Archive of Our Own

“So,” the Master, her oldest friend fresh off a betrayal and oh didn’t that burn, “which one of them are you fucking this time?”

He, like the others, had always held her fascination with lesser species as something of a bemused horror. Sex, when removed from receptive telepathy became a purely physical, carnal act.

It was an unfair assumption, regardless.

She didn’t start fucking Yaz until after the thing with the spies.

After the Master. After finding Galifrey, dead. After the newfound doubts of her own identity. It was enough for her to realize that it was a problem, to recognize in herself the newfound bid for control. It was not enough for her to stop.

It wasn’t as if she wasn’t tempted before. Yaz, like most of the companions before her, was lovely. Dark hair, dark eyes, and that passion. Passion tempered with innocence. Her type. She was happy enough to let it slide, though.

Maybe part of her was happy enough to see the adoration in her eyes.

Happy enough to be the Doctor to someone.

Then, she wasn’t quite sure what being the Doctor even meant.

Yaz was ignoring her. She had been quiet since the mess at the orphan planet. This time, she was talking on her phone as she waited for the others to come back from the changing rooms. Back turned, voice quiet and intent.

“...no, I’m fine,” she caught. A voice responded female, her sister probably. It didn’t really matter. Of course, Yaz was fine. Humans and their domestics.

Yaz’s shirt rode up and the Doctor’s gaze lingered on the strip of exposed skin above her trousers. Thought about going under there and sliping her hand under her companions shirt. Feel the shudder and the gooseflesh that would appear like a phantom under her fingers.

Hang up, she’d tell her and Yaz would make an excuse.

Yaz would turn, and she’d try to hide her interest. The flush in her cheeks and the sudden dilating of her pupils. Maybe the younger woman would push her away or even snap at her. It didn’t matter when the Doctor could feel her companion's arousal echo in her head with a touch.

Yaz glanced her direction before looking away and talking into her phone intently. Her shoulders curved in on themselves and her hair fell in her face. Playing at elusive.

She glanced at the clock. They had enough time before the others came back, right-

Ryan stumbled backwards into the console room, talking animatedly to Graham. The Doctor dropped her gaze to her hands feeling oddly guilty. Caught.

Right, the trip. She was taking them on a trip.

“Took you lot long enough,” she called over her shoulder. Ryan waved her off and she saw Yaz hang up her phone. The younger woman still wasn’t coming over. The Doctor hid a frown and made an effort to look busy.

Fiddling with the console, the Doctor remembered their first time.

It had been after another trip to Galifrey. Smoke still lingering in her coat as she stepped through the doors. It had been late by human standards and she had run her companions ragged through back to back adventures. She had been sure no one would disturb her.

She hadn’t expected Yaz to be awake.

“Where were you?” From behind her. Yaz was sitting in the dark. The only thing clearly visible was the shine of her eyes. If she hadn’t spoken, the Doctor would have walked right past her. Her hair was undone and fell down her back in a long wave. The Doctor wondered for a vicious, sudden moment if her companion was spying on her. If Yaz had seen through her ploy to be alone and stayed up in response.

She wondered if Yaz had opened the doors. Maybe even followed her outside while she walked through her planet’s graveyard.

It wasn’t like she’d notice. It was only her and the dead, after all.

For a heartbeat she became so blindingly, irrationally angry that she considered marching Yaz out the doors of the TARDIS with only the clothes on her back. To Earth, if she was feeling nice, to Galifrey if she wasn’t.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Pulled a lever too harshly to send them into the vortex. A jolt ran up her fingers. A reproach. The old girl in her head warning her to have caution. It was only them she realized the shaking of her hands.

“Couldn’t.” It was said simply enough. It drew her attention away from the consol. Yaz’s expression was sharp, alert, but the Doctor ould make out the telltale marks of clammy skin. Bags under her eyes.

Nightmares, then. Something relaxed in her chest at that, but the lingering question was still there.

What did she see?

“So you came to find me,” She surmised.

“You’re usually awake,” Yaz confirmed. The younger woman stretched, her mouth caught in a yawn, and suddenly the Doctror was aware of the length of her companion's dark limbs. The rude jut of her collarbone as it peaked out from the collar of her pajama shirt.

Bad thoughts. Eyes forward, Doctor. No peaking. No matter, the reflection was easy enough to find in the Tardis console. The temperature must have been a bit too cool for a human because it became obvious Yaz wasn’t wearing a bra.

Her mouth suddenly felt dry. Her eyes met Yaz’s in the reflection and a possibility stirred in her mind.

Humans were odd about modesty and here was her companion coming around flaunting her body in a scrap of a shirt and skin tight shorts.

She had seen that before.

With Rose. Then, Amy. It had taken the redhead a while to settle into the reality of being married. And Clara. Clara had been practically daring her to cross the line in the sand their entire time together.

If anything, this was more innocent. An offer, not a demand.

“You should talk to us.” Yaz said quietly. “You should talk to someone.” Her expression was oddly insistent and her eyes strayed away from her, towards the TARDIS doors.

What did she see?

Panic struck, and the Doctor’s grip became white knuckled on the console stick. She was pushing away from the console before she knew it.

Caution, the warning from her TARDIS echoed in her mind. Caution.

It was quickly taken over by her own thoughts. How long would it be before her companion ran off to report to the others? How many prying questions and looks would she have to endure? Even worse was the sick sense of vertigo of explaining what had happened.

Her home was gone. Her friends, family were gone. Her past was in flux and nothing she had was certain. Inside this TARDIS were the last remnants she had of being the Doctor. Her and her fam-her companions and the adventures they shared was all she had to hold onto.

She didn’t know who she’d be if that unraveled too.

Yaz shifted, an inhale of breath like a statement was about to come to life.

The lone thread of control broke away and she crossed the distance to her companion before could talk herself out of it.

It was a perfectly reasonable plan, she told herself as her lips met her companions. The Doctor savored the surprised gasp as she pressed forward. Teeth clacked. Perfectly thought out. Her companion’s back arched and the Doctor could feel the press of her breasts through her too thin shirt.

Just a quick exchange of fluids as she checked her companion’s recent memories. She could easily wipe the past five minutes from Yaz’s short-term memories and then everything would be back to normal.

In the guise of intimacy, she slid one hand up to cup Yaz’s jaw and slid into her mind. It was a perfectly harmless deception. Yaz was clearly attracted to her, so this method would make what she needed to do seamless.

Things went off kilter immediately.

Reading a mind isn’t like reading a book. Things aren’t placed out reasonably. Everything is connected by associations. You had to pull on the right thread to get what you wanted. So, the first thing she encounters in Yaz’s mind isn’t her memories.

Elation. Surprise. Awe/adulation/affection. Lust.

A glimpse of the Doctor herself. Blonde hair mussed. Lips swollen and red and eyes dark.

Again, a vision of herself falling through the train. A manic grin as she turned to face Yaz.

Herself, awash in a rainstorm, head tipped up towards the sky and tongue extended.

All images fixated on her with a very specific emotional signature.

Yaz loved her.

It all hit the Doctor like a sledgehammer, causing her to stutter in her rhythm. Guilt welled. She tried to pull away but Yaz followed the movement, kissing deeper. A wave of heat surgered through the Doctor without her meaning. She didn’t know if it came from Yaz or herself. Her breath came in sharp bursts. She could feel a liquid pool between her legs as blood flow began to increase. A low, throbbing ache began to build.

Yaz loved her.

It seemed blindly obvious in hindsight, but she hadn’t been paying proper attention.

She should stop. She had gone far past a quick distraction. Had invaded her friend’s privacy and touched on subjects that were better left unspoken. It was getting rapidly more difficult to erase the last few minutes. Not when the emotional significance was this heavy to her. This wasn’t fair to her companion.

A spark of awe soaked lust shot through her. The Doctor moaned without realizing it. Tightening her hands, pulling the younger woman closer.

Yaz didn’t look at her with suspicion, now. Yaz looked at her like she hung the moon.

This was a bad idea.

Didn’t she deserve it, though? Yaz was clearly willing. Eager, even. It didn’t have to become a big thing. Just one night. Just a bit of stress relief.

She was so sick of hurting.

It felt so good.

Then, teeth in her neck. Yaz’s moan in her ear. Grasping hands, pulling her close. Hands grasping under her coat, fiddling with her suspenders. Need ran through her, not her own. An instinctual, human desire for closeness. It made her ache.

It was consent enough.

She allowed the fever that had sparked off of her companion to infect her too. Kissed her with tongue and then bit Yaz’s lower lip with her teeth until it bruised.

A gasp and an intoxicating surge of pleasure and pain echoed off of her companion. Head swimming, the Doctor had to bite back a moan. Humans, she had forgotten, were so raw in emotional responses.

She broke away, remembering to let her companion catch her breath. Felt the heartbeat thrum under her companion’s skin, so fast it almost matched her own.

Yaz’s wide dark eyes stared at her. Shining in excitement and arousal and perhaps a little bit of fear. Her clothes were mussed and her dark skin was flushed. A single, irrational moment the Doctor never wanted this moment to end.

It was broken by Yaz leaning forward and capturing her lips, initiating this time. There was more confidence in her movements, now. The kiss was careful, precise and the Doctor could feel the younger woman’s intense focus any responses elicited.

And there were responses. It was oddly hard to control them. She could feel her body syncing up to her companion. Her breath was matching the tempo of the younger woman’s and beads of preparation were starting to form on her brow.

Above all, the haze of arousal had sunk in. The omnipresent feeling of need. It was a marvel humans managed to function through it.

Yaz threaded her fingers through the Doctor’s hair and there was a sharp ache when her companion tightened her grip. Yaz took several quick, decisive steps towards the console, and the Doctor suddenly got an image of herself perched there, mouth caught in a moan and Yaz’s head in between her thighs.

A bolt of heat went through her at the image, but internally she rebelled. Midstep, she spun Yaz around until her companion’s chest was pressed against the console. Her weight, flush against the younger woman’s back, pinning her there. The Doctor felt a displeased thrum from her TARDIS at what she was doing and shoved it away.

Her hand went down to her companion’s scrap of sleep shorts and slid her fingers under them and her pants. Pulled them off and felt Yaz’s bare skin underneath her hands. Realized with a jolt of amusement that she had never even bothered to take off Yaz’s shirt.

“Doc-” A choked off sound from Yaz, accompanied by a flash of uncertainty. It threw her off. Annoyance surged for a moment at the distraction and on instinct she reached out and stroked the current of lust underneath Yaz’s thoughts.

The warm haze returned. Yaz moaned and the Doctor felt her herself ache in response. She began to wonder if Yaz could feel her through her clothe's dampness from where they were pressed together.

Her hand slid down Yaz’s front and finally touched her. Her companion was soaked, and that realization sent a heady wave through her. A stroke to her clit and the Doctor felt an echo of pleasure spark through her own mind. Yaz moaned and her hips bucked against her hand and it all fell together in a heady wave.

Press hander. Get closer. Yaz’s moans were encouragement that drove her.

More.

One finger, two. Curl it inside of her and draw a ragged breath out of Yaz.

More.

Set a punishing rhythm until the echoes of pleasure-pain spark into awareness.

It wasn’t enough.

Yaz was close to the brink. Thighs trembling. Moaning. Mind a turbulent mess of pleasure. The Doctor was too. She slid her awareness as close as she dared, feeling Yaz’s hot sharp pleasure spark through her too.

Closer.

Curled fingers. Mind stuttered. She had dipped a bit too close, felt the edges of Yaz’s mind waver at the pressure, and give away in a sudden burst. Reality flickered. Yaz cried out in pain but spasmed against her fingers so hard she worried something had broken. The orgasm hit her seconds later, pure telepathic pleasure washing through her mind.

For a moment, there was nothing but relief.

It was almost enough to make up for the way Yaz looked at her, after. Still leaning against the console. Dark eyes gleaming with tears. The painful echo of the bond that she had formed hung between them like a curse. The Doctor had wiped sweaty hair out of her companion's face in a parody of intimacy and tried not to think that she had broken something between them. Something altogether precious.

She told herself it was a mistake. Promised it would be the last time.

It wasn’t.

Now, weeks later, she lost herself in setting the TARDIS to leave the time vortex. It had been easier in the last couple of months to sum up the manic energy that had been so present at the beginning of this regeneration.

So much easier to feel like herself.

Before pulling the lever that would send them on their way, she looked up and checked the TARDIS mirror. Yaz’s eyes greeted her. The younger woman stood ever so slightly apart from Ryan and Graham, crossing her arms.

The Doctor held the gaze until she could see a flush appear under her companion’s dark skin.

She remembered the fight they had at the orphan planet. Remembered Yaz’s taste running down her chin, after. Felt a thrill in a little in how even as livid as her companion claimed to be she still couldn’t look away.

Turning from the mirror, she faced her friends and flashed a grin.

“Ready,” she asked them. Graham and Ryan answered in the affirmative. Yaz dropped her gaze and looked towards the TARDIS door. She could see the blush travel down her companion’s neck.

“Brilliant,” the Doctor said, and it was. She grabbed the last lever and pulled.