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Smith and Saxon
folder
1 through F › Doctor Who
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,139
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
1 through F › Doctor Who
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,139
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Dr. Who, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
2
John Smith wakes in an unfamiliar setting, confused and slightly panicked. A crackling fire throws shadows across an otherwise dark room. He startles when a hand comes to rest on his shoulder, stands up quickly and then becoming woozy again, grasps on to the sides of the chair for stability.
“Shh, John, it’s alright.” The voice croons in his ear as he uses the hand on his shoulder to ease him back into the chair. “Rest easy, there is no rush.”
John turns his head slightly to look at the hand on his shoulder, the gleaming silver ring with the intricate, familiar design catching in the fire light. He closes his eyes, the image burning bright as the sun behind them. The heat from the fire seems to intensify and he lurches forward as the contents of his stomach creep back up into his throat.
The hand on his shoulders moves up into his hair along with another, soothing him, stroking his scalp in time to gentle words. Fingers brush lightly through his hair, down over his ears and neck and back up again before coming down into smooth strokes over his tense shoulders. He finally settles back into the chair when both hands come to rest on his shoulders.
“Better?” Saxon asks as he removes his hands from John, walks over towards the chair opposite him and sits comfortably.
“I…Saxon…Mister…Sir…” John stutters, embarrassed.
“Harry. John, please; call me Harry.” He leans forward in his chair, eyes on John.
“Harry…I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I don’t usually…Well. My behavior was…How did I get here?” John is still stuttering, unable to meet the eyes of the man before him, choosing instead to focus on the still gleaming ring.
Harry raises an eyebrow as he leans even closer in to John. “I brought you here of course. I tend to have that effect on people, bring out the hedonist in them I suppose….What is it?” He asks when he notices John staring at the ring.
“It’s just…The pattern is so similar…” John gestures towards the ring and reaches into his pocket to find his watch gone.
“I’m so sorry John. You gave us a bit of a fright back at the pub. I got you out of there for some fresh air and when you didn’t come to right away….I brought you here. I went back once I had you situated, to look for it….I’m sorry, it was gone.” Harry brings his hands to rest on John’s knees.
John is quiet at first, unsure of what to say about any of this. His watch is gone; nothing more than the silly artifact of a man he never knew; a legend in his mind, a great Doctor who by all accounts saved anyone he could, a man who John always wanted to be. He is drawn from his thoughts, distracted by the feel of warm hands inching slightly past his knees and once again captured by the intricate silver ring nestled on the fingers of this enigmatic man before him.
“That watch was…It’s my own fault I suppose.” He sighs and gingerly moves his own hand down his legs, stopping just short of skin to skin contact. “May I?” He asks as he takes John’s hand in his, bringing the ring up for a closer look. John studies the ring, holding Harry’s hand delicately in his own, rubbing his thumb over the design as he had done with his watch so many times.
Harry’s skin hums with energy. He closes his eyes to it and runs his free hand further up John’s leg, digging his fingers in a little, scraping at the thick fabric of his trousers, delighting in the way John tenses beneath his touch; nervous.
John is spell bound; the hand inching up his leg leaves a trail of heat behind it. The intelligent side to him knows this shouldn’t happen; understands that this is too fast and too weird, and that the man in front of him, this Harold Saxon, has a ring that matches watch. His now lost watch. John releases Harry’s hand and stands abruptly, prompting Harry to his feet as well. They are inches from each other; the heat between them palpable. There is a look, a moment, a brush of Harry’s fingers against John’s.
“Stay.” Harry says softly.
John swallows hard in reply, pushing past him and headed for the door. “I can’t.” He says before he opens the door to leave.
“Is it the watch?” Harry asks; a tinge of desperation in his voice. “Look, we can go back to that place and look for it….” He continues as John leaves quietly, closing the door behind him.
Harry reaches into his pocket and pulls out the watch before continuing, “I’m sure it will turn up somewhere.”
“Shh, John, it’s alright.” The voice croons in his ear as he uses the hand on his shoulder to ease him back into the chair. “Rest easy, there is no rush.”
John turns his head slightly to look at the hand on his shoulder, the gleaming silver ring with the intricate, familiar design catching in the fire light. He closes his eyes, the image burning bright as the sun behind them. The heat from the fire seems to intensify and he lurches forward as the contents of his stomach creep back up into his throat.
The hand on his shoulders moves up into his hair along with another, soothing him, stroking his scalp in time to gentle words. Fingers brush lightly through his hair, down over his ears and neck and back up again before coming down into smooth strokes over his tense shoulders. He finally settles back into the chair when both hands come to rest on his shoulders.
“Better?” Saxon asks as he removes his hands from John, walks over towards the chair opposite him and sits comfortably.
“I…Saxon…Mister…Sir…” John stutters, embarrassed.
“Harry. John, please; call me Harry.” He leans forward in his chair, eyes on John.
“Harry…I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I don’t usually…Well. My behavior was…How did I get here?” John is still stuttering, unable to meet the eyes of the man before him, choosing instead to focus on the still gleaming ring.
Harry raises an eyebrow as he leans even closer in to John. “I brought you here of course. I tend to have that effect on people, bring out the hedonist in them I suppose….What is it?” He asks when he notices John staring at the ring.
“It’s just…The pattern is so similar…” John gestures towards the ring and reaches into his pocket to find his watch gone.
“I’m so sorry John. You gave us a bit of a fright back at the pub. I got you out of there for some fresh air and when you didn’t come to right away….I brought you here. I went back once I had you situated, to look for it….I’m sorry, it was gone.” Harry brings his hands to rest on John’s knees.
John is quiet at first, unsure of what to say about any of this. His watch is gone; nothing more than the silly artifact of a man he never knew; a legend in his mind, a great Doctor who by all accounts saved anyone he could, a man who John always wanted to be. He is drawn from his thoughts, distracted by the feel of warm hands inching slightly past his knees and once again captured by the intricate silver ring nestled on the fingers of this enigmatic man before him.
“That watch was…It’s my own fault I suppose.” He sighs and gingerly moves his own hand down his legs, stopping just short of skin to skin contact. “May I?” He asks as he takes John’s hand in his, bringing the ring up for a closer look. John studies the ring, holding Harry’s hand delicately in his own, rubbing his thumb over the design as he had done with his watch so many times.
Harry’s skin hums with energy. He closes his eyes to it and runs his free hand further up John’s leg, digging his fingers in a little, scraping at the thick fabric of his trousers, delighting in the way John tenses beneath his touch; nervous.
John is spell bound; the hand inching up his leg leaves a trail of heat behind it. The intelligent side to him knows this shouldn’t happen; understands that this is too fast and too weird, and that the man in front of him, this Harold Saxon, has a ring that matches watch. His now lost watch. John releases Harry’s hand and stands abruptly, prompting Harry to his feet as well. They are inches from each other; the heat between them palpable. There is a look, a moment, a brush of Harry’s fingers against John’s.
“Stay.” Harry says softly.
John swallows hard in reply, pushing past him and headed for the door. “I can’t.” He says before he opens the door to leave.
“Is it the watch?” Harry asks; a tinge of desperation in his voice. “Look, we can go back to that place and look for it….” He continues as John leaves quietly, closing the door behind him.
Harry reaches into his pocket and pulls out the watch before continuing, “I’m sure it will turn up somewhere.”