Entry tags:
FIC: A Very Small Number of Immortal Beings
Title: A Very Small Number of Immortal Beings
Rating: for grown-ups
Length: 1870 words
Pairing: Jack Harkness/M
Summary: If you're stuck being immortal, you may as well make the most of it.
Notes: Background thanks to Ministars; beta thanks to![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ellen_fremedon, who owed me, after she planted the idea in my head.
At AO3 here, or read it below.
Jack liked this cantina. Well-stocked bar, medium-dim lighting, and staff who never asked questions. Throw in a soundtrack that reminded him of Earth in the late thirties and he was happy to sit there pretty much forever. Place was the kind of crossroads nine out of ten cities in the old Milky Way could only aspire to, which means you got literally all kinds. Forget going home with a different person every night; Jack could go home with a different species every night, and twice on Sundays—whatever 'Sunday' meant out here—and never get bored, because by the time he'd tried them all he'd be ready to begin again. If you're stuck being immortal, might as well make the best of it.
He hooked the heel of his boot over the rung of his bar stool and looked around the room. Great thing about the sort of date you picked up in a crossroads cantina was that they were the sort who picked up dates in crossroads cantinas. Even if they seemed more respectable than—well, than him. When the Doctor had introduced him to that midshipman, the kid had sure looked like he was ... a nice young man in a well-cut suit. Well-cut uniform. But Jack had known Alonso's name before they ever spoke, and Alonso hadn't known Jack's name until after the first time they'd fucked. Jack guessed he'd never stop learning that you never knew. He smiled.
Over the rim of his glass, he made eye contact with someone who had evidently been looking at him for a minute or two. Jack raised one eyebrow, sipped his drink, and nodded slightly to the space next to him. The person looked at something in its hand, then back up at Jack, and made its way toward him through the crowd. It was very tall, with a hairless head that was flatter than most, and the small slits of eyes you had when you lived somewhere with a bright, bright sun. The eyes were set widely apart and fairly high in its face; the combined effect was that it appeared to be sneering down its nose at everyone it passed by. In the dimness of the cantina, of course, who knew if it could even see them.
The blue lights from the bar reflected off the tall figure's skin, but as it drew nearer Jack could see that it wasn't just the blue light—it was grey-green, which usually made a person look sort of peaky to Jack's eyes, but this individual had managed to nurture its face to a radiantly healthy shade of grey-green. Jack gave an appreciative look up and down the length of his new friend as it approached. It was clearly a long, lean body behind those fancy gold robes, but beyond that he couldn't tell much. He was instantly determined to correct that. 'Hi there', he said. 'Haven't seen you in here before.'
The grey-green person peered at him, down at the thing in its hand, and back at him again. The thing seemed to be a document of some kind, but from where he was sitting Jack couldn't tell if he could read the script. 'Jack Harkness?' the person asked. (Medium-low voice. Sounded like it was resonating in the chest rather than the head. In binary-sexed species, Jack would guess this was a male, but Jack had no idea how many sexes of this particular grey-green species there were. Maybe he'd ask, if they got that far. If it seemed to matter.) His head tilted just slightly. 'Captain Jack Harkness?'
'The one and only.' Jack gave his most brilliant smile and reached out to pretend to adjust the collar of the fancy gold robe. 'Who's asking?'
'—'
'No, wait,' Jack decided suddenly. 'You know what, don't tell me.' He pulled his grey-green buddy closer by the front of his robe and whispered in his ear. 'I don't need to know who you are.'
The creature had placed a long, thin hand on Jack's elbow for balance, when he'd pulled him in, rather than leaning on the bar. He pushed himself away enough to see Jack's face, but left his hand where it was and squeezed Jack's arm. Green didn't appear to have eyebrows, but some of his facial muscles shifted slightly and he definitely blinked.
'Do I,' Jack said, trusting that Green would understand that he wasn't actually asking. He pressed the inside of his knee against approximately where Green's hip would be assuming he was proportioned roughly like most other bipedals. 'You're not in town for long, are you?' He leaned around to whisper in Green's other ear, or at least breathe on the other side of his neck, and tightened his hand in the front of the gold robe. 'But you're not in a rush. Let's not worry about who you are. Or who I am. Or anything.' He almost, but not quite, brushed his lips against the corner of Green's jaw. 'What do you say.'
Green blinked again and drew a deep breath through his nose. 'Very well.'
Jack grinned, almost-but-not-quite grazed his jaw against Green's again, and hopped down from his bar stool to stand close enough to break the drape of Green's robe. Green's note had disappeared back into his sleeve or somewhere, and Green took hold of the lapel of Jack's coat. Jack found that he was only about half a head shorter than Green, whose height was apparently enhanced by his slenderness. Jack himself was undoubtedly bigger, though. Hard to say how this was going to go. He couldn't wait.
He slid his arm around Green's waist. 'Your place or mine?' he asked with a wink.
Green may even have smiled. 'Yours, I think.' He inhaled again.
The idea that Green was smelling him—his old wool coat, his drink, his hair gel, his yellow-pink skin—was ridiculously exciting. 'You got it.' He kept his hand wound in the front of Green's gold robe as he led him to the cantina door.
As it turned out, under that robe Green was made mostly of legs, with broad bony shoulders, a chest with slight horizontal ridges, and a very short waist. His arms and legs were very long, and the cool, soft skin on the insides of his elbows and what there was of his belly was nearly silver. Jack investigated all of it with his hands, his mouth, and the scruff on his chin. Green didn't say much, but he gasped and sighed encouragingly and, when Jack sucked hard on his oddly-hinged hip, fluttered a long-fingered hand over Jack's head and shoulder and head again. Jack did it again, and Green patted at his head desperately and twisted his fingers in Jack's hair. Green's legs crossed behind Jack's shoulders; his feet had very high arches, and he didn't like Jack licking them. Also, at least by human standards, he was definitely male.
Jack had just bitten his way up the endless length of Green's left leg and opened his mouth to see what his cock tasted like when Green did a surprising sort of spring and flip and pinned Jack quite firmly at the knees and wrists. He had been quizzically interested, earlier, by the many pieces of Jack's clothing. Now he seemed fascinated by Jack's sturdier body and more heavily-muscled limbs. Jack's navel was particularly intriguing, as was all of his hair; Green sniffed it all, eyes shut, mouth dropping open, and finally Jack tugged one of his hands free and dragged Green toward him by the back of the neck and kissed his mouth—he didn't know if kissing was something Green's people did, if he even knew how to do it, but Jack's people did it, all right, and he groaned and sealed their mouths together and held on.
Green did indeed know how to kiss. He let Jack up and got one hand into his hair; they wound their arms around each other and rolled a couple of times, sorting out whose legs best went where, and suddenly they broke the kiss to heave simultaneous shuddering breaths as they found the optimal position for both their cocks at once. Their disparity in height and body structure meant that Jack's cock was pressed against Green's leg almost at the knee, while Green's was pressed against Jack's belly almost at the rib—but here they were both after the same thing, and they worked out their rhythm and soon Jack was whimpering into Green's collarbone and convulsing as he came. A minute later Green's eyes opened as wide as Jack had yet seen them, and he gave a subvocal moan and Jack felt a tingling sort of splash on his chest. He kissed Green again as they moved to lie on their sides. He thought he saw Green's eyes fall shut just as he drifted to sleep himself, their legs crisscrossed together.
Green was in no rush at all to depart, in the event. Over the course of the night, between short restorative naps, Jack and Green exhausted nearly Jack's entire imaginative repertoire, along with one or two things Green did to him that it wouldn't even have occurred to him could be done. Green liked it best when Jack fucked him, face to face, with Green's long legs wrapped right around Jack's shoulders. Jack liked it best spooned in front of Green, with Green's cock pressed against his back, while Green stroked the outside of his cock with one hand and the inside of his ass with the other; Green's long fingers found places nobody had touched in a long time. By morning they were both all in, too worn out to do anything but smile weakly and twist their fingers together as they tumbled, finally, to sleep.
Jack awoke when Green rose. He watched him move long-limbed and silent over to where he had dropped his boots and shed his robe. In a moment, he was dressed again, and checking in what were apparently a variety of pockets to make sure he had all his belongings. He pulled out the note he'd been consulting in the cantina the night before; Jack imagined that in the steadier light of this room, it was much easier for him to read.
'Morning,' Jack said.
Green nodded and looked at his document again. From another pocket he produced a stylus of some kind.
'Guess this means you've got to go,' Jack said. 'Too bad. Can't interest you in one more for the road?'
Green glanced back at him. 'Jack Harkness,' he said.
'That's me.'
'Captain Jack Harkness—the second.'
'Well, technically, yes, since you mention it.'
The tall grey-green person in the extravagantly draped golden robe raised one non-eyebrow at Jack and lifted one shoulder in the merest suggestion of a shrug. 'I've had better,' he said. Then he made a mark on his document; folded it back into his sleeve; and, before Jack could even parse the words, disappeared through the door.
Rating: for grown-ups
Length: 1870 words
Pairing: Jack Harkness/M
Summary: If you're stuck being immortal, you may as well make the most of it.
Notes: Background thanks to Ministars; beta thanks to
ellen_fremedon, who owed me, after she planted the idea in my head.At AO3 here, or read it below.
Jack liked this cantina. Well-stocked bar, medium-dim lighting, and staff who never asked questions. Throw in a soundtrack that reminded him of Earth in the late thirties and he was happy to sit there pretty much forever. Place was the kind of crossroads nine out of ten cities in the old Milky Way could only aspire to, which means you got literally all kinds. Forget going home with a different person every night; Jack could go home with a different species every night, and twice on Sundays—whatever 'Sunday' meant out here—and never get bored, because by the time he'd tried them all he'd be ready to begin again. If you're stuck being immortal, might as well make the best of it.
He hooked the heel of his boot over the rung of his bar stool and looked around the room. Great thing about the sort of date you picked up in a crossroads cantina was that they were the sort who picked up dates in crossroads cantinas. Even if they seemed more respectable than—well, than him. When the Doctor had introduced him to that midshipman, the kid had sure looked like he was ... a nice young man in a well-cut suit. Well-cut uniform. But Jack had known Alonso's name before they ever spoke, and Alonso hadn't known Jack's name until after the first time they'd fucked. Jack guessed he'd never stop learning that you never knew. He smiled.
Over the rim of his glass, he made eye contact with someone who had evidently been looking at him for a minute or two. Jack raised one eyebrow, sipped his drink, and nodded slightly to the space next to him. The person looked at something in its hand, then back up at Jack, and made its way toward him through the crowd. It was very tall, with a hairless head that was flatter than most, and the small slits of eyes you had when you lived somewhere with a bright, bright sun. The eyes were set widely apart and fairly high in its face; the combined effect was that it appeared to be sneering down its nose at everyone it passed by. In the dimness of the cantina, of course, who knew if it could even see them.
The blue lights from the bar reflected off the tall figure's skin, but as it drew nearer Jack could see that it wasn't just the blue light—it was grey-green, which usually made a person look sort of peaky to Jack's eyes, but this individual had managed to nurture its face to a radiantly healthy shade of grey-green. Jack gave an appreciative look up and down the length of his new friend as it approached. It was clearly a long, lean body behind those fancy gold robes, but beyond that he couldn't tell much. He was instantly determined to correct that. 'Hi there', he said. 'Haven't seen you in here before.'
The grey-green person peered at him, down at the thing in its hand, and back at him again. The thing seemed to be a document of some kind, but from where he was sitting Jack couldn't tell if he could read the script. 'Jack Harkness?' the person asked. (Medium-low voice. Sounded like it was resonating in the chest rather than the head. In binary-sexed species, Jack would guess this was a male, but Jack had no idea how many sexes of this particular grey-green species there were. Maybe he'd ask, if they got that far. If it seemed to matter.) His head tilted just slightly. 'Captain Jack Harkness?'
'The one and only.' Jack gave his most brilliant smile and reached out to pretend to adjust the collar of the fancy gold robe. 'Who's asking?'
'—'
'No, wait,' Jack decided suddenly. 'You know what, don't tell me.' He pulled his grey-green buddy closer by the front of his robe and whispered in his ear. 'I don't need to know who you are.'
The creature had placed a long, thin hand on Jack's elbow for balance, when he'd pulled him in, rather than leaning on the bar. He pushed himself away enough to see Jack's face, but left his hand where it was and squeezed Jack's arm. Green didn't appear to have eyebrows, but some of his facial muscles shifted slightly and he definitely blinked.
'Do I,' Jack said, trusting that Green would understand that he wasn't actually asking. He pressed the inside of his knee against approximately where Green's hip would be assuming he was proportioned roughly like most other bipedals. 'You're not in town for long, are you?' He leaned around to whisper in Green's other ear, or at least breathe on the other side of his neck, and tightened his hand in the front of the gold robe. 'But you're not in a rush. Let's not worry about who you are. Or who I am. Or anything.' He almost, but not quite, brushed his lips against the corner of Green's jaw. 'What do you say.'
Green blinked again and drew a deep breath through his nose. 'Very well.'
Jack grinned, almost-but-not-quite grazed his jaw against Green's again, and hopped down from his bar stool to stand close enough to break the drape of Green's robe. Green's note had disappeared back into his sleeve or somewhere, and Green took hold of the lapel of Jack's coat. Jack found that he was only about half a head shorter than Green, whose height was apparently enhanced by his slenderness. Jack himself was undoubtedly bigger, though. Hard to say how this was going to go. He couldn't wait.
He slid his arm around Green's waist. 'Your place or mine?' he asked with a wink.
Green may even have smiled. 'Yours, I think.' He inhaled again.
The idea that Green was smelling him—his old wool coat, his drink, his hair gel, his yellow-pink skin—was ridiculously exciting. 'You got it.' He kept his hand wound in the front of Green's gold robe as he led him to the cantina door.
As it turned out, under that robe Green was made mostly of legs, with broad bony shoulders, a chest with slight horizontal ridges, and a very short waist. His arms and legs were very long, and the cool, soft skin on the insides of his elbows and what there was of his belly was nearly silver. Jack investigated all of it with his hands, his mouth, and the scruff on his chin. Green didn't say much, but he gasped and sighed encouragingly and, when Jack sucked hard on his oddly-hinged hip, fluttered a long-fingered hand over Jack's head and shoulder and head again. Jack did it again, and Green patted at his head desperately and twisted his fingers in Jack's hair. Green's legs crossed behind Jack's shoulders; his feet had very high arches, and he didn't like Jack licking them. Also, at least by human standards, he was definitely male.
Jack had just bitten his way up the endless length of Green's left leg and opened his mouth to see what his cock tasted like when Green did a surprising sort of spring and flip and pinned Jack quite firmly at the knees and wrists. He had been quizzically interested, earlier, by the many pieces of Jack's clothing. Now he seemed fascinated by Jack's sturdier body and more heavily-muscled limbs. Jack's navel was particularly intriguing, as was all of his hair; Green sniffed it all, eyes shut, mouth dropping open, and finally Jack tugged one of his hands free and dragged Green toward him by the back of the neck and kissed his mouth—he didn't know if kissing was something Green's people did, if he even knew how to do it, but Jack's people did it, all right, and he groaned and sealed their mouths together and held on.
Green did indeed know how to kiss. He let Jack up and got one hand into his hair; they wound their arms around each other and rolled a couple of times, sorting out whose legs best went where, and suddenly they broke the kiss to heave simultaneous shuddering breaths as they found the optimal position for both their cocks at once. Their disparity in height and body structure meant that Jack's cock was pressed against Green's leg almost at the knee, while Green's was pressed against Jack's belly almost at the rib—but here they were both after the same thing, and they worked out their rhythm and soon Jack was whimpering into Green's collarbone and convulsing as he came. A minute later Green's eyes opened as wide as Jack had yet seen them, and he gave a subvocal moan and Jack felt a tingling sort of splash on his chest. He kissed Green again as they moved to lie on their sides. He thought he saw Green's eyes fall shut just as he drifted to sleep himself, their legs crisscrossed together.
Green was in no rush at all to depart, in the event. Over the course of the night, between short restorative naps, Jack and Green exhausted nearly Jack's entire imaginative repertoire, along with one or two things Green did to him that it wouldn't even have occurred to him could be done. Green liked it best when Jack fucked him, face to face, with Green's long legs wrapped right around Jack's shoulders. Jack liked it best spooned in front of Green, with Green's cock pressed against his back, while Green stroked the outside of his cock with one hand and the inside of his ass with the other; Green's long fingers found places nobody had touched in a long time. By morning they were both all in, too worn out to do anything but smile weakly and twist their fingers together as they tumbled, finally, to sleep.
Jack awoke when Green rose. He watched him move long-limbed and silent over to where he had dropped his boots and shed his robe. In a moment, he was dressed again, and checking in what were apparently a variety of pockets to make sure he had all his belongings. He pulled out the note he'd been consulting in the cantina the night before; Jack imagined that in the steadier light of this room, it was much easier for him to read.
'Morning,' Jack said.
Green nodded and looked at his document again. From another pocket he produced a stylus of some kind.
'Guess this means you've got to go,' Jack said. 'Too bad. Can't interest you in one more for the road?'
Green glanced back at him. 'Jack Harkness,' he said.
'That's me.'
'Captain Jack Harkness—the second.'
'Well, technically, yes, since you mention it.'
The tall grey-green person in the extravagantly draped golden robe raised one non-eyebrow at Jack and lifted one shoulder in the merest suggestion of a shrug. 'I've had better,' he said. Then he made a mark on his document; folded it back into his sleeve; and, before Jack could even parse the words, disappeared through the door.