(no subject)
Title: Of Bad Ideas and Sonic Screwdrivers
Author: waqaychay
Pairing: Nine/Ten, mentions of Doctor/Rose and very brief mention of Doctor/Rose/Jack
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Who can comfort the Doctor better than the Doctor?
Spoilers: Slight spoilers for the end of series 2.
Disclaimer: The Doctor is not mine, neither is Doctor Who, obviously.
A/N: And now we come to my favorite fic this year. This was written for my twin, my love, myself, theempress14, who always has the best ideas. ;D This was my first attempt at writing the Doctor. Let me just say, that if it's your first time, don't start with two Doctors. *lol* But I'm pleased that she liked the fic, despite my short-comings in dw fic.
It was a bad idea, of course. The Doctor knew that. He just couldn't help himself. It was too tempting, and the Doctor had never been good at resisting temptation.
The TARDIS landed, and the Doctor stared at the door, trying to talk himself out of it. It was no good. He picked up his trench coat, put it on, and headed outside.
The first thing that hit him was the music. It was loud and cacophonous, typical of 47th century Earth. The lights in the small club were bright, pastel and erratic, and the bodies on the dance floor were nearly nude and writhing to the arrhythmic beat. The Doctor left the TARDIS in the corner, unnoticed, and headed to the bar.
There was one only figure sitting at the bar, a bottle of something red and noxious-looking in front of him. The black leather jacket would have been a dead giveaway, even if The Doctor hadn't felt his presence in his head the second the TARDIS doors opened. He sat down next to the man and grabbed his bottle.
"Oi. Get your own," the man in black leather snapped.
"Technically, it is my own," the Doctor said with a smirk.
"And, technically, you've already drunk it. Now it's my turn." The Doctor in the black jacket took the bottle back and took a long swig before wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "So which are you? Ten, Eleven, or Twelve?"
"Does it matter?"
"Just seems to me you have me at a disadvantage. You know I'm Nine, after all. You also know how I die, apparently. Like to know that, I would. It'd give me something to look forward to."
The Doctor frowned at that, remembering how it had felt, wishing for death but being too afraid of it to bring it about by his own hands. He remembered sitting at a number of bars like this one, drowning the guilt and horror in enough alcohol to kill a dozen Time Lords. If there had been a dozen Time Lords left. He propped his elbows on the bar and leaned his cheek on one hand. "It gets better, you know. In a couple days' time, you'll meet a girl and things will get better." Until she's gone and you're back to wanting to drown yourself in a bottle, he added in his head.
Nine glared at him and took another gulp of the red liquor. "I don't think a bit of skirt is gonna make me forget."
"How about a bit of cock, then?" Once again, Nine glared at him. The Doctor wished for a moment that he'd been able to keep that icy, Oncoming Storm Glare of Deathä in this regeneration. Dead useful in a pinch, it was, but this face was much better suited for smiling and laughing. At least, it had been with Rose by his side.... The Doctor shook off that thought and gave Nine a heated look. "I hear masturbation is good for the mood, you know. Picks you right up."
Blinking at him a little blearily, Nine looked at him for a moment. Finally, he broke into a grin. "Buy me a drink first," he said.
The Doctor couldn't help it. He broke into a laugh, remembering the last time he'd said that to someone. Jack had called him hard work, and he was right. But he really was worth it. "All right." He called over the barkeep with a wave. "Two sonic screwdrivers, please." The barkeep gave him a blank look. He sighed. "Coconut rum, triple sec, peach snhops, blue curacao and a bit of lime juice." In a moment, two martini glasses full of bright blue alcohol were set before them. The Doctor picked his up and saluted Nine with it. "To my health."
Nine picked his up and knocked it gently against the Doctor's before throwing the whole thing back in one gulp. He twirled his empty hand in the air as he grimaced against the burn in his throat, and the barkeep set them up with another round. Picking up his second glass, Nine smirked at the Doctor. "We gonna drink?" he asked. "Or do I lose my manhood, too, in my old age, as well as my good skin tone?"
Laughing, the Doctor downed his first sonic screwdriver then his second, with hardly a breath between them. Nine shouted in encouragement and drank his second, as well. "Fantastic!" he cried and slammed the empty glass down. "Bartender! Another round for me and my future self!"
Five rounds later, the Doctor was starting to feel sick and Nine didn't look much better off. "No, you see, the thing about Rose was she was perfect. Well, not perfect. Almost destroyed the world once by touching herself when I told her not to. Always touching things, Rose. She was very... touchy."
Nine snorted into his sonic screwdriver. "I bet she was, mate. Will be. Whatever."
"Not like that! Well, like that, too, I suppose." He took another sip of his drink. "I wish I could be you again, just to see her one more time."
"I don't want to hear it," Nine said, waving his hands in front of his rather prominent ears. "Don't tell me! Timeline... continuum... spoiler... bad," he finished with a glare.
The Doctor laughed. "Don't worry. I don't remember this little rendezvous at all. I suspect it's because we drink ourself into oblivion. You'll wake up in the morning in the TARDIS, with a sore head, sore arse, and oddly enough, feathers in your hair. No memory of me at all."
"So it doesn't matter if you tell me which one you are, then, does it?"
"You got me there." The Doctor took another sip, then cleared his throat. "I'm Ten."
Nine closed his eyes briefly then slammed back another sonic screwdriver. "When?" he asked through the burn.
"A year. Maybe a little more. Though it will feel like a lifetime."
"Because of the girl?"
"The best girl."
"And you've lost this paragon of companions and have come looking for a bit of self-comfort, eh?"
"Wouldn't be the first time."
Nine snorted. "Five doesn't count. I was too pretty for my own good then. How could I not want to fuck my brains out?"
"Impossible not to. I agree."
"Of course you do."
"So, your TARDIS or mine?"
Sipping at yet another sonic screwdriver, Nine shrugged. "Mine's out back."
Ten jerked his head to their left. "Mine's in the corner. Much closer." They made it there in under 30 seconds.
The TARDIS was clearly trying to be helpful. When the Doctors stumbled through the door, they found the console room littered with plush blankets, cushions, and fluffy pillows. "Fantastic!" they said together then broke into giggles. Wasting no more time, Ten turned to Nine and jumped at him, aiming for his mouth. He missed by nearly an inch, lips smacking against Nine's nose.
"Oi!" Nine cried, grabbing Ten by the shoulders and steadying them both. "Watch it!"
"Well, if that thing didn't take up half your face...."
"You can talk. That hair is practically a sentient being. Don't you ever cut it?"
"You're just jealous because I have hair now."
"It'll be mine soon enough. And I plan on taming it as soon as possible. You make me look like a lunatic!"
"That's enough arguing with ourself for the evening, don't you think?" Ten asked and shoved Nine to the cushioned floor.
"Ow!" Nine yelled as his arse made contact with the metal grating, which wasn't quite cushioned enough. "My arse!"
"Damn," Ten said with a frown. "I was hoping the sore arse meant I got to top."
"Not bloody likely," Nine growled and swept Ten's legs out from under him.
Ten fell on top of his former self in an ungainly heap. "Ah!" he cried then moaned when Nine rolled him onto his back and laid on top of him. "I used to be a dirty cheat, apparently," he complained with a smile.
"Shut it." And then Ten couldn't talk any more even if he wanted to because Nine's tongue was in the way.
As they kissed, clothes started to fly. The black leather jacket was quickly followed by a brown trench coat, which was followed by a jumper and suit coat. Nine and Ten rolled on the floor together, struggling with the various pieces of fabric as they nipped, licked, and sucked at each other's mouth. When Ten's hands fumbled at the fly of Nine's denims, Nine called for a halt. "Wait, wait!"
Ten didn't stop fumbling. "What? What is it?" he asked around a mouthful of Nine's neck.
"I'll do this. Get those fucking clothes off," Nine grumbled and yanked on Ten's suit trousers. He rolled away to divest himself of his own boots and jeans. Ten hurried to shuck the last of his clothing, too.
Once naked, they rolled together again, Nine pulling Ten under him. They ground together urgently, cocks rubbing side by side. "I see I didn't lose my manhood, after all," Nine gasped out between thrusts. He cupped Ten's dick in his palm and squeezed it against his own cock.
Ten let out a breathless chuckle. "Nope. Still ten inches. Ten for Ten. Wanna feel them?" He pressed up into Nine's groin.
Ducking down to nip at Ten's jaw, Nine growled softly. "Not on our life. Nine has ten, too, if you care to remember. And I'm in the mood to fuck." To illustrate his point, he wrapped one of Ten's legs around his waist and thrust hard into the cup of his hips. "That arse of yours is mine."
Ten smirked. "In more ways than one."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Where's the lube?"
Nine sat up on his knees, and pulling over his discarded trench coat, Ten rummaged in the pockets until he came up with a small white tube. It was plucked from his hand by long fingers and hastily opened. Groaning at the cold of the gel, Nine squirted some onto his cock and smoothed it over his skin. He shut his eyes to better feel his hand stroking himself, but opened them again when he felt a tongue run over his left nipple. "Ah, yes," he sighed in pleasure. "Harder. Bite it."
"Don't be impatient," Ten responded. "I'm getting there."
"I'm there already." With a manic grin, Nine shoved Ten back onto the pillows and nudged his legs wider apart with his knees. He fisted himself a few times as he looked down on himself, writhing slightly with need, then used his slick hand to push two fingers into Ten's arse.
"Oh, holy...!" Ten trailed off, squeezing tight around Nine's fingers. "Missed this," he panted as he pushed back into the strokes into his. "Haven't been fucked in ages. Not since Jack."
"Jack?"
Ten grinned. "Oh, you'll like Jack. So will Rose, actually. In fact, you'll all like each other quite a lot."
Snorting, Nine shook his head in disbelief. "I'm starting to think I get fucked to death. Is that how I regenerate?"
A sudden hard jab to his prostate had Ten throwing his head back and howling. When he could talk again, he said, "Nope, but that wouldn't be a bad way to go. Let's try it." And he pulled Nine down on top of him. The slick cock pushed into him in one hard lunge, and Ten found himself thrashing his head back and forth and biting his lip to keep from screaming. His hands clutched at Nine's shoulders, and he vaguely remembered claw marks on his back to go with the sore knees and arse he remembered from so long ago. Or from right now, depending on how you looked at it. "Oh, yes, that's it! That's... fantastic," they both finished together, then gasped as Nine began to fuck. Wrapping his legs around Nine's waist, Ten held on for dear life as he was thoroughly pounded into the floor.
It was good, of course. Who knew his body better than himself, after all? A lot of things changed from regeneration to regeneration, but some things were constant. Like how he loved having his earlobe bitten during sex. Ten sighed in absolute bliss when Nine obliged him with teeth on that tender bit of skin, and he reached down to squeeze Nine's arse in his hands, another favorite erogenous zone. But....
But Ten needed more. Nine wasn't the only one with excess aggression and frustration to burn off, after all. He unwound his legs despite Nine's growl of protest and pushed off the floor, rolling them both until he was straddling Nine's waist. Before their positions could be reversed again, Ten planted his hands in the cushion on either side of Nine's head and began to ride.
"Ah, fuck!" Nine yelled. His back arched off the cushions as he thrust upward, going deeper into Ten than he'd been able to before. "Gorgeous." His hands clutched at Ten's thighs and the muscles that bulged there with every rise and fall.
"Yes! Oh, that's so... oh!" Ten lost his train of thought when one of Nine's hands wrapped around his bouncing cock and began to stroke in the same rhythm he was using. He angled his hips just a fraction until he could fuck into the grip and still hit his prostate every time he pushed down on Nine's ten. His grip on the soft fabric beneath them tightened.
The tingle that signaled impending climax started in Ten's balls, and he rode harder, faster. "Soon," he warned himself. "Gonna come."
"Fuck! Yes, do it!" Nine yelled. He reached between them with his free hand and rolled Ten's balls in his palm. "Come on, come on!"
Throwing his head back, Ten let the sensations roll over him. With a last hard thrust that ended with a spectacular jab to his prostate, he came, yelling obscenities in his native language and spouting come onto Nine's chest. His hands spasmed and the sound of ripping cloth mingled with his shouts of ecstasy. Without another word, Nine bucked up into him hard and came, as well.
The TARDIS was eerily quiet in the aftermath. The only sounds were their harsh breathing and the squelch of their bodies as Ten continued to ride slowly and gently against Nine's deflating cock. When Nine couldn't take the over stimulation anymore, he stilled Ten with his hands on his hips. "Enough," he panted.
"Okay," Ten gasped. "Just let me...." He rose onto his shaky knees, letting Nine fall from his body, then fell onto his side next to his previous self. Together, they lay there regaining their breath until Ten began to laugh.
"And what's so funny?" Nine groused good-naturedly.
"I ripped the cushion in two when I came. You have feathers in your hair."
Nine shrugged one shoulder. "They had to come from somewhere, didn't they?" He shut his eyes and yawned.
"Hey, don't fall asleep. You've gotta go back to your own TARDIS." Despite his words, he couldn't suppress his own jaw-cracking yawn.
"In a minute. Just let me close my eyes for a bit."
Ten knew that was a bad idea. After the sex and all the alcohol, they'd likely end up falling asleep there on the floor if they didn't get up now, and it would disrupt the timeline if Nine awoke and Ten was still next to him, passed out and debauched. He'd have to get Nine up and dressed and in his own TARDIS before that happened.
But he couldn't help himself. He pulled a blanket over the two of him and closed his eyes. A quick nap sounded too tempting, and, after all, the Doctor had never been good at resisting temptation.
Author: waqaychay
Pairing: Nine/Ten, mentions of Doctor/Rose and very brief mention of Doctor/Rose/Jack
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Who can comfort the Doctor better than the Doctor?
Spoilers: Slight spoilers for the end of series 2.
Disclaimer: The Doctor is not mine, neither is Doctor Who, obviously.
A/N: And now we come to my favorite fic this year. This was written for my twin, my love, myself, theempress14, who always has the best ideas. ;D This was my first attempt at writing the Doctor. Let me just say, that if it's your first time, don't start with two Doctors. *lol* But I'm pleased that she liked the fic, despite my short-comings in dw fic.
It was a bad idea, of course. The Doctor knew that. He just couldn't help himself. It was too tempting, and the Doctor had never been good at resisting temptation.
The TARDIS landed, and the Doctor stared at the door, trying to talk himself out of it. It was no good. He picked up his trench coat, put it on, and headed outside.
The first thing that hit him was the music. It was loud and cacophonous, typical of 47th century Earth. The lights in the small club were bright, pastel and erratic, and the bodies on the dance floor were nearly nude and writhing to the arrhythmic beat. The Doctor left the TARDIS in the corner, unnoticed, and headed to the bar.
There was one only figure sitting at the bar, a bottle of something red and noxious-looking in front of him. The black leather jacket would have been a dead giveaway, even if The Doctor hadn't felt his presence in his head the second the TARDIS doors opened. He sat down next to the man and grabbed his bottle.
"Oi. Get your own," the man in black leather snapped.
"Technically, it is my own," the Doctor said with a smirk.
"And, technically, you've already drunk it. Now it's my turn." The Doctor in the black jacket took the bottle back and took a long swig before wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "So which are you? Ten, Eleven, or Twelve?"
"Does it matter?"
"Just seems to me you have me at a disadvantage. You know I'm Nine, after all. You also know how I die, apparently. Like to know that, I would. It'd give me something to look forward to."
The Doctor frowned at that, remembering how it had felt, wishing for death but being too afraid of it to bring it about by his own hands. He remembered sitting at a number of bars like this one, drowning the guilt and horror in enough alcohol to kill a dozen Time Lords. If there had been a dozen Time Lords left. He propped his elbows on the bar and leaned his cheek on one hand. "It gets better, you know. In a couple days' time, you'll meet a girl and things will get better." Until she's gone and you're back to wanting to drown yourself in a bottle, he added in his head.
Nine glared at him and took another gulp of the red liquor. "I don't think a bit of skirt is gonna make me forget."
"How about a bit of cock, then?" Once again, Nine glared at him. The Doctor wished for a moment that he'd been able to keep that icy, Oncoming Storm Glare of Deathä in this regeneration. Dead useful in a pinch, it was, but this face was much better suited for smiling and laughing. At least, it had been with Rose by his side.... The Doctor shook off that thought and gave Nine a heated look. "I hear masturbation is good for the mood, you know. Picks you right up."
Blinking at him a little blearily, Nine looked at him for a moment. Finally, he broke into a grin. "Buy me a drink first," he said.
The Doctor couldn't help it. He broke into a laugh, remembering the last time he'd said that to someone. Jack had called him hard work, and he was right. But he really was worth it. "All right." He called over the barkeep with a wave. "Two sonic screwdrivers, please." The barkeep gave him a blank look. He sighed. "Coconut rum, triple sec, peach snhops, blue curacao and a bit of lime juice." In a moment, two martini glasses full of bright blue alcohol were set before them. The Doctor picked his up and saluted Nine with it. "To my health."
Nine picked his up and knocked it gently against the Doctor's before throwing the whole thing back in one gulp. He twirled his empty hand in the air as he grimaced against the burn in his throat, and the barkeep set them up with another round. Picking up his second glass, Nine smirked at the Doctor. "We gonna drink?" he asked. "Or do I lose my manhood, too, in my old age, as well as my good skin tone?"
Laughing, the Doctor downed his first sonic screwdriver then his second, with hardly a breath between them. Nine shouted in encouragement and drank his second, as well. "Fantastic!" he cried and slammed the empty glass down. "Bartender! Another round for me and my future self!"
Five rounds later, the Doctor was starting to feel sick and Nine didn't look much better off. "No, you see, the thing about Rose was she was perfect. Well, not perfect. Almost destroyed the world once by touching herself when I told her not to. Always touching things, Rose. She was very... touchy."
Nine snorted into his sonic screwdriver. "I bet she was, mate. Will be. Whatever."
"Not like that! Well, like that, too, I suppose." He took another sip of his drink. "I wish I could be you again, just to see her one more time."
"I don't want to hear it," Nine said, waving his hands in front of his rather prominent ears. "Don't tell me! Timeline... continuum... spoiler... bad," he finished with a glare.
The Doctor laughed. "Don't worry. I don't remember this little rendezvous at all. I suspect it's because we drink ourself into oblivion. You'll wake up in the morning in the TARDIS, with a sore head, sore arse, and oddly enough, feathers in your hair. No memory of me at all."
"So it doesn't matter if you tell me which one you are, then, does it?"
"You got me there." The Doctor took another sip, then cleared his throat. "I'm Ten."
Nine closed his eyes briefly then slammed back another sonic screwdriver. "When?" he asked through the burn.
"A year. Maybe a little more. Though it will feel like a lifetime."
"Because of the girl?"
"The best girl."
"And you've lost this paragon of companions and have come looking for a bit of self-comfort, eh?"
"Wouldn't be the first time."
Nine snorted. "Five doesn't count. I was too pretty for my own good then. How could I not want to fuck my brains out?"
"Impossible not to. I agree."
"Of course you do."
"So, your TARDIS or mine?"
Sipping at yet another sonic screwdriver, Nine shrugged. "Mine's out back."
Ten jerked his head to their left. "Mine's in the corner. Much closer." They made it there in under 30 seconds.
The TARDIS was clearly trying to be helpful. When the Doctors stumbled through the door, they found the console room littered with plush blankets, cushions, and fluffy pillows. "Fantastic!" they said together then broke into giggles. Wasting no more time, Ten turned to Nine and jumped at him, aiming for his mouth. He missed by nearly an inch, lips smacking against Nine's nose.
"Oi!" Nine cried, grabbing Ten by the shoulders and steadying them both. "Watch it!"
"Well, if that thing didn't take up half your face...."
"You can talk. That hair is practically a sentient being. Don't you ever cut it?"
"You're just jealous because I have hair now."
"It'll be mine soon enough. And I plan on taming it as soon as possible. You make me look like a lunatic!"
"That's enough arguing with ourself for the evening, don't you think?" Ten asked and shoved Nine to the cushioned floor.
"Ow!" Nine yelled as his arse made contact with the metal grating, which wasn't quite cushioned enough. "My arse!"
"Damn," Ten said with a frown. "I was hoping the sore arse meant I got to top."
"Not bloody likely," Nine growled and swept Ten's legs out from under him.
Ten fell on top of his former self in an ungainly heap. "Ah!" he cried then moaned when Nine rolled him onto his back and laid on top of him. "I used to be a dirty cheat, apparently," he complained with a smile.
"Shut it." And then Ten couldn't talk any more even if he wanted to because Nine's tongue was in the way.
As they kissed, clothes started to fly. The black leather jacket was quickly followed by a brown trench coat, which was followed by a jumper and suit coat. Nine and Ten rolled on the floor together, struggling with the various pieces of fabric as they nipped, licked, and sucked at each other's mouth. When Ten's hands fumbled at the fly of Nine's denims, Nine called for a halt. "Wait, wait!"
Ten didn't stop fumbling. "What? What is it?" he asked around a mouthful of Nine's neck.
"I'll do this. Get those fucking clothes off," Nine grumbled and yanked on Ten's suit trousers. He rolled away to divest himself of his own boots and jeans. Ten hurried to shuck the last of his clothing, too.
Once naked, they rolled together again, Nine pulling Ten under him. They ground together urgently, cocks rubbing side by side. "I see I didn't lose my manhood, after all," Nine gasped out between thrusts. He cupped Ten's dick in his palm and squeezed it against his own cock.
Ten let out a breathless chuckle. "Nope. Still ten inches. Ten for Ten. Wanna feel them?" He pressed up into Nine's groin.
Ducking down to nip at Ten's jaw, Nine growled softly. "Not on our life. Nine has ten, too, if you care to remember. And I'm in the mood to fuck." To illustrate his point, he wrapped one of Ten's legs around his waist and thrust hard into the cup of his hips. "That arse of yours is mine."
Ten smirked. "In more ways than one."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Where's the lube?"
Nine sat up on his knees, and pulling over his discarded trench coat, Ten rummaged in the pockets until he came up with a small white tube. It was plucked from his hand by long fingers and hastily opened. Groaning at the cold of the gel, Nine squirted some onto his cock and smoothed it over his skin. He shut his eyes to better feel his hand stroking himself, but opened them again when he felt a tongue run over his left nipple. "Ah, yes," he sighed in pleasure. "Harder. Bite it."
"Don't be impatient," Ten responded. "I'm getting there."
"I'm there already." With a manic grin, Nine shoved Ten back onto the pillows and nudged his legs wider apart with his knees. He fisted himself a few times as he looked down on himself, writhing slightly with need, then used his slick hand to push two fingers into Ten's arse.
"Oh, holy...!" Ten trailed off, squeezing tight around Nine's fingers. "Missed this," he panted as he pushed back into the strokes into his. "Haven't been fucked in ages. Not since Jack."
"Jack?"
Ten grinned. "Oh, you'll like Jack. So will Rose, actually. In fact, you'll all like each other quite a lot."
Snorting, Nine shook his head in disbelief. "I'm starting to think I get fucked to death. Is that how I regenerate?"
A sudden hard jab to his prostate had Ten throwing his head back and howling. When he could talk again, he said, "Nope, but that wouldn't be a bad way to go. Let's try it." And he pulled Nine down on top of him. The slick cock pushed into him in one hard lunge, and Ten found himself thrashing his head back and forth and biting his lip to keep from screaming. His hands clutched at Nine's shoulders, and he vaguely remembered claw marks on his back to go with the sore knees and arse he remembered from so long ago. Or from right now, depending on how you looked at it. "Oh, yes, that's it! That's... fantastic," they both finished together, then gasped as Nine began to fuck. Wrapping his legs around Nine's waist, Ten held on for dear life as he was thoroughly pounded into the floor.
It was good, of course. Who knew his body better than himself, after all? A lot of things changed from regeneration to regeneration, but some things were constant. Like how he loved having his earlobe bitten during sex. Ten sighed in absolute bliss when Nine obliged him with teeth on that tender bit of skin, and he reached down to squeeze Nine's arse in his hands, another favorite erogenous zone. But....
But Ten needed more. Nine wasn't the only one with excess aggression and frustration to burn off, after all. He unwound his legs despite Nine's growl of protest and pushed off the floor, rolling them both until he was straddling Nine's waist. Before their positions could be reversed again, Ten planted his hands in the cushion on either side of Nine's head and began to ride.
"Ah, fuck!" Nine yelled. His back arched off the cushions as he thrust upward, going deeper into Ten than he'd been able to before. "Gorgeous." His hands clutched at Ten's thighs and the muscles that bulged there with every rise and fall.
"Yes! Oh, that's so... oh!" Ten lost his train of thought when one of Nine's hands wrapped around his bouncing cock and began to stroke in the same rhythm he was using. He angled his hips just a fraction until he could fuck into the grip and still hit his prostate every time he pushed down on Nine's ten. His grip on the soft fabric beneath them tightened.
The tingle that signaled impending climax started in Ten's balls, and he rode harder, faster. "Soon," he warned himself. "Gonna come."
"Fuck! Yes, do it!" Nine yelled. He reached between them with his free hand and rolled Ten's balls in his palm. "Come on, come on!"
Throwing his head back, Ten let the sensations roll over him. With a last hard thrust that ended with a spectacular jab to his prostate, he came, yelling obscenities in his native language and spouting come onto Nine's chest. His hands spasmed and the sound of ripping cloth mingled with his shouts of ecstasy. Without another word, Nine bucked up into him hard and came, as well.
The TARDIS was eerily quiet in the aftermath. The only sounds were their harsh breathing and the squelch of their bodies as Ten continued to ride slowly and gently against Nine's deflating cock. When Nine couldn't take the over stimulation anymore, he stilled Ten with his hands on his hips. "Enough," he panted.
"Okay," Ten gasped. "Just let me...." He rose onto his shaky knees, letting Nine fall from his body, then fell onto his side next to his previous self. Together, they lay there regaining their breath until Ten began to laugh.
"And what's so funny?" Nine groused good-naturedly.
"I ripped the cushion in two when I came. You have feathers in your hair."
Nine shrugged one shoulder. "They had to come from somewhere, didn't they?" He shut his eyes and yawned.
"Hey, don't fall asleep. You've gotta go back to your own TARDIS." Despite his words, he couldn't suppress his own jaw-cracking yawn.
"In a minute. Just let me close my eyes for a bit."
Ten knew that was a bad idea. After the sex and all the alcohol, they'd likely end up falling asleep there on the floor if they didn't get up now, and it would disrupt the timeline if Nine awoke and Ten was still next to him, passed out and debauched. He'd have to get Nine up and dressed and in his own TARDIS before that happened.
But he couldn't help himself. He pulled a blanket over the two of him and closed his eyes. A quick nap sounded too tempting, and, after all, the Doctor had never been good at resisting temptation.