Fic: Watching
Um...hello :) This is my first post here, and my first fic in the Two era. It's just a little mildly porny ficlet. Dedicated to
vandonovan, who as well as providing a lovely and efficient beta (mistakes are mine, good bits are his :D ) encouraged me to write and post fic here in the first place! Many thanks to him, and also to
snowgrouse whose recent manip of Jamie (posted here) was a great inspiration for this ficlet!
PS I invariably screw up the html on these things, so if anything's weird/not properly cut, please bear with me - I'm fixing it as we speak - so to speak :)
Title: Watching
Rating: Er...R-ish?
Genre: Sort of slashy preslash PWP, might be precursor to a longer fic
Pairing: Two/Jamie (implied), and - er - Jamie/Jamie, I guess :) (brief nonporny appearance of Zoe)
Wordcount: 1,647
Warnings: The wanton abuse of a cup of tea, and spoilers for whether anything's worn under the kilt.
Summary: If you go down to the Console Room today, you're in for a big surprise...
It had been rather a boring three days, travelling through the time vortex with no fixed destination, the TARDIS seemingly reluctant to find a place to land. The Doctor had spent most of the time tinkering with the timeship and searching the library for exasperatingly absent technical manuals, none of which would probably help him anyway. After being distracted for a day and a half by an unexpectedly found first edition collection of Cicero's complete works, however, he decided he should probably find his companions. They might be worried about him, and on a more practical note, it was a good idea to find them before they grew too bored and decided to do a little fiddling with the TARDIS themselves; the Doctor wouldn't put it past Jamie to short-circuit something critical under the guise of 'helping'.
Zoe was easily located, entertaining herself by running experiments in one of the laboratories. She didn't seem particularly concerned by the Doctor's recent absence, and aside from a polite 'good morning', paid him scant attention as she flitted between various pieces of humming, blinking equipment, and the journal in which she was recording her results.
"Hello, Zoe. What are you doing?"
"Just running a few tests; I'll explain later. Please excuse me, the timing of this experiment is quite critical." She pushed gently past him to fiddle with one of the machines.
The Doctor found to his embarrassment that he couldn't remember what exactly it did, so he put aside his miffed-ness at being slighted and decided not to ask any more questions except for, "Have you seen Jamie about? He's been keeping out of trouble, I assume?"
"I saw him about an hour ago; he was looking for you," Zoe said, scribbling something in her notebook. "I think he went to the Console Room."
"I don't suppose he'll still be there now. Still, I should probably pop in and make sure we're not hurtling towards the corona of a sun, or anything. Which we might be," the Doctor added, hoping to provoke a reaction from the absorbed scientist.
"Yes, very nice," came the absent reply; Zoe was reading over her notes.
"It would at least be interesting," the Doctor said. "Or we might be on a collision course with a planet full of cognitively advanced purple ponies."
"Yes, that would be very interesting," murmured Zoe, totting up a column of figures.
The Doctor sighed, and gave up. After cautioning the young genius not to blow anything up, or irradiate the TARDIS and its occupants with gamma rays, he left her to her work and went in search of Jamie. That young man at least would be pleased to see him; indeed the Doctor felt rather guilty for leaving the adventurous Scot alone all this time. The poor boy must be terribly bored, he thought, sympathetically. Whatever can he have found to do with himself?
Deciding to try Jamie's bedroom as his first port of call, the Doctor collected a cup of tea on the way, listening for the tell-tale cat-sucked-into-the-time-vortex screeching that would indicate Jamie had finally found the set of bagpipes that the Doctor and Victoria had carefully hidden in the zero room some time ago. The sound didn't manifest itself, however; Jamie was not in his room, and the Doctor was starting to wonder what was keeping his friend busy. Eventually, he decided that Jamie was probably still looking for him, and the most likely place for their respective searches to converge was the Console Room, so thither he accordingly headed, sipping his tea, blissfully unaware of the manner in which his search was about to end.
The Console Room was dimly lit, preserving power; Jamie clearly wasn't there, and the Doctor was reaching to switch on the lights fully to check their location when a soft sound from somewhere on the other side of the centre column made the hairs on his neck rise. Could there be an intruder in the TARDIS?
Oh dear... this is what you get for spending all day reading about lawyers, the Doctor thought.
It was some kind of divine punishment, clearly. Creeping closer, crouched down so that whoever or whatever was over there wouldn't see him, the Doctor reached the centre column and peeked carefully over it.
What he saw made him blush ferociously to the roots of his hair. Stacked against the appalling embarrassment were the comforting facts that first, there was no intruder, and second, he had found Jamie after all - if not quite as he had expected.
The young man was half-lying, half-sitting on floor on the other side of the console, his back resting against the cool metal. His shirt was unbuttoned, and he was slowly rubbing and occasionally pinching his pert nipple with one large hand. Any fear the Doctor might have had that his friend was in pain, however, were dispelled by the fact that the very first things his startled gaze had lit upon were Jamie's other hand, and his … personal parts, which that hand appeared to be enthusiastically fondling.
It was in fact true, the Doctor observed on some unconscious level of his brain that was still capable of rational thought, that nothing at all was worn under the kilt; this was a prime demonstration of 'perfect working order'.
Oh his giddy aunt, indeed.
So this was how Jamie had been amusing himself for the last day or so while the Doctor was reading Cicero. A plethora of thought-fragments skittered around in the Doctor's stunned mind, fortunately not making it to his gaping mouth. Absolutely nothing wrong with it, of course, nothing at all ... perfectly normal behaviour for a healthy young human ... Now stop staring, this is a private moment you really shouldn’t be witnessing ... Well, perhaps doing this sort of thing in the Console Room is a little bit on the inappropriate side ... decorum and everything ... asking for trouble really. Zoe could have walked in! Crumbs, where else might he have been doing this? No, don't think about that, and stop looking, he doesn't have anything you haven't seen before!
Should I say anything? Make a noise to subtly alert him to my presence? He's obviously quite ... quite absorbed, and ... going at it rather vigorously now, it seems. No, no, best to just creep away quietly, leave him to it ... but what if Zoe does walk in? Oh, and now he's making noises ... he doesn't know I'm here, does he? Of course not, don't be silly, he's obviously just imagining - er - probably best not to think about it really. Oh dear, this is very difficult, most embarrassing... my goodness, hasn't he got large…hands ...
Even as these intermittently sensible, if disconnected, thoughts were sliding around his brain, the Doctor was completely unable to tear his gaze away from Jamie, who thankfully had his own eyes closed; had he opened them at any point, he would have easily spotted the Doctor's flushed face peeking over the console. In fact, the Doctor had been slowly rising to his feet, completely unaware he was doing so, his almost-full cup of tea listing dangerously in his limp grasp. He'd given up all pretence, even to himself, that he wasn't watching the boy.
Jamie was breathing hard now, his eyes still tightly closed, full lower lip caught between his teeth as his strong right hand slid rapidly up and down, pausing only to squeeze, left hand pinching a nipple between thumb and forefinger, resulting in a faint, breathy moan which was soon present in every exhale, gradually becoming louder. The Doctor, eyes very wide, was otherwise unconsciously mirroring Jamie's expression with his teeth clamped on his lower lip. He flexed his sweaty fingers as he tried not to let himself imagine them wrapped around Jamie's cock. Tried not to imagine himself lovingly caressing the boy's damp, muscular chest with his other hand, whispering husky words of encouragement in his ear ... don't hold back, come for me, oh, my dear, beautiful Jamie ...
As if in response, the boy threw back his head, hips bucking uncontrollably as a low, ragged, almost anguished cry escaped him. "Doctor!"
The Doctor almost fell over in alarm before realising that Jamie wasn't actually addressing him, but was still playing out whatever fantasy was in his head, unaware that the object of that fantasy was present at this very moment, indulging in a corresponding one of his own.
Overwhelmed, the Doctor remained rooted to the spot, trembling under a torrent of emotions listening to Jamie panting hard. The boy’s firm young body was slowly relaxing, almost melting into the floor as he gradually went limp, his eyes still closed and a small, peaceful smile curving his lips. A satisfied little sigh escaped him, and for a blissful, timeless instant, all was silent and still.
The Doctor, his body flooded with a warmth which no longer had anything to do with embarrassment, allowed himself a last lingering moment to enjoy Jamie's contentment before preparing to quietly slip away and mull over what had happened. He must not, he decided, say anything to Jamie. It would be ... inappropriate. A mutual fantasy it might be, but fantasy it would have to remain; Jamie could never know that the Doctor had observed him so … so voyeuristically in such a private, personal moment. It could be disastrous for their friendship, a relationship which meant more to the Doctor than perhaps any other he had experienced so far in his life.
Absently sipping at his cold tea, the Doctor wrenched his gaze away from Jamie's comfortably drowsing form with a regretful sigh and tiptoed softly towards the door. Before he could reach it, however, his friend's frank voice, sounding rather smug, stopped him in his tracks.
"Y' enjoyed that then, eh, Doctor?"
The Doctor dropped his tea.
vandonovan, who as well as providing a lovely and efficient beta (mistakes are mine, good bits are his :D ) encouraged me to write and post fic here in the first place! Many thanks to him, and also to
snowgrouse whose recent manip of Jamie (posted here) was a great inspiration for this ficlet!
PS I invariably screw up the html on these things, so if anything's weird/not properly cut, please bear with me - I'm fixing it as we speak - so to speak :)
Title: Watching
Rating: Er...R-ish?
Genre: Sort of slashy preslash PWP, might be precursor to a longer fic
Pairing: Two/Jamie (implied), and - er - Jamie/Jamie, I guess :) (brief nonporny appearance of Zoe)
Wordcount: 1,647
Warnings: The wanton abuse of a cup of tea, and spoilers for whether anything's worn under the kilt.
Summary: If you go down to the Console Room today, you're in for a big surprise...
It had been rather a boring three days, travelling through the time vortex with no fixed destination, the TARDIS seemingly reluctant to find a place to land. The Doctor had spent most of the time tinkering with the timeship and searching the library for exasperatingly absent technical manuals, none of which would probably help him anyway. After being distracted for a day and a half by an unexpectedly found first edition collection of Cicero's complete works, however, he decided he should probably find his companions. They might be worried about him, and on a more practical note, it was a good idea to find them before they grew too bored and decided to do a little fiddling with the TARDIS themselves; the Doctor wouldn't put it past Jamie to short-circuit something critical under the guise of 'helping'.
Zoe was easily located, entertaining herself by running experiments in one of the laboratories. She didn't seem particularly concerned by the Doctor's recent absence, and aside from a polite 'good morning', paid him scant attention as she flitted between various pieces of humming, blinking equipment, and the journal in which she was recording her results.
"Hello, Zoe. What are you doing?"
"Just running a few tests; I'll explain later. Please excuse me, the timing of this experiment is quite critical." She pushed gently past him to fiddle with one of the machines.
The Doctor found to his embarrassment that he couldn't remember what exactly it did, so he put aside his miffed-ness at being slighted and decided not to ask any more questions except for, "Have you seen Jamie about? He's been keeping out of trouble, I assume?"
"I saw him about an hour ago; he was looking for you," Zoe said, scribbling something in her notebook. "I think he went to the Console Room."
"I don't suppose he'll still be there now. Still, I should probably pop in and make sure we're not hurtling towards the corona of a sun, or anything. Which we might be," the Doctor added, hoping to provoke a reaction from the absorbed scientist.
"Yes, very nice," came the absent reply; Zoe was reading over her notes.
"It would at least be interesting," the Doctor said. "Or we might be on a collision course with a planet full of cognitively advanced purple ponies."
"Yes, that would be very interesting," murmured Zoe, totting up a column of figures.
The Doctor sighed, and gave up. After cautioning the young genius not to blow anything up, or irradiate the TARDIS and its occupants with gamma rays, he left her to her work and went in search of Jamie. That young man at least would be pleased to see him; indeed the Doctor felt rather guilty for leaving the adventurous Scot alone all this time. The poor boy must be terribly bored, he thought, sympathetically. Whatever can he have found to do with himself?
Deciding to try Jamie's bedroom as his first port of call, the Doctor collected a cup of tea on the way, listening for the tell-tale cat-sucked-into-the-time-vortex screeching that would indicate Jamie had finally found the set of bagpipes that the Doctor and Victoria had carefully hidden in the zero room some time ago. The sound didn't manifest itself, however; Jamie was not in his room, and the Doctor was starting to wonder what was keeping his friend busy. Eventually, he decided that Jamie was probably still looking for him, and the most likely place for their respective searches to converge was the Console Room, so thither he accordingly headed, sipping his tea, blissfully unaware of the manner in which his search was about to end.
The Console Room was dimly lit, preserving power; Jamie clearly wasn't there, and the Doctor was reaching to switch on the lights fully to check their location when a soft sound from somewhere on the other side of the centre column made the hairs on his neck rise. Could there be an intruder in the TARDIS?
Oh dear... this is what you get for spending all day reading about lawyers, the Doctor thought.
It was some kind of divine punishment, clearly. Creeping closer, crouched down so that whoever or whatever was over there wouldn't see him, the Doctor reached the centre column and peeked carefully over it.
What he saw made him blush ferociously to the roots of his hair. Stacked against the appalling embarrassment were the comforting facts that first, there was no intruder, and second, he had found Jamie after all - if not quite as he had expected.
The young man was half-lying, half-sitting on floor on the other side of the console, his back resting against the cool metal. His shirt was unbuttoned, and he was slowly rubbing and occasionally pinching his pert nipple with one large hand. Any fear the Doctor might have had that his friend was in pain, however, were dispelled by the fact that the very first things his startled gaze had lit upon were Jamie's other hand, and his … personal parts, which that hand appeared to be enthusiastically fondling.
It was in fact true, the Doctor observed on some unconscious level of his brain that was still capable of rational thought, that nothing at all was worn under the kilt; this was a prime demonstration of 'perfect working order'.
Oh his giddy aunt, indeed.
So this was how Jamie had been amusing himself for the last day or so while the Doctor was reading Cicero. A plethora of thought-fragments skittered around in the Doctor's stunned mind, fortunately not making it to his gaping mouth. Absolutely nothing wrong with it, of course, nothing at all ... perfectly normal behaviour for a healthy young human ... Now stop staring, this is a private moment you really shouldn’t be witnessing ... Well, perhaps doing this sort of thing in the Console Room is a little bit on the inappropriate side ... decorum and everything ... asking for trouble really. Zoe could have walked in! Crumbs, where else might he have been doing this? No, don't think about that, and stop looking, he doesn't have anything you haven't seen before!
Should I say anything? Make a noise to subtly alert him to my presence? He's obviously quite ... quite absorbed, and ... going at it rather vigorously now, it seems. No, no, best to just creep away quietly, leave him to it ... but what if Zoe does walk in? Oh, and now he's making noises ... he doesn't know I'm here, does he? Of course not, don't be silly, he's obviously just imagining - er - probably best not to think about it really. Oh dear, this is very difficult, most embarrassing... my goodness, hasn't he got large…hands ...
Even as these intermittently sensible, if disconnected, thoughts were sliding around his brain, the Doctor was completely unable to tear his gaze away from Jamie, who thankfully had his own eyes closed; had he opened them at any point, he would have easily spotted the Doctor's flushed face peeking over the console. In fact, the Doctor had been slowly rising to his feet, completely unaware he was doing so, his almost-full cup of tea listing dangerously in his limp grasp. He'd given up all pretence, even to himself, that he wasn't watching the boy.
Jamie was breathing hard now, his eyes still tightly closed, full lower lip caught between his teeth as his strong right hand slid rapidly up and down, pausing only to squeeze, left hand pinching a nipple between thumb and forefinger, resulting in a faint, breathy moan which was soon present in every exhale, gradually becoming louder. The Doctor, eyes very wide, was otherwise unconsciously mirroring Jamie's expression with his teeth clamped on his lower lip. He flexed his sweaty fingers as he tried not to let himself imagine them wrapped around Jamie's cock. Tried not to imagine himself lovingly caressing the boy's damp, muscular chest with his other hand, whispering husky words of encouragement in his ear ... don't hold back, come for me, oh, my dear, beautiful Jamie ...
As if in response, the boy threw back his head, hips bucking uncontrollably as a low, ragged, almost anguished cry escaped him. "Doctor!"
The Doctor almost fell over in alarm before realising that Jamie wasn't actually addressing him, but was still playing out whatever fantasy was in his head, unaware that the object of that fantasy was present at this very moment, indulging in a corresponding one of his own.
Overwhelmed, the Doctor remained rooted to the spot, trembling under a torrent of emotions listening to Jamie panting hard. The boy’s firm young body was slowly relaxing, almost melting into the floor as he gradually went limp, his eyes still closed and a small, peaceful smile curving his lips. A satisfied little sigh escaped him, and for a blissful, timeless instant, all was silent and still.
The Doctor, his body flooded with a warmth which no longer had anything to do with embarrassment, allowed himself a last lingering moment to enjoy Jamie's contentment before preparing to quietly slip away and mull over what had happened. He must not, he decided, say anything to Jamie. It would be ... inappropriate. A mutual fantasy it might be, but fantasy it would have to remain; Jamie could never know that the Doctor had observed him so … so voyeuristically in such a private, personal moment. It could be disastrous for their friendship, a relationship which meant more to the Doctor than perhaps any other he had experienced so far in his life.
Absently sipping at his cold tea, the Doctor wrenched his gaze away from Jamie's comfortably drowsing form with a regretful sigh and tiptoed softly towards the door. Before he could reach it, however, his friend's frank voice, sounding rather smug, stopped him in his tracks.
"Y' enjoyed that then, eh, Doctor?"
The Doctor dropped his tea.