MUTUAL
by Cinco
Disclaimer: the BBC owns Doctor Who. I'm only borrowing him long enough to share this story.
The 7th Doctor and his companion Claire have to free themselves from some unusual restraints.
NC-17 rating
****
The cell was dimly lit, small and cool. Claire shifted on her bottom and sighed as she announced: "We're trapped."
"That's rather obvious. You didn't think the Matrix would just let us go, did you?"
"Well, I'd *hoped* that since they didnt' kill us outright that maybe they would." She looked at the man sitting next to her. His linen suit was still tidy, his fedora jammed on his unruly dark hair.
"That," said the Doctor indulgently, "is what I love about you, Claire. Your boundless optimism. Your faith in others."
"Which isn't doing us any good at the moment since we've both been chained to the wall here. What are these leg irons made of anyway, some weird metal alloy?"
"Worse. A bio-neural link. Our minds have become our jailers. As long as we think, we complete the circuit that keeps the shackles closed," the Doctor muttered as he stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles.
"As long as we think? What if we clear out minds completely?" Claire demanded.
The Doctor looked over at her and frowned. "Electrical activity goes on in the brain all the time. The only way it ceases is--"
"--at death. Thanks, that's such a cheery thought in itself. You *can* get us out of these, right?" Claire asked. He made an impatient gesture as someone entered the cell.
The member of the Matrix looked from one to the other as he spoke. "Doctor. Miss Daniels. I'm sorry our brief encounter has to end this way. We of the Matrix are determined to fight the Movellans regardless of your efforts for peace. In deference to your intelligence, we thought it would be fitting to use it as your restraining system."
"Very *thoughtful* of you." The Doctor harrumphed, unable to resist the pun. The Matrixian frowned.
"Humor in the face of death. Some aspects of humanity are still incomprehensible to us even after all this time. Farewell."
"You're just going to leave us here to die?" Claire burst out angrily.
The Matrixian looked at her carefully. "Think of a way to overcome a bio-neural link, Miss Daniels. That will be the true test of your intelligence." With that, he left.
An hour later, Claire shifted again on the cool stone floor and sighed. She'd stayed quiet, hoping the Doctor would come up with something, but he seemed to have fallen asleep instead. She looked down at her legs. They were long, tanned, and nicely muscled in the dim daylight that was filtering from the high windows above them. The manacles around each ankle hummed very faintly, sounding like a bee caught in heavy layers of cotton. A light gold chain connected to each ankle gave her about a yard of free movement in any direction from the wall behind her. She leaned down and touched the nearest restraint, feeling a slight tingle on her fingertips. "Bio-neural link. My brain's electircal field is fueling this thing. How do I turn off my brain?" she mused.
"You can't. On the other hand, a neural overload would probably fry out the delicate circuitry in the manacles," the Doctor told her, his eyes still closed. "What constitutes a neural overload?"
Claire thought. "Well, let's see--excess stimulation of any sort--drugs, extreme fright--"
--orgasm," he announced quietly.
Claire blushed hotly to the roots of her hair. she peeked over at him. The Doctor had his hat tipped over his face. The pause between them dragged on and on. She tried to keep her voice from quavering as she asked, Orgasm?"
"An overload of sexual stimulation resulting in a tremendous electrical surge through the synapses of the brain. One to three seconds of overwhelming pleasure saturating everything from the brainstem to the cemebrum. Wonderful failsafe for insuring the propagation of a species."
"Nature's best incentive," Claire mused. There was another long silence as each of them harbored their own thoughts. Finally Claire spoke up. "No sonic screwdriver?"
"Even if I had one, which I do not, I wouldn't want to risk a feedback surge for either of us. Could mean permanent brain damage." The Doctor pushed his hat back off his face and sat up.
"Given that choice, I'll take the orgasm, thank you," she snapped.
The Doctor opened his eyes and smiled a very gentle smile. "Bravely spoken, Claire. And how do you suggest we proceed?"
She blushed again, but he didn't let her off the hook, and rambled on, almost as much to himself as to her. "Not to be tactless or crude, but I see a limited number of options for the two of us. We could each masturbate, we could masturbate each other, or we could have sex with each other."
"Christ, Doctor! do you have to make it all sound like a math problem!?" Claire hissed.
He sighed. "No. But I thought it might be easier to choose if we kept it on an impersonal level."
"We're talking about sex--probably *the* most personal topic that a man and a woman can discuss," Claire snapped back. And I don't know about Time Lords, but humans have a lot of difficulty conversing on the matter."
"It's worse for Time Lords," the Doctor muttered. "Most have never had it, and the few that have are not forthcoming with practical information. Lots of theory, very little practice."
"Well, geez, where do baby Time Lords come from? The stork of Rassilon?" Claire turned to look at him again and to her astonishment, he was pink around the ears and cheeks.
"No, the Genetic Materials Databank," came his soft reply. "Very scientific, very controlled, very sterile."
"Which also means--" it dawned on her suddenly, "--that you don't have a lot of experience, sexually speaking."
"I resent that. I haven't had a lot of *practice*," he growled back. "Please don't lump me in the same category as that desiccated bunch back on Gallifrey, thank you very much."
"So you're not quite a virgin--" Claire mused. "Calm down--I don't wan t to spend any more time here than we have to. We'll work this out. Take my hand."
The Doctor found himself in the highly unusual postion of defering to a greater authority as Claire shifted closer to him. She took his hand, and held it, squeezed it reassuringly in hers. His fingers were cool, his grip strong.
"I guess we're going to have to do some talking. Ever been seduced?"
The Doctor gave a wistful grin, relaxing a bit under her gentle approach. "Once."
"And?"
"She stayed behind in E-space."
"Oooh, sorry about that."
"Took the dog, too," he responded with a wry twist to his smile.
Claire plunged on. "Ever seduce anyone yourself?"
"Playing Twenty Questions, are we? When do I get a turn, Claire?"
"More like Truth or Forfeit," she replied.
"Don't you mean Truth or Dare?"
"Not much to dare, right now, is there? We'll just--forfeit--things. It's now your turn-shoot." She invited his questions with a little lift of her shoulders.
He glanced down at their joined hands. "Why are you traveling with me?" he asked.
She didn't hesitate. "You asked me to come along at the right time."
"Is that the only reason?" She paused, and the Doctor pushed her a bit, a small smile crossing his face once more as he drew her name out. "Cllaairre?"
"No."
"What's the other reason?"
"You're . . . cute."
He was flabbergasted; of all the answers he'd thought she'd give, cute was not one of them. He stared at her. "Cute?" His voice seemed to cut through her embarrassment; she lifted her chin defiantly and met his gaze.
"Cute. I love the way your hair won't stay brushed, and the way you juggle and play spoons and make little kids everywhere laugh. You've got gorgeous eyes and sometimes you have this wicked little smile that makes my toes curl, okay?"
She was the one blushing now. The Doctor grinned, enjoying himself hugely. "Cute?" he repeated. "Millions of perfectly good adjectives out there in thousands of languages and she chooses cute."
"My turn," Claire impatiently interrupted. "If you can stop talking about yourself for a minute."
He gave a last mock-despairing shake of his head and looked at her again. She glanced up at the ceiling.
"Have you ever seduced anyone?"
"Hmmmmm. I refuse to answer for discretionary reasons," he answered primly.
"Forfeit something, then," Claire told him. "Rules of the game. Let's see--hat."
"And so it begins," he intoned, taking it from his head and dropping it into her lap. "I *do* want that back, you know."
"Next question." She grinned. "How old were you when you lost your virginity?"
There was another pause. Claire thought he was embarrassed again, but he was concentrating on counting the fingers of his free hand instead. "Two hundred and fifteen," he finally announced. "I was always precocious." Claire gave his hand another squeeze and silently giggled. "It was no laughing matter." The Doctor scolded, arching an eyebrow at her. Claire took a deep breath and gently toyed with the hat on her lap as he continued. "I believe it's my turn again. Let's see . . . what is the most exotic location that you've ever--"
"--done the mattress tango?" she supplied helpfully.
This time the Doctor was the one to roll his eyes to the ceiling. "I'll never understand the amazing capacity humans have for euphemisms. Mattress tango, Beast with two backs, get a leg over--"
"--snog, shag, screw, roger, hump, ride the pink dragon, vertical two-step, rumpy pumpy, bang, hide the salami--" Claire mused, her grip on his hand tightening as she laughed again. "--hop the love train, tumble, roll in the hay--we're pretty good at re-naming the oldest sport, aren't we?"
"There's no *we* about it--*you're* the sexual thesaurus here." The Doctor grumbled for a moment. "*And * you're avoiding the question, I might point out."
"I plead the Fifth." She smiled mischievously. "Strongly."
"Forfeit."
"What do you want?"
"I suppose the hat's out--all right then, I'll settle for the sandals."
"They won't fit you." Claire kicked them off and tossed them over to the Doctor, who lined them up neatly next to the wall.
"I don't plan on wearing them."
"Moving right along--" she broke in, "--where do you like to be kissed?"
"Tricky point.--where on my person or where in the universe?" The Doctor teased. "You need to narrow your field of inquiry, Claire."
"Playing hard to get," she grumbled. "You know darn well I meant where on your person."
The Doctor thought for a moment, then puffed out his cheeks in concentration. Claire thought he resembled an absent-minded squirrel. After a moment, he tugged her onto his lap. She'd been here once or twice before; it was a safe comfortable place. "Are you familiar with that little connective stretch of skin inside your mouth that joins your upper lip to your top gumline? Just under the filtrum? Put your thumb inside your upper lip and pull--you'll feel the one I mean."
Amused, Claire did as he directed, then dropped her fingers from her lip. "You like to be kissed there?"
"No. That's the only place I can think of that I probably don't like to be kissed."
"That's one of the few places I would never *think* of trying to kiss, although I could give it a shot."
"Hmmm. Perhaps you should. Could turn out to be a major Time Lord erogenous--." His train of thought was derailed as Claire took his face in her hands and kissed him.
It was a deliciously good kiss; despite being taken by surprise, the Doctor took control of Claire's mouth, redirecting her rushed encounter into something far more sensual.
"MMMmmmmmMMmmmMM." Claire pulled away for a breath, feeling flushed and foolish. "My God, where did you learn to kiss like *that*?!"
The Doctor gave her a sleepy, innocent smile that wouldn't have fooled a blind man. "As you pointed out, Claire, I *do* have the basics down."
"That kiss was *not* basic. You've been holding out on me."
"Would I do that?"
"Yes," she grumbled, "You would."
"Tush. We're both a long way from overloading our electrical synapses," he reminded her. He shifted her weight on his lap, pulling her head down to his shoulder.
"Yeah? Keep kissing me like that and we've found the short cut to Grandma's house, Wolfie."
"I approve of shortcuts," he muttered briefly as he lifted her chin and brought her mouth to his again. And again. Claire responded slowly at first but within a minute her arms encircled his neck and she met his tongue with her own.
After a while of fevered kisses, she pulled back and studied him. His eyes were closed; a thin film of perspiration shone above his upper lip.
"Are you doing okay?" she whispered.
"Marrvelously so, Glorriously so," he rolled out, his accent thicker than before. Claire felt a giggle rise out of her and squirmed. He grunted.
"Oof! Have a care--" he warned her lightly.
"Ha." She rose and re-settled herslef on his lap, putting her weight on her knees on either side of his hips. The chains clinked on the stone floor as she moved. The Doctor gave a sigh and let his hands rest on her waist.
"I'm frightfully sorry--are we stilll playing Truth or Forfeit?"
"Ummm-- I think so, but it's looking more like baseball all the time."
"Baseball?" His dark eyes twinkled.
"Well, we're on first, heading to second base if you catch my drift--" Claire lazily told him.
He nodded. "American amorous analogy. What does it take to get to second base?"
"This." Claire took his left hand and placed it on the round fullness of her breast. Experimentally he flexed his fingers, dancing them over the thin fabric of her pink cotton t-shirt. Claire twitched, biting her lower lip.
"Ah. Topical exploration. Contour contact. The skin test, so to speak."
"Be kind, Time Lord," Claire warned. "I don't let just *anybody* grope me, you know."
"I know," he told her softly, an understanding smile flashing across his face. "Give me a moment while I savor the honor. It hasn't escaped my notice that yours is an outstandingly feminine and attractive physique." He slid the other hand over the other breast, tracing circles with each fingertip. "Cold?"
She was shivering.
"Aroused."
"So I see--" he announced happily.
"Just consider those perks for doing things right, okay?" Claire added. The Doctor laughed and Claire reached out to his vest, tugging on it. "Good for the goose, good for the gander--come on, Doctor, I get to do some tickling too." There was a hint of pleading in her voice that stopped him from objecting; he neatly took off his jacket and slowly peeled the question mark pullover vest over his head.
"Just as well--it was getting--warm," he grumbled.
Claire let her hands pluck open his shirt buttons while ignoring his comment. "Hey, you've got a furry chest."
The Doctor glanced down. "Came with the regeneration."
"I *like* it."
"Ow! Yes, I figured that out--Nails, Claire, Nails--that hurts--" He grabbed her wrists and frowned.
"Sorry. Let me kiss it and make it better." He let go of her hands and she tugged his shirt open. At the same time, he gripped her T-shirt in large handfuls, tugging it out of her skirt waistband. Claire gently helped him pull it off over her head.
He blinked. It was one of the few times Claire had seen him visibly startled.
"You're not wearing . . ."
"Nope. Usually don't."
As she made a soft trail with her lips and tongue down the side of his throat down to the middle of his fuzzy chest he made a strange noise, something between a purr and a gurgle. "When the cat's away, the mice rearrange the furniture . . . people in glass houses use a lot of sunscreen . . . An apple a day keeps the apple sellers busy--" the Doctor chanted almost desperately. "Time and tide both start with a T--"
"What?" Claire said as suddenly he relaxed, dropping his head back against the stone wall behind them and drawing his knees up. That simple move forced Claire up against him, bare chest to bare chest. He wrapped his arms around her.
"I think, my dear, that one of the reasons Timelords avoid sexual excitement is directly related to our coronary systems. Two hearts are effective, as long as they stay in a syncopated rhythm." His hands began to stroke her bare spine. "But once they fall into an uncoordinated pattern, it's hard to enjoy much of anything ."
"Are you okay now?" "Perfectly. It was a mamentary, Ahem! momentary twinge."
"You're not going to have heart attacks and die on me, are you?" Claire spoke into his face, her expression vacillating between pleasure at his touch and concern over his words. He kissed her chin, her nose and then her mouth before answering.
"Died and gone to heaven? Only figuratively this time. The Doctor assured her. "Cross my hearts."
Claire grinned and wriggled a bit again, the chains clinking as he did so. "Hey! Is that a Dalek probe or are you just happy to see me?"
He groaned, but Claire couldn't tell if it was with pleasure or annoyance until he slipped his hands under her skirt, gripped her buttocks and deftly squeezed them.
"Shameless hussy--and I'll thank you to keep Daleks out of the conversation unless you want me to start shouting 'Cop-u-late' in a reedy mechanical voice."
"Oooh. Sounds like phone sex on Skaro--" She never got the chance to finsih her comment; the Dcotor was nibbling her ear and fondling her derriere in a way that left her speechless. His warm breath tickled her ear and sent chills down her spine.
"Enough talk for a while."
It wasn't a request, and Claire nodded dumbly. She let her hands travel across his chest and shoulders. The two prisoners touched and caressed, drifting from one deep kiss to another in an ever quickning pace. The light from the windows had faded into a soft blue twilight when Claire rose up on her knees, giving a frustrated little whimper. "If we don't get to third base pretty quickly I'm going to go out of my mind, Doctor!"
"I Thought that was the goal--" despite the lightness of his words, there was a strained husky note in his voice. "Out of our minds to get out of our chains?"
"Yes, but--"
"Good point."
"No, you're the one with the good point!" Claire reached down and ran a hand over the clearly defined ridge straining against the Doctor's linen trousers.
"Rrrright. " She could hear him trying to think clearly and it made her grin; even a Time Lord wasn't immune to the fog that good old fashioned lust could create. His hands slid up her legs and under her skirt once again. This time his fingers glided over her hips to the waistband of her panties and tugged, tentatively. Claire reached to help him. After a moment of struggle she laughed, although it was tinged with frustration. "Houston, we have a problem."
With one knee on either side of his hips, Claire wasn't going to be able to discard her lingerie quite so easily. The Doctor raised her skirt in the near darkness and tried to examine the taut underwear stretched across his waist.
"Hmmmmm."
Calmly he seized the edges of the left leg hole and firmly yanked his two hands apart. The panties tore, fluttering away from Claire's left thigh and sliding down her right one to rest in a silky pile on the back of her knee. She clapped softly, applauding him, but he shook his head.
"Take a note, Miss Daniels, I owe you a pair of knickers."
"Noted. I don't suppose there are any Victoria's Secrets in space?"
"Not that I've been looking, mind you, but there's a shop or two on Bildinare that could make Mata Hari blush," the Doctor told her. "Ahem. Claire, there's something I need to ask you, but I can't remember quite what it is--"
"Will I respect you in the morning?" Her hands began to unzip his fly.
"I doubt it--no, that's not it--"
"Will my husband or father or brother kill you for doing this with me?"
"No, that's not it either--" His voice grew alarmed. "Hold on a minute--"
"Don't have a husband, my father's dead and my brother's gay," Claire announced, sending a warm hand deep into the Doctor's trousers. He grabbed her wrist just as she touched him; her mouth made a little 'O' of delighted surprise.
"I remember what it was!" he desperately demanded, "This is important! Are you on, or using any--"
"Oh, that! Yes, I am. Impregnable, Inconceiveable, unbearable," she replied, rather breathlessly. "I may not always be a good girl, but I'm a careful one."
The heartfelt sigh of relief the Doctor chuffed out was replaced by an 'Errk' as Claire triumphantly managed to tug his trousers down. "Claire--"
"Whoa!"
Her hands caressed him, and he groaned.
"Let's just skip third and head for home," she begged in an awed whisper. "Oh, please?"
He reached for her, gripping her hips. She wrapped her hands around him, guiding him gently until he touched the cleft in the gossamer fur between her thighs. The Doctor raised his dark eyes to her, waiting. She nodded.
He thrust up. She gasped as if all the air hand been pushed out of her lungs. From that moment, it was a tangled feverish kaleidescope of sensory experiences: the cold floor scraping on her knees and shins; the chinkling rattle of the chains; the searing sweetness of the Doctor's mouth kissing her everywhere all at once; the sound of moans and gasps escaping from her own throat; and driving it all, the relentless throbbing stroke gliding between her damp thighs.
She thought he was beautiful in his own way, Pan-like with that dark tousled hair and those deep eyes. She clutched his shoulders, bucking with him, feeling herself about to fall over the edge . . .
'YesssgooodgirrrrrldarrrrlingClairrre,' she heard from a million miles away. Claire stiffened and then slumped against him just as he growled something else, mysterious and erotic words in a strange language in her ear. The Doctor gave a harsh gasp and she felt him come within her in three boiling surges, flooding her.
After a few stunned moments, he relaxed his hands from her hips and let them wander up to her neck and shoulders, touching as if he needed the contact to assure himself that she really was there.
"Oh . . ." she managed to say around his fingers when he touched her kips. "Oh, damn, you're good . . ."
"Claire. Darling Claire." She could hear the smile in his voice; it was too dark to see it. He pulled her head down and kissed the top of it in a gentle benediction and they simply stayed cuddled together for a while. She let her hand drop to her ankle and laughed happily.
"We did it! The damned things are off!"
"Success through sex. If only more villains would set up traps of this sort I could *really* enjoy being a hero," he mused.
"How utterly noble of you--" she teased. "Out there screwing away for the good of the universe."
"I've already been accused of screwing it up more than once." the Doctor grumbled good-naturedly. "And this is infinitely more fun that being chased by monsters or foiling evil plots."
"Ohh, infinitely." Claire agreed. "You know, Doctor dear, I had no idea Time Lords were so--ah--endowed."
"Yes, well--that's the other reason for two hearts, or so the story goes." She could tell even in the dark that he was blushing. "Back before Rassilon's time they were a lusty lot on Gallifrey, shagging Shobogan maidens right and left."
"Throwback."
"Ha! This coming from the rogering rodeo queen here--"
After a while they rose to their feet, stiffly, and hunted for various articles of clothing. Claire pulled her T-shirt on, shuffled into her sandals and picked up her torn panties. The Doctor took them from her, jauntily stuffing them into his pocket. He then buttoned his shirt, stuffed the tails of it into his re-zipped trousers, pulled on his vest and jammed his hat back on his head.
"Cold?" Without waiting for a reply, he draped his coat over Claire's shoulders. She took it gratefully and followed him out the door of the cell. The passed through the corridors of the abandoned Matrixian station in silence until they reached the hallway where the TARDIS stood waiting. The Doctor pulled out the key, put it in the lock and paused. Still facing the door he spoke very softly to the woman standing behind him.
"If you want to go home, just say the word, Claire. I'll understand."
"Do you want me to go?" she asked kindly.
"In a word?" He turned the key with a soft 'click'. "No."
"Do you want to go back to just being friends?"
It was an agonizing pause; Claire could see the tension flexing through his shoulders. She bit her lip, determined not to cry no matter what his answer was.
"I don't think, " he finally admitted, "*I* could."
He turned around and his expression was woebegone and ancient and sad and chagrined all at once. But it was the newly awakened longing in his eyes that broke her; Claire stepped into his embrace, fiercely blinking away the tears from her lashes.
"There are thousands or reasons why this probably won't work, Claire--I'm ancient and set in my ways, and I'll always be dragging you into danger and forgetting to give you any affection when you need it the most--" he anxiously muttered into her hair. She hugged him back.
"Time Lord, there is so little love sometimes in this great big universe . . . let's just hold onto what we have for the moment. That's all I want. Besides--" She raised her face, smiling up at him. "We've got a war to stop, and underwear to buy, and if you think for a moment that I'm letting you get away with skipping third base next time, think aga--"
He cut her off with a kiss, leaning the two of them back against the Tardis door. He'd forgotten that it was unlocked, and the two of them fell in to the doorway in a jumbled heap. Laughter echoed out and within minutes, the light on the top spun merrily as the police box faded from sight.
END
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