fic: symmetry
This I wrote for tencrush to specifications and a time limit. But, like, we need more Ten/Romana II porn, yeah?
“You really have lost it, you know,” she says, pressing down on him with her hips. “Arrogance is one thing, but the god complex really is a step too far.”
“Your fault,” he says, thrusting up to meet her.
“My fault? You can’t blame me for everything.”
“You started the war,” he says, twisting suddenly and turning them over, knocking the breath from her.
“And you ended it.” She tightens her grip and draws a sound from him that is halfway between groan and growl. “Symmetry.”
The springs of the battered mattress protest the movements - few cheap hotels in Amsterdam have ever played host to two Time Lords.
“Which means there really is-” he gasps, “no higher authority any more.”
She pushes up and sideways with her full weight, flipping them over again. “Idiot.”
He moves up to draw his tongue across the pulses in her throat. “Have I mentioned,” he asks, kissing his way from her chin to her mouth, “that I hate you?”
She bites his lip and rocks her hips a little faster. “Not in as many words, but I got the feeling you might.” She steadies herself with her hands on his shoulders, digging the nails in to prove a point. “I hate you as well, if it makes you feel any better.”
An undignified yelp emerges from her as he finds a perfect angle, and she slaps him when he smirks at her. “Arrogant bastard.”
He does it again. “Bitch,” he adds, because he is worried that he’s losing the argument on points.
She pushes him down and pushes a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m not the one who blew up our planet.” She’s close, from the looks of things. He’s tempted to just leave her frustrated, but then she might actually kill him.
“And like I said,” he rolls them over again and thrusts into her with little tenderness, “that’s your fault for starting the war in the first place.” He holds her wrists down to keep her nails from his skin, and she bites into his shoulder instead. “Don’t be petty,” he manages. But then she is shuddering beneath him, loud and reckless as she comes. He’s not sure if that means he’s won or lost.
Probably he should have checked before they started.
“At least I didn’t kill everyone,” she breathes, and slaps him again when he lets go of her wrists to grip her hips and push into her faster and harder.
He realises that she’s still talking and he can’t hear a word she’s saying, because she is tight and hot and it’s a heat that is exactly right, just like the taste of her skin and the thumps of her hearts and the scent of her sweat and they are the only two people in the universe and oh.
He collapses over her and she doesn’t wait to push him off. She’s collected her clothes together before his heartbeats have slowed to something less than deafening.
“You’re not a god,” she says, before she leaves, “and you probably couldn’t even manage to fill out the application form properly.”
“You really have lost it, you know,” she says, pressing down on him with her hips. “Arrogance is one thing, but the god complex really is a step too far.”
“Your fault,” he says, thrusting up to meet her.
“My fault? You can’t blame me for everything.”
“You started the war,” he says, twisting suddenly and turning them over, knocking the breath from her.
“And you ended it.” She tightens her grip and draws a sound from him that is halfway between groan and growl. “Symmetry.”
The springs of the battered mattress protest the movements - few cheap hotels in Amsterdam have ever played host to two Time Lords.
“Which means there really is-” he gasps, “no higher authority any more.”
She pushes up and sideways with her full weight, flipping them over again. “Idiot.”
He moves up to draw his tongue across the pulses in her throat. “Have I mentioned,” he asks, kissing his way from her chin to her mouth, “that I hate you?”
She bites his lip and rocks her hips a little faster. “Not in as many words, but I got the feeling you might.” She steadies herself with her hands on his shoulders, digging the nails in to prove a point. “I hate you as well, if it makes you feel any better.”
An undignified yelp emerges from her as he finds a perfect angle, and she slaps him when he smirks at her. “Arrogant bastard.”
He does it again. “Bitch,” he adds, because he is worried that he’s losing the argument on points.
She pushes him down and pushes a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m not the one who blew up our planet.” She’s close, from the looks of things. He’s tempted to just leave her frustrated, but then she might actually kill him.
“And like I said,” he rolls them over again and thrusts into her with little tenderness, “that’s your fault for starting the war in the first place.” He holds her wrists down to keep her nails from his skin, and she bites into his shoulder instead. “Don’t be petty,” he manages. But then she is shuddering beneath him, loud and reckless as she comes. He’s not sure if that means he’s won or lost.
Probably he should have checked before they started.
“At least I didn’t kill everyone,” she breathes, and slaps him again when he lets go of her wrists to grip her hips and push into her faster and harder.
He realises that she’s still talking and he can’t hear a word she’s saying, because she is tight and hot and it’s a heat that is exactly right, just like the taste of her skin and the thumps of her hearts and the scent of her sweat and they are the only two people in the universe and oh.
He collapses over her and she doesn’t wait to push him off. She’s collected her clothes together before his heartbeats have slowed to something less than deafening.
“You’re not a god,” she says, before she leaves, “and you probably couldn’t even manage to fill out the application form properly.”