bakerstreet | smut pic prompts for days. or at least a day!

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It had started out with them admiring silk sheets and somehow Stede had fallen into bed.

Well, he supposes it isn't quite that simple - nothing between himself and Edward has been simple, and narrowing it down to just silk sheets isn't doing their situation any favours at all. It's a culmination of all the little moments they have shared, all the things that have built between them, burning through him and making him want in a way he has never wanted before in his entire life. When he looks at Edward and feels almost too much he remembers the silly romance novels of the past, the kind he read by candlelight in secret, the sort that had never seemed to much fit his reality.

He thinks he must have been reading one when his thoughts turned to Edward and he imagined himself in the place of the heroine, picturing Ed coming and playing the role of the hero, and it had felt so silly and ridiculous that Stede had shrugged it off almost immediately. It wasn't really like that, a silly romance in the middle of dancing or arranged marriages. He hadn't fallen head over heels in love with Ed and found himself desperate to win his affection.

He had simply believed in him, and that had felt like enough.

What had happened, beyond the bedsheets and the silk and all the other 'fucking mental' things Stede has on his ship, was that he had reached for Edward and Ed had reached back, their fingers touching, brushing, and Stede feeling suddenly like he wasn't able to actually breathe. The yearning he felt all suddenly had context - the jealousies, the little bites of frustration, of hurt, of want, suddenly all made sense, and he couldn't do anything more than squeeze Ed's hand and draw him a little closer, standing awkwardly and wondering about the best course of action.

(He's never done this before: never wanted, never felt this strongly, never done anything more than because he had a sense of duty to, to provide children and grandchildren and lineage - )

"It's silk," he repeats, swallowing the lump in his throat. "It feels good, if - if you wanted to -?"

Feels good.

Ed isn't generally a feels good kinda guy. More like a feels bad kinda guy. He hurts people. Scares the piss out of them. Cuts off toes, gouges out eyes, that kinda thing.

Oh, he's done other stuff too, who hasn't? But Stede's the fancy sort. Do fancy people fuck like normal people? Ed's never really thought about that but lately he's been a bit curious. Especially when Stede smiles, and he wants to kiss him.

But it wouldn't just be fucking, and it wouldn't be fancy people. Stede's fancy, but he's Stede. He's different. Special, in the way he makes Ed feel warm in his chest, filling in hollow places Ed wasn't even aware he had. So, it'll have to be different, and special somehow. Right? How?

Stede is looking at him, sort of half-hopeful, half-expectant, and he leans into it, leans closer, and he smells like that yummy lavender soap and Ed just wants to devour him -

"I want - " he starts, and it comes out kind of croaky which isn't great, so he clears his throat. His hand is on Stede's hip, because he can't not, and, "I want to make you feel good," he finally says, because that's the long and short of it. And then he kisses him, because Stede looks very kissable right now.

For quite a long part of his life Stede had not really been a man of pleasure - he had wanted to be, and had the funds to be, but the reality was that he had felt duty-bound to be at least an attempt at a decent husband. The reality was, however, that he was completely and utterly miserable and if the time he's spent with Ed has taught him nothing else it's that he is absolutely happy now. Ed has shown him a world he had ever thought possible, and he wants to drown in that.

He definitely feels out of place now, even with that self-same happiness burning through him.

Intimacy had been something he was obligated to do, but this feels like an entirely different world, something that he has been looking for his entire life, and the way that Ed looks at him lifts him up and makes him feel like he is somehow beyond anything in the world. He feels special, feels unique, feels as though he ought to be cherished, and that isn't something he has ever experienced in his life before. To have someone look at him the way that Edward is looking at him now? It's beyond imagination.

Licking his lips, he swallows a little. It's not fear, or discomfort: it's nerves. It's the want to do well, to be good enough, to show that he's worthy when he's not sure he will ever be good enough for Ed.

He coughs himself; the same need to clear his throat, to overcome the odd little lump that's developed there.

"You do make me -" The words are cut off by the kiss and Stede can't help the surprise he makes: a soft little mmph that settles, his head tilting a little to return the kiss. His hands lift up, waving idly for a moment, as if not sure where to go, before they rest on Ed's chest. Then he kisses back a little harder - because he wants Ed to feel good too, damnit.

Leaning back, he laughs softly, patting absently at Ed's collar.

"You could keep doing that. That felt good."

That’s as good an invitation as any, right? And Ed takes it, kissing Stede again, opening his mouth to him, trying not to be too rough, but wanting so much.

He knows he’s rough - everything about him is, except that little bit of him that likes soft things. Stede deserves better than Ed’s rough parts, so he tries, even as his fingers bunch in the fine fabric of Stede’s shirt and he aches with want.

They have time, though. This isn’t something quick and dirty in a dark corner to take the edge off, or just a bit of fun after a successful raid. This is Stede’s bed, in a private cabin, and if anyone wants to come barging in on the co-captains well, the fucker’ll get what’s coming to them Ed supposes. So he kisses Stede some more and tugs at that shirt, so he can run his hand over skin, soft skin, softer than his.

Stede has never been kissed like this before and it overwhelms him completely. He wouldn't mind it terribly if Ed was a little rough, or if there was something in particular that Ed wanted, but this is a more than good enough start for him to get his sea legs, as it were.

The arms that had been on his chest lift up and wrap around his neck, holding Ed close against himself as he leans up and presses into the kisses, not quite realising what Ed is after until his shirt is tugging against his trousers and then he reaches around, with one floundering hand, to try and help.

He doesn't think he does a good job at being useful, but he tries.

Leaning back a little, he tugs at his sleeves, pulling at the fabric around his wrists to try and get them off. A part of him is conscious of the fact that he's not the most athletic of pirates, but so far Ed hasn't seemed to mind much.

He wants skin - he wants Stede’s skin under his hands and he maybe mutters a fucking shirt, fuck off trying to get to it because a nice shirt is all well and good but Stede is better.

He’s so - relatively - unblemished, skin soft and well cared-for, pale even because he hasn’t spent hours baking in the sun with no shirt like most sailors and Ed finds it a fascinating contrast to himself, he barely remembers his own skin being like this.

He actually sits back a bit, running his hands over Stede’s chest, a look of concentration on his face. He traces the two scars, gently as he can, then meanders up, into the smattering of golden hair on his chest. Runs a blunt finger over a nipple, experimentally, all the while glancing at Stede’s face.

It's probably a good thing that Stede has a good set of these shirts tucked away in his wardrobe because he's half tempted to literally rip the darn thing off and be done with it if it means that he gets Ed's hands on him.

Those hands are calloused, far different from his own, tracing over the skin of the man who had been a touch more lordly in his past life, so to speak, than anyone else here on the ship. Stede knows his skin is as soft to the touch as his clothing and there's a little bit of shame in that, knowing that he's not really as rugged as other pirates, but Ed doesn't seem to mind.

From his reaction, Ed is very happy, and that brings a thread of relief along Stede's spine. The gentle scratch of finger against his nipple has him jumping, a small gasp dropping from his mouth, and he swallows and reaches out to let his own hand touch at the fabric still covering Ed.

"You too. Please?" Which sounds vaguely pathetic, but he hasn't the heart to care.

“Oh, right, sure,” Ed hears himself say, because the only thing better than being able to touch Stede all over might be the thought of Stede touching him. He’s moving, straddling Stede to get closer as he fumbles with buckles and straps and then his undershirt and -

Ed has never been especially self-conscious before, but he’s never wanted anyone to see him and like him the way he wants Stede to. His skin is much darker than Stede’s, he’s got so many scars, so much ink, even the hair on his chest is wiry and rough to the touch (and going as salt-and-pepper as the hair on his head).

Ed pushes the awkwardness away in favor of kissing him again, hands cupping Stede’s face.

There are so many straps and buttons and just parts when it comes to Ed's clothes, the layers and layers he's built up almost as a physical manifestation of his defences, and Stede watches it all come away with an awed gaze. To be able to see this man vulnerable, to be able to reach out and touch him - Ed might not see it that way (probably doesn't, Stede is the 'gentleman' of the two of them) but Stede feels it all the same, the momentum of the seconds ticking by.

For all that Ed might worry Stede has no concerns or qualms about reaching out and letting his fingers trace over the shape of his chest, only distracted by that wonderful mouth suddenly being on his again. He tilts up into the kiss, leaning into the touch of hand to cheek, and lets his hands trace down to feel instead of look.

There are scars, yes, and Stede knows he's caused at least one of those little wounds himself, but there's strength, too, and warm skin, and it's delicious. His nails scrape a little without thinking over the side of Ed's waist and he breathes out into the kiss, his eyes half-closed as one arm wraps around Ed's waist, keeping him in place.

Kissing him again, Stede swallows before he pauses to speak.

"You're beautiful."

A small part of Ed thinks that’s the wrong thing to say. He’s motherfuckin’ Blackbeard, right, he’s the terror of the high seas, a devil in human form, the most badass pirate in history, a little bit monstrous probably, and definitely not beautiful.

No one has ever called him that before, that’s for sure. He never wanted anyone to call him that, until now apparently, because the way Stede says it, it sounds so sweet and so right but he doesn’t begin to know how to react to it. There’s heat in his cheeks and his chest feels kinda tight, and he almost can’t breathe and he definitely can’t find words to respond to it.

So he just kisses him again, now trailing his mouth down Stede’s neck, and nope, still not sure what to say, except what comes out of his mouth against Stede’s shoulder, then his collar bones.

“Wanna kiss you all over,” he mutters, which is what he’s already doing so he hopes Stede’s all right with that.

The words slip out before Stede can consider them, as they often do when he's in the heat of the moment, but he doesn't think he's ever meant them as genuinely as he means these. Ed is beautiful to him, in every sense of the world, a beauty that might not be the norm to others but is remarkable to him.

It's something he cannot simply ignore, and he wants to cherish it - for as long as he is allowed to.

While he wants to respond, to give back something in return for the way he is being taken care of, being cherished, he falters in the wake of Edward's attention, the way his hands move the the brush of lips over his skin. Stede swallows, tilting his head a little to try to watch.

"I think," and his voice is a touch hoarse, "you could do anything you wished with me."

"That's a lot," Ed murmurs, mapping Stede's skin with his mouth and his fingers. If he's got a goal in mind, it's not apparent for a bit, at least not until his hand ghosts over the front of Stede's breeches, once, twice, just firm enough to trace his outline through fine fabric.

"You trust me like that?" he hears himself ask. He's trusted with leadership, with strategy, with evading authorities, with violence - but with pleasure? With Stede's pleasure? Is he the right kind of person for that?

"Yeah, of course I do," it comes out without a second thought, because Stede does trust him. Thus far Ed has given him no reason to think otherwise and every reason to believe in him, standing at his side, sharing his past, his secrets - even being honest about Izzy Hands wanting him to be killed. It feels as though he has known Edward for longer than they've been in one another's company and it thrills him to think that he might be trusted, wanted, cherished in return.

His hips jerk forward, just a little, and he swallows, a strange little lump in his throat before he breathes out and shakes his head, leaning back and mustering all the gentle honesty that he can bring.

"I want this with you. I want this with only you, Ed. Does that make sense?"

Ed finds himself nodding. "Yeah, it does," he murmurs. Because it echoes his own feelings. He's never really been a commitment kinda guy, but everything with Stede is different. Stede might have the words for such things, but Ed's not as great with them. He's got actions, instead, so maybe he can show Stede how he feels.

He goes for the buttons, more than he's used to dealing with but he wants Stede totally naked - this isn't a quickie in a corner, this is - something else. So it's worth it to tug the fancy breeches off completely, even if they'll get wrinkly tossed on the floor - it lets Ed run his hands over strong, pale thighs, over his hips, drink in the sight of his cock before taking him in his mouth with a delighted groan.

There's an overwhelming relief that comes from Ed understanding him, as he always does. Yes, of course, the the constant reminder that what he is doing as captain is on the edge of the completely insane. The fact that Ed seems to recognise his faulting hesitation for what it is - lack of confidence, not uncertainty - makes him feel less worried about what is going to happen as they continue.

A small part of him watches as his trousers end up in a pile on the floor, wanting nothing more than to go over and fold them properly, especially given the expense of the fabric, but that disappears from his mind as soon as there are lips wrapped around his cock. Nothing matters after that, and Stede groans, a low noise in his throat, as his hands twitch absently.

"Oh, my God, Ed, what -"

Ed belatedly wonders if Stede’s ever had his cock sucked before. It doesn’t matter, really, only that if this is his first time, well. All the more reason for Ed to make it really fucking good, right? Right.

Usually, when he does this, it’s a pretty standard reciprocity thing - a mutual scratching of an itch, not necessarily because he enjoys the act itself. But Ed finds he definitely wants to do this for Stede. He wants Stede’s taste on his tongue, he wants to draw out noises from him - want him to lose his words, for once, forget his own fuckin’ name because of Ed. He wants Stede’s fingers in his -

Wrapping his hand around the base of Stede’s cock, he pulls back just a bit, tongue teasing the crown. “My hair,” he mutters, glancing at Stede’s face. “Put your hands in my hair.” They’re just sort of twitching awkwardly at his sides now and there are much better things he could be doing with them, as far as Ed is concerned.

Without having a proper discussion they're working on assumptions, and any previous experience Stede has had when it comes to sex feels like poor form compared to the simple moment that they're sharing now. It's wouldn't be unkind to say that before he hadn't much concerned himself with the notion, but now? He was very concerned indeed.

It takes time for the words to properly register, his brain not working at full capacity, but as soon as he twigs what Ed is asking of him Stede's hands move up, one sinking into the other man's hair, holding gently. He has no pressing desire to force any more than he is being given, but he does like the way the hair feels against his fingers, the slight tug of it when Ed moves his head to - continue.

Stede swallows the noise that comes out of his mouth, breathing in slow and deep before he forces himself to calm down and relax. No need to make a fool of himself just yet.

"Just like this, yes?"

Ed makes a sound in the affirmative, his mouth already back on Stede’s cock. Christ, he wants this - Stede could pull his hair, fuck his mouth roughly and Ed would happily oblige but somehow he doesn’t think he will. Somehow, inexplicably, Stede seems to think Ed is deserving of care, of gentle caresses and soft looks, soft words, soft touches. All those things Ed has known he’s not made for, but that part of him secretly wants.

It makes Ed want to give him everything.

But what he can at least do is this - take him deep in his mouth, bob his head, trace his tongue from root to tip to learn where Stede is most sensitive, figure out his best noises. Commit them all to memory.

There is no way that Stede could ever deliberately treat Ed poorly, and it shows in the gently way he keeps touching him, fingers stroking through his hair even as Ed keeps going. It’s soft and tender, because he wants Ed to realise all the things he does deserve. He deserves love, and cherishing, and to feel as though he’s worth something.

Stede has seen enough of his tears to want to make sure they never have reason to come again.

It’s entirely impossible not to get lost in the pleasure, however, to not lose himself in the feeling of a warm mouth and press of tongue. Yes, he might have nosed a few books that made reference to this, but the reality is vastly different and it shows in the soft noises he makes. There’s a little bit of shame in how close he feels already, but he tries not to feel too terrible.

“Ed- you- I’d like to…?”

Keep treating him like this, he might cry again - for a better reason this time. That’d be fuckin’ embarrassing, but maybe not as much with Stede, who’s seen him at his worst and still accepts him, is still here.

He lifts his eyes to Stede’s, but doesn’t stop. He’s not going to stop - he takes him deeper, even, as deep as he can, relaxing his throat around him, fingers gripping at his hips like he never wants to let go.

If he was struggling with his composure before he’s absolutely lost it now - the way Ed is looking at him, head tilted, with a cock in his mouth and hands in his hair? There’s no way for Stede to maintain any kind of control of measure of himself, overrun by the sheer weight of pleasure and the knowledge that this is theirs, that no one can take it from them.

He’s not really sure on protocol, the right way of doing things between two men, but Ed doesn’t seem too fussed about letting go or pulling away. Stede does try again, giving a little tug at his hair, feeling mortified and embarrassed and a thousand other silly things, but most of all he feels nothing but a desperate affection, a bubbling feeling of love. He wants Ed to do what he wants, not what’s expected, so he warns as best he can before his head tilts back and his hands shake and he comes with a soft, oddly pitched noise.

Fuck, there it is - not just the taste of him, which is fine enough, but the look on his face, the sound he makes, the way he trembles under Ed’s mouth and hands - that’s what Ed wants. His own cock, already half-hard in his trousers, twitches in response, and he swallows Stede down with a groan of delight.

He doesn’t release Stede’s cock until he’s finished, until he’s softening in Ed’s mouth, and even then he presses lazy, easy kisses to it, to his hips, up his belly. No rush, is there? His own arousal is still coiling tight in his belly but that’s just fine - nice, great even. So long as he can keep touching Stede, he’s great.

It’s overwhelming to say the least, to keep his lidded eyes on Ed and watch the way he reacts, takes it all and seems to love it. Stede has never felt so appreciated, so cared for, so wanted, and it makes his heart feel like it might simply implode from the sheer amount of happiness he is feeling. Maybe it’s a little silly, to offer up his trust like this, to be so contented with whatever much or little Ed might be willing to give, but in truth he’s never wanted to give and be given like this in his life.

Leaning back, Stede takes long, slow breaths, calming his racing heart before he gets distracted all over again.

“Come here.” He tugs on Ed’s hair gently, enough to make his point, and tries to muster something in his expression that might be attractive. “I want to kiss you again.” And then do more than just that, but one must start somewhere.

It's not as if he has to try to be attractive. Ed's own look is happy, open, unguarded, albeit perhaps with a hint of mischief - self-satisfaction, as he slides back up to meet Stede's lips for that kiss. And another.

"I like that," he murmurs between kisses. "When you tell me what you want." Because that makes it easy for Ed to just give it to him - and it's sexy. "All good?" he adds, just to check.

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