Chapter Text
Ed was going to wait. He could have waited. For once, he probably would have been able to fucking wait, and he’s usually the one dragging Stede behind the first closed door they can find out of pure impatience.
He’s blaming this one on Stede.
They’ve only been at the pub for an hour or so, but Stede is in a good mood, settling into an ease Ed has grown familiar with by now. Ever since Stede’s return, ever since falling back together like crashing stars in the sky, there have been plenty of tipsy nights on the Revenge and ale-soaked evenings in pirate-ridden pubs like this one. Ed can never help but stare, just a little—watch the tint of Stede’s cheeks wash pinker and pinker as the night goes on, watch his head toss back further when he laughs, watch the tension melt out of his shoulders like ice beneath the blazing sun.
He’s beautiful like this. Stede has always been beautiful, but the lines around his form have grown less crisp and clean these days, more raw and roughened and real. Ed, as it turns out, is fucking helpless in the face of it.
What’s more is that Stede is rather predictable on nights like these. Ed can never get enough of him, never feels anything less than enraptured when Stede turns dark, seductive eyes on him, but it’s like fucking clockwork when he drinks like this. One drink and he’s sinking into Ed’s side, nuzzling at his shoulder and grabbing his hand to kiss it. Two drinks and he’s giggling into Ed’s neck, talking too loudly about how absolutely lovely you are, do you know that, Ed? Ed, it’s unfathomable, it’s—god, look at you, you’re just so—and on and on until Ed is melting into Stede’s wandering touches, pushing beneath Ed’s shirt or curving around his thigh.
Stede with three drinks in him, though—three-drink-Stede is enough to make Ed fucking blush. Ed isn’t generally one for shame, but three drinks is right around when Stede usually forgets there are places to sit other than Ed’s lap, when his voice quiets and his lips tilt right against Ed’s ear, fingers curling around the cravat at Ed’s neck. Stede draws him in close and whispers that he’s waited all day to have him (he hasn’t, usually) and they ought to find someplace a little more private, now (they do, usually).
So Ed isn’t particularly surprised when Stede starts getting handsy tonight. He is surprised when, only a drink and a half in, Stede growls against his lips that he wants Ed so fucking badly right now, good god.
“Fuckin’ hell, Stede,” Ed breathes low, because Stede’s hand is already dragging down his front, directly on course to wander dangerously lower. “Shit—”
“I’ve been staring at you all night, Edward,” Stede whispers, and Ed could probably get drunk on the words alone, liquor be damned. “Hell, I’d take you apart right here if we weren’t bloody surrounded in this place.”
In fact, Stede’s fingers don’t seem to give a shit who’s surrounding them; Ed nearly chokes when Stede’s hand slides between his legs, hot and coaxing beneath the table.
“Fuck,” Ed murmurs breathlessly, and Stede chuckles, low and musical in his ear, nearly lost in the volume of the crowd in the pub. Not even being secreted away at a table in the fucking corner right now would completely conceal what’s happening if someone happened to glance their way. Ed’s blood runs hot with the thought.
Part of him wants to let them fucking look. Let them see who’s laid loving claim to every last bit of Blackbeard’s heart, soul, mind, and body.
Another part of him wants, selfishly, to keep every moment of this for himself. Stede is a wonder, a fucking dream somehow walking the earth on two feet, and Ed’s not a generous enough man to want to share Stede’s heated, dazzling glow with onlookers.
“God, you look good,” Stede practically moans into his ear. His other hand is creeping up Ed’s back, tangling into the hair at the base of Ed’s skull to tug, just lightly. Ed only barely remembers to bite back a groan as he tips his head back obediently, and Stede presses in to latch his lips onto the column of Ed’s throat, sucking a searing kiss into the skin.
“Shit, Stede,” Ed pants, the words chased out of his throat by the drag of Stede’s tongue over his racing pulse point. “You’re gonna do this—here?”
“Hardly doing anything,” Stede assures him, though Ed’s cock would beg to fucking differ from beneath the massage of Stede’s palm.
“Getting a hell of a reaction from me, for hardly anything,” Ed grits out pointedly. Stede chuckles darkly.
“Well, it’s never taken much with you, has it, darling?” Stede purrs, and now Ed actually does groan aloud, eyes pressing shut as heat washes through him like a riptide. Stede’s fingers release his hair in response, instead carding through it before traveling up, smoothing over the top of Ed’s head where his hair is tied back. His touch trails down until it alights on the purple silk ribbon in Ed’s hair, tied in a sweet bow to keep the strands at bay. Stede gives it the barest, delicate tug—not enough to dislodge it, just enough for Ed to feel.
It’s the filthiest fucking thing Stede’s done all night.
The gesture is subtle, would probably fly right past anyone in this pub who’d so much as glanced their way in the past few minutes, watching Stede all but trying to devour Ed whole. But no one in this pub had seen the way Ed had been this morning, writhing desperately in the sheets, panting and pleading for Stede’s cock with ragged, unfiltered need, wrists bound tightly above his head with the same purple ribbon that’s now in his hair. Stede had slowly, gently fucked him into oblivion, spilling obscene praises and encouragements into Ed’s ear when Ed finally bit down over Stede’s shoulder and came with a shout.
And then Stede had gently cleaned him up, put him back to rights, and carefully brushed his hair out, tying it back with the ribbon and a tender kiss to the side of Ed’s head.
“So you’ll be thinking all day of how I made you feel this morning,” Stede had whispered fondly against his ear.
Now, Ed’s breath hitches in his throat, lodges there as heat rockets down his spine and settles in his hips, molten and liquid. He stares straight ahead with wide eyes until Stede slowly draws back from him, a finger still looped loosely through the bow as he smirks at Ed’s expression.
“Let’s go,” Stede murmurs pointedly, and Ed flies out of his seat faster than anything, dragging Stede up by the hand. Stede holds tightly and pulls him swiftly out of the pub.
Only then Stede makes the most absurd decision Ed could have imagined and starts drawing him along the path back to the ship.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Ed hisses at once, stopping in his tracks to tug Stede sharply to a halt. Stede looks at him with wide eyes in the night, face halfway illuminated by the glow of the pub beside them.
“I wasn’t exactly being coy, Ed,” Stede says incredulously. Ed shakes his head immediately, yanking at Stede’s hand to urge him in the opposite direction, pulling him into the alleyway beside the pub.
“Edward,” Stede says, a little scandalized as Ed backs up against a wall and drags Stede in close, and that’s fairly fucking rich, because Stede was the one fucking groping him on the other side of this wall less than a minute ago. “Here?”
“Here,” Ed growls before pulling him in close, catching Stede’s lips in a deep, fierce kiss.
It’s only seconds before Stede gives over to it, easing right into the hungry press of Ed’s mouth against his—and barely seconds more before he’s pinning Ed back along the bricks, biting Ed’s lip and licking hotly into Ed’s mouth, tongues sliding together, wet and shameless.
“C’mon, c’mon,” Ed pants eagerly, hands already dropping to Stede’s trousers to begin fumbling them open. “God, wanna fucking touch you—”
Stede clearly has other ideas, because Ed doesn’t even manage to get a hand inside Stede’s clothes before Stede is suddenly reaching down for Ed’s hips, abruptly turning him around to shove his front against the wall.
“Fuck,” Ed groans, hands curling into fists as he slumps obediently along the wall, shuddering at Stede’s quick fingers as they reach around to hurriedly work open Ed’s clothes. He goes breathless as his pants are shoved unceremoniously down his legs, and then Stede is crowding in close behind him, a scorching summer heat wave and the relieving shock of the ocean all at once, hands curling around Ed’s hips like they belong there, lips ravenous against Ed’s neck.
“Want you, Edward,” Stede growls against his skin. Ed shudders at the sudden feeling of Stede’s cock pressing firmly along his arse, desperately hard. Stede rolls his hips slowly, and Ed whimpers at the heavy drag of it against him, arching shamelessly back to grind his hips into the contact.
“Shit,” he pants. “God, Stede, yeah—yeah.”
“Are you—sure we won’t get caught?” Stede breathes back to him, as if there’s any hesitation left in his heated touch. “It’s not exactly—fuck— it’s not very discreet—”
“It’s fine,” Ed urges quickly, shoving pointedly back along Stede’s hips again, because if Stede changes his mind now he might actually fucking die about it, “it’s fine, c’mon, man—”
“Fuck,” Stede groans, hungry and low as the last of his inhibitions seem to melt away. He clutches tightly at Ed’s hip to coax him back into the same rocking motion, then again, again, again. His other hand slides to Ed’s back, pushing up his shirt, fingers splaying against Ed’s bare spine as he begins thrusting properly against him. “Oh, hell, you feel good—that’s right, arch a little more for me, darling—”
“Stede,” Ed whimpers as he obliges, heart slamming against his ribs as Stede’s movements quicken at once. The sound that falls from Stede’s lips next is almost dizzying, thick with pleasure and approval.
“Oh, just like that,” Stede moans, and then his words disappear, melt off his tongue into breathless praises and urgent sounds, a spill of filthy benedictions across Ed’s skin.
Ed pants against the wall, flushed and needy as he rocks eagerly back into Stede’s heat. He can feel Stede’s clothes still in place, only his bare cock granting them skin-to-skin contact as Stede ruts sharply against Ed with heavy, harsh breaths. There’s something especially obscene about this, something bordering on delightfully humiliating, having his own pants pooled below his knees in this alleyway while Stede leaves himself only minimally exposed, dignity almost intact. The bite of Stede’s nails on his hip coupled with Stede’s frenzied pace is enough to light Ed’s insides on fire; he feels taken, wanted, needed so fiercely that he can’t catch his breath.
It’s fucking perfect.
Stede doesn’t often handle him this way, so frantic with his own need that his hands scrabble over Ed’s body to drag him back into every reckless thrust. He doesn’t usually bury dark, pleasure-drunk groans into Ed’s neck as he fucks up against him shamelessly, and Ed could burn straight to ash from the searing thrill of it. His own cock is straining, heavy and hard between his legs as his head fucking spins with the heady rush of it; he almost reaches down to touch, almost drags Stede’s hand around to his front and pleads to him to curl it around Ed’s cock, but Stede has him pinned so firmly he can hardly move for it.
And that’s fucking fine, quite frankly, because Stede’s lips are at his ear now, panting that Ed was so good for me this morning, god, thought about it all damn day, and how that bow in your hair looks so sweet, darling— and Ed’s toes fucking curl when Stede’s words grow even more sinful, even more breathless, asking what they’d all think if they knew, hm? If they could see the way you beg, hear the way you whimper for my cock first thing in the fucking morning—
Absurdly, unfathomably, unbelievably, Ed may not fucking last like this. Without even a touch, without so much as a fucking stroke around his aching cock, Stede’s words are sending jolts of fire down his spine all on their own, shooting through him again and again as they wrap around his mind like filthy, loving swaths of silk.
“Keep—fuck, keep talking,” Ed suddenly pleads in a barely-restrained rush, unable to help himself, cheek pressing to the cool, rough brick in front of him as Stede’s hips snap even faster into his.
A growl works its way out of Stede’s throat at the request alone, and the hand on Ed’s back slides up without warning, instead wrapping itself tightly into Ed’s hair to tug his head back an inch closer. It’s a startling loss of sensation as Ed’s cheek lifts away from the coarse rub of brick, leaving only the soothe of the summer night air on his face. Ed gasps as Stede’s mouth presses hot to the shell of his ear, shivers already pouring down Ed’s skin like a waterfall at the hush of Stede’s heavy breath against him.
“Would you like that?” Stede asks in a whisper that could almost be sweet, almost a soft, shaking caress to Ed’s senses if not for the slick, messy drag of his cock against Ed’s skin. “If everyone knew how good you really are?”
The words crash through Ed’s mind like a hurricane he’s unprepared for. His legs shake beneath him as a whine crawls out of his throat, unbidden, held secure in Stede’s grip and helpless to the blazing wind in his lungs.
“How you get to your knees for me in a heartbeat,” Stede moans, and his fingers are going to leave bruises, Ed knows, and Ed’s going to stare at them and stroke them and savor them every moment no one’s looking, he knows. “How you do everything I tell you and look so lovely doing it—how you—fuck, Ed—how you take my cock like you were made for it—”
Ed is trembling head to toe now, forehead damp as Stede fucks wildly up against him, like he’s losing himself in his own dark praises. He pauses to bury a ragged moan in Ed’s neck, latch a kiss onto the side of it and bite, and Ed lets out a gasping cry that doesn’t quite end, only melts into sharper, breathy moans as Stede takes what he likes from him, faster and faster. It’s fucking impossible, how Ed can almost taste the edge of his climax off this alone, like the sunrise, like the stars, like falling off a cliff and gasping at the rocks below—
“God, should let them see,” Stede pants, words hitching up to a telltale pitch like a storm on the horizon, ready to swallow them both whole. “Let them see how damn perfect you are—how I’ll never let you go—how I love—god, love you—fuck—fuck—!”
Ed sees stars behind his eyelids at the sudden, hot rush of Stede coming over his skin, spilling against his lower back. Stede shakes against him with it, clutching Ed like Ed’s never belonged to anyone more, and fuck, he hopes he never does, wants to live and breathe this way forever, always Stede’s, only Stede’s, fuck, fuck, shit, “Stede—!”
It’s a crackle of lightning ripping straight down his spine, a gasping rush of pleasure whiting out his mind in an instant, and Ed cries out as he comes with an earthquake in his chest, entirely untouched. Stede is still clutching and moaning and shaking against him, still riding out his own release with sharp, erratic movements that carry Ed all the way to the end, fingers flying back to Stede’s own hip to keep them together, aligned, in sync, bound all the way to the depths of their souls.
Stede breathes harshly against his neck in the aftermath, falls into mouthing hot, unfocused kisses to every inch of Ed’s skin he can reach. Ed melts into it, pliant and stunned with delight, and soft laughter begins bubbling up out of him despite his spinning head, finally lifting a shaky hand up to Stede’s hair.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he pants in approval. Stede gives a sound between an agreement and an apology, and Ed wants to snatch the latter straight out of his mind and hurl it into the sea.
“Christ, Ed, I—hell,” Stede huffs. “I couldn’t wait.”
“Clearly,” Ed breathes with a smirk. Stede suddenly seems to remember himself, taking in a sharp breath and lifting his head at once, burying a kiss behind Ed’s ear.
“God, sorry, darling—I didn’t even—” Stede’s hand is already sliding around Ed’s hip, hurriedly pulling up his shirt in front to reach for Ed’s cock, and Ed bursts into laughter as he reaches down to still Stede’s wrist reassuringly.
“Mate,” he breathes, tipping his head back against Stede’s shoulder, “I just came so fucking hard all over the wall.”
Stede pulls a sharp breath in behind Ed’s ear. “You what?” he asks in shock, and then must see the evidence over Ed’s shoulder, suddenly burying another heated sound in Ed’s shirt. “Oh, fuck, Ed.”
Ed hums in lazy agreement, nodding as he threads their fingers together with a satisfied chuckle. “Some fuckin’ mouth you’ve got on you, love. Never been talked into coming before.”
Now Stede’s voice is filled with interest, low and lilting as he lets his hand glide over Ed’s skin beneath his shirt. “Now, that’s interesting,” he whispers. “Maybe I ought to clean you up and take you back to the ship after all, hm? Explore that a little more?”
“Maybe you fuckin’ ought to,” Ed agrees with a chuckle, and Stede laughs quietly back. There’s a glide of smooth silk against Ed’s back then to clean his skin, and Ed wonders if it’s the same handkerchief Stede bought a short few hours ago as they shopped in the port. Like Ed is precious enough to warrant such newly-won finery and such soft care, even now.
Ed feels a deep, warm contentment settle into his bones as he lets himself relax into this, despite still being half-naked and utterly debauched in a poorly-concealed alleyway. They’ll be clothed again in mere moments, only a little worse for wear as they walk with linked fingers back to the ship for the night. They’ll be flushed and laughing, and perhaps Stede’s shirt will be rumpled, and perhaps the bow in Ed’s hair will be slightly askew.
Perhaps, if anyone looks closely, they’ll see the layers beneath their grins; they’ll see the heat and affection and hard-won love, the months of rebuilding, the most worthwhile thing Ed has ever fought for. Perhaps they’ll see it all. Perhaps they already have.
Fuck, let them see.