sarkywoman: Love is the Cure (Jack/Ten) [NC-17]

[sarkywoman.livejournal.com]

Title: Love is the Cure
Author: sarkywoman
Challenge: Plague
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Set after 'Last of the Time Lords'. Not really anything for TW series 2.
Warnings: Sex, cliche, badness.
Summary: Cliched fic plot no.2, the only cure for the illness spreading through Torchwood is sex. And it has to be sex with a person of significant influence. An intergalactic booty call must be made to a certain Time Lord.
Notes: I wrote this fic of what I suspect is immensely poor quality solely to prevent the other 'Plague' plot making it to the page. I sat down and started to type a story where Jack gave the Doctor an STD and I thought 'No! I just can't do it!' And so this was born.



Love is the Cure

In Cardiff, more specifically the secret Torchwood base known as the Hub, the Torchwood team stood around in the lower levels of their workplace feeling helpless and concerned. The whole team except for Captain Jack Harkness, that is.

Gwen, Ianto, Owen and Toshiko all watched with growing anxiety as their dear leader threw himself against the clear cell wall.

“LET ME OUT!”

The focus of his violent fury was split between them and the transparent layer that separated him from the world. He kicked and punched at the wall, occasionally slamming against it with all his weight.

“He’s gonna do himself an injury,” Owen muttered, watching as their Captain raved and paced like a caged animal.

Ianto took small steps over to the cell, eventually placing his palm against the clear surface. “Jack, please. Don’t let this thing overwhelm you. I know you can handle it.”

Jack walked over to the transparent wall and put his face almost against it. He growled at Ianto threateningly. His blue eyes, normally intelligent and loving, had become predatory and cold. “Get the Doctor,” he said in a low tone.

Gwen shook her head. They’d been trying to get through to Jack’s rational mind for the better part of an hour now. “We can’t, we don’t know how to get in contact with him!”

“Bring him to me!” Jack snarled at them, banging his hands forcefully against the clear divide.

“Even if we could get in touch with him,” Toshiko said quietly to the rest of the team, “I’m not sure I’d be comfortable handing him over to Jack like this.”

What they were dealing with was some sort of alien sickness that affected the human brain in peculiar ways. It gave them a severe, debilitating craving for another being, someone who already exercised a significant amount of influence over them. Toshiko had been the first affected, contaminated by a Beltzian immigrant that was now dead from the disease. She’d developed a lust for Owen, who had done his duty without argument and contracted the virus in the process. He had in turn pounced on Gwen, necessitating a call to Rhys as she became affected then subsequent ret-conning.

The team had foolishly thought they were done with the virus. Unfortunately it turned out that the Beltzian had been contagious for approximately one hour after his death – the time period that Owen had been indisposed and Ianto had performed the medic’s duties, such as sorting out the Beltzian corpse. Ianto had struggled valiantly against his urges for almost half an hour before succumbing to his lust and tackling Jack to the floor. Jack had taken the Welshman somewhere more secluded and dealt with the symptoms in the usual manner.

It seemed that once the desire had been sated, the body was able to restore its own hormonal balance and activate the immune system to deal with the alien virus. Knowing this, the team hadn’t immediately panicked when Jack had mentioned his own contamination. For an hour he’d shown no symptoms on the surface and Gwen had suggested he might actually be immune. After that hour though, Jack began to get restless and fidgety. Ianto had offered his assistance in dealing with the symptoms so that Jack could focus his efforts on finding a non-sexual cure, but Jack had refused. Apparently his need was not for Ianto. Jack had struggled on for almost another hour before demanding they lock him in a cell before he could become completely unmanageable.

He’d marched down into the lower levels and gone and sat in one of the cells, telling his alarmed team to lock him in and not to let him out, no matter what he said. Once the door was sealed and he was trapped in there, he surrendered to the need overwhelming his mind and began to behave like a snared beast. They’d managed to find out who he was craving at least – his ever-elusive Doctor. There was no reason to believe the man was even on this planet though, how were they supposed to find him?

Jack was crouched on the floor now, shivering like an addict in withdrawal. “Want my Doctor…” he groaned pitifully.

“Well we can’t find him!” Owen yelled, frustrated.

With an angry roar, Jack launched himself at them again. If it weren’t for the strong cell door, he’d probably have torn them all apart by now. Gwen could see why he’d locked himself away. He’d struggled against the virus as long as he could, but it had completely swamped all rational thought now. He barely recognised his team, just desperate to get out and find the man his body demanded.

“Let me out! I order you to let me out, you fucking minions!” Jack continued to scream abuse at them, while bashing at the cell wall. It wouldn’t break, that cell could hold twenty weevils.

“That’s it,” Ianto said in the tone of someone who’d seen enough, “I’m calling the emergency number.” He headed up the stairs.

Gwen ran up after him. “What emergency number?”

Ianto went to his desk and opened the bottom drawer. “After I told him how much he’d scared us running off like he did that time, he gave me a number. He said if we’re ever really worried about him, in any circumstances, he had a friend with very useful contacts who would help him out with the worst things imaginable.” Ianto, like Gwen, seemed determined to ignore the sounds of Jack’s rabid distress downstairs.

“Do you think it’s his Doctor?” Gwen asked as Ianto pulled out a file labelled ‘JS’. She frowned. “JS?”

“It’s a complicated filing system of my own concoction,” Ianto said while flicking through the file. “I’ll explain it someday when we aren’t saving Jack’s mind.” He stopped at a page. “There. I don’t have any information about this person, but…”

“We’ve got no choice,” Gwen said sadly.

Ianto nodded and picked up his phone, dialling the number. “Hello? Is this number…” he reeled off the phone number he’d just called. “…Good. I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time… No, I’m not selling something, I’m from Torchwood… Yes, that’s right, I’m a member of Jack’s team… That’s why I called actually, Miss…” he waited for an response. “…Miss Jones. Jack is very ill and we’re extremely concerned. He gave me this number a while ago with instructions to contact you if circumstances ever required it. Does that make sense to you? He told me you might have contacts that could help…” A relieved expression appeared on Ianto’s face. “That is good news. Could you call by the Hub so we can discuss things in greater detail? I can give directions… Oh. Well, if you already know where it is, we’ll see you shortly. Thank you again.” He hung up the phone.

“You have a lovely telephone manner,” Gwen said. “What did she say? Who was she?”

“Her name’s Martha Jones. She didn’t give many specifics about her relationship with Jack, what with time being of the essence. She just mentioned being a friend of Jack’s and knowing another mutual friend who may be of assistance. She said she’ll call him and head over as soon as she can get hold of him.”

“But you didn’t tell her what the problem was,” Gwen said worriedly, “what if they aren’t prepared to deal with it?”

Toshiko joined them on the main floor. “I couldn’t stay down there with him any longer. He’s acting feral. I can’t believe it’s our Jack.”

“Help should be on its way,” Ianto reassured her.

At that moment, a strange noise echoed around the Hub. Then there was silence. Even Jack was quiet, his angry yelling and desperate pleading no longer reaching their ears. The lift began to descend and the three Torchwood members put their hands on their guns, just in case.

Making their merry descent into the Hub was an attractive black woman and a skinny man in a pinstripe suit, who beamed at the team. “Torchwood?”

“Yes sir, and you are?”

“Not telling, you might shoot me.” He didn’t explain or give them the opportunity to ask, just kept on talking. “Where’s Jackie boy then and what’s he gotten himself into this time?”

Ianto gave a quick version of the story, trying not to blush awkwardly when he had to mention his own frantic affair with Jack. This whole incident was embarrassing enough already, without having to share it with a complete stranger. But these two people might be able to save Jack. No amount of embarrassment was too much for that.

The man’s face grew more serious throughout the telling. He didn’t even let Ianto finish before putting his hand up to silence him. “I’ve heard enough. Jack’s displaying the Beltzian viral symptoms.” He shrugged. “So sleep with him. I’m too busy for this.” He turned to leave, but Ianto grabbed his arm.

“He doesn’t want any of us. We don’t, uh, scratch the itch. We’re not even sure if we can contact the man he’s after.”

“Who’s Jack after?” Martha asked. They had yet to find out the man’s name.

“The Doctor,” Gwen answered. “We think it’s an alien, an old enemy of Torchwood who has some history with Jack. If we can just find him and explain the situation, he might help. But he could be anyone, anywhere.”

Martha looked at her male companion, who sighed dramatically. “Alright, let’s have a look at him.”

Ianto, Gwen and Toshiko went down the stairs ahead of the newcomers, showing the way. Owen was leaning on the opposite wall, watching Jack with a grim expression on his face. He looked up at the new arrivals. “Who are they?”

Jack jumped to his feet and pressed against the clear wall. His gaze was on the male stranger, his blue eyes staring unwaveringly. The Captain licked his lips. “Doctor…”

The Doctor wandered over to the cell, ignoring the surprised stares of the Torchwood team. “Hello Jack.” He put his palm against the transparent surface where Jack’s pressed from the other side. “How are you holding up?”

Jack looked as though he was considering the question for a moment, but he got side-tracked as his eyes raked over the Doctor’s body. Ianto and Gwen tried not to feel jealous that such a desperately wanton stare had never been turned on either of them.

“Jack. Look at me.” Jack obeyed instantly, dragging his gaze back up to the Doctor’s face. The man pulled out a metallic cylinder with a blue light on the end and shone it into Jack’s eyes as though he was an optician. He tutted and turned to the team. “How long has he been affected?”

“About three hours?” Gwen estimated.

The Doctor’s eyes widened with concern. “Three hours?!? It should have killed him by now.”

“Sometimes he doesn’t die though,” Owen piped up from the corner. “Sometimes he dies and comes back, sometimes he just doesn’t die.”

“That’s true,” the Doctor mumbled absently, sucking gently on the end of the sonic screwdriver. Jack watched the simple act without blinking or breathing.

“Doctor…” he whined pleadingly.

“You should have called hours ago,” the Doctor said to the team, his voice angry. “The virus is in its later stages, eroding his capability for rational thought.”

“If we’d known, we’d have called you,” Gwen said tetchily. “But that’s not important now. The question is, can you fix it?”

The Doctor sighed and put his sonic device into his coat pocket. “Oh, I suppose so. It’s going to be hard work though.” He stared off into the distance unhappily. “I’m going to be sore…”

“You mean you’re just gonna treat the symptoms like we did?” Owen asked. “But because it’s you, it’ll work?”

“Yep. I’m the one linked to the sexual overload, I’m the one who has to take the pain, as it were.”

“We really feel for you,” Ianto muttered sarcastically.

“But what’s going to stop you catching the virus?” Toshiko asked, ever the enquiring mind.

“Oh, I’m just brilliant,” the Doctor said evasively. He turned to the team, ignoring Jack’s constant attempts to reach him through the small air holes in the clear wall. “Don’t suppose there’s a comfy room anywhere around this place?”

“Jack’s bedroom is accessed through a hole in the floor of his office,” Ianto said. “That’s the one up the steps on the left as you came in.”

“Okay, that’s a bit odd, but useful.” The Doctor clapped his hands together. “Two minutes after I’ve gone up the stairs, let him out.”

“What?!?” Everyone asked together.

Gwen was the first to voice a more coherent objection. “He’s like an animal at the moment, he could do anything!”

“He’s an animal with a one-track mind,” the Doctor said. “He won’t hurt you, I’m sure of it.” He turned to Jack and got up close to the clear wall. “Jack?” he asked softly.

“Yeah?” Jack was shaking, most likely from being so close to something he needed so badly, but still being deprived.

“I’m going to your bedroom to lay in your bed. Understand?”

Jack nodded with a shell-shocked stare, like he thought he might be dreaming. The Doctor ran up to the top of the stairs. “Remember, two minutes!”

“And counting,” Ianto said, starting his stopwatch.

“What the hell does he think he’s doing?” Owen asked.

“Laying himself down as a sacrifice for the greater good,” Martha said with a sigh. “I swear he’s not happy unless saving the day costs him.”

Jack was scrabbling at the door as though he could scratch it open. “Doctor!”

In the next two minutes Jack swore at them in various languages, some definitely alien in origin. “Let me have him! I need him! Please! Doctor!”

When the two minutes were up, the team stood well back. Ianto edged forward and tapped in the security code on the keypad outside the cell. The door slid open and Jack knocked him over in his haste to get up the stairs.

Gwen helped a disgruntled Ianto to his feet. “What do we do now?”

Martha shrugged. “We wait and hope the Doctor’s as good a lay as he seems to think he is.”

*

The Doctor found Jack’s bedroom without trouble. It was a dark hole in the ground, ill-fitting someone of the Captain’s cheery disposition. He shed his clothes before he could talk himself out of this. Jack needed this and the Doctor had denied it him for so long with no real reason. It meant more to Jack than it did to him anyway, so why not indulge the Captain?

Plus, there was the added incentive that Jack could permanently lose his mind if not sated.

When Jack jumped down into the bedroom, the Doctor was already lying provocatively on the bed. “Hello Jack.”

Jack stared at him. Now that the object of his desire was within reach, he hesitated to reach out and take it. For all of five seconds. Then he rushed forward and pinned the Doctor to the bed.

“My Doctor.”

The Time Lord forced himself not to struggle under the uncomfortable weight. “That’s right Jack, your Doctor. Now let’s get these clothes off you and get this over with.”

Jack watched the Doctor’s dextrous fingers make swift work of the buttons on his shirt. The Doctor pushed him onto his back and straddled the Captain so he could easily unfasten his trousers. Jack’s cock sprung free, already so hard he was throbbing against the Doctor’s thigh. The Doctor started stroking gently. “Oh, you poor thing,” he said sadly, his sympathy aroused by seeing Jack so helpless at his touch.

The immortal thrust up into his hand with abandon. “Doctor, I need…” He reached out towards his Time Lord. “I need you. Please.”

The Doctor nodded and went into Jack’s bedside drawer for the lubricant that he’d known he’d find there. It was an absolute necessity – Jack was desperate to claim his Doctor’s body and the Doctor had never in this regeneration been stretched that way. He liberally rubbed it over Jack’s cock, making the man moan and arch his hips up. Then he put some on his fingers with the intention of preparing himself. But Jack grabbed his wrist. “You don’t…” he looked over the Doctor’s nude body again, distracted from his sentence. “Fuck…”

“What is it, Jack?” In this state the man’s thoughts would be lucky to be verbalised at all. Coherent sentences were probably too much to hope for.

“You don’t have to do this,” Jack said, each word clearly enunciated and drawn out, as though a lot of thought had gone into the construction of the sentence.

“Of course I do,” the Doctor replied, though Jack’s consideration of his feelings in even these circumstances was heart-warming. He trailed a hand down Jack’s chest to the taut skin of his abdomen, which quivered beneath his fingers as though it was ambivalent about the Doctor’s touch. “You’re shaking, see? You need this. It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

But Jack pushed himself away, scrambling to the top of the bed. “No. No, no, no. I’m not gonna, I won’t make you. No.” He curled up in the corner, where the bed fit snugly into the junction of the wall, and buried his head in his hands. “Just find another way. Should have left me in the fucking cell.”

The Doctor frowned, more annoyed than anything. They didn’t have time for this. The virus would be eating away at Jack’s brain before long and who knew how much damage would be reversed by the process that made him immortal? Eternal life was bad enough without being brain-dead for the duration. The Doctor refused to allow such a grim fate for his friend. Jack would just have to do what he’d wanted to do for over a hundred years. It was hardly a terrible cure.

“Jack…” He got onto his hands and knees and crawled seductively up to the man, making sure to sway his hips. This seduction lark wasn’t that tough, judging by the look in Jack’s eyes.

“Please don’t,” the Captain whispered as if in pain. “I can’t resist you.”

The Doctor was almost in his lap now. He leaned in so their lips were almost touching and said, “so don’t.”

Jack cried symmetrical tears, one down each smooth cheek. “No! Please! I’m so close to breaking Doc, and I’m going to end up hurting you and doing things you don’t want and I can’t! I won’t! Leave me, get in the Tardis and don’t come back!”

The Doctor brushed a tear from Jack’s face, which proved too much stimulation for the immortal to bear with good grace. The Doctor was shoved off of the bed and he tumbled to the floor, where he lay sprawled out for a moment. “Ow.”

“See? I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” Jack continued saying it to himself as he stared at the Doctor’s prone and naked body, as though the mantra was the only thing keeping him from pouncing on the man he loved.

The Doctor sighed and climbed back onto the bed. “You have to, Jack. It’s the only way to cure you.”

“…I can’t, I can’t, not worth it, I can’t, I can’t…” Jack wouldn’t even look at him now. Oh well, time to play dirty.

The Time Lord settled himself comfortably on the bed, facing Jack. He spread his legs slightly and reached down between his legs, taking his cock in one hand as though it was something he often did. He started to stroke himself, surprised at how nice it felt after such a long time abstaining from carnal pleasures. The embarrassment at putting himself on show like this was fading as his body responded to touches it hadn’t experienced for lifetimes.

The Doctor risked glancing up at Jack. The Captain was watching avidly and the tip of his cock shined with pre-come. Every time the Doctor thrust his hips a little off of the bed, Jack would sigh or moan or lick his lips. Ensnared by the vision of sexuality before him.

The Doctor reached out for the discarded lube and started to prepare himself slowly. It hurt, but it wasn’t impossible to get himself wide enough for three fingers. Of course, by the time he’d managed that he was almost coming from his masturbation and he had to stop. He threw his arms up above his head and shot Jack the most submissive look he could manage. “Jack,” he murmured sultrily, “help me come…”

For a moment, the Doctor could have sworn he saw coherent intelligence in Jack’s eyes and a look of despairing defeat. But then the man was on top of him, pinning him down and just taking.

It hurt, but not as much as he’d feared (not that he’d ever admit to the fear). There was some pleasure in it, and after his own touches earlier he really only needed a little more stimulation to reach orgasm (he’d forgotten how it felt, that rush of bliss). The Captain didn’t even pause, just continued pounding firmly into the body that had been offered to him in sacrifice. The Doctor tried to meet the thrusts, but found himself unable to keep up and just let Jack use him as he wanted. It wasn’t a chore, to lay back, be shagged stupid and showered with kisses.

“I love you so much, I’m so sorry…” Jack said frantically into his ear between demanding and possessive kisses. “I love you, I love you…”

“Sssh,” the Doctor lifted Jack’s face to his and kissed him deeply. Jack stilled and with a few jerks of his hips, spilled his come into the Time Lord’s welcoming body.

As soon as he had his breath back, the Captain was pulling out and away, almost falling from the bed in his haste. “Oh god…”

“Jack?” The Doctor moved to his side and put a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong? Tell me.”

Jack didn’t look at him. “Isn’t it obvious? I coerced you into having sex with me. Stupid fucking virus…” He gasped with some sudden realisation and immediately grabbed the Doctor’s shoulders, startling the Time Lord. “Now you’ve got it!”

“Nah,” the Doctor replied casually, gratified by Jack’s concern. “I’m immune to this sort of thing.”

“Oh.” Jack released him and sagged again. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It wasn’t that bad. I didn’t have anything better to do today. Well,” he ruffled his hair, “it’s been a while since I watched a double supernova, so I was planning to take one in, but I can go tomorrow. This was slightly more important.”

“I knew it’d be you I needed,” Jack said, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. “But I thought I’d be able to find a cure. I didn’t think they’d have to get you involved and you’d have to…” he gestured between their bodies.

“Nobody made me do anything,” the Doctor said. “I chose to help you. I’m sure within an hour I could have concocted a different cure, but in that hour the virus would have been destroying your mind. I chose to save you the quick way. Next time, call me the second you all get wind of the Beltzian Virus.”

“I hope there isn’t a next time,” Jack said, thinking of the social damage the disease had caused in his team. He’d have to deal with that fall-out soon.

“There will be, I’m afraid, though I probably shouldn’t say that.” The Doctor patted Jack’s hand. “You alright?”

“I guess,” Jack answered, finally meeting the Doctor’s eyes. “I just never thought I’d get you this way.”

“You thought you’d get me somehow though?” the Doctor asked, amused at the confidence.

“Of course,” Jack said with a grin. “I’m irresistible to ninety-five percent of all species. I think that’s the tally I’ve got so far.” He sobered. “But I’d always hoped you’d do it out of affection rather than obligation.”

The Doctor smiled gently at his Captain. “I did this because I felt obliged to save you, it’s true. But I only felt that obligation because I care about you. Anyone else probably would have received the prolonged, researched cure.” He frowned. “I should probably cook up something like that for next time.”

“I still can’t believe it just happened,” Jack said with a sad smile.

“Not worth the wait, I suppose?” The Doctor asked, not really wanting the answer. He knew he was no Casanova and his performance probably wasn’t up to Jack’s usual standard. Maybe the immortal would finally let it go now.

“I can’t really decide that,” Jack said, shifting closer to the Time Lord. “I was half-delirious with illness, after all. Maybe a repeat performance is in order?”

The Doctor batted the straying hands away. “You’re insatiable,” he muttered fondly.

“When it comes to you,” Jack said softly, the mood shifting beneath them again. The immortal leant in and the Doctor allowed him another kiss.

“I really ought to get going now,” the Doctor murmured. This was getting too serious, too emotional. He’d always known how Jack felt about him. He wasn’t about to let himself feel the same way.

Jack tutted with good humour. “I don’t know, you take advantage of an ill man then run off across time and space. I should sell my story to one of those gossip magazines – ‘Alien had sex with my sick body’. I bet that’d sell.”

The Doctor laughed. “What, the story or your body?”

Jack feigned offence and laid back on the bed as the Doctor dressed.

“Aren’t you going to see me off?” the Doctor asked when he was fully clothed and Jack was still lying naked on the bed.

“Nah, I’m just gonna…lay here for a bit.” Jack’s smile was almost convincing. The Doctor pretended to believe it.

“Alright then, I’ll find Martha and we’ll let ourselves out. Take care, Jack.”

“You too.”

And on that friendly but non-committed note, they went their separate ways.

It was a week before Ianto could convince Jack to let him change the sheets.