049×035 oneshots

Hush Up and Hold Out.

In which 035 refuses to admit that telepathy can sometimes be overwhelming. And the Doc gives him some.... uncommon medication.

Warnings: made up telepath problems, migraines, closet sex, dirty talk, making out, light master/servant, formal titles, past relationships, past sexscapades, blowjobs, deepthroating. Oral sex, sex as medicine, tentacles, cock milking (tentacle milking?), one-person bukkake

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It really was a proper party.

Not that the Plague Doctor had all that good of a gage save for how much he disliked it. People were crowded in the small rented event venue, chattering away and producing about a thousand hazards. He was wearing something to cover most of his curing skin - there was no Pestilence here, after all - but that still didn't subtract from the miniature heart attack he experienced each and every time something brushed against him. 

No, he didn't like parties. Nonetheless, that was was his darling had wanted. A party just like the good old days when nobles were the sole bearer of that fine porcelain, and the Doctor was far less mature to the point that it was only the 'proper' part of the party situation he didn't enjoy all that much, if only because that single word would limit his alcohol intake and potentially prevent him from pulling the mysterious, mask wearing party host aside to become a bit more 'well acquainted'.  He was a changed man, now. Far more mature. Far more professional. A wonderful doctor. The Cure, in fact!

... Speaking of the party host, He couldn't find his partner anywhere, the rather large gathering obscuring just about every sense at his disposal and instead crowding it with a cacophony of 'new' that, while he used to obsess with purposely searching out that odd, brain melting feeling of sensory overload, had lost its appeal some two-hundred years ago. He couldn't imagine how his Dýo was able to handle it, what with the telepathy. He began to travel the thin, weblike links to his attending patients, essentially 'borrowing' their point of view for a bit until he caught a glint of porcelain and shook off the lingering distance that came with a more intensive use of the "Hive-Mind" as his darling had called it. 

Now in pursuit, the Doctor swiftly weaved through the crowd, each step a careful calculation to prevent himself from ending up in the path of someone that may step backwards or to the side and potentially find one of the sparse points of exposed hide to cure themselves with. 

It seemed like an age and a half had passed before he managed to bump companiable shoulders with the one he was looking for, unwilling to interrupt the current ongoing conversation, but still concerned with the potential of the ever elusive thespian wandering off without him. 

There was a quick glance his way, and the subtle brush of his partner's hand against his own that beckoned him to lace his slender, awkward fingers with those elegant, perfect ones, reveling in the callouses of built up scar tissue caused by a recent foray back into playing string instruments

An odd feeling that the Doctor recognized as the Mask's presence in his head. It was a bit unorthodox compared to usual, stressed and, if he dared try and latch on to it, exuding an aura of 'don't come near me' that threatened to start a horrid pressure headache just behind the eyes. He backed off, understanding that the presence could simply have been out of habit, and not wanting to catch onto those odd, outward thoughts of his darling if they were not meant for him. 

He went by faces, instead, allowing that presence to passively remain with the knowledge that Dýo, for whatever reason, seemed to prefer listening to the prattling of his 'hivemind' than face those of less peculiar folk (even if that habit had greatly lessened post his gift of a cured host). He was strangely honored by how much the mask seemed to like lingering just within his head. The idea that his own inane internal prattlings were considered sanctum enough to be a preferred place to rest made him feel such deep, piercing love that his chest ached with the feeling.