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The tavern is right in the center of town but it's only one story, and bordered on three sides by larger edifices including a church, of all things. The flat roof sinks into the shadows untouched by streetlamp or moonlight and carriages go right by it without a second glance. "This one here," Ed points, and Stede musters his optimism and good faith and pushes the little wooden door on its wrought iron hinges. The bar inside is so dimly lit that Stede hesitates, needing his eyes to adjust. "Keep moving," Ed growls.
"I'm going," Stede hisses. Perhaps Ed is concerned that the Gentleman Pirate is going to call attention to himself, and those concerns do have some merit. What Ed doesn't know is that Lucius gave Stede some tips about navigating a place like this, and Stede has come to trust Lucius ever since his most admirable reconcilliation with the man who nearly murdered him.
"Wear thin, loose clothing," Lucius had said. "Simple. Easy to remove. Preferably cheap and weathered. Do they have a call sign?" A tulip on the wrist, Edward had said. "Wear it prominently and bring an extra in case you lose it. And for Christ's sake, use a barrier of some kind."
Even Ed had needed Lucius to explain that bit. Frenchie knew more about it than anyone else. Stede is holding a pouch with them now--the condums, as they were called in the villages--and with the extra tulip. He doesn't have cash because apparently that's not needed. "And not recommended, with this crowd," Ed had said.
Whoever built the little dive knew his way around wood, to be sure. Stede's eyes adjust and there isn't much else to see. A dirty, faded rug, and a pile of smaller rugs in the corner. Some mismatched chairs. A bar with one person sitting and drinking, and no barkeep. The only really impressive sights are the rather hulking, tattooed muscle-man in the corner, guarding the doors, and a painting on one wall that manages to brighten in the dim. It seems to be some sort of giant squid making friends with a nude woman in a sinful manner.
Stede approaches the thug. "Admission for two, please, my good man," he declares. Ed winces. Stede holds up the tulip, and the staffer's gaze goes from his face to the flower, to Ed's face.
He makes a little nod. "Carpets?" he asks. His voice is husky and reminds Stede of Jim in a way that invites a second look. The beard might be fake, but surely those broad shoulders and muscled arms--
"Nah mate, we're for the other side," Ed answers.
"Door on the left," says the doorperson, in a voice that is clearly feminine.
"Thanks," Ed nods, and Stede has the overwhelming urge to tip.
"Are you sure we don't have to...?"
"Remember when we were doing manners, and you said, 'it's impolite to tip the proprietor?' Come on." Ed pulls Stede through the door on the left before Stede can ask further questions about how one becomes a propreitor at such a place. Ed had said something about a friend, a Marquesa, being a patron of ... whatever this is. He'll ask more later.
The door goes into a cubby of a room, not unlike a cabin on a ship, with a long bench facing the north wall and a gas lamp hanging overhead. The wall on the right has a series of little sliding doors, little panels, in descending order of size and height. It smells of wood, and booze, and some kind of exotic spice that may be hiding the smell of bodies.
"There you have it," Ed says, making a sweeping gesture. He pats Stede on the arm and seats himself on the bench, resting his knee. "You can pick if you want to stand, or kneel. I usually stand."
"I just--open the little door, here?"
"Yeah, pick a door," Ed says. The sound of voices can be heard, muffled, from the other room, but Stede cannot discern their words, or even their language.
"Oh, my." Stede had imagined this as the part of the story that would fade to black, where the rugged adventurer would have his way (obfuscated by a delightful series of colorful metaphors and euphemisms) and then they'd go off laughing into the night. Something about this is so much duller, and sort of sad. Disappointing.
"Come on man, get out of your head. Just relax," Edward urges him. Edward certainly looks relaxed. His blouse hangs open at the neck just a little, just a hair too loose. He looks so handsome without the beard, but still intimidating when he gets that look in his eye.
It hardens Stede's resolve, among other things. He reaches for the little door that seems around the right height. There's a convenient wooden knob, and as Stede lays a finger on it, he decides his own wooden knob should be out, first, and encased in the condum thing. Just in case.
"Do you want help?" Edward offers, and underneath the playful tone is something hungry. He sincerely would help. He would walk them both out the door and fuck raw in an alleyway, Stede knows, because they've done it before.
"I've got it," Stede assures him, and he does. He finally pulls back the door and positions himself accordingly. Not knowing where to rest his hands, he keeps one on his cock and rests one on the wall to steady himself.
There is an awkward pause, then he feels it. A mouth. He exhales in a rush as the warm hole encloses his cock and begins to suck, right over the chinese lambskin. There's a tongue, and it occurs to Stede that he doesn't know if it belongs to a man or a woman. Lucius had warned him that might be the case. The mouth-haver hums and that does nothing to clarify their identity except send a shiver down Stede's spine.
Stede's disappointment drains out of him. Certainly something about this is thrilling. Someone wants him--enough to do that--without even knowing anything about him. Stede has, in his darkest moments, visited with the idea that perhaps Ed only wants him because of his novel approach to piracy, his quick wit, and his elaborate ship. It's more difficult to imagine that anyone could want him for his body, especially this particular body part.
The friction becomes rhythmic as Stede sorts out his emotions. The mouth is sucking on the head of his cock eagerly, as if hoping to taste it through the barrier. Stede looks over at Ed and he's watching, rapt, pupils blown. The front of his trousers makes it very clear what he thinks of the proceedings. "That's it," he urges, soft and with a dark smile. "A little mystery never hurt, did it? Could be anyone over there. Could be Izzy," he muses.
"Oh! Does he...? Here...?" Stede's blood is pumping a little too hard to sort out thoughts about that.
"Nah, not here. He doesn't know about this place. But he's been to places like this, on the other end of it."
Such a revelation should probably be repulsive to Stede, but it isn't. He finds himself rocking his hips into the mouth of the stranger, repositioning both hands on the wall to get better leverage. It surely isn't the thought of Izzy Hands sucking dick that's making it feel so good, but the skill of the stranger. That's surely it.
Stede's eyes fall shut as he lets out a moan. The stranger is using their hands now--large, calloused hands by the feel of it, almost certainly male, though after the encounter with the doorman Stede doesn't want to assume. Any pretense of dignity is gone as Stede fucks the wall, desperate and animal and getting close to climax.
"Like that, do you?" Ed's voice is the first thing that alerts Stede that his lover is nearby. Behind him, in fact, and running a hand up Stede's back and over the curve of his buttocks with a rather clear intent.
"Are you going to - make use of the - ?" Stede pants. Ed had expressed a preference to just watch. He is evidently having other ideas, now.
"I think I will. Unless you want to take it."
"I'm afraid I'm a little .... ah, too close to..." Stede tenses, and shudders. His orgasm seems to last forever, his unfinished sentence forgotten in the white hot rush. When he regains his senses, he sees Ed at one of the larger windows, baring himself but standing a bit further back from the opening than Stede, who is still pressed flush.
Ed bends down and says something in the low voice he uses for bedroom activities. Possibly urging the stranger not to be shy. Stede feels his own partner move away, and a rear end appears in the window in front of Ed.
"There's my treasure," Ed says, encouraging, and he's putting on the condum and lining himself up and putting his hands on his partner to guide things along. He does go slow at first, but once he starts moving Stede is a little surprised by how fast he's slamming into the stranger.
"That's nothing like you are with me," Stede notes. "You always prepare me, so gently."
"You're not--experienced," Ed answers.
"Then experience me," Stede mumbles.
"What's that?" Ed's a little distracted, and starting to breath hard.
"I said, you could have it like that, with me. Anytime you want."
"Yeah?" Ed takes a moment to adjust his positioning, and then starts driving even harder. "Yeah, I will. I'm going to fuckin'--"
"What?"
"Gonna make it so--" The stranger is grunting and howling on the other side of the wall. "So you can't fuckin' walk," he threatens. His voice is growing all grisly and hoarse.
"Yes, darling. I want you to." Stede has not quite yet recuperated, anatomically, but he's regaining interest. "Are you getting close?"
"Yeah, I am, but this thing--" Ed makes a frustrated grunt. He's struggling with the condum, Stede can tell.
"Take it off," Stede commands him. "I'll use my hands."
"You sure?"
"Please. You can finish on my chest." He's getting to his knees, and pulling off his shirt, and wishing he'd asked for one of the rugs for his knees. As an afterthought, he decides to lay down on the ground, having been intimate with Ed in that supine position a few times, with Ed kneeling on the bed over him.
Ed gives the stranger a little slap--Stede can hear--and says something soft and low again. He joins Stede in a moment, the barrier discarded and forgotten, his lengthy cock in his hand, leaking.
"Come join me down here, perhaps?"
"Rather not, actually," Ed replies, and to Stede's surprise he stands with one foot on either side of Stede's chest and starts to use his hand. It's so vulgar, so unexpected from this angle that Stede finds himself aroused, and sets his own hands to work on himself.
The business is finished quickly and in a distinctly messy fashion. Ed finds a handkerchief, though they've agreed to rush back to the ship to a bath after this particular outing. As Stede reassembles his clothing he hears a sound of muffled speech, a door open and close in the other room, and more muffled speech.
"Won't it be awkward, if we cross paths on the way out?" Stede asks.
"Doubt we will. Let's rest a minute, and then go on."
They sit on the bench and fall into some semblance of a cuddle, Ed's arm around Stede's shoulders and Stede's head leaning against him. "Thank you for showing me this," Stede murmurs. "I love you."
"Love you more," Ed answers, automatically. "How'd they compare to me, by the way?"
"Nothing compares even a little," Stede said. "You're an albatross among common petrels."
"Ehhhh, alright, alright," Ed says, dismissive, but Stede knows he revels in it. There's been almost as much belaboured poetry between them, since they reconcilled, as there has been sexual depravity.
Speaking of which, at that moment one of the windows to the other side slides open. From their seat they can see a figure on the other side, revealed from chin to clavicle. They have dark curls and an inviting set of lips. Ed looks over at Stede and raises an eyebrow.
"I really couldn't," Stede sighs.
"Just making sure."