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Teacher's Pet part 15

Synopsis: The Doctor steps into his role as the wolf in this game, fully.

A/n: I had to tone down some of this smut. So it's a bit shorter than intended. Elsewise I fear the worst of tumblrs filtration system. LOL! Enjoy! Love you alllllll!

Apparently a young, fresh companion of his future self had formed this support group after several bad experiences and being dumped back on earth ‘for her safety’.

He didn’t have time to care for whatever this distraction was. He already was at the point of near-snapping. He was not going to risk anything into the future. Live under false pretenses. The cords of the actions set would not weaken under these new stressors…

Obviously, his little fawn would die. Obviously, he’d regenerate. Obviously, this would end.

He drew a line in the sand, no peeking at her or his shared fate.

Meeting her at the front of UNIT, and trying the best to not record any facet of this future girls face or being. Doing so would be a catastrophe, just skate down around and go off into the afternoon and his plans.

A perfect date that would further enchant his pet fawn to his side. Especially since she now had the nattering of other voices in her head regarding him. He had to undo the damage. Keep her from cleaving herself from his side.

He admitted to himself that he was spiraling- and just about ready to cross another line. It was just now a matter of how, and how far…

He set that in a corner of his brain how he would go about this.

She was currently entranced by the arrangement of coffees the café and the cacti available. He would have launched into a diatribe about flowers, but she was leading the charge here.

She was oddly well-versed in the secret meaning one could send another. He was impressed. A secret hyperfixation.

He indulged her and him.

One particular flower meant ‘I give you my soul’. He made a note to buy her some. A shallow offering. As he sold his soul long ago. Her knowledge of these meanings and the gesture would go on to create a meaningful ripple effect in the relationship.

Dinner was great, and a perfect segue to the new levels he needed to take.

It was a very deliberate. Give her a small glance, or trail up her exposed skin and a small hit of her own hormones amped up with a mental reimbursement. She was already becoming undone from her own natural need for him. The secondary reinforcement from him was just foreplay.

Humans loved a bit of touch.

This human was definitely no exception.

After a while, the perfect idea dawned on him. A less overt invasion than when they consummated the success of the term’s end the other week. A quieting one. Make up for the directed hormonal release by appealing to darker desires. He knew the thoughts she held for him. Play into some of those fantasies while he shut down the dissent from within.

He paid for the meal and playfully dragged his fawn into a cab, a bit of dancing…and a bit of glamor. He fully realized that there was no turning back now.

The darkness inside him grinned.

He grinned back.

She wasn’t the most agile at the waltz they preformed. A natural-born klutz. The way she was looking at him reminded him so much of the gaze that she held when they first made true contact. Intrigued, deeply in thought, a bit distracted but firmly all for him.

Eventually, the last call for drinks at the dance hall rang. He paid their tab.

He absconded off with her in tow. Back to UNIT. Back to their room. Back for the next phase in his own self-corruption.

She planted a kiss on his forehead as she went off to get herself ready for bed.

The Doctor started stripping himself down to his bare flesh, save for his boxers.

She came back, with a thick layer of product smeared onto her chest, neck and face.

“I’d like to try something new with you. Always been a secret that I’ve had since we’ve started this…” He lied, like a liar. “But I’ve been so concerned about your fragile human body…”

She finished rubbing some hand crème in.

“Oh?” Her eyebrow arched itself over the ridge of her forehead.

“I want to take you on a chair. I want to bend you over, grab a fist-full of your hair as you dangle over the top and have my way with you.” He didn’t fully elaborate what exactly fantasies she held, just put the carrots out and have her think.

“We could do that. Bit tired, but sure! I’m game!” She started to remove her robe.

He pounced and ripped it and her clothes off, tearing them in the process. Hungry kisses he began laying on her as he spun her around and took one wrist to march her over to the chair in the room. (‘Cuck chair’ he delightfully recalled her calling it weeks previously…)

She started to get on willingly, it wasn’t enough. He picked her up and placed her in the position he saw in her mind. The chair let out a little creaking noise with the weight of her.

He bit the back of her neck, not hard enough to deter her income-base, but enough that it would leave a pleasurable bruise. Gone within a week at maximum.

His cock stood at attention. Hard and aching from it all. He had to have and fully make sure she’d never stray or even think of leaving him. He’d been, quite frankly, nursing a little bit of a stiffness down there since she smacked his ass and snogged him on the Tube.

He grabbed at her hair like a leash on a dog and slid himself in to her cunt and her mind.

A man on a mission…

He kept pushing himself in and out of her, but going deeper into her brain. He found the brush she had with his past and future companions. He quieted these voices and the doubts they gave permanently. Still allowing her to keep the friendships blooming and the memories, but revoking the feelings of inadequacy and the fears of the future. The doubts. The everything. A very delicate and deliberate job.

The pruning was difficult, as her mind was very distracted by the current sensations of him pulling her neck back to a semi-dangerous level. Just to kiss her on the lips and tell her, “What a perfectly filthy girl you’re being…” That shuffled her brain like a deck of cards.

The words, especially, they made her audibly shiver. He briefly let go.

He grasped a fistful of her hair again and pressed his mouth once more to her neck. He slid himself to the absolute maximum her tight cunt could handle. He bit down, gently touching the new wound with his tongue. Savoring the taste of her neck, now inflamed so close he swore he could taste her blood through the developing bruise…

He grazed her ear lobe with his eye-tooth and breathed a hot, needy breath into it, he rolled her one nipple in the

He inhaled her hair once more. Its scent just as delicious and just as addictive as he was trying to be to her…

Gently, he laid her back into her stomach over the chair’s back. Her back was beautiful as he ran his hands up and down it, raking his nails like the claws of the wolf he kept coming back to in his analogies.

He pressed his full body weight down, tilting the chair into the wall and bracing, it, her and him from total disrepair. Or concussion.

A concussion on her brain would undo all his fine-tuning and actually make it harder to deal with her mind.

And he needed it in as best of condition as he could have it!

He kept his pace up as he leaned down to bite her nape of the neck, carried away, he drew a tad bit of blood. It dotted itself up around the divots of the fresh wound.

He flooded her mind discreetly once more. Bringing her to her first orgasm mentally. His work was done and fine tuned.

He sped up his pace and grabbed her up by the collarbone. Sliding her down over his knees, firmly set in the seat of it. He grabbed her legs and slid them over and tucked her feet and ankles between the backs of his calves and thighs.

He drilled her more, tougher, the rate he went bordered on blood-lust. He couldn’t tell if her cries and grunts were in pain or pleasure. He went back in to her mind to see if he was going to far.

He wasn’t. It was both.

It egged him on, he unexpectedly lost control and he came before he wanted to. He went on as he felt himself coming to bring her another orgasm with her mind, and forced her body to react accordingly…

He relinquished his hold on her body and got out of her and stood up. She slumped over. Shivering. Shaking. Breathing heavily.

The Doctor didn’t know what all he was feeling. Pride, disgust, relaxation? A mixture? It was a tad too overwhelming.

He had to go to her…

He moved to the side of the chair, crouching down. Finding eye-contact. She had a very unreadable expression on her face.

“Hey, how are you?” He went for the simplest route.

“I…think….you fucked…my brains out. Not exaggerating. I feel like people say. Fuck.” She exhaled after a minute of reflection and catching her breath.

He peeled her off the chair and carried her to the bed. He laid her simply on her back, head up.

“I think I need to buy another set of pajamas now.” She turned her head over and looked at the pile of ruined cloth on the ground.

“You were so good.” He praised her.

“And you weren’t too bad yourself…” She replied, again. Keeping herself, and by extension him, in check.

After what felt like several hours, but was in all actuality, fifteen minutes, she pulled her body off the bed.

“I need to shower again. Yeah.” Her voice as quiet as a fall of a grain of sand.

“I’ll join you. If we need to sleep, we’ll need to be cleaned.” He said.

They showered, she redid her skincare, and they held each other in bed.

She was asleep, he didn’t need to sleep.

As he gazed at the wall, and contemplated the meeting with Gwen Cooper-Williams the next day, it dawned on him:

The beginnings of the story of Little Red Riding Hood was a folklore in the deep dark annals of European history. A dark passionate tale in origin about the defilement of a young maiden and a beastly wolf-man way beyond her years. In some, the wolf-man left her and she killed herself from being impure. In some, she was corrupted and became worse than him. Really depended upon the cultural values of the little tribes telling this shared story.

And here he was, living the fairytale out in real time.

It was up to him now, this wolf had a choice.

And he would not let either happen.

The hunt was finished.

Now to fully devour.

Game over.

⭐️💐💞🌹🌼🍉⚡️🌺💛🌈🌷🍐✨🌾🍄💫🐚☀️

please reblog to let your mutuals and followers know you love them even when they can’t love themselves

💐✨🌈🍉🌺⭐️🐚💞🌾⚡️☀️🌷💛🍄🍐🌼💫🌹

Teacher's Pet part 6

Synopsis: The game is set, and the players are playing. The Doctor and the Reader...what will go on?

A/n: I'm laughing evily. Also, I'm in good spirits, had a phenomenal day. This one is a bit longer. Turns out if you have little responsibility, besides yourself, you can bang out a banger. Also, listen to Maria by Justin Bieber.

You saw the Gmail alert go off on your phone as you changed into a suitable cute outfit and did your first layer of work make up. You were out of luck, there was a new girl in and she was getting the VIP treatment with the largest suite offered. You were moisturizing yourself before you dared to look. You really couldn’t be arsed if it was a personal email on your private account. And you didn’t need the anxiety if it was on your school account. You were angry that you didn’t have enough room to stretch out or put emotional distance between a man and you, if the situation provided required it.

You got yourself perfect, as there were already some cars in the car park. Probably a bit of stress relief before these men went home to their wives and kids. They’d blame traffic. Probably.

You didn’t know or care. Their lives seemed like parallel universes. Hypothetical. Unproven. Just a theory.

You decided to give yourself another dusting of antiperspirant before checking your phone.

It was fucking him…

You opened it,

“Dear (y/n),

It’s a shame that you’re not well. I’ll see you at the same time as last week. Secure the notes from someone.

Cordially yours,

Professor Smith.”

And that’s the name of that tune, you bitterly scoffed. You tossed your phone onto the table you had it rest on with the rest of your needs for work.

Seemed up his alley to wreck your focus! With his stupid face and stupid lust for life!

Plus, being on your phone was not focused on your bag.

Out of sight, out of mind..

You said “Hello” to the security guy again on your way to the bar. A few men were there and you had hours to go before your first appointment. One of the other girls working was talking to two at once. One was in deep discussion with the bartender and the phone girl.

One man was nursing a beer and was watching something on his phone. A target.

Good.

You walked over and put in the work. He was easily satisfied and went back to the bar and nursed another beer before getting up and leaving.

You actually had a good day and napped easily before you went on your second shift. You had plenty of money and dropped a fat, crisp twenty note in front of the homeless person outside the shops.

You bought a pack of cigarettes and smoked one on your way back to the cloister of your “office”. You let out a shaky cough. It had been over a week since your last one, so obviously, the smoke hit your lungs harshly.

Damn that man!

You napped some more before returning to work. Fresh outfit, even more make up. A spritz of perfume to hide the scent of smoke in the hair…

A whole routine.

Friday night was lucrative to the point of pain. You had to tell your manager and booking girl that you were going on a walk and needed a break.

You took your phone, bundled up, and your headphones.

It was after midnight, dangerous, but whatever. Keep to the area.

You had a wonderful time, the few cigarettes you consumed and the Fanta you drank restored you. The music was a good thing.

Suddenly the air felt heavy. And you felt observed. Something on the back of your neck. The hairs. It felt perverse. You paused your music and took out your headphones long enough to hear a weird, distinctive “vwrorrp-vworrp” followed by what sounded like a car wheezing.

Whatever the hell it was-it freaked you out enough to go back in the safety of the car park.

You finished up and went back. Had a quick shower and started preparing for the next chapter of your work shift.

You hated the stupid schedule system, but shifts like this made it all worth it.

Saturday was just a bit slower and Sunday, outside some bookings that were already scheduled was glacial and dry. Bad fishing.

Thank heavens for Thursday and Friday! You thought. You made bank, and had some fun. Always a good thing. And the manager got you all some fancy pizza in celebration of the new girl surviving her first rotation. And her deciding that all this was worth some more time to sell.

The manager really must have taken a shine to her. That never happened.

All in all? Good work. You could rest easy for the rest of the week. And pay off bills. And afford to shop at a fancy health food store instead of probably junk, loaded with shit, that’ll kill you quicker.

Yippee!

You had barely thought of your little distraction all weekend, until Monday.

Your alarm went off. And you remembered you hadn’t responded to him.

“Thanks! Sorry for the late reply! I was busy! I’ll be there!” It was quick, apologetic and mostly-honest.

Him.

You cursed yourself out. The minute he came into focus, you were a bigger mess than you were ever before!

You messaged someone who you knew had probably had the notes from Thursday. No such luck. And your little meeting was looming large.

You’d have to tell him the truth, you fucked up. No notes.

Deciding to revel in the mundane, before leaving, you made yourself a nice cup of mint tea with honey. You sat in a corner wrapped in your blanket and luxuriate in the warmth of the tea and the rest of the blanket pile. You wasted a few minutes on social media. Drowning your brain cells seemed like a good idea. A distraction for you from the returned knot in your stomach and hole in your heart that your stupid crush on Professor Smith had caused. A very welcome one.

After all, you did have couple thousand pound weekend! A freak occurrence! Rare! So why not indulge in some mindless self care?

After a while, you made the smart choice and readied yourself for school and the war zone that being locked in the office with him would be.

The class you had in the morning slipped by with your focus becoming increasingly erratic. You didn’t want to go, but you trudged into the bathroom to psych yourself up. Not out..

Finally stable, you trudged your way to your new Hell. A concept that, up until this semester, was comical to you.

You felt like a clown.

Booboo the Fool.

You had to laugh at yourself. Buy yourself a clown nose and ship yourself off to the circus!

Pathetic!

You knocked raptly. Maybe you’d just go into a manic state or overdrive and the time would fly away and you’d go back to life. And he would potentially be scared of you enough to back off and not encourage any more meetings besides what your schedule permitted…

He welcomed you in, offered to take your jacket and pulled out the chair for you.

“I had my assistant get me some hot chocolate for us.” He gestured over to some disposable cups lodged into one of those cardboard cup holder things.

The fuck was he doing? Had you passed out and entered dream world? Was he tormenting you? Did he know that you were just head over heels for him?

“Thanks…” You said and took it. You off-handedly wished you had those strips that you could test if a drink had been fucked with. Not that you’d accuse him of it. Or rather that you leapt to the conclusion that he was trying to. Life had taught you that free drinks from men sometimes came with consequences.

You reassured yourself that he was still besotted with his dead wife. The total badass.

You envied her. She got what you clearly desired.

You swallowed a sip.

He seemed casual. Had a simple jumper on over his body and a pair of dark jeans. You noticed he wore Doc Martens. Very ageing punk rocker. The jumper hung on his chest quite well. He was skinny, but you could see his chest was sturdy.

“So, did you get your notes?” He smiled, all of his teeth showing. He seemed to know something. There was a bizarre glint in his eye. It was as freaky as it was mesmerizing.

“No, didn’t get a chance. I’m going to the school tutoring soon. I’ll talk to them about it. My fault. The weekend got away from me. I was swamped at work. And then I forgot. I’m sorry.” You blabbered on, deeply apologetic.

You prayed in your mind that if Gd was listening, for him to open a hole up in the planet, swallow you whole, and that you were sorry for that one time you accidentally ate a cheeseburger drunk.

Among other sins…

“Then I have to educate you from scratch. You remember on Tuesday we were talking about the nature of the universe and what it owes us? If it owes us?”

“Yes.” You added a keen head-shake. Remembering how you fled the room and had a mental breakdown.

“What if you put in the work? For years. Centuries even. Battled with the darkness in yourself and others. Saved all you could save. Then what? Would the universe grant you a favor? What would you do to garner that favor?”

You were losing the plot. Clearly.

“What if you were timid and didn’t mean to tread on things? Just survived. Suffered a bit, nothing to write home about, but still enough to Mar your soul? Did what you had to. Would the universe grant you mercy in form of a favor?”

Seemed like this was bordering on less of philosophy and more of theology. Something a small child would pester their rabbi or priest or imam or whatever about. But that was first glance.

Secondary seemed like it was flying too close to the sun.

Self-descriptive much?

God complex?

You slung an arm on your chair and settled back. A game? Is that was he was getting at?

“If the universe owed someone something, that would be antithetical. If you’re bargaining with a God, which is what it seems that you are proposing…Gods usually don’t answer you unless you give them a good offer first.” Your tongue clicked forward, you could feel your eyes making a push forward, widening.

You could play along.

“Are you making an offering to a deity? Dear professor…” You crossed your arms and leaned forward.

You saw something pass over his face. A trillion different micro-calculations. Several amused and several dark looks.

He swallowed.

What was his deal? You mused before trying a new string of words.

“Or are you the God here?” You blasphemed…pursing your lips. Biting the skin under them.

More emotions shot through his painfully attractive face. The lines on his face seemed to glimmer deeper.

He swallowed harder. A singular eyebrow arched up.

Seriously, those things were weapons.

“What if I am?” He breathed out.

“Does that make your students your devotees?” You pushed a bit further…

He slinked over to the chair and leaned forward. Fully turning his eyes unto your soul. “Oh, maybe you’d enjoy that.” He smoothed out his voice, directly into your mind. It seemed to echo into the corners of your skull. Vibrating.

You would enjoy it. Too much.

Your body and mind felt flushed and overheated. The office seemed to get as hot as a midsummer day on the beach.

“So, does the universe get what it’s owed, (y/n)?”

Your breathing quickened and your throat got dry. You reached (well more like flailed…) for your beverage. A big gulp, not breaking eye contact.

“Are you a devotee? To come worship at the altar?” He questioned further. Placing both of those incredible hands at the sides of the chair. Leaning further forward. His cool breath hitting your face. It smelled fresh. Not like good oral hygienic skills, but something foreign and strong. Striking, and a little addictive. You could spend the rest of your life trying to find a word to describe it further, or something to compare the scent to. It’s was…incredible. And maybe edible.

Barely two inches stayed between your noses. If you were a computer, you would have blue screened.

Your were human, and could afford no such luxury, sadly.

The pit of your stomach closed up.

An increasingly rare, but familiar throb coursed through you as warmth accelerated its way through your body. Rocking your core. Your heart was rocketing for the moon. You started to sweat. Literally.

You clenched yourself. Literally squeezed your legs together. To stop yourself from coming undone. From going deeper under this spell he cast on you.

But too late!

Far too late!

You already were becoming quite undone. Wet in more ways than just the sweat now forming on your brow and your back.

You knew what he was getting at. But didn’t want to conceded the victory to him…

Why did he make you buckle?

And more importantly, why did he seem to want you to buckle?

The trap was set, it was elaborate and elegant. He even provided drink and ambiance! How could you be so blind?

Especially you!

A shoe on the other foot…

You felt in a verbal checkmate.

“Maybe.” You choked out finally after a short eternity. Your heart raced faster still, threatening to break through it’s cage.

“Maybe isn’t good enough.” Another breath washed over your face. The gap between your noses closed to barely an inch.

You buckled…

Teacher's Pet part 11

Synopsis: The Doctor's morals slip further. It's become obvious to him that he needs to develop some actual strategy.

A/n: I'm so sorry it's been another gap in writing...if any of yall are still vibin with it, sound off!! Thanksss (I'm going to try to push more out quicker soon. Again!)

In the car ride home, he calculated. This situation almost was a faltering car crash in itself!

He nearly lost her, and to his own stupid pride!

He spent the entire car ride juggling with his morality. Taking curious little half-peeks into her brain. It seemed a bit past due, this. He finally gave in no small way…

At one end, they were chattering on. Her mind was racing around in many convergent pathways on the topics brought up. Anything from her probing about various curiosities. And the deep philosophical ranges he would invoke, just to keep her brain in a frenzy. It would be easier to parse down through and pierce. Missy, the Rani and he got top marks at the Academy on a project involving chaos and order in the arts of mind reading. He was stunned by the sheer amount of seemingly superfluous knowledge that she had crammed in there. Even though he knew she was smart, clever and balanced differently than your average human.

At the other, he was searching. Seeing what (y/n) was up to, planning out. Past what she said, what she thought and thought she said and thought. She was still a bit angry and was trying her hardest to let go, and not be jealous. She was fighting naming what she felt for him as love. There was quite the struggle with inner hypocrisy.

One small part of her genuinely was enamored with the thoughts that he chose her. That he seemed truthful that he wanted her to grow old alongside him in his retirement. Whatever that looked like. She was still reeling about the (as stated frequently in her brain…) “Fucking ageless alien bit”.

She had some caveats that she was going to bring up, later, of course. She didn’t want to spoil the weekends happy afterglow.

He could feel the choking nature of her holding her tongue in his brain as he went in deeper.

It felt so illicit! He wasn’t one to be like this, he’d have to go scream at Missy for this later, but it was freeing. He finally understood the humans and their gossip rags.

“I don’t endorse that behavior, but I agree with some of their points.” She admitted, in the real-life conversation. He snapped himself out of her mind.

She never stopped surprising him. Even now, as he held the inter-workings of her brain in his hand. It seemed that she’d always thwart him and his understandings.

Although, she was very distracted by his physicality, and that would be an advantage to him. She was very docile in that regards. Different from what he could tell went on in her work.

He would have to go down new avenues…

Or would he? She’d already so surrendered herself to the ideas of them.

He’d have to dwell in that later, maybe after his yelling session at Missy.

A perfect pet to keep on Earth, in her own time and place. Where nothing would ever rip her away from him…

The idea made him giddy.

Utterly addicted to it. Utterly ashamed of it.

Finally back to Bristol, she left and said she had to attend to her studies. Which was fine by him.

He descended into the Vault.

“Your parents were wrong! I’m not the bad influence, you are!” He entered pointer finger out, jacket fluttering behind him.

“I’d love to know what that high praise is for!” Missy jumped, almost shocked at this outburst.

“I’m out here invading people’s minds and rummaging around like it’s a toy chest!” He accused.

“Whatever happened to ‘Hello!’ or ‘How are you, haven’t seen you in months, Missy! How’s life?’ or even ‘Hey, Missy, here’s a tuba, I know you love ‘em!’?”

“That human girl…” He seethed, feeling remorse bubble up.

“Another ickle girlie dead?” Missy smiled, teeth showing, glinting with a venomous shine…

He felt her start to enter his mind and he let her in. Doors opened and she started sifting through the past months.

“Oh! This is too good!” She giggled, her hips swishing in her skirt.

“Naughty boy, Doctor! You’re tramping up with this girl.”

“We’re not that different after all! You with your…whore. Sorry, little Fawn. And me with my twenty-seven nuclear missiles!”

“What?”

“Oh, back when I was Prime Minister! I bought some missiles from some Russian man and I have them in a garden shed somewhere in Scotland. I forget where.”

He’d deal with that even later.

His head was physically painful as she didn’t take care and do an ounce of discretion as he did to (y/n)’s brain earlier.

“I want to meet her! Please!” She drew out the ‘please’ and clasped her hands together. “I promise to act cool.”

“One day, if you’re very good.”

“The best.” She bowed deeply.

“I always knew you’d loop around to do something like this. Ever since you started palling about with that Jo Grant. Lovely woman. But I knew you’d give in. You always have to have the prettiest companions on your arms. Vain and dirty old man.”

“I was pining for you.” The Doctor confessed.

“And I was pining for you, and Jo. Do you have a point?” She confessed back.

“Come on, you were always this close to ascending to god-like levels of delusion. I was the one to hold you back. And I was always going to become what I am. I may be many, many, many levels of crazy. But I’m honest about it…” .

The Doctor wiped his face.

“Yeah, I’ll leave you to this. I need to clear my head. I have work tomorrow. And to meet her.”

Missy just started making kissing noises and wrapping her arms around her body as if she were deep in a lover’s embrace.

The Doctor left the Vault. His brain in a state of chaos that wasn’t Missy’s making.

He wasn’t above certain things, but he had to remain a hero. Honor Clara’s bit of “Be the Doctor”. And to keep his reputation up. He felt positively furtive.

This wasn’t going to be an easy option. Dealing with Daleks? A walk in the park compared to his morals disintegrating around him over his attraction to a human woman.

Could he still be the Doctor? And be Professor Smith to her and others?

Why had this foresight not come to him as he and Nardole started this little façade…

He never thought he’d fall for another human again.

Stupid him.

Idiot Doctor.

Humans were always worming their way into his hearts.

It was inevitable…

He went to his office to prepare for the week.

He missed the smell of cigarette smoke and her sweat.

He hated the scent, but it reminded him of his fawn. He chose his pet name for her well…

The lone wolf that would pursue the separated fawn.

Very good metaphors.

He had his legitimate tutoring of her tomorrow, however. How could he leverage this? Make her further buckle into him…

What a sweet sin.

Her desire for him.

He recognized his unhealthy veering into base, carnal feelings. Haunting him.

The images of Earth’s own myths of fallen angels danced in his mind.

Was he a fallen angel here? Or was she?

He certainly was falling as an hero. The ethical moor of the universe.

Retiring from interstellar heroics and focusing on his dearest best enemy. Now he was leading a young woman into his web of interest.

Selfish.

Infinitely so…

Hadn’t he deserved it? Deserved it all.

He was the universe’s slave for a truly insane amount of years.

He was (to borrow a phrase…) the Master of His Own Fate. It was his birth right, not only as a Time Lord, but as the ultimate survivor of every wound the Time War had brought out. The savior and destroyer of all of creation.

He was owed this.

The Doctor was now demanding this.

Zero compromises. Even if that was bad optics…

His thoughts became a lust-filled power trip.

He taught his classes and set up his office for tutoring. He was unwilling to part with pretense. Of course, he’d educate her! It was her right! She paid for it!

But the trap…

The glimmering trap of self.

The uneasy shift in morality turned over in his brain like a car’s engine on a frosty day.

How deep was he actually willing to go, to not only have his selfish needs taken care of? How much of a betrayal of self and his past would he commit to? Could he?

And her…precious her…mostly unaware of how much fire she was playing with.

He got her a coffee just as she liked and set up the office, he let the bright light of the Spring day stream in through the windows.

After some deliberation, he took the huge tapestry off where he tucked his TARDIS.

“Sorry, old girl. Maybe one day you’ll get a chance…” He muttered, stroking the wood of the door, lightly brushing the lock.

He felt unworthy to stand in it’s unveiled presence, but it would help the game shift…

She came in, all plain clothes and awkward grace. Herself at her core.

Today, she was overzealous with her perfume and looked beyond tired.

He didn’t probe her mind.

“I’m assuming that’s your ship.” She stated, a look that could be easily misconceived flashed across her face.

“Vintage.” She described it aptly.

“In an effort of truthfulness…I’m showing you it.” He explained, approaching her slowly, coffee in hand extended.

She took it and followed with a large sip.

“I’m assuming it’s got some cloaking thing, I don’t know…like Star Trek or something?” She observed. “Not well, of course, but hey…we can’t really expect TV show-level perfection.”

He nodded.

He went for a half-truthful flatterer’s route. “On the ticket. So many are shocked and confused.”

She shrugged and sucked her teeth against her lips. “I’ve got fuck-all to do sometimes so…”

“Terms coming to an end soon, want to discuss the last of the notes and my lectures before exams? Or…” He alluded.

“Oh, yeah. No special treatment here, thanks. I need help.” She made a motion of a non-committal nature with her free hand as she placed the coffee down and unhindered herself from her hoodie and bag…

And they were off, talking about it all and the lessons of the course. She was apparently very determined to get by on her skills. Not wanting any of the favoritism that shtupping the teacher could have brought her marks…

Her sliding scale of morals amused him.

It was oddly complimentary.

It added layers to this little game she didn’t know she was playing.

“Some weekend, huh?” She said as time was beginning to run out. The awkward, reassuring smile and slouched body language completely opposite to her showy presentation on Saturday night.

“Not at all my plans.”

“Yeah, I could tell.” The shaky little half-chortle echoed across the room. She went to go chew on a hang nail. He gently removed her thumb from her mouth before she could bite the aggrieved area.

“I like Petronella. She’s a great person. She’s coming up to visit me over the summer holiday. And vice versa.”

“Meet me here tonight. More truthfulness…” He offered, a dangerous idea flickering into his brain and coming out of his mouth before he could control himself.

He have to project his messages to Missy at a mental scream all day. Give her guidelines…promising her the tuba she so desperately wanted. It’d probably be just as hefty an annoyance as her piano.

“At what time? And what?” She pushed.

“Oh, you’ll see… how about nine PM?”

She gave a little nod of her head.

They broke the meeting with a kiss.

He went off to teach, sending Missy the message and threats of many lifetimes…

Teacher's Pet part 10

Synopsis: Game is preserved by game. And what games can one play? What about rewards? Our two lovers share some special moments.

A/n: Hey bitches, guess who's back from mental health crisis! Meeee. I love you all and sorry for the inconvenience and lateness!!! Slammed this one out. Quickly. Before the madness leaves me. Yall the best. Thanks

Oh, that man, you thought as you trolled the shops. Furiously as you slid the hangers across. The sound of metal slightly shrieking put you on edge. If you had been not just a post-marriage thing, but the next in a long line of so-called ‘assistants’ or ‘companions’, then you’d be the best damn one he’d ever have.

He wanted to play like he was human, play house with you. Something he never did before, he told you. There was a comfort and a ring of truth in those words. A lie? You felt yourself question. Or was he actually just telling the truth?

Maybe alien men weren’t total pigs like human men…you reasoned with yourself.

So many thoughts were swimming in your mind.

You angrily scooped up a few dresses and made your way to the changing room.

You chose a black number, slightly strappy, mid-length and a lower square neckline. You brought a little cardigan and it would match perfectly. The way the skirt flared gently but still held some grip to your thighs was excellent at providing some semblance of elegance. It hit at your knee, classy.

Now onto shoes…

You got a message from your Doctor, you headed to a café.

It was all very nice. Trite, but felt authentic. His long fingers carding through your hair felt lovely. It felt like a return to what you had back in Bristol. Your mind was calm, placid and you felt a bit better about the whole damn thing.

Like your walls were removed.

Sooner or later, you had to get ready and then the ebb of dark thoughts came back in tiny waves. You got frustrated and just started patting on a thick layer of glitter, and maybe a tad bit too much highlighter cream on.

You caught your reflection in the mirror. You looked manic. Beautiful, but oh-so-fucking-crazy. You toned down things just a tad.

Just a tad, you still wanted to be breathtaking…

You went back and leaned on the bed and caught your breath. You did your breathing exercises and collected yourself and gave one final check in the reflection of the metal of the barrack wall.

Once joining him, the nerves subsided. You mentally wondered if he had some pheromones or something like that. It felt good, though, safe.

The evening began and you went out with nary a hitch.

He took you to see some contrived show about the nature of social media and the ephemeral nature of family. (And murder!) You tried to enjoy it, you really did, but in the dark of the theatre, his face pale enough to reflect the stage light and the fact you could feel an electric current running through the two of you as you leaned in or lightly touched, your mind went slightly south.

The man was too attractive for your own good. And your lack of attention span was driving you to look at his face most of the time.

Thankfully, the play ended.

Performers came out to bow, lights went up and you were ushered out.

He even treated you to a bit of a romantic dinner. Although, he did grumble about there not being a children’s menu.

Almost very human.

You let your entire guard down.

It was impossible to not.

This entire day was disarming. More disarming than yesterday!

Your conflicted feelings fell away more and more. Outside of little trips to London for this whole UNIT thing, you could go back to Bristol. Go back to being (y/n) and Professor Smith. Build something real. Build something tangible.

You loaded yourselves into a cab back to the UNIT head quarters. His hands were also distractions. They felt so cruelly good inside or on you. They were also emotive and caring. Creatures in their own rights.

Suddenly, you felt very brave and extra insane.

You wanted them inside you in this very cab. And damn it! You were going to get your way!

You grabbed one of his hands and placed it on your right thigh, and leaned in to his ear, your other hand lightly toying with his hair.

“Fuck me with your fingers. Here, now.” You whispered, your voice going slightly husky.

He looked at you, a severe look passed and faded before he let out a slight laugh. Soft, but with a hint of something behind it.

“Now, my fawn?” Slightly shocked, but a Cheshire grin came out.

“Right now.” You ordered gently, the whisper came out a more a huff of air than a spoken set of words.

“One moment.” He said, reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket. He grabbed something and pressed a button on it. It let a little noise.

“What is that?”

“Screwdriver, it’ll give us privacy. More or less.”

You nodded, a slightly slack-jawed, “Ah.” Escaped your mouth. “Some screwdriver.”

“You don’t even understand the half of it.” He said, as he leaned in to kiss your jaw and placed on hand at the hollow of your throat.

When he finally worked his way to your pussy, he slid with a finger your panties over.

“Already so soaked? Good girl…” He cheesed.

It made your head roll back. In your moment of ballsy control, he somehow made himself the one in charge. A mental flip over…

And you didn’t particularly mind.

Damn him.

You felt that deft long middle finger find your clit. His index and ring finger found themselves in the middle of your folds. You rolled your hips over and your legs parted a little bit more against the fabric of your dress. The circular motions of the finger on your clit driving you a little bit crazy…

You braced yourself against the seat of the cab.

He scooped his fingers down deep into you, pressing deep onto the walls. He kissed you and bit gently at your chin.

You moaned into the top of his mouth.

His long hands had the benefit of him being able to continue his motions on your clit and he stroked the lowest part of your pussy with his pinky finger.

The other three worked you senseless.

“You’re so filthy.” He praised you. The ‘r’ in ‘you’re’ drilled inwards.

Your stomach fluttered and flipped around.

You let out a grunting heave. Your hands firmly around his body and gripping the back of the seat. He worked his way against your walls more. Penetrating deeper, still.

Unfortunately for you, the big stupid tower that UNIT had was approaching in the foreground.

He grazed your chest with his teeth and pulled out of you. He took out the screwdriver and it made that noise again.

He paid the driver and pulled you out.

“Now, you be good and quiet through the hallways and I’ll give you what you want.” He ordered you.

You nearly flailed out.

There were still staff and soldiers milling about, as you went towards the lift, some even approached him with questions.

You were still wet and dreadfully turned-on! And twitchy. It seemed painfully unfair, he wound you up just enough to make you literally insane!

You needed him to fuck you.

You could literally feel the absence of his fingers inside you. Like a gaping wound.

Cruel.

The seconds dragged on for what seemed like years. These underlings of his really could drag themselves on! It was wholly unfair. The several Cocktails with St Germaine and Vodka and the level of lust hazing your vision and your orders to be quiet. You wanted to beg him to finish fucking you.

Soon enough you were in the stupid barracks.

“Strip.” He ordered plainly, unbuckling his pants and pulling down his pants and his underwear. His cock already standing at full attention.

You shimmied out of your dress and underwear.

“Kneel.”

You kneeled.

“You’ll get my hands in you if you do good here. I know you will.” His tone was somewhere between an order and a negotiable thoughtfulness. With a tad bit of praise wrapped in.

You really needed him to get you off. It was up there in Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. ‘Get the Doctor’s fingers inside of you.’

So you obeyed.

You scooted forward and wrapped your hands around his ass and opened your mouth. You cracked your neck and inhaled. You pressed your tongue down on over your lower teeth and wrapped your upper lip over your top teeth. You slicked your tongue out just a bit more as you worked your way down his shaft.

He stabilized himself in your hair and the base of your neck, guiding you down deeper. He was fully inside your mouth. Gently, but still, he helped you go up and down as you continued to go down on him. A symbiotic, well-oiled machine. He guided you down and you licked and applied pressure.

All while you were still aching. All the need for him intensifying as you just kept clenching your thighs together. As if that’d stop the sensation of want…

This little trade-off was driving you mad!

You licked his entire shaft, swirling your tongue as you both continued the motions. Edging him with the hot breath coming out onto his tip, you clasped a tighter grip on his ass. You slipped down and went to purse your lips around the base…

He pulled himself out of your mouth.

“I’m going to finger you, as you want. Then…’ He said, pulling you up and shoving you onto the bed, flourishing his fingers…”I want to cum inside your mouth later.”

He pushed apart your legs and gave a deep lick to your cunt. Hard, quick, and lingering around.

He was insane! This was the most aggressive he’d ever been with you sexually. He braced himself on the bed frame and peered deep into your eyes as he maneuvered his other arm, and hand, down inside of you. You let out a giant tremble as he lay over you, dragging out the heavy petting and large sweeps inside you.

You gulped.

He somehow managed to get a few fingers inside you, probably because you were so soaked, and you were so nervous and eager to please. Or he was rather good with his fingers.

He played guitar.

Maybe that was why…

Your mind wandered gently away and you wanted to ask him to play for you…

You were so close. The waiting in the halls and him making you service him, really was a dangerous cocktail. A torture device, well fit for whatever this paramilitary organization had in their arsenals…

And here he was, fingers engulfed in your wet heat.

Suddenly you felt a shattering static, and the intoxicating waves of an orgasm and alcohol teamed up against you. You swore you could feel your vision somewhat fading around the edges. You felt rapidly breathless and were slow-blinking away from your orgasm waving through you.

The old man pulled his way up and gently pulled you down. You met halfway between the two.

“Open wide, sweetheart.” He cooed as he gripped his cock, jerking it. “Get that sharp tongue out. Don’t be shy, fawn.” It came out a velvet-wrapped order.

And yet again, you obeyed his orders to the mark!

Warm and salty, he came onto your tongue and tapped himself dry on your tongue.

You never liked the taste of cum, but you swallowed it, you figured that alien cum wasn’t as bad as human cum.

You tried to not gag…

He saw you balking at the taste and pet your hair.

“So good for me…you’re perfect, aren’t you?”

You nodded your head in affirmation.

He leaned down and kissed your forehead.

After a moment or two in just a lock up, you decided to shower. He joined you, simple, clean fun. Oddly sexless.

The morning came and you woke without a startle for the first time in what felt like your entire life. His one arm was wrapped around you, the feeling of his odd, two-hearted beating thrumming along. Like a white noise machine. His chest was pressed in earnest against your back.

It was the first time you’ve slept with a man, like truly, in the most simple description in years. It felt wonderful.

You didn’t know what time it was, your phone was still in your purse and the room lacked a clock, as far as you could tell. It was also windowless.

You managed to wriggle your way out to go to the bathroom and checked. It was half-eleven. He began to stir.

“Hey, go back to sleep.” You walked over and swooped a bit of his hair to the side. “I’ll go for a quick walk, I’ll be soon.” He rolled over and nodded.

You went out to check your phone, go outside and have a smoke, and prowl about. The hallways were milling with people and soldiers, busy.

You exited and lit up, Petronella was approaching the entrance.

“Hey, I know the perfect place for a brunch.” She exclaimed, clearly happy about the chance encounter.

You quickly dropped your cigarette and exhaled away from her face, remembering her asthma.

After a quick exchange you made your way back up to the barrack. He was fiddling around with some device. You’d like to think he changed his focus the minute he noticed that you entered, but it was a few seconds and he kept running his fingers and a real screwdriver on some screws as he went to look at you.

“So I was thinking that you and I could go to brunch.” You launched the idea. “Could be fun. Way better than a trip to Starbucks.” You added on.

“I could eat.” He announced.

The process to get you both out the door was a bit tough. As you kept find yourselves simply unable to keep your hands to yourselves. He was incorrigible!

But you did it anyway.

It was nice, Petronella came in clutch for you. It wasn’t a place catering to the yummy mummy crowd, nor the drunk hipster crowd. Very cozy. The seats were lush and you got a cozy, semi-cramped corner booth. All coiled up together…

You downed your first Bellini and your dishes were coming out.

You kept yourself from blurting out something.

The second Bellini pried it out.

“So tell me about these past companions…” You finally dropped as you sopped up a bit of oil with a piece of bread, you didn’t need to be completely sloshed yet.

He let out of derisive snort.

“I ran away with my granddaughter from my home planet. She encouraged me to pick up traveling companions when she married an Earthling. It’s been a cycle ever since. Although. I did give up after the last one. Especially after all my memories of her returned…no more companions. No more travel. Rehabilitate my ex-partner from my school days until she’s sane and no longer wants to take over the cosmos and kill off anyone. Catch and release. Teach on Earth until the planet meets it’s fire-y end.” He explained it all so nonchalantly. Boiled down. Reductive.

You nodded along and took a sip of his coffee.

“Never expected you, but, you’re my jealous little secret.” A dark, yet warm grim blazed across his face.

“And….how many….have you slept with?” You circled your pinky around the top of his glass.

“A few, rarely. I’m rather…adverse to sexuality usually. Sometimes it’s the right body and right time. Last one was this woman named Clara, we rubbed off on each other so poorly. She became too like me and I her, she died and I lost my mind, finally in the position I’ve left so many in. Four point five billion years inside of a hell of my creation to try to save her. In the end, my memory was wiped. It was brought back thanks to the ex-partner. You should meet her. One day. Missy is…Missy.” It seemed like his honesty had some subversion but still rang true.

“It’s a huge catalyst for why I’m retired from my endeavors. I’ll help UNIT out, but I need to find some peace. I’m an old man. I deserve a bit of rest.”

“Four point five billion years old.” You nodded, eyes bugged out of your head. “How’d that even work?”

“Oh, my ship is a time machine. She’s the big thing that’s covered in cloth in my office near my windows. She’s a Type-40 TARDIS. But because Clara rejected her resurrection, so to speak, the years snapped back. I’m only two thousand, as I said the other night!”

And here you were feeling slightly insane over thinking him in his sixties previously in the last week…

You scooped your hair put of your own face.

“Can’t fault you for wanting a break. I’m exhausted and I’m virtually just starting out in life. Can’t imagine living that long…” You gave a long hard stare into the distance…

You definitely couldn’t fault him there, having lovers. Or being too jealous. He was so...old…there was no way around it.

You especially couldn’t be worked up over his body count. You probably matched each other in some ways.

That was a lot of unpacking and decentering you had to do.

Your learning was never really done.

After all, you stop learning, you stop living…

“Any more inquiries?” He seemed to be jokingly prodding.

“Just don’t take me…off planet or back in time. Especially back in time.” You pointed to your face as if it were the obvious reason why that wouldn’t work.

“I never intend to.” He promised.

“Good.”

You finished up and made you way out, you took a walk around a park for a while, arms joined together.

It was nice. Like something in your life had finally clicked into place. Safety, potentially love, awareness…all that trite shit.

You couldn’t shake some feelings nor the sensation in your brain that something may be up.

But that was for future (y/n) to deal with. Today was just about relaxing with your man. Being normal. Finally getting something normal.

Maybe you both were being rewarded here.