Doctor Who, Ten/Jack, punnage of Jack's immortality and the term 'little death'
The Doctor leaned against the wall of the TARDIS, eyes dancing everywhere but Jack. "So, immortality, is it?"
"You'd know better than I would," Jack pointed out. "You have some idea of how the Time Vortex works. I'm just living with it."
"Some idea. Less than I'd like. I had to take Chronospatial Anomaly Manipulation twice," the Doctor mused. Then his eyebrows quirked up. "So, given your choices of recreation, I'd imagine your inability to 'die' might be a bit of an issue?" He smirked, a look that would have been out of place on his old face but fit this one perfectly.
"Ah, remember, I can die; I just 'come' right back." Jack smirked back, letting his tongue trail across the corner of his mouth.
Yup, he was right; the Doctor reflexively mirrored it. That was hot, there. The Doctor finally met his yes. "Does that work for le petit mort, too, or just the big one?"
"Wanna find out?" Jack tried to throw that off casually, but he was pretty sure his face was a bit flushed already.
The Doctor looked him up and down appraisingly, seeing the time-flow, he knew, not him. "All right, then," he said, catching a chair with one foot and sitting down, "show me." He folded his arms across his chest, but the smirk was still there.
Well, okay, if that was how he wanted to play it. Jack undid his belt slowly, letting the leather slither through the buckle, then peeled his denims down just enough to untuck his now-sizeable erection and take himself in hand. The Doctor's eyebrows twitched a fraction of a centimeter, but he said nothing.
Jack leaned back against the other wall, stroking himself smooth and slow. He thought about asking the Doctor if he wanted to participate in the experiment, but it had been a long time since Jack had just been watched, and he remembered enjoying it. He closed his eyes, picked up the pace a bit, and listened to the Doctor's breathing. There it was. A bit of a hitch, a little faster.
He sped up, too, working the soft spot with the edge of his thumb, slowly rolling his balls in the palm of his other hand. He opened his mouth, breathing harder, letting himself moan as the pressure built. His imagination gave him the Doctor naked easily enough; he concentrated on the image, squeezed a little harder, felt the pressure redouble in him.
He was almost caught by surprise when he came; he shouted "Doctor!" once, and then managed to convert the second to an inarticulate groan. His knees buckled, and he slid down the wall to the floor.
When he opened his eyes, the Doctor was standing over him, no hint of extra color in his face but eyes wide and dark, chest heaving. Jack grinned, and stroked himself a few more times with his now slick hand. "See?" He grinned upwards. "I've risen again."
"So you have," murmured the Doctor in an oddly husky voice, as he knelt next to Jack, their faces inches apart.
"Care to repeat the experiment?" Jack asked. The Doctor didn't reply, just leaned in and licked his ear. Jack murmured "I'll take that as a yes," and began worm the rest of the way out of his trousers.