Fic: Doing It Both Ways - Chapter 3
Title: Doing It Both Ways 3/?, written with jadedgothchild
Pairing: Simm/Tennant; Doctor/Master
Rating: Getting pretty hard with the R, let's say mature
Warnings: This is our AU and totally not real. RPS and FPS stuff here, if you don't like that sort of thing, we think you shouldn't read it!
Disclaimer: Don't know the actors and don't own the characters. This is just us having some fun with them. Mean no harm.
Summary: David and John film some new scenes and live it a little. The Doctor and Master live it alot and only film it by accident.
Enjoy! We really are having a lot of fun writing this : )
Chapter 3
They both know how high the stakes are, the second David falls onto John with a noise that was much closer to a moan than he'd admit to. Their bodies fit together effortlessly, moving subtly to accommodate new pressures even as David tries to get to his feet and falls again.
John flips them easily, pinning David against the side of the pool, victory in his eyes and in his smirk. David wriggles and John forces a slow exhale instead of the growl he wants to make. Somehow David's legs ended up on either side of him, and they're both clearly more than a little aroused, he can feel it.
He follows the natural urge and leans closer, pressing down on David who's looking up at him with huge dark eyes, and he barely remembers to stop in time as David's leg pulls him down and he doesn't have to stifle his groan of, "Doctor..."
David's blinking up at him, clearly trying not to do something when cut is called, and John lifts himself off, settling on his knees and throwing a little bit of mud at him playfully, trying to break the tension before they do it again.
It doesn't work. It seems like they need a million angles, a hundred different takes. He's not sure when it happens, but somewhere after the tenth time things escalate. There he is, lying on top of David, looking down at him, at his parted lips, and abruptly he can't help himself. He closes the gap between them and kisses him, moaning so quietly that he was sure only David could hear it. A quick glide of his tongue over David's lip and he's gone again, pulling back to a safe distance.
"Doctor..." He breathes, realising the crew is gaping, hoping he can pass it off as an adlib. How he realises this he's not sure, since almost all of him is caught in a replay loop, feeling that kiss over and over, demanding more.
**
The air is thick around them, the moment suspended in time. Their eyes are locked on each other now, each daring the other to continue. The Master closes the final distance between them, almost hesitant, until their lips meet and the electricity surges. He moans slightly and presses the full weight of his body down onto the Doctor whose lips are soft and pliant against his. There is no more struggle and the Master pulls back from the kiss, but not before running his tongue along the Doctor's moist lips, savouring their unique taste once more. He releases his grip on the Doctor's wrists and they lie there, quiet, for one more moment before the Doctor manages to get to his feet.
There are no words spoken, not at first. The Doctor grabs on to the low lying tree branches for leverage and walks to the edge of the embankment, stripping off his coat when he gets there. He looks back at the Master, on his knees still surrounded by all that mud. He has never looked so...
Dirty. Dirty in all sorts of wrong ways.
**
Filming broke for a few hours and David caught John's eye as they walked to the dressing room their dry clothes were in, raising an eyebrow at him. Once they were alone he started stripping his clothes quickly, throwing them into the hamper and digging out clean ones.
"Did you see Barrowman's face after you kissed me? Priceless," David laughed, "Disappeared pretty quick once it looked like we were done too..."
"Well we are a very pretty picture," John replied, shooting him a glance that was trying not to look as admiring as it felt.
"Indeed we are," David agreed, pulling on his pants and turning around to grin at John, who like him was only wearing trousers and mud.
The challenge, the offer, is clear. All John has to do is take a step forward, so he does. David cocks his head and smiles gently. From there it's an awkward shuffle, one of them leans forward, the other follows suit, their eyes meet and they laugh a little, then get serious again, lean closer... Finally David growls and grabs the back of John's neck, pulling him in and kissing him properly, hard and demanding after hours of teasing and rolling about in the mud.
John lets out a sigh that sounds like a moan of surrender and grips David's hips, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, drowning in the sensation. It was strange that this should feel more forbidden than the way they'd been laying all over each other all day, but it did. Suddenly David's pushing at him, backing him against a wall and he's gasping, one hand in David's hair, the other on his arse, kneading firmly.
Their positions were reversed now, after hours of John being on top, pushing David down into the mud, and it set his mind reeling, wondering if this was how David had felt, as if he'd float away without the weight pinning him down.
"Thought that would never end," David purrs, kissing John's jaw, down to his neck, biting randomly and making John gasp.
"A million different angles, fifty takes for each shot... If I didn't like holding you down so much..." John manages between squirming and panting.
"I think," David murmurs, sucking John's earlobe into his mouth for a moment, "That was what made it so hard." There's the slightest emphasis on that last word, a little rock of David's hips. John moans almost too loudly, and he startles, looking past David's hair in his face to check the door.
"We should explore that in more depth..." John sighs, pushing one hand into the loose waistband of David's jeans, moulding his palm over his growing erection.
David moans softly and nods, leaning against John, one hand stroking up and down his thigh, "I agree..." He's just about to pop the button on John's jeans when there's a knock on the door and he pulls back like it's a shot, diving for his shirt and pulling it on before answering it irritably, terrifying the runner who'd come to fetch them.
**
He looks from the Master and out to the glistening, still water of the lake. He toes off his shoes and kicks them off as he loosens his tie and pulls it up over his head, tossing it to the side along with his shoes. He is not now looking at the Master, doesn't need to be to know he is being watched, can feel eyes upon him. He starts on his shirt; long, nimble fingers making quick time of each button and then he is peeling it off of his body, revealing his pale, slender torso streaked with drying mud.
The Master is frozen to the spot on his knees while the Doctor undresses. Piece by piece he bares himself at once a challenge and a dare. The Doctor is playing this game too, and playing it damned well, better than maybe the Master thought he would. He's skinnier than the Master can ever remember seeing him, with long arms that lead into equally as long and graceful fingers. He is gripped with the desire to worship those hands, to suck long fingers into his mouth and lick away the mud and the salt until he gets to the unique flavour underneath.
He watches as the Doctor strips first out of his pants and then his boxers, and is hit with the image of those long, lanky legs wrapped tightly around his body, or maybe pressed against either side of his head. There is a quirk to his lips, a small knowing smile, before he makes his way into the water and the Master laughs at the blatant shift of power.
He watches some more, jealous of the way the water gets to caress that lithe body. Not so sure anymore that the Doctor will break first.
**
Out in public, things got awkward fast. It was some kind of drug, this attraction between them, and David could feel the paranoia starting. He couldn't touch John anymore, though he wanted to. He couldn't make that dirty joke and give him that dirty look. Those five minutes in a dressing room had effectively locked him out of the secret club they'd had going. He was not at all impressed.
John too was having trouble, trying to integrate how he was suddenly thinking about David with how the Master thought about the Doctor. There it was all buried in arrogance and anger and centuries of history. The Master would never do half the things that John wanted to do. Hell, David would probably never do them either. This was just an on-set thing, he knew. It was supposed to be easy and light and a nice way to end a day of flirting. Except it was all wonky now, and he felt like the on screen flirting was just the feather, not the cap.
He kept brooding even as they got muddy again, had their makeup retouched, and slipped back into character. Then David was taking off his clothes, and there were cameras all pointed at him, at both of them, and he felt so exposed, kneeling there, watching. He could feel everyone's eyes on him and he was sure they were all talking, gossiping about strange noises from the dressing room, or that public kiss, or anything at all to do with he and David.
The next dialogue he had was almost uncannily therapeutic, and he spewed out his lines, making sure to hold his face back from the true expressions he wanted to make, to let the words speak for him. They shot it from three angles, one take each time. David looks a little surprised, then thoughtful, and John counts the minutes until they can be alone and honest.
**
He slides over to the same branch the Doctor had held on to, bringing himself up off his knees and sliding out of the mud, making his way towards the pile of discarded clothes. There is a predatory look in his eyes as he watches the Doctor dip down under the water, rinsing the last of the mud off his body.
Washing away the sin.
He reaches down to pick up the cast aside shirt, brings it to his nose and inhales deeply, taking in the distinct scent of the Doctor and exhaling with a low groan at the back of his throat. He glances up to see the Doctor looking back at him, chest high in the water, glistening as if he were some sort of God.
"I remember that smell." The Master says voice deep with arousal as he throws the shirt back to the ground. "It would linger on my bed, my hands...Linger in my mouth. There were times I thought I would never want to wash again. I wanted to keep your smell," he pauses, swallowing hard before continuing, "your taste, all over me."
"Do you remember, Doctor? Do you remember what I felt like, what I smelled like? Do you remember my taste?" He continues voice low and controlled.
"I remember." The Doctor says quietly.
The Master shakes his head slightly, questioning "You always left so quickly then. Always running away from me. Away from yourself. And never without your absolution, Doctor, never without standing under that hot water, so hot it might scald a human's skin. The same stream of water under which you would sometimes sink to your knees and worship me." He laughed before continuing, "So hypocritical, even then."
He walks closer to the water, taking off nothing as he wades in, moving towards the Doctor. "It was all part of it, wasn't it? Bowing to me, taking me in your mouth, allowing such an unspeakable intimacy. The burning hot water after, scrubbing every trace of me off of your skin until it was raw. Was that your penance? Bring me pleasure which in turn brings you anguish? Wash it all down the drain so you could live with yourself?"
"Why are you doing this?" The Doctor asks.
"You were always so guilty about being with me, about wanting me... Why didn't I feel any of it? Being with you was... If it was so wrong, if it was so bad, why don't I feel even a little guilty for wanting you, even now? Tell me Doctor, why?" There is a real emotion behind the rant, years of hurt and anger coming forth. "Do I need to pay for my sins, as you do? Would you have me then? Would you even want me then? Or is that it? Am I your ultimate penance, your constant reminder?"
Click Here for Chapter Four
Pairing: Simm/Tennant; Doctor/Master
Rating: Getting pretty hard with the R, let's say mature
Warnings: This is our AU and totally not real. RPS and FPS stuff here, if you don't like that sort of thing, we think you shouldn't read it!
Disclaimer: Don't know the actors and don't own the characters. This is just us having some fun with them. Mean no harm.
Summary: David and John film some new scenes and live it a little. The Doctor and Master live it alot and only film it by accident.
Enjoy! We really are having a lot of fun writing this : )
Chapter 3
They both know how high the stakes are, the second David falls onto John with a noise that was much closer to a moan than he'd admit to. Their bodies fit together effortlessly, moving subtly to accommodate new pressures even as David tries to get to his feet and falls again.
John flips them easily, pinning David against the side of the pool, victory in his eyes and in his smirk. David wriggles and John forces a slow exhale instead of the growl he wants to make. Somehow David's legs ended up on either side of him, and they're both clearly more than a little aroused, he can feel it.
He follows the natural urge and leans closer, pressing down on David who's looking up at him with huge dark eyes, and he barely remembers to stop in time as David's leg pulls him down and he doesn't have to stifle his groan of, "Doctor..."
David's blinking up at him, clearly trying not to do something when cut is called, and John lifts himself off, settling on his knees and throwing a little bit of mud at him playfully, trying to break the tension before they do it again.
It doesn't work. It seems like they need a million angles, a hundred different takes. He's not sure when it happens, but somewhere after the tenth time things escalate. There he is, lying on top of David, looking down at him, at his parted lips, and abruptly he can't help himself. He closes the gap between them and kisses him, moaning so quietly that he was sure only David could hear it. A quick glide of his tongue over David's lip and he's gone again, pulling back to a safe distance.
"Doctor..." He breathes, realising the crew is gaping, hoping he can pass it off as an adlib. How he realises this he's not sure, since almost all of him is caught in a replay loop, feeling that kiss over and over, demanding more.
**
The air is thick around them, the moment suspended in time. Their eyes are locked on each other now, each daring the other to continue. The Master closes the final distance between them, almost hesitant, until their lips meet and the electricity surges. He moans slightly and presses the full weight of his body down onto the Doctor whose lips are soft and pliant against his. There is no more struggle and the Master pulls back from the kiss, but not before running his tongue along the Doctor's moist lips, savouring their unique taste once more. He releases his grip on the Doctor's wrists and they lie there, quiet, for one more moment before the Doctor manages to get to his feet.
There are no words spoken, not at first. The Doctor grabs on to the low lying tree branches for leverage and walks to the edge of the embankment, stripping off his coat when he gets there. He looks back at the Master, on his knees still surrounded by all that mud. He has never looked so...
Dirty. Dirty in all sorts of wrong ways.
**
Filming broke for a few hours and David caught John's eye as they walked to the dressing room their dry clothes were in, raising an eyebrow at him. Once they were alone he started stripping his clothes quickly, throwing them into the hamper and digging out clean ones.
"Did you see Barrowman's face after you kissed me? Priceless," David laughed, "Disappeared pretty quick once it looked like we were done too..."
"Well we are a very pretty picture," John replied, shooting him a glance that was trying not to look as admiring as it felt.
"Indeed we are," David agreed, pulling on his pants and turning around to grin at John, who like him was only wearing trousers and mud.
The challenge, the offer, is clear. All John has to do is take a step forward, so he does. David cocks his head and smiles gently. From there it's an awkward shuffle, one of them leans forward, the other follows suit, their eyes meet and they laugh a little, then get serious again, lean closer... Finally David growls and grabs the back of John's neck, pulling him in and kissing him properly, hard and demanding after hours of teasing and rolling about in the mud.
John lets out a sigh that sounds like a moan of surrender and grips David's hips, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, drowning in the sensation. It was strange that this should feel more forbidden than the way they'd been laying all over each other all day, but it did. Suddenly David's pushing at him, backing him against a wall and he's gasping, one hand in David's hair, the other on his arse, kneading firmly.
Their positions were reversed now, after hours of John being on top, pushing David down into the mud, and it set his mind reeling, wondering if this was how David had felt, as if he'd float away without the weight pinning him down.
"Thought that would never end," David purrs, kissing John's jaw, down to his neck, biting randomly and making John gasp.
"A million different angles, fifty takes for each shot... If I didn't like holding you down so much..." John manages between squirming and panting.
"I think," David murmurs, sucking John's earlobe into his mouth for a moment, "That was what made it so hard." There's the slightest emphasis on that last word, a little rock of David's hips. John moans almost too loudly, and he startles, looking past David's hair in his face to check the door.
"We should explore that in more depth..." John sighs, pushing one hand into the loose waistband of David's jeans, moulding his palm over his growing erection.
David moans softly and nods, leaning against John, one hand stroking up and down his thigh, "I agree..." He's just about to pop the button on John's jeans when there's a knock on the door and he pulls back like it's a shot, diving for his shirt and pulling it on before answering it irritably, terrifying the runner who'd come to fetch them.
**
He looks from the Master and out to the glistening, still water of the lake. He toes off his shoes and kicks them off as he loosens his tie and pulls it up over his head, tossing it to the side along with his shoes. He is not now looking at the Master, doesn't need to be to know he is being watched, can feel eyes upon him. He starts on his shirt; long, nimble fingers making quick time of each button and then he is peeling it off of his body, revealing his pale, slender torso streaked with drying mud.
The Master is frozen to the spot on his knees while the Doctor undresses. Piece by piece he bares himself at once a challenge and a dare. The Doctor is playing this game too, and playing it damned well, better than maybe the Master thought he would. He's skinnier than the Master can ever remember seeing him, with long arms that lead into equally as long and graceful fingers. He is gripped with the desire to worship those hands, to suck long fingers into his mouth and lick away the mud and the salt until he gets to the unique flavour underneath.
He watches as the Doctor strips first out of his pants and then his boxers, and is hit with the image of those long, lanky legs wrapped tightly around his body, or maybe pressed against either side of his head. There is a quirk to his lips, a small knowing smile, before he makes his way into the water and the Master laughs at the blatant shift of power.
He watches some more, jealous of the way the water gets to caress that lithe body. Not so sure anymore that the Doctor will break first.
**
Out in public, things got awkward fast. It was some kind of drug, this attraction between them, and David could feel the paranoia starting. He couldn't touch John anymore, though he wanted to. He couldn't make that dirty joke and give him that dirty look. Those five minutes in a dressing room had effectively locked him out of the secret club they'd had going. He was not at all impressed.
John too was having trouble, trying to integrate how he was suddenly thinking about David with how the Master thought about the Doctor. There it was all buried in arrogance and anger and centuries of history. The Master would never do half the things that John wanted to do. Hell, David would probably never do them either. This was just an on-set thing, he knew. It was supposed to be easy and light and a nice way to end a day of flirting. Except it was all wonky now, and he felt like the on screen flirting was just the feather, not the cap.
He kept brooding even as they got muddy again, had their makeup retouched, and slipped back into character. Then David was taking off his clothes, and there were cameras all pointed at him, at both of them, and he felt so exposed, kneeling there, watching. He could feel everyone's eyes on him and he was sure they were all talking, gossiping about strange noises from the dressing room, or that public kiss, or anything at all to do with he and David.
The next dialogue he had was almost uncannily therapeutic, and he spewed out his lines, making sure to hold his face back from the true expressions he wanted to make, to let the words speak for him. They shot it from three angles, one take each time. David looks a little surprised, then thoughtful, and John counts the minutes until they can be alone and honest.
**
He slides over to the same branch the Doctor had held on to, bringing himself up off his knees and sliding out of the mud, making his way towards the pile of discarded clothes. There is a predatory look in his eyes as he watches the Doctor dip down under the water, rinsing the last of the mud off his body.
Washing away the sin.
He reaches down to pick up the cast aside shirt, brings it to his nose and inhales deeply, taking in the distinct scent of the Doctor and exhaling with a low groan at the back of his throat. He glances up to see the Doctor looking back at him, chest high in the water, glistening as if he were some sort of God.
"I remember that smell." The Master says voice deep with arousal as he throws the shirt back to the ground. "It would linger on my bed, my hands...Linger in my mouth. There were times I thought I would never want to wash again. I wanted to keep your smell," he pauses, swallowing hard before continuing, "your taste, all over me."
"Do you remember, Doctor? Do you remember what I felt like, what I smelled like? Do you remember my taste?" He continues voice low and controlled.
"I remember." The Doctor says quietly.
The Master shakes his head slightly, questioning "You always left so quickly then. Always running away from me. Away from yourself. And never without your absolution, Doctor, never without standing under that hot water, so hot it might scald a human's skin. The same stream of water under which you would sometimes sink to your knees and worship me." He laughed before continuing, "So hypocritical, even then."
He walks closer to the water, taking off nothing as he wades in, moving towards the Doctor. "It was all part of it, wasn't it? Bowing to me, taking me in your mouth, allowing such an unspeakable intimacy. The burning hot water after, scrubbing every trace of me off of your skin until it was raw. Was that your penance? Bring me pleasure which in turn brings you anguish? Wash it all down the drain so you could live with yourself?"
"Why are you doing this?" The Doctor asks.
"You were always so guilty about being with me, about wanting me... Why didn't I feel any of it? Being with you was... If it was so wrong, if it was so bad, why don't I feel even a little guilty for wanting you, even now? Tell me Doctor, why?" There is a real emotion behind the rant, years of hurt and anger coming forth. "Do I need to pay for my sins, as you do? Would you have me then? Would you even want me then? Or is that it? Am I your ultimate penance, your constant reminder?"
Click Here for Chapter Four