The wind stung his eyes and cut his skin, but Jack laughed as he ran. Beside him the Doctor grinned, hair blown back and trench boat flapping.

“Come back here!” The angry shout was far behind now, and the two men slowed to a stop. By mutual agreement they ducked into a little coffee shop for warmth.

The bell above the door tinkled as they stepped inside. The shopkeeper looked up, surprised.

“So you’ll be wanting a job, then?” he asked.

Jack and the Doctor exchanged a look.

“You wouldn’t want us,” Jack snickered.

“We just –-”

“Blew up—”

“Our last job!”

It started with little things. Like his hair (it was gelled differently), and his shoes (they were so clean they shone). Jack almost didn’t notice (but he did, because he was obsessed). Not that it was any of his business, of course. If the Doctor wanted to clean up a bit, who was he to interfere? He would just stand back and admire the Time Lord from afar, as always.

After the hair and shoes came the clothes. His tie was now perpetually loose, shirt collar open. The usual three layers became one. Jack definitely noticed this time. How could he not, with that (tantalizing, smooth, oh-so-silky – or so he imagined) V of skin showing all the time? And the Doctor took off his suit jacket once. Jack swallowed. He’d woken up with a hard-on for a week after that incident. (And how pathetic was that, for him to be so desperate?)

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The Doctor sighed, started contemplatively into the depths of his closet. He thought that Jack would have done something by now. Really, did he have to walk out there naked? He paused. …Nah, he dismissed. That was a bit too obvious. He scanned the closet again. Oh. His eyebrows shot up, a wicked smirk forming on his lips. That would do nicely.

“Jack!” The Doctor bounced into the room, tie backwards, hair a mess (more so than usual, anyway), shirt half undone. “I know just the pace to go.” He grinned, wid and delighted.

“Really?” Jack replied absently, too busy staring at the Doctor’s exposed chest to truly pay attention to way the man was saying. The shadows shifted on the Time Lord’s skin as he waved an arm about, practically wriggling with excitement.

“…dress up a bit.

“What?” Jack was shaken out of his stupor as the Doctor finished talking.

“Prime-Delta 415,” the Doctor repeated impatiently. “Best place to relax in the galaxy. But first we have to change clothes, come on!” He dashed off, tie trailing behind him.

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They never made it out the TARDIS doors. The Doctor had shoved some leather in Jack’s direction, then rushed off to change himself. He’d come out in (oh-so very tight) leather pants and a half-open, loosed-tied shirt After the shock (and initial lust) had worn off, Jack had jumped him.

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“You know,” Jack said, tracing aimless patterns on the Doctor’s skin, “you could have just asked.”

“Who are you?” Ianto asked. Rather rudely, he acknowledged, but he had a right, There were Jack’s private quarters. What was a stranger doing here?

“Oh me?” said the stranger. “I’m the Doctor. Do you know where Jack is?”

“Ianto’s eyes widened, then narrowed. It was Torchwood’s imperative to capture the Doctor, but if Jack knew him…

“Jack is here?” the Doctor beamed. “Wonderful!”

And that was when Jack walked through the door, still pulling on his shirt. “What?” he yawned.

“Jack!”

Jack’s head snapped up. “Doctor?” His voice was so nakedly hopeful that it almost physically hurt.

That was when Ianto knew why Jack could never love him His heart had been taken long ago.

“You all right?” Jack asked casually. The Doctor stopped his tinkering under the TARDIS console, craning his head to look at Jack around a mess of wires.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You paused again. And then you sniffed. Again.”

The Doctor waved a hand. “It’s nothing.”

“If you say so, Doc.”

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Twitch.

The Doctor was twitching.

Twitch.

Every few second his wrist would flick.

Twitch.

The only reason Jack could tell this in their dark cell was because they were chained together.

Twitch.

 It was actually really annoying.

Twitch.

When the twitching became full out whole body shudders though, Jack began to worry. His vague annoyance turned into rather acute anxiety.

“Doctor?”

“Hm?” His voice seemed… different.

“You’re shaking.”

“Mmm.” The Doctor loosed a low, purring rumble. Jack could feel the vibrations through his back. He closed is eyes and clenched his teeth together as the Doctor buried his nose in his hair, arms coming up to wrap around the immortal man.

“What are you doing, Doc?” Jack’s voice was strained.

“You smell good,” the Doctor mumbled, breath tickling Jack’s ear. He shivered, then turned to face the Time Lord.

“Doctor, wha – mhpf.” The Doctor kissed him.

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He was twitching, the Doctor realized with a vague kind of worry. That wasn’t good. It was dark in their cell (they’d been captured because he was distracted, stupid, stupid) and the lack of sight was boosting all of his other senses. Particularly smell. He breathed in and twitched again.

That smell. It had been taunting him all day, teasing his senses, tickling his nose whenever his companion moved. Like now. He caught another whiff as Jack turned and asked him something. He was vaguely aware of making a distracted, questioning sound in response. Jack said something again, shifting, and now there was arousal too, missing with the banana scent and making Jack smell all the more enticing.

The Doctor held out for another few seconds before he breathed in again (are full of pheromones and fruit, Rassilon) and he gave in, burying his nose in Jack’s hair. It smelled good, and he voiced the thought, nuzzling hot skin. He wondered if Jack tasted as good as he smelled.

He tasted better (like bananas and salt and the Vortex) so when Jack opened his mouth in invitation the Doctor accepted. And when warm hands unbuttoned his coat he accepted that too, and even reciprocated so that soon both of them were on the floor, writhingpantinggrinding against each other.

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It was amazing, Jack though fuzzily, what a bottle of banana-flavored lotion could do.

Really, the Doctor thought, he shouldn’t be so… so possessive of the man. Flirting was a part of Jack’s nature, after all. And it wasn’t like him to get jealous either. He snuck a glance at their companion. But… He pouted, unaware of the scrutiny also aimed at himself. He was more handsome than an elf, right?

He looked again at their guide (they’d been invited to a feast after saving the planet) and took in the graceful movements, shimmering hair, ethereal features. Maybe not.

He pouted again.

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Jack watched the Doctor lick his fingers clean of juice, voice deepening as he spoke on autopilot to his companion. Of course, his autopilot was flirting, and with the deepening voice it seemed as if he was actually interested. The elf (what was her name again? Gwendolyn?) giggled, taking his arm and pulling him towards a more secluded clearing.

When the Doctor came upon them , Gwendolyn had a hand on Jack’s cheek and the other on his shoulder, just about ready to kiss him. Jack shivered at the heated look shot in their direction, standing stock still as the Doctor strode over to stand behind him.

“Excuse me,” his voice was in the light carefree tone that spelled trouble for anybody stupid enough to piss him off. “But I think you’ve got something of mine.”

The elf lowered her hands and stepped back. “Oh?” her voice was light, musical, and dangerous. “I didn’t realize. He seemed quite willing.”

“Yes, well,” the Doctor said, taking a step forwards. And that was the last Jack really heard of the conversation, because there was a brush against the back of his jeans. He swallowed hard. Did the Doctor just…? Again there was a light pressure a few inches lower than his waist. He almost moaned aloud.

Never had Jack seen the Doctor this possessive before. Especially not about him. It did something, made his breath come shorter and set fire to his nerves. So when the Time Lord caressed his hip, he shivered. And when he slid that hand around…

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Jack was his. He glared at the elf and deliberately caressed (his) Jack’s hip. She was not going to seduce Jack away from him if he could help it. The thought was so… so infuriating that the Doctor unconsciously squeezed firm, denim-covered flesh. He didn’t actually notice what he had done until Jack moaned (loudly, Jack was always loud) and leaned heavily against him. That was when he noticed where his hand was.

Oh. He snatched it back, blushing furiously. This regeneration was bold, wasn’t it, to go and do that. Well, he shot a glance at Jack (heavy lidded and practically oozing desire – no, don’t give in), they’d better get going before the locals got it into their heads that it would be a good idea to kill them.

“Bye, Gwendolyn!” He waved cheerily and dragged Jack away before she could react.

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“I think I like it when you’re possessive,” Jack spoke quietly to a sleeping Doctor. “Not that you need to be. I’m yours.” He ran his hand through soft brown hair, lowering his voice even more. “Heart and mind and body and soul. I love you, you know.”

The Doctor smiled, and spoke in a sleep-slurred voice. “I know.”