BECOMING
Her skin was hot to the touch. Wet and salty with perspiration, soft and smooth beneath his controlling hands. She was growling at him, threats or pleas, it didn't much matter. In the end, it all meant the same thing - a language he barely understood but responded to just the same.
Impossibly high heels, impossibly tight skirt, impossibly long legs. He shouldn't have noticed those things. It shouldn't have even crossed his mind how easy it would be to push that skirt up over her hips and bend her forward. But there she was, lying across the console, manicured nails scraping the smooth surface. And here he was, buried to the hilt inside of her tight heat, jaw tight and eyes shut hard. It was so wrong. And it was so painfully good...
It was unnatural. He wasn't a human. He wasn't a lower species who should be susceptible to her pheromones. He didn't love her; he didn't really even like her. She frustrated him more than any living creature he had ever met in all his lives with her ungrateful, demanding, bitchy whine. But that wasn't the sound coming from her now. It was more angry, and more needful. She hated this, too. And she needed it as badly as he did.
His vision blurred. His control slipped through his fingers. She screamed, tightening around him like a vise, and fire shot down his spine and to all four corners of his body. Hips jerking, hands groping. Animals caught in a mating ritual. Mindless and senseless, complete loss of control. So... horrifically... blissful.
A cool breeze, a tired sigh from the Tardis, made him open his eyes. He was alone, but for her low-lying sentience. But somehow, even the presence of his beloved ship made him feel as if he were on display. Staring up at the ceiling, hearts still racing as his breathing slowed back to normal, he felt the cold of guilt and shame tighten around him as he gradually loosened his hand from his shaft. Unnatural, for a Time Lord. What the hell was he becoming?