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Summary
Ed had spent most of his formative years on ships. By the time he met Stede, the legendary Blackbeard had sea legs for days.
Wooden decks and billowing sails had become almost an extension of his body. He remained sure-footed even when timber strained and creaked. Moving with the push and pull of the sea became as natural to him as breathing.
A ship could heave and buck like an unruly horse as sheets of rain lashed the sails and thunder cracked overhead, and Ed would just shift his weight with the swaying deck, almost smiling at the sea's antics.
The touch of Stede's broad hands, the warm firm press of his thigh against Ed's groin—that storm made even him falter.
(Written for this prompt at ourflagmeanskink)
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Bookmark Notes:
He was fucking Blackbeard, and Stede was just— resting against him, docile and spent, his breath slowing.
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Bookmark Notes:
Tenderness
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Bookmark Notes:
fuck thats hot. thata really fucking hot