Alternative Ending to Day One (Season 1.) I would try and write about a later episode, but I have an idea for this one, and I've only seen to the end of Season One, so forgive me for any things that might've happened that I haven't seen yet. Really, basically, no spoilers.
Captain Jack Harkness was not entirely about sex. Despite his youthful dalliances with just about anything and everything, he had settled out a little in the past twenty years or so and kept it simple-young men and women in bars, a colleague once a long time ago, and an alien from a distant star system. Sex, he had found, complicated a lot of things in this time period.
He was skilled in keeping his composure. He never really appeared flustered, sexually frustrated or anything so primal. Jack had managed to keep most of it under control, despite his own desire to experience the more physical side of companionship.
But things were really put into a tizzy when Gwen arrived. Not that he was attracted to her, no, but he had found that she certainly knew how to start things up again. Owen, despite his own "obvious" dislike of the new girl, was perking up at the sight of her, Tosh was happy and Ianto was dubious but pleased. How properly Welsh of him. And then Suzie had shot herself and Jack knew that Gwen was going to be the cause of great upheaval in an already interesting life.
But it was her first day, her first time around the block as the new girl, and she had managed to release an orgasm alien. Naturally. At Torchwood they couldn't have run of the mill green men. They had to have possessed young women who killed men at climax.
His thoughts were interupted by the finger that started to trail from the top of his ear down his neck and to the buttons on his shirt. She always knew how to entice. He ler her work, sitting on the edge of the bed, every muscle screaming for him to act, the pheremones in the air a tantalizing lure to a man so long deprived.
God, he had flirted sure, with the team at Torchwood, but never acted on such casual flirtation. He had tried workplace romance, NSA relationships, and they never worked at , however, was definitely working.
She teased almost more than the women from his own time, different from when they had first been together, when it was primal and rushed-a sense of pure need on both of their parts.
Now, she took her time. Slow, tantalizing, Sure of herself in a way few women were. He had long ago started to appreciate a more experienced lover, someone who didn't shake in almost fear.
He remembered when they had cornered Carys at the fertility clinic. Owen could barely control himself, and if Carys had truly known what he was capable of, Jack wasn't sure he could've held his remarkable composure. He was like a giant battery for someone like Carys, a tantalizing battery.
And Tosh had told them the latest information, that at this point, Carys and the alien were inexorably twined, that they couldn't be seperated, and at the best, they may be able to keep her alive, but only at the cost of others energy. Jack hadn't exactly revealed himself, just told them to do it.
La pettit morte came to mind and had become even more fitting in these past few months. God she was tiring.
It wasn't that he enjoyed dying, though he did crave death, the feeling of complete loss. And Carys, God Carys, could bring that with her own need. And the woman that the alien possessed? She had accepted her fate.
Not that it hadn't taken a little convincing. But when confronted with death and Torchwood, people had a habit of choosing Torchwood. As a woman weapon, she wasn't safe enough to be allowed on her own. She lived in the Hub with Jack, helped Ianto with his job, and when Ianto was upgraded to a field agent she took over the tourist office.
When the team had found the cannibals, he hadn't meant to forget her. She was the only member of the team that hadn't come with them into the country, and therefor had to wait in a lock down hub while they fought for their lives. He couldn't contact her, couldn't tell her to hold on just a little longer. She nearly died.
They were only gone for two days. When he came back to the Hub, alone, she had jumped him, the most demanding experience he had ever been a part of, the grating from the Hub's floor digging into his back as she exacted her toll. Dying never felt so good. Owen would say it was the best way to die, but Jack couldn't be sure. Of all the ways he died, he wasn't exactly sure which one was better or worse.
His mind kicked back to the present as her hand snaked its way into his pants. Always to the point. He didn't quite recall when she had just given up and moved into his small room, when the sex became maybe a little more than a life necessity.
He gave up the attempt at nonchalance and pushed her hand away, turning around and pinning her to the bed. Her eyes gave away her own elation-a combination of the actual Carys and the alien possessing her.
If there was anyone he could give himself to completely, to die for every night, he supposed it would have to be the possessed but otherwise unremarkable woman that would reignite his passion.
He gave in to the sensations she was so good at producing, the heady scent of pheremones filling the air as he peeled off her clothes and found himself, like he had so often, losing himself to her.
He prayed this would never stop.