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If he’s honest with himself, Ed has given a lot of thought to how he’d want his first time with Stede to be like. Stede is a man of fine taste, and he deserves all the fine things, like candles for ambiance and Ed fresh from a scented bath lounging sensually in a soft robe in his bed. And they could take their time exploring one another, Ed discovering all those little sensitive spots that make Stede’s breath hitch in the most alluring way. And they’d hold each other close while Stede pushes inside of him agonizingly slow, almost torturous. “That’s it, darling, take all of me, ” Stede would whisper against the shell of his ear, and Ed would wrap his legs around Stede’s waist and kiss him until his lips go numb, until it becomes more like breathing into each other’s mouths as they come together.
(Ed knows this is unrealistic, but hey, it’s his fantasy, leave him be.)
The point is, Ed has given a lot of thought to how he'd make it good for Stede, who has never held another man, who has never been held the way he deserves. He’s been thinking about it with increasing frequency since Stede’s return, even in the face of his request to take things slow, something he still wants to stick by. There’s no harm in thinking of the future, though, and he’s still a man with wants and desires who needs a little extra material to get himself off, sometimes.
He thinks things may have continued on a path towards that conclusion, had he not just witnessed Stede kill a man.
“Give him a minute,” Izzy says from somewhere behind him. His voice is so shocking to hear in the moment that Ed whirls around on instinct. “First kill’s always a mind-fuck.”
And he knows he should wait, hang back for a few minutes to give Stede a bit of breathing room, but how is he supposed to do that when he’d seen the pain in Stede’s face as he walked off towards his quarters? No, Stede needs him, and whatever he can do for Stede he’s going to do it, because none of this would have happened if he hadn’t goaded Ned into hunting him down by breaking his record. And that had been what he’d wanted at the time, but it’s different now, another nightmare he’s inflicted upon Stede and his crew. He hesitates for half a second before he leaves the crew behind in favor of following Stede.
Ed has never comforted another person before. Pirates offer each other comfort in the way of a pat on the shoulder, an arm punch, maybe sex if they’re close enough. On any other ship just letting emotions be known is a viable reason for someone to stab you, so no, Ed has never had to do this, doesn’t really know how or where to start, at least not with words.
He knocks before he even knows what he’s going to say, and Stede answers, expression still beset by worry lines long etched into the skin of a man who has had little to truly be happy about in his life. It’s hard to see him this way, but Ed does his best to appear unaffected.
“Hey. You okay?” he asks, because that’s a safe start, right? Stede has checked in on him like that before, seems like the right thing to do, at least until Stede doesn’t answer, watching Ed with pained, watery eyes. He sighs, continues, hoping to relate on some level. “Look, I was a wreck after my first kill as well. I mean, well, it was my dad, so there’s that—”
Stede grabs him by the lapels of his leather jacket before he even clocks it, whips him around and into the room, sadness never leaving his face but there’s something else there now too, something that makes Ed’s heart pound a little harder. This is what love looks like , he thinks, a little deliriously, still reeling as Stede presses him into the nearest wall. Stede loves him, and he needs him, and Ed would do anything to see that look without the veil of anguish clouding over it.
He’s searching for something in Ed’s face. Ed can hear his own voice as he’d asked before, can we take it slow , and sometimes it’s just nice to be patient and wait .
This isn’t what he’d had in mind, not even close. But he loves Stede — he loves him — and Stede needs him, and maybe he needs Stede more in this moment than he wants to admit to himself.
Stede’s still searching in Ed’s face, and Ed nods, and only then does Stede crack the slightest smile before he surges forward to kiss him, desperate, at the same moment that Ed pulls him in. He wraps one arm around the back of Stede’s neck and the other around his waist to keep him close even as he tells himself that Stede deserves far better than this. But Stede kisses Ed with an intensity he’s never known, like his lips are the anchor to keep Stede moored in this storm between them. It's a stark contrast to the hand that finds the back of Ed's head and cradles it, far gentler than the last time they'd kissed.
“Ed,” Stede gasps, finally breaking his silence. Ed almost wishes he hadn’t, never wants to hear his name spoken from Stede’s lips with any measure of grief again. Fuck.
“I’m here,” he says, softly. It tickles when his lips brush against Stede’s, but they’re so hesitant to break apart. He feels as if they’re subconsciously trying to meld themselves into one being, never to part again. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
Stede lets out a shuddering breath and his eyes soften to something Ed feels familiar with. There’s the barest hint of a smile on his face, thankfully. “I had to,” he says, voice thick. There's a distinct please don’t hate me quality threaded into it. “My crew—”
“I know,” says Ed. It’s a lie. Stede didn’t have to. Sure, Ed had said he wasn’t worth the poison. But Izzy would have gladly done it, or any member of the crew. They could have given him over to his crew, let them tear him to shreds. But it was Stede who made him walk. Because of Ed. He tugs at Stede’s shirt where it’s tucked in; Stede is quick to shrug the shirt off over his head to be able to close the distance between them again. And then Ed’s hands are on warm skin, roaming over strong biceps and a barrel chest dusted with light hair.
Stede kisses him like he’s afraid he’ll never get another chance. There’s no technique behind it, only raw want but that’s more than enough when Ed can meet him halfway, flicking his tongue over the seam of Stede’s mouth to remind him that he can, in fact, part his lips for kissing. Then again, he suspects Stede’s never kissed anyone with more than the barest peck, including his ex wife. But when he feels he has permission, Stede chases Ed’s tongue like he’s addicted, and he begins to gather enough courage to try things out for himself, like the way he tugs on Ed’s lower lip with his teeth oh so gently, dragging a groan from Ed’s throat.
The sound seems to put renewed confidence into Stede, who trails kisses to the corner of Ed’s mouth and traces the sharp curve of his jaw with lips and teeth and tongue. By the time he’s mouthing at the pulse point of Ed’s throat he’s nearly melted into the wall under the comforting weight of Stede’s body pressing to his. And he is pressing into him, Ed feels the hard bulge of Stede’s cock pressing into the junction of his hip. Every nerve in his body lights up under Stede’s touch, a fuzzy, tingling sensation everywhere Stede’s hands wander, to his hair, his lower back, his chest, his hips… He wants it all, anything Stede asks for, he’ll gladly give it, he’s too far gone to take it slow anymore.
“What do you need?” Ed asks. He should have asked this from the start probably, but Stede turned all his thoughts into mush the moment Ed’s back hit the cabin wall.
Stede holds his stare, still glassy-eyed with tears and love in equal measure. "You – just you,” he says, closes the distance between them again and Ed can’t wait any longer, not with a confession like that.
“Do you want to take me to bed?” Ed asks, whispers really, against the skin just below Stede’s jaw before he drags his teeth over the spot and pulls a hypnotizing groan from between Stede’s lips.
Stede answers by grabbing Ed’s jacket again and tugging him towards the bed. He’s smiling into each kiss they share on the way, stopping them in their tracks until they remember their destination. Stede slides the jacket from Ed’s shoulders and discards it somewhere on the floor; Ed could give a fuck, fuck that fucking jacket.
Ed climbs into bed as Stede toes off his boots and goes for the curtains. Outside the window he sees a shower of color, someone (Roach or Wee John, he’d wager) setting off fireworks from the deck. They set Stede’s firm back, all sun-tanned and freckled, in a silhouette that changes hues with each loud boom. Ed is no poet, no great writer like those who used to fill the shelves in this now-bare room. All he can say is Stede is beautiful .
And Stede turns to him, a flash of pink-purple washing over his skin as he climbs over him, hands reaching for Ed like he’ll die if he doesn’t get his hands on Ed’s body immediately. Ed feels much the same way, honestly. Stede’s touch brings a relief he hadn’t known he’d needed, the way he runs his hands down Ed’s sides and up again, into his hair, taking his head in his hands as he kisses him again, swallowing the surprised gasp straight from Ed’s lungs.
He hasn’t been this hard just from making out since he was a bumbling teenager. Ed would maybe be embarrassed if Stede wasn’t just as aroused. The slide of their bodies puts delicious friction between them; fuck, if Ed could just get a hand between them, undo both of their fall fronts…
Stede's hands catch on the hem of his shirt and slide it up to expose his soft stomach, the ship tattoo on his sternum. Ed gets where he’s going with this and shrugs the shirt off over his head, falls back onto the pillows. He feels weirdly self-conscious as Stede’s eyes rake over his form, hands paused along his sides, taking in everything before him. But Stede looks at him like he’s trying to burn the image into his retinas. He swallows hard before dipping down and pressing a gentle kiss just above Ed’s navel.
Holy shit , it shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but nobody has ever touched him this gently before, the way he’s seen Stede run his fingers over fine fabrics. Delicately. Reverently. Precisely the way Ed doesn’t expect someone to touch a deadly pirate, but with Stede he’s always been just Ed. And Stede knows Ed better than anyone ever has.
Ed sucks in a sharp breath as Stede makes a path up his sternum and the pad of his thumb brushes over a nipple. Stede snaps his head up to look at him. His pupils are blown with desire; Ed already knows that by the minute rocking of Stede's hips against his thigh, but it's astounding to see it written so plainly in his face. He's so distracted that he actually moans when Stede pinches his nipple fairly hard, then soothes the spot with gentle caresses.
"Fuck, Stede." He bites his lower lip to try to keep the sounds in, but then Stede's mouth finds his again ( this smooth motherfucker ) and any sound held meant to keep quiet spills into the space between them. Thank whomever for continuing to light fireworks; surely the crew can't hear them down here. Ed would never live it down.
Only when Ed has sufficiently melted into the bed does Stede's hand search for the buttons of Ed's pants, and it's about time, he's been struggling to keep it together every time Stede moves against him with any amount of pressure.
"Is this okay?" Stede asks. He could be talking about taking Ed's leathers off, or the implications for what they're clearly working up to. The answer is yes either way, and Ed makes a sound that's close enough to a yes accompanied with a nod that Stede sits up enough to work at the buttons.
"Yours too," Ed adds belatedly as he lifts his hips to help Stede shimmy the leather down his thighs. Stede doesn't give any indication of hearing him though, hands firmly gripping just above Ed's knees, swallowing hard at the sight of Ed's cock. It occurs to Ed that of course, Stede's never been confronted with this sort of situation, but Stede saw his dick literally the day they met when they'd switched clothes, giggling at their own little joke, in the auxiliary wardrobe.
Well, he wasn't fully hard then like he is now, all flushed and thick and desperate to be touched. Ed is worried for all of three seconds, because after that Stede leans down to kiss him roughly before hurrying to get his own pants off. His cheeks are tinged a lovely shade of red and his hands shake. Ed would gladly help but Stede's sitting on his thighs and his pants are still caught around his knees, so he lies back to enjoy Stede's frantic need to get their clothes out of the way.
And when they’re finally rid of their clothes, Stede wastes no time closing the distance between their bodies again, and the warmth of bare skin on his own has Ed itching for however far Stede wants to take this. When Stede’s hand finds Ed’s hip, tracing over an old tattoo, meeting Ed’s eyes like a question, of course Ed nods encouragingly. Stede trails further until his fingertips brush over dark gray pubic hair. Ed sucks in a breath, curses under his breath because Stede is one hell of a tease.
Stede finally wraps his hand around Ed’s cock and it’s such a relief Ed feels like he could die happy just like this. Although he’d really like it more if Stede started moving his hand, but instead he purses his lips and says, “How do you want me to…” and lets his sentence linger into nothingness.
“Same as you’d do it yourself,” Ed tells him. Stede pouts a little, and Ed leans up to kiss his furrowed brow. “Here, try it this way…” He slips a hand between the two of them to take Stede’s cock in his hand, presses it against his own and encourages Stede to put his hand around both, keeping his own on top and starting with some slow strokes. Stede gasps at the sensation and closes his eyes at the same moment he takes a shuddering breath.
“God, Ed,” Stede says under his breath. Ed finds Stede’s shoulder, feels him arch his back as he slides their cocks through their joined hands; it exposes his throat, all blotchy and red where Ed’s mouth has already been. He takes advantage by sucking a bruise into the spot just below his pulse point. Stede’s moan reverberates against Ed’s lips, sending shivers down to his toes. It seems to encourage Stede to bury his face into Ed’s hair, mouthing desperately at his jaw and throat as he strokes them together.
It isn’t like this is something new for Ed, but he can’t remember the last time it felt this good — maybe never. The comfortable pressure of Stede’s body on top of his, their fingers laced together and stroking themselves and each other, feeling connected in a way that makes Ed’s throat feel tight with words he’s not ready to say. All he knows is he’s drunk on every little sound that slips through Stede’s panting breaths and the slide of their bodies, the way Stede grinds his hips into him, chasing his pleasure.
He can tell Stede is paying attention to him too, searching for each place, each touch that elicits a reaction. His free hand finds Ed’s nipple again and rubs and pinches, fascinated by the way Ed’s breath hitches. When he drops his forehead to Ed’s chest and flicks his tongue over the sensitive spot, gently scrapes his teeth over it at the exact moment the pad of his thumb grazes through the slick precome gathering at the tip of his cock, Ed is so unprepared that he wonders if the groan that escapes him can be heard from the top deck.
"Fuck me,” he breathes, flopping back onto the pillow. He’s achingly hard, the head of his cock sliding over the underside of Stede’s with each push of his hips, but a delirious part of him thinks he wouldn’t mind if Stede kept him on the knife edge of pleasure all night, if this is how good it feels.
"Is that a request or just an exclamation?" Stede teases. It's the most he's said since Ed's come to his quarters, but it sounds so like the Stede before all of this that Ed lets out a surprised laugh. Stede smiles too, and Ed sees in it the man who had tucked a piece of red satin into his breast pocket long months ago, made him feel like he could be worth more than the reputation he’d grown tired of.
He loved him then. He loves him now.
"Both, I think,” he says. Because now that Stede’s put that thought into his mind, actually fuck being edged all night, he needs to feel Stede fill him up more than he needs air. “You’ve thought about it before, yeah?”
Stede stills and his face goes red. It’s cute; Ed wonders what else he can say to get him good and flustered. But that’s a thought to explore another time, another day. “I’ve… had thoughts.”
Ed raises an eyebrow. “And?” Because if they’re going to do this, Ed needs to hear Stede say it.
Stede opens his mouth and closes it. Tries again and says, “I’ve thought about making love to you.”
Love . He shouldn’t be surprised that Stede would phrase it like this. If he’s been thinking about having sex with Ed, of course it’s been tender and passionate, full of whispered admissions of adoration, the kind to be shared between the protagonists of all the romance books Stede had kept. Making love .
Ed has those same sort of thoughts. He never let himself call it that before now.
They’re so close that he can see the individual flecks of color in the thin irises of Stede’s hazel eyes, wide and searching his own for proof that he wants this too. And he does. But even more than that, he wants for Stede. Wants to comfort him , hold him , because Stede needs him right now, he remembers dully.
He takes his hand from Stede’s and gets up slowly, leading Stede to sit back on his heels. Stede looks confused, so Ed pulls him in for a soft kiss, easing the tension from his body. “Lie down,” he says, gently maneuvering the other man onto his back. He climbs off the bed for just a moment and Stede bolts up to watch, but relaxes substantially when Ed raises his hand in a comforting gesture.
The cabin is still bare compared to its glory days, but Stede has been slowly redecorating with hastily patched curtains and mismatched furniture where they find it. He hasn’t had much luck finding clothing to replace his fancy fabrics, aside from an allegedly cursed suit of which he’d only kept the shirt. So his wardrobe is mostly empty, which is fortunate because Ed had been using some of the drawers for his personal belongings. He rummages in a drawer until he finds a vial of oil. He pulls the stopper out with his teeth on the way back to bed, pausing with one leg up on the bed when he actually stops to look at Stede laid out on the bed before him, hand wrapped around himself and stroking slowly as he follows Ed with his eyes.
Ed forgets what he’s doing in favor of staring for a good few seconds before he remembers himself and climbs back onto the bed, settling on Stede’s thighs. He spits the stopper off the bed and drizzles some oil onto his fingers. “Give me a few minutes to get myself ready, yeah?”
It’s an unfortunate fact of his life that Ed doesn’t take cock very often, and it’s hard to fuck himself on his own fingers satisfyingly enough when his knee acts up more often than not. In an ideal situation, he’d do this part in private so he’s already prepared to take Stede, but it’s not like this was a planned encounter.
Can we take it slow?
The knot in his stomach starts to reassert itself, but then Stede’s hand finds his, and he says, “Let me?”
It doesn’t register at first what Stede’s referring to, but then he’s taking the vial of oil from Ed and pours it on his fingers, and oh , is he really —
He’s caught himself staring at Stede’s hands before, his thick fingers and clean nails and how warm they feel in his own. Usually his thoughts wander towards sucking those fingers into his mouth, teasing Stede until he can’t hold back anymore and ends up choking Ed on his cock. It’s a travesty that his mind has never provided him with daydreams of this, because now Stede is rubbing one of those thick fingers over his hole and he’s trying very hard not to get too excited too quickly. And Stede brings him close, kisses him while he breaches him, eases him open, works one finger in then two. And he could take three, let Stede really loosen him up, but then he thinks of being stretched open on Stede’s cock instead and he’s good actually, this is fine, it’s enough.
Ed pulls Stede’s hand away and guides him back down with a hand to his chest when he starts to sit up. He wants to make this good for Stede, something to take away the hurt. Poison into positivity. He pours more oil onto his fingers and Stede’s cock, strokes him back to full hardness before positioning himself over his thighs. “Let me take care of you,” he says, softly, and then he eases himself onto Stede’s cock.
The thing is, Ed’s got a pretty good imagination, and he’s been fucked before, so he had a pretty good idea of how this would go. He’s heard people say it’s different when you’re with someone you love, but Ed has had some truly mind-blowing sex in his life, so that always seemed like an exaggeration.
Stede’s cock stretching him full feels amazing. In an purely technical sense he’s had better sex but there really is something about the connection — the way Stede groans as Ed takes him bit by bit, the way he digs his nails into Ed’s thighs, the way he watches Ed like any distance between their bodies may as well be a chasm, the way he wants all of Ed. And Ed’s heart hurts with it, but in a good way that he can’t quite explain, but every roll of his hips intensifies with it. Like the first gasp of air when you think you’re about to drown — a pleasure-pain to remind you you’re really alive .
He fucks himself on Stede like this, arches back like he’s putting on a show — isn’t he always? — and ignores the ache building in his knees as he lifts himself up just to take Stede as deep as he can. Stede holds onto his thighs with a bruising strength, probably unaware in his bliss, but it does wonders to keep Ed feeling securely speared on his cock. Stede makes the most beautiful sounds, between little whimpers and full moans of pleasure and between those a constant commentary consisting only of Ed’s name.
Ed doesn’t realize he’s put his hands on top of Stede’s until he feels Stede’s fingers lace between his own, and now they’re holding hands as Ed rides him hard, panting with the effort. He wants to stay here forever, in this bubble they’ve built around themselves, this liminal space where being together and in love is enough . No piracy, no murder, no messy emotions and conversations that really should have happened before they reached this point. Just them .
Realistically, however, Ed knows neither of them is going to last long like this. Not after all the time they’ve spent wanting, when others haven’t filled the pit of desire in Ed’s chest. He takes Stede in earnest, lifting his hips high enough that Stede’s hardly in him anymore. Stede tries to snap his hips up, chasing the feeling with desperation, and Ed indulges him, taking all of him, again and again. It’s intoxicating in a way he’s never experienced before, like getting lost in the pleasure of another.
“Come here,” Stede whines. He takes a hand from Ed’s thigh like it’s a monumental task and threads it through his hair, pulling him down to taste his lips. The change in position doesn’t let Ed get Stede inside him as deep as he’d like, but they find a pace together, Stede thrusting up with a fistful of Ed’s hair, Ed pushing himself down on Stede’s cock in increasingly erratic rolls of his hips. When he feels Stede begin to lose rhythm, he snakes a hand between them to wrap a hand around his own cock, pumping himself against Stede’s stomach.
All the while, Stede keeps repeating his name like it’s the only word he remembers anymore. Then a sudden moment where he grips Ed’s hair and pulls him into a sloppy attempt at a kiss and says, “Come for me, Ed.”
And it’s all so much, Stede’s sultry whispered command and the hand in his hair and how he thrusts up into Ed’s hole in just the right way that Ed moans into Stede’s mouth as he comes over his own fist and their stomachs with an intensity that sets its own fireworks off behind his eyes.
He’s still stroking himself through the end of his orgasm when Stede’s hand scrambles higher to Ed’s hip, holding him in place as he thrusts once, twice, and then he’s coming with his cock buried inside Ed, pulses sending him to the cusp of overstimulation. They stay together like this until Stede sighs deeply, satisfied, and he shifts beneath Ed, pulling out as his spent cock starts to soften. The sensation of come dripping down his thighs and balls is unpleasant, but he can’t find himself to really care when he has Stede’s lips on his.
They lie together until Ed really can’t put off the clean-up. Stede, gentleman that he is, brings Ed a damp cloth and helps to wipe away the worst of the drying come from their bodies. He collapses beside him on the bed once more, pulling Ed into his arms, head pillowed against his chest. The wild beating of Stede’s heart brings more comfort to Ed than he knew he needed.
Ed could drift off like this, held against Stede’s chest, listening to his breathing even out as he relaxes into the mattress. He could wake up in the arms of the one person he feels he can be vulnerable like this with.
Maybe this isn’t taking it slow, but they can talk about it in the morning. There’s a lot that Ed needs to say once he gets all his jumbled thoughts into some semblance of order. Stede will likely want to talk all about this too.
They can leave it here for the night, and everything else can wait til the morning.
He’s just closed his eyes when Stede brushes waves of salt-and-pepper hair from Ed’s forehead and, with an earnestness that tugs at Ed’s heart, whispers, “I love you, Ed.”
Ed almost says it back, because he loves Stede. Loves him so much he doesn’t know what to do with it sometimes.
But this isn’t the way he wants to tell him. As wonderful as this is, none of this is the way he wanted it. If nothing else, he can make that moment perfect. The way Stede deserves it.
“I know,” he says instead, softly, against Stede’s chest. Then he closes his eyes and snuggles into Stede’s side, but stays awake until he hears Stede’s steady breathing even into sleep. Once he’s certain Stede’s fast asleep, he adds, quiet as his voice will allow, “I love you, too.”