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Doctor Who Fic - Fly in amber
Mucha smoochies to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
uktechgirl for brutal honesty and a month long fanwank on this and that and gingerminxings that produced this (amongst a couple of other ideas)
Yup, Turlough doing nasty things to the Doctor under the control of the Black Guardian.
Title: Fly in Amber
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
taleya
Rating: PG
Pairing: Turlough / Fifth. In a fashion.
Warning: Dark as hell. AU.
Striped ties and pale skin. Cream coats and gasping lips.
He doesn't want to do this. This is...wrong. Even in his confused state, mind crippled and weak he understands this on some level. This is wrong. He mustn't do this. He mustn't do this.
A gasp...lips opening around a moan, a cry, he isn't sure which, staring hypnotised, his own tongue darting out to lick the sound from the air, taste sweeter than honey as it drips down his throat.
This isn't him. This cannot be him. But laughter rises in his mind, twisting his limbs and his thoughts are swept away by the realisation that he is nothing but a puppet to his master. He must obey. He must...
Blonde hair matted with sweat, writhing against the bed. Arms straining with force enough to break against the bonds holding their wrists fast. So pretty. His plaything. So very pretty.
He must...realise. He must...fight. His mind is screaming at him, screaming from some hidden corner like a beaten and frightened child. He can hear it, tearing at his brain, making his hands claw at his hair as if to rip these thoughts out, crush his own skull, tear it asunder and release them.
Slender fingers, bled china-white by lack of circulation, twitching, clutching at air.
He must...
A breathless voice pleads with him, pleads for him, sound shivering on the periphery of hearing but the gentle words are drowned out by mocking black laughter and his hands fall away from his head, clenching brutally against soft clothing, clawing at it, shredding it away and clutching at the firm skin beneath.
He wants to hurt. He wants to destroy.
Skin so cool against his wandering lips. Twin hearts beating against his own.
To love. To cherish.
The glitter of light on a blade.
He must...
Blood staining his hands
He must -
Bloodless lips gasping at the air in the final moments, so prettily, so wantonly, chest heaving under his ruthless hand, body jerking under his own.
He must obey.
A flash of light, and a new body. A new Doctor lies exhausted on the bed.
The laughter rings anew in his mind.
And the game begins again.
uktechgirl for brutal honesty and a month long fanwank on this and that and gingerminxings that produced this (amongst a couple of other ideas)Yup, Turlough doing nasty things to the Doctor under the control of the Black Guardian.
Title: Fly in Amber
Author:
taleyaRating: PG
Pairing: Turlough / Fifth. In a fashion.
Warning: Dark as hell. AU.
Striped ties and pale skin. Cream coats and gasping lips.
He doesn't want to do this. This is...wrong. Even in his confused state, mind crippled and weak he understands this on some level. This is wrong. He mustn't do this. He mustn't do this.
A gasp...lips opening around a moan, a cry, he isn't sure which, staring hypnotised, his own tongue darting out to lick the sound from the air, taste sweeter than honey as it drips down his throat.
This isn't him. This cannot be him. But laughter rises in his mind, twisting his limbs and his thoughts are swept away by the realisation that he is nothing but a puppet to his master. He must obey. He must...
Blonde hair matted with sweat, writhing against the bed. Arms straining with force enough to break against the bonds holding their wrists fast. So pretty. His plaything. So very pretty.
He must...realise. He must...fight. His mind is screaming at him, screaming from some hidden corner like a beaten and frightened child. He can hear it, tearing at his brain, making his hands claw at his hair as if to rip these thoughts out, crush his own skull, tear it asunder and release them.
Slender fingers, bled china-white by lack of circulation, twitching, clutching at air.
He must...
A breathless voice pleads with him, pleads for him, sound shivering on the periphery of hearing but the gentle words are drowned out by mocking black laughter and his hands fall away from his head, clenching brutally against soft clothing, clawing at it, shredding it away and clutching at the firm skin beneath.
He wants to hurt. He wants to destroy.
Skin so cool against his wandering lips. Twin hearts beating against his own.
To love. To cherish.
The glitter of light on a blade.
He must...
Blood staining his hands
He must -
Bloodless lips gasping at the air in the final moments, so prettily, so wantonly, chest heaving under his ruthless hand, body jerking under his own.
He must obey.
A flash of light, and a new body. A new Doctor lies exhausted on the bed.
The laughter rings anew in his mind.
And the game begins again.
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*lamely wanders off*
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and that icon...still....*mind tilts sideways*
You must have spent waaaaay too much time on it. And it shows. 'cos it's fucking brilliant.
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I love this like the lovely thing it is.
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I suppose if you start hitting the sort of ranges that make small dogs whimper in pain, then yes....
I was "hmmm" over this until you pretty much pointed out just about every damned point I'd worked into there that I wasn't sure was clear enough. Made me a very happy leya ^_^
(listened to Omega yet?)
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Listened to Omega ep1 last night and enjoyed muchly: might hit 2 tonight.
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Do your provide a numbered diagram for that for clarity ;)? Personally I'd say mostly Turlough because I'd think the BG would get kicks out of manipulating him enough to get him to wreak havoc on his own.
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