A Close Shave
Title: A Close Shave
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Martha, mentions of Donna and Jack
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Summary: The Doctor and Martha have a very close shave.
Disclaimer: The BBC owns "Doctor Who" and the Doctor owns me…
Author Notes: londonbeauty001 offered the prompt "Martha helping the Doctor shave when he injures his arm" for the lifeonmartha 1000 Drabbles of Awesome Tag game and um, it ran away from me!
~~~~~~
Martha was passing the Doctor's room when she heard a stream of Gallifreyan words and knew that he was cursing: the TARDIS, to Martha's immense amusement, never translated when he swore.
She knocked and heard a peevish invitation to enter; pushing open his door, she found him sitting on his bed with a bowl between his knees and an old fashioned cut throat razor in his left hand. His pyjama top was liberally splashed with blobs of shaving foam and the bulge of his right arm in its sling was clearly visible inside the top.
He gave her a beseeching look, the effectiveness of which was marred by his face being covered in shaving foam. "Please can I take my arm out of the sling now," he begged.
"No you can't," she answered sternly. "I told you 48 hours rest and it's only been 8. I know you heal fast, but dislocating your shoulder twice in one day *and* breaking your elbow - " She shook her head. "48 hours is the bare minimum I can recommend."
Now nearly 30, Martha Jones was an accomplished physician and surgeon, as well as an acknowledged expert in Xeno-medical procedures. She was still slender, graceful and full of a burning curiosity about the Universe. She was also a force to be reckoned with and the Doctor knew better than to argue with her on medical matters, but he couldn't help pleading with her a little.
"Please Martha, just long enough to shave?"
She gave him The Look and in his head it had capital letters: it was a combination of 'stern mother' (learnt from Francine Jones) and 'Commander of an elite UNIT squad'. It was not a look with which one argued as many people, human and alien, had discovered to their discomfort.
He sighed and laid aside the razor, then reached for the towel lying beside him. "I guess I'll have to use one of those electric things," he said, investing the last two words with loathing.
She smothered a smile. "Let me do it." He raised an eyebrow. "Do you think I can't?" she demanded, seeing the eyebrow as a challenge.
He hastily denied any doubts. "I'm sure you're quite capable," he said.
"Good." She kicked off her shoes and climbed up on the bed behind him, then picked up the razor. "Eyes front," she instructed as she knelt behind him.
He turned his head and fixed his gaze on the mirror above his chest of drawers. Martha leant against his back, reaching both arms over his shoulders to take his chin in her left hand, whilst she deftly wielded the razor in her right.
The Doctor was suddenly very aware of both their bodies, and in particular the fact that Martha's breasts were pressed against his back with only his thin pyjama top and her equally thin vest top and bra separating their skin. He found himself wondering what it would feel like without their clothes in the way and abruptly realised that this wasn't a good train of thought to pursue. He and Martha had developed a strong trusting and affectionate relationship in the three years since she'd rejoined him on the TARDIS. Rassilon, was it really three years? He counted it up and realised it was.
They'd worked together twice on Earth after she'd stopped travelling with him the first time, but she had joined UNIT and met a nice young man, so when he'd invited her to travel with him again, Martha had refused. He and Donna had gone to her wedding and although he'd been jealous of Mark, he'd sincerely wished them all the best. But three and a half years ago, Mark had been killed in a road accident and as a result Martha had miscarried their baby. The Doctor had spent six months on Earth after that, working for UNIT and helping out Torchwood whenever Jack had asked, all so that he could be there for Martha. He couldn't leave her to deal with that, even if she did have her family and friends around.
Donna had met a nice man of her own whilst they were back on Earth: a man who hated coffee and was terrified of spiders. He had taken Martha to Donna's wedding at Martha's request, but half an hour into the reception, he'd come back from the loo and found Martha sobbing in a corner, so he'd taken her back to the TARDIS, tucking her up in his bed to cry herself to sleep. He remembered sitting beside her all night, holding her hand and soothing her nightmares with the TARDIS' help. The following morning she'd asked him if she could travel with him again and he'd gladly agreed.
In the following three years Jack had joined them on several occasions: he'd book a three week holiday and leave Tosh in charge of his team, whilst he went off with Martha and the Doctor. The Time Lord suspected that his two Companions had become lovers, but he'd never tried to confirm that impression. He wanted Martha to be happy and he thought Jack could make her happy, but Jack always went back to his team and Martha never seemed to pine over his absences.
For his own part, the Doctor knew he loved Martha Jones with both his hearts: he always had, but he'd only recently dared to admit it to himself. It had seemed easier and safer to tell himself and everyone else that they were just friends, a phrase which now seemed perfectly stupid: friends could be lovers as well.
"There you are." Martha's quietly pleased voice broke in on his reverie and he realised with a start that she'd finished shaving him without him even noticing.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome." She climbed off the bed, then moved his shaving things out of the way before going back to stand in front of him. "Let's get you into some clothes." Her manner was brisk and professional as she began unbuttoning his top, but she squeaked in surprise when he slid his free arm around her waist and pulled her close until she was standing between his knees.
"Doctor?" Her eyes were wide with surprise and her breath coming slightly faster he noticed as he reached up to cup her cheek with his long fingers.
"Doctor Martha Jones, do you know what today is?" She shook her head, puzzled. "Today is the third anniversary of you rejoining me as my Companion." He pulled her head down. "I think we should celebrate." He kissed her gently.
Martha was astonished: firstly that he even knew it was her 'anniversary', she certainly hadn't kept track; and secondly because she'd long since given up any expectation of them ever being more than good friends. But her surprise didn't stop her from responding to his kiss and when he swiped his tongue across her lips, she gladly opened her mouth and accepted him deepening the kiss. She wrapped her arms around him, leaning into his body and eliciting a small growl as the Doctor felt her taut nipples pressing against his chest.
Finally he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. "Martha Jones, will you allow me to make love to you?" he asked, his voice husky with desire.
"Why now?" she asked.
"Because I want you and I hope you want me too." He pulled back to look into her face. "But if it's too soon - " He broke off as she shook her head.
"It's not," she assured him. She began to kiss him again as her fingers began to work on his buttons. She pulled away to give him a mischievous grin.
"What?" he asked.
She tapped his arm gently. "This means I'll have to be in charge," she said with a breathy laugh.
"Commander Jones," he growled, feeling himself growing harder at the thought of Martha giving him 'orders' in bed.
She pushed him backwards to lie on the bed. "I always suspected you were a kinky one," she commented as she began easing his pyjamas down his long slender legs.
"Oh and you're not?" he asked as he felt her lips brushing against his erection.
"Tell me afterwards," she answered as she climbed up on the bed and straddled him.
"OK," he gasped. His gasps soon became moans, in which she joined him as they moved together.
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Martha, mentions of Donna and Jack
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Summary: The Doctor and Martha have a very close shave.
Disclaimer: The BBC owns "Doctor Who" and the Doctor owns me…
Author Notes: londonbeauty001 offered the prompt "Martha helping the Doctor shave when he injures his arm" for the lifeonmartha 1000 Drabbles of Awesome Tag game and um, it ran away from me!
~~~~~~
Martha was passing the Doctor's room when she heard a stream of Gallifreyan words and knew that he was cursing: the TARDIS, to Martha's immense amusement, never translated when he swore.
She knocked and heard a peevish invitation to enter; pushing open his door, she found him sitting on his bed with a bowl between his knees and an old fashioned cut throat razor in his left hand. His pyjama top was liberally splashed with blobs of shaving foam and the bulge of his right arm in its sling was clearly visible inside the top.
He gave her a beseeching look, the effectiveness of which was marred by his face being covered in shaving foam. "Please can I take my arm out of the sling now," he begged.
"No you can't," she answered sternly. "I told you 48 hours rest and it's only been 8. I know you heal fast, but dislocating your shoulder twice in one day *and* breaking your elbow - " She shook her head. "48 hours is the bare minimum I can recommend."
Now nearly 30, Martha Jones was an accomplished physician and surgeon, as well as an acknowledged expert in Xeno-medical procedures. She was still slender, graceful and full of a burning curiosity about the Universe. She was also a force to be reckoned with and the Doctor knew better than to argue with her on medical matters, but he couldn't help pleading with her a little.
"Please Martha, just long enough to shave?"
She gave him The Look and in his head it had capital letters: it was a combination of 'stern mother' (learnt from Francine Jones) and 'Commander of an elite UNIT squad'. It was not a look with which one argued as many people, human and alien, had discovered to their discomfort.
He sighed and laid aside the razor, then reached for the towel lying beside him. "I guess I'll have to use one of those electric things," he said, investing the last two words with loathing.
She smothered a smile. "Let me do it." He raised an eyebrow. "Do you think I can't?" she demanded, seeing the eyebrow as a challenge.
He hastily denied any doubts. "I'm sure you're quite capable," he said.
"Good." She kicked off her shoes and climbed up on the bed behind him, then picked up the razor. "Eyes front," she instructed as she knelt behind him.
He turned his head and fixed his gaze on the mirror above his chest of drawers. Martha leant against his back, reaching both arms over his shoulders to take his chin in her left hand, whilst she deftly wielded the razor in her right.
The Doctor was suddenly very aware of both their bodies, and in particular the fact that Martha's breasts were pressed against his back with only his thin pyjama top and her equally thin vest top and bra separating their skin. He found himself wondering what it would feel like without their clothes in the way and abruptly realised that this wasn't a good train of thought to pursue. He and Martha had developed a strong trusting and affectionate relationship in the three years since she'd rejoined him on the TARDIS. Rassilon, was it really three years? He counted it up and realised it was.
They'd worked together twice on Earth after she'd stopped travelling with him the first time, but she had joined UNIT and met a nice young man, so when he'd invited her to travel with him again, Martha had refused. He and Donna had gone to her wedding and although he'd been jealous of Mark, he'd sincerely wished them all the best. But three and a half years ago, Mark had been killed in a road accident and as a result Martha had miscarried their baby. The Doctor had spent six months on Earth after that, working for UNIT and helping out Torchwood whenever Jack had asked, all so that he could be there for Martha. He couldn't leave her to deal with that, even if she did have her family and friends around.
Donna had met a nice man of her own whilst they were back on Earth: a man who hated coffee and was terrified of spiders. He had taken Martha to Donna's wedding at Martha's request, but half an hour into the reception, he'd come back from the loo and found Martha sobbing in a corner, so he'd taken her back to the TARDIS, tucking her up in his bed to cry herself to sleep. He remembered sitting beside her all night, holding her hand and soothing her nightmares with the TARDIS' help. The following morning she'd asked him if she could travel with him again and he'd gladly agreed.
In the following three years Jack had joined them on several occasions: he'd book a three week holiday and leave Tosh in charge of his team, whilst he went off with Martha and the Doctor. The Time Lord suspected that his two Companions had become lovers, but he'd never tried to confirm that impression. He wanted Martha to be happy and he thought Jack could make her happy, but Jack always went back to his team and Martha never seemed to pine over his absences.
For his own part, the Doctor knew he loved Martha Jones with both his hearts: he always had, but he'd only recently dared to admit it to himself. It had seemed easier and safer to tell himself and everyone else that they were just friends, a phrase which now seemed perfectly stupid: friends could be lovers as well.
"There you are." Martha's quietly pleased voice broke in on his reverie and he realised with a start that she'd finished shaving him without him even noticing.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome." She climbed off the bed, then moved his shaving things out of the way before going back to stand in front of him. "Let's get you into some clothes." Her manner was brisk and professional as she began unbuttoning his top, but she squeaked in surprise when he slid his free arm around her waist and pulled her close until she was standing between his knees.
"Doctor?" Her eyes were wide with surprise and her breath coming slightly faster he noticed as he reached up to cup her cheek with his long fingers.
"Doctor Martha Jones, do you know what today is?" She shook her head, puzzled. "Today is the third anniversary of you rejoining me as my Companion." He pulled her head down. "I think we should celebrate." He kissed her gently.
Martha was astonished: firstly that he even knew it was her 'anniversary', she certainly hadn't kept track; and secondly because she'd long since given up any expectation of them ever being more than good friends. But her surprise didn't stop her from responding to his kiss and when he swiped his tongue across her lips, she gladly opened her mouth and accepted him deepening the kiss. She wrapped her arms around him, leaning into his body and eliciting a small growl as the Doctor felt her taut nipples pressing against his chest.
Finally he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. "Martha Jones, will you allow me to make love to you?" he asked, his voice husky with desire.
"Why now?" she asked.
"Because I want you and I hope you want me too." He pulled back to look into her face. "But if it's too soon - " He broke off as she shook her head.
"It's not," she assured him. She began to kiss him again as her fingers began to work on his buttons. She pulled away to give him a mischievous grin.
"What?" he asked.
She tapped his arm gently. "This means I'll have to be in charge," she said with a breathy laugh.
"Commander Jones," he growled, feeling himself growing harder at the thought of Martha giving him 'orders' in bed.
She pushed him backwards to lie on the bed. "I always suspected you were a kinky one," she commented as she began easing his pyjamas down his long slender legs.
"Oh and you're not?" he asked as he felt her lips brushing against his erection.
"Tell me afterwards," she answered as she climbed up on the bed and straddled him.
"OK," he gasped. His gasps soon became moans, in which she joined him as they moved together.