Fiction de mi. Why, yes, I am failing Spanish, now you ask...
A new fic! Silly, a little smutty, and sort or pointless, but I'm bored and this seemed a good way to waste half an hout. Un-betad, so don't throw stones for grammar, I'll try better next time ;)
Title: Talents
Rating: Not that bad
Pairing: 10/Jack slightly, and Martha
Spoilers: Jack, no mention of how. (Told you it was silly.)
Summary: Martha sees Jack and Ten.
Talents
Now, Martha was completely ready to admit that she had faults. As her mother had never tired of telling her, she didn’t show enough respect to her elders, she had no appreciation of classical music, and she interrupted people frequently.
She wasn’t the world’s greatest cook, and she nicked Tish’s student card on regular occasions when she was younger, to use as ID. She bit her nails.
However, in accordance with popular family belief, she did possess a degree of tact. Always called upon as the negotiator, she was level-headed and, when the situation required it, quick enough to understand a situation, and how to stop making it worse. She was very good at that
Realising now was a good time to utilise all of these talents, she prepared herself to take a step back, very quietly, out of the library and then back another few steps back to her room. Still very quietly. It was a good plan, she decided, with many benefits. So that is what she would do.
Except for the small problem of her feet not actually responding to her brain. Dammit, she was making conscious decisions, why the hell was her body not following them? It wasn’t that difficult. Breathe in, step backwards, turn around, leave. Breathe out. But she still wasn’t. Instead, her feet stayed firmly planted to the floor, in exactly the same position, and her breathing hadn’t slowed significantly either. What was the point in being an intelligent species if her body couldn’t obey simple demands?
Whilst contemplating her situation, her eyes remained firmly on a point in the middle-distance, but this view, coincidentally, seemed to include the protagonists of this entire situation. So, during her (increasingly distracted) inner rant, Martha found that she was in fact staring. Staring quite blatantly, if she was honest with herself - something she was also usually quite good at.
Oh, it wasn’t that she was prejudiced, or anything like that. Not a fan of prejudice in general, Martha wasn’t shocked by the actions in front of her, just of the people involved. OK, so Captain Jack hadn’t seemed like the most…limited…person that she’d ever met, and the Doctor was the last of his (alien) species, with slightly psychotic tendencies, but…still, did Jack’s tongue really have to be quite so deep in the Doctor’s mouth?
The disturbing thought stuck her that actually, she wasn’t even sure who she was more jealous of. Jack, for having his tongue in the Doctor’s mouth, or the Doctor, for having said tongue in his mouth. Possibly, she mused, she was more jealous of Jack’s tongue itself, or of the Captain’s agile hands, entwining themselves so easily in the Doctor’s wild hair. Or the Doctor’s leg, which was caught so thoroughly between Jack’s thighs. Or the Doctor’s collarbone, with the…
No, no, NO. She was leaving. Alien and time-traveller, men with men or women with women, watching two people like this was rude. And she was leaving. Seriously.
..........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
Ah, Martha. She wasn’t naïve, Martha, but if she honestly thought that Jack, with his seeming radar for any shaggable person, or himself, with a myriad of Time Lord senses, hadn’t noticed her standing just out of the doorway…well, she still had a lot to learn - and he could teach her, he was good at that.
..........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
As Jack’s hand made a spectacularly unsubtle pass over the Doctor’s crotch, she watched as he smiled his manic grin, and pulled slightly on the short hairs on the back of Jack’s head. Tugging his head back slightly, the Doctor proceeded to indulge, very slowly, in one of his favourite pastimes, that being licking. As he had tried to explain on a multitude of occasions to various people they’d met, licking enabled him to “carry out a full chemical analysis, check for possession by other aliens and simultaneously piss people off no end.” If she had been in her normal state, Martha would probably have been extremely amused by the fact that Jack didn’t appear to be pissed off by this, usually unbeatable, tactic, so he contented himself with licking Jack’s earlobe and whispering in his ear.
Ah, so the licking was having a slightly different effect to usual then, Martha summarised mentally, as Jack pulled strongly at the Doctor’s arse. Always good to catalogue new results.
..........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
“What do you think, Captain?”
Well, that was a stupid question, if he’d ever heard one. What did he think? He thought it was a brilliant idea, up there with the invention of anaesthetics, the democracy of Holligobina and the use of mental contraception. Almost as good as Jack’s own, he smirked, while the Doctor began unbuttoning his shirt with nimble fingers. And the obsession with the tongue thing? Suddenly, that was a great idea as well, in Jack’s humble opinion.
Glancing back across at the extremely delectable woman in the corridor, with the glazed expression and the surprisingly sensual eyes, Jack thought of reasons for saying no, to both of them, just for a second.
Nope, none good enough. On with the show it was, then. Just drag the Doc’s head upwards slightly for one final kiss, and…pull away. Come hither look, catch bottom lip in between teeth, raise right eyebrow…and…
..........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
Martha Jones snapped out of her immobile state to react to Jack’s obvious offer with slightly widened eyes, but a confident grin. He pulled her up and into him for a blazing kiss, and she realised that he really was very good at that.
-
The Doctor smiled at the combination. Those expressions got people falling over themselves to offer themselves up on a platter, but Martha had done so with a proportionally larger amount of restraint and dignity - she really was very good at that.
-
Yep, bang, Jack thought. Give it five minutes and they’d all be naked, and…and that was something he’d be willing to bet they were all really very good at...
Comments are fantastic - unless you never want to see fic written by me ever again, in which case I'd rather you didn't comment, actually. Unless you really want to, I suppose. Don't worry, I'm not suicidal.
Title: Talents
Rating: Not that bad
Pairing: 10/Jack slightly, and Martha
Spoilers: Jack, no mention of how. (Told you it was silly.)
Summary: Martha sees Jack and Ten.
Talents
Now, Martha was completely ready to admit that she had faults. As her mother had never tired of telling her, she didn’t show enough respect to her elders, she had no appreciation of classical music, and she interrupted people frequently.
She wasn’t the world’s greatest cook, and she nicked Tish’s student card on regular occasions when she was younger, to use as ID. She bit her nails.
However, in accordance with popular family belief, she did possess a degree of tact. Always called upon as the negotiator, she was level-headed and, when the situation required it, quick enough to understand a situation, and how to stop making it worse. She was very good at that
Realising now was a good time to utilise all of these talents, she prepared herself to take a step back, very quietly, out of the library and then back another few steps back to her room. Still very quietly. It was a good plan, she decided, with many benefits. So that is what she would do.
Except for the small problem of her feet not actually responding to her brain. Dammit, she was making conscious decisions, why the hell was her body not following them? It wasn’t that difficult. Breathe in, step backwards, turn around, leave. Breathe out. But she still wasn’t. Instead, her feet stayed firmly planted to the floor, in exactly the same position, and her breathing hadn’t slowed significantly either. What was the point in being an intelligent species if her body couldn’t obey simple demands?
Whilst contemplating her situation, her eyes remained firmly on a point in the middle-distance, but this view, coincidentally, seemed to include the protagonists of this entire situation. So, during her (increasingly distracted) inner rant, Martha found that she was in fact staring. Staring quite blatantly, if she was honest with herself - something she was also usually quite good at.
Oh, it wasn’t that she was prejudiced, or anything like that. Not a fan of prejudice in general, Martha wasn’t shocked by the actions in front of her, just of the people involved. OK, so Captain Jack hadn’t seemed like the most…limited…person that she’d ever met, and the Doctor was the last of his (alien) species, with slightly psychotic tendencies, but…still, did Jack’s tongue really have to be quite so deep in the Doctor’s mouth?
The disturbing thought stuck her that actually, she wasn’t even sure who she was more jealous of. Jack, for having his tongue in the Doctor’s mouth, or the Doctor, for having said tongue in his mouth. Possibly, she mused, she was more jealous of Jack’s tongue itself, or of the Captain’s agile hands, entwining themselves so easily in the Doctor’s wild hair. Or the Doctor’s leg, which was caught so thoroughly between Jack’s thighs. Or the Doctor’s collarbone, with the…
No, no, NO. She was leaving. Alien and time-traveller, men with men or women with women, watching two people like this was rude. And she was leaving. Seriously.
..........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
Ah, Martha. She wasn’t naïve, Martha, but if she honestly thought that Jack, with his seeming radar for any shaggable person, or himself, with a myriad of Time Lord senses, hadn’t noticed her standing just out of the doorway…well, she still had a lot to learn - and he could teach her, he was good at that.
..........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
As Jack’s hand made a spectacularly unsubtle pass over the Doctor’s crotch, she watched as he smiled his manic grin, and pulled slightly on the short hairs on the back of Jack’s head. Tugging his head back slightly, the Doctor proceeded to indulge, very slowly, in one of his favourite pastimes, that being licking. As he had tried to explain on a multitude of occasions to various people they’d met, licking enabled him to “carry out a full chemical analysis, check for possession by other aliens and simultaneously piss people off no end.” If she had been in her normal state, Martha would probably have been extremely amused by the fact that Jack didn’t appear to be pissed off by this, usually unbeatable, tactic, so he contented himself with licking Jack’s earlobe and whispering in his ear.
Ah, so the licking was having a slightly different effect to usual then, Martha summarised mentally, as Jack pulled strongly at the Doctor’s arse. Always good to catalogue new results.
..........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
“What do you think, Captain?”
Well, that was a stupid question, if he’d ever heard one. What did he think? He thought it was a brilliant idea, up there with the invention of anaesthetics, the democracy of Holligobina and the use of mental contraception. Almost as good as Jack’s own, he smirked, while the Doctor began unbuttoning his shirt with nimble fingers. And the obsession with the tongue thing? Suddenly, that was a great idea as well, in Jack’s humble opinion.
Glancing back across at the extremely delectable woman in the corridor, with the glazed expression and the surprisingly sensual eyes, Jack thought of reasons for saying no, to both of them, just for a second.
Nope, none good enough. On with the show it was, then. Just drag the Doc’s head upwards slightly for one final kiss, and…pull away. Come hither look, catch bottom lip in between teeth, raise right eyebrow…and…
..........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
Martha Jones snapped out of her immobile state to react to Jack’s obvious offer with slightly widened eyes, but a confident grin. He pulled her up and into him for a blazing kiss, and she realised that he really was very good at that.
-
The Doctor smiled at the combination. Those expressions got people falling over themselves to offer themselves up on a platter, but Martha had done so with a proportionally larger amount of restraint and dignity - she really was very good at that.
-
Yep, bang, Jack thought. Give it five minutes and they’d all be naked, and…and that was something he’d be willing to bet they were all really very good at...
Comments are fantastic - unless you never want to see fic written by me ever again, in which case I'd rather you didn't comment, actually. Unless you really want to, I suppose. Don't worry, I'm not suicidal.