Benedict looks amused as he tries more of the ale, wanting to simply get through it.
"Rather, I simply want to not cross them somehow. For the sake of my own self-preservation."
Since he's certain that no matter how much they respect Silver, one accidental move could cause him significant harm, and he can't entirely count on Silver coming to his rescue. Though maybe, being a gentleman of London society, the governor and Max might have some say in keeping him unharmed. For the sake of the colony.
Benedict is smart, Silver will give him that--he's not even sure if the other realizes that the crew Silver is currently with isn't his. But he leans over to the table next to him, and with a few charmed words the card game moves over to Benedict and Silver's table, mostly because Silver can't be fucked to stand again. The crutch is cleared away, however, propped on the side of his chair instead of on the table like he usually likes to have it.
"I do hope you can play cards properly. Gambling is strictly forbidden the moment we hit water, so when the gentlemen like to let loose..."
And it begins. Two crew members--Janson and Mulroony--sit a little too close to Benedict, and Silver throws in a small bet and a small amount of coin. The other pirates do the same, and they look at Benedict expectantly.
"It seems like I wouldn't have a choice either way."
Benedict looks amicable enough, because them being pirates doesn't make them the scum of the earth - though some might argue that. Benedict is perfectly fine to give them the benefit of the doubt, though he does shift himself a bit away from the men sitting a touch too close for his liking. He's only just vaguely concerned one of them might find their fingers in his pocket, is all.
He looks at the coins on the table and realizes that even one of the buttons on his trousers is worth more than the sum of them. He has some notes on him, of course he does. Benedict doesn't leave home without at least a bit of currency, in case he should have to hire a cab to take him home or something of the like. He's cautious to not make it seem like he's carrying much money around - he's not, not by a long shot, but even just seeming like he is could make him a target. But having no coins himself, he has to place a note (just one, and thankfully not one worth too much) on the table, which is probably what was expected of him.
The first round is a bit of a flop, but soon enough Benedict relaxes, and it turns out the men they're playing with are quite funny and Benedict himself is quite good with jokes or a quick turn of phrase. It also turns out that Benedict is quite good at cards. It's what men usually do after dinner parties, or when they're at one of their clubs and drinking and smoking, or even at Henry's artist parties. Benedict doesn't even realize he's on to a new ale as they play.
For the most part, Rackham's crew seems to enjoy Benedict, mostly because he has money, but after a few awkward moments they're shouting and swearing and drinking and Silver finds himself joining in, too, treating Benedict like he's one of them, though at some point the foot on his good leg briefly touches the other's ankle under the table.
Silver's quite good at cards--he made a lot of money in the past doing so, mostly it's a matter of keeping a good poker face and talking while you count. Benedict, he finds halfway through the game, must be counting cards, too, and he'd be lying if he thought he wasn't just a little bit impressed. Perhaps Benedict's got a little bit of a wild side in him. Just a little. So Silver drinks--far too much for polite company, but he barely makes a dent in his sobriety--Silver enjoys Benedict fleecing other people until he starts losing to him. A crowd's started to gather, too.
Before he can attempt to win any of it back, Mulroney has seemingly had enough, accusing Janson of something-or-other, and Silver manages to anticipate the other's actions quick enough that he sticks the end of his crutch straight up, hitting Mulrony square in the chest before he can leap over the table, across Benedict, and punch Janson.
It only half works, because Janson takes a swing instead, and Silver looks at Benedict immediately.
If asked about it, Benedict will argue that it's not a wild side and more putting himself on the same level as his fellow players. Not that it seems to matter much anyway, because they're all having a good time, until an offence happens that Benedict doesn't quite catch. All he does know is that Silver has remarkable reflexes and Mulroney's face makes an odd sound once Janson's fist hits it.
Upstairs, indeed.
It's not until Benedict stands that he feels the effect of the ale hit him (he's had - what, three? four? He can't say, it seemed like his cup was never empty). He sways a bit and stumbles, unable to hide the laugh at himself as a fight starts to erupt. Someone defending Mulroney and someone else mad now that the scuffle's made him spill his drink. Benedict, fortunately, doesn't care about the winnings on the table as he finds his way to the stairs, gripping the railing to help him navigate them.
Inside Silver's room, Benedict laughs again, collapsing on to the bed.
"He punches like my sister," he says, looking too amused. "That's a compliment."
Silver, of course, between the scuffle and making sure Benedict got out of the way, has grabbed the cash--he's looking at Benedict fondly as the other tumbles back and laughs. He's drunk, or at the very least, incredibly tipsy. It's endearing. Benedict is endearing.
He limps his way to the other, sitting on the bed with a grunt. That's when he takes the money from his pocket and begins to count, talking as he does so.
"You are very good for my financial situation," he remarks, and because he can, he leans over to kiss Benedict on the cheek.
"You of all people shouldn't be surprised at what women are capable of."
Benedict moves a bit, less gracefully than usual since the lack of sobriety weighs him down, so he's kneeling on the bed next to where Silver is sitting.
"Most of that is mine, Mr. Silver," he teases. He knows he's been told to call him just Silver, but adding the mister before it adds a layer of coy playfulness that Benedict quite enjoy.
He plants a kiss to the corner of Silver's mouth (mostly because he misses the mouth entirely) and sits back on his heels with a pensive look.
"You left the table," Silver counters, and once he's satisfied he sets the money on the small water basin. He snatches the bottle of rum he usually keeps next to it, and is about to offer it to Benedict before he thinks better of it and takes a large swig himself.
Ale is fine, but he much prefers rum. He can't really imagine much of a life without it anymore. He does, however, find it in him to get a little more comfortable where he sits, placing his free hand in the other's hair, idly looking down and running is hands through it.
Jesus, Benedict looks good like this. Silver quirks a smile.
"Something's just occured to me," he says softly, and his hand moves from Benedict's hands to the other's jaw, gently tilting his head up. "I think you're the most dangerous man in in this very inn."
Benedict gazes up at Silver, an amused and easy grin spread across his face. He reaches out his hand to run along whatever part of Silver he can easily reach. His fingers toy absently with the buttons on Silver's shirt before he decides his hand is too heavy to hold up, so he lets it drop, which means he's brushing the intricate detail on the pirate's belt.
Silver's smile is still there, just a small trace of amusement reaching his eyes as the other looks at him. Benedict is soft, and curious, and unsullied by just how terrible the world is.
Silver should feel angry at him. Upset, maybe, or envious that someone has it far easier than he's ever had in his entire life. Silver was never one to resent anyone, but if he could, it would be someone like Benedict, who is kneeling and so deliciously supplicant, drunk on ale that's barely affected Silver himself and playing with his belt.
Instead, Silver finds himself moving the hand on Benedict's jaw so his thumb can trace the other's lips, his other hand slowly undoing his belt.
"Because at this moment, you're the only thing I find myself giving a damn about."
Benedict’s cheek flush, with want rather than shyness this time. He stares up at Silver as a shiver runs through him. No one has ever said anything quite like that to him, let alone looked at him the way Silver is. Benedict has no doubt that, at least in this moment, Silver means it.
“You should be careful, giving one man such power.”
Silver’s thumb is rough, and Benedict recalls the feeling of those sailor’s hands pulling at his hips. He presses his hands to Silver’s thighs and sits up more, trying to get a kiss from the other man.
It's gentle but firm: Silver puts the hand on the other's shoulder, stopping him from sitting up properly, eyes never leaving the others', face carefully neutral behind the glint in his eyes.
"I should," he agrees, and his thumb by Benedict's mouth presses down, urging the other to part his lips. He recognizes that wanting look reflected back at him, and he undoes his belt completely with his other hand before starting to undo the buttons on his breeches.
Benedict’s look of frustration is fleeting. He doesn’t want to be denied a kiss (or two) but he also finds that he’s enjoying the denial, or the way Silver gently commands him to do this or that. Maybe that’s why his lips part, or maybe they do it naturally while his breath catches in throat.
“I can do that for you,” he says at last, referring to Silver working free the buttons of his breaches. But Benedict doesn’t reach forward. He waits to see if Silver allows him too, which gives him another rush of adrenaline, pressing his fingers eagerly into Silver’s thighs where his hands rest.
Silver nods at that, moving his hand away, shifting so he's sitting a little straighter in the bed. Benedict looks delightful on his knees like that, something that makes the pirate king smirk despite himself, and he nods, pleasantly surprised.
He’s a little surprised that Silver’s allowing him. It registers in his face before he shifts forward, slipping the buttons free with relative ease despite his tipsiness.
“Undressed another man?” he asks, eyebrows raised, unsure if he’s meant to be amused by the question or not. “I can’t imagine how I could have, you being my first encounter with a man in these regards.”
Silver's chuckle is low, amused. "Not quite," he says simply, and is briefly worried about the other seeing the stump of his leg before he looks at the other's flushed appearance and everything is forgotten.
"If you want to make me happy," Silver makes sure the other has easy access to undo the buttons of his trousers, and his hand moves to smooth over the other's hair, running his fingers in it, "all you have to do is take me in your mouth and suck."
He pauses a moment, unsure if he’s misheard in his drunkenness. Benedict’s eyes flick down to look at where his hands have undone Silver’s buttons then back up to Silver’s eyes. And rather than find the idea offensive, he realizes he’s very, very into it.
This is absolutely the thrill that Silver had asked about earlier in the evening. To Benedict, there’s something inexplicably taboo about the thought - even more scandalous than their activities the other night.
“Surely it can’t be so simple as that.”
Benedict’s voice is breathy, betraying his excitement. He tugs down Silver’s trousers to free his cock and presses his tongue to his lip.
Benedict's eager, curious, and Silver finds himself running his hand through the other's hair encouragingly. It's not that simple, no, and there's more to it, but Silver figures he has to ease Benedict into these things.
"It's not very hard to make a man come," he says plainly, though his voice is softer as the other tugs down his trousers. There's something about this, something about how innocent but willing the other is that thrills Silver.
He takes the back of Benedict's head, gently guiding him towards his cock, looking down at him expectantly.
It may not be difficult, but Benedict can admit he's a perfectionist, and it will bother him if he doesn't do a somewhat decent job of it. Fortunately, Silver seems to be fine with guiding him along, which gives Benedict a bit of a confidence boost.
Anyway, it's not as if he has much time to hesitate. Benedict tries to think back to the very few times he's been on the receiving end of this, and if he could remember some sort of tip or trick. Unfortunately, all he can really recall is how good it felt.
He glances up at Silver again as his lips press to the head of Silver's cock, and without putting too much thought into everything (he's pretty sure overthinking it will ruin it), parts his lips to take it into his mouth.
It's a start, and Silver's chest rises and falls in anticipation, pleased the other's decided to go for it. There's something about the line of his dimples; the way they look as the other's lips part.
"All of it, if you can," he urges, his voice a low rumble as he continues to stroke the other's hair.
Benedict hums a little, having no idea how he can possibly do that. But he's willing to try, figuring he's come as far as having it in his mouth anyway. Unfortunately he finds that, after taking a little more, he has to pull back abruptly to cough.
Silver looks down at the other, eyes alight, the briefest of smiles flickering on his face. He moves his hand to cup the other's cheek, surprisingly soft despite rough hands.
"It takes practice--don't force yourself. Suck on it, lick it like you would a peppermint stick."
Somehow, having to instruct the other--being the other's first--it sends a thrill down Silver's spine. Benedict is deliciously naive, and the thought of those lips around his cock is enough for him to gently urge the other once more.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Benedict looks amused as he tries more of the ale, wanting to simply get through it.
"Rather, I simply want to not cross them somehow. For the sake of my own self-preservation."
Since he's certain that no matter how much they respect Silver, one accidental move could cause him significant harm, and he can't entirely count on Silver coming to his rescue. Though maybe, being a gentleman of London society, the governor and Max might have some say in keeping him unharmed. For the sake of the colony.
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"I do hope you can play cards properly. Gambling is strictly forbidden the moment we hit water, so when the gentlemen like to let loose..."
And it begins. Two crew members--Janson and Mulroony--sit a little too close to Benedict, and Silver throws in a small bet and a small amount of coin. The other pirates do the same, and they look at Benedict expectantly.
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Benedict looks amicable enough, because them being pirates doesn't make them the scum of the earth - though some might argue that. Benedict is perfectly fine to give them the benefit of the doubt, though he does shift himself a bit away from the men sitting a touch too close for his liking. He's only just vaguely concerned one of them might find their fingers in his pocket, is all.
He looks at the coins on the table and realizes that even one of the buttons on his trousers is worth more than the sum of them. He has some notes on him, of course he does. Benedict doesn't leave home without at least a bit of currency, in case he should have to hire a cab to take him home or something of the like. He's cautious to not make it seem like he's carrying much money around - he's not, not by a long shot, but even just seeming like he is could make him a target. But having no coins himself, he has to place a note (just one, and thankfully not one worth too much) on the table, which is probably what was expected of him.
The first round is a bit of a flop, but soon enough Benedict relaxes, and it turns out the men they're playing with are quite funny and Benedict himself is quite good with jokes or a quick turn of phrase. It also turns out that Benedict is quite good at cards. It's what men usually do after dinner parties, or when they're at one of their clubs and drinking and smoking, or even at Henry's artist parties. Benedict doesn't even realize he's on to a new ale as they play.
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Silver's quite good at cards--he made a lot of money in the past doing so, mostly it's a matter of keeping a good poker face and talking while you count. Benedict, he finds halfway through the game, must be counting cards, too, and he'd be lying if he thought he wasn't just a little bit impressed. Perhaps Benedict's got a little bit of a wild side in him. Just a little. So Silver drinks--far too much for polite company, but he barely makes a dent in his sobriety--Silver enjoys Benedict fleecing other people until he starts losing to him. A crowd's started to gather, too.
Before he can attempt to win any of it back, Mulroney has seemingly had enough, accusing Janson of something-or-other, and Silver manages to anticipate the other's actions quick enough that he sticks the end of his crutch straight up, hitting Mulrony square in the chest before he can leap over the table, across Benedict, and punch Janson.
It only half works, because Janson takes a swing instead, and Silver looks at Benedict immediately.
"Upstairs."
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Upstairs, indeed.
It's not until Benedict stands that he feels the effect of the ale hit him (he's had - what, three? four? He can't say, it seemed like his cup was never empty). He sways a bit and stumbles, unable to hide the laugh at himself as a fight starts to erupt. Someone defending Mulroney and someone else mad now that the scuffle's made him spill his drink. Benedict, fortunately, doesn't care about the winnings on the table as he finds his way to the stairs, gripping the railing to help him navigate them.
Inside Silver's room, Benedict laughs again, collapsing on to the bed.
"He punches like my sister," he says, looking too amused. "That's a compliment."
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Silver, of course, between the scuffle and making sure Benedict got out of the way, has grabbed the cash--he's looking at Benedict fondly as the other tumbles back and laughs. He's drunk, or at the very least, incredibly tipsy. It's endearing. Benedict is endearing.
He limps his way to the other, sitting on the bed with a grunt. That's when he takes the money from his pocket and begins to count, talking as he does so.
"You are very good for my financial situation," he remarks, and because he can, he leans over to kiss Benedict on the cheek.
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Benedict moves a bit, less gracefully than usual since the lack of sobriety weighs him down, so he's kneeling on the bed next to where Silver is sitting.
"Most of that is mine, Mr. Silver," he teases. He knows he's been told to call him just Silver, but adding the mister before it adds a layer of coy playfulness that Benedict quite enjoy.
He plants a kiss to the corner of Silver's mouth (mostly because he misses the mouth entirely) and sits back on his heels with a pensive look.
"Does anyone ever call you John?"
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Ale is fine, but he much prefers rum. He can't really imagine much of a life without it anymore. He does, however, find it in him to get a little more comfortable where he sits, placing his free hand in the other's hair, idly looking down and running is hands through it.
Jesus, Benedict looks good like this. Silver quirks a smile.
"Something's just occured to me," he says softly, and his hand moves from Benedict's hands to the other's jaw, gently tilting his head up. "I think you're the most dangerous man in in this very inn."
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Benedict gazes up at Silver, an amused and easy grin spread across his face. He reaches out his hand to run along whatever part of Silver he can easily reach. His fingers toy absently with the buttons on Silver's shirt before he decides his hand is too heavy to hold up, so he lets it drop, which means he's brushing the intricate detail on the pirate's belt.
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Silver should feel angry at him. Upset, maybe, or envious that someone has it far easier than he's ever had in his entire life. Silver was never one to resent anyone, but if he could, it would be someone like Benedict, who is kneeling and so deliciously supplicant, drunk on ale that's barely affected Silver himself and playing with his belt.
Instead, Silver finds himself moving the hand on Benedict's jaw so his thumb can trace the other's lips, his other hand slowly undoing his belt.
"Because at this moment, you're the only thing I find myself giving a damn about."
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“You should be careful, giving one man such power.”
Silver’s thumb is rough, and Benedict recalls the feeling of those sailor’s hands pulling at his hips. He presses his hands to Silver’s thighs and sits up more, trying to get a kiss from the other man.
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"I should," he agrees, and his thumb by Benedict's mouth presses down, urging the other to part his lips. He recognizes that wanting look reflected back at him, and he undoes his belt completely with his other hand before starting to undo the buttons on his breeches.
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“I can do that for you,” he says at last, referring to Silver working free the buttons of his breaches. But Benedict doesn’t reach forward. He waits to see if Silver allows him too, which gives him another rush of adrenaline, pressing his fingers eagerly into Silver’s thighs where his hands rest.
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"Have you done this before?"
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“Undressed another man?” he asks, eyebrows raised, unsure if he’s meant to be amused by the question or not. “I can’t imagine how I could have, you being my first encounter with a man in these regards.”
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"If you want to make me happy," Silver makes sure the other has easy access to undo the buttons of his trousers, and his hand moves to smooth over the other's hair, running his fingers in it, "all you have to do is take me in your mouth and suck."
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This is absolutely the thrill that Silver had asked about earlier in the evening. To Benedict, there’s something inexplicably taboo about the thought - even more scandalous than their activities the other night.
“Surely it can’t be so simple as that.”
Benedict’s voice is breathy, betraying his excitement. He tugs down Silver’s trousers to free his cock and presses his tongue to his lip.
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"It's not very hard to make a man come," he says plainly, though his voice is softer as the other tugs down his trousers. There's something about this, something about how innocent but willing the other is that thrills Silver.
He takes the back of Benedict's head, gently guiding him towards his cock, looking down at him expectantly.
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Anyway, it's not as if he has much time to hesitate. Benedict tries to think back to the very few times he's been on the receiving end of this, and if he could remember some sort of tip or trick. Unfortunately, all he can really recall is how good it felt.
He glances up at Silver again as his lips press to the head of Silver's cock, and without putting too much thought into everything (he's pretty sure overthinking it will ruin it), parts his lips to take it into his mouth.
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"All of it, if you can," he urges, his voice a low rumble as he continues to stroke the other's hair.
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"Not so simple at all."
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"It takes practice--don't force yourself. Suck on it, lick it like you would a peppermint stick."
Somehow, having to instruct the other--being the other's first--it sends a thrill down Silver's spine. Benedict is deliciously naive, and the thought of those lips around his cock is enough for him to gently urge the other once more.