Hello, Casanova

A Doctor Who Fanfic by ChellusAuglerie

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own em. Want to, though. They seem like good kids.

chapter one

He was tangled in the sheets like a fallen angel, all strife and angst and ribbons of unkempt power. The Doctor was dead. He had died in Jack's arms, was still dying as Jack held him, as Jack stayed with him through the hell of his memories, as they burned him through in flames that licked out golden strands of holy taffy.

And he was burning, now. Jack did not step away, though he felt the flesh run from his face in streams of melt; the hot glaciers of his cheeks slipping down the remains of his skull. He reached up then, as his skin crisped... how very near he was to his angel, how close and fragile the god he held seemed, yet always the man was gone.

The thirty-something foxy looker was gone now, even as Jack held him; that face consumed within his gleaming cocoon of candy-stick starshine, and Jack held him through it all.

The burn faded, after a time, and the Lord of Time sat up from the bed, new, changed, ever different and yet forever the same. Now he was younger still, a sturdy youth in his twenties with swollen lips and whiter teeth and a strong jaw; a body that breathed clearer, deep eyes that paraded their health for the world to see above a mouth that craved kisses and the delicate delicacy of words. A philologist, again.

"You're a terrible beauty, you know. Just... terrible," a soft voice said from the edge of him. The newborn stared about, scoping out surroundings like a freshly birthed fawn, aloof and wise.

He looked and saw Jack standing there, having just sprung away to the safety of some nondescript corner of the room to survey the glorious damage.

"I burned you."

Jack shook his head, not moving from the corner he'd claimed.

"It's dark over there. How bad is your face, Jack?"

Jack stared at anything but the freshly minted Adonis before him, trying not to be content with the quiet that had settled on everything like a fine dust. Then, failing soundly, closing his eyes, he savoured the newness of his favorite alien, tasting and touching and hearing and smelling with his soldier's senses. But never the flesh. No, never the flesh. Any movement toward such vile contract would sully the purity of the breaths that barely graced the room, drawn from triplet lungs so hale, yet so ancient they could have been museum pieces.

"Are you coming back over here, or do I have to beg? I rather hate begging, no matter the regeneration... What say?"

The Doctor, his Time Lord, the object of Jack Harkness's never quite obviated love, paused, laughed softly, then turned to stare into the darkened corner where stood a late Victorian water cabinet splashed with tan fleur-de-lis. A man's hand appeared in the darkness, a large hand, but slender, dexterous. Agile. Full of the memory of chaste touches, and others not so chaste.

The Time Lord watched the hand slide from the cabinet, stick itself in the pocket of a pair of dark grey pants below black suspenders that held a white shirt, watched as the owner of the hand, the pants, the shirt and suspenders, ambled over with all the attentive, manicured care of a senior Maiko.

"I'm wearing the bed linens, Jack. Sure this wasn't your idea?"

Ohhh Doctor... Jack thought he might drown in the fullness of those lips.

The Doctor stayed as still as he could, smiled as thinly as he dared with those lips. They were, happily, attached to a mouth that could have given Eros pause.

"I never took you for a poet, Jack."

"I never took you for an artist, Doc."

A leg appeared beneath the sheets; two hands looped the streams of cotton fabric, draping an expert flow of white around their master's sensitivities.

"Now now, my Odysseus; let us not be like those vulgar ones, who sit on docks and rail and smoke their days away in the dens of the opium merchant."

The hand came closer, feeling for purchase in the open space between them like a blind man in an empty room.

Light echoed down through a sheer curtain striped with azul and silver; reminding them both of the TARDIS. Their smiles met, but only that, and soon the hand was falling back into the shade.

"This reminds me of a motel room I stayed in, once. A little out of the way place. There were trefoil white flowers growing through the cracks in the pavement out front. One vacancy left, I take it?" mused the Doctor flatly, his quick rainwater blue eyes taking in the stream of sunlight that cut across Jack's face.

"The gods punish you unjustly, Prometheus," Jack whispered into the window, smushing himself against the frost-tipped panes. They reminded him of marzipan.

"Too sweet... " he murmured, gazing at the reflection of another man in the glass. "... and to think I was ever an artist. I do hope you'll be schooling me in all the basics, sir, else I may have to resort to guerilla tactics in order to get my diploma."

"Well, my good Captain Jack, I've always known you had a lust for antiques. In any case," the Time Lord looked on the Captain with pause. His dark eyes, blush-black now, paused over the chest, the tight neck, rose up and paused across the high voltage smile that could beam lanterns to life. He paused at the inkling of buttocks that butted themselves against the side of a washstand, pressing tautly into the creamy corner between wood and plaster. Then he continued, standing up from the bed with the ease of a practised concubine as the sheets revealed the thick, icicle stab of patient phallus beneath the white of themselves. "... I stand here now, presenting such prominent posture as to never be denied my whims."

"You... ah... always did know how to show a man a good time, Doctor." Jack gazed on the alien's reflection in the window, unable to turn and look upon the reality. "I think your ah, sonic wins the ribbon. I don't know what to say."

The Doctor took a step toward Jack, aiming his entirety toward him as he swayed into place beside those white shirted shoulders, bound by suspenders and chained by more years than any human should have dreamt of.

All right. Poor thing. He'd start it, then.

"Hello, beautiful. Worry much?"

All at once, Jack felt himself steal a breath from the cold air. Then he waited, caging it in his lungs for a moment or two before turning and exhaling used carbon dioxide into the thick scruff of browns obscuring the Doctor's right temple.

They embraced.

Heat echoed up from them both as they squirmed in mid freefall on their long long journey to the floor. Kisses were smothered against tender folds, and bruises formed as they both nearly struck the ground, tumbling across a bloody pair of ruined converse and a long blue coat with a bullet hole in the left breast.

"Mmm... " Jack moaned with savour, "... you taste like honey and rain... "

With a juicy ripe twist of anticipation, the Time Agent hardened against the cushion of exobiotic quadriceps, coveting taut white cushions of sinew he'd sought for so long. And still, there were other landscapes of flesh to be sensed, new and exotic valleys to be surveyed. More lush alien wilderness to claim as his own.

"Oh is that it then? Not blood and metal, or apple grass, or candle wax from all those days in the TARDIS library?" the Doctor teased quietly, joying in the joy he was giving the very old human who straddled him now, the only regret -albeit an amusing one- being that said human hadn't taken off his pants yet.

"Are you challenging me, Doctor?" Jack murmured, rubbing against the alien's bare chest and purring like a cat as he reached down and wiggled his way out of his sex wet trousers.

The Doctor's thin accoutrement of sheet soon followed, and then they were tangled together on the floor, bathing at last in a pool of clothing and sex and the shared heat of yearning.

"Hrm. Quite. Care to open the hood? I'd say I've just washed, but I'm always clean. Always... prepared."

The Time Lord spread his legs out before Jack, beckoning him, then crossed his ankles and waited, bearing an impossibly alluring half-grin on his face that could have turned a Cat Nun into a Devon Rex for all that he turned every living thing to inanimate jelly with those crystal bright teeth of his. And those puppy dog eyes. They bore more than a trace of health, in this latest regeneration, his eleventh, and of course, he knew exactly how Jack Harkness planned on keeping him sane.

The distance between looks and caressing was soon closed, and afterward the Doctor could feel the color of heat as Jack's thick, raw length massaged his nether barriers. Well, what could he say? It was easy to relax with Jack now, like this. It had been so long, so terribly, terribly long since someone had gentled him in this way. He doubted he could even remember the first. Well, he said that, but...

"Am I doing you all right, Doc? Not hurting you?" Jack said patiently, waiting out the Time Lord's spaced stare as he smoothed the sway of his hips and held himself. He wasn't called Captain for nothing, and he had been saving things back for just such an occasion as this. Ianto had been his Earth, but the Doctor was his Heaven.

"Ah. Well, I'm a bit tight, but you're a clever boy. And so am I. But just to be safe, let's start with preschool first and then try for the higher maths."

Jack nodded, his nethers quivering with their own weight as he swiveled his hips just so and slid forward a centimetre, pushing slightly on the Time Lord's swelling ingress, which was already damp and sliding open as he stared.

"You work fast, Doc. How long did it take you to release those smart little hormones of yours? Was it five seconds after the tone, or did you have to phone ahead?"

The Time Lord laughed, carefully, as Jack was about to breach his wet and weeping channel, and so he let out a soft, fluttering sigh that rather resembled a shiver.

"Bit of a multi-tasker, me. Do you want to see my room?"

"Mrs. Robinson! I think you're trying to seduce me!" Jack was sweating now, eager for entry.

As the Doctor shifted slightly downward, Jack slid forward, beginning the course with light, easy thrusts. He hadn't torn anything, the Doctor would have said.

"That depends," said the Time Lord lazily through a slight lisp, licking lips swelled to bursting by some of Jack Harkness' more industrious kisses while he arched, bodily, expertly, raising up from the pile of clothes to feed his steadily sucking womb another morsel of Captain. "...do you like cupboards and cupcakes, or are you a silk and roses man? Chocolate covered strawberries, perhaps?"

Jack tried very hard not to laugh himself silly and spill seed all over the Doctor before he could give them all a proper send off.

"I think... your sacred cauldron... could be a bit... greedy, Doc."

The Time Lord groaned, his body pulling on Jack with only a fraction of his ten lives' strength. Jack was coming closer to climax. Time to pull out all the stops.

"Well, our natural born ancestors were considered quite the old hands at various forms of magickal manipulation. So, technically I'm descended from a Tanuki Pot."

Jack stopped thrusting instantly and stared, then bent down and kissed him, lips fiercely groping lips in a frenzy of need.

"Mmm. Tastes so good. So... you're saying... the more we... do this... " he managed, panting as he drove into the Doctor like a medieval battering ram, "... then the more likely it is you'll... "

The Doctor gazed into the impossible human's bright blue eyes as he asked, quite playfully, "... acquire enough deoxyribonucleicacid to extract in order to create a proper biological environment so I can attend to the business of popping out Time Tots like Christmas party biscuits? Yes. Something like that. So hurry up already! I'm getting cold, and you're a bloody ice pick when you're chilly."

"Hrm. Are you going to nag me like this every night, Honey?"

"I should think so! Get a move on!"