Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s well past dawn, and Ed’s still asleep.

This is a recent development—and, in Stede’s opinion, a very welcome one. When they first came here, Ed was up with every change of the light. And every change of the temperature, of the breeze, of the too-naturey sounds outside. He’d wake with a start—audible enough that it would wake Stede in turn—and only once he’d checked the door, all the windows, and sometimes the entire perimeter of the property, would he calm down enough to fall asleep again.

Stede understood why, of course. But he was still relieved when, a few weeks ago, Ed finally began sleeping through the night. Not just the night, either; sometimes well into morning. As though he’d missed out on a lifetime of deep sleep and was now determined to catch up on all of it at once.

Usually, when Stede wakes first, he gets up and makes breakfast, complete with nice, strong, sugary tea. This morning, however, there’s an obstacle in his path. An Ed-shaped obstacle, curled around him like a comma and snoring directly into his ear.

Ed’s chest is pressed against Stede’s back. Ed’s leg is hooked over Stede’s thigh. Ed’s arm has snaked under Stede’s own, and Ed’s hand is splayed across Stede’s chest, just over his heart.

Also, notably, Ed’s cock is pressed neatly against the cleft of Stede’s arse. Which Stede can feel in great detail because Ed, as he often does these days, came to bed fully nude last night. Another very recent and very welcome development. Stede’s never done that himself, mostly out of habit, but recently he’s started to think it might only be a matter of time before he eschews his nightshirt for a chance to fall asleep skin-to-skin with his love.

Stede stretches in Ed’s arms. He isn’t careful. If he wakes Ed, so much the better; he can stay right where he is and let Ed finish the job that his sleeping body began. Just like last week.

“No, don’t get the oil. Stay here.” Ed’s voice was so syrupy-sleepy in Stede’s ear. “Just let me… can I…”

“Whatever you want,” Stede said, hitching up his nightshirt.

As if remembering the same thing, Ed begins to stir. His hips roll, pressing his cock even more firmly against Stede. Stede can’t help arching into the sensation—and when Ed’s breath hitches, he can’t help smiling, either.

“Darling?” he whispers. “Are you awake?”

Ed’s hips roll again. And then he resumes snoring.

Even as his own cock begins to show its interest in the proceedings, Stede bites back a laugh. He loves Ed like this. Loves him so very terribly. The only thing that would make this better is if Stede could see him properly.

Gently as he can, Stede disentangles them. Not entirely—just enough that he can rotate in Ed’s arms until they’re face to face.

Ed’s mouth is slightly open. Hence the snoring. His chest rises and falls with his breath, and his eyelids twitch ever so slightly. A dream, then. He’s having a dream.

Ed shifts a little, and for a moment Stede wonders if he’s going to curl his limbs around Stede, pull him close again. But instead, he rolls onto his back. The arm that held Stede just moments ago flops over the far side of the bed. His legs stretch out, long and slender. His cock, dark and full, curves enticingly over his belly.

Ed began rutting against Stede’s backside, first slowly, then faster. His breath was hot on Stede’s neck, and his hand reached around to find Stede’s cock. As he began stroking, Stede let out a guttural moan. Neither of them lasted long after that.

Propping himself up on one elbow, Stede takes a moment and simply… looks. At the lines of him. The black and grey of his long, beautiful hair. The scars and tattoos that tell the story of his life all across his skin.

Sometimes, Stede honestly still can’t believe that Ed is really his.

The bird tattoo calls to him today—the one just below Ed’s collarbone—and so he reaches out and traces it with one finger. Not lightly enough to tickle, not firmly enough to bruise. Ed shifts a little at the touch, but he still doesn’t wake.

Stede’s finger begins to travel lower, and Ed doesn’t wake. He traces a line between Ed’s exquisite pectorals, and Ed arches into it a little, but still, still doesn’t wake.

Stede bites his lip, considering.

At first, he was certain he misheard. Afterglow always affected his ability to process new information, after all—and being cradled in Ed’s arms only ever made it worse. So he said, “Pardon?”

Ed dropped a kiss onto his forehead. “I said, you could try not waking me up next time. But, like. You know. Only if you want.”

His finger moves lower. Lower. It moves over the scar tissue that dots Ed’s belly, and Ed sleeps on.

“Is… is that something you’d want?” Stede asked, flabbergasted. Such a thing had never even occurred to him before.

Ed shrugged in that particular way he had—the one that meant he’d given something quite a lot of thought, but was determined to act casual about it. “Might be, yeah. Maybe.”

Stede sits up. This isn’t the first time since that conversation that Stede’s woken up first—nor the first time that he’s woken up to find Ed hard and still asleep. But it is the first time that he’s actually found himself considering Ed’s suggestion.

“Nothing weird, though, yeah?” Ed added. “Nothing, like, new. Only the stuff we already do together.”

Stede thought about this, then nodded. “When?”

“Whenever you want. Surprise me.” Ed grinned. “That’s kinda the whole point.”

Stede leans over. Presses a long, lingering kiss to the center of Ed’s chest, as Ed’s belly rises and falls steadily under his hand.

“Nothing weird,” he promises aloud.

And with that, his hand slides downward, curling loosely around the base of Ed’s cock. This is for two reasons. First: when Ed made this suggestion, Stede understood—they both understood, he thinks—that cock-touching ought to be a strong feature, if not the centerpiece, of whatever Stede did while Ed slept. Second: as eager as Ed seemed, Stede knows he hasn’t actually tried this before. If this kind of touch surprises them both by bringing Ed to a defensive wakefulness instead of a pleasant one, he’d rather know that sooner than later, insofar as that’s possible.

Well, no, it’s for three reasons. The third being that Ed’s cock is a work of art, and there are very few things Stede loves more than having it in his hand.

Ed twitches a little at the touch, his lips curving into a contented expression. And when Stede begins to move his hand—the lightest and gentlest of strokes—Ed stirs and gives a satisfied-sounding hum. His head turns to face the other side of the bed, though, which absolutely will not do. If Ed’s conscious mind is to be absent from the morning’s proceedings, Stede will have to trust that his subconscious mind will find ways to express his reactions. And Ed’s face is by far the most expressive part of his body.

“Sorry, I’ll just be a moment,” Stede says as he removes his hand. He realizes, as he’s saying it, that it’s ridiculous to makes excuses to a sleeping man. But he also thinks politeness is a habit worth maintaining no matter what the circumstances, and so he decides to continue telling Ed what he’s doing.

“I’ll just grab this cushion—this one here.” One of the ones from the floor, not the bed, of course. The green one he’s fallen into the habit of relying on whenever Ed asks him to use his mouth. Taking it round to the other side of the bed, he puts it on the floor and kneels on it, just beside Ed’s stray arm. “There! Perfect. Now I can see your face. And honestly, this gives me a much better angle as well. No need to lean over and—Well, I won’t harp on about it. I’ve got better things to do, haven’t I?”

Ed’s right hand is right there, hanging off the edge of the bed. On a sudden impulse, Stede grabs it and kisses it. First the back, right on the spider tattoo. Then the palm. Then each finger in turn. He sucks Ed’s index finger briefly into his mouth, eyes flicking up to check Ed’s face for a reaction.

Steady breathing. A little twitch in his neck that might mean anything. A small movement of his brows that only happens when he’s pleased.

Gently returning Ed’s hand to where it was, Stede moves lower again, running both hands over the expanse of Ed’s skin: tattoos and scars and hair and all. Because he likes being able to feel Ed’s breath, he leaves his left hand splayed over Ed’s belly—but his right picks up right where he left off before Ed turned his head: curling around Ed’s cock, lightly stroking.

That sound again. That contented little hum.

“That’s it, darling,” Stede whispers. “Let me know if you like what I’m doing. I’ll stop if you don’t, of course.”

A tiny smile tugs at Ed’s lips, so well-timed that Stede wonders if he’s woken up. But his lips fall open again and a light snore escapes him, so… apparently not.

Stede supposes he ought to do something flashier—something that might shock and delight Ed, should he wake up in the middle of it. After all, even considering Ed’s request to stick to things they’ve done already, he has a vast repertoire to choose from. They haven’t shied away from being inventive in their lovemaking over the past months.

But as he mulls over the endless possibilities, he finds that he doesn’t particularly want to do anything flashy. He’s enjoying this too much: the simple pleasure of being able to touch Ed, to observe him, without either of them trying to escalate things. His hand moves slowly, languidly, over the swell and curve of Ed’s gorgeous cock, and he lets himself look, and stroke, and look some more.

“What’re you looking at, hmm?” Ed might ask, if he were awake. It’d be a teasing sort of question, and there’d be both mirth and love in his eyes—but it would still be a cue, whether intentional or not, for Stede to stop gawking and get on with whatever he was going to do next.

Now, though, this is what he’s going to do next. He’s going to do it for as long as he damn well pleases. Because while he’s certain that Ed would welcome the attention if Stede stood his ground—“Your prick, of course,” he might reply to Ed’s teasing question, “so kindly stop asking questions and let me look.”—there’s something quietly thrilling about not having to explain himself.

Stede can still remember, with crystal clarity, the first moment he saw Ed’s cock. Really saw it—not a stolen glance while peeing next to each other, or a brief flash of skin as Ed dressed or undressed, but an intentional look. The first night they made love, back aboard the Revenge, Ed had undressed at Stede’s request, and he remembers being amazed at Ed’s beauty. The marvelous expanse of decorated skin. The naked vulnerability upon his face. And his cock, already heavy with desire. Stede remembers admiring the shape of it. The thickness of it, the color, the way the dusky crown peered out of Ed’s foreskin.

How in the world had he ever not known that he was attracted to men? He wondered it that night, as he became breathless at his first-ever sight of Ed’s nude body. He wonders it again now, and laughs lightly at the thought.

Ed obviously doesn’t ask what he’s laughing at. Nevertheless, Stede explains: “It’s only that your prick is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen, and I still can’t believe I spent most of my life not ever having had the pleasure of seeing it. Or touching it. Or…” He bends over and presses his lips to the sensitive spot on the underside, just under the head; Ed lets out a tiny noise of pleasure. “Or loving it.”

Were he awake, Ed would be rolling his eyes right now. But he isn’t. So there.

“And I truly do love it, Ed,” Stede continues, his voice low. “I know I’ve told you so, many times, but I don’t know that you quite believe just how much I mean it. I love watching it swell just because you desire me. I love how often you allow me to have my way with it. I love that my touch upon it makes you feel so many wonderful things.” He lets his thumb glide over the head. Ed twitches under his hand, and snores. “And of course, more than anything, I love that it’s a part of you that you chose to share with me.”

The head of Ed’s cock is beautifully swollen; with his thumb and forefinger, Stede takes hold of his foreskin and pulls it gently up and down. Up and down. The moan this elicits is long and low, and a crease appears between Ed’s brows, but he sleeps on. As the fingers of his right hand continue working, Stede lifts his left from Ed’s belly, wraps it firmly around the shaft of his cock, and just… holds it.

Feels the precious weight of it in his hand.

“Mine,” he whispers, though he didn’t intend to. His skin thrills at the feeling of the word leaving his mouth—at the truth of it. “This is mine. You’re mine.”

Ed lets out a sort of two-toned hum. It sounds so much like agreement that Stede wonders again if he’s secretly woken up. But the steadiness of his breathing confirms that he hasn’t.

Suddenly, for no real reason at all, Stede’s hands aren’t enough. Touching isn’t enough. He needs to taste, too. To smell. Leaning over, he presses a kiss to the same spot as before, just under the head—and this time lets his tongue dart out to explore. Ed often jolts and shudders when Stede’s tongue finds this spot. This morning, he just sighs a little.

But this, too, is something Stede loves; every time he does this, Ed is both familiar and new. Stede knows the terrain here—the map of Ed’s body will live in his head and his heart until he draws his last breath—but every time he visits, he forges a new path, landmarked by each sound and movement Ed gifts to him.

“What about here, hmm?” he asks, and swipes his tongue over a different spot, a little further down Ed’s shaft. Stede hears another sigh, and feels the slightest shift of Ed’s sleeping body. He kisses yet another spot, adding a bit of suction just for fun. This time, Ed does give a little shudder, which makes Stede smile. “I had a feeling you’d enjoy that. And look, love, something new for me to taste…”

A little pearl of fluid, newly forming at the tip of Ed’s cock. How lovely to be able to watch it grow.

The angle, though better than if he’d stayed on the bed, isn’t wonderful—but for Stede’s purposes, it’ll do. Still gripping Ed in his left hand, he leans over and wraps his lips around the tip, letting the fluid that’s collected there coat his tongue. The taste is so familiar, so dear.

Would he, Stede, ever be able to sleep through something like this? He considers the question as he lavishes careful attention on the velvety head of Ed’s cock. He’s been a nervous sort of person for most of his life; a boy too often pranked became a man too easily startled. But then, until very recently and for much the same reason, he never would have thought Ed capable of sleeping through this sort of thing either.

“You told me yourself that you’ve spent most of your life sleeping with one eye open.” Stede doesn’t really know why he feels compelled to narrate Ed’s own life to him—but what is this morning about, if not following his compulsions without stopping to overthink them? He presses another kiss to Ed’s cock, and goes on. “You told me you were afraid of being snuck up on, of being maimed, or worse.” Another kiss. “Because you made a lot of enemies, didn’t you? One doesn’t become a pirate captain of such renown without making enemies.” And another. “So you had to protect yourself however you could. But Ed, I’m so… so very…”

His voice hitches. His chest is full to bursting, and he has to take a quick moment to steady himself.

“Ed. My love. I’m so very glad that that part of your life has ended. And I’m so very grateful that you feel safe now. With me. That you feel safe enough to… to just sleep.”

Stede’s right hand ventures lower, first cupping Ed’s balls, then dipping into the humid space just behind them—that sensitive patch of skin that sometimes makes Ed shout, sometimes makes him melt. This morning, Ed moans, and Stede looks up.

“You like that, darling?” he asks quietly, just in case Ed’s awoken. His index finger brushes back and forth, back and forth, and Ed’s eyes remain closed.

His finger continues to move slowly, almost idly, and Stede watches as more fluid pearls at the tip of Ed’s cock. Mesmerized, he watches the pearl grow, watches it begin to drip, and leans over to catch it with the flat of his tongue. Then he does it all over again. And again. He feels lazy and content, like a cat in a sunbeam. He could do this all day, he thinks.

But then, as he runs his tongue over Ed’s cockhead for the seventh or nineteenth or hundredth time, Ed shivers.

Inhales sharply.

“Whrrydoing?”

Stede’s hands go still. He lifts his head to look. Sure enough, up there on the pillow, Ed’s blinking in the morning sun. He doesn’t seem defensive, or wary, or any of the other things Stede was half-afraid he would be. He just seems sort of bemused. And very, very sleepy.

“I’m having breakfast,” says Stede.

Ed’s chest hitches as he sharply inhales. “You’re…”

“Having breakfast,” Stede repeats. He catches the next little pearl with his index finger, then moves toward the head of the bed and offers it to Ed. “It’s delicious. You should try some.”

Ed’s lips part, and Stede presses inside. As Ed swipes at Stede’s fingertip with his tongue, his gaze grows sharper. Less bleary. The swiping turns into suction, then into Ed pulling Stede down for a kiss. He tastes like morning, like sleep, and a little like his own spend.

“You finally did it,” Ed says, when the kiss ends.

Stede nods, a bit shyly. “You were pressed up against me when I awoke. You looked so… so very… I mean, I couldn’t not…”

“Glad you did,” says Ed, stretching a little. “Fuckin’ nice way to wake up, your mouth all over me.”

“I quite enjoyed it myself,” says Stede. Which might be a bit of an understatement.

“How long was I out?” Ed asks.

“All night, I think.”

Rolling his eyes, Ed says, “You know what I mean. How long were you, like, doing stuff to me?”

“Oh, of course,” says Stede with a little laugh—and then pauses. He was so caught up in Ed’s body that if any time passed at all, he definitely didn’t notice. “I don’t know. A while? I think?”

“Well, what did you do?” Ed presses, his eyes glinting. “Caught you sucking my dick, fucking around with my balls—so, what else?”

“It wasn’t sucking.”

“Hmm?”

Stede clears his throat. He can feel his face heating, but he keeps speaking. Maybe it’s boldness left over from before, when he could say absolutely anything and nobody would hear. “I hadn’t started sucking yet, by the time you woke up. I was taking my time.” Ed’s eyes go a fraction wider, and he continues: “I would have gotten to the sucking part eventually. Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

Cheeks flaming, Stede says, “Or maybe I’d’ve just kept you hard and leaking for as long as I could.”

“Jesus—”

“Hours,” Stede says, as his hand finds Ed’s cock again. Holds it loosely, just like before. “Days.”

Ed’s cock jerks in Stede’s hand. His pupils are huge. “Stede, mate, what the fuck—”

“But I don’t think you’d have the patience for that sort of thing, would you,” Stede adds. He gives Ed a little stroke—a little twist of his wrist. “Not while you’re awake, anyway.”

This time, Ed just whimpers.

“Speaking of which, now that you are awake, shall I make you come with my hand or my mouth?” Stede asks, smiling down at his love. “Or maybe both? Your choice.”

“However you did it for yourself,” Ed says breathlessly. “Do the same for me.”

Stede frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“You know, like, if you used my hand to get off, use your hand to get me off now. If you fucked my thighs, maybe I could fuck yours. See?”

All at once, Stede does see. Ed thinks Stede has orgasmed already, when in fact Stede has spent the whole morning so focused on Ed that pursuing his own pleasure never even occurred to him. It’s not that he isn’t turned on—he very, very much is—but it’s entirely background noise.

Something must be showing on Stede’s face, because Ed’s eyes narrow in what looks like confusion. “You did get off, right?”

“I—well, no—”

“Stede!” Ed laughs. “That was part of the point—you having your way with me however you want.”

Something tightens in Stede’s chest. Something that makes him feel protective—of himself, maybe, or of Ed. He isn’t sure. But there’s one thing he is absolutely sure of.

“I did have my way with you,” he says quietly. “I did exactly what I wanted to do. I touched you, I tasted you. I took my time with you. I told you—”

He clamps his mouth shut.

But Ed’s gaze sharpens. “Told me what?”

“Oh, all kinds of things,” Stede says, his hand still holding Ed’s cock. He gives it a quick little stroke, then another.

Ed groans at the movement, but refuses to be distracted. “What kinds of things?”

“Just… things. I told you what I was doing to you. Asked if you liked it. And I…” …waxed poetic about your cock. Worshiped it with my fingers and my tongue. Claimed it as my own. It isn’t as though Stede’s embarrassed to have said or done any of those things. Goodness knows he’s laid himself far barer than that in Ed’s company. No, what makes him pause and consider is the fact that nothing he said was quite meant for Ed’s waking ears. Those particular words were between Stede and the quiet morning air. Between Stede and himself, really. “And I… told you that I loved you. In a lot of different ways.”

It's not a lie. Just not the whole truth. Stede can practically see Ed considering whether to ask for more specifics. He wonders what will happen if he does. He wonders whether he’ll fib a little or tell the whole truth, even if the latter feels strangely like failing to keep a secret.

But the moment passes. With a grin, Ed says, “Well, I love you too, you fuckin’ weirdo. Use my mouth.”

Stede blinks. “Do you mean my mouth? I asked—”

“Yeah, you asked, and I haven’t changed my mind. Get me off the same way you got yourself off.” Ed’s grin grows sly. “Which means you first. Get up here.”

At first, Stede isn’t sure what Ed means. But then Ed grabs Stede’s pillow and layers it atop his own, propping his head up just a little bit more—and then Stede understands perfectly. Standing, he climbs onto the bed and straddles Ed, lifting the fabric of his nightshirt enough that that, as he places one knee on each side of Ed’s chest, it won’t stretch too far and rip.

“No, take it all the way off,” Ed says. “I wanna see you.”

So Stede does.

Ed’s hands have already started wandering up Stede’s thighs, across his hips, landing on the cheeks of his arse. Urging him forward. And so forward he goes, until his cock, which has been half-hard for quite some time now, nudges at Ed’s bottom lip, leaving a smear of wet in its wake.

Ed’s tongue darts out to lick it away. “Mmm, yeah, that’s the good shit. Want me to close my eyes? You can pretend I’m still asleep.”

Stede reaches down, tracing Ed’s temple with one finger. “No, I don’t think so. You did say you want to see me, and I… I think I’d like that too. I think I’d like you to watch me.”

Something warm blooms just behind Ed’s eyes—but before he can reply, Stede uses his cock to part Ed’s lips. Tilting his head back ever so slightly, Ed opens wide, hands still firmly clutching Stede’s arse. As Stede sinks into the glorious wet heat of Ed’s mouth, he sighs. It only takes a few lazy rolls of his hips before he’s fully hard.

He moves slowly in and out, slowly, slowly, relishing the feeling of his cockhead scraping the roof of Ed’s mouth, then the back of his throat. Back and forth he goes, back and forth, watching Ed’s eyes all the while. Ed swallows around him once, then twice. His eyes water a little, as they often do when Stede does this, and Stede carefully wipes the wetness away.

“Would you mind sucking a little, my love?” Stede asks. When Ed’s throat begins to move around him, sending tremors of pleasure up his spine, he smiles. “Ah, good. Thank you. That’s lovely. See, if you’d still been asleep, I couldn’t have asked you to do that.”

Ed hums; it sounds like agreement.

“Not that I don’t love you asleep,” Stede adds, his thumb swiping again at the corner of Ed’s eye, “but I daresay I love you far more when you’re awake.”

Another hum. Ed’s grip on Stede’s arse tightens. Leaning up and breathing through his nose, he pulls Stede impossibly closer, taking him deeper, deeper, all the way to the hilt. Stede can feel Ed’s throat gripping his cockhead. He can feel Ed’s bottom lip brushing against his balls.

The tremors threaten to become an earthquake. Lightning crackles in his veins. “God,” he says, pressing his hips to Ed’s mouth. “My god, Ed…”

Mischief flashes in Ed’s liquid eyes as he briefly looks up again. He does something with his tongue. And then he hums, and he does the tongue thing again, and the lightning becomes a whole storm and the earthquake isn’t just a threat anymore. Stede clutches at Ed’s shoulders and, as pleasure sings through him, Stede’s world narrows to the incomparable feeling of Ed’s throat constricting around him again, again, again.

When he levels out again, and Ed’s grip loosens, and he pulls back enough to slip out, Ed wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Stede sits back, arse landing squarely on Ed’s belly, just below his ribs; Ed makes a little oof noise, then laughs. And licks his lips.

“You really think you could’ve slept through that?” Stede asks, once he’s certain he can speak in complete sentences again.

“Dunno,” says Ed. “Maybe not. I’d be into finding out though.” He tilts his head a little. “D’you think you could?”

“Me!” says Stede with a laugh. “I think I’d wake up as soon as you touched me. Although…” His face heats again. He didn’t expect to be saying this, but now that the words are on the tip of his tongue, he finds that they’re utterly true. “Although you’re certainly welcome to try.”

“…I am?” Ed looks intrigued.

Stede nods. “If you like. And if I do wake up right away—well, it seems like a marvelous way to be woken up.”

“It certainly fuckin’ is,” says Ed. “Extremely, one hundred percent, can confirm. Waking up with your mouth on my dick, absolutely aces.”

Stede leans down for a kiss. As he tastes himself on Ed’s tongue, he thinks of the bleary noises Ed made when he first woke. Of the way his face changed when he realized what Stede was doing. Of the cozy comfort that lingered after—is still, in fact, lingering now. Now that he’s thinking about it, he is curious to feel it all from the other side.

“Aces,” he echoes, as the kiss ends.

“Mmm, yeah,” says Ed. “Speaking of your mouth on my dick, though. Can we, uh…”

“Hmm?” Stede says—and then realizes. Despite his intentions, he hasn’t yet finished what he started earlier. “Oh! Goodness, I’m sorry, let me just…”

He moves down to the foot of the bed, positioning himself between Ed’s thighs. And as he puts his mouth to work, Ed swears and clutches at the blankets. It takes almost no time at all for Stede to bring him to the brink of pleasure, and then over the edge.

After Ed spills into his mouth, after he swallows it all and licks him clean, after he feels Ed’s cock soften slowly in his hand—after all that, Stede lets himself be pulled up to the head of the bed. He opens his arm wide, and Ed scoots closer, tucking himself into the space that he’s long since claimed as his own. His head on Stede’s chest, one hand just below his ribs. One of Stede’s hands wanders up and begins stroking his hair.

“Thank you,” Ed says, after a while. “For trying that.”

Still a bit muzzy from everything that’s just happened between them, Stede says, “Trying what? I do that all the time. Love doing that.”

“No, no, not that last bit,” says Ed. “Although, honestly—I mean, yeah, thanks for that, too. But I meant the first bit. The you-doing-stuff-to-me-while-I-was-still-sleeping bit. You looked a little weirded out last week when I said you should try it, so I thought you might not—and, I mean, it would’ve been fine if you never did. Honestly fine. Not everything is everyone’s jam, you know? But… I’m glad you did. Is all I’m saying.”

Still idly stroking Ed’s hair, Stede says, “I’m glad I did, too. I liked it.”

“You did?” Ed’s hand is wandering now, as it often does when they lie like this. Down Stede’s chest, across his belly, lingering over the pair of scars there. “You sure?’

“Positive,” says Stede.

Ed hums happily, his hand still wandering. His fingers curl briefly around the softened shape of Stede’s cock, and then they move on, ghosting little touches over his hips, his thighs, and back up his side.

After another long moment, Ed speaks again: “Whatever you told me when I was asleep…”

Stede feels another little pang of protectiveness at the reminder, though not nearly as potent as before. He still remembers everything he said. Probably verbatim. He’ll tell Ed, he decides. If Ed asks, he’ll tell him.

But instead, what Ed asks is, “Was it anything I didn’t already know?”

Twisting a lock of Ed’s hair between his thumb and forefinger, Stede considers all of his earlier words from this new angle.

“No,” he replies truthfully.

Ed tilts his head enough to press a kiss to Stede’s chest, just under his collarbone. He says, simply, “All right.”

Ed’s hand keeps roaming. Stede tightens his arm around Ed’s shoulder, closing his eyes in order to feel it all more fully. He is never leaving this bed again.

Just as he thinks that, however, his stomach rumbles. Loudly.

Stede opens his eyes again. “Well, apparently I’m hungry,” he says, not bothering to hide his irritation.

Ed laughs. “Thought you just had breakfast, mate.”

Stede smiles, the taste of Ed’s spend still lingering on his tongue. “Mmm. Although that was quite the exquisite aperitif, I’m afraid I’ll require something a bit more substantial for my main course. Unless you think you can give me a second helping?”

Snorting a laugh, Ed pinches the soft flesh of Stede’s belly. “Fuck you, mate, you know I can’t. Maybe in a few hours, but definitely not now.”

“Breakfast it is, then,” says Stede. “Here, let me up. No, no, you stay where you are. I’ll bring us something.”

Stede looks around for something to wear, then quickly decides not to bother. Ed, watching him, stretches luxuriantly. Reaches up, folds his arms behind his head. Crosses his legs at the ankle. Watching Stede with a sleepy smile, he says, “Can’t promise I’ll still be awake when you get back.”

“Oh no!” Stede says with a laugh as he heads for the kitchen. “Whatever will I do?”