Support Stacie Fic: Watching (3/3)
Title: Watching (3/3)
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Rose/Ten2 (all together)
Rating: Adultish for soft-focus secks, Tencest, and the f-bomb
Intrepid Beta: fid_gin
Summary: The Doctors and Rose land in Swinging London (yeah, baby!). UST-without-much-plot, occasional RST-without-much-plot, and some character study. Voyeurism, public sex, Tencest, but all of fairly mild sorts.
A/N: Hooray! This here is the fic I have written for my benefactress xebgoc , who won me in the Support Stacie Author Auction waaaay back in September. She requested a historical setting, with voyeurism and Tencest. I have endeavoured to oblige. A fic in three parts, posted Wednesday, Friday and Sunday.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Part 3
The Doctor could see them nudging each other and whispering like children as they all walked back to the TARDIS. In a way, he supposed he had fallen quite unwittingly into the role of the more sober, more responsible party in the trio of himself, his part-human duplicate, and the woman who bound them together. It hadn't been intentional at all, but on the way back home after a rollicking night at a club where the humans had had a bit too much to drink and Rose had been a bit too flirtatious in order to get those drinks purchased, he'd had a realisation.
"Blimey, I'm the husband," he sighed with a little puff of steam as his breath hit the chilly night air.
"Whas'sat?" Rose slurred from behind.
"Nothing."
He heard Rose mumble a protest, followed by the other Doctor shushing her and then making her giggle again as they reached their destination. "You two seem to have had your share of fun in 1965."
Rose collapsed on the captain's chair and began to unzip her boots immediately. "Didn't you?"
"Yeah," the Doctor said, slinging his brown coat over the usual bit of coral. "Yeah, it was brilliant. But I've already been before, loads of times. This trip was mainly for you. I thought maybe we could all use a bit of a holiday."
Rose kicked the boots off to the side and gingerly stepped over the metal floor to take his arm and give him a peck on the cheek. "It was lovely, thank you. And I wouldn't say it was all work and no play for you, either, Mister Strip Tease!"
"Oi, that's Doctor Strip Tease, thank you," he protested. "And I had to do something while you two were off..." He rubbed the back of his neck, disengaged from Rose and leaned against the console. "While you were off..."
The other Doctor moved over to stand next to Rose and they both fidgeted with their hands and shuffled their feet like guilty school children.
"Well, there it is," the Doctor said, seemingly apropos of nothing, pushing himself off the console again and propelling himself out of the room. He certainly didn't have the right to tell them where and how to have intercourse. Public intercourse. Public intercourse in a dark alley. Public intercourse in a dark alley, spontaneously devouring one another, fully clothed, with sweat and musk and tongues....
He groaned, rather loudly, taking himself by surprise. He started humming the bridge of a song they'd heard performed that night-a song he didn't even know the name of or any of the words to. It was just a sound to fill the space between his ears for a precious few seconds. He walked the circumference of his study and picked up several objects, only to put them back down again. None of this made any sense to him-not what he'd seen in the alley or the reaction it provoked, nor the flood of thoughts and chemicals that had erupted every time he so much as looked at another humanoid creature since then.
"You're upset," came a voice from the doorway: His double, blue suit jacket held over one shoulder, shoes and socks off.
The Doctor put down the box of spent fuses he'd been poking around in. "Am not."
"Hmm..." the man in blue mused. "Perturbed, then? Provoked? Prevaricating? Preseverating? Any of these words working for you?"
But the Doctor, oddly, did not feel like word games. Not one bit. "Did you want something?"
"Just to say goodnight."
"Goodnight."
"And to see if there was anything you wanted to discuss." And quite to the contrary of his stated intention of going off to have a good night, he sat down heavily on the sofa.
"Discuss?"
"Discourse? Delineate? Dia-"
"Do shut up?" the Doctor offered instead.
The other man shook his head. "No, rather not. Sort of the opposite, in fact."
"Aren't you tired yet? You humans with all your sleeping and your intoxication and your shagging-"
"Pardon me, but you sleep. And you could get pissed, if you wanted, and you certainly shag. I believe 'like a rock star' is the expression. There's no need to hold those things against us." He paused, plucked a bit of fuzz off of his t-shirt. "Please don't hold those things against us. It's been hard enough... adjusting."
"I'm not holding it... I mean, I wouldn't, but when you throw it in my face-" The Doctor frowned, realising a bit too late that the issue that he was addressing was not the same as the issue his counterpart was addressing. Quite obviously so. "Oh, bollocks."
The other man remained silent for a beat, an eyebrow pertly raised, as the TARDIS hummed around them. "Please, continue," he finally said, settling back a bit more into the sofa cushions.
"It's nothing, never mind," the Doctor mumbled, but he already knew he wasn't going to get away so easily. He certainly wouldn't let someone dig such a magnificent hole for themselves without waiting around for them to fall in.
"No, I'd like to know what it is I've seemingly thrown in your face."
~000~
Outside the door, Rose sighed in frustration, involuntarily, then hoped she hadn't been heard. She'd put the Doctor up to this, to go and see why the other had been acting... well, just off. It was subtle things, but she could tell-and with the life they lived, she'd decided that it was in no one's best interests for any secrets to be kept, or grudges to be held. They needed to trust one another completely, and if that required her to skulk about outside doors and eavesdrop, well... Never mind that. The point was, she needed to get the whole truth and not a version filtered through the Doctor's weird sense of self-preservation that extended to the other as well.
A tingle from all the lager she'd consumed still played about the tips of her fingers, but she was steady enough to remain still and quiet as she peeped in the door where it was slightly ajar. Both men were in profile to her, the human Doctor sitting on the couch, and the Time Lord, still completely buttoned up in his brown suit, standing and looking fairly miserable-as he was very good at doing.
The casually-dressed Doctor patted the sofa next to him. "Honestly, you're being ridiculous. Being cagey with your own self-only you could pull that off, I'm sure of it."
"It really is nothing," the other Doctor insisted, but his features began to soften and he shuffled slowly over to stand before his double. "It's silly. I'm silly. But, I saw you today-both of you. In the alley..."
A light of recognition washed over the other man's face, followed closely by a fierce blush. He remained silent, but his mouth formed a little "Oh."
"See? It's nothing. And I didn't even mean to... I was just looking for you to tell you I was done with the TARDIS."
"Well, it just sort of happened-we didn't plan it just to hack you off or anything," the Doctor said defensively.
From the other side of the door, Rose felt her cheeks warm with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal at the memory of their encounter.
The Doctor in brown finally took a seat next to his duplicate and they mirrored one another perfectly in the way they each draped an arm over the back of the sofa.
"I'm not hacked off. I've got no right to tell you two where to have intercourse."
Rose winced a little; she didn't know why he could never just say "sex" or "fucking" like a normal person. He could take a page from his part-human version, who was perfectly comfortable with a wide variety of euphemisms (perhaps a little too comfortable, if she was honest).
"Too right, you don't," said the other man, but there was no defiance in his voice. They weren't about to have any sort of a punch-up over this, which was what Rose had feared for a brief moment.
"It's just..."
Rose held her breath-there was always a certain stillness that would come over the TARDIS when the Doctor was about to say something important and honest.
"It's just that I'd never seen you and her... as a non-participant. Which looks much the same as me and her, of course. So, twice the weirdness."
"You saying you want to get some mirrors put in the bedroom?" the other man laughed, though it was a bit forced.
The Doctor paused in consideration, and straightened his tie. "Not until I can figure out what happened after."
The two men almost imperceptibly inched forward towards one another, and their voices got quieter. Rose had to strain to listen, even with the hum of the TARDIS suddenly being so muffled.
"What happened after?" the other Doctor asked, eyes wide. "And did you see... how much did you see?"
"Well, I'd rather not get into all the sordid details," the Doctor demurred. "But I saw her, on the crates... and you..." He trailed off and coughed uncomfortably. "You know."
"I do know."
"Give me your hand," the Doctor said, suddenly, as if he'd just arrived at an important decision, and reached towards his duplicate.
"My what?"
"Your hand." He grabbed the other man by the wrist, his large hand encircling the delicate bones. "You were holding her, really gripping her, and I couldn't decide if it was her legs or your hands, or the both together, but-" He brought the other Doctor's hand to his face and licked the pads of his fingers.
"Oh!" was all he could say to having his fingers suddenly in his counterpart's mouth.
Oh!, indeed, Rose thought. This was an interesting turn of events. She hugged the wall a little closer and shifted to get a better view.
"I can still taste it," the Doctor said, with an intensity he normally reserved for solving scientific problems involving life and death. "Not you, not her-or not just you and her. Both of you, at the same time."
"Hang about," the other Doctor said, and Rose felt a little deflated. She most certainly did not want them to hang about, she'd decided. Not at all. "Did it make you feel like your insides were all about to come out the top of your head?"
Rose wrinkled her nose. That image was a bit of a mood-killer.
The Time Lord nodded slowly, and a lazy smile began to play around the edges of the other's mouth.
"And did you just start thinking about having a go with whoever was the next to walk by? Wait, wait, wait! You were in a strip club! A strip club!" He was running a hand vigorously across his scalp, as he did when saving a species or dispatching an evil-doer. Then, suddenly, he was doing the same to the scalp of the other Doctor as well, mussing his hair.
"I was. It seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Oh, Doctor," the other Doctor sighed. "Oh, Doctor, what are we going to do with you?"
The Doctor cocked his head to the side and tugged nervously on his earlobe. "Does something need doing with me?"
"Listen to your Doctor," he said, more sedate now, almost purring. "Because I know just what's wrong. I had to come to... grips with it myself, and quickly too."
Rose swallowed, her mouth gone dry. The human Doctor knew she was watching, but the Time Lord didn't. Or perhaps he did-he always seemed to be able to smell her shampoo, or hear her breathing, or just know that she was about. Maybe the TARDIS told him. Either way, things in the room suddenly got extremely intimate. The Doctors' arms, hanging over the back of the sofa, now intertwined.
"I told you, nothing's wrong," the Doctor insisted, but his voice had lost its edge. His shoulders relaxed a bit, and he loosened his tie.
"You're right. It's nothing that's wrong. Really, it's right. Or understandable. You're horny."
"I'm-"
"Horny. Randy? Amorous? Aroused?"
"Enough with the word-salad."
"I'm right, though. Rose explained it all to me, when I was feeling... confused. Like I wasn't in the driver's seat of my own body. I am right, aren't I?" He gave a high-pitched little giggle. "That superior Time Lord endocrine system finally meets its match."
"I'm sure it's very amusing. Thank you so much for your tact."
"Always," was the other Doctor's response. There was a long silence as both men fidgeted with their clothes or the tassels on the sofa's throw-pillows. "So, you still...?"
They locked eyes.
"Yeah," said the Doctor, almost inaudibly.
And then they were on each other and Rose couldn't even figure out for a few moments who was doing what to whom. A brown jacket was half-on, half-off, a tie was flung off to the side, landing over top of an armillary sphere, and a maroon t-shirt was pulled up, but not taken fully off, exposing a taut, pale stomach.
She craned her neck to see better, just in time to hear her name on the lips of the man with the pale blue Oxford shirt half unbuttoned and half pulled over his head. She blanched and shrunk back a little.
"Yeah," she heard the other Doctor answer, between throaty gasps. "She is. But... she's not invited." As he said this, he raised his head and turned to look straight out the gap in the door.
"She can watch, though," came the voice of the other, his head thrown back over the arm of the sofa.
And that was it. No more talking from these two men whose gobs could power a small planet for several centuries. The sounds of the TARDIS grew louder again, and even sounded... enthusiastic. Perhaps she liked to watch, too.
Her cover blown, she felt free to open the door a bit further so she could get a full view of the action in a large mirror propped against the far wall of the study. Blue trousers straddled brown, and thin hands grasped at hair and fabric, and the back of the couch for stability. The joints of the antique piece of furniture on which they wrestled creaked and groaned, while throw-pillows were flung to the floor.
Rose felt her internal temperature rise alarmingly, while her heart seemed to beat a good 6 inches above its usual location. She bit her lip and her breathing grew ragged. She wanted so much to run in and join the tussle, she gripped the door frame until her knuckles grew white.
Shirts were now fully off, and she could see the flashes of teeth biting necks and shoulders. The Doctors both liked it rough, she'd discovered, and now, without her around to encourage a more gentle approach, she thought they might draw blood.
One of them, she couldn't be sure which, groaned, loudly. In the mirror, she could see their hips bucking against one another, as the Doctor had his wrists grasped harshly by the other and held over his head with one strong hand. The human Doctor, always slightly more eager to go for broke than the Time Lord, had effectively pinned him to the sofa and held him down as the other, quite frankly, made no effort to get away whatsoever.
In what tiny bit of rational-thinking mind Rose had left available to her, she made a mental note: handcuffs, get some. The rest of her brain was in complete accord with her body by just hanging slack and watching dumbly.
Some sort of alien object d'arte fell off of the side-table. The sofa rocked and creaked to the rhythm of the Doctor grinding down on to the groin of the man beneath him, who was straining to arch his hips upwards to continue the contact. They both began to make their characteristic moans, the man who still had his blue trousers on much more exuberantly than the other (also still in brown, though his zip was part-way undone).
Rose leaned against the wall, her hands fluttering and hovering over various parts of her body that were screaming out for contact. What's the etiquette here, she wondered, because something surely was going to need to happen for her as well.
"Dammit!" the Doctor pinned supine on the sofa cried roughly, and it was the single sexiest pre-watershed swear Rose had ever heard. "Dammit, dammit, fuck!"
She shook her head. Did he just say fuck? She swallowed over the lump in her throat. The man hovering over top of him, lithe arm muscles rippling under flushed skin, grinned triumphantly, baring every last one of his teeth.
"Dammit, my trousers!" the Doctor said breathlessly as the other man climbed off of him clumsily and offered a hand to help him sit up.
The other Doctor shrugged. "That's why we have washing powder. And multiple suits." He cast a glance over to the doorway and Rose instinctively moved into a shadow, and then began to slowly and quietly back down the hallway towards her own room.
She had plans. Plans which did not involve the Doctors, or laundry.
~000~
Rose fiddled with a rip in her jeans. One Doctor dabbed at a cut on his arm with a handkerchief, and the other tried to figure out where a tiny, nearly microscopic, screw had come out of his sonic screwdriver.
"I'd say that was a roaring success," the Doctor said as he gave his wound a surreptitious lick. "Those bounty-hunters won't be coming back here any time soon."
The other Doctor put his screwdriver down and raised a hand to summon a robotic waiter over. "Three more, please," he said, gesturing to the empty or nearly-empty glasses in front of them on the table.
"Nice work with the sonicing, there, Doctor," Rose said with a smile that couldn't quite be contained. "And I'll tell you what... I think it was a success in more ways than one."
Two sets of big brown eyes (one from behind spectacles) turned on her expectantly. She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a pair of handcuffs, nicked from one of the mercenaries they'd sent packing. Dangling them off of one of her fingers, she winked.
"Nicely done," the Doctor in blue said. "Who gets to watch first?"
Three hands immediately shot skyward, causing the other restaurant patrons to turn and stare. After a beat, the Doctor then raised his other hand, his brown jacket riding up around his shoulders.
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Rose/Ten2 (all together)
Rating: Adultish for soft-focus secks, Tencest, and the f-bomb
Intrepid Beta: fid_gin
Summary: The Doctors and Rose land in Swinging London (yeah, baby!). UST-without-much-plot, occasional RST-without-much-plot, and some character study. Voyeurism, public sex, Tencest, but all of fairly mild sorts.
A/N: Hooray! This here is the fic I have written for my benefactress xebgoc , who won me in the Support Stacie Author Auction waaaay back in September. She requested a historical setting, with voyeurism and Tencest. I have endeavoured to oblige. A fic in three parts, posted Wednesday, Friday and Sunday.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Part 3
The Doctor could see them nudging each other and whispering like children as they all walked back to the TARDIS. In a way, he supposed he had fallen quite unwittingly into the role of the more sober, more responsible party in the trio of himself, his part-human duplicate, and the woman who bound them together. It hadn't been intentional at all, but on the way back home after a rollicking night at a club where the humans had had a bit too much to drink and Rose had been a bit too flirtatious in order to get those drinks purchased, he'd had a realisation.
"Blimey, I'm the husband," he sighed with a little puff of steam as his breath hit the chilly night air.
"Whas'sat?" Rose slurred from behind.
"Nothing."
He heard Rose mumble a protest, followed by the other Doctor shushing her and then making her giggle again as they reached their destination. "You two seem to have had your share of fun in 1965."
Rose collapsed on the captain's chair and began to unzip her boots immediately. "Didn't you?"
"Yeah," the Doctor said, slinging his brown coat over the usual bit of coral. "Yeah, it was brilliant. But I've already been before, loads of times. This trip was mainly for you. I thought maybe we could all use a bit of a holiday."
Rose kicked the boots off to the side and gingerly stepped over the metal floor to take his arm and give him a peck on the cheek. "It was lovely, thank you. And I wouldn't say it was all work and no play for you, either, Mister Strip Tease!"
"Oi, that's Doctor Strip Tease, thank you," he protested. "And I had to do something while you two were off..." He rubbed the back of his neck, disengaged from Rose and leaned against the console. "While you were off..."
The other Doctor moved over to stand next to Rose and they both fidgeted with their hands and shuffled their feet like guilty school children.
"Well, there it is," the Doctor said, seemingly apropos of nothing, pushing himself off the console again and propelling himself out of the room. He certainly didn't have the right to tell them where and how to have intercourse. Public intercourse. Public intercourse in a dark alley. Public intercourse in a dark alley, spontaneously devouring one another, fully clothed, with sweat and musk and tongues....
He groaned, rather loudly, taking himself by surprise. He started humming the bridge of a song they'd heard performed that night-a song he didn't even know the name of or any of the words to. It was just a sound to fill the space between his ears for a precious few seconds. He walked the circumference of his study and picked up several objects, only to put them back down again. None of this made any sense to him-not what he'd seen in the alley or the reaction it provoked, nor the flood of thoughts and chemicals that had erupted every time he so much as looked at another humanoid creature since then.
"You're upset," came a voice from the doorway: His double, blue suit jacket held over one shoulder, shoes and socks off.
The Doctor put down the box of spent fuses he'd been poking around in. "Am not."
"Hmm..." the man in blue mused. "Perturbed, then? Provoked? Prevaricating? Preseverating? Any of these words working for you?"
But the Doctor, oddly, did not feel like word games. Not one bit. "Did you want something?"
"Just to say goodnight."
"Goodnight."
"And to see if there was anything you wanted to discuss." And quite to the contrary of his stated intention of going off to have a good night, he sat down heavily on the sofa.
"Discuss?"
"Discourse? Delineate? Dia-"
"Do shut up?" the Doctor offered instead.
The other man shook his head. "No, rather not. Sort of the opposite, in fact."
"Aren't you tired yet? You humans with all your sleeping and your intoxication and your shagging-"
"Pardon me, but you sleep. And you could get pissed, if you wanted, and you certainly shag. I believe 'like a rock star' is the expression. There's no need to hold those things against us." He paused, plucked a bit of fuzz off of his t-shirt. "Please don't hold those things against us. It's been hard enough... adjusting."
"I'm not holding it... I mean, I wouldn't, but when you throw it in my face-" The Doctor frowned, realising a bit too late that the issue that he was addressing was not the same as the issue his counterpart was addressing. Quite obviously so. "Oh, bollocks."
The other man remained silent for a beat, an eyebrow pertly raised, as the TARDIS hummed around them. "Please, continue," he finally said, settling back a bit more into the sofa cushions.
"It's nothing, never mind," the Doctor mumbled, but he already knew he wasn't going to get away so easily. He certainly wouldn't let someone dig such a magnificent hole for themselves without waiting around for them to fall in.
"No, I'd like to know what it is I've seemingly thrown in your face."
~000~
Outside the door, Rose sighed in frustration, involuntarily, then hoped she hadn't been heard. She'd put the Doctor up to this, to go and see why the other had been acting... well, just off. It was subtle things, but she could tell-and with the life they lived, she'd decided that it was in no one's best interests for any secrets to be kept, or grudges to be held. They needed to trust one another completely, and if that required her to skulk about outside doors and eavesdrop, well... Never mind that. The point was, she needed to get the whole truth and not a version filtered through the Doctor's weird sense of self-preservation that extended to the other as well.
A tingle from all the lager she'd consumed still played about the tips of her fingers, but she was steady enough to remain still and quiet as she peeped in the door where it was slightly ajar. Both men were in profile to her, the human Doctor sitting on the couch, and the Time Lord, still completely buttoned up in his brown suit, standing and looking fairly miserable-as he was very good at doing.
The casually-dressed Doctor patted the sofa next to him. "Honestly, you're being ridiculous. Being cagey with your own self-only you could pull that off, I'm sure of it."
"It really is nothing," the other Doctor insisted, but his features began to soften and he shuffled slowly over to stand before his double. "It's silly. I'm silly. But, I saw you today-both of you. In the alley..."
A light of recognition washed over the other man's face, followed closely by a fierce blush. He remained silent, but his mouth formed a little "Oh."
"See? It's nothing. And I didn't even mean to... I was just looking for you to tell you I was done with the TARDIS."
"Well, it just sort of happened-we didn't plan it just to hack you off or anything," the Doctor said defensively.
From the other side of the door, Rose felt her cheeks warm with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal at the memory of their encounter.
The Doctor in brown finally took a seat next to his duplicate and they mirrored one another perfectly in the way they each draped an arm over the back of the sofa.
"I'm not hacked off. I've got no right to tell you two where to have intercourse."
Rose winced a little; she didn't know why he could never just say "sex" or "fucking" like a normal person. He could take a page from his part-human version, who was perfectly comfortable with a wide variety of euphemisms (perhaps a little too comfortable, if she was honest).
"Too right, you don't," said the other man, but there was no defiance in his voice. They weren't about to have any sort of a punch-up over this, which was what Rose had feared for a brief moment.
"It's just..."
Rose held her breath-there was always a certain stillness that would come over the TARDIS when the Doctor was about to say something important and honest.
"It's just that I'd never seen you and her... as a non-participant. Which looks much the same as me and her, of course. So, twice the weirdness."
"You saying you want to get some mirrors put in the bedroom?" the other man laughed, though it was a bit forced.
The Doctor paused in consideration, and straightened his tie. "Not until I can figure out what happened after."
The two men almost imperceptibly inched forward towards one another, and their voices got quieter. Rose had to strain to listen, even with the hum of the TARDIS suddenly being so muffled.
"What happened after?" the other Doctor asked, eyes wide. "And did you see... how much did you see?"
"Well, I'd rather not get into all the sordid details," the Doctor demurred. "But I saw her, on the crates... and you..." He trailed off and coughed uncomfortably. "You know."
"I do know."
"Give me your hand," the Doctor said, suddenly, as if he'd just arrived at an important decision, and reached towards his duplicate.
"My what?"
"Your hand." He grabbed the other man by the wrist, his large hand encircling the delicate bones. "You were holding her, really gripping her, and I couldn't decide if it was her legs or your hands, or the both together, but-" He brought the other Doctor's hand to his face and licked the pads of his fingers.
"Oh!" was all he could say to having his fingers suddenly in his counterpart's mouth.
Oh!, indeed, Rose thought. This was an interesting turn of events. She hugged the wall a little closer and shifted to get a better view.
"I can still taste it," the Doctor said, with an intensity he normally reserved for solving scientific problems involving life and death. "Not you, not her-or not just you and her. Both of you, at the same time."
"Hang about," the other Doctor said, and Rose felt a little deflated. She most certainly did not want them to hang about, she'd decided. Not at all. "Did it make you feel like your insides were all about to come out the top of your head?"
Rose wrinkled her nose. That image was a bit of a mood-killer.
The Time Lord nodded slowly, and a lazy smile began to play around the edges of the other's mouth.
"And did you just start thinking about having a go with whoever was the next to walk by? Wait, wait, wait! You were in a strip club! A strip club!" He was running a hand vigorously across his scalp, as he did when saving a species or dispatching an evil-doer. Then, suddenly, he was doing the same to the scalp of the other Doctor as well, mussing his hair.
"I was. It seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Oh, Doctor," the other Doctor sighed. "Oh, Doctor, what are we going to do with you?"
The Doctor cocked his head to the side and tugged nervously on his earlobe. "Does something need doing with me?"
"Listen to your Doctor," he said, more sedate now, almost purring. "Because I know just what's wrong. I had to come to... grips with it myself, and quickly too."
Rose swallowed, her mouth gone dry. The human Doctor knew she was watching, but the Time Lord didn't. Or perhaps he did-he always seemed to be able to smell her shampoo, or hear her breathing, or just know that she was about. Maybe the TARDIS told him. Either way, things in the room suddenly got extremely intimate. The Doctors' arms, hanging over the back of the sofa, now intertwined.
"I told you, nothing's wrong," the Doctor insisted, but his voice had lost its edge. His shoulders relaxed a bit, and he loosened his tie.
"You're right. It's nothing that's wrong. Really, it's right. Or understandable. You're horny."
"I'm-"
"Horny. Randy? Amorous? Aroused?"
"Enough with the word-salad."
"I'm right, though. Rose explained it all to me, when I was feeling... confused. Like I wasn't in the driver's seat of my own body. I am right, aren't I?" He gave a high-pitched little giggle. "That superior Time Lord endocrine system finally meets its match."
"I'm sure it's very amusing. Thank you so much for your tact."
"Always," was the other Doctor's response. There was a long silence as both men fidgeted with their clothes or the tassels on the sofa's throw-pillows. "So, you still...?"
They locked eyes.
"Yeah," said the Doctor, almost inaudibly.
And then they were on each other and Rose couldn't even figure out for a few moments who was doing what to whom. A brown jacket was half-on, half-off, a tie was flung off to the side, landing over top of an armillary sphere, and a maroon t-shirt was pulled up, but not taken fully off, exposing a taut, pale stomach.
She craned her neck to see better, just in time to hear her name on the lips of the man with the pale blue Oxford shirt half unbuttoned and half pulled over his head. She blanched and shrunk back a little.
"Yeah," she heard the other Doctor answer, between throaty gasps. "She is. But... she's not invited." As he said this, he raised his head and turned to look straight out the gap in the door.
"She can watch, though," came the voice of the other, his head thrown back over the arm of the sofa.
And that was it. No more talking from these two men whose gobs could power a small planet for several centuries. The sounds of the TARDIS grew louder again, and even sounded... enthusiastic. Perhaps she liked to watch, too.
Her cover blown, she felt free to open the door a bit further so she could get a full view of the action in a large mirror propped against the far wall of the study. Blue trousers straddled brown, and thin hands grasped at hair and fabric, and the back of the couch for stability. The joints of the antique piece of furniture on which they wrestled creaked and groaned, while throw-pillows were flung to the floor.
Rose felt her internal temperature rise alarmingly, while her heart seemed to beat a good 6 inches above its usual location. She bit her lip and her breathing grew ragged. She wanted so much to run in and join the tussle, she gripped the door frame until her knuckles grew white.
Shirts were now fully off, and she could see the flashes of teeth biting necks and shoulders. The Doctors both liked it rough, she'd discovered, and now, without her around to encourage a more gentle approach, she thought they might draw blood.
One of them, she couldn't be sure which, groaned, loudly. In the mirror, she could see their hips bucking against one another, as the Doctor had his wrists grasped harshly by the other and held over his head with one strong hand. The human Doctor, always slightly more eager to go for broke than the Time Lord, had effectively pinned him to the sofa and held him down as the other, quite frankly, made no effort to get away whatsoever.
In what tiny bit of rational-thinking mind Rose had left available to her, she made a mental note: handcuffs, get some. The rest of her brain was in complete accord with her body by just hanging slack and watching dumbly.
Some sort of alien object d'arte fell off of the side-table. The sofa rocked and creaked to the rhythm of the Doctor grinding down on to the groin of the man beneath him, who was straining to arch his hips upwards to continue the contact. They both began to make their characteristic moans, the man who still had his blue trousers on much more exuberantly than the other (also still in brown, though his zip was part-way undone).
Rose leaned against the wall, her hands fluttering and hovering over various parts of her body that were screaming out for contact. What's the etiquette here, she wondered, because something surely was going to need to happen for her as well.
"Dammit!" the Doctor pinned supine on the sofa cried roughly, and it was the single sexiest pre-watershed swear Rose had ever heard. "Dammit, dammit, fuck!"
She shook her head. Did he just say fuck? She swallowed over the lump in her throat. The man hovering over top of him, lithe arm muscles rippling under flushed skin, grinned triumphantly, baring every last one of his teeth.
"Dammit, my trousers!" the Doctor said breathlessly as the other man climbed off of him clumsily and offered a hand to help him sit up.
The other Doctor shrugged. "That's why we have washing powder. And multiple suits." He cast a glance over to the doorway and Rose instinctively moved into a shadow, and then began to slowly and quietly back down the hallway towards her own room.
She had plans. Plans which did not involve the Doctors, or laundry.
~000~
Rose fiddled with a rip in her jeans. One Doctor dabbed at a cut on his arm with a handkerchief, and the other tried to figure out where a tiny, nearly microscopic, screw had come out of his sonic screwdriver.
"I'd say that was a roaring success," the Doctor said as he gave his wound a surreptitious lick. "Those bounty-hunters won't be coming back here any time soon."
The other Doctor put his screwdriver down and raised a hand to summon a robotic waiter over. "Three more, please," he said, gesturing to the empty or nearly-empty glasses in front of them on the table.
"Nice work with the sonicing, there, Doctor," Rose said with a smile that couldn't quite be contained. "And I'll tell you what... I think it was a success in more ways than one."
Two sets of big brown eyes (one from behind spectacles) turned on her expectantly. She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a pair of handcuffs, nicked from one of the mercenaries they'd sent packing. Dangling them off of one of her fingers, she winked.
"Nicely done," the Doctor in blue said. "Who gets to watch first?"
Three hands immediately shot skyward, causing the other restaurant patrons to turn and stare. After a beat, the Doctor then raised his other hand, his brown jacket riding up around his shoulders.