rareslash | Fic: Doing It Both Ways Chapter 5

Title: Doing It Both Ways 5/? Written with

Rating: NC 17
Pairing: Simm/Tennant; Doctor/Master
Warning: RPS andFPS in this one!! IF that is isn't your cup of tea, you might want to stay away.
Disclaimer: We still don't know the actors, sadly, and we still don't own the characters, nope they are still RTD's. *sigh* We just like to make them roll around in mud.

Crack!Disclaimer: ***We'd like to note at this juncture that this is pretty cracky. Dr Who does not film porn. We do. Dr Who does not take three days to film two scenes. We do. John Simm is married. We like to pretend he's not. David Tennant is also in a heterosexual relationship. Bollocks to that.

In conclusion: Abandon reality all ye who enter here.***

Author's note: I really, really have to thank my co author a lot for this chapter. I just couldn't get it right and he rocks and totally hung in there with me and came up with most of what you see here. Plus, he wrote all the hot sex *bows down* See you in the pervy corner, kids....

When John comes down enough to speak, David is still on his knees, naked, studying him.

"Welcome back," David says when he notices, flexing his fingers on John's thighs, smirking up at him like a dirty little schoolboy.

"Mmm," John replies coherently, his eyes still half shut, as he takes David's wrist and tugs, wanting him closer. David obliges and settles himself on John's lap, slouching a little so that John's mouth can reach more than his neck. "I hope you don't have any plans for the next ten hours..."

David shakes his head and makes a negating noise which quickly turns affirmation as John's hand curls over his cock, stroking firmly. He leans down and catches John's mouth, determined not to give them away, swallowing as many moans as he can, reducing himself to soft whines and whimpers. He's been on edge since the third take, when the awkwardness of his nudity had mostly worn off, and he was even more aware of John's head and where it was and where his eyes kept going. It was horrible, horrible torture and now he was paying for it again, trying to hold himself back while letting John know just how much he was getting into this.

"John," he sighs between kisses, "God you should have seen yourself, on your knees in the mud..."

"For you.... On my knees, in the mud, and all for you..." John replies, his hand moving faster, "David..."

Those few words set him off, so little and so much after days of flirting, and he arches, biting down on John's lip too hard, easing back and licking away the hurt as he rocks his way through the aftershocks.

"Mmm... That might just have been worth leaving you last night..." He murmurs, "Almost..."

John laughs, "Give me time. That was just the primer."

They get up and get dressed slowly, taking every chance to touch each other, and David's thankful that location shoots mean they share a room. There's no way he'd get into John's pants, except with his hand, and maybe his tongue if he couldn't wait to get them off.

Going out for dinner was strange, sitting in a restaurant and flirting in front of people who weren't crew, who knew that they were just out for a meal, not working, not acting, just people. Yet, as unaccustomed as he was, David found that he really quite liked it. Once they were past the awkwardness and stealthy glances it was just like before, like they were in a secret club again. Jokes and wine flowed equally freely, and they flirted more and more openly. David actually found himself about to stroke his hand at one point, and quickly pulled himself back.

"What do you say to us skipping dessert and making our way somewhere before I get us arrested?" He asks, once their plates have been cleared, working hard to conceal his intentions from all but the most careful observers. They were likely to be slashers anyway, nothing to fear from them seeing him and John together.

Everything is still for a moment, quiet and unsure. The electric atmosphere around them has a new layer, something soft and not entirely tangible. The Master looks up at the Doctor when he senses it, and immediately he rises from his knees, wiping his mouth of that taste that he had so craved, backing away as if he was frightened.

The Doctor reaches down and pulls up his pants without taking his eyes off of the Master. He rests against the console once more, arms at first coming to cross in front of him before falling back to his sides, an unsure posture at best. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but closes it just as quickly.

“What is that?” The Master asks, though more slowly than before.

“What? What’s...What?” The Doctor asks back, twisting his body from side to side while he looks around himself.

“That...Look. That...You. Why are you looking at me like that?” The Master sounds slightly paranoid.

“What? I’m not looking at you like anything, am I? Well, you did just, you know, you were just...” He points to the ground in front of him before continuing, “Right there. Remember?”

“Oh no, you don’t. No, I won’t have it. You look...You look like a little boy with his first crush. You’re looking at me like you used to look at those frightful girls, your pitiful companions who worshipped the ground you walked upon.” The Master starts to pace the room.

“Sorry, how did I look at them? A sort of school boy crush you say? Well, it’s been a rather long time, I’d say, but I do remember having this crush on a boy back then, back on Gallifrey. He was so powerful, even then. You remind me of him...Anyway.” The Doctor started pacing the room with him, mirroring his moves.

“Stop it. I know what you’re doing. You think....No. No.” He continued with his rant.

“Are you alright? You sound a little mad. Perhaps a rest then; been a trying day.” The Doctor stops his pacing and approaches the Master, reaches out his hand to finger the buttons on his shirt.

The Master bats his hand away. “Don’t touch me. You can’t just...You can’t just give in. I can’t...I can’t have you this way. You and me...Stuck here, like this.” He pushes past the Doctor, reaching for the controls of the Tardis and hitting buttons, pulling levers. Soon he is walking in quick circles around the console, remembering how to power her up, becoming giddy at the thought of leaving this place. The Doctor stands back, watches him. The Master stops soon enough, looking at the controls, at the lack of movement.

“I don’t...” He eyes the jacket he thought he lost to the mud, draped over a chair and surprisingly clean, makes a run for it and fishes through his pockets, pulling out his laser screwdriver and pointing it first at the controls, and when it didn’t work, then at the Doctor.

“Come on, put that thing away.” The Doctor says as he reaches his hand out for the item. “You don’t really think I’d let you have a working weapon on board do you?”

The Master looks down at the screwdriver, drops it in defeat and storms away, pulling at his hair and mumbling words to himself, becoming louder and louder as he makes his way around the room, yanking plugs and hitting the steel wall, then coming back to tip over the chair he had so easily fallen asleep in earlier.

They hurry to David's place, barely managing to keep their hands off each other, but when they step inside, John's suddenly nervous. He knows what he wants, but he's not sure it's going to work. It's not like he has any experience with the more penetrative side of gay sex, but god, just looking at David makes him want to.

Before he has time to think any more David's crowding him up against a wall, lips hot and insistent on his, tongue delving and driving, spurring him on. It doesn’t really matter; he decides idly as his hands push up into David's hair and tug him impossibly close. What matters is how damn good this feels.

David feels the same way, making a soft appreciative noise and pushing his body harder against John's, crushing him up against the wall.

"This is a good look for you," David says when he pulls back, looking down at John's flushed face and dark eyes, "I should do it more often."

John nods and licks his lips, blinking slowly at David, "You should do lots of things."

David chuckles softly and kisses him again, obviously deciding that John needs to have his brain fried some more. This time when he pulls back John keeps his eyes closed, trying to catch his breath. David's pretty much kissed him stupid, and he finds he's incapable of anything more complicated than grabbing at him, sliding his hands down David's sides to his hips, fingers catching and pulling him closer.

"I could fuck you right here... God..." David breathes, hot against John's neck and punctuated with kisses.

John shivers, "I... Fuck..."

"Yeah?" David asks, scraping his teeth over John's neck, growling softly in a way that sent another shower of sparks through him.

"Oh, yes. But, um... I might not have, you know..." He trails off, embarrassed and awkward, like a teenager.

David's head pops up and he looks entirely too gleeful, "Really? That's great!"

John snorts and pouts, "Says the man they call Ten-Inch. I have to work tomorrow you know..."

"Aww..." David says, and John kisses him again to cut off whatever he might have been planning to say. He didn't need pity, or whatever you wanted to call it. Thankfully David takes the hint and doesn't trample on his ego any more, instead wrapping one arm around him and starting to move away from the wall, presumably toward the bedroom.

He spends the next two days watching in veritable silence, glaring at the Doctor and taking in every detail he could about the Tardis, the repairs the Doctor was doing and what still needed to be done. He wanders at night rather than sleep; the uncomfortable beds keep him awake even if he didn't want to be. He peruses the library, finding nothing but human romance, Agatha Christie and Harry Potter novels. He works over the DVD library, again finding nothing but over rated human crap. He debates watching that Harry Potter movie with the bloke that looks like this regeneration of the Doctor, remembering with a sneer how it had brought him some quick release in the past, the thought of an evil sort of Doctor with a wand instead of a sonic screwdriver...But no, he decides instead to move on to the kitchen, banging pots and pans around just enough to keep the Doctor from his precious sleep.

This is worse than he'd imagined it would be. He was completely impotent, the Doctor's little pet. The only bargaining chip he had was sex, and the Doctor didn't seem interested in that anymore.

Not yet anyway.

The Master, bored finally of wandering the ship, takes a seat at an old glorious desk, something that looked like it perhaps belonged to Queen Elizabeth, with its ornate detail and gold lacquer finish. Rather than wondering where it might have actually come from, and why the Doctor couldn't have possibly picked up a grand old bed in the same style, he starts work on his plan.

The next morning, he raids the costume gallery, choosing a pair of swimming trunks in the old style, striped, tight and short. With swim suit on and a grin on his face, he lays a blanket and sun lamp out by the console and lay down with one of the few acceptable books in the Doctor's collection, waiting casually for him to appear and admire the picture. Sunbathing had been one of their favorite things to do back on Gallifrey; there had been days that they did nothing but lounge around under the pretense of sunbathing and relaxing, succeeding in nothing more than teasing each other to the point of madness, leading to many an interesting night or two.

The Doctor finally wanders in, looking slightly hard around the edges, hair a mess and clothes uncharacteristically ruffled. His tie hangs loose around his neck and the top few buttons of his shirt remain unfastened. He looks briefly at the scene set before him, his eyes darting quickly to and away from the practically nude form lying in the middle of his console room.

David leads him to the bedroom and he gets more nervous with each step. It's a good thing that one of them knows what they're doing, and obviously everyone understands to a certain degree, but it's not really the same as having tried it. Then again, the moment David turns and shoots him a grin he remembers why he wants to. Why he's going to even if it's awkward.

Once they're there he decides the best way to do this would be to distract himself, so he sets to pulling David's shirt off, hands roaming over his chest and back, mapping every little response; from the way he shivers and pushes into each caress to the way his eyes hang half shut and the way he keeps licking his lips. It reminds John a lot of Barty Crouch, actually, compulsive and compelling.

He crowds David again, a hand on his neck pulling him into a kiss, taking the lead while he can. Already he feels vulnerable, like he's offering himself up on a platter even as he walks David backward to the bed and pulls away from his mouth, pushing his shoulders until he sits and settling on his knees in his lap.

David's hands start at his knees, sliding firmly up his thighs, over his hips and under his shirt, pushing it up and over his head in one easy movement. He follows the same path back down again, mouth and hands this time, licking and nipping; ;lightly at first, until he catches John's response, then harder, biting enough to leave bruises.

"Make up will hate you in the morning," David murmurs, running his fingers over the wet patch with a blossoming bruise he'd just left.

"Think they'll let me blame you?" He asks, gasping as David's hands close over his arse and pull him even closer, his teeth a bright spot on his shoulder.

"I think unless you tell them otherwise they'll assume it's me," David replies, a little more serious than he meant to be.

John groans and pushes David again until he's flat on his back, "That's it, I'm inventing a girlfriend. Make up can go to hell."

With that he leans down to catch David's mouth again, hungry as he grinds down on him, suddenly reminded of what they'd come in here to do. A shiver of anticipation and fear runs through him, just as David hooks a leg around his hip and flips them over.

"Hmm," He says, pulling back a little to look at John, "Not just walls, apparently. Maybe you
just look good when you're under me..."

"I think," John says, pushing his hips up to meet David’s, "I can live with that."

David grins and licks at his neck, one hand palming over the bulge in John's pants before he sets to getting rid of them pushing them down impatiently until John kicks them off. He's suddenly very naked, with David looking down at him appreciatively, dirty little smirk on his face.

A sudden flurry of movement has David's pants flying across the room, landing by the door. He'd laugh, but David is kissing down his chest, biting just next to his hip bone, drawing up another bruise to explain and stroking John's erection teasingly. He stutters a moan, pushing up against David's mouth and growling when he finds himself held down.

David tuts at him and looks up along his body, "Just trust me, and stop thinking so much..."

It's good advice, so he tries, concentrating on how it feels, the heat of David's mouth, the cool wet trail he leaves behind, the fire he's fanning with every move. Then there are hands on his thighs, pushing them apart gently, and he whimpers, wishing this wasn't so difficult.

"Could you grab the stuff? It's in the drawer," David asks, then sucks John's cock into his mouth like that isn't the most distracting thing he could have done. After a long moment he gathers enough coordination to fling out an arm, digging in the drawer and pulling out condoms and lube blindly, dropping it to the bed beside David and sliding his hand into his hair. Already he's sure that he's addicted to the feel of David's mouth on him, twice now and he can't imagine ever living without it.

He's perfectly distracted, and when he feels David's wet fingers moving up his thigh all he does is shift to make it easier. David hums approval around his cock and he whines, arching up into his mouth. A finger pushes into him and he has to admire the timing, surely deliberate but no less effective for that. He moans and wriggles a little, getting used to the intrusion. Another joins it soon after, and John remembers just how long David's fingers are, slim and graceful and doing sinful things inside him, twisting and pushing up against his prostate unpredictably.

His hand is tight in David's hair, pulling unthinkingly as he squirms between mouth and hand. David takes that as a sign and pushes another finger into him, a little too much this time, and he freezes up, trying desperately not to fight it, focusing on the softness of David's tongue instead of the burning stretch.

"Ah, god... Fuck..." He groans, eyes squeezed shut, fighting the urge to squirm and pull away. Slowly it eases until it's just warmth, and he wants to squirm for entirely different reasons.

Finally David pulls away, lifting his head and grinning up at John, "You good?"

John laughs, dazed and not entirely there, "You tell me." David twists his fingers just so and John keens, gasping for breath again, "Alright, damnit, come on already..."

Apparently that is what David is waiting for, and he pulls away properly, sitting on his heels and looking down at the picture of debauchery he's made, considering. After a moment he nods to himself and gently urges John onto his stomach, half propped on his knees. Another moment and he can hear a little rustle, the condom. Abruptly he wants to panic again, because this is too much, so real and not exactly what he'd planned when he signed on to play the Master. But then David's stroking his back soothingly, seeming to know without him having to say anything, and John is beyond grateful, sighing softly and doing his best to let go and just enjoy it.

It's slow at first, just a hint of nudging, then a little more pressure, and he's sure they're both holding their breath as his body finally starts to give way and let David in just a little at a time. Again it burns, but this time he trusts it, is sure that it will fade to be replaced by that delicious warmth. He's not disappointed, and by the time David is all the way inside him he's floating on a gentle sea of pleasure, moaning with each little rocking thrust.

Slowly it builds, the push-pull driving them harder, faster. He's breathless and arching, pushing back as David rubs against all the right spots, flexing his muscles experimentally and getting a sharp thrust in return. The right thing to do, apparently. He does it again and David growls, grabbing his hips and fucking him in the true sense of the word, dirty and primal, two bodies sweaty and rough, fighting for pleasure.

He loses it the moment David reaches under him to stroke his cock, coming with a loud cry, his orgasm longer than he thought possible. Every time he thinks it's about to fade away his body squeezes David's cock and he's off again, spikes of pleasure that leave him addled and exhausted when he finally comes down. Idly he notices that David must have come too, and thinking back he can place the rough thrusts, the harsh pants and the tightening of the hand that's still on his hip.

They collapse into a boneless heap, rolling to the side to avoid the wet patch, David's arm snaking around his chest and his mouth on John's neck.

"Okay?" He asks softly, nuzzling his way to John's ear and biting the lobe lightly.

"Mmmph. Ask me again when I can move..."