r/0sanitymemes

Returning inside from the the rain with Theresa, you walked like a procession back to Theresa’s dorm, in no hurry to see this day roll to the final countdown. Theresa shared in your funereal stride, white dress contrasting preemptive black mourning, features heavy with the weight of years. It occurred to you, at last, that perhaps Theresa did not resist your hidden agenda because she had long consigned herself to such a fate. Then again, hadn’t you, too? Millennia of procrastination to accept a long-settled conclusion.

Theresa took your hand, in spite of it all. And when she said, “Doctor, shall we?”, as if it were any other night to spend together, she said your name like she meant it. Already your coat was beginning to dry, while Theresa's dress had remained untouched by the rain.

Entering Theresa’s dorm, which had become your sole reprieve in recent months, you shrugged off your coat and let it crumple to the floor and shivered, anxious and sickly. Without comment, Theresa picked it up and folded it neatly on her nightstand, beckoning you toward her bed. Also on her nightstand, the tower of letters, all read and kept in reach of her bed, seemed to have grown in tandem with the sins you accumulated as the Ghost of Babel.

Words caught in your throat. Tomorrow Theresa would be dead and it would be your fault. For months you had been caught up in a lie, playing as Theresa’s partner (her ‘concubine’, as you had heard multiple operators refer to you) while conspiring against her, all because you couldn’t say no and you couldn’t say yes. 

A warm touch brought you back down. “Doctor,” she savored your name, “those are problems for tomorrow. I would like tonight to belong only to us.” How could she still call you ‘Doctor’, after everything?

Your only response was a tepid nod. Theresa’s faint smile seemed to understand.

And so, as she had many times before, Theresa laid you down on her bed, your bed, if you wanted, a softness you could drown in, and helped you undress, folding each article neatly on her nightstand. Her unhurried ease made the responsibilities of the outside fall away: no matter how much needed to be done, it could wait, her actions said. Theresa’s dorm was pleasantly cool, contrasting the summer heat, which made her warmth enveloping you come as a relief.

Theresa pinned your hands above your head, effortless strength making you shudder in anticipation. Her hair spilled around you in waves, directing your gaze up to hers with her other hand tilting your chin. In her eyes was reflected not the cold monster you saw in the mirror but a being of need made flesh. Her radiant warmth burned into your shadowed heart: her hands were so warm, soon to be cold, and so yours were too. You flinched: what was wrong with you, accepting the company of a woman you had betrayed? All you had to do was say no... or yes.

Theresa pulled her hand back, unsure.

“What is it you want, Doctor?”

To go home. To cure Amiya. To fulfill your promise to her. To find a solution that could satisfy everyone you cared about. 

You had committed to a path your heart knew to be wrong: a greater good that was neither great nor good. All your rumination spirals had gone nowhere and you wanted it to be over.

Theresa’s gaze hung patient and expectant over you. Tomorrow, what you wanted wouldn’t matter, so tonight, it could be all that mattered.

“I... I want you to breed the thoughts out of me, Theresa.” 

“Mm. It will be done, Doctor.” Theresa reached for a drawer and got a pack of condoms but your hand on her arm stopped her. Her eyes widened, a little, as she grasped your intent. Surprise, then resignation. It wouldn’t matter, after tomorrow. You both knew it, and were past the point of pretending otherwise.

“You know, I like it when you call me that, even though...” Even though you had un-earned your name, forsaken the promise underlying it, cast aside the founding purpose of Rhodes Island. Maybe it was her way of upholding a comforting lie, as part of your relationship. No, her faith in you hurt too much to not be genuine. Idly your hands rubbed the fabric of her dress.

Theresa’s smile was sad and knowing.

“I do mean it when I say your name. You will always be the Doctor, and nothing can change that in my eyes. Mm, enough of that. Why don’t I get you ready for me, Doctor?”

Theresa directed your hands to help her tug off her dress, which she unceremoniously tossed onto the floor. As her bra followed, your eyes drifted to her panties, straining to hold her growing need. You salivated, and the part of you that was dumb and horny gave an impatient huff that came out almost as a whine, which was slightly mortifying. Theresa smirked but had the courtesy to not comment.

Instead of fully undressing Theresa pressed her bulge against your inner thighs, leaning in to nibble your ear as her fingers trailed down your neck, your breasts, your belly, and circled around your thighs and your breath caught and her fingers slipped in and that breath became a wheezing gasp.

“Tell me if it’s too rough, Doctor.” Theresa studied you, as much with the crown as with her senses, then added smugly, “Or if you want me to be rougher.”

A quivering nod was all she needed. You were so on-edge, so pent-up, that it didn’t take long before you clenched around her fingers, wracked in climax, leaning up into her shoulder, legs squirming. And then it hit you, a blast of sorrow that stole your breath in all the wrong ways, made you feel heavy and guilt-stricken and tears streaming unbidden down your face and Theresa’s concerned whispering was so far away. In the corner of your mind it occurred to you that you had pulled two rings off her fingers when her hand withdrew and she was asking if she could fish them out and so you mumbled an incoherent “Uh-uh”.

“Deep breaths, Doctor. I’m right here.”

With Theresa’s rings back on her fingers, the sorrow that sat heavy in your chest began to ebb, and Theresa snuggled into you such that her heart beat steady and strong against your arm, soft hands wiping away your tears until a stream became a trickle and the river ran dry. 

“This... You feel this, all the time?” The removal of two rings nearly incapacitated you.

Theresa’s own eyes were moist and her gaze was full of old, deep hurt: her many years, and fathomless more. It said: I feel this and so much more. Instead,

“I have been blessed with companions whose love and support makes it bearable. That includes you, Doctor.” Even now, you had no idea how a cold husk of a person could do anything like that, but Theresa said it with such understated conviction that it almost felt deserved, if not for... Theresa leaned in to kiss your ear, distracting you.

Then you felt Theresa’s bulge press against your hip with renewed vigor.

“Shall we continue, Doctor?”

You almost thought she was aroused by your sadness, or whatever she saw underlying it. Or maybe it was how you ached with need for her. Yes, please. The words caught in your throat, and you gave a panicked nod, as if this moment would slip away. With one finger Theresa tilted your chin  to face her, and there was a hunger you had never seen, a dormant thing long buried under her lofty roles. Softly, needily, breathily, her measured tone betraying her eagerness,

“Then, this time, Doctor, I’d like you to free her with your teeth.”

And so Theresa assumed your prior position while you scooched back, rubbing your face down the smooth and curve of her form until you were between her thighs, planting an appreciative smooch on the webby scar she had once told you came from a spire caster. Theresa’s hands in your hair guided you where you needed to be, and you took the side-band of her panties in your teeth and tugged down.

Theresa’s cock flopped onto your face, and warmth became heat, soft fragrance making you flush and salivate. Theresa stifled a moan. “Hah, I need this as much as you, Doctor.” The way she said your name was enough to convince you.

First things first, you took her panties and dress, left crumpled on the floor, and not so neatly folded them, giving Theresa a pointed look; she raised her hands in mock guilt, then beckoned you to her waist.

“I want you to straddle me, Doctor. I want to feel you lower yourself onto me. I want to be inside you.”

Her need only amplified your own; your core burned and all your motions were shaky as you got on top of her, her hands on your hips holding you steady as you lined up her tip with your entrance and without preamble sank down. Theresa heaved a sigh of relief, eyes closed in bliss, while you exhaled sharply. Theresa was big, as a King of Sarkaz ought to be (her words), so you rarely took her in full, but tonight, as you struggled with the last couple inches...

Theresa’s grip tightened and you felt her tremor slightly. You smiled and nodded; you were on the same wavelength, here. You wanted Theresa to pull you down and that’s what she did, and with resistless strength, slow only in consideration, she was all the way inside. Breaths quickening you squirmed atop her, helplessly held down, Theresa fixing you with a smug, proud look still so full of warmth.

“Good girl. Ah, I never want to leave. Now, can I...?” Theresa blushed, and you could guess what made her too embarrassed to voice. You placed one hand over your lower belly, savoring the slight bulge of her snug fit, and the other over one of her hands on your hip, looking her straight in the eye.

“Don’t you dare hold back.” Normally these would be dangerous words to say to a woman twenty times stronger, but nothing tomorrow would require full use of your legs, and nothing after would... “Use me.”

Theresa’s eyes widened, half in delight, half in understanding sorrow. But, she didn’t have to be told twice. With that effortless strength that made your tummy flutter coming from one so gentle, she lifted you up, until just the tip remained in you, then lowered you back down, hips rocking into you. “Mm, it’s like you were made for me, Doctor.” You choked on a gasp. She can’t just say things like that! Not least because your heart knew it to be true. In your core Theresa’s heartbeat, once so calm, was quicker now.

Theresa’s horns scraped against the headrest, leaving scratch marks. 

“Your, uh, hor- ah! horns.”

“I, mm, don’t care, Doctor. Ah. No thoughts, hah, only, us.”

Theresa set a graceful pace that intensified into animal need, holding you, using you like a toy, sharing in the desperate passion of knowing this could only happen once.

“I’m close. First, ah, cum for me, Doctor. Look me in the eyes and be a good girl and cum your brains o- ah, hah, ahhh.” The pleasure would have knocked you over had Theresa not held you steady, held you down as she came inside you for the first and last time, and warmth bloomed into you, spreading, filling, rope after rope painting your insides white and you wrung every drop out of her. Theresa’s smile was radiant, a sheen of sweat on her forehead, hair disheveled, and you thought you could drown in her warmth then and there. Joy turned to shame as it sank in what you’d done, and Theresa’s smile fell at that, and your shame doubled.

In a panting heap you slumped forward, Theresa guiding your face into the crook of her neck. Faintly you caught the scent of oranges: three years ago you suggested that Theresa’s dream of fields of flowers should include fruit trees to feed the hungry. What could have been relief or pride was only a pang of longing.

“You know, Doctor, we could...” Theresa couldn’t bring herself to say it but you had a good idea of what she left unsaid: this could be your life, companionship that fulfilled you in every way, raising a family together, all you had to do was say yes. But you couldn’t. It was cruel even to ask. And knowing that Theresa wanted that with you...

You burst into tears. Ugly sobs wracked your body, this time the sorrow entirely your own. The life you wanted and needed was within reach but you promised. Theresa held you in her arms but ultimately said nothing. What was there left to say? You turned to get up, but winced at the soreness between your legs. Well, there was one thing.

“Will you at least let me heal you, Doctor?”

Panic gripped you, despite everything. “But Dr. Kal’tsit said you shouldn’t use your Arts anymore.”

You looked up to see tears trickling down Theresa’s face and amusement danced with guilt on a vast, vast sorrow. She smiled, despite everything.

“Yes, well.”