ext_11928 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
drakyndra.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2006-10-31 10:21 am
drakyndra.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2006-10-31 10:21 am
Entry tags:
Self Control by UKtechgirl (R)
Fandom: DOCTOR WHO
Pairing: Fifth Doctor/Turlough (And Theta/Koschei)
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
uktechgirl
Author Website: Doctor Who fic in memories
Why this must be read:
When it comes to Old School Whofic, one of the more popular slash pairings is Turlough/Fifth Doctor. (Actually, the Fifth Doctor seems to get a lot of fic of all sorts - he has a lot of fans amongst the fic writing crowd). And as such, some very, very good fics can be found, exploring both these two characters, and the Doctor in his entirety.
I really like this fic for the way it manages to start out as a rather farcical humour fic, in which the Doctor and Turlough are trying to add a little kink to their sex life, but part way through becomes something else entirely - a look at the hugely twisted and dark relationship dynamic that existed between two young Prydonian students who would one day become rather bitter enemies. Humour, smut, and some nasty psychological games, what isn't to love?
Turlough was drinking tea in the TARDIS scullery when it began, three days later.
One moment he was quietly sipping a cup of the finest Ceylon, made by Taylors of Harrogate. The next he was plunged into darkness. Something – a bag of some kind of soft, warm material – had been pulled over his head. He struggled, putting his hands up to claw the cloth away from his face, but the strings at the opening of the bag were pulled tight against his throat, keeping it in place and making him gasp for breath. Then there was a hand on the back of his head, pushing him forwards and pressing his face against the table. He could feel spilt tea soaking through the bag, as his hands were pulled behind him. More of that soft material – velvet, was it? – was looped around his wrists, tugging them together, tying them tight.
Through it all, he could hear soft, slightly too-quick breathing, and the off-kilter thudding of two heartbeats, fuelled by adrenaline.
Under the cover of the cloth, he smiled, and wriggled dutifully against his bonds.
‘Sorry,’ whispered a voice in his ear. ‘Are you all right?’
Which ever so slightly killed the mood.
Self Control
Pairing: Fifth Doctor/Turlough (And Theta/Koschei)
Author on LJ:
uktechgirlAuthor Website: Doctor Who fic in memories
Why this must be read:
When it comes to Old School Whofic, one of the more popular slash pairings is Turlough/Fifth Doctor. (Actually, the Fifth Doctor seems to get a lot of fic of all sorts - he has a lot of fans amongst the fic writing crowd). And as such, some very, very good fics can be found, exploring both these two characters, and the Doctor in his entirety.
I really like this fic for the way it manages to start out as a rather farcical humour fic, in which the Doctor and Turlough are trying to add a little kink to their sex life, but part way through becomes something else entirely - a look at the hugely twisted and dark relationship dynamic that existed between two young Prydonian students who would one day become rather bitter enemies. Humour, smut, and some nasty psychological games, what isn't to love?
Turlough was drinking tea in the TARDIS scullery when it began, three days later.
One moment he was quietly sipping a cup of the finest Ceylon, made by Taylors of Harrogate. The next he was plunged into darkness. Something – a bag of some kind of soft, warm material – had been pulled over his head. He struggled, putting his hands up to claw the cloth away from his face, but the strings at the opening of the bag were pulled tight against his throat, keeping it in place and making him gasp for breath. Then there was a hand on the back of his head, pushing him forwards and pressing his face against the table. He could feel spilt tea soaking through the bag, as his hands were pulled behind him. More of that soft material – velvet, was it? – was looped around his wrists, tugging them together, tying them tight.
Through it all, he could hear soft, slightly too-quick breathing, and the off-kilter thudding of two heartbeats, fuelled by adrenaline.
Under the cover of the cloth, he smiled, and wriggled dutifully against his bonds.
‘Sorry,’ whispered a voice in his ear. ‘Are you all right?’
Which ever so slightly killed the mood.
Self Control