The Morning After - Chapter Four
Title: The Morning After - Chapter Four
Fandom: Doctor Who / Being Human (Crossover)
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/George
Rating: This Chapter - R (rated NC-17 overall)
Spoilers: Doctor Who - Tooth and Claw / Being Human - first two episodes of series one
Warning: The story at this point becomes darker in tone. This chapter deals with lycanthrophilia (sexual attraction to werewolves) and contains scenes that some may find disturbing.
Author's Note: This chapter is mostly a "flashback" scene, going back to the night before George met the Doctor for the first time. Thanks to adafrog for beta'ing and good ideas.
The scent on the clothing was more than just perspiration, old deodorant and skin particles, more than the odour of an ordinary human male. It had notes of wild animal; of the promise of hunting and of blood.
The scent in the Doctor's nostrils was the tang of ruination and of salvation. It was more than that. It was unique. And it was driving the Doctor insane.
Chapter Four
George closed his eyes, his mind a maelstrom of his own thoughts and the feral influence of the wolf fighting to take him over.
He was still trapped between the medical exam table and the Doctor's body. He was getting so strong… all he had to do was push against the Doctor and he'd be free, but something kept him rooted to the spot.
The scent in his nostrils was stirring up memories. He concentrated, trying to remember something… anything. It had to have been that night a few months earlier, the evening before he met the Doctor…
*****
Grove Woods, Bristol - three full moons ago
It was a clear night. The Doctor squinted in the near darkness, trying to see beyond the curtain of dense trees ahead of him. The small, slightly ramshackle piece of equipment he held in his hand, a life sign scanner of his own design and construction, flickered through a random pattern of red and blue lights as it displayed its readings. It had detected a life sign that wasn't human. It was almost human... but not quite.
And that had been enough to make the Doctor sit up and take notice.
The scanner bleeped. It was performing a search via its constantly updating link to the TARDIS computer archive, looking for a match that could determine what species this particular being was. Now the instrument was telling the Doctor that the being ahead was human, but also contained DNA strands designated 'Canis Lupus'.
Half-human, half-wolf. The Doctor swallowed hard. Here we go again...
There was a scream of agony coming from the north-west, and the Doctor quickened his pace, padding forwards in that direction as quickly and quietly as he could on the harsh ground, until he reached a position where he could see what was happening.
There was a man in front of him, in a little clearing just ahead of the undergrowth. The Doctor stayed behind the thick trunk of an ancient oak tree, hiding and watching.
The man was young, slim, and completely naked; his pale, smooth skin illuminated by the full moon.
Every few moments he doubled over in agony, letting out cries and moans. In between the racking spasms of pain, he was desperately shoving clothing into a bin bag. It looked as if this was something he should have done sooner; as though this was his normal ritual but tonight he'd been late, and now he was unprepared and rushing.
The naked man bundled up the filled bag in his arms and thrust it quickly behind a bed of distinctive Hawthorne bushes. This was obviously an area of the woods the man frequented enough to know his way around, where he could remember certain landmarks. He was storing his clothes, for later. Hiding them, even.
The man doubled over in pain again, and fell on to his knees. The Doctor wanted to rush forward and try to help him. His every instinct told him that this man was in great distress, that he needed medical help.
But despite himself, the Doctor stayed where he was. This was something unique, something incredible, and he shouldn't interfere. He just needed to see…
The Doctor watched, his eyes wide, as with another heart-wrenching scream, prominent ridges appeared along the man's spine, knobbles of bone rising up one by one, stretching out the skin on his back. The man raised his head and looked up at the moon. A moment ago he'd been an ordinary, attractive young man. Now his eyes were bright yellow and animal-like, the pupils huge and dark. He opened his mouth and bared his teeth. They were sharp and pointed, like fangs.
The man threw his head back and howled.
The raw, animal cry reverberated around the clearing, and the Doctor bit his lip hard enough to leave a temporary mark. He closed his eyes. The howling continued, the sound echoing around him. The Time Lord shivered as though touched by cold fingers, the hairs on the back of his neck rising.
He forced himself to open his eyes and look at the manwolf again. The magnificent creature ahead of him was staring at his own hands, watching as pointed, deadly claws grew steadily from the tips of his fingers, elongating and glinting in the pale moonlight.
The Doctor gazed at those razor sharp fingernails and at the mutating face of the man who was changing from a human into… something else. The Doctor licked his lips. His breathing had quickened. Strange feelings were awakening in him. Something inside him burned.
One swipe of those claws across his skin, and crimson would bloom. Those teeth could graze over the sensitive flesh of his neck and chest, the sensation of hot animal breath on his skin making him shudder…
Those pointed teeth and razor-sharp claws could run all over his body. Gently at first, and then harder, bringing forth rivulets of blood to mingle with the sweat on his heated skin. Those claws could rake at his flesh, bringing with it bittersweet pain to cleanse him of his sins against the universe.
And… maybe… he could allow himself, just this once, to experience that wanton, forbidden pleasure. Just once, he could take reward for all that he had suffered.
Couldn't he?
It would feel so good. It would make him feel alive, knowing that he was teetering on a fine line between ecstasy and mortal peril…
The Doctor, burning with shame, ran a trembling palm down his own body, over his flat stomach, his skin catching on the rough fabric of his clothing. He ran his hand over his hard, aching cock, squeezing himself through the cloth of his trousers as though that should be enough to sate him; enough to make him turn around, go back to his ship of time and space, and forget every unwilling impulse awakening in his body.
Time Lords didn't do this. Time Lords stayed in control. Time Lords restrained themselves; they pushed away such shameful, corporeal desires.
But this was something… something different. A longing, a yearning he'd had for so long.
Scotland, 1879.
Over a century in the past, but only a few years ago, for him.
He'd seen a creature like this, back then. Like this, but not quite the same. He'd been fascinated by it.
But there had also been danger, important people to save, his Rose to protect. There had been more urgent, important things to focus on, enabling him to push such petty infatuations aside. It had been easier then for this reprehensible craving within him to be controlled and ignored.
But now this… Transformation, before his eyes. He'd not seen it happen before. He'd got there too late, last time.
It was something he'd always wanted to witness, but now that it was happening… it affected him in ways he didn't know how to deal with.
He tried to come to his senses. The creature in the clearing was preoccupied with its own metamorphosis, but any moment now… the manwolf could catch his scent on the air. The Doctor knew he was expelling the odour of cold sweat and of sensual pheromones. He could smell it on himself.
And to the fully transformed wolf, all he would be is fresh meat.
He should turn and run, he knew that. He should go back to the TARDIS, get away from this place, and fight down what he was feeling. If he left now, the manwolf might never even know he was there.
But… oh, there was still some obligation of responsibility within him. As the last Time Lord, it was almost melded into his very chromosomes. He had a duty to find out what this creature was, what it wanted. To ensure it meant no harm to anyone else.
That thought was in the back of his head, true, and he took comfort from the fact that this wasn't purely a selfish undertaking.
But… the Doctor did have other thoughts on his mind. Dark, wanton thoughts that were unfamiliar to him.
The Doctor squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. His mind was fuzzy. He knew what he was doing was foolish and irrational. But he couldn't help himself.
He opened his eyes and took a deep breath. He slipped around the perimeter of the clearing, moving slowly, trying not to disturb any of the foliage as he went. Now he was round the back of the patch of Hawthorne bushes. He could see something black and shiny in the dim moonlight, barely hidden under a patch of leaves. Just a few more feet…
He snatched up the black bag full of clothing and dragged it backwards with him, back into the undergrowth and into hiding. He was almost panting as he bent over it and ripped a hole in the thin plastic with his fingernails. He pulled out the creased t-shirt lying at the top.
The Doctor clutched the clothing in both hands, brought it up to his nose and inhaled the scent on it; the smell of the man who was turning into a wolf mere yards away from him. The Time Lord had a keen sense of smell, maybe not as sharp as the owner of this shirt, but better than the average human's.
The scent on the clothing was more than just perspiration, old deodorant and skin particles, more than the odour of an ordinary human male. It had notes of wild animal; of the promise of hunting and of blood.
The scent in the Doctor's nostrils was the tang of ruination and of salvation. It was more than that. It was unique. And it was driving the Doctor insane.
The Doctor shook his head, reproachful. But he couldn't help it. Lycanthropy just… did something to him, something he couldn't explain. He'd never even been able to admit it to himself until now.
The Doctor fell to his knees, hands scrabbling at the fastening of his trousers and pushing aside the fabric, finally freeing his hard, aching erection. The cool night breeze was soothing on his heated flesh.
He moaned softly as he took himself into his hand, stroking urgently. He looked up through stinging eyes, watching as the naked man in the moonlight rapidly grew a pelt of dark, shiny hair all over his body. The man's face had elongated, skull bones cracking and reforming as a wolf's maw developed, saliva dripping from the extended fangs.
The manwolf still looked to be in great pain, but was no longer making any sounds, other than a muted whimpering. Perhaps he couldn't speak anymore. The change was almost complete.
"Oh… you are beautiful…" the Doctor breathed, completely undone. His hands were shaking, his thighs trembling under his own bodyweight. It didn't take long. He grunted as he came, spurting messily on to the blue fabric of the crumpled t-shirt lying on the ground beneath him.
The Doctor hung his head for a moment, panting and trembling with the aftershocks. It had been a rushed and unsatisfactory orgasm, but that was only to be expected.
He held his hand up to the moonlight; saw it shining wetly with traces of his own fluids. He wanted to feel ashamed and disgusted at himself, but somehow now it was easy to push those negative emotions away. He'd punished himself enough these last few months; further self-reproach would serve no purpose, he decided.
He wiped the remaining traces of the thick juices from his fingers onto the t-shirt, crumpled it up around the small puddle of opaque fluid slowly soaking into the fabric, and pushed it back into the bin bag.
He paused to tuck himself away and pull up the zip of his trousers. Then he stood and looked through the trees, to see what the manwolf was doing now.
The lupine creature had gone. The Doctor took a slow intake of breath. He should have been watching! He fumbled in his pocket for the life sign scanner.
Seconds later… well, it all happened so fast. A huge, hot weight rammed into his back; heated breath blowing across the back of his neck. The force of the blow knocked the Doctor sprawling to the ground onto his stomach. The scanning equipment flew out of his hand and skittered across the dense, rough ground into the undergrowth.
The Doctor, without thinking, rammed an elbow backwards and caught his assailant a glancing blow, enough to enable him to push backwards and gain enough room to slither out from under the weight of his attacker. The Doctor crawled forwards on his hands and knees.
He barely had time to roll over onto his back before the manwolf was on top of him again; a heavy, hairy weight pressing him down into the dirt and bracken. The fully formed wolf's gaping jaws were inches from his face; strands of saliva were dribbling onto him.
It didn't look like an ordinary canine wolf. It looked a little like the lupine haemovariform the Doctor had been forced to deal with in Scotland some years earlier, but it possessed some dissimilar features, as though it were of a slightly different species.
This wolf was bipedal like the last one, but not quite as huge. It was only a little taller than the Doctor himself, but was no less impressive. This creature obviously possessed terrific strength. His front limbs ended in deadly claws, but still had a semblance of hands, rather than paws. The manwolf's eyes were yellow, animal-like and feral, but there was still a glow of human intelligence in them, the Doctor could see. Was there still a trace of the ordinary man inside it?
The lycanthrope was hesitating, the Doctor realised. It sensed that this was no ordinary prey. There was something unique about the Time Lord that it couldn't quite fathom.
The Doctor cautiously raised a hand up to the back of the lycanthrope's head, and stroked gingerly down the fur behind one pointed ear. The creature growled softly in the back of its throat, but not aggressively. The Doctor brought the same hand around and between their faces, and let the wolf sniff at it.
The wolf growled again, but the tone was different. It acknowledged the scent of sex and desire, and recognised it as one of its own hungers.
The Doctor swallowed hard. The sharp tips of the claws pressing against his shoulders dug into his flesh, through the thick fabric of his suit lapels, holding him prone. The creature pressed his nose into the soft hollow of the Doctor's throat and sniffed, slowly and thoroughly.
The Doctor held completely still, his hearts thumping almost painfully hard in his chest. The weight of the manwolf on top of him bore down, restricting his ability to breathe. The added body heat against him brought fresh sweat to the Doctor's forehead.
The Doctor shifted his thighs apart slowly, feeling the creature slide heavily into the gap between them.
The wolf was pressing its hot body against him, snuffling against his throat, growling softly in the back of its throat. The claws pressed downwards, dragging the collar of the Doctor's shirt down far enough for the top buttons to come undone. The creatures tongue snaked out and licked the Doctor across his freshly exposed collarbone.
The Time Lord let out a gasp. This was all… a little too much.
Oh, for a sprig of mistletoe! His hand slipped from the wolf's head as he moved it slowly and carefully across his own chest, feeling the back of his hand brush against the soft fur of the softly whimpering creature lying on top of him; until he could slide numb, trembling fingers into his inside pocket and retrieve his sonic screwdriver.
"I'm sorry," he muttered as he pressed the button on the sonic's side, and a high pitched screech filled the clearing, reverberating and echoing around the trees.
The lycanthrope threw back its head and yowled angrily, and the Doctor took the opportunity of pushing both hands against the creature's chest with all his might, until he could slither out from beneath him.
The Doctor jumped to his feet, bouncing lightly on his toes, ready to flee. He should have run away then, but he took one last, lingering look at the manwolf, seeing its front limbs clawing at the ground in distress.
The Doctor switched off the sonic, and the clearing was bathed in absolute silence once more. The manwolf stood, looked at the Doctor, and whimpered. It wasn't a sound of pain. It had a deeper, sadder quality. As the Doctor watched, the lycanthrope sniffed at the air, until it traced the source of the scent that was driving it mad.
The black bin bag filled with soiled clothing lay forgotten in the dirt a few feet away.
The Time Lord backed off as the animal leapt forwards and attacked the bag, ripping it to shreds, to get to what was inside.
After a moment, the creature paused in its assailment and turned its yellow eyes to the Doctor.
"Yes… that's my scent. You know me now," the Time Lord murmured, nodding resolutely, as he slowly backed away.
The lycanthrope let him leave without further threat and turned his attentions back to the black bag, as the Doctor turned tail and fled.
*****
The Doctor walked slowly through the trees, in the direction of the TARDIS, deep in thought. The shallow scratches on his shoulders and exposed neck and chest were stinging. It felt good.
Nevertheless, the wounds would need to be seen to, when he got back to his ship.
There was the scent of wolf on him, dirt and particles of crushed leaves on his clothing, and mud on his shoes. There was lingering wetness between his thighs. The Doctor should have felt unclean, even a little ashamed, but he didn't. He felt more alive than he had in a long time.
He knew now that he couldn't just leave this place. He had to find out what that organism was. He might be dangerous. What happened in Scotland a hundred and thirty years ago might be happening again. He had a feeling that this was something different, but he had to make sure. It was his duty.
And any… personal interest he might have had in the lycanthrope was purely incidental.
*****
Some hours later, the Doctor, washed and in a clean suit, was back in the undergrowth, watching from a distance as the manwolf caught and ate a small woodland creature. It looked like some sort of weasel or shrew.
The Doctor felt a small pang of sympathy for the small mammal, but he couldn’t argue with the natural order of the food chain.
Even when he possessed the uncomfortable knowledge that he had now made himself a part of it.
The Doctor's reverie was broken by the sound of the creature howling, this time in pain again. He looked up into the sky. It was nearly daybreak. Transformation back to the human form must be just as painful, he realised, with all those bones reforming, skin and muscles shrinking back, hair reverting into follicles.
The Doctor retrieved the life form scanner from its abandoned spot under an old elm and put it back into his pocket. Then he picked up the small fold-out camping chair he had leaned temporarily against the same tree, tightened his grip on the Thermos flask in his hand and the bundle of clothing under his arm, and made his way through the brushwood towards the wolf who would soon once again be a man.
It was time for him to make a new friend.
*****
George let go of the Doctors' lapels and looked into the eyes of the alien. Then he looked at his own hands, seeing that his nails were a little sharper and thicker.
They would soon be claws.
He had another sudden flash of memory, of lying on top of this… man. A man who wasn't a man. Of his sharp claws pressing into the not-man's flesh through the rough cloth of his clothes.
George sagged. He tottered backwards and felt the metal edge of the medical examination behind him, and sat down on it.
He couldn't usually remember anything about being a wolf except random feelings and the most primitive of thoughts.
But he remembered the scent of alien flesh, an intoxication that he'd had to have more of. He remembered the
scent of a man... but not a man
it is rich and ancient and powerful it is
life
power
lust
it is the end to a craving
the scent of the not-man is
the path to satiation of a hunger more base than the need for food
it is the scent of my quarry
but prey that will lay back and be taken without a fight
this is what I want
need want NEED
Oh God!
this is what my prey wants
But it's wrong!
I am not an animal!
hungry
No! I am a human. Human. Not a wolf. I am a human and my name is George
this is my quarry it wants to be taken and clawed and bitten and abandoned
No!
and i will take it
"And I don't care…" whispered George. His eyes were filled with tears. "When I'm a wolf… I don't care. I just… need. To hunt. To just… take." He bit his lip. "There is this hunger inside me, and it takes every little, tiny last effort, every remaining trace of my humanity to not… just… find someone and take what I want from them."
"Because you do care," said the Doctor softly.
George shook his head violently. "I hate it!" he snarled.
He looked at the Doctor, with pain in his eyes. "You said you could help me," said George accusingly.
The Doctor shook his head. "I said I might be able to. But don’t you see? I can help you! Not in the way you mean, I can't cure you of what you are..."
George bent over and screamed. He fell on to his knees.
"George… oh, George… I'm so sorry…" the Doctor knelt by his side and tenderly stroked his face. George's eyes were yellow now, and his mouth was filled with what were almost fangs. He could still speak, but only just.
"You… did that… you made me learn your scent… as though I were a dog! That scent of you, of your… oh God. You wanted to have sex with me!" George's voice was high-pitched with indignation, but he didn't look or sound as horrified as he wanted to, and that made him even angrier.
"It wasn't just that…" the Doctor looked stricken. "I… needed to know what you are. You fascinate me, yes... but it's not just…"
"Stay away from me!" George hissed. His arm lashed out and caught the Doctor on the side of the face. The Doctor, on his haunches, fell sideways and onto the floor with the force of the blow.
George stood and ran out of the room, whimpering and growling as he went.
The Doctor didn't go after him. The journey from the lab to the control room was fairly easy to remember and he knew that in a few moments George would be out of the TARDIS and long gone into the night.
He sat up and rubbed a hand ruefully over the aching area of his jaw.
He should take his TARDIS and leave. To stay in this location and set the coordinates to travel forwards in time to the night of the next full moon would be foolish. Presumptuous. An insult, even.
He stood up on aching legs and dusted himself down. The monitor closest to him was still beeping and flashing "error" over and over.
Error. Always getting it wrong these days, old man.
He reached out and pressed a switch, and the incessant bleeping stopped. His fingers lingered on the control.
He remembered how the skin of George's face felt, soft beneath his fingertips.
He took a long, slow intake breath and withdrew his hand. Shoved it into his pocket.
There was no harm in hanging around here for a while. Well, silly to just sit here. He could just take a trip a few weeks into the future. The weather would be better next month. Warmer. He could take a nice long walk in the sun. And it was nice here, in the woods. He was getting in touch with nature.
The Doctor set off walking back through to the console room.
He couldn't just give up on George. He wouldn't give up on him.
That's what friends were for.
To be continued
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Fandom: Doctor Who / Being Human (Crossover)
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/George
Rating: This Chapter - R (rated NC-17 overall)
Spoilers: Doctor Who - Tooth and Claw / Being Human - first two episodes of series one
Warning: The story at this point becomes darker in tone. This chapter deals with lycanthrophilia (sexual attraction to werewolves) and contains scenes that some may find disturbing.
Author's Note: This chapter is mostly a "flashback" scene, going back to the night before George met the Doctor for the first time. Thanks to adafrog for beta'ing and good ideas.
The scent on the clothing was more than just perspiration, old deodorant and skin particles, more than the odour of an ordinary human male. It had notes of wild animal; of the promise of hunting and of blood.
The scent in the Doctor's nostrils was the tang of ruination and of salvation. It was more than that. It was unique. And it was driving the Doctor insane.
Chapter Four
George closed his eyes, his mind a maelstrom of his own thoughts and the feral influence of the wolf fighting to take him over.
He was still trapped between the medical exam table and the Doctor's body. He was getting so strong… all he had to do was push against the Doctor and he'd be free, but something kept him rooted to the spot.
The scent in his nostrils was stirring up memories. He concentrated, trying to remember something… anything. It had to have been that night a few months earlier, the evening before he met the Doctor…
*****
Grove Woods, Bristol - three full moons ago
It was a clear night. The Doctor squinted in the near darkness, trying to see beyond the curtain of dense trees ahead of him. The small, slightly ramshackle piece of equipment he held in his hand, a life sign scanner of his own design and construction, flickered through a random pattern of red and blue lights as it displayed its readings. It had detected a life sign that wasn't human. It was almost human... but not quite.
And that had been enough to make the Doctor sit up and take notice.
The scanner bleeped. It was performing a search via its constantly updating link to the TARDIS computer archive, looking for a match that could determine what species this particular being was. Now the instrument was telling the Doctor that the being ahead was human, but also contained DNA strands designated 'Canis Lupus'.
Half-human, half-wolf. The Doctor swallowed hard. Here we go again...
There was a scream of agony coming from the north-west, and the Doctor quickened his pace, padding forwards in that direction as quickly and quietly as he could on the harsh ground, until he reached a position where he could see what was happening.
There was a man in front of him, in a little clearing just ahead of the undergrowth. The Doctor stayed behind the thick trunk of an ancient oak tree, hiding and watching.
The man was young, slim, and completely naked; his pale, smooth skin illuminated by the full moon.
Every few moments he doubled over in agony, letting out cries and moans. In between the racking spasms of pain, he was desperately shoving clothing into a bin bag. It looked as if this was something he should have done sooner; as though this was his normal ritual but tonight he'd been late, and now he was unprepared and rushing.
The naked man bundled up the filled bag in his arms and thrust it quickly behind a bed of distinctive Hawthorne bushes. This was obviously an area of the woods the man frequented enough to know his way around, where he could remember certain landmarks. He was storing his clothes, for later. Hiding them, even.
The man doubled over in pain again, and fell on to his knees. The Doctor wanted to rush forward and try to help him. His every instinct told him that this man was in great distress, that he needed medical help.
But despite himself, the Doctor stayed where he was. This was something unique, something incredible, and he shouldn't interfere. He just needed to see…
The Doctor watched, his eyes wide, as with another heart-wrenching scream, prominent ridges appeared along the man's spine, knobbles of bone rising up one by one, stretching out the skin on his back. The man raised his head and looked up at the moon. A moment ago he'd been an ordinary, attractive young man. Now his eyes were bright yellow and animal-like, the pupils huge and dark. He opened his mouth and bared his teeth. They were sharp and pointed, like fangs.
The man threw his head back and howled.
The raw, animal cry reverberated around the clearing, and the Doctor bit his lip hard enough to leave a temporary mark. He closed his eyes. The howling continued, the sound echoing around him. The Time Lord shivered as though touched by cold fingers, the hairs on the back of his neck rising.
He forced himself to open his eyes and look at the manwolf again. The magnificent creature ahead of him was staring at his own hands, watching as pointed, deadly claws grew steadily from the tips of his fingers, elongating and glinting in the pale moonlight.
The Doctor gazed at those razor sharp fingernails and at the mutating face of the man who was changing from a human into… something else. The Doctor licked his lips. His breathing had quickened. Strange feelings were awakening in him. Something inside him burned.
One swipe of those claws across his skin, and crimson would bloom. Those teeth could graze over the sensitive flesh of his neck and chest, the sensation of hot animal breath on his skin making him shudder…
Those pointed teeth and razor-sharp claws could run all over his body. Gently at first, and then harder, bringing forth rivulets of blood to mingle with the sweat on his heated skin. Those claws could rake at his flesh, bringing with it bittersweet pain to cleanse him of his sins against the universe.
And… maybe… he could allow himself, just this once, to experience that wanton, forbidden pleasure. Just once, he could take reward for all that he had suffered.
Couldn't he?
It would feel so good. It would make him feel alive, knowing that he was teetering on a fine line between ecstasy and mortal peril…
The Doctor, burning with shame, ran a trembling palm down his own body, over his flat stomach, his skin catching on the rough fabric of his clothing. He ran his hand over his hard, aching cock, squeezing himself through the cloth of his trousers as though that should be enough to sate him; enough to make him turn around, go back to his ship of time and space, and forget every unwilling impulse awakening in his body.
Time Lords didn't do this. Time Lords stayed in control. Time Lords restrained themselves; they pushed away such shameful, corporeal desires.
But this was something… something different. A longing, a yearning he'd had for so long.
Scotland, 1879.
Over a century in the past, but only a few years ago, for him.
He'd seen a creature like this, back then. Like this, but not quite the same. He'd been fascinated by it.
But there had also been danger, important people to save, his Rose to protect. There had been more urgent, important things to focus on, enabling him to push such petty infatuations aside. It had been easier then for this reprehensible craving within him to be controlled and ignored.
But now this… Transformation, before his eyes. He'd not seen it happen before. He'd got there too late, last time.
It was something he'd always wanted to witness, but now that it was happening… it affected him in ways he didn't know how to deal with.
He tried to come to his senses. The creature in the clearing was preoccupied with its own metamorphosis, but any moment now… the manwolf could catch his scent on the air. The Doctor knew he was expelling the odour of cold sweat and of sensual pheromones. He could smell it on himself.
And to the fully transformed wolf, all he would be is fresh meat.
He should turn and run, he knew that. He should go back to the TARDIS, get away from this place, and fight down what he was feeling. If he left now, the manwolf might never even know he was there.
But… oh, there was still some obligation of responsibility within him. As the last Time Lord, it was almost melded into his very chromosomes. He had a duty to find out what this creature was, what it wanted. To ensure it meant no harm to anyone else.
That thought was in the back of his head, true, and he took comfort from the fact that this wasn't purely a selfish undertaking.
But… the Doctor did have other thoughts on his mind. Dark, wanton thoughts that were unfamiliar to him.
The Doctor squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. His mind was fuzzy. He knew what he was doing was foolish and irrational. But he couldn't help himself.
He opened his eyes and took a deep breath. He slipped around the perimeter of the clearing, moving slowly, trying not to disturb any of the foliage as he went. Now he was round the back of the patch of Hawthorne bushes. He could see something black and shiny in the dim moonlight, barely hidden under a patch of leaves. Just a few more feet…
He snatched up the black bag full of clothing and dragged it backwards with him, back into the undergrowth and into hiding. He was almost panting as he bent over it and ripped a hole in the thin plastic with his fingernails. He pulled out the creased t-shirt lying at the top.
The Doctor clutched the clothing in both hands, brought it up to his nose and inhaled the scent on it; the smell of the man who was turning into a wolf mere yards away from him. The Time Lord had a keen sense of smell, maybe not as sharp as the owner of this shirt, but better than the average human's.
The scent on the clothing was more than just perspiration, old deodorant and skin particles, more than the odour of an ordinary human male. It had notes of wild animal; of the promise of hunting and of blood.
The scent in the Doctor's nostrils was the tang of ruination and of salvation. It was more than that. It was unique. And it was driving the Doctor insane.
The Doctor shook his head, reproachful. But he couldn't help it. Lycanthropy just… did something to him, something he couldn't explain. He'd never even been able to admit it to himself until now.
The Doctor fell to his knees, hands scrabbling at the fastening of his trousers and pushing aside the fabric, finally freeing his hard, aching erection. The cool night breeze was soothing on his heated flesh.
He moaned softly as he took himself into his hand, stroking urgently. He looked up through stinging eyes, watching as the naked man in the moonlight rapidly grew a pelt of dark, shiny hair all over his body. The man's face had elongated, skull bones cracking and reforming as a wolf's maw developed, saliva dripping from the extended fangs.
The manwolf still looked to be in great pain, but was no longer making any sounds, other than a muted whimpering. Perhaps he couldn't speak anymore. The change was almost complete.
"Oh… you are beautiful…" the Doctor breathed, completely undone. His hands were shaking, his thighs trembling under his own bodyweight. It didn't take long. He grunted as he came, spurting messily on to the blue fabric of the crumpled t-shirt lying on the ground beneath him.
The Doctor hung his head for a moment, panting and trembling with the aftershocks. It had been a rushed and unsatisfactory orgasm, but that was only to be expected.
He held his hand up to the moonlight; saw it shining wetly with traces of his own fluids. He wanted to feel ashamed and disgusted at himself, but somehow now it was easy to push those negative emotions away. He'd punished himself enough these last few months; further self-reproach would serve no purpose, he decided.
He wiped the remaining traces of the thick juices from his fingers onto the t-shirt, crumpled it up around the small puddle of opaque fluid slowly soaking into the fabric, and pushed it back into the bin bag.
He paused to tuck himself away and pull up the zip of his trousers. Then he stood and looked through the trees, to see what the manwolf was doing now.
The lupine creature had gone. The Doctor took a slow intake of breath. He should have been watching! He fumbled in his pocket for the life sign scanner.
Seconds later… well, it all happened so fast. A huge, hot weight rammed into his back; heated breath blowing across the back of his neck. The force of the blow knocked the Doctor sprawling to the ground onto his stomach. The scanning equipment flew out of his hand and skittered across the dense, rough ground into the undergrowth.
The Doctor, without thinking, rammed an elbow backwards and caught his assailant a glancing blow, enough to enable him to push backwards and gain enough room to slither out from under the weight of his attacker. The Doctor crawled forwards on his hands and knees.
He barely had time to roll over onto his back before the manwolf was on top of him again; a heavy, hairy weight pressing him down into the dirt and bracken. The fully formed wolf's gaping jaws were inches from his face; strands of saliva were dribbling onto him.
It didn't look like an ordinary canine wolf. It looked a little like the lupine haemovariform the Doctor had been forced to deal with in Scotland some years earlier, but it possessed some dissimilar features, as though it were of a slightly different species.
This wolf was bipedal like the last one, but not quite as huge. It was only a little taller than the Doctor himself, but was no less impressive. This creature obviously possessed terrific strength. His front limbs ended in deadly claws, but still had a semblance of hands, rather than paws. The manwolf's eyes were yellow, animal-like and feral, but there was still a glow of human intelligence in them, the Doctor could see. Was there still a trace of the ordinary man inside it?
The lycanthrope was hesitating, the Doctor realised. It sensed that this was no ordinary prey. There was something unique about the Time Lord that it couldn't quite fathom.
The Doctor cautiously raised a hand up to the back of the lycanthrope's head, and stroked gingerly down the fur behind one pointed ear. The creature growled softly in the back of its throat, but not aggressively. The Doctor brought the same hand around and between their faces, and let the wolf sniff at it.
The wolf growled again, but the tone was different. It acknowledged the scent of sex and desire, and recognised it as one of its own hungers.
The Doctor swallowed hard. The sharp tips of the claws pressing against his shoulders dug into his flesh, through the thick fabric of his suit lapels, holding him prone. The creature pressed his nose into the soft hollow of the Doctor's throat and sniffed, slowly and thoroughly.
The Doctor held completely still, his hearts thumping almost painfully hard in his chest. The weight of the manwolf on top of him bore down, restricting his ability to breathe. The added body heat against him brought fresh sweat to the Doctor's forehead.
The Doctor shifted his thighs apart slowly, feeling the creature slide heavily into the gap between them.
The wolf was pressing its hot body against him, snuffling against his throat, growling softly in the back of its throat. The claws pressed downwards, dragging the collar of the Doctor's shirt down far enough for the top buttons to come undone. The creatures tongue snaked out and licked the Doctor across his freshly exposed collarbone.
The Time Lord let out a gasp. This was all… a little too much.
Oh, for a sprig of mistletoe! His hand slipped from the wolf's head as he moved it slowly and carefully across his own chest, feeling the back of his hand brush against the soft fur of the softly whimpering creature lying on top of him; until he could slide numb, trembling fingers into his inside pocket and retrieve his sonic screwdriver.
"I'm sorry," he muttered as he pressed the button on the sonic's side, and a high pitched screech filled the clearing, reverberating and echoing around the trees.
The lycanthrope threw back its head and yowled angrily, and the Doctor took the opportunity of pushing both hands against the creature's chest with all his might, until he could slither out from beneath him.
The Doctor jumped to his feet, bouncing lightly on his toes, ready to flee. He should have run away then, but he took one last, lingering look at the manwolf, seeing its front limbs clawing at the ground in distress.
The Doctor switched off the sonic, and the clearing was bathed in absolute silence once more. The manwolf stood, looked at the Doctor, and whimpered. It wasn't a sound of pain. It had a deeper, sadder quality. As the Doctor watched, the lycanthrope sniffed at the air, until it traced the source of the scent that was driving it mad.
The black bin bag filled with soiled clothing lay forgotten in the dirt a few feet away.
The Time Lord backed off as the animal leapt forwards and attacked the bag, ripping it to shreds, to get to what was inside.
After a moment, the creature paused in its assailment and turned its yellow eyes to the Doctor.
"Yes… that's my scent. You know me now," the Time Lord murmured, nodding resolutely, as he slowly backed away.
The lycanthrope let him leave without further threat and turned his attentions back to the black bag, as the Doctor turned tail and fled.
*****
The Doctor walked slowly through the trees, in the direction of the TARDIS, deep in thought. The shallow scratches on his shoulders and exposed neck and chest were stinging. It felt good.
Nevertheless, the wounds would need to be seen to, when he got back to his ship.
There was the scent of wolf on him, dirt and particles of crushed leaves on his clothing, and mud on his shoes. There was lingering wetness between his thighs. The Doctor should have felt unclean, even a little ashamed, but he didn't. He felt more alive than he had in a long time.
He knew now that he couldn't just leave this place. He had to find out what that organism was. He might be dangerous. What happened in Scotland a hundred and thirty years ago might be happening again. He had a feeling that this was something different, but he had to make sure. It was his duty.
And any… personal interest he might have had in the lycanthrope was purely incidental.
*****
Some hours later, the Doctor, washed and in a clean suit, was back in the undergrowth, watching from a distance as the manwolf caught and ate a small woodland creature. It looked like some sort of weasel or shrew.
The Doctor felt a small pang of sympathy for the small mammal, but he couldn’t argue with the natural order of the food chain.
Even when he possessed the uncomfortable knowledge that he had now made himself a part of it.
The Doctor's reverie was broken by the sound of the creature howling, this time in pain again. He looked up into the sky. It was nearly daybreak. Transformation back to the human form must be just as painful, he realised, with all those bones reforming, skin and muscles shrinking back, hair reverting into follicles.
The Doctor retrieved the life form scanner from its abandoned spot under an old elm and put it back into his pocket. Then he picked up the small fold-out camping chair he had leaned temporarily against the same tree, tightened his grip on the Thermos flask in his hand and the bundle of clothing under his arm, and made his way through the brushwood towards the wolf who would soon once again be a man.
It was time for him to make a new friend.
*****
George let go of the Doctors' lapels and looked into the eyes of the alien. Then he looked at his own hands, seeing that his nails were a little sharper and thicker.
They would soon be claws.
He had another sudden flash of memory, of lying on top of this… man. A man who wasn't a man. Of his sharp claws pressing into the not-man's flesh through the rough cloth of his clothes.
George sagged. He tottered backwards and felt the metal edge of the medical examination behind him, and sat down on it.
He couldn't usually remember anything about being a wolf except random feelings and the most primitive of thoughts.
But he remembered the scent of alien flesh, an intoxication that he'd had to have more of. He remembered the
scent of a man... but not a man
it is rich and ancient and powerful it is
life
power
lust
it is the end to a craving
the scent of the not-man is
the path to satiation of a hunger more base than the need for food
it is the scent of my quarry
but prey that will lay back and be taken without a fight
this is what I want
need want NEED
Oh God!
this is what my prey wants
But it's wrong!
I am not an animal!
hungry
No! I am a human. Human. Not a wolf. I am a human and my name is George
this is my quarry it wants to be taken and clawed and bitten and abandoned
No!
and i will take it
"And I don't care…" whispered George. His eyes were filled with tears. "When I'm a wolf… I don't care. I just… need. To hunt. To just… take." He bit his lip. "There is this hunger inside me, and it takes every little, tiny last effort, every remaining trace of my humanity to not… just… find someone and take what I want from them."
"Because you do care," said the Doctor softly.
George shook his head violently. "I hate it!" he snarled.
He looked at the Doctor, with pain in his eyes. "You said you could help me," said George accusingly.
The Doctor shook his head. "I said I might be able to. But don’t you see? I can help you! Not in the way you mean, I can't cure you of what you are..."
George bent over and screamed. He fell on to his knees.
"George… oh, George… I'm so sorry…" the Doctor knelt by his side and tenderly stroked his face. George's eyes were yellow now, and his mouth was filled with what were almost fangs. He could still speak, but only just.
"You… did that… you made me learn your scent… as though I were a dog! That scent of you, of your… oh God. You wanted to have sex with me!" George's voice was high-pitched with indignation, but he didn't look or sound as horrified as he wanted to, and that made him even angrier.
"It wasn't just that…" the Doctor looked stricken. "I… needed to know what you are. You fascinate me, yes... but it's not just…"
"Stay away from me!" George hissed. His arm lashed out and caught the Doctor on the side of the face. The Doctor, on his haunches, fell sideways and onto the floor with the force of the blow.
George stood and ran out of the room, whimpering and growling as he went.
The Doctor didn't go after him. The journey from the lab to the control room was fairly easy to remember and he knew that in a few moments George would be out of the TARDIS and long gone into the night.
He sat up and rubbed a hand ruefully over the aching area of his jaw.
He should take his TARDIS and leave. To stay in this location and set the coordinates to travel forwards in time to the night of the next full moon would be foolish. Presumptuous. An insult, even.
He stood up on aching legs and dusted himself down. The monitor closest to him was still beeping and flashing "error" over and over.
Error. Always getting it wrong these days, old man.
He reached out and pressed a switch, and the incessant bleeping stopped. His fingers lingered on the control.
He remembered how the skin of George's face felt, soft beneath his fingertips.
He took a long, slow intake breath and withdrew his hand. Shoved it into his pocket.
There was no harm in hanging around here for a while. Well, silly to just sit here. He could just take a trip a few weeks into the future. The weather would be better next month. Warmer. He could take a nice long walk in the sun. And it was nice here, in the woods. He was getting in touch with nature.
The Doctor set off walking back through to the console room.
He couldn't just give up on George. He wouldn't give up on him.
That's what friends were for.
To be continued
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Five
Chapter Six