Archive of Our Own

Ed hasn’t slept in days, and he’s gonna fucking lose it soon. If he ever sees that stupid fucking street hypnotist again, there’s gonna be some serious therapeutic maiming.

And yeah, maybe it’s not totally that fucker’s fault - Stede definitely had a role, and it might be just the tiniest bit Ed’s fault too.

But if they hadn’t run across the hypnosis show, Ed wouldn’t be in this fucking position, so as far as Ed’s concerned, the fucking hypnotist is the one to blame.

The worst part is, Ed doesn’t even fucking believe in hypnosis. He was fascinated by it as a kid. Being under someone else’s control, all the way down to your actual thoughts? Fuckin’ wild. Ed ate it up. But then he grew up and learned to tell fact from fiction, and he filed hypnosis under ‘pretty lies’ along with gods, magic, and the innate goodness of the human spirit.

He hasn’t so much as thought about it in years. Especially not when the crew spins tales late into the night and some guy comes out with a story about vampires or sirens or whatever. 

Creatures that can bend a man’s mind to their will? Make him so helpless the poor bastard wouldn’t even know anything was up?

Yawn. 

Besides, Blackbeard doesn’t fucking fantasize about being made into some kind of mindless thrall. Way off brand.

Point is, Ed doesn’t give a shit. So when he and Stede walked by a street mesmerist waving a paste gem in front of some girl’s blank, glassy eyes, Ed didn’t even spare them a glance.

Stede must have, though, because he snorted and wrinkled his nose like he does when he’s offended.

“What a hack,” he muttered, and obviously, Ed agreed. Whatever was going on there, he wasn’t even bothering to look at the stupid, swinging bauble, or at the subject’s slack face.

“Yup,” he said. “S’all obviously fucking fake.”

Stede frowned. “Well, no. This fraud wouldn’t know the real thing if it bit him, but mesmerism is perfectly real.” Obviously Ed had scoffed at that, and then Stede had gotten all huffy and bitchy about it.

Huffy and bitchy Stede is, for Ed’s fucking sins, one of the hottest Stedes there is.

“Yeah? Expert on the topic, are you?” Ed smirked, baiting Stede a little, because he’s a fucking glutton for punishment, apparently.

Stede tutted. “I am a bit, actually.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Ed rolled his eyes.

Stede paused, crossing his arms. “I’m quite serious! I’ll have you know that I have personally hypnotized people!” He sounded halfway between cross and proud.

Ed’s brain kind of shorted out. Only for a second, if that. He’s pretty sure he didn’t stand there staring at Stede like a fucking moron. Not for long enough that anyone would have noticed, anyway. And even if he had, he got it together again fast, because he’s fucking Blackbeard, and Blackbeard doesn’t get thrown by stupid shit like this. That would be fucking amateur hour.

No, Ed was super cool about the whole thing. He just snorted dismissively, shrugged, and turned on his heel, leaving Stede behind him, probably staring stupidly. He didn’t hear Stede calling after him, like “Oh, Ed, don’t leave me here all by myself,” or “Ed, please come back, I’m sorry for being a liar and also too pretty for my own good.” 

But that’s probably just ‘cause Ed was already too far away to hear him.

He didn’t see Stede again until that night on the ship, and by then, Ed was already a good ways into the brandy. And Stede didn’t seem apologetic at all, actually, more pissy and imperious. Which was unfair because that flavor of Stede is possibly the only thing sexier than huffy, bitchy Stede. 

“Well?” Stede demanded. “Do you want to tell me what that was all about?” 

Ed played it cool, all what was what all about, mate? But Stede wasn’t letting it go. Man’s a stubborn fucker when he wants to be, even if it’s usually about the wrong things.

Finally Ed had just rolled his eyes. “Don’t appreciate being lied to, mate.”

“Lied to?” Stede protested, voice going shrill. “About - about the hypnosis? That’s what you’re upset about?”

Ed shrugs, super smooth, because fuck if he cares. “Yep. S’not fucking real, mate. M’not stupid.”

Stede put his fists on his hips, scowling. Adorably. Fuck.

“Why would I lie? I don’t understand why you’re being so touchy about this, Ed.”

Ed glared. “M’not touchy. Fuck if I care. But hey, if hypnosis is so fucking real, prove it. Go ahead and hypnotize me.” He spread his arms, tilted his chin up, come at me, bro, because Blackbeard doesn’t back down from fucking anything.

Stede went kind of bug eyed and spluttery. “Well - I - I don’t think -”

Ed dropped his arms, snorting. “Yep. Knew it.”

If he felt the tiniest bit disappointed, it was only because he didn’t like the idea of Stede lying to him.

“Well I can’t do it now while you’re all -” Stede waved his arms. “Riled up!”

“Not fucking riled up,” Ed muttered into his brandy, scowling. “Whatever. I see how it is. Giving up easy, hey?”

Stede crossed his arms and glared. “No! I’d simply have to do it another time. When you weren’t expecting it.”

Ed stared for a second before laughing his fucking head off.

You know what? Okay. Game on.

—

Except it’s been almost a week now, and Ed hasn’t slept in fucking days, because he’s not about to let his guard down.

Every time he and Stede are in the same room, he’s keeping an eye out for hypnotic shit. Almost everything is suspect - any of Stede’s one million little shiny baubles or buttons, any flickering flame or shimmering water. So Ed can’t relax around Stede. Or in the cabin. Or on the deck. 

So, basically ever.

And sure, Ed’s fine without a ton of sleep. He’s dealt with worse, but that’s usually action, and this is just waiting. Ed’s not the greatest at waiting. He doesn’t even dare get drunk or smoke his pipe, not wanting to lower his defenses.

Not that he believes in the whole thing, obviously, but that’s no reason to give Stede an easy opening to pull some kind of look-deep-into-my-eyes or you’re-feeling-very-sleepy bullshit.

Even though Ed is indeed feeling very fucking sleepy.

He starts grabbing catnaps in out of the way places, in the ball room or in the foc’s’le hammocks during the day when it’s empty. And that would be fine, would be plenty of sleep, except for the fucking dreams.

He doesn’t know why he’s dreaming of Stede. 

Okay, fine. That’s not true; between all the flirting and the kissing - a frustratingly small amount of kissing, actually - it’s not shocking for Stede to show up in his dreams.

What Ed doesn’t get is why he’s dreaming of Stede like this.  

Sometimes Stede comes up behind him, silent and sudden, and crowds him against the rail so that Ed can’t get away. Or else he appears out of the dark while Ed is half asleep on the chaise, pinning him down with his body. Or they’re kissing and then Stede is shoving Ed to his knees and - fucking whatever, point is: dream-Stede is really getting up in his space.

And then Stede whispers in his ear, all low and gravelly and confident. “It’s no use fighting it, you know. You will surrender to me. The longer you resist, the more I’ll enjoy watching you drop for me.”

Or some bullshit like that. Ed barely remembers.

Anyway, the point is, Ed can barely close his eyes without dream-Stede sexily menacing him about hypnosis and then Ed’s awake again, breathing hard and looking around to see if Stede is lurking in the corners.

A few times, the dreams have ended with an entranced Ed on his knees, and Stede smirking over him. “Open up,” he’ll murmur, unbuttoning his breeches, and -

To be clear, Ed doesn’t - do that. Not even with Jack, no matter how persuasive Jack was, or how tempted Ed might’ve been. It’s just not fucking done.

Anyway, it makes for a fucking awkward boner, but it’s not like Ed’s in charge of the dreams, you know? He just fucking lives here.

And sure, sometimes he jerks off afterward, but a man deserves some relief. Especially a man who isn’t safe from his stupidly pretty definitely-not-really-a-hypnotist co-captain even in his sleep. Doesn’t mean he feels any kind of way about the whole thing.

After about a week of this, Ed’s barely managing to get through the day. His eyes are gritty and he’s yawning about every thirty seconds. Pretty soon he’s gonna have to admit to himself that something’s gotta give.

But in the end, Stede gets there first. 

“All right, Edward, this foolishness has gone on quite long enough! I’m putting a stop to it!” They’re in the cabin together, and Stede stands up abruptly, folding his arms and giving Ed a look. “You need to sleep!”

Ed sneers. “Pffft, yep, bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Stede stomps his foot. “Yes! I would! That’s what I’ve just said!”

Unfazed, Ed rolls his eyes and takes a casual pose. Staggers a little. 

Balance is a bit fucked after several days without sleep, apparently. Whatever. 

“You think I’m just going to give up? Let my guard down? No chance, mate.”

Stede scrubs a hand over his face. “Fine! You win! Clearly I can’t hypnotize you.” He sags a bit. “Besides, I was… I was exaggerating a bit, all right? It’s just a silly parlor trick.” He holds up his hands, placating. “But I’m worried about you, Ed.” He twists his hands together. Adorably. 

Ugh. Man’s a fucking menace.

“No need to fret,” Ed dismisses. “M’fuckin’ Blackbeard.”

Stede scrunches his nose. “You’re dead on your feet, is what you are. I give up, all right? Just… get some sleep, will you?” He sighs. “I can’t help but feel that this is all my fault. Can I… oh, I don’t know, give you a massage, maybe? To help you relax? To make it up to you?”

“Massage, huh?” He pretends to consider it. “Suppose it could help me sleep.”

So he lets himself be guided onto the chaise with Stede standing behind him, and immediately, Ed sees the trap.

“Oh, look, a pretty shiny fire,” he says. “Nope. Gonna have to try harder’n that, mate.”

He stands up, wobbles, and immediately collapses back onto the chaise. Balance might be more than a bit fucked.

Maybe Stede’s onto something about getting some sleep.

“Edward!” Stede snaps. “Stop it! I’m not - ugh! Just close your eyes, if you’re so worried.”

“Fine. But if I fall asleep before you’ve even started, that’s on you.”

“Yes, fine, very good,” Stede grumbles. “That is actually the point, Edward.”

Ed is pretty determined to stay awake, actually, because having Stede’s actual hands on him is too rare a treat to sleep through. But he does close his eyes, which feels fucking great, because he’s completely fucking knackered.

Stede starts at his shoulders, and goddamn, his muscles are like rocks, painfully tight under Stede’s fingers.

Stede notices too. “Edward, you’re so tense! I need you to relax, all right? Try this: take a deep breath, hold it, and then let it all out, hmm?” He demonstrates loudly behind Ed, sighing his breath out dramatically and letting his hands flop onto Ed’s chest, lax.

Ed’s not super sure about the whole thing, but Stede’s hands are practically on his tits, so he plays along. 

Annoyingly, it works. After a couple breaths, Ed is already feeling looser. Stede’s fingers are firm and soothing on his shoulders, and by the fifth or sixth breath, he’s slumped against the couch and groaning vaguely as Stede digs into his muscles.

“Perfect,” Stede says, low and soft, and Ed’s chest fills with a warm glow. “Just like that.”

Ed keeps breathing as Stede works, starting to drift a little. He’s fighting a losing battle against sleep, his head sagging down almost to his chest a few times, until he catches himself and snaps upright.

“That doesn’t look very relaxing,” Stede tuts. His voice is smooth as velvet. “Lean your head back against the chaise, hmm? Let me do the work for a while.”

Ed’s gotta admit, that sounds pretty fucking nice. So when Stede cups his jaw and tugs his head onto the cushion behind him, Ed allows it. He groans softly as Stede works gentle fingers along the muscles of his jaw.

Stede’s hands stroke back down, starting back in on his shoulders, and Ed lets out another sighing breath, sinking further into the cushions.

“Lovely, Edward,” Stede purrs, right in his fucking ear, and Ed shivers, heat trickling down his spine. “Keep going, just like that.”

So Ed keeps up the deep breathing, melting into the fucking couch.

He’s half-asleep, half-hard, and his brain is most of the way checked out. He feels floaty and vaguely tingly all over, and he’d be fucking lying if he said he didn’t like it.

“Nothing you need to do,” Stede murmurs. “Nothing to worry about. All you need to do is relax for me, and I’ll take care of everything.”

Ed sinks further into the cushions, lips curling up in a smile.

Stede’s still talking, Ed realizes muzzily. “...letting someone else do the worrying for a change. You’re doing so well, just relaxing. Sinking into the couch. Sinking…down.” He stretches the last word like taffy, running his hands down Ed’s arms.

He sinks down, just like Stede told him to, because he’s letting Stede take charge right now.

It feels fucking great.

Then Ed’s exhausted fucking brain finally kicks into gear, and what the fuck.

Ed blinks hard, his eyelids heavy, and tries to sit up.

“Oi, mate,” he croaks. His tongue feels slow, clumsy. “You’re - y’said you wouldn’t -”

“Shhh, Edward,” Stede soothes. “I’m just helping you relax, like we talked about. You’re relaxed, don’t you? You feel good?”

Ed blinks again, heavy-lidded, and tries to think about that. 

He does feel fucking good.

Stede hums like he’s agreeing, and he tugs Edward’s shoulders back down.

Ed frowns, but he doesn’t fight it.

“No funny business,” he insists groggily. 

“Of course. You won, remember? You can relax.” His hands stroke down Ed’s arms again. “Just let go. Let me take care of you for a change.” His voice sounds dreamy. His hands stroke again, pulling Ed into the couch. “That’s right. Down, down, down.”

God, it really does feel fucking fantastic. Stede’s hands are warm on his skin, his voice is soft and soothing in his ear, and Ed feels light enough to fucking float away. 

He sighs out a breath, tension leaking back out of him, and sinks back into the couch. 

“Lovely,” Stede purrs. “Just like that.”

Ed manages to resist the urge to close his eyes, barely. They hover half-open, dipping dangerously with each blink.

“If you’re not quite ready to sleep, you can always look at the fire, Edward,” Stede suggests gently. “I always find it relaxing to watch the fire.”

Ed’s eyes draw sluggishly up to gaze into the fireplace. 

The flames are awfully nice to look at.

“There. That’s a good boy,” Stede murmurs in his ear, and that feels fucking nice too.

–

In retrospect, Stede probably should have thought it through before hypnotizing Ed.

He’d thought about it, of course, what with Ed’s ridiculous challenge and then the days he’d spent avoiding Stede. Thinking about it was practically all Stede had done, after that. He wouldn’t have set out to hypnotize Ed, not until he had that challenge dangling in front of him. But once Ed had dared him…well. Stede wasn’t going to let something like that go unanswered. 

But he’d been focusing on getting Ed hypnotized, and hadn’t really thought ahead to what to do once he’d achieved that goal. 

Now, with Ed slumped onto the chaise in front of him, Stede might be panicking. Just a little.

“What on earth got you so worked up about hypnosis?” Stede mutters.

He’s talking to himself, but Ed answers anyway.

“Want’d it,” Ed slurs absently, not stirring from where he’s splayed out on the soft seat.

Stede freezes, gaze snapping back to Edward. What? If he wanted to be hypnotized, why did he spend the entire week hiding?

Well. That’s the plan sorted: he’s going to get to the bottom of this.

“Edward,” he says carefully, and brings his hands back to their slow, stroking rhythm. “I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’ll find it easy to answer me honestly, all right? But whatever I ask, there’s no need to wake up. You can just stay like this, nice and relaxed, while we have a little chat. Nod if you understand.”

Ed’s head gives a little bob, like he’s too tired to nod properly. Stede has to bite his lip against a surprising wash of heat - he never thought he’d see Ed like this, so placid and vulnerable, and god - he doesn’t know why, but he can’t look away.

“Very good,” he says, managing a calm, even voice. “Why did you want me to hypnotize you, Ed?”

“Always been…curious,” Ed says. There’s a complicated sort of waver in his voice on that last word.

Stede’s brow furrows. “Then why spend all that time avoiding me?”

Ed gives a lazy, sleepy shrug. “Shoudn’t want it. S’dangerous.”

Fascinating.

“What’s dangerous about it, Edward?” Stede keeps his voice gentle, his hands moving in a soothing rhythm.

“S’posed to be tough. S’posed to be in charge,” Ed murmurs.

“But you do? Want it?”

Ed nods.

“What appeals to you about it?”

“Letting go,” Edward says, pausing. “Bein’ controlled. Mindless…” He draws out the last word, as though hesitant, or perhaps savoring it. 

“You know that hypnosis doesn’t have to mean being mindless?” Stede asks, experimentally.

Ed shivers under his hands.

“Wan’ it to,” he murmurs. “S’fuckin’…hot.” His voice is hesitant and gravelly, and it sends a sharp bolt of heat along Stede’s spine. He has to take a minute to let his breathing even out.

“Edward,” he says, carefully. “Do you want that from…me?” He winces as his voice squeaks on the last word, but Ed doesn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah,” he breathes.

Oh.

Well then.

–

When Ed comes back up, the first thing he does is whip his head around to glare at Stede.

“Oi! Sneaky motherfucker!”

Stede just fucking smirks at him, smug bastard.

Ed can’t find it in himself to be properly angry, but he’s nervous, wondering what the fuck he said while he was under, what Stede thinks he knows.

His mind is racing with all the things that could have happened, the things Stede could have made him do. Bark like a dog. Strip off all his clothes. Kneel at his feet, opening his mouth to -

Ed shudders, directing his mind firmly away from that fucking line of thought.

Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because he’s pretty fucking sure that didn’t happen. His memories of everything are a bit fuzzy, but he’s pretty sure he didn’t leave the couch.

Which is good, because he’s not interested. In that sort of thing.

So. Now he’s just gotta…be cool.

Easy.

“Well, I guess you win after all.” He shrugs, stretching ostentatiously. “So! What’s next?”

Stede arches an eyebrow. “Don’t you want to know what happened?”

Ed puts his arms out to the sides, making a show of not caring. “How much could there be?” 

He’s pretty sure he never got up off the couch, so it couldn’t be too wild. He’s like ninety-five percent about it.

“You’re not curious? We had a rather interesting chat!”

Ed definitely doesn’t flinch or react in any way. Cause he’s being super fucking cool about this. 

“Eh, talk’s cheap, mate.” He’s burningly, desperately curious, but he’s not about to let on. He busies himself getting his boots on - time to make a quick exit before this gets out of fucking hand.

“You mentioned that you’d been wanting me to hypnotize you.”

Ed grunts, shrugging, even as his heart kicks into a higher gear. “Doesn’t sound like me.” 

Stede stands up, crossing his arms. “You said that you wanted me to control you. Make you mindless.” 

Ed feels himself fucking shudder at that, momentarily thrown off balance. Fuck. Be cool, Ed, fucking hell.

He shrugs. Because he’s being cool.

“People say weird shit when they’re, y’know. Drunk, or uh, entranced. Or whatever. Doesn’t mean I meant it.” He pauses. “If I even did say that.”

“Really.” There’s steel in Stede’s voice, and he steps forward, getting in Ed’s space. “Are you telling me that you don’t want me to hypnotize you again?” His mouth curls into a smirk. “I could, you know. Make you all pliant. Mindless.” 

A spike of heat shoots through him, and Ed chokes back a noise before it has a chance to give him away. He needs to pull himself the fuck together.

“M’fuckin’ Blackbeard, mate. Men kneel for me, not the other way round.”

Stede raises an eyebrow. “Hmm,” he says, stepping even further forward, towering over Ed where he’s sitting on the chaise. His eyes rake up and down Ed’s body. “Are you sure? You don’t want to be the one on your knees?”

Ed scoffs, but he’s remembering those dreams now, his cock stirring in response. Fuck.

“You’d be a pretty sight, I think. Kneeling, mindless and submissive…”

Ed can picture it perfectly: on his knees, head inclined to gaze up at Stede. His eyes would be glassy, vacant. Stede would put a hand in his hair, perhaps, murmuring how well Ed’s doing. And Ed would be floating in that dizzy, hazy place, listening and obeying without having to think about anything at all -

“...Ed?”

Ed forces himself back into the moment with a shudder. How long has he been…distracted? 

“Huh?”

Stede smirks. “I said, would you like that, Ed?”

“What? Nah. Nope.” His voice sounds breathy, a fucking plea instead of a challenge. Fuck.

“A shame. I think I’d rather like seeing you that way, relaxed and mindless.” Stede’s tone is light, but his gaze is heated and predatory.

Ed can’t suppress a whimper, and he’s swaying where he sits, boots forgotten. His brain feels hazy, his thoughts slipping away. His body thrums with heat.

“You’re - doin’ something,” he protests feebly, shivering with heat. “Fuck off.”

Stede grins, bringing two fingers to rest under Ed’s chin. “No, I don’t think I want to do that. And I don’t think you want that either, darling,” he says easily, his voice a taunting sing-song. “I think you want to be mindless.”

Ed is hit with a dizzying wave of arousal this time, and he moans out loud. His muscles go lax, and he slumps back onto the chaise. “You’re - I -” Why does he feel so strange? “Why can’t I -”

“Mindless and relaxed now,” Stede croons, and Ed whimpers at another surge of lust. His cock is achingly fucking hard, and it’s difficult to focus on anything else. He sinks down into the cushions, the shifting of his hips in the leather enough to send waves of hot, sweet pleasure cascading through him. He groans with it, just as mindless as Stede is insisting.

That thought snags what’s left of his attention, and he frowns slowly. It’s so fucking hard to think.

Something isn’t right.

“You - that word… are you -”

“Which word? Mindless?”

“Ohhhhh, fuck,” Ed’s thoughts scatter again as his cock throbs, aching and all-consuming. He rolls his hips, pleasure flooding his fevered mind. He moans softly. 

He was - wasn’t he worried about… something? He can’t seem to remember, and that’s… that’s weird. Right? 

“Stede…” Focusing is all but impossible. He tries anyway. “I - I think…”

“No thinking, now. That’s my job. I want you mindless.”

Lust, sticky sweet and thick as honey, floods Ed’s mind. He ghosts his hand against the bulge of his cock and is lost to the dizzying rush of pleasure.

“Mindless…” he murmurs, hearing the whimper in his own voice.

Stede gives a low chuckle. “That’s right. Just sink for me. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Ed rolls his hips.

It does feel good.

Stede gives a cheeky little smirk.

“Now, Edward, be honest. Do you really want me to stop?”

“No,” Ed breathes, feeling like he’s floating, feeling like he’s flying - but if either of those things happened mostly in your cock. 

He never wants it to stop.

“Then why were you fighting this so hard, darling?”

Ed’s brow furrows. Thinking is so hard, and besides, he feels so good. Why would he have ever resisted this? He can’t remember.

Stede chuckles softly.

“Mmm, my mistake. Tell you what: you’ll find it easy to answer me honestly, without even thinking about it. You’ll tell me what I want to know, but you’ll stay nice and mindless for me.”

Ed nods, smiling. That sounds perfect. Stede has the best ideas. 

“So: why were you fighting this?”

“S’not safe.” The words roll off Ed’s tongue without any effort on his part, like watching the clouds go by.

“Are…are you worried I’ll do something you won’t like?”

Ed shakes his head. “Nah. Trust you. S’just not…Blackbeardy.”

“Mmm. And are you worried about that now?”

“Nah.” Not worried about anything. He’s just fucking…drifting. 

“How do you feel right now?”

Ed smiles lazily. “Amazing . Relaxed.” He moans, shifting in place. “T-turned… turned on…” There’s something like worry, at that, but it’s vague and distant, and he can’t think why he should be worried.

It’s Stede’s job to do the worrying, right now, he remembers muzzily. He just needs to be relaxed and mindless.

He whimpers softly at the thought, cock throbbing against his palm, and he presses into it with a groan, worry evaporating.

“Hands off, Edward. Just relax.” Stede’s voice seems a bit higher, a little strangled, for some reason. Still, Ed relaxes, hands dropping obediently to his sides.

“And what do you want, right now?”

“Want…you,” he hears himself murmur, and then he’s half-worried again, for some reason, but Stede just hums encouragingly.

“And what is it you want from me, darling?”

Ed groans. He wants everything. He feels like he’s made of wanting, stripped down to nothing but his nerves and skin and lust.

“Fuck, Stede. Anything.” His voice is breathy, dreamy. “Make me yours?”

“Oh,” Stede says, sounding choked. “I - very well. I - yes.” He pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice is steady, tinged with threat and praise simultaneously. “Yes, I can work with that. Now listen closely.”

–

Ed wakes up the next morning feeling well rested, and shortly afterwards, deeply fucking annoyed.

He remembers everything, he’s pretty sure. Even the stupid trigger word - he avoids it, even in his own mind. Just in fucking case. He remembers the conversation he had with Stede while he was under, the humiliating shit he admitted to wanting.

And he remembers Stede giving him some simple instructions and then…helping him get ready for bed, telling him to drift off to sleep. 

What the fuck?

He basically begged Stede to use him as some kind of fucking… brainless sex puppet, and then fucking - nothing?

Those last instructions sit in Ed’s memory, taunting:

You’re going to remember everything about your trance when you wake, Edward. How you felt, everything we talked about, everything you wanted. 

In fact, you aren’t going to be able to stop thinking about it. You’re going to find it more and more difficult to be dishonest with yourself. When you’re ready to admit what you want, all you have to do is ask.

All right? Good. Now: sleep.

And you know what? Nope. Fuck that. Ed’s not gonna be manipulated that easily.

Well, not twice, anyway. He’s gonna go out on deck and everything is gonna be perfectly fucking normal from here on out, because he’s not fucking interested in - 

Because he doesn’t want -

Because it just fucking is, that’s all.

Ed shifts in his bed and groans as his morning wood makes itself known, extra fucking demanding after - after all that shit last night. Stede’s doing, no fucking doubt.

Right. Things are gonna go back to normal in ten fucking minutes.

Ed wraps a hand around himself and shudders.

Maybe five minutes.

–

Ed lasts a week before finally talking to Stede.

At first he tries to just fucking pretend it never happened. Ed’s usually aces at that kinda shit, but it doesn’t work. It’s like there’s an itch he can only scratch by allowing the memories to replay in his head instead of shoving them in a box. 

Fucking - fine. If he can’t ignore it, he’ll be angry. That’s his fucking wheelhouse, and besides, he’s got every right.

Ed wraps anger around himself like armor, and it’s easy.

Except for that stupid itchy feeling in the back of his brain. It’s small at first, growing with time, until it coalesces into words:

Liar.

Liar.

LIAR.

Which is why, well after midnight, Ed snarls into his pillow and admits that, fucking fine, he’s not actually pissed about what happened.

Whatever. He tries other emotions on for size: betrayal, disgust. Disinterest. 

He can just about settle into any of those before that stupid itch comes back, and Ed discards each theory in turn.

So fine. Maybe he doesn’t actually mind what happened.

Maybe he liked it.

Maybe he’s disappointed that Stede didn’t take it further. 

The itch in his brain finally fades at this thought, allowing Ed to get some fucking sleep.

He dreams of Stede, and wakes to a whispered reminder: all you have to do is ask.

Meanwhile Stede’s been making himself scarce for days, leaving any room Ed’s in, squeaking out bullshit excuses, and Ed can’t help but think that it was all too much, too weird. And that’s hardly his fault, he didn’t fucking ask Stede to hypnotize him.

(Fuck. Stede fucking hypnotized him. Holy shit.)

But hell, who knows how the man’s mind works. He’s a fearless lunatic right up until he freaks all the way out. So fuck knows what’s going on with him right now.

And Ed’s not even sure what he wants. Mostly, he wants Stede to stop avoiding him. He wants things to go back to normal. 

He wants to forget all about this hypnosis bullshit.

Liar.

Fucking - fine.

Maybe he wants to ask Stede to -

Make me yours.

He wants to be -

On his knees.

He wants to be fucking honest with Stede, apparently.

That, he actually is a bit pissed off about.

–

“Mate, can we talk, or are you gonna run away again?”

Stede looks up from his book. For a solid few seconds, he looks like he’s gonna do exactly fucking that, eyes darting back and forth, but then he takes a deep breath and seems to settle. 

“No, of course! Yes! We can talk. Love a good talk!” Stede closes the book and twists his hands together. “So, er, what can I do for you, Ed?”

Ed pauses, suddenly realizing he hasn’t actually thought about what the fuck to say, so when he opens his mouth, he’s as surprised as anyone about what falls out.

“Why’d you stop?”

Stede stares at him. “Why - what?”

“You had me - I was -“ Ed gestures vaguely, glaring at Stede. “And you fucking stopped!”

Stede gawps for a moment before recovering. “I - well, yes!” He snaps, crossing his arms. “You - it was clear you had… mixed feelings! I was hardly about to take advantage!”

This fucking guy. Someone oughtta dissect his brain. 

Ed scoffs. “Hah, sure. And making me horny about it wasn’t taking advantage?”

Stede’s eyes widen, and then he laughs, sounding slightly hysterical. “You know, I actually didn’t?”

“You - what?”

“I instructed you to fall gradually back into trance, each time I said the word mindless.” 

Ed doesn’t fucking shudder. For the record.

“I told you that your thoughts would drain from your head with each repetition.” Stede’s voice has taken on that enchanting cadence, and Ed realizes he’s staring, absolutely fucking riveted. Fuck. He rips his gaze away. 

“But that’s it! No mention of arousal.” Stede huffs. “That bit was all you, I’m afraid.”

Ed stares at him, slack-jawed. “Oh,” he manages. 

Right. Fuck. Okay; fine. 

“So you’ve been fuckin’ weird all week because…”

Stede laughs again, a sharp, surprised bark. “Ed, you - you must be - right. You aren’t. All right.” Stede sucks in a breath. “I was - well, I suppose I was worried that I had taken advantage.”

“Oh.” Ed blinks. “Right. Okay. Um. So you’re not, um. Freaked out.” His voice drops to a mumble, addressing his feet as much as Stede.

“Freaked - no. No.” Stede takes another heavy breath, and when he continues, his voice is gentle. “I was concerned that I’d… pushed too much, perhaps. I wanted to give you space.”

That’s actually really fucking sweet, in a totally bananas, Stede-logic sorta way.

Ed’s eyes dart back up. “Well. No need,” he manages. “Don’t want space.” It comes out soft and vulnerable and he winces internally.

Stede’s eyes are glinting, but cautious. “And what do you want, Ed?”

“I want -” He swallows, throat suddenly dry. “You don’t have to stop. Next time.”

Stede raises an eyebrow, locking eyes with Ed. “Next time?” Ed manages, somehow, to nod. “Are you going to cooperate, then?”

Ed doesn’t have a lot of experience with - this. With being - scared, being vulnerable. In the end, he goes with bravado. 

“Nope. Gonna have to earn it.”

Stede’s other eyebrow ratchets up to join the first. 

“I see,” he muses. “You want to fight.”

Ed shrugs.

“You want to lose.”

Stede’s gaze is intent, heavy with challenge. Ed’s breath catches in his throat as Stede steps into his space.

“I do enjoy winning,” he murmurs, “especially with such a lovely prize.” He reaches up to tuck Ed’s hair behind his ear, his fingers grazing Ed’s skin with slow purpose.

Ed scoffs weakly, dropping his eyes. He’s off-balance at how suddenly Stede has taken control of the situation. Every time he thinks he’s got the man figured out, Stede throws him for another loop. 

Stede catches his jaw with gentle fingers, forcing his face back up. “Don’t look away from me, Edward.” His tone is stern, commanding.

A helpless noise bubbles out of Ed’s throat as his eyes lock with Stede’s. 

“That’s right,” Stede says softly. “Eyes on me. You can fight it all you like, but you know that I’m going to win, don’t you?”

Stede’s gaze is intent. Hungry. Ed couldn’t look away if he wanted to. 

“Don’t you, Edward?” 

“N-no,” Ed manages, but there’s no defiance in it.

Stede smiles serenely. Then, very deliberately, he takes a long, deep breath, and lets it out on a sigh.

He takes another deep breath, his eyes fluttering half-closed on the exhale. Pauses. Does it again.

Turns out Ed can’t quite keep himself from breathing in time with it.

“Stede -”

Stede’s hand tightens on his chin. “Hush. No talking, now.”

Ed’s hyper-aware of his body, every blink, every breath. He’s doing his best to hold Stede’s gaze because fuck, Stede gave him a fucking order. But when he breathes out and Stede’s eyes flutter half-closed on the exhale, Ed’s automatically do the same.

He’s suddenly nervous. Is he doing the right thing? Does Stede want him to keep his eyes open or not?

He’s too off-balance to notice how easily he’s slipped into obedience.

And then Stede’s hands are on his shoulders, steering him backwards.

His body moves with it easily, letting Stede take control. “Huh?” Ed manages, disoriented.

“Hush,” Stede murmurs. The back of Ed’s knees hit the chaise. Stede’s strong hands guide him onto the seat. “Relax,” Stede says, a low, drawn out sound, and his hands are stroking down Ed’s shoulders, pushing him into the softness of the cushions. 

Ed can’t do a goddamn thing but fall into it, and fuck if that doesn’t send a heady wash of arousal down his spine to settle in his hips.

He’s almost dizzy from it all, and now Stede is breathing long and slow and deliberate, moving his hands in time as Ed struggles to watch him through drooping eyes.

“That’s right,” Stede purrs. “Relax. Sinking down into the cushions.”

Stede’s hands are at Ed’s buckles and buttons, and then his leather jacket is open and Stede’s hands are running down his chest, pulling a lazy groan from him.

“Just sink for me, darling. There we go.” Stede’s hands continue stroking, down, down, down. All Ed can focus on is how good it all feels, how much better it would be if Stede’s hands were on his skin. Ed’s eyes flutter helplessly shut as he moans under Stede’s fingers.

Stede huffs. “Your eyes don’t want to stay open, hmm?”

Ed manages to force his eyelids back up to see Stede is smirking down at him.

“That’s all right,” he says indulgently. “Next time you close your eyes, they’ll stay closed for me, just as relaxed as the rest of you.”

Ed sighs - definitely doesn’t whimper - as he lets his eyes fall shut on the next exhale, reassured that he’s doing the right thing.

Letting Stede take charge.

Ed sighs out another melting breath, and it feels like coming home.

He feels the cushion shift under him, and then a warm weight on his thighs. It’s a long moment before he realizes Stede has climbed into his fucking lap, close enough that their breath mingles with each exhale.

Stede’s fingers brush against Ed’s mouth, pressing gently, and Ed opens without so much as thinking about it. Stede’s fingers slip between his lips, and Ed lets out a groan, loud and wanton in the quiet of the cabin.

“There you go,” Stede croons. “So obedient, letting me use that pretty mouth.”

Fucking hell, that shouldn’t be so goddamned hot, but Ed fucking whimpers. Around Stede’s fingers. Which are in his mouth.

Holy fucking shit.

“Does that feel good, darling?”

Ed nods, pliant and dazed.

“And here I thought you were going to put up a fight,” Stede says lightly.

For a moment, Ed can’t even process the words. Everything feels perfect just the way it is. Better than perfect. Why would he fight this?

“No, hmm?”

Ed frowns, trying to process the question. Fight? He’s - 

What’s he doing?

He blinks, shakes his head, and -

Bloody fucking hell, Stede’s done it again.

He should be fighting. He’d meant to. But Stede had caught him off guard, gotten him half-entranced without a trace of resistance from Ed.

Ed struggles for purchase on his own mind. He feels hazy, muzzy, like he’s had too much to drink - and the truth is, it feels good. Maybe he could just…

No. Fuck. Ed wrenches himself towards alertness, and it’s like wading through molasses.

He opens his mouth to say - fuck, he doesn’t know what - before realizing that Stede’s fingers are still in his fucking mouth.  

That’s the exact moment that Stede slides a third finger between Ed’s lips, thrusting lazily against his tongue. Ed just stares at Stede, groaning helplessly around his fingers. Where the fuck did this cocky, sexy, confident Stede come from?

Ed shakes himself mentally. He needs to fight. Get out from under Stede. Get Stede’s fucking fingers out of his mouth.

Somehow, he marshals his strength, bringing his arms up, and pushes Stede away. He ignores the pang of regret in his chest.

Stede chuckles. “Oh, you are going to fight me. Very well, let’s have it.” 

Ed turns his head, trying to dislodge those terrible, distracting, entrancing fingers from between his lips.

It’s not his best effort, but it’s a start, and Stede is forced to move his hand, gripping the back of the chaise and tightening his thighs around Ed’s to stay upright. 

Ed definitely doesn’t miss the feel of Stede finger-fucking his face, because that would be absurd.

“There you go! You’re doing a wonderful job, Ed!” Stede says, breath coming faster, his face pressed up close to Ed’s as they wrestle in slow motion.

Ed grunts, trying to get leverage, but Stede’s got the literal upper hand, limbs caging him on all sides.

“You’re trying so hard to fight me, aren’t you? Doing so well,” Stede’s voice is sweet, and his arms are surprisingly fucking strong, holding Ed in place despite his struggles. “Doing exactly as you’re told, aren’t you, darling?”

Ed’s brow furrows as he struggles. No, that’s not - he’s fighting, not -

“Obeying me so beautifully,” Stede whispers.

A plaintive noise makes its way from Ed’s lips.

Stede’s chest and arms are frustratingly solid, holding Ed fast. Not to mention his thighs, those fucking thighs. Ed pushes and writhes, but he can’t get any goddamn purchase. His muscles are starting to burn with it.

Stede smiles beatifically.

“It’s hard, isn’t it, Ed? Fighting?”

“Fuck off,” Ed manages, shoving at Stede’s arms, trying to loosen his hold on the chaise, and for a second, he thinks it’s going to work.

But then Stede’s hands clamp around his wrists instead, and Ed’s even more trapped than before. 

Ed thrashes against Stede’s hold as best he can, but it’s clear that he’s not going anywhere, even as his muscles burn with effort.

“Aren’t you tired?” Stede’s voice is sweet and smooth as Ed’s struggles start to weaken. “Wouldn’t it be nice to just…stop?”

Ed groans.

“Would you like to stop fighting me, darling?”

“Fucking hell, Stede.” It comes out plaintive. Vulnerable. Ed writhes ineffectually against Stede’s limbs.

“Already slowing down,” Stede murmurs. “So tired. Ready to rest, darling?”

“No,” Ed growls, summoning all his energy to push against Stede’s hold. 

Stede’s eyes widen, dancing and bright. “Oh, really?” His voice is fucking hungry. “Show me, then.”

Ed growls and surges forward, pushing with all his might. His breathing is hard and harsh in the quiet cabin.

There’s a second where Stede’s grip falters, and for just an instant, Ed thinks he might be able to break out of his hold.

But then he shifts, finding a better angle, and it’s over. They hold in perfect balance for a moment before Ed is forced back against the chaise, slow but inexorable. 

Stede grins as he pushes Ed back down. “There you go,” he whispers brightly. “You’re doing beautifully. Nearly done, now.” 

Stede smiles, wrestling Ed’s arms down inch by inch. All Ed can do is slow the descent, lightheaded with the effort of the struggle.

“Almost ready to rest, now,” Stede purrs. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

Ed tries to rally, but his muscles fail him. He’s barely managing to push against Stede’s hold now, his limbs nearly pinned against the cushions.

“Almost done,” Stede murmurs. “Are you ready to stop yet?” 

Ed struggles pathetically in Stede’s grasp, his breath coming in dizzying gasps. All he can feel is how fucking exhausted he is. 

Stede finally forces his arms all the way down, holding him fast.

“Stop now,” Stede commands. “All done fighting. Just… rest.”

Ed has no choice but to obey, leverage and muscles abandoning him. He lets his head fall back, trying to catch his breath.

“Lovely,” Stede croons. “Let go. Relax.”

Ed’s body is spent. He sinks into the chaise, into Stede’s grip, and lets them both hold him. 

“Deep breaths, darling,” Stede urges. Ed obeys automatically, body still hungry for oxygen. He breathes in, out. He goes boneless as his breathing slows, letting himself sag into Stede’s grip.

It feels like floating, he realizes vaguely.

Stede’s hands release his wrists, stroking down his arms, his chest.

“Sink for me, now,” Stede murmurs sweetly.

Ed’s head is spinning gently, and it’s so easy to sink with Stede’s touch. His eyes flutter shut on a sighing exhale, and he feels boneless. Weightless, almost.

“That’s right, darling. Just relax and sink. You can let me take charge now.”

Ed nods absently. Stede taking charge sounds nice. He’d much rather keep floating, anyway.

“Good boy,” Stede breathes into Ed’s ear.

Ed shivers. He lets out a sound that might have been a groan, if he wasn’t so wrung out. As it is, it’s a mewling, plaintive thing.

“Tell me who’s in control, darling.”

“You are,” Ed breathes.

“You’ll do as I tell you.”

“Y-yeah.”

“Say it, Edward.”

“Do’s’you tell me,” he slurs, and it fills him with a slow, spreading warmth. It runs down his spine, to pool in his hips.

Then Stede’s fingers push against Ed’s lips again.

“Open.”

Ed lets his lips part - doing as Stede tells him - and Stede slides his fingers into his mouth again.

Stede shifts his weight, grinding their erections together through their clothes. Ed’s heartbeat throbs between his legs, and he moans shamelessly around Stede’s fingers.

After that, it’s a dizzy haze of pleasure. Stede’s body moves against his, hot and demanding. He murmurs honeyed words into Ed’s ears, and it feels like they go directly to Ed’s body without him processing them at all.

He feels submerged. Leagues underwater, where the sun doesn’t reach. There’s a pressure to it, holding him down, even as he moans and writhes under Stede’s touch.

He marvels at all of it in slow motion: Stede’s mouth crushing against his, hot and possessive, while Ed responds with sluggish, drunken movements. 

Stede laughs softly against Ed’s lips.

“You’re so pliant like this,” he smirks, “so obedient.”

Ed nods. It’s easy to do as Stede tells him. 

Stede moves him like a doll, removing his shirt, opening his trousers. He strokes and teases at the bared skin, dipping his head down to lap at a nipple until Ed squirms and moans.

It’s like something out of a dream. Ed knows, vaguely, that this is fucking earth-shattering, but floating in the deep water like this, he’s full of slow, profound contentment. 

Then Stede is shifting off of his lap and guiding Ed off the chaise, lowering him…onto his knees?

Ed blinks, looking up at Stede in confusion. 

“You’re going to kneel for me now, darling,” Stede murmurs.

Something seems off about that, but he can’t figure out why. His brows draw together with the effort of trying to think. 

“Edward,” Stede chides. “Relax. It’s not your job to make decisions right now, is it?”

No, of course. He just has to do as Stede tells him.

“Good boy. Down you go.”

Then Stede’s hands are on his shoulders urging him down, and Ed goes.

–

Stede takes a moment, once Ed is settled on his knees, just to admire him, swaying and tranced and half-naked at Stede’s whim.

God, but it’s glorious. He’s never felt more powerful.

Stede adores Ed in all his forms: Ed as Blackbeard, all brilliance and charisma and swagger. Ed’s unbridled enthusiasm, the sheer, inexplicable delight he takes in Stede’s foibles. Ed’s rare vulnerable moments, soft and wide-eyed, hesitantly, miraculously allowing Stede to comfort him. 

But for the multitudes that Ed contains, there’s something especially delicious, perhaps forbidden, about being the one to strip it all away and watch Ed surrender. It’s intoxicating, sending a frisson down his spine, settling hot and heady in his - well.

Stede hadn’t expected to take this in quite such a physical direction. Truthfully, he’s never much seen the point of the whole endeavor. But with Ed kneeling pliant at his feet - at his command - good god. Stede presses a palm to the front of his breeches and thinks he could begin to understand what all the fuss is about.

He feels electric, half-drunk with it. He reaches out and pets at Ed’s hair just because he can, and Ed leans into it. On pure instinct, he grips at Ed’s hair, urging his face upward, and there’s no resistance, just a low, plaintive noise, and Ed’s big, liquid eyes gazing up at him.

Stede has the sudden urge to drag Ed forward and rut up against him, to seek his own selfish pleasure. He forces himself to breathe, to focus. Whatever’s come over him?

Rhetorical, of course. Obvious. Seeing Ed like this is casting a spell over Stede as surely as if he was the one hypnotized.

He’s greedy for more. He wants to know what Edward will do for him, what commands he will obey, which he will resist. Wants to know how firm those boundaries are, and whether he can push past them. He’s going to take Ed apart down to his component pieces before putting him back together.

In a stunning act of self-discipline, he releases Ed’s hair, settling on the chaise. He groans out loud at the aching hardness between his legs. His body is clamoring with desire, ravenous like someone waking after a lifetime of sleep.

And here’s Ed, kneeling at his feet.

Stede opens his breeches and reaches for Ed.

—

Ed’s drifting, easy and relaxed, when Stede pulls him forward.

Ed goes easily, happy to be steered, and oh - that’s Stede’s cock, hard and leaking. Oh, fuck yes.

Ed’s face is inches from it, letting him look his fill. In fact - oh - Stede is pulling him closer.

“Open your mouth now, there’s a darling,” comes the murmured command, and Ed obeys without thinking, not putting the pieces together until -

He pulls back at the last second, rousing himself enough to control his own body.

“H-huh?” He blinks up at Stede.  

His cock fucking aches.

“Ed, darling. Are you trying to think?” Stede’s smiling down at him indulgently. 

“I…” Ed frowns. His brain feels slow and clumsy. “Yeah, but -”

“Whose job is that?”

Ed’s eyes flutter, the question thrilling through him. He finds himself sighing happily, easing back into the calm, floating peace. “Yours,” he murmurs.

“That’s right,” Stede agrees. “You don’t want to have to think, do you?”

Fuck, he really doesn’t. Feels like so much work. Ed shakes his head.

“I thought not. Don’t worry - I’m not going to let you think again for quite a while yet, as long as you’re a good boy for me.” Ed’s stomach goes squirmy and warm at that, and Stede smirks. “You’re going to be good for me, right?”

Ed nods urgently. It feels so important to be good for Stede.

“Lovely. Now. Come here, darling. I’m going to use your mouth.”

Stede tugs him forward again, and Ed goes.

He can be good, can’t he?

Ed’s mouth falls obediently open, but he squeezes his eyes shut as Stede guides him forward. When his lips brush the warm tip of Stede’s cock, he lets out a plaintive whimper, prickles of heat dancing on his skin. Fuck. He feels his frown deepen, calm serenity receding like the tide. Be good, he reminds himself, but it rings hollow somehow. He wants to be good, and, fuck, it feels good, letting Stede use him like a - 

He stiffens and pulls back. No. He doesn’t - can’t - want that. “I - sorry,” he mutters. 

Stede tuts, smoothing his thumb over the furrow in Ed’s brow. “Hush, darling,” he says. “You’re doing beautifully. Just sink for me.” He strokes his thumb downward, between Ed’s eyes, repeating the movement as Ed’s face relaxes, the muscles going slack. His eyes drift close, and they don’t reopen. “You’re not quite sure about this, hmm? All right. Let’s try this. When I give you a command, you may resist if you like, but the more you resist, the more aroused you’ll become. Nod if you understand.”

Ed’s head bobs up and down.

“Very good. Get your mouth on my cock, Edward.”

Ed sways forward instinctively before pulling himself back, eyes popping open. 

He flushes with heat, and there’s Stede’s cock, inches from his mouth, and Ed wants -

“Stede,” he whispers helplessly, shaking his head. 

Stede smirks. “Still fighting, I see. Touch yourself, Edward.”

Ed grinds his hand against the front of his trousers. He groans, eyes dropping closed as the hot-sweet rush of pleasure rolls through his body.

“Keep going. Picture your mouth on me.”

It’s effortless, the images playing through his addled mind in dizzying flashes. Heat surges through him, followed by a rush of shame, and he wrenches his hand away from his cock. To avoid the images in his head, he opens his eyes, only to find Stede’s fingers trailing teasingly along his own length. 

Oh fuck.

Ed whimpers. “Please.”

Stede smirks. “Use your tongue on me.”

Ed leans forward again, barely stopping himself this time.

“F’k’n hell,” he croaks. His hand moves relentlessly on his cock.

Stede’s voice is stern this time. “Lick, Edward.” Then Stede’s hand is on his head, tugging him forward, and Ed groans, lips pressing to Stede’s fever-hot cock.

His tongue darts out without permission.

Stede hums in satisfaction. “Oh, good boy.” 

Ed whimpers at the praise, breathing hard. Oh, fuck, he feels good. Half out of his mind with it, hazy and high as he rolls his hips into the pressure of his own hand.

Stede’s hand nudges him again, and with a groan, Ed follows, licking again, more confidently now. 

“Notice how it feels, Ed. Enjoy it.”

Ed shudders, his cock twitching against his hand. He’s dizzy, drunk with arousal, and he can’t seem to move away. 

If anything, he’s getting more eager, tonguing at Stede’s dick with wanton little gasps as he grinds his hand against his own cockstand.

There’s a long moment of relative silence. The only noises in the cabin are two sets of labored breathing and the obscene, slick slide of Ed’s tongue.

Stede chuckles, low and warm. “You are enjoying it, aren’t you? I knew you could do it, darling.”

With a moan that’s almost a sob, Ed nods, dragging his tongue from the root of Stede’s cock all the way to the tip, and shivers with how fucking good he feels.

Stede’s hand comes to the top of his head, scratching gently through his hair. “Having your mouth on my cock feels wonderful,” he croons. “You want more.”

Ed whines, open mouthed and lewd. 

Fucking hell.

“That’s right, darling. Keep thinking about it.” Stede says, dark and intent. “When you realize that you want my cock back between your lips, you’re going to beg me for it.”

–

It takes him seven minutes. Seven delicious, unbelievably arousing minutes of watching Ed struggle between his taboos and his arousal. He’s working Stede’s cock with more urgency, his breath coming in ragged puffs. At the four minute mark, Ed’s hips start moving under him, a subtle thing at first. By minute six, he’s grinding constantly into his hand, so obviously close that Stede takes the precaution of ordering him not to come without permission.

Stede feels like he’s in a dream, and he’s never been harder in his entire life.

Finally, Ed licks back to the head of Stede’s cock, swirling his tongue around it over and over. His lips nudge against the tip intermittently, and every time, he quickly pulls back as far as he can while keeping his tongue on Stede.

When he squeezes his eyes closed and whimpers, Stede knows he’s won.

“Stede,” Ed pants, between strokes of his tongue. “Fuck - I - please.”

Stede resists the urge to whoop victoriously.

“Please what?” He keeps his voice pleasant.

“Please,” Ed says, voice shaking. “I - your cock - I -” He sucks in a deep breath through his nose. “I want it. In my m-mouth.” He opens his eyes, then, looking at Stede with wide, pleading eyes.

“Say it for me once more,” Stede says, feeling almost lightheaded himself.

“Please.”

Stede nods shakily. “Yes,” he manages. “You - you may. Very good.”

And then Ed’s lips are back around his cock, fuelled by the weight of the taboo and by the heat of arousal that has Ed grinding forward into thin air as he works Stede’s cock.

Stede shudders. “What a good little toy you are,” he whispers hoarsely. “You’re going to swallow for me,” he orders, and Ed moans brokenly around his cock, brows drawn together in conflicted arousal.

God, Stede is close. He can never come this easily, but everything about this is spurring him along, easy as anything.

“Darling,” he gasps, “whatever else you remember from today, you’re going to remember exactly how much this turned you on.”

Ed whimpers brokenly as he takes Stede’s cock deeper.

That’s it - it’s all been so much, but seeing Ed’s arousal win out over his resistance - it’s more than Stede can take. He spills into Ed’s mouth, and Ed stays put, swallowing every drop with filthy, plaintive moans.

Stede comes back to himself slowly, savoring the aftershocks before pushing Ed off his too-sensitive cock. Ed kneels on the floor, eyes huge, lips swollen, and - fuck - he’s still thrusting his hips forward, mindless with arousal. His cockstand is an obscene bulge in his trousers, and Stede is seized with another, impossible tide of lust.

He shoves a foot between Ed’s thighs.

“Get yourself off,” he says, voice rough with pleasure. “Show me what a good toy you are, darling.”

Ed’s eyes widen further, if possible, but there’s only a moment of resistance. He pushes himself forward, grinding against the gossamer silk of Stede’s stockings.

Ed’s cries grow less restrained with every rock of his hips, eyes growing dazed and desperate. His breath becomes ragged, and before long, his hips are moving quick and sloppy, operating on pure instinct, pure lust.

Stede thinks it may be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

When Ed comes, it’s with an anguished, wanton cry, clutching at him like his life depends on it. His hips keep moving against Stede’s leg for a long minute after, riding the aftershocks of his release with helpless, intoxicating whimpers.

When he stills, Ed just leans his head against Stede’s knee, panting softly. He’s boneless and blank, clinging to Stede without an ounce of shame.

“That’s a good pet,” Stede murmurs, and Ed somehow melts further, slumping bonelessly onto Stede’s leg with a dreamy, contented sign. His cheek rests against Stede’s knee, his eyes half-lidded and empty. Peaceful.

The things Stede could do with Ed in this state. The things he could make him do. Against all odds, Stede’s cock twitches with renewed interest at the thought. He chuckles, shaking his head.

Oh, if Mary could see him now. He presses his hand to his mouth, stifling a hysterical giggle. With any luck, she’s having a better time of it than she ever did with him.

Well. Quite enough of that line of thought.

“Time for bed, I think,” he murmurs, refocusing himself on Ed. He strokes his hair, feeling suddenly tentative. “Shall I…er. Take you out of trance?”

Ed’s brow furrows and he shakes his head, petulant. “Nuh-uh.” He sighs dreamily. “S’nice.”

Stede smiles. “Very well,” he says. “Come to bed, then.”

There’s a bit of work to get them both divested of their remaining clothes, but soon they’re under the covers. Ed curls into Stede, sweet and sated, and they both drift easily into slumber.

–

Ed wakes the next morning warm and content. He takes his sweet fucking time coming properly to consciousness, because why ruin a perfectly good dream?

And then he wakes up the rest of the way, and holy fucking shit.

It takes Ed a solid ten minutes to really believe it all fucking happened, and another five to start freaking out about it. Then Stede rolls over, tangling his limbs all up with Ed’s like the world’s sleepiest, blondest octopus, and the panic dies a sudden and decisive death.

Ed lets himself be tugged back towards sleep by Stede’s warmth and his slow, soft breathing. When he wakes again, Stede’s arm is wrapped snug around Ed’s middle. The sun is up, glinting off the red-gold hair on Stede’s forearm.

Right, okay. Maybe he can let the street hypnotist off the hook. Just this once.