𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐱

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 —

warning: very explicit/detailed sexual content. do not read if you're not comfortable.

When I woke up, a dull ache radiated through my limbs, my muscles protesting the twisted, cramped position I had been curled in. I groaned softly, stretching as much as I could manage under the bed's low frame. It had finally gotten to me—my back stiff, neck sore, and legs tangled awkwardly beneath me. And if I was feeling like this, I could only imagine how much worse it had to be for the Doctor, who was longer and lankier in every direction.

I glanced over to see him lying beside me, his body bent into an uncomfortable knot. His arms were awkwardly folded, one leg stretched out, the other bent at an odd angle. His face was scrunched up, set in a firm frown even in sleep. The only reason he was still out cold was pure exhaustion. The man hadn't slept in over a week—not necessarily a problem for a TimeLord, but clearly, it had caught up to him.

I shifted again, trying to find even a smidgen of comfort, and my movement must have disturbed him. His eyes flickered open, confusion clouding them before awareness settled in. He blinked at me blearily, then down at his tangled limbs.

"Dearest...?" His voice was a scratchy murmur. "What's wrong?"

"I'm leaving," I grumbled, wiggling my way out from beneath the frame. "If we stay here any longer, I'm going to need a chiropractor."

He looked as though he wanted to argue, his mouth opening before snapping shut when he saw me already crawling out. With a resigned groan, he followed, his body unfolding with a series of crackles and pops that made me wince in sympathy.

We moved sluggishly, the exhaustion still heavy in our bones. My feet dragged across the floor, the desire to just collapse on top of the bed almost too strong to resist. I glanced at it longingly—the soft mattress, the fluffy pillows, the inviting comforter. That was exactly where I wanted to be, and I had a feeling the Doctor was in the same mindset.

Without much thought, I kicked off my shoes, sending them skidding across the floor, and peeled off my socks. Reaching under my tank top, I expertly unclasped my bra, pulling it free and sighing in relief. There was no better feeling than letting the ladies breathe after hours of restriction. I shimmied out of my fuzzy pants next, letting them pool around my feet before stepping out of them.

It had been hot and stuffy under the bed, so I had no intention of wearing anything more than my tank top and knickers beneath the comforter. I turned back toward the bed and found the Doctor watching me, his face slack with exhaustion but his eyes wide and unblinking. His gaze was shameless, flicking down to my bare legs before lingering on my chest, where my nipples were prominently poking through the thin fabric of my white shirt.

The Doctor tilted his head, eyes lingering on the outline of my nipples thoughtfully for a long a moment.

Oh—what're you thinking, you goofy TimeLord?

His eyes then snapped up to meet mine, his face instantly flushing a deep crimson. I lifted a brow at him, unimpressed.

"Something on your mind?"

"Just thinking!" He blurted out, his voice an octave higher than usual. "You know me—always thinking! My mind is basically a supercomputer... I was just... just thinking of equations!"

I scoffed, stifling a yawn. "Yep, right, equations." I stretched my arms above my head, arching my back. The motion caused my tank top to ride up, exposing a sliver of my stomach.

The Doctor made a noise somewhere between a yelp and a cough, his entire body stiffening before he spun around, his back to me as he fumbled with his bow tie. He was muttering under his breath, a constant stream of half-formed thoughts and reprimands directed at himself.

I snickered quietly, amused by his flustered state, before crawling onto my bed and collapsing onto my preferred side. The mattress welcomed me, soft and warm, and I let out a sigh of contentment. I nestled under the comforter, already feeling myself drifting off again.

What surprised me was when I glanced back at the Doctor, and the alien was stripping himself. Like completely. His shoes, socks, and bow tie were strewn on my floor.

His suspenders followed next, then his shirt, which he tugged over his head in one quick motion, ruffling his already mess of fluffy hair. I was expecting him to stop there—surely, he was only getting comfortable, nothing more—but then his hands dropped to his trousers, and before I could even register it, they were pooled at his feet.

I blinked.

The Doctor was standing in my room in nothing but his undies or as the British say—pants, and I had the distinct feeling that he wasn't finished.

Sure enough, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband and... wow, Eleven is kinda packing... but also, he's so pale... although his hair is very dark.

"Seriously?" I mused, incredulously, turning my head to the side after shamelessly checking him out for a long long moment.

I hated that I was fighting a blush.

"What?" He sounded confused like he was only just realizing I was still watching. "You know more than me that clothes are all a bit arbitrary. Besides—you just stripped!"

"I did not get butt-ass naked though," I laughed. "And me taking my bra and pants off doesn't mean I wanna see you starkers, Doctor."

"Are you sure?" He asked, voice teasing.

"Doctor...!" I could not stop myself from laughing a bit, turning back to look at him.

He stood with his hands on his hips, looking more than proud of himself.

Fine, I'll bite—the guy looks really fucking good naked.

But he was totally lying when he said he almost has a six-pack. This guy had about a month worth of sit-ups to do before he was anywhere near 'almost' having abs. He still looked good though.

"Yes, dear?" He hummed, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. The mattress dipped beside me a moment later.

I truly could care less if he came into my bed dressed or naked—all I craved was his presence, something I hated.

I snorted, rolling my eyes at him. Sure enough, the Doctor was now buried under the comforter, arms crossed behind his head as he looked entirely too smug.

"You're ridiculous," I told him, shifting to get comfortable on my side.

"So I've been told."

We lay there in the quiet for a few moments, the weight of exhaustion finally settling in. The soft hum of the TARDIS filled the room, a steady, familiar background noise that was oddly comforting.

I felt the mattress shift again as the Doctor rolled onto his side to face me.

"You're not going to make it weird, are you?" He asked suddenly, voice laced with amusement. "I was quite looking forward to a cuddle..."

I cracked an eye open, raising a brow. "You stripped balls-ass-bare, pal. I'm not the one being weird..." My lips pulled into a grin against my will.

The Doctor furrowed his brows before scoffing a loud laugh. "Did you just say balls-ass-bare?" He asked and I purposely ignored that question.

"Although you do look good naked, I suppose..."

"Hold on! You do it all the time!" He defended through a flush, shifting onto his side to face me. "Don't think I've forgotten about the pool incident."

I blinked. "The what?"

His grin was wicked now, though softened by exhaustion. "At some point in your future—my past—I'll walk into the pool room expecting a nice, relaxing swim, only to find you sprawled out on a sun lounger, not a stitch of clothing in sight." He tsked. "You didn't even flinch when you saw me."

I stifled a laugh, barely able to picture it, but also completely able to picture it. "Well... it sounds like I was sunbathing—probably trying to avoid tan lines."

"And yet," He drawled, tone positively smug, "when I do it, you act all scandalized. Double standards, PJ."

I scoffed. "I'm hardly scandalized. It sounds like you're the one who did—or will—make a big deal about it—"

"Well, of course I did," He cut in, voice going slightly lower, a little warmer. "I mean, really, PJ—you are rather breathtaking like that... it certainly took my breath away..."

My stomach gave an odd little twist. I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

He smiled at my silence, lazy and knowing. "See? Not so funny now, is it?"

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the heat creeping up my neck, and shifted closer to him.

The thing was—somehow, it didn't feel weird at all. His nakedness, his warmth—it was just him, natural as anything. When I nestled against his side, resting my head on his shoulder, he let out a pleased hum and curled his arm around me, drawing me in.

His skin was warm, soft in some places, firm in others. I let out a deep sigh, my body finally sinking into rest.

Our bare legs were tangled, my knicker-clad hips meeting his own and the soft tanktop thin enough that the warmth of his body crept in easily.

I hummed against him, the sound low and content. "You're lucky I'm too tired to make fun of you."

"Mm. Lucky me," He murmured back, voice thick with sleep, his grip around me tightening slightly.

We stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, warmth on warmth, breath syncing without trying.

The Doctor shifted one last time, pressing his cheek against my hair. "Goodnight, PJ."

"Goodnight, Doctor."

And with that, we both finally, blessedly, fell asleep.

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

I woke to the unmistakable sounds of pleasure—low, breathy personal noises that could only mean one thing.

What the hell? Where am I?

My eyes adjusted to the dim light, shadows sharpening into a scene that I definitely wasn't expecting. Two figures stood just a few feet away, their bodies pressed close in a way that was undeniably intimate. At first, I could only make out their silhouettes—tangled limbs, hurried movements, and a coat flaring behind the man as he pinned the woman against the wall.

The man was tall and lean, his hair spiked messily atop his head. A long coat billowed around him as his body moved in a rhythm that left little to the imagination. The woman's body arched toward him, her head tilted back in submission as quiet whimpers of pleasure spilled from her lips.

Familiar whimpers.

Wait... I know that voice.

My blood ran cold as the realization struck me like a freight train. That's me.

I was watching myself.

Getting absolutely railed. Getting fucked.

By none other than the Doctor—specifically, the Doctor in his tenth regeneration.

Oh, hell no.

And to make matters worse, he was turning me into a desperate, quivering mess. The other me was all but melting under his touch, pinned securely between his body and the rough brick wall. Both our pants were haphazardly shoved down to our thighs, a clear sign of the urgency that had led to this very public quickie.

Public. We were in a back alley somewhere, surrounded by shadows. It was dark out, and thankfully empty, but the sheer boldness of it made me raise a brow.

I wanted to look away, but I was glued to the scene, eyes wide as Ten slammed his hips forward with a force that had the other me crying out.

My jaw dropped at the way he was handling me—rough, unrestrained, like he was possessed. I was the one usually in control, the one on top, and yet here he was... manhandling me like I was his plaything.

Where did this side of the Doctor even come from?

He was whispering something in her ear—my ear—his voice dripping with seduction. I couldn't make out the words, but whatever he said made her body shiver, her knees nearly buckling before he tightened his grip to keep her upright. Her lips parted, a whimper escaping before Ten growled and clamped his hand over her mouth.

"Oh, yeah... that's it... so good for me," He purred, his voice low and rough. "You're such a bad girl... my bad girl... but so, so good..."

The other me was trembling, her body pressed flush against the brick wall as his pace grew even more relentless. His coat flared with each powerful thrust, the sound of skin slapping echoing down the empty alley. I watched in stunned silence, face heating as his words grew filthier, his hands roaming possessively over her body.

One of his hands, the one not covering her mouth moved between her legs—expertly playing with her clit.

He was losing himself in her—in me—and the look on his face was primal, desperate. A look I had never seen the Doctor adorn. His hips slammed forward with bruising force, his head falling against her shoulder as he groaned, "Oh, love, you're squeezing me... are you going to cum? Show me how you can cum, pretty girl, show your Doctor how you can cum..."

My other self's head snapped back, a muffled cry breaking through his hand as she nodded frantically. Ten's expression twisted with raw pleasure, his body shuddering as he buried himself to the hilt. His name spilled from her lips, broken and breathless as her body trembled through her release.

"Doctor, Doctor, Doctor..." She was repeating like a broken record.

I watched, mortified, as he stilled behind her, his shoulders tensing as a shudder ran through his frame. His own release was flowing through him. His mouth moved against her ear, whispering things I couldn't hear but could easily imagine. Sweet nothings, praises, dirty promises... all of it delivered in that honeyed accent.

My jaw dropped.

Really, bitch?

I didn't even have time to process the absurdity of what I had just witnessed before a voice hummed in my ear, far too close for comfort.

"Well... that was certainly a fun time. Definitely one of my favorites... but then again, it's always good, isn't it?"

I screamed, whirling around with a fist flying. The Doctor barely ducked out of the way, his eyes wide as he stumbled back, hands flailing in panicked defense.

"PJ!" He yelped, his voice shooting up an octave. "Careful! I quite like my face where it is! No need to break my jaw!"

It was him—my Doctor, the one in his eleventh hour. He was standing there in his usual tweed jacket and bow tie, looking equal parts amused and mortified.

My face burned with embarrassment. "What... the hell... is that?"

He had the decency to look sheepish, scratching the back of his neck as he avoided my gaze. "Ah... that was... well... funny story, really..." He gestured around us, and I finally took in my surroundings.

We were standing in a murky, shadowed version of the alleyway I had just witnessed... whatever that was. The air was heavy, almost dreamlike, and the edges of the scene were blurred, flickering as if struggling to hold their form.

A realization dawned on me. "You pulled me into your mind while we were sleeping, didn't you? Stupid... telepathic... absurd... alien man!"

His eyes went wide, the color draining from his face. "That is certainly a theory... and... I... um... might've done that, yes..."

My jaw clenched. "Why the hell did I just watch myself get railed by your past self, you telepathic idiot!?"

He flushed crimson, his hands flapping uselessly. "I didn't mean to! Sometimes the subconscious gets away from me—I can have rather vivid dreams..." He winced, daring to peek at me through his lashes. "Especially when I'm... um... pent up..."

My jaw dropped. "Pent up!?"

His face turned even redder. "It was just a dream! A very vivid, very... detailed dream. Well, more like a memory of sorts... a dremory... no that's a stupid word, scratch that!" He cleared his throat, eyes darting anywhere but at me. "You... ah... weren't supposed to see that."

I stared at him, completely dumbfounded. "So when the fuck does this happen?"

The Doctor, still looking toward the ground and unable to meet my gaze shrugged. "I dunno... wasn't really that long ago for me... almost three years ago... maybe...? Look, it's your future, you know I can't tell you!"

"As if I will ever let you rail me..." I threw my head back and laughed. "Besides, I am the one who does the fucking!"

That seemed to get the Doctor's attention, for his head snapped up and his pupils dilated. He was looking at me in an unfamiliar manner.

A slow, borderline wicked grin spread across his face. "Oh, yeah?" He murmured, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You're the one who does the fucking, huh?"

My heart stopped at the word—the Doctor barely ever cursed. And when he did, it was quite literally only the words 'damn' or 'hell'. For him to drop an F-bomb was insanity.

The Doctor took a step closer, the air crackling with sudden intensity. I opened my mouth to fire back, but the words died on my tongue as his eyes raked over me, shameless and heated.

"Funny," He continued, his voice a low purr as he closed the distance between us. "Because from where I was standing, you were falling apart... coming undone just from my touch." His gaze flicked to my lips. "I bet you're still feeling it now... the heat... the ache... I bet you're wet just thinking about it."

My breath hitched, and his eyes flashed, his confidence surging as he took another step forward, leaving barely an inch between us. My legs rubbed together... he was right.

"You want my fingers stuffed inside of you?" He whispered, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as I shivered. "Let me take control... let me have my way with you... make you beg for more... you want that, don't you, PJ?"

I swallowed hard, throat dry as his words sent a bolt of need straight to my core.

Yes... I really fucking do.

My chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, and I hated the way my body responded to him, to his voice, to his touch—despite it all, when the Doctor really wanted to, really went for it, he had the power to make me melt.

His eyes darkened as he watched me struggle for composure. "I can feel it, you know..." His voice was pure sin as he ran his nose along my jaw, his lips grazing my skin. "Your heart racing... your pupils are blown... and I can practically taste your desire, love."

I tried to find my voice, to retort, to deny him, but all that came out was a soft whimper as his lips found my neck, kissing up and down in slow, torturous strokes. I wanted this—I wanted him—so badly. My body arched into him, his hands gripping my hips with bruising force as he pinned me to the wall.

His mouth was everywhere—nipping at my collarbone, sucking at the pulse point beneath my ear, his tongue tracing wicked patterns that left me shuddering. "You talk big, dearest," He tittered, his voice laced with arrogance and lust, "but I know the truth... I remember that night well... it was in New York during March of 1966... I felt how you came undone for me... I felt you tighten around me... heard you scream my name..." He smiled. "You always do,"

Heat pooled low in my belly, and I barely had a second to register his words before his mouth crashed down on mine. The kiss was brutal, fierce—his lips commanding, his tongue demanding entry as I opened to him without hesitation. I kissed him back just as frantically, my fingers tangling in his hair as I yanked him closer.

He groaned against my mouth, the sound sending a thrill down my spine as he pressed his body against mine, his thigh pushing between my legs. I gasped at the pressure, my hips rocking instinctively, desperately seeking friction. His hands slid down my body, rough and possessive as he grabbed my thigh, lifting my leg and wrapping it around his waist.

I whimpered at the new angle, his hips grinding into mine as he broke the kiss, his mouth trailing down my neck. He nipped at my pulse point, his teeth scraping my skin before soothing the bite with his tongue.

"Tell me," He demanded, his voice rough with need, "tell me you want me, Cooper... tell me you desire me... just as much as I desire you..." He spoke before giving another firm and desperate thrust against me, and I felt just how much he desired me in that instance. Hard. "Say it and I'll give you anything you want..."

I opened my mouth to say the words—words I never thought I'd ever say—but before I could speak, the world around us shattered.

The alleyway vanished, the brick wall behind me crumbling into dust as the ground disappeared from beneath my feet. I stumbled, hands flailing for balance as my surroundings changed in the blink of an eye.

Music. Laughter. The scent of expensive perfume and cigar smoke filled the air. I spun around, disoriented, my heart still pounding from the Doctor's touch, but now I stood in the middle of a crowded dance floor, surrounded by women in flapper dresses and men in tailored suits.

The Roaring 20s. I was in the 1920s... at some sort of lavish party, jazz music blaring from a live band as couples twirled and swayed in time with the beat.

My hands flew to my body, feeling the silky fabric of an evening gown hugging my curves, the weight of pearls around my neck. My hair was styled in finger waves, a feathered headband completing the look. I looked down, blinking at the strappy heels on my feet as confusion washed over me.

What the hell just happened?

I turned in circles, eyes searching the crowd as my heart raced, trying to make sense of it all. Just seconds ago, I was pinned to the wall, the Doctor's mouth on my neck, his hands all over me... and now... now I was on a dance floor, dressed to the nines and completely out of place.

I spun again, searching desperately for him, my pulse still thrumming from his touch. "Doctor!" I called out, my voice drowned out by the music and laughter. "Doctor, where are you?"

Someone popped open a bottle of champagne causing more loud laughter. I flinched away from it.

"Right here, dearest..."

I jumped at the voice tickling against my ear, and looked behind me. The Doctor was staring down at me with a smirk and a toothpick in his mouth. He looked exceptionally handsome, with his floppy hair brushed neatly for once. He was in a dark suit with a white bow tie.

"What is this? Why are we hopping through your mind?" I asked him with a frown.

He shrugged. "It's not just me; well, it is me... I guess I accidentally pulled you into my mind, but now you're helping to control our shared dreams. Remnants of creativity, memories, and everything in between blending together to paint vivid lucid dreaming..." He explained, rubbing his hands together and getting that excited grin on his face that he always got when explaining something complicated.

Like it was Christmas for him.

"Like the psychic pollen?" I raised a brow.

"No!" He shook his head frantically. "Nothing like that, nothing feeding off us—no darkness coming out to play. It's nothing more than a typical dream..."

"Other than the fact that we're sharing the said dream, Doctor!"

He nodded but did not appear to pay much attention to my words as he looked around—eyes growing even more excited. "Yes, yes—similar enough though, where are we? Not one of my memories... one of yours?" He questioned, looking back down at me with a hopeful sparkle in his eyes.

I shrugged. "Not that I know of..."

"A simple bout of shared creativity then—shall we dance?" He asked, holding out his hand to me.

I hesitated for a moment, his outstretched hand hanging between us as the music swirled around us, wrapping us in its rhythmic spell. He looked so hopeful, his boyish grin so sincere, his eyes glinting with that uncontainable energy that always made my heart race. I wanted to refuse, to question him more about this place, about the strange dreamscape we were trapped in... but the way he looked at me—so earnest, so full of anticipation—I found myself slipping my hand into his before I could think better of it.

His face lit up as he pulled me close, his fingers curling firmly around mine, his other hand resting at my waist.

He began to move, his body swaying to the rhythm with a practiced ease that surprised me. "I've always loved the 20s... people really knew how to have fun then... or now... well, in this moment, at least."

I rolled my eyes, a reluctant smile pulling at my lips. "People know how to have fun during all times, it's just a matter of finding it...."

"Touché."

And then he spun me. Quick, sharp, fluid—his hand guiding mine as I twirled beneath his arm, the skirt of my gown flaring out around me before he pulled me back against his chest. I gasped, my body pressing against his as his grin widened, a challenge glinting in his eyes.

I didn't back down. I matched his movements instinctively, following his lead as he guided me through complicated footwork that would've tangled up most but not me. My body moved seamlessly, my muscles easily performing the steps as he spun me again, lifting me off the ground and flipping me over his shoulder.

I didn't even bat a lash. I came down in perfect rhythm, my body twisting in his arms before my feet hit the floor, my hips swaying as I fell back into step with him. His smile grew, his eyes never leaving mine as he tested me, his movements growing faster, more daring. But no matter how quickly he moved, no matter how intricate his footwork became, I was right there with him—anticipating his every step, matching his every turn.

He spun me out, my arm stretching as I twirled away, the momentum whipping my hair across my face before he pulled me back to him, his arm snaking around my waist as he dipped me low, his face hovering just above mine. Our noses almost touched, his breath warm against my lips as his eyes sparkled with exhilaration.

"This," He whispered, his voice barely audible above the music, "is one of the many reasons why I love you so..."

The words hit me like a freight train. I froze, my body suddenly stiff in his arms as my mind struggled to process what he'd just said.

He must have felt me falter because his smile wavered, his brows knitting together in confusion. "PJ?"

"What?" I breathed, my voice trembling as I stared up at him. "What did you just say?"

Why did he need to say it out loud? It could have remained unspoken. Should have remained unspoken. But then again, we are in his mind, and the mind is often more blunt and open.

His face fell, his eyes widening in alarm just as the world around us shattered into light. There was a brilliant flash, bright and blinding, the dance floor disintegrating beneath my feet as my body was pulled down. I yelled, my stomach dropping as gravity vanished, my arms flailing as I tried to catch myself—

I stumbled forward, my heels clicking against polished marble as I crashed back into solid ground. My vision swam, my head spinning as I struggled to find my balance, my hands flying to my body once more. My heart was racing, my pulse hammering in my chest as I took in my new surroundings.

Another fucking dance floor?

A grand ballroom stretched out before me, the air thick with the scent of roses and candle wax. Crystal chandeliers hung from a vaulted ceiling, their light shimmering off the polished floor as couples danced in perfect harmony. A hauntingly beautiful melody echoed through the room, carried by the lilting strings of a live orchestra.

I looked down, my eyes widening as I took in the crimson fabric hugging my body. This gown was long and wispy, the silky material brushing against my ankles as I moved. It clung to my curves in all the right places, the off-the-shoulder neckline exposing my collarbones, a delicate gold chain resting against my skin. My hair was pulled into an elegant bun, a few loose curls framing my face.

Interesting.

I turned, mouth opening to call out for the Doctor when a firm hand grabbed my waist, pulling me back against a familiar chest.

"There you are, dearest!" The Doctor's voice purred into my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "I thought I'd lost you for a moment."

I whirled around, eyes widening at the sight before me. He was standing impossibly close, his body pressed against mine, his hand firm at my waist, the other held out in invitation.

His hair was still floppy, his suit (with a bow tie, of course) pristine and perfectly tailored, fitting him like a glove. A white rose was clutched between his teeth—one he promptly spat out with a cough before grinning down at me.

"Shall we?" He asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he pulled me into a rapid, intricate tango. His steps were quick and precise, his body moving with fluid grace as he led me across the dance floor.

I kept up, my heels clicking against the marble as he spun me, his arm wrapping around my waist as he dipped me low. "Does my love scare you?" He whispered, his voice low and taunting as his eyes bored into mine.

No. It makes me pity you.

I couldn't answer. My heart was pounding, my mind reeling as his words echoed in my head. Love. Such a funny word.

"You shouldn't have said it out loud," I shook my head. "Saying it out loud makes it real..."

"Oh..." He murmured, his voice softer now, his fingers tilting my chin up so that I was forced to look into his eyes. "My love for you will always be real, no matter if it is said out loud or not. No matter if I fight against it or embrace it... no matter if I am in love with you or just love you, it'll always be there and it'll always be real..." He told me firmly. "We're at very different points right now, dearest, so while you may not be as far as I am... one day you will be. And you'll meet a man who won't know you or how much you mean to him. Your love for him will scare him, but you'll make him brave... and now I intend to return the favor..." He said, voice as passionate as it is when he speaks to one of his many enemies.

It was words meant only for me, a secret. Because I can't ever imagine him saying something so passionate in front of anyone else.

I opened my mouth, desperate to say something, anything to break the spell he was weaving around me—but before I could speak, before I could even process his words, the world shattered once more, the ballroom crumbling into light as I was pulled into the void once again.

Thrown around before I was spit back out somewhere different.

My body hit the ground hard, the breath rushing out of my lungs as I tumbled forward, landing on rough stone. My head spun, my vision swirling as the world around me slowly came into focus. I was in a dim, cramped room, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and smoke. Shadows flickered across the walls, cast by the single torch mounted above a wooden door, its flame sputtering weakly. A cell. I was in a cell.

But like an old cell.

I groaned, pushing myself up on shaky arms before brushing the dust off my dress. Another new one.

I looked down and took in the flowing fabric cascading around my legs. It was long and heavy, made of rough-woven wool in muted greens and browns, with intricate knotwork embroidered along the neckline. The sleeves were tight against my arms, flaring out at the wrists, the material scratchy against my skin. My hair was pulled back into an elaborate braid, strands of gold ribbon woven through the plaits, bits of my hair falling around my face. I looked like... like...

"A Viking," I breathed, my fingers running over the fabric in disbelief. "Why am I dressed like a Viking?"

"Well, this is interesting."

I snapped my head up, eyes locking on the figure slumped against the far wall.

Eleven was sitting on the ground, his wrists shackled to the stone above his head, his arms stretched out uncomfortably as he pouted, his lower lip jutting out in that petulant way he did when things didn't go his way. His hair was messier than usual, flopping over his forehead as he glared at the restraints. His clothes matched the time period—a loose tunic of dark blue wool, belted at the waist, with rough leather pants and boots caked in mud.

"And what did I do to deserve this, dearest?" He muttered, giving the chains a half-hearted tug before letting his head fall back against the wall with a dramatic sigh. "Why do you have me locked up?"

Hmm... this could be fun. A fire lit itself in the pit of my stomach—emotions of desire filling my every part.

I tilted my head, a wicked smile curling at my lips as I sauntered toward him. His eyes flicked up, widening as he took in my appearance, his mouth parting in surprise. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried—and failed—to keep his composure.

I stopped in front of him, placing my hands on my hips as I looked down at him with a mocking pout. "My poor love... all helpless and tied up... no TARDIS to run to... no sonic to help him... not that it does much good with rope, considering its stance on wood, I'm sure..."

His head snapped up, his eyes narrowing indignantly as his cheeks flushed. "Rude! Don't diss the sonic..."

"I'm just saying," I drawled, running my fingers along the wall as I began to circle him slowly, my hips swaying with each step. His head turned to follow me, his eyes glued to me as I moved, his breath coming quicker as I ran a hand along his shoulder, brushing my fingers over the back of his neck.

"Not very clever of you, getting yourself all tied up like this... what would your enemies think if they saw you like this? The Oncoming Storm... helpless... vulnerable... at my mercy..."

He bristled, his body stiffening as he looked up at me with a haughty glare. "I am not helpless! I can easily get out of these simple restraints if I wanted!"

"Yeah?" I leaned in closer, my lips brushing against his ear as I whispered, "Then why aren't you escaping?"

His bravado faltered, his face flushing as he stammered, "Well, this is... this is clearly from your creativity... must be... yes, your imagination running wild, that's all... blending with the remnants of my memories... yes, yes..." He began rambling, his voice quickening as he spouted random facts about Vikings, his words growing more frantic the longer I stared at him. "I mean, this... this cell... it's historically accurate! Look at the stonework, primitive but sturdy... brilliant craftsmanship, really... and, and the torches! Animal fat, if I'm not mistaken... and your dress! Very authentic, too, the embroidery indicates a higher status, likely a noblewoman or perhaps even—"

I rolled my eyes, cutting him off with a sharp laugh. "Honestly, you never shut up, do you?"

His mouth opened, then closed, his eyes widening as he looked up at me with a mixture of defiance and embarrassment. I smirked, leaning back as I folded my arms over my chest, my fingers tapping against my arm as I pretended to ponder. "You know... the She-Maiden Ruler Lagertha had her way with King Harald while he was tied up..."

His face went scarlet, his eyes widening even further as he sputtered, "That... that only happened in the show! The, um... the show Vikings! Creative liberties, I'm sure... but not historically accurate at all..."

I was surprised he even knew of the show. I only knew of the show because of the five years I had been stranded on Earth in the 2020s with nothing to do.

Lots of television was the solution.

"Maybe," I agreed, my voice light and teasing as I crouched down in front of him, my face now level with his. His breath hitched, his body tensing as I placed my hand on his thigh, my fingers curling against the rough fabric. "Or maybe not..."

His mouth opened, his breathing growing shallow as I began to trail my hand up his thigh, my fingers grazing over the sensitive skin beneath the tunic. His muscles tensed, his body going rigid as his chains rattled above him, his arms pulling against his restraints as he sucked in a sharp breath.

"PJ..." He whispered, his voice cracking as his eyes locked onto mine, his pupils blown wide. "Oh, Cooper..." He looked utterly helpless, his body trembling as I leaned in closer, my lips brushing against his neck as I exhaled slowly, letting my breath dance across his skin. His head fell back, his chest heaving as a small, desperate sound escaped him, somewhere between a whimper and a moan.

"Please..." He choked out, his voice cracking as he looked at me with pleading eyes, his face flushed with need. His arms pulled at his restraints, his body arching toward me despite his bindings, his lips trembling as he whispered again, "Please..."

"Please what?" I asked sharply.

He released a loud breath. "Touch me..." He grunted.

With that, my hand slipped under the tunic, pushed the trousers down to his thighs and brushed against coarse hair. Something semi-hard fell into my grasp easily; his member hardening immensely under my touch. The shackles were loud as he pulled against it, his head falling back and eyes rolling as a loud noise left his mouth.

Oh... OH, he was a good size. A great size, in fact.

I leaned forward, my body pressing against his as my lips hovered just above his, letting my breath ghost over his mouth. His eyes fluttered open, his gaze heavy and laced with need, his lips parted as a shuddering breath escaped him.

For a brief, tantalizing moment, I stayed there, letting the tension coil between us, his eyes searching mine, pleading without words. And then, I closed the distance.

Our lips met in a fierce, hungry kiss. It was raw, consuming—like fire igniting between us. His mouth moved desperately against mine, his body straining toward me despite his bindings. His chains rattled as his arms pulled, his chest pressing against me as if he could merge our bodies through sheer will.

He tasted intoxicating, his scent flooding my senses as I deepened the kiss—stardust and tea—my hand tightening around his length, earning a muffled, broken moan from his throat. His lips were soft, warm, and pliant beneath mine, his mouth parting willingly as I claimed him fully.

I could feel him trembling, his body reacting helplessly to my touch, his need palpable as he melted against me. Yet, he kissed me back just as fiercely, his tongue dancing with mine, his desperation echoing my own. For once, there were no walls, no masks—just him and me, raw and exposed.

Two halves of one whole.

The Doctor was all I could taste, all I could feel, his essence enveloping me, overwhelming me. And for just a moment, nothing else mattered. Not the past, not the future, not even if this was real—only this, only him.

I broke the kiss, our mouths parting with a gasp, his chest heaving as his eyes snapped open, wide and dazed, his face flushed. His lips were swollen, glistening from our shared hunger, his body trembling under my touch.

He looked utterly wrecked, completely at my mercy, his chains clattering as he tried to reach for me, his voice cracking as he whispered, "PJ..."

I leaned in again, my lips brushing his ear as I whispered, "I'm not done with you yet."

Smiling enthusiastically, and in a borderline crazy manner, I brought my hand out from under his tunic and to my mouth. The Doctor looked up when he felt my hand leave, his eyes widening as he watched me spit into the palm of my hand and bring it back under his tunic where I grabbed his hard length and began stroking.

His body shuddered, his head falling back as a guttural groan escaped him, his chest arching against mine, his need evident, his desire undeniable.

The only sounds in the cellar were the shackles hitting against the wall, the Doctor's quiet noises, ones that I doubt many beings ever had the privilege of hearing—let alone seeing this powerful TimeLord in such a state—and the slick sound of my hand rubbing up and down his stiff cock.

His head was tilted back eyes closed as he was muttering a chaotic mumble of English, Gallifreyan, and countless other languages.

"Yes, yes, yes..." He was pleading. "Oh—yes, please... please..."

In the next instance, my hand released his twitching cock—he was getting too close too soon. The Doctor immediately made sounds of protest, opening his eyes and staring at me as though I had stolen the moon.

"I wasn't finished..." He whined in a way that had me laughing.

I stood up, looking down at him mockingly. "No?" I tittered.

He was looking at me with wide green eyes—cock standing at attention, pubic hair dark and wet, the head slightly red. The Doctor then blushed when he took note of his exposed positioning and the true dynamics of power at play.

He could not even move his tunic to cover his delicate parts if he wanted to. Not with how he was locked to the wall.

It was quiet for a moment, myself admiring the slightly helpless TimeLord before I reached down and pulled my dress up until it was at my hips. My own parts were now exposed, and I took a step forward until I was standing over the Doctor—my waist level with his head.

He audibly swallowed, eyes set on what was in front of him.

"Lick," I demanded.

My voice was sharp, and the Doctor did not hesitate to lean forward and delve into me like he was a starving man.

A breathy sigh escaped me as a skilled tongue was suddenly going to town and pushing through neat damp curls and into my folds. He hummed happily, licking me eagerly, tongue stroking long laps in my softness.

"Oh, wow..." I mumbled, beginning to move against his face, hips locking my most sensitive area to his mouth and nose. I trusted him not to bite... much. His nose started digging into me further—only succeeding in bringing me that much closer to the edge. He was a professional at this, it seemed. The sloppy sounds echoed the place. "That's it, right there..." I sighed, bringing my hands down and grabbing his hair roughly.

He groaned at the sensation but did not make any noise of protest as I tugged his hair. The dress fell downward, covering my waist and the Doctor's head with it. But somehow, my lack of view of him eating away only stirred me up that much more.

And he just kept licking... and licking... and licking...

The sounds of him lapping, the feel of his big warm wet tongue pressing against me hotly, him under my dress; it was all more than enough to send me spiraling over the edge. Admittedly, in some circumstances, I can be a bit of a squirter when orgasm takes me.

My voice broke, hips digging further into the Doctor's face as I furiously moved against him—relief and pure ecstasy taking over. I heard the Doctor let out a noise of surprise when a warm water-like substance hit him square in the face, better put—his mouth.

He did not try to pull away; however, he only hummed a chuckle and licked every drop of the liquid that he could as I sighed and came down from the high. A moment later, I was pulling away as his licking became too much.

He whined as he lost his make out partner.

Upon moving backward, my dress fell off his head. The Doctor was looking at me with wide and happy eyes, the man appearing much too joyful with the glistening substance over his face—primarily his mouth and chin.

Oh, that chin. I love that chin.

His hair was even wilder, and his cock was somehow harder; now leaking precum.

Wait? Is that gold? Do TimeLord's fucking cum golden?

I was too turned on to ask at the moment.

However, I did ask one thing.

"Who does the fucking, Doctor?"

The Doctor was silent for a moment, quietly staring at me with pondering eyes. Desire coursed through us both.

"Doctor?" I implored mockingly.

"You," He finally ground out.

"Who?"

"You!" He cried brokenly. "Now, please, for all my sanity—c'mere and finish this!"

The Doctor had never hit me as an especially sexual person, so I was slightly surprised by his eagerness with this situation. However, it was not a bad surprise—that was arguably the best that anyone had ever eaten me out. Not to mention, the quickest I had ever came from being eaten out.

I could not resist this TimeLord as I once again squatted over him. I wanted to wreck him—I wanted to ride this man till he lost his damn mind. Till I lost my own goddamn mind from slamming myself down on his cock.

Throwing my arms around his shoulders, I reached down and lined our sexes up. The next moment I easily sank down on him. He filled me nicely—very nicely—thick in all the right areas and more than long enough to hit the squishy part in the very back that had me rolling my eyes.

As it would turn out, Eleven is not compensating.

I subconsciously squeezed around his length causing the Doctor to cry out and try to thrust his hips upward. But I was strong, keeping my weight down and forcing him to momentarily stay still.

The Doctor was breathing heavy and gazing at me as though I hung the stars in the sky.

We remained still for a moment, simply basking in the feeling of being connected in one of the most intimate ways known throughout the universe. The most instinctual and primal pleasure of life.

Our already melded minds seemed to tilt toward each other even further—twining until for a just a long second we were connected in every way possible.

I reached forward, grabbing him by his chin and forcing him to look into my eyes. To see the woman dominating him—I grinned wickedly and he only gave me a ditzy smile in return, once again trying to weakly thrust his hips upward.

I clicked my tongue at him, and then he released a particularly high-pitched whimper as I went to town on him. Rolling my hips into his—my breasts quaking so hard they were beginning to fall out of my dress.

The Doctor was unable to form a coherent sentence, only small praises and begs.

There was something so inexplicably hot about this. The Doctor, the Oncoming Storm—shackled while I rode him like he was nothing but my toy. On this dirty stone floor in this filthy fucking cell, but holy shit was it hot.

My voice was raspy; sexy, no doubt as I freely cried out while moving my hips to meet his.

The sound of slapping skin filled the room along with our noises of pleasure. The Doctor was babbling some more nonsense about how much he missed this, and the only response I gave was to ride him harder.

At some point, my breasts had completely bounced their way out of my dress from our frantic movements, and the Doctor immediately went after them. He managed to lean forward and pull a nipple into his mouth. He happily hummed.

I gasped at the sensation of him sucking on my breast and lightly biting it. He sucked to his heart's content for a few seconds before he released it with a pop and light kiss.

I was confused about why he stopped so soon, and was about to demand that he do it again until his voice rang out frantically.

"Oh—Oh—OH!" The Doctor started, eyebrows furrowing as he looked up and met my gaze desperately. "I'm—I can't—dearest, please, you need to slow down or I'm going to..." He could not even finish his sentence before he was crying out and his cock twitched inside of me. "I'm going to..! Christ, I—I—I'm—!"

I only quirked an amused brow at him.

He twitched twice before I felt the flood of something warm overtake my insides and the Doctor's eyes were crossing as he finished, his head falling backward as he desperately began propelling his hips upward to meet mine. He was nearly sobbing—his voice loud enough to let the entire galaxy know what a good time he was having.

It was not like when a human came. The Doctor's cock literally felt like it was flooding over—filling me entirely and leaking from our conjoined regions.

Golden stickiness encased our lower parts and I was groaning at the sensation.

So warm...

I had been right earlier—his cum was fucking golden. A golden almost sparkly gooey mess that was thick and glistened not unlike regeneration energy.

"How many centuries worth of cum was that, Space Lord?" I snarked as I continued to ride him, slowing only slightly.

"Don't be gross, PJ," The Doctor weakly chided, though he sounded amused more than anything.

He was softly tugging at his restraints, it was obvious that he wanted to wrap his arms around me and hug me close. The man still seemed to be unable to speak, a huge difference from his usual quirks of rambling. Instead the occasional whimper erupted from his mouth.

Suddenly, before anything else could occur, before I could continue to ride him until he begged me to stop—pleaded that he was too sensitive, there was a flash and then we were gone. My mind went blank—peace overcoming me as a dreamless sleep took its place.