“Like what, given their scope for mischief? Let’s maybe keep it to a mammal. No iguanas or tarantulas just yet.”
“Okay, first of all, I’m not cleaning up cow shit. Doubly no for sloths, which are actually the most disgusting creatures ever to exist. But what about… a koala?”
“Sweet pea. You have to the count of five to leave the room before I THROW something at your HEAD.”
Jack lets loose with an enormous laugh, a cackle that seems to come all the way from his toes. “Oh come, you don’t want to damage this masterpiece, do you?”
As they happen to be standing in the kitchen, Koschei lobs a rutabaga–don’t ask how they have a rutabaga–at Jack’s head.
“Like what, given their scope for mischief? Let’s maybe keep it to a mammal. No iguanas or tarantulas just yet.”
“I was thinking something dumb and slow. Something they can’t teach tricks to.”
“So what, like a … . cow, a … .seal, a sloth, even? … . why’ve you got that look. You’ve got that look on your face. It means you’re going to be naughty, WHAT.”
“Okay, first of all, I’m not cleaning up cow shit. Doubly no for sloths, which are actually the most disgusting creatures ever to exist. But what about… a koala?”
“Sweet pea. You have to the count of five to leave the room before I THROW something at your HEAD.”
“Like what, given their scope for mischief? Let’s maybe keep it to a mammal. No iguanas or tarantulas just yet.”
“I was thinking something dumb and slow. Something they can’t teach tricks to.”
“So what, like a … . cow, a … .seal, a sloth, even? … . why’ve you got that look. You’ve got that look on your face. It means you’re going to be naughty, WHAT.”
Koschei blinks, and claps his hands over his fat flushed cheeks, like Little Lord Fauntleroy on Christmas morning.
“SAM!” he shrieks. “YOU STOLE A FUCKINGKLIMT?”
It’s a testimony to his shock that he curses so strongly, so contrary to his Victorian sensibilities.
He stands there, does a little dance in place, and rifles his hands through his silvery blond hair until it’s a crow’s nest.
“You stole THE fucking Klimt,” he amends under breath.
He’s been waiting and watching for his husband’s reaction to the present. One of the small silver orbs he made him for Christmas a few years back is not only taking photos of the event, but also streaming straight to Jack’s wrist strap so he won’t miss a precious second of it.
And what a reaction it is too.
He swaggers into the room a few moments later, brimming with confidence (even arrogance).
“Steal is such a dirty word,” he says as he approaches Koschei. “I like to think of it as displaying it in its rightful place. I’m sure Klimt had us in mind when he painted this.”
Koschei laughs lustily, smacking his thighs. He spins and seizes Jack’s face in a rough unsoftened kiss.
“You DIRTY THING,” he growls, in raptures at being so spoiled by so competent a criminal mastermind. “That’s right, you redistribute the bounty to appreciative owners, my Robin Hood.”
He squishes Jack’s cheeks and nips both his dimples. Then he turns in his arms and claps his cheek with one hand.
“The crown jewel of Viennese Art Deco,” he croons.
Jack, on the other hand, is still fully clothed (sans shoes, he does have his limits) as he stands there in the waves, arms resting on his husband’s waist. “Just now,” he grins, leaning in to lick a bit of salt water off Koschei’s scruffy chin. “Been watching for a while, though.”
Koschei catches Jack around the neck and cups his jaw, just a little harshly; he does love being a tease. He kisses him hard and proper on the mouth, and hops down out of his arms, strolling out of the surf and onto the beach, supremely confident and unfazed in his own nudity. Just one other way they’re completely compatible.
Still, should Laura or Gray be around, he pulls up some black trunks and throws himself into a lounger, pulling lemonade from a cooler beside it.
“Hoh, lord. Sit with me a bit, hm? Happy to be the object of your voyeurism, love.”
“You’re the object of many things, trust me,” Jack leers, pausing a moment before following after him to admire the view of that amazing ass as it walks away.
He doesn’t wait too long though, jogging over to plop himself down on the sand in front of the chair, quickly stripping off his shirt before he boiled to death in the sun. Thus disrobed, he laid down on his back, resting his legs on the chair and tangled up with his husband’s.
“Enjoy your swim then?”
“Mostly,” Koschei hums. “I was thinking, though, I mean … I kept seeing these exquisite bands of coral in the water, and I rather thought that cold beaches never had those sorts of aquatica. That and beautiful krill, and all of that led to me wondering if I could do some underwater photography.”
He folds his hands over his suntanned belly, running his calf up and down Jack’s, golden hairs dappling his trim, muscular leg.
“Like, do you, know or does your mum … ? What sort of animals live out there? Do you lot have whales? Whales are cool. Especially orcas because they slaughter smaller mammals, they’re so fierce and deadly, hehHAH.”
The grin on his flushed face is now slightly diabolical.
Those beloved dimples suddenly appear at his touch, and Jack turns his head to kiss his palm. Yes it is their thing, and it’s one of the very many precious things that makes him value their relationship so much. Never has he ever felt comfortable to be so honest, nor has he ever felt like he was given the same in return. Even as they know each other better and better, he never wants to lose that founding principle.
“There’s knowing, and there’s knowing,” he laughs. “Plus who doesn’t like a little reminder every now and then?”
Koschei’s gut twists in a knot at the sight of Jack’s dimples; he’s certain his husband is well aware of their effect.
Vivacity and desire seize him. He becomes self-assured again, when his husband offers that sheepish explanation. Seeing someone so utterly shameless abashed is peculiarly arousing.
So he climbs upright and slams Jack flat on his back, drapes himself across him as he did drunk out of his skull on their very first actual date, and kisses him hard. Their lips are red and swollen when he’s done, and he takes care to tickle his husband’s ever clean-shaven cheeks with his own stubble.
All beneath a tented tangle of sheets, somewhere sweetly between a slumber party and a tryst.
“I am a JEALOUS! BAAAAABY!” he roars, shamelessly.
Jack laughs uproariously as he’s ravished like two overexcited teenagers parked in lover’s lane. It’s another glorious thing that he loves about their relationship, that they can go from such deep, soul-baring truths to raucous laughter and passionate kisses.
“Yes,” he laughs, grabbing his husband’s face with both hands and pulling him in for another snog. “But you’re MYjealous baby and no one’s ever going to change that.”
“Thank you, Delicious, I was beginning to question that,” Koschei retorts, sarcastic as the day is long.
He hasn’t the energy, even, dare he admit, the stamina, to throw back any further feistiness. Instead he finds the nearness of his husband sends him into one of those throes of possessive sullenness. Maybe he’ll always doubt he deserves or will be secured a permanent place in this blissful life.
So he noses his way closer to his favorite perch, on Jack’s chest, face hidden in his neck, facial hair sending affectionate tickles down the long-ago Time Agent’s skin. Skin that ever so slightly softens with age, the longer Koschei is able to convince him not to throw away the richness of living with another death and resurrection.
This weary lethargy simply doesn’t suit the Master, nor does it suit Koschei, Jack’s husband.
Nevertheless he uncurls himself from a sullen pretzel and crawls right up onto his summoner’s chest, resting a cheek plaintively in the crook of his neck, and closing his eyes.
I’m just saying, if John Barrowman made an appearance as Captain Jack Harkness in future Doctor Who episodes, he’d look fantastic with his natural gray hair. Support silver fox Jack 2k18
It’s a simmering hot summer afternoon on Boeshane, and even the infamously workaholic Koschei can’t withstand the heat. So naturally, he’s been swimming nude in the surf just by the house.
He surfaces and scrubs back hair from his eyes … only to be kissed soundly by his husband.
He chuckles, startled and tickled.
“When did YOU get here?”
Jack, on the other hand, is still fully clothed (sans shoes, he does have his limits) as he stands there in the waves, arms resting on his husband’s waist. “Just now,” he grins, leaning in to lick a bit of salt water off Koschei’s scruffy chin. “Been watching for a while, though.”
Koschei catches Jack around the neck and cups his jaw, just a little harshly; he does love being a tease. He kisses him hard and proper on the mouth, and hops down out of his arms, strolling out of the surf and onto the beach, supremely confident and unfazed in his own nudity. Just one other way they’re completely compatible.
Still, should Laura or Gray be around, he pulls up some black trunks and throws himself into a lounger, pulling lemonade from a cooler beside it.
“Hoh, lord. Sit with me a bit, hm? Happy to be the object of your voyeurism, love.”
Yo to all my doctor who friends, does anybody know where this picture is from??? I can’t find the origin of it at all, and I know it’s not Jack, and most likely photoshop, but I’m still curious.
Icarus 