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The Doctor was leading them through the well-planned streets of Xanatar, eagerly popping into half the shops the group ran across “just to check it out.” She bought something from everywhere.
Ryan was taking it all in. It felt so like Earth, but there were some very notable differences. The sky, for example, was purple, and darker than he expected for a clear afternoon. An unfamiliar scent lingered in the air, indescribable and easy to forget. He needed this, a proper vacation after all the crazy adventures they’d been on recently.
Usually, on overnight trips, the fam all slept in the TARDIS, but as this was indeed a vacation, they agreed to a night at a hotel. So, once the Doctor’s arms were too full to carry anything else, she led them to a towering marble-white building.
“I’d like four rooms, please,” she said to the green lady behind the counter.
“That would be 2,000 credits.”
“Err…” the Doctor replied, glancing back at Ryan, Graham, and Yaz, “make that two rooms. And I’ve got a discount.” She pulled the psychic paper from a pocket and presented it to the clerk.
“Oh, wonderful. That will bring you down to 900 credits,” she said with a smile.
The Doctor turned to face her crew. “Sorry, fam, I’m a bit short on cash,” she said with a scrunched nose, her hands in her coat pockets reaching forward as if to display empty handedness. In reality, Ryan had no idea what else she kept in there.
Rooms sorted, they all went upstairs to drop off their recent purchases and met up again in the lobby for dinner.
“Do they have dumplings here? I could really go for some dumplings right about now,” Graham asked.
“Sure, loads of dumplings. Don’t know what’s in them, but I’m sure they’re great,” said the Doctor.
Then Ryan, “Anything that tastes like chicken?”
“Why not. There’s something like chickens on this planet somewhere.”
“Sounds appetizing,” said Yaz.
Ryan sighed after stuffing his sixteenth almost-chicken dumpling into his mouth, washing it down with some alien wine. “This has been a real treat,” he said. They’d already paid their tab and were basking in each other’s relaxed company.
“I’m glad!” said the Doctor with a huge smile.
“Couldn’t agree more. What’s for dessert?” asked Graham.
“Actually,” Yaz now spoke, “I think I’ll call it a night. Head back to the hotel for some tea.”
“Oh, tea with Yaz! I always love tea with Yaz,” said the Doctor. “Mind if I join you?”
“’Course not,” said Yaz.
“Well, I’m not ready to turn in yet. Still got some exploring to do,” said Graham.
“Same for me,” said Ryan, “I want to see if I can find some ice cream.”
The Doctor looked conflicted for a moment, weighing the risk of letting Graham and Ryan wander off alone. But she soon gave in, handing over a silvery metal rectangle.
“Here you go boys, off you pop. Don’t spend it all in one place!” she instructed.
Before Ryan could ask how to spend any of it, the Doctor and Yaz were already leaving.
“Grandad,” he said, “do you think they…”
“What, Yaz and the Doc? I know Yaz has been pining for ages, but I don’t think the Doc could ever open up to anyone enough,” was Graham’s response.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” said Ryan, trying not to think about it anymore.
Though it did intrigue him to discover that the metal rectangle had access to unlimited credits when he paid for what was close enough to strawberry ice cream.
The Doctor and Yaz sat facing each other on opposite beds, sipping chamomile tea. Yaz thought she could feel the Doctor’s gaze bearing down on her, but every time she looked up, the Doctor was staring deeply into her tea. Her fingers idly drummed on the cup, mesmerizing Yaz.
“Chamomile is my favorite bedtime bev,” said the Doctor. “Gives me good dreams.”
“What do you dream about?”
“Adventures, mostly. Ones with happy endings.” Though she seemed to be in a good mood, there was something somber about the way the Doctor spoke.
Their eyes finally met. Yaz felt something swell in her stomach and tried to push it back down. The Doctor studied her face, and Yaz studied hers right back. Her expression was undecipherable. Her chain earring dangled with every slight movement. Yaz’s eyes returned to the never-still fingers still rhythmically hitting the teacup.
“Come here,” said the Doctor, reaching into her pocket.
Yaz obliged, moving to sit next to the Doctor on her bed.
The Doctor’s hand reached up, holding a napkin. “You have something on your face,” she said, and wiped clean the corner of Yaz’s mouth. Maybe it was Yaz’s imagination, but her hand seemed to linger a moment longer than necessary.
They locked eyes again, this time Yaz’s hope meeting something more sorrowful.
“I don’t know how to do this,” the Doctor said, after a moment.
“Do what?” asked Yaz.
“Enjoy these moments.”
Yaz waited for the Doctor to elaborate, but there were no more words, for once. Yaz felt a challenge rising in her chest, as she stared at the ground. Before she could stop herself,
“Why did you come up for tea with me, instead of going for ice cream?”
“I thought Graham and Ryan could use some family time. They don’t get much of it, those two,” said the Doctor.
Yaz hid her disappointment and pressed on, “No other reason?”
“Well,” said the Doctor, “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love my Yaz time.”
The smile was back on her face. Yaz felt that something swelling up again. It almost sounded like a confession.
“I like spending time with you, too,” she said.
The Doctor got up, took Yaz’s empty teacup, and set both of theirs down on the desk nearby. When she sat back down, she took Yaz’s hand.
“I have a hard time opening up,” said the Doctor, “because there’s been so much pain in my life. It’s hard to talk about, hard to share. And if I tell you, it’ll make it that much harder to lose you, too.”
Yaz wanted to tell the Doctor that they wouldn’t lose each other, but she knew deep down it wasn’t true. The Doctor’s life would stretch on infinitely once Yaz was gone. But Yaz was here now, wasn’t that enough?
As though she could read her thoughts, the Doctor continued, “But I’m trying hard to live in the moment. Don’t want that bogging me down.”
Yaz felt the grip on her hand tighten.
“No, we don’t want that,” she said.
“I want to let you in,” said the Doctor, almost pleading, her face so close to Yaz’s, her eyes unwavering.
“I want that, too,” said Yaz. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Was this just another daydream? But the grip on her hand was so tight, and she felt herself leaning in towards something warmer than her imagination.
The Doctor let go of Yaz’s hand and rested it on her cheek instead. They sat there for a moment, tension building in the air.
“Sorry, have I misinterpreted this?” the Doctor asked, breaking the silence.
“What?” Yaz asked back.
“I’m not still not great with social cues, but I thought, well, you…” she trailed off, “I thought you might be interested in some custard creams!”
She jumped up again, quite suddenly, almost knocking Yaz over.
“Oi!”
“Oh, sorry. But I’ve got them here, somewhere!”
The Doctor frantically searched through her belongings, flinging her coat off in the process. Yaz gulped. She always enjoyed seeing the Doctor with one less layer.
“Here they are!” the Doctor finally exclaimed. She placed a biscuit into Yaz’s mouth, which she hadn’t realized was open until that point.
Yaz still didn’t know what to think. She ate slowly so she could ponder. Of course, she liked the Doctor. Might even love her. But the Doctor was just so clueless sometimes. Surely, Yaz’s feelings weren’t reciprocated. Not by someone who, as recently discussed, was so ancient and weary.
“Do you like it?” asked the Doctor, after swallowing her third.
“Yeah, it’s great,” said Yaz. The question shook her from her thoughts.
“I used to have a thing for jammy dodgers,” she said, “a few faces ago. Man one, as you might guess. I think these are better, though. Creamier.” The Doctor ate another biscuit.
Yaz stared as she licked her fingers clean.
The Doctor noticed.
“You can have another, if you want,” she said.
Yaz opened her mouth, awaiting the treat. This time the delivery was slow and deliberate. The Doctor’s hand lingered again, this time unmistakably. Before she could stop herself, Yaz closed her mouth around her fingers. The Doctor let her, eyes growing wide. Yaz’s tongue moved, brushing a finger as she brought the biscuit further into her mouth. The Doctor finally pulled her hand away so Yaz could chew. It’s hard to mistake someone else’s fingers in her mouth for meaning anything else, but Yaz still couldn’t bring herself to feel so hopeful.
Until the Doctor, still standing, surged forward to kiss Yaz. The momentum threw Yaz onto her back, and she kissed back. The Doctor tasted like chamomile tea and custard creams, but so must have Yaz, she thought.
The pressure of their lips soon gave way to tongues, scraping along teeth, and teeth, biting at lips. The Doctor caught Yaz’s bottom lip in the gentlest nibble, and Yaz felt a soft moan escape her.
The Doctor pulled back, Yaz chasing. “Is that alright?” she asked.
“Yes, yes,” said Yaz, “it’s so alright. Better than alright.”
The Doctor grinned and leaned over to kiss Yaz again, this time climbing onto the bed so that she was straddling her. Yaz reached up, ran her hands along the Doctor’s back until they landed in her hair, scrunching into her scalp. She could barely breathe, from the buzz running through her body and from the Doctor’s tongue searching her whole mouth. She began to squirm.
The Doctor started to pull away again, but Yaz kept her grip in her hair, not letting her get too far.
“Yaz,” she whispered.
“Doctor,” Yaz whispered back, “I want you.”
“Okay,” she said, “but I think we could both be a bit more comfortable.”
Yaz laughed and scooted herself so that she was laying with her head on the pillows, rather than with her legs dangling off the side of the bed. The Doctor remained standing for a moment, sliding her suspenders off her shoulders. Yaz hoped for more, but the Doctor stopped there and crawled over to Yaz instead.
Eyes locked, the Doctor reached slowly to the hem of Yaz’s shirt and began to lift it up. Yaz felt frozen by her gaze, but managed to sit up so that the Doctor could finish the job. Her eyes wandered, first to her breasts, still in a bra, then down Yaz’s belly. There was nothing but awe in her eyes. Yaz reached over to try to remove the Doctor’s shirt, but a hand stopped her.
“Not yet,” was all she said.
Yaz frowned but accepted it.
They began kissing again, heat surging through Yaz’s body. The Doctor’s mouth soon left her own, traveling along her jaw, down her neck, settling on her pulse point, teeth gently grazing her skin. She shuddered at the sensation. One of her hands found the Doctor’s hair again, the other fiddled with the hem of her shirt.
The Doctor continued with the determination Yaz had seen before on Yaz’s neck, sucking and even biting at times in the same spot. Yaz wondered, as she scratched the Doctor’s scalp, if the boys would say anything about it tomorrow, but she was enjoying it far too much to stop. A groan coming from the Doctor all but sealed the deal. Yaz’s breathing picked up, wanting more, but not wanting to push things too far, lest she push the Doctor away.
She came up for air at last, shifting her weight onto one arm so she could stroke Yaz’s face and hair. Yaz closed her eyes and the Doctor ran her thumb over Yaz’s mouth, pulling her bottom lip open.
“You still doing alright?” she asked.
Yaz opened her eyes to answer, “Yeah. Better than alright, even.”
“Good,” said the Doctor, leaning down for another deep but all-too-short kiss. “You want me to take my shirt off?”
Yaz just stared up at her. Of course, she wanted it, but she still wasn’t sure how this was really happening, and it seemed to conflict with her earlier protest.
“Yeah,” she managed to say.
Wordlessly, nervously, the Doctor pulled off her own shirts and tossed them aside. Yaz gasped as she realized the other woman was not, in fact, wearing a bra, and wondered if she ever did. Questions for later, after, she decided.
The Doctor grinned. “You like them? Still a bit new for me, having breasts, but I do think it’s nice. Suits me, at least.”
“Um, yeah,” said Yaz, working really hard to process what the Doctor was saying while shamelessly ogling her. They were nice tits, and they did suit her well. Round, soft, pale. Yaz reached up to touch one and heard a soft gasp as her fingers made contact. She cupped it, not daring to look away, and brushed her thumb over an already hard nipple. Another gasp as the Doctor began to squirm on top of her.
“Sorry,” said Yaz, “not every day you get to see something so beautiful.”
The Doctor blushed, letting a soft “thanks” pass her lips.
The attention seemed to make her uncomfortable, so Yaz pulled her hand away.
“Alright, I suppose you want a turn then,” she said, noting the Doctor’s eager nod. Yaz sat up and began to undo the clasps her back only to find the Doctor’s arms suddenly around her and doing the work herself.
“At your service,” she said.
Bra removed, now Yaz was blushing as the Doctor took her in. She pushed Yaz back down onto the bed, this time one hand pinching and squeezing her nipple as they kissed. Yaz’s hips began to jerk as all of the sensations kept building. The Doctor took this as a sign to keep going and kissed her way down the other side of her face to Yaz’s unoccupied breast. Her hot mouth made Yaz grip into her back. The Doctor took the nipple into her mouth, and one little nibble made Yaz squeak. It was all so much for her to handle. She never wanted it to end. The Doctor put both her hands back down next to Yaz and worked her way across her chest, stopping when her mouth landed over Yaz’s other nipple. More sounds escaped Yaz’s mouth, but she really couldn’t help it.
Fingers danced ever so lightly along the side of Yaz’s ribcage, all the way down to her pants, then back up again. Yaz rolled slightly to that size, encouraging the Doctor to move her hand a bit more central. And she did, painstakingly slowly. The Doctor found her mouth again and kissed her, much less aggressively than before. As her hand dragged down, over her belly, past her belly button, near the buttons on her jeans, Yaz rocked up, trying to find some friction in her pants.
Then the Doctor stopped, again. Yaz opened her eyes to the Doctor looking right at her, hunger and a hint of concern on her face.
“Yaz,” she said, “tell me what you want.”
Yaz liked the sound of her name in the Doctor’s voice.
“I want you to touch me,” she said.
“Have been.”
Yaz rolled her eyes. She couldn’t tell whether the Doctor was being obtuse on purpose or truly didn’t know what Yaz meant. Either way, Yaz knew she would have to spell it out more clearly.
“You can start by taking my jeans off,” she said.
The Doctor focused in at the task at hand. She fumbled slightly with the button, didn’t tug quite hard enough the first time to pull the skinny jeans down, but then there Yaz was, wearing only her underwear, probably some floral pattern in cotton, and easily ignored socks.
The Doctor sat back, looking at Yaz some more, rubbing her thighs with her thumbs.
Yaz asked, “how about you? Your trousers?”
“Oh, um, I suppose they’re a bit in the way, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Fine. For you. But the underwear stays on,” said the Doctor. Yaz didn’t love the idea but would take what she could get. And right now, what she could get was an obnoxiously bright pair of rainbow boxers.
“They’re cute!” she said.
“Thanks! I quite like them myself.”
Yaz smiled and sat up to pull the Doctor into another passionate kiss. This time, her squirming got her nowhere, so she pulled the Doctor’s hand from her thigh closer to her center. Strong fingers stroked her over her panties. Yaz’s hips reached for them as she lied back down. The Doctor followed Yaz down with the kiss, all unoccupied fingers running through each other’s hair. Yaz sighed into the Doctor’s mouth, who responded with a little extra pressure to her labia.
“Please,” said Yaz, “more.”
The Doctor pulled away from Yaz’s mouth very dramatically, once again kissing her way down her stomach. Each peck made Yaz feel more desperate, but the Doctor showed no signs of speeding up. Instead, she began to tug down Yaz’s underwear, looking up at her face for any signs of protest. Yaz had none. Underwear removed, the Doctor turned her attention to Yaz’s thigh, breathing deeply as she kissed now upwards towards where Yaz needed her. Her fingers found her clit and began to rub slow but firm circles. Yaz moaned. They continued like this for some time, the Doctor’s mouth finding landing spots on her belly, her legs, but never her vagina, fingers all the while building Yaz up slowly. Yaz moved her hips in time with the Doctor’s slow circles, breathing deep and moaning softly. She reached with one hand for the Doctor’s head, trying fruitlessly to direct her attention. The Doctor instead grabbed Yaz’s other hand with her other. Yaz squeezed it.
“Please,” she begged.
“Please what?” said the Doctor, pausing only her kisses to wait for an answer.
“Please, just, fuck me, anything, I need to feel more.”
With anyone else, Yaz would never dare to be so needy, but the Doctor wasn’t anyone else, and she certainly wasn’t going to give Yaz what she wanted without being told.
Immediately, she felt a hot, wet tongue run up her labia. The Doctor’s fingers moved away from her clit to be replaced by her mouth, sucking at it greedily. Yaz sighed at the feeling, nearly came as the Doctor’s tongue worked its way up and down. But she backed off at that moment, opting instead to return to her work on Yaz’s breasts while her free hand found the entrance to Yaz’s vagina. One finger slipped barely inside, just enough to get wet, and found again Yaz’s clit. Yaz bucked.
“You’re so warm, and wet,” the Doctor said into her chest. Yaz was too blissful to say anything, so the Doctor added, “it’s nice.”
Her finger found its way back inside Yaz, followed soon by another. Yaz clutched the Doctor’s hair tightly at the feeling. Her fingers were slow, but deliberate, rubbing against a spot that just felt so good. Yaz arched her back into them, beginning to move quicker now, all but fucking herself on the Doctor’s fingers. The Doctor’s mouth returned to Yaz’s clit, and oh, it was all she needed. Yaz came, hard, clenching around the fingers, squirming uncontrollably, hot fire burning from her clitoris through her whole body. She groaned loudly, and the Doctor didn’t stop until her body finally relaxed.
Yaz found herself unable or unwilling to move. The Doctor kissed her mouth again, slowly and gently. Her own taste mingled with what was there before. The Doctor settled down on top of Yaz, breathing into her neck, clearly worn out and happy with herself. They stayed like that for a few minutes. Yaz felt better than she ever had as she came back down to Earth, or rather, Xanatar.
Soon enough, the Doctor sat back up and rolled herself off of Yaz, who groaned in complaint.
“Doctor,” she said, “don’t leave yet.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she replied, and grabbed Yaz’s hand as if to prove it.
“Well,” said Yaz, sitting herself up, “I suppose it’s your turn now.”
The Doctor’s whole face burned red. “I’m not sure I want that,” she said.
Yaz didn’t really understand. She wanted to give the Doctor everything.
“It’s just, being with you, that’s enough for me. I don’t need, don’t want, anything else.”
Yaz sat in silence for a moment.
“Are you scared?” she asked.
“Scared? Me? No. A little,” came the response.
Yaz had a hunger, deep inside her, for the Doctor, but once again found herself up against a boundary she didn’t really understand.
“Yaz, trust me,” said the Doctor, “This has been an amazing night. Ten out of ten. Making you feel good is all I need to feel good. I’m so happy you can be so open for me.”
And it was for her, all for her, Yaz knew. She rolled onto her side and wrapped her arms around the Doctor’s midsection.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Anything,” said the Doctor.
They slept together peacefully through the night. More custard creams were eaten, at some point pajamas were on and teeth were brushed, and Yaz was so happy.
“Sweet dreams, Doctor.”
At breakfast, Ryan could sense that something had shifted. The Doctor and Yaz both seemed lighter, somehow. He shrugged it off and ate his cereal before he and his fam hopped into the TARDIS for another adventure.