Title: If You Want Something Doing...
A/N: Based on readers' prompts and the individual prompt 'masturbation'.
Summary: A loose sequel to 'Gonna Lose Control' in which Rory torments the Doctor and the Doctor takes things... into his own hands, so to speak.
When Rory had suggested that the Doctor let him watch himself... at work as it were, he didn't think anything would come of it. Ever since Amy had left them, for a little while at least, he and the Doctor's relationship had definitely shifted towards... well, it had dropped off the edge of 'friendship' into the decidedly more adventurous waters of 'kind-of-dating-and-fucking'.
It was amazing - all the worlds, all the adventures and breathing in new worlds and god the sex was undoubtedly amazing. Rory had fucked about with guys on and off in nursing college before the thoughts of 'settling down' had even crossed his mind. The Doctor's had a few hundred years - despite his insistances that "carnal relations aren't a burning need for me" - to perfect his art.
Yeah, there's no way, Time Lord, human or Romulan, that the Doctor could just learn instinctively to suck dick like that. It requires practice and a jaw of steel depending on the guy.
So, Rory naturally assumes, that the Doctor... he can barely bring himself to say the word. Jerks off. Wanks. Beats the beef. Chokes the chicken. Or as he heard the Doctor once mention it (semi-sarcastically, he hopes), "strangling the Sontaran".
There he said it. And he really hopes the Doctor actually does it; otherwise the fervent 'nights' (because he doesn't think the TARDIS has nights or days or anything remotely time-y inside) where he's stroked himself to the sight of the Doctor sucking his cock or better, the Doctor, alone in his room, doing the same thing.
They're in Rory's room - or the room Rory had been, sort of, allocated - and they've just spent an hour or two taking a break. The Doctor had insisted on showing Rory around the Imperial Gardens of Japan and the seventh moon of Calliope in the Hedonia Galaxy.
Rory had spent the time ignoring the delicate blossoms and had his hand on the Doctor's arse throughout the whole visit - causing some mild distress and a very, very small threat of decapitation from an ever-so-slightly homophobic samurai. Calliope had been worse - Rory had become determined to mess with the Doctor, work him up like he'd done before, so he'd bent over every display in the hypermarket and gone swimming in the Sea of Amber.
The Doctor had dragged him back to the TARDIS (because apparently a nine-hundred-year-old Time Lord can get quite possessive) and had kicked open the door of Rory's room.
"I never knew that 21st century humans could be so... infuriating." The Doctor is mumbling, half to himself as he peels off his tweed jacket. Rory's still breathing heavily and beneath him, he can feel the soft reverberations as the TARDIS starts leaving the planet.
"Infuriating?" Rory is faux-innocence, even as he kicks his trainers off against the off-blue rug.
"Yes, you're all so... and you with the bending and the... the swimming..." the Doctor's hands are low, fingers absent-mindedly rubbing against the button-fly of his trousers. Rory swallows. He can already seem the outline of his cock pressing eager and hungry against the fabric, "...it's very infuriating."
Rory grins, his own dick getting hard just from watching in anticipation. "And what are you gonna about it, Doc?" His tone is lascivious and a shock to himself - he was never this... dirty with Amy or any of the others. The Doctor's obviously a bad influence.
"Get on your knees." The Doctor commands, stretching out and curling a thick handful of Rory's hair in his hand. It doesn't hurt - never does with the Doctor unless it's frantic and wanted on either end - and Rory sinks obligingly to his knees.
He's been on his knees in worse places with the Doctor - once, he recalls, inside a Roman palace trying to stop the assassination of a rather sweet princess (who Rory recalls, after they'd saved her and killed the giant-snake thing trying to devour her, had been rather accomodating and a sweetheart). Another time fills his head - a desolate beach on Aurorum Delta where Rory had knelt and sucked as the dry surf had come in (a strange sensation to say the least).
But he's in the here and the now - and the Doctor's unbuttoning his fly and his cock is snaking free of his underwear. He's holding it loose in his right hand, left still bunched in Rory's hair, and is stroking it.
"I want you to watch." The Doctor's voice is dark and intense, a command that might shake the halls of gods or raise empires, but in the right situation leaves Rory feeling like there's no one else in the world.
Rory leans his head up and watches as the Doctor starts to stroke faster, his hand twisting at a strange angle which causes a low moan from the Doctor. Their eyes meet.
He really wants to reach up and help - maybe it's the nurse in him, always wanting to help out. Wants to wrap a hand around the Doctor's length or take it into his mouth. But the Doctor's doing fine on his own, so Rory settles for something else.
His hands slide up narrow hips and reach around to cup arse cheek and the Doctor's moan is louder this time. The Doctor's wanking himself off, hand squeezing tighter in Rory's hair and Rory can feel himself growing bigger inside his jeans.
"Rory... you're amazing and gorgeous and... infuriating." The Doctor's panting, red flush across his face and neck, stark against his bowtie. Rory drops one hand to his own cock, squeezes it through the rough denim of his jeans. His eyes roll back slightly but return quickly to the Doctor. He doesn't want to miss this.
"Close... your... eyes..." The Doctor is broken, straining as his hand speeds up. His cock is flush, his balls heavy and full and Rory almost wants to disobey him but does it anyway.
The next moment, he feels the hot splash of come against his neck and face. It's unbelievably sexy and Rory has to open his eyes. Above him, the Doctor looks magnificent, his hand pumping as he comes, his eyes blown and his mouth agape and looking down at Rory like he's amazing.
It's the sight of that which makes Rory come in his jeans. He moans, squeezing his eyes shut again as come spills, hot and heavy and sticky in his boxers.
The stars behind his eyes fade after a moment and Rory manages to open his eyes, his knees weak and boneless. The Doctor is gasping breaths, even with his cock still hanging from his trousers. He manages a proud, effervescent smile as Rory's hands smoothly slide him back into the slightly damp trousers.
"See. That's how the Time Lords do it." The Doctor smiles as Rory readjusts himself and the pair flop langorously onto Rory's bed. Rory slides his fingers into the Doctor's which remain sticky.
"Thank you." Rory leans over and presses a kiss to the Doctor's cheek. The Doctor kisses him back.
And then, blissfully, they slide into sleep. Hands still entwined.