this chapter contains very explicit sexual content.
like hella detailed.
read by your own choice.

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𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐱

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 —

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬.

His lips crash into mine, desperate and unrelenting, our mouths locked in a battle fiercer than any war waged across the stars. Across the universes. His tongue tangles with mine, a clash of heat and hunger, like swords meeting in bloodshed—ferocious, insatiable.

He tastes of stardust and tea, of adventure and tragedy, of bravery and kindness, and something else—something that is entirely, undeniably him. Something completely alien and yet familiar all the same. And I am claiming him. The last TimeLord. Mine.

The Doctor lets out his own noise, something reminiscent of a growl, his fingers curling possessively into my waist as though he knows what I am thinking and he feels the same.

My hands find his bow tie first, tugging at the fabric until it unravels between my fingers. The suspenders snap against his chest as I pull them free, my nails grazing against the cotton of his shirt, eager to feel the skin beneath.

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐡 𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐝𝐞𝐫.

His breath hitches when I rip through his buttons, popping and breaking them, and finally I manage to push his ruined shirt off his shoulders, the fabric slipping down his arms before it falls away completely. I let my hands roam freely now, fingers tracing the heat of him—the lean strength beneath his skin, the rapid thrum of his hearts beneath my palm.

His own hands are just as relentless, tracing fire down my spine, gripping my hips as though he might pull me apart and put me back together in the same breath. It seems to take all his strength to keep his hands over my own shirt and stray no lower than my hips.

Somehow, in the frenzy of hands and mouths, we've found ourselves standing, no longer on my bed.

I shove him back suddenly, pressing him against the wall with enough force to rattle the TARDIS herself. He gasps, a sharp, surprised sound before he laughs, entirely delighted, tilting his head back to meet my gaze.

𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞.

"Possessive, aren't we?" He breathes, eyes gleaming with something wickedly pleased. "Naughty girl..."

My fingers curl into his bare chest, nails dragging lightly down his skin leaving red marks that cause him to hiss. "You started it, old man..."

His laughter vanishes as I lean in, pressing my lips against the pulse point at his throat, feeling his heartbeat flutter like a caged bird against my tongue. His hands tighten around my waist—but just as quickly as I claimed control, it's stolen from me.

With a sudden shift, he reversed our positions, spinning us before I could process what had happened and pinning me against the wall now, his body flush against mine, caging me in.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬.

His breath is hot against my lips, his hands firm at my sides. He leans in, barely an inch between us, his voice a murmur of pure promise.

"You always have to challenge me, don't you?"

My pulse thunders, my breath catches, and my hands dig into his bare shoulders.

"Wouldn't be fun for either of us otherwise, would it?" I grin and the Doctor's face lights up unexpectantly, big green eyes staring into mine.

And then he kisses me again—fierce, consuming, like fire to powder—like the end of the world, and the beginning of something far greater.

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐞.

I reach down and my fingers fumble with the zipper to his trousers, urgency and the feeling of his hardness making my usually precise hands clumsy.

With an annoyed huff, the zipper finally comes and I tug, yanking the fabric down his hips in one swift motion. The Doctor stumbles slightly, breathless laughter bubbling from his lips as he kicks the trousers away, leaving him in nothing but his undergarments. A TARDIS blue pair.

I smirk at the prominent tent peeking through his underwear. How many beings can say they've effectively given the high and mighty TimeLord Doctor a boner?

"Careful, old man, don't want to hurt yourself..."

"Oh, hush," he huffs, still grinning as he regains his footing, still somehow flapping his hands despite our situation.

It's admittedly quite cute.

But then his expression shifts—softening, deepening—his fingers reaching out, brushing lightly against my arms before traveling down to the hem of my shirt. It's long, loose, the last real barrier between us aside from our underwear. The weight of the moment settles between us.

I don't know why it feels so big. It's not like he hasn't seen this many times before—he saw me naked when he healed me from the Dra'Kon. He's seen me naked in our shared dreams. And; hell, even before that, he's seen the future version of me naked—the one who eventually travels with Ten.

The Doctor hesitates, his bright eyes flickering up to mine, asking for permission without a single word.

Are you ready to destroy the peace, dearest? Our makeshift peace, at least.

Take it all the way... step over the boundary and walk down this road of no return. Fall into the abyss, an abyss of no escape.

I tilt my head, my smirk widening. "Get on with it, old man... don't make it such a big deal, you've seen this before. In dreams and real life."

His lips part slightly, a glimmer of something knowing crackling behind his eyes. A chuckle comes from his throat as his fingers tighten on the fabric. "I knew you remembered those dreams..." he murmurs, clicking his tongue before pulling my shirt over my head.

The discarded material joins his own on the floor, forgotten.

My vision is momentarily overtaken by fabric before it is gone in the next moment and I am looking at the Doctor once again.

Now we stand across from each other, nearly bare—only the flimsiest of clothing left between us covering both our most delicate areas. The last scraps of modesty, as if either of us had ever been modest to begin with.

And God, he is beautiful.

Lean but still somehow strong, all sharp angles and long limbs, but softer in places where time has settled into him. His skin glows in the low light of the TARDIS, the faintest dusting of freckles scattered across his collarbones. His hair is tousled, messier than usual, and his eyes—green and burning and impossibly deep—hold me in place more effectively than his hands ever could.

The Doctor takes a slow step forward, closing the distance between us. His fingers ghost along my waist, feather-light, like he's savoring every inch. His skin appears even lighter against my natural mocha coloring. His gaze roves over me appreciatively, and when he speaks, his voice is reverent.

"You're stunning. So very beautiful every time I see you, divine woman." He spoke, appearing as the happiest man alive with eyes that roamed me over in wonder.

I raise a brow, the corner of my mouth twitching upward. "Oh?"

His lips curl into a proud but near wolfish smile as he added an after thought. "Especially when you're naked."

I bark out a laugh, shaking my head, but before I can fire back, he pulls me against him, pressing our bodies flush together. The heat of him sears into me, his skin against mine, my breasts pressed up against his chest.

A humming sigh escaped me at the feeling of it, the sensitivity of my perk nipples against his hot skin was enough to work me up even further. Not to mention, the feel of his excitement—heavy and thick poking against my hips had me fluttering.

It was amazing to think that mere hours ago we were standing off against each other in a rather intense and emotional argument.

I was not absurdly shorter than him, but it was still enough of a noticeable height difference. Something that once upon a time would have me annoyed, but at this moment, it only served to fuel my excitement.

Then the Doctor leans down and kisses me again, the sensation now so familiar—deep, heady, all-consuming. His tongue slides against mine, slow at first, teasing, before he deepens it, claiming my mouth in a way that makes my knees weak.

A man who uses his tongue, indeed.

The Doctor's hands roam, tracing the curve of my spine, the dip of my waist, the swell of my hips. But then—then—his fingers skim up, up, up, until they reach my bare breast, and he finds my nipple and rolls it between his fingers, tugging on it lightly.

A gasping cry bursts out of me before I can stop it; high-pitched, embarrassing, and absolutely telling to how good that felt.

The Doctor makes his own noise at the sound, almost guttural, his head dropping to my shoulder as he exhales sharply. His breath is hot against my skin, his fingers tightening their grip as continued to knead and tease and twist. It feels so good.

And he keeps pulling more of those quiet and embarrassing and personal sounds out of me.

"Oh, that's a sound I'm going to remember..." He mutters, his voice thick with amusement and affection and pure desire.

I don't get the chance to fire back, to laugh or tease him—because the universe seems to despise me.

A loud knock suddenly echoes against the bedroom door. The Doctor freezes in his motions of playing with my sensitive nipples, his body going rigid against mine. I let out a small pant, and the Doctor hums before releasing my breast with one last twisting tug.

I pout.

"PJ? You awake yet?" It's Amy's voice that comes through the door, entirely Scottish. "Atomic-bombmaker, PJ," She adds at the end playfully, followed by a long yawn. "Doctor, can we go somewhere else before Rory and I go to bed?" Amy then asks, her voice heavy with exhaustion but she is still so eager to explore more. "Maybe look at a nebula or something?"

Every muscle in my body tenses, my brows furrowing as the Doctor's expression shifts. Amusement flickers across his features, but there's something else—something sharp, something almost annoyed—as he presses a hand over my mouth, silencing me before I can react.

He stares at the door, composing himself before responding as believably as he can given we're both standing here practically naked looking as though there was a gun drawn on us.

"No, Pond! PJ is still asleep—though, uh..." He hesitates, trailing off awkwardly, as though just now realizing the flaw in his excuse. "She appears to be waking up now... because of the shouting," he adds, his voice a perfect blend of irritation and innocence.

"Well, why can't you momentarily leave her room to pilot the TARDIS to a nebula so Rory and I can watch it?" She asks right back, voice full of sass.

"Because, Pond!" The Doctor spits back furiously. "I am busy!"

Busy, indeed.

"Busy doing what? You just said PJ is sleeping, you're probably just laying next to her watching that weird Atraxi show you guys like! C'mon, it'll just take you a second, plus you love piloting the TARDIS!" She argues.

The Doctor seems to scold himself internally as he is hit with facts.

I glare at him, and he finally moves his hand away. I raise a brow, silently questioning him.

He gestures toward the door, then tilts his head at me, eyes twinkling with mischief.

He wants me to pretend I'm waking up.

I roll my eyes but huff dramatically before groaning out loud, "Can you guys shut up?! I am trying to sleep!"

The Doctor immediately jumps in, his voice all syrupy and apologetic. "Oh, I'm so sorry, dearest! Didn't mean to wake you! Go back to bed! Amy, you and Rory go to sleep—we'll go somewhere once you wake up! I'll make sure it's fun!"

"Rio then?" Is all Amy responded with. "I want to see Rio! But like proper fun Rio in the 2010s, not some crazy past or future version where—"

"Yes, yes, fine, Pond!" The Doctor cuts her off exasperated. "We'll do Rio in the year 2013! Perfectly fun and fine year for 21st-century humans like yourself and Mr. Pond!"

I snort, and then—because I can—I throw in, "Oh my God, Doctor, do you have a boner?!" My voice was scandalized. "I feel it against my back!"

Obviously, he actually does have a boner. But it's funnier because now Amy and Rory think the Doctor has a boner just from watching me sleep.

His eyes widen in horror, and before I can get another word out, his hand slaps over my mouth again. He glares, but I can feel the heat rising off him, his jaw tight as I snicker beneath his palm.

"It's just my sonic screwdriver!" He yelps a random excuse.

"Ew, whatever!" Amy groans from the other side of the door. "Goodnight! And please—please—for the love of all things, don't be disgustingly loud!" She exclaims, beginning to catch onto the fact that we weren't actually sleeping.

Her footsteps fade down the hall, but I barely register them—because the Doctor is still staring at me, lips pressed together, eyes narrowed.

Then, as she is walking away from the door, we hear Amy say out loud to herself, "Space balls, I swear..."

And that's it. That's what does me in.

I lose it, full-bodied laughter shaking through me crudely. To make it worse, I point to the Doctor childishly and manage something along the lines of; "yeah, you really do have space balls at this point..."

Because this man lives in his TARDIS in his space. Obviously it's not by choice considering his planet is gone and there are no other TimeLords, but it doesn't change the fact that he's all about space, space, and more SPACE!

Space as in the cosmos, not space as in distance because we all know that the Doctor is all up in anyone's personal business when given the chance.

The Doctor, however, does not find it amusing.

His eyes darken. His jaw twitches. His lips pull into a smirk and he moves faster than I thought he could; his hand lifting up and coming down powerfully.

Smack.

I yelp as his palm landed on my ass, the sting sharp even through the fabric of my knickers.

I immediately glared at him, but the Doctor only continued to smirk.

"Oh, I think you need to be taught a lesson," he murmurs playfully, palm still resting on my bottom as he starts to massage it. "You've been a very bad girl—jumping through time and messing with it... doing acid in my TARDIS..."

Before I can react, he grabs my wrists, twisting them behind my back with ease. Then he whirls me around, forcing me face-first into the mattress of my bed.

The position leaves my ass raised, perfectly exposed to him, my knickers the only barrier between him, my entire backside, and everything else delightful between my legs.

The Doctor moves, the bed groaning as he crawls up it and over me. He leans in close, his breath hot against my ear. His skin was warm against my own—blue boxers loose around his waist.

"Now," the alien man of time titters, voice low, smug, and full of promise, "where were we?"

I breath in nervous anticipation, trying not to wiggle my ass pathetically. Rather, I shrug nonchalantly while resting my head against the soft mattress, sandwiched between my bed and the Doctor.

The Doctor hums thoughtfully, his hands smoothing over the curve of my ass, fingers tracing the fabric stretched taut against my skin. His touch is slow and deliberate.

His thumbs press into the swell of my cheeks, kneading before his thumb then finds its way to the crotch area of my panties—my breath catches and my cheeks redden against my will as his thumb shoves itself between the panty material and my wetness.

He hums, rubbing the thin material of the fabric between his fingers before removing his fingers altogether with a snap of the clothing. I yelped as the material suddenly snapped back into my wet folds—goosebumps appearing over my body.

The Doctor let out a considering noise of glee, voice far too bright given his passion-filled actions. "Mmm... how about we count them off?"

My brow furrows against the mattress. "Count what off—?"

There was no time to react as his hand disappeared from my ass only to reappear harshly a moment later.

Smack.

A sharp yell—not of pain, but surprise and something else I would rather not admit to—wrenches from my lips as the sound echoes through the room, the sudden sting blooming across my skin.

Oh. Oh.

I barely have time to register it before his hand comes down again, a little harder, a little firmer, the impact reverberating through me.

My initial shock melts away in an instant, giving way to something else—something warm and electric, pleasure curling up my spine. A pleased groan spills from my lips as I let my body relax, melting into his touch.

The Doctor chuckles above me, his hand smoothing over the spot he just struck, fingers tracing patterns over the heat he left behind. "Ah, see, I knew you'd like this," he murmurs, far too pleased with himself. "All naughty girls just need a bit of tough love sometimes, isn't that right, my love?" He coos, this time lightly tapping my ass. "Are you gonna be a good girl for me now?"

I could not bring myself to respond, only managing a shaky thumbs-up.

And then he does it again. And again.

I shudder, arching my back into him as he continues his onslaught, his touch shifting between sharp swats and soothing caresses, the push and pull driving me mad. He was right—a bit of rough-loving is always welcome in my books.

"You're being very cooperative, my dearest," he titters, his voice a teasing lilt as he leans in, his lips ghosting over the back of my neck. "I do love it when you're cooperative." He then goes quiet for a moment, and I realize that he is examining my parts on full display. "But I suppose it has something to do with how absolutely soaked you are, hmm?"

I barely have the breath to respond. Not that he seems to mind.

But I certainly feel the soak seeping through my already-drenched panties. I can barely see him with how he is leaning over me, and I am not trying to either. There is something that is inherently relaxing that turns me on equally as much as I sink into the mattress, my head resting against the soft sheets, and eyes lazily drooped.

His hand comes down one final time in a harsh and grand finale-like spank. It jolts me from the pure power alone, but I find no pain in it—only releasing a broken cry of satisfaction.

There is something so intoxicating about it, isn't there? Especially when it is done by a being as beautiful inside and out as the Doctor, and his current ever-youthful and handsome face helps quite a bit too.

The sharp sting that fades into warmth, the way his hands command and soothe in equal measure. It shouldn't make me feel this... peaceful. But it does.

I'm strong—stronger than most, built from something beyond human limitations. My body has been honed to endure, to conquer, to resist. Pain has always been an afterthought, a dull inconvenience rather than a deterrent. And yet, here, in his hands, I feel it. I feel every strike, every caress, every ounce of control shifting between us like a current.

And I want it.

More than that—I trust him with it.

No one has ever had the power to push me like this, to pull me apart and leave me breathless. But the Doctor—he makes me feel something real, something powerful, something alive.

And god, the way I'm throbbing. The heat pooling between my thighs is unbearable, the dampness soaking into my already ruined panties. My body is begging for more, for his touch, for his hands—hell, I wouldn't mind them around my throat, pressing, controlling, taking. Or even a good slap or two across my cheek, just to see how deep this feeling goes.

I bite my lip at the thought, only to be yanked from it by the Doctor's low chuckle.

"Oh, look at you," he purrs, dragging his fingers over the curve of my ass, feather-light and teasing. "All relaxed and lovely, properly well-behaved now. Did you like that, dearest, do you feel good?"

I huff out a breath, fighting back a smile. "Oh, shut up."

"Not a chance." His fingers hook beneath the waistband of my panties, tugging them downward, slow and deliberate. "But since you're already so pliable for me..." He leans in, voice a silk-wrapped dagger against my ear. "How about you let your Doctor take a look at that prettiness between your legs, yeah, princess?"

A new wave of heat encompasses me.

Princess. That's new. He said it happily, thoughtlessly—not a real nickname. Simply one of affection, a passing thought given the situation. A welcome one nonetheless. 

He manages to tug my wet knickers off and tosses them off to the side. He leans further down my body, his fingers rub over my thighs and I can feel him examining me. Breath warm against my sex and I whimper—face burning despite my efforts to not blush.

"Oh, you are just so pretty, aren't you, Cooper Starre?" He coos kindly and I make a noise of embarrassment.

I can practically feel him smirk in response.

Finally, after moments of anticipation and the Doctor taking his time to just look, he strokes through my folds, pushing aside damp pubic hair—his touch almost tickling in nature. He continues to tease the edges of my folds, occasionally dipping into the wetness that's been building since we argued hours ago. A breathy sigh escapes my lips as he explores, his touch sending sparks.

"Look at all this..." He hums in response to my wetness. "So so wet," he whispers, his voice full of satisfaction.

I feel a flush rise to my cheeks as he speaks. He seems to know that him talking in such a manner gets me going good.

"Are you calling me a slut?" I managed to hiss, a heavy edge of sass to my voice.

Unfortunately, the Doctor only chuckled and responded within seconds. "For me?" He mused. "Most definitely."

The Doctor's fingers slide deeper, probing the entrance to my body. I feel a surge of excitement as he pauses, his fingers hovering at the threshold. For a moment, he simply teases me.

Then, in a swift motion, he shoves three fingers inside me.

I gasp, my body arching into his touch as he fills me with his fingers. The sensation is like nothing I've ever felt before, well technically I have felt this before considering I have been fingered in the past, but this time is different from the rest. And that isn't just me being a pathetic starry-eyed wench.

The Doctor's fingers move inside me. My walls begin to tighten around him, my muscles clenching and releasing in time with his movements. A low moan builds in my throat, growing louder as he continues to finger me.

I can barely even see the Doctor as I am still pinned beneath him, his bare chest touching my back. His long fingers continue reaching deep into my center from behind.

I can; however, feel the beads of sweat gathering between us. Feel the way his brown locks flopped forward, the edges hitting the top of my head. I did not need to be looking at the Doctor to know how his big green eyes were filled with every ounce of mirth and glee possible.

Seeing as the Doctor is relatively demi-sexual in his eleventh hour, I was slightly surprised that he could still dish it out this well.

I would expect him to want to do the bare minimum when it comes to sex.

"You like this, don't you?" He buzzes, his voice a knowing prod. "You like being filled—being taken by me..."

I nod, my head moving in a jerky motion. Words are beyond me now—all I can do is feel, and respond to the sensations coursing through my body.

The Doctor's fingers move faster, the slick sounds echoing through the room and his touch growing more insistent. The slick sounds became even wetter as he wiggles his fingers in me. And it becomes even better—harder—to not fall apart when his thumb begins playing with my clit.

"Come on, Cooper," The Doctor breathes, his voice a gentle urging. His thumb rubs faster. "Let go, my sweet Cooper. Let me see you come apart..."

I'm on the edge, teetering to a fall just as the Doctor's fingers slow. His thumb freezing. He pauses, his touch hovering inside me, and I feel myself trembling. Annoyance flares in me—I had been close to what was no doubt to be an amazing orgasm.

"What are you waiting for?" I snap, my voice barely audible but annoyed.

I try to buck against him, but he holds me down with a scary amount of strength.

The Doctor's laughter is like a spark of electricity, sending a shiver down my spine. "I'm waiting for you to ask me nicely," he breathes, his voice teasing but dark in that way he typically saved for an enemy. "What do you want me to do to you, Cooper?" He gives me incentive by thrusting his fingers sharply and I shuddered. "C'mon, Cooper, say it... be my good girl and ask me nicely... I know you can..."

I take a deep breath, my body still trembling.

Stubbornness ran through me, but with another twist and pinch to my folds, the Doctor had me swallowing my pride and crying.

"Please," I finally begged, my voice barely audible. "Please make me cum—I want to cum, I need to... I need it, I need you, Doctor..."

The Doctor's fingers move again, faster than before. His thumb picks back up.

Back and forth. Side to side. Back and forth.

Another cry builds in my throat, growing louder as he continues to play with me.

"Cum for me, PJ," his voice was a gentle command. "You cum right now, Doctor's orders..." He ordered, thumb pressing into my clit firmer.

It's too much.

The sensation of his fingers shoved inside me, stroking and probing becomes too much to bear. I'm going to burst—and his words only make it happen that much quicker.

It's so good, he's so good.

My heat convulses around the Doctor's fingers as he pushes me into release. A loud and keening wail escapes; I feel torn apart by the sheer intensity of it. My vision blurs and my senses are overwhelmed by the sensation of his fingers moving inside me, coaxing out every last drop of ecstasy.

It's all him, he surrounds me—it's only the Doctor. Always about the Doctor.

It's the greatest relief in the world, and I am rocking back against him searching for more.

I'm aware of the Doctor's intensity in watching me, a grin on his face and his gaze burning with an inner fire that seems to fuel my own. His cock stands at attention, straining against the fabric of his TARDIS blue boxers, and I feel a pang of desire to touch it, to taste it.

But for now, I'm trapped in the vortex of my own orgasm, unable to move or think or do anything but feel. My body is a tight, clenched thing, my muscles spasming around the Doctor's playful fingers. The sheets are bunched in my fists, and I'm weeping, the sound torn from my throat like a prayer.

He groans as I finish all over his hand.

"Good girl... look at you..."

He really is a Doctor. My Doctor.

And then, all too soon, it's over.

The Doctor stops his motions and pulls his fingers out of me with a loud, wet pop, and I'm left feeling empty. But only for a moment, for in the next I yelp and my body jumps in surprise as a gentle and short smack is given to my folds.

The Doctor chuckles before chiming out a pleased sound as he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean. His other hand is kneading my bum comfortingly, his body pressed close to mine.

I manage to tease out a question despite my body still shaking from the orgasm. "So, how do I taste?" I ask, my voice edged with curiosity.

I really do want to know.

The Doctor titters and bluntly tells me, "Sour—you should drink cranberry juice." He chuckles before adding. "Or vorn-vorn juice..."

I feel a pang of offense, and I lightly slap him, but I'm laughing because I know he's just trying to provoke me. And even so, it's a pussy, obviously it tastes sour. Don't be fooled: people eat pussy and suck cock because it's hot, not because of flavor.

But then the Doctor adds, his voice lower, "But your taste is utterly addicting, I can't get enough of it..." And I feel a shiver run down my spine because I know that he's telling the truth. I can see it in his eyes, the way he's looking at me like I'm a feast he can't get enough of. "Love it, in fact..."

For a moment I thought he might dive back in, but this time with his tongue.

Instead, the Doctor pulls his fingers from his mouth and rolls me over, his hands gentle but insistent. My knees fall outward into a butterfly position naturally.

He leans over me, nudging his face toward my chest as his mouth closes over my nipples, and I feel a jolt as he begins to suckle. He seems to know—from his past with future me, no doubt—just how sensitive I am there, just how much I love my breasts being messed with, and he's taking full advantage of that knowledge.

I'm still feeling the aftershocks of my orgasm, but his suckling is adding to the intensity and I feel myself starting to build again, the perks of being a woman—we can have orgasm after orgasm after orgasm. Although, it takes a truly talented person to coax multiple orgasms out of a woman.

But here the Doctor is, body strewn over my own—sucking my right tit with his eyes closed peacefully and hardness poking into my leg. He knew that he could bully me into as many orgasms as he wanted, he was smug about it too. In the next moment, his hips started moving—the alien lazily thrusting his hardness against my side.

I noticed the slightest bit of gold liquid beginning to seep through his underwear.

Through his attention, I brought my hand down stroking him through the fabric of the pants. He sighed in pleasure, and my hand moved up to grab at the waistband of his underwear. The final piece of clothing that separates us.

Tugging the Doctor's pants down, his hard cock springs free hitting his stomach with a bounce.

It looks just as I remembered from our dream—a very good size, with dark, neatly trimmed hair surrounding the base.

The Doctor's not a hairy man, but there's just enough to hint at his masculinity in this eleventh generation. I wrap my hand around his soft shaft, stroking him gently, and he groans, his head falling to my shoulder.

His sucking stops, and he bites down on my shoulder, causing me to hiss out in surprise. "So you actually do bite..." I say, a mixture of pain and pleasure in my voice.

The Doctor mutters "naturally" against my skin, "but not as badly as you bite, love," he adds, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine.

He kisses where he bit, his lips gentle before he reaches down and lines himself up with my entrance. I can feel his eagerness, his desperation to be inside me.

The Doctor rubs his member through my folds a few times, slicking himself up and causing immense pleasure while doing so. I whimpered, clutching at him as his cock rubbed over my sensitive clit.

He kissed the side of my head, his hand coming up to thread through my long hair as he continues to easily thrust through my folds. If he kept doing that... kept rubbing and poking at my clit with that thick cock of his—he was bound to make me cum. Embarrassingly fast at that, so I didn't dare mention it him.

In the next moment, the Doctor stopped rubbing and pushed into me with an open mouth of rapture. I threw my head back, gasping at the sensation. He holds me still as he fills me, his thickness stretching me just a bit, and his length hitting that squishy spot in the back that makes me see stars. I feel like I'm being stuffed to the brim—as though he's pouring himself into me, and it's almost too much to bear.

The Doctor is gasping as he fills me up, his body trembling with each movement. I am hit with a startling realization; this is probably him losing his virginity as Doctor Eleven.

I look up at him, my eyes meeting his, and I ask, "Have you done this before... as Eleven?"

He pauses, his chest heaving, and looks at me with a mixture of something unrecognizable. "No," he admits. "This is my first time... as Eleven. So, don't judge me if my stamina isn't... as good as usual." He ends with a chuckle.

I snicker as well—still feeling entirely stuffed.

"I don't know what you're usual stamina is, Doctor," I admitted. "You've had sex with PJ of the future, remember? This is my first time with you..."

Something seems to click in his eyes at my words, and he suddenly adorns soft eyes and an adoring smile as he leans down and pecks my nose.

"And just how would you know if I've coupled with future you, dearest?" The Doctor teases, and of course, he would be the type to use the word 'couple' rather than sex.

As he is actively fucking me, at that.

"It's kinda obvious, you're not subtle, old man," I groan, head falling back against the pillow as the Doctor moves again and finally bottoms out.

The last time I had sex had been with John Smith a few months back—before I started traveling with the Doctor.

For a long moment, he is silent—still—both of us basking in the feeling of being connected in the most primal way possible. The near-universal way of almost all species of mating.

The Doctor huffs. "How is this for subtle?"

And before I could react, he suddenly grabbed both my wrists in his right hand and held them above my head. His left hand was holding onto my hip tightly as he dragged his cock outward and forced it back inside in one powerful motion.

I squawked embarrassingly loudly. In response, the Doctor moved his hips again slamming into me while staring with beseeching eyes.

His wordless message was clear: you're mine tonight.

He wanted me to feel it. Feel the realness of it. Feel him taking me. Having his way with me. Fucking me.

It was official—the Doctor would remain in control this time, he would be guiding our first time together physically, playing my body like an instrument only he knew, and I was more than happy with that.

We were both natural switches, but I certainly enjoyed the bottom more than I liked to admit. The Doctor seemed to know this. He seemed to know a lot about my body and the things that got me going.

A keening noise escaped my throat as he began to hammer away. It surprised me because I never would have guessed the Doctor to be this rough naturally, he seemed like he'd be a softer man in this regard, but then again, somehow this makes more sense.

After all, in many ways, this was him releasing his pent up frustrations. He was taking it out on my pussy.

And Jesus—did it feel wonderful.

The Doctor then threw one of my legs outward and redoubled his efforts. He was so deep inside me that it became overwhelming and my eyes rolled—I didn't know whether to implore him to stop or beg him to fuck me harder.

It was a welcome feeling; to be fucked by the TimeLord. Claimed by him.

The Doctor continued to drive into me, his pace slowing, but the intensity of each thrust only grew. His balls hit me with every push sending shivers down my spine, and the wetness between us started to encase our lower halves, making every movement feel like a sensual, sloppy kiss. I was trapped beneath him, my leg still thrown outward to give him better access, and my wrists pinned above my head. But I didn't feel trapped—I felt claimed, possessed, and utterly at his mercy.

Oh... but I didn't want him to have any mercy on me.

The Doctor's eyes locked onto mine, his gaze burning with a fierce inner fire. "Oh, it's like a nice, warm, wet, hug," he enunciated each word with a strong thrust of his hips, his voice low. I gasped, my eyes closing as he continued to fill me to the brim.

Missionary had never felt so good.

The sound of the bed creaking and hitting the wall filled the room along with the moist sounds of him sliding in and out of my core. My pleasure-ridden frantic cries and his groaning may have also been thrown into the mix. Pure sounds of sex. Of what love can sound like—physically, at least.

I managed to choke out a few words. "I really thought you didn't like sex," I said, my eyes fluttering open to meet his. "You said it's too gross and too animalistic and too messy..."

The Doctor chuckled, his chest vibrating with the sound. "I don't think those were my exact words..."

"They were," I quickly cut him off through a loud whine.

He rolled his eyes and gave a prominent thrust at my sass. "Well, I'll admit it's not my favorite activity," he said honestly, his hips pushing into me with a new slow and powerful rhythm. He gripped my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. "But with you," he said, his voice dripping with sincerity, "sign me up any time."

I laughed, the sound torn from my throat as he continued to shove himself in and out of me. "Oh hell—you really are a TimeLord of many talents, Doctor," I teased, my voice breathy.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I have my moments," he said, his hips picking up the pace once more. "But I think I'm about to have a very memorable one." He ended with a sweet kiss to my nose.

I gasped, my body arching beneath him as he drove into me with renewed intensity. His lips moved, brushing against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "You're so wet, PJ, naughty girl..." he clicked, his voice a purr. "So hot, so tight. I think I'm going to lose myself in you. Would you like that? I bet you would—you always like it rough..."

I whimpered, my legs wrapping m around his waist as he continued to pound into me.

I whispered back, my voice barely audible over the sound of our ragged breathing and slapping skin. "Please. I want it..."

The Doctor's eyes flashed with excitement.

The bed hit the wall harder—louder. And it was now so wet that the Doctor was able to slide in as if his cock was made specifically for my heat.

My body coiled tighter and tighter as he thrust into me. His brows furrowed in focus—and I could practically taste his want to see me cum first. The Doctor was barely hanging on, ready to explode.

My Doctor's hips continued to move, his cock stroking my inner walls with gentle yet firm pressure, I felt myself teetering on the edge of a precipice—again.

And then, out of nowhere, the Doctor delivered a thrust that was perfectly calibrated to send me tumbling over the edge. His member seemed to find a hidden switch, a secret button that only he knew existed, and with a gentle yet firm pressure, he triggered a response that was both instantaneous and overwhelming.

Surprise overcame me at how suddenly I came, my body shuddering beneath him as he continued to have his way with me, his hips pounding out a rhythm that seemed to match the beating of my heart.

My body clenched, my muscles locking up as a wave of unadulterated delight washed over. It was as if my entire being had been reduced to a single, throbbing nerve, and the Doctor was the catalyst that set it all off. I felt myself contracting, my heat clamping tightly around his shaft as I was consumed by a sensation that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

I couldn't control it.

My mind went blank, my thoughts dissolving into sensation. I was aware of nothing except the feeling of the Doctor above me cooing praises, him inside me, the gentle yet firm pressure that seemed to be drawing every last ounce from my body.

"Well, look at you cumming all over me. Again. What a good girl...!"

I could only whimper in response, eyes screwed shut.

His hand came and stroked my cheek, and he kissed my nose with a chuckle.

It was as if I had been transported to a different realm, a place where nothing existed except the two of us, locked together in a dance of fire.

As I came down from the high of the orgasm, I felt the Doctor's body tense, his muscles locking up. He let out a heaving noise, and I could sense the struggle he was having, barely hanging on without cumming himself.

I opened my eyes then, meeting his passionate green ones almost shyly, still absorbed in pleasure. His eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled, placing a chaste kiss on my cheek as he continued to move within me. He was now chasing his own release.

And then, with that smile on his face—voice smug, he spoke in my ear, "Oh, good... even in this generation, I still have it."

His words had me quirking a brow, and laughing internally at the fact that he really just had to pat himself on the back.

The words were barely out of his mouth before his hips moved sloppily and he gave in.

"Hell, this generation's body is good. Oh, stars, yes, yes, yes..."

I bounced under the force of his movements, but the Doctor kept a steady grip on me to make sure I didn't get too far away from his cock. His member pulsed—once, twice before I was flooded with warm, golden emission. He shuddered, his entire body trembling with the force of his orgasm.

His sounds grew louder, more intense, and I could see the sheer relief washing over him as he finally let go.

"Oh—oh—OH..." He wailed.

It was as if all the tension, all the pressure, had been building up inside him, waiting to be unleashed. And now, it was all pouring out of him like he was saying; look, do you see what you've done to me, take back all this stress you've caused.

The Doctor then buried his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin as he hid from the world, lost in the intensity of his own pleasure. I stroked the back of his hair, feeling the softness of his locks as I held him through the storm of his release. His body was trembling, his muscles clenched, as he rode out the waves of his long orgasm.

I could feel it, so hot as it filled me. Warmer than anything I'd ever known, burning. But in a good way. In a perfect way.

It seemed to go on forever—longer than a human male could cum surely—the Doctor's cock continuing to pulse, to release, as he thrust and emptied himself into me.

He shuddered, again and again, each movement sending a tiny thrill through my own body. His noises grew softer, more muted, but they didn't stop. He was utterly spent, completely addicted to the sensation of being inside me, just as I was addicted to him being in me.

As the moments ticked by, the Doctor's movements slowed, his thrusts becoming less frequent, less intense—lazier. But he didn't stop, not yet. He was still lost in the haze of his own pleasure, still riding the waves of his release. Showed me his love, gave me his love.

I could feel it in the way that he moved inside me, in how his hearts pounded against my chest, his breath hot against my clammy skin. He seemed to struggle in coming back to reality, leaving chaste kisses on my neck with each lazy thrust.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the Doctor's body stilled.

It was silent for a long few moments.

"How many years worth of built up semen was that, old man?" I suddenly joked, raunchy, my voice gravelly and exhausted—broken in the best way possible.

It was the same question I'd asked after he came in our shared dream.

The Doctor momentarily moved his head from the crook of my neck and all but grunted his answer. Classy, but what he said made my heart swell.

"2 years, 7 months, 8 days, 11 hours, and 2 minutes 45 seconds..." The Doctor told me simply, eyes closing.

He lay here, his face buried in my neck, his cock still deep inside me, as we both caught our breath. The room was silent, the only sound was the quiet rustle of our breathing, the soft beat of our hearts. It was as if time itself had stopped, leaving only the two of us, lost in the aftermath of our passion.

The television was still playing through the dim room serving as the main source of light cascading shadows onto our naked forms.

In the quiet, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. It was as if we had created our own little world, our own private universe, where nothing else mattered except the two of us. The Doctor's body was relaxed, his muscles soft.

And as I looked at the Doctor, still lost in the haze of his pleasure, I knew that I am exactly where I wanted to be.

But; of course, the dark reminders pulled at my mind. How can I let him do this, love me, when he doesn't know anything close to my truths—to my past?

Sure, he knows me as a person, but he also doesn't know what I am, what I have done... what I plan to do.

The Doctor's breath was warm against my skin, his body a solid, steady weight over mine. He hadn't moved, hadn't pulled away. Neither had I. We remained tangled, skin to skin, still joined in the most intimate way, though the fire had cooled to smoldering embers.

His hearts were slowing, a rhythmic double beat against my ribs, a grounding pulse in the aftermath of something I couldn't name. Or maybe I just didn't want to.

Because naming things made them real.

And if this was real—if this was truly happening—then I had to face the truth of it.

The Doctor and I had just coupled, copulated, mated, fucked; he had sex with a freak multiversal half-breed bound to nothing but herself and now him to a degree. And he didn't even know.

Guilt stirred in my chest, coiling tight like a snake preparing to strike. I should've felt worse. I should've been running every possibility through my mind, dissecting every moment, every consequence, every way this could go wrong.

But... I didn't.

Because here, in his arms, the world was quiet.

There were no consequences, no looming threats, no violent pasts or uncertain futures. Just us. Just this.

The television flickered in the dim lighting, its glow casting soft shadows over our bodies, turning the moment into something ethereal, unreal. His fingers traced slow, mindless patterns against my side, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek lulled me deeper into something dangerous.

Peace.

We did not need to talk, no more words had to be said as we rested against one another, basking in each other's presence. But the truth loomed over my shoulder like the inescapable setting sun.

Our violent delights will have violent ends.

[author's note]

okay, guys, as far as smut is concerned; how was that? be honest. i tried my best to keep the doctor as in character as possible, but it's hard considering he truly is not a sexual person to the public. but y'know, pj stay seducing that man lolol.

this scene obviously happened behind closed doors, and i envision this is how eleven would be when making love to another. very intuitive to his lover; providing what they want and finding joy and pleasure in that.

so yeah, hopefully, it was okay—i tried to key back on the description but as can be seen, i did not do that great of a job at that. oops.