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“I dunnae if ye’ve noticed,” Buttons is saying to Stede in a voice that Stede’s sure Buttons thinks is low and conspiratorial but is really quite loud, “but Cap’n– the other cap’n– isnae lookin’ too good.”
“Oh, dear,” Stede says. He’d thought that Ed had looked a bit peaked this morning and he’d let Ed insist that he was fine. This just won’t do.
Ed isn’t immediately visible, but Stede knows his preferred hiding places. He’s clambered up to the lookout where he and Stede had shared marmalade, and Stede can see the heels of his boots dangling down.
“Ed,” Stede calls, coming closer, but he doesn’t get any response. The boots do disappear from view, though, as if their wearer has pulled his feet up.
“Ed,” Stede says again. “I know you’re there. I just want to see how you’re doing.”
Still nothing.
“Edward Teach,” Stede says, in a voice very much like that of one of his Latin teachers at boarding school, “I need to see you this instant.”
That does the trick, and slowly, much more slowly than usual, Ed makes his way down. It seems like his knee is particularly bothering him, and when he comes over to Stede, his face is a bit pinched with pain.
Close up, Buttons is right; Ed does not look good. He’s sweating, which isn’t exactly new, because what else does one expect when wearing full leathers in the Caribbean, but he’s also pale and glassy-eyed.
“Ed?” Stede asks. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Hmm?” Ed says, slowly raising his eyes to meet Stede’s. “What’s that?” His voice sounds a bit odd, too, like his throat is hurting him.
“Oh, Ed,” Stede sighs. “You’re ill.”
“Not.” Ed only manages the one word, and then he breaks out into a fit of truly awful-sounding coughing, raspy and painful.
Stede doesn’t indulge that plain-faced lie with a response.
***
It takes far less coaxing than Stede had expected to get Ed to go to their quarters, which tells Stede a lot about how poorly Ed must be feeling.
Instead of getting in bed, Ed gets onto the sofa in front of the fireplace and lies down, levering himself down gingerly.
“Is your knee bothering you?” Stede asks, and Ed just makes an annoyed, huffy sound. Well, that’s certainly a ‘yes’, then.
Stede stands there for a long moment, deciding, then just does it. He gets down on his knees and gets to work on tugging Ed’s black leather boots off.
“The fuck?” Ed says hoarsely, then coughs down into his collar.
“Just making you more comfortable.”
“‘M’Blackbeard,” Ed says, pausing to clear his throat. “Never more comfortable than in m’leathers, mate.”
The fine sheen of sweat on his brow says otherwise, and he doesn’t stop Stede from finishing taking off his boots and then moving to get him out of the jacket and pants. In fact, Ed does help Stede to get him undressed, although he looks exhausted by the ordeal once they’re done and he’s redressed in one of Stede’s lighter silk dressing gowns.
“There,” Stede proclaims, beaming at him. “Much better.”
Ed shuts his eyes, rolling over onto his side, pillowing his head on his hands, hair mussed up.
“Just gonna sleep,” he mumbles, and Stede leans down to press a kiss to his clammy forehead.
Stede has an idea about getting Ed feeling better quickly, and he has a few crew members to speak to in order to make that happen. For the meantime, it’s good that Ed can rest.
***
When Stede returns from his errands around the ship, Izzy is standing at the door to the Captains’ quarters, looking thoroughly unimpressed.
“Fuckin’ pathetic,” he says, getting perhaps a bit closer to Stede than Stede would prefer for this conversation. “Blackbeard doesn’t get sick.”
Stede pauses before speaking, as he’s learned is best to do when he’s conversing with Izzy. “Israel”-- Izzy hisses at this usage of his full name, rather like an annoyed cat– “I do recall we’ve discussed that that kind of talk is not helpful. Edward ”-- and here Stede makes a point to emphasize Ed’s full name as well– “is feeling ill and I know we’re both grateful for you watching over him for me for a bit.”
Izzy looks like he’s not sure how to respond to this, so he just makes another hissing sound. Then he spits on the floor between him and Stede before he stalks off.
“Ah,” Stede says. “Very unsanitary.” He steps carefully over the spit and comes back into the quarters he shares with Ed.
Indeed, Ed is still asleep, although still clearly unwell. It looks like he’s been tossing and turning and a few strands of his long hair are stuck to his forehead.
Stede gets the furniture arranged for the next bit of his plan, and once he’s got it all together, there’s a quiet knock at the door. Stede goes to answer it as Ed stirs a bit, and soon enough Stede’s back over by the sofa, gently stroking Ed’s shoulder through the dressing gown.
“Ed,” Stede says softly. “Ed, wake up for a bit.”
Ed doesn’t come quietly into that good midday because he goes into another fit of ragged coughing almost immediately.
“I have some soup for you,” Stede tells him, helping Ed sit up against the back of the couch. “I want you to eat it. It’ll help you feel better.”
Ed does not look impressed by the bowl of broth with vegetables and pieces of chicken Stede had instructed Roach to prepare, nor does he look impressed when Stede takes it upon himself to load up a spoonful.
“M’not hungry.”
“You need to keep up your strength.”
Ed sighs, a raspy sound, but Stede won’t put the spoon down.
“It’ll get cold, Ed. Just take it.” Stede brings the spoon closer, and finally, finally , Ed takes some soup into his mouth.
It’s strange how much Stede enjoys this task- spoon-feeding Ed. He hasn’t spoonfed anyone since Louis was a baby. This is a completely different feeling, though- instead of a chore of fatherhood, he’s nourishing his lover back to health. It makes him feel good, as though despite Ed being a fearsome pirate and all, Stede still has some useful skills to bring to their partnership. And he’s not just talking about his taste in home– well, ship – décor.
The next time, Ed’s a lot more amenable to the soup. Although he shakes his head after they’re halfway through the bowl, his color looks better and he doesn’t seem as restless, instead content to curl up in bed next to Stede, falling asleep as Stede reads a book on different types of nautical knots.
The time after that, Ed finishes the whole bowl of soup and asks for more. He even eats a piece of bread with butter on it, and drinks two cups of sugary tea.
“I think you’re on the mend,” Stede tells him. “I’m glad.”
Except the next morning, despite his color looking good and his voice sounding better, Ed stays in bed, covers pulled up around his neck.
“Hmm,” Stede murmurs, sitting on the edge of the bed and gently feeling Ed’s forehead with the back of his hand. “No more fever.”
“Throat’s still a bit tetchy,” Ed says, forcing a cough.
“Hmm,” Stede repeats. “And what can I do about that?”
Ed looks uncharacteristically embarrassed, and Stede is eager to get to the bottom of this. He knows that Ed hates being ill, hates being seen as weak in any way, so could it be that he’s upset that he’s not quite over his illness?
“Felt nice when you fed me,” Ed finally manages, in a quiet voice. “Helped my throat.”
Ah. Now Stede feels like he might know exactly where this is going, and he can’t say he’s disappointed. It had felt so lovely, spoon-feeding his dear Ed back to health, that Stede had almost been disappointed when Ed had been feeling well enough to eat on his own again.
So if Ed wants to do some fuckery about feeding, Stede’s all in.
***
“All right, my love, what do you think would help your throat?” Stede can’t help the note of excitement in his voice. This is like play-acting! Except also a bit sexy!
Ed considers, shifting a bit on the pillows.
“Hmm,” Stede says, when Ed doesn’t come up with anything right away. “Roach was telling me about some new-fangled dessert he thinks he’ll be able to make. Something called ‘iced cream’?” Stede peers down at Ed, who looks interested. “It’s supposed to be cold and sweet. And I know you like your sweets.”
“I do.”
“So,” Stede straightens up. “That’s decided, then. I’ll have him make it forthwith.”
The iced cream is a hit. Ed eats all of it and looks supremely satisfied afterward, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and sighing.
“Is that better?” Stede asks, patting Ed on the thigh through the blanket.
“Mm,” Ed hums, and clears his throat. “Yes. Much better.” He grins, and catches the frill on the sleeve of Stede’s shirt, tugging him down for a kiss. He tastes sweet, and though he’s just eaten his fill of iced cream, his lips push against Stede’s hungrily.
It’s honestly too bad that Stede didn’t have more of the sweet dessert with which to ply his lover, because it seems like Ed would’ve kept on eating, kept on licking his lips until he was completely sated, so full he’d have to sleep it off.
Hmm. It’s an idea Stede will have to put more thought into later.
***
It turns out that he doesn’t have to wait long, because it’s not two days later when Ed asks Stede if he can have more dessert. Like a cake, or a tart, something like that. Ed blinks at Stede, long lashes standing out like whiskers on a cat. He’s nervous again, but Stede squeezes his knee encouragingly, and Ed manages to ask for what he wants.
“I thought that you could do… like before. With the soup. And the iced cream. Except maybe… more?”
“Mm,” Stede says. “More. I think we can manage that, yes.”
And manage it they do– Stede manages to wheedle an entire raspberry tart out of Roach, and Ed manages to put most of it in his stomach.
Stede feels like they’re two sides of the same coin, he and Ed. Both chasing the same thing but coming at it from different angles. Still, they end up at the same place eventually.
“My belly hurts.” Ed looks up at him, so sweet, so trusting. Like Stede is the person who can fix anything, can make anything better. Stede Bonnet, a man who couldn’t even handle a pampered life of being landed gentry, for goodness’ sake!
“Oh, I’m sorry, my love,” Stede says, quickly turning to put the plate with the mostly-finished tart back on the tray. “Was it too much?”
Shit. He’s really not good at this– now he’s gone and fed Ed so much that he has a bellyache.
Except that Ed doesn’t look particularly upset by this development. Instead, he’s tugging at the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up over the bloated curve of his stomach.
“Not too much,” Ed says, in that same quiet, almost embarrassed voice he’d used when he’d asked Stede to feed him. “I thought maybe you could help me out.”
This isn’t how Ed normally asks for sex, but Stede supposes it’ll work. He reaches for the button on Ed’s trousers, but Ed’s hand catches his wrist.
“Not like that. I mean,” Ed ducks his head a little and then peeks back up. “I mean you could, like, rub my belly? Maybe the other stuff a little later. But for now you could rub my belly. And I dunno, fuck it. Tell me I’m good?”
Oh. Oh . Now Stede understands.
“Hmm,” Stede murmurs, gently tracing along the edge of Ed’s stomach. “Yes. I think I can handle that. Now you just lie back, love, and let me take care of you.”
Ed immediately relaxes a little, and Stede bites his lip, pleased. A moment later, he works his fingers into Ed’s trousers again, this time not to pull out his dick but to unbutton them, giving his belly more room to breathe.
“There,” Stede says triumphantly. “That’s a bit better, isn’t it?”
Ed’s belly gives a plaintive, whining gurgle, and Stede can’t wait any longer. He puts his hands on it- surprisingly warm and taut. He hadn’t realized just how much Ed had eaten.
“Oh, darling,” Stede hums. “You ate so very well, didn’t you?”
“Maybe a bit too well,” Ed says, and then stifles a belch into his fist as Stede presses down on his stomach.
“Mm,” Stede replies. “No, not too much. You had just as much as you wanted, and it looks good on you. Having enough. Having more than enough.” He pats the top of Ed’s belly, a bit like he’s praising a dog, and Ed blushes. Stede can feel Ed’s cock stirring, and he lets a smile spread across his face, like freshly-churned butter on warm bread.
“It’s so good to see you full, Ed. Sated. Stuffed .”
Ed blushes harder and makes a little keening sound as Stede roams his hands around his belly, administering soothing little circular motions. He belches again, too slow to cover it this time, and Stede makes a soft sound of approval.
“Good, love. Let it out.”
Edward Teach keeps showing Stede new parts of himself. Stede would’ve never thought that he’d be getting turned on by feeding his lover in bed– well, feeding his lover too much – but here he is, getting hard at the sounds of Ed’s excess.
He’s not the only one, either- after a few minutes of ministering to Ed’s belly, Stede’s hands start wandering further down Ed’s waist.
“Let me take care of you,” Stede tells Ed. “Let me make you feel good.”
***
It doesn’t take long for Stede to cleverly work his hands in the way he knows Ed likes, and then get himself off afterward in even less time.
Once Stede’s gotten them both cleaned up, Ed’s leaning back against the sofa, looking relaxed in a way Stede’s rarely seen him before. Even after they have sex, Ed’s often restless, getting up to go check on things abovedeck.
This time is different. He looks sated, content. As Stede comes back to sit next to him again, Ed pats his belly and lets out a single, satisfied hiccup.
“Belly feel better?” Stede asks, and it’s perhaps a moot point– as soon as he says it, there’s the feel of cold metal in his hand. The fork.
“Just one more bite?” says Ed. And Stede, good boyfriend that he is, can’t say no.
*****