Archive of Our Own ^beta

In the past week, Stede Bonnet has developed an insatiable craving for clocks.

They’re all he can think about. When he’s out running errands, he finds himself constantly looking for the time. But not on his wrist or on his phone. Oh, no. Those absolutely will not do. What he needs is a big, beautiful clock belting out the time.

He prefers the old-fashioned ones, with their rich wood cases and the numbers written out in beautifully curling letters, but really, any will do. He hears that tick, tick, tick and he’s immediately transported to another world, drifting off to a place where hands move relentlessly over smooth surfaces, marking the time, marking the movement, on, and on, and on. Never stopping, never yielding, never bending, until it drives him completely mad.

In time, simply observing the clocks he passes in his regular day to day isn’t enough. He returns to his home to pick up some fresh clothing, and since his father is taking more time to die than he anticipated, finds two clocks to bring back to the old man’s house with him: one that had been hanging in his dining room, and then a small one set in marble he’d bought from a shop in Connemara years ago that had been tucked away on a shelf in his office. He brings them into his childhood bedroom and watches them tick and tock for hours. Their sounds don’t match precisely, despite his best efforts, and somehow that thrills him even more.

At night, when he can’t sleep, he roams his father’s house, collecting more clocks as he goes. Stede’s not sure why his father acted as though the clock Stede brought to Ed’s shop to be repaired was so important; now that Stede is actually looking for them, he realizes there is a clock in nearly every room. Some are staid and traditional, others made of gold and covered in jewels. There’s even one that looks like a tiny golden pirate ship. (Well, if tiny is about four feet tall and heavy enough that Stede grunts a bit when he carries it up to his room—compared to an actual ship, though, quite small.) Some run fast, some run slow, some don’t run at all. It doesn’t matter; Stede gathers them all and tucks them away safely in his wardrobe.

Eventually he reaches the point where the clocks at home simply don’t satisfy him, and he turns to Craigslist. He responds to an ad for a “big, beautiful clock in need of handling,” and arrives at the meeting point behind a local pub practically drooling in anticipation. Stede is just wondering where the gentleman has managed to hide the clock in question when he unzips his trousers, pulls out his admittedly impressive erection, and looks at Stede expectantly.

The encounter leaves both of them deeply unsatisfied; Stede returns home with no clock, and the man has to shuffle home with a hard-on to the soundtrack of Stede berating him about the importance of checking his posts for typos before publishing them.

That night, Stede removes all the clocks from his wardrobe. He sets them out around his room, placing each of them down with the utmost care. He runs his fingers down their sides, strokes their faces with light, teasing touches, follows their hands as his breath catches in his throat. He opens them up and feels the gears turning beneath his fingers, clicking steadily on. He holds them close to his eyes, looking for witness marks, looking for signs of whoever had been there before him, whoever had touched them, whoever had felt them come alive within their hands.

And then, as the sounds of ticking and tocking echo all around him in the otherwise completely silent house, he palms himself through his pajama bottoms. He’s hard before he even touches himself, but it only takes a few stray thoughts of tan, tattooed hands gliding over the length of a clock for a wet patch to form at the front. The fabric clings to the head of his cock, and he bites back a moan. Fuck, how he wants to be opened up, to feel the intense gaze of warm brown eyes on him as he comes undone.

Sweat forming on his brow, he shimmies out of his pajama bottoms, gasping as his dick is exposed to the cool air. He reaches for one of the more dilapidated clocks and opens up the back; like Ed, he’s taken to hiding lubricant inside the case. Rising to his knees, he drizzles some over his cock, getting a fair amount on his fingers in his haste.

He pauses. He’s never… but…

Not giving himself time to think, he squirts more over his fingers and then, with the same confidence he attempted to demonstrate with Ed, inserts them into his ass.

“Oh, fuck,” he moans. His dick grows harder and he grips the base, not ready for this to be over so soon. He flexes his fingers, experimenting with the feel of it, familiarizing himself with the sensation.

That’s it. Look at you, fucking yourself on your fingers. I bet you wish it was me.

“I do,” Stede whispers, driving them in deeper. “Fuck, Edward.”

Never been fucked, have you? Never spread your ass wide for someone else? Never let anyone have their way with you?

“No.” Stede swallows. “I don’t…”

But you’d let me.

He would. Easily. Any time. Ed wouldn’t even have to ask. He’d just have to take his clock in his hands and tell Stede to bend over and he’d do anything he asked.

You wished that man behind the pub was me. You would have sucked me off right there. And when I was about to come, I would have pressed you up against the wall and fucked you, hard and fast and deep.

“Please…”

You’d love it. Anyone walking by could see you, legs spread out like a whore—

“—ologist,” Stede whispers. He frantically fists his cock with one hand, and with the other he stretches out until he reaches one of the clocks. His fingers linger over where the hands meet, and they tickle his palm as they turn. Hand and hand in hand; it feels close enough to being held that Stede can almost believe it’s real.

Oh, darling. I can’t wait to take you apart.

Stede throws his head back. Fuck, he can feel Ed’s hands all over him, starting at his neck, running down his sides, moving lower and lower but not quite touching where Stede wants him the most. He spreads his thighs wider and thrusts into his fist, aching, yearning.

That’s it, Stede. Go on, add another finger for me. You can take more, I know you can.

Stede moans as he thrusts his fingers inside of him. Fuck, how could he have gone his entire life without feeling this? He’s never been this hard while playing with himself. His entire body is on edge, wound tight for release. His breath is coming in sharp gasps, punctuating all the filthy words in his mind, its volume quickly overtaking the ticking and tocking of all the clocks surrounding him.

It’s like they’re all cheering him on, counting the seconds that past as determinedly as Stede fucks himself on his fingers. “Go, go, go, go,” they chant. Their faces watch him as he leans forward, his face flush to the lush rug, stroking his dick harder, faster, more, more, more.

That’s it, Stede. Go on, take my cock. Feel how it splits you open.

“Yes. Please.”

Their hands are spinning faster now as they watch Stede work himself closer and closer to release. There’s no sense of time, there’s only sensation, only imagination, only… fuck!

You’re so tight for me, Stede. You take my thick cock so beautifully. It’s good. It’s so fucking good.

“So good,” Stede agrees.

I’m gonna fuck you so good. I’m gonna come inside of you, and you’re going to feel it. Forever. You’re not going to need any fucking witness marks. I’m going to be buried deep inside of you, so fucking deep. You’ll never be free of me.

“I never want… never… fuck!”

Stede manages to position his fingers just right, right against his prostate, and he can’t hold back. He shoots his release over his fist, the rug barely muffling the sound of his shout. He stays there, thighs trembling, his fingers still buried slick in his ass, Edward’s smug, pleased voice still ringing in his head, the clocks all still ticking around him.

Chest heaving, he slowly lowers himself to the floor.

Fuck.

The next day, Stede carefully boxes up all his clocks into several large plastic bins, which he then packs into his father’s largest SUV. Part of him feels a bit childish doing so, like a teenager sneaking out with their parent’s keys, but it’s not like he doesn’t have his own vehicle. It’s just this one is better for the job at hand.

Besides, his father will be dead soon anyway. What’s he going to do? Call him pathetic from beyond the grave?

Probably.

Whatever. Stede doesn’t care. He’ll still be alive, and his father will be dead. As far as he’s concerned, that makes him the victor.

Ed’s shop is located on a rather narrow street, and Stede doesn’t want to risk the vehicle getting trapped there. Fortunately, he had the foresight to also pack a luggage cart. He’s able to stack two bins onto it before he starts getting worried about the stability of them. Of course, Ed’s incredibly talented and could likely fix any clock Stede brought to him, even ones he smashed to smithereens on the cobblestone street outside his shop, but he’s not a miracle worker.

Or is he?

Stede wheels the cart to the front door, struggling only a bit from the awkward weight. He’s beginning to wonder how he can possibly gracefully get through the door with the cart in tow when Ed’s ostensible right-hand man steps out.

“Oh, thank you, Iggy,” Stede says. “Just hold that door open for me, please.”

The man’s eyes narrow, which Stede is beginning to suspect is actually their resting state. “It’s Izzy.”

“Izzy, right,” Stede says as he shoves his way through the door. It’s a shame; he really looks more like an Iggy. “Thank you, kindly.”

“There’s a waiting list,” Izzy says. “I don’t know what kind of junk you have piled in there, but it’ll be years before Mr. Teach is able to see them all.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Stede says. When he cranes his neck over Izzy’s shoulder, he can just see Ed’s face. He gives him a slight wave, and Ed arches an eyebrow in response. “I, for one, would be thrilled to be a patron of Mr. Teach’s for years.”

Izzy growls, but Stede doesn’t bother concerning himself with such childish behavior, especially when there are far more interesting things with which to concern himself. Such as the slightest flush that crossed Ed’s cheeks and how his lips turned up, just the slightest bit, in a shy smile.

It’s surprising, Stede thinks. After everything they’ve gotten up to, he didn’t think Ed had a shy bone in his very attractive body. The smile is gone in an instant, so quick Stede might have thought he’d imagined it, but it remains seared on his brain. An undeniable witness mark of Edward Teach, as crucial and exquisite as all the others Stede has studied since he first walked into his shop a week ago.

Stede wheels his cart into the shop, letting the door close shut between Izzy and himself.

Then, in a fit of optimism, he locks it.

Ed is standing at the desk, holding a rather ugly cuckoo clock in his hands. He’s dressed all in black, his snug v-neck providing a fantastic view of his bicep flexing as he sets the clock back on a nearby shelf. His hair is pulled back in a messy bun, two tempting tendrils framing his gorgeous face, and his glasses are perched atop his head.

Stede has never wanted anybody more.

“You came back,” Ed says.

“Never left,” Stede responds.

He pauses. That’s not actually true, of course. It doesn’t even make sense. But somehow it worked in his head, but now he’s said it out loud, and oh, damn it, how does Ed keep getting under his skin like this?

“Well, that’s what it feels like, anyway,” Stede offers.

To his relief, Ed smiles. “Reckon so. What brings you in?”

You, Stede thinks, but this time he’s quick enough to catch himself before speaking out loud. “Oh, well, I was just going through some of my father’s things.”

Ed’s face softens. “Did he pass?”

“What? No. Well, not yet, anyway. He will. It’s just… not time. Yet.”

“Ah,” Ed nods. “Getting a head start on things?”

“I suppose… well. It’s not. Not in a gauche way.”

Ed laughs. “Relax, Stede. No judgment from me. Believe me, if my father had anything worth going through, I’d have been selling it off the second he gave the slightest hint he was even considering stopping breathing.”

“Oh. Right.” Stede rubs the back of his neck. “Well, the point is, I found a bunch of clocks. Some nicer than others. I thought it might be nice to bring them in, get your professional assessment, get them all in tiptop shape.” He chuckles. “Tick tock shape.”

Ed grins and looks over Stede’s shoulder at the cart. “Both bins?”

“There are another three in the car,” Stede says. “I thought it’d be easier to transport them in stages.”

“Fucking mental,” Ed says, his eyes sparkling. “You know, though, Izzy wasn’t bullshitting you. I know I was able to do a rush order on the one, but if you have five giant bins of clocks…”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Stede says. “I have all the time in the world.”

He locks eyes with Ed, and there’s a long moment when neither of them says anything, but somehow a thousand heated memories pass between them.

For you, Stede says in his mind.

Ed’s eyes grow darker. For you.

Stede clears his throat. “Anyway,” he says, “Would you like to take a look?”

“Sure.” Ed sets down the cuckoo clock. “Lay it on me.”

With hands that are unusually sweaty, Stede opens up the first bin and reaches for the clock on top. He has it wrapped in layers of bubble wrap for protection, but, unfortunately, there’s really no seductive way of peeling off layers of plastic that pop if you squeeze them too hard. But once he’s done, he hands it to Ed for inspection.

Ed makes a low hum of interest and pulls his glasses down to his face.

Now that is seduction. Damn him.

Stede watches greedily as Ed turns the clock over in his hands. Fuck, how he’s missed this. He’s missed seeing those graceful fingers stroke the clock, play with the gears, uncover all its secrets. He feels himself hardening in his pants already, and discreetly presses one palm to the front of his trousers.

Ed raises an eyebrow at him, and Stede knows he was not as discreet as he’d hoped.

But that’s all right. He saw the way Ed swallowed when their hands briefly touched as he handed him the clock. He sees how his gaze flicks occasionally up from the face of the clock to his own. He sees how Ed shifts, ever so slightly, behind the desk, in a way that puts his waist just out of view.

He sees the ghost of a mark still on Ed’s neck.

He sees the way Ed’s hand goes up to touch it when he looks back at Stede and proclaims the clock to be in decent working order.

“Ah,” Stede says, “Well, then. How about the next?”

He pulls out the next clock, which happens to be that funny gold one shaped like an old-fashioned ship. It’s extremely embarrassing to have Ed see him struggle to get it out of the bin, but when Stede feels him move next to him to assist, his body so close he can feel the heat rising off his skin, he thinks it may be worth it. Together, they reach into the bin and pull out the clock.

“You’ve got yourself a big clock,” Ed comments, and Stede nods.

“You probably won’t like it,” Stede says as he begins unwrapping the bubble wrap. “A bit showy, in my opinion. Looks like a gold ship. And it has four faces. I’m not even sure how you’d read the time. But I thought it was interesting.”

Ed’s hands still. “And you just… had this at home?”

Stede shrugs. “My father has all kinds of things. Likes to collect everything shiny and old and that anyone else seems to have half an interest in, just so he can have it for himself.” He pulls off the last of the bubble wrap. “There she is! What do you think?”

Ed’s eyes are wider than Stede’s ever seen them, and his jaw is nearly to the floor. “This… you have… this?”

Stede looks at the clock, then back to Ed. “Yes?”

“This is priceless,” Ed breathes. He turns to look at Stede, accusation hot in his eyes. “And you had her wrapped in bubble wrap?”

“Well, would you have preferred I just strap it to my back and waddle downtown?” Stede snaps. “Don’t see why you care so much anyway. I thought you said you didn’t care for clocks that were all flash, no substance.”

“Oh, she has substance,” Ed says. He opens a desk drawer and pulls out a pair of black gloves. “She’s a wonder.”

Right now, the only thing Stede’s wondering is if it’s normal to be jealous of a clock.

“She was made by John Harrison in the 1730s.” Ed runs one gloved finger along the back, as lightly and delicately as he peppered the inside of Stede’s thighs with kisses last week when he was trying to drive him insane with lust. “Took him five years to create. It was his first attempt at solving the longitude problem.”

Stede has a bit of a longitude problem himself, and it’s in his trousers. This Harrison fellow should get in line.

“Fuck, look at her,” Ed groans. “Oh, darling, I can’t wait to take you apart.”

Oh, fuck no. Hearing Ed utter the exact words that he’d said in Stede’s fantasy the night before, but directed at a clock is simply too much.

Even if she is, admittedly, rather beautiful.

Stede makes his way behind Ed, not quite touching, but close enough that Ed can surely feel the heat of his breath on his bare neck. “Tell me more about this clock.”

Ed shivers. His focus is still on the fucking clock, but with the way he braces himself against the table and juts his hips back, ever so slightly, Stede knows there’s a part of his mind that’s drifting off to the memory of being fucked by his cock.

“Back in the day,” he says, “sailors didn’t have a good way to tell their longitude while at sea. Latitude was easy enough, just by watching the sun, but longitude? Dead reckoning was basically a crapshoot. Led to a bunch of ships getting cracked up on the rocks. Eventually the government decided enough was enough and offered a fuckton of money to anyone who could figure out a way to be able to tell longitude while at sea.”

“A fuckton,” Stede repeats. He steps closer, places one hand at Ed’s waist. “And how exactly do clocks factor into this?”

“Well, the earth takes 24 hours to turn 360 degrees, yeah?” Ed says, tracing one of the faces with his index finger. “That’s 15 degrees per hour. So that means if you know the time where you are, and you know the time at some place that’s zero-degrees longitude — everyone likes Greenwich for this for fuck knows whatever reason — you can figure out your longitude. One hour time difference? That’s 15 degrees. Voila. Longitude.”

It doesn’t make a lot of sense to Stede, but neither math nor geography have ever been his strong suit, and most of the blood that typically nourishes his brain is currently rushing to his cock. “And this Mr. Harrison created this clock for that purpose?” he asks, bending his face closer to the curve of Ed’s neck.

“Well, a regular pendulum clock wouldn’t work,” Ed says. “You’re not on a flat surface at sea, gravity’s different. Everything would be all out of whack.”

Stede bites back a moan. Ed's words would not be out of place at university lecture hall, but he speaks them in the voice of a man who is desperate to be fucked, who is hard and wanting. Each word slides off his tongue like a hand over a come-slicked cock, and it’s all Stede can do not to touch his own.

“Instead she has these.” Ed reaches out with both hands and rubs the two small golden globes atop the clock that are conjoined by a spring. “They swing in opposition and are controlled by these springs. They’re not affected by the ship rocking about because they’re connected by these two two little cross-over wires that synchronize them without wear or friction.”

“No friction, you say,” Stede says, and thrusts his erection against Ed’s ass. “What a shame.”

Ed gasps, and, ever so subtly, pushes back against Stede’s cock. “No… no lubrication either.”

“Hmm,” Stede murmurs. He stretches one hand around, unzips Ed’s fly, and reaches inside. Ed’s hard already, his dick hot and thick in Stede’s hand.

Now he just has to make sure it’s for him and not that damn clock.

“Another shame,” Stede says, stroking him in time with his lazy thrusts. “I would have enjoyed watching you get this clock all nice and wet.”

Ed moans and drops his head backwards so it rests on Stede’s shoulder.

“Nice and slick,” Stede continues, smug in his effect on Ed. He circles the head of Ed’s cock with his thumb, then stills. He doesn’t move his hand away entirely, just simply lets it rest.

Waiting.

“But go on,” Stede says. “Tell me more about this clock. Did Mr. Harrison solve the longitude problem?”

Ed twists his face toward Stede and raises an eyebrow. Stede strokes his cheek with the back of his hand and nods, ever so slightly, and then drops his lips to the faint mark on Ed’s neck.

Ed draws a shaky breath, nods, and continues. “He… he tried for nearly forty years, pretty much up until he died. Made five different versions.”

“Five, you say.” Stede presses his lips against the faint mark on the curve of Ed’s neck. “And none of them got the job done?”

“Oh, they fucking did,” Ed says. His voice, which had sunken into a seductive, breathy drawl, is suddenly full of fire. “The board in charge of testing the instruments and issuing the prize money just fucked him over, time and time again. Said it wasn’t practical. Really they were just a bunch of cheap old bastards who —”

Stede frowns, considering. This is a brand new side to Ed. He’s seen him mysterious and seductive, and desperate and wanting. He’s even seen him be vulnerable, even if it was just over a splinter, and silly. Very silly. Tears spilling over their cheeks with laughter silly. But he’s never seen him like this. It’s passion, yes, but not the kind of passion Stede’s been the lucky recipient of in the past week. It’s something from deep inside of him, something that’s more than just lust. It’s something that makes him Edward.

Stede had brought these clocks in hopes some would pique Ed’s interest and give him plenty of reasons to keep coming by, and coming hard. And, in that matter, he feels he’s succeeded. But it seems he’s gotten even more than he ever expected, and now Stede is aching to uncover more, to find out why Ed is reacting this strongly, to take him apart and examine all those gears and springs and wires, not even to understand what makes him tick.

Just to understand all the parts in the first place.

He can’t just stop and ask him, but he also doesn’t want to just close Ed back up, to hide all those parts he’s kept hidden, just so he can enjoy the way they all come together, to come.

But perhaps…

“What’s that you say?” Stede asks. He slowly moves his palm up the length of Ed’s shaft. “You think I’m a cheap old bastard?”

“What?” Ed shakes his head. “Not you, mate. The fucking board.”

“But I’m on that board,” Stede purrs. “And I could put in a very” He grips Ed’s cock, earning himself a sharp intake of breath, “good word for you.”

There’s a beat, and Stede wonders if perhaps he’s misjudged, perhaps Ed’s not as attuned to his ideas as he thought he might be, perhaps he should explain where he hoped to be going with this. But then Ed speaks, and it’s only two words, but they’re enough to make Stede confident victory was his.

“That so?”

A triumphant dong strikes inside Stede’s mind. He presses his lips to Ed’s temple, his jawline, his neck. “Mmhmm. If you’ll just convince me of the practicality of such a beautiful clock. Perhaps then I can give you some kind of reward. The big prize, if you will.”

He grinds his erection against the curve of Ed’s ass again. Ed’s still standing so tall, so still, clearly trying to appear utterly unmoved by the way Stede’s touching him. But Stede’s grown familiar with Ed’s witness marks, both the more obvious ones, like the way his dick twitches in Stede’s hand when he twists his wrist just so, and the ones Stede likes to imagine may be reserved just for him:

The way his leg stretches back and taps Stede’s foot, rubs it ever so lightly in a discreet pantomime of the way Stede is stroking him.

How the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

How his pulse moves under his skin there.

That barely audible half-moan, half gasp that slips through his lips, that combines Stede’s name with a plea.

Oh, yes. Ed may as well be spread out naked on the floor, ass in the air, revealing every secret part of him, begging and screaming to be fucked.

Stede knows. He thinks back to himself the night before, how desperately he ached to be taken, to be possessed, to be fucked.

He’s going to give Ed what he so desperately craves.

Once he earns it, of course.

“Show me your clock,” Stede rasps. “Show me everything it can do. Show me how it’s going to change the world.”

Ed draws a shaky breath. “Of course,” he says. He delicately removes Stede’s hand from his trousers, then turns to face him. His cock juts out proudly, and it’s all Stede can do not to stare at it. “Why don’t you come upstairs and I can give you a proper demonstration?”

Stede’s heart skips a beat. Ed’s bedroom is upstairs; he remembers him mentioning it at their first meeting, when Stede had mistakenly thought that was where his workroom was located and had confidently headed in that direction. At the time it’d been mortifying, and Stede had been ready to run out the door.

Now it’s taking all his willpower not to sprint up the steps.

“Of course,” Stede says smoothly. “Lead the way.”

Ed starts to remove a glove, and Stede quickly grasps his wrist.

“I think the gloves should stay on.”

Ed looks down at Stede’s hand, then turns his gaze to his face. Behind his glasses, his eyes seem even larger than usual, and they’re burning with such fire Stede wonders if they’ll set the entire shop aflame.

“Yes, sir.”

Stede’s internal gears, lubricated by those two simple, unexpected words, slip and slide and skid around inside him. It’s all he can do to summon the strength to give Ed a curt nod and gesture for him to precede him.

“Get fucked, clock,” Stede hisses under his breath, when Ed’s back is turned. “Oh that’s right. You can’t.”

Ed turns around. “You say something?”

Stede forces his lips into a stern line. “I said that I hope you’ll make this little demonstration worth my time.”

Ed raises a brow. “Nothing little about it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Stede says. And then, after quickly flipping off the clock, he follows Ed up the stairs.

The first thing Stede notices about Ed’s bedroom is how quiet it is.

There’s no ticking nor tocking. Not a single mechanism to mark the passage of time, accurately or otherwise. No hands stepping in time nor dancing wildly outside of it.

Just a purely silent room, decorated in soothing deep blues and greens, with a few pieces of art hanging on the walls and a couple of plants by the windows, the tranquility of it all in direct contrast to the cluttered, tick-tocking chaos of the workshop downstairs.

He turns toward Ed, nearly afraid to breathe.

“Well?” Ed asks. “Do the accommodations meet your approval?”

Stede stretches out a hand and tugs Ed toward him by a belt loop. “It’s not the accommodations I’m interested in. I believe you were going to tell me about a clock.”

“Of course, sir,” Ed says. He twists his hips, causing his erection to rub against Stede’s in a way that nearly has Stede ready to throw away the entire pretense of their game. With a smirk, he pushes Stede backwards so he lands at the foot of the bed. “You make yourself comfortable.”

Stede watches as Ed quickly eases off his shoes, then slips off his own. He’s feeling, like he often does when he’s around Ed, like he’s lost a bit of the plot. This was his game he called, he established the rules. And now he’s sitting here, waiting, wondering where Ed’s planning to take him.

When he’ll call him sir again.

“The first thing you need to know about my clock is that it’s extremely accurate.” Ed pulls his shirt over his head, then saunters over to Stede like a cat stalking its prey. “We’re talking within seconds per month.”

“Impressive,” Stede says, “But does it last?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ed says, and straddles Stede’s waist. “Could last for-fucking-ever. Just go on,” a kiss to Stede’s temple, “and on,” one beneath his chin, “and on,” a nibble at his neck. “I’ll never stop until you beg me to.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Stede says.

“Good,” says Ed. He unbuttons Stede’s shirt and pushes it off his shoulders. “You want to know something else interesting about my clocks?”

“That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?” Stede wraps one arm around Ed and plants his hand at the small of his back, pressing him further down on him without limiting his movements. “Have to make sure I’m making good on my investment in your future.”

“Mmm.” Ed grinds against Stede’s cock, slow, languid circles that Stede might even think are accidental if he wasn’t twisting his torso in a way that makes it clear his aim is seduction. “My clocks don’t require lubrication.”

Stede smacks Ed’s ass, pleased when he gasps and jumps in his hold. “You already told me that.”

“Ah, but you didn’t let me finish,” Ed says, still rolling his hips in an undulating motion. “Like you said, I want to make sure I really earn my prize.”

Stede rubs the spot where he spanked Ed in apology. “Go on.”

“I use a material known as lignum vitae. A very special wood.” Ed quickly undoes Stede’s fly and reaches inside to grab his cock. “But I’d say you know all about that.”

Stede groans. The glove on his dick feels so different from Ed’s bare hand. Part of him misses the feeling of hot skin on skin, but the texture is stimulating in a whole new way. He thrusts upward into Ed’s hand, willing him to go harder, faster, knowing that he won’t.

“It produces a rather slick liquid, so much it’s essentially self-lubricating.” Ed continues stroking Stede’s cock, working the head, the shaft, his balls. It’s a challenge for Stede to keep up his persona of aloof, lascivious philanthropist when all he wants to do is grab Ed by the arms, throw him on the bed, and fuck him until they’re both coming more loudly than all the clocks downstairs, but he’s fully committed to the bit. He simply grabs onto Ed harder, digging his fingers into his flesh, grounding himself the best he can.

Far too soon for Stede’s liking, Ed pulls his hand back out and holds it up to Stede’s face with a smug expression. A sticky stain is already covering the thumb and forefinger. “Yeah, I’d say you definitely know something about that.”

Stede slaps Ed’s ass again. “I hope you don’t think I’m paying you for your mouth,” he says.

“Oh, really?” Ed asks, and slides to his knees. “That’s exactly what I thought you were paying me for.”

He helps Stede shimmy out of his trousers, then grips Stede’s cock again. Stede’s eyes are fixated on his gloved hand. Something about the form-fitting fabric, the way it conceals all of the tattoos Stede has become intimately acquainted with but still reveals all the lines of his hand, how they make his graceful fingers seem even longer, how Stede can feel Ed’s hand stretching the confines of the material as he wraps his hand around him and works his cock, how they somehow scream elegance and power and debauchery all at once.

Ed had donned those gloves to inspect a priceless clock with the utmost care, so he could examine all the pieces that still made it tick, so he could admire its timeless beauty. And now he wears those gloves so he can treat Stede’s cock with the same reverence, take him apart, open him up. Stede could shoot all over those beautiful black gloves, staining them with his come, so they'd bear his mark, the evidence of his passion. No matter how refined they may appear, how pristine, how they were intended for their original purpose, they’ll always be the gloves Ed used to jerk him off.

“Like I said,” Stede says. He slides his hand through Ed’s hair, pausing at the messy bun that’s growing messier by the second, and cups the back of Ed’s head. “I always love a practical demonstration.”

Ed looks up at him, a smug smile playing along the corner of his lips. Stede had always found him otherworldly beautiful, but there’s something about him in glasses that makes Stede wonder if he’ll ever be able to stop staring. With them on, Stede is even more convinced that Ed can see all his secrets, up close, in the most excruciating, blissful detail.

“Well, then,” Ed says, “Mustn’t keep the good man waiting.”

He wraps his lips around the head of Stede’s cock and his hand around the shaft. The light flicks of his tongue are a tantalizing contrast to his firm grip, and Stede is immediately desperate for more of both. He thrusts into Ed’s hand, unable to take his eyes off the way that gloved hand is working his cock and balls or the way Ed’s cheeks hollow as he slowly takes in more and more of his dick.

“The gentleman likes it, I take it,” Ed says in between sucks. He licks the length of Stede’s cock, long and slow, and then presses twin butterfly-light kisses to the inside of each thigh. “Look how much you’re leaking already. I knew you were familiar with all of the most unique kinds of wood.”

“I possess knowledge of a number of things,” Stede says. He doesn’t feel like much of a gentleman with his cock shoved down Ed’s throat, but he can pretend. He twirls one of the tendrils that fell loose from Ed’s bun with a finger, winding it up tight before letting it drop in a satisfying wave, then uses that same finger to trace the line of Ed’s jaw. “Such as how beautiful you look when you work my… clock.”

“I thought I was the one who was supposed to flatter you,” Ed says in between tantalizing licks of Stede’s cock. “Don’t you want to hear me tell you how you are a man of exquisite taste? How I’d love to suck you down, swallow you whole, have your come linger on my tongue?”

“I think I’d rather just have you do it,” Stede says. He grips Ed’s bun and guides him back to his dick. “Go on. You want me to give your clock a prize? Make me forget time exists.”

Ed, apparently, is up to the challenge. He plasters a trail of kisses down Stede’s belly, sucking just enough to raise the skin, letting it snap back with soft, wet smacks all while continuing to work Stede’s cock with his hands. When his mouth returns to Stede’s cock, he swallows it whole, wrapping his gorgeous lips tightly around the shaft.

And then, with his mouth full of Stede’s dick, with a droplet of drool in the corner of his lips, he looks up at Stede and winks.

“Fuuuuck,” Stede moans, tugging harder at Ed’s bun. He thinks a few strands may have come loose, but he doesn’t care. He can’t believe just a few weeks ago he didn’t know what it was like to have Edward Teach suck his dick. He can’t believe he’d gone his entire life without it. He can’t believe he’s gone as many days as he did once he knew what hedonistic heights Ed was capable of bringing him to.

Stede tries to control his hips, but it’s all too good, Ed’s mouth is too hot, too tight, too wet, and he can’t help but buck into it. With no clocks in the room, Stede can fixate more on slick sounds of Ed’s lips sliding up and down his cock, on Ed’s little gasps and sighs and moans, on the slight creak of mattress beneath him as he continues to thrust into Ed, wanting fucking more.

“That’s it,” Stede says. “If only the rest of the board knew what you were capable of, the way you use your mouth, they’d all be throwing their entire trust funds at you, all for your beautiful — ahh! Clocks.”

Ed doesn’t stop sucking, but he does move one hand to shove his jeans down to his knees. He wraps his hand around his dick and begins stroking it, and it’s so fucking hot that Stede can’t even mourn the fact it’s no longer touching him.

“But that’ll be our little secret, won’t it?” Stede purrs. “Only I get to see this. Only I get to know you like this.”

Ed gives a small moan, nods his head around Stede’s cock, but it’s not enough.

With great regret, he pulls Ed off of him. “Say it.”

Ed cocks his head at him, his eyes wide and utterly beatific despite the fact he has a strand of pre-come dripping from the side of his mouth. “Say what, sir?”

Stede yanks Ed’s hair, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to force his head backward. “Say that you’re mine.”

Ed blinks, so slowly Stede thinks he may just be shutting his eyes to him to avoid answering the question. But when he opens them back, it’s clear that Ed Teach is avoiding nothing, and Stede should brace himself for whatever he decides to throw at him.

“I’m yours?” Ed asks, pushing himself to an upright position.

Stede raises an eyebrow, forcing himself to continue meeting Ed’s gaze instead of staring at Ed’s cock that is hard and leaking just a breath away from his mouth.

Ed steps fully out of his jeans and shoves Stede down on the bed. “Then fuck me like I’m yours.”

Stede lays there, momentarily stunned, willing his breathing to get under control. He hears Ed opening and closing a drawer. When he looks to his side, there’s a tube of lubricant as well as a condom next to him.

Facing away from him, Ed throws one leg over Stede’s waist, leaving him with a rather spectacular view of his ass.

“Why don’t you enjoy the show?” Ed asks, rolling his hips in a way that makes his ass seem to undulate like water flowing over a rocky riverbed. “And I can show you how good I am at multitasking. A useful skill in a horologist, don’t you think?”

Then he bends down, and takes Stede’s cock in his mouth once more, and all Stede can feel is heat, and all he can see is want, and oh fuck, what a way to go, with Ed’s perfect ass in his face, inviting him to take it however he wants.

He stretches one arm out and runs it down the snake tattoo slithering down Ed’s back. It steadies him just enough that he doesn’t feel like he’s in danger of coming before he able to properly enjoy Ed’s ass, although it also seems to encourage Ed to arch his back and thrust backwards just so and oh, fuck it all to hell, it’s pointless to even try.

Stede reaches for the lube and squirts a bit onto his fingers. Then, the next time Ed rolls his hips back, makes his cheeks dance in a way Stede knows he’s doing just to entice, Stede inserts two fingers deep inside.

“Mmmmph,” Ed moans around Stede’s cock.

He thrusts back against Stede’s fingers, causing Stede’s dick to slip partially free. The chill is striking, but Stede doesn’t mind. They rock together, Stede opening Ed up with his fingers, Ed working to take as much of Stede’s cock as he can in between grinding against Stede’s hand.

“You love this, don’t you?” Stede asks. He manages to angle himself so he can give a sharp nip to one cheek. “Spreading yourself open for me, begging for me. Such a shameless little slut. You’re desperate for it, aren’t you? Desperate for my cock? For me to fuck you?”

Ed doesn’t say anything, just sucks Stede harder and makes an utterly obscene wet, slurping sound around his dick. Stede bites back a moan.

“You know,” Stede says. “You really do have the perfect ass for a horologist.”

Ed, still intent on sucking Stede’s brains out by way of his cock, wiggles his ass in response.

“I think I could tell time by it,” Stede says. He shifts his fingers. “This, right here? I believe that would be 12:00.” He angles it slightly, just ever so, enough to make his point. “Maybe 11:00, if we’re being really accurate. I know how much you pride yourself on accuracy.”

“Mmmmm.”

“And here?” Stede twists his fingers downwards, gives a light stroke. “That’s just about 7:00. A fine hour.”

Ed groans, shifts back ever so slightly.

“But I think my favorite time is 9:00,” Stede says. He crooks his finger, pressing against the spot he knows will always drive Ed wild.

“FUCK!” Ed shouts. He’s abandoned Stede’s cock, but Stede can’t be troubled by that, not when this is his view. There’s nothing casual in Ed’s movements now. He thrusts back against Stede’s fingers, fucking himself on them, desperate to take him in. His head drops, and Stede thinks he may have lost his glasses — unfortunate, to be sure, but does make him feel a bit smug.

“Seems like it’s yours, too,” Stede comments absently.

“Fuck,” Ed gasps, pushind back hard. “I need… please…”

“You want me to fuck you?” Stede asks, still driving his fingers in and out of his entrance. “You want to feel my cock inside of you, splitting you open?”

“Yes,” Ed pleads. “Please, St— sir. Please fuck me. I want to show you how good I can be for you.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Stede says. He removes his fingers and quickly pulls the condom on, then squirts a bit more lube on it for good measure. “Come on, then.”

Ed shifts backwards, as though he’s planning to ride Stede just like that, but Stede grabs his arm and holds until Ed turns to face him.

“As much as I’ve enjoyed the front row seat to your delectable derriere,” he says, “I want to see you when I come. I want to see the face of history’s greatest hor—” he thrusts upwards so Ed can feel his erection against the curve of his ass “—ologist when he forgets all about how hands move on a clock, and instead thinks only of how long he can last on my cock.”

Ed draws a deep breath, then turns himself around so he’s facing Stede. Still straddling him, he moves up his body on his knees until his ass is directly over Stede’s dick.

“This is what you want?” Ed asks. He grips Stede’s erection with one gloved hand and inserts just the tip inside of him. As he slowly sinks down onto Stede’s cock, he bites his lower lip and lets out a low, breathy moan. “Want to fuck me just like this?”

“Just like this.” Stede grabs Ed’s hips, holds him steady there as he adjusts to the sensation of feeling him all hot and tight around him. “I trust a renowned clockmaker like yourself knows how to keep a steady rhythm?”

Something flashes in Ed’s eyes — something soft, tender, almost hesitant, and Stede is brought back to their last encounter, when Stede fucked him at the precise rate of 60 beats per minute, matching the cadence of a properly-behaved seconds hand. It’s strange, he thinks, to feel a bit sentimental about fucking a near stranger in his shop, but…

It’s not just a stranger.

And it’s not just a clockmaker, not the one who owns this shop, nor the one who probably wore a powdered wig and spent decades of his life trying to ensure sailors didn’t crash upon the rocks in exchange for a cash prize.

It’s Ed.

Stede reaches a hand up and gently cups the back of Ed’s head, then draws him down for a kiss.

It’s the first time they’ve kissed on the mouth today, Stede realizes. He’s not sure how that happened. Actually, yes, he does. They got waylaid by that hussy of a clock, then they stepped into these roles and played the part of a transactional affair so well they neglected the most intimate act they’ve shared together.

Which, again, feels strange to say given Ed just had his hole shoved directly in Stede’s face, but…

It’s Ed.

Stede deepens the kiss, pulling Ed in close to him. He takes the time to feel his sweat-slicked skin, runs his hands up and down his strong arms, feels every single inch of him, recommits it all to memory, never to be forgotten, not even when all the time in the universe runs out.

This is Ed, he tells himself. Ed. Ed. Ed.

Ed pulls back slightly, tilts his head at him, his gaze inquisitive.

I remember, Stede thinks, and caresses Ed’s cheek. I remember everything.

And somehow, he thinks Ed has heard his innermost thoughts, which of course shouldn’t surprise him at all at this point.

After all, it was just like Ed said the very first day they met:

He knows all his secrets.

Ed kisses him once more, light and quick, and gives Stede’s hand a reassuring squeeze. Then he raises himself back up and takes his cock in his hand.

“Oh, yes, sir,” Ed says. A mischievous spark glints in his eyes. “I think I can find one you’ll enjoy.”

Ed settles in on a slow, easy rhythm, one that seems less about getting Stede off and more about making him fucking savor having this gorgeous man riding his cock. It’s all Stede can do not to thrust wildly inside of him, urge him to go faster, to take him deeper, faster. Ed grinds against him, rocking his hips, all while fisting his cock in time to his movements.

Stede can’t take his eyes off him. Can’t look away from how Ed’s face twists in pleasure, how his lips part when he lets out the softest, sweetest sighs and moans. Can’t stop noticing how the light reflects off his sweat-slicked skin. Can’t tear his eyes off that gloved hand working his cock, can’t stop wondering what it would be like for him to shoot all over it, staining it with his hot, white come as he shouted Stede’s name.

“How’s that?” Ed asks. “You enjoy having your cock up my ass?”

“Fuck, yes,” Stede breathes. “Going to take you and your fancy clock out to sea. Gonna have you ride me as we ride the waves.”

Ed continues rocking his hips. It’s so steady, so annoyingly steady, like a damn pendulum when all Stede wants is the wildness of the ocean after a storm. His rhythm is relentless, just a hair slower than Stede would like, the sound of his ass slapping down against Stede’s skin keeping an obscene count of time.

“Just how good is your golden clock at determining our longitude?” Stede asks. It’s the most absurd sentence he’s ever uttered with his dick actively sliding in and inside of another person who’s writhing above him. But Ed only throws his head back, fists his cock, and moans louder than before.

“So good,” Ed groans. “So fucking good.”

“I’d like to test that,” Stede says. “I’ll fuck you against the mast of the ship. The entire crew will be gathered around, and you’ll be taking my cock, screaming my name, begging for more. They're all going to know how much you want this. How much you want me.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Ed chants.

“You’re going to want to come,” Stede says, gripping Ed’s hips hard. “You’re going to be so desperate for it. So hard it fucking aches. It’ll be all you can think about.”

Ed moans in agreement.

“And I’ll let you come,” Stede says. “I’ll let you come, and you’ll shoot all over your chest, and then I’ll lick it clean.”

“Yes, yes, please,” Ed whimpers.

Stede slams his hips upwards, and Ed shouts out a curse that feels less like a word and more like some deep, primal emotion hidden deep inside of him from another life, another time.

“If you can tell me the correct longitude,” Stede whispers.

“Fuuuuuuck.”

“Can you do it?” Stede asks. He begins thrusting upwards, so now he’s the one setting the rhythm, he’s the one in control, he’s the one steering this ship toward its inevitable climax. “Can your perfect clock tell me that?”

“I’m—”

“Go on,” Stede says. “You have to keep working that beautiful clock for me. You’re the one who told me how good you are at multitasking, aren’t you?”

Ed moans. His legs are trembling and sweat is dripping off his brow and onto Stede’s chest. Together they’re a hot, sticky mess, not even a wave, but a riptide. They could do so much together, Stede thinks. They could be so much together. “Tell me,” Stede demands. “Am I going to be able to let you come?”

“I don’t…” Ed’s voice trails off. He swallows a large gulp of air, like a drowning man emerging from the currents to catch his breath, and shakes his head. “I’m so—”

“So brilliant,” Stede says. “So fucking brilliant. Your clock is going to change the world.”

Ed shakes his head. “I can’t… I need...”

It’s then that Stede realizes it’s not just sweat glistening on Ed’s face, but damp tears staining his cheeks. His eyes are wet and filled with some emotion that Stede can’t yet identify.

One mark he can’t read.

“Your clock is going to change the world,” Stede repeats.

Ed squeezes his eyes shut. Tiny tears shine like pinprick pearls on his lashes.

“You’ve changed my world.” Stede reaches up, caresses Ed’s cheek. “Why shouldn’t your clock?”

Ed’s hand stills on his dick, and for a moment, Stede fears he’s gone too far. The lines have gotten so blurred. Who are they in this moment? Are they Ed and Stede, or the famous clockmaker whose name Stede has already forgotten and his lecherous would-be benefactor? Somehow, in all their play, they’ve unlocked something startling, terrifyingly real.

But they’re here now. Two interlocking gears, neither particularly shiny nor new and marked with a lifetime of stories and secrets, now clicking and spinning and ticking and tocking on and on and on. The key has been turned, and now they grind together, both marking time and a part of it, creating and existing, driving forward, the two of them forever linked.

“Hey,” Stede whispers. “Are you—”

Ed blinks, long and slow. A teardrop slides down from his lashes and onto his cheek.

And then he covers Stede’s hand with his own, pressing it against his face.

They stay there a long moment, glove on hand on jaw, both of their chests heaving. Stede’s whole body aches with it. It’s not enough to be buried inside of Ed. He wants to be consumed by him, to not only read the witness marks left behind by others on his skin and on his soul, but to be one himself. He wants to melt into metal gears of Ed’s heart, entwine himself with the coils of his mind, sink into the lignum vitae of his soul, until they’re not two parts working together, but one magnificent whole, keeping time, holding time, passing time.

Ed closes his eyes, draws a long, shuddering breath, and squeezes Stede’s hand. When he re-opens them, there’s a familiar spark of challenge alighting them, and he gives him a small nod.

“I’m wondering if my demonstration was up to par and if you’ll give me what I want.”

With one swift move, Stede flips them so he’s on top. Ed looks at him, eyes and mouth wide, as Stede thrusts inside of him, hard.

“You don’t care about the money, do you?” Stede asks. “You don’t even care about the glory. Not really.”

“I don’t—”

“You want me to tell you how brilliant you are,” Stede says, following a hunch. “How beautiful. How you’ve earned this.”

Ed groans. “Oh, fuck, yes, please.”

“Tell you what a good fucking horologist you are.” Stede’s pounding into him now, deeper and harder and faster. This is what he wants, what he’s been craving all night. To fucking feel Ed, to feel him all hot and tight around him, to watch as his hard cock slaps across his belly, to see him look thoroughly wrecked.

“My sweet, perfect slut,” Stede says. “You can take it all, can’t you? You’re used to that. And you’re so good at it.”

Ed digs his heels into the small of Stede’s back and pushes him forward, desperate to take him as deep as possible. Stede groans and shoves in deep. They are a machine, they are a fucking heartbeat, they are unstoppable.

“You know what I think?” Stede says. “I think you can do anything. Fucking anything.”

“Fuck,” Ed gasps. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“What do you want to do?” Stede asks. “Tell me. Tell me everything.”

“Fuck me,” Ed begs. “Please.”

“That’s what I’m going to do,” Stede says, emphasizing his point with another strong thrust into Ed. “I asked about you.”

“I want to make you come,” Ed says. “I want to see you lose all fucking control, and know it’s because of me. Because you’re fucking me.”

“Oh, fuck…” Stede groans.

“That’s it, fuck me.” Ed looks up at Stede with a smirk, and then clenches around him. “Sir.”

Fuck.

Stede has no thoughts anymore. He doesn’t know east or west, north or south, can’t say if it’s day or night or somewhere inbetween. Time could be spiraling out of control, blasting them back to the days of pirate ships at risk of crashing upon the rocks or future ones where they’re all shiny robots fucking each other with metal dicks that squeak and groan when they need lubricating.

All he can do is fucking feel as he pounds into Ed. Feel the way his body welcomes him, draws him in close, wrapping him in his heat. Feel his balls slap against Ed’s ass, feel his breath coming in sharp, almost painful gasps. Fees Ed’s fingers digging into his arms, the balls of his feet pressing into his back, his teeth sinking into his shoulder.

Feeling it all hot and sweet and sticky and it’s fucking his, oh, fuck, his.

Suddenly he’s tired of their games, tired of the acting. He just wants Ed, wants all of him, wants all the parts he’s known and touched and discovered and all the secrets he still keeps tucked away. He wants to open him up with his tongue until all that he is, who he really is, is splayed out in front of him like a decadent feast.

And Stede will fuck him, just like this, keep fucking him hard and deep and Ed will know him and fucking feel him. He’ll fucking take him and welcome him into his body and maybe even his soul, and it’ll be good, it’ll be so fucking good, just like this, just like…

“Ed!” Stede cries out. “Oh, fuck, my sweet, my perf—”

His words are cut off by Ed’s lips, hot and sweet and suddenly pressed against his. Stede kisses him like a man dying of thirst, draws him in as he fucks him hard, his hips snapping wildly, desperate for more, to fucking feel, to finally be a part of something so precious and real and to be able to call it his own.

“You gonna come for me, Stede?” Ed asks, his breath hot against Stede’s neck. “You gonna let me feel it?”

Stede squeezes his eyes shut. He’s so close, so fucking close, it wouldn’t take much more. He just…

Summoning all his strength, he pulls out and tugs the condom off his erection. Ed looks puzzled at first, but then comprehension dawns on his face, and he moves to his knees.

“That’s it,” Ed says. He takes Stede’s cock in one hand, his balls in the other. “You love these fucking gloves, don’t you? Couldn’t wait to shoot all over them. Couldn’t wait to leave your mark.”

“Fuck,” Stede whispers. “Ed. Ed. Oh, fuck.”

He’s beautiful, he’s perfect, and he’s stroking Stede’s cock with those stunning, talented hands that have brought both time and Stede to life. And it’s so fucking good, feeling this, knowing him, fucking—

“Come for me, Stede,” Ed says. “Come all over my nice, clean gloves. Make them fucking filthy. Make them yours.”

That’s all Stede needs. His orgasm rips through him and when he screams out Ed’s name, his throat is hoarse. He just barely manages to keep his eyes open to be able to see his come shoot onto Ed’s gloves, and, fuck, if Stede hadn’t only just had one of the most intense orgasms of his life, he might have come against just at that.

But instead he collapses in front of Ed and takes his cock in his mouth and sucks hard. There’s no finesse in it, it’s just sloppy and wet and saliva is spilling out over his lips and onto Ed’s dick. Ed is grabbing the back of his head and pushing him down, and it’s almost too much but Stede takes it all because too much of Ed Teach is an impossibility.

“Oh, fuck.” Ed’s voice is a low, velvety rasp. “Stede, fuck, I’m going to fucking come. Gonna shoot in your pretty fucking mouth.”

Stede moans, and then Ed moans, louder, and a second later he feels Ed’s hot come filling his mouth. He’s not able to swallow before Ed is pulling him toward him and crushing his lips against his. Stede parts his lips in surprise, and the remnants of Ed’s release spill back into his mouth. Ed makes a pleased sounding noise, something between a purr and a laugh, and deepens the kiss. Some of Ed’s come dribbles out from between their lips and onto their chins, and Stede lets out a contented sigh.

From Ed he came, and to Ed he shall return.

Stede caresses Ed’s face, feels the sweat and tears and spit and come staining it. Less permanent marks than the ones Ed had first trained him to read on the first day they met, but, Stede thinks, no less important. If anything, their ephemeral nature makes Stede more desperate to know all the secrets they hold lest they disappear the moment Ed steps into the shower and wipes clean all the evidence of the past hour.

The game they played had been enlightening in ways Stede couldn’t have predicted. But he doesn’t want their world to be a stage, doesn’t want Ed and him to be merely players. He wants to take what transpired between their characters and bring it forward into reality, to make it something that can’t be obfuscated by veils of fiction or play.

He wants to leave a mark, one that is clear, distinct, and all his own.

“They were an idiot,” Stede finally says, brushing back Ed’s hair.

Ed frowns. “Who?”

“Whoever fucked you over,” Stede says. “Whoever told you that your dreams weren’t practical.”

Ed raises an eyebrow. “You’re getting better at reading the witness marks.”

“I learned from the best,” Stede says with a shrug. “Does that mean I’m right? I just thought, all that talk about Harrison spending half his life working for something and never having a proper payoff, it seemed… personal.”

Ed scoffs and rips off his gloves. A sharp pang pierces Stede’s chest at seeing them so carelessly tossed aside, but this is about Ed now. Not Stede’s weird sentimental attachment to come-stained gloves.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Ed says. “Only it wasn’t a person.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Ed falls back into bed. “It was fucking time itself.”

He stretches out his arm, then wiggles his fingers at Stede. Grateful, Stede grabs hold, and allows himself to be pulled into Ed’s arms. He settles into his chest, soothed by the steady beating of his heart.

“I was going to make a name for myself,” Ed says. “I was going to open this shop, be the fucking best horologist around. And then once I had the name, and the capital, I was going to start my own line of watches. Really make something worth remembering.”

Stede blinks. “Wow. I didn’t know you had an interest in watches. Thought you only worked with clocks.”

“You’ve known me for a week,” Ed snorts. “You may be a natural at reading witness marks, but you’re not a fucking mindreader or some creepy dickfuck.”

Stede thinks about all the shops he tore apart in order to find more clocks to bring to Ed. Technically, in some senses of the word, some might say that was only a step or two removed from being a creepy dickfuck. But that’s not important right now.

“Anyway, I was going to make watches. Really nice watches. Not necessarily ones that cost a fortune, although some would. I just wanted to create beautiful watches, precise, handcrafted watches, for people who genuinely fucking love them. Not for rich assholes who go out and buy a fucking Rolex because it’s the only name they know and they want to show off to their other rich asshole neighbors. Just… people who appreciate how they work.”

“Well, that sounds wonderful,” Stede says. “What’s stopping you?”

“The ghost of Steve Jobs,” Ed snorts. “These days, everyone just wants a watch that reads your email, plays you music, tells you when to take a shit. They want a friendly little wrist robot. They don’t want a watch. There’s no fucking market.”

Stede frowns. “Surely there’s someone.”

“Not enough to cater to and also keep the shop alive,” Ed says. “I can’t sell five watches a year and make a living, at least not without raising my prices so high the only people who could afford them would be those same Rolex jackasses. And I can’t run the shop and still have time to make the watches I want. Izzy’s fine at the basics, but he can’t handle the complex work that keeps the revenue coming in.”

Stede drums his fingers across Ed’s chest. “Well, I meant what I said earlier.”

“What’s that?”

“That you’re beautiful,” Stede says, and kisses Ed’s cheek. “And brilliant.” A kiss to his temple. “And you can do anything.” He tucks his forefinger under Ed’s chin and draws him into a kiss. It’s soft and sweet and so different from any they’ve shared, and Stede wants a thousand more. To start.

“You’re a fucking nut,” Ed chuckles.

“Maybe,” Stede agrees. He pauses. “Ed, I know it’s not enough for a business, but… if I were interested in a watch… would you…”

“I don’t need a fucking pity commission,” Ed snaps. “Shit, Stede.”

“It wouldn’t be a pity commission,” Stede insists. “I had been thinking it might be nice to have something to remind me of you when we’re not together. A watch would be perfect, don’t you think?”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Stede regrets them. What the hell is he thinking? He sounds like a lovestruck teenager asking for a lock of his crush’s hair to keep in a heart-shaped locket. They barely know each other, and most of what they do know of each other came from fucking.

But then a slow smile spreads across Ed’s face. “I guess it’s a bit early to have a tattoo of my name in a heart on your arm.”

Stede laughs. “Maybe one day.”

“Maybe,” Ed echoes. He looks over at Stede, amusement on his face. “You know, you didn’t need to scrounge up all those clocks just to have an excuse to see me. You could’ve stopped by the shop whenever. Or just asked for my number.”

Stede’s cheeks burn. “I wasn’t sure you’d be interested in me. Without my… clocks. And besides, you seemed fascinated by that one.”

“Well, yeah.” Ed laughs. “Because it’s actually insane that you have something that priceless in your possession, let alone that you were lugging it around in a giant plastic bin in an effort to seduce me.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“Stede, you’re the most interesting fucker I’ve met in my entire life,” Ed says. “Clock or no clock.”

Stede smiles. So maybe he does feel a bit like a teenager with a crush, but it’s in a good way. All the excitement and butterflies and hope that comes with young love… except now it also comes with absolutely spine-tingling, soul-ascending sex.

“If that’s the case,” he asks, “could I possibly interest you in dinner sometime? So I can test your theory and see if my charms still work on you outside of the shop?”

Ed smiles, and it spreads all the way to his eyes. The skin by them crinkles adorably, and it takes all of Stede’s willpower not to kiss them. “Thought you’d never ask.”

“Well, then,” Stede says, not really sure where to go from here. “Good.”

“Good,” Ed repeats. He stretches out an arm and grabs the sadly abandoned gloves. “You want these?”

“Yes, I would,” Stede says quickly.

“Kinky little shit.” Ed’s grin somehow spreads even wider, and he drops the gloves on the nightstand. He pushes himself out of bed and stretches his arms. “Just don’t forget them when you leave.”

“Ah, yes,” Stede says, suddenly awkward. Is that his cue to get dressed and head out? He doesn’t want to wear out his welcome, but he’s also not particularly inclined to leave just yet.

“I need a shower,” Ed says, scratching his belly. “Bit of a mess. Want to join me? Maybe… make a few new marks to make up for the ones we have to wash away?”

Stede grins and swings his legs over the side of the bed. “I’d love that.”

He hurries over to Ed, who’s waiting for him, arms open, for a kiss. Stede leans into the embrace, feels Ed’s body warm and solid and real wrapped around him, and holds him close.

Screw the 200-year-old clocks, the Rolexes, even the fucking Apple watches.

As far as Stede’s concerned, he’s the one who possesses the luxury of time.