Work Text:
Ed sucked in his tummy again, straightened up and held his breath. He pulled the jeans as far closed as they’d go and he still couldn’t quite get them far enough to slip the button into the hole.
He knew he should have put them on before he’d had breakfast, but he’d woken up to a text from Stede, I ordered you breakfast! and the knock on his door had come five minutes later; a delivery man with a box of sugar-coated waffles, a container with two scoops of fudge brownie ice cream and a little tub of melted chocolate in a bag. An eyebrow had been raised at Ed’s state of dishevelment, and Ed had ignored it and thanked the man. Ed couldn’t stand to wait long enough to get dressed when it smelt that good. He also probably hadn’t needed to finish the third one, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself.
He lowered himself to the ground, lying down on the rug and wiggling his hips as he pulled the pants higher. Again he held his breath, sucked in his tummy, and yanked the fabric mercilessly. Finally, finally, the jeans closed.
Ed stood up, triumphant, and leant over to grab his tea from the coffee table. The waistband was digging hard into his belly, the pressure in his stomach painful. He moaned, and then he startled slightly when the sound was interrupted by a burp he hadn’t been expecting.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Ed muttered, taking a sip of tea, his other hand running over the curve of his belly. He lowered himself carefully into the new sofa with a grunt, settling into the cushions. In a brief moment, the tension bled out of him.
There was a sudden snap, and a quick sound that Ed, for a moment, mistook for the rip of fabric—it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d heard one this month—but realised quickly had been his zipper, and Ed could breathe again. The button had popped off and was spinning on the wood beyond the rug. His belly had pushed the zipper down and fallen forward into his lap, maybe an inch of it resting on his thighs.
“Fuck.”
This was an awkward time for a boner, and Ed crossed his legs and tried to ignore it at much as he could as he fumbled to grab his phone from the coffee table, flicking through the contacts.
The call to Stede rang once. “Ed?” Ed could hear the smile in Stede’s voice.
“Hey Stede,” Ed muttered, nervous.
“Hello!” Stede sing-songed. There was tense silence, Ed too nervous to ask for what he needed. “Would you like something?” Stede asked. Bless that man who paid Ed’s rent and utilities and medical bills and bought Ed his meals and transportation and furniture and—
“God, Stede, I’m sorry,” Ed breathed. “Uh, the, um. The pants.”
“Did they break again? Goodness, Ed, I think maybe I should get you a different sort this time, those jeans are obviously very poorly made. Is this the… third time this week? Should I get another pair the same? Or do you want to try something that might be a little better. My tailor—”
“Stede,” Ed interrupted.
“Yes, Ed?” Stede asked innocently. There was a moment of silence as Ed tried to convince himself to admit this.
“I think I need a bigger size.”
The moment of silence from the other end made Ed’s heart hammer all the way up to his throat. Ed wondered if Stede thought it was unpleasant, disgusting, or if he was disappointed or if he was angry at Ed for repaying his kindness with… with getting fat instead of staying pretty or—
“Oh,” Stede breathed on the other end of the line, and that tone of voice… low, close, reminded Ed’s dick to jump back from half-soft to painfully hard. “I… one size, or—”
“Yeah!” Ed squeaked (squeaked!) “Yeah, that’s good! Thanks Stede. Um, you can bring them later, yeah? I’ll… be here. Like always.”
He hung up before Stede could say anything more.
Since he’d met Stede, Ed had been getting softer around the middle by the day it felt like. Sure, the fact he wasn no longer walking to work every day meant he was in a lot less pain where his joints were concerned, but… the fact he was no longer walking anywhere, combined with having almost every meal (usually too much to even finish) delivered to his door, and offered private transportation whenever he wanted to get out… was just piling onto his waist, his thighs, his everything.
He wondered what Stede got out of the whole thing. They weren’t even fucking. In fact, Stede never asked for anything in return. The sheer generosity made Ed horribly nervous. He felt like he was missing something. Maybe Stede just got a kick out of treating Ed like a spoiled favourite pet. But the guy really didn’t seem that possessive. He was just sort of… nice. They didn’t even kiss. And Ed wanted to, desperately.
He opened his messages with Stede, and saw the other man typing, pausing, typing, pausing. Here it comes, Ed thought. The inevitable ‘it’s me, not you’. The short sharp buzz of the text coming through lingered in Ed’s fingertips for a moment.
Stede Bonnet [10:12 am]
Should I order you lunch?
Ed didn’t understand that man. You take on the expense of a sugar baby, and all you get in return is him getting fat. Why was Stede still paying for Ed’s whole life? What on earth could he possibly be getting out of it?
Ed Teach [10:13 am]
sounds great mate, yeah
---
Ed shifted awkwardly in his track pants. They clung tighter to him than they were meant to, designed to be just loose enough to hide the contours of his legs, instead pulling around his thighs, elastic about the waist accentuating the padding of his hips by digging in, softness pooching out above it. He tried to hide that and the curve of his belly that softly stuck out over the waistband by pulling them higher, but they kept sliding back down.
The jeans had been the biggest pants he’d owned and he couldn’t even pretend he’d be able to manage to close any of the other pairs he had, but it was still embarrassingly obvious they were too small. Or, more accurately, that he was too big for them. They used to fit him perfectly. What happened?
He really wished, as his phone buzzed—that’d be the text from Stede saying almost there! that he sent every time he came over—that he had owned a looser or longer shirt, that at least might have hidden the weight that the track pants called to attention. But the best he could do was a shirt that clung to his belly, shadow of his navel visible through the fabric. It was the only one that wouldn’t slide up to show the little handfuls of pudge at his hips when he sat.
What was Stede going to think of him like this? Of course, it hadn’t been long since Stede had last seen him, just a few days when he’d delivered the new jeans that were now broken. Ed had been kidding himself, asking Stede to buy the same pair again. They’d been far too small when Stede had given them to him, and only now was Ed able to admit to himself his belly was just too big for them now.
The doorbell chimed and Ed leapt towards it, opening it so he didn’t spend too long sitting there worrying about what Stede might notice about his body, didn’t make Stede worry about why he was taking so long to answer while he panicked. It had happened the other day, it wasn’t going to happen again.
When Stede saw Ed, his eyes visibly raked up and down Ed’s body, and Ed, though nervous, at least knew enough to recognise more attraction than anything else in Stede’s expression. Stede had always looked at Ed like that, and the look had only gotten stronger. But for some maddening reason, Stede never vocalised his desire. It was driving Ed insane. But Ed wasn’t blind, and Stede was as subtle as an elephant in a china shop, he was biting his lip for Christ’s sake.
“Ed,” Stede gasped like he’d been holding his breath.
Stede was holding more than one bag, and anxiety turned in Ed’s tummy. Ed had thought Stede probably wouldn’t do it this time, what with the attention Ed had called to the fact he’d been putting on a few recently. But it seemed… well, Stede had this habit of—
“I brought you a few things from the bakery downstairs! To cheer you up about the, uh. Your— the— your, uh— the pants thing.” Stede’s cheeks were pink.
“You got me cake. To cheer me up about being fat,” Ed said, feeling his amusement playing at his expression.
Stede, however, did not seem to notice Ed’s smile. He winced, and in his eyes there was this watery, tortured look that came over him every now and again. Ed wondered what that was about. “You’re not fat, you’re… Ed! I… oh, I’m sorry,” Stede whispered.
Ed grinned. “Don’t be sorry, Stede. Jesus. It’s as if you’re not paying for me to be alive right now! If anything I should be sorry for being a burden. I mean, you give me… everything, basically. And what do I give you?” Ed leant in a little, wetting his lips as if he expected Stede to admit he wanted to fuck Ed stupid. But of course, that was wishful thinking.
“I don’t need anything for that, Ed. It’s my pleasure, really. Just… these little moments, you know?”
Ed’s heart twisted, but in a good way. Wasn’t fair that Stede could just make him feel like that.
“But I don’t want you to feel…” Stede muttered. “You don’t have to eat what I… I mean… it was foolish of me. I… I don’t mean to… I did this to you, I… I…”
“Did what, Stede? Come on, I’m hungry,” Ed tried to pull Stede out of his little mood. He hadn’t seen Stede quite like this before. A few little mutterings of randomly allocated self-blame here and there, but… never about Ed.
Stede brightened again, his smile back, his eyes kind again instead of… whatever that was. Scared? Sad?
Stede didn’t mention the jeans, he just put the bag down on the kitchen bench, and set about going to the trouble of transferring desserts from their little containers onto crockery. He always did this. Ed thought it was adorable, but he did find the somewhat pointless creation of washing up a little frustrating. Not enough to outweigh how oddly cute it was, though. And watching the little stack of empty plates pile up did make him feel something, even if he didn’t know what or why.
Stede piled the little plates onto a tray, and carried them over to the coffee table where Ed was sitting on the couch Stede had bought him last week. He felt like he’d already made a divet in the padding from sitting in it so often. Stede was stiff sitting next to him, careful to leave enough space to prevent them from brushing each other as he took a seat.
“Have you had dinner?” Stede asked.
“Yeah,” Ed said, shifting a little, uncomfortably. He’d had dinner. He’d had loads of dinner. Leftovers from all the times Stede had bought him food and he’d stuffed as much of it as he could manage into his belly and had to put the rest away. All kinds of random mismatched food piled onto a plate and stuck in the microwave and then wolfed down as if he were starving, though it had only been a few hours since he’d had lunch.
He’d had more dinner than he needed, and even though he knew Stede wouldn’t, he half expected the other man to tell him he didn’t deserve the pastries he’d brought him, because he’d already eaten, it was too much. Instead, Stede just blinked, evidently having noticed Ed’s frown.
“Did you have enough to eat?” Stede asked.
“Definitely,” Ed said. “Fuckin’ stuffed. Hardly gonna be able to move with all this in me too.” He gestured to the pastries on the plates with a hand on his belly for emphasis.
Stede’s face was deeply flushed, and he licked his lips as they parted, his eyes gazing into Ed’s unfalteringly—except, no, they flicked down, but not down as far as Ed expected. What was he…
Stede was silent for a moment, except for a brief noise from his throat that Ed might have even imagined. Stede blinked and looked away.
“Maybe you should… pace yourself,” Stede whispered. His hand moved towards Ed’s middle for a moment, but stopped. Ed wondered what his intention had been before he’d pulled away.
Ed frowned. Maybe admitting his gluttony had not been the right thing to do. But God, what was the secret? There must have been something he could do to get Stede to want him back! Was he too lower-class? Was he not good enough for Stede, is that why Stede was ignoring the electricity in the air between them?
“Pace myself? Fuck off,” Ed said. He grabbed the nearest thing and stuffed it into his mouth. It didn’t all fit, and as he bit down into the stupidly large cream-filled pastry, the remainer started to fall precariously out of his mouth, his hands busy attempting to grab something else to shove in after it. He hummed a sharp sound in alarm as he noticed it falling.
Stede squeaked. His hand jolted out and he caught the pastry as it fell. But rather than holding it in his hand or putting it back onto the plate, he caught it between his hand and Ed’s lips.
Ed swallowed twice to get his mouthful down, staring directly into Stede’s eyes. Stede stared back. All Ed could hear was Stede breathing and all he could see was the flush on Stede’s cheeks that kept returning each time it faded away. How could he blush like that, so easily? Ed wanted Stede to grab him, rough, hard. But Stede was frozen, like a deer caught in headlights, with his wide shiny eyes appearing almost to search for something in Ed’s, hand still pressing the creamy pastry to Ed’s lips.
Ed opened his mouth, leaning into Stede’s hand and taking the remaining pastry whole. His tongue caught a lick of Stede’s fingers, half by accident and half on a wild whim, as he tried to catch the cream that almost spilled out. When it happened Ed heard Stede inhale sharply, but the other man still did not pull away from Ed’s face. His fingers lingered, feather-light over Ed’s cream-smeared mouth while Ed chewed, still staring into Ed’s eyes.
Stede looked mesmerised, entranced. Still barely touching, his fingers trailed down Ed’s chin, under it, over a little bit of softness that couldn’t yet be seen but could be felt, fingertips settling at Ed’s throat as he swallowed. Ed watched Stede’s pupils get even wider, knowing Stede had felt the swallow, wondering what that meant to him, why Stede was acting like this.
Suddenly, Stede’s hand moved up, back to Ed’s mouth, thumb swiping across the smears of cream. Ed’s lips parted ready to take Stede’s thumb in his mouth. In an instant Stede’s thumb was pressing Ed’s tongue down, Stede wiping the cream off onto it and holding Ed silent, fingers caressing his cheek and then nails digging into Ed’s jaw, perfect perfect perfect— Ed cursed his body and it’s ill-timing, but he was unable to contain a burp before it escaped his open mouth, loud.
Whatever this had been, Ed felt like he’d been waiting his whole life for it. And then Stede pulled back like Ed had burnt him.
“I’m sorry,” Stede said as he stood, so quick he swayed a little and blinked rapidly, gaze snapping to the door. Ed could feel heat in his own cheeks and he wondered if he was as visibly pink as Stede. It was exhausting feeling like Stede might have wanted him but he erred on the cusp of simply not being good enough. Why didn’t Stede respond to Ed’s flirting? But then of course, Ed had been gross just now. And that seemed to have been the final straw for Stede.
“I’m sorry,” Stede said again. “I shouldn’t have touched, I… I didn’t mean… I’m sorry, I’m not— I can’t—”
And Stede rushed for the door and was gone between that moment and the next.
Oh, Ed just had to ruin that by being disgusting, didn’t he? He hadn’t meant to. Stede had looked… pained. Maybe frightened. Perhaps that was just the way disgust looked on Stede’s face. Either way it hurt.
Ed felt like this was his fault, certainly, but he was also fucking angry. Fucking angry at fucking Stede. What the fuck was that? It was almost like Stede was playing with Ed’s feelings on purpose!
From that first time when Ed had been blunt, Usually guys like you giving guys like me all this stuff get something back for it. I’m talking about sex, if that wasn’t clear. (And Stede’s look up and down Ed’s body and then Oh, well… I hardly think that necessary, do you? ) Ed had thought at the time Stede meant well. Even though the fact Stede looked before he said no made Ed feel inadequate.
Now he was scared Stede had been fucking with him the whole time, even though he didn’t seem like that kind of guy. But then, Stede was often caught up in himself. Sometimes borderline selfishly. Many of the stories he told had an angle where it occurred to Ed that Stede likely should have considered the other people involved, though it didn’t seem to have occurred to him, and Ed never said anything or thought much about it other than it being sort of cute, inexplicably, until now.
Now he just thought that fuck Stede was an idiot. Ed couldn’t have made it clearer how he felt and Stede just… decided whether or not to play into those feelings on his whims, as it turned out. At this point it hurt too much. More than when Stede had grabbed Ed’s hand at a jumpscare at the theatre weeks ago and forgot to let go until they walked into the parking lot and Stede’s driver gave them a look as they stepped into the car, attached.
Sorry, Stede had said, letting go. Don’t worry about it, man. And, uh… just in case you forgot. For the record. Um… (Ed thought for a moment about the type of language Stede usually used. How to make this very blunt offer as palatable for someone… slightly prudish—he didn’t mean to be rude, even in his own head, but it was true—as possible) Intimacy… is still… we could still… mate, if you… and Stede had had the car stop, gotten out. I might walk home. Lucius, you’ll take Ed back, won’t you?
Ed had asked the driver if he thought he had a chance with Stede. The driver had scoffed, rolled his eyes, and said. That guy? He’s got so many hang-ups about sex I’m not even sure he knows how to have it. Good luck, though. Rooting for you.
And at first it hadn’t been that complicated, Ed had only wanted the guy to stop being so fucking polite and bend him over the brand new desk he’d bought him and rearrange his insides. Now though, Ed wanted Stede as much as he wanted Stede’s cock, and the weird penchant of Stede’s to do something that made Ed feel like finally it was happening only for Stede to interrupt the moment with a hard pass was starting to feel genuinely hurtful to Ed. He wondered if Stede could even understand that if he tried.
It wasn’t like Ed was usually this fucking miserable and mopey, this in-his-own-head. Sometimes, though, the feeling struck.
When his throat went tight and his eyes went warm, he didn’t even know why he was crying. He pulled off the track pants and he pulled the tray of Stede’s offered desserts towards himself, trying not to think about how expensive he knew these pastries from the bakery downstairs were. And there were four of them left in front of him.
There was a clash within him about Stede, contradictory thoughts that battled but never came to a definite conclusion. Anger at Stede for being so… lovable, making it impossible for Ed not to want him, and then not wanting Ed. Anger at himself for not being good enough to be wanted, for wanting that in the first place. It culminated in this confused, miserable emptiness inside of him.
Emptiness was okay. Emptiness was something you could fill. And Ed was good at that. Good at filling the hole in his chest by stuffing food into his stomach until that became all he could feel.
He was already full. Dinner and that bun, he could feel the heaviness inside of him, the pleasant sleepy settling of food in his belly. He choked down a whimper by shoving a custard tart into his mouth, and another with a bun slathered in sticky white frosting.
He ate until the plates were devoid of every crumb. Fast in the beginning, fading to slow, languid. He moaned with the feeling of it, whined, panted, slumped into the cushions. Blissfully distracting, to be sure, but also so tight it hurt, spikes of pain through his belly. He dug the heel of his palm into the crest of it, the point where, stuffed beyond reason, shirt pulling around it, his stomach protruded from under his ribs, warm and tight-packed so it was firm to the touch.
He hissed at first as he pressed his hand into the tightly stretched flesh, the pain spiking. But his belly seemed to ease under his fingers just a little as he carefully pressed, rocking his hand a little. He dug his fingers in, moaning at the feeling of how fucking full he was, moan turning to a burp that epitomised satisfaction.
He struggled not to jostle it as he pulled his shirt off, stared at it bare, a few stretch marks up his hips and beneath his bellybutton. He was so fucking… so fucking full, with custard and cream, sugar and bread and everything in between.
He looked down at his own stomach, glutted almost rounded. Big, bigger than he’d known it were possible to make it, even as greedy as he admitted he was. Belly so bloated it brushed his thighs even as he sat reclined into the back of the chair. So full if he leant back a little more, breathed in, he could only just see the head of his aching-hard cock past his belly.
He pressed his hand down again, pushing a little, and panted and groaned as he hefted himself a little straighter up. The louder, longer burp this jostled out of him faded to a sated groan as he ran his hands up and down the swell of his middle. “Fuuuuck me,” Ed breathed, looking down again at the effect the bloating had combined with his new belly, his middle his centre of gravity. He wanted to say it again, he wanted to believe it. “I’m fat. ”
The thought made him squirm. His dick hurt, it needed pressure or it’d fucking fall off.
It was difficult even to half-heartedly begin to stand, so full he couldn’t move, so full his forearm pressed awkwardly into the base of his belly as he attempted to jerk himself off to the feeling.
---
Stede felt absolutely, horrendously, horribly fucking terrible. He was always crossing lines with Ed, touching and then catching that glint of something desperate in Ed’s eye, something that was probably discomfort, fear.
There was an ache in Stede’s chest over the fact he wanted Ed as much as he did, when that wouldn’t be fair. Ed had made it clear that he would be willing to give his body in exchange for Stede’s doting. Every time Stede got close to it, it felt like fire and perfection before he remembered and ice ate him up inside.
Surely, if Stede ever did anything with Ed, it would be Stede’s own filthy desires getting the better of him. Stede knew that Ed wouldn’t say no, but he was completely certain the only reason Ed would allow it—in this terrifying hypothetical world where Stede gave in to the urge—was because he felt he couldn’t say no. After what Stede gave him.
Stede didn’t want to get the taint of himself on Ed. He didn’t want to drag Ed into it. But the worst part being, he already was.
Fat, Ed had said. Being fat. No, Stede thought. In the grand scheme of things, when one considered just what fat could mean, Ed was rather small. But yes, it was true Ed was chubby. It was true he hadn’t been when Stede had met him. It was true that Stede had seen pants that had used to slip down as Ed walked get so tight they’d torn a little down the seams.
And it was equally true that that was the result of Stede’s filthy desires, forced upon Ed without his knowledge! Oh, Stede was terrible. And he hated it. He hated himself for it.
It hadn’t even been that long since Stede had last seen Ed when today he’d gotten the call, and Ed had admitted he needed to go a size up. Told Stede he’d broken his pants again. As much as Stede’s dick went half-hard as Ed told him that, Stede also felt a horrible guilt weighing on his mind. A guilt Stede had ignored when he’d listened to the wily whims of his stupid fucking dick and felt that smooth arousal in his gut as he collected a hefty bag of sugary treats for Ed to eat.
That same arousal that coiled hot within him when he added just one more thing that became just two more things that became what could double the order hurt? when he ordered Ed breakfast, or lunch, or dinner, and squirmed at the thought of Ed eating at all.
The same feeling that became unbearable, when Ed would text him later, god, thanks, i’m fucking stuffed :) like that was something you could just say, or when he’d sometimes—scandalously, Stede thought, though he knew that interpretation was the flawed result of his… whatever this disorder, this sexual deviance was—send Stede pictures of the empty containers. All of them. Licked clean. And then Stede would muffle his sounds with his duvet in his mouth (not because there was anyone around to hear, but just because he was fucking ashamed of himself for doing it) and tug and palm clumsily at his cock until he’d made a mess of himself. Just thinking about Ed that fucking full, dozy and sated.
He hadn’t even known he’d liked this. Hadn’t known he was obsessed, not until… until Ed had begun to demonstrate his hearty appetite on their little hang-outs, and the things he’d say—
Like today, God, today, chubby and satisfied, Fuckin’ stuffed. Hardly gonna be able to move with all this in me too. Stede had thought his heart would explode if his cock didn’t first, though Ed had mercifully seemed to notice neither predicament. And then he’d made a monster of himself. Touched Ed when Ed didn’t want it, fed Ed when Ed had already expressed his dissatisfaction at Stede having made him fat.
Back home now and knowing he was the scum of the earth, Stede made himself cry his hard-on away, never daring to allow himself a scrap of selfish pleasure. He did not deserve it.
---
Ed woke up to the most depressing text message he’d ever seen.
Stede Bonnet [5:07 am]
I’m really sorry. It shouldn’t be like this. I’ll send you the login for the delivery app. My credit card is attached to the account. You can order your own meals whenever you like, pick for yourself and such. It might be better if we saw each other less.
Stede Bonnet [7:19 am]
But if you wanted to catch up tonight.
That would be fine.
Fine? Fine? I hate you now, but it would be acceptable if you wanted to see me. That’s what all that translated to in Ed’s head.
Ed Teach [9:32 am]
maybe next week would be better
Ed watched Stede type, stop, type, stop. Something he’d once thought of in fond amusement. Needed to get the right words, Stede. Otherwise, he was a stammering mess. Now it just felt cruel.
Ed pulled a bottle of soda that’d come with pizza one time he’d never drunk out of the pantry. He settled himself onto the sofa, drinking long from the plastic bottle, feeling the burp come up and pushing it out loud into the silence. Stede really didn’t like that, huh? That’d really turned him off? Ed didn’t give a fuck if he was a slob. Stede could get fucked.
That being said, Ed logged into the delivery app with Stede’s details all the same. Fuck you, Stede Bonnet, he thought as he spent nearly a hundred of Stede’s stupid fucking dollars on multiple servings of spaghetti and garlic bread, and a whole fucking cheesecake. I’ll be the mess you hate, and then you can stop being a cruel fucking tease and leave me the fuck alone.
By the end of the day, Ed thought he was gonna fucking die, and he couldn’t fucking move. His elastic underwear was too much pressure on his belly. The hiccups felt like a stab through the gut. The burps weren’t enough to relieve it. The carbonation and the food had rounded him out like he couldn’t fucking believe. He couldn’t breathe. He hated the churning sensation, the angry strained gurgles, the thin burps that didn’t relieve a thing.
All in all it felt a lot better than obsessing over how Stede had lost interest after all like he’d sworn he never would.
---
All week the notifications had been driving Stede crazy. Beyond making him hate himself for how hot it was, Stede was almost in awe at how… hungry Ed had been lately. Surely he must have been having friends or acquaintances around—Stede felt even worse at the spike of jealousy that gave him that he had absolutely no right to—because the notifications of Ed’s food orders the whole week, the ones he’d been doing himself…
It was just so much bloody food! Stede couldn’t even imagine it was possible Ed was finishing it. Maybe, at a stretch, getting close. But thinking about it made Stede so hard he hated himself.
Stede needed to keep a lid on it now. He needed to be respectful, he needed to be careful, he needed to be good. Because Ed had invited Stede over for dinner.
His heart was racing in his chest enough to make him sick. Terrified he’d be unable to hold himself back from taking Ed in his arms, kissing him. Things Ed never really wanted. Things Ed had offered because he had felt obligated. Because of the gifts, the money. Stede couldn’t take advantage of that sense of obligation.
His fingers trailed over the stoppers on the decanters of liquor on the antique brass drinks trolley he kept in his living room. Fine things… they didn’t mean all that much, did they? The only value to any of his wealth seemed to be the way he could make Ed smile with gifts and… and food. Food, Ed didn’t just smile at. He moaned, he panted, he stifled little burps as his eyes flickered up nervously. He groaned, he sighed, he said God I’m stuffed, fuck! and grinned and patted his belly and—
Oh, God. Stede was… Stede was okay. He trusted in his ability to control himself. Except that he didn’t trust he wouldn’t fuck something up. He was already ruining Ed’s life, making Ed fat and Ed didn’t know and he didn’t agree and he didn’t… and now it was turning him on, again, and…
This was fine. He’d thought about this already. His hands were shaking, so much was his heart buzzing his chest as he breathed like his throat was closing up. Calm, calm, calm, please God calm down—
A drink to calm the nerves before he went to Ed, that would be it. He pulled the stopper off a fine decanter of whisky older than himself and more expensive than Ed’s rent, and scrambled to pull a tumbler out from the neat little row of them beside the bottles.
He shook with anxiety as he poured, spilling some over the fingers holding the little glass. Tipped the drink back with his fingers white-knuckled around the decanter, and fumbled, dropping the tumbler on the carpet. It didn’t break, but memories of his father beating him half to hell for ruining glasses as a boy flashed in his mind as his grip on the decanter tightened.
“Fuck,” he breathed quietly, thoughts of Ed slipping unbidden into his mind, intended surely to calm but only making him feel worse because no, he was no good, really. His father always thought all he did was ruin things, and he was ruining Ed just like…
The thought of picking the glass up, or of touching another, made Stede’s head spin in terror for no good reason. He lifted the lip of the bottle to his own mouth and carefully tipped a mouthful of the liquid in. The illusion of warmth dulled the sharpness of the thundering in his chest.
This was going to be okay, but… he needed to be calmer.
Lucius looked at the decanter in his hand when he crawled into the back of the car.
“You alright?” he asked as he pulled back from the curb.
Stede might have cried, if his head hadn’t been swimming just enough for that sensation to be ever so slightly muffled.
“Lovely, thank you,” Stede muttered, his fingers feeling a little bit numb around the bottle.
He’d normally take the stairs to Ed. Today, he took the elevator because he could feel a sensation of something a little dizzy nipping at his heels.
Ed’s door made him feel so nervous he thought for a moment he’d throw up. His throat was tight, his eyes were warm, he was going to fuck this up, God, he was horrible, he was everything his— But he forced that out of his mind, and in a moment it was faded enough for him to knock. It would be fine. He’d pretend. So good at pretending. He’d pretend he wasn’t a freak.
But as soon as Ed answered the door, all he could do was stare. The shirt, very very tight, showed the outline of Ed’s bellybutton the way it clung to his curves. Ended a couple of inches under the bellybutton, but that wasn’t enough to cover the entire softness of Ed’s belly, the way the elastic of the boxers pressed into his sides— Ed had love handles —and the way a little of that belly hung over the band of his underwear…
Stede couldn’t breathe, because Ed was bigger than last time, and his belly was so round, shirt clinging tight, and his thighs were so soft they jiggled a bit as Ed took a step back, arms soft, jawline soft, hint of soft under his chin accentuated by the stubble.
Ed was… Ed was fat, and Stede prayed to God that his cock would stay as calm about this as it was impressively managing now.
Fuck, he was staring. “I’m sorry,” Stede said.
---
Ed was glad he’d been eating himself stupid, not drinking himself stupid. It was an old habit he’d kicked, but the memory of it made a cold fear freeze his insides when he answered the door to Stede swaying ever so slightly with—of all fucking things, Jesus Christ—a crystal decanter, mostly empty, in his hand. Pink eyes and flushed cheeks like he’d been crying.
“I’m sorry,” Stede said, clearly but a fraction slower than normal.
Stede looked at Ed up and down and all over—“God,” he breathed—and for a moment looked like he was going to take Ed in his arms, but instead just gave Ed a feeble pat to the shoulder with his free hand.
The alcohol was making Ed nervous. The whole fucking thing was making Ed nervous. But he wasn’t just gonna give up on his plan because he’d decided to feel sorry for Stede Bonnet instead of being mad at him. He almost couldn’t remember why he was mad, but that didn’t matter.
Ed sat himself down on the couch, sticking his already-bloated belly out and taking a long drink from a fresh can of soda. If you didn’t like that time with your fingers all over my mouth… Ed thought. He’d make a show of it. Then you’ll leave for good, Ed mused as he burped out loud as long as he could. Not that long, honestly, but it wasn’t like he’d ever been great at burping.
“Fuck,” Stede squeaked. He was pointedly looking at the floor when Ed’s eyes snapped up to him.
“Already had dinner,” Ed said. “Pretty fuckin’ full. Kinda liking getting fat, though, so you can watch me eat dessert if you like.”
Stede made a little noise at the back of his throat and fell down onto the couch beside Ed, closer than he usually would, thighs brushing, he could feel the warmth of Stede’s skin until Stede crossed his legs and made another strange squeak, facing away from Ed.
As Ed spooned ice cream straight from the tub into his mouth, hand occasionally dropping the spoon to give his belly a tender knead, he was aware of Stede shifting awkwardly beside him. A hiccup had pain spiking in his stomach and the resulting press of his hand into the crest of his stuffed belly seemed to push out another burp.
After another swallow of soda, he burped again, more strained this time. His belly was rock hard and warm. It made a few desperate gurgles every now and again, and as Ed dropped the half-eaten carton onto the ground beside him, he moaned. Arching his back, squirming a little, his legs spread, gasping, Ed heard Stede groan a little beside him.
Is it working? Ed wondered. Is this repulsive enough to drive him away so he’ll stop playing with my feelings like this?
Ed hiccuped again, and pain flashed through his middle at the movement that made his belly bounce with it. “Fuck,” he hissed. “Hurts.”
“Oh, Ed,” Stede mumbled suddenly. “Did you hurt your tummy?”
Fuck it, maybe this will convince him to leave, Ed thought. “Yeah,” he said. “Feel.” And he took Stede’s hand and pressed it into the firmness of his stuffed belly.
Stede made that squeak again, shifting in place, and then gave the swell a firm but careful caress. Ed felt his eyes closing, tired with fullness. “Feels nice,” he said, not quite having meant to.
Stede was red, and he looked… uncharacteristically frustrated. This is it, Ed thought. He’ll tell me this isn’t working out, he’ll leave, I’ll never have to see him again. Never have to ache for him again.
For a moment, Stede looked almost sad. And then, very quietly, the blond mumbled a slightly slurred “I can give you a bellyrub.”
Ed didn’t know what was going through Stede’s head, but he’d take what he could get, even if he was mad at Stede.
“Please,” Ed whispered. “Yes.”
Stede awkwardly massaged Ed’s belly, but his distance made it strange and Ed could tell reaching across was making it slightly difficult. Fuck it. Ed swept over into Stede’s lap, grabbing the other’s hands and wrapping them around.
Stede’s hands seemed deft at this. His gentle circles eased away the tight pain in Ed’s stomach, though Ed found it fascinating how much Stede was running his hands over the curve, the shape of his distended belly. It occurred to Ed, now, that Stede did not find any of this repulsive. There was some other war going on in Stede’s head that was resulting in all those strange, far-off looks. The frustration and the fear and the sadness.
What was Ed doing to make Stede feel those things? It wasn’t being gross. So then… maybe it was the come-ons. Fuck. Maybe he was crossing Stede’s boundaries, over and over, and Stede had just been too polite to tell him. Again, fuck. Ed was an idiot.
He opened his mouth to apologise or to fucking say at least something to Stede, some kind of explanation for him being an idiot and not noticing he was making Stede uncomfortable. And then Stede pressed a little into the crest of his belly and he burped, loudly. It made his stomach feel so much better, he trailed into a moan of satisfaction.
And then Ed felt— no, that couldn’t be…
“Fuck me, I’m so fucking full I can—” (he burped again) “—barely breathe. It feels so good. ”
Yep. That was Stede’s (big, by the way) erection Ed was sitting on. Well, fucking hell.
Stede was frozen in place. Ed decided it was probably best to get off, both to make the situation a little less awkward and also so he could see Stede’s face and get a better figure on what was going on. Yeah, there was that look. That disappointment and frustration was red-faced shame. The sadness with the twinge of fear he didn’t exactly get, but…
Holy shit. Stede didn’t hate him. The sexually repressed idiot just had a boner half the time and didn’t know what to do with himself!
“I should go,” Stede said, tears glistening in his eyes as he grabbed his stuff and ran for the door. Ed let him go, because… what was he meant to do? The guy was drunk, and full of internalised shame and… well, the drunk thing was the biggest issue.
---
Stede knew the pathetic sounds of his weeping could probably be heard in all the apartments he passed as he rushed down the hall, echoing in the concrete hell of the corridor. He was a childish, useless, snot-nosed mess on the sidewalk, hard-on long gone because misery and self-loathing weren’t exactly a turn-on.
He’d fucked up, he’d fucked up, he’d fucked up. There was no way Ed hadn’t noticed, he’d… God, he’d crossed so many boundaries tonight. So much touch, and then his stupid fucking dick had needed to say hello at the stupidest fucking time—
“Hey, hey, hey, are you okay?” Lucius asked him as he climbed into the back seat of the car.
Stede couldn’t answer, all he could do was whine with his face in his hands. Decanter forgotten on Ed’s floor.
And then the phone in his pocket buzzed.
Ed Teach [9:02 pm]
hey, u seem to be really worried about this thing we have between us.
but just by the way, i really REALLY want to be with you.
and I think you might like that too.
Stede pressed the call button by accident, his finger hovering over it in indecision. Ed picked up almost immediately.
“Hey, man,” Ed mumbled almost shyly into Stede’s ear through the phone.
“Ed,” Stede said, soft and sad. “I’m sorry I’m like this,” he rambled. “I’m sorry I’m such a weirdo, and a… freak, I think, and… I never wanted to make you feel like you owed me. I didn’t want you to give yourself in return for what I was giving you, because I don’t need that, I promise I don’t. I’m not… I’m not a creep, but I… you’re so… I want…”
“And I want to give that to you, man. Myself, I mean. Wanna do anything for you. Trust me, please, I never felt like I needed to. I never felt like you wanted me to so I had to. I never felt pressured, mate, I just… I thought you hated me. I didn’t know why you wouldn’t just… give me what I wanted. Why you kept leading me on and then pulling yourself away all of the sudden, you know?”
“I never meant that! I didn’t want to let myself hurt you,” Stede said.
“Hurt me?” Ed asked. “You’re not hurting me, man. Have you seen me, lately?”
“Yes,” Stede whimpered. “I did that to you. I kept feeding you. I made you fat cause it turned me on—” (Lucius choked on his own spit in the driver’s seat) “—and I fucked with your body and I did things to you you didn’t want and now you’re… and I…”
“Stede,” Ed said, plainly. “I made myself fat because it turned me on.”
“I— you— you— what?!” Stede stammered into his phone.
Ed laughed on the other end. “We’re both fucking idiots,” he muttered and laughed again. His voice dropped to a teasing tone, then, and he continued. “How about you come over for lunch tomorrow? Bring about twice as much as you think I can fit, and we’ll see where it goes, yeah?”
“Fuck,” Stede breathed.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ed said, and hung up laughing.
And it absolutely was a yes.
“Lucius,” Stede said.
“I’m gonna get dizzy watching your moods. What is it now, still going home?” Lucius asked.
“Will you be free at lunchtime tomorrow? Thinking of making quite a few stops on the way back to Ed’s place.”
“Er, if you pay me to be, then yes, obviously,” Lucius said. “You know this is my job, right? Like, just this.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Stede said. “Um, what would you say your top five takeout places are around here?”
“Top five? Tell your boyfriend I’ll be praying for him.”
“I somehow doubt that, Lucius,” Stede said.
“Can he really eat that much?”
And Stede went red. “You’re deliberately probing for a reaction and I don’t appreciate being teased,” he said, but there was no real bite to it.
“Come on, I thought you’d like the mental image. Finally worked out the kinks, then?”
“Lucius!”
“Come on, I thought that was a good one.”
“Pull over.”
“Well! It wasn’t that bad.”
“No, pull over. I drank far too much and I’m about to be sick.”
“Oh shit. Yep, got it.”