Home Is Where the Heart Is [Snapshot #4]
Who_Daily Link: < a href="http://martha-dr-john.livejournal.com/7595.html">Home Is Where the Heart Is by < lj user=persiflage_1> (Characters: Martha/Dr John (Love in the 21st Century) | Rating: NC-17 | Spoilers: None)
Title: Home Is Where the Heart Is [Snapshot #4]
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Dr John (Cross-over with "Love in the 21st Century")
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Summary: Martha and Dr John spend their first night in their new shared home.
Disclaimer: I occasionally wish I did own it!
Author Notes: This is Part Four in a group of short pieces that will act as supplements to the main series in this ficverse. radiantbaby and I have decided to call these little detours "Snapshots" and, as implied, they will be ficlets that are dispersed throughout the timeline, filling in little gaps here and there.
This particular story is set between A Thousand Pieces [Snapshot #1] (by radiantbaby) and Trusting You (by me).
~~~~~~
John straightened up with a moan, rubbing at his lower back. "That's it then, we've officially finished unpacking."
"Good." Martha was lying prostrate on the floor in the sitting room, her eyes closed in weariness. It had taken them all day to unpack with the help of Jack, Ianto and Tish, who had all gone home about an hour ago with invitations to come back the following weekend for an official house-warming party.
"I hope you're not going to sleep down there," John said, looking down at his supine lover.
"Mmm."
He knelt down beside Martha and ran a finger lightly up her right leg from her ankle to the back of her knee, eliciting a whimper - but whether she was protesting or encouraging him, he wasn't certain. He hoped it wasn't a protest and he decided to see if he could get a more coherent response out of her, sliding his finger higher until it disappeared under the hem of her skirt.
"John."
"Yes Martha?"
"I don't think I can move." She opened her eyes and he saw a hint of mischief in them.
"Oh really?" he asked.
"Yeah. I'm feeling a bit limp."
"Well then I'll just have to see if I can stir you into action, won't I?" he asked, a teasing note in his voice.
"You can try." There was a note of challenge in her voice he noticed as her eyes closed again.
"I will." He parted her legs gently, pushing her skirt up at the front to expose her thong, then he ducked his head and carefully drew his tongue up the length of her slit, pressing the silk tightly against her folds.
He heard Martha give a pleasurable sigh, a sound he knew very well by now and which never failed to excite him. He began stroking her lightly through the silk as he moved around until he was kneeling between her parted legs. He unfastened his jeans one-handed, pulling his semi-hard cock free, then he bent forward and pushing Martha's thighs further apart, he kissed her sex, rubbing his nose against her clit.
"Oh god!" Martha's eyes had flown open and she lifted her head a little to see her lover on his knees between her spread legs; the sight aroused her still further and she wondered if John was going to make her come without even taking any of her clothes off.
Just as she wondered this, he sat back on his heels and smiled down at her: it was quite possibly the most wicked smile she'd ever seen gracing his features, and a shiver of anticipation ran through her body.
"Okay?" he asked softly.
"Oh yeah!"
"Good." He reached up and pulled her thong down, sliding it slowly and sensuously down her legs, causing Martha to whimper as his fingertips brushed against her already tingling skin. He dropped the thong to one side, then bent down again, his hands holding her open as he dragged his tongue agonisingly slowly up and down the edges of her sex.
"John!" she whimpered, feeling her arousal growing as he teased her.
"Martha?" he asked, his voice vibrating against her skin.
"Please."
"Please what?" He didn't move his mouth and she whimpered again.
"Please - " She couldn't seem to form a sentence.
He chuckled softly and she moaned, then moaned again as he lapped gently at her clit. They both knew that he was perfectly capable of teasing her for an hour together if the devil was in him, but fortunately for Martha's peace of mind he wasn't in such a teasing mood tonight. He slid a finger into her sex, cooing with pleasure at the wetness he found there, then he bent to his self-imposed task of bringing her to a shuddering climax. He hadn't told her yet, but he had formed a plan during the course of the day's unpacking, of 'christening' every room in their new flat with some form of sexual activity before they went to bed, and it was for that reason that he wasn't going to prolong his teasing now.
Martha moaned and writhed and whimpered beneath him as he used his long, slender fingers and talented tongue to wind her up to such a pitch of arousal that she lay shuddering and speechless for several long minutes after she came. He lay next to her on his side, his head resting on his left hand while his right lightly traced patterns across her belly as she came down from her orgasm.
"All right?" he asked softly when she finally opened her eyes.
"Definitely all right," she agreed, smiling up at him. She shifted towards him, reaching for his erection, but he captured her wrist before her hand got to its destination. She looked up into his face, clearly concerned.
"Not yet, not here," he told her.
"Why not?" she asked, confused.
"Because, Martha Jones," he said, leaning forward to kiss her. "I intend us to mark every room of our new territory, and we've already done this room."
She laughed softly. "You have the cutest ideas." She gave him a thoughtful look. "So where am I going to get you off?"
"Well I don't know about you, but I'm hungry - it's hours since those pizzas we had for lunch."
"Kitchen then."
They helped each other up from the floor and, leaving Martha's thong where John had dropped it, headed into the kitchen.
"I think we want something that's quick to prepare and not going to sit too heavily in our stomachs, don't you?" Martha asked as John sat down at the kitchen table. His jeans were still undone and his cock so rigid that she was practically salivating in anticipation of making him come.
"There's some soup in the fridge," he told her. "I took it out of the freezer first thing."
"You're - what is it the Americans say? A smart cookie," she told him, putting her hands on his shoulders and bending forward to kiss him. She could still taste herself on his mouth and she felt her desire growing again.
"And are you going to eat me up?" he asked, when she finally pulled free to catch her breath.
"Do you want me to?" she countered. "I thought you might enjoy bending me over the table and taking me hard from behind."
John moaned. "I - I don't think I could last that long," he confessed.
"We'll have to save that for another day, then," Martha said as she pushed his legs apart and knelt on the floor between them.
"Ye-yes," he stuttered as she lapped delicately at his tip, her left hand reaching down to cup his scrotum, while her right wrapped loosely around his shaft. He whimpered as she began to stroke him firmly as she ran her tongue down the underside of his erection.
"Please Martha!"
He wondered whether she was enjoying the fact that he was the one begging her now, as she had been begging him earlier. She looked up and he saw amusement dancing in her dark eyes, and knew she was aware of their role reversal. Fortunately, she was no more inclined to prolong the teasing than he had been, and it wasn't very long before he was shouting her name as his orgasm hit him.
Afterwards she climbed up into his lap and kissed his throat, then sucked on his Adam's apple, her hands running through his short hair.
"Thank you," he murmured.
"My pleasure," she assured him, wriggling a little to make herself more comfortable, and incidentally causing her skirt to ride further up her thighs.
John growled, sliding his hands up her legs and then grabbing her hips. "We need to eat something," he told her.
"If you say so." She gave him a wicked grin and wriggled again so that his cock was brushing against her entrance.
"I do say so," he told her. He stood up and when she tried to wrap her legs around his waist, he swung her down onto her feet instead. "Martha, be good for ten minutes, will you?"
Martha pouted. "Don't give me that look," he admonished. "You'll thank me later, I promise."
She heaved a melodramatic sigh. "Okay then."
"You're incorrigible," he told her, kissing the top of her forehead before tucking himself away and going to the fridge for the soup.
"Something about pots and kettles springs to mind," she said, smirking when he glanced up at her. She went to the cupboard to get out the crockery, then found some cutlery while John poured the soup into a saucepan to heat on the stove.
"Are we having bread with this?" he asked.
"There's a loaf of sun-dried tomato bread in the bread bin," she told him as she filled the kettle with water.
"Oooh nice." He opened the bread bin, then found the chopping board and the bread knife, and began to cut it into thick slices while pausing to stir the soup. After a few moments Martha took over stirring the soup, so John finished cutting up the bread which he then heaped onto a plate and set down on the table.
He stepped up behind Martha and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling the side of her neck.
"Happy?" she asked.
"Mmm, delirious, I'd say," he told her, his nuzzling becoming more insistent. He was growing aroused again and a part of him wanted to shag her senseless right there and then, but he knew that would spoil things later, so he restrained himself, albeit with difficulty.
"Delirious, eh? Perhaps I should give you an examination afterwards, check your symptoms?" she asked.
John groaned. "You, Dr Jones, will be the death of me."
Martha laughed. "I do hope not." She half-turned in his arms. "Soup's hot."
"So are you," he told her thickly.
"You're daft!"
He pulled away reluctantly. "I'm only speaking the truth," he said. "You are gorgeous and sexy and brilliant. I can't quite believe we're actually living together."
She arched her eyebrows up at him, then turned her attention to serving the soup. "Why not?"
He shrugged. "It just seems too good to be true. It's like a dream come true. When I think of all the hassles we've had finding somewhere, between your job and mine, and everything else."
"I thought we'd managed quite well," she said. "It's not every couple that manages to find somewhere and move in within a couple of months of deciding to live together, not when they're starting in a new place, rather than one moving into the other's flat."
"True." He sighed, then sat down. "I'll get used to it eventually."
"We both will," she said. "It'll become so normal that it won't even register any more."
He laughed softly. "I've a feeling living with you will never become 'normal', not when you chase aliens for a living."
Martha laughed too. "Normal for us, then," she said. "Now eat your soup."
"Ma'am." He mock-saluted her with his spoon, and she stuck her tongue out at him before beginning to eat.
They ate quickly, hungry from the day's exertions of unpacking boxes and shifting furniture, then they washed up.
"Dr Jones, would you care to accompany me?" asked John, offering her his hand once they'd finished.
She raised an eyebrow at his formality, and he suddenly leant forward and ran his tongue along the eyebrow, leaving her gaping in surprise.
"What was that for?" she asked.
He shrugged. "I love your eyebrows," he told her, "and that quizzical look you give me."
"You really are daft," she told him, then laughed when he pouted at her. "Come on, let's go and check out the bathroom."
He grinned wolfishly. "Now you're talking." He led the way into their bathroom, which was painted in shades of blue and yellow with seashells on the tiles, a large bath, big enough for the two of them, and a separate walk-in shower.
"Bath or shower?" asked Martha.
"Shower," John answered immediately as he began to undress her. Although he was already very aroused again, he took his time over getting Martha's clothes off, pausing to kiss or lick her skin, enjoying the scents and tastes that assaulted his senses, and the shivers of desire and anticipation that ran through her tiny frame.
By the time Martha was naked, she was whimpering and John was achingly hard, and he realised he'd been torturing himself as much as Martha.
"You, Dr MacLachlan, are a shameless tease," she whispered as she began to undress him in turn. "I ought to punish you for winding me up to such a state of arousal, but I suspect you've already punished yourself in the process."
He growled an agreement, and she looked up to see tension warring with desire in his face.
"Come on." She grabbed his hand and led him into the shower cubicle, waiting for him to shut the door before she turned on the water. She knew that neither of them was going to last very long, and she wasn't very surprised when he picked her up and pushed inside her ready heat.
"Oh god Martha!" he exclaimed as she tightened her muscles around his thrusting cock, her legs wrapped tightly around his body, and her arms around his neck. She was reminded, standing under the warm water, of the time they'd made love in an alley one summer evening, the rain pouring down over their heedless bodies, and in recollecting that she felt herself tumbling over the edge of her desire, her orgasm surging through her body.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck!" John gasped in anguish as his release swept through his body too, and he staggered against the wall of the shower cubicle, his legs trembling at the surge of energy that had swept through him.
He opened his eyes and found Martha regarding him through rivulets of water, her eyes alight with amusement and affection.
"Better?" she asked quietly. He could only nod for the moment, and she dipped her head to kiss him deeply, nipping at his bottom lip at intervals.
After a few moments he set Martha back down on her feet, and she picked up the shower gel and set about washing his chest and arms.
"You know one of the things I most look forward to now we're living together?" John asked as he lathered up his own hands to reciprocate.
"What's that?" she asked, shivering slightly as he began to wash her breasts.
"Shared showers or baths, and then snuggling up together afterwards, you in your flannel pyjamas and me in mine."
Martha laughed softly. "I don't actually own any flannel pyjamas, but I've got a couple of pairs of unsexy cotton ones, will they do?"
"Definitely," he agreed.
They finished showering, then dried each other off with two of their new bath towels, one of several house-warming gifts from Francine and Clive. Then John wrapped Martha in another towel and picked her up in his arms.
"I can walk you know!" she protested feebly.
"Of course you can," he answered, "but I want to carry you over the threshold of our room for our first night in it."
"You're such a romantic," she said softly, secretly very pleased by the idea.
"You only just worked that out Dr Jones?" he asked, teasingly.
Martha shook her head. "No, I've known for ages." She stretched her neck so she could kiss his cheek as he stepped into their room.
"So what comes next Dr M?" she asked as he set her down in the middle of their large bed.
"Well, I thought we might give each other a nice massage," he suggested.
"That does sound nice," she agreed, sitting up. "My massage oils are in the top right hand drawer of the dressing table."
While John got the box out of the drawer, Martha unwrapped the towel and spread it out to protect the bedding (another parental house warming gift). She accepted the box from him, then gestured for him to lie down.
"I thought I'd massage you first," he said.
"Whose oils are they?" she asked.
"Yours."
"Then I choose to give you a massage first." She waited while he stretched out on his stomach, then uncapped one of the bottles.
"Which one are you using?" asked John.
"You tell me," she said, pouring some into her hand and then rubbing her hands together to warm the oil before she began to massage his neck and shoulders.
"Mmm, Jasmine and Ylang-Ylang," he said, "I like that one."
"I know you do," Martha answered, moving her hands down to his shoulder blades.
"Seductive and erotic, just like you." He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder, desire obvious in his eyes.
"Lie still," she chided.
"Yes ma'am!"
Martha laughed softly at his response, massaging lower down his back. She'd picked this particular oil knowing that it was the most effective in stimulating them both - not that they needed much stimulation tonight, but it smelled nice too.
By the time she reached his buttocks, John was moaning softly and trying to stifle his urge to move: he desperately wanted to roll over, grab Martha and shag her, but he knew she'd get cross if he moved before she had finished.
Finally she sat back on her heels. "Finished."
"Thank god!" he exclaimed. "You've been driving me mad for at least five minutes." He rolled over and she smirked at the sight of his erection springing free.
"C'mere you!" he growled, pulled her towards him.
She giggled and allowed him to move her into position so that she was straddling him. They both moaned as she sank down his hard length, then she leaned forward, putting her hands either side of his shoulders and allowing his cock to almost slide out of her throbbing centre; her breasts brushed against John's chest and he moaned, then moaned a second time as she slid back down until he was buried inside her.
"You're a torturer," he whispered.
She smirked at him, then moved forwards again, faster this time, and dipped her head to give him a quick, hard kiss. He reached up and held her hips as she began to move backwards and forwards, moving faster each time, and as he felt his orgasm building, he moved a hand between their bodies until one long finger found her clit and began to stroke her in time to her movements on his cock.
"That feels good," she murmured, feeling her own orgasm beginning to build up, then it swept over her, and she moaned his name.
"Oh god, Martha!" John gasped as her muscles tightened around him, tipping him over the edge.
She slumped down on top of him, breathing heavily, and he wrapped his arms around her, stroking her back.
"All right?" he asked after a few moments.
Martha lifted her head and kissed him quickly. "I'm good."
He laughed. "Martha, you're better than good."
"You know what I mean," she protested.
"And you know I'm right," he answered.
She ducked her head down to his shoulder, embarrassed as usual by his compliments.
"Right, my turn to give you a massage now."
Martha rolled off him, and then stretched out on her belly, her head resting on her folded arms. She murmured appreciatively when John began to massage her neck and shoulders with long, firm strokes.
"Don't go to sleep on me," he reminded her. That had happened a couple of times when he'd given her a massage in the past, and normally he didn't mind, but tonight he wanted her to stay awake until he'd finished the massage.
"I won't."
Once John was satisfied that Martha's muscles were all fully relaxed, he got her turn onto her back and began to kiss a path up her body from her feet to her mouth, his own mouth skirting around her sex, although he knew she was aroused by the massage oil, just as he had been.
"You are such a gorgeous woman, and I can't tell you how happy it makes me to know that I'm going to be sharing even more with you from now on." He put his hands on either side of her head and looked down into her face, his own expression one of love and joy.
"I'm happy that you're happy," she said, sliding her arms around his neck, "and I'm happy to be living with you."
He ducked his head and kissed her, then began to kiss a path back down her body again. Martha moaned lightly when his tongue lapped at the edges of her sex, then groaned when he slid a finger inside her and began to stroke her carefully until she was squirming and gasping his name as her orgasm washed through her, leaving her trembling in its wake.
He crawled back up the bed beside her to kiss her, then he moved the towel off the bed before they snuggled up together.
"Do you want me to put my pyjamas on?" Martha asked sleepily.
John gave a snort of laughter. "Not unless you want to," he answered.
"Well you were the one who was going on about my unsexy pyjamas," she said with a giggle.
"I know. You're not cold are you?"
"Not at the moment."
"Then you can leave them off. I'll see you in them some other time."
"'kay." She settled more comfortably in his arms, and soon fell asleep. John stayed awake a little while longer, savouring the knowledge that they were now living together. He felt a little nervous about it, and he knew Martha did too, but he was determined they would be happy together. After a few more minutes, he fell asleep too, smiling at the prospect of sharing everything with Martha from now on.
Title: Home Is Where the Heart Is [Snapshot #4]
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Dr John (Cross-over with "Love in the 21st Century")
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Summary: Martha and Dr John spend their first night in their new shared home.
Disclaimer: I occasionally wish I did own it!
Author Notes: This is Part Four in a group of short pieces that will act as supplements to the main series in this ficverse. radiantbaby and I have decided to call these little detours "Snapshots" and, as implied, they will be ficlets that are dispersed throughout the timeline, filling in little gaps here and there.
This particular story is set between A Thousand Pieces [Snapshot #1] (by radiantbaby) and Trusting You (by me).
~~~~~~
John straightened up with a moan, rubbing at his lower back. "That's it then, we've officially finished unpacking."
"Good." Martha was lying prostrate on the floor in the sitting room, her eyes closed in weariness. It had taken them all day to unpack with the help of Jack, Ianto and Tish, who had all gone home about an hour ago with invitations to come back the following weekend for an official house-warming party.
"I hope you're not going to sleep down there," John said, looking down at his supine lover.
"Mmm."
He knelt down beside Martha and ran a finger lightly up her right leg from her ankle to the back of her knee, eliciting a whimper - but whether she was protesting or encouraging him, he wasn't certain. He hoped it wasn't a protest and he decided to see if he could get a more coherent response out of her, sliding his finger higher until it disappeared under the hem of her skirt.
"John."
"Yes Martha?"
"I don't think I can move." She opened her eyes and he saw a hint of mischief in them.
"Oh really?" he asked.
"Yeah. I'm feeling a bit limp."
"Well then I'll just have to see if I can stir you into action, won't I?" he asked, a teasing note in his voice.
"You can try." There was a note of challenge in her voice he noticed as her eyes closed again.
"I will." He parted her legs gently, pushing her skirt up at the front to expose her thong, then he ducked his head and carefully drew his tongue up the length of her slit, pressing the silk tightly against her folds.
He heard Martha give a pleasurable sigh, a sound he knew very well by now and which never failed to excite him. He began stroking her lightly through the silk as he moved around until he was kneeling between her parted legs. He unfastened his jeans one-handed, pulling his semi-hard cock free, then he bent forward and pushing Martha's thighs further apart, he kissed her sex, rubbing his nose against her clit.
"Oh god!" Martha's eyes had flown open and she lifted her head a little to see her lover on his knees between her spread legs; the sight aroused her still further and she wondered if John was going to make her come without even taking any of her clothes off.
Just as she wondered this, he sat back on his heels and smiled down at her: it was quite possibly the most wicked smile she'd ever seen gracing his features, and a shiver of anticipation ran through her body.
"Okay?" he asked softly.
"Oh yeah!"
"Good." He reached up and pulled her thong down, sliding it slowly and sensuously down her legs, causing Martha to whimper as his fingertips brushed against her already tingling skin. He dropped the thong to one side, then bent down again, his hands holding her open as he dragged his tongue agonisingly slowly up and down the edges of her sex.
"John!" she whimpered, feeling her arousal growing as he teased her.
"Martha?" he asked, his voice vibrating against her skin.
"Please."
"Please what?" He didn't move his mouth and she whimpered again.
"Please - " She couldn't seem to form a sentence.
He chuckled softly and she moaned, then moaned again as he lapped gently at her clit. They both knew that he was perfectly capable of teasing her for an hour together if the devil was in him, but fortunately for Martha's peace of mind he wasn't in such a teasing mood tonight. He slid a finger into her sex, cooing with pleasure at the wetness he found there, then he bent to his self-imposed task of bringing her to a shuddering climax. He hadn't told her yet, but he had formed a plan during the course of the day's unpacking, of 'christening' every room in their new flat with some form of sexual activity before they went to bed, and it was for that reason that he wasn't going to prolong his teasing now.
Martha moaned and writhed and whimpered beneath him as he used his long, slender fingers and talented tongue to wind her up to such a pitch of arousal that she lay shuddering and speechless for several long minutes after she came. He lay next to her on his side, his head resting on his left hand while his right lightly traced patterns across her belly as she came down from her orgasm.
"All right?" he asked softly when she finally opened her eyes.
"Definitely all right," she agreed, smiling up at him. She shifted towards him, reaching for his erection, but he captured her wrist before her hand got to its destination. She looked up into his face, clearly concerned.
"Not yet, not here," he told her.
"Why not?" she asked, confused.
"Because, Martha Jones," he said, leaning forward to kiss her. "I intend us to mark every room of our new territory, and we've already done this room."
She laughed softly. "You have the cutest ideas." She gave him a thoughtful look. "So where am I going to get you off?"
"Well I don't know about you, but I'm hungry - it's hours since those pizzas we had for lunch."
"Kitchen then."
They helped each other up from the floor and, leaving Martha's thong where John had dropped it, headed into the kitchen.
"I think we want something that's quick to prepare and not going to sit too heavily in our stomachs, don't you?" Martha asked as John sat down at the kitchen table. His jeans were still undone and his cock so rigid that she was practically salivating in anticipation of making him come.
"There's some soup in the fridge," he told her. "I took it out of the freezer first thing."
"You're - what is it the Americans say? A smart cookie," she told him, putting her hands on his shoulders and bending forward to kiss him. She could still taste herself on his mouth and she felt her desire growing again.
"And are you going to eat me up?" he asked, when she finally pulled free to catch her breath.
"Do you want me to?" she countered. "I thought you might enjoy bending me over the table and taking me hard from behind."
John moaned. "I - I don't think I could last that long," he confessed.
"We'll have to save that for another day, then," Martha said as she pushed his legs apart and knelt on the floor between them.
"Ye-yes," he stuttered as she lapped delicately at his tip, her left hand reaching down to cup his scrotum, while her right wrapped loosely around his shaft. He whimpered as she began to stroke him firmly as she ran her tongue down the underside of his erection.
"Please Martha!"
He wondered whether she was enjoying the fact that he was the one begging her now, as she had been begging him earlier. She looked up and he saw amusement dancing in her dark eyes, and knew she was aware of their role reversal. Fortunately, she was no more inclined to prolong the teasing than he had been, and it wasn't very long before he was shouting her name as his orgasm hit him.
Afterwards she climbed up into his lap and kissed his throat, then sucked on his Adam's apple, her hands running through his short hair.
"Thank you," he murmured.
"My pleasure," she assured him, wriggling a little to make herself more comfortable, and incidentally causing her skirt to ride further up her thighs.
John growled, sliding his hands up her legs and then grabbing her hips. "We need to eat something," he told her.
"If you say so." She gave him a wicked grin and wriggled again so that his cock was brushing against her entrance.
"I do say so," he told her. He stood up and when she tried to wrap her legs around his waist, he swung her down onto her feet instead. "Martha, be good for ten minutes, will you?"
Martha pouted. "Don't give me that look," he admonished. "You'll thank me later, I promise."
She heaved a melodramatic sigh. "Okay then."
"You're incorrigible," he told her, kissing the top of her forehead before tucking himself away and going to the fridge for the soup.
"Something about pots and kettles springs to mind," she said, smirking when he glanced up at her. She went to the cupboard to get out the crockery, then found some cutlery while John poured the soup into a saucepan to heat on the stove.
"Are we having bread with this?" he asked.
"There's a loaf of sun-dried tomato bread in the bread bin," she told him as she filled the kettle with water.
"Oooh nice." He opened the bread bin, then found the chopping board and the bread knife, and began to cut it into thick slices while pausing to stir the soup. After a few moments Martha took over stirring the soup, so John finished cutting up the bread which he then heaped onto a plate and set down on the table.
He stepped up behind Martha and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling the side of her neck.
"Happy?" she asked.
"Mmm, delirious, I'd say," he told her, his nuzzling becoming more insistent. He was growing aroused again and a part of him wanted to shag her senseless right there and then, but he knew that would spoil things later, so he restrained himself, albeit with difficulty.
"Delirious, eh? Perhaps I should give you an examination afterwards, check your symptoms?" she asked.
John groaned. "You, Dr Jones, will be the death of me."
Martha laughed. "I do hope not." She half-turned in his arms. "Soup's hot."
"So are you," he told her thickly.
"You're daft!"
He pulled away reluctantly. "I'm only speaking the truth," he said. "You are gorgeous and sexy and brilliant. I can't quite believe we're actually living together."
She arched her eyebrows up at him, then turned her attention to serving the soup. "Why not?"
He shrugged. "It just seems too good to be true. It's like a dream come true. When I think of all the hassles we've had finding somewhere, between your job and mine, and everything else."
"I thought we'd managed quite well," she said. "It's not every couple that manages to find somewhere and move in within a couple of months of deciding to live together, not when they're starting in a new place, rather than one moving into the other's flat."
"True." He sighed, then sat down. "I'll get used to it eventually."
"We both will," she said. "It'll become so normal that it won't even register any more."
He laughed softly. "I've a feeling living with you will never become 'normal', not when you chase aliens for a living."
Martha laughed too. "Normal for us, then," she said. "Now eat your soup."
"Ma'am." He mock-saluted her with his spoon, and she stuck her tongue out at him before beginning to eat.
They ate quickly, hungry from the day's exertions of unpacking boxes and shifting furniture, then they washed up.
"Dr Jones, would you care to accompany me?" asked John, offering her his hand once they'd finished.
She raised an eyebrow at his formality, and he suddenly leant forward and ran his tongue along the eyebrow, leaving her gaping in surprise.
"What was that for?" she asked.
He shrugged. "I love your eyebrows," he told her, "and that quizzical look you give me."
"You really are daft," she told him, then laughed when he pouted at her. "Come on, let's go and check out the bathroom."
He grinned wolfishly. "Now you're talking." He led the way into their bathroom, which was painted in shades of blue and yellow with seashells on the tiles, a large bath, big enough for the two of them, and a separate walk-in shower.
"Bath or shower?" asked Martha.
"Shower," John answered immediately as he began to undress her. Although he was already very aroused again, he took his time over getting Martha's clothes off, pausing to kiss or lick her skin, enjoying the scents and tastes that assaulted his senses, and the shivers of desire and anticipation that ran through her tiny frame.
By the time Martha was naked, she was whimpering and John was achingly hard, and he realised he'd been torturing himself as much as Martha.
"You, Dr MacLachlan, are a shameless tease," she whispered as she began to undress him in turn. "I ought to punish you for winding me up to such a state of arousal, but I suspect you've already punished yourself in the process."
He growled an agreement, and she looked up to see tension warring with desire in his face.
"Come on." She grabbed his hand and led him into the shower cubicle, waiting for him to shut the door before she turned on the water. She knew that neither of them was going to last very long, and she wasn't very surprised when he picked her up and pushed inside her ready heat.
"Oh god Martha!" he exclaimed as she tightened her muscles around his thrusting cock, her legs wrapped tightly around his body, and her arms around his neck. She was reminded, standing under the warm water, of the time they'd made love in an alley one summer evening, the rain pouring down over their heedless bodies, and in recollecting that she felt herself tumbling over the edge of her desire, her orgasm surging through her body.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck!" John gasped in anguish as his release swept through his body too, and he staggered against the wall of the shower cubicle, his legs trembling at the surge of energy that had swept through him.
He opened his eyes and found Martha regarding him through rivulets of water, her eyes alight with amusement and affection.
"Better?" she asked quietly. He could only nod for the moment, and she dipped her head to kiss him deeply, nipping at his bottom lip at intervals.
After a few moments he set Martha back down on her feet, and she picked up the shower gel and set about washing his chest and arms.
"You know one of the things I most look forward to now we're living together?" John asked as he lathered up his own hands to reciprocate.
"What's that?" she asked, shivering slightly as he began to wash her breasts.
"Shared showers or baths, and then snuggling up together afterwards, you in your flannel pyjamas and me in mine."
Martha laughed softly. "I don't actually own any flannel pyjamas, but I've got a couple of pairs of unsexy cotton ones, will they do?"
"Definitely," he agreed.
They finished showering, then dried each other off with two of their new bath towels, one of several house-warming gifts from Francine and Clive. Then John wrapped Martha in another towel and picked her up in his arms.
"I can walk you know!" she protested feebly.
"Of course you can," he answered, "but I want to carry you over the threshold of our room for our first night in it."
"You're such a romantic," she said softly, secretly very pleased by the idea.
"You only just worked that out Dr Jones?" he asked, teasingly.
Martha shook her head. "No, I've known for ages." She stretched her neck so she could kiss his cheek as he stepped into their room.
"So what comes next Dr M?" she asked as he set her down in the middle of their large bed.
"Well, I thought we might give each other a nice massage," he suggested.
"That does sound nice," she agreed, sitting up. "My massage oils are in the top right hand drawer of the dressing table."
While John got the box out of the drawer, Martha unwrapped the towel and spread it out to protect the bedding (another parental house warming gift). She accepted the box from him, then gestured for him to lie down.
"I thought I'd massage you first," he said.
"Whose oils are they?" she asked.
"Yours."
"Then I choose to give you a massage first." She waited while he stretched out on his stomach, then uncapped one of the bottles.
"Which one are you using?" asked John.
"You tell me," she said, pouring some into her hand and then rubbing her hands together to warm the oil before she began to massage his neck and shoulders.
"Mmm, Jasmine and Ylang-Ylang," he said, "I like that one."
"I know you do," Martha answered, moving her hands down to his shoulder blades.
"Seductive and erotic, just like you." He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder, desire obvious in his eyes.
"Lie still," she chided.
"Yes ma'am!"
Martha laughed softly at his response, massaging lower down his back. She'd picked this particular oil knowing that it was the most effective in stimulating them both - not that they needed much stimulation tonight, but it smelled nice too.
By the time she reached his buttocks, John was moaning softly and trying to stifle his urge to move: he desperately wanted to roll over, grab Martha and shag her, but he knew she'd get cross if he moved before she had finished.
Finally she sat back on her heels. "Finished."
"Thank god!" he exclaimed. "You've been driving me mad for at least five minutes." He rolled over and she smirked at the sight of his erection springing free.
"C'mere you!" he growled, pulled her towards him.
She giggled and allowed him to move her into position so that she was straddling him. They both moaned as she sank down his hard length, then she leaned forward, putting her hands either side of his shoulders and allowing his cock to almost slide out of her throbbing centre; her breasts brushed against John's chest and he moaned, then moaned a second time as she slid back down until he was buried inside her.
"You're a torturer," he whispered.
She smirked at him, then moved forwards again, faster this time, and dipped her head to give him a quick, hard kiss. He reached up and held her hips as she began to move backwards and forwards, moving faster each time, and as he felt his orgasm building, he moved a hand between their bodies until one long finger found her clit and began to stroke her in time to her movements on his cock.
"That feels good," she murmured, feeling her own orgasm beginning to build up, then it swept over her, and she moaned his name.
"Oh god, Martha!" John gasped as her muscles tightened around him, tipping him over the edge.
She slumped down on top of him, breathing heavily, and he wrapped his arms around her, stroking her back.
"All right?" he asked after a few moments.
Martha lifted her head and kissed him quickly. "I'm good."
He laughed. "Martha, you're better than good."
"You know what I mean," she protested.
"And you know I'm right," he answered.
She ducked her head down to his shoulder, embarrassed as usual by his compliments.
"Right, my turn to give you a massage now."
Martha rolled off him, and then stretched out on her belly, her head resting on her folded arms. She murmured appreciatively when John began to massage her neck and shoulders with long, firm strokes.
"Don't go to sleep on me," he reminded her. That had happened a couple of times when he'd given her a massage in the past, and normally he didn't mind, but tonight he wanted her to stay awake until he'd finished the massage.
"I won't."
Once John was satisfied that Martha's muscles were all fully relaxed, he got her turn onto her back and began to kiss a path up her body from her feet to her mouth, his own mouth skirting around her sex, although he knew she was aroused by the massage oil, just as he had been.
"You are such a gorgeous woman, and I can't tell you how happy it makes me to know that I'm going to be sharing even more with you from now on." He put his hands on either side of her head and looked down into her face, his own expression one of love and joy.
"I'm happy that you're happy," she said, sliding her arms around his neck, "and I'm happy to be living with you."
He ducked his head and kissed her, then began to kiss a path back down her body again. Martha moaned lightly when his tongue lapped at the edges of her sex, then groaned when he slid a finger inside her and began to stroke her carefully until she was squirming and gasping his name as her orgasm washed through her, leaving her trembling in its wake.
He crawled back up the bed beside her to kiss her, then he moved the towel off the bed before they snuggled up together.
"Do you want me to put my pyjamas on?" Martha asked sleepily.
John gave a snort of laughter. "Not unless you want to," he answered.
"Well you were the one who was going on about my unsexy pyjamas," she said with a giggle.
"I know. You're not cold are you?"
"Not at the moment."
"Then you can leave them off. I'll see you in them some other time."
"'kay." She settled more comfortably in his arms, and soon fell asleep. John stayed awake a little while longer, savouring the knowledge that they were now living together. He felt a little nervous about it, and he knew Martha did too, but he was determined they would be happy together. After a few more minutes, he fell asleep too, smiling at the prospect of sharing everything with Martha from now on.