Chapter Text
It’s still early when Ed wakes, the sun not quite making it into the bedroom fully, but the bed is cold next to him when he rolls over, arms outstretched. Cool. Not quite cold, but definitely cool. The space next to him has definitely been vacant for a while. He rolls back over, taps his fingertips against the screen of his phone, tilts it up just far enough to check the time. Five-thirty. Still way too early for a Sunday.
He can hear the chickens outside, and the soft tones of someone pottering around the garden, and the impatient chirps of Toaster demanding his breakfast, a solid hour and a half before he’s due to be given it.
It's too early to get up, but he’s not going to go back to sleep. He’ll doze. He’ll just close his eyes for a little longer. Just until the sun swings around. That’s the nice thing about early summer, the angle of the sun in the bedroom, and the natural alarm clock of the light and warmth around seven in the morning.
He’ll just have a little doze. It’ll be fine. He’s had his big sleep. It’ll be fine.
He’s got time. He’s got all the fucking time in the world. It’ll be fine.
Ed blinks awake with the dip in the mattress, turning instinctively to curl into Stede’s side where he’s sliding back in next to him. He buries his face in Stede’s neck, hooks his knee over Stede’s thigh and takes a deep breath. The sun has moved more than he expected, casting warm beams across the duvet, and Stede smells of summery morning dew, all sweet and cool and earthy.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of Ed’s head.
“Wasn’t asleep,” Ed says, nosing gently behind Stede’s ear.
“No?” Stede teases. “It wasn’t you snoring the house down?”
“Ghost,” Ed says.
“Ghost?”
“Mmhm.”
“Well,” Stede says softly. “I hope they’re friendly. Not sure I want to share my home with a malevolent spirit.”
“They’re just sleepy.”
“They’re not the only ones.”
“You were up early.”
“Ah, the sun got me.”
“Woke up and you weren’t here. I missed you,” Ed whines, sinking his teeth gently into the soft skin where Stede’s neck meets his shoulder. “You smell all outsidey. It’s nice.”
“I got all the morning garden chores done," Stede murmurs. "I fed the girls, and Mr Toaster. Topped up your honesty box. Saved the best eggs for breakfast. We'll poach them, maybe. With some of that leftover sourdough.”
“Mmm,” Ed hums, sucking gently.
“And I got you a present.”
“Yeah?” Ed asks, kissing slowly back up Stede’s neck and giggling every time he squirms at the sensation.
“Strawberries,” Stede whispers, all pleased and proud and completely unable to keep the excitement from his voice.
“Fuck off,” Ed says, abandoning his post under Stede’s jaw and leaning up on his elbow.
“Shan’t,” Stede grins, leaning over to take a bowl from the nightstand.
“Fuck off,” Ed breathes.
They’re beautiful. All eight of them, at Ed’s quick count. All bright and perfectly shaped and without a hint of the green Ed’s spent the last week willing to fade. They’re ripe. Finally.
“I gave them a quick rinse, but other than that, they’re direct from plant to bedroom. Lowest food miles in the country.”
“Could be eating them out there.”
“Nowhere near as romantic,” Stede whispers, and well. He’s fucking got Ed there.
“You gonna feed me?” Ed asks, voice low.
Stede nods, eyes darkening, and Ed swallows. Hell yeah. Hell fucking yeah. He shifts up a little, leaning against the headboard and opening his mouth, letting his tongue dart out to meet Stede when he presses the first fruit to Ed’s lips. He bites it as close to the stem as he can, sucking and chewing and letting the sweet, earthy taste flood his tongue.
It’s good. It’s so fucking good. Fuck.
It’s everything last year’s strawberries were. Except this time Stede’s here, and he’s nurtured them, and he’s harvested them, and he’s here, in Ed’s bed, in Ed’s house, feeding them to him on a Sunday morning, and Ed’s so in love he has no idea what to do with himself.
He watches Stede take a bite of a strawberry, watches him suck the juice from the flesh nearest the stem, watches the movement of his jaw as he chews, the bob of his throat as he swallows, watches the smile spread across his face as he hums in approval.
“Oh they’re good, aren’t they?”
Ed nods, takes the bowl out of Stede’s lap, places it safely on the bedside table. Stede makes a small questioning sound in his throat and Ed shakes his head gently, kicking down the thin summer duvet and throwing a leg carefully over Stede’s, shifting until he's settled in his lap. Stede’s smile turns wicked, and he runs his palms up Ed’s bare thighs, thumbs skimming along the hem of his boxers and slipping under, just a little, to press into the warm muscle underneath.
Ed reaches back over to the bowl, takes a single strawberry, and bites off half, offering the rest to Stede and humming low in his throat as Stede pulls the rest of the flesh between his teeth. A tiny rivulet of juice runs down his chin, and Ed leans in to catch it with his tongue, ending his journey with his lips planted firmly on Stede’s.
Stede groans and surges up into the kiss, the fingers of one hand flying up to tangle in Ed’s hair, the other gripping his thigh so hard Ed reckons it’ll bruise. Best kind of bruises, those. The kind he can press on in the shower in three days time, hand on his cock, forehead against the tile.
He can feel Stede, half hard underneath him, and he rolls his hips back a little, grinning at the punched moan the movement knocks out of Stede’s chest.
“Ed,” Stede groans. “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” Ed says, smiling into another kiss, all sweet and sticky. “Reckon that’s where this is headed, love.”
“Oh, you’re a nightma—ohh,” he says, cutting himself off as Ed grinds down again, a little harder.
“I know. You love me.”
“God, I do.”
Ed shuffles back a little, kissing down Stede’s throat and running his tongue over the uneven patches of stubble he encounters. He smells and tastes fucking delicious, all last night’s soap and this morning’s sweat, all earthy and homey and Stedey. He tugs up Stede’s tshirt and helps him pull it over his head, burying his face under Stede’s arm while it's still raised above his head, sinking his teeth into the fat of his underarm and taking a good fucking deep breath.
“You smell fucking amazing,” he murmurs, dragging his lips across Stede's chest and grazing his teeth over his nipple.
“I smell like the garden,” Stede whines, squirming under Ed’s mouth.
“Yeah,” Ed says. “Fucking amazing.”
He continues his path across Stede’s chest and down his breastbone, giggling as Stede rocks his hips up against him, his cock bumping up against Ed’s sternum as he kisses and nips his way down Stede’s stomach. He bites at the swell of his belly where it sits above the band of his underwear, letting Stede grind against his chest, his movements all gentle and instinctual.
He loves when Stede’s like this, when his brain forgets to overthink and his body just does its thing. He loves these soft little rocks of his hips, the way his feet kick out against the mattress when Ed bites and sucks in the right places, and the desperate whines and groans that he has no idea he’s making.
He loves knowing all these things about Stede. Loves the practised familiarity every time they fuck, all the little tricks and tips they know about each other’s bodies now. He presses a kiss under Stede’s navel, right in the trail of hair that leads to his cock, and shuffles down the bed a little further so he can press his face to his prize.
“Ed,” Stede moans, fingers tangling under Ed’s bun.
Ed breathes him in, all the sweat musk and fabric softener and moisturiser. He mouths at the shape of Stede’s cock through the cotton, laughing softly as Stede swears above him, his knee kicking out as Ed nuzzles at his groin.
“Ed, your mouth.”
“Want me to suck you?” Ed asks, tucking his fingertips under Stede’s waistband and slowly pulling down his boxer briefs.
Stede grunts and nods, huffing out a soft please. Ed rolls to the side and lets him kick off his underwear, shedding his own and losing his shirt. He runs his hands up Stede’s shins, spreading his legs gently and settling between them, kissing along the insides of Stede’s thighs and watching the muscle quiver under his touch.
“Fuck,” he moans. “I love it when you’re a bit grubby. Fucking hell, Stede.”
Stede rocks his hips and moans, and Ed takes the opportunity to run his tongue along the underside of Stede’s cock, swirling around the head and taking the entire length in one hit, pausing only when his forehead is resting against the swell of Stede’s belly. He flattens his tongue and bobs his head a few times, brushing a dry thumb against Stede’s hole and revelling at the deeply horny yelp that Stede lets out.
“Do not tease me, Ed.”
Ed shrugs, reaching up and opening and closing his palm a few times, signalling what he hopes is the internationally understood gesture for hand me the lube then. Stede, thankfully, is completely fluent in Ed at this point, and after a moment of fumbling a bottle is pressed into Ed’s waiting hand. The good lube, the stuff with the pump cap that literally never gets clogged. Miracle shit, Ed’s gonna be devastated if they ever stop making it.
In a fucking impressive display of dexterity, he manages to coat his first two fingers without his mouth leaving Stede’s cock, and when he swallows, right as he presses in to his second knuckles, the moan Stede lets out almost has him coming right there and then, dick grinding against the bunched up duvet.
“Jesus Christ, Ed, oh my fucking God,” Stede babbles, his entire body writhing with pleasure, legs shaking. He’s gonna come fast, Ed can tell. He’s spilling a little already over Ed’s tongue, the thin, pre-come stuff that Stede always seems to produce buckets of when he’s right on the edge.
Ed curls his fingers and relaxes his throat, and God, he wants to fuck Stede so badly, same way he does every time they start like this. He wants to feel the way Stede’s orgasm tears through him from the inside, wants to sink into him, press flush to his body and feel the press of Stede’s thighs around his hips as he fucks into him, but it’s all happening so fucking fast. Too fucking fast for Ed to orchestrate that kind of finale. Stede’s back is arching off the bed, Ed’s had to throw his forearm across his stomach to stop him bucking down Ed’s throat, and he's clenching around Ed's fingers like he's trying to break them. It's like a cacophony of sensation and Ed’s brain and body are fizzing with the combination of adrenaline and arousal. Fuck, Stede might be on the absolute imminent brink of climax, but Ed feels like he’s going to be following with almost embarrassing speed, the bedding underneath him creating the perfect friction against his cock, already slightly damp where he’s been grinding pre-come into the sheets.
“Ed,” Stede moans, the first in a series of increasingly desperate iterations of Ed’s name, the sound of each one like fucking poetry to Ed’s ears. Stede’s body tenses like a bowstring, arching as far off the mattress as Ed’s pinning will allow, and he stills, spilling across Ed’s tongue and squeezing vice like around his fingers.
Ed breathes through his nose and takes everything Stede gives him, eyes closed so he can focus on the more important senses. The sound and taste and smell of Stede. It's overwhelming, in the best fucking way.
“Fuck me,” Stede moans, still grinding up into Ed’s mouth and fisting his hand in the hair at the crown of Ed’s head. “Ed, I want you—inside—put it in—you gotta fuck me, shit.”
Ed pulls off Stede’s cock, running his tongue along his bottom lip and swallowing. He rests his temple against Stede’s thigh and takes a breath.
“You just came, love.”
“Don’t care,” Stede says, tucking a hand under one of his thighs and lifting his leg to expose himself, like Ed hasn’t just spent the last twenty minutes at eye level with the entire area. “You feel so fucking good, even after.”
“You’re massively overestimating how long I’m gonna last,” Ed warns, already pulling himself to his knees and shuffling into place. If he's learnt anything over the last six months, it's that what Stede wants in bed, he usually fucking gets. And Ed loves being the one to make it happen. Loves being the person giving Stede every single thing that will make him happy. He feels around for the lube, pumping a line along his cock and hissing at the sensation on his overstimulated skin.
“Again, don’t care,” Stede says, closing his eyes in anticipation. “You feel so good, I don’t care how long it lasts.”
Ed squeezes the base of his cock, pressing the tip up against where Stede is still slick and open from his fingers. “You ready?”
“So ready,” Stede slurs.
Ed presses in, and he presses in, and he presses in, all small, incremental movements. Stede’s like a fucking furnace inside, all delicious tight heat, and Ed’s gonna be lucky if he gets more than a few thrusts in at this rate, because he can already feel his orgasm building in the base of his spine, pleasure roaring up and down his thighs. Stede’s thrown his head back, displaying the line of his throat, and Ed’s hips snap forward instinctively as he leans down to kiss him, resisting the urge to suck a bruise into the underside of his jaw. Stede’s fingernails bite at his shoulders, and Ed’s fucked so many people in his lifetime, too many people maybe, and yet none of his previous experiences hold a fucking candle to how good it feels with Stede, every single time they fuck. Every kitchen blowie and every handjob in the shower and every time they’ve dry humped to completion, still half dressed on the couch in the nook.
It’s always so fucking good with Stede, and Ed’s just so fucking thankful for perseverence, and patience, and time, and the fact that Stede came back, and he came back, and eventually, he just fucking stayed.
He stayed, and he stayed, and he stayed, and he’s here now, and the amount of love Ed carries around with him on a daily basis sometimes feels impossible. That no one person could contain that much love for another. That no one person could possibly feel as loved as Ed does on a daily basis.
“I love you so fucking much,” Stede murmurs, right in his ear, like he can read Ed’s thoughts, and the sound that leaves Ed as he comes falls somewhere between a sob and a sigh, emotion flooding through his body as his orgasm peaks and crashes over him. He mouths aimlessly at Stede’s throat as he rides out the feeling, letting his body take over until his movements come to a natural stop and the roar of white noise in his ears fades, summer birdsong gradually taking over again.
“I love you,” he says quietly, closing his eyes and lowering himself down carefully into Stede’s waiting embrace, letting his heart calm and his breathing slow to its normal pace. "I love you."
Minutes pass, but it could be hours for all Ed's counting. Stede trails his fingers up and down Ed’s spine, and the breeze rolls across Ed’s back, cooling the sweat sitting on his skin, and Ed feels so fucking content he could cry. There are so many elements of his life that bring him peace now, so many ways he’s learnt to settle the thoughts that race around his head most of the time, but this is one of his favourites. Laying with Stede in the morning sun, sharing sweet, lazy, post-coital kisses and letting every thought drift aimlessly through his own consciousness, like dandelions on the breeze, pleasantly out of reach.
Stede’s fingers dance across his skin, and the curtains float in the breeze, and Ed’s so fucking relaxed that it’s jarring when he shifts slightly, the hair on his stomach pulling where it’s sticking to Stede’s skin, and he’s hit with the realisation of just how much post-sex clean up there is left to do.
He’s gone fully soft now, and there’s something so immeasurably displeasing about the wet smack as he pulls out and rolls onto his back, dick resting against his thigh. He wipes himself down with his discarded tshirt as a temporary fix, and shimmies up to lay beside Stede, tucking himself close enough that they’re sharing a pillow. He turns Stede’s head gently with his fingertips, manoeuvring him around so Ed can press a series of sweet, short kisses to his temple, his cheek, and his mouth while Stede grins dopily through the whole ordeal.
“We’re going to be late if we don’t get up,” Stede says, rolling onto his side and raising an eyebrow at Ed. “Especially now we’re going to need separate showers.”
Ed frowns. He loves Stede, but he's such a fucking buzzkill sometimes. “Don’t care if we’re late. The less time I have to spend with groomzilla, the better,” he says, receiving a slap to the arm for his trouble.
“Don’t be mean.”
“Lucius is the mean one. My suit fits fine, my speech is done, we’ve already got the rings, and I’m picking up the cake on Wednesday. I have everything under control and he’s convinced I’m going to fuck something up. He’s mean, Stede. Mean.”
Ed’s first and absolute fucking last outing as a best man. Never done it before, will definitely not be doing it again. There’s not a human being on Earth he loves enough to go through this again with.
“He’s in love,” Stede says softly, like that explains the mild torture Ed has spent the last few months being subjected to. Ed’s in love, and he’s not an arse about it. Most of the time. “He’s in love, and I expect he’s planning on this being the only wedding he has, and he wants it to be perfect. He’s only mean because he’s excited. It’s nice, in a way.”
“It’s nice for you because you don’t get yelled at. You just get to just sit around all pretty and watch me get yelled at.”
“You pull a very sweet face when you’re being scolded, darling. Makes me want to kiss it off you.”
He does kiss it off Ed’s face. And other places. And yeah, maybe it does make the yelling a little bit worth it.
“It’s nice that he cares so much,” he continues, brushing Ed’s hair behind his ear. “God, I dreaded my wedding. Absolutely dreaded it, for weeks and weeks beforehand. From the moment a date was set. I had no idea that you were supposed to be excited, that the nerves as everything got closer and more concrete were supposed to be good butterflies, not sicky ones.”
He kisses Ed softly. “It’s nice to see him a little unfluffed, a little anxious. Bodes well for them, I think.”
“Suppose,” Ed says. It’s the most Stede’s ever really said about his wedding, or his marriage. Not that it’s a verboten topic, Ed would never let it become one of those, but it’s one that he tends to keep away from, unless Stede brings it up himself.
Brave, Ed thinks. He’s being really fucking brave, sharing this little tidbit of before with Ed. Especially now, all naked and vulnerable like this, inhibitions all lowered.
“Would you do it again?” Ed asks, summoning his own little dose of courage and distracting himself by running his fingers through the damp hair at the base of Stede’s neck.
Stede hums in question, closing his eyes and leaning into Ed’s touch.
“Get married,” Ed says, willing his heart to slow a little. “Would you get married again?”
“Oh,” Stede says softly, rolling onto his back. “It’s strange, really.”
Ed waits him out, placing his hand over Stede’s where it’s resting on his belly, drawing patterns with his fingertips, letting his nails graze the skin on every few passes.
“I don’t think I’d consider it an again, if I got married.” He pauses. “Before—it wasn’t—I always wanted to marry for love, all these grand romantic ideas as a child about marrying your one true love, living happily ever after. I believed that that was how it worked, that marriage was the grand gesture that followed falling in love with your person. But then there was no love in my marriage, not romantic or otherwise. It just…was. And I thought that was the reality of it. That my childhood understanding was just that. A childish fantasy.”
Ed presses a kiss to his shoulder. He’s being so fucking brave. Ed loves him so much.
“But now, I think it would be nice, to marry for love. I wouldn’t mind that at all.”
“Okay,” Ed says softly, voice barely above a whisper.
“Okay?” Stede asks, and Ed can hear his smile forming, knows exactly which type of stupid besotted grin he’s wearing.
Because Ed knows he’s wearing a matching one.
“Okay,” he repeats, a little firmer this time, squeezing Stede’s hand.
“Okay,” Stede whispers.
It’s not a proposal. It’s definitely not a proposal. Lucius would kill them. Straight up, cold blood murder. He’d smell an engagement on them from a mile off, and they’d be dead the moment they stepped foot on the driveway. It’s absolutely, definitely not a proposal.
But it’s something Stede thinks would be nice. It’s something he wouldn’t mind.
Ed hums softly, and he kisses Stede’s shoulder, his skin cool against Ed’s lips, and he takes a slow, deep breath. In and out. In through his nose, out oh-so-slowly through his mouth.
The birds whistle and sing outside, and the chickens fuss around their pen, and Toaster’s bell jingles softly as he jumps off a fencepost.
Ed’s world has shifted on its axis, only a little, but enough to adjust his entire life’s trajectory. And yet everything has stayed as it is. All his constants have kept on going.
The gentle buzz of Ed’s phone on the nightstand, and the rustle of the breeze through the trees. The rise and fall of Stede’s chest as he breathes, and the steady beating of Ed’s heart.
The unrelenting constancy of life, and perhaps more importantly, love.
Ed runs his thumb slowly over Stede’s ring finger, right behind his knuckle, and it wasn't an engagement, wasn't even really a proposal, but he doesn’t think he’d mind it either, marrying for love.
In fact, he reckons he really wouldn’t mind that at all.