Archive of Our Own

Ed is one mosquito away from losing his fucking mind. 

The night is humid. They have been traipsing through some rich fop’s stupidly lush garden for what feels like centuries. Every bug on earth is in Ed’s hair and beard—and it's all because Queen Anne’s Revenge was stuffed to the gills with everything but the fucking sails from the last ship they raided. 

They’d had to take everything that wasn’t nailed down just to make the losses they suffered worth it. They didn’t lose any crew or limbs, thank fuck, but they nearly lost something arguably more precious to them— Annie herself.

Explosives had scorched Annie’s deck, nearly reaching the sails before the Swede and Frenchie managed to douse the flames. Izzy had wanted to torch the remaining crew members of the Dutch vessel in return, and Ed almost agreed with him. Instead, he opted for a more lingering method of disposal. 

They marooned the lot of them on some no-name spit of land with barely enough fresh water to keep them from going mad. Still, he met his first mate halfway; they scuttled the Gunst in full view of its crew, giving Wee John and the other interested parties free reign to rig it for one hell of an explosion. 

The entire ship had been stuffed with shining, fancy fabric that Frenchie, Lucius, and Wee John swore would bring in a pretty penny once they managed to offload it in Barbados. They ‘knew a guy’ from before they went on account and took to piracy, hence why they were all tromping through the muggy evening air. 

Izzy huffs in irritation as he marches sullenly next to Ed. “This raid wasn’t our best work,” he admits. “Shoulda took Lucius’ advice and headed straight for port.” 

“Do not repeat this to him, but I agree,” Ed admits. “That why you’re hidin’ up here with me? Trying to avoid the ‘I told you so,’?” 

Izzy glares at him. “No.” Bugs chirp and screech in the brief silence. “Partially.” 

“Fair enough,” Ed relents, short of breath. He sighs, pressing a hand to the stitch in his side. “You know anything about the connection for the fabric?” 

Izzy shrugs, uncapping the flask at his belt and taking a hearty swig. “Lucius said they worked for him before,” Izzy explains. 

“What did they do before they met up with Wee John?” Ed asks. He gives into temptation and pulls his pipe from within his jacket, patting his pockets for a match. Izzy rolls his eyes and pulls a tiny canister from his vest pocket. 

Ed beams as Izzy strikes a match and holds it to the bowl. “They were con artists,” says Izzy, shaking the match out once Edward has a decent cherry glowing in his pipe. “Grifting rich folks.” 

“Grifting the guy we’re trying to sell the fabric to?” Ed asks. He blows a plume of smoke toward the sky before offering Izzy a hit. 

Izzy takes the pipe readily, eyes fluttering closed as he inhales. “No,” he replies, voice thick from holding in a lungful of smoke. “Apparently, they decided to go legit when the rich idiot paid them more to work for him than they would have made trying to grift him. 

“Wee John worked for him, I guess—after his mother died. Lucius told me Wee John took one look at him and Frenchie and said he’d break their arms if they tried to con him.” 

Ed raises his eyebrows in surprise before blowing a smoke ring. “I hadn’t realized they had all met before they went on account.” 

Shrugging, Izzy kicks a wayward rock out of their path. “Lucius said the man is an odd duck. Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean.”

“How odd?” Ed asks, skeptical. “Buttons odd? Calico Jack odd?” 

Izzy chuckles, reaching for another turn with the pipe. “He’s a ponce,” Izzy says dismissively. “A dandy. Frenchie called him harmless, and the man’s scared of cats.” 

“Frenchie says Wee John is harmless, so maybe he isn’t the best gauge for someone’s harmlessness.” 

“He’s a man with more money than sense,” says Izzy. 

Ed snorts. “I can tell,” he says, indicating the stupidly manicured garden and expensive, foreign plants in a sweeping gesture. “Most rich bastards are.” 

“I won’t argue with that.” 

“Shoulda sent you to negotiate,” Ed complains, sucking his teeth as he bats away yet another winged bug from his face. “Might have intimidated him into meeting someplace different. Or just earlier, fuck.” 

“Trust me,” Lucius says, voice coming just behind Ed’s shoulder. He and Izzy jump, turning to glare and the smirking lad. “It’s better for everyone involved that I didn’t send Izzy; Stede is as contrary as they come. Besides, it’s best we do what we can to avoid attracting the Badmintons’ attention,” Lucius explains. “Their preoccupation with Stede is unhealthy.” 

Wee John huffs in amusement, right behind him. “Obsession,” he corrects. “But they have to go home to their wives eventually.” 

“Which is unfortunate for their wives, but that’s what you get when you marry for money,” Frenchie says. 

Ed narrows his eyes skeptically. “And these Badmintons, who are they? Business rivals?” 

Lucius rolls his eyes. “Hardly. They wouldn’t know silk from satin. Stede described them as childhood bullies.” 

“Stede?” Izzy sneers. 

Frenchie strikes a discordant chord on his lute. “Oi! Don’t make fun of Mr. Bonnet’s name!” 

“Yes, Israel,” Lucius teases, dragging the feather end of his quill under Izzy’s chin. “Don’t poke fun at Stede.” 

Edward sees an argument in the making and quickly redirects the conversation. “So, what, they can’t let go of a grudge?” 

“If anyone should have a grudge, it’s Mr. Bonnet,” Wee John chimes. “Nasty feckers.” 

Lucius perks up. “Personally,” he begins, leaning forward with an air of mystery. “I think that one of them tried to ask Stede’s father for his hand and they were turned down.” 

Frenchie’s face wrinkles in distaste. “Really?” 

“Oh, for sure. I grew up in Bridgetown. The late Mr. Bonnet was a ‘conservative’ man, if you will. He wouldn't've settled for anything less than a traditional match—despite the fact the entire world could see the only time Stede was interested in a woman was when he was looking at what she was wearing.”

Ed rubs his forehead, looking back to monitor the progress of the wagon Lucius had returned with after meeting Bonnet. “What does this have to do with us offloading this fucking fabric?” 

“Because,” Lucius drawls. “The Badmintons’ obsession with Stede is the reason he asked us to come to the estate. He uses the guesthouse as a second office for the shop. He and Mary worked out a signal for if someone has come to visit that perhaps shouldn’t see some of their side projects, especially since the Badmintons are Royal Navy scum.” 

Izzy slaps a hand to his thigh in exasperation at the mention of another player. “Who the fuck is Mary?”  

“His wife,” Frenchie says.

Wee John nudges him. “Ex-wife.” 

“They got divorced as soon as Stede’s father died,” Lucius explains, cutting off further questioning. “Like I said earlier; his father wanted a ‘traditional’ marriage for his son—wife, male heir, that whole thing. As soon as he kicked the bucket, Stede and Mary made an amicable split and started this little venture.” 

Ed grimaces, remembering his parents’ own unhappy marriage. “And they still live together?” 

“In a forty-room manor—with a guest house,” Lucius deadpans, pointing ahead of them to the “guest house” that has finally come into view. 

If the great house looming ahead of them in the darkness has forty rooms, this thing must hold at least ten by comparison. Ed can see lights faintly flickering on the bottom floor of the two-story guest house. 

“Christ,” Ed remarks. “Who needs all this space?” 

“Enough fucking gossip,” Izzy gripes. “Let’s offload these damn fire hazards to make room for some actual worthwhile cargo.” 

Wee John shakes his head. “You’re underestimatin’ how much a nice cashmere can go fer,” he says. “Stede’s gonna lose ‘is mind when he sees that maroon silk.” 

“Sooner we offload this shit, the sooner we can put this place to our rudder,” Ed says. “I don’t like being in Royal Navy waters.” 

Lucius chuckles. He carefully closes his quill within his sketchbook. “If you say so.” 

Ed stops walking and crosses his arms across his chest peevishly. “Something I should know?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Lucius denies. “I just think that the pair of you might hit it off, that’s all.” 

Ed snorts, continuing towards the guest house artfully decorated with climbing vines. “What would I find in common with some fancy aristocrat?” 

Lucius smirks. “That same thing Izzy and I have in common.” 

“Not fuckin’ likely.” 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” Lucius mocks. “I know your type.” 

Izzy scoffs, scowling at Lucius. “Edward’s type is someone that commits arson for fun, not some fuckin’ tailor.” 

“Uh, you can be both,” Frenchie says, pointing to Wee John. 

Izzy just glares. 

“I wouldn’t put a bit of friendly arson past our dear Mr. Bonnet,” Lucius quips. “But I do think sabotage is more his style. The man loves a good fuckery.” 

Further discussion is halted as they reach the brick house in front of them. Wee John breaks off and heads to the window of a dimly lit room. He knocks on the glass in a peculiar pattern before he, Lucius, and Frenchie all clamber up the stairs like excitable puppies that have just caught a glimpse of their favorite person. 

Ed refuses to examine the bitter pang of jealousy that throbs in his chest at the sight. 

Izzy frowns mightily at the picture the three of them make. “Ridiculous,” he mutters, turning to continue to track the progress the rest of the crew is making with the cart. 

It’s loaded to the brim with bolts and bolts of luxurious cloth Ed has spent a fair amount of time running his fingers over, admiring the way they shined in various lights. The maroon silk Wee John mentioned was the same color as the only pair of earrings Edward’s mother had owned. 

“Don’t be jealous, Iz,” Ed teases, distracting himself from the mix of feelings churning in his gut. 

“Fuck off, Edward,” Izzy growls. “Don’t have shit to be jealous of.”

The door to the colonial-style home cracks open before swinging wide. Anything the stranger says or does in greeting is lost in the din of the trio on the steps. Curious, Ed sidles forward, hands buried in the pockets of his leather jacket as he watches part of his crew bounce on their toes with excitement. 

The arms surrounding Wee John recede after a series of firm pats before reappearing around Frenchie’s middle. Ed’s only impression thus far is a riot of curling blond hair visible over Frenchie’s shoulders and voluminous off-white sleeves. 

Finally, his crew quiets enough to hear a soft-spoken posh accent. “Lucius, my boy,” it gushes. “It’s so very good to see you.” 

Ed can picture Lucius’ false-modest expressions despite his back being turned. “Oh, stop! You just saw us this afternoon!” 

“Yes, but it’s been ages since you were last in town! And all of you together, might I add! It’s lovely to be able to see all your faces at once. I’ve practically been useless all afternoon for how excited I’ve been to see you again!” 

Frenchie snorts, his tone wry. “You just couldn’t wait to get your hands on the fabric we lifted.” 

“Two things can be true at once, my dear,” Bonnet chides. 

Lucius turns toward Ed wearing a smirk that he wants to wipe off the boy's smug face. “Introductions!” he trills, the stranger still obscured by the bodies of Frenchie and Wee John. “Stede Bonnet, meet Captain Edward Teach, more colloquially known as Blackbeard. Captain, Mr. Stede Bonnet, also known as the Gentleman Smuggler.” 

“ Please, Lucius. No one calls me that!” 

“That’s ‘cause no one knows you're the one responsible for supplying all the lonely wives of Bridgetown with their ‘romance novels’,” Wee John says. 

“Not just the wives—and I’d prefer it to stay that way. Now, move! It’s terribly rude to greet someone without looking them in the eye.” 

Before Ed can begin to dissect that, elegant hands part Wee John and Frenchie like curtains, rings sparkling on his fingers, to reveal one Stede Bonnet. Blond curls frame an animated face with dark, smiling eyes. Ed would put him around his own age thanks to the charming laugh lines that accentuate his features. He’s a tad shorter than Ed, with a proud bearing and strong-looking shoulders pushed back in confidence.

His pristine white sleeves had fooled Ed into thinking he was just another buttoned-up rich bastard, but he’s going to have to admit that Lucius was right; this man is his type. Something about him screamed this fancy-lookin’ bloke was absolutely bananas, and it isn’t just the bright yellow pocket square or tangerine-colored trousers. 

The man looked like a treat. From his fuck-off bright clothes to the little bows on his shoes, Ed is captivated. 

Ed doesn’t know if it’s wishful thinking or a trick of the moonlight, but Bonnet almost looks a little flustered as he strides forward and thrusts his hand out in greeting. Ed briefly considers pressing a kiss to the back of his hand but immediately dismisses it as something Calico Jack might do. 

Instead, he focuses on the soft skin he can feel through his fingerless gloves and the surprisingly strong grip. Bonnet beams at him. “A pleasure to meet you!” 

Not yet it isn't. “Likewise.” 

“The lads were regaling me with tales of your most recent exploits,” says Bonnet. “I understand it was a bit of a disappointment to you, but I can’t say that I’m not grateful for such a windfall! All my current inventory has been feeling despairingly drab after an entire season's use.” 

Ed shrugs. He gives the back of Bonnet’s hand a final caress with his thumb before taking his hand back. “Sure, mate. Just glad to not have to sell it at a loss.” 

Bonnet looks aghast. “Certainly not! I may not always do business above board, but I’m no swindler.” 

“Which is remarkable, since most men that have the money to pay full price are the cheapest bastards I know,” Lucius drawls, swanning over to stand at Bonnet’s side. 

Ed smiles, but his eyes are promising hell to pay if Lucius makes one smart comment in Bonnet’s earshot. “How do you think they get rich?” he asks. 

Before Lucius can respond, Bonnet turns to him with his own sharp grin. “Is that why you were going to try to con me out of house and home when we first met?” 

Lucius’ face freezes as Frenchie whirls on Wee John. “You told him?!” 

“I never!” 

“Now, now!” Stede intercedes, giving all parties involved an amused look. “Let’s be civil, gentleman. Wee John didn’t betray your confidence.” 

Lucius’ eyes narrow, managing to look both sullen and shamed at once. “How could you tell?” 

Stede crosses his arms over a chest Ed is having a hard time not objectifying. “I’ll give you points for creativity; no one had ever tried to sell me a pyramid before. I do, however, know a goodly number of people that seem to think they own bridges in England.” 

“Shoulda known,” Frenchie laments. “Soon as we realized you were the one smuggling in all the naughty books.” 

“Among other things!” Stede defends. “You needn’t make it sound so sordid. Most things deemed contraband by church and state are perfectly mundane. They tax the devil out of anything not of English make.” 

Stede is visibly flustered at the topic of conversation. The dark of night mutes the red suffusing his cheeks but his fair skin can’t hide his blush entirely, which bodes well for the future.

Still, his responding smile is a smidge tense as he addresses Ed. “I’m sure you don’t want to spend all evening hearing about the illicit materials I procure for the good residents of Bridgetown.”

Good Christ. Yes, I do. 

“How’s a dressmaker smuggle in goods?” Izzy asks snidely. 

Ed barely manages to repress a sigh as Lucius steps in. “And this is First Mate Israel Hands,” he introduces. “Izzy, this is my very good friend Stede Bonnet. 

Stede extends his hand towards Izzy with much less enthusiasm than he did when greeting Edward. His face is awash with the type prissy derision Ed has come to expect from the fancy fucks forced to rub elbows with the general populace. 

Izzy and Stede barely touch palms before they are drawing their hands back, Izzy going so far as to rub his hand against his trousers. Stede meets the glare that has cowed hardened sailors on more decks than Ed can count, completely unintimidated. 

“Charmed,” Stede drawls. 

Izzy snorts. “I’m sure. Now answer the question, Bonnet; how does a tailor manage to smuggle in goods?” 

“You’d be amazed by how much fits in a bustle,” Stede replies. “And I’m a couturier, not a tailor. Iggy.” 

“Izzy.” 

Bonnet hums vaguely in response. His face transforms when he meets Edward’s gaze again, and Ed is going to allow himself to believe he’s the cause. “Let’s conduct our business indoors! I just got a lovely blend of tea I’ve been dying to try and this is the perfect occasion.” 

He turns to Wee John and Frenchie. “If you lads wouldn’t mind—” 

“‘Course,” Wee John says. “We remember how it’s done.” 

Stede claps his hands together in excitement. “Excellent! Lucius, if you’ll join me in making tea?” 

“Join you?” Lucius asks, scowling. “I think you meant to say, ‘Lucius, can you make tea while I lecture you about your life choices up to and including your taste in men?’?” 

Stede pats Lucius’ shoulder with a saccharine expression. “You said it, dear boy, not me.” 

Lucius sucks his teeth in irritation before stomping inside. Stede’s eyes crinkle with the force of his smile as he turns back to Ed. “You are, of course, welcome to join us inside anytime—”

“I’m getting out the bone china!” Lucius calls, a metallic ringing sound following shortly thereafter. 

Stede huffs, face morphing in umbrage as he races after Lucius. “Don’t you dare!” 

Ed watches Stede flit into the house, eyes glued to the seat of his tangerine trousers and shapely legs until they disappear. Distraction out of sight, Ed finds Frenchie crawling through the window Wee John had tapped on earlier. The wagon is hauled to the window, filled to the brim with the fabrics Ed had been cursing earlier; now, he wants nothing more than to toss Bonnet over the lot and have his way with him. 

Catching Izzy’s eye, Ed scowls at the unimpressed stare of his first mate. “You can’t be serious,” Izzy hisses.

“Don’t fuckin’ judge me, mate,” says Ed. “Did I give you shit about Lucius?” 

“Yes,” Izzy spits. “Since you need reminding. Don’t even get me started on Jack.” 

“You gave me just as much grief over Jack as I gave you.” 

Izzy pauses, crossings his arms over his chest with a mulish expression. “Fine, we’re even on the front. But this guy? C’mon, Edward. He’s a frilly toff that sells the smut they pass around in brothels!” 

“Exactly!” Ed laughs. “He’s a fussy blond fop that peddles porn! And it’s no wonder those navy bastards want a taste—he looks like a little candy! The fancy sugar ones that they make in little loops and shit.” 

Izzy rolls his eyes. “The prissy shit probably won’t even let you under his skirts so soon.” 

“Half the fun is tryin’, Iz,” he goads. “Don’t tell me you've become a quick shot in your old age?” 

Instead of outrage, Ed manages to get a reluctant smile out of the man. “If I was, everyone on board would know. Lucius would never keep something like that quiet.” 

“Fair enough.” 

Izzy sighs. “Bad idea to mix business with pleasure. Last thing we need is for Bonnet to get missish and rat us out to the navy dogs panting after him.” 

Ed slings a companionable arm over Izzy’s shoulders, drawing him towards the inviting glow of the open door. “I’ll wait until after we’re done offloading the goods,” he swears, holding off on reminding Izzy he mixes business with pleasure every damn day. 

Izzy immediately strides off into the guest house in search of the room the bolts of fabric are being unloaded into. Amid the clattering of Lucius and Bonnet in the kitchen and the racket his crew is making, Edward attempts to take in the mind-boggling amount of bits and baubles within view. 

An old portrait sits alongside the bust of a mermaid, tits out and laden with jewels. Ed can spot a sword mounted on the wall next to a ten-point buck, its antlers dripping with strings of pearls. Above his head hangs, not one, but two chandeliers—and Ed is pretty sure the peach lacy bits he can see swaying from one set of dangling crystals is a pair of ladies’ knickers! 

“Fuckin’ brilliant,” he mutters. 

Slowly circling in place, Ed chuckles in disbelief at the absurd ornamentation that decorates every surface his eye can see. With each pass of his eyes, there's something new to discover. Eventually, Ed can resist no longer; he has to touch. 

His attention is caught by an embroidered velvet robe that looks like it could belong to a princess or a prostitute. The garment hangs from a coat rack in decadent pools of maroon velvet—the same shade of his mother’s earrings—and feels finer than any fur Ed has touched. Tropical birds and flowers are picked out in shining thread, the inside lined in silk of the same color.

Ed rubs the hem of a sleeve between his fingers the way he remembers his mother rubbing at her rosary. 

“Marvelous, isn’t it?” 

Ed glances sideways, barely removing his eyes from the robe, to see Bonnet standing next to him with a similarly awed look on his face. “You make this?” 

“Heavens, no,” Bonnet says. He’s got a delicate cup of tea balanced on a tiny plate with gilded edges in either hand. “I haven’t the patience for such remarkable needlework.” 

Ed takes the tea pressed into his hand and finds it prepared exactly the way he likes. “Don’t tell me you can guess how a man takes his tea by looking at him?” 

“Afraid not,” he says, eyes sparkling in amusement. “Lucius took the liberty of preparing your tea this time—but a good host never forgets! I’ll remember for next time; ‘a dollop of milk and seven sugars’.” 

Sometime between preparing tea and finding Ed fondling his decor, Bonnet has draped himself in a robe of a different style. Ed finds his fingers tangling in the fabric of the robe’s wide sleeves before he makes the conscious decision to do so. The feel of silk warmed by Bonnet’s skin makes Ed’s mouth water. 

Stede eyes him eagerly. “Do you fancy a fine fabric?”

There isn’t a hint of mockery in his voice, no trace of disgust on his striking face as a pirate touches him or his pretty things. Regardless, Ed unknots his fingers from Bonnet’s sleeve and turns to the robe once more. “I think maybe I do.” 

“Oh, then you must try it on!” Stede insists, taking Ed’s cup from his hands to set it on the nearby table alongside his own. 

Ed snorts, trying to wave away the offer. In truth, the only thing he wants to do more than wear the princely piece of clothing is to bend this man over the back of the nearest settee—strike that, he wants to behind him over the nearest settee while wearing the robe. 

Bonnet dismisses his protests, lifting the maroon velvet from the coat rack. “I promise you, it’s an experience you won’t regret—though you may want to take off your jacket, to get the full effect.” 

“Right,” Ed says, shrugging out of his leather jacket and hanging it on the peg the robe had occupied. 

Unbothered by a pirate in his home and wearing his clothes, Stede Bonnet is an anomaly Ed is looking forward to unraveling, in every sense of the word. For now, Stede has the garment held open as if he means to help him put it on, like some fancy bloke that needs a man to help him get dressed in the mornings. 

“This is much more your color,” he continues, smoothing his hands across Ed's shoulders to settle the cloth correctly. “Of course, it’s lovely enough on its own to suit just about anyone, but the way it compliments your coloring is far lovelier than the way it brings out all the red in my complexion.”

Bonnet gently spins Ed in his arms, reaching around his back to grab the sash and secure the robe around his waist. “There,” he breathes. He steps back to take Edward in with a warm smile. “Look a that. You wear fine things well.” 

Ed's breath leaves him in a rush at the earnest compliment. His lip twitches upwards in a weak grin. “You would know,” he muses, lightly swaying towards the blond man on the balls of his feet. 

“I suppose I would,” Stede replies, voice slightly strained and breathy. 

The nearby lantern allows Ed to appreciate Bonnet’s cheeks flushing pink. He can see Stede’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly before turning away to retrieve their nearly-forgotten tea. 

The aristocrat appears more at ease with something to occupy his hands, more confident with a weak barrier between the strange intimacy created by helping Ed slide into a waterfall of velvet and silk—but he hadn’t looked frightened. 

Ed nearly growls when he hears Izzy’s voice calling for him, shattering the tension between him and Bonnet before Ed can capitalize on it and work it into something that suited his plans for the gentleman in front of him. 

“Edward! Where the fuck did you get to? The lads are fin—oh, fer Christ’s sake.” 

He rolls his head towards Izzy, scowling lightly. “Izzy,” he drawls. “We were just coming to find you.” 

“I’m sure,” Izzy says, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Izzy’s tone made Ed want to put on every ridiculous, shiny thing he could find, just to vex him further. He’s eyeing a feathered cavalier hat and contemplating putting it on when Stede speaks. 

“Lucius mentioned you like a bitter brew, so we let it steep for longer. There’s lemon in the kitchen, should you like it, Iggy—though I’m afraid it’s not the bitterest thing under this roof at the moment.” 

Izzy’s eye ticks in anger. “It’s Izzy, you twat, and you damn well know it.” 

“Terribly sorry,” he says, his face and tone implying that he was anything but. Looking at Edward, Bonnet’s haughty demeanor fades into warmth. “Let’s have a look at those bolts, shall we?” 

Ed watches Bonnet precede him down the hall before he claps a hand on Izzy’s shoulder. He leans close to keep his words private. “Don’t fuckin’ ruin this for me, Iz,” he hisses. “He’s like some mad little magpie that smuggles smut—he has a better hoard than most pirates!” 

“He’s a fuckin’ ponce,” Izzy hisses back. “What kind of smuggler worth his salt just has his goods out in plain sight?” 

A snort comes from the direction of the kitchen. Lucius is holding a cup of dark tea with a few lemon wedges arranged on the side. “One that knows the average person can’t tell real from counterfeit,” he says. “Almost everything is fake, with a few exceptions. Since they aren’t genuine, they aren’t technically contraband. And anyone that brought such things to light would have to explain how they could identify real from counterfeit, thus opening themselves to scrutiny.” 

He hands Izzy his cup with a cheeky smirk. “It’s one of Stede’s favorite ways to blackmail someone.” 

Ed stares down the hall, Stede having long since disappeared into whatever room the goods were in. He turns back to Lucius to mutter out a question. “On a scale of one to ten, how likely is he to run me through if I try to get into his fancy knickers?” 

Izzy grumbles under his breath, squeezing the lemon wedges into his tea with more force than necessary while Lucius beams triumphantly. “I think he’d rather be the one getting ‘run through’ if you catch my drift.” 

“Bless,” Ed says, pressing his hands together as if in prayer. He gives Izzy a slap on the back as he turns to stalk down the hall and find Bonnet. “Come find us when you’re done fuming.” 

Ed follows the sound of voices down the corridor towards the open doorway. Light spills out into the hall, and Edward gives himself a quick once-over in the huge oval mirror hanging just before the entrance to the room filled with his crew’s laughter. 

He looks a mite too buttoned up for his tastes, so he loosens the robe until it is barely being held closed over his leathers and purple shirt. Ed strolls into the room like it belongs to him, as he always does, and deliberately doesn’t look to see if his crew reacts to his new look. 

Instead, he keeps his eyes on Stede, perched on the edge of a gargantuan desk with his legs tucked to the side and crossed at the ankles. Ed catches the quick up-and-down Bonnet gives him before he tries to hide his gaze behind a long sip of tea. 

The room is a hectic hoard of things Ed only barely recognizes as sewing supplies. Every dress form is covered in half-finished designs, each more elaborate than the last. The space around him feels alive with color and texture—and Ed wants to devour the man who created it, to crack open his skull and divine the colorful contents like a soothsayer.

There's an armchair left unoccupied in all the chaos for Ed to sprawl across. He does so, draping one leg over the arm of the chair and resting the elbow of the hand holding his tea on his knee. 

He glances at the bolts of fabric awaiting appraisal and back to Stede, raising his brow in question. “Like what you see?” 

His crew reacts in varying degrees of exasperation, though none of them reach a level of disrespect to challenge his authority. Mostly they act like Ed had when he thought his mother was embarrassing him in front of people he wanted to impress—which was partially true, Ed supposes. He certainly has a vested interest in Stede finding him alluring 

For his part, Stede’s eyes widen and he hops off the desk, landing on his feet with a click! of his heeled shoes. He sweeps across the room in a swish of mint silk. 

“Absolutely!” Stede chirps brightly. His fingers flutter across the mounds of fabric like an excited little bee, unable to decide which flower to pollinate first. “These are exquisite—really, just stunning. I’m sorry to hear that they were so troublesome to obtain, of course, but let’s see about recouping those losses, hmm?”

Ed loses himself in the excited rise and fall of Bonnet’s voice and gasps of delight as he sorts through miles and miles of cloth. Piles form on nearly every surface, grouping the bolts of fabric in some way Ed is not privy to. 

Lucius and Izzy appear a few moments into Stede excitedly describing the process by which silk is created, his first mate refusing to come further into the room than the doorframe. The crew drifts outside until it’s just Frenchie and Wee John that remain in the workspace alongside Lucius and Stede. Izzy's eyes follow Lucius as he seamlessly falls back into the role of bookkeeper for the ridiculous, delicious Stede Bonnet. 

Ed manages to catch Izzy’s eye. He looks marginally more relaxed, likely thanks to some seductive promises in return for his cooperation. Ed sets his empty cup on the mantle as he crosses the room to lean against the wall near his first mate. 

He gestures to the silhouettes of the crew visible from the window. “Don’t think most of the crew needs to be here now that the goods have been moved,” he says, offering him an out. 

Izzy snorts. “Not a chance I’m leaving until your amateur smuggler coughs up the coin,” he drawls, gesturing to the crew at large, unguarded and distracted as they lounge across the Gentleman Smuggler’s lavish furnishings and roughhousing outside. “Someone has to be on guard.” 

“You’re gonna leave me to my own defenses?” Ed teases. 

Rolling his eyes, Izzy crosses his arms across his chest. “Not gonna stand guard just for you to get your dick wet, you twat. I’m not Calico Jack.” 

“Probably a good thing. Jack would want a piece of the action, and I don’t much feel like sharing.”

A flask materializes in Izzy’s hands. “Wish you’d keep that same energy when you come back to the ship and want to crow about your escapade.” 

“If wishes were fishes…” Ed muses, giving Izzy a nudge as he makes his way across the room to where Stede and Lucius are conferring over a ledger. 

Bonnet is wearing spectacles, likely produced from somewhere within his voluminous robe. They’re dainty gold-rimmed things that sit on the end of his nose and Ed can’t decide whether he’d prefer to tear them off Bonnet’s face and toss them across the room or see them fog up with passion. 

“Well?” he asks. “Was it worth the beatin’ we took to get ‘em?” 

Lucius huffs. “Emotionally? No. Financially? Definitely.” 

“Really, you stumbled onto such a treasure!” Stede enthuses. His face goes sly, eyes glittering, mouth quirked in a mean little grin that Ed wants to taste. “I can’t wait to charge Badmintons’ account for the gowns their wives are sure to commission with such a selection.” 

Lucius cackles in glee as Wee John and Frenchie chuckle in the background. “I can only imagine their faces if they knew how much money they actually contributed to your pocket. Are Helena and Rose still some of your most loyal customers?” 

“More than ever,” Bonnet replies. “I think Rose particularly gets a kick out of knowing the wigs Nigel has been sporting are French make. And Chauncey will tell anyone that will listen he’ll only drink ‘good British tea’ when Helena has been brewing a lovely Pekoe that ‘falls off’ of a Spanish Brigantine for nearly two years.” 

Stede turns his smiling face toward Ed and startles. “Oh! But you don’t didn’t come here to listen to me blather on about Bridgetown’s contraband commerce. How does this figure sound to you?” 

He tears a piece of parchment from his ledger and passes it to Ed, elegantly held between his index and middle finger. Ed can feel his brows head for his hairline at the number written on the parchment. 

Ed lets out a low, impressed whistle. “Maybe we've been after the wrong cargo all along,” he remarks, holding the paper out for Izzy’s perusal. 

Izzy pushes off the doorjamb and reluctantly joins him at Bonnet’s side. He looks the figure over, face a careful mask of disinterest. Ed might have believed it, had he known his first mate any less, but the prolonged pause as Izzy stares at the figure on the paper says more than words ever could. 

Their eyes meet, Izzy nodding imperceptively, and Ed turns to Stede with a grin. “You have yourself a deal.” 

“Fab!” Stede beams. “Now, would you like that entirely in coin? I have a good amount of jewels as well." 

“Both’re good,” Ed says, Bonnet already reaching under the lip of the desk to pull a velvet-lined tray from below. 

He tucks it under his arm and heads for a nearby dress form draped in a half-completed gown. Tugging the gown up and off the mannequin, Stede carefully drapes it across a nearby chair. “Terribly sorry about this, my dear,” he mutters, smoothing away wrinkles with a delicate hand.

Ed is enamored, if a little confused. 

Holding a spot on the neck of the dress form, Bonnet presses his hand to the chest until there is an audible click. The ribcage opens to display an array of glittering gems hidden within. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Ed breathes. He strides forward, eagerly examining the dressform. 

Stede practically twinkles with excitement, only dulled by Lucius smirking in the background. “Do you like?” he asks. 

“Fuckin’ brilliant,” Ed says. 

He dismisses Ed’s praise with a bashful shrug of his shoulders. “This is just a little something I worked out on a lark,” he says, laying loose stones and jewelry onto the velvet. “I had to get creative to hide things.” 

Lucius takes the tray from Stede so he can close the mannequin and replace the dress before moving to another, larger tailor’s dummy. This one is decked out in a man’s coat, deep green with golden stitching. 

Instead of opening outward at the ribs, the top portion of the chest slides off after Bonnet presses somewhere to release the locking mechanism. Bags of money are hidden within, the metallic jingling of coins being jostled muted thanks to whatever thick fabric lines the inside of the form. 

“You still color code the bags?” Lucius asks.

Stede scoffs. “It makes it easier to pay large sums!” he defends, cradling the black bags in his arm like you would cradle a child. “It’s just more efficient!”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t!” 

They bicker to the desk where Stede deposits the bags with a grunt. Izzy is examining the gems with an appraiser’s eye and his look of begrudging respect tells Ed they have not been found wanting. 

Stede mutters under his breath, calculating the money on the table before heading to a nearby bookcase. The shelves are filled with books and tools of his trade as well as a great many knickknacks Ed has come to expect in their short acquaintance. 

There's a little doll that looks like it could be a miniature version of Stede himself situated amongst a doll of a woman and two small children. He pulls the doll of a little girl forward and a side panel opens next to the bookcase. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ed mutters, crossing to peer at the edges of the panel. “How do you keep all these little spots straight in your head?” 

“Time, mostly,” Stede says. “And I keep a list in the main inventory room.” 

“Where the fuck is that?” 

Bonnet closes the wooden panel, edges blending seamlessly into the design carved into the wood. Jeweled necklaces and a few strings of pearls dangle and clack together in his fist and Ed imagines fucking him in nothing but that, strands of jewelry clacking together in time with the thrust of Ed’s hips. 

He nods toward the dolls again. “Push the one in the blue coat backward,” he instructs, adding the necklaces to the velvet tray. He arches an imperial brow at Izzy. “I think this will cover it?” 

Izzy nods, glaring. “Aye,” he growls. 

And then Ed doesn’t care, because the bookcase to his left clicks, the shelf swinging outward a few inches. He pushes it open with a breathless laugh and is immediately hit with the strong scent of tea. 

Ed can barely identify a handful of things in the soft light of the workroom but the shadowed outlines tell of a generous stash.

“You know, I think I just had a great idea,” Lucius boasts. Judging from his tone, Ed figures there is an equal chance of his next words being brilliant or bullshit. “Stede, you should give us a list of things you and the good people of Bridgetown are in need of. Perhaps we can do business together more often?” 

Brilliant, then. 

Stede looks delighted by the concept; Izzy, less so. Ed can’t bring himself to care. He’ll give Lucius just about anything his bitchy little heart desires if he gets Izzy and the rest of the crew out of this room in the next five minutes. 

“Not a bad idea,” Ed replies, feigning nonchalance as he rejoins the group clustered around the desk. He smiles at Bonnet, letting some of the heat that's been racing through his blood show in his smile and mellow his voice. “Why don’t we talk it over?” 

Bonnet perks up at the request. Excitement and uncertainty play across his face. “I-I’d like that.” 

“Love that for you,” Lucius chimes. “But no reason for all of us to stick around while you hash out the details, yeah?” 

Bless Lucius and his meddling mind.

“Nah,” Ed replies. “No sense waitin’ around. I know how to make my way back to the ship.” 

Izzy scowls at Bonnet. “We know where to find you if you don’t.” 

Stede’s form is swallowed by the trio that remained behind, bidding him goodbye, pulling him into embraces, and passing him around like a flagon of ale while Izzy broods. 

“It’s not that bad,” Ed sing-songs. He tosses an arm across Izzy’s shoulders, turning them toward the door. “It’ll be a good thing; won’t have to worry so much about finding buyers for the more of the ‘commonplace’ stuff, yeah?” 

“I know,” Izzy grits. “That doesn’t mean he’s not an insufferable twat.” 

Ed snorts. “I think the pair of you will warm up to one another,” he declares. “Just got off on a bad foot.” 

Izzy gives him a baleful look. “And you’re just saying that because you want to get off on him,” he mutters. 

“Like you’re not going to go do the same when you get back to the ship,” he retorts. 

Izzy doesn’t rise to the bait, instead waiting next to the open doorway until the rest of the crew follows, Bonnet following to shut the door in their wake. “If you’re not back an hour before dawn, I’m coming to find you,” Izzy threatens, staring directly at Bonnet. 

Lucius links their arms together and drags him down the hall with a roll of his eyes. “Yes, yes. You are the best first mate in the Caribbean. Calm down. Worry less about having to fetch Ed and more about having to prevent Stede from coming along.” 

Izzy blanches at the thought, and that catty little gleam is back in Bonnet’s eyes. “Oh, I have always wanted to run away to the sea,” he swoons, chuckling as Izzy shakes Lucius’ arm free to stomp the rest of the way down the hall. 

He shares a look of amusement with Ed in the doorway. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back in a tick.” 

Ed wastes no time doing just that. He plops on the settee and rests a booted foot on the cushioned seat, spreading his arms across the back and stretching until his back pops. He collapses back into the cushions, attempting to paint an alluring tableau for when Bonnet returns. 

He’s not sure how to best approach seducing the candy-colored man. Lucius’ remarks made it clear Bonnet’s interest did not lie with women, and the way he flushed under Ed’s stare made it clear he wasn’t averse to the charms of a pirate—but flirting and fucking were two different beasts. 

The front door closes. Ed runs through the successful encounters he’s had in the past and quickly comes to the conclusion that he’s actually done very little intentional seduction. He can—and has—charmed the pants off pirates and whores and sailors and anyone else that can be found near a dock or in a port, but a great deal of them had been sure things from the start. 

A knowing look, a suggestive statement, and that was it. The seduction was just a game at that point, and his win was guaranteed; that was not the case with Bonnet. 

The man in question appears in the doorway, looking a bit fresher than when he had left—almost as if he had nipped off for a moment in front of a mirror and washbasin. He has a pair of crystal glasses in one hand and a bottle of deep amber liquid in the other. 

Ed’s calculated sprawl across the settee has the intended effect. The gentleman’s expression goes gratifyingly unfocused before the beaming, cheerful mask settles back on his face. “I thought something a bit more fortifying than tea might be appropriate,” he explains, hefting the ornate decanter. 

“Cheers, mate,” Ed replies, tracking Stede’s movement across the room. He turns to the side, hoping to goad the man into joining him on the settee rather than in one of the armchairs. “This more of your smuggled goods?” 

Bonnet does indeed join him on the plush seating, back straight as he crosses his legs at the ankles, knees towards Ed as he delicately sits on the edge of the cushion. “It is,” Stede says. He hands Edward a glass and removes the carved crystal stopper with a clink! “A rather fine brandy I couldn’t bear to part with.” 

The sweet, fruity scent of the brandy makes Ed’s mouth water but something about the crystal stopper holds his attention. Ed plucks the crystal from Bonnet’s hands, letting the tips of his fingers whisper across Bonnet’s hand more than necessary. 

Holding the stopper to the light of the fire, Ed realizes it’s carved into the shape of a rose in bloom. The bottle is set on the low table in front of them, settling on the wood with a heavy sound that speaks of luxury as Stede toys with his own glass self-consciously. “It’s a bit much, I know,” he says, nodding to the crystal rose in Ed’s hand. 

“Pfft, ” Ed rejects. He makes a sweeping gesture at the room and its decor. “Love a bit of ‘too much’; less is boring.”

Stede’s eyes crinkle with the strength of his grin. “To men of taste,” he proposes, raising his glass in a toast. 

I’d like to know how you taste, he muses, tapping his glass to Stede’s with a click of his tongue and wink. The brandy is thick and sweet on his tongue, blazing a trail of fire down his throat to settle in his stomach. 

“How does a gentleman get involved in smuggling?” Ed asks. “Other than to call dibs on some damn good brandy.” 

Stede laughs, tucking a curl behind his ear bashfully. “It was a bit of an accident if you can believe it. Apparently, a nearby neighbor was looking to dip their toe into the water of illicit goods since the crown has been taxing anything not of British make to the point of despair. 

“Turns out, the contact had their son handle the dropoff and he was terrible with maps. They ended up at the edge of my property when I was out on a stroll looking for shells.” 

Ed huffs a laugh in disbelief. “Looking for shells in the middle of the night?” 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Stede explains, ears flushing red. “I found them unloading onto the shore and bluffed my way into keeping it. 

“I saw what it was and I offered to best their current seller's price—a fact she didn’t take too kindly at the time, but now I’d say we have a thriving partnership. Between her being an eccentric widow and me being regarded as a witless popinjay, it keeps anyone from looking too closely. Our only tie is my ex-wife, and the fools in Bridgetown severely undervalue her simply by virtue of being a divorced woman.” 

Ed snorts. “I can’t say I miss bullshit like that,” he drawls. “Sometimes I think ‘maybe I should pack it while I’ve still got all my bits’, but then I hear this shit and remember what drove me to sea to begin with.” 

“I can believe it,” Stede replies, voice soft. His expression grows wistful. “Lucius was joking earlier, the bit about me running away, but I can’t say I haven’t thought about it. I have the children—and Mary, of course—but being the butt of the joke is exhausting. 

“After our dear lads left shore and found their way to you, I never managed to replicate their friendship. Don’t get me wrong, it’s great fun deceiving the Badmintons of this world, but it is lonely.” 

Ed has a vision of Stede in his cabin, in his bed, on the deck of Queen Anne as his curls dance in the wind. “So run away,” Ed encourages. 

“Afraid my running days ended before they ever began,” Stede laments., removing his shoes as if to emphasize his inability to run.  “I feel a bit like a bird in a cage, screaming to be let out. By the time I realized I was no longer confined I’d forgotten any other way to live.” 

Ed gives up his staged nonchalance and scoots forward on the settee. Facing Stede with crossed legs, he cradles the crystal tumbler in both hands. “Old birds can learn new tricks,” replies Ed. “You taught yourself to smuggle—that’s already like, halfway to piracy.” 

Stede waves off his encouragement with a coy shrug. “I’m a bit too attached to my creature comforts,” he deflects. “I must admit to dipping into my own stock, truth be told—which brings us back to the point! We’re meant to be discussing business, not for me to wax poetic about my silly little struggles.” 

“And what keeps a gentleman smuggler in business?” Ed asks, resting his head on his palm. “Couldn’t exactly see what you had stashed away in the dark.” 

Stede makes an excited noise into his tumbler of brandy. “Let me show you!” he enthuses. 

He tops up their glasses before skittering across the room with a lit candle as Ed follows at a more sedate pace, admiring the swirl of Bonnet’s robe around his ankles. Ed’s chest does something strange at the sight of the excited glint in Stede’s eyes as he fusses with something inside the secret room. 

“There we are,” he breathes. His face is bathed in warm light, much more than a single candle should provide. He looks to Ed and then back into the room. “The lads were in just a few days ago, so things are a bit of a mess.” 

Inside, Ed finds a veritable feast for the senses. There are casks of wine and liquor, giant bags of tea and smaller, ornate boxes of rare blends. He can see a cabinet filled with glass bottles and jars, the top of that cabinet lined with ornate candleholders and silver-plated mirrors. Rolled-up rugs are propped up in the corner near the lantern throwing light all across the room thanks to the reflective plates lining the back. 

Stede picks his way across the cluttered room, pulling a chain from within his shirt. A key dangles from the fine gold links as Bonnet swallows a mouthful of brandy and sets his glass on a nearby crate.

The look on his face smacks of embarrassment that has Ed’s insides bubbling with delight. He smirks. “Hiding the good stuff?”

“There is a market for things of a more, ahem, indelicate nature?” Stede taps the wall with a knuckle. “This leads into the closet of the other room—well, the room inside the closet in the other room. For items that may be acquired discreetly. Mary usually takes care of this bit—you’ll, uh, see why.” 

Stede lifts part of the molding free to expose a lock. He fumbles the key, tittering breathlessly until it finally clicks and Stede slides a panel away to reveal a veritable treasure trove of raunchy goods. There are shelves with handwritten erotica and silky underthings—and that’s not even the best part.

Under a glass panel, neatly arranged on a backdrop of silk, are fake cocks in all shapes and sizes. Some are carved from wood with raised patterns of flowers, some made of what looks to be smooth or spiraling colored glass, even porcelain, each with a little color-coordinated vial nestled alongside. There is a row of rainbow bottles along the edge of the cabinet that Ed is willing to bet are more than simple almond or coconut oil.

It’s the fanciest sex shop in the fucking Caribbean—and it’s inside the closet of the frilliest, most delectable man Ed has ever seen.

Stede is talking, hands waving in jerky motions that betray his mortification, but Ed isn’t listening to whatever explanation he might be offering. 

“Fuck it,” he mutters, abandoning his brandy on the cabinet filled with cosmetics. Ed navigates his way across the hidden room in three strides and snatches Stede by the wrist. He whirls the man toward him and swallows his surprised little ‘Oh!’ as he kisses the embarrassed babbling off his lips. 

Stede doesn’t leave him wondering if his advance is unwelcome for long, his silk-clad arms draping over his shoulders as he melts against Ed’s chest. 

Their lips part far too soon for Ed’s liking as Stede pulls back to fill the air with more chatter. “Oh thank goodness,” he breathes. “I wasn’t sure if I was reading things right! Lucius told me you prefer men but that doesn’t mean—” 

“You’re the most interesting person I’ve met in years,” Ed declares. “Maybe ever. All your little ruffles and lace look like frosting and I wanna lick you like a dessert. I’ve been putting the moves on you all night.” 

Stede’s eyes narrow. “Is that why that Israel fellow was being such a sour bastard? I was under the impression he and Lucius—”

“They are,” Ed confirms. “He’s just a miserable cunt. It grows on you after a while.” 

“I’ll take your word for it.” 

Ed smirks and lets his hands travel down Stede’s back to grope his ass. “Rather you take more than my word.” 

“Oh, yes please,” Stede says, polite and sincere like Ed is offering him a cup of tea and not looking to bugger him in a crowded stock room filled with contraband and fake cocks. 

Before Ed can make good on that thought, Stede slips passed him. He tangles their fingers together as he goes and moves to pull Ed from the cluttered storage area and back into the workroom filled with shining fabrics and hidden stashes. 

Ed muscles him against the wall before he can get that far, greedily running his hands over the mint-colored silk shining in the lantern light. “Here,” he rasps. 

He rocks his thickening cock into Bonnet’s hip to emphasize his point. The slide of Ed’s hands over the Bonnet’s silk-clad body feels more indulgent than anything Ed has allowed himself in a long while. 

“You really do fancy a fine fabric,” Stede pants, baring his neck as Ed begins to trail biting kisses along his jaw. 

His tongue darts out to flick teasingly at the thin skin below Stede’s jaw. “I like this fabric, anyway,” Ed clarifies, digging his fingers into the delicious expanse of Stede’s back. “Like how you feel in it.” 

“I could say the same,” Stede replies, his voice breathy as he clings to Ed’s shoulders. “Maroon is your color. Getting you to wear it was a temptation I couldn’t resist, regardless of how the rest of the evening turned out.” 

Ed grins against Stede’s neck. “I’ve been thinking of fucking you in this robe since I got it on.”

Stede shudders in response to the slurred words pressed into his skin. “Please do,” he begs. “There’s oil behind you, in the cabinet.” 

“The one with all the dicks in it?” Ed asks. “Any of ‘em do anything fun?” 

The stuttering he’s met with tells Ed that some of those bottles are absolutely more than just plain oil. “I-I meant the cosmetics cabinet b-but yes, I suppose that one has, uh, the kind of oil we’ll need as well.” 

Ed darts forward to tangle their tongues together again before dragging Stede back to the obscene offerings. “Dip into any of this stock, Gentleman Smuggler?” 

“Perhaps once or twice,” Stede admits. 

The fingers of one hand dance above the glass cabinet while the other clutches Bonnet close. Ed takes in the bottles with eager eyes, kneading the skin of Stede’s lower back as his strong tailor’s— couturier’s—fingers tangle into the velvet across his shoulders. 

Ed wraps a knuckle against the locked case. “Gotta let me in,” he says, ducking down to purr into Bonnet’s ear. His breath hitches in response before he begins to pluck at the collar of his shirt for the chain that holds the key. 

Bonnet doesn’t bother to pull the chain off, simply bending down to fit the key into the locked case; it brings his head tantalizingly near Ed’s dick. Unable to resist, Ed waits until he pulls the key free of the lock before cupping the back of Stede’s head and steering him to press into the flesh of his stomach. 

Stede groans, barely hesitating before he falls to his knees. He pushes the lid to the case up with a clumsy hand until the hinges catch and hold it open for Ed’s perusal. Long fingers undo the tie of the velvet robe with the same reverence one might have for unwrapping a priceless gift. 

“Not the red,” Stede says, pushing the thick material away from Ed’s front. “Or the green. They, uh, aren’t great for penetration.” 

Ed nods, distracted by the sight of Stede pushing his shirt up to get at Ed’s trousers. Slipping the robe from his shoulders, Ed hangs it on the raised lid of the case so he can pull his shirt over his head. 

He balls up the simple purple fabric and lobs it into the workroom without paying attention to where it lands. Ed can’t look away from Stede looking at him, taking in his bare skin like it’s a work of art painted by one of the great masters and not a map of his mistakes decorated with splashes of ink. 

His palms trace up the sides of Ed’s waist until they encounter the bottom of his ribcage. Stede’s hands are as soft as the silk he’s wrapped in, apart from his fingertips, pricked into calluses by many hours of sewing and stitching and whatever else he did with those clever fingers. 

Ed shivers at the ticklish sensation of Stede going over any line of ink he can see while he fumbles to shove his arms back into the lush maroon velvet. The cool silk lining makes him shiver breathlessly as he takes in the sight of his tattooed skin against the embroidered robe. The sight intensifies the sensations of hugging leather and decedent velvet against his skin.

It’s intoxicating. 

Stede looks up at him, awestruck, his breath hot and tempting against Ed’s belly. “If embroidery can create anything half as lovely as you are to look at, perhaps I should take it up after all,” he remarks. 

“Careful, mate,” says Ed, low and warning. “Keep talkin’ like that and I’ll have no choice but to take you with me.” 

Eyes sparkling, Stede nuzzles into the skin above his leather trousers. “Think of what poor Israel would say,” he says, teasing just beneath the waistband with the tip of his tongue. 

Ed spears his gloved hand through blond curls and gathers them in a soft grip. He tilts Stede’s head back and notes the way his eyes flutter at the gentle tug. “He could say whatever he wanted,” Ed rumbles, hooking his thumb into Stede’s mouth to press against the slick muscle of his tongue. Ed cups Stede’s jaw with the same hand as he continues. “Doesn’t matter; I’m the captain. If I want to take a pretty blond tailor on my ship, I take a pretty blond tailor on my ship.” 

Stede moans against his fingers and doesn’t bother to correct him. Ed rubs the pad of his thumb against Stede’s tongue as he undoes the buckle securing his glove in place with his teeth before removing it entirely. 

Shoving it into his back pocket, Ed deftly flicks the fall front of his trousers open with his bared hand. Stede takes in the way his prick strains against his smallclothes with a needy sound and tries to press forward. Ed keeps him in place, sliding his thumb as far into Stede’s mouth as he can. 

Stede whines as Ed takes his time pulling his cock free of his clothes. He pumps his fist over his cock slowly, gently tugging the foreskin back to fully expose the crown. Even as flushed as Stede is, the red-purple of Ed’s prick is such a stark contrast against fair, freckled skin that it makes Ed groan. 

Ed shifts his fingers from Stede’s jaw to curl them around his cock instead, thumb still pressing to the heat of Stede’s tongue. He nudges the crown of his dick against Stede’s bottom lip and spears the fingers of his bare hand back through Bonnet’s hair. 

Stede makes a pleading sound against his thumb. He tilts his head to take his gloved finger as deep as he can, begging for Ed’s prick with dark, glazed eyes. Ed relents, slipping his thumb from Stede’s mouth and watching as a thin string of saliva stretches before snapping as the ruddy head of his prick takes its place. 

Shuffling closer on his knees, Stede flattens his tongue along the underside of his dick before curling to tease at the sensitive ridge of tissue below the head with the tip of his tongue. They both groan, Ed from Bonnet’s clever mouth and Stede from the fingers tightening in his hair. 

Ed lets go of his dick to deal with his other glove. He can feel the leather around his thumb has grown wet and soft from Bonnet’s mouth as he peels it off with his teeth and stuffs it with its twin. Stede’s callused fingertips end up on his hips, thumbs sweeping into the hollows of his hipbones as he slowly sinks his mouth onto Ed’s prick. He moves at a glacial pace, bobbing his head along Ed’s length as hazel eyes go heavy with pleasure. 

Ed would think Stede was being a wretched tease if it weren’t for the look of bliss on his face as he slowly sinks his mouth over Ed’s throbbing length. He readjusts his grip on Stede’s hair to get all ten greedy fingers tangled in curls that shine gold in the light from the lantern. 

As much as Ed wants to rut into the wet silk of Stede’s mouth, he restrains himself, content to let the hedonistic creature on his knees indulge how he likes—just as Ed intends to do later. 

The world narrows down to the wet sounds of Stede’s mouth and Ed’s bitten-off curses. Their breathing feels loud in the enclosed space of smuggled goods, the crackling of the fireplace barely audible over the sound of Ed’s blood pumping between his ears. 

Candleflame makes Stede’s eyes glitter up at him in the near-darkness, shielded from view by crates of fine wine and barrels of rum as he kneels at Ed’s feet. Huffing a breathless laugh, Ed cups a trembling hand to Bonnet’s cheek just to feel the width of his prick stretching Stede’s mouth wide. “I might fancy a fine fabric,” he rasps, velvet swaying decadently over the backs of Ed’s hands. “But not as much as you fancy sucking cock.” 

Stede shivers at Ed’s words. He sinks his mouth lower still, not pausing until Ed hits the back of his throat. Ed can feel him swallow, heat contracting deliciously around the engorged head of his prick. He grips Bonnet’s hair tighter, growling. “Or is it just my cock you like sucking so much?” 

Stede’s fingers tighten around the sharp jut of Ed’s hips as he hums in agreement. Ed’s next words are cut off as the head of his prick slips into the tight clench of Stede’s throat. Grunting, Ed reaches out to steady himself on a wine crate. The sharp edges dig into his hand, the slight sting heightening his pleasure as Stede trembles against his legs. 

Ed’s breath rattles out of him as Stede pulls back. He gasps softly as soon as the crown of Ed’s dick retreats enough for him to breathe once more. Stede pants against the spit-slick length of his prick for a few pounding heartbeats before taking a measured breath and sinking onto his dick again. 

Groaning, Ed tosses his head back in pleasure. A colored glint catches his eye, reminding him of the bottles he’s meant to be choosing from but can’t be fucked to care—not when all Ed can focus on is the way Stede languidly fucks his own throat with Ed’s cock. 

“How’d you get so good at this?” Ed asks, his voice soft and sibilant. “Does the Gentleman Smuggler have a gentleman caller? Or did you sample more of your own wares? Practice choking on one of these pretty fake cocks because you didn’t have the real thing, hmm?” 

He hauls Stede off his prick, a lance of heat spearing through him at the obscene muffled gagging sound as Ed drags his prick through the saliva building up in Stede’s mouth. Gasping, Stede blinks up at him dreamily. 

“Hmm?” Ed prompts. “Any lucky gentleman in Bridgetown get to have your pretty throat? Or do you do this to yourself and imagine someone on the other end of that fake prick?” 

Stede swallows thickly, nodding as much as he can while Ed has a fistful of his blond locks in his grasp. “Myself,” he rasps. “I do it to myself.” 

“Fuuuck,” Ed curses, urging Bonnet’s mouth over his length again. 

He goes with an eager hum that cuts off into a choked groan as Ed rocks forward to meet him. Instead of letting Bonnet lazily sink onto his prick, Ed sets the pace. He keeps his thrusts relatively slow and even, reveling in the soft, vulgar sucking sounds that make heat tangle in his gut. 

“You’ll be thinking about this next time, won’t you? I know I will,” Ed says. “Wanna fuckin’ ruin you for anyone else, get you aching to hear some ship with fancy goods got raided just so we might come back and you can have my dick again.” 

Stede’s arms wrap around Ed’s thighs, clutching at his legs, his hips, his ass, staring up at him with wet eyes. Ed can feel the hard bulge of Stede’s erection against his leg as he barely resists rutting against his leathers while he’s still trapped in his silk trousers and whining at Ed’s words.

“I’m not gonna be able to fuck someone else without thinking about you on your knees for me, ruining your stockings while you take my dick like you were made for it,” he continues. “Izzy won’t believe me when I tell him how sweet this mouth can be.” 

That one makes Stede moan, hips jerking against Ed’s leg. “I still want to fuck you, but first I’m gonna come in this pretty throat,” he says. “Touch yourself. Get off on my leg; whatever you want.” 

Then Stede is scrambling, yanking at laces and buttons and tugging his shirt out of his trousers until he can wrap those long, clever fingers around his own prick. Ed can see a small dark patch from where he strained against the tangerine-colored material, cock leaking just from Ed’s prick down his throat. 

“If I found you ten years ago, I’d be ready to spread you around my cock faster than you could catch your breath from sucking me,” Ed continues. “Maybe I should open you up on one of these naughty things until I can go again—it won’t take long, mind you, but I want to hear you how you sound stuffed full and strung out and I don’t feel like waiting .” 

Ed rocks into the wet heat of Bonnet’s throat faster as he moans around his prick. His eyes beg for more and Ed has every intention of giving it to him, even as his skin begins to prickle all over with his impending release. 

It feels like the anticipation of a lightning strike, every cell in Ed’s body screaming at him to move while his feet are tethered to the floor. All at once it rushes through him, sizzling down his extremities as he locks up. Wave after wave of ecstasy rolls through him as he savors the feeling of Stede’s nose pressed into his belly while he empties down his throat. 

Stede holds his eyes and moans, mouth stretched wide around the girth of him. His lips are glossy and red, cheeks streaked with wet tear tracks from the effort of taking Ed so deep. Ed continues to rock into Stede’s mouth, aftershocks becoming almost painful as Stede moans around his sensitive prick. 

Ed can see Stede’s hand working over his cock between his legs. His hips jerk each time Ed pushes his way into the wet clutch of Stede’s throat as his prick begins to soften. He buries Stede’s face in his belly and holds him there, cursing at the feeling of Stede going tense and groaning around him.

Ed’s breath gusts out of him with a final shock of pleasure and he gentles his hold on Stede’s hair. He slips off Ed’s prick with a gasp and sinks back onto his heels. In the space between them, Ed can see Stede is still hard, gripping the base of his prick desperately. 

“Fuck,” Ed breathes, panting. He runs his fingers through Stede’s hair, lightly dragging blunt nails across his tender scalp in soothing patterns. “Okay?” 

Stede seemingly produces a handkerchief from thin air, nodding as he dabs at the mess of drool across his chin and throat. “So very okay,” he rasps. 

Ed helps Stede to his feet and supports him as he sways, unsteady and lightheaded. Ed pulls him into a lazy kiss. Arousal swoops low in his stomach at the feeling of Stede’s hardness nudging against his stomach before sliding against his own prick, still mostly stiff and spit-slick from Stede’s mouth. 

He buries his hands in the flowing silk of Stede’s shirt, gathering it up in great handfuls to get at the laces in the back of his trousers. Ed makes quick work of loosening the silk strings crisscrossing at the small of Stede’s back as he languorously twines their tongues together. 

Leaning heavily against Ed’s chest, Stede hums against Ed’s mouth in contentment. His lips are puffy from overuse and Ed chases the taste of his release lingering on Stede’s tongue. He dips his hands into the waist of Stede’s trousers and smallclothes, working them off his hips together. 

Stede wriggles in an attempt to help things along, rubbing their lengths together in the process. Ed feels the silken trousers pool at their feet before Stede steps out of them and kicks them away. He breaks away from his mouth when he can feel Stede begin to shrug the robe off his shoulders. 

“Keep it on,” Ed says, coaxing the silk back over his shoulders. “The stockings too.” 

Strong eyebrows raise in surprise and delight. To Ed’s dismay, Stede slips the mint silk from his shoulders anyway. An elegant finger comes to rest over his lips as he tries to voice a complaint. 

“Compromise,” Stede chirps. 

He drapes his robe over the rum barrels to draw flowing ruffles and lace over his head. Stede tosses the garment away, Ed watching as it flutters and flows to the ground like water made wearable. 

Stede pulls the robe back over his strong shoulders. Now bare but for the flowing mint banyan and his stockings, Ed can’t decide where to look first. Red-gold hair is dusted across his chest and limbs, curling thicker between his legs. Miles of skin dotted with warm freckles, hectic splashes of pink and red arousal visible down his chest. A delicate gold key and chain lay atop his chest hair, level with rosy pink nipples Ed wants to get his mouth on yesterday. 

And then the stockings. The knees of said stockings are discolored from Stede kneeling on the floor, the white silk held in place on his thighs with yellow ribbons. 

“Normally I’d take affront to my stockings being dirtied,” Stede muses. “But I think I’ll keep them as a reminder—at least until you come back and dirty another.” 

Ed growls, burrowing his face into the blush running down Stede’s throat to bite at the already-reddened skin. “Careful what you wish for,” he says, fingers digging into the supple skin of his backside. 

“Recklessness is serving me very well at the moment.” 

Yanking himself from the tempting hollow of Stede’s throat, Ed turns his attention to the glass bottles that spurred him into action. He grabs a heart-shaped bottle in a rich yellow amber, while his other hand explores the soft landscape of Stede’s skin. 

Stede bends his head to brush his lips across Ed’s collarbones and nuzzle into the greying hair on his chest without urgency. Despite the fact that Ed can feel Stede’s very obvious desire, he seems in no hurry to speed things along. From the languid way he sucked cock, Ed is willing to bet this Gentleman Smuggler takes both his leisure and pleasure very seriously.

Ed laments not having the time to explore that further—at least, not tonight. 

He steers Stede back to the opposite side of the closet, shuffling around the piles of smuggled goods and tripping over Stede’s discarded trousers. Connected from their lips to their hips and unwilling to part, they crash against the unforgiving surface of the wall. 

Ed’s hand cradling the back of Stede’s skull is the only thing that prevents him from a nasty knock on the head. Bits and bobs rattle around them but it's nothing compared to the way his breath is rattling in his chest. 

The lantern above them bathes Stede’s freckled skin in a warm glow that makes Ed’s mouth water. The handful of nails sticking out from the wall cast long, grasping shadows down on them. Ed finds himself reaching for his discarded brandy, taking a sip to wet his lips and unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. 

Stede’s eyes dart to Ed’s mouth and suddenly Ed is tipping the glass to Stede’s lips without conscious thought. Stede makes a greedy sound that is both amplified and muffled by the glass so near his mouth. 

He tips the glass faster than Stede is prepared for, amber liquid spilling from the corners of his mouth and down the inviting arch of his throat. Ed bends to lap at the trails of sweetened liquor. He can feel Stede groan in response, the buzz of his vocal cords making the skin of Ed’s lips tingle. Ed reaches out blindly for a flat surface to deposit the crystal tumbler onto as Stede winds his fingers into his long hair. 

Nimble fingers pluck at the leather tie holding his hair from his face until Ed’s silvering curls tumble free. Ed can feel Stede’s stuttering inhale as his fingers comb through his hair, gentle despite their shaking. 

“You are the most riveting sight I have ever laid eyes on,” Stede breathes. 

Ed surges forward to bite into his mouth. “Don’t know how many times I gotta warn ya,” Ed croaks. “Watch that pretty mouth or you’ll find yourself waking up miles from shore and shackled to my bed.” 

Rather than wait for a response, Ed bends to bury his face between Stede’s tits. The sparse red-blond hair prickles at his face as he mouths over the deliciously plush skin of Stede’s chest until he reaches a stiffened pink nipple. 

Ed can feel the skin pebble further under his tongue, begging for attention from his teeth—and who is he to deny such a request? Worrying the little nub between his teeth, Ed brings a hand up to play with the other. Stede arches into the touch, pressing up onto his toes and into Ed’s mouth. 

He hums his appreciation into the soft swell of Stede’s chest, reluctant to part from the sexiest set of tits Ed has been fortunate enough to get to play with. Ed fumbles between them until he can get his hand under Stede’s thigh and drag a nearby barrel closer. He guides Stede to rest his foot on top of the barrel, spreading his legs wide to accommodate Ed between them, 

Stede whines as Ed continues to tease the sensitive peaks of his nipples until they’re red and aching, teeth marks and beard burn decorating the surrounding skin. He twitches, trying to direct Ed’s mouth to the other side of his chest. Ed allows himself to be moved, the edges of his lips quirking in a grin when he tweaks the sore bud with his fingers as he wraps his lips around the other. 

A cry is wrenched from Stede’s throat as the unexpected sting. Ed can feel Stede’s prick jump at the feeling even as he tries to redirect Ed’s fingers elsewhere. He wrenches his mouth from Stede’s chest and slots their lips together again, grabbing Stede’s wrists and pressing them against the wall. 

Ed curls his tongue against Stede’s in a teasing juxtaposition of his rough hands. They part with a wet smacking sound and Ed quickly goes back to teasing the other side of Stede’s chest. He squeezes Stede’s wrists before continuing to pluck at the sensitive pebbled skin. Ed basks in the sound of Stede’s whimpering only to grunt when strong fingers find their way into his hair and yank. 

Soon they're grappling at one another, laughing and panting into one another’s mouths as they pinch and prod and dig their fingers into ticklish spots. Ed gains the upper hand when Stede wobbles, unsteady from the foot he has propped up on the barrel. He presses Stede’s wrists into one hand and holds them above their heads, smile sharp and victorious. 

His eyes dart to where Stede’s hands are pressed over their heads and Ed can feel all the blood in his body rush to his dick at the thought that pops into his mind. Holding Stede’s eyes, Ed pulls the silk tie of Stede's robe free from the loops holding it before bringing it to his wrists. Stede follows the movement with his eyes and groans when Ed begins to loop the silk over his wrists. 

Head falling back against the wall, he bites his already-swollen bottom lip as he watches Ed lightly secure his wrists together before looping them over one of the nails protruding above them. 

“Okay?” Ed asks, pressing the question directly against Stede’s ear. 

He shudders at the feeling of the words burring against his eardrum. “Yes,” he gasps. 

Ed trails his hands down Stede’s arms until he can cup his face. “Just let me know if you need it off,” he says. 

He ghosts a kiss across Stede’s lips, pulling back to watch Stede chase after him. Eyeing Stede’s naked skin, Ed sets his mouth to the heaving expanse of his chest again. He sweeps the callused pad of his thumb across the sore, pebbled peak of one nipple while taking the other in his mouth. 

Stede whimpers at the sting but arches into his touch, and Ed spends a few hazy moments alternating attention between both tits as Stede strains above him. “Ed,” he gasps, shifting on his toes restlessly. “Fuck, Ed, please. ” 

Pulling his mouth from the reddened bud, Ed licks his lips as he looks over Stede’s marked chest in satisfaction. Ed’s fingers are tacky from drying saliva as he wraps a hand around Stede’s prick. Pink and throbbing and leaking into his grip, Ed contemplates licking down the stiff length of him. 

Those thoughts are quickly abandoned in the wake of Stede canting his hips forward. The leg Stede has propped up spreads wide, inviting Ed’s eyes lower, begging for his hands, and he pats along the velvet robe in search of the bottle he stowed inside. Stede lets out a breathy whine when Ed pulls the stopper from the heart-shaped bottle. 

“Eager, aren’t you?” Ed teases. He shuffles close enough that their noses brush, drinking in the need he can see in Stede’s hazel eyes. 

Stede huffs, arching a brow at him in mock derision. “Unlike someone,” he breathes. “I haven’t gotten to finish yet.” 

Ed chuckles lows in his throat. “From the way you were holding yourself, kinda feels like that was on purpose.” 

The sweet scents of honey and flowers and custard blossom as Ed warms the oil on his fingers. He makes an appreciative sound as the fragrant oil begins to tingle slightly before he slips his fingers behind Stede’s balls and against his rim. 

Stede gasps, jerking into the slide of Ed’s fingers as Ed remembers the confession he pulled from the gentleman arching into the press of his hand. “You do this to yourself too, Gentleman Smuggler? Use your fingers and those fancy fake pricks behind us to open yourself up?” 

“Well, not those ones,” he deflects. 

Blushing, Stede bites his bottom lip as he rests his head against his bicep. He makes a decadent picture with his wrists still bound together and suspended above his head, dirt plainly visible on his stark white stockings while his robe hugs his nude form. Ed almost wishes someone was around to immortalize the image of Stede as a painting to display in his bunk—but that would mean letting someone else see him like this. 

Ed lets the tip of his middle finger breech Stede’s hole and drinks in the gasp he gets in response. He slowly eases his finger deeper with each slide. “Wouldn’t do to sell used stock, would it?” 

Stede’s breath shudders out of him when Ed’s knuckles press against his taint. “I’d never do something so unprofessional,” he pants. 

“Course not,” Ed replies, gently fucking him with his middle finger. “I’m sure you’ve got some pretty things hidden away for your personal use, hmm? Like the one you practiced fucking your throat with.” 

Eyes fluttering, Stede’s head thunks back against the wall as Ed teases him open around two fingers. He rocks up onto the toes of the foot still on the floor as Ed’s fingers press inside to the first knuckle. Ed nips at the thin skin under his jaw. “Look at me.” 

Ed can feel Stede’s throat work to swallow under his lips. He pulls back to catch Stede’s bleary gaze as he whines and continues to worry his bottom lip between his teeth. Above their heads, Stede’s hands open and close erratically as Ed gingerly twists his fingers. 

“Feel the same as your own fingers?” Ed asks, coaxing sweet mewls from Stede’s lips as he glances over his prostate.

Stede shakes his head. “No,” he gasps. “Fuck, not at all. Never used oil that—” He chokes on his words as Ed speeds up the pace, teetering unsteadily on his toes as shadows dance around them in time to his fingers starfishing above them. 

“Neither have I. My fingers are already tingling; can’t imagine how it feels inside,” he rumbles, rubbing against the sensitive gland inside Stede without ceasing. 

Knees wobbling, Stede’s cries are hoarse from taking Ed’s prick in his throat. He slides as far down the wall as his bound hands will allow and Ed hitches Stede’s bent leg up and over his own hip to hold him aloft. 

“Oh my God,” Stede pants. His arms knock against the wall as his body writhes fitfully in response to Ed’s touch. “Oh, fuck, Edward.” 

Stede’s prick twitches between them. His freckled thigh is a sticky mess, and Ed groans at the feeling of Stede’s length against his belly. His own prick is fully hard again, nudging into the deliciously plush flesh of Stede’s belly. Ed can feel Stede’s muscles jump as he teeters both on his toes and the edge of release. 

Ed pulls his fingers free and Stede whimpers at finding himself suddenly empty. Ed waits until he’s steady on his feet before pulling away to fumble for the bottle and pour more of the sweet-smelling oil onto his fingers. 

“Ready for another?” Ed asks, nuzzling into the hair curling behind Stede’s ear. He swirls his fingers around the twitching ring of muscle between Stede’s legs, waiting for a response. 

“Please,” Stede begs. “Please keep going.” 

Stede’s mouth falls open as Ed presses the bunch of three fingers inside him. A tiny, ruined whine pours from his lips as Ed sucks Stede’s bottom lip between his. Stede rocks his hips in time with the steady press-retreat of Ed’s fingers as he tries in vain to catch his breath. 

Ed slides his free arm between Stede’s lower back and the wall, pulling him close as he rubs soothing circles against his skin. Breath coming faster, it feels like the tingling sensation of the oil is making its way down Ed’s spine despite only being on his fingers. 

The combination of the debauched gentleman in front of him and Stede’s sweet whimpers of pleasure makes Ed feel mad with want—and if he’s feeling impatient, Stede must be desperate. 

“Faster?” he asks. 

Stede nods enthusiastically, and Ed wastes no time setting a breathless pace. Hard and fast, he fucks Stede on his fingers, pressing him into the wall with his hips and holding him still with the arm around his back.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Stede cries, tugging fitfully at his bound wrists. His cries sharpen when Ed bends his head to the sore planes of his chest and mouths at the reddened peaks of his nipples. His voice becomes urgent. “Oh, fuck, I’m going to come.” 

Ed pulls his mouth from Stede’s chest and immediately stills his fingers. Stede’s body is brimming with tension as he whimpers pitifully. Ed presses soft kisses across the line of his collarbones. “Almost there,” Ed soothes, tucking his pinky into the bunch of his slick fingers.

He barely lets Stede catch his breath before he’s pressing into the clutch of his body with four fingers. Ed can feel the gorgeous arch of Stede’s back as he whines into the stretch. “Kiss me,” he pleads. “Fuck, please, kiss me.” 

It’s a plea Ed is more than happy to oblige. He fits his mouth to Stede’s, the both of them too keyed up to do more than trade relatively chaste kisses back and forth as Ed makes Stede writhe against his fingers. 

A half-broken sob leaves Stede’s throat as Ed curls his fingers just so. “Wait,” Stede gasps. “T-too much.” 

Ed stills at once. “What’s too much?” he asks. He slowly begins to ease his fingers from the urgent clench of Stede’s body until he shakes his head and hauls Ed closer with the leg wrapped around his waist. 

“My hands,” he breathes, eyes darting to where his bound wrists hang above their heads. 

Nodding, Ed presses Stede up the wall with his hips until the silk tie slips free of the nail. He tugs the knots free and draws Stede’s elegant, trembling fingers to his lips to bestow lingering kisses upon them. 

Stede makes a soft sound in his throat at the gesture. His fingers twitch against the curls of his beard as if each tiny kiss electrifies him, clenching around the fingers Ed still has buried inside him. 

“Better?” Ed asks. 

Stede loosely drapes his arms around Ed’s shoulders. “Yes,” he breathes, swaying forward to capture Ed’s lips in a kiss as slow and sweet as honey. The urgency of moments before is all but gone, despite the fact Ed can feel the insistent press of Stede’s prick against his stomach. 

Whimpering at the feeling of Ed’s fingers slipping from his hole, Stede’s fingers grip his velvet-covered shoulders to keep him close. 

Ed rests his forehead against Stede’s furrowed brow. “Ready for me to fuck you?” 

“I’ve been ready,” Stede chuckles breathlessly. 

“Mmm,” Ed replies. He nudges their noses together before focusing his attention on emptying the heart-shaped bottle of its contents. “Been dragging it out; didn’t want the night to end too soon.” 

Stede’s breath leaves him in a rush. Ed chances a look at his face and finds a tender expression he can’t bring himself to analyze. “Sunrise is some hours away yet,” Stede whispers. 

Ed swallows around the abrupt tightness in his throat and spreads the sweet-scented oil over his cock. “I don’t know that I have until sunrise left in me,” he deflects, rubbing the head of his prick behind Stede’s balls to nudge against his entrance. 

Inhaling sharply, Stede hitches his leg higher on Ed’s waist at the first blunt press of his cockhead. “I’m sure we can f-find something else to keep us occupied,” he stutters. “I have a lovely black chiffon I think would make a fetching—” 

Ed’s hips jerk forward involuntarily as the oil begins to warm and tingle along the length of his prick. The swollen head of his dick barely breaches Stede’s slick hole at the movement, stealing the words off Stede’s lips and the breath from his lungs. 

Stede eagerly tilts his hips away from the wall, causing Ed’s prick to slide deeper. “Fuck,” Ed bites out. “Fuck, you feel so good.” 

With one arm over his shoulders and the other coming to claw at the small of his back, Stede urges Ed deeper. “I’m not going to last long,” he warns, voice shaking.  “But don’t you dare stop.” 

Groaning, Ed buries his face into Stede’s throat. He sheathes himself inside the maddening heat of Stede’s body in one slow flex of his hips. Stede’s fingers turn into claws as he wails at the feeling of being speared on his cock, and Ed tries to fuck even deeper when he remembers no one else has gotten to feel what he’s feeling. 

The foreign sensation of the tingling oil and the slick grip of Stede’s body make Ed glad he’s already come once or this would all be over embarrassingly soon. He secures his hold on the thigh Stede has wrapped around him and fumbles to slap at the leg he’s still standing on. 

“Up,” he bids. “Wrap this one around me too.” 

Stede shudders at the low timbre of his voice. “Are you certain?” he asks. “Not too heavy?” 

Ed snorts. “Wrap those gorgeous thighs around me, sweetheart,” he rumbles. “Let me worry about the rest.” 

He hesitates, biting his lip so hard Ed can practically hear the argument going on in his pretty blond head. With a roll of his eyes, Ed bends his knees to sweep his other stocking-clad leg up around his waist. 

Stede’s yelp transforms into a throaty groan as Ed shifts inside him. Strong-soft limbs curl around Ed like an octopus in response. “Dear Christ,” Stede whimpers. 

“Let’s not bring him into this,” Ed pants, unable to stop the grin on his face. 

Stede squeezes the breath from him with his legs in response. “Enough of that clever tongue,” he pants. “Move.” 

“You haven’t even had my clever tongue yet,” Ed purrs. He punctuates his jibe with a teasing nibble to an earlobe.

Shivering, Stede urges Ed to move with his grasping limbs. “I haven’t had this before either,” he replies, clenching around Ed’s cock in emphasis. 

Ed chuckles breathlessly, allowing himself to slowly rock up into the warmth of Stede’s body. “You’re having right it now,” he says. 

“I am,” Stede agrees, weaving his fingers into Ed’s hair to pull him close. 

Their tongues tangle as Ed keeps the roll of his hips slow and smooth. The skin of Stede’s thighs is soft and supple under his callused fingers, spilling over the ribbon cinched at the top of the stockings to hold them in place. Stede does his best to move with him until he is whining in frustration, clinging and clutching at any bit of Ed he can reach in an attempt to urge him to move faster. Ed plays dumb, content to lazily rut into the sweet heat of Stede’s ass for the foreseeable future. 

“For someone that said they didn’t think they had it in them to go until sunrise, you sure are making a valiant attempt,” Stede pants, hoarse. His tone is a mix of impressed and irritated and Ed can’t help but snicker. 

“Don’t know when we’ll be back,” Ed replies. He shifts the angle of his hips, searching. His grin sharpens in triumph at the surprised cry of pleasure Stede lets outs as he successfully skates over his prostate. “Gotta make sure I ruin you for everyone else.” 

Stede laughs weakly. “A lofty goal.” A lance of white-hot pleasure shoots through Ed at the challenge in those words, coiling low in his abdomen when Stede’s fingers tighten their grip in his hair. “Now put your fucking back into it.” 

Ed doesn’t wait another second to give him what he wants. He kicks the barrel Stede propped his foot on aside, sets his boot on the sack of nearby grain for leverage, and puts his fucking back into it. 

He relishes the guttural expulsion of sound Stede gives at the first slap of his hips, the way Stede’s skin and muscle and fat feel under his hands, how it bounces and gives and hugs Ed everywhere it touches. He drives his prick into the tight clench of Stede’s hole relentlessly, only pausing to yank or haul Stede back into place. Ed can feel Stede’s cock pressed between their bellies, aroused and leaking and hot. His mind is overwhelmed by all the things he wants to do, aware of how very little time he has left with this miraculous little madman. 

“Do you want to finish like this?” Ed asks, punctuating his question with a wicked roll of his hip. “Or I could play with your perfect tits again, hmm?” 

Stede moans at his words. “Keep talking,” he begs, shoving his hand between them to stroke his dick in time to Ed’s pistoning thrusts. “Fuck, just keep talking.” 

“Want me to tell you what else I want to do to you?” Ed asks. His voice is harsh and rough and growling and Stede whimpers in reply. “I wanna hunt down your personal collection of naughty things and watch you use them on yourself. I want—” 

Ed cuts himself off, the image of Stede in his bunk flashing in his mind before he decides fuck it. “I wanna drag you back to my ship,” he admits. Stede gasps, body locking up for a split second before his fist begins to fly over his cock. “I want to take you to Queen Anne and bring you to my cabin. Want to have your legs around my ears in my bunk. Want to have your mouth again, sittin’ at my desk while I try to plot a new course.” 

Stede whines, high and thin and so fucking close. “Don’t stop,” he begs. 

“Maybe at the helm one night, with no one else around,” Ed continues. “Seems like you like to take your time; I’ll let you take all the time you want to fuck your throat open on my cock. Pick a nice quiet night, nothing and no one around for miles. Maybe wearing something like this, to keep the chill of the wind away. Gotta find you something to kneel on, though—feel like you might be on your knees awhile.” 

Cursing, Stede tightens around Ed’s prick like a vice. “Fuck, fuck, I’m—” 

“That’s it,” Ed croons. “C’mon.” 

He feels Stede spend between them, spurting hot and sticky onto Stede’s hand and their bellies as he gasps through shocks of pleasure. “Ed, Ed, fuck! Oh God, fuck! ” 

Ed’s pace falters in deference to how oversensitive he’s certain Stede is about to be, but Stede winds his fingers into Ed’s hair and tightens his grip. “Keep going,” he urges. “Don’t stop. Wanna feel you come inside me.” 

“You’re fuckin’ killin’ me,” Ed growls. His heart pounds as mind-numbing pleasure dances along the edges of his vision. 

Using his chest to pin Stede to the wall, Ed gives the legs around his waist a tap before he’s pulling out and setting Stede on legs wobblier than a newborn colt’s. He cuts off Stede’s protest with a stinging kiss before yanking him from the wall and spinning him until they’re back to chest. 

He urges Stede onto his knees and the blond practically throws himself to the floor in his haste to accommodate. Ed shoves the mint green banyan to the side and lets himself take greedy handfuls of Stede’s ass in his hands. He groans at the sight of Stede’s hole, reddened and slick and sensitive and clenching around nothing. 

Ed shifts his hold to Stede’s hips and sinks his aching prick inside the tight heat between Stede’s legs. Earlier protests forgotten, Stede shouts his delight as Ed fucks back into him to take his pleasure. He can see Stede scrabble for purchase in his ruined stockings and Ed makes a note to steal one as a souvenir before they’re through. 

Stede’s head lolls forward between his arms as they wobble dangerously in their effort to hold him up. Without thinking, Ed reaches forward and gets a hand in those gold curls, hauling his head back so he can see the way Stede clenches his eyes shut, overwhelmed, as aftershocks tear their way through him. 

Kneeling like this is going to make his bad knee ache like a motherfucker, but that’s a problem for tomorrow’s Ed. With one hand tangled in Stede’s hair, the other hooked over his shoulder, Ed yanks Stede onto his prick without finesse. 

The sound of their bodies meeting echoes dully in the room of smuggled goods. He watches Stede’s soft skin dimple in his harsh grip, bouncing from the force of his thrusts, and Ed is grateful he’s already finished once this evening or he wouldn’t have been able to enjoy the feeling of Stede trembling around his cock for nearly as long. 

“Edward,” Stede whines, his voice high and breathless. Ed can see sweat beading along his hairline and dripping down his neck. “Fuck, it’s so good.” 

Stede gasps as Ed nails the tiny bundle of nerves inside him with ruthless efficiency, clenching around Ed’s prick like a vice. Ed groans at the combined sensation of that sweet pressure and the tingling from the fancy, sweet-smelling oil. “Fucking ruined me for anyone else, mate,” he growls. “No way in hell you’re gettin’ away from me.” 

“I wouldn’t even want to try,” Stede replies, voice breaking and breath hitching in response to Ed’s fierce thrusts. 

His hips meet Ed’s eagerly and Ed can hear the tiny, almost-pained sounds Stede tries to smother. Each garbled, bitten-off noise zings down his spine until Ed can feel his balls tightening with impending release. 

Ed thrusts deep and holds, slowly circling his hips as he leans over to whisper into Stede’s ear and kiss across freckled shoulders. “Think you can come again?” 

Shuddering, Stede rocks back against Ed’s prick with a whine and laughs weakly. “Not before you do,” he laments. 

Ed rights himself, nipping down Stede’s spine as he goes. “Have to plan better next time,” he remarks. He untangles his fingers from Stede’s golden curls to grasp at both hips. Spreading his knees wider, Ed tosses his hair out of his face. “Think you mentioned something about me ‘putting my back into it’?” 

“Oh Chri—” 

Ed hauls him onto his dick with a powerful drive of his hips and just fucking goes for it. He keeps his thrusts steady and firm, swearing at the ruined sounds of pleasure that pour from Stede’s lips.

He squirms in Ed’s grasp, arms trembling in an effort to hold himself upright until he gives in and collapses onto his elbows. Stede buries his face in his forearms and wails in overwhelmed pleasure—and all the while, his hips continue to meet Ed’s as he fucks the decorum right out of him. 

“Please please please, fuck, please!” Stede begs. 

Heat suffuses Ed’s chest at the devastated sandpaper rasp of Stede’s voice. “‘Please’ what ?” Ed grits. 

“Come inside me,” Stede moans. “Please, please come inside me. I want i—” 

Ed shatters apart. His fingers bite into Stede’s hip as he hammers his prick into Stede’s twitching hole three, four, five more times before ecstasy whites out his mind and makes his ears ring. He can hear Stede’s voice break as he chants ‘ yes yes yes ’ with each jerk of Ed’s hips. 

His spend and the ridiculous amount of oil quickly make his thrusts go sloppy and wet. The lewd squelch has Ed’s toes curling in his boots, breath heaving as he slowly comes down from the highest peak he’s ever reached. 

“ Fuck, ” he sighs, sinking back onto his heels. He takes Stede with him, the man’s stockinged thighs spreading wide around Ed’s legs as he settles into his lap, Ed’s still-hard prick buried inside him. 

Ed hauls Stede upright, taking the full weight of him in his lap. Stede whimpers, collapsing backward against Ed's chest and further onto his cock before nuzzling into any bit of Ed he can reach. Ed gently tips his chin up for an uncoordinated kiss that turns into them panting into one another’s mouths as they restlessly shift against one another. 

Their clumsy motions send off shockwaves of overstimulated pleasure through them both until they finally still. Much like in the aftermath of Stede sucking him off, Ed brings up a shaky hand to wipe away a few stray tears that leaked from Stede’s eyes. 

“Too much?” 

Stede shakes his head in immediate denial. “No,” he assures. “No. It was perfect. Consider me thoroughly ruined.” 

Ed grins, nosing against the curls at Stede’s temple. He lets his fingers dip underneath the soiled stockings that have been on his mind all evening. “I have a proposition for you.” 

“Oh?” Stede asks, brows flicking upward in interest. He makes no move to separate himself from Ed’s lap.  “I suppose we never did get around to talking business.” 

Laughing low in his throat, Ed undoes the bow of soft yellow silk holding Stede’s stocking in place. “I had a thought or two about that.” 

Ed leans against the rail on the main deck with a tin cup of coffee in his hand. It’s early, the sun barely fully over the horizon as Queen Anne’s Revenge makes her way back to open waters. Their coffers are well and truly full after the offloading all that fancy fabric, and Ed lets his hand run down the soft velvet sleeve of the robe Stede had insisted he take with him. 

“It looks far better on you than it did just hanging from the peg in my drawing room—or on me, for that matter.” he’d said. 

He’d been surprised to find only Buttons on deck once Fang and Ivan rowed them back over. Faithfully at the helm, the man simply gave them a solemn nod before Ed sent the boys off to rouse the hands needed to weigh anchor and put Bridgetown to their rudder. 

Now, Ed can see Izzy making his way to him looking as put together and alert as he always was. He wrinkles his nose at the sight of Edward wearing the decadent maroon robe. 

“Thought I’d be coming to haul your ass away from that toff’s bed for sure,” he offers by way of greeting, knocking their shoulders together and handing Ed a still-warm scone to soften his words. 

Ed shrugs. “I thought you might be too,” he allows. 

“Bonnet didn’t let you under his skirts after all?” Izzy asks, disbelief written all over his face. 

Snorting around a mouthful of scone, Ed rolls his eyes. “Oh, he let me under them, alright; I thought you might have to come drag me away .” 

Izzy clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Please spare me the details.” 

“Like I haven’t run into you and Spriggs in damn near every corner on poor Annie,” Ed returns. “Let’s not even start on Jack.” 

Glaring, Izzy sips his coffee with more menace than most men were capable of with a loaded pistol. “Yes. Let’s not start on Jack, Edward. You were no better.” 

“I really wasn’t,” Ed agrees, folding the sides of his new robe closed over his bare chest. 

Izzy tugs at the hem of the maroon velvet with a sour look on his face. “You knick this?” 

“Nah, he said I should have it,” Ed says, grinning. He reaches into the pocket with exaggerated slowness. “Wait until you see what else I brought with me.” 

Face wrinkling in disgust, Izzy takes a step back like Ed is going to pull a live snake from his pocket. “Do I want to know?” 

“Relaaax,” Ed deflects, pulling out one of the yellow ribbons that held Stede's stockings up with a flourish. 

Glaring, Izzy’s posture does relax minutely—just in time for Ed to spy a head of blond curls emerging from the direction of Ed’s cabin. 

“There you are, darling!” Stede calls. 

Izzy stiffens before turning whipping towards the sound of Stede’s voice and then back to Ed. “You did not.” 

“I absolutely did,” Ed drawls, holding his arm out to invite Stede closer. 

“Lucius said that was a joke!” Izzy shouts desperately. 

Stede beams up at Edward, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Remind me to thank him,” says Stede. “It was his idea after all.” 

Lucius emerges from below deck, nose buried in his sketchbook. “What was my idea?” 

Izzy points an accusatory finger at his lover. “You! This is your fault!”

“Excuse me? You better mind that tone—” Lucius’ snark cuts off as soon as he notices the familiar blond head cuddling up to the fiercest pirate in the Caribbean. “Stede?!” 

Ed beams at the chaos. “Thanks for the suggestion, mate,” he says, winking. “Never would have thought to take him along without it.” 

“Suggestion! It was a warning!” Izzy cries, eye twitching. 

Lucius closes the distance between them and slaps Stede across the hip with his sketchbook. “What about Mary? Or Alma and Louis?!” 

“Oh, we talked it through,” Stede soothes, running a calming hand down Ed’s back when he moves to draw his gun on the boy for hitting him. “She got worried when I didn’t make my way back to the manor and came by with Doug to see what was taking so long. We all had a lovely chat and agreed it’s been ever so long since I had a vacation.” 

Izzy looks ready to explode. “This isn’t a pleasure cruise; it’s a pirate ship!” 

“No reason it can’t be both,” Stede sniffs. 

Lucius laughs incredulously. “How did you get here? Don’t tell me you agreed to roughing it.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Stede chides. “Doug, the absolute lamb, drove the wagon I so graciously lent you to transport the fabrics. Fang and Ivan were more than happy to help with the few things I brought.” 

Ed snorts. “Few? You brought three thunks.” 

Izzy scoffs but Lucius looks surprised. “Oh, that’s actually not bad.” 

“Mary’s forwarding the rest to St. Thomas,” Ed deadpans. 

Lucius nods. “There it is.” 

“I limited myself to one luggage set!” 

Unimpressed, Lucius crosses his arms over his chest. “And which luggage set was that? The green one, with twenty pieces?”

“The yellow one,” Stede snipes, pulling from Ed’s hold to plant his hands on his hips in an adorably miffed fashion. “Which only has eleven pieces, thank you very much —and not all of them are trunks!” 

“You were supposed to ‘talk business’ and get this out of your system!” Izzy rails. “If I knew you were going to be seduced by a pair of silk stockings and a velvet robe, I woulda knocked your ass out and dragged you back to Annie before I left!” 

Stede sneers and allows Ed to fold him back against his chest. “Is that any way to talk to your captain, Iggy?” 

“He’s Blackbeard, not some flibustier!” Izzy argues, glaring at a giggling Lucius. “And it’s ‘Izzy’ you—” 

“Exactly,” Ed interrupts. He eyes Izzy archly before turning his gaze to Stede and softening. “I’m Blackbeard; if I want to kidnap a pretty blond tailor, I kidnap a pretty blond tailor.” 

Stede flushes under his scrutiny, clearly thinking of the first time Ed speak those words to him while he was on his knees. “Is it really kidnapping if I came along willingly?” 

“It is if I never intended on letting you leave.” 

Tracing his fingers along the embroidery on the velvet robe, Stede blinks up at Ed, utterly besotted and unashamed for the world to see. Izzy spits a curse and stalks off toward the forecastle to sulk. 

Lucius watches him stomp off with a charmed expression before turning his attention back to the pair in front of him. “He’s going to be impossible to put up with for the next few days, you know?” 

“We’ll find a nice fat galleon to raid to take his mind off it,” Ed dismisses. “He’ll get over it.” 

“Easy for you to say! I’m the one that—” 

“Introduced us,” Ed interrupts. He winks at Lucius, smug and satisfied.

Stede hums in agreement. "Indeed. One might argue this is entirely your doing, my dear boy." 

“I’ll find a way to make it worth your while if you keep him out of my hair while he cools down," Ed continues, rushing to cut off the absolute fit he could tell was brewing on his deck just from the volume of Lucius' outraged huff.

Lucius narrows his eyes. “No more barnacle scraping,” he demands. 

“Then you better do a damn good job of keeping him off my back, because that’s gonna cause a whole different kind of headache for me to deal with,” Ed shoots back. 

Glancing over at the seething form of Israel Hands, Lucius grimaces at the impossible task he’s set for himself. “Counteroffer; no more barnacle scraping while we’re at sea .” 

Ed holds his hand out to shake on it. “Done.” 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Lucius replies, shaking Ed’s hand before sauntering off to cajole his first mate into a better mood. 

Stede walks his fingers up Ed’s chest until they can gently play with the curls of his beard. “Perhaps we could work something out in regard to visitation? Mary would be quite cross to find herself running the smuggling business all by herself—and I’d miss the children terribly.” 

“I think we can work something out,” Ed drawls, running the length of stolen yellow ribbon across the sensitive skin of Stede’s bare neck before using it to tie back his long silvering hair. “As I said, a Gentleman Smuggler isn’t that far off from a Gentleman Pirate.” 

Stede swallows thickly and goes up onto his toes to press and lingering kiss to the side of Ed’s mouth. “I think I quite like the sound of that.”