Perfect Manic Sex - chapter 3b
It seems this was too long for one post.
His body decided for him. He strode over to the tiny cubicle, throwing the door open. Missy started and squealed, arms crossing over her now bare chest. She had been touching herself, fingers rubbing between her legs. “Get out,” she hissed, pink with embarrassment.
“I'm freezing, and I'm not letting you shut me out,” he retorted, stepping over her discarded nightgown to force his body into the too-small space. “You know we aren't finished yet.” She retreated before him into the corner at first, eyes locked on his proud cock, then seemed to decide that she wasn't going to let him push her around, practically pushing her breasts into his chest in defiance, which had the pleasing effect of also capturing his erection between their bodies momentarily. She pressed herself against the wall, eyes wild. She was the one who wanted to run now.
He folded his body down into the space in front of her, ignoring the way his knees were screaming at him as he knelt with his face at her apex, lifting his eyebrows. “We could just give your body what it wants, you know,” he told her as he arranged her right leg over his left shoulder. He ghosted his fingertips over her swollen, needy sex, through surprisingly ginger curls. Auburn, that was the color. She shuddered:
“We have plenty of time yet to rut like animals dear,” she assured him as he pressed a kiss to the junction of thigh and mound. She wasn't quite mentally ready for that eventuality even as her body was already screaming for it.
“That's not what I meant,” he whispered, his mouth millimeters from her folds. His mind was screaming at him to take her roughly, dominate, impregnate. He wondered if he would be able to see his cock nudging her belly from the inside as he pounded into her, then distending as he pumped her full of her cool seed. He nuzzled and kissed at the tender flesh just above her auburn curls, trying to imagine how she would carry once she grew gravid. Missy's hands wrenched his face away from her waist, tearing at his curls.
“You really want to have another go?” she asked, incredulous. Her surprise was palpable. Most time lords only had children while in their first or second form, just as they had done. A pair of children to replace a pair of parents, which they had failed to accomplish. Though things had probably changed after the War; wars were wont to cause baby booms, even in time lord society. But things hadn't exactly gone well their first time around having a family. Disastrous would be an accurate descriptor. He shrugged:
“If you like. It's not like we're going anywhere for the next thousand years, is it?” He was lying. His mind on the matter was not exactly reliable on the subject at the moment, but he was decidedly for the idea of planting a baby in his wife's belly.
She tsked as he continued teasing her sensitive skin, pressing kisses to her lower stomach first, then lower, lips ghosting across swollen netherlips, teasing, causing her to tremble against him. Her fingers tugged at his hair almost painfully. Her swollen yoni was partially spread, its three folds flaring in an attempt reveal her sex, hot and pink. Her clit jutted insistently towards him, mostly erect but still partially hooded, looking raw and painful. He blew across the leaking pink tip, and it jerked in anticipation. He laved the blunt, round nub, pressing his chin against her lower labellum, nudging. Missy tilted her hips, pressing her clit forward, into his mouth, whimpering as he kissed it, open mouthed. He worked her foreskin with his tongue, getting it good and wet, easing it back, then sucked earnestly once the tip slid free, stroking her frenulum rhythmically with his tongue. Her clit swelled in response to the stimulation, becoming fully erect. Her size was impressive, lengthening to nearly fill his mouth, about four inches in length he estimated, and notably thick to match. The tip was seeping with her salty nectar, which he lapped at eagerly, hoping to encourage her to express more, sucking hard on her tip again when that didn't work. Missy shuddered, tried to force him to take all of her in, perilously close to the edge.
The Doctor released her clit with a salacious pop and dug his nose into Missy's leaking crevice before licking her from arsehole to base of clit. Her hips jerked, and he grabbed them with his hands, holding her in place against the wall as he started to lick at her straining folds, paying special attention to her labellum and entrance, completely ignoring her clit for now. She let go of his hair just long enough to flick his nose hard:
“Stop fucking around,” she demanded.
“Patience,” he scolded. “As much as I'd like to fuck you until you're cross-eyed right now, I'll wait until your body is good and ready.” She whimpered, sagging slightly into his hands as he began to dominate her sex with his mouth. Her yoni fluttered and pulsed, opening further to him, and he dipped two fingers into her dripping wet heat, testing, watching her as she gradually came undone beneath his ministrations. She whimpered, body still tight and new, unused to the stretch, her entire body tight like a bow ready to be released. He worked his fingers in and out of her sex gingerly, spreading her dripping juices, coaxing her body open further, humming against her labellum as he worked her aching, needy vagina around his digits. When Missy started to rock against his fingers he added a third, stroking her soft inner walls as they fluttered sporadically against the welcome intrusion.
“You're bluffing,” she insisted, trying and failing not to moan, hands lifting to tug at her own hair now. “You'd never let me raise a child, corrupt it.” She moaned louder, quickly forcing herself to suppress the sound. She hated being vocal unless it was for theatrics and since there was not a chance in hell that anyone could hear them she was being as quiet as possible. He took it as a challenge.
Her clit was an angry purple now, standing proudly above her flared sex, looked painfully hard. He blew his warm breath across it. She whimpered and sank further as he insinuated his free hand between her arse and the wall, palm pressed to her receptors as he slipped his lips around her clit and held her in place against his face. He bobbed his head, undulating his tongue, taking her in as deeply as he could. The sounds she made next were inhuman, high and needy and desperate. Her cunt clenched around his fingers, body caught between trying not to collapse against him completely and squirming to keep him at that spot deep inside that she so desperately needed. Her folds spread even further, allowing him to dip his face even closer, mouth opening wide to take her clit as deep in his throat as he could, humming and gagging against the intrusion. He crooked his fingers, pressing insistently against receptors and g-spot simultaneously.
Missy came spectacularly, expletives and moans pouring forth as she squirted and gushed in tandem. He thanked whatever gods that may have existed for respiratory bypasses as he swallowed around her squirting tip, causing his wife's supplications to lose all coherence as her mind came apart.
There were no energy waves or timelines this time. It was like a prolonged explosion of ecstasy and sensation, fireworks skittering across her entire frame, resistance and inhibitions evaporating as she succumbed. Her mind seeped into his like water filling the empty spaces in a jar full of marbles, only his jar was infinite and yet unquestionably safer than the heat-induced black hole that was threatening to rip her psyche apart. She burrowed into the recesses of his mind, pliant and submissive. Time had slowed to an eternity between racing heartbeats, and he held her safe. All fear, remorse, and enmity were forgotten, they were one being, a deep ocean of shared memory and understanding and trust.
She was the first to wake this time, to be pulled away from his mind using claws to try to hold on to the refuge she had found. He winced against the headache she was inflicting upon him, persistent even after she was wrenched away. She was crying when he surfaced, full bodied sobs rocking through her exhausted body. He eased his hand and mouth from her sex, mind registering the loss of time, body rigid as he mindlessly surged upwards to catch her in his arms and impale her on his desperate cock. He froze, still coming back to himself in slow increments. His fingers kneaded at her arse, equal parts soft and firm in his palms. He gradually became aware, as if his mind was somewhere far off and not quite connected, that he was probably bruising her, and relaxed his grip. Her cunt was quivering around his sex, it was too soon for her still. He forced his body not to move, not to take her in a rough and animalistic rut. Her mind was chaotic and fractured and his mind had been infected by her lust-induced haze.
He kissed Missy gently, his mind calling softly, inviting her back in. Her mind flitted closer like a moth to a flame, entranced and bold. He caught her face in his hands as he caught the moth with his mind, building a sparkling golden cage about it. The moth's wing's fluttered against the bars insistently, battering against the restrictive space, desperate to get free. Missy bit his lip hard, he could taste blood. He released her lips but pressed his forehead to hers more insistently, suffusing cool comfort into her raging psyche through sheer force of will. He coaxed her into a shared space of safety.
He could smell rain in the nearby desert on the hot breeze. He could hear the silver leaves rustling, warning that the rain was coming. He could feel the tickle of the long red grasses that hid them, the whisper-soft minds of mice running through their blades to burrow deep against the impending weather. Her hair was soft in his hands as he played with her curls, untucking them from the tall collar of her robes. His first self opened his eyes, eyes twinkling as he took in the sight of his lover.
Sunlight played across her round face. He had been enamored by her first form, its speed and strong, long limbs, but he was bewitched by her new body, freckled and soft beneath him. Her ginger hair matched the shade of the fall grasses almost exactly. Her yellow-green eyes glowed with an inner fire both menacing and arousing. She looked like a cat stretched beneath him, soft abdomen displayed for him to rub. He unwrapped her robes reverently, each layer falling away to reveal not the impossibly-freckled brand-new body he remembered, but delicate-porcelain skin that covered a frame almost boyish rather than voluptuous...until he got to her pert, perfect breasts. He rather preferred her this way, ice blue eyes vulnerable beneath his gaze rather than golden and taunting like a cat that had got the cream.
Why here, Doctor? she asked with the voice of her second self. She sounded so young.
This is how it ought to have been, he told her with his mind. This is the way I wanted it. He ran his fingers through her auburn-tinged curls, releasing them from the confines of her chignon. Somehow her hair grew dark brown, almost black at the roots, but a lighter redder hue below, though he knew that no one was providing her with products with which to dye her hair. Somehow she chose to grow her hair this color: for him? Not hurried or rushed but reverently and inquisitively. He began to kiss his way from her neck down her arm as he extracted it from her robe sensuously and sedately.
But I liked the library, she breathed. The memory flashed across his awareness, flickering. A dark, warm secluded space, quiet and heavy with the smell of dusty books filled with Gallifreyan history science, and art. Their mingled moans and groans doing little to muffle the painful collision of their first sexual encounter.
I like you wild and unkempt, he insisted. Not caged and restrained. The irony was not lost on him.
“But I am caged,” Missy sobbed, beating against his chest in the shower.
“I know, I'm sorry,” he soothed, brushing fingertips against her temples. Her lower body undulated against his, and she keened in pain.
“Please let me down,” she begged. “It's too much, I can't...” He lifted her by the hips, uncoupling them and held her to his chest. She was shaking like a leaf or...or a bird. He wasn't sure why that picture stuck in his mind. Maybe it was to go with the layers of cages that they were encompassed by and that she wished to fly free of.
“Missy, may I wash your hair?” She nodded her head in assent, and he set to work first cleansing her locks, but then conditioning. He finger-combed through her curls gently, untangling the knots, massaging the nape of her neck particularly. She shuddered in his arms, feverish, mind still buffeted by her body's demands. The pitch was rising in her again. He turned the cooling water off.
She let him dry her body like a child, shaking with cold or fear or desire, he was not sure which. He continued his ministrations upon her hair as she sat on her pouf, naked as the day she had been born. She seemed subdued and fatigued, was perhaps meditating. Her mind was incredibly fragile at the moment. She reached up to take one of his hands in her own:
“Can you take me to bed?” she asked hesitantly, eyes meeting his in the mirror.
“Of course,” he agreed. He moved to wash the remnants of her hair products from his hands and she wrapped a microfiber towel around her locks. They turned to face one another in the center of the room, met each other halfway with tender, languid kisses. He allowed his hands to roam her back, learning her ribs and spine. He moved to sweep her off her feet but she stopped him with a gentle yet insistent touch:
“No, wait, I need to do something first.” She took his hand and led him into the vault proper, winding her way through the dark with confidence. She knew every step of this room now, every piece of furniture. She brought him to the red chaise lounge, her fainting couch, and sat him down before her, hands insistent against his shoulders as he lowered himself. “You didn't get the vows quite right,” she told him, settling on her knees at his feet. He felt inexplicably nervous:
“I didn't?” he stammered. She ran her hands over his thighs in the dark, teasing, touch never quite reaching his aching cock. Fuck, she was going to kill him. He could see her body in the moonlight, reflecting beckoningly, but forced himself not to touch her in response. He was curious as to where she was taking this. He tried not to melt into the couch as she continued to caress downwards, towards his sensitive feet, but was failing miserably. Suddenly her hands were wrapped around his left foot in a clear declaration of intent, all movement halted as she waited in the dark. He was so shocked that he froze, valuable seconds ticking through his grasping fingers as she adjusted her position so that he could see her face, eyes shining brilliantly with unshed tears.
“If by my rending, you find relief,” she recited.
“What?” he gasped, but she kept speaking as if he hadn't interrupted:
“I will worship thee 'til break of day. For long have I desired your faith...”
“No, Missy,” he tried to stand up, but she moved to pin him down to the chair, not so much as faltering as she physically held him down.
“...Held indulgent passions hidden at bay,” she swallowed. “Restraint hath given me no relief; Your mind is brighter than the stars above.” He struggled against her grip, eyes caught in her stare, felt helplessly pinned... “I have fallen into your gravity, Cannot escape the hold I belove.” She paused then, bowing her head, breaking their eye contact.
“No, Mistress, please...”
“Consider me servant, yours to master,” she begged, voice breaking, then picking up speed. “I petition, end my torment. Forbid, and I will cease. Banish me, I will fly away. Decree, for I am at your mercy.” She clutched his foot yet more tightly, he could feel her tears dropping onto his knees. “Or if tender compassion move your mind, Allow me to remain a disciple by your side, That I may provide you air and water, My future forever...” her voice caught: “yours to guide.” The silence hung heavy between them, her tear-filled eyes lifting to find his once more in the dark. “I your servant, not your master,” she breathed at last.
Missy let go of his foot and legs, freeing him from the chair. He leapt to his feet, shoving the couch away from himself before falling to his knees before her.
“Why would you do this?” he demanded. She had never made the vow before, the vow was his, he was the one who had let her down. He was the one who had promised to stay with her forever and had run away.
“Because I need you to know...”
“I know, we're not so different,” he finished for her.
“...that I forgive you,” she was sobbing now. “I need you to forgive me, because I can't forgive myself.”
“What?” he didn't understand. He took her hands in his own.
“I broke us,” she sobbed. “I pushed you away in my grief and made you leave.”
“No,” he insisted. “No, Missy, it wasn't your fault. Don't take all this on yourself.” He wrapped his arms around her.
“I became a monster so you would look at me the way I saw myself,” she whispered.
“You did what you had to do to survive,” he assured her, cradling her to his chest. “We both became monsters when...” after all these years, he still couldn't name their loss. “I let you down,” he breathed. “I'm sorry.”
Missy pushed him back roughly, down across the soft rug that lay on the floor, mouth desperate against his. She fell upon him, straddling his lap, rubbing her sex against his straining erection. She cried out in pain, breaking off their kiss far too prematurely for his liking.
“No,” she insisted, pushing him back down. “This is wrong, not this way, I don't deserve...” she turned away to kneel on all fours, to present her flank to him, sex flaring in desperation, sending her scent straight to his already desperate cock.
“Missy,” he groaned. He threw her over his shoulder in a fireman's hold, causing her to shriek in surprise, carrying her to the bed before laying her in the center of it. “I'm not going to last very long,” he apologized, grabbing her hips and nudging forward, her labia fluttering around his member as she squirmed beneath him in desperation. Her lips flared open again and he surged forward, sliding into Missy to the hilt. She rolled her hips as he allowed his hands to roam across her majestic legs for the first time, her sex undulating around his cock, coaxing him even deeper. The Doctor groaned as hips lurched into motion, finding a messy rhythm both frantic and desperate.
Missy rose and fell beneath his, humming in satisfaction as her half-aroused clit bumped against his stomach repeatedly, leaving wet kisses against his skin, driving her mad. He wrapped one of his hands around her clit, gradually drawing whimpers out of her against her will. Her frenzy from earlier was sated, the fire was burning in him this time. He gradually increased his pace, fingers finding her hips again, almost slamming their bodies together as he pistoned his cock into her spasming sex. Fuck but she was tight around him. He watched himself impaling her, both outside and inside, his cock's tip knocking at the door to her womb and bouncing outward inside her soft stomach.
She wasn't perfectly thin and taut as he has assumed, no, she had a small roll of fat around her middle that jiggled tantalizingly with each majestic poke of his cock. He could feel his balls tightening in anticipation, strokes turning shallow as he tried to hit her where it counted, desperate for permission to find release. “Mistress,” he begged.
She took his face in her hands, running her fingers through his hair, caressing his forehead and temples, before lightly scratching at the nape of his neck, hand playing with his hair as she tangled her fingers together at the back of his neck. She threw her head back, voice possessive as she commanded:
“Come, Doctor.”
He came.
A/N: You're probably wondering where Missy's genitalia came from if not her behavior. I have long been waiting to frame some Time Lord sexy times around spotted hyena reproduction ever since I read that the females are in charge and have a pseudo-penis that her partner inserts his penis into and that she births through. The trouble is that it seems just a little too painful and awkward to be any kind of fun sexy time and would only lead to extremely painful labor times that would endanger any time lady's life. Which might make sense in a species that lives so long, actually, but just did not feel right for this.
So I almost chickened out and made this vanilla human sex sprinkled with some hyena and cat behaviors. But part of this is that I've long wondered if Time Lords could possibly have both sex organs at one time (we basically do), and didn't really want to entirely give that girl penis idea up, so I have instead gifted Missy with external genitalia inspired by orchids, a flower that does possess both male and female genitalia simultaneously. So if you're trying to picture Missy's lady bits in your head you needn't look farther than a picture of a purple orchid, the center of which features a petal called a labellum that looks like three petals to be honest (alien labia surrounding and usually covering the entrance to time lady vagina) and a prominent pistil where human women have a clit. If that makes any kind of sense. xD
I know, i have a sick mind. I hope i didn't squick anyone out too badly.
chapter 4