What a divine mortal you are, so surprising how you aren't some sort of Greek God that descended into Tevyat, walking beside disgusting mortals. That's how Dottore always saw you anytime he had the great fulness to bore his eyes into you. His lover, his partner, his soul. That's a nice word to him, but if anything. He is yours. Trailing kisses up your legs, hands carefully gliding underneath and up your thigh. Bowing and bending at whatever whim you want or need.