Title: Unfinished Symphony
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Jethro Cane
Fandom: Doctor Who
Prompt: 32, Fingers
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 Jethro Cane. Please do not sue.
***He loved feeling the Doctor's body under his fingertips, the soft skin that his hands slid over as though he was caressing velvet, the sensation of those slender curves under his own skin. It was intoxicating, a heady feeling of control.
Of course, he didn't want to control the Doctor, Jethro thought, feeling a bit guilty at the word that had entered his mind. He was the Time Lord's lover, not his keeper. But he did enjoy being the more dominant partner in their relationship.
Was that because he had some issue with control? He almost wanted to laugh at the thought. Of course not. It was just that he liked being able to mold and shape the other man, in a way. It was a feeling of .... freedom.
And he knew that the Doctor enjoyed this, too, he told himself inwardly, closing his eyes and savoring the sound of the Time Lord's soft moan.
His fingers moved over the other man's shoulders and across his back, feeling the tension there but knowing that it was caused more by anticipation than anything else. One hand stroked down the Time Lord's back, the other man's skin like silk beneath his fingertips.
Jethro slid his arms around the Doctor, pulling the other man back against him and nuzzling his cheek against the softness of his lover's tawny hair. The Doctor's head fell back against his shoulder, exposing the slender column of his throat to Jethro's eager lips.
His fingers moved up the Doctor's stomach, splaying over the soft skin, stroking, caressing, letting himself feel the rise and fall of the other man's uneven breaths. Moving up to his chest, tweaking each rosy nipple, rolling them between his fingers.
The Doctor was panting now, his breath coming in small, quick gasps, his body arching in Jethro's arms, just as eager to be touched as Jethro was to touch him.
His fingers moved down the Doctor's body again, down his sides to rest his hands on the other man's hips. He loved the way that the Time Lord's body curved into his own, the slight swell of those narrow hips under his fingertips.
Jethro moved his hands over that silken skin, trailing his lips along the Doctor's bare shoulder as he did so. There was nothing in the world that was as satisfying as hearing the soft noises coming from the Doctor's throat, knowing that this man desired him.
Now his fingers were moving lower, hands sliding between the Doctor's legs to part his thighs, the fingers of one hand stroking over the velvety skin of his inner thigh, his other hand curling around the Time Lord's cock and stroking, slowly at first, then faster.
Jethro felt as though the Doctor's body was a rare, precious instrument, and his fingers were coaxing the most beautiful melody he'd ever heard from the man in his arms.
When they were together like this, they broke the chains that held them to the world they lived in; the two of them soared above the rest of the universe, part of a rarefied atmosphere that only they could enter, a world where only their desires existed.
He trailed his fingers down the Doctor's thigh, his other hand stroking slowly. The Time Lord's hips arched upwards, as though the Doctor craved more of that touch, his face turned towards Jethro's neck, breath warm on his skin.
His fingers kept moving over the Time Lord's skin, his hand that wasn't already occupied moving over the Doctor's hip, over the curves of his ass, before slipping between his legs to probe inside the other man, entering him swiftly and surely.
This time it was Jethro who gasped, his soft moan mingling with the Doctor's voice. He leaned back, his eyes closing, luxuriating in the intimate contact.
Only a few more moments now, he told himself, his own hips moving in rhythm with the Doctor's body even though he wasn't inside the other man yet. Jethro bowed his head, brushing a gentle kiss across the Doctor's cheek, trailing his lips down his lover's throat.
His fingers thrust inside the Doctor, probing, stretching, preparing him for what was to come, their bodies both straining for completion. Within a few moments, Jethro's fingers were trailing down the Doctor's thigh again, both men breathless, waiting.
When he slid inside the Doctor, it was as though a dam had broken in both of them; his arms wrapped around the Time Lord's waist, the Doctor's body arching against his and each of them uttering a low, guttural cry at the same moment.
They were an unfinished symphony, an orchestration of need that somehow coalesced into a perfect union of their bodies, an acceptance of their mutual desire.
And as far as Jethro was concerned, that symphony would continue throughout the rest of their lives -- or however long they were given. He would give his life to this man, his heart, his body, his soul. Everything that was his essence belonged to the Doctor.
He twined their fingers together as his hips thrust into the Time Lord, gripping his lover's hands and holding on tight, holding on for dear life as he felt the two of them rise into that part of the universe that only they inhabited, not wanting to ever come back down from the dizzying height.
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