When it comes to addictions John could write the book. He’s flunked out of more rehab programmes than most people even realise exist. Drink. Drugs. Sex. Murder. He’s got quite jaded about the whole process. Rehab is just a way to abstain for long enough to improve the inevitable highs that follow.
He’s never cared that much about the gender of his partners, much less their shape, colour or species. When he first ran into the leather-clad freelancer with too many hearts he’d expected a pleasant distraction, not a new obsession. He’d tied her up, she’d tied him down, they’d run the gamut of interesting things to do with humanoid bodies without clothes in normal gravity without getting bored. Then he’d made the mistake of challenging her to blow his mind, and she’d climbed inside his head and showed him how little he really knew about cross-species sex.
She tastes of tea, thunderstorms and the time vortex, her kisses leave an ashy taste in his mouth that reminds him of battlefields so he calls it death. She smiles her strange sad smile below her cold dark eyes and agrees with him.
Just before she comes she babbles the names of the planets she’s seen burn (she burned them to save them from something worse) and when she goes crashing over the edge he can see the flames reflected in her eyes. In that moment he can feel the heat of the backwash, smell the death and cordite in the air, hear the screaming and the silence. And it’s just so damn hot he does it far more often than is entirely wise. He calls her his favourite addiction to hide that she’s spoiled him for everyone else ever.
She flits in and out of his life and his bed. When she’s gone he pretends he doesn’t miss the feel of her inside his head. He gets off on whatever sex and drugs are offered, drinks too much and takes far too much pleasure in putting a permanent stop to those who get in his way at work. She disappears permanently one day, for long enough that he can throw his pride to the wind and go looking for her. He tracks down Jack for a trial run, the pretty boy makes an excellent distraction and a better hunting partner. Besides riding the rift that far and fast has just enough kick of certain death to sate his thirsts for long enough to keep him rational. Well, relatively, as rational as he ever gets.
These days the pretty boy’s got some weird immortal kick going on which he’d really love to explore the potential of, but its more fun to torture his little team. Weirder still he’s got himself his own strange sort of fidelity going on, yeah to five people but that’s pretty tame among their kind. Won’t come join the fun. Seems Jack’s managed to kick his addictions into line a little, and he hates him a little for that. He hates her more though, for making him miss her like this.
Fitz Kreiner/Charley Pollard, Jack Harkness/Susan Foreman, Iris Wildthyme/Tenth Doctor
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timeasmymeasure
Susan Foreman/John Hart
Date: 2008-06-05 10:03 am (UTC)He’s never cared that much about the gender of his partners, much less their shape, colour or species. When he first ran into the leather-clad freelancer with too many hearts he’d expected a pleasant distraction, not a new obsession. He’d tied her up, she’d tied him down, they’d run the gamut of interesting things to do with humanoid bodies without clothes in normal gravity without getting bored. Then he’d made the mistake of challenging her to blow his mind, and she’d climbed inside his head and showed him how little he really knew about cross-species sex.
She tastes of tea, thunderstorms and the time vortex, her kisses leave an ashy taste in his mouth that reminds him of battlefields so he calls it death. She smiles her strange sad smile below her cold dark eyes and agrees with him.
Just before she comes she babbles the names of the planets she’s seen burn (she burned them to save them from something worse) and when she goes crashing over the edge he can see the flames reflected in her eyes. In that moment he can feel the heat of the backwash, smell the death and cordite in the air, hear the screaming and the silence. And it’s just so damn hot he does it far more often than is entirely wise. He calls her his favourite addiction to hide that she’s spoiled him for everyone else ever.
She flits in and out of his life and his bed. When she’s gone he pretends he doesn’t miss the feel of her inside his head. He gets off on whatever sex and drugs are offered, drinks too much and takes far too much pleasure in putting a permanent stop to those who get in his way at work. She disappears permanently one day, for long enough that he can throw his pride to the wind and go looking for her. He tracks down Jack for a trial run, the pretty boy makes an excellent distraction and a better hunting partner. Besides riding the rift that far and fast has just enough kick of certain death to sate his thirsts for long enough to keep him rational. Well, relatively, as rational as he ever gets.
These days the pretty boy’s got some weird immortal kick going on which he’d really love to explore the potential of, but its more fun to torture his little team. Weirder still he’s got himself his own strange sort of fidelity going on, yeah to five people but that’s pretty tame among their kind. Won’t come join the fun. Seems Jack’s managed to kick his addictions into line a little, and he hates him a little for that. He hates her more though, for making him miss her like this.
Fitz Kreiner/Charley Pollard, Jack Harkness/Susan Foreman, Iris Wildthyme/Tenth Doctor