Chapter 55
Jamie
I move on the mattress, overcome by his touch, his perfect hand moving over my cock, his gaze fixed on me as he watches what he’s doing.
I want to let go and enjoy the moment, but I can’t stop watching him.
I’m obsessed. His dark eyes, messy hair, the desire running over his skin, the veins in his arm bulging.
When he slows and I see his anxious breathing, his mouth half-open, ready to speak, I realise what he is about to do and that I absolutely must avoid him.
I spring up, grab him by the shoulders, force him down onto the bed, then sit on top of him.
I pin his arms and bend over his mouth, pushing my tongue deep into him, silencing whatever he was about to say.
I move over him, my cock straining against his abdomen, as the Doctor lets himself be overcome by me and by the desperation to get him away from everything else.
He struggles, his hands pushing against the restraint. I release him, and he seizes my face with trembling urgency, yanking me down, crushing me to him, as if he’s terrified of ever letting go.
The Doctor craves every part of me, but he’ll have to ache for the pieces I choose to surrender.
His hands slide down my back, gripping my hips with urgent need.
I push against him, desperate for release, my pain turning into longing as the Doctor matches my every move.
Our bodies are tangled in a need so strong it could break me.
At this pace, I’ll come onto his stomach without even letting him touch me.
Then his hand slides down, slowly massaging my opening.
I tear my mouth from his and instinctively arch my back. “Fuck yeah.”
I close my eyes and let myself be carried away by his touch. He keeps working his fingers, massaging me gently, while all I want is for him to finish it — finish me, too.
“Deeper,” I grit out, my voice trembling with need. I open my eyes and lock onto his. His gaze is so dark, so consuming, it threatens to swallow me whole.
The Doctor senses my desperation. With his other hand, he reaches into the bedside table drawer, rummages briefly, and pulls out a bottle.
I try not to think about why he keeps it there, how often he uses it, or whether he always has it ready. I don’t want to know if he expected me tonight or planned to use it with someone else.
I can’t dwell on these questions, or I’ll never escape, and I won’t be able to purge him from my life once I’m finished with him.
He releases me to open the bottle, lets a few drops fall onto his fingers, then tosses it onto the mattress. His magic hand returns to me. I feel him move slowly, circling my opening before a finger finally slips inside.
“Fuck,” I blurt out as I feel him slide inside.
“Yeah, that’s it.” I push harder into his hand, showing him he doesn’t have to go easy on me — that I want all of it, fast, that I need him to empty me before the voices in my head start screaming again.
I move in time with his hand as my cock rubs against his abdomen, staying lifted on my hands to allow him to penetrate me without difficulty.
When I feel him go deeper, I hold my breath and lean over him, resting my head on his chest as he continues to torment and pleasure me with the magic of his fingers.
I push and take them, hoping they’ll slide deeper and strip me of speech and reason, because I don’t want to say or think about anything anymore except him and what he’s doing to me.
He tilts his head, searching for my mouth.
When his teeth catch on my lips, my moans turn into a tangle of pain and longing, aching for release.
Take me away, Doctor.
Anywhere you want, as long as you’re with me.
I pull back from his mouth, my stomach twisting with anxiety as I look at him, pleading.
“I want you to fuck me.”
The Doctor stills, and with him, the whole world stops too.
His eyes widen in surprise, and I can see he’s about to ask, to dig, but I won’t let him. I hush him again, kiss him deeply, and hold him there, keeping him from questioning me, from prying into my thoughts and my fucking life. When I pull away, I say it again, this time almost like a command.
“Fuck me.”
He just looks at me. He seems worried and tense, maybe even more than I am.
Don’t think, Doctor. Just do it.
I have to silence mine and his voices now.
“Fuck me.”
My voice drops a tone, turning strange and distorted. Despair takes over because the Doctor is not like the others. He has always known I’m a mess; he saw it from the very beginning.
He is the one who keeps looking when he should turn away, still searching for an answer he will never get from me, even now.
He kisses me so eagerly I tip over to the side. Maybe he wants to swallow my words, ease my embarrassment, or maybe he finally understands. His hand moves over my face, down my neck and along my side, then quickly back up.
His hand trembles as it rests on my jaw, his eyes wide.
“Are you sure?”
I nod.
He exhales heavily, then turns away.
The bedside table again. Those same restless thoughts again.
He grabs a condom and fumbles with the wrapper, his hands shaking. It’s my fault. I’ve thrown my anxiety, my torment, my guilt at him, hoping he can carry them for me, if only for a few minutes.
“Pass me the bottle. It’s there beside you.”
I reach out an arm and press down on the mattress, searching for what he asked for. I find it and hand it to him. He presses it to his fingers again, then throws it aside and rubs them together before running it over himself as well.
“Do you want to…?”
“No,” I say, stopping him as I lie on my stomach.
I hear his breathing again.
The Doctor is thinking. The Doctor is hurting. The Doctor feels it.
The Doctor knows.
I feel him shift beside me. He gets up and swings one leg over, straddling me. When I try to push myself up onto my knees, he presses me back down, holding me gently but firmly against the mattress.
He isn’t crushing me, and he isn’t trying to dominate me.
He’s just desperately trying to have me.
Ah, Doctor. I knew I’d break you, but I didn’t expect you to break me first.
I feel his fingers again and then the heat of his cock working its way inside me. I breathe slowly as he eases just inside me. I tilt my hips towards him, his hand resting on my back, his breath hot against my skin before his lips, and then the Doctor slides in again, filling me with him.
“Oh God,” he pants against my back. He pauses for a few seconds, then pushes again.
The fullness. The warmth. The vibration of his body pressing into mine. His cock slides into me.
“Doctor…” I gasp, my cheek pressed to the mattress.
“Is everything okay?” he asks.
“More than okay.”
He plants his hands on either side of my chest and uses his feet to nudge my legs farther apart. Then he begins to thrust — slow at first, then harder. The pleasure is so intense, so deep. He feels so good inside me that I fear I’ll never forget it.
It moves, working its way into my body and mind. It reaches in to take, yet somehow only manages to give.
He pushes himself up, his hands gripping my shoulders to guide each thrust, driving deeper to take everything I have left, while my cock rubs painfully against the sheets, seeking relief. His chest presses against my back, his breath warm on my neck, his strength draining the last of mine.
I surrender, letting myself be crushed beneath him, because this is exactly what I want: to believe he will take without reservation, without restraint, without fear.
He slides a hand along my cheek, turning my face towards him before claiming my mouth in a kiss. Oh yes, the Doctor wants to hear my moans in him, to drink my every breath, and to know that he is making me enjoy every second of this. I will not take that pleasure from him.
Feel me, Doctor. Feel everything until there’s nothing left.
He thrusts his tongue into my mouth, pushing deep. One hand lifts me higher, holding me tight against him.
He wants closeness; he wants everything.
Fucking the Captain isn’t enough for him.
The Doctor wants me.
The Doctor wants Jamie.
He leaves my mouth and brings his lips to my ear. “Touch yourself.” His voice is a trail of fire down my spine.
I reach for my cock and squeeze it hard in my hand.
It doesn’t take much; the situation is already at breaking point, and I’m on the verge of coming with just a few more thrusts.
I move my hand over my cock as the Doctor sinks into me repeatedly.
The rhythm quickens; his breathing does too.
He is about to explode, and I am about to burst into a million tiny, useless pieces.
“Fuck… Fuck…” A few more frantic movements, and then the Doctor stiffens; I hear him let out a long moan that dovetails with mine as I come in my hand.
He doesn’t slump over, crush me, or simply bask in post-coital bliss.
The Doctor gives his all to the end, even when he doesn’t have to.
He kisses slowly down my spine, his warm lips tracing each vertebra as his heavy breathing and the heat he radiates wash over me — his sweetness the worst of it all.
I can’t take it. It’s unbearable, yet impossible to give up.
It sends a sharp ache through my chest, one I fear will finally break me.
And I can’t let that happen, not while the Doctor is still inside me.