Title: The Lair
Author: Van Donovan
Characters: Frazer Hines, Patrick Troughton, Shelagh Troughton, Susan George.
Pairing(s): Patrick/Frazer.
Rating: NC-17.
Word Count: 3,403.
Warnings: Real person slash.
Summary: Patrick puts the moves on an unsuspecting Frazer.
Disclaimer: This did not happen. I am intending no libel or slander with this story. Names and some facts are based on real accounts, but all events in this story are fictionalized. Please do not sue me. I claim no ownership to these people/characters, nor to Doctor Who or anything related.
Notes: Betaing provided by Irreparable. Thanks to Randominity for help with the plot idea.

This story has a sequel. ------

“I don’t know how you manage out in that cold without freezing to death.” Patrick’s wife was smiling as she talked, clearing the last of Frazer’s dinner plates from the table. “Especially in that kilt of yours. It must be freezing!”

“Oh, it’s not so bad. All that running around keeps me warm. I manage pretty well,” he replied, smiling. “‘No pain, no gain,’ as they say.”

“I make sure he stays warm,” Susan said, from where she sat across from him. “Don’t I, Fraz?” She turned her adorable little grin to him.

“Of course you do,” Frazer replied, smiling at her in turn.

“Would you like me to help you with those, dear?” Patrick asked, handing his plate up to his wife.

“No, no, don’t be silly. We’ve still got dessert coming. I’ll just put these in the sink and nip right back out.” She slipped away immediately. From the parlor, the sounds of a children’s evening television program drifted into the dining room.

“You’ve got a marvelous home, Mr. Troughton,” Susan said, brightly.

“Just Pat is fine, please,” he said, all charm. “And thank you.”

“You should see the backyard,” Frazer chimed in. “It’s magnificent.”

“I do like to garden, on occasion,” Patrick demurely added.

“Now that’s an understatement,” Frazer teased. “So, what’s for dessert? Do you know?”

“Oh, some sort of cake, I should expect,” Patrick answered. He pushed himself to his feet. “A refill on your wine, Frazer?” he asked. Before Frazer could answer, Patrick was pouring liquid into his glass. “Susan?”

“Yes, please.”

Patrick refilled hers as well before topping off his own. He sat back down beside Frazer just as his wife reappeared, carrying a beautiful silver tray laden with tiny little cakes.

“Oh, they look delightful!” Susan exclaimed, grinning broadly.

Frazer watched the relish in his girlfriend’s face for several seconds before turning his attention to the cakes. “They do look wonderful,” he agreed. “You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble for just us.”

“Nonsense,” she said, setting a cake before Patrick, and then one before him. “It’s rare Patrick invites his coworkers home for dinner. I know how busy your weekdays are. This is the least I could do, since you’re sharing your precious time with us. You see Patrick all week, so I’m sure it’s nice to get a break from him sometimes.”

Frazer laughed heartily and was in the process of picking up his fork when Patrick reached under the table and gave his thigh an overly friendly pat.

“Frazer is a gentleman, dear,” Patrick said, all sincerity and smiles. “Since you invited him, he’d come even if he didn’t want to.”

The hand remained on his leg, burning hot against Frazer’s thigh, as if there wasn’t a layer of trousers between Patrick’s palm and his skin. Susan was laughing, accepting her own cake as someone said something else, but Frazer’s world had suddenly contracted into a single throbbing pulse in his thigh. Patrick obviously didn’t realize just where he’d put his hand.

A little too loudly, Frazer cleared his throat and shoveled some cake into his mouth. He immediately proceeded to choke on it.

“Frazer?” Susan asked, in alarm.

Patrick’s hand slipped away and the man gave him a hearty thump on the back. Frazer swallowed the food, grabbed his wine and gulped it. “I’m okay,” he quickly reassured them. He choked a bit again, but smiled through it. “Sorry. Really, this is delicious. Don’t mind me.”

“Thank you,” Shelagh said, concern etched on her face. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine, really.” Frazer quickly wiped at his mouth with his napkin. “Just got a bit overeager there, for a second.”

“He does that from time to time,” Susan said with a smile, relaxing again. “He doesn’t like a lot of sweets, but the ones he does like, he really enjoys.”

“Oh?” Patrick mused. “He seems quite fond of the ones in the cafeteria.” He looked at Frazer, his face still cheerful and bright, obviously unaware of where he’d accidentally put his hand. “I didn’t know you didn't like sweets, Frazer.”

It was awkward to look at the man after the way he’d reacted to his touch, but in that second Frazer convinced himself he was overreacting. Patrick had just given him a friendly pat; he was being ridiculous. So he fixed a grin on his face and looked at him. “Well, they just happen to have what I like there.”

The smile Patrick gave him in return sent a sudden, hot, aching surge through his body. “I’ll bet they do.”

“So, what story are you two working on now?” Shelagh asked, eyes twinkling.

Frazer turned away from Patrick immediately, opening his mouth to answer, but there was that damnable hand again, back on his thigh. Patrick had to know that was too close; too much. It was inappropriate!

“They’re calling it ‘The Colony of Devils,’” Patrick calmly said. His fingers had begun to move, massaging Frazer’s thigh just gently enough to be stimulating, intentional.

“Well, that doesn’t sound very friendly,” she replied, her tone wary. “‘Devils’? Really? In a children’s program?”

“Oh, they’re not really devils,” Susan cheerfully piped up. “I was on set with them this week, you know. Frazer’s been trying to get me to audition for new assistant, as the Victorian girl leaves in this one.” She laughed and spared a glance at him, but if she noticed the stricken expression on his face, she didn’t say anything. “Anyway, it’s this wretched seaweed that’s actually the problem,” she explained, elaborating on the story.

Patrick leaned forward on the pretense of listening to her tale, his face beaming, his eyes rapt with interest. And all the while his hand was smoothing over Frazer’s trousers, fingers inching ever nearer Frazer’s center. There was no mistake that the man knew what he was doing, knew what effect it was having on Frazer.

And there was no mistake Frazer’s body knew what it was doing in response. Against all logic and reason, he was reacting. He could feel his cheeks burning, felt his breath tightening his throat, felt his blood pooling, his body hardening. It felt like betrayal. Shelagh and Susan were laughing now, both right there, and Patrick was laughing too, and all Frazer could think was, Oh God, please touch me already!

“Oh dear,” Shelagh said, still laughing lightly. “I think poor Frazer’s had a bit too much wine. Look at his cheeks.”

Susan giggled delightedly. “He’s like a little school boy when his cheeks get like that, isn’t he?”

“Quite fetching,” Patrick agreed, fixing Frazer with a most impish smile, his hand still firm on his thigh. “I sometimes forget how very young you are.”

Frazer opened his mouth, trying to form a retort, but as soon as he did Patrick’s hand slid all the way up his thigh, cupping the hardening length of flesh there that was neatly dressed to one side. “Patrick!” was all he managed to yelp. The man got one hot, glorious squeeze in before Frazer bolted to his feet, his chair scrapping loudly on the wooden floors.

He felt as though his blazing erection was plain for everyone to see, felt like all the eyes on the room were on him, accusing him, as if it were his fault Patrick was affecting him this way. “I’m not feeling well,” he blurted and immediately turned, heading for the bathroom in the hall. He nearly tripped over his feet and had to walk rather bowlegged the rest of the way.

Frazer pressed the bathroom door closed behind him and leaned heavily against it, listening to the pounding of his heart in his ears. This was utterly wrong, and he knew it. He could hear the television in the other room, for Christ’s sake! Some of Patrick’s children were in there, watching telly! He let out a low groan, unable to help himself, and then began hurriedly, clumsily undoing his belt.

It was like cursing in church, like bold-facedly lying to his parents. He pushed the lid of the toilet seat up with one hand, already working his cock harder with the other. He tried not to think, tried not to remember where he was, or how the hell he had ended up this way after just two touches and a single smile. Patrick was just having him on, a fucking lark, and Frazer was going to be sick.

He ran a hand up his stomach, pawing himself out of a need to just touch, but that wasn’t enough. “Fuck,” he whimpered, jerking harder. He was going to explode; he could feel it building. Something hard and fast, the likes of which hadn’t happened since he’d been an inexperienced teen. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned. His free hand gripped the back of the toilet for support; his legs were starting to fail him. How could he be doing this? How could he be doing this, thinking about Patrick’s hand squeezing him through his trousers? How could he do this and think about that and wish that Patrick were here touching him instead?

He heard the soft click of the door closing before he realized what it was. There was too much driving need in him right now to focus on anything other than his raging, desperate need to come and come now. All else, all rational thought could come later. And then he spoke.

“Oh, Frazer.”

The young man choked in surprise, strangling a cry in his throat before it could escape. There was Patrick, leaning against the closed bathroom door, watching him with eyes that said everything. His hand stilled on his cock, but instead of going flaccid from embarrassment, he just felt everything tense in a delightful, anticipatory way. “Pat,” he managed to whisper, hardly daring to believe this was real, that it could possibly be happening.

“If I’d known it’d have this effect, I would have done that a lot sooner,” the man coolly said. He pushed off the door, taking a few steps closer.

Frazer didn’t think. He didn’t question his morals or logic. He just saw the hunger in Patrick’s eyes and let his body do the rest. The bathroom was small. It took just two steps to reach the man, and just one to shove him up against the bathroom wall in the roughest, fiercest kiss he’d ever experienced.

Patrick’s hands on him were like hot coals, burning even through his clothing. The man kissed Frazer back desperately, expertly. It was more than Frazer could take in at once. His hard cock rubbed between them, stimulated against Patrick’s rough trousers and Frazer’s own flat stomach. Hands worked his hips, pushing him closer and there was so much to taste, to feel. He had Patrick against the wall, but it was the older man who was in control, who was the driving force behind this. It was Patrick who somehow effortlessly walked him backward and pushed him onto the sink counter.

Frazer found himself panting desperately, gasping for air like a drowning man and didn’t even know how he’d gotten there. He was sitting on the countertop, trousers around his ankles, and there was Patrick, kneeling between his legs, on the floor. One of the man’s little hands was on his sack, fingers rolling in an extraordinary, gentle way. The other was sliding Frazer’s foreskin back and forth, letting it lap each drop of precum, sliding it down the whole length. Frazer gripped the counter edge and honestly thought he was going to die. “Pat,” he whimpered.

Patrick looked up with eyes blazing, a gaze so intense that Frazer’s hips thrusts involuntarily. He was like an animal, utterly trapped in Patrick’s mating dance. Inside his shoes, his toes struggled for purchase against the slick counter, but it was futile. Everything but the feel of Patrick’s hands on his cock was futile. He gripped his thigh hard with one hand while the other desperately wanted to tangle through Patrick’s shaggy black hair, to direct that face closer, to shove the man’s hot little mouth onto his aching flesh.

And then Patrick did it for him.

“Oh, God.” Frazer had received many blowjobs in his life. From beautiful young models and actresses, to older women high up in the business. He’d even let a boy suck him once, when he’d mistaken the lad for a girl and hadn’t cared enough to rectify the situation when the truth presented itself. But there had never been anything like looking down and seeing Patrick Troughton with a mouth full of his cock, sucking on the flesh with the same mixture of utter seriousness and delightful abandon he took out of acting. There was nothing so scorching; nothing so erotic; nothing so impossibly arousing.

He gripped a fistful of that shiny black hair and jerked the man’s head, pulling him down harder. Patrick braced himself with one of his hands, but instead of getting angry at Frazer’s roughness, just smiled around the hardness in his mouth and let out a low, humming chuckle.

Frazer’s toes curled. He arched his back, held his breath and came like it was his first time and he didn’t know what to expect. It was so fierce it hurt and when it was over he nearly slipped right off the counter. The only reason he didn’t end up on the floor was Patrick catching him, holding him up with one sinewy arm.

“My,” Patrick said, his voice not even winded, “that was fast.”

Frazer gripped at the lapel of Patrick’s dinner coat desperately. He didn’t understand what had just happened; or perhaps he understood it too well. He’d used similar techniques of his own, seducing any pretty girl that struck his fancy. But he’d never had an encounter like this, never been the one being seduced. He’d never been pressed against the body of the man who’d just sucked him dry in forty seconds flat and felt that man’s erection pressing into his thigh. He’d never known a simple blowjob could be so good.

“Pat,” he managed, the word said in disbelief. “Jesus Christ, Pat.”

“I’d thank you not to take the Lord’s name in vain in my home, Frazer,” Patrick smoothly said. He straightened the young man out, propping him up against the counter. “You’re a mess,” he chided softly.

Pat,” Frazer repeated, more insistently. He tried to slap Patrick’s hand away from doing up his trousers, but they were shaking and he realized if Patrick moved away, he’d likely just topple over.

“Yes?” he finally answered, his tone completely mild.

With eyes on him, Frazer realized he couldn’t talk. He still couldn’t think, because if he did he’d have to process this. He’d have to catalog how shoving Patrick up against a wall while they kissed compared to every other kiss he’d had before. He’d have to figure out what it meant to come so hard in the mouth of a forty-eight year old man that he couldn’t even stand after. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted.

“I think you’ll figure it out,” Patrick said. He finished buttoning Frazer’s trousers and started on his belt. “I’d better go or the girls will wonder where I am.” He cinched Frazer’s belt and then caught his eye.

“This is insane,” Frazer whispered.

“Love often is.” Patrick kissed him again. Not hot, not scorching, just tender and warm and loving. Patrick tasted like Frazer now, and he couldn’t decide how he felt about that; whether it was disgusting or perhaps the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced. It didn’t matter; he kissed Patrick back and the man pulled away, leaving Frazer wanting for more.

Patrick stepped back to smooth his ruffled hair in the mirror hanging over the sink. He combed his fingers through once and then put on his simple, happy smile. The man hadn’t come, but the fierce hunger in his eyes had faded. He looked utterly unperturbed. “Don’t be too long, my dear boy,” he cheerfully said.

And then he was gone, slipped right out the door in the same manner he’d come, leaving Frazer alone and satisfied, but full of so many more questions.

There was some truth in what Patrick had said: the longer he was gone, the more the women would question where he was. Staying in the bathroom wasn’t an answer, but neither was staying in this house. Not with Patrick so close, acting like nothing had just happened. Not with Shelagh smiling at him, offering him more wine. Not with his own girlfriend worrying lovingly at his pallor!

Frazer threw open the bathroom door and stalked out. The table had been cleared and everyone had moved to the parlor. He stood in the archway that led there, hardly able to support himself, feeling like his sin was painted all over his body, and unable to look at anyone but Susan.

“Ah, Frazer!” Patrick said, his voice overly loud in the quiet room. “You’re just in time.”

On the television monitor, the BBC announcer informed them that ‘Doctor Who’ was about to start. Then the room filled with the first strains of the opening song. “Susan,” Frazer said, his tone tense, forced into emotionlessness, “we’re leaving.”

“Frazer?” she asked. Her eyes were large, confused.

“I’m not feeling well,” he announced in clipped tones. “Susan and I are going home. Thank you for the wonderful dinner.” He did not take his eyes off the girl.

“But Frazer,” she said, getting to her feet uncertainly.

“Should you really be driving so soon?” Patrick asked, concerned. “You did have quite a bit of wine.”

Frazer shifted his eyes to Patrick, fixing the man with what he hoped was a withering glare. It wasn’t that he hadn’t enjoyed what had just happened, but the man had had no right to make him feel that way, not when his wife was right there. Not when Frazer and his girlfriend were guests in their house. Not when it made him question his own morals so badly. “We’re leaving,” he said, firmly.

Frazer could see exactly the moment that Patrick got it and backed down. There was no outward change in his face, but it was as though his bravado had suddenly deflated all around him. He dropped his eyes to the floor and Frazer’s stomach tightened when he did, as though he’d just lost something precious. He’d crushed something in Patrick and every part of him was screaming to take it back, to stay. “Do drive safe,” Patrick said to the floor, his tone soft.

“Goodbye,” Frazer managed. He swept his eyes over Shelagh and the assembled children, all of who were engrossed with watching their father bound around on the television, running from monsters.

With a sharp tug on her arm, Frazer pulled Susan out of the house. He began fishing his car keys out of his pocket. He felt her eyes on him as he drove, but he couldn’t look at her or explain himself. His mind was far too clouded with thoughts of Patrick. How had that happened? How had he let the older man affect him so badly? How had he possibly enjoyed it so much? The memory of it alone was making his body yearn for more.

It wasn’t until a car behind him honked that he realized he’d stopped at a red light and been so engrossed in the memory of Patrick’s mouth and hands on him that he hadn’t noticed it’d changed colors. By the time he came to his senses, the light had already turned red again.

“Frazer?” Susan asked, her voice hesitant, worried. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he lied through his teeth. “I’m fine.” He couldn’t say anything else; couldn’t think properly. He’d just get her back to his place, and perhaps in an hour or two he’d fuck her as long and as hard as he possibly could. That would help, that would reassure him that what had happened with Patrick was a fluke, meaningless.

Susan was beyond gorgeous: a famous model and actress in her own right. There was no way he could find better satisfaction from anyone else. Especially not from a married, little old man! Resolved, he calmed himself down and when the light changed, he took a deep, centering breath and cruised on, far more carefree.

He’d deal with Patrick on Monday, when it came.

... continued...

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