FIC: Obligatory Experiences to be Repressed...
Title: Obligatory Experiences to be Repressed and Never Spoken of Again
Rating/Warning: MASSIVELY NC-17. Porn porn porn porn, a bit of language, and the usual dub-con that comes with an Aliens Made Them Do It fic.
Characters/Pairings: Eight/Fitz, with a side-order of Anji.
Word Count: 5524. Because I am incapable of writing a PWP correctly.
Summary: The name of the game is plausible deniability.
Notes: I couldn't find an Aliens Made Them Do It fic for this fandom. I come from the SGA fandom, so this was a crime that had to be stopped. Thanks again to lullabee_lj for letting me write at you.
Fertility, Fitz felt, was a massively misused word.
He was aware that it had several connotations and that in theory, some places in the universe would be more partial to a particular definition than his. To him, the word was about trees and green and plants, things like that. That was why while Anji opted to visit the local government house, he decided to look into the local temples instead. Temples usually meant some nice architecture and offerings to the gods, which was the most he could hope for in the Fyvan village. There was a distinct lack of music around the place, and the alcohol wasn't very good either, everything distilled from local fruits and tasting far too sweet for his tastes.
Anyway. Fertility temples. They should have the decency to be about autumnal harvests or something. Then again, maybe Fyva didn't have an autumn. If that was the case, he couldn't blame them then for what happened. Poor backwoods pre-industrial planet without proper seasons.
Perhaps not so poor though. They were clever enough to set up the temple in a way that got them into this mess. Stone walls shouldn't slide shut like that, blocking them into the chamber they'd gotten a bit too curious about. They were stone, for goodness sake. Polished, elaborately carved stone that looked interesting from what he could see in the torchlight, but stone.
"That's bad, right?" Fitz asked, watching the Doctor wave his screwdriver at the edges of the stone door. "It looks bad. It looks like we're blocked in with no way out."
The Doctor hummed noncommittally, focused on trying to get the door open again.
"I just wanted to do the enlightened thing, show interest in the local culture, you know. Maybe grab a bite to eat. Places like this, you'd think they'd be full of food. Offerings to the gods, that sort of thing."
"I don't think it's that sort of fertility, Fitz," the Doctor said softly, stepping back from what was formerly a door and was now a wall. He tapped the sonic against his chin, walking around the room, examining the walls.
Fitz sat down on one of the plush cushions in the middle of the room and watched him, a sinking feeling seizing him. He didn't like where this was going.
Ten minutes of meticulous scrutinizing of the chamber later, Fitz wasn't the least bit surprised when the Doctor announced, "Yes, we're sealed in."
"Good to have confirmation. Any clue on the why?"
"Still working on that," he said distractedly, moving back to the wall and starting to stare intently at the carvings and paintings there.
They'd been in the room twenty minutes and Fitz was getting bored, tapping out a tattoo on his knees. He was getting a pretty good rhythm. If he had his guitar he could try writing something with it.
He lost the beat when the Doctor said, "I have good news and bad news."
"Good," Fitz said immediately.
"Good? All right. Well, the room is not going to kill us in any nasty ways. In fact, this is perfectly normal and we should be fine."
"That's a relief. So what's the bad?"
The Doctor went on. "This is perfectly normal because this is a sacred chamber meant to help keep the temple... dedicated to its cause."
"Okay," Fitz said slowly. "Wanna elaborate?"
"Oh, not particularly, no." He frowned. "I'm not looking forward to your reaction to this."
"Last week, those tribal guys tried to sacrifice Anji and me to their gods. Can't be worse than that."
The Doctor tilted his head and thought about this. "All right, it's not that unfortunate a situation, I will admit. It's still a little hard to explain."
Fitz waved a hand impatiently. "Just give me the short version, Doc. I can take it."
"Oh... Oh, well then, the short version." He was blushing now, that was weird. He tapped his fingers together in a subtly nervous gesture. "For the door to open, we'll have to go through with the fertility rite this room is designed for."
Fitz looked around. There wasn't much to the place, just a few comfy pillows and silk throws on the floor, a few complicated blown-glass bottles that glowed in the torchlight, and a basin of water. "For... napping?" He shrugged. "Doesn't seem all that specialized in here." He picked up a bottle and went on, "Maybe get a bit smashed then nap?" That sounded fun.
The Doctor sighed, a bit exasperated and crossed the room to snatch the bottle out of his hand. "This is not alcohol." He ran a finger around the lip of the drink, then touched it to his tongue. His frown deepened. "Definitely not." He put the bottle back on the floor, shaking his head.
"Okay, enough. Just tell me," Fitz groused. This wasn't seeming like the 'short version,' and he was still hungry and the sooner they left, the better.
"The door will only open after the rite is performed."
"Meaning what?!"
The Doctor looked Fitz in the eyes, almost angry, like he was upset at having to just say it. "We have to sleep together, Fitz. That's what it means."
There was quiet for a few moments as Fitz absorbed this.
After, he had a few thoughts to share once he was done turning this information over in his head.
"Are you kidding?! That's... that's the most stupid-- this is a temple! Isn't that like having sex during Sunday service?! What is wrong with this planet?" The room didn't seem so harmless now and he wrapped his arms around his knees, glaring at the floor bed and the walls. Oh, the walls had sex drawings on them. How had he not spotted that before? "They lock people up and make them have sex, that's not right!"
"There are some obvious pictorial warnings on the walls. I just didn't think they were so serious. I didn't expect such a, well, somewhat primitive society to have the ability to make a room like this."
"I was thinking that! And how are they going to even know?" Fitz jumped to his feet and looked around. "They're not watching from somewhere, are they?"
The Doctor cracked a small smile at that. "No, likely the room itself has a monitoring system to tell when the rite's participants have... are finished." He looked at the wall again, composed, but red around the cheeks. "Not all planets go through the exact same progression of technological level."
"Well, good for them, making such a nice required shagging room for their little temple," Fitz said bitterly. He said in a softer tone, "Can we really not get out?"
The Doctor finally looked at him. He was trying to be reassuring, Fitz could tell. The smile he gave him didn't quite reach his eyes. "We could, with some doing, likely find whatever mechanism sealed this room. We could make use of something to pry open that bit of wall and get to it. But there is a matter of..." He steepled his fingers and tapped them against his mouth. "This room is meant to be sacred to the Fyva people. No two or more people enter it without performing the usual rituals."
"I follow you. So what?"
The Doctor walked over to a bit of wall barely light by the torches. "Should the room become unholy-- that is, what would happen if we did break out-- the entire temple would have to be rebuilt." He nodded to a few engravings before him. "It's been done before. This particular temple is only a decade old."
"So... not that big a deal if we pull a runner?" He was getting his hopes up, he could already see it in how the Doctor's smile flickered.
"It'd take them about fifty years to rebuild it. And..." He ran his palm over a bit of text on the wall, "last build, seven people died. It's not safe work, what with the lack of industrialism."
"Oh." Fitz sat back down on a cushion heavily. "So... okay, we could, but then we'd likely not be able to look at ourselves in our mirrors in the morning. Okay."
"But it is possible. We could, if you... found that course of action preferable."
Fitz looked up at the Doctor, leaning against the wall on the other side of the room. His arms were crossed almost protectively around his chest and he wasn't looking at Fitz. He knew he'd do it if Fitz said so, if he'd rather fuck up a sacred site instead of... shag him.
He blew out a long sigh and rubbed his face. "I just wanted to grab some food. I'm sorry."
The Doctor shook his head. "I could have gotten you food in the village. And I should have been more careful about this temple. You're not the only one at fault." Sharing blame that easily, that was weird. Usually it was all Fitz's fault or the Doctor took total responsibility. This was different.
"So, what happens on Fyva, stays on Fyva?"
The Doctor blinked, confused for a beat, then chuckled. "If you like."
"Yeah. Okay, that works." Fitz nodded to himself and started to untie his shoelaces and toe off his boots. A thought struck him. "Hey, have you ever... before now, have you... I kind of assumed you and--"
"Yes," the Doctor said curtly, sparing Fitz any more floundering. "I have. Don't worry about that." Slowly he walked over to where Fitz was sitting, taking off his coat. He laid it neatly on the floor and carefully unwound his cravat.
It was strange, both of them undressing with such forced casualness. He couldn't stand the quiet. "So, they realize two blokes can't be fertile and stuff, right?"
"Fertility may be the TARDIS's attempt to simplify the concept for you," the Doctor replied, unbuttoning his waistcoat, half-turned away from Fitz as Fitz tossed his leather jacket on the floor along with his hat. "It's a bit more complicated, more about a connection between the people of this planet and the world itself on an allegorical, tactile level."
"And she didn't think that would fit on a sign, huh?" There, the Doctor smiled a little again, much to Fitz's relief.
There was the long scar on his chest, catching Fitz's attention. "Should we be doing this? With your heart gone and all?"
The Doctor gave him a fond look, like he was touched by the concern. "I'll be fine, Fitz. Or are you looking for excuses not to do this?"
"No!" Fitz flinched. "I mean, I don't want to but... You're handsome and all, and I don't want to get the Fyvans angry at us, but it's kind of weird, isn't it?" He ran a hand through his hair, rewinding what he'd said. "I didn't mean I was attracted to you either, because that'd make things awkward between us, but if I had to be forced to shag a bloke, I think I'd prefer it to be you. Is that weird to say? Everything feels weird now."
"I think you need to relax a little, Fitz," the Doctor advised just as his trousers hit the floor. Fitz pulled his shirt off quickly to block the view. There was no way this wasn't going to be the most awkward shag since he was a teenager. And unlike back then with his anonymous fumblings with people he would never see again, this one was going to haunt him.
"I don't know how," he said quickly. "Shit, please don't take that badly, but this is..." He shrugged, defeated, and put his hands over his mouth to stop himself from saying more. It didn't help, just made him muffled as he continued. "This is bad pulp sci-fi stuff you read in the back of trashy magazines. Shag or die, seriously?"
"We're not going to die."
"No, I'm just going to shag my best friend, that's all. I mean, Doc, can't you buy me a drink first at least?" He laughed, a tight shaky sound.
The Doctor didn't reply, just picked up a lividly green bottle from the collection and handed it to Fitz. Fitz looked at it, then up at him. "What is it?"
"It'll calm you. And make things easier."
"Like... oh you're kidding me, it's an--"
"Drink," the Doctor told him sternly.
Fitz stared at the bottle a long moment before putting it to his lips and tipping his head back. The liquid was thick, almost too much so to be considered a drink, and tasted like a mix of the local ale and even more fruit, tangy. He took a small mouthful, then moved to lower the bottle. The Doctor caught it mid-motion, and he pulled it back up. Fitz's eyes widened and he quickly swallowed some more. Before he knew it, the Doctor took it from him, the glass clear and colorless, the bottle drained.
The Doctor was watching him intently, like he was waiting. Fitz wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and swept his tongue over his teeth, collecting the lingering taste of citrus. "Well. You're pushy." No response, just piercing observation that was making Fitz even more nervous. "Is that stuff going to kick in soon or... or..." His voice faded as his vision swam suddenly and he had to reach out a hand on the bed to hold himself up. A warm feeling was fanning out from his chest. It was almost like having a hot cup of tea in the middle of winter, the way you could feel it flow through you. This was exponentially stronger though. It wasn't just warmth, that was only a precursor for the heat that was now flooding his veins. He shut his eyes and tightened his fist in the cushions. "Oh shit, shit, shit."
The Doctor's hands felt arctic when they touched his shoulder. "Stop holding your breath. You'll only make it stronger. Just relax."
"Easier said than done." Fitz tried though, attempted to untense despite the foreign heat that felt like it was in his blood, carried to each part of his body gradually.
"Stop thinking about it. Here," the Doctor tilted Fitz's head so their eyes met. "Just look at me for a moment."
"Okay," Fitz panted, focusing on his eyes. What about them? There were very, very blue. They didn't look like they should be, something alien and strange about the bright light of his irises, like they were iridescent. Maybe they would glow in the dark. Fitz always suspected as much. There was something vaguely not human about them. The pupils were too small, the ring of color around them too big. Could he see things Fitz couldn't? UV rays, radio waves, things like that which humans could not?
Fitz's eyes snapped shut and he bit his lip suddenly to avoid crying out. That sweet white heat hit his mind, like a match set to the corner of a piece of paper. His thoughts melted and curled, twisting out of his grasp. He let them go, not really caring too much anymore. Instead, he slumped forward, his cheek pressing against the Doctor's abdomen. "Ugh... Whoa..." He laughed, high-pitched and closer to a giggle than he'd ever admit to. "Oh god, you got me smashed."
"Shush," the Doctor murmured, kneeling on the floor next to Fitz. Without him to lean on, Fitz overbalanced and fell onto his back, the world spinning lazily around him. At least the floor was soft. Fitz pressed his cheek into the silks.
"I don't feel so hot." He snickered. "Or, actually, I do. That's the problem. I feel really hot. And in the pre-1980s sense too." He dimly remembered the Doctor had very cool skin and reached out for him. "Hey, c'mere."
The Doctor let himself be tugged over, sprawled over Fitz's chest. "I think perhaps I gave you a bit too much of the aphrodisiac..."
"No, no, nooo." Fitz tucked his head against the Doctor's cool, smooth skin, right against his neck. "Yeah, okay, a bit. What'd you do that for?"
"Like I said, to make things easier."
"Mmmhmphl."
"What?"
"Mmmhmmmphl."
The Doctor shifted. "Fitz, you can't speak and do that to my neck at the same time."
Oh, he hadn't even noticed he'd been trying to give the Doctor a hickey. He stopped reluctantly and slumped back against the pillows. "Sorry."
"... Don't be." The Doctor leaned over him on one arm, gaze cloudy and giving little away. Fitz decided it'd be a good idea to lighten the mood and wiggled underneath him and kissed the scar on his chest. "Fitz," he breathed, but didn't do anything to stop him, so Fitz didn't.
After letting Fitz trace the long scar with his tongue and scrape his teeth over it lightly, the Doctor lurched to the side and snapped up another bottle, blue this time. He sat back and drank deeply, and Fitz watched his Adam's apple bob up and down until the bottle was empty. Fitz whistled. "You learned a few things on Earth," he remarked.
The Doctor let the bottle roll away and braced himself over Fitz. Fitz watched with lazy interest as his pupils shrank and his breathing got shallower. Curious, Fitz pressed his hand to the Doctor's chest. He shuddered and leaned into Fitz's hand, head falling down with a groan, hair brushing against Fitz's chest.
"Just breathe and relax," Fitz repeated back to the Doctor. Then, recalling how helpful a distraction was, he sat up and kissed the Doctor soundly. He caught him by surprise and took the opportunity to lick his way into the Doctor's mouth. He tasted just as sweet, a bit like plums or some kind of stone fruit. Pulling back just a inch, he said, "I thought you couldn't get drunk. You metabolize it or something."
"I can choose to not," the Doctor replied shortly and shoved Fitz back down on the bed cushions again, pressing their mouths together again in a bossy way that struck Fitz as very Doctorish. "Stop laughing," the Doctor ordered just as seriously before resuming his cartography of Fitz's mouth.
The intensity struck Fitz as hilarious. They were living one of the big cliches, their own arbitrary Pon Farr or something, and the Doctor was far too serious for a guy who just drank a full bottle of the awesomely mellowing wine and aphrodisiac. They just drank an honest to god aphrodisiac.
Fitz threw his head back and laughed breathily. The Doctor made an irritated sound and turned his attention to Fitz's neck, lavishing attention with his lips and clever tongue. "Oh, damn, that feels brilliant," Fitz said, then, just to be contrary, dug his fingers into the Doctor's thick curls and tugged him back up and snogged him like he'd been waiting years to do so. He untangled one hand and ran it down the Doctor's side, across the plane of his stomach.
It was a bit like fire and ice. The Doctor was harsh and determined and Fitz was crackling with ecstatic energy. The mixed ale in him was drenching his nerves with electricity, his body buzzing with the need to grab the Doctor and share the feeling. He wondered if all Time Lords were so tense during sex or the Doctor was a special case.
Whatever he was, he was finished letting Fitz have hold of the reins. He caught Fitz's wrists and pinned them above his head, one of the Doctor's hands holding them down easily. With Fitz held still, he could undo his trousers and work them down. Fitz eagerly helped, catching the hem of one leg with his heel and getting the jeans most of the way off. Still Fitz felt overheated and wanted very much to latch onto the Doctor to help with that.
His hands were still held down and he'd forgotten how disproportionately strong the Doctor was. He took a minute trying to get his hands back, shifting and sliding across the silks this way and that. "Fuck, come on, Doc, don't be a bastard," he pleaded. The Doctor held him fast and kissed him again.
Fitz was having none of that. He was never going to be accused of being a good sport. He lived to play dirty and so bent his knee, pressing his leg between the Doctor's softly. "For a second there, I thought you weren't enjoying yourself," he said crudely. He wasn't even freaking out about having a bloke hard against his leg. He needed to grab a few bottles of that stuff when they left, provided this was the alien booze talking and not whatever the TARDIS might have done when rewiring his head.
He'd think about that later. Now he finally shook up the Doctor's stoicism, his eyes shut as he groaned softly. "Ha." The Doctor shot Fitz a stern look that faded when Fitz smirked at him. "You, Doctor, are lucky you're kinda sexy when you're frowning like that."
The Doctor's grip loosened just for a moment and Fitz took advantage, getting one hand free. There was a moment of struggle as the Doctor tried to grab him again and only succeeded in falling over onto his side. Fitz crawled on top of him, sealed their mouths together, and forced the Doctor's head back against the pillows with a brutal kiss.
He knew the Doctor was letting him turn the table and push his hands above his head. The Doctor was just too strong to be properly pinned by Fitz of all people. It was obvious he was all right being on his back for the moment, so Fitz let go and put his hands to better use, reaching out to grab a different, stouter bottle and tipping it into his palm. It was much thinner than the drinks but slick as anything, as Fitz expected. Coating his palms, he put them on the Doctor's chest, dragging slowly downward, pushing hard against him. At his hips, they slipped back and Fitz found the Doctor had a very nice arse.
The Doctor turned his head away from Fitz's, gasping for air, finally looking just the right kind of debauched. His skin was flushed and mouth dyed red from Fitz's unkind but enthusiastic kisses.
"You look ... really good," Fitz breathed. "I wish I kissed you ages ago."
That pulled the Doctor's attention back to him in an instant. "You don't mean that."
"'Course I do." Fitz nipped at his bottom lip. "This whole rite thing isn't going to be that difficult," he promised, hands sliding from the Doctor's arse down to his knees, rubbing, his fingers digging in just a bit. This was becoming less about have to and closer to want to. Close, but not near enough.
Fitz leaned over, grabbed the neck of a bottle and took a long drag from it, tart almost-cherry-raspberry on his tongue. He swallowed, let his mouth fill again, and slammed the bottle back down. He cupped the Doctor's head and kissed him like that, deep and sloppy, berry sweetness everywhere and sharing the heady drink with him. And the Doctor let him, wrapping his arms around Fitz's neck and sweeping his tongue into Fitz's mouth greedily. It was deliriously good, another rush of heat flaring in Fitz's body, and now he could admit he really wanted to fuck the Doctor. He had to, and not because of any bloody ritual.
More oil on his hands and Fitz had enough haze clouding his mind he didn't give a second thought to pulling the Doctor's legs around his hips and pressing a finger into him. A choked sound beneath him, the Doctor's gasp, opening his legs that much more shamelessly. Fitz licked up the violet-red liquid running down the side of his mouth, tracing the drop rolling down his chin. The soft skin there was tempting and Fitz distracted the Doctor with another finger pressing inside. He panted, gripping hard onto Fitz's biceps, hard enough to likely bruise, but did nothing to stop Fitz when he started sucking on his neck again. His high collar wouldn't hide the mark, Fitz carefully made sure of that.
He was so focused on spreading slickness and working on that hickey, Fitz jerked with surprise when one of the Doctor's hands, also coated in oil, wrapped around his cock and started to stroke. "Oh, fuck." His hips rocked forward, pushing the Doctor's legs even wider, and his fingers slipped that much deeper.
"Oh my-- Fitz," the Doctor gasped, making a strangled noise in the back of his throat. "I need... Fitz, let me--" he stopped trying to string words together and pushed Fitz's shoulders, shoving him off. Once Fitz was on his back, the Doctor climbed onto him and held himself up on his knees. "Please."
Fitz looked at him, positioned as he was, and shut his eyes. "Yes, fuck, I'm not going to say no, come on--" His rambling morphed into a deep, shaking moan as the Doctor sank down onto him, echoing around the room. The Doctor slowly sat down, Fitz buried inside him to the hilt by the time he rested on Fitz's thighs.
They were still then, both breathing loudly and rapidly, adjusting. Fitz managed to get control of himself and risked looking at the Doctor. He found he was staring right back, eyelids heavy, eyes dark. His lips were still bruised, cheeks still flushed, hair a complete disarray, and there was a flaring red spot showing up on his neck.
"You have no right to be fucking beautiful like that," Fitz groaned. "You look like a mess, how is that possible? That's not fair." He would have went on, but the Doctor started to move, just enough to drive Fitz mad. The angle wasn't the most forgiving and Fitz tried to help, curling his hands around the Doctor's hips.
The Doctor planted his hands on Fitz's chest, lifting himself up with the extra leverage, then sliding back down, all the way. "You," he gasped, "talk entirely too much, Fitz." And like he was trying to keep Fitz from letting anything out but strained groans and the Doctor's name, he rocked himself back and forth. That worked, and they both went quiet, focused on chasing the fleeting, sharp pleasure.
It quickly turned frantic, Fitz's hips trying to meet the Doctor's every thrust, the Doctor's hands pressing hard against Fitz as he tried to find the best way to hold himself up, both making undignified groaning sounds. It was way too hot, the alien liquor inside, the Doctor out, skin warming up from all the exertion. It couldn't have been easy to be missing your heart and move like that.
Fitz sat up as much as he could and caught his lips. The Doctor stilled for just a moment, dazed, then clutched at Fitz's shoulders and continued riding him, kisses lazy and uncoordinated, all his focus on the movement of his hips. They were tangled together, so very close, crushed together. The Doctor just writhed on Fitz's cock, pressing their foreheads together, his breathing fast and punctuated with desperate little noises against Fitz's mouth.
It was amazing to watch the Doctor like that, stripped of his prevailing calm. Fitz wasn't much more coherent, but he could see how close he was. He knew he'd likely never get to see the Doctor in such a state again. It was nothing but a shame, because it was a look he could get used to, intimate and vulnerable.
Fitz put his hand along the Doctor's face, murmuring, "Got you. I've got you, okay?" He took the Doctor's cock in hand and stroked, squeezing with every rocking motion into his lap. "Let go, I've got you..."
The Doctor's head fell back and he cried out, his rhythm falling apart as his orgasm hit him. His body tensed all together, arms around Fitz tight, back arched. Fitz shouted hoarsely, head against the Doctor's neck as he tipped over the edge with him, clutching him close as he came, dizzy from the force of it.
The Doctor slowly bent forward again and slumped on Fitz, head on his shoulder, quiet. Fitz wasn't about to break the silence, both because he was afraid of what the next words between them would be and because he wasn't feeling too eloquent at the moment.
Across the room, there was a grinding sound as the door slid open. "Oh, excellent," the Doctor said softly. "If that hadn't worked, I'd have felt very foolish."
Fitz chuckled and kissed the top of his head affectionately. "I'd assume this was all a big scam to get me into bed."
"Oh, you've learned of my devilish scheme." The Doctor shifted against Fitz, then added in a perturbed tone, "This is a bit uncomfortable now."
"Yeah, hold on." Moving languidly, they separated, sated and a bit sticky from everything. Fitz remembered the water basin off to the side and they both used it to clean up a bit in a silence that was hovering between awkward and companionable.
Fitz wandered back to the cushions and let himself fall on across them bonelessly, sprawled loose-limbed over most of them. "I am going to be so bloody hungover when I wake up."
The Doctor touched the skin just above his knee. Fitz lifted his head reluctantly and looked back at him. "You don't want to go back to the TARDIS?"
"Is that door going to close again?"
"I don't believe so."
"Are we in any rush?"
"Not particularly."
Fitz lay his head back down. "I need a nap."
"All right..." There was the sound of the Doctor's bare feet padding along the floor before he crawled onto the pillows as well, a silk sheet in one hand. "In case someone walks by," he explained faintly, draping the fabric over Fitz, then lying next to him.
Fitz turned, watching the Doctor gingerly situate himself. His face pinched into a wince as tried to lay on his back, and he wisely rolled onto his side as well. "You okay?"
"I'll be fine, Fitz." He smiled gratefully and grabbed a pillow, pulling it under his head. "Do you mind if I...?"
"No, not at all," Fitz replied, spreading the sheet over him too before relaxing. He laid his head on his folded arms, one eye open and watching the Doctor rest until sleep claimed him.
Some time later, Fitz came out of his sleep, awareness coming slowly. It brought with it a mildly buzzed feeling and his arm slung around the Doctor's waist comfortably. The Doctor was asleep, and it almost seemed like an unnatural state for him. He couldn't avoid staring, taking in the peaceful set to his face, the flickering of his eyelids, the way his hair was mussed from sleep. The Doctor had bedhead. That was the most alien thing about him for some reason.
He'd blame the lingering inebriation. He'd blame the fact he just woke up and wasn't thinking straight. Fitz would think up a hundred excuses afterward. For now, he needed to touch the Doctor, brush his fingertips over his smooth brow and down the side of his face. He had to be sure he was real.
The Doctor's eyes slid open, drowsily darting to Fitz's hand on his face, then locking to Fitz's eyes. He didn't ask, just waiting for Fitz to do something.
What Fitz did was push himself up, lean over the Doctor, and grab a filled bottle next to their bed. Holding the Doctor's gaze, he took a long drink.
Fitz barely had time to set the half-filled bottle aside before the Doctor pulled him down and kissed him.
It all spiraled out of control from there.
"Oh my god," Anji gasped. "What happened?"
Fitz flinched and put a finger to his lips, head throbbing. The Doctor, who looked more wrecked than Fitz could have imagined him, grabbed Fitz's shoulder and stopped him from walking into a tree. They were both rather unsteady on their feet and the Doctor might have been limping slightly.
"Oh, this and that," the Doctor said airily.
"I need a nap," Fitz mumbled.
"Another one?"
"Yes."
Anji shook her head at them. "What... how did you..." She blinked, peering hard at the Doctor. "Tell me that's not a hickey."
"It's not a hickey," the Doctor replied dutifully, rubbing his face wearily.
She gave them a severe, measuring look. "So, while you two were off exploring, I introduced the Fyvans to capitalism."
"That's nice, Anji."
Her frown deepened. "And they were so thrilled, they made me empress."
"Very clever of them," the Doctor murmured as he shuffled along.
"So I declared war on the rest of the planet. They're mostly dead now."
"Mmhm..."
She rolled her eyes. "You are not listening to a word I say."
"Whatever, Anj. We're sorry about leaving you, but it's bedtime, now," Fitz grumbled, opening the TARDIS and holding it open for the other two.
As she passed him, she gave him a withering stare. "You two are impossible."
"Uh huh." Fitz yawned widely. "I may sleep for a week."
"That would be such a shame." The Doctor smiled at him as he entered the TARDIS. Fitz spotted a bottle tucked inside his coat pocket, and grinned back.
Sorry. Kinda. Not really. 83
-Lucy
Rating/Warning: MASSIVELY NC-17. Porn porn porn porn, a bit of language, and the usual dub-con that comes with an Aliens Made Them Do It fic.
Characters/Pairings: Eight/Fitz, with a side-order of Anji.
Word Count: 5524. Because I am incapable of writing a PWP correctly.
Summary: The name of the game is plausible deniability.
Notes: I couldn't find an Aliens Made Them Do It fic for this fandom. I come from the SGA fandom, so this was a crime that had to be stopped. Thanks again to lullabee_lj for letting me write at you.
Fertility, Fitz felt, was a massively misused word.
He was aware that it had several connotations and that in theory, some places in the universe would be more partial to a particular definition than his. To him, the word was about trees and green and plants, things like that. That was why while Anji opted to visit the local government house, he decided to look into the local temples instead. Temples usually meant some nice architecture and offerings to the gods, which was the most he could hope for in the Fyvan village. There was a distinct lack of music around the place, and the alcohol wasn't very good either, everything distilled from local fruits and tasting far too sweet for his tastes.
Anyway. Fertility temples. They should have the decency to be about autumnal harvests or something. Then again, maybe Fyva didn't have an autumn. If that was the case, he couldn't blame them then for what happened. Poor backwoods pre-industrial planet without proper seasons.
Perhaps not so poor though. They were clever enough to set up the temple in a way that got them into this mess. Stone walls shouldn't slide shut like that, blocking them into the chamber they'd gotten a bit too curious about. They were stone, for goodness sake. Polished, elaborately carved stone that looked interesting from what he could see in the torchlight, but stone.
"That's bad, right?" Fitz asked, watching the Doctor wave his screwdriver at the edges of the stone door. "It looks bad. It looks like we're blocked in with no way out."
The Doctor hummed noncommittally, focused on trying to get the door open again.
"I just wanted to do the enlightened thing, show interest in the local culture, you know. Maybe grab a bite to eat. Places like this, you'd think they'd be full of food. Offerings to the gods, that sort of thing."
"I don't think it's that sort of fertility, Fitz," the Doctor said softly, stepping back from what was formerly a door and was now a wall. He tapped the sonic against his chin, walking around the room, examining the walls.
Fitz sat down on one of the plush cushions in the middle of the room and watched him, a sinking feeling seizing him. He didn't like where this was going.
Ten minutes of meticulous scrutinizing of the chamber later, Fitz wasn't the least bit surprised when the Doctor announced, "Yes, we're sealed in."
"Good to have confirmation. Any clue on the why?"
"Still working on that," he said distractedly, moving back to the wall and starting to stare intently at the carvings and paintings there.
They'd been in the room twenty minutes and Fitz was getting bored, tapping out a tattoo on his knees. He was getting a pretty good rhythm. If he had his guitar he could try writing something with it.
He lost the beat when the Doctor said, "I have good news and bad news."
"Good," Fitz said immediately.
"Good? All right. Well, the room is not going to kill us in any nasty ways. In fact, this is perfectly normal and we should be fine."
"That's a relief. So what's the bad?"
The Doctor went on. "This is perfectly normal because this is a sacred chamber meant to help keep the temple... dedicated to its cause."
"Okay," Fitz said slowly. "Wanna elaborate?"
"Oh, not particularly, no." He frowned. "I'm not looking forward to your reaction to this."
"Last week, those tribal guys tried to sacrifice Anji and me to their gods. Can't be worse than that."
The Doctor tilted his head and thought about this. "All right, it's not that unfortunate a situation, I will admit. It's still a little hard to explain."
Fitz waved a hand impatiently. "Just give me the short version, Doc. I can take it."
"Oh... Oh, well then, the short version." He was blushing now, that was weird. He tapped his fingers together in a subtly nervous gesture. "For the door to open, we'll have to go through with the fertility rite this room is designed for."
Fitz looked around. There wasn't much to the place, just a few comfy pillows and silk throws on the floor, a few complicated blown-glass bottles that glowed in the torchlight, and a basin of water. "For... napping?" He shrugged. "Doesn't seem all that specialized in here." He picked up a bottle and went on, "Maybe get a bit smashed then nap?" That sounded fun.
The Doctor sighed, a bit exasperated and crossed the room to snatch the bottle out of his hand. "This is not alcohol." He ran a finger around the lip of the drink, then touched it to his tongue. His frown deepened. "Definitely not." He put the bottle back on the floor, shaking his head.
"Okay, enough. Just tell me," Fitz groused. This wasn't seeming like the 'short version,' and he was still hungry and the sooner they left, the better.
"The door will only open after the rite is performed."
"Meaning what?!"
The Doctor looked Fitz in the eyes, almost angry, like he was upset at having to just say it. "We have to sleep together, Fitz. That's what it means."
There was quiet for a few moments as Fitz absorbed this.
After, he had a few thoughts to share once he was done turning this information over in his head.
"Are you kidding?! That's... that's the most stupid-- this is a temple! Isn't that like having sex during Sunday service?! What is wrong with this planet?" The room didn't seem so harmless now and he wrapped his arms around his knees, glaring at the floor bed and the walls. Oh, the walls had sex drawings on them. How had he not spotted that before? "They lock people up and make them have sex, that's not right!"
"There are some obvious pictorial warnings on the walls. I just didn't think they were so serious. I didn't expect such a, well, somewhat primitive society to have the ability to make a room like this."
"I was thinking that! And how are they going to even know?" Fitz jumped to his feet and looked around. "They're not watching from somewhere, are they?"
The Doctor cracked a small smile at that. "No, likely the room itself has a monitoring system to tell when the rite's participants have... are finished." He looked at the wall again, composed, but red around the cheeks. "Not all planets go through the exact same progression of technological level."
"Well, good for them, making such a nice required shagging room for their little temple," Fitz said bitterly. He said in a softer tone, "Can we really not get out?"
The Doctor finally looked at him. He was trying to be reassuring, Fitz could tell. The smile he gave him didn't quite reach his eyes. "We could, with some doing, likely find whatever mechanism sealed this room. We could make use of something to pry open that bit of wall and get to it. But there is a matter of..." He steepled his fingers and tapped them against his mouth. "This room is meant to be sacred to the Fyva people. No two or more people enter it without performing the usual rituals."
"I follow you. So what?"
The Doctor walked over to a bit of wall barely light by the torches. "Should the room become unholy-- that is, what would happen if we did break out-- the entire temple would have to be rebuilt." He nodded to a few engravings before him. "It's been done before. This particular temple is only a decade old."
"So... not that big a deal if we pull a runner?" He was getting his hopes up, he could already see it in how the Doctor's smile flickered.
"It'd take them about fifty years to rebuild it. And..." He ran his palm over a bit of text on the wall, "last build, seven people died. It's not safe work, what with the lack of industrialism."
"Oh." Fitz sat back down on a cushion heavily. "So... okay, we could, but then we'd likely not be able to look at ourselves in our mirrors in the morning. Okay."
"But it is possible. We could, if you... found that course of action preferable."
Fitz looked up at the Doctor, leaning against the wall on the other side of the room. His arms were crossed almost protectively around his chest and he wasn't looking at Fitz. He knew he'd do it if Fitz said so, if he'd rather fuck up a sacred site instead of... shag him.
He blew out a long sigh and rubbed his face. "I just wanted to grab some food. I'm sorry."
The Doctor shook his head. "I could have gotten you food in the village. And I should have been more careful about this temple. You're not the only one at fault." Sharing blame that easily, that was weird. Usually it was all Fitz's fault or the Doctor took total responsibility. This was different.
"So, what happens on Fyva, stays on Fyva?"
The Doctor blinked, confused for a beat, then chuckled. "If you like."
"Yeah. Okay, that works." Fitz nodded to himself and started to untie his shoelaces and toe off his boots. A thought struck him. "Hey, have you ever... before now, have you... I kind of assumed you and--"
"Yes," the Doctor said curtly, sparing Fitz any more floundering. "I have. Don't worry about that." Slowly he walked over to where Fitz was sitting, taking off his coat. He laid it neatly on the floor and carefully unwound his cravat.
It was strange, both of them undressing with such forced casualness. He couldn't stand the quiet. "So, they realize two blokes can't be fertile and stuff, right?"
"Fertility may be the TARDIS's attempt to simplify the concept for you," the Doctor replied, unbuttoning his waistcoat, half-turned away from Fitz as Fitz tossed his leather jacket on the floor along with his hat. "It's a bit more complicated, more about a connection between the people of this planet and the world itself on an allegorical, tactile level."
"And she didn't think that would fit on a sign, huh?" There, the Doctor smiled a little again, much to Fitz's relief.
There was the long scar on his chest, catching Fitz's attention. "Should we be doing this? With your heart gone and all?"
The Doctor gave him a fond look, like he was touched by the concern. "I'll be fine, Fitz. Or are you looking for excuses not to do this?"
"No!" Fitz flinched. "I mean, I don't want to but... You're handsome and all, and I don't want to get the Fyvans angry at us, but it's kind of weird, isn't it?" He ran a hand through his hair, rewinding what he'd said. "I didn't mean I was attracted to you either, because that'd make things awkward between us, but if I had to be forced to shag a bloke, I think I'd prefer it to be you. Is that weird to say? Everything feels weird now."
"I think you need to relax a little, Fitz," the Doctor advised just as his trousers hit the floor. Fitz pulled his shirt off quickly to block the view. There was no way this wasn't going to be the most awkward shag since he was a teenager. And unlike back then with his anonymous fumblings with people he would never see again, this one was going to haunt him.
"I don't know how," he said quickly. "Shit, please don't take that badly, but this is..." He shrugged, defeated, and put his hands over his mouth to stop himself from saying more. It didn't help, just made him muffled as he continued. "This is bad pulp sci-fi stuff you read in the back of trashy magazines. Shag or die, seriously?"
"We're not going to die."
"No, I'm just going to shag my best friend, that's all. I mean, Doc, can't you buy me a drink first at least?" He laughed, a tight shaky sound.
The Doctor didn't reply, just picked up a lividly green bottle from the collection and handed it to Fitz. Fitz looked at it, then up at him. "What is it?"
"It'll calm you. And make things easier."
"Like... oh you're kidding me, it's an--"
"Drink," the Doctor told him sternly.
Fitz stared at the bottle a long moment before putting it to his lips and tipping his head back. The liquid was thick, almost too much so to be considered a drink, and tasted like a mix of the local ale and even more fruit, tangy. He took a small mouthful, then moved to lower the bottle. The Doctor caught it mid-motion, and he pulled it back up. Fitz's eyes widened and he quickly swallowed some more. Before he knew it, the Doctor took it from him, the glass clear and colorless, the bottle drained.
The Doctor was watching him intently, like he was waiting. Fitz wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and swept his tongue over his teeth, collecting the lingering taste of citrus. "Well. You're pushy." No response, just piercing observation that was making Fitz even more nervous. "Is that stuff going to kick in soon or... or..." His voice faded as his vision swam suddenly and he had to reach out a hand on the bed to hold himself up. A warm feeling was fanning out from his chest. It was almost like having a hot cup of tea in the middle of winter, the way you could feel it flow through you. This was exponentially stronger though. It wasn't just warmth, that was only a precursor for the heat that was now flooding his veins. He shut his eyes and tightened his fist in the cushions. "Oh shit, shit, shit."
The Doctor's hands felt arctic when they touched his shoulder. "Stop holding your breath. You'll only make it stronger. Just relax."
"Easier said than done." Fitz tried though, attempted to untense despite the foreign heat that felt like it was in his blood, carried to each part of his body gradually.
"Stop thinking about it. Here," the Doctor tilted Fitz's head so their eyes met. "Just look at me for a moment."
"Okay," Fitz panted, focusing on his eyes. What about them? There were very, very blue. They didn't look like they should be, something alien and strange about the bright light of his irises, like they were iridescent. Maybe they would glow in the dark. Fitz always suspected as much. There was something vaguely not human about them. The pupils were too small, the ring of color around them too big. Could he see things Fitz couldn't? UV rays, radio waves, things like that which humans could not?
Fitz's eyes snapped shut and he bit his lip suddenly to avoid crying out. That sweet white heat hit his mind, like a match set to the corner of a piece of paper. His thoughts melted and curled, twisting out of his grasp. He let them go, not really caring too much anymore. Instead, he slumped forward, his cheek pressing against the Doctor's abdomen. "Ugh... Whoa..." He laughed, high-pitched and closer to a giggle than he'd ever admit to. "Oh god, you got me smashed."
"Shush," the Doctor murmured, kneeling on the floor next to Fitz. Without him to lean on, Fitz overbalanced and fell onto his back, the world spinning lazily around him. At least the floor was soft. Fitz pressed his cheek into the silks.
"I don't feel so hot." He snickered. "Or, actually, I do. That's the problem. I feel really hot. And in the pre-1980s sense too." He dimly remembered the Doctor had very cool skin and reached out for him. "Hey, c'mere."
The Doctor let himself be tugged over, sprawled over Fitz's chest. "I think perhaps I gave you a bit too much of the aphrodisiac..."
"No, no, nooo." Fitz tucked his head against the Doctor's cool, smooth skin, right against his neck. "Yeah, okay, a bit. What'd you do that for?"
"Like I said, to make things easier."
"Mmmhmphl."
"What?"
"Mmmhmmmphl."
The Doctor shifted. "Fitz, you can't speak and do that to my neck at the same time."
Oh, he hadn't even noticed he'd been trying to give the Doctor a hickey. He stopped reluctantly and slumped back against the pillows. "Sorry."
"... Don't be." The Doctor leaned over him on one arm, gaze cloudy and giving little away. Fitz decided it'd be a good idea to lighten the mood and wiggled underneath him and kissed the scar on his chest. "Fitz," he breathed, but didn't do anything to stop him, so Fitz didn't.
After letting Fitz trace the long scar with his tongue and scrape his teeth over it lightly, the Doctor lurched to the side and snapped up another bottle, blue this time. He sat back and drank deeply, and Fitz watched his Adam's apple bob up and down until the bottle was empty. Fitz whistled. "You learned a few things on Earth," he remarked.
The Doctor let the bottle roll away and braced himself over Fitz. Fitz watched with lazy interest as his pupils shrank and his breathing got shallower. Curious, Fitz pressed his hand to the Doctor's chest. He shuddered and leaned into Fitz's hand, head falling down with a groan, hair brushing against Fitz's chest.
"Just breathe and relax," Fitz repeated back to the Doctor. Then, recalling how helpful a distraction was, he sat up and kissed the Doctor soundly. He caught him by surprise and took the opportunity to lick his way into the Doctor's mouth. He tasted just as sweet, a bit like plums or some kind of stone fruit. Pulling back just a inch, he said, "I thought you couldn't get drunk. You metabolize it or something."
"I can choose to not," the Doctor replied shortly and shoved Fitz back down on the bed cushions again, pressing their mouths together again in a bossy way that struck Fitz as very Doctorish. "Stop laughing," the Doctor ordered just as seriously before resuming his cartography of Fitz's mouth.
The intensity struck Fitz as hilarious. They were living one of the big cliches, their own arbitrary Pon Farr or something, and the Doctor was far too serious for a guy who just drank a full bottle of the awesomely mellowing wine and aphrodisiac. They just drank an honest to god aphrodisiac.
Fitz threw his head back and laughed breathily. The Doctor made an irritated sound and turned his attention to Fitz's neck, lavishing attention with his lips and clever tongue. "Oh, damn, that feels brilliant," Fitz said, then, just to be contrary, dug his fingers into the Doctor's thick curls and tugged him back up and snogged him like he'd been waiting years to do so. He untangled one hand and ran it down the Doctor's side, across the plane of his stomach.
It was a bit like fire and ice. The Doctor was harsh and determined and Fitz was crackling with ecstatic energy. The mixed ale in him was drenching his nerves with electricity, his body buzzing with the need to grab the Doctor and share the feeling. He wondered if all Time Lords were so tense during sex or the Doctor was a special case.
Whatever he was, he was finished letting Fitz have hold of the reins. He caught Fitz's wrists and pinned them above his head, one of the Doctor's hands holding them down easily. With Fitz held still, he could undo his trousers and work them down. Fitz eagerly helped, catching the hem of one leg with his heel and getting the jeans most of the way off. Still Fitz felt overheated and wanted very much to latch onto the Doctor to help with that.
His hands were still held down and he'd forgotten how disproportionately strong the Doctor was. He took a minute trying to get his hands back, shifting and sliding across the silks this way and that. "Fuck, come on, Doc, don't be a bastard," he pleaded. The Doctor held him fast and kissed him again.
Fitz was having none of that. He was never going to be accused of being a good sport. He lived to play dirty and so bent his knee, pressing his leg between the Doctor's softly. "For a second there, I thought you weren't enjoying yourself," he said crudely. He wasn't even freaking out about having a bloke hard against his leg. He needed to grab a few bottles of that stuff when they left, provided this was the alien booze talking and not whatever the TARDIS might have done when rewiring his head.
He'd think about that later. Now he finally shook up the Doctor's stoicism, his eyes shut as he groaned softly. "Ha." The Doctor shot Fitz a stern look that faded when Fitz smirked at him. "You, Doctor, are lucky you're kinda sexy when you're frowning like that."
The Doctor's grip loosened just for a moment and Fitz took advantage, getting one hand free. There was a moment of struggle as the Doctor tried to grab him again and only succeeded in falling over onto his side. Fitz crawled on top of him, sealed their mouths together, and forced the Doctor's head back against the pillows with a brutal kiss.
He knew the Doctor was letting him turn the table and push his hands above his head. The Doctor was just too strong to be properly pinned by Fitz of all people. It was obvious he was all right being on his back for the moment, so Fitz let go and put his hands to better use, reaching out to grab a different, stouter bottle and tipping it into his palm. It was much thinner than the drinks but slick as anything, as Fitz expected. Coating his palms, he put them on the Doctor's chest, dragging slowly downward, pushing hard against him. At his hips, they slipped back and Fitz found the Doctor had a very nice arse.
The Doctor turned his head away from Fitz's, gasping for air, finally looking just the right kind of debauched. His skin was flushed and mouth dyed red from Fitz's unkind but enthusiastic kisses.
"You look ... really good," Fitz breathed. "I wish I kissed you ages ago."
That pulled the Doctor's attention back to him in an instant. "You don't mean that."
"'Course I do." Fitz nipped at his bottom lip. "This whole rite thing isn't going to be that difficult," he promised, hands sliding from the Doctor's arse down to his knees, rubbing, his fingers digging in just a bit. This was becoming less about have to and closer to want to. Close, but not near enough.
Fitz leaned over, grabbed the neck of a bottle and took a long drag from it, tart almost-cherry-raspberry on his tongue. He swallowed, let his mouth fill again, and slammed the bottle back down. He cupped the Doctor's head and kissed him like that, deep and sloppy, berry sweetness everywhere and sharing the heady drink with him. And the Doctor let him, wrapping his arms around Fitz's neck and sweeping his tongue into Fitz's mouth greedily. It was deliriously good, another rush of heat flaring in Fitz's body, and now he could admit he really wanted to fuck the Doctor. He had to, and not because of any bloody ritual.
More oil on his hands and Fitz had enough haze clouding his mind he didn't give a second thought to pulling the Doctor's legs around his hips and pressing a finger into him. A choked sound beneath him, the Doctor's gasp, opening his legs that much more shamelessly. Fitz licked up the violet-red liquid running down the side of his mouth, tracing the drop rolling down his chin. The soft skin there was tempting and Fitz distracted the Doctor with another finger pressing inside. He panted, gripping hard onto Fitz's biceps, hard enough to likely bruise, but did nothing to stop Fitz when he started sucking on his neck again. His high collar wouldn't hide the mark, Fitz carefully made sure of that.
He was so focused on spreading slickness and working on that hickey, Fitz jerked with surprise when one of the Doctor's hands, also coated in oil, wrapped around his cock and started to stroke. "Oh, fuck." His hips rocked forward, pushing the Doctor's legs even wider, and his fingers slipped that much deeper.
"Oh my-- Fitz," the Doctor gasped, making a strangled noise in the back of his throat. "I need... Fitz, let me--" he stopped trying to string words together and pushed Fitz's shoulders, shoving him off. Once Fitz was on his back, the Doctor climbed onto him and held himself up on his knees. "Please."
Fitz looked at him, positioned as he was, and shut his eyes. "Yes, fuck, I'm not going to say no, come on--" His rambling morphed into a deep, shaking moan as the Doctor sank down onto him, echoing around the room. The Doctor slowly sat down, Fitz buried inside him to the hilt by the time he rested on Fitz's thighs.
They were still then, both breathing loudly and rapidly, adjusting. Fitz managed to get control of himself and risked looking at the Doctor. He found he was staring right back, eyelids heavy, eyes dark. His lips were still bruised, cheeks still flushed, hair a complete disarray, and there was a flaring red spot showing up on his neck.
"You have no right to be fucking beautiful like that," Fitz groaned. "You look like a mess, how is that possible? That's not fair." He would have went on, but the Doctor started to move, just enough to drive Fitz mad. The angle wasn't the most forgiving and Fitz tried to help, curling his hands around the Doctor's hips.
The Doctor planted his hands on Fitz's chest, lifting himself up with the extra leverage, then sliding back down, all the way. "You," he gasped, "talk entirely too much, Fitz." And like he was trying to keep Fitz from letting anything out but strained groans and the Doctor's name, he rocked himself back and forth. That worked, and they both went quiet, focused on chasing the fleeting, sharp pleasure.
It quickly turned frantic, Fitz's hips trying to meet the Doctor's every thrust, the Doctor's hands pressing hard against Fitz as he tried to find the best way to hold himself up, both making undignified groaning sounds. It was way too hot, the alien liquor inside, the Doctor out, skin warming up from all the exertion. It couldn't have been easy to be missing your heart and move like that.
Fitz sat up as much as he could and caught his lips. The Doctor stilled for just a moment, dazed, then clutched at Fitz's shoulders and continued riding him, kisses lazy and uncoordinated, all his focus on the movement of his hips. They were tangled together, so very close, crushed together. The Doctor just writhed on Fitz's cock, pressing their foreheads together, his breathing fast and punctuated with desperate little noises against Fitz's mouth.
It was amazing to watch the Doctor like that, stripped of his prevailing calm. Fitz wasn't much more coherent, but he could see how close he was. He knew he'd likely never get to see the Doctor in such a state again. It was nothing but a shame, because it was a look he could get used to, intimate and vulnerable.
Fitz put his hand along the Doctor's face, murmuring, "Got you. I've got you, okay?" He took the Doctor's cock in hand and stroked, squeezing with every rocking motion into his lap. "Let go, I've got you..."
The Doctor's head fell back and he cried out, his rhythm falling apart as his orgasm hit him. His body tensed all together, arms around Fitz tight, back arched. Fitz shouted hoarsely, head against the Doctor's neck as he tipped over the edge with him, clutching him close as he came, dizzy from the force of it.
The Doctor slowly bent forward again and slumped on Fitz, head on his shoulder, quiet. Fitz wasn't about to break the silence, both because he was afraid of what the next words between them would be and because he wasn't feeling too eloquent at the moment.
Across the room, there was a grinding sound as the door slid open. "Oh, excellent," the Doctor said softly. "If that hadn't worked, I'd have felt very foolish."
Fitz chuckled and kissed the top of his head affectionately. "I'd assume this was all a big scam to get me into bed."
"Oh, you've learned of my devilish scheme." The Doctor shifted against Fitz, then added in a perturbed tone, "This is a bit uncomfortable now."
"Yeah, hold on." Moving languidly, they separated, sated and a bit sticky from everything. Fitz remembered the water basin off to the side and they both used it to clean up a bit in a silence that was hovering between awkward and companionable.
Fitz wandered back to the cushions and let himself fall on across them bonelessly, sprawled loose-limbed over most of them. "I am going to be so bloody hungover when I wake up."
The Doctor touched the skin just above his knee. Fitz lifted his head reluctantly and looked back at him. "You don't want to go back to the TARDIS?"
"Is that door going to close again?"
"I don't believe so."
"Are we in any rush?"
"Not particularly."
Fitz lay his head back down. "I need a nap."
"All right..." There was the sound of the Doctor's bare feet padding along the floor before he crawled onto the pillows as well, a silk sheet in one hand. "In case someone walks by," he explained faintly, draping the fabric over Fitz, then lying next to him.
Fitz turned, watching the Doctor gingerly situate himself. His face pinched into a wince as tried to lay on his back, and he wisely rolled onto his side as well. "You okay?"
"I'll be fine, Fitz." He smiled gratefully and grabbed a pillow, pulling it under his head. "Do you mind if I...?"
"No, not at all," Fitz replied, spreading the sheet over him too before relaxing. He laid his head on his folded arms, one eye open and watching the Doctor rest until sleep claimed him.
Some time later, Fitz came out of his sleep, awareness coming slowly. It brought with it a mildly buzzed feeling and his arm slung around the Doctor's waist comfortably. The Doctor was asleep, and it almost seemed like an unnatural state for him. He couldn't avoid staring, taking in the peaceful set to his face, the flickering of his eyelids, the way his hair was mussed from sleep. The Doctor had bedhead. That was the most alien thing about him for some reason.
He'd blame the lingering inebriation. He'd blame the fact he just woke up and wasn't thinking straight. Fitz would think up a hundred excuses afterward. For now, he needed to touch the Doctor, brush his fingertips over his smooth brow and down the side of his face. He had to be sure he was real.
The Doctor's eyes slid open, drowsily darting to Fitz's hand on his face, then locking to Fitz's eyes. He didn't ask, just waiting for Fitz to do something.
What Fitz did was push himself up, lean over the Doctor, and grab a filled bottle next to their bed. Holding the Doctor's gaze, he took a long drink.
Fitz barely had time to set the half-filled bottle aside before the Doctor pulled him down and kissed him.
It all spiraled out of control from there.
"Oh my god," Anji gasped. "What happened?"
Fitz flinched and put a finger to his lips, head throbbing. The Doctor, who looked more wrecked than Fitz could have imagined him, grabbed Fitz's shoulder and stopped him from walking into a tree. They were both rather unsteady on their feet and the Doctor might have been limping slightly.
"Oh, this and that," the Doctor said airily.
"I need a nap," Fitz mumbled.
"Another one?"
"Yes."
Anji shook her head at them. "What... how did you..." She blinked, peering hard at the Doctor. "Tell me that's not a hickey."
"It's not a hickey," the Doctor replied dutifully, rubbing his face wearily.
She gave them a severe, measuring look. "So, while you two were off exploring, I introduced the Fyvans to capitalism."
"That's nice, Anji."
Her frown deepened. "And they were so thrilled, they made me empress."
"Very clever of them," the Doctor murmured as he shuffled along.
"So I declared war on the rest of the planet. They're mostly dead now."
"Mmhm..."
She rolled her eyes. "You are not listening to a word I say."
"Whatever, Anj. We're sorry about leaving you, but it's bedtime, now," Fitz grumbled, opening the TARDIS and holding it open for the other two.
As she passed him, she gave him a withering stare. "You two are impossible."
"Uh huh." Fitz yawned widely. "I may sleep for a week."
"That would be such a shame." The Doctor smiled at him as he entered the TARDIS. Fitz spotted a bottle tucked inside his coat pocket, and grinned back.
Sorry. Kinda. Not really. 83
-Lucy