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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[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Inside, Jack was grinning. He didn't let that show on the outside though, that would hardly work. But it was there because this was working. This what he knew so well and had used countless times, always tailored to the individual of course, but never on the Doctor. Never aside from that innocent little flirtation in the TARDIS. He hadn't thought he'd be able to hook the Doctor like that.

But he could. Because it wasn't about what he wanted, it was about letting the other person see what they did.

"We were talking about what you want," Jack said, though that wasn't the case at all.

And then he added, with much more confidence. "And you want me. Don't you."

He tilted his head slightly then, examining him still. "I know you do, Doctor. I can see it. And I want you," a step forward to him then, and a step around him, as if to examine from all angles.

"I want to run my tongue over your body, over that space at the back of your neck. I want to see what noises you'll make when I touch you, stroke you. And you want that,"

A pause for emphasis.

"Don't you?" Again, not so much a question as a statement. But demanding an answer.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

Did he? He realized that yeah, yeah, he wouldn't mind that. Not one bit, actually. Want? Yes.

There was something deliriously pleasing about being informed of what Jack wanted, exactly, and being reminded that it was what he wanted, too. In a moment of passion, like the luxury liner and Jack's flat, the Doctor could handle himself fairly well. But...practiced passion, the kind people who were with with had, he was completely lost. How would he start it? Where would he go? What would he do? Jack took the confusion out of that. It was freeing.

"Yes," he said, and he was surprised that there was no caution, no nervousness, nothing in his voice but confidence.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

It took quite the resolve then for Jack not to grin a ridiculously wide grin. How long had he wanted to hear that? Had he wanted the certainty of it, to know for sure? And now he did. He knew because the Doctor said it, and it didn't matter that he'd prompted him to, because all he'd done was find the truth. That was the sort of thing that made him feel alive.

The smile showed for a moment. Just the very fraction of a second when it shone through, a glint in his eyes as he looked down. It softened him just slightly, but it didn't mean he lost any of that control.

"Then I think we should do something about that," he said.

He came back around so that he was standing in front of him again, and he straightened his back, making himself a little taller, a little more control of the space around him. He leaned his head forward as though he might kiss him, but he didn't, he just ghosted his lips there and kept his eyes open, watching him, searching what little of his face he could see.

And then he whispered against his lips, "And you've never wanted to kiss me more."

He moved his head a little then, ghosting lips along his jaw, touching with nothing but air, and another whisper, "Tell me to kiss you."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

Jack's breath was warm against his jaw, and the Doctor resisted the urge to wrap his arms around him. It was like he was a walking ball of heat and energy, and time pooled around him. It was dizzying, and terribly arousing.

Jack also gave instruction well. He could, the Doctor realized. Take the instruction, tell Jack to kiss him. Give in, let Jack do all of the work. Course, that didn't feel particularly fair. After all, the Doctor was half of this whole with with business.

"What if I don't want to?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack's lips twisted once again into a smile. Oh that was good. It would have been good for the Doctor to do as he said but this? This was so much better, because he was joining in. It wasn't a refusal, he wasn't stupid enough to think that. He knew how this worked, the delicacy of it.

He let out a brief laugh and whispered again, "Oh but you do," he said, utterly confident of the fact.

"But fine," he said, playing along, "I could stop, if you like." And so he did, or at least made a fine show of it, stepping back slightly, space between them again, using the air as a tool.

And then he just smirked at him, as though letting him know he was enjoying this, the back and forth, and enjoying more still since he joined in.

And yes, the question on his lips was an almost worrying one to make, but Jack was convinced they were far enough ahead in this game for the Doctor to have enough confidence and enough focus to say. "So if you don't want me to kiss you," he said, still smirking, "what do you want me to do."

And a pause.

"To you."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor watched Jack step away impassively, making a show of not responding. All show, of course. He knew Jack was loving this, and there was no way he'd stop. The way he smiled before, the gleam in his eye, the Doctor was fairly certain that even his colder former self would've been fascinated.

"Nothing," the Doctor said, firmly. "I don't want you to do anything."

He couldn't stop himself from smirking. "Because, you see---" he took a step towards Jack. "---you're the control. The variable affects the control."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

For just a moment Jack was full of the worry that he'd done something wrong. Worried that he'd said things he shouldn't.

But then the Doctor smirked, and that worry faded. If it had shown on Jack's face, it had only been for a moment, and then that was replaced by realisation and a grin along with it.

"Oh I see," he said, turning his head to watch him approach.

"Well in that case. What do you want to do to me?"

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

He had absolutely intended to continue on with the show of being in control, of affecting Jack in a variety of scientific ways, checking his nerves and blood flow and the like. To tease Jack the way he'd teased the Doctor. But in the end, desire won out. And Jack said that the Doctor could want.

He cupped Jack's face and kissed his mouth. He had intended to make it slow and pointedly scientific, but he found himself kissing him firmly, deeply. After all, what were intentions if desires were elsewhere?

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

There was no way of predicting what the Doctor might do, Jack thought. And he loved that. He loved that whatever might come would be unexpected.

And he loved it too when the Doctor kissed him.

There was no game in that, and Jack could tell, and so there was no game in the way he responded. He didn't hold back to tease or draw things out. Because he had urges of his own, he had wants and desires, and right now they were all in him. And so he kissed him back putting his all into it, and admittedly, yes, perhaps showing off just a little.

At the same time, he touched a hand to the Doctor's chest, flat against the wet shirt, the dampness making the shape of his body beneath feel all the more apparent. And then those fingers shifted to hook around where the buttons held the fabric down, it spoke of intention more than action. He was quite content to kiss him.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor grinned against Jack's mouth. This, this was good. This was what they needed, the two of them. Far too often, things got so muddled or confused, they were never on the right wavelength. This was good. This was right.

He broke the kiss and pressed his mouth to Jack's jaw. He could taste the water from the ocean, along with some sweat, and some of Jack's pheromone. If he were scientifically minded (which, as a matter of fact, he was), he might go so far as to try to determine the pH in Jack's body from the taste.

Of course, he couldn't get too caught up in the details. Thoroughness was, after all, an important part of any experiment.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

As soon as the Doctor's lips were gone from his own, Jack felt the loss. He let out a gasping breath, un-tempered, and he smiled as his lips touched his jaw. He had wanted this a long time, yes, but more than want, he needed it, and he suspected the Doctor did too. And it would be okay. Things would be okay.

The fingers that touched at the Doctor's shirt twisted a little more then, pulled in such a way that moved the fabric free of the buttons, a way too that looked almost accidental. It wasn't, of course.

"So," he said as he took in a deep breath, "Mr. Variable, I do hope you intend to provide a full analysis."

And then beneath that? A little more truth shone through on a shaky breath of his own, "Oh I want you."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"I intend to," he murmured, far more focused on Jack's closeness than keeping up the pretense of being a cold scientist. There were plenty of options, plenty of things to try, things he'd been a bit too nervous to actually attempt in the past. But, well, if Jack wanted him to experiment...

He took in a sharp breath at Jack's words. For all his false ego, sometimes it just felt good to be wanted. And he wanted Jack, too. Pretty much far more than he'd wanted anything in a very long while.

"Now, be cooperative," he said, his voice teasing.

He lacked the finesse Jack had at undoing clothing, so he moved a little more slowly, moving to slide one of Jack's braces down, and then the other. A Time Lord was patient, and the Doctor could be, too.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

"Glad to hear it," Jack said, tilting his head a little to allow the Doctor access to a little more space, a little more skin. His body coaxing and leading him on with no words needed.

His fingertips tingled and he wondered if he wasn't just imagining all of this. Wondered if he'd blink and it'd be gone. To want and to crave something so much and then to have it, it was a delirious feeling. Jack of course wanted more than merely the sexual though he couldn't pretend that wasn't what took over his mind right now, but the rest was there, surrounding it, and it would come. He was confident of that.

"Yes, Sir," he replied, twisting his smile to a smirk. "I intend to be fully compliant."

He shifted to help the Doctor, while not making a conscious move to take the job from him. A shift of shoulder here and arm there, and the delicacy and delay of it all just made that tingle all the stronger. The Doctor was good at this too, he wondered if he knew.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"Calculated studies require extra effort," he explained, reaching up to slowly undo the buttons on Jack's shirt. There was more effort involved in making sure his hands didn't shake than he wanted to admit, but he was, surprisingly, nervous. Things were going well. Surprisingly well. Much better than they usually did with him and Jack, especially lately.

"You wear more layers than I do," the Doctor commented, tracing his forefinger along the white undershirt below Jack's blue shirt. "And that's saying a good bit, actually. Never could figure out how many shirts worked under a suit. And I've been trying for a while."

He slid his finger down Jack's sternum slowly, as though making a careful point, but mostly to feel the warmth of his companion against his skin.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

"Well you know I always think it's worth going that extra mile. If you want something done you'd best do it well, isn't that right, Doctor?"

His eyes flicked down again to watch the Doctor work on each button. He almost wanted to appraise his skill at it, because that was what it was in Jack's eyes, skilled.

"I do," he agreed. "But I look good."

Beat.

"And so do you."

He breathed an almost shaky breath as the Doctor moved his finger, and again his eyes were on it. "I should be careful," he said teasingly, "you'll be picking up tricks from me soon."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"Nah," the Doctor said, sliding his finger slowly back up. "I'd never want to steal your tricks, Jack. I prefer having them used on me."

That was more honesty than the Doctor had managed in a while. He gave Jack a small smile to go with that confession, and then moved to slip the blue shirt over his shoulders. One layer at a time. It was how the Doctor worked, his many shirt layers beneath his coat, and Jack was the same way.

One step at a time. He focused on not thinking too far ahead, not fretting. It was easier with Jack, who flirted and focused and kept the Doctor's mind from straying.

He leaned down and pressed another kiss to Jack's mouth, this one slow and sweet. A variation on the variable.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack smiled then, something a little softer and a little more personal. He appreciated too how honest the sentiment was for the Doctor. He understood that sort of honesty, and how hard it could be to display it.

"If only I'd realised that earlier, eh?" he said, his own little honesty there. He could just be himself. And that was just what he needed. Just what he wanted. That was good.

He shifted his shoulders back to assist the Doctor with removing the dampened shirt, keeping his eyes on his face the whole time, his focus utterly on him. Watching cautiously for any moment he might want or need to step back in to bolster the Doctor.

But then he found he didn't, because he was kissed and it was more. It was something different, and just as important.

His hand lifted and touched gentle to the Doctor's cheek, thumb brushing back and forth a little. He returned the kiss with the nature it was given, slow and soft and undoubtedly loving. A sentiment he reiterated quietly when their lips parted. Just a whisper, "I love you, Doctor."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"And I, you." Saying words like 'I love you' weren't easy for the Doctor, and even working around them with simple affirmaions were difficult. But with Jack, maybe it was their equally repressed romantic sides, but he felt like his companion could understand half-responses where others might not.

And he did love him. Which was frustrating in its own right, because the Doctor was never one to pick one person, much less settle down and consider what they did a relationship. But with Jack, here he was, slowly untucking his undershirt and trying to figure out how to put that sentiment into words.

Of course, as Occam's Razor often pointed out, the simplest answer was often the correct one.

"Just the way you are," he said. "Because that's who I want."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack's heart beat just that little bit faster, and it wasn't so much action as it was words. The Doctor loved him, yes, that he was sure of and there was nothing to diminish it. He wasn't saying it because he was about to die, or because it was some sort of apology or strangled admittance; merely saying it because it was true, and sure the word itself might not be there but that didn't matter, because he was saying it, Jack could hear that.

Jack didn't do love, he didn't do this and so the fact they were? It was overwhelming. But overwhelming in all the right ways.

The next words too effected him, and just as much as the last, if not more. He closed his eyes tight for a moment, tried not to let the emotions come to the surface too much (crying now really wouldn't be the look he was aiming for). But he didn't cry, he smiled, and he leaned in and kissed him again. Kissed him and put into it how good hearing that made him feel, because there was no way he could put that into words.

And so, while he kissed him, he reached his arms to the Doctor's shirt, pulled it free of his trousers, undid the last of the buttons, and pushed it back over his shoulders. Because that's what he wanted to do. And he understood now, that was okay.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor broke the kiss, just long enough to pull Jack's shirt over his head. He wrapped his lean arms around Jack's body, pulling him close. Jack was bulky, while the Doctor was lean. Jack was warm like a stove, the Doctor was cold like a milk bottle. Jack was flirtatious and demanding, the Doctor was neglectful and repressed. And yet, somehow, they ended up here. Here, on a strange planet called Boeshane in a small inn that could've been the universe for all the Doctor cared in this moment.

He took a step towards the bed, trying to steer Jack to something comfortable to lay back on. Scientific minds, after all, were aware that sexual relations on a bed were 85% less likely to cause back injury.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack pulled his head back while the Doctor tugged the shirt up and away, and then as soon as it had gone he returned to kissing him. His skin still felt slightly dampened from the wet clothes against him, and it seemed to heighten the coolness of the Doctor's skin against his own. It electrified him. It was something so distinctly Doctor.

And here they were, in Jack's home, a place where if he were honest with himself he'd admit that he had wanted to return for over a hundred years. But he didn't care about it. He didn't care about anything than the man next to him and the air around them.

He needed no more than a light touch to usher him towards the bed, a small press that he understood, and so he stepped, keeping the same hold on the Doctor as he did, back and back until the back's of his calves touched the edge of the bed, he very nearly tripped and he let out a small laugh against the Doctor's lips.

"Less suave of me there," he said between kisses, "if you tell stories about me, leave that bit out."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"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.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

"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.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

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?"