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Stede is…
Well, there’s no way to put it other than such: Stede is a little fucking minx in bed.
It’s only Stede’s second time getting fucked, and Ed is about ready to go ahead and make this his preference if it means he gets to wring these sounds out of Stede on a regular basis. Who fucking knew that underneath the high collars, frothy cravats, covered forearms, and the other ten million goddamn layers Stede would have no problem begging for Ed’s cock. Or begging for anything, really, dark eyes fixated on Ed, his mouth open and and slick, and sweet fucking hell, his noises.
“Please,” Stede gasps, as if Ed isn’t already starting to pump his hips, getting purchase with his knees on the bed. Impatient, Ed wants to say, before he gets distracted by Stede’s tits and biceps, how he finds a rhythm quickly, and then he can’t think of anything other than the squeeze around his prick and the open-mouthed way Stede looks up at him. “Ed, please,” Stede adds, snapping Ed from his increasingly lurid thoughts. “Harder, you know I can take it.”
Oh, I fucking know you can. It’s not like Ed hasn’t heard Stede beg before, either: Ed likes a little teasing when he’s going down on someone, and Stede is so fun to push to the edge again and again. He pinks up so nicely, and when he’s right at his breaking point his voice takes on a deep, rough edge that always goes directly to Ed’s balls. Ed could leave Stede there, teetering precariously on that precipice, and Stede would ask for more. He always does.
So. Stede begs plenty. So does Ed; he isn’t ashamed to admit that. It’s fantastic, a little bit of begging here and there. Really humbling, Ed likes to think. Good for the soul or something.
Stede with a dick up his arse, though, is an entirely new level of begging.
“There, yes, fuck,” says Stede, arching up off the bed, pushing his hips into each thrust. He makes it look so fucking good, sinuous, muscles going taut and the soft skin at his belly and sides folding up, begging for Ed’s hands to touch, to grab, to hold while he fucks hard into him. Ed’s mouth goes dry just watching it, the rise and fall of Stede’s chest and the sweat beginning to gather in the hollow of his throat. He wants to lick it off, bury himself there.
Ed had taken Stede’s wrists in one hand as he started to sink in, pinning them above his head in a way that leaves Stede’s arms bulging, and the look Ed had gotten had kept them there as he bottomed out, his other hand on Stede’s thigh to hold him open and wide. Stede blinks up at him, licking his lips, and Ed says, “Yeah?”
With a nod Stede moans.
“Feel good?”
“So good.”
Stede is so soft and hot and warm inside, and Ed sinks his cock in again and again, the sound slick and lewd with coconut oil; tipping his head down, fingers flexing on Stede’s wrists, Ed watches that sink into him, over and over: the hard, flushed-dark length of his prick, the sucking grasp of Stede’s swollen pink hole.
“Fucking gorgeous, mate,” he says, because he can’t stop it, because it’s true. Countless people have been in his bed, and none even come close to this. None have made him feel like this, heart in his throat and on his sleeve; none have made him want with such a single-minded focus. He touches Stede everywhere that he can, dragging his nails in fine lines that redden immediately on the soft, delicate skin of his inner thighs. He pets over Stede’s prick, cups his sac, slides the soft, reddish-gold curls at the base of his cock between his fingers and tugs, gently, until Stede whimpers with it.
The bed is small, but Ed can deal with that. He can make it work like he makes everything work. He can fold Stede in on himself, hips angled up, the perfect leverage for Ed to move closer, fuck in deeper. Stede grunts with it, brow furrowed as he says Ed’s name again. His wrists flex in Ed’s grip, fingers curling and uncurling. Ed gives him a sharp grin that precedes a sharp thrust forward, and Stede cries out, heels digging into Ed’s lower back, his own arching up off the bed.
“Fuck,” Stede swears. Against his belly his prick twitches, pre-come stringing sticky to his abdomen. Their eyes meet. Ed, never breaking that contact, fumbles a hand between them to swipe over the wet head of Stede’s cock, coating the pads of his index and middle fingers in Stede’s slick. Beneath him Stede whimpers, twisting his hips; when Ed brings his hand up, fingers catching in the light, Stede’s mouth opens.
“Fuck,” Ed echoes, hooking his fingers in the warm damp of Stede’s mouth, shuddering when his tongue slips and slides around his fingers, mouth sealing as he sucks them deeper, works them like he would Ed’s prick. Electricity tingles down his spine, bringing to mind the still air before a thunderstorm. That anticipation, that static. That’s what Stede’s mouth is like around him. “That’s it, babe, fuck you’re hot.”
Stede bobs his head one final time and Ed slips his fingers free, trails saliva down Stede’s chin, then over a nipple as he rubs at it, rolling it between his fingers until Stede is panting and pushing both up into it and away from it and saying, “Ed, please. Fuck me.”
Ed bends low, lips brushing the flush-warm shell of Stede’s ear. “What else do you want?” He buries himself to the root, again and again. Stede grunts, and Ed takes the lobe in his teeth, gives a sharp tug that catches Stede’s breath deep in his throat. “Hmm?” He kisses Stede’s neck, sucks a mark that he knows the high collars will have a hell of a time hiding. It stokes that possessive fire in him even hotter, makes him bare his teeth a little and growl in the back of his throat.
Stede works his hips counter to Ed’s. “Ed—”
“Do you want me to come in you?” Ed breathes, words crowding from his mouth before he can think. He hasn’t, not yet, not like this, but Stede has in him, and Ed wants it so fucking badly his vision fuzzes with it. Stede jolts, groans, pulls Ed into a messy kiss by the long fall of his hair curtaining around them. They part with a slick sound, saliva stringing between them, pleasure skittering up Ed’s scalp and down the nape of his neck from Stede’s grip. Ed drops his forehead to Stede’s clavicle, breathes in-out and rocks into the hot-slick heat of Stede’s body, listens to the rumble of his moans, the beat of his heart. “Tell me, Stede, fuck, need you to tell me what you want, need to fuckin’ hear it.”
“Yes. I—I want that.” Stede tightens his legs around Ed’s hips and arches up into each thrust. He’s beautiful, sweat-shiny and flushed and crazed with it, too. His hair is spilled gold across the pillows, a lock plastered to his forehead with sweat. He tightens around Ed, a flutter-clench of his hole that catches Ed’s breath in his throat and makes his hips judder forward violently, the angle changing enough to make Stede inhale sharply. He strokes down Ed’s jaw with an uncoordinated hand, fingers trembling, and manages, “Come inside me, darling.”
Fuck. Fucking fuck. Ed doesn’t know how he’ll survive this.
“Yeah?” He chokes it out. His arm trembles where it holds him up. His fingers shake around Stede’s wrists; he finally lets go of them to grab at the backs of both of Stede’s thighs, pulling him down the bed and pushing him up, curling over him and angling him to find that spot back, rutting against it until Stede’s moans begin to ramp up in desperation.
Stede, mouth open, upper lip curled back from his teeth, shouts, ”Ed!” He curls his other leg around Ed’s waist, wraps his hand loosely around himself for a few rough strokes that leave his head rolling back. Ed snaps his hips forward hard, hard, and Stede shouts again to the ceiling.
“Want me to make you all sloppy with it?” Ed buries his face in the crook of Stede’s neck where he tastes like salt and sweat and soap. Opening his mouth, he licks over Stede’s pulse, nips sharply at the hinge of his jaw. Stede whimpers, and Ed kisses the sound from his lips, dips his tongue in, breathes in his scent before he says, “Want my come on the insides of your thighs? Want to feel me—fuck—drip out of you?”
“Oh,” Stede moans, grabbing at Ed’s arms, then his shoulders. His eyes, fluttering, roll back at another sharp thrust that slaps their skin together. “Oh, oh, E-Ed. Oh, fuck, oh my god.”
His voice has begun to pitch up, growing louder as it grows higher, and Ed laughs and kisses him quiet and says, “Shh, love, d’you want to wake up the whole ship?”
“Don’t care,” says Stede, nails digging into the breadth of Ed’s shoulders, the words strained with the position of his body. “Not when you—oh!—feel so good inside me.”
Lust, with its smoky clutches, spreads through Ed with a sweet-sharp zip. “You could give a man a complex,” teases Ed, eyeing the bounce of Stede’s tits. Because he has no self-control, and because he can, he palms them, kneading the flesh, kissing away Stede’s little mewls as he clenches around Ed’s cock. He’s so sweet, and Ed loves him so much.
“You already have a complex,” Stede replies when they part, vowels stretching long on a moan. He braces a hand on the wall behind him, tossing his head back. Outside the windows the moon glitters silver over the water, a silent observer. Stede’s dark eyes glitter like that water when he slants a smile up at Ed before pleasure crunches up his brow again. “Shit. So put your back into it and use it, Edward.”
Ed slides out with a growl and a slick sound, gripping Stede’s waist and hauling him over onto his belly. Stede goes with an oomph, turning his head to look, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, from his nest of pillows.
“You want me to use it?” Ed asks, heart hammering in his chest, prick pulsing between his legs. Stede’s arse is something to behold, firm and round and a perfect sweetheart curve as he starts moving before Ed has even spoken again, unsteadily getting up onto spread-wide knees. “Yeah, that’s it, love, hands and knees, there’s a good boy.” Stede shivers. Ed steadies the sway of his cock and teases it over the give of Stede’s hole, working the shaft until pre-come beads at the slit and he can rub it into Stede’s slick skin before pushing back in. He blankets himself over Stede’s back with a groan as he sinks in to the root, breathes in the citrus and spice of Stede’s soap in his hair. “God, you’re so tight. Feel so—so fucking good. Are you gonna come for me?”
“Uh-huh.” Stede’s body pitches, uneven, as he reaches a hand between his legs, and Ed kisses the top knob of his spine, smooths his hand down Stede’s flank to grip at his hip. He can feel pleasure twisting and licking at the base of his spine, growing from a spark to a flame quickly, sped up by the slick sound of Stede jerking himself off, the humidity in the cabin.
“Are you close?” Ed slides his palm around Stede’s throat, pulling his head back just enough to put pressure, but not enough to make breathing difficult. Under his palm Stede’s throat bobs. He nods.
The hand on Stede’s hip slides to his arse, gripping one cheek, thumb teasing over where he’s sliding in and out. He moans shakily at the brush of his thumbnail. Stede shudders, fluttering around him, fucking back against Ed’s thrusts, over and over.
“Come for me,” Ed cajoles, gripping Stede’s arse tightly, pushing down on his lower back with his other hand. The angle lets him crowd closer, nail that spot that makes Stede shout, head dipping down as the back-forth motion of his body grows more violent. Ed swallows hard, balls drawing up and heat pooling low in his belly. “Yeah—fucking—c’mon, Stede, oh fuck, oh Christ—fuckin’…come for me, let me see you.”
“Ed,” Stede sobs, teeth in the pillowcase, and Ed pushes deep, circles his hips, says, “Stede.”
Stede comes with a wail, writhing on Ed’s cock and shoving himself into every thrust, dropped down to one forearm while he strips his own cock with single-minded focus. Ed’s orgasm crashes into him before he can stop it, and he muffles his own shout in Stede’s shoulder, hands gripping Stede’s hips tightly as his prick pulses in him.
They breathe, Ed pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses over the nape of Stede’s neck, the downy-soft hair there. He slides a hand down the arm Stede’s using to keep himself up, stroking over the skin, curling around the bumps of his knuckles. Stede turns his hand and slots their fingers together.
“You really put your back into that,” says Stede, voice low and rough, accent thick as he comes back to himself.
Ed snorts, hiding his giggle in Stede’s skin. “I shouldn’t let you get your way, you brat. It’s gonna make me lose my edge.”
“What edge?” asks Stede, turning his head to smile beatifically up at Ed. His curls are all mussed, strewn every which way from Ed’s fingers and the pillows, and Ed wants to kiss him until their lips and jaws ache.
Ed rolls his eyes and squeezes Stede’s hand before withdrawing. His back protests the prolonged strain, and his knee isn’t faring any better. Fuck, he hates being old. He’s glad he and Stede met when they did, because he knows he wouldn’t have appreciated it before, but sometimes the thought crosses his mind. Sex without aching knees and backs, better refractory periods still on the table.
When Ed slips free it’s with a slick, lewd sound that sends a jolt up his spine. He moves slightly to let the candlelight catch on Stede’s skin, over the used, loose puffiness of his hole and the thin line of white that’s slowly leaking out over the soft crinkle of hair.
Ed thumbs over it, clocks Stede’s own shudder, the flex of his hole, like it’s winking cheekily at him. He tugs at the rim with his thumb, the tip disappearing inside, and says, “Can you push out for me?”
Stede lets out a tiny, wrecked sound and buries his face in his folded arms before bearing down, sending a thick glob of come and oil spilling over Ed’s thumb. Ed sucks in a breath, feels like his heart seizes in his chest. “Christ. Fucking—holy shit, Stede. You’re goddamn beautiful. I can’t believe—can I eat you out? Please let me, fuck. I need to taste you.”
“Oh, god, Edward. I’m—please,” Stede gets out, words slurring together slightly.
Ed bites at the milky curve of one arse cheek, then the other, trails the point of his tongue from the top of the divide down to where Stede’s slick and loose, worked open from Ed’s prick and fingers. With a muffled moan he seals his mouth over Stede’s hole and fucks his tongue in deep.
This time, Stede’s shout is so loud it echoes in the cabin. Ed pulls back with a wet sound, a wet beard, and the salt taste of himself and Stede mixed with oil. Between his legs, Stede’s prick is still soft as Ed wraps his hand around it, soothes away Stede’s overstimulated whimpers, and asks, “Think you can come again, sweetheart?”
Then, after a pause and another lick over Stede’s hole, another pass of come bitter on his tongue: “I think you can. And I think you will for me.”
Stede whimpers.