Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The true wonder of working within the Fatui's center of research was how absolutely barren the cafeteria was. Several long tables placed in the spacious area, clean and devoid of even a crumb. The white tile of the floor echoed with each footstep, a sound that would normally be softened by the gentle roar of conversations, clatter of trays and hum of vending machines. Slightly less than half of the florescent bulbs overhead were able to be illuminated at this point. Whether that was due intentionally or simply from disrepair was not known. The room was bathed in a cold, faintly blue glow from the one vending machine that still had some life to it. 

The machine itself was not spectacular. It hummed quietly and would only sometimes make a crackling sound as it's light flickered on and off for a second or two. The vending machine was filled with standard order 'Nourishment Supplements'. Or as the field operatives called it, 'the paste'. In truth, it was a nutritional formula developed some time ago to provide needed protein and energy to those stationed on any desolate speck of the world. At some point, these rations became the norm and became the only available 'food' left in the central hub. It was simple, tasted of practically nothing and had a decent enough texture.

However, it was the last thing you wanted to eat in that moment. You had spent more time bouncing between labs than your own quarters lately. In doing so, true meals had become seldom. And the meals that you were able to craft in whatever free time that wasn't being spent sleeping...well. It was food. Not the most nutritional but filling at the very least. But the human body needs more than just what's necessary. It needs flavor. Texture. Something substantial.

Returning to your own quarters to whip up another bowl of noodles was unfortunately not an option. The centrifuge only needed about fifteen minutes, and leaving it unattended for too long past that could hinder results. So with a determined huff, you press the weathered button on the vending machine and within seconds a fresh package of nutrition paste was in your hands.

The plastic cover was ripped off and tossed away. The paste already devoured by the time the lid fully landed in the trashcan. The rest of the packaging then joined it's former brethren in the trash. 

“Do you not savor your food?”, a voice asked.

Turning away from the vending machine, you see The Doctor standing in the doorway, as if paused when he saw you were inside. While you had put in more overtime than anyone should be doing...he had done what seemed like triple the time. He was unperturbed by things that normal humans faced in long work hours; hunger, fatigue, stiffness. But even Prime himself couldn't stave it off forever. His lab coat had been abandoned somewhere along his workstation. His dark blue dress shirt held folds and wrinkles like a physical manifestation of his stress. His hair held an odd shape caused by a gloved hand repeatedly smoothing it back with impatience. 

“There's nothing to savor with this stuff. Doesn't even taste like anything.”, you say. “and I'm sorry to say that I'm not prim and proper enough to sit and eat it with a spoon.”

“Next you're going to tell me that you don't even extend your pinky when drinking tea”, he responded with a dry, amused hum. Having spent the last few years working alongside such an ...eccentric being, you had grown accustomed to his proclivity to tease. Small jabs here and there just to keep you on your toes. Early on in your tenure here, his comments were more cold. Abrasive. Often felt like he thought you were nothing but either a fool or simply a complicent worker bee. 

“Since when have you ever seen me drink tea?”, you quip back with a matching smirk. His response was a faint 'ah'. His head tilted down briefly as he stepped further into the cafeteria space, his grin widening as if recalling a funny joke. 

“I seem to possess a recollection concerning a very particular assistant that spilled a sickeningly sweet tea mixture all across my poor laboratory floor.”

“Hey! That wasn't my fault. I sneezed too hard and the momentum caused my torso to bend over which caused the tea mug to tilt enough to spill.”

“Really? You're blaming it on a sneeze?”

“I pulled a muscle from a sneeze once.” you voiced with a faint whine. “Hey wait, how did you know the tea was really sweet? You didn't lick it off the floor while I went to get the mop, did you?”

”Outrageous”, he grimaced. “No, but it reeked of honey. If not for the overwhelming aroma of mint, I'd have sworn it was simply a mug of heated sugar.”

As he stepped closer, it became even more apparent that he was running himself ragged. Though his mask was still hiding the upper portion of his face, the sheer aura of exhaustion was palpable. The lingering smile on your face from the playful back and forth faded somewhat. 

“You look like shit, Prime”, you voiced bluntly. You could feel the force of his glare while being thankfully spared by the mask.

“Shall I give you a hands on demonstration of how quickly I could have your appendix in the palm of my hand?” He spoke with a rough drone. No real fight in his tone, just voicing hollow threats. At least, you hoped it was just hollow and held no real merit of ever happening for real. 

“Hands on training? Golly Doctor, how much extra does that cost?”, you sarcastically respond before your tone grew more serious. “No really, Prime. I think maybe you've pushed yourself past your limits. You should get some rest.”

“Limits? You'd do best to think before you speak, assistant”. Frustration laced his words. Just enough to make you more wary and decide to refrain from being a little shit for a short while. 

“Look, I'm not going to belittle you for needing a break. And there's not really anyone else currently working in this facility to do it either.”

Besides, an old man like you needs a nap every now and then, you think but don't voice. 

And just like Dottore, he didn't accept that suggestion. You heard the sound of the door opening and shutting as you went to check on the centrifuge. Without the hum of the machine, you could just faintly pick up the sound of his heel tapping down the corridor. Figuring he was doing the rounds to check in on the various other smaller labs sprinkled throughout the facility, you simply got back to work. It was about half an hour later when you finally heard him return.

“Assistant.”

Your head snapped to his direction to see him standing with a large plastic bag in one hand. The bag was just sheer enough to show that it held two white styrofoam takeout containers. In his other hand was a drink carrier with two drinks. Before he stepped away, he gave a gentle tilt of his head, motioning towards the cafeteria. 

Seeing the second harbinger pick a random seat amongst the sea of empty tables was an almost unnerving sight. Instead of just choosing one of the closest seats, he walked all the way around the length to sit on the other side. The side facing you. He held out a single hand with the palm upwards, clearly gesturing for you to take the seat across from him. 

“...you actually eat food?”, you ask as you sit down. “I've worked for you for how many years now? And I've never seen you do more than drink water.”

“Hah”, his hands dug into the bag to pull out each container. He placed the first one down in front of you without opening to check it, then slid over one of the drinks. “then allow this to be the first experience.”

You could smell the food even before you opened it. The fragrant spices permeated the cafeteria, overwriting the usual scent of sterilizer. Inside was a potato boat, fish and even a small portion of biryani. These were Sumerian dishes. 

“You walked all the way down the street to get this? There's like four places before you even reach that one”. Not that you minded. Your fork was already stabbing in to the potato. “I get it though. It's comforting food.”

“I allow myself to indulge memories from time to time.” He had already began eating, his order the same as yours. “...and perhaps I don't mind sharing such indulgences with a trusted party.”

“A trusted party? Is that all I am? Tch, makes me sound like business partner in a firm.”

“And what would your preference be in its place?”, he said before taking a bite from his fork. “Shall I think of you as merely an assistant? That's rather sterile, isn't it? A confidante? That sounds almost scandalous.”

“My preference is that maybe sometimes you stop hiding behind cryptic or overly eloquent language to downplay you showing human mannerisms.”

This seemed to give The Doctor pause. Or perhaps he was simply savoring his food. The angle of his head made it hard to tell if he was staring at you or staring off into the distance. This pose of his often caused your pulse to increase with unease. Schrodinger's Dottore. Was he or wasn't he planning your demise? Or was he simply zoning out. 

“I find myself increasingly motivated to...share with you.”, he finally said after a pregnant pause. “An irrational impulse that I struggle to ignore.” He fell quiet again after speaking. The next few moments were filled with the both of you silently eating. You didn't exactly know how to process his response. Now that you thought about it, he had been increasingly willing to open up. About small things. Inconsequential details. 

But you had yet to really do the same. While conversing with the harbinger had become second nature...actually sharing personal details was another matter. He was fine enough to work beside. But there were still some lingering self preservation that internally warned you of getting too close for fear of what he was capable of. Of what he had jokingly threatened. If those even were jokes. 

And yet, you couldn't deny that seeming him make an attempt diluted that fear. 

“...this is really good”, you say to break the silence that had spread between you. “It's not too heavy on cumin. I hate cumin. I think I have a genetic disposition that causes the flavor to taste like soapy rust.”

Your eyes briefly flickered up towards his masked face as if you could actually make eye contact. But again, the way he straightened his head towards you made it feel like a target being painted between your eyes. 

“I hate cilantro”, he said as his gaze eventually dropped down towards his food before he went back to eating. And you took it for what it was, acknowledgment that you had joined in on the impulse to share. A building sense of camaraderie. 

Camaraderie that already led to him making less cruel threats. Threatening to only remove organs that weren't necessary for living. Pancreas traded for the appendix. The threat of the monster traded for the reluctant patience of the man underneath it all. 

How much longer til he finally admits out loud that he actually likes having you around?

You lift your drink to take a sip, and you stick your pinky out. 

Chapter Text

The touchpad hummed faintly underneath your fingertips as you held your palm in place. Just a small reminder of the power that always surrounded you in this facility. The main doors opened with a hiss as the touchpad illuminated a welcoming green light. You honestly didn't see the point in such security measures at this point. Not like anyone actually wanted to visit one of the current labs of The Doctor. At first, the train of thought behind such lengths made enough sense. The walls within practically sang with untold heresies and forbidden knowledge. Not to mention sacrilegious acts a plenty. 

Perhaps a part of you still felt trepidation about surrounding yourself with such things. As a student of the Akademiya in your past, it should have made your skin crawl to work side by side with someone like him. Old forgotten oaths and lingering papercuts on your fingers was all that was left of those years. It seemed like every lesson you ever received was being overwritten by him. As if the old teachers and Sages did nothing more than fill your head with half stories and misleading anecdotes. 

But there were no gilded tales as far as Dottore was concerned. While acting as a sort of diplomat in public settings, he spoke with a refined elegance. The ease of a snake persuading the innocent to take a bite of the unknown. But here? Within the depths of this sterile kingdom of his own, such niceties were left on the doormat. He could be abrasive, yes. Blunt. But always straight to the point. And you found an odd comfort in what others saw as 'cold' or 'arrogant'. 

That is, until the last few months. That status quo had been kept up with regularly like clockwork. Until...it wasn't. Lately he acted differently with you. Dottore seemed to pause before speaking to you as if he needed more time to formulate his sentences. He had become more prone to lingering in the same part of the lab as you. Never crossing any bounds or getting closer than six feet unless necessary...and yet there. When it first started, he would simply exist in the space with you. But as time went on, he would indulge in short conversations. It began with questions about reports or status updates with current simulations you oversaw. 

But lately it had even blended into more. He offered small snippets of his life before you joined his side as his most trusted assistant. Complaints of past aides and assistants and how they had disappointed him. Past tales of viewing the ruins of Sumeru. Of  his various research topics over the centuries. 

And then, within just the past month, the gifts started. The first had been a fragment of a ruin golem. A cracked piece of it's core with some of the metal still attached. It looked like the golden shard of the core had been polished to have some sort of shine while the metal had been cleared of at least most of the rust.  The second gift had been a pristinely cleaned skull of a bird of some sort. You weren't exactly well versed in birds, but it seemed to be a type of corvid. Both gifts had simply been left on the desk you last used, as if left overnight for you to find in the morning. 

The third gift had been hand delivered by him. A perfectly preserved sea butterfly sealed within a containment jar. It seemed to be swimming around in primordial sea water and its flesh was iridescent. The Doctor had mumbled something about the creature originating from the waters of Fontaine and the specific region before he awkwardly dismissed himself. 

When you stepped inside the lab today you noticed that there was something new left on your current workstation. A fourth gift. A pair of black gloves with blue palms that were closer to your size than his. And yet, they matched his almost perfectly. 

“How do they fit?”, Dottore asked as he approached from one of the auxiliary labs. His hands were clasped behind his back as he stepped a little closer as if to inspect their fit himself. You put them on and held out your hands to show him. He let out something like a soft hum and gave a single nod to show he was satisfied.

“Wonderful. Now, let's have you break them in, shall we?” His arm swept out from his side to gesture for you to follow him to the lab he had just exited. Seems he had something planned for you to work on today already. 

Inside this secondary lab, you immediately noticed that the overhead lights were dimmed, leaving only the harsh lights that hung above one of the examination tables fully illuminated. It cast the room in ominous shadows that was only made worse by the cadaver that was laid out on the table. An unmistakable guiding light that signaled to you exactly where you were meant to go. 

As you approached the operating table, your steps faltered for a moment. This wasn't just another standard cadaver from a failed experiment or taken from a battlefield. 

It was one of his segments.

Motionless and very much deactivated. Mask still firmly in place over the face but the rest of the clothing had been disposed of. A sheet pulled up to cover his privates in a show of respect for the deceased deactivated. It was haunting to see a version of Dottore so close to the age of the current man that stood at your side laying rigid on the table. Markings had already been drawn across the flesh of the segment, like arrows on how to begin the process of slicing him open. 

Dottore slid over a rolling tray with tools already prepared for you. He lifted a scalpel to pass it to you as if he were handing a sword to a knight. 

“You...want me to perform an autopsy on ...a segment?”, you asked him as you turned to look at him with pure curiosity lacing your tone. As well as hesitation and something akin to reluctance. “You already know what happened to him, so why bother?”

He chuckled lowly and stepped in a little closer to you. “For knowledge, dear assistant. What else? A scholar doesn't turn down a learning opportunity, especially one that is so...hands on.”

In all of your time working alongside him, you'd never been the one with the scalpel in hand. You'd stood at his side and watched him work. Handed him tools as he dissected. But never been the one to make the cut. Your gloved hands were held out in front of you as your mind raced with where or how to start. Even though you'd seen Dottore start and finish dissections many a time...you felt lost and uncertain. Especially since you could feel his gaze on you. 

You flinched somewhat as Dottore stepped behind you. His arms reaching around you and his own gloved hands taking both of yours to guide you. You could feel his warmth behind you, even the material of his clothes against your back. If you focused hard enough, you could feel his breath on your neck as he leaned in. You'd never been this close to him before. 

“Allow me to provide you with guidance this time.” Gods, his voice was so close to your ear. He spoke more softly due to the proximity. His hand led the way for your hand to make the initial incision from the top of the sternum all the way down to the upper abdomen. Not much blood appeared from the first cut, but the sight of the artificial fluid unsettled you. It felt wrong to slice into a version of him. 

His hands were firm and steady around yours as he began the autopsy. The sternum and ribs were cut to more fully open the chest cavity of the segment. Odd, you could already notice some discrepancies between this body and other human bodies you'd seen on this table. Granted, segments weren't entirely human and you knew that before this little lesson began, but seeing it firsthand was different entirely. The blood pooled in bizarre ways, veins not exactly where they needed to be, not to mention the sheer amount of artificially crafted organs scattered throughout. 

“Now that the thoracic cavity as been opened, now we can move on with identifying the arteries..”, he explained to you all the while his hands remained leading you. He was talking you through it the entire time. “Yes, you're doing so good.”

However, after you successfully got the arteries out of the way...something caught your eye on the artificial heart. Right over where the left atrium would be...was writing on the heart. 

Your name.

Your name carved into the very heart of this segment. 

Your hands froze in his hold, the scalpel slipping from your grip. You heard him hum softly as he felt your realization like a shockwave through your frame. His gloved hands slipped up your arms to your shoulders. 

“I see you noticed, finally. Took you long enough.” He leaned into you further, his tone remaining casual as if you had just found a prank waiting for you. 

“Why do this?”, you managed to ask when you found the ability to form words. But he had already answered that question earlier, didn't he? Knowledge. Your eyes couldn't look away from the sight. You had heard gossip before about how sadistic The Doctor could be with his assistants but this? This was something else entirely. This hadn't been done as a sick joke to get a rise out of you. It had felt far too intimate to dig into the chest cavity of a body that bore the exact resemblance of Dottore.

This was a statement. 

The last few months of close proximity and small gifts left on table tops accumulated to a theory you had to voice to verify. But he began to speak before you could.

“I'll be the first to admit that emotions have never come easily to me. They're a distraction. Messy. Lead to only disaster and ruin in weaker creatures that can't suppress their need to act before being rational.” His hands gradually traveled down from your shoulders down your sides. A slow pace, more grounding than exploratory.  “And yet, even I find myself unable to ignore this variable. You, in your time with me, have provided a perspective that I hadn't received. That of... companionship, shall we say. An ally. Someone who...stayed.”

Those last words sounded weighted. As if they had been waiting to be spoken for so long. The hands on your sides settled onto your waist. His palms were warm and could be felt even through the various layers of clothing. Or perhaps it was simply your skin reacting to his touch. 

“You have left a permanent etching upon me. One that I hold no desire to attempt to scrub away.“

His face came in closer, the two of you almost cheek to cheek now. His breath ghosted across the shell of your ear as you felt him inhale before speaking again. 

“I can only generate a hesitant hope that I have left my own brand upon you.” A whisper. A touch of his lip on your ear that made your skin prickle with goosebumps. “I've granted you miniscule offerings. Trinkets. The sharing of past moments that are customary with the beginning stages of courting. But I came to a realization. And that was that I can never court you like a normal man. It would never seem... genuine enough. And what's more genuine than offering you to grasp my heart with your own hand. All I had to do was give you the key and lead you to the door. The question that remains is whether or not you will step inside the door that I've opened for you.”

“That depends”, you respond, your face turning to the side just enough to catch sight of him in more than just your peripheral.

“Oh? Go on.”

“Is opening the door meant to be seen as an invitation to step inside?”, you ask as your eyes roam over the mask that covers his eyes from your view. “Or is it merely a ruse to dump a bucket of water on my head the second I take a single step inside?”

“Oh, I assure you. If you choose to come inside that you will be very well taken care of. Like the most honored guest that you are.” His voice held a gentle warmth that was new but not unwelcome. His touched maneuvered you to turn to face him more properly. “However, know that once you step inside, finding your way back out will prove to be most...impossible.”

Chapter Text

The lab's atmosphere felt noticeably different as you stepped inside after your lunch. The machinery hummed a little softer. The lights didn't seem as harsh as usual, as if someone had dimmed them. Days like this didn't happen often, but enough that you felt like you grasped the rhythm they held. An experiment concludes early in the afternoon and usually Dottore would bid you farewell for the rest of the day as a sort of celebration for a job well done. Or the man would bid you farewell for the day so that you didn't become a target for his frustration if the experiment was a failure. 

But today's experiment had been a resounding success... so why had he requested you to return to the lab after a meal? He had even stated clearly to go out of the facility and eat a real meal, not simply dine on nutrient paste from the cafeteria. It wasn't like him to want to start a new experiment so soon after the other one. Or, maybe, he actually wanted to celebrate this little victory. That didn't exactly sound like something he would do.

Approaching his desk, you found two things out of place. A cup of water with a sticky note next to it labeled 'Drink'. And another note that read 'After drinking all of the water proceed to the restroom and change into the provided gown and only the gown. I will be waiting in room twelve for you.'

A gown? Okay, what did he have planned this time?

You downed the water in a few quick gulps before stepping into the small and sterile restroom. On the counter was a folded gray medical gown. You had been down this path only a handful of times with The Doctor. Working as his assistant didn't exactly make you immune to becoming a test subject from time to time. Not that he ever did anything too permanent or traumatizing to you. Well, as long as you stayed in line, anyways. You'd heard stories of what happened to past assistants. And you certainly hoped you weren't going to be turned into an automaton this evening.

But being prepared for an upcoming new experiment wasn't exactly the same as the embarrassing walk through the facility while wearing nothing but the flimsy hospital style gown. You had tied it to the best of your ability but you could still feel a draft along your upper back. Your feet felt cold against the cold tile of the floor. If he had allowed others to be present within his lab this act would have felt like a ritual in humiliation. 

The door to room twelve had been left open, filling the hallway with a warm glow. The lights were immediately dimmed upon your entrance to the room. Dottore was seated on a stool next to the examination table in the center of the room. His back was towards you at first. You couldn't quite see what he was fiddling with but he seemed to sense you lingering behind him. 

“Come. Sit.”, he said simply, one gloved hand patting the examination table. The usual cold material had been covered in a large thick towel that felt warm to the touch as you settled in place. His masked face turned towards you and tilted down just a little to let you know he was appraising your appearance.

“Hm.”, he hummed to himself as he pondered. He slowly worked off one of his gloves. “On second thought, remove the gown.” He tossed his glove to a nearby table where it would be out of the way. His tone had held an air of casual finality. 

“You...want me nude?”, you asked, verifying his intention before attempting to untie the messy knots behind you. 

“Yes. I believe a removal of all barriers will be needed for this experiment.” Cold. Clinical. As if that could remove the nervous tension that you felt at the idea of being completely exposed before your boss. 

He stood from the stool with a feline-like grace as he reached out to close the door as if anyone else would even dare to come this far back in to the facility. While he remained inside, he didn't gander at you while you disrobed. If anything, he was theatrically keeping his attention anywhere else as if he too were embarrassed by the exposure. He attempted to appear nonchalant by wiping off a counter, straightening some papers and checking connections to a device that wasn't even plugged in. 

You pulled off the gown and awkwardly crumpled it into a small ball, unsure of where to put it before plopping it into a chair near the table. 

“Go ahead and lay down for me, assistant.” His back was once again towards you as he tinkered with the thermostat on the wall that controlled the temperature in this room. The heating system kicked on a moment later, a warmth spreading across your form from the vents on the ceiling. 

Once laying down, the overhead lights were flipped off so that you weren't blinded. The only lights illuminating the room now came from small lamps on the counters and auxiliary lights from various machines and monitors spread throughout. It was atmospheric in a strange way. 

“I understand this is...unconventional but I must inquire nonetheless. Are you comfortable enough?”, he asked as he finally turned towards you. ”Cold? Is the examination bench uncomfortable? I estimate that you will be laying there from anywhere between ten to upwards of forty minutes.“

“It's fine”, you mumbled, wishing he would just explain what all of this was about already so you could stop focusing on the feeling of his eyes taking in your naked form. 

“Speak now. I will not have your complacency skewing the results.”, he voiced with a hint of annoyance. “This will be a moderately invasive procedure and thus your comfort is to be at it's highest possible level for the best outcome.“

“Fine. A pillow would be nice”

He turned and opened a lower cabinet and retrieved two pristine white pillows. He tucked one pillow underneath your head.

“Lift your hips for me.” A soft command followed by a sharp gaze as you hesitated. When you lifted your hips into the air, he quickly shoved the pillow underneath you. When you settled back down, the new pillow made your legs easily begin to part. 

“Adjust to your own comfort when needed”, he said. His mask pointed towards your face for a moment...though you could feel his gaze lingering anywhere but your face. 

“Please tell me we've reached the part of the experiment where you brief me on at least some of the details of what's going on.”

He smirked at your question and turned away to sit back down on the stool from before. He wheeled over towards you, bringing with him a rolling table with a device stationed on top of it. It didn't look too different from standard medical equipment that measured vitals like blood pressure or heart stats. His hands began to unfurl thin wires that were connected to the monitoring device. He worked with one glove on and one glove off strangely. 

“Consider this to be a study on the phenomenon of elation.”

“Elation?”, you asked as he began to attach the first electrode on your left temple. 

“Indeed. Findings from conducting this research on myself was found to be inconclusive. It lacked the variable of another party present. Generally speaking, you are perhaps the most accustomed to my company, so you were at the top of the list of potential subjects. However, I hope you'll find this to be well worth your time.”

You now had an electrode attached to both temples and he held a third one towards you. 

“For this exercise I will need your full consent. I will be touching you in various places along your body including genitals. Insertion is probable but not entirely necessary. Do you give me permission?” He held the third electrode towards you but seemed to be waiting for your confirmation before placing it.

“Insertion where? With what?”, you asked. His response was a wolfish grin. A silent but an obvious enough answer for you. You nodded your consent, but he gave a single shake of his head and his hand dropped slightly.

“Ah-ah, verbally please. Use your words, assistant.”

“Fine. I give you permission to proceed.”

And with that, the third electrode was placed on your chest, his fingers just barely brushing against your skin with a lingering effect. Soon, you were dotted with several electrodes meant for measuring both heart data and brain data. 

To conclude the setup for the procedure, Dottore placed a small clear bottle on the table within your reach. Skin safe lubricant. He turned on a small recording device he kept with him to record various findings.

“Beginning session two of the review on elation and it's effects on the human form. Conducting the session with me today is test subject alpha. Test subject alpha, be a dear and state your name and date of birth for me.”

You dictated your name and the required date for the recording with a somewhat shaky voice. It was hard to remain confident in such circumstances. 

“Very good. Let's begin, shall we? Test subject alpha, for phase one you will be asked to manually bring yourself to an orgasm. You may use any technique you prefer and of course the provided lubrication if needed. I will be monitoring but not intervening until phase one has concluded. Do you understand?”

Masturbate. Masturbate in front of Dottore where he can see every inch of you...including how it affects your brain and heart. Your readings must already be fluctuating wildly.

“...I understand.”

“Excellent. Begin when ready, my dear.”

For a moment or two...you simply stared up at the lighting fixture that hung overhead. This felt degrading and humiliating. Even more so than simply padding through the facility in a flimsy gown. But soon your hand trailed down as you exhaled slowly. But of course, your body was nowhere near ready for such activity. Not with the way your nerves ruled your brainpower currently. 

You glanced in Dottore's direction for a moment. He sat on the stool, one leg crossed over the other. He didn't speak, but his head inclined towards the table near you. A silent reminder of the lube he offered. Clearly he understood the human body enough to know that masturbation couldn't just happen on a whim in front of the 2nd Harbinger out of the blue. 

You snagged the bottle and gathered a few drops on your finger tips. It felt warm but offered no other effects that could potentially alter whatever results he was hoping to achieve. Your hand dipped back down, coating your flesh in the clear oil and closed your eyes. Perhaps if you pretended he wasn't there watching it wouldn't be so bad. 

But Celestia help you...that's all you could think about. His eyes under that damn mask following each of your movements. Watching the way your hand so easily found the pattern and pace that felt like second nature. Was he analyzing how you liked to be touched? Processing just the right pressure to put?

Your legs shifted just slightly as the pleasure actually began to ramp up within you. You kept quiet, finding it too awkward to fill the silence of the room around you. But your breathing would be obvious enough on it's own to show how much you were being affected. The lubrication made it effortless for your fingers to glide. 

A slightly strangled moan left you as the cresting pleasure gave way to a release. Your heels digging into the towel underneath as your body was filled with a taste of familiar bliss and your back arched. Your breaths were heavy as you fell into a soft afterglow. You nearly jumped as Dottore spoke, nearly forgetting that he was actually there the whole time. 

“Phase one concluded. I'm so very proud of you.”, he said as he wrote down some of the readings from the monitor before he repeated them back verbally to dictate them for the recording. Though you weren't focused on the numbers and decimal readings currently. You couldn't believe that you had actually done that in front of him. 

“Phase two of the session will commence soon. Test subject alpha, please state for myself and the documentation if you wish to have a small intermission before we begin.”

“No, I'm okay. I just need a moment to clean myself.”

“Done.”, he said as he gently tossed a warm, damp cloth onto your stomach. You hastily wiped away the evidence of your deed from phase one. 

“For phase two, you will be asked to once again reach an orgasm. However, for this phase, I will be the one administering all touch. Do you understand?”

Oh Gods. 

“...I understand.” Your voice sounded more shaky. You heard the slight creak of the stool as he stood and approached the table where you lay. 

“No need to fret, assistant. You hold the power to end phase two at any point. Though I strongly suggest you see it through.”

Once again you could feel his gaze through the mask as he obviously took in your appearance.

“Let it be stated for the record that after the commencement of phase one that test subject alpha's physical appearance has minuscule changes. Increased blood flow in face, chest as well as genitals. Slight glossiness to the eyes. Pupil dilation. Light perspiration. “

Dottore paused his dictating to further roll up his shirt sleeves before he let out an amused huff. 

“Looks like the lubricant won't be necessary this time. Your body is already nice and ready for me, isn't it?” His voice didn't need to sound so indulgent about it. It was softer as well, as if those words didn't need to be heard by the recording. 

“Now, would you prefer this procedure to retain a sense of sterility?” His gloved hand drifted across your thigh, just above your knee. “Or...” His bare hand came to very lightly brush across your cheek with the back of his fingers. “...do the results need a more human touch for the properties of elation to be felt?”

“Gloves off. Please.” You answered that question perhaps a little too quickly. A little too eagerly. You'd blame it on the lingering haze from your previous orgasm. You'd never actually admit that you craved the feeling of his bare hands on you. 

His remaining glove was soon carelessly tossed onto the table with it's mate. He paused a moment to shift his mask, giving you a view of his bare hand. His nails were clipped short and clean. Faint scars could just barely be seen crisscrossing across the back of his hand and knuckles. 

“Let's get this started, yes?”, he said softly as he leaned over you. His hand wasted no time in drifting down between your legs. He had indeed been studying the way you touched yourself. After just a moment of his warm hand experimentally tracing along your sex, he began to repeat what you had just finished doing. He started slow, almost painfully slow. His face hovering over you, studying each and every reaction. His free hand drifted across your chest, fingertips curiously plucking a nipple. 

It was harder to remain quiet during phase two. A lifetime of touching yourself had made it easy to remain silent. But only when it was your hand performing the act. But this was Dottore touching you. Stroking you. Touching the most private parts of your body as if they belonged to him. 

“I couldn't help but notice...” he began to say, his voice dipping down into a low and velvety tone. “..that during phase one...you didn't insert any fingers inside. Is it simply not necessary for you...or does it not provide enough...elation.”

But instead of waiting for you to find the right words to answer him, he pressed a single finger inside. Your breath was sharp and quick at the intrusion. Not facing immediate protest, he added a second finger and began a gentle pace in and out. 

“Oh, but look at you”, he purred. “A few fingers pumping into you and you're melting.”

The little sounds and noises you had been making before had ramped up. Growing faster and needier in pitch. His long fingers so easily reached deep parts of you. Just fast and hard enough to make your mind shut off for a moment and just feel good. 

“Ah, but what about this spot right here?”, his fingers curled into you, rubbing against a sensitive bundle nestled deep within you. “Oh yes, it's so good, isn't it? Just makes that pretty little head of yours go numb, doesn't it? You know, I treasure you for that brilliant brain of yours...but right now...just let all of that go. All you have to be for me right now is a needy little mess that loves getting finger fucked by me. You love it, don't you?”

His dirty talk would be your undoing. You were mindlessly nodding along with him. You were needy. You were loving this. Your hips were bucking against his hand, seeking more. And he delivered. A third finger slipped in, easily stretching your hole just a little. Just enough to feel your body have to accommodate him. 

“So desperate for me”, Dottore cooed. “You're going to be good and cum for me, aren't you? You love making me proud of my favorite assistant, don't you? Then fall for me. I'll catch you...all you have to do is let go and give in to me.”

It was just within your grasp. Your body was already growing more taut and trembling. Pulsing with a pleasurable energy that ebbed within you. 

He leaned down a little further to get closer to your ear. His lips just barely brushed across the shell of your ear as he spoke. “You're doing so good. All you need to do is cum for me now. I've got you...just let go”.

His whispers pulled you straight into your second orgasm. Like a venom that coursed through your veins. Head tipping back and legs trembling. His fingers still pumping, prolonging the pleasure to stretch it out as long as he could before he slowed it down to ease you back down to earth with him.

You could have sworn you felt his lips press against the side of your face in a chaste kiss before he pulled back. His fingers withdrew and he quickly wiped them clean with a fresh cloth. You were left floating in an even more disorienting afterglow. You could just barely hear him dictating to the recording again.

“Phase two concluded. Test subject alpha showed much stronger readings when administered touch as compared to self performance. More study is to be done to confirm whether this correlates to...” His words trailed off as your mind fell into a soft and sleepy space. It wasn't often you reached two releases so close to each other and it left you drowsy. 

Chapter Text

To say that this nation was terminally cold would be an understatement. But even so, the snow would fall gently every so often. It felt like a gentle break from the harsh blizzards that froze the land with a harsh cruelty that no one would withstand. This snow was powdery and lifted easily with the wind. It swirled around your feet as you walked down the path away from the facility that housed the main lab. 

The day was over. Work put aside until the next day and the evening left open to whatever you wanted to do. And like usual after particularly stressful evenings, you found yourself gravitating towards the center of warmth in the nearby town. The tavern. It didn't exactly stand out amongst the rest of the town in appearance, but it's noise and warmth were unmatched. The tavern was a safe haven for Fatui and non-Fatui alike. The sort of place where everyone put their allegiances aside for a pint or quick meal while they warmed their fingers by the fire. 

Opening the door unleashed the cacophony of senses that awaited inside. The crackling of the large fireplace that offered just as much light as it did warmth. The laughter and conversations that hung over the patrons like a thick fog. Someone somewhere inside played a fiddle. A jaunty, happy tune to help those inside forget about the frontlines.

It was almost a practiced move at this point to slip into a stool at the end of the bar. Out of the way to avoid most drunken arguments and yet still within the line of site of the barkeep to keep your glass full. Plus having a wall to lean against was nice.

However, tonight, someone else occupied your usual spot. Not that you immediately minded. It was a friendly face after all. The man already took notice of your approach and flashed his usual smile your way, beckoning you over as if you would sit anywhere else.

Even though many an evening these past few weeks had been spent drinking and eating by his side... you unfortunately never caught his name. Maybe it was Evan? Escher? Ever? Whatever. He was nice and he did a pretty good job of making sure that no one bothered you.

He looked a little older than you, but not too old. Maybe about three or five years older. Dark hair that was hard to tell in the dim lighting of the bar if it was brown or simply black. His manner of dress told you that he worked within the Fatui. A pyro agent, though his hood was always down and mask set aside. A silent sign that he wasn't here to collect dues from any of the patrons nestled inside.  He had told you once that he rather liked sitting with you since you were one of the few that weren't bothered by his status as a feared debt collector. Being close with The Doctor left that fear behind for you.

He had already ordered a drink for you and had it waiting next to him this particular evening. You sat down next to him and took a sip from it, savoring the way the alcohol warmed you.

“You look like you had a hard day”, he commented as he watched you down a little more than just a polite sip. You noticed that in front of him, his own drink was already more than half finished. 

“It's just stress”, you replied. Not that it was completely a lie. Just vague enough to not warrant any prying into what had really been driving you mad. 

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

And just like that, the first glass was finished. You pushed it aside and leaned onto the smooth polished countertop of the bar. You had said that you didn't feel like talking...but with liquor in your system, you found yourself rambling.

“What if I told you that I like a guy that I shouldn't like?”

He snorted slightly, shaking his head as he took a gulp of his drink. “Sounds like a you problem. Why does it have you so bent out of shape?”

Your head was getting fuzzy from the drink already. Usually you weren't such a lightweight, but perhaps with all the added stress...it couldn't be helped. You found yourself more open with your thoughts. After all, he was a friend, wasn't he? Surely he'd understand. 

“I'm really into him. Like really into him. And we've...fooled around, I guess you can say. But...I don't know...”

“You think he doesn't have any real feelings for you? Like a one-sided kind of thing?”

“Yeah”. That actually summed it all up pretty well. It was hard to imagine that Dottore held any sort of real feelings for you beyond your usefulness to him. And perhaps your company during those faint moments where the veil lowered and he seemed almost clingy. 
A hand smoothed across your back in a comforting manner. It wasn't the first time your drinking buddy had offered a steadying touch. But this time it felt a little more charged. As if there were more meaning behind the gesture this time that hadn't been there before. 

“Ever thought to tell him about all of this? These feelings, I mean.”

“Pft, no. He's...not the sort of man that would want to hear someone prattle on about their emotions. Especially when those emotions are messy and just serve to disrupt everything.”

The hand on your back shifted downward, pressing firmly into your lower back. Fingertips just barely digging in through the layers of clothes as if to map out the curve of your back. A moment of silence stretched between the two of you until he broke it. “Maybe he's just more in tune with things that are more on the physical side. I mean, words can so easily be faked. Lies are traded more than mora in Teyvat. But actions? Those speak so much louder and more clearly.”

“I highly doubt he would let me get all touchy-feely with him. I bet he'd eviscerate me just for trying to hug him.” You commented with a light scoff. 

“You'd be surprised. Especially with how cold it is here. Maybe sometimes the only thing that can pierce the frigid polar temperature is to feel something unshakably warm. A heated variable to pierce through the icy barrier.”

With a quizzical expression, you glanced at him. Those words were said with an oddly familiar cadence. Suspicion flickered across your face before being masked by taking a sip of the new drink placed in front of you. 

“He initiated the heat last time in a way that felt manufactured and necessary. If he's seeking something extracurricular, then perhaps he needs to make it known. I'm the one wearing my feelings on my sleeves, after all.” Your tone held a firm challenge that to anyone else would simply seem like a cryptic and pointed response. Vague but pointed to a nameless party. 

“You've spent far too much time around me.” That voice was most decidedly not the voice you had been hearing by your side in this bar for the past few weeks. And yet it had come from him nonetheless. Time seemed to pause around you. The bartender frozen in place as he cleaned a glass. Two men unmoving even as their fists were raised to strike one another in a bar brawl that had started by the entrance. The only sound was the low crackle of the fire. An element that refused to be stilled by manipulation. 

The figure in your peripheral vision blurred for a moment. Like seeing a glitch on a monitor within the lab before clearing once more. The silhouette was more than familiar and seemed out of place in a civilian tavern. He was too clean, too eccentric for such backgrounds. 

“You've rubbed off on me far more than I want to admit”, you mused as you downed the second drink of the night. He chuckled in response, unable to deny that. “And yet I could only get you to open up to me by pretending to be someone else and getting you buzzed off cheap ale.”

“Yeah well, you're not exactly approachable, Doctor.”

That hand on your back suddenly felt twice as warm as it had before. It drifted back up to rest between your shoulder blades, smoothing over the faint tension that was growing there. 

“Then consider this a formal invitation to approach me.” The hand on your back moved up towards the back of your neck. Gloves carefully threading through hair as to not pull or tangle any strands. “As well as an invitation for you to share some of your warmth”

“Has this always just been you? Following me after work to drink with me? Or is this just a one night case of stolen identity?”

“Do you really think I would allow you to become intoxicated and vulnerable around another man? No. From the beginning, it was me. Every drink. Every conversation. Every little touch and ...” he paused to exhale sharply and grin. “...every little kiss when you've indulged a little too much and got clingy.”

It had been Dottore you had been drinking alongside. His ears heard every story you had to tell, every terrible joke and meaningless conversation. He had been the one to take in each of your drunken tokens of affection. Your aloof and clinical superior during the day and your casual partner at night. 

Perhaps the realization had caused you to zone out for a moment. A gloved hand guided your gaze towards him by curling under your chin. The touch was light and lingering. “Shall I grant you the chance to kiss me properly?”

But a kiss wasn't enough. Dottore had said that he wanted to feel you share your warmth with him and you wanted nothing more than to grant it to him. With so much accumulated tension and desire springing forth in your mildly intoxicated mind, you stood from the stool and moved with him. Away from the bar that you had spent so many evenings at and towards the back door that led outside. As soon as the back door shut, you heard the bar spark back to life. Whatever time manipulation he used had faded once he exited. 

Not that it mattered, once outside the two of you were alone. The tavern had a small outdoor patio area that was surrounded by a few trees, structures and vinery that hid most of the tables and chairs out of view from anyone potentially passing by. It was cold outside but not that it mattered. The two of you were feeling more than enough heat to make it easy to ignore. 

The first kiss was awkward and rushed. Lips at first not lined up properly. Your mouth only finding the side of his before he tilted his head to guide you to the proper alignment with him. His hand guided you to position your own head in the perfect angle to allow your lips to mesh together perfectly without feeling the beak of his mask graze your face. Even with the mask, you could feel the gentle ghost of his breath across your face. His lips were slightly dry but still soft against your own. 

When the kiss finally ended and the two of you pulled back away from each other, he stepped back to sit down on the booth that lined the back wall of the patio. He stretched out languidly, his gloved hand smoothing over the cushion of the booth next to him as if you beckon you to sit with him. 

His head tilted to the side like a curious bird as you didn't sit next to him. Instead, you sank to your knees on the wooden floor beneath you. “You said you wanted me to share my warmth with you...” Your hands were on his knees for a moment before sliding up his thighs. His legs parted enough to allow you to slot into place, to kneel before him. “...and I want to share my warmth with you like this.”

His arms spread to rest against the back of the booth as he considered your offer. His hips lifted just slightly as if to adjust himself into a more comfortable position. Or to give you an easier vantage point as your hands felt the warm leather of his belt. 

“You're certain?”, he asked, though the slight crack in his voice betrayed his attempt at reigning in his desire. He couldn't nonchalant his way through this one, not with your fingers already sliding down his zipper. 

“Let me worship my God” Those words came from your lips without even thinking about it. Perhaps you had spent a little too much time considering his role in his latest experiment with the three moons. The words made his head fall back to rest against the back wall before the head of his cock even made it past your lips. By the time the tip brushed against the back of your throat, a gloved hand shot down to grip the back of your head. Always guiding you without a moment of hesitation. Fingers gripping your hair tight but not painfully pulling. Just firm enough to control you. Not that he had to do much, he simply had to coax you to take him just a little deeper with each pass. 

“You know, at first I was incredibly frustrated with you.” Leave it to Dottore to start yapping while you sucked his cock. Even in pleasure he couldn't contain himself. “...letting yourself get close to who you thought was just a pyro agent. Offering him the chance to glimpse inside that pretty little head of yours.”

Your hands gripped the backs of his calves as you half listened to him while trying to find the right way to take his cock down without gagging all over it constantly. 

“Not that it matters, does it? After all, whose cock are you slobbering all over right now?” His grin was feral and self satisfied. “Ah, but I enjoyed those little drunken kisses you gave me. You were so shy the first time it happened. And when I didn't negatively react, oh, you just kept going, didn't you?”

With a sharp gasp, he momentarily lost his train of thought as you found the perfect rhythm to make his body go taut and his cock to pulse in your mouth. His grip in your hair tightened with a faint growl. Was he getting close already? You supposed he didn't exactly partake in this experience regularly.

“Ah...you called me your God, did you not? Look up at me. Let me bless you with my gaze..” And Celestia help you, but from this lower perspective you could catch the shine of his crimson stare. He groaned as your eyes made direct contact. “Yes, that's it. There you are. So, so good for me. You love worshipping your god like the devoted follower you are, don't you?”

His breaths were becoming more ragged and labored. His cock pulsed erratically. His hips began to buck up a bit as his hand tugged you further down to engulf even more of his cock. With a low moan, his hand yanked you off of him. Fingers gripped your hair almost painfully tightly as he pulled you to bend backwards so that he could splatter his seed across your face. His fist pumped his cock furiously, as if intent to fully coat your face.

“Ah...look at you...properly baptized.”

His thumb swept up some of the warm, sticky mess from your cheek to smear it across your lips. “Take the sacrament I offer you”