Repercussions (19/55)

[amberfocus]

                                                                                                 Banner by Megz33

Chapter Nineteen:  Passion

I struggle to breathe, pulling my mouth away for seconds to snatch air into my lungs before returning my lips to his. My hands go up to that beautiful thick thatch of crazy brown hair on his head and run through it. How many times have I longed to feel that silk between my fingers this way and finally, finally I am able?

He aims me towards a support strut, pressing me tightly between it and him and I wonder briefly just how far he intends to take this. His hands have moved away from my hair and brush swiftly down the sides of my body, not quite touching anything, but making me wish that he were.

I push him back from me and he looks at me, hurt in his eyes before I shake my head and reach for the buttons of his suit jacket. I hurry to unfasten them and then move to push it off his shoulders. It falls in a puddle to the floor and I reach forward, grabbing his tie and pulling him back to me for another kiss.

He is no less demanding as his tongue slides against mine, stroking, caressing, darting, as he explores the depths of my mouth. His hands move on my body again, coming to rest at my hips, yanking me back into him. My heart races so fast I feel it will burst from my chest.

Again my hands push him back, though I do not break the kiss this time, and I pull at his tie, removing it from his neck and tossing it across the room where it lands against the time rotor, then slips down the console to the floor. I start on the first few buttons of his shirt. I am determined to take this as far as I want. And I want everything.

I feel his hands at my waist, brushing briefly under the hem of my blouse and I shudder against him when his fingers brush the bit of bare skin he has revealed. I arch into him instinctively.

It is a pounding on the TARDIS doors that stops us from going further. I see a look on his face I have never seen before, his eyes are heavy, half shut, his breathing rapid, his mouth bruised from our encounter, his skin flushed. I stare at him in wonder that he has allowed the evidence of his desire to be so visible, before the repeated pounding on the door begins.

He strides quickly to the door, pulling on his big brown coat in what I know is an attempt to hide his state of arousal. He flings it open, ready to bark at whoever had the audacity to interrupt us, only to calm as he sees Brigadier General Benton standing there.

He swallows his annoyance, literally. I can hear the gulp as he does so. “What is it?” he asks, his voice gravelly, still not quite able to throw off the moment of passion we had just shared.

“We found something in the ruins,” Benton says gruffly. “It’s something that you have to see.”

“What?” I ask and my voice, too, comes out gravelly. I clear my throat and wait for an answer.

“A Dalek."