Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Hey, man, you got a light?”

Stede hoped he’d looked less startled than he’d felt at the low, smooth voice beside him at the bar. He’d been so lost in thought and the bubbles dancing up his glass of beer that he hadn’t noticed anyone taking a stool a couple feet over.

“Oh, uh…” He collected himself a bit and patted his pockets– first the breast pockets of his shirt and then the ones in his jeans. “Ah! I’ve got a matchbook. Let me just…”

He leaned back a bit to wriggle it free from his (rather tight) jeans, barely managing not to tear the flimsy paperboard, and sat up straight again, turning towards the source of the voice and feeling all out of sorts again.

“Cheers,” the man replied as he accepted the matchbook from Stede’s hand, which was practically frozen in pleasant shock at the sight before him.

This man was… fuck, he was a god! Okay, probably not a god– probably just a normal man– but he was incredible: tattooed hands, a neat beard, the most impressive head of long, salt and pepper hair Stede had ever seen, a tight purple pearl snap shirt with the most gorgeous floral embroidery peeking out from beneath a black leather jacket. A quick glance down confirmed Stede’s suspicions that his pants might be leather, too, and god, did he wear them well! The man perched a cigarette between his lips and struck a match, his face glowing as he led the flame to the tip of the cigarette until it caught. He passed the matchbook back, exhaling a plume of smoke over the bar and up towards the Christmas lights jauntily (if not haphazardly) strung across the ceiling.

“You’re a lifesaver,” the man said with a warm smile, the globes of his cheeks catching the light beautifully. “Name’s Ed, by the way.”

He extended the hand not preoccupied with his cigarette, and Stede could hardly believe how warm it was, how firm his grip felt without seeming domineering. Not a businessman, presumably, then– or not the type of businessman Stede had experience with, anyway.

“Stede,” he replied, vaguely aware that he might simply have been staring at him this whole time. If he had, so be it– Ed was quite stare-worthy and he had an air about him that suggested that he knew it and didn’t entirely mind. “Not to be dreadfully gauche, but do you come here often?”

Ed grinned, and oh, Stede liked that; he looked like a man who knew how to have a bit of fun– not that Stede had known very many of those, if he was honest, but he liked to think of himself as one, even if plenty of people seemed to beg to differ.

“Reckon I do,” Ed agreed with a little tilt of his head. “Never seen you here, though.”

It felt like a question, but a gentle one, in case it was a sore subject; after all, it was Christmas Eve in a gay bar, and emotions were surely all over the place. It was a fairly quiet night, in any case– no more raucous than Stede had ever seen a bar on any night besides New Year’s or maybe the Superbowl; just the lights, a few decorations, Christmas classics on the stereo, and a couple dozen patrons, a handful in cheerful sweaters and the rest in leather and Levis.

“I’m new to the area,” he said, which was only sort of true. In fact, he’d been there for nearly two years, but he’d hardly left the house for at least the first six months, at which point Mary had threatened to drive down and take him to a psychiatrist if he didn’t at least try to live a normal life (and she’d phrased it a bit more harshly, naturally, but he supposed she’d had the right, if anyone did, and there had been fondness in it, even if it wouldn’t have been audible to anyone else on the line). “Trying to finally get out a little.”

“Mm,” Ed replied, lips preoccupied with his smoke. “What brings you out on Christmas Eve, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Oh, just… nowhere better to be, I suppose,” he answered, mostly honestly. He certainly could have had Christmas with Mary and Doug and the kids, but that would have meant several hours of driving– part of it through snow– and he hadn’t been particularly eager to make the trip. And besides, Alma had the flu, and Mary and Doug hadn’t had a proper Christmas together yet, so he didn’t want to be in the way or anything. (Not that they’d have made him feel that way– certainly not intentionally– but it was a nice excuse.) Ed didn’t need to know any of that, though, of course; he could probably extrapolate just fine. “What brings you here?”

“Oh.” Ed chuckled warmly, sipping something mixed with cola. “‘S my bar. Or– half of it is, anyway; used to be my bar, but I kinda wanted out and Jackie wanted in. I’m sort of a silent partner these days. Mostly, anyway– had to fuckin’ draw the line at pulling knives on people; the last thing a gay bar needs is cops sniffing around, y’know?”

Somehow, it didn’t really look like the kind of place where pulling a knife on someone would even be justified, but maybe it was just the Christmas decor. Or, just as likely, he didn’t know as much about the area as he’d assumed he’d picked up on by now. It was quiet enough, mostly, and people were certainly more… salt of the earth than he was used to– in a good way. It was a nice change of pace, really. He liked that it was a little gritty, a little… run-down. Not just the bar, either– virtually everything in town. There were parts of it stuck in the late 1800s and others in, say, 1920, and few had made it past the mid-’50s, as far as he could tell. It was… quaint; a perfect place to start over, reset, reimagine.

“Of course,” he agreed, because while he was still fairly new to sleeping with men, he did know that much. He sipped his beer and smoothed the foam out of his mustache, noticing that Ed had angled himself towards him a bit, an elbow propped casually on the bar. “Are you hoping to change careers?”

Ed scrunched his nose a bit and shrugged, and Stede could have sworn the small motion was enough to waft the scent of leather, amber, and the slightest hint of sweat in his direction.

“Never been much of a career guy,” he said, taking a final long drag of his cigarette. “I mean, I’ve done well for myself, but sort of against my will.”

Stede huffed a little, brows flicking up. “Can’t say I’ve ever had that problem,” he replied, and it was only sort of a joke. He admired Ed’s confidence; he looked like the kind of person who had earned it.

“What do you do?” Ed asked, which was probably a natural follow-up. It made Stede feel a little flustered, though, nonetheless.

“Me? Oh… Well, nothing at the moment,” he answered, not entirely surprised to see Ed’s brows raise. “I mean, I don’t have a traditional job, that is– not anymore. Well, I suppose I hardly had one to begin with– I mean, I worked for my father– but I quit that a couple years ago. I write now.”

Ed’s brows raised again as he put his cigarette out and hooked the heel of his boot on the rung of his stool. “Yeah? For a living?”

“I mean, I suppose I can’t say that,” he replied, because for some reason, he felt he should be honest with Ed. He wasn’t obligated to, of course– they didn’t know each other from Adam, after all– but he hadn’t had a friend in a long time, and Ed seemed like a nice prospect, so he figured he should do his best to get off on the right foot. “Truthfully, I grew up wealthy, and if there’s one thing people who grew up wealthy know how to do, it’s stay wealthy, so I did that until I couldn’t stand to any longer and now I’m sort of just… frittering it away.”

Ed looked downright fascinated, which was doing a little something for Stede’s ego. “Fuck yeah, man!” he said, giving him a nice, sturdy clap on the shoulder and stirring up that delightful smell again. “Love that. So, what do you write?”

And that was the big question, because the real answer was “very nearly nothing,” and not for lack of trying. He’d had some luck early on– sold the odd magazine article and a handful of short stories– but he hadn’t quite found himself the way he’d expected to. And he supposed, of course, that these kinds of things would take time, but given that he had little else going on, he was really struggling to cope with that. He’d figured out some of the things he didn’t want to do, but that was the easy part of virtually anything; if there was one thing he’d always excelled at, it was not doing things he didn’t care to, and Mary would have wholeheartedly agreed. He couldn’t tell Ed all that, though; there was honesty, and then there was self-flagellation, and while he was quite good at the latter, he recognized that it wasn’t exactly a winning strategy for meeting new people.

“Different things,” he answered instead, which was true. “I’ve dabbled in all sorts of stuff. I can’t say I’ve really found my niche yet, though.”

“Do you do much fiction?” Ed asked, and Stede could practically feel him thinking about another cigarette. He didn’t look uneasy, just… active, like he needed an outlet for some spare energy. Stede wondered if maybe he kept up an unusual schedule, given that he was in the nightlife business. “Haven’t done much reading lately, but I used to fuckin’ love a good novel.”

Stede felt himself light up a little. “Oh? Yes, fiction’s my favorite– to read and write,” he said. “It can be so fun, can’t it? Escaping into another world, jumping into a fantasy, trying new things? That’s where I’d love to be spending my time and energy. That’s what I’m hoping to make a career of.”

Ed smiled warmly, and when he moved, his hair would occasionally catch the Christmas lights in such a way that the silveriest strands sparkled ever so slightly. Stede wanted to remember it and tuck it into a story someday– to try to capture a little of his effortless cool, his striking presence.

“Fun as hell,” Ed agreed with a little chuckle, apparently deciding against a cigarette and finishing his drink instead. “Working on anything now?”

“Oh.” Stede felt his cheeks heat up, probably more from vulnerability than real embarrassment. “I am. A… bit of fiction.”

Ed quirked a single eyebrow, and Stede couldn’t help but notice that he’d leaned in a bit. (Then again, “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” had just come on and it felt quite loud compared to the previous few numbers.) “Yeah? Not gonna give me any more than that?” he asked, a gentle tease in his voice. “What’s it about?”

“Well, you see, it’s…”

Stede stopped to take stock of the situation. He was in a gay bar– a leather bar, at that– and he was talking to a man (a stunning one!) who was almost certainly gay (and into leather, and wearing one of the loveliest western shirts Stede had ever seen in person), and Ed seemed genuinely interested. And if he was a reader, surely he’d… experimented a little, right?

“It’s a bit racy,” he said, and then immediately felt a little silly about his choice of words. If he was going to write this sort of thing, he might as well own it, shouldn’t he? “Adult, that is– sort of in the vein of gay pulp.”

Ed was definitely leaning in now, a grin of pleasant surprise spread across his face. “Yeah? Fuck, man, I love that shit!” he replied, because of course he would! Stede felt his shoulders ease a little. “I’ve got a whole collection of shit I inherited from a friend a few years ago. Dunno where it’s stored away at the moment, but he had shit going back to the forties. Some real wild stuff in there.”

So Ed knew a thing or two about gay erotica! By the sound of it, maybe even more than Stede! It felt like a rather promising development.

“So, what’s it about?” Ed asked again, clearly eager for a bit of a story.

Aside from a couple of silly little things he’d written for his own children (and later sold to a small magazine), Stede had never really talked much about his writing out loud. He’d faced considerable bullying as a child, and his parents had been rather cold, and he and Mary had had virtually nothing in common, so he’d sort of developed a pattern of keeping his little ideas to himself. Ed seemed… safe, though– open, nonjudgmental. Stede found that he rather wanted to share with him, that it made his stomach feel a little trembly.

“Well, it’s about a cowboy– or, two cowboys–”

“You know much about cowboys?” Ed asked, crossing one ankle over his knee and looking every bit like one.

Stede was fairly sure he was blushing and felt grateful for the dim, warm lights and their reddish glow. “Well, not really,” he admitted. “Just what I’ve read in books and seen on TV and in the movies, y’know? I’ve never really known any, but pulps aren’t really about realism, though, are they?”

“True,” Ed agreed with a warm laugh. “Turns out you do know one, though; I worked on a ranch until my early twenties.”

Well, if that didn’t do something funny to Stede’s stomach! “Oh?” he asked, hoping it didn’t sound too intrigued, that it maybe landed just this side of propriety. “Well, then, maybe I should hire you as a consultant! I could write the first queer cowboy novel with a bit of veracity.”

Was he flirting? He figured he probably was. It hadn’t been an intentional choice, per se, but the heart wants what the heart wants, and Ed was incredibly attractive, and he seemed like the kind of man whose company Stede could really enjoy– the kind who might even enjoy his.

“I’d be willing to give it a look,” Ed said, and it sounded very much like he might be flirting, too. His chin had taken on a delightful downward tilt and his eyes looked downright mischievous. “You said you didn’t have plans tonight?”

This was quickly turning out to be possibly the most exciting Christmas Eve of Stede’s life, save, maybe, for the one when his family had taken a trip to the Poconos when he was twelve or so and his father had twisted his ankle in the snow and spent the better part of the trip in the lodge and left Stede to his own devices, for once. He’d built a rather impressive snowman that afternoon.

“I thought I might maybe throw a couple logs in the fireplace and maybe make a hot toddy, but other than that…” he replied, which, okay, no, he hadn’t really been thinking of doing either of those things, but they sounded quite nice with company– far more interesting than just pulling on an extra pair of long johns and going straight to bed like he’d been more likely to do. “I suppose, if you’d like, I could pull my draft out and you could flick through it?”

Stede had… propositioned men before– a small handful of times, anyway– and it had generally gone quite well, but he didn’t think he’d ever felt so smooth about it. He’d just decided to go out for a drink or two, maybe get a little inspiration from watching other men flirt or chat or smoke, enjoy the holiday ambiance of someplace besides his own living room, and now he was inviting one of the most attractive men he’d ever seen to his house? Perhaps he was finally getting the hang of the whole “eligible bachelor” thing, or whatever the middle-aged gay equivalent of it was.

Ed’s smile was delightfully coquettish. “Happy to,” he answered, straightening up a little. “I’ll give you time to finish your beer while I handle a couple things around here, yeah?”

Stede had sort of forgotten about the beer, to be honest, but he agreed, taking a big swig as Ed vacated his seat and headed around to the back of the bar, presumably to check in with the bartender (whose lack of sleeves in late December was mildly startling, but then again, the bar was fairly cozy). Ed was quite tall, he couldn’t help but notice, and Stede liked the way he moved. He had a bit of swagger– just a bit, though; enough to seem cool and easy and charming, not enough to seem sleazy, or like a caricature. Stede sort of wanted to know everything about him, but he didn’t suppose this would be the kind of night for playing 20 Questions. (He wouldn’t have been upset either way!)

Stede finished his beer and thanked the bartender as he took his glass. Ed had disappeared somewhere– probably to his office– so Stede just swiveled his stool a bit and took in the bar a bit more. The crowd had picked up a little, he noticed, and there was a lovely little table of people in the corner who all appeared to be in their twenties and maybe early thirties, all of them affectionate with each other. There were a couple men in leather playing pool beneath the brightest lights in the room, all roughly his age, he figured, and clearly in good spirits. The small tree by the old jukebox was obviously fake, and the place smelled very much like alcohol and cigarettes instead of pine, but there was still something so homey about it– about the way people turned towards the door whenever it opened and greeted other regulars, the way the bartender and the young man at the end of the bar flirted over a bowl of pub mix, the little assortment of pillows and cushions and art scattered about, like people just wanted to add their own personal touches, or maybe they just thought of the bar sometimes and wanted to bring gifts.

He barely stopped himself from flinching a little when Ed’s warm hand landed on his shoulder from behind. “Hey, mate. Ready to go?”

He turned to him with a smile, caught off guard all over again by how stunning he was in the multi-colored light. “Let’s go,” he answered, sliding down from his stool and straightening his jacket a little. He offered Ed an arm, not entirely certain if it was the right move, but Ed took it instantly, warm and solid beneath his leather and smelling like fresh cologne, something warm and spicy. “Shall I drive? It’s not terribly far.”

”Yeah, man, if you could,” Ed replied, leading him to the door. He stopped suddenly as Stede reached for the handle, a grin on his face. When Stede looked over in question, Ed nodded up at the ceiling, where a sprig of plastic mistletoe was hung, complete with a red velvet bow. “‘S tradition, man.”

Stede’s stomach flipped a little, as if he hadn’t had some idea where this evening was heading. “Well, I suppose it is!” he agreed. “Can’t go bucking tradition!” He leaned in to place a soft kiss to Ed’s lips— not quite cautious, but perhaps polite. Ed’s lips were warm and soft, an interesting contrast to his smoky facial hair, and he could feel him smile a little, like he was pleased at the outcome of his decorating. “There we go.”

Ed laughed and scrunched his nose a little as he grabbed the door handle and pulled Stede out into the cool evening, his hair whirling a little in the wind. “You’re really something, man,” he said good-naturedly. “I like it.”

The drive to Stede’s place was, indeed, short, and made to feel even shorter by Ed’s delightful commentary on the Christmas songs on the radio, not to mention his warm hand on Stede’s thigh (which was rather distracting, if he was honest, but Stede considered himself an excellent driver, so he more than managed). As he pulled into his driveway, he couldn’t help but think that the lights along his roofline looked quite jolly in the slight fog, and he hoped Ed agreed.

”Nice place, man,” Ed said as he followed him to the door, politely scraping his boots on the doormat while Stede unlocked it and pulled it open for him. “You live here alone?”

”I do,” he confirmed, waiting for Ed to cross the threshold before following him in and shutting the door behind himself and flicking the switch for the tree lights on. The living room smelled lovely and green, much to his delight, and he was glad he’d opted for a real tree. He pulled his jacket off and hung it on the coat rack, unsnapping his sleeves and rolling them up a little before accepting Ed’s leather jacket and hanging it up, surprised at how warm it was and how much it smelled like his cologne. The embroidery on his shirt was even lovelier than he’d thought, now that he could see it better. “Make yourself at home. Would you like a drink? Whiskey, brandy, gin?”

Ed sat down on the couch with a contented little sigh, looking around the living room and taking in the trinkets and tchotchkes Stede had accumulated and chosen to display. He was quite fond of them, really— more than Mary ever had been— and he was pleased to see that Ed’s eyes looked bright and interested.

”I believe you mentioned a hot toddy?” Ed asked with a little grin, flashing those big, brown eyes back at him and making his stomach flip.

He grinned back. “So I did! Back in a flash,” he replied, tossing his keys and wallet into their designated bowl on the console table.

“Wait!” Ed called, stopping him in his dash to the kitchen. “Mind grabbing me that draft real quick? To read while I wait?”

Stede was almost surprised— not unpleasantly so— that Ed really hadn’t been kidding about wanting to read his writing. (It did make him feel a bit flushed, though.) “Oh. Of course not!” he answered, diverting course to go to his desk beside the window. He opened the drawer and removed his small stack of pages, absently brushing off a bit of dust that wasn’t there before turning to deposit them into Ed’s tattooed hands. “Here you are. Be gentle,” he added, although he wasn’t entirely sure why; Ed didn’t seem like the type to be a harsh critic.

”As a lamb,” Ed assured him with a very dashing wink before setting the draft aside to pull his boots off and settle into the couch for comfier reading. He looked very striking there, in his black leather, against the warm yellow velvet of the sofa, the contours of his clothing illuminated by the colorful glow of the Christmas tree. Stede quite liked the image.

Satisfied that his illicit words were in good hands, Stede took off his own boots, leaving them in their designated spot beside the door, before heading to the kitchen to wash his hands and boil the kettle for tea, trying not to keep peeking into the living room to try and catch Ed’s immediate reactions to the text. It was nice to have something to do with his hands, though, and to do something for someone else; it had been a while since he’d had the pleasure.

Once the drinks had been assembled, piping hot and fragrant, Stede carefully carried them to the living room, depositing them on the coffee table before going to get a fire going. (After all, Ed was still reading, and he didn’t want to interrupt him. Or—he did, but he was trying desperately not to.) Once his kindling showed no sign of fizzling out and his meticulously-stacked logs were starting to catch, Stede stepped back a bit to watch the fire grow, almost certain he could feel Ed’s eyes on his back but unwilling to check.

“If I turn off the lamp,” he said, hands making their way ever-so-casually into his pockets, “d’you think you’d still have enough light to read by?”

He finally turned, catching a crooked little grin from Ed.

“Yeah, I reckon that’d be fine,” Ed replied, and already, the fire was doing incredible things for the highlights and contours of his face.

Stede smiled and went to get the lamp before finally making his way to the sofa and taking a seat, not so close to Ed that he might appear to be reading over his shoulder, but not particularly far, either. He grabbed his drink and took a sip, pleased to find that it had cooled to the perfect temperature and went nicely with the smell of the fireplace and warmed him just as much.

“Any thoughts so far?” he asked, unable to resist.

Ed reached for his own glass and took a sip, licking his lips approvingly. “Lots,” he chuckled, which inexplicably made Stede feel a little sick before he quickly added, “Good ones, though. You’re a good writer, man– strong dialogue, vivid settings… I mean, yeah, already, some of the cowboy shit’s a bit nonsensical, but like you said, it’s about the fantasy, yeah?”

Stede had, perhaps, done more fantasizing about cowboys than he was eager to admit, really. “Exactly,” he agreed, choosing not to be upset about the word “nonsensical” having been applied to any part of his work. (After all, he knew it was true.) “What do you think of Buck?”

“So far, I think he’s kind of a dick,” Ed admitted with a chuckle, shifting to face Stede a little better. Stede couldn’t help but wonder how much give his leather pants had, whether they’d gotten more flexible with age, how they felt against his skin. “It’s kinda hot, though– acts like he owns the place, knows his way around a saddle, isn’t afraid to ask for what he wants. Plus, I’ve kinda always had a thing for blondes.”

Stede didn’t even care if that was generally true; he (occasionally) recognized flirting when he heard it. “I think I sort of wrote him as my ideal self,” he admitted. “I mean, in an exaggerated sort of way, obviously– sexier, more commanding.”

“You’re plenty sexy, man,” Ed assured him with another casual sip of his drink. “Believe it or not, I don’t just follow anyone home.” Stede’s brows flicked up a little as he realized what he might have been implying, but Ed laughed, waving him off. “I’m kidding. I mean, I’m not, but you know what I mean.”

“I think you fluster me,” Stede admitted with a little chuckle, and he wasn’t sure whether his cheeks were warm from the fire or if he was blushing.

“Good,” Ed replied with a grin, and god, he was rather afraid he was about to start sweating. “Anyway, I was just getting to some of the smut.”

“Oh?” Stede asked, trying very hard to be casual. “The bit in the–”

“Yeah, the bit in the barn,” Ed answered, still grinning. “Think Jackson’s got a real thing for Buck, whether he wants to admit it or not– likes bein’ bossed around a little. Is that what you’re into? Being in charge?”

There was no judgment in Ed’s voice at all, just genuine curiosity, but Stede felt startlingly bare in front of him, surprisingly vulnerable.

“I suppose, maybe,” he replied, shrugging nonchalantly. “It’s at least a nice idea, isn’t it?”

“It can be nice,” Ed answered, taking another sip from his glass before setting it back down on the table. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Oh, not at all!” Stede answered, and, upon seeing that Ed was about to get up and go for his jacket, held his hand out as if to tell him not to bother before reaching for the shiny gold dispenser on the coffee table and lifting the lid, plucking two cigarettes out and handing one to Ed. “I hardly smoke, admittedly, but I’ve sort of always liked the pageantry of it.”

Ed’s grin returned as he placed the cigarette between his lips and leaned in to accept a light, his eyes the loveliest amber in the glow of the flame. “Cheers,” he said with a little chuckle, smoke curling from his lips. “Is that what drew you to cowboy shit, too?”

“Oh, part of it, I’m sure,” he replied, tossing his spent match into the meticulously clean green marble ashtray on the table. He pulled it a little closer to them, not surprised to find that the stone was still cool despite the rising temperature in the room. “The pageantry, the tradition, the… ruggedness, I suppose? There’s certainly something romantic about wide open spaces and all that– fending for one’s self.”

Ed examined him for a moment as he smoked, like he was trying to take him apart or put him together, maybe untangle him a bit. Stede resisted the urge to find somewhere else to train his eyes and pretend it wasn’t happening; after all, most people would surely have considered letting someone else read their unpolished, unedited, unpublished work far more challenging than letting them get to know them a little. He watched Ed’s face as he watched him, as if they were in some sort of very mundane stand-off, the fire crackling cozily in the background.

“What do you want me to do right now?” Ed finally asked, leaning over to knock a column of ash from his cigarette.

Had Stede’s heart always beat so heavily, he wondered? “What?” he asked, although he’d actually heard quite well.

“C’mon, man, boss me around a little,” Ed said with a smile that looked open, inviting, enthused. “Be Buck. Say you’d drifted into town and onto my ranch and wanted to put me in my place, show me who’s Foreman; how would you do it?”

“Well, I’d…”

Stede paused, and the world felt a little off-kilter, so he took another sip of his hot toddy, as if alcohol might help. Ed looked serious– or, as serious as one could be when encouraging someone to play, and Stede was certainly not used to playing like this. But, of course, he’d had to get into Buck’s head to write him, hadn’t he? He’d thought about this before, in a much more distant, roundabout, theoretical way– what it would be like to dominate someone a little, to tease feelings out of himself and someone else by working with trust, finding where it began and ended, how deep it could run. And Ed was probably the most attractive man he’d ever met, so naturally, he wasn’t about to–

Ed placed a hand on his knee as he leaned over to put his cigarette out, his hair spilling over his shoulders. “Would it help if we kissed a little?” he asked, his voice low and smooth.

Stede knew he could manage that. He put his own cigarette out and carefully plucked his stack of pages from Ed’s lap to deposit them on the table, skin tingling as Ed scooted closer, his leather-clad knee propped against Stede’s denim and his hand sliding up Stede’s thigh a bit. Stede followed the instinct to slide his fingers into the hair behind Ed’s ear, not at all surprised to find it soft and warm, and leaned in as Ed cupped his cheek, his breath hot and a little boozy. The kiss started tentatively– just as gentle and unobtrusive at the one beneath the mistletoe– but built steadily, until Ed’s tongue was parting his lips and his mouth was eagerly opening for him. Ed tasted like cinnamon and whiskey and cigarettes, yes, but also like Ed– not quite like anything or anyone he’d tasted before, rich and warm and enticing.

“Good?” Ed asked quietly, lips grazing over Stede’s before kissing them again, his hand sliding down a bit to his neck, fingers no doubt met by barely-visible stubble.

“Very,” he agreed, giving Ed’s lower lip a little nip, just to see how he’d respond. Ed grinned and caught his lips again with a little noise of contentment, the kind that Stede could practically feel in his chest. “You’re quite kissable.”

Ed, apparently caught off guard, practically snorted in his face, which Stede was fairly certain he might have found rude, were Ed anyone else on the planet. Coming from Ed, though, it made him feel warm, made him laugh against his lips and into his mouth, like they were in on the same joke.

“You’re a nut,” Ed asserted with a grin in his voice and his fingers playing with the curls above Stede’s collar in such a way that his scalp was sending tingles all the way down his arm. “I like it.”

Stede smiled and tried not to feel too flattered as he experimented by kissing the scruff of Ed’s jaw, the soft skin of his neck, the lovely expanse of his throat. Ed let him do as he pleased and seemed more than happy to do it, making little sounds of approval that vibrated against Stede’s lips quite intriguingly. From this close, Ed’s cologne was even spicier, darker, more animalic, or perhaps some of it was just Ed’s scent, and his skin was so wonderfully warm, his pulse hard and steady beneath Stede’s tongue.

“Any ideas yet, cowboy?” Ed asked, his short nails grazing Stede’s scalp. The breathiness in his voice was like a dream.

What would Buck do? No, actually, fuck it— what would Stede Bonnet do if a gorgeous man asked him to tell him what to do, to order him around a little, asked him how he could be good for him? He was being afforded an opportunity– a gift, and on Christmas Eve, no less!-- that some men would probably have been willing to die for, if only idiomatically; all he had to do was be brave and take it, accept that he was, indeed, “plenty sexy” and that Ed clearly wanted him. And Ed was, of course, a grown man; if he wanted to be told what to do, that was his prerogative, wasn’t it? He owned (or co-owned, Stede remembered) a leather bar, for god’s sake! The man could surely only be so vanilla. (Stede rather liked vanilla, actually, but he’d never been one to say no to a new flavor when one presented itself.)

“Shirt off,” he requested against Ed’s jaw, sounding almost firm, then added a quiet, “please.”

Ed sat up straighter with a grin, immediately tugging his shirt free of his pants and pulling the snaps open with ease to expose his soft, tattooed belly and chest, both delightfully hairy. Because it felt strange to ask Ed to expose himself while being fully dressed, Stede set to work on his own shirt, taking a little more time with his snaps than Ed did, if not for any reason other than the fact that his mind was entirely elsewhere (like where the softest bit of Ed’s midsection spilled over his leather a little, or the noticeable bulge in his trousers, made more obvious by the glow of the Christmas tree).

“Anything else?” Ed asked, looking rather like the cat that got the cream (and looking, Stede couldn’t help but notice, quite intently at his chest as he pulled his shirt free of his arm and draped it over the back of the couch). “What can I do for you, hoss?”

Stede wrinkled his nose a little, flattered as he was. “Maybe don’t call me ‘hoss,’” he replied, which made Ed laugh and got him chuckling in return.

“Noted,” Ed said with a nod, moving even closer and resting a hand on Stede’s chest, fingers carding through the red-gold hair scattered over it. His skin was warm, but his touch still sent goosebumps up Stede’s arms. “Whatever you want, Stede, it’s yours; got very few hard nos.”

He didn’t need to know Ed very well to believe it, and it was intriguing and intimidating in equal measure. What did he want? He’d slept with other men, of course– a handful of times, anyway– and he couldn’t recall ever having asked himself that question, short of the obvious fact that he wanted sex and he preferred men. Sex with Mary had had a purpose; sex after Mary had been for fun, and it had been fun, and enlightening, and it had made a lot of things make a lot more sense, but it had been… rote? That seemed unfair, of course, both to himself and to his partners, but it had never been especially exploratory, aside from the fact that he’d been new to some things. But what did he want? He supposed he’d never bothered to care much.

“I’d like to see you,” he finally answered, giving into the impulse to slide a hand up Ed’s thigh, to knead at the flesh beneath the leather and test the give of his pants. “Get your cock out for me.”

“Yes, sir,” Ed replied with a smile, clearly delighted to have gotten Stede to play his little game. He leaned into the couch a bit to unbutton and unzip his trousers, shifting his hips a little as he opened them. Stede shifted a bit closer, and already, he could tell very clearly that Ed had nothing on under them, could see the dark thatch of his pubic hair and the soft skin of his dick tucked into them. Ed carefully eased his cock free, half-hard and lovely as he gave it a few easy strokes.

“Gorgeous,” Stede said, almost surprised at himself. He felt undoubtedly bolder now, though– more willing to make moves. “May I have you in my lap?”

Ed’s breath hitched a little and his smile widened. “Fuck yeah,” he huffed, shifting to straddle Stede’s thighs (and making no mention of his very visible erection, at least for the time being). It didn’t seem especially easy in his leathers, but he managed, wrapping one hand around his cock again and the other arm around the back of Stede’s neck. “Can I have a kiss?”

Stede answered with his lips, both hands settling on the soft flesh of his sides, right where his palms could meet both skin and leather, feel the difference in texture and temperature and the rise and fall of his breath. This close, Stede could smell Ed’s sweat, his musk, hot leather; it made him shiver a little, especially when paired with the slide of Ed’s tongue along his own, his warm breath against his mustache.

“Touch yourself for me,” Stede requested against his lips, nipping gently before he settled back into the cushions a bit to give himself a better view.

It occurred to him, as he watched Ed spit in his own hand and wrap it back around his cock, that they’d known each other for probably less than two hours. Not that that was unusual for a hookup, of course– Stede knew it wasn’t– but it was unusual for him, and it was even more unusual for it to be happening in his own home, on his own couch; in fact, he’d actually never had a beautiful man half-naked in his lap, come to think of it. Maybe he was finally really turning over the new leaf he’d been working on since his divorce.

“Like this?” Ed asked, breathing hard as he stroked himself, and god, he had incredible arms; Stede could hardly believe he hadn’t noticed yet, but he supposed he’d been focused on other things.

“Perfect,” Stede confirmed, watching as Ed’s thumb rolled over the head of his cock, swiping up some precome that had been beading there. He could feel Ed’s eyes on his face, his breath ruffling his hair, the slide of leather on denim as he fucked into his own fist. “God, Ed, you’re lovely.”

Ed huffed a little, tipping his forehead into Stede’s. “You’re supposed to be bossin’ me around, man, not being sweet,” he replied, although he didn’t sound at all upset about it; in fact, Stede was almost certain he was blushing, although it was kind of hard to tell, given that his back was to the tree and fireplace and both had a fairly reddish glow, so perhaps he simply wanted him to be.

“Well, then, you’re…” Stede searched his brain for something bossy, which was normally not a difficult thing for him to come up with, but Ed really was lovely, and he didn’t want to lie.

Ed snorted into his hair, the soft flesh of his belly expanding and contracting in short, rapid bursts beneath Stede’s thumbs as he laughed. “Alright, yeah, you’re no Buck,” he teased, groaning softly at his own touch. “Still fuckin’ hot, though.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Stede huffed in reply, his cheeks unmistakably hot, and it was more of a deflection than anything. “I can be commanding.”

“Do it, then,” Ed challenged with a grin as he sat back on Stede’s thighs a little. “Put your money where your mouth is.”

The last thing Stede wanted was to back down from a challenge; he’d never been especially competitive, but he supposed he’d probably just been less interested in most of the games and competitions he’d been an unwilling participant in all his life. The circumstances here were quite different.

“Why don’t you put your mouth on my cock?” he ordered, and it only felt a little silly.

Ed looked pleasantly surprised, though, dark eyes glistening as he bit his lip. “Fuck, yes, sir,” he replied breathlessly, letting go of his own cock and absently wiping his hand across his thigh before palming Stede’s through his jeans, sending a shockwave of heat through his body. “How do you want me?”

“On your knees,” he answered, nodding towards the hardwood and feeling rather surprised to find that his posture suddenly felt a bit better, like he’d tapped into a well of confidence. He slid his fingers up into Ed’s hair, gripping gently at the base of his skull, and pulled him into a kiss– probably the roughest of the night so far– and couldn’t help but grin at Ed’s breathy little moan, which he took to mean that he was on the right track. “Down you get, Edward; hurry up.”

That earned him another little moan, much to his delight, before Ed carefully eased himself out of Stede’s lap and scrambled to the floor– undoubtedly not an easy feat in leather pants. He wished he’d thought to toss a throw pillow down for him first, but Ed didn’t seem at all bothered as he settled in between Stede’s knees and slid his hands up his thighs. He looked up at Stede as if waiting for permission, fingertips grazing along the outline of his cock.

“May I..?”

“Go ahead,” he replied, giving in to the urge to run his fingers through Ed’s hair as Ed unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Naturally, Stede did have underwear on, so, rather than letting them be a hindrance, he lifted his hips and began sliding his jeans and boxers down, his knuckles brushing Ed’s before he let him take over. “The socks, too, please,” he said, and didn’t miss the way Ed grinned as he did as he was told.

“Fuck, man, you’ve got a nice cock,” Ed noted, hands sliding up Stede’s bare legs, kneading at his thighs, sending his hair on-end. He kissed the inside of Stede’s right thigh, then the left, then nuzzled at his balls and wrenched a fairly undignified sound from his lips. “You smell good. Bet you taste good, too.”

Commanding, Stede reminded himself, as if he didn’t feel all wound up and covered in goosebumps. “Why don’t you shut up and find out?” he asked, and Ed’s grin went delightfully sly and eager.

Ed wrapped a hand around Stede’s cock and gave it a few strokes before tilting it towards his belly to suck at his balls, eyes on his face the whole time like he was gauging his reactions. And Stede was reacting– probably rather loudly, he knew– but it was a little hard to care with Ed’s tongue easing its way up the underside of his cock, and then even harder when he drizzled a mouthful of spit over his head and lapped his way up again, looking quite content to be exactly where he was, half-naked on Stede’s living room floor.

“You’re– fuck– quite good at that, you know,” Stede breathed, stomach flipping at the way Ed’s eyes fell shut when his lips wrapped around the head of his cock. Ed just groaned a little in response, but Stede could just make out a little smile tugging at the corner of his otherwise-occupied mouth. “Fuck, Ed…”

Ed worked his way down his length, taking him in slowly, his mouth hot and wet and the breath from his nostrils rustling Stede’s pubic hair just enough to tickle a little. Stede slid a hand back into Ed’s hair and scratched at his scalp a little, noting the way it made the hairs on his arms raise. Deciding to lean into the moment a bit more, he tightened his grip on his hair a little– just enough to tug and hopefully not enough to hurt– and was treated to a wonderfully indulgent moan around his cock and Ed’s fingers digging into his thigh, all of which felt like excellent signs that he was on the right track.

“Do you like that?” he asked, almost surprised at how rough his own voice had gone. “Do you like it when I pull your hair?”

Ed nodded a little– surely not an easy feat– and flicked his eyes up to meet Stede’s as if to answer and ask for more. He looked lovely (and, okay, a little messy), and Stede couldn’t resist swiping a thumb beneath his eyes to clear away the tears that had gathered there.

“Do you want me to fuck your face?” he asked, feeling bold, and Ed’s breathless moan was an answer he could make out loud and clear.

He tightened his grip a bit more and met Ed’s eyes before easing his head back, then forward, sinking him onto his cock until he could feel his throat flex around him. (Ed really, really was good at giving head, and Stede was tempted to tell him so again, but he figured it could wait for the time being.) He could feel Ed giving him control, letting himself be guided, letting himself be used, and it was… intoxicating, actually– far more than Stede could ever have imagined just by writing a similar scenario. Because Ed was tall and strong and confident, but there he was– putty in Stede’s hands and drooling on his cock, his hair a mess and his tight pants askew, his own cock half-hard and no doubt leaving a little wet spot on the well-kept black leather.

He set a steady rhythm and felt Ed follow, both of them breathing hard and adding little moans and groans to the backing track of the crackling fire, the gentle wind outside, the quiet creak of the springs in the sofa. One of Ed’s hands slowly made its way over his hip, up his side, and to his chest, fingers brushing over his nipple and making him shudder. His hands were so big and warm and firm, not to mention incredibly nice to look at, what with the tattoos and veins and the smattering of hair across his knuckles. Stede let his free hand stroke at Ed’s arm, feeling goosebumps there, but also the faint raise of his tattoos and the flex of his muscles, and he wanted very much to get his hands all over him eventually, to look at each tattoo up close and listen to him talk about each one in that low, smooth voice.

When he started noticing the tension rising in his core, Stede held Ed’s head in place and eased his hips back into the couch before beginning to release his fingers from his hair, giving his scalp an apologetic little scratch. Ed eased his way off of his cock and let it slide from his lips with a little pop, his lips slick and his eyes watery and his breathing hard.

“You got other plans for me?” he asked, voice a little ragged. He busied his hands with massaging Stede’s thighs again, smiling as Stede leaned in for a kiss.

He could taste himself on Ed’s lips and tongue now, and he found that he really didn’t mind. He didn’t even mind that he could feel the spit from Ed’s facial hair smearing against his own, and he took that to mean that he really did like Ed quite a bit so far, given that he hadn’t always felt similarly in the past. He ran his fingers through Ed’s hair as they kissed, carding through the knots he’d started earlier, careful not to tug too hard at them.

“How do you feel about frotting?” he asked against Ed’s lips, his own cheeks warming at the question, for some godforsaken reason.

Ed moaned softly and nuzzled his nose, brown eyes glimmering with what could only be described as mischief. “Feel pretty good about it,” he answered, fingers ghosting along the length of Stede’s cock when he wasn’t paying attention. “You gonna make me do it?”

He definitely liked Ed a lot.

“On the sofa,” he ordered with a grin, giving Ed’s cheek a fond little pat, for which he got an eager smile and a rather adorable nose wrinkle in return.

He offered Ed his hands and helped pull him to his feet, once again feeling bad for not having provided him with a pillow, given that he was no doubt stiff. Ed didn’t seem bothered, though, and waited for Stede to get up before sliding his arms around his waist and pulling him into another kiss.

“You got lube?” Ed asked, one dark brow raised almost in accusation.

“Ye of little faith,” Stede teased, giving him a little nudge. “On the sofa,” he commanded again. “I’ll be right back.”

He hurried off to his room, nearly forgetting he was naked (as if it mattered– he lived alone, and besides, it was a holiday), and opened the drawer on his nightstand to retrieve his little decorative jar of Crisco, already eager to make Ed come. He could already imagine how gorgeous he’d be, the kinds of sounds he’d make, the way his short fingernails might dig into Stede’s skin.

In the living room (which was now quite warm, although the fire was in desperate need of a good prodding that he simply didn’t have time for), Ed had followed his orders, but he also looked quite winded, sprawled out on his back with one bare leg dangling from the couch and the other stretched out along the velvet, still encased in leather. No doubt seeing Stede’s raised eyebrow, Ed laughed, tossing an arm over his eyes.

“Tried to get my pants off,” he explained, as if it wasn’t obvious. “Too fuckin’ sweaty.”

It was endearing, honestly. Stede laughed and went to join him on the couch, nudging his way in between his legs and delighting in the way Ed wrapped the one still trapped in clothing around his bare calf. The leather felt nice on his skin, actually– warm and slick and smooth.

“Do you want help?” he offered, letting himself be pulled into a kiss.

Ed shook his head and plucked the jar from Stede’s hand, nipping at his lip. “I’ll deal with it later,” he replied, unscrewing the lid and scooping out some shortening. “You were really starting to get a hang of the Buck thing for a minute there, by the way. It was fun– you’re fun.”

Stede had possibly never been more flattered in his life, especially fully nude. “Why, thank you,” he huffed, nudging himself up a little as Ed’s hand snaked between their bodies, both of them shifting a little until he could get a hand around both of their cocks and coat them with lube. He dipped his shoulders a little so he could snag another kiss, groaning against Ed’s lips. “You’re fun, too.”

Again, Stede could almost swear Ed was blushing, and this time, his back wasn’t even to the light; in fact, his face was bathed in it, doused in the soft glow of colored bulbs. He was impossibly beautiful, with his hair splayed out and his lips kissed full and something like breathless joy all over his features.

“Would you still like me to be bossy with you?” Stede asked, and frankly, he wasn’t sure he could keep his composure well enough to, given how good it felt to have Ed’s slick hand around his cock and Ed’s lined up against it.

Ed snorted a little, and Stede was really beginning to find it quite charming. “I don’t fuckin’ care, man,” he answered, giving his hips a little roll that nearly bowled Stede over. “Frankly, I just want you to come all over me.”

Easy enough, Stede figured. He eased his weight onto one arm to put the jar of Crisco on the floor and then shifted to catch Ed’s lips again as he rolled his own hips, feeling hot all over at the slide of his cock over Ed’s, the warmth of Ed’s fingers.

“This okay?” he breathed, scattering kisses along Ed’s jaw as he established a rhythm that Ed quickly joined him in, his free arm flung around his neck as if to keep him closer.

“Fuck yeah,” Ed huffed as his fingers slid up into the hair at the base of Stede’s neck, sending tingles down his spine. “So fucking good, Stede.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He brushed Ed’s hand aside and settled in on top of him, sinking his teeth into his neck and delighting in Ed’s startled groan. The additional skin-to-skin contact was electrifying, waking up every nerve ending in his body and setting them all alight. Ed’s slick hand made its way to his ass and gripped at his flesh as if trying to bring him closer, trying to edge him on, and Stede couldn’t help but imagine what it’d be like to fuck him, to sink deep inside of him and stay there until they both fell apart. He wanted it, he decided, if Ed did– wanted it more than he’d wanted anything in a long time, if he was honest, and it probably had everything to do with the way Ed’s body moved against his, the way his head was pressed back into a throw pillow and his eyes had fallen shut and his jaw had tipped open, the way he moaned Stede’s name as they chased their pleasure.

“Fuck, Ed, I’m close,” Stede warned against his neck, working his fingers into the hair at the base of Ed’s skull as if in search of more points of contact.

“Me, too,” Ed replied breathlessly, almost a laugh, as he nudged Stede’s jaw up for an entirely ungraceful kiss.

Stede was (rather unsurprisingly, given Ed’s earlier attention) the first to topple over the edge, coming between their bodies with a shudder and a groan and adding ease to the glide of Ed’s cock along his own. Ed wasn’t far behind, though, and Stede was not at all disappointed when he watched him come, enthralled by the way his breath hitched and his brows furrowed as he clung to Stede’s back as if to keep himself from floating away.

Soon, the room was quiet– filled with nothing but the sounds of their ragged breaths and the dying fire. Despite the fact that there was little light now but the tree, the room felt brighter, not to mention warmer, and there was nothing for it but to slide his arms between Ed’s back and the couch and bury his face in his neck as he caught his breath, breathing him in, smelling his sweat and cologne and shampoo. Ed made a contented little noise and nuzzled his head, fingertips drawing absent shapes over his back so gently that it probably would have tickled if he didn’t feel so buzzy.

“Reckon it’s probably Christmas now,” Ed mused, his voice almost sleep-slurred.

Stede lifted his head (which wasn’t an easy feat at the moment) and tried to make out the clock on the mantle, without a lot of success. “Probably so,” he agreed with a kiss. “Do you have plans tomorrow? Or, well, today?”

He was hoping for a no, but he certainly didn’t want to be selfish or presumptuous.

Ed smiled and kissed him back, brushing some hair back out of Stede’s face (only for it to flop right back into it). “Nah, no plans,” he replied. “You?”

Stede tried not to look too pleased. “No plans,” he said. “Stay here tonight and join me for breakfast? I’ll even help you get your other leg free before bed?”

Ed grinned, and he was undoubtedly the most beautiful thing Stede had ever seen. “Only if you’ll read me some more of your story once we settle in,” he yawned, which led Stede to believe he wouldn’t be able to stay awake for much storytime, anyway.

“You want me to read you to sleep with the barn sex?” he huffed, afraid he might be smitten.

“I want you to read me to sleep with the barn sex,” Ed confirmed with a nod, both arms wrapping tightly around Stede’s waist. “Gimme something nice to dream about and you might get somethin’ nice in the morning.”

Stede had no doubt about that, and it was perhaps the most excited he’d been for Christmas Day in a very, very long time.