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You shouldn’t get involved.
That’s what you tell yourself. Just let Stede have his sad moment. He never listens to your advice and so far your involvement with Stede has gotten you nearly killed at least five times (and counting), and while you can’t really blame your amputated finger on him, you do, anyway. He’ll be fine. It’s not like anyone expected his thing with Blackbeard to last. Like, it’s Stede.
But then you’re patting his knee and telling him I’m fantastic at breakups and that you’ll handle everything.
“Break-up?” Stede questions, his voice gone all wobbly. He doesn’t realize his heart has been broken.
Too bad you’re the one who has to tell him.
In the last month Blackbeard has moved his life over here bit by bit. Stede follows you around the cabin as he points to things that belong to Blackbeard. That. Oh this too. This… knifey thing?
You look at the cream-colored silk undershirt Stede handed you, then to him. “This is not his.”
“Ed liked it,” Stede says, “so I gave it to him.”
“Not anymore.” You toss it over your shoulder — Stede grumbles and picks it up from the floor. “This isn’t to charm him. It’s to show him you’re moving on. That you don’t give a shit.”
“But I do give a shit. Several, actually. Perhaps I should go over myself and talk to—”
“No.” You have a migraine forming between your eyes. “Trust me. This drives men bonkers. He’ll come crawling back to you on his hands and knees.”
Stede heaves a sigh, and then collapses onto the sofa. “Oh, this won’t work. I’m annoying and stupid and— and ugly—”
“I’m going to stop you right there.”
By some miracle, Stede quiets.
“None of that’s true,” you say. Okay, yes. Stede is annoying, but he’s endearing. He’s grown on you. That makes him sound like mold on bread. Hm. Regardless, he sure as hell isn’t stupid and he’s definitely not ugly, and Stede is vain enough to know this.
“It is.”
Oh, god. This is going to be one of those longer conversations, isn’t it? Time for a feelings check.
You sit next to him. He closes in tighter on himself. The poor guy is twisting himself into knots trying to put what he’s feeling into words. Or even believe. You recognize it, though.
“Ed likes you.”
The guy as much as told you this. Not that he had to. You do have eyes.
“He doesn’t,” Stede says. “He thinks I’m silly and I… don’t look like the kind of guy Ed usually associates with.”
Look like? That’s kind of an odd point to fixate on, but then you figure it out. “You’re worried Blackbeard doesn’t think you’re hot.”
Stede’s face goes pink and yep, that’s it. He says, “I’m not sure why I care if Ed thinks I’m attractive.”
“Stede.”
He can’t meet your gaze. He speaks to his lap. “Calico said he’s had dalliances with Ed.”
Revulsion creeps up in your throat, because ick , but then you think about it some more and: kinda hot?
You don’t mention: proves Blackbeard does have a type, and it’s blond and ridiculous.
“He said, anything goes at sea.” Stede frowns. “I’m not ignorant of the relationships men form out here. Having the companionship of another when there’s no other option. Except…”
He’s right there. So close to the truth. You edge in closer and he doesn’t withdraw so you take that chance. You put your hand on his knee. You tell him, “It’s okay.”
It will.
“I don’t think it’s just the sea for me.” Stede looks up at you. “Do you understand what I mean?”
He whispers it, like he’s afraid anyone else could hear. Fear that if he tells the wrong person he’d get a noose around his neck. Mistake friendly camaraderie for flirting and get violently killed. Trust another but he gets scared and marries a woman and tells you, I suggest you get your life together as well.
So yeah, you understand.
You return from your meeting with Blackbeard. You didn’t die. Hurrah!
Stede hasn’t changed out of his nightie, but he’s brushed his hair, so: progress.
“What did he say?” he asks you.
“He totally likes you.” You wave your hand at him. “He likes your everything.”
Stede’s knees go out from under him and he clutches his chest and he lowers himself onto the sofa and you worry for a second you broke him. “He said that?”
“Not… in so many words, but he does.”
Blackbeard has it so so bad for Stede, to the point where it’s embarrassing, but he’s also an idiot and you begin to wonder if he won’t come back. Blackbeard doesn’t seem the type to apologize or debase himself to chase after a guy who didn’t get his dick wet after weeks and weeks of their weird courtship.
You prepare Stede for this. Say, he’s a goddamn idiot, and doesn’t know what he’s missing.
“He does,” Stede says. “Why would anyone want me?”
You get on your knees.
Stede got half hard with just the suggestion, I’d have you . You’ve had enough of the self-deprecation so you’ve decided to give the man a reason to be confident. Everyone can use a good rebound, especially when their ex is Blackbeard, who isn’t really an ex-anything at all.
And you find his desperation a little sexy.
You push his nightie up and how about that? His dick is really nice, long and pink and thick. You compliment it, which makes Stede scoff so you double down, I mean it. You touch it to make him believe it, wrapping your hand around and stroking him until he’s leaking over your fist and making these whimpery gasping noises that make you concerned he might blow his load already.
That’s not what you intended, so you slow down. Stede grumbles a complaint but then you take his cock in your mouth and he rattles out, “Oh, god,” and you know that you have him right where you want him.
A lot of people think cocksucking is an act of submission but you’ve never seen it that way. Get a man’s dick in your mouth and you could make him do anything. It’s putting the most delicate bits between your teeth and knowing they’ll beg for more. You’re good at this, and you know it.
Stede lifts from up from the seat, trying to fuck further in. You have a lax gag reflex, but still. You push him down at his hips. He apologizes, bless him. You suck him better to let him know he’s forgiven.
His hand rests on your head. A little unsure. He shouldn’t be. You moan around him, muffled, mouth full. More sure, his hand goes to the side of your face. Gentle, like how a lover would touch you.
You look up at him. His eyes are closed. He’s probably thinking of Blackbeard.
That’s okay.
You swallow when he comes and it tastes not bad, with all that fruit he eats and his disdain for tobacco. He cries a little, covering his face, taking in deep breaths to calm himself.
Not the first time you’ve changed a man’s life by sucking his cock.
You stand up. Clear your throat. “I guess I’ll—”
“Don’t go!” Stede wipes his face with his sleeve. “Stay?”
You stay. Sit next to him. Don’t make an effort to conceal your hard-on proud in your trousers.
He notices.
“Can I?” he asks, and you nod because you aren’t going to turn down a handy from the Captain. You shove your pants down just enough to free yourself and then he’s got his hand on you, and it’s clumsy — clearly he’s never held anyone other than himself — but it’s enthusiastic and that’s more than enough to get you there.
“What’re you thinking of?”
Stede hasn’t said anything, after. Just… staring. In a dick daze.
“That I’m an idiot,” Stede says.
“I thought we were done with the pity party.” Do you need to suck him off again?
“But I am,” he says. “I could have been doing that for ages.”
You laugh. It seems to give Stede the boost he needed — he slaps your leg and says, “Well, I suppose we should get going, huh?
See? He’s going to be fine.
Another near death experience that may turn into a real death experience that’s entirely Stede Bonnet’s fault, but you figured your life would never be long anyway. Better to die young while you’re still flexible and hot than when you’re all crusty and can’t get your dick up.
But: Blackbeard came back. He’s grinning like a lunatic at Stede and Stede is too, right back at him. They’re getting manhandled by the English Navy but they’re having a moment. Probably don’t even realize what’s going on.
“Told you so,” you say to Stede but you don’t think he hears you. You’ll tell him again later. You love being right.