quitehomoerotic | RP for mrsharker

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RP for mrsharker

It's early evening and in the half light the Bay has a comfortable quiet. Jack sent the team off to have a little social time. They've all worked so hard lately and they could do with it. He went for a walk, somewhere with a high roof and a vantage point for him to look over the city.

He's back on his way home now, taking a slow stroll down Lloyd George Avenue and back towards Butetown and the Bay. Outside the Millennium centre are couples and people milling around, all preparing for an evening of entertainment. It makes Jack smile as he seems them all, all safe in this city he loves so much.

On his way across the Plass he takes a slight de-tour to one of the poster boards, to take a look at just what these people are waiting to see. The sight before him though is not one he expects, and one he's far from prepared for.

The face is familiar, oh so familiar, and his breath gets caught in his chest, taking him a moment or two to realise he isn't breathing at all.

"It can't be," he whispers, but there's nobody there to listen.

Jack's eyes are swimming and he's glued to the spot. This can't be right, he's sure this can't be right. Just an odd co-incidence. Someone who happens to look similar. It has to be. It can't be her.

But it doesn't hurt to make sure. So instead of back to the Hub, Jack heads into the Millennium center and with the aid of the word 'Torchwood', he goes backstage.

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"I'll let you know when, then," she promises. She hasn't moved an inch, a preternatural stillness settling over her under his gaze.

He's glorious, she thinks. And oh, how she's missed him.

Jack does his best to make his words sound utterly innocent, nothing more than idle curiosity. But there's such a depth in them, so much more.

"So... what would you prefer now? The gentle... or something a little more firm?"

His eyebrow raises just ever so slightly and he lifts himself up on his knees to move a little higher, his face level with her chest.

"Whatever comes the most naturally," Mina smiles. Finally, she moves from that deathly stillness, tracing one fingertip along his jawline.

She never takes her eyes off him. He's a veritable ball of potential energy, coiled and waiting. "I want you."

He feels that now familiar rush, that tingle along his spine, his hairs standing on end. And he's lost to her.

Her words seal it. He can't and won't refuse her. Wouldn't even dream of it. He's bent to her whim without even realising it.

"I'm all yours."

"You," she clarifies. "Not whomever you feel the need to pretend to be for whatever reason. Not even my Jonathan. I want to know you, Jack." Mina lays her hand on his cheek. "I want no more pretense, no nonsense. Honesty. I know your name now show me the rest. Show me."

He acknowledges her words with a brief and barely there nod. It's a little frightening, in a way, to imagine being entirely himself, entirely Captain Jack Harkness. What if she doesn't like what she sees? He can't take it back.

It's a risk. But a risk he's willing to take.

His face seems to change. A little less soft, a little more stern. His back straightens and he stands tall on his knees.

"If Jack's what you want," he smirks, a smirk that turns into a slow grin, so very far away from Jonathan. "Then oh baby, Jack is what you're gonna get."

There's no warning now when he leans into kiss her. It's not like before. It's more open and demanding, strong and forceful. His hand cups the side of her face along her jawline, guiding her into the kiss, his fingers curling around into her hair.

The hand that sits on her hip slinks around her waist and with a firm grip pulls her body close to his, each of her legs either side of his.

It's a little frightening for Mina, too, the way his face and posture shift and it's almost as though she's looking at a stranger. A stranger she's seen glimpses of over a very long time, but a stranger nonetheless.

No one's ever called her 'baby' before. She's not sure what she thinks of that. But he kisses her like a man well used to getting precisely what he wants out of any given situation. It's enough to turn her head.

Mina returns the kiss, giving herself over to his ardor, her small hands grasping his shoulders as he kisses her like she's never been kissed before.

He's in a different mindset now. Barely even the one he usually comfortably sits. It helps now to flicker back to that man from long ago, the Time Agent, a con man on the run.

Sure that his grip around her waist is strong enough he tugs her against him one more time and begins to lift himself from his knees into a standing position, taking her with him.

He doesn't break the kiss for a moment, and his movements (even if they're not) seem almost effortless. He turns and moves to the wall, letting her back rest against it, better support for them both. His tongue exploring her mouth with wanton desire.

As he continues to kiss he slithers a hand to her chest and along the line of the hooks that close together her underwear. With just one finger, and with one swift movement he starts to undo them.

It's almost too much. A veritable showcase of just how little she really knows about him. She had asked, though, oh, she'd asked for it. But she hadn't expected to really find herself in a stranger's arms. Not to this extent.

She wonders (she can't help but wonder) if this is how her bites felt. If she was as much a stranger to him as he feels to her. She wonders, too, if this is how men kiss one another--

That thought is shut away quickly.

In fact, she's thinking too much. It's a problem and he's going to feel it on her soon, she just knows it. Mina wants, very much, to have some real sense of who this man she once married is. (They're both so different now... what if their time passed long ago?)

She keeps kissing him, too, fangs in check and her fingers back in his short, soft hair.

It's almost too easy for Jack to get lost in a man he used to be. A man he was before the Doctor, before he reshaped himself. It takes a moment or two for him to realise, but he does, and his eyes flicker open a little.

He reminds himself she wants Jack. She's not looking for some extreme. Not looking for him to prove himself, and she's not some conquest as he might have once had.

He thinks then about how he is now, tries to reconcile his behaviour with that. How he knows he can be. How -though it's hardly fitting given what he's doing- he acts with Ianto when they're alone.

The kiss softens. Not completely, it's still leading and he's still in control, but it's more receptive, more responsive. His fingers shift from her underwear and to her face, a gentle hold, pushing some hair back behind her ear. He rubs a thumb across her hip with his other hand. And this is Jack. This is Jack now.

She can feel him shift yet again. Yet another different man in her arms. Who are you really? she wants to ask. She wonders if she'll ever really know. This him leaves her less wary, though, and when she breaks the kiss, Mina drags his lower lip between her teeth.

Her eyes wander over his face for what feels like the hundredth time, trying to find the key to unlocking him. It's deeply, deeply odd to have such an enigma before her. Mina's used to being the puzzle. She's used to being mother and helper and friend to much simpler men.

She doesn't say anything, but guides his braces off his shoulders, begins to unbutton his shirt.

Jack breathes hot air against her lips and smiles. Carefully, he whispers, "You all right?"

He's trying to find a synergy with himself. Trying to be the person he is when he's not holding back. It's almost unfortunate that he has to draw on recent experience with Ianto to be able to reach it. Only highlighting to him just how much the man means and how much he's betraying him right now.

That dawning on him, he's not sure he can go on. His kisses slow and his hold on her relaxes as he lets her go, puts her down.

Catching his breath he pauses and rests his forehead against hers.

"You're not," Mina points out. "Talk to me."

She trails her fingertips across his cheek and moves away from him. It's easier, in a way, for her. Easier to find that motherly, friendly place and retreat firmly there (his wouldn't be the first advances she's escaped like this).

She turns her back and makes short work of her corselet, replacing it with a men's cut pajama shirt in black silk. It skims her curves, highlighting without accentuating. Over her cream-coloured silk knickers, she pulls the pajama pants. The arms and legs of her pajamas have been hemmed to account for her short stature.

There's nothing Jack can say for a moment. He shakes his head and closes his eyes tight. His hands rest forward against the wall and he doesn't turn to look at her now.

After a moment he gathers himself, and almost to his surprise he finds that there are tears forming in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispers under his breath, finally turning back to her.

"For what?"

There's no blame in her voice. No condemnation. Perhaps there's disappointment somewhere, but Mina doesn't show it.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. Life goes on. People change."

Jack shakes his head a little. Sighs. In so many ways he hasn't changed. So much of what he is now was part of what he was then, she just never knew it. Never knew that side of him.

"It not that I don't want you. Believe me, I want you. But..." his voice softens, almost sad sounding. "It would hurt him. He's been hurt enough, and he means a lot to me. More than he probably knows."

"You're a good man," Mina says quietly. A good man she feels like she barely knows anymore. She'd like to have the chance to get to know him... and, deep down, she's rather glad he stopped them from proceeding because it felt like a stranger -- like many different strangers -- touching her. And she didn't have the heart to stop him because she'd asked him to, she'd told him to be himself. She doesn't have it in her to reject that sort of vulnerability.

She fetches her hairbrush from the bathroom and returns with it. Climbs carefully into bed and starts brushing her hair out: one hundred strokes every night. It's a routine she's had since childhood and she busies herself with it because she doesn't know what to say to him.

"Am I?" He asks with a shake of the head. "I'm not so sure about that. I try to be, but I don't think it always works."

He's tired and it shows. Too many emotions all at once, hitting him from different directions. "This has all been a lot. For both of us." He sighs.

"I think I should probably go. This isn't fair on anyone."

She's not sure he'll come back if he leaves. She's not sure he should. She's not sure of much.

"Good night, Jack," Mina takes what could be one last look at him. (He's still so beautiful it makes her heart hurt.)

It's so hard. Hard to be here, hard to leave. He takes a breath and steps towards the side table, reaching for the pad and pen sitting atop a pointless ink-blotter. He jots a number. His private line at Torchwood. The page rips as he pulls it from the pad and he folds it up while walking over to her.

"Take this. It's my number. Call me. Please."

He leans over and places a gentle kiss to her cheek. "Goodnight, Mina."

It's a real shock that he leaves the ball in her court. Mina truly didn't expect that and she doesn't know what to think. She doesn't know if she'll ever be able to make that telephone call. She's disrupted them both more than enough now. No more concerts in Cardiff...

Another shock: the kiss. She stalls in brushing out her hair as he kisses her, and it's almost enough to crack the ice she's already wrapping herself in. She takes the offered paper and sets it just under the edge of the lamp.

"Goodnight," she echoes.

Jack moves away and stays in silence as he takes his shoes and gently re-laces them. He stands and takes his coat, slipping back into it.

For just a brief moment he turns and watches her. His heart clenching a little.

And then he leaves.

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