Bad Pain, Doctor Who Fic
Title: Bad Pain
Author: The_Laughing_Duchess
Pairing: Martha/Ten
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Nothing specific, could be set anywhere during series three.
Disclaimer: They belong to the BBC and Russell T. Davies, not to me.
Author Notes: This is not the Ten/Rose reunion fic I've been promising, I'm still working on that and it should be up shortly. This is a dark!fic exploring the cold and angry side we’ve been seeing from Ten this season. It was inspired by the people who keep talking about the Doctor treating Martha badly. I don't agree with them, but I wanted to explore the notion of him taking advantage of her. Obviously, I took it to an extreme here. I'm nervous about posting this as it isn't the way I really see the The Doctor or Martha and it is very different from the other things that I've written.
This was quickly written and I didn’t have it beta'd. Any mistakes are mine. If you see any glaring errors (I have less than stellar grammar) please let me know. Feedback is welcome.
***
In BDSM bad pain is pain that is outside hard limits, non-mutual, not wished for, and of limited or no value.
***
He was using her and he knew it.
He only came to her in the middle of her sleep cycles, taking advantage of her when her defenses were lowered. It was the only way he could just take what he needed.
He never asked her what she thought about it.
At the moment, she was squirming underneath him, her legs spreading wider and her hips tilting upwards as her eyes sought his in the darkness. He looked away, not wanting to think about soft brown eyes while he was doing this.
She curled into him and her mouth was suddenly hot and wet against his collarbone. She drew back and stretched up for his lips, but he kept out of reach.
He’d kissed her enough tonight.
Her hands clutched at him and they felt so wrong on his skin that he came close to slapping them away. He ended up flipping her over and pulling her onto all fours before leaning over her body and drawing her hands up to the metal bar of her headboard.
“Hold it.”
Her fingers wrapped around it and she tipped her head back to capture his mouth with her own. She licked at his lips but he kept his mouth shut and simply tangled his hand in her hair. He pulled back and looked at her, her head angled oddly, her eyes and mouth open and eager. She so desperately wanted to please him. He gripped her head with his fingers and turned her face forcefully back down towards the mattress. It might have been rougher than he’d intended.
He put his mouth next to her ear, his breath hot against her.
“Don’t move or I’ll stop.” He threatened lowly.
She nodded and then moaned when he entered her.
He bit back a laugh. She still thought this was a game, still thought she could crack his soul open and save him. She’d learn soon enough, though. They all did, eventually.
He roughly thrust into her again and closed his eyes as his fingers gripped her neck tightly. He was sure they would leave a mark that she’d moon over later.
Her body seemed tense underneath him and he rose up so he could look down at the muscles rippling in her back. She was lurching forward from the force of each stroke, but wasn't resisting at all. He dug his fingers deeply into her hips and began to thrust harder and harder and then harder still. He watched her carefully and was surprised. No matter how harshly he fucked her, she still didn't flinch. He picked up the pace.
He wanted her to flinch.
Minutes later he found his release and rolled off her, collapsing down to the soft mattress beneath them. After a bit, he turned his head to look at her.
She hadn’t moved.
He could see that her eyes were clenched shut and her mouth was hanging open. There were tears falling onto the pillow beneath her. Her hands still clutched the bar.
He knew he had hurt her. He knew he should gather her in his arms and murmur soothing words until she believed he was sorry. He knew that he owed her that much.
His hand reached out to cover hers and he pulled it gently from the metal.
“You can let go now.”
Her other hand slipped off the bar and she rolled onto her side, facing away from him.
He watched her back for a long time. Watched it shake and then expand and contract with her distressed breathing. He knew what she wanted him to do.
Trouble was he no longer could.
He stood up and pulled on his clothes before walking around the bed to look at her. After a second, he ran his hand lightly over her hair. She kept staring straight ahead, her eyes shining with tears. He leaned down and pressed his lips softly to her forehead.
She flinched.
He pulled back and looked down at her, wishing for the millionth time that she was someone else.
Or maybe that he was.
He walked out the door, her soft cries following him as he made his way down the hall.
Once upon a time, he’d been a better man.
Author: The_Laughing_Duchess
Pairing: Martha/Ten
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Nothing specific, could be set anywhere during series three.
Disclaimer: They belong to the BBC and Russell T. Davies, not to me.
Author Notes: This is not the Ten/Rose reunion fic I've been promising, I'm still working on that and it should be up shortly. This is a dark!fic exploring the cold and angry side we’ve been seeing from Ten this season. It was inspired by the people who keep talking about the Doctor treating Martha badly. I don't agree with them, but I wanted to explore the notion of him taking advantage of her. Obviously, I took it to an extreme here. I'm nervous about posting this as it isn't the way I really see the The Doctor or Martha and it is very different from the other things that I've written.
This was quickly written and I didn’t have it beta'd. Any mistakes are mine. If you see any glaring errors (I have less than stellar grammar) please let me know. Feedback is welcome.
***
In BDSM bad pain is pain that is outside hard limits, non-mutual, not wished for, and of limited or no value.
***
He was using her and he knew it.
He only came to her in the middle of her sleep cycles, taking advantage of her when her defenses were lowered. It was the only way he could just take what he needed.
He never asked her what she thought about it.
At the moment, she was squirming underneath him, her legs spreading wider and her hips tilting upwards as her eyes sought his in the darkness. He looked away, not wanting to think about soft brown eyes while he was doing this.
She curled into him and her mouth was suddenly hot and wet against his collarbone. She drew back and stretched up for his lips, but he kept out of reach.
He’d kissed her enough tonight.
Her hands clutched at him and they felt so wrong on his skin that he came close to slapping them away. He ended up flipping her over and pulling her onto all fours before leaning over her body and drawing her hands up to the metal bar of her headboard.
“Hold it.”
Her fingers wrapped around it and she tipped her head back to capture his mouth with her own. She licked at his lips but he kept his mouth shut and simply tangled his hand in her hair. He pulled back and looked at her, her head angled oddly, her eyes and mouth open and eager. She so desperately wanted to please him. He gripped her head with his fingers and turned her face forcefully back down towards the mattress. It might have been rougher than he’d intended.
He put his mouth next to her ear, his breath hot against her.
“Don’t move or I’ll stop.” He threatened lowly.
She nodded and then moaned when he entered her.
He bit back a laugh. She still thought this was a game, still thought she could crack his soul open and save him. She’d learn soon enough, though. They all did, eventually.
He roughly thrust into her again and closed his eyes as his fingers gripped her neck tightly. He was sure they would leave a mark that she’d moon over later.
Her body seemed tense underneath him and he rose up so he could look down at the muscles rippling in her back. She was lurching forward from the force of each stroke, but wasn't resisting at all. He dug his fingers deeply into her hips and began to thrust harder and harder and then harder still. He watched her carefully and was surprised. No matter how harshly he fucked her, she still didn't flinch. He picked up the pace.
He wanted her to flinch.
Minutes later he found his release and rolled off her, collapsing down to the soft mattress beneath them. After a bit, he turned his head to look at her.
She hadn’t moved.
He could see that her eyes were clenched shut and her mouth was hanging open. There were tears falling onto the pillow beneath her. Her hands still clutched the bar.
He knew he had hurt her. He knew he should gather her in his arms and murmur soothing words until she believed he was sorry. He knew that he owed her that much.
His hand reached out to cover hers and he pulled it gently from the metal.
“You can let go now.”
Her other hand slipped off the bar and she rolled onto her side, facing away from him.
He watched her back for a long time. Watched it shake and then expand and contract with her distressed breathing. He knew what she wanted him to do.
Trouble was he no longer could.
He stood up and pulled on his clothes before walking around the bed to look at her. After a second, he ran his hand lightly over her hair. She kept staring straight ahead, her eyes shining with tears. He leaned down and pressed his lips softly to her forehead.
She flinched.
He pulled back and looked down at her, wishing for the millionth time that she was someone else.
Or maybe that he was.
He walked out the door, her soft cries following him as he made his way down the hall.
Once upon a time, he’d been a better man.