Unbound, Chapter Four
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.
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.