Commentfic Roundup
Posted various places, unbetaed.
Title: Sweets From Strangers
Characters: Rhiannon, Ianto, Jack (implied Jack/Ianto)
Rating: PG
Summary: Rhiannon already knows what her brother does for a living.
Warnings/Spoilers: up through COE, mild child abuse
Summary: Rhiannon already knows what her brother does for a living.
AN: Written for a prompt at The Women of Torchwood Commentfic Fest
***
Rhiannon saw her first alien when she was nine. She and her mates were out late at the playpark, but Mam didn't mind and Dad wasn't home, and an alien ran through the swings. She saw it, Amber saw it, Catherine said she saw it but she was looking the wrong way. Three adults chased it and caught it. One came back, a man with a big grin.
"What did you see?" he asked, and the girls told him, and he nodded seriously. Then he offered each one a sweet. Amber and Catherine ate theirs but Rhiannon didn't take sweets from strangers, and gave hers back.
The big grin faded.
The next day, Mam got a visit from the police, saying Rhiannon had been seen messing about after dark, and to keep a better eye on her. She got an earful from Mam and a hiding from Dad, and both of them yelled at her to set a better example for her stupid, snotty little brother.
Amber and Catherine didn't remember anything about the alien. Rhiannon thought bitterly she should have eaten the sweet.
***
She saw her next alien when she was thirteen. She and Mam were in the car, and it dodged out of nowhere, smacking into the bonnet and leaving a huge dent. Mam screamed, Rhiannon screamed. When they got out to see the poor bloke Mam was sure she'd killed, they both saw the slavering creature. It had two heads.
"Get back inside," Mam said in a quiet voice, and they managed to lock the doors before the enraged monster hit the windows on Mam's side.
Rhiannon heard a gunshot, and the thing fell. Adults swarmed around the car. A lady with a long ponytail said she was a doctor, and she checked out Rhi and her mother. Off to the side, gathering up the "escaped gorilla," Rhi saw a grin she recognised. When the lady offered her a drink, Rhi pretended to swallow.
Mam took a long, long drink. Rhi noticed, and kept her own thoughts when the car was replaced out of the blue the following day, when Mam started having trouble remembering loads of things, when Dad took so much time away from work to drive Mam to doctor after doctor.
If she told what she knew, they'd make her forget, the way Amber and Catherine and Mam had. When her stupid, snotty brother started spouting his own stupid, snotty theories, she slapped him in the mouth and went into her room to cry.
***
Living in South Wales meant knowing about strange things, and paying attention when "ghosts" turned out to be robotic monsters. She wasn't sure about the terrorist attack at One Canada Square, but she knew what to do when the weird came calling: point to the Bay.
Then her stupid, snotty brother got a job working by the Bay, and if he barely had spoken to her when he was in London, he said nothing at all until he showed up one night, eyes red from crying, like he'd just noticed that his girlfriend had died months ago. He wouldn't talk about anything, but she supposed he wasn't there to talk, only to be comforted.
She saw her fifteenth or sixteenth alien - God knew she'd stopped counting - in the ASDA. It was ripping through cheeses like it was Christmas, and she knew enough now not to scream, just to get away very quickly. She waited in the crowd outside as some showy black SUV pulled up.
Her stupid, snotty brother was driving it.
She remembered Mam, and Amber, and Catherine. Rhiannon left her packages and got into her car quickly, before the memories could go away, but not before she caught the smile on the man leading the way into the shop.
There were ways she could play this, she thought, driving home. She could tell Ianto he'd been seen, and watch him squirm. She could pretend nothing had changed. She could go to the Bay herself, go in the shop where he worked, and tell him she knew.
She pulled over, and texted him on her mobile: Meet me later. We need to talk. And before she could scare herself out of it, she hit SEND.
After a moment, she sent a second text: Bring your friend with the nice smile.
That should get his attention.
***
Title: Jumble Sale
Characters: Tosh, Gwen, the colour-coded Grannies
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Summary: Tosh and Gwen go on a retrieval mission together.
AN: Written for a prompt at The Women of Torchwood Commentfic Fest. Prequel fic to Just Because They Protect You Doesn't Mean They Like You
***
The basement of the church has a sour odour, like pensioners, used clothing, and a faint overtone of the vicar's elderly cat. The four grannies running the jumble sale are very nearly interchangeable versions of each other in lavender, peach, blue, and pink shawls. Pink Granny is guarding the table with the spare toasters, electric kettles, and other gently (or not) used small appliances. She's got a gummy grin and a sharp eye.
"Here," says Toshiko, under her breath. She has out a scanner shaped like a Blackberry, and she looks like she's texting rather than tracking down alien junk.
Gwen picks up the device casually. It looks like a cross between an alarm clock and a video game controller, one of the cheap plastic ones permanently glued to the hand of some teenaged boy. The tag on the item making Toshiko's "mobile" beep says it's fifteen pounds.
Gwen smiles at Pink Granny. "Oh, I've been looking for one of these. I'll give you five quid for it." She has her money ready, petty cash from the spare account. She's not sure how Ianto's juggling their financial records to make it appear everything is still normal to anyone at Whitehall who might be curious, but they're trying to make as small a splash as possible. Maybe Jack will come back before the higher-ups have noticed he's gone.
Pink Granny moves faster than Gwen could have imagined, snatching the artefact from her hands. "Fifteen, pet. It's for God's work, you know."
God isn't going to like what happens when this thing goes off. Gwen bites her lip and tries another smile. "You're right, of course." She only has ten quid left from the account. She hands it over, folding one note to make it look like two.
Pink Granny isn't fooled. "Fifteen." Blue Granny and Lavender Granny have come over to flank her. Gwen can easily take down all of then, but there's something menacing about the cane in one's hand, and the angry look on the other's face.
"Tosh?"
"Hm?" Toshiko has wandered off to another table, fingering a lace doily with every sign of interest.
"I need five pounds."
"Sorry, I only brought my card. How much for this?" she asks of Peach Granny. "I just love this pattern."
"Fifty pence for all the doilies, dear," Peach Granny says sweetly.
Tosh dugs into her handbag and pulls out her coins. "I'll take both of these, thanks." She takes the doily she was examining, and another. Gwen stands there impatiently as Tosh walks up to where Pink Granny has the cash box. As she brushes by Gwen, she trips, and Gwen's instinct is to catch her. Tosh pulls on her arm hard, falling into the table and jostling her hip.
"Ouch!" she says, steadying herself as Gwen massages her own wrist. Tosh has dropped her coins, and her handbag falls open, spilling out her glasses case and an assortment of pens. Pink Granny bends down to help her clean up, and Gwen slides the large doily right over the abandoned artefact. A minute later, Tosh's handbag is back together, she's placed the coins in Pink Granny's hand for her doilies, and Gwen is acting as casually as she can holding the doilies and the artefact.
As they hurry out of the basement, Gwen's conscience tells her, I just stole from the church, I'm going to Hell, I just stole from the church, I'm going to Hell.
They reach the car park without being followed. Gwen heaves a sigh of relief and Tosh takes the artefact from her hand, unwrapping it.
She frowns. Gwen frowns. This isn't the alarm-clock-video-game-controller. This is the clock radio that was next to it on the table. As one, they look back at the basement. The prospect of facing the Grannies is too much to consider.
Gwen's earpiece crackles. Owen says, "We're on our way back. Fucking thing imploded. Bloody mess. How did the retrieval go?"
She looks at Tosh. Tosh shrugs. "It went fine. Finishing up here. We'll meet you back at the Hub." She clicks off. "Let's find a cash point. And then we can figure out what we're going to tell the ladies downstairs."
"Our consciences made us come back," says Tosh.
Gwen sighs. "Yeah."
***
Title: But You Can't Stay Here
Characters: Suzie, Jack (implied Suzie/OFC)
Rating: PG
Spoilers/Warnings: none
Summary: How Suzie joined up.
AN: Written for a prompt at The Women of Torchwood Commentfic Fest.
***
She should have gone home hours ago. Suzie has spent most of the night in a quiet corner, making her beer last. She doesn't want to be too drunk to choose, and tonight's pickings have been very slim. The landlord is making gestures like he's going to turn up the pub lights any minute. This has been a total bust.
She sighs, makes sure she's paid her tab, and heads out into the night alone. Morning will come soon enough. She's due in at the university by eight for the electronics lab she hates teaching.
The other pubs are discharging their laughing, drunken patrons: silly girls in stupid shoes and too much makeup, silly boys being too loud, all of them stumbling for cabs or off to get tonight's last kebab, or pausing in an alley to vomit up the previous one. Ugh. Just the sight of them reminds her why she stayed sober enough not to go home with any of them.
She passes an alley full of stink, and sees a figure bent over. Another tosser working on their hangover, she reckons, and almost walks by when she hears the moan. There's another figure on the ground, she can see in the dim light from the streets. Someone hurt? Someone getting mugged?
It's none of her business. She has to get home. But Suzie reaches into her handbag for the spray can of mace she keeps there. "Hey, friend," she says in a loud voice. "You need a hand?"
The bent-over figure turns to her. Her mind tells her he's been in a terrible accident, wounded, scarred. Her eyes say it has to be a mask. Her hammering pulse says to run.
The body below it is bleeding, weakly trying to crawl away.
Suzie holds up the can.
"Back away," she says in a firm voice she pulls from the dark place inside, the place that made her walk away from home, that stabbed a fork into the hand of the last man who tried to grope her without her permission. "Do it now."
The creature, it's a creature, lunges at her. She sprays, belatedly hoping the breeze is with her because she didn't check. Stinging gas fills the area between them, and the creature growls, not deterred. Angry.
Her eyes are streaming, and she should run but if she runs whoever it is on the ground is going to die. Suzie turns her grip into a fast throw, smacking the creature right in the middle of the forehead with the flung, empty canister. She follows up with a punch to its face, which feels like a steel bar.
She opens her mouth to scream for help, for backup, when there's a man beside her with his own can of mace out, spraying right into the monster's face. It moans, and before she can react, he's thrown a bag over its head. He's struggling with the paws, and her frozen moment breaks. She hurries over to help with the zipties he's using.
Less then a minute after she first saw it, the creature is in a bundle at the man's feet, and she's alive.
"You okay?" he asks. American. Pretty even in this light. Where was he an hour ago? Her mind suggests if she'd met him an hour ago, the crawling form in the alley would definitely be dead.
"I'm fine. What about ... ?" she points, and they both lean over to check. It's a girl, no older than one of the uni kids she'll see tomorrow.
"She's hurt, but she'll live. Can you get her to hospital?" He slings the monster over one shoulder.
Suzie nods. "Can you show me how you did that?"
He makes a face, and she's pretty sure he's about to tell her. to go home. Then he looks her up and down, and not in the way the men she'd declined tonight had. "Tomorrow, ten AM, Roald Dahl Plass."
At ten, she's got a faculty meeting, and more classes after. She should plan for those, not get involved.
"Ten AM," she agrees, and bends down to help the girl stand. She's pretty, and later tonight she'll be very grateful to the one rescuer she remembers, and Suzie decides she's fine with starting her brand new life tomorrow without any sleep.
***
Title: Practise
Characters: Eleven/Jack
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Summary: Eleven wants to practise his technique, and Jack is just the man to help him.
AN: Written for a prompt at eleventy-kink.
***
Jack's head makes a CLANK when the back of it collides with the bulkhead, and he can't make himself care. His bare arse is warm against the same wall, filling with the tender vibrations of the TARDIS behind him, around him, but everything pales to the cool suction on his dick.
This Doctor is young in his face, like the pretty young men Jack favours. There is nothing better in the galaxy than running his hand through messy hair, tugging a glance up at him from some gorgeous youth's eyes, while that mouth is working miracles on his cock. The Doctor is definitely a miracle worker.
"I want some practise," he said, and meandered around what he wanted before Jack caught on. One quick kiss and eye-rolled permission from his own cute lover later, and Jack is here to help. Oh yes.
He's being licked like the solar system's sweetest ice lolly, all tongue and quick sucks.
"Put your hand on the base," Jack says through happy gasps. The Doctor's hand grasps him, and begins squeezing in rhythm to the bob of his head and the cool spit slide of his mouth. "Like that."
Jack is a patient teacher. He has always prided himself on taking inexperienced beings in hand and training them into sexual dynamos. He has wanted to be with the Doctor for most of his long life, but Jack never thought he'd be teaching his idol this way, not with gentle pressure to guide his fingers, not with encouraging moans when the head of his cock slips deep into the Doctor's welcoming throat.
The Doctor swallows and squeezes, and Jack comes with a growl and a too-sharp pull on the Doctor's hair.
The TARDIS purrs around them, amused. "No laughing," Jack tells her as the Doctor gets up from his knees and Jack pulls him in for a messy kiss that tastes just right.
The Doctor himself is all business. "I thought that one went swimmingly. Bit more tongue, bit less spit. I should write that down. Do you have a pen on you?"
Jack is starkers. "That was good, yeah. Tell you what, you get a pen, I'll rest here a minute. Then we can go again. I think you still need more practise."
"You think so?" The Doctor looks at him critically, eyes focused under the floppy hair.
"Definitely more practise. This could take days. Weeks even."
The TARDIS laughs inside his head.
Title: Sweets From Strangers
Characters: Rhiannon, Ianto, Jack (implied Jack/Ianto)
Rating: PG
Summary: Rhiannon already knows what her brother does for a living.
Warnings/Spoilers: up through COE, mild child abuse
Summary: Rhiannon already knows what her brother does for a living.
AN: Written for a prompt at The Women of Torchwood Commentfic Fest
***
Rhiannon saw her first alien when she was nine. She and her mates were out late at the playpark, but Mam didn't mind and Dad wasn't home, and an alien ran through the swings. She saw it, Amber saw it, Catherine said she saw it but she was looking the wrong way. Three adults chased it and caught it. One came back, a man with a big grin.
"What did you see?" he asked, and the girls told him, and he nodded seriously. Then he offered each one a sweet. Amber and Catherine ate theirs but Rhiannon didn't take sweets from strangers, and gave hers back.
The big grin faded.
The next day, Mam got a visit from the police, saying Rhiannon had been seen messing about after dark, and to keep a better eye on her. She got an earful from Mam and a hiding from Dad, and both of them yelled at her to set a better example for her stupid, snotty little brother.
Amber and Catherine didn't remember anything about the alien. Rhiannon thought bitterly she should have eaten the sweet.
***
She saw her next alien when she was thirteen. She and Mam were in the car, and it dodged out of nowhere, smacking into the bonnet and leaving a huge dent. Mam screamed, Rhiannon screamed. When they got out to see the poor bloke Mam was sure she'd killed, they both saw the slavering creature. It had two heads.
"Get back inside," Mam said in a quiet voice, and they managed to lock the doors before the enraged monster hit the windows on Mam's side.
Rhiannon heard a gunshot, and the thing fell. Adults swarmed around the car. A lady with a long ponytail said she was a doctor, and she checked out Rhi and her mother. Off to the side, gathering up the "escaped gorilla," Rhi saw a grin she recognised. When the lady offered her a drink, Rhi pretended to swallow.
Mam took a long, long drink. Rhi noticed, and kept her own thoughts when the car was replaced out of the blue the following day, when Mam started having trouble remembering loads of things, when Dad took so much time away from work to drive Mam to doctor after doctor.
If she told what she knew, they'd make her forget, the way Amber and Catherine and Mam had. When her stupid, snotty brother started spouting his own stupid, snotty theories, she slapped him in the mouth and went into her room to cry.
***
Living in South Wales meant knowing about strange things, and paying attention when "ghosts" turned out to be robotic monsters. She wasn't sure about the terrorist attack at One Canada Square, but she knew what to do when the weird came calling: point to the Bay.
Then her stupid, snotty brother got a job working by the Bay, and if he barely had spoken to her when he was in London, he said nothing at all until he showed up one night, eyes red from crying, like he'd just noticed that his girlfriend had died months ago. He wouldn't talk about anything, but she supposed he wasn't there to talk, only to be comforted.
She saw her fifteenth or sixteenth alien - God knew she'd stopped counting - in the ASDA. It was ripping through cheeses like it was Christmas, and she knew enough now not to scream, just to get away very quickly. She waited in the crowd outside as some showy black SUV pulled up.
Her stupid, snotty brother was driving it.
She remembered Mam, and Amber, and Catherine. Rhiannon left her packages and got into her car quickly, before the memories could go away, but not before she caught the smile on the man leading the way into the shop.
There were ways she could play this, she thought, driving home. She could tell Ianto he'd been seen, and watch him squirm. She could pretend nothing had changed. She could go to the Bay herself, go in the shop where he worked, and tell him she knew.
She pulled over, and texted him on her mobile: Meet me later. We need to talk. And before she could scare herself out of it, she hit SEND.
After a moment, she sent a second text: Bring your friend with the nice smile.
That should get his attention.
***
Title: Jumble Sale
Characters: Tosh, Gwen, the colour-coded Grannies
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Summary: Tosh and Gwen go on a retrieval mission together.
AN: Written for a prompt at The Women of Torchwood Commentfic Fest. Prequel fic to Just Because They Protect You Doesn't Mean They Like You
***
The basement of the church has a sour odour, like pensioners, used clothing, and a faint overtone of the vicar's elderly cat. The four grannies running the jumble sale are very nearly interchangeable versions of each other in lavender, peach, blue, and pink shawls. Pink Granny is guarding the table with the spare toasters, electric kettles, and other gently (or not) used small appliances. She's got a gummy grin and a sharp eye.
"Here," says Toshiko, under her breath. She has out a scanner shaped like a Blackberry, and she looks like she's texting rather than tracking down alien junk.
Gwen picks up the device casually. It looks like a cross between an alarm clock and a video game controller, one of the cheap plastic ones permanently glued to the hand of some teenaged boy. The tag on the item making Toshiko's "mobile" beep says it's fifteen pounds.
Gwen smiles at Pink Granny. "Oh, I've been looking for one of these. I'll give you five quid for it." She has her money ready, petty cash from the spare account. She's not sure how Ianto's juggling their financial records to make it appear everything is still normal to anyone at Whitehall who might be curious, but they're trying to make as small a splash as possible. Maybe Jack will come back before the higher-ups have noticed he's gone.
Pink Granny moves faster than Gwen could have imagined, snatching the artefact from her hands. "Fifteen, pet. It's for God's work, you know."
God isn't going to like what happens when this thing goes off. Gwen bites her lip and tries another smile. "You're right, of course." She only has ten quid left from the account. She hands it over, folding one note to make it look like two.
Pink Granny isn't fooled. "Fifteen." Blue Granny and Lavender Granny have come over to flank her. Gwen can easily take down all of then, but there's something menacing about the cane in one's hand, and the angry look on the other's face.
"Tosh?"
"Hm?" Toshiko has wandered off to another table, fingering a lace doily with every sign of interest.
"I need five pounds."
"Sorry, I only brought my card. How much for this?" she asks of Peach Granny. "I just love this pattern."
"Fifty pence for all the doilies, dear," Peach Granny says sweetly.
Tosh dugs into her handbag and pulls out her coins. "I'll take both of these, thanks." She takes the doily she was examining, and another. Gwen stands there impatiently as Tosh walks up to where Pink Granny has the cash box. As she brushes by Gwen, she trips, and Gwen's instinct is to catch her. Tosh pulls on her arm hard, falling into the table and jostling her hip.
"Ouch!" she says, steadying herself as Gwen massages her own wrist. Tosh has dropped her coins, and her handbag falls open, spilling out her glasses case and an assortment of pens. Pink Granny bends down to help her clean up, and Gwen slides the large doily right over the abandoned artefact. A minute later, Tosh's handbag is back together, she's placed the coins in Pink Granny's hand for her doilies, and Gwen is acting as casually as she can holding the doilies and the artefact.
As they hurry out of the basement, Gwen's conscience tells her, I just stole from the church, I'm going to Hell, I just stole from the church, I'm going to Hell.
They reach the car park without being followed. Gwen heaves a sigh of relief and Tosh takes the artefact from her hand, unwrapping it.
She frowns. Gwen frowns. This isn't the alarm-clock-video-game-controller. This is the clock radio that was next to it on the table. As one, they look back at the basement. The prospect of facing the Grannies is too much to consider.
Gwen's earpiece crackles. Owen says, "We're on our way back. Fucking thing imploded. Bloody mess. How did the retrieval go?"
She looks at Tosh. Tosh shrugs. "It went fine. Finishing up here. We'll meet you back at the Hub." She clicks off. "Let's find a cash point. And then we can figure out what we're going to tell the ladies downstairs."
"Our consciences made us come back," says Tosh.
Gwen sighs. "Yeah."
***
Title: But You Can't Stay Here
Characters: Suzie, Jack (implied Suzie/OFC)
Rating: PG
Spoilers/Warnings: none
Summary: How Suzie joined up.
AN: Written for a prompt at The Women of Torchwood Commentfic Fest.
***
She should have gone home hours ago. Suzie has spent most of the night in a quiet corner, making her beer last. She doesn't want to be too drunk to choose, and tonight's pickings have been very slim. The landlord is making gestures like he's going to turn up the pub lights any minute. This has been a total bust.
She sighs, makes sure she's paid her tab, and heads out into the night alone. Morning will come soon enough. She's due in at the university by eight for the electronics lab she hates teaching.
The other pubs are discharging their laughing, drunken patrons: silly girls in stupid shoes and too much makeup, silly boys being too loud, all of them stumbling for cabs or off to get tonight's last kebab, or pausing in an alley to vomit up the previous one. Ugh. Just the sight of them reminds her why she stayed sober enough not to go home with any of them.
She passes an alley full of stink, and sees a figure bent over. Another tosser working on their hangover, she reckons, and almost walks by when she hears the moan. There's another figure on the ground, she can see in the dim light from the streets. Someone hurt? Someone getting mugged?
It's none of her business. She has to get home. But Suzie reaches into her handbag for the spray can of mace she keeps there. "Hey, friend," she says in a loud voice. "You need a hand?"
The bent-over figure turns to her. Her mind tells her he's been in a terrible accident, wounded, scarred. Her eyes say it has to be a mask. Her hammering pulse says to run.
The body below it is bleeding, weakly trying to crawl away.
Suzie holds up the can.
"Back away," she says in a firm voice she pulls from the dark place inside, the place that made her walk away from home, that stabbed a fork into the hand of the last man who tried to grope her without her permission. "Do it now."
The creature, it's a creature, lunges at her. She sprays, belatedly hoping the breeze is with her because she didn't check. Stinging gas fills the area between them, and the creature growls, not deterred. Angry.
Her eyes are streaming, and she should run but if she runs whoever it is on the ground is going to die. Suzie turns her grip into a fast throw, smacking the creature right in the middle of the forehead with the flung, empty canister. She follows up with a punch to its face, which feels like a steel bar.
She opens her mouth to scream for help, for backup, when there's a man beside her with his own can of mace out, spraying right into the monster's face. It moans, and before she can react, he's thrown a bag over its head. He's struggling with the paws, and her frozen moment breaks. She hurries over to help with the zipties he's using.
Less then a minute after she first saw it, the creature is in a bundle at the man's feet, and she's alive.
"You okay?" he asks. American. Pretty even in this light. Where was he an hour ago? Her mind suggests if she'd met him an hour ago, the crawling form in the alley would definitely be dead.
"I'm fine. What about ... ?" she points, and they both lean over to check. It's a girl, no older than one of the uni kids she'll see tomorrow.
"She's hurt, but she'll live. Can you get her to hospital?" He slings the monster over one shoulder.
Suzie nods. "Can you show me how you did that?"
He makes a face, and she's pretty sure he's about to tell her. to go home. Then he looks her up and down, and not in the way the men she'd declined tonight had. "Tomorrow, ten AM, Roald Dahl Plass."
At ten, she's got a faculty meeting, and more classes after. She should plan for those, not get involved.
"Ten AM," she agrees, and bends down to help the girl stand. She's pretty, and later tonight she'll be very grateful to the one rescuer she remembers, and Suzie decides she's fine with starting her brand new life tomorrow without any sleep.
***
Title: Practise
Characters: Eleven/Jack
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Summary: Eleven wants to practise his technique, and Jack is just the man to help him.
AN: Written for a prompt at eleventy-kink.
***
Jack's head makes a CLANK when the back of it collides with the bulkhead, and he can't make himself care. His bare arse is warm against the same wall, filling with the tender vibrations of the TARDIS behind him, around him, but everything pales to the cool suction on his dick.
This Doctor is young in his face, like the pretty young men Jack favours. There is nothing better in the galaxy than running his hand through messy hair, tugging a glance up at him from some gorgeous youth's eyes, while that mouth is working miracles on his cock. The Doctor is definitely a miracle worker.
"I want some practise," he said, and meandered around what he wanted before Jack caught on. One quick kiss and eye-rolled permission from his own cute lover later, and Jack is here to help. Oh yes.
He's being licked like the solar system's sweetest ice lolly, all tongue and quick sucks.
"Put your hand on the base," Jack says through happy gasps. The Doctor's hand grasps him, and begins squeezing in rhythm to the bob of his head and the cool spit slide of his mouth. "Like that."
Jack is a patient teacher. He has always prided himself on taking inexperienced beings in hand and training them into sexual dynamos. He has wanted to be with the Doctor for most of his long life, but Jack never thought he'd be teaching his idol this way, not with gentle pressure to guide his fingers, not with encouraging moans when the head of his cock slips deep into the Doctor's welcoming throat.
The Doctor swallows and squeezes, and Jack comes with a growl and a too-sharp pull on the Doctor's hair.
The TARDIS purrs around them, amused. "No laughing," Jack tells her as the Doctor gets up from his knees and Jack pulls him in for a messy kiss that tastes just right.
The Doctor himself is all business. "I thought that one went swimmingly. Bit more tongue, bit less spit. I should write that down. Do you have a pen on you?"
Jack is starkers. "That was good, yeah. Tell you what, you get a pen, I'll rest here a minute. Then we can go again. I think you still need more practise."
"You think so?" The Doctor looks at him critically, eyes focused under the floppy hair.
"Definitely more practise. This could take days. Weeks even."
The TARDIS laughs inside his head.