Chapter Text
Stede Bonnet was pregnant.
That much rang certain, with every retch of bile that drew its way up from his throat. It pounded against his skull, each heave a reminder of exactly what he was doing this all for. Clinging to the railing of the ship, sweat beading along his forehead, Stede clung to the notion that this suffering, this stinging in his throat served a purpose. As the wood splintered beneath his fingertips, he clung to such purpose and refused to make room for any such regrets.
Stede Bonnet was pregnant, and hell, more than that, he was happy to be.
”Happy” hardly even began to cover the depth of his emotion. He was ecstatic, he was overjoyed, he was elated, he was delighted, he was bloody fucking euphoric. With every waking moment, with every second spent reveling in this newfound peace, Stede counted himself as blessed by the heavens above. In their knotted, hazy conversations, sleepy and sated and spent, Ed had described him as ”beaming, fucking glowing.” And how could he be anything less, with his alpha’s child growing just inside his womb?
Ed’s rut came and went without too much fuss, Stede slipping silently to and from the captain’s quarters onto deck on the rare occasion that the morning sickness overcame him. But as Ed emerged from his rut and the haze of it subsided, Stede was left without the squirming satisfaction of a knot buried inside, replaced only by the roiling in his stomach. It was bittersweet and uncomfortable, but Stede accepted his role with a newfound grace.
Ed had hardly spent a second away from his side in the two weeks since his rut had started, in the two weeks since they had realized that Stede was with child. Whatever underlying protective instinct had smoldered within him before, it had been fully ignited now, hardly allowing the omega a second out of his sight. They had stayed tucked away and safe within their alcove for nearly two days after Ed’s rut had ended, shielded away from the rest of the crew, away from the rest of the world. And Stede hadn’t pressed it, hoping to hold such sacred little secrets quiet between them for just awhile longer.
There was no real hiding it once they set foot aboard the deck, facing the broad daylight, without the cloak of shadow, of dusk, of dawn. Even if Izzy had kept his secret for him, there was no denying now that his scent had started to change, and the waves of nausea were certain to be a dead giveaway. There was simply the implication of his silence, whatever that may be.
And there was no real use in hiding it, the secrecy serving only to spare him some perverted sense of dignity, instilled in him since birth. But with Ed’s soft words and gentle reassurances, the worship found beneath his fingertips, Stede had uncovered a newfound sense of pride in this pregnant state. Even with the bile burning up his throat, he languished in the idea, fell in love with the little life growing inside of his belly. And with such glorious creation, how could he feel anything less than pride?
And Ed had certainly been proud to emerge from the captain’s quarters at the end of his rut, a hand cupped protectively at his omega’s waist, a smug grin plastered on his face.
No one dared address it, of course, no one quite knowing how to bring it up, how to talk it through. It was certainly no secret, though; Stede could feel their knowing looks boring against the back of his skull, could hear how their hushed conversations fell silent in his presence. For a week now, they had existed in this in between, in this agonizing state of rumors and secrecy. He could feel the difference in the way that they looked at him, the atmosphere dripping with an air of awkwardness, everyone doing their damnedest to tiptoe around the conversation.
And despite all his pride, all his joy, how was Stede meant to announce it? When was he meant to announce it? It was a taboo subject, even amongst the respectable, married women. It was a woman’s work, to be spoken of only amidst the company of women; of course, his capability of carrying a child was a mere fluke, a curse of god, never to be acknowledged in the company of anyone…
And of course, the decorum of polite society held no bearings here.
Still, his words couldn’t quite seem to arrange themselves on his tongue outside of the confines of their quarters, spoken only in whispers between lovers. Secret confessions spilled over and over again, their mutual adoration for this child of theirs declared softly within the consecrated walls of their alcove. Stede had woken nearly every morning since their realization with Ed’s head resting on his belly, the affection and devotion flowing unbridled from his lips, whispered in the hazy light of dawn.
It was unlike anything Stede had ever witnessed, had ever experienced in his own life. Such raw and palpable adoration had never been extended to him, such boundless love never once offered. No one had ever carried such concern for him, had never loved him beyond obligation. But then there was Ed, whose love knew no limits, who held such infinite affections for Stede and their unborn child in equal measure; Ed, who would burn the whole world down to protect this little family of theirs.
Even still, how the rest of the crew might react to such blatant confirmation was still to be determined. Some part of him still feared the rejection of making their plans so widely known, rather than leaving them up to the gossip and speculation. Their intentions hadn’t exactly been made widely known beforehand, their desires for a child confided in Izzy and Oluwande alone, but it was almost certain that word had gotten around. But rumors were one thing, and to say it aloud…
Stede was by no means a superstitious man, but there were some things that he didn’t care to jinx.
Still, even if he didn’t voice it, it was only a matter of time before word got around, before the confirmation came in one form or another. And as the nausea gripped tight around his stomach again, he made no use of hiding it from where he stood beneath the quarterdeck, just outside the door to his cabin, heaving over the railing of the ship. The bile sinking beneath the tread of the ship, Stede wiped away the sweat that had formed along his hairline, shoulders slumping forward as the nausea eased its hold.
His hand moved to rest against his belly, in part to soothe the ache left in the wake of his nausea and gagging, in part to rest just above his womb. With every press of his palm against his belly, he found that overwhelming peace, again and again.
It was cold, the early light of morning providing little warmth just yet. They were in the waning days of autumn now, winter fast approaching, and even as they chased the heat along the equator, there were moments he caught himself shivering. Ed had disappeared from the bed early, before Stede had even had the chance to rouse from sleep. It wasn’t exactly uncommon these days, though, for Ed to bring him breakfast in bed, turning to pamper and protect him at every opportunity.
Stede couldn’t bring himself to object, of course. He found himself lavishing every moment, appreciation taken in every lingering glance, in every brush of Ed’s fingers over his belly, in every confession of love and adoration. There was no anxiety in waking to the empty sheets beside him, some blessed assurance that Ed would always return to him, would always come back to find him.
“You know,” a familiar voice called from behind, the scent of cinnamon and tea leaves wafting along with it. “I have something that can take care of that for you.”
Stede turned to face Lucius, a mug in hand, steeping the teabag between two fingers. Leaning against the wall, Stede met his eyes with a curious look, eyebrow cocked. “What’s in it?”
“Mugwort,” he answered plainly, drawing it to his lips and taking a sip. “Clear you right out. Might have been better to take it before Ed started his rut, but if you want to wait until next month, it’ll start your heat straight away. Should still be early enough at that point.”
Suddenly, Stede understood the implication, a gasp rising to his throat, one hand shielding his belly with the other raised to his chest with his offense. ”No!”
“No?” Lucius raised an eyebrow, taking another sip.
“No,” Stede repeated, more sternly this time. “No. Thank you.”
“Oh… Oh my god.”
Stede nearly choked on his voice as it rose to his lips, escaping in a squeak as he to struggled hold himself steady through the crashing waves of muddled emotion. “What?”
“Oh my god, this is happening. Fucking shit, you two are actually serious about… Jesus Christ.”
Stede’s lips sputtered out something incomprehensible, the words refusing to form against his tongue as he searched for some explanation, some reasoning, something beyond his blatant confirmation. But what more blatant confirmation could be given than such swift objection to the alternative?
And what use was there in lying? It was an open secret, the hottest gossip on the ship, there was no doubting that much. Everyone had been acting so damn weird around him already, there was certainly nothing that he could say that could make it any worse. To lie would be to dig himself in deeper; to lie would be an admission of the shame that he had carved out of himself; to lie would be a disgrace to the man that he so deeply adored, the man whose child was tucked safe within his womb.
To lie would be to deny the presence of the oldest gift known to man. And who was he to deny the simple truth of such wondrous gifts?
“I… We’re… I… Okay, yes,” he sighed, eyes downcast, somewhere between guilt and shame. He felt caught, outed, despite all his disregard for secrecy, like his silence had counted as some sort of lie. “We’re… I’m going to have this baby. I want to have this baby. And I’m not getting rid of it, so you can keep your tea to yourself.” He cleared his voice, adjusting his clothes, making some futile attempt to hold his composition. “Thank you, but no thank you.”
”Baby,” Lucius echoed, the word rolling incredulously off his tongue. “Bit early to be calling it that, right?”
“I don’t think so,” Stede breathed solemnly, hand cupping tighter over the gentle swell of his belly, rubbing circles against the skin. “That’s what it’ll be at the end of this, right?”
“So Izzy wasn’t just drunk, he was telling the fucking truth?” he spat, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “I am not sleeping on this ship with a fucking infant. Jesus Christ, it’s not safe out here for an infant, what the hell are you--”
Stede rolled his eyes, letting out a groan as he pushed himself upright, moving away from the wall as he shoved past Lucius. The rumors had gotten out of hand, fuelled by nothing more than drunken fragments of the reality. The tension, the awkward glances, the hushed falls in conversation, the judgment… The atmosphere was starting to feel suffocating, and if anything might bring him the peace he sought, it would be nothing but the truth.
He ignored the stinging ghosts of bile in his throat, raising his voice to call out, loud enough to be heard below deck. ”Everyone on deck!”
Lucius’ judgments and protests fell silent as Stede made enough noise to wake anyone left sleeping, until the crew filed slowly on deck. About half of them still looked to be only half-awake, the other half wandering up from the kitchen, the scent of sausage and eggs wafting up behind them.
And Ed.
Ed rushed up to meet him, discarding the tray of food between his arms onto the nearest flat surface, instead rushing with wide eyes to meet him. Whatever remained of his anxiety or apprehension in such public confession melted beneath his alpha’s touch, an arm slipping protectively around his waist. Everything faded to the background, drowned out by such overwhelming pride. “What’s going on, love?”
“I’m just clearing the air,” Stede whispered, leaning close enough to press a kiss against his nose, always eager to oblige at any opportunity to offer up such soft little affections. There was a moment, the quiet settling amidst the deck, where it felt like nothing had changed. He was the same man that had stood in front of them all those months ago, the same man that he had been at the start of their voyage.
But Stede Bonnet had undergone this divine metamorphosis, had been transformed beneath the crashing waves, had been changed at his very core. It was only a matter of time before his body begun to reflect such glorious transformation, and only a matter of time before things would change for the crew. With retirement would follow new leadership, new adventures. For all the changes that would take place in his body, tucked inside of his womb, what more would change for those around him? Those who loved him? No, it was better to confess it all now.
“I understand that some gossip has been circulating around the ship these past few weeks, and we clearly have some talking it through to do.” He drew in a breath, eyes turning to Ed, finding brown-eyed reassurance. “I would just like to be the first to clear the air, and confirm that the rumors are in fact true.” The words spilled from his tongue like water, flowing free and easy past his lips, the truth accompanied by its everlasting peace. A small smile parted across his lips as he spoke, leaning closer into his alpha’s beaming touch. “I’m pregnant.”
There was a silence that followed, like they were waiting on him to follow it up with something, anything. Silence befalling his crew was a rarity in its own right, but with all eyes on him, Stede could feel his heart slamming hard against his ribcage. But Ed’s hand, tight against his waist, held close against his form, the pride spilling into the very aura of his being, was enough to still him, to offer such sweet reassurance.
“Right,” Ed followed up, the uncertainty trailing at the end of his voice. Such uncertainty, though, stopped sharply in his diaphragm as he opened his mouth to speak again. “Any questions?”
Roach raised a tentative hand.
“Yes, Roach,” Stede called back in his usual, chipper voice.
He paused, searching for the right words, for some correct phrasing, finding only one word instead. “Why?”
“Okay, no more questions,” Ed groaned, pinching at the bridge of his nose, an exasperated sigh passing from his lips.
“I mean, why here? Why now?” Roach attempted to mitigate, raising hands in defense. Despite the falling sense of disappointment in his chest at such reaction, Stede knew that there was no offense intended, and granted the grace as such. “It’s just… The sea isn’t exactly a--”
“What he’s trying to say is,” Frenchie interrupted. “The sea’s no place for a child, Captains.”
The waves of dejection and anxiety lapped heavy against the rocks, but Ed’s love stood tall as a lighthouse. Stede found his safety within its warmth, leaning closer to his touch, finding refuge from the storm between his arms, a lighthouse keeper in his own right. Inhaling slowly, he could still catch whiffs of his scent, the honey and seasalt embedded into creases in his leathers.
“We’re planning…” Stede paused, searching for the right term. Retirement had felt so permanent, too heavy to admit just yet. The sea would always be there for them to return to, would always welcome them home should they so choose, but… “We’re planning to take a leave of absence. We’ll be taking a few years to plant some roots, to raise a family.”
“We’re gonna run an inn,” Ed added swiftly, an eager tone ringing in his voice.
“Exactly. We’ll be trying our hand at innkeeping for awhile.” A small smile parted across Stede’s lips, met in turn by Ed’s toothy grin. “A bed and breakfast, actually.”
“And fishing equipment,” Ed continued decidedly, their future already mapped out so clearly in his mind’s eye.
“And fishing equipment,” Stede echoed in agreement.
There was another quiet pause, but the tension didn’t settle quite so heavy amidst them, some collective relief at the explanation. With the understanding that there would be no one inconvenienced, no one’s sleep interrupted, no infant’s put in harm’s way, there was a quiet sigh that passed between them. The suspense that had spent the past weeks building in hushed whispers and passing rumors suddenly found its release, the strain mended.
Again, tentatively, Roach raised a hand to question.
“Yes, Roach,” Stede chirped.
“Do we get a discount on the rooms at your inn?” he asked with all sincerity.
A wide smile split across Stede’s lips, turning watch as a smile escaped from Ed’s lips, eyes crinkling at the corners. He was beautiful in all his forms, in his agony and in his rage and in lust and in his pride, but so especially in his joy. The lines marked by his laughter, the wrinkles that permanently etched the corners of his eyes… He was beautiful.
“You get the family discount, all of you, you won’t owe us a dime. Standing reservations, your own suites, each and every one of you,” Stede announced, voice gleeful and jittery at the very prospect. His friends, his family, coming to stay, to be greeted by their boundless hospitality. “As long as you come to visit, you’ll always have a place to stay.”
There was a chorus of ringing approval at that, Ed’s arm wrapping tighter around him, pulling him deeper into a hug. Stede reveled in such casual displays of affection, in the blessing of his crew, in the future that they had decided for themselves. Without sacrifice, without compromise, Stede had found family.
Ed’s hands drifted down around Stede’s waist, hands returning to their place cupped just beneath his belly, cradling against its gentle swell. It felt natural as gravity, the pull of his palms to the place where his child grew, proprietary and protective over the joyous light that burned between his arms.
And with such came planning, came preparation, came work.
His boredom in the ceaseless cycles of planning and executing had finally come to an end, his fascination piqued by this final great adventure. One more for the road, one more to live off of for the next decade, one more victory lap across the seven seas before at last setting his roots. His ambition was reignited, like a fucking fire lit beneath his ass, and with the unanimous approval of their crew, he was ready to get to work.
“But until then,” Ed started, calling the attention back toward the front. “Izzy and I have been laying out a plan. We’ve got nine… Eight? Nine?”
Brown eyes turned to meet Stede, seeking confirmation, met only with an uncertain shrug in return.
“We have several months before the baby’s born, all things willing,” he finally settled. “We’ve got that time to pillage, plunder, and raise enough hell to live off of, at least for awhile.”
“At least until our inn is up and running,” Stede interjected.
“Right, until our inn is up and running,” Ed nodded in agreement. “But it’ll take all of us to execute this plan. If you all are up for it.” His voice trailed, tapering like a question at the end of it, reassured only by the resounding approval that echoed through the crowd.
”Of course,” Jim replied solemnly, all sincerity held in their voice.
“We get to do some actual pirating?” Black Pete called back excitedly. ”Fuck yeah.”
“I don’t know,” Frenchie muttered, the apprehension hanging from his tongue, the superstition looming above him like a cloud. Not particularly uncommon of Frenchie, though. “Bad luck to have a pregnant omega on board, from what I’ve always heard.”
“Oh, fuck off, Frenchie,” Olu interrupted with rolling eyes. “If that were true, we would be dead by now. Lucius misses every other heat without those teas of his.”
“It’s true, and I would think that the graveyard that is Lucius’ womb would bring about worse luck than a baby,” Roach defended. “And I think it’s only women that are bad luck anyways. Lucius aside, pregnant male omegas are a rarity, so if anything, I think they’re probably actually good luck.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Lucius groaned, taking another sip from the mug tucked warm between his palms. “It’s not like I’m getting myself pregnant. Blame Pete, I don’t know how he keeps doing it.”
“I’m incredibly virile for a beta,” Pete chimed in proudly.
“Ew,” Archie muttered.
“Gross,” Jim chirped in agreement.
Lucius offered a halfhearted shrug, leaning against Pete where he stood. “And hey, at least I don’t hold any delusions that I would actually make a good father.” There was a moment of silence, a collective processing of the words just uttered before his eyes went wide, turning to meet Stede. “No offense.”
Stede searched for the words, some quippy reply or easy dismissal, but he choked on his voice as it rose to his lips, sputtering and finding nothing to return. The words stung against his ribs, echoing in his ears with the notion of delusion, weighing heavy against the base of his skull.
He was hardly any stranger to the accusation of delusion. He had heard it all, the gentleman who had deluded himself into believing that he could become a pirate, the fortunate son set off to live a life of lawlessness and heathenry. He had been delusional enough to give up his land, his wealth, his family, his comfort, his life for the chance of some grand adventure. He had found peace in such delusion, had followed it to the far corners of the ocean, and it had led him straight to Ed.
And now, he would be called delusional for abandoning it all, for giving up all that he had worked to achieve, all that he had ever dreamed of, all that he had ever desired. Delusional for taking such early retirement, for thinking that he might find comfort in a married state, for believing that he might find peace in domesticity.
Maybe he had acted under assumption, had reveled in the joy of it without considering the consequences. Had he truly considered his own capability of fatherhood? What evidence had he to show for himself, when his only experience of fatherhood had been to the children that he had failed to love in the ways that they deserved? What truly made him deserving of a second chance? Had he even truly thought about it?
He could feel the bile stinging up his throat again.
Ed could sense Stede’s spiraling, could feel him growing faraway and distant beneath his touch. In some attempt to draw him back down to earth, he pressed a soft kiss against the scar on his neck, thick and pink and freshly healed again after Ed had reopened it in the throes of his rut. The anger toward Lucius reared up between his lungs as he briefly considered tossing him overboard again, letting him drown for such a slip of tongue, for such cruel implications.
His own delusions could be called into question, his capacity for fatherhood questionable in and of itself, in the wake of all his horror and bloodshed. But for the sadness that had suddenly filled Stede’s bones, for the shift in his demeanor? Ed could let him fucking drown.
“Fuck off, Lucius,” Olu broke the silence that befell them, cutting through the tension wrought at Ed’s seething gaze. “Don’t be such a dick. I think they’ll be good dads.”
“Yeah, just because you’d be a shit dad doesn’t make them delusional,” Frenchie defended. “At least they’re not haunting the ship with their thirty-three aborted fetuses.”
“Fucking please, nothing is haunting anybody. It’s not like I’m keeping thirty-three aborted fetuses actually on the ship,” Lucius protested, hands raised to defend himself.
There was a short pause, the quiet falling between them. “What are you doing with the aborted fetuses, Lucius?”
Lucius shrugged, making some vague gesture with his hands, miming the tossing over the side of the railing.
“You’re dumping them into the ocean?” Frenchie nearly yelled, a vein popping out against his forehead. “Are you trying to get us all cursed?”
“It’s better than keeping them on board,” Lucius bit back.
“Can we stop talking about how Lucius disposes of his aborted fetuses?” Oluwande interjected, calling the focus back to the matter at hand. “The point is, the captains are going to be good dads, and they’re not delusional for thinking so, you dick.”
“Yeah, they’re gonna be great dads,” Jim echoed in agreement, shooting a warm smile in their direction. “Stede does the best voices when he reads to us before bed, the kids will fucking love that.”
“Yeah, exactly, don’t listen to Lucius,” Olu assured, warm brown eyes turning back toward the captains, offering a look between sympathy and faith in the two of them. “He’s just bitter and jealous because he can’t do the wooden boy voice.”
“Yeah, we’ve all heard him try,” Wee John added from where he sat near the railing. “He’s bad at it.”
An instigative voice called from the far side of the deck, Izzy emerging from his place in the shadowy doorway of the fo’c’sle. “I haven’t heard him do the wooden boy voice.”
It was almost comical, how quickly the crew devolved into chaos, a cacophony of demands and protests, all attention turned toward Lucius and his poor attempts at a wooden boy voice. A smile pulled at the corners of Stede’s mouth, devolving quickly into a laugh, relishing in the moment of mayhem, all that he loved laid out before him. His friends, his family, the place where he belonged when the entire world had cast him aside…
Ed’s arms tightened around Stede’s waist, a kiss pressed hard against his mating scar, nuzzling deep into the scent of vanilla and cedar and ginger. The scent of ginger had grown stronger since Ed had first caught whiff of it, and he savored in every breath of it, drawing it deep into his lungs. The physical manifestation of their love, this blessed transformation that Stede was undergoing, this tangible bit of proof…
It was downright fucking addictive.
With Lucius’ high-pitched, godawful wooden boy voice ringing behind them, the crew erupting into cheers and laughter, Ed took the moment of distraction to tug Stede into the captain’s quarters. The door slamming shut behind them, hungry lips collided as he pushed his omega against the wall, falling into their easy, desperate rhythm. It was damn near fucking maddening, the way that Stede fucking Bonnet had him wrapped around his fucking fingers, but Ed found himself savoring every fucking second.
It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. No, never unwelcome. He followed his alpha’s lead, sinking into his kiss, melting beneath his touch as they laughed like children, the breath hot between their open mouths. It was all mischief and mayhem, sneaking away from the ruckus outside their door, slipping away to do things that they weren’t quite meant to be doing. It felt like the teenage whims that Stede had missed out on for the sake of appearances and family pride. All the moments that he had fantasized of for so long, offered up by Ed’s greedy tongue, hiding from prying eyes in a moment stolen just for themselves.
“What was that for?” Stede asked breathily, the laughter still hanging in the back of his throat as Ed’s lips moved south, kissing down his throat, along his collarbones.
“Figured this was the preferable alternative to throwing Lucius overboard again,” he teased, fingers dipping beneath the hem of his shirt. “I think the others are getting the job done though, at least on the humiliation front.”
Stede let out a small chuckle before devolving, his knees growing weak as a small moan escaped his lips, Ed’s fingers reaching up to tweak a nipple. His chest had grown particularly sensitive, in the early stages of this transformation, slowly filling out and softening in its preparation for the baby. Ed had taken every advantage, drawing every whimper and cry from Stede’s lips that he could muster, receptive to his every touch, his every command.
“And I wanted to show you my…” Ed paused, searching for the right word as his teeth latched against soft, pale flesh, suckling bruises against his collarbones. “Appreciation, I guess.”
“Appreciation?” Stede echoed, curls falling back against the oak as his eyes rolled back, melting into every brush of his fingers.
“Of fucking course, appreciation,” Ed hummed in affirmation, the word settling easy on his tongue. “You’re carrying my baby inside you. You just announced it to the crew, to the goddamn world.” His hands wandered downward, brushing along the curve of his belly, cupping over the bulge that had formed in the front of Stede’s trousers, stroking along the length through its cotton confines. “I’m fucking proud of you, sweetheart.”
Stede let out a whimper, hands gripping tight against the alpha’s shoulders to steady himself. His knees felt weak, head swimming with the sentiment of pride. No one had ever been proud of him, not like Ed.
“Christ, baby, I’ve barely got you going and you’re already rock fucking solid for me,” Ed huffed out breathlessly, forehead pressed into the crook of his omega’s neck, eyes downcast between them. He wanted to watch the fabric twitch, wanted to watch him grow wet with slick, wanted to watch him devolve beneath his fingers. “Always so fucking horny for me, aren’t you, Stede?”
It was hardly worth denying the accusations. This pregnancy had done something to him, had sent him into this state between heat and sobriety, constantly wanton and needy for his alpha’s cock. Even without the excuse of Ed’s rut, Stede found himself knotted two, three, four times a day, wet and open for him at any given moment. The words refusing to form at his lips, Stede buried his face into Ed’s shoulder and nodded, a whine ripped from his throat.
“Just feel that,” Ed remarked, gripping tight around his shaft through his slacks, the pressure drawing a fresh pulse of slick from between his thighs. Stede’s let out a hitched gasp, the breath knocked straight from between his lungs as he gripped tighter to his alpha’s shoulders, knees threatening to give way from beneath him. Ed’s free arm slipped around his waist, dipping beneath his waistband, fingers exploring the mess that he had made of himself. “So hard for me. So fucking wet for me.”
Two slick-soaked probed around his rim, drawing a cry from Stede’s lips, bucking sharp into the palm cupped around his cock. In all his humble obedience, he closed his eyes and simply felt, each touch sending fireworks and explosions ringing through his body.
“You wanna come for me, sweetheart?” Ed asked, like milk and honey oozing from his tongue. It spilled from his lips like seduction, like temptation, coaxing him ever closer to the brink.
Some stubborn rebellion reared up inside him, bucking against his will to submit. Stede wanted to push him away, to push him into the mattress and ride his knot, to chase after his own pleasure, to make Ed beg for his release. He had taken a liking to the top, had found a smug satisfaction in milking his alpha dry, in the mess that spilled from him in the aftermath.
But instead, his knees buckled beneath deft fingers, voice caught somewhere in his throat, chest tightening as his fingernails dug deep into tattooed arms, struggling to steady himself. Ed massaged lightly, insistently, ceaselessly through his pants, until Stede’s cock throbbed and pulsed, until he could no longer keep his hips from thrusting into his palm.
Christ, Stede wanted to feel him everywhere, wanted to kick off his clothes and be taken right then and there, to be fucked and knotted and bred again. But Ed would hardly grant him such pleasures, opting to torment him through his clothes, to take him apart with nothing more than his bare hands. He could feel his alpha’s own erection pressing against his thigh, twitching with each squirm and moan that escaped from Stede’s lips, spurred on by his whimpers and cries.
“It’s okay, baby,” Ed encouraged, the fingers that had probed along his rim slipping past the taut ring of muscle, brushing against his prostate, drawing another melodic cry from his omega’s lips. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re okay, love, it’s all okay. You can finish, darling, I’ll clean you up. I’ll take care of you.”
His words fell like the vows of the gods, spoken at the birth of humanity in such sweet rhapsody. Stede rocked against his touch, the heat rising in his face as he buried himself deeper into Ed’s touch, strong arms wrapped tight around him. His hips moved in short, jerky thrusts, Ed’s fingers moving in tandem, keeping pace with the frantic chase for his pleasure. His hands worked with a purpose, pulling Stede apart at the seams, manufacturing such divine satiation.
And how could Ed deny himself such pleasure as watching his omega come undone? He wanted to feel Stede go limp beneath his touch, wanted to make his lover forget the name of god and replace it with his own. He wanted to watch the fluid spill hot and tacky against the fabric, wanted to feel the damp heat spread wet against his palm, wanted the scent of cedar and vanilla and sweet, sweet fucking ginger to ingrain itself into the very fabric of his slacks. He wanted make Stede fall apart.
Ed was a selfish man, a greedy bastard who would take what he wanted with his bare hands. And if there was anything that Stede had proved himself to be in their time together, he had proved himself to be a selfless lover. Ed could take him apart with the brush of his fingers, with the parting of his lips, with a whispered command. Stede Bonnet was unconditionally, helplessly, irrevocably his.
And Ed treated such mutual possession with the reverence that it deserved. As needy and pliant as Stede might have been for him, Ed found himself groveling with the same such worship, his altar built between his omega’s thighs. He had found sanctuary there, peace caught in his embrace, and Ed was never letting go.
“It’s okay, baby. I just want you to come for me,” Ed purred.
Stede’s mouth fell agape as a gasp escaped his throat, a shudder racing down his spine, unexpected and uncontrolled. His back arched sharply as an obscene moan escaped from his lips, knees going weak from beneath him. He gripped tighter to Ed’s shoulders, clinging to him with all that was in him, knowing that he may fall to his knees if he dared to let go. His entire body trembled, throbbed, heart pounding in his ears as the wet heat began to pool against the cotton between his shaking thighs.
“Ed,” Stede uttered on gasping breaths, clinging tight to his alpha, fearing the fall that would follow should he dare to let go. His knees felt as stable as the crashing waves beneath him, threatening to give away, saved only by Ed’s strong hands. There was mercy granted as he pulled pulled away from his cock, from his hole, opting to grip tight to Stede’s swaying hips, holding him steady and upright. There was a safety found between calloused palms, a peace to be held within his embrace. The sleepy haze of orgasm threatening to overtake him, the words spilled incoherent from his tongue, babbling through blurry eyes. “Ed, I… I want… I… Please, Ed.”
”Shhh,” Ed shushed, coaxing him up into his arms, pulling him tighter to his chest. In a split moment, all his lust, all his desire faded to the silent background, his concern reserved solely for his omega and the child tucked within his womb. “I’ve got you, love. Let’s get you in the bath.”
“Knot?” Stede sputtered out, the only coherent thought to break through the fog.
“Later, sweetheart,” he assured, pressing a kiss against the golden curls settled against his shoulder. “Just let me take care of you.”
~~~~~~
”Olu,” Ed called, voice falling somewhere between a whisper and a yell, calling for Oluwande’s attention. It wasn’t exactly discrete, with Jim and Archie at his side, but he hoped that the tone in his voice might convey his desire for privacy. ”Olu, I need to talk to you.”
It was growing late into the afternoon, the sun beginning to dip over the horizon, growing close to its setting. Ed had drawn a bath for his pregnant omega, had bathed him, washed him clean, worshiped every exposed inch of his body for hours before putting him to bed. He’d watched Stede come apart in his hands, over and over, left sleepy and sated and spent by the end of it, blissed out and oversensitive by the time Ed tucked him into bed.
It was easy enough to slip out unnoticed, to slink out the door without waking his omega. It was harder to deny himself pleasure, to deny himself the release of knotting Stede as he pleaded with him for it. It was harder simply to leave, to move away from his side, so pretty tucked beneath silk covers.
But still, it was worth it all the same. There were questions that he needed answered, responsibilities that he needed to take up. And as the only one aboard who had carried a child to term, Oluwande seemed like the best place to start.
Olu shot him a confused look before rising to his feet, leaving Jim with a small pat against their shoulder, like some silent reassurance that he would be back. Matching the whisper-yelled tone of his voice, he called back. ”What?”
Ed waved him over into the shadow of the quarterdeck, standing in the closed doorway, seeking some semblance of privacy. There was little to be had on deck, not without heading toward the bowsprit, but it seemed too far a walk, too much a hassle. Within the shade of the doorway, though, it felt safe enough to speak. “I… I…” Even in the safety of his shade, he couldn’t quite find the words, couldn’t quite decipher anything over the noise in his head. The words spilled unfamiliar from his tongue, heavy in the back of his throat. “I need your help.”
“What can I do for ya?” Olu asked, hands tucked into his pockets, demeanor held so casual, like the world hadn’t changed quite so drastically in the span of mere weeks. Or, maybe he was just used to the constant shifting of the tides.
“You have a…” Ed nearly choked on the words as they came, uncertain of how to broach the subject, uncertain of whether or not he was even supposed to know. Still, the words, finally spilled, spat out like a flame, more like an accusation than he meant. “You have a daughter, don’t you?”
“I do,” he answered without shame or hesitation, as if it were obvious. “Oh, congratulations, by the way,” he added, the realization dawning as to what this conversation was really about. “No one said it before, but you deserve to hear it. Tell Stede I said so, too.”
“I-- Thank you,” he said, voice holding all sincerity in his tone. A small smile perked at the edges of his mouth before quickly pursing in his concern again, his brows pinched tight. “But, uh… You’ve… You’ve been pregnant before, yeah?”
Olu’s eyebrow cocked, giving him an incredulous sort of look as his arms folded across his chest. “Yeah, Ed, I’ve been pregnant before.”
With a desperate look in his eye, Ed’s hands curled tight around Olu’s shoulders. His chest heaved, suddenly struggling to catch the breath in his lungs, just short of dropping to his knees and groveling. “What do I do?”
Olu let out a laugh, a hand clapping against his back, offering up some physical form of reassurance. “I’m pretty sure you already did your job when you knocked him up.”
“Not like that,” Ed insisted, eyes turning up to meet him before pinching at the bridge of his nose, pulling himself back together. “I mean… How do I take care of him through this? Fuck, I don’t know. What do I do to make this easier on him?”
“Man, I don’t even know who Ria’s dad is, if I’m being completely honest with you,” Olu confessed, scratching at the back of his neck, weight shifting between his feet. “I don’t really know, there’s not much of a frame of reference. I was taking care of myself.”
“Fuck off, you weren’t just taking care of yourself. I took care of you!” Jim called from the other end of the deck, making their eavesdropping obvious.
“I don’t think that’s what he means!” Olu shouted back, the heat of his humiliation rising hot to his cheeks. Ed couldn’t quite decipher the details, but the implication was loud and clear.
“Keep him knotted, Ed,” Jim teased, strolling across the deck, hands tucked into their pockets, Archie following close behind. “I swear, pregnant omegas are like halfway in heat all the time. He’ll thank you for it, I promise.”
“You don’t have to go around fucking telling everybody, Jesus Christ,” Olu grumbled, face buried in his own palms.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed, Olu,” Jim chaffed, an arm slipping around his shoulders, standing on tiptoes to press a kiss against his temple. “It’s perfectly fucking normal, for one, and it’s been nearly a decade since you’ve even been pregnant.” Jim’s eyes turned to face him, shooting him a quick wink. “Besides, Ed could use the advice.”
“Okay, fuck, just listen,” Ed interjected, rubbing his eyes between two pinched fingers, calling the focus back to the matter at hand. “I don’t know jackshit about any of this, I don’t know how any of this works. I don’t know what’s happening inside of him, I don’t know what’s going to happen to him, and I just…” His eyes turned upward with a pleading look. “I need to know how I’m supposed to actually take care of him.”
“Alright, alright,” a new voice cut in from above. Ed’s eyes turned to find Izzy standing at the quarterdeck, having heard every word, every confession to spill from his lips. Ed’s face flushed hot, gaze turning toward his feet. “Fuck off, the lot of you.”
The three of them obeyed immediately, falling quickly beneath the command of his tone. And suddenly, Ed was left alone to stand beneath him, to listen to the fall of his footsteps, the wood of his leg against the wood of the stairs, until his oldest friend stood before him. Ed didn’t dare deny his gaze, meeting his cold brown eyes, filled with more compassion than he was used to.
“Congratulations, Captain,” Izzy said, holding a rare sincerity in his voice. He had already known, of course, had found out on the same day that they had figured it out for themselves. Their conversations regarding the topic had been kept brief, sparing the prying details, little more than a simple acknowledgement of what was to come shared between them. But the demeanor and dynamic had suddenly shifted toward one more empathetic than Izzy was typically known for; strange, but certainly not unwelcome. “I might be able to help answer some of your questions, you know.”
“You might?” Ed sputtered out in return. There was no question as to how he knew, immediate understanding that Izzy had once stood in his shoes. But to offer him advice, to relive such tragedy…
“Massage his back, and his feet, as often as you can. It won’t take long until he starts to feel sore, more often than not,” Izzy advised, offering no more explanation as to his motivations or the origin of his knowledge. “Once he starts to show, you can just wrap your arms around, hold his belly from behind, take the weight off his spine. The relief he’ll get from that, he’ll practically melt in your fucking arms.”
There was a faraway sort of look behind Izzy’s eyes, lost somewhere in a memory. Ed could put the pieces together, knew precisely who he was thinking about, knew precisely why. His lover, his omega, his child, his Jonathan. Izzy had once stood as a gleeful, expectant father, caring for his omega in the months before…
He tried to shake the thought from his mind, tried to ignore the possibility, fearing what might follow should he linger on it too long. He was hardly a superstitious man, but there were some things that he didn’t care to jinx.
Instead, he clung to Izzy’s every word, dipping between fantasy and reality with his every suggestion. Such uncharacteristic tenderness came so easily when it came to Stede Bonnet, his every word of guidance coming to him as natural as breathing in his mind’s eye. To relieve his every ache and pain, to show him every ounce of care…
It came as natural as breathing.
Such instinct had been ignited in his bones from the moment that he laid eyes on Stede Bonnet, bleeding out and gored on the deck of a Spanish naval ship. It had taken its root in the center of his chest as he nursed him back to health, had burned there ever since with a fiery sort of passion. With his baby growing in Stede’s belly, such flames had only been fed, kerosene poured upon them, this protective sort of impulse growing by the day.
And with such a fire, how could Ed do anything less than pledge his life, his blood, his soul to Stede Bonnet? Flames like these would burn until the day that he died, fuelled by his adoration and his righteous devotion. Stede Bonnet had made him a man of faith, and he would fall to his knees in worship, in whatever forms such worship required of him. To offer up his sacred communion and consummation, to wash his feet with his joyous tears and dry them with his hair…
“Come on,” Izzy sighed, calling his attention back to earth, away from the fears and fantasies echoing against his skull. “Walk with me. There’s a lot you have to learn.”
A small smile perked across Ed’s lips, ignoring his worst case scenarios in favor of the time spent with his friend, his first mate, his mentor. “Yeah? Like what?”
“Well, first of all,” he started, drawing a cigarette to his lips as they walked. “Jim wasn’t exactly wrong…”