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Ed wakes with the dawn. The cabin is bathed in its grey, and Ed comes to curled around Stede, face buried in the curve of his neck, arm wrapped around his waist and leg thrown over his hip. Stede is snoring softly, snuffling when Ed presses a sleepy kiss right where the collar of Stede’s nightgown ends, more of habit than anything. Then he presses another, just for good measure and for the lingering, briny taste of sea and the clean, floral soap that clings to Stede's skin. His lids are still heavy, slipping half-closed, and he basks in that warm, liminal space for as long as his body lets him—which, unfortunately, is not long enough. It never is, when Stede is involved.
There will be no falling back asleep, not on a morning like this. Though the sky is clear from what Ed can see outside the windows, where twilight has just begun bleeding into the rose gold of morning over the distant chop of the waves, there’s a ghost of an ache in his knee that promises rain at some point during the afternoon, probably a quick shower and nothing more. The ache isn’t enough to be a hindrance, but it’s just enough to keep Ed away from the pull of sleep, which he grumpily frowns at the nape of Stede’s neck over.
As he wakes he gives himself a few minutes to just lie there, tracing the curls of Stede’s hair with his fingers, appreciating the firm bulk of his body against his own, the steady exhalations of his breathing. Stede’s nightgown had bunched up at some point during the night under Ed’s thigh, and it’s pulled up nearly to his hip, partly exposing the full, milky curve of one buttock, all that warm skin pressed against Ed’s. It’s like a full belly, this deep, satiated sensation. Makes him content and drowsy, makes him think about chasing it, catching it, always keeping it close. Somewhere safe and quiet and all his where no one else can take it.
Watching the rise and fall of Stede’s shoulder, Ed wonders what it would be like in another life, where they didn’t have a ship to captain, no duties to be done. Where they could spend these lazy mornings in bed without worrying about who would barge in, or if they’d be safe from the British for another day. A life where they could just be Ed and Stede and no one would care who they were or what they were to each other. Where being each other’s weakness didn’t come with the shadow of death peeking around a corner.
(And it’s certainly a new concept for him, since for as long as he can remember Ed has chased this type of unpredictable and dangerous life: the adrenaline rushes alone have been the only things that kept him going at his lowest.)
Ed loves their life together, but sometimes he wishes it were easier. Not like retirement, not quite yet, but just like—them setting their own pace. Doing things on a whim. True alone time: time to kill and share and never take for granted. Ed had spent so much of his life searching, never allowing himself to want until Stede came along, and now he can. He knows a greed that goes far beyond material riches. Now, it’s given to him freely, and he’s hungry for it.
In his sleep Stede makes a quiet, snorting sort of noise, turning his head to burrow deeper into the pillows, and Ed takes that as his cue to get up and get the rounds over with, quick as you please, come back and give them both some of that alone time before Roach will be around with tea and breakfast and the day will have to begin.
Carefully climbing out of the bed, Ed winces at the weight on his knee until he adjusts, then looks around the cabin for his pants. Raising his arms above his head for a stretch, Ed lets out a sharp, relieved groan at the cascade of cracks it sends down his spine and in his shoulders, finds his pants halfway across the cabin, and hops around as quietly as possible as he shimmies into them. Just as he’s wandering towards the piano while doing up his leathers and wondering what he did with his gloves, if he tossed them or put them on one of Stede’s many bits of furniture, he hears a quiet, inquisitive noise behind him.
“Mmm, Edward,” Stede whines, eyes half-open, as Ed turns. “Where are you going?” His face is smushed in the pillow, sheets tucked around his calves and between his feet. He’s so hopelessly fucking endearing, and Ed loves him so much he thinks he’d sink like a stone in the sea with the weight of it.
Ed casts a glance down at him, looking all sweet and soft tangled up in the sheets, nightgown twisted around him. His heart clenches, just a bit, at the thought of leaving Stede even for a moment, like they aren’t on a ship and always within shouting distance of one another. That’s love, he supposes. Fucking mental thing, how it stirs you up like it does.
“Didn’t mean to wake you, love,” Ed whispers. He strokes his fingers over the rasp of morning stubble across Stede’s cheek, lets them linger longer than necessary to soak in the warmth of Stede’s skin. “Go back to sleep, yeah? I’ll be back shortly.”
Ed turns, searching the floor for his shirt that he threw…somewhere last night. Warmth settles pleasantly in his chest as he remembers why it—and his trousers, which had landed somewhere near the chaise when he’d gone to pick them up—were strewn about. Along with his chest, the warmth also begins to grow in his belly the longer he reminisces about the progression of the night, and he shuffles his feet against the floor at the steady drip of it. Maybe when he gets back he can climb back into the bed, kiss the nape of Stede’s neck, slip his hands under that frilly little nightgown and feel all of Stede’s soft curves and hard lines…
“Hey, no, come back here,” whines Stede again, grabbing the waistband of Ed’s leather pants. Ed halts along with his train of thought, and Stede urges him to turn by tugging more insistently at the waistband until Ed’s facing the bed, knees nearly touching the mattress. His hair falls into his eyes as he looks down. Stede looks up, fluttering his lashes, his own hair a coiled, messy mass falling lopsided into his eyes. Ed’s resolve begins to crumble quickly, damn him. Stede knows Ed can’t resist when he acts coy, not like the insatiable man Ed knows him to be, and he can resist even less when Stede begins to pout at him. Ed knows he’s got the big brown eyes in the relationship, but what Stede can do with his own hazel eyes to get Ed to cave should be criminal. “Don’t go, darling. Come back to bed. I had such a wonderful dream about you.”
“Stede,” says Ed, swallowing hard as he watches Stede’s fingers inch closer to the side Ed has himself tucked in, belly tensing in anticipation. “Morning rounds and all that—”
“Fuck the rounds,” replies Stede. His fingers slip down. Curve over the hardening shape of Ed’s prick, tap against the sensitive head. Ed exhales low and long, lids lowering at the sharp spark of pleasure. A self-satisfied smile carves that damnable dimple into Stede’s cheek as he says, pressing the heel of his palm over Ed, “The crew can handle themselves for a bit longer, don’t you think?”
Honestly, they probably can’t. Ed has grown fond of them, truly, but he’s never met a bunch who can get into more trouble without even trying. But…it also won’t be the first time they’ve been left to their own devices. It definitely won’t be the last time, either. Lucius is going to hate them. Izzy is going to have that sucked-on-a-lemon face when they resurface. Ed doesn’t care. Can’t care when Stede is looking up at him like that, face mere inches from his groin and a filthy promise in his eye.
“Greedy,” is what Ed manages, voice coming out unsteady. Forty-odd years he’s been on this earth, and he’s never been this hard-up before.
“And whose fault is that? Surely can’t be my handsome co-captain and the love of my life.” Christ. Hearing that still clangs like a bell inside Ed; he doesn’t know how he got so fucking lucky, a bastard like him. ‘Course, though, it’s not like Stede is innocent, either, with his devil of a tongue and his deep-rooted selfishness.
Stede sits up in bed and slowly, meticulously begins to undo the front of Ed’s pants with those thick, dexterous fingers. He parts the leather flaps, humming when the thatch of grey-black pubic hair comes into view, followed by the root of Ed’s cock. “Oh, there we are. Gorgeous. Already getting hard for me, my love?”
It doesn’t take much Ed nearly says. He’s been adjusting to life at a near-constant half-chub ever since Stede came back. “Would you like to see?” is what he asks on a gravel-rasp, and at Stede’s nod he orders, “Get me out.” Fuck the rounds indeed; let fucking Izzy take them, for all Ed cares, which isn’t much when he’s scant minutes away from Stede touching him, body coiling tight.
Stede pushes the flaps aside and tugs the waistband down, groaning when Ed’s prick springs free into his palm, leathers bunched inelegantly just past his hips. Curling his fingers around it, Stede does little more than loosely stroke him at first, getting him fully hard and straining. Hefts its weight in his palm, rubs the sensitive underside of the head with the heel of his palm until the tip begins to grow wet and Ed’s breath has grown shallow.
“Oh,” Ed sighs, scratching fingers along Stede’s scalp, watching the movement of his hand, how his cock flexes against the soft broadness of his palm and drips viscous pre-come onto Stede’s pale wrist. “That’s good, babe.”
Stede beams up at him, takes him fully in hand, working his fist like Ed’s meant to belong there. The sound is faintly slick in the quiet of the cabin as Ed’s leaking begins to pick up with every pump of Stede’s fist, leathers creaking as Ed shifts restlessly and exhales a groan. “Come a little closer—yes, thank you, dear. Now just stay right there—”
“Fuck!” Ed yelps, fist involuntarily tightening in Stede’s hair and pulling. “Oh, god.” Stede’s just slid his mouth halfway down Ed’s prick, lips just shy of meeting the circle of his fist. He’s still getting his bearings when it comes to this, and is the unfortunate owner of a fairly sensitive gag reflex, but he makes up for it with enthusiasm, like he does now, sucking messily while blinking up at Ed. He pulls back with a hungry noise, the tip of his tongue slipping into the slit of Ed’s cock, and sinks back down, bobbing his head and moving his fist, tongue a pink flash as he laves it over the soft slope and the sensitive spot underneath.
“Fucking fuck shit,” Ed swears, thumbing over Stede’s cheek where he can feel the shape of his prick sliding in and out of that warm, wet heat. The fire that had begun in his belly has turned into a mighty roar, setting his toes to curling in the soft rug at his feet. As much as he’d like to come down Stede’s throat, and as much as he’d love to hear more of those little noises and soft, overwhelmed chokes, he doesn’t want it to end yet. “Stede,” he warns, “I’m gonna—ohhh, fuck—come if you don’t stop.”
Humming around Ed’s prick, Stede moves closer, a hand dropping to his own lap to palm himself, and Ed swears again, fisting Stede’s hair and tugging him back. Stede goes with a wet pop, lips slick and shiny, chest heaving as he catches his breath. Their eyes lock, Stede’s hand falls from his lap, and he clears his throat delicately, like he wasn’t just tonguing the slit of a prick.
“Take your pants off, please,” Stede says, voice on its way to pleasantly raspy.
Ed inelegantly kicks his leathers off, prick bobbing eagerly in front of him as he goes, and is briefly grateful he hadn’t gotten any further than putting those on as he climbs into bed. Stede throws one leg over Ed’s, climbing onto his lap; the nightgown drapes between them, soft where it whispers against Ed’s skin. Stede takes Ed’s hand in his, bringing it up to his lips, and Ed watches with a pounding heart as Stede kisses the pad of each finger. Then, dark eyes molten on Ed’s, he takes that hand, guides it between them, and moulds Ed’s hand around the hot, stiff weight of his cock through his nightgown.
“Feel how hard you make me?” Stede asks, low, fingers tightening over Ed’s. Ed doesn’t need to feel; the nightgown is semi-sheer at the best of times, and now, with the sun streaming in, Stede may as well be wearing nothing at all for what it shows. It’s still thrilling every time, seeing and feeling the weight of Stede’s desire, and it’s with a dry throat that he swallows hard and nods, lips parting. He pulses his fingers, makes Stede do that growling-moan thing that always immediately sets Ed’s balls to throbbing.
When Ed pulls his hand back, there’s a damp circle where the head presses, tenting out the front of his nightgown. His prick is limned in gold, its proud curve shadowed in soft muslin; somehow, this almost feels more erotic than if Stede were straddling him with his cock out. Ed smooths his hands over Stede’s hips, drawing it tighter over the shape of him. It twitches mightily, and Ed can’t hold back his groan.
“Can I fuck you?” he asks breathlessly. The edges of his consciousness are singed smoky with lust, and he’s almost certain he’ll die if he doesn’t get inside Stede as soon as possible.
“Please,” Stede whines, cupping Ed’s face, tucking the loose spill of Ed’s hair out of the way. He grinds down, the soft fabric of his nightgown skittering pleasure up Ed’s spine where it drapes over his cock. He presses their lips together, slips his tongue along the swell of Ed’s lower lip, gently parts Ed’s lips and deepens the kiss into something filthy that makes Ed’s toes curl.
“How—?” Ed asks, pulling back with a gasp and a trailing strand of saliva that he breaks by licking his lips.
Stede follows every movement, sharp-eyed, flushed. “Like this, just like this. Where’s the—?”
“Here—” Ed feels around where he remembers dropping the oil last night, somewhere between the wall and the edge of the bed. He finds the little bottle with a triumphant noise that quickly melts into a moan when he turns and sees Stede watching, fisting his prick through the material. “Jesus, Stede, gonna fuckin’ kill me, you are. Ruck up your nightgown.” As Stede gathers the hem in his hands, Ed stops him with a hand on his wrist and adds in that low timbre Stede can’t resist, “Slowly.”
Stede does. First, it’s the pale expanse of his thighs, all that red-gold hair and deceptively strong muscle corded there as he shifts his weight on Ed’s lap. Then it’s the flushed-dark lightly-furred swells of his bollocks, warm where they rest against Ed’s skin, just shy of where his prick drools against his hip. Ed feels as if he’s sweating all over by the time the nightgown itself is draped over the heavy hang of Stede’s prick, which is already dripping onto Ed’s belly as he hurriedly slicks his fingers and squeezes Stede’s arse. The space between his cheeks is humid, soft-coarse hair brushing over Ed’s knuckles as he trails them over the skin behind Stede’s balls, circling over his hole, getting him slick.
“Fucking hell. You’re still so loose,” Ed groans, slipping two fingers in, thumb rubbing over the still-swollen rim. Last night had seen Stede bent nearly in half, begging for Ed to go harder. “Are you sure you’re good to go again like this? I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.”
Stede shudders, brow pinching, in pleasure or pain or both, Ed can’t quite tell, and pushes his arse out. Ed crooks his fingers, slowly working them in and out, Stede yielding easily around him, going soft and relaxed with every pass of his knuckles.
“If you don’t have to carry me the rest of the day then I think this will be time wasted,” Stede eventually replies a shade away from bitchy, grinding down against Ed’s fingers.
“You mean I haven’t been doing my job?” Ed asks, feigning affront. “You should have told me sooner.” He slides his fingers free and spills more oil into his palm. He can’t help the grunt as he slicks himself up; Stede’s already rising up onto his knees, reaching behind himself. Their fingers brush as Stede positions the slick head of Ed’s prick at his entrance, taking a deep breath before beginning to bear down. They groan simultaneously, Stede gasping as the head pops in, hands on Ed’s chest, nightgown billowing between them.
Ed rucks the nightgown up, stroking over every inch of skin as it’s revealed, cupping the swells of Stede’s arse in his palms and swallowing down Stede’s keen as he tugs him down for a kiss. They rock together, Stede’s prick dragging slick over Ed’s belly, his thighs trembling as Ed edges deeper with shaking thighs. The sun is warm behind his eyelids, Stede’s scent is everywhere; their kiss slowly turns into sharing breath, lips brushing as quiet, unconscious noises spill like honey between them.
Sometimes, when they fuck, there’s talking. Chatter, banter, dirty talk and the like. Laughter, sometimes. Tears, in those dark days. Other times, it’s quiet, save for the sounds they make instinctively. Ed likes the times the best, and he’ll never admit under pain of death to anyone but Stede, but the quiet intimacy has rapidly become his favourite thing.
Today, it’s a mix of both, all that heavy breathing mingled with Ed’s quiet encouragement and Stede’s soft adulations. They’re slow in finding a rhythm, content to let it ramp up at its own pace, pleasure sweet and sticky like molasses. It’s a great, gradual thing, much like the sunrise outside the windows; and, like the sunrise, it sneaks up on him, and Ed doesn’t realise just how keyed up he is until it’s shining right in his eyes.
“Oh, fuck,” Stede moans, leaning back, bracing his weight with a hand on Ed’s knee as he starts riding him with shallow rolls of his hips. Sunlight cuts across him, showcases the slick curve of his prick where it bobs between his legs. A bead of pre-come pearls at the tip and stays there until Stede begins rocking his hips hard and fast; then it slides down, shining over the underside of the head, before stringing off onto Ed’s belly when he straightens up and grinds down.
Ed reaches up and undoes the buttons of the nightgown, shoving the flaps aside and making a pleased sound in the back of his throat at the grey-blond chest hair it exposes, the soft flushed skin at the base of Stede’s throat, the curve of his shoulder when he pushes it as far to the side as he can. The sleeve slips down where it had been bunched up at the bend of Stede’s elbow, falling to his wrist. Under them, the bed creaks, counterpoint to the gentle rocking of the sea beneath the hull.
“What was your dream?” Ed asks, flexing his hips up as Stede rolls his down. He says, on a moan as Stede slaps a hand to the wall to keep his balance as Ed pistons hard up into him, “T-tell me.”
“You were—mm—underneath me, spread over this bed. I had—oh god yes—my mouth on you, and I—I was able to take you fully down my throat.” Stede’s blush deepens, and he closes his eyes, biting his lower lip as he drags his hand down his neck, over his chest through the nightgown, where he pauses to rub over a nipple. It hitches his breath, parts his lips just slightly as he sinks into his pleasure. He moves his hand from the wall and rises up onto his knees, the muslin covering their thighs as he moans loudly. “It felt like so much, and yet I wanted more. Y-you were making the most amazing sounds, darling. Oh, yes, there. I wished I could bottle them up to listen to them whenever I wanted.”
Ed thinks he can remember a bit of quiet moaning from Stede that pulled him from the haze of sleep, but he’d been too exhausted to let the thought permeate that veil. A thrill zips up his spine, and he curls slightly in on himself, clutching at Stede’s thigh as a shudder ripples through him, hips stuttering up to meet Stede’s with a great needy clap of skin.
“Can’t help myself with you,” admits Ed when he can breathe, when the rush passes, palms spread at Stede’s soft hips now, feeling the flex of his movements under his palms. Grinding down, Stede briefly takes himself in hand, mouth falling open. The open, almost-pained pleasured expression coupled with the ribaldry of his open nightgown and the swish of his frilly cuff as he strokes himself is sharper than a blade as it pierces Ed. “Fuck, you’re beautiful. Never—never had a reason to want to be loud, before.” Sometimes it’s so much that I have to, because I feel like I’ll explode if I don’t let the world know how you make me feel.
“I love that you are,” Stede says, bending forward to kiss Ed, grinding his prick between their bellies as he takes Ed’s chin with a hand to keep him still, thumb on his chin and tongue slipping against his teeth. A circle of his hips leaves them groaning; Ed bites down gently on Stede’s lower lip, hands grabbing at his arse. “Oh! Oh, god, Edward, sweetheart. You feel so good in me.”
His hands clutch at Ed’s chest, rubbing over his nipples as he kisses the length of Ed’s neck, down to the hollow of his throat and back up to his chin. The path he leaves is wet, a cool touch in the humidity of the cabin until it warms up. He’s panting as he straightens, thighs trembling and pace slowing, sweat darkening the grey-blond hair at his temples.
“Need to switch?” asks Ed, and at Stede’s nod he urges him up and slides out, shushing away the whimper Stede makes when Ed’s prick slips free with a slick noise, and guides Stede onto his hands and knees, where he goes unsteadily, an awkward tangle of legs in the small space that leaves them both laughing as Stede spreads his legs on either side of Ed’s, his arse up, hole slick and red and loose in the sunlight streaming gold across the bed.
Ed steadies the sway of his cock and feeds it back into Stede, sucking in a breath at the clutch of his body. When he bottoms out he stays there, running his fingers up and down the outsides of Stede’s thighs, up over the curves of his hips, where he sometimes aches and tries to hide it. They aren’t young, but Ed doesn’t wish they were. They met at the right moment in their lives, and Ed isn’t going to take any of it for granted, aching joints included. If there’s anything sentimental that piracy has taught him, it’s that the time you’ve got on earth is precious.
Stede reaches back, seeking Ed’s hand out, where it’s curved over the front of his thigh. When he squeezes, Ed pulls out, pushes back in, and slips their fingers together.
“I’m close, Ed,” Stede says, back dipping and hand falling to the bed to prop himself up. He moans and pushes back, circles his hips, says, “Please, please,” and whines sharply when the angle hits him just right. It’s a full-body tremble, something Ed feels from shoulders to feet, and one that stokes the lust inside him hotter.
“Wanna come on you,” Ed pants, gripping onto Stede’s shoulder, using the other to tug Stede’s thigh just a little wider. “Can I? Please?”
“Not—not the nightgown,” Stede says, peering over his shoulder. He’s a wreck, flushed prettily across the bridge of his nose, eyes so dark they may as well be glittering black gems. “I like this one. Let me just—”
Ed, one step ahead, pushes the nightgown up, exposing more of Stede’s back, slick with sweat in the sunlight. The sweetheart curve of his arse is reddened from the slap of their skin; licking the pad of his thumb, Ed reaches down, rubs over the top of where he’s stretching Stede wide. Stede squeaks, knees spreading wider, hole clenching tightly around Ed.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Stede gasps, as Ed groans. “Right there, don’t stop, Edward, oh, I’m going to—”
When Ed comes, it’s with a low, tremulous moan and a sharp yank from deep within him. He pulls out with seconds to spare and his semen splashes hot over the swell of Stede’s arse, just shy of the hem of his nightgown. Spills down one cheek, over the soft backside of one thigh, slips between the divide of his arse over the inviting gape of his hole as Stede shudders below him, back dipping as he strokes himself off. He comes with a keening grunt, collapsing onto his forearm while he works himself through it.
“Holy fuck,” Ed gasps out, curved over Stede as he catches his breath. His entire being buzzes, lit-up static mixed with the embers of a fire. The way the cooling trails of semen look on Stede’s skin in the sun could put opals to shame with how the light shines off them. “Babe.”
Stede laughs; Ed feels it as much as he hears it. “We’re good together, aren’t we, love?”
Ed could cry. Can actually feel the tears, before he blinks them back. It’s too fucking early to get emotional over them like this. “We’re the fucking best together.”
From above deck comes shouting and clattering footsteps. On its heels is the sound of something heavy crashing down, followed by cheers. Ed sighs up at the ceiling, watching the chandeliers quake.
“Suppose I should get dressed and go check on what the fuck they’re doing now.” He finds the cloth they’d used last night on the floor, half-hidden by the rug, and makes a face at it before wiping Stede off gently and tossing it to the side, vowing to wash it later. “I’ll be back, darling.”
Stede rolls onto his back, beautiful indecent in how his legs sprawl across the sheets and his soft prick rests on the fabric over his hip, and smiles up at Ed, beckoning him down for a sweetly slow kiss. He briefly, gently traps Ed’s lower lip between his teeth as he begins to pull back, letting go and kissing him once more. He pats Ed’s cheek and says, stroking his fingertips through Ed’s beard, “Love you.”
Ed, so full of love for this man he is one-hundred-percent absolutely certain he’d sink, places his hand over Stede’s and says, “Love you.”