Before he heads into the closet to change, Stede catches Ed’s sleeve. His expression is concerned.
“I know last time we did this things went a bit… pear-shaped. We can still go with the backup plan if you like, just say the word.”
Ed shakes his head. That was a bloody lifetime ago, feels like. And in some ways maybe it was. It does help this time it’s for a fuckery, he’s not going to lie. A thing to put on for a reason, the proper kind of pretend.
“I’m good, mate.” He smiles, and Stede relaxes.
He pats Ed’s arm and swishes past the doorway. “Then I’ll see you there.”
Ed dresses in the clothes he picked out, does his hair up to keep it out of his face. He looks at himself in the mirror, makes sure he’s presentable.
The way Stede looks up from his conversation with a stranger, absolutely gobsmacked? Ed thinks he did all right.
—
They get back to the ship, finally able to retire to their cabin. Stede pulls off his fancies, until it’s just his undershirt and drawers. Ed likes him closer to the skin like this, no matter how pretty he looks in his finery. It’s the Stede he sees in his tenderest moments, over a cup of tea in the morning, amidst a throe of ecstasy, sleeping next to him in their bed.
Stede glances over. “Oh, Edward. May I?” He steps towards Ed, raises his hands to Ed’s collar, hovering.
“Feel free.”
Stede smiles and undoes the first button. His fingers are careful and slow, deliberate. Something about the loving intensity of his expression makes Ed shiver. Of course Stede notices, he’s right there; and his eyes flick up to Ed’s. There’s fondness certainly, but also the gravity of caring for something—someone precious and dear. What you’re always mindful of, because it means that much to you.
“You looked absolutely exquisite tonight, darling. Let me take care of you.”
Ed nods. Sometimes Stede gets like this, and it’s… a lot. Ed’s no stranger to adoration, or what people think it is. It was never for him, always Blackbeard or their idea of him. It grew tiresome eventually.
Stede unbuttoning his overcoat, though, solemn as a sacrament? Ed’s still trying to wrap his head around it.
He takes off Ed's outer and waistcoat, hanging them for brushing out later. The shirt has a fiddly collar, and he has to tilt his head back to let Stede get to the buttons.
(He thought it would be harder, after all… that, to let Stede back in. To be clear, it was difficult. But it wasn't as bad as he anticipated, and perhaps that is a small miracle in itself.)
His shirt is open now, skin cool where the air touches. Stede kisses him at the pulse of his neck, the center of the bird at his sternum. His lips are warm, the huff of his breath damp as he mouths at some prayer known only to him.
He takes the shirt off, runs his hands over Ed's arms. It does fuck-all for the chill but Ed appreciates the thought.
He catches Stede's face in his hands, brings their mouths together: soft, slow, wet. Kissing is a thing neither of them thought much about before. For Stede it was perfunctory obligation, and for Ed an incidental gesture during coupling. Being able to take time, glut on the taste of each other (even though it will never be enough), revel in the luxurious, simple pleasure of it? Kissing's fucking great.
They're up against the bed now, the back of Ed's knees bumping the edge. Stede tugs at the laces on the front of Ed's breeches, kneeling to attend to the fastenings at the legs. Ed’s breath catches, looking down at this: hair gilded in the candlelight, the gentle curl of fingers against his ankle as Stede takes off one shoe, then the other. He steps out of his breeches and drawers.
Stede folds them carefully, neatly, before he looks back at Ed, desire laid bare. His expression is hungry, and Ed wants to be devoured.
"Lay back, my dear. I want to see you."
Ed stretches out, Stede between his legs at the foot of the bed. His fingers skate over the tendon above Ed's heel, a small bit of pressure. A thumb brushes over his ankle, the bottom of his foot. Stede's hands are warm, even through the fabric of Ed's stockings.
He lifts Ed's good leg, still mindful (always, in a way Ed slides away from examining it further); and brushes a kiss to his instep. It is solicitous; prayerful even.
He works his way up Ed's leg with his mouth and fingers and hands, slow and deliberate. He presses a kiss to where fabric meets skin. Ed shivers at the change in temperature and sensitivity. Stede looks up, entirely too pleased with himself.
“Do you want me to take these off?”
Another time he’ll have Stede untie the ribbons and roll them down his legs, lavishing them with heat and breath and wet. Tonight the silk feels decadent against his skin, cool and smooth.
“Leave ‘em.”
Stede smiles, more delighted than Ed thinks it warrants, but whatever. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
His lips are warm, the exhale of his breath damp as he continues up Ed's thigh. He sucks a bruise on the tender inside, a hidden souvenir of their time together (that will bloom with a delicious pain when he bumps up against it, grateful his skin is probably dark enough people won’t notice him flush. Stede will though. But he’s learned all of Ed’s little tells).
He's close enough to Ed's dick his cheek brushes against it, and it's a dirty thrill to see a smear of wetness reflected in the lamplight.
Stede gets a hand around him, but his grip is loose, a tease of better things. Ed resolutely does not let his arousal take over, even when Stede does that thing with his fingers down the bottom length of his cock. He does break after Stede spits in his hand and retraces the path, because he's only human and Stede knows exactly how to wind him up.
He moves so he can claim Ed's mouth in a filthy kiss, still working Ed's dick at that maddening pace. Ed tries to rut up—something, anything for more friction. Stede actually moves away, the bastard, and Ed does not whine (but he definitely thinks about it).
“C’mon, Stede, please.” He's aiming for cheeky but ends up at pleading.
“In good time, my treasure. I always take care of you, don't I?” His voice is fond, dripping sweetness but also mischief.
Ed never knew he could be cherished and tormented so much by the same person. And maybe that's why it works, being known so well by somebody they can not only take you apart but also put you back together. Not that he would let anybody but Stede do this. Sometimes Ed’s still astonished at how safe he feels with Stede, the bone-deep certainty he will be caught or helped off the ground when he tumbles.
He’s rarely felt safe enough to truly relax. Now that Ed can (and does), he wonders how he carried that weight for so long, until he’d forgotten it wasn't part of him.
And with the ability to repose comes the bliss of letting go: not having to think, just floating in the love and indulgence Stede pours on him, vast and endless as the horizon.
“Always.” Because it's true, and he needs Stede to understand he will never take it for granted.
“Oh, my darling.” Stede's voice is reverent and wonder-full, like he still can’t believe he has this. Has Ed.
“Stede.” Ed does not hide this time, letting need fill his voice.
One last kiss, chaste and fond, before he moves down and Ed's cock is engulfed by slick wet heat. A groan escapes him, brought out by the onslaught of sensation; and he rides it, moving pleasantly along but never cresting.
He looks down, Stede's mouth and hand moving on him. Of course it’s hot, watching his boyfriend(!!) suck him off; and Stede does it with such ardor, like he’s making up for lost time. (Ed knows he could spend the rest of his days with Stede and it would never be enough.)
“Always make me feel so good, sweet.” Stede looks up at him, content and adoring, like he’d be happy to do this forever. He's always beautiful, but like this: eyelashes fluttering, his focus on Ed intent as a blade? He’s brilliant, like his love for Ed can’t help but come out in his every action and gesture.
Ed reaches out and cradles Stede's head; not trying to direct him or pull his hair, just resting, holding. Stede makes a pleased noise and fuck, he's into it, how he sets to his task with renewed fervor.
He doesn’t know how long they float in that space together. There’s only where he and Stede are in and on each other: firm, steady pressure of mouth and tongue; soft, mussed hair against Ed’s palm; the heat of Stede’s hand where it rests on Ed’s stocking.
Ed’s saying something but he can’t make out the words, just vibration and rhythm. It must mean something to Stede, because he makes a choked moan around him and Ed is close, so close.
He’s definitely babbling now, some rapturous mixture of praise and need and love raining down on Stede. His hand tightens on Ed’s thigh, both encouragement and understanding, and it tips him over, sweet relief and carnal bliss hand in hand.
When he’s aware of the world again, Stede’s pillowed on his thigh, smiling dopey and fond. Something about it makes Ed urge him up, pull him in for a salt-bitter kiss.
Stede rolls his hips, seeking his own completion, and Ed slots his leg where Stede can frot and grind against it. When his dick comes in contact with the silk, he makes a truly indecent noise and Ed has never wanted the constitution of a younger man more.
“Take what you need,” he murmurs against Stede’s ear. “Feel good because of me.”
Stede ruts against him for only a short time before he shudders through his orgasm, spilling hot over Ed’s thigh and belly. He presses his forehead against Ed’s neck, his breathing slowing to normal. Ed kisses him on top of his head before pulling Stede to his side.
They drift for a while, not saying anything, until Ed has a thought.
“These are going to be a bitch to clean up, aren’t they?”
Stede makes a noncommittal noise, which is how Ed knows he’s blissed out. “Probably, but I think it was worth it.”