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“Yours,” Stede echoes, grinning against Edward’s mouth.
“Mine,” Ed agrees, sighing.
The dreaded Captain Blackbeard, Stede considers, cleaving not my innards, yet here I am, torn asunder by adoration instead.
Edward tugs at his bottom lip greedily and Stede obliges, welcoming his tongue into his mouth. He moves eagerly against the other man, imitating his actions, falling into step as if led in dance.
He’s never kissed like this before, open-mouthed, a tongue massaging his own. If this is love; let it engulf me, let me drown…
Stede feels a hunger rise within himself, a wanting so divine, so delightful that it couldn’t possibly be wrong. He feels an utter fool to have waited, to have almost lost this moment. Edward’s mouth on his, the heat of his body; his taste, his beauty, his scent, his hand on my-
“Oh, shit!”
Ed chuckles against his mouth, stroking him again, moving slowly against the fabric of his breeches.
“Is it?” he teases, “Huh. I thought you’d probably like it.” Edward rubs again, firmer this time. “I can stop if you’d prefer?”
“Ah, no, that’s absolutely… unnecessary…” Stede sighs, arching against his palm. He almost laughs at the sheer improbability of their reunion, their juncture so utterly incredulous. Edward growls into their kiss; a tamed beast now, no longer the brute Blackbeard.
Stede drops his hands from Ed’s face, resting them first upon his shoulders. The mismatched sleeves are butter soft; he slides his hands downwards, as if investigating the material. It’s well-worn but certainly worn well, the leather ensemble creating such an exquisite homage to Edward’s frame. Stede traces the opening to the jacket; releases the topmost toggle, then the next. All the while Ed moves against him, perhaps impatient, but Stede hopes it’s just that he’s more confident in such… endeavours.
Upon defeating the last of his obstacles, Stede pulls Ed’s jacket open; pressing his hands against his chest, feeling the heat rise from him through his thin cotton shirt. He thinks of Edward’s earlier claim; the theft he suffered. Stede rests his hand against that place. The pounding of war drums ceased, now an erratic beat, fluttering, coupled with those sharp rises and falls in breath. He’s giddy at the thought, the very notion that he could affect Edward in such a way.
His palm glides across something hardened, though much too hard for just a nipple. He feels Ed grinning against his mouth. Stede traces the object with his index finger, deducing the shape of a ring.
“Hm,” he wonders aloud, fingertips skimming across Edward’s chest to compare textures.
“Hm?” Ed queries, teeth nipping into the kiss as if unable to suppress his amusement.
Stede locates a second nipple ring.
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
Stede follows the outline, round and round, his curiosity burning. He notes with delight Ed’s sharp intake of breath.
“Do these rings serve a purpose, or are they simply… decorative?”
Edward pulls back to look at him, his face lit up in a way Stede has never seen before.
“Yeah. If you pull ‘em, I’ll come in my fucking pants.”
“Well, then,” Stede feels his face flushing and prays Ed won’t notice in the dull light. “Well, actually, I think that would be a little wasteful, so I’ll leave that for now, thank you.” He pats Ed’s chest politely and lifts his hand away.
Edward gives him a small shake of his head and clucks his tongue, feigning disappointment.
“You like to make a man wait, don’t you, Stede Bonnet?” Edward’s hand is moving for his hip, tugging at the buttons on his waist. Stede feels guilt rising from the pit of his stomach, but when he meets Ed’s gaze, there’s no malice there. A crooked smile, pulling at the corners of his eyes; despite the patches of charcoal, his face is bright with adoration.
“What’s a moment more, my captain? After so many months?” Stede presses his lips to Ed’s, “So many years,” another kiss, his fingertips meet the space between Ed’s shirt and trousers, “…a lifetime…”
“Jesus…” Edward hisses, perhaps at the resistance of his buttons, or maybe the graze against his belly. Inquisitive, Stede repeats the movement, skimming his knuckles along the soft skin. A gasp. Edward’s gaze shifts downwards.
“Is this… okay?” Stede asks, his fingertips brushing lightly against raised scars; the thought of causing Ed pain or unease horrifies him.
Edward nods, offering him that sweet, sentimental smile again. Stede considers that Ed, like himself, may not be versed in the arts of romantic touch. That it’s been about getting the job done and not at all about enjoying the experience, or perhaps simply a practice for release. While he’s read about love affairs, has tomes of classic etchings - those certain arts of ancient Greece and Rome - no literature has described in detail the concupiscence involved. Furthermore, there had been no such manual describing the finesse to elegantly unclothe one’s partner… Stede notes Ed’s slow progress at his waist and considers the row of buttons awaiting him, the belt and brace also. He has the vague thought of a splendidly wrapped gift, though with buckles now, not bows. He presses his palm to Edward’s belly, sweeping his fingertips quickly beneath the leather’s edge, before tracing the path back to the top button.
A groan against his mouth. Ed swiftly lifts his hands from their busywork, raising them up and overhead. Stede arches against him and Edward presses back. He feels the other man’s hardness against his hip and thinks he may die on this very spot. His heart is pounding in his ears and his breath is caught and yet Edward rises against him again. His head spins and his chest is tighter still – Ed presses in again, and his mouth is on Stede’s cheek, his jaw, his ear – a tongue now- lips at his lobe, teeth on his neck – a prayer to God, a prayer to Eros – that I may die right now-
“Breathe,” Edward whispers into his nape and Stede obliges, gasping roughly. Ed laughs through his nose, the puff of air sweet against his neck.
“Ed?” Stede wonders if he would sink to the floor were Edward not pressed so exquisitely against him.
“Mmm?” His tongue is tracing a path up his neck and jaw and Stede thinks he understands now why the heroines of romance novels are so accustomed to swooning and fainting.
“I think, perhaps,” there’s teeth at his earlobe again, “maybe,” the tongue encircling the edge of his ear – Lord above, my ear, how is it that an ear has sensual properties –
“Mmm?” That smile in Ed’s voice and his cock against me again – good God –
Stede grabs Edward’s wrists and pushes them both off the wall.
“Bed,” Stede mutters, flustered and bewildered and bursting with anticipation.
Ed lingers before him, moving backward across the room.
“Nah, man, aren’t we waiting?” He’s grinning though the hair hanging over his face, one hand twists the buttons of his leather trousers, the other lingering on Stede’s wrist.
“No, I’ve had enough fucking waiting.”
Stede notes how Edward’s smile broadens when he curses. Ed dawdles ahead of him, both hands on his belt now, tugging suggestively at the leather strap. As Stede works to release the closure on his breeches, Ed sits heavily on the bed, yanking at the buckles of his brace before tossing it aside.
The stray thought crosses Stede’s mind that this man has been sleeping in his bed and he pulses with excitement. And now the very concept of sharing said bed with said man; such is the pounding in his heart and head and breeches. Ed kicks off a boot and pauses to look at him.
“Huh, I always imagined you’d be wearing silk,” Edward murmurs.
“You always imagined?” Stede queries, hands frozen at his waist; an eyebrow raised.
Ed grins, raising his own eyebrows in response. Stede sags onto the bed beside him, quite certain he will implode if this goes on one moment longer.
“Since I first saw you, bleedin’ out on the deck, if I’m honest,” Edward admits, ditching his other boot.
Stede blinks at him in disbelief. There’s not a hint of mockery in his voice; Edward’s honesty touches him deeply. They’re silent a moment before Ed stands again, he turns away from Stede and shakes his trousers off. Stede gawks at the presentation, understanding suddenly why sculptors honour the human form in wood and marble and bronze.
He slides his hand carefully up his forearm and pinches himself.
“Would’ve been a pretty crap shag if you’d carked it though,” Ed adds, deflecting the emotional vulnerability expertly. He pulls his shirt over his head and flings it over his shoulder; it successfully slides over Stede’ face and flops onto his lap. Stede bundles it, squeezing gently, before recalling the urgent task at hand.
Edward scoops a red silk robe from the floor and wanders back over, the draped fabric rudely obstructing the view. Stede pushes his boots off and undoes the last of his buttons.
“It may still be a pretty crap shag, silk or no,” Stede ventures, peeling his breeches off. He’s nervous and excited in equal parts.
“Hey, what are you saying? That I’m flat on my back like some kind of damp dishrag in the sack?” Ed grins, smoothing the silk robe over the bedding and falling back upon it.
“No,” Stede says, but is slow to comprehend his meaning. “Are you saying I’m to be doing, uh, the…”
“…Shagging?” Edward offers, beaming up at him.
“Shagging,” Stede echoes, as if repeating a word in a foreign language to confirm the correct pronunciation.
“Oh, yes please,” Ed quips, “thanks for offering.” He swings his arms behind his head, looking thoroughly amused, utterly ravishing in naught but a black silk cravat. It’s an image so pleasant Stede has half a mind to call for Lucius and his sketch book.
“Well?” Edward blinks up at him, grinning adorably.
The reality of the situation dawns on Stede.
“Yep,” Stede nods, “Right. Yes. Okay.” Oh my God, oh my God, oh – Edward rises from his recumbence, moving toward him on all fours – Christ, shit, fuck –
“Here,” Ed nudges him to standing, “You get those off, okay?”
“Yep,” Stede says with a quick nod. He shuffles out of his breeches and prays to all the saints.
“Then you can grab us the oil from that little drawer under there-”
“Yep,” Stede starts toward the storage at the head of the bed. He prays to Aphrodite and Venus and-
“-Then you can come back here so I can suck you off,”
“Yep,” Stede pauses, bent at the edge of the bed, hand against the mechanism that springs the hidden drawer open.
“…How did you-”
“Well, I kicked it, didn’t I? I kicked… a lot of things. Sorry ‘bout that.” Edward grins up at him and gestures for him to hurry. “C’mon, the oil, love.”
“Yep.” Stede retrieves the amber bottle, noting the volume.
“I might have borrowed some,” Ed says gleefully.
“Yep.”
“For wanking.”
“Ye-” Stede blinks. “I’m sorry, what did you say you were going to-”
“Suck you off.” Edward pats the bed beside him, tips his head and raises his eyebrows.
“Oh.”
“Yep,” Ed chuckles, but not at him, instead as if he’s charmed.
Stede eases himself onto the bed, meaning to remove his tattered shirt but realising with mortification he’s still wearing his stockings.
But Ed is upon him, easing the glass bottle from his fist, his mouth hot and hungry against Stede’s lips. And I’m somehow back on my ship, in my own bed, with Edward Teach, en deshabille – I’m dreaming, or I’ve died – what joy, either way…
Stede sinks back against the pillows as Edward moves across him; fingers in his hair, a hand against his hip, his hair trailing and tickling as he moves across the his torso. Stede feels himself floating, or melting, or evaporating…
“Hm, this is a bit of a mess,” Ed grabs at the scraps of Stede’s shirt.
“Oh, well, someone did try to stab me, sort of.”
“Right. Well, they did a pretty shit job of it.”
“And for that I am grateful.”
A tight grin from Edward, a snort of amusement. Ed peels back Stede’s shirt, pausing to release the few remaining buttons. The gentleness of the gesture delights Stede, though he really wouldn’t mind if Edward just ripped open the damned thing. Ed places a hand on his chest, walking his fingers across the glowing bruises and scrapes. Edward’s face folds slightly, a shadow forming as he traces a contusion against Stede’s side. Stede does his best not to wriggle against the ticklish touch.
Those earlier words drift into Stede’s mind, as the hands skate over his torso. That surely he is a swine, in heart and mind and body. That perhaps Edward will see him now also and realise why he couldn’t stay; why he wasn’t worthy of the adoration Ed offered.
“I meant what I said, Edward, I will atone for my inadvertence.”
Fingers against his chest, sweeping his collarbone, shoulder, neck, jaw; tracking the blemishes.
“I am at your mercy.” Stede searches Edward’s face, watching the darkness lift, as if it were only clouds passing overhead.
“Uhuh,” Ed agrees. His mouth against Stede’s chest, kissing a trail down his sternum.
“At your whim, my captain,”
Edward sucks air through his teeth.
“Jesus, man, you’re gonna kill me talking like that.”
Another lightning bolt of delight ripples through Stede, still astounded that he can affect the other man.
“By your grace,”
Edward looks up at him, his mouth wide, tip of his tongue against Stede’s nipple.
“-I may take reprieve,”
He holds Stede’s gaze a moment, eyes bright and burning. Then a grin, tongue and teeth against the standing nub.
“Oh!” Stede understands the piercings now. Is it that every inch of one’s body can be made to feel like embers, like sparks to gunpowder?
All too soon Edward’s mouth is moved, light pinches between thumb and forefinger, then hands skating downwards, lips and tongue against Stede’s belly. Long tendrils of hair follow, raising goosebumps in their wake. For a moment Stede thinks that he is indeed the kraken, those dark locks and glowing eyes and hands and lips seemingly everywhere at once. Then Edward’s mouth is upon his manhood and Stede knows he’s numinous of nature - truly belua ponti - because no mere man could make him feel this way.
“You’re very quiet,” Ed finally says, pulling back to stroke him, his fist spit slicked and quick.
Stede blinks his eyes open, not able to recall closing them. He nods lightly.
“Am I not doing it right?”
This creature, deorum occursacula, whose unearthly touch has sapped my very being, my essence, questions his technique as I lay bound and enraptured…
“…Stede?”
The Gentleman Pirate nods.
“I’ve always wanted to do this touchy-feely stuff.” Ed grins shyly.
“I’ll be a glad recipient,” Stede manages, swallowing hard. His mind spins at the thought of Edward’s first gentle intimacy being with himself.
“You’ll have to do more than that,” Ed teases, slowing his hand movements.
“Anything you desire,” Stede replies, knowing this will always be true.
Edward presses his lips together, resting his hand on Stede’s hip.
“Stede,” his voice taking that hushed tone, “Um, I want you to touch me, all nice and softly, like you did before.”
Stede could swear he sees heat creep across Ed’s cheeks.
“It would be my uttermost honour,” Stede pushes up from the pillows as if possessed; imbrued with the ardent force of his passions. He rises as Edward falls, the silk beneath them shifting like tides, like the gossamer wings carrying him.
“My captain,” Stede murmurs, and Ed whimpers into his mouth. Stede moans in response, titillated by how he tastes himself on Edward’s lips. As they kiss, Stede slides his fingers down the other man’s arms, shifting then, his hands at his hips, skimming back up his sides. He repeats this, sweeping the reach of his arms, the swell of muscle, the paths of veins. He breaks away from Edward’s mouth, planting soft kisses across his cheek; Ed tilts his head to the side, guiding him down to his jaw. Stede emulates Edward’s earlier actions to the best of his ability, lapping and sucking lightly as he moves down his neck and across his shoulder. Edward offers him gasps and groans of encouragement; one hand sinking into his hair, the other caressing his arm.
Stede traces a path to Ed’s fingertips, exploring each inked design; the scattered stars and swirling scales, a skull, a ship, a swallow – there’s scars too, too many to count, so he simply kisses each one. Stede sighs gratefully, knowing he has forever to study the minutiae of this man, mapping each of the fascinating details he discovers.
He moves across Edward’s chest now, giving one nipple ring a gentle tug as he passes. Ed moans, his fingers tightening against Stede, winding around locks of his hair. Stede inches down Edward’s belly, decorating the soft swell with butterfly kisses as his hands sink to the tops of his thighs.
“Stede?”
The Gentleman Pirate raises his gaze.
“You don’t have to, you know, if you don’t want to.”
“Oh? Suck you off?” Stede borrows Ed’s earlier turn of phrase, enjoying the roguish way it sounds.
Ed chuckles at this, stroking his fingers lightly against Stede’s temple.
“I mean, I’d quite like to try,” Stede offers, raking his fingers though the salt and pepper curls leading from Ed’s bellybutton. “If you’ll forgive any amateur missteps.”
Ed laughs though his nose, shaking his head lightly. He slips his hand to the side of Stede’s face.
“God, you’re so fucking… lovely.”
He smiles coyly, eyes shining with warmth.
“Well, I think you’re very sweet too-”
At this Ed raises an eyebrow.
“-Among a very great deal more amiable, and, frankly, alluring traits. But I can either list all your outstanding attributes or, ah, suck you off, and I’d quite like to try the later.”
“Jesus Christ, man,” Edward glances to the ceiling as if offering a prayer.
Stede turns to place a kiss in Edward’s palm, then shifts himself backwards and over Ed’s thighs, placing himself before the divine centrepiece. He takes Edward’s cock in his hand, this motion not so unfamiliar. He works his shaft firmly, watching how Ed’s body shudders in reaction, chest rising shakily. Pearls of pre-cum bead at the head of his dick; Stede leans forward, pressing his tongue flat to the slit.
He tastes of the sea. Of course he does.
Ed’s fingers tangle themselves in his hair, as if he’s steadying himself. Stede wraps his mouth around the head of his member, his fist still stroking. He sucks, sliding slowly downwards – up - down again.
Edward writhes beneath him like a cut snake, bucking and whimpering.
“Is that okay, Ed?” Stede pauses as Edward twists against the silken bedding.
“Jesus-fucking-Christ,” Ed hisses, “Stede, please-”
Stede smirks, outrageously satisfied with his handiwork. He presses the tip of his tongue to Ed’s length and drags slowly, then returns to sucking. Ed groans. He arches against the bed, the inked hawk on his chest appearing in flight as he gasps shakily.
“Stede…”
The Gentleman Pirate continues his work; his free hand brushes against Edward’s thigh, trailing over his hip and circling round to grasp his behind. Ed whimpers and wriggles.
The hand against Stede’s hair tugs urgently, distracting him from his epicurean pursuit.
“Stede-fucking-Bonnet, will you fucking fuck me,” he pauses to draw breath, “…please.”
Stede grins around Ed’s cock.
“As you command.” Stede feels flush; drunk with ardour and aphrodisia.
As he rises to his knees, Ed stretches across the bed, clawing and batting the silk spread until he clasps the little amber bottle. He passes it to Stede before rolling roughly onto his front.
“Oh.” Stede skims his palm up Ed’s thigh, acquainting himself with this new view of his lover. He notes the serpentine ink creeping across his shoulders, the thick scars like brushstrokes, etched over the length of his back; too numerous to count.
“Oh, Ed.”
He senses Edward stiffen beneath him.
“Sweetheart,” Stede murmurs, stroking his hands up and over Ed’s buttocks, skimming his palms gently over the lacerations. He dips his head to meet the small of Edward’s back.
“Darling,” he pecks a trail up Ed’s spine, moving carefully in case of his discomfort. He feels Edward’s shallow breaths begin to deepen.
“Dearest.” More butterfly kisses, gentle sweeps of his fingertips.
“My love,” he offers, anguished at the thought of Ed’s torment. Knowing it was too simple to ascribe such sorrow, such suffering to the kraken, to the supernatural; that of course it is mere mortals, the true monsters, that cause such agony.
He glides his hands over the scores, up to his shoulders and strokes Edward’s hair. A soft whimper. Stede’s wary of the vulnerability he’s been shown, keenly aware of how Ed may anticipate rejection. He shifts back on his heels, nestling his hand against Edward’s cheek.
“Would you mind, my love, turning back to face me?”
Edward rolls to his side, turning hesitantly.
His expression has dimmed; shadowed with self-doubt, suspicion.
Stede reaches forward, holding his hands to his face. He presses his lips to Edward’s forehead. He knows there’s no point in regretting, that he must only now work to restore Ed’s faith in him.
He cups the side of Ed’s face, brushing cinders with his thumb.
“We don’t have to do, this, now, Edward.”
The corner of Edward’s mouth curls, the umbrage lifting.
“Always, Stede Bonnet, must you always make me fucking wait?” Ed throws his head back and huffs, grinning through his theatrics.
Stede smiles, relieved and delighted and grateful all at once.
“Well then, I’ll need you facing me, for one thing.” He brushes back a strand of Edward’s hair, searching for those warm eyes.
Ed lifts his eyebrows, perhaps playing off his apprehension as folly.
“If you want…” he mumbles, shifting gingerly onto his back.
“I want,” Stede growls against his lips, interspersing his intonations with fevered kisses, “I want, so, so badly Edward, I want, I want, I want…”
And he does, he wants to make Edward feel exquisite; feel loved, feel known, feel seen. He wants to prove what’s in his heart and his soul; he wants Ed to feel whole, cherished, accepted. And he simply wants; wants release, wants pleasure, wants to know how Edward feels, how he looks when enraptured, how he sounds…
“Will you guide me, please, Ed?” Stede pulls back to study the other man’s face.
“You bloody well seem to know what you’re doing,” Edward tells him, his eyes sparking and expression earnest.
“Hm, yet you have witnessed an earlier attempt of mine at palpitation.”
Stede grins, shifting backwards to reposition himself between Edward’s thighs. Ed snorts with amusement.
“Right, well, giddy up,” Edward swings forward, snatching the amber bottle from Stede. He clamps the cork between his teeth, twists, dislodges, then blows it over Stede’s shoulder. Ed tips the oil into his palm, pauses a moment, then rubs his hands together, warming the liquid. Stede swells with adoration. Edward grabs his dick and coats it with quick, slick strokes. Stede yelps.
“All set,” Ed says, squeezing him once more for good measure.
“Are you sure?” Stede asks, running his hands against Edwards’ thighs, delighting the thick dark hair.
“It seems I’ll cause you discomfort, were I to just… forge ahead.”
“Nah,” Ed’s gaze drops, “Yeah, maybe a bit, but that’s okay.” He offers Stede a slight smile.
“No, it certainly isn’t,” Stede states. “No, Edward, I won’t have that, I won’t hurt you,” he grabs the glass bottle, shaking the lingering drops into his palm, “Not now, never again.”
Ed says nothing, just looks at him, awed.
Stede rolls his fingers in the oil, recollecting his anatomical studies of the past, the risqué texts and sketches he’d sought out and stashed.
He eases Ed’s thighs apart, pushing lightly with his knees. He takes Edward’s dick in his left hand, his right clutches his sack; he fondles gently and watches for the other man’s response. Ed moans.
Satisfied with the reaction, Stede reaches further, fingertip tracing a seam before meeting his mark. He encircles Edward’s entrance, watching his reaction keenly. Ed nods up at him, his teeth clamped into his lower lip.
Stede presses a finger inside him, slowly, slowly, not wishing to force his will. Edward moves against him, guiding him, urging him forward.
“You won’t break me,” Ed grumbles, teasing.
“No,” Stede agrees, “I won’t,” and he pushes that image from his mind of Blackbeard; teeth bared, expression hollowed and gaze blank.
He works delicately, ignoring his own throbbing, the draw of that tightness. As he presses in, he begins to curl his finger, meaning to ease his constriction.
Edward squeaks. Stede freezes.
“Do-that-again,” Ed breathes, pleading with eyes as wide as saucers.
Stede repeats the motion, pressing in to his second knuckle and twisting, rubbing. Ed arches and falls; he mutters and moans.
The Gentleman Pirate grins, pleased and astounded and riveted by what he’s seeing. He quickens his strokes against Edward’s shaft and continues curling his finger back and forth.
Edward Teach shudders beneath him, mumbling and moving and practically mewling.
Stede thinks that of all the luxuries he’s had before – and all he’s left behind - the fine fabrics, the rare jewels, his acreage, antiquities… and of the riches he’s yet to plunder, that this is the most valuable treasure he’s likely ever to acquire.
“More,” Edward wheezes, “please, Stede.” He looks at once blessed and devilish and it’s almost too much for Stede to bare. He eases a second finger inside him, twisting and curling them with more confidence now.
“My Lord… Ed, you’re so beautiful.” Stede can’t help but tell him, because it’s true and it’s an understatement, if anything, when he looks like something holy, something truly divine.
“So beautiful,” Stede insists, wishing his mind would cooperate with his mouth because he’s so much more than just beautiful. Yet his thoughts are all but lost to this spirit, his scylla; and to the tautness inside himself.
“…too good…” Edward is muttering, “…you’re… too…” a ragged breath, “for me… Stede…”
“Nonsense,” Stede slows his moments because he needs Ed to listen to him. “You deserve all the good things, the best, the finest; all that I can offer.” He holds Edward’s gaze, and he holds still around and inside him.
“Do you hear me, Edward Teach?”
Ed nods weakly.
“You are a good person, the best I know,” Stede moves slowly, just enough to accentuate his argument. “I will readily dedicate myself to proving that fact.”
Low mutters of nonsense words from Edward.
“You deserve all I can give you, and more.”
Ed folds his arms across his face; perhaps hiding flushing cheeks or watering eyes.
“Edward?” Stede hastens his motions, “Do you hear me?”
“Mmmhhmm,” Ed answers, revealing a shy smile from underneath his arm.
“Pardon?” Stede smirks now, quickening his pace.
“Jesus-fucking-Christ-YES!” He throws his arms against the bed, rises up on his elbows as if to prove he’s paying attention.
“Yes, yes, I hear you mister-Stede-fucking-Bonnet, yes. Now please, if I deserve it, will you stick your cock inside me before I lose my fucking mind.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely.”
“Fuck you,” Edward says playfully, the corners of his eyes creasing as he chuckles.
“No, no, not tonight my dear,” Stede eases his fingers from inside him and lines himself up with Edward’s hole. He gasps, his hand on his own neglected, weeping dick already a joy beyond measure. Stede exhales, fixes his gaze on Ed and pushes inside him.
“Fuck!” They curse simultaneously.
“Oh my God, Ed,” Stede freezes, almost overwhelmed with the sensation. “Oh, oh, no, Ed, are you okay?”
Edward arches against him, wrapping his thighs around Stede’s behind, and ramming himself forward.
“FUCK!” Just Stede this time, Ed groans.
“Are - are you sure I’m not hurting you?” Stede asks.
“Mmm,” Edward reaches for him, pulling him closer, mouth against his jaw, his cheek, his lips.
“Edward, you’re quite sure-”
“The Gentleman fucking Pirate-”
Just hearing Edward speak his moniker makes Stede’s mouth water.
“-you scoundrel, you siren – do not dare make me wait a moment longer.”
Stede grins against his mouth.
“As you wish, my captain.”
Stede draws back, taking his lips between his own, then buries himself exquisitely inside Edward.
He repeats the motion, thrusting as Ed rocks against him. There’s moans and sighs and curses and he doesn’t know which of the sounds are his; he knows only rapture, only rhapsody.
He’s made of gunpowder or quicksilver, of lightening or the aurora borealis. They move in unison, rocking against each other; rolling, rippling. Perhaps the ship is sinking beneath them; perhaps Stede doesn’t mind if it is. No, not sinking into the ocean depths but rising; surging, cresting. Edward howls, stiffens against Stede, his fingers clasping, his release hot and slick against their bellies. As Ed’s insides tighten against him Stede cries out, certain he is dying, that perhaps Blackbeard stuck him after all, stole back that which belonged to him already. He cares not, for he is here in Elysium, in euphoria, in ecstasy; in Edward.
Ed holds him, wraps those kraken limbs somehow tighter, as if to keep him there. As if there is anywhere else I would rather be.
The men lay bound; entangled, enraptured. Just breathing, just being.
The pounding lulls, that hammering in his heart and head and at the core of himself. Stede eases himself off Edward, just enough to withdraw, noting how Ed remains wound around him. He rolls to his side and nestles back against him; Edward wraps himself against his chest, his head on Stede’s shoulder and leg twisted round his thigh.
“Oh God,” Stede says, somewhat embarrassed as Ed’s leg brushes against his stockings.
“They’re cute,” Edward mumbles, glancing down.
Stede snorts; partly in disbelief, partly in delight.
Ed’s hand is against his chest, fingertips sweeping the curves of his tattoo. He thinks to tell Edward the story of it, the crew’s surprising success against an English ship, the celebrations that continued onshore, the talismans they each had inked for their continued good luck. He yawns, the story will wait.
“… Did it hurt?” Edward asks, turning to face him.
He scoffs a little, gaze sweeping the ink extending Ed’s torso. But he knows that’s not what he’s asking, not really.
“Terribly,” Stede confesses. “Like no pain I’ve ever felt, Edward.”
“And now?” Ed’s palm against his heart, his thumb tracing the inked script.
He presses his lips to Edward’s; it’s a promise, a prayer.
“Like no pleasure I’ve ever felt, my love.”