FIC: Theta/Koschei, T
Fandom: Doctor Who (Academy era)
Pairing: Theta/Koschei
Rating: T
Genre: oneshot
Warnings: A little bit of general baby!Master creepiness. Mind control.
Length: 1400
Koschei wonders what it would take to tear down every last star, trap them and offer them all, whether even that would be worthy of the hand that sits in his. He wonders if Theta would look at him instead, then, the same way he gazes like a human to their heavens on those nights.
He's treading down a staircase when he catches sight of golden hair amidst a flurry of robes. Theta's arms are tangled in his books, scrolls unfurled and dragging on the floor.
'Koschei,' he beams, slightly breathless. 'Are your classes finished?'
'Yes,' he lies, and finds a smirk to clothe his face in, directs it to the reams of paper around Theta's feet.
Theta matches him with a cheeky grin and dumps the rest onto the ground without ceremony. 'Good. Have you ever been to the old observatory?'
Koschei snorts. 'Of course. The new initiates never shut up, how it's haunted, ridiculous.'
'Want to come with me? Right before the last sunset, it shines just right through the ceiling--it's worth the walk. Promise.' Theta's so sure he'll agree, so naive, it's like it bends spacetime around his words so Koschei will always be falling inwards, his pessimism some insect trying to drag them both free. He gives the fight his all, though he knows he's already accepted.
They're walking together, out the southern gate and past the orchard, like they really do have all the time that has been promised to them. 'I still don't see what's so special.'
Theta's hand slips into his as if it means nothing to fill all those empty spaces between his fingers. 'You'll see.'
They separate; tussle, race through the grass, but they stay filled with that promise. That it could always be this easy.
Koschei is right. The observatory is possibly even more boring than class and he's seen light dance far more impressively, he's curved it around mass, he's rent it asunder with nuclear fission.
Theta kisses him then, a firm, soft press against his lips that lingers too long for novelty and too short for pretence.
He realises he must be gaping like an idiot and forces his face back to cool impassivity when Theta stammers 'It's--it's a Sol-3 custom. When you care about someone. Like your friend.'
The light casts hues of purple and deep red across the wild shapes of Theta's hair, plays off the silver leaves where nature has tried to reclaim crumbling marble and his eyes shimmer bright from the inside out. Suddenly, it all seems so vivid, so real, it can only be a dream.
'It's beautiful,' he says, nodding to the coloured glass of the oculus. The smile he offers Theta is genuine.
/
More nights than Koschei would like, he returns to an empty room, Theta's bedsheets askew and study still untouched where he'd left it days ago. He always feels uneasy as he searches, his hearts a bit too loud, his stomach too tightly wound, like he's some child.
Thankfully Theta is easy to find, he's written equations on the subject when bored in class; the night air buffeting his robes on the top of some tower, legs swinging over some balcony.
Koschei's watched him more than once and he stares, fixated at the great crimson-black unfolded over the sky, the little dots of burning matter they can name and classify and date.
Theta will tell him often enough on his own, but he's asked, once. 'Aren't they beautiful, Koschei? How many worlds do you think there are, out there?'
He can't see the appeal. Theta has always burned far too bright to make out anything else among that roiling, nebulous darkness. Koschei wonders what it would take to tear down every last star, trap them and offer them all, whether even that would be worthy of the hand that sits in his.
He wonders if Theta would look at him instead, then, the same way he gazes like a human to their heavens on those nights.
/
The first time they try it, Koschei knows he'll never get enough of that feeling, when the world cinches in and spirals down to just the two of them and all the places their skin and minds touch, this forbidden thing. That only moment when he is the sole thought in Theta's mind, their pleasure so intertwined he can't find where his euphoria ends and their orgasm begins.
Theta's body is a vessel, a tool. It's always been his mind, and Koschei knows this is happiness, this is goodness, when Theta makes his mind a gift that exists only to belong to him, with such certainty it rewrites every other truth he's ever held.
/
It frustrates him that Theta doesn't see things how he sees. Taming Theta is not something to be taken lightly, but Koschei is a Time Lord with the weight of the entire universe laid before him. Fighting for what is good instead of standing by and watching it be stripped away is the one thing they do share, and he has been taught nothing if not to aim high, goes for the most important thing of all.
So it's the most important thing that he starts with. He scolds Theta, doesn't let him copy off his work. Despite Koschei's best efforts, Theta never manages more than spits of performance, the barest minimum required to thwart the professors' admirable attempts to kick him out of the Academy for good.
He knows Theta is probably the best mind in the entire chapter and watches it wasted on stargazing and the minutiae of inferior races. Eventually it's no longer his brilliance that's wasted and neglected - but Koschei's faith.
The nights Theta is absent, Koschei spends more often than not throwing himself into his studies. It gets him nowhere, gains him none of Theta's notoriety.
It doesn't stop him missing classes to run together.
/
Koschei gets better and better at keeping him. The only moment stretches into many moments, into every spare moment. There are hours and then days when he is Theta's only coherent thought and the world disappears entirely, because Time is also his, so it can become theirs. He learns the power of fear, of pain; the intoxication of taking rather than waiting to be given, the security of knowing he never has to go without it again. The concepts realign themselves, lose their meaning amongst the only meaning that's ever mattered.
It doesn't matter if there are some nights nothing will stop him crying. Koschei usually spends the night up when they're done, even though Theta prefers to fall asleep immediately, and he likes the change of holding him.
/
One day, they steal a bare-bones TARDIS, designed for instruction only, and their late-night projects pay off when they make it off-world, a non-descript place of rocky cliffs and thin shoots of grass.
It doesn't last long, but Theta kisses him with such abandon Koschei feels his life pouring through where their mouths lunge and claw each other open. Their minds are only brushing together as they pull back for breath, but when the world swells back and forth to equilibrium, the sunlight isn't white but every colour at once.
They fall back into the gravel, the feel of it digging into Koschei's back where his robes are skewed, every last grain of silt and point of stone. They laugh eddies into the scent that hangs thick in the air of this new world.
/
Koschei, of course, takes all the blame, by his own choice. The Inquisitor who investigates the indiscretion is a tiny man, prone to rattling anecdotes as if he's trying to force a regeneration out of sheer boredom. His mindscape is nothing like Theta's, all clipped and barren, shapes predictable and parallel. He makes it all too easy to know where to clamp down and sever entire sections of consciousness with the force of his will alone. He bends more easily than Theta does, his begging is by no means satisfying enough to stop.
It doesn't matter if Theta is hurt when he finds out. Koschei is wise enough now to know that hurting him is always better than losing him.
The incident gains them celebrity, which turns out to be an advantage. Koschei's charm earns them popularity, like some kind of fever blindness, where every scandal they unleash upon the Academy is skewed by a respect that is entirely new to them both. It's power, of sorts, and he makes the most of it to keep Theta from falling into harm's way.
If Theta ever notices the barest wisp of his will Koschei prefers to impress when interacting with his peers, he never questions it.
Pairing: Theta/Koschei
Rating: T
Genre: oneshot
Warnings: A little bit of general baby!Master creepiness. Mind control.
Length: 1400
Koschei wonders what it would take to tear down every last star, trap them and offer them all, whether even that would be worthy of the hand that sits in his. He wonders if Theta would look at him instead, then, the same way he gazes like a human to their heavens on those nights.
He's treading down a staircase when he catches sight of golden hair amidst a flurry of robes. Theta's arms are tangled in his books, scrolls unfurled and dragging on the floor.
'Koschei,' he beams, slightly breathless. 'Are your classes finished?'
'Yes,' he lies, and finds a smirk to clothe his face in, directs it to the reams of paper around Theta's feet.
Theta matches him with a cheeky grin and dumps the rest onto the ground without ceremony. 'Good. Have you ever been to the old observatory?'
Koschei snorts. 'Of course. The new initiates never shut up, how it's haunted, ridiculous.'
'Want to come with me? Right before the last sunset, it shines just right through the ceiling--it's worth the walk. Promise.' Theta's so sure he'll agree, so naive, it's like it bends spacetime around his words so Koschei will always be falling inwards, his pessimism some insect trying to drag them both free. He gives the fight his all, though he knows he's already accepted.
They're walking together, out the southern gate and past the orchard, like they really do have all the time that has been promised to them. 'I still don't see what's so special.'
Theta's hand slips into his as if it means nothing to fill all those empty spaces between his fingers. 'You'll see.'
They separate; tussle, race through the grass, but they stay filled with that promise. That it could always be this easy.
Koschei is right. The observatory is possibly even more boring than class and he's seen light dance far more impressively, he's curved it around mass, he's rent it asunder with nuclear fission.
Theta kisses him then, a firm, soft press against his lips that lingers too long for novelty and too short for pretence.
He realises he must be gaping like an idiot and forces his face back to cool impassivity when Theta stammers 'It's--it's a Sol-3 custom. When you care about someone. Like your friend.'
The light casts hues of purple and deep red across the wild shapes of Theta's hair, plays off the silver leaves where nature has tried to reclaim crumbling marble and his eyes shimmer bright from the inside out. Suddenly, it all seems so vivid, so real, it can only be a dream.
'It's beautiful,' he says, nodding to the coloured glass of the oculus. The smile he offers Theta is genuine.
/
More nights than Koschei would like, he returns to an empty room, Theta's bedsheets askew and study still untouched where he'd left it days ago. He always feels uneasy as he searches, his hearts a bit too loud, his stomach too tightly wound, like he's some child.
Thankfully Theta is easy to find, he's written equations on the subject when bored in class; the night air buffeting his robes on the top of some tower, legs swinging over some balcony.
Koschei's watched him more than once and he stares, fixated at the great crimson-black unfolded over the sky, the little dots of burning matter they can name and classify and date.
Theta will tell him often enough on his own, but he's asked, once. 'Aren't they beautiful, Koschei? How many worlds do you think there are, out there?'
He can't see the appeal. Theta has always burned far too bright to make out anything else among that roiling, nebulous darkness. Koschei wonders what it would take to tear down every last star, trap them and offer them all, whether even that would be worthy of the hand that sits in his.
He wonders if Theta would look at him instead, then, the same way he gazes like a human to their heavens on those nights.
/
The first time they try it, Koschei knows he'll never get enough of that feeling, when the world cinches in and spirals down to just the two of them and all the places their skin and minds touch, this forbidden thing. That only moment when he is the sole thought in Theta's mind, their pleasure so intertwined he can't find where his euphoria ends and their orgasm begins.
Theta's body is a vessel, a tool. It's always been his mind, and Koschei knows this is happiness, this is goodness, when Theta makes his mind a gift that exists only to belong to him, with such certainty it rewrites every other truth he's ever held.
/
It frustrates him that Theta doesn't see things how he sees. Taming Theta is not something to be taken lightly, but Koschei is a Time Lord with the weight of the entire universe laid before him. Fighting for what is good instead of standing by and watching it be stripped away is the one thing they do share, and he has been taught nothing if not to aim high, goes for the most important thing of all.
So it's the most important thing that he starts with. He scolds Theta, doesn't let him copy off his work. Despite Koschei's best efforts, Theta never manages more than spits of performance, the barest minimum required to thwart the professors' admirable attempts to kick him out of the Academy for good.
He knows Theta is probably the best mind in the entire chapter and watches it wasted on stargazing and the minutiae of inferior races. Eventually it's no longer his brilliance that's wasted and neglected - but Koschei's faith.
The nights Theta is absent, Koschei spends more often than not throwing himself into his studies. It gets him nowhere, gains him none of Theta's notoriety.
It doesn't stop him missing classes to run together.
/
Koschei gets better and better at keeping him. The only moment stretches into many moments, into every spare moment. There are hours and then days when he is Theta's only coherent thought and the world disappears entirely, because Time is also his, so it can become theirs. He learns the power of fear, of pain; the intoxication of taking rather than waiting to be given, the security of knowing he never has to go without it again. The concepts realign themselves, lose their meaning amongst the only meaning that's ever mattered.
It doesn't matter if there are some nights nothing will stop him crying. Koschei usually spends the night up when they're done, even though Theta prefers to fall asleep immediately, and he likes the change of holding him.
/
One day, they steal a bare-bones TARDIS, designed for instruction only, and their late-night projects pay off when they make it off-world, a non-descript place of rocky cliffs and thin shoots of grass.
It doesn't last long, but Theta kisses him with such abandon Koschei feels his life pouring through where their mouths lunge and claw each other open. Their minds are only brushing together as they pull back for breath, but when the world swells back and forth to equilibrium, the sunlight isn't white but every colour at once.
They fall back into the gravel, the feel of it digging into Koschei's back where his robes are skewed, every last grain of silt and point of stone. They laugh eddies into the scent that hangs thick in the air of this new world.
/
Koschei, of course, takes all the blame, by his own choice. The Inquisitor who investigates the indiscretion is a tiny man, prone to rattling anecdotes as if he's trying to force a regeneration out of sheer boredom. His mindscape is nothing like Theta's, all clipped and barren, shapes predictable and parallel. He makes it all too easy to know where to clamp down and sever entire sections of consciousness with the force of his will alone. He bends more easily than Theta does, his begging is by no means satisfying enough to stop.
It doesn't matter if Theta is hurt when he finds out. Koschei is wise enough now to know that hurting him is always better than losing him.
The incident gains them celebrity, which turns out to be an advantage. Koschei's charm earns them popularity, like some kind of fever blindness, where every scandal they unleash upon the Academy is skewed by a respect that is entirely new to them both. It's power, of sorts, and he makes the most of it to keep Theta from falling into harm's way.
If Theta ever notices the barest wisp of his will Koschei prefers to impress when interacting with his peers, he never questions it.