It is perhaps the most unusual arranged marriage Stede has ever heard of.
He had always expected to be married off, of course, probably to some young lady whose family could be strategically joined with his for wealth or power or acreage. Or all of the above.
But he had not expected to be wed to a pirate, much less Blackbeard himself.
The whole thing had been the king’s idea, and there was no arguing with the king. Well, not when you were Stede Bonnet, anyway. He supposed a man like Blackbeard had little respect for royal authority. The king had actually proposed that a suitable young lady be chosen as the dread pirate’s bride, as a peace offering sealing the British gentry to the rough-and-tumble pirates who sailed the Caribbean. But Blackbeard had sent word back: it had to be a gentleman, or no one at all.
This had caused quite a bit of kerfuffle among the lords involved in the deal. After all, such a thing was unheard of! Two men marrying. It was preposterous!
In the end, it was decided that if the right sort of gentlemen could be identified, one who might be interested in that sort of thing , perhaps the scheme might not be lost after all.
The man who was identified was Stede.
And now here he is, about to board a pirate ship. Not just any pirate ship, but the ship of Blackbeard, the greatest pirate captain the world has ever known. And Stede is going to be his husband.
He swallows. Nothing else for it, then. He puts one foot in front of the other and walks up the gangplank to the deck of Blackbeard’s ship.
On board are a group of the roughest-looking men Stede has ever seen. He tries to flash a winning smile.
“Hello, gents!” he calls. “I’m Stede Bonnet. Lovely to meet you.”
One of them, a small, unpleasant-looking man dressed in leather, stalks over to him.
“We know who you are, Stede Bonnet.” The man practically spits Stede’s name back at him. “You’re a fancy boy prick, is what you are, and you’ll be lucky if none of us throw you overboard before the week is out.”
“Well, I’m not sure Blackbeard would approve of that, would he?” Would he? Stede tries not to think about it. “Speaking of whom, where is the man? I’d like to—well, I’d like to meet him.”
“In his quarters,” the small man snarls. “He’ll be out when he’s ready.”
“That’d best be soon,” says a uniformed British naval officer to Stede’s right. Stede starts, not having noticed the man’s approach. “The king will be looking to review the marriage contract himself, so it’s best we send it off as soon as possible.”
“He’ll be out when he’s ready,” the small man repeats, something dark and intimidating crossing his expression.
Just when Stede begins to worry things are going to escalate between the two men, the door to the captain’s quarters bursts open. Out walks a man with wild salt-and-pepper hair and a long beard to match, clad head-to-toe in leather and covered, on those few parts of his warm brown skin that were visible, with a variety of tattoos.
“Now, now, Izzy,” he says, his tone soft but with something menacing lurking underneath. “We can’t be disrespecting our guests, can we?”
His eyes meet Stede’s and oh . Suddenly Stede feels weak in the knees, that intense stare doing something to him that he can’t quite describe. The man’s eyes run up and down Stede’s body, and it’s all he can do not to let out a squeak.
“Stede Bonnet, I presume?”
“You’ve heard of me?” Now what kind of a thing to say is that? Everyone on the ship had heard of him, clearly, and they didn’t seem to like him very much.
“I’ve heard all about you,” the man says, a slow smile rising up his lips. “You’re to be my husband, so I hear.”
Oh. Oh. Stede can’t believe how slow he was on the uptake. Of course this is Blackbeard, the man he is to marry for crown and country. No wonder he’s the most feared pirate on the seven seas. He cuts an impressive figure.
“Let’s get this over with, then,” Blackbeard says, and he snaps his fingers. A small table is produced from somewhere, along with a bottle of ink and a quill pen. The naval officer places a sheet of paper—their marriage contract, Stede thinks with a gulp—on the table. “After you,” says Blackbeard, gesturing to Stede, and this is it.
Stede steps forward and signs his name with a flourish.
Blackbeard follows him, and Stede notes that he makes only a simple x on the paper. It had never occurred to him that the mighty Blackbeard might not be able to read and write. He must know the terms of the contract, though, or surely he wouldn’t have signed it so willingly. Stede swallows, remembering one particular section that made him break out into a cold sweat.
“Well, that’s that, then,” Blackbeard says, and one of his men hands off the contract to the naval officer. Blackbeard himself strides off toward his quarters before stopping and turning around. “Come on,” he says to Stede, beckoning, and Stede must go absolutely red all over, but he does as he’s told and walks over to the man—to his husband —as bidden. Stede is vaguely aware of the British officer leaving, of the men around him preparing the ship to leave shore. This is his life now. Blackbeard’s husband.
He follows Blackbeard into his quarters, and the door shuts behind him.
Stede had expected he’d have until nightfall at least before Blackbeard took him to his bed. But pirates weren’t like gentle folk, were they? Perhaps they simply consummated marriages at any old time of day. Stede’s heart is pounding in his throat as Blackbeard sits down at the edge of a wide bed and starts to remove his boots.
Okay, all right, he tells himself. You can do this. You must do this. It’s your duty.
The thought does not calm his racing heart.
To his surprise, Blackbeard undresses no further, instead swinging his legs atop the bed and adopting a relaxed posture, palms behind his head. Stede doesn’t move.
“Well, have a seat,” Blackbeard says, gesturing at a chair behind a desk.
“You don’t…want me next to you?” Stede asks tentatively.
“Sure, if you want.” He slides over on the bed, making room for Stede to sit beside him. Stede gulps and sits down, crossing his legs in front of him, unable to be so calm as Blackbeard about all this. He supposes it’s nothing much to Blackbeard, who’s surely had many conquests. Stede would be just another notch in his bedpost. Stede, on the other hand, had never so much as kissed anyone, much less anyone as intimidating as the man next to him, and he’s awfully nervous. After all, they’ve only just met.
“So,” Ed says. “Stede Bonnet. Welcome aboard my ship.”
Stede’s breeding kicks in and he responds, politely, “Honored to be here.”
“What do you like to do for fun, Stede?”
Stede blinks. Is this a trick question? Is he supposed to respond with something coy? He can’t imagine what. The silence starts to stretch, Blackbeard’s eyes on him expectantly, and he blurts, “I like to read!”
Well, that was very seductive of him. Well done, Stede, that’ll impress the pirate captain. Blackbeard’s eyes find his.
“Hm. Never did learn to read myself. But I suppose we can find you some books to keep on the ship. Keep yourself occupied.”
“That would be lovely, thank you.” What on Earth is he playing at? Surely this is not the usual type of talk one hears before…before marital relations.
“You all right, mate?” Blackbeard says. “You’re shaking.”
Stede looks down. His hands are indeed shaking where they rest on top of his knees.
“Can’t you just get it over with already?” he blurts out. Apparently blurting is his thing today.
Blackbeard blinks, looking almost confused. “How d’you mean?”
“This! The…consummating!” Stede feels his face go red just from naming it.
“Consumm—is that what you think this is?” Blackbeard leans forward, arms resting on his knees.
“What else would it be?” Stede stares at his own feet, still clad in their white leather shoes, and feels helpless.
“I was just trying to get to know you,” Blackbeard says. “Christ, I wasn’t trying to—to start anything.”
“You weren’t?” Stede turns his head, and he’s looking Blackbeard in the eye again.
“‘Course not. Not unless…you wanted to?”
“No! I mean.” Oh dear, that was entirely the wrong thing to say, wasn’t it? “Not that I don’t—-I just mean—well I’ve never—never done that before.” He must be the color of a tomato right about now, if the heat in his cheeks is any indication.
“Never?” Blackbeard asks, sounding incredulous.
“Well, no,” Stede says. “No one was ever…interested.”
“Well, they’re all fucking idiots because you’re gorgeous, mate.”
Stede didn’t think it was possible for his face to flush anymore, and yet.
“But,” Blackbeard continues, “we won’t do anything you don’t want to. All right?”
“But,” Stede protests. “But the contract says we’re to consummate within a fortnight.”
“Bugger the contract,” Blackbeard says.
“What do you mean?” Stede says, eyes wide with shock. “That’s legally binding!”
“Right, and who exactly is going to enforce it? The king himself going to come watch us fuck just to prove we’ve done it? Nah. Anyone asks, we bloody well consummated.”
“But you don’t—” Stede starts, unsure why he’s still protesting, “you don’t expect me to…?”
“Put out? Nah. Not unless you want to.”
Stede feels almost as if he’s in shock. Here he was, bracing himself to be ravished against his will by the mighty Blackbeard and instead…instead he’s been flattered and given options.
“Not…just now, thanks,” Stede says in the most dignified voice he can manage.
“All right. Just let me know if you ever change your mind.” Blackbeard leans back on the bed into his relaxed position, letting his eyes flutter shut.
“Thank you, Blackbeard,” Stede says softly.
“Call me Ed,” he replies.
“Ed, then. Thank you, Ed.”
“What for?”
“For not—for not making me.”
Ed’s eyes open at that. “You don’t have to thank me for not raping you, Stede. Look, I know you didn’t choose this, but I want you to be happy here, if you can. We’ll get you some books. Anything else you like, as well. Just don’t work yourself into knots, all right?”
“All right,” Stede agrees.
“Now. What’s your favorite color?”
The rest of the afternoon passes easily, Ed lazily asking Stede questions and Stede giving the most honest responses he can. He tells Ed about his favorite books, his favorite foods, his favorite music. He learns things about Ed, too, like the fact that he takes his tea with an astonishing seven sugars and that he has no idea how to waltz.
“Not at all?” Stede asks, mouth slightly agape at the revelation. “How is that possible?”
Ed shrugs. “Not exactly something they teach servant boys. Or pirates.”
Ed had been a servant. Another fact for Stede to file away in his growing list of facts about his new husband.
“Well, I must teach you sometime,” Stede declares. “It won’t do for the husband of a gentleman to be unable to waltz.”
“The husband of a gentleman, eh? Is that what I am now?”
“Well, sure. Just as much as I’m the husband of a pirate.”
“Never thought about it like that,” Ed says, brow furrowing. “But I suppose you’re right.”
“We’ll teach each other,” Stede says. “I’ll teach you the ways of the aristocracy, and you can teach me the ways of pirating.”
“It’s a deal,” Ed says with a smile, and he holds out a hand. Stede shakes it, firmly as his father taught him to. It’s the first time he and Ed have touched, he realizes, and he tries not to blush at the feeling of rough, callused skin and smooth leather against his bare palms.
“Now,” Ed says, glancing out the window. “Looks like it’s about time for bed.”
Oh, dear. Stede is suddenly seized by a whole new round of anxieties. Is he supposed to sleep here, with Ed? Should he change into his nightclothes? Should he change into his nightclothes in front of Ed?
“I usually sleep naked,” Ed says, and Stede’s stomach flips. “But I can stay dressed if you’d rather.”
“You don’t have some kind of nightclothes?” Stede asks, genuinely curious.
“Never bothered with ‘em.”
“Oh, but I have some lovely nightshirts. Soft and silky. You must try one on.” What is he saying? He’s offering Blackbeard —well, Ed anyway—one of his silly little nightshirts, as though the man is going to take an interest in that.
“Sure,” Ed says, and there’s nothing Stede can do but rush over to where his things are packed neatly away in several trunks. He rustles around for a bit, feeling Ed’s eyes on him, and then he finds what he’s looking for.
“Aha!” he says triumphantly. “So this one is my personal favorite, but this one is a lovely silk that I think you’ll really enjoy.” Really, he has no business announcing what the other man would like or dislike about anything, but the words keep falling out of his mouth without, seemingly, any input at all from his brain. “Here, touch,” he says, offering the garment to Ed.
Ed takes it and runs it softly along the skin of his face where it’s exposed just under his eyes. “That’s nice,” he says, to Stede’s great surprise. “I’d like to try it on.” He reaches for the buckles of his jacket, and Stede whirls around to face the other direction, embarrassed to watch the other man change.
“‘S all right. You can look now,” Ed says with a smile in his voice. Stede turns around and oh . There Ed stands in Stede’s nightshirt, looking soft and warm and absolutely radiant. Stede thinks he’ll melt into a puddle just from looking at him.
“How do you like it, then?” Stede asks, and Ed grins.
“It’s fucking fantastic. Do you mind if I keep this?”
“Not at all,” Stede says and surprises himself by meaning it. “Do you mind, um,” he tries not to stumble over his words and fails, “looking the other way? While I change?” Has his voice always been so high-pitched?
“Sure thing,” Ed says, still admiring the fabric of his own nightshirt. He turns to face the bed, and Stede shuffles out of his day clothes and into his nightshirt as quickly as he possibly can, not wanting to be exposed for any longer than he has to be. Funny, he thought, he never imagined feeling shy about his body around Blackbeard. He’d assumed that everything would be on the table, so to speak, after their first night together, but now here he is, watching the dread pirate face the other way at his request, all because he’s feeling embarrassed about showing off his naked body.
“All right, I’m done,” Stede says softly, and Ed turns back around.
“Left side or right?”
“What?”
“Of the bed. Do you prefer the left side or the right?”
“Oh, I—I never really thought about it before. Never shared a bed, you see.”
“Well, I like the right,” Ed says. “So why don’t you give the left a try and see what you think.”
Stede crosses the room slowly before pulling back the sheets on the left side of Blackbeard’s bed and climbing in. Ed’s doing the same on the other side, and Stede’s breath is coming too fast again, his heart pumping too hard.
“All right?” Ed asks, looking at him.
“Never better!” Stede squeaks.
“We don’t—shit, if you’d prefer I sleep with the crew—”
“No,” Stede says, sharper than he intended. “I’m your husband. I should sleep in your bed.”
“Our bed now, I s’pose,” Ed says, and then he extinguishes the last candle, leaving the two of them in darkness, bodies inches apart in the softness of the bed.
“I suppose so,” Stede agrees. He readjusts himself, trying to get comfortable. Ed, he notices, is lying very still.
“I really can go sleep with the crew if you’d rather,” he says. “I shouldn’t have presumed—”
“It’s fine,” Stede says, as much to himself as to Ed. “I’ll be fine.”
“All right,” Ed says. “G’night, then.”
“Good night, Ed.”
It takes Stede an unusually long time to fall asleep, but once he does, he sleeps surprisingly well considering the unfamiliar bed, the unfamiliar sea rocking the ship beneath him, and the unfamiliar man lying by his side.
Stede wakes up before Ed, and he decides he ought to bring his husband breakfast in bed. That’s something married couples do, isn’t it? Stede throws on his dressing gown and walks as quietly as he can manage out onto the deck of the ship. He hasn’t the faintest idea where the kitchens are, an unanticipated wrinkle in his plan. Well, he’ll simply have to ask.
He spots the short, leather-clad man from yesterday and flashes him his most winning smile. “Good morning, uh—Iggy, was it?”
“Izzy,” the other man snarls.
“Right, sorry,” Stede says, resisting the impulse to take a step backward. “Would you be able to direct me to the kitchens, please?”
“What do you need?”
“Well, I was hoping to bring Ed some breakfast in bed.”
“You were—fucking hell. Blackbeard doesn’t do breakfast in bed.”
“Why not? It’s lovely.”
“Because Blackbeard is not lovely ,” Izzy snarls, “He is the terror of the seven seas, the greatest pirate who ever lived.”
“He seemed awfully friendly last night,” Stede says and immediately flushes at the implication he’s accidentally made.
Izzy notices the flush and smirks. “Oh, was he? Well, I suppose that changes everything, doesn’t it, slut?”
Stede blinks. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, leave him alone, Izzy,” comes a voice from behind Stede. An impressively large man appears, stepping between them. “Poor bloke’s just gone from ballrooms to Blackbeard’s ship. Least you can do is show him to the kitchens. Here,” he says, turning to Stede, “come with me.”
The large man, who introduces himself as Fang, shows Stede to the kitchens, where he’s horrified to learn that the selection of breakfast pastries is nonexistent. Instead, the cook offers him hardtack and an orange.
“Could I get a spot of tea, at least? Splash of cream, plenty of sugar?”
The cook obliges, although the tea looks like something that might have been scraped out of the back of the storeroom and burned for kindling at Stede’s old home. Still, he finds himself carrying a tray with breakfast foods, imperfect as they are, back to Blackbeard’s quarters.
He opens the door to find Ed’s already up, changed back into his regular clothes and leaning over something on his desk.
“Oh,” he says aloud without intending to, and Ed looks up.
“Thought you’d walked out on me,” Ed says. “Fled in terror in the middle of the night or something.”
“Oh, no, of course not. I just thought, well.” It seems silly now, this idea of bringing Ed breakfast in bed. Especially as he is no longer in said bed. And is a pirate captain, and has better things to do than eat the lackluster breakfast his husband brought him in an ill-conceived gesture of goodwill.
“Is that tea?” Ed asks, noticing the tray in Stede’s hands.
“Oh, um, yes. Yours has a splash of milk and seven sugars. Just like you said you liked.”
“Mine? You brought all this for me?”
“Well, I thought we could have breakfast in bed. Except, obviously, you’re no longer in bed, so—”
Something strange is filling Ed’s eyes now, something Stede can’t quite put a name to. “You wanted to do that…for me?”
“Well, sure. I thought you might like it.”
“Never had breakfast in bed before,” Ed says, looking thoughtful. “S’pose we can still do it. I’ll just have to get back in bed.” He stands up and crosses the room, climbing into bed with his boots still on. “Come on, then,” he says, patting the bed beside him.
Stede carefully carries the tray over. “It’s not exactly what I was hoping for,” he admits. “I thought I’d bring you a few sweet treats, some pastries, maybe marmalade. But this was all they had in the kitchen.”
“Hm, next port I’ll set you loose on a patisserie. Won’t do to have my husband unhappy with our selection of breakfast foods, now will it?”
Stede doesn’t know what to say to that, so he drinks some tea.
And almost spits it back out again.
“Eugh!” he exclaims, “That’s awful!”
“Sorry, mate, not many of the crew drink tea,” Ed says, looking like he’s trying not to laugh at Stede. “We’ll add that to your list of things to get at port as well.”
“We’d better! I don’t think I could live with such abysmal tea service for very long.”
They eat their breakfast in silence, fingers brushing once or twice as they both reach for the same thing. Stede tries to pretend he doesn’t notice the contact.
“I think I like this breakfast in bed thing,” Ed says when they’re finished, except for Stede’s tea, which remains untouched. “Long as I’ve got you to share it with, of course.”
“Of course,” Stede says, and he feels a blush start to form on his cheeks.
When they do make port next, Ed barks out orders to the men, assigning each of them errands and tasks that needed to be completed by nightfall— or else , Blackbeard’s words always seem to imply. Stede expects Ed to head out on some similarly important business, but instead he offers his arm to Stede.
“Thought I’d come with you to get all those fancy things you wanted.” Stede just nods and takes his husband’s arm, feeling a slight fluttering in his stomach at both the contact and the knowledge that this was the first time he would be seen in public as Blackbeard’s husband, on his arm like a proper spouse. He’s anxious at the thought of being on display but eager to get to shopping; that ship needed plenty before it would be anywhere near Stede’s standards, and he did love shopping, after all.
They duck into shop after shop, first acquiring a fine selection of teas that, Stede assures Ed, are much nicer than that swill they have onboard at present. Next they stop by the promised patisserie and stock up on sweet, fragrant delicacies. Stede can’t decide which he wants Ed to try first, so he takes them all to go and promises Ed a sampling session later. They buy soft sheets and fine china and beard oil for Ed and a lavender-scented soap Ed describes as “yummy.”
“You know you don’t eat it, right?” Stede says, concerned about this comment. “Ed? It’s important to me that you know that you don’t eat it.”
They save the best stop of all for last: a quaint little bookshop, all brick walls and cozy corners. “Look at this,” Stede breathes over a copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets. “The binding’s beautiful. That’s a keeper.”
Ed follows him around dutifully, holding Stede’s pile of books as it gets taller and taller. Just when Stede thinks he’s finished, he spots one more title he absolutely can’t resist.
“Oh, Gulliver’s Travels !” he says. “Oh, Ed, I think you’ll love that one.”
Ed stiffens. “I can’t read, remember?” he says quietly, so no one else in the shop can hear him.
“No, I know, I was just thinking…well, maybe I could read to you?” Stede starts to blush—why is he always blushing around this man—and hopes against hope he hasn’t offended Ed.
“That sounds…nice, actually,” Ed says, and he takes the book from Stede and adds it to the pile.
They return to the ship laden with their purchases. Stede isn’t sure what to use first, if he should offer Ed a scone or brew a cup of proper tea or cuddle up under their soft new sheets. Ed makes the decision for him, though.
“Read to me?” he says, eyes wide and hopeful.
“Of course,” Stede says, grinning.
They settle together on the bed, Ed on the right and Stede on the left, as has become their pattern. Stede thought he had grabbed Gulliver’s Travels , but on closer inspection realized he’d grabbed the sonnets.
“Ah,” he says. “Right, took the wrong book.”
“Which one’s that?” Ed asks.
“These are poems. Uh, love poems.”
“Love poems, eh? Sounds hot.”
“They’re Shakespeare ,” Stede protests.
"So?”
“So! So they’re. They’re serious, Ed,” Stede says, but he can’t keep the laughter out of his voice.
“Read me one, then,” Ed says, and Stede swallows, opens to a page at random, and begins to read.
“What is your substance, whereof are you made, that millions of strange shadows on you tend?”
Sonnet 53, Stede realizes as he’s reading it, is one of the ones likely written to a male subject. Of course, of course that would be the sonnet he would land on by chance. Now here he is, reading love poetry about a man to a man, and as embarrassed as Stede is inclined to be, something about it sends a thrill through him, too. Ed is just the sort of man the poets might write about: handsome, intelligent, charismatic.
“External grace you have some part, but you like none, none you, for constant heart,” Stede finishes.
“Couldn’t make sense of any of that,” Ed says cheerfully. “But it sounded nice. Read me another?”
And so they pass the evening, Stede reading aloud and Ed listening raptly. At some point, Ed’s hand comes to rest on Stede’s knee, and the warmth of it seems to fill Stede from the inside out. He risks a glance at the place where Ed is touching him, and the sight of his palm against Stede’s breeches is lovelier than any poem, no offense to the Bard.
The following night, Stede finds himself on the deck of the ship facing Ed, the only light that of the moon and stars glittering above them.
“Right. So I’m going to lead. You’ll put one hand on my shoulder like so—” he takes Ed’s hand and places it appropriately, “and I’ll take your waist,” he does so, “and then we take each other’s remaining hands.”
“Lots of taking,” Ed mutters. “Sexy.”
Stede makes a small tutting noise. “Now, Ed. Focus.”
“Right, right. Waltzing. Go on.”
“It’s a simple three-part movement. Step, step, close. So as I step forward, you step back.”
Ed takes instructions well, actually. Stede shows him the basic pattern, one step, two steps, and then feet together. It feels easy, moving with him like this, gliding slowly across the deck as Stede leads them in slow motion.
“Excellent! You’re really doing quite well, Ed,” Stede says, and Ed smiles in a silly little way that’s remarkably endearing.
“I’ve got a great teacher,” he replies, and now it’s Stede’s turn to smile.
“Right. Now the next thing to practice is a turn…”
He shows Ed how to reconfigure the steps so that they rotate as they move, turning again and again until Ed has it mastered.
“Good!” Stede exclaims. “Now we can try a bit faster.”
They increase their speed in increments, moving faster as Ed grows more comfortable. When they reach a tempo that matches the music in Stede’s head, he begins to hum softly.
“That’s pretty,” Ed says. “What is it?”
“Oh, just a tune from my childhood,” Stede answers. “Can’t remember the composer. But I’ve always liked it.”
“‘S nice,” Ed replies. “This is nice.”
“What is?”
“Waltzing. You.” Ed grins. “Seems to me like this whole dance is just an excuse to hold someone close.”
“Well, you’re not wrong there.” Stede gently brings them to stop, but he leaves his hands where they are, unwilling to lose contact with the other man.
“Stede?”
“Yes?”
“Can I kiss you?”
Stede’s breath catches in his throat. He looks into Ed’s eyes, dark and beautiful in the moonlight, and he knows his answer. “Yes.”
Ed moves the hand on his shoulder to his cheek and slowly pulls Stede towards him, closing the distance between them and pressing their lips together softly.
They stay that way for a moment, kissing and holding one another in the moonlight, before Ed gently pulls away.
“Not bad for my first kiss,” Stede says with half a laugh, giddy from the fluttering in his stomach.
“That was your first kiss?” Ed raises his eyebrows, disbelief etched into his features.
“Well, um. Yes. It was.” Stede wonders if he ought to feel embarrassed. Surely Ed had kissed plenty of people before Stede; does he think Stede foolish in his inexperience?
Ed smiles. “Guess you’ve got a lot of catching up to do, then,” he says, and he kisses Stede again.
They do, indeed, spend an awful lot of time catching Stede up on a lifetime of missed kisses. Ed kisses him the morning when they first wake up, over their breakfast tea, before they fall asleep, at all sorts of random times of day. Sometimes they’re quick, precious things, lips closed and softly pressed together. Other times they linger for longer, hands finding cheeks and shoulders and waists, sending sparks flying through Stede’s chest. And at night, when it’s just the two of them alone in the captain’s quarters, Ed gives him a more thorough education, sliding his tongue into Stede’s mouth, making him gasp. The first time Ed nibbles on his lower lip, Stede lets out an involuntary moan.
“Oh yeah?” Ed asks, chuckling lightly.
“Yeah,” Stede breathes, and pulls Ed back in for more.
Overall, Stede is surprised at how smoothly his time aboard the ship has gone. The crew seems to have adjusted to his presence, Izzy notably excepted. And things with Ed are—well. Stede had spent many hours imagining what his life with Blackbeard might be like, while his father was arranging paperwork and terms. Never, in any scenario he played out, had he imagined himself this happy. He never imagined easy conversations, comfortable silences, sweetly shared moments, stolen kisses. He’d never imagined he’d start to fall for the man.
But he’d never imagined how brutal the violence would be, either.
He supposes he knew it was coming, eventually. The ship’s first raid with Stede on board. He’d tried not to think about it, though, tried not to imagine what exactly that would look like. But the day comes when they plan to raid a French merchant ship, and Stede finds himself anxious as the day he first arrived.
“You’ll stay on the ship, love,” Ed tells him as the crew rushes about making preparations. “Preferably below deck. I want you safe.”
Stede’s heart flutters a bit hearing the endearment, but it’s nothing compared to what his stomach is doing as he watches Ivan sharpening his knives.
“Of course,” he says, knowing he’d be utterly useless in a fight anyway. “Will it get too bloody, do you think?”
“Hard to say,” Ed replies. “But don’t you worry about it. Just relax, read a book or something. Keep the bed warm for me.” He winks, and Stede blushes. He knows Ed doesn’t mean anything by it, not really, but something goes warm and tight in his abdomen whenever Ed flirts like that. He lets himself imagine it for a moment, Ed returning from the raid sweaty and tired, falling into bed beside Stede and kissing him senseless and pressing his fingers into Stede’s hip and then…
Stede doesn’t let himself think any further.
He manages to be obedient for the first twenty minutes or so. He stays below deck with his copy of Hamlet, trying to let the familiar story soothe him as his thoughts turn again and again to what Ed must be doing. Is he in danger? Is he hurt? Stede knows that pirating isn’t exactly the safest lifestyle, but that’s one thing in the abstract and another when it’s Ed, in real life, in real danger, and he, Stede, left alone and totally unaware of what’s happening on the other ship. Stede thinks he might go mad if he has to stay still any longer, so he sets his book aside and heads up to the deck, just to see, just to try to loosen the knot of worry in his chest.
He has a clear view of the madness from where he stands. And it is madness, a whirl of bodies and blades and blood and gunpowder. Bodies lie on the deck, some moving, some not. Stede’s eyes scan the chaos, searching. He sees Izzy choking a man out, Fang twisting a man’s arm behind his back, the angle unnatural and painful-looking. He sees a body, its head turned away from Stede, and hopes it’s one of the Frenchman and not one of theirs.
And then, finally, he sees Ed. Ed, who is engaged in swordplay with a French sailor, blades flashing in the sunlight as they thrust and parry. Stede wrings his hands as he watches, terrified and unable to look away. Ed steps forward and then—Stede can’t stop a gasp from falling from his lips—the other man’s sword swipes Ed’s side, leaving a trail of blood to bloom along his exposed skin. Stede wants to cry out, wants to help, wants to do something, anything, but he’s helpless on the other side of the water. Ed shows no sign that the wound affects him, continuing to move fluidly and gracefully—a bit like their dancing, Stede thinks semi-hysterically—and in one smooth motion stabs the man through the stomach. The other man falls to his knees, gasping in pain, and Ed yanks his sword free before kicking him in the head, knocking him out cold.
Stede has to go then, has to stop watching before he throws up over the railing. He hurries into their room and doubles over as though he’s the one who’s been gut-stabbed. Images flash through his mind—the bodies, the blood, the ghastly pale color of the man’s face as he collapsed. And Ed, his sweet Ed, standing over him, looking impassive, totally unmoved by the pain he’d inflicted without a second thought. Stede focuses on his breathing, in and out, in and out, until his heart slows enough that it no longer threatens to beat its way out of his chest.
He doesn’t know how much time passes before Ed comes back to him. It could be minutes or hours; Stede is too lost in his own thoughts to have any sense of time. Ed’s shirt is covered in blood, and Stede can’t help but rush to him.
“Are you all right, darling?” he says, wanting to reach out and touch but suddenly afraid. “You’re bleeding.”
“Nah, not anymore,” Ed says, and he pulls off his shirt in one swift movement. “See? All bandaged up.”
He is, indeed, bandaged up, the white cloth wrapped tight around his middle. Stede takes what feels like his first real breath since he stepped onto the deck.
“Good,” he says, voice unsteady. “Good.” He sits back down on the bed where he had been. Ed’s looking at him with concern in his eyes.
“What about you, love?” he asks, using that word again. Earlier it had made Stede swoon, but now he feels a little pang upon hearing it. “You look all shook up. Almost like you’re the one who got raided.” He chuckles a little, but Stede can’t find it in himself to smile back.
“I saw you,” he says, and the words come out softer than he expected. “The raid, I mean, I—I came out and watched.”
“Oh,” Ed says, sitting down on the bed beside him. “And what did you think?”
“It was awful,” Stede says, voice breaking a bit. “There was so much blood and so many bodies and you got hurt! And you—you stabbed that man.” Stede stares into his lap. “You hurt him.”
“That’s the job, love,” Ed says, taking Stede’s hand. “I wish you hadn’t seen it. But that’s what I do. It’s who I am.”
“It can’t be,” Stede rasps. “You’re so—so kind, and good, Ed.”
“I’m really not.” Ed brushes his thumb along the back of Stede’s hand. “You should know that. I’m not a good person, Stede.”
“You’re good to me,” he whispers.
“I try,” Ed says softly. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I understand if—if you don’t want to be near me so much. After this.”
“No,” Stede says, the response as immediate as instinct. “No, I suppose I just—need time to adjust.” He smiles weakly. “Never been married to a pirate before.”
“Never been married to a gentleman before,” Ed responds, smiling.
It’s only then that it occurs to Stede that Ed is shirtless next to him on the bed. His eyes follow the lines of Ed’s tattoos where they snake from his shoulders down his strong, muscled chest. The shape of him is lovely, the sight of all that skin downright mouthwatering. Stede finds his gaze lingering much longer than is proper on the planes of Ed’s body.
Ed catches him staring, and Stede immediately wants to apologize. Instead, Ed speaks first.
“You can touch me, you know. Anywhere you like.”
It’s tempting to demur, to avoid the invitation in Ed’s statement, to change and get ready for bed and spend the evening processing everything he’s just seen—and maybe replaying the sound of Ed’s voice calling him “love” over and over. But a certain boldness seizes Stede, perhaps some residual adrenaline from watching the fight, and he reaches out and places a hand over Ed’s heart.
He feels the beat of Ed’s pulse under his palm and begins to move his fingertips lightly, ever so lightly, over his collarbones, his shoulders, his neck. Ed’s eyes stay on Stede’s fingers as they touch him, his breathing nearly as heavy as Stede’s. Stede traces his way down one arm, then the other, planting kisses along each of Ed’s palms when he reaches them.
“Fuck,” Ed breathes.
“All right?” Stede asks, nervous as his hand finds its way back to Ed’s chest.
“That feels so fucking good,” Ed says, and he places his hand on top of Stede’s where it’s resting over his heart again.
They stay like that for a while, Ed’s fingers tracing gentle circles along the back of Stede’s hand, his heart beating under Stede’s warm palms. Eventually, Stede leans forward for a kiss.
“We should go to bed, darling,” he tells Ed gently. “You must be exhausted.”
“Yeah, yeah, I am,” Ed admits, and he lets Stede guide him down until he’s lying on his back. Stede settles in beside him and then, slowly, hesitantly, he rests his head on Ed’s shoulder and his hand back over Ed’s heart.
Ed wraps an arm around his shoulders, and they fall asleep like that, wrapped up each other.
Stede wakes up in Ed’s arms, and they talk about it more. Stede confesses that he’s never given much thought to the realities of piracy, and Ed confesses that he’s never given much thought to Stede’s lack of exposure to said realities. Stede promises that he doesn’t think any less of Ed for doing what he has to to get the job done, and Ed promises that he’ll do what he can to protect Stede from the uglier aspects of piracy. They also agree that Stede needs to learn to defend himself, if he’s going to live aboard a pirate ship.
Which is how Stede finds himself on the deck with a sword in his hand, Ed repositioning his hips so he’s in an appropriate stance. Stede tries not to think too hard about the delicious pressure of Ed’s hands on his hips, tries not to imagine where else his hands might wander from there. Focus, he tells himself. Sword fighting.
“Right. So. The thing about swordplay is, the best way to win a fight is to not get in one in the first place. But if you do, remember that you’re going for the other person’s body, not their sword.”
“I’m trying to stab them?”
“Yes, love, you’re trying to stab them.”
“But I don’t want to stab you!”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right.” Ed grins. “Right. So the first thing I’m going to teach you is a parry.”
They practice most of the afternoon. Ed’s a patient teacher, if not the best at explaining things verbally. More than once he makes physical adjustments to Stede’s body and movement, and Stede finds himself a bit flustered by it all—the excitement of sword fighting, the feeling of Ed’s hands on his wrists, his hips, his shoulders. Probably it’s just the exertion and the sun turning Stede’s cheeks steadily pinker. Probably.
“I think that’s enough for today,” Ed concludes finally as the sun begins to set. “We can practice some more tomorrow. Dinner?”
“Dinner,” Stede agrees, and they walk arm-in-arm into their quarters.
As they’re finishing dinner, Ed asks, “So what did you think, then? Of sword fighting?”
“It’s terribly exciting,” Stede confesses. “I never thought I’d get to do anything that exciting in my life, if I’m honest.”
“Why not?”
“Well. You have to consider, I was supposed to be married off to a woman of means. Run an estate. Be a member of society. All very straightforward and tedious. I only ever dreamed of adventures like this one.”
“Adventures like learning to use a sword?” Ed prompts, a smile teasing the edge of his lips.
“Adventures like being married to a pirate captain,” Stede says, perhaps a bit too honestly.
“And what’s that like?”
“Well. It’s dangerous, of course. Always danger aboard a pirate ship.”
“Sure.”
“But it’s thrilling, as well. He…he makes me happy in ways I never expected. He’s kind and clever and remarkably patient. I always feel safe with him.”
“Fuck,” Ed says. “Fuck, that’s beautiful.”
“He’s handsome, too,” Stede adds.
“Oh?”
“And an excellent kisser.”
“I see.”
“I got a bit flustered today,” Stede admits, deciding to be brave. “You see, he taught me how to sword fight, and he kept touching me. It drove me a bit wild.”
“Yeah?” Ed grins. “I could fluster you a bit more. If you like.”
“Yes, please,” Stede says, perfectly polite, and Ed laughs, a warm, fond thing. He stands up then and beckons.
“C’mere.”
Stede stands and walks over to him, standing close enough that their chests brush against one another.
“Now,” Ed asks him, his thumb tracing Stede’s cheekbone, “What got you so hot and bothered today, hm?”
“You kept touching my hips,” Stede admits. “It was…nice, I suppose.”
“Hm, like this?” Ed drops his hands down to Stede’s hip bones and starts massaging gentle circles with his thumb on one side.
“Oh,” Stede says, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “Yes, that’s…that’s good.”
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous like this,” Ed says, his eyes hot and intense as he looks at Stede. “Makes me want to touch you all over.”
“Would you?” Stede breathes, all the air leaving his lungs as he says it. He wants, wants in a way unfamiliar to him, but he wants all the same. He wants Ed to touch every inch of him, those calloused hands finding every nook and cranny of his body, even the places he’s never shared with anyone else. Perhaps especially those places.
“You sure?” Ed’s gaze rakes across Stede’s face, looking for confirmation.
“Yes,” Stede says. “Ed, I want you. Please.”
“Fuck,” Ed says again. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” He wraps one arm around Stede’s waist and uses his other hand to trace up and down his spine. Stede shivers.
“Me? What could I possibly do to you?”
“You—how was it you put it earlier? You drive me wild.” Ed’s lips find Stede’s neck and he gasps quietly.
“Ed,” he breathes.
“Yes, love?”
“I don’t—I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“That’s all right,” Ed says. “Let me show you.”
Stede nods, and slowly, carefully, Ed slides his hands down to grab Stede’s ass.
“Oh,” Stede sighs. “Oh, that feels good.”
Ed gives him a gentle squeeze, and Stede squeaks. Actually squeaks, like he’s a mouse. Ed laughs.
“Like that?” he murmurs into Stede’s ear.
“Yes, very much.”
Ed squeezes again, a little harder this time, and then he keeps going, running his hands up and down Stede’s ass, rubbing and squeezing and grabbing. Stede moans and sighs, amazed at how good a few simple movements can make him feel.
“You ready for more?” Ed asks him, and Stede nods.
“All right. Why don’t we move over to the bed?”
Stede’s heartbeat picks up a little—something about the idea of the bed makes him nervous but also sends a thrill through him—but then Ed takes his hand, and he relaxes and lets himself be guided over to the bed.
“Lie down, love,” Ed says, and Stede complies.
“I like it when you call me that,” he says.
“What? Love?”
“Yes, that.”
“I’ll have to call you that more often then, love,” Ed says with a cheeky little grin. And then he’s getting on the bed too, and he’s leaning over Stede, his body warm and delicious against his, and their mouths are meeting. Ed parts his lips willingly when Stede slides his tongue along his lips, sucking gently on Stede’s tongue when it enters. Stede moans, louder than he plans to, but as Ed would say, fuck it. It’s just the two of them, after all, and Ed seems to like the noises Stede is making.
They come up for air eventually, and they breathe heavily, foreheads pressed together.
“Enjoying yourself?” Ed asks.
“Very much so,” Stede answers. “And you?”
“What do you think?” Ed asks, glancing downward. Stede’s eyes follow his and oh. Ed’s as hard as he is, erection straining the tight lines of his leather pants.
“You too?” he asks, giddiness bubbling up in his chest at the thought that he, Stede Bonnet, notable nobody, had made Edward Teach hard with wanting.
“Me too,” Ed laughs, and Stede laughs with him.
“Will you…” Stede struggles with the words, but he presses onward anyway. “Will you touch me more?”
“Wherever you want, love,” Ed says, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“I…in between my legs? Would you?”
“You want me to touch your cock?” Ed’s pupils are blown wide with lust as he looks at Stede, and Stede’s not sure he’s ever blushed this hard in his life.
“Please?”
“Always so polite,” Ed murmurs. “Well, since you asked so nicely…”
Ed slowly runs his fingertips over Stede’s clothed stomach, and Stede is reminded of how good Ed’s bare chest felt under his fingers the night before. And then all his thoughts scatter as Ed gently cups his cock through the fabric of his breeches.
“Oh, God, ” Stede moans. “Ed!”
“Easy, now,” Ed murmurs, pressing light kisses into his neck. “This all right?”
“Fuck,” Stede says for the first time in his life, and Ed laughs.
“Never thought I’d hear a gentleman say a word like that. Let’s see what other sounds I can get you to make.”
Ed starts to move his hand, slowly at first, and then with more urgency. Stede’s hips thrust up at the touch, desperate and wanting as Ed palms him through his clothes. He’s touched himself a few times before, always furtively in his bed in the early hours of the morning, and his own hand was never anything like this. Ed’s touch is exquisite, sending him so close to the edge from so little stimulation.
“So fucking gorgeous,” Ed says, and Stede’s breath hitches.
“Ed—I’m going to—“
“You going to come? Do it, then. Let me see you.”
Stede’s coming then, the sounds coming out of him noises he didn’t know he could make, waves of pleasure crashing over him like the waves that crash against the ship. He’s gone; he’s ecstatic; he’s pressed against Ed and he’s coming, and maybe nothing has ever felt better in his life.
Ed murmurs sweet nothings to him as he comes down, brushing his lips across Stede’s lips, his nose, his forehead. Stede is grateful for the attention, grateful to know that Ed is still with him in the aftermath of his release. His poor breeches will need some serious laundering, and he can’t help but feel sorry for whatever poor crew member gets stuck with the job.
“You’re amazing, love,” Ed praises. “You’re so good, so pretty when you come apart for me like that.”
“Ed?” Stede asks, feeling more like himself.
“Yeah?”
“Can I return the favor? I mean, can I touch you—your cock, that is?” Stede can hardly believe his own boldness, but then, he can hardly believe anything that’s happened tonight.
“I wish I spoke more languages.”
“What?”
“So I would know more ways to tell you yes.” Ed smiles, and Stede smiles back. “Here, d’ you want to readjust a bit?”
They end up on their sides, facing each other. Stede takes his time, running his hands over Ed’s chest, first over his shirt and then, shyly, sneaking a hand under it. Ed sighs and murmurs encouragement, and when Stede has gathered enough boldness, he slides his hand down to touch Ed’s cock.
Ed’s thick, Stede notices, and he blushes as he thinks about just what that implies for their future endeavors. He thinks of Ed stretching him, filling him, and if he weren’t so recently spent, he’d be as hard as Ed is now. Stede isn’t sure of himself, thinks his movements, slowly tracing up and down the outline of Ed’s cock, must be awkward and awful, but Ed moans beautifully, encouraging him. Stede moves a bit faster then, squeezes a bit tighter, and Ed’s breath is coming hot and heavy.
“Fuck, Stede, that’s so good,” he says, eyes fluttering shut. “Oh, love. Don’t stop.”
And Stede doesn’t, keeps moving his hand over Ed’s pants, keeps stroking with his fingers and thumb until Ed is shouting with pleasure, his lips parted and eyes wide as he comes from Stede’s touch.
Stede doesn’t know what to do with a post-orgasmic man except what’s just been done to him, so he presses gentle kisses to Ed’s face and murmurs “pretty. So pretty,” to him as Ed catches his breath.
“Should probably get you out of those pants,” Ed mutters.
“And you,” Stede says with a hint of a laugh.
“And me,” Ed agrees with a smile, and he finds a towel somewhere and hands it to Stede, who cleans himself up the best he can before shimmying out of his trousers entirely, trying his best not to blush knowing that Ed is watching him.
“Beautiful,” Ed proclaims after Stede takes his shirt off, too, standing completely naked in front of his husband for the first time, and Stede loses the fight not to blush. “And always blushing for me.” Ed kisses his cheek.
They change into their nightclothes, and Stede permits himself to drink in the sight of Ed’s body as he changes. He’s so lovely, all that tattooed skin. Stede wants to kiss every inch of it.
Maybe, he thinks, as he’s falling asleep in Ed’s arms, just maybe, he can.
Stede’s not sure how much he actually learns over the next few days of sword fighting lessons. Now that Ed knows how his hands on Stede make him weak, it seems he goes out of his way to be as physical as possible in his instruction, and it’s terribly distracting. At one point, when he’s standing behind Stede correcting his grip, he presses a kiss to his neck, and Stede’s head falls back instinctively onto his shoulder.
“Focus, Stede,” Ed teases, and Stede pouts.
“You’re not exactly making it easy.”
“‘Course not. Where’s the fun in that?” He kisses his neck again before returning to face him, a wicked grin on his face.
They spend their evenings on a different kind of instruction. Stede starts to grow more comfortable with the feel of Ed’s hands and mouth on his body, with putting his hands and mouth on Ed’s. Hickeys had been a revelation; Stede had practically come in his pants the first night Ed sucked a bruise into his skin. He’d hidden it under a cravat the next day, but he could feel Ed’s eyes on the spot, and it sent a thrill through him to know Ed had marked him, had claimed him as his own.
Stede learns how to touch Ed back, finds his way to the most sensitive places on his body, the places that make Ed gasp and moan. It’s a heady feeling, making the pirate captain fall apart under his fingertips. Stede can’t imagine ever growing tired of it.
A few nights after their first dalliance, Stede finds himself in bed with Ed, the two of them still fully dressed and kissing lazily, Ed’s hand under Stede’s shirt as he traces abstract shapes along his ribs.
“What’d I do to get you in my life, hm?” Ed asks him, his lips still close enough to brush Stede’s as he speaks.
“Well. You made a rather unusual request to the king, is what you did.”
“Hm?”
“You asked for a gentleman,” Stede reminds him.
“Oh, right. Y’know I did that just to fuck with him?”
“With the king ?”
“Yep. Figured he’d lose his shit a bit.”
“He did,” Stede laughs. “So did everyone working on the contract. It was the subject of debate for weeks. ”
“Good. Love to cause a little chaos.” Ed winks, and Stede’s heart flips. “‘M glad I didn’t take their first offer for a bride, though.”
“Not interested in women?”
“Nah, I’ve never been picky. Men, women, whatever. I’ve slept with all sorts of people. No, I’m glad I asked for a gentleman because if I hadn’t, I’d never have met you.”
Stede feels warm all over. “I’m glad you did, too,” he whispers, and he kisses him, long and deep.
When their lips finally part, Ed presses their foreheads together and murmurs, “Want to try something new?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I was thinking I could suck your cock.”
Something hot and energetic rushes through Stede’s body at the proposal. Lust, he realizes. He is very much feeling lust for Edward. Before he can feel too embarrassed, he nods vigorously.
Ed smiles and pulls Stede’s shirt up to plant a trail of kisses down his chest and stomach, stopping with his face hovering just above Stede’s crotch. He nuzzles Stede’s already-hardening cock with his nose, and Stede giggles. Ed reached for the laces on his pants, undoing them slowly, his eyes on Stede, fingers working deftly without his gaze on them. He slides Stede’s pants down to his knees and presses a soft kiss to the head of his cock. Stede wriggles a bit beneath him, the sensation strange and entirely welcome.
Ed licks a stripe from the base of Stede’s cock to the tip before wrapping his lips around the head. Stede’s breath is coming hot and heavy, little whimpers and moans escaping his throat. Ed puts a hand on Stede’s hip before dropping his head lower, lower, slowly filling his entire mouth with Stede’s length. He starts to move, tongue dragging along the underside of Stede’s cock as his head bobs up and down. Stede’s loud at this point, moaning Ed and oh, God , and darling. The wet heat of Ed’s mouth around his cock is intoxicating, and Stede’s caught up in it, caught up in the raw, unadulterated pleasure of Ed blowing him.
Stede wants to stay like this forever, Ed’s mouth on him and pleasure rushing through him like a river. He can’t last, though, and he says so. Ed pulls off him, lips wet with spit, eyes glistening with want.
“You want to come like this, love? Or do you want me to show you something else?”
And it’s tempting, it really is, to keep going, to finish like this, to learn what it is to come in Ed’s mouth. But Stede’s curiosity gets the better of him, and he says, “Something else?”
Ed grins. “I think you’ll like this. Roll over onto your side.”
Stede goes, hearing the sound of Ed’s clothing rustling behind him as he does. It’s a long moment before Ed returns and settles behind him. When Ed’s body presses against his back, he’s bare against Stede’s exposed skin. He traces his fingers over Stede’s hip, teasing him.
“So eager for me,” Ed murmurs into his ear and nibbles gently at the lobe. “Let me make you feel good.”
Stede hears the pop of a bottle opening behind him and feels Ed moving and shuffling a bit.
“Oil,” Ed says by way of explanation, and then he’s sliding his slicked-up cock between Stede’s thighs.
Stede moans at the feeling of Ed’s cock pressing against his balls, the warmth of him between his legs. Ed starts to move then, rocking his hips forward and back and sending sparks of pleasure through Stede’s body with every movement.
“Fuck, you feel good,” Ed says. “You’ve got such gorgeous legs. I’ve been dreaming of this.”
“Ed,” is all Stede can get out as a reply, and he doesn’t need to say anything else, is too busy being wrapped up in the feel and the sound and the smell of Ed . Ed in between his thighs, Ed’s cock doing wonderful, filthy things to him, Ed pressed up against him and hard and wanting. Ed starts to move more quickly, fucking Stede’s thighs with urgency and heat, his breath coming quickly in Stede’s ear.
Ed wraps his hand around Stede’s cock and starts to pump in rhythm with his thrusts. “You’re so good to me,” he says, “so good. Fuck, Stede, I’m not going to last much longer, but I want you to come first.”
“That can be arranged,” Stede gasps, and with a few more strokes of Ed’s hand he’s coming, the delicious feeling overwhelming him, crashing over him with a power he didn’t know his body possessed.
Ed keeps moving, fucks Stede through it, and before long he’s coming too, Stede’s name on his lips like a prayer, and there’s no sound in this world Stede wants to hear more.
Ed’s arm wraps around Stede’s stomach, holding him close as they come down.
“You were right,” Stede says, breathing heavily. “I did like that.”
Ed starts to laugh, and Stede laughs with him.
“I think I like everything with you,” Stede confesses.
“I’m sure we’ll run into something that’s not your speed at some point. But I know how you feel.” Ed kisses his cheek. “It’s different with you.”
Stede turns his head and shoulders so he can see Ed. “What do you mean?”
Ed shrugs. “Dunno exactly. Just…I know what sex is like with other people. And it’s nice, sure, but with you…it’s like fireworks, love.”
Stede flushes. “I know what you mean. I mean, I don’t. I’ve never done anything with anyone else. But…the fireworks. I feel them too.”
“Good,” Ed says with a smile. “Now let’s get cleaned up and go to sleep, hm?”
And that sounds just about perfect to Stede.
They’re at port when the news arrives.
Stede’s fussing over the selection at a booth selling fabric wares, debating between an orange cashmere throw and a peach one, when a British naval officer finds him.
“Stede Bonnet?” he asks.
“Yes, that’s me,” he responds. “Do you think this color is too bright? Or is it just bright enough?”
“Stede Bonnet, I have a message for you from your father.”
“Oh, God.”
“He says you’re to return home immediately.”
“What? What on Earth for?”
“Well, since your marriage has been dissolved.”
Stede blinks. “Sorry?”
“Did no one tell you? Word was supposed to have been sent to the Queen Anne’s Revenge. The king has dissolved your union. You’re free to return to proper society.”
“What—why? He—no?” Stede sputters, not entirely sure what he’s saying but knowing that this cannot be happening. He can’t go back to his old life, not now, not after he knows how much sweeter life is onboard a pirate ship. Alongside Ed.
“No?”
“Uh, no,” Stede says, attempting to recover. “I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you.”
“You’d…rather not?”
“Precisely,” Stede says, nodding. “I’d much prefer to stay here. With my husband.”
“He’s not your husband,” the officer says, brow furrowing. “I doubt he ever really was. You’re both men, for God’s sake.”
“And what difference should that make?” Stede snaps. “No, I’m fine just where I am, thank you very much. Tell my father…tell my father I’m sorry, but that won’t be happening.”
“If you insist,” the officer says, eyebrows raised.
“I do,” Stede replies. “I do insist.”
“Stede?” He hears Ed’s voice behind him. “What’s going on? Who’s this prick?”
“He was just leaving,” Stede says, and the officer retreats, frowning.
“Who the hell was that?” Ed asks.
“Do you like the orange or the peach?” Stede says desperately, trying to pretend the entire conversation didn’t happen.
“Whichever you prefer, love. Seriously, why was some navy fucker talking to you? Do you need me to rough him up?”
“That won’t be necessary, darling.” Stede swallows. “He had a message from my father, actually.”
“And what did your father have to say?”
“He wants me to come home. Because…because our marriage has been dissolved?”
“What’s that now?”
“That’s what he said, that the king dissolved the marriage,” Stede tries to explain, despite not really understanding himself.
“Why?”
“Couldn’t tell you. They apparently sent word to the ship…?”
“Hm. I’ll have to check with Izzy. I don’t like this,” Ed says.
Stede buys the orange, and they head back to the ship.
Word had, in fact, arrived, while they were away. Izzy shoves a piece of parchment bearing the royal seal at Stede.
“By order of the king, the marriage between one Stede Bonnet and the pyrate Edward Teach or ‘Blackbeard’ is hereby annulled, and with it any accords assigned therein,” Stede reads.
“What the hell does that mean?” Ed growls.
“Deal’s off,” Izzy replies.
“Yes,” Stede agrees. “Although…well, I don’t think they can actually annul the marriage. For that to happen the relationship can’t have been consummated.” He blushes to mention that in front of Izzy, but the man just continues with his usual scowling.
“We’re going to see your father,” Ed declares.
“What? Why?” Stede tries not to sound panicked and fails.
“To clear all this marriage business up. I signed a bloody contract; they don’t get to go back on that.” Ed frowns. “We leave in the morning.”
Stede’s anxiety is through the roof when he stands outside his parents’ home. He can’t imagine any way that this ends well for him; his father is likely to humiliate him in front of Ed, and he can’t imagine he’ll particularly approve of his pirate husband either. Stede imagines all sorts of cutting things his father might say, and he winces at the thought of Ed seeing him that way, quiet and unable to stand up for himself in the face of his father’s judgment. He wants to throw up, wants to turn around and go back to the ship, wants to pretend the conversation with the naval officer never happened. But Ed insisted that they come, insisted that they straighten all this out. So now here he is, on his father’s doorstep, Edward Teach by his side, and he’s not breathing quite right.
“All right, love?” Ed asks, and all Stede can do is nod weakly. Ed knocks on the door.
A servant answers. Stede decides it’s better for him to lead this part of the interaction. “Stede Bonnet,” he says, “Here for Edward Bonnet.”
“Edward? Really?” Ed says, and Stede shushes him.
“Yes, he’s been expecting you,” the servant girl says. “And who is your…guest?”
Stede can imagine how Ed must look, with his leathers and his gun and his knife, standing outside his parents’ posh home. He presses on as though it were a perfectly ordinary interaction. “This is my husband,” he says, keeping his tone even and polite. “He’s come to visit as well.”
The servant girl looks like she wants to say something to that, but she thinks better of it and leads the two of them inside and into the drawing room, where Stede’s father sits with a cup of tea.
“Stede,” he says, no particular warmth in his voice.
“Father, this is Ed. Ed, my father.”
“Ed?” Stede’s father asks, his eyebrows climbing high on his forehead. “You didn’t—Stede Bonnet, you did not bring Edward Teach into my house.”
“Yes,” Stede says testily. “I did.”
“What the hell is wrong with you, boy?” his father snarls. “You were supposed to come home with your things, not a bloody pirate! You useless idiot, I should have known you would muck up something so simple—”
Stede doesn’t feel Ed move, but suddenly he’s got a knife to Stede’s father’s throat.
“I’d be careful how you speak to my husband,” Ed says calmly. “I’m a bloody pirate, after all.”
Ed tucks his knife away, and Stede’s father scoffs.
“Husband. That’s ridiculous. The king called off that nonsense weeks ago.”
“That’s what we’re here to talk about,” Stede says, watching Ed carefully. His posture displays nothing but total comfort and relaxation. “May we sit?”
“I suppose so,” his father says, gesturing unenthusiastically at the seats across from him.
They sit, and the servant girl from earlier brings them tea.
“I have to admit, I’m a bit lost,” Stede starts. His father looks like he wants to say something smart about this, but Ed glares at him, and he shuts up. “One moment, everything was fine, and the next, we received word that the king wants to annul our marriage? What brought that on?”
“That would be me,” Stede’s father replies. “Oh, I went along with this whole insane scheme because the king thought it was a good idea, and I’m loyal to my king, but I knew we’d find you a proper marriage before long. And we have. Mary Allamby’s parent’s have agreed to the union, and with a bit of convincing, the king agreed to the annulment. Came to his senses, finally, I think.”
“You,” Stede starts, then stops. “You did this?”
“As I said, I made a request, and the king granted it. The whole thing was outrageous to begin with. Two men married. Who ever heard of such a thing? No, it’s high time you came home from this ridiculous affair and settled into your proper place in society.”
Stede is speechless. He turns to look at Ed, who’s fidgeting in the seat next to him.
“Go on, then,” he says quietly.
“What?” Stede says.
“We’ll have your things sent over from the ship. You deserve happiness.”
“Ed, what are you talking about?”
“Your new wife. Your life here in Barbados,” Ed says. “Don’t you want that?”
“Of course not!”
“What do you mean, of course not?” Stede’s father demands. Stede ignores him in favor of Ed.
“Darling. Why would I want to go back to my old life?”
“Because it’s where you belong,” Ed says. “Stede, you’re a gentleman. You ought to have a fine house and a fine wife and fine things. You don’t belong on a pirate ship.”
“Here, here,” says Stede’s father. They both ignore him.
“I don’t care about any of that,” Stede says, taking Ed’s hand in his. “I care about you, Ed. I love you.” The words come out so smoothly, so easily, as if Stede has been waiting his entire life to say them. Maybe he has.
“You mean that?” Ed looks cracked open, his face as vulnerable as Stede’s ever seen it.
“Of course I do. And I’m not leaving you.”
Ed stands and pulls Stede up into a kiss, his lips soft and so, so loving.
“I love you, too,” he says.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Stede’s father says, and the two men finally turn to face him.
“I’m not coming back,” Stede says. “I have a husband who makes me happy. I’m sorry if you don’t understand that, but it’s the truth.”
“So that’s it, then. You’re going to throw your life away to be with some pirate ?” Stede’s father spits.
“Not just any pirate,” Stede replies. “My Ed.” Ed smiles and kisses him again.
“What am I supposed to tell the Allambys?” Stedes father asks. “What am I supposed to tell the king ?”
“Tell him to go suck eggs in hell,” Stede suggests, and Ed laughs.
When they return to the ship, Ed tells the crew to take the night off. “And by that, I mean get off my fucking ship, and don’t come back ‘til morning,” he says. The crew scatters without needing telling twice.
“Ed, darling,” Stede scolds gently, “No need for harshness.”
“Needed ‘em to fuck off,” Ed explains. “I plan to make you scream tonight.”
Stede has no reply to that except to kiss him with all the passion in his heart. Which is an awful lot of passion.
They make their way clumsily to the captain’s quarters, where Ed scoops him up and carries him across the threshold and over to their bed, Stede giggling all the while. Ed kisses him, hands cupping either side of Stede’s face as their tongues explore each other’s mouths.
“I love you,” Stede says again when they part, and then again, “I love you.”
“I love you,” Ed echoes, and he rubs his nose against Stede’s.
“Ed?”
“Yes, love?”
“Will you fuck me?”
“Fuck,” Ed breathes. “You sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Except you, of course.”
“Well, then, yes,” Ed says. “Anything for you, my love.”
They take turns undressing each other, taking their time with one another, knowing that there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, that can keep them apart now. When at last they’re both naked, Stede lies down on the bed and Ed goes to fetch the bottle of oil, dipping his fingers in it.
Ed starts slowly, tracing gentle circles around Stede’s entrance with his thumb. Stede shudders. No one’s ever touched him there before, and it feels good, so deliciously good that he isn’t sure what to do with himself. After a few moments of this, Ed asks, “Ready for me to come inside?”
“Yes,” Stede breathes, and Ed’s entering him then, sliding his finger in just to the first knuckle. It feels strange, the intrusion, but nice, too, Stede’s nerve endings firing like pistols.
“How’s that?” Ed asks, and Stede smiles.
“Good, darling, so good.”
Ed moves in deeper, until his entire finger is inside Stede, and Stede moans quietly at the feeling. Ed kisses him, mouth closed and lips soft, and Stede kisses him back eagerly. “Move, please,” he says into Ed’s mouth, and Ed laughs and starts to thrust slowly in and out of him.
Stede’s feeling a little bit delirious, and all Ed’s given him is a single finger. Still, it’s so irresistibly good, Ed sliding out of him and back in again, over and over, sending pleasure throughout Stede’s entire body with such minimal touch. “More?” Ed asks him, and Stede nods, wanting everything Ed will give him. Ed adds a second finger alongside the first and oh , that stretch is exquisite, any discomfort giving way to the sheer pleasure that threatens to overwhelm Stede.
Ed makes a small scissoring motion inside Stede, and Stede moans. “There’s that sound I’m looking for,” Ed teases, and Stede doesn’t even blush, instead moaning again when Ed crooks his fingers inside him, making him see stars.
“Oh, fuck,” Stede says, and Ed grins and does it again, setting Stede to writhing beneath him. “More,” Stede says, desperation in his voice. “More, please.”
“Fuck, you’re pretty when you beg,” Ed says, and he gives Stede what he wants, sliding a third finger alongside the first two. He continues taking Stede apart slowly, moving his fingers in ways that make Stede louder and louder, harder and harder with absolute, unadulterated want . Finally, after what might be a few minutes or several eternities, Ed asks, “You ready for my cock, love?”
“Yes,” Stede says. “Yes, Ed, yes .”
Ed slicks up his cock and lines himself up with Stede’s entrance, and just the feeling of his head against Stede’s hole has Stede moaning. Ed enters him slowly, carefully, giving him time to adjust as he goes. Finally, he’s buried all the way inside Stede, and they both breathe heavily, their foreheads pressed together.
“Fuck, Stede,” Ed murmurs. “You feel incredible.”
“No, you,” Stede counters weakly, and Ed smiles.
When he moves, Stede swears the whole world shifts. Stede’s never felt as good in his life as he does with Ed moving inside him, slowly at first, and then a little faster, sending pulses of heat up Stede’s spine with every thrust. This is all he needs, Stede thinks, not money or land or power, just Ed fucking him like he’s the most precious thing in the world, like every moment is a gift to be savored.
Stede reaches for his own cock, but Ed gently bats his hand away, pumping his fist up and down Stede’s shaft with just the right amount of pressure.
“Oh, Ed,” Stede moans, louder than he thinks he’s ever been in his life. “Fuck, Ed, I’m going to come.” And then he does, shouting as he falls over the edge, nothing mattering in the entire universe except him and Ed and the heady feeling of release.
Ed goes to pull out, then, but Stede stops him with a leg wrapped around his hip. “Don’t stop,” he says, and Ed nods, and he keeps fucking him, his breath coming ragged as he nears his own edge. “Come for me, my darling,” Stede says, and Ed spills into him with a cry, filling him from the inside, and it’s so deliciously filthy that Stede moans again.
They look into each other’s eyes as they come down, Ed pulling out of Stede and kissing him once, twice, three times. “I love you,” Ed says, and Stede responds, “I love you, too.”
Ed fetches a towel and cleans Stede up with a tenderness that no longer surprises him. That’s his Ed. Fierce and funny and soft and sweet and kind and knowing. The perfect complement to Stede in every possible sense. His husband. His man. His Ed.
They fall into each other’s arms, then, a mess of limbs and lips as they kiss without finesse. Stede presses a kiss to Ed’s forehead. “That was incredible, darling.”
“You're telling me.” Ed strokes Stede’s hair softly. “I love every moment I spend with you.”
“Me too.”
And that, Stede thinks, is enough for a lifetime.