FIC: A Brief Lecture on the Appeal of Constants (1/1)
Spontaneous ficlet time!
Title: A Brief Lecture on the Appeal of Constants
Author: wired_lizard
Pairing: Master/Doctor/Jack
Rating: Er, PG-13? Sex talk, no sex.
Warning: D/s, hints of S&M.
Summary: Jack tries to get the Doctor reconciled with his ex. The ex in question does math porn. The Doctor wibbles.
Canon: Takes place in that slashfic la-la land outside of actual continuity; character spoilers for Utopia and Sound of Drums.
Disclaimer: they are not mine
X-posted: dwfiction, dw_slash, galactic_conman
*
"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, sounding 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 a few regenerations back. 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 adds, voice taut.
"--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 prowl 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 in the back right corner of our brains," and I wave my fingers behind my ear, "every time we look at him. He's a brand spanking new universal constant!" I laugh, all cheer, at my own double entendre as the Doctor squirms. "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, even if he doesn't know how much it makes me want to kiss him bloody. "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 fingers 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 as he slips slowly to the edge, probably over it now, sinking into some dark place where he's nothing but our toy.
I lean over, kiss my Doctor so very lightly, with Jack burning hot with vulnerable 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."