Work Text:
Kal'tsit prided herself on her immaculate ability to balance risks and rewards.
A quick romp with the Doctor in the landship's Convalescent Garden put a test to that vaunted capability.
There was a bit of fortune to their dalliance that some of the flora and foliage had grown large enough to obscure them from view. Still, she was being forced to stifle every squeak, mewl, and lecherous pant before she could even speak properly. Her skin was flushed red and soaked with sweat, her vision obscured by the tears welling up in her eyes.
But the noises were far from the only difficulty she faced. While the Doctor had the tact to undress her in a manner that wouldn't wrinkle her uniform or raise eyebrows, his style was fast and firm, quick but effective. So much so that Kal'tsit soon found herself being taken from behind while standing, legs wobbly and her knees quaking.
The pose itself wasn't much of an issue as it gave her something to brace herself against. And admittedly, the sudden shift in control came as a welcome surprise.
Another slap against her soaked nethers drew her back into the moment. The shock rippled across her wide, needy pupils and her drooling jaws. Hands flexed tight, gripping the tattered, overturned planter in front of her, clawing trenches into the soil.
The Great Lynx had set the expectation to prepare for rough treatment. She liked things rough now and again. Still, despite all her experience with him, the vigor of the Doctor's thrusts pushed her farther beyond what she was willing to handle.
A barrage. That's what this was. Rhythm, depth, and power honed to a high degree that left the Feline barely able to think of any possible way to prolong her enjoyment. Rather, she was being completely overtaken. Consumed by a feeling too divine to stay her tongue yet she was reduced to a quivering, wheezing mess.
Kal'tsit felt like a Burdenbeast being rutted in the mating season.
Another harsh strike against her ass brought her more bliss than she dared to admit. It sent her staggering against the poor planter. Hands scrambled wildly for purchase against the soil-covered, shoddily cobbled thing. Such was the effect of the position they were currently in: the Doctor had found the point where he could exert the most pressure, and she could feel her innards reforming to fit his thrusts—the flesh pushing inward, becoming flush with the spot where he would spear her deepest, where he would release the strongest impression of their tryst.
Even among her strained moans, her ears could still pick up the Doctor's sweet whispers. It was a mixture of platitudes and sweet, sweat words, little gems interwoven into his words. Some pieces were punctuated with the lewd, wet sounds of his palms striking her rear and her cunt, while others were pared down to grunts and groans.
So many thoughts flashed in her fever-wracked mind. Sordid. Erotic. Intrusive. Sinful.
Love.
Was it a thought of his? Hers? Did it matter? An unwritten phrase flitted about, daring her to say it in this state. Daring her to remain so selfish as to ask for such a thing in the heights of their tryst, here where lies and deceit would better thrive.
Sharp curses left her lips. Her eyelids fluttered shut. It was getting harder to even keep awake, to even hang on and not let go. Tiredness hung overhead, yet Kal'tsit's hands lashed out and her claws dug deep into the soil. Behind, the Doctor only drove harder into her from below, his voice a low chant in a broken, gravelly tone.
His pounding forced her heart to throb in double-time. Pressure built up in her loins to the point where everything below became sensitive to the touch. There was a thrill in the act. An undeniable sense of daring from having sex in a public space where anyone could catch the two of them in their rutting.
What has this man done to her?
Deep, deep, deep. Into her core. Thrust. Hammering away, spreading her, splitting her, reshaping her with a roughness that made her arch her back and squeal in pure ecstasy. The Doctor never ceased. He might be smiling. Or focused. Or frowning. All he did was pump and sway and buck, slamming again and again at the same angle and the same tempo. Over and over. Pulling back. Squeezing her tight. Holding himself.
Intimate.
In those fleeting instances when he squeezed and sheathed himself balls deep, Kal'tsit felt her rationality give way to animalism, a form of existence both beneath and higher than what one could have as a woman.
The Doctor breathed and her body shivered. The Doctor sucked on her flesh and her body bloomed bright red with passion. The Doctor placed his hand on her stomach and her body writhed without mercy. His mouth pressed against the base of her neck, teeth sinking and testing her, and Kal'tsit found that words failed her—completely.
Her body had been used as a toy, and somehow, someway, she took pleasure in it. Not a shred of coy resistance came forward. There was no sense of modesty holding her back. Only the pleasure of the mating, the grinding, and the mounting remained, each sensation a little closer to her edge.
"You love me, don't you?" the Doctor suddenly whispered into her ear. "My sweet attendant. My pretty kitty. Swaying from side to side. Do you?"
Kal'tsit was too far out of her wits. "Yes." She managed that much at least. "Y-Yessssss..."
There was a chuckle. Or a sigh. What she heard might not have even been heard at all. What she felt, though, was much more compelling.
A flick of his hips caused another pulse of warmth to shoot through her, sending the last of her muscles clamping down around his intrusion. The knot of pressure building at her base fluttered and swelled, and her mouth fell open wide as an endless groan fell out.
Kal'tsit came. No other way to put it. She lost complete control of her thoughts and reactions. Her legs trembled, her arms shook, her heart pounded and pounded and she opened her eyes just in time to see white invade her field of view, consuming every surface.
Stars prickled her eyes. Liquid burned beneath her lashes, the world fuzzy with a blend of wonder, exhaustion and dread. The Doctor had achieved climax, unloading in her to a point she was well and truly spent.
There, in her state, nothing made her soul and heart sing as their shared union. He had taken every last crumb of intimacy she possessed, claiming her, marking her, branding her with the proof of his very being.
The air thinned. Muscles refused to do anything but flex and relax in tandem with the Doctor's heaving. Her only sign of clarity came from his fingers kneading her hindquarters. Some part of the woman still tried to make sense of it. At what point had it escalated from a random encounter to her facing the planter and being fucked into delirium?
At least the Gardening Club members were at the mess hall for the afternoon. Their chances of running into people using the garden might've been small, but Kal'tsit wasn't ready to deal with the rumors the next morning.
"N-No more," she panted, dragging her head from the planter. So much dirt on her face. "I have other duties to attend."
The Feline expected the Doctor to slip free and move away. Instead, she found him pressing a palm over her back.
"One more, Kal."
It was not a question. Nor was it a request. Not even a subtle way of coaxing.
In the end, Kal'tsit inwardly questioned her sanity as her legs dutifully spread themselves for another round. She couldn't, wouldn't, and shouldn't refuse. Never.
Only this time, his member was pressing against a wholly different orifice.
Green eyes flashed. "Doctor, not the—!"
Kal'tsit squealed like a stuck boar.
Pain and pleasure lanced through her spine. Searing stabs of agonizing delight along with shame, debauchery, and confusion. Kal'tsit didn't even notice when her body reacted in accordance to the new sensation, the feeling of her muscles stretching and tightening as it accepted the form probing at her third exit.
Ragged, choking gasps spilled free from her throat. Yet no words would come. All the Great Lynx could do was ride the rush—this delirious feeling that threatened to send her head rolling.
Harder than ever before, and far deeper, and more... excruciating. Kal'tsit was struggling to think, struggling to do anything except dig her claws through the soil, the thin blades of grass, the bits of litter that somehow found themselves overturned as it scraped, the grime and sweat collecting on her hands, and the soil from her own finger-pads scraping along the edge of the planter. Her thoughts refused to settle into coherent thought.
She wanted to shove the body of the man behind her away. Yet, in all her righteous fury, the Feline chose to remain still, legs and muscles still spreading as if welcoming him further in. Just as she had done for him in the other two holes this body possessed, she received, engulfing his throbbing tip to the back of her passage and squeezing for dear life.
Hot breath tickled her neck. A hand rose to wrap around her midsection, fingers gliding along smooth, sweat-covered skin. That warm, heavy embrace... and those soft gasps filling her ears. Warmth and light washed over her, and Kal'tsit exhaled noisily, her senses awash in a mess of conflicting feelings.
The world swam. Everything was blurry and muddy. She had no purchase. She had no foothold.
The Doctor. A selfish, despicable pig. Of course, with that said, she couldn't bring herself to hate the man over again. Or maybe she could, but that wouldn't mean it was logical. Every fiber of her being was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. That fact couldn't be refuted.
Because of that, Kal'tsit cursed herself, cursed her fate, and cursed the cock spearing into her ass.
She needed this. In more ways than one. Some terrible piece of her craved this carnal, filthy union. His member pierced deep into her, reaching untouched places, places no finger or toy would dare go. The man used her like a plaything, taking her thoroughly and completely.
Take me. Take me. Take me. Take me and do what you will, you bastard.
With each tug and pull and shake, Kal'tsit felt her focus snap. The sensations took her away, further and farther, unmade by each steady push. Her eyes fluttered half-shut. The first signs of another orgasm were there. His guttural groans. Her high-pitched wail.
She took him in. All the way. Right until his chin was nearly resting against her ears, breaths so close they were nearly her own. The warmth surrounding her could become maddening.
Then he spoke. It was no longer mere sweet nothings and filth. There was something else this time, something that touched deep within her heart, dredging up old wounds and freshly-remade scars.
With his next few words, Kal'tsit didn't quite know how to respond. How could she? After all, there was no logic behind such a reaction from the man amid such depravity. This wasn't the time nor the place for this man to act out his madness, and yet—
"Stay with me. Please," the Doctor rasped in-between feverish thrusts. "I need you. Stay."
Kal'tsit gritted her teeth, jaw clenched and eyes screwed shut. How dare he voice thoughts that lay hidden inside her. Something bitter and acrid fell on her tongue.
No. No. You don't need me. You need your ghost. You need Her.
But as the broken man spilled his seed in her bowels, and as the Great Lynx came with a sob and a choked-off cry, an ache that far surpassed her already bruised and swollen rear formed in her chest.
It was then and there that Kal'tsit knew it was never something to be questioned in the first place. Come what may, this man would never let her rest easy. Her heart, her love, her existence belonged to the Doctor.
For better, or for worse.