Series 9: What We Deserve
Warnings: dark themes, violence, torture, m/f, f/f & m/f/f relationships, explicit scenes.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did…damn you, Moffat!
Summary: A new game begins between Clara and Missy. The Doctor knows but is powerless to stop it. Maybe, he doesn't even want to…
A/N: Not sure if there'll be an update tomorrow. I have a 10,000 word dissertation with my name on it to finish. We'll see. I just love writing these three too damn much.
The Doctor knew something was up. There had to be.
Four days after Missy had awoken from her coma, the next fissure had opened and they'd slipped through into the void once more, the NavCom calculating the next co-ordinates to head for.
He could only hope that the next universe they materialised in would be less hostile. But the memories of Missy sprawled over the console room floor while he rebuilt all her neural pathways weren't what was disturbing him. No, it was something else…
He glanced sideways at his companion piercingly. She'd laid aside her long coat, broach and unbuttoned her shirt slightly so the long, graceful line of her throat was exposed. Her usually upswept hair was rearranged into a new style, the curly sides drawn back into an intricate knot while the rest fell down her back in long waves. It fell almost to mid-back, and the soft light of the console room made it shine.
"Have you changed your hair?" he asked her, as she looked up from the set of wires she was prodding inexpertly, to the Doctor's mind at least, with his stolen sonic screwdriver. He waved his hand at it vaguely. "It's all long and floppy."
"Hmm," Missy hummed. "I've been experimenting. Do you like it?"
He grunted in reply as the console sparked, and Missy stepped back with a pleased laugh. "See!" she turned to him with excited eyes. "Told you I could do it."
"Beginner's luck," he growled, snatching his screwdriver back as she pouted.
"Need I remind you, I've had several Tardises of varying types? This old bucket is hardly difficult to maintain," she scoffed, as the Tardis hummed in annoyance. She rolled her eyes and sighed. "There's no pleasing some people."
Clara appeared at that moment, three mugs of tea perched precariously in her hands. "What's not pleasing?" she asked, handing the Doctor his and placing Missy's down on the console, ignoring the Doctor's scandalised cry. "Have you changed your new hair? It's…pretty."
"See, Doctor?" Missy preened, with a knowing glance in Clara's direction. "Sometimes, it's only us girls who can appreciate these things."
Clara laughed. "He couldn't tell if something looked nice if it jumped up in front of him wearing a neon sign," she quipped. "Y'know he still has that awful multi-coloured coat in the wardrobe."
"It was…in vogue at the time," the Doctor objected, feeling ganged up upon. Even his Tardis betrayed him, again, as she hummed in agreement.
"Whatever you say, Joseph," Missy muttered. He glared at her pointedly.
"What did you say?"
"Oh, nothing, nothing," Missy trilled with a smirk. Clara caught her eye, and despite herself, smiled mischievously. Missy began humming the opening bars of 'Any Dream Will Do', as Clara struggled not to laugh.
"Stop it…" the Doctor growled warningly. Missy shut up with a shrug, turning to pick up her mug of tea.
"Give me my coloured coat, my amazing coloured coat…" Clara joined in quietly, her husky voice ever so slightly out of tune. The Doctor threw his hands up grumpily.
"Argh, I give up!" he snapped. "I don't know what devilishly diabolical alliance you two have entered into, but call me when you're back to the sniping and threats?"
He flounced out, as Clara laughed to herself, sensing Missy's figure pressing against hers.
"So, my dear," Missy breathed against her ear, one arm coming around Clara's torso, just under her collarbone, holding her tightly. "What devilishly diabolical deeds might we accomplish next?"
Clara gasped when she felt her gently bite her earlobe playfully, before trailing her lips down Clara's neck teasingly. "Stop it," she gasped.
"Now now, dearest," Missy whispered. "We were finally having a moment there. Don't spoil it."
"There is no 'we'," Clara bit back. "We're going to be stuck together for a long time. Don't mistake that for me liking you. I hate you."
"My point exactly, sweetheart," the Time Lady replied softly, her red lips teasing Clara's ear. "All of us are going to have to get along. Makes things interesting, doesn't it?"
Clara had had enough. She threw off Missy's arm and spun to face her, but she had the sinking feeling that was exactly what Missy wanted. She was right there, stepping into Clara's space, hauling her against her.
"Do you know the interesting thing about telepathic links?" the Time Lady asked her, pressing Clara's body into hers. The human shook her head determinedly, keeping her mouth strategically shut as Missy leaned in. She smiled against Clara's lips as their foreheads touched. "They have a tendency to linger," she whispered, closing her eyes as she gently pushed against Clara's mind.
Clara was subsumed beneath a wave of sensation before she could so much as cry out. But they weren't hers. They were Missy's.
The softness of her skin and the hard line of her jaw as Missy's red lips danced across it.
The feel of her own mouth as Missy licked her way inside, taking advantage of Clara's limp acquiescence. The wetness of her own tongue as it played obediently with Missy's.
The scorching heat of her human skin. Was that what it felt like whenever she hugged the Doctor? So much as touched him? No wonder he didn't like it…
Oh, he likes it sweetheart. A little too much. Now, much as I find them fascinating, perhaps a little less fantasising about the Doctor and little more focus on me? Hmm?
The words from Missy's mind fell into hers, as Clara gasped into their kiss. She was helpless against the onslaught of sensations, as she felt her own waist under Missy's hands, sliding down her hips, the feel of her own fingers sliding through Missy's hair, regaining a little control as she fulfilled the fantasy of tugging on the loosened locks that she'd had the moment she'd seen her new style.
She was delirious with lust when Missy abruptly pulled back, leaving her bereft as her mind retreated, and she gaped, panting. Missy smoothed her hair back into place with a flirtatious wink in Clara's direction as she walked away. "Your move, sweetheart," she called over her shoulder as she disappeared.
As expected, Missy found the Doctor sulking in the library, curled up on one of the sofas dotted around the cavernous room, glaring at a shelf of books. "Oh, you're not sulking, are you?" she pouted as she sidled towards him, well aware that in the candlelight of the library, her blouse was transparent. The Doctor tensed at her voice, as she set herself on his lap primly. "Stop looking all cross pants. Don't want to be getting any more wrinkles."
"Hah-bloody-hah," he muttered, and she sighed. With one hand, she tilted his head around and kissed him. Hard.
Her encounter with Clara had left her ready and wanting, and since she still couldn't have Clara, she would gladly have the Doctor instead. Of course, soon she'd have both but good things came to those who waited.
She didn't want Clara to succumb to her because she was so overwhelmed she had no other option. She could have had Clara then and there in the console room if she'd wished. But then she'd have had the tedious process of soothing the girl's moral heart attack afterwards and rebuilding the weak trust between them. No, it was far more fun, if frustrating, to watch her slow decline from the pedestal the Doctor had set her on for so long, and give in to her dark side.
But for now, she was more than content to press herself into her Doctor's arms as they came around her waist and pulled her into him. Abruptly, he sat up, bringing her with him as he undid the buttons of her blouse frantically.
"I know you're playing with Clara," he growled against her breastbone as she began to writhe against him. His mind pressed against hers willingly, and she let him in with a gasp. "You have to stop."
"Why?" she breathed, as his hand reached up and her hairstyle was wrecked for the second time that day. "It's what all of us want. I'm the only one trying to do anything about it."
The Doctor gasped as her mind presented him with image after image of the three of them, together, united in mind and body.
"I don't-" he tried to demur, but she hushed him with a kiss to his nose.
"Silly boy," she said fondly, stroking through his hair. "She's already thought about it. Already imagined it, in that deliciously devious mind of hers. She wants me, she wants you, she wants us. I want the pair of you too. And so do you, deep in your hearts. Now it's just time for you to accept that."
As their minds merged, the Doctor was left powerless to say anymore as Missy continued to bombard him with sensual fantasies about the three of them together. His hands worked at her clothing, and his at hers, until they were finally free of all constraints and she pushed him back against the sofa.
She was already aching and ready from before, and he thrust into her without delay, groaning against her at the warmth of her skin. He could smell traces of Clara on her, his Impossible Girl, her perfume combining with Missy's to drive him insane with wanting.
Their lips met as Missy sank against him and rolled her hips, stretched out along him like a very soft, very curvy blanket. Her hair fell around them in long curtains of coiled ringlets, and as their bodies joined effortlessly, he felt his mind pulled ever deeper into hers. Concern and worry dissipated as he experienced the aching pain of withdrawal and the joy of return as they made love.
He acknowledged the difference. In the console room, it had been sex. Pure, animalistic sex. And every time since.
Now, this…was making love. Free from her cutting comments or his frustrated brutality, the ghosts of their pasts held at bay, it felt right. There was one ghost present, of course. But he didn't mind this ghost.
In fact, even if he'd never admit it to her face, Missy was right. Possibly.
Missy's laughter echoed around the library as she intercepted that thought. He grimaced and moved against her harder, as she gasped as her climax grew. With an evil grin, ignoring his own lust, he took her weight and pressed her beneath him into the sofa cushions.
Missy had drawn back in surprise at their sudden change in position. The Doctor removed her hands from his hair and pressed them back into the cushions. She smirked at his grin. "See?" she gasped, panting. "I'm not the only who enjoys a bit of rough and tumble."
"Do you ever stop talking?" he asked in reply, taking her mouth again in lieu of a retort. He wasn't interested in talking anymore.
She reached for him again, but he pressed her wrists into the cushions warningly as he left her mouth, trailing devouring kisses down her neck as she arched, moaning. He teased her sensitive breasts with his tongue, refusing to give in to the temptation to move inside her, no matter how much she bucked her hips against him.
"She drives you insane, doesn't she?" he growled against her as he moved down her abdomen. "Welcome to my world."
He continued to tease her, drawing patterns on her stomach with his tongue, finally slipping out of her entirely, much to her disappointment as she communicated to him mentally. He grinned, promising her more if she would be patient. Her red nails gripped the cushions with a death hold, her red lips smudged and swollen, framed by black curls. She was beautiful and wild, like a jungle cat in his arms. And she was finally all his.
He finally reached his goal, sliding down between her legs and wedging them open with his shoulders. Her hearts sped up, as she moaned above him. He teased her by pressing a path of kisses down her thigh, relishing the soft, warm skin. "I'm going to write the alphabet on you with my tongue," he rasped, his voice reduced to a husky purr. "Until you come."
"Boring," she huffed out between pants. He raised his head, one impressive brow arched as her eyes widened. "Been there, done that. Human alphabets are so...inadequate."
"Whoever said anything about human alphabets?" he asked huskily, his Scottish accent getting deeper as his voice roughened. Her brows rose as his devilish smirk returned. "I meant the Gallifreyan alphabet."
He lowered his head without further comment, and luxuriated in her moans and screams as he did as he'd promised. She came, trembling beneath his tongue, before he'd even reached the forty-second letter. Amateur.
She mentally growled at that, fighting the lethargy in her limbs to sit up and pull him back atop her, sliding her legs around his hips to take him back inside her. She was overtly sensitive and shaking beneath him, so vulnerable and needy. It made him love her all the more.
To be continued...