Title: Just The Two Of Us
By: timber-z
Rating: NC17
Characters or pairings: Captain Jack Harkness/Dr James Wilson
Spoilers/Warnings: Set at the end of the Tritter debacle, and Season 3 of New-Who
Brief summary: Two lonely people, each upset by the Doctor in their lives, meet in a bar.

It was a filthy Friday night, during a miserable November, after a shitty week at work, and James Wilson was sitting in a bar, far away from the hospital, a cab-ride away from his hotel, arguing with himself.

Don't think about it, just let it go. Then what should we think about? Work? Can we think about giving the parents of a 7 year old child the news that their son has leukaemia? Can we replay the look on their faces as their worlds fall apart and all they want to do is shoot the goddamn messenger? What a great cliché! Should be good for a few laughs.

Mrs Carmichael seems to be responding well to her new course.

Yes, she is, it's going well. And of course that is when his mind drifted off, or at least drifted back to the one thing he couldn't bear thinking about.

Don't think about the sacrifices, you would have made them anyway. That, at least, he could accept. It didn't bother him as much as the other voices nagging at his brain.

Don't think of the mistakes you made. He could do that too - he might have changed the outcomes, but he would never doubt his own intentions. Sometimes, in his crazy, messed up life, black was white and the rules of engagement were in a constant state of flux. It was no wonder he sometimes moved to the wrong square.

Don't think about the fact that you haven't got a single person on this planet to talk to. That's the one that stung. The sacrifices were barely noticed before being forgotten. Likewise the mistakes; they were forgiven and also forgotten. Forgotten, Wilson repeated to himself as he picked up his Budweiser. He drained the rest of it and motioned to the bartender for another, knowing that it would be his third, too indifferent to care.

Pathetic, aren't you? Attacking and defending yourself simply because you have no one else to talk to.

That pretty much summed it up and he desperately wanted that voice to go away. He was in the sort of mood where he could drink all night and still not get drunk. If he didn't get drunk, he couldn't get numb. It was going to be a long weekend.

"Buy you a drink?"

After spending so long listening to his internal monologue, Wilson wasn't prepared for someone to address him directly.

The voice returned, a bit louder this time, "Excuse me?" Wilson decided to deal with humanity again, and was immediately glad he had when he turned to speak to the stranger next to him at the bar. Good-looking. That was Wilson's first thought. It wasn't even a sexual reaction, just a fact. The man addressing him was good looking. The eyes were soft and grey in the barlight, but with a slight edge that hinted at seeing too much of the wrong thing. A strong jaw and high cheekbones, his face accentuated by the wet strands of hair that clung to his forehead. Suddenly aware he was staring at the stranger who was now grinning slightly; Wilson shook his head and cleared his throat, "Uh, no thank you." He picked up his bottle, waving it slightly to illustrate, "I just got one."

"Ah well, mind if I join you anyway?" The man dropped his black rucksack on the floor between them and shrugged off his long coat before taking the stool next to Wilson’s. He hadn’t bothered waiting for an answer.

"Sure, why not?" Wilson said, nonchalantly.

The man broke into a broad, cocky grin and held out his hand, "I'm Captain Jack Harkness and who might you be?" Wilson gripped the offered hand, wrapping his fingers around the other man's knuckles, "James Wilson."

His hand still in Wilson's grip, Jack placed his other one on top of Wilson's and shook them up and down. "Pleased to meet you." They finally let go and Jack reclined sideways in his seat to get a better look. "So, what do you do, James Wilson?"

"I'm an oncologist."

Before Wilson could even question what sort of a 'Captain' his new companion was, he was interrupted. Typical.

"Oh! So that's Dr James Wilson." Wilson may have been out of the social loop for a while, but if he didn't know better, he'd think he was being hit on. Jack Harkness was staring at him, a confident smile on his face. He hadn't been on the prowl in ages, but this was the kind of bar where could expect to be hit on. Usually by a female. Not that it mattered; especially after a day like today.

"Not tonight I’m not."

Jack Harkness hunched over the bar, fiddling with the coaster, "That's good" he said, his demeanour becoming slightly morose. "I've kinda gone off doctors lately."

Wilson laughed bitterly, "Me too," he said.

A distant silence lingered. Jack broke it, asking brightly, "So, do you live around here, Dr Wilson?"

"Just Wilson, and no. I'm…between places at the moment. I've recently split up with someone so I'm staying at the Ramada Hotel. For a while."

Wilson sighed. He was babbling. Again.

Captain Jack didn’t appear to have noticed. He just cheerfully said, "Oh Hey! That's where I'm staying too! I'm just in town for the weekend then I have to go back to Europe. What a great coincidence." Jack raised his drink and smiled broadly.

If Wilson had been honest with himself, he would have considered the plausibility of the situation: What were the chances of two guests in the same hotel meeting in a bar that was nowhere near it? If Wilson had no reason to be in this part of town, he couldn't think of one as to why Captain Jack Harkness would be. Instead of addressing that concern (which he was rapidly becoming less and less inclined to be concerned about), he smiled and asked, "Europe? What, all of it?"

Jack shook his head, still smiling, "No, not all of it. A little place called Wales. You might have heard of it?"

Wilson raised his eyebrows in surprise, "Wales? How on earth did you end up there?"

"Through work. I've been around, but somehow I ended up in Cardiff. It's a great place, you should visit sometime," he said as he brought his glass to his lips, never once taking his eyes off of Wilson.

Oh yes, Wilson smiled to himself, laughing at the voice in his head, the one he hadn't heard for a very long time, You're definitely being hit on! Then he caught sight of himself in the mirror behind the bar and another voice said, But I can’t think why.

"Maybe I will," he said simply. Jack grinned happily, as though it were the best news he'd heard all day.

Wilson sensed that beneath the smooth façade, there was an unhappy mess. It was just a hunch, but he was usually correct about these things. You don't give people devastating news on a daily basis and not learn every reaction to trauma, no matter how subtle.

Wilson's train of thought was broken by Jack waving over the bartender before asking, "Are you ready for that drink now?"

**

Jack paid the taxi-driver and let Wilson lead the way to his room. As they walked past the reception desk, Jack winked at the girl on night-duty, making her blush and start shuffling her papers. He couldn't help himself, and besides he liked to keep his options open, although he was pretty sure about where this night was heading. Wilson was clearly a man in need, even if he didn't know what it was that he needed. Jack would be more than happy to show him.
He started by dropping a bit of his own smugness when they were alone in the elevator

"I hope you don’t mind me saying this, Dr Wilson, but in the bar earlier, you seemed quite sad."

If Wilson's face fell it recovered just as quickly, and he said defensively, "Well, if you don't mind me saying Captain Harkness…"

"Just Jack,"

"…You seemed more than a little down. Are you sure you're not just projecting that onto me?"
Jack shuffled on his heels. He hated being busted. He especially hated being busted by a great looking guy he was trying to lay.

It took him just a few seconds of embarrassment to realise that was exactly this guy he needed. To be busted without any recriminations. Luckily for Jack, Wilson took the lead by continuing his spiel, "Is there anything I can do?"

Jack looked up to see Wilson staring at him earnestly, all other thoughts other than compassion forgotten. He clearly wanted to help, and already seemed to know there was only one thing he could do.

Jack laughed and Wilson's eyes met his. "Oh, don't tempt me," Jack said as the elevator doors opened and Wilson froze.

"I'm sorry!" Jack called after Wilson who had suddenly walked out of the elevator, quickly down the corridor to his room. Sensing Wilson's sudden freak out and assuming it was at his last comment.

"You know how it goes sometimes?" Jack continued, trying to relax the other man, "You're a doctor. Don't you ever get that feeling like you've got the weight of the universe on your shoulders? Human condition. Everyone feels it, just not at the same time. Well right now, it's me."

"Yes, I know exactly what you mean." Wilson nodded as though he knew all too well. "The world on your shoulders." He seemed to lose focus, talking to space, "The world's six feet tall and standing on your shoulders. It treats you like dirt, ignores you except for times of boredom and crisis, and even when you want to get away, when you do get away, and you're on your own…"
By now they had reached Wilson's room and he was fumbling with the key, just as he said, "It's still there, in your head, analyzing and mocking your every move. Why am I telling you this, I don't even know you?"

Jack, who until then had been a sympathetic listener, walked into the room and pushed Wilson up against the now closing door.

"You're telling me because I'm listening. And no one should mock this move."

Wilson didn't seem all that surprised when Jack kissed him. Why should he have been? Jack hadn't bothered disguising his flirtation and Wilson certainly hadn't discouraged it. And pushing him against the door was a bit of a give-away. Jack sensed that Wilson was only shocked by his own reactions. The man must be completely out of touch with his own longings and despair. Jack could already tell that Wilson's body was in the game, even if his brain was still trying make sense of what was happening. He kept the kiss going, from the first tentative brushing of their lips, into a full-fledge meeting of mouths and tongues and teeth, until he knew that Wilson was ready to listen to what his body was telling him, presumably one word: 'More'.

Jack's hands moved simultaneously; one tilting Wilson's chin up to meet his lips, the other spread just over Wilson's left shoulder, keeping him pinned up against the door.

For a second he thought he might have misjudged. He could still sense resistance, fear. What ever haunted Dr. James Wilson was a strong force indeed, apparently able to withstand even Jack's charms and lips. He was almost ready to sound retreat and give the front desk girl the night of her life until Wilson surprised him by responding with another kiss, bringing Jack closer to him with an intensity that took them both by surprise, crushing their chests together, forcing them to breath deeply through their noses while mouths were otherwise occupied.

"I'm sorry!" Wilson gasped, pushing Jack away. "I haven't been kissed for a while."

Jack kept his distance, ready for whatever pain this James Wilson had to share with him. "That's a crime! What happened to the last person you kissed?"
Wilson stepped away and went to the desk. "She died," he said almost too casually, pouring out two shots from a half-empty bottle of Bourbon that spoke to the sadness of his life in this room.

"Well, now I'm sorry." Jack answered, meaning it more than Wilson would ever know.

"It's ok." Wilson held up a glass, forcing Jack to cover the distance, "It happens."
Jack took the drink, draining it in one gulp.

"Usually," he said softly, before putting the glass down and grabbing James Wilson by either side of his face and dragging him to the bed.

He could hear Wilson gasp as the air was knocked out of him, imagine the tingling in his scalp. The eloquent doctor was reduced to a few mutterings of who? what? as Jack landed on top of him and ground their hips together while crushing the air out of his lungs with a bruising kiss. It didn't take long to get James' tie tossed over the chair and, his shirt undone.

Jack couldn't wait much longer. "Please Dr Wilson…"

"It's James! Call me James," The urgency in his voice spurred on Jack's own urgency.,

"James, "Jack whispered as he reached down to their belt buckles, "Please…"

Now it was Jack's turn to be stripped, his coat on the floor, braces slid off to hang around his waist, shirt and pants undone, everything eventually off to allow his cock free to rest on James' until they settled for a second, laying silently together and breathing in each other's faces, the calm before the storm.

"Are you afraid?" Jack whispered., making sure, before he let this go any further.

Apparently not, as Wilson grabbed Jack, helping him shrug fully out of the shirt. He kissed each shoulder before looking up and replying, "No,"
Then he and Jack started moving together, up and down, back and forth.

**

"Jesus!" Exclaimed Jack as he rolled off Wilson, "Man," he panted, "that was... good." He laughed as he sensed Wilson tense up, so he turned back, "I don't use good lightly."

Wilson smiled sleepily and reached for his shirt to clean them both up. "Good is...good. Maybe I'm too tired to read more into it."

"You don't need to read anything, I meant it, and I'll see you tomorrow." Jack made himself more comfortable, fluffing up his pillow and drawing the comforter over their chests.

Wilson yawned and asked, "Are you going back to your own room?"
Jack felt a moment of guilt, but laughed when he saw the raised eyebrow and smirk on Wilson's face. "What my imaginary room? Nah, I think I'll stay here, 'Night James." Jack reached around the other man's waist to pull him closer and burrowed his neck between the mattress and a warm shoulder.

**

Once awake, Jack found it hard to get back to sleep. He sat at the end of the bed and watched the man that had been sharing it with him. Jack smiled fondly at the way James' half-open mouth was pressed against the pillow, the slightly swollen lower lip that expelled breath quietly in time with his chest which was moving ever so slightly up and down against the mattress. The sheets were bunched around his waist and the blanket lay on the floor. One of James' legs was sticking out, so Jack hooked his fingers around the ankle, circulating his thumb in gentle circles.

Over the past hour, Jack had realized that this weekend wasn't just about him. It was about someone helping him, and vice versa, for no matter for how short a time. But, most of all it was about something beyond Torchwood, something beyond time, beyond stupid aliens, - something in this hotel room was beyond everything.

"Maybe," he leaned down to whisper into James' ear, "It's just about you and me, for once."
James's eyes slowly opened and he looked at Jack in sleepy confusion as he continued, "Imagine, this weekend, just you and, me. None of your life, none of mine."

Jack was almost desperate, stroking and grabbing at James' skin as if to prove that he was there.

James rolled over onto his back, encircling Jack's waist with his arms, pulling Jack back on top of him. Skin against skin. Mouth to mouth. He felt James mouth opening to him as their cocks rubbed together, causing them both to groan deeply into each other's mouths, their teeth clashing together.

Jack broke away first, leaning off the bed to reach down to his rucksack. He pulled out a tube of lube and a condom and made sure James could see what they were. James barely nodded. His face would have been a model of impassivity if not for the sudden flare of passion in his eyes. Jack lay the items next to the pillow and grabbed James' face, "You and me, James," he said, desperately kissing him again, pushing him down into the mattress.

Jack's lips worked their way down the jaw line and over James' throat, licking along the clavicle, trailing a path to a nipple causing a low groan. He tore himself away from the other man's body to sit up and put on the condom. James immediately positioned himself behind him and began kissing the back of his neck, With shaking hands, the protection was eventually secured. Jack reached for the lube to slick up his fingers, continually distracted by the press of the other man's body against his back, biting and licking his neck and shoulders, hands sliding over Jack's chest.

Jack turned suddenly, shoving James roughly on his back. James proceeded to make himself tantalizingly available for Jack to place his fingers between his legs and slid one slowly up his ass. He added another and then gently raised his fingers higher. After he'd give James time to adjust, he twisted them further, making James cry out.

Jack moved his fingers in time to his words as he begged, "Please, James, tell me this weekend is just you and me, I have to be honest - we will never meet again." He gasped as James nodded and writhed against his fingers, "I have secrets, but I don't want to lie to you. Tell me I can have this time, it's all I need from you."

James was gasping, incoherent as Jack continued, moving his fingers all the time, "Please, tell me." Jack pleaded as he paused to spread some lube over his cock, "Please?" he implored again as he placed his fingers back up into position, making the other man unconsciously arch up saying "Yes, yes, yes" like a mantra.

"Thank you," Jack quietly whispered as he slid into James' compliant body.

Jack groaned into James's shoulder and started pumping his hips, desperate to let himself go, but also aware that it had maybe been a while since his partner had been in this situation. However, to his delight, James spread his legs harder, wider until the best way was for him to hook them up over Jack's hips, moving his lower body in time with Jack's movements. Jack began thrusting in and out as James leaned against him and whispered words of encouragement in his ear as he bit the lobe, or his neck as he licked it, words mostly consisting of 'yes', 'oh', 'unnff', 'Jack.'

Finally there were just the sounds of two people muttering incoherent murmurs of appreciation that only they could hear and then the both shouted out, before the only sound that remained was the harsh pants that slowly quieted as they briefly caught each other in an exhausted kiss before laying together, catching their breath, allowing their vision to clear.

Jack was the first to react, "Jesus, I haven't got laid like that since that time I had sex with myself."

"What?"

Jack lay supine on the bed, his hand flung over his eyes, and chuckled, "Nothing, I was joking, don't worry about it."

**

Wilson wondered how long they could just lie there, somewhere between asleep and awake, half listening to the footsteps of the other guests walking up and down the corridor, the songs of the birds outside the window. Eventually, biology made the decision and he sat up throwing his arms out and stretching his back. He figured that his movements might have woken Jack as well, and he might be watching as he walked to the bathroom, listening as he showered.

He came back out with his hair damp and a towel around his waist. It seemed that Jack had given in to sleep again. Wilson wanted to be a good host, so he attempted to be quiet as he went about gathering clean clothes.

"Breakfast?"

He turned to see Jack leaning against the wooden headboard, one hand over his head, the other flung across his bare stomach. The cocky smile was still there, but it was warmer, his eyes calm and peaceful. Wilson felt himself flush slightly at the memory of the night before and he froze, with his clothes in his hand. Jack motioned with his head, and a wider smile, "C'mere," he said. Wilson slid up the bed and soon had two strong arms wrapped around his back as he was kissed again, with exactly the same intensity as the night before. Jack sat up and eventually broke away from the kiss to stretch the same way Wilson had. He skimmed a thumb against Wilson's cheek.

"Give me a chance at that shower and then we can get something to eat." Jack pressed his lips against Wilson’s as he slipped out of bed and walked to the bathroom.

Finding himself alone in his room, Wilson's mind began to race. Words such as what the hell?, ridiculous and pathetic ran through his head, and he again began arguing with himself. Me and him. That's what he said and I agreed. Why can't I have this weekend?

For once, that voice won and Wilson shook his head as he walked into the bathroom.

**

Jack had his eyes closed against the pounding water as he lathered his hair. For the first time in a long while, his mind was clear. He didn't think of being abandoned for no reason, he didn't think about the wait, he didn't think about the darkness which waited for him to succumb to sleep and haunt his dreams

A change in the air, a draught, caught his skin as he was rinsing his hair and he opened his eyes just in to time to see a naked James Wilson enter the shower and drop to his knees.
Jack took half a step back but James caught his hips and gripped them tightly. He took Jack's length in his mouth and began slowly moving his head up and down. Jack's head thunked against the tiles as he breathed in deeply and tried to stop his knees from buckling.

James was alternating between slow deep-throating, and quick shallow sucking, making Jack gasp deeply as the sensation and the steam from the pounding hot-water made it hard for him to breathe. "Ah, James, uh, Yesssss" he groaned as he came, hard, in Wilson's mouth.

He wasn't sure whether James swallowed or not, he really didn't care, what he did care about was dragging the other man up to meet him, clutching his head and kissing him as well as he could between his shallow breaths. Eventually he rested his forehead on James’ and let the water cascade over them both until a duet of rumbling stomachs could be heard and they both laughed, self consciously.

"Let's have breakfast first, and then you are so getting payback for that." Jack said, knowing it was both a threat and a promise.

It was a clear morning and the sun hung low, a silver disc in a clear blue sky. Wilson and Jack sat opposite each other by the window of the hotel restaurant. Wilson couldn't help but notice that Jack had brought his bag with him, couldn’t stop himself from thinking that Jack would just eat and make an excuse to leave. He found himself stuck for conversation: He didn’t want to mention House, cancer wasn’t an ideal mealtime discussion, and it was probably bad form to talk about your three ex-wives with the guy you’d spent the last twelve hours having sex with.

Is this all I am?’

There was nothing to do but make inane chit-chat that rambled on about the area. He held forth on where to go, things to do and what sights to see as though he had somehow been appointed to the board of tourism for Princeton Township. He’d never been so glad to see the arrival of a waitress in his life. and was profoundly grateful when their meals arrived.

**

Jack watched James, feeling partly amused, which masked an undercurrent of affection. He could see James stumble for conversation, and found it both funny and sweetly sad since it was obvious the source of the man’s discomfort was himself. Whatever James was hiding from Jack, would be extremely small fry compared to the secrets Jack had. (He ignored the voice that nagged constantly in the back of his head, You know, your name, your age, the fact that you can shoot yourself in the head as a party trick.). Jack told the voice to back off while he focused on his breakfast companion and picked up something else in James’ demeanour: this awkwardness, the lack of confidence was a recent thing. He was sure, had he met Dr James Wilson a year ago, he would have been having breakfast with a completely different person, one with charm and flirtatious banter to match his own. Who knocked you down? He thought, as the waitress brought over their meals

**

They ate in silence. Wilson looked out of the window as he chewed, wondering what it would take to get back the carefree flirting of the night before. Something caught his eye, although he couldn’t quite place what it was. He often ate here alone, so he’d seen this view a hundred times before and his perception was that something had changed about it. He put his cutlery down and leaned forward, squinting slightly. to look closer. There! Just as a garbage truck parked in front of it, Wilson saw a blue box on the opposite the side of the street down from the hotel. In spite of the truck still blocking his view, Wilson tried to figure out what the heck ii might be, but decided it wasn’t worth the bother.

It sure seemed worth the bother to Jack, who jumped suddenly, his knife and fork clanging against the plate. He unzipped his bag and looked inside. A huge smile appeared on his face and he quickly zipped up his bag, mumbled a quick, ‘Excuse me,’ and ran out.

Wilson watched Jack frantically run across the street, showing absolutely no regard for his personal safety as he ignored the beeps of the cars narrowly missing him. The garbage truck moved off and Jack skidded to a halt. He stood in front and just stared at the Blue Box in front of him, Wilson could see his shoulders heaving up and down, as if he were not only catching his breath, but also steeling himself for whatever was inside.

A man and a girl came out of the box. She was a pretty brunette, dressed in a style that Wilson pegged as the 80’s, although it was possible that the decade had snuck back into fashion while he wasn’t paying attention. The man however, Wilson couldn’t even hazard a guess as to which decade he had decided to get stuck in. He stared at the blond, pale, almost fragile looking man who was dressed in beige stripy pants, a white V-neck sweater and a beige blazer, all of which were trimmed with orange. He clapped and rubbed his hands together and smiled at the girl.

All the time, Jack had remained frozen. Wilson looked on, suddenly feeling terrible for Jack as his shoulders slumped in defeat. The strange man had noticed Jack staring and said something, obviously not confrontational, but enough to make Jack raise his hand in denial and turn and walk slowly back to the hotel, still oblivious to the screeching tires and annoyed shouts of drivers.

He walked back to the table and sat down, avoiding Wilson’s concerned gaze. He picked up his knife and fork and tried to continue eating. However before he even took the first bite, he dropped them back down, and covered his face with his hands quickly before taking a deep breath and looking at Wilson. Gone was the friendliness and carefree nature, replaced by a dark desolation of embittered loneliness. Wilson thought that he was seeing the real Jack Harkness for the first time.

“It wasn’t who I thought it was,” was all he said, and gave a harsh, brief laugh before snatching up his glass and drinking the water in four angry gulps.

**

Jack put the glass down and stared off into space. He felt quite a fool, falling for false information. Well, he guessed it wasn’t really false, just errant. He was allowing the disappointment to engulf him when, Wilson broke his thoughts by gently placed one hand over his. “Hey, what happened to ‘It’s just you and me’?”

James’ hand was warm and comforting. Memories of the night before and earlier that morning flashed in Jack’s mind, The other man on his back, grinding up against him, the sound he made as he came, the taste of his throat as Jack licked and gently bit it. Jack smiled, a genuine one and he stood up, “I seem to remember something about payback.” He laughed as James swallowed heavily and looked around before getting up and leading Jack back to the room.

**

Wilson wasn’t surprised to find himself pressed up against the door again as soon as they entered the room. However, he was surprised at the tenderness Jack displayed as he kissed him. arms sliding up and down Wilson’s as if to prove that he was real and he was there. Wilson found himself with the same need.. He had to know that he was real and that he was there and this wasn’t some messed up dream where he’d wake up with the same problems, the same mocking, the same duty!

He spun them around, Jack’s head cracking against the door, but neither of them broke the kiss which became harder, teeth nipping and tongues swirling. Wilson used the full weight of his body to pin Jack against the door. His left hand gripped Jack’s hip forcefully, while his other hand pulled at Jack’s hair. “You broke your promise, Captain,” he whispered fiercely into Jack’s ear, “What happened to ‘It’s just you and me’?” He shoved a leg between Jack’s and kissed him again, “How do you think I felt when you just upped and ran? Have you ever been left behind, JACK?”

The words poured out, like all the feelings he’d been keeping in for who knew how long, at the same time as the passion Jack had provoked in him, made it impossible to stop kissing Jack, removing as much clothing as possible without breaking contact.

**

Jack’s hands reached up to cup James’ face, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones. James stopped his assault and looked away guiltily. ‘Hey’ Jack’s voice was barely a whisper and he forced himself to look into James’ eyes, surprised to see the regret and affection there. Jack ran his fingers through James’ hair and kissed him deeply, “I’m sorry James, I’m so, so sorry.” And he kissed him again, his hands running down James’ arms until he found his fingers, forcing them to interlock, squeezing tightly. James nodded, his breath slowing down to a more normal pace. Jack continued, “We’ve just got tonight, let’s not end it on a bad note.” Jack leaned forward and began nuzzling James’ neck, fingers sliding under James’ shirt, trailing over his ribs and nipples, “Meeting you this weekend,” Jack breathed into James’ skin, “Best thing that’s happened to me in a long time,” His tongue dragged along James’ neck, reaching the ear lobe.

“Me too, Jack.” James said so quietly that Jack almost didn’t hear it.

**

Jack lay naked on the bed, and waited for James to join him. He was feeling better about his earlier disappointment and had meant every word of his apology. He’d spent so long being disconnected from everyone around him, suffering the ominous feeling that he could one day be the last man on earth. His worst nightmare, utterly plausible and completely inescapable, at least until this weekend, when the enigma of Dr James Wilson had caught his interest, and the sex that followed kept it.

When James eventually came out of the bathroom, still wearing his boxers, Jack pointed at the offending garment.

“Off,” he demanded.

James smirked, in good humor this time and pointed at Jack.

“Turn over, he ordered, in reply.

Grinning into the pillow, Jack did as he was told, shivering as broad hands splayed and ran along his back, He felt the bed dip as James climbed onto the bed next to him. A single finger trailed down his spine stopping when he reached the top of his arse, only to be replaced by hands caressing his buttocks.

Next a tongue, following the same path as the finger. Jack shuddered, cock twitching in anticipation against the mattress. He felt the hands spread his cheeks apart and God no! He couldn’t be this lucky.

Jack’s head jerked up and he gasped as he felt James’ tongue poke cautiously into his hole, teeth nibbling around the outer rim. He tried to not buck as he felt the tongue go higher, lapping and sucking and Jesus! Where the hell did he learn to do that? He thought he would either die or come from the sensation when James cruelly pulled away. Jack couldn’t help the whimper that escaped, nor the smile that broke on his face when he heard James chuckle evilly, low in his chest. He wanted to turn his head to look at him when he felt a firm hand on the back of his head, pushing his face down into the pillow, “Just stay like that.” God, his voice was so deep, a low murmur that vibrated through Jack’s skin. Jack would have let him do anything, so long as he could he get James off and make him cry out in a voice like that.

He didn’t have long to wait..

As instructed, he kept his face burrowed in the pillow but angled himself slightly to the side so that he could still breath, and let himself just listen and feel as James lay across him whispering his name and biting at the back of his neck.. He heard the rip of a condom wrapper and went to reach down to touch his cock, only to have a firm hand grab his wrist and move it up above his head, He understood the message, keep his hands there and don’t move. He trusted James enough to let him take over.

**

Jack lay obediently on the bed and Wilson took a moment to inhale deeply and admire the sight in front of him, feeling like Michelangelo. The nagging doubt that he didn’t deserve this remained, but the logical, sensible side - the Doctor side – reminded him that Jack had no qualms about being exactly where he wanted to be. Jack’s compliance, his trust at leaving himself so open, convinced Wilson that this was real.

Holding his breath, he liberally applied lube then reached around and wrapped his hand around Jack’s cock. Familiar actions of course, but somehow more meaningful than he could remember in a long time.

He leant down, as Jack angled his pelvis up slightly to meet him. Wilson slowly exhaled as he slid into Jack. He heard Jack gasp out of the corner of the pillow, and felt the accompanying shudder. Wilson lingered a few seconds, giving them time to adjust. Gripping Jack’s hip with his right hand, Wilson began thrusting, slowly, at first, then harder, faster, quicker, in synch with the beat of his heart. The noises Jack was making, half-muffled by the pillow weren’t helping him take it nice and slow, nor were the way the sheets were slowly being pulled away from the corners of the bed as Jack clutched and dragged them with each thrust. It could have been minutes or seconds, savoring the sensation, and he leaned down and breathed into Jack’s ear with each push. A sudden panic seized him when he felt Jack shift and heard him say “Stop.”.

**

“James, James, stop, I need…” Jack sensed James’ panic as the movements into and behind him slowed to a halt. He felt James’ hand burning onto his hip, need and desperation radiating through his skin as he reluctantly pulled out.
His own desire notwithstanding, Jack knew he had to move quickly. “Want to see you,” he said, reaching behind to grab at any part of James he could. His groping hand eventually found a hip which he snaked around to the waist. Using his agility and James’ surprise, he wrestled them both so that Wilson was pinned to the mattress, looking up at Jack with flares of frustrated desire mixed with flashes of annoyance. Jack leant down and kissed James, slowly, as if they had all the time in the world, waiting patiently until he felt James relax, and trust him enough to show him that this wasn’t the end. Jack heard James gasp as their cocks rubbed together, so he shifted up a little and slowly lowered himself onto James.

Jack kept the pace slow, at first: Up and down, slowly, slowly: back and forth, just a little – rocking, moving, tilting, breathing. He saw the panic die in James’ eyes, felt the tension slide from their bodies, heard the soft knocking of the headboard against the wall with every shift of his thighs.
He had lived many lives, met hundreds of people, but he rarely let them leave a mark on his mind. If he remembered too much, then he would know that they were dead, imagined their decline and decay while he was still there, doomed to be fixed point in an ever-changing Universe.

Four smiles. That was all he allowed himself to recall, as vividly as when they happened, as he lay awake most nights waiting for the darkness to come. And one of those smiles was on a face that was always shifting. Thinking of smiles and looking down, as he rocked himself up and down, before gaining momentum in time with James’ gasps and clutching hands, Jack realised he had found his fifth.

**

Wilson lay on the mattress, pinned down by the man above him. Even the occasional bang of his skull against the headboard, couldn't take the grin off his face. He watched Jack grab the headboard, presumably to give himself leverage as he moved with more determination and force, looking down at Wilson's face, staring intently, as if trying to commit it to memory. Wilson felt torn between his body screaming now and his mind not wanting this to end. Finally it was the look on Jack's face, the sweat that pooled down from his temples, the way he kept whispering, "James, please" in time with his movements, that took over Wilson's body, leaving rational thought far behind.

Wilson could tell he was making it worthwhile with each agonised contortion of Jack's face, and responded with faster, harder, frantic thrusts, arching up even higher. Wilson reached out and grabbed Jack's cock to stroke it in time with his orgasm, Jack's face a cross between a snarl and a gasp of ecstasy as he came just seconds later.

**

Jack found himself sprawled against Wilson in a ridiculous arrangement of limbs, but couldn't work up the energy or inclination to move. He stroked James' hair as their breathing calmed down. He listened until he knew that James had fallen into a deep, sated sleep before allowing himself a light doze, trailing his fingers over different areas of James’ skin, occasionally pressing his lips against James’ neck. He could have stayed there forever, and cursed when he heard the thrum of his cell phone, vibrating through the pocket of his pants which had been discarded on the floor. He managed to reach down to retrieve it without disturbing the sleeping man next to him. He sighed as he flipped it open, knowing that no matter what the words were, the message would read the same: This weekend is over for you.

What it actually said was TROUBLE. RIFT BREACHED. NEED YOU. PLANE WAITING.

Tosh was always blunt and to the point, but Jack felt indifferent to the problem. The rift was so far away that he couldn’t think of it as urgent, dangerous, or anything to do with him. He looked at James, who lay face down on the bed, his arm clutching a pillow. Jack cupped the back of his head and kissed the top of James’ hair, before sighing and slipping out of bed. Duty, he thought to himself, It’s always about duty.

**
It was dark when Wilson woke up, but he had no clue what time it might be. All he knew was that he was in bed, alone. But that was ok, he knew it would end, and what was the point of saying goodbye to someone you’d only just met? Of course, he felt a pang of regret, but still he was happy to take what he could get. He jumped slightly when he felt the mattress sink as someone sat on the edge of the bed and gently rocked his shoulder. “James? Wake up.”

Opening his eyes slowly, he smiled when he saw Jack, fully dressed, looking at him with that same intensity as earlier that evening, when they made love. Still half asleep, he reached for Jack and let his hand rest on his thigh, ‘You’re leaving?’ Even though he already knew the answer. Jack’s eyes were still boring into him, taking him all in, before stroking his thumb along Wilson’s cheekbone and leaning in to kiss him.

They eventually broke, Wilson’s eyes staying closed but he made a murmur of approval. He felt Jack ease off the bed and heard him pick up his bag. Wilson let himself being pulled back to sleep. That was ok, he really didn’t need to see Jack leave, but he did need to say…

**
Jack opened the door, the light from the hallway supplied him with a pathway he reluctantly stood on.

“Thank you.“

He stopped and turned at the sound of James’ voice. Jack nodded, even though James’ eyes were shut and he was obviously falling back to sleep. The light fell onto James’ face, accentuating his cheekbones, the slight pout of his lower lip. He looked different, not so much younger, just less weary. Jack smiled, and quietly said, “ You know that world on your shoulders? He’s in love with you.” Wilson burrowed deeper into the pillows, sleeping soundly as Jack looked back one last time and shut the door. “He has to be,” he said to himself as he walked down the corridor towards the elevator.