Archive of Our Own

Stede is back, and Ed is about to do something fucking stupid.

He can feel it when Stede follows him into the cabin, hot on Ed’s heels after Ed had roared at him to fuck the hell off back into the ocean for all I fucking care, because of course he does, because Stede doesn’t know when to fucking quit.

Ed does. He’d rowed himself back to the Revenge, alone. He’d cried and wallowed and written terrible lyrics while resigning himself to a life without Stede, alone. He’d retreated into the safety of the dark, secluded corners of his own empty chest, so cold and familiar that retracing his footsteps back there had been as easy as changing his clothes. Alone, alone, alone.

Apparently, being alone is too much to fucking ask now that Stede I-fucked-up Bonnet is back on board, so here they are, storming into the cabin in perfect fucking step, like a pitiful stab at imitating the ease with which they coexisted for a delicate span of time. Parallel steps, parallel rhythms, parallel laughter and sighs and dreams.

Right up until Stede decided to go fucking perpendicular.

The incongruence between them is devastating now, too up-close and intimate. He came back. He left, he left, he left. It’s becoming suffocating the closer Stede gets, every footfall like a grip around Ed’s throat. Ed is about to do something stupid.

“Ed, just listen to me,” Stede pleads, and Ed wishes he hadn’t thrown out so much of Stede’s shit so there’d be something within arm’s reach to throw at his fucking infuriating, not-at-all-sunkissed face.

“Fuck off. I don’t wanna fucking hear it,” Ed snaps. It’s convincing, he thinks, and manages not to betray the rising panic inside him. His actions might say otherwise as he spins around to find Stede close, way too fucking close; Ed tries immediately to put distance between them, knocking into the desk as he shuffles backwards. He can’t look at Stede, but god knows he’s not a big enough fool to turn his back to him. Not again, never again.

Stede advances like he knows Ed’s heart gets closer to slamming all the way through his ribs with every new inch of proximity. Stede must want him dead, he thinks wildly. He wants Ed’s body to tear itself apart the way his heart already has. He hasn’t left enough of a gaping cavern where Ed’s soul used to be; he’s here to fill the space with molten lead so Ed can never move again.

“Please,” Stede says for at least the tenth time. “I know, Ed—I know you’re angry, of course you’re—”

“You know fucking nothing about me,” Ed snarls.

“Edward, did you—”

“It’s Blackbeard.”

“—even hear anything I just told you?” Stede asks desperately, swiftly sidestepping the only line of defense Ed’s ever needed. He’s a fucking madman; he’s a lunatic; he has no damn sense of self-preservation, and really, Ed’s about to do something so, so fucking stupid.

“Ed, I’m here— I’m here for you,” Stede insists, voice gentling. Another step, another dagger inching along Ed’s throat. Ed takes another step back and stumbles, catching himself just in time to realize he’s trapped between the desk and Stede’s rapt, earnest gaze. “I love you, Edward.”

“Don’t,” Ed snaps the instant it falls from Stede’s lips. “Don’t fucking—haven’t you lied to me enough already?”

“Yes,” Stede says firmly. Another fucking step, and Ed is going to either die or do something enormously, tremendously stupid. “There are a hundred things I should have been honest about sooner, which is why I’m not lying to you anymore, I’ll never lie to—”

“Fuck off,” Ed laughs, because it’s the most cruel thing he can muster. “Just lies on fucking lies with you, mate, isn’t it?”

“Listen,” Stede begs again, and he’s another step closer and maybe Ed should just choose death, dive in headfirst before he does something—

“No.” It’s less convicted than Ed intends, and Stede hears it.

“I love you,” Stede says again. It’s so gentle Ed wants to grab it and try to wrangle it into the ugly thing it deserves to be.

“Then stop.”

“I won’t. I couldn’t if I tried, Ed, and—and I don’t want—”

“Well, we don’t always get what we fucking want, now, do we?” Ed’s voice definitely does not fucking waver as he says it.

Stede looks like he could crack in two, or like he could reach out and do it to Ed instead. “Please, Ed,” he breathes, “just let me—”

Stede takes another step in, and Ed does something catastrophically fucking stupid.

He sees himself do it before he feels it, hurtling towards the collision without an anchor, without a plan, without any restraint left now that Stede is within arm’s reach. His fingers fist themselves into Stede’s shirt, and he yanks Stede in until their lips crash together in a scalding, reckless kiss.

And that would be bad enough. It’d be bad enough that Ed’s heartbeat is ringing in his ears, that his bones are trying to melt and his hands want to do something ridiculous like bury themselves in Stede’s soft hair as he kisses like he cares, like he means it, like he’s wanted it again ever since that stupid fucking beach.

And that would be bad enough, too, but Stede—Stede makes a sound like surprise, like longing, like the sound he made on that stupid fucking beach, and it’d be bad enough that Ed’s world tilts and he forgets, for a long, blissful moment, what the hell he was ever so angry about in the first place. It’d be bad enough that he still loves Stede so much he forgets how to think.

It would all be bad enough—but then Stede does something even stupider and kisses Ed back.

It might be slow at first; Ed isn’t sure. He can feel every millisecond of Stede’s lips on his, every subtle huff of breath and every single point of contact as Stede’s hands slide to Ed’s waist a moment later. He could probably feel even more if he tried, like the splinters of wood rubbing against each other as the floorboards creak, or the beat of the wings of a moth that made Stede beam with delight. Maybe Stede’s lips are slow against his, or maybe the entire world has simply slowed down to stretch this moment on forever, to give Ed back a single dose of sweetness after weeks of empty bitterness.

Then the universe picks up again beneath Ed’s feet at such a breakneck pace, he nearly can’t breathe.

Hands—it’s hands first, Stede’s hands scrabbling over Ed’s sides and pushing up his chest, clutching at his shoulders and dragging down his back, and Ed nearly pools into liquid beneath the touch before something sharp flares up in his chest, hot and spikey, still ragged and scorched at the edges. He grips Stede with a renewed fervor in his fingertips, passion or anger or desire or heartbreak or all of it at once, dragging him in flush against Ed’s body as his teeth come down sharp on Stede’s lip.

Stede gasps and makes some impossibly sweet sound in the space between their lips, and Ed shoves back in to close the distance, sinking fingers into Stede’s hair to anchor himself as he begins pushing him backwards across the room.

Stede nearly stumbles before holding Ed tighter for balance, righting himself as Ed kisses him fiercely. When Stede manages to take a breath—when Ed’s lips relent for long enough to begin working their way down Stede’s jaw instead, then his neck—words begin spilling from his lips again, high and breathless.

“Ed—oh, god, Ed, I—w-wait, we should still—”

“What?” Ed demands against his neck, then lets his teeth catch Stede’s skin as they part against it, and Stede goes weaker in Ed’s hands with a breathy little moan.

“Edward,” Stede breathes instead, voice sinking lower in his chest, and suddenly his fingers are in Ed’s hair too, tugging at it until a mortifying little whine climbs out of Ed’s throat, letting Stede draw him up to bring their lips together again.

It’s softer this time; Stede kisses him like Ed is something he should savor, like a tin of stolen marzipan swiped from a fancy vessel. The gentleness sends another wild spike of pain through Ed’s heart, and he growls into the kiss, fisting Stede’s shirt again to begin yanking it free of his trousers. He breaks away as he tugs it swiftly up, and Stede lifts his arms without hesitation so Ed can drag it up and off before pulling him sharply back in.

“Hell, I—” Stede manages, but then Ed’s lips are back on his, kissing every word off his sweet, devastating tongue, because he can’t, he can’t fucking hear a word Stede has to say right now, knows that anything that falls from his lips will snap him clean in two.

Stede gives over to it swiftly this time, and hot satisfaction sweeps through Ed as Stede’s lips part to the hungry press of his tongue, earning a shaking moan from Stede’s throat. It’s only seconds longer before Stede is the one clutching at him, crowding in like he’s never been kissed so well in his life, and maybe—fuck, maybe he hasn’t, and something about that makes Ed’s whole brain light up with a fearsome, burning hunger, suddenly pushing him with renewed purpose towards the bed.

“Ed—” is all Stede manages when their lips suddenly part, and Ed pushes him swiftly down against the bed, already beginning to crawl over him.

“You want me, right?” Ed interrupts, heat and gravel in his throat as he plants himself right atop Stede’s hips.

“Christ,” Stede pants with wide eyes, fingers already scrambling to come to Ed’s thighs where they press down around him. “Yes, I—god, Ed, so badly—”

“You wanna stop?” Ed murmurs next, dark and knowing as he reaches down even while he speaks, pulling his shirt swiftly up and tossing it away.

Some desperate noise of protest rips from Stede’s throat, perhaps even without Stede meaning to let it out. “No,” he breathes like a heated confession, and Ed leans up over him, bracing himself with a hand pressed to the sheets beside Stede’s head as he rocks their hips together, slow and purposeful, eyes locked on Stede’s.

He watches as Stede’s expression melts into one of startled bliss, heart racing as another rush of satisfaction travels down Ed’s spine and settles in his hips.

“Yeah,” Ed breathes as he repeats the motion, then again, settling into a steady, grinding rhythm as he presses Stede down against the bed with it. “Yeah, you like that, huh? Feel good?”

Stede seems beyond words, only managing to nod a little frantically, and Ed quickens his pace without hesitation, biting his lip against a groan as he watches Stede’s cheeks flush beneath him. Stede gasps on every rut of Ed’s hips like he’s never wanted anything more, like it’s better than he ever imagined—like he’s startled Ed could feel so good, could be so good—

Ed presses down in a rush before that thought can carry itself further, lips crashing back to Stede’s as he continues the heated drag of their hips. Stede moans up into his mouth, sliding slightly-shaking hands slowly down Ed’s arms, settling carefully on his hips. He doesn’t pull Ed into the motions so much as he simply hangs on, feels the way Ed moves above him as he arches up into every movement between them.

“Fuck,” Ed suddenly pants as he breaks away, heat swelling within him so quickly he loses his breath. His motions falter as he suddenly draws back, sitting back on Stede’s hips and reaching down quickly for his pants, eagerly beginning to fumble them open. He frowns as he struggles for a moment, blinking rapidly and wondering why he’s struggling to see clearly, why his vision has gone so blurry.

A wet drop lands on his own hand and he startles, pausing breathlessly.

He’s—crying. He’s fucking crying.

No. No, he’s not, because that’d be fucking pathetic. Because he’s fucking Blackbeard, and he’s long since finished crying over the man lying beneath him, the one Ed’s got pinned to the bed and panting for him, hard and wanting him, looking up at him like Ed hung the stars and moon in the sky. And maybe he fucking did, didn’t he? Maybe he did. He can do anything.

He swallows and pretends it isn’t painful from the hard lump in his throat, reaches up swiftly to swipe a hand across his eyes for no particular damn reason, and absolutely does not fucking sniffle as he quickly continues working open his clothes.

Beneath him, the worst thing he can imagine happens, like the world is cracking in half. Stede’s breath hitches, and then a sigh leaves his lips that sounds like sympathy. Or pity, or regret, or—

“Ed,” Stede breathes, fingers stretching out towards Ed’s hands, “can I—come here, let me—”

“No,” Ed growls, knocking Stede’s hands away sharply. Stede pulls them back obediently, tucking them a little uncertainly against his chest, and Ed doesn’t have to spend too long thinking about how fucking endearing that is, because he finally manages to work open his trousers before leaning right back down, kissing Stede fiercely again.

He relishes the stuttering gasp in Stede’s mouth as Ed’s cock presses along his stomach, already so hard Ed’s practically aching with it. He groans as he thrusts aimlessly against Stede’s stomach, the simple friction alone enough to make him dizzy; when his hips rock backwards against Stede’s, Stede trades his startled little breaths for low, pleasure-riddled moans.

God, he’s fucking hard. Ed can feel it through both their clothes, can’t help but grind back along the firm bulge of Stede’s cock trapped behind his trousers. Ed’s mind lights up like a blazing star at the feeling, the knowledge that it’s him who’s left Stede in such a state—that Stede is utterly desperate for it, that he’s all but writhing beneath Ed’s hips with sheer desire.

“Christ, Ed—oh, Ed,” Stede pants as Ed moves above him. Ed’s gaze is fixed on his face, watching for every minute shift in his expression, tilting his hips just so to pull the loudest gasps into the spaces between Stede’s words. “Oh,” Stede moans softly, fingers digging into Ed’s legs. “Oh, god—I love you—love you—”

Shit.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Stede pants, and there are spikes searing through Ed’s heart with every word now as Stede’s nails drag down his thighs. “I wanted—hell, Ed, w-wanted—oh, god—”

Ed grinds down a little firmer, inexplicable relief washing through him as he cuts off Stede’s words, tangles them up instead in a groan. Then it backfires, because Stede arches up like a fucking dream beneath him as his words return full-force the second he catches his breath, spilling even more earnestly from his lips.

“Please—oh, Edward—oh—oh, my love,” Stede whispers rapidly, fingers clutching so tightly at Ed’s thigh they could bruise. Only then they release Ed’s leg abruptly, suddenly climbing higher towards Ed’s hard, flushed cock. Stede’s chest heaves with heavy breaths, eyes full of unbearably tender longing. “Please—please, darling, can I touch y—”

It’s his creeping hand first that Ed reacts to, reaches down abruptly to circle Stede’s wrist in a vice grip, stilling it before he can reach his cock; and Ed is already breathing in to snap something at him, something dark and growling and perfectly in-charge, when that fucking darling slips off Stede’s lips like fire that could swallow Ed whole.

Ed’s other hand flies up at once, pressing swiftly to Stede’s throat without a thought in his head beyond his desperation to stop Stede’s words in their tracks, to stem the unbearable flow of love off his lips before it rips Ed apart from the inside out.

Stede’s words halt, and so does everything else. Their motions freeze, Stede’s heaving chest stills, and Ed is fairly certain the ocean itself loses its ebbs and flows and rocking motions for a long, endless moment.

“No.” It falls from Ed’s lips before he even realizes the word is in his mouth. More words come in an agonizing wave, sharp enough to slice his throat on the way out, but he doesn’t waver. “Just—fucking shut up.”

Stede swallows heavily beneath his hand, staring up at Ed in sadness. Not fear, not terror, hardly even shock, only a dash of surprise. Stede’s eyes are steeped in heartbreak, his whole expression heavy with it.

“Ed,” he manages from beneath Ed’s grip, thin and understanding—so fucking understanding, even while Ed’s got fingers wrapped around his goddamn throat, and Ed grits his teeth and presses just a little harder, until Stede’s words disappear in a soft, choked noise.

“Shut the fuck up,” Ed orders roughly, and his fucking vision’s gone blurry again, cheeks suddenly wet with streams of tears the second he tries to blink. “Just—lie there. Just fucking lie there.”

Stede’s breaths have become tenuous beneath his grip, and he reaches up slowly with his free hand to touch Ed’s wrist. His fingers curl carefully around it, making no move to pull Ed away. Simply touching, holding, like it’s the closest Stede can get to holding his fucking hand. Suddenly, Ed’s breath wavers as Stede’s thumb strokes carefully against the soft skin of his inner wrist.

Ed doesn’t mean for his fingers to seize up, doesn’t mean to tighten his grip with a sharp, startled breath in. His world slows down and speeds up and crashes into itself all at the same time in the instant that follows, watching as Stede’s eyes widen minutely, lips parting without a breath rising to them. For a second, his grip tightens around Ed’s wrist like an instinct from his body, not his brain, fighting for breath as Ed chokes the very air from his lungs.

Shame and fear crash over Ed like a tidal wave, and he gasps as he releases Stede instantly, scrambling away from him so quickly he nearly falls off the bed. He shifts off Stede’s body as Stede gasps and coughs briefly, scooting frantically down to the foot of the bed until he’s flush against the wall, rushing to put distance between the beautiful man before him and the wretched fucking hands that tried to kill him.

He doesn’t realize he’s choking back more tears, hardly even feels the sobs clawing up from his chest, throttling him from the inside out nearly as effectively as he just did to Stede. He feels the ache in his throat and his jaw, as stinging and familiar as in the weeks after Stede first left, and he curls in on himself as he looks away from Stede catching his breath—surviving the kraken, surviving Ed, Ed’s murderous fucking hands and his pitiful fucking feelings.

His hands are shaking where he clutches his knees close to his body, sobs trembling out of his chest before he can stop them. And then it’s worse, so much fucking worse because Stede’s hands come to his shoulders, slide down his arms with a gentleness Ed’s never deserved in his life. His touch stays even after Ed flinches away, even as he tries to shift out of the grip, trapped between the bed and Stede’s growing proximity.

“Ed,” Stede breathes earnestly, and there’s a hoarseness to his voice that slices Ed to his core, hot steel flaying his heart wide open. “Ed, it’s all right, I’m all right—”

“Get away from me,” Ed tries to order in a very fucking fearsome tone, and it doesn’t come out weak or broken at all, not even mostly. “Fuck, get—fuck off, just leave me alone before I fucking—”

“Ed, please,” Stede murmurs—gentle, gentle, fucking gentle as he strokes Ed’s hair like he’s not at all a monster, presses his fingers along Ed’s damp cheek, speaks to him like Ed is some lovable fucking thing and not a raging creature of legend. “Darling, please—come here, let me hold you—”

Ed doesn’t know where the love is still coming from, the touches and the murmurs and the sweet fucking darlings. Stede is a lunatic, still trying to win affections from a man who’s done nothing but try to kill him twice now and kiss him on some beach in between.

“No,” Ed snaps instead, and this time he manages the gravel tone he intends as he whips around to look at Stede again, bringing a hand to his chest to shove him backwards. Stede tips ungracefully back against the bed in surprise, and Ed hurries off the sheets and onto his feet while he has the chance, while he has inches of space to breathe. He reaches down swiftly to pick up their shirts, tossing Stede’s carelessly at him before stalking across the room, forcing a rattling breath into his lungs.

“Fucking go, Stede. Leave me alone.” With rum. To cry without you watching. He yanks his shirt back on, desperate to feel even slightly less exposed.

Stede reluctantly pulls on his shirt, but gets to his feet again to draw right back in close to Ed. “I’m not leaving,” Stede insists softly. “Ed, I—I know you’re in pain, but—”

“Very fucking astute.”

“God’s sake, Ed, just let me—” And now Ed does snap, because Stede has no fucking right—absolutely no fucking right to ask for anything.

Ed had let him. For weeks, Ed had let him. Ed had let Stede take him on treasure hunts and bring him tea. Ed had let him talk like a maniac and whisper like a devil until Ed had fallen in stupid, swooning love. Ed had let him promise that they were going to fucking China. Ed had let him sleep and think up new names while he had gone and mugged someone for a dinghy.

Ed had let him, and then Ed never fucking saw him again. Until now.

He doesn’t wait for Stede to finish. He reaches out to grip Stede’s elbow like the contact alone couldn’t kill him where he stands, hauling Stede determinedly towards the door. He’s about to say something else, probably something that would end the whole conversation, the whole dalliance, the whole fucking firefight Ed’s been trapped in for weeks that Stede only just bothered showing up for—

But Stede can’t stop doing fucking stupid things, and he yanks Ed to a stop beside the cabin door, dragging him in for another kiss.

This time it staggers Ed, sends him stumbling backwards until Stede has him pressed against the wall, kissing the breath out of his lungs, kissing him like Ed wouldn’t have guessed Stede knew how to kiss. Ed doesn’t think before his hands come to Stede’s waist, pulling him in flush as he gives a dark sound into the kiss.

Stede surprises him again by letting out a low growl of his own, riddled with heated longing as his hands climb up Ed’s arms to his shoulders, then sink right into his hair. Ed goes dizzy at the wet press of their mouths together, hot and desperate, a moan startling out of him as Stede’s tongue slips into his mouth to run along his own.

Ed tries not to fucking melt with the feeling, but his knees don’t quite get the message, going weak as he presses back along the wall for balance. Stede’s kiss slowly begins to lighten after a moment, and Ed almost lets out some embarrassingly devastated noise of loss as Stede’s lips finally disappear from his. He tries to chase them, but gasps softly as Stede’s fingers in his hair hold him back.

“I love you,” Stede breathes for the tenth or hundredth time, like he can’t stop fucking saying it—like Ed didn’t hear it every other time already like a cannonball to his fragile ribcage. “Ed, let me tell you—Christ, there’s so much I need to—”

No. No, no, no. Ed summons the strength abruptly back to his limbs to grip Stede’s waist tightly, turning them swiftly around to shove Stede back against the wall himself, dangerously close to an empty bookshelf.

“You think anything you’ve got to say is gonna change a fucking thing?” Ed demands. “You can’t fucking talk me into being something you wouldn’t abandon on a dock, Stede—”

“That’s not—Edward, I didn’t leave because of you—”

Ed’s fingers curl into a fist before he can stop them, suddenly slamming to the wall beside Stede’s head. “But it was still me you fucking left!” It leaves him in a near-shout as Stede flinches, tears rushing back to Ed’s eyes as he breathes heavily. “You left me, you saw me for what I am—”

“What?” Stede suddenly breathes, stunned as his face screws up in confusion and concern.

“The fuck do you mean, what?” Ed snaps without missing a beat. “You ran, and you were fucking right to. Everyone does. Everyone’s right to fucking run.”

Stede lets go of a shocked exhale. He reaches up for Ed’s face; Ed shoves his hand away without a thought. He’s getting fucking tired of dodging Stede’s relentless affections.

Stede glares a little as Ed pushes his hand away, drawing himself up against the wall. “You don’t scare me, Ed,” he suddenly breathes, voice turning gentle again, easy as a blade slipped between Ed’s ribs. “You couldn’t.”

“I don’t think that’s a bet you wanna make, mate,” Ed mutters dangerously, expression sinking into a piercing glare.

“I can take whatever you give me, Ed,” Stede insists in a breathless rush, and his resolve is so brazen that Ed forgets to give a dismissive retort. It’s a mistake, a fatal misstep on Ed’s part; he loses the inch and watches helplessly as Stede takes the mile, stepping closer into Ed’s space. His fingers curl around Ed’s waist, suddenly pulling Ed around to crowd him back along an empty bookshelf.

Ed isn’t even sure how they’ve found themselves in Stede’s gutted library, and he feels himself crumbling once again, buckling under the horrific weight of Stede’s purposeful touches and loving gaze.

“I’ll take it all, Ed,” Stede breathes like the world’s most loving menace, “Anything you want to do to me. Because no matter what you do, no matter how you push me, you’ll be able to feel me pulling for you. Every time.”

Ed stares at him, wild-eyed and stunned. The words sound like a threat on Stede’s tongue, a dangerous promise of the sort of love that could bring Ed to kill as swiftly as it could end his own life. Ruinous fingers find their place at Ed’s cheek, and Ed devolves deeper into speechlessness as Stede’s fingertips send lightning through his system.

“You’re not some monster,” Stede whispers as he gazes into Ed’s eyes. “You’re a good man, Edward. And you won’t scare me into loving you any less, no matter how hard you try.”

Ed swallows hard. Stede is inches away, soft and devastating, fearless and terrifying, and Blackbeard isn’t afraid of anything, not a single thing in the fucking world—but if he were, it would be this. If he knew how fear tasted, if he could feel it buzzing through his veins all the way down to his fingertips, then his greatest fear might be this: a blindingly radiant man threatening to love him forever, after refusing to fear him first.

Fuck.

“You’re a fucking idiot, then,” Ed whispers. Stede doesn’t bat an eye; he takes in a soft, sharp breath, expression softening minutely, looking ready to crash into Ed like a burning, falling star.

“There are worse things to be,” Stede breathes back, taking a slow step in. It presses Ed closer back along the shelf as Stede’s fingers slide gently to his neck; his eyes fall shut despite himself as Stede leans right in, stroking a thumb along his jaw.

“Away from you, for instance,” Stede finishes, barely audible as he whispers the words to Ed’s lips. Ed draws in a breath to respond, to plead or protest or something in between, but Stede’s lips cover his before he has the chance.

He can’t do this, Ed thinks wildly; he can’t keep cutting away at Ed’s defenses with the lightest presses of fingers and lips, with words softer than silk and sweeter than honey. He can’t pretend Ed isn’t a terrible, broken thing, ready to shatter at the slightest suggestion and slice open everything around him on the jagged shards. He can’t just fucking love him like this, not after everything he’s done and everything he hasn’t. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t—

But he does, and Ed is running out of ways to stop him. His fingers fist into Stede’s shirt as Stede’s lips move eagerly against his, and Stede gives a low hum of approval, hands circling Ed’s waist to pull their bodies flush together again. Ed draws in a sharp breath as they press together, all other thought falling swiftly out of his head as he feels Stede still hard in his clothes.

He groans low into Stede’s mouth, knowing his own interest has hardly wavered and certain Stede can feel the same; by the time Ed’s hips are rolling into his, Ed is already beginning to forget why the fuck they stopped doing this on the bed in the first place, heat rocketing through him as he suddenly begins shoving Stede backwards with the kiss.

Stede gasps and goes, clutching Ed close as Ed’s lips fall hotly back to his neck, and then Ed begins to lose track of where he ends and Stede begins, because then Stede’s nails are raking down his back and Ed is yanking at Stede’s shirt, or Stede is shoving at the trousers still hanging off Ed’s hips as Ed pins him back to the shelves—

Stede pulls Ed’s lips back to his with fiery intent and a grip in Ed’s hair that sends shockwaves of heat straight to his hips, and Ed doesn’t even remember when he started pulling open Stede’s pants, letting loose another ravenous noise into Stede’s mouth as his fingers find Stede’s cock. Stede gasps and arches and fucking melts at the touch, fingers suddenly flying to a shelf beside him to hold himself steady as he bucks into Ed’s touch.

“Fuck, look at you,” Ed murmurs, watching Stede shudder and moan beneath Ed’s loose grip around him. “Fucking want it, Stede? Is that what you came back for?”

“I came back for you,” Stede grits out, panting as his head drops back against a shelf with a thud. “Shit, Ed—”

“You think you can handle me?” Ed murmurs as he presses in closer, pushing the words right into Stede’s cheek as he thumbs over the slick head of Stede’s cock. “Handle this? Said you could take anything I give you, didn’t you?”

Stede moans, nodding swiftly without hesitation, fingers flying up to Ed’s shoulder now as he rocks his hips desperately into Ed’s fist. “Anything,” he pants like a challenge, “fuck—anything, Ed, I want you—”

“You want my cock?” Ed says, and he’s forgetting now whether he’s taunting him or asking sincerely, watching Stede’s cheeks flush and his lips part with a delicious, startled moan as Ed’s gaze flies over his face. “Huh? Want me to give it to you, Stede? Should I fuck you right here?”

He doesn’t expect Stede to drag him in for another kiss, doesn’t expect the heated yes that escapes between their mouths, and Ed has to catch himself dizzily against the shelf as Stede suddenly pulls Ed’s hand away. He steps away for ten seconds or ten minutes, Ed is reeling too hard to know for sure; when he comes back, he shoves a small jar into Ed’s hand, and his lips are back on Ed’s in an instant, frenzied and eager as he sinks hands into Ed’s hair. Ed falls back into it like tipping headfirst down a waterfall, forgetting to even wonder where the hell Stede managed to find a lingering jar of oil in this empty, godforsaken cabin.

He presses Stede back with the kiss, fierce and demanding and relentless, teeth catching on Stede’s lip to tug until he pulls a gasp from Stede’s throat. Ed doesn’t pause before pressing deeper, licking into Stede’s mouth with a sharp-edged heat, stealing every breath he can coax from Stede’s lungs until Stede is panting against him.

Ed kisses as if he’s still got something to prove, like Stede isn’t suddenly doing the work of shoving down his own trousers before Ed has the chance. He kicks them off and reaches for Ed next, fingers circling Ed’s cock to jerk him slowly with a go ahead, come on, I want it on his tongue, and finally Ed remembers himself enough to draw back, hands falling to Stede’s hips to turn him roughly around.

Stede gasps as his front hits the empty shelves. It’s only a short few moments before Ed is pressing him there firmly with a hand at his back, sliding slick fingers down to glide right along Stede’s entrance.

Stede hisses with the feeling, hips stuttering at the touch, and something in Ed’s gut twists as he imagines taking his time, easing Stede into every loving moment of this, trading slow, sweet kisses as Ed finds every way possible to make him feel good—

Instead, Ed presses a slick fingertip in without reserve, and Stede groans, shuddering around the touch as his fingers curl tightly over the bookshelves.

“Have you done this before?” Ed asks breathlessly, trying valiantly to sound anything but awed at the heat of Stede’s body or full of desperate longing. “Have—fuck—have you ever—”

“This, y—yes,” Stede pants, fingers tensing again as Ed works his finger in deeper, smooth and slow. “Not… I’ve never had anyone’s—”

“Fuck,” Ed mutters, crowding Stede closer against the shelves as he begins working slowly in and out of Stede’s body. Stede gasps each time Ed presses deeper, a higher sound working its way out of his throat as his hips begin rocking back for the touch. He’s—fuck, he’s fucking beautiful, Ed can’t even pretend to deny it; his back arches obscenely, expression torn apart by desire, and Ed begins to lose himself in it without meaning to.

“I—I can take more,” Stede murmurs breathlessly, and Ed inhales sharply as he comes back to himself. The hand on Stede’s back grows firmer again, thrusts growing sharper. He’s in control, he reminds himself; he’s fearsome, he knows what he’s doing, he’s not weighed down by ridiculous, sad fucking feelings—

Stede moans as Ed lets another finger draw against him, teasing and slow. He’s already pressing back for it, and Ed’s heart is already racing. “Yes—”

“Fucking hell,” Ed groans, pressing his forehead to the curve of Stede’s shoulder as he obliges easily, slipping in a second finger alongside the first as Stede gasps raggedly, pushing back on Ed’s fingers. “Fuck, Stede, you’re so—you’re already—”

“You think I haven’t done this?” Stede asks suddenly, turning to catch a glimpse of Ed over his shoulder. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are dark with a fierce glint, lips parted with heavy breaths. “Hell, Ed, you think I haven’t—oh, god—haven’t fucked myself this way and—fuck, thought of you?”

Fuck. Fuck, holy fucking—

“I told you,” Stede goes on, dropping his forehead back to the shelf before him as he cants his hips sharply back onto Ed’s fingers, “I can take it. Anything—fuck, anything you give me, Ed—I want you—”

Ed gives him a sharper thrust that steals his words, listening as they disappear into a gasping moan. He stops holding back then, fucks his slick fingers quick and rough into Stede’s body, chasing every heat-drenched sound from his lungs that he can and biting back his own moans as Stede grinds back hard into the touch. Ed practically sways on his feet at the impossible sounds Stede gives back to him, wrecked little noises of pleasure like Stede’s never felt so good—good, like this is so, so good, like Ed himself is—

Ed suddenly goes still within him, holding Stede in place as he slowly begins drawing his fingers out. Stede’s legs shake as he whines at the feeling, quick breaths huffing past his lips as Ed shoves him around again without warning, pressing Stede’s back firmly along the shelves this time as Stede looks on with wild-eyed question.

Ed’s hands only shake a little as he slicks his cock generously, as he crowds in to reach for Stede’s hips and hold him tight. Stede gasps as Ed hoists him up without warning, bracing him against the shelves, satisfaction curling through Ed’s belly as Stede’s legs wrap around him without hesitation.

“Ed, fuck,” Stede manages, then clutches Ed’s hair with another uneven breath as Ed’s cock pushes right against him, hot and hard. “Oh, god, yes—”

“Yeah,” Ed pants in agreement, sliding his hands beneath the curve of Stede’s arse to angle him, groaning as his cock begins pressing into Stede’s body. “Oh, fuck, Stede, yeah—”

Stede arches with a bone-deep, pleasured moan as his hips rock down, trying eagerly to work himself down around Ed’s cock. Ed is fucking dizzy with it, heat licking straight up his spine as he obliges quickly, holding Stede tightly as he begins sinking deeper with shallow little thrusts up into his heat. Stede’s head tips heavily back against the shelves as he moans Ed’s name without restraint, releasing it into the room like a pleasure-soaked prayer, hips rolling to meet every one of Ed’s movements.

“Oh—oh, god, Edward,” Stede says between gasps, “oh, that’s—good, Christ, you feel—so good—”

Ed goes still, finally pressed fully inside Stede, who’s panting out quick, mindless praises like they were made to live on his tongue. They fall from him like nothing, like the very air they’re sharing, like stars from the sky or heavenly rainfall from the clouds, dissolving with sharp, stinging sizzles on Ed’s burning skin.

Ed groans as his forehead drops to Stede’s shoulder, finally rocking his hips up sharply. Stede gives a gorgeous little cry, legs tightening around Ed’s body and fingers tensing in his hair, and Ed can’t help but repeat the motion, pulled swiftly into a quick, eager rhythm by Stede’s tugging fingers and rocking hips.

Fucking hell, Stede is loud. Ed buries all his groans in Stede’s clothed chest, but Stede can’t shut the hell up; he moans Ed’s name like he’s never felt an ounce of shame in his life, hisses curses into the air each time Ed thrusts at an angle that makes his body ripple with pleasure, gasps and cries out when Ed bites at his neck and quickens his pace.

Ed’s never felt like this, like his lungs are crushing in on themselves with the sheer force of the longing in his bones. Stede cards fingers through his hair and tells him in a rush how he’s perfect, oh god, so good, you’re so good—and suddenly Ed feels like he can’t fucking breathe.

He gasps as his eyes sting, stomach twisting as he buries his face in Stede’s shoulder. The pace between them is frantic and hot enough to singe, and Ed’s fingers are suddenly clutching so tightly at Stede that he can feel his nails digging in, an acidic burn in his lungs as he tries to force air into them around a swelling, painful lump in his throat—

The sob he lets out into Stede’s shoulder is strangled and ugly, and Stede gasps as the rhythm in his movements falters, suddenly grasping at Ed’s hair. He tries to draw Ed’s face back and Ed gives an immediate sound of protest, turning to bite another kiss to Stede’s neck and feeling a shocking dampness on his own cheeks.

Stede hisses at the sharpness of Ed’s teeth, legs tensing around Ed’s hips as he pants words into the space around them, half-moans that come out colored with concern. “Ed—Ed, fuck, are you—hell—”

There’s a bang then, a clamor, the startling rush of the cabin door bursting open because the entire fucking universe is conspiring against Ed, and his whole world grinds to a halt.

“Captain Bonnet, we—oh, god!” Lucius exclaims as his eyes find them, shifting wildly from panic to shock and right back to panic. “Oh, shit, Jesus—”

“I told you!” Oluwande is already scolding, grabbing at Lucius’ arm to drag him towards the door. “Fucking hell, mate—”

“Sorry, sorry, it just sounded like you might be getting stabbed to death or something—I mean, not like this, I didn’t really think—like, I figured eventually, just not this quickly—”

“Get out!” Stede suddenly barks, and Ed’s gaze tears away from the crew members and back to Stede, only now having realized he’s spent the past several moments motionless, staring and too stunned to react, tears still clouding his vision and Stede still wrapped around him, pinned against the wall. “Fuck off, leave us alone now—”

“I’m sorry!” Lucius repeats frantically as he finally rushes for the door, “Sorry, shit, please don’t try to kill me again, thanks!”

The door slams shut once more, and the room falls so silent that Ed can nearly hear his own racing heartbeat. He breathes harshly into the space between them, head spinning so madly he can hardly see straight; Stede is heavy in his arms, braced against the shelves with their hips locked together in the memory of their heated rhythm from moments ago, now achingly still.

“Ed.” Stede’s breathless whisper is so jarring it could be a shout right into Ed’s ear, and Ed’s eyes find his wildly. He flinches without meaning to as Stede’s fingers come to his cheek, and he suddenly shakes his head as he slams unceremoniously back into reality. Stede gives a soft noise of surprise as Ed begins shifting to move away, legs tightening at once around Ed as if on instinct.

“What—hey, hey,” Stede breathes urgently, brows drawing together as he clutches Ed’s shoulder, but Ed shakes his head again, avoiding Stede’s gaze as fresh tears fill his eyes, gently drawing out of Stede’s body to begin letting him down. Stede gives a shuddering little gasp as Ed pulls out of him, catching himself on shaky legs when his feet hit the ground, but he clutches earnestly at Ed’s shirt, trying to keep him close. “Ed—please, it’s all right—we can keep going if you—”

Ed lets out a choked little noise, close to a laugh and not nearly as light. He reaches up for Stede’s wrists to pry his hands off his shirt, shoving them back without heat in his grip before stumbling backwards, finally turning to begin walking away.

He can’t stop the tears this time, can’t keep holding his emotions at bay. He’s tried since the moment Izzy growled at him through clenched teeth to turn himself back into a monster, and he’s been tripping over each feeling since the moment Stede stepped on deck again. Aching need, searing pain, desperate longing—throttling, horrible, devastating love, the kind he’s tried to crush beneath his feet and grind into the floorboards without a breath of success.

It’s shaking loose at last, coming unlodged from the blackened, tarred chambers of his heart, and he feels like he’s caving in on himself when another sob tears from his throat, hot tears spilling down his cheeks as he catches himself against a wall.

“Ed,” Stede breathes from behind him, and Ed can hear his footsteps as he rushes up close, a gnawing sort of agony clawing at his chest as Stede’s gentle hands come to his back, his shoulders. “Ed, what’s—please, what’s wrong?”

Ed doesn’t have the strength to shake him off anymore; the only small mercy of the moment is Stede’s undemanding touch, not so much as urging Ed to turn and face him. If he pulled, if he so much as nudged, Ed would sway to it immediately, would turn and crash back into Stede like the tides desperately chasing the moon.

“Talk to me,” Stede pleads softly, fingers skating over the back of Ed’s shoulder, curling gently around his arm. “Please, Edward. I’m right here.”

Ed takes in a sharp breath.

Because he wasn’t. For the longest time, he hadn’t been here. For the longest time, he’d left Ed alone to rot, and Ed had gorged himself on the misery until it was all that was left of him.

“Why did you leave me?” It leaves Ed’s lips in a shaking whisper, fraught with shame, with an agony that echoes in his chest like cannonfire. It’s been aching in his throat since Stede first landed back in his line of sight—since even longer, stretching all the way to a lonely night on a dock, staring out at endless unknowns that could swallow him whole.

Stede lets go of a rush of breath that Ed feels faintly on the back of his neck.

“I’ve been trying to explain all this time,” he breathes gently. “Since the second I got on the ship, Edward, I’ve been trying—”

“So fucking explain, then,” Ed snaps, glancing off to the side, not quite over his shoulder. Stede’s breath stutters, but he doesn’t draw back.

“I was a coward,” Stede says at last, quiet and riddled with remorse. “I was so—so lost in my own mistakes, Ed, I was so scared—”

Ed goes tense. Stede’s touch strokes swiftly down his spine, soothing and warm, as if to head off the thoughts Stede can see forming in his mind.

“Not of you,” he insists gently. “I was scared of—this, of myself. It felt like everything I touched would die or break or fall apart. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t bear to do that to you. To us, to… the wonderful moment we had on that beach.”

Ed swallows hard, pressing his eyes shut against the memory. He’s long since stopped letting himself recall it, too raw from the spikes sinking into his heart again and again. Stede’s fingers splay against his back before he can get a word out in response.

“I wanted to protect you,” Stede says softly. “And I was—I know I was wrong. I know I only hurt you instead, and… I would spend the rest of my life making up for that, if you’d let me.”

His life. The rest of his life. Like he plans to—like he would spend it here, at Ed’s side; like he would stay—

“I’m sorry,” Stede finishes at last. Slowly, Ed feels him draw closer, feels a soft kiss pressed to the back of Ed’s neck. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize I loved you. But I’m here, Ed, and I… I love you more than words can say. I won’t leave you again. Not ever.”

The force of the sobs threatening to leave Ed’s chest are becoming overwhelming now, leaving a tremor in his shoulders that he’s certain Stede can feel. He pulls in a deep breath, then slowly, carefully presses back into Stede’s warmth, tentative and minute.

Stede presses back, catching him, holding him, hands sliding carefully to Ed’s waist as he sighs shakily against his neck. Ed begins growing weaker on his feet instantly, crumbling brick by brick until he finally turns to meet Stede’s gaze again, tense and held together by mere delicate threads.

Stede’s own eyes are filled with tears when their gazes meet, and he pulls in a soft, sharp breath as he surveys Ed swiftly.

“Oh, Ed,” he whispers, and Ed shatters to pieces in his hands.

He doesn’t feel himself hit the ground, doesn’t feel the heaving sobs wracking his body, doesn’t feel Stede follow him down. He hardly even hears the spill of words from Stede’s lips; they sound like promises, apologies and benedictions all wrapped into one, but Ed can’t be sure. He can’t make sense of anything at all beyond Stede’s arms tight around him, the warmth of Stede’s neck as Ed clings to him and cries, the salty smell of sweat and the sea left on Stede’s collar by his journey back to Ed.

“My love,” Stede breathes, and it’s the first thing Ed manages to latch onto, a lifeline out at sea. He drags in a shaking breath to speak, finds the words choked by another sob, and tries again until he manages a voice.

“I fucking hate you,” Ed gasps, fingers curling desperately into Stede’s shirt to keep him close. “I hate—fuck, Stede—hate you—”

“I know,” Stede whispers, arms winding tighter around Ed’s waist as he buries the words in Ed’s hair, pained and sorrowful. “I know.”

Another choked sob wrenches itself out of Ed’s chest, and he presses his face into the crook of Stede’s neck.

“I love you,” he whispers next, trembling as he clings to Stede with every inch of strength in his limbs. “I can’t stop fucking loving you.”

Stede draws in a deeper breath, sliding a hand up Ed’s back to clutch at his hair. He rubs fingers across Ed’s scalp, hugging him so close it could force the air from Ed’s lungs, and Ed wouldn’t care if it did. He’d rather die right here in Stede’s arms than let him go again.

“I know,” Stede murmurs again. It sounds like comfort this time, like safety, like promises etched on his heart and inked right into Ed’s skin. “I know.”

He keeps Ed warm and secure in his arms for longer than Ed is sure of while Ed feels everything in the world. He whispers warm words, kisses Ed’s hair and holds him tight, and tells him he loves him more times than Ed can count. Ed lets him.

***

Ed has made almost as much of a mess of Stede’s face as he’s made of his own. He doesn’t realize it until they rise from the floor—Stede on solid feet, Ed on shaking, exhausted legs—and he takes a real look at Stede, finally noticing the black smudges littering his face and neck where Ed’s cheeks and jaw have dragged along his own.

“You look fucking ridiculous,” Ed mutters, and Stede laughs, golden and light.

“I doubt I look more ridiculous than you do,” Stede counters gently, and Ed glares without heat. The kohl had seemed intimidating and menacing at the time. Now he feels a bit fucking stupid for it.

“S’not very comfortable, anyway,” Ed admits, reaching up to itch absently at his jaw. “Pain to clean off, too.”

At that, Stede brightens.

“Would you like some help?” he asks softly. Ed hesitates, tempted to let his guard fly back up, but Stede’s fond little smile cripples it on impact. Tentatively, he nods instead. Stede beams and draws him along to the en-suite.

“You look lovely this way,” Stede murmurs while he’s wiping gently at Ed’s face. “Without the beard, I mean.”

Ed blinks with surprise, frowning in slight confusion. “Didn’t seem to think so when you first saw me without it.”

Stede sighs a little regretfully, rinsing the cloth in the water basin before squeezing it out, then coming back to continue his gentle ministrations. “It wasn’t about the beard,” Stede murmurs quietly. “Not really. I’d think you looked lovely no matter what, Ed.”

Under ordinary circumstances, Ed would never blush. He’s never blushed in his whole life, probably. He’s too fearsome for it, too intimidating and frankly too cool.

But he might blush now. A bit.

When their faces are both cleaned, Stede wraps his fingers around Ed’s with a certainty that catches Ed off-guard, drawing him through the empty cabin and right to the bed.

“You look exhausted,” Stede says softly before Ed can find a way to admit as much. He lifts his brows, once again surprised, having thought with a faint, stirring heat in his belly that perhaps Stede would want—

“We should both sleep,” he goes on simply, gently manhandling Ed until he can press him down into the sheets, and Ed frowns, heart already speeding up to the rhythm of panic as he grabs a little frantically at Stede’s sleeve. He can already imagine Stede leaving him here, walking off towards the door with his stupid, gentlemanly sensibilities, giving Ed space that Ed would rather die than have.

“Don’t—”

“I’m staying,” he assures Ed calmly, already shifting down beside him, and fuck, the bed’s small, and fuck, that’s sort of fine, actually, because Stede presses right in close, snaking an arm around Ed’s waist as he settles in against him.

Ed has to blink rapidly a few times to orient himself in the moment. He’s never been held this way before, he realizes with an odd jolt. He’s scarcely shared a bed at all—not even with the people he’s fucked, considering most of them fucked off right afterwards.

“Oh,” Ed breathes simply. His arm settles tentatively over Stede’s, and sweet ripples of warmth radiate out from each light press of lips that Stede begins leaving against his neck.

Ed turns his head to face him, surveying Stede’s peaceful, content expression in slight confusion. They’re both still bare from the waist down, and Stede is plastered so close against him that his half-hard cock is hardly subtle. Nor is Ed’s, for that matter, now that Stede is pressed against him head to foot, close and intimate and a little staggering.

“I thought—” Ed begins, but hesitates as he shifts his hips, resulting in soft inhales from both of them at the light contact. “I thought you’d want to finish what we started,” he breathes tentatively, frowning a little. “Unless you… I mean, unless you don’t actually want—”

“Don’t be stupid,” Stede huffs, only it’s overwhelmingly fond, rather than sharp or pointed. He turns and brushes a kiss to Ed’s shoulder, holding him tighter. “I want you, Ed. My god, I want you.”

Ed pulls in a slow, deep breath, shifting in the sheets until he’s facing Stede in the small space of the bed, swallowing. He lifts his fingers to Stede’s chin, hesitating only a moment before drawing him in slowly, letting their lips meet carefully in a kiss.

It’s gentler than most of the others they’ve shared so far today, riddled with a tentative thrill that could rival their kiss on the beach. Ed sighs in a soft rush as he catches Stede’s lips fervently, fingers drawing up Stede’s side as he coaxes his lips apart with a hot sweep of his tongue. Stede meets him inch for inch, letting out a soft sound as their tongues meet hot in the middle, and only then does Ed draw off gently, considerably more breathless.

“We could,” Ed offers, the words slipping right into Stede’s mouth as they linger close enough for their lips to brush. His fingers skate back down Stede’s side, trailing to his bare hip and lingering there, tracing slow circles into the skin to occupy his buzzing fingers, itching to touch him properly. “We don’t even—I can be quick, I could just—”

“Ed,” Stede breathes back firmly. His fingers alight on Ed’s wrist—not catching him or pulling him back, simply resting there lightly—and he shakes his head quietly. “That’s not what I want with you. Not tonight.”

Ed frowns again, unable to help the sting of rejection flaring up inside his chest. “So you don’t want—?”

“I want,” Stede interrupts gently, “to take our time. I want to take care of you. And right now, that means rest.”

The sting calms somewhat, though not entirely. Ed’s frown is still potent as he looks back and forth between Stede’s eyes, sighing slowly in silent resignation and letting his fingers relax against Stede’s hip. Stede smiles softly, comforting, and the sting calms further.

His fingers wrap around Ed’s wrist now, drawing Ed’s hand up to his lips to kiss his palm, then scatter small kisses across his fingertips, leaving Ed shivering and a little breathless.

“I want you to trust me, Ed,” Stede whispers. “I promise you, we have all the time in the world.” The notion alone nearly brings Ed to tears—might have done, in fact, if Ed hadn’t cried every last drop out a short while ago. “I’ll still be here in the morning. Every morning. Rest.”

Finally, Ed nods. The sting in his chest is gone now, replaced by a soft, steady pulsing, warm with Stede’s gaze on him and full of hope for the morning. Every morning.

At last, he closes his eyes. He falls asleep with Stede’s fingers in his hair, trailing through it in steady, loving passes.

***

Ed wakes up warm.

It’s different than the way he’s woken up for months, cold and aching and empty, feeling lonelier than he’d ever felt for most of the years he spent alone. He’s warm, and he has to pull open heavy eyelids and see the chest he’s lying on for himself to be convinced it’s not a dream.

Stede is back. Stede is here. Stede’s hand is tangled in his hair like he fell asleep stroking it. Stede’s breaths are even and deep beneath him, real and steady and solid and warm and here.

He stayed.

Ed shifts his head slowly to gaze up at him, blinking sleepily as morning light streams in through the windows. Stede is peaceful and relaxed—so much so that Ed can’t resist reaching up, brushing a thumb lightly against his jaw, letting fingers trail back into his hair.

He recalls Stede being a heavy sleeper, but perhaps he’d been wrong, or perhaps things have changed—or perhaps Stede sleeps more lightly when a man who loves him is draped across his front, waking up in his arms for the first time in their lives—because Stede suddenly draws in a slow, deep breath beneath Ed, gently beginning to stir. His eyes flutter open after long moments, and he meets Ed’s gaze, blinking as he focuses.

A sleepy smile warms his face like the break of day itself, and Ed’s heart might give out on the spot.

“Hi,” Stede breathes, rough with sleep and sounding delighted, and Ed wishes with a sigh that he could kiss that voice. He might be able to settle for waking up to it forever.

“Hey,” Ed mumbles back, gazing longingly up at Stede, and promptly runs out of words. The night before feels like a dream, something like a fantasy and a nightmare. A riptide of emotion, sharp enough to cut and sweet enough to heal. Stede in the eye of a hurricane, Ed whipped up in the storm, the grasp of Stede’s fingers the only thing anchoring him to reality.

Thankfully, Stede has more words than Ed. He always has, Ed supposes.

“How are you feeling?” Stede asks gently, and Ed might have come up with a coherent response a second ago, but now Stede’s fingers are moving carefully against his face, stroking his hair back from his forehead, and for a moment, Ed doesn’t even remember his own name.

His eyelids flutter as he fights for focus; it comes, but narrows to the wrong thing. The drag of Stede’s nails is the center of his world, sending shivers cascading across his scalp and down his shoulders.

“I’m…” Ed tries softly, then loses it to a light shudder as Stede’s touch trails down his hair, passes over the nape of his neck and pulls down his back. It’s dulled just enough by Ed’s shirt that he manages to catch his breath for a moment, head clearing enough to reply. “Good, ‘m—yeah. Yeah.”

Stede chuckles a little, and Ed’s eyes open again to blink up at him. There’s a light smirk on his lips, knowing and fond, and Ed frowns a touch indignantly.

“Sorry,” Stede breathes before Ed can say a word. His hands relaxes against Ed’s back, and that’s—fuck, that’s a different sort of dizzying, Ed supposes. Warm, familiar weight, like Stede’s hand has always belonged there and has only now found its place. “Didn’t mean to tease. Just looked like you were enjoying it.”

Ed sinks back down against his chest, a little petulant as he shuts his eyes again. “I was,” he finally admits in a mumble.

A pause, and then Stede’s fingers begin traveling again, nails pulling lightly back up to Ed’s scalp, pushing through his hair. Ed melts to the touch like ice beneath the high noon sun, letting go of the sort of purring little shudder he didn’t know lived inside him.

Stede laughs outright this time, a fond, ringing sound throughout the quiet space around them, but his touch doesn’t pause. Ed tries to shoot him a glare, but finds it rather difficult to muster when Stede’s fingers are lighting up his every nerve ending from the inside out.

“Fuck,” Ed groans quietly instead.

“Wish I’d known you were like this before,” Stede chuckles. “Yesterday might have gone quite a bit smoother.”

Ed gives a low hmph into Stede’s chest. He’s quiet for a long beat, relaxing into Stede’s touch against him before pulling a slow breath into his lungs.

“I like when you touch me,” he murmurs softly. “I’ve always liked it. S’why I’ve always…” He trails off, blinking as his cheeks suddenly heat. He still wonders sometimes how much Stede used to notice, back when things were simple between them; how many things Stede recognized as Ed’s brazen affections, rather than only thoughtless gestures between friends.

He wonders if Stede made gestures too—if Ed simply missed them, or if he overlooked them out of fear of making mountains out of molehills.

“I always wondered,” Stede says softly. Ed is so stunned to hear the echo of his own thoughts from Stede’s lips that he looks up at him at once. “You’ve always touched me so much,” he muses aloud. “And you weren’t like that with others. Not even the ones you knew well.” He takes a deep breath, his gentle smile stretching a touch wider. “In my… wildest fantasies, I liked to think it meant something.”

Ed thinks, quite suddenly, that he’d like to hear more about Stede’s wildest fantasies. Quite a bit more. For now, he simply swallows quietly, holding Stede’s gaze with a slow exhale.

“It meant everything,” he breathes at last.

Stede’s touch slows, then stills in Ed’s hair at the words. Something heavy settles over Stede’s expression that Ed can’t place; it sits in the lines of his face, creases his brow and darkens his eyes. When Stede’s fingers move again, they curl into Ed’s hair to grasp it gently, and Ed’s heart is pulled right into his throat, as if on a thread attached to Stede’s palm.

“Come here,” Stede whispers with the gentlest tug at Ed’s hair, and Ed moves quicker than he ought to, quicker than he’s ever leaped to obey another man’s order. He pushes up slowly until he’s drawing level with Stede, gazing at him across the pillow as they settle on their sides; without a word, Stede pulls him in, drawing Ed’s lips to his for a kiss.

The breath in Ed’s lungs grows thin and wavering as he tenses, then slowly relaxes. He falls into the kiss like it’s the gleaming ocean itself, cool and refreshing on a blazing summer afternoon. Stede’s lips are slow and purposeful, catching Ed’s own in soft, unhurried mentions. Ed follows his lead with tenuous restraint, shuddering with longing as his fingers settle at Stede’s cheek, then draw carefully down his jaw.

Stede gives a soft sound, jaw relaxing to Ed’s touch, and suddenly he’s opening up against Ed like a tempting invitation. He moans softly into Ed’s mouth as their tongues brush, hot and sweet, and Ed loses the careful grip on his patient demeanor, moaning back as his fingers push back into Stede’s hair and clutch.

A quiet gasp rushes past Stede’s lips, and Ed can practically hear the sudden snap of tension in the air between them. He surges forward without hesitation, lips crashing back to Stede’s with intent now, ravenous and desperate; Stede gives only the briefest sound of surprise before meeting Ed enthusiastically, an eager little noise finding its way into the space between their lips. Before Ed can stop himself, he’s pushing up over him, rolling Stede decisively onto his back to climb eagerly atop his hips.

Stede looks ready to drag him back down when Ed beats him to the punch, fingers still clutching Stede’s hair to pull him up for the next kiss. Ed can feel the frenzy creeping into his bones, the frantic need beginning to stir in his hips; he doesn’t even think before rocking down against Stede, and Stede gives a sharp sound into the kiss that Ed can taste on his own tongue.

He tears his lips away from Stede’s at last only to begin kissing a fiery trail down his neck, mouth hot and open against Stede’s skin. Stede gasps as Ed sucks a blazing kiss right over his racing pulse, a moan falling from his lips, and fuck, Ed wants to taste that sound, parts his lips and drags his tongue along Stede’s throat to chase the next noise out of his lungs.

“Ed,” Stede gasps. Ed is already sliding lower down his body, fingers hurried as they push beneath Stede’s shirt; his hands stretch over Stede’s skin, thumbing over a nipple, and Ed groans quietly as Stede hisses beneath him. He leans down quickly to tease with his mouth next, but Stede suddenly tightens his grip in Ed’s hair, keeping him in place and forcing Ed’s gaze back to his.

“Slow down,” Stede says breathlessly, brow drawing earnestly together. “I’m not going anywhere, yeah? We don’t need to rush.”

It sounds like the most ridiculous fucking thing Ed’s ever heard, actually. He lets out a low growl instead, reaching down to yank his shirt up and off before reaching for Stede’s again, drawing it up his body with purpose now. Stede doesn’t resist in the slightest, letting Ed yank it off and toss it away, but falls back to the sheets with a huff once it’s gone, looking a touch exasperated.

“Terrible at taking orders, aren’t you?” Stede mutters.

“Always have been,” Ed agrees swiftly, then lets his lips fall right back to Stede’s, hot and demanding as he presses his hips down once more.

Stede gasps into the kiss with a breathless oh, god caught in his throat, and Ed gives a dark sound of agreement, bracing himself with a hand beside Stede’s head as he repeats the motion. He breaks away to watch Stede’s expression shift from annoyance to melting pleasure as Ed moves over him; Ed bites back his own groan at the sparks of pleasure dancing up his spine already, falling easily into steady, grinding motions together.

“Fuck,” he murmurs darkly, fingers curling into the sheets as their hips drag together. Satisfaction flares through him like a shot fired in the dark as Stede arches up away from the bed into the contact, lips parted in a gasp of pleasure, and Ed can’t help the smirk that flickers across his lips.

“God, that’s right,” he breathes encouragingly, slipping a hand beneath Stede’s hips to guide him into the rolling movements together. “Fuck, yeah—get what you want, Stede, that’s it—”

“Shit,” Stede pants softly, fingers suddenly tightening again in Ed’s hair as his movements falter. He drops his hips back to the bed, relaxing back to the sheets as he finds his voice again. “Ed, darling—you don’t need to—”

The word still has teeth, sharp and razor-like, and Ed’s mind revolts against it before his heart can decide how to feel. He slides a firm hand down to pin Stede’s hips to the bed, grinding pointedly along him again until he pulls another moan out of Stede’s lungs.

“S’fine,” Ed breathes down to him, heart racing and impatient. “You want me to fuck you, right? Huh? Just like yesterday, finish you off properly this time—”

“Ed, fuck—”

“Yeah—hell, I’ll fuck you so well, Stede—so good, you’ll feel it all day afterwards—”

“Christ,” Stede moans, eyes pressing shut, hands finally sliding down to clutch Ed’s hips firmly, stilling him in place. “Hang on, Ed, let’s—god, let’s just take our time—”

Ed lets out a sharp sound of frustration without quite meaning to, head dropping forward impatiently on his shoulders as he goes maddeningly still above Stede. Stede sighs shakily, a satisfied exhale against Ed’s hair as he reaches up to stroke it slowly.

“I want this,” Stede murmurs reassuringly. His fingers move carefully, head tilting into Ed’s. “I do, Ed. But there’s no need to—”

Ed parts his lips and bites Stede’s neck, hot and sharp and rough. It’s defiant, angry, some piece of him still distinctly uninterested in listening to a fucking thing Stede has to say, and Stede inhales sharply with surprise.

“For god’s sake,” Stede suddenly growls, and before Ed knows it, Stede is gripping him roughly to roll them over with startling strength. Ed gives a surprised sound as Stede drops him decisively into the sheets, pinning him there with his weight atop Ed’s hips.

Ed blinks up at Stede rapidly, something equal parts hot and comforting rushing through him the second he finds himself pinned in place. Stede leans down to catch Ed’s wrists for good measure, pushing them to the sheets at either side of his head until Ed is decidedly immobile beneath him, staring up at Stede with wide eyes and a racing heart.

“Stop it,” Stede hisses over his lips. “Stop trying to rush this, stop assuming what I want—stop worrying I’m going to run out the second we’re finished, and do as you’re told. Slow down, Edward.”

Ed’s heart stutters and stops and picks up speed several times over as Stede speaks. His lips part speechlessly, breath shaky as it leaves his lungs. Moments ago, his head was spinning like a top, careening recklessly from moment to moment; now, it feels empty, calm and quiet, dead to anything that isn’t Stede surrounding him this way.

Fucking hell.

Stede’s touch on one of Ed’s wrists lightens, then disappears, fingers coming instead to settle against Ed’s cheek. He strokes it slowly, tilting his head as he surveys Ed beneath him.

“How about,” he breathes, voice coming gentler already as he leans down closer, “you let me try being in charge for once, hm?”

Ed’s eyes widen. He blinks up at Stede wildly again, searching for words as he wonders what Stede means, what he wants, what he’s imagining, what he could do—

“You lie back, darling,” Stede coaxes softly, fingers trailing down from Ed’s cheek to his chest, pressing him warmly in place, “and let me take care of you.” He pauses then, takes in Ed’s utter inability to string together a single sentence in response, sighing gently and rubbing a thumb back and forth along his collarbone. “You’ve been strong for so long, Edward. Don’t you think it’s about time you let someone else take control?”

If Stede had fired a cannonball directly into Ed’s chest at point-blank range, it would have left Ed less breathless than this.

This is absurd. This is fucking ridiculous, Ed doesn’t—Ed’s never been this way, Ed’s never wanted this, never felt like this, never been staring up at someone above him in bed and wondering how it would feel to slip into the ease of following their orders, meeting every demand until he’s shivering with delight, swept away into sweet, mindless currents of—fuck.

He drags a breath into his lungs and finds the words he’s supposed to say, sidestepping the invitation—too easy, too terrifying, too uncontrolled—and sliding instead back into what he knows, summoning words to his tongue like his knife to his fingertips.

“You didn’t seem to mind when I was in control yesterday,” he points out darkly. Firm, lilting, low and seductive, fingers already trailing up Stede’s thigh. Ed knows how to play this game, knows perfectly well how to turn the tables on people who think they can get the best of him.

Stede is entirely collected as he reaches down swiftly, catching Ed’s wrist in his grip. “I didn’t,” he says, calm and quiet, leaning down again as he pushes Ed’s wrist back to the bed. His voice drops as he bites out his next words, just sharp enough to send another shock of heat through Ed’s system, foreign and delicious. “But now it’s my turn. And you’re going to behave.”

Ed nearly chokes. Nearly. Focus, fucking focus. This isn’t serious. Stede isn’t serious, no one would ever—not in Ed’s whole life, no one’s ever actually dared—actually wanted—

“You liked when I was in charge,” Ed challenges, wrist suddenly twisting out of Stede’s grip to push himself up. “Everyone fucking does. Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

Stede’s brows lift minutely, shaking his head, and he’s still so fucking calm while Ed’s whole chest is on fire, and Ed is beginning to lose his mind a bit about it. “I’m not pretending anything, darling.”

Well—good, then, Ed thinks, thrown off-balance yet again by the easy admission. Fucking right. Fucking right, he liked it.

“Exactly. Fucking wanted me yesterday, didn’t you?” Ed goes on, because he’s losing track of what else to do, what else to say, horribly fazed by Stede’s utterly unfazed demeanor. The taunting edge from yesterday slips back into his voice, hips pressing up like he can’t stop them, trying to tease against Stede even with Stede’s weight atop him. “Fucking loved it. Couldn’t wait for it, you wanted me so badly, huh?”

Stede pauses then, perhaps the tiniest bit breathless from Ed’s movement beneath him, but frowns as he presses Ed right down again. He lets out a soft breath as he gazes over Ed’s face, voice gentle when he speaks at last. “You say that like there’s something wrong with it,” he huffs quietly. “Is that it? You think I’m—what, weak for wanting you like that?”

It sinks into Ed’s gut like a physical punch. He goes still, so breathlessly wrongfooted that his controlling demeanor slips. “What—no,” he amends in a rush, brows drawing together as he shakes his head quickly. “No, Stede, that’s not what I—”

“I love you, Ed,” Stede interrupts. He doesn’t sound hurt, doesn’t look wounded or defensive; he looks caring, almost concerned, suddenly earnest as he speaks to Ed with desperate, ringing sincerity. “Of course I want you. I want you more than anything. I have for—god, for longer than I could say.”

The air goes out of Ed’s lungs again. Ed stares up at him as Stede shifts down closer, runs his fingers against the angle of Ed’s bare jaw.

“Let me show you,” he whispers. “Let me show you how I love you, Ed. Let me take care of you.”

Ed swallows hard, wondering when a lump managed to grow in his throat. He feels empty of his resolve from moments ago, so dazed with Stede’s sweet, coaxing words that he forgets to do anything but breathe, anything but stare, anything but swallow, mouth dry as a desert. Finally, slow and careful and tentative, he nods.

A small, satisfied smile flickers across Stede’s lips. He holds Ed’s gaze as he sighs and nods back, leaning up slowly over Ed until their gazes draw level, Ed’s eyes following his every movement.

Stede’s hand slips down between them, trailing down Ed’s skin until reaching his cock to curl loosely around it. Ed can’t help the way his eyes flutter instantly shut, lips parting to a soft rush of air at the heat that slips through him. He tries to rock up into it, tries to push Stede further, but Stede simply pushes his hips back down without a word, holding him in place as he graces Ed with a slow, light stroke that sends shivers flying up Ed’s spine.

He repeats the motion, and Ed’s restless hips try desperately to chase the light, teasing touch to no avail. The more anxiously he moves beneath Stede, the more firmly Stede presses him down, and finally Ed collapses back to the sheets despite himself, some strangled sound escaping his lips out of sheer need.

Stede seems to glow with approval as Ed stops writhing beneath him, rewarding him with the brush of his thumb over the slick head of Ed’s cock, running in maddening little circles around the tip until Ed is gasping shakily.

“There you go,” Stede purrs as his cruel, focused touch continues. Ed can’t help the way he melts this time, slowly going boneless as he tips his head back with a low, longing moan, shivering desperately at Stede’s careful motions. “Just like that, Edward. Just let me.”

Ed breathes heavily, brows drawing together as he lets his focus narrow to the heat of Stede’s hand on him, the weight of Stede pressing his hips to the bed. It’s as if the tantalizing pleasure flares brighter for a moment, curls around his spine and spreads like lava down to his fingertips.

“Perfect,” Stede sighs, bending down to kiss Ed’s collarbone. “Now, what do you really want, darling?” It’s warm and honest, like Ed could answer with anything and Stede would give it to him. “You want me to take your cock?”

Ed blinks his eyes open speechlessly, startled to find them a little damp. He tries to say yes through the spinning of his head, but the word doesn’t rise to his lips; he hesitates, and Stede smirks the moment he sees it.

“Or,” Stede suggests quietly, “would you rather be taken apart for a change?” Ed’s eyes widen before turning heavy-lidded again, closing briefly as Stede’s thumb swipes again across the tip of his cock. “Do you want me to fuck you, Edward?”

The sound that leaves Ed’s lips has terribly little to do with Stede’s hand on his cock. Desire rolls through him like a storm pushing in on the horizon, swirling clouds overhead that could swallow him in a heartbeat. Ed lets out something horribly close to a soft whimper, fingers clutching carefully at the sheets beneath him.

After a long, heavy moment of silence, he nods. Stede sighs with clear delight, leaning down to kiss Ed’s chest right over his pounding heart.

“Don’t worry about a thing, my darling,” Stede murmurs reassuringly, hand still working in slow, not-enough motions around Ed’s cock. “You’re going to let me take my time, let me take care of you—and do exactly as I tell you.”

Ed is panting now; he couldn’t hide it if he tried, mind scattered into so many pieces that he hardly remembers how to speak at all. He takes one last valiant stab at defiance despite himself, as if testing the waters, wondering wildly how Stede will react. “And if I don’t?”

Stede arches a brow, hand stilling instantly on Ed’s cock. The embarrassing sound that scrambles out of Ed’s throat would be bad enough, but then Stede shifts, holding Ed down more firmly and letting their hips press together.

Ed gasps at the drag of Stede’s hard cock against his own, mouth falling open in a moan as Stede grinds firmly down along him. His hips are pinned to the sheets, but his hands scrabble up to Stede’s shoulders in an instant, gripping him tightly as he groans with the brilliant, heated friction.

Stede lets him clutch, gives Ed a slow, burning rhythm for dazzling, pleasure-thick seconds—then abruptly goes still above him, holding Ed down as he lifts his hips away.

Ed doesn’t even get a chance to curse or snap or beg or whine before Stede’s lips come to his ear, whispering against it pointedly. “Then you’ll be waiting for my cock until you can learn to behave yourself.”

A stunned sort of heat seizes Ed’s chest at once, tilting down through his stomach and hips like a scalding waterfall. His breaths come harsh and quick as he presses his eyes shut, one hand scrambling up from Stede’s shoulder to anchor into his hair. Stede waits patiently as Ed tries to remember how to think, wondering faintly how the fuck Stede has done this to him so swiftly, turned him into a panting, quivering mess while he clings to Stede like the only thing in the room that’s not spinning.

This is absurd. It’s fucking ridiculous. Ed’s never had the slightest clue he wanted this before; maybe he never has.

When he remembers himself enough to respond, it’s a desperate, wild nod of agreement. To any of it. To all of it. Fuck, he doesn’t know; he barely cares. He’s aching with a need he didn’t know he had, some desperate thing inside him jammed together all jagged and wrong, and Stede knows him better than anyone ever has, has seen more of Ed’s broken edges than Ed has ever shown another soul.

If anyone could pull him apart and put him back together the way he belongs, it’s the only man who’s ever had enough of his heart to break him into pieces in the first place.

Stede is beaming above him like some divine and glowing thing, looking awash with emotion at Ed’s agreement. He releases Ed’s hips to lift his hands to his face instead, pressing down for a long, earnest kiss. It’s a simple press of mouths, nowhere near as filthy as the way Ed’s kissed Stede himself this morning, but Ed can’t help the way it turns him weak, the soft sound that escapes him when Stede pulls back.

“I’ve got you,” Stede whispers, shifting slowly to draw Ed’s legs apart. Ed watches him with rapt attention as he lets Stede rearrange him however he’d like, lifting a tentative hand to thread into soft waves as Stede leans down to place a slow line of kisses down Ed’s skin. His eyes slip shut as he draws in a deep breath, focusing on the press of Stede’s lips down his body, the whisper of his touch as he trails gentle fingers over Ed’s tattoos, tracing them as if committing them to memory. As if he doesn’t already know them; as if, Ed thinks with a small rush of anxiety, he may not get another chance.

The thought lodges itself in Ed’s chest as he blinks his eyes open again, staring up at the ceiling with slow, steady breaths. Tears spring to his eyes again like they can’t stay away, and he tries instantly to blink them away, failing to disguise the tremor to his next exhale.

Stede is too attentive in a room too quiet, too dialed in to Ed’s every movement and sound. His kisses pause as he looks up to Ed’s face, expression falling a little in concern.

“Ed?” he asks gently, thumb pressing over Ed’s hip to run in slow, soothing circles against it. As if that could do anything in this moment other than pull more tears to Ed’s eyes; as if Stede’s every soft touch isn’t enough to break Ed nearly in two, and they’ve hardly even begun.

“‘M fine,” Ed whispers hurriedly, reaching up to wipe at his eyes. “Fuck—keep going, I wanna keep—”

Stede catches Ed’s fingers as they drop from his damp eyes, drawing them smoothly to his lips. He kisses the tears right from Ed’s fingertips before pressing Ed’s hand to his cheek, gazing up at him in silent, patient question.

Ed hesitates, then lets go of another shaking breath.

“This isn’t—” he tries, then loses the words to the lump in his throat. He swallows determinedly around it before trying again. “This isn’t—the last time this happens, right? You’ll still be—I mean, t-tomorrow, or the next day, or—or whenever the fuck, you’ll—you’ll still—?”

“I’ll be here,” Stede breathes swiftly, brow creasing at the concern on Ed’s tongue. He turns his head to kiss Ed’s palm next, then draws his arm up, kissing his wrist. “I’ll always be here, darling. From now on. And I will… always want you.”

Ed finds himself grateful that Stede answered both questions, not even certain himself which one he meant to ask. He relaxes a little again, taking a shuddering breath as he nods, comfort wrapping around him at the sight of Stede’s earnest smile. When Stede’s lips fall back to his skin this time, Ed lets the tension leave him on a rush of air from his lungs, relaxing into the sheets beneath as Stede kisses his way over his skin.

It’s easier than Ed expects to let himself go loose and pliant, to let his breaths go instead of holding them in. Stede’s lips tease lower and lower, and Ed suddenly bites his lip as fingers circle the base of his cock again, stroking smoothly upwards before easing back down. The air in his lungs get caught again as he bites down on a moan; it escapes his lips halfway when Stede begins to stroke him smoothly, leaning down to fan a hot breath over the tip of Ed’s cock.

Another sound, low and bitten-back in Ed’s throat, and Stede suddenly tuts into the quiet space around them.

“Let go, Edward,” he prompts firmly, hand slow and steady on Ed’s cock. “Let it all go. You can be as loud as you like.”

Ed doesn’t expect the way the permission lights up his brain, the way it opens up his lungs as if he can’t help himself. He lets a loud moan fall from his lips as Stede teases clever fingers over the head of his cock again, and Stede’s reaction is almost blinding. A smile breaks over his lips as he ducks down quickly, peppering delighted little kisses across Ed’s skin and dropping words in between.

“Good,” he murmurs fondly, “god, sound so sweet like that, Ed—”

A deeper moan escapes Ed’s chest as the praise sets him aglow even brighter, lit up all the way to the edges of his mind. Stede gives a happy sound right into his skin, warm and encouraging as he sucks hot kisses along Ed’s thigh, fingers finally releasing his cock to trail down lower.

“Go on,” Stede suddenly breathes against his damp skin, fingers pressing carefully down to rub across Ed’s rim, dry and teasing as Ed’s hips jerk against his touch with a gasp. “Go ahead, do that again for me—”

Ed thinks the sound may have wrenched itself from his lungs even without Stede’s encouragement this time. The hot press of fingers is enough to push a horribly desperate moan straight out of Ed’s chest, louder than Ed thought he could be, loud enough to ring throughout the room. Stede presses more firmly, and Ed’s sound climbs straight up into a whine, hips jerking again before he can stop them.

Stede sighs with terrible affection, tilting his head fondly right against Ed’s knee. “Hell, that’s lovely—god, you sound perfect,” Stede whispers. “You’re lovely, you see? So good at doing as you’re told, Ed.”

Ed whimpers as Stede’s fingers suddenly leave his sensitive skin, the praise buzzing pleasantly through him like he’s just downed an entire bottle of rum. It leaves him warmed through to his fingertips and toes, head pleasantly fogged as if he’s sinking into a dream; he only distantly registers Stede’s fingers tapping instead against his hip a moment later.

“Turn over,” Stede whispers, still dropping slow, light kisses to every inch of Ed’s skin he can reach. “On your front.”

Ed nods a little dazedly, needing a moment to remember how to arrange his own body as he slowly begins to shift in the sheets. He pulls himself shakily onto his front, nearly dropping himself into the sheets when Stede suddenly catches his hips, tugging them firmly back towards himself.

“Keep those up for me,” he murmurs, smoothing a hand up Ed’s back to press his front half down to the pillows. Ed gives a soft sound of surprise as he follows Stede’s urging, hips lifted shamelessly as he settles on his knees, shuddering as he finds his cheek pressed right along the pillow. It’s an obscene position in itself, like Ed’s some wanton, desperate thing, silently begging for Stede to have his way with him—

“Oh, perfect,” Stede murmurs, stroking a warm hand down Ed’s spine. “Oh, stay just like that for me, my love—god, I’ll make you feel so good. Keep being good like this for me, and I’ll make you feel wonderful, sweetheart—”

—and fuck, he is, he absolutely is; he’s desperate and shameless, and Stede’s words shiver through him like fire crawling along a wick, lips parting against the pillow with heavy, panting breaths as burning desire swells within him. He grips the sheets beneath him as Stede murmurs something he only half-hears, some whispered coaxing of stay here for me, right here, oh, just like this, Ed, don’t move an inch, like Ed would ever fucking dream of moving from this position an instant before Stede told him to.

The bed shifts, and Stede is gone. Ed doesn’t see where he goes, almost trembling with impatience and rapt, determined compliance. He presses his face into the pillow beneath him, not quite holding back a soft noise of longing; distantly, from somewhere across the room, Stede tells him he’s doing so wonderfully, Ed, and his muscles calm in a heartbeat, the cacophony in his mind fizzling to a warm, pleasant hum. Just enough to ground him while he waits.

Stede returns with more praises on his lips and kisses to scatter across Ed’s skin, more soothing touches as he whispers for Ed to arch your back a little for me, there you go. Ed feels fucking drunk, and drunker yet with every order he obeys, every easy bit of compliance he can wrap himself around. He hardly realizes Stede is slicking his fingers, hardly even thinks about it until Stede’s touch is back at his entrance, teasing against him now with easier access and hotter intent.

“Hell, Ed,” Stede murmurs appreciatively, tracing a slick fingertip around the tight muscle. “Look at you, already relaxing for me. God, you’re so good.”

“Stede,” he moans, hips canting back earnestly against Stede’s touch. He doesn’t have it in him to wonder in the moment when he became so hungry for this, so full of aching need for it he could hardly think straight; he can’t think at all, in fact, beyond his impatience for Stede’s fingers inside him right fucking now. “Please—please, c’mon, I need—”

“I’ve got you,” Stede breathes, and lets a finger press inside without another word. Ed groans, loud and unrestrained as he fists the sheets beneath him, shuddering with heat at the bone-deep satisfaction of it. His hips rock back before he can stop them, gasping as he silently begs for more in seconds, and Stede gives his own low sound as he works deeper with slow, measured thrusts. “Just relax for me,” Stede coaxes.

Ed does, more smoothly than he could have ever imagined, pooling in Stede’s hands with such sweet ease that his head fucking spins for it. Stede is good to him then, so fucking good as he sinks his touch into Ed’s body, working deep with slow thrusts until Ed is grinding back on every movement. He lets every sound loose from his lungs without restraint—gasps and moans of Stede’s name, pleasure-drunk cascades of words on his lips, please, fuck, please, feels good, feels so good, please, I want more, please.

And then—fuck, then Stede is utterly indulgent, meeting Ed breath for breath as he spills worshipful praises into his skin and adds a second finger. Ed gasps around the stretch as Stede soothes him with kisses over his skin, and it’s only a few dizzying minutes before Ed has turned pliant around this too, hips rocking back to take Stede’s fingers as deep as he’ll give them. Stede curves them within Ed’s body until Ed gasps, presses there until Ed is positively shaking, then relents and leaves Ed whimpering, tears finding their way out of his eyes once more at the pure pleasure and heat coiling tightly around his spine.

“Please,” Ed gasps again, choking on a whimper as Stede’s fingers brush the white-hot center within him, the contact that keeps sending shockwaves up his spine, leaving his whole body trembling. “Please, fuck, more—”

“God, I love the way you ask,” Stede whispers, voice warm and silken as he brushes a third finger against Ed’s entrance. Ed whines, suddenly dragging in a sharp breath.

“Stede,” he pleads, hearing the tense desperation wrapping tightly around the name as it falls from his tongue. “Please, I—I need—fuck, I want your cock—”

Stede’s lips are at his spine in an instant, pace not faltering a bit as he kisses Ed’s skin. “I know, darling,” he assures him gently. “Just wait a little longer. You’re doing wonderfully.”

Ed swallows back the sound of frustration that threatens to claw its way out of his throat. He breathes deeply instead as he feels a third finger beginning to press in alongside the first two, letting out a low groan as he buries his face in the pillow. It leaves his hips twisting, canting back for more as Stede carefully works all three fingers deep into Ed’s body.

Ed might lose his mind soon. He might go spinning off into a different reality and never see this one again; the world itself might crumble to pieces, and Ed would still be here, meticulously pulled apart with torturous pleasure that’s just short of enough, just short of what he needs.

He lasts longer than he thought he would, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths as Stede fucks him into tender oblivion on his gentle fucking fingers—only then Stede curves them again, dragging right against that blinding, searing spot that conjures the entire fucking cosmos in front of Ed’s eyes. Ed cries out as his hand suddenly curls into a fist, slamming down against the bed as he curses aloud.

“Ed,” Stede murmurs sharply in warning. “Relax.”

“I’m—fuck,” Ed gasps, “I’m fucking relaxed, Stede—please, fuck, I want your cock—”

“Wait, Edward.”

“Now!” Ed snaps heatedly as he glares over his shoulder, and the world grinds to a halt.

Stede goes still immediately, fingers cruelly motionless where they’re pressed inside Ed’s body. The whine that claws its way out of Ed’s throat is outright pitiful, loud and shaking as Ed instantly tilts his hips, angling desperately for more to no avail, fingers suddenly scrabbling against the sheets as he tries to fuck back against Stede’s fingers. Mercilessly, Stede’s free hand comes quickly to his hip to still him, leaving Ed panting and groaning in frustration.

“Edward,” Stede chides, voice suddenly so low it sends a startled thrum of heat down Ed’s spine. “What did I tell you about behaving yourself?”

Ed can hardly even hear him, out of his mind and beside himself with need as he drags a shaking breath into his lungs. Stede’s fingers dig pointedly into his hip, nails biting lightly into the skin, and the last thread holding Ed together fucking snaps.

He dissolves instantly beneath Stede’s touch, turning to liquid in the sheets as words begin rushing out of him that he barely remembers forming on his tongue, please and fuck and I’m sorry, oh god, I’ll behave, I’ll be good, please, please, fuck, I promise, please—

Stede, sweet and loving, gentles his grip at once, sliding a reassuring hand up Ed’s spine as he shushes him tenderly, and then his fingers are moving again, thrusting easily back into Ed’s body. Ed’s words disappear into a deep, grateful moan, quivering and pliant as he sinks back into the pillows beneath him, letting Stede press him down with a hand between Ed’s shoulder blades.

“Shh, there you go,” Stede murmurs, settling back into a mind-melting rhythm that turns Ed’s bones to jelly. “Oh, there, see? Look how sweet you can be for me, Edward.”

Ed nods shakily, too wrung-out to find any piece of him left that wants to resist this, wants to fight to have things his own way. He can’t bring himself to do anything but cry out into the pillow each time Stede’s fingers brush the sensitive spot within him, give trembling moans and bitten-off pleas as Stede takes all the time in the world with him and then some. He’s a pile of dizzy desire and unreserved trust, of deep, simmering pleasure and slow-burning bliss.

There was a time before this, probably; there were things in Ed’s head that seemed so big, so terrible, so staggeringly insurmountable, and they’ve melted away into nothing. Now there’s only Stede, only a deep-seated comfort as he gives over easily to every stroke of Stede’s fingers within him, every loving word kissed into the dip of his spine.

“You’re so—hell, Ed, so gorgeous like this,” Stede whispers. Through the pleasant haze of Ed’s mind, he thinks he catches the faintest quiver in Stede’s voice, like his own restraint is beginning to slip. As if on cue, Stede’s fingers begin slowing within him, then gently, carefully draw out of his body. Ed shudders deeply, groaning as he feels the slide of each knuckle slipping out of him, then whimpering as he’s left feeling achingly empty.

He shifts his hips minutely, restless for more, senses maddeningly heightened. He can feel the dampness of the pillow beneath him where he’s been panting into it with tears on his cheeks, hear the soft shuffle of Stede’s knees against the sheets, the oil jar uncapping, the quiet groan from Stede’s lips as he slicks his own cock. Ed breathes and breathes, clutching hard at the pillow beneath his head as he forces himself into some semblance of patience.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Stede murmurs with all the affection in the world, fingers curling around Ed’s hips again. Ed gasps quietly as Stede maneuvers him, angles his hips up higher as he crowds in close from behind. A dry, warm hand smoothes over Ed’s spine again as Stede whispers, “Arch your back for me, now—oh, yes, that’s perfect.”

Stede’s cock presses against him, harder than anything, heavy and slick as it drags against Ed’s hole. Ed gives a pronounced shudder, letting out a whine that would be embarrassing if he weren’t more desperate than he can remember ever being; his own cock is heavy where it hangs between his legs, leaking onto the sheets beneath him, heart pounding in his ears. Stede moans softly as he teases for a moment—maddening, ruinous, fucking devastating—before at last letting the head of his cock press flush against Ed’s entrance, positioning himself to push inside.

“You’ve been so patient,” Stede whispers in approval as he lingers there. His fingers press firmly into Ed’s hip, steadying his trembling form. “I think you’ve earned more, don’t you?”

Ed can't do anything but whimper, nodding frantically as Stede’s thumb caresses his skin. Stede goes still at the wordless response, then slowly leans down closer, a slight frown in his lowering voice as their hips press closer. His cock rubs slick against sensitive skin with the movement, just short of slipping inside, stealing the breath from Ed’s lungs.

“Say you deserve it, Edward.”

Ed’s lips part to a sharp inhale. His heart speeds up and his mind slows down, blinking rapidly as he tries to wrap his head around the order. It’s as if his brain trips promptly over it, caught jarringly between the desperate instinct to comply and the fierce, stuttering hesitation that seizes his lungs.

“I—” he tries, then chokes instantly on the words, dry in his mouth and tremulous on his tongue. They stay lodged in his chest like something razor-like and broken, misshapen and out of reach, sharp enough to slice Ed open the second he tries to grasp them and refusing to budge. Ed only manages a quiet, strained whine instead, turning his face into the dark safety of the pillow beneath him.

Stede’s fingers slide up to wind tightly into his hair. Ed gasps as he pulls gently, urging Ed’s face away from the pillow and exposing him again to the morning light of the cabin. Stede lays his lips along the shell of Ed’s ear, voice softer than Ed expects when he speaks again.

“Say it,” Stede breathes. His fingers release Ed’s hair to card through it instead, stroking it back from his face with slow, loving care, and Ed has to close his eyes against the fresh wave of tears suddenly filling them. “I want to hear you say you deserve this, darling. You’ve been so good.” He kisses Ed’s cheek, light and sweet. “You can do it. Say it for me now.”

Ed’s breath is too heavy, too quick, protesting against the words with staggering determination. Ed swallows around the tense, painful lump in his throat and forces the words out, trying not to let his voice shake.

“I—I deserve th—this,” Ed manages, quiet and small, tight with the tears slipping down his cheeks.

Stede kisses a tear away, then another, rewarding him with a slow, heavy thrust of his hips against Ed’s. It chases a desperate groan out of Ed’s chest, the slick drag of Stede’s cock against him instantly maddening again, distracting Ed from the hurricane in his head.

“Fuck,” Ed gasps, and Stede runs a hand soothingly over his side, kissing the back of his neck.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Again.”

Ed’s forehead drops to the pillow with a grunt of frustration as Stede’s hips settle back into stillness against him. The words fall from him more easily this time, sheer impatience mingling with the reassuring weight of Stede against him, smashing through the dam in his chest with sudden, forceful conviction.

“I—fuck, deserve this,” Ed grits out, then rocks his hips impatiently back against Stede’s. “Fuck—I do, c’mon, please, give—fucking give it to me, Stede, please—”

Stede draws in a satisfied breath, burying one more kiss in Ed’s neck as he grinds his hips along Ed’s again, a warm sound of approval in his throat. The rest of Ed’s words are lost to another moan, drenched in heated desire as his mind goes fuzzy all over again, blurring at the edges with the reckless need burning in his hips.

“That’s right, my love,” Stede whispers, and Ed flushes hot with anticipation as Stede finally eases back, carefully aligning his hips with Ed’s once more. For a heartstopping moment, the world around him fades to nothing but this; nothing but Stede against him, love on his lips and fire in his touch. If there’s anything else in the universe—the ship rocking in the waves, the floorboards creaking, the bustle of the waking crew from above or the scent of salt in the air—it all drops right out of existence as Stede murmurs sweetly, “You deserve everything.”

Ed doesn’t get a chance to think past the sentiment before his mind whites out at the feeling of Stede finally, finally pressing into him. He gasps as his back arches sharply with the stretch, stuttering moans escaping him between desperate huffs of breath as Stede works deeper with slow, shallow thrusts.

“Ah,” Ed gasps, then moans as Stede braces a hand against his back, forcing him to arch again, pliant and shaking beneath Stede’s touch. Half-attempts at sentences fly off his lips as if chased out of his body by the ripples of pleasure blazing up his spine. “S-Ste—oh—oh, f-fuck, Stede, please—please, fuck, fuck—”

Stede groans as his fingers suddenly curl against Ed’s back, nails digging into his skin as he thrusts deep in one swift, smooth movement, leaving Ed crying out and clutching at the pillow as he takes Stede to the hilt. He only barely hears Stede’s heavy breaths behind him, feels Stede’s fingers relax to run in soothing little circles against his hip.

“There we are,” Stede breathes, voice only barely holding steady. He slowly draws out before thrusting easily back in, driving another breathless, pleasured cry from Ed’s chest. “See what happens when you behave?”

Ed squeezes his damp eyes shut. His skin is on fucking fire, every last nerve in his body lit up with white-hot sensation. He doesn’t remember the last time someone had him this way, can’t remember how it felt, what he thought, who he was, whether he liked it, whether he’s ever liked anything in his life before this. He can hardly remember his own fucking name. Only this, only Stede, only everything Ed can be for him—the sweet, melting comfort of not having to be anything at all beyond Stede’s, if only for a moment.

“I can—” he pants desperately, having to swallow before going on, “I-I can be—good. I can be good, I’ll be—fuck—so good for you, please—”

“Oh, my darling,” Stede interrupts breathlessly. Slowly, he shifts behind Ed to lean down along his back, and Ed gasps as bite-sized bolts of lightning shoot up his spine with the movement, whimpering as Stede begins pressing him flush against the sheets.

Stede’s fingers suddenly curl around Ed’s thigh, pulling gently until Ed’s knee slips against the bed to go slack, followed swiftly by his other one. He groans at the sudden relief of pressure on his weaker knee, fingers scrabbling against the mattress to clutch the edge of it as Stede covers Ed with his warm weight, pressing him down fully into the bed beneath.

Ed’s body shakes beneath Stede’s, trembling and trapped between his weight and the bed. Stede’s lips come to his ear as Ed tries to remember how to breathe, how to form a single coherent thought when Stede is pressed so deep within him that his whole mind has turned to liquid.

“You’re always good,” Stede whispers. A wrecked sob claws its way out of Ed’s throat, burying itself in the pillow to mingle with the tears there.

Finally, Stede begins to move. His thrusts are slow at first, deep and gentle, as if there’s a single piece of Ed that has yet to shatter or shred beneath his soft, loving hands. He moves as if he’s savoring this, like every sweet drag of his cock within Ed is worth committing to memory, worth spawning fucking poetry and music, worth holding Ed in place so Stede can ensure he feels each moment with every fiber of his being.

“Christ, Edward,” Stede moans as his hips roll into Ed’s, slow and decadent, forehead dropping to the top of Ed’s spine as he pants against his skin. “Fuck—oh, god, you feel good—hell, so good—”

Ed thinks he might fucking die. He will, he will, he absolutely will; he’s more certain of it than anything, because it’s not enough, it’s nowhere fucking near enough—because Stede has pulled every last thread of him apart with meticulous, devastating care, and Ed’s never felt more open and vulnerable in his life, and if Stede doesn’t yank all those threads back together before they fall apart for good, Ed is going to fucking die.

“Stede,” Ed whimpers, fingers fisted so tightly in the sheets his knuckles have lost their color. “F-fuck, Stede, please—”

“Tell me,” Stede orders swiftly, leaving messy, wet kisses across Ed’s skin. “Tell me, go on, tell me what you need—”

“Fuck me,” Ed gasps immediately, then groans as Stede’s rhythm falters, hearing the sharp intake of breath pass his lips. “Shit—Stede—please, fucking—hard, fast, I need it, just—fuck me to hell, please—”

Stede doesn’t let him finish. A breath later, he’s shifting quickly up over Ed to let their hips slam together in a thrust that makes Ed see stars, chases a cry off his lips as pleasure shocks all the way down to his toes—and just like that, Stede is laying into him with all he has, bracketing Ed’s shoulders with hands against the bed to fuck him soundly into the mattress beneath.

Ed manages coherence for a startlingly short time—a minute, perhaps, or mere seconds, or maybe he’s gone after the first few thrusts, head altogether empty of thought as Stede drives bitten-off shouts and pleasure-drenched cries from his lungs. He’s beyond dizzy, beyond drunk, burying gasping moans in the pillow until Stede suddenly tugs it swiftly out from beneath him.

“Let me hear you, sweetheart,” Stede growls into his ear, and then Ed starts losing track of where Stede ends and he begins. Stede’s moans are sweet and obscene in the air around them, mingling with every sound punched out of Ed’s chest, every plea, praise, and mindless chant—fuck and yes and Stede and a hundred things in between that Ed doesn’t even hear on his own tongue—punctuated by tearful sobs of pleasure that let loose into the room without a pillow to hide them in.

What he hears is Stede—Stede’s moans into his skin as his cock drives deep into the heat of Ed’s body again and again, fast and relentless and hot enough to melt away every inch of tension in Ed’s body, every lingering breath of anger over god-only-fucking-knows-what anymore. He hears Stede’s gasps like it’s air in his own lungs, hears Stede’s words until they’re so loud they could be his own thoughts: hell, you’re wonderful and god, I love you, I love you so much and fuck, you’re everything, Ed, you’re so good for me, so fucking good for me, fuck, you feel good, you’re so, so—

Ed’s body begins drawing up tight with pleasure so suddenly it sends him reeling. His hands scrabble frantically against the sheets, toes curling as the heat in his belly sweeps up to coil up his spine like wildfire; distantly, faintly, he registers his own cries canting up higher, shorter and more breathless as Stede’s name gets lost between them. He’s on the edge before he knows it, riding razor-sharp and wafer-thin along it, clinging desperately to reality as he staves off his climax from moment to wild-edged moment.

He shakes and shakes as he tries to hold on, gripped by the senseless fear that he could fly off the edge and never come back—that he could fall apart here and shatter for good, broken into countless pieces—that he’ll be left gut-wrenchingly vulnerable, viciously exposed, a gaping wound bleeding out on docks and inside fucking blanket forts—

“I’ve got you, darling,” Stede pants in his ear, breaking through Ed’s spiraling thoughts as he suddenly tilts Ed’s hips up, sliding a hand around his front to wrap slick fingers around Ed’s cock. Ed groans shakily as Stede begins stroking him swiftly, hot and brilliant, the sound stuttering up into a ragged, breathless moan as Ed holds on, holds on, holds on—-

“Go on, I’ve got you,” Stede says again, pushing frenzied, heated kisses all across Ed’s skin, “that’s it, come on, let go for me, Ed—fuck, just like that, go ahead, come for me, come just like you deserve—”

Blinding pleasure rushes up to meet Ed before he can stop it, slamming into him with dizzying force as he flies off the edge of the world. He shouts Stede’s name as he spills and spills over Stede’s tight fist around him, shaking apart from the inside out as searing heat ricochets around his body. It roars in his ears and echoes through his veins, and he only barely realizes the way Stede has gone rigid and shaking around him seconds later, thrusts turning sharp and erratic as a molten spill of praises cascades off Stede’s tongue, hot enough to scorch what’s left of Ed’s dazed, humming mind.

Stede’s fingers are tight and bruising on his hip as they ride out blissful waves together, stuttering bursts of pleasure until Ed feels himself going slack and heavy. Heat seeps out of his limbs to leave him smoldering and boneless in the sheets, and the world around him slowly returns: the creaking of the floorboards, the waves against the ship, the smell of salt in the air. Stede’s breaths, hot and damp against his skin; Stede’s fingers, gentling to stroke up Ed’s side, down his arm, through his hair; Stede’s endless, loving kisses across every inch of Ed’s skin he can reach.

The kisses continue for longer than Ed could guess. Seconds, minutes, hours or days—not long enough, if he’s honest. Each brush of Stede’s lips is like a healing balm now, cooling and soothing where they burned so viciously before. His trailing touch feels welcome and sincere, and the spikes of Ed’s anxiety have softened into mere, smooth memories of the sting.

“I love you,” Stede whispers at long last. “I love you with all my heart.” He presses the words like a promise into Ed’s flushed skin, the top of his spine and the space behind his ear, the waves of his hair and the nape of his neck. Ed shivers as his eyes fall shut, focusing on each slow breath in and out of his aching lungs. Atop him, Stede’s breaths follow the same cadence, and Ed can feel the swell of their heartbeats in a constant, parallel rhythm.

Ed doesn’t manage to respond with words, and Stede doesn’t wait for him to do so. Gently, so gently, Stede draws back at last until he’s pulling out of Ed with a soft groan; Ed doesn’t move, doesn’t even remember how. He could stay like this forever, he imagines, fucked-out and blissed off to another plane of existence, gentled into sweet oblivion.

When the slow, warm kisses disappear from his skin, Ed’s heavy eyelids lift just in time for Stede to gently turn him over. He starts by kissing Ed’s lips, long and deep and earnest, stays until Ed has the presence of mind to kiss him back; then he finally draws off, chuckling and murmuring something vaguely amused and apologetic at the state of Ed’s front. And then there’s a cloth against his skin; then the sheet beneath him tugged and pulled away; then Stede’s hands over his bad knee, fingers digging gently into the muscles in a massage, and oh, that’s new.

Ed melts beneath the touch, feeling dazed and weightless, mind pleasantly abuzz with a calm, steady hum. It’s quiet in his head, he notices faintly. That’s new, too. New and almost as relieving as Stede’s careful, attentive fingers, easing pain and tension out of Ed’s knee the way no one’s ever bothered to before, not even Ed himself.

“How are you feeling?” Stede whispers after a decade has passed—Ed’s best estimate, at least—and Ed swallows and summons a breath to his lungs, limbs heavy with bone-deep comfort.

“Mm,” is all he manages to respond. Impressive of him, he thinks proudly, given the liquid state of his mind.

Somewhere close to his ear, Stede chuckles with such fondness that Ed’s heart nearly aches with longing. He reaches out with leaden arms and Stede catches him easily, shifting down close against Ed’s side. More kisses dropped to Ed’s skin; more gentle strokes of warm fingers against his front, then through his hair.

“You can sleep,” he hears Stede murmur into the crook of his neck before leaving a kiss there too, as if worried about what might happen if he leaves an inch of Ed’s skin unblessed by his lips. It’s a reasonable concern. Ed’s concerned, too.

Not terribly, though, because Stede is a thorough man, and Ed can already feel the pieces of himself pulling back together more with each passing moment. He fits inside his own skin again, comfortable and easy, rearranged into something he recognizes. Something he wants to be.

“I’ll be right here,” Stede promises quietly, resting his chin atop Ed’s head. “Always.”

Ed curls closer into Stede’s warmth, tucking himself safely against Stede’s beating heart before sinking into sleep.

***

When Ed wakes, he’s adrift for a bleary, terrifying moment. The bed feels wrong, too hot and too cold at once; even the smell is different, jarringly strange and familiar at once, and Ed rises rapidly to the surface, taking in a sharp breath as the bed shifts beneath him—

“I’m here, I’m here,” Stede whispers, swift and reassuring as his arms suddenly wrap around Ed to pull him close. Ed’s eyes blink open in dazed confusion, heart beating too quickly and brow creased in concern until Stede’s fingers come to his hair, sinking into the strands.

“Sorry,” Stede murmurs, kissing Ed’s temple, then his cheek—then his forehead, then his hair, and Ed can’t even remember why he woke with such a start, already easing back into boneless relaxation. “I only left for a second, I promise.”

Ed frowns sleepily into his chest, realizing his heart still hasn’t calmed down. A dream? Some mortifyingly convincing hallucination?

“You were shivering,” Stede supplies softly, palm warm as it runs over Ed’s back in circles now, slow and soothing. “I went to see if I could find a blanket.”

Holy shit. Not a dream, not a hallucination, entirely fucking real. Stede, here, real. Stede, holding him. Stede, after shouting and crying and already staying through the night once, now bleeding into the daytime—and still here. Still real. Ed wonders dizzily how many times he’ll need to wake up this way before he stays convinced.

As many times as it takes, he supposes.

Ed swallows, finding his throat a little raw as he sinks further into Stede’s embrace. “Tossed ‘em overboard,” he admits quietly, because it’s not as if Stede hasn’t seen the state of the cabin, but Ed still isn’t sure he can bring himself to say it when he’s more awake, more alert, faced head-on with Stede’s expression. “‘M sorry.”

To his surprise, Stede shakes his head swiftly, gathering Ed closer. “I’ll keep you warm,” he promises, soft and simple.

It’s like a drop of golden sunlight falling squarely onto the cracked, healing edges of Ed’s heart, warming it through and illuminating the last of the dark spaces that remained.

As if, after everything, Ed deserves this. Deserves to be kept warm, without question or reservation.

Ed lets out a slow breath, eyes slowly slipping shut again. He thinks of the weeks he’s spent alone, bitterly letting memory and regret pummel the heart in his chest. It feels senseless now in the face of Stede’s easy affections, as if Ed has been this easy to love all along.

He wishes he’d known.

“Feels like forever ago,” he admits in a mumble. “I can’t even… fuckin’ remember what I was angry about anymore.”

Stede sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, silent for a heavy beat before speaking. “You don’t have to say that,” he says, soft and sincere and small. “Ed, you’re—you’re still allowed to be upset with me. I know I hurt you. I know.”

The sharp sting Ed expects in his chest doesn’t come. There’s a dull, lingering ache, like an overexerted muscle, a bruise working itself through colorful, fading stages. He sighs slowly, turning his head to press his lips to Stede’s chest, letting them linger over his heart.

“Yeah,” Ed agrees quietly. “And… maybe I’ll still be upset again later. But for now, I’m—I’m just fucking thankful you’re back, mate.” He presses his eyes shut again, burying his face in Stede’s chest. “Fuck, I missed you.”

Stede doesn’t hesitate before catching Ed close, pushing one more long, decisive kiss into his hair.

“Not a day went by that I didn’t think of coming home,” he whispers.

Ed quirks a weak smile. It pulls at his face in an unexpected way, as if demanding effort from muscles that have gone unused for weeks.

“You just missed your fancy ship,” he teases. Stede huffs lightly at the quip, but shifts to look down until he can meet Ed’s gaze.

“I didn’t mean the ship,” he says softly. “I meant you. Wherever you might have been.”

Ed falls silent as his smile slips in surprise. His eyes grow damp again, but the lump in his throat doesn’t hurt this time; it eases with a simple, deep breath and a kiss pressed to Stede’s skin.

“Thank you for coming home,” he breathes. Stede hugs him close, and Ed is already shifting in nearer yet, like he could find a way to press their hearts flush together through their chests. Parallel beats, parallel rhythms, parallel care and conviction and love.

“Thank you, too,” Stede whispers.

***

Home happens to be the Revenge for a time, and then home is elsewhere. Home sails its way across the high seas before making landfall for good; it remains steady and unyielding everywhere it goes, two hearts safe and sheltered together. No matter the place, no matter the time, home endures.

Home is found side by side in never-ending unison, falling into synchronous step together. It’s found in unwavering hands and devoted hearts, parallel lines stretching on into forever, steadfast and strong and unbroken. They stay the course, aligned without fail, beating hearts always within reach of one another.

And they love, unparalleled, for the rest of their days.