Doctor Who Slash

[munnin]

Title: Late nights and early mornings

Author: Munnin

Characters: Ninth Doctor / Jack
Rating: R

Notes/Disclaimer: I make no money and do this only for the need to get it out of my head. Doctor Who characters belong to the BBC not me. No money, right!

I hear him in the doorway and don’t bother to look around. Neither of us sleeps much anymore. I don’t because of the nightmares but somehow I doubt he’s ever slept a full night in all his 900 years. Unlike Rose, who sleeps like the dead.

 

It has become a habit for us both. Floating round the Tardis like this at night, so to know he’s there is no great shock. And he always knows where to find me. Since coming here I’ve been fascinated by the mechanics of this beautiful ship. So intricate and complex and yet so indefinably elegant. Even if she is temperamental. It’s strange. Ships are always considered female but the Tardis is the first one I have ever known, and known beyond doubt that this is true. She’s almost…well, I guess human’s the wrong word but sentient certainly.    

 

I rest my hands the console. She’s almost warm to the touch but then I realise it’s not her but another’s warmth I feel. The Doctor’s right behind me. His leather jacket creaks as he reaches out to touch my hand.

 

“You love her.” More statement that question.

 

“Yes.” I whisper with no other answer to give.

 

He draws my hands together and covers them with his own, his hard chest pressed to my back. “She returns your love. If she didn’t, you would never be allowed to stay.”

 

I bite back a spiteful comment about her being the only one. After all it’s hardly true. But there is no challenge in Rose. She is sweet and far too innocent for my taste and would be too easily won. But for all my charm, my cunning and my determination; the Doctor has shown no interest. I have begun to fear I’ve lost my touch and now my persisting hope is drifting to despair. Even bitterness maybe.

 

Perhaps that’s why I misunderstand when he grabs my wrists in his large hand and pulls them forward, forcing me to lean into the console. I push my shoulders back against him, braced to throw off his weight but his mouth is at my neck.

 

“Isn’t this what you want Jack?” He whispers as he trails hot kisses up my throat. “Isn’t this what you’ve wanted all along?” He bites at my earlobe, dragging it viciously between his teeth.

 

I have no breath to answer him but we both know it’s true. I have courted his anger so many times. Just to see the fire in his eyes. To see his true face behind the jester smile. His free hand is under my shirt, exploring my chest, dragging his fingers through my chest hairs and squeezing my nipples in turn till I whimper with need.

 

For one who has seemingly taken no notice, he plays me with practiced ease. Drawing each touch out almost beyond bearing. He yanks hard on my sleeve, almost tearing my tee-shirt and lunges at the exposed skin of my shoulder. Biting so hard I can already feel it bruise. His fingers find my belt and fly. The clatter of the buckle on the hard floor echoes across the room. We both freeze for fear of waking Rose but at this late hour, she’s dead to the world.

 

He kicks the instep of my foot, forcing my legs apart. I stumble and almost lose my balance but his hand is still tight around my wrists, holding me in place. His hand trails spirals over the curves of my lower back, thumb dipping low to the crevice of my ass.

 

But no further.

 

I can feel him hesitate, uncertainly rippling through him and for the first time I realise he is unsure. But not of himself. He’s unsure of me. His halting stillness asks a thousand silent questions. For approval. For consent. For forgiveness perhaps. What can I take? What can I give?

 

I answer without words. Words are beyond me now, arching my shoulders against his chest, pressing back into his embrace. Take me. Touch me. A moan escapes his lips as the heat of my naked skin burns through his jeans.

 

He releases my hands and spins me to face him, his visage smoky with lust and again; he hesitates, contrition in his eyes. I feel something hot trickle down my chest and realise for the first time that his bite broke the skin and I’m bleeding. I squirm to shed my now stained shirt, tossing it aside and lean back, hands braced on the console edge. I let my head fall back, exposing my naked throat to him, offering myself up to him.

 

He wavers for a moment, desire and regret warring in him, making him clutch at my shoulders to balance; one thumb smearing the blood trail over my skin. I take his hand, pressing the wet digit to my lips and licking away the salty stain before taking it into my mouth, pressing his open hand to my cheek. The last of his resolve fails and he grabs my hair, wrenching my head to one side so that he can lap at the broken skin.

 

No hesitation this time as he reclaims his thumb and works it firmly between my cheeks. The burn makes me gasp and rock against him but with each steady stroke I relax into his thrusts even as he replaces his thumb with long fingers. He rests his head on my shoulder now slick with blood and spit, moaning as I clench around his fingers.

 

Steadying myself with one hand I reach for his fly with the other. Abruptly he has my arm twisted behind my back and his blooded lips close around my own, open in welcoming. The taste of him burns my senses, smoke and spices, the thick metallic taste of my own blood. And something familiar and uniquely him.

 

He draws back only slightly, his breath heavy on my skin. “I have nothing to ease the pain.”

 

I close my eyes in acknowledgement. I ask no concession and accept all as it is given but his hand catches my chin, tilting it up to meet his eyes, something akin to hope glistening in their shadowy depths. I feel his hands on my shoulders and smile in understanding as he takes my place against the console and I drop to my knees. In a graceless rush I unbuckle and unbutton, closing my mouth around him even before the fabric hits the floor. He grabs the console with an almost wounded groan as I lavish his member, exploring him from crown to base. His hands tangle in my short hair. Guiding. Controlling. Commanding.

 

With a steady rhythm I let my teeth scrape the vein in the underside of his cock and his fingers tighten. Too far! I can feel shudders of barely controlled emotions rip through his lean body. For a moment I doubt the wisdom of my actions and move to release him but his hands close tight around my head, brooking no escape. His breathing comes in ragged gasps as he thrusts himself into my mouth. I fight not to gag as I open my throat to him, accepting his full length. Now fully sheathed he halts, filling my airway and staying my breath, his hands pressed hard on the back of my head allow no movement. He knows I can’t breathe. He knows I am at his mercy. He is lord here and no other will have dominion.

 

And I know it too.

 

I let my arms fall from his hips and relax into his grasp. Grey spots fill my vision but still I don’t struggle. Submissive as a supplicant before the altar I give myself to him. The darkness of the room drags at me and I start to lose myself to it…falling weightlessly into the night.

 

Light explodes into my sight. I fall to my hands, pressing my forehead to the cool of the floor as he enters me. My body taut as a bow string as each thrust drives me to the edge. Brutal and frenzied, he buffets me. My breath and his play out a shattering rhythm of lust and pain. Ragged and gasping, stars fill my world as climax claims me. His tempo falters as he too falls to release.

 

We drop together to the cool TARDIS floor and as late night turns to early morning, he pulls my arms around him and in my embrace; weeps like a child.