Work Text:
Stede’s had a hard month. It’s been a hard year, honestly, ever since that whole you think our lives are monotonous? argument with Mary had bloomed and burst into a million stinging shards of yes and don’t you? and is this all there is? Seriously?
They call this a mid-life crisis, he’s fairly sure, as he sits at his kitchen table with his laptop in the late afternoon sun and scrolls idly through the listings on the sex toy page. He deserves to try something new and interesting, to figure out this facet of himself better, but gosh, there are… a lot of things on here, and he knows next to nothing about any of them, so it’s all scrolling and scrolling and scrolling for now. Clicking, clicking back, scrolling a bit more, pondering.
That now-distant argument with Mary had rolled into him leaving the family home that night and not returning, which ultimately landed him here, living on his own in this little terraced house on the edge of the city centre. He’d also quit his father’s soulless corporate nightmare at the same time, sold all his stocks, and used those to fund his pipe dream of many years, a rare bookstore that does have a shopfront downtown, run with middling efficiency by Lucius and much greater efficiency by Jim most of the time.
But he does a solid portion of his business online, so he works from home a lot. He’s very functional about life, really getting himself out there, even if it’s mostly online. Absolutely killing it.
A touch lonely, to be fair, but it has its benefits, because that’s also what’s brought him into much, much more regular contact with his local mail delivery driver, Ed. And Ed, he’s got to admit, has been a significant part of the next stage of his journey, the reason he’s scrolling this page, after several months of putting it off. The long overdue translation of the Rosetta Stone of Stede Bonnet, a one-word result that explains so much: gay.
Not that Ed knows anything about his particular role in this. They’re business acquaintances. Ed arrives on his front porch every day at 11am, wearing those tight black shorts and the black combat boots, the short-sleeved black button-down that reveals so much of his gloriously inked brown skin. He’s technically more of a courier than a mail carrier, but there are some… definite benefits to the uniform having the same vibe. He hands over anything Stede’s having delivered. Takes whatever Stede’s sending out. Says three sentences, five if Stede’s lucky, in that smoky, lovely, rumbling voice of his, then winks, burnt-caramel irises warm in the sun, silver strands of his short beard gleaming, beautiful throat on display under his messy bun, and says completely unreasonable things like, “Have a great day, mate.”
It’s absolutely not his fault what that voice does to Stede’s insides, or very particular parts of his outsides. And Ed can’t possibly know the lightning bolt of realisation it sent through Stede as he skidded back into the house after one such exchange, back pressed to the door as clarity rushed through him.
I’m attracted to him. I’m desperately, hopelessly attracted. To him. Attracted, to HIM.
Him, him, him, still echoing through his rattling brain when another rap on the wood came right behind his head, and he nearly jumped out of his skin entirely. Slung the door back open to find Ed standing there, amusement on his beautiful face, shorts still as tight as they were a minute ago.
“Mate, you, uh. You forgot to take your packages in.”
There were two mountains of cardboard-wrapped stock out there that day, all of them books that were precious enough to warrant direct mail to Stede instead of the store, but at that particular moment he didn’t care at all if several hooded book-thieves emerged from the bushes and took off with all of it.
“Thank you,” he got out, strangled.
Ed cocked his head a little. “You need some help getting them inside?”
“No!” He hadn’t meant to yelp it quite so loudly. “No, thank you, thank you so much for the offer. I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do.”
Ed gestured back toward his truck. “I do get a ten minute break here or there.”
And oh, he couldn’t possibly ask Ed to waste that with him. But Ed was looking at him like he… maybe wouldn’t mind that, actually. Assume the positive! his peppy therapist’s voice yelled in his head. But his cock was still inappropriately half-hard in his trousers, and his mind was still reeling, and he could only stammer out, “Not today, sorry.”
Ed’s face had fallen. It was the last time he’d asked, and Stede has never been brave enough to ask him again.
So, here he is, several months down the line, feeling… lonely, yes. Regretful about missed opportunities and embarrassment so deep he might never be able to reverse it. Thinking that he really ought to up his game, try some new things, gain a bit of confidence for whatever, or whoever, might wander into his life next.
Click, click back, scroll. He could do this all day and get nowhere, but that’s where he’s been for most of his life, and he’s already broken through several different walls to get somewhere. He can keep going. The website has a beginner’s section that gives recommendations for where to start, and he clicks through to that. He is a beginner, and beginner might imply a mortifying lack of experience, but it also implies that what comes after is experience, so that’s good. He’s committed. He’s making this happen.
The page is straightforward and helpful and recommends a range of things, from douches to lube to plugs and more plugs and vibrating plugs and probes and beads and dildos. But in a more helpful sort of order than random scrolling, and without second-guessing it any further, he tosses the first few essentials in his virtual shopping basket, inputs the necessary details, and checks out.
And then he has a five-minute panic attack, head down on the kitchen table, and ends up going to bed feeling drained.
~
The next day, at 11am, there’s the usual knock on the door. He opens it with a smile, and there’s Ed, gorgeous hair mostly down, half up today, jaunty little red bandanna around his neck. The one that Stede gave him last Christmas, in fact, and that makes his stomach flip.
“Hey,” he says. “Got anything for me?”
“Always.” Stede goes back inside and collects up his handful of orders, not too many today, and brings them out. When he gets there Ed’s not surrounded by the usual piles—in fact he only has one box in his hands. “Not much for me today?”
“Nah, sorry, mate, doesn’t look like you’ve got books this time. Just, uh. Just this.”
Stede reaches out for the box, but Ed’s still holding it.
“Wasn’t me, mind you, just… somewhere along the line, I’m afraid the packaging got a little beaten up.” He’s still holding it, still looking at Stede in a way that sends joint streams of warmth and cold through him.
“Not a bother! These things happen.”
“Yeah. Uh.” Ed finally, finally passes the box to him, and it takes Stede the most unfortunate 0.2 seconds of his life to understand the face he was making. Because the packaging is brown, plain, just as advertised on the website. The website that has apparently, somehow, managed to have these sex toys delivered to him the very next morning after ordering, which is impressively efficient! Really, he’s got to hand it to them.
But the packaging inside is… less discreet, because the purple lubricant and the little box with the word ANAL DOUCHE spelled out are very visible, nestled inside the packing peanuts, but the BEGINNER’S ANAL PLUG complete with whole naked man inserting it into his ass is even more distinct.
He can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. “Right! Fantastic. Thanks so much, Ed.” He can’t even look up. He just turns for the door, walks directly into the screen, and has to clap a hand over his nose to contain the pain. “Well, fnck.”
“Christ, are you okay?” Ed’s behind him, Ed’s very close behind him, and Stede is in the middle of wanting to die for two entirely different reasons, one so that he doesn’t have to think about Ed looking at his sex toys and seeing him, and two to stop feeling like his face just exploded. “Stede?”
“‘M f’ne,” he manages to honk out. “Rlly gnnd. Bye.”
Somehow he gets the door open. Somehow he gets inside.
“Stede,” Ed says, catching the screen before it can bang behind him. He’s pleading, voice soft. “Hey. I don’t want to overstep, mate, but I just want you to know I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to pry. But there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We’ve all gotta start somewhere. You’re doing great.”
He can’t turn around. He wants to turn around, but he can’t. Ed’s praise is making something well up inside him that feels an awful lot like it might spill over into tears at any moment. He just nods and says, “Thank you.”
~
God, what a day.
It’s several hours later before he finds himself pottering around, getting ready for bed. He strips off, has a shower, resolutely does not think about Ed the way he usually does. Brushes his teeth, inspecting his slightly bruised but otherwise fine nose, his crow’s feet, the threads of silver in his hair. That’s the face of a man who’s lived. He’s got plenty more living to do.
He goes back out to the bedroom without putting on his pyjamas, and stands there like he’s a naked outlaw in the Old West, facing down a nemesis.
The battered box is sitting in the middle of the comforter, taunting him a little bit.
Or… no, maybe not taunting. It might have felt like that until Ed’s final words, but then Ed was… kind. Understanding. Reassuring, and that had made a surprising amount of difference. Talking about personal experience, wasn’t he? We’ve all gotta start somewhere. Wasn’t he?
He’s beset by the sudden vision of Ed sprawled out on a bed, long starlight-streaked hair fanning out around him, back arched as he pushes the plug inside himself, and just like that, Stede’s cock is taking an interest again, beginning to fill.
He sits down on the edge of the bed and pulls the box closer. The lube first, and then the douche, which… okay, he’s done some reading. He eats plenty of fibre. He’s been to the bathroom a few hours ago, and he’s given himself a thorough wash. He probably doesn’t need that for this purpose, so he might park that for next time, but… the rest? If not now, when?
He takes out the plug, manages to wrangle it out of the box. It’s a slim black thing, only the width of his little finger and about the same length, with a wide base that he knows is for the purpose of not having the user end up starring on Sex Sent Me to the ER. He’s not going there, thanks very much.
The plug looks… achievable. Manageable. Not like all the monster dildos that had scrolled past him yesterday, a marching army of cocks as he scrolled down the page. He thinks, actually, that he can fit that inside him.
He lets out a breath, lets the tingling excitement spread over him. Okay. Yeah, okay, he’s doing this.
He pushes all the covers down and centres himself in the bed, a mountain of pillows cradling him as he squeezes the lube over his fingers and watches it gleam in the lamplight. It’s slick and thick, thicker than anything he’s used before in all his years of rare, unsatisfying heterosexual sex. There’s a new configuration to work out, awkward angles of legs and arms, balls and now achingly hard cock in the way of him being able to see what he’s doing.
It’s fine. He’s good, he’s feeling his way into this. He lets his slick fingers wander over his cock, gives it a couple of smooth tugs to build the heat a bit more. Then down over his balls, shifting them gently aside, letting himself appreciate how soft they are, how it feels to touch them so gently. Then tracing softly, softly over the furled muscle of his hole, feeling his muscles quiver with the quicksilver bright, hot thread of arousal it sends through him. That’s nice. He can’t believe he’s never tried this before.
Feeling his way through this is good. It’s great, it’s just… not the easiest when he already has no idea what he’s doing. But, it suddenly hits him, he has a shaving mirror in the bathroom, doesn’t he? A small one that props to give a closer view.
He bounds out of bed and dashes to find it, stashed away in the vanity. Practically leaps back into the bed with it, slips on his reading glasses, and after a bit of rearranging himself like a lord, he’s got it propped between his legs, a perfect view of his own backside.
To be fair, he’s never considered there to be anything particularly attractive about that part of his anatomy. It’s always been functional, which is about the kindest thing he can say. But he lets himself look now, as if he’s seeing through other eyes.
Ed’s eyes, maybe. He can imagine that Ed’s eyes must be quite something to see staring back at a person from right there, down between his legs, a hot breath away from his hole. He adds more lube to his fingers and reaches down, pulls one cheek aside to look more closely. This time when he rubs over that spot, he can see his cock twitch in the reflection, see the way the entrance flares and clenches with the feeling. He practices a bit more, breathing steadily, pressing a bit deeper.
Eventually, the tip of his finger pops in, and he gasps a surprised breath, letting his head fall back against the pillows. Oh, that feels… that feels good. He slides it in and out for a bit, pushing deeper, feeling the warmth, the tightness, the softness of himself.
He’s got a towel, and he wipes his hand down on that, and picks up the plug. A basic one, it says. Good to practice penetration, and that thought makes him hot all over, because to practice implies a purpose. He slicks it up with lube, reaches down again, and slowly presses it inside.
It’s… oh, it’s even better than the finger, and he stifles a moan, before realising he doesn’t have to stifle a damn thing anymore and letting his voice ring out into the bedroom. It’s smooth, it’s slick, it’s slim, and in a moment it’s slid inside the full distance, the base lodged there against him, keeping it safe.
He lies back in the pillows, panting at the feeling. It’s an intrusion, a new one, but it’s also sparking the most fascinating feeling of fullness. He takes hold of his cock, surprised to find that it’s flagged a bit when he’s this aroused, but he’s heard that happens. It only takes a few strokes for it to come back to full hardness anyway, and then, oh, god, it’s…
It’s a whole new level, is what it is. This feels right in a way that nothing ever has before, as he strokes himself firmly, steadily, as that plug keeps on filling him. Is this what it’s going to be like to be fucked? He thinks about that army of cocks, imagines a roomful of men to choose from. What it’s going to be like to have a real human cock stretching him so much wider, pressing so much deeper. What it’s going to be like to have an actual man between his legs, fucking into him, staring at him with those deep, dark, intense eyes, silvered hair slipping over his naked, tattooed shoulder as he moans Stede’s name, and he’s bowled over by the suddenness of the orgasm as it hits him, crashing through every inch of his body, bringing him howling off the bed as he spills all the way up to his chest.
Of course it was Ed in his mind, the only fantasy man he’d ever choose.
It’s incredible how much more that plug brought to the experience, he realises in the shaky aftermath. His body had clamped down around it, all those sensitive parts alight with the sensation of being penetrated. He can only imagine how much better it’s going to get from here.
And Ed. He’d been thinking about Ed, as he often does. Ed, who’d seen that package and not flinched and tried to make it easier for him. Who’d let him know, quietly, subtly, that he understood.
Stede reaches out with a shaky hand, plug still held tight by his body, and swipes up his phone. Flicks through to the company’s page, chooses the plug category, and scrolls confidently down until he finds one that’s a couple of sizes bigger, and vibrating, to boot. In a fit of impulse, he flicks back to the dildo section, and scrolls, and scrolls, until—oh. Oh. He sees something that instantly appeals to his curiosity, and he adds that to the basket, too. This time when the payment goes through, he feels nothing but a warm rush of excitement.
Not only for the discovery ahead, but for the fact that Ed’s going to be delivering it, quite literally.
It feels… apt.
~
11am the next morning, he’s standing on the porch when Ed’s truck pulls into the drive.
Ed hops out, looks up and sees him, and grins so widely that it’s like the sun coming out. “Hey, Stede!”
“Good morning, Ed!”
Ed goes around to the back of the truck, bustles around back there, and comes out with a pile of boxes in his arms, kicking the door shut behind him. Stede tries to will his heart to slow down a little bit, but apparently thinking it into behaving simply doesn’t work, because his pulse is still fluttering in his neck as Ed takes the stairs in his usual easy stride. He sets the boxes down by the door, all of them very ordinarily book-shaped, and stops. “What’s this?”
The front porch is small, unfortunately, enclosed by a little wall at the front, only enough room for one little round table and two chairs, though the second chair has tended to live in the slightly larger courtyard out the back, since it’s just depressing to sit out there by himself. He’s moved it back out this morning, though, and set out one of his favourite china tea pots, a pair of cups and saucers, and a plate of pastel French Fancies cakes. “I just wanted to thank you for your care yesterday. Thought you might like to take that ten minute break for a quick cup of tea.”
Ed’s staring at him with big eyes, looking almost startled, and Stede’s heart gives another frantic leap. “If not that’s no bother at all, I promise, I drink far too much tea and the cakes can go in the fridge—“
“Fuck off, no, fuck, this is incredible.” The warmth in his eyes is impossible to miss, even for Stede. “Don’t think anyone’s ever made me a fancy little tea situation like this.”
Stede gasps in indignant horror. “Well, that’s not right at all. You deserve lovely things.”
He pulls out the chair like a proper gentleman and indicates for Ed to sit, and he takes the other seat himself. Smiles over at Ed as he lifts the pot and pours for each of them, then nudges over the milk jug and the sugar bowl. Ed lands a dollop of milk in his cup and then spoons a truly wild quantity of sugar into his tea—six, seven spoons, Stede’s going to remember that, unless, oh, shit, maybe it’s because he doesn’t like tea, in which case—but Ed lifts it to his mouth and takes his first sip with a groan. “Perfect. Perfect, perfect.”
Stede sighs in relief as he adds a lot more milk to his own cup, and a very moderate single spoonful of sugar. And then he steels himself, because there’s no time like the present to get to the point. “Thank you, Ed, truly.”
Ed gives him a little sidelong glance. “For what?”
He’s got his hair in a braid today, one that loops down over his shoulder, tickling at the edge of where his shirt is unbuttoned. Just under the collar he has a hawk tattooed in full flight, and he’s wearing a strand of pearls along with a gold chain, nestled into gleaming strands of silver chest hair. Stede suppresses the thought of how much he’d just like to… lick Ed there, feel the rough rake of that hair and the bump of his collarbone under his tongue as Ed’s cock shifts deep inside him, and it’s about then that he realises he’s drifted, and Ed’s still watching him with amused curiosity.
He attempts to swallow. “Right. Yes. I’ve been… trying to understand myself a little better, one might say.”
“Love that,” Ed says, all kindness. “Went through the same, just a real fucking long time ago to start, but… always learning more.”
Stede finds himself smiling. “I think that’s lovely to know, that even when you’re very experienced, you can still discover things you don’t—“ He catches himself. “God, sorry, I’m making assumptions about what you did discover.”
“Oh, bet your assumptions are all right, mate.” Ed takes another sip of his tea, grinning. “Love sex. Big into sex. Not much I haven’t tried. Just getting pickier in my old age about who I want it with.”
Stede takes another breath, lets it out. Feels the warmth of his teacup under his fingertips. Assume the positive! Assume the positive!
“I think that’s very valid. I suppose I’m also feeling pickier about it, since I was married for fifteen years before I realised I was gay. This year. Just realised.” Because of you. “Really starting from scratch over here.”
There. It’s out. It’s on the table, sitting invisibly next to the French Fancies. Which reminds him to reach for one—a yellow one, he’s always loved the lemon flavour. Cakes are good. Tea is good. All that blue sky out there is good, anything to look at instead of looking at Ed.
When he looks up from peeling the paper case away from the cake and makes eye contact again, Ed looks almost teary. “Fucking inspiring, man. Reinventing yourself like that? You’re amazing.”
Is it warm out here, or are his cheeks just getting hot? He takes a nibbling bite of the cake, swallows the burst of sweetness. “Well, thank you. It hasn’t felt especially brave just ordering toys online.”
“Disagree. Brave as hell taking that first leap.” Ed reaches for a cake, too. Picks a bright pink one with a tiny icing flower on it, and traces his finger over the delicate sugar in a way that makes Stede shiver. He carefully keeps watching the cake as he says, “Might be too personal a question, but did you—did you use it?”
It floods through him, molten and sugared. Ed is asking. Ed wants to know. He can do this, he can. “I did, actually.”
“Yeah?” At last, Ed’s eyes flick up to meet his, and Stede can’t catch his breath. He’s not great at reading people, but even if he didn’t understand the look on Ed’s face, he understands the way it feels, lancing through him. Pure desire, aimed his way. Ed’s voice has dropped even lower. “Was it good?”
He tries not to whimper. “It was incredible.”
He beams. “Fuck, yes. See, you learned something about yourself! How often do we get to do that at our age?” Ed does look about his age, and he’s a Kiwi, too, which are just a couple of the many things that have made Stede feel like he already knows this man well. He might be getting a bit parasocial about it, but he doesn’t think he’s mistaking what he’s feeling here.
He’s feeling… emboldened. “I ordered more, actually. I want to keep learning.”
Ed nearly chokes on the cake that’s halfway into his mouth. “Shit. Fuck. Forgot, hang on.”
He’s pushing his chair back and bolting off down the path a minute later, which is—all right, it’s a little bit disappointing. Stede jams the rest of his lemon cake in his mouth and gives it the sad cow treatment, chewing it until he can swallow the lot, and then he drains his tea for good measure, just in case Ed is about to say he went too far, to leave.
But no, Ed’s rushing back up the path with another box in his hands, brown paper wrapped, this time a newly familiar, less book-like shape that makes his heart take off racing all over again.
“Didn’t want it to get mashed again, so I had it in the front seat.” Ed plants it on the table with a flourish and drops right back into his own seat, no more than an arm’s length away. “Ta da! Fucking fast postage. Always love their stuff.”
Stede reaches out and runs a finger over the edge of the parcel. “You order from them as well?”
“Yeah, all discreet packaging, but I’d know it anywhere. I’ve got a whole collection in the toy drawer at home.”
Oh. “Maybe I should ask you for some recommendations,” Stede says, trying not to let his voice crack.
Ed nods to the package. “Might already have ordered some of my favourites. Never know.”
There’s a question in that, an offer, and Stede pulls the box closer. Fuck it, why not? The conversation they’ve been having has already gone leaps and bounds past what he expected. “Should I open it?”
Ed’s eyes are almost glittering with enthusiasm. “Do it.”
He shreds the paper off it like it’s Christmas, and opens it up. The items are nestled in there, the plug first, and he pulls that out.
“I do have that one,” Ed says, sounding delighted about it. “One of my favourites, good everyday tickle for your prostate, once you learn how to drive it right.”
Oh… god, Stede can’t even believe he’s having this conversation. This is what he’s been missing out on, someone who really gets it, who can fill the gaps in what he knows. He pulls out the next box before he remembers his impulse purchase, and then he has to resist the urge to hold it to his chest in a panic. “Oh… that was… I just thought—“
But Ed’s looking at the—god, that’s surprisingly thick—iridescent tentacle dildo with pure glee. “Mate, we must have a psychic bond or something. Got that one, too. Feels really fucking good if you sucker it to a chair and ride it.”
Stede’s blue-screening a touch, or at least he thinks that’s what Lucius calls it. Suddenly he can’t help but stare at Ed, sitting here on his patio chair, and mentally peel him out of everything he’s wearing, set the imaginary him writhing on a tentacle, cock out, maybe while Stede—while Stede—he’s suddenly conscious of just how hard he’s getting, and he moves to cross his legs, which draws a soft snort from Ed.
He leans back in his seat, and okay, yes, those shorts are quite tight. The expanse of leg between there and his haphazardly-laced combat boots is all brown skin and soft dark hair and more tattoos, including a tentacle, in fact, winding down over his thigh. He’s unmistakably hard, too, shorts straining, and Stede drags his gaze up and finds Ed watching him.
“You know, uh. That plug.” He extends one graceful arm and plucks up another cake, this one peach-pink. Peels it carefully, and then licks the side of it, making Stede clutch the metal edges of his seat, as if the earth is shaking apart underneath him, watching the pink of Ed’s tongue, the glisten of his spit. He licks his lips. “Works best if someone sucks you off while you’re using it.”
Breathing is good. Breathing is a healthy activity for the average human body. Stede certainly knows how to breathe, and has in fact spent forty-nine years on this earth doing it with functional efficiency. But now the air manages to go in just barely with a strangled sort of squeak. “Yeah?” he says. Say the thing, say it. His mouth manages to move despite all the jammed gears in his brain. “Unfortunately I don’t have anyone who could help me with that.”
“Huh.” Ed squeezes his cake a little, and the cream inside bursts out through the top. He licks it off his thumb, lingers while he sucks the digit. “Never know, maybe he’s waiting for you out there.”
Stede could be bold. He could be so bold, there’s nothing stopping him. He opens his mouth to speak, just as Ed looks down at his watch and says, “Fuck, that’s my ten minutes.” He pushes his chair back again and stands. “Thanks again for a lovely tea.” Stede watches him go with aching desperation, every part of him yearning to grab Ed and hold him here and tell him, tell him, tell him what he’s feeling.
He doesn’t, though. Ed pauses long enough to scoop up the stack of outgoings, and when he gets to the top of the stairs, he turns back and winks. “See you tomorrow, Stede. Same time, same place.”
Really? Really? He’s not imagining the way that sounded, is he?
Stede slumps back into his chair as he watches Ed go, the shape of his ass in those shorts, just… fuck. Ed drives away with a final cheery wave, and Stede carries the tea things back inside, and as soon as the last plate is in the sink he bolts upstairs to the bathroom and has the fastest, most intense wank of his entire life to date.
~
It’s 10:58am, and Stede’s pacing his living room like a man possessed. But a possessed man in slow motion, one careful step after another, still getting used to the plug that’s lodged inside him. He’s nearly certain this was what Ed meant, but look. If it’s not, then there’s no harm, no foul, nobody needs to know, because it’s invisible to the observer. Ed won’t have to take out a restraining order or anything and Stede won’t have to move to Costa Rica.
He fiddles with the remote, not sure what the protocol is here. Is he meant to get started? Is he meant to wait?
He answers that for himself by fidgeting so much that he presses the button, and freezes in place as it buzzes to life inside him. “Oh my god,” he whimpers. “Oh, fuck.”
It’s intense, is the thing, this rumbling vibration inside him when he was already feeling so full. He pushes the button again, but it only increases the intensity more, so much that it feels like his entire body is buzzing now. He takes the remote over to the kitchen, tries to get a better look at the detail in the direct sunlight, and promptly drops the fucking thing in the sink full of dishwater.
“Oh… shit,” he says, fishing around for it as his ass, his cock, his entire pelvic region and at least several inches of his legs become one unified erogenous zone. He’s almost sweating by the time he gets the remote out, and he starts clicking immediately, but it… does not work. It does not work.
He’s about to start panicking for real when there’s a sharp knock at the door, and oh, Christ, oh, god it’s 11am, isn’t it.
And he’s—he’s desperate. Properly, wildly desperate as he goes across to the door and flings it open to the only person he knows who he could talk to about this anyway, even if he hadn’t been doing it just for him.
Ed looks up all smouldering and lovely, but then he gets one look at Stede’s utterly wrecked face and his expression shifts to concern. “Mate, are you—“
Stede shoves open the screen door, making Ed jump back a step, and reaches out for him. Catches him by the lapels of his shirt and pulls him inside, over the threshold and into the house, Ed is inside his house.
“Ed,” he whines. “I need you.”
They’ve never been this close before, not like this. Stede’s fingers fisted in the front of his shirt, Ed’s mouth right there, right there, the corners lifting in soft, sympathetic amusement. “Oh, bro, I can hear it. Fuck, you really did put it in there, didn’t you? Got a little more than you bargained for.”
Stede nods pathetically, tears gathering in his eyes.
Ed pulls him in closer, quite literally wraps an arm around his waist, and pushes his hair back from his forehead in a way that feels fond. “Fucking lunatic. You’ve gotta start slower than this.”
“I lost the remote,” he barks out, panting. “I think I’m gonna die. Can you die from a butt plug?”
Ed’s hand has travelled from his hair to his cheek, a soft, slow path of touch that’s at direct odds with how hard and fast the toy is purring inside him. “Stede,” Ed says, soft and low, trailing his thumb over Stede’s bottom lip, over his chin. “You’re not going to die. Do you want me to help you?”
He nods a little bit desperately. “Yes. Please. I do, I do, I—“
Ed squeezes him again, pulls his chin up. “Mate, I can turn it off. Take it out. Doesn’t have to be awkward, doesn’t have to be anything else, not if it’s only because you’re desperate.”
“Ed,” Stede moans. “I am desperate. I’ve been desperate for months. It’s not the plug.”
“Yeah?” Ed’s hand is on his throat now, soft, sliding down to rest over his heart. “You want me?”
“I want you so much,” he sobs out. “Please.”
Ed’s leaning in, and Stede tilts his face up, and their mouths meet softly, so, so softly, and Ed huffs a little moan into his mouth, and it’s a miracle Stede doesn’t come right there and then, just from how plush and sweet his lips are.
Ed breaks away from him, eyes glazed, and says, “Fuck, I could feel that buzz in me, through you. Let’s get you sorted, huh?”
He leads Stede carefully, gently over to the couch, and eases him down onto it, making Stede squirm as that pushes the plug a little deeper. But Ed’s bending over him a second later, undoing his trousers and pulling them down, pulling his boxers down with them, exposing him fully.
And when everything he was wearing on his lower half is off, Ed kneels between his knees and tugs him closer to the edge of the couch, making him slide half onto his back. Ed’s reaching between his thighs, fingers brushing his balls, and then—
Blessed, blessed peace as the plug switches off. He gulps in a breath, and Ed kisses the inside of his knee, more tender than anything Stede’s ever experienced, even with the slight scratch of his moustache.
“It’s got a button on the base. You just hold it down for a few seconds to switch it off, no remote needed.”
“Good to know,” Stede says faintly, suddenly mortified. He’s still incredibly sensitive, and the way Ed’s fingers are brushing against his ass reminds him all over again that there is a man—a very handsome man—the very man he’s been falling head over heels for across months and months—blinking up at him with big eyes and that soft mouth and the clearest desire Stede’s ever seen on another human face.
Ed takes a shaky breath, and oh, this is affecting him, isn’t it? All of this. “I can… turn it back on to a lower setting, if you want.”
His immediate instinct is to say no, but then he pauses. It’s settling a bit now. Ed knows how to turn it off. And the thought of having Ed’s mouth on him—right there, ready to go—makes him shiver in the right way. “Okay. Yes, maybe just the lowest setting for—fuck.”
Ed’s clicked it on again, and this time the rumble is low and lovely, just the right frequency to make him shift a bit and moan, which is when he really becomes aware of the fact that he’s splayed out across his couch, naked from the waist down, with Ed right there.
“You’re even better than I hoped,” Ed says. “Can I touch you?”
He nods frantically, the power of speech utterly lost. Ed’s warm hands are skating up the inside of his thighs a moment later as Ed goes up on his knees, presses himself in against the edge of the couch. He’s staring so, so intently at Stede’s cock as he circles it and gives it a stroke, and Stede gasps at how good it feels.
“You like that?” Ed asks. “What about this?”
He puts out that perfect pink tongue of his and licks a long stripe up Stede’s cock, and this is—this is becoming a sort of out of body experience at this point, and his writhing and moaning can’t be helped. Ed just chuckles, bursts of warm air against his skin.
“All right, mate. Hold on tight.”
Stede’s about to ask what he means, but Ed reaches out for his hand and pulls it into his hair, and it’s all Stede can do not to fist it too tightly as Ed’s mouth closes over him and sucks him down.
It’s transcendent. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt in his life, the way Ed just takes him and takes him deeper and deeper, until Stede’s hips are hitching and every breath sounds like a cry, until Ed swallows against him, and the squeeze of his throat, the rippling press of his tongue, the constant rumble of the plug in his ass all combine to shove him hurtling over the cliff, crying out Ed’s name as he comes so hard that his vision goes black around the edges.
He’s only vaguely aware of Ed reaching under him to switch off the plug, and only after that does Ed pull off him slowly, slowly, looking satisfied and a little bit dazed as he wipes his beard with the back of his hand. “Fucking incredible,” he says hoarsely. “Good for you?”
“Get up here,” he says.
Ed does climb up onto the couch, but not only that, onto his lap, straddling him and pressed all along him and wedged in against his softening cock as Stede pulls him down and kisses him again, this time far more present, far more able to take exactly what he wants. He winds a hand up into Ed’s hair and tilts his mouth, and he’s never been very good at this, but god, he thinks he could be, with the right amount of practice with the right person.
Ed’s moaning and writhing against him, still every bit as hard, and Stede’s almost breathless as he reaches down between them. “Can I?”
“Fuck, yes, please.” Ed shifts enough to shove his shorts and underwear down, and then he’s straight back in Stede’s lap, like he needs to be exactly this close to him and nothing else will do. And Stede is—touching him now, taking someone else’s cock in his hand and stroking it, and with every move Ed’s brows come together and he lets out a sound. It’s barely ten strokes before Ed tenses up and puts his head back and shouts as he comes, and Stede watches him spurt over his fist, all over Stede’s shirt, and thinks he’s never worn anything better.
“Oh my god,” Ed’s saying as he comes down from that, hips still rocking. “Fuck, that was intense.”
“Good?”
“So good.” Ed’s breathing hard, pressed tight against him, foreheads together. “I wanted this for a long time, mate. Just didn’t know if it was something you’d want as well.”
“I did,” he says. “I didn’t even know how to ask.”
Ed lets out a wheezing little giggle, fingers toying with Stede’s hair at the nape of his neck. “Ordered a bunch of sex toys about it. Had me bring them to your door. Lunatic.”
“Not intentional, but I suppose it worked?”
“It did.” Ed kisses him again. “It did, yeah.”
They clean up after that, much more promptly when Ed realises his break is in fact over. They kiss all the way to the door, and outside it, and Ed seems reluctant to go at all, but he does swoop up Stede’s parcels on the way, promising he’ll be back tomorrow.
Tomorrow, fuck, well. Stede already knows what he needs to do.
~
It’s 11am, and Stede’s waiting on the porch again. He’s on his second cup of tea when Ed’s truck pulls up, and Ed hops out grinning like a man who’s never been happier.
Everything’s relative, one day to the next. Stede can make him even happier, he’s sure of that.
“No fancy little cakes today?” Ed asks, as he drops into the next chair. He leans over and Stede’s quite startled to discover that he goes directly for a kiss. Is this—is this what it’s like to be wanted? He winces as he leans across to meet it, and Ed’s lips have barely brushed his before he catches the expression and pulls back. “Shit, are you sore from yesterday? You okay?”
“Very okay,” he says, turning his cup on the saucer. Beyond the porch wall, the tiny strip of garden at the front of his place is lovely at this time of year, bees weaving drunkenly through the flowers in the warm sun, people wandering past in the street who lift a hand to greet him.
Ed’s staring at him quizzically, and he rakes his eyes down, and then snaps them back up again, wider. “You’re wearing a skirt.”
Stede tilts his head. “Mm, it’s probably more… kilt adjacent, but I suppose in principle, yes.” It’s a lovely deep green, with criss-crossed lines of deep blue and lighter teal. Knee-length and pleated, and after much consideration and many options tried in the mirror this morning, he’s gone for a fairly tight white t-shirt that shows off his chest and his shoulders, and a pair of laced brown hiking boots that bring the whole look together.
He’d swear Ed’s breathing a little quicker. “You did not.”
He looks up, tries not to move too much. “Didn’t I?”
Ed’s expression is shifting toward maniacal delight. “Oh, you are a mad one. Sitting right here like this, just waving hello to your neighbours.” One walks past just now, and Ed lifts his hand cheerfully, waves for the both of them. Under the table, he uses the toe of his boot to slowly, slowly lift Stede’s kilt, until it’s high enough over his hip to reveal that he’s not wearing anything under.
“Traditional,” he says, trying not to gasp. “Very normal not to wear anything under a kilt.”
Ed pokes his thigh with the boot, makes him tip a little sideways, and he does gasp on the rock back. Ed looks triumphant. “You just went straight to the fucking tentacle, didn’t you? What, four days of putting things in you, and you’re at the Kraken already?”
“I did a lot of prep,” Stede says, because this time he had followed all the instructions to a tee, and he’d taken his time opening himself up, and he’d eased the twisting, suckered limb inside himself slowly, slowly, in and out, until he’d finally taken it all. And then he’d brought it out here, and seated himself on it, and waited for Ed.
Ed rubs a hand over his chin. “Fuck.” He’s shifting in his seat. “Not playing fair now. I just have to sit here and watch you fuck yourself on my favourite toy?”
He lifts the teacup, little finger out. “You could have a cup of tea first.”
“First?” Ed’s brow jumps up. “What’s second?”
He’s been rehearsing this in his head all morning, convinced it’s going to sound silly. Maybe it will, but what he’s learned about Ed is, they seem to be precisely the same brand of silly, completely aligned in every way. He drops his voice and says, “I seem to have found myself captured by the Kraken. I need a dashing pirate captain to come to my rescue. Blackbeard, maybe.”
Ed huffs out a proper, growling laugh that makes Stede’s toes curl a little. He hooks one arm over the back of his chair, rubs his chin a little. “You know that might take you out of the frying pan and into the fire.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, mate. I have it on good authority that Blackbeard and the Kraken? They’re one and the same.”
“Preposterous,” he says, very indignant for a man with a silicone tentacle wedged up his ass. “I’ve seen him. He’s got very human legs.”
“Yeah,” Ed says, leaning closer. “And a real solid tentacle of his own.”
It’s—it might not be a good idea to laugh that hard around the tentacle. He ends up truly squirming, and Ed reaches out and touches his arm. “You need some help there?”
He nods. “Take me back to your cabin, captain. I’ll take whatever you’ve got to give me there.”
Ed just shakes his head, laughing. “How did we get all the way from mutual pining to tentacle role-play in like, two days?”
He shrugs mildly. “If you find the two absolutely perfect people…”
Because they are that, aren’t they? They just understand each other. This has been so easy, taking it further. Ed stands up out of his seat and offers Stede his hands, and he accepts them, lets Ed pull him up slowly, slowly, and the suction cup on the tentacle is thankfully strong enough that it holds, pulling out of him with the slick, wet suck of all the lubricant he’d applied.
So here he is, both hands in Ed’s, staring into his eyes.
“How do you feel?” Ed says.
And Stede might not be in possession of those particular eyes that are staring back at him, all star-spangled and deep as the night and mesmerising, but he looks up through his lashes as winningly as he can and says, honestly, a touch more needy than he intended, “So empty.”
Fuck around and find out, Lucius likes to crow sometimes, and Stede has a sudden, visceral understanding of what that means. Because Ed’s expression slides into an almost lust-drunk haze immediately, and then he’s swinging Stede around and almost prowling over him as he stumbles backwards under the pure hunger of that darkening gaze.
Ed stops him before he can back into the door, slings it open and pushes him through, spinning him as he goes. Hands on his hips, firm and large and hot, body big and solid against his back, the door slamming behind them, and he only makes it the ten steps across the room that it takes to hit the dining table before Ed’s shoving him face-down onto it, and rucking up his kilt.
“This okay?” Ed whispers, and he nods frantically, cheek against the table.
“Yes. Please. Please, Ed, please—“ He’s never heard himself beg so desperately, but he’s suddenly quite convinced that if he doesn’t get this man’s cock inside him in the next sixty seconds, he’s going to expire.
Ed’s pushed the kilt all the way to his waist now, and he groans as he slides his other hand down Stede’s backside. “Fuck, you should see yourself, all open and dripping.”
“Hnngh.”
Ed’s fingers are pushing inside him now, two of them sliding in easily, and oh, god, this is something he’s never done before, isn’t it? This is brand new and oh, Ed’s clever with his fingers, lightly stroking inside him, pressing deep, pulling back, and a moment later they touch a place that makes him yelp.
Ed just chuckles. “You’re in for a whole lot of discovery here, mate.”
“I want you,” he gasps out. “Inside me. Please. Now.”
Ed’s hands are off him suddenly, and he whines in protest, but a second later there’s the sound of a zip, of fabric hitting the floor, and then the crinkle of plastic, and right, yes, Ed’s right there, with his cock out, rolling a condom carefully down the length of it, and if Stede weren’t already lying on the table his knees might give out. Ed brought a condom, in his pocket. Ed came here today hoping for this.
“Only just got tested last week,” Ed says. “All negative, no partners in way too fucking long.”
Stede can’t see his face, and he needs to. He manages to shuffle himself over onto his back, like a very lazy sea-lion attempting to sunbathe on a rock, and looks up at Ed. “I haven’t been with anyone since Mary, but all was clear in my last physical.”
Ed beams at him. “Good to go, then.” He takes Stede by the hips and shoves him a little further back on the table, so his backside’s not dangling all the way off anymore, and then he hook’s Stede’s calves over his arms and presses closer. “You ready for this? Really?”
He nods. “Incredibly so.”
And then Ed is pressing the head of his cock into Stede’s body, jaw set in extremely focussed concentration, and then the rest. And oh, Stede’s had fingers and plugs and tentacles inside him this week, but nothing compares to the perfect, wonderful stretch of Ed’s cock as it fills him just exactly right.
Ed bottoms out with his head hanging down, hair dangling over Stede’s belly, tickling as it brushes him. He seems to be just breathing for a moment, hands planted on the table on either side, and Stede squeezes his thighs together around Ed’s hips, rocks a little. “Ed,” he moans. “Please.”
He looks undone when he looks up, and Stede catches his breath at the depth of emotion there. “Yeah, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
He moves slowly, steadily, firmly as he pulls back and thrusts in, and Stede loses himself to the feeling of it. It’s a sparkler flaring inside him, lighting the night, brighter and brighter until his toes are curling, and his hips are coming off the table, and Ed takes his cock in hand without breaking his rhythm, and in a only a minute or two the sensation is bursting into fireworks as he comes, babbling Ed’s name as he spills all over his stomach.
He’s still quivering through it when Ed grabs his hips harder and thrusts twice more, and then goes still as he pulses inside Stede, brow furrowed, mouth open on a silent cry.
He’s beautiful. He’s lovely. He’s here, choosing to be here, with Stede.
He’s not alone.
“Ed,” he says, the emotion suddenly rushing through him, and Ed holds up a finger. Eases himself out carefully, peels off the filled condom and ties it. Spots the trash can and takes it over there, drops it in, shuffles his shorts back up, and then he pulls Stede up off the table and enfolds him in the warmest, most loving hug of his life.
“Thank you,” Ed murmurs into his hair. “Fuck, that was good.”
He thinks about what Ed said a couple of days ago, about feeling pickier. He thinks about his own desperation to find what he needs, no idea what he was looking for, until it was delivered right to his doorstep. Nothing he could order on the internet, that’s for sure.
He wraps his arms tighter around Ed and holds him. “What if you came back after work?” Every day, he wants to say, but he bites his tongue. “What if you came back on the weekend, too?”
Ed snorts a laugh against him, and pulls back far enough to cup his cheek. “Technically never left, mate. Maybe I’ve always been here, in my heart.”
He nods, tearing up, because that’s something, to look at it like that. It’s not that Ed comes here, it’s that he goes, and he does come back, and he’s here.
“Then let’s make it a regular starting point on the route, shall we?”
“You’re a dork,” Ed says fondly, and kisses him softly, insistently again. “Love that. I’m all yours, no returns.”
And Stede, he's very sure, will never, ever get tired of making new discoveries with Ed.