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Doctor Who: Reflections (13/21), (2/Jamie, Victoria), Adult.
Title: Reflections (13/21)
Author: Van Donovan
Rating: Adult
Characters: the second Doctor, Jamie McCrimmon, Victoria Waterfield
Pairings: Two/Jamie
Word count this chapter: 3,850.
Word count total: 87,791
Warnings: Slash and graphic sex. Spoilers through "Evil of the Daleks."
Summary: Charged with saving the universe, can the Doctor overcome his own darkness to defeat the Daleks?
Notes: This is a "Mirrorverse" fic, set in a splinter off "Evil of the Daleks." It isn't required you know either term/story, but it will heighten your enjoyment. This fic is rather dark and adult in nature, so be warned.
Thanks: to lithrael for the encouragement--this fic would not exist without her support (and for the help betaing :D, and the artwork, which is hers), and to irreparable for her amazing very-thorough beta skills. She is glorious. I feel I should be paying for her services. :D And to randominity who planted the seed.
(Crossposted to two_love, dw_slash, and dwfiction)
Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21.
Chapter Thirteen:
Even as he spoke, the Daleks came into view. A train of them glided down the street just on the other side of the flimsy box the Doctor and Jamie were crouched behind. The Daleks paraded along, heedless of the refuse and debris scattered about. One scanned the alley, eyestalk swiveling slowly as they passed. But if it detected the heat signature of two hiding humanoids, it did not deviate from its course.
All in all, the Doctor counted six Daleks. They passed by in silence, not communicating with each other. Within two minutes the Daleks had gone and the groaning metallic sound echoed again, as whatever portal the Daleks had come from closed back up. The humming ceased, the street returned to normal: it was as though nothing had happened.
The pair remained where they were, waiting, for a full minute after.
“Are they gone?” Jamie whispered at last.
Though he was loath to speak, the Doctor nodded his head. “I believe so.”
He didn’t turn around, but felt Jamie’s body press against him as the boy inched closer to peer around the corner. There was no immediately obvious location for the Daleks to have emerged from, but the Doctor knew, from having seen it, that one of the innocuous brick walls in the near distance would open up to reveal a strange, metallic corridor.
The Doctor was trying to resist the urge to go to that brick wall and find a way in; they ought to turn around and get as far away from here as possible. His spine stiffened as he felt Jamie’s hand slip around his middle, groping awkwardly against his thigh. “Jamie?”
And then he felt the rest of Jamie, pressed up against him, and acutely became aware of the fact that neither the Daleks nor their time apart had flagged the boy’s passion any. There was a hot, hard shape now pressed into him from behind and he wondered how he had failed to notice it immediately. “Y’ said they’re gone, right?” Jamie asked, his voice low and husky.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, the Doctor tried to convince himself this was a Bad Idea. The Daleks could come back any moment; more could be deployed. They needed to be putting distance between them and the facility, not fooling around. “Jamie,” he tried again, but the name came out sounding even weaker this time. The boy’s grope became firmer as it closed around him, squeezing gently through the fabric of his trousers.
Bending, trying to not lose his balance, the Doctor turned, needing to see Jamie in that moment. The boy’s eyes were hooded, dark with arousal. Twisted, the Doctor found himself nestled against the boy, one of his long, strong arms wrapped around the Doctor’s middle, the other gripping the wall for support, Jamie’s thighs framing his backside. It was, the Doctor thought, one of the most perfect positions he had ever found himself in.
This boy wanted to be better-the best-and the Doctor knew in that moment he absolutely would be. Daleks or danger be damned, there was no way he could resist Jamie like this. Shifting the rest of the way, he captured the boy’s mouth with his own, letting Jamie fall enough off balance that he could catch and hold him up. Slipping his hand back into place on Jamie’s still unveiled length, the Doctor felt it firm up again as he set about stroking.
This time there was a heated passion to their movements, a rough needfulness, as if seeing the Daleks had made Jamie aware of just how much danger they were in; how fleeting life could be. Armed with that knowledge, the Doctor redoubled his efforts, pushing Jamie back into the wall effortlessly. This could be his last time with Jamie. The Daleks could return and exterminate them both any second. Its impossibility made this precious; he was not going to waste it.
Jamie broke the kiss first, bowing his head to pant into the Doctor’s ear, his hand still fumbling at his trousers. “I want you,” was all he said.
There wasn’t any way to protest to that, no refute the Doctor could make. With the boy’s help, he finally unhooked his braces, got his trousers pushed down and opened. Jamie’s hand on him felt like fire. That anxious, familiar burn born from fooling around on the run began coursing through his veins. At last he opened his mouth, his thoughts moving enough now to tell Jamie he wanted him in return, but even as he did, the boy’s thumb skated over the tip of his aching cock and words failed him.
Taking advantage of the Doctor’s temporary immobility, Jamie was moving. He pushed off the wall, closing in on the Doctor. One hand pressed against the Doctor’s chest, fingers rubbing upward, from his abdomen to his collarbone; the other continued to please him below. “What’ve y’ brought with you?” the boy throatily asked.
Confused, the Doctor did not reply. It wasn’t until Jamie’s hand slipped off his chest and then down into one of his coat pockets that he realized what the boy was asking. His mouth opened in surprise; were he a lesser man, his cheeks might have reddened. “What a rake I’ve made you!” he delightedly cried. Were Jamie not pressed so nearly against him, he would have clapped his hands in joy. “It’s in my left pocket,” he added, gleefully.
Grinning impishly, Jamie set about searching, his eyes dancing over the Doctor’s face. “You’re such a dirty old man,” he teased. “Corrupting the youth.”
“I know, I know,” the Doctor agreed in mock sadness. “It’s just that they’re so very irresistible.” Rocking his hips forward once, he pressed himself back into Jamie’s hand.
The boy started somewhat, having stopped his stroking as he searched. He flushed sheepishly. “Sorry,” he murmured, beginning up again.
“You’re not too sore, are you?” the Doctor suddenly asked, remembering the way Jamie had sunk to his knees in the metallic sand earlier, complaining of discomfort.
“Och,” Jamie said, struggling to rifle through the pocket while stroking the Doctor at the same time. “If I’m already sore, what difference will a wee bit more make?”
The Doctor could only smile; he was utterly unable to believe how much Jamie had changed since they had met. To act casually promiscuous so readily with him, the boy must have been harboring massive pent up sexual desires for a very long time. It made the Doctor throb in acute need for him, longing to please and be pleased. He gripped Jamie’s thigh possessively. It didn’t matter to him that those feelings had been for the other Doctor: the mild, clueless one, bumbling about somewhere, unawares. Jamie deserved this, deserved to be pleased the way he so obviously wanted to be, by someone who cherished him and wanted to please him the same way in return. More than anything, the Doctor was eager to give Jamie what he wanted.
At last, Jamie found the tube the Doctor had pocketed for just such a hopeful occasion. It was a smaller version of what he’d used in the bedroom, but would do the same job.
“Jamie?” he started, tensing wonderfully as the boy’s large hands slicked him up and down. It was hard to focus on how to speak properly as the boy’s hand moved, but the Doctor concentrated, determined to keep his cool. When Jamie’s eyes lifted off watching what he was doing to focus on the Doctor though, some of his resolve melted. He broke into a childlike smile. “How did I possibly end up with something this wonderful?”
“Och,” Jamie admonished, smiling despite himself, “don’t y’ start on that again.”
Inside, the Doctor felt like he was going to burst, and it had nothing to do with sex. Jamie’s loving, playful nature was so much more than he could have ever asked for.
Shifting his weight, the Doctor settled on his knees, legs parted for leverage. “I think that’s good,” he finally said, nudging Jamie’s hand aside with some effort. Reaching out, he pulled Jamie to him, slicked his own hand by running it down his length. Then he tugged at the boy. “Come here,” he coaxed.
Obeying, Jamie nestled closer to him, legs parting as he shuffled over in a squatting walk. Draping his arms around the Doctor’s neck, for support, he put on a resolved expression that nevertheless cracked as the Doctor ghosted his fingers over the boy’s warm balls and beyond. Pressing into him, Jamie instinctively rocked toward the Doctor, lessening his reach.
It didn’t matter that they were in a dirty back alley on a strange planet, infiltrated by Daleks. The universe might be ending around them, but that was lost on them. They were just two animals, acting out one of the most primitive dances in all the universes.
Jamie’s hands tightened on the Doctor’s shoulders at the preparation. It was remarkable what a difference such eager willingness made: the Doctor found practically no resistance this time. It seemed Jamie had got the idea of sex in mind and nothing more was needed to carry him along. Convinced that Jamie was more than ready, the Doctor pulled the boy’s hips to him. Jamie properly straddled the Doctor’s lap, facing him, and for a few seconds they studied each other, both breathing heavily.
“This is the most foolish thing we could possibly be doing right now,” the Doctor said, still managing to maintain his cool veneer.
Nodding, Jamie bit his lower lip until the pink flesh turned white. The hands on the Doctor’s shoulders tightened their grip. “Rather die like this,” Jamie whispered, squatting his legs to position himself over the Doctor, “than running away.”
Whatever the Doctor thought he might say in reply was taken from him as Jamie lowered himself. One hand held Jamie’s thigh, the other gripped just below the head of his cock, helping guide it into the boy. And there was that searing white tightness as Jamie sank down on him, millimeter by precious millimeter. The boy’s eyes burned into his as he moved, and some part of the Doctor came alive with the knowledge that, by virtue of being the oldest dance in the universe, it was also the most perfected and refined.
Jamie’s hands slipped down, fingers digging into his back, almost painful even through the layers of coat and shirt. If the boy had shown any sign of discomfort, the Doctor would have protested, but the boy was eager for him and there was only a smoldering fire in Jamie’s eyes, which the Doctor knew would burn bright once this period of adjusting was over.
At last, Jamie came to a halt, the muscles in his thighs and calves straining as he squatted over the Doctor, straddling his lap but not quite sitting. The boy’s cheeks were flushed, his chest heaving with the strain of his breathing, and the Doctor, throbbing inside him, could feel every twitch the boy made. His shiver of delight sent an involuntary groan through Jamie, forcing him to ride out the sensation. Smiling brilliantly, the Doctor put his hands on Jamie’s hips to adjust the boy’s kilt around him. And then the boy began to move.
This was perfection.
There were no drugs to enhance Jamie’s enjoyment, no TARDIS to offer them a false sense of security, no soft bed to fall back on. This was dirty, gritty and real. They were fucking because they wanted to; because they would rather die like this than be shot down like fleeing dogs; because it felt right. He hadn’t tricked Jamie or manipulated the situation to get to here. They were doing this for the simple reason that they both wanted to and that almost made it more special than the previous night.
Jamie’s thighs strained as the boy worked, slowly squatting down onto the Doctor, over and over. His hands held hard to the Doctor for balance, but the majority of Jamie’s weight was on his legs, and his muscles rippled with the strain of what he was doing. Slipping his hands under Jamie’s kilt, the Doctor ran his palms over and over the hard, shifting knots of muscle in Jamie’s thighs. Rocking his own hips, he tried to meet the boy, thrusting up into him when Jamie came down, but it was really Jamie doing all the work. Last night he had orchestrated things, but today Jamie was utterly in control.
It was clear the process was considerable work for Jamie. His breath came in explosive gasps, his chest heaving with the effort. Sweat stood out on the boy’s brow, glistening in streaks as it ran down his face. And still he did not alter his rhythm-it was as if he had been caught in a trace.
“Slow down,” the Doctor groaned, squeezing the thighs under his palms intently. “You’re going to exhaust yourself.”
Jamie jerked once in response, in a strange sort of thrust, as if unable to remember how to stop. Then he slid back down, coming to a halt. His legs trembled with the exertion. The eyes that now peered at the Doctor from beneath thick lashes were black with lust and desire, utterly unfocused. “I want t’ stay,” the boy moaned.
Pulling Jamie closer, the Doctor pressed as much of the boy’s weight into him as possible, hoping to alleviate some of the strain. It was hard to think with that fierce heat all around him and Jamie not moving, so he began to gently work his hips. Jamie let out a whimper that seemed to surprise him, and the Doctor slid his hands up around the small of the boy’s back, holding him close as he fucked him slowly. “I’m not going to make you go anywhere,” the Doctor reassured him. He pressed his hot face into Jamie’s shirt, trying to contain his passion.
“No,” Jamie moaned, pulling out of his arms with a strange sort of intentness. He broke out of the slow rhythm and began undulating again, up and down, faster and faster. Breathing so hard now his words were nearly unintelligible, “I mean,” he gasped, “when we find,” he sank down again, “Victoria.”
Trying to carry on a conversation as Jamie fucked himself harder and faster on the Doctor’s eager cock was one of the most difficult things the Doctor had ever experienced. Clutching Jamie tighter, he forced the boy to stay still, trying at the same time not to come prematurely himself. He took a deep, steadying breath. “You want to stay,” he repeated, trying to find the meaning in those words. In his current state, it was harder to do than he thought possible.
“With you.”
Jamie overpowered him, pushing him back. In his surprise, the Doctor let go of the boy, putting his hands behind him to keep from falling onto his back. Lowered that way, Jamie re-angled himself until his knees were on the rough ground on either side of the Doctor. He leaned forward over the Doctor and then began to shove back, suddenly able to obtain a much deeper thrust, groaning wantonly as he did. Straining visibly against the heavy folds of his kilt, Jamie’s cock struggling to stand upright, bouncing with the boy’s determined movements.
“Jamie!” the Doctor gasped, both at the force of the boy’s actions and by what he had just said. He simply could not process the weight of what he had just been told; he wasn’t sure Jamie could either. Sex clouded judgments, made bad ideas seem like good ones. Not that he didn’t want Jamie to stay with him, but . . . but . . . there was a reason to all this, he simply couldn’t think of it. Not now.
“God, Doctor,” the boy whimpered, looming over him, “please just touch me already!”
“Oh, my word!” the Doctor cried. That was something he understood-something he couldn’t believe he hadn’t done yet. It wasn’t easy to keep his balance and touch Jamie. His hand was now even dirty from having been pressed into the ground. He wiped it off on his clean coat sleeve before grabbing Jamie, focusing on that. He shoved the kilt up, out of the way.
The boy made a delightful strangled sounding noise in the back of his throat at the Doctor’s touch, and his thrusting stuttered as he adjusted to the new sensation. Jamie had been staring unseeingly at the wall across the alley, but now he peered down at the Doctor, breaking into a wanton smile. “Aye,” Jamie encouraged. “Aye, that’s it.”
After that, things happened quickly. The Doctor was too far gone to have much skill in the fondling he was doing, but Jamie didn’t seem to mind. A simple stroking method seemed to suffice and before the Doctor was quite prepared for it, Jamie was coming hard in his hand, crying out as he did. Some distant part of the Doctor realized that was bad; that they should be quiet, but then Jamie was clenching tight around him and the Doctor lost his train of thought as he came too, rocketing up into that tight heat as he did.
Jamie pawed at him as it happened, fingers kneading into his shoulder and bicep, helping keep him in a semi-seated position, as if afraid the Doctor might slip away if he let go.
“I’m all right, Jamie,” he panted, when it was over, although he couldn’t explain why. Jamie hadn’t asked and there was no reason he shouldn’t be well. He felt marvelous. He lifted his eyes to focus on the boy.
Jamie was still breathing heavily, but the endless black lust in his eyes had dimmed. The boy wore a lazy, happy smile now. “Very all right,” he agreed, before burying his face against the Doctor’s neck.
Slipping his arms around Jamie’s back, the Doctor sighed audibly as the boy slid off him. He repositioned Jamie against his thigh and just held him for a few seconds. His hearts were still galloping in his chest, and judging from Jamie’s labored breathing, so was the boy’s. “Jamie,” he started, at last.
“I meant it,” Jamie said, lifting his face off the Doctor’s shoulder. “About staying. I want t’ find Victoria, but when we do, and she and my Doctor are safe . . .”
“Jamie,” he tried again, still too surprised for words. Every part of him wanted to leap at the chance, to say yes and keep the boy to his word; even to guilt him into it later, if ever he changed his mind. But something in him had changed and he couldn’t. Not only that, but he couldn’t even entertain that it was the right thing to do. That he wanted it to be so was obvious, but he felt it was too big a decision to make so lightly. “I want you to think about this,” he finally said.
“I’m flattered, of course,” the Doctor added quickly, still not sure he was thinking rationally. “But that’s . . . that’s an important decision and one I don’t want you to make lightly. Especially not just based on . . . on sex.”
“I love you,” Jamie plainly said. “What more reason is there?”
The surge of delight that shot through the Doctor at those words rather shamed him. They were just words; he knew they shouldn’t fill him with so much happiness. Especially as he knew they were words meant for another man. “You hardly know me,” he protested, lowering his eyes. Jamie was still straddled in his lap with his kilt still pulled up around his hips. The Doctor adjusted the garment, repining the clasp that had somehow become undone. He felt embarrassed of his naked self, now. “It’s . . . it’s your Doctor you’re in love with, not me.”
Jamie was silent for several long seconds. Enough time passed that the Doctor finally looked up at him in concern. “How can y’ say that?” Jamie accused softly. “That it’s him and not you, after what we’ve just done?”
“We only met a few days ago,” the Doctor protested gently. “If you didn’t know your Doctor, could you possibly ever be so fond of me? I’m practically a stranger and in all honesty, not a very nice one.”
Swinging off him, Jamie settled on his knees in the street. He made no attempt to stand, but glowered at the Doctor. He was staring, contemplating, but at last he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s still you. I couldn’t do this with him. He’d never ask.”
“Love is about more than sex, Jamie.”
“Do y’ no want me?” Jamie hotly retorted, voice cracking. “If that’s th’ case, then be a man and say so!”
Alarmed, the Doctor shook his head, putting his hands out disarmingly. “That’s not it at all! I’m overjoyed, Jamie! You’ve no idea! I just don’t want you to be making a rash decision based on . . . on a few days of acquaintance. Staying with me because I make you feel good isn’t . . . it isn’t a reason to give up the safe, comfortable life you have with him.” Glancing down, he noticed his state of undress, and quickly pulled up his trousers, fastening them.
Jamie watched him in silence. After a while, the boy pushed to his feet, staggered into the alley wall and clung to it, waiting off the vertigo. The position he was in put Jamie’s back to the Doctor.
While he let Jamie think, the Doctor wiped his hands down with his handkerchief. It was getting rather disgusting now, but he stuffed it back into place when he was done anyway, thankful only his hands had been soiled and not his coat itself. At last he got to his feet, refastening his braces as he did. “It isn’t like you have to come to a decision right now,” the Doctor quietly said, studying Jamie’s back. “All I meant is that, when the time comes, if you change your mind . . . it’ll be all right.”
“I know what I want,” Jamie sulkily replied, peering at him over his shoulder.
“Of course,” the Doctor said, approaching him. He should have checked for Daleks, should have kept their voices low. But he wasn’t thinking about those things now. Instead, he put a hand on Jamie’s back, squeezing him fondly. “Can you walk?”
Jamie took a few tentative steps away from him. “I think so.” The boy wobbled, seemed a bit bowlegged, but did not fall. “Where are we even headed now?”
The alley was silent and unwelcoming. Before them lay potential capture or death by Daleks, behind them the risk of running into Venusian captors. They could backtrack and try a parallel route, but the Doctor did not feel that that would really be any safer. Turning 360° as he considered the options, he finally stopped, shaking his head. “I honestly don’t know.”
Author: Van Donovan
Rating: Adult
Characters: the second Doctor, Jamie McCrimmon, Victoria Waterfield
Pairings: Two/Jamie
Word count this chapter: 3,850.
Word count total: 87,791
Warnings: Slash and graphic sex. Spoilers through "Evil of the Daleks."
Summary: Charged with saving the universe, can the Doctor overcome his own darkness to defeat the Daleks?
Notes: This is a "Mirrorverse" fic, set in a splinter off "Evil of the Daleks." It isn't required you know either term/story, but it will heighten your enjoyment. This fic is rather dark and adult in nature, so be warned.
Thanks: to lithrael for the encouragement--this fic would not exist without her support (and for the help betaing :D, and the artwork, which is hers), and to irreparable for her amazing very-thorough beta skills. She is glorious. I feel I should be paying for her services. :D And to randominity who planted the seed.
(Crossposted to two_love, dw_slash, and dwfiction)
Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21.
Chapter Thirteen:
Even as he spoke, the Daleks came into view. A train of them glided down the street just on the other side of the flimsy box the Doctor and Jamie were crouched behind. The Daleks paraded along, heedless of the refuse and debris scattered about. One scanned the alley, eyestalk swiveling slowly as they passed. But if it detected the heat signature of two hiding humanoids, it did not deviate from its course.
All in all, the Doctor counted six Daleks. They passed by in silence, not communicating with each other. Within two minutes the Daleks had gone and the groaning metallic sound echoed again, as whatever portal the Daleks had come from closed back up. The humming ceased, the street returned to normal: it was as though nothing had happened.
The pair remained where they were, waiting, for a full minute after.
“Are they gone?” Jamie whispered at last.
Though he was loath to speak, the Doctor nodded his head. “I believe so.”
He didn’t turn around, but felt Jamie’s body press against him as the boy inched closer to peer around the corner. There was no immediately obvious location for the Daleks to have emerged from, but the Doctor knew, from having seen it, that one of the innocuous brick walls in the near distance would open up to reveal a strange, metallic corridor.
The Doctor was trying to resist the urge to go to that brick wall and find a way in; they ought to turn around and get as far away from here as possible. His spine stiffened as he felt Jamie’s hand slip around his middle, groping awkwardly against his thigh. “Jamie?”
And then he felt the rest of Jamie, pressed up against him, and acutely became aware of the fact that neither the Daleks nor their time apart had flagged the boy’s passion any. There was a hot, hard shape now pressed into him from behind and he wondered how he had failed to notice it immediately. “Y’ said they’re gone, right?” Jamie asked, his voice low and husky.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, the Doctor tried to convince himself this was a Bad Idea. The Daleks could come back any moment; more could be deployed. They needed to be putting distance between them and the facility, not fooling around. “Jamie,” he tried again, but the name came out sounding even weaker this time. The boy’s grope became firmer as it closed around him, squeezing gently through the fabric of his trousers.
Bending, trying to not lose his balance, the Doctor turned, needing to see Jamie in that moment. The boy’s eyes were hooded, dark with arousal. Twisted, the Doctor found himself nestled against the boy, one of his long, strong arms wrapped around the Doctor’s middle, the other gripping the wall for support, Jamie’s thighs framing his backside. It was, the Doctor thought, one of the most perfect positions he had ever found himself in.
This boy wanted to be better-the best-and the Doctor knew in that moment he absolutely would be. Daleks or danger be damned, there was no way he could resist Jamie like this. Shifting the rest of the way, he captured the boy’s mouth with his own, letting Jamie fall enough off balance that he could catch and hold him up. Slipping his hand back into place on Jamie’s still unveiled length, the Doctor felt it firm up again as he set about stroking.
This time there was a heated passion to their movements, a rough needfulness, as if seeing the Daleks had made Jamie aware of just how much danger they were in; how fleeting life could be. Armed with that knowledge, the Doctor redoubled his efforts, pushing Jamie back into the wall effortlessly. This could be his last time with Jamie. The Daleks could return and exterminate them both any second. Its impossibility made this precious; he was not going to waste it.
Jamie broke the kiss first, bowing his head to pant into the Doctor’s ear, his hand still fumbling at his trousers. “I want you,” was all he said.
There wasn’t any way to protest to that, no refute the Doctor could make. With the boy’s help, he finally unhooked his braces, got his trousers pushed down and opened. Jamie’s hand on him felt like fire. That anxious, familiar burn born from fooling around on the run began coursing through his veins. At last he opened his mouth, his thoughts moving enough now to tell Jamie he wanted him in return, but even as he did, the boy’s thumb skated over the tip of his aching cock and words failed him.
Taking advantage of the Doctor’s temporary immobility, Jamie was moving. He pushed off the wall, closing in on the Doctor. One hand pressed against the Doctor’s chest, fingers rubbing upward, from his abdomen to his collarbone; the other continued to please him below. “What’ve y’ brought with you?” the boy throatily asked.
Confused, the Doctor did not reply. It wasn’t until Jamie’s hand slipped off his chest and then down into one of his coat pockets that he realized what the boy was asking. His mouth opened in surprise; were he a lesser man, his cheeks might have reddened. “What a rake I’ve made you!” he delightedly cried. Were Jamie not pressed so nearly against him, he would have clapped his hands in joy. “It’s in my left pocket,” he added, gleefully.
Grinning impishly, Jamie set about searching, his eyes dancing over the Doctor’s face. “You’re such a dirty old man,” he teased. “Corrupting the youth.”
“I know, I know,” the Doctor agreed in mock sadness. “It’s just that they’re so very irresistible.” Rocking his hips forward once, he pressed himself back into Jamie’s hand.
The boy started somewhat, having stopped his stroking as he searched. He flushed sheepishly. “Sorry,” he murmured, beginning up again.
“You’re not too sore, are you?” the Doctor suddenly asked, remembering the way Jamie had sunk to his knees in the metallic sand earlier, complaining of discomfort.
“Och,” Jamie said, struggling to rifle through the pocket while stroking the Doctor at the same time. “If I’m already sore, what difference will a wee bit more make?”
The Doctor could only smile; he was utterly unable to believe how much Jamie had changed since they had met. To act casually promiscuous so readily with him, the boy must have been harboring massive pent up sexual desires for a very long time. It made the Doctor throb in acute need for him, longing to please and be pleased. He gripped Jamie’s thigh possessively. It didn’t matter to him that those feelings had been for the other Doctor: the mild, clueless one, bumbling about somewhere, unawares. Jamie deserved this, deserved to be pleased the way he so obviously wanted to be, by someone who cherished him and wanted to please him the same way in return. More than anything, the Doctor was eager to give Jamie what he wanted.
At last, Jamie found the tube the Doctor had pocketed for just such a hopeful occasion. It was a smaller version of what he’d used in the bedroom, but would do the same job.
“Jamie?” he started, tensing wonderfully as the boy’s large hands slicked him up and down. It was hard to focus on how to speak properly as the boy’s hand moved, but the Doctor concentrated, determined to keep his cool. When Jamie’s eyes lifted off watching what he was doing to focus on the Doctor though, some of his resolve melted. He broke into a childlike smile. “How did I possibly end up with something this wonderful?”
“Och,” Jamie admonished, smiling despite himself, “don’t y’ start on that again.”
Inside, the Doctor felt like he was going to burst, and it had nothing to do with sex. Jamie’s loving, playful nature was so much more than he could have ever asked for.
Shifting his weight, the Doctor settled on his knees, legs parted for leverage. “I think that’s good,” he finally said, nudging Jamie’s hand aside with some effort. Reaching out, he pulled Jamie to him, slicked his own hand by running it down his length. Then he tugged at the boy. “Come here,” he coaxed.
Obeying, Jamie nestled closer to him, legs parting as he shuffled over in a squatting walk. Draping his arms around the Doctor’s neck, for support, he put on a resolved expression that nevertheless cracked as the Doctor ghosted his fingers over the boy’s warm balls and beyond. Pressing into him, Jamie instinctively rocked toward the Doctor, lessening his reach.
It didn’t matter that they were in a dirty back alley on a strange planet, infiltrated by Daleks. The universe might be ending around them, but that was lost on them. They were just two animals, acting out one of the most primitive dances in all the universes.
Jamie’s hands tightened on the Doctor’s shoulders at the preparation. It was remarkable what a difference such eager willingness made: the Doctor found practically no resistance this time. It seemed Jamie had got the idea of sex in mind and nothing more was needed to carry him along. Convinced that Jamie was more than ready, the Doctor pulled the boy’s hips to him. Jamie properly straddled the Doctor’s lap, facing him, and for a few seconds they studied each other, both breathing heavily.
“This is the most foolish thing we could possibly be doing right now,” the Doctor said, still managing to maintain his cool veneer.
Nodding, Jamie bit his lower lip until the pink flesh turned white. The hands on the Doctor’s shoulders tightened their grip. “Rather die like this,” Jamie whispered, squatting his legs to position himself over the Doctor, “than running away.”
Whatever the Doctor thought he might say in reply was taken from him as Jamie lowered himself. One hand held Jamie’s thigh, the other gripped just below the head of his cock, helping guide it into the boy. And there was that searing white tightness as Jamie sank down on him, millimeter by precious millimeter. The boy’s eyes burned into his as he moved, and some part of the Doctor came alive with the knowledge that, by virtue of being the oldest dance in the universe, it was also the most perfected and refined.
Jamie’s hands slipped down, fingers digging into his back, almost painful even through the layers of coat and shirt. If the boy had shown any sign of discomfort, the Doctor would have protested, but the boy was eager for him and there was only a smoldering fire in Jamie’s eyes, which the Doctor knew would burn bright once this period of adjusting was over.
At last, Jamie came to a halt, the muscles in his thighs and calves straining as he squatted over the Doctor, straddling his lap but not quite sitting. The boy’s cheeks were flushed, his chest heaving with the strain of his breathing, and the Doctor, throbbing inside him, could feel every twitch the boy made. His shiver of delight sent an involuntary groan through Jamie, forcing him to ride out the sensation. Smiling brilliantly, the Doctor put his hands on Jamie’s hips to adjust the boy’s kilt around him. And then the boy began to move.
This was perfection.
There were no drugs to enhance Jamie’s enjoyment, no TARDIS to offer them a false sense of security, no soft bed to fall back on. This was dirty, gritty and real. They were fucking because they wanted to; because they would rather die like this than be shot down like fleeing dogs; because it felt right. He hadn’t tricked Jamie or manipulated the situation to get to here. They were doing this for the simple reason that they both wanted to and that almost made it more special than the previous night.
Jamie’s thighs strained as the boy worked, slowly squatting down onto the Doctor, over and over. His hands held hard to the Doctor for balance, but the majority of Jamie’s weight was on his legs, and his muscles rippled with the strain of what he was doing. Slipping his hands under Jamie’s kilt, the Doctor ran his palms over and over the hard, shifting knots of muscle in Jamie’s thighs. Rocking his own hips, he tried to meet the boy, thrusting up into him when Jamie came down, but it was really Jamie doing all the work. Last night he had orchestrated things, but today Jamie was utterly in control.
It was clear the process was considerable work for Jamie. His breath came in explosive gasps, his chest heaving with the effort. Sweat stood out on the boy’s brow, glistening in streaks as it ran down his face. And still he did not alter his rhythm-it was as if he had been caught in a trace.
“Slow down,” the Doctor groaned, squeezing the thighs under his palms intently. “You’re going to exhaust yourself.”
Jamie jerked once in response, in a strange sort of thrust, as if unable to remember how to stop. Then he slid back down, coming to a halt. His legs trembled with the exertion. The eyes that now peered at the Doctor from beneath thick lashes were black with lust and desire, utterly unfocused. “I want t’ stay,” the boy moaned.
Pulling Jamie closer, the Doctor pressed as much of the boy’s weight into him as possible, hoping to alleviate some of the strain. It was hard to think with that fierce heat all around him and Jamie not moving, so he began to gently work his hips. Jamie let out a whimper that seemed to surprise him, and the Doctor slid his hands up around the small of the boy’s back, holding him close as he fucked him slowly. “I’m not going to make you go anywhere,” the Doctor reassured him. He pressed his hot face into Jamie’s shirt, trying to contain his passion.
“No,” Jamie moaned, pulling out of his arms with a strange sort of intentness. He broke out of the slow rhythm and began undulating again, up and down, faster and faster. Breathing so hard now his words were nearly unintelligible, “I mean,” he gasped, “when we find,” he sank down again, “Victoria.”
Trying to carry on a conversation as Jamie fucked himself harder and faster on the Doctor’s eager cock was one of the most difficult things the Doctor had ever experienced. Clutching Jamie tighter, he forced the boy to stay still, trying at the same time not to come prematurely himself. He took a deep, steadying breath. “You want to stay,” he repeated, trying to find the meaning in those words. In his current state, it was harder to do than he thought possible.
“With you.”
Jamie overpowered him, pushing him back. In his surprise, the Doctor let go of the boy, putting his hands behind him to keep from falling onto his back. Lowered that way, Jamie re-angled himself until his knees were on the rough ground on either side of the Doctor. He leaned forward over the Doctor and then began to shove back, suddenly able to obtain a much deeper thrust, groaning wantonly as he did. Straining visibly against the heavy folds of his kilt, Jamie’s cock struggling to stand upright, bouncing with the boy’s determined movements.
“Jamie!” the Doctor gasped, both at the force of the boy’s actions and by what he had just said. He simply could not process the weight of what he had just been told; he wasn’t sure Jamie could either. Sex clouded judgments, made bad ideas seem like good ones. Not that he didn’t want Jamie to stay with him, but . . . but . . . there was a reason to all this, he simply couldn’t think of it. Not now.
“God, Doctor,” the boy whimpered, looming over him, “please just touch me already!”
“Oh, my word!” the Doctor cried. That was something he understood-something he couldn’t believe he hadn’t done yet. It wasn’t easy to keep his balance and touch Jamie. His hand was now even dirty from having been pressed into the ground. He wiped it off on his clean coat sleeve before grabbing Jamie, focusing on that. He shoved the kilt up, out of the way.
The boy made a delightful strangled sounding noise in the back of his throat at the Doctor’s touch, and his thrusting stuttered as he adjusted to the new sensation. Jamie had been staring unseeingly at the wall across the alley, but now he peered down at the Doctor, breaking into a wanton smile. “Aye,” Jamie encouraged. “Aye, that’s it.”
After that, things happened quickly. The Doctor was too far gone to have much skill in the fondling he was doing, but Jamie didn’t seem to mind. A simple stroking method seemed to suffice and before the Doctor was quite prepared for it, Jamie was coming hard in his hand, crying out as he did. Some distant part of the Doctor realized that was bad; that they should be quiet, but then Jamie was clenching tight around him and the Doctor lost his train of thought as he came too, rocketing up into that tight heat as he did.
Jamie pawed at him as it happened, fingers kneading into his shoulder and bicep, helping keep him in a semi-seated position, as if afraid the Doctor might slip away if he let go.
“I’m all right, Jamie,” he panted, when it was over, although he couldn’t explain why. Jamie hadn’t asked and there was no reason he shouldn’t be well. He felt marvelous. He lifted his eyes to focus on the boy.
Jamie was still breathing heavily, but the endless black lust in his eyes had dimmed. The boy wore a lazy, happy smile now. “Very all right,” he agreed, before burying his face against the Doctor’s neck.
Slipping his arms around Jamie’s back, the Doctor sighed audibly as the boy slid off him. He repositioned Jamie against his thigh and just held him for a few seconds. His hearts were still galloping in his chest, and judging from Jamie’s labored breathing, so was the boy’s. “Jamie,” he started, at last.
“I meant it,” Jamie said, lifting his face off the Doctor’s shoulder. “About staying. I want t’ find Victoria, but when we do, and she and my Doctor are safe . . .”
“Jamie,” he tried again, still too surprised for words. Every part of him wanted to leap at the chance, to say yes and keep the boy to his word; even to guilt him into it later, if ever he changed his mind. But something in him had changed and he couldn’t. Not only that, but he couldn’t even entertain that it was the right thing to do. That he wanted it to be so was obvious, but he felt it was too big a decision to make so lightly. “I want you to think about this,” he finally said.
“I’m flattered, of course,” the Doctor added quickly, still not sure he was thinking rationally. “But that’s . . . that’s an important decision and one I don’t want you to make lightly. Especially not just based on . . . on sex.”
“I love you,” Jamie plainly said. “What more reason is there?”
The surge of delight that shot through the Doctor at those words rather shamed him. They were just words; he knew they shouldn’t fill him with so much happiness. Especially as he knew they were words meant for another man. “You hardly know me,” he protested, lowering his eyes. Jamie was still straddled in his lap with his kilt still pulled up around his hips. The Doctor adjusted the garment, repining the clasp that had somehow become undone. He felt embarrassed of his naked self, now. “It’s . . . it’s your Doctor you’re in love with, not me.”
Jamie was silent for several long seconds. Enough time passed that the Doctor finally looked up at him in concern. “How can y’ say that?” Jamie accused softly. “That it’s him and not you, after what we’ve just done?”
“We only met a few days ago,” the Doctor protested gently. “If you didn’t know your Doctor, could you possibly ever be so fond of me? I’m practically a stranger and in all honesty, not a very nice one.”
Swinging off him, Jamie settled on his knees in the street. He made no attempt to stand, but glowered at the Doctor. He was staring, contemplating, but at last he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s still you. I couldn’t do this with him. He’d never ask.”
“Love is about more than sex, Jamie.”
“Do y’ no want me?” Jamie hotly retorted, voice cracking. “If that’s th’ case, then be a man and say so!”
Alarmed, the Doctor shook his head, putting his hands out disarmingly. “That’s not it at all! I’m overjoyed, Jamie! You’ve no idea! I just don’t want you to be making a rash decision based on . . . on a few days of acquaintance. Staying with me because I make you feel good isn’t . . . it isn’t a reason to give up the safe, comfortable life you have with him.” Glancing down, he noticed his state of undress, and quickly pulled up his trousers, fastening them.
Jamie watched him in silence. After a while, the boy pushed to his feet, staggered into the alley wall and clung to it, waiting off the vertigo. The position he was in put Jamie’s back to the Doctor.
While he let Jamie think, the Doctor wiped his hands down with his handkerchief. It was getting rather disgusting now, but he stuffed it back into place when he was done anyway, thankful only his hands had been soiled and not his coat itself. At last he got to his feet, refastening his braces as he did. “It isn’t like you have to come to a decision right now,” the Doctor quietly said, studying Jamie’s back. “All I meant is that, when the time comes, if you change your mind . . . it’ll be all right.”
“I know what I want,” Jamie sulkily replied, peering at him over his shoulder.
“Of course,” the Doctor said, approaching him. He should have checked for Daleks, should have kept their voices low. But he wasn’t thinking about those things now. Instead, he put a hand on Jamie’s back, squeezing him fondly. “Can you walk?”
Jamie took a few tentative steps away from him. “I think so.” The boy wobbled, seemed a bit bowlegged, but did not fall. “Where are we even headed now?”
The alley was silent and unwelcoming. Before them lay potential capture or death by Daleks, behind them the risk of running into Venusian captors. They could backtrack and try a parallel route, but the Doctor did not feel that that would really be any safer. Turning 360° as he considered the options, he finally stopped, shaking his head. “I honestly don’t know.”