Title: A Question of Fate
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Peter Carlisle
Fandom: Doctor Who/Blackpool
Rating: NC-17
Table: 4
Prompt: 67, Dawn
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor or Peter Carlisle. Please do not sue.

***

The Doctor sat up in bed, blinking in the dim light filtering through the closed blinds of the hotel room. He ran a hand through his hair and over his face, holding back a yawn and looking over at the man sleeping next to him with a smile. Only a few nights together, and he was already feeling a strong attachment to Peter.

A stronger attachment than he should feel, maybe? He sighed softly, rubbing his eyes and swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. He stood up, stretching a bit, knowing that he probably wouldn't go back to bed any time soon -- well, not unless Peter awoke and cajoled him back beneath the covers.

Smiling again at the thought, he turned to pull the blankets back over Peter's bare shoulders, resisting the urge to bend down and press a kiss to that pale skin. They'd been up rather late last night, and he didn't want to awaken his lover. Peter needed sleep more than he himself did.

Padding out of the room on bare feet, he made his way into the sitting room of the suite, walking silently over to the window. He pulled the curtains open cautiously, peering out at the grey light of breaking dawn.

The Doctor kept himself behind the curtain, making sure to hold it together at waist height. He was fairly sure that most people who lived in Las Vegas were quite used to getting an eyeful of a naked man if they happened to look up at the hotel room windows, but he didn't particularly want to be the man they happened to see.

Sighing, he rested his head against the windowpane, closing his eyes and thinking about the man in the next room. Why had he allowed himself to get so close to Peter in such a short time? He'd told himself time and time again that developing such close relationships was never a good thing for him.

Peter was human, like all the most recent companions he'd chosen for himself. He had a very finite life span, and he probably wouldn't want to spend more than a very brief part of that life traveling with the Doctor. It was useless to hope for more than that from anyone; it was all he ever seemed to be able to get.

He hadn't even told Peter about what he was yet; the other man assumed that the Doctor was just as human as he was, and that he was someone who had a home, a job .... a life here on Earth. All the things that he wanted to have -- things that he knew he could never have, no matter how much he wished for them.

What would Peter's reaction be when he found out? It wasn't as though he could put off telling his lover about himself; he needed to be honest with Peter, let him know just what he was dealing with, and let him make his own decisions about whatever else might happen between them.

Was it too much for him to hope that Peter would want to continue their relationship? The Doctor could feel his heartbeats accelerating at the thought; more than anything, he wanted Peter to come with him when he left Earth to go traveling amongst the stars again. He didn't want to go alone.

He had his doubts about whether Peter would be able to accept what he was, much less want to travel into time and space. The only thing he could do was broach the question to the other man, and hope for the best.

If Peter didn't want to go with him .... well, then he would just have to try his best to forget about this enigmatic man who'd stolen his heart. It had been so long since he'd felt this way about someone, since he'd had such a strong connection so quickly. He couldn't bear to break that connection any sooner than he had to.

Perhaps it wouldn't have to be broken, he thought, daring to hope that it would all work out in the way he wanted it to. So many people he'd cared about and wanted to be with in his past lives had been taken away from him -- fate wouldn't be so cruel as to dash his hopes yet again, would it?

Of course it would. If there was one thing he knew about fate, it was that cruelty was that particular divinity's stock-in-trade.

How was he going to tell Peter about what he was, about the life that he led? There was no easy way to impart that kind of information, not unless he wanted his lover to think he was a candidate for the local asylum. Actually, he thought wryly, he'd often thought that he did belong in such a place.

But not lately. The time that he'd been without a companion had sharpened his ability to focus and concentrate; he felt more capable, more clear-headed. His perceptions seemed to have sharpened, as well -- probably because he hadn't had anyone to watch his back, and he'd had to be more cautious than usual.

Even though he'd found that he worked well alone, it wasn't a state that he wanted to remain in. He'd been terribly lonely these last few weeks, and now, he was feeling the need for a companion more keenly than ever before.

Peter seemed like someone who would be able to handle the life he would be thrust into. He was intelligent, adaptable, and obviously able to see the seamier side of the world around him without becoming completely disillusioned. And besides that .... he was beautiful, charming, and utterly desirable.

In other words, the perfect companion. Not only a companion, but a lover. A lover who the Doctor didn't want to give up. The more that he thought about having to give Peter up when he left Las Vegas, the more determined he was to hold on to the other man, to convince Peter to stay with him.

Of course, he couldn't do that. He would have to give his lover the choice of whether to go with him, or stay behind. There was no way for him to know Peter's inclinations; he could just as easily decide that he didn't want to leave the life he led here on Earth as he could decide to embark on a life of adventure with the Doctor.

How would he manage to bring up the subject? Peter would more than likely ask him a few questions about his life; he'd already done so, but the Doctor had managed to neatly sidestep them, changing the subject adroitly. He wouldn't do that the next time those questions came up. No, he had to be honest with the man he loved.

The word caught him by surprise; he stood there, blinking, almost unable to believe he'd used that word, if only in his mind. Love? He'd told himself a long time ago that love was something he would always be denied. Friendship, of course, but never love. He thought that he'd grown cynical to the point where he didn't think of it.

But he hadn't. He needed to be loved just as much as anyone else -- just as much as any human. The Doctor almost winced at the thought, but it was true. He wanted someone to love, someone who would love him in the same way.

Was Peter Carlisle that man? He wanted to believe so. There was only one way to find out -- tell Peter exactly what he was, what his life was like, and give the other man the choice of going with him. If Peter refused, then he would leave, and take the memories of their time together with him.

As for coming back -- something told him that if Peter decided to turn his back on a future for the two of them, he could never come back to Las Vegas. The memories of having loved and lost would be too painful. It would be one more place that he'd have to avoid as much as he possibly could.

There were far too many of those places in the universe, at this point. Well, not so many that he didn't have plenty of other places without painful memories. And truth be told, there weren't many that seared into his soul -- just places where he'd lost people in his life, most of them friends.

Very few of those people who he'd lost had been lovers in the physical sense, but they had all been people he'd cared for and who had touched his emotions in some way. Those memories were bittersweet, but perhaps it was best that they were still there. Locking them away for good would be to deny them completely.

Sighing again, the Doctor shook his head, as though to shake off the reverie that had come over him. Why was he thinking about the past? He should be looking towards the future -- a future that he could possibly spend with Peter.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn't heard the stealthy steps behind him -- when strong arms slid around his waist, the Doctor let out a startled gasp and instinctively tried to turn around to defend himself from whoever was behind him. He relaxed when he heard Peter's soft chuckle.

"Steady on," the other man said, laughing as the Doctor leaned back against him. "I'm not dangerous, really." He rested his chin on the Time Lord's shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss against the Doctor's cheek before speaking again. "What are you doing in here? It's too chilly for you to be roaming around starkers."

"Oh? Are you concerned about shrinkage?" the Doctor teased, letting himself relax in Peter's arms and sighing contentedly. If only things could stay like this; if only he didn't have to bring up a subject that was going to make him nervous and tense until he was sure of the answers to his questions.

And if only he didn't have to tell Peter about himself. It would be so much easier if it had been something already discussed, something put behind them and accepted. But it wasn't; he would have to tell Peter, be completely truthful with him and risk losing not only his companionship, but his respect.

How was he going to tell Peter that he was not only a time traveler, but an alien? "Would it surprise you to find out that you've been having it off with someone who isn't human?" Somehow, he had a feeling that it wouldn't go over well.

"No, not at all," Peter told him, his voice sounding husky and seductive. One hand moved down the front of the Doctor's body, over his belly, between his legs, fingers curling around his cock. Not stroking, just holding, the warmth of his hand sending shivers down the Time Lord's spine. "Hmmmm, no shrinkage here that I can detect."

The Doctor pressed his body back against Peter's, a smile curving his lips. As far as he could tell, there was no shrinkage on the other man's part, either; in fact, it seemed to be quite the opposite. "I don't believe you have to worry about it on your end, either. In fact, things seem to be .... progressing."

"Have you ever made love in front of a window before?" Peter's voice was breathless, his other arm tightening around the Doctor's waist and pulling the Time Lord closer against him. The Doctor's hearts were beginning to thump erratically against his ribs, his pulse racing, his breath becoming harsh and ragged at the thought.

"No, I haven't, but there's a first time for everything," he murmured, letting Peter press him against the glass and not caring who could see them.

"Yes, there is," Peter whispered, one finger trailing down the cleft of the Doctor's ass, making the Time Lord shiver again. "It'll be a first for me, too. It seems we're experiencing a lot of firsts together, doesn't it?"

"Indeed it does," the Doctor replied, before his breath was taken away by the feeling of being entered, Peter's fingers sliding inside him, filling him, teasing him with the promise of more to come.

He could tell Peter about himself later; for now, this was all that mattered. The Doctor gave himself over to his lover's touch, blocking out all other thoughts from his mind, letting himself revel in the here and now -- at least for the moment.

***