(standard disclaimer applies)
If only Will would stop wriggling, he'd be able to list all the many reasons why this was utterly and completely wrong, beginning with...
"So that's what the powder tastes like," said Will curiously, and his tongue flickered out to lap at the skin behind James's ear.
Perhaps he should work backwards. Completely and utterly wrong, ending with...
Will's knee nudged his legs apart, rubbing against him, the sensation losing little effect to the layers of cloth between their skin.
"You – you're married!" he exclaimed, finally hitting upon something relevant.
"If you can find my wife to prove it," Will replied, lips grazing his throat, "by all means, be my guest." He grinned, waving a hand around at the empty smithy. "In fact, you already are."
He'd thought Gillette had said something about the governor stopping by with an urgent message, wringing his hands and demanding to see the commodore, but he'd needed to pick up this hinge for his door, and he hadn't been able to keep his feet from setting off in the direction of the blacksmith's shop. It couldn't wait. Why couldn't it wait?
"Wait," he said faintly. Will's mouth was hot and open at his pulse point, and he was thrusting in time with the beat of James's blood.
Will lifted his head, but it was only to look at James squarely, and his hips did not stop their rocking motion. "I have waited far too long for this, James."
He leaned down and kissed him firmly. James finally gave in and pulled Will flush against him, thinking, So have I, so have I.