Chapter Text
Madness.
Complete and utter madness.
It was the only thing that could describe the sight that lay beyond.
Kal'tsit had her suspicions, of course. Back-to-back prepunctual meetings of increasing duration. Faint murmurings within the administrative wing at late hours. Occasionally, she had even glimpse them exiting the control room and heading straight towards the living quarters in the most indiscreet fashion. What in the world had sparked their affair to surface with such frequency and boldness?
And now, here they were: the exiled Lord of Fiends, with hair disheveled and skin moist, fellating the Doctor with zeal as he leaned against the wall.
In the middle of a hallway, no less!
Lewd, garbled noises flowed through the air. It seemed more muted than expected. As if both participants were doing their best to stifle themselves, however obscene and risky this situation was in the first place.
Granted, they WERE in the more vacant part of the landship. She only wished they had chosen a different path that did not lead to her quarters.
Peeking around the corner, Kal'tsit couldn't help but follow the glide of her best friend's tongue. Just the motion of her, leaning and pushing forth, a graceful sloping of her head... Almost as though the practice itself were art. Each bob of Theresa's crown and back again pulled her gaze further and deeper, even though she wasn't a part of this exchange.
Kal'tsit's breathing grew harsher as the ordeal progressed. The dampness between her thighs was an intolerable insistence at this point, her hand already positioned underneath the hem of her skirt.
...Wait, what?
It should have been impossible for her self-control to slip away so easily. More than ten-thousand years of age, and she had trained her mind and discipline far longer than any native Terran could. She was not one to fall prey to bestial, unbridled desires. Yet the way in which the Doctor ran a hand through the curls on Theresa's head, caressing every corner of her scalp, just begging her to go deeper—
Lips fell free, breath hitching.
The Doctor.
Distant memories of him flowed through the mind. Back when she was a youngling, artificially created in a laboratory by the most brilliant minds of the galaxy, he was the one that taught her of compassion and the values of life. Helped her discover herself. Paved the path to freedom and bestowed her the very name that she held dear.
The closest thing Kal'tsit—AMa-10—had to a father.
Madness.
Biting her lip, the Feline woman's fingers turned into a blur beneath her dress.
What an aching void had he left, with both his departure into millennia-long slumber and Kal'tsit's dedication to his cause. To be worthy of his legacy. To prove herself. Whatever tiny fragments of his presence remained within her body and mind, even something as flimsy as the impression of a once-affectionate gaze, gave her resolve.
Who could blame her for yearning for any resemblance of his former presence, even this sick delusion of a half-imagined affair?
Yes, an overwhelming, embarrassing urge, desperate for a chance to rekindle their special bond and all its facets—both deep and dour and domestic, professional and scholarly. Even if this was nothing but a flimsy, contrived hallucination.
It must be, right?
Kal'tsit's mind grew hazier as her plunging digits gained a vigorous rhythm. Once begun, the motions grew instinctual and easier to match with each repetition. She watched as Theresa suckled his cock as though siphoning precious nourishment from it, and it made her feel no better, fingers wet and slick. Her clit throbbed in an insatiable tempo, an infernal urge that compelled her to give chase to the rising climax. And as the two's affection unfolded before her eyes, she realized how badly she wanted to be right there with them.
Madness!
A mad, lecherous fantasy. Like a woman starved, Kal'tsit's mind conjured the mental image of herself buried neck deep, taking her turn worshiping the man's phallus with unrestrained eagerness, no different from her Sarkaz friend. Letting the smooth sides glide against her tongue. Grinding her nose against his pubic hair with every descent. Getting the chance to fully look upon his eyes, half-lidded and rolling from the stimulation. Glowing silvery lights watching back as his beloved Kal'tsit savored the taste of his cock.
Would he caress her hair as he did before?
By this point, Kal'tsit had drawn so much moisture that the damp slickness bubbled up and around her frantic digits. It made the whole experience as natural as breathing, knowing well that in the midst of this frenzied heat, every part of her, every molecule bound and knit within, would want so, SO very much to get fucked by the Doctor.
To be overwhelmed by the deluge. Her body would bend, contort, and be thoroughly molded in the pursuit of his greatest pleasure. Both as surrogate daughter and creation. Little more than a useful orifice to hold and stroke and gouge him off inside. That would be the blessing. A rebirth to soothe her aching desires and reconnect with all he has bestowed. Then would she be acknowledged.
Renewed. Pervaded. Delivered.
Whatever came after was a small price to pay.
Soon, Kal'tsit sensed her climax reach its breaking point. It was an imminent overspill, every synapse flashing, muscles tense, so close to bursting forth the dam and spill her juices all over the floor. She whined as the Doctor grunted, thrusting forward into Theresa's eager maw and—
That was when the Sarkaz King noticed her presence as she stumbled into view.
Kal'tsit drew a gasp before covering her mouth with the same hand soaked in her own juices. Not unlike Theresa, who also grew pale with shock and fright. Drawing away from the Doctor's cock, her glistening stare now transfixed on her friend and counterpart.
"K-Kal'tsit," Theresa gaped, beautiful even with a face mired by spittle and mucus. "I... We..."
Several moments of awful, dreadful silence.
None spoke.
With great effort, Kal'tsit's lifted her gaze to the Doctor’s face. Flushed and ashamed beyond belief, those damnable greys of his bore straight through her, a familiar sight that drove into her very soul. There was no room for imagination this time. Not with the stench of sex thick in the air.
She felt her mind tilt and fray like an old boat. A cold breeze floated through the hallway, fanning her damp inner thighs.
"Kal."
He rumbled out her old nickname, and the sound hit her in-between her legs.
In an instant, her eyes were compelled to drop down and fixate on the prize abandoned by the pink-haired royalty: his standing member, exposed and swollen from the licentious act, and angled straight towards her like a threat.
No.
Like a promise.
...
If this was madness, then she wanted to swim and drown in it.
Kal'tsit took a step forward.
The moment Kal'tsit sunk to her knees, there were now two familiar pairs of lips on the Doctor's cock.
His teeth ached with the suddenness of it, the sight of that eroticism, an impossible thought and now in reality... Their tongues stilled at first as they regarded each other, pink and green eyes sharp with some shard of understanding, before glancing at him and moving in synchronized tandem.
Few could evoke such depraved desire as the nimble Feline's mouth could, and its intensity went undiminished in his newfound shared pleasure. Kal'tsit, now a grown woman on the surface and far older beneath, no less so.
The sight of her nose nestled between coarse hair and fat cockhead sent sparks racing under his skin, warmth and pressure welling faster than anticipated. Rounded pink lips latched onto him as their hands worked to lather his flesh in her spit, hands so alike as though already acquainted with each other. To his fascination, the white-furred ears in her hair flicked downward with every squelching sound, almost in unison as his hard breaths. As they brushed against his belly, he let his fingers delve into their velvety depths, tweaking them to full attention.
Theresa was not idle in this impromptu contest, for she moved with equal measure of dedication. Slavering on the man's testicles, she sucked each side with ardent eagerness, one at a time, and carefully pressed the thick length with a steady hand. As her skillful tongue darted along his left or right, another hot mouth shifted up and down his shaft, sinking it several inches deep with each swift bob.
He should have been repulsed at the sight of Kal'tsit bearing the same licentious features and expression as her Sarkaz companion. However, to see the same beautiful, austere nature of the person he loved and cherished so thoroughly overpower with the carnal hedonism was both as unnerving and alluring at once.
Though by no means the younger of the three, her lips sucked with such reverence that they retained a fullness her counterpart struggled to maintain. Lime eyes with dilated pupils blinked once. Twice.
Then her lithe, dextrous mouth dove like a striking falcon upon the root.
Unrestrained moans leaked from her occupied lips as they sealed tight, as if sampling a fine spirit from her Doctor's groin. He clenched a fistful of white hair, to which the cat-eared lady mewled in response. The moment his glans slipped into her throat, he heard the Sarkaz King gurgle below.
Theresa suckling on his balls with Kal'tsit stuffing his cock down her gullet—a decadence no other man could have. That he would always hold and never break.
His legs tensed as the heat grew indescribable. The tandem attentions were suddenly at odds, leaving him straddling either edge. They were approaching from a different direction but aimed at the same release. One which the Doctor was sure would tear loose if he did not choose now.
When he pulled Kal'tsit free, she lingered to pepper the tip with little sucks and kitten-licks. Theresa joined her quickly, their faces now smeared with stray pre and saliva, and their long eyelashes fluttering in anticipation.
Whorish, pink tongues curled around his shaft in slippery teases. He ran a hand through Theresa's pretty locks, admiring how much she enjoyed the exchange with her elder, not even a semblance of jealousy. On her other side, the older woman maintained an austere gleam to her eyes, a dignity that threatened to shatter when he yanked both women headlong into his crotch.
For an intense beat, he rutted the lips pressed on either side of him like a makeshift cunt. Their tongues hung out to lavish his ample sacks. Both panted and peered up with wet gasps that bordered on exultant and needy.
After all, what reward awaited the tireless huntresses but the choicest cut for their feast?
He let go of their hair and, like starving creatures, they clambered to feed on his cock. Impossible to name one superior as each took turns fighting for the greatest space. Kal'tsit mounted her face directly against him, thrusting her nose forward while devouring him with zeal. Theresa responded with an affronted noise and latched onto his left with a sucking, urgent tone. He sank deeper into the competing womanhood of his lovers, gripping the back of their heads, and forced Theresa to engage Kal'tsit in a brief but fierce kiss.
In such a desperate moment, pride and stubbornness winked away like crumbling candle flames.
They kissed and licked, longingly and lewdly, before breaking away to dive with newfound ardor. A hand grasped his testicles, squeezing, to stimulate him closer to a final eruption. Another worked his thick and ready cock with desperate pulls, as if attempting to pull out the very milk with a mix of spit and desire. He held fast despite the coming crescendo, that moment when his toes will curl from the inevitable and—
By his instinct, the Doctor pulled free and began to yank himself. They remained in position, watching him fist his slicked shaft with abandon, eyes wide and sparkling.
No telling of who reacted faster, Theresa or Kal'tsit.
His first ropy strands of cum went into the open maws, while white jets spilled across their delighted faces. Receptive as they were, they tilted their heads in maddening synchronization, like animals scenting prey, tongues flattening to bear the Doctor's gift to them. Rivulets went into waiting mouths, down slender necks, between valleys and pillowy mounds. Across lips, tongue, chin, teeth, and the edges of cloudy eyes that couldn't blink in order to track the rain of seed upon them.
Upon a pair of lovely visages, one well-worn, but hardly weathered, and the other still youthful and flushed.
With their faces painted white and eyes rolled upward in mind-numbing satisfaction, they found themselves captivated by their mutual goal, and thus a truce ensued—as well as their acceptance of reality.
Madness.
Of course. Only madness can explain why, after all was said and done, the royalty of the trio reached over to smother the Feline's lips, sharing his flavor like it was the finest wine. Mewling, rolling his cum between their teeth, letting the viscous liquid slip between the corners of their mouths. Even wrapping it around in sinuous trails that broke apart as they delved into each other.
Astonishingly enough, amidst the act, those lusty eyes remained locked on the Doctor. As if it was a show only for him to enjoy, their breathless bodies and wanton tongues worked between strands of seed. When at last they broke apart, his taste lingered between them, a primal necessity in the air that would not be ignored.
As they looked back up at him, both of their expressions held the same unspoken request.
More.
He'd answer it soon enough.