Disclaimer: Torchwood belongs to the BBC.

My first M rated Fanfic, hope you enjoy and please review!

I gasped as the familiar burn turned into tingling pleasure, Jack held his weight above me, thrusting shallowly, I raise my hips trying to take more of him in. We kiss passionately, Jack's tongue snaking past my teeth and stroking mine. I know that whilst having sex all you should be thinking about is what you are feeling, and how you should be reciprocating these feelings of pleasure to your lover, but tonight I could not help but wonder exactly what Jack was doing.

When we first started this…thing we would just fuck against a filing cabinet, Jack's desk, in the kitchen…it would be pure lust, animalistic passion and fast. Jack would always take me from behind, I would brace myself on the wall, desk, side…and we would fuck until both of us had come. There would be no gentle touches, or sleeping afterwards. We only kissed whilst undressing and during the actual act. Afterwards we would simply get dressed and move on with our days.

After a few months, I finally saw Jack's room, we were in his office, stripping each other, but rather than the fierce kisses I was used to, these were more passionate. I remember Jack stepping away looking at me and myself feeling foolish, my shirt was undone and I knew that he could feel my erection. He simply held out his hand, I took it curiously and he pulled me down into his room. That night we had sex on a bed for the first time and rather than the impersonal sex of before, Jack lay on top of me, faced me and we kissed throughout. Afterwards, I left but over the coming months I began to stay the night. When we started having sex in this way, it felt more personal. I could see Jack's face as he lost control in the climax of his orgasm and he could see mine. Even then I thought that this was more intimate, but I just assumed that Jack fancied sex in a bed every now and then.

Tonight is the first night that we have had sex since Jack went off for three months with the Doctor. Jack won't tell me exactly what happened but I get the feeling that it was bad, he keeps looking at me oddly with a mixture of sadness and longing. We went out on our date tonight and if I didn't know better I would say that he was nervous. It was nice actually, we went out for a meal in a posh restaurant and talked but I get the feeling that we didn't really talk about anything. Jack is shifting his weight and I don't know what he is doing, suddenly I am straddling his lap. His eyes lock with mine and there's an emotion in them that I am sure neither of us is ready to talk about. His hips buck into me and I get the message, I place my hands on his shoulders and use them to raise myself and then impale myself on his cock, his hands grip my waist and set the pace. We move slowly as one, he is staring at me with such intensity that I can't stand it, I lean forward to kiss him. I get the feeling that this is actually us talking, soft caresses saying 'I missed you' and 'I'm sorry'. We slowly make our way to climax and afterwards Jack lays curled around me. I turn to face him as I feel his hot breath on my neck hitch. Jack doesn't sleep for long and I thought that he was waking. I see him frown in his sleep and wonder what he is dreaming about. I can't stop thinking about what this new position means; it is so intimate, so loving…what happened to the quick shags in the archives? Is this Jack's way of showing that he cares? Am I even ready for this? Sometimes I still find it odd when we face each other during sex. Tonight, the sex was like we were a couple, were we making love? My attention is diverted as Jack whimpered in his sleep, I try to shush him, soothe him but he wakes up gasping, terrified.

I asked Jack what was wrong and he buried his face into the crook of my neck. He finally told me what happened, the year that never was how the Master tortured and killed me in front of Jack's eyes for helping Martha. I wish I never knew, it is horrific what Jack went through and I can't help think that perhaps we haven't moved on. Perhaps we weren't making love; maybe Jack was just confirming to himself that I am still alive.