Work Text:
The first thought Ed has when he wakes up is “safe.” It’s unfamiliar. If he’s honest with himself, he can’t remember the last time he woke up feeling anything but crushing despair. Blackbeard, as a rule, doesn’t share his bed. Blackbeard doesn’t have lovers who treat him gently and stay the night sleeping in his arms. No, Blackbeard has conquests. Sloppy ones who assume what he likes because he wears leather and decorates his cabin with cool skulls and then leave him alone once they both get what they want.
Not Stede. Waking up with Stede - after Stede - feels warm. Comfortable. Safe.
Ed props himself up on an elbow and looks down at Stede, sound asleep on his back. He’s so beautiful in the golden, early-morning light. Ed takes a moment to simply drink him in. He brushes the hair back from Stede’s forehead and gently trails his fingers down Stede’s cheek. Ed lets his touch linger, his fingers dancing from Stede’s jaw, down his neck, to his chest and the wound left there by that bastard Ned Low.
Thoughts of Ned Low take Ed back to the night before, to the moment Stede retreated to his quarters. Ed had been so worried about him. Had followed him to offer comfort, completely innocent, honest! Stede apparently had other plans…
***
It starts the way these things always do. Hands clutching at his leathers, his back slamming against the wall, an urgent fire coiling low in his stomach. Except this time he isn’t drunk, and this isn’t some nameless fuck who will slip out before the sun rises. This is Stede – who’d crossed oceans for him and fought for him and now killed for him – looking up at him with wide, desperate eyes and lips parted in a silent question.
Ed tightens his grip on Stede’s shoulders, curling his fingers into the soft teal fabric. He’s here. Stede’s here, and he’s hurting, and Ed is exhausted and he can feel his pulse thrumming in the wound on his chest and they nearly lost each other again tonight.
So Ed thinks, okay. Tonight they can blow off steam, tomorrow they can slow right back down. Tonight he can make sure Stede knows it’s all okay. With a minuscule nod from Ed, they fall into each other, Ed kissing him with all the gasping, needy passion he’s been dreaming of all these months, and he lets himself be pushed back toward Stede’s bed.
There’s an explosion of color from the porthole as Ed falls back into the sheets. A burst of purple and pink that outshines the flickering candlelight in the cabin. Stede is damn near ripping the shirt off his body, and Ed knows this is the part where he should be shedding his own clothes but instead, he lets himself just look at the man before him. He’d spent countless nights imagining this moment through a haze of tears and rum, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the broad expanse of Stede’s chest, the curve of his arms, the wisps of blond hair trailing down his chest and disappearing beneath the waistline of his trousers.
Ed’s already breathless, anticipation burning hot in his veins, but when Stede turns his back to whisk the black curtain shut, Ed feels sweat prickling on his palms. He doesn’t get nervous before hookups, he’s the fucking master of shutting off his brain and letting his body do all the hard work. But none of those people knew how to make him the perfect cup of tea, or had held him when he cried about his deadbeat dad, or liked breathing the same fucking air as him. Ed curls his hands into the sheets, shuffling up on the bed, willing his mind to stop spinning in circles. He can’t let his fucking feelings get in the way of whatever is about to happen. Stede needs him to be here, Stede needs him to be steady and solid and sure. Not panicking. Not spiraling. Not fucking scared.
Stede’s turning back to him just as another round of fireworks explodes outside, and shit, this is it. This is the moment. He can do this. He can do anything. He can be the person Stede needs him to be right now.
But then Stede freezes.
Something shifts in his expression, his earlier urgency ebbing into something…softer. Ed knows this face. He’s seen it beneath the moonlight when Stede's fingers had danced lightly over his chest as he tucked a piece of red silk into Ed’s front pocket. But there’s no fine fabric for Stede to fancy now. There’s just Ed – messy, broken, terrified Ed – looking up at him from his bed.
“Oh Ed,” Stede breathes, sounding utterly awestruck. “You’re so beautiful.”
Stede kneels next to him on the bed, cradles Ed’s face in his hands. A light gasp falls from Ed’s lips before he can stop it. The feeling of Stede’s elegant fingers softly grazing the roughness of his beard makes something tighten in the dark, aching part of his chest he thought had been beaten out of him with that cannonball. Because what right does he have to be called beautiful? After what he’s done to Stede, to their friends, to himself, how could there be anything about him left to possibly be beautiful? He risks a glance at the burn mark on Stede’s chest, blooming purple and red just below his collarbone. It’ll heal, but it’ll ache, and it’ll scar, and it’s Ed’s fault, it’s Ed’s-
One hand slips around the back of Ed’s head, curling delicately around the red hibiscus Ed had tucked into his hair just minutes before everything had fallen apart. Ed doesn’t dare move, doesn’t dare breathe, for fear of shattering whatever this is. Ever so delicately, Stede untangles the flower from Ed’s locks and lays it on the window sill.
Ed can’t help the shaky exhale that escapes his lips when Stede meets his eyes again.
Stede leans in slowly and kisses Ed again, so gently. Ed’s prevailing thought as Stede’s hands return to his face and creep back to tangle in his hair is that he’s never been handled so softly before. Not like he’s fragile, but like he’s precious. It’s an arresting thought - that someone like Stede cares about him enough to treat him like he’s something that should be cherished. That Ed is worth taking care of. When Stede trails his hands down Ed’s shoulders and chest, toying with the hem of his shirt, Ed breaks the kiss and raises his arms, letting Stede pull it over his head. And there Stede goes with the fucking eyes again, that look like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Ed’s instinct is to flinch under a gaze like that, to look away, to deflect. Stede’s fingers at his chin bring Ed back to the moment.
“Hey,” Stede whispers, ducking his head to meet Ed’s gaze, “I mean it, Edward. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”
“Can’t just say shit like that, Stede.” Deflect, deflect, deflect. Don’t let him realize he doesn’t mean it.
“What, the truth?” Stede responds with a giggle. “You are gorgeous,” Stede brushes his lips to Ed’s, “Stunning,” kisses Ed’s jaw, “Radiant,” Ed’s neck, “A vision I am honored to behold.”
Ed’s breath leaves him in a gasp as Stede’s lips meet his collarbone, his hands trailing down Ed’s sides and to the front of Ed’s pants. The cabin lights up in another wash of purple light as Stede raises his eyes to Ed’s and starts to undo the buttons. They’re both breathing heavily as Stede pulls Ed’s trousers down, tugging them off his feet before standing to remove his own.
Ed drinks Stede in as the fireworks continue to throw shades of pink, purple, and orange into the room. It feels otherworldly, like a dream, seeing Stede naked in front of him, washed in color and looking at Ed like he isn’t some colossal fuck-up who almost killed every person Stede loves and basically wrecked Stede’s ship and got Stede stabbed with a red-hot poker. Stede’s looking at him with so much love in his eyes, Ed’s not sure what to do with it. This isn’t how this is supposed to go; this isn’t how this has ever gone before. And then suddenly Stede’s back on the bed, stretched out on top of Ed, kissing him hungrily but with a tenderness Ed can’t let himself accept. At the first brush of their cocks, Stede whines and Ed thinks Finally. He can do this part. He can be here for Stede, he can turn his brain off and make Stede feel good and not confront this thing that’s threatening to claw its way out of his chest. He reaches down, wraps a hand around them both and strokes, and Stede breaks their kiss to rest his forehead against Ed’s.
“Ed.” Stede’s voice is ragged, and Ed preens a little knowing that he’s the one making Stede feel this way. “Ed, love, I want-”
Ed tilts his head and captures Stede’s lips quickly. “Tell me, Stede.”
“I want to make you feel good, Ed. I want to-” Stede cuts himself off with a curse as Ed continues to stroke. “I want to make love to you, Edward, please. Would you let me?”
Ed almost stops short. This can’t be fucking real. Ned Low knocked him out or something and he’s dreaming because there’s no universe in which Stede Bonnet just asked ( asked! ) to make love to Ed. People don’t make love to Ed. They fuck, and it’s quick and a little harsh and they leave right after. They certainly don’t wait for Ed to nod before reluctantly sitting up with a kiss to Ed’s lips and removing their rings to line them up next to the bed just so. They don’t pull out a tiny gilded box of some kind of fancy oil and coat their fingers before opening Ed up so gently he thinks he will actually cry this time.
But then Stede’s lining himself up and sliding home and Ed has to squeeze his eyes shut against the wave of emotions cresting over him. Stede starts to move - again so damn gently - and Ed risks opening his eyes. And there he is, looking down at Ed with an awestruck expression.
“Ed, I…” Stede’s voice breaks and he drops his head, “I didn’t think it could be like this.”
“Me neither,” Ed responds, almost whines.
Stede catches Ed’s lips in another kiss, his hips still as the kiss breaks. Ed keeps his eyes on Stede’s face, the overwhelmed look in his eye as they breathe together.
“I never thought…”
“I know,” Ed says, bringing one hand up to cup Stede’s cheek, his thumb catching a tear as it makes its way down Stede’s face. “I know. I’ve got you.”
Stede smiles at this, another burst of fireworks lighting the cabin. He mirrors Ed, his fingers tracing Ed’s cheekbone. “I’ve got you.”
And then he’s moving again and kissing Ed for all he’s worth, swallowing Ed’s moans as he drives them both closer to the end.
“ Stede. ” Ed hardly recognizes the voice that bursts from his lungs as the white-hot heat curls impossibly tight within him. It’s high and breathy and desperate and he doesn’t fucking care. “Don’t stop. Don’t let go.”
“I’m here love. I’m right here.”
It’s not much longer before they both reach their peak, gasping into each other’s mouths, fingers tangled in each other’s hair. Ed’s glad the fireworks seem to have ended because he can’t control the tears as he comes down from his climax. The tears keep coming while Stede holds him in the afterglow, shedding a few tears himself. They comfort each other, hands running over skin, soft and gentle. It’s all so soft and gentle and foreign. When Stede gets up to get a cloth to clean them up, Ed doesn’t wonder for a second if he’ll come back. And when Stede runs the towel over Ed, too, Ed has to take a few deep breaths to avoid crying all over again. It’s never been like this, probably never will be again. Once in a lifetime; hell, once in several lifetimes, probably.
Stede settles in next to Ed, and Ed wraps himself around the solid warmth of him, nestles his head against Stede’s chest. His last thought before sleep takes him is how foolish he must have been to try and fight against whatever magic it is between him and Stede.
***
Lying here in the light of the morning after, Ed runs his hand over Stede’s hair — softer than silk, softer than cashmere — just because he can.
Warmth, he’d told Hornigold. Warmth was something worth living for. If he’d known then how warm he would feel with Stede Bonnet in bed with him, he never would have been in the Gravy Basket in the first place.
Ed lets his other hand wander gingerly over the twin burn mark on his own chest. It's still tender, but the sting is already less intense than it was last night, and he hopes Stede’s pain will start to ebb today as well. His gaze drifts over Stede’s body, to the line of rings and the hibiscus flower still on the window sill. So much care. So much kindness. So much Ed has never dared let himself want, right at his fingertips.
What happens now? Ed wonders. What does he do with all of this gentleness?
He knows what Blackbeard does of course. Blackbeard peels himself out of filthy sheets and pours himself back in the leathers that form his body into something acceptable. Blackbeard goes on with his day, silently seething, hating himself for hoping things would be different.
But what does Ed do the morning after the love of his life turned the world on its axis?
The last time he did what Ed wanted, he wrapped himself in the softness of a pink, flowery bathrobe that still smelled like lavender and sea salt. That robe is at the bottom of the ocean now, but there was one thing he couldn’t bear to throw overboard when the Kraken re-emerged. Just a little piece of softness to keep the wound of all he’d lost open and exposed.
Maybe it’s time he pulled that robe out of the closet. Maybe he can wrap himself up in that softness. Maybe leather never has to touch his skin again. Maybe scars don’t have to burn forever. Maybe he can get his stubborn mouth to say those three terrifying words that have been trying to claw their way out of his chest since Stede came crashing back into his life. Maybe…
Stede shifts next to him, brow furrowing as he whimpers softly, like he’s been pulled toward consciousness against his will. Ed doesn’t think, doesn’t even hesitate, to run a soothing hand over his arm.
“Shhh, it’s alright,” Ed hushes, and Stede’s pinched expression eases back into relaxation at once. “Go back to sleep, ‘m here.”
Stede curls right up into Ed’s side, tucking his head onto Ed’s shoulder like he was made to fit in the empty space. He lets out a content little sigh, and Ed watches, awestruck, as his breathing settles back into an easy rhythm of sleep.
Maybe he can stay right here for five more minutes.
Ed presses a kiss into the top of Stede’s head, and drifts back to sleep with a smile on his face.