Fic: Doing It Both Ways - Chapter 2
Title: Doing It Both Ways 2/?, written with jadedgothchild
Pairing: Tennant/Simm; Doctor/Master
Rating: This part is R, future will be NC 17
Summary: John and David film the new story and live it a little. The Doctor and Master live it alot and only film it accidentally.
Warning: This is totally AU and involves FPS and RPS. IF this is not your sort of thing, we suggest you don't read it!
Disclaimer: We don't own the characters and we don't know the actors. This is just having some fun with them.
Chapter two
He walks the long halls through the belly of the ship, remembering once that the Doctor told him it was bigger on the inside.
Place is as big as a bloody palace when you want it to be.
He approaches what he knows to be the console room, sure that the Doctor is in there, waiting for him to make an entrance. He enters the room, sweeping in like he owns the place, finding the Doctor sitting casually, feet propped up and eyes toward the ceiling, barely even registering his presence in the room.
Yet it can feel like a prison. Wonder which of us is the prisoner?
"Have a nice nap?" The Doctor says, sly smile at his own attempt at small talk.
"Fabulous." The Master says dryly as he leans up against the quiet control panel. "You know, on the Valiant we had king sized beds covered in luxurious satin sheets. But you wouldn't know that, would you? You chose to sleep in that pathetic little tent. You know you could have shared my... You could have had a bed to sleep in. Like your Captain. Ooh, that man knows luxurious pleasure... I digress. My point is- that slab is not a bed.
The Doctor cocks an eye at the Master, almost happy to see that he is well enough already to start their dance. "Had Captain Jack in your bed? Big surprise there. You know they call him Captain Slut for a reason." The Doctor casts his eyes around the room. "Besides, never had much need for luxurious anything around here, certainly not the beds. They get the job done."
"Oh the poor Doctor. They get the job done? You mean Martha, or even the lovely Rose didn't mind?" The Master paused before continuing "Oh, of course they didn't mind. Silly little girls, they loved you, worshipped their almighty Time Lord. And Jack, well he is a bit of a queen, a little mushy for my taste. Cast him off to Lucy, after the first few times. In fact, she told me about this little game they used to play, where he got to be the Doctor and she...."
"Enough." The Doctor says, standing up. "It wasn't like that with any of them. I don't, I mean we don't...it wasn't like that."
"You mean you never?" The Master laughs. "Not even with the handsome, willing Captain?" He walks towards the Doctor, invading his personal space best as he can, already pushing, already wanting to play, and speaking his words low and clear. "Now that is shame, Doctor. Tell me, how long has it been?"
"Since I slept in a comfortable bed you mean?" He replies, not standing down, tone casual. "I do just fine, thank you." The Doctor gathers himself, walks past the Master and heads to the doors. "Tell me, Master," he says, reaching for the door, about to open it. "You are a lover of all things luxurious and beautiful. When was the last time you saw anything that took your breath away?"
The Master walks towards him, clearly curious as to the direction this conversation is going. "Why Doctor, are you planning on taking my breath away?"
The Doctor opens the doors.
I just might be.
**
The first scene in the TARDIS was supposed to be easy. The lines could be played and taken lots of ways; it was supposed to be a gentle introduction to what was going to be a challenging storyline for a show that was just easing away from its family roots. Only when they rehearsed it the first few times, it practically screamed sex. David found himself actually sucking on the pen in his hand as he listened to John's lines, grinning at him around it and tipping his head back, watching him upside down. John sauntered toward him, standing close enough that unless he moved, David's head was crotch height. That was not supposed to be an attractive prospect, especially for the Doctor.
John couldn't help responding when David looked at him like that. Even if his mind was still stoutly in denial, his body knew when he was being flirted with, and when he liked it and wanted to flirt back. He fights the urge to touch him, settling for standing suggestively, then leaning back against the table that represented the console, ankles crossed in front of him, leaning back on spread arms. They run it only a few times before moving on, which is good. The more they did it the larger their gestures got, until he was bending over David and practically licking his ear as he spoke. In fact, he's pretty sure he's blocked out a little patch of his memory because of that very thing he should not have been doing.
When he gets home that night he's got Secret Smile with him, and settles in to watch, determined to figure out what it is he's got going for David. By the end of it he knows two things. That he's sick and twisted for finding that kind of man hot, and that he finds that sick and twisted man incredibly hot mostly because he's wearing David's body.
**
The doors are open now, and the orange light is as stunning as it is blinding. The Master has to get closer to it, wants to touch it, feel it on his skin. He strides closer to the Doctor, closer to the open doors and he steps out into the glorious light...and falls.
The Doctor is horrified at first, thinking that he didn't come all this way just to kill the Master with a fall from his space ship. He looks down to see where the Master landed, wincing a bit before realising they are in a low lying tree and that his companion is now lying quite ungracefully in what could only be described as a large pool of mud. He shouts down to him, trying to stifle his laughter.
"Everything alright down there?" He shouts.
The Master tries to stand up, makes it halfway up and slips, falling with a loud thud. He raises his hands like a petulant child, bringing them down in the thick gooey substance, splattering even more on his face as he does so. "Great, wonderful Doctor. Just great." He almost yells. "I see you've gotten no better at landing." He is rolling his eyes and cursing to himself in ten different languages before he realises that he can use this scenario to his advantage.
Wonder if the Doctor fancies some mud wrestling? We all have our kinks.
"Something funny?" He asks when he hears the laughter getting louder from a few feet above him.
"No , no...sorry." The Doctor laughs some more. "It's just that, you know, that really is a rather good look for you." His laughter subsides a bit as he realizes it really is a good look for him.
But then, isn't everything a good look for him?
"Funny, I was thinking that you might look good this way." The Master tries to get up again, rising to his knees and placing his hands on his thighs as he does so. "Why don't you come down here and we can find out."
There it was, that little catch of his breath. That lick of desire, the one he had always been able to push away before.
He's baiting you. Don't fall for it. Not yet.
"Come on old friend, you're a big boy, you can get out of that mess yourself." Is all he can come up with.
The Master smiles. "How about if this big boy promises to call you daddy? Does the Doctor like that sort of thing?"
Silence is telling. Say something. Say anything.
"Hit a nerve, did I? Well then, I'll have to remember that. Now really, come and help your Master."
The Doctor leaped out onto the tree, climbing down the branches like they used to do when they were children, cursing the intonation of that last word. He stops at the lowest branch to the ground, looking around for something the Master can hold on to when he feels his foot start to slip out from under him. He manages to catch himself a little before there are hands pulling him down, and he falls awkwardly on top of the Master, letting out a groan as he lands, his breath nearly knocked out of him.
That noise. God that noise. Which one of us made that noise?
**
"So, mud wrestling then," John says, taking a seat next to David and inhaling deeply from his coffee. Today is their first try shooting the scene, and while he's psyched to be getting to play in the mud like a kid, it's cold and gross outside, and he's not really in the mood to flirt. Unless it involved flannel pyjamas, lots of blankets, and a movie. Maybe a nice glass of wine. An image of he and David cuddled together on a couch watching something floated through his mind, and he smiled before catching himself and frowning.
"Could've picked a better day for it, I reckon. Not to mention better costumes. Really. Isn't mud wrestling usually done in bikinis?" David asks, looking John over obviously, "You'd do alright in one of those, give you a nice black and white one like the suit."
John snorts, "You think bikinis would be better? You're a sick man, Tennant. Besides, waxing my legs takes forever, and I refuse to go out all hairy." He sniffs a little and sips his coffee.
David's sure his eyes glaze over for a moment there, thinking about John, waxed legs, and bikini bottoms really not up to the task they were supposed to be doing, "Lord save us from vanity." He offers, raising his hands to the sky. Nothing happens, and he huffs, "Never a good coincidence when you need one."
"Sure, only if you want to get smited too. I've seen how much product you put in your hair," John snorts, ruffling it and waving his hand in David's face as proof, "See? Look at the crap I have on my hand right now."
Of course, that would be the moment that John Barrowman sidles over, smirking and ready with the obvious joke, "Life imitating art already boys?" He cocks an eyebrow at John's hand, which does look kind of like someone might have at least tried to come on it.
"Always about the sex with you people," They chant in accidental unison, shooting each other grins that clearly read 'we're awesome!’
John gapes a little, "Oh my god you totally are!"
David blinks at him, "We aren't, thanks. Get your mind out of the gutter. Is there not enough porn out there for you already?"
"Not such pretty porn... Look, why don't you both come over and get pissed tonight, and we'll see what happens." He offers them a telling smirk and leans against the wall suggestively.
"I don't think so, but we'll email you the video. Just so you're in the loop," John drawls from behind his coffee, "Hang on, what are you even doing here? You're not scheduled on for a few weeks... Perv."
"Mud wrestling. It's a weakness," John admitted, shrugging casually, "I could be your coach?"
David snorts at the suggestion and opens his mouth to say something, but a runner dashes over, and it's time to work. He leaves with a parting, "Don't enjoy the show too much."
The scene is called and they move into place. The mud pit they have is about half a metre deep and full of unexpected clumps that John's tempted to start throwing at the crew. Then he catches David's eye, up in the tree, and he's right there, in the Master's head and needing to seduce the Doctor, craving the victory over self denial and asceticism that the Doctor's adopted as his penance. Every time he falls he makes sure to splay his legs just so, or jut his hip out. He loses his jacket to the mud and for the next five takes David's eyes are glued to his chest.
David decides the second John falls into the mud that this concept deserves much more consideration. He struggles to get his lines out without leaping from the tree and tackling John, rolling around in the mud. The wrestling rehearsals had been too brief and only an imitation of this. John says something about calling him daddy and he damn near moans, once again overwhelmed by the sympathetic desire he felt for John. It was just a character reaction that flipped over, that was fine, happened a lot, actually. He just hated that it was making him sloppy. He couldn't get any subtlety, he felt like he had a neon sign on his head that said 'PANTING FOR IT'.
He's been watching Life on Mars. At first, to see if a few quick ones off the wrist wouldn't solve his fascination, but instead it made it worse. Every night when he came home he watched one, drawing it out and savouring it. It was the kiss scene that got to him, at last, the night before the mud scene shoot. The tentative way Sam and Annie shuffled together, John's face, his eyes and the way his lips quirked trying to hold back larger movement... It was magnificent, and David wanted. He didn't want just a quick grope, or shag in a dressing room, he wanted that kiss, and lots of other kisses like it, where they weren't pretending it was all the characters and just natural stress relief and all those other excuses for the way they're acting.
**
The Doctor tries immediately to get up but succeeds in nothing more than slipping again, falling once more on top of the Master who uses the momentum to roll them over and pin him, slippery but firm hands held on to his wrists. There is a pause as the Doctor tries to catch his breath, and he closes his eyes for another pause when he feels hardness pressing against his thigh. He tries to wriggle away, surprised at the strength of the recently injured man above him. There is a hitched breath, slight, like the moan before only this time he knows that he made the sound. He stops fighting and opens his eyes to look up at the Master, who is staring back down at him with what could only be called intense heat. The Doctor stills underneath him as he is caught up in the moment. This may have started as a coy game, but the want now feels very real and not like a game at all.
The Master is looking into his eyes at first, then to his lips and the Doctor can feel himself being pulled in. Their faces are inches apart, their lips sharing the same breath and the Master is looking into his eyes again. The Doctor makes the next play, using the quiet moment to hook a leg over the side of the Master, a little more forcefully than need be, bringing their bodies that much closer together and eliciting the most vulgar sound out of his opponent.
The Master’s eyes are closed when he murmurs the word. One word, a name really, nothing more then letters strung together. But the way he swallows deliberately before the word comes out, the way each letter hangs on his tongue and the delicious way it ghosts past his lips leaves it dripping with sin.
“Doctor.”
Click Here for Chapter Three
Pairing: Tennant/Simm; Doctor/Master
Rating: This part is R, future will be NC 17
Summary: John and David film the new story and live it a little. The Doctor and Master live it alot and only film it accidentally.
Warning: This is totally AU and involves FPS and RPS. IF this is not your sort of thing, we suggest you don't read it!
Disclaimer: We don't own the characters and we don't know the actors. This is just having some fun with them.
Chapter two
He walks the long halls through the belly of the ship, remembering once that the Doctor told him it was bigger on the inside.
Place is as big as a bloody palace when you want it to be.
He approaches what he knows to be the console room, sure that the Doctor is in there, waiting for him to make an entrance. He enters the room, sweeping in like he owns the place, finding the Doctor sitting casually, feet propped up and eyes toward the ceiling, barely even registering his presence in the room.
Yet it can feel like a prison. Wonder which of us is the prisoner?
"Have a nice nap?" The Doctor says, sly smile at his own attempt at small talk.
"Fabulous." The Master says dryly as he leans up against the quiet control panel. "You know, on the Valiant we had king sized beds covered in luxurious satin sheets. But you wouldn't know that, would you? You chose to sleep in that pathetic little tent. You know you could have shared my... You could have had a bed to sleep in. Like your Captain. Ooh, that man knows luxurious pleasure... I digress. My point is- that slab is not a bed.
The Doctor cocks an eye at the Master, almost happy to see that he is well enough already to start their dance. "Had Captain Jack in your bed? Big surprise there. You know they call him Captain Slut for a reason." The Doctor casts his eyes around the room. "Besides, never had much need for luxurious anything around here, certainly not the beds. They get the job done."
"Oh the poor Doctor. They get the job done? You mean Martha, or even the lovely Rose didn't mind?" The Master paused before continuing "Oh, of course they didn't mind. Silly little girls, they loved you, worshipped their almighty Time Lord. And Jack, well he is a bit of a queen, a little mushy for my taste. Cast him off to Lucy, after the first few times. In fact, she told me about this little game they used to play, where he got to be the Doctor and she...."
"Enough." The Doctor says, standing up. "It wasn't like that with any of them. I don't, I mean we don't...it wasn't like that."
"You mean you never?" The Master laughs. "Not even with the handsome, willing Captain?" He walks towards the Doctor, invading his personal space best as he can, already pushing, already wanting to play, and speaking his words low and clear. "Now that is shame, Doctor. Tell me, how long has it been?"
"Since I slept in a comfortable bed you mean?" He replies, not standing down, tone casual. "I do just fine, thank you." The Doctor gathers himself, walks past the Master and heads to the doors. "Tell me, Master," he says, reaching for the door, about to open it. "You are a lover of all things luxurious and beautiful. When was the last time you saw anything that took your breath away?"
The Master walks towards him, clearly curious as to the direction this conversation is going. "Why Doctor, are you planning on taking my breath away?"
The Doctor opens the doors.
I just might be.
**
The first scene in the TARDIS was supposed to be easy. The lines could be played and taken lots of ways; it was supposed to be a gentle introduction to what was going to be a challenging storyline for a show that was just easing away from its family roots. Only when they rehearsed it the first few times, it practically screamed sex. David found himself actually sucking on the pen in his hand as he listened to John's lines, grinning at him around it and tipping his head back, watching him upside down. John sauntered toward him, standing close enough that unless he moved, David's head was crotch height. That was not supposed to be an attractive prospect, especially for the Doctor.
John couldn't help responding when David looked at him like that. Even if his mind was still stoutly in denial, his body knew when he was being flirted with, and when he liked it and wanted to flirt back. He fights the urge to touch him, settling for standing suggestively, then leaning back against the table that represented the console, ankles crossed in front of him, leaning back on spread arms. They run it only a few times before moving on, which is good. The more they did it the larger their gestures got, until he was bending over David and practically licking his ear as he spoke. In fact, he's pretty sure he's blocked out a little patch of his memory because of that very thing he should not have been doing.
When he gets home that night he's got Secret Smile with him, and settles in to watch, determined to figure out what it is he's got going for David. By the end of it he knows two things. That he's sick and twisted for finding that kind of man hot, and that he finds that sick and twisted man incredibly hot mostly because he's wearing David's body.
**
The doors are open now, and the orange light is as stunning as it is blinding. The Master has to get closer to it, wants to touch it, feel it on his skin. He strides closer to the Doctor, closer to the open doors and he steps out into the glorious light...and falls.
The Doctor is horrified at first, thinking that he didn't come all this way just to kill the Master with a fall from his space ship. He looks down to see where the Master landed, wincing a bit before realising they are in a low lying tree and that his companion is now lying quite ungracefully in what could only be described as a large pool of mud. He shouts down to him, trying to stifle his laughter.
"Everything alright down there?" He shouts.
The Master tries to stand up, makes it halfway up and slips, falling with a loud thud. He raises his hands like a petulant child, bringing them down in the thick gooey substance, splattering even more on his face as he does so. "Great, wonderful Doctor. Just great." He almost yells. "I see you've gotten no better at landing." He is rolling his eyes and cursing to himself in ten different languages before he realises that he can use this scenario to his advantage.
Wonder if the Doctor fancies some mud wrestling? We all have our kinks.
"Something funny?" He asks when he hears the laughter getting louder from a few feet above him.
"No , no...sorry." The Doctor laughs some more. "It's just that, you know, that really is a rather good look for you." His laughter subsides a bit as he realizes it really is a good look for him.
But then, isn't everything a good look for him?
"Funny, I was thinking that you might look good this way." The Master tries to get up again, rising to his knees and placing his hands on his thighs as he does so. "Why don't you come down here and we can find out."
There it was, that little catch of his breath. That lick of desire, the one he had always been able to push away before.
He's baiting you. Don't fall for it. Not yet.
"Come on old friend, you're a big boy, you can get out of that mess yourself." Is all he can come up with.
The Master smiles. "How about if this big boy promises to call you daddy? Does the Doctor like that sort of thing?"
Silence is telling. Say something. Say anything.
"Hit a nerve, did I? Well then, I'll have to remember that. Now really, come and help your Master."
The Doctor leaped out onto the tree, climbing down the branches like they used to do when they were children, cursing the intonation of that last word. He stops at the lowest branch to the ground, looking around for something the Master can hold on to when he feels his foot start to slip out from under him. He manages to catch himself a little before there are hands pulling him down, and he falls awkwardly on top of the Master, letting out a groan as he lands, his breath nearly knocked out of him.
That noise. God that noise. Which one of us made that noise?
**
"So, mud wrestling then," John says, taking a seat next to David and inhaling deeply from his coffee. Today is their first try shooting the scene, and while he's psyched to be getting to play in the mud like a kid, it's cold and gross outside, and he's not really in the mood to flirt. Unless it involved flannel pyjamas, lots of blankets, and a movie. Maybe a nice glass of wine. An image of he and David cuddled together on a couch watching something floated through his mind, and he smiled before catching himself and frowning.
"Could've picked a better day for it, I reckon. Not to mention better costumes. Really. Isn't mud wrestling usually done in bikinis?" David asks, looking John over obviously, "You'd do alright in one of those, give you a nice black and white one like the suit."
John snorts, "You think bikinis would be better? You're a sick man, Tennant. Besides, waxing my legs takes forever, and I refuse to go out all hairy." He sniffs a little and sips his coffee.
David's sure his eyes glaze over for a moment there, thinking about John, waxed legs, and bikini bottoms really not up to the task they were supposed to be doing, "Lord save us from vanity." He offers, raising his hands to the sky. Nothing happens, and he huffs, "Never a good coincidence when you need one."
"Sure, only if you want to get smited too. I've seen how much product you put in your hair," John snorts, ruffling it and waving his hand in David's face as proof, "See? Look at the crap I have on my hand right now."
Of course, that would be the moment that John Barrowman sidles over, smirking and ready with the obvious joke, "Life imitating art already boys?" He cocks an eyebrow at John's hand, which does look kind of like someone might have at least tried to come on it.
"Always about the sex with you people," They chant in accidental unison, shooting each other grins that clearly read 'we're awesome!’
John gapes a little, "Oh my god you totally are!"
David blinks at him, "We aren't, thanks. Get your mind out of the gutter. Is there not enough porn out there for you already?"
"Not such pretty porn... Look, why don't you both come over and get pissed tonight, and we'll see what happens." He offers them a telling smirk and leans against the wall suggestively.
"I don't think so, but we'll email you the video. Just so you're in the loop," John drawls from behind his coffee, "Hang on, what are you even doing here? You're not scheduled on for a few weeks... Perv."
"Mud wrestling. It's a weakness," John admitted, shrugging casually, "I could be your coach?"
David snorts at the suggestion and opens his mouth to say something, but a runner dashes over, and it's time to work. He leaves with a parting, "Don't enjoy the show too much."
The scene is called and they move into place. The mud pit they have is about half a metre deep and full of unexpected clumps that John's tempted to start throwing at the crew. Then he catches David's eye, up in the tree, and he's right there, in the Master's head and needing to seduce the Doctor, craving the victory over self denial and asceticism that the Doctor's adopted as his penance. Every time he falls he makes sure to splay his legs just so, or jut his hip out. He loses his jacket to the mud and for the next five takes David's eyes are glued to his chest.
David decides the second John falls into the mud that this concept deserves much more consideration. He struggles to get his lines out without leaping from the tree and tackling John, rolling around in the mud. The wrestling rehearsals had been too brief and only an imitation of this. John says something about calling him daddy and he damn near moans, once again overwhelmed by the sympathetic desire he felt for John. It was just a character reaction that flipped over, that was fine, happened a lot, actually. He just hated that it was making him sloppy. He couldn't get any subtlety, he felt like he had a neon sign on his head that said 'PANTING FOR IT'.
He's been watching Life on Mars. At first, to see if a few quick ones off the wrist wouldn't solve his fascination, but instead it made it worse. Every night when he came home he watched one, drawing it out and savouring it. It was the kiss scene that got to him, at last, the night before the mud scene shoot. The tentative way Sam and Annie shuffled together, John's face, his eyes and the way his lips quirked trying to hold back larger movement... It was magnificent, and David wanted. He didn't want just a quick grope, or shag in a dressing room, he wanted that kiss, and lots of other kisses like it, where they weren't pretending it was all the characters and just natural stress relief and all those other excuses for the way they're acting.
**
The Doctor tries immediately to get up but succeeds in nothing more than slipping again, falling once more on top of the Master who uses the momentum to roll them over and pin him, slippery but firm hands held on to his wrists. There is a pause as the Doctor tries to catch his breath, and he closes his eyes for another pause when he feels hardness pressing against his thigh. He tries to wriggle away, surprised at the strength of the recently injured man above him. There is a hitched breath, slight, like the moan before only this time he knows that he made the sound. He stops fighting and opens his eyes to look up at the Master, who is staring back down at him with what could only be called intense heat. The Doctor stills underneath him as he is caught up in the moment. This may have started as a coy game, but the want now feels very real and not like a game at all.
The Master is looking into his eyes at first, then to his lips and the Doctor can feel himself being pulled in. Their faces are inches apart, their lips sharing the same breath and the Master is looking into his eyes again. The Doctor makes the next play, using the quiet moment to hook a leg over the side of the Master, a little more forcefully than need be, bringing their bodies that much closer together and eliciting the most vulgar sound out of his opponent.
The Master’s eyes are closed when he murmurs the word. One word, a name really, nothing more then letters strung together. But the way he swallows deliberately before the word comes out, the way each letter hangs on his tongue and the delicious way it ghosts past his lips leaves it dripping with sin.
“Doctor.”
Click Here for Chapter Three