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Stede will do whatever Ed asks of him, whatever it takes to not scare him away. He wants to do it right this time, doesn’t want to fuck it all up, wants to give Ed what he deserves. But he’s also a man with needs, needs he’s only just realized are actually alive inside him and pounding at his chest and screaming, so like a gentleman, he’d taken care of them in the bathroom while Ed was finishing up his punishment duties on deck.
Ed, apparently, had not had the foresight to do anything of the sort.
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It also doesn’t help Stede’s sanity that he’s taken to letting Ed take the scratchy sack off while he sleeps, hearing Ed’s sighs as the soft fabrics slide across his skin, the bell tinkling as he finds the perfect position. He’s usually out like a light, decades at sea teaching him to sleep when he can, and then Stede doesn’t hear from him until morning. It’s not morning now, but he’s definitely hearing from Ed.
Faint rustling noises from the couch reach his ears over the sounds of the waves rocking the ship, and on top of that Stede can make out a much more rhythmic sound, punctuated by little gasps and whines and the small chime of a bell.
Stede is never going to look at that cursed bell the same way ever again. He imagines grabbing the front of it and tugging , jolting Ed’s head forward, and his brain fills in the rest of the image of Ed’s mouth around his cock, those brown eyes glittering up at him as his lips stretch and stretch and stretch around the base of him, fuck, fuck —
And then Ed rushes out a little thank you before the slick noises return, faster than before, and Stede feels like he might pass out.
Stede wants to peel the gauzy curtain back and look , watch the frantic movements of Ed’s body as he pleasures himself because of Stede. For Stede. -
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"Stede’s mind runs through what everything could mean like its rapidly flipping through the pages of a book, flashes of tangled limbs and morning cups of tea and silver turning to white."