"What about this one?"
Ed tucked his smile against Stede's bare shoulder as he felt Stede's fingers circle around his wrist, and he propped himself up properly, folding his hand beneath his chin. The scar on the side of his wrist was a skinny, fishhook-shaped thing, faded with age. "Must've been about...I dunno, nineteen, maybe? Tried to impress some guy by spinning my knife around my finger and it slipped."
Stede, encouraged by Ed's huff and fond eyeroll at his teenage antics, laughed, the arm around Ed's shoulders pressing down into the small of his back.
This was a game they played, sometimes. Stede picked the smaller scars, most of the time, the ones without too much baggage. He'd never asked about the ugly knotted scar above Ed's hip, or the nasty twisted thing that pushed his kneecap sideways, or the faded X carved over Ed's heart, and definitely not the even, uniform scars on his thighs that had been covered up with shaky tattoos of flowers and hearts and sharks.
There were lots of scars that weren't those, and Ed didn't mind most of them. Past foolishness, past bravery. Stede's favorite scars were the cluster of puncture scars on Ed's tummy and the long, swooping scar under his chest, because they were proof of living, of outsmarting the world. He liked to lick the scar under Ed's chest during intimate moments to make him whimper, knew just how to rest his hand on that sensitive patch of tummy to make Ed gasp.
And, tonight, Ed was halfway towards taking this little game somewhere. He had a very convenient scar from his twenties (didn't fully clear the railing during yardies and landed on a deeply unfortunate section of wood) right along the crease of his hip that Stede could explore -
Stede's voice turned thoughtful, then, his fingers trailing over Ed's shoulder blades. "Don't tell me if you don't want to. But what about...these?"
Ed practically bit his tongue. Those things were faded to hell, only really visible along his shoulders though they'd once stretched down to the small of his back. They were from the first and only time he'd ever gotten flogged.
Ed pushed himself up, resting fully on top of Stede's chest, now, his arms crossed under his chin. "So," he started. "I don't think I'd turned fifteen yet."
"Oh, Ed," Stede whispered, his face crinkling with sympathy.
Yeah, Ed thought, he wanted to get this one out. Pretty often, Stede's reactions to the rough ones felt like cleaning an old wound.
See, if his plan for that day had worked, he probably would've described it as his first fuckery. Because he meant to get caught stealing extra food, and he'd had a plan that seemed perfect.
He'd been sailing on ol' Hornigold's crew for maybe three months. And one of the other cabin boys looked out for the fresh ones. He was a couple years older than Ed, always shared the food he stole and never got caught. Ed had had the biggest crush of his young life on Felix.
Now, Jack had told him one night that floggings weren't shit. Jack was about Ed's age, but he'd been around longer, so Ed had believed him. Jack had said there was nothing to it, you just had to bite your tongue a bit and it'd be over before you knew it.
Ed should've known something was up when he'd winked at Jack and Felix over his shoulder as he was marched to the mast and they'd looked scared out of their heads. He'd stuck his tongue out at them through his smile, cheerfully admitted to his charges, imagining laying in Felix's arms that night as Felix gently patched him up -
The first strike took the breath out of Ed's lungs. He'd screamed himself hoarse by the time it was finally, finally over, laid there on the deck sobbing for much longer as Jack and Felix tried to stand him up.
The worst part was how the older guys laughed, even the ones Ed had thought were pretty cool just that morning. Ed would never look at anyone the same again, for as long as he lived.
He had wound up in Felix's arms that night, but he'd still been too busy crying his eyes out to really appreciate it.
"Pretty fucked up," Ed concluded. Stede's face was all crumpled up, his lip wobbling, and Ed gently cupped his face in his hands. "I'm alright, babe, c'mon. I'm right here."
Stede's voice was steady enough. "Are we sure everyone who laughed at you is already dead?"
"Yeah," Ed snorted, leaning forward to press a kiss to the tip of Stede's nose. "Stede, man, really, it was so long ago -"
"That's the worst part," Stede said. "You were fourteen, Ed! You deserved so, so much better."
Ed paused.
Stede met his eyes, taking Ed's hand and holding it tight between both of his. "You deserved so much better," he said firmly. "You are precious, Ed, and you deserve to be treated like it."
Maybe Ed couldn't fully believe that, not all the way, not just yet. But he wrapped his arms around Stede, tucking himself in sound and safe. "You treat me like I'm precious."
Stede's hand landed on his shoulders, rubbing gently, like he was trying to soothe the pain of decades-old wounds. "Making up for lots of lost time."
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