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At the combined requests of both Captains Blackbeard and Bonnet, Pete, Lucius, and Izzy (with reluctance on his part, but at least he’d be there with people he liked) were on another ship with another hoity-toity folks’ party, scoping out and gathering intel for possible future raids, both for this ship and others that might be on their way from any direction. The three of the Revenge crew were currently dancing as part of a quadrille, which drew them together two at a time.
Izzy gasped sharply but quietly — decades of being a sailor ground that silence into him — and looked at various people dancing in their square for the clumsy ass who stepped on his foot. Luckily for them it was his uninjured foot, or he’d be spilling blood tonight.
As soon as that thought passed, someone stepped on his injured foot. It was up close to his ankle on the side opposite the wooden toe that Pete had whittled for him, masterfully and with great care. Now was it Izzy being lucky, or was it someone who knew exactly where that injury had been. He did his best to concentrate on the dance — he’d never had much of a chance or inclination to practice any dancing — but he was able to get a sidelong glance at Lucius… who was wearing that intentionally innocent look Izzy knew all too well by now.
The next time the dance brought Izzy opposite Pete, Izzy tried to give him his death glare, but Pete had gotten used to it, especially with some coaching from Lucius, and he gave Izzy Lucius’s innocent look. Maybe this was part of the price Izzy paid for really good sex on the regular. He sighed. And he had to admit (but only to himself) that dancing was somewhat interesting. Not “fun,” but it was interesting, a different way to use his body and bodies of others.
Then he was opposite Lucius again. Izzy belated realized that Lucius was wearing those fucking red boots. His heart sped up and he got those damn butterflies in his gut again. When he caught Lucius’s gaze, he got that shark grin, telling him there would be a party of two — or three — tonight after they got back home. And dammit if his cock didn’t start waking up — in these fucking thin linen breeches they made him wear. “Fuck off,” he breathed. Lucius pursed his lips and blew a kiss into the space between them.