Fic: "Balancing Act" (4/8) (Doctor/Donna, Doctor Who)
Title: "Balancing Act" (4/8)
Author: ageless_aislynn
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Ten/Donna
Summary: Donna has managed to save both herself and her memories but in doing so, has she bitten off more than she...and the Doctor...can chew? An alternate end to "Journey's End."
Rating: NC-17
Length: 2,940
Spoilers: Up to 4x13 "Journey's End"
Disclaimer: Not mine or you can bet there would've been happy endings for everybody!
Beta: The fantabulous mistojen ♥! *mwah!* ♥! Special Britpick thanks also to teh loverly popcornleader ♥!
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
"This is ridiculous," Donna grumbled.
"It's called visualization," the Doctor said enthusiastically.
"No, it's called me standing here on one foot like a flippin' idiot, that's what it's called!" She glared at him as her right sole wavered above the grating. Covertly, she shifted so that her left hip could rest against the TARDIS console.
"Balance the body, balance the mind," he said, hopping easily on one Converse, then the other. "Once you're balanced, I'll set the moment in your mind so you can achieve it again."
"Well, how long is this going to take?"
"As long as it takes," he said firmly, experimenting with how high he could raise his foot to the front before he had to windmill his arms to keep from falling over. "And don't think I don't see you leaning there, you cheater."
"Oi! Come over here and say that again, why don't you?" She raised both fists but doubted she was very threatening, standing around like a bloody flamingo as she was. "Heh, this reminds me of that nice purple bloke--"
He snorted, hopping in a circle. "He was hardly nice!"
"He was perfectly nice until you started with the insults. Then I thought he was going to knock you into next week without letting you use the TARDIS!"
"He was looking down your blouse!"
"You told me to distract him, you idiot. That's what he was supposed to be doing!"
"He wasn't just looking, he was about to go... spelunking!" he said, gesturing indignantly. "And I haven't even..." He trailed off and became very interested in balancing on his other foot.
The corners of her lips twitched. "So," she purred. "You might be interested in spelunking a gal who's got one foot in the air, then?"
He met her gaze at that and his expression heated. "Oh yes," he said, approaching with a rather predatory stride. "I'd be very interested in spelunking a girl who has one foot-- or better yet, two -- in the air."
She inhaled sharply as he brushed her hair back over her shoulder, then let his fingers trail down along the column of her neck to her collarbone, his touch feather-light. He drew circles along her skin and every cell in her body felt like it was coming to attention at that sole point of contact, as if something inside of her was stretching, rising...
Balancing.
"There," he said, touching her face. "I've set the memory. Whenever you need to achieve mental balance, just think of this moment. Unfortunately, of course, that means balance will equate with me saying I'd like to spelunk you with your feet in the air."
"Oh, I'd hardly have it any other way," she said, rolling her eyes. "Can I put my foot down now?"
"Since when have you needed to ask before you put your foot down?" he teased and danced away before she could swat his arm. "Yes, you can. Come on, this is just the first part. Let's get comfortable to practice leverage."
He fished in his jacket for his screwdriver and fused the zipper of his brown pinstriped trousers shut, then winked at her. She couldn't help but grin. Any "practice" that required him to take the precaution of fusing his zip shut first had to be more fun than standing around on one foot.
A short time later, she revised that opinion. The setting had seemed promising enough: one of the spare bedrooms with a huge bed easily four times the width and length of any she'd ever seen before. They'd kicked off their shoes and climbed aboard...
...only to sit crosslegged with their eyes closed and their hands chastely on each other's faces while she tried to figure out how to mentally "shove" him. It just wasn't quite the entertainment she'd hoped for.
"You know," she said, cracking an eye open, "somebody promised me spelunking."
He cracked an eye as well. "First things first. No. No, no. You can't try to take my mind on toe-to-toe like that -- not that mind's have toes, though wouldn't that be something if they did? What sort of shoes would minds wear--?"
"Doctor!" She closed her eyes again and gave a mental push at the hazy presence hovering at the edge of her awareness. Her "hands" went through him like smoke, unable to find purchase.
"Donna..."
"I know. I'm doing it wrong. I don't need you to tell me that!" She dropped her hands and leaned back, frustrated. "I'm just a... a... A right dumb blonde!"
Shock rippled through her mind and she felt his mental presence roll back like the ocean receding from the shoreline.
"You're really a blonde?" he asked in a hushed tone. Then he grinned like a kid on Christmas morning. "Donna! You did it!"
"I did wha-AH?!?" The last part of her word was lost as he vaulted at her like an enthusiastic Golden Retriever, knocking her onto her back. Then he wrapped his arms around her and rolled them over a few times, finally ending up with her on top of him in a tangle of limbs.
"You took me off-guard," he said beaming up at her. "Words are your weapon, of course! Well, words and a mean right-cross, but words more than anything!"
She struggled to follow his logic. "So all I have to do is tell you I'm a dumb blonde when the bond opens and that's it?"
"Yes! Well, it won't work for you to tell me the same thing, I'll be expecting it. You'll have to tell me something new."
"Like--"
"Tssss! Don't waste it, save it for when it counts! But, and here's the tricky part, you have to balance and use that leverage at the exact moment when the bond opens fully."
"Yeah," she agreed, realizing that she'd gotten stuck with his legs on either side of hers and that just wasn't quite working for her nethers. Curse this bond for going in both directions! Now I'm as prone to be randy as he is!
She took a moment to reverse positions so that she was straddling him and... Ah, yes, that was quite better. And he was much more interesting in spelunking than he'd been trying to let on.
He ground against her and they both made appreciative noises. "Here's the thing," he went on breathlessly. "The bond will open fully at the culmination of the mating act -- mating bond, after all -- and so that means you have to mentally balance and then apply your leverage right as we--"
She swore under her breath. "How am I supposed to be able to juggle all of that? I'll be a bit busy at the time, won't I?"
He leered charmingly and rolled them so that he was on top. "Well, it seems to me that we need to practice then, don't we?"
She returned his leer with one of her own. "What did you have in mind?"
"Let me show you," he said, skimming down her body and pushing up her blouse enough to press a friendly kiss to her stomach. Then he paused with his hands at her waistband, looking at her questioningly.
"What? You need an engraved invitation?" she said, feigning a stern tone to cover the flutter of nervousness that went through her. Bit late for that, she thought pragmatically and told him, "We're rather all-in by this point, aren't we?"
"All-in," he agreed and she lifted her hips enough for him to slide her trousers off and toss them aside. He sat back and shed his jacket, tie and shirt in quick order, then returned to divest her of her pale pink cotton knickers.
"What?" she asked as his lips curved in a small, crooked smile.
"Knew you weren't a blonde," he murmured. "What even made you say that?"
"Just popped in my head. Now, hush," she said and he made himself comfortable, stretching out between her legs. "Just so we're clear," she added and he gave her a slightly apprehensive look. "This isn't aural with an 'au,' right? 'Cause I'd hate to get my hopes up."
He grinned. "I think it's safe to say we've progressed to 'o' by this point. Now, right before you, you know, get to the good part, mentally balance then tell me you're a blonde. That'll stand-in for whatever you'll really tell me when the bond expands, hm?"
"This still seems rather dodgy..." She trailed off as he set to work. Ahhhh, I knew that oral fixation of his would come in handy one day, she thought, luxuriating under his ministrations.
A short while later, she thought, Left. To the left, left! and to her surprise, he swirled his tongue exactly where she'd silently urged.
"Are you reading my mind?" she demanded.
Er... A little? his voice said in her head.
"Since when?" she asked sharply and he pulled back.
"My people are telepaths, Donna," he said patiently. "You and I have a bond, we're in quite intimate contact, and you're mentally shouting left, left, left! at me. I rather can't miss it. I can just pretend I don't hear your suggestions if that would make you more--"
"No, not necessary," she said quickly and gave his head a pat. "Carry on, then."
"Why, thank you," he said with a quirk of an eyebrow and resumed his efforts.
As his talented tongue and fingers were sending her rocketing towards the proverbial stratosphere a few minutes later, his mental voice interrupted: You're not balancing. When she didn't answer, he repeated, You have to balance.
She shook off his mental prodding like swatting a fly.
DONNA.
"I bloody well heard you the first two times," she snapped. "It's a little tough to worry about balancing and being blonde and all that when you're getting me all worked up here!"
Well, you have to do it, so concentrate. Honestly, it's not that hard!
She let the obvious pun pass without comment. "You can't possibly expect me to believe that you could do this either. I'd wager you couldn't count to 100 if I gave you the proper what-for!"
He raised up. "Well, you'd lose that wager," he said smugly. "I can do complicated quantum physics equations, make excellent banana pancakes, and solve a geo-political crisis, all at one time without breaking a sweat. I think mentally balancing and saying one phrase would be well within my... Where are you going?"
She sat up, pulling away from him. "Hand me my knickers."
He looked supremely stricken. "But...but...you're not done. I'm not done. Donna, we're not done!"
She crawled over and retrieved her knickers, scrambling into them while ignoring his spluttering apologies and explanations. Then she grabbed his jacket and pulled his sonic screwdriver out. "Undo your zip," she said. "We're changing places."
"Really? I mean, you don't have to, of course," he said even as he took the screwdriver from her and reversed the fusing process. Then he pitched the screwdriver aside again and pulled down his zip.
Something blue appeared. Her eyes went wide but before she could ask, he extracted and discarded what looked like a tumble dryer sheet and said nonchalantly, "Super-absorbent paper towel."
He crawled off the bed, standing so to more easily shed his trousers. "Well?" he asked, tossing the last of his clothes aside and standing naked before her.
"So, in the boxers or briefs debate, you'd be a 'neither,' eh?" she said, rather astonished to discover that the buttoned-up Time Lord favored going commando.
"Expediency," he said, clicking his tongue. "Now, are things...acceptable?"
She realized what he was asking. "Oi, fishing for compliments, are we?" she said with a snort. "I didn't hear you lavishing sweet-talk on my lady-bits while you were down there--oof!"
He leapt onto the bed next to her and sprawled across her legs. "Oh, Donna's Lady-bits," he intoned formally to the apex of her thighs. "My apologies for failing to acknowledge your grace and beauty before this moment. Truly, you are a supreme example of lady-bits and I'm quite pleased to make your acquaintance. In fact, I hope to make your acquaintance many more times and at much greater length."
And he placed a solemn kiss on the pink cotton while she dissolved into laughter.
"You are completely bonkers!" she crowed, and he grinned like the mad thing he was while she ruffled his hair into a wild mess. Then she gave him a mock-stern growl. "Over on your back, Martian boy, and let me hear you count to 100. In English. Out-loud."
"Not a problem," he said with a superior sniff.
She had to give him credit: he kept his voice remarkably steady under the circumstances up until 20. By 30, he was noticeably breathless and by 40 he sounded like he was trying to climb an increasingly steep hill. As he rolled past 50, she could feel him trembling with effort.
"Fifty-orange?" she stopped and questioned sarcastically.
"Fifty-four," he corrected, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Having a bit of struggle?" she asked in sugary concern, keeping her hands moving on him so not to give him a respite.
"I'm fine, thanks," he said in a higher pitch than normal. "Just peachy, in fact. Finely, finely fine. Fine as peach fuzz. Though peach fuzz isn't always-nnnngggggg..."
"That didn't sound much like a number, Doctor. Want to try again?" And she returned to her task, this time stepping up her game with fancier swirls of her tongue.
He said something in very desperate-sounding Gallifreyan.
Again, not a number, she thought at him, not sure if he would hear. I'm pretty sure the TARDIS would've translated if it would've been a number.
"You're a cruel woman, Donna Noble," he groaned, fisting his hands in the bedspread. But he did manage to resume counting, though there were often long, gasping pauses between numbers.
She let him get to 80 before she sped up the motions of her mouth, tongue and hands. He half-shouted a garble of "Eighty-twofournine!" and the tell-tale wave of heat flooded down her spine, letting her know he was close.
Next time, presuming there was a next time, she'd give him the full ride. But right now she was much more curious to watch, so she drew back and pumped him furiously with her hand. The boiling water sensation poured down through her, almost sending her over first; her throbbing lady-bits had certainly not forgotten that her stubborn pride had preempted her own satisfaction when she made him switch places with her.
No, I want to see, she thought with grim determination, bearing down against the feeling as it corkscrewed through her, pinning it as it tried to snap free. And she was thusly treated to an amazing display as he found his release.
"Holy..." she murmured in true wonderment a few moments later. "You're a bloody firehose, you are! I think you nailed the ceiling."
"'S good or bad?" he asked hoarsely.
She considered. "Hm. Good, I suppose. Yeah, I'd give that a try." While he laughed brokenly, she glanced down. "Oi, I should've taken my blouse off. I'm all splattered! Think the TARDIS will give me a discount on the laundry?"
"Oh, I think something can be arranged--" He cut off as she flopped onto her back next to him, their arms brushing in the process. He rolled to his side, touching her temple then pressing his hand low against her abdomen. She gasped, her muscles reflexively twitching and fluttering.
"You held off your response to my orgasm," he said, stunned. "How? You shouldn't be able to do that, not with the bond still immature and not without training."
"I just..." She struggled to explain what she really didn't understand herself. "I just didn't want it to get in my way so I... held it down somehow and it-- OH!"
She grasped at his shoulder as her back arched away from the mattress. Arousal burst through her like fireworks, so intense it was nearly painful.
"Delayed reaction," he said, sliding his palm down to rub vigorous circles through her knickers. She came so hard she saw stars and flashes of lights as afterimages for several seconds.
Belatedly, she gasped out, "I'm a dumb blonde. And I win." She wasn't properly balanced and she hadn't gotten the phrase out in time but she was claiming a victory anyway and just let him try to argue her out of it.
His head drooped to her shoulder and he chuckled. "All right, you win. But after this, I don't want to hear that word again."
"Oh, well good luck with that 'cause I win a lot, thank you very much."
He looked at her and she was surprised at the seriousness in his eyes. "I didn't mean that one," he said. "You're many things, Donna, but dumb is not, nor will it ever be, one of them. I don't want to hear that from you again, hm?"
"Okay," she said a bit too flippantly because he cocked an eyebrow at her. "Okay," she repeated quietly.
He waited a few more seconds then gave her a brilliant smile. "There we go," he concluded, curling around her once more and nuzzling his face against her shoulder. "Now, what do you say to some therapeutic cuddling?"
"I'd say I could've guessed you were a cuddler," she responded even as she was putting her arms around him.
"We still need a lot more practice, I hope you know. A lot."
"Bring it, spaceman. I'm game if you are." And she kissed the top of his head as he laughed.
A/N: There's now a one-shot fic titled "Balancing Act: Interlude" that immediately follows this chapter and serves as a deleted scene between Chapters 4 and 5. ;)
Or go directly to Chapter 5 ;)
Author: ageless_aislynn
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Ten/Donna
Summary: Donna has managed to save both herself and her memories but in doing so, has she bitten off more than she...and the Doctor...can chew? An alternate end to "Journey's End."
Rating: NC-17
Length: 2,940
Spoilers: Up to 4x13 "Journey's End"
Disclaimer: Not mine or you can bet there would've been happy endings for everybody!
Beta: The fantabulous mistojen ♥! *mwah!* ♥! Special Britpick thanks also to teh loverly popcornleader ♥!
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
"This is ridiculous," Donna grumbled.
"It's called visualization," the Doctor said enthusiastically.
"No, it's called me standing here on one foot like a flippin' idiot, that's what it's called!" She glared at him as her right sole wavered above the grating. Covertly, she shifted so that her left hip could rest against the TARDIS console.
"Balance the body, balance the mind," he said, hopping easily on one Converse, then the other. "Once you're balanced, I'll set the moment in your mind so you can achieve it again."
"Well, how long is this going to take?"
"As long as it takes," he said firmly, experimenting with how high he could raise his foot to the front before he had to windmill his arms to keep from falling over. "And don't think I don't see you leaning there, you cheater."
"Oi! Come over here and say that again, why don't you?" She raised both fists but doubted she was very threatening, standing around like a bloody flamingo as she was. "Heh, this reminds me of that nice purple bloke--"
He snorted, hopping in a circle. "He was hardly nice!"
"He was perfectly nice until you started with the insults. Then I thought he was going to knock you into next week without letting you use the TARDIS!"
"He was looking down your blouse!"
"You told me to distract him, you idiot. That's what he was supposed to be doing!"
"He wasn't just looking, he was about to go... spelunking!" he said, gesturing indignantly. "And I haven't even..." He trailed off and became very interested in balancing on his other foot.
The corners of her lips twitched. "So," she purred. "You might be interested in spelunking a gal who's got one foot in the air, then?"
He met her gaze at that and his expression heated. "Oh yes," he said, approaching with a rather predatory stride. "I'd be very interested in spelunking a girl who has one foot-- or better yet, two -- in the air."
She inhaled sharply as he brushed her hair back over her shoulder, then let his fingers trail down along the column of her neck to her collarbone, his touch feather-light. He drew circles along her skin and every cell in her body felt like it was coming to attention at that sole point of contact, as if something inside of her was stretching, rising...
Balancing.
"There," he said, touching her face. "I've set the memory. Whenever you need to achieve mental balance, just think of this moment. Unfortunately, of course, that means balance will equate with me saying I'd like to spelunk you with your feet in the air."
"Oh, I'd hardly have it any other way," she said, rolling her eyes. "Can I put my foot down now?"
"Since when have you needed to ask before you put your foot down?" he teased and danced away before she could swat his arm. "Yes, you can. Come on, this is just the first part. Let's get comfortable to practice leverage."
He fished in his jacket for his screwdriver and fused the zipper of his brown pinstriped trousers shut, then winked at her. She couldn't help but grin. Any "practice" that required him to take the precaution of fusing his zip shut first had to be more fun than standing around on one foot.
A short time later, she revised that opinion. The setting had seemed promising enough: one of the spare bedrooms with a huge bed easily four times the width and length of any she'd ever seen before. They'd kicked off their shoes and climbed aboard...
...only to sit crosslegged with their eyes closed and their hands chastely on each other's faces while she tried to figure out how to mentally "shove" him. It just wasn't quite the entertainment she'd hoped for.
"You know," she said, cracking an eye open, "somebody promised me spelunking."
He cracked an eye as well. "First things first. No. No, no. You can't try to take my mind on toe-to-toe like that -- not that mind's have toes, though wouldn't that be something if they did? What sort of shoes would minds wear--?"
"Doctor!" She closed her eyes again and gave a mental push at the hazy presence hovering at the edge of her awareness. Her "hands" went through him like smoke, unable to find purchase.
"Donna..."
"I know. I'm doing it wrong. I don't need you to tell me that!" She dropped her hands and leaned back, frustrated. "I'm just a... a... A right dumb blonde!"
Shock rippled through her mind and she felt his mental presence roll back like the ocean receding from the shoreline.
"You're really a blonde?" he asked in a hushed tone. Then he grinned like a kid on Christmas morning. "Donna! You did it!"
"I did wha-AH?!?" The last part of her word was lost as he vaulted at her like an enthusiastic Golden Retriever, knocking her onto her back. Then he wrapped his arms around her and rolled them over a few times, finally ending up with her on top of him in a tangle of limbs.
"You took me off-guard," he said beaming up at her. "Words are your weapon, of course! Well, words and a mean right-cross, but words more than anything!"
She struggled to follow his logic. "So all I have to do is tell you I'm a dumb blonde when the bond opens and that's it?"
"Yes! Well, it won't work for you to tell me the same thing, I'll be expecting it. You'll have to tell me something new."
"Like--"
"Tssss! Don't waste it, save it for when it counts! But, and here's the tricky part, you have to balance and use that leverage at the exact moment when the bond opens fully."
"Yeah," she agreed, realizing that she'd gotten stuck with his legs on either side of hers and that just wasn't quite working for her nethers. Curse this bond for going in both directions! Now I'm as prone to be randy as he is!
She took a moment to reverse positions so that she was straddling him and... Ah, yes, that was quite better. And he was much more interesting in spelunking than he'd been trying to let on.
He ground against her and they both made appreciative noises. "Here's the thing," he went on breathlessly. "The bond will open fully at the culmination of the mating act -- mating bond, after all -- and so that means you have to mentally balance and then apply your leverage right as we--"
She swore under her breath. "How am I supposed to be able to juggle all of that? I'll be a bit busy at the time, won't I?"
He leered charmingly and rolled them so that he was on top. "Well, it seems to me that we need to practice then, don't we?"
She returned his leer with one of her own. "What did you have in mind?"
"Let me show you," he said, skimming down her body and pushing up her blouse enough to press a friendly kiss to her stomach. Then he paused with his hands at her waistband, looking at her questioningly.
"What? You need an engraved invitation?" she said, feigning a stern tone to cover the flutter of nervousness that went through her. Bit late for that, she thought pragmatically and told him, "We're rather all-in by this point, aren't we?"
"All-in," he agreed and she lifted her hips enough for him to slide her trousers off and toss them aside. He sat back and shed his jacket, tie and shirt in quick order, then returned to divest her of her pale pink cotton knickers.
"What?" she asked as his lips curved in a small, crooked smile.
"Knew you weren't a blonde," he murmured. "What even made you say that?"
"Just popped in my head. Now, hush," she said and he made himself comfortable, stretching out between her legs. "Just so we're clear," she added and he gave her a slightly apprehensive look. "This isn't aural with an 'au,' right? 'Cause I'd hate to get my hopes up."
He grinned. "I think it's safe to say we've progressed to 'o' by this point. Now, right before you, you know, get to the good part, mentally balance then tell me you're a blonde. That'll stand-in for whatever you'll really tell me when the bond expands, hm?"
"This still seems rather dodgy..." She trailed off as he set to work. Ahhhh, I knew that oral fixation of his would come in handy one day, she thought, luxuriating under his ministrations.
A short while later, she thought, Left. To the left, left! and to her surprise, he swirled his tongue exactly where she'd silently urged.
"Are you reading my mind?" she demanded.
Er... A little? his voice said in her head.
"Since when?" she asked sharply and he pulled back.
"My people are telepaths, Donna," he said patiently. "You and I have a bond, we're in quite intimate contact, and you're mentally shouting left, left, left! at me. I rather can't miss it. I can just pretend I don't hear your suggestions if that would make you more--"
"No, not necessary," she said quickly and gave his head a pat. "Carry on, then."
"Why, thank you," he said with a quirk of an eyebrow and resumed his efforts.
As his talented tongue and fingers were sending her rocketing towards the proverbial stratosphere a few minutes later, his mental voice interrupted: You're not balancing. When she didn't answer, he repeated, You have to balance.
She shook off his mental prodding like swatting a fly.
DONNA.
"I bloody well heard you the first two times," she snapped. "It's a little tough to worry about balancing and being blonde and all that when you're getting me all worked up here!"
Well, you have to do it, so concentrate. Honestly, it's not that hard!
She let the obvious pun pass without comment. "You can't possibly expect me to believe that you could do this either. I'd wager you couldn't count to 100 if I gave you the proper what-for!"
He raised up. "Well, you'd lose that wager," he said smugly. "I can do complicated quantum physics equations, make excellent banana pancakes, and solve a geo-political crisis, all at one time without breaking a sweat. I think mentally balancing and saying one phrase would be well within my... Where are you going?"
She sat up, pulling away from him. "Hand me my knickers."
He looked supremely stricken. "But...but...you're not done. I'm not done. Donna, we're not done!"
She crawled over and retrieved her knickers, scrambling into them while ignoring his spluttering apologies and explanations. Then she grabbed his jacket and pulled his sonic screwdriver out. "Undo your zip," she said. "We're changing places."
"Really? I mean, you don't have to, of course," he said even as he took the screwdriver from her and reversed the fusing process. Then he pitched the screwdriver aside again and pulled down his zip.
Something blue appeared. Her eyes went wide but before she could ask, he extracted and discarded what looked like a tumble dryer sheet and said nonchalantly, "Super-absorbent paper towel."
He crawled off the bed, standing so to more easily shed his trousers. "Well?" he asked, tossing the last of his clothes aside and standing naked before her.
"So, in the boxers or briefs debate, you'd be a 'neither,' eh?" she said, rather astonished to discover that the buttoned-up Time Lord favored going commando.
"Expediency," he said, clicking his tongue. "Now, are things...acceptable?"
She realized what he was asking. "Oi, fishing for compliments, are we?" she said with a snort. "I didn't hear you lavishing sweet-talk on my lady-bits while you were down there--oof!"
He leapt onto the bed next to her and sprawled across her legs. "Oh, Donna's Lady-bits," he intoned formally to the apex of her thighs. "My apologies for failing to acknowledge your grace and beauty before this moment. Truly, you are a supreme example of lady-bits and I'm quite pleased to make your acquaintance. In fact, I hope to make your acquaintance many more times and at much greater length."
And he placed a solemn kiss on the pink cotton while she dissolved into laughter.
"You are completely bonkers!" she crowed, and he grinned like the mad thing he was while she ruffled his hair into a wild mess. Then she gave him a mock-stern growl. "Over on your back, Martian boy, and let me hear you count to 100. In English. Out-loud."
"Not a problem," he said with a superior sniff.
She had to give him credit: he kept his voice remarkably steady under the circumstances up until 20. By 30, he was noticeably breathless and by 40 he sounded like he was trying to climb an increasingly steep hill. As he rolled past 50, she could feel him trembling with effort.
"Fifty-orange?" she stopped and questioned sarcastically.
"Fifty-four," he corrected, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Having a bit of struggle?" she asked in sugary concern, keeping her hands moving on him so not to give him a respite.
"I'm fine, thanks," he said in a higher pitch than normal. "Just peachy, in fact. Finely, finely fine. Fine as peach fuzz. Though peach fuzz isn't always-nnnngggggg..."
"That didn't sound much like a number, Doctor. Want to try again?" And she returned to her task, this time stepping up her game with fancier swirls of her tongue.
He said something in very desperate-sounding Gallifreyan.
Again, not a number, she thought at him, not sure if he would hear. I'm pretty sure the TARDIS would've translated if it would've been a number.
"You're a cruel woman, Donna Noble," he groaned, fisting his hands in the bedspread. But he did manage to resume counting, though there were often long, gasping pauses between numbers.
She let him get to 80 before she sped up the motions of her mouth, tongue and hands. He half-shouted a garble of "Eighty-twofournine!" and the tell-tale wave of heat flooded down her spine, letting her know he was close.
Next time, presuming there was a next time, she'd give him the full ride. But right now she was much more curious to watch, so she drew back and pumped him furiously with her hand. The boiling water sensation poured down through her, almost sending her over first; her throbbing lady-bits had certainly not forgotten that her stubborn pride had preempted her own satisfaction when she made him switch places with her.
No, I want to see, she thought with grim determination, bearing down against the feeling as it corkscrewed through her, pinning it as it tried to snap free. And she was thusly treated to an amazing display as he found his release.
"Holy..." she murmured in true wonderment a few moments later. "You're a bloody firehose, you are! I think you nailed the ceiling."
"'S good or bad?" he asked hoarsely.
She considered. "Hm. Good, I suppose. Yeah, I'd give that a try." While he laughed brokenly, she glanced down. "Oi, I should've taken my blouse off. I'm all splattered! Think the TARDIS will give me a discount on the laundry?"
"Oh, I think something can be arranged--" He cut off as she flopped onto her back next to him, their arms brushing in the process. He rolled to his side, touching her temple then pressing his hand low against her abdomen. She gasped, her muscles reflexively twitching and fluttering.
"You held off your response to my orgasm," he said, stunned. "How? You shouldn't be able to do that, not with the bond still immature and not without training."
"I just..." She struggled to explain what she really didn't understand herself. "I just didn't want it to get in my way so I... held it down somehow and it-- OH!"
She grasped at his shoulder as her back arched away from the mattress. Arousal burst through her like fireworks, so intense it was nearly painful.
"Delayed reaction," he said, sliding his palm down to rub vigorous circles through her knickers. She came so hard she saw stars and flashes of lights as afterimages for several seconds.
Belatedly, she gasped out, "I'm a dumb blonde. And I win." She wasn't properly balanced and she hadn't gotten the phrase out in time but she was claiming a victory anyway and just let him try to argue her out of it.
His head drooped to her shoulder and he chuckled. "All right, you win. But after this, I don't want to hear that word again."
"Oh, well good luck with that 'cause I win a lot, thank you very much."
He looked at her and she was surprised at the seriousness in his eyes. "I didn't mean that one," he said. "You're many things, Donna, but dumb is not, nor will it ever be, one of them. I don't want to hear that from you again, hm?"
"Okay," she said a bit too flippantly because he cocked an eyebrow at her. "Okay," she repeated quietly.
He waited a few more seconds then gave her a brilliant smile. "There we go," he concluded, curling around her once more and nuzzling his face against her shoulder. "Now, what do you say to some therapeutic cuddling?"
"I'd say I could've guessed you were a cuddler," she responded even as she was putting her arms around him.
"We still need a lot more practice, I hope you know. A lot."
"Bring it, spaceman. I'm game if you are." And she kissed the top of his head as he laughed.
A/N: There's now a one-shot fic titled "Balancing Act: Interlude" that immediately follows this chapter and serves as a deleted scene between Chapters 4 and 5. ;)
Or go directly to Chapter 5 ;)