For rude_not_ginger:Two Immortals One TARDIS Insert scene. Valent

[quitehomoerotic]

It had been 50 years since Jack had seen the Doctor. It had been 50 years since Jack had been Jack. 50 years, and he still felt the same. Some days he hated that, it frustrated him and annoyed him and made him want to scream. And some days, it just made him lonely. This was one of those days.

It was Valentines day. A stupid Earth holiday that really meant nothing, but people put so much stock into. Everywhere you went there were balloons shaped like hearts and people holding hands and declaring their love. It made Jack grumpy, and he could never and would never explain why.

So he shut himself away from it. He was in a small flat in a city that seemed to be nothing but small flats. Somewhere full of people where he could at the same time, be completely alone.

And he sat on his own, watching broadcasts on a television with a bottle of scotch to soothe his pains.

50 years, and it still felt like yesterday.

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"Me, too," the Doctor said. His emotions were too close to the surface. He shouldn't have been admitting that, shouldn't have been kissing Jack, shouldn't have been here, wanting him. Wanting to have forever with him when being with him meant Jack's life would end.

"Just---tonight," he said. "With me. Just once. Just---so we can---"

He had no idea what he wanted, but he didn't want to lose Jack, and it looked like no matter what he did, he would. It was horrible. It hurt. He ached from it.

He began fumbling with the edge of Jack's t-shirt, trying to pull it over his head. Big mistakes, bad ideas, yes, but he'd already made too many of them tonight to really start regretting yet.

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Another pain. Another beautiful pain; sharp and to the heart. The Doctor loved him, he loved him, he still loved him. And oh he wanted to argue, he wanted to shout and plead but what good would it do? It wouldn't, and it would waste the time he had to touch him and kiss him and hold him and share. And he wasn't sure he could do that.

So he merely went along, nodding fiercely. "Yes," he said, "anything." He didn't even care to what he was agreeing. But if the Doctor wanted something from him, then he would give it.

Jack wasn't drunk, and he knew this was a bad idea, but he was running on adrenaline, and that spurred him forward as he shifted and allowed the Doctor to pull off his tshirt before he reached out and pushed his suit jacket back over his shoulders, almost roughly trying to remove it. He didn't want to waste time

With another step, he moved them over towards the bed.

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Lacking any semblance of grace or, well, dignity, he stumbled backwards and fell back onto the bed. The room was still spinning around him and he wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the situation that kept it in motion.

He leaned up and caught Jack's hand, trying to tug him down with him, trying to place his palm against the Doctor's temple. Any connection he'd attempt with Jack would be sloppy and messy at best in this state, but he wanted it. He wanted, just for a moment, to feel that close to him again.

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Jack moved with him, moved easily onto the bed so that he was practically straddling him on it, his limbs felt loose and weak and as though any moment at all he might fall apart. And he had no idea how that could feel so good.

He could tell straight away what he was doing when he took his hand, and it made Jack nervous. It made him shake a little inside. Oh that had been so long, and it was so very intimate and close. But he wanted it, oh he wanted it, and so he held his hand there, exactly where the Doctor put it.

He only wished the Doctor wanted this when he was sober.

"Tell me you love me," Jack said as he moved back down to press another kiss to his lips."

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The Doctor shut his eyes at Jack's request. His brain was spinning, spinning so fast he wasn't sure he could've remained standing before if he wanted to. He reached up to kiss Jack, putting his own hand to Jack's head.

Inhibitions were gone, replaced entirely by desire and want. He wanted Jack, he wanted this, he wanted to never leave. So right now, he'd pretend he could. He kissed Jack desperately, longingly, and held him close.

"You must know I do," he whispered.

He opened his mind to Jack, letting it spill out carelessly to him.

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Until it happened, Jack hadn't realised just how much he'd missed it. The connection, their minds touching eachother, his own mind sitting just shallowly in the Doctor's thoughts. It was overwhelming and it was so wonderful, it made him want to cry and laugh and moan all at once. So many emotions, and he wanted to fall into it forever.

"Say it," Jack urged. It didn't matter if he knew, it didn't matter if he suspected. He wanted to hear him say the words. He wanted them in his mind, even if only now.

And fifty years on, Jack still remembered what to do. All that emotion he felt, the wonderful pain and the rush, he pushed it through that shaky connection and along to the Doctor. He wanted him to feel it.

And at the same time, Jack wanted him. Oh how he wanted him. His body moved faster now, more urgently, and he reached down to the Doctor's trousers, moving himself from over him to his side to open the button and unzip the zip.

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The Doctor could feel it, there. The want for the words, the acknowledgment. When Rose didn't have the words back on the beach, she should've known, Jack had no reason to think the Doctor loved him, not after all of this.

He gasped in the real world as pleasure shot up his spine from Jack's touch. It had been a very long time since he'd done this, since he'd been anywhere close to this intimate with anyone. He'd avoided it, he'd run. He didn't want it, he wanted the man he was with, now. The emotions he felt should've been funneled and carefully sorted before being handed to Jack, but in his state, he couldn't. Everything was just there, open for him.

"I love you," he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

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Jack felt it. He felt it and he heard it and he needed it. The words were important, of course, so important, but the emotion he could feel, tumbling from the Doctor's mind was overwhelming. He very nearly found himself having to pull away from his touch. It made him want to cry, and it made his heart swell. He felt loved, and he hadn't in so long. Just the one man he'd really wanted to love him, that he thought had and was proved so very wrong, was proved wrong yet again. The Doctor loved him.

He loved him.

Jack's hand shook as he fumbled with the buttons on the Doctor's shirt. This wasn't the sexually charged man he could be, he was nervous and small, like a desperate little boy trying to be a man. He shifted and moved, and shirt open he pushed his hand back to his trousers and inside to already take a firm grasp of him. He didn't want to wait, he wanted him here and now.

"I want you," he said, both verbally and in his mind.

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"Yes," the Doctor agreed. He wanted Jack, too, and he wanted forever and he wanted---but he couldn't, though he wanted it.

He could feel Jack's nervousness, feel the way Jack felt when he was told he loved him. It felt more real to the Doctor than his own diluted drunken feelings, and he clung to them, tried to pull them towards him so he'd never forget this moment. Though he know, eventually, he'd want to.

He fumbled with Jack's jeans, trying to unbutton them and unzip them and finding both tasks significantly more difficult with his brain in six different places.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

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"No," Jack said, "no," he let out a laugh. "Don't apologise, it's perfect."

And it was. Strange, but it was. The Doctor's fumbling fingers, his touch to his forehead, a connection in his mind. These were things he'd attempted to replicate with men who looked a little similar. A clinch that was never quite right, but this was, because it was him, imperfections and all.

He moved his hand back from the Doctor to help him with the buttons on his jeans and shift them down over his hips. It was a struggle, but one he wasn't going to allow to hinder him.

Job done, he wriggled free of the fabric and went back to the Doctor's trousers, pulling them over his hips and tugging them from under him. "Off, off," he said urgently.

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Off, off. Yeah, yeah, he'd get to it.

He was suddenly very fascinated with Jack's chest, and he really wanted to get a better look at it. By 'look', of course, the Doctor was actually fascinated with what different areas might taste like. He leaned forward and traced his tongue across the tip of Jack's left nipple, then down his torso. He was bent a little awkwardly, his hand still up to Jack's forehead as he lowered his mouth to Jack's ribcage, then back up to taste the other nipple. He tucked each bit of information into his mind, where it promptly sloshed about with his other drunken thoughts.

Time meant nothing. They were here, together.

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Swiftly, and rather suddenly, Jack found himself letting out a deep seated moan. The touch to his chest, lips and tongue, it was exquisite, and the arm that propped himself up shuddered and faltered. So he quickly finished up pulling the Doctor's trousers off, not even bothering to remove his trainers, just tugging the fabric over them.

Task done, he slid down to the side of the Doctor, moving beside him on the bed.

Lifting his hand, he touched it over the Doctor's where it touched his temple, and concentrating he pushed through a wave of pleasure, trying to rush it through to the Doctor's core. Gently, he turned his head and pressed his lips to the Doctor's wrist.

And he almost felt like they had never lost each other.

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He cried out at the sudden rush of pleasure, and his back arched involuntarily. He tried to give the sensations he felt back to Jack, to show him what it meant to him, being here like this. His thoughts were a mess, of course, but he did his best to concentrate them.

He didn't have a hand free, so he reached into Jack's mind and plucked along the nerve centers in his mind. Once he found the ones in his arm, playing them like he might a harp until he found the nerves along his wrist, underneath the vortex manipulator.

Pluck pluck pluck. He grinned, waiting for the reaction.

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Nobody had touched him like that. Nobody had touched him in his mind at all, of course. But there, that place, that secret place that long ago, without ever telling him, he'd decided was the Doctor's. To have it touched again, either physically or mentally, it sent shivers along his spine.

Jack let out a moan, something throaty and loud. He laughed a shaky laugh and leaned forward, kissing him. "Cheeky," he said, his voice just as shaky too.

Again, he put his hand against him, sliding it between him to take a firm grasp, touching him and stroking him and teasing him, reacting to how the emotion fizzled through the connection.

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He grinned at Jack, feeling stupidly pleased with himself for finding that spot in Jack's mind. For finding the place that was---

"Mine?" he asked, plucking the space in his mind again and thinking of Jack's wrist. He felt emotion, possibly exaggerated by the alcohol, though perhaps not, bubble up inside of him. Jack loved him, yes, but Jack loved a lot of people. The fact that that one place, that one very sensitive place, was the Doctor's spoke more volumes than anything else could.

But before he could properly word that, Jack's hand did something absolutely magnificent and the Doctor found himself moaning and letting his head fall back in pleasure.

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It wasn't that Jack had forgotten how this worked; not like he didn't know that a connection opened would let through thoughts and emotions and everything in between. But it wasn't quite so second nature now, it had been a long time, and when the Doctor responded verbally to something that was only mentally spoken, Jack was almost shocked.

He wasn't going to shy away from it though, and really, now that he knew he was glad. "Yes," he said, moving his head forward to kiss a line along the Doctor's neck.

"All yours. Only yours."

Jack had had sex with a lot of people since the Doctor, but none of that mattered, they weren't him.

The noise, the sound of his moaning, and the reaction both inside and out, it was intoxicating, and Jack continued the movements with his hand, more of the same, never too much, stroking and twisting and touching.

And oh it looked so good to see him like that.

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He wasn't nearly as coordinated as Jack, but he stroked him with the same slow movements, twisting his long fingers around the shaft and applying pressure as he went up. He sought out Jack's responses in his mind and reacted accordingly. Well, what he hoped was accordingly. Lots of thoughts going by very fast with lots of alcohol swishing them about.

He'd wanted to come here before. To find Jack, to apologize, or to just hold him. Sometimes, on lonely nights, to be like this with him. He never did, though. He never had the courage to even call. Now, here they were.

He murmured Jack's name as he felt his warm mouth along his neck. He wanted to do so much with him, now. He wanted to be on top, to be taken by Jack, to just stay like this---so much, but there wasn't enough time. Only one night. Only now.

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Whether it was intentional or not, Jack could hear the stream of thoughts and consciousness coming from the Doctor. He wondered if he knew what he was thinking. Jack wanted to tell him that he could always come to him, that no matter what happened, if he needed someone, Jack would be there. After all, that was what Jack did, wasn't it?

It probably shouldn't have, but it felt good to know that when the Doctor was lonely, it was him he thought of. Because he was still there waiting for him. Still needing him.

For a moment he thought of looking in the Doctor's mind and probing for the reason he left him on that planet at that ball all those years aog. But that wouldn't be fair, would it? It wasn't his information to take.

He saw all the things the Doctor wanted, and he wanted all of those too. But he saw the caveat that came with the desire. One night, never enough.

So he tapped gently at his arm and gestured him towards the other side of the bed. Briefly, he shot an image through to him, one of himself sitting up with the Doctor sitting straddling him. Him inside the Doctor, and the two of them kissing. Quite a romantic image, really. And that was what he wanted.

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The Doctor's eyes widened at the image. Right, that was a good idea. Combining several of the Doctor's internal fantasies and making them into one. Now that, that was skill.

"Blimey, that's detailed," he said, shooting Jack an impressed look. "But is that really what my hair looks like from the back?"

He was teasing, of course, though he promptly moved as Jack instructed him. He thought he knew exactly where he needed to go next, but the edge of the bed came a bit sooner than he expected, and he tumbled off in a heap.

"Ow."

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"What, you expect any less from me?" Jack said back with a wide grin. "Had to have something to keep me going all these years haven't I?"

He let out a warm laugh and started to move on the bed. But that was of course when the Doctor suddenly disappeared. His hand removed, the connection severed. It was unpleasant and sharp but Jack reminded himself the Doctor was still there.

"Don't suppose that knocked some sense into you, did it?" Jack teased as he moved over to help him up. "Come here."

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The Doctor reached out and took his hand, then pulled himself up on the bed. His ego was thoroughly bruised, as were his knees, but he'd survive. He'd probably never live it down, but he'd survive.

"Been more dignified, I think," he said, sniffing a little. He reached out for Jack's head again and brushed his hair back, focusing on the feel of that, the feel of the physical touch, before moving to connect them again.

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Jack smiled at the Doctor as he settled up on the bed. "Yeah well I don't need dignity," he said. And no, he didn't, he needed him. How was he possibly going to cope when this was over?

He doubted he would.

As the Doctor touched him, Jack's eyes closed and he let out a long breath.

"Don't suppose you can tether that there permanently, can you?" he asked, only partly serious. It would be nice though, he thought. Even if he never saw him again, to know there was that. Still together somehow.

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"It's been done before," he said, massaging Jack's skin as he kept them linked. "But I couldn't possibly now. Can barely keep track of my own thoughts as it is."

It occasionally happened, maybe a dozen or two times in Gallifreyan history. The equivalent of marriage, but those were very rare.

But when this was over, he'd leave. Jack would be alone, he would be alone. And how would it be fair, to leave Jack tethered like that? Jack deserved to move on. He didn't deserve the Doctor showing up in his thoughts for the rest of his life.

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Oh the Doctor would be in Jack's thoughts. It didn't take a psychic link for that. He'd always be there. Much a part of him as anything could be.

"I know," Jack said. He let out a long breath and tried to smile. "You know if this is the break up sex it's been a long time coming," he tried to tease and laugh but it wasn't really there.

He wished he could fall into it and forget all else, but he couldn't. And he found himself whispering a question; "Is this the last time I'll ever see you again?"

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Break-up sex. What a thing to call it. It was almost enough for the Doctor to leave in a drunken rage. It wasn't as simple as a breakup, they weren't as simple as exes and he didn't want this to be the last time. He never wanted it to end.

So no, he mentally informed Jack. Not break-up sex. Just...sex.

As for Jack's next question, it took the Doctor by surprise. See him again? Wasn't that the idea? One more time and never again? Could he really stay away? He had to stay away and he knew it, but could he really?

"Not if I'm lucky," the Doctor replied, giving him a smile.