Pleasure
Who_Daily Link: < a href="http://persiflage-1.livejournal.com/264423.html">Pleasure by < lj user=persiflage_1> (Characters: Martha/Nighy!Eleven | Rating: NC-17 | Spoilers: None - AU Post-S4)
Title: Pleasure
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Nighy!Eleven
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None (AU Post-S4)
Summary: Martha and the Doctor make some discoveries on an alien planet.
Disclaimer: I occasionally wish that I did own it!
Author Notes: The latest of my Whoniverse fics for 20_est_relships. The prompt was 03. Pleasure (Prompt table here and timeline here.) This story is set before the events of Past Times and Surprise took place.
Betas: the lovely fourzoas and catholicphoton
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Fic banner by mischief89
Martha had been travelling with the Doctor for about three weeks now, and she felt that they had settled into their renewed friendship fairly well. She was still getting to know this new incarnation’s quirks and habits, although some things she’d discovered quickly: that he preferred coffee to tea first thing in the morning; that he didn’t go in for manic babble, but he was happy to answer her questions and even, occasionally, volunteer personal information without being asked; and that he liked to hold her hand, especially if they were sightseeing somewhere. Like now: they were visiting a museum to scientific endeavour on the planet of Strelen, and as they wandered amongst the exhibits he held her hand, occasionally rubbing his thumb across her palm.
“Now then, Dr Jones, how do you fancy a spot of lunch, and afterwards we can explore the market?”
“Sounds good,” Martha said easily, allowing him to lead her out of the museum; they walked down the street until they reached a large café with an outdoor seating area.
“This looks nice,” she said, gesturing at the tables with their umbrellas overhead.
“Okay. So, what do you fancy?” They looked up at the menu board hanging in the window. “Something light or something filling?” He looked down into her eyes as she looked up, and Martha had the strangest sensation of sinking into a calm blue pool. She blinked twice, then looked back at the menu.
“Something light,” she answered. “Like a salad, or an omelette, or a baked potato - well, whatever the local equivalent is, please.”
“All right. Let’s ask the waiter and see what he recommends.”
They settled themselves at a table under a large oak-like tree, the branches giving them shade instead of a blue and green striped umbrella like the other tables had. After a few moments a young male humanoid approached them; the Strelens had pale green skin and bright orange hair, and on first seeing them Martha had been reminded irresistibly of carrots in reverse, although she was wise enough not to say so aloud for fear of causing offence.
The Doctor asked the waiter about salads, checking that nothing in it would be harmful to a human digestive system, then ordered two bowls and two glasses of iced fruit juice to go with them.
While they ate the Doctor asked Martha where she wanted to visit next, suggesting that she might find it interesting to visit someone from Earth’s past who had played a significant role in the development of medicine.
“It’s the one thing I always meant to do when you travelled with me the first time,” he said, “and we never managed it, to my shame.”
She reached across the corner of the table and covered his hand with hers, giving it a brief squeeze. “I’d like that,” she agreed. “Arthur Leared or James Simpson would be interesting.”
The Doctor quirked an eyebrow at her. “The inventor of the binaural stethoscope and the first man to use chloroform for anaesthetic. Not Louis Pasteur or Alexander Fleming, or even Florence Nightingale?”
Martha gave a shrug. “They’d be interesting too - but Simpson and Leared interest me more.” She smiled at him. “Or we could do a historical tour of major medical breakthroughs,” she suggested.
He laughed. “We could, at that.”
“You’d get bored before we were half done,” she said.
He looked hurt. “Why would I get bored? It would be as interesting to me as to you.”
“Sorry. I just - I wasn’t thinking.” She buried her face in her glass of fruit juice, embarrassed, because she’d been thinking of his previous incarnation when she’d said he’d find such a tour boring.
He seemed to sense some of what she was thinking because he reached out and took her hand, much as she’d taken his a short while ago, squeezing her fingers gently. “Martha Jones, let me assure you that whatever interests you will interest me. I want you to enjoy travelling with me this time around, and I certainly don’t want to see you end up working as a servant, or having to support me because we’re stuck somewhere without the TARDIS. And I definitely do not want you to have to spend a year walking the Earth, or anywhere else, in order to save it.” He let go of her hand and cupped her cheek with his hand. “As I told you when you agreed to travel with me again, things are going to be much different this time. I didn’t invite you to travel with me a second time just so I could repeat my mistakes from the first time.”
She nodded, biting her bottom lip because there was a wealth of emotion in his blue eyes that she wasn’t used to seeing when the Doctor looked at her, and it slightly unnerved her.
He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, then turned his attention to finishing his salad, and Martha blinked in surprise at his unexpected gesture. Then she gave herself a mental shake, telling herself not to read anything into what he did - she’d made that mistake before, and she, like the Doctor, was determined not to repeat the mistakes of the past.
“Do you want some dessert, or shall we go and look at the market?” he asked as he downed the last of his fruit juice.
“Let’s go and look at the market.”
“Okay.” He put a bank note of some kind down on the table, with a nod to the approaching waiter, then took Martha’s hand and led her further down the street until they reached a large square with official-looking buildings around the edges. The open space was packed with stalls with brightly coloured awnings, and dozens and dozens of people - most were Strelens, but some looked like humans.
“Wow!” Martha couldn’t help voicing her amazement at the sight: she’d never seen anything like this in her previous travels with the Doctor.
He smiled down at her and then swallowed hard as he realised just how beautiful she looked at the moment: the excitement, wonder and curiosity in her expression was almost mesmerising, and he had to force himself to look away before she caught him staring. This was one aspect of travelling with Martha again that he hadn't anticipated: he wanted more than her friendship, but he wasn't at all sure she would feel the same way.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yeah!” she answered, slightly breathless in anticipation of exploring the market; already she could see several stalls that she wanted to take a closer look at. “Oh!”
“What’s wrong?” asked the Doctor, alarmed by how her tone had changed from joy to sadness.
“I haven’t got any money that’s suitable.” She bit her lip, fighting back her disappointment.
“Silly girl,” he said, “They'll have a money changer here somewhere - there are a fair number of humans here, after all.” He put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed, then let go to grab her hand. "Come on, let's see if we can find them."
He looked around and then spotted a flag with a pile of coins depicted on it fluttering from a stall a few yards away. "Over there, look."
They headed over to the stall and the Doctor spoke to the burly man behind the counter for a few moments.
Five minutes later Martha had a large handful of banknotes and a smaller one of coins, at which she blinked in surprise. "Wow! That's a good rate of exchange."
The Doctor grinned as he handed her a wallet he'd pulled out of his jacket pocket. "Isn't it? Anything you don't spend, we'll change back before we go."
“Thanks.” She turned and stretched up to kiss his cheek, then turned to look at the market again, missing the expression of mingled surprise and need on the Doctor’s face.
He swallowed hard before trusting his voice to speak. “What do you want to look at first?” he asked.
“That stall over there,” she said, pointing to a large one that was piled high with clothing.
“Clothes. Why aren't I surprised?” he asked.
She swatted at his arm. "Cheeky. I want to get something native for mum and Tish."
He laughed, then grabbed the hand she'd swatted him with. "Come on then, Dr Jones, let's find something really exotic for the Jones women to wear."
They wandered the market for over an hour, sometimes just stopping to look and admire items, and sometimes buying things as well. Finally, just as Martha was beginning to tire, the Doctor wandered over to a stall selling perfumes.
“What do you think of this?” he asked, uncorking a pretty blue phial and holding the bottle out to her.
She leaned in and gave an experimental sniff. “Smells nice,” she answered, “makes me feel relaxed, somehow.”
“That’s the jasmine, ma’am,” the stall holder said. “We import that one from one of the human colonies a few light years away. It’s very popular with our human customers.”
“Would you like a bottle?” the Doctor asked.
Martha felt her face flush with embarrassment and pleasure. “Yes, please.” Somehow the gift of perfume seemed almost intimate: she still clearly remembered the one occasion Tom had given her perfume, back when she’d been dating him. It seemed like such a long time ago that he’d been killed while protecting children from the Daleks, although it was really only 18 months.
“Are you okay?” the Doctor asked gently, worried by her sad expression.
“Yeah, just remembering something,” she said. “And feeling a bit tired.”
He accepted the bottle of perfume, which the stall holder had wrapped in pale yellow tissue paper, then slipped it into his jacket pocket, before putting his arm around her shoulders.
“Let’s go and have a cup of tea before we head back to the TARDIS,” he suggested.
“Thanks.” She allowed him to take the heavier bags that she was carrying, and felt grateful for his arm around her shoulders as he led her out of the square and down a side street to another café. This one didn’t offer outdoor seating or a waiter service, but Martha was too tired to care either way: she just wanted to sit down.
“You sit down,” he said, gesturing to a table in the corner, “and I’ll get the tea.”
“Give me the bags, then,” she said. “Otherwise something will get bumped or crushed while you’re queuing.”
He smiled. “Good thinking.” He passed her the bags, then made his way to the counter while Martha settled into a chair. She wondered if she dared to take off her shoes and rub her feet, which were aching horribly, but she resisted the temptation in case she broke a cultural taboo. She really didn’t want to get thrown in prison or thrown off the planet.
The Doctor appeared with a tray of tea things, and she felt her spirits rising at the sight of the steam coming from the teapot.
“Here we are.” He set the tray down and handed her a plate with a large slice of rich dark chocolate cake on it, then busied himself with pouring their tea. “Okay?”
“Yeah. Just wishing I could take my shoes off and rub my aching feet,” she said quietly. “But I wasn’t sure if that sort of behaviour would be acceptable.”
“Hmm. I don’t know how the Strelens feel about that sort of thing, but if you can bear to wait until we get back to the TARDIS, I’ll give you a foot rub, if you like?”
”That would be heavenly,” Martha said enthusiastically. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Is that cake all right?”
She raised her eyebrows to her hairline. “Are you crazy? It’s gorgeous!”
“Good.”
* * * * * *
Half an hour later Martha let them into the TARDIS since the Doctor was carrying most of their bags, and she breathed a sigh of relief at the thought of sitting (or possibly lying) down and not moving for a while.
"I think I'm going to go and take a quick shower," she told the Doctor. "I feel a bit, I dunno, grubby."
"Okay. I'll move the TARDIS into the Vortex, and put away the things I bought. Half an hour long enough for you, and then I'll come and give you that foot rub?"
"Make it twenty minutes," she answered. "Or I might go to sleep beforehand."
"All right then."
She took from him the bags which held the gifts she'd bought for her parents and siblings, and started towards the archway that led into the ship's interior.
"Oh, Martha, don't forget this."
She turned and saw he was holding out the bottle of perfume. "Oh, thanks." She took the bottle and slipped it into one of the bags she carried.
Twenty minutes later the Doctor knocked on her bedroom door.
"Come in."
He stepped inside and Martha felt her breath catch in her throat for a moment: he'd taken off his suit jacket and undone a couple of his shirt buttons, and she realised that it was the most casual she'd ever seen him since his regeneration. Although this new incarnation tended not to wear a tie, he always wore a suit, just like the first Doctor she'd known, and it seemed odd to see him looking so informal. She was also acutely conscious of the fact that she was only wearing her pyjamas - not that he hadn't seen her in them lots of times before, but somehow it seemed more risqué this time.
"Comfy?" asked the Doctor, breaking into her rambling thoughts.
"Yeah." She was sitting on the bed with her back against the headboard, looking at one of the books that he'd bought for her in the market.
He sat on the end of her bed and lifted her right foot, cradling the ankle with his left hand. "I hope your feet aren't too ticklish," he said.
"No, they're not." She grinned at him. "It always annoyed Tish and Leo when we were kids."
He chuckled and began to massage her foot. "How's the book?" he asked, nodding at the 52nd century medical text she held.
"Fascinating," she answered. "Thank you for getting it for me."
"I know I can trust you not to leave it lying around somewhere conspicuous," he said.
"Mmm."
Glancing up, the Doctor saw Martha had her eyes closed and a look of bliss on her face as he worked at soothing her foot, and he felt stirred by the sight, wondering if that was how she would look after an orgasm.
He jerked her foot, shocked by the thought, and she opened her eyes and looked at him with a puzzled expression. "Sorry," he said quietly. "My mind was wandering for a moment."
"That's okay." She closed her eyes again and he fixed his attention firmly on her foot.
After a few minutes, though, he had to stop what he was doing and pull at the front of his shirt because he was feeling ridiculously warm.
Martha opened her eyes again. "Are you okay?" she asked, noticing he looked decidedly flushed, which was unusual for him.
"I dunno," he said. "I'm feeling a bit too warm and light-headed."
She dropped her book onto the bed and scrambled down it to where he was sitting, putting the back of her hand to his forehead, a look of alarm in her eyes. "You're sick," Martha said doubtfully.
"Oh!" he gasped.
"What?" she asked, even more alarmed by the way he was screwing his eyes shut. "Are you in pain?"
"Not - not as such," he stuttered.
"Then what? Oh!" She shifted backwards quickly, embarrassed because her glance had dropped downwards and she could see that he was aroused.
"I'm sorry, Martha, truly I am," he said, struggling off the bed. "I think it's your perfume. There must be something in it besides jasmine, although that in itself has aphrodisiac qualities, because I've never known it affect me before." He stood up.
"Why didn't it affect you in the market?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe it had to be in contact with your skin for it to work."
She watched as he stumbled across the room towards the door, then flailed at the handle, apparently unable to coordinate his hand sufficiently to take hold of it.
"Doctor!" she said, scared now, rather than embarrassed; she hurried across the room to help him.
"Please!" he gasped trying to move away from her. "You need to stay away from me, otherwise I'm not going to be able to restrain myself."
"Can't I do anything to help?" she asked, anguished by the pained expression he wore.
He choked back a desperate laugh. "Martha, there's only one thing that can help me, and I can't ask you to do that, not after the way I treated you before."
"You mean you need to have sex?"
He nodded. "Well, I need sexual release, yes." He winced. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be having this conversation with you; it's not fair. I'm not going to die or anything: it's just very, very painful."
"Oh." She stepped away from him after opening the door and let him move out into the corridor.
"I'm sorry, I'll have come back and finish your foot rub later." He set off down the corridor, his gait awkward, without waiting for her to respond.
Martha shut her bedroom door again, then crossed back to her bed and sat down, feeling a mixture of embarrassment that she'd inadvertently aroused him, disappointment that he apparently didn't want to have sex with her even though she'd been the cause of his arousal, and confusion because, up until now, she hadn't really acknowledged the fact that she still found the Doctor desirable.
She scowled at the floor, shook her head, then settled against the headboard again and picked up her discarded book.
* * * * * *
It was more than an hour before she saw the Doctor again. She'd wandered down to the kitchen for a bite to eat and as she was looking at the contents of the fridge, wondering what she fancied, he walked in.
He looked slightly embarrassed when he saw her and she quickly dropped her gaze, not wanting to make him feel worse. Her quick glance had shown that not only was his shirt buttoned up again, but he'd put his jacket back on, and she felt rebuffed somehow.
You're being stupid, she scolded herself. He made it clear he didn't want you, even when fully aroused. Just forget about it and be grateful for his friendship and affection.
"Do you want something to eat?" she asked.
"Not just now," he answered, his head in one of the cupboards above the kitchen counter. "Tea?"
"Yes, thanks." She decided to make herself a sandwich and took out ham and butter, then passed the milk over to the Doctor, before she closed the fridge and got out some bread.
"Do you want to watch a movie?" he asked as he made the tea.
"Okay."
He glanced over at her, surprised by her subdued tone. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." She finished making her sandwich and put everything away again. She remembered there were some Kettle chips in the cupboard and decided they'd go perfectly with her sandwich.
"Where are the Kettle chips?" she asked the Doctor when she saw there weren't any in the usual cupboard.
"Oh, I think we're out of those. I'll have to get some more."
"Typical," she muttered, banging the door shut again. She picked up her mug of tea, then headed back to her bedroom, leaving the Doctor feeling confused.
"The cinema's the other way," he said, although she couldn't hear him.
He picked up his mug and decided to go after Martha. He knocked briefly on her door, then went in without waiting for her permission, and found her sitting at her desk, the medical book that he'd bought for her open in front of her.
"What's the point of knocking if you're not going to wait for me to answer?" she asked, sounding distinctly grumpy.
"Sorry," he said meekly. He remained where he was, three paces inside the room. "Did you change your mind about watching a movie?"
"Yes," she answered shortly.
He cautiously moved closer. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing."
He stopped beside her desk, crouching down to look at her face and saw that there were unshed tears in her eyes. "I don't believe you," he told her softly. "I know you better than that, and I know very well that you don't get tearful over nothing." He put his mug on the corner of her desk, then leaned his shoulder against hers. "Please tell me what's wrong, Martha."
She jerked her shoulder away. "Nothing that you can do anything about," she answered, her eyes still fixed on the book in front of her. "Should you be getting this close to me?"
He gave her a sharp look as comprehension dawned. "Are you still mad at me about earlier?" he asked. "I'm sorry, Martha, but I honestly didn't know I was going to have that reaction to your perfume, or I wouldn't have bought it for you."
"Obviously not." She was stung by his comment, and only just stopped herself from making a comment about buying it for other people. She knew there was no point in saying anything and she really didn't want to have a row about it; in fact, she didn't even want to talk about it. She wondered whether she should just pour the wretched stuff away.
"I don't understand why you're so angry," he said, rather plaintively. "I'd have thought that as a doctor you'd understand better than most people about involuntary physiological reactions."
She turned and glared at him. "I do," she said brusquely. "I also understand that even when you were in dire need of sexual release you still didn't want me."
He gaped at her, obviously shocked. "It's not that I didn't want you," he said quickly. "I wasn't sure you would want me, and I certainly didn't want to force myself on you. If we were to have sex, I'd want it to be because we both wanted it, and we had both consented to it when in full control of all our faculties, not because some alien perfume had made me horny as hell."
She swallowed the lump in her throat, unsure how to respond and feeling more than a bit stupid now.
He reached out and covered her right hand with his as it lay on the desk. "Martha Jones, it may have escaped your attention, but I care about you very much and I don't want to hurt you again, like I did so often before when you were travelling with me. You deserve better than that."
"I understand," she whispered. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay." He tilted his head and looked at her. "Fancy seeing that movie after all?" he asked.
"Okay."
He squeezed her fingers, then dropped a kiss on her forehead as he got to his feet.
They took their tea and Martha's sandwich to the TARDIS' cinema and settled onto the big squashy sofa opposite the large flat screen TV.
"What do you fancy?" asked the Doctor, picking up the remote and pointing it at the screen where a menu of movie genres was immediately displayed.
"Don't mind," Martha answered, starting on her sandwich.
"Oh, Notting Hill. I don't think I've actually seen that."
She gave him a sideways look. "You watch romantic comedies?" she asked, a note of disbelief in her voice.
"Sometimes, yes. Is there something wrong with that?"
"No, nothing."
As they watched the film Martha found herself identifying a little with Hugh Grant’s character, William. She thought that Julia Roberts’ character, Anna, was probably every bit as alien to Will as the Doctor was to her: Anna’s fame and her concerns as an actress were a million miles away from William’s more ordinary life and everyday concerns about keeping his business afloat and living with a slob of a flatmate. Martha couldn’t help feeling slightly envious that William seemed to get his happy-ever-after, even though she personally didn’t believe in such things: her parents’ marriage had taught her that there wasn’t much chance of forever. But at the same time, she felt that even a few years of loving and being loved would be better than nothing.
“Better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all,” she muttered as the final credits began to scroll up the screen.
“Do you really believe that?” asked the Doctor. She looked up, startled by the intensity in his tone.
“Yes,” she answered simply.
“But you loved Tom and then lost him. How is that better than never having loved him? His death must have been painful. Don’t you wish you’d avoided that?”
She gave a short, humourless laugh. “Some days, I do. No one likes pain, unless they’re a masochist, but pain and loss are part of the human condition, and the only way to avoid it is to do absolutely nothing - and that’s not living, that’s just existing. This may sound pompous, but I believe that my experience of pain and loss make me a better doctor, because I can relate better to my patients than if I’d never suffered either - my experiences make me more empathic to their suffering.”
“What about - no, doesn’t matter.”
“What about what?” asked Martha curiously.
“What about unrequited love?”
She felt her face get hot. “That doesn’t exactly fall under ‘better to have loved and lost’,” she answered, her voice steadier than she’d believed it would be. “I’ve always understood the saying to apply to requited love, and I imagine most people would feel the same way.”
“So you don’t think unrequited love is a good thing?” persisted the Doctor.
”Not really. There’s a danger of it becoming self-destructive.” She got to her feet, picking up her empty mug and plate. ”Of course, love isn’t like water or electricity - something you can turn on and off at will.” She went out without looking at him again.
A few moments later, just as she was trying to decide whether to have another cup of tea or some hot chocolate instead, the Doctor entered the kitchen and set down his empty mug on the counter. She looked up, intending to ask if he wanted more tea, and found him standing much closer than she’d anticipated, which made her start in surprise.
”What would you say if I told you that I find you attractive and desirable?” he asked, his expression intent.
She blinked. “I’d ask you what you’d been inhaling,” she answered.
“What if I said I hadn’t inhaled, smoked, injected, or ingested anything?”
Martha frowned, opening her mouth to make a second flippant response, but the look in his blue eyes silenced her. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d say to that that isn’t a joke or sarcastic.”
He reached out and cupped her face in both hands and her mind automatically flashed back to that moment in the hospital corridor when his earlier incarnation had done the same thing. She swallowed convulsively, feeling ridiculously nervous as he dipped his head, then kissed her carefully on the mouth. As the kiss continued she felt a surge of emotions: amazement, disbelief, and desire, but it was the latter which overwhelmed her. His left hand moved from her face so he could wrap his arm around her, pulling her body flush against his, and she couldn’t help a whimper escaping as she felt his erection press against her.
The Doctor pulled back, his eyes full of desire as he looked down at her. “Martha Jones, you are very attractive and very desirable, and I want to make love to you.”
She bit her bottom lip. “I still find you very attractive,” she admitted. “But I don’t want to have sex with you if, afterwards, you’re going to pretend it never happened.”
He put both his hands on her shoulders and gazed steadily into her eyes. “I want you,” he said simply. “Ever since we visited the Eye of Orion so I could finish my regeneration I’ve wanted to share with you more of myself than I ever did before. But I should warn you that us becoming lovers will be different to you being Tom’s lover.”
“How will it be different? Do I have to undertake a ritual or something?” She felt nervous but curious at the same time.
The Doctor smiled. “No, no ritual. But you’ll become more than just my sexual partner. When someone enters into an intimate relationship with me, I make them an equal partner in my life - there are a lot of things that I will share with you that I would never dream of sharing with anyone else.”
She looked up at him, and he saw the question in her eyes that she couldn’t bring herself to voice, so he answered it anyway. “Rose didn’t get this. We had a very close relationship in many ways, but not in that way.”
“But - “ She stopped.
“You thought we did.” Martha nodded. “I know you did. It was wrong of my last incarnation to let you think that, and I apologise. There was no excuse for it; all I can do is ask you to forgive me. And if you feel that us becoming lovers isn’t what you want, then I’ll respect that. Just make sure you don’t wear your new perfume around me - unless you want to punish me.”
She laughed softly. “I wouldn’t be that cruel.”
He smiled. “I know. I just wanted to lighten the mood a little.” He ducked his head and kissed her gently. “So, what do you say Martha Jones?”
“Can I think about it first?” she asked tentatively.
“Of course. I don’t want you to get involved with me in this unless you’re sure it’s what you want. Now, how about I finish giving you that foot rub?”
“Yes please.”
They headed back to Martha’s room and settled onto her bed, and the Doctor picked up her foot again. He talked about Strelen as his fingers worked on loosening the muscles, and by the time he’d finished she was feeling very relaxed. As he put down her left foot she sat up and leaned forward to put her arms around him. He promptly returned her hug, and if he was surprised when she began to kiss him, he didn’t show it.
”I’ve decided,” she told him when she paused to catch her breath. “The answer is yes.” She didn’t give him a chance to respond before she began kissing him again, her tongue stroking across his lips until he opened his mouth. She immediately nibbled at his bottom lip before teasing his tongue with hers, sucking on the tip, then stroking it. He moaned into her mouth as he felt himself growing hard, his trousers beginning to feel uncomfortably tight.
Martha brushed her hand lightly over the hard bulge of his cock, then pushed at his shoulders. He fell backwards onto the bed, and she quickly tugged off his shoes and socks, then unfastened his trousers and pulled them down, eliciting a moan of relief from him as his erection was freed from the constraint of his clothes.
He watched, mesmerised, as she quickly slipped off her pyjama trousers and thong. She grabbed her shoulder bag and took out a condom, tearing the packet open with her teeth in her haste as her desire intensified at the sight of his arousal.
"Oh fuck! Oh Martha!" the Doctor gasped, clasping her hips as she sank down onto his sheathed cock and began to rock backwards and forwards.
After a few moments he reached up and unfastened her pyjama top, and she shrugged out of it, tossing it onto the floor on top of their trousers.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered as she reached down and unfastened his shirt buttons.
She blushed. "Thank you."
"Come here." He reached up for her, and she lay down, continuing to move, and she saw from his expression that he was already nearing his climax.
"Are you close?" he asked. She shook her head and he immediately slid a hand between their bodies until he found her clit.
"Oh! That feels good! Don't stop! Please!" She moved faster, and he wrapped his free arm around her to holding her steady.
"I'm going to come soon," he told her.
"So - so am I," she answered, feeling the warning tremors wracking her muscles.
"Come for me, Martha, please. I want you to come for me."
She looked deep into his piercing blue eyes as he touched her more firmly at the same time as thrusting deeper inside her, and she felt her orgasm shatter her composure. He cried out loudly, his cock spasming inside her, and she felt a second orgasm on top of the first.
"Okay?" she whispered after a little while.
"Yes, thank you." He pulled her head down and kissed her, tenderly. "Thank you very much Martha Jones."
"My pleasure," she murmured, suddenly sleepy.
He stroked a hand down her back. “Sleep, if you want to,” he said quietly. “We can talk later.”
She mumbled an indistinct reply, then shifted against him, and he smiled unseen as she made herself comfortable. Sleep wasn’t such a bad idea, he decided, especially sleeping with Martha.
Title: Pleasure
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Nighy!Eleven
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None (AU Post-S4)
Summary: Martha and the Doctor make some discoveries on an alien planet.
Disclaimer: I occasionally wish that I did own it!
Author Notes: The latest of my Whoniverse fics for 20_est_relships. The prompt was 03. Pleasure (Prompt table here and timeline here.) This story is set before the events of Past Times and Surprise took place.
Betas: the lovely fourzoas and catholicphoton
~~~~~~
Fic banner by mischief89
Martha had been travelling with the Doctor for about three weeks now, and she felt that they had settled into their renewed friendship fairly well. She was still getting to know this new incarnation’s quirks and habits, although some things she’d discovered quickly: that he preferred coffee to tea first thing in the morning; that he didn’t go in for manic babble, but he was happy to answer her questions and even, occasionally, volunteer personal information without being asked; and that he liked to hold her hand, especially if they were sightseeing somewhere. Like now: they were visiting a museum to scientific endeavour on the planet of Strelen, and as they wandered amongst the exhibits he held her hand, occasionally rubbing his thumb across her palm.
“Now then, Dr Jones, how do you fancy a spot of lunch, and afterwards we can explore the market?”
“Sounds good,” Martha said easily, allowing him to lead her out of the museum; they walked down the street until they reached a large café with an outdoor seating area.
“This looks nice,” she said, gesturing at the tables with their umbrellas overhead.
“Okay. So, what do you fancy?” They looked up at the menu board hanging in the window. “Something light or something filling?” He looked down into her eyes as she looked up, and Martha had the strangest sensation of sinking into a calm blue pool. She blinked twice, then looked back at the menu.
“Something light,” she answered. “Like a salad, or an omelette, or a baked potato - well, whatever the local equivalent is, please.”
“All right. Let’s ask the waiter and see what he recommends.”
They settled themselves at a table under a large oak-like tree, the branches giving them shade instead of a blue and green striped umbrella like the other tables had. After a few moments a young male humanoid approached them; the Strelens had pale green skin and bright orange hair, and on first seeing them Martha had been reminded irresistibly of carrots in reverse, although she was wise enough not to say so aloud for fear of causing offence.
The Doctor asked the waiter about salads, checking that nothing in it would be harmful to a human digestive system, then ordered two bowls and two glasses of iced fruit juice to go with them.
While they ate the Doctor asked Martha where she wanted to visit next, suggesting that she might find it interesting to visit someone from Earth’s past who had played a significant role in the development of medicine.
“It’s the one thing I always meant to do when you travelled with me the first time,” he said, “and we never managed it, to my shame.”
She reached across the corner of the table and covered his hand with hers, giving it a brief squeeze. “I’d like that,” she agreed. “Arthur Leared or James Simpson would be interesting.”
The Doctor quirked an eyebrow at her. “The inventor of the binaural stethoscope and the first man to use chloroform for anaesthetic. Not Louis Pasteur or Alexander Fleming, or even Florence Nightingale?”
Martha gave a shrug. “They’d be interesting too - but Simpson and Leared interest me more.” She smiled at him. “Or we could do a historical tour of major medical breakthroughs,” she suggested.
He laughed. “We could, at that.”
“You’d get bored before we were half done,” she said.
He looked hurt. “Why would I get bored? It would be as interesting to me as to you.”
“Sorry. I just - I wasn’t thinking.” She buried her face in her glass of fruit juice, embarrassed, because she’d been thinking of his previous incarnation when she’d said he’d find such a tour boring.
He seemed to sense some of what she was thinking because he reached out and took her hand, much as she’d taken his a short while ago, squeezing her fingers gently. “Martha Jones, let me assure you that whatever interests you will interest me. I want you to enjoy travelling with me this time around, and I certainly don’t want to see you end up working as a servant, or having to support me because we’re stuck somewhere without the TARDIS. And I definitely do not want you to have to spend a year walking the Earth, or anywhere else, in order to save it.” He let go of her hand and cupped her cheek with his hand. “As I told you when you agreed to travel with me again, things are going to be much different this time. I didn’t invite you to travel with me a second time just so I could repeat my mistakes from the first time.”
She nodded, biting her bottom lip because there was a wealth of emotion in his blue eyes that she wasn’t used to seeing when the Doctor looked at her, and it slightly unnerved her.
He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, then turned his attention to finishing his salad, and Martha blinked in surprise at his unexpected gesture. Then she gave herself a mental shake, telling herself not to read anything into what he did - she’d made that mistake before, and she, like the Doctor, was determined not to repeat the mistakes of the past.
“Do you want some dessert, or shall we go and look at the market?” he asked as he downed the last of his fruit juice.
“Let’s go and look at the market.”
“Okay.” He put a bank note of some kind down on the table, with a nod to the approaching waiter, then took Martha’s hand and led her further down the street until they reached a large square with official-looking buildings around the edges. The open space was packed with stalls with brightly coloured awnings, and dozens and dozens of people - most were Strelens, but some looked like humans.
“Wow!” Martha couldn’t help voicing her amazement at the sight: she’d never seen anything like this in her previous travels with the Doctor.
He smiled down at her and then swallowed hard as he realised just how beautiful she looked at the moment: the excitement, wonder and curiosity in her expression was almost mesmerising, and he had to force himself to look away before she caught him staring. This was one aspect of travelling with Martha again that he hadn't anticipated: he wanted more than her friendship, but he wasn't at all sure she would feel the same way.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yeah!” she answered, slightly breathless in anticipation of exploring the market; already she could see several stalls that she wanted to take a closer look at. “Oh!”
“What’s wrong?” asked the Doctor, alarmed by how her tone had changed from joy to sadness.
“I haven’t got any money that’s suitable.” She bit her lip, fighting back her disappointment.
“Silly girl,” he said, “They'll have a money changer here somewhere - there are a fair number of humans here, after all.” He put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed, then let go to grab her hand. "Come on, let's see if we can find them."
He looked around and then spotted a flag with a pile of coins depicted on it fluttering from a stall a few yards away. "Over there, look."
They headed over to the stall and the Doctor spoke to the burly man behind the counter for a few moments.
Five minutes later Martha had a large handful of banknotes and a smaller one of coins, at which she blinked in surprise. "Wow! That's a good rate of exchange."
The Doctor grinned as he handed her a wallet he'd pulled out of his jacket pocket. "Isn't it? Anything you don't spend, we'll change back before we go."
“Thanks.” She turned and stretched up to kiss his cheek, then turned to look at the market again, missing the expression of mingled surprise and need on the Doctor’s face.
He swallowed hard before trusting his voice to speak. “What do you want to look at first?” he asked.
“That stall over there,” she said, pointing to a large one that was piled high with clothing.
“Clothes. Why aren't I surprised?” he asked.
She swatted at his arm. "Cheeky. I want to get something native for mum and Tish."
He laughed, then grabbed the hand she'd swatted him with. "Come on then, Dr Jones, let's find something really exotic for the Jones women to wear."
They wandered the market for over an hour, sometimes just stopping to look and admire items, and sometimes buying things as well. Finally, just as Martha was beginning to tire, the Doctor wandered over to a stall selling perfumes.
“What do you think of this?” he asked, uncorking a pretty blue phial and holding the bottle out to her.
She leaned in and gave an experimental sniff. “Smells nice,” she answered, “makes me feel relaxed, somehow.”
“That’s the jasmine, ma’am,” the stall holder said. “We import that one from one of the human colonies a few light years away. It’s very popular with our human customers.”
“Would you like a bottle?” the Doctor asked.
Martha felt her face flush with embarrassment and pleasure. “Yes, please.” Somehow the gift of perfume seemed almost intimate: she still clearly remembered the one occasion Tom had given her perfume, back when she’d been dating him. It seemed like such a long time ago that he’d been killed while protecting children from the Daleks, although it was really only 18 months.
“Are you okay?” the Doctor asked gently, worried by her sad expression.
“Yeah, just remembering something,” she said. “And feeling a bit tired.”
He accepted the bottle of perfume, which the stall holder had wrapped in pale yellow tissue paper, then slipped it into his jacket pocket, before putting his arm around her shoulders.
“Let’s go and have a cup of tea before we head back to the TARDIS,” he suggested.
“Thanks.” She allowed him to take the heavier bags that she was carrying, and felt grateful for his arm around her shoulders as he led her out of the square and down a side street to another café. This one didn’t offer outdoor seating or a waiter service, but Martha was too tired to care either way: she just wanted to sit down.
“You sit down,” he said, gesturing to a table in the corner, “and I’ll get the tea.”
“Give me the bags, then,” she said. “Otherwise something will get bumped or crushed while you’re queuing.”
He smiled. “Good thinking.” He passed her the bags, then made his way to the counter while Martha settled into a chair. She wondered if she dared to take off her shoes and rub her feet, which were aching horribly, but she resisted the temptation in case she broke a cultural taboo. She really didn’t want to get thrown in prison or thrown off the planet.
The Doctor appeared with a tray of tea things, and she felt her spirits rising at the sight of the steam coming from the teapot.
“Here we are.” He set the tray down and handed her a plate with a large slice of rich dark chocolate cake on it, then busied himself with pouring their tea. “Okay?”
“Yeah. Just wishing I could take my shoes off and rub my aching feet,” she said quietly. “But I wasn’t sure if that sort of behaviour would be acceptable.”
“Hmm. I don’t know how the Strelens feel about that sort of thing, but if you can bear to wait until we get back to the TARDIS, I’ll give you a foot rub, if you like?”
”That would be heavenly,” Martha said enthusiastically. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Is that cake all right?”
She raised her eyebrows to her hairline. “Are you crazy? It’s gorgeous!”
“Good.”
* * * * * *
Half an hour later Martha let them into the TARDIS since the Doctor was carrying most of their bags, and she breathed a sigh of relief at the thought of sitting (or possibly lying) down and not moving for a while.
"I think I'm going to go and take a quick shower," she told the Doctor. "I feel a bit, I dunno, grubby."
"Okay. I'll move the TARDIS into the Vortex, and put away the things I bought. Half an hour long enough for you, and then I'll come and give you that foot rub?"
"Make it twenty minutes," she answered. "Or I might go to sleep beforehand."
"All right then."
She took from him the bags which held the gifts she'd bought for her parents and siblings, and started towards the archway that led into the ship's interior.
"Oh, Martha, don't forget this."
She turned and saw he was holding out the bottle of perfume. "Oh, thanks." She took the bottle and slipped it into one of the bags she carried.
Twenty minutes later the Doctor knocked on her bedroom door.
"Come in."
He stepped inside and Martha felt her breath catch in her throat for a moment: he'd taken off his suit jacket and undone a couple of his shirt buttons, and she realised that it was the most casual she'd ever seen him since his regeneration. Although this new incarnation tended not to wear a tie, he always wore a suit, just like the first Doctor she'd known, and it seemed odd to see him looking so informal. She was also acutely conscious of the fact that she was only wearing her pyjamas - not that he hadn't seen her in them lots of times before, but somehow it seemed more risqué this time.
"Comfy?" asked the Doctor, breaking into her rambling thoughts.
"Yeah." She was sitting on the bed with her back against the headboard, looking at one of the books that he'd bought for her in the market.
He sat on the end of her bed and lifted her right foot, cradling the ankle with his left hand. "I hope your feet aren't too ticklish," he said.
"No, they're not." She grinned at him. "It always annoyed Tish and Leo when we were kids."
He chuckled and began to massage her foot. "How's the book?" he asked, nodding at the 52nd century medical text she held.
"Fascinating," she answered. "Thank you for getting it for me."
"I know I can trust you not to leave it lying around somewhere conspicuous," he said.
"Mmm."
Glancing up, the Doctor saw Martha had her eyes closed and a look of bliss on her face as he worked at soothing her foot, and he felt stirred by the sight, wondering if that was how she would look after an orgasm.
He jerked her foot, shocked by the thought, and she opened her eyes and looked at him with a puzzled expression. "Sorry," he said quietly. "My mind was wandering for a moment."
"That's okay." She closed her eyes again and he fixed his attention firmly on her foot.
After a few minutes, though, he had to stop what he was doing and pull at the front of his shirt because he was feeling ridiculously warm.
Martha opened her eyes again. "Are you okay?" she asked, noticing he looked decidedly flushed, which was unusual for him.
"I dunno," he said. "I'm feeling a bit too warm and light-headed."
She dropped her book onto the bed and scrambled down it to where he was sitting, putting the back of her hand to his forehead, a look of alarm in her eyes. "You're sick," Martha said doubtfully.
"Oh!" he gasped.
"What?" she asked, even more alarmed by the way he was screwing his eyes shut. "Are you in pain?"
"Not - not as such," he stuttered.
"Then what? Oh!" She shifted backwards quickly, embarrassed because her glance had dropped downwards and she could see that he was aroused.
"I'm sorry, Martha, truly I am," he said, struggling off the bed. "I think it's your perfume. There must be something in it besides jasmine, although that in itself has aphrodisiac qualities, because I've never known it affect me before." He stood up.
"Why didn't it affect you in the market?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe it had to be in contact with your skin for it to work."
She watched as he stumbled across the room towards the door, then flailed at the handle, apparently unable to coordinate his hand sufficiently to take hold of it.
"Doctor!" she said, scared now, rather than embarrassed; she hurried across the room to help him.
"Please!" he gasped trying to move away from her. "You need to stay away from me, otherwise I'm not going to be able to restrain myself."
"Can't I do anything to help?" she asked, anguished by the pained expression he wore.
He choked back a desperate laugh. "Martha, there's only one thing that can help me, and I can't ask you to do that, not after the way I treated you before."
"You mean you need to have sex?"
He nodded. "Well, I need sexual release, yes." He winced. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be having this conversation with you; it's not fair. I'm not going to die or anything: it's just very, very painful."
"Oh." She stepped away from him after opening the door and let him move out into the corridor.
"I'm sorry, I'll have come back and finish your foot rub later." He set off down the corridor, his gait awkward, without waiting for her to respond.
Martha shut her bedroom door again, then crossed back to her bed and sat down, feeling a mixture of embarrassment that she'd inadvertently aroused him, disappointment that he apparently didn't want to have sex with her even though she'd been the cause of his arousal, and confusion because, up until now, she hadn't really acknowledged the fact that she still found the Doctor desirable.
She scowled at the floor, shook her head, then settled against the headboard again and picked up her discarded book.
* * * * * *
It was more than an hour before she saw the Doctor again. She'd wandered down to the kitchen for a bite to eat and as she was looking at the contents of the fridge, wondering what she fancied, he walked in.
He looked slightly embarrassed when he saw her and she quickly dropped her gaze, not wanting to make him feel worse. Her quick glance had shown that not only was his shirt buttoned up again, but he'd put his jacket back on, and she felt rebuffed somehow.
You're being stupid, she scolded herself. He made it clear he didn't want you, even when fully aroused. Just forget about it and be grateful for his friendship and affection.
"Do you want something to eat?" she asked.
"Not just now," he answered, his head in one of the cupboards above the kitchen counter. "Tea?"
"Yes, thanks." She decided to make herself a sandwich and took out ham and butter, then passed the milk over to the Doctor, before she closed the fridge and got out some bread.
"Do you want to watch a movie?" he asked as he made the tea.
"Okay."
He glanced over at her, surprised by her subdued tone. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." She finished making her sandwich and put everything away again. She remembered there were some Kettle chips in the cupboard and decided they'd go perfectly with her sandwich.
"Where are the Kettle chips?" she asked the Doctor when she saw there weren't any in the usual cupboard.
"Oh, I think we're out of those. I'll have to get some more."
"Typical," she muttered, banging the door shut again. She picked up her mug of tea, then headed back to her bedroom, leaving the Doctor feeling confused.
"The cinema's the other way," he said, although she couldn't hear him.
He picked up his mug and decided to go after Martha. He knocked briefly on her door, then went in without waiting for her permission, and found her sitting at her desk, the medical book that he'd bought for her open in front of her.
"What's the point of knocking if you're not going to wait for me to answer?" she asked, sounding distinctly grumpy.
"Sorry," he said meekly. He remained where he was, three paces inside the room. "Did you change your mind about watching a movie?"
"Yes," she answered shortly.
He cautiously moved closer. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing."
He stopped beside her desk, crouching down to look at her face and saw that there were unshed tears in her eyes. "I don't believe you," he told her softly. "I know you better than that, and I know very well that you don't get tearful over nothing." He put his mug on the corner of her desk, then leaned his shoulder against hers. "Please tell me what's wrong, Martha."
She jerked her shoulder away. "Nothing that you can do anything about," she answered, her eyes still fixed on the book in front of her. "Should you be getting this close to me?"
He gave her a sharp look as comprehension dawned. "Are you still mad at me about earlier?" he asked. "I'm sorry, Martha, but I honestly didn't know I was going to have that reaction to your perfume, or I wouldn't have bought it for you."
"Obviously not." She was stung by his comment, and only just stopped herself from making a comment about buying it for other people. She knew there was no point in saying anything and she really didn't want to have a row about it; in fact, she didn't even want to talk about it. She wondered whether she should just pour the wretched stuff away.
"I don't understand why you're so angry," he said, rather plaintively. "I'd have thought that as a doctor you'd understand better than most people about involuntary physiological reactions."
She turned and glared at him. "I do," she said brusquely. "I also understand that even when you were in dire need of sexual release you still didn't want me."
He gaped at her, obviously shocked. "It's not that I didn't want you," he said quickly. "I wasn't sure you would want me, and I certainly didn't want to force myself on you. If we were to have sex, I'd want it to be because we both wanted it, and we had both consented to it when in full control of all our faculties, not because some alien perfume had made me horny as hell."
She swallowed the lump in her throat, unsure how to respond and feeling more than a bit stupid now.
He reached out and covered her right hand with his as it lay on the desk. "Martha Jones, it may have escaped your attention, but I care about you very much and I don't want to hurt you again, like I did so often before when you were travelling with me. You deserve better than that."
"I understand," she whispered. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay." He tilted his head and looked at her. "Fancy seeing that movie after all?" he asked.
"Okay."
He squeezed her fingers, then dropped a kiss on her forehead as he got to his feet.
They took their tea and Martha's sandwich to the TARDIS' cinema and settled onto the big squashy sofa opposite the large flat screen TV.
"What do you fancy?" asked the Doctor, picking up the remote and pointing it at the screen where a menu of movie genres was immediately displayed.
"Don't mind," Martha answered, starting on her sandwich.
"Oh, Notting Hill. I don't think I've actually seen that."
She gave him a sideways look. "You watch romantic comedies?" she asked, a note of disbelief in her voice.
"Sometimes, yes. Is there something wrong with that?"
"No, nothing."
As they watched the film Martha found herself identifying a little with Hugh Grant’s character, William. She thought that Julia Roberts’ character, Anna, was probably every bit as alien to Will as the Doctor was to her: Anna’s fame and her concerns as an actress were a million miles away from William’s more ordinary life and everyday concerns about keeping his business afloat and living with a slob of a flatmate. Martha couldn’t help feeling slightly envious that William seemed to get his happy-ever-after, even though she personally didn’t believe in such things: her parents’ marriage had taught her that there wasn’t much chance of forever. But at the same time, she felt that even a few years of loving and being loved would be better than nothing.
“Better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all,” she muttered as the final credits began to scroll up the screen.
“Do you really believe that?” asked the Doctor. She looked up, startled by the intensity in his tone.
“Yes,” she answered simply.
“But you loved Tom and then lost him. How is that better than never having loved him? His death must have been painful. Don’t you wish you’d avoided that?”
She gave a short, humourless laugh. “Some days, I do. No one likes pain, unless they’re a masochist, but pain and loss are part of the human condition, and the only way to avoid it is to do absolutely nothing - and that’s not living, that’s just existing. This may sound pompous, but I believe that my experience of pain and loss make me a better doctor, because I can relate better to my patients than if I’d never suffered either - my experiences make me more empathic to their suffering.”
“What about - no, doesn’t matter.”
“What about what?” asked Martha curiously.
“What about unrequited love?”
She felt her face get hot. “That doesn’t exactly fall under ‘better to have loved and lost’,” she answered, her voice steadier than she’d believed it would be. “I’ve always understood the saying to apply to requited love, and I imagine most people would feel the same way.”
“So you don’t think unrequited love is a good thing?” persisted the Doctor.
”Not really. There’s a danger of it becoming self-destructive.” She got to her feet, picking up her empty mug and plate. ”Of course, love isn’t like water or electricity - something you can turn on and off at will.” She went out without looking at him again.
A few moments later, just as she was trying to decide whether to have another cup of tea or some hot chocolate instead, the Doctor entered the kitchen and set down his empty mug on the counter. She looked up, intending to ask if he wanted more tea, and found him standing much closer than she’d anticipated, which made her start in surprise.
”What would you say if I told you that I find you attractive and desirable?” he asked, his expression intent.
She blinked. “I’d ask you what you’d been inhaling,” she answered.
“What if I said I hadn’t inhaled, smoked, injected, or ingested anything?”
Martha frowned, opening her mouth to make a second flippant response, but the look in his blue eyes silenced her. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d say to that that isn’t a joke or sarcastic.”
He reached out and cupped her face in both hands and her mind automatically flashed back to that moment in the hospital corridor when his earlier incarnation had done the same thing. She swallowed convulsively, feeling ridiculously nervous as he dipped his head, then kissed her carefully on the mouth. As the kiss continued she felt a surge of emotions: amazement, disbelief, and desire, but it was the latter which overwhelmed her. His left hand moved from her face so he could wrap his arm around her, pulling her body flush against his, and she couldn’t help a whimper escaping as she felt his erection press against her.
The Doctor pulled back, his eyes full of desire as he looked down at her. “Martha Jones, you are very attractive and very desirable, and I want to make love to you.”
She bit her bottom lip. “I still find you very attractive,” she admitted. “But I don’t want to have sex with you if, afterwards, you’re going to pretend it never happened.”
He put both his hands on her shoulders and gazed steadily into her eyes. “I want you,” he said simply. “Ever since we visited the Eye of Orion so I could finish my regeneration I’ve wanted to share with you more of myself than I ever did before. But I should warn you that us becoming lovers will be different to you being Tom’s lover.”
“How will it be different? Do I have to undertake a ritual or something?” She felt nervous but curious at the same time.
The Doctor smiled. “No, no ritual. But you’ll become more than just my sexual partner. When someone enters into an intimate relationship with me, I make them an equal partner in my life - there are a lot of things that I will share with you that I would never dream of sharing with anyone else.”
She looked up at him, and he saw the question in her eyes that she couldn’t bring herself to voice, so he answered it anyway. “Rose didn’t get this. We had a very close relationship in many ways, but not in that way.”
“But - “ She stopped.
“You thought we did.” Martha nodded. “I know you did. It was wrong of my last incarnation to let you think that, and I apologise. There was no excuse for it; all I can do is ask you to forgive me. And if you feel that us becoming lovers isn’t what you want, then I’ll respect that. Just make sure you don’t wear your new perfume around me - unless you want to punish me.”
She laughed softly. “I wouldn’t be that cruel.”
He smiled. “I know. I just wanted to lighten the mood a little.” He ducked his head and kissed her gently. “So, what do you say Martha Jones?”
“Can I think about it first?” she asked tentatively.
“Of course. I don’t want you to get involved with me in this unless you’re sure it’s what you want. Now, how about I finish giving you that foot rub?”
“Yes please.”
They headed back to Martha’s room and settled onto her bed, and the Doctor picked up her foot again. He talked about Strelen as his fingers worked on loosening the muscles, and by the time he’d finished she was feeling very relaxed. As he put down her left foot she sat up and leaned forward to put her arms around him. He promptly returned her hug, and if he was surprised when she began to kiss him, he didn’t show it.
”I’ve decided,” she told him when she paused to catch her breath. “The answer is yes.” She didn’t give him a chance to respond before she began kissing him again, her tongue stroking across his lips until he opened his mouth. She immediately nibbled at his bottom lip before teasing his tongue with hers, sucking on the tip, then stroking it. He moaned into her mouth as he felt himself growing hard, his trousers beginning to feel uncomfortably tight.
Martha brushed her hand lightly over the hard bulge of his cock, then pushed at his shoulders. He fell backwards onto the bed, and she quickly tugged off his shoes and socks, then unfastened his trousers and pulled them down, eliciting a moan of relief from him as his erection was freed from the constraint of his clothes.
He watched, mesmerised, as she quickly slipped off her pyjama trousers and thong. She grabbed her shoulder bag and took out a condom, tearing the packet open with her teeth in her haste as her desire intensified at the sight of his arousal.
"Oh fuck! Oh Martha!" the Doctor gasped, clasping her hips as she sank down onto his sheathed cock and began to rock backwards and forwards.
After a few moments he reached up and unfastened her pyjama top, and she shrugged out of it, tossing it onto the floor on top of their trousers.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered as she reached down and unfastened his shirt buttons.
She blushed. "Thank you."
"Come here." He reached up for her, and she lay down, continuing to move, and she saw from his expression that he was already nearing his climax.
"Are you close?" he asked. She shook her head and he immediately slid a hand between their bodies until he found her clit.
"Oh! That feels good! Don't stop! Please!" She moved faster, and he wrapped his free arm around her to holding her steady.
"I'm going to come soon," he told her.
"So - so am I," she answered, feeling the warning tremors wracking her muscles.
"Come for me, Martha, please. I want you to come for me."
She looked deep into his piercing blue eyes as he touched her more firmly at the same time as thrusting deeper inside her, and she felt her orgasm shatter her composure. He cried out loudly, his cock spasming inside her, and she felt a second orgasm on top of the first.
"Okay?" she whispered after a little while.
"Yes, thank you." He pulled her head down and kissed her, tenderly. "Thank you very much Martha Jones."
"My pleasure," she murmured, suddenly sleepy.
He stroked a hand down her back. “Sleep, if you want to,” he said quietly. “We can talk later.”
She mumbled an indistinct reply, then shifted against him, and he smiled unseen as she made herself comfortable. Sleep wasn’t such a bad idea, he decided, especially sleeping with Martha.