AN:~ This started out as a prompt to the 'Kinkmeme' then grew roots and sprouted three heads! Sorry, it's definitely not just PWP anymore but mixed with a lot of introspection, angst and H/C. I'm not happy with it but life has been manic recently and I'm getting rusty on the writing front and just wanted to put something out there!

Pairings:~ Ten/TenII/Rose

Rating:~ ADULT

Summary:~ Rose and the duplicate Doctor are getting fed up with the Timelord constantly besmirching their inferior physiology and decide to teach him a lesson but begin a journey that will change them all forever.

Disclaimer:~ I do not own nor make a profit from my obsessive compulsion with Doctor Who.

The Doctor slowly floats to the surface of awareness passing effortlessly through the mental barriers that he worked so hard to erect for when, even he, a Timelord, has to occasionally sleep - Light sleep triggers that will wake him like an alarm clock at the slightest, out of place sound but let him sleep deeply otherwise, memory shields to try to dampen the force of nightmares, too vivid and too real to result in anything less than screams and a trembling wreak of a millennia old ambassador of an exist species. That would be painful and embarrassing. Sure Rose teases him a lot about his arrogance and ego larger than his hair but to make the decisions he has to make, to live the life that cruel fate has forced on him, one has to be arrogant least the universes crumble in a moment's hesitancy.

He smiled as his senses returned knowing he would awaken in a soft bed beside two soft, warm bodies, not alone, never alone for now but as a sleep tousled hair tickled his eye and he went to brush it aside, he discovered with alarm that he couldn't and suddenly he was wide awake.

His eyes shot open to reveal a dimly lit bedroom, Rose's he was sure, it smelt too feminine and some gender differences never change no matter what the species. Personally he liked the metallic tang he awoke to in his own room, cluttered as it is with bits and bobs of salvaged alien tech. He was alone in bed which was somewhat alarming as he distinctly remembered passing out between his double and their blonde goddess after an energetic bout of lovemaking that, with his ever superior Time Lord metabolism, had left his companions in an ecstatic, unconscious oblivion. There was no way they would have woken before him. What was even more alarming were the tight, course ropes that bound each stretched wrist to the rot iron headboard. Damn, good knots, professional knots, knots made by someone accustomed to having to break out of knots. Tugging to try to get some slack only pulled the binds tighter, chaffing his wrists and leaving him panting and, he had to admit, a little turned on as his imagination raced with the possible tortures devised upon a helpless, naked body.

"Finally awake then?" an achingly familiar and nonchalant voice chimes from the doorway. Craning his neck, he's met by the sparkling eyes of his double, dressed in his blue suit, right down to a neat, burgundy tie.

"I'm not the one who's taken to sleeping half his life away," he grumbles, preferring not to give an inch to his double, feigning indignance and boredom. He can handle Rose in her impish spurts of bondage but there's a certain humiliation and competition when it comes to the jibes and smugness of his own face.

"Oh no, you're the superior Timelord with saintly patience who deigns to put up with his pet humans and their inferior biology," his voice doesn't sound hurt but more akin to amused.

"It's easy to insult me when I'm tied to a bed. It's a pity you have to go to such extremes to have any sense of power over me," the naked Doctor quips and raises a challenging eyebrow. "Untie me and I'll show you superior. I can have you begging in seconds and not bother to finish you off for hours, days even."

"Boasting again is he?" Rose wanders casually in upon the surreal scene, sipping what smells like hot chocolate. She at least is still rather bedraggled looking and only wearing an extra large t-shirt that floats and shimmies as she walks, without a care in the world, to set down her drink and sit in on the edge of the bed. "You men and you're bloody testosterone!"

"Timelord's don't have testosterone, our hormones are light years in advance, want to find out?" He glances sidelong at the bounds and pouts in the way he knows she just can't resist. As much as he's not overly concerned with his current situation, he'd much rather turn the tables and take control. He's too old and too broken to be so exposed. Yes, he mocks their humanity but only because the thought of being that helpless is terrifying to him. He's let them in, so much more than he ever intended, but for their own protection and his, he needs that superior biology, not to outlast them but so as not to fall, to let go, to feel too much, because if that dam breaks it would wash him away and he knows he's the weak one, the coward but it's survival, his last remaining defence.

"Oh there's a lot of things I'd like to find out Doctor!" Rose crawls seductively up the silken mattress, tongue poking devilishly between her teeth. She comes to a rest beside him and leans down to whisper in his ear. "I'd like to find out what you sound like when you beg. What those ancient eyes look like when you lose control. How long your superior physiology could hold together with your cock sucked sore in my throat and your ass full and fucked up the mattress." He swallows reflexively and shudders as warm breath ghosts against his other ear. He hadn't even sensed the other man moving. "Don't forget, I was you. I know exactly what's too much and what's not quite enough. I know exactly what to do to make you scream." His eyes squeeze shut as he draws in laboured breathes, knowing now that he's done for but wanting to be ripped apart.

He stammers an unconvincing retort, hoping to lie even to himself. "You two will be exhausted, have to go for a little human nap, long before you break me so why don't you just except the truth and we can all have some fun?"

The bastard in blue laughs, actually laughs. "We can always sleep in shifts! You're not going anywhere and if you're that unfazed, you won't mind a little wager?"

Oh, he knows this is dangerous territory but does he really look like that precocious when he smirks? "Fine by me!" he shrugs, apparently unconcerned.

"We can do whatever we want to you and to each other but you're not allowed to come, not unless we give you permission and we're not going to do that until you swallow that pride and beg. If Rose or I give up or get bored first then we're your slaves for a full week, you own us, anything you want but if you break first then you marry us in a proper, traditional Earth wedding, white dress, cummerbunds, all the frills with Jackie Tyler as your official mother-in-law."

The Doctor visibly shudders and Rose can't help but laugh at the wide-eyed look of horror that passes over his face. "You wouldn't?" he gasps.

"Have to make an honest woman outta me sometime, Doctor. Course, you'll need to marry the Doctor in a civil ceremony which might not go down too well since you look like brothers and 21st century earth isn't big on bigamy either but we can travel into the future for that one."

She's positively giddy.

"That's not fair, I could manipulate you both into being my sex slaves for a week away if I felt like it and don't pretend you wouldn't enjoy every second. The wager's totally unbalanced. No deal."

"What are you worried about if you're so sure you're going to win? Doubting that Timelordy manliness?"

Oh very clever. "No, it's just the principal of the thing. It's blatantly unjust."

"Ok, ok," Rose acquiesces. "No promises except that you'll at least think about it?"

Does this really mean that much to her he wonders? His double wouldn't have initiated this. Is she unhappy, or insecure in their relationship? Does she really need that commitment to feel like she's loved or that she belongs? Suddenly he's very worried that the one woman in all the multi-verse he'd do anything to make happy has been pretending all this time. It pains him to think that maybe he and himself weren't enough for her or didn't make her feel amazing and wonderful and as uniquely special as she is. He meets the other's eye in question and he falters, a brief glimpse of concern crossing his brow before adding, "It's just a game, a test of wills if you like, really."

The energy's shifted somewhat into an uncomfortable place. He's talked to Rose about this before and while their tied up lover was still asleep. He's pretty sure that she only suggested it for the comedy effect of seeing the Doctor's reaction but he did catch her once browsing through a bridal magazine. She said something about 'every little girl's dream' but countered quickly that she wasn't a little girl anymore and wouldn't change what they had for the world, or several worlds for that matter. He thinks he just caught her on one of those tired, nostalgic days when even the brilliant Rose Tyler craves a little normalcy. After all normalcy's almost exotic to her now. Still just to be sure he realised that he and the other Doctor should talk to her more and actually tell her things. The Doctor still hasn't said those horrifying three words though they all know he feels them, well about Rose anyway. He, well he just suddenly came with the package, didn't he? Rose wasn't going to leave either of them out in the cold. Still, sometimes he feels like a stray dog. He knows she loves him but he's a shadow of what he once was, what the other, still is. He doesn't think things would have worked out the same if the Doctor had left them stranded alone together, like he intended. But mostly he tries not to think about it too much. He's damn lucky and so blessed and he only has one short life now so he may as well enjoy it while it lasts. Strange he always thought that humans would feel so much more, were so alive because their time was short and burned so brightly but actually they feel less because there's no time to spare on self-reflection, misery or even happiness. Life goes on. Rose is scared that they don't feel as strongly for her with her limited human perspectives, as she does for them but the reverse is true. When a Timelord loves, Rassilon help him because he has the ability to analysis and feel every shred of that emotion so intensely. When a Timelord chooses to let himself love, it doesn't 'set his world on fire', he's doing it in spite of the whole universe. He's allowing that emotion priority over rainbow painted skies, floating mountain ranges, phosphorescent clouds that sink to down the earth so it feels like everything is upside down, the hunger to explore, to roam, to dash into danger and experience everything, all for experiencing one emotion that's so terrifying and foreign to the man who lives on, who has the responsibility of every humdrum life on his shoulders and knows how quickly and violently they can end.

It's time to assert his humanity and get them all out of this funk because appreciated or not, wanted or not, he's the bridge that brings them together.

"Ok, scrap the wedding. If you lose, you have to eat pears!" The Doctor makes a grotesque face and an appropriate belching sound and Rose laughs and he can't help but join her.

"Ok, deal! Do your worst! Or your best, it won't matter. Your asses are mine!"

A competitive challenge, this is far more comfortable and that dormant arousal is stirring sweetly again in the pit of his belly as he saunters over to the splayed out Doctor and without any warning grabs his cock and stuffs it into his month.

The Doctor aches and yelps in surprise, keening beautifully in almost pain at the sudden and overwhelming stimulation. Oh, he knows how he loves this. He's on the dirty side in this incarnation and the degradation and primal lust of it burns his passion. The man's already getting hard as he hallows his cheeks and applies enough pressure to burst him. The Doctor's thrashing in the ropes, his face screwed up exquisitely and he knows there's not a single thought in his head except, "FUCK!"

Rose's eyes widen then cloud over with pure desire, God they are so hot. Watching that mass of unruly brown hair rise and fall and the sounds her Doctors make, one moaning wantonly and the other struggling so desperately to regain control. She slides back up onto the bed without even realising she's moved and gently strokes his pained face. The other Doctor does something and he cries out, "Too much!" Wicked gleaming eyes look up the length of that taut, toned body and laugh as he simply replies, "Tough" A desperate, ragged groan escapes wet lips as the other's head bends again to his task and she has to smother his cries.

His kiss is brutal if somewhat erratic, hard and hot and it sends a jolt straight to her clit as she grips his head and contorts herself half on top of him. The hard planes of his body, the effort of his gulped breathes, his glistening chest rising and falling with tension and strain, are too much as she kisses down his neck to her goal. Frantic, open mouthed kisses on heated, trembling skin.

The man between his legs feels gluttonous, starving as he laps at the rimmed muscles of the other's cock. The thrill of bringing someone he loves so much pleasure, too much is both empowering and weakening. He's never done this before, not to that extent, but he knows it's what the other wants, needs. Living a life as intense and extreme as his, at times it takes a gargantuan effort to break through his reality enough for him to actually feel, break through all the other shit and draw his focus. He grips roughly at the other's sharp hips, holding them down and yes, he hears it, the groan, the pleasure in being controlled in relinquishing just a little of that constant responsibility. His digging fingertips will bruise but the Doctor will appreciate the sensation and he kind of likes the idea of marking the other. He relaxes his throat and swallows deep, loving the limits that he's pushing his own body to, loving that he's doing this for the Doctor.

There's a straggled cry from above him and he glances up to see the others face creased in pleasure and pain as Rose, the little minx, bites down hard on a strained nipple. He told her not to be gentle this time. Told her how the other wants it but is too embarrassed to ask. She looks a little worried and unsure but when she does it again and he screams, "Fuck, oh Rose!" there's a radiant beam on her face and a look of awe and wonder. The Timelord never swears, never. It's not that he's a prude, just feels that he needs something descent to swear about and little shocks him anymore.

When he finally regains enough sense to look at her, there's pure adoration in his eyes and he sweeps them down to his counterpart who is shocked by the inclusion, even more shocked by the mouthed words, "Thank you". That's torn it, now he wants to completely ravish this man, fuck him 'til his dick falls off. He doesn't care.

Yet he slows his manic sucking, letting him slip free as he moves down to lavish his balls in saliva and pre-come. He teases them with a pointed tongue and meets Rose's eyes to guide her on the change of pace. She moves up the bed and cradles the other's head in her hands almost reverently, bowing gently to kiss him with sweet, wet caresses and he does likewise, French kissing the swollen ball sacks like they were ambrosia. The Doctor actually shivers and there's a squeak of fear. Abuse he can handle but tenderness?

Rose languidly rises above him and daggles her right breast above his mouth and he's all to eager to swipe at it with that dexterous tongue, to latch onto the puckered nipple and swish and swirl around it, tasting that sweet uniqueness of their Rose. She purrs happily above him, switching breasts with a ghost of a soft smile that becomes a teasing grin as she taunts, "Sure you don't want to come yet? We're just getting started." There's bliss and misery in the other's eyes as he moans around her and sucks harder than she was expecting, stifling a surprised whimper from her lips and a smirk from his. Well that's his answer is it? He's really going to let them do this?