Captain Jack Harkness (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
quitehomoerotic) wrote2010-03-20 09:04 am
quitehomoerotic) wrote2010-03-20 09:04 am
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ambitious_woman The Bastille
Relaxed.
Relaxed was something Jack Harkness rarely felt. In fact the concept of relaxation seemed an alien one to him. But yet here he was, that was how he felt. The muscles in his body were looser than they'd felt in far too long, and pains that had held there through stress and worry had, at least for now, melted away to nothingness.
It was morning, and he opened his eyes to a world he'd come to find he liked. A place that while it was nowhere that he belonged, he'd been surprised to discover that there was a space for him. A welcoming space with a welcoming face. He wasn't sure if it was something he deserved but for once, for a time, he wasn't going to worry about that.
When he woke, beside him he saw Reinette sound asleep. It made him smile and he pressed a delicate and small kiss to the skin at her shoulder. He stayed there a moment, just smiling and watching, and he whispered to her, "I'll be right back."
And so he rose from the bed. His intent was to find food. He'd take a morning walk, just a short one in the pleasant summer morning that he could see filtering through beyond the window, and then he'd venture to the kitchens and procure themselves something.
His clothes were near, and he dressed in them, item by item and then his coat (as if he'd go anywhere without it), and out into the corridors and halls of Versailles he went.
He wasn't on his guard, of course, why should he be? Short of clockwork what need he worry about right now? And really, should he encounter clockwork, he'd merely turn it off. No, here he felt happy, he felt safe, and so that guard he had learnt to keep up, was down.
And so it was his downfall.
He found his way to the rear gardens, nodding politely to footmen on his way (people that usually he made no effort to even acknowledge). But they had noticed him. In fact they had noticed him long before he noticed them. They had been noticing him for quite some time. They had noticed him in gardens and they had noticed him behind closed doors. And Jack had no idea.
And he wasn't prepared.
Entirely unprepared for the troupe of guards that met him in the gardens. It was as though they had been waiting, as though they had sought him out (and they had, of course). And as strong as Jack could be, he was not prepared, and so he could do nothing when he was met with a blow to the head, and another blow that knocked him to the ground. Another and another until he felt metal shackles on his wrists held behind his back and a tear of fabric between his lips to quiet his shouts.
And he was taken away.
Relaxed was something Jack Harkness rarely felt. In fact the concept of relaxation seemed an alien one to him. But yet here he was, that was how he felt. The muscles in his body were looser than they'd felt in far too long, and pains that had held there through stress and worry had, at least for now, melted away to nothingness.
It was morning, and he opened his eyes to a world he'd come to find he liked. A place that while it was nowhere that he belonged, he'd been surprised to discover that there was a space for him. A welcoming space with a welcoming face. He wasn't sure if it was something he deserved but for once, for a time, he wasn't going to worry about that.
When he woke, beside him he saw Reinette sound asleep. It made him smile and he pressed a delicate and small kiss to the skin at her shoulder. He stayed there a moment, just smiling and watching, and he whispered to her, "I'll be right back."
And so he rose from the bed. His intent was to find food. He'd take a morning walk, just a short one in the pleasant summer morning that he could see filtering through beyond the window, and then he'd venture to the kitchens and procure themselves something.
His clothes were near, and he dressed in them, item by item and then his coat (as if he'd go anywhere without it), and out into the corridors and halls of Versailles he went.
He wasn't on his guard, of course, why should he be? Short of clockwork what need he worry about right now? And really, should he encounter clockwork, he'd merely turn it off. No, here he felt happy, he felt safe, and so that guard he had learnt to keep up, was down.
And so it was his downfall.
He found his way to the rear gardens, nodding politely to footmen on his way (people that usually he made no effort to even acknowledge). But they had noticed him. In fact they had noticed him long before he noticed them. They had been noticing him for quite some time. They had noticed him in gardens and they had noticed him behind closed doors. And Jack had no idea.
And he wasn't prepared.
Entirely unprepared for the troupe of guards that met him in the gardens. It was as though they had been waiting, as though they had sought him out (and they had, of course). And as strong as Jack could be, he was not prepared, and so he could do nothing when he was met with a blow to the head, and another blow that knocked him to the ground. Another and another until he felt metal shackles on his wrists held behind his back and a tear of fabric between his lips to quiet his shouts.
And he was taken away.
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Already he was commanding the space without even noticing it. His back was straight and his arm a little forward, leaned towards her and around her slightly. Fencing her in, but not blocking.
"The most important thing of all."
He smiled.
"Reinette."
Because without her, right now, he was certain. There would be no Jack.
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It was simply not who she was.
But with Jack, she was Reinette. Someone younger, less weary. She wondered if insisting he call her than had not been attempt on her own part to reclaim that part of herself.
"Yes," she agreed to the word if not his particular use of it. "Reinette."
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"Thank you," he said, fully aware he'd been told in no uncertain terms that such words were not permitted. In fact, it was largely part of the reason he spoke them.
His thumb moved around and brushed gently across her lip, watching her, his eyes on those lips before, with no preamble but that, he leaned in and kissed her.
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Except that Jack chose that precise moment, when she moved to speak to trace his thumb across her mouth and drawing from it silence instead of sound.
And then he kissed her.
She supposed she might have lectured him there. They were certainly skilled enough at it. What she would say he would understand. But she did not.
She only met him, and kissed him softly in return.
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Pressed the kiss and pressed his body too; moving in such a way so as to shift her slowly back towards the bed.
There was a slight caution in it. Not to say Jack was 100% immediately. But it was almost there, and it would take little more to complete the journey.
Against her lips, he whispered. "I'm out of practise."
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She did not laugh at his statement. She would not. But they would not dwell in it either.
"No more out of practice than I."
Reinette kissed him again, slanted softly against his mouth and brief.
"You also taste of your pizza. Old pizza. And ice cream."
And Jack, of course. There was Jack.
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He moved his hand gently across her side, feeling fabric and the shape of her body beneath it. For a moment, he glanced over and looked at it beneath his fingertips.
"Hmm," he said, all mock thoughtful. "Between you and me? I think I preferred the complicated dresses," a laugh. "Much more of a challenge."
And she knew how he liked those, didn't she?
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She heard the silence, and then spoke to fill it.
"Yes, but perhaps my clothing does not prefer you. Sadly, sadly mussed."
And then she laughed as well, something like amusement in her eyes. Or very nearly that.
"And if you think it is the dresses that are the challenge, you have not been paying proper attention Jack."
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"Oh now I always pay attention," he said with a smirk. Not entirely true, of course, but he did his best, especially where she was concerned. And oh he knew she was a challenge, from the first day they had met, she'd been a challenge. And that was what made him stay, the challenge. It was her being her that brought him back.
He looked at her for a long moment, thoughtful and contemplative, and then he leaned in and pressed another kiss to her lips, slow and lingering.
And when he pulled back? He had something to say.
"I think I might pay that king of yours a visit."
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Reinette did not break Jack's gaze, meeting it just as confidently as she met his mouth. Again, there was no rush. It simply was.
And that was all that was required.
Her eyes and thoughts, however, were slightly shadowed when he pulled back.
"Hardly mine now. Not after how we parted." Reinette continued to look at Jack. "Do you think that is wise?"
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"Wise?" he smirked. "Maybe not. Might be fun though."
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And offered no other comment to her actions.
It stood alone.
The rest she had words on.
"Fun," she breathed. "You think it will be fun. First the idea to stroll across the lawns of Versailles unclothed." There was no tentativeness now as she referred to their day together, in France. "And now this. Just have strange notions of 'fun' Jack."
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Her words were firm, but his response was anything but. He laughed a little and shot her a cheeky grin.
"What?" he said with a wide grin, "you expect me to be average?"
That was something he knew they were both quite sure he never would be.
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"Truthfully Jack, I do not know what to expect from you," Reinette admitted, her hand finally falling back to the bed below.
"It is not an all together unattractive trait. Quite the opposite, actually."
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Bravado again, of course, because Jack was fully aware of all people, Reinette was certainly rather adept at scratching beneath that surface and seeing what was underneath. She could see what was underneath, and Jack would hate that with most people, but for some reason... not with her. With her, he was glad of it.
He slid to the side on the bed, lying next to her instead, with one hand reached out and placed gently against her stomach.
"Because if you knew what was coming," he said, continuing his sentiment. "I'd stop being interesting."
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"Guessing, Jack," she mused, noting the way his hand rested on her stomach. "I will remember that." It was strange, the slight feeling of his weight there. She might not even feel it if her corsets had been properly in place. Truthfully she might not be able to lie like this at all.
"You want me to agree, I think. I say that you are interesting. To perhaps even admit that always were."
Reinette fell silent but there was something there, still sitting warm on her tongue. More words, she expected. She shared them, her eyes making a study of Jack's ceiling.
"Very well Jack," she admitted. "You were always interesting. There was not a single moment you were not."
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"Oh was I now?" he said with a full of himself smirk and a sparkle in his eyes. "I'll remember that one, you know. Not letting you forget that. Maybe I'll even get a tshirt printed 'Jack Harkness is interesting' what do you think? Think I'd look good?"
He watched her then, a wide smile on his face, and his hand lifted to her jaw, holding her chin between his thumb and forefinger.
"Yeah, well you're not too bad yourself, kid," he said softly.
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This was not quite admitting she was wrong. But it was very close.
"Will it be blue, you think? Your shirt? I will have to think on that."
It was only after a moment of resistance, in allowing herself to fully comprehend the card that had just been played -- even if it had always been unspoken -- that Reinette allowed Jack's hand to guide her chin.
Her eyebrow arched.
"Kid?"
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He felt relaxed, and really, that was saying quite a lot. He hadn't truly felt so in a very long time.
"What?" he asked, smirking slightly. "I'm old, you're a kid compared to me, you know."
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Young.
It was one thing to be old, as Jack asserted. It was another to feel it.
"If I am a child," she pointed out, acknowledging their closeness in the bed. "This particular arrangement is perhaps not all that is proper."
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"Oh I know," he said, somewhat salaciously.
He leaned in towards her ear and whispered quietly, "Who'd want proper?"
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When he spoke Jack disturbed lose hairs around her face, and she smiled at the odd, gentle sensation.
She tilted her face towards his, somehow surprised by how close that brought them. Reinette was only able to view Jack's features in parts now, broken from the whole but not at all unappealing.
There was more warmth.
"I will have you know I can be extremely proper."
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"Oh I've no doubt of that," he said quietly, his voice laced with a twinge of something that hadn't been there for a year.
"You're a lady, after all. A very proper lady. Should I expect anything less?" he whispered quieter, "I never would."
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There was something odd in her voice. Perhaps merely the way Reinette enjoyed how the vowels sat in her mouth. Or perhaps something else. Older and deeper and reflecting on a focused childhood and years of surviving at court. Or perhaps? She was teasing him.
"But you, sir, are no gentleman." Her smile tilted. She could feel the aftereffects of the change in how her breath not sat altered between them. "You have been neglectful."
What happened next took a great deal of skill on Reinette's part. Very nearly all of it, truthfully. Because there was the bed, which she reclined on. Then the room on the other side.
And Jack, of course, between.
But she slipped between and around him navigating the space until she could one again stand. If on occasion they were wont to touch? Well, it really was unavoidable. Reinette turned to survey the scenery.
"You promised to show me your room."
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Because more than anything, that was most certainly what he was doing; indulging.
He turned on the bed, moving so he was facing the other way, looking at her again as she stood. One arm shifted out, a little in her direction, almost like reaching, and intentional or not? He made nothing of it. If he even noticed it himself.
"My room," he said, with a light gesture of that hand that had so recently reached. "There," a smile, "you've seen it."
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