Title: Starts with a Kiss
Author: Jinni
Pairing: Ten/Rose/Jack
Rated: NC-17
Disclaimer: All things Torchwood belong to RTD, the BBC, et al.
Notes: Spoilers for Doomsday and casting spoilers for end of s3, I suppose.
Notes2: Pornlet #1 for my May porn spree — for HebrewHernia on LJ, who wanted Ten/Rose/Jack and a scenario sort of like this....
Summary: It starts with a kiss as they're coming back inside the Tardis, Rose sandwiched between them.
Wordcount: 922

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It starts with a kiss as they're coming back inside the Tardis, Rose sandwiched between them. Takes some maneuvering to get them all through the door with her not willing to let go of his or Jack's hands, but they manage just the same. She's back. She's here with them, not off somewhere in an alternate universe where he'll never see her again, left only with memories and regrets that he can't put into words.

He turns, and maybe he's the one that starts it, because he can clearly remember looking down into Rose's eyes — shining bright with a mix of happiness from being back with them and sadness at leaving everyone else behind — and there's only one thing he can think of. Strange, that. All those thoughts that usually go zip-zipping through his brain and suddenly there's nothing but Rose and mouth and an urge to kiss her and make sure that she knows that this time he's not letting her go. Couldn't let her go again even if he tried.

So if he's the first to make a move, then Jack's the second, and that is a given, he supposes. The good Captain is nothing if not opportunistic, and the Doctor isn't oblivious. He knows how long Jack's wanted this, the two of them. Wants them. Loves them. Strange because they had so little time together that first go 'round, but what they'd had was fantastic and meaningful.

Jack's lips are nothing like Rose's. Where she's soft and hesitant, Jack is firm and demanding. Now, now, now, each press of his lips says against the Doctor's mouth, tongues tangling in wet, open-mouthed kisses that leave Jack, at least, breathless.

When hands fumble at his jacket, pushing it open to get to the shirt beneath, he knows they're Rose's without even looking, just from the way they move, their general size. She's still acting like she thinks this is going to end any second now, like one wrong move might make him back away and hide somewhere in the Tardis. Maybe he would have, once. Not now, though. Not when he has her back in front of him, living and breathing and reminding him what happens when he waits too long to say — and do — things that are important. And while he doesn't feel that strongly for Jack, he'd be lying if he said he felt nothing at all. That he hadn't mourned when he thought Jack was lost.

Clothes are starting to build up on the Tardis' floor, and Rose laughs as she stumbles over a shoe, catching herself by grabbing hold of Jack's arm, wobbling as she tries to regain her balance. The Doctor watches her laugh and it's perfect. From the color in her cheeks, to the slightly breathless sound of it. Lust and happiness.

Somewhere in the Tardis Martha is moping; has been since the minute him and Jack figured out how to get Rose back. That's his fault, he knows, though he tried repeatedly to let her down, make it clear there'd never be more than friendship, when really he should have just taken her on her one trip, perhaps two, and left her back with those loons she calls relatives.

He thinks, as he slides into Rose, the clothes on the metal grating cushioning their bodies, that this could all go south so quickly if Martha were to come find them. The three of them, naked on the floor doing things that no Time Lord should do with a companion.

Well, he's never really been one for sticking to the status quo, now has he?

Rose is writhing, panting. Gasping for breath with every hushed moan, even as she bites down on her lip, sucking it into her mouth. He thinks that should be someone's job other than hers, kissing her lip like that, but before he can lean in and do it himself, Jack is there to do it for him. And that's fine. That's good. Really, really good, because he's inside of Rose, and it's all the Doctor can do to just hang on and not have this all end before it begins.

There's no clear-cut memory for him of when Jack starts to take a more active role, nimble, experienced hands tracing the contours of Rose's body, then the Doctor's own. Patterns that are random traced out on sweat-slicked skin as he thrusts into Rose. The Tardis is a happy hum in the background, the music behind their gasps and grunts, moans and whispers.

They're saying things to each other. Oh, words, yes, of course. But behind those are the actions, which say so much more. Love yous that he still hasn't said out loud, going to keep you both this time - something he'll never actually say because it's too close to being a promise that he doesn't know if he'll be able to keep, no matter how hard he tries.

Time slows and races in alternating currents around them, until they're spent and lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling with half-shut eyes and parted mouths. The Doctor licks his lips and tastes RoseandJack.

And he smiles.

"C'mon, then," he orders in the midst of the afterglow. "Up and out of here before Martha comes looking."

They don't argue. Nor do they get dressed. They just gather their clothes. His too, he realizes, as he's tugged out of the control room and down corridors, towards a bedroom. His, Jack's, Rose's... it doesn't matter.

It'll be theirs soon enough.

END

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