Dark and Light
Title: Dark and Light
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Martha
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Up to Human Nature/Family of Blood
Summary: The Doctor finds a way to thank Martha for her care of him in 1913.
Disclaimer: The BBC owns "Doctor Who" and the Doctor owns me…
Author Notes: This fic is for parrotfish to cheer her up after her voting fiasco on Tuesday. It's inspired by bzzinglikeneon's fan art. (I've been waiting since November when it was first posted for this picture to inspire me and it finally happened!)
My first fic written in the first person - the same scene told from Ten's and then Martha's PoV.
Beta: padawanpooh - *huggles*
~~~~~~
She straddles my body, her soft warmth encompassing me, overwhelming my rigid coolness. She holds my shoulders as she settles her knees either side of me, pressing her body against mine. I grasp her buttocks, holding her steady in my lap, then knead her flesh with my strong fingers. She moans softly against my throat, then presses her mouth to mine. Our lips part and our tongues slide together, stroking and curling around each other's mouth. She tastes of coffee and chocolate, dark and sinfully delicious.
I feel her heart beating against my body and my own hearts are pounding in response. I've wanted this for so long, but I held out against my desire, fearing to hurt her and fearing myself. She may be Shakespeare's Dark Lady, but I am darker still: she doesn't yet know just how dark, and I am terrified of her finding out. She will ask me soon about the Family and I will have to lie, or she will learn the full horror of my darkness, and then she will surely flee from me.
She begins to move now: being kissed and being held are not enough. She is strong, far stronger than most people can guess: they see only her slender body and slight height. She holds me more tightly as she begins to ride me and I hold her steady as my hips buck instinctively. Her face is lit with pleasure, her head thrown back and her throat exposed. I lean forward and kiss her throat, then rasp my tongue across her soft skin. I want to devour her, take her into myself and hold her there. I begin to thrust harder and she moans as I push deeper inside her. Her muscles ripple along my length and I know that I cannot maintain this pace, cannot last.
She comes with a soft cry, her body convulsing around me, her heat fragmenting my control. My breathing becomes shallow and rapid, breath stuttering against her skin as she slumps forward again, her breasts pressing against my chest. Finally I lose control and wrap my arms around her as I pour myself into her: her body arches and she comes again. Her face is even more beautiful when she's lost in this ecstasy and I try to fix the image of her in my mind.
* * * * * *
I discover he is cool everywhere as he slides his hard length inside me: somehow I hadn't anticipated that, I've tried not to think in too much detail about his body or about this situation. When he said he wanted to thank me properly for looking after him in Farringham, I had no idea he meant this. I had intended to ask him what had happened to the Family but that conversation can wait. After watching John Smith fall in love with Joan Redfern, this is unexpected but not unwelcome.
I settle into his lap pressing my body firmly against his as the seat is narrow and I don't want to slide off: that would ruin the mood entirely. He clutches my bottom and begins to massage it eagerly: I have often suspected him of staring at my bum in the past and now I have proof that he likes it.
His touches make me moan as I press my mouth against his throat. I have frequently wanted to kiss his Adam's apple, but first I want to kiss his mouth. I want to see what he does with that wicked tongue of his: he curls it inside my mouth, stroking it against my tongue, my teeth and the roof of my mouth. He tastes of tea and bananas, and something else that I cannot identify but mentally label 'Time Lord'.
I can feel his hearts beating as I hold him and kiss him: I feel as if my own will burst out of my chest as my pleasure and excitement build in response to his touches. I begin to move, kissing is no longer enough, I need more. I grasp his body tightly as I begin to ride him and he begins to thrust into me. My head falls back in pleasure at the sensations that are building throughout my body. I feel him kiss my throat, then lick it as he begins to thrust even harder, pushing himself still deeper into me. I feel my muscles contracting around him and then I come. I can't help crying out quietly and I feel his breath against my skin as I collapse back against his chest, my muscles growing lax after my climax.
Then he wraps his arms around me and comes, holding himself still apart from his cock buried inside me. I feel his release flooding me and my body arches again as I come a second time. I hope we will do this again, I want to watch his face as he comes.
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Martha
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Up to Human Nature/Family of Blood
Summary: The Doctor finds a way to thank Martha for her care of him in 1913.
Disclaimer: The BBC owns "Doctor Who" and the Doctor owns me…
Author Notes: This fic is for parrotfish to cheer her up after her voting fiasco on Tuesday. It's inspired by bzzinglikeneon's fan art. (I've been waiting since November when it was first posted for this picture to inspire me and it finally happened!)
My first fic written in the first person - the same scene told from Ten's and then Martha's PoV.
Beta: padawanpooh - *huggles*
~~~~~~
She straddles my body, her soft warmth encompassing me, overwhelming my rigid coolness. She holds my shoulders as she settles her knees either side of me, pressing her body against mine. I grasp her buttocks, holding her steady in my lap, then knead her flesh with my strong fingers. She moans softly against my throat, then presses her mouth to mine. Our lips part and our tongues slide together, stroking and curling around each other's mouth. She tastes of coffee and chocolate, dark and sinfully delicious.
I feel her heart beating against my body and my own hearts are pounding in response. I've wanted this for so long, but I held out against my desire, fearing to hurt her and fearing myself. She may be Shakespeare's Dark Lady, but I am darker still: she doesn't yet know just how dark, and I am terrified of her finding out. She will ask me soon about the Family and I will have to lie, or she will learn the full horror of my darkness, and then she will surely flee from me.
She begins to move now: being kissed and being held are not enough. She is strong, far stronger than most people can guess: they see only her slender body and slight height. She holds me more tightly as she begins to ride me and I hold her steady as my hips buck instinctively. Her face is lit with pleasure, her head thrown back and her throat exposed. I lean forward and kiss her throat, then rasp my tongue across her soft skin. I want to devour her, take her into myself and hold her there. I begin to thrust harder and she moans as I push deeper inside her. Her muscles ripple along my length and I know that I cannot maintain this pace, cannot last.
She comes with a soft cry, her body convulsing around me, her heat fragmenting my control. My breathing becomes shallow and rapid, breath stuttering against her skin as she slumps forward again, her breasts pressing against my chest. Finally I lose control and wrap my arms around her as I pour myself into her: her body arches and she comes again. Her face is even more beautiful when she's lost in this ecstasy and I try to fix the image of her in my mind.
* * * * * *
I discover he is cool everywhere as he slides his hard length inside me: somehow I hadn't anticipated that, I've tried not to think in too much detail about his body or about this situation. When he said he wanted to thank me properly for looking after him in Farringham, I had no idea he meant this. I had intended to ask him what had happened to the Family but that conversation can wait. After watching John Smith fall in love with Joan Redfern, this is unexpected but not unwelcome.
I settle into his lap pressing my body firmly against his as the seat is narrow and I don't want to slide off: that would ruin the mood entirely. He clutches my bottom and begins to massage it eagerly: I have often suspected him of staring at my bum in the past and now I have proof that he likes it.
His touches make me moan as I press my mouth against his throat. I have frequently wanted to kiss his Adam's apple, but first I want to kiss his mouth. I want to see what he does with that wicked tongue of his: he curls it inside my mouth, stroking it against my tongue, my teeth and the roof of my mouth. He tastes of tea and bananas, and something else that I cannot identify but mentally label 'Time Lord'.
I can feel his hearts beating as I hold him and kiss him: I feel as if my own will burst out of my chest as my pleasure and excitement build in response to his touches. I begin to move, kissing is no longer enough, I need more. I grasp his body tightly as I begin to ride him and he begins to thrust into me. My head falls back in pleasure at the sensations that are building throughout my body. I feel him kiss my throat, then lick it as he begins to thrust even harder, pushing himself still deeper into me. I feel my muscles contracting around him and then I come. I can't help crying out quietly and I feel his breath against my skin as I collapse back against his chest, my muscles growing lax after my climax.
Then he wraps his arms around me and comes, holding himself still apart from his cock buried inside me. I feel his release flooding me and my body arches again as I come a second time. I hope we will do this again, I want to watch his face as he comes.