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Stede is already having misgivings about this plan.
It’ll be worth it if they pull it off, of course. And it’s true that this gala is particularly well-attended by the kind of wealthy merchants and minor nobility who are mostly likely to be sending their valuables on the ship they’re trying to capture. But after what happened last time he and Ed went to one of these parties, it feels like a risk. It’s generally much harder to burn the entire thing down and disappear without a trace when you’re several miles inland, for one thing.
They’re wearing the same outfits as last time, kept safe in the auxiliary wardrobe during what Stede has taken to calling “the difficult time” (though only in private, after Lucius’ reaction the last time he said it in front of the crew).
Stede had been prepared—even excited—to put together new looks for them, but Ed had given him puppy dog eyes and said “But it’s what we wore on our first date!” Stede had promptly turned into a puddle of mush on the deck, and there had been no further discussion on the matter.
This time, Stede had helped Ed don every stitch of the luxurious clothing, tying the ribbons in his hair and arranging the flowers just so. With the greatest of self-control, he had even been able to resist the urge to tear it all off him and drag him to bed…at least, after the second time.
So here they stand, sweating in the Trinidadian heat, while the same posh nobs hobnob around them… Well, not exactly the same posh nobs. Stede tries to avoid thinking about it, of course, but those particularly rancid examples of the aristocracy had likely all perished in the fl—
“Jeff? Jeff the accountant? Is that you?”
Both Stede and Ed’s heads snap around. A man in a powdered wig is waving enthusiastically, making his circuitous way across the ballroom towards them. As he approaches, Stede recognizes him. His heavily applied makeup, while all the rage on the Continent, isn’t quite doing a good enough job at covering up the burn marks on his face. What was the wretched man’s name again—
“Jeff, it’s me! Sebastian! From that dreadful party on the boat. You know, the one that burned down? Not exactly the best party I went to last season… But far from the worst!” The man laughs loudly at his own joke, seemingly heedless of the fact that neither of them have spoken.
Ed looks at Stede, eyebrows raised. They hadn’t discussed this particular eventuality. They hadn’t thought it would be necessary. After a moment’s thought, Stede jumps in.
“I’m afraid you must be mistaken. This is my friend—”
“—Geoff,” Ed cuts in. “I’m Geoff. With a ‘G.’ I’m a…” he glances over at Stede for help, but Stede gives him a small, helpless shrug. “... A financier?” he finishes, a touch tentatively.
“Geoff with a ‘G,’ is it?” The man looks at him, a little puzzled. “You look remarkably like a man I met last year, and his name was also Jeff, though I didn’t catch the spelling. Are you sure—”
“Of course I’m sure!” Ed scoffs, then backpedals as the man looks at him, offended. “I mean… I’m sure I would remember a, uh, refined gentleman such as yourself.” As the less-than-refined looking gentleman in question settles his ruffled feathers, Ed forges on. “You must’ve met my cousin, Jeff. Old family name, you know. Bet he had a great big beard, right?”
“Right, yes. I do recall him having a beard. Could swear you were dressed the same though…”
“Old family tailor, too!” Stede cuts in brightly. “Hello there, Fitzroy St. Appleton, at your service. I—”
“Sebastian Bourbon-Montpensier, the pleasure is all mine,” Sebastian (right, the one with the illegitimate daughter) says, taking Ed’s hand and bowing over it, a wide, stupid smile on his face.
Stede stifles an indignant huff. He’d spent a lot of time coming up with a new persona for the event, given that both Godfrey Thornrose and Stede Bonnet were presumed to be dead, and this awful man hasn’t even let him get started.
(Fitzroy’s family has a prolific banana orchard, having left the apple business behind in England. Fitroy himself is the third son of the family, but has recently come into his own independent fortune with a racehorse stable, which is why he’s looking to send significant funds back to the Continent. If anyone had bothered asking.)
The sound of Ed’s warm laugh, mixing with the odious, whinnying cackle of Sebastian whatever-his-name-is brings Stede back to the present.
“No, you didn’t!” Ed is saying, his tone incredulous and amused.
“I did! Bought out the entire shop, immediately. If I’m going to be stuck on this grubby little island, at least I can be attired in the height of Parisian fashion. And speaking of…” Sebastian runs his hand down Ed’s sleeve, no doubt leaving greasy fingerprints on it, if his mostly empty plate of hors d'oeuvres is anything to judge by. “This family tailor of yours, does he happen to be from Paris? Because—”
“Well, Geoff and I were just going to get ourselves a drink. Lovely to meet you, Sebastian,” Stede interjects with a brittle smile, taking Ed’s arm and all but dragging him away from the conversation.
“What was that about, mate? I thought chatting with the nobs was what we were here to do.”
“‘Geoff-with-a-G?’ Really?”
“I panicked, okay? Didn’t expect to see any of that lot here. I don’t think he noticed, though.”
“No, I suppose not,” Stede admits. “Though I’m not sure he’d notice much of anything, as drunk as he seems to be. At least, I hope he is. If he’s sober, I have to say, I find his sense of humour sorely lacking. Though you certainly seemed to find it funny.”
“I was ingratiating myself, just like you suggested. Getting inside his defences. Real espionage shit.”
“I’m sure that’s not all he’d like you to be getting inside,” Stede mutters sullenly into the glass of frankly mediocre champagne he’s acquired from a passing waiter. He looks over at a quiet chuckle from Ed. “What?”
“Are you jealous?”
“Jealous? Me? No, of course not. Why would I be jealous of that… that wretched, poorly attired fop? If someone convinced him that that’s what they’re wearing in Paris, he’s as gullible as he is tacky. And did you see his wig? We’ve been at sea for months, and even I know that it’s over a year out of fashion. Can’t even see why they let him in, really. Honestly, Ed. Why would I be jealous of him?”
Ed says nothing through Stede’s diatribe, just watching him with a slight smile on his face. He waits for a moment, to make sure Stede is done, then leans in, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Stede’s downturned lips.
“I’m just doing what we agreed, love. We haven’t gotten any other leads so far.”
“Surely someone else around here has more useful information than that—”
“Why don’t you make the rounds, I’ll stick with Sebastian? There’s lots of other poorly attired fops here, and the night’s still young.” Ed gives him a wink that’s clearly meant to cheer him up. It almost works, but there’s an ugly, simmering resentment inside him that bubbles its way to the surface.
“Just don’t try to shoot anyone if they upset you again, alright?”
He regrets it as soon as it’s out of his mouth, as Ed’s lips press together in a thin line.
“Ed, I—”
“Yeah, mate. Got it. Not gonna shoot anyone.” He turns his back on Stede and heads into the crowd. With a sigh, Stede downs the rest of his unpleasant champagne, leaves the glass on a table, and sets off in search of answers of his own. The sooner they can find out what they need to know, the sooner they can be out of this awful place.
The search for information goes… badly. Stede does his best to mingle, making small talk where he can, but his attention keeps coming back to Ed. He even misses a perfectly good opportunity to lament the weevils that have been damaging the banana crop this summer because he’s staring daggers at Sebastian’s back as he offers Ed canapes from his plate.
It’s not that he’s jealous, though. Of course not. There’s nothing to be jealous of. Ed is playing his role admirably, and Stede appreciates his acting ability. You’d certainly have to be quite the thespian to make Sebastian Bourbon-Montpensier think that his dull anecdotes and blatantly false boasting were interesting. No, it’s not jealousy that keeps his eyes on Ed and Sebastian. The unpleasant twisting feeling in his gut when Sebastian leads Ed over to a cushioned bench in a shadowy corner of the ballroom is just concern for Ed’s safety. After all, what if Sebastian has a weapon? What if he’s seen through Ed’s facade and is seeking vengeance for his near-death experience?
Absently bidding his conversational partner a good evening, he drifts as nonchalantly in that direction as he can. Picking up yet another glass of the sparkling horse piss they’ve been tossing back all evening, he glances over at the secluded nook where the two men sit. He doesn’t have a good line of sight on them, but he sees Ed throw his head back in laughter, as Sebastian simpers unpleasantly across from him. The awful man leans forward conspiratorially, placing a no doubt clammy hand on Ed’s thigh.
Stede briefly imagines cutting the offending appendage off at the wrist, then pulls himself together. He’s almost convinced himself to ignore it and move on, when Ed turns, glancing in his direction. Before Stede can look away, or do anything to pretend he wasn’t neglecting their task to play the unflattering role of the jealous boyfriend (ridiculous), Ed locks eyes with him. He holds Stede’s gaze for a second, before his lips quirk up in a small smirk, and he turns back to his conversation.
He leans in closer, whispering something in the other man’s ear, and puts his own hand on top of Sebastian’s.
Stede’s grip tightens on his champagne flute so hard that he thinks he can feel the glass crack slightly. Placing it down with exaggerated care, he stalks over to the two men. Sebastian glances up at him, giving him a pointed look up and down, lip slightly curled.
“Oh, hello. Fitzgerald, was it? Your charming friend Geoff-with-a-G here was just telling me about the fabulous riches he’s earned running a horse-racing stable, and—”
That’s the last straw. When Stede had told Ed his backstory that morning, Ed had patiently told him that he was overthinking things, that he’d never need that many details. And now he had the nerve to steal Stede’s idea?
“I need to speak to Geoff for a moment,” Stede says levelly, staring back at Sebastian with all the venom he can muster. “I’m sure I’ll have him back to you shortly. Business matters, you understand. The horses, and all that.”
Sebastian heaves an exaggerated sigh. “Well, if you must. I understand the trials of running a wildly successful business myself, after all. Why, when I—”
Stede doesn’t wait for him to finish his sentence. He turns, and marches off down one of the hallways leading away from the main ballroom, his hand a vice grip on Ed’s arm. Once they’re far enough away that the noise of the party has dimmed slightly, he stops and faces Ed.
“Stede, love, honestly. I get that you don’t like seeing other men flirt with me, but we’ve got a fucking job to do, and if you can’t be professional about it—”
The sentence is cut off with a gasp as Stede shoves him back against the wall, hard enough to briefly knock the air from his lungs. Stede doesn’t give him time to get another word out before his mouth is on Ed’s, the kiss hot and hungry. He pulls Ed’s hips up against his, hands full of rich purple fabric, and slides his tongue between his lover’s lips when they open with a soft whine.
“Don’t play coy with me, Edward,” Stede growls when he breaks the kiss. “You knew exactly what you were doing, and it wasn’t just flirting back for information.”
“Don’t know what you—oh fuck—mean, love.” Ed barely manages to get the sentence out as Stede palms over the front of his extremely fitted trousers.
“You wanted to make me jealous.” It’s a statement, not a question. “You got it into your head that I already was, and needed to prove that you were right. You wanted to make sure that my eyes were on you all night, didn’t you?”
Ed moans quietly, head falling back against the wall as Stede presses closer, slotting his thigh between Ed’s legs.
“Well, congratulations, darling. I’d say you’ve gotten my attention quite efficiently.” He leans forward to leave a lingering, open-mouthed kiss just under Ed’s ear before sucking the his earlobe into his mouth. Ed’s knees sag, and Stede catches his lover’s weight on his thigh.
“What were you hoping I’d do next, exactly?” Stede murmurs in his ear. Ed’s only response is a soft whimper. Stede wraps Ed’s cravat around his hand, tugging on it sharply, and Ed’s eyes fly open with a gasp. “Edward, I asked you a question.”
“I didn’t—I hadn’t really thought that far ahead, honestly.”
Stede chuckles quietly. “What, the great Blackbeard didn’t have a plan?” He bites down on Ed’s neck, sucking a bruise into the sensitive flesh, and Ed lets out a choked moan before pressing his lips tightly together, eyes darting down the hallway towards the party.
Stede raises an eyebrow. “What’s the matter, my love? Worried someone will hear you and come looking?” He tangles a fist in Ed’s hair, yanking his head back to expose his throat. The sight of white lace against Ed’s brown skin is beautiful. If it hadn’t been hidden behind his beard the last time he’d worn this outfit, Stede might not have been able to resist kissing him that night on the deck. Making up for lost time, Stede leans forward to sink his teeth into the soft skin.
“We can’t—it’s dangerous—could get caught…” Ed struggles to get the words out, and Stede pulls back.
“Do you want me to stop?” Stede can hear the hoarseness in his own voice. Everything in him wants to devour Ed. To mark him, to claim him. He barely has to wait a moment before Ed shakes his head, eyes wide and dark. Stede feels something surge through him, feral and hot and triumphant as he captures Ed’s lips again in a bruising kiss.
Glancing around, he spots a small alcove further down the hall, bracketed by decorative velvet curtains. Not private, certainly, but slightly more shielded from the casual observer. He removes his thigh from between Ed’s legs, steadying the other man as he almost stumbles. No sooner has Ed caught his balance than Stede yanks him forward by the hair, dragging him down the hall before shoving him back up against the wall.
“Knew you wanted this,” Stede growls, reaching down to press down firmly on Ed’s cock through his pants. Ed nods frantically, one hand braced against the wall and the other wrapped bruisingly tight around Stede’s bicep.
Stede reaches for the fastenings at Ed’s waistband, then pauses as a thought occurs to him, a filthy mental image searing itself into his brain. Ed gives a high whine, canting his hips forward, seeking friction.
“Maybe I won’t take these off at all,” Stede whispers hotly, and Ed stares at him. “What if I make a mess of you just like this?”
“Fuck, Stede—”
“Get you off, ruin these beautiful trousers? Make you walk out of here like that for everyone to see?”
“Please…”
“Would you like that? Is this what you wanted, making me watch that horrible man touch you like that?”
“Do anyth—fuck—anything you want, love. Make a fucking mess of me. Show them I’m yours,” Ed manages to gasp out, hands scrabbling at Stede’s hips, trying to pull him closer.
Yours.
Something inside Stede breaks, like a dam bursting, scalding hot need flooding through him. Grabbing Ed roughly by the shoulder, he spins him around, shoving him face first against the wall in one swift movement.
“Damn right, you’re mine,” he hisses against Ed’s ear, and is satisfied to see the goosebumps prickling down his lover’s neck. Pinning Ed in place with his body, he reaches around and grips his cock again. He can feel how hard Ed is even through the layers of fabric, and the knowledge is dizzying.
“I can’t believe how hard you are, when I just fucked you a few hours ago. Always so ready for me, however I want you.”
Ed makes a desperate keening noise, rocking his hips forward into Stede’s hand.
“I’ll never get tired of seeing you like this, Edward. Do you know how much you make me want you? How wet I am for you?”
Looking at Ed’s face in profile, he admires the flush on his cheeks, the way his eyelids flutter with every stroke. At Stede’s words, his mouth opens slightly as he takes a deep, shuddering breath.
Stede chuckles quietly. “Are you thinking about tasting me? Licking my fingers clean after I touch myself?”
Ed makes a wrecked noise of affirmation. His lips part further, tongue resting softly on his lower lip, and Stede can’t help but think about how badly he wants to put that tongue to good use.
“If I could, I’d have you on your knees for me right here. But don’t worry, darling. When we get back to the ship I’m going to ride that beautiful, filthy mouth of yours until I come. How does that sound?”
“Please…” Ed’s voice breaks on the word, rising in volume as he continues. “Please… So close, don’t stop—”
Stede reaches around and claps a hand over his mouth. “Shhh now,” he murmurs, lips brushing against Ed’s ear. “Don’t want anyone to hear you. Do you think you can come quietly for me?”
He feels Ed’s hair brush against his face as the other man nods jerkily. Stede makes a quiet, satisfied sound, hand speeding up on Ed’s cock. He sees his lover’s knuckles go white against the wall, and feels the muscles in his jaw clench in an effort to stay quiet.
It’s not long before he feels Ed’s entire body shudder, mouth opening in a silent cry as his head falls back on Stede’s shoulder. After a few more strokes, Stede wraps his arm around Ed, holding him close, supporting his weight as he shivers through the aftershocks of his orgasm.
After a few moments, Ed pushes himself away from the wall and turns to face Stede, giving a shaky laugh as he almost falls over.
“Was that—” Stede begins, but Ed is already kissing him, hands gently cupping his face and mouth soft and pliant against Stede’s own.
“You’re a fucking lunatic, and I love you so fucking much,” Ed whispers when he finally breaks away.
“I love you too,” Stede murmurs back, heart swelling at the impossible depth of his adoration for the man. “Take me home?”
“Absolutely.” Ed looks down at himself, mouth twisting in a rueful smile, then turns back towards the party.
“Hey, wait, no.” Stede stops him with a hand on his arm. “Servant’s exit, this way.”
Ed looks a little relieved, turning to follow Stede away from the ballroom.
“I thought you wanted to walk me past all the fancy nobs so they’d see what a mess you made of me?” he asks with a grin, and Stede thinks he can hear a tinge of disappointment in his voice.
“Maybe I wanted to a little,” Stede admits with an answering smile, “but I didn’t think you’d actually do it. We still can if you want to, though…?”
Ed looks like he’s actually considering it for a second, but shakes his head. “Nah, I know come-stained pants are fucking cool in Paris, but maybe some other time.”
Stede barks out a surprised laugh, tugging Ed down the hall towards the back stairs. He chooses to ignore the wave of heat that rolls through his body at the thought, carefully filing it away for further consideration at a later time.
As they slip out the servant’s exit and make their way carefully through the gardens, Stede suddenly remembers the original purpose of their mission.
“I guess we’ll have to get the information some other way,” he says with a sigh. “I suppose I… derailed us, a little.”
Ed looks surprised. “Oh, that? Nah, mate. Got what we needed off Sebastian Bourbon-whatever-the-fuck. Slipped me a note with the details right before you, uh…” Even in the darkness, Stede can see him flush a little.
“Oh!” Stede is suddenly putting the pieces of the puzzle together. “You mean, when you put your hand on his hand…?”
Ed nods, then stops walking, turning to look at Stede. “Wait, did you think I was—”
Ed lets out a bark of laughter, and Stede can feel himself turning bright red.
“So you fucking dragged me away, did all of that… because you thought I was actually flirting back?”
“I suppose maybe, I—Ed, honestly, it’s not funny! Stop laughing!”
When Ed finally pulls himself together, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, he wraps his arms around Stede.
“Not jealous, huh?”
“...Perhaps just a little.”
Ed smirks. “Well, if that’s what you’re like when you’re jealous, maybe I should flirt with the aristocracy more often.”
Stede glares at him, but he can feel his lips curling into a smile despite his best efforts. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
“I’m just saying…”
“Edward—”
Ed pulls him close, kissing him so sweetly that Stede can’t even pretend to be mad anymore.
“Don’t worry, love. I’m all yours.”