Author's Notes: Thanks again to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, including the guest reviews I can't reply to. I know some of you are confused with aspects of the story, but hopefully it will make sense in due course. At this stage there's at least ten chapters to go, so there's still a fair bit yet to come. A special thanks to Prothrombintime for taking the time to read this chapter not once but twice, and for always so generously offering encouragement and feedback. Enjoy!
Chapter Forty-Five
October 31st, 2008
Jack was lying on his side, his head propped up on one hand, and smiling softly as he studied the naked body sprawled out beside him. Dylan's eyes were closed, his right arm thrown back behind his head, and his chest moved rhythmically with his relaxed, steady breathing. The subdued, fading light of the late afternoon trickled into the bedroom from the edges of the curtained window, and Dylan's pale skin, sweat-dampened and sticky from their recent activities, seemed to shine with an almost ethereal glow.
Jack slowly teased his fingers through the exposed mass of thick, damp hair adorning Dylan's armpit, then traced a languid path across the Welshman's chest and down to his abdomen. He loved touching and exploring the other man, and although Dylan was already deliciously dishevelled, Jack couldn't help taking perverse pleasure in making him just a little bit messier. It thrilled him to see the usually impeccably neat and tidy young man come undone and reduced to a state of debauched abandonment, and he couldn't help taking just a little bit of smug satisfaction in the knowledge that he was responsible for the stunning transformation.
"Having fun?" Dylan asked wryly, not opening his eyes.
"Oh, yeah," Jack replied with a grin. "You know how much I enjoy touching you."
He teased the indentation of Dylan's navel, then ran his fingers upwards, following the trail of dark, matted hair to where it was thickest at the centre of Dylan's chest. "And I love all this gorgeous hair. It's incredibly sexy." He sighed with contentment, caressing his way back down to the base of Dylan's abdomen. "Of course, I'll stop if you want me to."
Dylan opened his eyes briefly. "No. Don't... at least, not yet." He exhaled a soft sigh. "I've never been with anyone so, er... tactile before. It's... nice... very nice."
Jack couldn't deny that he'd always been a very tactile lover, enjoying the shared closeness and intimacies, especially when it was someone he genuinely cared about, and not just a random stranger he'd never see again. And he'd quickly discovered that beneath Dylan's reserved exterior there was a deeply sensual, passionate young man, but a man who perhaps hadn't had the benefit of a like-minded partner to help him explore and nurture that carefully guarded aspect of himself. Jack was a little surprised to realise how privileged he felt to be the person Dylan was allowing and trusting to do that.
He gave a playful bite to the soft skin at the junction of Dylan's neck and shoulder. "You just can't get enough of me, can you?"
Dylan's only reply was a derisive snort. Jack chuckled and rested his head on the Welshman's chest, continuing to lazily caress the warm, slick flesh below. He pressed his face against Dylan's neck and inhaled deeply, savouring the man's natural masculine scent, and enjoying the way it combined with the lingering hint of Dylan's aftershave – a subtle and alluring mix of citrus, spice and fragrant woods, with the barely perceptible hint of a vanilla undertone. Like the man himself, it was a wonderfully heady, intoxicating combination.
They'd been virtually inseparable since their first night together eight days earlier, and Jack had spent every night with Dylan, happily sharing the other man's bed. He'd relocated his meagre possessions to a hotel closer to Dylan's apartment for convenience, but he hadn't actually spent a night in the new hotel yet, simply using the room as a place to keep his things and to shower and change.
They spent their days wandering the city, sometimes taking in various attractions, going to the cinema, or even indulging in some shopping. They'd spent several hours exploring Harrods one afternoon, and Dylan had even managed to coerce Jack into accompanying him to a repeat viewing of the new Bond film. Jack had been somewhat disappointed when his attempts to grope the younger man in the darkness of the cinema had been met with disapproval, his roaming hands firmly battered away on his every attempt.
During their Harrods trip, Dylan had come to an abrupt halt in front of the display of a particularly fine, three-piece, charcoal grey pinstriped suit. The look on the younger man's face had been what Jack could only describe as wistful longing. Thinking the suit would look spectacular on the Welshman's tall, lean body, he'd encouraged Dylan to try it on, but the younger man had simply shook his head, smiled weakly, then turned away. Jack had continued to stare at the suit for several more moments, the sight having evoked the now familiar tingling sensation at the edges of his mind.
They ate lunch in various parks around the city when the weather was accommodating, they'd dined out twice at a couple of nearby restaurants, and Dylan had cooked for them several times, proving himself to be efficient and capable in the kitchen. And just like the current afternoon, they'd spent many lazy hours during the day in Dylan's bedroom, hidden away from the world and losing themselves in the pleasure of each other's bodies.
To Jack's delight, their sexual activities had rapidly progressed to include intercourse, with Dylan showing surprisingly little reticence in embracing that particular milestone in his sexual enlightenment. Jack had been so turned on by the thought of having Dylan deep inside him that their first time, while intensely pleasurable, had been over almost embarrassingly quickly. Fortunately they'd had plenty of practice since then, and having taken the time to learn every aspect of each other's bodies, they'd become exceptionally comfortable together, discovering how to extract every nuance of pleasure from one another.
Dylan had proven himself to be a skilled and considerate lover. He was selfless in his desire to give pleasure, fastidious in every detail, and surprisingly open-minded and trusting. Beyond a moment of trepidation when Jack had entered him for the first time, he'd shown no further indication that he was struggling with being in a sexual relationship with another man. Jack admired the younger man, and the realisation that Dylan's sexual appetite was substantial and an equal match for his own voracious desires was also a surprising, but extremely welcome discovery. They couldn't seem to get enough of each other, and Dylan continued to surprise and fascinate him. For a man who had lived as long as Jack, that was an exceptionally uncommon occurrence.
As impossible as it seemed, Jack had suddenly found himself in a rare little bubble of happiness. There was no Torchwood, no responsibilities and gut-wrenching decisions, no death and destruction, no interminable waiting for the Doctor, no soul-destroying loneliness and despair. Not since his carefree days of travelling with the Doctor and Rose had he felt like an impossibly heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. At last he was free, and most importantly, he wasn't alone anymore.
However, the more cynical side of his nature wondered how long it could last. Nothing good had ever lasted for him, and as much as he wanted to hope this time could be different – that fate had dealt him a winning hand just this once – he was frightened it would end the same way it always had in the past... with him alone once more, his tortured soul torn to shreds. He'd fallen hard, completely enthralled by the handsome young Welshman, and he couldn't deny that Dylan, in his quiet, unassuming way, was steadily forging himself a place deep within his heart.
"James..." Dylan murmured, pulling Jack out of his introspection.
He felt a twinge of guilt each time Dylan used his new name, and he'd wondered several times if he should come clean about his identity. Captain Jack Harkness belonged firmly in the past, but he'd been Jack for so long, and he was having trouble letting go. A part of him longed to hear Dylan call him Jack instead of James. He'd tried to imagine how that one simple word would sound in Dylan's beautiful, melodious accent.
"You're, uh... you're not planning to leave, are you?" Dylan continued, his voice soft and uncertain.
"Why would I leave?" Jack asked in confusion, lifting his head to peer at Dylan's face, his eyes now open and gazing intently at Jack.
Dylan shrugged slightly, lowering his eyes to where Jack's hand was resting on his stomach. "I know this is still new... and of course I'm not asking you for anything... it's just..." He sighed quietly, seeming reluctant to continue. "I worry I'll wake up one day and you'll be gone," he finally admitted. "After all, you're living in a hotel."
Jack had to acknowledge that his transient accommodations didn't exactly inspire confidence. He considered his words carefully before replying. "When I arrived here in London I wasn't sure what I wanted to do... if I was going to stay... where I was going to go. I was just trying to get through one day at a time. But that was before I met you."
Dylan's eyes shifted up to meet his again, and Jack placed a soft kiss against the younger man's lips. "As long as you want me around," he continued. "I'm not going anywhere. You don't need to worry about that, okay?"
A look of relief passed over Dylan's features. "Okay. Maybe you could get a place nearby, then?"
"Yeah, I was thinking about that too," Jack agreed. "I can't live in a hotel room indefinitely." He looked at Dylan uncertainly. "Sure you wouldn't mind if I'm somewhere close by?"
"No, of course not," Dylan replied. His lips twitched with a wry smile. "I think it's pretty obvious that I like having you around."
Jack smiled gratefully. "The feeling's entirely mutual. Okay, I'll start looking for something."
In truth, he wasn't sure about the idea of settling down in London. The bustle and excitement of a big city wasn't as appealing to him as it would once have been. He'd been thinking about finding somewhere quiet, perhaps on the coast... somewhere peaceful that reminded him of Boeshane. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to stay in England, and he couldn't return to Wales, at least not to Cardiff and the surrounding areas.
He wasn't sure where he belonged, but he wondered if perhaps that didn't matter anymore. Gazing into the warm blue depths of Dylan's eyes and experiencing the increasingly familiar rush of intense affection, he considered that perhaps he was exactly where he was meant to be.
He pressed a kiss to Dylan's chest, wrapping his arms around the younger man and holding him close. They were silent for several minutes, and his thoughts drifted, his senses filled with the warm, comfortable presence of the other man.
"Dylan, tell me about your dreams... your plans," he murmured. As much as he wanted to just enjoy the here and now, he couldn't help wondering if it might be possible for them to have a real future together. "What do you want?"
Dylan didn't respond immediately. "I'm not sure," he finally replied. "I thought I knew what I wanted. I suppose I did for a while. But now..." He trailed off and was silent for a long moment. Then he let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. "I've thought about trying my hand at writing a book. Some sort of spy story. I've got a few ideas. I know it sounds daft..."
"No, it doesn't. Not at all." Jack smiled, brushing his lips against Dylan's neck and thinking the younger man's pedantic and fastidious nature would serve him well in weaving elaborate, detailed storylines. "That Bond obsession of yours might come in handy."
Dylan huffed indignantly. "It's not an obsession... just a healthy interest."
"Of course it is," Jack agreed, unable to hide the amusement from his voice, and certain that Dylan was rolling his eyes at him.
"I've thought about travelling a bit," Dylan continued in a thoughtful tone. "I've never been anywhere except Wales and London. Might be nice to see some of the world."
"Where would you like to go?" Jack asked curiously.
"Don't know. Anywhere, I suppose. Maybe Italy or France to start with. Perhaps Holland or Switzerland. Then maybe Spain or even somewhere like the Caribbean or Egypt." Dylan exhaled a wistful little sigh. "I'd just like to see some of what's out there. I've never had the chance to do that before."
"Well, there's nothing stopping you." Jack paused uncertainly, worried that Dylan might decide just to up and leave one day soon. "You're young and you don't have any ties," he continued, trying to sound encouraging. "Might as well enjoy yourself."
"Yeah, I suppose," Dylan murmured in a non-committal tone.
"I'd come with you if you wanted me to." The words were out of Jack's mouth before he'd realised the implications of what he was saying. He had to remind himself that he'd only known Dylan for a little less than two weeks. Inexplicably, it seemed like they'd known each other for so much longer.
"You would?" Dylan asked, clearly surprised. "Just like that?"
"Sure, why not," Jack replied. "If you wanted company that is," he added quickly, not wanting Dylan to think he was getting too clingy. Although, he suspected it was probably a little too late to be worried about that particular point.
"I... I'd like that." Dylan's response was tentative, but his tone didn't sound insincere. "Not much fun travelling on your own."
"No, it's not," Jack agreed, pleased that Dylan seemed receptive to the idea. He shifted so he could look into Dylan's eyes again. "Maybe give it some thought?" he suggested, excited by the prospect of taking off to some foreign destination with his new friend and lover. "Think about where you might like to go first... maybe a short trip to start with to whet your appetite?"
Dylan gave him a warm smile. "All right." Placing a hand on the back of Jack's head, he pulled Jack closer and kissed him tenderly.
Jack smiled against Dylan's lips and kissed him back, then moved so he was lying on top of the other man. He pressed the full length of their bodies together, causing them both to groan with pleasure. "Want to have sex again?" he asked cheekily, feeling Dylan responding rapidly beneath him.
Dylan groaned again, moving his hips to rub himself against Jack. "You're insatiable."
"And you're not?" Jack asked with amusement.
"Must be your aftershave," Dylan muttered.
Jack grinned smugly. "Never wear any."
Dylan's eyes widened. "You smell like that naturally?" he asked, looking up at Jack with an expression that seemed to be a mixture of awe and disbelief.
"Yup," Jack replied, having to resist the urge to make a quip about fifty-first century pheromones.
Dylan seemed lost for words. "Huh."
Jack laughed and captured Dylan's mouth in a hungry kiss. Not breaking contact, Dylan rolled them over so he was on top of Jack, taking control of the kiss and pressing his tongue deep into Jack's mouth, exploring insistently. Jack felt a rush of excitement, loving when the Welshman's more dominant side came out to play. He traced his hands down the smooth flesh of Dylan's back, resting them on the firm buttocks below, before gently spreading them apart and teasing a finger over the sensitive ring of muscle. Dylan moaned into Jack's mouth in response, a shudder rippling along his body.
Dylan pulled away and positioned himself above Jack, bracing himself with one hand and lining up Jack's erection with the other. He lowered himself onto Jack, his eyes drifting closed as he moaned softly, and not stopping until he'd taken Jack's entire length inside him. Jack gasped with pleasure as the tight heat surrounded him. Dylan was still slick from their earlier coupling, and Jack was momentarily overwhelmed by the intense sensation.
Opening his eyes again, Dylan began moving against Jack in a slow, easy rhythm. Jack ran his hands over Dylan's torso, teasing the sensitive nipples in the way he knew the younger man enjoyed. He watched, utterly captivated, as Dylan began stroking himself, his head thrown back and his features taking on an expression of unrestrained abandonment. Jack wondered if he'd ever seen a more magnificent sight.
Their eyes met, and as Jack stared at Dylan with desire and affection, he knew with an astonishing degree of certainty that he'd found everything he needed and wanted. He'd found salvation, and more profoundly, he'd found the one thing he longed for, but hadn't been sure he was still capable of feeling. He'd found love.
###
The following day, Jack was standing at the door of Dylan's apartment, bouncing back and forward on the balls of his feet as he waited impatiently. He was almost giddy with excitement, a state that, if he'd stopped to think about it, wasn't particularly dignified for a man who was almost one-hundred and seventy-six years old.
Finally, Dylan opened the door, smiled at him, and ushered him inside.
Jack took a moment to feast his eyes on the sight before him. Dylan was dressed in faded jeans and a snug dark blue t-shirt, and his hands were sheathed in bright yellow rubber gloves. There was a cute little smudge of dirt on his nose, and somehow the younger man managed to look both insanely hot and completely adorable at the same time. It was only by summoning every ounce of his self-control that Jack managed to resist grabbing hold of the Welshman, stripping him naked, and dragging him into the bedroom.
He leaned in and kissed Dylan firmly on the lips. "I've got a surprise."
Dylan raised an eyebrow, looking at him curiously. "Er... you're moving in?"
Jack frowned in confusion, then remembered the travel bag he had slung over his shoulder. "Oh." He dropped it unceremoniously to the floor. "No. Sorry." He reached into his jacket and extracted a plain white envelope, thrusting it at the other man. "Here."
Dylan stared down at the innocuous envelope suspiciously, and Jack's excitement faltered as he wondered if he was being too impulsive. Dylan wasn't a spontaneous person for the most part. Instead, he was someone who seemed to consider things from every angle before reaching a well thought out conclusion. In that respect he was very unlike Jack, and although Jack's impulsive nature had been greatly dampened by his long association with Torchwood, he could still have his moments.
Then he remembered the first kiss they'd shared. Even now, the memory of that spectacular kiss sent a rush of blood to one of his favourite parts of his anatomy. Despite Dylan's reserved nature, he was certainly capable of moments of impulsiveness too. But Jack had decided that the younger man needed a little more spontaneity in his life, and he was more than willing to oblige. "Go on," he urged, flapping the envelope impatiently. "It won't bite."
Dylan slowly removed his gloves and took the envelope, gingerly lifting the flap and extracting the contents. "Train tickets?" he asked, looking up at Jack with a puzzled frown.
Jack beamed at him. "Yup. Pack a bag Dylan Evans. We're going to Paris."