Experiment?
It’s Fluff/Angst lil make out with the doc
In the darkest part of the Doctor’s tent where the shadows swallowed his form, an ungloved thumb gently brushes against your back just under the shirt, the claw barely detectable to soft, delicate flesh. The other undoes the mask, setting it aside with little sound. Your own hands rest against his chest, the thick fabric of his uniform separating human from nonhuman, it almost felt unfair.
Your instincts tell you to run. To get away from this being hiding in human skin. Who’s claws have ripped flesh from bone and teeth that have devoured so many of your kind. Why stay and be the proverbial lamb in the lion's den?
The squeak of the chair breaks the silence of quiet breaths. A whisper of a kiss falls on your lips, hesitant yet patient. It doesn’t have the underlying hunger of Pierrot, the finesse of Harlequin, nor the subtle or blatant cruelty of Ticket Taker or Jester. This small sign of affection was filled with longing, or was it something else.
Warm breath tickles your cheeks as he pulls away. Somewhere in the dark fingers lace together, monster to nonmonster skin. Your lips follow his, claws twitching at the boldness. You feel a smile form on pressed lips then the pressure as they meld to yours.
A hand slides up from chest to cheek, feeling the almost human skin underneath then continues to the back of his head and into feathery hair. He chuckles at your exploration, an arm wraps around your waist. Lips come together again and again in silent promises made without spilling honeyed words. Between flat and pointed teeth tongues embrace, tasting the words left unsaid, if any needed to be said at all.
What were you to him? An experiment perhaps. It was how you got here, he asked for a moment of your time and you allowed it. So why, why does this intimacy feel real? It’s not supposed to be, right? How could a monster love you. Your heart breaks, and soars. A cacophony of emotions deafening to the mind while your soul reaches for the light of another.
Tears are smeared under your eye with a knuckle no doubt tainting the results of the experiment. To be devoured would hurt but this… this was suffocating. A slow death of a heart still beating. ‘Why me?’
