In the two years since the incident with the cursed pirates and the Black Pearl, James Norrington had often dreamed of Jack Sparrow putting him in a compromising position. He had also, somewhat more disturbingly, had dreams of the good-for-nothing Turner boy doing scandalous things to him with that ridiculous feather in his hat. But though he had pursued them endlessly across the Caribbean, always a month or a week or three days behind, he'd never expected them to turn up on his doorstep in the middle of the night.

And he'd certainly never expected that he would actually allow himself to be put into that compromising position, backed up against his own staircase with Sparrow kneeling in front of him and sucking his cock in a manner that could only be described as smug. The hat was nowhere to be seen, but the feather or one just like it was being run through Will Turner's fingers as he stood a few feet away and watched.

James wasn't sure if he was experiencing a world of good luck or an excess of bad.

He didn't know just how it had happened. One moment he was holding a pistol on them both, then Jack was whispering to Will and Will had begun nodding. James had been understandably distracted by the sight of Jack's tongue flickering out against the shell of Will's ear as well the slow, appraising gaze Will was sweeping over his body, and the next thing he knew, Will had taken his weapon and Jack was kissing him with a hot, open mouth. The three glasses of wine from dinner had fogged James' mind a bit, so it took him a minute to catch up to his lips and his tongue, which had already decided to return Jack's affections. He tried once to maintain some semblance of order, pushing Jack away, but Jack had merely shrugged and dropped to his knees, and then his breeches had been undone and it had all gone downhill from there.

Well, that was from the perspective of his naval officer's nature, because he didn't like to lose control of a situation. The attention being lavished on him was of a kind he'd been lacking for a very long time, and his body was not terribly willing to put a stop to it anytime soon.

He couldn't keep himself from whimpering as Jack drew off, holding his hips steady when James tried to follow that thievish mouth. It had stolen his resolve, his sanity, and his tendency toward indignation all in one.

Jack chuckled as he got gracefully to his feet, running his hands up James' body to rest on his shoulders.

"Did you miss us, Commodore?" he asked huskily.

"What—why—" Jack fastened lips to his neck and he moaned. "Oh, I'm having a strange night."

Will chuckled and James' eyes snapped to him as Jack half-turned, still holding onto James. "I think perhaps we can avoid the issue of finding an inn for the night, what d'you say, William?"

James was certain that Will's eyes had not glittered nearly so wickedly the last time they'd seen one another. Or, no, they didn't glitter, precisely—Jack's nearly black eyes did that. But Will's eyes were too deep and brown to glitter; instead, they seemed to warm, or to melt, like sealing wax left too long in the sun.

He was looking at Jack with those eyes—no, he was looking at James—no...

He was looking at them both.

"It's James," said Will quietly, cocking an eyebrow. "Isn't it?"

No one had called him James since the governor had died.

"James, then," said Jack, showing gold in his grin before kissing him again, a quick teasing peck that made James bite his own tongue when it ended. "May we stay the night, James?"

This was wrong on every conceivable level. Men—pirates—brigands—scoundrels...

And he was so very tired of doing exactly what he was supposed to do each second of each day for the last thirty-two years of his life. Perhaps he wasn't about to go chasing after sin, but if it was delivered to his doorstep, well, he could always blame the wine.

He nodded mutely, not trusting himself to keep the tremors of blind desire from his voice.

"Good," said Jack heartily, his hands still at James' waist, but his eyes were fixed on Will. Even in his dazed, half-ravished state, he could see the silent question in Jack's eyes: is this all right? If Will said no or hesitated in the slightest, James knew, they'd be out of his house in an instant.

The younger man held Jack's gaze, clearly thinking it over. Finally he answered by stepping forward and slipping his arms around them both, leaning into Jack for a kiss so deep and intimate that James stopped breathing. It seemed to affect its recipient in much the same way; for all of Jack's teasing and flippant remarks, this wasn't a game for either of them. There was unreserved and unashamed passion in that kiss, and there was love, and trust, and commitment. And James thought that if he could touch something like that, even if it was only a shadow, if it was only for one night, it would be worth all the damnation he was going to earn.

He choked on breath again as Will's mouth sought his own, shyly at first but with growing ease as he mapped the contours of James' lips and teeth and gums with his tongue. James would have expected it to be more like Jack, but someone else must have taught Will how to kiss because he was entirely different. If Jack was a sudden whirl of hurricane wind and water, Will was a slow, relentlessly driving rain and the inexorable lap of waves against the shore. He was gentle, but no less yielding for it.

The nip at James' collarbone when Will released him was considerably less gentle. Barely held up between them, James looked to Jack, who was watching with a wildcat's grin on his face.

"Now that," he purred, soothing the sting of Will's bites with his tongue, "is just pretty."

"Bedroom?" Will gasped, one hand fumbling around James to tug at Jack's waistband.

James nodded mutely as Jack attacked his mouth again, somehow managing to keep his wits enough to direct the surging mass of bodies and groping hands in the right direction. They tumbled onto the bed half-dressed and quickly commenced divesting each other of the remaining clothing, getting hair caught under elbows and knocking foreheads and cursing roughly.

Having neither the experience nor the presence of mind to arrange positions, James found himself between Will's spread legs with Jack kneeling behind him. He was still aching with need, but he was also beginning to panic a little.

Will felt the body above him start to tremble and kissed him quickly, as Jack leaned halfway off the bed in search of his coat and the contents of its pockets.

"Jack," Will hissed through gritted teeth, though his hands on James were still gently calming, "this is not going to work unless you hurry up."

"I really have to agree," said James faintly. Will's eyebrows shot up and he laughed softly, his breath tickling against the side of James' face

"Quiet, both of you," Jack chided. He came back up with a triumphant grunt. Leaning over James to plant a smacking kiss on Will, he murmured, "Here ‘tis, love. Never come into port without it."

Curious, James took note of Jack's hand sliding between his legs and under Will's body. Will arched up with a groan, bringing his hard length against James' own erection once again. Whatever Jack was doing to Will with that hand, it made Will's knees lock around James' hips, and he certainly wasn't going to complain about that.

With Jack's hands on the backs of his thighs, holding his legs up, Will reached down to direct James into him, slippery and warm and God, so tight...

He tried to thrust deeper and Jack held him fast. After an initial cry and a surge upward against James, Will lay perfectly still underneath them, eyes shut tight. If he was feeling any of what James was feeling, he was probably just trying not to die.

"Relax, love," said Jack's voice in his ear, as fingers began to circle the puckered hole between his legs.

"Not—bloody—likely," James managed. Will opened one eye, grimacing at them both.

"I'm going to kill you, Sparrow," he said forcefully. "This is cruel and unusual punishment, even by your standards." Off of the questioning look—verging on hurt—that James gave him, he added, "Not you, darling, you're doing splendidly. If this idiot doesn't get on with it already, though..."

A single prepared digit slid inside James and he jerked, sparking an brief but enthusiastic response from the third man.

"I don't want to brutalize him, Will," Jack snapped. "Are you so heartless, or have you just forgotten your own first time?"

"It doesn't hurt that badly," Will confided to James, forcing himself still once more. "Or rather, it does, but you get over it."

Jack added another finger and increased his pace a bit, the motion carrying through to Will on the bottom. Before he had a chance to do anything more than sigh in relief, however, Jack withdrew both fingers and sat back, surveying the scene before him.

Will howled in outrage and tried to pummel him, but James was pretty much blocking him from landing any good shots. Jack just snickered and ran his tongue down James' spine.

Still being kept from moving into the body beneath him, James had had enough as well.

"I'm afraid I must once again agree with Mr. Turner," he said, voice strained but authoritative. "Can we please move this along?"

"Fuck yes," Will moaned.

"Feeling a bit impatient, Commodore?" Jack chuckled, his mustache scraping the nape of James' neck.

"That," James replied gravely, "and the fact that the longer I have to think on it, the more likely I am have an attack of sanity, throw you both out, and lock you up for attempted debauchery of an officer of the British navy—amongst your many other crimes."

Will's hands tightened on James' shoulders.

"Debauch the good Commodore right now, Jack, or you're never sharing my bed again."

"Fine," he grumbled, spreading his damp fingers on either of the hips immediately in front of him. "Honestly, the two of you combined have all the restraint of a an alley cat in heat..."

"Jack!" This time both voices were raised in a single plea-turned-command.

"All right!" With that, he pushed hard into James, who whimpered at the sharp stab of pain.

Immediately two mouths were nudging, kissing, and licking at him in attempts at comfort.

"Hush, you're fine," said Jack gruffly, nibbling on his earlobe and picking up a slow, steady rhythm. "Just give it a minute."

For his part, Will did something absolutely extraordinary with the muscles sheathing James. His body spasmed helplessly and he gasped out, "Dear God!"

Jack grinned appreciatively. "You're right useful to have around, you are," he said to Will, who smirked at him before James moved experimentally inside him and he threw his head back on the pillow. James pebbled kisses along the long, exposed neck and repeated the motion, which was mirrored by Jack's twisting hips.

"So are you," said Jack in surprise. "Took me hours to figure out how to make him shriek exactly like that."

"Oh, shut up," Will panted, his eyes rolling back half in exasperation and half in shuddering pleasure. He fixed them on James, who felt compelled to lean down and taste the long lashes fluttering from half-closed lids.

"Harder?" Will asked, a note of desperation making his voice rise.

Jack waited for James to give his consent.

"Harder," James breathed.

"I do aim to please," Jack rumbled as he obeyed.

They moved together and James lost himself in the exquisite dark palaces surrounding him, stretching him, crushing him, filling him. He was buried in Will's curses and cries, Jack's belly-deep groans, the commands issuing from his own ragged voice: deeper, harder, faster, please, yes, more.

He came, not from Will's close grasping heat or Jack's throbbing hardness spearing him, but from the sound of Jack crying out two names as he spent himself: Will—Jamie. He had not been called his first name in over a year, but he had not been called by that particular nickname since childhood, and it affected him more deeply than he ever could have imagined

Everything inside him collapsed, including Jack, and James fell heavily onto Will's firm body.

"Oh, glory," Jack sighed.

"Ooof," said Will.

With a cluck of his tongue, Jack observed, "I think we're squelching the boy."

"You are," said Will plaintively. "And I've not exactly finished, either."

Sheepish, James muttered, "Sorry."

Jack pulled out of him with a grunt. "No worries." Lifting a boneless James up and off of Will, he nuzzled the dark curling hairs at the juncture of Will's thighs.

James stretched out on his side, his breath still coming too quickly, and watched with a half-open mouth as Jack swallowed Will with the confident air of long practice and familiarity. Will, hips lifting against the pressure James remembered all too well, groped blindly for James' hand and squeezed it. His other hand twisted in Jack's hair, pulling gently so that the many ornaments dug into his skin. Quite naturally, he didn't last very long. James was fascinated by the rapt expression on Jack's face as he savored every little bit of Will, then kissed his way up the slim body to his parted lips.

"Love you," Will whispered, and it would have been easy to imagine that they were alone if he had not still been gripping James' hand.

"Bloody whelp," said Jack affectionately, smoothing Will's sweat-darkened hair back from his face. He half-turned to regard James with a tired but nonetheless saucy grin. "Have we worn you out, then, Commodore?"

James crawled into the outstretched arms. Will was already half-asleep against Jack's shoulder, but he reached over to pull James close. Jack kissed him lazily and he could taste all three of them in the dark recesses of his mouth, like a secret hidden there for him to find. James felt as though he ought to thank them both, but felt too silly. He burrowed against Jack's side instead and kissed Will's palm, wondering what the morning would bring and finding himself unable to care very much, because he had this night to keep for his own.