It had been too long for pleasantries such as greetings or inquiries after mutual friends, too long even for a warning. One moment Will was laying aside his poker to meet whomever he could hear was opening the back door and the next he was bent back over a sawhorse, Jack's teeth at his throat. He grunted at the sudden attack and the uncomfortable position into which he'd been forced, but soon his legs gave way and he thumped to the ground, knocking his head against the wooden crosspiece.

"Sorry, sorry," Jack muttered insincerely, climbing into his lap and wrenching his waistcoat open. Sharp words dissolved into a moan as Jack sucked firmly at the skin below his left ear and pinched a nipple into defensive hardness. Still dizzy, Will clutched at Jack's threadbare coat and opened his mouth for a demanding tongue. The kiss was brief; once he'd gotten Will's breeches open, Jack's head ducked down, twisted hair and baubles scraping Will's torso.

He fell backwards, knocking his head again but uncaring of anything beyond warm, wet pressure. He was hard so quickly it was just this side of painful. His stuttered gasp only made Jack chuckle and take him deeper.

Staring up at the beams high above, his head cleared and he began to come back to himself. And he said, "Wait—stop."

Shock more than anything else caused Jack to obey him. He scrambled up, wiping a hand across his shining lips, and gazed at Will with astonishment and no small amount of indignation.

Will pulled himself up into a sitting position, leaving the laces but pulling his shirt straight. "Elizabeth, please come out," he called to the forge at large.

Jack's eyebrows drew together. A frustrated sigh from the shadows near the donkey's stall drew his attention. Will's bride of three months came slinking out of her hiding spot, her lips curved in a pout.

"How did you know I was there?"

Jack rose up on his knees, frowning at the blacksmith. "Yes, how did you know?" It was clear he liked to think himself too savvy to have missed Elizabeth's presence, but there was a thing or two Will could proudly hold over Captain Jack Sparrow's head.

"I live with you," he said to Elizabeth, leaning back on his hands. "I know precisely what you sound like when you're trying to be silent."

Recovering in admirable time, Jack draped himself over Will, hanging on his shoulder and leering at Elizabeth. "Awful selfish to've gone and spoilt the game." Before Elizabeth could express the anger snapping in her eyes, he added, "Addressin' the lad, o'course."

"It makes me feel queer to know you're watching when I can't see you," Will complained as Elizabeth crossed the room. Standing over them, she bent down to kiss the top of Will's head and tug Jack's braided beard.

"Well, that's all you needed to say, love." She perched neatly on top of the wooden table and leaned forward, elbow on her knee, chin in her hand, and waggled her eyebrows at them. "Now that I'm in the open, please continue."

Jack's hand had already crept between Will's legs. "With pleasure, Mistress Turner," he purred, winking at Elizabeth. He pushed Will flat again.

If Will craned his neck, he could just see Elizabeth at the edge of the table, sliding a hand beneath her lifted skirt. She was turned upside down, of course—not unlike his life, now that he thought about it.

He let out a breath, closed his eyes, and resigned himself to the whims of fate, Elizabeth's intent gaze, and Jack's wicked tongue.