Preface
The Biblical Sense
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at /works/37877560.
Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Category: M/M Fandom: Our Flag Means Death (TV) Relationship: Blackbeard Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet Character: Blackbeard Edward Teach, Stede Bonnet Additional Tags: First Time, Baby's First Foray Into Enjoyable Sex Language: English Stats: Published: 2022-03-21 Words: 2,591 Chapters: 1/1 The Biblical Sense
by Fyre
Summary
"Wh-what's this?" Stede managed in a strangled croak.
Ed's eyes creased around the edges. Smiling. One could always tell by them, even if his beard and moustache and everything else hid his mouth. "I know you're a bit new to the whole… seaman thing," he said with that rumble of amusement in his voice, "but I thought even you'd recognise a come on when you saw one."
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
The Biblical Sense
Things had, Stede thought wildly, escalated rather quickly.
He pushed himself back in his armchair, his shoes skittering against the floor, but none of that did anything to change the fact that Ed had pressed his hands to Stede's thighs, pushing, pressing them wide, and dropped down to kneel between them.
He had – his hands – they were – yes, the breeches were fine silk but they really weren't doing a bloody thing to keep out the broad, hard heat of Ed's palms, his fingers, the dimples in the cloth something he should cry protest about, but all he could think was harder.
"Wh-what's this?" he managed in a strangled croak.
Ed's eyes creased around the edges. Smiling. One could always tell by them, even if his beard and moustache and everything else hid his mouth. "I know you're a bit new to the whole… seaman thing," he said with that rumble of amusement in his voice, "but I thought even you'd recognise a come on when you saw one."
A come-on. Yes. One… one of those things Stede had definitely and absolutely experienced first-hand. A quivering sound hitched in his throat as those broad hands slid higher, thumbs dipping down to track the perfect line of the seam.
"I-I-I've not had the… the…" His fingers clenched around the arm of the chair. "Arranged marriage. You see. Convenience."
Ed's brows pulled down. "Yeah?" He pushed himself up and oh lord oh lord oh lord, the weight of him, bearing down on his hands, on Stede's thighs, the hot, heavy press, leaning closer, his hips squared between Stede's knees as if they belonged there. "This," he said as those those those big large strong hands reached the top of Stede's thighs, broad and squeezing, both thumbs pressing where no one had pressed before, "is a come-on."
"Fuck!" A squeak. Squeaking like a boy.
With a chuckle – not a cruel one, not unkind, but something else, something like affection – Ed lightened his touch. "I can stop if you want."
"Please don't!"
Ed flashed his teeth in a grin. "Thought you might say that."
One hand moved, up and over.
Stede swallowed the frantic whimper as the buttons of his breeches were undone, one, then the other. And all the while, Ed's other hand pressed down, hot and heavy and not at all helping the boiling heat coiling in his middle, holding him steady, as if he was a skittish colt. Heaven's sake, he might as well be. Astonishing really that he wasn't thrashing in a fretful panicked mess.
With a flick of his finger, Ed flipped the front of his breeches down, as if as if as if this wasn't much further than anyone had divested him, save his men at home. As if. Oh. It. Mortified, he stared at the prominent jut of his shirt, poking upwards, shameless and demanding.
"I-I really – I haven't – it's a bit–"
His words were cut off by Ed's mouth on his, his hand at the back of Stede's head, and all thoughts scattered like… scattery things.
"Yeah. It's a bit," Ed spoke low against his lips. Against them. Wet and warm and sharing his breath. Stede whimpered again, shuddered as thick, rough fingers squeezed his nape and his thigh and Ed licked his mouth, licked it open, still tasting of rum and marmalade.
He ought – should he touch? Was that? How did one… do the… business part? When it wasn't purely a duty? Did one do as Mary did? Lie back, hum nonsense? But he didn't want to do that. He wanted to… to something. But it – he hadn't– oh Heavens, the rasp of the beard on his skin was strange and delicious and that tongue in his mouth…
Ed sucked on his bottom lip, making him jolt as if struck by lightning and made certain parts even more attentive to proceedings. His fingers clung onto the arms even harder. Wouldn't do to do it wrong. Better to let Ed take the lead and–
"I'm gonna suck you off." Hot breath and words on his lips and a pitiable wail in Stede's throat. Ed stroked his nape again, more gently. "Sh, sh, sh. It's all right. I'll take care of everything." I'll take care of you hung unspoken between them and with a last brush of lips and moustache and beard, Ed sank back down to his heels.
Lungs heaving like the bellows, Stede could only stare as Ed dragged his hand back down, bunching his fingers in the front of Stede's shirt, twisting and pulling it loose from his breeches, inch by inch.
No, he ought to have said. Stop. Don't. It's unseemly. Ungentlemanly. Against the laws of God and men. He ought to have, but he could only stare down like a madman, drinking in Ed's dark eyes on his body, watching the man watching him, as little by little, he exposed him, bared him, pink and hard and shameless.
Ed showed his eyes and a hint of a grin, then lunged like a wolf.
Stede howled as Ed's mouth closed on his… on it, sucking, tongue stroking, hot and wet and pressure and–
"Fuck!" His hips lifted on their own, knees clamping on Ed's sides. Already? No! no no no, how bloody embarrassing if–
Ed's finger and thumb closed around him in a tight loop, squeezed–
"Oh!" Stede yelped, thumping his heel against the floor, as the world contracted to that pressure, stopping everything dead in its track. No! Surely he wouldn't! "You. What? What's–"
Dragging his mouth up slowly, obscene and wet, Ed lifted his head and gave him a slow and lazy grin. "You finish when I say you finish." And Stede very nearly died a thousand deaths as Ed stroked his tongue across the wet shiny tip, licking it like he had licked the dessert spoons, so pink and greedy.
"But I was– I thought–"
"Nah." A bristly kiss was pressed to the scar on Stede's belly from the first day they met. "You've got a lot to learn."
And then his mouth went down again, sucking as if to pull the very marrow from Stede's bones, sucking, licking, making low thrumming sounds in his throat that damn near shook Stede to his bones, his hips shivering helplessly, only the press of Ed's hands holding him in place.
"Please," he gasped, "oh fuck, please."
Ed chuckled – oh better and worse at once – and swallowed.
"FUCK!" Stede had a hand halfway to Ed's hair, halfway, but no – no no no can't. Can't wrong. Follow the–
And Ed caught his hand, caught it in his. See? Silly. Nonsense. Wrong. Put it back where–
Instead Ed drew it to his own hair. How- how did he know? How could he?
Then the bastard sucked again and Stede howled, tugged Ed's hair, thick and dark and silk in his fingers, one foot thrashing.
"Oh God!" he moaned, heels scudding against the edge of the rug, fingers tangled up and oh the heated swell of Ed's ribs against his thighs, the suck and lick and wet and heat and squeeze was – his head – every thought had – all gone. Wind and nothing and hot and heart in his ears thump thump thump and if he didn't – if they went on longer – explode. He'd explode. Gunpowder and silk all over. "Jesus, Mary, Joseph, all the bloody saints in the bloody calendar!"
Ed lifted his head, the bastard. Lifted it, laughed, lips all shiny and dripping with spit. "All those names and not one of them mine." He moved his thumb, stroking in a way Stede had never ever managed with his own two hands, making him keen, kicking uselessly at thin air. "You know my name, Stede."
Knocking his head back against the back of the chair, panting, Stede tried to glower. Tried. Failed. Turned out a bit of the old brain was still working. Other hand had pulled itself off the arm of the chair and fingers were putting themselves in Ed's mouth. Just like that. Like he could. Like like like…
Ed met his eyes and sucked them too and caught them between his teeth, growled, fuck fuck fuck-
"Ed, fuck, please!" Tugged his hair, pulled, pushed, pleaded.
Pushing his tongue between two fingers, Ed grinned and let go. "You're getting the hang of this," he said and then his mouth was on and his hand was off and he swallowed and Stede's whole body jolted, going off like a bloody firework, harder than he ever had in his life, fingers in Ed's hair, his- his- his cock in Ed's mouth wet and hot and sucked and sucked and sucked and–
Words didn't.
They just. Elsewhere. For a while.
Came back when he was jelly-limbed and slumped in the chair. Watching Ed lick him clean. Watched Ed prop his arm on Stede's own limp thigh, cupping his chin in his hand. Watched him grinning like a cat with all the cream and all the canaries.
"Fuck," Stede croaked. "Fuck."
"You know you kicked your shoe across the room, right?"
Oh. Yes. So he had. Stockinged feet now. Not really important. Fingers were still in Ed's hair though, which was good, so he tugged. Tugged a little more when the words were still buggered off across the room with the shoe. Tugged until Ed took the hint and rose up on his knees and Stede tipped himself forward, pressing their mouths together, trying to do that lick-suck-mouth thing.
Salt with the rum and marmalade now and Ed rose up, over him, pressing him back into the chair, until his knees slid in tight on either side of Stede's legs, bracketing his hips, and their mouths were open and messy and wet and tasting of each other.
When they broke apart – Stede forgot to breathe. Critical error. Learn for next time – Ed knocked their foreheads together, his hands braced on the back of the chair. Stede… let his hand slide down from Ed's hair. Just one. Spread on his back. Rise and fall of his ribs, warm and steady and here.
"Can… can I?" he asked tentatively. He hadn't before, after all. Hadn't – didn't know quite how things – how did one offer pleasure?
Ed's eyes glinted. "Look down," he murmured, nudging the tip of Stede's nose with his own, then drew back just a little.
Stede stared at him, then down and there went his heart, lolloping away again at the sight of Ed's manhood, already freed from his breeches, hard and upright, longer and thinner than Stede's own. "Oh," he breathed. "Just from–"
"Just from," Ed agreed, dropping one hand to stroke himself. "I want to finish on you."
Stede made a tin-whistle sound. "O-on me?"
Ed nodded, stroking long and slow and Christ, that was certainly… awakening things again. "Your chest," he said, his voice thicker and lower. "So soft and clean. Like no one's made a mess of it before. I want to make a mess of it."
There went the bloody words again. Save one. "O-okay."
Ed's face lit up. "Pull your shirt up," he ordered.
Stede's hands shook, as he drew them free, as he fumbled his shirt, tugged, pulled, moved it out the way, eyes wide and hungry. And Ed was – he – his hips were moving, thrusting into his hand, stroking himself, his arse rubbing over and over on Stede's thighs and Stede wanted–
Stede wanted and Stede could and did and reached out and wrapped his hand around Ed's, other hand on his hip, pulling up his knees, pressing his feet flat to the floor, letting Ed ride and rock and their fingers were wet with the drips and dribbles and the silk breeches would be ruined but fuck, let him ruin them. Let him do whatever he wanted to them.
"On the silk," he breathed, watching Ed's eyes go dark and liquid, and their hands moved together, squeezed and ruined both Stede's bare chest and spilled over onto the blue silk breeches, soaking into them in perfectly lovely stains.
Breathing hard, Ed sank to sit on Stede's thighs, dropping his hand to splay wet and sticky across Stede's belly. "Fuck," he breathed, pressing his seed into the softness and scars, marking them with his fingertips and himself. "Fuck."
Stede nodded wordlessly, his hands limp on Ed's legs, muscled and lean and so strong. "Is…" He hesitated, cautiously squeezed Ed's thigh. "Is that normal?" Realising how it might sound, he hastily added, "For it to be like that? I mean, that was – I've never had – it's… Jesus Christ."
Ed gave a shout of laughter and crowded him back against the back of the chair, mouth hot and wet and greedy again, making Stede's hands grab and pull and squeeze of their own accord. Like he could take and have and be had and be taken. Both of them on the same page, as it were. Licking, biting, fingers on bare skin, teeth and hands and… and cocks.
"Yeah," Ed finally said, sitting back, grinning all over his face, lips swollen in a way that made Stede's ungentlemanly parts want all kinds of things. Mostly to be between them again. "This is what it's like when you actually want to do it. Not when you have to."
At once, a great number of things made a great deal of sense.
"Oh," Stede breathed, sliding his hands up to squeeze Ed's narrow hips. "No wonder they make such a fuss of lust in the Bible, if this is what they're basing it on." His fingertips tracked around the waist of Ed's leather breeches, but he hesitated. What were the rules in this case? Did they have rules?
As if he could read Stede's mind, Ed chuckled. "I just sucked your cock. I think you're okay to touch my arse."
Stede made a face at him. "I was trying to be a gentleman," he grumbled, but all the same slid both hands down and squeezed Ed's arse through those tantalisingly tight breeches. "Oh Heavens."
Ed swooped forward and, with hot breath and sharp teeth, nipped Stede's earlobe. "You're also a pirate," he growled, reaching back to cover one of Stede's hands on his backside, squeezing. "Act like one."
And as he slid the tip of his tongue into Stede's ear, making his inside squirm and his accoutrements jump back to attention, Stede decided that was bloody good advice and stuck his hand down the back of Ed's trousers and squeezed.
"Good, Captain," Ed breathed.
That did something. Hot and swoopy and thrilling. Stede swallowed hard, hand trembling where it was. "Gosh."
Ed sat back again, laughter lines thick and fast around his eyes. "Fuck me, you're brilliant."
A blush bloomed across Stede's face – ridiculous, really, given they were both exposed and he had his hand down the man's breeches – and he couldn't help beaming. "You think so?"
Ed leaned forward, tipping up his chin with a fingertip, and kissed him warmly on the lips. "I do, you filthy bugger."
In all his life, Stede couldn't think of a single time he had received higher praise. Or felt it warm him to his toes as it did. Mutely, he withdrew his hand from Ed's clothes to pull him closer, pressing his cheek into the other man's neck, the sweat and leather and salt of him familiar and lovely and perfect.
"Thank you," he whispered.
As Ed's fingers threaded through his hair again, his "bugger off, you sap" was sweeter than any romantic poem or loving vow.
Afterword
End Notes
So I mainlined the entirety of this show in less than 12 hours and now, this is what has happened. Straight into my brain when I was trying to go to sleep. I am doomed.
I'm also very much of the opinion that Stede had zero interest in the Marital Obligations beyond Heir, given they only have two kids and the younger one is the Necessary Boy. Him finding out that actually, you know, sex can be good fun is a late lesson.
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