Teaching an Old Fangirl New Tricks

thoughts born of sleep deprivation

Sat, 01 Mar 2008 23:34:47 GMT

*I am not necessarily proud of my baby's pooping, just relieved when it happens and she goes back to sleep

*Glad as I am to have BBC America I would like a 24 hour Torchwood channel

*A Cesarian section means never having to say "Yeah, I can lift that".

*I swear I am buying a baby sling so that I have my hands free to do laundry, not finish several in-progress slash fics before I have to go back to work.

*I am not resentful of my husband's focus on clearing the ice from our driveway because he would do a crappy job of mopping the kitchen anyway.

*On a related note - steam floor cleaners, of the type for which I have seen several infomercials, seem like a really good idea.

What I learned on my summer vacation

Wed, 03 Oct 2007 23:29:27 GMT

. I've beein saying "conch" exactly like it's spelled my whole life, but apparently it's pronounced konk. However you say it, it's delicious - especially conch fritters which are basically fishy little hushpuppies.

2. If I survived riding in a car with the steering wheel on the right side (with husband driving) for a week while we drove on the left hand side of the road through roundabouts and down streets without clear markings I can do anything.

3. Husband survived kayaking with me through a mangrove swamp in a downpour - proving that he is the bestest sweetie ever.

4. If you eat calamari for breakfast your pee will smell like the rankest fish all day long.

5. Watching your husband trip over an iguana in a parking lot will make you giggle for days.

6. Rum punch without the rum just isn't the same, even if they put little umbrellas in the glass.

7. The TSA's restricition on 3 oz. of liquid per container blows! We had to check a carry-on because I bought a 5 oz. bottle of hot sauce in the airport and forgot to put it in our checked baggage.

8. For some reason Delta Airlines managed to get three out of four pieces of luggage to CR last night, but my purple duffle took a private ride to Dayton, OH. It should be here this afternoon, and our rum sampler had better be in tact. Oh yes, the 3 oz. restriction means all your fine liquor must be checked. Because if I spend $$$ in a foreign country on rum I'm gonna waste it chucking a Molotov cocktail at the flight attendant.

9. Caymanian money is brightly colored, but all have the same picture of Queen Elizabeth II. I think they should mix it up a bit and have her wearing a funny hat on the $5.

10. Did I mention conch was yummy? Seriously, Long John Silver's needs to serve this stuff up. Speaking of which, I feel a craving for fried things coming on that I can do next to nothing about. Damn you gestational diabetes!

11. Stingrays do not have teeth, but if they suck your finger in between their grinding plates it'll smart for awhile. On a related note, being head-butted by a creature with no bones is a surreal experience.

12. The pregnant woman's uterus acts as a sort of swim bladder, making any sort of life vest unnecessary. On the other hand, my back and thighs burn more easily because they are well above water whilst I am snorkeling.

Would anyone like a kitten?

Wed, 15 Aug 2007 22:25:29 GMT

Seriously - I have five in the basement. Not chained up or anything cuz where would I get shackles that small? Over the past month my house has become the freakin' wild kingdom. It's bad when you come home and go "hey the house smells like wet beagle and that's a step up from cat piss"

Needless to say these are not my pets. I have a boarder. That sounds weird. Like I let a room to him and he has kitchen privileges but I'm planning to murder him for his social security check. That's silly. He's only 30. He's a good friend. I love him to death, and really he can stay as long as he needs to...but his pets must go.

Note to self: when you're changing diapers in 10 months, remember how much more enjoyable the smell of poop mixed with baby powder is compared to the reek of a cat with boundary issues.

Pregnancy fun fact: I declare today the last day I wear an underwire for the duration of the pregnancy. Cripes! I'm barely 3 months along and if this keeps up I'm gonna look like Pamela Anderson...without the pretty face...or the fame...or the hepatitis. Hey- there is a bright side

Curse you, woman!

Mon, 13 Aug 2007 21:46:33 GMT

Son of a beaver! I love my mother to pieces, but she has really done it this time. She signs me up for offers on Baby-to-be dot com and uses my personal e-mail account - the one I only use to e-mail friends and family...okay and get LJ stuff, but still. The next thing I know I have 107 messages in my Inbox and it's all SPAM! And I can get the online server to filter it, but if i download to my computer using Outlook Express it'll still be there. Dang dang, double dang, triple dang, shoot.

I'm sending goons over to break her forwarding finger.

Note to self: If I'm now signed up for Baby-to-be, I can probably cancel that mycycle.com thingy.

So I had the day off and spent the majority of it reading and writing fanfic instead of writing in my pregnancy diary. I'm telling myself I need to get the multi-chapter Turlough slave-fic done before the tadpole arrives.
Who am I kidding? Motherhood will no more banish my perverted tendencies than marriage did. Mommy's going to hide a flash drive full of smut away with her Preacher comics when the kids start to learn to read.

New Flavors

Thu, 01 Mar 2007 20:10:27 GMT

Sunkist makes Cherry Limeade!
Everyone buy a bottle of sugary goodness now so it stays around for the one time a month when I really really want one.

So I'm supposed to go to a concert tonight - weather permitting. Which really should be our new state motto.
Welcome to Iowa - Weather permitting.

Will there be school today?
weather permitting
Will I have power today?
weather permitting
Will my husband make it home tonight now that they've closed the interstate?
weather permitting
Will a tree fall on my house
That's what you get for moving into a development that used to be a tree nursery.

Hey, usually the voices in my head don't talk back. I may be hitting the Cherry Limeade a little hard.

So anyway I get to stand in the semi-freezing rain with an eclectic bunch for the Nickelback concert tonight. I say eclectic because there will be kids, parents of said kids, stoners, rockers, and then there's just me. I could actually care less about Nickelback. I'm probably not even spelling the name of the band right and I'm too lazy to go look on my husband's CDs to confirm that. However, 3 Days Grace and Breaking Benjamin are opening and I would like to see them.
We went to see Disturbed before Xmas- which was AWESOME.

How does that phrase go - if it's too loud, you're too old. It isn't too loud (because I wear earplugs), but it's really smoky and goes kinda late. Oh look, I found a gray hair.

You're a girl right?

Mon, 26 Feb 2007 04:49:05 GMT

Someone actually asked me that once. It was a boy I really really liked, and he wanted me to proofread his love letter to a cheerleader.
He's probably a successful independent filmmaker just about to make it big now. I want to write him and say- but I thought you were funny when you had dandruff in your eyebrows. My husband may not approve.

I don't have a problem being one of the guys so to speak. Strictly defined gender roles have never been an issue for me.
And yet, from time to time more than one of my male friends has 'forgotten' that I do in fact like the same sci-fi/thriller/horror flicks they do. Typically this happens when they find themselves a mate who does not always (or in some cases never) enjoy that genre of film.
So I get stuck repeating my near fanatical avoidance of romantic comedies.
Trips to the video place for movies rented for two or more couples inevitably lead to disappointment on my part. I cannot describe in mere words how much I never want to see 'How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days' or 'Failure to Launch'. Couldn't we watch something about a serial killer instead. It would literally be less painful for me.
I'm happy for my guy friends - and I have become very good friends with their wives/girlfriends, but I will not necessarily ever be able to go to the movies with them.
I'm so grateful for my geek female friends. You know who you are, ladies. Thanks.

The joy of posting my random thoughts

Fri, 23 Feb 2007 18:55:34 GMT

I have started upwards of 10 journals/diaries in my life. Each time I swear I'll keep up with it, not necessarily as an exact chronicle of the events of my life, but as a place to keep my thoughts and feelings.
I have plenty of thoughts and feelings - some I don't even mind sharing - but the thing is...I'm kinda lazy.
And beyond that I start to think about - what if my descendents find this after I'm dead and are like 'great grandma was a fruitbat who thought about sex way too much'

Of course, I'll be dead so I won't care. So of I'm going to leave something for posterity, it won't be a journal full of my witty observations. At best people will find half filled notebooks full of Who porn interdispersed with proclamataions such as:

Welsh Corgis are the cutest dogs in creation. I would have a herd of them if I could.

Why am I that 0.1% of the population who will suffer constipation as a side effect of a nasal spray?

I am 33 years old and I cannot walk up the basement stairs without glancing behind me at least once to make sure I'm not being stalked by the morlocks the surely live in the corner by the sump pump.

I miss the Mr. Bulky candy store because it was the one place I could reliably find gummy grapefruit slices.

See- not exactly Anais Nin, is it?

Shaken Muse Syndrome

Fri, 23 Feb 2007 03:55:55 GMT

If I had a muse I'd shake her like a bitch. Okay, it's not entirely her fault. I was so excited for dw_slash's FUF and I had three reasonably decent fic ideas to pursue. Only one has borne fruit that, in my opinion, isn't fit to lay rotting at the bottom of my refrigerator. You know - is that a pear or an ancient mango?
When the theme for FUF07 was proposed (doubles, dopplegangers, alternate universe duplicates, etc.) I was excited for the challenge.
Sadly I was unaware at the time that my own February was about to be royally F'd up. I'll spare anyone taking the time to read this the gory details, save that I am composing a theme song for my new pill regimen that I call 'Circus of Medication'.

So, seeing as how I am trapped in a tornado of angst it stands to reason that my attempts at creative writing will be in a similar vein.
But I don't want them to be! I wanted fun - Porny fun!
What I have is either Porn, which doesn't do any of the characters justice, but does allow me to imagine them naked. Or angst, in which some of the characters may or may not be naked, but they are in emotional turmoil...and kind of out of character.

I don't know if I should try to salvage one or more of the fics or scrap all three and just write the crackfic I had in mind in the first place - cuz after all, I am frackin' crazy. Not shave my own head and get a tattoo crazy, mind you. That's just nuts.

Fic - Unbound - Epilogue

Sun, 21 Jan 2007 03:50:36 GMT

Title:Unbound
Categories(?):Smutty goodness, a touch of romance, humor, angst, BDSM
Rating: This little bit is PG-13 at best.
Author's Note: A completely un beta-d bit of fluff set after the Big Finish Audio adventureLoups-Garoux

Unbound - Epilogue

As the TARDIS closed behind him, the Doctor considered several possible destinations. Could do with another visit to the Eye of Orion. Earth is becoming increasingly stressful. He tapped out some coordinates, erased them, and input others. Contemplating the merits of a bath versus a sandwich, he began to feel he was being watched. Glancing up, he saw that his instincts were correct. Glared at, actually.

“Something bothering you, Turlough?” His companion’s eyes narrowed and the younger man’s jaw dropped. The Doctor waited patiently for the litany of complaints to begin, but, to his surprise, Turlough smiled. Normally that would make him happy, but the sight of gleaming white teeth, clenched together and framed by tightly drawn lips was unsettling. “Turlough?”

“Take your clothes off.” The tone was harsh, but the smile remained.

The Gallifreyan cocked his head, pretending he hadn’t heard correctly. “Pardon?”

“Take-your-clothes-off-now.”

“Isn’t tomorrow laundry day?” the Doctor wondered aloud. “I’m glad you want to finish up your chores early, but if I give you my clothes right now I might catch cold.” Aware that while he prattled, his companion’s smile was quickly fading, the Doctor tensed, ready for movement. “Perhaps you should just do your things. I think your sheets are probably filthy.” Turlough moved swiftly to the other side of the console, but the Doctor stayed out of his reach. “Why the sudden urgency to disrobe me?”

Turlough snarled. “You smell like her.”

“Who – Ileana?”

Nostrils flared. “Yes! She was rubbing herself all over you. It was disgusting, and I couldn’t say anything about it until now.”

Goodness, he’s upset. “Turlough, relax. I’ll admit that I found Senora Douglas fascinating. She’s a remarkable woman, and though I would have liked to get to know her, to understand her, better, your jealousy is unfounded. I felt no affection for her. She made some rather large assumptions regarding the nature of my interest.”

Though visibly relieved, Turlough’s brow remained knit. “Oh, she assumed all right. The last forty-eight hours have been less than comfortable for me, and I would like to show you a little affection, but you smell of her. It bothers me.”

Calmly, the Doctor removed his jacket, but before he could fold it over his arm, he was tackled. “No fair!” he cried as his shoes were removed without being unlaced. “You know, I was much less concerned about you spending the night with the Jaguar Maiden.”

Turlough snorted as he tugged striped trousers down and off. “Ha! You had every right to be ‘concerned’. I spent hours defending my honor. She didn’t even believe me when I said my religion forbade sex before marriage. Finally, just so I could get some sleep without being molested, I told her I’d been injured in a hover car accident.”

The Doctor snickered, then chuckled, and finally roared with laughter. He clutched his sides and tried to regain his composure while Turlough pawed at him. “Just a minute, please. Let me catch my breath.” He pulled his jumper up over his head, and let Turlough get to work on the buttons of his shirt. “Couldn’t you have just told her you were…”

“Oh no. The last female I tried to explain that to was determined to cure me. Besides, for all I know the spirits of the forest frown on that sort of thing.”

The Doctor shivered. “See, now I’m cold. I told you. Could we continue this in my room?” Turlough relented, and helped him to his feet. “You’re certainly…assertive lately,” he remarked as they left the control room.

Turlough shrugged. “I told you I was going to become more aggressive in the third cycle.”

“Yes, well, I’m not sure I believe that.”

“What? That I can be aggressive? Shall I pin you down again and prove it?”

“No, not that. I don’t believe there is a third cycle.”

“Would I like to the man I love?” The young man smiled sweetly.

Touching, but he is…Turlough. “If you thought you had a good reason.” He stopped walking, and gave the redhead a chance to come clean.

His lover sighed. “Fine. There is a third cycle, but only for females.”

“I don’t know why you feel such a need to embellish the truth,” the Doctor said as they entered the bedroom. “I’ve told you over and over – if you want something you should just ask. The worst I’ll do is say no.”

Turlough looked up at him and grinned. “Can I top?”

“No.”

Fic -Unbound, Chapter 9

Sun, 21 Jan 2007 02:56:19 GMT

Title:Unbound
Categories(?):Smutty goodness, a touch of romance, humor, angst, BDSM
Rating: NC-17
Author's Note: This is the final chapter, but I feel an epilogue coming on. I set it in the mythical gap after Frontios

Thanks to everyone who read and double thanks to everyone who took time to review. This started out as a little fantasy, and I had a lot of fun filling it out into something other people might like as well.

Renewed thanks to my beta-reader nnwest for sticking with me through the end. If you notice any punctuation or grammatical errors, it's because I did some last-minute revising after she corrected me.

Also, since this is the most dialogue I've ever written for Tegan (and I'd like to do more in the future) I appreciate constructive criticism on that. I know I made her a littler softer than she sometimes seems on the show, but I figured she can't be angry all the time.

Unbound - Chapter 9

Unable to sleep after their side-trip to drop off the Gravis, Tegan went for a walk. Having no desire to end up in an unfamiliar, probably unsafe, part of the TARDIS, she followed the route she mapped out long ago just in case she felt the need for nocturnal wandering. First she stopped at the kitchen, dissolving a packet of bitter-tasting powder in hot water. Nyssa called it a sure-fire cure for insomnia. It was fairly awful, but for Tegan, it was sweetened by the memory of her even-tempered friend. She smiled, recalling the differences between the human and Traken constitutions. Nyssa would be out like a light. I’m good for another hour at least.

Tegan paid a visit to the wardrobe room and its vast collection of footwear. Now that her ankle was back to normal she felt like wearing something colorful and dangerously sloped. After putting together three potential ensembles, she headed toward the cloister. The Doctor himself often meditated in the area, but Tegan had her own little spot in the corner where she liked to sit when she needed to think.

Frontios had been an eye-opener. Everything about the last outpost of humanity felt gritty and final. Her existence in the TARDIS was transitory by comparison. Death may be the inevitable result of life, but Tegan often felt shielded from it. She didn’t know whether that was good or bad.

The fact that I’m not alone in emotional limbo is not necessarily comforting. For two weeks she’d watched Turlough and the Doctor float through their respective realities, behaving as if the two realms were isolated. Not letting on that she knew about the row, as she thought of it, Tegan had asked the Doctor, in the most general terms, what was wrong. The Time Lord was more close-mouthed than usual. He assured her it was, “Nothing - a difference in personal philosophies. It’ll blow over, and things will get back to normal before long.” She could tell he was lying, and his recent manic behavior was proof of his failure to convince even himself that everything was going to be just fine.

Turlough was doing his best to avoid everyone. Unless they were at a specific destination he hardly ever came out of his room. Sometimes, when Tegan did catch a glimpse of him, she noticed his eyes were bloodshot, and he smelled of alcohol. After they left Frontios, Tegan wanted to talk to him, just to make sure he was okay, but he’d grabbed a bottle from the kitchen and walked past her without so much as a word.

Speak of the devil. Tegan saw that Turlough was already wandering around the cloister room, heedless of her approach. He looked impossibly sad, standing between two pillars with his arms outstretched, running his fingers over the stone. “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?” she asked to announce her presence. Turlough jumped, and scowled at her.

“No.”

Tegan sat down on a stone bench and patted the cool surface. “There’s room for two people to not sleep together,” she teased, hoping to draw out a sarcastic retort. He barely lifted his head.

“Okay.”

The silence took up more space than either of their bodies. Tegan inhaled deeply and forced the air out in a loud “Hmmm”. As usual, it’s up to me to get the ball rolling. Does it occur to anyone that I wouldn’t have to talk so much if they would just speak up? “What’s going on with you?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, beyond the nightmares of giant snails. What’s with you and him.”

Turlough stared at the floor. “It’s nothing,” he protested weakly.

“Why bother lying if you aren’t going to put any effort into it? You’ve been in a good mood – happy I’d say – for months, and now all of a sudden you’re back to the way you were when you first came aboard the TARDIS. Actually I think you might be worse now. Then you were being a jerk on purpose. Now it’s like you can’t help it.”

He tried smirk, but didn’t seem to be able to coax his lips into doing more than twitch nervously. “Told you it wouldn’t last.”

Tegan frowned. “You don’t fool me.”

“Oh?” he sniffed. “I did once.”

“Hardly. I’ve got keeping an eye on you down to a science. This is the face you put on when you’re scared – when you’re hiding from something. I’ve got news for you. You can’t just hide and hope it all goes away – because it never really does.”

Turlough began to fidget. “Let it alone, Tegan.”

“I’m not going to ignore you and just hope you don’t hurt yourself again,” she vowed, managing to keep the tremor in her voice to a minimum.

“What do you know about that?”

“You had bandages on your wrists.”

Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, Turlough sighed. “Not for the reason you think, Tegan. It wasn’t a suicide attempt.”

“Whatever. And I suppose you aren’t drinking yourself sick almost every night.”

“No, sometimes I pass out before I throw up. It isn’t any of your business.” He rose to his feet, but she pulled him back down.

“The hell it isn’t!” she yelled. “This is my home too, and you’re my friend – whether you like it or not. I’m sick of your moping. The Doctor’s just as bad.”

“Oh, is he getting drinking as well?”

“He doesn’t need to. He’s ‘working’ all the time. Out there, in front of other people, you try to act normal, but inside the TARDIS…it’s ridiculous. I may as well tell you that I overheard part of your fight the other day.”

Now Turlough stared at her, his face flushed with embarrassment. “You did?”

“Yeah, and I know it must have been about something pretty heavy because some of it the TARDIS wouldn’t translate for me.”

“Hmm, I didn’t know that.”

“I keep going over what I saw and heard. It seemed very personal. What did you mean when you told him the game was over, and that he’d lost?”

Turlough’s knees bounced and his voice faded to a whisper. “You wouldn’t understand.”

She rolled her eyes. “You say that a lot. It might be true, but if you don’t give people a chance to get to know you – and don’t give me any nonsense about how we wouldn’t like you if we knew you. I’ll judge that for myself, thank you. Frankly, what I find most annoying about you is your stubborn insistence that you’re unlikable.”

The redhead gaped at her.

Pleased to have rendered him speechless, Tegan continued. “What, no snappy comeback to that? Good. Now tell me what’s bothering you before I have to beat it out of you. Today was rough for me, and downright brutal for you. No one likes to be alone after something like that, even you. So why are you skulking around instead of pestering me, or hanging around him?”

Turlough’s lower lip trembled a bit as he spoke. “He doesn’t want me…around him right now.”

“Who started the fight?”

Becoming more animated, Turlough insisted, “He did! He’s always asking questions, needing to know more. He’s quieter than you, but just as bad.”

“Knowing how well you respond to being cornered, I suppose you lashed out and said hurtful things.”

“M-maybe I did.”

“Which you’ve done before so really I don’t see why he hasn’t been all ‘forgive and forget’ yet…” Suddenly it dawned on her what the fight may have been about. Actually the light of truth burned white hot in Tegan’s brain, and she gasped. “Turlough, are you sleeping with the Doctor?”

“Not anymore,” he croaked.

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at her companion, her mouth hanging open. “Wow. It all makes sense now – you guys being all chummy but secretive. And the fight, what little I heard…it was a lover’s quarrel.”

“No!” Turlough said forcefully. “We’re not…he said…we can’t be…but I…”

Seeing that he was on the verge of hyperventilating with the strain of holding back tears, Tegan backed off. She closed her left hand over his right and squeezed. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s okay.”

He shook his head sharply and stopped sniffling. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, regaining his composure. “It’s over.”

Tegan prodded, “Tell me what happened.” She was reeling from the revelation that her two best friends had apparently been very friendly with each other – more friendly than I imagined them capable of.

“I can’t. It’s just too much. I couldn’t tell him, and I’m certainly not going to bare my soul to you.”

Irritating little…Tegan called upon words of wisdom from her favorite relative. “Aunt Vanessa used to say you can’t fix the problem if you don’t know what caused it. So if tell me what the problem is, I’ll try to help you figure out a solution.”

A strangled laugh burbled from Turlough’s throat. “Why would you want to help me? It’s not worth the effort.”

“Is that what you think – that he’s not worth the effort? Being…close to him was obviously good for you.” Tegan didn’t know who was at fault yet, but she was willing to split the blame fifty-fifty until she knew more.

“I think you’ll agree that he’s too good for me,” Turlough shot back, sneering. “I’d only disappoint him in the end. Today I tried to do something good. I overcame my fear and I-I tried. But none of that matters compared to what I’ve done before – what I am.”

Completely confused, Tegan couldn’t help but ask the obvious question. “What are you, then?”

He snarled at her. “Do you really want to know? Do you want to hear all the dirty little things I’ve done to feel good or safe for the tiniest amount of time? I’ve been bought and paid for, Tegan. Would you like to know how cheap I am?”

Tegan waved her arms in the air and stamped her feet on the floor. “Haven’t you learned anything? Where you’ve been doesn’t matter nearly as much as where you’re going. It’s the choices you make now that are important. He doesn’t care about your past affairs. He wouldn’t treat you any differently if he knew…”

“He would eventually,” Turlough insisted.

I’ve had this conversation before – with friends back home. He needs the ‘don’t give up on love just because one man treated you badly’ speech. How, in just a few years, did I go from instructing hundreds of people on the proper way to fasten a seatbelt, to giving relationship advice to aliens? I'm not trained for this. But then, I've never backed away from a challenge. “Just because someone hurt you once, doesn’t mean everyone will.”

“He wasn’t someone!” Turlough spat. “He was a stupid human – pathetic and inferior. It didn’t mean anything. I didn’t love him!” His angry shouts wound down, and his expression was one of utter despair. “I didn’t…I couldn’t. He didn’t love me. I have scars to remind me of that fact.” He stood up and moved away.

“Turlough, don’t go,” she pleaded. “Talk to me.”

“I’m done talking, Tegan. None of it matters. As you said, it’s in the past – including this little chat, which I hope I’ll forget entirely by tomorrow morning…with a little help.”

--

As much she wanted to follow Turlough and force him to keep talking, Tegan knew he wouldn’t tolerate any more of her well-intentioned meddling. And I’m not really the one he needs talk to.

While she might not be able to reach one of her companions, she’d be damned if she’d let the other one off the hook. That one has more explaining to do. When Tegan located the Doctor, she didn’t waste any time getting to the point. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she barked.

Not anticipating an inquisition, the Doctor was taken aback. “Tegan? What?”

Feet planted firmly and hands wedged against her hips, Tegan gave the bewildered looking blond a piece of her mind. “You! Mr. Great and Powerful Time Lord - Mr. Voice of Experience. Boy, did you screw up this time.”

The Doctor scowled. “Have I done something in particular to warrant being yelled at, or is this a random personal attack?”

Tegan took a second to admire how good he’d gotten at responding to her verbal barrages. I’ll compliment him later, when I’m not furious with him. “I know there’s two sides to every story, but Turlough is messed up - always has been. When I told you he was in trouble, you said you’d help. I’d say sleeping with him is more than helping.”

The Gallifreyan’s lips were pressed together so tightly they were a white line. “That is none of your business,” he stated firmly. “But since you’ve stuck your nose in, I might as well say that I didn’t intend for it to happen that way.”

As hard as he was trying not to raise his voice to her, Tegan knew he was going to fail. I can still out-shout him any day. “No one ever does. You know, I think I gave you too much credit for being a centuries old alien. You’re still a stupid man!”

“How interesting that after travelling with me for years you’ve just now noticed my gender and chosen to insult me for it!”

“I only meant you’re being a typically stubborn male,” she retorted. “You saw what he went through today, and coming so soon after your fight – oh yes, I know about that. Doctor, he’s hit bottom. He almost cried in front of me. He’s terribly confused, and I’m pretty sure he thought you loved him.”

The Doctor blanched. “I did…I do…I think. Why am I even talking to you about this? It’s none of your concern.”

“Since when? We’re friends – a strange sort of family actually - and I won’t watch you two tear it apart because you both refuse to tell each other how you feel.” Tegan’s eyes felt hot, but she was determined not to cry. “Why’d you have to keep bugging him? Not everyone’s life is an open book. Some people prefer to keep their mistakes to themselves.”

“Excuse me for wanting to know more about the person I’m…ahem. He started it by implying our relationship meant nothing to him. And then he resorted to childish name-calling,” the Doctor protested, looking for all the universe like a sullen teenager.

Tegan sighed. “He didn’t mean it, Doctor. I saw his face before you walked away. He was scared and hurt. He’s afraid you’ll end up treating like the last man he cared for – that you’ll ask too much of him, and be angry when he doesn’t deliver.”

“He told you that?”

“He told me enough. I don’t need all the details to understand the situation. Being hurt by the one you love is all too common - which is interesting given his, and your, uncommon lives. Doctor, whoever it was that he loved, but didn’t want to love, did more than break Turlough’s heart – he…well I don’t really know, but it must have been awful.”

The Doctor looked chastened. “I have my suspicions, but he refused to tell me. When I pressed him, the conversation turned ugly. Oh dear. It seems I started it.”

Seeing that he was genuinely sorry, Tegan softened her tone. “He doesn’t think he’s good enough for someone like you, and he’s convinced himself you would eventually agree.”

“How can he think that? He’s wonderful…I…”

“Why are you telling me? Go tell him.”

“Should I? Right now?”

“Yes, right now, before he crawls back into a bottle. He needs a friend - and more. He needs someone to hold him.”

The Doctor muttered, “I do miss him.”

Tegan took the Time Lord’s arm and spun him around to face the door. “Go tell him, right now. March.” When he continued to hesitate, Tegan rolled her eyes. “For cryin’ out loud!” She ended up leading him down the corridor by the sleeve like a child. When they reached Turlough’s room, Tegan knocked softly.

“What?” an angry voice called from within.

“Turlough, it’s me, Tegan. Can I come in?”

“Whatever.”

Tegan stuck her head in and saw him sitting on the bed, knees drawn up to his chest. “Hey,” she said quietly. “Um, there’s someone who wants to see you.” Stepping aside, she shoved the Doctor into the room and pulled the door shut behind him. I’m tempted to stay and listen, but if they don’t patch it up, I reckon I’ll hear the fallout from my room just fine.

---

The Doctor froze. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands still, he clasped them behind his back. Turlough glanced up at him warily. It seemed neither wanted to be the first to speak. Once more, he was grateful for his companion’s willingness to make the first move.

“Did you need something?” Turlough inquired.

There's so much sadness in his eyes. Do I really believe I can remove any of it? I want to try. “Er, I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Oh. Well, I’m still in one piece. I suppose that’s close enough to ‘all right’.”

The Doctor’s mind raced. I don't know how to say what I want, and what if that isn't the same as what he needs to hear?

The young man grew impatient. “Leave me alone, then. Go tell Tegan you made an attempt so she’ll get off your back.”

“I miss you.” The Doctor’s voice cracked as he spoke. He took a tentative step forward. “I miss talking to you, and laughing with you. I miss looking right at you and not having you turn away.”

Turlough flinched, but scooted over on the bed, making just a little bit of room for another person to sit down. The Doctor, feeling more confident, sat down and continued. “I enjoy your company – and not solely for the physical pleasure. Though, clearly, I like that too. I think I’d almost forgotten how much I do enjoy it, until you reminded me. I adore the way you look so calm when no one else is watching. I’d like to believe that our being together brought you some happiness – some peace. It did me.”

The Doctor wasn’t sure if he was getting through to Turlough until he felt thin arms around his shoulders, and a cool forehead pressed against his neck. He wrapped his arms around his friend in turn, and held him tightly.

Turlough shook his head swiftly, brushing his hair against the Doctor’s chin. “I missed you, too,” he confessed. “I tried not to, but I can’t help it. I always screw things up.”

“Perhaps we could both accept blame and try to move forward.”
They held each other for some time, enjoying just being near each other again. Eventually, the Doctor chuckled. “You were right, you know.”

“About what?”

“The game metaphor did break down. We both lost, and we both took it pretty badly.”

“Hmm, for once I wish I’d been wrong. Of course I think things got more complicated once we realized we weren’t really playing any longer.”

The Doctor got serious again. “If you don’t want…if you don’t want us to have that sort of relationship any longer, I understand. But please don’t let it be because of my foolish inquiries. If you don’t want to tell me about Granger, I’ll accept that. Please understand that I could see it was eating away at you, and only wanted to help. I hated to think that I reminded you of someone who…”

“Oh no, never – not like that. It wasn’t your fault. It was just I allowed myself to be vulnerable. It felt good to give up a little, but once I started to worry about how much I might lose, I couldn’t stop. The only trait you share with him is the power to make me feel…out of control. And when I let that happen, things went very wrong.”

“I would like you to trust me with this little bit of your past. I promise it doesn’t mean I want you to give up all your secrets. They’re part of you, and I would never demand anything of you that you didn’t feel ready to give.”

Turlough grimaced, but he held onto the Doctor. “I’ll try to explain what happened,” he said at last. “But you have to let me tell it in my own way and not to interrupt too much. All right?”

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, facing his enigmatic companion, the Time Lord vowed he would listen.

---

Turlough began, “He was the only human with whom I had anything resembling a romantic relationship. I’d been at school a little over a year; long enough to know a teacher looking at a student like that meant trouble, but a short enough time to be careless of the consequences. I see now how terribly naïve I was. I was lonely, and he was attentive, flattering me constantly about how talented and mature I was. He really did help with my artwork. I never got much encouragement to develop that sort of talent growing up. There were more pressing concerns.

He made it clear that wanted me. I wanted him as well, so why shouldn’t we have each other? He was very cautious and gentle at first, until he realized I wasn’t exactly ignorant of the subject. When I agreed to let him tie me up the first time I was sure I would hate it. Instead I found it thrilling. It was a challenge – one I could not only survive, but beat. It made me feel strong and confident. I failed the stupid ancient history exam, but I could stay hogtied for an hour without a complaint.

As you’ve no doubt noticed, I never called him by his first name. It was either Granger, or, at his request, Master. It was a satisfactory arrangement. He’d bind me, use me for his pleasure, and give me pleasure in return. His rules were few and punishment was nonexistent in the beginning. I wanted to please him, and not just sexually, though I am rather talented in that area.

The Doctor interrupted. “What did he make of your apparent age?”

Turlough shrugged. “On some level he had to recognize that I possessed experience beyond my supposed years, but sometimes I played at being young because it seemed to fulfill his fantasy image of me. Other times I dropped the act, and let on that I was not the average English schoolboy. That was a mistake – letting him glimpse the real me. Shouldn’t have done that.”

“You can’t blame yourself for not being able to hide everything,” the Doctor said.

“I most certainly can,” the Trion replied acidly. “Over time he became more demanding. I had to be careful how I spoke to him, and he took it very personally when I, um, didn’t want to do certain things. I think his ego demanded that I be ready and willing whenever the mood struck him. Somehow I managed to convince myself that I still had everything under control. He asked me to get away from school and stay with him over the Christmas holiday. So I nicked some letterhead from my solicitor's office and forged permission to visit some distant relative. Granger lived far enough away from Brendon that it wouldn’t immediately cause suspicion if he had a young houseguest.

Obviously I couldn’t walk around in my school uniform so he bought me clothes. He took me places, and introduced me to his friends as a promising university art student. We even made up a fake name: Ethan. I adored the surprised looks we got he would put his arm around me; the jealous glances from across the room as he confided to close friends that we were lovers. I was ridiculously taken with the whole affair. It was a marvelous game of pretend; one in which I was choosing to participate rather than the farce I lived the rest of my time on Earth. I shared his bed, and slept in his arms; adored. I thought he cared for me. It would have been a fair trade, really, for all I did for him.

Regardless of how we acted in public, in private he was still my master, and he was always introducing me to new sensations, giving me new challenges. He liked to blindfold me, which I found exciting. That cold thing on my skin could be ice, or it could be a sharp blade. I never knew. He told me he was helping me expand my mind, to let go of my fear and surrender to him. I couldn’t let all my barriers down, but at the same time I wanted to try. I was afraid to lose him. You have no idea how much I needed to feel special. At Brendon, I was that weird boy Turlough. But Ethan was smart and sophisticated. People treated Ethan like a man – the man I was supposed to be…would have been if not for…I swear I’m trying to get to the point. It’s difficult to relive.”

The Doctor smiled and looked sympathetic.

“He began pushing me to my limits mentally and physically. He wanted to spank me? Fine. He wanted to flog me? Actually, I enjoy that as well, but you have to have a good leather one, not the cheap plastic crap they sell at novelty shops. He wanted it a bit rough? I don’t mind, as long as I get some warning that’s how it’s going to be. He wanted me to crawl, and to beg. So I did; I suppose to prove to him I was worthy of his attention. One night he worked me over pretty thoroughly, and I was flying high. Blindfolded…bound so tightly…I think I would have walked on broken glass if he’d said to. But when he said, ‘Tell me you love me’ I froze. I couldn’t. That’s not something you…and don’t mean it.

That night was the first, and only, he used a cane on me. I never want to experience that kind of pain again. But I took it, even though I knew he was hitting me out of anger. I don’t think it even occurred to me to say my safeword. Maybe I didn’t think he would stop.” Turlough paused, trying to recollect his state of mind at that time.

The Doctor was scowling. “He should have recognized that you were past the point where you could reasonably make decisions. He should have stopped regardless of what you did, or did not, say.”

“What’s that they say – shoulda, woulda, coulda…but didn’t. Knowing him, he was totally focused on how aroused and/or angry he was at that point didn’t care about damaging me. Sometimes I think he forgot I was an actual person, you know, with feelings. I may try to keep them hidden, but I do have them.

I was dizzy, and probably dehydrated, when he put me on my back, which, as you know, is difficult for me even when I haven’t just been beaten, and tied my wrists to my ankles. He ordered me to offer myself to him in as obscene a manner as possible. He wore me down until I did as he said – repeating any line he fed me. ‘I belong to you, Master. This body is yours. I-I love you.’ He made me say it over and over again while he…that part was over quickly, which was good as he was not particularly considerate.

I needed him to untie me, to comfort me and say he was pleased that I’d done what he wanted. Like you do, only, you know, you don’t… Ahem, I lay on the bed, sore and shaking, unable to see. I don’t know how long I called for him, pleading not to be left alone. I shouted until my throat was raw. When he finally came back he didn’t say anything, just untied me. I was so grateful to be able to move again that I clung to him. He wouldn’t let me take the blindfold off, and when I tried to kiss him and he turned away.” Turlough’s face twisted at the memory. “Bastard,” he snarled. “One little bit of comfort and he couldn’t even give me that much.

I felt awful the next day. Physically, I was weak. Add to that, how confused I was. I wanted him to explain, to help me understand why he’d done what he did, made me say those things…It just hit me. That whole day I was waiting for him to say that he loved me back. I really wanted to hear it. Huh, never occurred to me before.” He shrugged, and then proceeded with the narrative. “He was busy getting things ready for the party he was throwing that evening. He wanted to show off his new video recorder and player.” Turlough snickered a little. “It was such crap, not even digital, but to him it was cutting edge technology. Anyway the party guests were couples like Granger and me – dominants and submissives. That was the first time I ever behaved subservient in front of others, but for some reason I felt an intense need to do it. Maybe I was showing off. I don’t know. Anyway I got his drinks, lit his cigarettes, and sat at his feet like the others did with their masters.”

Difficult as it was to tell the tale, and fully aware that he had not yet revealed the worst of it, Turlough was glad to get it all off his chest. And the Doctor’s not making those sad eyes at me so it’s a bit easier. He reached for the Gallifreyan’s hands, and held them lightly in his own.

“So the doms started bragging. This girl could get whipped for hours, this bloke would let you chew his nipples half off, etc. I was so embarrassed when Granger talked about me, because he didn’t even look at me. He starts telling people I’m a champion cocksucker. ‘Like vacuum, he is. On his knees, upside down, underwater – never spits. Really, he’ll let you fuck his face for hours.'” Turlough saw the Doctor grimace. “Vulgar, I know, but I was proud,” he explained. “Still, it was weird hearing it laid out like that. One of the men asked Granger if I would show his…girl some of my techniques because she was awfully shy about oral sex. I was uncomfortable with the idea of doing that with Granger in front of other people, but I thought if I kept my eyes closed I could probably handle it. Then I realized that the man meant he wanted me to perform on him. And Granger wasn’t saying no. I was confused and upset. I didn’t understand how he could want me to do that after what he’d made me say the night before. Didn’t I belong just to him? Still I managed to stay in character and asked to speak with ‘my master’ in the kitchen.

He was angry. ‘What’s the problem, Turlough?’

‘I don’t want to…’

‘It’s not about what you want. You belong to me, and I’m telling you to do it.’

‘Why would you want me to touch anyone else? After last night…don’t you feel…’

‘If you really love me you’ll do this. It’s important for you to let go of yourself.’

‘I can’t do that.’

He was furious. He told me to stay in the kitchen until he came to get me. I started drinking anything I could find with alcohol in it, sure that he would be back at any minute and insist I go through with it. I…I would have to. I couldn’t lose him.”

The Doctor nodded sympathetically, but remained quiet.

“A little bit later a sub called David came looking for me. He said, ‘My mistress asks if you are all right.’

I snapped at him. ‘Never better!’

He looked very concerned, which only made me angry. ‘Ethan, you shouldn’t play if you’ve been drinking.’

I laughed in his face. ‘You want me to be sober while my lover gives me to another man? If I’m drunk enough maybe I won’t care how many of you have a go’

‘Ethan, you don’t have to…’

‘What do you know about what I have to do? Does your mistress ever hit you when you say no? Does she make you bleed?’

‘Whoa, Ethan, if your master is really hurting you – not respecting your limits…”

He stopped when we heard a voice from the living room. Someone was begging, pleading to be touched. It was my voice. I opened the door and saw myself on the television screen…naked, spreading myself open, professing my love for my Master. I shook so violently my teeth rattled. He’d filmed us…me...he’d had the camera on the whole time. Everyone could see me – see what I’d done – what he made me do.”

Turlough’s chin dropped to his chest and let out a ragged sigh. Slowly he managed to raise his head and continue.

“Granger came over to my side and whispered, ‘You are mine, loverboy. I wanted these people to see how I own your body. Now be a good boy and come sit down. I want you to watch yourself beg to be used like a whore.’

I was in shock, unable to tear my eyes away from the screen. I’d never seen myself like that. I didn’t look strong at all. I looked weak, and small. For the first time ever…I felt dirty. I’d let him debase me, for what? Well, I might have been a whore, but I couldn’t stay and watch myself act like one. I ran out of the flat and made it outside in time to vomit in the street. It had started snowing and I ran blindly until I couldn’t breathe. My memory is fuzzy after that. I remember sitting down on the pavement, hoping a car would jump the curb and run me over. I have never been so ashamed of myself- and believe me, there’s a list of things I’ve done of which I am not proud. But that I let him – a human – make me believe that he cared. I let him manipulate me.”

Turlough stopped, and let the Doctor embrace him for a moment. “How did you get back to school?”

“Oh, that bloke David, and his mistress, Jenny– who was also his wife – found me and took me back to their place. I freaked out when I woke up in a strange dark room being stripped of my clothes, but David managed to calm me down. I was soaking wet, and he explained that Jenny was a nurse. She insisted on checking me for frostbite and in the process it became clear I had other injuries. They were appalled by some of the marks on me. Granger hadn’t treated them properly so Jenny was worried about infection. She wanted me to go to the hospital, but that just wasn’t an option. So she did what she could, and, of course, started asking questions. I dropped one set of lies for another. I said, ‘My name’s not Ethan. It’s Turlough. I'm not at university. I'm not even in the sixth form. Mr. Granger is my art instructor.’

Jenny was shocked. ‘Turlough, do your parents know where you are?’

‘My parents are dead. I’m with him now.’ I sounded like a brainwashed zombie. Felt like one too.

‘Did you consent to any of this?’

‘It’ll heal. I should go back. I’ll be in big trouble.’ I tried to be brave, to get up and leave, but I could see the pity in her eyes. The horror of the situation washed over me. ‘He filmed me. Oh God! You’ve seen me…’ I started to cry and could not stop. I struggled, but they kept me from leaving.

‘Turlough, you need to rest. You’re exhausted. In the morning we can figure out what to do. Listen to me. What he did to you was wrong. Your submission is a gift, not an obligation. He ought to protect you and cherish you. Clearly he failed to do so. There’s no excuse for that.’

The Doctor nodded emphatically, “I agreeing whole-heartedly with Jenny.”

“I didn’t want to sleep, but I couldn’t help it. In the morning David made breakfast, but I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t even look at him, and I felt like I’d never be able to hold my head up again. Jenny had gone out, and when she returned to the flat she handed me a videocassette. She said, ‘Turlough, I can’t begin to tell you how wrong Granger was to film you without your consent. As soon as you left last night I shut the tape off and gave him what for. He claimed you just hadn’t known the tape would be shown to others. I went back to his place this morning. He didn’t have the equipment to make copies so that’s yours. He won’t be playing with anyone our group knows for a long time, and he won’t be making anymore films.’ She took a hammer out of her handbag and handed it to me. They helped me smash and burn the tape.

I knew I ought to get back to the school, but I wasn’t ready to face the rest of the world yet. Jenny and David let me spend Christmas with them. I don’t think I ever had a nicer holiday on Earth. They were normal, kind, people, and they never made me feel badly for having gotten involved with Granger in the first place. Of course I was more than capable of punishing myself for that. The hard part is, until the end, I can’t honestly say how much of what he did I didn’t want. It’s a bit muddled even now. So much has happened to me since then.”

“So that was it?” the Doctor asked. “He continued teaching?”

“Jenny and David wanted to call the police, or at least try to get him in trouble with the school, but ultimately that would make things very difficult for me so they respected my decision to handle things my way. Granger approached me one day and tried to apologize, begging me to come back to him. I wanted to smash his face in. How could he think I would ever let him touch me again? But I held my temper, and plotted my revenge. I told him I could only consider resuming our relationship if he would demonstrate his remorse by allowing me to tie him up.”

The Doctor coughed. “He agreed? Not smart.”

“No, not smart at all,” Turlough confirmed. “You see, I’m just as good at tying knots as he was. So I had him trussed up like a turkey on the desk in his office – naked and eager. I was kind. I used more than enough lubricant to get the vibrator in. Once it was strapped in place, I turned it on, stood back, and watched him turn to jelly. Then I let the photography club in.”

“Dear Lord!”

“All right, not the whole club, just the two boys who ran it; the Wilson brothers. I found out he’d been making passes at both of them, despite claiming he pined for me. I untied him after an hour and made it clear that if he ever tried anything with another boy from Brendon I’d make sure the Headmaster saw the pictures.”

Scratching his head, the Doctor expressed a concern. “How did you keep the Wilsons quiet?”

Turlough smirked. “I’m very persuasive. A bottle of rum and a quick roll in the hay got me the negatives.”

“Both of them?”

“Did I mention they were twins?” Turlough raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“Goodness. Hell hath no fury. So, no more teachers for you, then?”

The redhead sighed wistfully. “Not for awhile. I’m afraid Turlough had to behave for quite some time to avoid the ire of his handlers. Ethan, on the other hand, got around.”

“It doesn’t matter to me what you call yourself,” the Doctor insisted. “I like you – the you sitting in front of me at this very moment.”

Turlough smiled and felt his cheeks get hot. “I know. I like me more than I used to. And I liked our little ‘game’ very much. I wish it hadn’t ended the way it did, or at all.”

The Doctor looked thoughtful. “I did mean it when I said it was enough for me that you would be my friend and companion.”

“I can handle that,” Turlough agreed. Do I hear another ‘but’ in there?

“But…there is a room in my life for a lover.” He let the offer dangle for a bit.

Turlough faltered. “I-I can’t say…”

The Doctor spoke earnestly. “So don’t say anything until you want to.
Though perhaps you could let me call it as I see it.”

“I can try.”

“Oh good.”

Unfolding himself from the Doctor, he asked, “Would you stay here tonight? I mean, just be near me for awhile?”

“Of course. And maybe another time, if you liked, you could come to my room.”

“I would like that very much,” Turlough admitted, yawning and stretching out on the bed. The Doctor lay on his back next to him, letting the younger man get as close as he felt comfortable. “You know, I liked you being my…Sir, I guess. Maybe sometimes you could still be that?”

“Possibly. But it might be better to put it on hold for a bit while we see where this takes us.”

“If you insist. Hmmm…” Turlough snickered as he lay his head on the Gallifreyan’s chest.

“What’s so funny?”

“Well, if Tegan knows all about us now…”

“She doesn’t know everything,” the Doctor pointed out. “I’m assuming you don’t want to be quite that open.”

“Of course not, but I would like to be able to wear my cuffs around the TARDIS whenever it suits me.”

“I suppose you could,” the Doctor acknowledged.

“That would be good. I like to be reminded that I am yours.” He giggled lightly at the thought of Tegan’s reaction to…

His lover sighed in exasperation. “Turlough, you little exhibitionist. Not only the cuffs. You still have to be cover up in the corridor.”

Turlough grinned. “So you can still read me?”

“When you’re thinking right at me, yes.”

“Good.”

The Trion made sure the Doctor received a very clear mental image that made his left heart skip a beat.

“We’ll see about that in the morning. You need your rest, and I’m not sure if I have that much string aboard the TARDIS.”

Fic - Unbound, Chapter 8

Fri, 19 Jan 2007 02:25:01 GMT

Title:Unbound
Categories(?):Smutty goodness, a touch of romance, humor, angst, BDSM
Rating: NC-17
Author's Note: More angst anyone?

Unbound - Chapter 8

As time went on, and they were not so new to one another, Turlough worried that the Doctor might find their somewhat unusual playtime activities less exciting. Happily, not only did he show no signs of becoming bored, he delighted in surprising his young partner by becoming very attentive at unexpected times. Turlough considered himself a quick thinker, able to adapt his behavior to suit the situation, but frequently he found himself outmatched. The deceptively mild Gallifreyan was able to conceal his intentions behind a gentle smile, leaving his companion little time to either evade, or form a defense against, the impending attack. Once he found himself pushed up against a wall with a hand or thigh wedged between his legs, Turlough always resisted for a short while before giving in. He thought the Doctor ought to work for it a little.

In return, Turlough liked making small, playful overtures toward his partner. A soft exhalation across the back of the neck when the Doctor bent to examine a bit of circuitry up close was a favorite attention-getter. He became bolder, picking pockets, and hiding tools or the Time Lord’s glasses, on his person. A thorough search was the only logical course of action.

Despite a shared trust, and their growing affection for one another, they remained very private people. Their relationship remained a secret kept from the third person on the TARDIS. Turlough rarely felt guilty about it, but he suspected the Doctor did.

--

The Doctor felt guilty, Tegan could see it in his eyes. She leaned back on freshly fluffed pillows and let him fuss a moment longer before sighing in exasperation. “I’m fine, Doctor,” she said, patting his arm reassuringly.

“Are you sure?” he asked nervously. “Do you need anything? More painkillers? I can’t touch them, but I could get Turlough to...”

“No!” Tegan said rather loudly. Then, calming herself, she explained, “He was here all afternoon. I know I gave you two a scare, but you’re both overreacting.”

“We feel badly. I should have seen that the floor dropped off at the turn, and he really did try to stop your fall.”

Tegan groaned and rubbed her eyes. “I know. He told me about ten times. He’s probably just worried I thought he was trying to knock us off again.”

“I think we’re past the point where you have to worry about being collateral damage,” the Doctor said with a small smile.

Tegan giggled. “Don’t think I’m important enough for the Black Guardian to worry about?” To her relief, the Doctor chuckled.

“It’s doubtful - though I consider you something of a force for good. Of course, given Turlough’s track record, I wouldn’t be terribly surprised that if he did try to kill you’d only come out with a sprained ankle.” Color rose to the Time Lord’s cheeks, and Tegan realized he hadn’t intended to say the last part out loud. “Please don’t tell him I said that,” he begged.

“Our secret,” Tegan promised, looking down at her swollen, purple ankle. “And I always thought I looked good in that color,” she muttered. “ If you’d told me last year that someday we’d be laughing about his attempts…” She shook her head in wonder. “I’m glad you were able to reach him, you know, a ways back when he was having trouble. He seems much more at ease these days – sometimes he even looks happy.”

The Doctor nodded. “I agree.”

Tegan went on. “And I’m glad you have someone to talk smart stuff with.”

“Tegan, I have never thought you unintelligent.”

“You know what I mean. You have someone to pal around with late at night. I hear you two laughing and carrying on when I’m trying to go to sleep.” She was surprised to see the Doctor’s expression become almost remorseful.

“It is not our intention to exclude you,” he said quietly.

Tegan grinned. “Trust me, Doc. I get plenty of both of you every day. I look forward to my alone time in the evening.”

“Tegan, I wonder if…” the Doctor started. “That is, would you find it troubling if perhaps…”

While she waited patiently for him to spit out whatever it was he wanted to say, her ankle started to throb again. On cue, Turlough nudged open the door. “Don’t you knock?” she asked sharply, managing to sound almost irate.

Turlough looked over at her, and then at the Doctor sitting on the edge of her bed. “I would if I thought there was anything going on in here that you wouldn’t want me to see,” he replied calmly. Tegan snickered, and the Doctor frowned. Seeing that Turlough had brought her tea and more painkillers, she smiled.

“All right, nurse. If I take my pills and promise to stay in bed, will you two leave me in peace?” She took the mug from Turlough’s hands as the Doctor prepared to leave. “What’s in this?” she asked, feigning suspicion.

Turlough smiled sweetly. “Just the lemon this time. You appear to be resistant to the poison I slipped in earlier.” Tegan nearly spit out her tea, shaking with laughter.

--

While the Doctor was worrying about Tegan, Turlough had ample time to be concerned for himself. He’d wished he had someone to talk to about his troubles. Someone who wasn’t directly involved. He’d thought about discussing the matter with Tegan, but doubted she was so dim as to be unable to see through his ‘hypothetical’ scenario. So, Tegan, if you were having an affair with someone - and having a wonderful time - but couldn’t stop worrying…who am I sleeping with, you ask? Oh, no one you know. Yeah, that would go over like a lead balloon. Although, if she did find out right now I could at least outrun her. No, it’s best if she doesn’t know.

For days he’d racked his brain, trying to remember something – anything - from the book his mother had given him when he entered his first cycle. What was it called…Cycles of Life…Journey to Adulthood…Growing Up Is A Pain In The…damn. I can’t remember any of the parts that weren’t directly related to all the sex I was looking forward to having…did have…am having.

Turlough longed for blanket assurances that his anxiety was normal. Perhaps every Trion male feels this way…even if they weren’t developmentally delayed, and emotionally stunted…and hadn’t been sent to Earth in the early stages of sexual maturity - forced to seek affection from an inherently inferior group of people! If I ever make it home, maybe I’ll write a chapter for the revised edition.

Having nothing else to do, Turlough looked for something to read. Scanning the library shelves, he came across a tattered guide intended for young adults. He whispered words of gratitude, just in case the TARDIS was listening, and began thumbing through the book. Figures, it’s from Earth; 51st century. Hopefully the humans became more enlightened by then.

He read ‘…will be a time of great personal growth…physical awakening…begin to desire sexual contact with others.’
Blah blah blah. You don’t say. How many ‘others’ is too many? Do I have an abnormally high sex drive, or am I just a slut? In any case I don’t intend to change my behavior so I probably shouldn’t bother making the distinction.

‘Sex play with your peers is normal and healthy. This interaction can help you discover what pleases you, as well as your partner(s)’
See, the 51st century would have been fun. I could have found someone like myself to hang out with. Instead, I get stuck with repressed schoolboys and scum like Granger. And can I consider a 750-year-old regenerating alien my ‘peer’?

‘Formation of emotional attachments to your partners is common. Don’t be frightened. It can be a positive experience.’
Or it could scar you for life. Odds are not in your favor. Stick to the rutting. It’s simpler.

‘How long you associate with a particular partner is a decision you must make after discussing the matter with said partner. We recommend starting out with mutually beneficial short term arrangements. Then, as you feel ready, progress to bonding for longer periods.’
So if the Doctor and I have moved beyond ‘arrangement’, what are we doing now - bonding? Sometimes I feel as if I need him. That isn’t good. I thought I needed Granger, and look what I was willing to do in that case. Turlough put the book back on the shelf and glared at it, angry that it had not given him the answers he sought.

It was so good at first – the connection I’d longed for. When did it start go wrong? Was it the first time he hurt me accidentally, or later, when he hurt me carelessly and I didn’t say anything because I knew he considered any complaint an insult to his performance? Did I show some weakness, or give some sign that made him think it was okay to treat me badly?

No! I will not do this. He did what he did because he was a controlling, possessive, narcissistic arsehole. At least the Doctor asks for what he wants, and he seems to take it well on the rare occasions I turn him down. But he’s asking more questions. I can’t put him off forever. What happens when he’s no longer satisfied with what I can give him? Will he try to see how much he can take?

“Turlough.” A soft voice made him jump. The Doctor was in the doorway, beckoning. “It’s late. You should get some rest.”

Forcing a smile, Turlough shrugged. “I-I’m not very sleepy. I thought I might read for a bit if that’s all right?”

“Of course. Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.” The Trion selected a book at random and stretched out on the couch.

--

Later, Turlough glanced at the man half-slumped against his shoulder; eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. Carefully, he brushed a lock of yellow hair away from the sleeping man’s forehead. Apparently one of us was tired. He looks so peaceful. I can’t imagine he would ever hurt me. If only he weren’t so damn curious. I’m sorry, Doctor. I can’t tell you who I am. If you knew who I really was…the things I’ve done…you wouldn’t like me anymore, and I need you to be my friend above all. But the rest is nice, for as long as it lasts.

Stifling a yawn, he decided he didn’t want to leave the warm, comforting presence at his side. A little nap would be all right. Turlough’s eyelids were soon much too heavy to hold up. His head lolled backward as sleep claimed him.

The Trion’s dreams were rarely fanciful. To be sure, there was a sense of omnipresence, and he always felt he was floating rather than walking. Otherwise, they were reasonably faithful recreations of actual events.

****
A dark-haired, bearded man in his early forties strode confidently into the almost empty classroom, approaching a lone figure hunched over a desk. “How’s my little loverboy, today?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Aren’t you a boy, and my lover?”

Turlough snorted, and did not look up from whatever homework he was doing. “There’s no need to dress it up, Granger. No one cares how nice you are to me. Besides, it’s a little late for flowers and moonlit walks.”

“You’re bitchy today.”

“Yeah, I get like that when I wake up to find blood in my pants.”

“Shit. Did anyone…”

Turlough rolled his eyes. “No one saw. Even if some sick bastard did take an interest in my underclothes they’d probably assume I had terrible personal hygiene. I don’t think anyone’s first thought would be that I’m being sodomized by the art instructor.”

Granger breathed a sigh of relief, and ruffled carefully combed orange hair. “Relax, Turlough. You’re so tense all the time.”

“I was relaxed,” the boy spat. “It did not negate the need for adequate lubrication.”

“I thought you liked it rough.”

“Not that rough. You need to be more careful.”

“I think you’re forgetting who’s in charge here.” Granger’s voice developed an edge that usually made the fiery-tempered Trion more docile, but today he was in a really foul mood, and had no intention of cowing to anyone. When he looked away from his teacher, the man grasped Turlough by the collar and pulled him away from the desk and slid a hand between the boy’s legs. He squeezed much too hard.

Unable to get away, Turlough writhed in pain, and begged, “Stop…Master, please…stop. You’re really hurting me. Ah – Brendon!” Approximately twenty seconds later, by his own count, he was released.

“Consider it a challenge,” his master said blithly of the injuries he had inflicted the day before. “Will you bear the pain to prove your loyalty to me?”

Red-faced, Turlough lodged a protest as soon as he got to his feet. “I’m loyal! I-I can’t stay today. There’s a history quiz tomorrow and if I don’t start getting better marks I’ll have to take the stupid class again.”

Granger acted as if he hadn’t heard, and tugged at Turlough’s tie insistently. “C’mon, we’ll make it quick.”

“No, not today. I don’t want to.”

“Fine.” The older man held his hands up in mock surrender. “If you’re too busy for me…if you don’t want me anymore…just say so. I’m sure one of your classmates would appreciate my personal attention.”

Turlough’s head hung down. “Don’t say that,” he whispered. “I still want to be with you. I just…I can’t do that today. Please don’t be angry with me.” He shuffled forward and laid his head against the older man’s shoulder. “I suppose I could do something else if you want.”

Granger was all smiles again as he started unbuttoning his trousers. “That’s my good boy. You know, I was thinking that you should come home with me for the holiday.”

“Really?” Turlough was elated, then skeptical. “Wait, how am I going to get permission for that?”

“We’ll figure something out. It’ll be fun, Turlough. We won’t have to sneak around. We can sleep all day and stay up all night doing whatever we please. I want to take you out – show you off.”

“Where?”

“One of those clubs I told you about – for people like us.”

“I don’t know. Won’t people think it’s odd – you being a teacher and me looking, well, like one of your students?”

Granger put his hands on Turlough’s shoulders and pushed him to his knees. “No one asks questions at these places, Turlough. Besides, you’re very mature for your age. I recognized that the first day I saw you in my drawing class. Nobody’s going to care how old you look when they see how beautiful you are all tied up and hard as a rock, loverboy.”

“Don’t call me…”

Granger slapped him hard enough to mark Turlough’s pale cheek, and growled. “I’ll call you what I like. Now get to it.”
***

Turlough jerked awake, sweating and trembling. He felt a hand on his arm and turned to see the Doctor looking at him, brow knit. “N-nightmare,” he mumbled.

“I can see that. You’re safe now.” The Gallifreyan sat up and pulled Turlough into an awkward embrace as they sat side-by-side. “Do you want to talk about it?”

The Trion shook his head. “I should go. Tegan will wake up early and need help getting around.” He frowned when he was not released.

“You’re staying until I know you’re all right,” the Doctor insisted.

Turlough felt trapped, but was unwilling to push the other man away simply for showing concern.

Then, out of the blue, the Doctor said, “I think we should tell Tegan about us.”

Turlough blinked. Did I hear that right? “No,” he replied quickly.

“Turlough, it’s ridiculous to carry on like this right under her nose and expect she won’t notice eventually. The longer we wait, the more angry she’ll be that we kept it from her her.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

</i>Because you’re mine, and l won’t share you. Because I don’t want her to look at me pityingly when it’s over.</i> “I just don’t. No one needs to know what we do.” Unable to articulate his fears, he untangled himself and went to his room.

--

The next day, Turlough came up behind the Doctor while he was reading, and set his hands on the Time Lord’s shoulders. Long fingers dug into the muscle at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, working against knots. He sighed as his companion pressed his thumbs into the deltoid muscles. “You worry too much,” Turlough murmured several minutes later. “I thought that might help.”

He hummed, “Very nice. Thank you.” As the redhead moved to leave, the Doctor caught his wrist. “Talk to me, please. Why don’t you want to tell her about our relationship?”

Turlough’s eye twitched, but he tried to joke. “Is that what it is? I thought it was a mutually beneficial arrangement for the relief of stress.”

The blond looked hurt. “Turlough, that’s not how I view it - what we share.”

Surprised by this admission, and confused, the Trion wavered. “How do you think of it – of me?”

A soft, almost shy, glance was accompanied by the sweetest smile he thought he had ever seen. The Gallifreyan whispered, “Fondly, to say the least. Turlough I think I may be…”

Turlough’s blood froze. No! Don’t say that. It isn’t true. Throwing himself into the other man’s lap, he pressed his lips tightly against the Doctor’s. Kisses stifled speech, and blocked all but the tiniest inhalations. Clutching the Time Lord’s hand in his, Turlough led the way to their room where he insisted his cuffs be put on him before they enjoyed each other’s bodies.

---

In the beginning it was Turlough who sought him out, convincing him that neither of them had to be alone if they didn’t want to be. Now, more often than not, the Doctor was the one seeking – exactly what, he didn’t know.

He knocked and waited for the door to open a crack. His companion squinted until his pupils adjusted to the bright light in the corridor. “May I come in?” the Doctor asked politely.

“Of course.” Turlough stepped aside to allow him entry. “What’s on your mind?”

Hands in his pockets, the Doctor rocked back on his heels. “It seems I was wrong earlier,” he said.

“Oh, about what?”

His fingertips danced across a pale cheek. “I said I wasn’t in the mood. I was mistaken.”

Turlough wrapped his arms around the Doctor’s neck and kissed him warmly.
“Then you came to the right place.”

As they tumbled together onto the too-small bed, he regretted once again not proposing they try this in his room. Of course, now it wouldn’t do to interrupt things. Not with so much wonderful kissing and touching going on. There’s always next…

“Oh my,” he yipped as his trousers were unzipped, and Turlough helped himself to a handful of Time Lord. As he fumbled with his own shirt and jumper, the Doctor noted, with some dismay, that the redhead was managing to wriggle out of his clothing with relative ease despite keeping hands remaining occupied. “Turlough,” he protested while his neck was being licked. “I cannot simultaneously undress, and surrender to your attempts to drive me mad with lust. Pick one.”

Sparkling blue eyes flashed in the dim light, and hands were retracted, allowing him to remove almost all of his clothing. Seconds later, he was pulled down and pressed to the mattress with an equally bare companion splayed across his body possessively. “But...my socks.”

“Leave ‘em on,” Turlough murmured, nipping at the Gallifreyan’s collarbone. “I do most times. Feet get cold.”

Chuckling at the mental picture of Turlough and himself, naked save their striped socks, the Doctor felt what he could only describe as joy. He helps me shut out the rest of the universe. Forget the megolamaniacs and the desperately complicated schemes I must devise to save the universe single-handedly. Just us – me and my wonderful almost-human lover. I’m completely at ease with him. There’s hardly ever an awkward moment when we’re together like this. He laced his fingers behind his head and shuddered as Turlough’s practiced hands sought out his most sensitive areas.

One of those rare moments that could only be called ‘awkward’ occurred a little later. The Doctor looked down and saw that, not only were Turlough’s eyes screwed shut, he was biting his bottom lip harshly, almost to the point of drawing blood. That is not an expression of pleasure. Immediately ceasing all movement, he whispered, “Turlough, is this hurting you?”

Turlough moved his head from one side to the other, and then gasped. “A bit. You don’t have to stop,” he insisted, sounding regretful, but looking some what relieved, as the Doctor moved away until he could assess the situation.

“Nonsense. I’m not going to continue if it’s painful and risk injuring you – especially there.”

Turlough looked embarrassed and nervous. “No, no. That’s not what hurts. It feels good – really. It’s just…look, I can’t be on my back for very long. I get these spasms in my spine, and then I can’t move.” He whimpered as he rolled onto his side and stretched his arms above his head.

I should have noticed sooner. Though it's unusual for him to suffer in silence. “We’ve done this before, haven’t we?”

The redhead snickered. “Yes, Doctor. We’ve had sex – numerous times. Have you forgotten already? That can happen at your age.”

At least he’s not so uncomfortable he’s lost his sense of humor. “I’m not going senile yet. I meant I believe we’ve been in this configuration, er, position before.”

“Yes, but usually we’re so worked up that it doesn’t take very long to, um, get where we’re going, so I haven’t had a problem. Tonight we’re taking our time – which is great. I just didn’t want you to think that I didn’t like what you were doing. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” His began to mumble. “Didn’twantyoutogetangryandleave.”

Silly boy. The Doctor smiled. “If you’re still willing, I’ve no intention of stopping, or leaving, and I am most definitely not angry. Though I wish you’d spoken up. Why don’t you show me how you would be most comfortable for you?”

Turlough grinned and rolled to his other side, pushing his rear end up against the Doctor’s groin. “This okay?” he asked, rotating his hips.

“Fine by me.” Getting a good grip on his lover’s thigh, the Doctor endeavored to keep them both smiling.

---

When Turlough awoke, he was surrounded by darkness. “Where am I?” he asked no one. “I can’t see.” He thrashed wildly, and was overjoyed to find that he was not bound. “Lights,” he barked. The TARDIS obliged, providing enough illumination for Turlough to see that he was in his own room, surrounded by familiar things. It was somewhat reassuring, but the fact remained that he was alone; abandoned. “Master…no, Doctor…where are you?” Driven by fear, he rose from the bed and stumbled into the corridor.
--

The Doctor was on his way back to Turlough’s room when the door opened and the redhead collided with him. He was wearing only pajama bottoms, and the cuffs he insisted on wearing whenever they were intimate. He would look amazingly sexy were he not clearly terrified. “Oof! Turlough, what’s wrong?” The young man fell into his arms, his relief palpable.

“Where did you go? Why did you leave me?”

Regretting having caused his lover distress twice in the same evening, the Doctor put his arm around the frightened young man, and pulled him back into the bedroom. “I went to check on some diagnostics I started this morning,” he explained. “I was only gone for a few minutes.”

Turlough pushed him away, and paced nervously. “You shouldn’t leave,” he said angrily. “You’re supposed to know that. You’re supposed to be better than him.”

He’s agitated, but I can’t tell if he’s fully awake. “Better than who, Turlough?”

Instead of answering the question, Turlough’s tone became accusatory. “How long was I out? Where did you go? What did you do to me?”

When the Doctor tried to approach, Turlough flinched and wrapped his arms around himself, nails digging into his upper arms. The Doctor couldn’t help but glance at the strange mark on his left bicep. Worry about that another time. It’s hardly the issue at hand. “It was only a few minutes, Turlough. I didn’t do anything to you – well, I suppose technically I did, but you did the same to me so all things considered…”

“What did you do to me when I couldn’t see?”

The Doctor spoke calmly while exuding a tiny bit of mental pressure in an effort to bring his companion back to reason. “Turlough, you were asleep. I didn’t do anything apart from cover you with a blanket. I see now that I shouldn’t have left you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Taking a seat on the bed, he motioned for Turlough to join him. After a moment’s hesitation the younger man moved quickly into a seated position behind him, wrapping his arms and legs around the Gallifreyan’s shoulders and waist. Slowly, his lover’s breathing became more even, and his heart stopped pounding violently in his chest. The Doctor ran his hands over thin limbs, giving what comfort he could.

“He left me,” Turlough said in a small voice.

“Who did?”

“My master. He left me alone in the dark for a long time. I needed him, but he wanted too much. I-I have to hide. Don’t you understand? Can’t tell anyone-ever. H-he made me say things - things that weren’t true. He hurt me and left me alone. I couldn’t see. It was so cold, and I couldn’t move.”

The Doctor’s hearts ached. “He shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, Turlough. I shouldn’t have left you either.” The young man seemed satisfied with the apology and uncoiled himself. The Doctor stretched out behind him, stroking his hair. “Go to sleep. I promise I’ll stay.”

Words began to slur together as Turlough drifted off again. “Y-you shouldn’t make someone say…that, and then leave them. It’s not right.”

The Doctor did as he’d promised, and watched Turlough through the night, trying to keep him safe from his nightmares. By morning the Time Lord had made a decision. It’s essential that he tell me all about this human he called ‘master’. I’m going to have to push him a bit, but it’s necessary. And I think we ought to refrain from physical intimacy for a while; take the time to explore other aspects of our relationship.

----

He was being nudged. “Time to get up,” the Doctor said. “Come have breakfast.” Turlough put a pillow over his head and wished fervently to still be asleep, but he knew it was too late. I almost lost it completely last night. I said too much. There’s no way he’ll let it go now. His stomach churned violently. He knew he had cut himself off from the affection of that had come to mean so much to him. Companion and friend, Doctor. You said that was enough. It will have to be. I pray I’m able to salvage that much.

Dressed in his old school uniform, Turlough picked at a fruit he didn’t recognize and waited for the questions to begin.

“Do you remember anything of what you said last night?”

He sniffed and shrugged. “Nonsense, no doubt. I was half-asleep.”

“It was not nonsense,” the Doctor stated emphatically. “You were very upset, and it wasn’t the first time you’d had a nightmare like that since we’ve been together.”

Turlough frowned. How many have there been? Doesn’t matter. It changes nothing. “Well, it will be the last you have to witness,” he said dismissively.

The Gallifreyan flinched. “What do you mean?”

“My hormone levels stabilized a few weeks ago. The transition period is over. You needn’t bother with me any longer.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to be certain. Now I am. It’s been fun, but it is no longer necessary.”

“It was more than…fun.”

Out of sight below the table, Turlough clenched his fists. Forgive me for this. “If you say so. I’m glad you enjoyed it as much as I did. Consider last night thanks for a job well done.”

The Time Lord slammed his hands down on the table. “Do you really think I ever considered it a service – a duty?” he fumed

“It’s of no consequence to me how you viewed it. It’s done.” Turlough sounded brave, but found he couldn’t quite force himself to meet the Doctor’s gaze.

“Tell me about Granger.”

“Who?”

“You know who. Turlough, don’t do this.”

“Do what? Answer your questions with questions? Why not? You do it all the time.”

“Stop it. It’s childish and it does not suit you. I admit, I expected you to be defensive, but this hostility is beyond…”

“Hostile? I thought I was just being myself.”

The Doctor huffed. “The worst possible version of yourself. A tasteless parody of the Turlough I’ve come to know.”

Pushing away from the table, the Trion raised his voice. “Maybe the Turlough you think you know is the fake. Maybe I’m tired of pretending to be him – your obedient lapdog. Your toy.”

The Doctor reached for his hand, and was brushed away. “I have never treated you like a thing, Turlough. You are my companion, my friend, and my lover.”

Turlough grimaced. The word alone cut him to the bone. He rose to his feet and managed not to sway.

Unfortunately the Doctor caught his reaction and seized the chance to go on the offensive. “What? Is that what’s bothering you – my choice of words?”

“You-you think what you want. I can’t stop you.” He started to leave the room.

“You told me once it had never been about love. I think you’re lying.”

Turlough laughed out loud. “Me - lie? Shocking!”

“It was love at least once, wasn’t it; on Earth, with him - your master? What happened, Turlough? Please tell me. You might feel better if…”

“I will never feel better!” Turlough cried. “You’re a fool if you think you can fix that – fix me, with a few soft words and the occasional blowjob.” He pushed the door open and stalked down the hallway.

The Doctor followed him, calling out, “Turlough!”

---

Tegan heard the shouting and stuck her head out of her room in time to see Turlough leave the kitchen, with the Doctor fast on his heels. Catching up the Time Lord touched his male companion on the arm, and the younger man jerked back violently.

“Don’t touch me!” Turlough yelled. “I’ve said all I’m going to say. It’s done.”

Tegan was surprised by the emotion in the Doctor’s voice as he shouted back, “I am not going to watch you do this to yourself.”

“Then look the other way!” Turlough’s face was a mask of rage and pain. He started muttering things in a language Tegan didn’t understand, and was surprised when the TARDIS was not forthcoming with a translation. She decided it must be really foul. It seemed to her that the Doctor did understand, but was not at all pleased by what he was hearing. The Time Lord backed off as Turlough opened the door to his room with so much force he almost tore it off the hinges. His English recovered in time for a parting shot. “Game’s over. Hear that? You lose!”

Quickly Tegan stepped back into her room and shut the door as the Doctor blew past, cursing under his breath and shaking his head angrily.

Fic - Unbound, Chapter 7

Wed, 10 Jan 2007 04:12:11 GMT

Title:Unbound
Categories(?):Smutty goodness, a touch of romance, humor, angst, BDSM
Rating: We're NC-17
Author's Note: Back to the smutty fun!

Unbound, Chapter 7

Over the next few weeks, as his hormone levels approached a comfortable equilibrium, Turlough found he was able enjoy the Doctor’s company once more without constantly undressing the other man in his mind. He struggled with bouts of anxiety, mostly brought on by thinking too much about the nature of his relationship with the Doctor. The Gallifreyan’s attention had come to mean a great deal to Turlough, and he didn’t want to risk losing it by demonstrating any sort of mental instability. He convinced himself the emotional turbulence and occasional night terrors were part of the transition into the second cycle. When the Doctor asked how he was feeling, Turlough would just smile. There’s no need to worry him. I’ll be fine soon.

After a typically harrowing adventure in a small English town, Tegan wanted to spend some time with her grandfather, so the TARDIS was parked for a short holiday. Turlough managed to be sociable for few days, but soon began making excuses to go off on his own. One evening the Doctor caught up with him outside the TARDIS. “We’ve been invited to dinner,” he explained. Turlough began to feel annoyed, until he saw the light in the Doctor’s eyes. The light he suspected shone just for him. “I told them we had plans.” The two men shared knowing smiles. “Where’ve you been?”

Turlough put on his innocent face while clutching a package behind his back. “Oh, around. Hitched a ride to the next town over, slightly larger Hodcombe or something like that.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow, and moved closer to Turlough. “Anything interesting there?”

“Not particularly.” Turlough was secretive by nature, but on this occasion, his reservation seemed to bother the Doctor.

The blond man’s expression darkened. “So the reason you smell like alcohol and sweat is...?”

Turlough grinned sheepishly. “I stopped by the pub. All right, I lied to the kid from the 17th century. I like beer.”

The Time Lord muttered something under his breath and scowled. “You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you, Turlough?” He put his hands on the younger man’s shoulders and backed him up into the TARDIS all the way to the console. He moved his head alongside Turlough’s and inhaled deeply.

“Whoa, Doctor. What’s wrong? Are you smelling me again?”

“The scent of other men clings to you, Turlough,” the Doctor noted. His dark eyes were like burning coals.

“Ummm…” Have to think of a plausible explanation. Hurry. For crying out loud I’ve deflected attention from deliberately sabotaging the TARDIS with less hesitation. This man seriously unnerves me.

At once the Doctor released him, and his arms fell limp at his sides. “We’re done,” he said sharply.

Turlough’s heart dropped. “No!” he protested. “Doctor, let me explain.”

The Doctor turned and stalked down the corridor. “Save the excuses, Turlough. I suppose it was inevitable that you would tire of our arrangement. I had hoped that you would be mature enough to be direct about it. To break the only real rule I had - and to flaunt it like this…”

“Doctor!” Turlough dashed in front of the taller man, walking backward to prevent his retreat. “Stop. It’s not what you think.” The Doctor stopped, if only because he didn’t want to bowl Turlough over. Turlough knew it was going to take more than words to convince the Time Lord he’d gotten it all wrong. He dropped the bag he’d been carrying and took the Doctor’s face in his hands, kissing him with as much passion as he could muster on short notice. When he pulled back to catch his breath, he was pleased to see that the Doctor’s pale brow was a little less furrowed. Renewal of the lip lock seemed to relax the Doctor a bit further, and cautiously he began to return the kiss. Finally, when Turlough felt the Doctor was sufficiently calm, he reached up to tangle his fingers in fine yellow hair. “Now that I have your attention,” he whispered, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of the Doctor’s slightly bruised mouth. Wow. I did that. “Let me explain. I did go somewhere other than the pub. I went shopping.”

“Shopping?”

“Yes.” Turlough bent to retrieve the brown paper bag he’d dropped, offering it as proof of his sincerity.

“Where?”

Turlough bit his lip to keep from snickering at the Doctor’s pouty expression. If I’m half that adorable when I’m sulking no wonder he doesn’t take my foul moods seriously. “Someplace men go to buy things for themselves, and their partners, that they might want to show said partners later…in the privacy of their bedroom.” The Trion rolled his eyes. “It was going to be a surprise.”

Suddenly looking very embarrassed, the Doctor shuffled his feet a bit. “Oh, well, I suppose that would explain the smell. You didn’t…”

“No!” Turlough said emphatically. “I didn’t. I said I wouldn’t.” He tried not to let it show how much the Doctor’s lack of faith hurt, but it must have shone in his eyes, because the Gallifreyan reached out and gathered Turlough into his arms.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I went off like that. I suppose I was looking forward to spending the evening...just the two of us, and when I caught the scent of another I overreacted.”

Turlough tried to brush off the misunderstanding. I guess it’s all right that he cares that much. Why do I care how much he cares? “It’s okay to be a little jealous,” he conceded. “But, you can trust me.”

“I do. Really, I do. I’m very sorry.”

He really does feel bad for suspecting me of infidelity. “Hush. I accept your apology, and, if you behave just a little longer, I’ll show you one thing I bought.”

Putting on his most angelic expression, the Doctor shoved his hands in his pockets and waited patiently to be shown what treasures Turlough had found in a dimly lit shop with dark paper over the windows. Turlough fished a small purple bottle from the bag and waved it in front of the Doctor, who looked slightly dismayed. “I can’t make out the label without my glasses,” he admitted. Turlough simply pushed the bottle closer to his face. Squinting, the Doctor could at least make out the silhouette of two people wrapped around each other in an intimate fashion. “Oh,” he said. Turlough almost saw the light bulb appear above the Doctor’s head. “Oh! I see. What else did you get?”

“Nosy! You’ll see soon enough. Come to my room in, oh, half an hour.” With a definite spring in his step, Turlough left with his bag of tricks.

--

Half-expecting the Doctor to tackle him before he got to the door, Turlough was pleasantly surprised to make it to his room unhindered. Good, I have time to set the scene. He dumped the contents of his shopping bag into the bottom drawer of his nightstand and commenced tidying the room; picking up junk off the floor and throwing it into the wardrobe or shoving it under the bed. Who knew I would be such a slob without a roommate? Privacy is well worth the price of having to pick up after oneself. On Earth I sometimes imagined what it would be like to have a place of my own. I could invite someone over… they’d stay the night- Lord, I’m thinking like a stupid girl. Next thing I’ll be looking for scented candles…which might be useful to cover that sock odor. No! I will not light candles. I will not put on music. This is not romance. It’s sex. Good sex to be sure, but that’s all it is.

He coaxed the TARDIS into circulating some air through the room and dimming the lights while he dashed to the bathroom for a quick shower. Upon his return, Turlough donned a pair of pajamas that he hadn’t worn since his first week on the TARDIS when he still cared how he might look if he ran into Tegan or Nyssa in the corridor at night. He stretched out on the bed and got in a few deep breaths before he heard a knock at the door. “Come in,” he said, trying to sound casual.

The Doctor stuck his head through the door. “Oh, well, if you’re already asleep.” He started to close the door.

“Get in here,” Turlough growled. When he opened his eyes he was amazed to see the Doctor clothed in something other than his usual cricket garb. Instead he wore a sort of woven robe with wide sleeves, and in one hand the Doctor was carrying a canvas bag.

Noting his companion’s reaction, the Doctor explained, “It’s laundry day again.”

“Of course,” Turlough muttered, already trying to figure out how much, if anything, the Doctor was wearing underneath the robe. Despite their varied encounters he had yet to see the Doctor completely uncovered. Maybe tonight’s the night. Clearing his throat, Turlough said, “I feel slightly overdressed.”

“You are. I’d rather you wore nothing.” The Doctor watched his normally unreserved companion begin to disrobe a little more slowly than usual. Turlough was grateful when the Doctor turned away and opened the canvas bag. Removing two hooks attached to what looked to Turlough like suction cups, the Doctor pulled the chair over from Turlough’s desk and stood on it so he could reach the ceiling. He then positioned the hooks approximately half a meter apart from each other.

Magnetic? Turlough wondered. When he seemed satisfied with their locations, the Doctor tapped the base of each. The cups glowed, affixing themselves to the ceiling with a THUNK. Curling his hands around both hooks, the Doctor pulled himself up off the chair, suspending himself for a moment before lowering himself to the ground. My, this is serious.

Glancing in his direction, the Doctor noticed Turlough was still wearing his pajama top. “I believe I said ‘nothing’, Turlough.”

Forcing his hands to remain steady, he pulled the shirt up over his head, twisting slightly to the left, hoping in the half light the Doctor might not notice the brand on his upper arm that seemed to Turlough to be glowing. Of course he’ll notice. He sees everything. Well then, I hope he doesn’t say anything. I doubt he’ll buy that ridiculous story about being burned in a boiler accident as a child. I’m only doing this because it’s him; because he asked me to. Willing himself to avoid touching the raised flesh, Turlough turned his attention to what the Doctor was doing.

The Doctor was pulling two more magnetic cups from the bags. These had circular metal bolts affixed to the bases. Once they were locked onto the floor, he began uncoiling a length of chain. Turlough’s jaw dropped, and his partner chuckled softly. “Here,” he said, tossing the bag to Turlough. “Put those on.”

Reaching into the dark sack, Turlough’s fingers closed around something soft. Bringing the unfamiliar objects into the light for a proper examination, he realized he was holding leather cuffs lined with some type of fur. Much softer than the belts. I guess, the two smaller cuffs are meant for my wrists and the larger for my ankles. Turlough fastened each around the appropriate limb, and was surprised that they made him feel very secure despite his nudity. He admired the contrast of the dark leather against his skin.

“Do you like them?” The Doctor asked, looking at him expectantly.

Turlough hummed contentedly. “Very much. Where’d you get them?”

“You’re not the only one who’s been shopping recently. I got them a while ago. I was just waiting for the right time to give them to you. They’re yours.”

Turlough bent his head forward as he felt his cheeks warming. I wonder if girls feel like this when they get jewelry. “Thank you,” he whispered, examining the chain and interlocking ring set-up the Doctor had created. “Exactly how much trouble am I in?”

“None yet. But it’s early. Please come here.”

There were times, when the Doctor spoke to him in that tone that Turlough worried he was being compelled. But deep down he knew the desire to obey came from within him, which satisfying somehow. He allowed each of his arms to be lifted in turn, watching as the heavy metal rings on the outside of the cuffs were attached to the lengths of chain hanging from the hooks in the ceiling. The near fulfillment of his first fantasies regarding the Doctor made Turlough almost giddy.

Turlough felt fingers tapping firmly against his shins, prompting him to stand with his feet hip width apart. Turlough’s ankles were then secured as well, his stomach doing cartwheels all the while. Catching him by surprise, the Doctor wrapped his arms around the Trion’s waist and embraced him from behind. Feeling the Gallifreyan’s cool body against his own was instantly calming. How does he do that? Is he doing anything at all? Probably just my imagination. I know I never felt like that with Granger; not even before he… Turlough shook his head lightly, trying to dislodge the unpleasant memory. It was a long time ago. It’s over and done. Why can’t I let it go?

Once more, his partner’s touch brought him some peace. Brushing his forehead against the younger man’s neck and shoulders, the Doctor asked, “You remember your word?”

“Yes, Sir,” Turlough murmured. “Brendon.”

The Doctor briefly pressed his lips against the back of Turlough’s head, then commanded, “Close your eyes and keep them closed.”

As he complied, he heard the Doctor move away from him. The bedroom door was opened and closed again. Turlough was indignant. Not again. Why does he do that? He counted the passing seconds, tapping out familiar rhythms with his bare feet on the cold floor. Five minutes passed and he was irritated. I hate it when he makes me wait! After ten minutes he was downright angry. He was naked, bound, and longing to be touched. Worry set in around fifteen minutes. What if he forgot about me? What if something happens to him and no one knows I’m here? Suddenly fearful, Turlough’s eyes snapped open. He opened his mouth to call for the Doctor, when he was startled by a presence in the shadows. “Gah!” he yelled as the man stepped forward. “What the hell? You scared the…” Turlough realized his mistake. “You never left the room, did you?”

“Tsk. Of course not. Leaving a bound person unattended is not acceptable. Even when you were in the cloister I had the TARDIS keep an eye on you. Then, as now, I wanted to test your patience.” The Gallifreyan sighed. “You were so close. It’s a shame, but I’m afraid close isn’t good enough. Now you’ve lost the right to see what’s coming.”

Sputtering, Turlough protested. “Oh come on. Give me another chance. I swear I can do it.”

The Doctor lips were pressed together in a thin smile as he removed the sash from his robe and stretched it out in front of Turlough’s face. He shuddered. “Please don’t,” he whispered. The Doctor remained perfectly still; his expression unchanging. Turlough knew he was waiting for the word, the only word that would keep him from putting on the blindfold. I’m frightened. But I shouldn’t be. I know the Doctor isn’t anything like Mr. Granger. He would never really hurt me. He couldn’t. Turlough closed his eyes, and gave a slight node, accepting the blindfold. I can do this. I can stay calm. This is my room, and he’s the Doctor. I’m safe with him. There is no reason to panic.

The Doctor adopted a pleasant conversational tone, as if they were having a civilized discussion of art or music. “Now then, where did you put your recent purchases?”

“Night stand. Bottom drawer,” Turlough spat, letting his displeasure show.

“Don’t sulk, Turlough. I know you were eager to show them to me, but now you get to help me identify them by touch.”

Turlough hummed thoughtfully. That might be fun. He heard the Doctor rummaging through the drawer, removing items, and tossing them on the bed, making comments as he did so.

“Lubricant…saw that already. Some sort of latex phallus…very detailed. Pornographic magazines…from Earth, from Alpha Centauri. Goodness, I don’t even recognize this species, and…no, that can’t be real. Turlough stifled a giggle at the Doctor’s detached manner as he rifled through his companion’s treasure trove of smut. When a smooth buzzing object was pressed to his side, the Trion squirmed. It tickled like mad. “Ah!” he exclaimed, trying to twist away, but of course he couldn’t go very far.

“This is all very interesting, Turlough. It occurs to me that you couldn’t possibly have purchased all these items today. The bag wasn’t large enough. Have you been…gathering supplies wherever we go?”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Turlough confirmed the Doctor’s suspicions. “Yup. I’m a well-traveled pervert.”

“You’re not a pervert,” the Doctor murmured as he continued his excavation of the drawer. “Hmm, I have a vague notion of what this is for, but I’ll ask you to show me later so I can be sure. Why would anyone need this to glow in the dark? Come now, Turlough, there is no way you can fit this…or can you? Oh, I see. I was holding it sideways.”

Unable to contain himself any longer, the redhead began to laugh, and once he started he couldn’t stop. Picturing his sweet Doctor surrounded by sex toys and pornography was just too funny. “I’m glad you find this amusing,” the Doctor said, sounding irritable. “Now I feel no guilt at all about doing this.” Turlough yelped as his nipples were grasped between strong fingers and twisted mercilessly. The pain that wasn’t really pain had the predictable result of making him instantly hard. Then it was the Doctor’s turn to chuckle. “That’s better. Try to be serious for just a bit longer. Why did you go out today to buy more…things, if you already had a drawer full?”

Turlough struggled to think as blood flow was divided between higher functions and base needs. “Mostly I needed the lube – hate to run out of that at the wrong time - and you know how it is. You go to the shop for one thing and before you know it you’ve bought…”

“An inflatable sheep?”

“Exactly, er, maybe.”

“Really Turlough, there’s an inflatable sheep in here. I’m afraid to ask what you planned to do with the poor plastic creature.”

Turlough remembered. “Oh that. That’s strictly for amusement purposes. I thought I might put it in Tegan’s closet, or maybe leave it in the bathroom after I’d showered with my tie draped around its neck. The possibilities are endless.”

He swore he could hear eyes rolling. “Such an active mind, and you use it to devise ways of tormenting your friends.”

“You have to admit, the look on her face would be priceless.”

“No…maybe, No, no. Let’s get back to the matter at hand. Do you really need all this?”

Turlough tried to shrug, but with his arms mostly above his head it was a pointless gesture. “Not lately. But before you and I started…well, you know, I was more than a little frustrated. And I like variety.”

“I see.”

The Trion grinned. “You know, I didn’t buy all of them. Some I just found in my room.”

“You found rubber goods lying about the TARDIS and went ahead and got intimate with them?”

“Not lying around – just in my room. I assumed they were from the TARDIS. She’s amazingly intuitive. I didn’t want to be rude and reject her gifts. Besides, I got a charge out of imagining she, and maybe you, were watching.”

“You know, I’m going to have to agree with your earlier self-assessment. You are a pervert.”

“Mmm, thanks. You’re not half bad yourself.”

The Doctor chuckled in a manner that reminded his companion of a more evil Time Lord. “Oh, Turlough. It’s time I showed you exactly how bad I can be.”

--

Some indeterminable amount of time later, with the vibrating egg nestled under his scrotum, buzzing ever so lightly, Turlough no longer cared how bad or good the Doctor might be. As long as he keeps touching me. Still blindfolded, Turlough found it maddening that he couldn’t see the Doctor’s tongue moving lazily over his chest and stomach. Every so often, the Doctor would lay a stinging slap across Turlough’s buttocks. Pleasure and pain flowed together, completing a circuit that electrified his body and mind.

Keenly aware of a host of sensations, Turlough felt like every part of him was talking at once, each demanding immediate attention. Of course one part in particular cried the loudest, and that was the part his partner was carefully avoiding. Rarely had he been so aroused that he felt dampness between his legs. His face burned. If I was female there'd be a puddle.

The Doctor removed the egg, taking the time to fondle and squeeze Turlough’s testicles in wonderfully lewd fashion. The blindfold was removed, and Turlough blinked rapidly as his irises adjusted to the light. A bright pink tube was shoved in front of his face.

“What do you do with this?” the Doctor demanded to know. “Tell me quickly.”

“I-uh-put it between pillows and thrust into it,” Turlough answered honestly.

“Hmm, maybe later. What about this?”

Confronted with a reasonably life-like representation of the male genitalia, Turlough responded, “I like to put it in my mouth.” He thought he heard the Doctor purr.

The Doctor came around to face Turlough. His eyes are so bright, and his skin is as flushed as mine feels. Do I turn him on that much? He grasped Turlough’s chin with his fingers. “Open,” he said, tugging gently. “Show me how much you can take in.”

Turlough obeyed, allowing the Doctor to feed him the dildo inch by inch. It differed significantly from the actual act of fellatio, but it was thrilling all the same. “Hold it,” the Doctor ordered, and he let go. He stepped back, admiring the sight of his companion with his lips stretched round a fake cock, drooling over the hard plastic.

Behind him Turlough heard packages being ripped open, and knew the Doctor had selected one of his recent purchases. Another sound, this time the snap of a plastic cap. Turlough shivered expectantly. He did not have to wait long before feeling slicked fingers moving in the cleft between his buttocks. “Relax,” the Doctor instructed. He placed his left hand on a hip,, while the fingers on his right brushed against the opening to Turlough’s most intimate place. Breath quickened as the Doctor rubbed in tight circles for a few seconds before pressing a fingertip into the depression. He groaned, gripping the object in his mouth with his teeth so he wouldn’t drop it. Good thing this isn’t real.

Slowly, and with great care, more lubricant was worked past the tight ring of muscle guarding the passage. Then, gentle fingers were replaced by sturdy tapered latex. “Uhhhhh,” Turlough vocalized when the plug was twisted until it fit neatly into place. Keeping one hand on the base of that toy, the Doctor brought the other up to grasp the one in Turlough’s mouth, letting him relax his jaw for a bit.

“Remain still.” The Doctor began to withdraw the dildo from Turlough’s mouth, while he pushed the plug in deeper. Then the motions were reversed. Turlough felt like a receptacle for two different entities. As he fought the need to rock back onto the intruder his hips began to tremble. As he leaned his head back to relieve some of the tension in his neck, Turlough was possessed by a singular desire – to have the Doctor screw him senseless.

He tried to make eye contact with his tormentor, to plead for mercy. The vision before him: heavy-lidded eyes, perspiration darkened golden hair, the intense focused expression only confirmed what Turlough knew with complete clarity. I need him. I need him now. Abruptly, the Doctor moved away and he was left empty momentarily while the Time Lord lifted his robe up over his head and tossed it aside. “Please,” Turlough eked out, noting with slight disappointment that the Doctor’s lower body was still covered by a pair of dark blue shorts. The Trion’s eyes were drawn to the outline of the Doctor’s arousal, visible through the fabric. “Please,” Turlough repeated, even as he was filled again, this time with a larger object.

“Please what?” The Gallifreyan pressed his body flush against Turlough’s trembling frame, splaying his fingers across the younger man’s back while twisting the toy Turlough was very glad he’d bought on impulse. Cool puffs of breath escaped his slightly open mouth. “I’m wondering if you can orgasm from this alone, without me even touching your genitals.”

Turlough felt helpless. “No, I need…” he croaked when he was able to force sound from his throat. The Doctor ran his fingertips across Turlough’s lips as if he could draw out the words. “I need you,” the younger man confessed. His eyes felt wet and he wasn’t sure if it was from the sweat dripping off his bangs or the beginnings of tears. Something inside him threatened to break. “I need you in me.”

Strangely, the Doctor reacted as if Turlough’s statement caused him pain. He shook his head once. “N-No,” he murmured hoarsely.

Turlough’s mind was ablaze. I know he can feel how badly I need him to do this. “Doctor, please,” he begged feverishly. “Take me.”

Eyes shut tightly as if blocking something out, the Doctor refused once more. “Turlough, no, I can’t…”

“Goddammit, don’t make me beg any more! I’m so fucking ready.” The pricking sensation at the back of his mind was becoming unbearable. Turlough seized on it and pushed back against it instinctively.

A strangled cry burbled in the Doctor’s throat. Cursing in a foreign tongue, he moved swiftly behind Turlough. The Trion’s neck was bitten savagely as the Doctor rubbed frantically against his backside. Fumbling with the clasps and rings, he managed to free first Turlough’s hands, and then his feet.

Swaying until he got his bearings, Turlough watched as the Doctor tore the duvet off the bed, scattering toys and magazines all over the floor. Paying the clutter no mind, he pivoted, grabbed Turlough by the arms, and threw the redhead onto the mattress. Some tiny part of Turlough’s brain registered that he had never known a greater joy than being pinned beneath a writhing, panting, lust-crazed Time Lord, but that part was quickly silenced as coherent thought was burned black by desire. Gasping for air after a bruising kiss, the Doctor seemed to recover his senses long enough to ask, “This is what you want?”

Turlough said yes in English, repeated it in Trion, and proceeded to claw at the Doctor’s remaining garment until he ripped it off the body that he yearned to have inside him. The speech center of Turlough’s brain shut down briefly while all sensors registered Doctor-Naked-Oh My God. As if in slow motion, he saw the Gallifreyan apply a liberal amount of lubricant to his cock while lifting Turlough’s hips and draping his legs over his shoulders. The first forceful thrust made him cry out; his hips bucking and muscles clenching reflexively.

Shortly, Turlough didn’t think he cared to do anything other than this ever again. Unable to decide whether he was more likely to be driven mad by the long strokes or the hard, fast bouncing together of their bodies, he surrendered to the pressure growing in his belly. It pushed up and out of him, dragging hoarse shouts of triumph from his chest. The vibration of the body joined to his signaled the Doctor’s own climax. Together the two men spasmed and then struggled to breathe again.

When Turlough finally came to his senses, someone was wiping down the backs of his thighs with a cool washcloth. He felt fingers pulling at the cuffs on his ankles, and curled into a protective ball. “Mine,” he whined.

“Well then, I suppose I don’t need to ask if you’re awake. Are you hungry?”

Turlough sniffed. “Always. What a silly question. Might as well ask if I’m horny too.”

“Still? Well, I definitely, need fuel before that fire is rekindled. Come on then, I feel like cooking.” Turlough stood, yawning and stretching as he watched the Doctor pull on the robe he’d discarded. When moved to leave the room, stopped him. He cleared his throat and looked pointedly at Turlough’s still nude form.

“What? She’s not around and I’m not ashamed of my body.”

The Doctor shrugged. “Fine, but if you spill something hot in your lap, don’t expect sympathy.”

Turlough grumbled, and retrieved a pair of boxer shorts that had been wedged halfway under his mattress and slipped them on. “There, now I’m semi-decent. Feed me before I’m forced to gnaw off a limb for sustenance.”

---

Midway through a surprisingly edible dinner Turlough realized the Doctor was looking at him oddly. Instantly the Trion’s insides were in a knot. Have I done something wrong? Was I too weak - too alien?

He accepted the mug of tea the Doctor offered, staring into the swirling liquid; waiting.

The Doctor cleared his throat. “We should probably talk about…what just happened,” he said at last.

“Okay.” Turlough knew he sounded like a wounded child, but was simply unable to draw himself up. Déjà vu, he thought.

The Doctor looked at the ceiling as if he hoped to find the appropriate words written there. “That was…”

“Fantastic,” Turlough blurted out, then clamped his mouth shut.

The Doctor seemed surprised by the positive response. “Really? Because I thought…I thought perhaps I went too far.”

Turlough caught the touch of concern in his voice. “No, no, you didn’t. You took me where I wanted to go. Well, someplace I wanted to go, else I’d have said the word.”

“And I would have stopped immediately,” the Doctor promised. “It’s just that at the end things got a bit…”

“Frantic?”

“Yes. We hadn’t really discussed….”

Turlough sipped his tea, quite bemused by the Time Lord’s sudden reluctance to speak plainly. Shoe’s on the other foot now, isn’t it, Doctor? He said calmly, “Doctor, you saw everything in the drawer. At least half those things were made specifically to go where you went.”

A touch of pink colored normally beige cheeks. “Yes, I’m aware of that. I made use of a few of them. What I meant is that I didn’t know you wanted me to do that…be there…you know, this really is terribly difficult to discuss euphemistically.”

They both chuckled. “Yes, it is,” Turlough agreed. “You didn’t know I wanted you to penetrate me? Well, now you do…and you did. I’m glad you did.” Another pause was facilitated by the apparent need to drink the tea while it was still hot. “Erm, did you not like it?” He tried sound as if he had nothing invested emotionally.

Sipping from his own mug, the Doctor’s brow furrowed. “I did,” he said quietly. “I should think that was obvious. I suppose I didn’t realize how much I wanted to until you asked, and then you were all tied up.”

“Doctor, I thought that was the whole point of the game; for you to enjoy my body whilst I can do nothing to stop you…” His voice indicated false protest, but the Doctor was very serious.

“I would never force you,” he said coldly. “Not to do that, nor anything else.”

“I-I know that. And how could it be force if I’m asking you to do it?”

The Doctor shook his head. “It’s complicated. You affect me rather strongly, and I should have anticipated - exercised more control over my own desires. At the point you said you wanted me, it was difficult to distinguish whether it was what you wanted, or if I wanted you to want it. If I had misinterpreted the slightest action…” The Doctor’s hands were almost shaking and he hid them under the table. “I couldn’t bear hurting you,” he whispered. “It would be too awful. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No. No harm done,” Turlough reassured him. “Honestly, I’m fine. More than fine, actually. Don’t you know how amazing you make me feel? I never felt so good.” Okay, that’s almost going too far. Best change the subject quickly. A wicked idea popped into Turlough’s head. “You know, I’m feeling so good I think I’d like to take a walk outside. It’s a warm night, and I’m certain everyone in this little burg goes to bed at a respectable hour.”

The Doctor looked suspicious again. “What are you suggesting?”

Turlough walked to the control room, leading the Doctor by the hand. “The TARDIS is parked on the edge of town, and there’s a grove of trees less than one hundred meters away.”

“Why does this sound like a set-up for something I’m going to regret participating in?”

“Live a little, Doctor.” Turlough pulled up the lever that controlled the door. His partner stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Turlough! You can’t go out dressed like that.”

Looking down at his boxers, Turlough shrugged. “You’re right.” He slid them down over his hips and let them fall to the floor. “That’s better. Running naked through the woods is properly done naked.”

“Why the woods? And why will we be running?” the Doctor was very confused.

Turlough flashed a toothy smile. “I imagine you’ll want to catch me before I make it to the other side of the trees and head toward town,” he explained carefully. “If I got picked up by the constable, I might have to tell him how I escaped from a very bad man who tied me up and did terrible things to me.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I might,” Turlough warned, and then dashed out the door.

The Doctor grumbled, “Evil little…” and ran after him.

Unbound - Chapters Six

Tue, 09 Jan 2007 02:21:08 GMT

Title:Unbound
Categories(?):Smutty goodness, a touch of romance, humor, angst, BDSM
Rating: We're in NC-17 territory, kids, and there ain't no turnin' back
Author's Note: I had a hard time deciding whether to keep these two sections together or split them up. It turns out I can do both. They cover the progression of the relationship. Together, it seemed too long, and, I wanted to switch from Turlough's POV to the Doctor's at a particular point. So I hope you can forgive a bit of editorial indecision on my part.

Oh, one more thing. It may not be exactly proper, but I've capitalized "Sir" whenever Turlough uses it to address the Doctor. It's an indication of his deference to the Doctor, and it just seems right to me.

Unbound- Chapter 6, Part A

On the whole, Turlough thought he was doing an excellent job of acting as if nothing strange, unusual, and wonderful was going on around the TARDIS after dark. However, it was impossible to completely conceal his general good humor. I’m no longer trapped at that wretched school on that primitive dirt clod of a planet. I’m adventuring through time and space with real friends – Fine, I admit it. She’s my friend. I’m entering my second cycle – about damn time - and recent recreational opportunities are definitely easing the transition. Who wouldn’t be enjoying this?

Still, when Tegan commented on how he’d been almost cheerful lately, Turlough promised to set aside some time later that month to be sullen and unpleasant so she wouldn’t forget what he was really like.

Truthfully, as much as Turlough had hoped the Doctor would agree to play the dominant role in bringing his private fantasies to life, he hadn’t expected the Gallifreyan to be quite so enthusiastic. Following the explanation of the rules of the game, Turlough hadn’t had a dull evening. First, he’d been hogtied and quizzed on The Illiad. Thankfully, he’d read some of the story whilst trying to turn the Doctor’s adorable blond head. The next day, Turlough assisted with routine TARDIS, which took forever with his arms strapped to his sides. When laundry day arrived, Turlough found himself handcuffed to the ironing board. Fortunately for him, the Doctor hadn’t noticed the tiny scorch mark on the interior of his beloved tan jacket.

Thus far the Gallifreyan had been true to his word. He did not expect Turlough to obey his every command. Rather, the normally infuriatingly mild man made requests, speaking in that authoritative tone that not only made Turlough want to comply, but turned him on immensely. The Doctor, it seemed, was full of surprises. One morning Turlough brushed past his friend in the kitchen, and gave the taller man a little nudge with his hip. Before he could follow up this nearly harmless gesture with a simple ‘good morning’, Turlough found his hands pinned firmly behind his back and his body bent backward over the counter top. Stunned by the demonstration of strength, he made only a token effort to break free as cool lips were pressed against his own.

Turning his head to allow their mouths to mesh together more easily,
Turlough closed his eyes and savored what was a simple, but for him, rare treat. In Turlough’s experience, the few humans who had bothered to kiss him were awful at it. He endured their sloppy oral fumbling as the price of admission to greater delights. I can’t even remember what kissing another Trion was like. It might have been as nice as this.

Pushing that bit of nostalgia aside, Turlough focused instead on the pleasant smoothness of the Doctor’s tongue moving across his own. Not for the first time, with the Time Lord touching him so intimately, Turlough felt a delightful warmth growing in the center of his body. It made him light-headed, and it occurred to him that perhaps it was that essentially good feeling he craved most of all. It was a curious sensation; reaching deeper, and lasting longer, than any transient physical pleasure. It’s been so long since I was touched with any tenderness. It’s almost like he’s touching the real me – like…No, not like that at all. There is no comparison to be made between him and the Doctor. The Doctor is better.

Turlough’s momentary fear translated into a stiffening of his body, prompting the Doctor to pull back. He cocked his head to one side, looking at Turlough with a puzzled expression. “What’s the matter? You don’t like kissing?”

Turlough chuckled as he hastened to shut down the past’s rude intrusion. “I like it,” he confessed. “I like it a lot…with you.”

That seemed to placate the Doctor. “Good. I intend to do it every so often – whenever I like actually.” The blond grinned widely as if he just remembered he was the one in charge.

The danger of losing himself in something as mundane as kissing made Turlough tremendously uneasy. He decided put on the brakes. “Fine by me, but, um, we should probably stop now. Tegan will be up soon, and I don’t know if she would be more upset by us snogging, or by us standing between her and the coffee.”

The Doctor released Turlough’s arms and sighed wistfully. “Yes, I suppose it would be a bit much for her first thing in the morning.” As they stepped back from each other and made sure they were presentable, Turlough thought he saw a touch of regret in the Doctor’s eyes. I’m probably imagining things.

---

While Turlough couldn’t honestly say he had complaints about how the Doctor was conducting the game, there were times when he found doing what was asked of him a bit difficult.

Showering off a liberal amount of what was literally alien slime, Turlough decided that privacy in the bathroom ranked among the top ten best things about life on the TARDIS. Definitely worth the putting up with Tegan’s collection of gels, scrubs, and porous blobs that once lived happily under the sea. Turlough knew better than to leave his toiletries lying around where anyone could sabotage them. Tegan had agreed to a truce after the tinted conditioner incident, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

The Trion took care to wash himself in as cursory a manner possible, having been instructed by the Doctor to avoid that particular personal indulgence. Unfortunately, parts of Turlough had become accustomed to some attention at bathtime. Ruefully, he apologized to himself. Sorry…can’t. Everything was fine until he started shaving, and then things started to slide out of his control. The light spray glancing off his chest onto newly bared skin was tantalizing, and though he quickly spun around, the damage was done. Turlough began to rationalize a deviation from his original plan to get in and out of the shower quickly. The water feels fantastic. Really, it’s the water’s fault I’m turned on. It’s not really satisfying myself if the water does all the work. It was flimsy, but once he’d made a decision, Turlough preferred not to re-examine it. Placing his hands against the back of the shower stall, he arched his back. Right there, just like that for a while longer…

“Turlough!”

He flailed and grasped the shower curtain to keep his feet from sliding out from under him. Heart pounding in his chest, he peered into the bathroom, only to realize that the person bellowing his name was still outside. “Tegan,” he hissed.

From the corridor, Tegan called out, “Turlough, hurry it up. You’ve been in there for ages.”

Grumbling, Turlough turned off the water, threw on a t-shirt, and wrapped his lower half in a towel. He tore open the door and glared at his female companion.

As Tegan’s mouth was already open, she got to speak first. “About time! What could possibly take you so long?”

Turlough raised one eyebrow. “I was shaving,” he explained.

Tegan snorted. “That should take you less than a minute.”

“Not my face,” he said bluntly, then stuck out his tongue and pushed past, leaving her rooted to the spot with her mouth hanging open. That ought to give her something to think about while she exfoliates. He stalked down the corridor, and had just reached his room, when Turlough felt the air move behind him. Damn, he’s sneaky.

“Enjoy the shower?”

He turned around to face the Time Lord, and tried not to look half as guilty as he felt. “Yes?” Kicking himself mentally for making his response sound like a question, Turlough tried to decipher the Doctor’s expression. Not exactly angry, but nearly. Oh yeah. I’m in trouble.

“You were in there for some time. Temptation get the better of you?”

Damn damn damn. Turlough could feel water beading on the back of his neck, and hoped the Doctor would interpret the redness of his skin to being flushed after a hot shower. I shouldn’t lie, but if I admit it...

“Well?” The Doctor was leaning over him now, and had adopted the tone of a scolding teacher.

Turlough’s eyes darted to the side. “I didn’t exactly…the water felt really nice…” he stammered. “I stopped,” he offered lamely.

One blond eyebrow arched. “So you were only disobeying me a little bit, then?”

“Um, sort of. I didn’t mean to…” Hell! Try to maintain some dignity. Turlough forced himself look the other man in the eye. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “You’re right. I was doing…that.”

The Doctor nodded. “I know. Your libido weaves a trail from here to the cloister. You’re lucky humans aren’t more psychically sensitive, else we’d have a much bigger problem.” He walked by and motioned for Turlough to follow.

Turlough glanced in the direction of the bathroom. “Now?” he asked. “But she’s…”

“She takes longer in there than you,” the Doctor pointed out.

“True,” Turlough admitted, following the Doctor to the library, which was quickly becoming Turlough’s favorite room in the whole of the TARDIS.

--

Turlough knelt on the seat of a large leather chair facing backward. First, the Doctor wrapped two pieces of softened nylon rope around Turlough’s ankles and secured them to the chair legs. Next, Turlough’s hands were bound in front of him. Finally, his arms were stretched out over the back of the chair and the rope anchored to an eyebolt that had been recently drilled into the side of a bookcase. He tried, in vain, to stay still enough that he might not lose his towel, but damp skin slid on leather and it fell to the floor.

If the Doctor cared that Turlough was now nude from the waist down, he didn’t comment. Instead he drummed his fingers against the back of Turlough’s head and made soft clucking sounds. “What am I going to with you?”

“I don’t know,” Turlough groaned. “I hate rhetorical questions, and I don’t like having to decide which form of punishment I hate less. Just do it.” The Doctor obliged by bringing his palm firmly in contact with Turlough’s left buttock. The Trion jumped. It wasn’t an especially heavy blow, but the moisture on his skin seemed to enhance the sting. A second later, his right buttock was treated to an upward sweeping slap. Oh good, at least I’ll match. “Do you want me to count?” Turlough asked through clenched teeth.

The Time Lord grasped his companion by the hair and yanked Turlough’s head back. “I want you to be quiet,” he said sharply. “I’m disappointed by your lack of self control and I haven’t decided how much you deserve.”

Turlough shivered. Open ended punishment is never good.

Very shortly, Turlough was receiving a spanking so thorough it would have made his governess blush. His shoulders and thighs ached with the strain of keeping him upright. He was also frustrated by the fact that he was obviously aroused, but the Doctor had yet to make mention of it. Perhaps it’s an oversight. “You know,” he said, looking over his shoulder at the Doctor and shaking his hips shamelessly. “I could use a little help me with what made me disobey in the first place.”

The Doctor snorted. “I think not,” he replied, digging his nails into the younger man’s thighs. “You’re being punished, Turlough. Please try to act like it.”

Turlough thought he detected a hint of amusement in his friend’s voice and knew exactly what to say. “I know,” he agreed with a sigh of resignation. “I deserve it. I really am a bad boy.”

The spanking resumed, and, to Turlough’s delight, the proceedings were spiced up by a little verbal abuse. Between resounding slaps on the backside, the Doctor informed Turlough that he was an awfully bad boy, possibly the naughtiest boy the Doctor had ever met, and Turlough had a hell of a lot of nerve messing about with his TARDIS. “I mean, it’s one thing to try to kill me. You’ve apologized – and I’ve completely forgiven you - but you damaged my ship!”

“I’m sorry!” Turlough cried, worried that he might have to use his safe word very soon if he wanted to be able to sit the rest of the day. Then, abruptly, he was being untied. The Doctor helped him up off the chair and wrapped his arms around Turlough’s waist. Fingers danced across hot angry skin, eliciting a whimper of discomfort.

“I think I’ve made my point,” the Doctor said calmly. “If you feel you need some attention, ask for it. The next time you disobey me I will not be so kind.”

Turlough nodded emphatically. “Yes, Sir. I understand, Sir.”

Turlough tried to catch his breath while he retrieved his towel. His legs turned to jelly as the Doctor reached out to grab ahold of Turlough’s persistent erection. “Behave yourself the rest of the day and we’ll see what we can do about this, all right?”

“Thank you, Sir,” he squeaked, wondering if the silk boxers Tegan found in the wardrobe room might make wearing trousers bearable.

---

Renewing his vow to show he did appreciate all the Gallifreyan had done for him, Turlough decided that there were some repairs on the Doctor’s ‘To Do’ list that had been neglected for far too long. He waited until his traveling companions were off at some cultural event they’d both been keen to see, and Turlough had just known would bore him to tears. After swapping his typical uniform for something more suited to crawling under the TARDIS’s floor panels, Turlough got his hands dirty. Hours later, he was under the console, reprogramming a subroutine that was so simple Turlough was shocked the Doctor hadn’t realized how much easier it would make things. Going to have to give him a hard time about it when he gets back. Then again… Turlough’s rear end tingled. I could just forget to mention this one.

When the TARDIS’s doors opened - very smoothly – the familar clacking sound of Tegan’s high heels, followed by the squeak of softer-soled shoes, signalled his friends’ return. Two sets of feet came to a sudden stop before the console. “Shh, Tegan, did you hear that?” the Doctor asked, sounding worried.

“Hear what?” Tegan depressed the door switch. A soft whirring sound preceded the light ‘whoosh’ that indicated the TARDIS was closed up and properly sealed.

“That.”

“Oh yeah, the doors didn’t make that wheezy sound - like Turlough trying to go uphill.” Tegan giggled.

“I’m right here,” the Trion snapped, sliding out from under the console.

Tegan yelped and jumped backward. Immediately her hands went to her hips and she scowled. “Geez, Turlough, you scared me.”

He smirked. “Really, and I thought you screeched like a harpy because…”

The Doctor interrupted, stepping forward while shaking his finger at his male companion. “Did you do that - fix the door?”

Turlough wondered if the Time Lord was surprised or upset. “Yes,” he replied cautiously. “And a few other things.”

“Really? Such as?” Both the Doctor and Tegan looked at him with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. Turlough realized he looked a mess. His coverall was splattered with grease, foam, and what he suspected was gear lubricant, but actually tasted vaguely like maple syrup. “What else did you do?”

Turlough went through the list, finishing with, “…and insulated the exposed wiring in Tegan’s room that was shocking her every time she used her hairdryer.”

Tegan gaped at the Doctor. “I told you there was something wrong!” she exclaimed. “You said it was just static discharge. Ha!” Softening her tone, she turned toward the readhead and smiled sweetly. “Thanks, Turlough. I think it’s my turn to make dinner. You like spaghetti, right?”

He nodded and smiled as Tegan left the room. At least I’ve made one person happy. Turning his attention back to the one whose opinion mattered just a bit more, Turlough asked tentatively, “Are you angry with me? I didn’t touch any of the main systems: dematerialization, vortex stability, temporal flux…” His voice trailed off as he glimpsed the sparkle in the Doctor’s eye. Oh, he’s pleased. Very pleased.

The Doctor put his arm around the Trion’s shoulders. “I’d say you’ve atoned for injuring the old girl. She’s practically purring. Now, how are you at building things?” Together they strolled down the corridor to a room Turlough hadn’t noticed before. The Doctor pushed open the door, and stepped inside, pulling Turlough in behind him. At first glance it was an ordinary, though sparsely decorated, room. Then he noticed the bed. It was sturdy looking four-poster, and it had leather straps attached to each post. A shiver of excitement raced up his spine. It’s a playroom!

The Doctor gestured toward a pile of metal and wood in the corner. “I think it’s fitting that you should assemble that.”

Turlough opened the toolbox and began studying the diagrams he found inside. “What is it?”

“You’ll see. I’m timing you starting…now. Don’t forget to clean up before dinner.”

Once the Doctor left, Turlough did his best to bolt together lightweight metal slats and upholstered panels to assemble what he’d heard called a St. Francis’ cross. The X-shaped frame differed from the heavy wooden models advertised in specialty furniture catalogues in that it could be inverted.Wonder what he has planned for this?

Turlough didn’t have to wait long. Impressed by Turlough’s efficiency, the Doctor decided his reward would be melting only half as many ice cubes as the Gallifreyan had originally planned. The contrast between the frozen blocks, used to bring his nipples to bright pink peaks, and the warm mouth soothing them, was delicious. Turlough began mumbling nonsense to himself to break the eerie silence. “Too quiet for you?” the Doctor wondered aloud, and quickly spun the younger man upside down, dumping the remaining ice cubes over his exposed groin. He yelped and writhed helplessly. “Honestly, Turlough. Anyone would think you didn’t like this.”

Hoping to heat things up again, Turlough craned his neck and managed to bump his nose against the front of his captor’s trousers. “Is there something you want?” the Doctor asked sweetly, taking a step forward.

With blood rushing to his head, all Turlough could manage was a “Nuh” sound as he mouthed the outline of the Doctor’s erection. “I suppose that’s a clear enough expression of your intentions,” the Doctor decided. He unzipped and gave Turlough something to keep occupy his attention.

A short time later, the Trion was returned to his full, upright position and released. He made his way, on shaky limbs, to the bed, and then collapsed, dragging the blond down with him. “You, you didn’t let me finish you,” he complained.

“Of course not,” the Doctor said gently. “You were upside down for some time, and I couldn’t see your face very well to check that you were all right. I can’t have you passing out or choking to death on my anatomy.”

“Aw c’mon, you’re not that big,” Turlough teased.

The Doctor growled in response. “Not what I meant, and you know it. But since you’ve recovered, you can finish the job. Lie back. I’m going to use your mouth rather vigorously.” Hearing the Doctor talk like that always made Turlough’s groin throb. I’d better be allowed to do something about that. Otherwise I will throw a fit of epic proportions.As promised, Turlough’s mouth was thoroughly used. This time he didn’t make any jokes about the Gallifreyan’s attributes.

Unbound - Chapter 6, Part B

One evening in their room the Doctor was mixing several bright water-based colors on a tray. “Not to imply that you don’t know what you’re doing, but aren’t you going to need paper or canvas for that?” Turlough asked.

The Time Lord smiled gently. “You misheard me, Turlough. Portraiture is your forte. I said I was going to paint you.”

“Oh.” The redhead’s lips curved upward into a satisfied smirk. “In case you’re wondering, I look fabulous in blue.” He kicked off his shoes and began unbuttoning his shirt.

I think he looks best in nothing at all. Speaking of which… “You know, you could take that off and give me a little more space to work with.”

Turlough frowned, and crossed his still covered arms over his chest protectively. “I’d prefer to keep it on,” he said softly.

He suspected that if he made a direct request, Turlough would remove the shirt, even if he was uncomfortable about it. But, I’ll let that drop for now. After the younger man removed his trousers, he reached into the front pocket to retrieve a scrap of paper, which he then passed to the Doctor. Fishing his glasses from a jacket pocket, the Doctor examined the readout. It was a simple report from the TARDIS’s medical scanner. It stated that Turlough was free from viral and bacterial infections, parasites…also, he was allergic to shellfish. “Um, in case you wanted to know,” Turlough said, looking somewhat bashful.

The Gallifreyan smiled. “Thank you, Turlough. That was very thoughtful. Now then, up on the cross.”

---

Once Turlough was strapped in, the Doctor wrapped a length of ribbon around the young man’s genitals and tied it loosely in a decorative bow. Affixed to the ribbon was a bell. “I want you to stay perfectly still,” he instructed, doing his best to sound ominous as he picked up a brush. “Every time that bell rings, I’ll have to make an adjustment.”

Some time later, Turlough looked like a sadistic child’s art project. Bits of string, wound around his thighs and biceps, were tightened each time he twitched enough to ring the bell. The Doctor was putting the finishing touches on the red spiral on the left thigh, when he decided to give his subject – and living canvas- a break. “You can talk now if you like.”

“About what?” Turlough croaked. The Doctor set down his paintbrush, and picked up a glass of water, placing a straw between his companion’s parched lips so he could drink. Turlough gulped. “Thank you, Sir. What would you like me to talk about?”

The Gallifreyan was distracted by his own handiwork. The pattern on his chest needed to be touched up again. All the colors are running together, and it looks like the poor boy is melting.
“Anything is fine,” he replied. “Would you prefer I suggest a topic?”
Turlough started to answer, but was pre-empted by a tinkling sound. The Doctor grinned. Time for another adjustment. He reached into his pocket and retrieved two three-fingered prongs joined by a chain. Dangling it in front of his companion’s face, the Doctor waited for Turlough to realize what they were. Beautiful blue eyes looked heavenward, but their owner managed to not flinch as his nipples were clamped.

“Hmmm…what would you like, or not like, to talk about right now? Perhaps you could entertain me with more stories of your exploits on Earth. Did you ever have sexual contact with a human female?” As he’d expected, Turlough rolled his eyes.

“A few,” he admitted. “Only so I might have a chance with their husbands.”

“Really? Do tell.”

“Married couples looking to spice things up so they find themselves an accommodating third party – perhaps a virginal schoolboy. There’s whole pages of ads in certain newspapers.”

“Quite the actor, aren’t you?”

The Doctor watched carefully as a sort of mask covered the younger man’s face. Even nude and bound he manages to convey a strange innocence. So much I don’t know about him. Turlough smiled sweetly, his bright eyes shining. “No, Ma’am. I’ve never been with a woman. I want to learn. Do I put my fingers here?”

He laughed, and wanted to applaud. “I imagine they enjoyed your performance quite a bit.”

The redhead smirked triumphantly. “Oh, yes. Nothing incited their lust more than the prospect of deflowering an innocent.”

In his mind’s eye, the Doctor pictured a wilted, crumpled blossom with petals scattered to the four winds. “Ahem, did you enjoy it?”

Turlough’s nose wrinkled, but he looked more thoughtful than disgusted. “It’s not bad. I mean, I got off well enough. But I just wasn’t into it, if you know what I mean. Like I said, I was paying more attention the husband, trying to gauge his level of interest. Is he watching the wife, or me? Would he like to take a turn next?”

“What was the answer?”

“Sometimes. The wife would be amused, or aroused, by her husband’s desire to ‘experiment’ with another man. After that I’d make arrangements to see him later, alone. I think we’ve established I’m not shy, but I prefer to work one-on-one.” Turlough closed his eyes for a moment, looking pained. He inhaled deeply, jingling the bell again. “I hate that thing,” he grumbled. The Doctor gave the chain that fell across his companion’s flushed chest a gentle tug, making him gasp, which in turn resulted in more jingling. Turlough groaned in frustration.

Probably time to wind him down. “You’re gorgeous, Turlough,” the Doctor said earnestly. “I couldn’t possibly do you justice with a any sort of drawing, but I am tempted to take a photograph.” Color drained out of the young man’s face as his body went rigid, and he turned his head sharply to break eye contact. The bell jingled, but the Doctor ignored it, more concerned with his companion’s reaction. “Is everything all right? Do you need me to let you out right now?” He reached for the scissors he kept nearby.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Turlough whispered, casting his eyes downward. “I can’t stay still any longer. Please, Sir, I need you to touch me.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

First the Doctor steadied Turlough’s shaky hips. Then, applying gentle pressure, he moved upward over still-covered arms to massage the young man’s tense shoulders. Damp fabric stuck to hot skin. “Hold on,” he said in a soothing tone while removing the clamps from his chest. Turlough hissed sharply as blood flow was restored.

“You’re doing very well,” the Doctor remarked as he began to undo the extra bindings. “I’ve noticed you are doing much better at controlling your mental spillage.” Finally, Turlough began to relax, almost glowing at the compliment. “I find your obedience - your submission, gratifying. Your desire to give pleasure as well as receive it is, frankly, inspiring. I’m enjoying our little game immensely. So perhaps there something I could do for you this evening; something you might enjoy.” The Doctor ran his thumb across Turlough’s lips, then brought that same digit to his own slightly open mouth. Ice blue eyes reflected obvious excitement. “Why don’t you tell me what to do for a change.”

Turlough spoke in a reverent whisper. “Sir, I would like it very much if you would…” He paused, doing his best to articulate his desperate need. “…take my…and…oh hell…go down on me, please.” The Doctor moved to kneel, when Turlough stopped him, “Wait, Sir. Would you kiss me first?” Trying to conceal his surprise, he flashed his companion a lopsided smile. He’s never requested such a simple gesture of affection before. That he’s willing to delay for a kiss is…interesting.

“Of course,” the Doctor replied, taking Turlough’s face in his hands and pressing his lips gently to the redhead’s. The younger man breathed his thanks and opened his mouth slightly, allowing the tip of the Doctor’s tongue to dart against his own. Planting sucking kisses alongside his companion’s pale neck before running his open mouth down over his heaving chest and stomach, the Doctor removed the ribbons and bell. Turlough was treated to sweet, slow licks along his length, followed by a swipe of the tongue across the tip, and soft breath blown across the deep colored crown. The Doctor chuckled inwardly. Hope I remember how to do this properly. Despite his slender frame, Turlough is rather gifted.

Moving down, the Doctor relaxed to allow Turlough to slide into his mouth until he bumped the back of the Time Lord’s throat. Turlough moaned loudly. Secretly, the Doctor was thrilled by the fact that Turlough simply could not keep quiet when he was enjoying himself. I know you want to thrust, but you can’t. Here, I’ll help.
He moved his head slowly, sucking a tad more forcefully on the downward stroke. Glancing up into heavy lidded eyes, the Doctor released his captive for a moment, and said very matter of factly. “Before I continue, you need to ask me something.”

“Yes, oh yes. Sir, may I cum in your mouth?”

The Doctor purred as heat surged in his veins. The transfer of power is almost tangible. Coupled with the strength of his...wanting, it's intoxicating. Quickly giving his consent, he enveloped Turlough once more and moved with greater speed. Before long the redhead was keening as he rode out the force of his release. The Doctor waited a moment before he let the twitching organ fall from his lips.

Undoing the primary restraints, the Doctor braced Turlough against his hip, and maneuvered him to the bed. He lay back and let Turlough sprawl out on top of him for a second before the younger man rolled over onto his side and wrapped his legs around the Doctor’s waist. He pulled the Gallifreyan close while nuzzling his neck and making contented noises. As Turlough’s body temperature dropped, the Doctor covered them both with a blanket and massaged his limbs until pale hands and feet were slightly pinker.

Looking down at his companion, his hearts felt lighter. It’s good to be share pleasure with a partner again. Turlough is a good friend, a delightful playmate, and…something more perhaps? Sensing Turlough beginning to unwind himself, the Doctor instinctively reeled him back in. “Is there somewhere you need to be?”

Turlough appeared confused. “No, I just thought that I’m such mess, and since we’re done…”

“Are we?”

Turlough blushed charmingly. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want me to…”

“Not necessarily. I think I’m drunk on my own dominance at the moment, and I want you to stay right where you are.”

“Okay. I can stay.” Though he looked at the Doctor strangely, Turlough relaxed into the embrace. He yawned, and stared at the Doctor in disbelief. “Hey! I’m tired. What gives?”

The blond grinned sheepishly. “I’m stealing a little of your energy,” he confessed. “Don’t worry, you have tons. This is the first time you’ve noticed.”

Turlough frowned. “I would be cross with you for not telling me sooner, but I should have suspected you’d try it, if only to keep me from jumping you so often. And, at the moment, I feel too damn good to care. So, since I’m not going anywhere, I suppose I’ll have to submit to pillow talk.” Turlough covered his mouth as he yawned again. “It’s your turn to tell stories. You’re quickly running through all my best ones. Tell me about your misspent youth.”

“What do you want to know?”

“I presume that same gender relations are acceptable on Gallifrey?”

“We’re very private about our ‘relations’ in general, but yes. I suspect the same is true wherever you’re from.” The Doctor wasn’t really angling for too much information. Still, let’s see what he’ll give up.

His companion seemed too drowsy to dissemble. “In my social circle not much was taboo, but you’re correct. On the home world no one would bat an eye at our relationship.”

Interesting choice of words. “Earth must have been a bit of a shock, then.”

Turlough nodded. “Oh yeah. I narrowly escaped a couple severe beatings. Wish they’d covered that in Earth 101. You know, you never answered my question.”

“Which one?”

“Human males…do you fancy them?”

The Doctor grinned while a few faces flitted across his brain. “Oh I’ve been attracted to a couple over the centuries. But to be specific, no I didn’t pursue any while I was exiled. I was in a precarious position; trapped and wretchedly vulnerable. Plus it was a good ten years before your time, and the social atmosphere was slightly more repressive. Add to that working with the military…”

“Ugh,” said Turlough, with obvious distaste.

“Now, now. Just because you and the Brigadier didn’t get on – mostly because he wouldn’t let you get away with…well, things you shouldn’t be allowed to get away with.”

“I’ll take your punishments over his lectures any day,” Turlough said, snickering. “Now, are you seriously trying to tell me 'Hullo, I’m the Doctor' didn’t raise several miniskirts a few centimeters higher?”

The Doctor was taken aback. “Well…not so much as…not very many…,” he stammered. “I’m almost certain it was fewer than twenty.”

“I knew you were lying when you said you kept it zipped,” Turlough huffed.

“I did not lie,” the Time Lord protested. “I did keep it…zipped? Really, for a non-native speaker you have an affinity for the slang.”

“You pick up a few things at a boys’ school.”

“More than a few things, I’ll reckon,” the Doctor teased. “Anyway I found other ways to be of use.”

Turlough feigned shock. “Look at you - Gallifreyan Cassanova, pleasuring half the female population of London without a thought to his own gratification.”

“Had plenty of thoughts,” the Time Lord grumbled. “Anyway, I was leaving the men for you.”

“Your generosity is boundless.” Turlough laughed and shifted his position, nudging his partner’s thigh.

“As, it seems, is your sex drive.”

“Um, sorry,” Turlough muttered.

The Doctor kissed him swiftly and held him tightly. “No, you’re not. Nor should you be.”

-------

Eventually Turlough dozed off and the Doctor watched over him, feeling very protective. He knew it wouldn’t be long before those long lashes fluttered and the younger man was awake enough to insist he had to go. Turlough might doze lightly after they played, but he never truly slept.

I should ask him if he’d like to rest in my room. I wouldn’t mind the company even if I didn’t sleep for very long. After all, isn’t holding one’s lover, in a proper bed, through the night the norm? Is that what we are? Are we lovers, or not quite?

Turlough rolled over and began to mumble, though it seemed he was still asleep. The Doctor placed his hand on Turlough’s arm to reassure him. The redhead groaned, “C’mon, not tonight Granger. I’m tired and it still hurts from last time.”

Intrigued, but not wanting to intrude on his companion’s dreams, the Doctor tried rocking him awake. The younger man thrashed violently, his voice full of fear. “Master…where are you? I can’t see.” Instinctively, the Doctor pulled his friend closer, trying to stabilize Turlough’s suddenly vulnerable body while his mind worked through the nightmare. Unfortunately, every touch seemed to agitate him further. “Why are you doing this to me?” he whispered sadly, drawing his knees up to his chest. “I did everything you wanted. Please, I can’t take this. It hurts so much.”

The Doctor got up and knelt on the floor beside the bed. “Turlough, wake up,” he said firmly.

“Noooo,” Turlough moaned, his fists clenching as the muscles in his neck tightened. “How could you? I trusted you. You said…you made me say…”

This needs to stop before he descends even further into terror. He grasped his friend by the shoulders and gave him a hard shake. “Turlough!”

The young man wailed and convulsed. “No!” The Doctor managed to catch Turlough’s wrists before he could claw at his own face. “Never again!”

“Turlough!”

Finally waking, Turlough trembled, his eyes slowly focusing. “Where am I?” he asked in a small voice.

“Turlough, you’re safe. You’re here with me.”

Dropping his arms to his sides, Turlough swallowed. “Doctor,” he said, obviously relieved. Abruptly, he rose from the bed and grabbed his clothes off a nearby chair.

“Please stay and talk to me. I want to make sure you’re all right.”

“I’m tired,” Turlough said, his voice hollow.

The Doctor approached him. “Then come to my room. I’ll stay…”

“No!” Turlough seemed aghast at the suggestion. “I can’t come to your room. That’s not…appropriate. Good night, Doctor.”

The Doctor was worried, but guessed pursuing Turlough now would only upset him further. Every time he seems to be doing well, a new layer of trauma is exposed. We started playing these games partly to help him enjoy what might otherwise have been a difficult time. Is it now doing more harm than good? It seems his human ‘master’ was not as careful with Turlough as he should have been. What did he do? Do I dare ask, and risk reopening old wounds? There’s so much I don’t know. How much do I have a right to know?

Unbound - Chapter Five

Sun, 07 Jan 2007 00:26:16 GMT

Title:Unbound
Categories(?):Smutty goodness, a touch of romance, humor, angst, BDSM
Rating: We're in NC-17 territory, kids, and there ain't no turnin' back
Pairing: Five/Turlough

Unbound - Chapter Five

The Doctor was pleasantly surprised to find that, for at least forty-eight hours, Turlough could be a model of propriety and restraint. Apart from looking at him slightly askew over breakfast the morning following their… encounter, the normally expressive redhead had given no indication whether he was troubled or thrilled by what had occurred. The Time Lord found it terribly frustrating. Eagerly anticipating the end of the second day, he managed to resist the urge to tackle Turlough while the young man was putting away the dishes after dinner. Instead, he said, in an off-handed manner, “Join me in the library in twenty minutes.”

--

Cultivating an air of serene control, the Doctor settled into a high-backed leather chair, and cleaned his reading glasses. Well, that took all of five minutes. Vexed by his own restlessness, he grabbed a book at random, and read the same page three times before he caught sight of his companion approaching. Turlough moved with his usual confidence, clearly not at all cowed despite his obvious vulnerability during their last private meeting. He too, picked up a book, and flopped down on the couch opposite the Doctor. Turlough held the book above his head, and pretended to scan the contents. “You wanted to see me?”

Looking over the gold rims of his glasses, the Doctor’s eyes narrowed.
“I would have thought you would be interested in seeing me,” he admitted.

Turlough shrugged. “Sort of. No rush though.”

Coughing, the Doctor set aside his reading and focused on his oh-so-clever companion. “You’re not fooling anyone.”

“Not trying to fool anyone,” he replied brightly. “The only one who matters is you, and you can read me like a book, right?” He shook the dusty volume in his hand for emphasis.

“If you’re going to be theatrical next time choose something written in a language I know you can read.”

The young man sighed melodramatically. “Damn, you’ve seen through my charade! I was going to ask you to go to the winter carnival with me, but now I’ve been thrown completely off my mark and can’t go through with it.” He crossed his arms over his chest and shot the Doctor a lopsided smile. “How’s that for theatrical?”

The Doctor laughed out loud. “I promise to be very flattered should you find the courage to ask me out again.” He handed Turlough a pad of paper and a pen. “In the meantime, please go through this list. Check off everything that you absolutely will not do, nor have done to you, as well as things you may enjoy.”

Turlough took the materials from him, muttering, “If I had known there was going to be a quiz I would have pretended to study.”

A few minutes later the pad was passed back. “Not very many won’ts,” the Doctor noted.

Arms stretched above his head, Turlough dangled his legs off the edge of the couch. “I’m an open-minded guy.”

Pointing to some notations that had been added at the bottom of the page, the Doctor inquired, “Is this even possible for your species?”

“No, but I have no idea what you’re capable of.”

“I expect you’ll find out.”

“Promises, promises.”

The Doctor removed his glasses and leaned back in his chair, feeling a great deal more at ease than he had earlier. It helps to have the upper hand. “I thought we might discuss the ground rules.”

Turlough frowned. “Still using the game metaphor? That could backfire on you. It implies a winner and a loser. I hate losing. Bet you do too.”

The Doctor shushed him. “Don’t interrupt. I think that’s Rule #2. As you are well aware, games can go on with one person winning for a time, and then the other. Since we have not played with each other…”

“No, I was playing with myself - sorry - interrupting.” Turlough made a motion as if zipping his lips shut.

The Time Lord gave his companion an icy glare, and spoke in a lower register, which seemed to have the desired effect of making the young man slightly more compliant. “Understand, Turlough. We are playing right now, and you will have to deal with points counted against you.”

Turlough nodded mutely and moved from the couch to the floor. Kneeling, he put his hands behind his back and inclined his head downward in a gesture of submission. The Doctor’s insides melted slightly. Beautiful. So much potential. “Very nice. Now, I will be looking over this list later to gauge your limits, but I think I’ve seen enough to say you’re more what they call a bottom than a true submissive.” In response to Turlough’s look of surprise, he retorted, “Really, Turlough, I am almost 800 years old. I was training puppies like you when humans still believed their lovely planet was a disc. Now then, when we are not engaged as we are presently, I expect you to behave as you would normally. Your admirable restraint over the past two days, as well as your smart remarks a few minutes ago, lead me to believe you are capable of compartmentalizing well enough. May I rely on your discretion?”

“Of course,” Turlough replied, seemingly insulted. “I don’t need people, and by people I mean her, staring at me like an oddity any more then she does already.”

“Good. I would find undue deference or flirtation on your part needless and distracting.”

“And you prefer to be distracted by me in private. I get it. May I ask you a question?”

“In a moment. Before this conversation goes further, I want to impress upon you one central requirement; the first rule as it were.” The Doctor leaned forward, hoping he looked very stern indeed. “It is my intention to explore these…possibilities with you and you alone. I expect you to be equally focused.” When Turlough looked confused, the Gallifreyan spelled it out for him. “There will be no more boys whose names you don’t bother to ask. And you will never call another man ‘Doctor’. Is that understood?”

“Ohh. Okay, no problem.” Turlough grinned, but then dropped his joking manner. “Likewise, Doctor, I have chosen to submit to you…for as long as it suits me, but I am not a trained animal. I do not perform for your amusement, or others.”

The Doctor found the speed with which Turlough agreed to exclusivity intriguing, as well as his mention of performing for others. I’ll have to ask him about that sometime. Later, when he’s all tied up with nowhere to go.

Turlough’s smile returned. “May I ask you something now?”

The Doctor spread his arms. “Ask.”

“Am I allowed to approach you if I want to…play?”

“Yes, of course. Though the final decision – if, when and where – remains mine. Conversely, if you are not so inclined you must tell me so.”

“Is there something special you’d like me to call you? I’m guessing ‘Master’ is out.”

“Too right. I would find that extremely insulting. I give you leave to address me as you wish, as long as your speech is respectful and you remain mindful of your position.” The Doctor reached out and cupped Turlough’s chin in his palm. “Do you have a safe word, or would you like me to assign you one?”

Color rose to Turlough’s pale cheeks. “Um, Sir, my safe word is Brendon. You-you know you have to stop right away?”

“Of course. Turlough, your safety is of paramount importance to me.”

The redhead took a deep breath and let it out slowly, seeming relieved. “Thank you, Sir. Um, may I ask how I will be punished?”

The Doctor enjoyed watching Turlough’s demeanor change from cocksure to quietly submissive as easily as he had fallen to his knees. “Punished for what?”

“Disobedience.”

“Are you planning on being disobedient?” The Doctor chuckled as Turlough squirmed.

“No, of course not. But just in case…”

“Refusal to comply with reasonable requests will result in postponement or denial of pleasure. As you are not a particularly patient person, I expect that can, and will, cause you moderate discomfort.” Of late, I have not been terribly patient either, but there’s no need for him to know that. “Breaking any of the rules I set, or failure to follow instructions without good reason will result in harsher measures. Understand that while your pain offers me no entertainment, it can be useful as a means of instruction, or as a gateway to different sorts of pleasure. I would never knowingly harm you, Turlough. But I might hurt you just a bit.”

Shivering, Turlough bit his lip and closed his eyes briefly, obviously enjoying himself. “I understand,” he said quietly. “I can handle rules, and requests, though I think you were telling more than asking in the cloister.”

“A bit of both, perhaps. Are you all right?”

Turlough wrinkled his nose. “Er, a little sore at first, but all better now.”

“You should be more careful.”

“Yes, I’ll try to remember that the next time you work me into a frenzy of lust and tell me to jerk off while you watch.”

The Doctor clucked his tongue. “So crude. We’ll have to work on that.”

“Face it, Doctor, I’m incorrigible.”

“Mmmm, I doubt that. I think I will enjoy teaching you to behave. ”

Turlough laughed. As if unconscious of the movement, he raised his hands to his tie.

“What else?” the Doctor prompted.

“Well, um…I don’t know what you like.”

“You’ll find out. I will show you, or tell you, while I slowly and deliberately coax any additional information I require from your body.”

Shuffling forward on his knees, Turlough laid his head on the Time Lord’s thigh. Gratified by the younger man’s acceptance of his dominance, he stroked his hair gently, earning a sigh of contentment. Sensing that there was more his companion desired, he reminded, “All you have to do is ask.”

Turlough swallowed, and looked up, his eyelids heavy. “Sir,” he said in a husky whisper that made the Doctor warm all over. “Please, Sir, I want to touch you.”

The Doctor felt his own desire growing very quickly and struggled to conceal it. “Be specific,” he urged.

Turlough reached out a hand and let it hover over the Doctor’s groin. “May I touch you here, Sir?” Covering Turlough’s hand with his own, the Doctor laid their combined palms against the front of his trousers. Turlough’s hesitation vanished as he eagerly grasped the zipper, lowering it just enough to reach inside and begin groping for what he wanted.

“Uhh,” the Doctor moaned freely as he was pawed through the soft cotton of his undergarments before hooking his thumbs into the waistband and pulling it downward. I must remember to do this sooner the next time I regenerate! Gently, Turlough held his prize in two hands, looking it over curiously. “Not that different, I think,” the Doctor remarked.

“Not much, though I see what you mean about the double pulse. Would probably be disconcerting to an unsuspecting human. I, on the other hand, find it delightful.” He stroked with just enough pressure to make the Time Lord gasp. “I wonder how it tastes.”

Eyes shut tight as he tried to concentrate, the Doctor found his hands were sweating, and he gripped the arms of the chair for support. “Why don’t you find out?” He really hoped Turlough wasn’t teasing because he didn’t want to have to punish him at that very moment. He sighed as he was enveloped in smooth warmth. Yes yes yes.

A minute later the Doctor regretted mocking Turlough’s claim of sufficient experience. Who cares where he learned how to do this? Just enjoy it. Aware that he was not going to last long no matter what his companion did, the Doctor made no effort to hold back, though part of him did want to push Turlough back and reciprocate. I should tear into those damn tight trousers of his and taste him as well. No, not yet. He asked for this, and this is what he’ll get. No more, no less. Still…it wouldn’t hurt to move my leg…there.

Reading the Doctor’s movements correctly, Turlough straddled the extended limb, rubbing himself against it excitedly while craning his neck to keep applying suction. Blindly, Turlough reached for the Doctor’s hands and brought them to the back of his head, communicating his desire to be ‘controlled’. The Doctor obliged, pulling Turlough to him harder and faster.

Soon, he tapped his fingers against the young man’s cheek to signal that he was close. Turlough only hunched his hips forward harder, seeking his own release at the same time he propelled the Doctor to the inevitable conclusion. He wasn’t fast enough. The Gallifreyan gasped and bucked as he let go. Moments later, Turlough pushed him back into the chair, shuddering violently.

The two men remained frozen in breathless awe for a few moments before the Doctor regained his focus. Turlough’s half-closed eyes, and glistening parted lips, were a sight to behold. Peeling the younger man off his lap, the Doctor covered himself and wiped Turlough’s mouth with his sleeve. “Thank you,” he said calmly as he rose to his feet. “Until next time.”

Turlough’s eyes were still clouded with pleasure as he looked up at the Doctor, unsure what to make of yet another sudden departure. In the doorway the Doctor turned and said, “Oh, I almost forgot. Don’t even think about satisfying yourself without my permission.”

Unbound, Chapter Four

Fri, 05 Jan 2007 20:41:11 GMT

Title:Unbound
Categories(?):Smutty goodness, a touch of romance, humor, angst, BDSM
Rating: We're in NC-17 territory, kids, and there ain't no turnin' back
Pairing: Five/Turlough

Unbound - Chapter Four

Well aware that there were worse places than Earth, during his exile Turlough had conditioned himself to avoid violence or overtly aggressive behavior. However, captivity had not dulled his predatory instincts. Stalking the object of his desire, waiting for the right moment to strike, was just as entertaining as setting little traps – with himself as bait – to ensnare his intended victim. The chase itself thrilled Turlough, regardless of whether he was pursuer or the pursued. It all ends the same; with me getting what I want.

It took less than a month for Turlough to turn the relatively safe confines of the TARDIS into a hunting ground. He’d begun by testing the Doctor’s powers of perception, staring at the back of that familiar blond head, counting silently. Typically it took between ten and fifteen seconds for him to suspect he was being watched. He would turn his head only to find Turlough’s attention elsewhere. Sometimes, Turlough would glance back at the Doctor, eyes wide and guileless, as if asking, “Did you need something?”
Then the Time Lord’s dark eyes would flit away, though Turlough had noticed they were moving just a bit more slowly of late. Another of his favorite tactics was to step closer to the Doctor than was necessary, and be very still, waiting until the other man seemed just about to protest the invasion of his personal space. Then Turlough would move away, apparently distracted by some readout or blinking light on the TARDIS console. Turlough particularly enjoyed this almost, but not quite, touching if Tegan was also in the room. You’d never admit I’m making you uncomfortable while she’s around, would you, Doctor? What would she think?

Since he tended to stay up late anyway, Turlough made a habit of reading or drawing at varied locations around the TARDIS when and where the Doctor was once accustomed to being alone. He was careful not to engage the other man directly, acting as if he were completely unaware that when he stretched out on his stomach his trousers were pulled tightly against his rear end. I can hardly be blamed for not noticing, engrossed as I am in some novel or bit of classical poetry that the Doctor himself suggested I read.

Emboldened, Turlough was even sketching the stuff of his fantasies in plain view of his friend. The look of surprise that resulted from a casual glance over his companion’s shoulder, only to see a vivid charcoal rendering of a ‘forced’ fellatio scenario, delighted Turlough beyond words.

Eventually Turlough’s tireless efforts to attract attention to himself began to pay off. He started to feel eyes on him, and when he looked up he could swear the Doctor had turned away just a fraction of a second earlier. Furthermore, Turlough suspected the tingling he felt in the back of his mind at those times was the result of a particularly pointed thought. Perhaps I can tell when someone is thinking at me. I like that feeling.

Finally, Turlough decided it was time for the final phase of his master plan. He wore his oldest, tightest, shirt, and loosened his tie, making it seem even more like a playful accessory than usual. Always seemed to get me noticed on Earth, Turlough recalled. Humans like contrasts. Put neat uniform trousers and waistcoat together with a few undone buttons and slightly messy hair and they can’t help but stare. Let’s see how it works on Gallifreyans.

He was on his best behavior all day, biting his tongue to stifle any sarcastic or critical comment to Tegan as she paraded through the TARDIS in a series of outfits. It thrilled him that the Doctor did not show any particular interest in her very short skirts. And there’s that tickle in my brain again. Wonderful.

Waiting once again until Tegan said good night, Turlough moseyed to the control room. He feigned interest in whatever repairs the Doctor was up to, handing over tools when requested. Finally, when there was a lull in the conversation, Turlough made his opening move. “That black skirt Tegan tried on was interesting,” he said mildly.

“Hmmm?” The Doctor seemed determined not to look at him.

Turlough pressed on. “Leather’s such a versatile material, don’t you think?”

“Very useful,” the Doctor agreed. “What’s your sudden interest in fashion?”

Turlough pulled his shoulders back, making his shirt cling to his lean frame. “Just making conversation,” he claimed.

The Doctor flashed him a strange smile. “We rarely discuss trivialities, Turlough. Usually there is something you want to ask me, or something you want to tell me. Which is it tonight?”

Turlough held back the glowing heat inside his chest with a thin-lipped grin. “Am I that transparent? I was thinking that leather straps would make very useful restraints indeed.”

“I’m certain they have on many occasions,” the Doctor replied. “Are you thinking of taking up leather craft as a hobby?”

Turlough paused, unsure if the Doctor was teasing him. “Hardly. However, I was thinking about how I would like to spend the next couple of hours and how I will definitely need some assistance.”

“What exactly do you want me to do?”

Turlough’s pulse raced. If I asked for everything I wanted, you’d turn three shades of red and lock me in my room. So I’ll ask for a fraction of that. “I’ve procured several leather belts from the wardrobe room, and I’d like to be lashed to the pillars in the cloister. Since my track record with self-bondage speaks to a lack of coordination, and you were so kind to lend a hand last time, I thought perhaps I could impose on you again.”

The Doctor seemed to mull it over for a minute. Then he set down his tools and pushed away from the console. “If it keeps you out of trouble, how can I refuse?”

In the cloister room, Turlough had already laid out several belts with various types of studs and buckles. He fashioned two into loops, and joined them with other belts. The Doctor helped Turlough fasten straps first around his left arm, then his right. Turlough had chosen two columns that were just close enough that he could stand between them with an arm strapped to either one without straining his shoulders, though he would not be able to bring his arms down to his sides. Because the belts could slide up or down the stone pillars, Turlough would be free to stand or kneel as he preferred.

Once he’d made sure that there was enough of a gap between the loops around Turlough’s wrists that no serious chafing would occur, the Doctor clasped his hands together and said, “All set then? I’ll check up on you later.”

Turlough opened his mouth, wanting to ask the Doctor to stay, but decided he could afford to be patient a little while longer. He gave a curt nod and watched as the Doctor walked away.

Hmm, I thought he’d want to stick around for awhile to observe me in this new situation. Well, I suppose now I have time to figure out exactly what I should say when he comes back.

Kneeling on the cool stone floor, Turlough leaned forward just until the straps tightened around his wrists, but not so much the leather bit painfully. He relaxed into the position, closing his eyes and focusing on every sensation his body was experiencing. He tried to let his mind go, but unlike past meditations, the hormones coursing through his veins would not allow his thoughts to stray far from a central theme. He recalled the good times with his art teacher. The impatient human had always found Turlough’s apparent helplessness too much of a temptation to resist for very long. Turlough’s breath quickened as he remembered losing most of a new school uniform to a sharp pair of scissors. He could almost see the flash of the blades and feel the cool metal against his skin as his captor taunted him with the slimmest possibility that the shears would be used to cut something other than fabric.

Turlough hadn’t really been afraid that time. He was on school grounds and his roommate knew exactly where he was. Not why, of course, but it was enough insurance. Turlough had learned quickly how to get his needs met while living among the sheep-like human boys at Brendon. Taking was twice as easy as asking, and, in the end, safer. Coming on too soft, asking if they’d like to fool around is the quickest route to getting your face smashed in. But act like you know they’ve done it before; like you know they want to. That’s the trick.

He pictured dark corners in the library where he’d maneuvered a few, supposedly innocent, classmates, in pursuit of a little mutual pleasure. Turlough could almost smell the paper and sweat. He remembered pawing at the front of the other boy’s trousers, making him squirm at the forbidden thrill; impatiently guiding a trembling hand to Turlough’s own obvious hardness. Why do they fight their own desires? It’s as if they feel bad for feeling good. He chuckled at the memory of how he’d admonished one skittish young man. “For the last time Jenkins, no, this doesn’t make you queer. Now grip it tighter already.”

As he was savoring the thin sliver of arousal, Turlough became aware of another presence. His eyes snapped open and he stood up, looking around quickly, but he could see no one. Still suspicious, he remained alert, his body tensed. From behind him he heard a voice.

“I think I finally understand why this appeals to you.”

It was the Doctor. Turlough craned his neck, peering into the shadows on the other side of the room.

“Personally, I do not enjoy being bound. Quite the opposite. When I have been restrained, nearly always against my wishes, I have been, at best, bored. At worst, it makes me quite agitated. Granted, this is because I am usually being prevented from doing something important, or being held in preparation for something I would find even more unpleasant. It’s tedious either way. But you, Turlough, are bored easily, and more often, by the mundanities of everyday life. You seek distractions. Granted, they are not always productive, but no doubt stimulating in their own way.”

Turlough shivered. Never before had a psychological assessment sounded so exciting. Unable to make out anything lurking in his field of vision, Turlough realized the other man must be standing behind him. He twisted to the right to look over his shoulder, but a firm hand came down on top of his head and moved it back to the center.

“Eyes forward, please,” the Doctor said with authority.

An involuntary shiver traveled up Turlough’s spine. “Doctor, what are you playing at?”

A throaty chuckle echoed in the still air. “Oh, I’m playing the very same game you are, Turlough. Though I suspect my moves will be rather more subtle than yours.”

“What do you mean?” Turlough hadn’t been prepared for verbal sparring, and his body was primed for touching.

“Turlough, no one takes that long to read The Illiad, or needs to switch their position on the couch so often in an effort to get comfortable. You were rather obviously showing off. Congratulations, you have my undivided attention.”

Turlough wanted to ask if the Doctor liked what he saw, but decided to wait until the Gallifreyan had shown his hand completely. Turlough heard fabric rustling behind him. Is he taking his clothes off? The mere possibility of seeing the gorgeous blond revealed made his groin twitch. But, in fact, the Doctor had only removed his coat, and was rolling up his sleeves as he walked around in front of Turlough, looking very serious. He paced while he talked.

“Did you ask for my help this evening simply because you wanted to be bound, or because you wanted me to bind you?”

The question was a simple one, but Turlough was taken aback by his friend’s easy assessment of the situation. “I…um...” he stammered.

“I’ve assumed the latter,” the Doctor said quietly, combing fingers through his own fair hair. “If I am wrong; if I have misjudged your intentions completely, please tell me now. I will free you and we won’t speak of it again.”

Turlough swallowed. This is it. “You are not wrong,” he said quietly.

He appeared pleased by Turlough’s response. “As I was saying before, you seem to enjoy being restrained precisely because it makes you sharp, the waiting and watching. You know, I have felt your eyes on me, not simply looking, but probing, seeking.”

“Was I?” Turlough asked mockingly. “Perhaps I did it without knowing.”

The Doctor glared. Turlough was startled by the intensity of his friend’s expression. He decided it might be a good idea to stop sassing the Time Lord. Noting the change in Turlough’s demeanor, the Doctor smiled again. “At first, I was concerned by how boldly you offered yourself up. I worried you thought it was payment I was somehow owed. After considerable reflection, I decided that I was doing you a disservice, assuming you were not capable of differentiating between genuine friendship and…something else. And yet, I am not convinced you fully understand what you are inviting.”

“I know what’s going on,” Turlough assured him.

The Doctor snapped at him. “No. You have been enjoying a fantasy, one which you control. How actual events measure up to what you hope for remains to be seen.”

Turlough thrust his chin out defiantly. “I have done this before.”

The Gallifreyan sighed. “You may have been someone’s plaything, Turlough, but I’ve no need for toys. It is enough for me that you are a companion and friend.”

Turlough snickered silently. I hear a ‘but’ in there.

“But,” the Doctor drawled in a convincing imitation of Turlough’s snide tone. “You have demonstrated the potential to be something more. Something I think I would enjoy having in my life again.” His eyes sparkled, and his voice softened a little, becoming almost teasing. “You may have done something like this before, Turlough, but I’m afraid I must criticize your teacher. He apparently let you develop all sorts of bad habits; failing to impress upon you the importance of discipline. Yes, I think that’s where we should begin. Stand up straight now.”

Turlough pulled himself up and met the Doctor’s gaze without fear.

“Excellent. You know, Turlough, I am familiar with the pleasure that can be derived from fulfilling a dominant role. When you’re all tied up like this I really can do to you whatever I like.”

Turlough’s pulse quickened. “What would you like to do to me, Doctor?” he asked brazenly. A sharp laugh stung his ears.

“Ha! Now why would I tell you that?”

Without further explanation, the Doctor reached out and undid Turlough’s tie, letting it hang around his neck, limp. Confident fingers proceeded to undo several buttons of Turlough’s crisp white shirt, creating a gap in the linen that allowed the cool air of the cloister to reach his bare skin. With a strange, knowing smile, the Doctor took a step back and ran his eyes up and down his captive’s body. The hunger in his expression made Turlough’s heart beat faster. I’ve dreamed of him looking at me like that, but to finally see it. It’s breathtaking.

The Doctor clasped his hands behind his back and stood with his legs apart in an approximation of military parade rest. “The last time we talked, you asked me about intimate relationships I may have had during my exile on Earth. I think it’s only fair I know a bit more about your recent exploits. Did you have fun on the resort planet we visited a short while ago?”

Turlough nodded, and then was confused when the Doctor narrowed his eyes and clucked his tongue.

“Respond verbally, Turlough. I’ve no wish to do more work than I have to.”

Turlough’s brown furrowed. He felt odd being scolded like a child when there was nothing childish about where he hoped this ridiculous interrogation was leading. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Yes, I did have fun.”

“Who did you have fun with?”

The question threw Turlough for a loop. He wasn’t sure he should admit he’d pursued a partner with more than a passing resemblance to the man now standing in front of him. Would he be flattered or offended?

The Doctor snapped his fingers. “Please respond promptly, and be aware that I have no patience for fabrications.”

Turlough hurried to respond appropriately, “Okay, sorry. Um, I didn’t ask his name.”

“Interesting. On Earth, did you have many sexual partners?” The Doctor’s voice melted smoothly in Turlough’s ears, providing a stark contrast to the effect this line of inquiry was having on the rest of the Trion’s body, which felt flushed and tight.

“How many is ‘many’? I’m experienced if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Hmf. Experienced by whose standards, Turlough? Do remember who you’re talking to. Apart from your art teacher, you sought others - beyond your classmates?”

Turlough snorted. “Of course. I wouldn’t waste my time…”

“Unless you had to,” the Doctor interjected. Turlough decided he hated it when the Doctor looked at him like that. Like he knew the answer, but asked the question anyway.

Turlough’s face burned. “Yes,” he admitted, gritting his teeth.

The Doctor moved forward, undid another button on Turlough’s shirt, and remained standing toe to toe with the redhead. “It must have been difficult, always having to be the aggressor. Pursuing the reluctant and unworthy.”

Turlough found the other man’s proximity both desirable and unnerving. “Yes, it was tiresome, and given the culture’s disapproval of my desires, it was not easy. I wanted more.”

“You were attracted to stronger men?”

“Yes, exactly. They knew how to get what they wanted. I made them want me.”

The Doctor seemed to be thinking, and he touched his upper lip with his tongue. There was nothing obscene in the gesture, but Turlough found it erotic all the same. “I imagine you had more than a few admirers. With those eyes…those lips…that hair alone turned more than a few heads I’ll reckon.”

Flattered, Turlough swiveled his hips. “You should see my arse.”

The Doctor smirked. “In good time,” he promised. “What did he look like?”

Turlough was confused again. Why is he still asking questions? Why isn’t he all over me? “What? Who?”

“The man whose name you didn’t ask?”

“Er, he was blond,” Turlough offered, casting his eyes downward slightly. Gentle fingers lifted Turlough’s chin so eye contact was reestablished. Turlough murmured, “Blond…soft…pretty…compliant.”

The Doctor’s eyes were dark and deep, drawing Turlough in, though they seemed harder somehow. “Did he use his mouth on you?”

Turlough became conscious once more of the leather around his wrists, as well as the confinement of his clothes. Hearing him talk like this…it’s so good. He lowered his voice. “Yes, he did. In an alley behind some shop.”

“So you didn’t go to one of the houses?”

“Later. I met him first, on the way there. He was willing.”

The Doctor chuckled. “I wonder how willing you will be.”

“To do what?”

“Whatever I ask of you.”

“I don’t know,” Turlough answered truthfully. I have no idea what he is going to do and, in turn, how I will respond. Fantastic.

“Does it frighten you?”

“A bit. I’m more excited.”

“Good.” The Doctor caressed Turlough’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. Then he stepped back. “See you in a bit,” he said cheerfully, and walked away before Turlough could protest.

Now Turlough found it impossible to relax. He cursed himself for thinking it would be easy. Stupid! Like he’s going to fall for batted eyelashes when he’s got me strapped to a pillar. He can keep me waiting as long as he wants. After fuming for a few minutes, Turlough forced himself to take deep breaths and relax slightly. He didn’t want to become so agitated he injured himself again.

Unfortunately the cool air wafting across Turlough’s chest was provoking a predictable reaction from his nipples, and that in turn sparked a companion response from below his waist.

His thoughts strayed back to the past, recalling days and nights he managed to get away from the school, seeking strangers who would give him what his classmates never would: a good hard fuck. Oh yes. All the sinful hand jobs in creation cannot compare to the joy of being pinned beneath a hot, panting male. Although, being on top of such a creature runs a close second.

Dimly aware that he had sunk to his knees, Turlough’s arched his back and began to rock his hips back and forth. The movement was pleasing, but ultimately created more frustration as he had nothing to rub against. He groaned. Damn the Doctor for doing this to me. He’d better make it good when he gets back. As if they’d responded to his summons, Turlough felt hands reach inside his shirt. Slightly rough fingertips rubbed in tight circles over sensitive flesh. He gasped and threw his head back, meeting the taller man’s shoulder.

“Miss me?” The Doctor was kneeling behind Turlough, his lips nearly brushing his companion’s left ear.

“Uh huh,” Turlough groaned.

“I see your mind traveled down a predictable path,” the Doctor mused. He pinched Turlough’s left nipple while his free hand unbuttoned the shirt the rest of the way. “Do you like this?”

“Y-yes, God, yes.”

“Good. If you didn’t, I would stop.” His tone was serious and Turlough struggled to pay attention to every word. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Turlough shook his head emphatically. His hands itched as he pulled on the leather straps that were keeping him from touching the man behind him. “Don’t stop,” he pleaded. “Please don’t stop.”

To Turlough’s delight, the Doctor continued pinching and raking his fingernails over Turlough’s exposed chest and stomach. Red streaks appeared on his pale flesh and Turlough was thrilled by the possibility that he might be able to see the marks in the morning. When the Gallifreyan’s hands left his body, Turlough could not suppress a groan of disappointment.

“Hush now,” the Doctor muttered soothingly. “Didn’t you tell me I should see your arse?” Swiftly he undid Turlough’s trousers and pulled them, along with his underpants, down over his hips and thighs.

“Oh!” was all Turlough could say, as the lower half of his body was exposed. A tiny twinge of instinctive shame was quickly replaced by pride. I want him to look at me. I want him to see what he’s done to me.

The Doctor lifted Turlough’s shirt and held it up against the small of his back. “Hmm, not bad.”

Turlough’s jaw dropped. “Not bad?” he asked, incredulous. Men have begged on their knees for the privilege of licking that ass. “I’ll have you know,” he began, only to be cut off by the joyful sensation of having his buttocks gripped and kneaded.

“What was that?”

“Um, nothing, just…just keep doing that.”

“I thought I might.”

The Doctor spent what, to Turlough, felt like hours running his hands over the younger man’s tense body. Periodically, Turlough would twist to either side, trying to bring his erection into the briefest contact with something. He’d had no success and it was driving him mad. Turlough growled as sharp teeth nipped at the back of his neck, and fingernails raked across his lower abdomen. A hand hovered above a patch of wiry auburn hair. “Damn it, what are you waiting for?” Turlough demanded.

He felt the Doctor’s smile against his shoulder blade. “For you to ask,” he replied.

Turlough rolled his eyes and sighed loudly in exasperation.

The Doctor laughed. “I thought you knew how this game was played. I tie you up and do as I will. If you want something, anything really, you must ask.”

“Argh. Apparently we’ve played in different leagues. See, in my game, you’d have your hands on my cock by now.” Turlough’s impertinence earned him a flick on the ear. “Ow!”

The Doctor chastised him. “Don’t be crude. And do not presume you know what I want unless I tell you. I said you must ask.”

Turlough took a deep breath and bit his tongue to keep from cursing at the Time Lord. “Please touch me,” he whispered. “I want you to touch me there.”

In an instant, the Doctor’s hands were on the fronts of Turlough’s thighs, pressing firmly against taut muscle. Turlough could feel the wool from the Doctor’s vest scratching against his back through his shirt. Turlough had hoped to feel the other man’s groin pressed into his buttocks. I don’t even know if he’s hard! Dammit I want to know if he’s as turned on as I am.

In a moment, Turlough stopped worrying about the status of the Doctor’s desire and focused again on his own urgent need. Nudging Turlough’s thighs apart, the Doctor cupped his balls in one hand while drawing small patterns on his skin at the juncture of leg and groin. Turlough leaned back, laying his head against the blond’s shoulder again, reveling in the pure sensual pleasure of another man’s hands on his private parts. Turlough’s arousal reached a feverish peak as the Doctor rolled his testicles back and forth in his palm.

“Do you want more?” The Doctor sounded as if he were truly not aware of what Turlough wanted at that point.

“Yes, yes, please. More.”

Making a ring with his left thumb and index finger, the Doctor gripped the base of Turlough’s length tightly, steadying it while he ran the thumb of his other hand across the dark, swollen head. Moans burbled up out of Turlough’s throat, and he pushed his hips forward. The Doctor continued rubbing in tight circular motions over the increasingly sensitive tip.

It felt good, but it wasn’t enough. “Ughn,” was all he could say in protest. The Doctor removed his hands.

“What was that? Shall I stop?”

“No - hell no! Keep going...” Turlough struggled to speak coherently. “I-I want you bring me off,” he hissed.

The Doctor’s hands returned Turlough’s groin. This time he used his palms to stroke along either side. Again the contact brought pleasure, but not enough friction to end his torment.

“It’s good to know that I’ve brought you that close to the edge, Turlough. But I like having you there. I don’t think I’ll push you over just yet.”

Abruptly Turlough felt a hand thrust roughly between his buttocks and reach between his legs. Two fingers stroked firmly the tough strip of flesh between his scrotum and anus. It was just too much.

“God- stop torturing me!” Turlough cried. “I need…I need to…”

“To what?”

“Shit!” Turlough cried out. “I can’t remember the word in English!”

Chuckling, the Doctor made a suggestion. “Say it in your own language.”

Turlough complied, repeating his desperate need in a husky, guttural tone.

“Mmm, that is a nice turn of phrase.” He detached himself from Turlough’s anatomy temporarily and unfastened the straps around Turlough’s right hand. He guided the freed hand to its owner’s groin. “Make yourself…” The Doctor did his best to pronounce the Trion word Turlough had used.

With a snarl, Turlough turned his head. “Are you serious?”

The Doctor placed his hands on Turlough’s shoulders, holding him still. “Very. Of course, if you don’t want to, I could fasten you back up and leave. I’m sure the swelling will go down eventually.”

“No!” Turlough yelped. “I’ll do it.” It burned him to want the Doctor so much and be denied, but he needed release too badly to pass up the opportunity. Breathing hard, he closed his fingers around his needy organ. Turlough let his head loll to the side as he began stroking himself. Spurred on by the sound of the Doctor’s breath quickening, Turlough increased the pace.

The Doctor placed his fingers alongside Turlough’s temples and tilted his head forward. “Watch,” he commanded. “I’m watching you. I want you to see what I see.”

Somehow Turlough found the presence of mind to ask, “What do you see?”

“A schoolboy with his penis in his hand,” the Doctor taunted. “A man, driven by lust, and bent to my will.”

The beautiful darkness in the Doctor’s voice pushed Turlough closer. He tightened his grip, panting as he spoke. “When I had the stranger, I imagined it was you…on your knees in front of me.” He heard the Doctor release a ragged sigh. “Then I went to that house and paid a man to take me…twice. I called him ‘Doctor’.” Turlough heard a growl from behind him as fingers dug into his shoulders. So close…so close…

The Doctor’s voice was heavy in his ear, practically in his head. “Do it, Turlough” he urged. “Make yourself cum. That’s the word you wanted. Show me how you cum.”

Turlough’s body began to shake and his eyes screwed shut reflexively as the explosion ripped through his body. He felt viscous fluid pump out over his fingers in time with loud moans.

The Doctor wrapped his arms around Turlough’s waist and embraced him tightly, his harsh exhalations hot on Turlough’s neck. He supported his companion's body against his own as he hurriedly undid the strap on Turlough’s left hand, letting the redhead slump back against him, shuddering.

Soon, Turlough opened his eyes, and saw the Doctor’s looking down at him with a sweet smile. He assessed the situation. ’m half-naked, sticky, and getting cold. What now?

Before he could ask out loud, the Doctor held up two fingers. “Clean this up. Clean yourself up. Don’t talk to me about it for two days.” He got to his feet and walked away without a backward glance. Turlough yawned and enjoyed being stress free for a few minutes before he mopped up the evidence of his relief. It’s going to be an interesting forty-eight hours.

---

The Doctor dashed to his room. Leaning against the closed door he tore open his trousers and reached inside to grab a hold of himself. A few rough thrusts into his own fist were that was needed to propel him to the same border between madness and sanity Turlough had just crossed. Loud grunts expressed his animalistic pleasure.

As he slid to the floor the Doctor realized he had no idea what he was going to do next. Should I should stop; tell him it was a terrible mistake, a lapse in judgment? I can’t. His need threatens to engulf me more every day. He’s so willing, so wonderful. Two days, I have to wait two whole days? What was I thinking? It was too good. I want him again now. No, I have two days to set some ground rules. That’s it; rules will keep this from getting out of control.

Unbound Chapter Three - Time for some smut

Wed, 03 Jan 2007 01:21:04 GMT

Title:Unbound
Categories(?):Smutty goodness, a touch of romance, humor, angst, BDSM
Rating: Starts out R, but by Chapter 3 we'll be in NC-17 territory. Did I mention that there will be bondage..and discipline?
Pairing: Five/Turlough

Unbound - Chapter Three (The Doctor tunes in)

When both his companions retired to their rooms for the night, the Doctor was again free to pursue his own interests without them underfoot. After a few hours, he returned to the library and busied himself rearranging old books, and listening to recordings of Draconian opera. Gradually, his mind wandered back to the recent discussions he’d had with Turlough. The Doctor couldn’t help but be amused by the urgency in the young man’s tone as he spoke about what in some circles might be considered ‘kinky’. Being tied up by your lover is hardly outrageous compared to some of the activities the rest of the universe engages in. He wondered why so many intelligent beings attached feelings of shame to their sexuality. Sex was a normal part of life for the majority of species in the universe -even Gallifreyans.

The Doctor took a deep breath and sighed. Yes, well, most Gallifreyans. Yet again, my path diverges from the others. Over the course of the evening, he had become aware that a strange, irritating sensation had taken up residence in his chest. Determined to ignore this phantom, he hummed along with the tenor chorus, but the more effort he put into forcing the unfamiliar feeling out of his conscious thought, the faster it rose to the surface, insisting that it be acknowledged.

Finally the Doctor stopped the music and turned his attention inward.
I don’t feel ill. Simply odd. Like there’s an itch someplace I can’t reach.
Folding his left leg underneath his body, he settled into his favorite chair and closed his eyes, trying to remember when, or if, he’d experienced that particular sensation before. Then, it dawned on him. Oh, now I remember. Desire- to touch and be touched - simple. He felt a bit foolish that it took so long to catch on to what his body was trying to tell him. Again, he marveled that, in this incarnation, he frequently experienced a curious detachment from his physical being. It had been useful on more than one occasion; while meeting his other selves for example, but at the moment the feeling was decidedly unpleasant. The body, it seems, will no longer be ignored.

Making his way to his room, the Doctor felt strangely anxious, realizing that he’d given this new body only the most cursory examination when he first acquired it. He’d intended to go back later and explore in depth its strengths and weaknesses; likes and dislikes. It just happened that he’d always found something more important to do. Well, then, I suppose there’s no time like the present.

As he disrobed with near robotic precision, a strange thought occurred to him. When was the last time someone tried to rip my clothes off? He paused, standing in the middle of his bedroom clad only in his socks, trying to remember. Hmmm, must have been a while then. Was it the last me, or the one before? As if an invisible key had been turned in an unseen lock, a memory was released, and the Doctor smiled. Oh yes. That was a memorable UNIT Christmas party.

The Doctor stood in front of a full-length mirror and looked himself over. I appear to have the usual complement of appendages. Of course, I knew that already. I’d have to be pretty unobservant not to notice a couple extra fingers or toes this long after regeneration. Hmm, almost no hair on the chest. That’s different. Probably why I don’t need to shave as often. But I do need a haircut again. How ever did I stand having that mop of curls? Didn’t my head get hot?

Why am I stalling? I didn’t come here to choose a new hairstyle. Yes, fine, well it appears I have hair in the other usual places. Darker though. What is it they say on Earth? Something about the carpet matching the draperies…what an odd metaphor.

The Doctor’s mind continued to wander off course until the reason for his standing nude in the middle of the bedroom reasserted itself. Fine. Let’s see if I remember how to do this. Why wouldn’t I? I’m being ridiculous. I’m certainly not the only being in the universe doing this tonight. I’m probably not even the only one in the TARDIS.

The Doctor stopped himself cold. He didn’t allow the thought of either companion doing anything to themselves to form completely. No, no, no. Find something else to think about. That Christmas party, for example.

The Doctor closed his eyes and recalled the pertinent details of that evening. In his minds eye, he saw a lovely human woman with a bright smile who had been looking at him with that look in her eye all night. No matter how much eggnog he’d had, the Doctor knew he could not blame intoxication for what had transpired.

Indeed the pleasure of pursuit is heightened by memory of times one was caught.

He’d allowed her to lead him to someone’s empty office. She hopped up onto the desk like a cat and knelt on the blotter. Pulling her dress up over her head, she tossed it aside as if it were a useless rag. That was all the encouragement he’d needed. He could remember closing his arms around her, pulling her body to him. He kissed her. Her tongue was warm in his mouth, and the rest of her body burned him through his clothes. She pawed at the front of his ruffled shirt.

It took Herculean effort to pull back, to limit her contact with his body. Despite her arousal, she would no doubt notice the difference in his racing pulses, and the last thing he needed was for the woman he wanted so badly to run away screaming. He preferred to make her stay and scream. The only concession he could allow was the removal of his jacket.

Bracing her with one hand against the small of her back, he encouraged her to lean away from him. He could see all of her that way; all the important parts barely covered by sheer material. He traced the vertical line of her sex with his index finger as he covered one breast with his mouth. She moaned. It was a lovely, almost musical, sound that made him shiver – then and now.

Her scent permeated the room, affecting him more deeply than alcohol ever could. Without a word he dropped to his knees and bathed her with his tongue, soaking the already damp front of her panties. When she shuddered and put her small hands on the back of his head, he knew he she would accept this act as his only offering. He vowed to give her so much pleasure she wouldn’t care that he wouldn’t…couldn’t…do to her what she thought all men wanted.

In the present, the Doctor was dimly aware of one hand roaming across his abdomen, testing the sensitivity of his flesh, while the other traveled downward, taking hold of his rapidly growing organ. He felt tense and good. Ahhh, yes. Now I remember. In the dreamlike haze of memory, the Doctor reimmersed himself in the sensations experienced by his third incarnation.

Pulling aside ruined fabric with his teeth, he plunged his index finger inside her. She bucked in surprise, but he held her fast, keeping her hips tilted forward as he inserted a second finger. His tongue lashed at the critical bundle of nerves while he moved his hand away, then back, and away again. He drowned in the smell, the taste, and the sounds she made. He didn’t need to touch her mind to know she was lost in ecstasy.

“Oh, God!” she’d cried, her body trembling. He was torn between prolonging the sweet torment and pushing her toward completion. Finally, the need to make her lose control completely won out. He thrust his fingers into her deeply and sucked at the apex of her slit. Reflexively she tried to pull away, but again he prevented her escape as she rode a wave of need and gave in to her own pleasure.

It was over too quickly. He held her while she recovered, kissed her tenderly, and helped her dress. He never saw her again.

Back in his current body, the Doctor stumbled backward until he was sitting on his bed. He was vaguely annoyed that despite stroking himself rather vigorously he had not…finished. I would have thought the rather long break between now and the last time I did this would speed the process, not hinder it. I suppose I’ll just have to think of something else.

As he had commanded, the Doctor’s memory offered up another situation for him to relive, just as vivid as the first. Oh yes. She was lovely. Bright and cool, with scales that shimmered in the moonlight. Come to think of it…am I sure it was a she? Reptilian species do keep one guessing. He stretched out on the bed, bending one knee and placing a foot flat on the mattress to give himself just a bit more leverage. What about that curious feline species? Wicked claws and delightful tails.

The Doctor lost track of time as he recalled of a stunning array of sexual experiences with partners of various species. Turning over onto his stomach, he felt sweat bead across his back as he thrust himself against the duvet, reveling in the different level of friction. Still it seemed he could not push himself over the edge, and it was becoming terribly frustrating. He had long passed simply wanting to have an orgasm. Now he needed to experience one.

Eyes shut tight, he reached far back into the past. To home. Tapping the debauchery of his reckless youth, the Doctor found a memory that promised to scratch his itch perfectly. It brought with it just a touch of embarrassment that melted away in an instant as he could not deny the delightful effect it had on his body. He felt strong and powerful; completely in control.

A lithe frame strained against carefully arranged restraints. A soft voice pleading for release, begging to be spared further torment. “Please…please don’t tease me anymore! Theta, please, I’m so hard.”

The Doctor growled, his chest rumbling with the sound. He ground his hips into the mattress. I want…I want…mouth…not his mouth. He shuddered with need. I want something in my mouth. Oh Rassilon, I remember now.

The hazy images and phantom sensations came into sharp focus. He’d dropped to his knees, gripped his lover’s buttocks and buried his face in the man’s crotch. “Yes!” cried his captive as the young Doctor wrapped his lips around his lover’s straining penis.

Unable to deny the nature of his need, the Doctor shoved the first three fingers of his left hand into his mouth with such force he gagged. That reflex triggered another wave of delight as he remembered how his lips had stretched to accommodate this particular partner.

The insistent pressure in his abdomen made the Doctor aware that he was finally going to achieve his goal. With one final thrust his current body and past pleasures were joined. He howled with relief.

Later - he couldn’t be sure if it were minutes or hours - the Doctor rolled over onto his back. Oh my. He was at a loss for words to describe the intensity what he had experienced. I haven’t felt like that in…oh hell, I don’t know and I don’t care. As his breathing, and heart rates, returned to normal, the Doctor stumbled into the shower to rinse off the physical reminders of his unusually strenuous solitary activity. After the steam had cleared from the room, the Doctor found himself staring in the mirror. Why do I think I would look any different? Perhaps because I feel different. It’s probably just post-coital - well, post-orgasmic - euphoria.

The Doctor reflected on the particular memory that had helped him over the edge. So long ago. I’d almost forgotten him, and the others; the wonderful games we played. I didn’t realize I missed them so much. The Doctor looked in the mirror again, seeing his own thoughtful eyes looking back at him. Is that what this body wants? Honestly, I shouldn’t refer to my body like some entity that I don’t own. Well then, is that what I want? Maybe.

He pushed back from the sink and found himself a dressing gown. Covered again he felt more comfortable. As he replaced the sheets on his bed, the Doctor resumed his inner dialogue.

What am I so bothered by this memory? Is it the renewed attraction to my own gender? No, no surprises there. Is it the memory of…oh dear I can’t even remember his name…and the tying up? Yes, that’s it. I’ve tried to be more egalitarian in my intimate relationships since then. Of course, on occasion, I don’t mind being a bit aggressive, when it suits my partner. I thought I’d outgrown that desire for control. I’ve seen power misused so terribly; to manipulate people, keep them cowed or enslaved. I despise being bound and ordered about. It chafes my very being.

But I know I’ve never forced anyone to do anything. My partners’ submission was their choice. I was never cruel or unfair to anyone I exercised dominance over. Punishment, if one could call it that, was sparingly applied, even if it was warranted. Sometimes it was even requested. It’s actually terribly exciting. I really do miss that. I’d almost forgotten. Too often of late, I have felt wretchedly out of control. Perhaps it’s time to reacquaint myself with my own strength and power.

Inevitably his thoughts returned to Turlough and their most recent frank conversation. Oh yes, that is problematic. He was rather adorable all tied up like a package waiting to be opened. Argh, I mustn't think of him like that. Even if he is awfully handsome, and fun to be with. I simply couldn’t. How could I be sure he isn’t acting on a mistaken belief that he deserves to be abused? He certainly seems to be able to differentiate between giving up control and being robbed of it. Perhaps in volunteering, he finds a sort of strength, and considerable pleasure. He can be a bit of a hedonist, and he seems quite flexible. There are so many ways I could bind him. Then I would be free to explore that wonderfully cool skin and…oh no.

It’s going to be awkward the next time he wants assistance. Then again, I shouldn’t assume he will want more. I am perfectly capable of remaining detached. He has not expressed any attraction toward me directly. Flirtation is often an exercise. It does not necessarily lead to anything.

Was he flirting earlier? I think he must have been. If so, it was terribly clever of him to engage the olfactory aspect of attraction. He does smell wonderful. Dear me, the trouble with things that smell good is eventually one wants to taste them. I’m going to have to tread carefully. But if he makes an offer, how will I respond?

Repeatedly reassuring himself of his ability to maintain a completely platonic relationship with another companion he was attracted to, the Doctor allowed himself to take a short nap before getting dressed again and getting back to his usual puttering around.

Unbound - Chapter Two

Tue, 02 Jan 2007 04:10:52 GMT

FIC!

Fri, 29 Dec 2006 20:17:40 GMT

Title:Unbound
Categories(?):Smutty goodness, a touch of romance, humor, angst, BDSM
Rating: Starts out R, but by Chapter 3 we'll be in NC-17 territory. Did I mention that there will be bondage..and discipline?
Pairing: Five/Turlough

Author's notes: I want to credit the awesome fic, Self Control,by uktechgirl as my inspiration for this story. Many thanks to the author herself for her encouraging comments.

I love the Five/Turlough pairing. I love bondage and smut. Hence this story. Thanks in advance for reading and muchas smoochas for comments.

As always, I am grateful for the assistance of my super beta babes and LJ co-pilots:nnwestand dark_aegis

Unbound-Chapter One

Tegan was the first to notice the change in Turlough’s demeanor. He’d been positively chatty from his first day on the TARDIS. Tegan remembered watching his lips move while he prattled on. Sometimes she believed she could almost see the words being spun into the cloak the little sneak used to hide the truth; or, perhaps, hide from it himself. And while being freed from the influence of a malevolent entity had definitely calmed Turlough, it hadn’t shut him up. If anything he’d become more willing to speak his mind. Often, Tegan was just as likely to be irritated by his opinionated utterances as worried by all she was sure he was holding back.

So when Turlough stopped speaking more than two words at a time to anyone, Tegan knew something was wrong. Stepping neatly into the role of concerned older sister, she began questioning him, probing, seeking the cause of his withdrawal. Turlough rebuffed her at every turn, straining the fragile bonds of their tentatively forged alliance. Tegan tried not to take it personally. Clearly Turlough was a troubled young man in need of guidance, and to his credit, he did occasionally apologize when he’d been very rude.

To Tegan’s dismay, the Doctor seemed content to wait for Turlough to come around. After a week of bitter glances and near arguments, she pestered the Time Lord to take action. “You have to talk to him,” she pushed. “He’s moping around worse than when there actually was a black cloud hanging over his head”

The Doctor remained aloof. “Tegan, I share your concern, but it will do no good to press him. If he feels threatened, he’ll only retreat further. He’ll talk when he’s ready.”

Though she was aware many people considered patience was a virtue, Tegan also knew that it was something that had never put down solid roots within her. After the Doctor’s latest vow of non-interference, she did her best to give Turlough breathing room. Then, three days later, she saw something that convinced her waiting was definitely not a good idea. Tegan marched to the TARDIS control room and wedged herself between the Doctor and the console to ensure she had his full attention. Tapping one high-heeled shoe on the floor for emphasis, she demanded he get involved. “We tried it your way, and it’s only gotten worse. Now we have to do something. Doctor, I’m afraid he’s hurting himself.” Tegan saw her anxiety mirrored in the Doctor’s eyes.

“What makes you say that?”

Tegan bit her lip. “I think he’s got bandages on his wrists. It’s hard to tell since he wears that stupid blazer all the time lately, but earlier I swear I saw something bunched under his sleeves. And he’s walking funny; stiff, like he’s pulled a muscle.”

The Doctor muttered what might have been a curse under his breath. “He must be in greater distress than I thought. You’re right, Tegan. We can’t let this go any further. I’ll put the TARDIS down someplace safe, and perhaps you should make yourself scarce first thing in the morning.”

Though relieved, Tegan hated to admit defeat. “I wanted to try and pull it out of him myself. But he gets all twitchy around me. Maybe he’d be more comfortable talking to, you know, another bloke.”

“I’ll do my best,” the Doctor promised.

The next morning, the TARDIS materialized on what the Doctor assured Tegan was a quiet, perfectly safe planet popular for its dual suns and miles of seashore. Having gotten up early, Tegan headed out the door with a beach bag and a pocket full of what she hoped the Doctor had correctly guessed was the local currency.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” she said, squeezing his arm and wishing him luck.

---------------------

After Tegan’s departure, the Doctor prepared himself for what was likely to be a difficult conversation. Though he liked to think he understood people, the Doctor was forced to admit that, in his present incarnation, he was just a tad unsure of himself, which did make gauging the thoughts and emotions of others more difficult. He sometimes wondered if fate had conspired to bring him together with a challenge like Tegan, and a mystery like Turlough, just so he would have a chance to improve his people skills.

The Doctor would admit that he enjoyed figuring out what made his companions tick, and Turlough was no exception. Though for the moment, curiosity regarding the origins and motives of his would-be assassin was set aside as he focused on the well being of his friend.

Turlough was in the kitchen, picking at a grapefruit half in a disinterested manner. Seeing the Doctor in the doorway, Turlough sat up straight in his chair and tugged self-consciously at his sleeves. “Good morning,” he said, trying to sound cheery, and failing miserably.

The Doctor made polite noises, observing that Turlough looked very tired; not haunted as he once had, simply haggard. “Tegan’s off exploring on her own today,” the Doctor told him. “You’re welcome to do the same, but I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Oh?” Turlough’s eyes flitted away.

Considering the talk was long overdue, the Doctor thought a direct approach would be best. Clearing his throat, he began. “Turlough, I’ve been meaning for some time to tell you how much Tegan, and I, have come to value you as a friend and traveling companion. I’ve told you before that you can come to me with any problem you might have. However, at present, I think I should simply ask you what’s wrong.”

Turlough shifted in his seat, and placed his hands flat on the table-top, staring at them intently. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Frowning, the Doctor persisted. “No, you’re not. You’re far too quiet. You’re not sleeping, and probably not eating, either. Clearly something is troubling you. As I’ve said, under normal circumstances, I would prefer it if you approached me when you felt comfortable, but as I have reason to believe waiting is no longer advisable I must force the matter. Tell me what’s wrong.” The Doctor’s tone was firm, and though he could see a touch of fear in Turlough’s eyes, he was determined to get an answer.

Turlough pushed back from the table and stood up, quickly turning his back to the Doctor. “I’m fine,” he insisted weakly. “Just not hungry, and I don’t feel like talking.”

It struck the Doctor that, for once, Turlough was a totally unconvincing liar. Crossing the room, the Doctor laid a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “You can trust me,” he said quietly.

Turlough shivered, as if chilled by an imaginary wind. Abruptly, he moved to exit the kitchen, but the Doctor, having anticipated his flight, caught Turlough’s wrist. Turlough cried out in pain and contorted his body, trying to pull away. The Doctor immediately relaxed his grip, and moved his hand upward to settle his fingers firmly on Turlough’s elbow.

“Let me go,” Turlough pleaded, still refusing to look the Doctor in the eye.

The Doctor did not yield. “No,” he said simply, pushing Turlough ahead of him out the door, and steering him down the corridor. “To the infirmary, now.”

Once they reached the brightly-lit, sterile, room that served as the TARDIS’ sick bay, the Doctor directed Turlough to the edge of the examination table. “Please,” Turlough whined. “Just leave me alone.”

The Doctor had no intention of allowing Turlough to isolate himself further. “Sit down, and take off your jacket,” he instructed. He was careful to keep his tone even and non-threatening, while making it clear he would not tolerate refusal. To his relief, Turlough complied, though the young man’s muscles remained tensed. He looked ready to break away and run the first chance he got. The Doctor pulled up a chair and slipped on his glasses. Moving slowly, he took Turlough’s left arm, extended it, and turned it so the palm faced upward. He then unbuttoned the cuff of Turlough’s shirtsleeve and rolled it up his arm, revealing a gauze bandage.

The Doctor scowled, angry at himself for missing such an obvious sign of distress. He retrieved a pair of scissors from a tray of instruments beside the table and cut the bandage away to expose a jagged abrasion that encircled Turlough’s wrist. The Doctor examined the wound carefully. It was not deep, but no doubt painful. He located a dermal regenerator in a nearby drawer and got to work repairing the damaged skin.

“I didn’t know we had one of those,” Turlough whispered, breaking the silence.

The Doctor glanced up at his companion’s clouded expression and asked pointedly, “If you had, how many times would you have used it by now?”

Turlough’s flinched. “Not many,” he mumbled sullenly.

The Doctor went on. “Was this an accident?”

Turlough shrugged. “Sort of.” Though his expression and body language spoke of his continued desire to escape, Turlough did not resist as the Doctor moved on to treat the other wrist.

“Metal would likely have cut more deeply, and canvas or leather would leave neater edges, so that leaves rope,” the Doctor speculated.

Turlough clenched his free hand into a fist, and then released it in silent acknowledgement.

“So I’m going to need to treat your ankles as well,” the Doctor concluded. Turlough gave the Doctor a questioning look. “How did I know? It stands to reason that if your hands were bound, then so were your feet.” Turlough sighed, and drew his legs to his chest, rolling up the legs of his trousers. “Why?” the Doctor inquired gently, as he repaired more damaged flesh.

His brow furrowed, Turlough seemed to be formulating an acceptable response. “It comforts me,” he said finally.

The Doctor snorted lightly in disbelief. “You find pain comforting?”

He was rewarded with the hint of a smirk. “Not pain necessarily,” Turlough replied. “The restraint.”

“Ahh, I see. So you did not intend to injure yourself?”

“Not at all. It turned out to be more difficult to get undone than I anticipated and things got…rough.”

Mindful of the private nature of the activity his companion had been involved in, the Doctor proceeded cautiously with his inquiry. “I see. No doubt in the past you had assistance with this sort of thing. Presumably you found the experience pleasant, else you would not have tried recreate it on your own. Still, these injuries are fresh, and I suspect your mood has been dark for longer than you’ve had them. So I shall ask again. What is bothering you? What would cause you to be so careless with your safety that this was the result?”

Turlough’s head drooped until his chin touched his chest. The redness in his cheeks spread to the tips of his ears, and rushed to meet his hairline.

“Perhaps this isn’t the best place to continue this discussion,” the Doctor suggested as he stood up and pushed the instrument tray aside. Then, as an afterthought, he asked Turlough quietly, “You haven’t wrapped anything around your neck, have you?”

Turlough huffed. “I’m not that stupid.”

The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief. “Good, let’s reconvene over tea.” Though clearly not happy to have the discussion continue at all, Turlough followed the Doctor back to the kitchen without protest.
--------------------------------------------------------

The Doctor removed his coat and laid it over the back of his chair. He motioned for Turlough to take the seat opposite him. The pair sat in silence for a few minutes, hands wrapped around their respective mugs.

“I suppose you want me to apologize,” Turlough said at last.

The Doctor smiled. “Apologize for what? You were the one who was injured. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t,” Turlough protested. “It’s a personal matter. I don’t talk to people about my…anything, really.”

“I know, but it might do you some good to make the attempt. Keeping everything bottled up is what brought us here today. I’d like to move forward. You don’t have to be ashamed of…”

Turlough nearly growled. “I’m not ashamed,” he spat. The Doctor sensed he had touched a nerve. “What I do in private is none of your business.”

“Normally I would agree, but the health and safety of my companions is my concern. In this instance, I believe I have more then enough justification to pry.”

“I can handle it,” Turlough asserted, his eyes pleading to be let off the hook. The Doctor remained impassive, communicating to Turlough that more information was required. “I’m not human,” he groaned, as if that explained everything. Then, heaving a dramatic sigh, he said in a hushed tone, “I am entering my second maturation cycle.”

“Hmmm,” the Doctor murmured, trying to remember if he might have heard particular phrasing somewhere before. Humanoid species followed similar paths of development, but the stages by which they made the journey from infant to adult were by no means uniform. “So, you are no longer an adolescent?” he ventured a guess.

Turlough’s nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply. “I am an adult,” he said through clenched teeth. “I have been for years.”

Quickly, the Doctor sought to defuse the redhead’s temper. “I’m sorry, Turlough. I meant no offense. I’m aware that you are older than you may appear…or sometimes behave. I was merely seeking a frame of reference. Please, enlighten me.”

His hackles lowered somewhat, Turlough began a cagy exposition. “Our cycles, as we call them, do not coincide with the transition from childhood to adulthood as neatly as is the case for humans. However, the second cycle is similar to human puberty in that it marks the onset of fertility.” Turlough paused, color rising to his cheeks. “It should have begun some time ago,” he said ruefully. “Probably delayed by Earth’s wretched atmosphere. I was afraid it would never happen for me.” Regret transformed swiftly into anger as Turlough declared, “It was hell being trapped at that school! There was no one like me; no one I could talk to. Where I’m from, a male can share with whomever he likes - with as many as he likes. On Earth, finding someone to…pass the time with was hard enough, but I managed. Here, I have no one.” Turlough slumped back into his chair and sipped his tea, trying to hide his face behind the cup.

“You are speaking of sexual partners?” The Doctor asked bluntly.

Turlough nodded, and then grimaced. “Don’t try to lecture me about how I should have shown more restraint while immersed in a less-advanced culture,” he said defensively. “I had no idea how long I was going to be stuck there, forced to play human, trying to adhere to their archaic social conventions. They had the nerve to treat me as if I’m the one who’s strange.”

The Doctor interjected, “Turlough, it’s not my place to criticize the choices you made during your time on Earth. It was a difficult situation and you did as you thought best.” From the redhead’s bewildered expression, the Doctor surmised that Turlough had expected disapproval rather than sympathy. He thought perhaps if he mentioned his own exile, it might put his companion more at ease. “I’ve spent some time on Earth having to ‘play human’ myself. I agree that it is not easy. But this is about you. Please continue.”

Turlough stared at him, evidently trying to process this revelation. He leaned forward. “Did you?” he asked, looking at the Doctor with wide eyes.

“Did I what?”

“Did you…you know…with them?”

Not having anticipated that particular line of inquiry, the Doctor rubbed his hands together nervously. “Ah, that’s a discussion for another day,” he said, determined to steer the conversation away from his past, and some of the choices he’d made. “If I understand what you’ve said correctly, you are experiencing some frustration as a result of the lack of…intimate companionship, shall we call it, since you started traveling with me?”

“Yeah,” Turlough said, looking a bit relieved. “That about sums it up. It didn’t help that for a long time I wasn’t entirely sure that I was ever really alone, what with you-know-who screaming in my skull whenever it suited him. Doesn’t exactly put one in the mood for personal recreation.”

The Doctor hid a smile behind his mug. He feigned naiveté, hoping to draw Turlough out. “How did you decide tying yourself might be useful as a form of stress relief?”

“I did know some humans, who weren’t completely awful,” Turlough confessed, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one would overhear him admitting to anything less than utter disdain for humankind. “I happened to make the acquaintance of one who liked tying people up. I found that I enjoyed it immensely. As we’ve just covered, recently, I have found it difficult to be…without. The onset of the second cycle has had a rather potent impact on my drives.”

The Doctor found it amusing that Turlough was trying very hard to censor himself. He wondered why his companions assumed he would be shocked to learn they enjoyed sex. While the Doctor pondered whether he ought to do something to avoid giving the impression that he was an innocent despite his age, the floodgates opened, and Turlough continued speaking. “I…want it more strongly than usual, and more often. Obviously I thought I could take care of things myself, but no matter what I never feel better for very long. My nerves are shot, and I only have so much stamina. I thought perhaps if I tied myself up it would help, and for a short time it did. But almost right away I could feel the need returning, even stronger than before. I pulled the ropes tighter, which didn’t help, and when I couldn’t free myself right away I got angry. I ended up struggling, and, well, you saw the result.” Turlough took several deep breaths and relaxed, looking as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

The Doctor considered Turlough’s comments carefully. “It sounds like a terribly difficult thing to go through alone,” he remarked. “You should have said something. If you’d come to me…”

Turlough scoffed. “We’d have had this humiliating conversation a week ago, and I would be no better off.”

“That’s not necessarily true, and I’m very sorry you find this difficult to talk about. It’s a perfectly normal part of…”

“If you say ‘growing up’, I will smash this mug over your head,” Turlough said, scowling.

The Doctor chuckled. “Sorry. Truly I don’t mean to be patronizing. However, I do have the benefit of a few centuries worth of experience with this sort of thing.”

“Bondage or talking to companions about their alien sex practices?” Turlough was starting to seem like his usual irreverent self.

“Would you please stop interrupting? I’m trying to tell you that suffering in silence does not confer any sort of nobility. You caused me, and Tegan, a great deal of anxiety, thinking you’d deliberately harmed yourself.”

Turlough groaned. “She keeps asking what’s was wrong with me,” he lamented. “I can’t tell her. I just can’t. I have this awful feeling she would want to help me.” The Doctor shot him a puzzled look. Turlough narrowed his eyes. “I mean help me. And, well, I don’t like girls.”

The Doctor blinked. “I’m aware of that,” he said matter-of-factly.

Turlough stared at him, apparently stunned. “You are?”

The Doctor nodded, waving his hand dismissively. “Yes, and I’m certain your fears with regard to Tegan’s motives are baseless. You really ought to give her more credit. Now, if I’m going to try help you figure out how best to deal with this, I’m going to need to ask a few more delicate questions”

Sighing, Turlough threw his hands up. “I’d say I don’t want your help, but the truth is I don’t want to need your help. Since I’ve made myself clear on that subject and you’re still here, I should probably stop fighting it and let you meddle. What do you need to know?”

The Doctor was pleased to have worn down yet another stubborn opponent. “Tell me, when you engaged in sexual activity with human partners, were you tired immediately after orgasm?”

“Er, no, not usually.” Turlough’s face scrunched as if he were trying to figure out a difficult math problem.

“But your partner would be?” the Doctor prompted.

“Sometimes. If there was time they’d doze off for a bit.”

The Doctor couldn’t help rolling his eyes slightly. “You know, most people try not to put a time limit on that sort of thing.”

Turlough seemed too eager to share his experiences. “Now that you mention it, the times I was actually in a bed with someone, he would drop off rather quickly afterward. I assumed it was normal for humans. Isn’t it?”

“If the stories I’ve heard are to be believed, it’s more common for human men, but by no means universal. I’m guessing you felt no such drain, rather the opposite?”

Turlough became animated. “Yes, yes I did. I’d be tired later, but not right away. Rather useful since it allowed me to slip away if I didn’t feel like pillow talk. Well, unless it’s about how great I was.” He stopped, looking a bit guilty. “You don’t need to know any more about that, do you?”

“Not really, but it’s illuminating nonetheless. Turlough, how much psychic ability do your people possess?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

The Doctor couldn’t tell if Turlough was being secretive, or he simply didn’t know. “Do you know when someone is trying to touch your mind?”

“Like the Black Guardian, or Captain Wrack?”

“Those were mental assaults, I’m sorry to say. You’d have to be dead to not feel that. I mean…well…could I demonstrate?”

Turlough looked at him warily. “How?”

“I’m just going to send out a little communication thread. Just a ping to see if you can hear me, so to speak. I won’t enter your mind, or hear your thoughts.”

The redhead frowned. “I suppose, provided you’re quick about it. I don’t like people mucking about in my brain.”

“I understand completely. I’ll be brief. If you would give me your hands.” The Doctor stretched out his hands on the table top. Tentatively, Turlough slid his palms over the Doctor’s.

“Should I close my eyes or something?”

“If it makes you more comfortable.”

“Since you’re staring at me in a peculiar manner, it does.” Turlough shut his eyes.

“Try to visualize water; the calm surface of a pond for example. It might help.” The Doctor kept his eyes open, but focused them on a spot on the wall behind Turlough’s head. He sent out a sliver of mental energy and hovered just outside Turlough’s mind, gently probing the edges. Though he was not a true empath, the Doctor could sense the emotion churning just below the surface of Turlough’s thoughts. *Turlough* he thought his companion’s name, and then waited for a response. There was a muddled murmur, then a rush of sound that wasn’t truly sound.

The Doctor carefully studied Turlough’s face. From his almost serene expression, one might think he was enjoying a pleasant daydream. In a sudden rush, the Doctor mind was filled with the image of a raging sea; raw energy and passion with nowhere to vent. He felt a tug at his mind, and quickly slid his hands out from under Turlough’s.

A soft sigh passed through Turlough’s slightly parted lips. Then his eyes snapped open and he resumed his typical half-smile. “Well?”

The Doctor breathed evenly, trying not to let his companion see that he had been affected. “It’s as I suspected,” he said in his most somber tone. “You are bubbling over with energy, physical and mental, that you are not accustomed to. Perhaps with a partner of your own species, there would be some sort of exchange. You wouldn’t be aware of it because to you it’s perfectly normal. A human can’t offer the same level of psychic involvement, so there’s a slight energy drain from them, which in turn gives you a small boost. It may also explain why you are unable at present to…satisfy yourself. Either the energy is not escaping, or you are unable to draw it back inside and rechannel it for some other purpose. In short, your body is satisfied, but your mind is not.”

Turlough sighed. “Thanks for the diagnosis, Doctor. Now what do you prescribe?”

“If I have guessed correctly, and the problem is that you require the assistance of a second party, there are any number of places you could go to find suitable company. Given the size of the city we’re visiting, I’m certain you could find any number of houses within walking distance of the TARDIS that cater to people with a variety of preferences.”

Turlough gaped. “Are you suggesting what I think you are? You are! You’re actually telling me to go to a knocking shop.”

The Doctor protested. “I’m doing no such thing. I am simply sharing information about our current location. How you spend your time, and money, are your business; yours and yours alone. My companions are entitled to private lives.”

Turlough rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Never seen a professional before,” he admitted. “Strictly an amateur pervert myself.”

“You’re not a pervert,” the Doctor said critically.

Turlough’s eyebrows arched, and a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. “Doctor, not five minutes ago, I confessed to tying myself up in an effort to recapture the sensations caused by the positively sinful experience of being tied up by another man - an alien by my reckoning. And it’s not as if we were discussing French impressionism while I was tied to a chair. There was all manner of…”

The Doctor held up his hands. “Spare me the details, Turlough. As pleased as I am to see that you’ve recovered your zest for life, I don’t think I need to know quite that much about your leisure activities.”

Turlough chuckled. “Doctor, I think I will go out today. However, I don’t expect that anything I do will solve problem, certainly not all at once.” Stretching his arms above his head, Turlough rubbed his wrists absentmindedly. “Thank you,” he said.

“Thank the dermal regenerator.”

Turlough leaned forward and brushed his fingertips across the backs of the Doctor’s hands. “No, thank you,” he said earnestly. “For once I’m glad someone made me talk. I’m aware that it isn’t easy to be my friend.”

The Doctor smiled warmly. “People have said the same thing about me,” he said. “Now go, enjoy your day.” He motioned for Turlough to run along.

Turlough leapt to his feet. “You realize that if Tegan finds out where I’ve gone, she’ll be scandalized.” .

The Doctor laughed, and arched his eyebrows. “How do you know she’s not at one of those places right now?”

Turlough made a face. “Ugh. That’s a mental image I didn’t want.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once outside the TARDIS, Turlough walked around the town enjoying the myriad sights and smells of a bustling seaside resort. He was surprised at how well he had handled revealing even a few of his deeply held secrets to the Doctor. It was refreshing to vent his frustration about how repressed he’d felt on Earth. Turlough was also relieved to discover that the Doctor understood the mechanics of desire, even if he didn’t show it outwardly. Maybe now I can stop pretending to be a semi-innocent schoolboy. Good thing. It was really getting difficult. Still, Turlough was amused by the Doctor’s careful handling of the subject his male companion’s sexuality.

Preferences? Silly Time Lord. I prefer it frequently, and without complication. I’ve only ever desired my own gender. I wonder though, what do you ‘prefer’? That would be an even more interesting conversation.

Meandering through the streets, Turlough’s head buzzed with pleasant anticipation. He patted his pocket, making sure he hadn’t lost the condoms and lubricant that had mysteriously appeared in his room along with the pamphlet on the hazards of sex with non-humans. Sometimes the TARDIS was eerily helpful.

Now, who am I looking for? Someone strong and handsome. Maybe blond…

Turlough stopped in his tracks, momentarily stunned by the suggestion from his own psyche.

I don’t think of the Doctor like that. Do I? He grinned.
Oh, who am I kidding? I’ve been thinking of him, or someone who looks very much like him, ever since the change began. Even though I didn’t really feel him in my mind, which I probably wouldn’t like anyway, it was rather nice to be touching his hands like that. In his mind’s eye Turlough pictured the Doctor’s hands holding his own; leading them to a sturdy looking set of shackles. That singular image filled him with a sharp ache. Turlough fought the urge to turn around and march back to the TARDIS. No, it’s too soon. If I approached him now, he’d see it as some sort of misplaced gratitude. He’d be half-right. I’m grateful. I just know a lot of different ways to say thank you. I do like him an awful lot. He might be a lot of fun to tussle with.

Turlough’s brain kicked into high gear, formulating a plan of attack.
First, I need to find someone to do obscene things to, and who may be willing to do them to me. Second, I want to get the Doctor talking about sex again, and keep him talking. If he does like men, I should be able to tell fairly quickly, and then he’s fair game. Third, I have to keep it all hidden from Tegan. The Doctor’s right that I shouldn’t underestimate her. Best keep her off balance just a bit, and I know just how to do it.

Turlough grinned like a maniac. Oh, Doctor, you’ve provided me with an opportunity for the best sport I’ve had in ages. Now then…where are these houses he mentioned?

Technology passing me by

Sun, 17 Dec 2006 04:48:55 GMT

So I've got a long fic I want to share. Like 9-10 chapters of DW smut. And it's way too long to stick behind a cut in the Gingerminx community. So I'm going to try to put it here and hyperlink. Only I'm nervous about it. I hyperlink all the time in Word or Outlook at work. Once upon a time, I even had a web page. On a UNIX server no less. Now I'm afraid that if I somehow screw up a hyperlink to my Turlough porn that means I've failed as a nerd girl. I try to give myself a little credit as I'm completely self taught when it comes to tech stuff like this. And my husband is no help. I married the goofy jokin' comic collectin', sci-fi lovin' geek of my dreams. But he's not a computer geek. He's a software tester, not a programmer. I know more HTML than him, and I know just enough to bold and italicize things. Of course, even if he did know HTML he probably wouldn't help me until I promise to write a ninth Doctor fic - with no porn! I think that's just asking too much. If I go through the trouble of getting Nine's speech patterns down then damnit, he's going to be saying something dirty.
But, I'm being brave, and actually posting to my LJ. Baby steps.