FIC: Dancing Lessons 7/33

[loveslashangst]

Story: Dancing Lessons
Author: Melinda Kitty melindakitty
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Captain Jack Harkness, Rose Tyler;
Rated: oh, so Adult for slash, bisexuality, mature content, language, violence, and lots and lots of sex (multiple pairings/groupings)
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, 'cause if I did there would have been no parting of the ways, Rose would be happy and walking funny, and a love of tech isn't the only thing Nine and Jack would be sharing.
Spoilers: AU. If you haven't seen the first three series of Doctor Who, you may be spoilered. I like to mess with canon.
Summary: By popular request: OT3 Nine/Jack/Rose. One of Jack's exes is out for a bit of revenge. Can the Doctor and Rose figure a way to rescue him before he has to pay the piper? Watch for fancy footwork, a bit of intrigue, occasional plot, and a large excuse for love and smut.

This may well be my fav sex scene I've written ever. Dunno what it is about the boys, but they're just hawt. In fact, they're hawt enough that we'll continue the smut into the next chapter.

Maxixe: Though marketed as the “Brazilian Tango” to capitalize on the more famous Argentine dance, this fast-paced, high-spirited two-step is highly adaptable and can be done to many different kids of music.

Vernon Castle (MODERN DANCING, 1914) quips, “The steps themselves are not difficult; on the contrary, they are childishly simple; it is the easiest dance of all to do, and I think the hardest of all to do well."

(Nine is music to Jack’s mouth.)



Smiling, the Doctor snogs Jack again.

Slowly. Seekingly. As deeply as he’s wanted to. It’s a mad jumble of emotions. Fearwantneedsexlovegratitudefear. He wants. He’s always wanted. And Jack kisses him like he’s the most beautiful person in the universe. Like he can’t get enough. (This can’t be real, but damned if he’s going to wake up from this dream too soon.)

Jack pulls away, smiling. Takes the Doctor’s hand. Kisses the palm. Jerks his head toward the door. “C’mon.”

“Where to?” But he follows gladly.

Jack winks as leads them around a corner. “The lavatory.”

He’s amused in spite of himself. “Smell of piss a turn on for you?”

“Nope.” Jack pushes open the door to the men’s loo. Checks under the doors. “Savoy’s famous for its cleanliness.”

He takes an experimental whiff. Not half bad. A bit of bleach and a hint of perfumes and aftershave.

Jack pulls him into the far stall. Locks the door. “Now, where were we?”

His hearts beat triple time as Jack presses him to the wall. (Forward bugger, that boy. And thank God for it!)

Lovely how Jack leans into the kiss with his whole body. Lovelier still how he slides against him in a way that takes the Doctor’s breath away. Even through the layers of clothing, he can feel the HEAT of the lad. (Frotting. It’s been ages since he had a decent frot.)

“But,” he manages with the part of his brain that still functions. “Rose?”

Jack nods understanding. Slowly grinds up his thigh. (He is in so much trouble.) “She went away mad, right?”

Hurts to think about. (And Jack feels so good.) “Rub it in, why don’t you?”

Jack’s hands slide over his waist. Up his back. Tease along his ribcage. Whisper over the muscles of his abdomen. (Whatever he was thinking can wait.)

“Rose is as hot-tempered as you are,” Jack says. “She’ll need time to cool off before I can make her see reason. So in the meantime...” He unbuckles the Doctor’s belt. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a very long time.”

He bites back a sob of lust. Tries to look severe. “You shouldn’t...”

“I know.” Jack grins. “That’s why it’s fun.” When he tries to object, Jack kisses him quiet. (Strange how the lad can go from intense to cocky to sincere in a trice.)

“Once I’ve finished with you,” Jack continues, “I’ll go after Rose. Talk her down. Fix things.” The lad’s gaze is level, his eyes dark with determination. “Trust me, Doctor; you’ll like the mood she’ll be in when I send her back to you.”

“Thank you.” (Half a moment, this is Jack we’re talking.) “Wait. You’re not going to...”

Jack gives him an amused glare. “I AM capable of solving problems without sex, you know.”

He cocks an eyebrow at the boy. “Evidence to the contrary?”

Jack sobers. “I give you my word of honour that I will not take off a stitch of clothing. Nor will I cheat.” He smiles. “Trust me, Doctor, if I ever get lucky enough to have the chance to be with you AND Rose, I’ll want to be invited.”

“Fair enough.” Deep inhale of breath. “I...” (Want you so much I can’t think of anything else even though I should ask about Trouble and why she decked you and where Rose’s gotten to and who’s after you and half a dozen other things...)

Jack saves him from his thoughts with a sweet, tender kiss. There’s a slight roughness to the boy’s tongue. Like a cat. Good thing he likes cats.

Eyes locked with the his, Jack slides The Doctor’s trousers over his hips. He shivers. In a good way. Good shivers.

This. Jack wants this. And he wants this. (Rose’ll kill him if she finds out, but it might be worth a regeneration.) His hearts speed in anticipation. FearlustdesireneeddammitmanjustDOIT!

“Anything I should know before I begin?” Jack purrs. That slight smile at the edge of his mouth. Wanting. Rose looked at him that way. (Matched set they are, even in this.) But, strange as it may sound, Jack is safer. Fewer expectations. Fewer complications. No damn family. No strings. (Though he’d love strings. Or ropes. Or maybe handcuffs.)

The knowing hand teases the waistband of his boxer briefs. That effortless sparkle is back in Jack’s eyes. God help him, he’s never wanted a man like this. Jack leans forward. Brushes his lips with his own. (Heat. So easy to forget how much warmer humans are.)

“Any surprises in here?” Jack purrs.

“Yes, actually.” He swallows hard. Recovers his voice. “Prostate’s internal in humans. Is in a lot of bipedal males.”

Jack chuckles. “This better not turn into a comparative lecture on alien anatomy.”

He shakes his head no. “I’ll keep it brief. Time Lords are different than humans. We have...” He fumbles for the right words. “Centre of pleasure is close as I can get to the phrase.”

Jack looks fascinated. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

He’d laugh if he weren’t nervous and aroused and two seconds away from bolting. This. He’s seriously considering this. With Jack. He takes a deep breath. Takes Jack’s hand. Slips it into his boxer briefs. Watches the lad’s face as he guides the hand down. Fingertips brush his length. (Dear GOD, he wants that too.) Reach lower. There, at the base.

The look on Jack’s face is priceless. Wonder. Confusion. Fascination. A bit of uncertainty. (That’s right, lad. I’m not human.) The touch sucks all the cocky right out of him. The boy slips surprisingly gentle fingers into the folds. A flood of sensations rocks the Doctor to the core. He throws his head back, forgetting the wall, and nearly knocks himself out.

Jack has the decency not to laugh at him. “Are you okay?”

He nods. Rubs the back of his head. (Smarts, that does.) “Just peachy, thanks.”

A shiver runs up and down him as Jack caresses. Experiments. Makes him forget everything save how much he wants... He gives the lad an uncertain look.

Jack seems to be both fascinated and pleased. “Best of both worlds.”

“Best of ALL worlds,” he corrects.

“Cheeky.” Jack grins.

Jack’s kiss is sweet. His caress sweeter. The air begins to crackle around them. (Temporal energy does that. One good come might well short out everything electrical in the place if they’re not careful.)

“Gentle or rough?” Jack purrs against his lips.

The thought sends a sweet shiver through him. “Gentle, please. Delicate equipment.”

“Understood.” A tender, seeking snog. Jack’s hand becomes very knowing very quickly, though. (Lad deserves every word of his bad reputation.) Jack’s other hand grasps his cock. Slides. Teases. Matches pace with the first hand.

The Doctor leans against the wall, dizzy with pleasure and desire. (If he’s not careful, he’ll lose his footing.) Close. Closer. The air charges with temporal energy, a moment holding its breath. (Rassilon’s toenails, the boy could finish him like this.)

And like that, everything stops. He moans, half-finished. Glares. Jack grins. “And now for the good part.”

He kneels with aching slowness, his eyes never leaving the Doctor’s.

If the Doctor were thinking clearly, he’d say something witty and clever. As it is, all he can do is stare and try not to gibber. “You...?”

Jack’s grin widens. “Honey, if we had time I’d do much more than just this, but as it is...” He pauses. “Before I unwrap you, you don’t have any spikes or tentacles or weird things I should know about?”

“No.” Sweat beads his brow. He presses his palms to the wall, glad for the cool stone. His whole body goes rigid with anticipation. “Pretty similar to human.” (How can his voice be so bloody calm?)

He’s shaking hard as Jack slips the boxer briefs down. The Doctor holds his breath. Closes his eyes. Waits. And then anything resembling coherent thought vanishes as the heat of Jack’s mouth envelops him. The Doctor bites back a sob.

Pleasure ripples up and down his body. Sizzles over his skin. A hand teases the most sensitive spot in his folds. A knowing mouth caresses the length of him. Draws. Pulls back. A tease of tongue at the head. Jack draws him deeply. The tightness at the back of Jack’s throat is heavenly. (The Doctor might be breathing. He might not. His hearts have stopped, that’s for damn sure.)

And it’s also for damn sure that Jack knows what the hell he’s doing. The Doctor bites his lip until he tastes blood. If he lets go now, he’ll scream bloody murder in time to the rhythm of Jack’s mouth and oh dear God in heaven it’s worth it. It’s worth whatever price he has to pay. Rose will kill him and even though he loves her he loves Jack too and he loves THIS and doesn’t care what it costs because Jack makes him feel and oh YES PLEASE JUST LIKE THAT!

Jack’s hand is hard at his hip. The Doctor thrusts forward in spite of himself. (Bad etiquette, that. If he were thinking clearly ... ohhhhhhhh.) Jack purrs encouragement. Breathless, the Doctor thrusts gently, moving to the rhythm Jack started. Dares to thread his fingers through Jack’s hair. (Soft hair. Beautiful as the rest of him.) Jack draws him deeper still. (Didn’t think that was possible.)

He cradles Jack’s head in his hands. Moves with him. Loses himself as the hand in his folds find just the right place. Tendrils of temporal energy pulse around them in glittering gold wisps. Building... Building...

He forces the scream of ecstasy into a whispered exhale. Golden energy explodes outward. (The French call orgasm “the little death”. Never quite so true as with a Time Lord.)

All the lights on the floor go out.

Jack drinks greedily. Licks him clean with a few final swipes of that beautifully textured tongue. The Doctor shudders sweetly. Wonders for a moment if the boy’s noticed the room’s gone dark.

Slowly, that hot, heavenly mouth pulls away. Jack chuckles. Stands.

“Well, damn.” The comment is followed by a rather unseemly belch. “Hmmm.” Jack muses. “Bubbly.”

Jack’s lips brush his. “Effervescent come and an orgasm that shorts out the lights. Doctor, you are full of surprises.”

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Crossposted to time_and_chips and better_with_3