fic
Title: Obsession
Rating: R
Pairing: Three/Sarah
Smmary: Random smutty ficlet. I wrote this a year ago and I don't think I posted it, since I kept meaning to turn it into a full-blown fic. Suggestions of exactly what Sarah should do next will be gratefully appreciated ;)
He'd given her the jacket after her shirt got ripped, and they'd wandered back to the Tardis as she'd shivered from the cold and the way the lining of the jacket felt against her bare skin. She'd flashed him a cheeky grin, and said "I'm keeping it." He'd looked slightly affronted at that, but he'd been a gentleman about it and she'd only teased him a little. Alone in her room, she rubbed her cheek against the velvet and tried not to feel self-conscious. It smelt of him - all musky and spicy and alien - and she felt her heart begin to pound. She'd wriggled out of her torn, mud-splattered jeans and taken off the bra that hadn't fared much better than her shirt, and she was painfully aware that she was sitting on her bed wearing only her increasingly damp knickers, clutching the Doctor's jacket as her mind began to whirl. It had been a whim, nothing more. The jacket, and the man usually inside it, had begun to invade her fantasies a few weeks ago. She sighed, and stood up. She was going to get the Doctor out of her system once and for all - by any means necessary.
Rating: R
Pairing: Three/Sarah
Smmary: Random smutty ficlet. I wrote this a year ago and I don't think I posted it, since I kept meaning to turn it into a full-blown fic. Suggestions of exactly what Sarah should do next will be gratefully appreciated ;)
He'd given her the jacket after her shirt got ripped, and they'd wandered back to the Tardis as she'd shivered from the cold and the way the lining of the jacket felt against her bare skin. She'd flashed him a cheeky grin, and said "I'm keeping it." He'd looked slightly affronted at that, but he'd been a gentleman about it and she'd only teased him a little. Alone in her room, she rubbed her cheek against the velvet and tried not to feel self-conscious. It smelt of him - all musky and spicy and alien - and she felt her heart begin to pound. She'd wriggled out of her torn, mud-splattered jeans and taken off the bra that hadn't fared much better than her shirt, and she was painfully aware that she was sitting on her bed wearing only her increasingly damp knickers, clutching the Doctor's jacket as her mind began to whirl. It had been a whim, nothing more. The jacket, and the man usually inside it, had begun to invade her fantasies a few weeks ago. She sighed, and stood up. She was going to get the Doctor out of her system once and for all - by any means necessary.