The kiss was intensely unwelcome, hard and unexpected. But something thrummed in recognition. Two hearts, that extra echo of a beat in the moment of contact. The Dr felt an unexpected pull of desire, yearning. He should have known, should have recognized in that caricature of Mary Poppins his ancient nemesis, his first friend. The boy who had help him when he shuddered in his fears, banished to the barn to sleep alone. The boy who had kissed away his tears and promised that together they would rule the universe. The boy whose gaze into the abyss too soon awoke a terrifying vision of that rule, transforming it from a dream to a plan. The boy who terrified and enthralled him, whose kisses were as possessives as loving... as possessive as hers.
And he could not deny that part of him stirred for that possessiveness, for the assumption that he too, only wanted everything, the universe at his feet. He wanted to take her hard in the cemetery, return her painful kiss wish one as punishing, more even. He wanted, for an instant to obliterate PE and Clara, the constant nag, the sluggish human, erase them with a flash of alien tech, and to feel the rhythm of dual hearts beating against his own, to push her against the rough and ancient stone until her tears tasted salty against his tongue. His mistress. The word on his tongue curled his lip with desire.
And in that moment, she saw him, wholly and truly, his vicious passion answering her madness, her gleeful delight in pain and suffering echoed in his hatred and rage. In that moment, her plan was complete. He was hers as she had always intended he be. And he was glorious.