"What did you take, John?"
Jack knew the look on his partner's face all too well. Although usually he didn't see it while either one of them was fully clothed.
"Oh no you haven't."
John's grin broadened.
"That stuff is nothing but a myth!"
John threw a small transparent canister to him. It was empty. Whatever had been stored in it was undoubtedly coursing through John's veins now. And by the way John's sinfully tight jeans stretched over his crotch it was what he claimed that it was.
"Where did you get it, and what's more - how can you afford it?"
John snorted.
"Oh please. You know me. I've always been good with money."
"No, actually you're horrible with money. It practically runs through your fingers."
"I didn't say I was good at keeping it."
John's head fell back. The moan that escaped his sightly parted lips did funny things to Jack's attempt at righteousness.
"So, not a myth then", he said, trying really hard to keep his voice level.
John arched his back, every inch the picture of pure lust. Jack moved closer.
"If I touch you, are you going to OD?"
"What a way to go", John panted. "Let's find out."
It turned out one could survive a Jack Harkness blow job on top of a high dose of that mystical orgasm drug - but the hangover was brutal. John was near unconscious for almost three days. When he finally stopped puking his guts out he claimed:
"Well, that was fun."
Nevertheless the stuff was never mentioned again.