Around her, below her, London was burning.
Rose bit at her lip as orange flame splashed the darkened city and burst brief brightness across the sky, the bass drone of aircraft engines vying with the thundering boom of explosions and the surreally melodic strains of Glenn Miller. The air was thick with the scent of smoke, underlaid by something more earthy and organic from the river, and even after all her travels with the Doctor, she couldn't quite believe that the scene playing out before her was real — it was London, it was her city, her home, as familiar as her mother's smile and as alien as the timeship beneath her feet. Adrenaline and alcohol sang in her veins as she watched the terrible beauty of the air raid and wondered if standing next to a fully-illuminated Big Ben was really the safest vantage point to be —
A hand settled on her shoulder and she started, jolted out of her thoughts by the contact. "Oh!"
"Careful now." A strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against a tall, reassuringly solid form. "I doubt I'd be able to get to the tractor beam quick enough from here and you're far too good to waste like that...."
"I wasn't going to fall!" Rose protested, not quite managing to smother her giggle — she really should know better than to drink champagne on an empty stomach, but it would have been impolite to refuse, especially when he looked at her like that.... Clearing her throat, she turned to look up at her rescuer. "So, d'you find what you were looking for?"
"Sure did." Jack Harkness smiled down at her, a glint of predatory amusement in his too-blue eyes, and Rose found her breath catching at the sight, at the warmth of his hands at her waist. "Looks like your friend — does he actually have a name?"
"Oh, er...." She thought fast, coming out with the first thing that entered her head. "Spock. Yeah, Mr Spock."
"Well, looks like your Mr Spock's got himself over to Albion Hospital." His eyes — god, she'd kill for lashes like that — never left her face and Rose tried and failed to keep her mind on the Doctor, on the bombs, on the potential threat that this self-confessed criminal might pose. "So, I suggest we go meet him there."
"Right, yes, we should — ah!" Rose gasped as clever fingers skimmed the waistband of her jeans before moving to lightly caress the skin above. "Jack...."
"Yes?" He moved fractionally closer, his smile daring her, and Rose felt her mouth go dry, her entire body reacting to his proximity in ways that she really ought to find embarrassing. He slid one hand beneath her t-shirt and jacket to press, warm and firm, against her spine, holding her in place as the other teasingly explored her belly, her ribs, never quite reaching her breasts. "What do you want, Rose?"
"I, uh —" Close, so close, and she could smell him, soap and sweat and spice and.... "What... what about the bomb?"
"Even walking, we could reach the hospital in less than an hour. We have time."
Time for what? Rose wanted to ask, but then his lips were brushing against hers and she was responding eagerly, hungrily, startling herself as she grabbed at the stiff blue cotton of his uniform, at the back of his neck, opening her mouth to his and moaning as he took full advantage. The sounds of the Glenn Miller Band swirled around her, never quite drowning out the roar of bombers or the distant thud of bombs, and if this was a film she'd be laughing, refusing to believe a bare second of it — not the sounds, not the sights, not the way she was wantonly pressing herself against a gorgeous stranger and wondering what else he could do with that tongue....
"Oh, yeah," Jack breathed as he pulled back from her at last, that perfect smile turned on her full-blast. "Definitely not a local girl."
"That a bad thing?" Rose caught her lower lip between her teeth, her smile spreading helplessly as she returned his gaze. God, men weren't supposed to be this beautiful, like Tom Cruise's taller and better-looking younger brother, and she didn't do things like this, not really, and if Shireen could just see her now she'd be so jealous....
"Oh no, not a bad thing at all." Jack slid his hand up under the tight cotton of her t-shirt, fingers slipping into a bra cup and twisting an already-erect nipple, making Rose gasp and whimper and squirm. "I like a woman who knows what she wants. You know what you want, Rose?"
She nodded, not trusting her voice — she didn't think she'd ever been this turned on in her life before and that certainly wasn't a sonic screwdriver in Jack's pocket. She shouldn't be doing this, really shouldn't be doing this, should be trying to find the Doctor and —
Stuff it, she thought as Jack leaned in to kiss her again, Doctor's not here, I am, and it's not like I don't know where he is, right?
Jack had the button on her jeans undone before she realised what he was doing, the zipper following a moment later. Rose broke away from the kiss with a gasp as his hand slipped beneath the denim to press against the damp cotton of her panties. "Oh!"
"Now, that's what I like," he murmured, flexing his fingers in a way that had her suddenly wondering just how comfortable his oversized pilot's chair might be. "Eager, enthusiastic and wet."
Rose swallowed hard, shivering as a plane screamed by overhead, feeling utterly vulnerable and enjoying it far more than she suspected she should. "Wouldn't... wouldn't want to disappoint, now would I?" she breathed.
He chuckled roughly. "I don't think there's any fear of that, sweetheart...." His hand withdrew... and then it was back again, pressing inside the cotton now, fingertips easing past the elastic and sliding across soft skin and rough hair, his blue eyes locked with her brown as he cupped her mound and London shuddered and groaned around them. "Gods, look at you. If I had more time, I'd stretch every tight little hole you've got so wide...."
"Uhn...." Rose blinked at him, her breathing growing shallow as his words sent a fresh jolt of arousal coursing through her. Filthy mouth, filthy mind, and if he didn't start matching actions to words soon, she was going to —
His mouth fastened hard over hers as his middle finger stroked against damp flesh... and then he was parting her, pressing into her, and Rose could feel her wet heat blossom around him, engulfing the intruding digit as he pushed past her folds. She gasped, clinging to him, hips moving as she chased sensation — this was nothing like it had been with Mickey or with Jimmy, with their eager, uncertain groping, nothing like touching herself under the bathwater or the bedcovers. Jack moved with utter, practiced surety, opening and pressing and grinding her against his palm to a discordant accompaniment of saxophone and anti-aircraft fire. Rose surrendered herself to him with a sobbing moan, riding his hand and those quick, clever fingers until her climax crashed over her, one wave following another like the German bombers overhead, until she was left whimpering and panting, sagging bonelessly against him. "Fuck...."
"If we weren't on a deadline, believe me — it'd be my pleasure." He pulled his hand free of her underwear and fumbled with his own clothing for a few moments, and it wasn't until he grunted and swore under his breath that Rose realised he was milking his cock — and it looked as though he really hadn't been joking about wanting to stretch her wide — finishing himself off into a pale handkerchief. Tucking the soiled material back into his pocket, he shook his head as if to clear it, then grinned wolfishly at her. "Nice to see the Agency's still good for something."
"We aim to please," Rose told him with a shaky smile, pulling her clothes back into a semblance of order and wondering if this was some sort of Time Agent secret handshake or something — 'nice to meet you, let me shove my hand down your pants and wank you senseless.' She wondered if the Doctor would know about that... and then decided that she'd rather die than actually ask him. "Thanks. That was, er...."
"I know." Jack's grin turned smug. "We'd better get going — don't want to keep your Mr Spock waiting, right? We have a negotiation to complete."
"Right." Rose glanced at the great, illuminated clockface alongside the ship and was startled to see that no more than six or seven minutes had passed since she had last paid it any attention. She felt a sudden rush of guilt — the Doctor could be in trouble, could be in danger, and she had been off getting her jollies with some pretty trans-temporal scavenger — albeit one who had saved her life — with no apparent sense of self-preservation, jumping at the chance of a cheap thrill because he smiled at her and gave her champagne....
God. She was turning into her mother.
Rose took a deep breath and resolved that from here on out, she would be all business, no matter how bright his grin or how blue his eyes. With luck, the Doctor need never know about this little interlude... although if it turned out that there was a 'later' with Jack....
Tugging her t-shirt firmly down, Rose squared her shoulders and pushed that thought firmly out of her mind. "So," she said briskly, turning to him with what she hoped was a purely professional smile, "shall we go?"
~ fin ~