fic request for lilianvaldemyer 1/2
Fic written for lilianvaldemyer who requested: "Ten/Donna, nail polish" in my fic request meme.
Title: False Pretenses
Author: the_willows
Rating: R/NC17- very adult themes, this could mess with your brain.
Characters: Dark!Donna, Ten
Disclaimer: The Beeb would never condone such behaviour, which is why they're not mine...
Author's note: This is a tiny cheat, because the premise of this had been discussed previously between us, but this was the perfect incentive to get it written. :D And apologies to everyone who might be left reeling from reading such filth from little old me, it's not my usual fare, but a promise is a promise. ;)
As the slender fingers tipped with blood red nail polish slid around the pole, taking a firm grip on it, The Doctor remembered those same fingers carving deep lines of agonising pleasure down his back with those ruby talons.
He was stripped to the waist, and straddling a chair backwards, his hands bound with silk cords to the ladder-shaped back. The small room was dark, oppressive, the scant lighting also crimson except for the dim yellowish light above the pole.
Keeping her grip on the thin metal cylinder, Donna slowly lifted one leg, wrapping it around the pole, leaning back and rubbing her pelvis slowly up and down, the other hand lifting the heavy mass of curls from her neck to expose her porcelain shoulders, her head swaying in time to the introduction, eyes closed, lips swollen and parted as she lost herself to the rhythm.
Ooh baby don't you know I suffer
Ooh baby can't you hear me moan
The Doctor suffered, but she knew it. She knew how much he wanted to possess her, but she held back, taunting, teasing, had tricked him into this current state with the promise of surrender.
The black satin basque barely contained her full breasts as she gyrated around the pole, fingers sliding up and down it, caressing it like a lover, igniting images of lust in the Doctor's mind as he watched, helpless, his trousers stretched tight enough to burst over his engorged manhood.
Ooh you set my soul alight...
His heart, his soul, his loins, they were all alight with painful desire for this vixen who danced just out of reach, the flush of her own lust apparent in her face, the glimpse of nipple and, when she turned full on to face him and slid her back down the pole, parting her knees, in the slick redness of her bared lower lips.
The Doctor's chest heaved, the room was thick not only with darkness but with a heady scent that seemed to provoke his desire and heighten his frustration. The languid look on Donna's face as she dropped to knees in front of him seemed to confirm his suspicion that there was some kind of narcotic substance circulating in the air.
The heavy, sensual yet primal rhythm of the song seemed to have taken over Donna. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair as he watched her crawl towards him then drop and roll over onto her back, her smooth white neck arched back over the edge of the small dais where she was performing. Her curls were almost within his reach; he needed something tangible to hold onto to stop himself going mad. He rocked the chair forward, but she was still just out of his reach. He let the chair fall back upright with a whimper.
The sound made her smile, and she rolled onto her front again, pushing herself up onto her knees, smiling at him with a look of pure wickedness. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily, almost painfully in the thick cloying air, trying to stop himself from screaming.
When he opened his eyes, she was sat on the edge, leaning back on both hands. She lifted a leg towards him, her foot encased in a shoe made of thin black leather straps, the heels honed to impossibly sharp points. She touched his bound hands with her foot, allowing him to stroke it, wrenching it away sharply when he tried to hold on.
"Are you worthy?" she asked, her voice soft but cruel.
He couldn't answer; he didn't know. She stood up, and stepped closer, leaning over him. He felt her breath on his face before she reached behind him and grabbed a handful of his hair, twisting it and wrenching his head up towards her. He winced, his hearts pounding, his erection twitching as she brought her lips down to his, kissing him softly, almost tenderly until he allowed her full access to his mouth, and then she caught his tongue harshly between her teeth until he moaned for release.
The music was on a loop, and continued to play; it wasn't loud, but it was pounding in his head as Donna released his hair and stepped behind him, running her fingers over the deep bloodied lines down his back. He winced, and tried to turn away from her, but she threw herself against his back, her breasts pressed to the tender flesh, her arm around his neck, hand over his mouth. She brought her lips to his ear, whispering.
"No, not worthy."
And then she was gone, leaving his body aching for her touch again, however cruel.
She re-emerged from behind him, something in her hand. His sonic screwdriver. She moved over to the dais and sat on the edge, her hair falling about her face, her lipstick smudged from the kiss, and her eyes wild and merciless.
With a grin, she spread her legs, allowing him to see the smears of wetness on her inner thighs. She held up the sonic device, and pointed it at his bonds, but then stopped, laughing, bringing it to her lips and kissing it. The Doctor's eyes gradually widened in realisation, and he watched in horrified fascination as she lay back slowly, sliding the slim device inside her wetness with a sigh.
A spreading stain of moisture seeped across his lap.
Title: False Pretenses
Author: the_willows
Rating: R/NC17- very adult themes, this could mess with your brain.
Characters: Dark!Donna, Ten
Disclaimer: The Beeb would never condone such behaviour, which is why they're not mine...
Author's note: This is a tiny cheat, because the premise of this had been discussed previously between us, but this was the perfect incentive to get it written. :D And apologies to everyone who might be left reeling from reading such filth from little old me, it's not my usual fare, but a promise is a promise. ;)
As the slender fingers tipped with blood red nail polish slid around the pole, taking a firm grip on it, The Doctor remembered those same fingers carving deep lines of agonising pleasure down his back with those ruby talons.
He was stripped to the waist, and straddling a chair backwards, his hands bound with silk cords to the ladder-shaped back. The small room was dark, oppressive, the scant lighting also crimson except for the dim yellowish light above the pole.
Keeping her grip on the thin metal cylinder, Donna slowly lifted one leg, wrapping it around the pole, leaning back and rubbing her pelvis slowly up and down, the other hand lifting the heavy mass of curls from her neck to expose her porcelain shoulders, her head swaying in time to the introduction, eyes closed, lips swollen and parted as she lost herself to the rhythm.
Ooh baby don't you know I suffer
Ooh baby can't you hear me moan
The Doctor suffered, but she knew it. She knew how much he wanted to possess her, but she held back, taunting, teasing, had tricked him into this current state with the promise of surrender.
The black satin basque barely contained her full breasts as she gyrated around the pole, fingers sliding up and down it, caressing it like a lover, igniting images of lust in the Doctor's mind as he watched, helpless, his trousers stretched tight enough to burst over his engorged manhood.
Ooh you set my soul alight...
His heart, his soul, his loins, they were all alight with painful desire for this vixen who danced just out of reach, the flush of her own lust apparent in her face, the glimpse of nipple and, when she turned full on to face him and slid her back down the pole, parting her knees, in the slick redness of her bared lower lips.
The Doctor's chest heaved, the room was thick not only with darkness but with a heady scent that seemed to provoke his desire and heighten his frustration. The languid look on Donna's face as she dropped to knees in front of him seemed to confirm his suspicion that there was some kind of narcotic substance circulating in the air.
The heavy, sensual yet primal rhythm of the song seemed to have taken over Donna. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair as he watched her crawl towards him then drop and roll over onto her back, her smooth white neck arched back over the edge of the small dais where she was performing. Her curls were almost within his reach; he needed something tangible to hold onto to stop himself going mad. He rocked the chair forward, but she was still just out of his reach. He let the chair fall back upright with a whimper.
The sound made her smile, and she rolled onto her front again, pushing herself up onto her knees, smiling at him with a look of pure wickedness. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily, almost painfully in the thick cloying air, trying to stop himself from screaming.
When he opened his eyes, she was sat on the edge, leaning back on both hands. She lifted a leg towards him, her foot encased in a shoe made of thin black leather straps, the heels honed to impossibly sharp points. She touched his bound hands with her foot, allowing him to stroke it, wrenching it away sharply when he tried to hold on.
"Are you worthy?" she asked, her voice soft but cruel.
He couldn't answer; he didn't know. She stood up, and stepped closer, leaning over him. He felt her breath on his face before she reached behind him and grabbed a handful of his hair, twisting it and wrenching his head up towards her. He winced, his hearts pounding, his erection twitching as she brought her lips down to his, kissing him softly, almost tenderly until he allowed her full access to his mouth, and then she caught his tongue harshly between her teeth until he moaned for release.
The music was on a loop, and continued to play; it wasn't loud, but it was pounding in his head as Donna released his hair and stepped behind him, running her fingers over the deep bloodied lines down his back. He winced, and tried to turn away from her, but she threw herself against his back, her breasts pressed to the tender flesh, her arm around his neck, hand over his mouth. She brought her lips to his ear, whispering.
"No, not worthy."
And then she was gone, leaving his body aching for her touch again, however cruel.
She re-emerged from behind him, something in her hand. His sonic screwdriver. She moved over to the dais and sat on the edge, her hair falling about her face, her lipstick smudged from the kiss, and her eyes wild and merciless.
With a grin, she spread her legs, allowing him to see the smears of wetness on her inner thighs. She held up the sonic device, and pointed it at his bonds, but then stopped, laughing, bringing it to her lips and kissing it. The Doctor's eyes gradually widened in realisation, and he watched in horrified fascination as she lay back slowly, sliding the slim device inside her wetness with a sigh.
A spreading stain of moisture seeped across his lap.