Chapter Text
The Doctor is far more subdued for the next few hours, and of course Graham and Ryan notice. She dismisses them easily with a, “Got what I was craving after all,” and they seem satisfied with that answer, so all Yaz has to do is avoid eye contact with them and suppress a smirk. Everything’s fine, aside from the discomfort of the wetness in her underwear cooling rapidly and making the fabric cling to her.
But by the end of the day, Yaz’s patience has worn thin, and Ryan’s suggestion that they all sit in one of the TARDIS living rooms and watch a movie to wind down before bed makes her want to grind her teeth.
“Dunno, I’m not really feelin’ a movie,” she says stiffly.
“Oh,” says the Doctor quickly, “yeah! Me, neither. Ryan, Graham, why don’t you two watch a movie, and Yaz’ll go to bed, and I’ll go…do something else. TARDIS maintenance! Yeah, that’s it. I’ll do TARDIS maintenance.” She beams at them, nodding her head.
Ryan and Graham share a glance and then agree, shuffling off towards a room where they can watch a movie. Once they’re out of sight, the Doctor grabs Yaz by the arm and starts dragging her along down the hall.
“C’mon, no time to waste,” the Doctor says. “I’ve got orgasms to give ya. Unless you really are tired?” She seems to lose a bit of steam at the suggestion, glancing nervously back at Yaz and slowing her pace.
“No, no, that—sounds good. Let’s—Let’s do that.”
The Doctor’s grin is blinding, and she walks with renewed vigor.
“Ah, brilliant! Can’t wait.”
She leads Yaz into the same bedroom as before, shutting the door behind them and shoving Yaz further into the room.
“Doctor,” Yaz protests with a laugh, bouncing as she lands on her rear on the bed.
“Sorry,” the Doctor says, and doesn’t really sound very sorry at all. She climbs into Yaz’s lap, bracing herself with her hands on Yaz’s shoulders, and kisses her. Yaz holds onto the Doctor’s hips and kisses back, letting her eyes drift shut. She opens her mouth and the Doctor takes eager advantage with her tongue for a good thirty seconds, and then pulls back. Her lips are red and her cheeks flushed as she smiles widely at Yaz and says, “Kissing’s fun, isn’t it? I like kissing. Wasn’t always much for it, but there were exceptions, and I think I’ve really come ‘round on it.”
“That’s good,” Yaz giggles, and tucks her head against the Doctor’s neck to scrape her teeth along it.
The Doctor shudders. “Oh. Oh, that’s—nice, too.” She shifts in Yaz’s lap, restless. When Yaz nips at her, her hips jerk forward. “Mmm.”
Yaz withdraws and taps at the Doctor’s side, urging her off her lap so Yaz can shimmy out of her clothes. The Doctor watches her with wide eyes and parted lips as Yaz strips down to just her bra and boyshorts, then shifts back to sit properly all the way on the bed.
“C’mon, then,” Yaz prompts, and gestures to the Doctor’s own clothing. “Off with it all.” The assertiveness in her own tone startles her, and she quickly corrects: “If—I mean, only if you’re comfortable.”
The Doctor wastes no further time, practically tearing everything off to be left in her sports bra and boxers. As she crawls up the bed over Yaz, she says cheerily, “That’s alright. I don’t mind if you want to tell me what to do.” And then she drapes herself over Yaz’s body, leaning her whole weight on her so they’re pressed together from top to tail. “In fact, might prefer it. Only, tell me if I do something you don’t like.” She leans up so they can continue their kissing.
Yaz slots her thigh between the Doctor’s own and enjoys the feeling of the Doctor trailing open-mouthed kisses down her chest. The Doctor snakes her hands beneath Yaz to unclasp the bra and discard it over the edge of the bed. She draws one of Yaz’s nipples into her mouth, and Yaz thinks that it’s happening quite a bit like last time, except this time neither of them are wearing trousers. And this time, Yaz’ll be damned if she lets anything interrupt them before the Doctor touches her properly.
As the Doctor switches to Yaz’s other nipple, Yaz threads her fingers through soft blonde hair and murmurs, “You gonna be a good girl for me, Doctor?”
The Doctor gives a full-bodied shiver and nods, fingers spasming where they’re curled around Yaz’s ribs. She says, “Yes,” and breathes warm air over Yaz’s breasts. “Wanna lick you out this time.” She looks up at Yaz, eyes large and hopeful. “Can I? Please?”
Yaz exhales shakily. “Yeah.”
She lifts up so the Doctor can drag her wet knickers down her legs and toss them to the side, and then the Doctor dives in eagerly. She drags the flat of her tongue up from Yaz’s entrance to her clit in a broad, graceless stroke, and then moans like she’s the one receiving. Yaz groans in response and lets her legs fall open wider as the Doctor licks messily at her cunt. She parts Yaz’s labia with her tongue, trying to reach every part of her that she can, and Yaz curses and tangles her hands more thoroughly into the Doctor’s hair.
“Fuck, Yaz, you taste so good,” the Doctor says hoarsely, and then laps at her clit.
Yaz squeaks, tightening her grip with each pass of the Doctor’s tongue. She loses herself in the sensation, the pleasure of heat and slippery-wet muscle against her. She lets her eyes drift shut, petting the Doctor’s head mindlessly.
A soft whine and the sound of motion cause Yaz to open her eyes again and look down the bed. She immediately spots where one of the Doctor’s hands is shoved down the front of her own boxers, and lets out a breathy laugh. She taps lightly at the Doctor’s hip with her foot and says, “Really? Can’t even wait?”
The Doctor’s hand flies out of her boxers and her head snaps up as she realizes she’s been caught, cheeks turning bright red. Sheepishly, she says, “Sorry, Yaz! I just—”
“Make it up to me, then,” Yaz interrupts, and uses her grip on the Doctor’s hair to pull her face back towards her cunt. “Be a good girl and finish what you started, and then afterwards I’ll let you have what you need.”
The Doctor nods quickly, and then latches onto Yaz’s clit and sucks on it hard enough that Yaz’s whole body almost jackknifes off the bed. The Doctor lets up a little, applying gentler suction and pressing her nose into the trimmed patch of dark hair above Yaz’s cunt. She uses both hands to hold Yaz’s thighs open, and also probably to reassure her that she’s not touching herself again.
Cool, slender fingers probe gently at Yaz’s entrance, teasing, and the Doctor asks, “D’you want..?”
“Yes,” Yaz says immediately. “Please.” The Doctor slides two fingers inside her and Yaz lets out a pleased groan. “Fuck, yeah,” she pants.
The Doctor continues to suck on her clit and thrust her fingers in and out, and Yaz feels the pleasure building in her abdomen. It gathers rapidly, like water receding from the shoreline before a tidal wave, her muscles clenching around the Doctor’s fingers and clit throbbing rapidly in time with her heartbeat. The Doctor’s eyes are hazy and half-lidded, and her legs are pressed together tightly; the sight just pushes Yaz closer to her orgasm, the idea of the Doctor being so lost in what she’s doing and so desperate for any sort of pressure between her legs. The Doctor curls her fingers on each stroke, and the wave finally crashes down around Yaz, her eyes slamming shut and the sound of blood rushing in her ears as she comes. She groans and gasps, and the Doctor keeps licking her through it, trailing her tongue down where her own fingers are buried in Yaz to try and catch some of the fluid that’s leaking from her.
When Yaz pushes her away gently, the Doctor sits back on her haunches and uses the back of her hand to wipe her face, humming happily. She sticks her fingers in her mouth, slurping obscenely as she cleans them off.
Fucking hell, Yaz thinks.
“How’s that, then?” the Doctor asks, voice imploring as she wipes the saliva off her fingers onto the boxers that she’s still wearing.
“Fuck, Doctor, that was so good. You were so good for me,” Yaz says, and the Doctor moans, putting more of her weight onto one of her heels in an attempt to get pressure against her cunt. Yaz sits up and beckons her closer with a, “C’mere.”
The Doctor scrambles into Yaz’s lap, straddling her thigh, and Yaz lifts it higher and flexes to give the Doctor a firmer surface to press herself against.
“Yaz,” the Doctor whimpers, and her hips are stuttering against Yaz already, little half-thrusts like she’s trying to hold herself back. “Please, I need—can I—?”
“Yeah, baby,” Yaz says, “you can have whatever you want. You’ve been such a good girl for me.”
The Doctor whines again and starts to rut against Yaz’s leg, nodding her head and pleading with her unfocused eyes for Yaz to keep talking. “I’m—I’ve been a good girl,” she gasps, her cunt making slick sounds through her boxers.
“That’s right,” Yaz agrees, hands on the Doctor’s hips to guide her motion. “You’re my good girl, even when you’re coming in your pants like earlier today.” The Doctor shudders and hides her face in Yaz’s neck. Yaz double-checks, “It’s okay when I talk down to you like that?”
The Doctor nods enthusiastically, breathing harshly and rutting against Yaz’s leg. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s—” She trails off with a nasally moan.
“Fuck. Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” Yaz keeps her voice gentle, even through the condescension. “You like it when I remind you what a mess you are. Can’t even wait to get your clothes off, can you? And now you’re here humping my leg like a dog.”
The Doctor lets out a little cry, bracing herself with her hands to get better leverage and rut harder, faster. Her eyes are screwed shut and she manages to get out, “Y-Yeah. I’m—yeah.” Then she sucks in a sharp breath and hangs her head down to focus on what she’s doing.
Yaz’s thigh is starting to ache with the effort of keeping it tensed, but she manages it, running her hands in a sweeping arc across the smooth skin of the Doctor’s back. She’s not really sure where the words are coming from at this point, but hearing them seems to be getting the Doctor off, so she keeps talking: “Yeah, that’s right. You’re my good girl, though, aren’t you? My good dog. Sweet little puppy, gonna come on my leg.”
“Uh-huh,” the Doctor sobs breathlessly, cheeks red and eyes still shut tight. One of her hands grips Yaz’s hip hard, the other on her shoulder, short fingernails biting shallow crescents into Yaz’s skin. “F-Fuck.”
“Gonna come for me, puppy?”
The Doctor’s answer is not a verbal one. She curls over herself with a little yip, her hips stuttering to a stop as her whole body goes stiff. Yaz can feel the flood of wetness on her leg, can maybe even feel the Doctor’s cunt twitching through her soaked boxers as the Doctor groans in relief.
“Fuck, Yaz,” she breathes heavily, slumping against Yaz’s body as she comes down from it. “That were—bloody hell.”
“You’re swearing a lot,” Yaz observes.
The Doctor picks her head up off Yaz’s shoulder, looking startled. She says, “Hey, yeah, I am, aren’t I? ‘S weird. Never really been someone who swears before. Actually, it was a rule. But I guess it doesn’t really matter, since it’s not the only rule that’s been broken.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No hanky-panky on the TARDIS,” the Doctor says, and Yaz laughs.
“Yeah, ship’s sailed on that one, hasn’t it?”
“Truthfully, it sailed a long time ago,” the Doctor admits. “Y’know, a baby was conceived aboard the TARDIS, once.”
Yaz’s eyes widen. “Really? Not—I mean, it wasn’t yours?”
“No, no. My friends had their honeymoon here. Well, not here here. Not in this bed, I mean. But a different one.” She looks around the room. “Probably.”
“A baby conceived in the TARDIS… Is that safe?” Yaz asks suddenly. “I mean…” She trails off.
“That baby had a very serious case of time-head,” the Doctor says gravely, and Yaz looks stricken.
“Time-head? What’s that?”
“Really really really big hair.”
Yaz takes a second to register that and then snorts, shoving the Doctor off her so they can lie down next to each other. She scolds, “You worried me for a second!”
“Sorry,” the Doctor says, smiling, and leans in for a kiss.
Yaz grants it with enthusiasm, and she can taste the lingering remnants of herself on the Doctor’s tongue. They make out, easy and languid, for longer than Yaz can keep track of. Eventually, her eyelids start to droop.
“We should get some sleep,” she says. “Shall I go back to my room?”
“Y’can stay here if you want,” the Doctor replies, finally pulling off her sports bra and boxers to sleep naked.
“Isn’t it..? Isn’t this your room?”
“I don’t really have a room. When I need to sleep, I just…pick a spot. But I sleep less often than you humans do, so I haven’t really designated a specific room that’s just mine.”
Yaz hums thoughtfully as she nuzzles her face into the Doctor’s neck. She considers thinking up a reply, but she’s now a lot more interested in running her hands over the newly-exposed skin than she is in discussing the Doctor’s sleeping habits. She palms the Doctor’s breasts and the Doctor sighs, arching slightly into the touch. Yaz thumbs at rosy pink nipples which tighten up under her hands.
“Feel nice?” Yaz murmurs sleepily.
The Doctor nods. “Yeah. Never really paid much attention to them since I got them, but—yeah. That’s definitely nice.”
“Mmm. Good.”
Yaz licks her way across the Doctor’s chest, sucking and nipping as she goes, and soon the Doctor is squirming and panting again. Yaz brushes her hands lightly along the undersides of the Doctor’s breasts, feeling the softness of them and enjoying the little shivers she gets in response.
She slips a hand between the Doctor’s legs, feeling her way through damp curls down to swollen flesh. The Doctor mirrors her movement, trailing a hand down Yaz’s body, fingers easily finding Yaz’s clit and drawing light circles over it. Yaz spreads her legs wider and tucks her own hand deeper, sliding down so she can press two fingers gently into the Doctor’s cunt.
They lie on their sides like that, facing each other, hands working between each other’s legs. Pleasure like sparklers, hot and fizzy, races through Yaz’s body in response to the Doctor’s touch. The Doctor’s hips jump towards her, seeking firmer pressure as she glides her thumb across the Doctor’s clit. The air between them is heavy with the slick noise of their movements and the heady smell of sex.
The Doctor grins lazily at Yaz, breath fanning out across her face. “This really is fun,” she says. “I can’t believe how much time I spent in this new body not doing this.”
Yaz laughs, and kisses her. When they pull apart from the kiss, the Doctor’s eyes have fallen shut in concentration. Yaz fucks her slowly with two fingers, pumping in and out at a leisurely pace, occasionally swiping over her clit with her thumb. The Doctor’s own fingers are drawing patterns over Yaz’s clit, pushing her steadily and unhurriedly towards another orgasm.
“You gonna finish first again?” Yaz teases.
“Depends on how you talk to me,” the Doctor answers honestly, eyes fluttering open and revealing that her pupils have almost completely swallowed her irises.
“Tell me how you want me to talk to you,” Yaz commands, and presses hard against the Doctor’s clit for a second before letting up, drawing a ragged yelp out of her.
“I want—I want you to call me that again,” the Doctor pants, wriggling against Yaz’s hand.
“A good girl?” Yaz asks.
“That, too. But I meant—” The Doctor cuts herself off, going bright scarlet.
“Aww,” Yaz simpers. “You like being my puppy?” The Doctor nods, tucking her face under Yaz’s chin to hide it. Yaz withdraws her hands from between the Doctor’s legs and runs them down her back, petting. “Okay. Well, why don’t you show me again what a good pup you can be?”
The Doctor nods immediately and sinks down the bed to put her mouth on Yaz again. She whines as she laps at Yaz’s cunt, pushing Yaz’s thighs further apart with her wet fingers. Her tongue feels just as good as last time, even though her movements are sloppy; what she lacks in finesse, she makes up for in eagerness, licking into Yaz like she’s never tasted anything better. Yaz moans and scratches at the Doctor’s scalp.
“Good girl,” Yaz praises her. “Good puppy.” It feels dirty to say, which makes it all the more thrilling, and she finds herself repeating the words to relish in both the tingle it sends up her spine and the desperate noises it draws out of the Doctor every time.
The Doctor’s tongue presses inside her, slippery and warm, but still not as warm as a human’s would be. She opens her mouth wide to wrap it around as much of Yaz’s vulva as she can, and the breathy little noises she makes send vibrations through Yaz’s whole body. The Doctor stays like that for a moment, tongue writhing in Yaz’s cunt, and then she draws back to curl her lips around Yaz’s clit. She sucks and licks, fingers digging into Yaz’s thighs, and then Yaz is gasping out praise as she comes, wetness spilling onto the blankets and coating the Doctor’s face. When her cunt has stopped spasming and her muscles unlock, she strokes the Doctor’s temples and murmurs, “Good girl. Now, clean me up.”
The Doctor takes to the task easily, lapping up the mess on the inside of Yaz’s thighs and leaving her sticky with saliva instead of her own slick. When Yaz is as clean as she’s going to get, the Doctor licks up what’s dripping from her own chin.
Yaz sits up and gestures for the Doctor to lie down. She obeys right away, flopping onto her belly and pulling a pillow beneath her chest, to prop herself up so she can crane around to see Yaz behind her. Yaz kneels in the space between the Doctor’s thighs, running her hands up to cup her ass.
The Doctor tilts her hips up and back, whining plaintively, exposing the way her cunt is drooling onto the bedspread. She begs, “Yaz, please. Please, please, please.”
Yaz has to take a shaky breath at that. Still, there’s a game to be played here, so she says, “Please what?”
“Please fuck me.”
“So desperate for me, all over again.” Yaz slides two fingers back into the Doctor.
“Yes,” the Doctor pants, “yes, yeah.” She drops her head and grips the blankets harder, trying to push up enough to get to her elbows and knees, but Yaz plants a hand on one of her thighs to keep her down.
“None of that,” Yaz scolds. “If you want it, you have to lie on your tummy and take it.”
The Doctor moans and nods, hips falling back to the bed obediently. Her legs spread wider, but she makes no further move to take any kind of control, and Yaz rewards her with a third finger.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Yaz,” the Doctor chants, knuckles white with the force of her grip on the bedspread.
“Do puppies talk?” Yaz asks, and the Doctor clamps her jaw shut and shakes her head. “That’s what I thought. Be good, now.”
Yaz pumps her fingers at a moderate pace, keeping her movements smooth and controlled. The Doctor huffs out a low complaint but doesn’t speak, instead shooting a pleading look at Yaz over her shoulder.
“What is it, puppy?” Yaz asks, running her free hand over the Doctor’s flank. “You want it harder?”
The Doctor nods desperately, and this time when her hips lift a little, Yaz lets it happen, lets her rise just enough on her knees to give Yaz a better angle. Yaz fucks her more roughly but at the same speed, enjoys the sight of her fingers disappearing into wet pink warmth. Clear sticky fluid drips down her hand and pools beneath the Doctor’s body, and the Doctor grinds back against Yaz and whimpers.
“Not very good at following directions, are you, puppy?” Yaz observes. “Can’t seem to stay down on the bed like I asked.”
The Doctor makes an apologetic noise and shakes her head, wriggling her hips as Yaz thrusts. Yaz slides her free hand beneath the Doctor’s body, palm-up, and brushes a fingertip lightly against the Doctor’s clit. The effect is immediate, sending the Doctor crashing back down against the bed, rubbing against the proffered hand and once again as flat as she can get against the mattress. Yaz keeps fucking her with her right hand, and flutters the fingers of her left against the Doctor’s clit as the Doctor ruts downward, pinning Yaz’s hand between the bed and her body.
Yaz experiments a little with pinching lightly and drawing circles, but what seems to get the best results is just keeping her fingers still and applying constant pressure for the Doctor to grind against. The Doctor is moaning constantly, low in her throat, and Yaz tracks a bead of sweat as it rolls from her neck down her spine to cling near the dimples in her back.
Yaz changes the tempo of her thrusts, increasing in speed, and the low moan turns into a repetitive sharp whine, a yelping cry like a dog might make, over and over again.
“That’s it, pup. Whenever you’re ready,” Yaz encourages softly, and finally the Doctor stills against her, cunt pulsing around her fingers and wetness leaking into both of Yaz’s hands. The Doctor lets out another high noise as she comes, and then collapses fully onto the bed.
“Oh,” the Doctor sighs, breathing hard.
Yaz extricates herself gently and then flops onto the bed beside the Doctor, holding her hand up to admire the way the dim lighting in the room gleams off the viscous, rapidly-cooling fluid that coats her fingers.
They both lay there for a moment in the quiet, steadying their breathing.
“That were something, then,” Yaz says after the lull.
The Doctor nods dazedly. “Absolutely brilliant.”
“Never done anything like that before,” Yaz continues. “I mean, the—the puppy bit.” It feels a lot sillier to say out loud now that the moment has passed.
“Me either. Were nice, though. I liked not having to think. Were nice to just…follow animal impulse. And try to be obedient.” She flushes a shade of red. “Even when I weren’t really succeeding at that bit.”
“Should I get you a collar and a leash?” Yaz asks, and really it’s meant to be a joke, but the Doctor’s blush gets deeper, and Yaz croaks out an, “Oh.”
“Think it’s time for a kip,” the Doctor says.
“Right,” Yaz agrees. “Just gonna go wash up real quick.”
She makes her way into the ensuite, where she cleans herself off as much as she can. After a moment, the Doctor stumbles in after her to do the same. By the time they both return to the bedroom, there’s fresh sheets on the bed.
“Oh!” says the Doctor, and looks up. “Thank you!”
The TARDIS beeps softly in recognition.
“Did the TARDIS change the bedspread for us?” Yaz asks dubiously.
“Yep. ‘S nice of her. Now neither of us has to sleep in the wet spot.” The Doctor seems unbothered by the ship’s interference, climbing happily into the clean bed and gesturing for Yaz to do the same.
Yaz takes a second to be weirded out by the remembrance that the ship is sentient and therefore completely aware of what just happened in this bedroom, and then decides that if the Doctor can shrug it off, so can she. She crawls into the bed, and the Doctor inches closer until they’re as close as they can be without touching.
Sleep is pulling at Yaz’s eyelids. She yawns and says, “Good night, Doctor.”
“Good night, Yaz,” the Doctor says. “And thanks for helping me out.”
Yaz snorts. “Don’t say it like I was doing you a favor or something. It were a mutual thing.”
The Doctor’s smile is sleepy, but as bright as ever. “A mutual thing. In that case, I swear, I’m gonna give you even more orgasms, next time.”
Yaz laughs. “Alright. Next time, then.” She’s looking forward to it already.