“And you’re sure that’s comfortable?”
Nyssa’s lips twitched in an indulgent smile. “Yes, Tegan. You could tighten it a bit more, actually.”
Tegan, who got the distinct impression she was being laughed at, stuck her tongue out. “I’m just making sure.”
Nyssa was definitely laughing at her.
“And what do you intend to do about it?” Nyssa tilted her head, ostensibly innocent if it weren’t for the smoldering mischief in her eyes. Telepaths.
This, for a start, Tegan glared at her. If Nyssa was skimming her mind she could damn well deal with the consequences. In this case, it was a memory: Nyssa’s slim fingers clenched like iron around her wrists, knees pinning her hips to a lumpy sofa in some forgotten corner of the library as Tegan complained loudly about a lack of any friction to speak of. Nyssa’s gentle, even voice doing things with the word “labia” that Tegan was fairly certain were illegal.
Nyssa’s smile could more accurately be called a smirk as she caught the tone of Tegan’s thoughts. She shifted closer, running her tongue over her teeth with a wicked grin, and then gave a wild yelp as she tried to catch her weight on a hand that was currently tied behind her back. Tegan caught her before she actually fell off the bed, but it was terribly undignified and the human couldn’t help but laugh.
“You’re very rude,” Nyssa informed her petulantly. “And if you’d fastened those cords it would never have happened.”
“Well don’t go blaming me,” Tegan told her. “Serves you right.” She never could resist a sad Nyssa, though, kissing her cheek quickly as she finally set to fishing out the thin ropes Nyssa had been practical enough to tie to the bedposts for her. She’d also given Tegan a diagram booklet illustrating the finer points of the rope cuffs currently tied comfortably around her wrists. Tegan had protested that she wasn’t that helpless; Nyssa had raised an eyebrow at that and Tegan had ended up having to use the step-by-step guide regardless, but it was the principle of the thing.
The bonds were designed to give Nyssa a fair bit of leeway, for which Tegan was grateful. The rope-cuff design Nyssa had given her left the better part of ten inches of slack between her wrists as she knelt patiently in front of the headboard giving Tegan instructions on how to tie a basic knot, and the ropes attached to the bedposts were just barely taut so long as Nyssa didn’t pull against them. Considering how many times Nyssa had backed her up against a wall and had her way with her Tegan knew she really shouldn’t be overly concerned about her willingness to speak up for herself, but the Trakenite was so tiny it was hard not to feel cruel tying her up.
Nyssa ran her tongue over a distracted Tegan’s earlobe, and the human squeaked.
Nyssa batted her eyelashes innocently. Tegan muttered several unflattering things as she gave her knots one last yank and picked up the innocuous silver tube lying on an otherwise-empty nightstand. Nyssa’s side of the room was freakishly well-organized.
She twisted the tube until a blue ring around the center lit up, then hesitated. “You’re sure about this? It is safe?”
“Of course.” Nyssa frowned, suddenly gracious and concerned. “Tegan,” she said. “If it really makes you uncomfortable you don’t have to. Your boundaries matter, too, you know. Communication—”
Sensing a several-hour-long lecture probably involving slides and data tables in the making, Tegan jabbed Nyssa in the neck.
“Ow!” Nyssa huffed at her. “You might have warned me, Tegan.”
Nyssa smiled her forgiveness, shifting expectantly and straightening up, looking at Tegan with wide, guileless eyes, the picture of earnestness awaiting instruction.
She didn’t buy it for a minute.
“How long ‘till this stuff kicks in?” Tegan asked, turning the hypospray over in her hands. There was a little paper label pasted on the side, identified with a string of numbers and letters in Nyssa’s small, precise handwriting, but it didn’t mean anything to her.
“How do you know it hasn’t already?” Nyssa murmured.
Tegan peered at her for a moment, then grinned. “Pupil dilation.”
Nyssa groaned. “Of all the times to pay attention…”
“You don’t forget alien sex pollen in a hurry!”
Well, you didn’t. Somehow, maddeningly, the Doctor hadn’t been affected by it. He said it only affected humanoids; Tegan didn’t see how Nyssa could count as humanoid if he didn’t, but by that point the aphrodisiac had been well and truly working its way into her system and she was rather focused on other things. (Nyssa had observed ruefully, after, that she hadn’t expected the planet-of-the-week’s famous Gardens of Love to be quite that romantic.)
Before long she’d been perfectly happy that the Doctor wasn’t affected, or else there wouldn’t have been anyone to steer them away from Turlough before anything hideously embarrassing happened. Well, before anything hideously embarrassing happened in front of him, at least. There was very little in the way of dignity when your scientist girlfriend shoved you into a closet and locked the door “to resist temptation” while she attempted to figure out a cure.
She had found one—eventually. It had been hours, and by that time the need had been overpowering, almost agonizingly painful. Tegan knew she hadn’t been very coherent by that point but she remembered pleading with Nyssa through the locked door. Her exact words, thankfully, were something of a haze; though Turlough had very politely offered to tell her what they’d been before Nyssa silenced him with a death glare that had once held the High Council of Gallifrey captive.
“It wasn’t sex pollen, Tegan,” Nyssa explained reasonably. “A certain family of plant life on the planet happened to secrete a naturally-occurring compound with aphrodisiac effects on humanoid species.”
“And furthermore,” she continued, “It wasn’t transmitted at all like a pollen-borne chemical.” Tegan would have rolled her eyes, except that the usual deep breath Nyssa took before launching into a scientific explanation had shaken slightly and her pupils were definitely beginning to dilate. Her voice was pitched noticeably higher than usual as she plowed determinedly on. “We didn’t breathe it in or accidentally ingest it, the compound was transferred via d-direct skin contact through microscopic pricklers on the surface of… of the leaves, and—”
Nyssa’s lecture was cut off into a low keen when Tegan finally got tired of listening, cupping one hand behind the Trakenite's neck and pulling her in for a rough, deep kiss. Her free hand tangled in Nyssa’s mass of curls, pulling them away from her face. Nyssa shifted and gave an irritated huff as she tried to reach out to Tegan and remembered that she couldn’t actually move her hands.
She dealt with this indignity by inching forward as far as she could, snaking her tongue past Tegan’s lips and pressing flush against her. Tegan tightened her grip reflexively; her fingers dug for a moment into Nyssa’s hair, the nails of her free hand scraping against her neck. Nyssa gave an approving hum, kissing her hungrily, and then Tegan’s hand moved from her neck to hook around her waist and she smirked.
And, well. Tegan couldn’t be having with that, now, could she?
Nyssa made a disappointed sound as Tegan pulled away, and the human couldn’t help but smile. She laid a quick kiss on Nyssa’s forehead before sitting back again and turning her attention to the ties on Nyssa’s bathrobe. (Practical as always, she really had thought of everything; Tegan couldn’t help but wonder exactly how long she’d been planning this.) She took her time about it, for a change; Tegan was usually all rush and impatience, and even on their slower nights she very clearly had a goal in mind. It would make Nyssa laugh, which Tegan could only really think of as a good thing. Nyssa had a very pretty laugh.
She also had a great deal of patience—had to, really, to spend so much time around Tegan. And for all that she appreciated that all-too-human eagerness it wasn’t howshe liked to do things, and tonight was meant to be about Nyssa. So Tegan moved almost glacially slow now, trailing her fingertips down the inside edges of the bathrobe without ever quite touching the skin, taking the time to appreciate how Nyssa’s breath hitched, how the fluffy white material shifted, the slight flush on her neck.
It didn’t come naturally to her at all, working the loose knot free, drawing the strip of fabric free of its loops, rubbing the corners of the robe between her fingers and encouraging it to fall open on its own, doing everything but touching Nyssa everywhere she possibly could. But Nyssa’s eyes were closed, her breathing shallow and quick and a smile twitching at the corners of her lips so Tegan was sure she was doing something right.
Finally she let herself twitch Nyssa’s robe open and placed her fingers carefully on either side of the Trakenite’s neck. Nyssa didn’t move, but her smile widened as Tegan drew her fingertips down her throat, tracing her collarbone, running over her ribs, stroking lightly along the underside of her breasts and drawing a stuttering gasp from her throat. That was a test Tegan’s patience couldn’t endure; Nyssa was pressing into her touch and she wanted her.
Nyssa made a tiny, breathless sound as Tegan’s hands lost their hesitance, moving to cup her breasts and squeezing just enough before running down her flanks, kneading at her sides and shifting her hips against the sheets. That tiny bit of friction was too much, as Tegan could remember only too well. Nyssa’s eyes snapped wide open, glazed and out-of focus as she shuddered and gave a long, full-throated moan.
“I think it’s kicking in,” Tegan observed unnecessarily.
Nyssa was too far gone to manage a death glare. “It’s incredible,” she breathed, ribs heaving. “The fast-acting physiological effect of the compound, I thought it would be amplified if injected directly into the bloodstream…” Tegan slipped an arm around the Trakenite’s waist, free hand dropping to stroke purposefully between Nyssa’s legs. “I was very careful to keep the dosage and concentration the same as what would be naturally occurring, I haven’t had a chance to run tests on altered concentrations, Tegan, Tegan, yes, that’s perfect…”
Her head tipped back with a sigh and Tegan latched onto her throat, sucking just where Nyssa’s gracefully bared neck met her collarbone and shoving the fluffy bathrobe impatiently out of the way. Nyssa’s uneven breath hitched and her hips jumped; Tegan obediently pressed two fingers into her, shifting her attention to the other side of Nyssa’s neck. “What kinda physiological effects?” she muttered against her skin, flicking the pad of her thumb over Nyssa’s clit, tightening the arm around her waist to hold her in place.
Nyssa managed to roll her hips again regardless, sucking a breath through her teeth. “Drawing from…previous study of the compound,” she panted, “Increased blood flow… rapid heart rate, heightened release of pleasure hormones…”
Tegan grinned at her. “Missing one,” she said innocently, running a wet finger in a quick circle that made Nyssa jerk against the ropes.
“What?” Tegan had perfected the art of looking bored and disinterested, even when absently licking her fingers clean while a gorgeous, brilliant young woman was tied to her headboard aching for her.
Nyssa gave a low whimper of protest at the loss of Tegan’s touch. “Please,” she said desperately.
Tegan cocked her head, considering, and then carefully drew two fingers along Nyssa’s inner lips.
Her frustration was cut off by a low moan as the teasing fingers finally slipped deeper, curling slowly as Tegan pressed the heel of her palm against her clit. The arm around Nyssa’s waist moved up her back, finally clenching in her hair as Tegan pulled her in for a hard, hungry kiss. Nyssa sighed into her mouth, eagerly relaxing into the kiss and grinding slowly, deliciously against Tegan’s palm, long breaths turning to wheezing gasps.
This time when Tegan pulled away at the last moment, Nyssa didn’t have the presence of mind to manage more than a choked keen of dismay.
Tegan smirked at that, pulling Nyssa’s head back and trailing hot open-mouthed kisses back down her throat, pausing just above her collarbone to release her hair and let a hand wander down, kneading a breast until Nyssa squirmed and whined above her. She licked a stripe from the hollow of Nyssa’s throat, up along her tendon and nipping her ear before sitting back fully. Her fingers weren’t still, but they were skimming and light—she certainly wasn’t giving Nyssa anything she wanted, and the desperation was a great deal more enjoyable to see than she’d expected.
After several long minutes of futile wriggling as she tried to get proper friction from a partner who was determined not to give it, Nyssa gradually stilled and closed her eyes, letting her head fall forward. She visibly forced herself to stop reacting to Tegan’s long, teasing strokes, taking several deep breaths and relaxing her muscles one by one.
When she finally looked back up, Tegan almost laughed. It was such a calculatedly pathetic look; Nyssa was an incredible actress when she wanted to be. Her shoulders slumped in a way that made it look like she was curling sadly into herself. Her wild curls framed her face angelically, and those big brown eyes—were they literally glistening with tears?—looked up at Tegan like they had never been so heartbroken. Don’t you like me? the look said without words, and it was almost comical. And then Nyssa opened her sad, cherubic little mouth.
There was nothing even remotely innocent about her now. Her voice, while soft as always, rang with understated expectation. Her beatific doe-eyed look was transformed by the simple shift into pure and unashamed desire and Tegan was suddenly acutely aware of how the loose curls looked where they rested against the bruises on her throat.
“Tegan, love,” she murmured, almost pouting as she shifted and let the bathrobe fall completely off her shoulders—seemingly by accident, as if anything Nyssa did was ever accidental. “Don’t tease me.”
Tegan swallowed, throat suddenly dry.
“Sounded like an order, Nyss,” she stuttered, fingers stumbling, her free hand tightening on Nyssa’s thigh.
“You like it when I give you orders,” Nyssa purred, inching her knees apart and pressing against Tegan’s fingers. They twitched and curled reflexively. The smoldering, triumphant look in her eyes made Tegan dig her nails into Nyssa’s skin where she’d been gripping her leg; it was a demand but oh was it ever a promise as well, carefully calculated like everything about Nyssa. She hissed as Tegan’s carefully filed nails dug angry red crescents into her thigh, and strained against the cords with a low, appreciative moan.
Tegan was the furthest thing from reverent. She was loud and angry and cynical and if you listened to Turlough (which she didn’t) something of a killjoy. She was hard angles and straight lines; sharp heels and a sharper tongue, all bones and harsh discordant notes wrapped up in Aussie stubbornness. But with Nyssa like this… the effect it had on her was so much deeper than the initial rush of simple overwhelming want. There was… softness, to Nyssa. They were all of them strong and decently fit from the constant running, but under all of it Nyssa had resisted any transformation into hard muscle. If Tegan was harsh and angular Nyssa was nothing but gentle curves; but then, so was fire. There was a similar warmth and familiarity in Nyssa, and the same coiled power as well, confidence and collection that made her moments of genuine vulnerability something approaching sacred. With her arching into Tegan and longing to be touched, refusing was almost heresy.
Taking a very long, very deep breath (and trying very hard to ignore the scent of Nyssa’s skin, the way her hair cascaded down her back and certainly the way her bare throat looked the light of their bedside lamps), Tegan drew back and braced her hands on Nyssa’s knees.
The third time, it seemed, was the charm. Nyssa’s carefully-built-up control cracked; she gave a tiny, choking whimper and thrashed against the cords with a frustrated wail. “Tegan…!”
Tegan didn’t move except to tighten her grip on her lover’s knees, holding them still and keeping her from getting any friction. It felt cruel but Nyssa had been very clear about safewords and that Tegan wasn’t to stop unless one of them needed to use them, and if she could trust anyone’s judgement she could trust Nyssa’s. There was another hypospray with the equally powerful synthesized antidote in the drawer. Nyssa would tell her if she needed it.
“Tegan,” Nyssa moaned as she twisted and fought to free her hands. Her skin was flushed, her breathing fast and ragged, and her eyes were half-lidded and unfocused like she had a fever. “Do you… do you want me to beg, Tegan, please, I can’t stand it…”
“You were already begging,” Tegan pointed out hoarsely. “Unless that was someone else.” Actually, stranger things had happened. “You’re not Ann Talbot, are—?”
“Tegan.” Nyssa’s voice was a desperate rasp. “Tegan please, please stop teasing, I need you, Tegan—”
She didn’t finish her sentence, because she had been shoved back against the headboard with a hot, hungry tongue running over the roof of her mouth and impatient hands running over everything else they could reach. Tegan had very little restraint to begin with, and it had just reached its limits. She thought Nyssa was still whimpering her name as she kissed her, hard and demanding and selfish and everything she almost never got to see from Nyssa and hell’s teeth it was incredible and she wanted all of her, all at once.
Nyssa came with a long, quiet, drawn-out keen with Tegan’s lips and tongue at her neck, an arm locked around her waist and her palm grinding against Nyssa’s clit, fingers curling and twisting to pull her through the aftershocks. She was glad of the support, after; it was only Tegan’s arm, steady and secure around her that stopped her from collapsing awkwardly and probably hurting her wrists twisting them in the ropes.
Tegan could see the problem too. She unclipped the restraining cords quickly; it took a bit of trial-and-error to get the rope cuffs off without Nyssa giving her instructions, but she figured it out eventually. Nyssa’s struggling had left bright red marks on her wrists that Tegan, at least, found worrying; but then maybe Trakenites were different somehow, because Nyssa didn’t seem concerned.
“Hey,” said Tegan, sounding concerned. “Nyss'?”
Nyssa murmured an exhausted reply of some sort, blinking tears of excess emotion out of her eyes and nuzzling into Tegan’s chest, clutching the human’s hand in both of hers. The hazy, indistinct brush of her mind against Tegan's was content and reassuring.
Tegan sighed with something approaching exasperation. “Well you’re all right. I didn’t even get a chance to get my clothes off!”
Nyssa smiled, relaxing into Tegan’s arms, and whispered something that sounded like “Next time.”