Fly in Amber
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.
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
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.
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.