Fish and Chips
Who_Daily Link: < a href="http://persiflage-1.livejournal.com/146741.html">Fish and Chips by < lj user=persiflage_1> (Characters: Martha/Nine | Rating: NC-17 | Spoilers: 1.02)
Title: Fish and Chips
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Nine
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Passing reference to "The End of the World"
Summary: The Doctor visits Martha for lunch, and more.
Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!
Author Notes: The plot bunny arrived with this last night and nagged until I wrote it. I wasn't planning on writing a Martha/Nine series, but apparently my plans don't come into this! This fic's set directly after the end of "The End of the World" from Nine's PoV, and it's a sequel to Patient.
~~~~~~
The Doctor dropped Rose off at her mother's after they got back from Platform One and had found a chip shop to satisfy her craving. She seemed a bit traumatised by seeing the Earth finally destroyed and he wasn't entirely sure how to deal with her reaction. Then again, he wasn't entirely sure why he'd invited her to travel with him, although it had seemed like a good idea at the time. He glanced down at the carrier bag he clutched in his hand as he climbed the stairs and wondered whether doing something because it seemed like a good idea at the time was going to become a running theme of this incarnation, which appeared to be rather impulsive.
Martha Jones wrapped her bathrobe around herself and headed towards her bedroom, intending to get dressed, when there was a knock on her door. Frowning, she opened it and stared at the sight of John Smith on her doorstep carrying a bag of what smelt like fish and chips.
"Oh my god! What are you doing here?" she asked, astounded. She really hadn't expected to see him again after the previous evening.
His smile, which had widened into a wicked grin once he caught sight of her bathrobe, faded. "Well that's nice," he complained, "I bring you food and you ask what I'm doing here?"
She shook her head in confusion. "You'd better come in then." She grabbed his wrist and tugged him across the threshold; immediately he put down the carrier bag and drew her closer to give her a lingering kiss.
"Blimey!" she gasped once he'd let her breathe. "You're not exactly backwards in coming forwards, are you?"
He chuckled and she felt her stomach do an odd flip-flop at the sound. "Not me, but you knew that already, after yesterday." He picked up the carrier bag again. "Shall we?"
"Well I haven't eaten yet," she agreed, "although fish and chips isn't exactly healthy."
He frowned slightly. "It won't kill you, either. You really should live a little."
"You say that as if I'm some stick-in-the-mud who never does anything impulsive." She went to the fridge to fetch out the bottle of wine from the day before, which was still three-quarters full. "Have you forgotten yesterday?"
"Forgotten?" he asked, stepping behind her as she picked up some wine glasses. "How could I possibly forget?" He bent his head and nuzzled the side of her neck, eliciting a shiver and a soft sigh from Martha. He wrapped his arms around her, his fingers ghosting up across her ribcage.
"John," she gasped.
"Yes Martha?"
"Food's getting cold." It pained her to interrupt him, but the food was getting cold, and if they were going to have a repeat performance of the night before, she knew she'd need some calories to burn up.
"Mebbe I'll have you for dessert," he whispered, nipping at her earlobe before taking the wine and glasses from her and turning back to the table.
Martha remained where she was, eyes closed and feeling a little dizzy. When she'd got up that morning, she'd been half convinced that the whole of the previous evening had been nothing more than an incredibly vivid and erotic dream. Taking a strange man into her bed, and one old enough to be her father at that, was not something she made a habit of doing. In fact, she wasn't even in the habit of dating since work and her studies kept her so busy. She hadn't expected to see John Smith again, never mind today: she had convinced herself that their evening had been nothing more than a reaction to his accident and the fact that she'd patched him up.
"You gonna eat this then?" he asked, interrupting her wandering thoughts.
"Yeah." She sat down at the kitchen table and began tucking into the chips as he poured them both half a glass of wine.
He passed one over to her and she accepted it, smiling mischievously.
"What?" he asked, liking the smile, and the way her eyes shone.
"Just thinking that this is rather Bacchanalian," she observed. He raised his eyebrows inquisitively. "Red wine with fish and chips? And me wearing nothing more than a bathrobe and slippers? It's almost indecent."
He grinned as he picked up his glass and held it out to make a toast. "To Bacchus."
She chuckled, a rich, warm sound that made him tingle in anticipation. "To Bacchus."
"So, did you find somewhere to stay?" she asked after taking a mouthful of the wine.
"Yeah, got meself a little place."
"Good. And how's the shoulder and leg? I didn't notice you limping earlier."
He looked up worriedly, but her attention was on the food.
"I'm okay," he said. "I'm a quick healer."
"You must be." She drank some wine. "And what do you do for work?"
"I'm an engineer."
He felt uncomfortable about lying to Martha, but he wasn't sure he wanted to tell her was a time-travelling alien just yet. He wasn't entirely sure why he was here again, although the sex had been very good - not least because she was a generous lover - but he could easily have found someone else. It would have been easy to write off yesterday's encounter as a one-off, a reaction to nearly being blown up and then being treated by a pretty girl, but for some reason he found himself drawn to her.
"John?" Martha's soft voice broke into his reverie and he realised she'd asked him a question he hadn't heard.
"Yeah, sorry." He focused his attention on her, seeing her looking at him with concern.
"You okay?" she asked, reaching out and touching the back of his hand. "You were miles away then."
"Light years," he answered automatically, turning his hand over to interlace his fingers with hers, enjoying the sensation of her small, soft hand in his larger, rougher one.
"Why light years?" she asked curiously, as she went back to her wine.
"What?" he asked, sounding dazed.
Martha laughed softly and pulled her hand free, then placed the back of it against his forehead, frowning slightly when she registered how cool his skin felt.
"You've got an unusually low body temperature," she observed, her manner instantly switching from playful to serious. "I noticed that yesterday too."
"Yeah, just one of them things," he said quickly. "Have you finished?" He was changing the subject, not wanting her to think too much about his lower-than-human body temperature, which was quite normal for a Gallifreyan.
"Yes thanks. If I eat too much at this time of the day, I'll just fall asleep."
"And that'd be a great shame," he said, winking at her as he got to his feet and started gathering up the chip papers.
Martha ducked her head, blushing a little, then got up to wash her hands; she hadn't eaten fish and chips with her fingers for years. A moment later he was pressing his body against hers as he reached around her to wash his own hands. She swallowed a whimper as she felt his arousal pressing firmly against her bottom, even through his jeans. Then she did whimper as he slid his right hand inside her bathrobe, up across her flat, muscled stomach, and lightly brushed his fingers across her left breast. Her body jerked in response to his touch as his left hand travelled up across her stomach to tease her right breast.
"Isn't that nice?" he murmured, nuzzling the side of her neck as he continued to tease her nipples to hardness.
"Yes." Martha could feel her arousal building and heat gathering between her legs as his tongue and teeth worked at her neck, and his fingers toyed with her breasts.
He ground himself against her bottom. "Reckon I could make you come with just me fingers and mouth?" he asked, his voice low and seductive in her ear.
"Yes," she groaned, already feeling herself approaching the brink.
He dropped his right hand down to brush lightly through her curls, thrusting against her bottom.
"John!" She was struggling to stay on her feet as his left hand continued to tease her nipples alternately, and he nipped and sucked at her neck, while the fingers of his right hand skimmed around her entrance. "Please!"
He slipped a finger into her heat, murmuring indistinctly against her neck when he found just how wet and ready she was. She bucked her hips, wanting more, and harder and deeper, and he immediately pushed his finger in further, then added a second, before brushing his thumb across her clit. After the third or fourth such touch she came hard with a wordless cry, her legs trembling and her eyes closed.
"Good?" he asked, still nuzzling at her neck as he slowly stroked her through the aftershocks of her orgasm.
"God yes," she said fervently once she had found her voice again.
"Good." He turned her in his arms and bent his head to kiss her deeply.
After a few moments she brushed her hand across the prominent bulge in his jeans. "My turn," she told him with a mischievous grin.
He felt his cock twitch. "Your turn?" he asked distractedly.
"To make you come with just my fingers and mouth," she answered, undoing the button and then the zip on his jeans.
"Oh!" He couldn't help gasping when she eased his length free of his jeans.
"Turn around," she said, "and lean against the cupboard."
He obeyed mechanically, barely aware of anything except her warm hand holding his cool length. Martha sank to her knees and he watched dazedly as she lapped his tip, her fingers sliding down to the base to toy with his scrotum, before sliding back up about half way.
Soon he was the one whimpering as she teased him with her tongue, lips and fingers until he exploded into her mouth, his orgasm leaving his legs trembling as much as Martha's had done earlier.
"Bloody hell!" he gasped, sinking down to the floor next to her.
"Was that okay?" she asked nervously.
"Okay?" he asked disbelievingly. "It was fantastic!"
She couldn't help laughing a little at his response. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."
He noticed that she sounded genuinely relieved. "Why wouldn't I?"
"Well, it has been a while," she answered, blushing a little. "I thought I might have lost my touch."
"You haven't," he assured her, wrapping his arms around her. "And why's it been a while? Someone as gorgeous as you should be fighting them off with a stick every night."
Martha felt herself blushing even more. "I've just been really busy, between my training and my studies. It takes a lot of hard work to become a doctor, and it's been my ambition since I was a child, so I've been working hard to achieve it."
"Good for you. How old are you?"
"Twenty-two."
He blinked, surprised to learn she was so close in age to Rose; somehow Martha seemed much older.
"Is that a problem?" she asked, pulling back from resting her head on his shoulder to look at his face.
"No, of course not. Why would it be a problem?"
She noticed that he sounded genuinely surprised by her question ."Well, the age gap," she answered.
He almost laughed then. He wondered how she'd react if he told her he was actually over nine hundred years old, despite looking forty-ish. "It's not a problem," he assured her, "not unless it bothers you?"
She shook her head. "I prefer older men."
"Good." He got up, pulling her up to her feet. "Come on, let's go to bed."
"Okay." She let him lead her into her bedroom, anticipating the pleasure to come.
Title: Fish and Chips
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Nine
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Passing reference to "The End of the World"
Summary: The Doctor visits Martha for lunch, and more.
Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!
Author Notes: The plot bunny arrived with this last night and nagged until I wrote it. I wasn't planning on writing a Martha/Nine series, but apparently my plans don't come into this! This fic's set directly after the end of "The End of the World" from Nine's PoV, and it's a sequel to Patient.
~~~~~~
The Doctor dropped Rose off at her mother's after they got back from Platform One and had found a chip shop to satisfy her craving. She seemed a bit traumatised by seeing the Earth finally destroyed and he wasn't entirely sure how to deal with her reaction. Then again, he wasn't entirely sure why he'd invited her to travel with him, although it had seemed like a good idea at the time. He glanced down at the carrier bag he clutched in his hand as he climbed the stairs and wondered whether doing something because it seemed like a good idea at the time was going to become a running theme of this incarnation, which appeared to be rather impulsive.
Martha Jones wrapped her bathrobe around herself and headed towards her bedroom, intending to get dressed, when there was a knock on her door. Frowning, she opened it and stared at the sight of John Smith on her doorstep carrying a bag of what smelt like fish and chips.
"Oh my god! What are you doing here?" she asked, astounded. She really hadn't expected to see him again after the previous evening.
His smile, which had widened into a wicked grin once he caught sight of her bathrobe, faded. "Well that's nice," he complained, "I bring you food and you ask what I'm doing here?"
She shook her head in confusion. "You'd better come in then." She grabbed his wrist and tugged him across the threshold; immediately he put down the carrier bag and drew her closer to give her a lingering kiss.
"Blimey!" she gasped once he'd let her breathe. "You're not exactly backwards in coming forwards, are you?"
He chuckled and she felt her stomach do an odd flip-flop at the sound. "Not me, but you knew that already, after yesterday." He picked up the carrier bag again. "Shall we?"
"Well I haven't eaten yet," she agreed, "although fish and chips isn't exactly healthy."
He frowned slightly. "It won't kill you, either. You really should live a little."
"You say that as if I'm some stick-in-the-mud who never does anything impulsive." She went to the fridge to fetch out the bottle of wine from the day before, which was still three-quarters full. "Have you forgotten yesterday?"
"Forgotten?" he asked, stepping behind her as she picked up some wine glasses. "How could I possibly forget?" He bent his head and nuzzled the side of her neck, eliciting a shiver and a soft sigh from Martha. He wrapped his arms around her, his fingers ghosting up across her ribcage.
"John," she gasped.
"Yes Martha?"
"Food's getting cold." It pained her to interrupt him, but the food was getting cold, and if they were going to have a repeat performance of the night before, she knew she'd need some calories to burn up.
"Mebbe I'll have you for dessert," he whispered, nipping at her earlobe before taking the wine and glasses from her and turning back to the table.
Martha remained where she was, eyes closed and feeling a little dizzy. When she'd got up that morning, she'd been half convinced that the whole of the previous evening had been nothing more than an incredibly vivid and erotic dream. Taking a strange man into her bed, and one old enough to be her father at that, was not something she made a habit of doing. In fact, she wasn't even in the habit of dating since work and her studies kept her so busy. She hadn't expected to see John Smith again, never mind today: she had convinced herself that their evening had been nothing more than a reaction to his accident and the fact that she'd patched him up.
"You gonna eat this then?" he asked, interrupting her wandering thoughts.
"Yeah." She sat down at the kitchen table and began tucking into the chips as he poured them both half a glass of wine.
He passed one over to her and she accepted it, smiling mischievously.
"What?" he asked, liking the smile, and the way her eyes shone.
"Just thinking that this is rather Bacchanalian," she observed. He raised his eyebrows inquisitively. "Red wine with fish and chips? And me wearing nothing more than a bathrobe and slippers? It's almost indecent."
He grinned as he picked up his glass and held it out to make a toast. "To Bacchus."
She chuckled, a rich, warm sound that made him tingle in anticipation. "To Bacchus."
"So, did you find somewhere to stay?" she asked after taking a mouthful of the wine.
"Yeah, got meself a little place."
"Good. And how's the shoulder and leg? I didn't notice you limping earlier."
He looked up worriedly, but her attention was on the food.
"I'm okay," he said. "I'm a quick healer."
"You must be." She drank some wine. "And what do you do for work?"
"I'm an engineer."
He felt uncomfortable about lying to Martha, but he wasn't sure he wanted to tell her was a time-travelling alien just yet. He wasn't entirely sure why he was here again, although the sex had been very good - not least because she was a generous lover - but he could easily have found someone else. It would have been easy to write off yesterday's encounter as a one-off, a reaction to nearly being blown up and then being treated by a pretty girl, but for some reason he found himself drawn to her.
"John?" Martha's soft voice broke into his reverie and he realised she'd asked him a question he hadn't heard.
"Yeah, sorry." He focused his attention on her, seeing her looking at him with concern.
"You okay?" she asked, reaching out and touching the back of his hand. "You were miles away then."
"Light years," he answered automatically, turning his hand over to interlace his fingers with hers, enjoying the sensation of her small, soft hand in his larger, rougher one.
"Why light years?" she asked curiously, as she went back to her wine.
"What?" he asked, sounding dazed.
Martha laughed softly and pulled her hand free, then placed the back of it against his forehead, frowning slightly when she registered how cool his skin felt.
"You've got an unusually low body temperature," she observed, her manner instantly switching from playful to serious. "I noticed that yesterday too."
"Yeah, just one of them things," he said quickly. "Have you finished?" He was changing the subject, not wanting her to think too much about his lower-than-human body temperature, which was quite normal for a Gallifreyan.
"Yes thanks. If I eat too much at this time of the day, I'll just fall asleep."
"And that'd be a great shame," he said, winking at her as he got to his feet and started gathering up the chip papers.
Martha ducked her head, blushing a little, then got up to wash her hands; she hadn't eaten fish and chips with her fingers for years. A moment later he was pressing his body against hers as he reached around her to wash his own hands. She swallowed a whimper as she felt his arousal pressing firmly against her bottom, even through his jeans. Then she did whimper as he slid his right hand inside her bathrobe, up across her flat, muscled stomach, and lightly brushed his fingers across her left breast. Her body jerked in response to his touch as his left hand travelled up across her stomach to tease her right breast.
"Isn't that nice?" he murmured, nuzzling the side of her neck as he continued to tease her nipples to hardness.
"Yes." Martha could feel her arousal building and heat gathering between her legs as his tongue and teeth worked at her neck, and his fingers toyed with her breasts.
He ground himself against her bottom. "Reckon I could make you come with just me fingers and mouth?" he asked, his voice low and seductive in her ear.
"Yes," she groaned, already feeling herself approaching the brink.
He dropped his right hand down to brush lightly through her curls, thrusting against her bottom.
"John!" She was struggling to stay on her feet as his left hand continued to tease her nipples alternately, and he nipped and sucked at her neck, while the fingers of his right hand skimmed around her entrance. "Please!"
He slipped a finger into her heat, murmuring indistinctly against her neck when he found just how wet and ready she was. She bucked her hips, wanting more, and harder and deeper, and he immediately pushed his finger in further, then added a second, before brushing his thumb across her clit. After the third or fourth such touch she came hard with a wordless cry, her legs trembling and her eyes closed.
"Good?" he asked, still nuzzling at her neck as he slowly stroked her through the aftershocks of her orgasm.
"God yes," she said fervently once she had found her voice again.
"Good." He turned her in his arms and bent his head to kiss her deeply.
After a few moments she brushed her hand across the prominent bulge in his jeans. "My turn," she told him with a mischievous grin.
He felt his cock twitch. "Your turn?" he asked distractedly.
"To make you come with just my fingers and mouth," she answered, undoing the button and then the zip on his jeans.
"Oh!" He couldn't help gasping when she eased his length free of his jeans.
"Turn around," she said, "and lean against the cupboard."
He obeyed mechanically, barely aware of anything except her warm hand holding his cool length. Martha sank to her knees and he watched dazedly as she lapped his tip, her fingers sliding down to the base to toy with his scrotum, before sliding back up about half way.
Soon he was the one whimpering as she teased him with her tongue, lips and fingers until he exploded into her mouth, his orgasm leaving his legs trembling as much as Martha's had done earlier.
"Bloody hell!" he gasped, sinking down to the floor next to her.
"Was that okay?" she asked nervously.
"Okay?" he asked disbelievingly. "It was fantastic!"
She couldn't help laughing a little at his response. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."
He noticed that she sounded genuinely relieved. "Why wouldn't I?"
"Well, it has been a while," she answered, blushing a little. "I thought I might have lost my touch."
"You haven't," he assured her, wrapping his arms around her. "And why's it been a while? Someone as gorgeous as you should be fighting them off with a stick every night."
Martha felt herself blushing even more. "I've just been really busy, between my training and my studies. It takes a lot of hard work to become a doctor, and it's been my ambition since I was a child, so I've been working hard to achieve it."
"Good for you. How old are you?"
"Twenty-two."
He blinked, surprised to learn she was so close in age to Rose; somehow Martha seemed much older.
"Is that a problem?" she asked, pulling back from resting her head on his shoulder to look at his face.
"No, of course not. Why would it be a problem?"
She noticed that he sounded genuinely surprised by her question ."Well, the age gap," she answered.
He almost laughed then. He wondered how she'd react if he told her he was actually over nine hundred years old, despite looking forty-ish. "It's not a problem," he assured her, "not unless it bothers you?"
She shook her head. "I prefer older men."
"Good." He got up, pulling her up to her feet. "Come on, let's go to bed."
"Okay." She let him lead her into her bedroom, anticipating the pleasure to come.