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Judas sat at a pew in a private box in the auditorium of the Dom Suda, observing the audience as he waited. The box was indeed a privilege as Judas would most definitely stand out amongst the high brow aristocrats (of caucasian variety), many of whom had distaste toward two foreigners being so involved in their high court. Judas didn’t care for their judgement. Tonight, his handsome darling was the star of the show; the focus of Judas’ attention, as always.
The Doctor was to pitch his research in front of the Court of Nachtnebel. Among the room of elites, senators, generals, bishops and scholars, were all present at the hearing to pass a ruling of whether the Doctor’s research should be state officiated. In spite of the Doctor’s high regard from the Palace, the royal family's favour only offered him immunity from the law. If this ruling was passed, it would allow the Doctor complete freedom, all the resources of the nation. Nothing to stop him. No one to spit on him or tell him what he was doing was heretical.
Judas recalled, one month ago, when the Archbishop himself had come to the palace to make a great scene, babbling and whining that the Advisors had allowed the Antichrist in the form of a Frenchman to corrupt the royal court with his ‘hedonistic and blasphemous science’. Judas felt blessed to be involved in ‘negotiations’ in the depths of their basement, between the Doctor and the sorry churchman, that ended in a blur of red excitement. Since then, the church suddenly became far less opinionated, for some odd reason.
Nothing will stand in the way of progress, it seems.
Judas never felt particularly strongly towards progress or science, in truth. Sure being the Doctor’s assistant was great fun; all the sadomasochistic joys of teasing that man into chasing him around and sticking a scalpel inside his chest as foreplay. But Judas could never truly share in the Doctor’s passion, nor call himself a scientist. All the joy that came with science was through the Doctor. How could Judas not be totally hypnotised when it turned the Doctor into a wonder-filled child?
Still, Judas felt antsy, sitting in the closed hall of nobles and academics, all gossiping, speculating and philosophising, so Judas assumed silence. He could hardly wait. He hadn’t seen him since yesterday, working on separate sides of the capital.
“Greetings, gentlemen,” came that presumptuous voice, inciting tense silence in the great auditorium. The Doctor held an arrogant expression as he spoke rather rudely, eloquently talked down on these noblemen, presenting as if it was foolish to not grant him whatever he wanted.
Judas could not even begin to process the Doctor’s words when all he could so clearly see was everything that he lusted about his lover. The way his Adam's apple bobbed with every sentence, that pale neck, that stubbled jawline, a sinful sliver of his broad chest and collarbone; exposed as he hadn’t fully buttoned up. What a daring choice, Judas thought, so contrasting to these high collared elites, or perhaps (most likely), the Doctor didn’t care about professionalism. Nonetheless, all Judas could think about was the squish of those pectorals under his palms.
If only that dress shirt was unbuttoned fully; Judas could only wish. He was quite familiar with that striped shirt, having worn it more than a few times, mostly inside the mansion. He remembers the scent. Coppery and slightly musky. And a faint motor oil smell. Even then, Judas knew he was wearing a girdle under that shirt. How amusing, that a man so arrogant and indifferent to other’s perceptions deigned to alter his posture and silhouette. It made Judas feel special, romantic that only he could put hands on his plush stomach. He bit his index finger, contemplating gnawing it off, as his mind replayed the memory of licking down that scarred chest and torso to those sweet…
“BOLLOCKS! This nation is already aeons behind in industrial pursuits! My research is invaluable for the sake of this country! And if you fools don’t recognise that, feel free to fall with your motherland!”
The Doctor sat down, swinging one leg over the other, his boots resting on the podium. He looked petulant, bratty even. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his firm forearms, strengthened from years of mechanical labour. Judas would die happily if he suffocated in those arms. As the Doctor spoke, he seemed to emote with his whole body, not only was his face expressive, the movement of those long digits, gestured often to emphasise his words. Fingers, rough and calloused from tinkering, made Judas wipe the drool from his mouth. Those large hands that made him feel so wanted, yet all Judas wanted to do was bite.
Not to mention, his outfit allured Judas greatly. At his collar, he wore a dark purple necktie, gold embellishments down his buttons and a plush red velvet coat, which gleamed in the candlelight. The beaked skull perched neatly on his upper face concealing his eyes and scars. He certainly stood out next to men in dark or navy military uniforms. (He looked kinda gay).
Judas’s whole soul seemed to heat up as he recalled running his hands all over that body as he undressed the scientist with his gaze. There was an overwhelming desire to pour honey over his bare skin, to taste and kiss his sweetened skin.
Admittedly, (and obviously) Judas lost focus of what the Doctor was saying long ago. There were heated voices, and inevitable arguments at the court. Judas couldn’t assist the Doctor, even if he wanted to, being too wracked in desire to do anything. All he wanted was the Doctor to shut up and take him somewhere quiet. If he was bolder, he would have gotten up and dragged the Doctor by the necktie, but the only reason he stayed in his booth was that he knew how important this was.
The hearing ended with reluctant, yet significant applause, which snapped Judas out of his imagination. The result of the hearing was, in fact, predetermined a month ago; the clergyman being the only opposition, scared out of his wits to dare defy the infamous Il Dottore.
Judas hurriedly made his way down, to find the Doctor. He pushed past crowds of people, searching. Then he felt a hand slip into his, dragging him away.
Judas felt like his blood was pumping faster, as he indulged in the contact. His other hand tangled in the Doctor’s hair, drawing him close into a tight hug.
“There’s my handsome, intelligent Doctor. No one else can compete with you.” He smiled, grabbing the Doctor by the lapels and kissing him deeply. His lips were slightly chapped, but addictive regardless.
The Doctor was clearly dazed, words escaping him for a moment as his lips lingered. A quick chuckle brought him back as he pet Judas’ hair.
“Hahaha~! You’re certainly forward, today.” He blushed. “How did you find my proposal? Very convincing, wasn't it?”
“Mhm! Mhm!” Judas nodded eagerly, bringing the Doctor close yet again.
It might have been clingy but Judas considered the Doctor's attention the greatest blessing he has ever gotten. And he was ever greedy. He adored the sensation of being pressed up against the Doctor’s firmer body, loved feeling engulfed by the Doctor’s frame, loved the gentle, tentativeness of the Doctor’s awkward reciprocation.
His hands slipped under the Doctor’s waistcoat, feeling the soft expanse of his front and wrapping around his body. Judas pressed his palms flat against his strong back, feeling him up as much as he pleased. Judas squeezed him, as if wanting to merge their bodies together. The Doctor’s breath hitched at the pressure so he moved Judas’ hands, grasping them with his own.
“Wasn’t it appalling to hear that slimy Mayor propose we use hydrogen to fuel ships?” The Doctor asked, expectantly.
“Ahaha! My~ How could anyone think of something so outdated!! Ahaha! Ahaha! Give me another kiss—”
The Doctor promptly shoved Judas away and they stood face to face.
“That was MY proposal, you moron!” he growled. “Do you believe my ideas are outdated?! Or am I right in assuming you were away with the fairies?”
“Oops?” Judas felt both guilt and amusement as he looked up at the Doctor’s offended face.
“Not a single word of that presentation got to your head, did it?” He glared, almost like an exasperated mother. “I predicted it when I saw your blank face in the audience. ”
Even as he continued to scold him, Judas was more interested in how his face and hands moved as he talked. His sharp teeth were more visible when he was angry. His cheeks were still flushed from the kiss.
“You are still not listening, dammit!” The Doctor yelled. “What kind of halfwit willingly ignores the genius sentiments I have for the sake of ogling?!”
“I can't help it… It's too difficult.” Judas said, hopelessly.
The Doctor crossed his arms, irritated yet still interested to hear whatever bullshit Judas was going to say.
“I’m too utterly enamoured by you, my love!” Judas exclaimed, dropping to his knees, as if in agony. “How do you expect me to focus on both your words and your good looks? My puny, little brain can't multitask! How can I focus on anything more than the delicious man in front of me?”
The Doctor stared at Judas for an unsettlingly long amount of time in complete silence, observing him like he was a new specimen growing in a falcon tube. Judas’ chest felt tight, unsure of how the Doctor would respond. He knew the Doctor could easily be swayed by praise and appreciation, but he could just as easily have a meltdown, especially if he felt anything less than the most intelligent man in the room. It had taken an unbearable amount of time for Judas to lower the Doctor’s guard enough for him to be comfortable enough to remove his mask around him, and it would be devastating to reverse that trust.
Judas’ heart skipped a beat as the Doctor extended his gloved hand toward his kneeling form.
“Look at me.” The Doctor pinched Judas’s chin, tilting his head up to let dark brown meet crimson eyes, sharp, and full of weight. Looking up at him from this knelt position felt almost like worship.
“You’re one of my favourite lab assistants. Aren't you happy?” The Doctor’s voice was low, his thumb running over Judas’ bottom lip.
Judas’ opened his mouth to speak but was stopped as the Doctor’s index finger pressed against his lips to shush him.
“You should be. A happy subject makes a happy doctor. And I’d be much happier if you made the most of your potential and honed that wonderful brain,” the Doctor said sternly. “There’s a lot more to you than that pretty face, Judas. Do not undermine yourself.”
Judas stood, averting his eyes and dusting his uniform.
“I’ll take notes next time then. I promise,” he said meekly.
The Doctor’s eyes scanned over his face for a final moment of observation and he stepped ahead of him.
“Good! The carriage is waiting outside for us. My splendid pitch has put me in a certain good mood. Let's hope the driver isn't too nosy. Ahaha~ How delightful!”
Judas made sure to hold onto every word the Doctor said in that carriage.