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Stede knew, Ed realized with a start. He knew what he was doing.
It was easy to underestimate him. The man could be an idiot at times, after all. But he was leaning into this asshole's touch and feeling up her arm and shooting sly glances Ed's way—and surely even Stede wasn't that stupid.
It was another posh party. Stede hated these things with a passion, and they'd lost their touch of novelty for Ed, too, after the first disastrous time with the melon spoon and the fire (though he'd always have a soft spot for the moment with the silk after). It couldn't be denied, though, that these things were handy for scoping out which high-quality goods would be carted through what trade routes and when. It was one of Stede's funny upper-crust things that Ed had taken and run with. At this point, the parties fit so snugly into their day-to-day operations that Ed could barely remember how he'd gotten his tip-offs before. It had even gotten kind of fun, fucking around with rich assholes, eating their fancy food, and then robbing them blind not a month after.
Well, it was fun. Until Stede started fucking flirting .
"It's an incredible fabric," Stede was saying to the woman sat next to him on the infuriatingly small loveseat. He ran his fingers down her sleeve.
Ed narrowed his eyes from his vantage point near the canapés.
She giggled. "Isn't it? You have fine taste, Baron Dashwood. Most men don't appreciate a high-quality weave like this one."
Ed's blood boiled as he watched Stede lean in further and murmur, "I'm not most men.” By the rapidly weakening grasp Ed was maintaining on his self-control, he restrained himself from throttling Stede over the coffee table.
“That he’s not,” said Ed cheerily, striding over to the couches, dropping into a nearby armchair, and taking an inappropriately deep swig of champagne. He shot Stede a sharp-edged look. “He’s actually much stupider.”
“Ah, Duke Wyndham,” said Stede. He glanced his way and immediately looked back to the woman by his side. “Miranda, this is the friend I was telling you about!”
“How nice to make your acquaintance,” said Miranda, who sounded as if she had already forgotten Ed’s fake name. “We were just discussing my dress for the evening. Did you know,” said the woman in lowered tones, “they say the Gentleman Pirate himself commissioned a frock coat out of this very same fabric.”
“Do they really?” Stede’s eyebrows had shot up at the mention of his moniker, but he managed to pass it off as mild surprise. “Well, I’m certain you wear it better.” The cheesy line made Ed’s blood boil, too, but it wasn’t a bad tactic to turn the conversation away from a sensitive topic.
“I don’t know, I’ve heard he’s quite dashing.”
“Oh—“ Stede was smiling that sideways little smile that always crept across his face when given the opportunity to discuss his own reputation. “Well. I hadn’t heard that.”
“Oh, he is!” The woman was leaning far too close to Stede again.
Ed felt distinctly like the third wheel in the conversation. Which shouldn’t have been the case considering one of the participants was his own goddamn boyfriend.
“What’s so dashing about him, then?”
“Oh, all the things that make a man good-looking: they say he’s well dressed…” She had a hand on Stede’s broad chest now, fucking—groping him. She ran the hand up to his jawline. “Clean-shaven.”
Ed rubbed his own short beard self-consciously.
“Strong arms,” she continued, and now she was feeling up his arms.
Ed dug his fingernails into the fabric of his armrest.
“Other…” she put her other hand on Stede’s thigh, and began to trail it upwards, “amenities.”
“Sounds boring to me,” Ed cut in, standing up abruptly and making his best attempt to shoot daggers into Stede with his eyes. “Dashwood, gotta borrow you for a moment.”
Stede looked up with an expression that was impossible to parse. Smugness, perhaps? Annoyance? God, he was such a dick, and the dickishness was only amplified at these parties, when he had his little heeled boots laced up to his knees and his wig coiffed immaculately upon his head. "Apologies, Duke Wyndham," said Stede, his hand now resting on the woman's knee, "but I'm actually in the middle of something—"
"Not anymore." Ed hauled him up by the lapels and dragged him out of the room before Stede could get another word out.
"Well, I—we'll talk again later, Baron," called the women after them, looking scandalized.
Ed shoved Stede against a wall in a little curtained alcove in the next room over, relatively secluded from the rest of the party so as not to cause any disturbance when he ripped Stede's ears off his head and stuck them on one of those stupid miniature meat skewers. "What the fuck was that?" Ed growled.
"Ed, really," started Stede.
"Don't Ed, really me!" He shook Stede by the collar. "You were flirting! That was flirting!"
"Yes, good eye."
Ed gaped. "Right in front of me!"
"Darling," said Stede, far too gently, placing a hand over Ed's where it was gripping at the fabric of his cravat, "You have to know it didn't mean anything."
"I don't know that, actually."
"You would, if you thought with your head for a moment rather than your crotch!"
"Oh, that's rich, coming from you—"
"Edward!" Stede pried Ed's hands off his shirt and gripped them tightly between his own. He was definitely annoyed now. But he also sounded... amused? "I am in a relationship with you. Monogamously. However, if your trust in my loyalty is not enough to comfort you, might you also consider: firstly, that I am not and have never been interested in women."
"You were married to one," snapped Ed, but didn't attempt to remove his hands from Stede's grasp.
"And you know very well how that worked out—"
Ed opened his mouth to remind Stede the particular complications of that defense, but Stede cut him off.
"And secondly , you may consider that I've just stolen every accessory that woman had on her." Stede let go of Ed's hands and shook out his left sleeve into his right palm. Strings of pearls and gold chains slithered out. He brandished them with wide eyes.
"That can't be every—"
Stede reached into his breast pocket and procured a silver pocket watch, a number of jeweled rings, and a pair of diamond earrings.
Ed narrowed his eyes. "Still—"
Stede dug around in his trouser pocket. He pulled out a pair of fine silk garters. "Especially for you, darling."
Ed clenched his jaw. On one hand, sure, not a bad score. And Ed certainly couldn't say he'd never robbed a woman of her valuables under the guise of seduction before. But even so: "And how did you get those off her?"
Stede, impossibly, blushed. "She got handsy first."
"Right," Ed growled. He turned to leave. Fuck this.
"Hold on."
Stede had grabbed his sleeve to pull him back. His pale fingers dug into the fabric of Ed's overcoat, a beautiful deep blue embroidered with florals, which Stede had chosen for him during their last raid. It brought out the richness of his eyes, he'd said. Fuck, even when Ed was furious with Stede, he was still so in love with him it hurt.
"I'm sorry," said Stede, wearing his best puppy dog eyes. "I should have at least told you first if I was planning to flirt with someone. Even if it was just to steal things."
Ed felt a bit of his facade start to crack. "You should have."
"If you prefer, I'll get rid of that tactic altogether. No more flirting to distract people while I pickpocket."
"No," said Ed quickly, because that was just silly. "No, it's fine."
The corners of Stede's lips turned up. "It was very sweet of you to be jealous—"
"Jealous?" Ed frowned. He looked around to see if anyone had heard that. Ed wasn't jealous. He was fucking Blackbeard. He wasn't fucking jealous. He stepped closer to keep the conversation private. "I wasn't jealous."
Stede raised an eyebrow.
"I wasn't!"
"I said it was sweet!"
"Well I don't care if it's sweet or not sweet or whatever, I'm just saying I wasn't fucking jealous."
"Right. So you pulled me into this corner just to have a nice little chat and then leave me to go back to flirting, did you?"
"No." Ed realized all at once that they were very close together. Probably because he'd been up in Stede's face about the jealous thing. Which was fine, because it wasn't a thing at all. He'd just pulled Stede away to—to check in. Or something.
"No?" said Stede. "So what exactly are we doing here?" His eyes flicked down to Ed's lips, then back up again. He had never been a very subtle man.
"Dunno." Ed let himself crowd Stede back against the wall, because he wasn't a fucking saint, was he? "Teaching you a lesson?"
"Is that what this is?"
They were close enough that Stede's breath was brushing Ed's lips now. Ed reached to the side, keeping eye contact, and fumbled until he caught the curtain at the mouth of their little alcove. He pulled it shut.
"Yeah," said Ed.
"Yes?"
"Yes." Ed had forgotten what he was saying yes to.
"Hm," Stede hummed, practically into Ed's mouth now, any semblance of personal space scattered to the wind. He pursed his lips. "Sounds a bit like you're jealous."
Ed kissed him so hard their teeth clacked together.
If Stede's reaction was anything to go by, though, he hardly minded. His hands fisted into Ed's hair, no doubt ruining the perfect bun he'd managed after five failed attempts, but Ed couldn't possibly give less of a shit. There were far more important things: the twist of Stede's fingers against his scalp and the solid heat of his chest and the slightly chapped lips that sent butterflies darting around in Ed's stomach. Every kiss with Stede was wonderful—chaste pecks hello and deep kisses during sex and sweet, lingering makeouts, Ed couldn't pick a favorite if you put a gun to his head—but this kiss was one for the books. It was the kind of kiss that took your breath away and filled your lungs with electricity. By the time they broke apart for Ed to nose down the side of Stede's neck, they were both panting like they'd just run a marathon.
Stede chuckled breathlessly.
"Got something to say?" asked Ed from just below his ear.
"I told you—" Stede cut himself off with a gasp. Probably because Ed's thigh was grinding into his crotch.
"Told me what?" Ed pulled back to look him in the eye.
Stede was a complete mess already, eyes unfocused, his lips wet and red, a blush high on his cheeks. He looked like someone’s clumsy drawing of a horny fool. It would have been hilarious if it wasn't so hot. Stede swallowed thickly and opened his mouth to speak again, but only managed a funny sort of half-swallowed syllable before Ed was pressing his thigh between Stede's legs harder. He was already hard.
"No, go on," Ed said, grabbing Stede's hip to keep him where he wanted him. He set a slow rhythm. "Say it."
"Mmh, Ed," he breathed, looking very distracted.
He pulled Stede down onto his thigh by the waist, coaxing until Stede matched his own thrusts, his head falling back against the wall. His other hand wandered across Stede's chest lazily. "You were so eager to tell me before."
"You—" The breath rushed out of his lungs as Ed's hand reached his nipple. "Jesus Christ."
"Try again."
"You—God, you were jealous—"
Ed dipped down and bit into his neck, right above the knot of his stupid frilly cravat, and felt him deflate beneath him with a choked-off sound. He held him where he wanted him and sucked his skin between his teeth, tasting cologne and the weird expensive powder rich white people put on their faces—which Stede hadn't put on tonight, had he?
Ed twisted a hand into the back of Stede's wig and ripped it off, tossing it to the floor. Stede opened his mouth, ostensibly to protest such rough treatment of his finery, but barely got the start of a word out before Ed took a handful of his real hair, right by the nape of his neck, and wrenched his head down to meet his eyes.
"You let her touch you. Not just for a minute, you really let her feel you up.”
"Wh—how long were you standing there watching—"
"I'm not a fucking creeper, Stede, you've got her face powder all over your neck!"
Stede ran a hand under his own jaw and then rubbed his fingers together. "Ah."
Ed jerked Stede's head back by the hair, pulling a very satisfying little breathy noise from Stede's throat. "How d'you get this stuff off?" Ed asked into Stede's neck.
"Just, um, water, usually."
"Perfect," said Ed, and licked Stede's throat.
"Thhaaah, that's not..." Stede trailed off, melting into Ed's touch, his hips tilting back down to find friction on his thigh. After a moment, he seemed to remember what he'd meant to say and continued, "Mh, Ed, I don't think that's meant to be edible."
"Pfft," snorted Ed, moving to the other side of his neck. "What could be in there?"
"Well, oh, that... ah, lead, for one thing..."
"Metal? Probably fine."
"Ed, I need," Stede said, and then didn't finish his sentence, likely distracted by the tongue on his earlobe and the hands on his ass guiding him into a faster grind.
"What do you need?" Ed sucked a mark into the skin beneath his ear.
"Mmm," said Stede, which was not words.
"Ask me for it."
"Ah, please," he said through gasping breaths, starting to clench his legs around Ed's thigh, a hand scrabbling at the back of Ed's coat.
Ed grinned against his throat and maneuvered Stede's face back down. He was really warming up to keeping a grip on Stede's hair; sometimes the man needed a leash. "Still unclear on what you need, sweetheart."
From directly outside the curtain separating their alcove from the rest of the party, someone laughed loudly. Stede went still. For a few moments there was only the steady gust of Stede's pants over Ed's lips and the twitch of his cock on his leg. Then Stede swallowed and managed, "I need to come."
"Really?" Ed carded his hand through Stede's curls and pushed his thigh against his cock just once. "And why should I let you?"
An edge of irritation curled the corner of Stede's lip. "Edward, honestly."
Ed ran his hands up from Stede's waist across his chest, thumbing across his nipples and pinching as his sides, and kissed him sweetly. Stede whined into it. Ed bit his bottom lip as he pulled back, grinning. "Well?"
"Darling, please." It wasn't a very convincing plea, colored as it was by exasperation.
"Flirting with someone else right in front of me," Ed murmured, setting a slow pace again against Stede's cock. "Groping her." He pinched Stede' nipple, drawing a little moan out of him. "Fucking shameless, is what it is."
Stede began to rock against him again, his breaths short. He was beautiful like this, right on the edge, his face twisted up in desperation, his hair mussed beyond saving.
"Tell me why I should believe you when you say you're mine," said Ed. He gave him a biting kiss, then said into his mouth, "Tell me why I shouldn't just leave you here behind this curtain with your dick still hard in your pants."
On the next roll of Ed's thigh, Stede let out an unfortunately loud and high pitched ah , and slapped a hand over his own mouth, wide-eyed, the both of them suddenly hyper-aware of the murmur of the party around them.
Ed reached up and pried Stede's fingers away. "Tell me," he said, much lower now.
"I love you," Stede whispered, with far more tenderness than the moment warranted.
Ed softened against his own will.
"You know that, don't you, Ed?" Stede gently removed his fingers from where Ed had them grasped in his fist and twined their hands together. "I'm yours, darling. Only yours."
"Stede," he said, suddenly feeling off-balance. He found his footing by kissing him again, clutching tight to his hand and licking into his mouth, pinching at the softness above his waistband and grinding his thigh against Stede's cock, more firmly than before.
"Fuck, yours, Ed," gasped Stede when they broke apart, his voice breaking.
"That's right," said Ed, nodding, shocked to realize he was on the edge too somehow, even though his dick was only barely rubbing against Stede's leg like this. "That's right, come on—just like that—"
"Ed," Stede gasped, throwing his head back until it hit the wall, squirming on Ed's thigh and holding onto his hand so hard it almost hurt. "Ed—please, Ed, Ed—"
Ed shoved into Stede more, trapping him against the wall for leverage and pinning his hand next to his head. Something uncontrollable was overcoming him as he ground against him, feeling Stede clench his legs around his thigh, and the friction on his own cock shouldn’t have been nearly enough but he still felt himself barreling towards orgasm.
"Ed, Ed, Ed," Stede was saying repeatedly, holding onto his name like a lifeline.
"God, you're beautiful—look so good like this, go on, Stede, come on my thigh—"
Stede moaned high in his throat, his eyes squeezed shut, grabbed at Ed's shoulder, and came so hard that Ed had to hold him up.
"Fuck," moaned Ed, burying his face in Stede's neck, and, impossibly, came against his leg.
Ed didn't know that they'd ever come nearly at the same time like this before; it was an incredible feeling, to be swept off his feet by his own pleasure and feel Stede convulsing with his own simultaneously. They must have looked like a pair of idiots, standing there holding onto each other, barely staying upright, moaning into each other's shoulders like a couple of horny teenagers, but Ed didn't care a whit.
Ed came down to the feeling of Stede pressing kisses into his neck and rubbing circles with his thumb on the back of his hand. The aftershocks of his orgasm zapped through him in time with Stede's kisses as tried to catch his breath.
Stede chuckled quietly, the vibrations of it catching on Ed's skin. "I can't believe we just did that," he said, sounding hoarse.
"Mmh," said Ed in agreement. He turned his face into Stede's hair, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of his shampoo. "Fuck, that was hot."
Stede pulled back, taking Ed's chin between his thumb and forefinger. He kissed him, slowly, drawing Ed into the pull of his tide. They kissed for a while, sinking into each other, taking comfort in it. "I love you," said Stede.
"Love you too," said Ed. He'd said it before, of course, but he was still bowled over by the way the words flowed forth from his chest, easily, like they'd been waiting to burst out. "I love you," he said again just to hear himself say it.
"You know I would never—well, Ed, of course I wouldn't—"
"I know," said Ed, because of course he did.
"I mean, if you think I could ever feel anything like that with a woman—"
"I know, Stede."
"Not that the gender would matter, of course! But really, with Mary—if I could have done that with her I daresay our problems would have been solved! Partially, I suppose, not that—of course, if it were anyone else but you, you have to know—"
"Stede," said Ed warmly. "I know."
"Alright."
"Sorry I got hot headed back there."
"I'd hardly call that hot headed. You were fully within your rights to be upset, darling."
Ed smiled. "Can't imagine what you'd do if it had been me."
Stede's brow furrowed. "Well. I think I'd be fine."
"Fine?" Ed raised an eyebrow. "Last time you saw me flirt with someone you set a ship of Frenchmen on fire."
"I set that ship on fire because they were mean to you!" said Stede defensively, draping his arms loosely around Ed's neck. "I had no issue up until that point."
"I dunno, mate, didn't seem too happy when we were talking about me fingering her dents or whatever."
Stede went pink again, which was objectively very funny considering what they'd just been doing. "I am mature enough to recognize when jokes like that are just in good fun. I trust you, Ed."
"Are you calling me immature?"
"Well—"
This particular argument could last them a good while, and so it continued as they put themselves to rights, attempted to salvage Stede's ruined wig from the floor, and left the alcove to rob the rest of the party blind.
—
Lady Miranda Astley, thrown off balance by the sudden kidnapping of her handsome conversation partner and the subsequent interruption of her plans to get laid at this fancy party, wandered into the next room to find some gossip to latch on to. What she found was not gossip, but certainly just as interesting.
Nobody else in the room seemed to have noticed, but Miranda had always had a keen ear, and it didn’t take her long to figure out where the odd shuffling and moaning sounds were coming from.
I thought he seemed a bit queer , she thought to herself, as she listened in on a few moments of Dashwood and Wyndham’s tryst, (a bit gauche, perhaps, but if they didn’t want to be heard they shouldn’t have fucked in public, in her opinion) equal parts triumphant at having guessed and disappointed that she wouldn’t be getting laid tonight after all. Although why on Earth are they calling each other by the wrong names?
“Eavesdropping, are we?”
She spun around, red in the face at having been caught, to find a handsome woman standing behind her in a woman’s blouse and men’s trousers. “Excuse you,” Miranda said, scandalized.
The woman behind her reached around Miranda’s shoulder, the heat of her body close against her back, and twitched open the curtain just a sliver.
Miranda felt the woman freeze and looked back to find her wide-eyed.
“Is that Stede Bonnet in there having a quickie with a bloke?”
“Stede Bonnet?” Miranda frowned, sure she’d heard the name before, and gasped when it clicked. “The Gentleman Pirate?”
“My brother went to school with him,” said the woman, nodding.
“I’ll be damned,” breathed Miranda. She was unable to help herself from snatching another look before she pulled the curtain closed again. “That fucker—we were just talking about how the handsome the Gentleman Pirate is!”
“What poor taste.”
“Poor taste, indeed,” agreed Miranda, warming up to the woman considerably.
“Everyone knows self-absorption is only sexy when women do it.”
“Too true.”
The woman raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”
Miranda turned around to face her. She really did look good in those trousers, unorthodox as they were. “I think so.”
“I must say,” said the woman, leaning down a bit to catch Miranda’s eye, “you seem a fair bit self-absorbed yourself.” From behind the curtain, Dashwood began making some truly indecent noises.
Miranda frowned. “What a rude thing to say to a stranger.”
The woman smiled. It gave her dimples. “You are a woman, though, aren’t you?”
“Wh—yes?”
“Right. So it’s sexy.”
True to her intentions, Lady Miranda Astley did indeed get laid at the party. Unluckily, when she awoke the next morning in the Duchess' bed, she would be unable to locate any of the jewelry she could have sworn she'd been wearing.