Control [Snapshot #2]
Title: Control [Snapshot #2]
Author: radiantbaby
Characters/Pairings: Dr. John/Martha [Note: Dr. John was a David Tennant character in the “Reproduction” episode of “Love in the 21st Century”]
Word Count: 5357 [in Word]
Genre: AU, fluffy, schmoopy smut, with a big heaping side of angst
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Post-S3 Doctor Who, Post-S2 Torchwood’s "Reset"
Summary: Ever since he quit smoking a week before, John’s been murder to live with. Can Martha help ease his resulting irritability? And when she does attempt, will it result in bringing up ghosts from her own past? Crossover of Doctor Who and "Love in the 21st Century"
Warnings: Kink (light bondage and light D/s play), some bad language, and a tiny bit of rough sex
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: For angelfireeast, who requested bondage with a tie (as inspired by her banner), frustrations from John over quitting smoking (and the use of bondage to relieve it), and John/Martha attending a ball wearing the clothes in her banner. I hope this meets her expectations!
This is Part Two 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 time between persiflage_1’s Trusting You and my story Not With a Bang, But With a Whimper. You can probably enjoy this piece if you’ve not read either of those stories, but it may make more sense if you have.
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].
===
[Fic Banner by angelfireeast]
+ + +
“Your hair, it is getting so long,” Martha observed as she pulled John’s hair between her fingers, as they lay in bed together after waking up that morning, “I thought you were going to finally get it cut before the ball.”
“I’ve been a bit busy and preoccupied, Martha. I can’t be perfect little Johnny all the time,” he snapped, getting up out of bed to rummage through their wardrobe to get dressed.
Martha flinched inwardly at his reaction.
He’d quit smoking a week before and between his resultant withdrawal symptoms and stress at work (one of the other doctors had been out for a few days with a bad stomach flu, so John was filling in for several surgeries during his already packed work schedule), he’d been irritable and restless all week.
He’d also been murder to live with.
In a show of staunch stubbornness - proclaiming rather vehemently that he was stronger than his addiction and could handle things on his own - John had chosen to quit smoking without the help of any medical intervention. Martha had tried to steer him away from quitting in such a way, pointing to many of the medical treatments at their disposal, but had been unsuccessful, as he wasn’t having any of it.
He was nearly impossible to sway when he truly focused on something - it was a big part of what made him such an amazing doctor, a wonderfully devoted lover, but now, quite unfortunately for Martha, it also made him an ill-tempered wreck.
Martha’s eyes roved over his naked form facing away from her as he stood across the room, taking in all his delicious curves and angles, and the soft swell of his buttocks and the dimples curved in the skin above it. She then slipped from the bed herself and slowly walked over to stand beside him at the open wardrobe.
“Where did you get this tie?” she asked, fingering the tie hanging with the black pinstripe suit he planned on wearing that night.
The two of them were going to be attending a benefit ball for the hospital and while John had been moaning about not wanting to go all week - “last thing the world needs to see is me in a suit and tie” - she knew that he was also looking forward to it on some level, as he was one of the doctors being honoured for his tireless work at Royal Hope.
“Dr. Bradshaw lent it to me,” John replied, his tone still clipped and curt, as he looked for a shirt to wear to work.
Martha smiled at how it had already been loosely knotted as it hung there, looped around the hanger, and wondered with amusement if perhaps John didn’t know how to tie one himself.
“Having a tie around reminds me of other things,” she said seductively, slipping her fingers up and down the length of the gold tie. She then turned and dragged her fingernails up his bare back. “Do you remember that first night I tied you up?”
John shuddered at her touch, the tension in his back starting to dissipate slightly. “Yes,” he said, in a half-whimper.
Martha continued to stroke his back, leaving faint red marks on his flesh where she lightly scratched him. She knew he loved it when she did that to him, especially when he was pressed between her legs, moving within her as her arms and legs wrapped around him.
Nails digging into his skin at such intimate times always caused him to buck against her wildly like an animal, groaning and growling until he called out in release.
“I was thinking that perhaps you might be able to use that tie tonight, after the ball, to tie me up. Perhaps you could work out some of your frustrations on me,” she said, sliding a hand around his waist to caress his belly and pressing her bare breasts against his back, “I think we both need to get rid of some tension, don’t you think?”
John turned suddenly, so swiftly that it caused Martha to gasp when he now faced her, drawing her tight against his body with his hands cupping her bottom. She could feel his arousal pressed hard against her abdomen and, as she looked up at him, she noticed his gaze - moments ago distant and annoyed - was now filled with desire.
“You could say that,” he said with growl, leaning down to savagely kiss her neck.
Martha could feel her body starting to react to him. The two of them hadn’t had sex during that entire week -- John was often too withdrawn and moody to either be receptive to her advances or apparently to initiate his own. She had to admit it was slightly worrying, especially since after moving in together, their sex life was usually much more active.
In fact, before he quit smoking, hardly a day would pass without John seducing her - often at the most surprising times actually, such as when she was folding her laundry, helping him with the dishes, or just quietly reading.
Most of those times she’d hardly felt particularly sexy, but nevertheless he would just suddenly look at her with a mischievous glint in his eye and push her flat against the couch or lift her onto a tabletop, whispering over and over against her skin how happy he was to have her living with him.
Now he was kissing her again with that passion she’d been missing so much from him over the last few days, but she knew that unfortunately, she needed to stop him. She started to push from him, finding it difficult as he was holding her rather tightly - almost desperately, to her surprise - to him.
“Now, now. You need to get to work.”
“Work can wait just a bit,” he grunted, running his tongue along the column of her neck before pulling her earlobe between his teeth. She hissed in both pleasure and pain as he bit down.
“Now, John, I know for a fact you have the Patterson surgery this morning and you need to leave for that very soon.”
John pulled from her, almost as abruptly as he’d pulled her into his arms in the first place. His gaze had now shifted from desire to what seemed like worry and she watched him swallow hard.
“Don’t you want me?” he asked, sounding small and dejected as his eyes searched hers.
“Of course I do, but,” she waved her hands in the air in sweeping exasperated circles, inwardly cursing his poor timing, “you barely have enough time to shave and shower as it is.”
John rolled his eyes at her, turning to practically yank a shirt and a pair of trousers from the wardrobe. He then pulled out a pair of underwear from one of the drawers and walked around her, angrily tossing his collected clothes onto the bed.
“John, where are you going?”
“Got to get that shower taken care of, haven’t I? Perfect Johnny can’t be late to work or the whole world might end,” he spat, walking determinedly into the en suite and slamming the door behind him.
Martha jumped at the harsh bang of the door. John only ever went on his “Perfect Johnny” rants when he was really upset, saying once in a quieter moment that it had likely come out of the emotional abuse he’d received from his mother before she died and had been a hard emotional habit - his “broken crutch,” he would call it - for him to break after all these years.
Martha had to admit that she hated when he did it, knowing that it was just an acerbic mask he hid behind when he was feeling attacked and very vulnerable (regressing to that scared, hurt child from his past). Even worse for her, though, was that in those darker moments, he was reticent to let her try to assuage that vulnerability within him and assure him that he needn’t be perfect - he just needed to be him, the man she loved with all her heart.
After dealing with the Doctor, Martha found herself especially sensitive to being pushed away emotionally by someone so dear to her - even if, in John’s case, it was usually very fleeting and rare.
Unfortunately, the occasions of being pricked by his “Perfect Johnny” barbs was happening with far more frequency during that last week. She was not used to dealing with such a matter so repeatedly (and with such intensity, to be honest), so she found herself hoping that as the nicotine cravings eased within him, such rants might go away as well.
She walked over and pressed her ear against the wood of the door and frowned when she heard the shower wasn’t running. She knew that he often wanted to be left alone when he was like this, but she was often just as stubborn as he was and could not just sit back without at least attempting to resolve things - especially when she knew he actually needed her, despite any protests he might petulantly hide behind.
Martha knocked on the door and when there was no reply, she decided to knock a bit harder. She was still only met with silence on the other end, so she reached down to try the doorknob, but noticed as she tried to turn it that it was locked.
“I’ll be in the kitchen making myself some breakfast if you want to talk,” she spoke firmly through the door, pausing for a moment to keep her own emotions in check. “I love you.”
---
Martha was about to prepare herself a bowl of cereal when the soft weight of a hand on her shoulder caused her to jump. She dropped the box of cereal and turned around quickly to see its origin - standing before her was John, a lost and forlorn look on his face and his eyes wet with tears.
“I’m so sorry,” he said softly, his voice wavering a bit, “Please don’t be angry with me. Please.”
Martha simply closed the space between them in response, wrapping her arms around his waist to pull him into an embrace. “It’s okay, I’m not angry, a little overwhelmed by all this, but not angry,” she whispered, feeling saddened herself as she could feel him trembling against her.
They stood there quietly for a long moment, just silently holding one another until John finally pulled from her. He looked down at her, moving a hand up to nestle his fingers in her hair. “You don’t deserve me being like this to you, being this…monster. I really don’t want to make you leave. I don’t know what I would do if I ran you off,” he said, his voice hoarse and weak as he ran the fingertips of his free hand along the lapel of her dressing gown.
“John, you’re fighting a strong addiction and dealing with a lot of stress at work right now at the same time. It’s hard, but I know you don’t mean to be this way.”
“It’s just that it feels like I keep watching myself doing and saying such awful things and I can’t stop myself. I only wanted to be healthier, to take care of myself now that I have something - someone - that makes me want to treat myself better that I used to. I never wanted this,” he said sadly.
He leaned his forehead down to press against hers as the fingers in her hair slid down to caress the nape of her neck. Martha leaned back into his ministrations and then sighed. “We’ll make it through this, it will be alright.”
“I’m going to make an appointment with Dr. Reynolds, who I’ve heard volunteers for a helpline for smokers, to discuss some medicinal options I can possibly use. I hope that I can perhaps get some more information about what nicotinic receptor antagonists or nicotinic receptor partial agonists are available to me and what he would suggest.”
“No longer doing it on your own then?”
“No, I think I should’ve listened to my doctor, Dr. Jones, in the first place and not been such a obstinate bastard,” he said, pulling back with an indulgent smirk, before placing a quick kiss on her lips. “I really should get ready. I love you.”
---
Martha walked out of the UNIT building, hoping to enjoy the rare bit of sunshine that day as she walked to a nearby café for lunch. She stopped in surprise just outside, though, when she spied John in the car park, leaning against his car with a smile on his face and three sunflowers in his hand.
She approached him, her heart racing as soon as his smile widened upon seeing her. Even after dating him for about ten months, there was still many times that just a simple smile from him filled her with such grand elation. “What are you doing here?”
“Was able to take a break at work and thought I’d drop by and see if you wanted lunch with me,” he offered with a shrug and then thrust his hand out toward her, “Oh, and these are for you. I thought a sunny day called for sunflowers, plus I hoped they might help toward making up for this morning, or…this whole week actually.”
Martha took the flowers from his hand and stood up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. I’m just surprised you didn’t call. I mean, considering - “ she paused, blushing.
Since they’d both left for work that morning, over the last few hours they’d been sending one another sporadic but lewd text messages about what they wanted to do to one another after the ball that night. They’d not had such lascivious text conversations in recent months, but now that they’d resumed, that old thrill yet again sparked a luscious arousal in Martha throughout her workday.
“I just thought asking in person was better, besides,” he moved closer to her, drawing her into his arms, “I wanted to see you.”
Martha could feel the hardness bent within his jeans pressing against her and smiled to herself. “I can see that,” she cooed, slipping her free hand briefly between them to clandestinely brush against his arousal with her sweeping fingertips.
John grunted in response. “You tease,” he hissed.
“Lunch?” she sing-songed, pulling back from him with a coy smile.
“There are certainly other things I’d rather be doing with my mouth, but I’m here to take you to lunch and so I shall,” he said, leaning close to her with his voice low, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking up all sorts of punishments for you for teasing me all morning.”
---
“You know you look absolutely stunning tonight, don’t you?” John asked, almost breathlessly as he moved slowly with her on the dance floor.
He’d been apparently itching to leave once he’d received his honour - such adulation making him feel a bit self-conscious - but Martha convinced him to slow dance with her for a little bit, wanting to draw out their day-long seduction just that tiny bit longer.
“You like the dress then? I thought it would be a great surprise. Tish picked it out, said she was sure that you’d love it.”
John glanced down at her, his gaze furtively dancing along her bare skin - exposed from the strapless dress - before it dipped down to trace the curve of her cleavage. He then drew his eyes back up to hers again, a puckish smile now on his face. “Yes, I’d have to agree with Tish. In fact, I think I might buy her a nice bottle of wine or something as a thank you gift.”
Martha laughed. “The funny thing is, I can completely see you doing that. ‘Thanks Tish for Martha’s fuck-me dress’ or something equally as naughty.”
“Fuck-me dress? Is that a thinly veiled request?” he asked, leaning down to kiss her neck.
She shivered. Even though his kisses were chaste as there were many other doctors and various community members dancing around them, there was something so simplistically seductive in the soft way his lips caressed her skin. She knew, without a doubt, she was not going to be able to hold on much longer.
“Not so thinly veiled, I should think,” Martha said, trying to concentrate on her words and not the fact that each brush of his lips on her neck was resulting in a heady throbbing between her legs.
“Is that a request to leave then?” he asked, his tone playful, though his kisses pressed hot against her skin in what was definitely a non-playful way.
“Yes,” Martha half-whimpered, closing her eyes, but within what felt like a mere second, she felt his fingers lace with hers and him pulling her out of there hastily.
---
Martha pulled John by his tie through the hallway and into their bedroom, wrapping it around her finger once they were near the bed, drawing him close. In response, he leaned down and kissed her ardently, his hands gently sliding up and down her sides, pulling her dress up inch-by-inch each time they trailed upward. He then nudged her carefully backward, her fingers releasing the tie to let it unfurl with a snap, as she fell back against the bed.
John crawled over her supine body until he came to rest between her legs. He rutted against her for a moment - already hard pressed against his trousers - and then leaned down to kiss her neck and the slope where it met her shoulder.
“Now what was this about using my tie with you tonight?” he asked, his words heated by his breath against her skin, each syllable feeling as if it were stoking her own fire.
“I was thinking you could use it to tie me up and work out some of your frustrations from the week,” Martha said, her words quickly becoming more and more laced with moans as he nipped at her skin.
“We haven’t done any bondage in quite a while.”
“True, but there’s been the promise of you and a tie specifically, since, oh, months ago when I tied you up for the first time with the sash from your dressing gown.”
John shifted backward so that he was now kneeling before her and pulled at the knot to open his tie. “And how convenient that you have a strapless dress on so I can tie you up right now without undressing you first,” he said, twining the tie around his finger after he slid it off with a crisp rustling sound from dragging against the fabric of his collar.
“That did occur to me, yes,” she said with a wink.
“Arms above your head,” John said, his voice now taking on a brusque and commanding tone.
“And why should I do that?”
“Oh, so you’re going to be willful in your submission to me tonight? Does that mean I’ll need to break you?”
“I’d like to see you try. One of the deadliest men in the universe couldn’t break me, so I doubt that you can.”
John reached down quickly, eliciting a surprised gasp from her as he grabbed her arms and roughly pushed them above her head. “He isn’t me,” John said, his voice low and just a little bit dangerous.
Martha only rarely played rough with John as it often made him uncomfortable, worrying that he might hurt her unintentionally in play-space. Still, during their flirty discussions of their plans for the evening throughout that day, she had given him permission to be a bit rough with her considering the circumstances. Though he was somewhat reticent when they’d discussed it, he finally relented when he knew that she would use a safe word if things got too uncomfortable for her.
John shifted to straddle her upper body, clasping her hands together with his long fingers as he used his free hand to wrap the tie around them and fasten her to the headboard. Martha squirmed a bit under him, letting her breasts brush against his erection, succumbing to a strange desire to be a challenge to him.
She watched him bite his bottom lip in reaction, but then he quickly shifted himself to her side after making sure she was securely fastened to the bedpost. He then slipped his hands beneath her, lifting her back with one as he used the other to pull down the zipper of her dress.
John yanked the dress down her torso and hips, being harsh yet oddly somewhat gentle with the fabric as he pulled it off her body and tossed it onto the floor by the bed. He then pulled off her heels one by one -- leaving her in just her bra, knickers, and tights - and then slipped off the bed, carrying the shoes over to where she usually stored them in their wardrobe.
Then, leaning slightly against the wardrobe, he stood with his arms akimbo and watched her as if to survey what he’d done. “Are you just going to stare at me all night or do something?” Martha asked him playfully.
“I think my first step in breaking you shall be leaving you alone in here a bit so that you can meditate on how disobedient you’ve been acting.”
“And what will you do?” she asked, suddenly feeling a bit nervous at his proposition.
“I think I might go and make myself a sandwich, perhaps watch a DVD or two,” he said as he shifted and started to walk toward the door.
“You’re not really leaving, are you?”
“Again, maybe this will help you rethink how disobedient you’ve been acting and maybe it will help you finally behave,” he said evenly, walking out of the room and closing the door behind him.
Martha stared at the closed door in shock for a moment, but found herself smiling when it opened again a few seconds later.
“I knew you were bluffing,” she said with a hint of pride.
“Bluffing?” he asked with one raised eyebrow, leaning into the room between the crack of the door, “I’d just forgotten something.”
He reached over, flipped off the light switch, and then closed the door again behind him.
Martha laid in the near-darkness, the only light a faint green glow from the numbers on their alarm clock. She was surprised he’d actually left her there, especially as aroused as he was.
Surely after sexually teasing him all day, the last thing he’ll want do is wait even longer, she thought to herself.
She shifted her arms against her bonds, struggling to get free. As she tossed about the bed, other more sinister thoughts began to trickle into the edges of her thoughts. The bondage was triggering something within her and she could feel it coming on, as the memories were pressing past her mental defenses ready to break like a wave inside her.
Her mind raced to understand the mounting anxiety starting to well within her - her body already reacting to what her mind had not yet caught up to - and then she’d realized that she and John had not done any bondage since -
”Do you know what lymphocytes are, Samantha?”
Professor Copley. The Pharm. The Mayfly within her belly, extracted by Owen right before it killed her…
“I'd like to know what your funky lymphatic system makes of those imperfections.”
“I am not taking that!”
“But you volunteered.”
Martha felt her stomach begin to churn with nerves and suddenly she worried - however irrationally - that she might just have more Mayfly larvae inside her.
“John, John, red, red, red, red!” she started shrieking, calling out their safe word as she thrashed about on the bed.
The bedroom door quickly slammed open and John turned on the light as he rushed to her side. “Martha, Martha, what’s wrong?” he asked, caressing her cheek as he tried to calm her. “I’m right here, tell me what you need. I’m right here.”
“Mayfly…m-mayfly,” she stammered, trying to ease her anxiety.
John looked at her blankly for a moment before recognition crossed his features. He reached down to caress her belly, shifting his body to flank her side. “The mayflies are gone, Martha. I assure you. You are okay,” he said softly.
“The Pharm, tied up. I was so scared, so scared,” she whimpered, only managing half sentences in her panic.
John shifted to reach up toward the headboard. “There, there. Let me untie you.”
“No,” Martha said firmly, surprising herself and him with her response.
“No? Martha, I triggered you. I need to get you out of this.”
“No,” she reiterated, “I can’t let this memory haunt me, especially on nights like this where I’d hoped we’d enjoy ourselves with your tie.”
“Martha, we don’t need to keep playing with the tie, we can - “ he paused, probably due to the warning look she was sure she was giving him. He then gave a resigned sigh. “What do you need from me?”
“I want to make a new memory.”
“For this?” he asked, caressing her bound wrists with his thumb.
“For this.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, very sure.”
---
“What’s scaring you the most right now?” John asked softly as he sat next to Martha. “We’ll work on that.”
Her wrists were still tied to the headboard by her choice, but they’d agreed to talk through things and that she would ask to be released if needed.
“Lack of control.”
“Okay, what if you control me? Learn that you can stay in control even if you are tied up.”
“But we were supposed to be working out your frustrations,” Martha said with a frown.
“Well, first of all, I care too much about you to not have any problems with easily setting aside those desires to help you instead. Secondly, I think you’ve distracted me quite well at the moment, which goes a lot toward my frustration relief, I must say. And finally, I’m honestly a bit overwhelmed with all that I’m juggling at the moment, so I think giving up control will do me some good as well.”
“Okay.”
Martha was still a bit unsure, if she were honest. She could tell that John had in fact been distracted of course - instantly recognizing that part of his personality she often jokingly referred to as “healer mode” evident in his manner - but as she so often felt in the past when that powerful focus of his was on her, she was a bit uncomfortable.
As a healer herself, she liked to focus her energy outward, to focus on the healing of others, but when such a microscope was turned on her (especially from someone who cared as deeply for her as John did and who wouldn’t let her hide her feelings from him), she had to admit that she often felt like a cornered animal.
“I love you,” John said softly, reaching over to caress her cheek as he brought her thoughts back to the present. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
“I want…to remember what it feels like to enjoy being tied up again.”
---
Martha’s head lolled back against the pillow as John slowly dragged his tongue against the folds of her sex. He’d ever so slowly taken the rest of her clothes off, caressing and kissing every inch of her skin as he exposed it, taking breaks to softly massage the muscles of her arms taut above her head - all as if worshipping her - and now he was circling her body with gentle kisses and licks, languidly mapping each and every curve of her with his mouth.
She’d learned to not feel so self-conscious anymore when he did such things - instead letting herself get lost in the praises he would press against her each time his lips or tongue would touch her skin (as if trying to leave an indelible impression of his feelings on her very flesh), knowing how much he relished any opportunity to enjoy her in this way.
He’d always say how much he loved to just lose himself in her, and, in those moments, sparks of insecurity that crept out of dark corners into her consciousness would leave her to pray hard that she would never lose him from her life.
This time, he’d slowly drawn her arousal up to the point that she was now begging him to make her come, aching from him kindling the flames beneath her skin that hotly rushed through her veins and coiled in her belly and legs, until she felt she might just burst.
It was nice to take such time with each other again, as lately they were often prone to having more fervid trysts instead - which, with them pushing each other passionately against walls and practically tearing one another’s clothes off in voracious desire, have their own high points as well.
Still, slowing things down - enjoying one another in those protracted languorous moments, as time seemed to just ease by - did have its gratifying benefits as well.
“Make you come?” John murmured, his breathing hot against the skin of her sex.
“Yes,” she whimpered.
“You’re in charge,” he said with a chuckle, but then quickly pressed his mouth harder against her, pushing his tongue inside her to stroke and curl against her vaginal walls.
Martha shuddered, arching her body against his soft penetration, rutting herself against his nose and lips as she delighted in that building tingling friction between them. Soon his finger replaced his tongue and his lips wrapped around her hardened clit, suckling as he eased another finger inside her and slowly dragged them in and out of her, crooking them upward.
Her body trembled against him and she pulled tight against her bonds as the tension rose steadily within her until her pleasure crested and she rode the wave of her orgasm - shouting a string of expletives and praises to deities she wasn’t even sure existed -- until it tapered into breathy gasps and moans.
She lay with her eyes shut, only vaguely aware of John’s movements as he pulled his fingers and mouth from her, but opened them wide in a throaty grunt when she felt him suddenly enter her, pushing himself deep inside her as he pulled her legs up to rest on his shoulders.
“Yes,” he hissed, just slowly rutting against her in small circles as he pressed tightly against her, before pulling out and slamming back against her, harder this time. She called out his name, moving her hips against him, meeting each thrust, as she wanted nothing more than to connect with him as deeply as possible.
Martha smiled at the growls emanating from his delicate reddened lips, as always loving the sounds he made when he was with her - from the clipped grunts to the wispy moans to the throaty howls that twisted like a song into her name when he climaxed - Oh, Martha, yes, Martha, Martha, Martha -
And just then he was coming against her - grinding and growling and grunting and howling - and all of the frustrations from the week seemed to ease from him with each sharp utterance puncturing that hanging tension in the air around them.
John then fell bonelessly against her, breathing heavy and warm against her shoulder as he whispered his affections in a string of quiet murmurs.
Soon propped up onto his elbows, concern was now evident in his eyes as he reached to massage her arms with his thumbs. “How are you, my darling?” he whispered. “Shall I free you now?”
“I think so, I’m starting to get a bit sore,” she replied, her wrists squirming a bit against the fabric of the tie.
John shifted to lie beside her and reached upward to deftly untie her. Once freed, he then tossed the tie onto the floor beside the bed and quickly grabbed her wrists, pressing kisses against the light red marks coloring them.
He whispered to her in between each kiss, as his soft lips began to cool her heated flesh, “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you...”
Author: radiantbaby
Characters/Pairings: Dr. John/Martha [Note: Dr. John was a David Tennant character in the “Reproduction” episode of “Love in the 21st Century”]
Word Count: 5357 [in Word]
Genre: AU, fluffy, schmoopy smut, with a big heaping side of angst
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Post-S3 Doctor Who, Post-S2 Torchwood’s "Reset"
Summary: Ever since he quit smoking a week before, John’s been murder to live with. Can Martha help ease his resulting irritability? And when she does attempt, will it result in bringing up ghosts from her own past? Crossover of Doctor Who and "Love in the 21st Century"
Warnings: Kink (light bondage and light D/s play), some bad language, and a tiny bit of rough sex
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: For angelfireeast, who requested bondage with a tie (as inspired by her banner), frustrations from John over quitting smoking (and the use of bondage to relieve it), and John/Martha attending a ball wearing the clothes in her banner. I hope this meets her expectations!
This is Part Two 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 time between persiflage_1’s Trusting You and my story Not With a Bang, But With a Whimper. You can probably enjoy this piece if you’ve not read either of those stories, but it may make more sense if you have.
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].
===
[Fic Banner by angelfireeast]
+ + +
“Your hair, it is getting so long,” Martha observed as she pulled John’s hair between her fingers, as they lay in bed together after waking up that morning, “I thought you were going to finally get it cut before the ball.”
“I’ve been a bit busy and preoccupied, Martha. I can’t be perfect little Johnny all the time,” he snapped, getting up out of bed to rummage through their wardrobe to get dressed.
Martha flinched inwardly at his reaction.
He’d quit smoking a week before and between his resultant withdrawal symptoms and stress at work (one of the other doctors had been out for a few days with a bad stomach flu, so John was filling in for several surgeries during his already packed work schedule), he’d been irritable and restless all week.
He’d also been murder to live with.
In a show of staunch stubbornness - proclaiming rather vehemently that he was stronger than his addiction and could handle things on his own - John had chosen to quit smoking without the help of any medical intervention. Martha had tried to steer him away from quitting in such a way, pointing to many of the medical treatments at their disposal, but had been unsuccessful, as he wasn’t having any of it.
He was nearly impossible to sway when he truly focused on something - it was a big part of what made him such an amazing doctor, a wonderfully devoted lover, but now, quite unfortunately for Martha, it also made him an ill-tempered wreck.
Martha’s eyes roved over his naked form facing away from her as he stood across the room, taking in all his delicious curves and angles, and the soft swell of his buttocks and the dimples curved in the skin above it. She then slipped from the bed herself and slowly walked over to stand beside him at the open wardrobe.
“Where did you get this tie?” she asked, fingering the tie hanging with the black pinstripe suit he planned on wearing that night.
The two of them were going to be attending a benefit ball for the hospital and while John had been moaning about not wanting to go all week - “last thing the world needs to see is me in a suit and tie” - she knew that he was also looking forward to it on some level, as he was one of the doctors being honoured for his tireless work at Royal Hope.
“Dr. Bradshaw lent it to me,” John replied, his tone still clipped and curt, as he looked for a shirt to wear to work.
Martha smiled at how it had already been loosely knotted as it hung there, looped around the hanger, and wondered with amusement if perhaps John didn’t know how to tie one himself.
“Having a tie around reminds me of other things,” she said seductively, slipping her fingers up and down the length of the gold tie. She then turned and dragged her fingernails up his bare back. “Do you remember that first night I tied you up?”
John shuddered at her touch, the tension in his back starting to dissipate slightly. “Yes,” he said, in a half-whimper.
Martha continued to stroke his back, leaving faint red marks on his flesh where she lightly scratched him. She knew he loved it when she did that to him, especially when he was pressed between her legs, moving within her as her arms and legs wrapped around him.
Nails digging into his skin at such intimate times always caused him to buck against her wildly like an animal, groaning and growling until he called out in release.
“I was thinking that perhaps you might be able to use that tie tonight, after the ball, to tie me up. Perhaps you could work out some of your frustrations on me,” she said, sliding a hand around his waist to caress his belly and pressing her bare breasts against his back, “I think we both need to get rid of some tension, don’t you think?”
John turned suddenly, so swiftly that it caused Martha to gasp when he now faced her, drawing her tight against his body with his hands cupping her bottom. She could feel his arousal pressed hard against her abdomen and, as she looked up at him, she noticed his gaze - moments ago distant and annoyed - was now filled with desire.
“You could say that,” he said with growl, leaning down to savagely kiss her neck.
Martha could feel her body starting to react to him. The two of them hadn’t had sex during that entire week -- John was often too withdrawn and moody to either be receptive to her advances or apparently to initiate his own. She had to admit it was slightly worrying, especially since after moving in together, their sex life was usually much more active.
In fact, before he quit smoking, hardly a day would pass without John seducing her - often at the most surprising times actually, such as when she was folding her laundry, helping him with the dishes, or just quietly reading.
Most of those times she’d hardly felt particularly sexy, but nevertheless he would just suddenly look at her with a mischievous glint in his eye and push her flat against the couch or lift her onto a tabletop, whispering over and over against her skin how happy he was to have her living with him.
Now he was kissing her again with that passion she’d been missing so much from him over the last few days, but she knew that unfortunately, she needed to stop him. She started to push from him, finding it difficult as he was holding her rather tightly - almost desperately, to her surprise - to him.
“Now, now. You need to get to work.”
“Work can wait just a bit,” he grunted, running his tongue along the column of her neck before pulling her earlobe between his teeth. She hissed in both pleasure and pain as he bit down.
“Now, John, I know for a fact you have the Patterson surgery this morning and you need to leave for that very soon.”
John pulled from her, almost as abruptly as he’d pulled her into his arms in the first place. His gaze had now shifted from desire to what seemed like worry and she watched him swallow hard.
“Don’t you want me?” he asked, sounding small and dejected as his eyes searched hers.
“Of course I do, but,” she waved her hands in the air in sweeping exasperated circles, inwardly cursing his poor timing, “you barely have enough time to shave and shower as it is.”
John rolled his eyes at her, turning to practically yank a shirt and a pair of trousers from the wardrobe. He then pulled out a pair of underwear from one of the drawers and walked around her, angrily tossing his collected clothes onto the bed.
“John, where are you going?”
“Got to get that shower taken care of, haven’t I? Perfect Johnny can’t be late to work or the whole world might end,” he spat, walking determinedly into the en suite and slamming the door behind him.
Martha jumped at the harsh bang of the door. John only ever went on his “Perfect Johnny” rants when he was really upset, saying once in a quieter moment that it had likely come out of the emotional abuse he’d received from his mother before she died and had been a hard emotional habit - his “broken crutch,” he would call it - for him to break after all these years.
Martha had to admit that she hated when he did it, knowing that it was just an acerbic mask he hid behind when he was feeling attacked and very vulnerable (regressing to that scared, hurt child from his past). Even worse for her, though, was that in those darker moments, he was reticent to let her try to assuage that vulnerability within him and assure him that he needn’t be perfect - he just needed to be him, the man she loved with all her heart.
After dealing with the Doctor, Martha found herself especially sensitive to being pushed away emotionally by someone so dear to her - even if, in John’s case, it was usually very fleeting and rare.
Unfortunately, the occasions of being pricked by his “Perfect Johnny” barbs was happening with far more frequency during that last week. She was not used to dealing with such a matter so repeatedly (and with such intensity, to be honest), so she found herself hoping that as the nicotine cravings eased within him, such rants might go away as well.
She walked over and pressed her ear against the wood of the door and frowned when she heard the shower wasn’t running. She knew that he often wanted to be left alone when he was like this, but she was often just as stubborn as he was and could not just sit back without at least attempting to resolve things - especially when she knew he actually needed her, despite any protests he might petulantly hide behind.
Martha knocked on the door and when there was no reply, she decided to knock a bit harder. She was still only met with silence on the other end, so she reached down to try the doorknob, but noticed as she tried to turn it that it was locked.
“I’ll be in the kitchen making myself some breakfast if you want to talk,” she spoke firmly through the door, pausing for a moment to keep her own emotions in check. “I love you.”
---
Martha was about to prepare herself a bowl of cereal when the soft weight of a hand on her shoulder caused her to jump. She dropped the box of cereal and turned around quickly to see its origin - standing before her was John, a lost and forlorn look on his face and his eyes wet with tears.
“I’m so sorry,” he said softly, his voice wavering a bit, “Please don’t be angry with me. Please.”
Martha simply closed the space between them in response, wrapping her arms around his waist to pull him into an embrace. “It’s okay, I’m not angry, a little overwhelmed by all this, but not angry,” she whispered, feeling saddened herself as she could feel him trembling against her.
They stood there quietly for a long moment, just silently holding one another until John finally pulled from her. He looked down at her, moving a hand up to nestle his fingers in her hair. “You don’t deserve me being like this to you, being this…monster. I really don’t want to make you leave. I don’t know what I would do if I ran you off,” he said, his voice hoarse and weak as he ran the fingertips of his free hand along the lapel of her dressing gown.
“John, you’re fighting a strong addiction and dealing with a lot of stress at work right now at the same time. It’s hard, but I know you don’t mean to be this way.”
“It’s just that it feels like I keep watching myself doing and saying such awful things and I can’t stop myself. I only wanted to be healthier, to take care of myself now that I have something - someone - that makes me want to treat myself better that I used to. I never wanted this,” he said sadly.
He leaned his forehead down to press against hers as the fingers in her hair slid down to caress the nape of her neck. Martha leaned back into his ministrations and then sighed. “We’ll make it through this, it will be alright.”
“I’m going to make an appointment with Dr. Reynolds, who I’ve heard volunteers for a helpline for smokers, to discuss some medicinal options I can possibly use. I hope that I can perhaps get some more information about what nicotinic receptor antagonists or nicotinic receptor partial agonists are available to me and what he would suggest.”
“No longer doing it on your own then?”
“No, I think I should’ve listened to my doctor, Dr. Jones, in the first place and not been such a obstinate bastard,” he said, pulling back with an indulgent smirk, before placing a quick kiss on her lips. “I really should get ready. I love you.”
---
Martha walked out of the UNIT building, hoping to enjoy the rare bit of sunshine that day as she walked to a nearby café for lunch. She stopped in surprise just outside, though, when she spied John in the car park, leaning against his car with a smile on his face and three sunflowers in his hand.
She approached him, her heart racing as soon as his smile widened upon seeing her. Even after dating him for about ten months, there was still many times that just a simple smile from him filled her with such grand elation. “What are you doing here?”
“Was able to take a break at work and thought I’d drop by and see if you wanted lunch with me,” he offered with a shrug and then thrust his hand out toward her, “Oh, and these are for you. I thought a sunny day called for sunflowers, plus I hoped they might help toward making up for this morning, or…this whole week actually.”
Martha took the flowers from his hand and stood up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. I’m just surprised you didn’t call. I mean, considering - “ she paused, blushing.
Since they’d both left for work that morning, over the last few hours they’d been sending one another sporadic but lewd text messages about what they wanted to do to one another after the ball that night. They’d not had such lascivious text conversations in recent months, but now that they’d resumed, that old thrill yet again sparked a luscious arousal in Martha throughout her workday.
“I just thought asking in person was better, besides,” he moved closer to her, drawing her into his arms, “I wanted to see you.”
Martha could feel the hardness bent within his jeans pressing against her and smiled to herself. “I can see that,” she cooed, slipping her free hand briefly between them to clandestinely brush against his arousal with her sweeping fingertips.
John grunted in response. “You tease,” he hissed.
“Lunch?” she sing-songed, pulling back from him with a coy smile.
“There are certainly other things I’d rather be doing with my mouth, but I’m here to take you to lunch and so I shall,” he said, leaning close to her with his voice low, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking up all sorts of punishments for you for teasing me all morning.”
---
“You know you look absolutely stunning tonight, don’t you?” John asked, almost breathlessly as he moved slowly with her on the dance floor.
He’d been apparently itching to leave once he’d received his honour - such adulation making him feel a bit self-conscious - but Martha convinced him to slow dance with her for a little bit, wanting to draw out their day-long seduction just that tiny bit longer.
“You like the dress then? I thought it would be a great surprise. Tish picked it out, said she was sure that you’d love it.”
John glanced down at her, his gaze furtively dancing along her bare skin - exposed from the strapless dress - before it dipped down to trace the curve of her cleavage. He then drew his eyes back up to hers again, a puckish smile now on his face. “Yes, I’d have to agree with Tish. In fact, I think I might buy her a nice bottle of wine or something as a thank you gift.”
Martha laughed. “The funny thing is, I can completely see you doing that. ‘Thanks Tish for Martha’s fuck-me dress’ or something equally as naughty.”
“Fuck-me dress? Is that a thinly veiled request?” he asked, leaning down to kiss her neck.
She shivered. Even though his kisses were chaste as there were many other doctors and various community members dancing around them, there was something so simplistically seductive in the soft way his lips caressed her skin. She knew, without a doubt, she was not going to be able to hold on much longer.
“Not so thinly veiled, I should think,” Martha said, trying to concentrate on her words and not the fact that each brush of his lips on her neck was resulting in a heady throbbing between her legs.
“Is that a request to leave then?” he asked, his tone playful, though his kisses pressed hot against her skin in what was definitely a non-playful way.
“Yes,” Martha half-whimpered, closing her eyes, but within what felt like a mere second, she felt his fingers lace with hers and him pulling her out of there hastily.
---
Martha pulled John by his tie through the hallway and into their bedroom, wrapping it around her finger once they were near the bed, drawing him close. In response, he leaned down and kissed her ardently, his hands gently sliding up and down her sides, pulling her dress up inch-by-inch each time they trailed upward. He then nudged her carefully backward, her fingers releasing the tie to let it unfurl with a snap, as she fell back against the bed.
John crawled over her supine body until he came to rest between her legs. He rutted against her for a moment - already hard pressed against his trousers - and then leaned down to kiss her neck and the slope where it met her shoulder.
“Now what was this about using my tie with you tonight?” he asked, his words heated by his breath against her skin, each syllable feeling as if it were stoking her own fire.
“I was thinking you could use it to tie me up and work out some of your frustrations from the week,” Martha said, her words quickly becoming more and more laced with moans as he nipped at her skin.
“We haven’t done any bondage in quite a while.”
“True, but there’s been the promise of you and a tie specifically, since, oh, months ago when I tied you up for the first time with the sash from your dressing gown.”
John shifted backward so that he was now kneeling before her and pulled at the knot to open his tie. “And how convenient that you have a strapless dress on so I can tie you up right now without undressing you first,” he said, twining the tie around his finger after he slid it off with a crisp rustling sound from dragging against the fabric of his collar.
“That did occur to me, yes,” she said with a wink.
“Arms above your head,” John said, his voice now taking on a brusque and commanding tone.
“And why should I do that?”
“Oh, so you’re going to be willful in your submission to me tonight? Does that mean I’ll need to break you?”
“I’d like to see you try. One of the deadliest men in the universe couldn’t break me, so I doubt that you can.”
John reached down quickly, eliciting a surprised gasp from her as he grabbed her arms and roughly pushed them above her head. “He isn’t me,” John said, his voice low and just a little bit dangerous.
Martha only rarely played rough with John as it often made him uncomfortable, worrying that he might hurt her unintentionally in play-space. Still, during their flirty discussions of their plans for the evening throughout that day, she had given him permission to be a bit rough with her considering the circumstances. Though he was somewhat reticent when they’d discussed it, he finally relented when he knew that she would use a safe word if things got too uncomfortable for her.
John shifted to straddle her upper body, clasping her hands together with his long fingers as he used his free hand to wrap the tie around them and fasten her to the headboard. Martha squirmed a bit under him, letting her breasts brush against his erection, succumbing to a strange desire to be a challenge to him.
She watched him bite his bottom lip in reaction, but then he quickly shifted himself to her side after making sure she was securely fastened to the bedpost. He then slipped his hands beneath her, lifting her back with one as he used the other to pull down the zipper of her dress.
John yanked the dress down her torso and hips, being harsh yet oddly somewhat gentle with the fabric as he pulled it off her body and tossed it onto the floor by the bed. He then pulled off her heels one by one -- leaving her in just her bra, knickers, and tights - and then slipped off the bed, carrying the shoes over to where she usually stored them in their wardrobe.
Then, leaning slightly against the wardrobe, he stood with his arms akimbo and watched her as if to survey what he’d done. “Are you just going to stare at me all night or do something?” Martha asked him playfully.
“I think my first step in breaking you shall be leaving you alone in here a bit so that you can meditate on how disobedient you’ve been acting.”
“And what will you do?” she asked, suddenly feeling a bit nervous at his proposition.
“I think I might go and make myself a sandwich, perhaps watch a DVD or two,” he said as he shifted and started to walk toward the door.
“You’re not really leaving, are you?”
“Again, maybe this will help you rethink how disobedient you’ve been acting and maybe it will help you finally behave,” he said evenly, walking out of the room and closing the door behind him.
Martha stared at the closed door in shock for a moment, but found herself smiling when it opened again a few seconds later.
“I knew you were bluffing,” she said with a hint of pride.
“Bluffing?” he asked with one raised eyebrow, leaning into the room between the crack of the door, “I’d just forgotten something.”
He reached over, flipped off the light switch, and then closed the door again behind him.
Martha laid in the near-darkness, the only light a faint green glow from the numbers on their alarm clock. She was surprised he’d actually left her there, especially as aroused as he was.
Surely after sexually teasing him all day, the last thing he’ll want do is wait even longer, she thought to herself.
She shifted her arms against her bonds, struggling to get free. As she tossed about the bed, other more sinister thoughts began to trickle into the edges of her thoughts. The bondage was triggering something within her and she could feel it coming on, as the memories were pressing past her mental defenses ready to break like a wave inside her.
Her mind raced to understand the mounting anxiety starting to well within her - her body already reacting to what her mind had not yet caught up to - and then she’d realized that she and John had not done any bondage since -
”Do you know what lymphocytes are, Samantha?”
Professor Copley. The Pharm. The Mayfly within her belly, extracted by Owen right before it killed her…
“I'd like to know what your funky lymphatic system makes of those imperfections.”
“I am not taking that!”
“But you volunteered.”
Martha felt her stomach begin to churn with nerves and suddenly she worried - however irrationally - that she might just have more Mayfly larvae inside her.
“John, John, red, red, red, red!” she started shrieking, calling out their safe word as she thrashed about on the bed.
The bedroom door quickly slammed open and John turned on the light as he rushed to her side. “Martha, Martha, what’s wrong?” he asked, caressing her cheek as he tried to calm her. “I’m right here, tell me what you need. I’m right here.”
“Mayfly…m-mayfly,” she stammered, trying to ease her anxiety.
John looked at her blankly for a moment before recognition crossed his features. He reached down to caress her belly, shifting his body to flank her side. “The mayflies are gone, Martha. I assure you. You are okay,” he said softly.
“The Pharm, tied up. I was so scared, so scared,” she whimpered, only managing half sentences in her panic.
John shifted to reach up toward the headboard. “There, there. Let me untie you.”
“No,” Martha said firmly, surprising herself and him with her response.
“No? Martha, I triggered you. I need to get you out of this.”
“No,” she reiterated, “I can’t let this memory haunt me, especially on nights like this where I’d hoped we’d enjoy ourselves with your tie.”
“Martha, we don’t need to keep playing with the tie, we can - “ he paused, probably due to the warning look she was sure she was giving him. He then gave a resigned sigh. “What do you need from me?”
“I want to make a new memory.”
“For this?” he asked, caressing her bound wrists with his thumb.
“For this.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, very sure.”
---
“What’s scaring you the most right now?” John asked softly as he sat next to Martha. “We’ll work on that.”
Her wrists were still tied to the headboard by her choice, but they’d agreed to talk through things and that she would ask to be released if needed.
“Lack of control.”
“Okay, what if you control me? Learn that you can stay in control even if you are tied up.”
“But we were supposed to be working out your frustrations,” Martha said with a frown.
“Well, first of all, I care too much about you to not have any problems with easily setting aside those desires to help you instead. Secondly, I think you’ve distracted me quite well at the moment, which goes a lot toward my frustration relief, I must say. And finally, I’m honestly a bit overwhelmed with all that I’m juggling at the moment, so I think giving up control will do me some good as well.”
“Okay.”
Martha was still a bit unsure, if she were honest. She could tell that John had in fact been distracted of course - instantly recognizing that part of his personality she often jokingly referred to as “healer mode” evident in his manner - but as she so often felt in the past when that powerful focus of his was on her, she was a bit uncomfortable.
As a healer herself, she liked to focus her energy outward, to focus on the healing of others, but when such a microscope was turned on her (especially from someone who cared as deeply for her as John did and who wouldn’t let her hide her feelings from him), she had to admit that she often felt like a cornered animal.
“I love you,” John said softly, reaching over to caress her cheek as he brought her thoughts back to the present. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
“I want…to remember what it feels like to enjoy being tied up again.”
---
Martha’s head lolled back against the pillow as John slowly dragged his tongue against the folds of her sex. He’d ever so slowly taken the rest of her clothes off, caressing and kissing every inch of her skin as he exposed it, taking breaks to softly massage the muscles of her arms taut above her head - all as if worshipping her - and now he was circling her body with gentle kisses and licks, languidly mapping each and every curve of her with his mouth.
She’d learned to not feel so self-conscious anymore when he did such things - instead letting herself get lost in the praises he would press against her each time his lips or tongue would touch her skin (as if trying to leave an indelible impression of his feelings on her very flesh), knowing how much he relished any opportunity to enjoy her in this way.
He’d always say how much he loved to just lose himself in her, and, in those moments, sparks of insecurity that crept out of dark corners into her consciousness would leave her to pray hard that she would never lose him from her life.
This time, he’d slowly drawn her arousal up to the point that she was now begging him to make her come, aching from him kindling the flames beneath her skin that hotly rushed through her veins and coiled in her belly and legs, until she felt she might just burst.
It was nice to take such time with each other again, as lately they were often prone to having more fervid trysts instead - which, with them pushing each other passionately against walls and practically tearing one another’s clothes off in voracious desire, have their own high points as well.
Still, slowing things down - enjoying one another in those protracted languorous moments, as time seemed to just ease by - did have its gratifying benefits as well.
“Make you come?” John murmured, his breathing hot against the skin of her sex.
“Yes,” she whimpered.
“You’re in charge,” he said with a chuckle, but then quickly pressed his mouth harder against her, pushing his tongue inside her to stroke and curl against her vaginal walls.
Martha shuddered, arching her body against his soft penetration, rutting herself against his nose and lips as she delighted in that building tingling friction between them. Soon his finger replaced his tongue and his lips wrapped around her hardened clit, suckling as he eased another finger inside her and slowly dragged them in and out of her, crooking them upward.
Her body trembled against him and she pulled tight against her bonds as the tension rose steadily within her until her pleasure crested and she rode the wave of her orgasm - shouting a string of expletives and praises to deities she wasn’t even sure existed -- until it tapered into breathy gasps and moans.
She lay with her eyes shut, only vaguely aware of John’s movements as he pulled his fingers and mouth from her, but opened them wide in a throaty grunt when she felt him suddenly enter her, pushing himself deep inside her as he pulled her legs up to rest on his shoulders.
“Yes,” he hissed, just slowly rutting against her in small circles as he pressed tightly against her, before pulling out and slamming back against her, harder this time. She called out his name, moving her hips against him, meeting each thrust, as she wanted nothing more than to connect with him as deeply as possible.
Martha smiled at the growls emanating from his delicate reddened lips, as always loving the sounds he made when he was with her - from the clipped grunts to the wispy moans to the throaty howls that twisted like a song into her name when he climaxed - Oh, Martha, yes, Martha, Martha, Martha -
And just then he was coming against her - grinding and growling and grunting and howling - and all of the frustrations from the week seemed to ease from him with each sharp utterance puncturing that hanging tension in the air around them.
John then fell bonelessly against her, breathing heavy and warm against her shoulder as he whispered his affections in a string of quiet murmurs.
Soon propped up onto his elbows, concern was now evident in his eyes as he reached to massage her arms with his thumbs. “How are you, my darling?” he whispered. “Shall I free you now?”
“I think so, I’m starting to get a bit sore,” she replied, her wrists squirming a bit against the fabric of the tie.
John shifted to lie beside her and reached upward to deftly untie her. Once freed, he then tossed the tie onto the floor beside the bed and quickly grabbed her wrists, pressing kisses against the light red marks coloring them.
He whispered to her in between each kiss, as his soft lips began to cool her heated flesh, “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you...”