It was sick. It was wrong. It was abominable, and he could very well be hanged for it.
He needed it.
He needed to feel the man's—boy's—seventeen, seventeen—skin under his hands. He needed to feel his flesh give and dent and rebound, hardening in some places and softening in others.
Bruising in most.
He was supposed to be an adult. He could handle death. He could handle anything. He could when he was Theta Sigma, so why can't he as the Doctor?
If only the same was true for Koschei.
Koschei was weak. Koschei was foolish. Koschei'd said he'd wanted this, and the Doctor should've known better.
In between thrusts into the boy's body, breaking them both irreparably for millennia to come, Time Lord Victorious pretended not to notice the pained whimpers reverberating through the room, and the white knuckles clutching the headboard.
He didn't want to hold back. He ought to. Kosch never held back, and Kosch was older than him, but now he's not and everything's falling apart and the Doctor can feel his hearts break each time he sees the Arton energy repairing the wounds on the boy's hips, and—and—
He releases.
Koschei cries.
Somewhere else on Gallifrey, the young Theta does, too.
A/N: Erm. Hi.
Right. So. My first Whofic, and it's Ten raping Koschei…
I'll definitely be writing more. I absolutely adore Koschei's character, and Theta's pretty fun, too. Then again, the Master is fantastic in all regenerations.
