nonelvis: (DW Twelve)
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Title: Old-fashioned Love
Characters/Pairing(s): Twelfth Doctor/Missy, Kate Lethbridge-Stewart
Rating: Adult
Word count: 577
Spoilers: through "Dark Water"
Warnings: none
Summary: They kiss like breathing, like this is all their bodies were made to do. They should be gasping for air, but draw all the oxygen they need from one another.
Disclaimer: Not mine, obviously.

Author's Notes: Unbeta'ed and likely to be Moffed later today.

::xposted to [community profile] dwfiction and [livejournal.com profile] dwfiction, and archived at Teaspoon and AO3


The TARDIS lands inside UNIT's cells as if there were no shielding at all. Even the anti-artron energy alarms remain silent, and Kate Lethbridge-Stewart makes a note to herself to contact Dr. Shaw on the moonbase to review Osgood's security work.

UNIT can see everything through the seven cameras they have trained on Missy's cell. When the Doctor pins Missy against the wall, hands locked above her head, and dares her to take him on, Missy responds by freeing her hands, lunging for the Doctor's face, biting his lower lip.

They kiss like breathing, like this is all their bodies were made to do. They should be gasping for air, but draw all the oxygen they need from one another.

Osgood flees the observation room. Kate watches briefly, dispassionate, analysing technique, then orders the cameras turned off for the next ten minutes.

"This won't take long," she says. "And don't expect either of them to be there when you turn the cameras back on."

* * *


The Doctor's lip throbs where Missy bit it, and the pain worsens when Missy runs her tongue along it, over and over. He doesn't ask her to stop.

"Clara's left me," he says. "She said she was done with the dead."

"I'm not dead." Missy reaches for the Doctor's belt, runs a hand over the front of his trousers. "Apparently, neither are you."

The Doctor hitches Missy's bulky skirts to her waist. "Pantaloons?" he says.

"I told you. I'm old-fashioned." She lowers his trousers and underwear in one motion and reaches for his cock, already hard. She nips at his neck, whispers in his ear. "But even old-fashioned girls like to fuck."

Missy raises a leg, lets the Doctor slide the pantaloons off one leg at a time. He hoists her to the wall and buries himself inside her.

"They should have left the handcuffs on me." Missy sighs. "It would have been ever so much more fun."

"Plenty of time for that later." The pleasure of cock in cunt, so familiar; but someone else's double heartbeat thrumming at his chest, that the Doctor hasn't felt in over a thousand years.

"Promises, promises," Missy says, drawing nails up the Doctor's back. "Let me show you the way home, and maybe I'll let you tie me to the bed. After I'm done doing the same to you."

"Missy," the Doctor says, and he can see his own harsh smile reflected in her eyes. "I know the way home. I've worked it out myself. If I bring you, it's because I want to, not because I have to."

"And?" Missy's heels dig into the Doctor's arse, and her breath grows ragged.

The Doctor speeds up, his face close enough to Missy to kiss her again, but instead he slides his lips to her cheek, keeps her on the edge. "Do you know what Clara said to me once? Before I knew you were back?"

"Why on earth should I care what one of your little apes says to you?"

"She said that she never wanted to be the last of her kind."

Missy's eyes narrow, and she tosses her head back before smiling. "Then she doesn't understand us, does she?"

"No," the Doctor says, "she doesn't understand us at all."

* * *


When UNIT turns the cameras back on, there is no Missy, no Doctor, no TARDIS.

"Should I sound the alarm, ma'am?" asks a soldier.

"No," Kate says. "If and when they come back, we'll know."
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