No relief for the broken-hearted
Authors Note: Short, one shot, Jack POV, Janto fic.
Timeline: Post CofE. Could be in the new series... Spoilers up to CofE and a small reference to House of the Dead radio play that doesn't really matter if you haven't seen it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood. Don't really know who does, everyone seems to want to have a little play.
Sex doesn't work anymore.
I mean it's all functioning, don't get me wrong. Little Jack is still up for it, still capable, still does his job and does it well. But flesh doesn't burn anymore, orgasms fade quickly. Moments after, even during, I'm planning my days activities, thinking about what I've got to do next and how quickly I can get those sweaty limbs off me.
My thighs used to shudder, my heart used to beat so hard that I couldn't breathe let alone think. Only time I could forget and not be Captain Jack Harkness, immortal, 51st century, ex-time agent, leader of Torchwood trying to save the world, and just be me. And all I used to want was those sweaty limbs wrapped around me.
Now, when they touch me afterwards it feels like going to the doctors. You put up with it, but you're really just waiting for them to finish so you can put your clothes back on. That's not right. Probably not a good analogy though, because if truth be told, and truth should never be told, I actually used to like going to the doctors - "Oh you've really got to do a rectal exam? Are you sure? Well, okay then, if you have to..." Funny Owen never wanted to give me a physical. Worked well for stopping tricky questions though.
Any way, it's not like I haven't tried with the sex. This is an important part of life after all and I do have a reputation to keep up, even if it's only me and little Jack left to know about it. I've sort the hottest, most talented souls the galaxy has to offer. And well... I might as well have had a wank on my own.
He wasn't that good. I mean, yeah, he was good, well fantastic. But he wasn't, like, experienced or anything. At the start he was just kind of guessing and fumbling his way through. Although that was sort of hot, showing him the ropes, being the first to chart unexplored territory. He did do his homework, I'll give him that, and he was a fast learner. Nothing that boy didn't do thoroughly - taught me a few things actually... But when it all came and went, he wasn't the galaxy's finest. He was just an ordinary bloke. It was just sex.
Cept it wasn't. Just sex. Cause there was more than that, of course there was. I told Ianto, just once, but I got the words out of my sorry mouth. It was almost too late, but I said it. And I think he already knew, I'm almost positive of that. I'm not too sure I did. Trust Ianto to know what I was thinking before I did.
I remember thinking he was a valuable member of the team and a great addition to my bed. I remember wanting to spend time with him, sit down for a scotch and a chat. I knew he loved me and that meant a whole lot. But I remember more than that, remember craving a kiss to send me on the way in the morning and a hug at the end of a hard day so I knew it was still alright. But I think I thought, for a long time really, that I could have replaced those hugs with any arms. I knew I was in trouble when I realised I couldn't.
But sex isn't that. Craving a cuddle and friend – that's different – separate. Anyone can suck a cock. So I should still tremble, still see stars. I should still regain consciousness in a sticky mess and not know where I am.
But I'm nothing if not tenacious. I'm not giving up on my little fella, what a shame would that be to a galaxy – an eternity – of men and women. I'll keep chugging along, so to speak, keep tangling myself up with sweaty limbs – until it works again – until I'm fixed.
I hope it's soon.
Author's note: Sorry hope that wasn't too mean to the ol' Jack. I'm sure he'll be up and ready in the new season. Please review.
