Chapter Text
There had been a few times wherein Stede had considered downloading a dating application after the dissolution of his objectively shitty marriage, and there had always been something holding him back. Sometimes it was shyness, sometimes it was disinterest or lack of self confidence, or some other unnamable thing that would plant a seed of doubt in his mind.
This evening however, armed with a handle of Drambuie and a lack of inhibition, he’s decided to throw caution to the wind and to just fucking go for it.
December has been a lonely month for him. So has November, and October, and… Well, pretty much the whole fucking year has been one big disappointment after Mary ended up with custody of the kids, and Stede is determined not to go into the new year with nothing to look forward to or enjoy, so he considers this a leap of faith. He types in his password to download the app, watches as it slowly loads onto his phone, and with great anticipation, taps the icon to sign in.
The sign up process is relatively straightforward, he finds. Upload a profile photo – He chooses one of himself proudly standing at the helm of his sailing boat – Then just enter a few personal details, and then tick off the position option. He waffles for a while, unsure of what to choose, and eventually gives up and goes with what he considers the safe option; Top. That, at least, he figures he knows how to do.
The available profiles in the feed are, at first, overwhelming. Lots of men around his age, some of them with their arses and cocks fully out in their photos, but nothing in particular that piques his attention. The scrolling goes on for the better part of a quarter of an hour before he begins to feel a familiar sort of discontent creep in, coupled with a sense of self doubt. Maybe being gay just isn’t for me, he thinks to himself briefly, as if it’s just something he can switch off, like a light. Might as well be the case, he reckons, considering the seemingly innumerable amount of other things he’s ended up being not particularly skilled at.
It just feels so vast and unapproachable, a sprawling sea of pricks and holes and mouths and men and sexual tension not yet breached by even a single message and he has no idea where to start. He figures that most people using this app would have at least the courage to say hello, but the more he scrolls, the more difficult he finds that to do, until –
A pause.
A click.
BASILICA
56
1MI AWAY
ONLINE
Vers/Hookups
Stede swallows. The man in the photo wears a sort of leather studded x-shaped harness across his densely furred chest, his eyes turned to the camera in a deeply alluring smoulder, his silver streaked hair draped artfully across his temple and face.
Quickly, Stede swipes to the next photo. A boudoir style image, black and white and dramatically lit - this time, the figure in the image lays across a white rumpled bed sheet, hips coyly canted away from the viewer, back arched.
Stede feels his mouth water.
He swipes for an additional photo, but to his disappointment, finds none. The rest of the profile is sparse as well, only denoting things like “T4T” which Stede doesn’t understand, and a little blurb that reads “Cis men welcome if you like it rough.” which he only understands half of, and decides very quickly that he does like it rough, at least enough to appeal to the tastes of the profile owner.
Boldly, he knocks back a shot of scotch, grimaces at the tang of it, and begins typing a message.
CptBonnet: Hello :-)
“Christ, should have said something more interesting. Um.”
CptBonnet: I hope this isn’t too forward, you’ve got beautiful eyes.
CptBonnet: Sorry, I’ve never done this before.
Stede sighs deeply and drags his hand down over his face as he reads over the sent messages. The juxtaposition between courage and self doubt fluctuates like the turning tides in his stomach, and the lack of a response from the other party has pretty solidly made him feel like an utter arse. He bounces his knee nervously and refreshes the message, hoping for some kind of a response, but there is only silence.
Well, that was a good college try, he muses. He slumps against the back of the sofa and swirls the last few drops of scotch in his glass before downing them, resolving to just delete the app and live a modest life as a celibate hermit somewhere in some remote coastal town, or at sea, even. Or better yet, he figures that it’s never too late to simply launch himself off of a cliff. That could always be a viable option.
As he closes the application and goes to hold down the icon on his homescreen to delete it, a notification bubble pops up, accompanied by a very jarring trill. He very nearly drops his phone, but manages to only fumble it a few times before catching it upside-down and backwards, eventually righting it and unlocking it.
BASILICA: you cant be serious
BASILICA: of all the things you could send a bloke on this app you comment on eyes
Stede feels a sudden rush of panic and hope and delight rise in his chest all at once. Sure, he is being accosted by a stranger for his pathetic attempt at flirting, but hey, it certainly is a shot better than being ignored.
CptBonnet: You do have nice eyes!
BASILICA: this isnt christian mingle
CptBonnet: I don’t know what that is.
BASILICA: oh my god
BASILICA: dont you have a pic of your cock or anything
Well, talk about forward .
CptBonnet: I don’t, actually.
BASILICA: is it small
CptBonnet: That’s personal.
BASILICA: mate youre on a hookup app nothings personal
Stede stares at the screen. The man has a point, Stede hadn’t really considered that the app was geared more towards hooking up instead of dating, but it was the only option he knew of. Not that he has anything against hookups in particular, but this is very new territory for him. He worries the corner of his bottom lip before a tiny swell of excitement shoots through him at the prospect of showing a complete stranger his dick. This is the sort of thing people generally get in deep water over, he reckons, but fuck if the thrill of it doesn’t captivate him.
With liquid courage flowing through his veins, he sits his phone down to unbutton his chinos and work himself free of his underwear, kicking the offending articles of clothing under the coffee table.
He’s half-hard and growing, and thinking about what the other party might say once he manages to send the requested photo makes a soft flush of pink blossom across his cheeks. He actually isn’t sure if he’s small or not, he’s never measured against… well, anyone, so his guess is as good as any. He figures that if he is, and if it’s something to be embarrassed over, he’ll gladly take the L. As it turns out, he kind of likes being berated. That’ll be something to unpack later, he thinks to himself.
With a shaking hand, he retrieves his phone to snap the world’s most awkward dick pic, and before he has a second to consider whether or not this is an advisable course of action, sends it off to Basilica.
“God, I really did that,” he says to himself as he squeezes the base of his cock. Seconds later, the phone trills again.
BASILICA: holy fuck
BASILICA: thats such a shit picture but holy fuck
CptBonnet: I’m sorry.
BASILICA: how the hell do you hide that monster in your trousers
BASILICA: either your hands are absolutely miniscule or youre hung like a fucking horse
BASILICA: are you wearing fucking sock garters
CptBonnet: Should I not be?
BASILICA: christ
BASILICA: you call or nah
CptBonnet: Call?
BASILICA: yeah like facetime videocall etc
CptBonnet: Oh, yes I can do that.
Another thrill of excitement ramps up through his spine and into his muzzy brain as he types out his phone number for Basilica. He’s far past the point of no return at this juncture; if the other man ends up being some kind of stalker or psychopath killer, Stede’s fine with that so long as he gets his rocks off tonight.
A minute or two later, the phone buzzes to life with the tune of the ringer going off at full volume as an unrecognised number flashes across the screen. Stede takes a breath for himself and answers it, and is met with the visage of Basilica, lit only by his phone screen, clearly shirtless.
“Hey.”
“Ah. He-Hello, I’m Stede,” He offers, in the same tone of voice that a waiter would use upon meeting his dinner party. It’s utterly embarrassing.
Basilica rolls his eyes and quirks his lip up into a wry smile.
“Yeah, alright. Flip your camera around.”
Stede does as he’s told with no response or question, and once the camera focuses in on his cock, Basilica makes a low, gravelly, approving noise.
“Fuck. You’re fuckin’ massive.”
“A-Am I?”
“Come on, like you don’t know it.”
“I really don’t, I never – I mean, I’ve never measured, so –”
“Shut up. Stroke it.”
Stede very quickly shuts the hell up. He’s never been told what to do like this, certainly not in this context, and the utter thrill he gets from hearing Basilica’s thick rasp commanding him is enough to make his cock throb, which it does, and an absolutely fucking obscene drop of precome forms into a bead at the tip of his dick. He does as he’s told, phone camera aimed between his legs, and the tension begins to melt out of him as he lets Basilica take the reins.
“You said you’ve never done this before?”
“No, never, I actually just got -”
“ Ah ,” Basilica tuts, “No. Didn’t ask about anything else.”
“But –”
“I’ll hang up right now if you don’t shut it. Fuck your hand for me.”
Stede does as he’s told, obediently. He keeps his hand steady as he raises his hips to meet it, slowly forcing his cock through the tight squeeze of his fingers. There’s enough precome built up at the tip that when his cock throbs again, it wells up and dribbles down over his knuckles, easing the way. He hisses at the slick glide of it, and lets his head roll back. The hand holding the phone begins to droop, and Basilica admonishes him.
“Hey hey , focus. Fuckin’ show me what you’re doing with your cock, keep that camera still.”
“Yes, okay, sorry –”
“Yes sir,” He corrects.
“Y-yessir, ah –”
On the other end of the line, Basilica bites his lip and chuckles, dark and low. Stede’s never been more turned on in his entire life.
“You’re so easy. Thought your bio said you’re a top.”
“Well I, ngh –”
“I want you to fuck that hand until you’re just about to come. You tell me when you’re close.”
“I – I am close.”
“Already? Christ. Hands off, then.”
“Wh –”
“I said, stop.”
Once again, Stede does as he’s told, albeit with a bit of protest and groaning and whinging. Reluctantly, he takes his hand away, and his dick bobs obscenely at the lack of pressure and friction. A soft whimper escapes his lips, and another bead of precome drips languidly from the swollen head.
“There we go, good boy.”
Good boy sends a shock of unexpected pleasure through him, hearing that husky voice praise him and tell him he’s done something right makes him gasp. His hand flexes at his side and claws at the fabric of the sofa, and his toes curl. He’s right on the cusp, embarrassed at how little effort it takes to get him this worked up, but also dizzy with the salaciousness of it all. His head lolls back against the sofa and he breathes a shaky sigh, trying to steel himself.
“Right, that’s enough of a break, get back to it.”
Without a question or complaint, Stede’s hand flies back to his neglected cock and begins stroking away again, sliding slick and tight over the head, rubbing the swollen flesh with his thumb until he shivers with it. He works himself patiently, understanding the rules of the game, now. If he goes too fast, it’ll be over all too soon. If he bides his time and keeps his cool, who knows how long it’ll last.
“Nng, fuck –”
“You like that, yeah? Feels good?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Bet you’d like to fuck me like that, wouldn’t you?”
The proposition makes Stede whimper and strain against his hand. He knows nothing about this man, not even his real name. And yet, in the moment, he’d lick his boots if he were instructed to, and probably more, if commanded.
“G–God, yes, I, ah –”
“Bet you’d like it if I rode you and let you come inside me.”
“Oh, fuck –”
“Close?”
“Nn – Yeah, I –”
“Then stop.”
It’s physical and psychological torture. Stede is suddenly grateful for the fact that Basilica can only see his cock, and not the stupid, blissed out grin plastered across his face. He bites his lip and a weak little laugh escapes his lips from the absurdity of it all, the pace of it, the depravity of it. It’s the kinkiest thing he’s ever experienced and he never wants it to end. When he releases his cock again, he realises that he’s leaking like a tap. it drips onto the floor, little crystalline drops of slick, one after another. His dick twitches again and he can feel how close he is, even with his hand safely at his side.
“Please, I can’t, I have to –”
“You can, and you will. Wait. I’ll tell you when you can go again.”
“O-okay.”
“No. What did I just tell you?”
“Oh, y-yes sir.”
“Right. Get on with it, then.”
He’s not sure how much longer he can endure this. His stamina certainly isn’t what it used to be now that he’s pushing fifty, and the desire to come is so powerful. He can feel his balls tightening with every stroke, and he’s so desperate for it, a soft litany of ah, ah, ah – falls from his lips. He can feel his back arching, his lips parting, his breath growing shallow. And before he falls off of the precipice, he remembers.
“Gonna – God, I’m so close –”
“Stop.”
Stede whines with desperation but obediently withdraws his hand again, and re-focuses the camera on his cock, now reddened from the friction and as swollen as anything. It’s a fucking pillar, jutting out stiff and proud, twitching along with his jackrabbit heartbeat. It needs attention. Stede needs attention and he hovers his hand over the head before dropping it again and thrusting his hips desperately up into nothing, fucking the air.
“Please, I need –”
“Please what?”
“Mngh, please, sir.”
“Please sir what? Use your fuckin’ words.”
“Please sir, let me come, I need it. ”
Basilica rubs his chin and huffs. Stede can’t tell if he’s pleased or not; to be fair, he can’t tell much of anything. His brain is made of cotton and he’s wound as tight as a guitar string, panting hard and trying with his shaking hand to keep the camera as steady as possible.
“Show me. Let me see you do it.”
It’s an exercise in futility to keep the camera trained between his legs. He brings his shaking, slick-dampened hand back to his cock and wraps his fingers tightly around it, stroking himself roughly, shuddering with each pass, and then it happens - his orgasm crests over him in shocky waves, and he’s lost with it.
“Oh, f-fuh, fuck, fuck me, fuck - “
He trembles as thick ropes of white paint the coffee table and the carpet, one after another. It’s endlessly delicious, warm pulses of pleasure like he’s never known forcing his back into an arch, his thighs shaking, toes curled.
Miraculously, through it all, he’s managed to keep hold of the phone.
It takes a solid minute or two before he finds himself drifting back into the moment as the last startling pulses of pleasure leave him. He heaves a very satiated sigh, grinning from ear to ear, lazily stroking his slowly softening cock. It’s almost too sensitive, but still, it feels nice enough that he doesn’t quite want to stop. When he finally manages to flip his camera back around, he comes face to face with Basilica who is interestingly enough, a bit flushed.
“Well,” Stede tries, his tone bright and relaxed. “I rather enjoyed that.”
“Yeah, that’s fuckin’ apparent.”
“So, um.” Stede barely stops himself from offering up the old ‘ was it good for you too’ chestnut.
“I, um. Sorry, I just realised I didn’t get your name.”
“Don’t worry about it, you don’t need it,” Basilica snaps.
“Well, I just - “
And before Stede can pose the question of whether or not he’s done something to make Basilica seem so indifferent to the idea of exchanging names after having had, in his opinion, mind blowing phone sex –
The line goes dead.