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Burn	By : Solaras Category: 1 through F > Doctor Who Views: 2476 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dr. Who, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Burn
- 1
Disclaimer: If I
owned Doctor Who, Jack would have snogged Ten. Obviously I don’t own anything. I just want to borrow.

Author’s Notes: Being
out of practice with writing fanfiction, I decided to do a little exercise in
smut. What I ended up with was not what
I had in mind. My short little smutty
PWP one-shot, soon turned into a long smutty one-shot with a heavy side of
imagery and characterization. I blame
caffeine overdose.

Burn

The fire had burned itself out long
ago, but not in his mind. In his eyes
the flames still burned hot and bright; a never ending blaze of yellow and
orange that faded into red as it reached into the dark of night, and how the
dark hungered for it. The burning
intense light of the fire outshone all around it. Even the stars ceased to shine in the
blackened void surrounding the flame. In
his mind there were only the constant burning and the darkness perched to
devour.

The fire became apart of a bigger
flame. An inferno filled with screams that
spanned the whole of time. An orange sky,
and all that dwelled beneath it, swallowed by the dark. A symphony composed of double beats reduced
to one solitary set of notes. The Doctor
stared at the dying embers of the funeral pyre, but still saw the flames. He saw Gallifrey burning.

After so many years of silence, the
Master’s double heartbeat had been a serenade.
The brush of his mind had filled a void within the Doctor left raw and
ragged by the loss of the Time Lords.
The Master’s mere presence bought such aching relief to the Doctor’s
soul. His scent, cool skin, and voice
spoke of Gallifrey. The Master was
horribly retched as he always was. He
destroyed what the Doctor cared for most, but the Doctor forgave him as he
always did. Once the Doctor would have
said the reason was a friendship he couldn’t forget; now he forgave the Master
because he was Gallifrey.

The Doctor watched as Gallifrey
burned all over again. He watched as the
silence crept into his mind. He watched
as the lonely void filled his soul. He watched
until the dark swallowed the last spark.

Jack stood a respectful distance
away; far enough to give the Doctor a sense of privacy, but close enough to
keep an eye on the grieving man. The Doctor
had clutched at the body of the Master with such desperation, that Jack felt it
prudent to stay with him. Martha had
stayed with her family while the two men left to bear witness to the Master’s
death. She made the Doctor promise to
return when the task was complete, and he smiled saying he would. She told him not to go anywhere else, and he
smiled. She asked if he was alright, and
he smiled. He smiled at her with dead
eyes, but the smile was bright and blinding.

Jack could not be blinded; however,
for he had become intimate with sorrow in a way that humans were never meant to
know. He could see the sense of loss
that only comes from outliving everything around you. He had left the Doctor to wrap the Master’s
body in peace, while he took the time to take a long overdue shower. When he returned to the TARDIS control room,
the Doctor sat holding the shrouded form.
He spoke in a language Jack couldn’t understand, but the way he held the
body said more than enough.

Jack waited in silence till the
Doctor’s flow of words ran dry, and when the Doctor could speak no more, his
tears continuing the tale for him, Jack draped the long brown coat around
him. Gently Jack lifted the body from
the Doctor’s lap, and both men walked out into the cool evening air. The setting sun cast the sky orange against
the approaching dark, and the Doctor stared at the horizon until night descended
and Jack handed him a glowing torch.

Jack kept his distance until the
last embers gave out. When only the moon
and the stars lit the night, he approached the still form of the Doctor. With a hand on his back Jack nudged him
towards the TARDIS, but the Doctor didn’t move.
He stayed firmly in place; his eyes locked on the pile of ash and burnt
wood. In his mind it still burned.

The Doctor could feel the hand on
his back. He could feel the heat of
humanity. Humans were so unbearably hot
with their single hearts beating so fast.
He could feel the heat of eternity in Jack; that spark of time burning
along his spine. Jack was wrong, but he
burned. Gallifrey had burned, but that was
wrong. The Master had burned, but that
was wrong. Jack was wrong, but he burned
and the Doctor wanted to burn with the lot of them.

Jack was not prepared for the
kiss. The Doctor spun away from the pyre
so fast, that Jack’s mind hadn’t even processed the motion. Instead his mind skipped to the motion of the
Doctor’s lips on his own. On instinct
alone he kissed back. His arms slid around
the slim form before him, and Jack crushed the Doctor against him. His mouth slanted against the Doctor’s hungrily. His tongue fought against the Doctor’s, as
both tried to reach into the other. Jack
pulled back gasping for breath, and the Doctor followed after him oblivious to
the need to breathe.

“Doctor,” Jack managed before his
mouth was claimed again. The Doctor’s
arms wrapped around his neck, and his fingers twisted in Jack’s hair. Jack could have been kissing the night air,
so cold was the Doctor against him. The
Time Lord’s tongue felt like cool water sliding along his own, and he had
thirsted for the Doctor for longer than most humans lived. There was such desperation in the Doctor, and
Jack ached to answer it but he couldn’t be such a bastard.

Jack had dreamed of hurting the
Doctor in the past. He had gone over
every cutting word a thousand times. He
had thought of the satisfying crunch the Doctor’s nose would make when he
punched him in the face. He had planned
out how to lock the Doctor in a Torchwood cell and leave him, but then the dawn
would come, and Jack would still love the Doctor. Jack had dreamed of hurting the Doctor, but
not like this; besides, they had all hurt enough in the year that the rest of
the world didn’t remember. Jack pushed
the Doctor away as gently as possible, but with enough force to impede the
persistent (distracting) mouth.

“Doctor,” Jack tried again, “this
isn’t a good idea, and I have so used that phrase sparingly. Not that I don’t really want to explore this
path to it’s fullest, and under other circumstances I would love to buy you
that drink and explore time and relative dimensions in sex, but I don’t think
you’re thinking this through right now.”

“Jack,” the Doctor moaned. The hands fisted in Jack’s hair slid around
to the sides of the other man’s face.
The first two fingers of each of the Doctor’s hands rested lightly
against the Jack’s temples. “Please.”

“Doctor,” Jack choked out. There were unconfirmed reports in the
Torchwood archive of the Doctor being a touch telepath, the proof of which was
brushing, almost politely, against his mind.
Jack had limited abilities in the field, enough to pass his Time Agency
qualification exam, but the mind waiting beyond his shields was far more
advance in the subject.

“Jack,” the Doctor called
again. His fingers pressed more firmly,
and Jack wondered if the Doctor would let him say no. Then the Doctor opened his eyes, and he
looked at Jack with a gaze no longer dead, but burning. Jack gasped as the pressure against his mind
increased. He shuddered and let the
shields drop, and the Doctor flooded into his mind.

The Doctor’s mind burned. Everything consisted of fire and flame. Screams echoed from everywhere, but those too
were made of flame. A world burned
behind the Doctor’s eyes, and the Doctor burned with it. The body Jack clutched onto felt like ice
compared to the mind that held him enthralled.
Jack could feel himself as the Doctor did. The burning heat the Doctor clung to was him;
his body so hot against the Doctor’s cool skin.
The Doctor was burning, Jack was burning, and Jack couldn’t help but
crush his mouth against the Doctor’s cool mouth. That cool water tongue swirled into his
mouth, and Jack drank in the Doctor. It
was all so wrong, but they were burning together.

The Doctor’s hands slid down to
Jack’s coat, but it didn’t matter they were still touching: always touching,
grasping, gripping, ripping, shredding.
The coats were gone, and Jack’s hands were in the Doctor’s pants. The Doctor’s hands were in Jack’s hair, while
their tongues roamed from mouth to mouth and back again; fire and water, each
trying to claim one from the other.

Jack’s hands burned against the
Doctor’s ass, and the Doctor moaned jerking his hips against Jack’s. In return Jack thrust a leg between the
Doctor’s, wrapped one arm around the thin waist, and lifted. The Doctor, standing on the tips of his toes,
gave a choked cry as his own weight pressed him down against Jack. His hands made short work of Jack’s shirt,
forgoing buttons, and simply ripping the fabric apart. The button on Jack’s pants faired no better
as those too hit the dirt. Jack returned
the favor, and soon the Doctor’s shirt went the way of future spare rags.

The Doctor sucked Jack’s tongue
into his mouth as he all but fell to the ground. Jack, compelled by that luscious mouth, could
only follow. He straddled the Doctor
atop their coats, as his hands worked on removing the Doctor’s pants. The other man groaned at the feel of Jack’s
weight pressing against him. Jack’s
burning heat trapping, smothering, igniting him. He could feel fire in the wake of Jack’s
hands pulling off his pants. He panted
against Jack’s mouth, who breathed in the cold air from him and fed him back
the hot flashes of a furnace. The
Doctor’s tongue chased back into Jack seeking the heat, and Jack sucked in the
cold.

A hot hand gripped the Doctor’s
cock, and the he couldn’t help the resulting thrust. Jack’s hungry mouth swallowed the gasp of
cold air and chased the Doctor’s tongue back to the water’s source. The Doctor’s hips thrust against the heat
surrounding him, while his throat worked to swallow the fire in his mouth. His hands clutched at the burning body above
him; short blunt nails dug into heated flesh.
The fire was all around him, consuming him. Each of Jack’s fingers branded his
flesh. The slide of Jack’s hand left a
trail of flame behind it. Jack’s thumb
glided over the tip of the Doctor’s cock, fingernail pressing against the slit,
and the Doctor screamed as the blaze raced up his spine meeting the fire
spilling down his throat. The Doctor’s
hips left the ground, his whole body arched against the heat, and cool wetness
spread across Jack’s hand.

The Doctor, head spinning, clung to
Jack. He lifted a leg to wrap around the
other man’s waist. Jack’s skin felt like
hot coals against him, but it wasn’t enough.
His mind was burning in Jack’s, while Jack’s body burned against his,
but it wasn’t enough. His tongue dove
back into Jack’s mouth, seeking, searching, pleading. He felt Jack nudge against him, slicked with
his own seed, and he pushed back against the searing heat.

The cool skin beneath Jack felt
like his only salvation from the scorching flames engulfing his mind. Jack pushed into the tight passage of the
Doctor’s body. The cool flesh seemed to
siphon the heat right out of him. He
thrust, and the Doctor molded to him; both the Doctor’s legs wrapping around
his waist. Jack pulled back only to
quickly push in again, not daring to leave the cool relief of the Doctor for
long.

Heat blistered inside the Doctor
and spread through his blood. Every
thrust was stoking the fire. Jack’s
flesh burned along his prostrate, and the Doctor arched off the ground; only
his shoulders remained in contact with solid earth. The Doctor’s mouth remained firm against
Jack’s, trying to suck the fire out of the man, as it was pounded into
him. The force of Jack’s thrusts
increased, as eager to expel the heat as the Doctor was to take it, and the
Doctor moaned deep in his throat. Heat
returned to the Doctor’s cock, stroking in time with the thrusting.

Jack slid in and out of the tight
body clinging to him. The Doctor’s
muscles seemed to squeeze the heat right out of him, taking him in and milking
him for all he was worth. Jack could
feel a tightness forming in his gut, his balls lifting, the edges of his vision
blurring. He ached, his mind
burning. The fire danced behind his eyes
and shot down his spine. He thrust hard
into the Doctor, and yelled against his mouth.
His cock pulsed deep within the Doctor, whose muscles clenched around
him.

The Doctor could feel the heat in
Jack rush into him. The flames spread
along his skin and boiled his blood. The
fire in his body burned through the flames raging in his mind. He cried into Jack’s mouth even as Jack did
the same. His right heart beat
furiously, as his left skipped a beat. He
came for the second time in Jack’s fist, and they both burned against each
other, consumed.

They fell together in a heap of
limbs drenched in sweat. Eventually Jack
hefted himself off to one side, so as not to smother the Doctor. The night air felt like an artic breeze
against his bare skin. The Doctor’s skin
felt strangely warm, and Jack loathed moving far away. Jack’s mind buzzed lethargically and he felt
vaguely thirsty. Cracking his eyes open,
he surveyed the alien he was currently cuddling.

The Doctor’s eyes were closed, and
he breathed with a slight hitch through his partly open mouth. His lips were moist and swollen, their normal
soft pink color flushed red. Parts of
his brown hair stuck out in damp tuffs, while the rest laid slick against the
sides of his head. Jack watched as dark
eyes opened and slid in his direction.

“Jack, I…” Jack stopped the Doctor with a finger pressed
to his lips.

“I know,” Jack said raising his
fingers to brush the Doctor’s temple, who moaned softly at the contact, “I
know.”

The fire had burned itself out long
ago, but not in his mind. For the
Doctor, the burning never stopped because he couldn’t forget, but he could lock
it away. Deep in his mind the fires
raged, and a planet burned, but for today, tomorrow and the day after that; he
pushed the fire back with as many thoughts on as many different things as he
could. But sometimes he just needed to
feel the flames. Sometimes the Doctor
needed to burn with Gallifrey.

End

Thank God it’s finished.
So much for writing a short PWP.
*sigh*
Opinions and comments are welcome and appreciated. Thanks for stopping by.

^_^
Solaras
- 1
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