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I was talking to Margo about how much David Tennant's physical appears seemed similiar to that of Aidan Gillen, or rather his character - Stuart Alan Jones. Slim, petite, etc. And how Vince would get off on seeing a Doctor Who who in that way, reminded him of Stuart. Welllll, that led to this marvelous little fic!!! I provided the plot outline, and she went to town on creating the "Theme" of a Doctor Who Surprise Party for Vince! Soooo, guess who gets to be Doctor Who? Hehe... And guess who gets to be Captain Jack???? THUD....... If you're a fan of Stuart/Vince, QAF, Doctor Who - or the image of Doctor Who shagging Captain Jack - this is the fic for you!!!! Spread the word, and leave Margo feedback, too!!! She deserves it!
Hugs
xof
Title: Surprise!
Author: Margo
E-mail: e_margo0308@yahoo.ca
Fandom: QaF UK
Featuring: SAJ/VT
Spoiler: None
Summary: Stuart throws a surprise ‘Theme’ housewarming party, surprising Vince in more ways than one.
Rating: NC17
Warning: None
Genre: Porn with plot? Porn without plot? You decide. lol
Disclaimers: QaF, the series, characters and concepts are the property, copyright, and trademark of RTD and Channel Four. No ownership is claimed by the author, this work is non-profit, non-commercial and not for sale and may not be reproduced or sold for commercial purposes. Characters and situations not specifically owned by the creators of QaF are the sole copyright of the author.
Archive: ATP and S&V group
Feedback: god yes please!
Thanks: to xof, for the plot bunny, and giving great muse.
Thanks: to Annie, for the fast and thorough beta!
***
“Vince! Oi, Vince!” Stuart started his yelling before he had the door kicked closed behind him, a shopping bag in each hand.
“What?”
“Where are ye?”
“Kitchen!”
Stuart walked up behind Vince, nuzzling “Hello” into the back of his neck, his hands still holding the bags. “Whatcha doin’?”
“Gettin’ our crisps ‘n’ drinks ready, o’ course. It’s almost seven o’clock, Stuart! I was beginning to worry you weren’t gonna be home in time, and you’d miss the start.”
“God, we can’t have that! Even if you do have both the video and the DVD set to record.”
Vince placed bowl and glasses on the tray on K9, blatantly ignoring Stuart’s attempt at taking the piss. “Looks like it’s just us tonight. Don’t know where everyone is.” Ever since the series had started up the year before, he’d been hosting ‘Watch’ parties on Saturday evenings, what with their huge telly and all, before they’d all head out to the Street for the night’s entertainment. “Not even Matt came, and he’s a *huge* fan.” He picked up the dog’s receiver and turned it on, moving the toggle stick and K9 forward.
“Set that thing down and come with me. I bought you something.”
“Stuart, it’s like quarter to, I’ll look after, yeah? Oh, Hazel rang, had a right go at me for us not havin’ a house warming party yet. Like it’s all -”
“Never no mind that, this won’t take long at all. Oh Christ, all right. What the fuck, we can do this in the lounge too. Go on then, hurry it up.”
He was seated on the sofa, already pulling smaller bags out of the large ones, by the time Vince had ‘walked’ K9 out of the kitchen and over. From one he took out a white t-shirt and from the other a pair of black leather trousers.
“Jesus Vince, speed that dog moves, *you’re* gonna miss the start. Why’n’t you put stuff on a tray, carry it out yourself and put it on ‘im when you get here? Here, put these on.”
“What would be the fun in that? ‘Sides, I’m no maid. What… why… a white t-shirt? I have a drawer full. Stuart, what are you like? It can wait.”
“No, it can’t. Don’t ye recognise the clothes?”
Vince furrowed his brow in consternation, shaking his head.
“Didn’t you tell me tonight was the night we finally get to see Captain Jack again?”
“Yeah. And?”
“Well, look!” Stuart waved the pants in front of Vince. “In honour of his re-appearance I got you these. Thought you could dress the part.” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “You know how much I like you in leather.”
“Thought that was how much you like me *out* of leather,” Vince snickered. “That look in your eye, ‘course I’ll put ‘em on, just so’s you can take ‘em off.”
Stuart quickly finished unpacking the items he’d bought. Along with the trousers and t-shirt was a black leather waistcoat and wrist band.
He turned and rose up on his knees on sofa beside Vince, and tugged off the soft cotton jumper, Vince didn’t even protest, compliant with arms raised to help so he wouldn’t waste time. Same when Stuart tugged at the waistband of his track pants, he lifted up slightly so they could be pulled down and off.
In the second Vince’s attention was distracted by checking on the time, Stuart’s hand was already worming its way under the last bit of cotton between him and his intent. “Stuart, I’ll never get the zip up if I’m hard.”
“Fine. Then I’ll wait ‘til after you’ve got ‘em on.” Stuart rolled gracefully off the sofa, onto his knees on the floor, and held the trousers in place for Vince to step into.
Stuart remained there, looking up through his lashes, and watched with unconcealed interest while Vince first set his package into the tight trousers and carefully manoeuvred the zipper up over a burgeoning hard-on, then put the white t-shirt on and the waistcoat.
“Do it up too Vince.” Stuart’s voice was soft, and he made no move to get up. Vince quickly zipped the waistcoat closed and sat down again right in time as the familiar music to Dr. Who sounded around them – the surround speakers part of the latest and best home theatre system they’d had this room specially designed for in their new home as the show resumed, catching and holding Stuart’s hands that were already on his knees and slowly stroking over the leather, and up his thighs.
“Behave, Stuart. Behave. Bloody hell, look at that. Captain Jack *is* back! Turn around and look, you idiot!” Vince yelled at the image of the Doctor on screen.
Stuart smiled, quite used to Vince’s total involvement in *his* show, but that never stopped him from doing his best to distract his mate. Ever since the reborn series had begun broadcasting Stuart had made it his goal to try and seduce Vince away from watching. He moved up onto the seat beside Vince, and with one hand left resting on Vince’s leg, he nuzzled his nose against Vince’s ear. “Mmm, so he is. Shame he’s not wearing the leathers. Not that it matters. Look better on you. Feel better on you too. Oops, almost forgot this.” He pulled Vince’s right arm into his lap, and fastened the wide leather strap on his wrist.
He twined one of his hands with Vince’s, and arched his hips, making sure Vince could feel his hard-on. With the other, he traced his fingers lightly over the edge of the band, and on up to and back down from, the sleeve cap of the t-shirt, only to be ignored. He leaned in and nipped at Vince’s ear lobe, “Oh, don’t mind me. Christ, I swear, I’m gonna have to *be* the Doctor to get you to pay me any attention.”
“Mmm… huh? What?” Vince was distracted, but whether it was because of what he was watching or what he was feeling, was six of one, half dozen of another.
Vince came as close as he never thought he’d ever would to wishing the show was over. Not that he’d admit it, he liked making Stuart work at seduction. Which, since the second season had started with the new Doctor, had become increasingly easier. Vince fancied David Tennant no end, the slim body and agility reminding him of Stuart with every glance and move.
The show finally over, Vince turned to Stuart, more than ready to finish what the Irishman had been trying to start for the past 44 and a half minutes, only to have Stuart jump up and head for the stairs at the same time the front door bell sounded.
“Get that, would ya?” he called over his shoulder before disappearing ‘round the corner of the upstairs’ hall.
***
“Surprise!”
Standing on the front porch and spilling back and out onto the front pavement all the way over to the garage was what looked the runaway cast from Cardiff.
The crowd - multiple Dr. Whos, mostly Doctor Numbers Four and Five, the trademark slouch hat and colourful scarves or pink and yellow coats readily visible, and assorted monsters and companions and series’ characters, from old shows and the current – milled about, smiling and holding brightly wrapped boxes and bottles and covered plates.
And right at the front, the one who’d been ringing the bell non-stop was his mum.
“Hazel! What -?”
“That’s Auntie Jackie to you, young man. You should recognise family when you see ‘em, us Tylers are always the good looking ones.”
“Well you knob, you lettin’ us in or is this gonna be a front garden warmin’ party?” There was no mistaking Alex’s voice.
“Huh? Uh, yeah, yeah, ‘course, come on in. Party? We’re havin’ a party?”
“Yes, we are. Stuart’s had me working all sorts getting it all done without you knowing.” Sandra – her breasts almost spilling out of a very low-cut gown, powdered wig atop her head, and heart-shaped beauty mark beside her lips – squeezed past him. “Boneswar Monsoor Oo-la-la Jacque, you may call me Rienette,” Madame de Pompadour said to him, in a terrible attempt at French. “Ees a Theme Partee, no? Vee are all with Le Doc-ter, here for… how you say? Warming the house.” Vince’s nose wrinkled at the mix of perfume and rum she trailed as she waltzed on inside. Mind, by the looks of this lot, he had no doubt they’d *all* been *warming up* themselves for the housewarming.
“Papa, Papa!”
“Alfie, NO! Don’t -” his next word, “Run,” died on his lips as the little boy stumbled on the ends of the long scarf wound ‘round him, making him look more like a crayon-crazed mummy than Doctor Number Four, and caught himself from falling at the last minute by throwing his arms around and holding tight to Vince’s knees until he was picked up and held safe in his Da Number Two’s arms.
“Hiya Vince. D’ya want us to take him?” Romey asked, as she and Lisa stopped beside him, each kissing him on a cheek. Both women wore silky white gowns, with thigh-high slits at the front revealing knee-high silver boots. Lisa’s, in particular, was slinky and seductive, in sharp contrast to her dark hair, which in turn was a contrast to Romey’s wig of long blonde hair.
“No, no, ‘s fine. Haven’t seen ‘im since last Saturday, I’ve missed my co-anorak.” He watched the two women walk on by, trying to figure out their characters. “Alfie, who are your mums?”
“They both the same. Dif’rent ‘gen… re-gen-rations. You know, Papa, when we watched the one Da got you for your birthday, the one with the girl Time Lord.”
“Right. Romana. Oh, that’s perfect. Your da’s gonna love that. Now, we’d better get inside too, it’s cold out here. And you, Doctor Who, are getting too big to carry. Now, remember, *no* running.”
“Yes, Cap’n Jack.” The little boy’s grin was as mischievous as his father’s. “Papa? How come you’re dressed up? Da said was s’posed to be a surprise.”
“Oh, it’s a surprise all right Alfie. You know your dad, he’s always talking me into all sorts. Now, you, scoot, over there to your Granny Hazel -”
“Auntie Jackie, Papa.”
“Right. Auntie Jackie, and get some crisps ‘fore they’re all gone.”
Vince felt something hard hit the back of his legs and he turned to see an apologetic Bernie standing behind him, holding out a glass to him, ever widening circles of silver-painted cardboard hanging off shoulder straps. “Sorry ‘bout that, Vince. I can’t seem to manage bein’ bigger on the bottom than on the top. Here ya go, figured you’d be ready for a G&T by now.”
“Ta. Didn’t know Daleks were mind readers. Nice outfit.”
Bernie snorted. “Yeah, right. Your mother wanted me to wear roller blades. Can you imagine? This lot, they’d wheel me to the top o’ the hill and gi’ me a push.”
Vince laughed, thinking Bernie had the right of it, and took a long sip of the ice cold and tart drink. “Mmm, this is perfect. Matt must be here, yeah? Wonder who he came as?” Bernie just grinned in response, and Vince laughed, shaking his head. “Right, three guesses and the first two don’t count. The Brigadier. Blimey, him and his uniforms, ‘s a bloody fetish. He’s worse’n me.”
“Hiya Vince. Oooo, *Captain Jack*. You look smashing.”
“Cor, you too, Nyssa.” Donna really did look fabulous. A tiny crown was perfectly set atop a mass of curls, and she’d even found a piece of faux fur and sown it on her collar. “*Nice* jacket. Velvet?”
“Yeah. It’s me mum’s. She has this whole trunk full of clothes from her hippie days. It’s brill. Did ya see Nathan?”
“Nathan’s here? Isn’t he in the middle of his examinations?”
“His last one got put off ‘til next week. So we had to think fast to come up with a character for him. You’ll never guess! God, you’re either gonna have a right laugh or toss him out in the street.”
“Vinnie! Ooo, you look *fab*!” Vince was grabbed by the shoulders and air kissed by an elaborately made up Alex, who took a step back and held his arms out, striking a pose. “What do you think? Am I *the* perfect Jareb or what?”
Vince’s grin was huge, his face the picture of delight. “You’re no bigger ‘n a willow, luv, and -” he hesitated, trying to think of another way to compliment the martyred tree lady.
“I know, *everyone* wants to feel my bark. And,” Alex wiggled his twig fingers, “I give great wood-ons! Oh dear, your glass is empty. Allow me, Cap’n Jack, back in a flash.” Giggling at his own wit, he took the glass from Vince’s hand and walked off best he could given the tight stiffness of his sheath of a dress.
Vince looked around, trying to find Stuart. He was beginning to wonder where ‘Mr. Aren’t I a Clever Bastard’ was, and he thought he caught a glimpse of familiar dark hair when his attention was diverted by a vision in black, black, and more black, including the black scowl on his face. Of course, he thought, who else would Dane McAteer be other than the Master? Bloody hell, and if he wasn’t mistaken the robe looked to be original or a right enough copy – the collar stood high and stiff, adorned with silver. Trouble was, even after all these years, he was still never sure if the dour man’s expression was a happy scowl or a scowl scowl.
Not in the mood to discover which it was this time, Vince moved in the direction of where he thought he’d seen what could have been Stuart when Alex’s loud scream of ‘Oh my God!’ caught his attention and he looked over to see brown and green arms waving frantically in front of… it couldn’t be. Then again, he wouldn’t put it past Stuart Alan Jones to convince *anyone* to come to his party.
He walked closer, his eyes taking in every detail of the long brown coat, draping slim shoulders to perfection, a glimpse of striped trousers barely visible below the ankle length hem.
Still a couple of yards away, Alex looked up and saw him. “Vince! There you are! I didn’t forget you; I was just coming with your drink.”
The man he’d been talking to turned around and Vince came to a halt, stopped dead in his tracks taking in the vision before him, his eyes travelled slowly from the converse trainers, up over the impeccably tailored suit, the stripes drawing the eyes up long slim legs, perfectly narrow hips and waist, to the loose tie and top-button-open shirt, exposing the hollow at the base of a throat he could almost taste. Finally he looked at the face. Familiar in recognition, yet also familiar in unfamiliarity. Dark framed glasses drew attention to cerulean eyes already framed by a curtain of midnight lashes, and the silky curls that he loved to muss with his fingers had been gelled almost smooth.
“Guh,” Vince’s mouth was dry as dust and filled with saliva all at the once, the choked word a soft and low whisper. Stuart *was* the tenth Doctor, the Doctor that Vince fancied no end because he reminded him of Stuart. Suddenly he was thankful for the black leather trousers, colour and material that wouldn’t show the wet spot that his very hard cock *had* to be making; he was probably leaking like a bloody teenager.
The object of his lust smirked knowingly, and simply tilted his head in the direction of the stairs, he didn’t say a word. And neither did Vince. He turned on his heel, trying for and, he was sure, failing miserably, at nonchalance, and as quickly as he could, given the state of him, hurried across the room and on up to their bedroom - feeling the deep bass beat around him, music he didn’t hear - through the throng of people he politely acknowledged, but didn’t see. He didn’t have to look to know Stuart was hard on his heels and, he couldn’t help but smile to himself, he hoped in more ways than the one.
Not two steps into their bedroom, and the next thing Vince knew, the door was pushed closed and he was pushed up against it, hard. Everything was hard – the door, his cock, and the cock pushing against his arse.
Breath hot against his ear, Stuart’s voice was rough with urgency, “What d’ye think, *Jack*, wanna get fucked by a Time Lord?”
“Guh,” was the extent of Vince’s capability at speech, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this turned on, not since the last time. Instead he fumbled at the front of his trousers, somehow making his fingers work to pull down the zipper, and feeling hot hands at his hips, helping him push them down his thighs, he managed to croak, “Thank you.”
Stuart couldn’t stop a wolfish smile, this was one fantasy he knew very well, and had been dying as much to give Vince as he knew Vince had been waiting to have him do. He had lube and fingers inside of that fabulous tight arse quick enough to put a former shag king to shame, and a well-slicked and diamond-hard cock pushing at the puckered opening, nudging for permission. “Ready?” he growled.
“Guh!” Vince pushed his hips back, and spread his legs as far as the trousers crumpled at his knees would allow, hoping Stuart would understand he meant yes, yes, and please now yes.
The fuck was fast and rough… fantastic, without a doubt another one of many fantastic fucks for the memory books.
“Next one’s with the camera,” Stuart said, his lips curved in a well-satisfied, well-pleased-with-himself smirk, he’d finished cleaning them both up and reassembling their outfits.
Vince pulled him close and kissed him long and deep, tongues duelling in a familiar dance. Matching Stuart’s grin, he announced the title, “Filmed Live and In Colour, ‘Captain Jack Shags the Doctor’.”
***
They stood beside each other, fresh drinks in hand, after an unobtrusive and, they thought, unnoticed, return to the party.
“Going well then, is it lads?” Hazel joined them, trying to turn a knowing smile into a scowl. “Blimey, more’n six years, and you two still can’t keep your hands off each other.”
“And you, you nosy old woman,” Stuart gave her a wet smack of a kiss on her cheek, “love it.”
“Oi, careful who you’re calling old there, Stuart Jones. You’re fast catching up with me.”
Their attention was caught by the sight of Romey and Lisa walking toward them, their hips swaying and silver boots sparkling, catching the light with each step.
Stuart broke into laughter, his recognition instant, and he looked at Vince over Hazel’s head.
“Romanadvoratrelundar!” they both said at the same time, greeting the two women.
Hazel joined in their laughter; she also remembered their youthful test for sobriety. “I’ll go get us the next round then, lads, shall I? You’re obviously up for more,” she wandered off in the direction of the bar.
Before Stuart had a chance to have a go at Lisa for *trying* to carry off being a Time Lord, his attention was diverted by Vince’s “Oh my God!” and he looked to see what was cause for the outburst.
His mate was holding onto his shoulder, almost doubled over in laughter, and after several failed attempts at talking, finally managed to say, “Twelve o’clock! The Chicken has landed!”
Romey and Lisa turned to look, and all three joined Vince in his laughter, the sound carrying across the room to the object of their glee. Nathan looked up, and moved to join them. Between the wide smile that lit his face, and the old school uniform he wore, he looked exactly like the 15-year-old brat he’d been six years earlier.
“Well, well, look who’s here. Little boy Nathan.” Stuart grinned in greeting. Even after all these years, and Nathan long since safely relegated to being a friend, albeit a young one, he could never resist having a go.
“That’s Vislor Turlough to you, please and thank you.” Nathan nodded his hello, nonplussed – he’d been taught by the best. “Doctor, Cap’n Jack. Look at you, an old married couple.”
“Mmm, only we’re still shaggin’, so don’t be getting your hopes up any.”
“Stuart! Behave.” Vince managed to say, between hiccoughs.
“Why should I start now? Twat,” Stuart added; affection evident. “Serves you right for laughing.”
The five of them were having a loose group hug when Alex flurried into their midst, small arms and a long scarf wound around his neck. “Break it up, you lot. It’s time for -”
“Pressies!” Alfie piped up, clinging to Alex’s shoulders.
***
“One more,” Stuart drew an envelope out of his coat’s inside pocket, and handed it to Vince. The two of them were sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of a pile of gifts and torn wrapping paper, covered in clinging ribbons and bows.
Vince blushed, looking shy and adorable, “But I don’t have anything for you… I didn’t know -”
“Oh, I think you’ve got *some… thing* for me all right. *Later*.” Stuart waggled his eyebrows, everyone’s laughter deepening Vince’s blush. “Well? Go on then, open it.”
“Oh! Oh my God!” Vince broke into a huge grin looking at the cards he’d pulled out of the envelope, and threw his arms around Stuart. “This is *fantastic*! *You’re* fantastic.”
Stuart couldn’t help it; he looked as pleased as he felt. “So, you like it then?”
“Like it? I *love* it!” Vince ducked his head, still blushing furiously. “God, I’m *so* sad.”
The two of them were jarred out of their little world by a chorus of “What is it?” shouted by their friends.
“Reservations for a week at the SACO in Cardiff, and a stage pass for the set of Dr. Who.” Vince couldn’t stop smiling.
***
“Bye! Fuck,” Stuart said, closing the door after their last guest, “I thought they’d never leave.” he turned and pulled Vince close, hands warm and firm on leather-clad hips.
Vince cocked his head slightly to the side, a familiar small smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “So, what now, Doctor?”
Stuart returned the smile, and murmured, his lips brushing Vince’s, “Press the button, dematerialise, step out, new planet.”
end
ETA: This story has since been betaed, and reworked by Margo - so have fun reading it again!!!
Hugs
xof
Title: Surprise!
Author: Margo
E-mail: e_margo0308@yahoo.ca
Fandom: QaF UK
Featuring: SAJ/VT
Spoiler: None
Summary: Stuart throws a surprise ‘Theme’ housewarming party, surprising Vince in more ways than one.
Rating: NC17
Warning: None
Genre: Porn with plot? Porn without plot? You decide. lol
Disclaimers: QaF, the series, characters and concepts are the property, copyright, and trademark of RTD and Channel Four. No ownership is claimed by the author, this work is non-profit, non-commercial and not for sale and may not be reproduced or sold for commercial purposes. Characters and situations not specifically owned by the creators of QaF are the sole copyright of the author.
Archive: ATP and S&V group
Feedback: god yes please!
Thanks: to xof, for the plot bunny, and giving great muse.
Thanks: to Annie, for the fast and thorough beta!
***
“Vince! Oi, Vince!” Stuart started his yelling before he had the door kicked closed behind him, a shopping bag in each hand.
“What?”
“Where are ye?”
“Kitchen!”
Stuart walked up behind Vince, nuzzling “Hello” into the back of his neck, his hands still holding the bags. “Whatcha doin’?”
“Gettin’ our crisps ‘n’ drinks ready, o’ course. It’s almost seven o’clock, Stuart! I was beginning to worry you weren’t gonna be home in time, and you’d miss the start.”
“God, we can’t have that! Even if you do have both the video and the DVD set to record.”
Vince placed bowl and glasses on the tray on K9, blatantly ignoring Stuart’s attempt at taking the piss. “Looks like it’s just us tonight. Don’t know where everyone is.” Ever since the series had started up the year before, he’d been hosting ‘Watch’ parties on Saturday evenings, what with their huge telly and all, before they’d all head out to the Street for the night’s entertainment. “Not even Matt came, and he’s a *huge* fan.” He picked up the dog’s receiver and turned it on, moving the toggle stick and K9 forward.
“Set that thing down and come with me. I bought you something.”
“Stuart, it’s like quarter to, I’ll look after, yeah? Oh, Hazel rang, had a right go at me for us not havin’ a house warming party yet. Like it’s all -”
“Never no mind that, this won’t take long at all. Oh Christ, all right. What the fuck, we can do this in the lounge too. Go on then, hurry it up.”
He was seated on the sofa, already pulling smaller bags out of the large ones, by the time Vince had ‘walked’ K9 out of the kitchen and over. From one he took out a white t-shirt and from the other a pair of black leather trousers.
“Jesus Vince, speed that dog moves, *you’re* gonna miss the start. Why’n’t you put stuff on a tray, carry it out yourself and put it on ‘im when you get here? Here, put these on.”
“What would be the fun in that? ‘Sides, I’m no maid. What… why… a white t-shirt? I have a drawer full. Stuart, what are you like? It can wait.”
“No, it can’t. Don’t ye recognise the clothes?”
Vince furrowed his brow in consternation, shaking his head.
“Didn’t you tell me tonight was the night we finally get to see Captain Jack again?”
“Yeah. And?”
“Well, look!” Stuart waved the pants in front of Vince. “In honour of his re-appearance I got you these. Thought you could dress the part.” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “You know how much I like you in leather.”
“Thought that was how much you like me *out* of leather,” Vince snickered. “That look in your eye, ‘course I’ll put ‘em on, just so’s you can take ‘em off.”
Stuart quickly finished unpacking the items he’d bought. Along with the trousers and t-shirt was a black leather waistcoat and wrist band.
He turned and rose up on his knees on sofa beside Vince, and tugged off the soft cotton jumper, Vince didn’t even protest, compliant with arms raised to help so he wouldn’t waste time. Same when Stuart tugged at the waistband of his track pants, he lifted up slightly so they could be pulled down and off.
In the second Vince’s attention was distracted by checking on the time, Stuart’s hand was already worming its way under the last bit of cotton between him and his intent. “Stuart, I’ll never get the zip up if I’m hard.”
“Fine. Then I’ll wait ‘til after you’ve got ‘em on.” Stuart rolled gracefully off the sofa, onto his knees on the floor, and held the trousers in place for Vince to step into.
Stuart remained there, looking up through his lashes, and watched with unconcealed interest while Vince first set his package into the tight trousers and carefully manoeuvred the zipper up over a burgeoning hard-on, then put the white t-shirt on and the waistcoat.
“Do it up too Vince.” Stuart’s voice was soft, and he made no move to get up. Vince quickly zipped the waistcoat closed and sat down again right in time as the familiar music to Dr. Who sounded around them – the surround speakers part of the latest and best home theatre system they’d had this room specially designed for in their new home as the show resumed, catching and holding Stuart’s hands that were already on his knees and slowly stroking over the leather, and up his thighs.
“Behave, Stuart. Behave. Bloody hell, look at that. Captain Jack *is* back! Turn around and look, you idiot!” Vince yelled at the image of the Doctor on screen.
Stuart smiled, quite used to Vince’s total involvement in *his* show, but that never stopped him from doing his best to distract his mate. Ever since the reborn series had begun broadcasting Stuart had made it his goal to try and seduce Vince away from watching. He moved up onto the seat beside Vince, and with one hand left resting on Vince’s leg, he nuzzled his nose against Vince’s ear. “Mmm, so he is. Shame he’s not wearing the leathers. Not that it matters. Look better on you. Feel better on you too. Oops, almost forgot this.” He pulled Vince’s right arm into his lap, and fastened the wide leather strap on his wrist.
He twined one of his hands with Vince’s, and arched his hips, making sure Vince could feel his hard-on. With the other, he traced his fingers lightly over the edge of the band, and on up to and back down from, the sleeve cap of the t-shirt, only to be ignored. He leaned in and nipped at Vince’s ear lobe, “Oh, don’t mind me. Christ, I swear, I’m gonna have to *be* the Doctor to get you to pay me any attention.”
“Mmm… huh? What?” Vince was distracted, but whether it was because of what he was watching or what he was feeling, was six of one, half dozen of another.
Vince came as close as he never thought he’d ever would to wishing the show was over. Not that he’d admit it, he liked making Stuart work at seduction. Which, since the second season had started with the new Doctor, had become increasingly easier. Vince fancied David Tennant no end, the slim body and agility reminding him of Stuart with every glance and move.
The show finally over, Vince turned to Stuart, more than ready to finish what the Irishman had been trying to start for the past 44 and a half minutes, only to have Stuart jump up and head for the stairs at the same time the front door bell sounded.
“Get that, would ya?” he called over his shoulder before disappearing ‘round the corner of the upstairs’ hall.
***
“Surprise!”
Standing on the front porch and spilling back and out onto the front pavement all the way over to the garage was what looked the runaway cast from Cardiff.
The crowd - multiple Dr. Whos, mostly Doctor Numbers Four and Five, the trademark slouch hat and colourful scarves or pink and yellow coats readily visible, and assorted monsters and companions and series’ characters, from old shows and the current – milled about, smiling and holding brightly wrapped boxes and bottles and covered plates.
And right at the front, the one who’d been ringing the bell non-stop was his mum.
“Hazel! What -?”
“That’s Auntie Jackie to you, young man. You should recognise family when you see ‘em, us Tylers are always the good looking ones.”
“Well you knob, you lettin’ us in or is this gonna be a front garden warmin’ party?” There was no mistaking Alex’s voice.
“Huh? Uh, yeah, yeah, ‘course, come on in. Party? We’re havin’ a party?”
“Yes, we are. Stuart’s had me working all sorts getting it all done without you knowing.” Sandra – her breasts almost spilling out of a very low-cut gown, powdered wig atop her head, and heart-shaped beauty mark beside her lips – squeezed past him. “Boneswar Monsoor Oo-la-la Jacque, you may call me Rienette,” Madame de Pompadour said to him, in a terrible attempt at French. “Ees a Theme Partee, no? Vee are all with Le Doc-ter, here for… how you say? Warming the house.” Vince’s nose wrinkled at the mix of perfume and rum she trailed as she waltzed on inside. Mind, by the looks of this lot, he had no doubt they’d *all* been *warming up* themselves for the housewarming.
“Papa, Papa!”
“Alfie, NO! Don’t -” his next word, “Run,” died on his lips as the little boy stumbled on the ends of the long scarf wound ‘round him, making him look more like a crayon-crazed mummy than Doctor Number Four, and caught himself from falling at the last minute by throwing his arms around and holding tight to Vince’s knees until he was picked up and held safe in his Da Number Two’s arms.
“Hiya Vince. D’ya want us to take him?” Romey asked, as she and Lisa stopped beside him, each kissing him on a cheek. Both women wore silky white gowns, with thigh-high slits at the front revealing knee-high silver boots. Lisa’s, in particular, was slinky and seductive, in sharp contrast to her dark hair, which in turn was a contrast to Romey’s wig of long blonde hair.
“No, no, ‘s fine. Haven’t seen ‘im since last Saturday, I’ve missed my co-anorak.” He watched the two women walk on by, trying to figure out their characters. “Alfie, who are your mums?”
“They both the same. Dif’rent ‘gen… re-gen-rations. You know, Papa, when we watched the one Da got you for your birthday, the one with the girl Time Lord.”
“Right. Romana. Oh, that’s perfect. Your da’s gonna love that. Now, we’d better get inside too, it’s cold out here. And you, Doctor Who, are getting too big to carry. Now, remember, *no* running.”
“Yes, Cap’n Jack.” The little boy’s grin was as mischievous as his father’s. “Papa? How come you’re dressed up? Da said was s’posed to be a surprise.”
“Oh, it’s a surprise all right Alfie. You know your dad, he’s always talking me into all sorts. Now, you, scoot, over there to your Granny Hazel -”
“Auntie Jackie, Papa.”
“Right. Auntie Jackie, and get some crisps ‘fore they’re all gone.”
Vince felt something hard hit the back of his legs and he turned to see an apologetic Bernie standing behind him, holding out a glass to him, ever widening circles of silver-painted cardboard hanging off shoulder straps. “Sorry ‘bout that, Vince. I can’t seem to manage bein’ bigger on the bottom than on the top. Here ya go, figured you’d be ready for a G&T by now.”
“Ta. Didn’t know Daleks were mind readers. Nice outfit.”
Bernie snorted. “Yeah, right. Your mother wanted me to wear roller blades. Can you imagine? This lot, they’d wheel me to the top o’ the hill and gi’ me a push.”
Vince laughed, thinking Bernie had the right of it, and took a long sip of the ice cold and tart drink. “Mmm, this is perfect. Matt must be here, yeah? Wonder who he came as?” Bernie just grinned in response, and Vince laughed, shaking his head. “Right, three guesses and the first two don’t count. The Brigadier. Blimey, him and his uniforms, ‘s a bloody fetish. He’s worse’n me.”
“Hiya Vince. Oooo, *Captain Jack*. You look smashing.”
“Cor, you too, Nyssa.” Donna really did look fabulous. A tiny crown was perfectly set atop a mass of curls, and she’d even found a piece of faux fur and sown it on her collar. “*Nice* jacket. Velvet?”
“Yeah. It’s me mum’s. She has this whole trunk full of clothes from her hippie days. It’s brill. Did ya see Nathan?”
“Nathan’s here? Isn’t he in the middle of his examinations?”
“His last one got put off ‘til next week. So we had to think fast to come up with a character for him. You’ll never guess! God, you’re either gonna have a right laugh or toss him out in the street.”
“Vinnie! Ooo, you look *fab*!” Vince was grabbed by the shoulders and air kissed by an elaborately made up Alex, who took a step back and held his arms out, striking a pose. “What do you think? Am I *the* perfect Jareb or what?”
Vince’s grin was huge, his face the picture of delight. “You’re no bigger ‘n a willow, luv, and -” he hesitated, trying to think of another way to compliment the martyred tree lady.
“I know, *everyone* wants to feel my bark. And,” Alex wiggled his twig fingers, “I give great wood-ons! Oh dear, your glass is empty. Allow me, Cap’n Jack, back in a flash.” Giggling at his own wit, he took the glass from Vince’s hand and walked off best he could given the tight stiffness of his sheath of a dress.
Vince looked around, trying to find Stuart. He was beginning to wonder where ‘Mr. Aren’t I a Clever Bastard’ was, and he thought he caught a glimpse of familiar dark hair when his attention was diverted by a vision in black, black, and more black, including the black scowl on his face. Of course, he thought, who else would Dane McAteer be other than the Master? Bloody hell, and if he wasn’t mistaken the robe looked to be original or a right enough copy – the collar stood high and stiff, adorned with silver. Trouble was, even after all these years, he was still never sure if the dour man’s expression was a happy scowl or a scowl scowl.
Not in the mood to discover which it was this time, Vince moved in the direction of where he thought he’d seen what could have been Stuart when Alex’s loud scream of ‘Oh my God!’ caught his attention and he looked over to see brown and green arms waving frantically in front of… it couldn’t be. Then again, he wouldn’t put it past Stuart Alan Jones to convince *anyone* to come to his party.
He walked closer, his eyes taking in every detail of the long brown coat, draping slim shoulders to perfection, a glimpse of striped trousers barely visible below the ankle length hem.
Still a couple of yards away, Alex looked up and saw him. “Vince! There you are! I didn’t forget you; I was just coming with your drink.”
The man he’d been talking to turned around and Vince came to a halt, stopped dead in his tracks taking in the vision before him, his eyes travelled slowly from the converse trainers, up over the impeccably tailored suit, the stripes drawing the eyes up long slim legs, perfectly narrow hips and waist, to the loose tie and top-button-open shirt, exposing the hollow at the base of a throat he could almost taste. Finally he looked at the face. Familiar in recognition, yet also familiar in unfamiliarity. Dark framed glasses drew attention to cerulean eyes already framed by a curtain of midnight lashes, and the silky curls that he loved to muss with his fingers had been gelled almost smooth.
“Guh,” Vince’s mouth was dry as dust and filled with saliva all at the once, the choked word a soft and low whisper. Stuart *was* the tenth Doctor, the Doctor that Vince fancied no end because he reminded him of Stuart. Suddenly he was thankful for the black leather trousers, colour and material that wouldn’t show the wet spot that his very hard cock *had* to be making; he was probably leaking like a bloody teenager.
The object of his lust smirked knowingly, and simply tilted his head in the direction of the stairs, he didn’t say a word. And neither did Vince. He turned on his heel, trying for and, he was sure, failing miserably, at nonchalance, and as quickly as he could, given the state of him, hurried across the room and on up to their bedroom - feeling the deep bass beat around him, music he didn’t hear - through the throng of people he politely acknowledged, but didn’t see. He didn’t have to look to know Stuart was hard on his heels and, he couldn’t help but smile to himself, he hoped in more ways than the one.
Not two steps into their bedroom, and the next thing Vince knew, the door was pushed closed and he was pushed up against it, hard. Everything was hard – the door, his cock, and the cock pushing against his arse.
Breath hot against his ear, Stuart’s voice was rough with urgency, “What d’ye think, *Jack*, wanna get fucked by a Time Lord?”
“Guh,” was the extent of Vince’s capability at speech, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this turned on, not since the last time. Instead he fumbled at the front of his trousers, somehow making his fingers work to pull down the zipper, and feeling hot hands at his hips, helping him push them down his thighs, he managed to croak, “Thank you.”
Stuart couldn’t stop a wolfish smile, this was one fantasy he knew very well, and had been dying as much to give Vince as he knew Vince had been waiting to have him do. He had lube and fingers inside of that fabulous tight arse quick enough to put a former shag king to shame, and a well-slicked and diamond-hard cock pushing at the puckered opening, nudging for permission. “Ready?” he growled.
“Guh!” Vince pushed his hips back, and spread his legs as far as the trousers crumpled at his knees would allow, hoping Stuart would understand he meant yes, yes, and please now yes.
The fuck was fast and rough… fantastic, without a doubt another one of many fantastic fucks for the memory books.
“Next one’s with the camera,” Stuart said, his lips curved in a well-satisfied, well-pleased-with-himself smirk, he’d finished cleaning them both up and reassembling their outfits.
Vince pulled him close and kissed him long and deep, tongues duelling in a familiar dance. Matching Stuart’s grin, he announced the title, “Filmed Live and In Colour, ‘Captain Jack Shags the Doctor’.”
***
They stood beside each other, fresh drinks in hand, after an unobtrusive and, they thought, unnoticed, return to the party.
“Going well then, is it lads?” Hazel joined them, trying to turn a knowing smile into a scowl. “Blimey, more’n six years, and you two still can’t keep your hands off each other.”
“And you, you nosy old woman,” Stuart gave her a wet smack of a kiss on her cheek, “love it.”
“Oi, careful who you’re calling old there, Stuart Jones. You’re fast catching up with me.”
Their attention was caught by the sight of Romey and Lisa walking toward them, their hips swaying and silver boots sparkling, catching the light with each step.
Stuart broke into laughter, his recognition instant, and he looked at Vince over Hazel’s head.
“Romanadvoratrelundar!” they both said at the same time, greeting the two women.
Hazel joined in their laughter; she also remembered their youthful test for sobriety. “I’ll go get us the next round then, lads, shall I? You’re obviously up for more,” she wandered off in the direction of the bar.
Before Stuart had a chance to have a go at Lisa for *trying* to carry off being a Time Lord, his attention was diverted by Vince’s “Oh my God!” and he looked to see what was cause for the outburst.
His mate was holding onto his shoulder, almost doubled over in laughter, and after several failed attempts at talking, finally managed to say, “Twelve o’clock! The Chicken has landed!”
Romey and Lisa turned to look, and all three joined Vince in his laughter, the sound carrying across the room to the object of their glee. Nathan looked up, and moved to join them. Between the wide smile that lit his face, and the old school uniform he wore, he looked exactly like the 15-year-old brat he’d been six years earlier.
“Well, well, look who’s here. Little boy Nathan.” Stuart grinned in greeting. Even after all these years, and Nathan long since safely relegated to being a friend, albeit a young one, he could never resist having a go.
“That’s Vislor Turlough to you, please and thank you.” Nathan nodded his hello, nonplussed – he’d been taught by the best. “Doctor, Cap’n Jack. Look at you, an old married couple.”
“Mmm, only we’re still shaggin’, so don’t be getting your hopes up any.”
“Stuart! Behave.” Vince managed to say, between hiccoughs.
“Why should I start now? Twat,” Stuart added; affection evident. “Serves you right for laughing.”
The five of them were having a loose group hug when Alex flurried into their midst, small arms and a long scarf wound around his neck. “Break it up, you lot. It’s time for -”
“Pressies!” Alfie piped up, clinging to Alex’s shoulders.
***
“One more,” Stuart drew an envelope out of his coat’s inside pocket, and handed it to Vince. The two of them were sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of a pile of gifts and torn wrapping paper, covered in clinging ribbons and bows.
Vince blushed, looking shy and adorable, “But I don’t have anything for you… I didn’t know -”
“Oh, I think you’ve got *some… thing* for me all right. *Later*.” Stuart waggled his eyebrows, everyone’s laughter deepening Vince’s blush. “Well? Go on then, open it.”
“Oh! Oh my God!” Vince broke into a huge grin looking at the cards he’d pulled out of the envelope, and threw his arms around Stuart. “This is *fantastic*! *You’re* fantastic.”
Stuart couldn’t help it; he looked as pleased as he felt. “So, you like it then?”
“Like it? I *love* it!” Vince ducked his head, still blushing furiously. “God, I’m *so* sad.”
The two of them were jarred out of their little world by a chorus of “What is it?” shouted by their friends.
“Reservations for a week at the SACO in Cardiff, and a stage pass for the set of Dr. Who.” Vince couldn’t stop smiling.
***
“Bye! Fuck,” Stuart said, closing the door after their last guest, “I thought they’d never leave.” he turned and pulled Vince close, hands warm and firm on leather-clad hips.
Vince cocked his head slightly to the side, a familiar small smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “So, what now, Doctor?”
Stuart returned the smile, and murmured, his lips brushing Vince’s, “Press the button, dematerialise, step out, new planet.”
end
ETA: This story has since been betaed, and reworked by Margo - so have fun reading it again!!!
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From:
no subject
I've been able to find very little fic out there for the original QAF, which is quite sad. Wrote one myself once (coincidentally enough, it ALSO featured Stuart and Vince discussing Doctor Who) but it doesn't even come CLOSE to this. Thanks very much for writing and sharing. :)
From:
What??? lol...
Darlin, let me lead that way!!!
"Very little fic" for the original QAF. There are hundreds!
One - there's a very active and hugely welcoming yahoo list devoted to Stuart/Vince, and really all QAF UK fic found here:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/stuartandvince/
And then there's the QAF Fic Archive -
www.qaf-fic.com/atp
I've got fic on both...lol. And we'd love to read anything you might like to share with us. I hope you come and play.
hugs
xof
From:
no subject
Sadly, I've never been able to get any of my friends really into QAF with me. And then most of the people I know online are just into QAF US. Bahhhhh.
I have written one tiny QAF drabble (here (http://bitter-crimson.livejournal.com/380978.html)), but that's it. I'm more of a reader than a writer, though I'm trying to work on that lately. *^^*
From:
no subject
Ohhh, that was fun, and hot!! Thanks for sharing it!
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
Margo wanted me to pass along this site:
http://www.gay.tv/ita/magazine/boy_girl/dettaglio_boy.asp?i=45
It's got some great Charlie Hunnam photos.
hugs
x
From: (Anonymous)
Surprise!
From:
no subject
From: (Anonymous)
Brit for beta
From:
Re: Brit for beta
*g* I don't read headers. Too many authors fill them with all the details of the plot disguised as 'warnings'. If someone's going to get raped or die or quack like a duck for comic effect, I don't want to know!
From: (Anonymous)
Re: Brit for beta
From:
no subject
Man, why don't I live in the UK? :(
From:
no subject
This was my favorite non-Stuart/Vince bit: the little boy stumbled on the ends of the long scarf wound ‘round him, making him look more like a crayon-crazed mummy than Doctor Number Four, and caught himself from falling at the last minute by throwing his arms around and holding tight to Vince’s knees until he was picked up and held safe in his Da Number Two’s arms.
second favorite: Nathan dressed up as Turlough! LOL
Wish we could see Stuart and Vince dressed up as in this fic. Yummy!