for quitehomoerotic: Welcome to the Boeshane Peninsula

[rude_not_ginger]

Follows this.

When the Doctor woke, he was prepared to feel stiff and uncomfortable. Usually, when reaching that point of exhaustion, he usually found himself on the floor or on the console, in some sort of an awkward position that left him sore for the next day. This morning, however, he was out of his clothes and stretched out on his bed, under the covers with a heating blanket.

A breathing heating blanket.

He raised an eyebrow and looked to where Jack had an arm around him as he slept. The previous day came rushing back. Pearl Harbor, the goodbyes, the return of Gallifrey, being captured by the Shadow Proclamation, and finally nearly killing Jack. They came so very close. Too close.

Without really thinking about it, the Doctor found himself wrapping an arm around Jack's shoulder. Jack, who was ready and willing to die the previous day. And the Doctor was willing to give him that. He had been willing to give him that. Not anmymore.

Where could they go, now?

Onwards, of course. It was the only way they could go.

The TARDIS wasn't moving anymore, and the Doctor slowly extracted himself from Jack's embrace. He grabbed his trousers and shirt and threw them on quickly, heading towards the console, hopefully before Jack woke.

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"Oooh, you know I never kiss and tell," the Doctor replied, grinning madly as he savored each kiss. This was good, this was what he wanted. He could almost say it was something he wanted forever.

Strange. That was another difference between them. Jack was immortal, and the Doctor wasn't. Normally, he was used to the though that he'd never grow old with a companion, but now, with Jack, his companion would long outlive him.

He wanted to state what, exactly, he wanted. Maybe along the lines of Jack, who could list out how he wanted to stroke and lick and do a variety of things to the Doctor. Or maybe he just wanted to ask Jack to make love to him. Make love. Such a ridiculous euphemism, he decided. In Italian, "Making Love" was arguing, fighting, hashing out a couple's differences. In that way, the Doctor and Jack had been making love for the last three years of their lives.

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"No?" Jack said with a twist of a grin, "Shame. I do love being gossiped about. Especially that sort of gossip."

His hands touched gently to the Doctor's skin as he kissed him, brief kisses one after another, soft and small and deeper and fuller, a little of everything. Fingers rested on the Doctor's collarbone, curving a little over the nape of his neck.

He felt in many ways more relaxed here, more relaxed than any time before really. It was no first, no goodbye, it was just them, and entirely them. And they both knew things would never be perfect. But to realise that and realise that didn't have to stop the good? Well Jack thought that might be something they should have realised quite some time ago.

His hands shifted again then and moved down, down to the Doctor's trousers to work on the buttons. He didn't ask, he didn't suspect he needed to, and so he freed the button and pushed them down over his hips until they fell and pooled at the floor.

And then he whispered again, a quiet demand. "Tell me." He hoped the Doctor would deduce what he meant.

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The Doctor took a careful breath. Tell him.

His voice held an edge of desperation. "Please."

It wasn't quite the same, but it was all that could come out.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

It was a careful balance to get, Jack knew. Confidence was one thing, but he didn't want one to weaken the other. And so it was strength as well and a soft movement that made his touch a hold.

"Always," he said, and he kissed him softly, toeing off his shoes before drawing the Doctor down to the bed, sitting and then leaning to lie. He kissed him again then, one long and lingering kiss before moving up onto his knees and opening his own trousers, slipping to his side to pull them off entirely, taking his underwear with them too.

He moved then, shifting down the bed to pull the Doctor's shoes off, one by one, and then tug off his trousers from the bottom of his legs. His task done, he moved back to the Doctor and smiled.

"Where was I?"

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"Well, I think you mentioned a series of things you wanted to do," the Doctor said, helping Jack by moving his feet when necessary and shifting his body when needed. This felt good, being led this way. Being led and being allowed to lead. There was a balance, and somehow Jack knew it well.

He slid his hand up the side of Jack's thigh, gently tracing the pads of his fingertips right above the surface of his skin. Close enough that he could feel the energy transfer between them, and if he hadn't been focusing so heavily on Jack and allowed himself to look, he might've even seen it. But he was focused on Jack's face, on the way he looked at him, spoke to him.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack leaned himself over the Doctor, resting his forearms down either side of his head, his fingers curled inwards a little and touched against the strands of the Doctor's hair that twisted and turned in different directions. And as he lay there, he looked. He just looked, a soft smile on his face as he looked down into the Doctor's eyes. Into his eyes and let his own gaze drift over the Doctor's face.

His fingers twisted gently into the Doctor's hair and his smile grew, just a little.

"Oh I did, didn't I?" he said finally. "Of course that wasn't a full list... I mean... there's this," he leaned down a little and pressed his lips gently against the Doctor's, withdrew them only slightly, and whispered, "and this," and shifted slightly, pressing them again but to his jaw, "and this," and again still, further down to his neck. All delicate and soft before shifting slightly, one of those hands that was supporting him moving down to find the Doctor's free hand and take it in his own.

And another whisper.

"I've missed you."

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The Doctor let out a sigh of pleasure. This was good, this was what he wanted. Sex could never be the end-all and be-all of the Doctor's life, but being with Jack made him want to think about it just a bit more than he normally did.

"How could you miss me?" the Doctor teased with a smile. "I'm easy to find. I'm the guy with two hearts, remember?"

He reached up, tracing his fingers this time from Jack's jaw down to his sternum, the same gentle, not-quite-touching movements he gave to his thigh just a moment earlier. With his other hand, he gave Jack's hand a gentle squeeze.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

There was something in it, a gentleness and a relaxation that Jack hoped the Doctor understood (and perhaps for the first time, he really believed he did). It wasn't all about the heat and the sex and the looking at him and imagining things he wanted to do. That was certainly a part of it, yes, but there was more, and that more was the part that was important to Jack.

"No you're not," Jack replied with an amused little smile, still lacing gentle soft kisses against his skin. "I think I can attest to that. Maybe I'm just more persistent and looking for you."

He brushed his thumb gently against the skin beside the Doctor's thumb.

"But I found you. Two hearts and all."

He kissed him again then, a little more focussed, a little deeper, switching the level up slightly. In his mind he focused the way the Doctor was almost touching him. It made his breath rise just a little; his heart race.

"What do you feel?" he whispered as he lifted the Doctor's hand and pinned it lightly up beside his head.

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"I like persistence, though," the Doctor said, giving Jack another grin. "It's an excellent trait! Right up there with flossing and knowing when to wander off."

His own hearts sped up at Jack's movement, at the way his hand was pinned just over his head. There was no threat in it, and he knew that if he truly wanted to tug away, he could. It was the implication that Jack was in control. Or maybe that they were struggling for control, that was fun, too.

Fun. It wasn't often enough that he considered the idea of a relationship with someone fun. But that was Jack, wasn't it? He took things the Doctor was prejudiced about and turned them into things he adored.

"Not going to lie to you, Jack," the Doctor said, raising an eyebrow. "A bit excited."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

"Oh well isn't nobody ever could say I don't have that," Jack said with a grin and shifted on the bed a little, supporting his weight by lifting his leg somewhat, resting it against that to free up his other arm. He shifted it then, held it to the Doctor's hip, thumb stroking over the prominent bone there.

He tried to think just what he wanted to do to him (with him), but then he realised that list would hardly narrow it down. He tried to remember what he'd said he wanted to do, because really, he'd got through that whole speech on not much more than adrenaline.

But he focussed. Just enjoy it, that's what mattered. He didn't have to be precise or plan or do what he thought the Doctor wanted. No, he had learnt that what he needed to do? Was exactly what felt right.

The Doctor's words made him grin and he couldn't help but show how pleased that statement made him. Pleased, and then perhaps ever so smug. His grin turned to a smirk and he tilted his head to the side a little.

"Good," he said, "because you should be."

And at that, he reached for the Doctor's other hand with his not touching him movements, and pinned it, mirroring the other one before pressing his lips to the Doctor's collarbone and lower, kiss by kiss by kiss.

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The Doctor relaxed his wrist as Jack pinned it back. He trusted Jack, and there wasn't much else to it. He trusted Jack with his TARDIS, with his hearts, and with his name. Really, giving up his hands wasn't as hard as those.

He gasped, quietly, as Jack's mouth lowered to his collarbone and further. His mouth was warm against the Doctor's skin, like hot wax against hypersensitive nerves.

The Doctor let out a shaky breath. Just relax, he reminded himself. Stop thinking, just feel.

"Driving me mad," he said. "Is that all part of your plan?"

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack lowered still, each touch a gentle kiss and then gone. Moving down as much as his arms would allow while still holding the Doctor's hands.

He let out a brief laugh then, emerging in a kiss pressed to the Doctor's stomach.

"Well you drive me mad enough," Jack said with a teasing tone, "only fair I get my own back."

Carefully then, he let his fingers slide away from the Doctor's hands, pressing them down once as if to keep them there before moving his hold away, hands moving back along his arms as he lowered further, kissing along to his hipbone and to the inside of his thigh.

"You know one thing about Boeshane," he said, almost conversationally. "Nice forward thinking place. And that drawer next to you? Fully stocked."

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"Is it really? That's quite generous of them. You wouldn't find that sort of a drawer on Gallifrey. Anywhere, probably. Well, except where I lived, but I was a rebel."

Without any real conscious thought to it, the Doctor kept his hands in place over his head. There were times to fight back and times to let go, and this was one of them.

Times to let go.

Let go.

That must've been it. The moment he let go of his hatred for his regeneration, the energy that was holding him in place released. It had to have been linked to his conscious thought. Whatever that thing under the water was, it could read minds and oh that feels quite nice.

He let out a quiet moan at the feel of Jack's mouth on his hipbone and thigh. Rambling thoughts in his mind quieted for feeling instead.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

"Must be why I like you," Jack said, his voice distracted as he focussed his attention on licking his tongue in a line along the inside of his thigh down towards his knee and blowing air gently against the newly dampened skin.

"Have a look," he said "maybe they've got your favourite."

His hand drifted down in a way that could seem utterly accidental. His fingers touching against the Doctor's stomach, just curled in, a touch that glided away and lower, almost pressed to more sensitive skin, but not quite close enough.

And then? Like a snap? He moved. He moved his mouth away, his hands away, everything. He sat upright, on his knees between the Doctor's, and simply looked at him. Watched him, and waited to see what he'd do.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor tilted his head back to look at the drawer. He didn't really care if they had his favorite (the pear-flavored one from Rigos 7, actually, which was particularly odd considering his aversion to pears in all of his lifetimes), just so long as they eventually got to it together. And then, well, then they'd figure out wow did that feel good wait why did Jack just stop?

He turned his head back to Jack, who was waiting for the Doctor to move, it appeared. Which was sort of unfair, because the Doctor had been enjoying that, thankyouverymuch.

"Sorry, am I not participating enough?" he asked with a teasing smile. "Because I didn't think I'd been tagged into action just yet. You know I never like to break in from someone's turn."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack let out a warm laugh at that, ducking his head down and smiling to himself.

"I just wanted to see what you do," Jack admitted honestly. "And I wanted to look at you," he added, teasing as he rather overtly gazed him up and down, still smiling.

"Yup," he said decisively, "still good."

He laughed then, warmly just as before, and he leaned himself down, arms reaching for the Doctor's, enough to hold him and tug him towards sitting upwards. His eyes, like before, fell to the Doctor's lips, and his arousal between them grew just that little more obvious.

"You know on the moons of Axios 3 they spend eight hours just on foreplay," he said with a whisper. "I spent a few months there. There were people that could stimulate you without even touching."

And even quieter, "I wonder if I could do that to you. That place on the back of your neck, Doctor, the little hairs, think I could get them standing on end? Think you could imagine my tongue swishing slowly slowly across the skin? Think."

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"I've heard of Axios 3," the Doctor said. "They have something called the Fourth Sensation. Well, you were on there for months, I assume you probably tried it." He wondered if that would surprise Jack, that the Doctor knew about that world. Not that he'd ever actually been there or knew anything about the Fourth Sensation apart from the fact that it was terribly, terribly scandalous.

"Ooooh, I imagine with the right amount of effort, Jack, you could accomplish anything." Even as he spoke, he recalled in perfect detail what it felt like when Jack kissed the back of his neck and the way his body seemed to sing when it was touched in just that right way.

"What about you?" he asked, moving one hand from its pinned position down to Jack's arm, back to tracing just above the skin. "And your places? Underneath that manipulator of yours?"

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

"Well you know me, Doctor," Jack said, "I'll try anything once. Well, twice. I'd offer to take you there," he said, "experience it for yourself, but then I don't think it's really your idea of a holiday destination. And besides, I don't want to share."

Again, Jack felt himself smile, both inside and out. He wondered if the Doctor knew just how much his small words meant. So much more than over the top declarations, but just small words, small sentiments that the Doctor thought that about him. The Doctor believed in him. And that felt wonderful.

"Oh well only you would know about that," he said, looking towards the strap and back, "your little spot, that, Doctor. All yours."

Part of him wondered if that was a little over sentimental, but then he realised quite soon after, he didn't care if it was.

And so again, he kissed him, leaned in and kissed him, and his arm (not the one with the strap on) he reached up and hooked around the Doctor's neck. He thought, perhaps, forget the not touching, he wanted to touch, and so his fingers brushed the skin.

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The Doctor moaned against Jack's mouth and moved his other arm away from its position above his head. He slipped that arm around his waist, pulling him even closer. This was what he wanted. This, this trust, all of this.

With the occupied hand, he traced small circles just on the outside of Jack's manipulator, grazing just millimeters away from the very sensitive skin there. He wanted Jack. His mind actually filled with the things he wanted to do, here in this bed. Which, considering how infrequently he fantasized about things that weren't travel or adventure, seemed like quite the experience. He wanted Jack and he wanted Jack to know just how much he did.

He moved his fingertips to Jack's temple and brushed his mind gently with his own. A request to share.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack let out his own moan, a response to the kiss, to the sound, to the way their skin touched, to the way the Doctor touched his skin too. It was the experience of it all, and it was wonderful.

The fingers he held at the back of the Doctor's neck curled in a little, pressing the pads of his fingers into his skin, pushing up a little into his hair.

He felt the Doctor's fingers touch his face and felt too the barest hint of his mind in his own.

Yes, he said. Yes in any way he could. Yes in his mind, yes by nodding even as he kissed him, yes by the slight twist of touch, wanting it, all of it, and anything the Doctor wanted to give.

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The Doctor grinned against Jack's mouth. It had been a long time, hadn't it? Too long.

He opened his mind, giving Jack the incredible desire the Doctor felt for him. Not repressed, not censored, just desire. What he couldn't express as eloquently or as seductively as Jack could in words, he tried to show him in emotions.

I want you. It was difficult to say, but so very easy to feel. Jack knew how to seduce, and more importantly, he knew how to seduce the Doctor, which wasn't all that easy. And the word want, when thought, held more weight. It wasn't just a desire, it was a necessity. He needed Jack. Loved him. A lot went into that want.

In the physical world, he deftly moved to unlatch Jack's manipulator. Slowly, carefully. Rebuilding trust.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

It felt like a flood, the sudden ability to see images and thoughts and feelings. He could touch them and feel them as though they were his own, and they mingled in his mind with what he felt too. It was clear in a way Jack was almost surprised by. He remembered a time the Doctor had told him he didn't really have those thoughts. He was very glad to be proved wrong.

But it was more than that, of course, it was that subtlety to it, something said in a way words would never be enough to articulate. A need, and just what it was like to feel need. That wrenching feeling inside that was both good and bad. And that he was the one needed? That it was directed at him? And that more than anything, utterly above all it was the Doctor needing him? It was almost overwhelming.

And so, without words too, he let that be felt. His own emotion (something he so often tried to hide) free and with utter clarity so the Doctor could read it, so that he could see just how good that made him him feel. How important, how special. And how alive. He needed him too, and he'd been too scared to need, embarrassed to need. But now? Now he could just let him see it, and it was good.

What attention he could spare went to moving his fingers back to that space against the Doctor's neck. Back to drawing small figures of eight, a featherlight touch, barely a touch at all.

And as he continued to kiss him, his eyes grew damp. He was happy here, and it felt good.

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It was good. Jack deserved to feel special. Not just because he was the only fixed point in the universe, but because, to the Doctor, he meant so very, very much. The Doctor never allowed himself to fall in love, and he never allowed himself to get pulled in, but with Jack he willingly did both. And he'd do it again, in a heartbeat.

Pleasure shot up the Doctor's spine at Jack's touch, and he didn't bother to hide how incredibly good it felt. He moaned in the physical world and let Jack share in the pleasure in the mental one.

He grazed his fingernails across Jack's wrist, focusing on how it felt within his mind.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

One thing Jack prided himself on, was his good memory (at least where it mattered). He liked to think any piece of information, once learned, would remain available to him. He put that idea into practise here.

With his touch to the Doctor's mind, he reached his own forward, not deep into thought but against those nerves he'd learned to touch before. And with remembering there was advancing, not content of course to stay still, he wanted to improve.

And so with those fingers on the Doctor's neck, he used something else he'd learned, not much at all, but a little something; he drew shapes on the Doctor's skin. Precise shapes; 1 to 10 in Gallifreyan.

It was quite a deal to be able to focus at all when the Doctor's hand was on his wrist like that, and the waves of pleasure from it sparked out like tendrils to the places he was reaching in the Doctor's mind. And of course he was reaching somewhere precise; to that space of the back of his neck. He tried to touch it both inside and out, and then it sparked all the more as he was touched himself.

"Forget Axios 3," he said breathily as he paused kissing a moment to breathe a little more. "If you could bottle this feeling you could make a fortune."

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"Nah, wouldn't want to," the Doctor said, brushing his nose against Jack's. "Call me greedy, but I like that it's just between us."

Which, now that he thought about it, was saying more than he had expected. He didn't share this sort of a relationship with other lovers. He didn't connect with them, and he certainly didn't open up like this with them. It was only Jack, and it wasn't even for reasons that the Doctor could properly explain.

He gasped as Jack found the nerves he'd touched before, along with the swirling on the back of his neck and the waves of energy from Jack. Overwhelming wasn't the word. This was an all-encompassing sort of sensation, and he was surprised to find himself holding back so soon. There was no way he would rush this, though.

He reached out mentally, finding similar nerves in Jack's mind. It had been a long time, but he'd long since memorized that night in the luxury ship. All those nerves, all that closeness. He carefully strummed along them, playing Jack like he might a harp.