An Officer and the Noble Woman, Part 38
An Officer and the Noble Woman, Part 38
Author: dtstrainers
Paring: Donna Noble/Peter Carlisle
Co-Captain of this Ship: WhosInTheAttic, but all errors are mine alone.
First Mate: The lovely serenityslady has officially joined the crew. Thanks for the support and suggestions!
Rating: PG for Plot Galore and A for Angst.Word Count: 6,499 (Yes, Jamie, it is a big one.)
Disclaimer: Donna and Peter- not mine, but in my mind.
Part 1 | Part 5 | Part 10 | Part 15 | Part 20.1 | Part 25 | Part 30 | Part 35.1
Thursday, June 28, 2012 7:35 PM
Peter Carlisle bit his lip - hard - in a futile attempt to stifle his laughter. Donna glared at him again as she angrily banged about in his kitchen, tossing food into the pantry with abandon. When she whirled back to face him with a banana in hand, his amusement exploded forth as a guffaw he could no longer contain.
“I have absolutely no earthly idea why you find this situation to be so amusin', Detective Inspector Carlisle,” Donna fumed as Peter leaned against the cabinet, tears of mirth streaming down his face. “That was one of the most shamin’ experiences of…my…life!” she hissed, tossing the banana into a bowl on the counter with such force it would only be good for baking. She rounded on him again, waving an indignant finger in his face, “This doesn’t bother you at all, does it?”
“Weellll,” he hiccuped, trying to reign in his laughter, scratching at the back of his neck and looking at her over the top of his glasses, “while I admit that I regret disturbin' my neighbors slumber, in no way am I remorseful about even one of the amorous encounters anyone might have overheard…”
“ ‘Might?’ “ Donna cried. “ ‘MIGHT?’ Peter, she knew our names, ferchristssake!“ She dug into one bag and pulled out a small white paper sack. She hesitated for a moment, then turned back to face him. “God, what else might she have overheard? And what if she wasn’t the only one? Oh, Peter, I don’t know if I can even get in the lift here anymore,” she said, looking down at the bag she'd begun to worry in her hands. “It’s all right for you- she doesn’t know what you look like, but me?” she said, gesturing absently at her hair.
“Yes, m’ love, ye are unforgettable,” he replied, tucking his glasses into his shirt pocket and stepping closer to lift her hair back away from her face. "No like anyone would want to." He hesitated slightly, realizing what he's inadvertently said, but Donna didn't seem to notice. “I’m sorry that ye're embarrassed by this turn of events, though ye’ve no cause to be.” Donna lowered her head and set the small bag she still held down on the counter beside them without looking up at him. "I could go upstairs and apologize, if that would make ye feel better?” he offered and he was gratified to see Donna smile slightly and shake her head.
“No, Copper, don’t,” Donna replied with just a hint of her usual humor. “She's a pert little blonde. If she got one look at you after what she’s heard, I’ve no doubt I’d be defendin' what’s mine with a stick. A big, heavy one. Repeatedly,” she smirked, one eyebrow raised. “Just leave well enough alone. We’ll just have to be careful in future, is all,” she said, finishing on a sigh.
“I could invest in soundproofing,” he offered, grinning insanely as she rolled her eyes in amazement. He leaned into her and nipped at the shell of her ear before whispering, “Or maybe a silk blindfold and gag to complement the handcuffs?”
"Policeman!" she cried, feigning horror, her eyes wide, and she just barely checked herself as she started to swat his injured arm. He favored her with a playful leer and kissed her gently, feeling a tremor run through her at his touch. Donna leaned against him and sighed as Peter began to tease her lips open with sweet, slow strokes of his tongue. He pulled her closer, forgetting all about reports and neighbors and everything but the woman in his arms, so he was surprised when Donna ducked her head away from him. He opened his eyes and looked down at her as she pushed him away gently. She fished his glasses out of his pocket before setting them carefully back on his face.
"Go back and finish your work," Donna stated forcefully, her resolve wavering a bit as his face fell. She smoothed his t-shirt across his chest and added, "Come see me when you're done, Policeman. We can pick up then where we left off.”
Peter saw the determination in her eyes and realized she wasn't quite ready to be done with being upset. He tried one last-ditch effort to persuade her to change her mind, hunching his shoulders and pouting slightly, but Donna merely crossed her arms and glared at him. Peter finally sighed in defeat and with one quick, chaste peck on her cheek, he began to trudge back to his unfinished report.
With a guilty twinge, she watched him go before sighing in exasperation. Donna swept the paper sack from the counter and thrust it into his hands. "Here," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. He peered inside and Donna's lips twitched once in reluctant delight when he slipped a lolly out of the bag and beamed sunnily at her. He gave her another impulsive kiss, missing his mark and landing on her nose and Donna shooed him out of the room, playfully swatting his bum when he tried to loiter.
"There's not a pen or pencil in the place you haven't gnawed on," she tossed at him as he finally began to retreat and she returned to her task, "so you might as well have something proper to suck on.”
Peter’s pivoted gracefully in place, his expression settling into a naughty smirk as he let his glasses slide down his nose.
“Miz Noble,” he began, his voice a dangerous rumble from deep in his chest as he took a step back towards her, but he stopped at her warning look. He raised one teasing eyebrow and served up his best bad-boy grin with a side order of innuendo as he slowly unwrapped the confection. He made a show of popping the treat into his mouth with a sultry "Thank ye," as he sauntered- yes, sauntered, she thought, rolling her eyes with amusement- back to his task. She compressed her lips tightly to hold in a giggle as he added an exaggerated roll to his hips when he finally left the room.
"And don’t finish them all at one go, Policeman. That bag was meant to last you at least a week!” she called over her shoulder but she couldn't keep the smile from her voice. "Practice discipline just this once, will you?”
**********
Friday, June 29, 2012 11:20 AM
"Seriously?" Donna squealed happily, shooting up from her desk without thinking and twirling on the spot. "Really? Today?!?” She turned round to see Sophie regarding her quizzically and Donna pointed at her mobile phone, mouthing exaggeratedly, "My flat!," before returning her attention to the call. Her face lit up as she pumped her fist in triumph, all but dancing in place.
“You finished with the sky light, too? And the extra…? Oh, Phil, you are nothin' short of brilliant!”
Donna darted over, holding the mobile away from her face slightly and Sophie heard the man’s faint chuckle. “The security system is in place and foreman called just now to let me know that he completed the renovations you requested. We should be done this afternoon with construction and I’ll have a clean-up crew in tomorrow morning,” he replied, clearly amused. "You should be able to move back by tomorrow noon. Want to come by and give it a looksy? You can sign off on the job and I can show you how to program the security system."
Donna spun to face Sophie and gave her a hopeful look. The office manager pantomimed considering Donna's unvoiced request for a heartbeat before she smiled and nodded her assent.
"Yeah, I can do that,” Donna replied, grinning her thanks to Sophie. "What time is good for you?"
"How about ... one-ish?" Phil answered. "I can finish up the paperwork and meet you there.”
"Oh, Phil, you are brilliant, just amazing, you are! See you then," she enthused before she rang off.
"Sophie, I owe you," Donna crowed with delight, swooping down for a hug before rushing back to her desk to finish up for the day. “Anythin' you want, any time you want, you just say the word!”
“That was quick, considering all you said you were having done to your flat. So this means you’re going to be staying on your own again?” Sophie ventured, watching closely for Donna’s reaction. “No more being dropped off in the mornings?”
“If by that you mean no more opportunities for Grace in Customer Relations to ogle my Policeman at every opportunity, then yeah, at least for a little while,” Donna replied, but she was smiling. “But then again, if everythin’ goes accordin’ to plan?" She trailed off with a mysterious lift of her brows and returned her attention to clearing off her desk. "Grace might get to look some more, at least until Iona decides to come back and it's time for me to move on.”
"Iona called earlier this week," Sophie said gently. "With her mum around to take care of the little one, she's thinking of cutting her leave a bit short. Maybe coming back as early as the end of next month?" She looked at Donna sympathetically and added, "I hate to think of you leaving, but they could use the money and honestly? I think Iona's going a bit loopy with her mum underfoot all day.”
"Sophie," Donna responded gratefully, "I appreciate you tryin' to spare my feelin's and all, but Iona’s already called to let me know." She straightened her monitor and dropped a pencil in the mug on her desk. It rattled around for a moment before settling and an unconscious smile crept across her lips. She blinked once, twice before forcing herself back to the present. "This all started out as a favor to her anyway. Donna Noble- Super Temp, remember?"
"Yes, but you've become a valuable asset in your own right, and I'd like to think you've become a friend as well," Sophie admitted. "We'll all hate to see you go. If we have a permanent position become available, would you-?”
“No,” Donna said quickly. "No, but thank you. It’s gettin’ to be time I moved on. I’ve been givin' some thought to my situation, and while I love bein’ here, I’m ready for a change,” she confessed. She flicked the pencil in the mug and watched it skitter around before it settled back in place and she continued. "I’m makin’ some decisions about my future, some I think will lead to somethin’ lastin’, somethin’ permanent. It’s gettin’ to be time I made that move.”
**********
Friday, June 29, 2102. 6:15 PM
“Why is it two women meet and the first thing they do is pop off to the loo together?” Ian wondered with a shake of his head, watching Maddie follow Donna ash she threaded her way through the crowd at St. Stephens.
Peter smiled and twirled the ice in his glass. "What, are yer ears burnin’ now, Ian?” he teased. “There’s no Great Female Conspiracy, mate. We got here early and that’s Donna’s third lime and soda.”
“Oh, come off it! The two of them are already chattering away,” Ian retorted, gesturing as they disappeared around a corner. “They’ll come back with each other’s life stories told and everything about the both of us, to boot. It wouldn’t be so bad if after they’d share what they learned after, but no! Ask what they talked about later and all you’ll get is, ‘Oh, you know, just chit-chat!’” he groused.
"They’re just comparin’ notes, is all,” Peter said dismissively. "I’ve told Donna a bit about ye and what ye’ve shared about Maddie. I assume ye’ve done the same?”
“Of course,” Ian replied, frowning.
Peter smiled and set his glass down. “Well, then. That’s it. They’re both seekin’ to independently verify the information freely provided and extend it, if possible.”
“That’s a long-winded way of saying gossiping,” Ian murmured.
"It's actually called the Lost Art of Conversation and much can be gleaned from properly indulgin' in one, occasionally. I’ve always wondered why we donae have more female detectives, truth be told. They’d most likely be brilliant at it," Peter mused to himself. "Oh, and by the way, Donna thinks the world of ye, so no worries there.” He grinned at his partner and leaned on the table before starting back, plucking at the sleeve of his t-shirt and pulling it away from his arm with a slight wince.
“Should’ve left the sling on," Ian said with a smirk. “Nice to see you survived the night. Did she give you the fire and ice treatment?" he teased knowingly.
"Just a bit,” Peter admitted with a shrug. "We danced around each other early in the evenin', but eventually, we both settled down and talked. It could have been much worse,” Peter said with a faint smile, scratching at his ear. “We’re good.”
“I’m glad,” Ian said sincerely. “She’s good for you.”
Peter smiled wryly and shrugged again. ”She’s movin’ back to her place tomorrow,” he murmured flatly, a grimace flashing across his face so quickly Ian would have missed it had he not been looking straight at his friend. Peter glanced away for a moment and ran his tongue across his front teeth, exhaling heavily before forcing himself to smile. "Her architect called to say they'd finished the work on her flat today. She left work early so she could stop in to see on her way ho-” He stopped short uncomfortably, unable to say the word, and looked down into his glass.
“And?” Ian prompted.
“And she’s happy it’s done. I, on the other hand…” Peter shrugged philosophically.
“You don’t want her to go?” Ian persisted.
“No really. No,” Peter admitted reluctantly. “But what am I to do? We’ve only been seein’ each other a few months, if ye think on it. It’s no like I should have expected her to want to stay with me any longer." He forced a cheerful tone and added, "She’s thinkin' about holdin' a party after the Olympics to show off the renovations.”
“And you haven’t told her how you feel about her moving out,” Ian guessed.
“It's no movin' out, no really," Peter replied with a quick shake of his head. "She was just stayin' with me awhile. It’s too soon to start talkin’ about makin’ permanent changes to our livin’ arrangements,” he continued, sidestepping the issue. “I donae want to give her mum any further fuel for the bonfire. She already suspects me of only seein’ Donna for her money. If I were to ask her to move in now, without the benefit of matrimony? Danger and delight grow on one stalk," he said darkly, taking a healthy drink from his glass and pulling a face as he remembered what it contained. He let out a derisive snort. "I'd never be able to face that woman and it wouldnae be safe to turn my back on her, neither.”
Ian stared at him, skepticism written all over his face, but before he could comment, Peter plunged ahead.
“Besides, we were already spendin’ most evenin’s together, even before….” He trailed off, unwilling to bring up the issue of her intruder when the man was still at large.
“But you have thought of it, of making your relationship more ... formal?” Ian prodded, and Peter nodded.
“Ye know that I have, and so does she. I've expressed to her some things I’d like for the future: our future, together. I intend to raise the issue with her again, and soon," Peter assured him. "Just no today. I donae want to take advantage of the current situation. I want her to know what she wants, and to be ready to pursue it with eyes wide open, no just because circumstance threw us together for a fortnight. The two of us; we’re gonna make this last. We’ve got time,” he replied with a tight grin.
"Fools look to tomorrow; wise men use tonight,” Ian said with feeling. “Don’t repeat my mistakes, Peter, not this time. Don’t wait too long.”
Peter looked askance at Ian then, his lips relaxing into a sly half-smile. “I willnae," he said, glancing over his shoulder then waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Speakin’ of time…..” When Ian didn’t respond immediately, Peter persisted. “Maddie? When did the two of ye…?”
Ian studied the label on his nearly-empty bottle for a moment before raising it to his lips and finishing it off at a go. "She finally gave in and we went to lunch on Sunday. We've spoken or seen each other every day since," he replied with a shrug, setting his bottle down before him with a solid thump. He signaled for another round, trying to hide his joy behind a facade of nonchalance, all the while knowing that Peter could read the truth on him like a book. "It's a start.”
"That's good," Peter said, nodding his head while toying with his glass. He resisted the sudden urge to look up, to twist around and search the crowd for Donna. "And yer friend, the one she's been livin' with?”
"It's been a purely practical arrangement, apparently,” Ian admitted with a thoughtful sideways bob of his head. "It’s a huge flat in a converted warehouse. He uses part of it for a photography studio. Seton couldn't afford it otherwise and Maddie wanted to be closer to her work. It's a block from her gallery, over in the East End. It’s a very artsy, up-and-coming sort of trendy neighborhood now, and they’ve smartened the whole area up in advance of the Olympics.” He nodded his thanks as the waitress plopped another bottle before him and set a fresh drink before Peter as well.
Ian considered Peter for a moment before clinking his bottle against Peter's glass. "Lime and tonic?” he asked as an incredulous note coloured his voice. "Since when do you and Donna drink lime and tonic?"
"Since Wednesday," Peter replied, with a vaguely longing look at Ian's bottle. "She loved me for the dangers I had passed, And I loved her that she did pity them," Peter quoted before pulling a face. "As I must abstain, whilst on medication, from the temporary yet tangible bliss that comes along with a good pint, she has insisted that she'll do the same for the duration," he explained.
"Well, then. That's proves it. It’s true love," Ian chuckled, his smile broadening as Maddie reappeared and swept in for a quick kiss.
Peter smiled at the overt display, then frowned. "Where’s Donna?” he asked, twisting in his seat to search the room.
“She’s stopped to chat with a friend for a mo,” Maddie explained, gesturing to where Donna stood at a table, her hand resting on the shoulder of a man sat there. Peter saw her nod in his direction and DS Cave swiveled slightly to see him, inclining his head in greeting. Peter returned the gesture and raised his glass. Ian followed his gaze and turned back to Peter.
"You should have heard Caveman regale the office this morning with the tale of how you took on Tippet,” he confided. “You’ll be in need of a cape and mask to live up to the reputation he's building for you.”
"Is that so?" Peter raised a suspicious eyebrow. "How does he know what happened?”
"He said he could see the two of you by the light at the mouth of the tunnel as he made his approach from the dark," Ian said, then his voice dropped to conspiratorial levels. "He's kept it in line with the report you filed, by the way," he murmured, shrugging in Cave's direction.
Peter’s bottom lip jutted out and he bobbed his head from side to side in consideration, looking between Ian and where DS Cave sat smiling at Donna as she laughed at some jest made by one of his table mates. "I do believe I've divined the identity of Donna's clandestine source of information concerning my health and safety," Peter observed with faint amusement. "Who'da known Caveman had a soft spot for gingers?”
"You're not angry?" Ian asked.
“As it would've no doubt been worse had she come home from work and found out then,” he shrugged thoughtfully, "no.” He lifted his glass, and sucked in an ice cube, rolling it about with his tongue as he considered the scene playing out across the pub. "No harm done, really; no that I want him to make a habit of it," he mused, openly observing their interactions. Donna leaned in and gave DS Cave a quick peck on the check before heading back to Peter. She bestowed upon him a longer, lingering version of the gesture before plopping down in the chair next to him and opposite Madeline.
"So, Maddie,” Donna said with a grin as she commandeered Peter’s half full glass and took a hearty swig. “Tell me more about your work." She giggled at Peter's cry of mock-outrage and handed the glass back without protest before turning her attention back to her new friend.
“I help run a non-profit art collective downtown, the Village Underground? It’s in a renovated warehouse in the East End, and I’m responsible for the visual art installations. We can house a bit of everything, though, from concerts to exhibitions to theatre and other types of performances. You name it, we can do it, “ Maddie declared proudly.
“That sounds exhilarating and exhausting all at the same time,” Donna commented, eyeing the other woman shrewdly.
“You’re not wrong,” Maddie said with a laugh, “but it’s never dull. And you?”
“I spend my days toilin' away with a temp agency. I’m currently in the middle of a long-term assignment with C&G, just around the corner, down from the Met." She thumbed over her shoulder and noticed that Ian and Peter had taken their cues from their dates and seemed to be busy rehashing the details of some old case.
“How’d you get started with that?” Maddie asked politely, drawing Donna's attention back. "It must be difficult, never knowing how long a job will last or what you'll be doing, day to day.”
“Weelll,” Donna drawled, shrugging her shoulders, “it’s the temporary part that I found appealin’, actually. I had a bit of an accident, life changin’, really, and afterwards, I truly didn’t know what I wanted.”
“At first, I was miserable," she confessed, warming to the other woman's openness. "I was busy just tryin’ to figure out what I was missin’ and what I could do about it. But lately, I think I’m ready for a change. I’m done with bein’ temporary,” she added with quiet determination. “I‘m ready to start making the good things in my life more permanent. I’m not driftin’ any longer,” she said, looking over at Peter with a slightly giddy smile, “and I am so done with waitin’.”
“I know the feeling,” Maddie replied with a guilty glance to where Ian had fallen into easy conversation with Peter. “Personally and professionally, truth be known.”
“How exactly?” Donna asked at the slightly resigned tone she detected in the other woman’s response.
"I've got plans, big things I want for the arts foundation, for artists’ scholarships and living expenses and after school programs, but I've been stalled, stuck in a holding pattern, waiting for my chance." She smiled in Ian's direction before continuing. "Personally, things are improving. Not so much professionally," she added with a sigh, drawing patterns in the sweat rings her drink left on the table. "Arts funding is always scarce.”
“Why not apply for a grant? Have you never heard of Noble Endeavors?” Donna suggested lightly, glancing in Peter's direction when he turned her way. She nodded towards Maddie with a questioning look as she tapped on her own chest and Peter replied with a single negatory shake of his head.
“The charitable foundation?" Maddie asked, oblivious to Donna's silent query and Peter's response. "Yeah, we’ve been trying for funding from them for awhile now, but competition is fierce,” she confided. “We missed the deadline year before last, but more recently, we almost made the cut. They told us to tighten up our proposal and reapply next year.” She looked at Donna quizzically. "Why? Do you know someone in there? Did you do some work for them?”
"You could say that," Donna replied with a sphinx-like smile.
"Could you put me in contact with them?" Maddie begged. She leaned across the table, her eyes flashing as she passionately declared, "All I need is a name and a chance to tell them what we propose. I'm going to move forward, whether we have the funds or not, but if they could help…” She shook her head, envisioning all the future could possibly hold. "Oh, Donna, that would be brilliant!”
“How much do you need?” Donna asked, retrieving her mobile left lying on the table when she and Maddie had gone to the loo. “To do what you want to get your after school arts program off the ground? With scholarship and livin' stipend packages for, let’s say… a dozen artists?”
“We last requested £300,000 a year for the next five years,” Maddie answered, pursing her lips. She cocked her head to the side and regarded Donna thoughtfully. "We think we could become self-funding after that, if we ask the artists who benefited to give back to the program with time and artworks we could auction off."
Donna picked up her phone and nodded to Maddie. "You really think that's enough?" she asked while dashing off a quick text. "How many after school centers would that fund?”
"One in the city center the first year, as we find out what works exactly, as proof of concept, and then we can begin to add others once the initial center has garnered positive results. Donna, it would be a chance to get the community to help itself, to fund what it values, if we can just get it off the ground," Maddie declared passionately, gesturing around. "I know if I can just get an interview, this can work. I can make it work. I just need a chance to pitch it to the right people.”
“You just did,” Donna said tucking her mobile into a pocket, her smile one the Cheshire cat would surely envy.
“Oi! Pot! You comin' or do we forfeit? It’s our turn at the board!” a tall man at the back of the pub bellowed, gesturing at the dartboard. Donna waved in reply.
“Keep your knickers on, Kettle! Be there in a tick,” Donna hollered back. She gestured towards the corner where Alec stood impatiently waiting. “Coming?” Donna asked Maddie as she moved across the pub. Maddie gaped at Donna in confusion, then nodded as she made to follow.
“Wait... What…?” Maddie stammered, pointing at Donna’s retreating figure and looking helplessly between Peter and Ian. “What did she mean?”
“Ian, I fear when our companions met, we both failed to make a proper introduction, did we no?” Peter mused with a lazy smile. He scratched his neck and with a lift of his chin and his brows, he ceded the task to his partner.
“Madeline Pryor,” Ian announced formally, rising and taking her hand with a slight bow, “you've just had the pleasure of meeting Ms. Donna Noble.”
Maddie looked from one amused face to the other before the implication of Ian’s words came clear. “Donna….Noble,” she breathed, stumbling back, one arm grasping blindly for the arm of her chair behind her as she sat down heavily. “Donna ... Noble?” she asked, looking up at Peter with a strange mix of emotions flitting across her face.
"The one and only," Peter replied nodding in Donna's direction. "And, unless I'm much mistaken, ye've just successfully concluded yer private interview with the founder of Noble Endeavors.”
**********
Friday, June 29, 2012 9:45 PM
"Was it a little too theatrical, do you think, the way I told Maddie about the grant?" Donna wondered, lifting her head from the arm of the sofa to look at Peter sat at the opposite end, her feet in his lap. Her breath hitched as his knuckles dug into that spot just before the arch of her foot and she hissed in pleasure as he slowly inched his way back towards her heel. "I mean, I figured with her bein' in the arts and all, she could stand a bit of drama," she managed to say without groaning.
Peter smiled knowingly and switched to her other foot. "It was a good cause and a grand gesture, beloved," he murmured, concentrating on her reaction as she flexed her hips in unconscious pleasure. "It was worthy of yer passions.”
“Speaking of grand gestures," she moaned, throwing her head back and he promptly obliged by repeating the movement of his fingers across the arch of her foot. "Oh, please, again," she hissed, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. She twisted involuntarily and her breath came in short, halting breaths. "Oh, yeah, that's grand, alright.”
"Would ye classify yer response to this stimulus as passionate?" he queried, lifting her foot to gently nibble on her ankle.
"To you?" she laughed, sitting up halfway and preparing to swat him on the shoulder before she stopped short, remembering his injury. Her smile grew pensive before she looked up into his dark eyes and grinned. "Always, Peter. Always.” She regarded him thoughtfully, her expression full of wonder and somehow, almost sad. "You know, sometimes I look at you and I just can't believe I found you.” She gently laid her palm against his cheek as a single tear trembled at the corner of her eye. "I'm never this lucky.”
He slid off the couch to kneel beside her, wiping away the errant tear with his thumb as he caressed her cheek. "There's a Divinity that shapes our ends,” Peter breathed, his voice low and rich as velvet. He saw mirth dancing in her eyes and paused, waiting for her riposte.
"That's certainly true of yours," Donna quipped, reaching down and patting his bum fondly. Peter’s eyes darkened at her words and he shifted his weight, wrapping his arms around her as he began to pull her to the floor with him. Donna resisted immediately.
"You're gonna do yourself an injury, Copper!” she cried, scrabbling in a futile attempt to stay in place.
“Aye,” he replied, arching a brow at her half-hearted effort to stop him. “If you insist on fightin' me.” He succeeded in pulling her legs to the floor and swiftly interposed himself between them on his knees. He leaned over her and kissed the sliver of skin exposed when her shirt rode up, pausing to dart his tongue into her navel.
"Stop it,” Donna protested weakly, reaching down with the intent of pushing him away. He looked up at her, his eyes slowly traveling up her body and instead, she found her hands clutching at his thick hair instead. "We can’t,” she stated, but her voice betrayed the war between concern and carnal desire raging within. "Do you intend to stay on the unfit for duty roster for-?”
"My intention," he murmured into her skin, his hot breath dancing across her hip and fanning the flames of desire threatening to consume her, “…is to divest you of all unnecessary garments and make mad, passionate love to you, here, on the floor.” He reached up and impatiently swept the couch pillows to the floor, wrenching Donna to the side so that only her upper body still rested on the remaining cushions. He pressed himself up against her to support her even as he thumbed open the button on her jeans.
“Peter Carlisle, you are the most pig-headed,-“ she declared passionately as he began to tug her jeans down her body.
"Persistent," he interrupted, tapping her bare hip with one long finger and Donna automatically lifted herself up off the couch in response to his unvoiced request.
"- stubborn, -" she continued, unappeased, as his hands ghosted over her bum as he eased the denim from beneath her.
"Singleminded," he countered with a devilish grin. He succeeded in pulling her jeans to her knees and began working them down to the floor.
"- infuriating -" she shrieked when he nipped on her hip, making her jerk her leg up and Peter laughed in triumph as her foot came free.
"Beguiling," he purred in turn, shifting his attention to her other leg.
"- conceited, -“ Donna huffed even as her hands moved automatically towards his hair but at the last possible second, she jerked them back and tried to push him away.
“Confident,” he retorted, tugging her knickers down and bestowing a wet, open-mouthed kiss on her exposed skin.
“- arse -" she gasped in surprise. She felt a flood of moisture between her legs in response to his proximity and her cheeks flamed.
"Arse," he repeated, considering before conceding her point with a thoughtful nod.
“- I've ever known!” she concluded, shooting for her customary roar but going wide of the mark. She was dismayed to hear a quaver in her voice, one she was quickly learning to associate with her own wavering convictions whenever Peter decided to turn on the charm. She wanted to be angry, right and properly steaming, but somehow, looking up into his eyes, the passion she felt was decidedly more erotic in nature. And then he spoke again.
“Known in the biblical sense?” he teased, grasping her hips and lightly tracing the insides of her thighs with his thumbs.
“Arse!” she almost screamed, gasping aloud and shoving her fist into her mouth in dismay. Oh, Lord, she thought, I’ll never be able to visit now without first havin’ to sneak up the fire escape...
"We've already established that fact,’ Peter said, his smile as dark as his eyes. He moved back away from the couch and took Donna with him, cradling her as she landed in the pile of cushions and pillows from the couch. He moved back between her legs, unbuttoning his own jeans and struggling to push them down past his knees.
Donna bit back ruthlessly on a snarky comment- serves him right, she mused internally, wearing those jeans snug as he likes. She’d caught more than one female, and maybe a few male patrons of St. Stephens checking out the view when they’d arrived, but she couldn’t rightly blame them. Besides, she was the only one enjoying the sight before her now as he finally managed to free himself from his pants as well. She shrugged then sat up to help him ease his shirt off over his head before he sank down over her.
"What were those care instructions again, Peter? No alcohol-“ Donna murmured breathlessly as he kissed his way down her throat, his tongue darting out to dance over her collarbone. She moaned and the sound of her passion arrowed straight to his groin as her fingers twisted in his thick chestnut hair.
"I didnae have so much as a sip tonight!” he protested, lips fluttering against her skin even as his nimble fingers were working the buttons of her blouse free.
"Which is why, I think, we left so early-“ she gasped breathlessly, writhing beneath him and digging her fingers into that magnificent bum to urge him closer.
"We coulda stayed longer if ye’d wanted,” he countered. “Ye only had to say.” He pulled back slightly in delighted surprise when he discovered she was wearing a lovely deep blue bra she must have recently purchased. He eased a finger beneath the front closure and popped it free before peeling the lace back and freeing her breasts, licking his lips at the sight that greeted him.
"I’m not…,” she gasped as his fingers found a particularly sensitive spot in their travels down her body. “I’m not complainin’, thankyouverymuch. I was just makin’ an observation.”
“Hmmmm, gatherin’ information, drawin’ conclusions….” he drawled, lowering himself back down against her. I’ve said it before, Ms. Noble. Ye would make a fine detective, if ever ye decide to pursue a change of careers.”
She remembered her original purpose finally and tried to push him back so she could focus on his face. "Stop trin’ to distract me!” she insisted, but he simply chuckled. "Oh, Peter, I’m pretty sure this counts as strenuous activity!” she cried out softly in dismay.
"It’s been almost three days…” he cajoled gently, licking a warm path up from between her breasts to her chin. He stopped to nip at the soft skin there before moving up to capture her lips in a passionate kiss. Donna moaned, then stiffened in his embrace.
"Peter, that woman, Marjorie!” she hissed. "She’ll hear us!”
"We're no in th' bedroom, Beloved,” he reminded her, his words slow and warm, his accent thick as molasses.
"Oh, so now she isn't safe from us in any room of her flat, Peter," she gasped, trying and failing to mute her response to his attentions.
"Then we’ll just have to be very, very quiet,” he whispered, holding himself above her, braced on both elbows as he set about driving her mad.
Donna wanted to scream, to beg, but given recent revelations, she knew she shouldn’t. Even if she did, she knew from hard experience it wouldn't help her at all and would, in fact, prolong this and she honestly didn't know how much longer she could hold out. Slow, languid thrusts between but not into her folds forced another shuddering moan from her as Peter slowly ground his hips into her, cock gliding through the evidence of her arousal and across her aching clit.
She wanted nothing more than to shift her hips to meet his thrusts, to change the angle so that the next time his throbbing cock would slide home, fill her aching need and she could turn the tables on him. But every time she tried to wrap her legs around his slim torso or clutch him to her, he would still between her legs and use his weight and leverage to pin her in place. He would hold her there, trapped in her desire and lavish his attentions on her breasts and neck until she wanted to scream.
"This is sexual torture," she managed to gasp as he ground his hips against her sex and ghosted his lips around her nipple.
“A chuisle,” he breathed, trailing kisses up her neck to her ear, sucking on the lobe before releasing it with an audible ‘pop’. Peter paused there for a moment before growling, "Ye can take that up with the UN in the mornin’."
**********
Note: A chuisle ( pronounced a khwish-la) is a Scots/Irish Gaelic term of endearment, meaning “My pulse”, from the longer phrase : A chuisle mo chroí, (a khwish-la khwish-la muh khree) which means “pulse of my heart”. Gotta love Google.
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