Relict (13/16?, DW, 9/J/R, Adult - note that I said adult, right? I'm not kidding)
Beta: wendymr
Chapter One - Bazaar | Chapter Two - Maintenance | Chapter Three - Off-Balance | Chapter Four - Whirl | Chapter Five - Shadows | Chapter Six - Latency | Chapter Seven - Ritual | Chapter Eight - Unpredictable | Chapter Nine - Reverberation | Chapter Ten - Propogation | Chapter Eleven - Diffraction | Chapter Twelve - Refraction
Chapter Thirteen - Diffusion
The cool fingertips brushing the channel of his spine made him moan into the kiss that was demanding all his attention, and he might almost have been embarrassed by the shiver that passed over his skin, his hips arching in involuntary response against the taut body beneath him, had the loss of control not felt so good. Smooth skin, hard muscles, lips, tongue, teeth, cock, long-fingered hands, a faint rasp of hair… all human-like, all familiar, and yet somehow new. He stretched one hand to cradle the vaulted skull, the other sliding up the lean thigh that rose against his hip, and he felt a flush of warmth chased by a coolness that was both erotic and off-putting. He was too aware of the tension underneath, around him, and it seemed nothing he did could ease it.
Catching his breath, Jack lifted his head, glimpsing the tightness between the Doctor’s eyebrows before the mercurial eyes opened, encouragingly dilated, a little smoky, a little too intense. “Relax,” Jack whispered comfortingly, his thumb sliding along the inner blade of a hipbone. “I know what I’m doing.”
Eyes rolled at his broad grin, and Jack felt himself regaining a little control. He felt a little give in the tension, the body beneath him settling into the bed, rather than on it, and a distinct throb against his belly.
Two or three kisses had been enough for him to get them both naked, and he’d shown amazing restraint, Jack thought, not to go down on the Doctor immediately, but to ease him fully onto the bed. He’d been surprised that the Doctor was letting him take the lead, without being exactly passive, but Jack had also thought being on top was at least moderate insurance against the Time Lord bolting unexpectedly. He was well aware that the Doctor was aroused, if not yet as achingly hard as Jack was himself, and he wondered if the slower metabolism was responsible for the slower response, but the uneasiness rubbing against the edges of his mind, an unsteady ebb and flow, suggested something else.
“Turn over,” Jack half-ordered, half-suggested, as he pushed up on his hands and knees over the Doctor. The sudden wave of uncertainty made him nauseous, and he dropped his head, taking a deep breath as the reaction drained away. A second breath cleansed away the unpleasant sensation, and he raised his head.
“I’m sorry, Jack.” The Doctor’s apology was genuine, almost that of a little boy caught red-handed in a very bad deed, his strong face transparently reflecting regret and concern. “This is a bad idea.”
“No, no, no.” Jack shook his head, holding up a hand. “It’s not. And it’s not what you think. Just trust me, okay? Turn over.”
The Doctor looked at him warily, but actually did what he asked, to Jack’s considerable amazement and relief.
“I’m starting to get a little bit more of this.” His conversational tone helped Jack keep himself steady as he carefully positioned himself on his knees astride the narrow hips as the Doctor folded his arms beneath the pillow. His eyes were closed as he turned his head to the side, and Jack could feel the tension rising around him again. He reached out to put his hands on the scarred shoulder blades, rubbing firmly but gently across bunched muscles. “You’ve got some pretty significant psi powers - no surprise there - and they’re mixed up with your libido somehow. That natural for your people?”
There was a soft grunt as Jack’s palms slid down firmly on either side of the spine, bumping over contracted muscles almost as hard as the ribs they supported. “Hard to say. Lot of cultural effort put into developing the mental side of things. Sexual reproduction wasn’t encouraged, too much left up to chance. Kind of fell out of favour. Unfgh.”
“That doesn’t sound like much fun,” Jack observed, and was pleasantly surprised by the snort from beneath him.
“No kidding. Bigger bunch of uptight, pompous aristo-bureaucrats you’ve never met.”
Jack grinned, leaning down to brush his lips across a sharp cheekbone as his hands came up to the nape of the Doctor’s neck, thumbs probing the bunches of muscles at the base of the skull. A soft moan from the Doctor, a subtle press of his body into the mattress, and a burst of pleasure spilled over Jack like warm water, provoking a little moan in echo. He leaned down to kiss the knot at the top of the Doctor’s spine and whisper, “So, something tells me you were a bit of a rebel.”
“A bit,” conceded the Doctor, and Jack could tell his eyes were twinkling even when they were closed. “Still, never really one for sex, me, until…”
“Until Rose?”
“Until my wife.”
Jack’s hands stilled for a brief moment in surprise, but he kept kneading, watching the subtle shadow of loss pass over the Doctor’s face.
“After she was gone, I had other things to think about. Mostly.”
Jack was uncertain whether to smile at that well-timed adverbial addition, but he also had no intention of letting the Doctor slip back into the comparative safety of grief. He was just about to prompt him when more information was volunteered, in a combination of amazement and amusement.
“Bloody evolutionary imperatives - managed to wipe out half o’ creation in the Time War, ‘n’ woke up hard.”
Jack laughed, stretching to reach a small bottle of oil on the bedside cabinet and rubbed a bit between his palms. “Makes sense.” He brought his hands slowly and firmly down on either side of the spine, thumbs pressing down against the tailbone in a way he knew was pleasurable in most vertebrates, and the doubt worrying at the edges of his mind receded a little.
“'S not why, Jack,” he said, turning his head to rest his forehead against the pillow as he lifted his shoulders slightly into the hard push of Jack’s palms.
“Why what?” Jack wasn’t sure if he’d lost track of the conversation, but kept his voice low and encouraging.
“Rose.” The name trailed off into a moan as Jack found the spot at the base of his spine.
Jack raised an eyebrow and was amused when the Doctor seemed to know that, even with his eyes closed and his head turned away.
“No, I mean it, Jack. She was just -” He took a deep breath, then released it in a gust, half-sigh, half-huff. “A pain in the arse, really. But quick. And brave.”
“And very cute.”
The Doctor made a soft growl into the pillow, muttering. “Didn’t even notice she was female until our second stop.”
“Oh, God, why can I soooo believe that?” Jack chuckled, resting his forehead against the back of the Doctor’s head as he leaned forward to work the nape of his neck.
The Doctor growled again, but Jack could feel the amusement. The vague miasma of unease had receded further from his mind, and when he found a particularly tough knot with his thumbs and worked at it, a salmon-tinted warmth suffused him.
“Relax,” he encouraged by the syneaesthetic response, falling into a slow, rocking rhythm that he accompanied with a soft, soothing voice. “I understand. Lots of power, not a lot of practice using it. Makes perfect sense.”
The Doctor grunted softly, relaxing into the bed enough to embrace the pillow beneath his head, and Jack felt a slight heat at the base of his spine, a whisper along his nerve endings that was tentative, but definitely pleasurable.
“That explains the Tirsuan,” he continued, letting his thigh muscles relax enough that he was almost sitting on the back of the Doctor’s thighs, weight resting on his own heels. “Their dominant culture’s developed some really strong psi disciplines. Almost more like poetry or dance than pure martial art. The Time Agency used some of them as a basis for their psi training.” He lightened his stroke into a caress, up over the shoulderblades, fingertips skimming the burn scar.
The Doctor tensed beneath him again, and Jack made a soothing sound, bending down to brush his lips across the disfigurement. The scar tissue was obscenely smooth. “Don’t,” he said softly, then lifted his head, resuming his slow rhythm. “I got top marks in psi training. Just so you know.”
The Doctor squirmed a little as Jack moved his hands along the stripes of scars.
“You don’t have to tell me about these, not unless you want to. But don’t think they’re going to put me off, either. They’re not ugly. Not that way, anyway.” His fingertips lightened as they traced over the rise and curve of the Doctor’s bum, and he could see and, somehow, feel the slight shiver of pleasure in the caress. He bowed down to brush a kiss in the small of the back, following the spine upward. As he moved, his erection nudged between the taut buttocks, and he felt the flare of uncertainty in his mind. “No,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to the unburned shoulder. “Don’t.” He kissed the base of the skull, his lips brushing across soft hair and warm skin. “Stop.” He nuzzled the sensitive hollow behind one big ear, smiling as its soft edge brushed his cheek. “Really powerful words. Use any one of ‘em, and pfft!, like magic, I’ll stop.”
He could feel the relaxation coming in stages, like rusty cogs jerking into movement, and Jack eased himself down on his hip and elbow on the bed, still half on top of him in a loose embrace, arm across shoulders, knee across thighs. He could feel the resistance still battling, it seemed, with itself rather than the arousal, banked down beneath it. Jack gazed at the strong profile, the cheekbones casting shadows softened by the glowing light, and he kept up the firm rub of his thumb at the top of the spine.
“You’ve had such a tight grip on things for so long, you’re afraid if you let go, it’ll all fly apart.” He kept his voice low and rhythmic, soothing, even though his own desire gave his words a seductive tone. “So let it.”
The eyes that turned to him had sudden blues that he didn’t think he’d ever seen. Like interminable summer twilights from his childhood, flashing with heat lightning and the native fireflies. When the Doctor spoke, it was with a warning tone. “I can’t ask that, Jack.”
“You don’t have to ask.” Jack echoed his earlier offer, and his hand firmly urged the Doctor to turn toward him. The hesitation, rather than resistance, encouraged him, and he moved closer, a light embrace as he brushed lips to lips. He already knew the Time Lord could kiss, and the receptive opening of the mouth, the cool dart of a tongue brought him closer. He wound his ankle around the Doctor’s as he deepened the kiss, his hand smoothing down the curve of the spine to the rise of the round bum. A soft moan gasped into his mouth, a little tension easing in the body against his, and Jack felt the irritation against his mind flow suddenly into a silken slip, like cool water against heated skin.
“Oooh, that’s good,” he murmured, deep in his chest, and the Doctor moaned in harmony, the velvet rasp of his tongue against Jack’s echoing against his mind. “I’ll take more of that.” Jack shivered, pushing closer and was slightly surprised at the way he found himself on top of the Doctor again, not quite sure whether it was his own aggression or the Doctor’s submission. Not that he cared, given the silver-sweet-slippery sensation sliding over his skin, or the long fingers sliding through his hair, sending trills of pleasure along his nervous system.
Jack slid his lips over the lifting chin, his teeth grazing the pulse down the long, arched throat. His hands explored the thin, but nonetheless sharply-defined muscles of the torso beneath him as his mouth moved down. The synaesthetic surges receded slightly, lapping at his mind like a gentle surf, and as he followed the fine line of nearly invisible hair down from the sharp sternum, he smiled.
“Why are you smiling?” asked the Doctor softly, his fingers combing through Jack’s hair, loosening his carefully tousled style with a gentle, massaging motion that made Jack want to purr.
Jack traced the neat indentation with a fingertip and he grinned up at the Doctor. “Still got a belly-button.”
“Yeah,” he drawled lazily. “You’ve still got an appendix.”
Jack grinned and turned almost casually to brush a kiss against the erection rising by his cheek. The cool-warm velvet sensation against his lips seemed to flow over his entire skin, and he moaned, slipping down to take him in his mouth. The taut body went rigid for a moment, but Jack’s firm hands along the long thighs, pushing them back, seemed to ease him.
He loved this, always had, never understood why it ever was considered submissive or an obligation by anyone in any time, although his recent trip to 1940s Earth had reminded him of the prejudice with a vengeance. At this moment, the pleasure of the warm, pulsing life in his mouth was almost overwhelmingly amplified by his awareness of the vulnerability of the powerful creature who was trusting him. The lapping surf grew more restless, as if a storm were coming, and Jack reached for a hand, lacing their fingers with an encouraging squeeze. The surging wave seemed to roll him over, making him lose his bearings for a moment, and Jack pulled back slowly, smiling approvingly at the increased length. He let his tongue linger at the tip before releasing it with a soft kiss. He expected to look up into dark blue eyes; they were clear in his head, but instead, he saw a long, arched throat and tense jaw.
“Hey,” he said softly, squeezing a thigh as he lifted up slightly, and he got the gaze he had anticipated, and swift breath he hadn’t. “Listen. Just let go. Let’s get the edge off, and then we can work on style points, how’s that?”
For a moment, Jack expected resistance, but he felt the waves buffeting at him, the stormy blue eyes flashing lightning, but anchoring him. He fought the instinct to close his eyes, holding that intense gaze as he sank down again, changing the angle, his free hand coming up to cradle the balls that nestled closer to the Doctor’s body than Jack was used to in a mammalian species. He was aware that the lower body temperature undoubtedly had something to do with the evolutionary differential, but the overwhelming majority of his consciousness was filled with soft skin, a satisfying weight, and the polyrhythm of a double pulse against his palm and tongue. He turned his hand, stretching his fingers to stroke, then rub against warmer, smoother skin underneath, and the flicker of sandy eyelashes gave him a surge of pleasure that made Jack moan, pushing against the bed with hips and toes for leverage. The fingers around his tightened, the pulse tripped asymmetrically, and Jack relaxed his throat…
***
Rose tightened her hands on the pillow crushed beneath her head and opened one reluctant eye to read the red digits of the alarm clock that glowed softly in the near dark. Even now, it took a moment or two for her to realize it wasn’t the clock radio she’d had since she was eleven that was proclaiming 3:27, but the mock version that the TARDIS had provided when she was unable to read the water clock and kept forgetting to wind the old-fashioned brass alarm clock with the jangling bells on top.
She felt sticky and hot from crying. She was still curled up on top of the duvet, her cheeks flushed and tight from dried tears, and she had a bit of a headache, but as she moved her knees away from her breasts, she also realized she was horny as hell. Clenching her teeth on a curse, she punched the pillow as she sat up, running her hand through hair she expected to be tangled, but instead it ran through her fingers like water. She shivered subtly at the sensual sensation and swung her legs around to the edge of the bed, almost irritated by the little twinge of pleasure as she pushed up onto her feet. Snatching clean underthings from her dresser, she went into the adjoining bathroom, turning on the light to a low glow. She took a phial of bath oil from the package Liane had put together for her and started the bath. As she leaned over to turn on the tap, she felt a little nauseous - probably because she hadn’t eaten in hours, she thought crossly - and she sat down on the edge of the tub, fiddling with the little glass stopper for a moment before setting the bottle on the rim and reaching for the vanilla candle that sat on the glass shelf on the tile wall. A twinge in the muscles of her back seemed inappropriately connected to a pulse of arousal, and she sent spiteful thoughts at the Doctor for running her ragged and then sending her to bed like she was a child.
***
The flash throughout his body was surprising enough to make Jack gasp, choke a little, even as it evaporated immediately… as if all the oxygen had suddenly been sucked away, stealing the fire and leaving only the afterthoughts of sparks dancing across his skin, tantalizingly ambivalent as to pain or pleasure. An inordinate wave of relief, like the euphoric cessation of torment, rolled over him, and he was still trying to find his balance when he found himself on his hands and knees, his breathing halfway between cough and wheeze, a pleasingly bitter-salt taste on his lips and tongue.
The Doctor had curled his long legs beneath him, sitting up so that he could rub Jack’s back soothingly. “Here,” he said gently, a hand under Jack’s chest pushing him into a more upright position. “Try through your nose.”
Jack sat back on his heels, using one good cough to clear his airway, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, lips quirking in a wry smile. “That went well.”
“I’m sorry, Jack,” the Doctor said quietly, his face tired, resigned.
“Hey, nothing to be sorry for,” said Jack with a genuine grin, noting that despite release and resignation, the Doctor was still aroused. “Wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t bad.” He cleared his throat, then rose up on his knees to move a little closer. “Sometimes it takes a little while to get the rhythm with a new partner, especially one who’s trying to hold back.” He put his arm around the Doctor’s shoulders, his hand exploring the tense jawline as he watched his thumb brush across lips swollen from kissing and, if he was not mistaken - and he rarely was in situations of this sort - a little biting. Jack smiled a little, lifting his eyes to the grey-blue gaze. “We know we can dance together. We’ll get there. And you know, you taste fantastic.”
Jack leaned forward, and to his amazement, he was met by the Doctor’s kiss. With a moan of pleasure, he slid his hands across scarred, oiled skin as the Doctor bore him back against the bed, legs and tongues tangling. After a moment of unexpected disorientation, Jack relaxed into the bed, opening his legs and mouth in welcome.
***
The throaty moan was pleasure in itself, her voice vibrating through her body as she arched in the warm, foamy water, hands folded tightly between her knees. She had refused to touch herself, having petulantly and unreasonably decided to refuse to acknowledge the arousal she well knew was the Doctor’s fault, but it seemed unnecessary as her skin seemed alive with some sort of…warm hum…
***
“What do you like, Jack?”
The words were clear and clean, stinging like mint on his tongue, ringing like crystal in his ears, but he missed the resonance of the deep voice in the body against his…
“What do you want?”
His own moan rose to meet the near-growl of the last word against his throat as sharp teeth grazed the stubbled arch of his throat, and Jack’s fingers tightened on the broad shoulders as he took a deep breath, fighting against coming at the very sound of the voice he had inarticulately desired. Before he had fully formed the thought in his brain, large hands were sweeping firmly up his thighs and hips until the long thumbs brushed his nipples and weight was shifted down into his pelvis as the Doctor lifted his head.
“Wow!” Jack gasped, struck anew by the sharp planes and angles of the Doctor’s face, accentuated by the low light, contrasted to the full softness of his parted lips and the inhuman metallic gleam of his painfully blue eyes.
But then that hesitant, little-boy-lost look was so very human as he brought a hand up to run his fingers through Jack’s thick hair, tightening firmly, just the way he liked. “It doesn’t feel like cheating?” he asked, even as he rocked against Jack slowly, skin against skin, pulse against throb in a firm, but tantalizing caress.
Jack smiled, reaching up to frame the hard face in gentle hands. “Having a partner that knows exactly what you want, even before you do? Are you kidding?” His voice dropped, and he purred, “Not if you mean it,” before bringing him down for another kiss.
***
Her slick fingers slipped on the porcelain as she grabbed the side of the tub to pull herself into more of a sitting position, the pain of jamming her little finger perfect for her mood. Her skin felt like it was glowing, and while frustration with the Doctor still nagged at her, she couldn’t quite bring herself to hurry things along.
Bastard, she thought, remembering the eerie glow of his eyes in the dusky temple, the resonance of his voice as he flirted with the priestesses. He could be so goofy sometimes, but when that switch flicked on behind the eyes and the focus was there… She shivered, aware of the warm water lapping at her tightening nipples, and she pulled her knees closer to her chest, wrapping her arms around them protectively.
***
Jack chuckled into their kiss as their legs tangled, knees knocking, and he took the opportunity to shift their weight, rolling on top with a playful nip to the shoulder as his fingers crept up the prominent ribs like stairsteps.
“’M not ticklish, Jack,” murmured the Doctor, nuzzling the tender place between jaw and ear where Jack was most assuredly ticklish.
Jack shivered, instinctively turning his head to protect himself at the same time his fingers found a spot between ribs and shoulder blade that provoked a flash of amused crackling like copper foil crinkling before he found himself under attack. They rolled over like two puppies, nuzzling, nipping, fingers and hands exploring, and Jack burst out laughing as they nearly went over the side of the bed, rescued by some instinctive acrobatic move executed in perfect synchronization, if something less than grace.
“See? Good timing,” declared Jack, sliding his body along the hard planes of the Doctor’s, his hand between them to protect and caress. He had barely thought of it when the Doctor’s hand joined his, and he smiled, bowing his head to capture a kiss before he stopped suddenly. “Wait. You’re not going to seize if we’re in each other’s heads?” he asked, a little breathless from the collision of desire and fear.
The Doctor shook his head against the pillows, his eyes seeming to capture the light. “Nah. The TARDIS has beefed up the psychic shielding since that little incident. And anyway, I’d have to really go poking around in your head for that to happen again. Believe me, I don’t have to work very hard to know what you want.”
Jack grinned, moving his hand up to rub his thumb around the crowns of their cocks together, provoking a pleasurable shiver from them both. “Well - as far as I know, anyway - I’ve got nothing to hide,” he declared, bending down to catch that deferred kiss.
***
Rose made a face at the pruniness of her fingertips and stretched a foot out to flip the stopper out of the tub, pushing up to her feet with a tired sigh. She wrapped herself in a plush white robe, even more lush than usual against her sensitive skin, it seemed, and ran a comb through her hair before returning to her bed. A tinge of uneasiness ran through her arousal, and she slid under the duvet, pulling the big pillow into her arms beneath her head. Her body felt heavy and warm, and part of her wanted to unwind, let go, just feel the pleasure suffusing her. But her anger had dulled to remote feeling of impending loss that reminded her too much of a cold, drafty church and emotions stripped raw from grief.
***
Jack felt his skin tingling as if before a thunderstorm, the air seeming heavy with humidity and electricity, and he wanted nothing more than to give in, roll under the waves of power he felt gathering beneath and around him. Keep it fun, he told himself firmly, even as he shivered at the teeth lightly skimming his jugular.
His fingers dug into the sharp shoulders, and he turned his head to echo the caress. The stubbled skin was salty and still slightly tangy from the phosophorescent air at Zarua, and the double pulse felt swift and shallow, close to the skin beneath his tongue. He exhaled in a low moan, shifting his weight, slipping aside and pushing down, pressing the Doctor down so he could climb over him, his tongue following, seeking out the traces of sweat and pheromones and the spark of life. The undulating texture of skin and scar beneath his fingers, against his nipples and belly and cock, was stimulating, almost unbearably seductive. He lowered himself to feel more, limbs straining, fingers digging into the collarbones he pushed down into the bed, his teeth aching as they followed the curve of neck and throat and shoulder. The ripple of scars seemed to grow move vivid, fire and silk, alive as they stroked his skin, pulling him in tighter, harder…
***
Rose growled as she flung back the duvet, flinging off the robe which had become hopelessly tangled around her as she tossed and turned. Grabbing a pair of flannel pajama trousers from the wardrobe, she shoved her feet into them, barely noticing that the floor had become a little warmer and more yielding than usual. Tugging a t-shirt over her head, she went back to bed, cursing under her breath.
***
He felt the lashes wrap around his body like lightning, searing his sight. The pain rolled over him, ovewhelming him, until suddenly he felt as though he had been tumbled through the turbulence and lifted onto the crest of the wave.
***
Rose turned her face against the pillow, her body tightening. The low-grade arousal was making her grind her teeth, and the room seemed to tilt and sway for a moment as a ripple of pleasure moved out from her belly, dissipating before she could catch it, like a ripple on the surface of a pool.
Just great, she thought, punching the pillow as she readjusted it under head flushed cheek. Despite the rather anti-climactic release, she felt her muscles easing, and she relaxed, slowly uncurling until she was actually stretching beneath the duvet, pointing her toes and arching her back before settling into a comfortable position on her side. Almost immediately, she fell asleep, deep and dreamless.
***
He wasn’t certain which came to him first, the nausea and the bitter, metallic taste in his mouth or the cool fingers massaging his temples. The soft, deep voice washed over him in soothing waves, and he felt the vibrations against his back as the hard chest supported him.
“…deep breaths.”
“’m gonna be sick…”
“That’s all right, just let it go.”
He felt his own words echoing in his head and his stomach lurched. But then he took a deep breath and swallowed, feeling his digestive tract rearrange itself into a more normal configuration despite the burning in his throat. He leaned weakly back, his head falling against a bony shoulder. A cool palm pressed against his forehead, and he was uncomfortably aware of being sticky, but another deep breath brought him further back to himself. The Doctor was kneeling on the bed behind him, arms and legs lightly embracing him. Jack could feel the comparative heat of his own cheek against the Doctor’s and despite his unsteadiness, he felt protected and safe in a way he hadn’t since he was a small child.
“Okay?” The word was almost breathed into his ear, and one hand lightly rubbed his upper arm.
“Yeah.” He took another breath and let his body relax even further into the comfort of the long limbs that closed gently around him.
“Hey, hey.” Curved knuckles lightly brushed his cheekbone, part caress, part awakening stimulation. “You can sleep in a little bit, let’s get you cleaned up.”
He inhaled through his nose, still feeling the burn in his nasal passages and throat, but his head was clearing, and reluctantly, Jack opened his eyes as he was eased off the bed.
He looked down to find the floor with his feet, and swayed in shock not at the vomit, but at the blood.
“You’re all right, you’re all right,” soothed the Doctor softly, holding him up as he guided him to the adjoining bathroom. “It’s not your blood.”
Jack felt his equilibrium and strength returning, but he still wasn’t prepared for his blood-streaked reflection. Not that much, but enough to smear his body, stain his mouth and chin with unmistakable red. And as the Doctor leaned out from behind him to start the shower, Jack’s stomach roiled again at the sight of the scars, a vivid, livid pink-red. At the places where they had been the thickest, deepest on his upper back they had opened up again.
“What happened?” he gasped.
“Psychosomatic reaction,” the Doctor said calmly, testing the water with his hand.
Jack’s hands fisted instinctively, and the muted throb made him look down. “There’s blood under my fingernails,” he said, holding them out in dull horror. “And I can taste it.”
“It’s mostly just transfer, Jack. Don’t worry about it.” The Doctor’s voice was deep, almost tender as he lied. Jack could see it behind his eyes, feel it lying unperturbed beneath the serenity.
The Doctor pulled him under the water, using a soft cloth to wipe his face and chest, and Jack felt the dazed sensation retreating as he watched the cloth move lower. “Shit,” he breathed, his throat raw. “I came?”
“‘s okay,” the Doctor spoke, still in that almost unnervingly tranquil voice. “So did I.” He handed Jack a small cup, and Jack let the shower fill it so that he could rinse out his mouth. The Doctor was gentle but thorough in bathing him, and Jack was momentarily transfixed by watching the Doctor’s dark red blood running away from the torn flesh in rivulets that faded pink down his bowed back.
“It was a relief,” Jack murmured, understanding somehow as he reached out to trace some of the still-sealed scars with his fingertips. “You wanted these.”
“Needed ‘em, yeah.” The Doctor straightened, rinsing out the cloth in the shower spray, then wringing it.
“Atonement?”
“In a way. I didn’t need to get ‘em as much as I needed to take ’em.” He closed his eyes, tilting his head back into the water. Jack watched, mesmerized the image of the water trailing over sharp features and down the long throat - tranquil in a way he had never even imagined.
The Doctor lowered his chin, crystal-blue eyes opening to meet his. “I’m sorry, Jack. But thank you.”
“You feel better.” Jack stepped closer, resting his hands lightly on the narrow hips. “And I’m fine.”
“Except for the vomiting and passing out.” The Doctor raised an eyebrow, and the water took a new route down the bridge of his nose.
“Yeah, but I’m fine now,” Jack insisted with a grin, reaching up to follow the water with a fingertip down to the tip of his nose. “And if I didn’t need to brush my teeth so badly right now, you’d be getting such a kiss…” His voice dropped to a deeper register, rough in his acid-raw throat. “You look so beautiful like this.”
“What, like a drowned rat?” Jack expected the rolled eyes, but the twinkle framed by wet-spiked eyelashes was even better.
“Calm.” Jack dared slide his hands around the Doctor’s waist, bringing their bodies closer together. “Relaxed. Honestly, worth a little blood and vomit.”
“So romantic.” The Doctor pressed a kiss so quickly to Jack’s forehead that Jack wasn’t even sure it really happened before the water was turned off, towels were distributed and used briskly, then the Doctor broke open a new toothbrush, handing it to Jack.
The Doctor leaned a hip against the countertop, carefully watching Jack wield his toothbrush with great enthusiasm. Jack paid attention to his tongue and the roof of his mouth, using a generous capful of mouthwash as well.
“Are you feeling all right?” he asked as Jack swished vigorously.
He nodded before he spat, then refilled his cup with cool water and repeated the process before swallowing another cupful. “What was that, anyway? Just psychic overload?”
“Partly. And probably motion sickness into the bargain. For some reason, the synaesthesia between us seems to manifest as some sort of meteorological oceanic event. You all right?” The last expression of concern seemed to come out of nowhere as the Doctor rubbed Jack’s back comfortingly.
“I’m fine,” Jack reassured him, sliding his arm around the slim waist to bring their bodies together as he kissed him, a deep, lingering, but gentle kiss. “Let’s sic those nanogenes on your back.”
The roles were reversed as Jack shepherded the Doctor back out of the bathroom. The mess had been cleared away and the bed remade with a soft, dark duvet.
Jack sat the Doctor down on the edge of the bed and reached for the little pipe of nanogenes. “So, what exactly did I do to you?”
The Doctor looked up at him in surprise, the golden light of the nanogenes flickering over his face when Jack thumbed the end off the container. “It’s more what I did to you, Jack.”
“I’m not the one bleeding here,” Jack pointed out, setting aside the pipe and sitting on the edge of the bed beside him.
“I’m assuming that making your partner bleed isn’t one of your usual techniques.” That raised eyebrow again, and Jack grinned.
“No. But I don’t really remember it - is it always so overwhelming with a human?”
“No. Well, I don’t think so, I don’t know. I’ve never actually had sex with a human before, and if I haven’t, I can’t imagine there’s a Time Lord out there who has.”
Jack grinned. “Okay, so no even anecdotal evidence.”
“No. But this is a pretty unusual situation, Jack; there are no other Time Lords in my head, not any more. That’s a lot of psychic energy with no place to off-load it. And I’ve never had a sex drive like this before, either. Plus, the ripples from the Time War shifting under me… It’s like juggling with liquid explosives while walking a tightrope swaying in a high wind.”
Jack kept grinning at the analogy, but his hand curved soothingly over the close-shorn head. “So the first time, you drop a little here and there. You’ll get the hang of it.”
“Oh, and you’re going to help me practice?”
Jack laughed wickedly. “You bet.”
“Is there nothing you can’t turn into an opportunity to get laid?”
“Probably not,” Jack replied easily, and chuckled at the Doctor shaking his head. But he waited a moment before venturing, “But since drawing blood really isn’t my thing, I’m assuming that it was something you wanted.”
The Doctor looked down at his hands, silent for a long beat. “I didn’t want it, Jack, but I think I needed it.”
“Can you tell me why?”
Another few moments of silence, and the Doctor flexed his wounded shoulders. Jack examined him briefly, satisfied that the broken skin had closed and snapped his fingers to send the nanogenes back into the pipe. He resealed the cap, then looked back at the downturned profile as the Doctor rubbed the thumb of his right hand into his left palm. Normally, he could see the wheels turning within wheels as the Doctor thought; at this moment, he could see them grinding, catching, winding backward.
Jack took a deep breath and pushed himself backward on the bed, setting the pipe back on the cabinet before stretching out and curling his arm behind him on the pillow, trying to assume, at least, a posture of ease. Tension remained in the bowed back, but not the rigidity of before, and Jack reached out with light fingertips to trace the bumps of the spine.
“You said something like that about these scars before,” he observed calmly, letting his fingertips trail along the too-prominent ribs.
“It was… some time after the War.” The Doctor’s voice was hoarse, but his tone was almost detached. “I ran across someone, someone like Aliala and her brother… Someone who’d lost everything and everyone because of me.”
Jack’s fingers hesitated as he remembered the girl in the forest, her bewilderment, her fear, her loss.
“He had been alone so long, and the anger and pain had become so great that it had consumed him. He didn’t want to kill me. Killing me would be too easy, and he couldn’t punish me in kind, because I had no world, no people left to lose.” The Doctor’s voice broke so slightly someone else might not have heard it. Jack barely dared breathe, afraid he might interrupt the recitation. “He didn’t need revenge. Not really. He just needed to scream out against the darkness and the end of Time as he knew it, and I could give him that.”
Jack felt the echo of the waves that had overwhelmed him, sweeping orgasm on the back of bloodlust, and he remembered the whip of lightning around his body.
“What just happened to me - that wasn’t all just us, was it?”
The Doctor shook his head slightly. “No. The memory was too close to the surface, given all that’s happened recently, for me to hold it back completely. I’m sorry, Jack, I didn’t know that that was going to be what came out. I thought I’d be able to shield it better, or guide it to someplace safer, but…”
“Hey, hey.” Jack sat up behind him, dropping a kiss to the newly healed shoulder as he wound an arm around the Doctor’s shoulders from behind, resting his weight against his other hand. “No permanent harm done.” He paused for a moment, stroking the thin chest soothingly. “So you let him torture you so he would feel better?”
The sharp shoulders shrugged slightly. “It seemed the least I could do.”
Jack tightened his arm around the Doctor. “It was brave and generous. Stupid, but brave and generous.” The Doctor chuckled, and Jack turned to kiss his cheek. “And you kept the scars… why?”
“As a reminder.” The mercury eyes turned back to Jack. “And a warning. Damaged goods.”
Despite the twinge in the vicinity of his heart, Jack rolled his eyes. “Are you in Time Lord adolescence, or something? Would explain the black ensemble, that’s true, and the stompy boots.”
One corner of the full mouth quirked before the Doctor gave into his usual faux outrage. “Oi! Those are practical footwear, my boy.”
“Yeah,” purred Jack, pulling him with him as he laid back against the pillows. “Your boy. Do something about it.”
The Doctor turned to brace his hands on either side of Jack’s chest. “Not a quick learner, are you?” His tone was playful, but cautious.
“Hey, I was having fun, at least what I remember. I’m usually more likely to have an orgasm and then pass out, rather than pass out and have an orgasm. I like to remember those. You owe me one.”
That raised eyebrow again. “That’s a fair argument,” he acknowledged with a tilt of his head. “But do you trust me?”
“Yeah, I do.” Jack’s fingertips skimmed his ribs before reaching up to frame the strong face. “And if I pass out again, then you owe me two.”
The Doctor smiled a sudden, warm smile and Jack arched up to catch a kiss, winding his arms around the lean torso. The Doctor eased onto the bed, his unhurried lips and tongue exploring Jack’s mouth, and Jack wound his legs around him, pulling him closer.