In Hot Water
Title: In Hot Water
Author: katherine_b
Rating: R.
Summary: All Donna wanted was a nice, quiet bath. Porn. Pure, unadulterated porn. Oh, and because it’s these two, a bit of snark. Quite a lot, in fact.
Word Count: 4,153 words
Characters: Ten and Donna with help from the TARDIS.
A/N: Written for the doctor_donna Porn Battle. Specific prompt: water sex
Donna settles back against the curved end of the bath, grumbling under her breath, and makes sure that she is respectably covered by the mountains of bubbles floating on top of the water. Then she closes her eyes and waits.
So far the door has been opened twice without warning, and this after she made the point of announcing she was going to have a long, hot bath.
She’s expecting a third interruption any minute now.
Since their visit to the Library, the Doctor has seemed uncomfortable with her being out of his sight for more than a few minutes at a time.
She still hasn’t quite decided how she feels about it. It’s nice to feel loved and wanted, but she does have moments of wondering whether a restraining order is going to be required for her to have a few minutes’ peace.
As expected, the door opens again a moment later, but this time Donna’s ready for him. She actually manages to speak before he can get a word out.
“Your glasses are on your head, the thingummywatsit is on your desk and the kettle won’t work because it’s not plugged in.”
She waits for a moment, her eyes still closed, and when he doesn’t reply, she speaks again.
“Doctor, you can either stand there, trying to look like I just kicked your puppy, hands in your pockets, digging a hole in the floor with your foot and, most importantly, letting all of the bloody cold air in, or you can stop playing games and just get in the bath.”
The Doctor does a respectable imitation of being genuinely surprised by her words, and she looks up in time to see the stance she had described relax in response to his apparent shock.
“Donna, what...?” he splutters, passing a hand over his mouth, presumably so that she won’t see him trying to hide a smile. The sparkle in his eyes he is unable to hide.
“Oh, put a sock in it, Spaceman,” she cuts him off rather brutally. “You’ve burst in here three times now and that’s more than a co-incidence as far as I’m concerned. And you haven’t turned and run on either of the other two occasions either, despite threats of dire vengeance to come. I basically had to order you out. So either you’ve suddenly lost your mind or,” she smirks a little, “you’re the type who likes to watch.”
He arches an eyebrow, nudges the door closed with his shoulder and steps fully into the room. “And what if it isn’t either of those things?” he suggests, the smirk on his face matching hers.
She huffs impatiently. “Just get in the bath,” she orders, closing her eyes again.
There’s a rustle of fabric and Donna is surprised at how overwhelming the urge is for her to open her eyes. It’s just curiosity, she tells herself. She knows he’s got two hearts and the thought has struck her more than once to wonder if he’s got two of anything else.
She definitely isn’t thinking about kitchens in 1920s mansions right at this moment.
A splash and the water moving vigorously around her suggests that the Doctor has taken her up on her offer - not that she was in any doubt about whether he would - and she waits for a few minutes until she’s certain he is settled before venturing to open her eyes again.
The Doctor beams at her from the other end of what is suddenly a much longer tub.
“Nice,” he declares, splashing a bit to add to the bubbles.
“Glad you weren’t disappointed after all that hanging around outside the door trying to think of things to ask me,” she retorts, pleased to see the pink in his cheeks increase and fairly sure it doesn’t have anything to do with the warm water in which they are both sitting.
Then something brushes almost lazily against her side and she manages to get a grip on his toe, looking up in time to see a mischievous expression twinkling in his eyes as she pulls his dripping foot out of the water.
“I could pull you under,” she threatens.
“Respiratory bypass,” he retorts almost willingly. “Go for it.”
“Mmm, maybe something else then.” She arches an eyebrow at him. “Something you can’t just bypass.”
“Oh, yes?” he asks, trying to sound as if she hasn’t peaked his curiosity.
“Like this.” She lightly strokes a nail along the arch of his foot, seeing his toes clench and feeling his leg twitch against her hold. “Ooh, bit of a reaction there.”
“Not fair,” the Doctor tells her through clenched teeth.
“On the contrary, mate, very fair,” she argues. “I’ll teach you to interrupt my peaceful bath.”
“I’m not ticklish,” he declares, and she knows he must be lying because otherwise he wouldn’t have reacted that way.
“Could have fooled me.”
She traces a light line from his heel right the way along his foot to the tip of his toe, rather startled when his eyes close and he hisses between his teeth.
“Hell of a reaction,” she suggests lightly, pinching his toe between her fingers. “This little piggy went to - ”
“No!”
His protest brings her up short and she stares at him for a moment, taking in his arched back and his clenched fists, just visible through the film of bubbles on the water’s surface. (She refuses to notice the fact that he clearly has the same number of other things as human males.) Ideas begin to circulate in her mind and she takes a firmer grip of his ankle.
“This little piggy went to market,” she continues softly, giving his big toe a sharp pinch.
His jaw clenches.
Her fingers move on to his second toe, giving it a hard tweak.
“This little piggy stayed home.”
Breath hisses from between his teeth, but she’s intrigued to notice that he isn’t actually doing anything to stop her.
“This little piggy,” her fingers squeeze his middle toe so that it turns white, “had roast beef.”
A groan escapes his lips and the tension in his back and chest increases, although the water in the bath is deep enough for any other movement of his body to remain concealed unless she chooses to look. Which she doesn’t. Yet.
“And this little piggy,” she wiggles his fourth toe and for the first time he tries to pull it away, but she tightens her grip, “had none,” she finishes, smirking.
“I swear,” his voice is so gravelly as to be unrecognisable, and his eyes are still tightly closed, “if that fifth piggy goes anywhere, at least one of us will live to regret the consequences.”
“Why, Doctor!” She grins at him cheekily. “Anyone would think you were threatening me!”
And she releases his foot, which he pulls away from her with a moan of thankfulness.
“So,” she comments in would-be casual tones, “erogenous zone?”
“Oh, goodness, no,” he retorts, breathing heavily, his voice still sounding strangely rough to her ears, “this is exactly the way I always behave, don’t you know?”
“Could have fooled me.” She rolls her eyes. “Admit it, Spaceman. You started this, after all. You put your foot there.”
He opens his eyes at last and she can see that his pupils have dilated. Then again, the light in the room seems to have dimmed - and surely those lit tea-candles weren’t lined up along the sink when she got in?
“I have to admit,” she tells him, deciding to ignore the TARDIS’ meddling for the moment, “considering how sensitive your feet are, I’m curious to see just what other parts of your body do.”
He slumps back against the end of the bath, a bead or two of moisture slowly trickling down his chest, and arches an eyebrow. “And this from the woman who just wanted us to be mates?”
“Oh, sure, Mr ‘Got to do that more often’,” she shoots back. “Who do you think you’re fooling?”
Peering at her from beneath hooded eyelids, a smile plays around the corners of his mouth so that his dimples fade in and out. “You’re the one who called me pretty.”
She’s still coming up with a response when she feels his foot gently brush against her once more. He starts upright as her fingers close around his ankle, but this time, instead of torturing him, she pulls firmly and feels a rush as water and the Doctor are all but flung into her arms.
He pulls himself up just short of landing face-first in her cleavage and smirks as he looks up at her.
“Well, I have to say,” he’s beginning when she puts a firm hand over his mouth.
“Do you ever shut up?” she demands, even as his lips continue to move against her palm.
Or is that his lips? A swirling motion against her skin suggests that he might also have brought his tongue into play. And she starts when his teeth give a playful nip of the skin at the base of her thumb.
“Close,” she tells him, “but I would have thought you’d know that isn’t a human female’s hot spot.”
He chuckles, reaching up to take her hand and entwine her fingers with his. “You’re assuming I’ve studied this field of research,” he retorts, able to speak clearly once more, his voice back to its normal pitch.
“And here I was almost starting to believe you knew actually everything,” she mocks.
He arches an eyebrow. “Who says I don’t?” he begins, but she doesn’t picks up on the words immediately because he has begun lightly rubbing his thumbs across the inside skin of her wrists, which was an area she didn’t realise was sensitive.
“Erogenous zones in the human female,” he says as if reciting a lesson, before adding in teasing tones, “or at least the ones I can touch that won’t earn me a slap just yet.”
He lifts their linked hands out of the water and lightly rakes his teeth across the skin of her wrist, which sends a not-unpleasant shudder down her spine.
“Wrist,” he says simply, before doing the same on her other hand.
The sound that escapes her throat is embarrassingly close to a purr, and amusement combined with something a bit darker ignites in the Doctor’s eyes.
“Since I’m down here,” he suggests, and she bites back an exclamation of surprise as he lifts her leg out of the water.
Considering she’s well aware of his proclivities, she shouldn’t be surprised when he applies his tongue to the sensitive skin behind her knee, but she’s shocked by the immediate response of her body to the gentle stimulus. What she does know is just how quick her inner thighs are to respond to any sort of touch, so she hopes it will be a while before he makes his way down there or this game could be brought up very short indeed.
Clearly he has had similar thoughts because after thoroughly exploring the skin at the back of her knees, he pulls away.
“Right,” he tells her, “your turn. See what you can find.”
He rests his arms across his knees, waiting to see what she will do, expectation evident in his gaze. Donna’s eyes rake over his thin frame - this long streak of nothing, her long streak of alien nothing! - as she considers. As with the way he teased her, there’s no point in going for the obvious.
Instead, having seen what touch does to his feet - and now she knows why she’s never seen him without shoes! - she decides she might as well begin at the top and work her way towards areas she knows will almost certainly react.
Reaching forward, she slides her fingers into his hair, scratching and prodding at his scalp. He closes his eyes again, but not with the tension she saw before. Instead she can see him revelling in the contact. She suspects it wouldn’t take much to get him purring the way she did. In fact, he even leans forward so that she has more access.
“Not one of them,” he tells her readily, “but you can keep going.”
“Another time,” she promises, before lowering her fingers and raking her nails across the nape of his neck.
He tenses beneath her hand, breathing momentarily halted, but with his face half-sunk into her shoulder, she can’t see his expression.
“So that’s a yes then?” she suggests lightly.
“Mmm,” he gets out in evident agreement, but she has the feeling it’s an effort.
Smiling, she applies a little more pressure and feels him tense further, only to wilt against her as she relaxes her fingers.
When he doesn’t raise his head, she tugs gently at the hair on the nape of his neck to get his attention, eliciting another moan before he finally looks up to meet her gaze, his tongue slipping out to moisten his lips.
“Nice,” he croaks.
“Nice?!” Her pretend indignation at least serves to get his attention. “That’s what you said about the water,” she exclaims scornfully. “Is that really the best you can do - or should I grab your foot again and see what I can wring out of you?”
“No.” His protest comes so quickly that she smirks. “No,” he repeats more slowly, “because it’s my turn again.”
A shiver runs up Donna’s spine at the meaning and promise in his tones, but it’s not in her nature to take any sort of order so easily.
“Hold on,” she complains, “you found two places last time, so shouldn’t I get another go?”
His eyes twinkle at her. “Donna, I might not be human,” he points out patiently, “but I’m a male so I have less erogenous zones than you do.”
“Less,” she shoots back, “or different? Or,” she can’t help demanding, “have you just not been with someone who knows what she’s looking for?”
He chuckles, tightening his hold on her fingers. “I have no doubt, Donna Noble,” he says firmly, “that you always know exactly what you’re looking for.”
“You’d better believe it, mate.”
She winks at him - and then abruptly lifts their linked hands out of the water and slides his little finger into her mouth. It’s more difficult with their fingers entwined, but as she begins to swirl her tongue around the tip of his finger, his hand goes lax and she can release herself from his hold.
Freeing her other hand, even as she continues to tease the fingers on one hand, forgetting the rules of the game they are playing, she strokes her fingers along his collar-bone up to the nape of his neck. His Adam’s Apple bobs beneath her touch and she continues to stroke and smooth that area. She slips her free hand beneath the water and lightly rakes her fingertips over the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, prompting a moan.
“Cheating,” he murmurs hoarsely, and she arches an eyebrow, finishing his index finger with a delicate swirl of her tongue and then letting him go.
“Why?” she demands.
“Three at once,” he protests, and she feels the vibration of his voice through her fingertips, which are still stroking his throat.
She pulls back slightly, removing herself from contact with him so that she is resting against the sloping back of the bath, and spreads her arms wide in a gesture of demonstration. “No slapping,” she promises in teasing tones, “and you can do whatever you like.”
The Doctor’s eyes light up and he wriggles around so that his legs are bent up underneath him and he rises up on his knees. Donna is surprised by the length of his upper body - all that she can see above the waterline and the fine film of bubbles that floats on the water - and then watches as he looms over her, her lips ready when his brush against them.
His hands stroke over her shoulders and then behind her, pulling her against him as he lowers himself to lie almost on top of her. Meanwhile his tongue is playing the same sorts of games with hers that she was doing with his fingers only moments ago. She moans against his mouth as one of his hands moves to her breast, his thumb drawing slow circles over the skin of her nipple, which hardens beneath his touch.
Guessing that all rules are off, Donna reaches with one hand for his hair, tugging on it gently in time with the movement of his mouth against hers. The fingers of her other hand press over various places one his lower back, particularly near his tailbone, which was a pressure point she had found particularly sensitive in the past.
Without warning, breaking their kiss at the same moment, the Doctor suddenly bucks against her so that she can feel his erect penis brushing her thigh and she realises she was right in her suspicion that it’s not just human males who have pressure points around that area.
“Okay,” he says suddenly in her ear, his voice breathless, “you win. No one’s ever tried that one on me before.”
She chuckles and begins a soft massage of the area that draws a groan from him. He keeps his mouth near her ear and the tip of his tongue begins a delicate and teasing exploration of the folds and creases, which she has to admit is another area that she wasn’t aware could be so sensitive.
His fingers, meanwhile, are once more at play, this time one hand on her other nipple and the other stroking and touching the skin of her inner thigh. She bucks gently against him as his hand creeps up towards her private areas and he pulls back at little so that he can look into her face and read her feelings as his long fingers begin an exploration of the sensitive skin folds.
Usually she’s impatient while blokes are fumbling around, but the Doctor’s touch is so light and pleasant - God, more than pleasant! - that it leaves her squirming in impatience rather than discomfort. There is a rather smug expression on his face and she drives a thumb into the pressure point on his coccyx as a reminder that he isn’t the only one with clever fingers.
He thrusts against her and inadvertently his fingers find the most sensitive place in her vagina, sending a thrill through her so that she arches her back, pressing against him in her turn. His penis brushes her inner thigh, moving freely in the water, only adding to the sensations prompted by the Doctor’s fingers. His free hand is applying light pressure against her lower stomach, which in turn is enhancing the feelings begun by his exploration of her g-spot.
Then all at once the Doctor pulls away, rearing up once more on his knees, and she stares at him in hurt bewilderment.
“What - what’s wrong?” she demands, taking advantage of the moment to catch her breath.
“Nothing.” He beams at her. “Nothing at all. But we’re going to need to add something or you’ll wish we did.”
“What - mood music and candles?” she demands in her most cutting tones.
“Actually, the TARDIS seems to have that pretty much under control,” he retorts, and for the first time she can hear the strains of music that she suspects are something Barry White once made famous. “No,” he goes on and reaches for a bottle on the side of the bath that she's certain wasn't there a minute ago. “We’re going to need this. Some lubrication,” he goes on before she can ask what it is. “Counter-intuitively, having sex in water will actually dry you out, and severe chafing is not the memory of this that I want you to have.”
She arches an eyebrow as he pours the liquid onto his hands and begins rubbing them together to warm it. “Do I want to know how you know this?” she demands.
“Probably not,” he admits, chuckling as his hands disappear beneath the surface of the water.
If he says anything else, she doesn’t hear it because his fingers return to their teasing exploration of her most sensitive areas. Soon she is mentally begging him to get on with it, and clearly he picks up on her urgency. She feels herself floating, and this time it’s not a lazy metaphor or an analogy used by the cheesiest of Mills and Boon writers. She actually is floating as the Doctor draws her body towards the surface of the water, and then her hips are lifted clear and the Doctor slides himself inside her, his hands supporting beneath her knees so that she is still floating on top of the water.
She feels him thrust and finds that the freedom of the water means she can greet his actions with pelvic motions of her own that would be impossible on a solid surface. Her back strains and she reaches out to find that there are handles at the head of the bath which give her more leverage as she grasps them, arching her back so that her lower belly is pressed against his, which only enhances her sensations.
His fingertips, still slippery with the lubricant, glide across those sensitive areas behind her knees and she thrusts harder in her turn, hearing his breath catch and seeing his eyes close as he drives himself into her. She cries out and wraps her legs around his back, allowing him to thrust deeper. He frees a hand and slides it in the tight space between them so that his finger can stroke her in time with their natural rhythm.
She cries his name as the feelings intensify, and his voice is a low growl in response that makes her four syllables something almost animalistic. He thrusts harder and faster as Donna feels herself teetering on the brink, and then he pulls her down with him.
Somewhere in the distance she feels him withdraw from her and then he all but collapses on top of her so that she can feel his arms and legs trembling as she pulls his limp body against her, the water around them feeling almost cool against her flushed skin.
“Yup,” he moans as he fights for breath, “Vatsyayana certainly knew what he was talking about!”
“Oh, please, sunshine.” Donna rolls her eyes, stroking the damp hair out of his eyes with fingers that tremble. “As if you’ve read the Kama Sutra. Next you’ll be telling me you wrote it!”
“Nah.” He quirks a lazy eyebrow at her. “Just helped with the editing.”
She snorts derisively. “You are such a liar.”
An expression of mock-hurt flickers over his face. “I thought you said you were starting to believe I really do know everything.”
“You might know everything, although I’m still not fully convinced about that,” she shoots back, “but not even you can have done everything!”
He grins. “Well, what would be the fun in that?” he admits. “That would mean I’d have to do everything twice! And to be honest,” he pulls a face, “there’s quite a lot I wish I hadn’t even done once.”
Donna chuckles, lightly tracing random symbols on his chest with her fingers, which are still aching from her grip on the handles at the head of the bath. She sneaks a peek, only to find that they have completely disappeared and she shakes her head a little at the way the TARDIS always seems to know exactly what's needed and when.
As if in response, the Barry White music nudges up a little in volume.
“You know,” the Doctor suggests at this moment, his voice rich with promise, “there are plenty of other things we could try if you wanted to do that again.” He strokes his fingers down her upper arm and the hairs rise at his touch. “Lots of - possibilities.”
“Oh, yes?” She rolls her eyes. “You do know I’m going to introduce you as Doctor Kama at the next planet we visit, don’t you? Or would you rather be Doctor Sutra?”
“Actually, just using those words can have you arrested in three major and two minor galaxies,” he replies, adding in uncertain tones, “Or is it three minor and two major ones?”
“If we end up there by ‘mistake’,” she warns him, “then I am so leaving you to do the explanations. Not to mention any necessary demonstrations.”
He snorts with laughter. “But Donna,” he points out in mock-patient tones, “the positions in the Kama Sutra are for two people - or hadn’t you noticed?”
“Hmm.” She smirks. “Maybe I wasn’t paying proper attention.”
“Well,” he applies his tongue to her ear in a manner that sends a delicate shudder down her spine before adding softly, “we’ll have to see what we can do to remedy that, won’t we? All sixty-four positions. Plus a few others we can do right here in the bath.”
“Nah,” she says dismissively, “been there, done that. I’d prefer to try something new.”
“Well,” he smirks, “there’s always the swimming pool.”
Author: katherine_b
Rating: R.
Summary: All Donna wanted was a nice, quiet bath. Porn. Pure, unadulterated porn. Oh, and because it’s these two, a bit of snark. Quite a lot, in fact.
Word Count: 4,153 words
Characters: Ten and Donna with help from the TARDIS.
A/N: Written for the doctor_donna Porn Battle. Specific prompt: water sex
Donna settles back against the curved end of the bath, grumbling under her breath, and makes sure that she is respectably covered by the mountains of bubbles floating on top of the water. Then she closes her eyes and waits.
So far the door has been opened twice without warning, and this after she made the point of announcing she was going to have a long, hot bath.
She’s expecting a third interruption any minute now.
Since their visit to the Library, the Doctor has seemed uncomfortable with her being out of his sight for more than a few minutes at a time.
She still hasn’t quite decided how she feels about it. It’s nice to feel loved and wanted, but she does have moments of wondering whether a restraining order is going to be required for her to have a few minutes’ peace.
As expected, the door opens again a moment later, but this time Donna’s ready for him. She actually manages to speak before he can get a word out.
“Your glasses are on your head, the thingummywatsit is on your desk and the kettle won’t work because it’s not plugged in.”
She waits for a moment, her eyes still closed, and when he doesn’t reply, she speaks again.
“Doctor, you can either stand there, trying to look like I just kicked your puppy, hands in your pockets, digging a hole in the floor with your foot and, most importantly, letting all of the bloody cold air in, or you can stop playing games and just get in the bath.”
The Doctor does a respectable imitation of being genuinely surprised by her words, and she looks up in time to see the stance she had described relax in response to his apparent shock.
“Donna, what...?” he splutters, passing a hand over his mouth, presumably so that she won’t see him trying to hide a smile. The sparkle in his eyes he is unable to hide.
“Oh, put a sock in it, Spaceman,” she cuts him off rather brutally. “You’ve burst in here three times now and that’s more than a co-incidence as far as I’m concerned. And you haven’t turned and run on either of the other two occasions either, despite threats of dire vengeance to come. I basically had to order you out. So either you’ve suddenly lost your mind or,” she smirks a little, “you’re the type who likes to watch.”
He arches an eyebrow, nudges the door closed with his shoulder and steps fully into the room. “And what if it isn’t either of those things?” he suggests, the smirk on his face matching hers.
She huffs impatiently. “Just get in the bath,” she orders, closing her eyes again.
There’s a rustle of fabric and Donna is surprised at how overwhelming the urge is for her to open her eyes. It’s just curiosity, she tells herself. She knows he’s got two hearts and the thought has struck her more than once to wonder if he’s got two of anything else.
She definitely isn’t thinking about kitchens in 1920s mansions right at this moment.
A splash and the water moving vigorously around her suggests that the Doctor has taken her up on her offer - not that she was in any doubt about whether he would - and she waits for a few minutes until she’s certain he is settled before venturing to open her eyes again.
The Doctor beams at her from the other end of what is suddenly a much longer tub.
“Nice,” he declares, splashing a bit to add to the bubbles.
“Glad you weren’t disappointed after all that hanging around outside the door trying to think of things to ask me,” she retorts, pleased to see the pink in his cheeks increase and fairly sure it doesn’t have anything to do with the warm water in which they are both sitting.
Then something brushes almost lazily against her side and she manages to get a grip on his toe, looking up in time to see a mischievous expression twinkling in his eyes as she pulls his dripping foot out of the water.
“I could pull you under,” she threatens.
“Respiratory bypass,” he retorts almost willingly. “Go for it.”
“Mmm, maybe something else then.” She arches an eyebrow at him. “Something you can’t just bypass.”
“Oh, yes?” he asks, trying to sound as if she hasn’t peaked his curiosity.
“Like this.” She lightly strokes a nail along the arch of his foot, seeing his toes clench and feeling his leg twitch against her hold. “Ooh, bit of a reaction there.”
“Not fair,” the Doctor tells her through clenched teeth.
“On the contrary, mate, very fair,” she argues. “I’ll teach you to interrupt my peaceful bath.”
“I’m not ticklish,” he declares, and she knows he must be lying because otherwise he wouldn’t have reacted that way.
“Could have fooled me.”
She traces a light line from his heel right the way along his foot to the tip of his toe, rather startled when his eyes close and he hisses between his teeth.
“Hell of a reaction,” she suggests lightly, pinching his toe between her fingers. “This little piggy went to - ”
“No!”
His protest brings her up short and she stares at him for a moment, taking in his arched back and his clenched fists, just visible through the film of bubbles on the water’s surface. (She refuses to notice the fact that he clearly has the same number of other things as human males.) Ideas begin to circulate in her mind and she takes a firmer grip of his ankle.
“This little piggy went to market,” she continues softly, giving his big toe a sharp pinch.
His jaw clenches.
Her fingers move on to his second toe, giving it a hard tweak.
“This little piggy stayed home.”
Breath hisses from between his teeth, but she’s intrigued to notice that he isn’t actually doing anything to stop her.
“This little piggy,” her fingers squeeze his middle toe so that it turns white, “had roast beef.”
A groan escapes his lips and the tension in his back and chest increases, although the water in the bath is deep enough for any other movement of his body to remain concealed unless she chooses to look. Which she doesn’t. Yet.
“And this little piggy,” she wiggles his fourth toe and for the first time he tries to pull it away, but she tightens her grip, “had none,” she finishes, smirking.
“I swear,” his voice is so gravelly as to be unrecognisable, and his eyes are still tightly closed, “if that fifth piggy goes anywhere, at least one of us will live to regret the consequences.”
“Why, Doctor!” She grins at him cheekily. “Anyone would think you were threatening me!”
And she releases his foot, which he pulls away from her with a moan of thankfulness.
“So,” she comments in would-be casual tones, “erogenous zone?”
“Oh, goodness, no,” he retorts, breathing heavily, his voice still sounding strangely rough to her ears, “this is exactly the way I always behave, don’t you know?”
“Could have fooled me.” She rolls her eyes. “Admit it, Spaceman. You started this, after all. You put your foot there.”
He opens his eyes at last and she can see that his pupils have dilated. Then again, the light in the room seems to have dimmed - and surely those lit tea-candles weren’t lined up along the sink when she got in?
“I have to admit,” she tells him, deciding to ignore the TARDIS’ meddling for the moment, “considering how sensitive your feet are, I’m curious to see just what other parts of your body do.”
He slumps back against the end of the bath, a bead or two of moisture slowly trickling down his chest, and arches an eyebrow. “And this from the woman who just wanted us to be mates?”
“Oh, sure, Mr ‘Got to do that more often’,” she shoots back. “Who do you think you’re fooling?”
Peering at her from beneath hooded eyelids, a smile plays around the corners of his mouth so that his dimples fade in and out. “You’re the one who called me pretty.”
She’s still coming up with a response when she feels his foot gently brush against her once more. He starts upright as her fingers close around his ankle, but this time, instead of torturing him, she pulls firmly and feels a rush as water and the Doctor are all but flung into her arms.
He pulls himself up just short of landing face-first in her cleavage and smirks as he looks up at her.
“Well, I have to say,” he’s beginning when she puts a firm hand over his mouth.
“Do you ever shut up?” she demands, even as his lips continue to move against her palm.
Or is that his lips? A swirling motion against her skin suggests that he might also have brought his tongue into play. And she starts when his teeth give a playful nip of the skin at the base of her thumb.
“Close,” she tells him, “but I would have thought you’d know that isn’t a human female’s hot spot.”
He chuckles, reaching up to take her hand and entwine her fingers with his. “You’re assuming I’ve studied this field of research,” he retorts, able to speak clearly once more, his voice back to its normal pitch.
“And here I was almost starting to believe you knew actually everything,” she mocks.
He arches an eyebrow. “Who says I don’t?” he begins, but she doesn’t picks up on the words immediately because he has begun lightly rubbing his thumbs across the inside skin of her wrists, which was an area she didn’t realise was sensitive.
“Erogenous zones in the human female,” he says as if reciting a lesson, before adding in teasing tones, “or at least the ones I can touch that won’t earn me a slap just yet.”
He lifts their linked hands out of the water and lightly rakes his teeth across the skin of her wrist, which sends a not-unpleasant shudder down her spine.
“Wrist,” he says simply, before doing the same on her other hand.
The sound that escapes her throat is embarrassingly close to a purr, and amusement combined with something a bit darker ignites in the Doctor’s eyes.
“Since I’m down here,” he suggests, and she bites back an exclamation of surprise as he lifts her leg out of the water.
Considering she’s well aware of his proclivities, she shouldn’t be surprised when he applies his tongue to the sensitive skin behind her knee, but she’s shocked by the immediate response of her body to the gentle stimulus. What she does know is just how quick her inner thighs are to respond to any sort of touch, so she hopes it will be a while before he makes his way down there or this game could be brought up very short indeed.
Clearly he has had similar thoughts because after thoroughly exploring the skin at the back of her knees, he pulls away.
“Right,” he tells her, “your turn. See what you can find.”
He rests his arms across his knees, waiting to see what she will do, expectation evident in his gaze. Donna’s eyes rake over his thin frame - this long streak of nothing, her long streak of alien nothing! - as she considers. As with the way he teased her, there’s no point in going for the obvious.
Instead, having seen what touch does to his feet - and now she knows why she’s never seen him without shoes! - she decides she might as well begin at the top and work her way towards areas she knows will almost certainly react.
Reaching forward, she slides her fingers into his hair, scratching and prodding at his scalp. He closes his eyes again, but not with the tension she saw before. Instead she can see him revelling in the contact. She suspects it wouldn’t take much to get him purring the way she did. In fact, he even leans forward so that she has more access.
“Not one of them,” he tells her readily, “but you can keep going.”
“Another time,” she promises, before lowering her fingers and raking her nails across the nape of his neck.
He tenses beneath her hand, breathing momentarily halted, but with his face half-sunk into her shoulder, she can’t see his expression.
“So that’s a yes then?” she suggests lightly.
“Mmm,” he gets out in evident agreement, but she has the feeling it’s an effort.
Smiling, she applies a little more pressure and feels him tense further, only to wilt against her as she relaxes her fingers.
When he doesn’t raise his head, she tugs gently at the hair on the nape of his neck to get his attention, eliciting another moan before he finally looks up to meet her gaze, his tongue slipping out to moisten his lips.
“Nice,” he croaks.
“Nice?!” Her pretend indignation at least serves to get his attention. “That’s what you said about the water,” she exclaims scornfully. “Is that really the best you can do - or should I grab your foot again and see what I can wring out of you?”
“No.” His protest comes so quickly that she smirks. “No,” he repeats more slowly, “because it’s my turn again.”
A shiver runs up Donna’s spine at the meaning and promise in his tones, but it’s not in her nature to take any sort of order so easily.
“Hold on,” she complains, “you found two places last time, so shouldn’t I get another go?”
His eyes twinkle at her. “Donna, I might not be human,” he points out patiently, “but I’m a male so I have less erogenous zones than you do.”
“Less,” she shoots back, “or different? Or,” she can’t help demanding, “have you just not been with someone who knows what she’s looking for?”
He chuckles, tightening his hold on her fingers. “I have no doubt, Donna Noble,” he says firmly, “that you always know exactly what you’re looking for.”
“You’d better believe it, mate.”
She winks at him - and then abruptly lifts their linked hands out of the water and slides his little finger into her mouth. It’s more difficult with their fingers entwined, but as she begins to swirl her tongue around the tip of his finger, his hand goes lax and she can release herself from his hold.
Freeing her other hand, even as she continues to tease the fingers on one hand, forgetting the rules of the game they are playing, she strokes her fingers along his collar-bone up to the nape of his neck. His Adam’s Apple bobs beneath her touch and she continues to stroke and smooth that area. She slips her free hand beneath the water and lightly rakes her fingertips over the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, prompting a moan.
“Cheating,” he murmurs hoarsely, and she arches an eyebrow, finishing his index finger with a delicate swirl of her tongue and then letting him go.
“Why?” she demands.
“Three at once,” he protests, and she feels the vibration of his voice through her fingertips, which are still stroking his throat.
She pulls back slightly, removing herself from contact with him so that she is resting against the sloping back of the bath, and spreads her arms wide in a gesture of demonstration. “No slapping,” she promises in teasing tones, “and you can do whatever you like.”
The Doctor’s eyes light up and he wriggles around so that his legs are bent up underneath him and he rises up on his knees. Donna is surprised by the length of his upper body - all that she can see above the waterline and the fine film of bubbles that floats on the water - and then watches as he looms over her, her lips ready when his brush against them.
His hands stroke over her shoulders and then behind her, pulling her against him as he lowers himself to lie almost on top of her. Meanwhile his tongue is playing the same sorts of games with hers that she was doing with his fingers only moments ago. She moans against his mouth as one of his hands moves to her breast, his thumb drawing slow circles over the skin of her nipple, which hardens beneath his touch.
Guessing that all rules are off, Donna reaches with one hand for his hair, tugging on it gently in time with the movement of his mouth against hers. The fingers of her other hand press over various places one his lower back, particularly near his tailbone, which was a pressure point she had found particularly sensitive in the past.
Without warning, breaking their kiss at the same moment, the Doctor suddenly bucks against her so that she can feel his erect penis brushing her thigh and she realises she was right in her suspicion that it’s not just human males who have pressure points around that area.
“Okay,” he says suddenly in her ear, his voice breathless, “you win. No one’s ever tried that one on me before.”
She chuckles and begins a soft massage of the area that draws a groan from him. He keeps his mouth near her ear and the tip of his tongue begins a delicate and teasing exploration of the folds and creases, which she has to admit is another area that she wasn’t aware could be so sensitive.
His fingers, meanwhile, are once more at play, this time one hand on her other nipple and the other stroking and touching the skin of her inner thigh. She bucks gently against him as his hand creeps up towards her private areas and he pulls back at little so that he can look into her face and read her feelings as his long fingers begin an exploration of the sensitive skin folds.
Usually she’s impatient while blokes are fumbling around, but the Doctor’s touch is so light and pleasant - God, more than pleasant! - that it leaves her squirming in impatience rather than discomfort. There is a rather smug expression on his face and she drives a thumb into the pressure point on his coccyx as a reminder that he isn’t the only one with clever fingers.
He thrusts against her and inadvertently his fingers find the most sensitive place in her vagina, sending a thrill through her so that she arches her back, pressing against him in her turn. His penis brushes her inner thigh, moving freely in the water, only adding to the sensations prompted by the Doctor’s fingers. His free hand is applying light pressure against her lower stomach, which in turn is enhancing the feelings begun by his exploration of her g-spot.
Then all at once the Doctor pulls away, rearing up once more on his knees, and she stares at him in hurt bewilderment.
“What - what’s wrong?” she demands, taking advantage of the moment to catch her breath.
“Nothing.” He beams at her. “Nothing at all. But we’re going to need to add something or you’ll wish we did.”
“What - mood music and candles?” she demands in her most cutting tones.
“Actually, the TARDIS seems to have that pretty much under control,” he retorts, and for the first time she can hear the strains of music that she suspects are something Barry White once made famous. “No,” he goes on and reaches for a bottle on the side of the bath that she's certain wasn't there a minute ago. “We’re going to need this. Some lubrication,” he goes on before she can ask what it is. “Counter-intuitively, having sex in water will actually dry you out, and severe chafing is not the memory of this that I want you to have.”
She arches an eyebrow as he pours the liquid onto his hands and begins rubbing them together to warm it. “Do I want to know how you know this?” she demands.
“Probably not,” he admits, chuckling as his hands disappear beneath the surface of the water.
If he says anything else, she doesn’t hear it because his fingers return to their teasing exploration of her most sensitive areas. Soon she is mentally begging him to get on with it, and clearly he picks up on her urgency. She feels herself floating, and this time it’s not a lazy metaphor or an analogy used by the cheesiest of Mills and Boon writers. She actually is floating as the Doctor draws her body towards the surface of the water, and then her hips are lifted clear and the Doctor slides himself inside her, his hands supporting beneath her knees so that she is still floating on top of the water.
She feels him thrust and finds that the freedom of the water means she can greet his actions with pelvic motions of her own that would be impossible on a solid surface. Her back strains and she reaches out to find that there are handles at the head of the bath which give her more leverage as she grasps them, arching her back so that her lower belly is pressed against his, which only enhances her sensations.
His fingertips, still slippery with the lubricant, glide across those sensitive areas behind her knees and she thrusts harder in her turn, hearing his breath catch and seeing his eyes close as he drives himself into her. She cries out and wraps her legs around his back, allowing him to thrust deeper. He frees a hand and slides it in the tight space between them so that his finger can stroke her in time with their natural rhythm.
She cries his name as the feelings intensify, and his voice is a low growl in response that makes her four syllables something almost animalistic. He thrusts harder and faster as Donna feels herself teetering on the brink, and then he pulls her down with him.
Somewhere in the distance she feels him withdraw from her and then he all but collapses on top of her so that she can feel his arms and legs trembling as she pulls his limp body against her, the water around them feeling almost cool against her flushed skin.
“Yup,” he moans as he fights for breath, “Vatsyayana certainly knew what he was talking about!”
“Oh, please, sunshine.” Donna rolls her eyes, stroking the damp hair out of his eyes with fingers that tremble. “As if you’ve read the Kama Sutra. Next you’ll be telling me you wrote it!”
“Nah.” He quirks a lazy eyebrow at her. “Just helped with the editing.”
She snorts derisively. “You are such a liar.”
An expression of mock-hurt flickers over his face. “I thought you said you were starting to believe I really do know everything.”
“You might know everything, although I’m still not fully convinced about that,” she shoots back, “but not even you can have done everything!”
He grins. “Well, what would be the fun in that?” he admits. “That would mean I’d have to do everything twice! And to be honest,” he pulls a face, “there’s quite a lot I wish I hadn’t even done once.”
Donna chuckles, lightly tracing random symbols on his chest with her fingers, which are still aching from her grip on the handles at the head of the bath. She sneaks a peek, only to find that they have completely disappeared and she shakes her head a little at the way the TARDIS always seems to know exactly what's needed and when.
As if in response, the Barry White music nudges up a little in volume.
“You know,” the Doctor suggests at this moment, his voice rich with promise, “there are plenty of other things we could try if you wanted to do that again.” He strokes his fingers down her upper arm and the hairs rise at his touch. “Lots of - possibilities.”
“Oh, yes?” She rolls her eyes. “You do know I’m going to introduce you as Doctor Kama at the next planet we visit, don’t you? Or would you rather be Doctor Sutra?”
“Actually, just using those words can have you arrested in three major and two minor galaxies,” he replies, adding in uncertain tones, “Or is it three minor and two major ones?”
“If we end up there by ‘mistake’,” she warns him, “then I am so leaving you to do the explanations. Not to mention any necessary demonstrations.”
He snorts with laughter. “But Donna,” he points out in mock-patient tones, “the positions in the Kama Sutra are for two people - or hadn’t you noticed?”
“Hmm.” She smirks. “Maybe I wasn’t paying proper attention.”
“Well,” he applies his tongue to her ear in a manner that sends a delicate shudder down her spine before adding softly, “we’ll have to see what we can do to remedy that, won’t we? All sixty-four positions. Plus a few others we can do right here in the bath.”
“Nah,” she says dismissively, “been there, done that. I’d prefer to try something new.”
“Well,” he smirks, “there’s always the swimming pool.”