Rotten Petty Perfect Sexy (Torchwood/Who); R.

[sam_storyteller]

Title: Rotten Petty Perfect Sexy
Rating: R for sexy shenanigans of all kinds. Sexnanigans.
Summary: For the first time in four hundred years, the Doctor regenerated with a sex drive. Fortunately, he knew exactly who to consult about it.
Betas: 51stcenturyfox, misswinterhill, neifile7; along with my pre-readers, they told me to make it kind of kinky. Who am I to refuse?
Notes: Temporally set between Journey's End and CoE; for the Doctor, between his second and third visit to Amy Pond. ("Short hop to the moon" my ass.)
Warnings: Light bondage.

First Posted 4.10.2010

Also available at AO3.

***

It had all been very casual, and not a little bit hilarious. Jack could appreciate just how funny it was, mainly because for once he wasn't the one who'd made a fool of himself, and he was also about to get gloriously laid.

"I am," he said, fingers scrabbling at the back of the Doctor's trousers, "a cradle-robber. How old are you now, sixteen?"

"Seven hundred years older than you," the Doctor retorted, right before he bit Jack's lip and started trying to shove Jack's shirt off by the inefficient method of pushing his sleeve up his arm.

"Yeah, well, you look like you don't remember the nineties," Jack told him, getting a thigh between the Doctor's legs, pinning him to the bedroom wall. "And I'm twenty-two hundred years old, so I win."

The Doctor moaned, fingers raking down his arms. "Two thousand years buried under Cardiff doesn't count."

"Yeah, now you sound mature." Jack growled and bit his earlobe. He swung them around almost effortlessly -- this new body was so light, lighter even than the last incarnation and lacking the solidity of Jack's own Doctor, his first. He tossed him down on the bed and the Doctor laughed, looking up at him, all long fingers and sharp cheekbones and lantern jaw.

"What are you going to do, ravish me wholesale?" he asked.

"It's a start," Jack said, taking off his belt. The Doctor watched with hooded, interested eyes as he pulled his shirt off, too. Jack knelt on the bed, crawling over him.

"I like the tie," Jack said, and then undid it with his teeth, pulling the wide ends out of the plain brown bow. He leaned back, tugging it in his mouth, letting it slither around the Doctor's throat until it came free, then spat it aside. The Doctor swallowed, lying still, and Jack leaned back in to nip at his throat. "So, what brings you to Cardiff?" He licked the Doctor's jaw. "Other than the opportunity to very incompetently pretend to be a human in order to..." he pushed his thigh between the Doctor's legs again, and the Doctor closed his eyes and whimpered, "...hit on me in the middle of the day?"

"Sudden inexplicable passion for laverbread and cockles," the Doctor grunted, bending one knee to pin Jack in place above him. Jack arched backwards, rubbing his ass against the Doctor's leg.

"Very suspicious," Jack said, working at the buttons on the Doctor's shirt.

"I know! I don't even like apples anymore."

Jack reached the Doctor's trousers and looked up. "So what do you like?"

The Doctor smiled ferally and twisted his hips under Jack's thighs. Jack caught his breath.

"First time in four hundred years I came back with a sex drive," the Doctor said. "Who, exactly, was I supposed to consult?"

Jack sat back a little, breaking contact. The Doctor looked annoyed and nudged him with his knee, but he was kind of gangly and not really in Jack's weight class wrestling-wise.

"You said I was wrong and shouldn't exist," he said, pointing at the Doctor. He wasn't...angry, really, so much as annoyed. A hundred years of waiting, one very solid rejection, and now this? King of mixed messages, your average Time Lord.

"Well...yeah...in a purely physics-based way," the Doctor said, pushing himself up on his elbows. He looked so earnest. "Outside of physics I do really quite like you, Jack."

"Outside of..." Jack echoed, and then threw back his head and laughed. "You are such an asshole!"

"Can we call me names later?" the Doctor begged, tugging on Jack's waistband, working his flies down. Jack edged back, out of reach, and the Doctor made a frustrated noise.

"What do you like?" Jack repeated, grinning.

"I don't know yet, do I?"

Nice to hear him admit it, for once.

"Actually," the Doctor continued thoughtfully. "I like custard."

Jack raised an eyebrow.

"And fish fingers! And saving the world. But that's about it so far. And those aren't really. Well. You meant sexually, obviously, and no on the fish fingers and custard, and saving the world would be really difficult mid-coitus -- "

"Done it," Jack said, which shut the Doctor up nicely. Jack rubbed his hands. "I guess we'll just have to try everything."

"Everything?" the Doctor raised his eyebrows. "Pretty sure we'd need a girl for at least some of it."

"Should've thought of that before you picked me up without one," Jack said. "We'll just work with what we have. Unless you'd like to play pretend. Little frilly knickers, fuck-me shoes..."

"Maybe later," the Doctor said, grabbing Jack's wrist and pulling. Jack tumbled forward, giving in. He wriggled and thrust, using the Doctor's matching push to get his trousers down around his thighs, then off completely. The Doctor wasn't wearing any underwear, which was convenient.

The Doctor tried to shove him over and roll on top, but Jack held him down by his wrists, chests pressed together, kissing him until he stopped trying and started moaning instead, rubbing shamelessly against Jack's trousers.

"Yes, that," he mumbled into Jack's mouth. "I definitely like that."

Jack grinned against his lips. "Good," he said, and jerked back again. The Doctor's hips pushed up against nothing as Jack arched just enough to separate their bodies, still holding his wrists down.

"Unfair!" the Doctor cried.

"Look who's talking," Jack chided, calmly blocking the Doctor's struggles. He leaned in close, careful to keep his body from pressing down, and smiled. "So. New body. New you. Don't know what you like. Are you a virgin, Doctor?"

The Doctor bit his lip. "Technically?"

"Mmhm," Jack bit the Doctor's lip too, because it was fun.

"Jack, please -- "

"Nuh-uh. This was a long time coming. I'm going to enjoy myself," Jack said. The Doctor's eyes went wide. "Don't worry, you'll enjoy it too."

The Doctor blinked, nodded, relaxed a little bit. Jack let go of his wrists and he stayed where he was. The skin where Jack had held him was pale, slowly reddening.

"Sit up," Jack ordered, and the Doctor pushed himself up, hands braced on the bed. It brought their bodies back into contact for just a second, until Jack eased off his legs and stood. He circled -- the Doctor followed first with his eyes, then turning his head -- until he could kneel on the bed behind him, thighs framing his hips, arm tight around his waist. The Doctor relaxed, leaning back into him, and only then did Jack grip his chin firmly and turn it forward.

The bedroom had a closet, a sliding-door job, and the doors had mirrors on them. Tall mirrors. Jack felt the Doctor's sharp inhale, the thud of his two hearts.

"Hadn't got a good look at myself yet," the Doctor mumbled, but instead of studying their reflection, he tried to turn away. Jack held his head firmly in place, so his eyes darted around, never quite lighting on their reflection.

"Look," Jack urged, his arm sliding down, fingers brushing his stomach, abdomen, dancing across his thigh. "I'm not going to touch you until you look."

"You are touching -- " the Doctor started to point out, and Jack tightened his fingers on the Doctor's jaw just a little, enough to press his palm against the underside of his chin. The Doctor's words choked off, but he didn't struggle. When Jack relaxed his grip, his eyes roamed again -- nearer, nearer, first on Jack's face visible over his shoulder, then on his own chest, his shoulders, his young face, framed by a sweep of dark hair over his forehead.

"See?" Jack said, rubbing just the heel of his palm against the Doctor's cock -- not as magnificent as some he'd had, frankly, but certainly well-proportioned, flushed and swollen against Jack's fingers. He curled them slowly, mapping the skin, and the Doctor's eyes closed.

"No, look," Jack repeated, and those lovely ancient eyes snapped open again. He closed his fingers and flicked his wrist. The Doctor choked a little, but he kept his eyes open. Jack bit his shoulder gently, hand slow -- up to brush against his head, down to his balls, while his other hand still held the Doctor's jaw. Not that he was even trying to look away now; he was studying his own face in fascination, one hand gripping Jack's arm tightly, the other scrambling for purchase on the bedspread. Jack watched his gaze lower, felt his hips push experimentally. In the mirror, the Doctor's body moved like a fluid thing, trapped in Jack's grip.

"You're beautiful," Jack said, kissing the skin he'd just bitten. "Always have been."

"Jack, I..." the Doctor was staring now, eyes fixed on his cock, the way it slid in and out of Jack's hand.

Jack hushed him, watching them both over his shoulder. "Get a good look," he murmured in the Doctor's ear. "I know I am."

The Doctor arched hard, then, and Jack barely kept his grip.

"That's it," he whispered. "There you are. You like this? Watching yourself fuck my hand?"

The Doctor moaned.

"Come on, tell me. You like it?"

"Yes," the Doctor bit out. "Yes -- "

"Egotist," Jack said, and kissed his ear, and flung himself backwards on the bed. The Doctor fell with him, yelping in surprise, legs flailing. Jack rolled and got him on his stomach, straddling him again.

"Jack, please, just let me -- "

Jack put a hand between his shoulderblades. "Stay down," he growled. The Doctor huffed out a surprise breath, but he kept still. Jack leaned over -- shoved him when he tried to move -- and rummaged in the bedside table. He clenched the cap of the lube in his teeth, unscrewed it, spat the cap out, and let some dribble down on the Doctor's ass. Nice ass. Very nice ass. And long runner's legs.

He took a moment to admire it all, then slid a finger through the lube, spreading slippery cheeks carefully. The Doctor shoved his face into the blankets, breath short and quick. Under his other hand, the Doctor's muscles shifted subtly, tense, then relaxed. Jack pressed a finger against him, working it in slowly.

"Yep," Jack said in a satisfied voice.

"Yep what?" the Doctor demanded impatiently, muffled by the blanket.

"Virgin," Jack grinned, and pushed harder. The Doctor's whole body twitched.

"You are a vengeful, twisted bastard," the Doctor informed him.

"Well, I could always stop," Jack said, and stilled his hand. The Doctor's fingers curled into fists in the blanket.

"Don't stop." His voice, younger than Jack had ever heard it, still held so much authority that he almost obeyed without question. "Stop stopping."

"Since you ask so nicely," Jack said, and pressed a second finger in, next to the first. He curled them a little, and the Doctor pushed back against his hand. Jack gave him just enough room to move, not quite enough to get any real momentum going, and then spread his fingers slowly.

"Rotten, petty -- " the Doctor groaned.

"Perfect, sexy," Jack finished. "You'll thank me."

"When?" the Doctor demanded.

"When I do this," Jack said, and slid a third finger in smoothly. The Doctor groaned and went lax, hips working slowly against the bed. Jack grinned. "Say thank you."

"Shan't," the Doctor retorted, still bucking every time Jack shifted his hand. Jack smacked him lightly on the hip with his other hand and then tugged, pulling him up onto his knees. He took his fingers out, undid his trousers left-handed, and slicked more lube onto his right, stroking himself slowly.

"Jack, now, please, now," the Doctor said, head bowed between his elbows.

"Patience," Jack drawled, but he nudged his cock against the Doctor's ass, watched with delight as the Doctor spread his thighs wider. Slowly, slowly --

The Doctor exhaled like he was coming down from a high. Jack pushed with his hips and bent his back until they were flush together, then closed his eyes.

He reached inwards, searching for it, for the thing he'd found inside himself, the thing he rarely called on because he was afraid of it. But here he had the Doctor and even if the Doctor was begging under him, pleading, the Doctor would protect him.

He kissed the Doctor's neck gently, exhaling it, letting it brush over the Doctor's skin. There was a soft sigh beneath him.

"What was that?" the Doctor asked. "What did you do?"

"Hell if I know," Jack said. "Tingles, doesn't it? I only get it out for special occasions."

The Doctor laughed. "That's not what I hea -- oooooh," he finished, as Jack pulled back a little.

"You are so mouthy in this incarnation," Jack told him, pushing again. The noise the Doctor made was filthy and way beyond hot. Jack flexed his hips and the Doctor did it again.

He moved slowly, long pulls out and sharp thrusts, just to keep the Doctor off-balance. The Doctor cursed him a few more times before he apparently lost track of language entirely and just kept moaning. Jack concentrated on the off-rhythm pleasure of it, the tight heat around his cock, but he did manage to catch the Doctor's wrist when he reached down to touch himself. He tucked it tight against the Doctor's stomach, held it there, and kissed his neck again. Close to the edge, so wonderfully close, he could feel every inch of the Doctor against him, something he'd yearned for, waited for...

"Yes, Jack, yes, I -- I like that -- "

Jack tumbled over into his orgasm almost unexpectedly, jerking to a standstill, panting and sweating and still with one arm tight against the Doctor's. He eased out a little and carefully pulled the Doctor's wrist back, placing it on the bed again.

"No, Jack, you can't!" the Doctor turned frantically as Jack slid away from him, languid and relaxed in the endorphin rush. Jack worked his way up to his mouth and kissed him, the whole world fuzzed around the edges, and while they were kissing he picked up the other thing he'd grabbed from the nightstand.

Snick! went the cuff around the Doctor's wrist, and the chain rattled against the bars of the headboard. The Doctor grunted when he was flipped over onto his back. Snick! around his other wrist.

The Doctor stared at him, eyes glazed, breath shallow, wrists securely trapped above him against the headboard. Jack kissed each wrist gently and then slid off the bed.

"Jack? Where are you going? JACK!" the Doctor roared. "I haven't had an orgasm in four hundred years!"

"Then you can wait five minutes!" Jack called back, washing his hands before poking around in the kitchen. He was sure there was some in here somewhere...

Never let it be said Jack Harkness did not cater to the kinks of his partners, as much as he could in any given circumstance. He took the bowl out of the refrigerator, peeled off the clingfilm on top, and carried it back into the bedroom. The Doctor was squirming, trying to work his wrists out of the cuffs, trying to roll over onto his stomach or get some kind of friction against his cock. Jack set the bowl down on the bedside table and leaned over him, kissing him again.

"Custard," he said, head tilted above the Doctor's.

"What?" the Doctor managed, still wriggling.

"Custard. Stop struggling," Jack ordered, and tipped the bowl. A little custard rolled over the lip of it, landing with a small spatter on the Doctor's left nipple. The Doctor watched Jack's face as he bent and licked it clean, very clean. Jack bit down gently and the Doctor panted. This close to his chest, he could almost hear the frantic heartbeats.

He tipped the bowl again, spattering a little on his right nipple, one splash edging up towards his collarbone. Jack made sure he got up every possible mote of custard with his tongue, enjoying the drag of the Doctor's skin against his mouth. The Doctor writhed.

"You don't have to tell me you like this," Jack said, lapping one last drop from between his clavicles. "I like this-you. You're an open book."

"I'm chained to a headboard!" the Doctor protested, but his voice was ragged and breathless.

"Yeah," Jack said in his ear. The Doctor moaned and tried to move again, but this time it was just instinct, raw need, hips thrusting against the air. "Have some custard," he added, and smeared a line of it across the Doctor's lower lip.

The Doctor stared up at him, closed his eyes, and licked his lip slowly.

"Something you need to learn," Jack said, dipping his thumb in the bowl and pressing it into the Doctor's mouth. He sucked eagerly. "Something you need to learn is that nobody. Ever. Has you at their mercy, if you can -- "

The Doctor's eyes opened, dark and endless, and he rubbed the tip of his tongue across the pad of Jack's thumb. Jack's breath hitched.

" -- make them lose control," he finished, pulling his hand away.

"Have you lost control, Jack?" the Doctor asked softly. Jack swung his legs onto the bed, kneeling, and straddled the Doctor's shoulders.

"I never had it," Jack said, even as the Doctor bent his head and licked across Jack's cock, warm and wet. He wasn't hard, but a second swipe of the Doctor's tongue drew definite interest, and Jack clutched the headboard with one hand. "Not around you."

The Doctor tilted his head back to gaze up at him. "Could've fooled me."

"Con man," Jack pointed out.

"Hm," the Doctor said. "Closer."

Jack grinned and shuffled forward a little. The Doctor flicked his tongue out, licked at Jack's half-hard cock, sucked the head into his mouth. Jack tried not to push too far, keeping himself to shallow jerks, sliding his hands down the headboard's bars to tangle with the Doctor's. When he started to feel himself push deeper, he let go regretfully and sat back, settling lightly on the Doctor's chest.

"So," he said, breathless, "I think we've established you basically like everything."

"Well, must be some trade-offs for being a picky eater," the Doctor informed him. His breath came fast. Jack smiled down at him and rubbed his cheek affectionately with one hand. He was well aware that the Doctor could be on top and in control in about two seconds, if he chose to, but he wasn't sure the Doctor was aware of this. So young, this face, with so much age and pain behind it. And yet here he was, writhing and begging and laughing.

Jack reached for the lube and slicked his fingers, leaning over the Doctor to rest his hand on the headboard again as he prepared himself -- fast and a little painful, but he didn't need that much, and --

The Doctor nuzzled Jack's thigh, eyes closed, lashes brushing over his skin. Jack looked down in surprise. Sex he expected, and sex after all was a lot of rubbing and licking and interlocking, but this was...touch for the sake of touch, touch that didn't especially stimulate or quicken. Not something he even allowed himself to want from the Doctor, whose last incarnation could barely stand to be in the same room with him. He froze and stayed that way, watching, fascinated. The Doctor kissed the inside of his thigh and looked up at him, almost a challenge.

"Take the handcuffs off, Jack," he said softly, and Jack reached for the keys. He undid the cuffs one-handed, and the Doctor claimed his hand and pressed it around his own wrist. Jack moved his thumb slowly, rubbing circulation back into the flesh there. The Doctor reached up with his other hand and traced his fingers down Jack's body, straying along lines of muscle occasionally, stopping at the curved dip where waist met leg. He pushed -- not back, but up -- and Jack raised to his knees, allowing the Doctor to pull himself up to a sitting position, Jack straddling his lap. The Doctor smiled in mischief and bent forward to kiss Jack's chest, square in the middle, a little below his heart. Jack choked on the noise he desperately didn't want to make in case it betrayed him.

The Doctor kept kissing him, tugging lightly on his hips until Jack got the message and lowered himself slowly. When he bent back to take the Doctor's cock, the Doctor swayed forward; by the time they were joined, the Doctor was holding him in place, kissing his throat, and Jack pressed his face to the Doctor's soft hair. It smelled of smoke and chlorine.

The Doctor began to move, as much as he could, hips rising and falling, and Jack tried to match his rhythm, leverage giving him an advantage. Everywhere the Doctor touched felt hot: sharp jabs of sensation that followed his palms up Jack's hips, traced with his mouth along Jack's shoulder. The Doctor was gasping, muttering into his skin, encouragements -- yes, there, like that Jack, it's all right, I won't let you fall, you taste so good. This wasn't tolerant touch for the sake of the pleasure Jack could give. It was body contact, desire, want-need-yes. And it was for him.

Jack jerked forward and nearly knocked them over, coming so hard his vision whited out. He heard the Doctor moan loudly against his skin and felt the uneven rhythm of his orgasm, managed to get his arms around the Doctor's shoulders and ride it out while the Doctor cursed and sobbed into his chest.

He eased himself down eventually, lifting the Doctor's chin with one hand, studying his face. It looked...serene. Happy, even. The other Doctors had never looked like that, certainly not for him, because of him.

"Thank you, Ja -- "

"Shhh, hush," Jack interrupted, kissing him. He was tired and the Doctor seemed a little out of it, pliable and loose, but they kissed for just about forever before Jack pulled back and slid further down, resting one ear against the Doctor's chest. He felt a hand rubbing his hair affectionately, heard the double heartbeat.

"I'm so sorry about before," the Doctor murmured. "So sorry, Jack. You've no idea. He was so -- angry and self-righteous, hiding guilt behind godhead...if it's any consolation I've certainly had my comeuppance."

Jack rubbed his cheek against damp skin. "I didn't want that," he replied. "I love you. Every kind of you."

"I know," the Doctor replied. "I wish you didn't, to be honest."

"Me too," Jack sighed and sat up, tucking the memory of that moment away to treasure. The Doctor regarded him, frowning.

"I don't think I like pillow-talk," he announced. Jack laughed.

"Some of it can be nice," he said. "But we don't have to."

"Well. I am curious," the Doctor said, and then gave him a small smile.

"About?" Jack grinned, anticipating some new kink.

"How precisely you're going to explain this to your boyfriend."

Jack stared at him, then chuckled. "Why does he have to know?"

"Well," the Doctor grunted, easing down into the pillows and resting his arms behind his head, "unless I'm mistaken, we've just finished having sex in his bed and utterly ruining his custard."

"Closest place with a locking door," Jack told him, sliding down as well, keeping as much skin as possible in contact. "He won't mind."

"You seem pretty confident of that."

"By the time he knows..." Jack began, tracing a finger along the Doctor's profile, forehead-nose-lips. The Doctor sneezed, and Jack cracked up laughing.

"By the time he knows?" the Doctor prompted, looking irritated. Jack grinned and rested his hand on the Doctor's stomach instead.

"By the time he knows, you'll be gone," he said. "And he'll know that I stayed here for him. To him, the rest is irrelevant. It's pretty powerful, knowing someone gave up time and space for you. And he's feisty when he's annoyed, anyway."

The Doctor smiled. "Shall I make it a formal offer?"

Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Come with me in the TARDIS, Jack. We've all of time and space to try anything you like."

Jack composed his face with serious dignity. "Thank you, Doctor, but I have to decline."

"Well, if you insist." The Doctor turned onto his side. "Ready for round two?"

"Three for me, and no," Jack said, yawning.

"Ja-aaack -- "

"Look, you won't actually go blind if you handle it yourself," Jack said. "I'm older than you, I need some time."

The Doctor looked put out, but he flipped over onto his back again and stretched his shoulders, cracking his neck. He turned to Jack.

"Care to watch?"

Jack nodded, indulgent, and took pleasure in the Doctor's delighted face. After a few sleepy minutes, he stretched out his arm and twined his fingers with the Doctor's, their hands the only point of contact, wrapped around his cock. The Doctor exhaled, a sparkle of gold on his lips, and Jack propped himself on his elbow to lick it away. Couldn't hurt him, after all.

"You know how I knew it was you?" Jack asked in his ear. The Doctor made a soft little cry. "When you walked up to me in the middle of the café?"

The Doctor shook his head, trembling, the muscles cording in his arm.

"I've been picked up by a lot of people in cafés," Jack continued conversationally, licking the shell of the Doctor's ear. "Very few have done it by complimenting my suspenders."

"Braces," the Doctor corrected, through his teeth.

"Not from around here," Jack reminded him.

"So?" the Doctor gasped.

"So you," Jack said, moving his hand faster, forcing the Doctor's as well, "are completely incompetent," the Doctor stiffened and threw his head back, "at pretending to be normal."

The Doctor came, glorious to see, gold on his lips, come on his hand. Jack raised his knuckles to his mouth and licked them.

"You taste like iron," he said. The Doctor turned to look at him.

"Do I?" he asked, lapping experimentally at his fingers. "Hm. Not bad."

Jack kissed his shoulder. "Unless you want my unusually understanding but tolerance has its limits boyfriend to catch you here, you should go soon."

The Doctor nodded. "Yep. Got an appointment with a young woman, myself."

"Well, go ye forth, old son," Jack drawled. He watched as the Doctor rose, cleaned himself up, found his clothing ("Those are my suspenders, not yours." "Braces!") and dressed. When the bow tie was knotted -- a spot of damp where Jack had bitten it -- he came to the edge of the bed and studied Jack carefully.

"You'll see me again," he said.

"Promise or prophecy?" Jack asked.

"Both." A sweet kiss, and the Doctor leaned back. "I'm sorry, Jack. G'bye."

Jack waited until he was gone, then stretched languidly and closed his eyes. Half an hour would give him enough sleep to recover and put him back at the Hub just in time for dinner.

END

Author's Endnote: While writing this, I had it in a googledoc that I sent to a few people for editing. At the time it was just called "Jack/Eleven Porn (unfinished)". A little while later I got the following email:

Meanwhile, you should know that "Jack/Eleven Porn (unfinished)" email popped up in my gmail just as my boss was hovering over me this afternoon.
"Are you getting porn in your email?????"
"That's actually not what it---"
"Gmail needs better spam filters!"
"Uh, yeah!!!"
"If they are so stupid as to put 'porn' in the subject line, they should realise people won't open the email...!"
"Right..."

So I renamed it "Jack/Eleven ICE CREAM (unfinished)".

I should learn to be more circumspect.

Comments

[drgaellon]

Is that Bradley James in your icon?

[tetsubinatu.livejournal.com]

Yes it is!