Title: Burning From the Inside
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Owen Harper
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Rating: NC-17
Table: C, lover100
Prompt: 55, Thrust
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 Owen Harper, unfortunately. Please do not sue.

***

Owen sat on the couch in one of the many rooms of the Tardis, drumming his fingers repetitively against the coffee table in front of him. He had no idea where the Doctor was on the ship, but he was sure that the Time Lord would be joining him shortly.

When they'd come back to the ship after their last little adventure, Owen had felt unsettled, unable to stay in one place for very long. He'd always been a bit high-strung, but this was ridiculous. It was almost as though there was some kind of electrical current running through him.

He'd thought about asking the Doctor if there was any liquor on the Tardis, but he'd discarded that idea. He didn't want to turn to drinking to calm himself down; he'd done that too many times on Earth, and it was part of his past.

A past that he didn't want to repeat. He had a new life now, here with the Doctor, and he didn't want to fall into any bad habits that were better left behind him.

One thing he didn't want was for the Doctor to see him when he was drunk. He'd made too many mistakes in his life when he'd been in that state, and the Time Lord didn't need to view anything like that. He'd prefer to keep that in his past, as well.

So far, their relationship had been progressing slowly, but that was all right with Owen. He wasn't in any kind of hurry; even though he wanted the Doctor, being patient would bring him more rewards than trying to rush things between them.

Though he did have to admit that it was hard to wait, especially when he was subjected to seeing the Doctor in all kinds of states of undress, he thought with a small sigh, propping his chin in one hand and letting himself think back over the past few weeks.

When the Doctor had first brought him back from New Earth, restored to life and health, the Time Lord had been very careful with him, as if he was afraid that Owen was fragile and could break into shards of nothingness at any moment. That had been a little annoying, but understandable.

But now .... it was over a month later, and the Doctor was still behaving as if he was made of spun sugar, Owen thought, a frown settling onto his features. He wanted to convince the Time Lord that he wasn't going to break, that he was regaining his strength rapidly.

He didn't blame the Doctor for being concerned. But that care was getting to be more of a curse than a blessing, at least in Owen's eyes.

He leaned back on the couch, trying to relax. Wherever the Doctor was, he would show up sooner or later. After all, they were inside the ship. It wasn't as though the Time Lord could just wander off and disappear.

Though the Doctor did know the ship like the back of his hand, Owen told himself, a small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips. If he decided that he wanted to lose himself somewhere and have some privacy for a while, he'd certainly be able to do it.

As if Owen's thoughts had summoned him into the room, the Doctor appeared in the doorway, clearing his throat as he headed for the couch. Owen looked up, a greeting on his lips until his gaze focused on the Time Lord.

The Doctor was wearing nothing but a towel. A towel that was loosely knotted around his wasit, as though he'd just gotten out of the shower. His hair was still wet, his body deliciously, gloriously nude under a covering that was barely there.

Owen couldn't move, couldn't speak. All he could do was sit there staring at the Doctor, unable to tear his eyes away.

All he wanted to do was sit there and drink in that sight -- and hope that the towel would fall and he'd be able to see even more than he already could. Probably wishful thinking, but .... well, a man could dream, couldn't he?

What was he doing? It was like his body was acting of its own accord, not paying attention to his mind. He was getting to his feet, placing his hands on the Doctor's shoulders, pushing the Time Lord backwards until the other man was pressed against the wall.

And the Doctor was responding to him, leaning closer, his breath coming faster, his lips so close that Owen could almost taste them. Their gazes were locked, speaking without words, their bodes pressed against each other.

He was reaching down to pull the knot that held the towel around the Doctor's body, letting it fall to the floor and exposing the Time Lord's flesh to his searching hands. He heard the Doctor gasp when the towel fell away, but the other man didn't move away.

His hand rested between the Doctor's thighs, his fingers curling around the other man's cock, not moving, just holding, touching .... feeling. Owen was almost afraid to move, afraid to break the stillness, the silence, the accord that seemed to exist between them.

The Doctor moaned softly, his eyes fluttering closed, his head falling forward to rest on Owen's shoulder. His wet hair was dripping water all over Owen's shirt, but he didn't care -- all he could think about was the Doctor's nearness, and how much he wanted the other man.

His hand trembled as he fumbled with the button and zipper on his jeans; he'd never realized before just how hard this was to do one-handed.

But somehow, he managed; he was stepping out of his jeans within the next few seconds, turning the Doctor around and pressing him against the wall as his fingers slid between the Time Lord's slim thighs, seeking the warmth of his body.

Owen and the Doctor gasped simultaneously when the young man's fingers slid inside the Time Lord -- Owen's gasp one of need, the Doctor's one of surprise and pain. Owen didn't move, hoping that the other man would be able to relax and that this wouldn't hurt him.

He could feel those tight muscles gradually relaxing around his fingers, the Doctor's breathing starting to accelerate into what sounded like pleasure. Those small sounds matched his own inner excitement; Owen couldn't have held himself back now if he'd tried.

His hands were moving of their own volition; he couldn't have stopped caressing the Doctor's body even if he'd wanted to. His fingers were moving slowly in and out of the other man, preparing him as best he could; Owen hoped that it was enough.

Owen regretted that there was no lube, but he had to have the Doctor now. There was no way that he could wait until they made it into the bedroom and there was more preparation. It would break the spell, the enchantment that seemed to surround them.

He let his fingers slide out, pressing the Doctor against the wall and moving closer to him, his arms sliding around that slender waist as he took a deep breath.

Both of them cried out as his hips thrust forward, the penetration deep and sudden; Owen was sure he'd never felt such searing heat before. The Doctor was tighter than he'd expected, the Time Lord's muscles clenching around him almost hard enough to hurt.

His hands moved up to entwine his fingers with the Doctor's, holding the Time Lord against the wall as he thrust forward again. He could lose himself in this sensation; the heat surrounding him was intense, as if he was burning from the inside.

Another thrust .... another .... and another. The Doctor's moans mixed with his own, each growing in strength and intensity until both men were almost crying out in their mutual need, their bodies moving in a primal rhythm.

He knew that he was grinding the Doctor's hips into the wall, and that the other man's cock was probably taking a bit of a beating from it. But he couldn't stop; his body was too insistent, his own need taking him over.

The Doctor cried out Owen's name, his head falling back almost onto the young man's shoulder. Owen lowered his head, pressing his mouth to the Doctor's throat, unable to keep himself from tasting that smooth skin.

Owen could feel his orgasm start to uncoil, slowly taking over his body, until he was gasping and clutching the Doctor's hands, pressing his body as close to the other man's as he could to keep himself standing upright.

He leaned against the Doctor, feeling his heartbeats starting to slow down to normal. The other man was trembling in his arms, but he wasn't pulling away, and he didn't seem at all the worse for wear. Actually, he seemed .... sated, if Owen was any judge.

"I'm sorry that was so sudden," he murmured into the Doctor's ear, pressing a kiss to the Time Lord's throat. "I just .... I don't know what came over me. I had to have you. I couldn't wait."

"It was sudden -- but not unwanted," the Doctor told him, his voice soft and husky. "A bit of an unusual place for the first time between us, but I can't say that I didn't enjoy it. Though --" Owen thought he could detect a dryness in the Doctor's voice -- "Next time, we need lube."

"I'm sorry about that," Owen said, feeling more contrite than ever. "I thought about it -- I was just hoping that I could stretch you enough to where it wouldn't hurt. I won't do that again, Doctor. Is there any way that I can make that up to you?"

"Oh, I can think of several ways that you might be able to make it up to me," the Doctor said, turning his head slightly to look at Owen, a devilish twinkle in his dark eyes. "Though all of them involve us being in the bedroom, not against a wall."

"I think you should start showing me those ways right away," Owen answered, unable to keep a grin from spreading over his face. He took a few steps back, waiting for the Doctor to turn around and face him.

When he did, Owen moved forward, leaning to hook an arm behind the Time Lord's knees and the other around his waist. He scooped the other man up into his arms, heading out of the room they'd been in and in what he hoped was the direction of the bedroom.

He could think of a lot of ways to make things up to the Doctor, too. And he couldn't wait to get started on them -- as quickly as possible.

***