Lying in the dark, I watch his chest rise and fall. Up and down, up and down as air is taken in and expelled from his lungs, proving that he is alive. I place my hand on his chest- lightly, so as not to wake him. Under my palm his hearts beat out the same tattoo as the drums in my head. 1-2-3-4. 1-2-3-4. The heartbeat of a Timelord. His life force, beating away in tandem. I could kill him right now if I want to. I could crash his hearts between my fingers. Rip them out of his chest and watch him die choking on blood. But I won't. I can, but I won't. My mouth twitches into a smile for a split second. I am the only one to decide when and how he dies, because he is mine.
My hand strays from his chests up to his hair. I run my fingers through his brown hair, feeling each strand. However spiky it looks, it's actually quite soft. A smirk tugs at my lips. My Timelord has such delicious kinks to play with Hair-pulling is one of them. I do enjoy it; knotting my hand in his silky hair and pulling back, exposing his oh-so kiss-and-biteable neck. It's fun to pin him to the bed by his hair and bend his neck so far back I'm sure one day it will break. Not today though. Right now I enjoy the taste of his sweat running down that pretty little neck too much to make it crack.
His big brown eyes are closed peacefully in sleep. I love and hate his eyes. I love them because they remind me of Theta's; all wide-eyed and innocent. At least compared to me. The horror those eyes express when watching me end yet another insignificant little life. Theta's eyes would look at the universe and the universe would look back at him; thus when he looked at me I could see all of its great majesty miracles and terror reflected back at me. I hate his eyes. I hate him for being so like Theta again.
Curling my lip back in a quiet snarl, I drag my eyes away from my Timelord's face. I shuffle closer to him and curl around him. Everything I do is possessive, not affectionate. This is my Timelord. Mine, mine only. No touching. I run my fingers down his bare arm to his wrist. I take his wrist in my hand and feel each of the bones near the surface. He is so thin, so breakable. Any time I feel like it I can break him into a thousand pieces. I can crack every bone and leave him hurt and broken, I've done it before. I surely will do it again, however it's not as good as feeling his pulse thrum under his skin. I can feel his blood rushing through his wrists, contained only until I should choose to spill it again. When I hold him down by his wrists and thrust in slight struggle he gives is exhilarating. Whether his slender wrists held down manually or tied above his head, both ways served their purpose. It shows that he is mine. Mine forever.
A lop-sided smirk grows upon my lips at the thought. Unconsciously I tighten my grip on his wrist and wrap my other hand around his hip. Suddenly he shifts beside me. With his body facing away from me, he lifts his head sleepily.
"Mas-"
"Go to back to sleep, Doctor." I tighten my hold on his hip; my fingers curling into his flesh.
"But-"
"Listen to your Master, Doctor." My grip on his wrist tightens. "Go back to sleep."
He seems about to argue but instead sighs almost inaudibly and lowers his head. I stay quiet until I hear his breathing even out once again. With a wide smile I place a firm kiss on the back of his neck then rest my own head back on the pillow. I pull his body flush against mine; wrapping my arms around him and holding him close to my chest. I will never let him go. He is my Doctor. My Timelord. Mine to hurt and mine to heal. Mine.
Author's Note: Four fics written in one day, I am on a rooollllll!
