Fic: She Makes You Take Your Clothes Off
Back again, with a new fic to please those addicted to 10/Martha smut - hope this helps...yes, I'm talking to the people who seem to make every thread on smith_n_jones smutty. Not that I really tend to complain, you understand.
Anyway, here it is.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Title: She Makes You Take Your Clothes Off
Pairing: Ten/Martha
Spoilers: Not as far as I can tell
Rating: Some sex. Sort of the majority of the fic, really. *blushes*
Summary: Martha, Ten, sex. A little dancing. That's it, really.
A/N: Not quite as raunchy as the title makes it seem, but there's not loads of plot either. Beta'd by the lovely (and v. fast!) ionlylurkhere - Thanks again! Also, the first dip of my toe in the murky waters of smut, so it may not be expert stuff, for which I apologise.
She’ll Make You Take Your Clothes Off
He was fairly sure there was nothing as undignified as a naked Time Lord prancing around in the rain. It was demeaning, confusing, and more than a little cold, but, as usual, there had been a very good reason for it. Impeccable reasoning, in fact. Martha had told him to.
Oh, he could conjure up all kinds of lies…or ideas…yes, ideas, as to why… :
she’d needed a diversion while she released the prisoners; it had been necessary to make it rain, according to a tribe’s mythology; she’d promised a very wealthy businessman he could see it if he let her go…etc. Unfortunately, none of these were true. Nope, instead he was making a complete and utter pillock of himself because he’d done something incredibly stupid. He’d agreed to play Truth or Dare with Martha Jones. Looking back (it was only half an hour ago), it had been a monumentally silly thing to do. OK, so she’d agreed he could go to a deserted planet, and only had to dance for five minutes (bartered down from ten!), but still.
Undignified.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
After his five minutes were up, she let him back inside, handing him a towel she’d collected before he’d started - he supposed she was trying to prove she wasn’t overly cruel. However, she clearly found it difficult to stop laughing, and if he wasn’t mistaken she’d been quickly putting her mobile back in her pocket when he’d walked in. She’d better not have done what he thought she’d done. He’d have to confiscate the damn thing if she had.
Mind you, it was his own fault really. He should have known better than to play if he didn’t want to take off his clothes. He may not be human, but he knew a lot of the customs. Everyone knew stripping was the real point of most Truth or Dare games anyway.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He wrapped the towel more firmly around him, glaring at her across the console. He set the controls back to the Vortex, and watched as she giggled, still trying to hide it, but failing miserably. The temperature was several degrees higher in the TARDIS, and the Doctor was warming up fast, but he was still a little chilly.
He carried on fiddling with the levers, but watching his hands slide off them due to the residual water was just too much for Martha. She burst out laughing at his attempts, and he pouted at her.
“You know, I’m going to start getting offended in a minute. Laughing at dancing is all very well and good, but if you’re laughing at me naked, I could be extremely offended.”
This just set her off again, and even though he was acting irritably, the sound of laughter echoing around the console room was addictive, and lightened everything considerably.
“Charming. Is the laughter supposed to indicate that you didn’t like what you saw, Miss Jones?”
“Why, Mister Smith, the laughter is simply my outward show of appreciation for what I saw!” she responded in an upper-class accent, trying desperately to keep a straight face.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
At this, he had to laugh as well, and he stepped around the console to his clothes, nearer where she sat. Not only was he still a little cool, but much longer and those niggling little thoughts about Martha in his head might translate to his body, and whilst he could usually hide something like that, dressed in only a (rather small) towel it might be more difficult.
Except… well it looked just a little like she was staring at his chest. Interesting, to say the least. He took a questioning step forward. Oh, he knew she’d flirted mildly in the past, but he’d always kept in mind what she’d said to him the first time she’d travelled with him… “I only go for humans anyway”.
She looked a little confused, but at the same time, she stood up. Not a dramatic move overall, but in the heavy silence that had fallen in the room, it loomed large. He wondered briefly if she was going to leave, but instead she stepped forward. Another action that seemed suddenly so huge. She clearly felt the atmosphere, and almost whispered, “I promised myself I wouldn’t do this, you know, get myself into this sort of situation.”
He smiled, tightly, and nodded, clutching the towel to him, about to step away before she took another pace forwards, towards him.
“I usually have a lot of willpower, as well.”
There was only one step between them, and he mentally tallied up whether he should take it or not. She solved the problem for him by taking it at last, bringing their bodies parallel, and raised a hand to touch his face. She looked seriously at him, the silence in between her words still pressing in on them, before dropping her hand again.
“I’m not her. Rose, I mean. I don’t know what...or who, or…but I’m not her.”
His hearts almost stopped. He took her hand, and raised it to his mouth, kissing the inside of her wrist, caressing it with his lips and inhaling her fragrance, while tucking his towel up with his other hand. The hand then its found its way to her waist, and she sighed, an incomprehensible deep breath.
“I know,” he whispered almost silently into her wrist, “I know.” Just a little louder this time, and she looked up at him, big brown eyes, but not much naivety in them. “You’re not her, and I don’t want you to be her.”
She almost smiled then, and he felt his hearts almost stop for the second time in two minutes. He began to kiss his way up her arm, up to the thin straps of her top, and across the curve of her neck, but he felt tension still holding her back. He stopped look at her again. “I don’t want you to be her, Martha, I promise.”
This seemed to be a catalyst, and she stepped back slightly, worrying him, before her hands travelled to the bottom of her shirt, and he pulled it smoothly over her head. His eyes traversed the expanse of skin that he’d never seen before, and when he finally raised his eyes from her beautiful curves, he found her looking as serious as he’d ever seen her. He stepped this time, pulling her against his body, and running his hands across her back. She sighed again, before tugging at his towel. Their breathing echoed in the room, and he stilled her hand for a moment, before pulling her towards the corridor.
“Gonna do this right, Martha Jones, gonna make sure this is right.”
They reached his bedroom, and she slowed before entering the door, as if this was sacred ground. He turned to face her, nodded, and led her inside. She followed, with that lovely, nervous smile upon her lips, and when they reached the bed, pulled him on top of her easily.
He began sliding off her jeans, and when she was clad in only her underwear, and he in a towel, he looked down and realised he had yet to kiss her. With that same intense pressure hanging in the air around them, he leant down and placed his lips on hers. She tensed just slightly, then he felt her kiss him too. They began to move more, heads turning and short breaths taken. He slid his tongue against her smooth bottom lip, and she opened her mouth, letting him in. They kissed slowly, but with the same passion he’d have expected from the tension in the console room. Her hands roamed his body available above the towel, and his caresses grew slightly rougher as their mouths fused together. He couldn’t be sure whether it was seconds, minutes or hours that they’d been kissing, but his hands began pulling at the straps of her bra, and she arched her back, without words, to give him better access to pull it off.
This done, he raised himself up to look better at her body, lying flushed and contrasting against the white sheets of his bed. He felt her fingers picking at the knot of his towel, and as it fell, he saw her smile again. He leant back down, and resumed kissing her. He was no longer even sure where his hands were, or where her hands were, but he could feel smooth silk pressing against his hard cock, and slipped a hand under the waistband to touch her for the first time. She shuddered, and grasped at his shoulders above her, before burying her face in his neck, breathing deeply yet again as he stroked her. He felt her hand come to rest on his cock, and used his other hand to pull her lips to his again.
Their kisses became more frantic, and he pulled at her knickers until they slid down her legs, and then used that hand to slither up to her breasts. He touched them feather-light and cupped them, still sliding his fingers between her legs, before she took him in her hand more fully, and angled his head towards hers, a question in her eyes but not quite shown on her lips.
“I want this,” he murmured.
She closed her eyes at this, and positioned him at her entrance. He paused, then thrust inside her, smoothly and quickly, but feeling her every response. As he began to push in and out of her, she started to moan, not loudly, but with a husky, needy tone and he leant back down to kiss her again.
An interminable amount of time passed before she shuddered around him, thrusting up one final time to meet him, and as he looked at her face twist elegantly in climax, he only needed a few more strokes before he fell over the precipice himself. Their dual moans filled his bedroom and resounded though the air, dragging out the moment.
As they lay tangled in bed afterwards, the sweat still cooling on their skin, he made sure to place a hand on her waist, and rested his face in her hair as she fell to sleep. He was going to make sure this was right. Truth or Dare probably wasn’t considered the most dignified way of starting a relationship, though. His eyelids fluttered as he thought this, and as he drifted off, he let the pleasant tiredness sink in and an honest, genuine smile fell across his features.
Anyway, here it is.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Title: She Makes You Take Your Clothes Off
Pairing: Ten/Martha
Spoilers: Not as far as I can tell
Rating: Some sex. Sort of the majority of the fic, really. *blushes*
Summary: Martha, Ten, sex. A little dancing. That's it, really.
A/N: Not quite as raunchy as the title makes it seem, but there's not loads of plot either. Beta'd by the lovely (and v. fast!) ionlylurkhere - Thanks again! Also, the first dip of my toe in the murky waters of smut, so it may not be expert stuff, for which I apologise.
She’ll Make You Take Your Clothes Off
He was fairly sure there was nothing as undignified as a naked Time Lord prancing around in the rain. It was demeaning, confusing, and more than a little cold, but, as usual, there had been a very good reason for it. Impeccable reasoning, in fact. Martha had told him to.
Oh, he could conjure up all kinds of lies…or ideas…yes, ideas, as to why… :
she’d needed a diversion while she released the prisoners; it had been necessary to make it rain, according to a tribe’s mythology; she’d promised a very wealthy businessman he could see it if he let her go…etc. Unfortunately, none of these were true. Nope, instead he was making a complete and utter pillock of himself because he’d done something incredibly stupid. He’d agreed to play Truth or Dare with Martha Jones. Looking back (it was only half an hour ago), it had been a monumentally silly thing to do. OK, so she’d agreed he could go to a deserted planet, and only had to dance for five minutes (bartered down from ten!), but still.
Undignified.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
After his five minutes were up, she let him back inside, handing him a towel she’d collected before he’d started - he supposed she was trying to prove she wasn’t overly cruel. However, she clearly found it difficult to stop laughing, and if he wasn’t mistaken she’d been quickly putting her mobile back in her pocket when he’d walked in. She’d better not have done what he thought she’d done. He’d have to confiscate the damn thing if she had.
Mind you, it was his own fault really. He should have known better than to play if he didn’t want to take off his clothes. He may not be human, but he knew a lot of the customs. Everyone knew stripping was the real point of most Truth or Dare games anyway.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He wrapped the towel more firmly around him, glaring at her across the console. He set the controls back to the Vortex, and watched as she giggled, still trying to hide it, but failing miserably. The temperature was several degrees higher in the TARDIS, and the Doctor was warming up fast, but he was still a little chilly.
He carried on fiddling with the levers, but watching his hands slide off them due to the residual water was just too much for Martha. She burst out laughing at his attempts, and he pouted at her.
“You know, I’m going to start getting offended in a minute. Laughing at dancing is all very well and good, but if you’re laughing at me naked, I could be extremely offended.”
This just set her off again, and even though he was acting irritably, the sound of laughter echoing around the console room was addictive, and lightened everything considerably.
“Charming. Is the laughter supposed to indicate that you didn’t like what you saw, Miss Jones?”
“Why, Mister Smith, the laughter is simply my outward show of appreciation for what I saw!” she responded in an upper-class accent, trying desperately to keep a straight face.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
At this, he had to laugh as well, and he stepped around the console to his clothes, nearer where she sat. Not only was he still a little cool, but much longer and those niggling little thoughts about Martha in his head might translate to his body, and whilst he could usually hide something like that, dressed in only a (rather small) towel it might be more difficult.
Except… well it looked just a little like she was staring at his chest. Interesting, to say the least. He took a questioning step forward. Oh, he knew she’d flirted mildly in the past, but he’d always kept in mind what she’d said to him the first time she’d travelled with him… “I only go for humans anyway”.
She looked a little confused, but at the same time, she stood up. Not a dramatic move overall, but in the heavy silence that had fallen in the room, it loomed large. He wondered briefly if she was going to leave, but instead she stepped forward. Another action that seemed suddenly so huge. She clearly felt the atmosphere, and almost whispered, “I promised myself I wouldn’t do this, you know, get myself into this sort of situation.”
He smiled, tightly, and nodded, clutching the towel to him, about to step away before she took another pace forwards, towards him.
“I usually have a lot of willpower, as well.”
There was only one step between them, and he mentally tallied up whether he should take it or not. She solved the problem for him by taking it at last, bringing their bodies parallel, and raised a hand to touch his face. She looked seriously at him, the silence in between her words still pressing in on them, before dropping her hand again.
“I’m not her. Rose, I mean. I don’t know what...or who, or…but I’m not her.”
His hearts almost stopped. He took her hand, and raised it to his mouth, kissing the inside of her wrist, caressing it with his lips and inhaling her fragrance, while tucking his towel up with his other hand. The hand then its found its way to her waist, and she sighed, an incomprehensible deep breath.
“I know,” he whispered almost silently into her wrist, “I know.” Just a little louder this time, and she looked up at him, big brown eyes, but not much naivety in them. “You’re not her, and I don’t want you to be her.”
She almost smiled then, and he felt his hearts almost stop for the second time in two minutes. He began to kiss his way up her arm, up to the thin straps of her top, and across the curve of her neck, but he felt tension still holding her back. He stopped look at her again. “I don’t want you to be her, Martha, I promise.”
This seemed to be a catalyst, and she stepped back slightly, worrying him, before her hands travelled to the bottom of her shirt, and he pulled it smoothly over her head. His eyes traversed the expanse of skin that he’d never seen before, and when he finally raised his eyes from her beautiful curves, he found her looking as serious as he’d ever seen her. He stepped this time, pulling her against his body, and running his hands across her back. She sighed again, before tugging at his towel. Their breathing echoed in the room, and he stilled her hand for a moment, before pulling her towards the corridor.
“Gonna do this right, Martha Jones, gonna make sure this is right.”
They reached his bedroom, and she slowed before entering the door, as if this was sacred ground. He turned to face her, nodded, and led her inside. She followed, with that lovely, nervous smile upon her lips, and when they reached the bed, pulled him on top of her easily.
He began sliding off her jeans, and when she was clad in only her underwear, and he in a towel, he looked down and realised he had yet to kiss her. With that same intense pressure hanging in the air around them, he leant down and placed his lips on hers. She tensed just slightly, then he felt her kiss him too. They began to move more, heads turning and short breaths taken. He slid his tongue against her smooth bottom lip, and she opened her mouth, letting him in. They kissed slowly, but with the same passion he’d have expected from the tension in the console room. Her hands roamed his body available above the towel, and his caresses grew slightly rougher as their mouths fused together. He couldn’t be sure whether it was seconds, minutes or hours that they’d been kissing, but his hands began pulling at the straps of her bra, and she arched her back, without words, to give him better access to pull it off.
This done, he raised himself up to look better at her body, lying flushed and contrasting against the white sheets of his bed. He felt her fingers picking at the knot of his towel, and as it fell, he saw her smile again. He leant back down, and resumed kissing her. He was no longer even sure where his hands were, or where her hands were, but he could feel smooth silk pressing against his hard cock, and slipped a hand under the waistband to touch her for the first time. She shuddered, and grasped at his shoulders above her, before burying her face in his neck, breathing deeply yet again as he stroked her. He felt her hand come to rest on his cock, and used his other hand to pull her lips to his again.
Their kisses became more frantic, and he pulled at her knickers until they slid down her legs, and then used that hand to slither up to her breasts. He touched them feather-light and cupped them, still sliding his fingers between her legs, before she took him in her hand more fully, and angled his head towards hers, a question in her eyes but not quite shown on her lips.
“I want this,” he murmured.
She closed her eyes at this, and positioned him at her entrance. He paused, then thrust inside her, smoothly and quickly, but feeling her every response. As he began to push in and out of her, she started to moan, not loudly, but with a husky, needy tone and he leant back down to kiss her again.
An interminable amount of time passed before she shuddered around him, thrusting up one final time to meet him, and as he looked at her face twist elegantly in climax, he only needed a few more strokes before he fell over the precipice himself. Their dual moans filled his bedroom and resounded though the air, dragging out the moment.
As they lay tangled in bed afterwards, the sweat still cooling on their skin, he made sure to place a hand on her waist, and rested his face in her hair as she fell to sleep. He was going to make sure this was right. Truth or Dare probably wasn’t considered the most dignified way of starting a relationship, though. His eyelids fluttered as he thought this, and as he drifted off, he let the pleasant tiredness sink in and an honest, genuine smile fell across his features.