A Thousand Pieces [Snapshot #1], Part 1/1
Title: A Thousand Pieces [Snapshot #1]
Author: radiantbaby
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Dr John [Note: Dr. John was a David Tennant character in the “Reproduction” episode of “Love in the 21st Century”]
Word Count: 6507 [in Word]
Genre: AU, fluffy schmoop, with a side of angst
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Post-S3 Doctor Who, I suppose
Summary: John takes Martha on a mini-break as old ghosts are stirred up and new future possibilities are opened up between them. Crossover of Doctor Who and “Love in the 21st Century”
Beta: persiflage_1
Disclaimer: All your Doctor Who are belong to us Sadly, I own nothing related to Doctor Who et al, nor do I own anything related to “Love in the 21st Century” - I am just playing around in their sandbox for a bit of fun.
Author Notes: This is Part One in a group of short pieces that will act as supplements to the main series in this ficverse. persiflage_1 and I have decided to call these little detours “Snapshots” and, as implied, they will be ficlets that are dispersed throughout the timeline, filling in little gaps here and there.
This particular story takes place during the months between persiflage_1’s Martha Jones, Storyteller and Trusting You. You can probably enjoy this piece if you’ve not read either of those stories, but it may make more sense if you have.
We will also be writing regular, non-supplemental fics for the series as well (i.e. to keep carrying the timeline forward) as we go, but those will be interspersed with the “Snapshots.”
Oh and if you have any prompt ideas for future “Snapshots” or other fics for the timeline, please be sure to drop a comment on the prompt post.
Anyway, as always, thanks so much as always to the magnificent persiflage_1 who beta’d this piece! Any other mistakes are all mine. Feedback is happy-making, so please leave a word or two [even if I am a bit slack in responding, your comments always make my day].
===
“Pack up some things, I’ve got a big surprise in store for you,” John said excitedly as Martha returned home to her flat from work.
Unlike John, she had been unable to get the entire day off - needing to cover a partial shift at UNIT until 1:00 that afternoon - but she had told him several times how she was looking forward to the next four days off with him.
After working extended days the last two weeks in a row on an important medical research project (something about cataloguing alien diseases on Earth, but Martha wasn’t allowed to give him any more details than that), he could see her apparent exhaustion as soon as she walked through the door.
Still, it all made him even more eager for their mini-break ahead, especially as he had been formulating many plans to take good care of her over next few days. He was just happy that he was able to negotiate some time off at the hospital himself, with Dr. Harris - a young Doctor who John had covered several shifts for over the past few months - dutifully filling in for him.
“Pack?” Martha pouted, “All I want is a hot bath and to get some sleep.”
“You can sleep on the way as the drive is rather long. As for the bath,” he replied walking up to her. He began massaging her shoulders from behind and Martha let out a deep sigh in response to his ministrations. “I promise one as soon as we get there. I plan on making this a very comfortable and relaxing few days for you, with me at your beck and call.”
“Beck and call, eh?”
John leaned down to kiss Martha’s neck. “Yes,” he breathed.
---
The drive was somewhat long, but thankfully, John thought, mostly easy and uneventful as well. Martha was by his side as he drove, quietly curled up in the passenger seat with her jacket draped across her lap as she fell in and out of sleep, sharing a few words here and there with him in those fleeting moments she was awake.
He couldn’t help smiling as he stole glances over at her as she slept, reveling in that intense swell of feeling that would suddenly rush through his limbs so very often, simply just from her proximity.
Part of him still could not believe that he had been so drawn to take her to Scotland for their holiday together. Seven hours drive was a long way to travel for the two of them - further than they’d ever been since they’d been together, really.
He’d also not been up there for almost ten years now, of course, not since he’d fled his old life and settled in Manchester for medical school after his mum’s death, and certainly not since he’d started avoiding it as it was the seat of so many bad memories for him.
He’d been dreaming of it a lot lately, though - night after night dreaming of his old home. It was as if it was calling him back and he knew, no matter how hard he might try, that he couldn’t hide from the pull of its siren song much longer.
Those old ghosts inside him were raucously stirring and while there was a fearful part of him that wanted to turn off the road to go somewhere else instead (perhaps the North of England, yes, maybe Manchester or somewhere else, he would find himself thinking in spots of panic), there was another part that pushed onward to their destination.
“Where are we going?” Martha murmured, stirring a bit in her sleep. “You never said.”
“It’s a surprise,” he said softly, a lump catching in his throat, despite trying not to be affected. He reached over and quickly caressed her arm with a knuckle before turning back to driving. “Now go back to sleep, we should be there in about two hours or so and I want you to be awake enough for your bubble bath tonight.”
“Mmm, you’re too good to me, John,” she cooed, shifting to pull her jacket up over her arms before she fell back asleep.
He smiled to himself, enjoying listening to her soft sighs as she slept. If anyone could help him overcome his deep fears of setting foot in Scotland again, he knew that his beautiful Martha could. She had always grounded him like no one else, always settled those rattling ghosts that would occasionally seep through the cracks of his happiness and haunt him.
Despite this insistent pull northward, though, he knew he wasn’t quite ready to walk the streets of Glasgow again - terrified of being regressed right back to that lost boy who had walked those streets so many years before - so he’d compromised a bit with himself and decided on visiting Edinburgh instead.
He hated succumbing to that trepidation, letting it rule his decisions, but he knew he needed to take things in stages - first, visiting a neutral place in Scotland (he’d never actually been over to Edinburgh, truth be told) and then maybe, just maybe, if he felt strong enough, he might be able to bring himself to drive that hour over to his home city and walk those streets again, now as a man.
As he neared junction 13 to get onto the A702 near Abington, he felt himself tense a bit and grip the steering wheel just that little bit tighter as he saw the signs for Glasgow before him (almost tempting him to go on straight and not take the junction east), but he took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself as he headed that last hour toward Edinburgh.
He knew it was going to be an interesting few days, but he was determined to make the best of it and perhaps, as promised, give Martha some much needed romantic and restful bliss.
---
“We’re here,” John said softly, caressing Martha’s cheek to wake her.
Martha blinked her eyes open at him and regarded him with a sweet smile that made his heart race.
“Where is here?” she asked, stretching and looking around. The car park they were in was mostly dark, save a few street lights, so John was sure she wasn’t seeing much to aid her in determining their whereabouts on her own.
“You’ll see,” he said, smiling at her before kissing her on the cheek, “let me get our bags.”
The two of them shuffled out of John’s car into the brisk night air and John found himself needing to pause for a moment. There was something in the air - something about the feel of the wind and the scents around him - that made him feel as if he were unequivocally back home. It shook him a bit, if he were honest, surprised by how things like the simple scents of the trees around him could give him such a visceral reaction to just being there again.
He sighed, his thoughts likening it to a scent of something tapping into your subconscious and pulling a long-buried memory from your childhood to the surface, even though it just hangs that little bit out of reach in your conscious mind.
“Are you alright, John? You’re positively pale all of a sudden,” Martha asked, peering over the roof of the car at him.
John shook his head, forcing himself to smile. He couldn’t let Martha worry about him. Not yet, at least. She needs to be taken care of right now, not me, he urged himself.
“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “Just fine. A lot on my mind is all.”
He grabbed their bags from the back and locked up the car. He then offered her his free arm as she walked over to him. “Madame?”
Martha wrapped her fingers around his arm, but was still studying him intently. “Anything you want to talk about?”
“Some other time,” he said softly and turned to lead her down the tree-lined road flanked with Victorian townhouses.
---
“This is really beautiful,” Martha said with a happy sigh as she looked around their room.
They were in the top floor of the Albyn Townhouse, a converted 18th century Victorian house that now served as a Bed & Breakfast. Lydie - a lovely and gregarious woman who was the owner and their hostess - had just shown them up to their room and bid them a good night, after giving them a little bit of information on the house, their accommodations, and when breakfast would be served the next morning.
“I’m so glad you like it. I did a bunch of research online to find it, but when I saw it, I just knew I wanted to take you here,” John replied.
Martha walked over to the window to look out and John slowly made his way up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders as she admired the view outside.
“What is that?” she asked, pointing across the way to the river nearby.
“The Water of Leith,” he answered softly.
“The Water of Leith?”
“Yes.”
He wasn’t sure if she recognized where she was yet, though he had to admit that he was enjoying watching her try to figure it out. Lydie’s Scottish brogue might have given the game away already - as would the mention of Leith, if Martha was familiar with it - but she still seemed to be piecing it all together.
“And that?” she asked, pointing elsewhere in the distance.
“That,” he kissed her hair, “would be Edinburgh Castle.”
Martha turned in his arms suddenly, looking up at him with surprise. She’d known full well of his reticence over visiting his home country from the stories he’d told her of his past. “You brought me to Scotland?”
“Aye,” he said quietly, still trying to fully take it in himself.
Martha reached up, a proud look in her eyes as she caressed his cheek. “I’m…honored,” she said softly, beaming up at him.
John felt tears prick his eyes as his love for the woman before him swelled. “Thank you,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Now, let’s get you into that bath I promised.”
---
Martha lay against John in the bath, relaxing as the soft aroma of her favorite jasmine-scented bubble bath (that he’d had been sure to pack, of course) filled the room.
“How are you doing?” she whispered, leaning her head back to rest on his shoulder.
“Rather nicely, and you? Did you enjoy my massage?”
“I did enjoy it very much, thank you,” she replied with a long pause. “But how are you really?”
“How’d you mean?” he asked, feigning ignorance of the direction her line of questioning was certainly taking them.
“You, in Scotland after nearly ten years. You are more tense than usual and I can feel you trembling just slightly even though you are obviously trying to hide it. This has got to be really hard for you and, while I’m sure you have your reasons for bringing me here, I just want to make sure that you’re okay.”
John shifted to wrap his arms around her waist and gave a jagged sigh. “It’s a lot to digest honestly, but I really don’t want this holiday to be all about me. I want to take care of you, first and foremost.”
“Can I ask why you brought me here, then? I mean, the gesture is…a bit overwhelming in scope, but I worry that even though you seem dead set on focusing on me for this visit - which you really don’t need to do as much as it flatters me, by the way - you have set yourself up for a very emotional weekend.”
John sighed again. “I don’t know really, it just…felt like the right time, I suppose. I keep dreaming of it and I just thought…well, I don’t know what I thought really.”
“You’ve been dreaming of Glasgow?”
“Yes, quite a lot actually. Mostly of my old home, but also where I used to play as a child with my brother. I don’t know what it means, but there you have it.”
“Well,” Martha moved her hands to lace her fingers with his, “you always tell me to not push down things within ourselves as they will only surface that much stronger later on. Maybe you’ve been running too long from your old home and your past? Maybe it’s time to face it again?”
---
“Are you alright, John? You’re tossing and turning a lot,” Martha whispered.
It was the middle of the night and while they were in a very comfortable bed in a very tranquil neighborhood in Edinburgh, John was having a difficult time soothing his mind and his body enough to sleep deeply.
“Still tense, I suppose,” he replied. “Don’t worry about me, get some rest.”
Martha shifted to spoon him from behind, snaking her hand around his waist to lazily caress the downy hair on his belly with her fingertips. She leaned down to kiss his shoulder. “I have a few ideas of how to deal with your tension,” she murmured against his skin.
He felt himself hardening immediately. Martha always had such an effect on him and he was often trying to do his best to tame his urges with her, feeling that if he were to completely let go, he would never want to stop making love to her.
“You do, do you?” he growled, attempting to sound innocent.
“Yes, I should think so,” she replied, slowly sliding her fingertips down the expanse of his belly until she drew one fingernail down the trail of hair there, and settled with her hand taking hold of his cock.
He gasped at her touch, almost unable to control himself as he instinctively bucked his hips against her grasp, slipping himself against the softness of her warm palm. He’d wanted her all night (they’d honestly had little time for sex over the last two weeks, aside from too-quick trysts here and there, with Martha’s grueling work schedule), especially as they had laid together in the bath earlier, but he’d put aside his desires because he knew she was exhausted.
“I thought you needed rest,” he whimpered, moaning as she tightened her grip on him and slowly swirled her thumb against the moisture gathering at the tip.
“Well, I did sleep several hours on the way here and I have been asleep on and off since we finished our bath, so you needn’t worry about that.”
“We’ll have to be quieter than usual,” John said with a chuckle. “We don’t want to wake up the whole house.”
“I think we can manage,” Martha cooed, stroking him a bit faster now.
John only groaned in response, gripping tightly onto his pillow and his thigh to steady himself.
“I’ve never made love in Scotland before,” Martha whispered, nipping at the bend where his shoulder met his neck. “I look forward to having that first time with you.”
“I should think…it’s just…like sex…in England,” he panted, teasing her.
“I don’t know, is it?” she cooed.
On a drunken evening of anecdotes early in their relationship, John had spoken rather candidly about his sexual past to Martha, and how much of his experimental streak came from back when he was still in Scotland with his first lover, an older woman called Claudia Zano.
Claudia had been a recent transplant from Rome who was also a Classics professor, doing postgraduate research at the University of Glasgow. The two had met by chance late one night in the University’s library, as John had been drawn there to do his own medical research due to its reputation of being one of the best academic libraries in Europe.
John had joked with Martha about how, on that evening, he’d been absolutely bewildered looking through some of the texts on Latin in an attempt to help him understand a lot of the medical terminology he was coming across in his studies. Claudia had noticed him in the aisle of books on Latin when he’d groaned somewhat loudly in frustration, thinking he was alone, and had walked over to see what was wrong.
They’d sat right there on the floor chatting much of that night, with Claudia teaching him little bits of Latin, until they had to leave when the library closed around 2:00 AM. A few cups of coffee later at a local café and a visit to her nearby tenement afterward, saw John ending up under her in her bed, losing his virginity, and the sexual relationship between the two of them began.
John said they’d never spoke of love and that Claudia had preferred to stay emotionally detached from him. He’d wondered sometimes if he was just as much of an experiment to her as she was to him, but still benefited greatly from her changing an awkward cocky lad into a more generous, open-minded lover in the short few months they’d known one another before she returned to Italy.
“I do tend to prefer the sex I’ve had in England,” John whispered to Martha, his thoughts now back to the situation at hand, “but then that is because I’m usually in England with you.”
Martha shifted, letting him go, so that she could pull him backward to lay flat. “You always have the right things to say to a girl on that tongue of yours,” she teased, crawling to sit atop his thighs.
“I know other things I’d prefer on my tongue.”
“Really now? Why don’t you tell me what that preference is?”
“How about I show you instead?” he replied with a mischievous grin, flipping her suddenly to be on her back beneath him.
John slowly slipped down between Martha’s legs, lightly caressing her thighs, and teasing her with soft touches and butterfly kisses there before moving his mouth to the apex between. He lazily lapped his tongue against her, a bit heady from both her natural scent and the remnants of jasmine from their recent bath, losing himself to the enjoyment of her taste and the quiet moans he was evoking from her.
She didn’t take long to climax, probably from a few days of sexual tension building up between them, and after he finished licking her once her spasms subsided, he quickly moved up the length of her supine body, to sheath his cock inside her.
Martha’s body arched up to meet him in response and the two of them languidly made love, pulling his own quieter climax from him, before his body fell bonelessly against hers.
After catching his breath, he shifted his weight to his elbows on either side of her head, and looked down at her. His heart raced as he saw his own feelings of love and affection reflected right back at him in her own loving gaze.
“I’m so happy to have you here with me,” he whispered.
“In Scotland?” she asked, with a smile.
“In Scotland or anywhere, but especially Scotland, honestly.”
“Of course,” she said, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “and I must say, sex in Scotland with you is just as lovely as ever.”
“Good to know that I’ve not regressed back into the fumbling teenager I used to be when I was here last,” he replied with a self-conscious chuckle.
“No, perhaps I should send Claudia thank you note for that?”
John shook his head at her in laughter and then leaned down to kiss Martha’s neck. “Of course, I must say that I can’t wait to make you scream again when we get home. Being quiet was a wee bit challenging for me, I must confess,” he murmured against her skin.
“Promises, promises,” she replied in a teasing, singsong tone.
---
Days of relaxation filled with tiny bits of local sightseeing and introductions to local culture - such as the first proper Scottish breakfast for Martha (she’d not been too keen on the black pudding, but loved the tattie scones, he’d noted) - seemed to rush by much too fast for John’s liking. He really wasn’t looking forward to returning back to the chaos of their lives in London so soon, and he especially wasn’t looking forward to more days apart from Martha as a result.
He had to admit that he’d felt a bit guilty about never managing to get over to Glasgow, but Martha assured him that he’d still been brave enough in just visiting Scotland itself, and that more would come in due time when he was more ready. In all honesty, a lot of his decision to remain in Edinburgh during their stay had hinged on the fact that just being in the country had surprisingly been enough to stir up many of old ghosts from his past.
Perhaps he’d not been as ready as he’d hoped before going up there. Perhaps it had not been the “right time” as he’d calculated.
As he lay in bed the first night after he and Martha had made love, he’d found himself deep in thought on the matter. It was in these late hours of contemplation, that he’d found he wasn’t sure if, in light of this startling emotional reaction, it was fair to stir up that many more of the demons from his past by setting foot on the streets on Glasgow again - at least in the midst of what he’d hoped would be a romantic weekend instead.
Sure, he knew Martha would have been by his side as support - as his touchstone - no matter what his decision turned out to be, but in the end, he decided the timing wasn’t right just yet. He did vow to both himself and her, though, to try and visit there in the future sometime, but that would perhaps be when he could focus more on himself and bravely face those demons head on.
“Can you believe it’s our final night here?” Martha said a bit sadly, as they sat across from one another at a local restaurant for dinner.
“I know, where did the time go?”
“I really enjoyed it, though, John. I’m so happy that you brought me up here.”
“I love you,” he breathed, reaching to cover her hand with his.
“And I love you,” she said with a smile that quickly switched from sweet to impish.
He was about to question the swift change in her features but was stopped when he felt her stockinged toes press against his inner thigh underneath the table.
He smiled back at her, nodding slightly at her in acknowledgment of her action. “So, are you enjoying your lobster?” he asked, referring to her platter of Scottish seafood, despite the lingering caresses under the table from her.
On recommendation from their hostess at the B&B, Lydie, they were both sharing a nice meal at an upscale nearby restaurant, The Witchery. John had wanted their last meal in Scotland to be both delicious and memorable, but with Martha’s current libidinous advances adding an exciting surprise element to that wish, he was suddenly thinking she might be taking that to a whole new level.
“I am. It’s all really very delicious,” Martha replied with a naughty smirk, slowly sliding her toes up the length of his thigh to settle between his legs.
John grunted quietly in response and then coughed to try to cover his reaction. He thanked whatever higher power above that might be listening, that their table was donned with a long tablecloth to hide the things going on beneath and that there weren’t many other people dining around them.
He took in a deep breath and watched Martha sipping her wine across from him, a wicked glint in her eye. His mind desperately grasped for something to keep their conversation going - to keep up their charade to forestall any potential curious onlookers - but it seemed each time he started to think of something, Martha would switch the pressure and angle of the caresses from her toes against his quickly growing hardness, and his ideas would slip away just as fast as they were conjured.
He tried looking around him to distract him a bit; mildly terrified he might just have one off in his trousers at the rate things were going. He looked at the beautiful red leather chairs they sat in and at the décor around him, with its dark wood walls lined in ancient tapestries and decorated in gilt, and tried to focus on that instead.
“Why am I thinking you might want to leave before dessert?” Martha asked playfully, giving a throaty laugh. “It’s too bad as I was really looking forward to the rice pudding with roast mango and mango puree.”
John whimpered a bit. “I was definitely considering leaving with you as soon as possible, but - “
“Then you remembered that good things come to those who wait,” Martha finished his statement with a wink.
“Of course,” he said with a chuckle. Martha was using the saying that he’d often used to tease her against him and it only served to turn him on further.
The waiter came by a moment later and cleared their dishes, topped off their wine glasses, and took their order for dessert. Martha was talking innocently about some of her favorite places they’d visited on their holiday, while continuing to roll her toes and then her heel against him when their pudding finally - thankfully - arrived.
She continued to tease him as she ate, sensuously licking bits of puree from her lips and fingers, and it was all he could do to keep himself breathing and not just tug her by the hand out of there - or at least to the toilet for a tryst - before the bill came. Once they paid, they made their way quickly out of the restaurant, with John holding his jacket in front of himself in an attempt to hide his arousal.
With a few quick words to Lydie once back inside the B&B - where they were happy to find out many of the people staying there were out for the night - they made their way back up to their room. The cab ride back home had been a true exercise in patience for John with him doing his best to keep himself in check and not give into the growing temptation of simply slipping a hand between Martha’s legs in the darkness of the back seat.
He’d settled for soft caresses of her knee instead, murmuring to her, “You’re going to be in trouble when we get back to the room.”
Once inside their room, on the other hand, he pressed her hard against the door, enjoying the excited gasp she gave. He reached down, sliding his fingertips down her sides, before inching up her dress to her waist. He leaned forward and pulled an earlobe between his teeth, “You’ve been a very naughty girl tonight, Dr. Jones,” he whispered in her ear.
“Have I, Dr. MacLachlan?” she asked, feigning innocence.
John slipped his hands around her waist and pulled at her knickers to yank them down, too aroused to take things slowly. He then bent down slightly before lifting Martha to wrap her legs around him as he pressed her against the door again.
“Yes,” he replied simply, kissing her fiercely, all tongue and teeth and passion.
He then leaned back a bit from her again to pull harshly at the snap and zip of his trousers, practically ripping them from his body as he shoved them down his long legs. He pushed against her tightly again - this time the only thing between both of their aching points of arousal was the thin cloth of his underwear.
“What are you going to do about it?” Martha asked him with a tease.
“Well,” he said, rutting against her in soft circles that caused them both to moan, “I was thinking of making you wait, but seeing as how I need to be inside you immediately, I’ll have to think of another form of punishment.”
He shifted and reached down to shove off his underwear, kicking it aside before holding tightly onto Martha’s legs and sliding himself - almost roughly - inside her.
The two of them groaned with his penetration and Martha wrapped her legs more tightly around his hips. John began to move against her, his frenetic primal movements pushing her hard against the wood of the door with each thrust. He was beginning to quickly lose himself in her, gasping a bit as his mind focused on the point at which they were joined, as he tried to get deeper and deeper inside her - wanting to be as deeply inside her as possible, to somehow further complete that electrifying circuit of their physical and emotional connection.
“We should…move to…the bed…” Martha panted, one of her hands gripping tightly onto his shoulders while the other tightly grasped his hair.
“Bed?” John stammered, trying to wrap his mind around her words as he fought against the concupiscent animal within him that seemed to control his body and fought for his full attention instead.
“Lydie,” Martha breathed, simply.
John snapped back into his senses for a moment, remembering where he was as a tinge of embarrassment passed through him at the possibility of disturbing the household with their banging against the door.
“Hang on to me,” he practically grunted, as he moved his hands under her bottom to hold her and he turned to quickly walk her over to the bed.
Once at the edge of the mattress, he leaned over to lie her down. She whined slightly as he slipped out of her momentarily as he shifted positions to crawl over her on the bed, but then moaned again when he quickly slipped back inside her, this time rolling his hips against her even more quickly and wildly, gripping tightly onto the headboard for leverage.
“I don’t know that I can hold out much longer,” he growled, slamming into her. “Maybe my punishment will be not waiting for you to come. Maybe I’ll just use your body for my own pleasure tonight.”
Martha only responded with a smile, wrapping her legs tighter around him and arching herself upward to meet each thrust. She then ran her fingernails down the length of his back, lusciously scraping the skin there, and it was finally too much - in just one two three thrusts, he climaxed hard, biting his lip so as to not call out too loudly.
He fell against her, barely holding himself up by the elbows, with trembling arms by either side of her head. He took a long moment to catch his breath, his mind spinning just as his heart raced.
Almost without thinking, he uttered, “Live with me.”
Martha looked up at him, her expression a bit surprised and confused as she caught her own breath as well. “Sorry?”
“Come live with me,” he reiterated, feeling strangely empowered as he reached over to stroke the side of her face and began to let the words pour from him - words that had wanted to reach the surface for some time now - as the dam finally broke within him. “I don’t want to just be living out of suitcases at each other’s flats anymore. Instead I want rushed mornings where I try to make breakfast for us, but burn the bacon or ruin the eggs and we have a good laugh before going out for food instead. Or even lazy mornings where I surprise you with breakfast in bed or a nice bubble bath.”
“I want to see you at night curled up on the couch reading a book and wearing some cute flannel pajamas that I know you own, but never wear in front of me, because you worry I won’t find you sexy enough in them. I want to come home to you from long stressful nights in the hospital and just curl up in your arms and for you to be able to do the same. And I want to look around at everything in my home and just see your presence everywhere, as your possessions intermingle with mine - your clothes next to mine in the wardrobe, your furniture with mine, your toothpaste by my sink…just all the simple things we can share…in a life together.”
“John - “ she whispered.
“Maybe it’s too fast, I don’t know. I just know these last six months or so have made me the happiest I’ve ever been and I…well, I just want to share all my days and nights with you. If you don’t want to move in to my flat or me into yours, we can move anywhere, absolutely anywhere you want. I’ll move anywhere as long as I have you by my side.”
John swallowed hard, the rush of blood in his ears deafening him and the race of his heart making him feel suddenly weak. There were still moments when Martha could make him feel so vulnerable, so afraid, and so utterly aware that just one word from her had the power to cause him agonizing grief or the most exhilarating happiness.
He bit his lip, worried that he’d perhaps pushed things too far. He had only ever lived with one other lover - Fay - and she’d practically dragged him into living with her a mere month after they found out she was pregnant. At the time he’d mostly did it because he thought it was the proper thing to do, a proper thing for a father to do.
The absolute last thing in the world that he wanted was to give his child a fatherless life as he’d had after William died.
Still, it wasn’t about his own needs, never about what he wanted. But now, oh now, he knew with utter clarity he wanted to share his day-to-day life with Martha, to share a home with her, but he had no idea what was the supposed appropriate length of time in a relationship to move in with one another - he’d honestly never really considered it before, usually preferring to be alone and independent instead (or so he always tried to convince himself, as he always kept so many people at arm’s length).
He’d been carefully denying himself with Martha, always devising elaborate schemes to hold himself back from such desires for so many months, always employing the most clever excuses in his head - oh, he’d come up with a thousand by now. All that time though, he’d been silently aching each time she would go back to her own flat for the evening, or worse, a few days. All that time he would do his best to ignore the creeping sadness when his bed always felt too big and too empty without her and his flat just seemed unbearably quiet.
So, he would keep quiet, do his best to never let on about how he felt (something barely admitted even to himself, if he were honest), but instead to show her how strong and independent he was without her. And he was, really, but he still missed her company terribly and the way that - no matter how out of control things got in his life - just one word, one touch from her would ground him, tether him back to reality.
And now, with everything from the weekend - from the echoes of his past to the glimpses of a future with Martha - he wasn’t sure he had it in him to deny himself any longer.
John rolled off her, lying flat on his back as he stared up at the ceiling. “Sorry,” he murmured, “I must have just been carried away in the moment, won’t happen again.”
Martha turned onto her side, flanking him, as she nuzzled up to his neck and her hand began to idly stroke his chest hair. “I know that tone and you know I don’t like it,” she said softly, kissing him just below his ear.
“Just tired,” he said flatly, trying his best to not let his voice tremble. “I just need to sleep.”
“John,” she paused, kissing him again, this time on his neck. “You act as if I’ve rejected you.”
He swallowed hard again, balling up his fist to try and steady himself. “I assumed that’s what your silence meant. It’s all right - you certainly don’t have to consider living with me. It was just an idea, a fantasy, really. Just forget I ever said anything.”
“John,” Martha shifted up on her elbow to look down at him, searching. He tried to look away, so worried that she’d really see how frightened he was feeling. Still, he knew he could never truly hide from her when she was studying him this way. She caressed his chin, pulling his head so that she could still look deep into his eyes. “Silence is not a rejection. I was just…surprised. I never would have thought that you’d consider living with me.”
“Are you kidding?” he asked with a self-deprecating laugh, “Some days it is all I think about.”
“I know what you mean,” she said, smiling herself.
“I’ll understand if it’s too fast, if you don’t want to, I just - “
“John,” she said firmly, lifting a finger to press against his lips to quiet him, “I would love to live with you.”
“You would?” he asked, feeling the excitement of her words rush through him.
“Yes,” she replied, leaning over to replace her finger with her lips for a quick kiss, “very much.”
He wrapped his arms around her, happiness welling within him so strongly that he felt as if he might burst into a thousand pieces right there.
“I love you, Martha. I love you so much,” he exclaimed.
“I love you too, John.”
After a moment of holding her tightly against him, he gave a small chuckle. “Well, isn’t this an interesting conundrum?”
“Hmm?” Martha asked.
“Here I was punishing you tonight, but then you went and made me the happiest man alive.”
John let go of her and then deftly flipped her on her back. Martha gave a surprised yelp and then giggled as she looked up at him. “Happiest man alive, eh?”
“That would be me,” he said, beginning to trail kisses down her neck toward her breasts.
“I thought you weren’t going to try and make me come tonight,” Martha said, obviously teasing him.
“Consider this a…reward, yes. Cancels things out quite nicely, I should think,” he said softly before wrapping his lips around one of her nipples and flicking his tongue against the hardened nub.
“Oh yes,” Martha moaned. “Very nicely.”
---
The drive back to London the next day was a bit of a challenge as neither of them had got much sleep throughout the evening before - as John spent much of that time expressing his gratitude in a way Martha found, in her words, rather “fulfilling, yet wonderfully exhausting.”
Still, despite the fatigue in his limbs and his weariness about returning back to Real Life, it was true - in that moment, he did feel like the Happiest Man Alive.
------------------------------------------------
ENDNOTES:
This is where the story took place, for those interested:
+ Albyn Townhouse (the B&B)
+ The Witchery (the restaurant)
Author: radiantbaby
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Dr John [Note: Dr. John was a David Tennant character in the “Reproduction” episode of “Love in the 21st Century”]
Word Count: 6507 [in Word]
Genre: AU, fluffy schmoop, with a side of angst
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Post-S3 Doctor Who, I suppose
Summary: John takes Martha on a mini-break as old ghosts are stirred up and new future possibilities are opened up between them. Crossover of Doctor Who and “Love in the 21st Century”
Beta: persiflage_1
Disclaimer: All your Doctor Who are belong to us Sadly, I own nothing related to Doctor Who et al, nor do I own anything related to “Love in the 21st Century” - I am just playing around in their sandbox for a bit of fun.
Author Notes: This is Part One in a group of short pieces that will act as supplements to the main series in this ficverse. persiflage_1 and I have decided to call these little detours “Snapshots” and, as implied, they will be ficlets that are dispersed throughout the timeline, filling in little gaps here and there.
This particular story takes place during the months between persiflage_1’s Martha Jones, Storyteller and Trusting You. You can probably enjoy this piece if you’ve not read either of those stories, but it may make more sense if you have.
We will also be writing regular, non-supplemental fics for the series as well (i.e. to keep carrying the timeline forward) as we go, but those will be interspersed with the “Snapshots.”
Oh and if you have any prompt ideas for future “Snapshots” or other fics for the timeline, please be sure to drop a comment on the prompt post.
Anyway, as always, thanks so much as always to the magnificent persiflage_1 who beta’d this piece! Any other mistakes are all mine. Feedback is happy-making, so please leave a word or two [even if I am a bit slack in responding, your comments always make my day].
===
“Pack up some things, I’ve got a big surprise in store for you,” John said excitedly as Martha returned home to her flat from work.
Unlike John, she had been unable to get the entire day off - needing to cover a partial shift at UNIT until 1:00 that afternoon - but she had told him several times how she was looking forward to the next four days off with him.
After working extended days the last two weeks in a row on an important medical research project (something about cataloguing alien diseases on Earth, but Martha wasn’t allowed to give him any more details than that), he could see her apparent exhaustion as soon as she walked through the door.
Still, it all made him even more eager for their mini-break ahead, especially as he had been formulating many plans to take good care of her over next few days. He was just happy that he was able to negotiate some time off at the hospital himself, with Dr. Harris - a young Doctor who John had covered several shifts for over the past few months - dutifully filling in for him.
“Pack?” Martha pouted, “All I want is a hot bath and to get some sleep.”
“You can sleep on the way as the drive is rather long. As for the bath,” he replied walking up to her. He began massaging her shoulders from behind and Martha let out a deep sigh in response to his ministrations. “I promise one as soon as we get there. I plan on making this a very comfortable and relaxing few days for you, with me at your beck and call.”
“Beck and call, eh?”
John leaned down to kiss Martha’s neck. “Yes,” he breathed.
---
The drive was somewhat long, but thankfully, John thought, mostly easy and uneventful as well. Martha was by his side as he drove, quietly curled up in the passenger seat with her jacket draped across her lap as she fell in and out of sleep, sharing a few words here and there with him in those fleeting moments she was awake.
He couldn’t help smiling as he stole glances over at her as she slept, reveling in that intense swell of feeling that would suddenly rush through his limbs so very often, simply just from her proximity.
Part of him still could not believe that he had been so drawn to take her to Scotland for their holiday together. Seven hours drive was a long way to travel for the two of them - further than they’d ever been since they’d been together, really.
He’d also not been up there for almost ten years now, of course, not since he’d fled his old life and settled in Manchester for medical school after his mum’s death, and certainly not since he’d started avoiding it as it was the seat of so many bad memories for him.
He’d been dreaming of it a lot lately, though - night after night dreaming of his old home. It was as if it was calling him back and he knew, no matter how hard he might try, that he couldn’t hide from the pull of its siren song much longer.
Those old ghosts inside him were raucously stirring and while there was a fearful part of him that wanted to turn off the road to go somewhere else instead (perhaps the North of England, yes, maybe Manchester or somewhere else, he would find himself thinking in spots of panic), there was another part that pushed onward to their destination.
“Where are we going?” Martha murmured, stirring a bit in her sleep. “You never said.”
“It’s a surprise,” he said softly, a lump catching in his throat, despite trying not to be affected. He reached over and quickly caressed her arm with a knuckle before turning back to driving. “Now go back to sleep, we should be there in about two hours or so and I want you to be awake enough for your bubble bath tonight.”
“Mmm, you’re too good to me, John,” she cooed, shifting to pull her jacket up over her arms before she fell back asleep.
He smiled to himself, enjoying listening to her soft sighs as she slept. If anyone could help him overcome his deep fears of setting foot in Scotland again, he knew that his beautiful Martha could. She had always grounded him like no one else, always settled those rattling ghosts that would occasionally seep through the cracks of his happiness and haunt him.
Despite this insistent pull northward, though, he knew he wasn’t quite ready to walk the streets of Glasgow again - terrified of being regressed right back to that lost boy who had walked those streets so many years before - so he’d compromised a bit with himself and decided on visiting Edinburgh instead.
He hated succumbing to that trepidation, letting it rule his decisions, but he knew he needed to take things in stages - first, visiting a neutral place in Scotland (he’d never actually been over to Edinburgh, truth be told) and then maybe, just maybe, if he felt strong enough, he might be able to bring himself to drive that hour over to his home city and walk those streets again, now as a man.
As he neared junction 13 to get onto the A702 near Abington, he felt himself tense a bit and grip the steering wheel just that little bit tighter as he saw the signs for Glasgow before him (almost tempting him to go on straight and not take the junction east), but he took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself as he headed that last hour toward Edinburgh.
He knew it was going to be an interesting few days, but he was determined to make the best of it and perhaps, as promised, give Martha some much needed romantic and restful bliss.
---
“We’re here,” John said softly, caressing Martha’s cheek to wake her.
Martha blinked her eyes open at him and regarded him with a sweet smile that made his heart race.
“Where is here?” she asked, stretching and looking around. The car park they were in was mostly dark, save a few street lights, so John was sure she wasn’t seeing much to aid her in determining their whereabouts on her own.
“You’ll see,” he said, smiling at her before kissing her on the cheek, “let me get our bags.”
The two of them shuffled out of John’s car into the brisk night air and John found himself needing to pause for a moment. There was something in the air - something about the feel of the wind and the scents around him - that made him feel as if he were unequivocally back home. It shook him a bit, if he were honest, surprised by how things like the simple scents of the trees around him could give him such a visceral reaction to just being there again.
He sighed, his thoughts likening it to a scent of something tapping into your subconscious and pulling a long-buried memory from your childhood to the surface, even though it just hangs that little bit out of reach in your conscious mind.
“Are you alright, John? You’re positively pale all of a sudden,” Martha asked, peering over the roof of the car at him.
John shook his head, forcing himself to smile. He couldn’t let Martha worry about him. Not yet, at least. She needs to be taken care of right now, not me, he urged himself.
“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “Just fine. A lot on my mind is all.”
He grabbed their bags from the back and locked up the car. He then offered her his free arm as she walked over to him. “Madame?”
Martha wrapped her fingers around his arm, but was still studying him intently. “Anything you want to talk about?”
“Some other time,” he said softly and turned to lead her down the tree-lined road flanked with Victorian townhouses.
---
“This is really beautiful,” Martha said with a happy sigh as she looked around their room.
They were in the top floor of the Albyn Townhouse, a converted 18th century Victorian house that now served as a Bed & Breakfast. Lydie - a lovely and gregarious woman who was the owner and their hostess - had just shown them up to their room and bid them a good night, after giving them a little bit of information on the house, their accommodations, and when breakfast would be served the next morning.
“I’m so glad you like it. I did a bunch of research online to find it, but when I saw it, I just knew I wanted to take you here,” John replied.
Martha walked over to the window to look out and John slowly made his way up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders as she admired the view outside.
“What is that?” she asked, pointing across the way to the river nearby.
“The Water of Leith,” he answered softly.
“The Water of Leith?”
“Yes.”
He wasn’t sure if she recognized where she was yet, though he had to admit that he was enjoying watching her try to figure it out. Lydie’s Scottish brogue might have given the game away already - as would the mention of Leith, if Martha was familiar with it - but she still seemed to be piecing it all together.
“And that?” she asked, pointing elsewhere in the distance.
“That,” he kissed her hair, “would be Edinburgh Castle.”
Martha turned in his arms suddenly, looking up at him with surprise. She’d known full well of his reticence over visiting his home country from the stories he’d told her of his past. “You brought me to Scotland?”
“Aye,” he said quietly, still trying to fully take it in himself.
Martha reached up, a proud look in her eyes as she caressed his cheek. “I’m…honored,” she said softly, beaming up at him.
John felt tears prick his eyes as his love for the woman before him swelled. “Thank you,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Now, let’s get you into that bath I promised.”
---
Martha lay against John in the bath, relaxing as the soft aroma of her favorite jasmine-scented bubble bath (that he’d had been sure to pack, of course) filled the room.
“How are you doing?” she whispered, leaning her head back to rest on his shoulder.
“Rather nicely, and you? Did you enjoy my massage?”
“I did enjoy it very much, thank you,” she replied with a long pause. “But how are you really?”
“How’d you mean?” he asked, feigning ignorance of the direction her line of questioning was certainly taking them.
“You, in Scotland after nearly ten years. You are more tense than usual and I can feel you trembling just slightly even though you are obviously trying to hide it. This has got to be really hard for you and, while I’m sure you have your reasons for bringing me here, I just want to make sure that you’re okay.”
John shifted to wrap his arms around her waist and gave a jagged sigh. “It’s a lot to digest honestly, but I really don’t want this holiday to be all about me. I want to take care of you, first and foremost.”
“Can I ask why you brought me here, then? I mean, the gesture is…a bit overwhelming in scope, but I worry that even though you seem dead set on focusing on me for this visit - which you really don’t need to do as much as it flatters me, by the way - you have set yourself up for a very emotional weekend.”
John sighed again. “I don’t know really, it just…felt like the right time, I suppose. I keep dreaming of it and I just thought…well, I don’t know what I thought really.”
“You’ve been dreaming of Glasgow?”
“Yes, quite a lot actually. Mostly of my old home, but also where I used to play as a child with my brother. I don’t know what it means, but there you have it.”
“Well,” Martha moved her hands to lace her fingers with his, “you always tell me to not push down things within ourselves as they will only surface that much stronger later on. Maybe you’ve been running too long from your old home and your past? Maybe it’s time to face it again?”
---
“Are you alright, John? You’re tossing and turning a lot,” Martha whispered.
It was the middle of the night and while they were in a very comfortable bed in a very tranquil neighborhood in Edinburgh, John was having a difficult time soothing his mind and his body enough to sleep deeply.
“Still tense, I suppose,” he replied. “Don’t worry about me, get some rest.”
Martha shifted to spoon him from behind, snaking her hand around his waist to lazily caress the downy hair on his belly with her fingertips. She leaned down to kiss his shoulder. “I have a few ideas of how to deal with your tension,” she murmured against his skin.
He felt himself hardening immediately. Martha always had such an effect on him and he was often trying to do his best to tame his urges with her, feeling that if he were to completely let go, he would never want to stop making love to her.
“You do, do you?” he growled, attempting to sound innocent.
“Yes, I should think so,” she replied, slowly sliding her fingertips down the expanse of his belly until she drew one fingernail down the trail of hair there, and settled with her hand taking hold of his cock.
He gasped at her touch, almost unable to control himself as he instinctively bucked his hips against her grasp, slipping himself against the softness of her warm palm. He’d wanted her all night (they’d honestly had little time for sex over the last two weeks, aside from too-quick trysts here and there, with Martha’s grueling work schedule), especially as they had laid together in the bath earlier, but he’d put aside his desires because he knew she was exhausted.
“I thought you needed rest,” he whimpered, moaning as she tightened her grip on him and slowly swirled her thumb against the moisture gathering at the tip.
“Well, I did sleep several hours on the way here and I have been asleep on and off since we finished our bath, so you needn’t worry about that.”
“We’ll have to be quieter than usual,” John said with a chuckle. “We don’t want to wake up the whole house.”
“I think we can manage,” Martha cooed, stroking him a bit faster now.
John only groaned in response, gripping tightly onto his pillow and his thigh to steady himself.
“I’ve never made love in Scotland before,” Martha whispered, nipping at the bend where his shoulder met his neck. “I look forward to having that first time with you.”
“I should think…it’s just…like sex…in England,” he panted, teasing her.
“I don’t know, is it?” she cooed.
On a drunken evening of anecdotes early in their relationship, John had spoken rather candidly about his sexual past to Martha, and how much of his experimental streak came from back when he was still in Scotland with his first lover, an older woman called Claudia Zano.
Claudia had been a recent transplant from Rome who was also a Classics professor, doing postgraduate research at the University of Glasgow. The two had met by chance late one night in the University’s library, as John had been drawn there to do his own medical research due to its reputation of being one of the best academic libraries in Europe.
John had joked with Martha about how, on that evening, he’d been absolutely bewildered looking through some of the texts on Latin in an attempt to help him understand a lot of the medical terminology he was coming across in his studies. Claudia had noticed him in the aisle of books on Latin when he’d groaned somewhat loudly in frustration, thinking he was alone, and had walked over to see what was wrong.
They’d sat right there on the floor chatting much of that night, with Claudia teaching him little bits of Latin, until they had to leave when the library closed around 2:00 AM. A few cups of coffee later at a local café and a visit to her nearby tenement afterward, saw John ending up under her in her bed, losing his virginity, and the sexual relationship between the two of them began.
John said they’d never spoke of love and that Claudia had preferred to stay emotionally detached from him. He’d wondered sometimes if he was just as much of an experiment to her as she was to him, but still benefited greatly from her changing an awkward cocky lad into a more generous, open-minded lover in the short few months they’d known one another before she returned to Italy.
“I do tend to prefer the sex I’ve had in England,” John whispered to Martha, his thoughts now back to the situation at hand, “but then that is because I’m usually in England with you.”
Martha shifted, letting him go, so that she could pull him backward to lay flat. “You always have the right things to say to a girl on that tongue of yours,” she teased, crawling to sit atop his thighs.
“I know other things I’d prefer on my tongue.”
“Really now? Why don’t you tell me what that preference is?”
“How about I show you instead?” he replied with a mischievous grin, flipping her suddenly to be on her back beneath him.
John slowly slipped down between Martha’s legs, lightly caressing her thighs, and teasing her with soft touches and butterfly kisses there before moving his mouth to the apex between. He lazily lapped his tongue against her, a bit heady from both her natural scent and the remnants of jasmine from their recent bath, losing himself to the enjoyment of her taste and the quiet moans he was evoking from her.
She didn’t take long to climax, probably from a few days of sexual tension building up between them, and after he finished licking her once her spasms subsided, he quickly moved up the length of her supine body, to sheath his cock inside her.
Martha’s body arched up to meet him in response and the two of them languidly made love, pulling his own quieter climax from him, before his body fell bonelessly against hers.
After catching his breath, he shifted his weight to his elbows on either side of her head, and looked down at her. His heart raced as he saw his own feelings of love and affection reflected right back at him in her own loving gaze.
“I’m so happy to have you here with me,” he whispered.
“In Scotland?” she asked, with a smile.
“In Scotland or anywhere, but especially Scotland, honestly.”
“Of course,” she said, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “and I must say, sex in Scotland with you is just as lovely as ever.”
“Good to know that I’ve not regressed back into the fumbling teenager I used to be when I was here last,” he replied with a self-conscious chuckle.
“No, perhaps I should send Claudia thank you note for that?”
John shook his head at her in laughter and then leaned down to kiss Martha’s neck. “Of course, I must say that I can’t wait to make you scream again when we get home. Being quiet was a wee bit challenging for me, I must confess,” he murmured against her skin.
“Promises, promises,” she replied in a teasing, singsong tone.
---
Days of relaxation filled with tiny bits of local sightseeing and introductions to local culture - such as the first proper Scottish breakfast for Martha (she’d not been too keen on the black pudding, but loved the tattie scones, he’d noted) - seemed to rush by much too fast for John’s liking. He really wasn’t looking forward to returning back to the chaos of their lives in London so soon, and he especially wasn’t looking forward to more days apart from Martha as a result.
He had to admit that he’d felt a bit guilty about never managing to get over to Glasgow, but Martha assured him that he’d still been brave enough in just visiting Scotland itself, and that more would come in due time when he was more ready. In all honesty, a lot of his decision to remain in Edinburgh during their stay had hinged on the fact that just being in the country had surprisingly been enough to stir up many of old ghosts from his past.
Perhaps he’d not been as ready as he’d hoped before going up there. Perhaps it had not been the “right time” as he’d calculated.
As he lay in bed the first night after he and Martha had made love, he’d found himself deep in thought on the matter. It was in these late hours of contemplation, that he’d found he wasn’t sure if, in light of this startling emotional reaction, it was fair to stir up that many more of the demons from his past by setting foot on the streets on Glasgow again - at least in the midst of what he’d hoped would be a romantic weekend instead.
Sure, he knew Martha would have been by his side as support - as his touchstone - no matter what his decision turned out to be, but in the end, he decided the timing wasn’t right just yet. He did vow to both himself and her, though, to try and visit there in the future sometime, but that would perhaps be when he could focus more on himself and bravely face those demons head on.
“Can you believe it’s our final night here?” Martha said a bit sadly, as they sat across from one another at a local restaurant for dinner.
“I know, where did the time go?”
“I really enjoyed it, though, John. I’m so happy that you brought me up here.”
“I love you,” he breathed, reaching to cover her hand with his.
“And I love you,” she said with a smile that quickly switched from sweet to impish.
He was about to question the swift change in her features but was stopped when he felt her stockinged toes press against his inner thigh underneath the table.
He smiled back at her, nodding slightly at her in acknowledgment of her action. “So, are you enjoying your lobster?” he asked, referring to her platter of Scottish seafood, despite the lingering caresses under the table from her.
On recommendation from their hostess at the B&B, Lydie, they were both sharing a nice meal at an upscale nearby restaurant, The Witchery. John had wanted their last meal in Scotland to be both delicious and memorable, but with Martha’s current libidinous advances adding an exciting surprise element to that wish, he was suddenly thinking she might be taking that to a whole new level.
“I am. It’s all really very delicious,” Martha replied with a naughty smirk, slowly sliding her toes up the length of his thigh to settle between his legs.
John grunted quietly in response and then coughed to try to cover his reaction. He thanked whatever higher power above that might be listening, that their table was donned with a long tablecloth to hide the things going on beneath and that there weren’t many other people dining around them.
He took in a deep breath and watched Martha sipping her wine across from him, a wicked glint in her eye. His mind desperately grasped for something to keep their conversation going - to keep up their charade to forestall any potential curious onlookers - but it seemed each time he started to think of something, Martha would switch the pressure and angle of the caresses from her toes against his quickly growing hardness, and his ideas would slip away just as fast as they were conjured.
He tried looking around him to distract him a bit; mildly terrified he might just have one off in his trousers at the rate things were going. He looked at the beautiful red leather chairs they sat in and at the décor around him, with its dark wood walls lined in ancient tapestries and decorated in gilt, and tried to focus on that instead.
“Why am I thinking you might want to leave before dessert?” Martha asked playfully, giving a throaty laugh. “It’s too bad as I was really looking forward to the rice pudding with roast mango and mango puree.”
John whimpered a bit. “I was definitely considering leaving with you as soon as possible, but - “
“Then you remembered that good things come to those who wait,” Martha finished his statement with a wink.
“Of course,” he said with a chuckle. Martha was using the saying that he’d often used to tease her against him and it only served to turn him on further.
The waiter came by a moment later and cleared their dishes, topped off their wine glasses, and took their order for dessert. Martha was talking innocently about some of her favorite places they’d visited on their holiday, while continuing to roll her toes and then her heel against him when their pudding finally - thankfully - arrived.
She continued to tease him as she ate, sensuously licking bits of puree from her lips and fingers, and it was all he could do to keep himself breathing and not just tug her by the hand out of there - or at least to the toilet for a tryst - before the bill came. Once they paid, they made their way quickly out of the restaurant, with John holding his jacket in front of himself in an attempt to hide his arousal.
With a few quick words to Lydie once back inside the B&B - where they were happy to find out many of the people staying there were out for the night - they made their way back up to their room. The cab ride back home had been a true exercise in patience for John with him doing his best to keep himself in check and not give into the growing temptation of simply slipping a hand between Martha’s legs in the darkness of the back seat.
He’d settled for soft caresses of her knee instead, murmuring to her, “You’re going to be in trouble when we get back to the room.”
Once inside their room, on the other hand, he pressed her hard against the door, enjoying the excited gasp she gave. He reached down, sliding his fingertips down her sides, before inching up her dress to her waist. He leaned forward and pulled an earlobe between his teeth, “You’ve been a very naughty girl tonight, Dr. Jones,” he whispered in her ear.
“Have I, Dr. MacLachlan?” she asked, feigning innocence.
John slipped his hands around her waist and pulled at her knickers to yank them down, too aroused to take things slowly. He then bent down slightly before lifting Martha to wrap her legs around him as he pressed her against the door again.
“Yes,” he replied simply, kissing her fiercely, all tongue and teeth and passion.
He then leaned back a bit from her again to pull harshly at the snap and zip of his trousers, practically ripping them from his body as he shoved them down his long legs. He pushed against her tightly again - this time the only thing between both of their aching points of arousal was the thin cloth of his underwear.
“What are you going to do about it?” Martha asked him with a tease.
“Well,” he said, rutting against her in soft circles that caused them both to moan, “I was thinking of making you wait, but seeing as how I need to be inside you immediately, I’ll have to think of another form of punishment.”
He shifted and reached down to shove off his underwear, kicking it aside before holding tightly onto Martha’s legs and sliding himself - almost roughly - inside her.
The two of them groaned with his penetration and Martha wrapped her legs more tightly around his hips. John began to move against her, his frenetic primal movements pushing her hard against the wood of the door with each thrust. He was beginning to quickly lose himself in her, gasping a bit as his mind focused on the point at which they were joined, as he tried to get deeper and deeper inside her - wanting to be as deeply inside her as possible, to somehow further complete that electrifying circuit of their physical and emotional connection.
“We should…move to…the bed…” Martha panted, one of her hands gripping tightly onto his shoulders while the other tightly grasped his hair.
“Bed?” John stammered, trying to wrap his mind around her words as he fought against the concupiscent animal within him that seemed to control his body and fought for his full attention instead.
“Lydie,” Martha breathed, simply.
John snapped back into his senses for a moment, remembering where he was as a tinge of embarrassment passed through him at the possibility of disturbing the household with their banging against the door.
“Hang on to me,” he practically grunted, as he moved his hands under her bottom to hold her and he turned to quickly walk her over to the bed.
Once at the edge of the mattress, he leaned over to lie her down. She whined slightly as he slipped out of her momentarily as he shifted positions to crawl over her on the bed, but then moaned again when he quickly slipped back inside her, this time rolling his hips against her even more quickly and wildly, gripping tightly onto the headboard for leverage.
“I don’t know that I can hold out much longer,” he growled, slamming into her. “Maybe my punishment will be not waiting for you to come. Maybe I’ll just use your body for my own pleasure tonight.”
Martha only responded with a smile, wrapping her legs tighter around him and arching herself upward to meet each thrust. She then ran her fingernails down the length of his back, lusciously scraping the skin there, and it was finally too much - in just one two three thrusts, he climaxed hard, biting his lip so as to not call out too loudly.
He fell against her, barely holding himself up by the elbows, with trembling arms by either side of her head. He took a long moment to catch his breath, his mind spinning just as his heart raced.
Almost without thinking, he uttered, “Live with me.”
Martha looked up at him, her expression a bit surprised and confused as she caught her own breath as well. “Sorry?”
“Come live with me,” he reiterated, feeling strangely empowered as he reached over to stroke the side of her face and began to let the words pour from him - words that had wanted to reach the surface for some time now - as the dam finally broke within him. “I don’t want to just be living out of suitcases at each other’s flats anymore. Instead I want rushed mornings where I try to make breakfast for us, but burn the bacon or ruin the eggs and we have a good laugh before going out for food instead. Or even lazy mornings where I surprise you with breakfast in bed or a nice bubble bath.”
“I want to see you at night curled up on the couch reading a book and wearing some cute flannel pajamas that I know you own, but never wear in front of me, because you worry I won’t find you sexy enough in them. I want to come home to you from long stressful nights in the hospital and just curl up in your arms and for you to be able to do the same. And I want to look around at everything in my home and just see your presence everywhere, as your possessions intermingle with mine - your clothes next to mine in the wardrobe, your furniture with mine, your toothpaste by my sink…just all the simple things we can share…in a life together.”
“John - “ she whispered.
“Maybe it’s too fast, I don’t know. I just know these last six months or so have made me the happiest I’ve ever been and I…well, I just want to share all my days and nights with you. If you don’t want to move in to my flat or me into yours, we can move anywhere, absolutely anywhere you want. I’ll move anywhere as long as I have you by my side.”
John swallowed hard, the rush of blood in his ears deafening him and the race of his heart making him feel suddenly weak. There were still moments when Martha could make him feel so vulnerable, so afraid, and so utterly aware that just one word from her had the power to cause him agonizing grief or the most exhilarating happiness.
He bit his lip, worried that he’d perhaps pushed things too far. He had only ever lived with one other lover - Fay - and she’d practically dragged him into living with her a mere month after they found out she was pregnant. At the time he’d mostly did it because he thought it was the proper thing to do, a proper thing for a father to do.
The absolute last thing in the world that he wanted was to give his child a fatherless life as he’d had after William died.
Still, it wasn’t about his own needs, never about what he wanted. But now, oh now, he knew with utter clarity he wanted to share his day-to-day life with Martha, to share a home with her, but he had no idea what was the supposed appropriate length of time in a relationship to move in with one another - he’d honestly never really considered it before, usually preferring to be alone and independent instead (or so he always tried to convince himself, as he always kept so many people at arm’s length).
He’d been carefully denying himself with Martha, always devising elaborate schemes to hold himself back from such desires for so many months, always employing the most clever excuses in his head - oh, he’d come up with a thousand by now. All that time though, he’d been silently aching each time she would go back to her own flat for the evening, or worse, a few days. All that time he would do his best to ignore the creeping sadness when his bed always felt too big and too empty without her and his flat just seemed unbearably quiet.
So, he would keep quiet, do his best to never let on about how he felt (something barely admitted even to himself, if he were honest), but instead to show her how strong and independent he was without her. And he was, really, but he still missed her company terribly and the way that - no matter how out of control things got in his life - just one word, one touch from her would ground him, tether him back to reality.
And now, with everything from the weekend - from the echoes of his past to the glimpses of a future with Martha - he wasn’t sure he had it in him to deny himself any longer.
John rolled off her, lying flat on his back as he stared up at the ceiling. “Sorry,” he murmured, “I must have just been carried away in the moment, won’t happen again.”
Martha turned onto her side, flanking him, as she nuzzled up to his neck and her hand began to idly stroke his chest hair. “I know that tone and you know I don’t like it,” she said softly, kissing him just below his ear.
“Just tired,” he said flatly, trying his best to not let his voice tremble. “I just need to sleep.”
“John,” she paused, kissing him again, this time on his neck. “You act as if I’ve rejected you.”
He swallowed hard again, balling up his fist to try and steady himself. “I assumed that’s what your silence meant. It’s all right - you certainly don’t have to consider living with me. It was just an idea, a fantasy, really. Just forget I ever said anything.”
“John,” Martha shifted up on her elbow to look down at him, searching. He tried to look away, so worried that she’d really see how frightened he was feeling. Still, he knew he could never truly hide from her when she was studying him this way. She caressed his chin, pulling his head so that she could still look deep into his eyes. “Silence is not a rejection. I was just…surprised. I never would have thought that you’d consider living with me.”
“Are you kidding?” he asked with a self-deprecating laugh, “Some days it is all I think about.”
“I know what you mean,” she said, smiling herself.
“I’ll understand if it’s too fast, if you don’t want to, I just - “
“John,” she said firmly, lifting a finger to press against his lips to quiet him, “I would love to live with you.”
“You would?” he asked, feeling the excitement of her words rush through him.
“Yes,” she replied, leaning over to replace her finger with her lips for a quick kiss, “very much.”
He wrapped his arms around her, happiness welling within him so strongly that he felt as if he might burst into a thousand pieces right there.
“I love you, Martha. I love you so much,” he exclaimed.
“I love you too, John.”
After a moment of holding her tightly against him, he gave a small chuckle. “Well, isn’t this an interesting conundrum?”
“Hmm?” Martha asked.
“Here I was punishing you tonight, but then you went and made me the happiest man alive.”
John let go of her and then deftly flipped her on her back. Martha gave a surprised yelp and then giggled as she looked up at him. “Happiest man alive, eh?”
“That would be me,” he said, beginning to trail kisses down her neck toward her breasts.
“I thought you weren’t going to try and make me come tonight,” Martha said, obviously teasing him.
“Consider this a…reward, yes. Cancels things out quite nicely, I should think,” he said softly before wrapping his lips around one of her nipples and flicking his tongue against the hardened nub.
“Oh yes,” Martha moaned. “Very nicely.”
---
The drive back to London the next day was a bit of a challenge as neither of them had got much sleep throughout the evening before - as John spent much of that time expressing his gratitude in a way Martha found, in her words, rather “fulfilling, yet wonderfully exhausting.”
Still, despite the fatigue in his limbs and his weariness about returning back to Real Life, it was true - in that moment, he did feel like the Happiest Man Alive.
------------------------------------------------
ENDNOTES:
This is where the story took place, for those interested:
+ Albyn Townhouse (the B&B)
+ The Witchery (the restaurant)