Day 1

Title: Day 6
Author: tarotgal
Fandom: Torchwood (Doctor Who)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jack/various
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my 'verse. I don't get paid a cent to play. Please don't sue and make things worse.
Summary: General sick!Jack and naughtiness.
Note: Part of the 12 Ficlets in 12 Days project 2010-2011. Requested by rainbowbluebird


Jack peeled the temperature strip off his forehead and took a look at it. Ever since Rose had joined with the TARDIS's energy and brought him back to life, he had tended to run a bit of a higher temperature. It probably had something to do with whatever life force kept him going, kept him from dying permanently each time. So it wasn't all that surprising to find it rather high now. What was surprising was the way his head was throbbing and his throat paining him.

For the longest time, he had gone without feeling ill. In fact, he thought there might be some supernatural immunity built into his deal. But then, without warning, a little cold had struck him. A few years later, it had been a flu. He had gotten TB when that was popular to get. Colds were the easiest to catch; over the years he had caught a hundred of them it seemed. But he never died permanently from any illness, just the same as what happened when he was injured.

He cleared his throat, and as pain shot through it, he began to panic. Ill? Truly ill? Why now of all times? John had always called him unlucky. Surely it wasn't something that could kill him but he'd be miserable, most likely, and he'd had enough experience being miserable lately to know he didn't want any more of that right now.

“So how bad is it?” came a voice from the bathroom. “Can I get you anything?” There was the clicking sound of the medicine cabinet door opening and then closing again. “You've got absolutely nothing in here.”

Jack wasn't sure how to reply. He could not tell the man that this wasn't really his flat—that it had belonged to his last lover who'd been killed in the worst way, in circumstances that should never have been allowed to take place. He could not tell the man that he had only brought him back here because the only other option was an uncomfortable hotel room. He could not tell the man that he didn't bother with stocking up on remedies for the cold and flu season because he was immortal and illnesses were merely annoyances. So he said nothing at all. Jack sat there in silence until Alonso came back into the room, towel around his waist.

“What did the thermometer say?” he asked.

Jack shrugged.

Alonso put his hand to the man's forehead. “I swear you're warmer now than you were earlier tonight.”

“I'm always hot,” Jack said, shrugging again.

Shyly and softly, Alonso responded, “Yes. Yes you are.” He meant that in every way possible, and Jack knew it. But he also knew he was getting ill and Alonso would probably want to leave. And once the happy buzz the alcohol had brought wore off and the haze the cold would bring kicked in, Jack would be back to missing his team, missing his last lover, missing his family, and missing his reason for living. He would wish once again that he'd been the one to die, instead of the one who watched them all die.

“I still don't know why you chose me,” Alonso said.

Jack smiled, running a hand lazily down the man's side. “Let's just say you're my type. Why wouldn't I pick you up?”

“Dorky men in suits, sitting in a bar, drowning their sorrows are your type?”

Jack smiled. “Yeah.” He loosened the towel around the man's waist. “Especially when they're friends of the Doctor.” 

“The Doc… you know the Doctor?”

Jack nodded, and then he was saved having to provide details because of a sneeze that came out of nowhere. “HAH-chooo!” He snuffled wetly against his shoulder. He felt another tickle building slowly and he shivered a little as he tried and failed to hold it back. “hah-Chush!” When he was sure he wasn't going to sneeze a third time, he lifted his head to see Alonso getting dressed, right down to shoes and a jacket. Jack's heart sank. He knew it: ill and alone.

Alonso leaned over and kissed Jack's forehead. “Get into bed. I'll be back before you know it with some medicine and tissues for you.”

Filled with relief, Jack did as Alonso had suggested. It was more pleasurable getting into bed alone with the knowledge that he would be joined shortly.

He didn't fall asleep, because Jack didn't sleep. But he did enjoy the way the bed warmed around him. His head sunk into the deep pillow, which still carried a bit of Ianto's scent, and the blankets had a nice weight upon him. Soon it was all toasty and comfortable.

Alonso returned and settled down on the bed beside him. “How are you feeling?”

He shrugged again.

“You know you can tell me. I'm not going anywhere.”

That made no sense to Jack. He knew he was practically a god in bed and his copious experience in Torchwood meant he was knowledgeable about anything he might come across. But he wasn't much good ill. And Alonso barely knew him. There was no reason for this man to stay in any case. Unless… unless he needed Jack as much as Jack needed him just now. “I don't feel so hot,” he said.

Alonso smiled. “You're always hot.”

Hot? Maybe. Sneezy? Definitely. He sat up and went through the cloth bag Alonso had brought back from the chemist down the road. He went straight for the tissues at first, ripping the box open and taking out a few. He could feel his nose starting to run in addition to tickle. There were some cough drops and nasal drops. There was a bottle of what looked like nasty green liquid that Jack knew would help but that he honestly wanted nothing to do with.

Jack pulled back a little, sucking in a deep breath. “hahhhh… hahh-Chooo!” A little surprised to see Alonso holding out a tissue for him, Jack took it with a smile. “You know, sniff, I had a lover once who kissed me after each and every sneeze.”

Alonso chuckled, amused. “Really?”

“I've had a lot of lovers.”

“Oh, I can imagine. Handsome bloke like you. Probably had to fight off all the boys.”

“Some of the girls, too,” Jack said, with a sly grin. “And a few species that don't have that particular dis… dis… distinction-hah-hahChoo!” Before Jack could even sniff, he felt lips upon his. The kiss was tender, gentle, caring, and brief.

Alonso grinned at Jack's surprised suggestion. “You didn't think I could take the hint?”

“I… ah… well, I had hoped you might.” The sort of kiss Margareete had given him had been a bit more urgent. But he liked this one just fine.

“I do what I'm told by higher ranking officers, Captain.”

“Good to know, Midshipman.” He blew his nose. “You know, I had another lover who decided the best way to get me through a cold was to take my mind off my symptoms.”

“And how…” Alonso's hand slid under the blankets. “How did that work out for you?”

“Oh, pretty well, actually.” Alonso's hand flexed over Jack's thigh with firm, reassuring rubs. Then his hand moved inward, finding a place against Jack's warm crotch. “Maybe… better than pretty well.” Jack closed his eyes as he felt the strong hand stroke his balls and then take hold of his cock. And, oh, that hand was so good at its work. Jack didn't want to know where he learned how to do it. He was just happy that the man knew it. The strong strokes made Jack's body hum, pivoting up and down at the hips, timing his thrusts to encourage faster strokes. He wasn't going to last very long under this sort of care. “Oh yeah,” he breathed, closing his eyes. “Just like… just like… th-thahhh-hahh-hahChooshh!

Alonso craned his neck and scooted upward to give him a quick peck on the lips. Jack felt his lips tremble against the man's. Jack pulled his head away quickly. “h'Chxxtchhh!” It was a half-stifled sneeze, but it still earned him a kiss that made his body hum with need. The man kept rubbing, tickling, stroking, slowly bringing Jack back to life for good. “You know—sniff!—I had a lover who had this amazing tongue and whenever I felt a little under the weather he would…” Jack broke off as Alonso flicked his tongue at one of Jack's nipples. And then the tongue slid down, down. Hands still groped at Jack's balls and the base of his cock, constantly moving and touching and teasing the cock into hardening and dribbling. But now, with a tongue added as well, Jack almost didn't know what to do with himself. The sensations were so intense, so overwhelming. He found himself thrusting into a warm, welcoming mouth with a tongue that swirled without hesitation or consideration.

Jack felt another sneeze creeping up on him. And while it would have been just fine for him to sneeze now, he really didn't want to. He wanted to be utterly distracted, without a single reminder that his head was steadily filling up with icky snot. “Alonso,” he whispered. “I… just keep doing that… even if… even… ah-hahh… hahhh…” His eyes closed and though he tried his best to hold the sneeze back, it inevitably came. “hahhhh-Chooo!

Another kiss. But this time it was a kiss on the very tip of his cock. Jack sighed happily and the deep breath made him cough a little.

Slowly, carefully, Alonso retracted his tongue and slowed his strokes. Jack moaned and shook his head. “You're not sounding too good, Captain. I'd wager it's time for some medicine, before it gets worse.”

 “Now?” Jack asked, flabbergasted. He'd been minutes away from exploding, and now… sticky green syrup? Hardly a worthy substitute for what was proving to be an incredible orgasm.


Jack wondered how bad the sneezing and coughing must sound for the man to be suddenly so adamant. “I don't really like that stuff. I think I'll be all right without it. Sniff, sniff!

“Did none of your lovers ever have you take medicine?”

“A few did. One had to tie me up to get me to…” He trailed off as Alonso began taking off his shirt. Jack enjoyed the sight. If this had to do with taking medicine, he would have taken some earlier. He watched as the man then stripped off a white undershirt. Jack got a good look at the man's chest, including what looked suspiciously like a bullet wound scar. Alonso tore strips off and wriggled out of his trousers, unthreading his belt in the process. He straddled Jack and, grinning, threw himself forward. He grabbed Jack's wrist and used one of the shirt strips to tie Jack to the headboard. He did the same to the other wrist and then he turned in place, so Jack got a great view of the man's round arse. He wanted badly to reach out and give it a squeeze, but the ties were tight around his wrists. And, soon, around his ankles as well.

He lay there, splayed out on the bed, completely vulnerable. And when Alonso turned back around, Jack expected him to have a bottle in one hand and a spoon in the other. Instead, he just had his belt. “I think…” Very carefully, he tied the belt around the base of Jack's erect cock. It wasn't made for this sort of thing, but it definitely did the trick. Even as those soft fingers stroked his cock afterward, he knew he wouldn't be coming. He was stuck, helpless, and strangely, it felt marvelous.

Alonso produced the bottle of cold medicine, wearing a silly grin. “Ready?”

Captain Jack Harkness was in no position to say no. So he sniffed, opened his mouth, and closed his eyes. First came the medicine, poured in so that it was an imprecise amount, though enough to do the trick. His head still felt stuffy. His body still felt hot. His nose still… “HahChoo! Hahhh-Chooo! hahhh-CHIHH!” Alonso kissed him, kissed him, and kissed him again. Then he wiped a tissue against Jack's nose.

“So what am I thinking now?”

Jack grinned. “Same thing I am. That I should really sneeze more.”

A few extra strokes had Jack writhing in pleasure. Then off came the belt, and Jack nearly came as though he were a fifteen-year-old and not hundreds of years old. With a laugh and a bit of lube, Alonso carefully sat down on Jack. And Jack moaned at the tightness and the heat and the way Alonso rocked forward and back down again.

Jack desperately wanted to sneeze now. He needed to feel those lips on his. He needed the man to lean forward all the way, at an angle that would make his cock throb. He tried to wrinkle his nose, tried to ease his breath into a sneeze. He could feel his nose wanting to run, but that was about it.

“Are you going to sneeze?”

Jack shook his head.

“You sure?”

Jack nodded. He stared into Alonso's eyes and realized the man must be as psychic as he was. Jack's eyes closed and nostrils flared and breath hitched. He snapped forward with the sneeze. “Hehh-Choo!

The resulting kiss was deeper and stronger than any of the ones that had come before it. It was warm and wet and that expert tongue lapped at his mouth hungrily. Jack could take no more. He came with a thrust, body somehow shaking and tensing up at the exact same time. All his effort went into returning the kiss, so that afterward he had to turn his head and gasp for air, letting the euphoria take hold of him and not let go.

Jack Harkness did not sleep, but he had moments of haziness, where the world slipped away from him, leaving only dull sensation and soft sound. He was vaguely aware of being untied. He realized his stomach was being cleaned off, followed by his crotch and, then, another tissue wiped at his still-sniffly nose. He felt himself being rolled over onto his side and having blankets tucked tightly around him. And he raised his head as another pillow was slipped under his, making it easier for him to breathe.

Then came kisses without sneezes, kisses that didn't mean attachment, but meant comfort, and an arm wrapping around him from behind. Jack smiled weakly. “You know, I also had a lover who made the best tea for me when I was ill.”

“I can't promise you the best,” came the whisper in his ear.

“That's all right,” Jack replied, not really expecting it anyway.

“But I promise I'll drink it with you and stay the night.”