Title: Out of Control
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: 1, 50ficlets
Prompt: 36, Sex
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor. Please do not sue.

***

Sex. He missed that, the Doctor thought, turning over in bed and pummeling his pillow. He missed it more than he'd ever have thought he could.

How long had it been now? He couldn't really remember, but it seemed like forever since anyone had touched him. There hadn't even been the casual touches, the little hugs of friendship. There had been .... nothing.

That was the most depressing thing. That there hadn't even been a companion to give him some sort of friendship, anything that would take away his loneliness. There had been no one to talk to, no one who could fill those hours, days, weeks, months.

Saying that it was depressing was a terrible understatement. There was really no word for how it felt. In all of the many languages of the universe that he understood, he couldn't find a single word to express his emotions.

It was a bit strange that he should feel this way, really. Gallifreyans weren't inherently sexual -- though of course as a race, they weren't entirely sexless. They had needs, obviously, but those could usually be sublimated.

Only for some reason, he was having a hard time doing that. Maybe it was because he'd been amongst humans so much. He'd grown more like them.

That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, was it? He'd often wanted to be more like humans, at least to be able to understand them more than he did. But that was never going to happen -- he might love the human race, but he would never be more like them than he already was.

It seemed that he was already too much like them for comfort, if this was any indication. This wasn't one of the ways he'd wanted to be more like a human.

It wasn't that he hadn't been sexual before. He had, of course. He'd always enjoyed sex more than most of his fellow Gallifreyans, but he didn't think that was a bad thing. Why shouldn't something so pleasant be enjoyed?

He disagreed with most of his race, who seemed to think that sex was only there for .... well, recreation. He'd discovered that there was much more to it than mere enjoyment, and that he had more of a craving for it than he would have thought possible.

Especially now, when he was alone and frustrated.

This wasn't something he'd envisioned ever happening to him, and it was annoying in the extreme. Who would have thought that he, of all people, could ever become a prisoner of his physical desires? He would have dismissed anyone who'd suggested it to him.

But it was happening, whether he wanted it to or not. And he didn't like it, not one bit. It made him feel too vulnerable, as though he wasn't in control of himself.

And if there was one thing that he didn't like, it was being out of control. It didn't happen often, but when it did, it was usually in some sort of spectacular way. Thankfully, though, there was no one here to see this.

No one but the Tardis, and she certainly wouldn't mind. It wasn't as though she hadn't seen him take care of his .... errr .... physical needs too many times to count, both by himself and with others. She would turn a blind eye.

Or would she? He had to wonder if she wasn't in some way shaking her head (if she'd had one to shake), and laughing at him. Giving him a kind of "I told you so" that would make him shake a fist and growl -- if there wasn't an element of truth in what she might have said.

Well, if she was, he'd just ignore it. Not much else that he could do, anyway. Lying in bed obsessing about it wasn't going to help in the least.

With an inward curse, the Doctor turned onto his side and pulled the covers up around himself, closing his eyes and trying to clear his thoughts. Maybe if he could sleep, then he could forget about what he was missing.

Lying here trying to sleep wasn't going to help, either, he realized a few moments later. With a frustrated sigh, he tossed the covers aside, getting up and reaching for his dressing robe. He'd make a cup of tea and try to settle down with a good book.

Now, it just remained to be seen if he could keep his mind on printed words. Though considering the way he was feeling at the moment, that might be something of a challenge.

***