Fic! Rocks Fall: Jack/Rose/Ten.

[jmtorres]

So, the authors have been revealed on 3_ships, and I can tell you all what I wrote.

Jack/Rose/Ten, written over the course of about 12 hours at niqaeli's house, and yes, the title is "Rocks Fall," which I blame on it being 4 in the morning when I finished.

The blue box appeared in the middle of the Hub, on the pavement square of the invisible lift. Jack had come out of his office at the first sound of it, when Gwen was still tilting her head, asking, "What is that?" Tosh spied the box fading in, in half-increments timed to the pulsing of the sound, and hit the panic button at her workstation, yelling, "Incursion!" She and Owen had their guns out while Gwen was still fumbling about in surprise, but Jack walked past them as if he hadn't heard.

The sound drifted away, echoing oddly through the Hub, and the blue box remained solid. Jack stood perhaps two meters from the door. It opened, pouring out a blonde blur and a pin-striped blur. The blonde blur said, "Jack!" The pin-striped blur said, "Captain, how've you been?" By the time these pleasantries were uttered, both blurs had solidified into people-shaped things, and attached themselves to Jack with their arms and mouths and in the blonde's case, her legs around Jack's waist.

"Get off of him!" Tosh yelled, cocking her gun.

"No, no, no guns!" Jack said, pulling away from the man's mouth briefly. He held his hand out in an urgent stop! gesture, though the three of them were such a tightly tangled knot of limbs that the only real way to tell it was Jack's hand was the leather wristband.

"They're... sex invaders?" Gwen asked, tilting her head to watch the blonde sucking on Jack's earlobe.

"Oh, fuck it," said Owen, lowering his gun and slapping his panic button to kill the alarms. "If that's all it is, he can handle himself."

"But they could be--" Tosh faltered. "He could be in danger."

"I'm fine!" Jack insisted, though it was largely muffled by the man's neck, which Jack was biting.

"You sure?" Gwen asked, half-heartedly.

"They're friends," Jack said. He threw his head back to get the words out, and the blonde went for his throat. Thankfully, to lick it, not to bite it. "Well, she is, I assume he is--"

"Oi!" said the man, head jerking up from where he'd been sucking on Jack's fingers. "I am shocked, genuinely shocked and disappointed that you don't know me."

"You grew your hair out," Jack protested. The man kissed him. "Yep, still you, though. Jesus, you people can say 'Hello.'"

"Hello," said the blonde, sounding gleeful.

"Hello," said Jack.

For some reason, this sparked them both off laughing.

"I'm going for coffee," Owen said disgustedly. "Who's with me?"

---

Jack waited until his crew had filed out before he pulled back, leaned his forehead against Rose's so she couldn't quite kiss him, couldn't quite get at his mouth. She tried, caught his chin in one hand and tried to duck low and look up at him, but she was still in his arms, legs around his waist, the Doctor at her back--it was hard for her to maneuver much. The Doctor was still stroking any bit of Jack's skin he could get his hands on, and Jack had to inhale sharply before he said, "We need to talk."

"Later," said Rose. "Whatever it is, it can wait."

"You don't know--" Jack began.

"You don't know either!" Rose flared. "I nearly got lost in the void, got caught in another universe instead, the Doctor said it wasn't possible, said it was sealed, said it was impossible for me to get back. Thought that was it, the end, finito, lost you both forever, but I'm here, I'm back, I made it back, and I don't care what I don't know, I just want to hold you both and never let go."

"All right," said Jack, "all right," and held her, and the Doctor wrapped his skinny arms around them both, hands digging into Jack's back. Rose laid her head on Jack's shoulder, and the Doctor met his gaze with dark, knowing eyes, as if to say, If you ruin this for her... And Jack shook his head because he wouldn't, wouldn't for the world.

It wasn't as if what had happened to him wasn't as awful and terrifying and lonesome, but when she put it like that--I just want to hold you both and never let go--Jack could see the sense in that. What did he want, but this? An explanation? Rose was right. It could wait.

Jack got them into bed--his bed, because it was honestly closer to get them up the stairs and down the ladder to where he bunked on base than to wander around in the TARDIS's corridors. The bed wasn't really very big, but they way they clung to one another, it was big enough.

"I want both of you in me," Rose said. "You can fuck each other's brains out later."

"It's not his brains I want to fuck," Jack said, making a grab for the Doctor's ass. Trying to make light, make them smile. It came out too dark, too needy.

"Later," the Doctor said emphatically. He was peeling Rose's jacket off her (the denim one) and then reaching around her to unbutton her top, his hands brushing against Jack's chest. He was practically radiating what Rose wants, Rose gets.

Rose let go of Jack a moment to let the Doctor slide her sleeves off her, and then she was holding onto Jack again, kissing him. "Okay?" she asked.

"Okay," Jack said. He wasn't trying to argue, wasn't trying to fight them. He didn't mean to be combative, to need to be convinced. Rose was pushing his shirt off his shoulders, pulling his undershirt up out of his trousers, and possibly the only person not getting undressed here was the Doctor. Jack caught his tie, yanked it over Rose's shoulder, started picking at the knot. The Doctor curled in obliglingly close, mouth on Rose's hair. He moved his legs restlessly, bumping against Rose's and Jack's, and when Jack glanced down, he saw the Doctor was kicking his shoes off. Running shoes, and how fitting was that, when was the Doctor not running?

They were down to skin, red pressed shapes of clothes fading away. Rose had her arms around Jack's neck, her breasts and belly and hips rubbing against Jack's body, and Jack and the Doctor were alternately stroking at Rose and at each other. There were words, senseless, Rose's whispered, "Love you, love you, love you both," nothing but a rhythm in Jack's ears, and the random mutterings of the Doctor's, hand on Jack's cock, "Hard as a rock, aren't you," sliding up to Rose's tits, "Soft as sin," kissing her back, wet and loud enough for Jack to hear, even if he didn't feel Rose shudder against him.

"The two of you going to fuck me, or no?" Rose asked, half-turning away from Jack to look at the Doctor, include him in her question.

Jack caught hold of her hip, pulled her back. "I am," he promised. Jarred their hips together, his cock to her mound. "Want your cunt."

"Do you," said the Doctor, challengingly. "Rock-paper-scissors for it?" Funny how those dark eyes of his seemed to burn with possessiveness; Jack had thought nothing could be more piercing than the old Doctor's cold, blue eyes.

"Boys, boys," said Rose. "You can both have my cunt."

"You sure?" the Doctor asked. His hand was rubbing her hip, forward enough to brush Jack's groin with his thumb. It wasn't how they usually did this--and how easy it was to fall back into concepts of usual, for something that only lasted four months, over a hundred years ago in Jack's personal timeline. But this wasn't how they usually did this, even when they put Rose in the middle, and they didn't usually do that either, if usually meant more than half of the time. Who landed in the middle had split pretty evenly in thirds.

"I'm sure," Rose said, looking over her shoulder at him. Jack kissed the side of her neck.

The Doctor looked over Rose at Jack and said cheerfully, "Frontsies or backsies?"

Jack could feel Rose shake with laughter even as her face screwed up in a cringe. The things that came out of the Doctor's mouth during sex should really cease to be shocking in their childishness at some point; after all, this was the man who perennially referred to the act of sex itself as dancing. Jack remembered once he and Rose had wound the old Doctor up, talking about going clubbing, going dancing in public, as provocatively as they could manage, until finally the Doctor had exploded, "Oh, you mean dancing." Rose had said, innocently, "Of course--if we'd meant screwing, we'd have said screwing." Jack had laughed and added, "Speak for yourself. If I'd meant screwing, I don't think I could have resisted a crack about someone's sonic issues. But if I'd meant fucking, I would've said fucking."

"Frontsies," Jack said, making Rose laugh outright. "But first things first." He held out his hand to the Doctor--not to hold, or even for rock-paper-scissors, but for comparison. They'd done this once before, the first time back in the Doctor's old skin, and the Doctor had won then. But this time, the Doctor tried to hitch his hand up and fudge it, and Jack lined up the heels of their palms to find his fingertips were slightly longer, and his palm and thumb were wider. "Looks like prep's on me," he said.

"Damn it," the Doctor muttered.

"On your back," Jack said softly to Rose, sitting up to give her more room. Rose shifted, leaning back on the Doctor, spreading her legs. One foot landed on Jack's lap. Jack rubbed it gently for a moment, hands sliding up her ankle and her calf. He let his hands rest there for a moment, kissed her knee, then skimmed on up her thigh to between her legs.

Rose wriggled her thighs farther apart, rubbing up against the Doctor. She looked up at Jack, breathless, mouth just slightly open. Jack slid his fingers between her lips, just rubbing from cunt to clit and back, and judged her wet enough that extra lube would be unnecessary. He pushed two fingers into her (remembered, after all this time, to start with two: one would get a laugh; three, a wince). The Doctor, watching, gave a nod, as if in approval, as if he'd been concerned Jack would fuck this up, would have forgotten how.

Rose's hips rocked up as Jack reached into her, fingering through the slippery slick for the spot that would set her off. Rose licked her lips, said something too soft for Jack to hear, though the Doctor heard it, stroked her hair back from her face and murmured something back. Jack hooked his fingers up past her pubic bone and dug his fingertips in, making tight circles.

"Fuck, yes," said Rose, this time loud enough to hear. Jack could feel the muscles of her cunt shifting.

The Doctor slipped his hand down, parted Rose's lips, found her clit. Jack didn't mind the help, didn't begrudge the Doctor that. Rose didn't look like she minded either, her fingertips on the back of the Doctor's hand, pacing him.

To Jack, she said, "More."

Jack slipped his ring finger in after the first two, felt her cunt stretch, her hips roll. He went back to finger-fucking her, pushing deep and hooking back. Rose arched her back, driving herself down on his fingers, and said, again, "More."

Jack slid his hand halfway out, and pushed back in with four fingers, and Rose made a sound like a moan and turned her head to bite down on the Doctor's shoulder.

"I can back off," said Jack.

"Don't you dare," said Rose. She was pushing harder at the Doctor's hand, and the Doctor was stroking furiously at her clit. His fingertips stuttered against Jack's palm, wet points of pressure.

Jack's thrusts were more careful now, even as Rose seemed more frantic. "You want me to go for it?" Jack asked, rubbing his thumb against the outside of her, his fingers pressed in as deep as they would go. The mouth of her cunt was stretched tight but inside, she gave way wherever he pushed.

"Yeah," Rose said, and, "Fuck, yeah."

Jack folded his thumb in and Rose held still, held steady, and he slid his hand up inside her. His fingers pushed up against her cervix, and he curled them down, started to pull his hand into a fist. Rose made a soft, ragged noise and caught the Doctor's wrist, making him stop.

"Rose?" the Doctor asked.

She pressed her face to the Doctor's neck, said another something too soft for Jack to hear. The Doctor pulled his hand from between her legs, brought it up to cradle her head. His fingers glistened.

"She all right?" Jack asked the Doctor, a moment before the absurdity of that struck him, of asking the Doctor rather than Rose herself.

"M'fine," said Rose. She shifted her hips, slid down on his wrist, and Jack couldn't help the shudder of want that went through him, imagining what that felt like. "Love you," she said, and she seemed to gather her strength and pull away from the Doctor enough to look at Jack, She breathed, and said, "Jack, I love you."

Something in the pit of Jack's stomach twisted, and he wanted very badly to say, Then why did you leave me, but he couldn't, didn't. She didn't know. How was she supposed to know how long it had been for him, how many years? His face didn't show a day of it.

"Jack?" Rose asked, voice faltering.

"Love you, too," Jack said, though he had to lower his head, couldn't quite look at her. He dropped a kiss on her bent knee, holding onto her ankle with his free hand. He felt her shift, and no, that was the Doctor, the Doctor had sat up and was lifting Jack's chin and kissing him.

"Love you," said the Doctor, stroking at Jack's wrist between Rose's legs, but thankfully, his words didn't seem to need a response. Jack wasn't sure he could have pulled back from saying it to the Doctor, the Doctor who looked younger than he had when Jack had known him, and should know, had to know, was the only one who could know what had become of him.

Jack just kissed him, and rocked his hand inside Rose, and the Doctor lay back down and curled around Rose, and Jack just broke, then, wanted in on that intimacy (and that was all he'd ever wanted from these two) that he'd been a part of, once. "I want you," he said to Rose, letting his fingers go loose and pulling his hand out of her.

"Yes," Rose said, and scrambled up gratifyingly fast, into his lap, onto his cock. She threw a glance over her shoulder, asking, "Doctor?" and Jack shifted up on his knees, pulling Rose's legs around his waist, supporting her. He felt the Doctor's fingers at the base of his cock, around the mouth of her cunt, pulling, and then the head of the Doctor's cock was pushing in, and it was everything all at once, tight and slick and frottage and fucking and bodies straining together, Rose arching her back, so that her belly pressed against Jack and her head dropped back on the Doctor's shoulder, and she gasped, open-mouthed. Rose's hands on the back of Jack's neck felt so good, and her cunt on his cock, and the Doctor's cock, sliding up and down, the shape of its head rubbing against the head of Jack's cock, and the Doctor's thighs, brushing close and pulling back as the Doctor fucked them both, hips jerking.

It didn't last long--it couldn't, Jack couldn't. He was embarrassingly first to the finish line, but the Doctor just fixed him with a look, said, "Hold onto her," and pushed Jack back on his heels, Rose draped on top of him, and kept fucking. Jack caught himself with one hand, held Rose with the other, felt her hair on his face, her mouth on his neck, felt the Doctor's fingers between himself and Rose as he gripped her hips.

Rose came, once, twice, in quick succession, holding tight to Jack and murmuring, "Oh, God, love you, love you both." The Doctor let go of her, pulled free, and Jack let his balance go and tumbled back, pulling Rose with him, let his legs relax.

The Doctor lay down beside them, curled against them as he had against Rose before--only now he was curled against Jack's side, curled against them both. The Doctor pushed Rose's hair back and Rose smiled, slow and lazy, not that Jack could see it, could only feel half her smile against his chest. The Doctor said, "So, can I fuck his brains out now?"

"Oh, I suppose," said Rose.

"Hey, do I get a say in this?" Jack asked, mostly teasing.

The Doctor's brows knit together in disingenuous bafflement. "You have an objection?" he asked.

"Well," Jack said, stretching the syllable out, partly for their amusement, partly to cover his own indecision. He did love them, had ached for them, ached for this, but as much as he was willing to give Rose everything she wanted, he felt more reservation with the Doctor, more need for explanation. He wanted to ask, no, he wanted to demand to know what had happened, why they had gone, why he wasn't dead.

The Doctor was looking at him, eyebrow crawling ever upwards.

Jack remembered what Rose had said. It could wait, everything could wait while they just held onto each other. An objection? "Nope," Jack said, "can't think of a one."