Author note: Ye gad, I finally wrote something! And it's... my first attempt at smut, actually. Murhar. Jacobyte and Jonathan are my young Jack Harkness and John Hart, as they were in the Time Agency and in the looped five years. They have maaaany stories written for them by me, because they refuse point blank to leave my head.

Casual insanity aside, I hope you enjoy!


Revenge is Best Served Cold

After several weeks of water wakeup calls, Jacobyte had had enough. Revenge was needed, and soon.

The next day, when Jonathan wandered out of the bathroom wearing naught but a towel around his hips and a sated grin on his face, Jacobyte pulled him in for a good ol' snog.

"Morning," he murmured against Jonathan's lips.

"Morning," Jonathan returned, pulling away only to totter into the opposite wall. "Wha—"

"You alright?" Jacobyte wrapped an around around Jonathan's waist to support him.

"I can't—" Another wobble. Jacobyte lowered him to the carpet as his legs gave out. Jonathan's eyes looked wild. "What'd y'do?"

"Call it pay back." Jacobyte grinned unashamedly. Paused. "Hey," he said, voice soft. He cupped Jonathan's cheeks in both his hands. "You trust me?"

"Bast'd."

Jacobyte kissed him on the curve of his cheekbone, not wanting to apply too much of the paralytic. He scrubbed his lips with the sleeve of his shirt and leant down further to whisper by Jonathan's ear. "You're going to love this."

Jonathan went limp. No jerking, protesting muscles. Just stillness. Jacobyte closed his eyelids with a fond smile. Spoilers.

***

The first thing Jonathan felt was a tingle on his lips. It spread out along the sides of his mouth, down his throat and up through his nostrils. His spine quivered as it came back into existence.

Jacobyte, his returning senses told him. Jacobyte kissing him?

Jonathan's fingers twitched. He was going to strangle Jacobyte.

Except... slight technical hitch.

"Wakey, wakey, starshine."

Something was wrapped around each of Jonathan's wrists and most of the way up his legs. A flat surface under his cheek and all the way along the front of his body. He opened his eyes to see Jacobyte's smug face. "The fuck you done?"

"Language," Jacobyte chided, pushing up and trailing a finger down Jonathan's spine, delving lightly into the crack between his arse cheeks.

"You've lashed me to the fucking table!"

Jacobyte gave him a sharp slap. "If you don't calm down, I'll have to leave you like this until you're in a better mood."

"I'll show you a better mood," Jonathan muttered, pulling on the... dressing gown ties? Where was the professionalism? ...that kept his arms outstretched.

"Will you indeed?"

"Yeah. Let me the fuck up."

"Where would the fun be in that?" Jacobyte massaged the top of Jonathan's thighs, tracing lightly on the insides to make him quiver and buck. "You're not going anywhere, Jonathan. Stop trying."

"So going to kill you..."

Jacobyte straightened and walked around the table so he could see Jonathan's face. He arched an eyebrow. "What was that?"

"I said..."

"Uh-huh."

"Jackie, let me up?"

"Do you want me to let you up?" The smugness returned to Jacobyte's expression. "This is well earned revenge, I'll have you know."

"For what?!"

"How many times in the last week have you woke me up by pouring water over my head?"

"I can't see my fingers to count," Jonathan drawled. "Sorry."

"Ten."

"It's a long way to the bathroom. I was being helpful. Doting, even."

"That what you're calling it?"

"You don't like free showers?"

"Not cold and when I'm asleep."

"I'll make a note to warm the water next time."

"Jonathan, darling," said Jacobyte as he wandered back to Jonathan's legs. Out of sight. "There isn't going to be a next time..."

"What makes you so—" Jonathan's breath hitched as Jacobyte dipped a finger between his arse cheeks and traced at the hole there. "What makes you so sure?"

Jacobyte crouched. Jonathan curled his hands into fists. He heard Jacobyte spit before the small shock of it shuddered up his spine.

"What makes me so sure?"

Teasing. Light probing. Nothing substantial. Jonathan shifted back into the touch as much as he could... which wasn't a lot.

"Ah-ah," said Jacobyte, withdrawing his hands to hold Jonathan in place. "When I say."

"Is this you teaching me a lesson?"

"Something along those lines." Jacobyte teased Jonathan's arse again and he slipped his finger inside along with another gobbet of spit.

"Doesn't feel much like punishment," Jonathan commented mildly.

"Besides being tied arse up on a table, you mean?"

"Details, schmetails..."

Jonathan closed his eyes as Jacobyte added another finger.

"You know what would be punishment?"

It was a struggle to keep his voice even, but somehow Jonathan managed it. "What?"

"If I left you like this."

"Already threatened me with that one. And anyway, I know you wouldn't."

"Oh yeah?" Jacobyte probed a third finger in and grinned at the shudder that ran through Jonathan.

"Yeah." Jonathan's grin was just as audible. "I'm irresistible. You'd be back here in five minutes."

Jacobyte withdrew his fingers. Jonathan blinked his eyes open.

"Five minutes?" said Jacobyte, tone light.

Jonathan licked his lips and stared straight ahead. There was a light slap on his arse as Jacobyte headed off to the bathroom and kitchen corridor. Jonathan turned to watch him go. He could last five minutes like this, surely.

About half an hour later, Jacobyte returned to be met by a glare worthy of daggers with PMS. "Miss me?"

"Jacobyte Hasphane, if you don't—"

"If I don't what? You're not in a position to demand, sweetheart. We've proved this."

Jonathan turned his face away.

"Now, now, don't sulk..."

He heard Jacobyte cross the room. A small clink as something made of glass was set down. The pop of a bottle uncapping. Small squirting sound... A slick finger teased between his cheeks. Jonathan bit back a moan.

"See what you get if you behave?"

Jacobyte worked two fingers in, drizzling more of the hair conditioner as necessary. Being trapped in a small apartment didn't lend itself to proper supplies for situations such as this so they made do with what they had... The butter had been a mistake. Tasty, but a mistake. Jonathan pushed back against the fingers, and Jacobyte let him, this time.

Three fingers. Four. Jacobyte kissed up and down Jonathan's back as he trembled and tried to hold himself in check.

"Know what else I'm annoyed about?" murmured Jacobyte, half bent over the table himself.

"What?"

"You finished off the mega-gin. I didn't get any."

With his free hand, Jacobyte reached for the bottle he'd brought in, skimming the cool glass along Jonathan's side to make him jolt.

A gasp that was half moan. Jonathan let loose a fluent string of insults, and Jacobyte chuckled. "I never had a dog. Sorry to disappoint. But what a mental image..."

He trailed the bottle up Jonathan's hips and pressed it to the small of his back. Jonathan squeaked. Jacobyte snorted.

"Dignified, darling."

"Screw you," mumbled Jonathan.

"Later, later..."

"Did you put that thing in the fucking ice box or something?"

A small pause.

"You didn't..."

"Kind of did."

Jonathan sighed, then attempted to stifle his next squeak as Jacobyte rolled the bottle along his arse. If he could have hung his head, he'd have done it by now. As it was, Jonathan relaxed more into the table's surface, closing his eyes and letting Jacobyte... be Jacobyte.