Fic: DW/TW Porn Battle Jack/Nine putting up shelves
He’s helping the Doctor putting up shelves. After a quick trip to Alexandria last week the Timelord’s got a new collection of books, rescued in the nick of time, and he needs some help arranging to store the five hundred or so scrolls the Doctor’s decided he has to read right now in his room. Rose was asked if she wanted to help but opted to wash her hair, so he’s alone with the man, holding things in place while the Timelord does something with his screwdriver to mount them to the wall seamlessly.
The rooms are nice, and he tries to keep his eyes from the bed. It’s low, and fairly large. Large enough to give Jack ideas, and those ideas he’s not so sure the Doctor would appreciate. So he just keeps holding the shelves in place.
The Doctor hands him another shelf. “I want this one higher. A few taller books.”
Jack just nods and holds the shelf in place. He has to lean up a little to keep both hands on the board, and he sees the Doctor pat down his pockets. “Ah, left the screwdriver over…” He wanders off, and Jack shakes his head, bemused.
He comes back, and Jack looks up at the shelf to make sure it’s against the wall straight, and the Doctor leans up behind him to affix it with the blue light of his device. They’re so close for a second that Jack’s breath catches in his throat. It’s a good thing he’s the one holding up the shelves, because the Doctor would probably interpret this as Jack having a shelf fetish. He’s oddly cool where they’re touching, arms framing Jack’s as he runs the screwdriver under its edge against the wall, and Jack’s a fairly large guy but the Doctor all but swallows him up in sheer size. It’s disconcerting, and hot.
“It’s done.” The Doctor tells him, voice husking out against Jack’s ear, and he can literally feel his brain shutting down.
The Timelord’s hands fall from the shelf, and Jack finally breaths out. His heart is racing, and he stands there a moment hoping to collect himself.
It doesn’t happen, because the Doctor grabs him by the shoulders and throws him up against the wall below the shelf. Their mouths slant together like this is predestined, and Jack clutches at the Doctor’s shoulders, feeling enfolded by leather and wiry strength. One strong hand worms between Jack’s back and the wall, smoothing down to his ass and gripping it hard. Jack moans into the kiss, runs one hand into the Doctor’s close cropped hair and pulls him close. Closer, if that’s even possible.
They kiss ravenously, devouring each other, and then the Doctor wrenches his head away to bite down the line of Jack’s throat. It’s predatory and everything Jack could want.
“Take me to bed.” Jack hisses, and feels the older man nod against his throat. But they don’t move, because the Doctor won’t lean off him, and the pressure’s so delicious Jack won’t push him away. He struggles with the clothes between them, trying to shove up the jumper so he can get to the flesh beneath. The Doctor laughs into his skin, and takes his mouth again. With a snarl Jack’s shirt rips in half, and he can already feel the Doctor’s hands at his waist. He gives up on the idea of the bed, and simply reaches for the other man’s pants, struggling with the fastening.
They both figure it out at the same time and with a groan Jack feels the other man hard against him. The Doctor’s hands fall to Jack’s ass, grasping the flesh and pulling him in hard against the Doctor’s cool skin, shifting a leg between Jack’s as much as their pants will let them.
It’s brutal, and fast. Jack comes first, gasping and sobbing into the Doctor’s shoulder, clawing at his back, and the Doctor shoves him hard against the wall with his hips. He comes groaning in a language Jack doesn’t know, and absently pets at Jack’s hair. They rest a moment, gasping hard and trading lazy kisses.
“Anything else you need help with?” Jack asks, when he can mostly breathe again.