Ten Hours, Part 2
See first part for warnings.
They went back inside through the back door, to avoid anyone noticing them. Rickston didn’t usually care much if the papers told the world who he’d taken to his bedroom (or kitchen or pool or closet) the day before, but with the Doctor it would have seemed wrong, somehow. Beside that he wanted to avoid death-by-Harkness.
“What about your friend?” he asked when they went up the stairs, the party just noises in the distance. “Won’t he come looking for you?”
“I was about to leave the party anyway. He won’t expect me back for a few hours,” the Doctor dismissed his concerns, his voice betraying nothing. He added: “You’re neglecting your other guests.”
“They won’t miss me,” Rickston assured him. Him disappearing upstairs with one or more others wasn’t uncommon. At best they’d smile and share knowing glances when he wasn’t found. He informed his security staff though, to stop them from interrupting at inappropriate moments.
To make sure he locked the bedroom door behind them.
The soft carpet swallowed the sound of their footsteps when Rickston led the Doctor through the large, dimly lit room. He wasted no time with awkward silence. Ten seconds after the door had closed behind them Rickston gapped the Time Lord by the back of his neck, pulled him close and pressed a rough kiss to his lips. For two seconds the Doctor resisted, then he seemed to remember their agreement and reluctantly opened his mouth for Rickston’s tongue to invade. Another ten seconds later Slade pushed him onto the bed, straddling him. His fingers roamed over the other’s body, looking for the fastest way to get him out of that tuxedo.
The Doctor’s eyes widened and for one second Rickston thought he’d stop him, ask what the hell he was doing there, but then his half raised hands fell down again and he simply clenched his fingers around the covers and closed his eyes. His entire body was tense. Somehow the discomfort radiating from him turned Rickston on even more, and he suddenly realised that it was the power he craved, that there was nothing sweeter than the thought of this fascinating and untouchable man, helpless and at his mercy. He’d seen what the Doctor could do, seen how dangerous he could be, and yet here he was, submissive beneath him. Rickston stopped in his movements, leaned back. For a moment he just looked down at the Doctor, relished the sight of him so tense on his bed, angry yet powerless, and the urge to take him became nearly unbearable. But when he hands started to unbutton the Doctor’s shirt, he worked slowly instead of just tearing it off, careful that the fabric wasn’t damaged.
The Doctor needed some persuading before he reluctantly slipped his arms out of the jacket and shirt. Rickston didn’t touch his trousers yet, instead let his fingers trail down the soft skin on the inside of the Doctor’s arms. He’d often imagined him naked during the years after the Titanic - and to be honest on board of the ship as well - but now he discovered that he’d underestimated just how lean this man was, and he hadn’t been quite prepared for the coolness of his skin. Wrapping one hand around the Doctor’s wrist (loosely, playfully) he toyed with the idea of tying him up, leaving him completely defenceless, with his arms above his head and his legs spread wide open - but no. Not yet. He had ten hours to play with his man, to use and defile him. (He quite liked that word: defile. It implied power, and privilege.) Enough time to take things slowly.
For now he ran his hands over the Doctor’s chest, pinched his nipples, then bent down to lick his throat; watched the way the Doctor’s body responded to his touch, but in the end his only reaction was tensing up even more. Well, maybe not quite that human. Rickston smirked.
He licked his own fingers and then reached out to touch the Doctor’s face, smearing his salvia over the other’s thin lips like colourless lipstick. Then he leaned down to kiss him again, long and proper this time. There was no fight for dominance, not battle of tongues. If anything the Doctor’s tongue seemed to flee from his, to avoid contact as much a possible. Rickston grabbed the Doctor’s hair and lifted his head a few centimetres off the bed, the kiss turning increasingly messy. Only when he ran out of air did he break it, briefly, and whispered: “You’re mine.” The Doctor swallowed dryly but said nothing.
After letting the Doctor’s head sink back to the bed Rickston adjusted his own position until he was lying fully on top of the Time Lord, his weight pressing him down, trapping him. Rickston knew better than to think him weak, but the scrawniness of his form gave his appearance a frailty that was belied by his eyes.
The businessman quite enjoyed the way he felt beneath him. For a moment he even regretted the Doctor didn’t struggle to give him an excuse to hold him down, to exercise his dominance.
Before he got off him he viciously bit the Doctor’s throat for no particular reason. The Doctor gave a startled sound but otherwise didn’t react. Kneeling over him Rickston slapped him across the face, hard enough to split his lip. The Doctor’s eyes flew open and he stared at him with an expression of shock and betrayal on his pretty face that quite suited him. Without giving an explanation for his actions - or any further thought - Rickston moved backwards to finally unfasten the Doctor’s belt.
“Enough of that,” he decided. “I want my cock inside you.” And he did. He wondered if the Doctor had felt his erection when he’d lain atop of him. He was desperate for the contact but anticipation was part of the fun, and when he pulled the Doctor’s trousers off he did it slowly, enjoying the way the Time Lord squirmed uncomfortably, knowing what was coming for him and utterly unable to stop it from happening. Bound by his own promise.
Morals always trapped the people who cherished them in the end. That was one of the reasons why Rickston never bothered with them.
“Tell me,” he said conversationally while he peeled the socks off the Doctor’s feet. “That friend of yours - did he shag you yet? How many have had this skinny ass of yours so far?”
The Doctor only stared darkly at him. When he said nothing Rickston removed the belt from his discarded trousers and slapped it across his thighs, making him wince.
“Answer me!” he commanded. “You’re mine, remember. Do whatever I tell you or I might not feel obliged to keep our agreement.
“No-one,” the Doctor finally said. A grin of pleasant surprise spread over Rickston’s face.
“Shame,” he said, not at all meaning it - having the Time Lord in his bed was a dream come true, but the fact that he would be the fist to shove his cock into him made it perfect. “What a waste, since it’s so delightfully fuckable.”
“I fear you will find that it’s not,” the Doctor said dryly. “My species doesn’t do that. We haven’t needed that part of our anatomy for many generations. You can’t use my body that way.” He didn’t at all sound like he was regretting it.
Rickston frowned, prepared to get very angry any moment, when he grabbed the Doctor’s ankles and lifted his legs.
“Seems to me like everything’s in place,” he then said, hiding his relief beneath a layer of casualty. Still, better test it. He let go of the Doctor’s legs. “On your hands and knees, please.”
After a second of hesitation the Doctor did as he was told, and Rickston pressed his head and shoulders down until he was hunched on the bed with his arse up in the air, naked and terribly exposed. Slade quite like the sight. He grabbed the Doctor’s cheeks, kneading what little flesh he could find, before he let his hand slip between them and rested one finger teasingly on his arsehole.
When he tried to slip his finger inside, though, he found the Doctor’s words hadn’t been entirely untrue: He’d had his fair share of virgins so far, but never had he had anyone so tight that he found it hard to get even the tip of one finger into them.
The Doctor hissed into the covers, his hands clenched, as Rickston gave up his first effort and pulled his finger out again, a deep frown on his face. After a second the businessman went over to the cabinet and fetched a tube of lube, smearing it over his fingers. Back at the bed he smacked the Doctor’s arse with the belt, hard enough to leave marks.
“Relax,” he ordered.
Without preamble he tried to push his lube covered finger inside, and the cool, slippery substance made it a little easier. Still, it was difficult. He could feel the Doctor clench around him, heard his muffled grunt of discomfort. But he kept pushing until his finger was all the way in, drew it back, pushed again, until he could move it more or less smoothly in the other’s body. Then he added a second finger, which proved nearly impossible, the tight ring of muscle pressing his fingers together uncomfortably. There was no way he was going to push his cock in there - it wouldn’t hurt only the Doctor.
The Time Lord was trembling slightly when he pulled out. Rickston thought he saw his tense shoulders slump with relief at him giving up, but he would soon learn better.
Commanding his unwilling partner to stay where he was he Slade went over to the cabinet again, pulled open the drawer and let his eyes wander over the assortment of toys inside. He planned on using quite a few of them this night. For now he chose a dildo of medium size. Not as thick and long as his cock but it would be enough to prepare the Doctor, stretch him a bit, make him ready for him.
“This will never do,” he admitted when he returned to the Time Lord, still face down and unsuspecting on the bed. “So I found us another way to widen you up.”
The Doctor had thought he’d given up on that idea - Rickston could tell from the way he lifted his head to look at him, shock and fear written over his pretty features. Before he could see what the other man was doing, however, Rickston pressed his head down again.
While from his former attempts the Doctor was now slick inside and the dildo was covered in lube pushing it in was still a challenge. But Rickston kept pressing relentlessly until it was firmly inside, not caring for the Doctor’s little gasps of pain. He watched in mild fascination how the other’s areshole was stretched wider and wider until the skin tore and a thin trail of blood ran down pale thighs.
Once he was satisfied he grabbed the Doctor by the shoulders and gently moved him until he was lying on his back again. With the dildo deep inside his body the movements almost made him scream. He remained tense and curled up, but Rickston took hold of his ankles again and pulled his legs toward him, enjoying the way the Doctor was squirming on the bed, his face twisted with pain.
“Please,” he gasped between harsh breaths. “Take it out! It’s too big, please…” He was begging, just like Rickston had wanted him to. Begging and squirming, and if Rickston couldn’t fuck him soon he was going to explode. Almost mindless with desire he kneeled between the Doctor’s legs and pulled him up with one hand on his arm and one hand in his hair and this time the Doctor did scream. Rickston licked the sweat on his white face and promised: “I’m much bigger.”
The way the Doctor was panting and arching in his arms was very nearly enough to drive him over the edge. He needed to take care of his erection, right now! So he left the bed and gently pulled the Doctor with him, until the Time Lord was sitting in a heap on the floor before him, doubled over and gasping for breath. There were bloodstains of the cover, and there would be bloodstains on the carpet, but Rickston didn’t care for them when he hastily let down his trousers and sat on the edge of the bed, his legs spread.
“Suck me off!” he moaned. “Now!”
For a moment it seemed as if the Doctor hadn’t even heard him. Then he pulled himself upright with his hands on Rickston’s knees, his face just centimetres from his cock. But the look he gave him was full of disgust and uncertainty and Rickston remembered that he was new to this and probably didn’t know what to do. Under different circumstanced he would have enjoyed teaching him but right now he was desperate, and so he just ordered the Doctor to open his mouth, grabbed his head with both hands and moved his hips forward, pushed his throbbing cock between those sweet lips. The Doctor’s eyes widened when the dick filled his mouth, and Rickston moaned out loud and arched his back, somehow managing to hold back release a little longer when a cool tongue brushed against the tip of his cock.
Moaning constantly now he rocked back and forth, and in an instinctive reaction to push him out the Doctor’s tongue moved against his cock and more quickly than intended made him come. Even as he twisted his fists painfully in the Doctor’s hair Rickston thought that he’d have to do this again later, and that time do it properly.
The Doctor gagged around his dick, come running down his chin. He swallowed involuntarily and Rickston imagined his semen running down the Doctor’s throat, becoming part of his system. Eventually he pulled out and let himself fall backwards. For a moment he lay on the bed, lost in the aftershocks, then decided not to waste too much time.
The Doctor had slumped down to the floor again, panting hard with pain. Rickston pulled him up, made him kneel again - on the floor, with his raised arse toward Rickston. The businessman reached for the dildo, toying with it thoughtfully.
“Are you stretched enough yet?” he mused aloud. “Can we pull it out?”
“Yes,” the Doctor hissed through clenched teeth. Rickston smiled and pulled, and the Doctor’s body seemed to cling to it, drawing another gasp from his lips.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Slade decided, and pushed the object back in. Laughed when the Doctor’s body jerked, kept laughing while he fucked the dildo back and forth, twisted it, moved it left and right. There was still so much resistance.
All this, it wasn’t like he had imagined it. In his fantasy the Doctor had been willing, had been hot around him, not cold to the touch. He had never thought he would be so tight, but this, this was almost better than his dreams. Breaking into the Doctor’s body like this, having him unwilling but submissive at his feet while breaking him open, this was priceless.
More blood was running down the Doctor’s legs. Rickston thought that he might be a bit drunk after all, for the sight of blood didn’t usually turn him on this much.
Eventually he shoved the dildo all the way back in and left it alone. Pulling the Doctor onto his lap he did nothing for a few minutes expect savouring the way the other man was writhing against him in discomfort. Rickston moved him so his legs were on either side of his own knee, so that he felt the hard base of the dildo on the skin of his thigh, and the he started bouncing his leg. His cock was getting hard again, and that was good, because soon he’d need it.
“The first hour,” the Doctor suddenly gasped. “It’s up.”
Rickston stopped his movement with a grunt of displeasure. He reached into the pocket of the suit jacket he was still wearing and glanced at his watch. The Doctor was right: the first hour had passed just this minute. How exactly he could tell was beyond Slade, but he didn’t actually care while his cock was hardening against the Doctor’s back and he had just had such a nice idea what to do with it.
“So it seems,” he said with a distinct lack of interest and put the watch back. Reaching forward he took hold of the Doctor’s wrists and pulled them back, pushing his upper body forward in the process.
“The first one hundred prisoners,” the Doctor continued through grinded teeth. “Arrange for them to be released!”
“Still time for that later,” Rickston mumbled distractedly and found himself on his back one second later, with the Doctor kneeling above him, pressing him down.
“Now!” he hissed, his eyes blazing with anger. “Or the deal is off!”
For a moment all Rickston could do was stare at him open mouthed, not understanding how he had ended up beneath the man who’s just squirmed helplessly in is grip. Cold fear crept into his heart when he realised that he had underestimated the Doctor, that the man had only let himself be dominated because it was part of their deal - and that he might be the one in pain but Rickston was the one in danger if he didn’t play by the rules.
His fear mingled with a hint of joy. He was trembling pathetically under the Doctor’s stare and his iron grip, and he hadn’t felt this alive for years.
He nodded once, and the Doctor let him go, sat back and watched while Rickston pulled out his mobile and made a call to the office of the minister of defence - wasting precious minutes. When he was done he glanced back at the Doctor who watched him with angry defiance in his eyes. But now Rickston also saw the signs of pain still visible in his posture, reminding him who should be in charge here. He felt anger rising at the Doctor daring to reverse their roles, even for a moment. Time to remind him of the place he accepted for the night Rickston decided (while inside he was still trembling, aware that he was playing with fire), threw himself against the frail looking man and wrestled him to the ground, his hands rough and his knees poised to bruise.
He couldn’t restrain himself, and he didn’t want to. After punching the Doctor in the face two times and kneeing him in the stomach he turned him around so he was lying face down on the bed. With difficulty he reached for the dildo and yanked it out in one quick movement, somewhat surprised by the amount of blood that followed. The Doctor bit back a scream.
He didn’t fight back once.
Driven by anger as well as the need to prove himself as the one in control Rickston pushed two fingers inside, testing - no. Still too tight. Something else, then, and he knew exactly what would be appropriate right now.
After removing his tie he wrapped it tightly around the Doctor’s wrists, binding them behind his back. He had better restraints than that in his collection but for now it would do. Going to the cabinet once again he took a few things out of the drawer and placed them on the bed. The Doctor eyed them wearily, said nothing. Didn’t protest when Rickston made him kneel on the floor again, between his legs, when he presented him with his half-hard cock and once more took hold of his hair.
“Do as I say,” Rickston ordered. “It’s about time you learned this properly.” The Doctor’s gaze remained defiant and disgusted, but he never hesitated to do as he was told, keen on keeping his promise for the sake of others. There was something arousing in the way he gave himself up so completely. Rickston groaned with pleasure when the Doctor’s tongue moved along the length of his shaft, when he licked his balls, when he closed his lips around the tip and sucked, his cheeks hollow, his tongue never still. He learned quickly, and Rickston was hard again, so hard, but he didn’t want to come just yet. The Doctor had angered him. He would not make this easy for him.
Just before it became too much for him he pulled back, reached for the dildo lying on the bed and made the Doctor expose his arse to him again. The Time Lord swallowed, trembling slightly but did as he was told, a willing sacrifice on Rickston’s altar.
The dildo he had chosen was larger than the last one. He had toyed with the idea of shoving it inside without any lubrication but that just wouldn’t work. So he smeared the slippery substance over the object, and still the Doctor stopped breathing when he pushed the tip inside. But that was it. Rickston stopped right there, the dildo just an inch inside the Doctor’s body. Instead of forcing it in further he positioned the Doctor on his knees before him once again, with the end of the dildo touching the floor. The position this forced the Time Lord to maintain was highly uncomfortable: low enough to suck Rickston’s cock, yet straining to keep himself from sinking too low, thus pushing the dildo in further, and his bound arms didn’t help. He looked miserable and Rickston loved it.
“Mine,” he mumbled. And pushed his cock into the Doctor’s mouth. And kept pushing until the head hit the hard palatal. And pushed further. The Doctor made a strangled sound when the hard penis slit into his throat, blocking it completely. Rickston relished the movement of the tongue against his flesh when the Doctor gagged, loved the way the windpipe constricted around him. The Doctor’s eyes where impossibly wide and he didn’t look defiant anymore.
Just disbelieving and scared.
Slade could feel him tremble against him, helpless as he wanted him to be. He reached behind himself again and took the other object he had taken from the cabinet. One hand he ran down the Doctor’s throat, feeling for the hardness of his cock inside, until he found the head, just deep enough inside. When he fastened the collar around the other’s throat as high as necessary, squeezing his penis even more, the sensation was astonishing. He swallowed a few times before he started moving, thrusting shallowly, just so the head never slipped behind the restrictive band of the collar. The Doctor’s windpipe tightened even more when he desperately tried to suck in some air and Rickston did him the favour of sliding out, just enough to allow one strangled breath and an almost inaudible whimper.
The Doctor whimpered! God, suffering shouldn’t be so gorgeous!
After a second he pushed back in, the feeling of the tip of his cock passing the collar making him shudder, so he did it again, and again. His thrusts grew increasingly forceful and with every thrust he was pressing the Doctor down, down, impaling him on the dildo that split him apart while Rickston fucked his mouth, one hand in his hair and one hand grabbing his yaw hard enough to leave bruises to keep him from biting down when the pain became unbearable.
One minute later, when he lay panting and spend on the bed Rickston thought that it was the breathless sob escaping the Doctor that had pushed him over the edge and made him come hard and with a yell, shooting everything down the Doctor’s throat and not letting go until he was done.
This time he needed longer to catch is breath. When he finally pushed himself upright he found that the Doctor had collapsed at his feet, weakly gasping for air. He was crying soundlessly, but his face was blank. Rickston knelt down behind him to remove the tie that bound his wrists, then gathered the thin man in his arms and lifted him up effortlessly. After placing him back on the bed he sat down beside him and stroked his hair, gently wiped the tears form is cheeks.
A quick look at his watch. Thirty minutes left before the second hour was over. Outside he could hear the fireworks and wondered if the Doctor’s friend was watching it.
After a moment of consideration Rickston placed the watch on the floor beside the bed and finally slipped out of the jacket and shirt he was still wearing. Lying down beside the Doctor he relished the feeling of skin against cold skin for a moment before he bent the other man’s legs and reached between his thighs, feeling for the dildo. The Doctor’s skin was slick with blood and the thing still wasn’t all the way in. Rickston frowned, changed his position and put one hand to the Doctor’s hip while the other pushed as far as possible, making him scream.
“It’s alright,” Rickston smiled down at him. “It’s for your own good. One day you might need my help again, and if I stretch you good now you will just have to lie down and spread your legs for me when the time comes.”
“You’re sick,” the Doctor gasped.
Rickston’s face darkened. He slapped him.
“Don’t be imprudent! We have a deal, remember?”
“The deal says I have to let you use me. It doesn’t forbid me to tell you what I think of it!” the Doctor hissed. “It this the only way to get people into your bed? By blackmailing them? I can’t say that surprises me.”
Rickston slapped him again.
“If you can’t keep your opinion to yourself for a few hours I think I should remind you that it is my right to punish you any way I like.” And it wasn’t like the thought didn’t have a certain appeal.
Now he backhanded him, for good measure. The Doctor looked at him, his face bruised, tears on his cheeks and come on his lips and Rickston thought that he looked perfect like this, angry but defeated.
“It’s time for me to fuck you properly anyway,” he smirked. “Consider yourself lucky - I’m short on recovery time.”
-
Twenty minutes later Rickston snapped shut his phone once again after ordering the release of another hundred prisoners.
Behind him the Doctor was still on the bed, his arms shackled to the posts by proper restrains this time, the collar still around his neck because Rickston liked what it said about their relationship, his legs wide open with his ankles bound to the bed frame. He had not resisted at all when Rickston had tied him up, and it was entirely unnecessary for he had proven he would not fight him, no matter what Rickston had in mind, but now he could not fight, even if he wanted to. He was vulnerable like this, exposed and without protection, and in his eyes Slade could see that this frightened him.
He had removed the dildo and now the Doctor was silently bleeding onto the covers. His face didn’t betray his feelings but his eyes did, far too expressive for his own good. Rickston allowed himself a satisfied smile - he had been very powerful for a long time, but it had been an abstract, theoretical kind of power. This was different, more natural, the animalistic need for dominance exercised in his mastery of a man who should, by all rights, be untouchable.
The Doctor closed his eyes when Rickston picked up the whip again. It was short but vicious and had left beautiful marks on the Time Lord’s back and his arse before Rickston had tied him up. Now he added more marks, on his chest, stomach, inner thighs. Not a lot of them, just a few because he liked the sight of red marks across the Doctor’s pale flash. Liked the way he jerked and failed not to show his pain. Once he smacked him across the face, lightly in comparison, leaving a long red line running from his right brow over his lips and to his chin. It brought tears his eyes but that suited him as well. Rickston couldn’t have the Doctor willing, so he made the best of this situation that under other circumstances would be rape.
In the end he discarded the whip, positioned himself between the Time Lord’s legs, savouring the scared look in his eyes before finally, finally pushing inside. And it was still hard but not as hard as it would have been two hours before, and Rickston quickly came to appreciate the tightness and the coolness of his flesh, and now he was where he’d wanted to go for years he didn’t take things slowly anymore. Rickston was sweating and grunting while he fucked the Doctor hard and thoroughly. Beneath him the Doctor was gasping for air, his eyes wild and wide, reminding Rickston of a frightened animal, and he was beautiful. Simply beautiful.
Slade closed his eyes in bliss, coming hard, and collapsed onto the Doctor, feeling the frantic rise and fall of his chest, the beating of his heart. It felt strange, his heartbeat, misplaced, hard to locate, and not as fast as it by any right should be.
‘What species are you?’ he almost asked once he found himself able to speak, but he didn’t, because he liked the idea of fucking a Time Lord, a myth, and didn’t want it destroyed by a truth that could only be dull in comparison.
His fingers tenderly trailed over the red mark on the other’s face.
“Seven hours,” he whispered.
-
To say that he was exhausted and tired when he left his bedroom the next day would have been an understatement, but Rickston didn’t want to miss seeing the Doctor off. The Time Lord was walking swiftly down the stairs in front of him, obviously eager to get away. Watching his retreating back it was impossible to tell that he had spend the past ten hours getting fucked and beaten. Electroshocked too, and Rickston had enjoyed that a lot, had loved being inside him while his body convulsed and shuddered and he screamed.
The Doctor had a very lovely voice. Especially when it was hoarse and broken. Letting him go was almost a crime.
He had been barely able to stand but contrary to Rickston’s hope had not passed out on his bed when their time was over. Instead the Doctor had dressed quickly and in silence and then, when the door fell shut behind him, somehow found the strength to move as if he was fine and none of it had ever happened.
Of course one look at his face betrayed him. It was bruised, his lips split and it would be a few days before the mark left by the whip faded.
And once Rickston had seen that collar around his neck he’d had no interest in taking it off. He really couldn’t tell how the Doctor could hope to fool anyone. It would be interesting to see what the Doctor’s protective companion would do once he discovered the more permanent marks he had left on his body.
Downstairs Rickston gestured to two of his bodyguards to come with him and stepped out into the garden after the Doctor, curious where the alien was going now.
Between the trees, close to the pond, a funny looking blue box was standing, making Rickston frown for he had never seen it before, and this was his garden after all. The Doctor was heading there, but before he could reach it the doors on the front opened to reveal handsome Captain Harkness. He eyed the Doctor with irritation written all over his face and opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself once he saw his friend.
At once the look of irritation was replaced by shock and concern. Then his eyes fell on Rickston, and Rickston returned his gaze and smiled.
The Doctor reached for Harkness when he ran past him with a cry of rage but didn’t have enough strength left to hold him back. There was murder in the Captain’s eyes and Rickston knew if that man got to him he’d die. Right here and now.
Fortunately he didn’t. Because the bodyguards he’d brought saw him coming, lifted their weapons and shot him.
“Why did you do that?” the Doctor yelled, shocked, and fell to his knees at his fallen friend’s side. “He’s done nothing to you!”
“He would have,” Rickston shrugged before turning to the armed men at his side. “Remove the body, will you?” he asked them.
“Don’t touch him,” the Doctor said icily and when Rickston turned back to him he already had the corpse hoisted over his shoulder, trembling with the effort of carrying someone so much heavier in such a weakened state. “I’ll take care of that myself.”
“Will you?” There was a hint of surprise in Slade’s voice because the Doctor was walking toward the blue box again. He could accept that it might be a means of transport, but while two people might squeeze in there it would be nearly impossible to get inside with a dead body to carry. Yet the Doctor did not slow down when he pushed the doors open and disappeared inside, and for one second Rickston thought he saw a room inside that was dimly lit and much, much bigger than the outside.
Then the doors fell shut and with an unearthly sound the box faded away.
December 19, 2008
They went back inside through the back door, to avoid anyone noticing them. Rickston didn’t usually care much if the papers told the world who he’d taken to his bedroom (or kitchen or pool or closet) the day before, but with the Doctor it would have seemed wrong, somehow. Beside that he wanted to avoid death-by-Harkness.
“What about your friend?” he asked when they went up the stairs, the party just noises in the distance. “Won’t he come looking for you?”
“I was about to leave the party anyway. He won’t expect me back for a few hours,” the Doctor dismissed his concerns, his voice betraying nothing. He added: “You’re neglecting your other guests.”
“They won’t miss me,” Rickston assured him. Him disappearing upstairs with one or more others wasn’t uncommon. At best they’d smile and share knowing glances when he wasn’t found. He informed his security staff though, to stop them from interrupting at inappropriate moments.
To make sure he locked the bedroom door behind them.
The soft carpet swallowed the sound of their footsteps when Rickston led the Doctor through the large, dimly lit room. He wasted no time with awkward silence. Ten seconds after the door had closed behind them Rickston gapped the Time Lord by the back of his neck, pulled him close and pressed a rough kiss to his lips. For two seconds the Doctor resisted, then he seemed to remember their agreement and reluctantly opened his mouth for Rickston’s tongue to invade. Another ten seconds later Slade pushed him onto the bed, straddling him. His fingers roamed over the other’s body, looking for the fastest way to get him out of that tuxedo.
The Doctor’s eyes widened and for one second Rickston thought he’d stop him, ask what the hell he was doing there, but then his half raised hands fell down again and he simply clenched his fingers around the covers and closed his eyes. His entire body was tense. Somehow the discomfort radiating from him turned Rickston on even more, and he suddenly realised that it was the power he craved, that there was nothing sweeter than the thought of this fascinating and untouchable man, helpless and at his mercy. He’d seen what the Doctor could do, seen how dangerous he could be, and yet here he was, submissive beneath him. Rickston stopped in his movements, leaned back. For a moment he just looked down at the Doctor, relished the sight of him so tense on his bed, angry yet powerless, and the urge to take him became nearly unbearable. But when he hands started to unbutton the Doctor’s shirt, he worked slowly instead of just tearing it off, careful that the fabric wasn’t damaged.
The Doctor needed some persuading before he reluctantly slipped his arms out of the jacket and shirt. Rickston didn’t touch his trousers yet, instead let his fingers trail down the soft skin on the inside of the Doctor’s arms. He’d often imagined him naked during the years after the Titanic - and to be honest on board of the ship as well - but now he discovered that he’d underestimated just how lean this man was, and he hadn’t been quite prepared for the coolness of his skin. Wrapping one hand around the Doctor’s wrist (loosely, playfully) he toyed with the idea of tying him up, leaving him completely defenceless, with his arms above his head and his legs spread wide open - but no. Not yet. He had ten hours to play with his man, to use and defile him. (He quite liked that word: defile. It implied power, and privilege.) Enough time to take things slowly.
For now he ran his hands over the Doctor’s chest, pinched his nipples, then bent down to lick his throat; watched the way the Doctor’s body responded to his touch, but in the end his only reaction was tensing up even more. Well, maybe not quite that human. Rickston smirked.
He licked his own fingers and then reached out to touch the Doctor’s face, smearing his salvia over the other’s thin lips like colourless lipstick. Then he leaned down to kiss him again, long and proper this time. There was no fight for dominance, not battle of tongues. If anything the Doctor’s tongue seemed to flee from his, to avoid contact as much a possible. Rickston grabbed the Doctor’s hair and lifted his head a few centimetres off the bed, the kiss turning increasingly messy. Only when he ran out of air did he break it, briefly, and whispered: “You’re mine.” The Doctor swallowed dryly but said nothing.
After letting the Doctor’s head sink back to the bed Rickston adjusted his own position until he was lying fully on top of the Time Lord, his weight pressing him down, trapping him. Rickston knew better than to think him weak, but the scrawniness of his form gave his appearance a frailty that was belied by his eyes.
The businessman quite enjoyed the way he felt beneath him. For a moment he even regretted the Doctor didn’t struggle to give him an excuse to hold him down, to exercise his dominance.
Before he got off him he viciously bit the Doctor’s throat for no particular reason. The Doctor gave a startled sound but otherwise didn’t react. Kneeling over him Rickston slapped him across the face, hard enough to split his lip. The Doctor’s eyes flew open and he stared at him with an expression of shock and betrayal on his pretty face that quite suited him. Without giving an explanation for his actions - or any further thought - Rickston moved backwards to finally unfasten the Doctor’s belt.
“Enough of that,” he decided. “I want my cock inside you.” And he did. He wondered if the Doctor had felt his erection when he’d lain atop of him. He was desperate for the contact but anticipation was part of the fun, and when he pulled the Doctor’s trousers off he did it slowly, enjoying the way the Time Lord squirmed uncomfortably, knowing what was coming for him and utterly unable to stop it from happening. Bound by his own promise.
Morals always trapped the people who cherished them in the end. That was one of the reasons why Rickston never bothered with them.
“Tell me,” he said conversationally while he peeled the socks off the Doctor’s feet. “That friend of yours - did he shag you yet? How many have had this skinny ass of yours so far?”
The Doctor only stared darkly at him. When he said nothing Rickston removed the belt from his discarded trousers and slapped it across his thighs, making him wince.
“Answer me!” he commanded. “You’re mine, remember. Do whatever I tell you or I might not feel obliged to keep our agreement.
“No-one,” the Doctor finally said. A grin of pleasant surprise spread over Rickston’s face.
“Shame,” he said, not at all meaning it - having the Time Lord in his bed was a dream come true, but the fact that he would be the fist to shove his cock into him made it perfect. “What a waste, since it’s so delightfully fuckable.”
“I fear you will find that it’s not,” the Doctor said dryly. “My species doesn’t do that. We haven’t needed that part of our anatomy for many generations. You can’t use my body that way.” He didn’t at all sound like he was regretting it.
Rickston frowned, prepared to get very angry any moment, when he grabbed the Doctor’s ankles and lifted his legs.
“Seems to me like everything’s in place,” he then said, hiding his relief beneath a layer of casualty. Still, better test it. He let go of the Doctor’s legs. “On your hands and knees, please.”
After a second of hesitation the Doctor did as he was told, and Rickston pressed his head and shoulders down until he was hunched on the bed with his arse up in the air, naked and terribly exposed. Slade quite like the sight. He grabbed the Doctor’s cheeks, kneading what little flesh he could find, before he let his hand slip between them and rested one finger teasingly on his arsehole.
When he tried to slip his finger inside, though, he found the Doctor’s words hadn’t been entirely untrue: He’d had his fair share of virgins so far, but never had he had anyone so tight that he found it hard to get even the tip of one finger into them.
The Doctor hissed into the covers, his hands clenched, as Rickston gave up his first effort and pulled his finger out again, a deep frown on his face. After a second the businessman went over to the cabinet and fetched a tube of lube, smearing it over his fingers. Back at the bed he smacked the Doctor’s arse with the belt, hard enough to leave marks.
“Relax,” he ordered.
Without preamble he tried to push his lube covered finger inside, and the cool, slippery substance made it a little easier. Still, it was difficult. He could feel the Doctor clench around him, heard his muffled grunt of discomfort. But he kept pushing until his finger was all the way in, drew it back, pushed again, until he could move it more or less smoothly in the other’s body. Then he added a second finger, which proved nearly impossible, the tight ring of muscle pressing his fingers together uncomfortably. There was no way he was going to push his cock in there - it wouldn’t hurt only the Doctor.
The Time Lord was trembling slightly when he pulled out. Rickston thought he saw his tense shoulders slump with relief at him giving up, but he would soon learn better.
Commanding his unwilling partner to stay where he was he Slade went over to the cabinet again, pulled open the drawer and let his eyes wander over the assortment of toys inside. He planned on using quite a few of them this night. For now he chose a dildo of medium size. Not as thick and long as his cock but it would be enough to prepare the Doctor, stretch him a bit, make him ready for him.
“This will never do,” he admitted when he returned to the Time Lord, still face down and unsuspecting on the bed. “So I found us another way to widen you up.”
The Doctor had thought he’d given up on that idea - Rickston could tell from the way he lifted his head to look at him, shock and fear written over his pretty features. Before he could see what the other man was doing, however, Rickston pressed his head down again.
While from his former attempts the Doctor was now slick inside and the dildo was covered in lube pushing it in was still a challenge. But Rickston kept pressing relentlessly until it was firmly inside, not caring for the Doctor’s little gasps of pain. He watched in mild fascination how the other’s areshole was stretched wider and wider until the skin tore and a thin trail of blood ran down pale thighs.
Once he was satisfied he grabbed the Doctor by the shoulders and gently moved him until he was lying on his back again. With the dildo deep inside his body the movements almost made him scream. He remained tense and curled up, but Rickston took hold of his ankles again and pulled his legs toward him, enjoying the way the Doctor was squirming on the bed, his face twisted with pain.
“Please,” he gasped between harsh breaths. “Take it out! It’s too big, please…” He was begging, just like Rickston had wanted him to. Begging and squirming, and if Rickston couldn’t fuck him soon he was going to explode. Almost mindless with desire he kneeled between the Doctor’s legs and pulled him up with one hand on his arm and one hand in his hair and this time the Doctor did scream. Rickston licked the sweat on his white face and promised: “I’m much bigger.”
The way the Doctor was panting and arching in his arms was very nearly enough to drive him over the edge. He needed to take care of his erection, right now! So he left the bed and gently pulled the Doctor with him, until the Time Lord was sitting in a heap on the floor before him, doubled over and gasping for breath. There were bloodstains of the cover, and there would be bloodstains on the carpet, but Rickston didn’t care for them when he hastily let down his trousers and sat on the edge of the bed, his legs spread.
“Suck me off!” he moaned. “Now!”
For a moment it seemed as if the Doctor hadn’t even heard him. Then he pulled himself upright with his hands on Rickston’s knees, his face just centimetres from his cock. But the look he gave him was full of disgust and uncertainty and Rickston remembered that he was new to this and probably didn’t know what to do. Under different circumstanced he would have enjoyed teaching him but right now he was desperate, and so he just ordered the Doctor to open his mouth, grabbed his head with both hands and moved his hips forward, pushed his throbbing cock between those sweet lips. The Doctor’s eyes widened when the dick filled his mouth, and Rickston moaned out loud and arched his back, somehow managing to hold back release a little longer when a cool tongue brushed against the tip of his cock.
Moaning constantly now he rocked back and forth, and in an instinctive reaction to push him out the Doctor’s tongue moved against his cock and more quickly than intended made him come. Even as he twisted his fists painfully in the Doctor’s hair Rickston thought that he’d have to do this again later, and that time do it properly.
The Doctor gagged around his dick, come running down his chin. He swallowed involuntarily and Rickston imagined his semen running down the Doctor’s throat, becoming part of his system. Eventually he pulled out and let himself fall backwards. For a moment he lay on the bed, lost in the aftershocks, then decided not to waste too much time.
The Doctor had slumped down to the floor again, panting hard with pain. Rickston pulled him up, made him kneel again - on the floor, with his raised arse toward Rickston. The businessman reached for the dildo, toying with it thoughtfully.
“Are you stretched enough yet?” he mused aloud. “Can we pull it out?”
“Yes,” the Doctor hissed through clenched teeth. Rickston smiled and pulled, and the Doctor’s body seemed to cling to it, drawing another gasp from his lips.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Slade decided, and pushed the object back in. Laughed when the Doctor’s body jerked, kept laughing while he fucked the dildo back and forth, twisted it, moved it left and right. There was still so much resistance.
All this, it wasn’t like he had imagined it. In his fantasy the Doctor had been willing, had been hot around him, not cold to the touch. He had never thought he would be so tight, but this, this was almost better than his dreams. Breaking into the Doctor’s body like this, having him unwilling but submissive at his feet while breaking him open, this was priceless.
More blood was running down the Doctor’s legs. Rickston thought that he might be a bit drunk after all, for the sight of blood didn’t usually turn him on this much.
Eventually he shoved the dildo all the way back in and left it alone. Pulling the Doctor onto his lap he did nothing for a few minutes expect savouring the way the other man was writhing against him in discomfort. Rickston moved him so his legs were on either side of his own knee, so that he felt the hard base of the dildo on the skin of his thigh, and the he started bouncing his leg. His cock was getting hard again, and that was good, because soon he’d need it.
“The first hour,” the Doctor suddenly gasped. “It’s up.”
Rickston stopped his movement with a grunt of displeasure. He reached into the pocket of the suit jacket he was still wearing and glanced at his watch. The Doctor was right: the first hour had passed just this minute. How exactly he could tell was beyond Slade, but he didn’t actually care while his cock was hardening against the Doctor’s back and he had just had such a nice idea what to do with it.
“So it seems,” he said with a distinct lack of interest and put the watch back. Reaching forward he took hold of the Doctor’s wrists and pulled them back, pushing his upper body forward in the process.
“The first one hundred prisoners,” the Doctor continued through grinded teeth. “Arrange for them to be released!”
“Still time for that later,” Rickston mumbled distractedly and found himself on his back one second later, with the Doctor kneeling above him, pressing him down.
“Now!” he hissed, his eyes blazing with anger. “Or the deal is off!”
For a moment all Rickston could do was stare at him open mouthed, not understanding how he had ended up beneath the man who’s just squirmed helplessly in is grip. Cold fear crept into his heart when he realised that he had underestimated the Doctor, that the man had only let himself be dominated because it was part of their deal - and that he might be the one in pain but Rickston was the one in danger if he didn’t play by the rules.
His fear mingled with a hint of joy. He was trembling pathetically under the Doctor’s stare and his iron grip, and he hadn’t felt this alive for years.
He nodded once, and the Doctor let him go, sat back and watched while Rickston pulled out his mobile and made a call to the office of the minister of defence - wasting precious minutes. When he was done he glanced back at the Doctor who watched him with angry defiance in his eyes. But now Rickston also saw the signs of pain still visible in his posture, reminding him who should be in charge here. He felt anger rising at the Doctor daring to reverse their roles, even for a moment. Time to remind him of the place he accepted for the night Rickston decided (while inside he was still trembling, aware that he was playing with fire), threw himself against the frail looking man and wrestled him to the ground, his hands rough and his knees poised to bruise.
He couldn’t restrain himself, and he didn’t want to. After punching the Doctor in the face two times and kneeing him in the stomach he turned him around so he was lying face down on the bed. With difficulty he reached for the dildo and yanked it out in one quick movement, somewhat surprised by the amount of blood that followed. The Doctor bit back a scream.
He didn’t fight back once.
Driven by anger as well as the need to prove himself as the one in control Rickston pushed two fingers inside, testing - no. Still too tight. Something else, then, and he knew exactly what would be appropriate right now.
After removing his tie he wrapped it tightly around the Doctor’s wrists, binding them behind his back. He had better restraints than that in his collection but for now it would do. Going to the cabinet once again he took a few things out of the drawer and placed them on the bed. The Doctor eyed them wearily, said nothing. Didn’t protest when Rickston made him kneel on the floor again, between his legs, when he presented him with his half-hard cock and once more took hold of his hair.
“Do as I say,” Rickston ordered. “It’s about time you learned this properly.” The Doctor’s gaze remained defiant and disgusted, but he never hesitated to do as he was told, keen on keeping his promise for the sake of others. There was something arousing in the way he gave himself up so completely. Rickston groaned with pleasure when the Doctor’s tongue moved along the length of his shaft, when he licked his balls, when he closed his lips around the tip and sucked, his cheeks hollow, his tongue never still. He learned quickly, and Rickston was hard again, so hard, but he didn’t want to come just yet. The Doctor had angered him. He would not make this easy for him.
Just before it became too much for him he pulled back, reached for the dildo lying on the bed and made the Doctor expose his arse to him again. The Time Lord swallowed, trembling slightly but did as he was told, a willing sacrifice on Rickston’s altar.
The dildo he had chosen was larger than the last one. He had toyed with the idea of shoving it inside without any lubrication but that just wouldn’t work. So he smeared the slippery substance over the object, and still the Doctor stopped breathing when he pushed the tip inside. But that was it. Rickston stopped right there, the dildo just an inch inside the Doctor’s body. Instead of forcing it in further he positioned the Doctor on his knees before him once again, with the end of the dildo touching the floor. The position this forced the Time Lord to maintain was highly uncomfortable: low enough to suck Rickston’s cock, yet straining to keep himself from sinking too low, thus pushing the dildo in further, and his bound arms didn’t help. He looked miserable and Rickston loved it.
“Mine,” he mumbled. And pushed his cock into the Doctor’s mouth. And kept pushing until the head hit the hard palatal. And pushed further. The Doctor made a strangled sound when the hard penis slit into his throat, blocking it completely. Rickston relished the movement of the tongue against his flesh when the Doctor gagged, loved the way the windpipe constricted around him. The Doctor’s eyes where impossibly wide and he didn’t look defiant anymore.
Just disbelieving and scared.
Slade could feel him tremble against him, helpless as he wanted him to be. He reached behind himself again and took the other object he had taken from the cabinet. One hand he ran down the Doctor’s throat, feeling for the hardness of his cock inside, until he found the head, just deep enough inside. When he fastened the collar around the other’s throat as high as necessary, squeezing his penis even more, the sensation was astonishing. He swallowed a few times before he started moving, thrusting shallowly, just so the head never slipped behind the restrictive band of the collar. The Doctor’s windpipe tightened even more when he desperately tried to suck in some air and Rickston did him the favour of sliding out, just enough to allow one strangled breath and an almost inaudible whimper.
The Doctor whimpered! God, suffering shouldn’t be so gorgeous!
After a second he pushed back in, the feeling of the tip of his cock passing the collar making him shudder, so he did it again, and again. His thrusts grew increasingly forceful and with every thrust he was pressing the Doctor down, down, impaling him on the dildo that split him apart while Rickston fucked his mouth, one hand in his hair and one hand grabbing his yaw hard enough to leave bruises to keep him from biting down when the pain became unbearable.
One minute later, when he lay panting and spend on the bed Rickston thought that it was the breathless sob escaping the Doctor that had pushed him over the edge and made him come hard and with a yell, shooting everything down the Doctor’s throat and not letting go until he was done.
This time he needed longer to catch is breath. When he finally pushed himself upright he found that the Doctor had collapsed at his feet, weakly gasping for air. He was crying soundlessly, but his face was blank. Rickston knelt down behind him to remove the tie that bound his wrists, then gathered the thin man in his arms and lifted him up effortlessly. After placing him back on the bed he sat down beside him and stroked his hair, gently wiped the tears form is cheeks.
A quick look at his watch. Thirty minutes left before the second hour was over. Outside he could hear the fireworks and wondered if the Doctor’s friend was watching it.
After a moment of consideration Rickston placed the watch on the floor beside the bed and finally slipped out of the jacket and shirt he was still wearing. Lying down beside the Doctor he relished the feeling of skin against cold skin for a moment before he bent the other man’s legs and reached between his thighs, feeling for the dildo. The Doctor’s skin was slick with blood and the thing still wasn’t all the way in. Rickston frowned, changed his position and put one hand to the Doctor’s hip while the other pushed as far as possible, making him scream.
“It’s alright,” Rickston smiled down at him. “It’s for your own good. One day you might need my help again, and if I stretch you good now you will just have to lie down and spread your legs for me when the time comes.”
“You’re sick,” the Doctor gasped.
Rickston’s face darkened. He slapped him.
“Don’t be imprudent! We have a deal, remember?”
“The deal says I have to let you use me. It doesn’t forbid me to tell you what I think of it!” the Doctor hissed. “It this the only way to get people into your bed? By blackmailing them? I can’t say that surprises me.”
Rickston slapped him again.
“If you can’t keep your opinion to yourself for a few hours I think I should remind you that it is my right to punish you any way I like.” And it wasn’t like the thought didn’t have a certain appeal.
Now he backhanded him, for good measure. The Doctor looked at him, his face bruised, tears on his cheeks and come on his lips and Rickston thought that he looked perfect like this, angry but defeated.
“It’s time for me to fuck you properly anyway,” he smirked. “Consider yourself lucky - I’m short on recovery time.”
-
Twenty minutes later Rickston snapped shut his phone once again after ordering the release of another hundred prisoners.
Behind him the Doctor was still on the bed, his arms shackled to the posts by proper restrains this time, the collar still around his neck because Rickston liked what it said about their relationship, his legs wide open with his ankles bound to the bed frame. He had not resisted at all when Rickston had tied him up, and it was entirely unnecessary for he had proven he would not fight him, no matter what Rickston had in mind, but now he could not fight, even if he wanted to. He was vulnerable like this, exposed and without protection, and in his eyes Slade could see that this frightened him.
He had removed the dildo and now the Doctor was silently bleeding onto the covers. His face didn’t betray his feelings but his eyes did, far too expressive for his own good. Rickston allowed himself a satisfied smile - he had been very powerful for a long time, but it had been an abstract, theoretical kind of power. This was different, more natural, the animalistic need for dominance exercised in his mastery of a man who should, by all rights, be untouchable.
The Doctor closed his eyes when Rickston picked up the whip again. It was short but vicious and had left beautiful marks on the Time Lord’s back and his arse before Rickston had tied him up. Now he added more marks, on his chest, stomach, inner thighs. Not a lot of them, just a few because he liked the sight of red marks across the Doctor’s pale flash. Liked the way he jerked and failed not to show his pain. Once he smacked him across the face, lightly in comparison, leaving a long red line running from his right brow over his lips and to his chin. It brought tears his eyes but that suited him as well. Rickston couldn’t have the Doctor willing, so he made the best of this situation that under other circumstances would be rape.
In the end he discarded the whip, positioned himself between the Time Lord’s legs, savouring the scared look in his eyes before finally, finally pushing inside. And it was still hard but not as hard as it would have been two hours before, and Rickston quickly came to appreciate the tightness and the coolness of his flesh, and now he was where he’d wanted to go for years he didn’t take things slowly anymore. Rickston was sweating and grunting while he fucked the Doctor hard and thoroughly. Beneath him the Doctor was gasping for air, his eyes wild and wide, reminding Rickston of a frightened animal, and he was beautiful. Simply beautiful.
Slade closed his eyes in bliss, coming hard, and collapsed onto the Doctor, feeling the frantic rise and fall of his chest, the beating of his heart. It felt strange, his heartbeat, misplaced, hard to locate, and not as fast as it by any right should be.
‘What species are you?’ he almost asked once he found himself able to speak, but he didn’t, because he liked the idea of fucking a Time Lord, a myth, and didn’t want it destroyed by a truth that could only be dull in comparison.
His fingers tenderly trailed over the red mark on the other’s face.
“Seven hours,” he whispered.
-
To say that he was exhausted and tired when he left his bedroom the next day would have been an understatement, but Rickston didn’t want to miss seeing the Doctor off. The Time Lord was walking swiftly down the stairs in front of him, obviously eager to get away. Watching his retreating back it was impossible to tell that he had spend the past ten hours getting fucked and beaten. Electroshocked too, and Rickston had enjoyed that a lot, had loved being inside him while his body convulsed and shuddered and he screamed.
The Doctor had a very lovely voice. Especially when it was hoarse and broken. Letting him go was almost a crime.
He had been barely able to stand but contrary to Rickston’s hope had not passed out on his bed when their time was over. Instead the Doctor had dressed quickly and in silence and then, when the door fell shut behind him, somehow found the strength to move as if he was fine and none of it had ever happened.
Of course one look at his face betrayed him. It was bruised, his lips split and it would be a few days before the mark left by the whip faded.
And once Rickston had seen that collar around his neck he’d had no interest in taking it off. He really couldn’t tell how the Doctor could hope to fool anyone. It would be interesting to see what the Doctor’s protective companion would do once he discovered the more permanent marks he had left on his body.
Downstairs Rickston gestured to two of his bodyguards to come with him and stepped out into the garden after the Doctor, curious where the alien was going now.
Between the trees, close to the pond, a funny looking blue box was standing, making Rickston frown for he had never seen it before, and this was his garden after all. The Doctor was heading there, but before he could reach it the doors on the front opened to reveal handsome Captain Harkness. He eyed the Doctor with irritation written all over his face and opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself once he saw his friend.
At once the look of irritation was replaced by shock and concern. Then his eyes fell on Rickston, and Rickston returned his gaze and smiled.
The Doctor reached for Harkness when he ran past him with a cry of rage but didn’t have enough strength left to hold him back. There was murder in the Captain’s eyes and Rickston knew if that man got to him he’d die. Right here and now.
Fortunately he didn’t. Because the bodyguards he’d brought saw him coming, lifted their weapons and shot him.
“Why did you do that?” the Doctor yelled, shocked, and fell to his knees at his fallen friend’s side. “He’s done nothing to you!”
“He would have,” Rickston shrugged before turning to the armed men at his side. “Remove the body, will you?” he asked them.
“Don’t touch him,” the Doctor said icily and when Rickston turned back to him he already had the corpse hoisted over his shoulder, trembling with the effort of carrying someone so much heavier in such a weakened state. “I’ll take care of that myself.”
“Will you?” There was a hint of surprise in Slade’s voice because the Doctor was walking toward the blue box again. He could accept that it might be a means of transport, but while two people might squeeze in there it would be nearly impossible to get inside with a dead body to carry. Yet the Doctor did not slow down when he pushed the doors open and disappeared inside, and for one second Rickston thought he saw a room inside that was dimly lit and much, much bigger than the outside.
Then the doors fell shut and with an unearthly sound the box faded away.
December 19, 2008