Dance with Aliens
Title: Dances with Aliens
Author: sapote3
Rating: Really depends on how you read it. All words are PG.
Word count: 250
Summary: Two people and a metaphor.
Spoilers: Written immediately after "The Doctor Dances"
Warnings: Unbetaed. I made up at least one word.
It's not that he couldn't. The steps were unfamiliar, sure, right, because he had new hands and new legs and new - everything - since the last time he'd tried it. It's that it was faintly ludicrious, is what it was, all arms and legs on the deck, the music ruddering through the floor panels, the girl ridiculously light, simian, human. He could look a Slitheen in the face and call it beautiful; he could face down a disintegrator ray without flinching. He was, after all, a Doctor. But there was something so - biological - about this, about her face so close to his: two eyes, two ears, a mouth, and the soft curve of her waist, the single pulse under his hands.
It made him faintly queasy, it did.
But it was easy, it was easy and it made her happy, and he didn't mind, when she was flushed and laughing against him, back sweaty, lonely pulse rattling along under her skin. Her ludicrious human nerve endings sparked and reacted; the accustomed but foreign reek of her pheremones rose like curry on the stove, or rain after dark . Her pupils were wide and black - a simple autonomic response, and the way she looked up into his face. A person was a person, and he smiled his unaccustomed smile, feeling, nervously, that this time his mouth was too narrow with too many teeth, and put his hands on her again.
Read or comment on my livejournal
Author: sapote3
Rating: Really depends on how you read it. All words are PG.
Word count: 250
Summary: Two people and a metaphor.
Spoilers: Written immediately after "The Doctor Dances"
Warnings: Unbetaed. I made up at least one word.
It's not that he couldn't. The steps were unfamiliar, sure, right, because he had new hands and new legs and new - everything - since the last time he'd tried it. It's that it was faintly ludicrious, is what it was, all arms and legs on the deck, the music ruddering through the floor panels, the girl ridiculously light, simian, human. He could look a Slitheen in the face and call it beautiful; he could face down a disintegrator ray without flinching. He was, after all, a Doctor. But there was something so - biological - about this, about her face so close to his: two eyes, two ears, a mouth, and the soft curve of her waist, the single pulse under his hands.
It made him faintly queasy, it did.
But it was easy, it was easy and it made her happy, and he didn't mind, when she was flushed and laughing against him, back sweaty, lonely pulse rattling along under her skin. Her ludicrious human nerve endings sparked and reacted; the accustomed but foreign reek of her pheremones rose like curry on the stove, or rain after dark . Her pupils were wide and black - a simple autonomic response, and the way she looked up into his face. A person was a person, and he smiled his unaccustomed smile, feeling, nervously, that this time his mouth was too narrow with too many teeth, and put his hands on her again.
Read or comment on my livejournal