It's FINALLY DONE!

I am very very sorry for keeping you all waiting, and thank you VERY much to absolutely everyone that reviewed :)

I will briefly explain why this is so late after this, but for now, on with the show!

Lust

"So."

Jack took a deep breath. "So." He couldn't bear to look up. He still couldn't look the Doctor in the eye, not after what happened. There was an awkward silence. The Tardis panel was still, since they had already landed. But neither man felt like moving, neither felt like opening the doors to the new world that awaited them.

They'd managed to survive the previous day, after leaving the science station. They'd gone on to another planet, battled a few bad guys and righted a few wrongs. They hadn't spoken much. They'd put what had come to light behind them, pretended it never happened. Doctor's orders.

But with a fresh new day came a fresh perspective. And the Doctor was willing to accept that Jack was in love, in the same way he'd managed to accept that what he felt towards Jack consisted mostly of some sort of… unbridled lust. And he wasn't ever going to tell Jack that. Well, he didn't plan to. But since when did his plans ever go… according to plan?

"Right!" the Doctor yelled, jerking out of his reverie, pelting to the door, coat in hand.

"Left?" Jack said, smiling. The word had no relevance; it was just the first thing that came to mind.

"Right," the Doctor said, grinning back. It seemed that Jack had said the 'right' thing. Their eyes had met. Jack felt like hot sticky treacle was poured into him. He shivered with a small contentment, feeling his heart warm. There was a momentary pause in which the Doctor stopped his bouncing, and actually looked at Jack. If Jack had been writing poetry at the time, he would have said that the Doctor saw into his soul.

With a jerk of his head, the Doctor motioned Jack to join him, the moment gone. Jack leapt from the metal grating of the floor, snatching his coat up and following the Doctor out of the doors –

…Into a museum. Well, it was probably a museum. Or an art gallery. Or something that generally has a similarly dusty smell. The domed ceiling was almost thirty metres above where they stood, plaster swirls in various neutral/magnolia colours embellishing the edges. The room was deserted, seeing as there were no obvious entrances or exits. Massive portraits of teahouse-green dogs in majestic positions lined every wall. Jack took a step on the marble floor, and it took a few seconds before he heard the echo, ostensibly louder than the original sound. The blue box looked rather out of place, being the most colourful thing in the gigantic room. It occurred to Jack that if the ceiling collapsed, it would really hurt.

"Where are we?"

"Steinlager's Third Monumental Reversal Squad."

"In English?"

"That is English. The Tardis has translator circuits, dummy."

Jack sighed, shaking his head. "I mean, what does that mean?" He ignored the echoes, which were really rather distracting.

"It means: Reversal Squad, the Third one, made in Monument to Steinlager."

"Whatever. Is it a museum?" Jack queried, hoping for a simpler answer.

"It's a Reversal Squad."

"Doctor, give me a clear answer. What the hell is a reversal squad?"

"Reversal Squad. Capital Letters."

"How can you tell if someone pronounces capital letters?" Jack asked, a frown spreading over his face.

"Read a book by…" he paused, pondering. "Um. I forget. Great guy. Went a bit over the top with the beard, but hey – really great guy." Jack closed his eyes, frustrated. It was like talking to a brick wall… that talked back.

"Doctor," Jack said, slowly. "What. Is. A. Reversal. Squad?"

"Aa-aah, see, now – you're using too many capitals. You should cut back; you can get addicted, you know."

Jack felt like slapping him. "Doc-tor. What is a Reversal Squad and please answer the question this time because if you don't I'm going to slap you and it will hurt and I will probably regre–"

"You worked for a Time Agency and you don't know what a Reversal Squad is?" the Doctor asked, flabbergasted. The question had only just seemed to register, and now he had an expression on his face that said 'I can't believe how stupid you are'.

Jack responded with an expression that said '…?'.

"Gosh Jack, you should read up on your history. Invented in the year two-thousand-and-ninety-five-fifty, a Reversal Squad is an intellectual and invigorating experience that the whole family can enjoy. Bring your friends along for a good time."

"Uh…?"

"Oh that was me, quoting the guidebook."

"Right."

"Left," the Doctor said, winking.

"You don't know, do you?" Jack asked, stating the obvious. He smirked.

"Not a dickey-bird," the Doctor said, smirking back. The Doctor's extensive knowledge all boiled down to a particularly distorted in-joke, in the end.

There was a moment of silence, in which both of them stood there, smiling to themselves. There obviously wasn't much to do here, seeing as they were in a big room with no doors. Good thing they had a Tardis, or else they'd never get out. The silence was fast turning from Companionable Silence to Awkward Silence. Jack had a thing about Awkward Silences. He always had to stand there and shuffle. So he did. The Doctor looked up at him.

"Wanna sit down?"

"On the floor?" He couldn't see any seats – so therefore, logical place to sit would be the floor.

"I have a sofa. Wanna get it? It's not too heavy."

"But… why? Why not leave and go somewhere with sofas already there?"

"Cos here's good, isn't it? It's warm and dry, perfect place for a sofa. Anyway, I need a sofa clearout. We could leave it here for the next people that come along. They'd want a sofa."

"Doctor, you think of the most… utterly surreal things…" He paused. "Sure, let's get your sofa."

The Doctor sat on the red velvet sofa, beside Jack. It was only a little sofa, so there was just enough room for the two of them. It was either designed for two very small people, or one very large person. Seeing as they were neither, they were rather crowded. The Doctor stood up to take his coat off, to ease the bulk. Jack followed suit, dumping their coats together in a pile. They sat back down, more comfortable now. Cue the Awkward Silence.

Jack sighed. That little sofa antic had provided them with precisely thirteen minutes of Awkward-less-ness. He leaned forward, clasping his hands together, elbows on his knees. He scuffled his shoe, squeaking it on the floor. He cleared his throat. He stayed silent for a few seconds, listening to the Doctor breathe.

"Jack," the Doctor said. It didn't sound like the start of a query. It sounded like a statement. Jack wasn't sure if he was meant to say anything. So Jack said nothing. He leaned back in the chair, turning to face the Doctor. Their legs were touching, just about.

"Jack, if I was a chocolate, what would I be?"

Jack blanked.

"All right then – if you were a chocolate, what would you be?"

Jack blinked.

"I bet you'd be some kind of white chocolate, with something gooey and sticky inside. Really sweet. With almonds on top. Little grated almonds. Perhaps some coconut. No, no – coconut all the way through. With something white and gooey, sticky. Warmed up, so it's hot."

At a loss of anything else to say, Jack said, "Why?"

"Can't you relate the 'hot, white and gooey' to something else?"

"…Are you being racist? 'Hot, white and gooey'? …and 'sticky'? What's white and gooey that I – …Oh."

"Now, see – the coconut – coconuts are technically nuts, but they're like fruit, so would that make you fruit or nut? But they don't put coconut into Fruit and Nut chocolate – at least, not until the 27th century. I have no idea why they didn't do it sooner, coconut is really good. Then again, they never put bananas into Fruit and Nut. Wow, that's insane. Who would have missed that one?"

"Doctor…?"

"Yes, Jack?"

"Why do you like fruit so much?"

The Doctor sighed, preparing for a long explanation. "In every great chocolate, there's – well, there should be – the fruit, and there's the nuts. I'm just trying to relate each of us to something we could both understand," he said, gesturing with his hands.

It struck Jack that Fruit and Nut chocolate really suited the Doctor's personality. Complete nutter.

The Doctor continued, "Now, you think about sex a lot, am I right?"

"What – uh, yeah sure, whatever – but what –"

"So that makes you the nuts. Or the… cream. Or something along those lines. And so, if we're companions, we're together, we are a combination of Nuts – that's you – and then you have to have the Fruit. That's me. And I'm the Fruit cos if you're the nuts, the balls, the testicles, the little hangy-sacks of… oh, you get it – then that makes me the banana. I'm sure your mind can figure that one out. –Oh, all right then, I'm a penis. I'm the practical part. Bananas are penises. And bananas are good.

"And oh – have you heard that saying that goes 'Time flies like an arrow, but fruit flies like bananas'?" I am both the 'time fly' and the 'fruit fly', cos I like both – Time Lord, plus the bananas… Do you get what I'm saying?"

"You're using a terrible chocolate-fruit-slash-phrase metaphor to talk about the male genitalia."

"I'm gay, Jack."

Jack blanked again. How could he possibly have gotten to that from that? The two things were completely unrelated! His eye twitched, utterly perplexed. "G–uh…"

The Doctor said nothing, but his stomach twist inside him. Was he even right about that? He couldn't say he was wrong. He was… left. For want of a better word. He was undecided. Perhaps. In a resolved, decisive way.

"O-okay then," Jack said, heaving a shallow sigh. He looked the Doctor in the eye, and smiled. "Cool."

"Umm…" the Doctor said, his voice wavering a little. "Jack – I – what the voice said, the other day..."

Jack's heart went THUD. He was hoping that subject would never be brought up, ever again. Ugh. Wishful thinking never got anyone anywhere. Except for a few times.

"Yeah, what about it?" Jack asked, his voice soft.

"What the thing said… about me –" he paused, changing his mind; "…actually, never mind. It doesn't matter."

Jack shook his head. Okay, wishful thinking just died. After all that, he wanted to talk about it. What did the Doctor want to say?

"Doctor? What were you going to say?"

"Doesn't matter, Jack."

"'Course it does! Go on, tell me," he urged, placing his hand affectionately on the Doctor's knee. After a second, the Doctor placed his hand atop Jack's. He slid his fingers between Jack's, rubbing gently, slowly. Jack's eyes lingered on their hands for a moment, and then cast themselves back to the Doctor's face. His eyes were gazed back steadily, but his expression vaguely solemn.

Swallowing, the Doctor said, in barely a whisper, "I want you."

Jack let his eyes explore the Doctor's – a beautiful brown, deep, filled with so much emotion. He really meant what he said.

Jack twisted his hand around; let it close around the Doctor's. He felt a thumb rubbing his palm – it felt nice; tiny but sensual. Sliding his fingertips over the Doctor's loose fist, he caressed his wrist, his forearm, on his way to the Doctor's shoulder. Right now was one of the moments in which he really despised clothing. Slipping his hand around the Doctor's warm neck, he leaned in to kiss him. He left a space between their lips, letting the Doctor complete the task.

The Doctor didn't even hesitate. He knew he wanted this. He knew they both did. Their lips met, tingling electricity fizzing around their touch. The Doctor pressed in, turning his head to the side. He could feel Jack's tongue nudging gently at his lip, stroking it. He let it in, welcomed it tenderly with his own. Warm, fuzzy feelings overloaded the Doctor's mind, urging him on. He reached up and cupped Jack's neck in his palm, pulling himself closer; Jack leant back on the armrest, letting the Doctor take control of the kiss.

The Doctor gasped as Jack's hand ran down his body, breaking the kiss for a moment to rock forward on top of him. They were laid down; Jack's back comfortably arched over the armrest of the sofa. The Doctor wriggled to kneel over Jack, straddling him. Jack's knees were bent at the other end of the sofa; there wasn't much room, but it was cosy. The Doctor rocked forward again, loving the feel of Jack's body rubbing against his. Jack had an air of masculinity; strong, dominant – and yet he let the Doctor have the upper hand, which, of course, he used to his advantage.

He let his hands go where he wanted; he could touch whatever he wanted. And Jack loved it – well, he was certainly responsive. Reaching between their apprehensively tense legs, the Doctor flicked his fingers over Jack's crotch. Jack trembled beneath the Doctor, pressing up gently. Their lips met again, with a little more force this time, a little more movement in their kiss. Every motion of their lips gave out a short sound from each of them – a groan, a sigh; or simply the sound of their lips crushing together, breaking apart.

Their kisses built to a crescendo within a matter of seconds – kissing was becoming a small feat, compared to what they could have, right there on the little sofa. Amidst quiet gasps of excitement (and slight lack of breath), the Doctor undid Jack's top button. Then he pulled away, just to see how Jack would react. That might have taken it too far. How far would Jack want to go?

Jack hardly even noticed. He pulled the Doctor back to his lips, mildly unappreciative of the pause. He bit down on the Doctor's bottom lip, sucking gently, before rolling straight back into the pulsating kiss that the Doctor couldn't help but enjoy. Eyes closed, the Doctor leant his forehead against Jack's. He held his mouth open above Jack's glossy wet lips, letting him lick, teasing with his tongue. Every sensual touch sent a pulse throbbing through his body, wanting nothing more than to be moulded to Jack's.

With a heartfelt groan, the Doctor pulled away from the kiss, fumbling with his fingers to undo Jack's buttons. Of all the times he'd ever had to do delicate work with his fingers, did now have to be a time when they didn't work? Gasping, desperate for the feel of skin against his, he gave up on Jack's shirt, deciding to work on his own jacket, with considerably bigger buttons. Now he thought about it, why buttons? What was wrong with zips?

Jack undid his own shirt with ease, not even struggling with his tight trouser fastenings. The Doctor, however, could not unbutton his own, having already (rather miraculously) undone his own shirt and tie, dropping them to the ground. Jack sat up to help, first wriggling out from under the Doctor to slip his trousers off. The Doctor got up off the sofa, almost collapsing under his own weight. His legs were wobbly, his whole body shaking. It wasn't used to this kind of thing. Jumping around, saving planets, people and other assorted civilisations, sure – but sex? Nuh-uh. Total shut-down of all motor skills.

Jack cradled the Doctor's body in his arms, hands around his waist. Ever so slightly, he pressed his hips into the Doctor's – the Doctor moaned, mouth open, eyes closed. If this was what being with Jack was like, no wonder people were practically queuing up.

Slipping a hand into the Doctor's trousers, Jack massaged the Doctor, smiling a little at the look in the Doctor's eyes. His pupils were so dilated that his irises had practically disappeared. He looked straight at Jack; their features all level with each other. Their lips were just brushing gently, hot breath on Jack's lips every time the Doctor let out a shaky breath. Jack was sure that if he squeezed… just a little… the Doctor would scream.

He squeezed.

"Aaaohh, Jack…" the Doctor cried, his eyes closing, eyebrows raised. His hands skated around at Jack's back, a thin layer of perspiration over his palms. Jack smiled, kissing him. The Doctor kissed back, taking Jack's hand in his own, pushing it deeper into his trousers. Jack caressed the Doctor through the thin material of his underwear, feeling him twitching in his hand.

"Jack," the Doctor whispered, skimming a fingertip over Jack's nipple, making him groan a little. The Doctor loved that sound, he realised. Not only the sound that Jack made, but just the sound of Jack's name. It seemed to roll off the tongue, no matter how sharp it was to say. It could be said numerous times in quick succession, and not have the speaker stumble on their words. The Doctor loved how his mouth formed the word in his mouth before he even said it. The more he thought about it, the more he loved it.

He gasped as Jack squeezed again, his mouth refusing to shut afterwards. It hung open, gasping for air but unable to take any in. He pressed his open lips to Jack's smooth shoulder, his tongue licking within its tooth-barred enclosure. He pressed his teeth lightly into Jack's flesh, reacting suddenly to a jerk of the hand from Jack. The Doctor was dying for Jack to touch him properly; he felt like the cloth of his underwear was taunting him for no reason.

He scooped Jack's fingers from out of his trousers, forcefully shoving them back down, this time into his underwear. The Doctor gasped again, his eyebrows practically jumping off his face. His mind was in such a state of blissful shock, he didn't notice when his trousers dropped to the floor of their own accord, or when Jack slipped his underwear off too, leaving him standing naked in the middle of the hall, Jack's own unclothed body a few short inches from his own. All the Doctor could hear now was his own laboured breathing; all he could see was the sharp image of Jack Harkness, his hand encasing and rubbing at the Doctor's stiffened 'fruit'. The Doctor swallowed, preparing himself for whatever it was he knew his body would do. His mind would have practically no control over it, it would just follow suit. His senses were taking over; thought now had no part to play.

Here goes.

The Doctor shoved Jack back into the sofa, collapsing on top of him; pounding his skinny hips into Jack like a baker might pound dough. There was no penetration – not yet. But the Doctor succeeded in making Jack moan again. He seemed generally quieter than the Doctor had previously imagined; the Doctor thought he might just reveal some roaring, groaning animal.

And unexpectedly, just as fast as the Doctor had pounced, Jack flipped the Doctor over. He pounded him back, the Doctor's legs too weak and wobbly to clutch onto Jack's back. He let himself be pummelled like a punching bag, incredible, rough sensations shooting through him like nothing he'd ever felt before. But, as always, no matter how great this was, they needed more. He wanted Jack to touch him inside as well as outside. A tongue in his mouth didn't go nearly far enough.

"Jah. Ah. Ack," the Doctor murmured, his voice thrown from his mouth and broken by the restless pounding. Nothing more was needed to make Jack understand; now was definitely a good time to do this properly – desperation was flooding Jack's mind like a pressure cooker with the lid sealed badly – as it were.

The Doctor moaned, still feeling Jack brushing his extremely stiffened penis. He let a hand tangle though Jack's hair as they caught their breath – and felt the cold air rush to his skin as Jack got up and left. The Doctor closed his eyes. He listened as Jack rummaged through his coat pockets, dropping various items onto the floor – one such making a rather repulsive splutt noise. A short sigh of triumph as Jack found what he was looking for, the warmth of Jack's body returning as he knelt above him once again. The Doctor kept his eyes closed, determined to remember this moment as a feeling rather than a thought. He had to let the passion of the moment pick up again before he could enjoy it. He smiled, feeling Jack's warm hands running over his slender thighs, deep between his legs, touching him gently. Cool, silky gel slid rather uncomfortably over his anus, a feeling that the Doctor would never be keen to replicate. The Doctor let Jack raise his legs above his body, feeling Jack lean on the backs of his thighs, feeling a large but pleasurably hot object filling his rectum – god, that was weird. The Doctor's mouth opened again, and again refused to shut. As Jack's whole body jerked back and forth once, in an experimental thrust, the Doctor's mouth was met by Jack's, their tongues touching timidly.

Again, harder this time, Jack pushed himself into the Doctor, ramming their flesh together; suddenly fast, hot – and rather squelchy, the Doctor thought – before remembering his vow not to think, only feel.

He felt Jack inside him, outside him, touching him everywhere. His mouth was a frantic war of tongues, his lower end being rammed into like a robot that walked into a wall, whose circuitry didn't include the instruction to turn around.

Hands roamed over the Doctor's torso, over his legs; a thin layer of sweat covered every part of him, heat encircling him like a bubble. Every wisp of scent his nose caught was so strong; he could smell pheromones falling away from Jack like electricity bouncing around in a storm. He could smell the lubricant, an unnatural smell, but calming – a kind of barrier to pain, protection of a sort.

The Doctor could smell semen, too. It smelt warm, a scent he wasn't all that familiar with, but he was positive he would get used to it. This whole… experience… it was new, yes, but it was like an old invisible friend had come back and hugged him – a real hug his time, not an invisible one, like he might have remembered.

The Doctor hugged Jack, opening his eyes for the first time. Jack's eyes were open too. His lips trembled above the Doctor as they broke their kiss. Jack pushed into the Doctor again, a hand braced against the arm rest of the sofa. They were both comfortable with the rhythm now, and the Doctor tried his best to relax. Jack's breath rushed past him with every thrust, swirling into the Doctor's open mouth. The Doctor groaned quietly as Jack took his penis in his hand, stroking it slowly with an open palm. The Doctor closed his eyes again, deciding he enjoyed it more that way.

He bit his lip in an effort not to whimper, the corners of his lips twitching into a small smile. His mouth automatically dropped open again as he sighed, his hand cocooned around the back of Jack's neck. Jack moaned, leaning his head into the Doctor's neck. The Doctor could feel sweat on Jack's face, a little sticky against his skin; he was so hot, their touch almost scalding the Doctor.

Angling himself upwards, Jack thrusted once more. The Doctor grunted, the sound followed by a gasp, then a sigh. His throat seemed to be jumping, unsure if it was breathing in or out. The Doctor shivered as Jack built up a rhythm again, harder and faster.

Jack let out a short breath with every thrust, a groan every so often. This was the best sex he'd ever had, and it had rendered him speechless. There was nothing he wanted more than to tell the Doctor how he was feeling – screaming would probably do it – but every time he tried to use his vocal chords, they failed him. All he found it possible to do was to push into the man before him, again and again and again. He wasn't even doing it consciously any more. It was automatic; his body was just doing what would feel good – for both of them.

The Doctor looked like he was having the time of his life; a healthy flush filled his cheeks, his hands were holding onto whatever part of Jack's body he could find. Jack could feel his heat at his neck, fingers twisting gently through his hair. The Doctor's legs were at his back, hugging him loosely. Jack pushed harder, needing more contact. His mind was wrapped up in the Doctor's body, the curve of every bone that protruded from his skinny frame, the way his hair flopped every time Jack thrusted, the expression of deep, happy thought on his face. What was he thinking about? Jack wondered.

The Doctor couldn't help it – he was thinking. He didn't want to think, but it just happened. What he was thinking was this: …Do I love Jack?

…Do I?

Jack pulled out of the Doctor seconds before he came – white, hot, sticky liquid spurted from him, covering the Doctor's torso to his shoulders. The Doctor opened his eyes to look at Jack, who pulled himself forward to kiss the Doctor. Their eyes met, for the first time since they'd started. The Doctor blinked, intentionally burning the image onto his retinas, and into his memories.

He pulled Jack down into the kiss, his tongue rolling over Jack's teeth, flicking at Jack's cheeks. Jack slid his hand back to the Doctor's penis, still hard, still desperate for release. Jack dragged a finger over it, feeling the Doctor shiver in his arms. The Doctor placed his palm on Jack's hip, rolling his head back to raise his own hips into Jack's. They rubbed gently, Jack feeling every inch of the Doctor twitching, dripping slightly, hot liquid drooling down Jack's body.

The Doctor gasped suddenly, hips kicking themselves upwards into Jack, creamy white come mingling with Jack's on his chest. The Doctor's voice crackled into life, and he groaned. Then he shuddered, and then he opened his eyes again.

He blinked slowly, and smiled. Jack smiled back, his hands trembling. They both relaxed atop each other, saying nothing. The Doctor craned his neck downwards and planted a sweet kiss on Jack's hot forehead. Jack nudged the Doctor's neck with his nose, smiling.

His smile would take a lot to remove, he decided. He'd just gotten what he's waited centuries to get, and he loved it even more than he thought he would. Even if the Doctor suddenly decided to reject him (which he doubted – not after that), the memory of minutes past would always be one of the best he had.

Do I?

The Doctor still pondered this question. He really didn't know. He'd known love, but this was different. This thing he'd just done with Jack, he'd never had this with anyone. It felt amazing – there was a mental connection there too, not just physical. Although… the physical was good enough on its own. It was better than amazing. For the first time in a very long time, the Doctor couldn't think of a word to describe how he felt.

Jack sighed, blissful and content. His legs were still crumpled at one end of the sofa, but he hadn't even realised. He cradled the Doctor's body, a finger stroking absent-mindedly at the Doctor's nipple. He had to say it, he knew it. If it wasn't now, he didn't know when his next opportunity would be. He could end up waiting another century, maybe longer. And the whole time he would regret not saying it now. He had to tell him.

"I love you, Doctor."

The Doctor heard him. He understood him. He believed him.

Should he reply?

And if so, what should he say?

Did he love him?

Did he?

Do I?

Okay - one "chapter" left - an epilogue, to be exact - and that SHOULD be up soon, but if it's not, it's because of one or more of these reasons:

1: For many long and complicated reasons, I can only write on Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays. And for only twenty minutes, on average, on each of those days.

2: I can't write if I'm sick.

2.5: If I'm sick - but not TOO sick, however - I CAN write. So you lot just better hope I get Relatively Sick more often.

3: Writers block. It happens to the best of us. ;)

4: Oh, and also - I was off on holiday. Which sucks. My advice -don't do it.

Again, thank you people. Thank you very, very much. And bear with me. I love you all :) [in the non-creepy way...]