Of Recognition and Attraction

Summary: A little something wrote for the Fright Night Kink Meme, prompt: "Peter meets a man who keeps giving him a once-over, and completely misinterprets why. The Doctor meets a man who looks like his former self, except apparently ten times as horny. And also with vampires."

Pairing: Peter/Doctor (eleven)

A/N: This is from Peter's POV, but I may do one from the Doctor's next.

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London, with its omnipresent shade of gloom threatening rain and fog, was still one of Peter's favourite places. He'd moved there to his uncle's after the tragedy in his home in Guildford. Munching on some chips, he wandered down town, looking at how some things had and hadn't changed since the last time he'd wandered the streets. He noticed his usual haunts were a little more cleaned up, but his favourite pub had closed and had been replaced with a shitty looking night club and that rather annoyed him.

Somewhere along the line night had fallen, but Peter didn't feel so left out in the open here. In Las Vegas he was always wondering if someone new was going to come and try to kill him. He and Charley tried to keep up on things, but the wide expanse of dark sky still made him worry.

Underneath the lights Peter watched the well-dressed people mingle and walk, clubbing, dining on the high priced food on the posh street he was on. Peter left it in favour of more quiet, and wondered if it was time to be going back to his hotel.

As he was thinking about hailing a cab there was a ruckus in one of the pubs. A hefty bouncer that Peter recognized - having been on the receiving end of the enormous man's ire a few times - tossed a very odd bloke onto the sidewalk.

"Really, I'm telling you, if your infestation gets worse things could get very ugly indeed!" the man cried, turning.

Peter blinked. If the man hadn't looked scarcely older than Charley, he'd guess that, by his outfit, he was some sort of eccentric college professor. As it was he was dressed in patched tweed, a lurid pink printed shirt, and a fucking bow tie. Who wears a damn bow tie anymore? Peter thought, eying him. Not a bad looking bloke, all in all, but horrible fashion sense.

Another bouncer, and this one Peter didn't know, threw something that looked like a small green torch at him. "And here's your gay little toy!"

"Now really, I insist you let me back in!" sputtered the man, scrambling on the dirty sidewalk for the torch, which had rolled away.

"Keep it to yourself, you drunk!" The door slammed.

"But I only had one bloody banana daiquiri!" he protested, still sitting on the sidewalk, his hair tossed, staring at the door like a petulant child. Peter decided he liked the hair.

By now Peter wasn't too far away from him. "Infestation of what, mate?"

"Oh, you wouldn't really understand," he said, fiddling with the very strange metal torch and not looking at him. "Or maybe you would, I'm told I doubt people too much. Just some basic ethanol eating parasites that do really nasty things to anyone who ingests them."

"Get's them more drunk, or what?"

"Yes, if their levels are low enough. Or if they're too high, they may cause the person who just ingested them some severe internal bleeding."

"So avoid that pub then," said Peter, still staring at him. "Here," he held out his hand.

The man absently raised his hand, still staring at the torch, and let himself be hauled up. He brushed off his pants - and those were just as bad as his ugly shirt - and looked up. Peter was pleased to note the man did a double take, and looked him up and down. First his green eyes darted from his boots to his hairline very fast, then again, very slowly and a little lingering.

"Well, that's interesting," he murmured. He stepped up on his tip-toes to peer into Peter's eyes.

"What is?" Peter asked, liking where these slow looks might be headed. Up close, the odd man was sort of hot. High cheek bones, lovely mouth.

"Well, let's just say you look exactly like, a, um, friend of mine," he said, then grinned.

"What kind of friend?" Peter shifted slightly, angling so that the man was between him and an alleyway. The strange man didn't even seem to notice.

"Well, see, two friends really. Sort of twins, but not. And sort of me, but not. But it's impossible for you to be either of them, so this is really bizarre. Well, unless there's been another rupture in space and time and one of them slipped into this era, but I highly doubt it as he would have caught on by now. But I suppose you could say we were quite close."

Then the man licked his lips and, looking like he was curious about something, leaned in and kissed him. His lips were a bit cool, probably because of the weather. It was very brief, but Peter felt the man's tongue taste his lip before he rolled back on his heels.

"Salt, vinegar, and, mm, yep, plain old human," he said, licking his lips, looking like he was analyzing the flavour.

Peter grabbed him and pulled him close. The man's arms flailed a moment as they disappeared into the alley. Peter crushed his lips against his and the smaller man's back hit the wall. He twisted away for a moment, gasping.

"What are you doing?"

"What's it look like?" asked Peter, tilting his head and kissing him again, this time met with slightly less resistance. He edged his knee between the man's legs, and realized he didn't know his name yet. He decided it didn't matter.

"I, um, ah, buh," he pulled away again, flailing a bit. "You aren't by any chance in any way related to Donna Noble, are you?"

"Nope. Never heard of her." The man's arms were still flailing, so Peter grabbed him by the wrists and pressed them against the wall.

"So why are you attempting oral contact?"

"You kissed me first," said Peter, nuzzling underneath his jaw line. He ignored the man when he said something mumbled about 'data transference,' and 'it meant nothing.' Peter leisurely ran his tongue up to the man's ear, noticing that despite the healthy pink glow of his skin he was quite cool. His skin tasted strange, but also sweet. "Also, you're a good looking bloke if a bit weird, and because I can."

"I will never figure out how the old me got away with licking and kissing every bloody thing he saw," he muttered. They were still pressed up against the wall, and Peter could feel that he was getting into it, judging by the man's hardness on his leg. He bit down, tasting the strange sweet skin on his tongue, and ground against him. Peter was pleased to note him gasp, feel his young sexy body writhe against his a moment.

"Oh, to hell with it," said the man, and with a surprising amount of strength, broke Peter's grip and, grasping his jaw, pulled him up where he could kiss him again, this time hard and burning.

There we go, thought Peter as the two of them twisted together. The embrace felt more erotic than any he'd had in a long while, despite all the clothes in the way.

"My hotel is a quick cab ride away. Interested?" Peter asked. He nipped his lower lip, testing it between his teeth. The man's skin was warming up, he noticed.

"Mm," was all the man said, his cool mouth tasting Peter's jaw now.

"What's your name, anyway?" asked Peter, pulling him towards the alley mouth now, hoping that it wouldn't be impossible to hail a cab and keep kissing his stranger.

"The Doctor," he said between kisses.

Peter grinned. "Alright then. I've slept with weirder." They were on the sidewalk now. He waved his free arm, the other still curled around the Doctor's shoulders. "TAXI!"