[pre]porn w/o plot
Or canon reference. Or much of anything except throwing three characters in a room together and seeing what happens. No particular spoilers for Utopia/Sound of Drums other than a particular character's existence. I don't normally write outside of canon, but I needed to get this out of my system, as the last few eps have been killing me with the kinky subtext.
The Jack in my head is quite insistent that this whole mess going on between his Doctor and Mr. Spoiler is clearly one big screwy love-hate psycho-ex thing, and has set himself on getting them to shag-and-get-it-over-with-already. (And I write to indulge him due to random insomnia.) And being Jack, if throwing himself into said shagging will help either party...
...why is this character insisting upon first person? Aiiii! Haven't done in ages!
"Do whatever you want with me," this funny little immortal human had said, so solemn. "Either of you. Whatever you need. Long as you work it out."
"You can't just," the Doctor starts, mortified. "You can't just throw yourself out as a punching bag--"
"Whyever not?" I ask lightly, in unison with Jack.
"But he's..." My Doctor is glaring at me now, petulant as always, though I can see that sharp, angry edge to him that wasn't there before. Glaring at me in his shirtsleeves, tie and top button of his shirt undone from when I'd wanted to get my fingers at that expressive new throat, with his faithful Jack crouching, still dressed, at his feet.
"Wrong?" Jack asks dryly, with an edge. The Doctor's mistake not to take that pet in when he's begging at his door, even if he is human.
"What," I ask my Doctor, laughing, "that puts you off?"
He sputters. "Well--"
"Your little friend Rose--"
"Don't start," my Doctor says darkly, flare of anger in those adorable new eyes.
"Not on her," Jack says tautly.
"--your little friend Rose looked into the Vortex itself from her little human mind and wanted it to bring back her dead..." I cock my head to the side, look Jack up at down. "Boyfriend, I'm guessing?"
The boys grit teeth. I smile brightly in encouragement--well, of sorts--and pace towards them.
"So she reaches out," and I peer into my Doctor's face, "and rewrites every corner of time and space. Changes the fabric of the universe to include the statement that this man must live. That's what's itching back right corner of our brains," and I wave my fingers behind my ear, "every time we look at him. He is a brand spanking new universal constant! Certainly not one we learned in grade school."
"I know," my Doctor says grimly.
"I mean, there would have been better ways to do it--more efficient, more accurate, not the firehose solution. Probably even without the, ah," and I look down at Jack now with cheerful, entirely forced, sympathy, "unfortunate side effect." He's looking up at me with a sort of edgy burn I know so well from my Doctor. This close to giving himself over, hesitating out of fear or resentment or Time only knows what else. "But a human mind probably couldn't imagine them. So she rewrote the universe." I ruffle his hair, very sweet. "For you."
"But," says my Doctor, with a sort of pout he just has to be doing on purpose. "I don't like it when my brain itches."
"Ohhh, you don't get it yet, do you? He's a constant, he's a fact. He's an object," and I run my tongue over the corner of my mouth, "in space, immutable. We're Time Lords. We've mastered the universe with numbers, and even we can't change the constants. But..." I reach down, slide fingers through Jack's short hair, tug his head up, and his breath catches a little, which makes me look at him. Straight into wide blue eyes. "You can't fuck pi," I say, conversationally, and tighten my grip. "You can't make K and e scream and bleed."
I savor the look on that pretty face. That much closer to the edge. Oh, he'll be beautiful when he falls, when he's mine. And I look up at my Doctor, his face gone a little blank, eyes like space with all the stars out.
"Now you get it," I murmur, and tug Jack closer, onto his knees proper with his face against my thigh. Pet him like a dog, drum absentminded on his skull. He's keeping his arms at his sides, as if unsure whether to touch me, although I get the impression he'd like to. "Hands behind your back and keep them there," I tell him, offhanded, and a universal constant obeys me.
My Doctor just keeps looking at me, lower lip a bit slack with that look of surprise this regeneration has. His hands curl, unclench; he steps closer, wraps a hand slowly over the back of Jack's neck, and there's another catch in the human's breathing from that.
I lean over, kiss him so very lightly, with Jack burning warm with life up against my leg.
"Let's," I murmur, so close to his face that he must feel my breath warm on his skin, "command the universe, Time Lord."
The Jack in my head is quite insistent that this whole mess going on between his Doctor and Mr. Spoiler is clearly one big screwy love-hate psycho-ex thing, and has set himself on getting them to shag-and-get-it-over-with-already. (And I write to indulge him due to random insomnia.) And being Jack, if throwing himself into said shagging will help either party...
...why is this character insisting upon first person? Aiiii! Haven't done in ages!
"Do whatever you want with me," this funny little immortal human had said, so solemn. "Either of you. Whatever you need. Long as you work it out."
"You can't just," the Doctor starts, mortified. "You can't just throw yourself out as a punching bag--"
"Whyever not?" I ask lightly, in unison with Jack.
"But he's..." My Doctor is glaring at me now, petulant as always, though I can see that sharp, angry edge to him that wasn't there before. Glaring at me in his shirtsleeves, tie and top button of his shirt undone from when I'd wanted to get my fingers at that expressive new throat, with his faithful Jack crouching, still dressed, at his feet.
"Wrong?" Jack asks dryly, with an edge. The Doctor's mistake not to take that pet in when he's begging at his door, even if he is human.
"What," I ask my Doctor, laughing, "that puts you off?"
He sputters. "Well--"
"Your little friend Rose--"
"Don't start," my Doctor says darkly, flare of anger in those adorable new eyes.
"Not on her," Jack says tautly.
"--your little friend Rose looked into the Vortex itself from her little human mind and wanted it to bring back her dead..." I cock my head to the side, look Jack up at down. "Boyfriend, I'm guessing?"
The boys grit teeth. I smile brightly in encouragement--well, of sorts--and pace towards them.
"So she reaches out," and I peer into my Doctor's face, "and rewrites every corner of time and space. Changes the fabric of the universe to include the statement that this man must live. That's what's itching back right corner of our brains," and I wave my fingers behind my ear, "every time we look at him. He is a brand spanking new universal constant! Certainly not one we learned in grade school."
"I know," my Doctor says grimly.
"I mean, there would have been better ways to do it--more efficient, more accurate, not the firehose solution. Probably even without the, ah," and I look down at Jack now with cheerful, entirely forced, sympathy, "unfortunate side effect." He's looking up at me with a sort of edgy burn I know so well from my Doctor. This close to giving himself over, hesitating out of fear or resentment or Time only knows what else. "But a human mind probably couldn't imagine them. So she rewrote the universe." I ruffle his hair, very sweet. "For you."
"But," says my Doctor, with a sort of pout he just has to be doing on purpose. "I don't like it when my brain itches."
"Ohhh, you don't get it yet, do you? He's a constant, he's a fact. He's an object," and I run my tongue over the corner of my mouth, "in space, immutable. We're Time Lords. We've mastered the universe with numbers, and even we can't change the constants. But..." I reach down, slide fingers through Jack's short hair, tug his head up, and his breath catches a little, which makes me look at him. Straight into wide blue eyes. "You can't fuck pi," I say, conversationally, and tighten my grip. "You can't make K and e scream and bleed."
I savor the look on that pretty face. That much closer to the edge. Oh, he'll be beautiful when he falls, when he's mine. And I look up at my Doctor, his face gone a little blank, eyes like space with all the stars out.
"Now you get it," I murmur, and tug Jack closer, onto his knees proper with his face against my thigh. Pet him like a dog, drum absentminded on his skull. He's keeping his arms at his sides, as if unsure whether to touch me, although I get the impression he'd like to. "Hands behind your back and keep them there," I tell him, offhanded, and a universal constant obeys me.
My Doctor just keeps looking at me, lower lip a bit slack with that look of surprise this regeneration has. His hands curl, unclench; he steps closer, wraps a hand slowly over the back of Jack's neck, and there's another catch in the human's breathing from that.
I lean over, kiss him so very lightly, with Jack burning warm with life up against my leg.
"Let's," I murmur, so close to his face that he must feel my breath warm on his skin, "command the universe, Time Lord."