Title: Gonna Lose Control

Pairing: Eleven/Rory

A/N: Based on the unofficial prompt 'orgasm control' from a reader.

Summary: Rory almost becomes a courtesan; the Doctor shows him the error of his ways...

The TARDIS is quiet, the gentle hum throbbing through Rory as he finds himself pressed tight against the console. There's a knob or some twirly blue thing stuck in his back and it'll probably hurt later but the Doctor's lips are firm and warm against Rory's and he really can't be bothered to deal with the consequences now.

The Doctor's thigh is pushed between Rory's and his hands - much, much older than Rory is but feels like he's in his twenties - are groping along Rory's sides. Rory strokes along the Doctor's back, feels the muscles tense in his shoulder blades and kisses him.

They'd been on some little excursion to Panador XII and had just escaped from a group of warriors intent on making the Doctor their king. The only problem was that several of the warriors had given Rory... looks and then the Doctor had wrapped an arm, tight, around Rory's shoulders and then hell had broken loose.

Now they were leaning heavily against a section of the console which Rory was sure to cause them to end up in medieval, feudal Japan or one some about-to-explode moon in the 33rd century and the Doctor was groping and pressing hard against Rory's dick through his jeans.

"We're... we're really doing this then, huh?" Rory murmurs, fingers threading through thick hair and the Doctor nods.

"I'd hope so, because all of the physiological responses - responses, I might add which are never activated in Time Lords are..." Rory's lips and his hand slipping down to cup firm ass check promptly shut him up.

This wasn't something new - with the Doctor it was, something forbidden and exciting and the stuff to wank over in the darkness and privacy of your bedroom. He'd experimented in nursing college - everyone experimented in college - and while Amy had been his dream girl and his best friend in a sense, the Doctor is intoxicating and amazing...

And he apparently knows his way around a dick.

His hand is unbuttoning Rory's jeans with a one-handed expertise while snogging his face off and simultaneously squeezing Rory's ass. The throbbing of the TARDIS is louder, stronger now and Rory's getting caught up in the whole thing.

His cock is pulsing hard and hot as the Doctor's hand wraps callused and firm around it and Rory leans his head back against the console and groans.

"That's... that's perfect." The Doctor's voice is awed and almost reverent and Rory wants to fucking kiss him or worship him or something. The Doctor is jerking him off, hard and fast and Rory knows he's gonna come some if he's not careful or thinking about the postman or something.

That's when the Doctor sinks to his knees, his untouched cock poking out through the tent of his suit trousers and presses Rory's cock to his lips. Not sucking, not licking. Just pressing it as if he's contemplating something.

Sweat streaks down Rory's forehead and the collar of his tee shirt and he genuinely thinks that this whole episode has to be psychic pollen or a bad dream or maybe some big space-plant trying to kill him with... sex or something.

"They were looking at you, you know." It's murmured and low but audible in the console room which echoes like a valley. "Those Sou'rak tribesmen. Looking at you. It's a cultural thing, they like the paler skinned boys to take them as... concubines. Courtesans."

"Lovers." The Doctor slides Rory's cock into his mouth and warm, wet heaven engulfs his dick. He's pretty sure his head cracks a spiderweb pattern into the TARDIS' screens but he doesn't give a shit anymore - all he cares about is that perfect feeling of the Doctor's mouth and tongue and curling his hands tight in that tangled, mussed dark hair.

"Kind of a... bad time to go all... anthropological on me, Doc." Rory grins. The Doctor smiles lightly and starts talking, pulling Rory's dick free.

"The only problem with you becoming a Sou'rak courtesan is that you already belong to someone. And that someone," the Doctor squeezes Rory's thigh fiercely, "is going to show you."

His hand pumps at Rory's cock and then stops, Rory gasping at the loss of sensation before starting all over again. Pulling him so close to that precipice of pleasure and dragging him back - it's infuriating. Rory may have to smack him one if he keeps it up.

His toes are curling, his hands itching and tingling as waves of unrequited, unfinished pleasure and sensation start to drift across his senses. The Doctor seems nonchalant, smirking as he starts it all again, occasionally sucking for a few, brief, agonisingly sweet seconds.

Rory thinks he's gonna die of blue balls (if that's a medical condition and knowing the Doctor, if Rory mentioned it, he'd end up describing it - maybe with PowerPoint presentations or a visit to a clinic and Rory really doesn't want that) but the Doctor seems intent on keeping Rory on edge.

His boxers and jeans are shoved around his knees, bare ass pressing against the cold edge of the console and one of the Doctor's hands is rubbing and stroking a cheek there, making the problem worse.

"Come on, Doc, please I need it, I need you, please." Rory's pleading, begging - something he'd never do around the Doctor but apparently getting your brains sucked out through your dick makes a weakling of you - and the Doctor finally nods, meeting his desperate gaze.

The Doctor's pupils look black, blown and Rory wonders if that's some Time Lord thing or whether it's a general look of deep lust but it doesn't matter because the Doctor is jerking him off now, hard and fast and insistent and Rory's coming with a roar and a shout.

White stripes of come paint themselves across the Doctor's chin and mouth. Very absent-mindedly, Rory notices a drop of come on the Doctor's bowtie and for some reason that makes him smile. The Doctor keeps on milking him until Rory's feels like he could very well collapse here and sleep on the cool TARDIS floor for a good twelve hours (which is always a bit iffy in a time machine).

"I... you..." Rory's voicebox and indeed his brain have temporarily shutdown so he does what he wants to. What he needs to.

He pulls the Doctor to his feet and kisses him, his hand freeing the Doctor's impressive cock from the confines of his trousers and starts pumping it - their foreheads pressed together, hot breath mingling and mouths pressing like moths bumping into one another. He's always vaguely wondered if Time Lords had regular, human penises or whether they had seven like a terribly porn-y episode of Star Trek or something.

The Doctor's moaning and groaning as Rory twists his angle and wonders if the Doctor ever wanks - ever locks himself away in wherever he sleeps in the TARDIS and indulges his more... physical needs.

He'll have to ask him - or better yet, ask to watch him at work. That thought, the Doctor stroking himself, is almost enough to neccessitate a round-two; but not now. Later.

The Doctor comes with a choked sob and Rory feels his hand and wrist splash warm.

Turquoise light from the TARDIS spills across them and the Doctor leans forward, pressing his mouth chastely to Rory's before buttoning them both back up and grinning - a lazy, relaxed smile Rory's never seen before.

"Told you, I'd show you."

Rory rolls his eyes. "And that involved almost breaking me by not letting me come? You're... sadistic."

"And you're what in your time, they would call 'kinky'." The Doctor grins, tapping his own forehead. "Heard that little fantasy of yours in your mind, Rory my boy."

The Doctor offers a hand as the TARDIS starts pulsing, the groaning almost-bell sound of it kicking in after a few beats. "Now how's about we find a little corner and I show you how Time Lords do it."

Rory grins. He takes the hand.

Fin.