Three Words, Part 1/1
Title: Three Words
Author: radiantbaby
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Dr. John [Note: Dr. John was a David Tennant character in the “Reproduction” episode of “Love in the 21st Century”]
Word Count: 9059 [in Word]
Genre: Crossover, Romance, Fluff, AU[ish]
Rating: NC-17, like very
Spoilers: Post S3, pre-Unit Martha
Summary: Dr. John tries to get Martha to say three words - and they are not what you think. In a nutshell? Martha meets a doctor who is a doppelganger for another Doctor in her life, romance ensues. Crossover of Doctor Who and “Love in the 21st Century”
Beta: The uber-wonderful persiflage_1!
Disclaimer: All your Doctor Who are belong to us Sadly, I own nothing related to Doctor Who et al, nor do I own anything related to “Love in the 21st Century” - I am just playing around in their sandbox for a bit of fun.
Author Notes: Okay so I turned persiflage_1 onto “Love in the 21st Century” last weekend and it sparked a conversation between us about how Dr. John [he of no last name -- had to get creative in the fic!] and Martha would make a smoking-hawt couple. Dr. John, of course, has Tennant’s good looks in his corner and, while he only graced our screen for about ten minutes, his charisma, charm, and sexiness have left a lasting impression on many a fan. On a bit of a whim [and dare from persiflage_1], I decided to give a fic between the two of them a go. It was hard finding John’s voice and fleshing out a bit of backstory for him, so I hope that I did all right with the challenge. Thanks so much as always to the magnificent persiflage_1 who beta’d [and instigated] this piece - this is dedicated to you! Any other mistakes are all mine. Feedback is happy-making, so please leave a word or two [even if I am a bit slack in responding, your comments always make my day].
===
Martha was tired. She was nearly qualified as a Doctor these days, but it wasn’t just the long hours late at night that were wearing her thin, but also the lack of sleep when she was at home.
Nightmares plagued her on an almost daily basis, her subconscious reliving that terrible year she walked the Earth and saw so many people killed. Nearly everyone in the world had forgotten about it due to the Doctor’s reversal of events and sometimes she wished she were one of them -
-- There they all were, blissfully going about day to day, completely unaware of the dangers that lurked around every corner, unaware of what it was like to watch so many people die or experience that terrible smell of burning bodies that never seemed to get out of her clothes, of what it was like to wear a necklace making you invisible when you had been fighting so hard to no longer be unseen by the man you loved for months before, of so much endless running and running and running --
Martha sat in the small staff canteen at Royal Hope, contemplating the cup of tea in front of her on the table. Her hands were wrapped around it, but the warmth of it was gone by the time her thoughts were jarred back to the present when she heard the mechanism of the vending machine in the room.
She looked up to see a man, pulling a bag of crisps from the machine, and her heart nearly stopped when he turned to her and gave a sweet smile.
The world seemed to be spinning out of control beneath her and she gripped tightly to her mug as if it might anchor her.
“D-doctor?” she stammered, wearily, her ears ringing before her head fell forward and she was knocked unconscious by it hitting the table.
---
Martha was holding the Doctor’s hand, running across lush fields of red grass under a burnt orange sky. The two of them stumbled, falling to the ground laughing before he silenced her by rolling over to kiss her sweetly on the mouth.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispered and it sounded like the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. Her heart felt as if it was going to burst with joy into a million pieces and then suddenly he was gone.
“Martha?” she could hear him, calling out for her.
“I’m here, Doctor, I am here.”
“Martha?”
“Martha?” the voice was suddenly louder and her thoughts crystallized as she became conscious again, she opened her eyes to see another pair of soft brown eyes looking at her with concern.
She was a little startled when she suddenly felt a cold liquid drip down the side of her face, but realized that the man she had seen by the vending machine was holding a cloth with ice in it against the left side of her forehead. “There you are. Martha, look at me, I need to see your eyes,” he said softly.
She looked at him, but was also trying to analyze everything around her. Things were still somewhat hazy, but she could see the table that had been in front of her had been pushed aside and this man was crouching down in front of her as she leaned against the back of the chair.
“It looks like you might have a mild concussion from your head hitting the table, I’m afraid,” he peered intensely at her, his mouth slightly open and his tongue pressed against the back of his top row of teeth. He then reached down with his free hand to lightly hold her wrist, testing the pulse there with his fingers. “And your pulse is somewhat thready.”
Martha just stared at the man before her. He looked so much like the Doctor, but there was something in his manner that seemed as if he didn’t even know who she was. She began to look at the little details - noticing that his hair was different (shorter, especially around the sides, and no long sideburns), that he looked slightly younger (physically speaking), and - even more bizarrely to her - he was wearing a white lab coat with a hint of a brown v-neck jumper beneath it and jeans.
He also - she noticed as he spoke to her softly about how she had fallen forward and hit her head, then asked how long it had been since she slept or ate, and said he wanted a better look at her - had a Scottish accent.
“Doctor?”
“Yes?” he replied with a smile that lit up his whole face.
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s alright. You are a bit disoriented, but then I’m sure you know that is normal in this type of situation,” he said, gesturing to her name badge clipped on her own lab coat, identifying her as a medical student.
Pointing at her badge suddenly reminded her to look to see if he had one as well. She looked down and saw it clipped on his pocket: Dr. John MacLachlan.
“Dr. John MacLachlan,” she murmured, reading it aloud, and then looked back up at him, still confused.
“That’s me, but you can call me John,” he said, smiling again and standing up, “Now, let’s get you over to my office, so I can get a better look at you.”
Martha started to stand, but a wave of dizziness hit her, causing her to sit back down. “Here,” he leaned forward over her and she inhaled the soft scent of him, noting that he smelled like a spicy mixture of musk, cinnamon, and a very faint hint of tobacco. “Put your arms around my neck.”
Martha obeyed, reaching around his neck and letting him pull her to her feet. Once standing she slipped her arms down to press her palms against his chest for balance and tried to not blush too much when he wrapped an arm around her and started to slowly walk her out of the room.
---
“Who is your supervisor? I can give them a call if you need,” John asked after doing a few small tests to make sure she was all right as she sat on the small sofa in his office.
“Dr. Blake, but it’s okay, I am off-duty. I was just in the canteen trying to have some tea to wake me up a bit before heading home.”
“Well, I did notice the cup was still full on the table,” he said, shaking his finger at her, giving her a playful reprimand, “Perhaps I should get you some fresh tea, yeah?”
“You don’t have to,” Martha countered, feeling uncomfortable with someone taking such care of her. She’d been so independent for so long, that such things felt awkward. “It’s okay, really.”
“Well, I should grab my bag of crisps I left there anyway, so it’s no bother. I’ll be right back,” he said sweetly, and then walked out of the office.
Martha leaned back on the couch, trying to take in the strange occurrence. Part of her thought she might just be dreaming - she had just been so tired, she almost barely knew what was going on anymore. Since she left the Doctor, she had thrown herself into her work and completing her medical studies. In fact, it seemed that recently that had been her whole life - sleep, study, work, sleep, study, work.
Her family had scolded her a few times about her lack of an “outside” life, but they also knew that she had been grieving and, while they wanted her to be happy, they also knew she had to come to terms with the events of the Year that Never Was as much as they had to. Sometimes they would ask if she’d “met anyone” yet and she hated to tell them of the string of failed dates that lay in her wake, so she just told them she was too busy.
She was starting to feel lost and the prospect of phoning the Doctor on her old mobile was becoming more and more tempting with every day that passed. Martha closed her eyes, hoping for a moment that all the stress would just dissipate and things might all revert back to normal, like they were before she met the Doctor.
“Taking a nap?” A soft voice caused Martha to open her eyes. John walked into the room, tossing his crisps onto his desk before sitting down beside her, holding out a cup of tea for her. “Do you need any sugar or milk?”
“Sugar, please.”
John reached into his pocket, pulled out a few packets of sugar, and handed them to her as well, once she took the cup from his hand.
“It’s a very comfortable sofa. I actually slept on it myself on my first night here,” he added with a laugh. “Have you not been sleeping well? I know that when I was still a student, I barely slept. Not that things are much better these days, but when I was studying for exams...well, I think I barely slept more than a few hours at a time.”
Martha added the sugar to her tea and then blew on it to cool it down. She didn’t want to talk about her lack of sleep because talking about it would inevitably lead to her talking about her nightmares and there was something about this doctor that made her feel as if she could tell him anything. No, she decided to keep the conversation casual instead.
“How long have you been here? I’m pretty sure that I’ve not seen you around here before.” In fact, she was very, very sure - a doppelganger for the Doctor would hardly go unnoticed by her, no matter how little sleep she’d had lately.
“Two days and still getting things set up, actually,” he gestured to a box on the floor by his desk, “I just transferred down from the North Manchester General Hospital.”
“You don’t sound like you’re from Manchester,” Martha commented sipping her tea.
John smiled widely, settling back further on the couch. “No, I’m from Glasgow, originally. I just went to medical school in Manchester and ended up staying there for a few years afterward.”
---
Two hours of excited conversation passed between the two of them before a wide yawn from Martha ceased the talking.
“I’m so sorry, I’ve been so rude. I’m probably keeping you from going home,” John said, his brow furrowed in concern. “Let me walk you to your car.”
“Actually, I generally take the tube,” Martha shrugged, “And it’s alright, I’ve really enjoyed our conversation.”
“Well, let me at least give you a ride home,” he offered, “I would at least feel better about you getting home after that knock on your head if I took you myself.”
Martha considered him for a moment. She was generally not one to consider getting a lift from a stranger, but this was a doctor at her hospital. Plus, in all her time of reading people in order to survive while crossing the Earth, she could tell that he was quite harmless.
“Okay,” Martha replied with a smile.
The two of them stood and John took off his lab coat, hung it on a peg in his office, and replaced it with a tan hooded coat. Then they walked, while chatting amiably, over to the staff locker room for Martha to trade in her own lab coat.
As Martha stuffed her lab coat in her locker, she tried to hide to the smile that nearly broke out on her face as she glanced over to John in the doorway, just leaning against the doorframe and watching her with his own sweet smile. Despite his resemblance to the Doctor, there was something so charming about his nature that put her at ease.
She finally pulled out her bag and her new grey jacket from the locker. Despite her mother saying the jacket had too many pockets, Tish told her it was very flattering to her figure. In this moment, due to Tish’s claims (whether they were true or false), she was happy that she was wearing it. Though it felt a bit puerile to her, she found that she wanted John to really notice her.
Martha turned back to John, putting her bag on her shoulder. “Ready.”
---
Martha and John were alone in the elevator when her belly rumbled somewhat loudly with hunger. John looked over at her with his eyebrow cocked, “When was the last time you ate, Ms. Jones?”
Martha leaned against the wall of the elevator, closing her eyes for a moment to think. “I honestly don’t remember,” she replied with a frown.
The elevator chimed and John led them through the lobby, saying goodbye to the staff there, and headed out to the carpark for his car. John then stopped abruptly as they were walking and turned to her. He was biting his lip for a moment, but then ran his hand through his spiky hair and took a deep breath. “Look, this may sound really forward and, God, I know that you’re tired, but I was wondering if perhaps you’d like to stop for a bite to eat with me on the way home?”
His tone was hopeful, yet nervous, and Martha just stared at him in surprise for a long moment. He seemed to take her silence as a rejection as he nervously added, “I’m being daft and inconsiderate, I know. You need your sleep. I’m just…I’m just a little worried about you. I think that it has been a long time since you’ve eaten and I just…” he trailed off, a slight panic in his eyes as he scratched the back of his neck. He looked down for a moment and then back at her. “I suppose I just didn’t want this morning…our conversation, I mean…to end.”
Martha smiled back at him, crossing her arms over her chest at she regarded him. “I could really do with some breakfast actually. I’d love to.” She was still playing her cards close to her chest, but she couldn’t help the butterflies starting to swarm in her belly at the thought that John seemed as if he might be interested in her.
---
John walked Martha to her front door. They had spent another hour or so chatting at breakfast before he said that he should get her home to finally get some rest.
“I feel much better after that, thanks,” Martha said to him with a smile as they stopped on the porch.
“My pleasure,” John said with big smile that reached his eyes and lit up his face.
“Well, I should probably go,” Martha nodding toward the door. “It’s been lovely, well, apart from the fainting and the concussion bit, that is. Thanks for all that.”
“Well, it’s not every day that I have a beautiful woman faint at the sight of me,” he said with a laugh, rubbing his nose with his knuckle.
Martha blushed, looking up into his deep brown eyes. There was such a bright enthusiasm for life she saw there, so different than the darkness she always saw pooled in the Doctor’s eyes. She then gasped as John leaned forward to press his lips softly against hers for a second.
John quickly leaned back, standing up straight, but looking down at his trainers, blushing. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s quite alright,” Martha said, smiling at him as he shyly moved to look at her again.
“Fancy dinner sometime? I’m still discovering the restaurants around here and I’d love some company.”
Martha looked at him. At first she wanted to decline his offer - not only had she been rubbish lately whenever she tried dating, but the fact that John looked so much like the Doctor also made her hesitant. Still, he seemed like one of the nicest blokes she met in a long time and she thought his resemblance to the Doctor shouldn’t be held against him.
“I’d love to.”
“Great!” he exclaimed, “I’ll see you tonight at the hospital.”
He smiled at her one last time and then made his way down the steps of her porch back to his car, waving to her before driving off.
---
Martha had been seeing John for a week when he invited her over to his flat for a homemade dinner. “I’m not the greatest chef,” he’d said nervously earlier when they were at work together, “but I do have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
The week with John had been really wonderful and Martha was starting to feel her heart lighten a bit. She found it hard to be depressed around John, honestly. While he was slightly manic like the Doctor, he seemed to channel it in more positive ways. He had a great sense of humor and was always making her laugh, sometimes to the point of tears running down her cheeks.
Each morning since they had met, they would have “dinner” together, even though it was probably technically breakfast, as it was early in the morning when their shifts ended. They would find what restaurants were open, sometimes even get in a spot of pool or have a pint or two, laughing about how it was like they were living in a parallel world from the people around them on such different schedules.
Martha had always felt a bit alienated by her hours at work, making it hard for her to keep up with family and friends or have relationships, but she was finding solace in the times she spent with John as he knew what it was like to work in medicine and how your schedule was always in flux and at the whim of your pager. He was always smiling, though, and he would joke how even if there were birds chirping outside your window in the morning light, you could still have a steak and a beer just as anyone else might after they got off work.
“What are you making?” Martha eased up beside John as he stood in front of the stove, stirring some food in a skillet.
He wrapped his free arm around her, snuggling her against his side, and Martha cooed a bit at the affection. The two of them had not done anything more than light kissing and a bit of cuddling in the cinema when they went to catch a film on their second date. Martha could tell that he wanted more, but he was being a gentleman and didn’t push her.
It had been a long time since she had been with a man - more than two years at least, by her reckoning - and she couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous about the prospect of moving things forward. She also had to admit that despite John’s constant compliments on how beautiful and smart she was, her ego had been so damaged by the Doctor’s lack of attention that she wasn’t entirely sure that she even believed him.
Still, as his hand drifted down from her shoulder to draw lazy circles across her lower back as he stirred the food, she was starting to feel her body respond to him more and more and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to wait much longer before being with him. In fact, as she felt the warmth of his body next to hers, she contemplated trying to seduce him that very day.
“Florentine Chicken,” John answered her query, looking down at her before turning his attention back to the chicken pieces that he was stirring in the skillet. “Have you ever had it?”
“That’s the pasta with spinach and chicken, right?”
“Yes, exactly right,” John leaned down and kissed Martha on the forehead, “which reminds me, I need to put the pasta on.”
He shifted away from her and then walked over and pulled a package from the refrigerator. He held it up to her, “I thought I might try it with some fresh, cheese-filled tortellini I picked up down at the market, what do you think?” He then reached in the refrigerator and retrieved another package with his free hand. “Or we could do it with fettuccine?”
“The tortellini sounds marvelous!” Martha replied with a smile.
“Excellent choice!” he replied, tossing the fettuccine back into the refrigerator and then pulling out a pot to cook it in. “I knew you had good taste,” he added with a wink.
“I’m here with you, aren’t I?” she replied with a wink back, feeling slightly awkward from her lack of practice with flirting.
“Yes, indeed you are,” John replied, kissing her quickly on the cheek before returning to his cooking.
---
“That was such a wonderful dinner, thanks!” Martha exclaimed, sitting down on his couch.
“Would you like more wine?” John called out from the kitchen.
“I probably shouldn’t.”
“Well, I’m going to have some more myself, I think. Two days off ahead for me, so I can afford to lay about a bit if I need to,” he replied, and she could hear him laughing to himself as he shuffled around his kitchen.
John had somehow pulled strings to shift his schedule to have the same two days off as Martha. She found the gesture extremely flattering and smiled a bit to herself at the plans they had made for the next two days - walks in the park, playing pool down at the pub (which he was really rather good at), movies at the cinema (which they could finally catch more of with their flexible hours)…
“You know what?” Martha called out, “I think I’ll have some more wine after all. It is rather good.”
“Great, let me tidy up in here for just a moment and I’ll be right there,” he said. Martha started to speak, but he seemed to anticipate her next question, “And no you can’t do anything to help, you’re my guest for the evening.”
Martha laughed, leaning her head back against the back of the couch. She started to take in the décor of the place, finding a moment to study his place while he was otherwise occupied. It was her first time there, after all, so she couldn’t help but be a bit curious.
Everything was relatively sparse as far as furnishings, but with the few boxes she spied in some of the corners of the place, she got the impression that he was still settling in. From her conversations with him over the past week, she found that he had actually started work the next day after moving there, so it was no surprise he was still unpacking.
What she did see were some shelves filled with stacks of CDs and DVDs, a few pictures on the fireplace mantle (which she made a note to have a closer look at later), a shelving unit full of books (many of which seemed to be medical books from the shape of them, but it seemed he also had other books as well), a large television set inside an cherry wood entertainment center, a coffee table also made of cherry wood, and two rather comfy looking large red sofas (one of which she was sitting on).
“Here you are,” John said, coming into the room and handing her a glass of the red wine they’d had at dinner. He then sat next to her on the sofa with his own glass. “You still want to see ‘High Fidelity’?”
“Yes, I’m looking forward to it.”
“Great,” John replied, leaning forward to grab the remote and turned on the television and the movie.
Martha snuggled into his side, drinking her wine, as John wrapped an arm around her.
---
Once the movie ended, they sat facing each other on the couch, and the conversation inevitably moved to the subject of relationships, obviously sparked by the subject matter of the film.
“I bet you’ve dated a million blokes, you probably have them on some waiting list, yeah?” John said to Martha with a tease.
“Oh I wish,” she said with a giggle, feeling a bit tipsy from the wine. “Hardly.”
“I just can’t imagine it, Martha, a stunning woman like you. I bet everyone in the world is in love with you,” he exclaimed with a laugh, but stopped when he noticed Martha’s expression had fallen.
She hadn’t meant to, but his words brought back thoughts of the Doctor, and as the pain of that rejection slammed into her, she couldn’t help the sadness that rose in her.
“Martha?” he caressed her foot that was at his side, “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” she took in a deep breath, pushing her feelings deep down as she always did, “just some bad memories.”
“What’s his name? I’ll give him a good talking to,” John asked playfully, though he’d obviously intuitively figured out she was upset over a past relationship.
Martha grabbed the wine bottle from the coffee table that John had brought in after the movie was over and refilled her glass. She took a deep swig of it, wiping drips of it from her lips. “He was a doctor too, you know, but different than us. Never even noticed I existed. It was really pathetic.”
“Pathetic on his side,” he countered, taking a moment to refill his own glass, “And he was obviously pretty daft.”
“You’re far too kind,” Martha said, taking another deep drink of her wine.
“It’s okay, Martha, we all have our horror stories,” John said, looking at her seriously, “It’s because we survive such things that we become stronger as people.”
John had obviously meant romantic relationships, but what he said resonated with Martha in regard to the other horrors that she’d been through, especially when walking to Earth. Despite any attempts at stopping them, tears began to prick her eyes and then slip down her cheeks.
“Oh, Martha,” he said softly, leaning over to put his glass on the coffee table and then taking hers from her hand to put it there as well. “Come here.”
Martha shifted and reticently moved to lie side by side with him. They lay with their backs against the arm of the couch and he wrapped his arms around her to hold her. She sobbed against him, unable to control the strong emotions welling within her as the alcohol sloshed in her brain. John simply sat there, caressing her back softly as she cried.
“I had a woman steal my sperm once,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “If that’s not a nightmare, I don’t know what is.”
Martha laughed despite herself. “Steal your sperm? How does that work?” she asked between her dwindling sobs.
“From a condom after sleeping with me, actually, used a turkey-baster and everything. She was trying to get pregnant. I’d only just met her too.”
Martha stopped crying and looked up at him, seeing a mixture of amusement and worry on his face. “Did she? I mean, did she get pregnant?”
“Yes,” he replied quietly. “Here I thought I had zero sperm count, but then somehow…I don’t really know what happened there, really. The whole situation was pretty bizarre.”
“Are you a…father then?” Martha asked him, watching his expression sadden and feeling his body tense up. It was the first time she had ever seen him remotely upset and her heart went out to him.
“No,” he said, almost even more softly, but then cleared his throat, beginning to speak more loudly. “The baby didn’t make it full-term. Fay, my ex, had all sorts of complications with the pregnancy.” He paused and then looked up at the ceiling, “It’s funny, I never fancied myself a dad and years ago back in medical school when I had found out I had a zero sperm count, I sort of gave up on the idea of ever being one, but just for those few months…I started to hope again.”
“Maybe one day you can try again?” Martha offered.
“Nah,” he looked back down at her and kissed her on the forehead, “That was just a strange fluke that she’d even got pregnant by me in the first place. One in a million chance and all that. Still,” he took in a deep breath, “I’ve made my peace with it. Mostly. Or at least when I don’t have pretty girls crying in my arms over lost dreams.”
Martha wrapped her arm around him. “Despite the whole stealing of my semen bit, Fay was actually a good woman,” he continued with a chuckle, reaching up to caress Martha’s hair, “Things were never the same after she lost the baby though. We split up just a few months later.”
“Because of the baby?”
“I’m not sure,” he shrugged, “I mean, she’d said that she didn’t really want a baby after confessing how she’d tried to impregnate herself, that her friends had just ‘got to her’ or some such. Then we found out she was pregnant and we decided to try and make a go of it between us. I think in the end we just grew apart. Also, I think she just didn’t understand that I wouldn’t be able to see her as much as she wanted me to with my schedule at the hospital. I’m sure you know how that is.”
“Yeah,” Martha replied, squeezing him around the waist. “I’m so sorry for your loss, John.”
John looked down at her for a long moment and then sighed deeply. “Look at me, bringing down the whole night,” he said nervously, “I can’t believe I just told you all that. I think I made a date faux pas. There’s just something about you, Martha,” he said, reaching down to caress her cheek, “I just want to tell you everything.”
“It’s okay,” she looked back up at him, closing her eyes in pleasure as he caressed her face, “I’m the one who was crying.”
He leaned down, kissing her eyes one by one, “Then we’re even.”
Martha opened her eyes again and suddenly felt the need growing within her to be with him. She wasn’t sure if it was all the wine she’d had making her bold, but she shifted her body to straddle his lap.
John gasped in surprised. “Martha?”
She leaned down and began kissing John’s neck, enjoying the moans it evoked as well as the growing hardness in his jeans beneath her. “I want you, John,” she whispered near his ear.
She then pulled back to look at him, watching the lump bob in his throat as he swallowed hard. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he whispered back.
“Of course, I’m sure,” she replied, her voice slightly slurred and her movements atop him somewhat unsteady.
“Martha,” he reached up and slid his hand into her hair, “I want you too, but not right now. Let’s sleep first.”
She looked down at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Did I do something wrong?” She was suddenly feeling vulnerable, in her stupor perceiving his response as rejection.
“Not at all,” he said, caressing the nape of her neck. “It’s just…you are…well, drunk and I worry that you might regret things later if we have sex right now.”
John then shifted from beneath her, moving her onto the couch so that he could stand. He then reached down and looped his arms under her knees and behind her back to lift her. He swayed a little from his own intoxication, but steadied himself quickly before starting to walk out of the room toward his bedroom. “Let’s just get some sleep for now,” he said soothingly, “and if you still want to jump me after you wake up, I assure you that I’m all yours.”
Martha wanted to argue, but she could feel the drowsiness of working a long shift starting to hit her. She let him lay her down on the bed and accepted an over-sized t-shirt and some pajama trousers of his to sleep in. He’d also changed into pajamas, changing in his en suite to give her privacy as she changed clothes.
Once back in the room, the two of them snuggled into one another with John lightly caressing her hair as Martha drifted off to sleep.
---
As Martha began to wake up, she noticed what felt like a warm breeze caressing her face. She slowly opened her eyes to see John asleep facing her and noticed it was his soft breathing that she had felt. She watched his face, marveling at how beautiful and peaceful he looked as he slumbered, smiling a little herself at the small smile on his lips. She found herself surprised that as she had slept with his arms wrapped around her, she didn’t remember having any nightmares throughout the evening. There was something so calming about John that it made her heart clench just a bit to think of it.
Martha could feel a slight panic rising within her. John was stirring up feelings inside her that she had pushed down for so long. She knew that she could fall in love with him so very easily and that honestly scared her. She knew what giving her heart away could mean, especially when such love was not returned, and how much it hurt to have your heart broken. It had only been a few short months since she walked out of the TARDIS, but the deep pain of losing the Doctor still reared its ugly head time after time despite her attempts to forget him.
John seemed to really like her. He said all the right words, gave all the right signals, but then she thought of how often the Doctor did so as well. Sure he would sometimes say very hurtful things too, but there were definitely times when she would catch a lingering gaze, or feel his arms tighten around her, or the tone in his voice would be so sweet, that it just left her confused about what his real feelings truly were.
Martha then felt embarrassment as she suddenly remembered that in a somewhat drunken haze she had made what felt like a clumsy attempt to seduce John while they were chatting on his couch. She had always been somewhat awkward around men, her intelligence often scaring them off before she’d even had a chance to sleep with them. And when she did finally have sex, most of her experiences tended to be randy blokes fumbling around with her in the dark and sadly them probably getting more enjoyment from things that she had.
Still despite any past disappointments, the warmth of John’s lean body so close to hers, his strong arms wrapped around her waist, and the gentle caress of his breath on her skin was causing arousal to quickly spike within her. Despite the chagrin at her failed seduction coloring her thoughts, she also remembered straddling his lap the night before and his hard length pressed against her through his jeans. She thought of how she just wanted to rub herself against him, pleasuring both of them, and then pressed her thighs tightly together at the thought, trying to relieve the throb of arousal between.
Martha reached out tentatively and ran her fingertips down his side, caressing the soft flannel material of his pajamas. John moaned a little and shifted slightly, but still seemed to remain asleep. She then slid her fingertips down to the hem of his pajama shirt -- his words from last night echoed in her head: “If you still want to jump me after you wake up, I assure you that I’m all yours.” - and slipped her hand beneath it to lightly caress the downy hair on his belly.
Martha then looked down at the expanse of exposed skin where she had lifted the bottom of his shirt. In the glow of the late afternoon creeping through the window, she found herself almost staring at the small line of hair starting just below his belly button that ran down toward the waistband of his trousers. She lightly caressed it with her fingertip, wanting so intensely to follow that line of hair to its end, wanting to see what lay there and to touch and feel him in her hand.
“Martha,” John breathed sensuously.
Martha was startled and started to pull her hand away, suddenly ashamed for being caught and for waking him up, but he stopped her hand, holding it against his belly. She slowly looked up at him to see him looking slightly somnolent, but also looking at her with curiosity and desire. “Please don’t stop,” he added, still whispering.
The low tone of John’s voice stirred Martha’s desire even more and she bit her lip, squeezing her thighs together again. “I didn’t mean - “ she started, trying to calm herself, trying to be polite and sensible.
There was so much she wanted to say, but as his dark eyes regarded her with longing, she found herself unable to finish. I didn’t mean to wake you, I didn’t mean to try to seduce you, I didn’t mean...her mind felt like it was spinning, whirling with so many simultaneous thoughts.
“Yes, you did,” he whispered, lightly pressing her palm flat against his skin, “and that’s okay. I want you to touch me.”
John then moved his hand from hers, trailing his fingertips lightly up her arm, over her shoulder, and neck, to settle on the side of her face. “I’ve always wanted you to,” he added before leaning forward to capture her lips in a sensuous kiss.
Martha moaned against his lips as his tongue glided lightly over her own lips before pushing itself into her mouth. He’d never kissed her like this before - most of their kisses had been chaste by comparison - and she was somewhat glad of it because it seemed she could feel the kiss through her whole body like a fire rushing through her limbs, burning brightest between her legs. She felt almost dizzy with desire, but reigned herself in to succumb to what she’d wanted before he had woken up, what he’d given her permission to do - touch him.
Martha began to slide her fingertips up and down the line of hair on his belly again, enjoying the soft moans and whines coming from him, echoing against her mouth as he began to kiss her more intensely. She then ran her finger down to his trousers’ waistband, slowly sliding a fingertip beneath along its elasticity, just moving it from side to side, from hip to hip. John bucked up beneath her, his hips gyrating slightly, his body seeming to beg her to move her hand lower.
Martha smiled against his lips and slid her hand down further, lightly caressing the soft curls she found there before wrapping her fingers and palm around his cock. John groaned loudly at her touch, pulling from her kiss and leaning his head back tightly against his pillow. She began to stroke him, varying pressure along his length, and rubbing her thumb over the moisture gathering at the tip.
“Oh, yes,” he hissed.
John leaned forward again, launching his mouth at Martha’s neck, nipping and kissing the sensitive skin around her jaw, neckline, and beneath her ear. He then slowly pushed her back against the mattress as he lay by her side.
“I want to taste you,” he whispered in her ear.
He reached down and placed his hand atop the one that Martha was using to touch him, stopping her. She looked at him, feeling worried that perhaps she had not been skillful enough at pleasing him, damning her lack of experience, but he smiled sweetly at her, probably seeing her concerns writ upon her face and kissed her nose. “If you keep that up, this will be over before it starts.”
John then moved on top of her, spreading her legs to settle between them. He lay against her, kissing her again as he lightly rubbed himself between her legs. In response, Martha wrapped her legs around him, pulling him tight against her as she moved her hips counter to him. Just as she imagined, his hardness rubbing against her felt amazing and she could feel herself getting more and more wet at the thought of him sliding into her, easing the throbbing there by filling her.
“Oh, God,” he groaned, propping himself up on his elbows, “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Am I?” Martha asked coyly as she looked up at him.
“Mmm, I think you’re a very naughty girl, Ms. Jones,” he replied, bucking hard against her and causing her to moan loudly. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes,” she breathed out, practically panting.
John smiled impishly at her. “Well,” he leaned down to kiss her neck, “Patience is a virtue, they say.”
He then moved to grasp the hem of her t-shirt and began to slowly pull it off. She arched upward to help him get it off her shoulders and head, though she couldn’t resist rubbing herself against him again as she did so. He moaned in response, tossing the shirt to the floor. “Yes, most definitely naughty,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her neck again.
“I’m just not a very patient person,” Martha cooed.
The thing was, she usually was a very patient person - always putting the needs of others before her own - but there was something sparking inside her, some need filling her and bursting from within that made her want to just grab what she wanted and have it right now.
John slid over to lie next to her, one leg remaining between hers and his hardness now pressed against her thigh. He reached down and began to draw lazy circles on her belly with his fingertips, nuzzling his head against her neck, his breath warm near her ear. “What if I make it worth the wait?” he asked sensuously.
Martha gasped in response, her body starting to tremble a bit as the circles that his fingers were drawing spread out wider and wider until they would brush just lightly against the hardened peaks of her nipples as they passed. “What is the use of rushing anyway? Don’t you want to let yourself get so wound up that you’re just begging me to make you come?”
Martha bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to focus on the soft bushes of John’s fingers against her nipples and across her skin. She then called out in both surprise and pleasure, feeling him pinch one nipple between his thumb and forefinger briefly before returning to the soft caressing circles across her chest and belly. “Do you want me to make you come, Martha?” he murmured, lightly running his tongue against the skin of her neck where his head was.
“Please,” she breathed out heavily, feeling as if her whole body made the sound, as if her whole body was acting together with her mind to fulfill her desire.
“Good,” he said near her ear, his voice still low and honeyed, “I know I won’t be satisfied until I hear you screaming my name.”
John then shifted his body so that he was back between Martha’s legs, but this time he was up on his knees. He looked down briefly into her eyes - his tongue slipping over his lips and his eyes dark as he stared down at her - before he slowly leaned down to kiss and nip at her neck again. He then ever so slowly moved his mouth down from her neck, to her shoulders, to her breasts, to her nipples, down her belly, and over the skin of her hips and thighs.
Martha lost track of how long he had taken with kissing her, losing herself in the pleasures of his mouth as he languorously kissed all over her skin - lingering especially on her breasts, nipping and licking as well as giving her feather-light kisses. It could have been minutes or it could have been hours, but it didn’t matter. All the mattered was the flame burning within her and as he stoked the flame brighter and hotter with each touch of his lips, her body ached for him more and more.
Martha couldn’t remember anyone ever taking such time with her body. Every other time she’d had sex, it had been over in what seemed like mere minutes. In some ways, his intense scrutiny of her body made her feel self-conscious and worried about her fleshy thighs and bottom and smallish breasts. Still, as his mouth moved so delicately across her, seeming as if it was somehow memorizing every bit of her skin, he would murmur sweet praises softly against her flesh of how beautiful and stunning and wonderful he thought she was and it would ease her worries.
Nipping lightly at her thighs, John then slowly spread her legs further apart with a light push of his palms. He settled onto his belly before her, still kissing along the sensitive flesh inside her thighs before letting his breath linger across what lay in between. She was so wet for him that she was ashamed for a moment that he could smell how aroused she was, but she still moved her hips slightly upward to push herself closer to his mouth.
“Mmm, are you asking for something, Martha?” John whispered, running a fingertip lightly up and down the sides of her sex, at the juncture of her thighs, just caressing the hair there.
Martha barely felt in control of her senses anymore and especially out of control of her thoughts. He had dwindled her down to nothing more than feeling and reaction and desire, so trying to work her brain around her feelings and speaking words to convey them proved difficult.
“Kiss...there...please,” she mumbled, her mouth only half-forming the words she wanted to speak.
“Here?” John asked, lightly running his thumb upward along the wet slit of her sex.
Martha gritted her teeth, moaning loudly in response. “Yes!” she replied. Yes, yes, yes, yes!
She wasn’t sure how many times she’d answered him aloud or just in her head, but it didn’t matter, she just wanted his mouth on her.
“It sounds like,” John murmured, his tongue following the trail of his thumb had just taken before circling it around the hardened nub of her clit, “you are begging me to make you come.”
Martha gripped the sheets beside her, still fighting to form words, to tell him what she wanted, what she needed from him.
John seemed to sense her struggling and smiled to himself. He then pushed a finger into his mouth, wetting it, and then reached forward with it to lightly caress her clit in soft circles. “You don’t need to speak, I can tell what you want.”
Martha just groaned in response and he smiled again as he saw her shaking her head vigorously in assent.
“The only words you need to be able to say during this are three: ‘More’, ‘Yes’, and my name, ‘John’. So, say them each with me: ‘more’,” he said, prompting her to echo him.
“M-more,” Martha stammered.
“Yes,” he prompted.
Martha took in a deep breath, furrowing her brow. “Y-yes,” she breathed with a hiss, still struggling to speak.
“And John.”
“J-john,” she stammered, trying to speak and not be too distracted by the soft pressure of his fingertip caressing her clit.
“Very good,” he cooed, “Now the most important of the three is my name, John.” Martha smiled at how he kept saying his name as if she didn’t know it, but then thought he probably knew she could barely remember it in the state she was in. “I want you to call out my name when you come. Can you do that for me?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good,” he replied, “I’ve been wanting to hear you call out my name while climaxing all week. Let’s just call it a bit of a fantasy of mine.”
Martha simply moaned in response, but soon cried out more loudly when he leaned forward and she felt the flat warmth of his tongue slide languidly up and down the slit of her sex. He kept licking her up and down, occasionally flicking the tip of his tongue against her clit, before resuming his prior movement.
He seemed to be teasing her and it was driving her crazy. Her mind grasped for the three words he’d told her, finding one throbbing through her as if it were her blood rushing to her sex. “M-more,” she groaned, the word stretched and pulled like her senses.
John wrapped his lips around her clit in response, suckling there as he pushed a finger inside her, moving it in and out of her slowly.
“Yes,” she hissed. It was another word he’d told her to say and as she found herself repeating it again and again aloud, she contemplated the sound of it across her tongue and in her mouth, of how it hung in the air around them like the scent of sex, and how good his lips felt curled around her, and how exquisite his finger felt as it thrust inside her again and again and -
His final word, his name, pulled to the surface of Martha’s thoughts, almost disorienting her as if she were a diver resurfacing much too quickly, but still strong and bold and bright in her consciousness as her climax hit her. She called out his name, over and over and over again as each successive wave of her orgasm wracked her body, feeling almost as if the pleasure might stop if she stopped repeating his name, like it would break some sort of spell between them. John, John, John, John -
Martha’s body arched upward and she shifted her hips, feeling almost possessed as she thrashed about the bed, but his mouth stayed locked onto her and his finger stayed inside her as her spasms clutched at it. And soon after a moan like a howl that rose from somewhere deep - somewhere almost primal - within her, she fell back against the bed bonelessly.
John slowly moved his mouth from her and pulled his finger from inside her as she twitched from the final effects of her climax. He then moved up to his knees, crawling over her much like a cat would, his eyes staring deeply into hers before he pressed his mouth against her in a passionate kiss.
“That was,” he said breathlessly as the kiss finished, “that was so amazing. You are so incredibly beautiful when you come.”
Martha arched her hips upward to meet the hardness of his cock still pressed tightly against the fabric of his trousers, rubbing against it in a soft circle. “And now,” she panted, “I want you to come.”
She then settled flat against the bed and started to try and open the buttons of his pajama shirt, but after only getting a few open and her sighing in exasperation, the two of them both just slid it up over his head.
“I don’t know if I can wait any longer,” she added with a sigh, reaching down to push the waistband of his trousers over his hips and nudged it down to his knees. “I think I’ve waited long enough. I told you I’m not a patient women.”
John shifted to pull the trousers the rest of the way off and then leaned down flush against her body. “If that’s what you want,” he whispered, his expression somewhat glazed over. “I don’t think I can argue with you.”
He then leaned slightly to the side to reach into a drawer of the bedside locker to retrieve a condom. He held the foil packet up in front of her, shifting back up onto his knees between her legs. “Will you put in on me?”
“I’d love to,” Martha replied, sitting up with his help. She opened the packet and then slowly unrolled it down his cock. She was surprised and rather turned on by his length - only hinted at when she touched him with his trousers on - and she found herself staring for a long moment before forcing herself to look up at him again.
“Do you approve?” he asked with a wink, obviously sensing that she had been staring at him.
“I do indeed,” she teased with a blush.
“Come here,” he said softly, “I want you on my lap.”
Martha shifted to her knees before straddling his legs and slowly lowered herself onto his cock. The two of them groaned as he penetrated her to the hilt and then John leaned down to kiss her neck. Martha began to move atop him, her desire for him only slightly cooled by her recent climax and her need to have him deep inside her overwhelming her. John leaned his head back and the two of them called out, moving more and more quickly against one another - Martha with her hips and John thrusting upward against her.
“Oh God, yes, Martha. You feel so good, so very good,” he panted, their moans getting louder and louder.
“I want you to come, John. I want to see you come,” Martha cried out, reveling in the feeling of him inside her, feeling her own climax beginning.
John suddenly shifted forward, pushing Martha backward hard against the pillows as he began to thrust more and more quickly and harder inside her. He reached forward to grab onto the headboard as he moved against her, breathlessly repeating her name. He then grabbed one of her legs and lifted it to rest on his shoulder, allowing him to penetrate her more deeply. This caused Martha to climax again and, as she had before, she called out his name again and again.
John groaned loudly in response, moving even harder against her, riding her throughout her orgasm until his own body began to shake and then he called out her name loudly as he climaxed against her. He then shifted her leg back down to let his body fall limply beside her.
The two of them lay panting next to each other as the room filled with deep reds as the sun set outside the window. John shifted to pull Martha to lie across his chest, stroking her hair and nuzzling her neck.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Author: radiantbaby
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Dr. John [Note: Dr. John was a David Tennant character in the “Reproduction” episode of “Love in the 21st Century”]
Word Count: 9059 [in Word]
Genre: Crossover, Romance, Fluff, AU[ish]
Rating: NC-17, like very
Spoilers: Post S3, pre-Unit Martha
Summary: Dr. John tries to get Martha to say three words - and they are not what you think. In a nutshell? Martha meets a doctor who is a doppelganger for another Doctor in her life, romance ensues. Crossover of Doctor Who and “Love in the 21st Century”
Beta: The uber-wonderful persiflage_1!
Disclaimer: All your Doctor Who are belong to us Sadly, I own nothing related to Doctor Who et al, nor do I own anything related to “Love in the 21st Century” - I am just playing around in their sandbox for a bit of fun.
Author Notes: Okay so I turned persiflage_1 onto “Love in the 21st Century” last weekend and it sparked a conversation between us about how Dr. John [he of no last name -- had to get creative in the fic!] and Martha would make a smoking-hawt couple. Dr. John, of course, has Tennant’s good looks in his corner and, while he only graced our screen for about ten minutes, his charisma, charm, and sexiness have left a lasting impression on many a fan. On a bit of a whim [and dare from persiflage_1], I decided to give a fic between the two of them a go. It was hard finding John’s voice and fleshing out a bit of backstory for him, so I hope that I did all right with the challenge. Thanks so much as always to the magnificent persiflage_1 who beta’d [and instigated] this piece - this is dedicated to you! Any other mistakes are all mine. Feedback is happy-making, so please leave a word or two [even if I am a bit slack in responding, your comments always make my day].
===
Martha was tired. She was nearly qualified as a Doctor these days, but it wasn’t just the long hours late at night that were wearing her thin, but also the lack of sleep when she was at home.
Nightmares plagued her on an almost daily basis, her subconscious reliving that terrible year she walked the Earth and saw so many people killed. Nearly everyone in the world had forgotten about it due to the Doctor’s reversal of events and sometimes she wished she were one of them -
-- There they all were, blissfully going about day to day, completely unaware of the dangers that lurked around every corner, unaware of what it was like to watch so many people die or experience that terrible smell of burning bodies that never seemed to get out of her clothes, of what it was like to wear a necklace making you invisible when you had been fighting so hard to no longer be unseen by the man you loved for months before, of so much endless running and running and running --
Martha sat in the small staff canteen at Royal Hope, contemplating the cup of tea in front of her on the table. Her hands were wrapped around it, but the warmth of it was gone by the time her thoughts were jarred back to the present when she heard the mechanism of the vending machine in the room.
She looked up to see a man, pulling a bag of crisps from the machine, and her heart nearly stopped when he turned to her and gave a sweet smile.
The world seemed to be spinning out of control beneath her and she gripped tightly to her mug as if it might anchor her.
“D-doctor?” she stammered, wearily, her ears ringing before her head fell forward and she was knocked unconscious by it hitting the table.
---
Martha was holding the Doctor’s hand, running across lush fields of red grass under a burnt orange sky. The two of them stumbled, falling to the ground laughing before he silenced her by rolling over to kiss her sweetly on the mouth.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispered and it sounded like the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. Her heart felt as if it was going to burst with joy into a million pieces and then suddenly he was gone.
“Martha?” she could hear him, calling out for her.
“I’m here, Doctor, I am here.”
“Martha?”
“Martha?” the voice was suddenly louder and her thoughts crystallized as she became conscious again, she opened her eyes to see another pair of soft brown eyes looking at her with concern.
She was a little startled when she suddenly felt a cold liquid drip down the side of her face, but realized that the man she had seen by the vending machine was holding a cloth with ice in it against the left side of her forehead. “There you are. Martha, look at me, I need to see your eyes,” he said softly.
She looked at him, but was also trying to analyze everything around her. Things were still somewhat hazy, but she could see the table that had been in front of her had been pushed aside and this man was crouching down in front of her as she leaned against the back of the chair.
“It looks like you might have a mild concussion from your head hitting the table, I’m afraid,” he peered intensely at her, his mouth slightly open and his tongue pressed against the back of his top row of teeth. He then reached down with his free hand to lightly hold her wrist, testing the pulse there with his fingers. “And your pulse is somewhat thready.”
Martha just stared at the man before her. He looked so much like the Doctor, but there was something in his manner that seemed as if he didn’t even know who she was. She began to look at the little details - noticing that his hair was different (shorter, especially around the sides, and no long sideburns), that he looked slightly younger (physically speaking), and - even more bizarrely to her - he was wearing a white lab coat with a hint of a brown v-neck jumper beneath it and jeans.
He also - she noticed as he spoke to her softly about how she had fallen forward and hit her head, then asked how long it had been since she slept or ate, and said he wanted a better look at her - had a Scottish accent.
“Doctor?”
“Yes?” he replied with a smile that lit up his whole face.
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s alright. You are a bit disoriented, but then I’m sure you know that is normal in this type of situation,” he said, gesturing to her name badge clipped on her own lab coat, identifying her as a medical student.
Pointing at her badge suddenly reminded her to look to see if he had one as well. She looked down and saw it clipped on his pocket: Dr. John MacLachlan.
“Dr. John MacLachlan,” she murmured, reading it aloud, and then looked back up at him, still confused.
“That’s me, but you can call me John,” he said, smiling again and standing up, “Now, let’s get you over to my office, so I can get a better look at you.”
Martha started to stand, but a wave of dizziness hit her, causing her to sit back down. “Here,” he leaned forward over her and she inhaled the soft scent of him, noting that he smelled like a spicy mixture of musk, cinnamon, and a very faint hint of tobacco. “Put your arms around my neck.”
Martha obeyed, reaching around his neck and letting him pull her to her feet. Once standing she slipped her arms down to press her palms against his chest for balance and tried to not blush too much when he wrapped an arm around her and started to slowly walk her out of the room.
---
“Who is your supervisor? I can give them a call if you need,” John asked after doing a few small tests to make sure she was all right as she sat on the small sofa in his office.
“Dr. Blake, but it’s okay, I am off-duty. I was just in the canteen trying to have some tea to wake me up a bit before heading home.”
“Well, I did notice the cup was still full on the table,” he said, shaking his finger at her, giving her a playful reprimand, “Perhaps I should get you some fresh tea, yeah?”
“You don’t have to,” Martha countered, feeling uncomfortable with someone taking such care of her. She’d been so independent for so long, that such things felt awkward. “It’s okay, really.”
“Well, I should grab my bag of crisps I left there anyway, so it’s no bother. I’ll be right back,” he said sweetly, and then walked out of the office.
Martha leaned back on the couch, trying to take in the strange occurrence. Part of her thought she might just be dreaming - she had just been so tired, she almost barely knew what was going on anymore. Since she left the Doctor, she had thrown herself into her work and completing her medical studies. In fact, it seemed that recently that had been her whole life - sleep, study, work, sleep, study, work.
Her family had scolded her a few times about her lack of an “outside” life, but they also knew that she had been grieving and, while they wanted her to be happy, they also knew she had to come to terms with the events of the Year that Never Was as much as they had to. Sometimes they would ask if she’d “met anyone” yet and she hated to tell them of the string of failed dates that lay in her wake, so she just told them she was too busy.
She was starting to feel lost and the prospect of phoning the Doctor on her old mobile was becoming more and more tempting with every day that passed. Martha closed her eyes, hoping for a moment that all the stress would just dissipate and things might all revert back to normal, like they were before she met the Doctor.
“Taking a nap?” A soft voice caused Martha to open her eyes. John walked into the room, tossing his crisps onto his desk before sitting down beside her, holding out a cup of tea for her. “Do you need any sugar or milk?”
“Sugar, please.”
John reached into his pocket, pulled out a few packets of sugar, and handed them to her as well, once she took the cup from his hand.
“It’s a very comfortable sofa. I actually slept on it myself on my first night here,” he added with a laugh. “Have you not been sleeping well? I know that when I was still a student, I barely slept. Not that things are much better these days, but when I was studying for exams...well, I think I barely slept more than a few hours at a time.”
Martha added the sugar to her tea and then blew on it to cool it down. She didn’t want to talk about her lack of sleep because talking about it would inevitably lead to her talking about her nightmares and there was something about this doctor that made her feel as if she could tell him anything. No, she decided to keep the conversation casual instead.
“How long have you been here? I’m pretty sure that I’ve not seen you around here before.” In fact, she was very, very sure - a doppelganger for the Doctor would hardly go unnoticed by her, no matter how little sleep she’d had lately.
“Two days and still getting things set up, actually,” he gestured to a box on the floor by his desk, “I just transferred down from the North Manchester General Hospital.”
“You don’t sound like you’re from Manchester,” Martha commented sipping her tea.
John smiled widely, settling back further on the couch. “No, I’m from Glasgow, originally. I just went to medical school in Manchester and ended up staying there for a few years afterward.”
---
Two hours of excited conversation passed between the two of them before a wide yawn from Martha ceased the talking.
“I’m so sorry, I’ve been so rude. I’m probably keeping you from going home,” John said, his brow furrowed in concern. “Let me walk you to your car.”
“Actually, I generally take the tube,” Martha shrugged, “And it’s alright, I’ve really enjoyed our conversation.”
“Well, let me at least give you a ride home,” he offered, “I would at least feel better about you getting home after that knock on your head if I took you myself.”
Martha considered him for a moment. She was generally not one to consider getting a lift from a stranger, but this was a doctor at her hospital. Plus, in all her time of reading people in order to survive while crossing the Earth, she could tell that he was quite harmless.
“Okay,” Martha replied with a smile.
The two of them stood and John took off his lab coat, hung it on a peg in his office, and replaced it with a tan hooded coat. Then they walked, while chatting amiably, over to the staff locker room for Martha to trade in her own lab coat.
As Martha stuffed her lab coat in her locker, she tried to hide to the smile that nearly broke out on her face as she glanced over to John in the doorway, just leaning against the doorframe and watching her with his own sweet smile. Despite his resemblance to the Doctor, there was something so charming about his nature that put her at ease.
She finally pulled out her bag and her new grey jacket from the locker. Despite her mother saying the jacket had too many pockets, Tish told her it was very flattering to her figure. In this moment, due to Tish’s claims (whether they were true or false), she was happy that she was wearing it. Though it felt a bit puerile to her, she found that she wanted John to really notice her.
Martha turned back to John, putting her bag on her shoulder. “Ready.”
---
Martha and John were alone in the elevator when her belly rumbled somewhat loudly with hunger. John looked over at her with his eyebrow cocked, “When was the last time you ate, Ms. Jones?”
Martha leaned against the wall of the elevator, closing her eyes for a moment to think. “I honestly don’t remember,” she replied with a frown.
The elevator chimed and John led them through the lobby, saying goodbye to the staff there, and headed out to the carpark for his car. John then stopped abruptly as they were walking and turned to her. He was biting his lip for a moment, but then ran his hand through his spiky hair and took a deep breath. “Look, this may sound really forward and, God, I know that you’re tired, but I was wondering if perhaps you’d like to stop for a bite to eat with me on the way home?”
His tone was hopeful, yet nervous, and Martha just stared at him in surprise for a long moment. He seemed to take her silence as a rejection as he nervously added, “I’m being daft and inconsiderate, I know. You need your sleep. I’m just…I’m just a little worried about you. I think that it has been a long time since you’ve eaten and I just…” he trailed off, a slight panic in his eyes as he scratched the back of his neck. He looked down for a moment and then back at her. “I suppose I just didn’t want this morning…our conversation, I mean…to end.”
Martha smiled back at him, crossing her arms over her chest at she regarded him. “I could really do with some breakfast actually. I’d love to.” She was still playing her cards close to her chest, but she couldn’t help the butterflies starting to swarm in her belly at the thought that John seemed as if he might be interested in her.
---
John walked Martha to her front door. They had spent another hour or so chatting at breakfast before he said that he should get her home to finally get some rest.
“I feel much better after that, thanks,” Martha said to him with a smile as they stopped on the porch.
“My pleasure,” John said with big smile that reached his eyes and lit up his face.
“Well, I should probably go,” Martha nodding toward the door. “It’s been lovely, well, apart from the fainting and the concussion bit, that is. Thanks for all that.”
“Well, it’s not every day that I have a beautiful woman faint at the sight of me,” he said with a laugh, rubbing his nose with his knuckle.
Martha blushed, looking up into his deep brown eyes. There was such a bright enthusiasm for life she saw there, so different than the darkness she always saw pooled in the Doctor’s eyes. She then gasped as John leaned forward to press his lips softly against hers for a second.
John quickly leaned back, standing up straight, but looking down at his trainers, blushing. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s quite alright,” Martha said, smiling at him as he shyly moved to look at her again.
“Fancy dinner sometime? I’m still discovering the restaurants around here and I’d love some company.”
Martha looked at him. At first she wanted to decline his offer - not only had she been rubbish lately whenever she tried dating, but the fact that John looked so much like the Doctor also made her hesitant. Still, he seemed like one of the nicest blokes she met in a long time and she thought his resemblance to the Doctor shouldn’t be held against him.
“I’d love to.”
“Great!” he exclaimed, “I’ll see you tonight at the hospital.”
He smiled at her one last time and then made his way down the steps of her porch back to his car, waving to her before driving off.
---
Martha had been seeing John for a week when he invited her over to his flat for a homemade dinner. “I’m not the greatest chef,” he’d said nervously earlier when they were at work together, “but I do have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
The week with John had been really wonderful and Martha was starting to feel her heart lighten a bit. She found it hard to be depressed around John, honestly. While he was slightly manic like the Doctor, he seemed to channel it in more positive ways. He had a great sense of humor and was always making her laugh, sometimes to the point of tears running down her cheeks.
Each morning since they had met, they would have “dinner” together, even though it was probably technically breakfast, as it was early in the morning when their shifts ended. They would find what restaurants were open, sometimes even get in a spot of pool or have a pint or two, laughing about how it was like they were living in a parallel world from the people around them on such different schedules.
Martha had always felt a bit alienated by her hours at work, making it hard for her to keep up with family and friends or have relationships, but she was finding solace in the times she spent with John as he knew what it was like to work in medicine and how your schedule was always in flux and at the whim of your pager. He was always smiling, though, and he would joke how even if there were birds chirping outside your window in the morning light, you could still have a steak and a beer just as anyone else might after they got off work.
“What are you making?” Martha eased up beside John as he stood in front of the stove, stirring some food in a skillet.
He wrapped his free arm around her, snuggling her against his side, and Martha cooed a bit at the affection. The two of them had not done anything more than light kissing and a bit of cuddling in the cinema when they went to catch a film on their second date. Martha could tell that he wanted more, but he was being a gentleman and didn’t push her.
It had been a long time since she had been with a man - more than two years at least, by her reckoning - and she couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous about the prospect of moving things forward. She also had to admit that despite John’s constant compliments on how beautiful and smart she was, her ego had been so damaged by the Doctor’s lack of attention that she wasn’t entirely sure that she even believed him.
Still, as his hand drifted down from her shoulder to draw lazy circles across her lower back as he stirred the food, she was starting to feel her body respond to him more and more and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to wait much longer before being with him. In fact, as she felt the warmth of his body next to hers, she contemplated trying to seduce him that very day.
“Florentine Chicken,” John answered her query, looking down at her before turning his attention back to the chicken pieces that he was stirring in the skillet. “Have you ever had it?”
“That’s the pasta with spinach and chicken, right?”
“Yes, exactly right,” John leaned down and kissed Martha on the forehead, “which reminds me, I need to put the pasta on.”
He shifted away from her and then walked over and pulled a package from the refrigerator. He held it up to her, “I thought I might try it with some fresh, cheese-filled tortellini I picked up down at the market, what do you think?” He then reached in the refrigerator and retrieved another package with his free hand. “Or we could do it with fettuccine?”
“The tortellini sounds marvelous!” Martha replied with a smile.
“Excellent choice!” he replied, tossing the fettuccine back into the refrigerator and then pulling out a pot to cook it in. “I knew you had good taste,” he added with a wink.
“I’m here with you, aren’t I?” she replied with a wink back, feeling slightly awkward from her lack of practice with flirting.
“Yes, indeed you are,” John replied, kissing her quickly on the cheek before returning to his cooking.
---
“That was such a wonderful dinner, thanks!” Martha exclaimed, sitting down on his couch.
“Would you like more wine?” John called out from the kitchen.
“I probably shouldn’t.”
“Well, I’m going to have some more myself, I think. Two days off ahead for me, so I can afford to lay about a bit if I need to,” he replied, and she could hear him laughing to himself as he shuffled around his kitchen.
John had somehow pulled strings to shift his schedule to have the same two days off as Martha. She found the gesture extremely flattering and smiled a bit to herself at the plans they had made for the next two days - walks in the park, playing pool down at the pub (which he was really rather good at), movies at the cinema (which they could finally catch more of with their flexible hours)…
“You know what?” Martha called out, “I think I’ll have some more wine after all. It is rather good.”
“Great, let me tidy up in here for just a moment and I’ll be right there,” he said. Martha started to speak, but he seemed to anticipate her next question, “And no you can’t do anything to help, you’re my guest for the evening.”
Martha laughed, leaning her head back against the back of the couch. She started to take in the décor of the place, finding a moment to study his place while he was otherwise occupied. It was her first time there, after all, so she couldn’t help but be a bit curious.
Everything was relatively sparse as far as furnishings, but with the few boxes she spied in some of the corners of the place, she got the impression that he was still settling in. From her conversations with him over the past week, she found that he had actually started work the next day after moving there, so it was no surprise he was still unpacking.
What she did see were some shelves filled with stacks of CDs and DVDs, a few pictures on the fireplace mantle (which she made a note to have a closer look at later), a shelving unit full of books (many of which seemed to be medical books from the shape of them, but it seemed he also had other books as well), a large television set inside an cherry wood entertainment center, a coffee table also made of cherry wood, and two rather comfy looking large red sofas (one of which she was sitting on).
“Here you are,” John said, coming into the room and handing her a glass of the red wine they’d had at dinner. He then sat next to her on the sofa with his own glass. “You still want to see ‘High Fidelity’?”
“Yes, I’m looking forward to it.”
“Great,” John replied, leaning forward to grab the remote and turned on the television and the movie.
Martha snuggled into his side, drinking her wine, as John wrapped an arm around her.
---
Once the movie ended, they sat facing each other on the couch, and the conversation inevitably moved to the subject of relationships, obviously sparked by the subject matter of the film.
“I bet you’ve dated a million blokes, you probably have them on some waiting list, yeah?” John said to Martha with a tease.
“Oh I wish,” she said with a giggle, feeling a bit tipsy from the wine. “Hardly.”
“I just can’t imagine it, Martha, a stunning woman like you. I bet everyone in the world is in love with you,” he exclaimed with a laugh, but stopped when he noticed Martha’s expression had fallen.
She hadn’t meant to, but his words brought back thoughts of the Doctor, and as the pain of that rejection slammed into her, she couldn’t help the sadness that rose in her.
“Martha?” he caressed her foot that was at his side, “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” she took in a deep breath, pushing her feelings deep down as she always did, “just some bad memories.”
“What’s his name? I’ll give him a good talking to,” John asked playfully, though he’d obviously intuitively figured out she was upset over a past relationship.
Martha grabbed the wine bottle from the coffee table that John had brought in after the movie was over and refilled her glass. She took a deep swig of it, wiping drips of it from her lips. “He was a doctor too, you know, but different than us. Never even noticed I existed. It was really pathetic.”
“Pathetic on his side,” he countered, taking a moment to refill his own glass, “And he was obviously pretty daft.”
“You’re far too kind,” Martha said, taking another deep drink of her wine.
“It’s okay, Martha, we all have our horror stories,” John said, looking at her seriously, “It’s because we survive such things that we become stronger as people.”
John had obviously meant romantic relationships, but what he said resonated with Martha in regard to the other horrors that she’d been through, especially when walking to Earth. Despite any attempts at stopping them, tears began to prick her eyes and then slip down her cheeks.
“Oh, Martha,” he said softly, leaning over to put his glass on the coffee table and then taking hers from her hand to put it there as well. “Come here.”
Martha shifted and reticently moved to lie side by side with him. They lay with their backs against the arm of the couch and he wrapped his arms around her to hold her. She sobbed against him, unable to control the strong emotions welling within her as the alcohol sloshed in her brain. John simply sat there, caressing her back softly as she cried.
“I had a woman steal my sperm once,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “If that’s not a nightmare, I don’t know what is.”
Martha laughed despite herself. “Steal your sperm? How does that work?” she asked between her dwindling sobs.
“From a condom after sleeping with me, actually, used a turkey-baster and everything. She was trying to get pregnant. I’d only just met her too.”
Martha stopped crying and looked up at him, seeing a mixture of amusement and worry on his face. “Did she? I mean, did she get pregnant?”
“Yes,” he replied quietly. “Here I thought I had zero sperm count, but then somehow…I don’t really know what happened there, really. The whole situation was pretty bizarre.”
“Are you a…father then?” Martha asked him, watching his expression sadden and feeling his body tense up. It was the first time she had ever seen him remotely upset and her heart went out to him.
“No,” he said, almost even more softly, but then cleared his throat, beginning to speak more loudly. “The baby didn’t make it full-term. Fay, my ex, had all sorts of complications with the pregnancy.” He paused and then looked up at the ceiling, “It’s funny, I never fancied myself a dad and years ago back in medical school when I had found out I had a zero sperm count, I sort of gave up on the idea of ever being one, but just for those few months…I started to hope again.”
“Maybe one day you can try again?” Martha offered.
“Nah,” he looked back down at her and kissed her on the forehead, “That was just a strange fluke that she’d even got pregnant by me in the first place. One in a million chance and all that. Still,” he took in a deep breath, “I’ve made my peace with it. Mostly. Or at least when I don’t have pretty girls crying in my arms over lost dreams.”
Martha wrapped her arm around him. “Despite the whole stealing of my semen bit, Fay was actually a good woman,” he continued with a chuckle, reaching up to caress Martha’s hair, “Things were never the same after she lost the baby though. We split up just a few months later.”
“Because of the baby?”
“I’m not sure,” he shrugged, “I mean, she’d said that she didn’t really want a baby after confessing how she’d tried to impregnate herself, that her friends had just ‘got to her’ or some such. Then we found out she was pregnant and we decided to try and make a go of it between us. I think in the end we just grew apart. Also, I think she just didn’t understand that I wouldn’t be able to see her as much as she wanted me to with my schedule at the hospital. I’m sure you know how that is.”
“Yeah,” Martha replied, squeezing him around the waist. “I’m so sorry for your loss, John.”
John looked down at her for a long moment and then sighed deeply. “Look at me, bringing down the whole night,” he said nervously, “I can’t believe I just told you all that. I think I made a date faux pas. There’s just something about you, Martha,” he said, reaching down to caress her cheek, “I just want to tell you everything.”
“It’s okay,” she looked back up at him, closing her eyes in pleasure as he caressed her face, “I’m the one who was crying.”
He leaned down, kissing her eyes one by one, “Then we’re even.”
Martha opened her eyes again and suddenly felt the need growing within her to be with him. She wasn’t sure if it was all the wine she’d had making her bold, but she shifted her body to straddle his lap.
John gasped in surprised. “Martha?”
She leaned down and began kissing John’s neck, enjoying the moans it evoked as well as the growing hardness in his jeans beneath her. “I want you, John,” she whispered near his ear.
She then pulled back to look at him, watching the lump bob in his throat as he swallowed hard. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he whispered back.
“Of course, I’m sure,” she replied, her voice slightly slurred and her movements atop him somewhat unsteady.
“Martha,” he reached up and slid his hand into her hair, “I want you too, but not right now. Let’s sleep first.”
She looked down at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Did I do something wrong?” She was suddenly feeling vulnerable, in her stupor perceiving his response as rejection.
“Not at all,” he said, caressing the nape of her neck. “It’s just…you are…well, drunk and I worry that you might regret things later if we have sex right now.”
John then shifted from beneath her, moving her onto the couch so that he could stand. He then reached down and looped his arms under her knees and behind her back to lift her. He swayed a little from his own intoxication, but steadied himself quickly before starting to walk out of the room toward his bedroom. “Let’s just get some sleep for now,” he said soothingly, “and if you still want to jump me after you wake up, I assure you that I’m all yours.”
Martha wanted to argue, but she could feel the drowsiness of working a long shift starting to hit her. She let him lay her down on the bed and accepted an over-sized t-shirt and some pajama trousers of his to sleep in. He’d also changed into pajamas, changing in his en suite to give her privacy as she changed clothes.
Once back in the room, the two of them snuggled into one another with John lightly caressing her hair as Martha drifted off to sleep.
---
As Martha began to wake up, she noticed what felt like a warm breeze caressing her face. She slowly opened her eyes to see John asleep facing her and noticed it was his soft breathing that she had felt. She watched his face, marveling at how beautiful and peaceful he looked as he slumbered, smiling a little herself at the small smile on his lips. She found herself surprised that as she had slept with his arms wrapped around her, she didn’t remember having any nightmares throughout the evening. There was something so calming about John that it made her heart clench just a bit to think of it.
Martha could feel a slight panic rising within her. John was stirring up feelings inside her that she had pushed down for so long. She knew that she could fall in love with him so very easily and that honestly scared her. She knew what giving her heart away could mean, especially when such love was not returned, and how much it hurt to have your heart broken. It had only been a few short months since she walked out of the TARDIS, but the deep pain of losing the Doctor still reared its ugly head time after time despite her attempts to forget him.
John seemed to really like her. He said all the right words, gave all the right signals, but then she thought of how often the Doctor did so as well. Sure he would sometimes say very hurtful things too, but there were definitely times when she would catch a lingering gaze, or feel his arms tighten around her, or the tone in his voice would be so sweet, that it just left her confused about what his real feelings truly were.
Martha then felt embarrassment as she suddenly remembered that in a somewhat drunken haze she had made what felt like a clumsy attempt to seduce John while they were chatting on his couch. She had always been somewhat awkward around men, her intelligence often scaring them off before she’d even had a chance to sleep with them. And when she did finally have sex, most of her experiences tended to be randy blokes fumbling around with her in the dark and sadly them probably getting more enjoyment from things that she had.
Still despite any past disappointments, the warmth of John’s lean body so close to hers, his strong arms wrapped around her waist, and the gentle caress of his breath on her skin was causing arousal to quickly spike within her. Despite the chagrin at her failed seduction coloring her thoughts, she also remembered straddling his lap the night before and his hard length pressed against her through his jeans. She thought of how she just wanted to rub herself against him, pleasuring both of them, and then pressed her thighs tightly together at the thought, trying to relieve the throb of arousal between.
Martha reached out tentatively and ran her fingertips down his side, caressing the soft flannel material of his pajamas. John moaned a little and shifted slightly, but still seemed to remain asleep. She then slid her fingertips down to the hem of his pajama shirt -- his words from last night echoed in her head: “If you still want to jump me after you wake up, I assure you that I’m all yours.” - and slipped her hand beneath it to lightly caress the downy hair on his belly.
Martha then looked down at the expanse of exposed skin where she had lifted the bottom of his shirt. In the glow of the late afternoon creeping through the window, she found herself almost staring at the small line of hair starting just below his belly button that ran down toward the waistband of his trousers. She lightly caressed it with her fingertip, wanting so intensely to follow that line of hair to its end, wanting to see what lay there and to touch and feel him in her hand.
“Martha,” John breathed sensuously.
Martha was startled and started to pull her hand away, suddenly ashamed for being caught and for waking him up, but he stopped her hand, holding it against his belly. She slowly looked up at him to see him looking slightly somnolent, but also looking at her with curiosity and desire. “Please don’t stop,” he added, still whispering.
The low tone of John’s voice stirred Martha’s desire even more and she bit her lip, squeezing her thighs together again. “I didn’t mean - “ she started, trying to calm herself, trying to be polite and sensible.
There was so much she wanted to say, but as his dark eyes regarded her with longing, she found herself unable to finish. I didn’t mean to wake you, I didn’t mean to try to seduce you, I didn’t mean...her mind felt like it was spinning, whirling with so many simultaneous thoughts.
“Yes, you did,” he whispered, lightly pressing her palm flat against his skin, “and that’s okay. I want you to touch me.”
John then moved his hand from hers, trailing his fingertips lightly up her arm, over her shoulder, and neck, to settle on the side of her face. “I’ve always wanted you to,” he added before leaning forward to capture her lips in a sensuous kiss.
Martha moaned against his lips as his tongue glided lightly over her own lips before pushing itself into her mouth. He’d never kissed her like this before - most of their kisses had been chaste by comparison - and she was somewhat glad of it because it seemed she could feel the kiss through her whole body like a fire rushing through her limbs, burning brightest between her legs. She felt almost dizzy with desire, but reigned herself in to succumb to what she’d wanted before he had woken up, what he’d given her permission to do - touch him.
Martha began to slide her fingertips up and down the line of hair on his belly again, enjoying the soft moans and whines coming from him, echoing against her mouth as he began to kiss her more intensely. She then ran her finger down to his trousers’ waistband, slowly sliding a fingertip beneath along its elasticity, just moving it from side to side, from hip to hip. John bucked up beneath her, his hips gyrating slightly, his body seeming to beg her to move her hand lower.
Martha smiled against his lips and slid her hand down further, lightly caressing the soft curls she found there before wrapping her fingers and palm around his cock. John groaned loudly at her touch, pulling from her kiss and leaning his head back tightly against his pillow. She began to stroke him, varying pressure along his length, and rubbing her thumb over the moisture gathering at the tip.
“Oh, yes,” he hissed.
John leaned forward again, launching his mouth at Martha’s neck, nipping and kissing the sensitive skin around her jaw, neckline, and beneath her ear. He then slowly pushed her back against the mattress as he lay by her side.
“I want to taste you,” he whispered in her ear.
He reached down and placed his hand atop the one that Martha was using to touch him, stopping her. She looked at him, feeling worried that perhaps she had not been skillful enough at pleasing him, damning her lack of experience, but he smiled sweetly at her, probably seeing her concerns writ upon her face and kissed her nose. “If you keep that up, this will be over before it starts.”
John then moved on top of her, spreading her legs to settle between them. He lay against her, kissing her again as he lightly rubbed himself between her legs. In response, Martha wrapped her legs around him, pulling him tight against her as she moved her hips counter to him. Just as she imagined, his hardness rubbing against her felt amazing and she could feel herself getting more and more wet at the thought of him sliding into her, easing the throbbing there by filling her.
“Oh, God,” he groaned, propping himself up on his elbows, “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Am I?” Martha asked coyly as she looked up at him.
“Mmm, I think you’re a very naughty girl, Ms. Jones,” he replied, bucking hard against her and causing her to moan loudly. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes,” she breathed out, practically panting.
John smiled impishly at her. “Well,” he leaned down to kiss her neck, “Patience is a virtue, they say.”
He then moved to grasp the hem of her t-shirt and began to slowly pull it off. She arched upward to help him get it off her shoulders and head, though she couldn’t resist rubbing herself against him again as she did so. He moaned in response, tossing the shirt to the floor. “Yes, most definitely naughty,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her neck again.
“I’m just not a very patient person,” Martha cooed.
The thing was, she usually was a very patient person - always putting the needs of others before her own - but there was something sparking inside her, some need filling her and bursting from within that made her want to just grab what she wanted and have it right now.
John slid over to lie next to her, one leg remaining between hers and his hardness now pressed against her thigh. He reached down and began to draw lazy circles on her belly with his fingertips, nuzzling his head against her neck, his breath warm near her ear. “What if I make it worth the wait?” he asked sensuously.
Martha gasped in response, her body starting to tremble a bit as the circles that his fingers were drawing spread out wider and wider until they would brush just lightly against the hardened peaks of her nipples as they passed. “What is the use of rushing anyway? Don’t you want to let yourself get so wound up that you’re just begging me to make you come?”
Martha bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to focus on the soft bushes of John’s fingers against her nipples and across her skin. She then called out in both surprise and pleasure, feeling him pinch one nipple between his thumb and forefinger briefly before returning to the soft caressing circles across her chest and belly. “Do you want me to make you come, Martha?” he murmured, lightly running his tongue against the skin of her neck where his head was.
“Please,” she breathed out heavily, feeling as if her whole body made the sound, as if her whole body was acting together with her mind to fulfill her desire.
“Good,” he said near her ear, his voice still low and honeyed, “I know I won’t be satisfied until I hear you screaming my name.”
John then shifted his body so that he was back between Martha’s legs, but this time he was up on his knees. He looked down briefly into her eyes - his tongue slipping over his lips and his eyes dark as he stared down at her - before he slowly leaned down to kiss and nip at her neck again. He then ever so slowly moved his mouth down from her neck, to her shoulders, to her breasts, to her nipples, down her belly, and over the skin of her hips and thighs.
Martha lost track of how long he had taken with kissing her, losing herself in the pleasures of his mouth as he languorously kissed all over her skin - lingering especially on her breasts, nipping and licking as well as giving her feather-light kisses. It could have been minutes or it could have been hours, but it didn’t matter. All the mattered was the flame burning within her and as he stoked the flame brighter and hotter with each touch of his lips, her body ached for him more and more.
Martha couldn’t remember anyone ever taking such time with her body. Every other time she’d had sex, it had been over in what seemed like mere minutes. In some ways, his intense scrutiny of her body made her feel self-conscious and worried about her fleshy thighs and bottom and smallish breasts. Still, as his mouth moved so delicately across her, seeming as if it was somehow memorizing every bit of her skin, he would murmur sweet praises softly against her flesh of how beautiful and stunning and wonderful he thought she was and it would ease her worries.
Nipping lightly at her thighs, John then slowly spread her legs further apart with a light push of his palms. He settled onto his belly before her, still kissing along the sensitive flesh inside her thighs before letting his breath linger across what lay in between. She was so wet for him that she was ashamed for a moment that he could smell how aroused she was, but she still moved her hips slightly upward to push herself closer to his mouth.
“Mmm, are you asking for something, Martha?” John whispered, running a fingertip lightly up and down the sides of her sex, at the juncture of her thighs, just caressing the hair there.
Martha barely felt in control of her senses anymore and especially out of control of her thoughts. He had dwindled her down to nothing more than feeling and reaction and desire, so trying to work her brain around her feelings and speaking words to convey them proved difficult.
“Kiss...there...please,” she mumbled, her mouth only half-forming the words she wanted to speak.
“Here?” John asked, lightly running his thumb upward along the wet slit of her sex.
Martha gritted her teeth, moaning loudly in response. “Yes!” she replied. Yes, yes, yes, yes!
She wasn’t sure how many times she’d answered him aloud or just in her head, but it didn’t matter, she just wanted his mouth on her.
“It sounds like,” John murmured, his tongue following the trail of his thumb had just taken before circling it around the hardened nub of her clit, “you are begging me to make you come.”
Martha gripped the sheets beside her, still fighting to form words, to tell him what she wanted, what she needed from him.
John seemed to sense her struggling and smiled to himself. He then pushed a finger into his mouth, wetting it, and then reached forward with it to lightly caress her clit in soft circles. “You don’t need to speak, I can tell what you want.”
Martha just groaned in response and he smiled again as he saw her shaking her head vigorously in assent.
“The only words you need to be able to say during this are three: ‘More’, ‘Yes’, and my name, ‘John’. So, say them each with me: ‘more’,” he said, prompting her to echo him.
“M-more,” Martha stammered.
“Yes,” he prompted.
Martha took in a deep breath, furrowing her brow. “Y-yes,” she breathed with a hiss, still struggling to speak.
“And John.”
“J-john,” she stammered, trying to speak and not be too distracted by the soft pressure of his fingertip caressing her clit.
“Very good,” he cooed, “Now the most important of the three is my name, John.” Martha smiled at how he kept saying his name as if she didn’t know it, but then thought he probably knew she could barely remember it in the state she was in. “I want you to call out my name when you come. Can you do that for me?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good,” he replied, “I’ve been wanting to hear you call out my name while climaxing all week. Let’s just call it a bit of a fantasy of mine.”
Martha simply moaned in response, but soon cried out more loudly when he leaned forward and she felt the flat warmth of his tongue slide languidly up and down the slit of her sex. He kept licking her up and down, occasionally flicking the tip of his tongue against her clit, before resuming his prior movement.
He seemed to be teasing her and it was driving her crazy. Her mind grasped for the three words he’d told her, finding one throbbing through her as if it were her blood rushing to her sex. “M-more,” she groaned, the word stretched and pulled like her senses.
John wrapped his lips around her clit in response, suckling there as he pushed a finger inside her, moving it in and out of her slowly.
“Yes,” she hissed. It was another word he’d told her to say and as she found herself repeating it again and again aloud, she contemplated the sound of it across her tongue and in her mouth, of how it hung in the air around them like the scent of sex, and how good his lips felt curled around her, and how exquisite his finger felt as it thrust inside her again and again and -
His final word, his name, pulled to the surface of Martha’s thoughts, almost disorienting her as if she were a diver resurfacing much too quickly, but still strong and bold and bright in her consciousness as her climax hit her. She called out his name, over and over and over again as each successive wave of her orgasm wracked her body, feeling almost as if the pleasure might stop if she stopped repeating his name, like it would break some sort of spell between them. John, John, John, John -
Martha’s body arched upward and she shifted her hips, feeling almost possessed as she thrashed about the bed, but his mouth stayed locked onto her and his finger stayed inside her as her spasms clutched at it. And soon after a moan like a howl that rose from somewhere deep - somewhere almost primal - within her, she fell back against the bed bonelessly.
John slowly moved his mouth from her and pulled his finger from inside her as she twitched from the final effects of her climax. He then moved up to his knees, crawling over her much like a cat would, his eyes staring deeply into hers before he pressed his mouth against her in a passionate kiss.
“That was,” he said breathlessly as the kiss finished, “that was so amazing. You are so incredibly beautiful when you come.”
Martha arched her hips upward to meet the hardness of his cock still pressed tightly against the fabric of his trousers, rubbing against it in a soft circle. “And now,” she panted, “I want you to come.”
She then settled flat against the bed and started to try and open the buttons of his pajama shirt, but after only getting a few open and her sighing in exasperation, the two of them both just slid it up over his head.
“I don’t know if I can wait any longer,” she added with a sigh, reaching down to push the waistband of his trousers over his hips and nudged it down to his knees. “I think I’ve waited long enough. I told you I’m not a patient women.”
John shifted to pull the trousers the rest of the way off and then leaned down flush against her body. “If that’s what you want,” he whispered, his expression somewhat glazed over. “I don’t think I can argue with you.”
He then leaned slightly to the side to reach into a drawer of the bedside locker to retrieve a condom. He held the foil packet up in front of her, shifting back up onto his knees between her legs. “Will you put in on me?”
“I’d love to,” Martha replied, sitting up with his help. She opened the packet and then slowly unrolled it down his cock. She was surprised and rather turned on by his length - only hinted at when she touched him with his trousers on - and she found herself staring for a long moment before forcing herself to look up at him again.
“Do you approve?” he asked with a wink, obviously sensing that she had been staring at him.
“I do indeed,” she teased with a blush.
“Come here,” he said softly, “I want you on my lap.”
Martha shifted to her knees before straddling his legs and slowly lowered herself onto his cock. The two of them groaned as he penetrated her to the hilt and then John leaned down to kiss her neck. Martha began to move atop him, her desire for him only slightly cooled by her recent climax and her need to have him deep inside her overwhelming her. John leaned his head back and the two of them called out, moving more and more quickly against one another - Martha with her hips and John thrusting upward against her.
“Oh God, yes, Martha. You feel so good, so very good,” he panted, their moans getting louder and louder.
“I want you to come, John. I want to see you come,” Martha cried out, reveling in the feeling of him inside her, feeling her own climax beginning.
John suddenly shifted forward, pushing Martha backward hard against the pillows as he began to thrust more and more quickly and harder inside her. He reached forward to grab onto the headboard as he moved against her, breathlessly repeating her name. He then grabbed one of her legs and lifted it to rest on his shoulder, allowing him to penetrate her more deeply. This caused Martha to climax again and, as she had before, she called out his name again and again.
John groaned loudly in response, moving even harder against her, riding her throughout her orgasm until his own body began to shake and then he called out her name loudly as he climaxed against her. He then shifted her leg back down to let his body fall limply beside her.
The two of them lay panting next to each other as the room filled with deep reds as the sun set outside the window. John shifted to pull Martha to lie across his chest, stroking her hair and nuzzling her neck.
“Thank you,” he whispered.