Fic: Doing It Both Ways Chapter 4
Title: Doing It Both Ways 4/?, written with jadedgothchild
Pairing: Simm/Tennant; Doctor/Master
Rating: This part, totally NC 17
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.
***We'd like to note at this juncture that this is pretty cracky. Dr Who does not film porn. We do. Dr Who does not take three days to film two scenes. We do. John Simm is married. We like to pretend he's not. David Tennant is also in a heterosexual relationship. Bollocks to that.
In conclusion: Abandon reality all ye who enter here.***
Chapter 4
There's a confident knock on his door and David scampers to open it, expecting John. It is, but not the right one. He ushers him in with a slightly less enthusiastic grin than he might have given his other co-star.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" He asks, hopping up onto a table and looking at John suspiciously. The idea that this is just a social call kind of fades with a look at John's face. He's got his mouth twisted into his 'how do I put this' pout and that can only mean awkwardness.
"Wanted to congratulate you on those scenes. Very authentic," John says after a pause, "You and John work really well together."
David nods, "Thanks. Everything's better with mud. Except, you know, dinner and stuff."
John laughs obligingly, then raises his point again, "It's really impressive, the way you look so sincerely hot for him."
"Uh, yeah. Well, he's not hard on the eye, is he?" David points out hopefully, "And good, you know. It's easy to act like that when he's so..." He trails off and shrugs, admitting defeat. John would get it out of him, and offer advice and admonition like the big gay auntie he secretly was.
"You're going to end up in bed with him. If you haven't already," John says sternly, "So I'm obligated to advise you. Don't let it fuck up work, and don't let work fuck it up. You know it'll end badly for the characters, brace yourself and don't end up hating him. He's a good guy."
David looks down and swings his feet, "Of course. We're professionals. Not that I am sleeping with him. I mean, not that I wouldn't or anything or... Fuck. Does everyone know?"
John snorts, "Who said anything about sleeping? I'm talking about you having sex with that gorgeous piece of talent, and so is half the crew. They still think they're imagining things though. I, of course, know better..." He fixes David with a look, "You'll want to get your shit together if you have a hope of keeping it quiet."
There's a knock on the door and David thanks whatever deities might be listening for the mercy.
"Hey, thought we could-" John says, cutting himself off for a moment when he notices the other John lounging on the sofa, "Go for a drink. You're not done, sorry. I'll just..."
"Of course I'm done. John was just..." David waves a hand, and obediently John gets up and moves to the door, giving David a smirk and John a wink.
"I didn't mean to interrupt..."
David waves away the apology carelessly, "Glad you showed up actually, you know what he's like. Talking constantly about things he should just stay away from."
John frowns, unable to squash the stupid tendril of jealousy winding its way through his thoughts. It was ridiculous. Barrowman was married, for god's sake, but... he flirted with everything that moved and touched and even licked sometimes and it made John want to do something horribly uncivilised. He really shouldn't be thinking about this. David's looking at him with a worried face on, and he does his best to snap out of it.
The moment stretches, then yawns, and still neither of them are moving or saying anything, caught in a contemplation cycle that can only lead to doubt. Finally David breaks it.
"So... let me get my stuff and then we'll get that drink, hey?" He asks, giving John a gentle little smile, then a quick kiss, "And try not to look so damn pretty all the time. It's very distracting."
**
The Master drops to his knees in the shallow water, arms raised in an exaggerated manner towards the sky. "Is this what you want? Me on my knees, like you once were? Begging for forgiveness? For absolution?"
The Doctor advances on him, there on his knees, still half covered in mud. He is painfully aware of his nudity now as the water no longer covers him, but he keeps up the front, meets and exceeds the challenge as he scoops the cool water up with one hand and brings it to the Master's head. He lets it trickle slowly out of his fingers and through the Master's hair.
The moment is poignant, more so than either man expected it to be. The Doctor brings his hand down, letting it rest on the Master's damp cheek for a moment, before bringing it down further, cupping his chin in his hand and running his thumb over his lips. "I forgive you." He says softly.
"What?" The Master asks in a hoarse voice, fighting the urge to draw that thumb into his mouth.
"It's what you asked for, isn't it? Absolution? I'm offering it to you. This could be our chance, the chance for you and me. Don't you see it? Think of it...a fresh start. No Time War to fight, no hidden agendas...No running." He stops at the feel of hands upon his skin, closes his eyes and leans in to the touch slightly before pulling away. "It could be better...Better than before. Better than either of us has known, more than either of us deserve."
With all the courage he can find, he walks away, back to the Tardis, but not before playing just one more card.
"Master." He calls, the word spilling from his lips just so. Their eyes meet. "I like you on your knees. Begging."
**
They end up at John's place, not wanting to face putting on public faces for what was essentially their first date. So they sit on the floor, leaning up against the sofa, a bottle between them and glasses in their hands. John still can't shake the awkward feeling that he's too invested, that it'll all go tits up and he'll be bleeding on the side of the metaphorical road. At least, he feels like that whenever David's not smiling at him. It's hard to think when he is.
"Nude scene tomorrow," he says, remembering abruptly.
"They're letting me wear some underpants," David replies, sounding grateful, "But I could do without Barrowman staring."
John snorts, "Couldn't we all. That man's got a leer on him you can see from three blocks away. Still... He's got a point." He smirks and looks David over, then drains his glass and pours another, hoping for some Dutch courage. It had been so easy before, why wasn't it now?
David smiles and raises his glass, then empties it and pours another. This thing with John is singing underneath his skin, a tempting ache, anticipation building inexorably. He wants it for as long as he can, even if it feels like it might kill him.
They're silent for a while, and another half hour passes with sporadic small talk. They drink with a silent consensus that it will make things easier, and it's not until David's sure he's got a buzz on that he lets his arm come to rest on the couch behind them, invading John's space.
"Are you trying to take advantage of me, Mr Tennant?" John asks voice low.
David grins, "Who, me? Never. Fuck you silly, maybe...."
"On the first date?" John squeaks, trying to sound scandalised.
David laughs and slides his hand up into John's hair, "You think you could say no? Because that sounds like a challenge to me..."
John laughs, leans into the touch, and he's about to answer when his phone rings. By the time he's done David is gone, and there's a post-it on the glass he'd used.
"Antici..."
The next day on set is a lot less weird than he'd thought it would be. They smile and laugh, make small talk. If it's not as cosy as it was before, no one says anything. Besides, it's easy to chalk it up to nerves about the upcoming scene. It's scheduled as the last (achievable) scene of the day, and to be honest, although it draws out the suspense, he’s glad. He doesn't think he'll be good for much once they've done it. At least, not until he's had a moment or five to himself.
Filming goes smoothly, a closed set saves them from John's teasing. The only real problem is that his eye line leads directly to David's cock. He compensates by watching David's face intently, committing every little nuance to memory, the way his mouth quirks and shapes words, the way his wet hair sticks out at all kinds of angles.
The heat is almost palpable, rising between them. His skin prickles with the knowledge that everyone can see them, more than that; they're all watching them intently. It takes an age to film it all, but finally they're sent on their way, and it's all John can do not to grab David and pull him into the nearest shadowy corner.
He dives into the water to wash off the mud they've had to put back on him, then stands there dripping, eyeing the cables dubiously and wondering how well insulated everything really is.
"Idiot," David snorts, offering him the big fluffy robe he'd been wrapped up in, using the opportunity to purr into his ear, "Let's gets you out of those and into something more comfortable. My bed, maybe..."
The second the door to the dressing room closes he pins David up against the wall, kissing him furiously, hands rough and demanding on his chest, his arms, his back, everywhere at once. He didn't want to wait any more, it was too much. They'd been teasing and flirting and touching too long and he'd had enough.
"You are such a fucking tease," he growls, biting a line down the column of David's throat, fingers tucking under the waistband of his flesh coloured underpants (which were never attractive, even on David,) and tugging them down, continuing his trail of bites down David's chest, paying particular attention to his left nipple, tugging and twisting, wringing all sorts of delicious but stifled noises from him.
"God... John stop... We have to... not do this here..." David pants, arching up, one hand on John's head, the other scratching up his back, "No, really... There's no way I can keep quiet."
John pulls back and grins, running a finger along David's lip, "I can fix that..."
David smirks and licks John's finger, closing his lips around the tip.
Through his lust John manages to look around and aim for the sofa as he pulls David with him, landing in a wet tangle. He struggles to get out of his clothes with David's hands groping him, with his mouth a burning point wherever it goes. Finally he gets his pants off, or at least down to his ankles where they can't impede him, and guides David down with a hand on his neck, not that he needs convincing, or hurrying. Before he knows it there's brilliant wet heat around him, and he finally notices how cold he the rest of him is, simply by how devastatingly hot David's mouth feels, tongue and lips working around and over. Suddenly he's the one with a need to be quiet, and he really should have foreseen this. He would have, if he weren't so drunk on it all, strung out on days of this teasing torture.
Biting down on his arm seems reasonable, given that he's not stopping for all the world. Russell bloody Davies could walk in and he doubts he'd let David go. Instead, he uses the hand he has in David's hair to urge him on, faster, harder. He lasts practically not at all, tugging on David's hair lightly in warning and biting his arm to smother his unmistakably sexual groan as he comes.
When he catches his breath, David is still on his knees, looking up at him with shiny pink lips, and he strokes his head gently, "I like you on your knees."
**
They are back on the ship, both cleansed of the mud and dry. There has not been much talk since the Master came back on board awhile after the Doctor left him there on the embankment. The Master had come back to find the Doctor tinkering at the consoles, mumbling something about manoeuvring out of the tree and landing on lower ground. The Master had glared at him and shuffled off, coming back soon enough and reiterating that the cold slabs of metal were not suitable for sleep, or anything else for that matter.
The Doctor gestures towards a chair, "Used to be Rose's favourite picked it up at a flea market on twentieth century Earth. She'd curl up like a cat in that thing and sleep four hours at a time."
"Do you miss it?" The Master asks, sinking himself down into the chair.
"What Rose sleeping in the chair? Nah snored a lot, that one, can't believe such a shameful noise could come out of such a pretty little thing." He shrugged.
The Master closes his eyes briefly, letting his mind wander to the shameful noises he would like to hear come out of the pretty little thing standing in front of him. "Do you miss her I mean, any of them? Your human companions."
The Doctor didn't hesitate with his answer as he continued to toy with the console. "I have a companion."
The Master drifts off to sleep quickly in the comfortable chair, surrounded by the presence of the Doctor. He finds he even permeates his dreams and wakes with a start while images of a particularly naughty encounter cloud his mind.
"Do you dream a lot?" The Doctor asks him without looking at him. "I miss dreams, used to have them a lot before...Well, a long time ago."
The Master rises from the chair and walks towards the Doctor.
Finally he looks at the Master, "What were you dreaming about? You looked affright for awhile, and then you were sort of twitching about, making incomprehensible noises. I started to worry, I did."
"Were you watching me, Doctor?" The Master says lazily, voice dropped down low as he takes the Doctor's hand in his.
The Doctor doesn't say anything, and allows his hand to be taken. "I was dreaming about you. Dreaming about your hands." He brings his hand to his face and admires the long, slender fingers, memories of what they could do washing over him, visions of what they might still do urging him forward. He guides the Doctor's hand towards his mouth and drags the fingers over his lips, slowly taking one into his mouth while he watches the reaction of the Doctor. Heat and desire crawl into his features and his eyes narrow and darken before they close, a small sigh escaping his lips at the intimate contact.
The Master sucks on the finger, hollowing his cheeks and dragging his tongue over the entire length of it before letting it slide out of his mouth. He once again this day finds himself on his knees, making quick work of the Doctor's clothes, pushing them to his ankles while he pushes the Doctor up against the console. He wastes no time in swallowing him whole, taking and savouring every inch of the Doctor that he can, the taste and smell of him surrounding him in a blanket of lust.
The Doctor's hands are in the Master's hair, demanding and controlling as he comes, pushing up into his mouth, forcing him to swallow every bit. The Master’s mouth stretches into a wicked smile around him as he feels the once controlling hands loosen their grip on his hair and fall to his shoulders.
Click Here for Chapter Five
Pairing: Simm/Tennant; Doctor/Master
Rating: This part, totally NC 17
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.
***We'd like to note at this juncture that this is pretty cracky. Dr Who does not film porn. We do. Dr Who does not take three days to film two scenes. We do. John Simm is married. We like to pretend he's not. David Tennant is also in a heterosexual relationship. Bollocks to that.
In conclusion: Abandon reality all ye who enter here.***
Chapter 4
There's a confident knock on his door and David scampers to open it, expecting John. It is, but not the right one. He ushers him in with a slightly less enthusiastic grin than he might have given his other co-star.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" He asks, hopping up onto a table and looking at John suspiciously. The idea that this is just a social call kind of fades with a look at John's face. He's got his mouth twisted into his 'how do I put this' pout and that can only mean awkwardness.
"Wanted to congratulate you on those scenes. Very authentic," John says after a pause, "You and John work really well together."
David nods, "Thanks. Everything's better with mud. Except, you know, dinner and stuff."
John laughs obligingly, then raises his point again, "It's really impressive, the way you look so sincerely hot for him."
"Uh, yeah. Well, he's not hard on the eye, is he?" David points out hopefully, "And good, you know. It's easy to act like that when he's so..." He trails off and shrugs, admitting defeat. John would get it out of him, and offer advice and admonition like the big gay auntie he secretly was.
"You're going to end up in bed with him. If you haven't already," John says sternly, "So I'm obligated to advise you. Don't let it fuck up work, and don't let work fuck it up. You know it'll end badly for the characters, brace yourself and don't end up hating him. He's a good guy."
David looks down and swings his feet, "Of course. We're professionals. Not that I am sleeping with him. I mean, not that I wouldn't or anything or... Fuck. Does everyone know?"
John snorts, "Who said anything about sleeping? I'm talking about you having sex with that gorgeous piece of talent, and so is half the crew. They still think they're imagining things though. I, of course, know better..." He fixes David with a look, "You'll want to get your shit together if you have a hope of keeping it quiet."
There's a knock on the door and David thanks whatever deities might be listening for the mercy.
"Hey, thought we could-" John says, cutting himself off for a moment when he notices the other John lounging on the sofa, "Go for a drink. You're not done, sorry. I'll just..."
"Of course I'm done. John was just..." David waves a hand, and obediently John gets up and moves to the door, giving David a smirk and John a wink.
"I didn't mean to interrupt..."
David waves away the apology carelessly, "Glad you showed up actually, you know what he's like. Talking constantly about things he should just stay away from."
John frowns, unable to squash the stupid tendril of jealousy winding its way through his thoughts. It was ridiculous. Barrowman was married, for god's sake, but... he flirted with everything that moved and touched and even licked sometimes and it made John want to do something horribly uncivilised. He really shouldn't be thinking about this. David's looking at him with a worried face on, and he does his best to snap out of it.
The moment stretches, then yawns, and still neither of them are moving or saying anything, caught in a contemplation cycle that can only lead to doubt. Finally David breaks it.
"So... let me get my stuff and then we'll get that drink, hey?" He asks, giving John a gentle little smile, then a quick kiss, "And try not to look so damn pretty all the time. It's very distracting."
**
The Master drops to his knees in the shallow water, arms raised in an exaggerated manner towards the sky. "Is this what you want? Me on my knees, like you once were? Begging for forgiveness? For absolution?"
The Doctor advances on him, there on his knees, still half covered in mud. He is painfully aware of his nudity now as the water no longer covers him, but he keeps up the front, meets and exceeds the challenge as he scoops the cool water up with one hand and brings it to the Master's head. He lets it trickle slowly out of his fingers and through the Master's hair.
The moment is poignant, more so than either man expected it to be. The Doctor brings his hand down, letting it rest on the Master's damp cheek for a moment, before bringing it down further, cupping his chin in his hand and running his thumb over his lips. "I forgive you." He says softly.
"What?" The Master asks in a hoarse voice, fighting the urge to draw that thumb into his mouth.
"It's what you asked for, isn't it? Absolution? I'm offering it to you. This could be our chance, the chance for you and me. Don't you see it? Think of it...a fresh start. No Time War to fight, no hidden agendas...No running." He stops at the feel of hands upon his skin, closes his eyes and leans in to the touch slightly before pulling away. "It could be better...Better than before. Better than either of us has known, more than either of us deserve."
With all the courage he can find, he walks away, back to the Tardis, but not before playing just one more card.
"Master." He calls, the word spilling from his lips just so. Their eyes meet. "I like you on your knees. Begging."
**
They end up at John's place, not wanting to face putting on public faces for what was essentially their first date. So they sit on the floor, leaning up against the sofa, a bottle between them and glasses in their hands. John still can't shake the awkward feeling that he's too invested, that it'll all go tits up and he'll be bleeding on the side of the metaphorical road. At least, he feels like that whenever David's not smiling at him. It's hard to think when he is.
"Nude scene tomorrow," he says, remembering abruptly.
"They're letting me wear some underpants," David replies, sounding grateful, "But I could do without Barrowman staring."
John snorts, "Couldn't we all. That man's got a leer on him you can see from three blocks away. Still... He's got a point." He smirks and looks David over, then drains his glass and pours another, hoping for some Dutch courage. It had been so easy before, why wasn't it now?
David smiles and raises his glass, then empties it and pours another. This thing with John is singing underneath his skin, a tempting ache, anticipation building inexorably. He wants it for as long as he can, even if it feels like it might kill him.
They're silent for a while, and another half hour passes with sporadic small talk. They drink with a silent consensus that it will make things easier, and it's not until David's sure he's got a buzz on that he lets his arm come to rest on the couch behind them, invading John's space.
"Are you trying to take advantage of me, Mr Tennant?" John asks voice low.
David grins, "Who, me? Never. Fuck you silly, maybe...."
"On the first date?" John squeaks, trying to sound scandalised.
David laughs and slides his hand up into John's hair, "You think you could say no? Because that sounds like a challenge to me..."
John laughs, leans into the touch, and he's about to answer when his phone rings. By the time he's done David is gone, and there's a post-it on the glass he'd used.
"Antici..."
The next day on set is a lot less weird than he'd thought it would be. They smile and laugh, make small talk. If it's not as cosy as it was before, no one says anything. Besides, it's easy to chalk it up to nerves about the upcoming scene. It's scheduled as the last (achievable) scene of the day, and to be honest, although it draws out the suspense, he’s glad. He doesn't think he'll be good for much once they've done it. At least, not until he's had a moment or five to himself.
Filming goes smoothly, a closed set saves them from John's teasing. The only real problem is that his eye line leads directly to David's cock. He compensates by watching David's face intently, committing every little nuance to memory, the way his mouth quirks and shapes words, the way his wet hair sticks out at all kinds of angles.
The heat is almost palpable, rising between them. His skin prickles with the knowledge that everyone can see them, more than that; they're all watching them intently. It takes an age to film it all, but finally they're sent on their way, and it's all John can do not to grab David and pull him into the nearest shadowy corner.
He dives into the water to wash off the mud they've had to put back on him, then stands there dripping, eyeing the cables dubiously and wondering how well insulated everything really is.
"Idiot," David snorts, offering him the big fluffy robe he'd been wrapped up in, using the opportunity to purr into his ear, "Let's gets you out of those and into something more comfortable. My bed, maybe..."
The second the door to the dressing room closes he pins David up against the wall, kissing him furiously, hands rough and demanding on his chest, his arms, his back, everywhere at once. He didn't want to wait any more, it was too much. They'd been teasing and flirting and touching too long and he'd had enough.
"You are such a fucking tease," he growls, biting a line down the column of David's throat, fingers tucking under the waistband of his flesh coloured underpants (which were never attractive, even on David,) and tugging them down, continuing his trail of bites down David's chest, paying particular attention to his left nipple, tugging and twisting, wringing all sorts of delicious but stifled noises from him.
"God... John stop... We have to... not do this here..." David pants, arching up, one hand on John's head, the other scratching up his back, "No, really... There's no way I can keep quiet."
John pulls back and grins, running a finger along David's lip, "I can fix that..."
David smirks and licks John's finger, closing his lips around the tip.
Through his lust John manages to look around and aim for the sofa as he pulls David with him, landing in a wet tangle. He struggles to get out of his clothes with David's hands groping him, with his mouth a burning point wherever it goes. Finally he gets his pants off, or at least down to his ankles where they can't impede him, and guides David down with a hand on his neck, not that he needs convincing, or hurrying. Before he knows it there's brilliant wet heat around him, and he finally notices how cold he the rest of him is, simply by how devastatingly hot David's mouth feels, tongue and lips working around and over. Suddenly he's the one with a need to be quiet, and he really should have foreseen this. He would have, if he weren't so drunk on it all, strung out on days of this teasing torture.
Biting down on his arm seems reasonable, given that he's not stopping for all the world. Russell bloody Davies could walk in and he doubts he'd let David go. Instead, he uses the hand he has in David's hair to urge him on, faster, harder. He lasts practically not at all, tugging on David's hair lightly in warning and biting his arm to smother his unmistakably sexual groan as he comes.
When he catches his breath, David is still on his knees, looking up at him with shiny pink lips, and he strokes his head gently, "I like you on your knees."
**
They are back on the ship, both cleansed of the mud and dry. There has not been much talk since the Master came back on board awhile after the Doctor left him there on the embankment. The Master had come back to find the Doctor tinkering at the consoles, mumbling something about manoeuvring out of the tree and landing on lower ground. The Master had glared at him and shuffled off, coming back soon enough and reiterating that the cold slabs of metal were not suitable for sleep, or anything else for that matter.
The Doctor gestures towards a chair, "Used to be Rose's favourite picked it up at a flea market on twentieth century Earth. She'd curl up like a cat in that thing and sleep four hours at a time."
"Do you miss it?" The Master asks, sinking himself down into the chair.
"What Rose sleeping in the chair? Nah snored a lot, that one, can't believe such a shameful noise could come out of such a pretty little thing." He shrugged.
The Master closes his eyes briefly, letting his mind wander to the shameful noises he would like to hear come out of the pretty little thing standing in front of him. "Do you miss her I mean, any of them? Your human companions."
The Doctor didn't hesitate with his answer as he continued to toy with the console. "I have a companion."
The Master drifts off to sleep quickly in the comfortable chair, surrounded by the presence of the Doctor. He finds he even permeates his dreams and wakes with a start while images of a particularly naughty encounter cloud his mind.
"Do you dream a lot?" The Doctor asks him without looking at him. "I miss dreams, used to have them a lot before...Well, a long time ago."
The Master rises from the chair and walks towards the Doctor.
Finally he looks at the Master, "What were you dreaming about? You looked affright for awhile, and then you were sort of twitching about, making incomprehensible noises. I started to worry, I did."
"Were you watching me, Doctor?" The Master says lazily, voice dropped down low as he takes the Doctor's hand in his.
The Doctor doesn't say anything, and allows his hand to be taken. "I was dreaming about you. Dreaming about your hands." He brings his hand to his face and admires the long, slender fingers, memories of what they could do washing over him, visions of what they might still do urging him forward. He guides the Doctor's hand towards his mouth and drags the fingers over his lips, slowly taking one into his mouth while he watches the reaction of the Doctor. Heat and desire crawl into his features and his eyes narrow and darken before they close, a small sigh escaping his lips at the intimate contact.
The Master sucks on the finger, hollowing his cheeks and dragging his tongue over the entire length of it before letting it slide out of his mouth. He once again this day finds himself on his knees, making quick work of the Doctor's clothes, pushing them to his ankles while he pushes the Doctor up against the console. He wastes no time in swallowing him whole, taking and savouring every inch of the Doctor that he can, the taste and smell of him surrounding him in a blanket of lust.
The Doctor's hands are in the Master's hair, demanding and controlling as he comes, pushing up into his mouth, forcing him to swallow every bit. The Master’s mouth stretches into a wicked smile around him as he feels the once controlling hands loosen their grip on his hair and fall to his shoulders.
Click Here for Chapter Five