One Night at the Savoy

In 'The Sands of Time', Nyssa is captured and wrapped up as a mummy to spend thousands of years in suspended animation. The Doctor finds himself crossing his own time track to rescue her. He arrives at the Savoy Hotel to find that his future self has reserved rooms for him and Tegan, as they can't get anything done until the next day. The writer merely sends them to their separate beds. I couldn't let it stop there, so I have inserted this scene.


Night at the Savoy

So here she was in 1896, the heart of the Gilded Age, in a room at the Savoy Hotel at the zenith of its Victorian splendor. It had apparently been rented by her future self and stocked with a small but adequate wardrobe of new clothes. All Tegan Jovanka had to do was get a good night’s sleep and in the morning, after a good breakfast, they’d go off and rescue Nyssa.

“Ohhhhh!!” Tegan felt like stamping her feet, but it was no use being angry without someone to shout at.

The preferred shout-ee was in the next room, ‘thinking over a few things.’ He’d locked himself in, too. Smart move, because she might have followed him in and

had her way with him

given him a piece of her mind. Tegan paced back and forth. She was going to go crazy. She hated waiting and she couldn’t bear the thought of Nyssa wrapped up like a mummy in that sarcophagus. Whatever she was going to do was laid out in front of her, and she hated that, too.

Her future self had left a green dress on the bed. Women’s clothes of this period weren’t much more roomy than mummy wrappings, but the green dress was really lovely. She’d always thought that shade of green best suited her coloring. “What does it matter? The Doctor won’t notice and anyone I flirt with will turn out to be the bad guy or a monster in disguise. It’s always like that.”

Tegan stared at the dress for a moment, then carefully picked it up and hung it over a chair. That black lace trim was gorgeous on the pale green silk… there might be an upside to this horrible mess. She looked through the wardrobe. There were a couple of other pretty dresses. These were modest examples of the style of this time, with sleeves that were only softly puffed instead of the giant leg ’o’ lamb mode. And here, in the dresser, were some Victorian frilly white under things. One item served to drive out all her useless fretful thoughts of Nyssa: a delicate nightgown of white cotton lawn trimmed with silk ribbons and lace. Tegan stripped off her modern clothes and sponged herself off from the basin and ewer set on the dresser.

She pulled the gown on over her head and looked at herself in the tall oval mirror. Tegan had always wanted a gown in this style. She hadn’t dried herself off very well in her hurry, and the cotton clung revealingly to her damp skin.

I think I look pretty good. Too bad there’s no one around to see it. Tegan shivered in the cool air and glanced at the bed. It looked large and comfortable, laden with blankets and duvet and giant pillows. All she was going to do was sleep in it. It seemed like such a waste. Her gaze returned to her reflection.

…the Doctor standing behind her with his hands sliding down her arms…
…he bowed his head to kiss the nape of her neck and his eyes met hers in the mirror, their normal bright blue hooded dark and sensual…
…his hands on her hips holding her back against his body…
(Tegan hastily erased the cricket jacket and sweater and left him barefoot with his shirt partway unbuttoned)
…she let her head sag back against his shoulder and his lips grazed her throat and a hand closed over her breast…


Tegan moaned out loud and startled herself right out of her fantasy. Her reflection stared back wide-eyed, one hand on a breast and the other cupping the mound at the base of her belly. Her blood felt like it was boiling through her veins and her sex was hot and wet and ready… for what? How long had it been, anyway? I’m not a nun. Why shouldn’t I give myself some relief and get it out of my system before I make a pass at the Doctor? If she did he’d probably be horrified and she’d be mortified when she came to her senses. Tegan’s thoughts drifted while her hands started to move on her body again. Maybe there was a bar and she could go loiter there and see if some Victorian gent would chat her up.

And then I’d get thrown out of the hotel as a prostitute, or sent to jail, and the Doctor would have to come bail me out. Tegan’s hands bunched the thin cotton and she moaned again in pure frustration.

The Doctor paced back and forth in his room. Only one lamp was lit. He had stripped off coat, sweater, braces, and shoes in concession to relaxation, but the big sturdy bed might as well have been full of nails for all the rest it gave him. Right now he was thinking better on his feet. His brain turned the events of the day back and forth. His future self had left a carefully constructed knot of events and he must pull the right threads if he wanted to get Nyssa safely back again.

What was that sound? It came from Tegan’s room. She might be venting her worry for Nyssa in a fit of tears. Humans were driven by their emotions and Tegan was more than typical of her species in this regard. She and Nyssa had a deep and powerful bond and he would have to keep reminding Tegan that he, too, wanted Nyssa back.

The Doctor found himself standing still, listening.

Again! She must be upset to make that kind of sound or maybe there was something else wrong.

The Doctor went to Tegan’s room. The foolish girl hadn’t locked her door; anyone could have come in! He heard her cry out again and without a second thought he opened the door and entered.

She was alone, and wearing only a nightgown. The Doctor hastily shut the door. The Savoy was a high class hotel and these were prudish times. It could cause a fuss if he were found in the room of an unmarried woman in her nightgown. Her thin, white nightgown. She had her back to him and was so absorbed in what she was doing that she hadn’t noticed the door opening and closing on well-oiled hinges. Her head was thrown back, and over her shoulder he could see her reflection, her hands moving on her body.

Oh. The thought hung in his head the way his jaw (he realized suddenly) was sagging.

should go but thin white nightgown lucky she didn’t hear me come in the warm gaslight Tegan’s skin glowing surely she’d hear the door open she can’t be that distracted ivory satin and velvet shadow if she turns and sees me now she’ll scream

He drew nearer to Tegan with the vague plan of putting his hand over her mouth to prevent her from screaming because of course she’ll realize I’m here it’s too late for anything else now mustn’t let her scream

Tegan was staring intently at her reflection where her hand cupped her breast through the delicate cotton. It was so transparent that even in the reflection and from a distance, he could see the darkness of her nipples where she teased them to hard points.

mustn’t let her scream

He was right behind her, close enough so that when she threw her head back again it hit his shoulder and she drew in a sharp frightened breath and he circled an arm around to pin her to him and fumbled for her mouth with his other hand.

“Tegan,” he said hoarsely, don’t scream, but he never said it and instead of his hand he covered her mouth with his. He drank her breath until the scream emerged as a moan. His arm around her loosened and he let that hand slide down her torso until it found hers cupping her sex and held it there.

It wasn’t until the Doctor kissed her that Tegan fully realized she hadn’t been imagining his reflection. She stopped clutching her breast and that hand flailed in the air for a moment then found his cheek. She slid her fingers back until they were buried in his hair so she could urge him to keep up the kiss.

that kiss

(the one where he trapped her mouth under his then kissed her breathless holding her back against the solidity of him and then he bit her lower lip and let go)

Tegan lifted her head and found herself meeting the Doctor’s reflected gaze. His hand still held hers down over her mons, his fingers curled in so that they both cupped her sex. The cotton was stretched taut and translucent over her body, emphasizing the jut of her breasts. The silk ribbons of the yoke were still incongruously tied.

“Tegan, you are beautiful,” his husky voice spoke at her ear but she felt as though he were addressing her reflection instead of her self. She couldn’t look away from his eyes in the mirror. His free hand rose to the ribbon bow tied at her throat and tugged the end so that the knot came undone. There were five of them, and he undid them one by one and she couldn’t breathe and her body felt like a live coal and his body felt like any man’s pressed against her back and especially that hard shape imprinting itself into the curve of her bum.

The yoke parted in the middle and his fingertips painted a line of ice and fire along the inner slope of her breast then up to the base of her throat. They hooked under the neck of the gown and he pulled it aside. The fabric sagged down her arm, half baring her breast.

His eyes held hers. Head bowed, his lips explored the line of her bared shoulder. Her skin was hot ivory satin; spicy to the taste. That husky voice of hers was made to moan. The Doctor had winced more than once in the past when she raised it in anger, but the little sounds of arousal she was making now found their way straight to ancient male instincts that the Doctor seldom allowed to run free.

They’re running riot now. So soft and hot. ISheMore

Tegan.

He kissed the crook of her neck then the spot behind her ear. “Beautiful,” he told her again, and slid his fingers over hers, past hers. He caressed the swollen heat of her vulva through the cotton and felt her tremble against him.

“Doctor,” she said breathlessly.

“Yes. I heard you moaning. I was worried.” He frowned at her. “You should have locked your door.”

Tegan laughed and turned around in his arms. “I’m sorry,” she said, sounding not at all apologetic, “I’ll remember next ti”me. “Mmmm.” Whether she kissed him or he kissed her didn’t seem to matter and was lost in the confusion of his buttons.

I’ll have to get the maid to sew that back on.

The Doctor shrugged out of his shirt then swept Tegan off her feet and carried her over to the bed. He could have taken off his trousers that quickly too, only he was watching Tegan struggling free of the nightgown which seemed to be putting up a fight with its copious folds and swathes of lace. He felt like cheering when she ripped it off over her head and sailed it across the room.

However, at this point it became an imperative to kiss her breasts. The tender satiny skin was irresistibly resilient and his lips glided over the roundness to the rose brown peaks that demanded his tongue and his teeth

and her moan and the spread of her thighs as he nudged them apart

and he was cool and solid like a marble statue moving onto her, the weight of him bearing her down and open and his lips parting hers and

his tongue in the heat of her mouth and her hand on his belly and hot fingers circling his length and

the slick wet heat yielding and enfolding him

into conjunction.

Tegan raised her pelvis hungrily and let her hands roam the Doctor’s back.

He let his forehead rest against hers. “Beautiful,” he whispered to see the smile come into her dark pleasure-glazed eyes, and started to move inside her.

“I’ve always wanted this, with you,” she confessed.

“I know.” His head dipped and he nibbled her earlobe. She turned her face away, exposing the delicate skin of her throat and he pressed his mouth to the pulse point and it leapt to his touch. “It’s yours.”

Her fingers played with the fine golden hair on the nape of his neck. She could see the bed reflected in the mirror.

“For tonight,” she whispered, kneading his shoulders. She knew he heard her, and he did not deny it.

“Who needs sleep anyway?” Tegan Jovanka asked the air. The alien in her arms chuckled and she turned his head to hers and kissed him until the rhythm of sex engaged all of body and thought.

The night could not be long enough.

(In the morning she sewed the button back on his shirt, her future self having provided a sewing kit.)


fin