[Muses Gone Wild] Response
95. sapid: having flavor, especially a strong pleasant flavor. (words)
She hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t expected this at all.
He had stuck his hand over her mouth to silence her. If you asked Sarah Jane Smith, the Talynians were quite backwards. Treating their women like second class citizens despite being in the fifty-first century of societal existence was absolutely not appropriate. Someone had to speak for those who couldn’t. And when she and the Doctor had been invited to meet the Talynian Emperor, Finyargo the Third, no force in the universe, not even the Doctor himself, could stop Sarah from speaking her mind.
So he had stuck his hand over her mouth to silence her. And, in order to get him to remove it without making herself out to be too much of a fool in front of the royal idiot himself, she had stuck her tongue out to tickle his palm.
But she hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t expected his skin to have such a sapid quality, such a… Sarah Jane actually found herself at a loss of words in trying to describe the taste. It was like nothing she had ever tasted before. It was almost as if no other taste could compare.
She debated questioning him later. They were alone on the TARDIS, their visit to Talyn II having gone completely awry after Sarah had decently riled up the First Consort to the Emperor and her sister-wives. The women’s liberation movement had been set into full swing and all Sarah Jane received for her efforts were scolding after scolding from the Doctor.
Quickly, Sarah grew weary with it. The Doctor’s arrogant Timelordian rambles weren’t anything new to her, especially in this incarnation. But she had other thoughts on her mind at the moment. Surprisingly, they had nothing to do with the uprising she had inadvertently caused. No. These thoughts were all about the Doctor and the wonderful flavour his skin possessed.
It made her wonder if he tasted like that everywhere. Was it just his palm? Had he perhaps slipped his hand into something that created such a taste? Did his mouth taste sweeter? And what about…
He had noticed. The atmosphere in the TARDIS console room had suddenly turned overbearingly quiet. In fact, if Sarah concentrated hard enough, she could have sworn there was a hint of jealousy floating about. Jealousy? Over what? That inquiry was dismissed when she realized that he was staring again. Staring and contemplating and if Sarah didn’t know for a fact that the Doctor didn’t read minds, she would almost swear that he was doing thus right now.
In the span of a heartbeat, the silence and the thirst for answers became too much. She took three broad steps across the room, placed a hand one of his shoulders and used the other to pull his head down into a kiss. Sarah flicked her tongue out at his lips, seeking entrance, wanting to know if the taste was the same. At first the Doctor was stiff. Then, there was a miraculous parting of his lips and she discovered that the inside of his mouth was just as sapid as his palm.
The stiffness returned and she backed away quickly. Confusion and curiosity (and jealousy) floated about the room. He fiddled with his scarf, picking at the end fringes as if unraveling them. She shrugged, tried to grin, but Sarah Jane was certain she looked absolutely awkward as she tried to explain.
“You tasted… well, oh, you remember that lick? In the throne room? You tasted… what was that?”
He answered with something mumbled. The Doctor moved a hand to his head, scratching at his hair. She picked up words like biology and pheromones and sensitivities and erogenous and Gallifreyan and time and mating. In the end, Sarah concluded that his… his taste had something to do with a vestigial monthly reproductive cycle, rather like her period (as she blurted aloud, much to both of their further embarrassment).
It was a scent she couldn’t smell, yet it was a taste she could most certainly taste.
“I wanted to know,” Sarah continued after more silence passed. Apparently (some corner of her brain noted), talking about Gallifreyan mating rituals was an effective way to get the Doctor away from lectures. “Well, I wanted to know if you… oh, if you tasted like that in other areas.”
The Doctor sputtered and Sara h blushed. This was positively more embarrassing than that time on Phototron. At least she had been pissed and couldn’t remember most of that.
“Just… oh, just forget it, Doctor.”
He sputtered again and this time Sarah didn’t wait for a proper response. She turned and began to walk (then run) down the hall. This situation was becoming far too messy. She couldn’t take it anymore. Talking out of line was one thing. Discussing sex with the Doctor? That was something else entirely.
Next time, she reminded herself, she had to keep her tongue in cheek.
Quite literally so.
She hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t expected this at all.
He had stuck his hand over her mouth to silence her. If you asked Sarah Jane Smith, the Talynians were quite backwards. Treating their women like second class citizens despite being in the fifty-first century of societal existence was absolutely not appropriate. Someone had to speak for those who couldn’t. And when she and the Doctor had been invited to meet the Talynian Emperor, Finyargo the Third, no force in the universe, not even the Doctor himself, could stop Sarah from speaking her mind.
So he had stuck his hand over her mouth to silence her. And, in order to get him to remove it without making herself out to be too much of a fool in front of the royal idiot himself, she had stuck her tongue out to tickle his palm.
But she hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t expected his skin to have such a sapid quality, such a… Sarah Jane actually found herself at a loss of words in trying to describe the taste. It was like nothing she had ever tasted before. It was almost as if no other taste could compare.
She debated questioning him later. They were alone on the TARDIS, their visit to Talyn II having gone completely awry after Sarah had decently riled up the First Consort to the Emperor and her sister-wives. The women’s liberation movement had been set into full swing and all Sarah Jane received for her efforts were scolding after scolding from the Doctor.
Quickly, Sarah grew weary with it. The Doctor’s arrogant Timelordian rambles weren’t anything new to her, especially in this incarnation. But she had other thoughts on her mind at the moment. Surprisingly, they had nothing to do with the uprising she had inadvertently caused. No. These thoughts were all about the Doctor and the wonderful flavour his skin possessed.
It made her wonder if he tasted like that everywhere. Was it just his palm? Had he perhaps slipped his hand into something that created such a taste? Did his mouth taste sweeter? And what about…
He had noticed. The atmosphere in the TARDIS console room had suddenly turned overbearingly quiet. In fact, if Sarah concentrated hard enough, she could have sworn there was a hint of jealousy floating about. Jealousy? Over what? That inquiry was dismissed when she realized that he was staring again. Staring and contemplating and if Sarah didn’t know for a fact that the Doctor didn’t read minds, she would almost swear that he was doing thus right now.
In the span of a heartbeat, the silence and the thirst for answers became too much. She took three broad steps across the room, placed a hand one of his shoulders and used the other to pull his head down into a kiss. Sarah flicked her tongue out at his lips, seeking entrance, wanting to know if the taste was the same. At first the Doctor was stiff. Then, there was a miraculous parting of his lips and she discovered that the inside of his mouth was just as sapid as his palm.
The stiffness returned and she backed away quickly. Confusion and curiosity (and jealousy) floated about the room. He fiddled with his scarf, picking at the end fringes as if unraveling them. She shrugged, tried to grin, but Sarah Jane was certain she looked absolutely awkward as she tried to explain.
“You tasted… well, oh, you remember that lick? In the throne room? You tasted… what was that?”
He answered with something mumbled. The Doctor moved a hand to his head, scratching at his hair. She picked up words like biology and pheromones and sensitivities and erogenous and Gallifreyan and time and mating. In the end, Sarah concluded that his… his taste had something to do with a vestigial monthly reproductive cycle, rather like her period (as she blurted aloud, much to both of their further embarrassment).
It was a scent she couldn’t smell, yet it was a taste she could most certainly taste.
“I wanted to know,” Sarah continued after more silence passed. Apparently (some corner of her brain noted), talking about Gallifreyan mating rituals was an effective way to get the Doctor away from lectures. “Well, I wanted to know if you… oh, if you tasted like that in other areas.”
The Doctor sputtered and Sara h blushed. This was positively more embarrassing than that time on Phototron. At least she had been pissed and couldn’t remember most of that.
“Just… oh, just forget it, Doctor.”
He sputtered again and this time Sarah didn’t wait for a proper response. She turned and began to walk (then run) down the hall. This situation was becoming far too messy. She couldn’t take it anymore. Talking out of line was one thing. Discussing sex with the Doctor? That was something else entirely.
Next time, she reminded herself, she had to keep her tongue in cheek.
Quite literally so.