Chapter Text
Ed is frozen. His fist is still raised to a door that isn’t there any more and all thoughts of whatever-the-hell-it-was he came to tell Stede about have vanished, because – bloody hell.
It’s not so much the fact that Stede is wearing practically next to nothing – although, dear God, the sheer blue silk leaves very little to the imagination, and the lantern-light picks out all manner of details – but that he also looks like something in a dream, or a book. Something like a painting that Ed once saw on a ship that he was looting, and that he wanted, but knew he’d never be able to get past his crew, especially Izzy. Stede looks like a creature out of time, something completely separate from the grubby, raging world that Ed’s used to, and he stares.
“Ed?” Stede is blushing, pink spreading up from his chest and along his neck and into his cheeks. This is...embarrassing. But if it’s an emergency, embarrassment be damned. “Edward?” He puts the lantern down on a small table near the door, ready if unwilling to be hauled up onto the deck to deal with an attack.
“Iiii...I…” Ed’s mind has only recovered slightly from the initial shock. In the blue silk, Stede looks meltingly lovely, and Ed tries desperately to get a grip on himself – well, not like that. At least, not until he can find somewhere on the ship that’s very secluded and –
Stede blushes even more, the pink deepening to red around his neck. “I, um, you know I like… fine things. I thought after today… I’d treat myself…”
He’s started to look worried, as if Ed might be thinking the worst of him for wearing something so fine. Ed manages to wrench his minimal brainpower away from thinking about how the silk moves gently, slipping against Stede’s thighs and torso, to blurt, “No! No, you – you look – you look lovely.” He nearly rolls his eyes at such an unimaginative compliment.
But Stede’s cheeks flush, and he gives Ed a nervous smile. “Do you like it?”
“I like you in it,” Ed answers, unable to be anything else other than bluntly honest when Stede is standing in front of him looking like something out of a dream. He steps a little closer, repeating his movement from earlier; this time there’s no awkwardness, no confusion. He takes the chance. “I like you in it very much.” He reaches out carefully, slowly – slow enough for Stede to step back, if he’s wrong. He strokes down Stede’s side, the silk rustling gently, to rest his hand, warm and solid, against Stede’s hip. “Very, very much.” He applies just a little pressure from his fingertips.
Stede realises that no amount of Latin declensions are going to save him this time. He swallows. He can feel his heart thumping in his chest; his skin seems to thrum under Ed’s hand. “Ed – ”
But Ed has glanced down, and the silk betrays what daytime layers of clothing might hide, and he lets out a sigh that’s half-relief, half-lust. He and Stede throw caution to the wind at exactly the same time; Stede wraps his arms around Ed as Ed pounces, crushing blue silk in his hands as he kisses Stede fiercely. Stede moans when Ed’s thigh nudges in between his own; Ed presses against him, warm and solid and hard, and they nearly end up rutting in the doorway before someone has enough presence of mind to stumble back into Stede’s cabin. Ed kicks the door shut; they break apart for a moment, breathing heavily.
Stede is dishevelled, the blue silk decidedly crumpled where Ed’s hands have roamed, and that lovely rosy flush hasn’t gone away. A thousand things occur to him to say, most of them too useless or shy or plain bloody stupid, and in the end he musters up a “well, this is a surprise” and immediately feels like an idiot.
Ed grins. “You’re telling me.”
Stede smiles back, shyly. “Are you sure? I mean, you’ve surely had – well, not that I’m assuming or anything, it’s just – ” this is Blackbeard, he thinks, who’s probably got someone, or several someones, in every port.
“I want you,” Ed says, and before another doubtful thought can even cross Stede’s mind, Ed sinks to his knees and presses his open mouth against the bulge of Stede’s cock against the silk. Stede gasps; Ed runs his tongue across soft silk and hard lines. Stede staggers back against the wall and Ed follows, bunching the nightgown out of the way so that he can take Stede’s cock into his mouth, with no silk to hinder him, and Stede moans.
Ed strokes the hand that isn’t holding a bunch of silk up Stede’s thighs, his hips, the base of Stede’s cock, and there rests, his fingers curling around what he can’t fit into his mouth. He explores Stede with his tongue, finding out what will produce more of those delightful moans and whimpers, and he feels like his own cock gets even harder when Stede begins groaning his name. Or – he pauses for a moment and looks up. Stede’s watching him, pupils blown, lips still kiss-swollen, and he pants, “Bed.”
Ed is only too happy to oblige. He stands up and pulls Stede to him, all kisses and lips and tongues and Stede’s hands seeking out buttons and hems of clothing; they both stagger across the room and somehow manage to fall onto the bed. Ed kicks off his boots and the rest of his clothes; Stede follows suit and the silk slips to the floor.
If Ed thought that Stede was lovely in the silk, he’s delicious out of it. He falls to worshipping Stede’s body, kissing as much as he can reach and reaching down to stroke Stede’s cock. He thrills when he feels Stede’s hand tentatively wrap around his own erection and match Ed’s rhythm. “Oh, fuck,” Stede whispers, and Ed feels almost dizzy with how much that turns him on. They’re a mess of tangled limbs and mouths, and Stede’s moaning, and Ed finds himself babbling, gasping Stede’s name, “fucking gorgeous, mate,” and Stede knows exactly how to move his hand to drive Ed to the brink, and before Ed realises it he’s coming in spurts over Stede’s hand, over his own thigh, and he’s panting against Stede’s neck. He wants Stede in his mouth again; he writhes down the bed and Stede is so hard, so close to the edge that it doesn’t take long, and as Ed swallows he hears a quiet “darling” and realises he wants to hear Stede call him that every day.
He wriggles back up the bed; Stede is laughing softly, coming down from his orgasm, and Ed catches his mouth in a kiss that’s less desperate than before, more tender. He matches Stede with a chuckle of his own.
“So.”
“So.” Stede’s hand strokes up and down Ed’s back; slow, firm strokes. He looks like Ed feels: as if a million Christmases and birthdays have arrived all at once.
“I, um. I like your nightgown,” Ed offers.
Stede giggles. Ed smiles and rests his head on Stede’s shoulder.
“What was it you wanted to tell me?” Stede asks, and Edward remembers that – oh. Yes. Probably too late now. Another time, though.
He smiles and brushes a kiss against Stede’s neck. “Nothing important.”
They fall asleep to the sound of gentle waves breaking against the ship’s sides. In the morning, Ed charts them a new course for a port which is particularly well-known for the range of fine fabrics it has to offer.