Amok Time Lord 3: Seven Years of Luck

Amok Time Lord 3: Seven Years of Luck

*****

Introduction

*****

This is the third story in the Amok Time Lord series-- my Doctor/Jack crossover AU. The first story was where the Doctor ended up in the Star Trek universe for a while, and suffered some strange aftereffects of a mind-meld with Spock. The second story was about how a new timeline diverged from Doctor Who canon-- a timeline where the tenth Doctor goes on living for a long time, with Captain Jack Harkness as his companion.

Like the second story, this one deals with the consequences of the crossover part-- there's no actual interaction with furries or Trek characters in this one, just references to them. I do plan to work more of the Trek and the furs into future installments-- maybe even something with the lizard people from the eleventh Doctor's season. But I'll have to give it some time to percolate in my head.

This story is still mostly about sex, but it has a little more plot than the last two, and is quite a bit darker. It has Daleks and non-con bondage scenarios.

It also explores what the Doctor and Jack's relationship looks like after a few years together. Considering Jack's nature, I don't think they would have a completely exclusive relationship with each other, but I do believe they could develop a deep love for each other nonetheless.


*****

*****


The Doctor woke to the blue sunlight of Damaira Brill, turning over in the soft hotel bed. His arm reached out before his eyes were fully open, finding and stroking Jack's naked shoulder.

"Mmm." Jack grabbed the hand and kissed it. "Good morning."

"What time is it?" The Doctor's eyes squinted.

Jack grinned. "You're the Time Lord. You tell me."

"I can tell it's too early to get up," the Doctor muttered, nestling his face against Jack's chest.

Jack grabbed the controller on the nightstand, pressing a button to make the window go dark. "What, you don't want to go out at the crack of dawn and stand in the shimmer cloud as you watch the sun rise? You were going on and on about that for hours, before we got here." His smile was invisible in the dark, but it could be heard in his voice.

"Sun's risen already." The Doctor snuggled close against Jack. "And the shimmer cloud will be there all day. Those tiny phosphorescent air-fish that make it up-- they're diurnal. Sunrise is just when they first come out."

Jack held the Doctor's head close against his chest. "Since when are you such a sleepyhead? If I didn't know better, I'd think you stayed up all night fucking."

The Doctor let himself smile against Jack's skin. Strangely enough, this had been one of the nights when they actually hadn't stayed up late fucking. They'd gotten to the planet late in the evening, with just enough time to eat in the hotel restaurant before going to bed exhausted.

"How do you know I didn't?" he asked, still smiling. "For all you know, I might have banged the waitress in the lavatory while you were having that scintillating conversation with the concierge."

"No, you wouldn't. That's not your style." Jack tousled the Doctor's hair playfully. "And really, are you jealous about the concierge?"

"Oh, of course not." The playful note hadn't gone out of the Doctor's own voice. "Why should I be? After all, I'm more or less sure you didn't bang him in the lavatory while I was reserving the boat ride for tomorrow. Though that is more your style than mine."

Jack lay still for a while, still stroking the Time Lord's head. "I'm not even sure that is my style anymore," he said softly. "I mean, I used to be-- well, you know how I used to be, always ready to fuck anything that moved. But I haven't felt that kind of urge very much anymore, in the years since I've been with you. I mean, really-- how could I go back to normal sex, after--" The Doctor felt Jack's skin shiver and break out in goosebumps.

"Oh, I'm not sure you could change your nature so completely," he said, running a hand over the captain's chest. "And you don't have to. But, if you do go banging any total strangers in the lavatory, I want to hear all about it. Every last detail."

Jack chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind. But I'm sorry, I don't have any enthralling stories from last night. The concierge wasn't really my type. Besides, he annoyed me. He asked the question. Though, I guess everyone asks it sooner or later."

"What, the how-did-you-two-end-up-together question?"

"Yeah." Jack was grinning; the Doctor could still hear it in his voice. "What am I supposed to say when someone asks that? With lives like ours, how can we answer that sort of thing?"

The Time Lord smiled back through the dark. "I'll tell you how I answer it," he said. "I'm very straightforward. I tell them, 'Oh, it's just your usual boy-meets-boy story. First a mad scientist changed Jack into a cat, and sent him and me both into an alternate universe where Star Trek really happens. Then I made the mistake of mind-melding with Spock, and came down with some Vulcan mating drive, so Jack shagged me until I turned into a cat too, and then afterwards we both changed back and went home.'"

Jack burst out laughing. "I bet that stops the conversation right there."

The Doctor stared at the ceiling through the darkness. "The truth tends to do that. The truth about my life tends to, anyway."

He was quiet for a few moments. It was hard even for him to believe the story of how their love affair had begun, all those years ago. Not to mention how Jack had managed to stop it from ending-- responding to a message from the future, jumping in to abort the Master's resurrection, saving the Doctor's life and branching reality off into a new timeline where the two of them would travel as companions and lovers for centuries to come.

"Yeah," Jack said, already beginning to relax. The Doctor knew that Jack slept very little, maybe not at all, but he did seem to enjoy his nights of rest in the Doctor's arms. "My life too."


*****


It was late morning when the Doctor woke up again, feeling as if something had been pulled out from under him.

He ran his hands over the mattress. His face was flat on the bed, no longer resting on a muscled human chest. He sat up with a jolt. "Jack? Jack, where are you?" The room was still dark; the lights weren't on in the lavatory or anywhere else in the hotel room.

Running his hand over Jack's pillow, he felt something-- a small oblong piece of metal. He grabbed the controller from the nightstand, and set the window to let in light again.

As soon as the light hit the little capsule-shaped object, it started humming and vibrating in his hand. A white beam emanated from the end of it, expanding as it went out, until it coalesced into a meter-tall figure in the center of the room.

A holographic image. The Doctor squinted at it. A ghostly and glowing figure, cylindrical, with a domed head and--

God damn it-- it was a Dalek.

"What's going on?" he shouted. "What the hell just happened?"

The holo-Dalek aimed its eye stalk at him. "We have taken the human male."

"What? Where have you taken him? Why?" The Doctor forced himself not to panic. Jack was invulnerable. He would be safe no matter what the Daleks tried to do to him. "You know you can't kill him."

"But we can kill you, by holding him prisoner."

"So, what, he's bait in a trap for me? Well, fine, then. Fine. Tell me where he is, and I'll come, and you can just take your chances with trying to catch me in your bloody trap."

"There is no trap. We will not tell you where he is. But nevertheless, you will die."

"Hold on. Hold on. What's that supposed to mean? Do you think I'm going to kill myself because he's not here? Well, I'm not. I'm going to keep looking until I find him, and when I do, I'm going to make you wish you never--"

But the communication had ended.

The Doctor threw the metal capsule against the floor, shattering the holographic image. "God damn it!"


*****


Jack found himself rubbing his face and squinting in bright light. His head hurt, as if he'd been zapped by some kind of energy weapon. He seemed to be in some kind of cage, slumped against a transparent wall, with something moving on the other side. Where was he? The last thing he remembered was being in bed with--

"You will answer our questions," said a voice in front of him, a horrible grating machine-like voice. He recognized the voice even before his eyes focused fully on the figure staring at him, the domed head, the metal eye stalk.

"Fuck," he mumbled. "I've been kidnapped by Daleks. Some vacation. What the hell do you want?"

The Dalek's eye stayed focused on him, unmoving. Its voice started up again, giving Jack a headache on top of his headache. "How many years have passed since you first mated with the Time Lord?"

"What?" Jack's mouth hung open a second. "None of your business! And besides, I don't even think I remember."

He thought back. What year had it actually been? Jack and the Doctor had done so much time-traveling since then, it was hard to keep track of the date. And why the hell would Daleks want to know it anyway?

"Think back carefully, captain," the Dalek said. "Remember the rift between universes. Remember the Doctor's insanity."

That got Jack's attention.

"How do you know about that?" he shouted. "Nobody knows about that except me and the Doctor." People knew the two of them were together, but they'd never told anyone the whole story of how it happened. At least, not anybody who didn't assume they were joking. Some things were just too weird to talk about.

"In the future, others will know," the Dalek replied. "And we have spies throughout time."

"Then why don't you know when it happened?"

"We have an estimate of the date. What we wish to know is how many years have passed for the Doctor."

Jack was still trying to figure that out. A time-traveling lifestyle made it so hard to count years. It had probably been at least five, and maybe more-- the three years the Doctor had waited for him, and then the years they'd had together, somewhere between two and four. "Why do you care so much?"

"We wish to know how close the number is to seven."

It couldn't be... Jack bit his lip. Was the Dalek saying...?

On that day, however many years ago it had been, the two of them had found themselves pulled into another universe, and found it to be parallel in the strangest of ways, its reality mirroring events that he knew only in a fictional television program. They'd materialized on the Starship Enterprise, and the Doctor had made telepathic contact with a raving mad version of Mr. Spock. The meld had infected him with some sort of Vulcan insanity-- leading to his first sexual coupling with Jack Harkness.

Since then, the two of them had watched most of the original series of Trek, and pinpointed where and when they had ended up. It was during the events of the episode "Amok Time." The madness was pon farr, a mating drive that compelled the sufferer to find a sexual partner or die. And according to Trek canon, Vulcans experienced it every seven years.

They'd laughed about that, making fun of the show's lack of clarity-- it didn't even say whether they were Vulcan years or Earth years! They'd joked about the possibility of the Doctor's curse coming back, seven years later, but they'd never considered it likely. They had no proof that the universe they'd visited actually matched Star Trek in any particulars other than the ones they had personally witnessed. They weren't in that universe now, anyway; its weird laws of science had no bearing on them anymore. And the Doctor had no Vulcan biology. His pon farr had been a purely telepathic phenomenon.

They couldn't discount a vague possibility-- maybe the laws of telepathy were the same in both universes; maybe pon farr was always an inherently telepathic phenomenon-- but they'd never taken it seriously. Yet somehow, apparently, these Daleks did.

"Your spies in the future," Jack said. "What do they know about the Doctor's-- sex drive?" God, that question had sounded weird, but it had to be asked.

"I am asking the questions here," the Dalek snapped. "But I will tell you this. With your first copulation, you and the Doctor formed a telepathic mating bond. In the years since then, that bond has grown strong enough to survive even his regenerations. In the future, you are his companion for centuries upon centuries. And every seven years of that time, he must mate with you, or die." It said "die" in that awful Dalek way, all drawn out and high-pitched at the end.

"He's not going to die just because I'm not there," Jack said, despite the increasingly uneasy feelings in his chest. "For god's sake, we've never even considered this a totally closed relationship-- he's not going to have any problem with fucking someone else, if his life's at stake."

"It is not his choice," the Dalek replied. "His mating bond is with you. You are necessary to him. No one else will suffice."

"And so you think you've found the Doctor's weakness," Jack said. "And you think you can use me to exploit it and change the future, killing him by taking me away? And you're telling me all this just because you think it will make me suffer?" He tried to look and sound defiant, as if he had an ace up his sleeve that the Dalek didn't know about. But he didn't.

"Yes," the Dalek said, aiming its weapon at him. Violent shocks ran through his body, making him shudder and jerk until he passed out again.


*****


When he came around, he was naked in a cold room. He was lying on his back, his wrists and ankles cuffed in tight bands of metal, shackled to a hard metal table. The room was very bare-- plain gray walls, no furnishings except the table and some computer screens nearby, facing away from him.

Looking down at his body, he saw tubes and wires burrowing into his abdomen, and electrodes stuck to his skin here and there. Some of the wires seemed to be connected to the computer screens, some snaked away under the table. And-- yes, he was completely naked, his balls trying to shrink into his body in the cold.

He couldn't see any people, or any Daleks. "Hello? Anyone there?"

There was a noise behind him, just outside his range of vision, and a Dalek rolled into view. It said nothing, it just came closer until it was up against the edge of the table.

"What's with all the-- the wires and tubes and stuff?" Jack demanded, as it pointed its eye at him.

"They are to monitor your body functions," it said, its voice as grating as ever. "And to manage food and waste. Humans are disgusting creatures, and we have no wish to see you eat or excrete."

Jack looked down at himself. "But you do want to see me naked, apparently."

"Your nakedness serves a purpose." Its metal shell began to make a sound, a faint motorized whirr. And then it started to fold open.

"Wait, wait a sec." Jack stared in disbelief as the Dalek's shell opened like doors. "Are you getting naked too? Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm really not into..." He ran out of words as the creature's tentacles came into view, writhing and reaching for him.

"Oh, holy shit." The tentacles were extending, two of them creeping across his thigh. They felt disgusting, cold and squishy like worms. One was starting to wrap loosely around his soft cock, the other meandering over his balls. "What the hell are you--"

The horrible nasal robot-like voice came back. "Does it feel like the Doctor?"

"Oh my god, you are sick!" Jack struggled in the restraints. "Whatever happened to having no emotions? When did Daleks start feeling perverted pleasure?" God, it felt awful, like something dead against him...

"This is not for pleasure," the Dalek replied. "It serves a specific purpose."

"What kind of purpose?" Jack's genitals tried to retract into his body. This was fucking insane. Daleks didn't act this way.

"You do not need to know." The Dalek kept staring at him, with both its mechanical eye stalk and the bulging fleshy eyes that were visible inside the open shell.

Jack turned his head to the side and closed his own eyes-- the sight of what the Dalek was doing was almost as disgusting as the feeling. "Well, to answer your question-- no, you don't feel like him at all. Not even close. You're a pale imitation. Is that why you Daleks always hated the Time Lords so much? Tentacle envy?"

The tentacles continued to work over his groin for a few moments more. The Dalek said nothing. Jack looked back at it, but he couldn't read its body language, couldn't decipher its motivations, or its reaction to the fact that it was getting no sexual response from him.

Finally it turned its eye toward a computer screen that seemed to be connected to the wires on his body. It stared for a minute, examining some readout of his vital signs. Then it took its slimy arms off him, pulling them back inside the shell that was already beginning to close.

"The necessary information has been gathered," it said. "The experiment is concluded." And it rolled away, around a corner, out of sight.


*****


The worst part of solitary confinement was being bored out of his skull.

Jack was no stranger to solitude. He could handle being all alone for weeks, if he had something to read or a project to work on. But when he was shackled to a hard surface, unable even to move his arms and legs, with nothing to do but stare for days at the ceiling and the blank walls-- he could begin to understand how a person imprisoned like this could go insane.

Time went by. He didn't know if it was days or weeks or months. Nothing happened to mark the time, no sunrise or sunset, no change in the lights or sounds around him.

No one ever brought him anything to eat or drink; apparently the tubes handled that. He didn't know why the Daleks bothered to nourish him at all. They must know he couldn't die from starvation or dehydration. And even if he could, why would they care about keeping him alive?

Maybe they were giving him some kind of drug in the food. Or maybe they thought they would get more sexual response from him if he was well-fed. Over time there were several more visits like the first: a Dalek appearing out of nowhere, opening its shell, and sliding its awful tentacles across his groin as it watched a readout on some screen.

But as hideous as those experiences were, the days of loneliness and boredom were worse. Jack started to feel sick when he realized that he was actually looking forward to being violated by the Daleks, just because it broke the deadly monotony.

He started talking, murmuring words under his breath to combat the hours of nothingness, trying to pretend he wasn't alone.


*****


Doctor? How are things going for you? I assume you're on your way already-- that's the kind of thing you'd do, track the energy of whatever sent me here, and follow it until you get to where I am. Wherever that is.

And then you'll break me out of here, and blow all these Daleks to smithereens-- well, no, you probably won't do that, you'll find some way to get me free without killing anyone. Very pacifist. Very Spock, as Rose would have said. Yes, I miss her too. But right now I miss you more.

Remember that time I called you Mr. Spock? It seems more appropriate now than ever. Every seven years, they said. Do you suppose it's true? Did they even tell you about it, or are you still wondering why the hell they took me?

God, I miss you. God, I love you. I don't say that very often. I don't think you've said it ever. I mean, we don't really need to; it pretty much goes without saying. But when I get back home to you, I'll say it over and over again.


*****


The Doctor leaned back in one of the seats in the center of the TARDIS, resting his forehead on his hand. This was bloody infuriating. He'd never seen the Daleks hide their tracks so well.

This time, it seemed they really weren't trying to lure him somewhere, or trick him into getting himself killed somehow. They really were just hiding from him. It had taken two weeks of scanning for different types of energy signatures before he found any trail at all. And that one-- the energy signature on the metal capsule and its holo-Dalek communication-- turned out to be a red herring, leading him into an area of space with virtually nothing in it. That had wasted another two weeks of his time, exploring the area, before he was convinced it really was a dead end.

He rubbed his forehead harder. Why had the Daleks left any message at all, if they really wanted to hide? Probably just their perverse Dalek urge to taunt him. That, and the plot to waste his time tracing the communication. But there was so much about this that didn't make sense. Why did they think he would die if they took Jack?

He knew there must be something he was missing. His mind wasn't as clear as usual... was it the shortage of sleep and food over these past few obsessive weeks? It was a confusion that seemed familiar, in some weird way, but it was preventing him from putting a finger on it.

What was going on? Why couldn't he figure it out? Why had they taken Jack? Why were they holding him prisoner, locked up in some little room, or tied up on a...

Then, all of a sudden, brought on by the thought of Jack tied up, a memory surfaced, so vivid the Doctor could almost feel everything in it. A memory from about a year ago, a moment when the two of them had been in a playful mood... he had found a silk scarf and bound Jack's hands behind his back, made him sit on one of these seats... god, it might even have been the same seat he was sitting in now... and he had knelt in front of him, teasing him with his hands and mouth, keeping him on the edge for a long time...

And all at once, far too fast, his body responded to the memory, tingling heat starting to build between his legs. He barely had time to moan before his flesh was fully aroused, swollen enough to stretch his trouser leg. "Oh my god." He reached down, hands trembling, fumbling with the fastener at his waist.

As soon as it was freed, held in the warm grip of his hand, his shaft unfurled, dividing into the four prehensile shafts that made it up, twisting and grasping, desperate to wrap round Jack's cock. They were slippery with fluid already, preparing themselves for friction, the wetness sensitizing them to his touch. The memory owned him, the memory of how he had kissed and licked and fondled Jack until he was begging for more, and then risen to straddle him, letting his shafts embrace warm human flesh and drive Jack into a screaming release.

And... oh, they were wrapping tight round his hand now, not wrapping gently like the beginning of normal arousal, but an urgent grip that wouldn't let him go, as if he were seconds away from orgasm. They hadn't even given him time to get his hands in a comfortable position. They'd grasped onto the hand he preferred to use for stroking them from outside, and they'd trapped the fingers at an awkward angle, half-crossed over each other.

But they wouldn't let him go, and he couldn't stop. Already his other hand was clenching tight round them, cramped fingers and all, and he was giving in to the uncontrollable urge, head tipped back, teeth bared, heat rising in his face, stroking and thrusting as hard as he could. "Ohh, yes, god yes..."

It was over too fast. His orgasm was like a fire through his thighs and his balls, making his shafts writhe like mad around his fingers, cum oozing from their skin and bursting from their tips. But he kept stroking and bucking for a few moments after it ended, because it didn't feel like enough; it felt as if there must be more...

No, it was over; his shafts were loosening from his hand. But it had left him unsatisfied, still wanting something.

He knew what it was that he wanted. Sighing, he wiped the semen from his hands and fumbled with the fly of his trousers. Was this what happened when he went without Jack for a month? He had better find him soon, or he was going to go raving mad.

And that thought was what did it, sparked his memory, told him why the confusion and distraction felt so familiar. God, it had been just about seven years.

It must really have happened; the mind-meld in that parallel universe must have left an imprint that stayed, a telepathic time-bomb ready to take control of his mind and force the sexual centers of his brain to overcome his body... oh no, no, no, he really was going to go raving mad, so mad that it ripped apart his mind and killed him...

Unless he found Jack. And how the hell was he going to find Jack when he couldn't think about anything but shagging him?

*****

Doctor? Are you okay? I don't know how long it's been.

The Daleks said that in the future-- the future they're trying to change-- we stay together for centuries. "Centuries upon centuries" is what they said. Could be thousands or millions of years for all I know. Maybe they don't even know; maybe they never see us lose each other.

Can you imagine that? I wonder what you're like after a few more regenerations. I know I'll still want you no matter what. Some things might change, but the parts of you that really matter to me don't ever go away.

I wonder what I'll be like, after thousands or millions of years. Am I going to turn into some wrinkled old thing in a tank, like the Face of Boe? Will you eventually run out of regenerations and die forever? Or do you and I find some way to regenerate together, live out a thousand lives side by side?

If I ever do die somehow, or change into something that you can't mate with... would that kill you the next time pon farr comes around? Do Vulcans die if their mates die, or can they take a new mate? Oh, never mind; Spock had a half-brother; they can remarry. Though, nobody liked that movie, even Roddenberry said it wasn't canon. I wonder if it was canon in the universe we got sent to. God, it's weird to think about something like that.

Is it because of me that the cycle is continuing for you? If I hadn't stopped the Master, if we hadn't stayed together long enough to strengthen the mating bond, would the pon farr have just disappeared in your next regeneration? Or would the cycle have kept going, but without a mate to focus on? In the timeline where I didn't change things, where you regenerated and we lost touch with each other, do you just go on by yourself for centuries, screwing whatever you can find, once every seven years?

Fuck, I really hope it's not my fault. Do you think it's actually getting close to that time? Has it been seven years? Please get here before it comes. I don't want you to die. I want to be with you when it happens.

You're so fucking sexy I can't stand it. And you're even hotter when you're going crazy, losing control. It feels awful to say this, since your life will be in danger and everything... but I can't wait to go through that with you again, to save your life again.

Oh, my god, I can't believe it-- I'm actually getting horny thinking about it. I mean, not like I have a full hard-on, but I could get one if I stay on this topic much longer. Why am I feeling like this now? I haven't gotten hard in all the time I've been tied up here. This is the least erotic place I've ever been... this fucking hard cold table, hours and hours and days of nothing happening, and then Daleks coming in and-- ugh.

They monitor my vitals while they grab at my junk with their slimy tentacles. I wonder what the hell they're trying to figure out. Sometimes they ask me if it feels like you. What the fuck are they thinking? It feels like a bunch of fucking dead worms, and you feel like pure hot alien sex wrapped around me, touching me exactly where I need, exactly how I want...

Oh damn it, I'm hard now. What's happening to me? It's been just a few seconds, thinking about you, and I'm so hard it hurts, and my hands are tied and I can't... oh god damn it, here they come...


*****


It was just the one Dalek, again, by the side of the table, staring at the screen. Jack wasn't sure if it was the same one as the other times; they all looked alike. For all he knew, maybe there was only one Dalek holding him captive, one rogue pervert Dalek exiled from the rest of Dalekdom.

"You are aroused," it said.

"Brilliant fucking deduction," Jack muttered. Why wasn't the sight of the Dalek getting rid of his arousal? Why was he still hard enough to ache?

It was turning its mechanical eye toward him, beginning to open its shell. "When was your first copulation with the Doctor?"

So it was back to this interrogation again? "Stardate 3372.7," Jack shot back, squeezing his eyes shut.

"That is not a valid date."

"It was valid where we were."

"And how many years have passed since then for the Doctor?" The shell was open now, and the hideous Dalek eyeballs were watching him along with the robot eye. He had turned to look, but he forced his eyes shut again as soon as he saw it.

"I don't know. I've lost track." He could barely keep track of anything right now; he was still hard as a rock, needing so badly to touch himself that his hands were pulling at the restraints, even though the Dalek was still staring at him.

One of its tentacles was reaching out from the shell, resting on his hip for a moment, cool and slippery, then extending its wormlike tip to entwine around his shaft. "Does it feel like--"

Jack turned his head away, gritted his teeth, clenched his eyes. "No!"

No, damn it, it didn't feel like him, not at all-- but just hearing the question was making his mind fill in everything that was missing: the heat of the Doctor's prehensile shafts, the muscular strength of their grip, the clove-musk scent of them, the feeling of his body, his lips, his hands, his double heartbeat, oh, fuck, please...

And then the tentacle was gone, leaving him throbbing against the air, unable to stop thrusting even though there was nothing to thrust into.

Gradually his eyes focused. There was another Dalek in the room now, standing next to the one that had been touching him-- the first time he'd seen two Daleks at once ever since he got here.

The second one was staring at the screen. "Is it time?" it said.

"Affirmative." The first one began to close up its shell. "Our estimate of the time was correct. The mating bond is active. Soon the Doctor will lose control of his primitive emotions and die."

The panic that ran through Jack somehow couldn't quell his arousal. "You're wrong," he shouted. "He's not going to die. He's going to find me." The captain thrashed in his restraints, his aching body unable to stay still.

"Perhaps you will also die," the new Dalek said, turning its eye toward him. "Perhaps this is what it takes to kill you."

And as they left, abandoning him shackled and painfully hard, his cock and balls on fire and his hands immobilized, his mind already flooding with fever dreams of the Doctor... he couldn't help considering the possibility that it might be true.


*****


The Doctor bent over the console in the center of the TARDIS, clinging on to one of his increasingly rare moments of lucid thought. His skin was hot and sweating all over, his hair disheveled, his clothes torn up-- his last few attacks of sexual madness had been so intense that he had ripped fabric apart in his desperation to touch himself.

He was trying to use these few minutes of sanity to make some headway on finding Jack, but his mind couldn't focus. Sanity was relative. He wasn't raving and rending his garments right now, but he certainly wasn't clear-headed enough to trace energy signatures and calculate probable locations.

"Think, damn it," he muttered to himself. "What would the Daleks do? If I were a Dalek, where would I put Jack to hide him from me?"

But it was impossible for the Doctor to think like a Dalek right now. Daleks were cold and calculating. Daleks were unable to love. Daleks were asexual, no matter how much they looked like great big bumpy cocks...

Oh, now he had done it. He leaned forward against the console, gripping it with white-knuckled hands, as the insanity took him again, spurred on by the thought of Jack's cock after the feline transformation, swollen and textured and wrapped tightly in his prehensile shafts...

"Ohhh..." He was out of control, rubbing himself against the console, his shafts grasping at it, bumping against buttons and switches as they moved in search of stimulation, and he didn't even care. He threw his head back and groaned.

It wasn't going to satisfy him; it wasn't a mating with the lover he had bonded himself to in his first pon farr, so it couldn't do anything to ease his agony. But he was too far gone to care. He ached to join with something alive, anything-- to mind-meld and share sensations-- and here at the console he could sense a life and a mind, the heart of the TARDIS.

He moaned and gripped the console harder and tried to open his mind to it, the sense of its presence feeling like water in the desert, as he thrust his hips harder against it, letting his shafts writhe and thrash across it-- god, it was torture, there was nothing there that touched him in any way that could help, nothing he could wrap around, nothing to wrap around him--

--and yet he couldn't stop; the mating drive was forcing him on, screaming at him that this was the only living thing here besides him, and he had to fuck it.

And... oh, yes, its mind was opening fully to him now, enveloping him in the peace of its thoughts, giving him a taste of relief even though his sex was still on fire with unsatisfied need... the pon farr seemed to lust after a connection of the minds almost as much as a sexual release. It wasn't Jack, it wasn't what he needed, but he closed his eyes and leaned his whole body against the console, pain and pleasure contorting his face, diving deeper into the TARDIS's soul.

His eyes were shut; he could see nothing except dull red light through his eyelids. But his mind's eye began to picture things-- shapes and landscapes, his attempt to process visually the feeling of being in a new place.

Being inside the mind of the TARDIS right now was like being underwater, quiet and weightless with a sense of pressure around him, a comforting pressure like an embrace. There was a hint of ground below and light above, and soothing colors swirled between, some of them shapeless like clouds, some darting about like animals or swaying like plants. He could still feel the fever of his body, his skin tingling and begging for touch, the throbbing agony between his legs that slid across the console leaking semen, rubbing itself on anything that could stimulate it even a little. But his mind was calmer than his body now, held in another mind that somehow lifted it away from the pain for a while.

And the mind was speaking to him, not in audible words, but in ideas that felt like his own thoughts going through his brain. He felt the TARDIS's affection for him, an emotion that remembered changing and growing throughout their life together, sometimes possessive, sometimes needy, but now finally calm, like a good friend, happy to see him in love. The memory of Jack's resurrection flashed up for a moment, the will of the TARDIS acting through Rose, creating a partner for the Doctor who could have a lifespan to match his own. The TARDIS had wanted them to be together right from that moment.

Then there was another thought, a sense of understanding, an analysis of the mating bond that tied him to Jack. He found himself visualizing it as a powerful magnetic pull, activated by the electric shock of the pon farr. They were like two magnets, each able to stir and move the other, even from a distance, even through barriers.

And if their magnetism became strong enough, it could pull one to the other, across the space between them...

He could feel it now, feel the bond and recognize it for what it was-- the TARDIS had helped him to understand. He could tell which of his body's sensations were really echoes of what Jack felt; he could identify emotions, sort out Jack's trapped-creature panic from his own frustrated obsession with seeking out his mate.

Oh, god, Jack was wanting him so badly, his human cock as swollen and desperate for touch as the prehensile shafts that shoved themselves across the console. The Doctor could feel both, superimposed on each other, double arousal and double need that made him want to scream for release.

"OH! Oh, fuck, yes, Jack, please..." He arched his back and thrust harder and faster against the hard unsatisfying surface, his hands clenched on the console's edge so tightly they hurt, the peace of the TARDIS's mind starting to dissolve in the heat of the blood fever. He was a rutting animal, out of control, he would mate with anything, anything, but it wasn't going to help, damn it, it wasn't what he needed...

And then the TARDIS shook beneath his feet. It was activating itself-- he could feel the beginning of dematerialization, feel what its mind was doing, in conjunction with his own mind.

Oh, god yes-- it was following the bond, letting the telepathic link lead it in the right direction, letting the magnetic force pull him to wherever Jack was...

"Jack!" he gasped, "Jack, I'm-- I'm coming for you." And then a few seconds later the words had another meaning-- the motion of the TARDIS, the vibration of the console beneath him, combined with the touch of the TARDIS's mind, was just enough to push him over the edge, groaning and shuddering, hips jerking, his prehensile members thrashing against the hard surface as he came all over it.

He sank to his knees, dizzy from the release, but still unsatisfied, his shafts still fully tumescent, grasping at his hand as he rested it between his thighs.

The motion around him had stilled... he could tell the TARDIS had rematerialized. The mating bond throbbed harder in the back of his mind. He was close to Jack now, much closer than before. Staggering to his feet, fighting the fever and the weakness in his legs, he ran to the door and pulled it open.

It opened into outer space-- a field of dark sky and stars, a small barren planet, and, half-hidden behind its moon, a saucer-shaped spacecraft.

"He's on that ship," the Doctor said. "We got close, but we're still off by... some amount, I don't know how much, I can't think clearly enough." He turned toward the console, even though his need for Jack was so urgent that it hurt even to look away from the spaceship that contained him. "Please... I can't think clearly enough to-- to fine-tune the location. I have to try again, but you'll have to help me."


*****


Jack was groaning and thrusting into the air when the Dalek returned, all his reason stripped away by the torture of being aroused to the point of agony and unable to move his hands. He knew only the ache in his cock and balls, the heat of his fever, the torment of sweat running down his skin.

He didn't hear it come in, didn't see it approach the table and stare at the screen. He didn't see the second one come in, a few minutes later. Only when the second one started speaking did he begin to process their presence.

"The TARDIS is outside," it said. "Our plans must change."

The other one turned toward it. "The mating bond acts as a beacon? The Doctor was led to us? Inconvenient. But still acceptable. He is insane. He is vulnerable. He will be easy to destroy."

The words didn't quite bring Jack back to sanity, but the shock cleared a little of the fog from his mind for a moment. "See," he murmured through the fever. "Told you he'd find me."

"The possibility was anticipated and planned for," one of the Daleks snapped at him. "We had hoped he would die on his own, but luring him here to kill him is an acceptable alternative. He is mentally impaired and incapable of self-defense. He was not even able to pilot the TARDIS to the correct location."

"Don't underestimate him," said Jack. He could feel it now, the Doctor's presence, how close and how strong it was. The proximity was a relief and a tease at the same time. God, he wanted to break these restraints to pieces, leap into the TARDIS through miles of hard vacuum if that was what it took, pin the Doctor against the wall and... "Don't you dare underestimate him. He's right outside, isn't he? He's gotten pretty damn close already, and in a second he's going to get inside this ship, and then god help you if you get between him and me."

"We are not underestimating him," said the Dalek nearer to the table, its shell beginning to open. "We are taking precautions to ensure that his mind will not become clear."

"Oh, no." Jack's eyes went wide. The other one's shell was opening too, and both were reaching tentacles out toward him.

They were as disgusting as ever, soft and sickly pink, two from each Dalek, crawling across his groin all at once. But the most horrifying thing was how much he found himself wanting them-- how mind-blowingly good it felt just to have any touch at all, after all these days of torture.

They were awful, slimy and cool and wormlike, nothing like the superheated strength of the Doctor's grip, but oh, god, they were touching him, coiling around his cock and moving against him, setting off nerve endings wherever they went, setting his tender skin on fire. It was a drop of water in the desert, a gasp of air in the vacuum of space, and the insanity doubled and quadrupled with the hope of something that could actually ease it.

"Ahh, aaahh, oh fuck, AAAH!" It was forcing him to move his hips in helpless response, to moan and arch his back and clench his teeth with the disgusting pleasure, to drive his throbbing erection into the coil of slippery alien flesh over and over, oh yes, oh YES, more, more, MORE...

And then the tentacles were gone, all at once, lifted away from him as if the Daleks had seen, on the monitor, how close to the edge he was. He thrashed in the restraints, his cock and balls burning and aching in pulses, in time with his heartbeat, fighting a losing battle against madness.

The word "please" was right behind his lips, struggling to get out, and he bit his lip until he tasted blood. No, fuck no, he would not be reduced to this. He might be going crazy, he might be dying, but he was Captain Jack Harkness, and god fucking damn it, he was not going to beg a Dalek to make him cum.

It was sinking in, the realization that the Doctor wasn't going to rescue him-- not if this torture kept up, holding them both in the grip of madness. The Doctor was helpless and it was up to Jack to take this into his own hands, even if he had to do the most painful thing he could think of doing right now. The balance had tipped, the Daleks' torture had become worse than any other pain he could imagine, and there was no other way to stop it... and that gave him the willpower.

He moved his right hand, pulled on the restraint until it wouldn't pull any further-- and then kept pulling. Metal dug into flesh until it bled. He pulled harder. Muscles cramped and tendons moved at angles they shouldn't. Nerves pinched and shot pins and needles through his fingers. He pulled harder.

Finally, with a crack that made his stomach lurch, the bones broke.

His ruined hand pulled right through the unbreakable circle of metal, on fire with pain, and swung in an arc from there to the nearest Dalek, lying exposed in its open shell. The explosion of agony when he hit it was enough to make him black out for a fraction of a second-- but he felt the creature's flesh squash and split, breaking apart like gelatin under his hand.

There was no time to hesitate; he couldn't give the other Dalek a moment to react. Clenching his teeth until he felt grains of enamel breaking off, he raised his hand and brought it down on the second exposed body, crushing it, making chunks of vile octopus flesh fly off to the sides.

He doubled over in pain, groaning for several seconds as his mind struggled with the outraged nerves of his hand. It had hurt so much that it actually distracted him from his raging erection for a moment-- he was still hard, unbelievably, but the need to be touched was no longer dominating his mind and ripping apart his sanity. Maybe he had helped clear the Doctor's mind too. He had to hope.

But the agony of the injury was fading a tiny bit, now-- his broken bones were already beginning to heal, and that gave him the strength to start on his other hand. He had to get both hands and both feet loose, fast. The two Daleks were dead, bodies smashed and tentacles twitching in their shells... but there were probably other Daleks on this ship, and the chances were that they would be coming in here soon.


*****


The Doctor clutched the edge of the control panel, gasping and thrusting, his mind joined again to the heart of the TARDIS. It was having less and less success calming him.

It was trying to help, sorting through the sensations he was feeling and trying to isolate the pull of the bond, trying to pinpoint exactly where it was leading him and set coordinates to follow it there. But the chaos of lust in his mind tore any order apart as soon as it was formed.

And then he doubled over and screamed, in pain instead of pleasure-- his right hand felt as if it had exploded, bones cracking apart and flesh twisting all the wrong ways. "Aaahh! Fuck, ow, what-- Aaah!" He looked down at his hand, and his mind was still too hazy to make sense of the fact that it looked undamaged.

Another wave of pain crashed down on him, feeling like an impact of injured flesh against something. He cried out so hard his throat hurt, and then it happened again. He fell to the floor and curled up around his right hand, and he'd barely caught his breath before his left hand exploded in similar agony.

He convulsed and moaned as his feet experienced the same crash of pain, one by one. His prehensile shafts continued to twist in need, grasping at his hands as they jerked in pain, but the injuries he was feeling were enough to drown out some of the fever of arousal. His mind was clearing enough to realize that the injuries were Jack's, that Jack was being hurt...

And Jack was healing, fast, the way Jack always did. The Doctor's chest heaved as he felt the pain dull, bit by bit, until he could move his limbs again.

He raised himself to his knees and rested his forehead against the panel that covered the heart of the TARDIS. "Now," he murmured. "Do it now. I can focus. I don't know what Jack just did, but he's got my mind off the mating drive for a moment, and I don't know how long this moment's going to last. If we're going to do this, it has to be now."

*****

Captain Jack Harkness pulled the tubes and wires out of his skin and took long slow breaths until the healing was complete. He looked around the room with each breath, trying to use every moment to gather information that could help him escape and find his way to the Doctor. He didn't know how much time he had; the rest of the Daleks could barge in any moment.

He felt weak, but at least his muscles hadn't atrophied like a normal human's. As soon as he could stand, he paced the outline of the room, a plain gray square-- he couldn't even find a door. Was it accessible only by teleportation? He didn't even have his clothes, let alone a teleporter, or a...

And then he heard the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard in his long, long lifetime: the sound of the TARDIS materializing.

The Doctor had gotten the location to within a meter. It came into being right in front of Jack's face, the miraculous blue box, the most welcome sight in all of time, its door opening before it even became fully opaque.

And the Doctor was just inside, clinging to the door handle, barely able to stand. His clothes were ripped and stained, not even covering his urgently aroused sex. His hair was sticking out every direction, his lips parted and his teeth clenched as he breathed hard through them, his eyes opened wide and staring at Jack with dilated pupils, staring as if nothing else in the universe were worth looking at.

And then his hands were pulling Jack's head toward him, pulling him inside the TARDIS and pressing their faces together as if they were trying to join into one, holding him in a kiss that bruised his lips and burned every nerve ending in his body. Jack could hear Daleks approaching and he barely even cared.

It was all he could do just to reach back and close the door, while the Time Lord's mouth made love to his; while the fevered body wrapped itself around him, hands on his shoulder blades to press their chests together, one half-clothed leg between his, forcing his naked thigh against the hot and slippery mass of frantically moving tendrils that had owned his fantasies for the past month.

"Oh my god, yes," Jack moaned into the kiss, shifting his legs, trying to push the pulsing need of his own sex into that maelstrom of wet heat and motion. He heard Dalek weapons outside, firing again and again at the closed door of the TARDIS. "We... oh fuck yes... w-we should-- aahh!--get out of here."

"Aahhh, yes, AHH!!" The Doctor was beyond reason, throwing his head back and shoving his hips forward every time one of his prehensile members managed to touch Jack's cock. "Y-yes, ahh, take us anywhere, I don't bloody care..."

Jack stumbled away from the door, the Time Lord's body following him in an awkward dance of lust, unable to break the embrace-- the one remaining trace of rationality in the human's mind trying to get them to the central console. Jack had piloted the TARDIS a handful of times in the past few years-- the trip to Damaira Brill had been one of them-- but never when his mind was in the throes of this kind of chaos.

When the two of them reached the console, the Doctor was still clinging to him, hands on his ass, mouth on his neck, tendrils writhing across his thigh. Jack was delirious with the pleasure, his brain burned out, his body on fire, wanting nothing but the feeling of all this contact and more, going on forever.

But his last scrap of reason managed to move his hand across the controls, setting a destination-- the last destination he had entered, because he couldn't think of anything else-- and the TARDIS shuddered beneath them, dematerializing, leaving the Daleks behind in this remote corner of the universe, wherever it was. The motion nearly shook them off their feet, and they clung to each other, the Doctor's frenzied embrace turning their bodies until Jack was leaning back against the console.

And that was it. With the TARDIS on its way and the Daleks left behind, there was no more hesitation in Jack's movements, no motivations except one. He rested his bare backside on the edge of the console, until he was almost sitting on it, and then he opened his legs and pulled the desperate Time Lord in between them.

The contact was an electric explosion of pleasure-- the slick wet heat of the tendrils wrapping, tightening, squeezing and stroking, setting his cock and balls on fire, hot tingles shooting through them that made his back arch and his breath come out in half-moaning gasps. "Y-yes, god yes, more..."

The Doctor seemed even more insane with lust, moaning louder, thrusting faster, his shafts getting even more warm and wet with fluid as they contracted and stroked harder. His face was contorted in pleasure, mouth open and panting, eyes shut tight. "Yes, oh yes, Jack-- aahh-- ah-- oh, I love you more than anything..."

And just as Jack's skin grew warm all over from the sound of the Doctor's voice saying words he hadn't managed to say before-- just then, the need for words was suddenly gone, because strong Time Lord hands were stroking up his neck until they touched his face, pressing hard, opening his mind... telepathy burning through them both, doubling the physical and emotional feelings until Jack felt as if his mind couldn't hold it all.

"Oh my god--" He could feel the love, every nuance of the emotion, and it was more powerful than he could have imagined. He could feel the joy and relief and pleasure, and the frantic desire for more--

And once again he felt what the prehensile shafts felt: the indescribable alien sensation of having body parts he'd never had, their feverish heat and erotic wetness, the ache of their arousal pulsing to two heartbeats, their frenzied urge to move and grasp, and the back-arching, spine-tingling, gasping, moaning relief as they found their grasp filled, the satiation of weeks of longing as they finally embraced the warm hard flesh of his own shaft.

And through the mind-link he felt another wave of relief, even more intense than the first, as the Time Lord received the resounding echo of what Jack's cock was feeling, the tight slippery heat that pulsated and contracted and tugged at him in four different rhythms at once. "Ahh," the Doctor moaned, his hands gripping Jack's head against him as if he were the only solid object in the universe."Ahh, aaahh-- AH! AH!"

He was so close already. Jack breathed hard against his lover's face and stroked his hands hard down towards the small of the Doctor's back, holding him tightly enough that Jack could rest his full weight on the console, raise his legs and wrap them around the slender waist, holding their sweating bodies even closer together. Their erections strained, pressed between their stomachs, adding even more to the stimulation-- another texture of warm flesh, another flash of sensation, building on the near-orgasmic pleasure, tipping it over the edge.

"Aaah, oh fuck yes!" Jack felt the climax begin to shudder through them both, and he did nothing to try and stop it. In his years with the Doctor, he'd learned to last longer in the grip of those tendrils than he'd lasted the first time, but waiting any more was out of the question now-- they'd waited long enough to go insane, and now the wait was over, and it was coming, now, now, NOW...

His thighs and spine burned with orgasmic tingles that shot inward, converging in his cock and balls in a firestorm of sensation, making his shaft jerk and spasm between them, spurting wave after wave of hot cum across their abdomens and over the already slick skin of the Doctor's prehensile members. "AaaAAH! AHH! AHH! AHH YES AAAH!!!" His hands clawed at the Doctor's back, his teeth clenched, his back arched and his legs tightened around his lover's waist in a rhythm that mimicked the contractions of the shafts that embraced his cock.

The Doctor's eyes rolled back and his hands entwined in Jack's hair as he pressed him harder down against the console, letting the orgasm take them both, moaning and jerking his hips and writhing his tendrils in undulating waves of motion as they spilled semen from their skin and from their tips, soaking the space between the two bodies with hot wetness. His whole body shuddered and clenched, and the sensations of tingling relief and explosive ecstasy resonated all the way into Jack's mind, intensifying his aftershocks. "Ohhh, fuck yes, ooohhh..."

Their bodies felt weightless for a moment, but then Jack became all too aware of how hard gravity was pulling, and reluctantly he loosened the grip of his legs and lowered them to the floor. In a series of small motions, struggling against weak legs and exhaustion, both men lay down beside the console, their bodies still entangled.

As they reached the floor, Jack leaned his head forward through the haze of afterglow, toward the Doctor's ear, and whispered, "Love you too."


*****

The Doctor's breathing gradually calmed, his chest moving against Jack's side. His shafts were still aroused, undulating between their bodies, but they'd been satisfied enough to let go of Jack for the moment. "Mmm," Jack heard him murmur. "Where are we?"

Jack kissed his shoulder. "Was I that good? We're in the TARDIS."

The Doctor raised a hand and softly smacked Jack on the head. "I mean where is the TARDIS."

Jack's mouth twisted up at the corners. "Back on Damaira Brill, if I entered the coordinates right. I think I did, but I'm not sure what time it is-- my mind was pretty far gone by the time I got to the temporal coordinates."

And then the Doctor was starting to sit up, his face shining with that exquisitely charming and playful smile. "Want to go out and see?"

Jack started to get up too, his muscles aching, but in all the best ways. "I don't think we're dressed for it." He glanced down at his own nakedness, and the Doctor's few remaining shreds of clothing. "And would you even be okay without sex, for any amount of time, right now?"

"We'll stay close to the TARDIS," the Doctor said. He was standing now, looking shaky but happy, and walking over to a corner where two suitcases were sitting. "I never even took the time to put these away after I left the hotel," he called to Jack, as he opened one up and started going through it. "I-- I spent every moment looking for you."

Jack watched the view of the Doctor bending over, the telepathically-stimulated sex hormones rushing through him enough to be exciting, but not enough to drive him insane, quite yet. Finally the Time Lord turned around, holding up two suits of clothes.

*****

The door of the TARDIS opened into semi-darkness. It was the edge of a forest, where trees gave way to an expanse of meadow, ending at the shore of a lake that went on to the horizon. Most of the sky was dark, but just above the water it was beginning to turn blue-white with sunlight, and flashes of that color flickered in and out of existence on the lake's surface.

"It's nearly dawn," said the Doctor, stepping out into the meadow, feeling the air cool and moist against his still-fevered skin. "And we're near the water. The shimmer cloud will come out any moment now."

Jack followed him, staying close enough together for the Doctor to feel the heat of his body. The Doctor's clothes felt hot and rough against his too-sensitive skin, but the peace of this secluded place was soothing in some hard-to-describe way. His arousal burned beneath the surface, a fire that could flare out of control any minute, but had ceased to frighten him nonetheless. The grass was soft under their feet; the meadow was dotted with small clusters of flowers that somehow sparkled in the low light. Large-leafed clumps of bushes stood here and there, with flowers of their own hanging almost to the ground.

A motion in his peripheral vision made the Doctor flinch. He turned to see a young man and woman walking hand-in-hand across the far edge of the meadow, laughing and looking around.

"Seems we're not the only people here," Jack said. He was looking farther ahead, at the small sand beach of the lake, where an elderly man and two young women were standing.

The Doctor nodded. "This is something of a tourist attraction, after all." He could feel his face warming at the thought of people seeing him in public while this firestorm of alien sex drive burned inside him. They had no idea... and he could lose control any moment... and it turned him on, more than he'd expected. His shafts coiled and uncoiled in his too-tight trouser leg, and he closed his eyes and drew breath in through his teeth.

"Oohh." Jack closed his own eyes as the echo of the feeling reached him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine for now," the Doctor assured him, trying to focus on the scenery.

Then he saw the surface of the lake begin to shine, more brightly than the reflection of the lightening sky would warrant on its own. "It's coming," he whispered. The phosphorescent air-fish that formed the shimmer cloud were rising from the deep, waking up to spend a day in the air after their night in the water.

The cloud emanated from the lake like mist, shining the same white-blue color as the sun that was about to rise. It swirled in wisps, thick like a glowing afterimage in some places, gauzy thin in others. The creatures that made it up were too small to see at this distance, no bigger than Earth mosquitoes, but they made their presence known. The swarm of them was flowing and moving in ways no cloud of vapor could move-- only a cloud of living things could move like that, a flock of birds or a school of fish, or something in between.

It was starting to spread, expanding, but not sacrificing as much of its density as one might expect, since more and more of it was still emerging from the water. It sent out tendrils like the arms of a living galaxy, stretching and curving across the beach and into the meadow, brushing indiscriminately against trees and bushes and people.

The Doctor glanced at Jack. He was still feeling occasional flashes of the human's emotions and sensations, and clearly both of them still had their minds deep enough in the gutter to find the scene erotic. God, anything could turn him on right now. "They're coming out for food," he said, trying to distract himself. "They feed on nectar. Nearly all the flowers on this part of the planet rely on them for pollination." Damn it, even that had sounded sexy.

An arm of the cloud was reaching into their part of the field, a glowing wisp of light moving in graceful curves and touching down at every clump of blossoms. It surged forward in little rushes from time to time, its slow motion becoming momentarily quick, whenever it finished with the flowers in a certain spot. Before the Doctor was fully aware of how close it was, it brushed right up against him, gusting like a light wind against the back of his neck and around past his face, bathing his eyes in glow. For a split second he saw a few of the creatures individually. They were like tiny minnows, with luminescent bellies and transparent fins as big as their bodies, beating as fast as hummingbird wings.

And that breeze, that brush of contact, was the last straw, the one tiny touch that pushed him beyond control. He bared his teeth and groaned, heat climbing his face, his hearts kicking into overdrive, motion and moisture and fiery warmth coming to life between his legs. "Ohh..."

He could see the fire mirrored in Jack's face. "Time to go back?" the human breathed, leaning too close to him.

The Doctor's eyes darted toward the TARDIS. They had only gotten about five meters from it, but it looked impossibly far away. He was burning, aching, just the heat of Jack's body near him was driving him mad with need. He couldn't walk even two meters, he needed to tear through clothing and wrap himself around hard human flesh, now, this instant... His eyes closed and his head tilted back as he gripped Jack by the hips and pulled him close, grinding against him through clothing, gasping as the contact soothed and incited his mating drive at the same time...

Then there was Jack's voice, moaning as his groin pushed back against the Doctor, then stammering out a few words. "Come here. Down. Here." In the midst of the madness the words seemed unintelligible, but Jack's motions led him, pulling him down onto the grass, both of them on their knees, Jack guiding him until they were both shaded by a cluster of bushes. It was like a living cave, big leaves on all sides sheltering and hiding them, the air thick with the sweet scent of the bush-flowers. The fragrance built on the pleasure, another dimension of sensual stimulation; the soft grass felt like a living body in contact with theirs. The Doctor wrapped his legs around Jack's hips in the small warm haven, both lying curled up on their sides, panting and moaning as their bodies moved and rubbed together.

"Ohh--" Their hands fumbled between their bodies, struggling with belts and zippers as painfully erect flesh strained against too-tight fabric. The touch of Jack's warm and strong hands opening the Doctor's fly made him dizzy with pleasure, made his hips move helplessly and his head toss from side to side as the hot tingling sensations burned up and down his shafts. His own hands clutched at Jack's groin, stroking the outline of his arousal, making himself feel the echo of what Jack felt, but incapable of enough dexterity to work the fasteners. "Uhhh... yess... ahh, please..."

"Ooh, yeah... god yes, hold on..." and the Doctor felt Jack's hands leave him halfway freed, moving to finish undoing his own trousers. The heat between them was enough to make skin feel as if it was burning, the feeling of two hearts beating against one was enough to accelerate all three heartbeats to a dizzying pace. Jack's hands moved jerkily against his groin, struggling between unfastening his fly and touching himself, and the motions of his hands bumped and rubbed and made the Doctor's shafts writhe and reach out from the half-undone clothing and slide across Jack's wrists... made his hands grip Jack's behind, trying to pull them close enough together that he could entwine around him.

"Oh my god, you planned this, didn't you," Jack gasped. "You dragged me out here knowing you'd never-- aaahhh!-- make it back to the TARDIS. Because it turned you on, didn't it, the thought of losing control in public like this. Fuck, yes-- that sense of adventure you have, I swear it never goes away, even when your brain's full of Vulcan craziness..." His hands pulled hard on cloth, and something gave, and he was free, let loose from the tight clothing, the sensation of relief reverberating between both minds.

"Shut up and kiss me," the Doctor growled, and their arms and legs wrapped fully around each other, their mouths moving against each other in frantic surges of pressure, devouring the taste and heat and wetness of the kiss. It turned into a shared moan as the Time Lord's shafts found the human's, twisting round it like vines, feeling a flood of relief that jolted his whole body and tightened the grasp of his hands and tipped his head back in an uncontrollable groan. "Aahhh! YES!!"

Their minds were opening fully to each other now-- not just occasional flashes of feeling anymore, but the deep connection of a mind-meld without even the touch of hands on faces. As the sensations doubled, the Doctor arched his back and thrust faster, hands gripping and clinging hard to Jack's backside, his prehensile members tightening arrhythmically around the pulsing hardness in their grasp. He could feel what it felt, exactly what touches it needed, and instantly they became what he needed, and he was helpless to do anything but give Jack his every desire.

"Uhhhh... ahh!!" He gasped and bucked as he felt Jack's reaction to the grasp of his hands, the sudden urge as they spread his buttocks slightly apart. In helpless response, the Doctor found one of his shafts uncoiling from the human cock and sliding down between Jack's thighs, searching for the opening to his body.

The tendril was already slippery and fever-hot and a dozen times more sensitive than it should be, but when it found the yielding place and began to push through, the feeling of the sudden tight heat shuddered through his whole body like a shock, making his nipples contract, his hearts tingle, and all his muscles go stiff and motionless for a second, feeling as if any more stimulation would be more than he could bear.

But even without moving, more stimulation was washing over him-- the telepathic resonance of Jack's side of the sensation, the feeling of being opened and stretched and filled, the prehensile touch on his prostate that shot jolts of pleasure up his tendril-wrapped cock. "Oh, fuck yes... ahhh!" He felt Jack wanting more, wanting to be filled deeper and more tightly, but at the same time wanting to feel more of what the Doctor was feeling, the desires tangling up in him.

Similar tangled urges tied up the Doctor's hearts, making him stay still except for trembling, not sure how he wanted to move.

His wants were blending together with Jack's, confused. He wanted to be spread open and fucked hard. Jack wanted to plunge into hot tightness and never stop thrusting. The Doctor drew a long shuddering breath, his hands sliding up Jack's back until they reached his shoulders. "I-- I want," he stammered through rough breaths. "I want you inside me."

Jack closed his eyes and leaned his head back for a second, as if even the words were pleasure. His hands rubbed the Doctor's upper arms, gentleness and concern in the touch. "Are y-you sure?" Memories were flashing from his mind, disjointed. They had tried it before, but Jack had barely fit; there had been more pain than pleasure. "God, I don't want to hurt you..."

But the Doctor was in the throes of the blood fever, a state of arousal that craved as much stimulation as physically possible, even at levels that would hurt at any normal time. He could take any pain, if it meant burning out the insane fire inside him-- "Please. Yes!!" He shuddered in Jack's arms, his shafts unwrapping from Jack's sex and sliding out from within him, leaving him slippery with their fluid. The loss of contact hurt enough to make the Doctor's eyes clench shut, but a greater need was building, and he arched his back and moaned in desire.

Jack's hands slid down again, to the Doctor's hips, and struggled with the fabric of his trousers, finally getting it halfway down his thighs, baring the Time Lord's arse to the cool night air. The Doctor could feel Jack's breath against his face, his heartbeat against his chest, until Jack's hands began to turn him-- and then his whole body followed the motion, ending up on his knees and elbows on the soft grass, in between the trunks of the bushes, his legs parted as much as the restricting clothing would allow.

And Jack was on top of him, mounting him, making the leaves and flowers shake around them as he covered the Time Lord's body with his own, wrapping his arms around the slender body as the head of his pulsing erection began to press exactly where the Doctor wanted it. "Oh my god, yes..." The urge to shove back was overpowering. But now he wanted to shove forward as well, because a warm human hand was stroking around his dripping shafts, trailing sweet sensation from base to tip, fingers extricating themselves every time he reached out in blind reflex to grasp them. Driving him mad, gloriously mad...

Then Jack's hand left him, forcing a moan of protest from his throat that had barely ended before he felt the touch come back-- this time up alongside the human cock, fingers reaching in to prepare the way, slicking him with the fluid from his own tendrils. The pressure of them spreading him was a fire, a rough shock of pleasure, and his sex throbbed and grasped at the air as his lungs tried to take a breath. He pushed back as hard as he could, but the fingers moved with him-- they wouldn't go too deep at once, Jack cared too much, he was managing to be careful, even now, damn him... "Ahh! AH! Please--" he begged. "Please."

And then it was happening. The thick head of Jack's member was pushing inside, burning out the Time Lord's brain and nerves until they contained nothing but the pain-pleasure of being stretched wide and stimulated on every centimeter of the spread flesh-- and the exquisite tight hot grip that echoed from Jack's mind, driving him insane with the need to thrust. The two sensations blended and merged until they felt like almost the same thing, a sensory paradox-- a shuddering, tingling, burning, mind-numbing anomaly of pleasure. "More," he groaned, barely recognizing his own voice.

Then his mind whited out into nothingness for a split second, because one of Jack's hands had moved down in front of him to cup his balls, letting his prehensile shafts give in to their desperate need and coil around his thumb and his wrist-- and the other hand was moving all over them, stroking them hard and fast, setting a fire to match the fire behind him as Jack's hot wet thickness sank deeper inside.

It overloaded his nerves and hearts and mind, the almost painful pleasure of the exquisitely tight fullness, the utter relief of hard fast contact as Jack's hands had their way with his tendrils-- combined with the sensations shuddering into his mind from Jack, the feeling of having a human shaft, clasped in hot moist tightness that couldn't help clenching around him in arhythmic pulses, in time with the contractions of the smooth slippery members embracing his hand. "Ahh! AAHH! YES!" His hips jerked back and forth between the two stimulations, the orgasm beginning already, unstoppable, unpreventable, a fixed point in time.

It racked their bodies with tingling spasms, made them struggle to breathe through the gasps and groans. It trembled through their thighs and shot like electric pulses through their shafts and balls, making all their muscles contract in sync with the thrusts, making the Doctor's tendrils and the human's cock jolt and throb and spill what little semen they had left, in hot wet spurts that perpetuated the burn of orgasmic pleasure. Making them cry out so loud that there was no way the people on the beach didn't hear them. But they didn't fucking care, they couldn't even think, as the waves of sensation rolled over them and crushed all consciousness for one insane moment.


*****


The Time Lord's breath returned slowly to normal, his muscles finally relaxing beneath his lover. "My god, that was... My god. Is this going to be a regular thing? Every seven years, forever?"

Jack shrugged as the world reshaped itself around him. "Mmmm... Maybe, I guess? The Daleks seemed to think so." His muscles were cramping all over, and with a soft moan he rolled off the Doctor's back, sliding out as his flesh softened, wet with the fluids of the Time Lord's shafts and his own ejaculation.

"Bloody hell, it seems so weird." As Jack curled up on his side, the Doctor relaxed and lay down to face him, becoming aware of their rumpled and sticky clothing, trousers half-pulled down, shirts wrinkled beyond saving. God, their sex life ruined so many clothes. "I mean, we joked about the pon farr all the time, but I didn't expect it to actually come back."

"Well, weird shit happens when you break into a mirror universe." Jack held him close. "Sometimes you even get seven years of bad luck."

"Or..." The Doctor leaned in and kissed his mouth. "...remarkably good luck." The scent of flowers mingled with the scents of their bodies. Outside, the shimmer cloud had enveloped the cluster of bushes, hiding them in a blue-white world of glow.

"Yeah." Jack kissed back gently. "Even these past few weeks, we've been pretty damn lucky. We found each other. We got free. We got... lucky." He stared into space for a few seconds. "I guess I can finally add Daleks to my big long list of things I've screwed. Not in any hurry to repeat that." Shivering, then forcing himself to smile, he looked into the Doctor's eyes. "How about you? Did you end up... banging any strangers in any lavatories, while I was gone?"

"No strangers." The Doctor ran a hand through Jack's hair, trying to comfort him. "Shagged the TARDIS, though."

"You what?" Jack's forced smile turned into a real laugh. "Seriously? How did that happen?"

The Doctor blushed. "Long story."

"I want to hear all about it," Jack said, leaning close, savoring the contact of their bodies, the moment of calm before the storm would undoubtedly come back. "Every last detail."


*****

END

*****