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"I've been thinking of trying something new."
Stede's tone is casual, easy. As smooth as the brandy Ed is nursing a second glass of, but with an underlying bite, a creeping slow burn Ed is now oh so familiar with. It's a tone Ed knows can lead to incredible outcomes if he plays his cards right.
He raises an eyebrow at Stede, swirling the rest of his drink around his glass, watching the liquid catch the imperfections and trail down the sides. The night is still young, and the seas are blessedly calm, the movement of The Revenge steady. They have time, for whatever it is that Stede has tucked up his sleeves. They have all the time in the world.
Stede stands and removes his coat, drawing Ed’s attention into something a little sharper. They’re going to have A Conversation. Stede’s preparing to have A Conversation about whatever this is he wants to try. Ed swallows the rest of his drink, placing the glass down and sitting up a little straighter in his chair. He’s already dressed way further down than Stede, his jacket, trousers and boots already shed in favour of soft cotton breeches and woollen socks.
It took a while for it to feel comfortable; letting himself be vulnerable at night, putting enough trust in other people’s defensive abilities. To shed his leather and weapons on his off nights, trading them in for soft lounge clothes and light cottons to sleep in. Ed watches Stede roll the sleeves of his blouse, tucking them neatly above his elbows and shedding his cravat and waistcoat. When he’s down to his last layers, he pulls a chair over so he’s positioned opposite Ed, sitting down carefully, his back straight, his hands folded neatly in his lap.
A Serious Conversation then.
“Something new?” Ed asks quietly, giving Stede the opening.
“An experiment, of sorts. But it may be uncomfortable for you. A good kind of uncomfortable, but uncomfortable nonetheless.”
Ed nods. He knows, now, what good uncomfortable can be, how good the payoff can feel, but most importantly, how much trust he places in Stede to ensure it stays the good kind, that it never veers off into the bad. He trusts Stede to read the line of true discomfort. He trusts him.
“I trust you,” he says, dragging his gaze up to hold eye contact with Stede for a moment, nodding softly to reinforce his words.
“I want to see how many times I can bring you to the cusp, to the very edge of release,” Stede says, fingers linked together, his leg bouncing ever so slightly. “I want to take you there and bring you back. Over, and over, and over again.”
Ed stares at him, his breathing already shallow, heat pooling in the pit of his belly.
“Edward, my darling. I want to take you so close to the edge that by the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be begging for release.”
How he does it, Ed has no idea. How he sits in his blouse and breeches and his fucking stockings, back straight and voice steady. How he explains that he wants to edge Ed into oblivion with the same cadence he’d use to read a fucking shopping list.
Ed can barely breathe with how much he wants it, and somehow Stede looks completely unaffected by the sentence that just came out of his own mouth, the slight bounce of his right leg his only tell.
“How does that sound?”
Ed can feel sweat already forming at his temples, pooling at the small of his back. He takes a steady breath in, then out again, curling his fingers around the arms of his chair to ground himself and doing his best to ignore the press of his cock in his breeches, already thick with want.
“Fucking brilliant,” he breathes.
Stede relaxes visibly at that, slouching down a little and leaning forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees. “Yes? You’d like that?”
“Absolutely,” Ed nods. “You have no fucking idea, love.”
“Well then,” Stede says, standing up and pushing his chair back into place. “Is there anything you’d like before we begin?”
Ed shakes his head. He’s already bathed the day from his body, already combed oil through his hair and tied it into a loose knot out of the way. He’s as ready as he thinks he’ll ever be.
“I’m good.” He pauses for a second longer. “Still using lavender?”
“Still using lavender,” Stede repeats softly.
A safe word, a last resort, an out that doesn’t need to be negotiated. A safety net Ed has never needed, but has always appreciated the existence of.
Stede holds a hand out and Ed pulls himself up, stretching his leg out and bouncing slightly on his toes.
“All okay?” Stede asks softly, looking down at Ed’s knee.
“All good, really good.”
Stede leans in and presses a soft kiss to Ed’s cheek, just above the line of his beard. His hand runs down the length of Ed’s spine and he shivers with the contact, the anticipation.
“Undress at your own pace, and lay down on the bed please,” Stede murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of Ed’s ear. “I shall be with you in just a moment.”
His fingertips trace Ed’s hip, and he steps away, moving around the cabin and methodically extinguishing every lantern, every candle. He places the screen over the dying fire and opens a couple of windows, allowing a slight breeze to flow through the space. Ed pulls his shirt over his head, folding it carefully and draping it over the back of his chair. His breeches follow, along with his socks, and he watches the hair on his thighs stand on end as his skin is exposed to the cool air. Stede didn’t explicitly say he couldn’t give himself any attention, so he wraps a loose hand around his prick and gives it a few gentle tugs, letting his fingers collect a little of the fluid forming at the tip, loosening the glide of the soft skin around the head.
“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Stede says, pressing a kiss to the back of Ed’s neck and gently uncurling his fingers from around his cock. “I have plans for you. Plans I wouldn’t want you to derail prematurely.”
He’s removed all his jewellery, Ed realises. His hands are completely bare.
“Lay down on the bed, Edward.”
Ed breathes sharply through his nose, stepping across the room to the bed nook, his toes curling against the wooden floor. Stede has already pulled the blankets down, and the sheets underneath are soft and cool against Ed’s already overheated skin. He shuffles down the bed and bends his knees, letting the leg closest to the edge drop down flat against the mattress, exposing himself and giving Stede access to whatever he wants to take.
“I love you,” Stede murmurs, cupping Ed’s face in his hands and leaning down to press a series of kisses across his face, landing the last one on his mouth, soft and wet and open. “Tell me when to stop.”
“I love yo—” Ed stammers, cutting himself off with a groan as Stede wraps a hand around his prick, immediately fast and insistent. He’s still fucking dressed, kneeling over the side of the bed and giving Ed the kind of frantic handjob he’d give himself in his youth—desperate and fast, a self-imposed race to finish before anyone around him noticed what he was doing.
“Fucking hell, Stede,” he groans, throwing an arm over his face and letting his hips rock up to meet Stede’s fist. It’s so much, almost too much: the dry pull of Stede’s hand combined with the fact that he’s still fucking dressed. Ed has spent his entire life rarely indulging in the luxury of being fully naked when he’s getting off, and he never considered that his partner staying clothed while they touch him would become a thing for him.
Turns out, he’s learning a lot about himself recently.
Stede’s hand is still moving, and it’s so good, Stede is so good, he’s so good to him. Heat pools in Ed’s groin, his thigh muscles twitching, and he’s close, he’s so fucking close—
“Stop—fuck—Stede—stop, stop—I’m gonna—”
Stede’s hand is gone, the heat of his body pulling away. Ed chokes a laugh, his hips rocking into nothing, his fingers scrabbling at the hair on his thighs to try and direct attention away from his cock.
“Perfect, Ed. That was perfect,” Stede whispers, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “You calm down, darling. When you’re ready, we’ll start again.”
Ed stares at him in disbelief.
“Unless,” Stede starts, running his palm down Ed’s leg, cupping his knee and tracing the tattoos curving down his calf muscle. “You feel as though you can continue?”
Ed wants to, he wants to, God, he wants Stede everywhere he can get him. He nods sharply, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Words, please, Ed. Words and eyes.”
Ed forces his eyes open, frowning as he makes determined eye contact with Stede. “Keep going,” he says.
“Wonderful.” He rummages around at the foot of the mattress, producing a small, stoppered bottle of oil. “A little easier this time, I think.”
Ed breathes slowly, in through his nose, out through his mouth, biting his lip as Stede pours a little oil into his hand and tilts his arm slightly, letting the slick coat the entire surface of his palm. He wraps his hand back around Ed’s cock and Ed whines, his back arching off the bed as Stede squeezes the head and rubs a slick thumb across the tip. He should have waited longer, he should have taken the break Stede offered him. It’s so fucking much already, again, too soon. He breathes carefully, focusing on each inhale, each exhale, curling his toes against the sheets and willing himself not to blow. Stede’s hand is too loose to be truly effective, like he knows Ed is too far gone to handle anything tighter, and even that knowledge is enough to have Ed desperately clenching every muscle he has like he could somehow prevent the inevitable.
“No, no no no. Stop, stopstopstop,” he babbles, wrapping his hand around Stede’s wrist and pulling him away. He’s rewarded for his efforts with a soft but filthy kiss, Stede surging up to lick into his mouth and tuck his hand under Ed’s head to pull him close.
“Do you need to take a break?” Stede breathes, their noses still touching, Ed panting between them.
“I need to come, Stede,” Ed growls. “I can’t—I need—”
“You can, and you will, my love,” Stede whispers, pressing another kiss to Ed’s mouth and rubbing a thumb across his cheekbone. “We’ll take a break until you’ve calmed down.” He pulls one of the blankets up and over Ed’s legs, letting it drape over his stomach. “Don’t want you getting cold in the meantime.”
He gets up from his perch at the side of the bed, and Ed reaches out instinctively. “Where are you going?” he whines.
“I’ll be back. I won’t be long,” Stede says with a soft smile, and Ed leans up on his elbows, watching in disbelief as Stede actually ups and leaves the fucking cabin, his prick visibly hard in his breeches, the back of his shirt dotted with sweat, his hand still presumably slick with oil.
Absolute fucking madman.
Ed loves him so fucking much.
As soon as the door clicks shut behind Stede, Ed shifts, regretting it almost immediately when the brush of the blanket over his cock sends a jolt of oversensitivity up his spine. “Fuck this,” he mutters, kicking it off and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, lowering himself onto the floor on unsteady feet and stretching his arms above his head.
Calm down, Stede had advised. How does he calm down after two excruciatingly close, back to back hand jobs? Wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, he paces the cabin a few times, thinking as many decidedly unsexy thoughts as possible. The smell of the fish market on a hot day, or the thing Roach had found growing in an abandoned tea mug the other week. Things like that. Unsexy things. Things he couldn’t possibly maintain an erection through. The breeze catches the edge of his blanket cloak, flowing through his legs, and jesus fuck even that is enough to turn him on. He’s gonna kill Stede when he gets back. As soon as he’s come, he’s gonna fucking kill him.
Eventually, with enough time, and pacing, and pure, unadulterated determination, he softens a little, the urgency in his belly and thighs fading. He’s not entirely sure how long Stede’s been gone, but he sits himself back on the bed, his cock half soft and resting against his thigh.
As if summoned, Stede reappears, shouldering his way through the door with a mug in hand. Apparently, he too took the opportunity to calm down a little, the situation in his breeches looking a little less desperate, at least from where Ed’s sitting.
“Feeling calmer?” Stede asks, gesturing at Ed with his mug. It’s one of the tin ones, from the mess. Stede never drinks out of those, not even at crew dinners. He’s usually porcelain or bust. Ed nods and tilts his head, watching as Stede drains the last of whatever he’s drinking, placing the mug down on the nearest surface and stalking back over to where Ed’s still perched on the edge of the bed.
With bare feet, Stede is a couple of inches shorter than Ed, a height difference negated on a daily basis by the heels most of Stede’s shoes feature. But like this, standing over him, Stede towers like the lighthouse he always thought he needed to be. Ed swallows as Stede runs a finger beneath his chin, tilting his head up and leaning down to kiss him again. It’s soft, but filthy, the urgency of before replaced with syrupy slow desire. Ed’s cock perks up a little at the sensation and he moans into Stede’s mouth, gripping his bicep and curling his fingers into the fabric of his shirt.
Stede pulls away and stares down at him, his eyes dark. He runs his thumb across Ed’s bottom lip, and without warning sinks down to his knees, his hands flat on Ed’s thighs.
“Lean back a little, darling. That’s it,” he murmurs, his thumbs pressing maddeningly into the soft skin of Ed’s inner thighs. Ed watches in disbelief as without any further preamble, Stede leans up and takes his still mostly-soft cock into his mouth, sucking on it gently.
“Stede,” Ed moans, letting his head drop backwards, one hand coming up to rest carefully at the crown of Stede’s head, his hair soft between Ed’s fingers. “Jesus Christ, love, what are you fucking—oh shit—doing to me, man?”
Stede just hums, his thumbs pressing higher, dangerously close to Ed’s balls. He pulls back a little as Ed swells in his mouth over time, eventually reducing his attention to the head of Ed’s prick, his tongue doing sinful things around the tip. It’s head unlike anything Ed’s ever been on the receiving end of, and entirely the worst fucking situation for Stede to be delivering the performance of his fucking life.
Ed moans, and whines, and lets his leg kick out in desperation, his hips held in place by Stede’s deceptively strong hands. He’s being tortured, is what’s happening. He’s being tortured by a man who claims to love him, and Ed’s going to die, right here in this shared cabin, sucked to death by an absolute lunatic of a lover.
God, it’ll be so fucking worth it.
“Stede, love, please—” he begs, curling his fingers in Stede’s hair and tugging gently. “This time, let me, please let me—”
He can feel sweat at the back of his neck, under his arms, in the dip of his back. His stomach clenches, and he’s so close, he’s right there, he just needs Stede to—
Stede pulls back, letting Ed’s cock fall free from his mouth, the head dragging against his bottom lip, and Ed nearly loses it right there and then. The man looks like sex incarnate.
“I think you can do at least one more,” Stede says, his voice rough. “One more, darling.”
Ed shakes his head. “Nah mate, I gotta, come on. Stede, please.” He drops down flat on the bed, scrubbing his hands across his face. “Please.”
“I’m going to touch you, Ed. Is that okay?”
“Are you going to let me come?” Ed growls, opening one eye to stare up at Stede.
Stede just shrugs and taps at Ed’s knees, manoeuvring him until his feet are flat on the bed, his legs spread. “Perhaps. May I touch you?”
“You fucking better.”
“Patience, my love,” Stede murmurs, pressing a kiss to each of Ed’s knees. “Good things come to those who wait.”
“Whoever said that,” Ed groans, looking Stede directly in the eye and reaching down to pull at his cock, “hadn’t been edged to within an inch of their fucking life by their terrible, awful, cruel, torture merchant of a partner.”
“I’ve denied you orgasm three times, Edward. I hardly think that counts as edging you to within an inch of your life.”
“I feel like I’m fucking dying,” Ed says, dragging his hand slowly up and down his prick, still slick with a combination of oil, Stede’s spit, and his own pre-release. He’s a fucking mess, and the slide is almost excruciatingly good.
“You know, the French call the orgasm la petite mort. The little death.” Stede pauses, fumbling for the bottle of oil and slicking up the fingers of his right hand. “Perhaps they're onto something there.” He traces a finger behind Ed’s balls and presses in gently, placing his left hand flat on Ed’s belly and holding him in place. Ed’s cock jumps in his hand, and he lets go, letting it rest on his hip. He’s not gonna tempt fate.
“Not that I want you to die, my darling,” Stede continues, curling his fingertip where it sits deep inside Ed’s body, before dragging it out slowly. “But there is something almost exquisitely deathlike about a delayed climax. Senses overwhelmed, body in complete and uncontrollable focus.” His hand moves back and forth with an infuriatingly slow pace, and Ed squirms, bearing down slightly to try and force some action out of him.
Stede presses in with a second finger, and this, Ed can handle. This, he knows he can withstand for a significant length of time. Stede’s nothing but thorough with this kind of preparation, and for once, Ed is grateful for it. Stede works him slowly, pressing deep and dragging back, over and over until Ed is writhing in the sheets. He reaches down and pulls at himself a few times, spreading the mess of pre-release around the head and squeezing gently. He watches the muscles in Stede’s forearm flex with the repetitive movement, the veins and tendons shifting under his skin. His eyes are dark, his hair pushed back from his face, sweat beading at his temples and soaking the chest hair visible at the neck of his shirt.
Stede puts on a fucking good face, but he’s losing it, and Ed knows it.
“Stede, love,” he groans, making a show of pulling at his cock when he gets Stede’s attention. “More.”
Stede looks down, tilts his head to the side, then pushes deep with his fingers, pressing his thumb hard into the patch of skin behind Ed’s balls.
The sound that Ed makes is something he will deny the existence of right up until his dying day. It’s something terrible, awful. A broken thing halfway between a squeak and a scream. His vision whites out a little, his legs shaking.
“What the fuck, what the fuck, Stede?”
Stede pulls back, then repeats his previous motion, pressing deep. Ed writhes in place, eyes screwed shut, jaw clenched. Pleasure rolls in relentless waves down the lower half of his body, peaking as Stede works something close to fucking magic with his hands, bringing Ed closer and closer to what he assumes will be the death-like finish that Stede promised him.
“Stede, love, fuck. I’m gonna—”
“No you’re not,” Stede mutters.
“No—fuck—oh fucking hell—I am, mate—”
“Just hold on.”
“Your—oh jesus fucking christ—funer–oh shit—”
Ed damn near bites through his own lip when Stede presses in for the final time, his eyes rolling back in his head with the sensation. Little fucking death indeed. It’s like fire slowly licking up his body from his toes, rolling in waves, pulsing deep within his groin. He feels his cock jerk against his stomach, but there’s no mess, no spill. He’s coming harder than he’s ever come in his entire fucking life, but he’s not actually coming, he’s still fucking hard.
He’s still fucking hard.
After what feels like hours, the feeling subsides, a gentle implosion of pleasure, but as far as Ed can tell, he’s still hard. He reaches down to check, just in case it’s actually a case of an orgasm so good it’s scrambled his brain, but when he takes himself in hand, his dick is absolutely still there, so hard he could cut fucking glass, like nothing has happened. Like he hasn’t just followed the light down the goddamn tunnel and back again.
He blinks and stares wide eyed up at Stede, like he might be able to explain what the fuck just happened to him, but somehow, he doesn’t think he’s going to get any kind of coherent explanation any time soon.
Stede is, for lack of a better word, fucking wrecked. His hair is a mess, his blouse damp with sweat, his prick straining against the front of his breeches. His eyes are blown so dark he looks almost demonic, his mouth dropped open slightly.
“If—” Stede starts, pausing to wipe his mouth with his hand and trying again. “Edward. I need to—I need—”
Ed waits him out, watching him stumble over his own thoughts, almost drunk with arousal and finally, finally showing it.
“Edward, if I don’t get inside you in the next few minutes I might die right here, where I’m standing. I’m not exaggerating.”
Ed raises an eyebrow at him, shuffling up the bed and turning until he has a pillow under his head. The movement sends a jolt through his body and reminds him that he hasn’t actually come yet.
“Get undressed, Stede,” he moans, taking himself back in hand and setting a steady pace, pulling from root to tip and letting pleasure pool back in the base of his spine, a slow, familiar warmth.
Stede evidently doesn’t need to be told twice, stripping his remaining clothes off with a speed that Ed would roast the everliving fuck out of if he wasn’t so desperately turned on. His movements are almost a blur, oil applied to his prick with a shuddering groan that Ed focuses on intently, fearing the end before they’ve even begun. Stede climbs onto the bed and crawls between Ed’s legs, leaning down to kiss him for the first time in what feels like hours. Might have been hours, Ed has absolutely no idea how much time has passed since Stede’s initial proposal. Could be nearing sunrise for all he knows.
The movement nudges Stede’s cock alongside Ed’s, and he reaches down between them to guide Stede into place where he’s still wet and open, bearing down and moaning deep within his chest when his cock finally, finally slips inside. Stede rocks his hips in shallow thrusts, moving slowly until he’s fully seated.
“This isn’t going to take long,” Stede breathes, his eyes closed.
Ed laughs softly. “Better fucking not. I’ve been waiting fucking hours for this.”
Stede smiles softly, then pulls back, burying his face in Ed’s neck and snapping his hips forward, punching a moan from Ed’s chest. From there, he’s relentless, folding Ed almost in half and fucking into him like it’s the last fucking thing he’ll do. Ed just lets go, bracing one hand behind his head and shoving the other into the sweaty space between his and Stede’s bodies to rub at his cock, determined to come as soon as Stede does; an event he reckons is gonna happen sooner rather than later.
Stede babbles nonsense into his throat, his hands tucked under Ed’s backside and tilting him up a little, the angle and depth of his cock like nothing Ed’s ever experienced. The minutes are still in single figures before Stede starts to devolve, his rhythm stuttering, his breaths coming short and sharp. Ed’s knuckles are on fire where they’re rubbing against the hair on Stede’s stomach, but he’s so close he could cry, his toes curling, fingers gripping the sheet beneath his head. Stede pulls back a little, sitting up and changing his angle, and Ed’s brain goes completely fucking blank.
He can feel, fucking hell can he feel, but that’s it. That’s all he can do.
There’s a rushing in his ears, like surf on the coast, overwhelming and constant. Just a rushing in his ears and a bright explosion of something rolling through his body.
He blinks, and reminds himself to breathe.
In, and out.
In, and out.
In.
And out again.
“Ed, sweetheart, are you with me?”
Ed blinks and turns his head in the direction of Stede’s voice, pressing his cheek into the pillow.
“There you are,” Stede murmurs, brushing his hand over Ed’s forehead. “How are you feeling, darling?”
Ed takes a moment to process the question, his brain a little sluggish. “What the actual fuck just happened?”
“La petite mort,” Stede whispers with a smile. “Perhaps the French have something there.”
“I have never, ever, come like that,” Ed says, voice low. “In my entire life.”
“It was, uh, quite impressive,” Stede says, a flush spreading across his cheeks. “In intensity, and, um,” he looks down at Ed's body. “Volume.”
Ed looks down at himself.
Well, fuck.
“I need another bath,” he says solemnly.
“In the morning,” Stede laughs, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’ll fetch a cloth, we’ll clean up, and tomorrow, a hot bath.”
“You don’t need to—” Ed starts. “I’ll come with you, you don’t need to fetch anything.”
Stede raises an eyebrow, but nods, slipping off the bed and holding a hand out for Ed to take. His legs are a little shaky, his brain still reconnecting with his limbs, but with Stede’s support he makes it to the en-suite, not a single drop of spend lost to the floor. Stede has a stack of clean washcloths folded next to the basin, and Ed watches as he unfolds a couple, soaking them in the water and wringing them out before passing them to Ed.
Cleanup is a quiet affair; Ed cleaning his belly, chest and now fully soft cock while Stede attends carefully to the mess between his thighs, washing Ed’s most delicate areas with a tenderness that has brought Ed almost to tears more than once before. The soiled rags get dumped in a basket to be laundered, and Stede helps Ed dry off, draping a robe over his shoulders and pressing a kiss to his cheek when he’s done.
“Water, and sweets. Then sleep,” Stede murmurs, linking his fingers with Ed’s and leading him back into the cabin, his steps thankfully more steady than during their initial journey. He guides Ed to sit on a chair and hands him a flask of water and a small, yellowish block of something dusted with sugar.
“Marzipan,” Stede explains. “A sweet almond paste. Fats and sugar: perfect to replenish your energy before bed.”
Ed takes a cautious bite, moaning involuntarily at the taste. Sweet, nutty and rich.
“This? This is fucking fantastic. We need to keep this in the stores. Or maybe in here. I’m not fucking sharing this, fuck.”
“Duly noted,” Stede says softly, stripping the topmost sheet from the bed and bundling it into a laundry crate. “There we go, that’ll do until tomorrow.” He shakes the blankets loose and folds them at the foot of the bed, fluffing the pillows and arranging them neatly.
Ed’s never been more ready to sleep, to curl up with a blanket and pass the fuck out. He waits for Stede to situate himself by the window before shedding his robe and crawling in beside him, shuffling down under the blankets and placing his hand protectively over Stede’s belly.
“Where did that idea even come from?” Ed mumbles after a few minutes, already half asleep, but curious.
“I, uh,” Stede mutters. “Personal experience, I suppose, is the easiest answer.”
“You tried that on yourself? Jesus, Stede.”
“I wouldn’t say it was on purpose,” Stede groans.
“Stede, love. How did you accidentally edge yourself?”
“Oh, God,” Stede groans, turning his head away and covering his eyes with his hand. “It’s embarrassing, Ed.”
“Stede,” Ed says solemnly. “That was the best fucking orgasm of my fucking life. I don’t give a flying fuck how embarassing this story is. I need to know where you learned that.”
Stede whines, and Ed pulls him close, pressing soft kisses to his bare shoulder.
“When we first set out, the crew and I,” Stede begins, and Ed’s eyes widen a little. “The group as a whole were, shall we say, a little needy. At all hours of the night. And the concept of knocking was, well, not as refined as it could have been.”
Ed chokes. “So what you’re saying is…”
“That my evening…personal time…was interrupted on a regular enough basis for it to become somewhat sexually gratifying? Yes, Edward, that is exactly what I’m saying. That is the highly embarrassing source of this knowledge.”
“Hey,” Ed says gently, pulling Stede’s hands away from his face and pressing a soft, calming kiss to his pouting mouth. “It’s sweet. And I gotta find a way to thank every single person who interrupted you. Give ‘em a gift or something. Show them my gratitude. Maybe some of that marzipan.”
“Oh my God,” Stede whispers, but he’s smiling. “I love you, Ed, but oh my God.”
“Stede,” Ed whispers. “You have no idea how much I love you. You and your insane fucking crew.”
Stede laughs softly and pulls Ed close, kissing him gently and pulling the blankets high around their shoulders. Conversation over, for now.
He’s a fucking madman. Out of his goddamn mind.
Ed wouldn’t have him any other way.