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there's something so exciting about being flung through space and time in a blue box. something I couldn't set my finger on, but it was… exciting .
clearly the doctor thought so, judging from his smile - like a child discovering dinosaurs for the first time. the doctor's probably seen real-life dinosaurs. that thought brought me back to being a little kid and reading about the big beasts in the school library.
i watch his face, the twinkle in his eyes and the child-like grin and… just the pure and unadulterated joy radiating from this alien. oh.. yes, i'd nearly forgotten. the doctor's alien . an alien from a foreign planet with a secret name and a language that looked like circles and wonderful geometric patterns. those circles were letters and he could understand them, he could read them and understand them.
for me, looking at gallifreyan was like trying to understand chinese; it hurts my head if i look at it for too long and when i told the doctor that, he told me to "stop looking." as if it were that easy. i wanted to learn, wanted to see what he saw, wanted to read what he read.
i hold on tight to the tardis, the machine taking us through time and space - the blue box. she's magnificent, and i tell her all the time. that she's perfect and beautiful and dare i say... sexy. all her lights and little sounds she makes when i compliment her are adorable. (so far, no, i don't think the doctor's caught me talking to her yet.)
the tardis stills and the noises stop, the doctor quits moving and flitting about like a mosquito, stilling himself. he stays like that for a moment before hopping in the air as a victory celebration to himself.
"flying will never cease to amaze me, doctor," i say, standing up straight and ruffling my hair, meeting his eyes.
he looks high - eyes wide and excited, brain(s) probably wondering what the outside looks like, where we landed.
the doctor is a very attractive man, messy hair and bright eyes and tall and slim, a brown pinstripe suit hugging his figure snugly, and dirty converse shoes on his feet. he's told me once that sometimes he doesn't really wear clothes, just passes an illusion that he is to my eyes and honestly, that thought hasn't left my mind.
after all, who'd be able to forget that a very, very attractive man had told you that sometimes he doesn't wear clothes? and he goes out in public like that? nobody, that's who.
especially me, as my one-track mind is never able to think about anything else than this man who hangs out with me on purpose . damn. legends only, i guess.
the doctor places a hand on my shoulder, effectively shaking me from my thoughts. he looks at me, grin wide.
"ready to see what's out there?" he asks, walking me to the door.
this is always the most heart-racing part - opening the tardis' door and seeing what's out there. aliens, an abandoned spaceship, pre-revolutionary france (which, apparently really happened to him.)
- ••
after the doctor runs inside, i slam the door shut, pressing my full body weight against it, trying to deter the oncoming forces. the doctor moves around the center console, pressing buttons and pulling levers. soon enough, the tardis makes her signature noise that she's taking off.
eventually, i don't feel the door thumping against me anymore, so i hesitantly let off it. nothing comes barging through. i let out a sigh of relief, and the doctor laughs breathlessly.
"what did you do to piss them off so much!?" i ask him, walking closer. the tardis ride is a lot smoother this time around.
the doctor looks offended. "what did i do!? what did you do when i was gone?"
"nothing!! why's it always my fault?"
"why's it always my fault, then?"
"because you're the doctor , it's like… it's like annoying dangerous aliens is in your dna!"
the doctor scoffs, trying to find words to spit back at me, but unable to. instead he sticks his tongue out at me. i do the same.
eventually, i tackle him and kiss him, letting his body cushion our fall onto the metal floor. he grunts with the force and puts his hands on my waist, where my body curves into my dreadful hourglass shape.
he hums, "there it is.. was wondering when it was gonna come."
i run my fingers through his hair - always fluffy and soft, although it looks like it should be greasy or crispy - and tell him to shut his mouth. he grins and kisses me. his hands grip my shirt tightly, wrinkling the fabric.
i ignore that and focus my energy on kissing him. apparently having two hearts beating away in his chest means less space for lungs because he breaks the kiss a lot more often than an asthamic band kid who plays a wind instrument. i give him time to catch his breath, kissing his neck and pulling him up into a sitting position so i can pull off his suit jacket. unbuttoning his white dress shirt, i pull that off too.
i kiss down, over his sharp collarbones, down his chest, kissing his hips. i focus bites on his hipbones, running my palms down his legs. long, long legs. i can only imagine how those limbs would look, wrapped up around a set of opposing hips. i can only imagine how the doctor would look taking , instead of giving .
mhmm, too bad i'm a bottom. how pretty the doctor would look in my position, though. what a shame.
he mutters something one of the languages i don't understand, running his deft, clever fingers through my hair. the language is rough, gravelly and low, rumbling in the pit of my stomach and echoing in my ears.
i lean back up, kissing his lips again, pressing our torsos together. he bites my bottom lip gently, cupping the back of my head and coaxes my mouth open.
are you sure your lungs can handle a kiss like this, doctor? i want to ask, but that would require, taking my lips off his and that's not something i want to do. ever. i never want to stop kissing him.
i want to make a noise, moan or something , but i don't. i want to make him make a noise first, the doctor, moaning like a high school girl. or like an alien timelord, making out with a human being from the united states of america, planet earth.
and sure enough… he whimpers, rutting his hips up against mine. hm. maybe i'm not as much of a bottom as i thought. he seems desperate, hands travelling and touching and never ceasing to move.
i want him to beg, beg for me, beg for me around him, beg for that sweet, sweet heat around him. although, i guess one can't do much begging with their mouth occupied.
i break the kiss and immediately he says, "please.." as if my lips were a plug, silencing him.
"please what, doctor?" i ask, wickedly, dipping back down to his neck and sucking marks on his skin.
soon, purple and blue splotches litter the doctor's normally pale skin, now flushed and obviously bruised.
"touch me? touch me, please, i…" the doctor whimpers, running his hands over my clothes and trying to dip his fingertips into the waistband of my ripped jeans. "i need it."
"mm… need's a strong word," i murmur, pausing my attack and pushing him back down flat.
"i have a strong need," he responds weakly.
i chuckle and take off his shoes. undoing his pants' button, unzipping them and yanking them down off his legs. i run my fingers up his legs, and over his hard dick, straining through his boxers. i can tell the fabric prison is uncomfortable, but i don't feel like letting him go yet, so i ask him…
"what is it exactly you so desperately need , doctor? do you want my mouth on you…" i demonstrate by shoving four of my fingers in my mouth and sucking on them filthily, "or do you want to be inside me ?" i demonstrate, again, by rotating my hips and watching the tortured expression on his face.
he truly does look tortured, a prisoner to my games and his black boxers. the doctor's mouth open and closes, eyes wide, dark and clouded with a kind of arousal i haven't seen in them before. before, his eyes would be dark, yes, but in a wicked sort of way.
perhaps mine carry the same former glow his had before this sudden change of events. i'm sure my eyes have looked like his do now in the past.
"well? you have to choose," i remind him, pressing my palms onto his thighs, spreading his legs.
"your mouth, please," the doctor answers, "then inside?"
i smile. "perhaps. we'll see."
his boxers join the small pile of his clothes, a brown pinstripe pile of his clothes. his dick lays flat against his stomach, slightly above average, earth-wide. putting aside the statistics, his cock is gorgeous, all proper things in their proper place. and honestly, that's all i could ask for.
i lean down and lick up the underside, gently taking the thing in my mouth. the weight is good, nice and heavy. i've never considered myself a size queen, but i can see why people can prefer a bigger dick - especially if that dick belongs to an outer-space alien . i have an alien's dick in my mouth (and not for the first time).
the doctor - i assume - curses again, in a language that sounds like music. lilting tones and dulcet undertones. i'm sure it sounds beautiful coming from a native speaker, but for now, i'd prefer if he used the language we both spoke, just so i know how i'm doing.
granted, i'm a great cocksucker. guys from college often told me that before kicking me out of their dorm.
i feel his hands in my hair, directing my head - and mouth, by association - gently. i let him guide me, letting him control this part; my eyes closing and dutifully sucking on every up-stroke.
he moans, something about how good it feels, how warm my mouth is, how close he is.
the first time we slept together, it was spontaneous, up against the door of the tardis - the one that doesn't open. it was rough and fast and over far too soon. i still don't know what brought it on.
since then.. well, i guess we've been in a friends with benefits relationship.
"oh, fuck," he groans, arching his hips and his pace stuttering.
quickly, before he can finish, i swat his hands away and pull off his dick, watching his face tighten and his body squirm. it's frustrating, being deprived an orgasm, especially if you were so close to one. trust me… i would know, since he's pulled that trick on me several times.
he already looks wrecked, hair sticking up all in every which way, his chest heaving and his body covered a thin, glistening layer of sweat. do timelords sweat? apparently.
"good boy…" i hum and he whines, pawing at my clothes. i laugh quietly and start stripping. watching him watch me.
the thing is, my body is… more feminine than the traditional guy. for example, instead of a dick, i've got… something… else… down there. and although i got my lady-chest removed some years ago, i haven't gotten surgery downstairs yet, and i'm not sure i'm going to.
anyway, the doctor likes me and my weird body and that's all that matters to me.
i straddle his hips and get ready to lower myself down. once i do, and he's inside, i let out a soft moan of his name.
he puts his hands on my hips, helping me set the pace and helping me rise and fall. on every down-stroke, i grind onto him, gyrating my hips.
i put my hands on his chest, feeling both beats on his two hearts, beating quickly and out of sync. he's not the hairiest man, which isn't a bad thing, but he definitely isn't hairless either, which also isn't a bad thing. he's right in the middle. his chest's got a light dusting of light brown hair and his treasure trail, inexplicably, is a darker brown.
even though i don't have to, i shave, just because it makes me feel better. or, i guess, i wax more often, since it lasts longer than shaving does. (the doctor doesn't, obviously, it's not something he thinks about and he definitely doesn't have time to.)
the doctor makes a soft noise, probably telling me how good i am, how wet it is, or something like that. i don't listen, putting a hand over his mouth. he looks at me, eyes wide. the only evidence left of his milk chocolate irises is the thin ring of color around his blown pupils.
i lean down, kissing his collarbones and lazily fucking my hips onto his. experimentally, i slip a finger into his mouth and he, much to my surprise, sucks on it. suddenly, i understand why seeing someone suck on your fingers is hot. i put another finger in his mouth and he grabs my wrist with one of his hands, the other still on my hip. he doesn't grab me to stop me, but presumably to have an anchor.
i'm still rising off his dick and falling back onto it, and he suddenly moves his other hand to rub against my t-cock, making me gasp and stutter in my pace.
"jesus, doctor, warn a guy next time, huh?" i say, and he gives me a pointed look, glancing at my wrist in his hand. "i guess you're.. fuck , i guess you're right."
he manipulates my fingers, putting a third into his mouth and his eyes close. those long, dark eyelashes flutter against his cheek, resting against high cheekbones.
he whimpers and the sound sends a tingle down my spine, straight to my dick. the doctor pauses in his sucking on my fingers to take my fingers out of his mouth and kiss my palm and up my arm, pulling me down to kiss me. his hands run up my back, back down to my hips, guiding me again.
"i'm close," i murmur into his mouth, and he nods, running a hand through my hair. i lean into his touch.
"me too," he says, quietly.
the doctor's hips stutter in their rhythm, his hands guiding my own hips. i don't usually ride, but i also don't usually top when we do this. i can feel his lips against mine, even thought we aren't kissing, we're just that close.
i come, moaning his name and grinding down on him, riding (ha) my orgasm out, and when i finally get enough brainpower back upstairs, i get off his dick. replacing that with this , my mouth. within seconds, i've got timelord jizz in my mouth and down my throat.
the doctor pants, chest heaving, and i lay on top of him, my head on his chest. a hand comes and rests in the middle of my back.
"how'd you like that, doctor?" i ask, running my fingertips down his arm and lacing my fingers with his. "me, on top?"
he smiles lazily, and answers, "eh, it was okay."
after i give him a look, he smiles wider and says, "okay, fine. you did great. really liked it when you put your fingers in my mouth… do that more often, yeah?"
"are you serious?" i ask him in disbelief.
he laughs and we continue talking, floating through space in a blue police box.
***
i sit at the door of the tardis, watching stars fly by. the door is swung wide open, but i have the doctor's brown overcoat around my shoulders. sometimes, when we travel, i sit here, door open, watching the stars and planets and even, rarely, other spaceships whizz by. i lean against the closed door, yawning.
"maybe you should get some sleep, love," the doctor suggests from the console. he hasn't gotten fully dressed either, boxers and an unbuttoned dress shirt.
"in a…" i yawn again, having trouble keeping my eyes open. "bit…"
i'm only half-asleep when the doctor comes picks me up, carrying me to a bedroom. he kisses my forehead, then my nose and then, finally, my lips and i kiss him back. exhaustedly. perhaps, but still.
"come to bed, yeah?" i ask. when he doesn't answer, i grab his wrist, and say, "please?"