"Let me make it up to you," Koschei had said. Theta wanted to turn his back on the boy, wanted to protect his hearts and not fall for the charm and obvious charisma but he couldn't bring himself to do that.
Instead he found himself reeled in further, "how do you propose to do that?"
Koschei smiled and rising from the bunk bed, pulled Theta to his feet, leading him into the hallway. Theta stopped, "I'm not going back into the woods, it's raining!"
Not letting this deter him at all Koschei's smile widened, "the showers then, we'll have them all to ourselves and we can get a good wash afterwards..."
"After what?" Theta asked even though he knew exactly what the other boy had in mind, in fact he was broadcasting his thoughts so loudly it was a miracle no one else picked up on it and came to stop them.
Or join in, he thought with a shrug.
Instead they had the cavernous room to themselves. Just the taps, the tile and the shower heads to keep them company.
Not that they needed more than each other.
As soon as the door shut Koschei set upon Theta meaning to assault his senses again before he could protest but this time he was ready for it. Even though his nerves lit up at Koschei's touch, his cool lips pressed to his own, he maintained some control. Enough to push him away.
"Not this time," he breathed out, "I want to know you really care about me, not just my body."
Koschei's expression darkened, then curled into a frown, "what are you playing at?" he hissed.
Theta met the mismatched eyes unblinkingly, "if you just want sex, you can go now," he replied levelly, "but if you want to make love to me..." he opened his robe slightly.
Koschei's gaze drifted to the long fingers undoing the buttons slowly as if transfixed. Unaware he was doing so he licked his lips as if savouring a fine sweet as Theta worked at yet another button, exposing more flesh.
With a groan, he launched himself face first into the soft skin of Theta's chest and latched onto one of his nipples, sucking as if he were starving.
"You look overheated," the soft voice spoke from his right. The Daest female who had used him as a nap pillow the day before thrust a small flask of something into The Doctor's face.
He accepted it gratefully, first pressing the cool metal, beaded with condensation to his forehead and cheek before uncapping it and taking a small sip of the contents. The Daest smiled at him her three rows of teeth glinting in the artificial light of the courtroom as he handed back the flask.
"Not many outside my home world have a taste for fermented Daestian breast milk," she laughed, "but then again not many are Time Lords."
"I made that myself," she continued, clasping the flask to her row of teats before sliding it into a satchel at her side, "so glad you enjoyed it. There's more where that came from."
Trying not to dwell too much on the sour, almost burning taste that filled his mouth, The Doctor swallowed the liquid and managed a fairly passable "thanks," before focusing back on the trial.