vail-kagami: Set in Stone, Part 2/5 (Jack/Ten) [NC-17]
Title: Set in Stone (2/5)
Author:
vail_kagami
Challenge: Myths
Rating: NC-17 overall
Spoilers: Torchwood: Exit Wounds
Warnings: Violence
Summary: There is a legend on a distant planet, telling of a brave hero who once saved the world from a terrible demon.
As they make their way out of the city Jack expects a spear in the back any moment and he keeps looking around. The streets are deserted. Everyone is inside their homes, hiding from the dark and the terrifying power of the Demon.
The Time Lord. Hell.
“What did you do there?” Jack asks as they leave the last houses behind, climb up the hill. Up in the sky they can see the rings of the planet and its moon a dark shadow before them. “That was…”
“Stupid,” the Doctor interrupts him. “Dangerous. But this layer of time is already full of cracks. Something has messed with the age of this place and it’s left scars…”
“You manipulated time.” Jack doesn’t know what to think of this. “Such a risk only to save me from the fire?”
“The fabric of time is fragile,” the Doctor admits. “The balance… but here it is holding. Stable. All those cracks couldn’t shake it…”
Jack looks at him sharply. Back in the temple the Doctor’s voice has been resonating with power. Now it’s shaky and quiet and the light is gone from his eyes. His face is white in the dim light.
“What’s wrong?” the human asks concerned, just before the Doctor sinks to his knees, struggling for breath.
“Hard…” he presses out, but after a moment gets back to his feet.
Jack looks back to the city with worry, then up the hill. The slope is steep and if the people of Kradaat notice the Doctor’s weakness they might attack.
The Time Lord trembles with the effort of moving when Jack slides his arm around his waist and helps him up the hill, supporting more and more of his weight. The TARDIS is almost in touching distance when Jack’s friend falls to his knees again. He doubles over and his body shakes as he retches dryly.
Jack sits beside him, rubs his back helplessly until the retching stops.
“I’m okay,” the Doctor assures him in a shaking whisper. “Okay…”
“Of course,” Jack sarcastically agrees. He takes out his key and opens the door of the TARDIS before he helps his friend to his feet once again. Inside the Doctor collapses onto the worn narrow couch, breathing hard.
“You look ill.” Jack doesn’t attempt to keep the worry out of his voice but the Doctor shakes his head weakly.
“Exhausted,” he clarifies. “Takes a lot of strength.” He sinks down until he’s curled up on the couch and closes his eyes. “Just let me sleep…”
“This is hardly the best place for a nap,” Jack points out. The Doctor’s feet dangle over the edge and if he moves even a little he’ll fall off. But the Time Lord doesn’t react to Jack’s words and he doesn’t look like he’ll move anytime soon.
The couch still doesn’t look very comfortable and the Doctor is dirty and hurt. Jack looks at him thoughtfully, wondering if he’ll be able to carry him to his room. Reaching the conclusion that the TARDIS will probably locate that room near enough and that the Doctor is just skin and bones anyway he decides to try. Slides his arms around the Time Lord’s shoulders and under the back of his knees and is surprised how easy it is to lift him. The Doctor hangs in his arms like a child, completely motionless, and his breath is slightly wheezing.
Jack finds his room behind the first door he tries.
Then the Time Lord is lying on his bed, still looking terribly pale and ill. His cheeks are sunken in and his face is covered in sweat. Tearing those objects from the flow of time must have exhausted him beyond belief. When he presses his palm to the narrow chest Jack feels his hearts beating far too fast.
“Sleep,” he mumbles to the still figure. “If that’s all it takes… You’re definitely sleeping.”
It is a rare sight. The Doctor doesn’t need nearly as much sleep as a human and in all the time Jack has been travelling with him he has only once or twice caught him taking a quick nap. He has, however, seen him unconscious quite often.
The human doesn’t think anything short of an explosion can wake his friend right now, but he’s still as careful as possible as he undresses him.
The Doctor’s thin body is covered in bruises all over. Apparently his captors haven’t been particularly gentle with him, yet the only injuries that need to be cared for are on his wrists, where the skin has been excoriated by the shackles. It happens quite a lot when they are captured and Jack knows where to find everything he needs. The Doctor’s wrists are delicate things.
Just like everything about him seems delicate right now.
Seeing his friend almost completely naked, still and defenceless on that bed Jack feels a surge of affection run through him, and the well known desire for this man who is so beautiful, so vulnerable and so incredibly impressive. It’s easy to suppress. Jack has a lot of practice in suppressing his desire when it comes to the Doctor who must know that his friend wants him but can’t possibly imagine how much.
With a quiet sigh Jack drapes the blanket over the Time Lord and leaves for the console room, to make sure the outer doors are locked. As long as the Doctor is out they can’t leave and he would rather not have a bunch of paranoid natives in the TARDIS, even though the ship would probably make sure they never found them in the maze of corridors. They will have a lot to talk about once the Doctor is back with him.
Jack’s left leg is hurting where the flames have reached his trousers and burned the cloth away. He examines the wound, decides that it isn’t worth dying for and treats it in the infirmary before going to his own room to change into clean clothes.
Eventually he returns to the Doctor and stretches out beside him, to join him in his well deserved slumber.
He dreams of the Dark Tear ruling the sky and of blood on his hands.
-
He wakes up with a start, drenched in sweat, his heart racing. Beside him the Doctor is sleeping still, peacefully, alive. Some colour has returned to his skin and his heartbeats, his breathing has calmed down. He’s recovering.
For a long time Jack sits on the bed and watches him. Then he reaches out and ever so softly runs his thumb over his friend’s cheek. Bending down he breathes a kiss to his cool forehead, then one to each of his eyelids. The Doctor doesn’t stir. Jack’s fingers touch his slightly parted lips, linger. He feels the Doctor’s faint breath on his skin. It mingles with Jack’s own when he leans in again and his lips hover over the Time Lord’s, almost touching. Contemplating.
He retreats with a sigh. Runs a hand through the oblivious man’s hair, down his throat until it touches the blanket covering him. He isn’t going to kill him. He doesn’t care what the stones are telling - how could he ever hurt this man who has done so much for the cosmos and received so little in return?
It’s hard to turn away and leave him alone.
Jack’s leg is still hurting and his wrists feel a little raw from the chains though they have been more comfortable than the Doctor’s. Jack has been an honoured prisoner after all. Only the best for him.
He still isn’t quite over the Doctor’s little display of power. Looking at him it is easy to forget that he’s anything but helpless.
He finds the kitchen next door and the TARDIS blesses him with coffee that’s as good as Ianto’s. They both know how he likes it best.
The Doctor still sticks to his tea. He’s never been much of a coffee person.
When Jack steps out of the bathroom an hour later the Time Lord is in the console room, drinking tea. From a cup decorated with a picture of two little bunnies. They’re blue.
“How are you?” Jack wants to know and the Doctor beams at him.
“Splendid!” he says. “Told you all I needed was rest. As good as new!” He looks down onto his wrists as if he only now noticed the bandages wrapped around them. “Well, almost.”
His hair is damp and he’s wearing clean clothes, just like Jack. The realisation that they must have taken their showers at pretty much the same time makes the human curse the fact that the TARDIS has so many bathrooms.
“Well, time to leave, don’t you think?” The Doctor takes a look at the screen that’s currently showing the outside. “There seem to be people sneaking around the TARDIS.”
“Have been for a while,” Jack nods. “A little bit longer and they’ll start throwing stones at it. Or set fire. They like fire here.” He grimaces.
“Right, yeah. It didn’t hurt you, did it?” the Doctor asks as if he only now remembered Jack’s adventure at the stake.
“Not at all,” the human lies. “The flames never reached me.”
If the Doctor has seen his clothes catching fire he doesn’t show. In fact it’s impossible to tell if he’s even listening, never taking his eyes off the screen.
“They appear to be building some kind of catapult,” he observes with amazement. “Oh well. What do you think, shall we give them a story to tell their grandchildren?”
“They’re already telling enough stories,” Jack grumbles as the Doctor pulls a lever and the TARDIS dematerializes. Jack watches the column in the middle of the console move up and down for a wile, while his friend is busy setting the coordinates for their next destination.
“Doctor,” he says.
“Hm?” The Doctor doesn’t look up from his controls.
“I’m going to kill you.”
“You are?” Now the Doctor does look up, an expression of surprise and confusion on his pretty face. “Why?”
“I don’t know. But the legends of those people say so!”
“Oh, that!” The Time Lord smiles with realisation, then turns serious again. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“How could I not?” Jack explodes. “We’ll get there again, in the past. You said so yourself. And whatever happens then will end with me killing you. That gives us plenty of reason for worry!”
“Uh, no. Actually it doesn’t.” Apparently the Doctor reads in Jack’s face that more explanation is needed. “According to the pictures in the temple it happened when the Dark Tear was last seen in the sky. That was more than five hundred years ago. Who can tell how much of that legend is actually true? And it might be centuries in the future for us. No one knows what will happen until then. Maybe I turn evil for some reason, in which case I would want you to kill me!”
“Oh, come on!” If possible Jack’s expression darkens even more.
“Well, in that moment I might not, being evil and all, but from where I’m standing I’d want you to. Also,” he quickly adds when Jack opens his mouth for a rather rude reply, “it could be a trick.”
“A trick?” the human echoes.
“Of course. As I said, we can’t tell what happened. Maybe you will pretend to kill me to fool those people but don’t actually do so.”
It’s a good point, Jack has to admit. He feels the cold knot in his guts lessen ever so slightly. It’s a far fetched hope but it reminds him that the future is not set after all. Not in detail. Something will happen, but all they can see of the actual events is a shadow.
“Besides, those pictures showed you poking a spear through my heart, didn’t they?” The Doctor’s eyes twinkle. “Well, I’ve got two of those. That won’t necessarily kill me.”
And at that point the hope takes over and Jack allows himself to believe that he won’t kill the Time Lord after all. He closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again he steps over to his friend and pulls him into a tight hug.
In the days that follow though he often finds his mind wandering back to the engraved pictures and the story they told him. The doubt comes back, because he knows whatever they will do on that planet, there is pain waiting in their future. Maybe he won’t murder his friend. But maybe he will.
The Doctor never seems to worry about it: What will happen will happen and they won’t know until they get there. The never again talk about it.
But Jack silently vows not to let his friend set foot on that world ever again. If they don’t go there he can’t get hurt.
The knowledge that he’s only fooling himself doesn’t stop him from doing so.
-
The Doctor avoids thinking of it most of the time. He makes his preparations, and waits.
It’s not the memory of their inevitable future that plagues him as he’s standing in a deserted city one year later, on a world near the edge of the silver devastation. The storm has carried sand into the empty streets but now it’s raining. The water falls relentlessly from the grey sky, pouring down on him. Soaking his clothes.
He’s not wearing his coat.
There’s thunder in the air and lightning. The Doctor likes it. On an abandoned world the storm can’t hurt anyone.
Behind him, next to the TARDIS, Jack is standing. The Doctor can’t tell if he’s watching the weather or him. He’s just glad the human didn’t try to drag him out of the rain like a concerned mother hen. He knows Jack is caring for him and appreciates his friendship but sometimes his concern is as oppressive as his admiration.
The Doctor can’t live up to his expectations. Can’t give him anything in return.
He feels like he’s owing him something.
The thunder is getting louder. Dalek warships sound like this when they break through the atmosphere of a planet, but the lightning is just lightning.
The Doctor doesn’t return to the TARDIS because he wants to but because he must.
Jack follows him like a shadow. He never asked why this world is empty. He hasn’t spoken at all since the TARDIS brought them here and the Doctor is grateful for it.
Neither of them speaks now, when the Time Lord stands before the console, lost and alone. He doesn’t know where to go. His mind is elsewhere.
When a large, warm hand slides around his waist from behind he doesn’t react. Sensing his mood Jack tries to comfort him in the only way he feels safe with: physical contact. He holds the Doctor against his own body and for once the Doctor lets him. Forces himself to relax and leans back, into Jack’s embrace. When a minute later warm lips touch his skin where neck meets shoulder he closes his eyes and doesn’t stop it. His hearts are racing as he fights the urge to get away.
Jack hesitates, used to him stopping his playful advances before they cross a certain line. Only this is not playful and the Doctor isn’t running. The hand that slides beneath the Time Lord’s soaked shirt is almost like a question. He shudders and says nothing.
Jack’s hair brushes against the Doctor’s skin when he goes back to kissing his neck. The hand under his shirt loses its hesitation quickly as Jack realises that the Doctor isn’t going to stop him this time. The touch remains careful though - the borders have been redrawn and Jack doesn’t know where they run now. He’s testing out his limits, always waiting for the point the Doctor won’t let him pass.
The Time Lord tenses when fingers slip into the waistband of his pants. Jack’s other hand runs up his neck, comes to lie on his cheek, and then the fingers wander from his pants to his hip, and he is turned around in Jack’s arms. Facing him.
The eyes that gaze into his are full of wonder but also clouded by so much lust it is frightening. Only a second passes before Jack closes the gap between them and presses his lips to the Doctor’s. Pulling him into the first kiss they share that doesn’t taste of goodbye.
The Doctor measures time in heartbeats before he leans into the kiss ever so slightly, parts his lips and feels Jack’s hot tongue slide into his mouth.
It has been a long time since he’s been kissed like this by anyone. Jack is attacking his mouth with increasing force, letting go of his restraints and fights for a dominance the Doctor never intended to deny him. The desire is taking him over now - if the Doctor wants to stop him he will. Until that point Jack has no reason to hold back.
The Doctor is pushed back, pressed against the console. One of Jack’s hands is finding its way between his legs and this time the Doctor does flinch back. This is going too far.
Jack doesn’t stop kissing him immediately. Just a little further and he won’t be able to stop himself at all and the Doctor realises he can’t let it happen yet. To do this he needs to relax, and that he can’t do. Not here.
Jack looks almost hurt, almost betrayed as he pulls away. The Doctor holds him back.
“Bedroom,” he whispers.
Less than a minute later he is pushed down onto a soft mattress and a part of him is glad this is happing in Jack’s room and not in his. Then Jack’s body is covering his own and his hands are all over him, getting him out of the soaked suit. He should help, the Doctor thinks. Reaches for Jack’s shirt but the human pushed his hands away, holds them down without force and kisses him deeply.
“Let me!” he commands, his voice a little breathless. “Just relax…”
Relax. The Doctor closes his eyes, concentrates. Takes control of his body and its reactions, allows himself to feel Jack’s touch in a way he hasn’t felt anything in long time. Almost forces it to. It isn’t natural, isn’t familiar and as his friend’s hands roam over his damp skin it is hard to keep his barriers from getting back up. He’s willingly giving himself up in a situation beyond his control and it’s scaring him.
He’s shivering when he’s completely naked but Jack’s hands are warm and everywhere.
The human makes soothing noises and takes one hand away to stroke his hair and only then does the Doctor realise that he’s trembling.
He closes his eyes. Concentrates on the sensations Jack’s touches are giving him, makes himself view them as pleasure, as something to be enjoyed. It’s hard to enjoy them when every fibre of his body is screaming to run.
He doesn’t run.
A soft moan escapes his lips when Jack’s hand finds its way between his thighs again and if his friend is aware that it could as well have been a sob he doesn’t seem to care. His touches are tender, loving, but in no way hesitant. He worships the Doctor with determination and the Time Lord realises he’s a sacrifice on his own altar and Jack won’t stop now, can’t stop.
He shudders and gasps as those hot fingers run up and down his length, stroke and caress and apply pressure in all the right places. His own fingers twist into the sheets and his back arches but a part of his mind is watching all Jack does, committing it to memory, for how could he ever give any of this back human if he doesn’t know how?
Right now he’s fearing that moment more than anything. Jack is used to more experienced partners - the Doctor can only disappoint him.
Under Jack’s expert touches his penis is filling with blood, getting hard. The Doctor is far too aware of the processes going on in his body to be embarrassed by this. He’s letting it happen after all. It’s what Jack is expecting.
His eyes flutter shut and he doesn’t stop the moan that’s rising in his throat. By now the Time Lord is breathing hard and his hearts are hammering in his chest and the sensations are no less frightening for the pleasure they send through his body.
Then the movement of Jack’s fingers stop. The Doctor opens his eyes just a bit and, gazing through his lashes, finds the human staring at him with a look of dazed fascination on his face.
“And I thought you couldn’t possibly be any more beautiful,” he breathes out, his voice clouded by the desire that has taken the Doctor’s friend away and replaced him with a creature neither of them has any control over. He’s at the mercy of a stranger - the thought makes the Doctor shiver the moment Jack leans in and kisses him, tenderly at first but with quickly increasing passion. His lips soon stray away from the Doctor’s mouth, explore his neck, suck on his earlobe before wandering down his body. The Time Lord’s stomach tenses when they kiss and lick around his navel, and he tries to push himself into the mattress while the hand still stroking his penis is making him arch into the touch. He doesn’t think he can stand this much longer when Jack’s mouth wanders even lower and his lips suddenly wrap around the tip of the Doctor’s length.
Something’s missing and the Doctor can’t forget that no matter how hard he tries. So close to another being of any species their minds should touch, should mingle on the most basic of levels. His telepathic senses reach out and find nothing, running against a wall fixed in space and time. Instead the power of Jack’s wrongness is crushing down on the Doctor and the instinct to get away from him struggles against the pressure building in his body, demanding release.
The rational part of his mind shuts down completely as the hot human tongue pushes him over the edge and shudders run through his body again and again. His penis goes limp in Jack’s mouth when the blood leaves it.
The human’s face sports an expression of puzzlement as he pulls away. The Doctor needs a moment before he understands. He feels he has to explain, about his species not reproducing that way anymore and thus not having had any need for sperm for many generations. But all he’s able to get out is a mumbled “Sorry.”
Jack chuckles. Kisses him again, on the stomach.
“I want you,” this thing he’s become says breathlessly. “Desperately. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone this much.”
“You just had me,” the Doctor reminds him, still trembling with the aftershocks. Despite his body screaming at him to stay where he is and linger in this feeling he tries to get up, willing to give Jack the pleasure he craves, or at least attempt to. But the human presses him down.
“Don’t move,” he tells him. A flash of white teeth as he grins. “You’re definitely relaxed now.”
For a moment he disappears from the Doctor’s field of vision. He feels the mattress shift as Jack moves and then he’s back again, nudging the other’s tights apart with fingers that feel slippery and much cooler than before.
The Doctor doesn’t understand, not completely. A part of him is glad that Jack doesn’t expect him to do anything just yet. Another part of him is terrified.
He tenses when those cool and slippery fingers find his entrance and toy with it for a moment before pushing inside. This time it is discomfort that makes him twist his fingers in the sheets of the bed but Jack doesn’t stop. The strain grows as a second finger is added. This is going to hurt.
Even during his relentless effort to break into the Doctor’s body Jack’s other hand gently rubs his tense stomach, trying to relax him. The Doctor does his best, and fails.
He’d have felt sorry had Jack been denied his pleasure because of his lack of self control, so maybe he should feel glad when the other doesn’t stop.
Keeping his face as blank as possible he endures quietly until the intruding fingers push deeper and the pain mingles with unexpected pleasure. The Doctor feels lost, like a child. He wants Jack to stop yet he doesn’t. This state alone is enough to make him want to scream.
Eventually Jack withdraws his fingers and replaces them with his penis - the Doctor bites his lips and his back now arches because it burns.
“It’s alright,” Jack mumbles, pushing deeper still. He’s working in carefully and the Doctor knows he’s holding back for him. And it hurts but the pain is bearable. The Time Lord has just a vague idea how much self-restraint it must cost the human to do this so slowly and not give in to the animalistic urges that have taken over him and just dive into the Doctor’s body with all the force he can muster. He doesn’t want to hurt him, the Doctor knows. Jack never wants to cause him any pain and the thought hurts more than the hard length that’s wandering deeper and deeper into his body. It also gives the Doctor the strength to blind out the pain and concentrate solely on the pleasure that begins to spread through him once again as Jack settles into an easy rhythm, hitting all the right places.
But even Jack - blessed Jack with his rouge and noble heart - can only hold back for so long. The Doctor is trembling beneath him, his whimpers turning to moans as his friend rocks in and out, only his hands on the Doctor’s hips keeping him from being pushed into the headboard as force and speed of his thrusts increase. Above him Jack is grunting, his face a mask of concentration and pure, undignified pleasure. It makes all this worth it, the Doctor thinks distantly as Jack pushes into him one last time and comes with a howl. It’s something he can give to his friend simply by lying still and spreading his legs. It’s not much but it makes Jack happy, for a moment, and maybe it is repaying him a little bit for everything being friends with the Doctor has done to him and will do in the future.
They’re making memories here - memories for Jack to keep fondly in days to come. Or so the Doctor hopes.
The human pulls out and collapses onto him, spent, exhausted. Bare flesh on bare flesh, warm skin on cool. His lips move soundlessly against the side of the Doctor’s neck before he presses a soft kiss to his skin, then licks, and licks again because Time Lord sweat tastes different from human sweat. The Doctor wraps his arms around the large form that’s burying him, strokes that damp hair. Seconds later Jack is breathing deeply, fast asleep.
Trapped under him, naked and exposed and waiting for his hearts to slow down the Doctor stares up at the ceiling for the rest of the night.
-
Jack wakes up slowly. His mind is still groggy and confused and for a while he only snuggles closer to the warmth of the person he’s pressed against. It’s ridiculously comfortable. Almost perfect.
After a while the little imperfections find their way into his brain. Like the fact that he feels a bit sticky, which isn’t at all unusual after a night of sex. Or the fact that it’s quite cool everywhere he isn’t touching the other or the sheets, due to the blanket being beneath him and not covering them as it should. Also the warm body he’s pressed against isn’t quite as warm as he’d expect it to be.
Blinking unwillingly in the dim light he finds himself lying on his side, curled around the bony form of another man, chest pressed to back. His face is buried in the other’s ruffled brown hair and Jack can feel his breathing under the palm that’s lying on his chest. Feels the beating of two hearts.
The memory comes back and Jack sits upright with a start, suddenly trembling with shock. What has he done? Fuck, what has he done?
The Doctor opens his eyes when Jack’s warmth disappears from behind him and sits up as well, much less panicky and with moderate confusion writ over his pretty features. He doesn’t look sleepy and Jack thinks that he must have pretended to sleep, only closing his eyes when he felt Jack moving behind him. He doesn’t know what to make of this but it can’t be good. The night before he’s been full of desire, unable to think clearly from the moment the Doctor has returned his kiss, but now that his mind is working again he’s aware that something is wrong here. The Doctor doesn’t do this! The Doctor would never let him do that to him.
Yet he did. Jack’s memory tells him of the Time Lord writhing under him, panting and whimpering and willing. Not once has he even tried to stop Jack from touching him and there really is no reason for him to feel like a rapist.
“Fuck, I’m sorry!” he presses out, making the Doctor frown with confused worry.
“For what?” he asks. “Jack, what’s wrong?”
Jack shakes his head. He’s done nothing wrong, has he? So there is no way to explain what he’s sorry for. Except he did do something wrong last night. Everything he did was wrong!
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he says helplessly.
“Done what? Why not?” His words only added to the Doctor’s confusion and now he’s beginning to look guilty. Great, Jack! Just great.
Maybe it’s the clueless innocence he even now sees in his friends eyes, he thinks. It’s like molesting a child, and it doesn’t help that he’s long since accepted the Time Lord to be untouchable, completely out of his reach. He’s always wanted him, ever since he met the blond girl in the union jack and the northern guy in the leather jacket in 1941 and found his charms entirely without effect when it came to the latter. Somewhere in his mind he had this picture of the Doctor as something pure and holy and now he’s defiled that.
“Listen, I don’t know how that happened, but I never meant to… I wasn’t thinking!” Jack’s laugh is desperate. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me! I just lost my mind for a while and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, promise!”
The Doctor stares at him, and Jack can’t really say he’s surprised the wide eyed confusion doesn’t leave his face. Naked and unruly on his bed he isn’t any less desirable than before. If possible Jack wants him even more now that he knows what the Time Lord looks like when the pleasure takes everything away for a while, with which little noises he responses to Jack’s touches…
“You didn’t hurt me, Jack,” the Doctor tells him. “Didn’t you like it?” Now he’s sounding anxious and Jack mentally kicks himself, completely at loss with this situation. “I’m sorry. I lack experience in that regard, didn’t know what you where expecting of me…”
“It was wonderful!” Jack bust out, almost against his will. “I’ve fantasised about this forever and you where everything I wanted and more.” The Doctor looks both relieved and scared at his declaration. Like a little boy. Fuck.
“I feel like I’ve taken advantage of you,” Jack adds by way of explanation.
“You didn’t.”
“You can’t deny that this isn’t what you usually do, Doctor! I don’t know what was going on in your head - hell if I ever know that! But you wouldn’t any other day, right? You had a moment of weakness and I…”
“Jack.” The Doctor’s calm voice stops Jack’s rant and suddenly the Time Lord seems perfectly in control again. “I’m not human. I am stronger than you, and you know it. If I wanted to I could crush your skull between my palms. Do you really believe you could do anything to me I wouldn’t want you to do?”
“Then why?” Jack asks helplessly. “Why now?” Why not years ago?
The Doctor shrugs, obviously not having an answer he wants to give. Jack expects to be fed something along the lines of ‘I felt like it’ and is surprised when his friend says:
“I’m tired of running from you. You deserve better.”
“I do?” Not Jack’s looking surprised. While his brain still struggles to take it all in he feels a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, not quite allowing it yet. Not while he doesn’t really know what this all means. “You’re saying this wasn’t just a terrible mistake we’re not ever going to talk about?”
“It wasn’t terrible and it definitely wasn’t a mistake.” The Doctor smiles softly, from the other side of the bed. “I enjoyed it.”
Now the smile is on Jack’s face, he can’t help it. It’s made of hope, relief, and simple happiness.
“So. Not a ‘once in a lifetime’ thing then?”
For a second he thinks there’s new surprise on the other’s face, shock even - like the possibility they could do this again never occurred to him. It’s gone in an instant and Jack stops thinking about it when the Doctor says:
“Sure. Why not?”
Part 1 <-> Part 3
Author:
vail_kagami
Challenge: Myths
Rating: NC-17 overall
Spoilers: Torchwood: Exit Wounds
Warnings: Violence
Summary: There is a legend on a distant planet, telling of a brave hero who once saved the world from a terrible demon.
As they make their way out of the city Jack expects a spear in the back any moment and he keeps looking around. The streets are deserted. Everyone is inside their homes, hiding from the dark and the terrifying power of the Demon.
The Time Lord. Hell.
“What did you do there?” Jack asks as they leave the last houses behind, climb up the hill. Up in the sky they can see the rings of the planet and its moon a dark shadow before them. “That was…”
“Stupid,” the Doctor interrupts him. “Dangerous. But this layer of time is already full of cracks. Something has messed with the age of this place and it’s left scars…”
“You manipulated time.” Jack doesn’t know what to think of this. “Such a risk only to save me from the fire?”
“The fabric of time is fragile,” the Doctor admits. “The balance… but here it is holding. Stable. All those cracks couldn’t shake it…”
Jack looks at him sharply. Back in the temple the Doctor’s voice has been resonating with power. Now it’s shaky and quiet and the light is gone from his eyes. His face is white in the dim light.
“What’s wrong?” the human asks concerned, just before the Doctor sinks to his knees, struggling for breath.
“Hard…” he presses out, but after a moment gets back to his feet.
Jack looks back to the city with worry, then up the hill. The slope is steep and if the people of Kradaat notice the Doctor’s weakness they might attack.
The Time Lord trembles with the effort of moving when Jack slides his arm around his waist and helps him up the hill, supporting more and more of his weight. The TARDIS is almost in touching distance when Jack’s friend falls to his knees again. He doubles over and his body shakes as he retches dryly.
Jack sits beside him, rubs his back helplessly until the retching stops.
“I’m okay,” the Doctor assures him in a shaking whisper. “Okay…”
“Of course,” Jack sarcastically agrees. He takes out his key and opens the door of the TARDIS before he helps his friend to his feet once again. Inside the Doctor collapses onto the worn narrow couch, breathing hard.
“You look ill.” Jack doesn’t attempt to keep the worry out of his voice but the Doctor shakes his head weakly.
“Exhausted,” he clarifies. “Takes a lot of strength.” He sinks down until he’s curled up on the couch and closes his eyes. “Just let me sleep…”
“This is hardly the best place for a nap,” Jack points out. The Doctor’s feet dangle over the edge and if he moves even a little he’ll fall off. But the Time Lord doesn’t react to Jack’s words and he doesn’t look like he’ll move anytime soon.
The couch still doesn’t look very comfortable and the Doctor is dirty and hurt. Jack looks at him thoughtfully, wondering if he’ll be able to carry him to his room. Reaching the conclusion that the TARDIS will probably locate that room near enough and that the Doctor is just skin and bones anyway he decides to try. Slides his arms around the Time Lord’s shoulders and under the back of his knees and is surprised how easy it is to lift him. The Doctor hangs in his arms like a child, completely motionless, and his breath is slightly wheezing.
Jack finds his room behind the first door he tries.
Then the Time Lord is lying on his bed, still looking terribly pale and ill. His cheeks are sunken in and his face is covered in sweat. Tearing those objects from the flow of time must have exhausted him beyond belief. When he presses his palm to the narrow chest Jack feels his hearts beating far too fast.
“Sleep,” he mumbles to the still figure. “If that’s all it takes… You’re definitely sleeping.”
It is a rare sight. The Doctor doesn’t need nearly as much sleep as a human and in all the time Jack has been travelling with him he has only once or twice caught him taking a quick nap. He has, however, seen him unconscious quite often.
The human doesn’t think anything short of an explosion can wake his friend right now, but he’s still as careful as possible as he undresses him.
The Doctor’s thin body is covered in bruises all over. Apparently his captors haven’t been particularly gentle with him, yet the only injuries that need to be cared for are on his wrists, where the skin has been excoriated by the shackles. It happens quite a lot when they are captured and Jack knows where to find everything he needs. The Doctor’s wrists are delicate things.
Just like everything about him seems delicate right now.
Seeing his friend almost completely naked, still and defenceless on that bed Jack feels a surge of affection run through him, and the well known desire for this man who is so beautiful, so vulnerable and so incredibly impressive. It’s easy to suppress. Jack has a lot of practice in suppressing his desire when it comes to the Doctor who must know that his friend wants him but can’t possibly imagine how much.
With a quiet sigh Jack drapes the blanket over the Time Lord and leaves for the console room, to make sure the outer doors are locked. As long as the Doctor is out they can’t leave and he would rather not have a bunch of paranoid natives in the TARDIS, even though the ship would probably make sure they never found them in the maze of corridors. They will have a lot to talk about once the Doctor is back with him.
Jack’s left leg is hurting where the flames have reached his trousers and burned the cloth away. He examines the wound, decides that it isn’t worth dying for and treats it in the infirmary before going to his own room to change into clean clothes.
Eventually he returns to the Doctor and stretches out beside him, to join him in his well deserved slumber.
He dreams of the Dark Tear ruling the sky and of blood on his hands.
-
He wakes up with a start, drenched in sweat, his heart racing. Beside him the Doctor is sleeping still, peacefully, alive. Some colour has returned to his skin and his heartbeats, his breathing has calmed down. He’s recovering.
For a long time Jack sits on the bed and watches him. Then he reaches out and ever so softly runs his thumb over his friend’s cheek. Bending down he breathes a kiss to his cool forehead, then one to each of his eyelids. The Doctor doesn’t stir. Jack’s fingers touch his slightly parted lips, linger. He feels the Doctor’s faint breath on his skin. It mingles with Jack’s own when he leans in again and his lips hover over the Time Lord’s, almost touching. Contemplating.
He retreats with a sigh. Runs a hand through the oblivious man’s hair, down his throat until it touches the blanket covering him. He isn’t going to kill him. He doesn’t care what the stones are telling - how could he ever hurt this man who has done so much for the cosmos and received so little in return?
It’s hard to turn away and leave him alone.
Jack’s leg is still hurting and his wrists feel a little raw from the chains though they have been more comfortable than the Doctor’s. Jack has been an honoured prisoner after all. Only the best for him.
He still isn’t quite over the Doctor’s little display of power. Looking at him it is easy to forget that he’s anything but helpless.
He finds the kitchen next door and the TARDIS blesses him with coffee that’s as good as Ianto’s. They both know how he likes it best.
The Doctor still sticks to his tea. He’s never been much of a coffee person.
When Jack steps out of the bathroom an hour later the Time Lord is in the console room, drinking tea. From a cup decorated with a picture of two little bunnies. They’re blue.
“How are you?” Jack wants to know and the Doctor beams at him.
“Splendid!” he says. “Told you all I needed was rest. As good as new!” He looks down onto his wrists as if he only now noticed the bandages wrapped around them. “Well, almost.”
His hair is damp and he’s wearing clean clothes, just like Jack. The realisation that they must have taken their showers at pretty much the same time makes the human curse the fact that the TARDIS has so many bathrooms.
“Well, time to leave, don’t you think?” The Doctor takes a look at the screen that’s currently showing the outside. “There seem to be people sneaking around the TARDIS.”
“Have been for a while,” Jack nods. “A little bit longer and they’ll start throwing stones at it. Or set fire. They like fire here.” He grimaces.
“Right, yeah. It didn’t hurt you, did it?” the Doctor asks as if he only now remembered Jack’s adventure at the stake.
“Not at all,” the human lies. “The flames never reached me.”
If the Doctor has seen his clothes catching fire he doesn’t show. In fact it’s impossible to tell if he’s even listening, never taking his eyes off the screen.
“They appear to be building some kind of catapult,” he observes with amazement. “Oh well. What do you think, shall we give them a story to tell their grandchildren?”
“They’re already telling enough stories,” Jack grumbles as the Doctor pulls a lever and the TARDIS dematerializes. Jack watches the column in the middle of the console move up and down for a wile, while his friend is busy setting the coordinates for their next destination.
“Doctor,” he says.
“Hm?” The Doctor doesn’t look up from his controls.
“I’m going to kill you.”
“You are?” Now the Doctor does look up, an expression of surprise and confusion on his pretty face. “Why?”
“I don’t know. But the legends of those people say so!”
“Oh, that!” The Time Lord smiles with realisation, then turns serious again. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“How could I not?” Jack explodes. “We’ll get there again, in the past. You said so yourself. And whatever happens then will end with me killing you. That gives us plenty of reason for worry!”
“Uh, no. Actually it doesn’t.” Apparently the Doctor reads in Jack’s face that more explanation is needed. “According to the pictures in the temple it happened when the Dark Tear was last seen in the sky. That was more than five hundred years ago. Who can tell how much of that legend is actually true? And it might be centuries in the future for us. No one knows what will happen until then. Maybe I turn evil for some reason, in which case I would want you to kill me!”
“Oh, come on!” If possible Jack’s expression darkens even more.
“Well, in that moment I might not, being evil and all, but from where I’m standing I’d want you to. Also,” he quickly adds when Jack opens his mouth for a rather rude reply, “it could be a trick.”
“A trick?” the human echoes.
“Of course. As I said, we can’t tell what happened. Maybe you will pretend to kill me to fool those people but don’t actually do so.”
It’s a good point, Jack has to admit. He feels the cold knot in his guts lessen ever so slightly. It’s a far fetched hope but it reminds him that the future is not set after all. Not in detail. Something will happen, but all they can see of the actual events is a shadow.
“Besides, those pictures showed you poking a spear through my heart, didn’t they?” The Doctor’s eyes twinkle. “Well, I’ve got two of those. That won’t necessarily kill me.”
And at that point the hope takes over and Jack allows himself to believe that he won’t kill the Time Lord after all. He closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again he steps over to his friend and pulls him into a tight hug.
In the days that follow though he often finds his mind wandering back to the engraved pictures and the story they told him. The doubt comes back, because he knows whatever they will do on that planet, there is pain waiting in their future. Maybe he won’t murder his friend. But maybe he will.
The Doctor never seems to worry about it: What will happen will happen and they won’t know until they get there. The never again talk about it.
But Jack silently vows not to let his friend set foot on that world ever again. If they don’t go there he can’t get hurt.
The knowledge that he’s only fooling himself doesn’t stop him from doing so.
-
The Doctor avoids thinking of it most of the time. He makes his preparations, and waits.
It’s not the memory of their inevitable future that plagues him as he’s standing in a deserted city one year later, on a world near the edge of the silver devastation. The storm has carried sand into the empty streets but now it’s raining. The water falls relentlessly from the grey sky, pouring down on him. Soaking his clothes.
He’s not wearing his coat.
There’s thunder in the air and lightning. The Doctor likes it. On an abandoned world the storm can’t hurt anyone.
Behind him, next to the TARDIS, Jack is standing. The Doctor can’t tell if he’s watching the weather or him. He’s just glad the human didn’t try to drag him out of the rain like a concerned mother hen. He knows Jack is caring for him and appreciates his friendship but sometimes his concern is as oppressive as his admiration.
The Doctor can’t live up to his expectations. Can’t give him anything in return.
He feels like he’s owing him something.
The thunder is getting louder. Dalek warships sound like this when they break through the atmosphere of a planet, but the lightning is just lightning.
The Doctor doesn’t return to the TARDIS because he wants to but because he must.
Jack follows him like a shadow. He never asked why this world is empty. He hasn’t spoken at all since the TARDIS brought them here and the Doctor is grateful for it.
Neither of them speaks now, when the Time Lord stands before the console, lost and alone. He doesn’t know where to go. His mind is elsewhere.
When a large, warm hand slides around his waist from behind he doesn’t react. Sensing his mood Jack tries to comfort him in the only way he feels safe with: physical contact. He holds the Doctor against his own body and for once the Doctor lets him. Forces himself to relax and leans back, into Jack’s embrace. When a minute later warm lips touch his skin where neck meets shoulder he closes his eyes and doesn’t stop it. His hearts are racing as he fights the urge to get away.
Jack hesitates, used to him stopping his playful advances before they cross a certain line. Only this is not playful and the Doctor isn’t running. The hand that slides beneath the Time Lord’s soaked shirt is almost like a question. He shudders and says nothing.
Jack’s hair brushes against the Doctor’s skin when he goes back to kissing his neck. The hand under his shirt loses its hesitation quickly as Jack realises that the Doctor isn’t going to stop him this time. The touch remains careful though - the borders have been redrawn and Jack doesn’t know where they run now. He’s testing out his limits, always waiting for the point the Doctor won’t let him pass.
The Time Lord tenses when fingers slip into the waistband of his pants. Jack’s other hand runs up his neck, comes to lie on his cheek, and then the fingers wander from his pants to his hip, and he is turned around in Jack’s arms. Facing him.
The eyes that gaze into his are full of wonder but also clouded by so much lust it is frightening. Only a second passes before Jack closes the gap between them and presses his lips to the Doctor’s. Pulling him into the first kiss they share that doesn’t taste of goodbye.
The Doctor measures time in heartbeats before he leans into the kiss ever so slightly, parts his lips and feels Jack’s hot tongue slide into his mouth.
It has been a long time since he’s been kissed like this by anyone. Jack is attacking his mouth with increasing force, letting go of his restraints and fights for a dominance the Doctor never intended to deny him. The desire is taking him over now - if the Doctor wants to stop him he will. Until that point Jack has no reason to hold back.
The Doctor is pushed back, pressed against the console. One of Jack’s hands is finding its way between his legs and this time the Doctor does flinch back. This is going too far.
Jack doesn’t stop kissing him immediately. Just a little further and he won’t be able to stop himself at all and the Doctor realises he can’t let it happen yet. To do this he needs to relax, and that he can’t do. Not here.
Jack looks almost hurt, almost betrayed as he pulls away. The Doctor holds him back.
“Bedroom,” he whispers.
Less than a minute later he is pushed down onto a soft mattress and a part of him is glad this is happing in Jack’s room and not in his. Then Jack’s body is covering his own and his hands are all over him, getting him out of the soaked suit. He should help, the Doctor thinks. Reaches for Jack’s shirt but the human pushed his hands away, holds them down without force and kisses him deeply.
“Let me!” he commands, his voice a little breathless. “Just relax…”
Relax. The Doctor closes his eyes, concentrates. Takes control of his body and its reactions, allows himself to feel Jack’s touch in a way he hasn’t felt anything in long time. Almost forces it to. It isn’t natural, isn’t familiar and as his friend’s hands roam over his damp skin it is hard to keep his barriers from getting back up. He’s willingly giving himself up in a situation beyond his control and it’s scaring him.
He’s shivering when he’s completely naked but Jack’s hands are warm and everywhere.
The human makes soothing noises and takes one hand away to stroke his hair and only then does the Doctor realise that he’s trembling.
He closes his eyes. Concentrates on the sensations Jack’s touches are giving him, makes himself view them as pleasure, as something to be enjoyed. It’s hard to enjoy them when every fibre of his body is screaming to run.
He doesn’t run.
A soft moan escapes his lips when Jack’s hand finds its way between his thighs again and if his friend is aware that it could as well have been a sob he doesn’t seem to care. His touches are tender, loving, but in no way hesitant. He worships the Doctor with determination and the Time Lord realises he’s a sacrifice on his own altar and Jack won’t stop now, can’t stop.
He shudders and gasps as those hot fingers run up and down his length, stroke and caress and apply pressure in all the right places. His own fingers twist into the sheets and his back arches but a part of his mind is watching all Jack does, committing it to memory, for how could he ever give any of this back human if he doesn’t know how?
Right now he’s fearing that moment more than anything. Jack is used to more experienced partners - the Doctor can only disappoint him.
Under Jack’s expert touches his penis is filling with blood, getting hard. The Doctor is far too aware of the processes going on in his body to be embarrassed by this. He’s letting it happen after all. It’s what Jack is expecting.
His eyes flutter shut and he doesn’t stop the moan that’s rising in his throat. By now the Time Lord is breathing hard and his hearts are hammering in his chest and the sensations are no less frightening for the pleasure they send through his body.
Then the movement of Jack’s fingers stop. The Doctor opens his eyes just a bit and, gazing through his lashes, finds the human staring at him with a look of dazed fascination on his face.
“And I thought you couldn’t possibly be any more beautiful,” he breathes out, his voice clouded by the desire that has taken the Doctor’s friend away and replaced him with a creature neither of them has any control over. He’s at the mercy of a stranger - the thought makes the Doctor shiver the moment Jack leans in and kisses him, tenderly at first but with quickly increasing passion. His lips soon stray away from the Doctor’s mouth, explore his neck, suck on his earlobe before wandering down his body. The Time Lord’s stomach tenses when they kiss and lick around his navel, and he tries to push himself into the mattress while the hand still stroking his penis is making him arch into the touch. He doesn’t think he can stand this much longer when Jack’s mouth wanders even lower and his lips suddenly wrap around the tip of the Doctor’s length.
Something’s missing and the Doctor can’t forget that no matter how hard he tries. So close to another being of any species their minds should touch, should mingle on the most basic of levels. His telepathic senses reach out and find nothing, running against a wall fixed in space and time. Instead the power of Jack’s wrongness is crushing down on the Doctor and the instinct to get away from him struggles against the pressure building in his body, demanding release.
The rational part of his mind shuts down completely as the hot human tongue pushes him over the edge and shudders run through his body again and again. His penis goes limp in Jack’s mouth when the blood leaves it.
The human’s face sports an expression of puzzlement as he pulls away. The Doctor needs a moment before he understands. He feels he has to explain, about his species not reproducing that way anymore and thus not having had any need for sperm for many generations. But all he’s able to get out is a mumbled “Sorry.”
Jack chuckles. Kisses him again, on the stomach.
“I want you,” this thing he’s become says breathlessly. “Desperately. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone this much.”
“You just had me,” the Doctor reminds him, still trembling with the aftershocks. Despite his body screaming at him to stay where he is and linger in this feeling he tries to get up, willing to give Jack the pleasure he craves, or at least attempt to. But the human presses him down.
“Don’t move,” he tells him. A flash of white teeth as he grins. “You’re definitely relaxed now.”
For a moment he disappears from the Doctor’s field of vision. He feels the mattress shift as Jack moves and then he’s back again, nudging the other’s tights apart with fingers that feel slippery and much cooler than before.
The Doctor doesn’t understand, not completely. A part of him is glad that Jack doesn’t expect him to do anything just yet. Another part of him is terrified.
He tenses when those cool and slippery fingers find his entrance and toy with it for a moment before pushing inside. This time it is discomfort that makes him twist his fingers in the sheets of the bed but Jack doesn’t stop. The strain grows as a second finger is added. This is going to hurt.
Even during his relentless effort to break into the Doctor’s body Jack’s other hand gently rubs his tense stomach, trying to relax him. The Doctor does his best, and fails.
He’d have felt sorry had Jack been denied his pleasure because of his lack of self control, so maybe he should feel glad when the other doesn’t stop.
Keeping his face as blank as possible he endures quietly until the intruding fingers push deeper and the pain mingles with unexpected pleasure. The Doctor feels lost, like a child. He wants Jack to stop yet he doesn’t. This state alone is enough to make him want to scream.
Eventually Jack withdraws his fingers and replaces them with his penis - the Doctor bites his lips and his back now arches because it burns.
“It’s alright,” Jack mumbles, pushing deeper still. He’s working in carefully and the Doctor knows he’s holding back for him. And it hurts but the pain is bearable. The Time Lord has just a vague idea how much self-restraint it must cost the human to do this so slowly and not give in to the animalistic urges that have taken over him and just dive into the Doctor’s body with all the force he can muster. He doesn’t want to hurt him, the Doctor knows. Jack never wants to cause him any pain and the thought hurts more than the hard length that’s wandering deeper and deeper into his body. It also gives the Doctor the strength to blind out the pain and concentrate solely on the pleasure that begins to spread through him once again as Jack settles into an easy rhythm, hitting all the right places.
But even Jack - blessed Jack with his rouge and noble heart - can only hold back for so long. The Doctor is trembling beneath him, his whimpers turning to moans as his friend rocks in and out, only his hands on the Doctor’s hips keeping him from being pushed into the headboard as force and speed of his thrusts increase. Above him Jack is grunting, his face a mask of concentration and pure, undignified pleasure. It makes all this worth it, the Doctor thinks distantly as Jack pushes into him one last time and comes with a howl. It’s something he can give to his friend simply by lying still and spreading his legs. It’s not much but it makes Jack happy, for a moment, and maybe it is repaying him a little bit for everything being friends with the Doctor has done to him and will do in the future.
They’re making memories here - memories for Jack to keep fondly in days to come. Or so the Doctor hopes.
The human pulls out and collapses onto him, spent, exhausted. Bare flesh on bare flesh, warm skin on cool. His lips move soundlessly against the side of the Doctor’s neck before he presses a soft kiss to his skin, then licks, and licks again because Time Lord sweat tastes different from human sweat. The Doctor wraps his arms around the large form that’s burying him, strokes that damp hair. Seconds later Jack is breathing deeply, fast asleep.
Trapped under him, naked and exposed and waiting for his hearts to slow down the Doctor stares up at the ceiling for the rest of the night.
-
Jack wakes up slowly. His mind is still groggy and confused and for a while he only snuggles closer to the warmth of the person he’s pressed against. It’s ridiculously comfortable. Almost perfect.
After a while the little imperfections find their way into his brain. Like the fact that he feels a bit sticky, which isn’t at all unusual after a night of sex. Or the fact that it’s quite cool everywhere he isn’t touching the other or the sheets, due to the blanket being beneath him and not covering them as it should. Also the warm body he’s pressed against isn’t quite as warm as he’d expect it to be.
Blinking unwillingly in the dim light he finds himself lying on his side, curled around the bony form of another man, chest pressed to back. His face is buried in the other’s ruffled brown hair and Jack can feel his breathing under the palm that’s lying on his chest. Feels the beating of two hearts.
The memory comes back and Jack sits upright with a start, suddenly trembling with shock. What has he done? Fuck, what has he done?
The Doctor opens his eyes when Jack’s warmth disappears from behind him and sits up as well, much less panicky and with moderate confusion writ over his pretty features. He doesn’t look sleepy and Jack thinks that he must have pretended to sleep, only closing his eyes when he felt Jack moving behind him. He doesn’t know what to make of this but it can’t be good. The night before he’s been full of desire, unable to think clearly from the moment the Doctor has returned his kiss, but now that his mind is working again he’s aware that something is wrong here. The Doctor doesn’t do this! The Doctor would never let him do that to him.
Yet he did. Jack’s memory tells him of the Time Lord writhing under him, panting and whimpering and willing. Not once has he even tried to stop Jack from touching him and there really is no reason for him to feel like a rapist.
“Fuck, I’m sorry!” he presses out, making the Doctor frown with confused worry.
“For what?” he asks. “Jack, what’s wrong?”
Jack shakes his head. He’s done nothing wrong, has he? So there is no way to explain what he’s sorry for. Except he did do something wrong last night. Everything he did was wrong!
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he says helplessly.
“Done what? Why not?” His words only added to the Doctor’s confusion and now he’s beginning to look guilty. Great, Jack! Just great.
Maybe it’s the clueless innocence he even now sees in his friends eyes, he thinks. It’s like molesting a child, and it doesn’t help that he’s long since accepted the Time Lord to be untouchable, completely out of his reach. He’s always wanted him, ever since he met the blond girl in the union jack and the northern guy in the leather jacket in 1941 and found his charms entirely without effect when it came to the latter. Somewhere in his mind he had this picture of the Doctor as something pure and holy and now he’s defiled that.
“Listen, I don’t know how that happened, but I never meant to… I wasn’t thinking!” Jack’s laugh is desperate. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me! I just lost my mind for a while and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, promise!”
The Doctor stares at him, and Jack can’t really say he’s surprised the wide eyed confusion doesn’t leave his face. Naked and unruly on his bed he isn’t any less desirable than before. If possible Jack wants him even more now that he knows what the Time Lord looks like when the pleasure takes everything away for a while, with which little noises he responses to Jack’s touches…
“You didn’t hurt me, Jack,” the Doctor tells him. “Didn’t you like it?” Now he’s sounding anxious and Jack mentally kicks himself, completely at loss with this situation. “I’m sorry. I lack experience in that regard, didn’t know what you where expecting of me…”
“It was wonderful!” Jack bust out, almost against his will. “I’ve fantasised about this forever and you where everything I wanted and more.” The Doctor looks both relieved and scared at his declaration. Like a little boy. Fuck.
“I feel like I’ve taken advantage of you,” Jack adds by way of explanation.
“You didn’t.”
“You can’t deny that this isn’t what you usually do, Doctor! I don’t know what was going on in your head - hell if I ever know that! But you wouldn’t any other day, right? You had a moment of weakness and I…”
“Jack.” The Doctor’s calm voice stops Jack’s rant and suddenly the Time Lord seems perfectly in control again. “I’m not human. I am stronger than you, and you know it. If I wanted to I could crush your skull between my palms. Do you really believe you could do anything to me I wouldn’t want you to do?”
“Then why?” Jack asks helplessly. “Why now?” Why not years ago?
The Doctor shrugs, obviously not having an answer he wants to give. Jack expects to be fed something along the lines of ‘I felt like it’ and is surprised when his friend says:
“I’m tired of running from you. You deserve better.”
“I do?” Not Jack’s looking surprised. While his brain still struggles to take it all in he feels a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, not quite allowing it yet. Not while he doesn’t really know what this all means. “You’re saying this wasn’t just a terrible mistake we’re not ever going to talk about?”
“It wasn’t terrible and it definitely wasn’t a mistake.” The Doctor smiles softly, from the other side of the bed. “I enjoyed it.”
Now the smile is on Jack’s face, he can’t help it. It’s made of hope, relief, and simple happiness.
“So. Not a ‘once in a lifetime’ thing then?”
For a second he thinks there’s new surprise on the other’s face, shock even - like the possibility they could do this again never occurred to him. It’s gone in an instant and Jack stops thinking about it when the Doctor says:
“Sure. Why not?”
Part 1 <-> Part 3