An Officer and the Noble Woman, Part 11 (11 of ?)
Title: An Officer and the Noble Woman, Part 11 (11 of ?)
Author: dtstrainers
Paring: Donna Noble/Peter Carlisle
Beta/Co-Captain of this Ship: WhosInTheAttic- I owe you a bit more than usual on this one. And I'm still waiting on the Twins.. I miss them both.... Despite her involvement, I'm sad to say that any and all mistakes are my own.
Rating: M. Very, very M. This one is clearly NSFW and hopefully a bit problematic for those without the luxury of a respiratory bypass system.
Word Count: 3,709
Summary: Peter has asked Donna over to his place for a bite. They may even eventually make dinner.
Disclaimer: Donna and Peter both belong to others, except in my own twisted version of what should be. My Great and Glorious plan is to post at least once a week, and always on Friday. This has been a trying week, so please forgive my tardiness in posting.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8.1 | Part 8.2 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12
Tuesday, 8 May 2012, 6:45 PM
“Hold on, hold on, hold on! I’ve got the key here somewhere, now...” Peter Carlisle moaned as Donna poked him repeatedly in the small of the back. His hands were full of shopping bags and he was juggling them as he fumbled in his pocket for the key, simultaneously trying to avoid Donna’s digging finger. She was giggling shamelessly as he hopped from foot to foot and she wondered how long he would let her get away with tormenting him before he inevitably retaliated.
“Serves you right, Detective Dumbo- I told you you should have been gettin’ out your key in the lift instead of accostin’ me,” she hooted as he finally got the door open, nearly falling over in his haste to put the shopping down. No sooner had he plopped the bags down on the counter than he turned and lunged at Donna. She shrieked and doubled over as he turned the tables and took advantage of her situation, tickling her mercilessly while her hands were still full.
“Oh, so I’m accused of accostin’ you now, am I?” Peter cried indignantly as his fingers danced across her ribs. “Who was it that kept askin’ if the melons were ripe enough for my tastes as we stood in the middle of the produce section? Hmmmm?” he continued, pursuing her across the kitchen. “Who kept stopin’ short so as I’d collide with them in the middle of Sainsburry’s? Hmmmm? Don't think you can play the innocent victim with me, missy!” Donna took advantage of a momentary lull in his attack and dived for the kitchen counter, barely managing to heave the bags up onto the countertop before Peter caught her about the waist and spun her around, protesting and laughing at the same time.
“Oi! I thought I already warned you about manhandling the produce,” she gasped when she finally caught her breath and could speak again. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before grabbing the hem of her blouse and pulling it down sharply in an attempt to put her clothing back in order, but only succeeded in straining the buttons and accentuating her breasts as Peter pulled her closer. She could feel the blood pounding in her ears and her hands fisted in his shirt as he slowly began to brush his lips across hers in a painfully cautious kiss, full of want and need. Just as she was about to lose herself in his embrace, she was rudely brought back to her senses by a wayward melon that had rolled out of the bag and come to rest against the small of her back.
“We.....we need to sort out the shopping now,” she said breathlessly, feeling about for the fruit nestled up behind her. Peter leaned against her, reaching behind with one hand to capture the offending produce they'd bought when they’d discovered figs were out of season. He hefted it carefully as he drew it from behind her back and stood there for a long moment, considering the fruit in his hand with a tiny wicked smile. Based on his expression, Donna knew if she could see his thoughts played out on a screen above his head, she’d find them both starring in an extremely erotic film. “Hand that here,” she said, biting her lip to keep her own anxious smile contained. She extended her hand and waited for him to comply.
He looked up at her through his eyelashes, hesitating before replying, and Donna wondered if he knew what that look did to her. She wouldn’t have been surprised if she had found out that he’d calculated the effect on her of every gesture he made, of every word he said and had come to a precise formula for seducing her. She was certain that he knew that watching him eat would raise any outcome by a factor of ten. “Sorry. Forgot about the shoppin’ for a moment,” he admitted. Peter handed her the melon while casting her a knowing glance. “I get a bit carried away at times,’ he finished with a shrug before moving to start sorting their purchases.
She mock-sighed and rolled her eyes at him, wondering aloud, “Men...what is it about round, firm objects and men?” She turned back to remove the rest of the produce from the shopping bags and laid each item on the counter. As she pulled a bunch of bananas from the bag, she waved a hand in circles in the air. “I swear, it's not like every time a woman picks up a banana, she's thinkin’...” She trailed off, embarrassed at her obvious train of thought.
He laughed then and looked back from the fridge at her. “We humans are sad creatures, aren't we?” His smile spread and became a grin and she noticed the tiny lines around his eyes that only appeared when he was well and truly happy. They were quickly becoming one of her favorite things about him, as their appearance always heralded a perfect evening, whether they were out and about or home on the couch.
Donna smirked at him, knowing that he was quite aware of what she'd been thinking and yet he had decided to let it pass unremarked-upon. “Yep- humans are pretty rubbish about their hormones, I reckon,” she replied and focused her attention on putting the extra produce away while studiously avoiding making eye-contact. If she looked at him properly now, it would be all over. Once again, she mentally kicked herself: she had been the one to put the brakes on their physical activities, not him.
When she reached into the bag for the second melon, Peter carefully closed his hand around her wrist and took the fruit from her hand. He slowly brought her hand to his lips, kissing her open palm before replacing the melon in her grasp. ‘Indeed we are,” he agreed, closing the distance between them. Taking her by the hips, he leaned in to kiss her and Donna was stuck holding the melon awkwardly between them.
“Peter,” she drawled when they finally broke apart, “is that a banana in your pocket?” It was a bad joke, one of the oldest in the world, she knew, but she just couldn’t help herself, especially when he flashed her that maniacal grin of approval.
“Don't be silly, Donna; no one just wanders about with a banana in their pocket...* he admonished, taking her free hand and carefully moving it to the front of his trousers. Donna’s breathing faltered and for a moment, he thought she might actually drop the melon. The tiny part of her mind that had been focused on putting the groceries away disappeared into stunned silence and she had just enough presence of mind to lower her outstretched hand to allow the melon to roll across the counter before she pulled him closer and into a desperate kiss.
“OK, that's it, then,” she breathed into his ear. “Dessert first...”
He growled against her neck and pulled her flush against him, turning them just around the corner so that Donna was pressed against his kitchen table. “Donna, are you sure? Do we know each other well enough for this now?” Peter asked breathlessly, all the while knowing that he was being dreadfully unfair, asking that of her now, under the circumstances. He’d experienced first-hand the consequences of rushing headlong into a sexual encounter without first knowing the other person and as a result, he’d been patient and understanding since the night she’d pulled back from their physical relationships. He had respected her wishes and been the perfect gentleman, always escorting her home and kissing her goodnight on the threshold. It was also true, however that he’d been cautious, making certain that they were never alone for long. He was only human, after all, and now that no one else was present, his resolve was slipping.
“Shut it and kiss me, Policeman,” Donna demanded as she pulled up his shirt and wiggled her hands down the back of his trousers. All conscious thought seemed sluggish and she allowed herself to act on instinct, grabbing his perfect arse with both hands and pulling him toward her as she leaned back across the table. Peter groaned at the feel of her palms on his bum and he ground his hips against her in response. He reached under her skirt, hands trembling slightly as he fought to control his actions and not be swept away by lust and raging hormones. He slowly stroked the insides of her thighs, enjoying how she twisted and moaned. He was suddenly quite glad that she was wearing a dress, and he wondered if she'd somehow planned this. He kissed her fiercely as his hands slowly slid further up her milky thighs, squeezing and caressing as he made his way towards his goal.
Donna might possibly be embarrassed if she stopped to think about her behavior so she simply chose not to think. She’d forced Peter to pin her to the table and although he was the one on top, she was the one in charge. She had worn her skimpiest knickers in the hope that, at some point in the evening, he'd remove them, but never in her wildest fantasies did she allow herself to dream about this. She could feel him growing hard as he leaned in close between her legs and when he pressed his obvious arousal against her, it made her hotter and wetter than she already was. The thin silk of her knickers was already soaked through when he reached higher under her skirt to stroke her.
He broke away from their kiss with a moan as he felt the wet fabric of her lacy knickers, tracing his finger lightly over her clit, teasing it through the silk. His breathing hitched as Donna shuddered beneath his touch and he bit his lip, watching her writhe in response to his caress. He leaned in to kiss her, humming in approval as he traced her lips with his tongue, reclaiming her mouth.
Donna was so far gone into her own arousal that she grew bold and wild. She wrapped one leg around his hip and arched up off the table, pressing her sex into his, crying out in frustration. “Peter, please, please, please,’ she chanted, breathing into his mouth. ‘Oh, please, Policeman- take me with my clothes still on.” She rolled her hips into him again and he groaned with pleasure against the skin of her neck, withdrawing his hand from between her legs to fumble with his trousers.
He freed his erection from the confines of his clothing and moved closer, pushing her skirt up to stroke her again over her panties. He debated pulling them off or pushing them aside, teasing her a bit as he traced his fingers over the outline of her folds. She saw the indecision in his eyes and clutched his arm, begging,” Push them aside, I need you now!”
Her words lit a fire in him that quickly spread through the length of his cock as he slipped his fingers beneath her knickers and ran one along the length of her folds, gauging her wetness. He sighed at the sensation as his fingers slid easily along her and he hooked a finger around the sodden crotch of her delicate undergarment before pulling it aside. Peter quickly moved to her entrance and with one of her hands clutching his bum in encouragement, in a single firm stroke, he entered her. He groaned at how wet she was for him, at her heat enveloping him, the feel of her walls clutching at his length: all these sensations together conspired to shatter his control. “Oh, bloody hell,” he gasped as he threw his head back and lost himself in her.
When Peter pushed the thin fabric roughly to the side, the back of her knickers bunched up between the cheeks of her bum and Donna groaned at the friction. She’d always heard that quaint French phrase, la petite mort, a coy little euphemism for orgasm and laughed at it- until now. She realized that she'd never ever experienced anything like her need of him as, at his first thrust into her, she climaxed hard and fast, crying out as she did. Donna felt like she had died and was dying and she didn’t want it to ever stop. Her eyes opened wide in shock and looked up the long, lovely column of his throat as he came back to himself and slowly pumped his hips, thrusting again and again into her.
Peter bit his lip as he felt her coming around him and if he hadn’t been so far gone himself, he'd have wondered how that had happened. He felt a surge of masculine pride that spurred him on and he was determined to give it to her again, to make her come again, screaming his name. He thrust into her, almost worried he was being too rough, but since she wasn’t complaining, he wasn’t stopping. He struggled awkwardly for leverage, and finally, he gasped, “I'm sorry,” as he grabbed her knickers and ripped them off, freeing both of his hands to pull her closer. He used one hand to hike her left leg up higher on his hip, then both to grip her hips and pull her to the very edge of the table, giving him a better angle and the leverage he needed to thrust deeply into her.
Beyond all possibility of conscious though, Donna arched up instinctively, just enough for him to push completely into her. She was rewarded with a deep, desperate moan and in all honesty, she couldn’t tell if it had been from him or from her. She reached up and pulled the front of her blouse down, popping several buttons free and exposing the tops of her breasts in the process. Peter lunged into her chest, burying his face in her cleavage, nuzzling and licking her breasts with that amazing tongue. He was bent over the table, his rhythm strained by his divided attention as he brought a hand up to knead her breast through her top. He moved his fingers down to hook in the remaining buttons of her blouse and pulled them open further, exposing her lacy bra and more of her skin to his greedy mouth.
Donna threw her head back and muffled a scream as another powerful orgasm rolled through her. His mouth, and his hands and his cock and, oh! There was nothing else in her world, just him and him and him and then he was the one in charge and all she could do was react to his need.
As Donna's orgasm took her, Peter felt his own chasing after it. He brought his other hand to toy with her nipple as he thrust into her erratically, muffling his cries of pleasure between her breasts, losing himself in the feel of her skin against his lips as he spilled himself inside her. He didn’t want to stop and so he kept moving, struggling to keep the rhythm. Really he just wanted to feel her close and didn’t want it to end. He was spent then but clung tenaciously to the woman beneath him and the last vestiges of the moment. “Donna...,” he sighed against her skin, almost a whisper, his breath shaking. He felt like glass; like at any moment he could shatter into a million pieces and fall into oblivion.
“Peter, Peter, Peter,” she breathed into his hair, chanting his name like a prayer and Donna felt his long, lean body relax against her. She reached down and brought his face to hers, kissing him gently before licking and sucking at his gorgeous bottom lip.
As he collapsed against her again, he curled his arms against Donna’s sides to embrace her. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and lost himself in in the feel of her against him. “I love you,” he sighed, and it was so quiet he was nearly certain she couldn't possibly have heard. He hadn’t intended to say it aloud: it was an admission even to himself, and he was terrified by the intensity of the feeling he had just recognized. Peter kissed her neck and then inched up her body, allowing himself to be claimed in another of her perfect kisses, savoring the sensation of her fingers in his hair.
Donna was grinning and sated and impossibly happy and she wanted him to know that it was all because of him. “Peter,” she began and then she stopped abruptly. He had said something to her, whispered against her skin, but so softly she couldn't quite make it out. It couldn't be what she thought she'd heard, what she was praying to hear from him some day, could it? She tried once more. “Peter, I...” she stammered and then he was kissing her again and it was too late. She had lost the nerve to tell him exactly what she felt, too afraid of ruining this perfect moment with the man she had come to love. She slipped her hand up to tangle in his hair and smiled anew as he relaxed against her.
******************
As she came to her senses a few minutes later, Donna glanced around the kitchen, bemused and uncomfortably aware that she was still splayed awkwardly across Peter’s table with the man himself sprawled against her. “Uhm, are you still hungry, love? 'Cause we've still got groceries to take care of or...,” she smiled a little awkwardly at him, “we could call for delivery.”
He smiled against her skin and kissed a trail from her shoulder to her lips. “No, no...let's uh, put ourselves to rights again and then you sit down and relax. I'd still like to cook for you.” Peter grinned, then kissed her again before standing and offering her his hand. “The offer of dinner wasn't just a ruse to get into your knickers,” he finished as he pulled her up and into his embrace.
“Really? Good thing, I guess, ‘cause I don't think either of us will be gettin’ into that particular pair again,” Donna said with a feral grin. She leaned down and tried - and failed- to surreptitiously retrieve her ruined panties from under the table. “Hmm,” she mused aloud, “next time we decide to go all Neanderthal, I really should wear something a little less matchy.” She sighed and raised an eyebrow to him. “Either that, or I'm gonna have to start buyin' duplicate panties for each bra...” She tossed her ruined knickers in the trash and leaned in to kiss him again.
Peter moved back from her then, sorting himself and looking down at his feet. “Sorry about your knickers, I just...I mean...,” he stammered, blushing.
“Oh, no you don't! Do. Not. Apologize. Not for that. Not ever.” She poked him in the chest with a finger and was amazed that she wasn’t embarrassed. She wasn’t: not at all. “You are amazin’, just brilliant. And I don't just mean the sex, either.“ She grabbed him by the tie they hadn’t bothered to remove and kissed him soundly before backing down the hall and into the bathroom, dragging him after, to his amusement. “Come on, you. Let’s get cleaned up first, then we’ll have a quick dinner,” she announced.
“Quick?” Peter asked, confused. “Do you have to leave? I was hopin’ you’d be able to stay, at least a bit longer...”
Donna reached up and began to loosen his tie, sliding it from around his neck. She unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt and kissed the hollow of his throat before murmuring, “Oh, I’m not leaving, Policeman. I remember a promise about the couch, the bed, maybe the floor?” She smiled against his skin, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and contemplated the possibilities her words contained. “The kitchen table was a bonus. As will be the shower, unless you dawdle about.”
Peter’s eyes widened as he watched her step back and reach behind to turn on the water in the shower. Her eyes never left his as she held her hand under the resultant stream, deliberately raising it slightly so that rivulets ran down her arm, soaking the filmy material of her blouse. As the water slid down her arm, the fabric collapsed and molded itself to her body, caressing her skin and clinging to her left breast before slowly coursing down the length of her torso. She drew her hand from the water and ran her index finger over her bottom lip before letting her tongue play across the wet tip, grinning invitingly as she slipped it between her teeth.
Peter felt himself begin to harden again and he reached for her, slipping the remaining buttons of her blouse free before peeling it from her shoulders. The drenched garment fell to the floor and pooled at her feet as he dragged her back towards him. “I know it’s a weeknight,” he whispered, kissing down her neck, “but will you stay with me?”
“I don’t work tomorrow,” she sighed, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, all the while caressing his fine, taut chest. She dragged the shirt off him and tossed it out of the way before unfastening his trousers again. “But you....”
“I can be late,” he responded, anticipating her reply as he reached behind to unfasten her bra. He held her close as it came free and Donna shrugged, letting it slip to the floor between them. “It’s not a problem.”
“Well, then.” she replied, tugging at his pants as he toed off his socks. “Into the shower with you, Copper!” She stood back and grinned at her handiwork as he stood before her, naked.
He unfastened her skirt and let if fall to the floor, then dragged her slip down her hips. Donna was just as naked as he was, then, but she didn’t flinch or wince. “This is just gonna delay dinner that much more,” he breathed into her hair as he embraced her.
“That’s not what I’m hungry for right now...” she replied as she pulled his mouth down to hers and stepped back into the cascading water.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8.1 | Part 8.2 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12