It didn't take too long for Jack to drift off to sleep. After all, it had been a long day, all told, with a lot of action and a lot of emotion.
Not long at all and he was away; his body absently curling up that little bit more around the Doctor's as he drifted into a deeper sleep.
Usually, Jack tried not to dream. It wasn't as though he could truly suppress them, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try. Here though, he was more relaxed. Yes it all might go wrong, yes something terrible could happen, but it didn't have to and be damned he was going to let himself enjoy the moment while he had it. It was a memory he wanted to keep.
And so he did dream, but the dream wasn't things he hoped for, or secret little things he wanted, it was something he had. The course of the evening, in all its sexual detail, replayed in his mind but punctuated with the way certain things made him feel, and things way past the sexual. Certain things the Doctor had said to him, and had said long before they'd connected their minds. Those words would stay with him. The Doctor wanted him for who he was. He wasn't sure anyone had ever wanted that.
And then that dream lead to another, and it was here, Boeshane. He dreamt of himself, climbing that tree, playing in the sand. And he dreamt of leaving there again, leaving now to go into the TARDIS and away.
And that was the place, that in his dreams, felt like home.
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Not long at all and he was away; his body absently curling up that little bit more around the Doctor's as he drifted into a deeper sleep.
Usually, Jack tried not to dream. It wasn't as though he could truly suppress them, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try. Here though, he was more relaxed. Yes it all might go wrong, yes something terrible could happen, but it didn't have to and be damned he was going to let himself enjoy the moment while he had it. It was a memory he wanted to keep.
And so he did dream, but the dream wasn't things he hoped for, or secret little things he wanted, it was something he had. The course of the evening, in all its sexual detail, replayed in his mind but punctuated with the way certain things made him feel, and things way past the sexual. Certain things the Doctor had said to him, and had said long before they'd connected their minds. Those words would stay with him. The Doctor wanted him for who he was. He wasn't sure anyone had ever wanted that.
And then that dream lead to another, and it was here, Boeshane. He dreamt of himself, climbing that tree, playing in the sand. And he dreamt of leaving there again, leaving now to go into the TARDIS and away.
And that was the place, that in his dreams, felt like home.