Norrington was buried beneath the blankets on his bed, curled on his side and dozing comfortably, when his body was suddenly bared to the chill night air.

He stirred, kicking out, and groped with one hand, eyes still closed. His fingers met worn leather vest and durable cotton shirt instead of the expected wool coverlet.

"You like your sleep, don't you? Been trying to wake you for ten minutes."

His brain still fogged, Norrington opened his eyes and blinked up at Jack Sparrow, crouched beside him and hoarding the stolen blankets.

"Wuh?" he muttered. "'S not time... you weren't supposed to be back till February..."

"Oh, I lied," said Jack gaily. "Pirate, you know."

"As if I could forget," said Norrington with a yawn. "Would you mind sharing the covers?"

Jack stuck his lower lip out in a pout. "Aren't you glad to see me?"

"Right now I'm too cold to be glad of anything."

"That is certainly something can be taken care of," Jack purred, unfolding himself to stretch out next to Norrington, who murmured in great appreciation once the blankets were pulled over them both. Within seconds, Jack's hands and mouth had put any thoughts of cold far from his mind. It had been nearly a month since the Black Pearl's last visit to Port Royal, and though the commodore and the pirate captain had spent far longer stretches apart in the two years they'd been lovers, no one reunion paled in comparison to another.

Rolling Jack over, Norrington straddled him and let the long, scarred fingers run up his ribs to peel off his nightshirt and toss it aside.

"How long this time?" he breathed against the juncture of Jack's neck and shoulder.

Jack nibbled a path along Norrington's right earlobe. "A week at least." He batted Norrington's hands away when they went for his trousers, having already stripped him of his other clothing. "Isn't there something you want to wish me?" he demanded.

Norrington gave him a quizzical look and he sighed patiently. "It's December the twenty-second, love," he explained slowly as though his companion was mildly stupid.

Norrington's face lit up. "I'd forgotten! So you'll be here for Christmas, then?"

"Aye, I will," Jack confirmed with a grin, letting himself be kissed and fondled by a very enthusiastic Norrington. But when Norrington again tugged at his pants, he suddenly wriggled out of his grip. It was Norrington's turn to pout as Jack reached over the side of the bed.

"Here," he said, plopping a brown package into Norrington's sheet-shrouded lap.

"What's this?"

"Early Christmas gift. Go on, open it." He bounced a little in anticipation as Norrington tore at the plain wrapping to reveal a handsome wooden box. At Jack's urgent hand gestures, he opened it up and drew out a pair of manacles.

Lifting an eyebrow at Jack, completely mystified, he said, "Have you finally gone totally mad?"

"You could show a little more gratitude, you know," replied Jack in a miffed tone. "I didn't even steal them."

"I might do so," Norrington conceded, "if I had any idea what they could possibly be for."

Jack snatched them from his hands. "Simple," he declared. With a stunning burst of speed, he had one end locked about Norrington's left wrist—"this half goes here"—looped the chain around one bar of the iron bedstead—"then around that"—and the second cuff clicked onto Norrington's right wrist before he could raise any sort of protest.

"Voila!" Jack exclaimed with a flourish.

Norrington tugged uselessly at his restraints. The metal was padded with some sort of fur, but the cuffs nonetheless held strongly.

"Sparrow!" he hissed. "You let me out of this contraption right now!"

Jack beamed and shook his head. "And just what do you propose to do if I refuse, my dear James?"

"I will kick you," said Norrington, glaring.

"Not while I'm sitting on your legs, you won't," Jack replied casually. Norrington tried to lift his lower half and found that Jack was indeed perched on top of his knees, not to be budged.

He let out a noise of outrage and made a desperate grab forward, fingers outstretched to wrap around Jack's throat. Jack dramatically flung himself out of reach, though his seat on Norrington's legs was not disturbed.

"Naughty lad," he admonished, wagging a finger at Norrington.

"You are evil," said Norrington darkly.

Jack ignored him, palms teasing along his bare thighs. "It's a practical gift, really—well-made, stylish, comfortable, fun for all involved."

"Easy for you to say!" Norrington shot back. "You're not the one chained to the bed!"

With a chuckle, Jack planted his knees on either side of Norrington's hips and spread his hands flat across Norrington's belly. "If you like, you can consider it payback for all those times you chained me."

"It was only twice!" his restrained lover howled. "And there was absolutely nothing sexual about it!"

Jack snorted. "Keep telling yourself that, mate." He ground down against Norrington suddenly, and Norrington cursed his body and its total inability to lie about what effect Jack never failed to have on him. Not that his mouth usually did much better, of course.

"Think of all the things I could do to you right now, with you totally helpless beneath me," Jack murmured, his lips at Norrington's throat. Norrington's face flushed, because that was exactly what he was thinking of.

"Stop it," he whispered feebly.

Jack wrapped a hand around Norrington's hardening cock and said, "I'll let you go if you really want me to." His eyes glittered wickedly. "But then you won't get to use this lovely gift on me tomorrow night."

"Oh?" said Norrington with interest, resigning himself and pushing up against Jack, this time without any intention of shoving him off.

"Mmmm," Jack said. "I think it will be quite an education."

Norrington made a mental note to clear his schedule for the next day, even as Jack's tongue found its way into his mouth. He wasn't about to wait a whole day—but Jack didn't need to know that until Norrington's hands were free once more.