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An Extremely Bad Idea
By Taleya
"This is a terrible idea you know," the Doctor shrugged out of his coat and
tossed it carelessly on the console floor behind him.
"Yes." Turlough's hands were loosening his tie, quicksilver movements of slender
fingers below blue eyes that never left his face.
"It can never work," his jumper followed his coat, the motion awkward, a little
hurried with need.
"Oh, I know." A shrug of the shoulders, black jacket following the motion to
whisper to the ground.
"We shouldn't be doing this at all."
"No."
And then his arms were full of a warm body, willing, rising up to catch it, to
hold it, hands sliding around that blue shirt and tightening around the narrow
form even as his lips sought and found their target. Hands rose up to plunge
through his hair, nails scraping slightly against the skin of his scalp as a
black-clad groin ground against his own for a heated instant, making his knees
tremble and plimsolled feet skid a little against the smooth white floor. His
hands slid lower, clenching the other man's backside almost brutally as he
pulled them closer together, almost into one being, random neurons sparking and
firing wildly in his brain as they tottered backwards, the feel of the console
edging against his spine.
The Doctor pulled reluctantly away from the kiss, hands busy tugging at the
redhead's waistband, pulling his shirt free at the waist. The hands in his hair
tightened, pulling his head back as a warm mouth latched onto the side of his
throat and his eyes rolled back with an involuntary moan at the feeling. "You'd
never know whether we were coming or going, and I'd always get you into terrible
danger," he gasped.
"mrf." Turlough agreed around a mouthful of ear.
"And I won't be able to promise you safety," The Doctor's hands scrabbled at the
buttons of the younger man's shirt, fingers fumbling over, then tearing the
buttons from their threads as he pulled at the thin material, an odd pinging
noise as one bounced off the recall indicator.
"You never have," the words slid into a gasp as his mouth nipped and suckled at
the pale flesh revealed, hands spasming and fluttering, clawing huge fistfuls of
his shirt from his back.
"And...and..." The Doctor grabbed the younger man around the waist and with a
grunt of effort heaved him up onto a less-cluttered section of the console.
"We'd never have a settled home of our own, nowhere to rest our feet, flapping
through the cosmos of space and time - " he struggled with his braces for a
moment before ripping them off and tossing them over his shoulder, hands clawing
at the crotch of his striped trousers as eager fingers dove to help. "- nothing
but the TARDIS and our wits..."
He shoved his pants to the floor and the hands fisted in his hair again, pulling
him closer, dragging him down. "Fine by me."
"And there's....good lord...quite a few cultures where our relationship..." - a
squeak - "...would be more than frowned upon - " That sinful mouth nipped and
suckled at his collarbone, hands pawing at his sides, wandering, exploring,
stroking his stomach, his hips, stroking boldly against his crotch with an
assurance that was driving him mad.
"Always getting into trouble." Turlough laughed, the sound breathless and light
as the Doctor grasped his wrists in firm hands, pressing them back, over his
head, either side of the time rotor. He arched up, eyes fluttering and colour
rising high in his cheeks as lips worked their way down his throat, across his
chest, his belly, hands scrabbling and clutching at the smooth glass-like
exterior of the rotor for purchase.
"We'd have to be very discreet - mind the helmic regulators." The Doctor shifted
them to the side a bit, away from delicate circuitry and then bit savagely at
the button of Turlough's trousers, spitting the small plastic circle to one side
as he scrabbled at the material, pulling the black trousers away and hurling
them to land somewhere near the exterior doors.
"soul...of discretion..." Turlough's voice sounded thick, choked, a high pitched
keening noise building in the back of his throat as the Doctor pressed down on
top of him, against him, all smooth skin and nimble fingers, fine blonde hair
and moist lips, heat against his crotch, grinding, pushing. He gripped the time
rotor with his palms, then wrenched himself up, head falling back and gasping as
the Doctor nipped at the side of his throat, pushing against the Time Lord,
nails raking at his shoulders and sending them both to the floor. Lips against
his, sucking the air from his lungs, soft body cushioning his fall.
"So you see..." the Doctor gasped, thrusting upwards, nails digging into the
Trion's buttocks, pulling, grinding. "This is a very bad idea..."
"yes," Turlough's knees were bruising against the hard white floor, his hips,
his back as they rolled across it and he didn't care, hands clenching hard
enough to leave marks as he clutched at the other man's shoulders, lips swollen
and stomach tightening as they rocked harder, faster. "A very...very...bad..."
"- idea!"
And for quite a while afterwards, they were content to sprawl on the floor.
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