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The house lights flash on and Stede blinks, dazzled by the sudden brightness in the smoky pub. The safety of the darkness and the closeness it allowed are instantly lost, the silhouette he’d been dancing with becoming the very real and tangible and platonic form of his friend, Ed. The pair awkwardly step apart, the magic of the moment gone, but none of the ease between them is lost. Ed offers him a smirk and his elbow, and Stede takes the proffered arm. He leads them both out of the bar, amongst the swathes of punters all jostling toward the exit. They stumble into the foot traffic on the street, the tide of drunks and revellers dragging the pair to the corner and sweeping on further down the street. Stede watches with a sense of pride as the mishmash of people pass by: a posse of clubbers in neon; a pair of old guys in chaps; and, tailing them all, a gaggle of drag queens in towering wigs and tottering heels. He never thought he'd find a community. Never thought he'd get to be himself, let alone want to. A closet-case of the 70s and 80s, he’d heard only of fear and loss and hate. But here in 1996 on Oxford Street, Sydney's queer capital, Stede feels at home.
Ed claps an arm around him, leaning into his side. “Your place or mine?”
The heat of Ed’s mouth at his ear is thrilling- unnecessary on the open street, but a continuation of the closeness they’d needed to be heard at the pub. The words bounce around Stede’s brain. His friend’s intimacy is making it harder to squash the persistent thought of not only taking Ed home, but to bed as well.
Realistically, they should part ways. It’s only a ten minute cab ride to Ed’s penthouse in King’s Cross, and just a smidge longer to Stede’s villa in Bondi.
“Well?” Ed tugs his elbow, his other arm raised and waving toward the passing taxis.
Stede struggles to answer, mind racing with those innermost desires threatening to reveal themselves. He admonishes himself. Ed’s not inviting him for those reasons- it’s just cordiality in the business world, networking! Besides, Ed’s not just any businessman; he’s Blackbeard, a bonafide local legend!
“I mean…” Stede steels himself, rolling his shoulders back, though certainly not letting Ed’s elbow go. “I don’t expect you to put up with me all night, Ed. I’m sure you have people to see, things to do!”
Stede tries to sound cheerful, desperately hoping Ed does not rescind his offer, that he definitely does not have other people to see and things (people!) to do lined up.
He knows that Ed's various business affairs must be hard work, what with the assorted pubs and clubs and Lord knows what else he owns in the Cross. Stede supposes that as the face of the Blackbeard empire, Ed must have to make appearances here and there, loom threateningly, something like that. Stede had recently become a business owner himself, buying a charming little cafe after the divorce. (Personally, he doesn’t think there’s much to it; the staff already know what they’re doing and he only shows up when he feels like brunch or one of those scrummy cappuccinos. Ed really ought to hire some staff to manage the trite stuff for him.)
“Nah mate,” Ed says, tugging him toward a slowing cab. “I reckon you promised me a fancy brekkie, shopping, ‘n all that gentlemanly shit tomorrow.” The smile he tosses Stede is genuine and seems almost hopeful.
“I suppose I did.” Stede grins, that flurry of delight in his chest returning.
They end up at King’s Cross, snacking on churros beneath the giant neon Coke sign. Stede nibbles on the Spanish treat, enjoying it, but distracted by watching Ed suck melted chocolate from his fingers. The man glows: hair like spun starlight, brown skin glittering where neon light hits perspiration. Stede’s gaze follows the glowing stripes down his chest, sweeping the ink made iridescent beneath Ed’s loose tank-top. Light pools in the dips of his tight leather skirt, slipping down his torn stockings and adorning his shining boots.
Ed makes an enquiring noise and Stede straightens, meeting his stare. His deep brown pupils flash red beneath the neon sign. Stede thinks immediately of a cartoon character with two huge hearts for eyes.
His own heart thuds at the thought of it.
“You still with me, mate?”
Stede blinks. Ed's watching him expectantly.
“Yes?” Stede chances.
Ed chuckles, shrugging his leather jacket on before offering his elbow once again to Stede.
~~~
Stede makes himself comfortable on the enormous sofa, admiring the eclectic decor around him. There’s antique furniture and gothic candelabras and exotic furs, shelves of knick-knacks and trinkets, and a huge art piece that looks like graffiti- how avant garde! A huge window overlooks the city, the bay framed in the centre.
Stede watches as Ed lingers beside the sofa, slipping out of his jacket and toying with the toggles. “Y’know, mate, you could just…” his gaze flicks to the right, toward the end of the hall where the master suite is.
“Yes, Ed?” Stede blinks up at him, desperately hoping Ed hasn’t changed his mind and is actually suggesting he leaves.
Ed seems to swallow the rest of the words, ducking his chin. He fidgets with one of the many pins on his jacket, not looking at Stede. “Yeah, well, night then, mate.” He drops the jacket to the arm of the sofa, offering a rushed wave before leaving the room.
“Nighty night,” Stede manages.
Ed hits the light switch as he passes, the room dimming. There's usually a comfort in the blue city lighting, that perpetual twilight, but Stede holds his breath as he stares ahead. He wills Ed to turn back, to throw one of those warm smiles over his shoulder.
Ed does not look back; Stede exhales. His gaze drops from the empty doorway to the resting jacket. It really is a fine thing. He reaches out to touch it and Stede swears he can still feel the man's warmth in the leather.
Guiltily, he snatches his hand back, quickly busying himself with his own garments. He toes out of his shoes, nudging them together neatly, and strips off his suit, leaving just his briefs and t-shirt on. It’s a somewhat shameless rip-off of the outfit Dicaprio’s character wears in Romeo + Juliet, a blue suit he’d had tailored to mimic the Prada custom in the film. He even has a floral silk tie to match the ensemble, but he’d forgone a button up shirt tonight and opted for a casual white tee instead. Stede does his best to ignore the notion of the suit being worn for the wedding scene in the film, and the fact that he’s finally staying over at Ed’s.
The plush sofa had opened out into a ready-made bed and Stede smooths the comforter absentmindedly. He’s here as a friend, he reminds himself. Nothing more.
Stede’s focus returns to his linen suit and he folds it quickly, placing the pieces onto the coffee table. As he turns back to the sofa, Stede stops to stare at Ed’s jacket again. Maybe he should hang it up- it surely isn't good for the leather to be scrunched like that. As much as he knows about fine silks and cashmeres, Stede isn't familiar with this fabric beyond a thorough boot polish. He reaches for it, tracing over studs and pins and patches, imagining the stories they tell. He pictures the place Ed's bare arm would extend from the cut sleeve, the ink there continuing the story.
Stede runs the palm of his hand over the leather, imagining the heat of Ed's body beneath it, the pounding of his heartbeat and the quickening of his breath.
Casting a quick glance to the doorway, Stede makes a hasty decision. He doesn’t hang the jacket, doesn’t fold it either. With both guilt and giddy excitement, Stede hugs the jacket against himself as he slips beneath the blanket.
He moves with reverence as he lifts the leather to his cheek. It's so soft.
It smells just like Ed. Warm and rich, there's smoke and musk, but something sweeter too. Stede pulls the jacket closer, taking a deeper whiff; his heartbeat skips and his cock jumps as the notes hit the back of his throat. He imagines his nose pressed to Ed’s neck- skin burning, hair plastered to sweat-sticky skin. Imagines his mouth against Ed’s chest, tongue flat against wiry hair, teeth nipping. Imagines his lips pressed between Ed's shoulder blades, their bodies curled together.
Stede's hand finds his stiff prick on instinct, palming himself through his underwear. He’s just tipsy enough to let his guard down, to indulge himself, but the shame of it lingers, him flaunting Ed’s trust like this; a chill needling the intoxicating heat of the scent.
Still, Stede doesn’t stop. He shucks off his tee, desperate to feel the leather against his skin. He drags the jacket over him, zips and ornaments catching and caressing his chest. Stede shimmies his briefs low on his hips, freeing his desperate hard-on. He works himself roughly, picturing Ed’s hand, Ed's body draped over his, rocking into him, hair falling over his shoulders, Stede’s legs clamped around his waist as his hips buck.
The sad part is, he's never even fucked a guy before. Stede’s not a total newbie- has fooled around a bit, gotten sucked off in club bathrooms. But his fantasy now is based only on porn and how it felt the times he’d used his own fingers. He imagines Ed finding him like this, ripping the blanket off and slipping down between Stede’s thighs. Ed blowing him as his fingers tease his rim. The feeling of him pressing in, the stretch and burn of it.
The thought of Ed’s actual reaction flashes in Stede’s mind; disgust, horror, anger.
Their friendship is only new, and Stede should be grateful enough just having a friend. From a chance meeting at Stede’s cafe, to nights out on the town! Stede delights in showing Ed the finer ways of living while Ed, with his Blackbeard empire, gives him pointers on the hospitality game. And the bonus is, Stede couldn’t have dreamed of a friend to introduce him to the gay night scene, let alone a wingman as wonderful as Ed!
He knows it's selfish- and not to mention reckless- but this may be the closest he ever gets to being with Ed. Of having those tattooed arms around him, the soft drag of Ed’s skin. The rasp of Ed's short beard against his face, the tickle of those long locks as their bodies move together.
Stede's so close to coming, just thinking about how it would feel to have Ed inside him. It's filthy, but he wants to stick fingers inside himself- to mimic those lewd fantasies, here, with Ed's jacket in his grasp, the sensations of leather against his skin, each gasping breath so dense with the scent of Ed. But he doesn’t have time. Already he's tensing, toes curling and gut tight as he comes. He squashes his face into the jacket to suppress his whine, hips bucking as he milks his cock from root to tip.
Somewhat shamefully, it's one of the most satisfying orgasms of Stede's life. He sinks into the plush sofa, grinning as he catches his breath. He wipes his hand on his stomach, sighing contentedly. His other hand loosens around the leather, fingers trailing leisurely over the enamel pins and embroidered patches. Cool steel and rough stitches, warm leather and… something wet.
It takes a long, blissful moment for him to realise.
He's cum all over Ed's jacket.
Stede scrambles under the blanket, arms flapping as he grabs for his discarded tee. He swipes at the leather with his shirt, the mess clearing but residue remaining.
Fuck. FUCK!
Ed can't know.
Ed can never know.
Stede jumps from the sofa, somehow remembering to tuck his flaccid prick away before flying out into the hallway, the jacket sequestered in a tight bundle under his arm. He scurries for the bathroom, trying his best not to slam the door in his haste.
Fuckfuckfuck- Ed can't find out.
Stede drops the jacket in the sink, hands shaking as he goes to twist the taps. Then he jolts, whipping the leather up before a drop can fall, horrified at himself. He's no expert, but even he knows water could ruin the leather further. Glancing around the room, still flooded with fear, Stede reaches for the cabinet above the sink, hoping desperately there's some baby wipes or cotton wool or something he can use to clean up his crime scene. Pawing through the pill packets and hair products, a little bottle is revealed. A red label, the text seeming to glow, as if the item is a gift from the gods.
MAX POWER
Leather Cleaner
⚡️⚡️⚡️
Stede could cry. He could sing! Instead, he does a clumsy little jump for joy as he grabs the bottle and a cloth.
There isn't much in the way of cleaning instructions on the label, but he supposes it isn't rocket science. He twists off the cap. It's a startling scent, so sweet it's almost sickly, like artificial fruit. He daubs a little on a face washer and rubs tentatively at the shameful stain. The cast lifts easily from the leather, but the scent is making Stede’s head spin. It's like the relief he’d expect to feel washing over him, only tenfold- a strange soaring in his chest that is typical of his time around Ed, but particularly intense right now. He staggers slightly, giggling as the tiny glass bottle clatters against the ceramic. He feels giddy and somehow horny again and utterly bubbling with delight.
Fuck, is this…? Is this how he knows he's in love?
He half expects stars and hearts to be dancing above his head as he pulls Ed's jacket against him, taking another deep breath. It's like a wave crashing overhead, his ears ringing and the world muted, heat in his cheeks and a beaming smile and it must be, it must be that he's in love and–
“Um, Stede?”
He snaps open his eyes. Ed stands in the doorway, bleary-eyed and blinking at him. He’s wearing nothing but a silky teal robe.
Arousal and ardour stir in Stede’s gut. He giggles.
“Ed! I'm- I think I–”
“The fuck are you… You alright mate?” Ed’s voice is rough with sleep. It sends another electric thrill down Stede’s spine.
“I'm in love!” Stede announces.
Ed blinks at him. His gaze flickers between the jacket and the sink. “O-kay…”
“With you,” Stede hastens to clarify. His head is still swimming and his cheeks are still burning but now it feels sharper, like he's broken through those pummelling waves. Like everything above the surface is left crystal clear and shining.
Ed's eyebrows do something complicated. He whimpers.
Then suddenly he's in front of Stede and his hands are on his cheeks and his lips are on his mouth and Stede's heart is positively soaring.
“I love you,” Ed pants, breaking from the kiss to wrap an arm around Stede's shoulder. “I love you too, Stede, I–” he pauses, drawing back slightly. “Are… are you doing poppers?”
“No, I'm cleaning–”
“My jacket..?”
“Well, you see, I- I’m... I spilt…”
Ed takes the bottle of cleaning fluid from him, waving it cheekily in front of Stede.
“You spilt this? And just what were you up to, Stede?” Ed asks, tone teasing.
“No, I-” Stede gestures to the bottle. “I was cleaning with it! It's cleaner!”
Ed giggles. “Heh, sure it is.”
“Ed!” Stede braces himself, his words barreling out all at once. “I'm-sorry-but-I-came-on-your-jacket-an–”
“You…” Ed blinks at him. “You… came on my jacket…?”
His gut drops to his feet.
The intense euphoria Stede had been feeling has instantly vanished.
“I'm sorry!” he squeaks, realising his world is about to come crashing down around him.
Ed sucks air in between his teeth.
Stede holds his breath.
“Fuck, man. That's the hottest fucking thing I've ever heard.” Ed's arms are back around him in an instant. “Why didn't you just come to bed?” Ed asks through laughter, nose bumping Stede’s as he kisses him clumsily.
“I didn't know I cou–” Stede offers, before his words are suffocated by Ed’s lips once more.
“Of course you could!” Ed pulls back, his hands either side of Stede's face and shaking him slightly. “Christ, we're fucking idiots, you out there wanking while I'm in here wanking!”
“You were…?” Stede’s brows knot. “Over me!?”
“Mmhm.” Ed's lips trace a path across his jaw, resting at his ear. “Every fucking night, man.” Ed punctuates this with a kiss to the hinge of his jaw. “Most mornings too.” Another kiss. “Some afternoons…” He pecks again.
Stede shudders, the electric thrill of Ed's words prickling across his bare flesh. That returning arousal kicks in his gut and he can't help but glance down at Ed's waist.
“Me too,” he admits, voice embarrassingly high. Stede's gaze lingers at the place Ed's silk robe is tied, his navel peeking through the gap and the woolly tops of his thighs emerging below.
He swallows, hard, before looking back up to Ed’s face. The man regards him with a wry expression.
“Wanna tell me about this now?” Ed asks, tone gentle but amused. He holds the little bottle of leather cleaner between his thumb and forefinger.
Stede feels his cheeks burning immediately, but his libido isn't flagging. Instead, his dick stirs at the reminder of the sordid incident.
“I needed it, to clean…” Stede gestures toward the jacket crumpled in the sink.
Ed’s eyebrow raises in question. “Wait.” He looks from the bottle and back to Stede again. “You actually cleaned with this?”
Stede gives a guilty nod.
“And it worked!?” Ed's laughing again.
Stede regards him with both confusion and relief.
“Mate. These are poppers,” Ed tells him.
They don't look like the kind of poppers Stede's seen at Christmas or birthday parties. He inclines his head. “...Okay?”
“Amyl?” Ed tries instead.
Stede shrugs.
“Mate, it's a drug.”
Stede guffaws, “What, no! It's clearly a cleaner, Ed-” Stede pauses, watching the way Ed's face lights up as he laughs. The man is beauty personified, the lines of his face emphasising his amusement in the most wonderful ways. “A drug…?” Stede finally repeats, too captivated to really argue.
“Well, kinda.” Ed shimmies forward, pressing his smile to Stede's. When he pulls back, his grin is somehow even brighter. “It dilates your blood vessels, which gives you a little bit of a high.” He kisses Stede again and the feeling ripples through him, electric waves running from the place their lips meet all the way to the tips of Stede's toes. “They help you relax, too,” he giggles, and places more kisses along Stede’s jaw.
The last thing Stede feels is relaxed. His body thrums with excitement, burns with anticipation; an engine idling with an itchy foot on the accelerator. There's a mellow weight over his mind, sure, a calm he's never felt before during intimacy. It makes him feel confident, certain in his desire.
“Relaxed… how?” Stede asks.
“Welllll…” Ed brushes his fingers over Stede's temple, looking almost shy as he sweeps a loose strand of hair back behind his ear. Stede shivers at the touch, skin tingling with static and heart rabbiting. “It can help with sex. Help your body- your muscles- to relax. To open.”
He watches Ed bite his lip, his pupils widening but his gaze somewhere over Stede's shoulder.
A long, silent moment, and then his eyes meet Stede's again.
Stede is suddenly resolute, all of him heated, glowing and swollen with desire. “I want you to fuck me,” he blurts.
Ed ducks his head and moans, the low rumble hot against Stede's ear. “W-we don't have to do anything tonight,” Ed says, breath quivering, lips brushing Stede's earlobe.
“Want to,” Stede tells him, reaching for the man and pulling him into a hungry caress. “I think about it all the time,” he admits, gasping against Ed’s mouth.
“Don't wanna rush you,” he says, cupping Stede's cheek and watching him expectantly. He seems to search Stede’s face.
“Fine. Then fuck me slowly,” Stede replies, adamant.
Ed barks a laugh, seemingly in disbelief. “Yeah?” His whole face is lit up, deep eyes twinkling and smile stretched wide.
“Mhm, yeah.” Stede grins in return, hands grabbing at Ed's robe.
Ed groans again, kissing Stede roughly before spinning him out of the bathroom and into the hall. He steers the pair of them swiftly into his bedroom.
Stede barely has time to take in his surroundings, glimpsing dark antique furnishings by the lamp light, with scores of unlit pillar candles and heavy drapes right out of a gothic romance novel. He sways with their momentum, falling back onto the bed and tugging Ed down on top of him.
The way Ed kisses now is slowed, but certainly not calmed. He presses against Stede's mouth with focused intent, sucking and lapping steadily. Stede opens to him, welcoming Ed's tongue, the pair feeding each other their hungry moans and whimpers. Even in its clumsiness, the kiss is perfect; Stede feeling at once drunk on their caress and yet stone-cold-sober in his clarity.
Ed wants him.
Ed loves him.
As if he can hear his thoughts, Ed breaks apart on a sigh, rubbing his nose to Stede's. “Fuckin’ love you,” he murmurs, and Stede's heart somehow kicks up another notch, hammering and resonating with delight. Ed’s lips move for his jaw, and Stede gasps as he drags teeth over his pulse point.
“I've dreamed about this,” Ed tells him, tongue hot against his throat. His hand reaches for Stede's hair, fingers curling as he laps and nips.
Stede can't help the laughter that burbles out of him, his heart drumming, his blood singing; his body a chorus in praise of Ed's lips and Ed's hands and Ed's–
Oh fuck.
Ed’s dick.
Stede whimpers as Ed's hips meet his, their cocks meeting on a slow roll.
He’s imagined how it looks, how it feels, how it tastes. Has pictured ink unfurling down Ed's belly and the heavy cock that hangs below a thatch of dark hair. Has fantasised about the possibility of piercings, about the weight of it in his hand, the girth of it in his throat, his arse–
All too soon Ed shifts down the bed, and if Stede sobs a little at the loss of contact, Ed graciously only giggles a little too. Settling between Stede's thighs, Ed busies himself with leaving a trail of kisses down his navel as his fingertips drag over Stede's chest, pinching and tweaking at his nipples. All of him feels bright and swollen under Ed's attention. His dick somehow stirs again, his cheeks and chest aflame. Stede hopes the sucking kisses leave marks, that the quick nips bruise; tangible proof of Ed’s affection, of his lust. Sign posts marking Ed was here; X’s proving Stede is treasured.
Ed's mouth moves further down Stede's torso, teasing the tender skin of his belly, hands firm on his hips as if to keep him from bucking. It's so deliriously heady that all Stede can do is grab fistfuls of bedding, bracing himself against the blankets, as if to keep from floating away.
Then Ed relents, pulling up to look Stede over. He seems rather pleased with his handiwork, and Stede preens under the appraisal.
“Well then.” Ed retrieves the little glass bottle and holds it up. “Shall I show you the more conventional way to use this, mate?”
Stede frowns, confused. “Wait, why are you..?”
“Helps relax my throat,” Ed tells him, and winks.
Stede swallows hard, eyes going wide. That over-sweet, chemical smell hits him the moment the lid comes off. Ed holds the bottle beneath his nose, closing one nostril with a finger and then inhaling steadily. He's still for a moment, face serene as the drug seems to take effect. Stede watches a dopey grin slide across his face, Ed’s cheeks warmed with a pretty blush.
“‘s been a while,” Ed titters.
“Oh?” Stede doesn't mean to pry, and truly, there are more pertinent things at hand, but he can't help wondering.
“These days, I'm usually at the receiving end,” Ed drawls, slinking back down the bed. He parts Stede’s thighs gently, gaze trained on Stede as he ducks his head, his tongue gliding leisurely up the length of Stede's prick. It’s utterly bewitching. He reaches the tip and smirks. “S'not very Blackbeard-y to suck cock.” Ed offers a quirk of his brow before returning to his task. Stede gives a full body shudder, throwing his head back against the bed. Ed pecks light kisses all the way back down Stede's shaft, ending with a smooch to his sack.
Stede's hips buck impatiently but Ed presses him back down against the bed, a thumb stroking gently at the sensitive skin of his navel.
“Nuh-uh,” he admonishes lightly, “Slowly, remember, mate.”
Stede nods weakly, his fingers grasping at the bedding as he tries to still himself.
Then Ed wraps his lips around Stede’s cockhead and any attempt at restraint is immediately lost.
“Ed!” Stede sinks fingers into his hair as he swallows his dick, his body writhing on instinct.
A moan of encouragement rumbles through Ed’s throat and straight into Stede's core. It feels as though he’s melting inside as the sound reverberates through him, limbs tensing and twisting and sinking. Molten sugar runs through his veins, everything so hot and pliant; Ed’s mouth all-encompassing. Wet fingers find their way to Stede’s sack, stroking and squeezing, and the damp only makes his skin burn more. The inquisitive touch slips behind to trace his perineum, making Stede buck harder in encouragement. Ed draws back slowly, tongue rolling lazy circles around Stede’s swollen cockhead.
“Yeah?” he asks, voice a low rumble. His lips barely move from Stede’s prick, who feels the questions more than hears it.
“Please,” he pants. He tugs at Ed’s hair, whining and wordlessly urging him to suck harder or press deeper or just do something before Stede simply perishes on the spot.
“Kinda thought you’d be more coy,” Ed says. His face is doing one of those effortless smouldering things as he smirks and all Stede can do is pout at him. With a laugh, Ed wiggles back on the bed and Stede, somewhat embarrassingly, sobs.
He swipes at his brow, brushing back the sweat damp curls. “Kinda thought this would never happen,” he admits. He fills with more of that giddy excitement, twin flames of delight and desire aglow. Stede watches as Ed rummages through the bedside drawer, impatient for Ed’s eyes to return to his. Ed drops his provisions to the bedding and swoops on Stede, catching him in a needy kiss.
“Kinda thought the same,” he tells Stede, holding his gaze.
Stede's always found Ed hot, honestly, that's just common sense. But now, looking at the man, what he sees is sublime: Ed's brown skin now glowing bronze with the sheen of perspiration. His sprawling tattoos and shining rings. His tarnished tresses and the short beard framing his face, his cheekbones and lips and eyes.
Good god, those eyes.
They're huge, as always, but sparking with fondness. His warm irises are blown inky dark with desire. Stede feels the pull like it’s magnetic, that static of excitement rippling and sparking between them.
“Are you going to fuck me now?” The question bursts out. Stede immediately wishes he’d said something smoother.
“Mm,” Ed says, those lovely lines at the corners of his eyes deepening. “Think that could be arranged, love.”
Well. The drumming in Stede’s chest skips a beat then kicks off double-time. Love.
Love!
The sound of it fills his chest, peals through those lonely, longing parts of him. It’s almost enough, just the word and the way Ed’s looking at him, but there’s still just that one last place left aching and wanting. He needs Ed inside him.
“Should I do the–” Stede glances about the bed for the small glass bottle. Drugs, he reminds himself, giggling mischievously. I’m doing drugs and having gay sex! Wow!
“Yeah, if you wanna.” Ed passes him the bottle. “Just take it easy, mate, have a little sniff and see how you feel.”
Well, he’d felt a bit like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole last time, or like he’d swilled an entire bottle of champers. He covers one nostril and breathes through the other, as he’d seen Ed do.
The rush is instant, his brain somersaulting in his skull and skin prickling with warmth. His body, lax as it already is, wants to swoon.
“Okay?” Ed asks, peppering kisses across his shoulder.
“Yeah,” Stede breathes. “Please, Ed…” He reaches for the man, dragging him into a greedy, wet kiss. His lips tingle where they meet Ed’s. “Want you inside me,” he pleads.
Ed groans against his mouth. “Lay down on your belly for me,” he tells Stede, sweeping kisses down his neck and over his shoulder. “Wanna make you feel good.”
Stede does as he's asked, his head swimming with the motion as he rolls limply over. The dizziness eases into a fuzzy thrill as Ed kisses a path down Stede's spine, his hands running over his sides and guiding Stede to his knees. Then there's hands on his arse and he feels himself being spread open. He's never been more exposed in his life and yet he's never felt quite so safe in being seen and being touched and–
Oh! There's a wet pressure against his hole and Stede's giddy thoughts evaporate entirely. He arches into the caress and Ed moans against him, into him. Stede sinks decadently into the feeling as Ed works his entrance, feeling every flick of his tongue resonating right through to his core. The pleasure is like nothing Stede has experienced before; concentrated sensations that alternate, circular strokes and hot lashes that press inside, and the rub of Ed's short beard against his tender skin.
It's soft and hard at once, tickling laps then deep presses into him. Ed's mouth is so hot and Stede feels his skin tingle everywhere he's slicked with saliva, the point of Ed's tongue setting alight each nerve ending he passes. It's as if Stede's earlier head rush has dribbled from the back of his skull and slipped down his spine, curling its way into his crack and nestling into his core; tingling heat and dizzying pleasure, his mind sharp yet swimming. Movement behind him and a firmer pressure, wetter still. Stede keens as he realises it’s Ed's fingers breaching him, his back arching and hips canting back. It's wanton and lewd, him splayed out like this and saturated in lust. It's decadent and wonderful and Ed’s kissing up over his waist and curling his fingers and–
Oh. Oh!
Stede gasps into the bedding, grinding back against the touch. Ed's fingertips rub over that place again, the one Stede has tried to reach himself to no avail. It's a feeling of fullness, each pass sending pleasure that ripples from his pelvis and leaches through his system.
“Yeah, babe?” Ed asks, lips at Stede's shoulder, long hair tickling as he leans over Stede. “Not too much?”
“So good,” Stede assures him, twisting to meet Ed's gaze. “Please, Ed.” He stretches further to catch Ed's lips in a quick kiss before begging, “More.”
Ed makes a noise somewhere between a whimper and a growl, before returning to their ravenous caress. His fingers still before easing out slowly, and Stede can't help but sob. Ed gives a breathy little laugh, pecking Stede's pout.
“Slowly, remember, love?”
Stede tosses his head back petulantly.
“Can have another hit, if you need,” Ed adds, rolling the bottle of cleaner toward him. Stede shifts to look over his shoulder, watching as Ed tears open a condom wrapper. Sometime between swallowing his prick and eating out his arsehole, Ed's shimmied out of his silk robe. Stede probably stares, but who could blame him. He follows ink over Ed's shoulders and down his chest, skating over silvered curls that trail to his navel and fan out below. Ed's pubic hair is darkest, but shot with more of that gorgeous pewter. His cock is lovely; short and cut and thick. His shaft is flushed, veins standing rigid, his flared glans swollen and wine dark. As he watches Ed roll on the condom, want fills Stede's mouth with saliva, makes his dick leak and his chest contract. He sees his own aching desire reflected back in Ed's face; his dark eyes made huge by his dilated pupils, his lips wet and cheeks blushed, and brow furrowed in concentration and restraint.
“It'll be easier from behind,” Ed mutters, “the first time.” He busies himself arranging pillows and smoothing over bedding. Stede stares as his stiff prick bounces with the movement.
Stede takes up the poppers, shifting closer to Ed. The man curls against his back, easing the pair of them down to the pillows.
“This okay?” Ed asks, arranging them so he's spooning Stede from behind. It's more romantic, more tender, than the positions Stede had conjured so many times in his masturbatory fantasies. He'd thought of himself on all fours or kneeling. Pictured himself fucking Ed too, of course; Ed bouncing on his cock, or his ankles thrown over Stede's shoulders as he pounds him into the bed.
“Yes,” Stede tells him, grounding himself in the moment. Tugs at the strings of his mind, organising the floating thoughts. This, right now, is real, all-enveloping. This is Ed's dick dragging against the small of his back and Ed's mouth at the hinge of his jaw. This is Ed's hand braced against his chest and Ed's warm words spilling over him: just when you're ready, love, and tell me if it's too much, and you're so fuckin’ gorgeous, Stede. This is Ed's scent swathed with the chemical cocktail Stede holds beneath his nose, sharp and too sweet and saturating every crevice of his mind. His focus whooshes and whirls, like a fairground ride reeling.
Once the rush subsides he's left feeling tipsy, his blood burning beneath Ed’s bare skin and body aching to be touched, to be filled. “Please, Ed, darling,” he pleads, rocking back against the man.
Ed’s erection drags against Stede's arse, Ed's arm braced around his chest and Ed's mouth at his ear. “Breathe, love,” Ed tells him.
Stede breathes in and his lungs are filled with Ed's scent: tobacco and leather and his own signature warmth, spicy and woody, like cloves but sweeter.
Stede breathes out, and he feels himself stretch around the head of Ed's cock. It's an easy glide, his body yielding to Ed’s girth.
Both men moan, Ed stilling once fully seated.
“Okay?” Ed asks, pressing kisses to Stede's shoulder. Stede twists his neck, seeking Ed's lips as he moans an affirmative response. He urges Ed on with bucks of his hips and Ed chuckles into his mouth. “Yeah?” he teases, pulling out and easing gently back in, his movement careful and considered.
“Yeah,” Stede says, giggling, arching his back as he chases Ed's touch.
Ed's kisses move up and down his neck, over his ear and jaw. He presses into Stede with less caution, at a more natural pace. Stede moans in encouragement. One of the arms around Stede's chest drops to his waist and Ed's fingers find his dick. His body follows Ed's motions on instinct, fucking into his slicked fist and slamming himself back on Ed's thick cock. It's so much more than anything he's felt before. It's a pleasure that sizzles within him, housed in his hips and surging outward. A hot, heavy feeling, swelling even more with each of Ed's kisses and compliments and cries.
“You feel so fuckin’ good, Stede,” Ed says, voice ragged. “Can't believe you're here… you're mine.”
Mine.
The word is a sparking, heady thing. Stede feels it knock air from his chest as it nestles in his ribs. His skin burns with it, like he's been branded. Stede pulls tighter at the arm around his chest, clutching Ed's fingers in his.
“Again,” Stede whimpers, “tell me - again.”
Ed squeezes Stede's hand tighter, his other fist speeding up. “Mine,” he pants, pounding into Stede. “You're mine, love.”
With those words, Stede feels himself filled, quenched; the steady boil inside him spilling over. He comes with a wail, whole body shaking as he fills Ed's fist. His orgasm pulses through him in waves, hips shuddering and eyes rolling back in his head. The world swoons around him. Stede’s mind floats somewhere above the bed, his head swimming and ears ringing as Ed fucks him through the aftershocks. Their bodies coiling impossibly closer, curling and clasping as if singed by the heat between them. Ed's kissing and praising him all the while, his own sobs growing louder before his hips finally still. It leaves him starry-eyed just to know Ed’s come inside him, that he can share such bliss with the man he loves.
Stede doesn't know how long they lay there, limbs entwined, bodies swaddled in pleasure. He doesn't know how many times he tells Ed he loves him, or how many kisses Ed gifts him in return.
Stede knows when Ed pulls out, leaving him momentarily bereft, before enveloping him in his arms once more. He knows now how well Ed's fingers fit between his, and how their lips join with such ease.
Stede knows not only how Ed smells, but how he tastes and how he feels; how he sounds when he comes.
He knows where he'll take Ed for breakfast and which antique market they'll visit after. He knows which boutique Ed will like best and how he'll hurry them back to his place after.
Stede knows now he's loved and he knows that he's wanted.
There's so much more he knows, so much still he wants to ask, to learn, to become part of his routine.
Stede grins drowsily, sinking into the weight of Ed's embrace.
Of all the questions and hopes he has, there's one particular, pertinent query he has of Ed tomorrow.
Just how do you clean leather?