Chapter Text
It’s when Ed is lying in the bathtub, a length of rather exquisite iridescent silk covering his lower half, the excess draped over the edge of the tub like a fishtail, that Stede realizes perhaps they’ve taken this a touch too far.
“How would we even manage anything if you were half-fish?” He’s frozen in place at the entryway, helplessly watching Ed model the two seashells placed over his bare chest. The left one doesn’t quite want to stay in place, and his nipple keeps peeking out.
“C’mon,” Ed says, leaning back so the shells slip off and clatter to the bottom of the empty tub, “everyone knows a mermaid’s naughty bits get revealed once they’re ready to claim their victims.”
“Hang on. In this scenario, you’d try to fuck me to death?”
Ed clicks his tongue and kicks his legs out as he shuffles to sit up more. “Fuck. Didn’t really think it would sound like that. You know, victim in the sexy way. Helpless against my animal attraction.”
“I think I’m rather exclusively into humans, it turns out,” Stede says, as he feels decidedly no inclination to rise to the occasion. Which is a rather dire situation considering Edward is half-naked and that is usually all it takes.
*
It may have gotten out of hand, but honestly, it’s not Stede’s fault.
*
There is supposedly a honeymoon phase to every relationship before it becomes ho-hum. It vexed Stede for a good handful of days, the fear that their passion might fade, but Edward had noticed the shift in Stede’s mood and bluntly told Stede that he held similar worries and he would damn well make sure that they wouldn’t be vexed by the anticipated waning of passionate affairs.
“Plus, we’re getting on in years. We can’t fuck every other day without severly fucking up our bodies.” Ed had paused and then grinned. “But I’m okay with needing some bed rest even if I’ll be cursing out your name if you want fuck me against the desk right now.”
Verdict: the desk is rather sturdy.
*
It’s not an invigoration of settled love. Or a punctuation to an erotic statement. There is simply so much fun to be had and Edward is a magnificent partner in crime. They’re both prone to dramatics, so why would they not continue such vigorous activities in the bedroom?
Perhaps they have gotten a bit overzealous in their vocal appreciation of the divine creativity of their sensual engagement.
Or, as some of their crew members mildly critique during a talk it through as a crew session, they’re being extremely loud about their carnal desires, in such a profane way that it’s actively detrimental to the crew morale.
“Honestly, a gag works wonders,” Lucius offers, as a solution.
“Please stop using all the cooking oil,” Roach says. “I can’t keep track of the stock if you keep stealing it.”
“Oh,” Fang says, raising a hand, even though Stede has explained several times that they don’t have to raise hands at this point in the discussion. “That was me. Sorry.”
“I needed to get a study of his body glistening during the golden hour,” Lucius explains, shrugging his shoulders as Roach glares at him. “Looks gorgeous, in case anyone’s wondering.”
Black Pete nods in approval, and Stede decides not to dwell on that any longer than necessary.
Unfortunately, his crew is rather an inquisitive lot. Frenchie immediately asks, “Is that why you got so excited about buying those special paints last time we went ashore?”
“Oh, it’s great stuff,” Black Pete says. “But you use those on your skin, and then Lucius licks–”
“Ah,” Stede says, hoping Edward would interject at some point, but instead he’s leaning back, smoking his long pipe, staring at the horizon as sunset bleeds into nightfall. “Perhaps we’ll do a bit of show and tell another time? Now, any other suggestions?”
“A sock on the door,” Jim says, tipping their hat up for a second before gently nudging Oluwande with their elbow.
“Fuck is that?” Ivan asks.
“It means room’s occupied.” Oluwande looks briefly at Lucius. “For no interruptions.”
“‘Kay,” Lucius says, rolling his eyes, “I got it the first time.”
“You really didn’t,” Jim says. They turn to Stede and enunciate slowly, like they’re not quite sure Stede was paying attention, “A sock. On the door.”
“Well, I mean, we’re captains. I expect if we need to be interrupted, it doesn’t matter what we’re—” Then, realizing, he coughs. “Oh, I see that’s—a warning system.”
“And now everyone knows what it means,” Jim says. Well, more growls out. “For anyone’s room. So we’re all clear, yeah?”
“Right. So that’s out of the way.” Stede claps his hands together. “Now! Onward to the performance segment of the evening. Who’s doing the death scene from Antony and Cleopatra tonight? I know several of you were vying for the role, but I did ask you to surprise me, so places, please!”
Perhaps few would think Wee John would make an exceptional Cleopatra, which is frankly insulting, for when the man is on, he’s on. Not a dry eye on deck once Wee John’s wrecked them with Cleopatra’s final dramatic moments.
*
“We should do that,'' Ed declares when they retire to their cabin, sharing a rather stunning bottle of port in newly pilfered crystal glasses. The craftsmanship that went into the glasswork demanded a pirate with a discerning eye to claim them for his own devices. There had been a bit of a rough spot where Stede had to make do with a mismatched set of drinking glasses; he is very glad they’re past such a time. “What do you say?”
“I’d rather not. Bit gloomy performing death scenes, isn’t it? Even when the Bard’s words are sheer perfection.”
“Naw, man. I mean we should act out stuff. Together.” Ed does a particularly vulgar twist with his hand. “In a fucking capacity.”
Stede blinks and tries to push away the brief thought that Ed would be divine at shadow puppetry. They must incorporate it into storytime with the crew one day. “Ah. A bit of sensual roleplay? Well. I can’t pretend I’m not intrigued.”
“Yeah, let’s fucking do it, mate.” Ed gets up to refill his drink and swallows half of it down as the liquid nearly overspills the rim of his glass. A few drops glisten along his bottom lip, and Stede is very tempted to taste it. Ed doesn’t move to sit back down. Instead, he stretches his arms wide, almost like he’s getting into a fighting stance. Stede is very sure Ed could do an awful lot of damage with that delicate crystal glass, but he isn’t keen to learn about it at this very moment. Fortunately, Ed sets it down and cracks his neck. “Let’s see you try to best me.”
“Best you?”
“At acting, of course. Though you can best me anytime,” Ed drawls, as he finally sinks down next to him. He slides a hand down Stede’s chest, resting his palm scandalously right above Stede’s groin.
“Perhaps we’ll do that another night. I must first endeavor to play my part,” Stede sighs theatrically. He takes a needlessly slow sip of port because he knows Edward is a second away from kissing him full out and he rather is enjoying the delay to the main event. One must be aware of the tension; a good pause can create in a proper performance. “Game on, then. We shall see who’s the better actor.”
“Oooh,” Ed laughs. “A fucking challenge then? Bring it on. Love a fucking challenge.”
“And what shall we do first?”
Ed pushes off the back of the settee, bare arm flexing distractingly. Damn him. Stede regrets confessing how he admires the way the serpent twists when Ed moves his arm about. Still, Stede can’t help confessing how appealing he finds Edward’s fine body when they’re tangled up together in the blissful moments before dozing off. It is a rather tricky thing to not gush over every little part of Ed he so deeply admires.
And Edward seems to enjoy a kind word issued on his behalf. It’s impossible not to give him that small gift of words when Stede knows Ed deserves the world.
“Got a couple of ideas,” Ed says. He gets comfortable kneeling in front of Stede and flashes a smart grin. Then the expression on his face shifts. The lines of his face smooth a bit, his eyes growing wide and wet. “Be gentle.” He quickly gets his jacket off, tucks his necklaces under his shirt. Loosens the knot at the back of his hair so it’s flowing freely and framing his face. He pets his hands down Stede’s thighs in a haphazard way Stede isn’t accustomed to, for Ed has masterfully mapped every part of his body by now. “It’s my first time.”
“Oh, I see,” Stede says, nearly spilling his drink on his chest in an attempt to widen his stance, and give Ed all the space he might need to explore his character’s motivation. Which is apparently learning how to perform fellatio. A skill Ed acquired long ago and now is going to act out as if it’s his first go around? Stede’s pulse is suddenly overcome with so much buzzing he’s half-worried he swallowed a bee.
“I know you’ve had better,” and there’s a very slight tremor to Ed’s voice as his fingers trip at the boundary between Stede’s shirt and trousers. He sneakily pulls the shirt loose while appearing as though he has not expertly undressed Stede many times over. “But I’d like to try.”
Damn. So now Stede, who has been confounded by the buzzing in his veins, the stupefying mush in his head and the rapid rise of his erection, must figure out a character in half the time that Ed somehow concocted this virginal creature kneeling before him, a complete artifice that Ed is somehow recreating perfectly. Fuck if he’s going to give up this easily.
First things first. Stede empties the last of his drink (liquid courage and all that), sets it somewhere hopefully solid and out of the way (though with what remains of his mind, he has no idea where it’s gone), and decides the best thing to do is to ground himself. By cheating. He’s a pirate. He can do that.
Leaning forward, he grasps Ed’s hair, one hand at the base of his skull. Ed sucks in a harsh breath; ah ha, yes, Stede thinks victoriously. Stede’s other hand moves to Ed’s right temple, brushing tangled tendrils back to look at the full picture of his lovely face.
“I have no doubt,” Stede says, trying out a steady, assured voice of a well-rounded man, one who has had many kneel before him in such a manner, “That you will do excellently. But you must be patient.” Then he adds, in a stroke of inspiration, mostly from the way Ed’s eyes are shining so bright, “And let me set the pace.”
All right, he’s probably completely cheating at this performance. It’s hardly acting to be highly interested in watching Ed’s shaking fingers as he pretends to fumble at getting Stede unclothed. Nor is it a huge moment of stagecraft to lean forward just a touch when Edward finally gets Stede’s dick out, to let it knock against Ed’s lips as he keeps Ed’s face daringly close for that very reason.
He is grateful that Ed slips a bit in his performance as the unskilled lover; he can’t help licking Stede from base to tip, suckling briefly at the tip. A bead of wet glistens on Ed’s bottom lip as he pulls back and licks his lips.
“Is that good?” He’s not really asking; he’s bragging in that low, confident voice of his, but Stede can’t help making a high-pitched whine in the back of his throat. Ed’s smiling because he damn well knows it’s fantastic. Truly, he’s gloating. Ed bends down and his lips close once more, gently pushing back foreskin, tongue dabbing briefly at the slit.
It damn near takes every ounce of Stede’s will not to shudder at that.
Fine. Point to Edward.
“How much do you think you’d be able to fit in one go,” Stede asks, half out of his mind because he knows the answer. But he wants to learn how Ed, playing out this character, intends to answer.
“Wouldn’t want to choke on it,” Ed says, gazing up almost dreamily. “Unless?”
“No, we wouldn’t want that,” Stede says, and with a bolt of inspiration. “I do wish to hear all the lovely noises you make in the attempt, however.”
Ed grunts in response. He nearly breaks character but manages to simply hiss a low fuck. “Use me as you like,” he says, pressing a kiss along the side of Stede’s cock. “I’ll keep an open mouth.”
Stede chokes on air and involuntarily thrusts forward, getting Ed to kiss along his scrotum, to nudge his nose against the thatch of pubic hair which Edward once delightfully commented on how nicely trimmed Stede kept it.
(Stede did not have the heart to tell Ed that it’s simply how it grew, out of consideration for the rather wild thatch that naturally overflowed like an unkempt garden between Ed’s legs. Once Ed had offered to shave it off—done it before, nice to feel my balls all smooth, but ingrown hairs hurt like fucking hell—but Stede definitely does not want any sharp implements that close to Ed’s dick. Plus, he’s rather enamored of the look on Ed.)
Ed is waiting for Stede to continue the game, but, frankly, all the blood in Stede’s body, as buzzy and muddled as it may be, is pushing forward in one direction. All he can do is guide Ed, using his grip on the back of his head.
What follows is possibly the sloppiest and messiest fellatio Ed ever performed. It’s wonderful. Unhinged and bless him, he really isn’t hiding his skill there at all, jaw open and taking everything Stede can give him.
He can feel drool sliding down his balls (and unfortunately into his trousers, as neither of them got fully undressed). He’s nudging his cock further into Ed’s mouth, dangerously near into his throat; he’s not sure a man’s first time doing this would ever entail deep-throating, but Ed seems to have decided against realism, and it’s not a note Stede would ever give him when it feels this damn good and he’s already so close to resolving his crisis.
“Let me see you touch yourself.” Stede says a little desperately. “You must be close. You’re doing so good.”
Ed makes a sloppy wet noise at that, nothing Stede can quite discern as a response since Ed’s tongue and lips are fully occupied. Ed hastily opens the front of his leathers, pumping fast, short strokes over his thickened erection.
There is no real performance at this point. Stede holds Ed’s head still when he’s beyond reason, seizing once, twice, but holding himself firm so his release floods Ed’s mouth, not down his throat. He gives a gentle tug to Ed’s hair and glances down to watch Ed come into his hand, the release slipping over and through his fingers, slicking down to the dark hair of his groin.
Even in dim candlelight, it’s a perfect picture.
He leans back and slowly slides out of Ed’s mouth, catching a glimpse of the pearlescence still resting on his tongue.
Ed spits on the ground. Actually, not the ground at all; he’s aimed for the glass that Stede had thoughtfully left there in his pre-blowjob hysteria. Stede grimaces a little—he ought to clean that out right away. Ed is often forgetful about washing dishes, and he’d rather like to keep the matching set of glasses again for proper drinks, not merely reduce their purpose as vessels for extraneous ejaculation.
Stede slumps awkwardly along the length of the couch, kicking a leg over the higher edge. He needs to get out of his damp clothes, but fuck if he’s moving right now. Perhaps a quick five minute nap will restore his energy before they get ready for bed. Ed has gathered several pillows and is laying on the ground beside him. He’s not bothered to tuck his dick away, and Stede does enjoy taking his shameless fill of Ed’s body in such a lovely repose. Even his sweat glimmers in candlelight. “That was something.”
“Fuck yeah. Robbed you blind.”
“What?”
“Yeah!” He sits up, pulling his necklaces from under his shirt. Dangling at the end of the chain are rather familiar rings.
Stede looks at his fingers and is stunned to find them all ringless, despite the fact that he was wearing several before they began. “How in the world?”
“Art of fucking distraction.”
“And why did you do that?” Stede can’t help pulling the necklace full of rings towards him to get a closer look, which means Ed has to lean in closer. Not that Ed seems to mind very much with the way his eyes go a little damp and soft at the gesture.
“Was my character, mate. A thief grabbing a pirate’s treasure and the pirate none the wiser.”
“Hmm, rather a so-so performance then.”
“No way,” Ed argues, grabbing a hold of Stede’s wrist, making the rings jangle in his clenched fingers.
“Alas, I was not a pirate,” Stede says. “I was playing—” he searches for something, anything to reclaim victory. “A counterfeiter! Alas, all you’ve robbed are pretty forgeries.”
Ed frowns. “You weren’t”
“Wasn’t I?”
Ed narrows his eyes. “You’re fucking with me.”
“Perhaps next time,” Stede says airly. He chuckles and kisses Ed’s cheek. The betrayed expression remains on Ed’s face. He kisses Ed slowly, savoring the changed taste of Ed’s mouth. He moves back. The frown is still there, but it’s fading.
“I thought I won,” Ed says, pouting. He unclasps the chain and hands the rings over to Stede.
“Hmm,” Stede says, grasping one of his favorite rings to examine it closely. It’s new to his collection, a silver pinky ring notched over in markings that remind him of the many tattoos worked over Ed’s skin. “Perhaps this one is actually worth a great deal. Perhaps you seduced me to reclaim what I stole, and this belongs to you.” He hands it over, a small offering between his thumb and forefinger.
Ed takes it and slides it back over Stede’s finger. “We share things equally,” Ed says. “I like seeing this on you.”
*
It’s just—want to do something weird is kind of their sex motto. If that’s a thing. Should be a thing.
*
“So what do you wanna do next?” Ed asks one morning after he’s tied Stede’s wrists with soft silks, arms pushed up over his head. Stede’s nightshirt is rucked up around his armpits, and he still has his eyemask on, effectively blindfolding him.
Stede longs to at least see Ed’s skin in the morning sunlight as he rides Stede, but Ed had off-handedly mentioned how there could be another purpose for the sleeping mask and gotten that glint in his eye, a promise that is now being decisively kept. It’s been a slow lovemaking session. The warmth of the sun on Stede’s face indicates the curtains must be open, but he cannot honestly tell what morning hour it is other than early. He’s pleaded several times over, but Ed won’t let him do a single thing except grant Ed the use of his cock to get off.
Stede thinks he must make a questioning noise at some point. It's a bit difficult to think when his cock is still inside Ed, who is twisting his hips in that particularly delicious way as he sinks down.
“Give it a think, then,” Ed says as though they’re having a casual conversation during breakfast and not while he’s still rocking up and down with the goal of trying to come on cock alone. “Any filthy little kink you got cooking up there. Give me a shout, and I’m sure I'll be—fucking hell—you’re close, right? Tell me you’re fucking almost there because shit, Stede!”
Later, Stede will be slightly put out to see the amount of semen smeared on his nightshirt. Right now, though, he helplessly pumps into Ed’s ass, nearly slipping out when Ed leans over to messily kiss him as Stede comes.
Ed is quick to untie him but doesn’t seem to have any urgency to remove his mask, preferring to slump next to him with a pleased groan. Pushing the mask off himself, Stede blinks a few times to adjust to the sunny light blazing into the windows, past curtains drawn haphazardly so that their bodies are awash in the morning rays. “I certainly…could whip up a few scenarios. If given the time.”
“Great,” Ed says, nudging Stede on the shoulder with the tip of his nose and giving him a quick love bite before snuggling closer. “We’ve got a few days before we need to make a supply run. Now where’s the jizz towel?”
“We really ought to have a better name for that,” Stede mutters, reaching over to the neat stack of clean towels kept beside the bed and handing over one to Ed.
Edward is not discreet as he wipes between his legs and ass. He notably does not seem inclined to wipe any mess off of Stede, instead dipping a few fingers down through the drying remnants, grown sticky in Stede’s chest hair.
“You like that, don’t you?”
“Yeah, love your hair, all of it,” Ed agrees.
“No. I, ah, meant, you like marking me. With your—” Christ, Edward uses filthy slang words all the time, and yet it feels unsuitable to say semen out loud as he basks in the afterglow. “With your release,” he says, rather lamely.
“Guess so.” Ed looks away, a slight frown on his face. “Does it bother you?”
“No! I rather like it, I think.”
Ed cradles Stede’s face in his hands. Stede has no idea what he finds so compelling but whatever it is, it’s hard not to want desperately to press Ed back into their bed and fumble once more even though they’re certainly not getting up to anything after that rather athletic effort. Stede kisses him, and Ed sighs into his mouth.
“Good.” Ed smacks the side of Stede’s thigh. “Now start plotting.”
*
Stede lays the scenario a week later. It’s not like he’s dragging it out or anything. It’s simply difficult to think of how to make this work, considering the lengths they’ll need to go to really sell the illusion.
“So this is some kind of posh school fantasy? Us wanking off in bunk beds?”
“Heavens no! I thought perhaps a tryst prior to becoming engaged. A relationship formed out of mutual attraction, naturally.”
“Naturally,” Ed echoes. “So our whole motivation is learning each other's bodies and fumbling around? Thought we did that pretty okay the first time.”
“No!” Stede says. “This time, it’ll be, what if we had met as young lads.”
Ed considers this. “Were you even blonder as a lad?”
Stede laughs. “I haven't really thought about that. Maybe? I was rather slight as a child and didn’t hit my growth spurt until I was already done with my studies.”
“Oh, I was always tall for my age. That would’ve been funny. Me towering over you.” He gives Stede a long look over, a pleased smile growing on his face. “We’re near a height now, especially when you’re wearing those fancy cheating heels.”
“They’re not cheating! It completes the look, having a bit of a heel.” He’s gotten accustomed to donning a hardier set of boots these days, but sometimes one must give into fashionable cravings. He is awfully fond of the nicer shoes he’s stolen and purchased via said ill-gotten gains after returning to co-captain the Revenge.
Ed makes a vague pffft noise, nearly sticking out his tongue. “Keep telling yourself that. So, your scenario is another form of seduction.”
“Mutual seduction, this time. What if we’re just two young blokes, terribly intrigued by the other. Perhaps you’d have to show me how to kiss.”
“Oh, so I’m the slutty virgin? Maybe I want to be the one saving myself for someone special.”
“For the one you love?”
“Or someone really, really hot. A blonde. Love a blonde. Your hair looks great, in case you were wondering. Got a really cool curl to it,” Ed leans back, all loose-limbed and cocky, and Stede faintly wonders if that was how Edward might have held himself when he was young. What kind of bright and foolhardy lad had he been, how full of bravado once he’d set sail and become a brilliant pirate?
Edward is far more than the legendary Blackbeard, but it is compelling to think of what he had been before being burdened by his own stellar career of piracy. It is rather impossible to think Stede would ever have a reaction to Ed besides definite interest. So. Therefore, the idea should be a fascinating one to act out. Even if he is winging it a bit.
“Well, I have changed up my haircare routine a bit, found this really interesting salve—hang on, how do you think we would meet, then?”
“Maybe we’re both running away.” Ed’s mouth twists a little, half a grimace that pulls into a weak smile. He seems a bit flustered before he rallies. “You see me from across a bar. Yeah. A bar. I’m smoking, so all in shadows–”
“A man shrouded in mystery,” Stede says approvingly, and walks to the door.
“What? You leaving?”
“Ah no, I was going to make a grand entrance.”
Edward snorts at that. “Play your cards right, and sure, you can have all the entrances.”
“Oh, that’s awful, Ed.”
“Thought you were making a grand entrance?”
“Right-o,” Stede says, striding out, “I’ll give you a taut ten to get ready.”
He breathes a relieved sigh that their crew aren’t actively listening and makes the fastest rounds possible to make sure there’s no calamity underway that could distract from whatever Edward is doing in their cabin.
Lucius quirks his head to the side while Stede is making sure the course ahead is not full of hidden sandbars or, god forbid, any naval ships itching for a fight. “Taking an afternoon nap, Captain?”
Stede’s never heard the word “nap” sound so filthy. He stammers an excuse about needing to rearrange some furniture in the cabin. “So don’t be shocked by any loud noises,” he adds, dashing off the main deck.
He can heard Lucius groan out, “I think it’s a little weirder when they do that quiet sex, honestly.”
“Ah, but it’s more tender, isn’t it?”
Stede is rather dismayed that he agrees with Wee John’s assessment, but it’s probably bad for team morale to get into it. Plus he’s not as good at counting down time internally, and he doesn’t want to keep Ed waiting.
Before he enters, he affixes a sock to the door knob, as promised. At least this time he had remembered to stuff a spare sock in his pocket earlier in the day. Since it’s a rather long stocking, he ties it off in a neat bow as a flourish. He takes a beat, steadying his mind to find his character, and enters, trying not to immediately locate Ed. There’s a bit of a tremor in his hand as he locks the door behind him. He holds his shoulders back when he turns, trying to look proud but rattled thoroughly with nervousness.
He’d have looked that way as a lad. Honestly, he has looked that way up until he met Ed.
The cabin lighting is now dim, curtains shut and half the candles blown out. A table’s been shoved against a wall with two chairs set in front of it. Ed’s sitting with his back to him. He’s got his pipe out, but it’s not yet lit. He’s tapping it on the table idly. A bit of an on with it motion, there.
“One ale please,” Stede says to the air, because right, this is a pub, he is supposed to be in a pub, judging by the random assortment of bottles set atop a sideboard next to the table. Stede notes that Edward has not bothered to use the mother of pearl inlay tray as set decoration. Going for a rougher atmosphere, then.
“Bartender’s been stabbed. No one else around to serve. Have to pour it yourself, mate.”
“Oh! Is this a pirate bar?” Stede says to Ed’s back since he’s decided to provide only scraps to work with here. “I can’t believe it—my first night out as a legal adult after completing my education, and I wind up in a true thieves’ den! What luck. I’ve always wanted to go somewhere a tad risqué.”
Edward snorts under his breath, but Stede needs to establish he’s a consenting adult. While it does feel daringly thrilling to roll with this pretense of engaging in debauchery when he was still in the bloom of youth, as it were, he doesn’t find it terribly erotic to pretend he was a schoolboy.
He has no golden memory of youth.
He’d had a terrible bout of spots across his face for a good three years, starting when he was around thirteen years of age. When he finally hit his growth spurt, it felt like his bones were sore with the effort. He’d tried growing a bit of facial hair, and other than his sideburns, he wasn’t exactly attractive with pale whiskers on his face.
Even then, he could hardly take himself in hand, and that was when a firm breeze could leave him stiffer than a well-starched collar.
Nothing quite as mortifying as vanity being completely crushed by the awkwardness of growing into one’s body. Still, he’d embraced being a gentleman in all the ways he thought possible. Now it’s like he must reclaim aspects of that lost boy who desired so many things that he only found after years of toiling in dissatisfaction.
“Well then. A fancy lad coming here for his first sip of the devil’s brew? Or are you here for another activity under the devil’s flag?” Ed turns as he asks the question, setting his pipe aside. There’s an empty cup on the table before him. “Come sit by me, stranger. Tell me your story.”
“Ah,” Stede says, after half-stumbling to the sideboard to pour himself a sloppy glass of brandy and refill Ed’s glass with a slightly steadier hand. “It’s not much of a story.” He sits down next to Ed, trying not to turn his body too closely or lean into Ed’s personal space. They’re supposed to be strangers. Odd that he has to keep reminding himself of that. He should have this character down. “I’m told I must learn to be a man, get ready to be a husband, but I don’t even know where to start.”
Ed grunts under his breath the fuck you don’t but then he says in a louder voice. “Huh. Sorta in the same sitch. Loads of experiences I ought’ve had but I don’t. Not yet at least.”
“Well, perhaps we can help each other then! Cheers,” Stede says, clinking glasses and yes, spilling some brandy over Ed’s hand, which is bare. Perhaps Edward took to wearing his fingerless gloves at a later point in life.
In fact, Ed is wearing a breezy bleached linen shirt that laces in the front, his leather pants, but no weapon belt. The loose sleeves cover his arms down to his wrists, and Stede very badly wants to yank the fabric up. Even though he can glimpse the tattoos on his hands and the bird that rests atop his chest, Ed feels oddly less Ed without his lovely tattoos on display.
Ed is staring at him. Neither have said anything for several long beats.
Finally, he says, “Is that all it takes?”
Stede, rather thrown, responds, “What do you mean?”
“You sidle up to a stranger and say ‘how about giving a bit of the rub and tug,’ and then it’s on? Where’s the plotting, the seduction?”
“Ed,” Stede says, perhaps a touch louder than he ought to, “if I went about it the way I would have as a young lad, it would have taken me, oh twenty or so years, and a failed marriage to even get to a damn kiss!”
“This is supposed to be a game of pretend.” Ed knocks his bootheel against Stede’s foot. “Your beloved theater.”
“Well, perhaps the muse has abandoned me.” Stede pouts while Ed finishes his drink, waiting. “That shirt looks lovely on you, by the way.”
“Yeah, I know, that’s why I’m wearing it,” Ed says with breezy confidence.
“It would look better on the floor.”
Ed does that fun giggle-snort, his eyes lighting up. “Now that’s more like it.” He flips his hair off his shoulders and leans against the table. His not-so-well laced shirt opens up as he stretches back. “Bet your shirt would also look fucking great on the floor.”
“Can I kiss you?” He doesn’t really mean to blurt it out. But really, a Stede stumbling into a bar for the first time, encountering Ed, an Ed of any season, would want at least some moment, however fleeting, some touch by which to remember such a man. And really, what can compare to the vision in front of him, battle-hardened and the years kindly streaking his long locks into glorious grey? Yes, even a kiss would be enough. He can feel his cock swelling as he leans forward, recklessly invading Ed’s space, cautiously touching the top of Ed’s left hand, “Say yes or no, but I simply would be honored to kiss you.”
“Look at you. Come to a pirate bar. Won’t even take without wanting permission first. That’s fucking hot,” Ed groans, his lips preciously close to Stede’s. “I’d be mighty disappointed if you stopped. And I don’t have any honor to give. So yeah. Kiss me.”
This kiss is slow and tentative. More a shared breath than a joining of the mouths, really. He barely glances against Edward’s lips in the initial touch. Ed is slow to respond, acting as though they have all the time in the world. Like young people like to believe. The pressure is gentle. Edward hadn’t shaved for this. Would he have had much of a beard when he was, what, eighteen? Hard to even consider such a silly notion. The pleasant scratch of his regrown whiskers is a true caress.
Their first kiss had been barefaced, Ed freshly shaven, but all Stede can remember is the haze of breathless relief: I make him happy. This kiss is supposed to be a pretense, but they’ve gone too far. Know each other too well.
They wind their bodies together at some point, Ed’s left hand gently resting at the back of Stede’s neck and his right hand hovering at his waist, like the start of a seated dance. Stede slides his hand along Ed’s sleeve, tugging it to expose his forearm. HIs other hand loosely grasps at Ed’s jaw. There’s a bit of tension under Ed’s skin that Stede longs to smooth away. He’s holding back, Stede realizes.
“You didn’t say where I could kiss you,” Stede murmurs against Ed’s mouth. There’s a faint shudder, and Stede throws any pretense to the wind. Even if they sail directly into a maelstrom and come to ruin, he’s not going to stop. He gently bites at Ed’s bottom lip, giving it a very delicate tug. Ed grumbles deep in the back of his throat. “How about here?”
He punctuates his question by dipping his mouth to the corner of Ed’s exposed throat and jaw, where he’s trimmed off excessive beard growth. Ed gives him no satisfaction with a clever answer, so Stede presses on. He savors both of Ed’s cheekbones, smooth and warm to the touch, the side of his nose, his temple. He’s not yet willing to fully cheat by laying waste to the rest of Ed’s sensitive throat, so instead he bites down on Ed’s earlobe, right where he sometimes wears an earring—but not often, as he complains it gets tangled in his hair on windy days.
“Any-bloody-where you want,” Ed finally says when Stede pauses his assault.
His chest then. It’s not the first time he’s pressed a kiss to the bird tattoo, but he treats it with the utmost reverence, lips tracing each inked feather. Then the slender bones of his wrists.
“Such a gentleman,” Ed says. If he means it as a jab, there’s far too much tenderness in his tone.
Stede gently scrapes his teeth against Ed’s mount of Venus, delighting in the taut muscle of his hand. “I think I would like to be less of one.”
Ed draws in a sharp breath. “I like that you’re gentle, mate. It’s—interesting.”
“And you appreciate interesting things?”
“I don’t like boring,” Ed says, and he briefly puffs up his chest, like he’s trying desperately to return to their charade. But by that look on Ed’s face, it’s clear he’s losing.
Stede presses on with decisive advantage. “I don’t even know your name. How thrilling.”
“Fuck. And what if I do know you. All about you.”
Stede has of course heard those words before. Still, the way Ed says them sends that same thrill of excitement spiking up his spine. “And you waited for me in a bar.”
“Maybe I was following you. Was wondering what you were like.”
“Why?”
“Not every day a bloke gets sold off to get hitched.”
Stede slightly regrets completely divulging how his marriage to Mary began; still, it’s an interesting twist. So he rolls with it. “Are you my Edward?”
And yes, excellent, another point to him. Ed almost shudders at my Edward.
“Stede,” is all he says before crushing Stede’s mouth back to his. He yanks Stede forward, like he’s trying to get him to sit atop him, but Stede can only manage half stooping over him, tangling his fingers in Ed’s hair.
“Tell me there’s a room, somewhere in this bar,” Stede gasps, and see, he’s getting much better. He’s completely selling the vision. They’re at a bar, and they must now make their very smooth exit to a flat surface where he and Ed can ravish each other. Because they are secretly betrothed and defying everyone’s expectations and he really cannot wait to stick his hands under Ed’s trousers. He grasps Ed’s leather encased thigh for emphasis.
“Yeah this is a bar where if you turn around there’s a bed located right by the windows overlooking the sea,” Ed says, panting in Stede’s mouth, tugging at his bottom lip for emphasis. Stede ignores the poor scenery change and instead yanks Ed up and they jerkily make their way to the bed.
“Your boundaries are anywhere I want, Edward?”
Ed kicks off his boots, nearly stumbling over them as he gets closer, saving it as he wriggles his pelvis at Stede. “Yeah, so long as I get to kiss you in turn.”
“I think that’s fair.” More than fair, as Ed takes a hold of Stede’s jacket and pushes it off of him. He is much more ruthless, going after the sensitive bits of Stede’s exposed skin.
Stede is sure he ought to say something more. Tremulous little questions of is this all right? or do you like this? But the game doesn’t seem as interesting once Ed has lined up his groin so there’s that familiar pressure against his clothed dick. Hard to say much of anything when Ed’s tongue is supplying that familiar pressure as they kiss deeply. Stede digs his fingers into Ed’s bottom and breaks away just to gasp, “Let me touch you?”
“You are.” Ed’s already got half of Stede’s trousers open but he stops to trail his fingers up Stede’s chest. Taps his index finger on Stede’s chin. “Just like I’m touching you.”
“Kind touches. Good touches. But I’d like to. Touch each other.”
Ed smiles. A sharp one. He shrugs. “Aren’t we?”
Fuck him. “Let me jerk you off.” He puts his hands on his hips to show that he’s not joking around and well, his breeches shift open further, there’s his cock full out, so he shoves them off.
“Yeah.” Ed shifts back to open his own trousers as Stede settles onto the bed. Once Ed’s got his kit off, he joins Stede. “We’re meant to be pulling each other off. Hand stuff. You’ve got nice hands.”
“You’ve got even better hands,” Stede declares. He doesn’t look down when he grasps Ed’s cock. He’s slick and hot in hand and Stede chooses a long, slow pull to start. He doesn’t pump in earnest until Ed’s got his fingers wrapped around him.
“Oh,” Ed says with a pleased noise. “Yeah, that’s good.”
“Well,” Stede laughs, “Shove me away if it’s not good.”
“Nah. I know it’s gonna be good. You know why?” Stede shakes his head. He has no bloody clue. All he wants to do is keep his hand jammed at an awkward angle just so he can gaze into Ed’s eyes as he works him over.
Ed is going to wait for an answer for a long time. They pant into each others’ mouths the closer they get–they aren’t even undressed–Ed’s bare feet knocking against Stede’s stockinged ones. That noise, hands pumping on slick cocks, once such a shameful thing, to pull at one’s prick simply to seek a selfish release, it’s so different with someone he loves. With Ed.
Stede goes a little cross-eyed when he comes.
Ed finishes by wrapping his hand over Stede’s to roughly yank out several short, jerky pulls before he’s spurting between their fingers.
“Great stuff.” Ed pats Stede’s belly affectionately.
“Think we rather lost the plot along the way.”
“Eh, still would leave a good review.”
“Where exactly would these reviews be left?”
“Dunno. Should we keep some kinda scorecard? I think I’m in the lead. Hope you’re not a sore loser.”
“Well. It’s your turn next, I suppose. The great Captain Blackbeard has to be plotting something rather wicked, isn’t he?”
Ed grins. “Yeah I got a couple of cool ideas.”