A Teaspoon And An Open Mind: A Doctor Who Fan Fiction Archive
Ninth Doctor
Ice Bucket by AND [Reviews - 8] Printer


And on the third day, Jack shagged Rose. While that was probably an excruciatingly long period of celibacy for Jack, the Doctor privately thought that Rose might have held out a little bit longer if she hadn't gotten tired of the Doctor actually dancing with her whenever she asked him to "dance." Ever since then, they'd been spending their nights together.

Admittedly, there was no true day or night in the time vortex. The TARDIS just cycled its lighting up and down to establish a rhythm to help define personal time. Susan had set it to Earth standard a long time ago, so that she could better blend in with her adopted homeworld. The Doctor usually spent most of the extra dark hours reading. Recently he'd been spending them staring at the ceiling and thinking about sexuality.

Despite what Rose thought — and where did she get off thinking that he didn't have a sex drive or a gender? — he wasn't a virgin. It's just that his people didn't have that human obsession. When your lifespan is measured in millennia, getting it on all the time just wasn't that important. By Time Lord standards, once or twice a decade was for over-hormonal adolescents. On the whole, he'd rather spend his energy exploring, but when he really wanted release, he'd found ways, and when he could, he'd found members of his own species.

But now… now he was the last of his kind, and even if he kept going through regenerations as quickly as he was, he could still expect to live around another 300 years at a minimum. Even if he didn't particularly care whether he had sex in the near future, the idea of never having it again as long as he lived was depressing.

Rose had made it very clear that she was interested. That had been… unexpected. Usually he'd been able to forestall his human companions from seeing him that way by establishing a more paternal style of relationship with them. However, that backfired badly with Rose. With her father dead, her mother dead useless, and her boyfriend a willing slave, she was used to being the alpha female of her tiny clan. Add that to her coming from a relatively sexually open society, and she was ready and willing.

Which led the Doctor to wonder if he was really all that willing. The very fact that he was attracted to her was a sign of the damage he'd sustained during the war. She'd been the first life he'd trusted himself with after all the death, the first friend he'd made after he'd been cosmically orphaned. He needed her in a way that disturbed him badly, and for that reason alone he was afraid to get even closer to her. If they did this, if he fell deeper in love with her, what would he do when she left? They always left, and it always broke his hearts when they did.

Jack was a possibility. Although the Doctor's only previous experience with other males was from that very drunken and only half-remembered weekend at the Academy, if he was going to step out of his comfort zone in the first place, what was another step across another line? Jack certainly knew what he was doing and wouldn't become emotionally attached. Coming from the time period that he did, Jack wasn't just a possibility; he was a probability. He'd been flirting with the Doctor all along, and sooner or later was going to make a serious play for him, just to see what happened. One night there would be a knock on the door…

…Just like that one.

"You're about a week and a half earlier than I expected," the Doctor muttered, getting up. When he opened it, Jack was leaning against the wall, wearing only trousers and a smile.

"Knackered Rose, have you?" the Doctor grunted.

Jack shrugged, undaunted. "She knows I'm here."

"Really? And what does she think about it?"

"If I'm successful, I'm under strict orders to tell her what you're like and if you prefer men."

"Figures you'd kiss and tell! You're that sure you're going to be successful?" the Doctor sniffed.

"I hope I will be. It's not right that we be having all the fun while you're alone." Jack was suddenly serious. "You shouldn't be. You don't have to be alone."

I'm not falling for that I-feel-your-angst routine, thank you. Well, it's a new experience, Doctor, and you like sampling new experiences. Still, there were some mechanics to consider. "I'm a lot cooler than your body temperature, that sound like fun to you?"

"I'll try anything once. But I wasn't sure it might be fun for you, so I had an idea."

"Oh?"

Jack held up an ice bucket. It was full, condensation dripping off its sides.

"You're going to make me even colder?"

"Allow me to demonstrate." Jack popped a piece of ice in his mouth, sucked on it for a moment — never breaking eye contact with the Doctor — then very slowly slid it back between his lips, closed the last distance between them, and snogged him. It was a fleeting, gentle kiss, with lips that felt almost Gallifreyan. On the second kiss Jack was getting more aggressive. By the third, a cool tongue swept across his lips and the Doctor… almost let him in.

Startled and not quite sure, the Doctor pulled back instead.

"It's okay," Jack said softly, but he didn't pursue. That's one thing the Doctor had to give him credit for — Jack never crossed any line that others drew. He flirted and cajoled, but never pushed. Not with Rose, not with him. Jack stayed where he was, waiting patiently, watching.

The Doctor wavered. Hypothetical constructions in the privacy of his own room were one thing; actually screwing his courage to the sticking point was another — much less screwing or sticking anything else. For a moment he hung on the edge of indecision. Doing stupid, impulsive things was always your strong suit, Doctor. He blurted, "Where's Rose?"

Jack looked surprised but answered calmly, "In her room. She's awake, if you want to have her join the fun." His smile turned rueful. "Or if you'd prefer I give the ice bucket to her."

If I'm going to lose my xeno-virginity, I'm going to go all the way. Both ways. I'm not going to be in a competition with my companions over each other's attentions.

"Give me that bucket. And follow me."

Jack did both, trailing after him delightedly.

The Doctor knocked and burst right in before she could say anything. "Rose!"

"Doctor!" She was wearing very tight, very skimpy undies, and had been reading a magazine. Shock warred with interest and a little aloofness while she tried to decide if she was thrilled to have him there or angry he'd come bounding in like that.

He grinned at her. "Jack tells me that you're interested in…" The right words failed him suddenly.

"Don't you say dancing!" Rose warned. "I like dancing but that's not what I've been meaning and you know it!"

"I do." Now the Doctor was advancing step by meaningful step, as Jack leaned in the doorway and watched. "Things have been pretty warm between you and Jack."

Her smile took them both in. "Yeah." She smiled at him, purring. "I'd like them to get warmer."

The Doctor grinned more maniacally. "Hot, even?"

Her own smile amped up in response. She leaned back, showing off her breasts, dandling a leg over the side of the bed. "All kinds of hot and bothered." She took a deep breath and both men watched what it did to her chest. "I think I need a Doctor to help me out."

The Doctor's expression was positively seraphic. "I have just the thing!"

And he threw the contents of the ice bucket on her.

It was a really impressive scream. After all these years and all those companions, the Doctor considered himself something of a connoisseur in the vocalizations of the hysterical human female. Until tonight he would have pegged Rose as a middleweight, but that first shriek would have done Mel proud, and the two subsequent ones were on a par with Victoria. Right as the Doctor wondered if she was going to hyperventilate, Rose got her second wind.

She also got a handful of ice off the bed and a wicked gleam in her eye. The Doctor backed away, which unfortunately put him too close to Captain Jack -- who promptly put him into a half nelson and spit an ice cube down the back of his neck. You rat! Where did you get that? While the Doctor writhed, Rose shoved her handful down the front of his jumper, taking a rather malicious pleasure in grinding it into his skin. With a move that was somewhere between a shiver and a slither, the Doctor broke free, shook the ice out from the bottom of his jumper, and grabbed at Rose. She tried to duck and might have made it, but it wasn't that large of a space. The Doctor got her by the back of the camisole, hauled her against the full length of his body, and cradled her head in one hand while he tucked her hair behind an ear with the other.

"Rose," he whispered, nuzzling along the rim of that ear. "Rose, there's something I want to tell you."

"Yeah?" Cold and excitement had made her breasts peak; proximity was pressing them against his chest as she panted. "What?"

The Doctor pulled her head so close that his lips were brushing her. "Jack's the only one who hasn't been covered in ice yet."

She gave him a wary look out of the corner of her eye, but he could see her starting to smirk as well. When he was sure she was with him, he let go and they both turned on Jack, who laughed and dodged. He flung himself into a tuck and roll over the bed, coming up with a double handful of ice. The Doctor and Rose dived for their own ammunition, and the war was on.

It was a game with very complex rules, or maybe no rules at all; they clutched and tumbled and laughed like children. Rose was stalking both men with ice; Jack kept letting her catch him only to lick, nibble, or tickle his way out of trouble. If he was really lucky, he'd get her to distractedly drop the ice on herself. The Doctor was avoiding capture, a job made a great deal more difficult when the TARDIS slammed the door shut when he tried to escape into the corridor. Jack was making strafing runs at everyone's clothing; he and Rose were naked by now and the Doctor was down to just his trousers, which he'd had to do back up half a dozen times just to make the chase last longer.

Pillows had gotten into this at some point as both weapons and shields; a particularly hard-flung one had burst in the Doctor's face. Batting the fog of feathers out of the way, he saw Rose kneeling on the bed -- no, not kneeling, pinned. Jack was behind her, his arms clamping hers along her sides and holding her in place. She was making squeaky noises of protest that would have been a lot more convincing if she wasn't also giggling somewhat nervously.

Coming cautiously closer, the Doctor saw that Jack had balanced a rapidly-melting icecube on the tip of his tongue, running both ice and tongue slowly up Rose's spine and along the back of her neck. "It's cold, it's cold, it's cold!" she wailed. "Doctor, make him stop!"

Suddenly sad, the Doctor knelt on the bed in front of her, reaching to cradle her face again. "I’m cold, Rose. Do you really want me touching you like this?"

He'd hardly finished asking the question before she'd smiled broadly up at him, turning to kiss his palm. He wondered if she even realized she'd also arched her back and spread her knees, displaying herself. That was an unmistakable answer, even if the air wasn't getting thick with the scent of a highly aroused female. Humans were such predators — he'd half wondered if they'd work out all their energy in the game, but all the pouncing and chasing had only gotten both of them more excited.

Jack was nuzzling along the other side of his hand, gently nipping at the back of his fingers, before settling down to suck on his pinkie. Rose started in on his thumb. The Doctor tried to pull away, but Jack wrapped a firm hand around his wrist. Rose, freed, captured the Doctor's neck and pulled his face to hers for a deep kiss. The Doctor shut his eyes and opened his mouth, finally surrendering to them. Rose was all lemon tea and impetuosity, a nimble tongue darting everywhere as she giggled triumphantly. Jack was slower and dominatingly self-assured, with the tingling afterburn of alcohol. For a timeless while they passed him back and forth and for once in his lives he let the companions be the boss of him.

It felt… good. It had been so many empty years since he'd had the company of someone interested in him. The Doctor startled himself by moaning into Jack's mouth, earning a chuckle and an even deeper tonguing. They were so alive. Warm and vital and alive, and he had been so lonely, the last Time Lord in the last TARDIS. Things had started going right when Rose came along, he'd taken an interest in living again, and Jack was a lucky charm, that adventure in London was the first time ever that everybody lived, everything had gone right, and nothing had gone wrong since. The Doctor wrapped an arm around each of them and crushed them close, for a moment afraid to let loose and be spinning alone and unlucky in space and time again. Stay, he thought at them not wanting to break the moment with words, Stay and let me just hold you a minute, I need that.

But they could not read his mind, so they would not stay. First Jack, then Rose wriggled free, intent on their victory. Four hot human hands roamed over his skin, petting, stroking, tweaking a nipple or clutching a bicep. Warm, wet tongues invaded his mouth, tickled along his ear, stroked up his chest and… WHAT WAS THAT? Oh. Jack and that thing he was doing to Rose with the icecube and the… moving up his neck now and the…the… that's nice… nuzzling along the bottom of his hairline until he shivered, and not from cold. Jack chuckled again and licked a broad path along the muscle from shoulder to neck. The Doctor cocked his head to give him room; Jack took the invitation and bit down, not too hard, gulping in air along the wet skin. The Doctor practically shouted.

"Innit just wunnerful when he does that?" Rose purred in an ear before she nipped sharply at the earlobe.

"You like that, eh?" the Doctor muttered back. "You humans with your silly mating rituals." He nuzzled into the soft skin below her ear, running his nose along the muscle before trying the same maneuver. Rose burst into throaty laughter. Jack slid back around from behind the Doctor to Rose's other side, catching his eye. A mutual grin, a slight nod, and then they were working in tandem on her, two tongues and two sets of teeth along her neck, two hands with a breast each before the mouths moved lower. Rose thrashed and groaned and grabbed at them, pulling them closer, curling over them as they knelt on the bed before her. Jack's hand moved lower still, sliding with slow, tickling inevitability across her stomach and between her legs. The more frantic she got, the slower he got. By the time he got a few fingers into her, she'd been bucking and begging for it for several minutes.

Still sucking and nibbling away, shoulder to shoulder with Jack, the Doctor reached over. If there's one thing a bloke gets a whole lot of practice doing when he travels without that kind of a partner for centuries… Jack couldn't say much, his mouth being quite full of Rose's breast at the moment, but he made a very appreciative noise when the Doctor got a firm grip on him, noises that got more and more appreciative as the Doctor pumped him to a joyful, messy climax. Grinning like a maniac, Jack turned from Rose to capture the Doctor's face in both hands, leaning in for a long, passionate kiss.

"Good thing there's all this melting ice around, I'm going to need to wash up," Rose said dryly, looking at the splatter down her side.

"No point in getting clean until we finish getting dirty," Jack said, turning back to her. "Now, where were we?"

"Wait!" Rose startled them all by pushing Jack's hands away. "I want… I mean… with him." She nodded at the Doctor. "You and me later, Jack. I want you, Doctor." She was looking into the Doctor's eyes, pleading. "It's all I've wanted for ages, you 'n' me, I want to make you happy." Her gaze headed speculatively south to his crotch, as if she expected something prehensile to jump up and do a West End musical medley. "I want to do it the way you like to do it." If you've ever done it hung unspoken in the air.

Jack was more direct, although he was also staring downwards waiting for the musical production to begin. "How do your people do it?"

It was very, very tempting to make up something utterly ridiculous — the bit about weaving people on looms was always good for a laugh — but the Doctor knew that Rose would boggle, think, then offer to do whatever he came up with, and Jack would skip the first two steps entirely. "All humanoids do it in more or less the same manner, Rose. Only my people also do… did…" Tenses were making him tense and lose the mood, so he rephrased and tried again. "I’m telepathic. We touch minds as well as bodies."

Rose looked intrigued. Jack, for once in his life, frowned. "Doctor, you've just proven you’re a great date but I'm pretty touchy about people being in my head. The last bunch stole two years of my life." The frown got deeper. "It's one thing if it's the TARDIS - have you been reading my mind all along too?"

"No, no, it's not like that, you're not Gallifreyan, I have to be touching your head, and really concentrate. If you don't want to, I won't try at all. But you asked." The Doctor shrugged. "That's what we do." He half wondered if Rose would balk as well; he remembered how upset she was when she'd found out the TARDIS had been in her mind.

But that was a long time and many adventures ago. "So, what do I do?" Rose said, sitting up straighter as if she was going to be graded on deportment. Suddenly she looked dubious. "You're not going to read, like, everything, are you? Not going through my memories. That'd be like reading my diary." She shook a finger at him. "Don't do that."

He couldn't help laughing at her just a little bit. "I won't, I promise." He cradled her face, nuzzling her nose.

Doctor? she thought tentatively.

Hello! He moved in for a long, wet kiss while trying to find the right depth past the surface clutter. How do humans ever do anything with such disorganized brains? he wondered, careful not to let her "hear" him.

Rose spooked, pulling her mouth away. "Oh, my God!" she gasped mentally and physically.

"Do you want me to let go?" the Doctor cautiously asked out loud.

"I… no." No, don't, please, I just needed a moment. Oh, God, oh God, he's in my head, he's in my head and we're really going to do it, at last! Him and me and… my big bum. Oh, how I hate that thing, it's way too big.

"Your bum," the Doctor said out loud again, removing one hand to squeeze one of the cheeks in question, "is lovely."

She blushed over the entire front of her body. Jack slid off the bed, making the stifled noises of someone who is trying very hard to swallow wild laughter.

"You promised!" Rose cried.

"You thought it right out there," the Doctor cried back, imitating her rather well. "Pay attention to what we're doing!"

"And what do you think we're going to be doing when you've still got your trou on, that's what I want to know," she snipped back.

There was that. He dropped his hands from her face to his fly. Time for the moment of truth, Doctor. Why did it have to be looking like this? Been better looking before. My fifth incarnation was downright cute. Now I'm all knobby. Big ears, big nose, big hands, big feet, all my appendages are out of proportion. Everything's big.



EVERYTHING'S big!


Smiling sweetly, he shucked his trousers. Even Jack looked impressed, and it was only a semi erection.

They both pounced on him again, reaching, exploring, although this time the Doctor noticed that Jack was a little headshy. The Doctor pulled him down for a snog, deliberately keeping his mind closed; Jack flinched, paused, relaxed. Then stuck his tongue down the Doctor's throat.

Four hands stroked him hard. He tried to reciprocate, but Rose was coaxing his hands to her face again as she leaned into him, pushing him onto his back. The Doctor helped her straddle him before reaching upwards to reconnect, leaving her to handle the physical side while he did the mental.

"Ohhhh, this is good!" she sighed, working him into her with a series of long, slow hip thrusts.

"Don't talk, Rose. That's a human thing."

"Since when did you stop talking? Usually can't get you to shut up!"

Rose, pay attention. He moved into her mind, then cautiously opened his own to her.

"OH! I can feel what you're feeling… ooo, that IS good, isn't it? I'll do it again."

Hush, Rose. Wonder of wonders for a girl raised by Jackie Tyler, champion blabbermouth, Rose hushed. Just listen. Feel. He kissed her tenderly, letting her taste him, letting her know how she tasted to him. He was trying to be as gentle as possible, afraid of hurting her or scaring her away. There had been momentary surprise at the coolness of his body, but she was adjusting quickly, thrilled to finally be living out her fantasies — fantasies she was replaying as they touched, but she was rapidly putting them aside to adventure into his mind. Rose delightedly explored his sensations. He let her play however she wanted, tickling, scratching, caressing, circling or pumping her hips, taking almost more pleasure in her joy than in what his body felt. They didn't have to endlessly blather on about how good it was or move just a little to the left or any of that rubbish — none of it was necessary when they knew each other's reactions and could pick up on unspoken wants. Rose explored his thoughts with the same fascinated enthusiasm with which she faced everything, and not a little possessive triumph, while he bared all his fears and hopes to her.

It turned out not to be that hard keeping the telepathic link after all; any contact with her head would do it, be it with his hands, his tongue, or the two of them cheek to cheek — although, on a level deeper than he was letting Rose read, the Doctor was fairly certain the TARDIS was helping. It took a particular interest in this pair of companions for reasons the Doctor hadn't quite figured out. Or maybe it had been worried about him. After almost a millennia connected to him, it naturally had a stake in his welfare.

It didn't take very long for Rose to climax; Jack had brought her too close before they started, and she'd only lasted this long because she'd been distracted. She dug her nails into him as she rode him hard and he rose roughly to meet her, swept along by the imperative overriding every other thought in her brain. As she started to writhe he held her close to his chest, kissing along the side of her face and along the top of her head.

"That was…" she started, panting, then remembered. That was great!

Yeah. It was. He grinned at her. Told you I had some moves!

She grinned back, wrinkling her nose and catching her tongue between her teeth. The night is young, Doctor. It's your turn now. He was still buried deep in her; she squeezed her thighs just a bit in an embrace. Rose started to sit back up to ride him again; he caught her and pulled her flat, rolling on the bed to get on top…

…Almost rolling out of the bed. Jack was snickering in the background while the two of them clutched and clawed for purchase, finally keeping their perch at the expense of much of their dignity.

"Now, where were we?" Rose panted as she backed up to higher ground.

"You were saying something about my turn," the Doctor reminded her. She grinned at him, leaning back on her elbows with her knees up. He didn't have to be telepathically reading her to know that she expected to be jumped on and was looking forward to the experience.

But he didn't want to. He didn't want to just rut with her, he wanted to make love, to sink back into her brain and body until he couldn't remember the pain of the war, couldn't hear the silence along the senses that linked him to his kind. Let Mickey or Jack bang away at the surface; he wanted to touch her soul. The Doctor brushed his lips lightly against hers, starting from the beginning as if they hadn't just spent the last quarter hour locked together.

Rose was not in a sentimental mood. She grabbed his face and planted a plungerlike snog on him; he could feel her trying to touch his mind, so he opened to her. We've got all the time in the universe, Rose.

She didn't even bother articulating a response, just focused on her own desire to be touched hard and fast and deep, projecting an image of him coming inside her.

I won't be making that face, Rose.

"What? You — " He cut her off with another kiss. So what kind of a face will you be making?

Let's find out. He pushed her down and gently pushed in, letting the rhythm build slowly at his pace. Rose, getting used to this new communication, was paying even more eager attention to the thoughts he shared while he focused on everything about her — her heat, her taste, her scent, the little gasps and croons she made as he moved within her. He could feel Rose's startled surprise as she discovered how much she was aroused by noises she'd never heard before under all the talking, like his rough, uneven breathing, his occasional groans, and the slick, wet sounds of their motion.

They reveled in each other. There was nothing of the TARDIS, nothing of the universe, beyond the boundaries of the bed. He tried to stay on the verge, to keep the moment as long as possible, but Rose triumphantly pulled him over it, breaking the silence with a joyful shout as he convulsed against her. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, cradling him against her as he waited for his hearts to stop racing.

Doctor?

Oh, Rose. He brushed her hair back, stroked her face, ran a thumb across her lips, unwilling to let her go. My Rose.

Doctor? she thought again as he kissed her gently. You totally made that face.

"ROSE!"

She burst into laughter, which was echoed in a deeper key from a corner of the room. They both turned to see Jack leaning back in a chair toasting them with a glass, sporting ample evidence that he'd enjoyed the show. "You two are the sweetest couple, you really are."

"Where'd you get the drink, then?" the Doctor asked.

"That hatch popped open while you two were off in your own little world. I think the TARDIS considered it a consolation prize. Want some? There's a whole decanter here." There was, and there were two more glasses on the tray next to it.

"What is it?" Rose asked, breathless from exertion and the Doctor's weight.

"Champagne."

"Ooo, I want some!"

Reluctantly, and with several last kisses, the Doctor pulled out and rolled off her. He lay on his side, watching as Jack brought Rose a glass. His glance flickered over both of them, settling on Rose's perky, hard breasts.

"Looks like you're still ready to go," he said cheerfully. "My turn?"

Both of them looked over at the Doctor, who wasn't sure what to say, so he shrugged. Pointless in trying to stop them from what they'd been doing for weeks now.

"Your turn!" Rose grinned up at him.

Jack grinned back, took a firm grip of her sides, and pulled her to him for a thorough and thoroughly wet kiss before giving her a glass. They clinked their drinks. Jack took a long sip, and the Doctor noticed that he hadn't swallowed before moving down to a nipple. Rose yelped and giggled and writhed, which only made Jack clutch her closer… and accidentally-on-purpose spill much of his champagne down her. Which he followed with his tongue.

"Subtle," the Doctor grunted at him, starting to climb off the bed. He didn't quite have time to make his exit before they came crashing down in a writhing tangle, pinning him against the wall in a wet spot made wetter by tiny chips of ice. The Doctor considered this, calculating his chances of crawling over them without putting an elbow in something painful (and wondering if he wouldn't mind inconveniencing Jack just a bit) when one of Rose's hands came questing across the sodden blankets, flailing a bit until she found his fingers.

"Now what am I supposed to do with this?" the Doctor asked, disconcerted. He tried to work loose and push her back toward Jack, but Rose clung to him. "I'll leave you to your mating rituals, thanks," he told her, but on "leave" she clamped down until she almost crushed his hand.

Jack surfaced just long enough to gasp, "Don't go, Doctor."

Ah. Well. What did they expect, though? He was 900, he needed a little more recovery time before he could do anything more active than just watch.

Rose was pulling his hand back towards her, resting it along the side of her face. D'you really want me to listen in while he… the Doctor started, outraged, before he thought twice. He could always take notes, he was hardly an expert on human sexuality. And Rose wanted HIM. Even with Jack at her like a jackhammer, she still wanted him. Take that, Mr. Fifty-First-I-Can-Shag-Anything-Century!

By the time he reached her mind, Jack had pushed her well beyond coherent thought. Oh, I… oh, oh yeah, yeah, hard-er-hard-hard-hard-er-er-hard, YEAH, like tha-, oh, oh, ohhhhhh, yeah do-do-do-YES-YES, oh, again, again, agai-OH! Oh! Ahhh, ye-ahhhh, oh, yes, oh, ah, oh, ye-hard-HARD-HARD-YES-HARD-YES-YES-HARD-HARD-AHHH and then there was no more thought at all, just the deep primal drive to finish sweeping her away.

Jack was urging, "Come on, Rose, come on, come on" as if they were in a race, although Rose could barely hear him as her senses focused far south of her ears. The Doctor felt it gathering as Jack pounded relentlessly into her and added a soft That's it, Rose, let it happen.

She did, screaming breathlessly as she bucked underneath Jack, convulsively pressing the Doctor's hand to her face. The secondhand sensation overwhelmed him; for a moment he lost track of himself, aware only of Jack slowing down, milking every last shudder until he snapped back into the safety of his own brain, aroused all over again.

There was a lot of snogging then; it started with Jack and Rose as Jack withdrew, but they both turned back to the Doctor and drew him in, and for a while it was like it had been at the beginning with everyone fondling everyone else. Only now the sheets were a lot messier.

The Doctor was tickling Rose's tongue with his own when he was startled to feel himself enveloped by something warm on one side, cold on the other, and tingling all over. He almost bit Rose in surprise, looking down to see Jack busily employing the champagne and the remnants of the ice.

"My turn to watch," Rose said, sounding quite pleased with the prospect. She had that wicked, dancing gleam in her eyes that he loved so much. "Do you want…?" she offered, running her hands down the side of the Doctor's face.

He shook his head, but when he tried to answer her verbally, Jack did something — what was that, and could he do it again, please? Several more times? — that made him gasp instead.

Jack did do it again, and many other well-practiced things besides with hands and mouth and tongue and drink and ice, and soon it was the Doctor who couldn't think straight. Somewhere, deep in his mind, he thought he felt the TARDIS approve, but it was very hard to think of anything above his waist at the moment. Rose was doing… something… with his hands, it seemed to involve her breasts, but he wasn't sure what and he didn't really care just as long as Jack… kept… "Oooohhhh!"

Time Lords might be quiet about their pleasures, but a Gallifreyan male left the same evidence any other man did -- there was no question that, silent as the Doctor had been, he'd enjoyed himself immensely. Jack (who turned out to be a spitter) came back up for air with a broad grin and poured himself a victory glass.

"Proud of yourself, are you?" the Doctor asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

Jack toasted him. "Damn right I am!"

"I think I can top that." The Doctor matched him grin for grin.

"Oh, really?"

"I've got something you don't have," the Doctor promised.

Jack looked him over critically. "Where?"

The Doctor was stalking up on Jack now. "It's a respiratory bypass system. I can hold my breath for a long time." He took Jack's glass and took a healthy swig from it, bending to blend bubbles with the mingled tastes of Rose and Jack.

Jack really was as easy as advertised. By the end, the Doctor hadn't had to come up for air at all.

Rose had watched with wide eyes. "Doctor, next time — and it's gonna have to be next time or I won't be able to walk tomorrow — that's gonna be me."

"It's a promise, Rose."


They had just enough energy to get themselves clean — all giggling and jockeying for position in the shower at once, scrubbing everyone else's difficult-to-reach bits and convincing Jack that NO, that was it for the evening — before staggering to Jack's room to collapse on his much cleaner bed in a pile.

You clean up that mess, the Doctor ordered silently, thumping the TARDIS wall. And… put a bigger bed in my room.

We're gonna need it.

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