‘Ah,’ thought Jack Harkness, ‘there’s nothing like the enthusiasm of a recovering closet-case.’ As he thought this, Jack snapped his hips three or four times in rapid succession, keeping himself sunk half way into the young man beneath him, holding back while driving his partner slightly out of his mind. Jack was good at that.

Said partner and recovering closet case, one Midshipman Alonso Frame, to be exact, shouted out Jack’s name, cursed his local deity, (feeling sure that the local deity would fully understand), and then stuttered out a few breathy moans and groans as Jack found a short staccato rhythm and began drumming out a tattoo on his prostate. He pumped his hips madly to meet Jack thrust for thrust and clutched frantically at the sheets on the bed.

‘Oh, yeah,’ thought Jack, lost in the shallow penetration rhythm they’d established, ‘Captain Jack is back.’ He’d kept his hands plastered to his partner’s thighs until now, stroking warm skin, clutching when the muscles shivered in his grip. Now, though, he released them and leaned forward, one hand running over a strong, lightly furred chest, the other grasping Alonso’s slippery, impossibly hard cock.

Alonso found more choice words for his deity and tried to get Jack to go deeper, to stroke faster. He was so close and he cried out Jack’s name again. But Jack was holding back, shiny white grin almost feral in a sweaty face, teasing his partner, and teasing himself a little too; enjoying prolonging the pleasure he’d been denying himself for so long.

Giving credence to the old saying ‘swear like a sailor’, Alonso cursed roundly and with all of his pre-orgasmic strength, he shoved upwards, tipping Jack over, first onto his knees, then onto his back. 

Jack felt himself slip free of the other man and let out a squawk of protest. Half way through, Alonso crushed the sound with his mouth, demanding a greedy kiss.

Jack turned his head away to avoid it and struggled under the other man’s weight until his legs were stretched out, not bent beneath him. His arms were between them and his hands were pressed to Alonso’s chest. He wasn’t actually pushing, but the young sailor was moving away anyway.

“Hey!” Jack’s protest was more verbal this time, but cut off just as abruptly as the first one when Alonso sat back on his haunches, gave Jack a saucy grin and pushed himself down on Jack’s cock.

Jack’s groan of lust was drowned out by the satisfied noises Alonso was making as he lowered himself slowly, but not too slowly, down the entire length of Jack’s cock, finally seating himself completely in Jack’s lap. He gave Jack another cheeky grin and whispered, “allons-y”.

Jack laughed breathlessly and tried an experimental upwards thrust. Alonso rose, the fell back down with a shout. It felt so good that Jack did it again. Up... Down… And again. Up. Down. He reached for the other man’s cock and gave it a short hard stroke. Up. Down. And then let Alonso push himself through his fist as he pumped his hips quick and even. Up. Down. Up. Down. Alonso bore down on him and Jack pistoned his hips furiously. Updownupdownupdown—

Alonso tried unsuccessfully to brush Jack’s hand away by grinding down on Jack’s cock and coming with a flaring of all the muscles in his body: his cock jerked in Jack’s fist, hot and wet; a tiny tic appeared in his jaw; and his arse clamped round Jack’s cock like a velvet vice-grip.

“Oh, yes! Oh—“ Jack’s own orgasm caused him to cry out his lover’s name over and over as he thrashed under the weight of the man above him.

After many shuddering, groaning, sticky minutes, Alonso rose up and threw himself off of Jack to land with a moan on the bed beside him. He shifted a little, rolled a little and swiped ineffectively at the mess on his chest.

Jack lay back with a sigh, a smug smile on his face as he gazed up at the ceiling and listened to the man next to him coming down from orgasm in a series of little moans and hitching breaths. ‘Oh, yeah,’ he thought. ‘I’m moving on. The Doctor was right.’

Alonso sat up abruptly and reached for a pack of cigarettes on the end table. He offered the pack to Jack, who shook his head, and then took one for himself. Lighting it, he turned to Jack and said,

“So, who’s this Ianto bloke all your shoutin’s for?”