Reposting old fic - Dancing in the Dark
Title: Dancing in the Dark
Authors: Kaethel (
kae_nine) & WMR (
wendymr)
Character/Pairing: Ninth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness (OT3)
Rating: M
Published: May 2006
Summary: Did they have any idea, the two of them, what they were doing to him? Probably not; they seemed to have no inkling of what they did to each other.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but boy do I enjoy torturing them...
A/N: With grateful thanks to
dark_aegis for coaxing, pleading, cheering, blushing, suggesting, encouraging, editing, woohoo-ing and generally BRing this story. We couldn't have finished it without your support!
Dancing in the Dark
by Kaethel & WMR
Ninety-nine green bottles hanging on the wall...
An old song he’d heard his grandfather sing many times. And old rhyme that was the only thing seeping through his clogged mind.
The normally-soft humming of the TARDIS sounded exceptionally loud tonight. It wasn’t as bad as the sharp, edge-cutting noise of the bottle-neck as it hit his glass. Not half-bad, this tequila. Some of the transparent liquor splashed onto his hand.
Back in his young days, beer was enough to get him drunk. You got more posh as you got older, he supposed. Stronger liquors were a necessary requirement to drown his sorrow these days. These days... Like he made a habit of drinking himself to oblivion.
He didn’t! No, he didn’t! And he’d deny it all if asked in court.
“Jack Harkness, have you ever got drunk on tequila?” He straightened his posture and mocked the tone of an old American judge he’d known in the late twentieth century.
He almost shouted his own answer. “No, Your Honor! On the Hol-Holy Bbbible, I swear I nnnnever... woul’never drink anythin’ but vod-vodka!”
A short, hollow laugh escaped his throat.
Idiot. What the hell was he doing, anyway? Sitting here in the semi-darkness, brooding. Hadn’t he done enough of that over the past year?
He was supposed to be all about the happy. That was him. Happy, fun-loving Jack Harkness. Want a good time? Give Jack a call. Looking for the life and soul of the party? Jack Harkness at your service.
Need someone to save the day, run into danger, risk his life to save the world... nah. Look somewhere else. Not his style. Too risky. Too much chance of getting killed.
Unbelievable, then, that for the sake of a gorgeous blonde and her darkly brooding, possessive boyfriend, he had actually saved the day. And almost died in the process.
Course, he wasn’t really her boyfriend. And she’d claimed to be available. Not that the Doctor seemed to accept that. Shame. Real shame. Especially as he liked Rose. Really liked her. Wanted to shag her until they were both mindless, of course. But he liked her, too.
If only...
He drained his glass and immediately refilled it. The bottle hit the table again with a loud bang, startling him from his half-drunk stupor. Sudden fascination for the label relieved his thoughts from Rose for a minute. He’d found the bottle in a cabinet set against the wall in this room, which looked like some sort of old-fashioned gentleman’s sitting-room, all leather chairs and wood panelling.
Did the Doctor drink as well? Did he actually get drunk? For all his knowledge about aliens, he’d never actually stopped to wonder if they could get drunk. If a Time Lord could get drunk. But then, he’d never met a Time Lord before. They looked so much like human beings it was hard to remember they weren’t from Earth.
They had two hearts, okay. What else did they have two of? A grin spread on his face as possibilities filled his mind. He pushed them away.
Thoughts of Rose were easier to process...
But the dark, handsome profile of the Doctor haunted his thoughts even more. Where Rose was a cheerful open book, a trusting girl from the twenty-first century, the Doctor was a mysterious alien whose eyes hid more sorrow than he’d ever seen in his life. He longed to wrap his arms around the other man and take some of the burden away.
And that wasn’t his usual habit at all. Get laid. Enjoy it. Have a good time. And then, when he and his partner had both had enough, walk away with a smile and a cheerful goodbye. No involvement. No messy emotions. No sharing of intimate details of personal histories, no confidences, no expecting reassurances and comfort from the other person. It was all about sex, and that was the only thing that mattered.
Why was this different? Why did he even care? He was on this ship, and he still didn’t know why he’d been invited on board - other than to save his life - and had no clue why he was still here three days later. Why he hadn’t been shown the door as soon as they reached a habitable planet. He was here, but it was only temporary. Wasn’t it? He’d be gone in a day or two, probably. And the Doctor would have Rose all to himself again. No more sharing.
Ignoring the glass beside him, his grip on the bottle tightened and he brought it straight to his mouth. Warm liquid ran along his tongue, filled his throat, clouded his mind.
The Doctor. Sex on legs, but so much more. So much more to him, and not just his awesome intelligence and knowledge. The pain he was obviously living with. That way he had of leaping from joy to misery in a single blink of an eye. The way he simply cared, about the universe, about people, about the fate of even a single person.
He wanted to know more about the Doctor. He wanted to know the Doctor: what made him tick, what troubled him so much, what great trauma he had survived. Wanted to help make him better. And, if that wasn’t possible, to offer him comfort, to help him forget.
He’d never felt that way about another man before. Women, yes. He had a tendency to be protective of them. But men? Sex was good, but there’d never been any feeling involved. Actually, as far as he remembered, feelings had never truly been involved with women either. Okay, there’d been Mary, but... that was a long time ago. Centuries ago, in terms of time-travel. Where they were now, she was long gone. Forgotten. And even what his young twenty-one-year-old self had felt for her paled in comparison to the way his heart jumped whenever his travelling companion came into view.
“Fancy some company?”
He almost dropped the bottle. His shaky hands placed it back onto the table. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and pushed his glass away.
“I see you found the bar...”
“And not even a peanut. Want a drink?”
“What is it with you humans and peanuts?” The Doctor shook his head and grabbed the bottle from Jack to pour himself a glass.
“Where’s Rose?”
A pair of dark eyes darted to him at the mention of their female companion. Was it jealousy he detected in the furrowed brow and tight jaw?
“Asleep in her room, I assume. You tired her out with all that dancing.”
“I’d have swapped partners if you’d looked a bit less reluctant to waltz.”
The Doctor grinned from over the rim of his glass. “Would you really?”
Now, that sounded like a challenge. “You doubt me?”
The Doctor didn’t reply. Instead, he strolled over to the opposite wall and flicked a switch. Music filled the room.
Not a waltz, nor Glenn Miller. Not rock and roll either, this. Ah, he recognised it, only too well. A popular dance from his time. One that could be performed with multiple partners, or just one. And, right now, he had just one. The Doctor, who was turning back to him with that feral grin he’d seen just once before, when he’d welcomed him to the TARDIS.
Yes, definitely a challenge. And one he was more than up to.
He glanced at the tequila bottle, but decided that he didn’t need any more alcohol. He was on enough of a high as it was.
Five... six... seven paces, and he’d reached the Doctor, who was simply standing, eyebrows raised, waiting for him. And he held out a hand in invitation.
His hand was taken. The Doctor took a step towards him. Placed his other hand on Jack’s waist. He moved closer, too, and laid his free hand at the Doctor’s waist. And then they were dancing.
This was an intricate dance, unusual for his time, and required a lot of concentration. It wasn’t the best dance to attempt when you were half-drunk but, hey, he was always up for a challenge.
And that was definitely what this was. The Doctor’s gaze never left his. Daring him to blink. Daring him to break eye contact. Daring him to back down.
Not a chance.
This was nothing like the way the Doctor danced with Rose. For those two, dancing was fun and laughter and teasing - sometimes. At other times, it was the most intimate thing he’d seen outside a bedroom. The way they held each other, looked at each other, clung to each other... they were making love to each other, fully clothed, in full view of him, and they just didn’t care. Didn’t seem to realise it, more like.
This... this was like a duel.
The Doctor was an expert at this, there was no doubting it. Where he’d learned it, let alone become practised enough to perform the steps and move his body without taking his eyes off his partner for one moment, he’d love to know. And just who he’d practised it with.
He could drown in those blue eyes. Earlier, dancing with Rose, her brown eyes had gazed into his and he’d wanted to drown in those. Did they have any idea, the two of them, what they were doing to him? Probably not; they seemed to have no inkling of what they did to each other.
Maybe it was time they found out. Yeah, that was a plan. Wasn’t it? Right. Definitely a plan.
After all, here was the Doctor, holding him close, gazing into his eyes in an almost intimate way. Their hips brushing occasionally in the movement of the dance. And, god, did the Time Lord have any idea how much this was turning him on?
He leaned forward. Just a couple of inches was all he needed. And then he was kissing the Doctor, his lips pressed against the other man’s. Parted, in an open-mouthed kiss, pushing and teasing, demanding that his partner allow him access to his mouth.
And, suddenly, he did. Heat spiralled between them as tongues tangled and lips clung and explored. The dance was forgotten. His hands went to the Doctor’s hips, pulling the other man tightly against him, bringing their bodies into full contact.
And, god, this was really happening. He was kissing, being kissed by a Time Lord. Not just any Time Lord; the Time Lord.
He slid one hand up under the Doctor’s leather jacket, finding the point where the woollen jumper was tucked into the black jeans. One tug released the fabric, and then his hand was on the Doctor’s back, finding cool skin. Another fact of Time Lord biology: body temperature was lower than that of humans.
And then, abruptly, the kiss was broken. Glittering blue eyes stared into his. The grin on the Doctor’s face was twisted, almost malicious. “I think you’re drunk, Captain.”
***
Eyes shrouded in desire stared into his. He’d known right from the first moment he stepped in here that joining Jack Harkness for a drink could lead to more than he was ready for. He hadn’t expected things to go quite that far. Moreover, he hadn’t expected to enjoy it.
Accusing Jack of not being quite himself had been the easy way out. It was true, though. There was something even more predatory than usual about the way Jack looked at him, in the way his hand was splayed across his back, in the way his leg had somehow slid between his while dancing.
Letting go, he dropped down onto the couch and adopted what he believed was a relaxed attitude. Control was everything. Showing the Captain how much his kisses had affected him was never going to get him anywhere. Or rather, it would get him where he didn’t want to go.
He watched Jack run a hand through his hair and stumble over to sit on the big armchair near the couch.
“M’not drunk. Just had a glass or two.”
“Or seven or eight.”
“Nah. After the second one I just drank from the bottle.”
“You’re drunk.”
“I can hold my alcohol.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Your fault for keeping tequila in here.”
The Doctor shook his head and grabbed the half-empty bottle from the coffee table. “I kept it for special occasions. Not sure I drank more than a glass before... tonight.”
“Wasn’t full when I got here.”
Short answers. Short questions, and short answers. Short answers and always that pair of eyes staring at him, daring him to challenge what just happened. Everything with Jack ended up in a challenge.
“What is it, Doctor? Don’t fancy a shag?”
A raised eyebrow. That was all he could answer. Trust Jack to go straight to the point. No circling around the issue. No foreplay. Few people had ever dared challenge him. And in fact, Jack was probably the first one to come on to him this way. It was... refreshing.
“You’re too drunk to follow through anyway, even in the very remote chance I did say yes.”
“C’mon, you had your share of drinks, too. If that’s what it takes to make you forget our lovely blonde...”
Rose.
Rose...
The same name, always the same name, running through his mind, warming his blood, tightening his hearts. And, judging by the look on his face when he’d said her name, she obviously had the same effect on Jack.
He should be jealous. He should want Jack out of the picture. But Jack was what kept him safe. What kept him sane. With Jack around, there was no risk of confessing how he felt towards his young travelling companion. He wouldn’t tell her how he felt, how much he longed to kiss her, to... to do so much more with her.
Rose. Always Rose.
Rose, Rose, Rose... “Rose...”
He was obsessed with her. Dancing with her tonight, even for just a short moment, had woken parts of him he’d long forgotten. He hadn’t even realised he was turning into a sexless phantom, until... until Rose came along, a boisterous blonde tornado that toppled his world upside down.
Jack dragged himself to sit beside him on the couch. His closeness brought the Doctor back to the present.
“Rose, yes. I know you like her,” Jack said, an accusatory finger waggling at him. “Can’t blame ya. I like her, too. Nice butt, she’s got. Mind you, so do you.” The hand he’d raised touched his waist then slid under him, as if to prove his point.
What was it about this man that turned him on every time he touched him? He kept his own breathing under control - bless his alien condition that helped him hide physical reactions more than humans ever could. Jack leaned towards him. His free hand slid up his chest and he got closer, so close the Doctor could smell the tequila on his breath.
“What’re you guys doin’?”
The hands touching him immediately slid out from under and over him. Suddenly, the safe space between Jack and him was back, and the Captain wore an almost innocent look as Rose, wearing only an oversized T-shirt, made her way into the room.
“I thought you were asleep,” Jack said, sounding amazingly sober.
“I was. But then I heard the music, and...”
Jack seemed to shift uncomfortably, then he reached for the remote and switched off the stereo. The Doctor hadn’t even realised it was still running.
“I’m not... interrupting something, am I?”
“No! Not at all!”
Jack wrapped an arm around Rose’s waist to tug her onto his lap just as she grabbed the forgotten bottle from the Doctor’s hand. With a little yelp, she caught at Jack’s shoulder to steady herself.
“Tequila? Which one of you’s smashed? Or is that both?”
“I’m not drunk,” he pointed out, his tone showing injured offence. “Only had one.”
“And the rest,” Jack said with a grin. He leaned forward and began to nuzzle Rose’s neck. The Doctor growled.
“Don’t see why I should be the only sober one,” Rose announced, and took a deep swig from the bottle. He groaned again. Was he going to have two drunk companions on his hands now?
And she was still sitting on Jack’s lap. And her T-shirt had ridden up, revealing shapely thighs. Had she any idea at all what she was doing to him?
He’d leave - walk out, get away from this alternating temptation and torture - except that would leave the two of them together. And, given Jack’s state of drunkenness and the fact that Rose seemed quite happy to head in the same direction, it was pretty obvious what would end up happening.
He had no intention of leaving them alone to get on with it, or of ending up in the console room or his bedroom imagining the two of them together.
He knew he sounded grumpy when he spoke. “Why exactly are you sitting on Jack’s lap, Rose?”
She smiled at him, one of her flirtatious smiles, which was just what he didn’t need right now. “He invited me. Didn’t see you inviting me to sit on your lap, Doctor.” And she took another drink.
“She’s got a point, Doctor.” Jack raised his head from his contemplation of Rose’s neck. “ ‘M willing to share, though. ‘M sure Rose’d be happy to sit on your lap for a few minutes.”
“You’d be better off sobering up, Captain.”
Rose shook her head. “Spoilsport, Doctor. What’s wrong with gettin’ a little drunk once in a while?”
He shot her a suspicious look at that. “You been drinking? I mean before
that.” He gestured to the bottle in her hand.
“Nah.” She grinned once more. “Jus’ happy.”
What’d got her in such a good mood? He was about to ask, but suddenly a hand was hooked around the back of his neck. And Jack was kissing him again, lips hard and demanding against his.
Jack. Kissing him. In front of Rose. Oh, god.
He pulled away with an effort. “What do - ”
And then he noticed that Rose was staring at him, an arrested, even fascinated expression on her face.
***
She only had one question about what she’d just seen. Had the Doctor kissed Jack back or not?
Well, maybe there was another question. Why wasn’t she jealous? Wasn’t as if he’d ever kissed her. Or was ever likely to, it seemed.
Though, considering what Jack had just done, why did she have to wait around for him to make up his mind?
Simple. She didn’t.
She shoved the tequila bottle into Jack’s hand and leaned forward, almost throwing herself at the Doctor, and kissed him.
His immediate reaction was shock; she could feel it in the rigidity of his lips against hers. But, as she persisted, she realised that he was relaxing against her, allowing the kiss. And then, as his arms closed around her, tugging her nearer to him, he was kissing her back.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him to her, her breasts pressed against the soft wool of his chest now. The steady double thump of his hearts beat against her body. And he was kissing her.
Hands roamed over her thighs. Warm, exploring hands, pushing her T-shirt up, smoothing over her bum, sliding between her legs, touching her everywhere - but not quite everywhere. Everywhere except where she was starting to burn for the touch of those hands. Those hands, or the hands currently wrapped around her upper body.
She moaned into the Doctor’s mouth. Kissing was good. Kissing was more than good. Being touched, stroked, was good. But she needed more.
Jack shifted underneath her. His hands were still busily stroking her, but now he was trailing kisses along the side of her neck and lower, to where the neckline of her T-shirt met bare flesh.
She turned around in a cat-like move to press her back against the Doctor’s chest. His hands at her waist slid under her t-shirt to stroke their way up her ribcage, and the delicious sensations they aroused tore her thoughts off their course for a moment.
Her own hands stilled on Jack’s shoulder. He was still kissing her collarbone, his lips sliding under her neckline, and her breath caught in her throat. She could feel the Doctor’s taut body beneath her, his soft sigh against her earlobe, his cool hands on her breasts.
Jack then tore his lips away from her skin and moved past her cheek. The soft moan she heard from the Doctor made her turn her head to watch the two men kiss with passion that matched her own.
A sudden wave of tenderness washed over her. Her friends. The two of them - Jack, though she’d known him only a few days, had quickly become a good friend, too. And the Doctor, her best mate. Now the rivalry between them seemed to have vanished, replaced by naked desire that must have been underlying it all along. Gone were the safe flirtatious words between the two of them. This was real. As real, as solid as the man under her, as real as the hands that kept doing wonderful things to her body.
She reached out to bury her hand in Jack’s hair. She stroked the soft, silky strands, then leaned down to press her lips against his forehead. He raised his head then, breaking away from the Doctor, to capture her lips with his. Their first kiss, she suddenly realised. Their first real kiss, right here, right now, and it was just as wonderful as she’d imagined in her wildest dreams.
Jack embraced her and lifted her from the Doctor, and she felt the Time Lord move behind her. She tore her lips away from Jack to rest her head on his shoulder, and both watched in fascination as the Doctor shed his leather jacket, then woollen jumper. He folded them carefully, then reached over to place them in a neat pile on the armchair.
He was naked underneath. Naked and perfect, bronze skin and taut muscles that flexed under her touch as she slid into his arms. She longed for his kiss. His touch. So much more, too. She’d dreamt of this almost ever since he stepped into her life, all mystery and darkness wrapped in a body to die for. Now he was here. He was hers. Hers and Jack’s.
Behind her, Jack slid from the couch to stand up. She frowned, taken aback by this sudden and unexpected change. Then she saw him reach for the bottle of tequila and gulp down more than was reasonable.
Frowning, she turned away from the Doctor and grabbed Jack by the waist to attract his attention again.
“You don’t need that,” she said when he turned to look down at her. She grabbed the bottle from his hand and placed it back onto the coffee table.
Jack stared at the Doctor for a moment, then at her, then back to the Doctor.
“I do.”
***
“I do.”
Two words. Two simple words, but they expressed the world of loneliness that had engulfed him all night. Funny how his mood could change. Tonight, he’d gone from despair to tipsiness back to that empty feeling of loss that ate him up inside.
He did need alcohol tonight, especially in the light of what was happening between the three of them. Being with them, like this, was more than he’d ever let himself imagine.
Tonight, somehow, it wasn’t enough.
A few weeks ago, he’d have been perfectly happy enjoying the moment for what it was. Sex for the sake of it. Sex with both sides of the human divide. Best of both worlds, eh? So why couldn’t he be happy to let go and get on with it?
The Doctor grabbed his hand and tugged him down to sit between Rose and him. He patted his arm. “Alcohol just hides what you don’t want to face now. Whatever it is, tomorrow it’ll still be here. And you’ll get a headache on top.”
“Experience talking, Doctor?”
What is it, Jack?
Nothing was spoken aloud, but he could hear the Doctor question him nonetheless.
What’s bugging you so much that you can’t talk to us about it?
Not words, really; more of an impression. But he still knew what he was being asked.
“Get out of my head!”
Another hand slid into his. “Can we help?”
Rose. Always caring. Always affectionate. Rose, who lived for the moment, who never thought of what tomorrow could bring. Rose, who was reaching over to kiss him again, her warm hand splayed across his cheek, her soft lips caressing his own with such tenderness he thought his heart would burst.
Rose, who had no clue that tomorrow the Doctor might just drop him off on a remote planet and tell him to get on with his life. It shouldn’t bother him. He was a grown-up, independent man. He didn’t need anyone in his life. He could take care of himself - he’d been doing it for the past year, after all. Jack Harkness, poor and lonesome space coward. Jack Harkness, criminal.
Was it like this when feelings got involved? Because if it was, he was damned if he ever got into sex with people he cared about again.
Don’t think about it.
Okay, so the Doctor wasn’t going to get out of his head. And easy for him to say - he wasn’t the one not in control of his life. He’d lost his ship, his independence and obviously his heart on that very first night. And he hadn’t even realised it until tonight.
Live for the moment.
And that time he wasn’t even sure if it was the Doctor, or his own casual, careless self trying to reassert himself. Still, that notion was simpler for a nine-hundred-year-old alien to achieve than a mere mortal human being.
Kiss me again.
His own desires, or the Doctor’s demand? He didn’t really care.
And that he could do. A hand hooked around the Doctor’s neck and pulled him down to him. The fear, the longing he couldn’t voice was conveyed in the despair of his kiss.
Oh yeah, that he could do. Easily. Over and over.
***
He couldn’t really tell what was bothering Jack, other than some vague sense of loneliness, drifting, lack of purpose. Nothing that couldn’t be sorted out with a proper conversation about the bloke’s future, the conversation he’d been putting off ever since he’d rescued Jack from his soon-to-explode ship.
Couldn’t put it off any longer, though. Would have to be tomorrow. Not tonight - Jack was too drunk, and anyway, it seemed like they all had better things to do...
God, he’d wanted this kiss with Jack since the bloke had stood leaning against the strut watching him dance with Rose. He’d known that Jack just couldn’t decide which of them he’d wanted to dance with more, and that had pleased him even as he’d enjoyed his triumph with Rose.
Rose... She was climbing onto Jack’s lap now, alternately kissing each of them wherever she could. One hand was driving him crazy, stroking his chest, brushing over an exposed nipple, pinching and caressing. Her other hand was somewhere on Jack; he couldn’t tell.
No jealousy. Somewhere in the recesses of whatever part of his brain was still conscious and functioning told him that. This was Rose, his Rose, and she was paying as much attention to Jack as she was to him, and Jack was touching her as freely as he himself was... and he wasn’t jealous. Not one bit. In fact, when he’d seen her kiss Jack a few minutes ago it’d made him even harder. Made him want her - want them ¬- even more.
He had to kiss her again... Breaking away from Jack, he almost fell on her, tugging her bottom lip into his mouth, sliding his tongue forward, tasting and exploring her. Need driving desire driving passion...
She tore away from him, and he reached for her, feeling bereft. “Too many clothes,” she gasped, and he realised she was talking to Jack. That she’d been touching him during that kiss.
He took in the T-shirt and jeans the other man was still wearing. “Yeah. Agreed.”
Between them, they stripped off Jack’s T-shirt, though he made it difficult by running his hands over the Doctor’s naked torso while they worked. He wasn’t surprised to find sculpted biceps, a six-pack abdomen and broad shoulders that he wanted - needed - to feel beneath his hands and his mouth. Rose had the same idea; they bumped noses as they each turned their attention to Jack, and he just had to kiss her again first.
“Not fair,” Jack said, breathless, after a few minutes. “How come you get to be still dressed, Rose?”
Bit of a cheek saying that, since the bloke had his hand up under her T-shirt anyway. Not that he was going to object to the idea.
“Oi!” she protested. “I got nothing on under it.”
He already knew that, but still... god, could he want her any more than he already did?
“If I take it off, you two have to lose the rest of what you’ve got on.”
Jack was already stripping off his jeans before Rose had finished speaking. He couldn’t back out now; wouldn’t let either of them call him a coward. Lifting Rose gently off him, he stood and removed his own jeans, letting them fall to the floor.
And the two of them turned to Rose, stood, naked, watching her. Waiting.
She got to her feet and looked from one to the other. And then smiled. And, very deliberately, her tongue peeping from between her teeth, she reached for the hem of her T-shirt.
Two seconds later, it fell to the floor, and she was revealed, naked and beautiful, to his gaze for the first time.
***
They were gorgeous, the two of them. Just beautiful. And they were hers.
They were really going to do it. At last. Her Doctor was going to make love to her. It was what she’d wanted... god, almost since she’d first looked at him and he’d said “Run!” in that sexy, husky voice of his. And definitely since he’d held her hand in that morgue in 1869.
And Jack... she’d wanted him ever since she’d landed in his arms. That dance on top of his spaceship... god, he could’ve stripped off her clothes and shagged her there and then and she’d never have said a word.
The Doctor stepped forward, closer, his hands landing on her, one on her shoulder, the other sliding into her hair. “Rose.” And that husky voice was back. “You sure you want to do this?”
She stared back at him. How could he possibly have any doubt at all? Didn’t he know how much she loved him, let alone wanted him? “God, yeah. Don’t stop now!”
He kissed her again, hard and demanding, and she sagged against him. Then Jack was behind her, kissing her neck, her shoulders, and easing her back, down, onto the floor, coming down beside her as the Doctor, barely breaking the kiss, crouched on her other side.
“You sure we can’t do this somewhere we won’t get carpet burns?” she heard the Doctor mutter briefly before his lips plundered hers again. Jack didn’t answer. He was too busy trailing kisses over her left breast, pausing every so often to draw her nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping, making her catch her breath.
And then she had a mouth at each of her breasts, hands trailing fire everywhere over her body, and soft voices murmuring words she was barely aware of to her.
“You sure, Rose?” Insistent, this time, demanding an answer.
Writhing, twisting, reaching for them - either of them - wanting, needing more, she moaned. Pleaded. “Please... please, now...”
He was kneeling between her thighs now, her Doctor, his hands where she needed them to be, his fingers making her cry out. But she wanted him there...
And then he was.
Sliding inside her, filling her, making her complete. His eyes never left hers, an unspoken message being communicated.
Love you.
“I love you, Doctor.”
A movement next to her caught her attention, breaking her focus on the Doctor. Jack, sitting back on his heels, expression withdrawn. She reached for him, pulling him back to her, hooking her hand around his neck to bring him down beside her so she could kiss him again. They weren’t leaving him out. They weren’t.
He was as much part of this as the two of them. She might love the Doctor, but Jack was fast stealing a corner of her heart as well.
***
I love you, Doctor.
It was like a bucket of cold water thrown at him.
I love you, *Doctor*.
Of course she loved the Doctor. He’d seen it right from the first moment he’d seen the two of them together. The hidden glances they shot to each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking, the longing in their eyes, the way their fingers lingered on each other when they touched.
For a few minutes back there, he’d thought everything was okay. He’d thought he was their equal, that they wanted him as much as he wanted both of them. Well, desire was there all right. But he wasn’t the loved one. He wasn’t...
His thoughts trailed off as Rose arched her back to hook her hands around his neck and bring him down to her. He kissed her, abandoning himself to the feelings he could never express. A large hand in his hair told him that the Doctor, too, was doing his best to include him in the intimate moment he was sharing with Rose.
But then it was gone, and Rose was tearing her lips away from his to kiss the man who was thrusting into her. The man who loved her.
The man she loved.
Lovingly, longingly, he caressed her head, wiping her hair off her face as she whimpered against the Doctor’s shoulder. Rose. Oh, Rose. His lips grazed her temple, and he felt small, trembling fingers sliding down his arm to grasp his hand. She guided him down her body, giving him time to explore every curve, showing him with the pressure of her hand how much his caress was affecting her.
Encouraged by her reactions, he lowered his mouth to her neck. The Doctor sought his attention then, taking his lips with his and sliding his tongue into his mouth even as he kept making love to Rose.
Rose’s hand suddenly stopped moving against his, and he felt it tense around his fingers. In one final whimper, she breathed out her pleasure, a whisper of the Time Lord’s name escaping her lips.
Spent, the Doctor collapsed onto Rose, muffling his breathlessness into her neck.
Silence settled in the room, troubled only by the soft humming of the TARDIS engines. Then the Doctor was rising onto his elbows and reaching for him.
He let the two of them push him down to lie on the floor. Rose settled his head onto her lap and caressed his hair while the Doctor kissed his way up his chest and finally took his lips in a kiss he’d longed for. Jack wrapped his arms around him, needing to feel his closeness, to know that he was being loved just like Rose a few minutes earlier.
The Doctor’s mouth left his to trail a path down his neck, then it was on his chest, his tongue circling around a nipple and eliciting more desire than he’d felt until now. His hand buried in the Time Lord’s hair, Jack pressed his lover’s head against him, needing to feel that intimate contact and reassure himself that it was real.
If sex was all these two had to offer him, he’d take it and fool himself, just for now, that it meant more.
Rose had shifted. She was leaning over him, her blonde hair grazing his collarbone as she kissed and nibbled and worked wonders on his still tense muscles.
Closing his eyes, he focused on the sensations around him. Hands roamed down his ribcage. Lips caressed his skin. Hearts beat against his chest. Sighs merged. If this was heaven, he wanted to die right then, right there, in the Doctor’s arms, with Rose holding his hand and kissing him senseless.
Before he knew what was happening, the Doctor’s hands were on his thighs. He raised his head to look at the man whose mystery was a constant turn-on to him. Their gaze met. In the Doctor’s eyes, he could read the physical desire he felt against him, the passion he’d witnessed earlier when the Doctor had made love to Rose, and something else. Something... something unreadable.
Always hiding your real intentions, Doctor? Just like your feelings.
All coherent thought fled him when the Doctor touched his tip with his lips. Pure need shot through him. His hands fisted on either side of him. Rose then bent down to kiss him, and he kissed her back, shoving his hands in her hair to tug her close to him, focusing all his attention on the woman in his arms and trying to ignore the torturous path of the Doctor’s tongue on his penis.
“Jack...”
His name on the Doctor’s lips. How much had he dreamt of this?
Reluctantly, he tore his lips away from Rose’s and looked down to the Doctor kneeling between his legs, his mouth so close, oh so close to him.
What was he waiting for?
“Doc...tor,” he stammered, the hoarse, choked whisper very much reminiscent of the way Rose had exhaled the same word a few minutes earlier.
“Tell me.”
Jack blinked. Tell him? Tell him what? That he wanted him? That he needed him? That he wanted to feel his mouth bring him to the brink of ecstasy? That he ached to do the same for him? That this was more than a roll in the hay for him? That his heart beat faster every time he came into view, that he longed to take him in his arms and show him he was not alone in the universe?
Shit, but what was he waiting for?
“Tell me! Tell me what’s wrong, Jack. I can’t help if you keep it to yourself.”
Help? The Doctor wanted to help? Well, there was one goddamned way of helping him right now.
He grabbed the Doctor’s head, fighting the temptation to be wicked enough to tug him by the ears, and pulled him down to where he was so hard and dying for completion.
The Doctor turned his head away, though, and shifted out of Jack’s grasp.
“Tell me,” he insisted. “Tell me, and I’ll give you...” His eyes lit up and he trailed a finger down Jack’s belly. “Everything you want.”
“What is this?” He recoiled, jack-knifing his body, sitting up with his arms wrapped protectively around his knees. “A pity fuck before you throw me out?”
“Jack!” Rose sounded hurt - and concerned. “Nobody’s throwing you out!”
“Rose, you’re a sweetheart. An’... and I love you. Love you l...lots.” God, he was drunk. “But you’re too naïve to know what’s really going on. He doesn’t trust me.” He jerked his head towards the Doctor. “Never did. An’ I told him he was right not to, anyway, so ’s not as if I can complain about that. He’s just waiting until he finds the right planet, someplace he thinks I can do the least harm, an’ then I’m gone. Till then, I’m just hangin’ around this place waiting for the axe to fall.”
Warm arms were wrapped around him from behind, but he ignored them, huddled into himself. And then a hand was laid heavily on his shoulder. “Jack. Look at me.”
He ignored the Doctor’s command.
“Look at me.”
Slowly, belligerently, he looked up. The Doctor... was there only one of him? Almost looked like there were two.
“No-one ever tell you that jumping to conclusions is a bad idea?”
He looked away. Didn’t matter what the Doctor said; he knew what was happening.
The Doctor stood, and in his peripheral vision he noticed him walk to where he’d left his clothes. Okay. So the fun and games was over now. Now that he’d called them on their pity. Only surprising that Rose hadn’t already let go of him.
But then the Doctor was coming back. He dropped to his knees again, and held out his hand. “Here. Been carrying this around for a few days now, waiting for the right moment.”
What was he talking about? Reluctantly, Jack turned his head. A small, very blurry silver object rested in the Doctor’s palm.
A key.
“TARDIS key,” the Doctor explained after a moment.
“What?”
“Oh, for...” Rolled eyes. Right. He had this habit of rubbing the Doctor up the wrong way. “Jack, don’t be such a bloody fool. I decided you were stayin’ the first night you were here.”
He blinked. The almost-two Doctors resolved themselves into one. “You did?”
“Yep.”
He accepted the key, closing his fist around it. “Don’t really know what to say.”
“How about yes, you’d like to stay?” Rose suggested. “Or maybe even thanks?”
“Or ‘sorry I was such a stupid ape’?” the Doctor added.
Almost against his will, he grinned. “Guess I was, a bit.”
“You were.” His chin was taken in a hard, firm grasp, and then cool lips were on his again, tasting, tormenting, a kiss as demanding as it was punishing.
“But that’s not the real problem, is it, Jack?” The kiss was no sooner broken than the Doctor was talking again. Relentless, insistent, demanding information.
And Rose was pressing kisses against the side of his neck, her arms still wrapped around him, her breasts squashed against his back.
“Cause it wouldn’t be. Bein’ left somewhere by two people you’ve only known a few days wouldn’t turn a bloke like you to drink. It’s more than that.”
Shit. The Doctor was way too perceptive for his own good. Time to take back control of this situation.
He hooked one arm around the Doctor’s neck, pulling him down for a passionate, demanding kiss. The Doctor let him. With his free hand, and letting the key fall to the ground, he reached for Rose, stroking and caressing and then, breaking the kiss with the Doctor, turned to kiss her instead.
Turning, moving onto his knees, he pushed Rose gently back onto the floor and began to kiss his way down her body. She murmured her satisfaction, burying her hands in his hair.
“Have it your way - for now.” The Doctor’s hands were on him again, stroking him everywhere he wanted to be touched. Everywhere. And the Time Lord’s lips were on his.
He was being moved, guided... He was on top of Rose, lying between her thighs, and she was murmuring encouragement to him. The Doctor, on his side beside them, was nodding approval.
With a sigh, he pushed home. Arms closed around him. Hands were everywhere on his body. Lips were kissing, sucking, licking... nothing existed except soft sighs and gentle moans. Waves of sensation washing over him, tremors coursing through Rose beneath him... and then just an intense sense of peace.
“Jack.” A quiet voice, little more than a whisper. “Tell us.”
Rose, this time.
“It’s nothing. Honest.” And he didn’t even flinch at the lie.
***
Stubborn bloody human.
He’d known, of course, that Jack was damaged. Had taken him somewhat longer than usual to notice, to recognise a kindred spirit. It hadn’t been until Jack had mentioned his stolen memories that things had finally fallen into place - why a bloke who seemed to possess lots of natural talents, who’d once been a Time Agent, whose instincts seemed to be in the right place, despite his idiotic con. After all, he hadn’t turned tail and run at the first opportunity.
Damaged. And he supposed it was going to be his job to fix him.
Well, he’d had worse tasks. And tasks he’d had less appetite for.
But that was the answer, wasn’t it? Simple. It’d been staring him in the face all along.
He turned, lying on his side, next Jack. Catching Rose’s eye, he indicated that she should do the same. Deliberately trailing his hand down Jack’s body, paying particular attention to sensitive places, he murmured, “ ‘S all about memory, i’n’t it?”
“Huh?” Startled, Jack stared at him.
“Two years gone. Right? That’s what’s really botherin’ you. That’s what makes you drink on your own.”
Instead of answering, Jack pounced. Kissed him hard, bruisingly. Almost punishingly, he imagined. But that was okay. He could wait. Time Lord. All the time in the world, him.
“You can’t put it off indefinitely,” he told Jack once the other man paused for breath. “Answer me.”
Instead, Jack lay back and stared up at the ceiling. It was a long time before he spoke.
“Do you know who you are, Doctor? Do you, Rose? Course you do. Time Lord. Last of ‘em, sure, and I’m not pretending that’s easy for you, Doctor. But you know who you are. What you’ve done. You’ve done stuff you’re not proud of - and that’s a guess,” he added, as the Doctor flinched. “But you know you did it.”
He turned his head. “Rose. You know exactly who you are. You know why you’re here, with the Doctor. I’ll bet you’ve done things you’re ashamed of, as well as things you’re proud of. Fact is, you know what they are. Right?”
“Right,” Rose said, her voice quiet. She stroked her hand over Jack’s chest, clearly now in a gesture of comfort.
“Imagine not knowing.” The Doctor had to strain to hear Jack now; his voice was soft, too soft. “Imagine thinking - no, more than that, imagine being convinced that you did something terrible. Something that would justify someone deciding that you should be punished by losing two years of memories. Imagine having no idea what could be that terrible. Imagine all the things you could think of that it might be, and visualising yourself doing every one of them. That’s what bothers me, Rose. That’s what makes me drink, Doctor. Because I don’t know what I did.”
Instinct, nothing else, made him reach for and seize Jack’s hand.
What was worse? Knowing the terrible thing you’d done, relieving it every night in dreams? Or not knowing, and dreading what it might be?
Something was whispering to him that it might very well be the latter.
There was no doubt in his mind that he’d killed millions of people - among them, his people. Okay, the sacrifice had rid the universe of its worst nightmare. The Daleks were dead. All dead. Erased from space and time for ever. But his race was gone. Wiped from life along with the Daleks.
Many times, he’d woken from his nightmares wishing the Time War be wiped from his memory, wishing he didn’t have to live every day with the knowledge that he was a coward, a murderer who’d found no other way to end a war but to kill everyone involved.
Everyone but himself. It would have been easier if he'd died, too. But, no. He had to survive. The mass murderer lived on.
Many times, he’d wished he could forget.
Forget what he’d done.
Forget who he was.
Seeing Jack now, he could see that might have made things worse.
Know thine enemy.
At least he could fight his demons. Jack, on the other hand, had no clue what he’d done or how bad it was. Not knowing what you were up against meant losing every battle along the way. The fear, so visible in his eyes as he voiced it, was attacking him any moment, from any side, and there was no way for him to shut it down and send it back to a corner of his mind. It was everywhere, leaping onto him any chance it got. The unknown enemy.
“We’ll find a way. We’ll get your memories back, somehow.” His hold on Jack’s hand tightened. It was unusual for him to show his emotions or his attachment to someone - at least under this skin. He’d done it with Rose, but that was different. Rose was special. She was his companion, his protegée. The woman he...
Oh, for god’s sake, it was about time he admitted it, if just to himself!
The woman he loved.
But Jack... What was he to him? A rival first and foremost, and on so many counts. There had been London and his stupid mistake that had freed the nanogenes and turned people into gas-mask-wearing monsters. There was his apparent knowledge of the alien world, which tended to make him nervous. There was his annoying tendency to want to be right. And then there was their rivalry for Rose’s attention.
A rival, yes. A rival... and so much more, now.
Everything had changed tonight. His physical attraction to Jack had turned into something like the sort of affection he’d only felt towards Rose before. Seeing Jack make love to her had not brought out the same pang of jealousy he’d felt when the two of them had danced together earlier.
Now, he had to acknowledge that they’d become friends. More than friends. They were linked on an emotional level. In a way, even, equals. He was not used to that, and he was certain Jack wasn’t either.
“Find a way?” Jack looked incredulous, but there was a spark of hope in his eyes as he spoke. “You mean by preventing the Time Agency from wiping my memory in the first place?”
Hope. Hope he had to shatter, much as he wished he could do what Jack was asking of him.
He lowered his head. “You know I can’t do that.”
And Jack had to know it himself. That was clear, too, in the way the other man inclined his head, acknowledging the rightness of the reply. He was a time traveller. He’d been a Time Agent. He knew the rules, and knew which ones really couldn’t be broken.
“The Doctor will find a way, Jack.” Rose. The eternal optimist. Her faith in him amazed him, but tonight he wanted to believe her.
“We’ll find a way together.” Because, to do the kind of daring breaking-and-entering exercise he had in mind, he’d need Jack’s help. And because something told him that being part of the recovery effort would help Jack almost as much as getting his memories back.
“And in the meantime,” Rose continued, a wicked smile on her face, “let’s live for the moment.”
Jack hadn’t moved. He was still lying on his back, contemplating the ceiling, an arm resting across his stomach. Rose went for that hand first, grabbing it between her small hands and kissing each finger one after the other. He turned to her, a grateful smile on his face.
She was right. Somehow, this had changed from a bit of playfulness, and then the kind of sensuality he’d never expected to be able to indulge in with Rose, into a serious heart-to-heart. Soul-searching. And pure misery for Jack.
He mightn’t object to making the bloke suffer occasionally, simply because it was good for his soul. But not this kind of suffering.
Rose was right. It was time for a distraction - and, knowing Jack’s habits, he’d willingly let himself be distracted. Especially since he was about to be offered what he was well aware Jack wanted most.
***
God. And she’d thought the Doctor had it bad, with all his grief over the Time War. How would it feel to go through what Jack had?
Time that Jack stopped thinking about it. They were going to make sure he didn’t have time to brood. Not for the foreseeable future.
His lips covered hers, his kiss warm and affectionate this time, not passionate. He was thanking her. Though he didn’t need to do that. Stupid idiot, couldn’t he see that she cared about him? That they both did?
And then the Doctor was there too, bending over Jack, pushing her back gently so that he could kiss their friend, so that his hands could roam all over Jack’s body.
Content to watch, she sat back and let the two of them get on with it. She’d never even seen two men kiss before, let alone anything else. Mickey liked renting the odd porn movie, but refused to watch anything other than het or women on women.
Funny; she’d expected to be a little weirded out at seeing the two of them together - though watching them kissing hadn’t bothered her. This, though; the two of them, lying together on the floor, hands and lips everywhere, exploring each other’s bodies... all she could think was how beautiful they looked. The two of them - her men, making love to each other.
They didn’t speak, other than low murmurs of “that’s good” or “yeah, just there.” Hands stroked over limbs and torsos. Lips kissed and sucked, tongues trailed over bare expanses of flesh, over sensitive areas, eliciting moans and sighs.
And then they moved. She watched in fascination as the Doctor took Jack in his mouth, tracing a path expertly with his tongue first - no way he hadn’t done this before! - then letting his lips follow. Jack’s groan was audible, but he was shifting, reaching for the Doctor, mirroring his actions.
Their movements grew more frantic, and she felt her own breath catch as moans became louder and bodies began to jerk. And, finally, the two of them stilled and fell back against the floor, bodies glistening with the sheen of exertion.
A grin spread across Jack’s face. “Think you were right about those carpet-burns, Doctor.”
“I’m always right.” The Doctor was wearing a very smug grin. “So, what you want to do about it?”
“Well...” Jack’s smile encompassed the two of them. “I do happen to have a very large bed in my room...”
“Sounds good to me!” Rose jumped to her feet. “An’ since you two’ve been ignoring me for the past twenty minutes...”
“Then we best not ignore you any longer.” The Doctor wrapped his arm around her waist.
“Consider yourself definitely not ignored.” Jack’s arm went around her waist from the other side, and he nibbled lightly at her ear.
“Good.” And she looked from one of them to the other, grinning.
There were hours of the night left. Plenty of time for them to live up to their promises.
End
Authors: Kaethel (
kae_nine) & WMR (
wendymr)
Character/Pairing: Ninth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness (OT3)
Rating: M
Published: May 2006
Summary: Did they have any idea, the two of them, what they were doing to him? Probably not; they seemed to have no inkling of what they did to each other.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but boy do I enjoy torturing them...
A/N: With grateful thanks to
dark_aegis for coaxing, pleading, cheering, blushing, suggesting, encouraging, editing, woohoo-ing and generally BRing this story. We couldn't have finished it without your support!
Dancing in the Dark
by Kaethel & WMR
Ninety-nine green bottles hanging on the wall...
An old song he’d heard his grandfather sing many times. And old rhyme that was the only thing seeping through his clogged mind.
The normally-soft humming of the TARDIS sounded exceptionally loud tonight. It wasn’t as bad as the sharp, edge-cutting noise of the bottle-neck as it hit his glass. Not half-bad, this tequila. Some of the transparent liquor splashed onto his hand.
Back in his young days, beer was enough to get him drunk. You got more posh as you got older, he supposed. Stronger liquors were a necessary requirement to drown his sorrow these days. These days... Like he made a habit of drinking himself to oblivion.
He didn’t! No, he didn’t! And he’d deny it all if asked in court.
“Jack Harkness, have you ever got drunk on tequila?” He straightened his posture and mocked the tone of an old American judge he’d known in the late twentieth century.
He almost shouted his own answer. “No, Your Honor! On the Hol-Holy Bbbible, I swear I nnnnever... woul’never drink anythin’ but vod-vodka!”
A short, hollow laugh escaped his throat.
Idiot. What the hell was he doing, anyway? Sitting here in the semi-darkness, brooding. Hadn’t he done enough of that over the past year?
He was supposed to be all about the happy. That was him. Happy, fun-loving Jack Harkness. Want a good time? Give Jack a call. Looking for the life and soul of the party? Jack Harkness at your service.
Need someone to save the day, run into danger, risk his life to save the world... nah. Look somewhere else. Not his style. Too risky. Too much chance of getting killed.
Unbelievable, then, that for the sake of a gorgeous blonde and her darkly brooding, possessive boyfriend, he had actually saved the day. And almost died in the process.
Course, he wasn’t really her boyfriend. And she’d claimed to be available. Not that the Doctor seemed to accept that. Shame. Real shame. Especially as he liked Rose. Really liked her. Wanted to shag her until they were both mindless, of course. But he liked her, too.
If only...
He drained his glass and immediately refilled it. The bottle hit the table again with a loud bang, startling him from his half-drunk stupor. Sudden fascination for the label relieved his thoughts from Rose for a minute. He’d found the bottle in a cabinet set against the wall in this room, which looked like some sort of old-fashioned gentleman’s sitting-room, all leather chairs and wood panelling.
Did the Doctor drink as well? Did he actually get drunk? For all his knowledge about aliens, he’d never actually stopped to wonder if they could get drunk. If a Time Lord could get drunk. But then, he’d never met a Time Lord before. They looked so much like human beings it was hard to remember they weren’t from Earth.
They had two hearts, okay. What else did they have two of? A grin spread on his face as possibilities filled his mind. He pushed them away.
Thoughts of Rose were easier to process...
But the dark, handsome profile of the Doctor haunted his thoughts even more. Where Rose was a cheerful open book, a trusting girl from the twenty-first century, the Doctor was a mysterious alien whose eyes hid more sorrow than he’d ever seen in his life. He longed to wrap his arms around the other man and take some of the burden away.
And that wasn’t his usual habit at all. Get laid. Enjoy it. Have a good time. And then, when he and his partner had both had enough, walk away with a smile and a cheerful goodbye. No involvement. No messy emotions. No sharing of intimate details of personal histories, no confidences, no expecting reassurances and comfort from the other person. It was all about sex, and that was the only thing that mattered.
Why was this different? Why did he even care? He was on this ship, and he still didn’t know why he’d been invited on board - other than to save his life - and had no clue why he was still here three days later. Why he hadn’t been shown the door as soon as they reached a habitable planet. He was here, but it was only temporary. Wasn’t it? He’d be gone in a day or two, probably. And the Doctor would have Rose all to himself again. No more sharing.
Ignoring the glass beside him, his grip on the bottle tightened and he brought it straight to his mouth. Warm liquid ran along his tongue, filled his throat, clouded his mind.
The Doctor. Sex on legs, but so much more. So much more to him, and not just his awesome intelligence and knowledge. The pain he was obviously living with. That way he had of leaping from joy to misery in a single blink of an eye. The way he simply cared, about the universe, about people, about the fate of even a single person.
He wanted to know more about the Doctor. He wanted to know the Doctor: what made him tick, what troubled him so much, what great trauma he had survived. Wanted to help make him better. And, if that wasn’t possible, to offer him comfort, to help him forget.
He’d never felt that way about another man before. Women, yes. He had a tendency to be protective of them. But men? Sex was good, but there’d never been any feeling involved. Actually, as far as he remembered, feelings had never truly been involved with women either. Okay, there’d been Mary, but... that was a long time ago. Centuries ago, in terms of time-travel. Where they were now, she was long gone. Forgotten. And even what his young twenty-one-year-old self had felt for her paled in comparison to the way his heart jumped whenever his travelling companion came into view.
“Fancy some company?”
He almost dropped the bottle. His shaky hands placed it back onto the table. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and pushed his glass away.
“I see you found the bar...”
“And not even a peanut. Want a drink?”
“What is it with you humans and peanuts?” The Doctor shook his head and grabbed the bottle from Jack to pour himself a glass.
“Where’s Rose?”
A pair of dark eyes darted to him at the mention of their female companion. Was it jealousy he detected in the furrowed brow and tight jaw?
“Asleep in her room, I assume. You tired her out with all that dancing.”
“I’d have swapped partners if you’d looked a bit less reluctant to waltz.”
The Doctor grinned from over the rim of his glass. “Would you really?”
Now, that sounded like a challenge. “You doubt me?”
The Doctor didn’t reply. Instead, he strolled over to the opposite wall and flicked a switch. Music filled the room.
Not a waltz, nor Glenn Miller. Not rock and roll either, this. Ah, he recognised it, only too well. A popular dance from his time. One that could be performed with multiple partners, or just one. And, right now, he had just one. The Doctor, who was turning back to him with that feral grin he’d seen just once before, when he’d welcomed him to the TARDIS.
Yes, definitely a challenge. And one he was more than up to.
He glanced at the tequila bottle, but decided that he didn’t need any more alcohol. He was on enough of a high as it was.
Five... six... seven paces, and he’d reached the Doctor, who was simply standing, eyebrows raised, waiting for him. And he held out a hand in invitation.
His hand was taken. The Doctor took a step towards him. Placed his other hand on Jack’s waist. He moved closer, too, and laid his free hand at the Doctor’s waist. And then they were dancing.
This was an intricate dance, unusual for his time, and required a lot of concentration. It wasn’t the best dance to attempt when you were half-drunk but, hey, he was always up for a challenge.
And that was definitely what this was. The Doctor’s gaze never left his. Daring him to blink. Daring him to break eye contact. Daring him to back down.
Not a chance.
This was nothing like the way the Doctor danced with Rose. For those two, dancing was fun and laughter and teasing - sometimes. At other times, it was the most intimate thing he’d seen outside a bedroom. The way they held each other, looked at each other, clung to each other... they were making love to each other, fully clothed, in full view of him, and they just didn’t care. Didn’t seem to realise it, more like.
This... this was like a duel.
The Doctor was an expert at this, there was no doubting it. Where he’d learned it, let alone become practised enough to perform the steps and move his body without taking his eyes off his partner for one moment, he’d love to know. And just who he’d practised it with.
He could drown in those blue eyes. Earlier, dancing with Rose, her brown eyes had gazed into his and he’d wanted to drown in those. Did they have any idea, the two of them, what they were doing to him? Probably not; they seemed to have no inkling of what they did to each other.
Maybe it was time they found out. Yeah, that was a plan. Wasn’t it? Right. Definitely a plan.
After all, here was the Doctor, holding him close, gazing into his eyes in an almost intimate way. Their hips brushing occasionally in the movement of the dance. And, god, did the Time Lord have any idea how much this was turning him on?
He leaned forward. Just a couple of inches was all he needed. And then he was kissing the Doctor, his lips pressed against the other man’s. Parted, in an open-mouthed kiss, pushing and teasing, demanding that his partner allow him access to his mouth.
And, suddenly, he did. Heat spiralled between them as tongues tangled and lips clung and explored. The dance was forgotten. His hands went to the Doctor’s hips, pulling the other man tightly against him, bringing their bodies into full contact.
And, god, this was really happening. He was kissing, being kissed by a Time Lord. Not just any Time Lord; the Time Lord.
He slid one hand up under the Doctor’s leather jacket, finding the point where the woollen jumper was tucked into the black jeans. One tug released the fabric, and then his hand was on the Doctor’s back, finding cool skin. Another fact of Time Lord biology: body temperature was lower than that of humans.
And then, abruptly, the kiss was broken. Glittering blue eyes stared into his. The grin on the Doctor’s face was twisted, almost malicious. “I think you’re drunk, Captain.”
***
Eyes shrouded in desire stared into his. He’d known right from the first moment he stepped in here that joining Jack Harkness for a drink could lead to more than he was ready for. He hadn’t expected things to go quite that far. Moreover, he hadn’t expected to enjoy it.
Accusing Jack of not being quite himself had been the easy way out. It was true, though. There was something even more predatory than usual about the way Jack looked at him, in the way his hand was splayed across his back, in the way his leg had somehow slid between his while dancing.
Letting go, he dropped down onto the couch and adopted what he believed was a relaxed attitude. Control was everything. Showing the Captain how much his kisses had affected him was never going to get him anywhere. Or rather, it would get him where he didn’t want to go.
He watched Jack run a hand through his hair and stumble over to sit on the big armchair near the couch.
“M’not drunk. Just had a glass or two.”
“Or seven or eight.”
“Nah. After the second one I just drank from the bottle.”
“You’re drunk.”
“I can hold my alcohol.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Your fault for keeping tequila in here.”
The Doctor shook his head and grabbed the half-empty bottle from the coffee table. “I kept it for special occasions. Not sure I drank more than a glass before... tonight.”
“Wasn’t full when I got here.”
Short answers. Short questions, and short answers. Short answers and always that pair of eyes staring at him, daring him to challenge what just happened. Everything with Jack ended up in a challenge.
“What is it, Doctor? Don’t fancy a shag?”
A raised eyebrow. That was all he could answer. Trust Jack to go straight to the point. No circling around the issue. No foreplay. Few people had ever dared challenge him. And in fact, Jack was probably the first one to come on to him this way. It was... refreshing.
“You’re too drunk to follow through anyway, even in the very remote chance I did say yes.”
“C’mon, you had your share of drinks, too. If that’s what it takes to make you forget our lovely blonde...”
Rose.
Rose...
The same name, always the same name, running through his mind, warming his blood, tightening his hearts. And, judging by the look on his face when he’d said her name, she obviously had the same effect on Jack.
He should be jealous. He should want Jack out of the picture. But Jack was what kept him safe. What kept him sane. With Jack around, there was no risk of confessing how he felt towards his young travelling companion. He wouldn’t tell her how he felt, how much he longed to kiss her, to... to do so much more with her.
Rose. Always Rose.
Rose, Rose, Rose... “Rose...”
He was obsessed with her. Dancing with her tonight, even for just a short moment, had woken parts of him he’d long forgotten. He hadn’t even realised he was turning into a sexless phantom, until... until Rose came along, a boisterous blonde tornado that toppled his world upside down.
Jack dragged himself to sit beside him on the couch. His closeness brought the Doctor back to the present.
“Rose, yes. I know you like her,” Jack said, an accusatory finger waggling at him. “Can’t blame ya. I like her, too. Nice butt, she’s got. Mind you, so do you.” The hand he’d raised touched his waist then slid under him, as if to prove his point.
What was it about this man that turned him on every time he touched him? He kept his own breathing under control - bless his alien condition that helped him hide physical reactions more than humans ever could. Jack leaned towards him. His free hand slid up his chest and he got closer, so close the Doctor could smell the tequila on his breath.
“What’re you guys doin’?”
The hands touching him immediately slid out from under and over him. Suddenly, the safe space between Jack and him was back, and the Captain wore an almost innocent look as Rose, wearing only an oversized T-shirt, made her way into the room.
“I thought you were asleep,” Jack said, sounding amazingly sober.
“I was. But then I heard the music, and...”
Jack seemed to shift uncomfortably, then he reached for the remote and switched off the stereo. The Doctor hadn’t even realised it was still running.
“I’m not... interrupting something, am I?”
“No! Not at all!”
Jack wrapped an arm around Rose’s waist to tug her onto his lap just as she grabbed the forgotten bottle from the Doctor’s hand. With a little yelp, she caught at Jack’s shoulder to steady herself.
“Tequila? Which one of you’s smashed? Or is that both?”
“I’m not drunk,” he pointed out, his tone showing injured offence. “Only had one.”
“And the rest,” Jack said with a grin. He leaned forward and began to nuzzle Rose’s neck. The Doctor growled.
“Don’t see why I should be the only sober one,” Rose announced, and took a deep swig from the bottle. He groaned again. Was he going to have two drunk companions on his hands now?
And she was still sitting on Jack’s lap. And her T-shirt had ridden up, revealing shapely thighs. Had she any idea at all what she was doing to him?
He’d leave - walk out, get away from this alternating temptation and torture - except that would leave the two of them together. And, given Jack’s state of drunkenness and the fact that Rose seemed quite happy to head in the same direction, it was pretty obvious what would end up happening.
He had no intention of leaving them alone to get on with it, or of ending up in the console room or his bedroom imagining the two of them together.
He knew he sounded grumpy when he spoke. “Why exactly are you sitting on Jack’s lap, Rose?”
She smiled at him, one of her flirtatious smiles, which was just what he didn’t need right now. “He invited me. Didn’t see you inviting me to sit on your lap, Doctor.” And she took another drink.
“She’s got a point, Doctor.” Jack raised his head from his contemplation of Rose’s neck. “ ‘M willing to share, though. ‘M sure Rose’d be happy to sit on your lap for a few minutes.”
“You’d be better off sobering up, Captain.”
Rose shook her head. “Spoilsport, Doctor. What’s wrong with gettin’ a little drunk once in a while?”
He shot her a suspicious look at that. “You been drinking? I mean before
that.” He gestured to the bottle in her hand.
“Nah.” She grinned once more. “Jus’ happy.”
What’d got her in such a good mood? He was about to ask, but suddenly a hand was hooked around the back of his neck. And Jack was kissing him again, lips hard and demanding against his.
Jack. Kissing him. In front of Rose. Oh, god.
He pulled away with an effort. “What do - ”
And then he noticed that Rose was staring at him, an arrested, even fascinated expression on her face.
***
She only had one question about what she’d just seen. Had the Doctor kissed Jack back or not?
Well, maybe there was another question. Why wasn’t she jealous? Wasn’t as if he’d ever kissed her. Or was ever likely to, it seemed.
Though, considering what Jack had just done, why did she have to wait around for him to make up his mind?
Simple. She didn’t.
She shoved the tequila bottle into Jack’s hand and leaned forward, almost throwing herself at the Doctor, and kissed him.
His immediate reaction was shock; she could feel it in the rigidity of his lips against hers. But, as she persisted, she realised that he was relaxing against her, allowing the kiss. And then, as his arms closed around her, tugging her nearer to him, he was kissing her back.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him to her, her breasts pressed against the soft wool of his chest now. The steady double thump of his hearts beat against her body. And he was kissing her.
Hands roamed over her thighs. Warm, exploring hands, pushing her T-shirt up, smoothing over her bum, sliding between her legs, touching her everywhere - but not quite everywhere. Everywhere except where she was starting to burn for the touch of those hands. Those hands, or the hands currently wrapped around her upper body.
She moaned into the Doctor’s mouth. Kissing was good. Kissing was more than good. Being touched, stroked, was good. But she needed more.
Jack shifted underneath her. His hands were still busily stroking her, but now he was trailing kisses along the side of her neck and lower, to where the neckline of her T-shirt met bare flesh.
She turned around in a cat-like move to press her back against the Doctor’s chest. His hands at her waist slid under her t-shirt to stroke their way up her ribcage, and the delicious sensations they aroused tore her thoughts off their course for a moment.
Her own hands stilled on Jack’s shoulder. He was still kissing her collarbone, his lips sliding under her neckline, and her breath caught in her throat. She could feel the Doctor’s taut body beneath her, his soft sigh against her earlobe, his cool hands on her breasts.
Jack then tore his lips away from her skin and moved past her cheek. The soft moan she heard from the Doctor made her turn her head to watch the two men kiss with passion that matched her own.
A sudden wave of tenderness washed over her. Her friends. The two of them - Jack, though she’d known him only a few days, had quickly become a good friend, too. And the Doctor, her best mate. Now the rivalry between them seemed to have vanished, replaced by naked desire that must have been underlying it all along. Gone were the safe flirtatious words between the two of them. This was real. As real, as solid as the man under her, as real as the hands that kept doing wonderful things to her body.
She reached out to bury her hand in Jack’s hair. She stroked the soft, silky strands, then leaned down to press her lips against his forehead. He raised his head then, breaking away from the Doctor, to capture her lips with his. Their first kiss, she suddenly realised. Their first real kiss, right here, right now, and it was just as wonderful as she’d imagined in her wildest dreams.
Jack embraced her and lifted her from the Doctor, and she felt the Time Lord move behind her. She tore her lips away from Jack to rest her head on his shoulder, and both watched in fascination as the Doctor shed his leather jacket, then woollen jumper. He folded them carefully, then reached over to place them in a neat pile on the armchair.
He was naked underneath. Naked and perfect, bronze skin and taut muscles that flexed under her touch as she slid into his arms. She longed for his kiss. His touch. So much more, too. She’d dreamt of this almost ever since he stepped into her life, all mystery and darkness wrapped in a body to die for. Now he was here. He was hers. Hers and Jack’s.
Behind her, Jack slid from the couch to stand up. She frowned, taken aback by this sudden and unexpected change. Then she saw him reach for the bottle of tequila and gulp down more than was reasonable.
Frowning, she turned away from the Doctor and grabbed Jack by the waist to attract his attention again.
“You don’t need that,” she said when he turned to look down at her. She grabbed the bottle from his hand and placed it back onto the coffee table.
Jack stared at the Doctor for a moment, then at her, then back to the Doctor.
“I do.”
***
“I do.”
Two words. Two simple words, but they expressed the world of loneliness that had engulfed him all night. Funny how his mood could change. Tonight, he’d gone from despair to tipsiness back to that empty feeling of loss that ate him up inside.
He did need alcohol tonight, especially in the light of what was happening between the three of them. Being with them, like this, was more than he’d ever let himself imagine.
Tonight, somehow, it wasn’t enough.
A few weeks ago, he’d have been perfectly happy enjoying the moment for what it was. Sex for the sake of it. Sex with both sides of the human divide. Best of both worlds, eh? So why couldn’t he be happy to let go and get on with it?
The Doctor grabbed his hand and tugged him down to sit between Rose and him. He patted his arm. “Alcohol just hides what you don’t want to face now. Whatever it is, tomorrow it’ll still be here. And you’ll get a headache on top.”
“Experience talking, Doctor?”
What is it, Jack?
Nothing was spoken aloud, but he could hear the Doctor question him nonetheless.
What’s bugging you so much that you can’t talk to us about it?
Not words, really; more of an impression. But he still knew what he was being asked.
“Get out of my head!”
Another hand slid into his. “Can we help?”
Rose. Always caring. Always affectionate. Rose, who lived for the moment, who never thought of what tomorrow could bring. Rose, who was reaching over to kiss him again, her warm hand splayed across his cheek, her soft lips caressing his own with such tenderness he thought his heart would burst.
Rose, who had no clue that tomorrow the Doctor might just drop him off on a remote planet and tell him to get on with his life. It shouldn’t bother him. He was a grown-up, independent man. He didn’t need anyone in his life. He could take care of himself - he’d been doing it for the past year, after all. Jack Harkness, poor and lonesome space coward. Jack Harkness, criminal.
Was it like this when feelings got involved? Because if it was, he was damned if he ever got into sex with people he cared about again.
Don’t think about it.
Okay, so the Doctor wasn’t going to get out of his head. And easy for him to say - he wasn’t the one not in control of his life. He’d lost his ship, his independence and obviously his heart on that very first night. And he hadn’t even realised it until tonight.
Live for the moment.
And that time he wasn’t even sure if it was the Doctor, or his own casual, careless self trying to reassert himself. Still, that notion was simpler for a nine-hundred-year-old alien to achieve than a mere mortal human being.
Kiss me again.
His own desires, or the Doctor’s demand? He didn’t really care.
And that he could do. A hand hooked around the Doctor’s neck and pulled him down to him. The fear, the longing he couldn’t voice was conveyed in the despair of his kiss.
Oh yeah, that he could do. Easily. Over and over.
***
He couldn’t really tell what was bothering Jack, other than some vague sense of loneliness, drifting, lack of purpose. Nothing that couldn’t be sorted out with a proper conversation about the bloke’s future, the conversation he’d been putting off ever since he’d rescued Jack from his soon-to-explode ship.
Couldn’t put it off any longer, though. Would have to be tomorrow. Not tonight - Jack was too drunk, and anyway, it seemed like they all had better things to do...
God, he’d wanted this kiss with Jack since the bloke had stood leaning against the strut watching him dance with Rose. He’d known that Jack just couldn’t decide which of them he’d wanted to dance with more, and that had pleased him even as he’d enjoyed his triumph with Rose.
Rose... She was climbing onto Jack’s lap now, alternately kissing each of them wherever she could. One hand was driving him crazy, stroking his chest, brushing over an exposed nipple, pinching and caressing. Her other hand was somewhere on Jack; he couldn’t tell.
No jealousy. Somewhere in the recesses of whatever part of his brain was still conscious and functioning told him that. This was Rose, his Rose, and she was paying as much attention to Jack as she was to him, and Jack was touching her as freely as he himself was... and he wasn’t jealous. Not one bit. In fact, when he’d seen her kiss Jack a few minutes ago it’d made him even harder. Made him want her - want them ¬- even more.
He had to kiss her again... Breaking away from Jack, he almost fell on her, tugging her bottom lip into his mouth, sliding his tongue forward, tasting and exploring her. Need driving desire driving passion...
She tore away from him, and he reached for her, feeling bereft. “Too many clothes,” she gasped, and he realised she was talking to Jack. That she’d been touching him during that kiss.
He took in the T-shirt and jeans the other man was still wearing. “Yeah. Agreed.”
Between them, they stripped off Jack’s T-shirt, though he made it difficult by running his hands over the Doctor’s naked torso while they worked. He wasn’t surprised to find sculpted biceps, a six-pack abdomen and broad shoulders that he wanted - needed - to feel beneath his hands and his mouth. Rose had the same idea; they bumped noses as they each turned their attention to Jack, and he just had to kiss her again first.
“Not fair,” Jack said, breathless, after a few minutes. “How come you get to be still dressed, Rose?”
Bit of a cheek saying that, since the bloke had his hand up under her T-shirt anyway. Not that he was going to object to the idea.
“Oi!” she protested. “I got nothing on under it.”
He already knew that, but still... god, could he want her any more than he already did?
“If I take it off, you two have to lose the rest of what you’ve got on.”
Jack was already stripping off his jeans before Rose had finished speaking. He couldn’t back out now; wouldn’t let either of them call him a coward. Lifting Rose gently off him, he stood and removed his own jeans, letting them fall to the floor.
And the two of them turned to Rose, stood, naked, watching her. Waiting.
She got to her feet and looked from one to the other. And then smiled. And, very deliberately, her tongue peeping from between her teeth, she reached for the hem of her T-shirt.
Two seconds later, it fell to the floor, and she was revealed, naked and beautiful, to his gaze for the first time.
***
They were gorgeous, the two of them. Just beautiful. And they were hers.
They were really going to do it. At last. Her Doctor was going to make love to her. It was what she’d wanted... god, almost since she’d first looked at him and he’d said “Run!” in that sexy, husky voice of his. And definitely since he’d held her hand in that morgue in 1869.
And Jack... she’d wanted him ever since she’d landed in his arms. That dance on top of his spaceship... god, he could’ve stripped off her clothes and shagged her there and then and she’d never have said a word.
The Doctor stepped forward, closer, his hands landing on her, one on her shoulder, the other sliding into her hair. “Rose.” And that husky voice was back. “You sure you want to do this?”
She stared back at him. How could he possibly have any doubt at all? Didn’t he know how much she loved him, let alone wanted him? “God, yeah. Don’t stop now!”
He kissed her again, hard and demanding, and she sagged against him. Then Jack was behind her, kissing her neck, her shoulders, and easing her back, down, onto the floor, coming down beside her as the Doctor, barely breaking the kiss, crouched on her other side.
“You sure we can’t do this somewhere we won’t get carpet burns?” she heard the Doctor mutter briefly before his lips plundered hers again. Jack didn’t answer. He was too busy trailing kisses over her left breast, pausing every so often to draw her nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping, making her catch her breath.
And then she had a mouth at each of her breasts, hands trailing fire everywhere over her body, and soft voices murmuring words she was barely aware of to her.
“You sure, Rose?” Insistent, this time, demanding an answer.
Writhing, twisting, reaching for them - either of them - wanting, needing more, she moaned. Pleaded. “Please... please, now...”
He was kneeling between her thighs now, her Doctor, his hands where she needed them to be, his fingers making her cry out. But she wanted him there...
And then he was.
Sliding inside her, filling her, making her complete. His eyes never left hers, an unspoken message being communicated.
Love you.
“I love you, Doctor.”
A movement next to her caught her attention, breaking her focus on the Doctor. Jack, sitting back on his heels, expression withdrawn. She reached for him, pulling him back to her, hooking her hand around his neck to bring him down beside her so she could kiss him again. They weren’t leaving him out. They weren’t.
He was as much part of this as the two of them. She might love the Doctor, but Jack was fast stealing a corner of her heart as well.
***
I love you, Doctor.
It was like a bucket of cold water thrown at him.
I love you, *Doctor*.
Of course she loved the Doctor. He’d seen it right from the first moment he’d seen the two of them together. The hidden glances they shot to each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking, the longing in their eyes, the way their fingers lingered on each other when they touched.
For a few minutes back there, he’d thought everything was okay. He’d thought he was their equal, that they wanted him as much as he wanted both of them. Well, desire was there all right. But he wasn’t the loved one. He wasn’t...
His thoughts trailed off as Rose arched her back to hook her hands around his neck and bring him down to her. He kissed her, abandoning himself to the feelings he could never express. A large hand in his hair told him that the Doctor, too, was doing his best to include him in the intimate moment he was sharing with Rose.
But then it was gone, and Rose was tearing her lips away from his to kiss the man who was thrusting into her. The man who loved her.
The man she loved.
Lovingly, longingly, he caressed her head, wiping her hair off her face as she whimpered against the Doctor’s shoulder. Rose. Oh, Rose. His lips grazed her temple, and he felt small, trembling fingers sliding down his arm to grasp his hand. She guided him down her body, giving him time to explore every curve, showing him with the pressure of her hand how much his caress was affecting her.
Encouraged by her reactions, he lowered his mouth to her neck. The Doctor sought his attention then, taking his lips with his and sliding his tongue into his mouth even as he kept making love to Rose.
Rose’s hand suddenly stopped moving against his, and he felt it tense around his fingers. In one final whimper, she breathed out her pleasure, a whisper of the Time Lord’s name escaping her lips.
Spent, the Doctor collapsed onto Rose, muffling his breathlessness into her neck.
Silence settled in the room, troubled only by the soft humming of the TARDIS engines. Then the Doctor was rising onto his elbows and reaching for him.
He let the two of them push him down to lie on the floor. Rose settled his head onto her lap and caressed his hair while the Doctor kissed his way up his chest and finally took his lips in a kiss he’d longed for. Jack wrapped his arms around him, needing to feel his closeness, to know that he was being loved just like Rose a few minutes earlier.
The Doctor’s mouth left his to trail a path down his neck, then it was on his chest, his tongue circling around a nipple and eliciting more desire than he’d felt until now. His hand buried in the Time Lord’s hair, Jack pressed his lover’s head against him, needing to feel that intimate contact and reassure himself that it was real.
If sex was all these two had to offer him, he’d take it and fool himself, just for now, that it meant more.
Rose had shifted. She was leaning over him, her blonde hair grazing his collarbone as she kissed and nibbled and worked wonders on his still tense muscles.
Closing his eyes, he focused on the sensations around him. Hands roamed down his ribcage. Lips caressed his skin. Hearts beat against his chest. Sighs merged. If this was heaven, he wanted to die right then, right there, in the Doctor’s arms, with Rose holding his hand and kissing him senseless.
Before he knew what was happening, the Doctor’s hands were on his thighs. He raised his head to look at the man whose mystery was a constant turn-on to him. Their gaze met. In the Doctor’s eyes, he could read the physical desire he felt against him, the passion he’d witnessed earlier when the Doctor had made love to Rose, and something else. Something... something unreadable.
Always hiding your real intentions, Doctor? Just like your feelings.
All coherent thought fled him when the Doctor touched his tip with his lips. Pure need shot through him. His hands fisted on either side of him. Rose then bent down to kiss him, and he kissed her back, shoving his hands in her hair to tug her close to him, focusing all his attention on the woman in his arms and trying to ignore the torturous path of the Doctor’s tongue on his penis.
“Jack...”
His name on the Doctor’s lips. How much had he dreamt of this?
Reluctantly, he tore his lips away from Rose’s and looked down to the Doctor kneeling between his legs, his mouth so close, oh so close to him.
What was he waiting for?
“Doc...tor,” he stammered, the hoarse, choked whisper very much reminiscent of the way Rose had exhaled the same word a few minutes earlier.
“Tell me.”
Jack blinked. Tell him? Tell him what? That he wanted him? That he needed him? That he wanted to feel his mouth bring him to the brink of ecstasy? That he ached to do the same for him? That this was more than a roll in the hay for him? That his heart beat faster every time he came into view, that he longed to take him in his arms and show him he was not alone in the universe?
Shit, but what was he waiting for?
“Tell me! Tell me what’s wrong, Jack. I can’t help if you keep it to yourself.”
Help? The Doctor wanted to help? Well, there was one goddamned way of helping him right now.
He grabbed the Doctor’s head, fighting the temptation to be wicked enough to tug him by the ears, and pulled him down to where he was so hard and dying for completion.
The Doctor turned his head away, though, and shifted out of Jack’s grasp.
“Tell me,” he insisted. “Tell me, and I’ll give you...” His eyes lit up and he trailed a finger down Jack’s belly. “Everything you want.”
“What is this?” He recoiled, jack-knifing his body, sitting up with his arms wrapped protectively around his knees. “A pity fuck before you throw me out?”
“Jack!” Rose sounded hurt - and concerned. “Nobody’s throwing you out!”
“Rose, you’re a sweetheart. An’... and I love you. Love you l...lots.” God, he was drunk. “But you’re too naïve to know what’s really going on. He doesn’t trust me.” He jerked his head towards the Doctor. “Never did. An’ I told him he was right not to, anyway, so ’s not as if I can complain about that. He’s just waiting until he finds the right planet, someplace he thinks I can do the least harm, an’ then I’m gone. Till then, I’m just hangin’ around this place waiting for the axe to fall.”
Warm arms were wrapped around him from behind, but he ignored them, huddled into himself. And then a hand was laid heavily on his shoulder. “Jack. Look at me.”
He ignored the Doctor’s command.
“Look at me.”
Slowly, belligerently, he looked up. The Doctor... was there only one of him? Almost looked like there were two.
“No-one ever tell you that jumping to conclusions is a bad idea?”
He looked away. Didn’t matter what the Doctor said; he knew what was happening.
The Doctor stood, and in his peripheral vision he noticed him walk to where he’d left his clothes. Okay. So the fun and games was over now. Now that he’d called them on their pity. Only surprising that Rose hadn’t already let go of him.
But then the Doctor was coming back. He dropped to his knees again, and held out his hand. “Here. Been carrying this around for a few days now, waiting for the right moment.”
What was he talking about? Reluctantly, Jack turned his head. A small, very blurry silver object rested in the Doctor’s palm.
A key.
“TARDIS key,” the Doctor explained after a moment.
“What?”
“Oh, for...” Rolled eyes. Right. He had this habit of rubbing the Doctor up the wrong way. “Jack, don’t be such a bloody fool. I decided you were stayin’ the first night you were here.”
He blinked. The almost-two Doctors resolved themselves into one. “You did?”
“Yep.”
He accepted the key, closing his fist around it. “Don’t really know what to say.”
“How about yes, you’d like to stay?” Rose suggested. “Or maybe even thanks?”
“Or ‘sorry I was such a stupid ape’?” the Doctor added.
Almost against his will, he grinned. “Guess I was, a bit.”
“You were.” His chin was taken in a hard, firm grasp, and then cool lips were on his again, tasting, tormenting, a kiss as demanding as it was punishing.
“But that’s not the real problem, is it, Jack?” The kiss was no sooner broken than the Doctor was talking again. Relentless, insistent, demanding information.
And Rose was pressing kisses against the side of his neck, her arms still wrapped around him, her breasts squashed against his back.
“Cause it wouldn’t be. Bein’ left somewhere by two people you’ve only known a few days wouldn’t turn a bloke like you to drink. It’s more than that.”
Shit. The Doctor was way too perceptive for his own good. Time to take back control of this situation.
He hooked one arm around the Doctor’s neck, pulling him down for a passionate, demanding kiss. The Doctor let him. With his free hand, and letting the key fall to the ground, he reached for Rose, stroking and caressing and then, breaking the kiss with the Doctor, turned to kiss her instead.
Turning, moving onto his knees, he pushed Rose gently back onto the floor and began to kiss his way down her body. She murmured her satisfaction, burying her hands in his hair.
“Have it your way - for now.” The Doctor’s hands were on him again, stroking him everywhere he wanted to be touched. Everywhere. And the Time Lord’s lips were on his.
He was being moved, guided... He was on top of Rose, lying between her thighs, and she was murmuring encouragement to him. The Doctor, on his side beside them, was nodding approval.
With a sigh, he pushed home. Arms closed around him. Hands were everywhere on his body. Lips were kissing, sucking, licking... nothing existed except soft sighs and gentle moans. Waves of sensation washing over him, tremors coursing through Rose beneath him... and then just an intense sense of peace.
“Jack.” A quiet voice, little more than a whisper. “Tell us.”
Rose, this time.
“It’s nothing. Honest.” And he didn’t even flinch at the lie.
***
Stubborn bloody human.
He’d known, of course, that Jack was damaged. Had taken him somewhat longer than usual to notice, to recognise a kindred spirit. It hadn’t been until Jack had mentioned his stolen memories that things had finally fallen into place - why a bloke who seemed to possess lots of natural talents, who’d once been a Time Agent, whose instincts seemed to be in the right place, despite his idiotic con. After all, he hadn’t turned tail and run at the first opportunity.
Damaged. And he supposed it was going to be his job to fix him.
Well, he’d had worse tasks. And tasks he’d had less appetite for.
But that was the answer, wasn’t it? Simple. It’d been staring him in the face all along.
He turned, lying on his side, next Jack. Catching Rose’s eye, he indicated that she should do the same. Deliberately trailing his hand down Jack’s body, paying particular attention to sensitive places, he murmured, “ ‘S all about memory, i’n’t it?”
“Huh?” Startled, Jack stared at him.
“Two years gone. Right? That’s what’s really botherin’ you. That’s what makes you drink on your own.”
Instead of answering, Jack pounced. Kissed him hard, bruisingly. Almost punishingly, he imagined. But that was okay. He could wait. Time Lord. All the time in the world, him.
“You can’t put it off indefinitely,” he told Jack once the other man paused for breath. “Answer me.”
Instead, Jack lay back and stared up at the ceiling. It was a long time before he spoke.
“Do you know who you are, Doctor? Do you, Rose? Course you do. Time Lord. Last of ‘em, sure, and I’m not pretending that’s easy for you, Doctor. But you know who you are. What you’ve done. You’ve done stuff you’re not proud of - and that’s a guess,” he added, as the Doctor flinched. “But you know you did it.”
He turned his head. “Rose. You know exactly who you are. You know why you’re here, with the Doctor. I’ll bet you’ve done things you’re ashamed of, as well as things you’re proud of. Fact is, you know what they are. Right?”
“Right,” Rose said, her voice quiet. She stroked her hand over Jack’s chest, clearly now in a gesture of comfort.
“Imagine not knowing.” The Doctor had to strain to hear Jack now; his voice was soft, too soft. “Imagine thinking - no, more than that, imagine being convinced that you did something terrible. Something that would justify someone deciding that you should be punished by losing two years of memories. Imagine having no idea what could be that terrible. Imagine all the things you could think of that it might be, and visualising yourself doing every one of them. That’s what bothers me, Rose. That’s what makes me drink, Doctor. Because I don’t know what I did.”
Instinct, nothing else, made him reach for and seize Jack’s hand.
What was worse? Knowing the terrible thing you’d done, relieving it every night in dreams? Or not knowing, and dreading what it might be?
Something was whispering to him that it might very well be the latter.
There was no doubt in his mind that he’d killed millions of people - among them, his people. Okay, the sacrifice had rid the universe of its worst nightmare. The Daleks were dead. All dead. Erased from space and time for ever. But his race was gone. Wiped from life along with the Daleks.
Many times, he’d woken from his nightmares wishing the Time War be wiped from his memory, wishing he didn’t have to live every day with the knowledge that he was a coward, a murderer who’d found no other way to end a war but to kill everyone involved.
Everyone but himself. It would have been easier if he'd died, too. But, no. He had to survive. The mass murderer lived on.
Many times, he’d wished he could forget.
Forget what he’d done.
Forget who he was.
Seeing Jack now, he could see that might have made things worse.
Know thine enemy.
At least he could fight his demons. Jack, on the other hand, had no clue what he’d done or how bad it was. Not knowing what you were up against meant losing every battle along the way. The fear, so visible in his eyes as he voiced it, was attacking him any moment, from any side, and there was no way for him to shut it down and send it back to a corner of his mind. It was everywhere, leaping onto him any chance it got. The unknown enemy.
“We’ll find a way. We’ll get your memories back, somehow.” His hold on Jack’s hand tightened. It was unusual for him to show his emotions or his attachment to someone - at least under this skin. He’d done it with Rose, but that was different. Rose was special. She was his companion, his protegée. The woman he...
Oh, for god’s sake, it was about time he admitted it, if just to himself!
The woman he loved.
But Jack... What was he to him? A rival first and foremost, and on so many counts. There had been London and his stupid mistake that had freed the nanogenes and turned people into gas-mask-wearing monsters. There was his apparent knowledge of the alien world, which tended to make him nervous. There was his annoying tendency to want to be right. And then there was their rivalry for Rose’s attention.
A rival, yes. A rival... and so much more, now.
Everything had changed tonight. His physical attraction to Jack had turned into something like the sort of affection he’d only felt towards Rose before. Seeing Jack make love to her had not brought out the same pang of jealousy he’d felt when the two of them had danced together earlier.
Now, he had to acknowledge that they’d become friends. More than friends. They were linked on an emotional level. In a way, even, equals. He was not used to that, and he was certain Jack wasn’t either.
“Find a way?” Jack looked incredulous, but there was a spark of hope in his eyes as he spoke. “You mean by preventing the Time Agency from wiping my memory in the first place?”
Hope. Hope he had to shatter, much as he wished he could do what Jack was asking of him.
He lowered his head. “You know I can’t do that.”
And Jack had to know it himself. That was clear, too, in the way the other man inclined his head, acknowledging the rightness of the reply. He was a time traveller. He’d been a Time Agent. He knew the rules, and knew which ones really couldn’t be broken.
“The Doctor will find a way, Jack.” Rose. The eternal optimist. Her faith in him amazed him, but tonight he wanted to believe her.
“We’ll find a way together.” Because, to do the kind of daring breaking-and-entering exercise he had in mind, he’d need Jack’s help. And because something told him that being part of the recovery effort would help Jack almost as much as getting his memories back.
“And in the meantime,” Rose continued, a wicked smile on her face, “let’s live for the moment.”
Jack hadn’t moved. He was still lying on his back, contemplating the ceiling, an arm resting across his stomach. Rose went for that hand first, grabbing it between her small hands and kissing each finger one after the other. He turned to her, a grateful smile on his face.
She was right. Somehow, this had changed from a bit of playfulness, and then the kind of sensuality he’d never expected to be able to indulge in with Rose, into a serious heart-to-heart. Soul-searching. And pure misery for Jack.
He mightn’t object to making the bloke suffer occasionally, simply because it was good for his soul. But not this kind of suffering.
Rose was right. It was time for a distraction - and, knowing Jack’s habits, he’d willingly let himself be distracted. Especially since he was about to be offered what he was well aware Jack wanted most.
***
God. And she’d thought the Doctor had it bad, with all his grief over the Time War. How would it feel to go through what Jack had?
Time that Jack stopped thinking about it. They were going to make sure he didn’t have time to brood. Not for the foreseeable future.
His lips covered hers, his kiss warm and affectionate this time, not passionate. He was thanking her. Though he didn’t need to do that. Stupid idiot, couldn’t he see that she cared about him? That they both did?
And then the Doctor was there too, bending over Jack, pushing her back gently so that he could kiss their friend, so that his hands could roam all over Jack’s body.
Content to watch, she sat back and let the two of them get on with it. She’d never even seen two men kiss before, let alone anything else. Mickey liked renting the odd porn movie, but refused to watch anything other than het or women on women.
Funny; she’d expected to be a little weirded out at seeing the two of them together - though watching them kissing hadn’t bothered her. This, though; the two of them, lying together on the floor, hands and lips everywhere, exploring each other’s bodies... all she could think was how beautiful they looked. The two of them - her men, making love to each other.
They didn’t speak, other than low murmurs of “that’s good” or “yeah, just there.” Hands stroked over limbs and torsos. Lips kissed and sucked, tongues trailed over bare expanses of flesh, over sensitive areas, eliciting moans and sighs.
And then they moved. She watched in fascination as the Doctor took Jack in his mouth, tracing a path expertly with his tongue first - no way he hadn’t done this before! - then letting his lips follow. Jack’s groan was audible, but he was shifting, reaching for the Doctor, mirroring his actions.
Their movements grew more frantic, and she felt her own breath catch as moans became louder and bodies began to jerk. And, finally, the two of them stilled and fell back against the floor, bodies glistening with the sheen of exertion.
A grin spread across Jack’s face. “Think you were right about those carpet-burns, Doctor.”
“I’m always right.” The Doctor was wearing a very smug grin. “So, what you want to do about it?”
“Well...” Jack’s smile encompassed the two of them. “I do happen to have a very large bed in my room...”
“Sounds good to me!” Rose jumped to her feet. “An’ since you two’ve been ignoring me for the past twenty minutes...”
“Then we best not ignore you any longer.” The Doctor wrapped his arm around her waist.
“Consider yourself definitely not ignored.” Jack’s arm went around her waist from the other side, and he nibbled lightly at her ear.
“Good.” And she looked from one of them to the other, grinning.
There were hours of the night left. Plenty of time for them to live up to their promises.
End