The Tardis, spinning through space and time, rocking wildly. The Doctor is tugging levers apparently at random, and hanging on tight. They spun west, towards Cardiff.
The blue box materialised on the corner of a nondescript street. It has locked on to the most time-travelled person in this whole rift-ridden city. Who is, not entirely by coincidence, exactly who its owner is looking for.
It fades completely into the picture, light flashing, a breeze from nowhere disturbing the litter in the street. It's making that authentic whirring noise that no one who has heard it can completely forget.
Captain Jack Harkness can't heard it over the noise of the espresso machine, spitting and whirring to a terrestrial rhythm of its own. So he doesn't look round, preoccupied as he is with the absence of any space to himself. He has time off, a phenomenally rare event, so he intends to sit in a cafe and drink inferior coffee and stare into the distance and consider.
The Doctor steps out, snapping his fingers to lock the door. He leaves it to absorb rift energy and wanders down the street, hands in pockets, towards 'Maria's Cafe'.
The cafe door rattles briefly, but the Captain, standing at the counter, doesn't look round until a voice behind him says 'Jack'.
The man behind him is tall, floppy-haired, young. Jack experienced a mental tail-spin of doubt and disbelief for a split second, but you couldn't tell that from his face unless you were looking for it.
'Do I know you?' Jack asked, his expression controlled.
The man looks nonplussed for a second.
'Oh. Yes. Yes, you do.' He looks at Jack as if willing him to catch on to something. 'New face?' Nothing. 'Same man...new face. Yes?'
'Doctor!' He would have hugged him, except for Maria saying 'That's one seventy-five, lovely.'
Jack glances round, then back to the Doctor.
'Buy you a coffee?'
* * *
Sitting at the window table, Jack looks at the Doctor properly. The Doctor submits silently to the inspection, smiling slightly.
'You're getting younger every time.'
'I hate you.' His voice is full of relief, almost shaky. He can barely keep from grinning, so he doesn't. He knows his grin is becoming.
'Oh come on, you don't age either. You look - '
The Doctor looks at him, ready to say "fantastic", then substitutes 'tired. Busy time?'
Jack sips his coffee. 'Nah, just - Ianto's sister and her kids are staying at his flat and - he's not really ready to have that converstation yet - '
So Jack (who has not exactly moved in with Ianto, but is definitely round at his place a lot in the past six months) has gone back to sleeping in his old room at the Hub. It's not ideal - the nightmares are back, and he's started waking up, gasping and alone in the claustrophobic dark, the clogging taste of earth still in his mouth. He hasn't told Gwen and Ianto about this, but he looked sufficiently exhausted yesterday that they ganged up and insisted that he take a couple of days off. Hence random coffee-shop time-killing.
The Doctor has latched on to the salient point.
The Doctor raised his eyebrows.
'You've got a boyfriend?'
'Yeah. Guy from work.'
Jack is aware he sounds horrendously dull.
'I killed his cyberwoman girlfriend - and then we just sorta clicked.'
'I've missed Cardiff,' said the Doctor, mildly ironic. Then, apparently worried, he said, 'Listen, I haven't just dropped in on a social visit, well, maybe I have, in fact if you have a boyfriend I probably have, so I'll just drink this, um, coffee and then go and, um, go and look at the bay or something - '
Jack put down his cup. 'Doctor.'
'This isn't babbling, this is talking as fast as I think, which for me is quite impressive.'
The Doctor looks serious, almost severe.
'Wanna explain what you're doing here?' There is, of course, given the vagaries of time travel, always the possibility that this isn't what Jack thinks it is.
'This new body.'
The Doctor is staring into his coffee.
'There's this girl. Amy, Amy Pond, well, Amelia Pond, and she seems to be wired into the fabric of the universe and I don't know how yet which is very very worrying and she doesn't remember the Daleks and she's got red hair and we went to - anyway, the point is, when we got back, she kissed me.'
'Uh huh?' Jack is looking slightly mistrustful, wary of what's coming next. The Doctor is in a hell of a state over yet another companion with a crush.
'Only it turns out - this new body, well it's working. All of it. For some reason. Which,' The Doctor begins, starting to speed up again, apparently trying to leave that admission as far behind as possible,' hasn't happened in a long, long time, probably about - well, quite a few years, I assumed it was staying that way but this time it's apparently entirely - ' he looks up and sees the way Jack is staring at him, and tails off ' - functional.'
'You mean - ' christ, Jack thinks, he's blushing. Blushing. Him. ' - your sex drive?
The Doctor is fiddling with empty paper tubes of sugar, tearing them into half-centimetre rounds of paper. He glances up. His head is still down, as if he's trying to hide his eyes behind his hair a little.
Jack began to laugh, a proper, rich laugh. It's the shyness, the virginity of the new Doctor.
'And you're telling me because...?'
'Who else?' the Doctor asked, softly, meeting his eyes. 'Really, who else would I tell?'
Finally. Took him long enough to get round to it.
Captain Jack Harkness never got anyone by being indecisive.
'You're not drinking your coffee,' he said, suddenly.
'It's still too hot - ' began the Doctor.
'No, that was an order. You are not drinking your coffee. You're coming with me.'
He rose, and moved to leave. The Doctor scrambled up, abandoning the small pyramid of torn paper tubes he had been building on the table, and followed.
Once in the street, Jack grabbed his hand. It was spontaneous, a warm and oddly powerful little gesture. The Doctor squeezed it.
With his other hand, Jack is fishing for his mobile. He found it, quickdialled a number.
'This way,' he said, dropping the Doctor's hand and setting off along the street, long coat billowing slightly. The Doctor walked at his side, and Jack's call was picked up.
* * *
Gwen Cooper was sitting in the Torchwood Jeep, eight miles outside Cardiff, eating a really gruesome sandwich. They were checking out eighteen different warehouses, any of which might have a fragile chunk of Arcturan bile-ore stashed away in it. Or not. The tracking software was on the blink without Tosh there to look after it, so it was back to the old police stake-out techniques. Gwen was bored almost speechless.
Her phone rang.
'Gwen. How's it going?'
'Fuckall to report. Anything going on with you?'
'Yea-ah. Listen, where's Rhys?'
'Aberystwyth, gone for the day with the truck. Why?'
'An old friend has just showed up in town, and Ianto's family are staying at the flat and I was wondering, could I take him round to yours?'
Gwen grinned to herself in the rear-view mirror. Jack's unsubtle demands on her life amused her.
'When you say an old friend - '
'Well, more ancient, really,' said Jack, glancing sideways at the Doctor. Was that a slightly reproachful look? Mmmhm, yes it was.
'OK, of course you can. You've got a key, right? Listen, there's condoms and some KY in the bottom drawer by the bed.'
'Condoms?' Jack's face clouded, concerned. Even his present situation couldn't stop him worrying about his team. 'But - Gwen, aren't you on the pill?'
'Yes, I am, love, they're yours from the last time. When you met that girl with the freckles, remember?'
'Oh, yeah.' Jack laughed. They were walking rapidly in the direction of Gwen's flat.
'Listen, Rhys will be back at five, but call me if you need to and I'll collect him from the depot and take him out to dinner.'
'Gwen, you are a life-saver.'
Gwen was still grinning in the mirror. Why not push him?
'So, when you say an "old friend" - is this sex or is it alien stuff or is it part of your Other Life That You Don't Talk About?'
'All of the above. See ya, Gwen.'
'Jack. Jack! Be honest with me - are you going to shag an alien in my bed!?'
'Can't hear ya - you're breaking up! Bye!' And he hung up.
Gwen stared at the display of her phone, which read "CALL ENDED". Then she smiled to herself, a smile which became a laugh. She pushed her hair off her face, still grinning, and turned the radio on.
* * *
Jack had a key. They'd swapped keys, all three of them, not long ago. It was safer. He let them into the flat, turned to fling his coat on the sofa. When he turned back, the Doctor was sonic-locking the door.
Jack held up the jingling set. 'I have the keys.'
'Oh. Right. Yes.' Slightly abashed, the Doctor put the screwdriver away. 'Force of habit.'
'New screwdriver?' Jack had noticed the green glow, the slightly different resonance of the sound.
A pause. The Doctor, standing there, looked as if he was about to say 'Nice place.' Jack has had too many tension-fuelled conversations about decor in his long life, and therefore pinned him to the door abruptly and kissed him. The Doctor spent a second and a half trying to physically back through the wood before he remembered that this was what he was here for. Or, possibly, before he faced that fact.
Jack felt him relax slightly, and kept kissing him, biting gently at his lower lip, closing his eyes. Oh, this is good. He adjusted his arms, one hand in the small of the Doctor's back, one behind his neck. The Doctor, getting the idea, hugged him back, drawing Jack against him forcefully. The kiss was fuelled by something like mutual desperation, and continued til both were breathless. They relaxed simultaneously, like a tide turning, drew apart, met eyes. This time the Doctor didn't flinch or glance away, and Jack saw his pupils broaden. He leaned in again, kissed the Doctor on the lips more gently.
Without breaking contact, Jack struggled his braces off his shoulders, while the Doctor started to unbutton Jack's shirt. Once that was off, he ran his long, slender hands over Jack's back, as if coming to terms with this amount of bare skin, this close. Jack moved down to the Doctor's neck, and expertly inflicted a lovebite that didn't feel too sharp but still came up gorgeous bloodied red. The Doctor arched his head back and gasped, but he did not pull away. Jack tugged at the bow tie.
'Bow ties are cool. Army Surplus?' he retorted.
'Hey, this is original!'
'So is my tie.' Jack bit him again, the other side of his neck. He gasped. Jack flicked the Doctor's braces off his shoulders with his thumbs, and then let him go.
The Doctor was flushed, his hair a tousled mess. He was breathless and the second bite was vivid on his throat.
Jack turned and led the way into the bedroom. It was not entirely tidy, but the bed was made. He threw himself onto it, and the Doctor sat on the edge, gingerly, as if ready for a fast escape. He tugged the unknotted tie off and dropped it, and unbuttoned his shirt slowly. Jack reached out a hand, and untucked it at the back, before sliding a hand idly up the Doctor's back. Then he curved his fingers and drew his nails down over the smooth skin.
'Ow!' The Doctor looked round at him, startled. 'What was that for?'
'You'll find out,' Jack said, cryptically. He pulled impatiently at the Doctor's shirt, trying to yank him backwards.
'Wait.' The Doctor is working on his shoelaces, slightly frantically. Jack sat up, pulled up the shirt, and began to kiss his back, occasionally running his tongue along the Doctor's spine. Progress on the shoelaces slows a little.
Jack wrapped one arm round the Doctor's waist, pinning him in place. His hand touches the Doctor's thigh, strokes it, not moving too far up, just enough to make him aware of where it might be going.
The shoes come off, the socks follow. Jack is still kissing the Doctor's back, and as he straightens up, Jack efficiently pulls the shirt off his shoulders.
The Doctor's new skin is smooth and pale, pretty much hairless. His hair is even more ruffled, and Jack sits up closer, runs his other hand through it, smoothing it back. The Doctor's head leans back against his shoulder, his eyes half closing. He looks spaced out, suddenly. Jack's left hand is working its way gently up the Doctor's thigh, still only hinting at what he's going to do, and yes, definitely, there is an erection, compressed by trousers and therefore pointing to the left, but still... Jack catches his breath. He's hard too, but not distractingly so, and this hair-stroking seems to be calming the Doctor, giving him time to accept that they've got this far. Jack kisses the bare shoulder in front of him, works his way gently up the neck. The Doctor's hair smells faintly of stone dust and that other, seductive scent, the essence of a not-human body.
Jack decides it's time. He traces his index and middle fingertips gently along the line of the Doctor's thigh, and over his cock.
'Oh!' The Doctor jolted, physically, like someone kicking in their not-quite-sleep. It must have been a really, really long time.
'Been a long time?'
The Doctor looks fully aware now. 'I wish people would stop asking me that,' he says, tetchily. But his hand is on Jack's thigh and working upwards, nothing like so gently as Jack's did. He twists to kiss him on the lips again, trying to rotate his body as much as possible, before giving in and rolling over pretty much into Jack's lap. He struggles with Jack's fly buttons, his elbows projecting out - he's rolled so he's offbalance and about to fall to the floor. Jack undoes them for him, revealing - oh, what a surprise - no underwear. The Doctor pauses for a second, then leans in, kissing Jack's lower ribs, his stomach. He seems to be working lower, but as if he's still building up his courage.
'Not yet,' Jack says, gripping the Doctor's arms and pulling him up so he won't fall off the bed. 'This is about you.'
He pulls the Doctor down beside him, and kisses him again, for a long time. Their breathing quickens up and Jack can feel the vague, du-du-du-dum heartbeats against his side, almost frighteningly fast. He unbuttons the Doctor's trousers, slips them down over his hips. Stripped, he looks about twenty-two - smooth and pale and a bit wiry. And suddenly, overwhelmingly shy. He's grasped Jack's hand gently and nudged it back up to a safer area above his waist. Jack squeezes experimentally at his nipple - sometimes works, sometimes not. This time, apparently not. The Doctor's own hands are against his back, and he is lying on Jack's other arm.
Jack wriggles properly free of his own trousers, kicking them off impatiently into a heap on the floor. God he's hot. He bites his lip, getting a colossal visual kick off their naked bodies, both slightly flushed and both quite definitively hard. With anyone else, by now, he would have made a grab and they would have been beating each other off, even if only to build the tension further. But this is all oddly innocent.
'Have you forgotten what to do with it?' he asked, mostly to break the tension by being cheaply amusing.
Only it didn't sound like that. The Doctor skimmed right over the aspirated h to land squarely on the t, which he pronounced like it was a capital. His face was dead straight and Jack though for a moment he'd said something dreadfully wrong -
But only for a moment, because then he was flat on his back and the Doctor had got both his wrists pinned above his head and was looking down at him, totally in control. Jack hadn't even see the move coming, and he was usually pretty good at this.
'What did you say?'
'Huh?' Jack stares at him. His initial fight reaction has died because this is suddenly even hotter. The Doctor just pinned him, faster than he could dodge. He's leaning over, looking at Jack closely, apparently totally relaxed. His face has that severe look again. Jack gets a sense of the old, fearful Timelord power that he hadn't seen the new Doctor use yet.
Jack looks as innocent as he can.
'Were you being mouthy?'
'No, Doctor.' He shook his head.
'Good. That's my job.' The Doctor looks suddenly much happier. Keeping his grip on Jack's wrists, he moves neatly to sit astride his hips. Jack suddenly feels slightly fragile.
Jack, while by nature a voracious switch, has not subbed in quite a while. Ianto is a 100% coffee-fetching submissive, and besides, spending a lot of your time being threatened, locked up, isolated, and repeatedly killed has made him very wary about whom he gives control to. But, thinking about it, if he couldn't submit to this man he'd follow to the end of the universe - whom he had followed to the end of the universe - who could he submit to?
Still, no fun in being a good sub.
'Bastard,' he muttered, between his teeth, soft enough to almost sound like he didn't mean to be heard.
The Doctor grips both Jack's wrists with one of his long hands, and reaches down to pinch his nipple with the other. Jack gasped.
'Fucking kinky bastard, where the hell did you learn this?' Jack gasped, thinking he may as well do it properly.
'Tell me your safeword now, you may be needing it,' said the Doctor calmly.
'Spaghetti. And - ' Jack thinks now is a good time to say so, before the Doctor thinks of doing it ' - I'm kinda off breath-control stuff right now.' And possibly forever. He's had enough of suffocation to last him his whole life.
The Doctor nods.
'OK. Noted.' He frowned. 'Spaghetti?'
'Mmm. Interesting. You can tell me why when I've finished with you,' said the Doctor, and flipped Jack over onto his front.
Jack, from the breathless perspective of face-down on the bed, is aware of being held by the shoulder - lightly, but with a grip that says, this can get forceful. The Doctor's other hand is running gently across his buttocks, making him quiver and press into the bed, trying to get some direct friction against his cock.
Then the Doctor's thumb has slid between his buttocks and is moving to -
'There's lube in the drawer,' Jack says, indicating the bedside cabinet. The Doctor nods, lets go to get it, and Jack flicks over and jumps him, ready to fight him this time.
The brief, breathless tussle ends with Jack face down again, one arm twisted round and up his own back.
'Don't,' said the Doctor, firmly. Jack, on a high from thrashing and giggling and trying to get on top, breathes hard. He has no idea quite how the Doctor did that.
Still holding Jack in place, the Doctor stretches over dramatically to reach the drawer. The lube bottle has got buried right at the back, behind a collection of bras and socks. He locates it, lubes up his thumb, and returns to stroking Jack's bum. It's so sensitive now that Jack, who is honestly trying to be still, can't help quivering. He only stops when the Doctor's thumb slips inside, only a little but enough to make Jack freeze and gasp.
'Yes?' asks the Doctor, in a totally reasonable voice, as if he hadn't suddenly changed from a shy sex-starved creature to a perfect dom without any of the intermediate stages.
'Uuuh...yeah...' Jack wants to push back, take more, but he's pinned and can't get any leverage. This is going to go at the Doctor's speed. He takes a deep breath, thinks himself easily into that place where yes, I want this, I want him to give it exactly how he wants to. The thumb is slipping deeper, slightly cool with lube, teasing the muscles into relaxing before moving further in again. And again. The Doctor's fingernails brush Jack's inner thigh. He can feel every move with a precision like being on drugs. His cock is relaxing slightly, all of him centred on receiving this feeling, this gentle intimate touch.
Then, without apparently trying, the Doctor nudges the right spot with the tip of his thumb, and Jack's vision pales out for a second. He is possibly saying something - moaning something. The grip on his wrist has loosened, the Doctor has to do nothing now to hold him there but to keep doing that...yes, there, that's it, right there...don't you fucking stop...
The Doctor stops, draws out slightly. The blinding feeling suddenly fades out.
'Are you telling me what to do?'
Ah. Apparently he was speaking out loud.
'No.' It's a whimper, really, but because it's the right answer the Doctor presses back in, harder this time, touches the right place again, and Jack groans, the sound coming right up from his diaphragm. Without losing his place, the Doctor rolls gently down beside him, leaning up on one elbow, his face level with Jack's chest.
'Do you like this?'
'Oh, fuck, yeah...'
'What do you like?'
'I like this - wow, I really like what you're doing...'
'You like taking this?' God it sounds hot the way he says it.
'Mmm...' He is thinking, if he stops again... god that's good... The Doctor's thumb is still moving, stroking gently, so it feels like he's coming, every touch a small prequel to orgasm.
That was an order.
'I like taking it. I like - you giving it.' The pause is because, in a moment of clarity, Jack has realised that he is saying this to the Doctor, and his eyes snap open wide. Saying this. To the Doctor. And after waiting for this for so goddamn long, he can't quite believe it.
Somehow, the Doctor was ready for this moment too, because now he's kissing him again - utterly reassuring, as if Jack was new to this, as if Jack was the shy one. Between kisses, he's murmuring, 'Good, because - I want you really - hot for this. Because - when I fuck you - it's going to - to be really, really - quick.'
Jack, more sharply aware now, realises that the Doctor's voice is very slightly creaky, as if he's holding something back. He registers how much this is turning the Doctor on, too, that the dom facade is fun, but he's taken control only in order to lose it more thoroughly later. He reaches his left hand down, and feels for the Doctor's cock.
Again, the jolt, like his fingers were charged with electricity. Now the Doctor has tensed up, and he looks like he might back away again. Jack meets his eyes, and strokes him again, unhurriedly, along his thigh, his cock, and his taut abdomen.
The Doctor's eyes have half-closed. He looks like he still can't, quite, accept this. But there's a demon in Jack that makes him grin and go back and run his hand once more along the Doctor's cock. The Doctor has lost focus on what he was doing to Jack, though he hasn't withdrawn his thumb yet. He exhales, suddenly, as Jack grips him properly, begins to move faster. Even with his off-hand, he is expert at this.
'You wanna fuck me?'
And he's reversed the dynamic, now the Doctor has to answer to him. And the Doctor is finding this less easy by a long way. His eyes are still averted.
'Huh?' Jack is smiling, about to laugh, his hand still moving, keeping the touch light and speedy and not quite enough.
'Can't hear you.'
The Doctor opens his eyes properly and met Jack's. His pupils are wide, and he looks - lost. And like he's enjoying being lost.
'Yes. Yes, Jack.'
'So come on, then. Fuck me.' It's a challenge, almost a power game. Jack is really enjoying being the one to give orders and set the pace. He stops stroking, abruptly, partly to ensure the Doctor's full attention. 'Condom, though.'
'Ianto and I have an agreement,' said Jack, rolling to reach for the bottom drawer, finally losing contact with the Doctor's lubed hand. The Doctor kneels on the bed, looking slightly worried. 'Which is to say, we've agreed that you use a condom.'
'Right. Yes.' Jack is inwardly grateful that he doesn't have to explain this further, because who the hell knows how safer sex works for Timelords? So he does that trick with his mouth to get it on, and when he looks up the Doctor's eyes seem to have rolled back slightly, like he's going to faint.
'Where did you learn that?'
'You wouldn't believe me,' said Jack. 'Also, who cares?'
'Um - how ...?' The Doctor is not at all sure where to go next. It has been a long time. Jack gets the lube applied and his legs over the Doctor's shoulders without fatally breaking the moment.
With Jack steering it's not too fumbling, and then there is the magic moment when the Doctor is inside and they both gasp in perfect unison. Jack bites his lip again, arching his neck, and this time he's free to move so he edges down, gently, taking more. It doesn't hurt - he's too practised - but it's feeling a hell of a lot better than the Doctor's thumb. The Doctor gets the idea, places his hands on Jack's calves and begins to move, only slightly, pinned as he is by the position he's in. But he really doesn't need to move that much because
' - oh fuck yes! - '
Jack feels him nudge that place again and shudders slightly, willing himself to breathe and relax and not come yet, just keep moving with him. Again the disjointed spilt-second of I'm getting fucked. He's fucking me. Oh god. He sees that the Doctor isn't looking at him, his eyes have found something beyond seeing, so he reaches up and grips the Doctor's left hand with his right, squeezes it. I'm here. Stay with me.
Their eyes meet, the Doctor staring down at him as if he was perfect and beautiful and totally right, and locked like that they speed up. The Doctor's right hand finds Jack's cock, which is once again slightly softened, but hardens and grows almost instantly from his touch. Rather inexpertly, the Doctor begins to grip and move, tugging gently, up and down, not quite fast enough or hard enough, but
' - yeah - oh fuck yeah - '
Jack reaches to take the Doctor's hand and wraps his own round it, increases the pace. They're so close, there's seconds now before -
'Wanna come for me?' Jack gasps.
The Doctor nods, once, his hair sticking to his forehead. His eyes are closed again. Jack takes one deep breath, holds it, and lets himself begin to fall over the edge, deliberately tensing and relaxing his muscles fast and tight around the Doctor's cock till he feels it happen -
Jack gives a yell, sudden and shocking and raw. The Doctor bites back something, and comes in almost silence, his breathing gone frantic, his face twisting.
The aftershocks pulse down to shivering, and Jack is aware a mild sensation of not-quiteness, and of cum on his chest, and of sweat sticking them together everywhere their skin is touching. The Doctor has gone totally relaxed, his head falling forward as if he's completely drained.
Jack manouevres him down beside him onto the bed, cradling him, the Doctor's head against his shoulder. Jack kisses him on the forehead, tastes his sweat, strokes him reassuringly.
No words. There aren't any. Only breaths that might be 'oh, yeah' and 'mmmmhm'.
Jack stares up at the ceiling, his hand still in the Doctor's hair. He's not sure if he's going to cry. The Doctor seems to have gone to sleep, or to have relaxed into somewhere safe in his own mind where he can process what just happened. Sighing, Jack ruffles his hair.
'Hm?' He looks up, immediately alert.
'Nothin'. Just - ' Jack can't repress his grin. 'That was good.'
'Yes. For me too.' The Doctor half sits up, kisses Jack's face. Are there tears? And if so, whose? 'Jack?'
'Yeah?' Afterglow seems to be happening. Jack feels he could lie here and treasure this for ever.
'This is going to sound very very odd, but - '
'Are there any fish fingers?'
* * *
'What?' asks the Doctor, aware of Jack's look.
'Most people just light a cigarette. Fish fingers is a new one on me.'
The Doctor has pulled his shirt and trousers back on and raided Gwen's freezer. Jack is comfortably naked, leaning against the kitchen units with his arms folded. He stood in silence while the microwave was whirring, but he can't quite forbear comment now.
'I like fish fingers.'
He may just be doing this because it's familiar and reassuring. Or he may actually be totally unaware of the incongruity. Or he might be hungry. Jack senses that he's never going to be quite sure with this man.
He's eating them with his fingers. Watching him should not, really, be quite that hot.
'Everything tastes different. It is different.' The Doctor screws up his face. 'Not bad, though, just - different.' He smiles. Jack feels a tiny shudder of not-quite-finished-yet tension. Ooh.
'You're telling me. Hey, what time is it?'
The Doctor glances at the clock on the microwave, frowns at it.
'Four fifty-six. Why?'
Jack makes a dash for the bedroom, tries to find his phone in his trouser pockets. Nothing. Increasingly frantic, he tries the various pockets of the clothes on the floor, including the ones that aren't his. Nothing. The mussed-up bed. Nothing.
From the living room, there is Jack's ringtone. Then a voice.
'Hullo, Gwen? This is the Doctor.'
He's pacing up and down, eating the last fish finger, chatting to Gwen on Jack's mobile, which was (of course) in his overcoat pocket where he'd left it.
'Just - the Doctor. I'm with Jack.'
Jack returns to the living room, gesturing give-it-here. The Doctor turns his back, looking amused.
'Yes, we are actually. Yes. Would you? Oh, take him somewhere expensive, I'm sure Jack can afford it.' Without looking round, he dodges Jack's lunge for the phone and turns on the spot, smiling wickedly. Jack mouths 'bastard' at him. He eats the last of the fish finger, licks stray crumbs from his fingers. 'Hm? Yes, I probably am.' The severe look is back. There is a longish pause and then the Doctor laughs. 'Did he? I'll have to ask him. OK, yes. Yes, good to talk to you too. Bye Gwen. Bye.'
Jack has folded his arms again.
'What'd she tell you?'
The Doctor sat down on the sofa, looked up at him.
'Nothing I didn't know. Though, really, keeping a hand in a jar for years is a bit, well - ' he lowered his voice as if to keep anyone from overhearing, '- weird.'
Even when he's being a bastard he looks vulnerable. Jack can't decide whether to pursue this or not.
'So why'd you send her to get Rhys? You could just go.' He's aware, the instant the words are out, that he doesn't want the Doctor to leave, not yet. But he's said it now, so he has to look accusing and severe.
'Because I - '
The Doctor looks up, suddenly at a loss. Jack finishes the sentence for him
'You wanna do it again?'
'Oooh. Well...' Jack teases him, pretending to consider.
'It's all right,' and the Doctor is on his feet, clearly ready for a swift getaway, already patting his pockets and glancing round for his jacket. 'I can head back, the Tardis will have - '
Jack decides to stop fooling, it's clearly wasted on the Doctor.
'- charged up by now...what?'
'Come here.' And Jack stepped over, grabbed him and kissed him again, fiercely, determined to make staying worth his while.
Now the initial edge is taken off, they are both slower, the Doctor seeming properly relaxed again. Now he's kissing for the sake of kissing, not just because it moves things on.
'So,' Jack asked, when they ease up for a second - the Doctor still leaning on the back of Gwen's sofa - 'what d'you wanna do now?'
'Wanna try taking it for a change?'
The Doctor's eyes dart away, as if he's checking for an escape route.
'That's - I've actually never done that.'
'Never?' Jack is frankly shocked.
The Doctor's eyes flicked away again, looking down. 'Never got round to it...'
'Good thing you came to me.' He kissed him for a second. 'So if you've never taken it - how did you know...?'
'How did you do that thing with your thumb?'
'Read about it somewhere,' he said. 'Why, was that all right?'
Jack nibbled at his neck. 'Uh, yeah.'
'Fine. Just checking.'
'Gimme a chance and I can show you exactly how good that was.'
The Doctor may be hesitating, but Jack's quite serious now, and looks determined. He has his own reasons for believing this is going to work. 'C'mon. Bed.'
In the bedroom, Jack pulls the Doctor back to the bed, sits down facing him, pulls the Doctor towards him, and calmly undoes the Doctor's trousers. The Doctor, finally cool with this much intimacy, pulls his hands through Jack's hair and Jack, very slowly, presses his face against him, inhales sensuously, and then starts to kiss him - his abdomen, the triangle of hair - oddly light in colour and fragrant with that non-human scent - and his cock.
Jack is, naturally, very good at this. You don't rattle round the universe getting laid for this long without learning pretty much all the tricks you can do with tongue and teeth, with licking and tasting and stopping and licking again. Working without haste through his repertoire, he works round to the right move, the one that's gonna work best on this particular body. He does it once and gets the reaction he's been wanting, the Doctor's knees give slightly, and he stops, smiles, does it again. And once more. Now he's hard again, the Doctor's moving, shy of pushing too much, too fast, but Jack's easily good enough to work with this and does so.
Sitting, his legs apart, his hands running over the Doctor's lower back and thighs, he is entirely focussed on what he's doing, the response he's getting, and on how cute the Doctor looks right now, his shirt rucked up and his face ethereally turned on. When Jack draws an actual moan from him - a proper ohyes moan, not a suppressed gasp - he changes tack instantly.
'On the bed.' Pause. Mistrustful eyes. 'I'm not gonna hurt you. Promise.'
The Doctor sits on the bed, almost instinctively crossing his ankles and hugging his knees. He looks - defended.
Jack takes this in, considers him.
'Look, we don't have to. Not if you don't want to. We can do something else.' Maybe he was wrong about this.
'No, I want to, but - '
'Oh, yeah. I'm not the one with all that celibacy to work off!' And this time cheap humour seems to be the answer, the Doctor smiles, and reaches out a hand. Jack leans into another long kiss, slowly, avoiding the pouncing thing he can do with Ianto because he knows well enough what Ianto wants, finds himself propped awkwardly on one elbow and leaning across the Doctor's body. They lie kissing for a little. Then Jack becomes businesslike.
'Ok. Lesson one. Fingers first. Oh, wait,' he laughed, 'you worked that one out for yourself.'
The Doctor is still looking at him, interested and wary, as if he's about to explain his Special Secret Plan for Taking Over The Universe.
'Lesson two. It's about breathing. You have to breathe right. Now,' Jack locates the lube from wherever it was, 'you might need to take those off.'
Quickly, the Doctor strips again. He looks deliciously vulnerable and is still quite hard. Jack, who is now in full initiation mode, is much less bothered about his own state of arousal, which is more of an itch now than a full-on ache. He kneels between the Doctor's legs.
'OK, deep breath.'
The Doctor inhales like he's jumping into water, and Jack slips his index finger between his buttocks. Tension.
'Not gonna hurt you. Trust me.'
He uses one lubed fingertip, circling, working on that tension til the Doctor eventually exhales, and Jack feels a slight relaxation and goes with it.
Jack is nodding, keeping eye contact, preternaturally aware of the signals he's getting. This dance is one he knows. If straight boys tend to swing that way for you, you learn how to do this.
'Ok...ok - how's that?'
The Doctor is looking at somewhere else again. From far away he mutters 'Good.'
'Yeah...bit more?' He moves his fingertip with the words, slides inside just a fraction. Instantly, the Doctor tenses again. Jack goes back to circling, patiently waiting for it to be OK. 'Hey.' His free hand strokes the Doctor's leg. 'It's all right. I promise, you'll like it.'
The Doctor looks up at him - lips parted, eyebrows raised.
'I know.' And that seems to have been the magic word, he breathes out again and Jack can slip in once more. This time, past the tight rings of muscle, and he can feel - oh...
'I can feel your pulse.'
Du-du-du-dum, du-du-du-dum, light and rapid by his fingertip. And now he's in, he can slip deeper, up to the third joint of his finger, and feel for that spot -
The Doctor gasps, twitches, his hands clench on the duvet. Jack smiles down at him.
'What the fuck - ?'
'Told ya. Like it?'
'Oh - oh oh oh - what are you doing?'
Jack, having got this far, is beckoning, tracing over that spot.
'It feels like - o-oh!'
Pause. Jack slows down, takes it gently. The Doctor is looking up at him, his face full of frank appeal.
'I want to - oh - I want you to keep doing that.' It's practically an order.
'Mmm?' Jack tilts his head on one side. The power game is still on, then. 'And if I don't?'
The Doctor arches his neck, too hot or possibly too frustrated to speak.
'Huh?' Jack teases, moving his finger very, very slightly.
'Just don't stop - '
Jack stops. Just for a second, just for the dislocated furious desperate look he gets. And starts again before the Doctor can get two words together.
'A-h! You - '
Jack is loving the effect he's having. Moved by fine intuition, he draws his finger out, slips his middle finger inside parallel with the first - slowly, not too rough. Another heart-wrenching gasp tells him he's right. He speeds up again - not too fast, back into a steady rhythm - and watches the Doctor, who is getting pleasingly flushed and moving his head and shoulders about. Not daring to writhe his lower body in case Jack stops again, his hands gripping on the duvet hard - oh yes, that's hot.
'Jack - I want - '
Jack can see where this is going.
The noises the Doctor is making have finally, very sexily, left the natural register of his voice and strayed into high-pitched, pleading sounds.
'I want - oh - I want to come. Now.'
'Hands are busy,' Jack laughs - his left is stroking his own cock, which is twitching interestedly at this unbelievably pleasing sight.
The Doctor gives a small gasp through clenched teeth, and begins almost hesitantly to touch his own cock. He's astonshingly incompetent at this - probably more so than any man Jack has ever slept with. Jack finds himself thinking, it's been years... The Doctor finds his rhythm after a little, and begins to move with it, Jack keeping pace, with his fingers curling and straightening harder now.
'Yes.' The Doctor is edging the words out through his teeth. 'Yes. Yes - yes. Jack, yes. I - oh - Jack, I - '
Jack feels it almost before the Doctor does, the sudden throb under his fingertips. He speeds up to a fast, hard pace and - oh wow - the Doctor gives something between a moan and a howl, clenches on his fingers, thrashes distractedly, his head flinging back, his entire body moving. Jack, focussed and totally involved, watches his face, sees the cum which falls in drops on his chest and stomach.
The Doctor slows down, stops flailing, starts to breathe deeper than ever. Jack stills his fingers. Moving with the spasmodic aftershocks which lock ands relax round them, he draws out, very carefully.
Then he has rolled down beside the Doctor and is holding him, his own excitement put away for later, cradling the Doctor and kissing him gently, murmuring - I'm here, you're all right, I've got you, you're good - till the Doctor's breathing stills a bit.
There is a single glistening drop of cum on his cheekbone. Jack licks it off, his mouth filling with saliva from the sheer sensuality of this, of tasting him.
'You taste good,' he sighs, very softly.
'Mmhm.' Jack presses his face against the Doctor's hair and breathes in deeply.
'That was - ' begins the Doctor
'I know. It's OK, I know.' The Doctor relaxes, rolls on his side to hug Jack properly, and not just hug, but cling to him hard. Jack's head is singing.
This, he judges, is the least wrong moment. Shouldda said it before now, really.
Very quietly, he breathes, 'I love you.'
He was never quite sure - and he wondered about this for more years than can be counted - if the Doctor genuinely didn't hear him, or just pretended not to.
* * *
The Doctor looks alert again. Ready for the next thing, whatever it turns out to be.
'How about you?'
'Huh?' Jack was drifting, sleepily luxuriating in their closeness.
'We can - if you want?'
'Oh - yeah.'
Jack was going to say no, but - mmm, nakedness next to him. And the recalled look of the Doctor, writhing and moaning because of him. He feels the resurgence of excitement.
'Mmmm.' He bites his lip, smiles. 'Well, maybe.'
He extends a hand to grip his cock, which is beginning to grow hard. The Doctor looks interestedly at him.
'Anything I can do?'
'Uh - look beautiful?'
And - oh god that's hot - the Doctor flicks his hair back and actually tries to pose.
You have no idea how many ways I'd do you, Jack thought, jerking rhythmically, his teeth clenching. You are fucking gorgeous, you bastard, do you have any idea how hot you get me?
'God, you're hot,' he muttered, giving the edited version. Oh, this is going to be quick, he can feel it, feel the gathering of arousal like a muscle tensing.
'Nah.' The Doctor contrives to look like he has no idea that he's pretty. Looking down at Jack, he's fascinated, and his pupils widen again. It's arousing. Primal. Incomprehensible. Silent and obscure.
'Oh, I wanna - ' the sentence wasn't finished, and the Doctor immediately wanted to know what he was going to say. Jack is usually so easy to read, and earlier everything he did was clear, the purpose was comprehensible. Now he's lapsed into this near-silence, and the Doctor doesn't know whay he's thinknig. And - not having made this sort of erotic connection with anybody in what feels like forever - he's forgotten what you're supposed to do and he's intensely curious. Possibly a little worried. And fascinated.
'Jack - '
I would so pin you down and fuck you if you wanted -
'Jack, listen - '
'Shut up! I'm trying to fucking jerk off here.' It was half a joke, but a second orgasm took some concentration. Jack shut his eyes, going back to earlier - getting fucked, and the brush of the Doctor's thumb, and oh yes making him come hard and intense...
And the Doctor murmurs in his ear, his voice burning with sensuality and mischief, 'Tell me.'
'Tell me what you'd do.'
'I wanna do things to you that you can't fucking imagine,' Jack growls, working on the buildup and speaking more or less automatically. 'I wanna make you so hot for it - I wanna make you come in my mouth - '
'Oh - yes. And?'
'I really wanna fuck you,' and the Doctor's hands are running over him, experimentally teasing his nipples and his balls oh yes there, yes,
'...roll you over and fuck you hard - '
The Doctor gets up on one elbow, an awkward move that throws Jack for a second. Than he's half on top of Jack, kissing his neck, his face, his lips, whispering 'Yes?'
'- oh, I'm gonna - oh, yeah - !'
Jack came, every muscle in him tensing, his toes twisting and his hand still moving frantically, and all the time the Doctor was kissing him, breath against his face, oh yes -
Jack comes down, sweating and gasping. The Doctor hugs him tight, but the connection has broken, Jack can feel it. He might cry, but not now. Definitely not now. He hugs back, putting every ounce of himself into it, because he's already feeling the dread of separation in the pit of his stomach. He doesn't know what happens next.
* * *
Eventually - sooner than he wants but later than he should have - he breaks away. The Doctor looks at him for a moment, then starts to get up.
Jack lies there, sweaty, dishevelled, wanting something more, something that isn't going to happen. The Doctor finds his trousers and scrambles back into them. Jack, to prove how much he isn't bothered, gets up too, makes an effort to make the bed look undisturbed. Feeling suddenly vulnerable, he looks for his own clothes.
'I should get back.'
'Yeah.' Jack sounds a little too enthusiastic, to conceal his feelings.
'I need to sort things out with Amy. Fortunately, she has a fiance, so unless I'm really, really wrong - '
'Uh huh.' Jack isn't even listening, he's putting his clothes on hastily. I just told you I love you...
' - that should be the easy bit.'
The Doctor is putting that godawful bow tie on in front of Gwen's make-up mirror. He catches sight of Jack's reflection, sees some pain Jack was trying not to show. He turns abruptly.
'Jack. Listen. Thank you.'
Jack shrugs, smiles. 'Ah, no - '
'Really. That was - nice.'
Jack nods, accepting that "nice" is as good as he gets. Too proud to say it again, Harkness? he reproaches himself. Yeah, thought so.
'Now, you - go back, see Ianto. I'll see you again.'
Jack unlocks the front door for him. One final kiss, bitter now because it's the last. And the Doctor is gone.
* * *
The sky is dark over Cardiff. Somewhere, off down his own personal timeline, the Doctor is having a chat with a diabetic stripper called Lucy. Ianto is making tea for his sister. And when Gwen finally gets in, she finds Jack sitting on her sofa, staring at nothing. She opens a bottle of wine and sends Rhys - who is being very understanding - to bed, and Jack finally tells her the whole story.