FIC: Flipped, Book 3 (5/12?)
Title: Flipped, Book 3
Rating: heavy T, with some M/MA
Author: tkel_paris
Summary: David Noble thought he had come to terms with the strange feelings the female Doctor inspired, and it seemed to be helped by Martha Jones joining them. But when the Aubertide threaten the Doctor, protecting her requires a cover that will test his sanity and his ability to find the right thing to do. Written for tardis_mole.
Required Disclaimer: The summary should be enough to tell you I own nothing.
Dedications: My good friend tardis_mole, for helping me discover my talent at editing and for being an inspiration. You've challenged me to go beyond what I previously thought I would like, and so this is the farthest I've gone from my comfort zone so far. Who knows where I'll go next?
And another important shout-out: sykira, whose LJ post about John Barrowman's comments about how Doctor Who could eventually go was the ultimate spark for this idea. So I suppose that means the ultimate blame for this lies with the Barrowman. I can only imagine what he would think, although I suspect he would heartily approve. :P
Author's Note: Originally spawned from a different idea that split into three, this is a new version of one of those ideas revived as a birthday present. And it's spawned a slightly AU version as a Christmas present. The original prompt from TM boiled down to this: “The Doctor and Donna in a situation that's never been done before.” Ask and ye shall receive, my friend. Enjoy the second sequel. :D A VERY Belated Happy Birthday, TM! :DDD
Special Disclaimer: I refuse to be held responsible for any $2000/₤2000 lattes, spit-takes, fainting spells, workplace/school gaffes, or falling against/from things that might happen if you're not careful while reading this story. Especially in certain chapters. Read at your own risk. (I put this in because I was warned by one of my betas, cassikat, that my emails should come with a spit-take warning. So I'm looking out for y'all. ;D)
And TM, be careful that you don't hyperventilate from reading some of the sections. I know you. :P And so sorry for the delay. At least I have a legitimate excuse for not working on it last year; we had our balrog to work on. :D
Thanks to cassikat and bas_math_girl for betaing. Couldn't have done it without y'all.
Flipped, Book 3
Started July 14, 2013
Finished December 31, 2015
CHAPTER FIVE: SIMPLY IRRESISTABLE
David returned home with trepidation, and remained in his car for a few minutes. He acted like he was answering messages on his phone, but he was stalling, delaying as long as he felt able to.
When he had finally checked for messages he found two. He read Martha's first, which had on him edge:
Donna is broody. She wants a baby, and soon.
He gulped before he read the text message from Donna. (And when did the TARDIS add the new phone's number to his saved contacts?! It was useful but he still wanted to know.) Donna's text mentioned she would cook his favorite dinner, and it would be ready around 6, assuming he was not delayed. He was, helping the colleague who usually covered for him since he was sometimes called away without the benefit of the TARDIS. But he was not sure that he was merely delaying facing the inevitable.
It made him nervous just thinking in those terms. Like he was on a collision course with something he had no acceptable way to avoid. Even if it might be dangerously close to the truth.
The way she had talked this morning, he suspected that she expected sex tonight. And he was trying to figure a way out without hurting or offending her. You did not make a woman feel undesirable, after all. That was just cruel, and utterly ungentlemanly. If he had to be ungentlemanly to a woman, it was for a good reason. Say she wasn't taking the hint that her attentions or advances were usually annoying and always very unwelcome.
But Donna was not a little girl who pretended to be woman, or some social climber who needed to be knocked down to size. She was the Doctor in hiding, and she was hiding as his wife.
Which complicated everything.
Worse still was the reaction of his colleagues. He hadn't been able to hide the wedding ring, and went with the Grenta Green story the TARDIS had concocted. Beyond that he held information back, which earned him a load of teasing. When he reluctantly admitted she had been disappointed that he had to go in today they shifted the schedules slightly. He would be needed part of the next day, but then he had a whole week to, as one put it, “enjoy your wife's company”.
It was when he was prompted for a photo that he discovered the TARDIS had planted fake photos from the 'wedding'. He had had to send a text to Martha warning her that she was in a few of them, to be prepared for any tales Donna might spin. After he thanked her for her warning.
He entered the house, and immediately noticed the smells of cooking. His stomach instantly growled, reminding him his lunch had been a while ago and not very filling. Curie strolled up to greet him with a happy bark. She was the only one who had adjusted completely to the Doctor's suddenly being different. She acted like it should have been like this from the start. Trying to suppress a grimace, he rubbed her fur. “Good girl,” he muttered.
Unfortunately the usual stress relief that came from petting her did not come.
“You're home!” Donna called from the kitchen. “I've just finished the last dish! You want some wine or a lager?”
Alcohol was the worst thing he could bring into the mix here, but could he delay? “Um... not sure. Bit of a headache.”
“Oh, come in and sit down!” She suddenly burst into the entryway and grabbed his hand. “Let me take care of you for a little.”
He made a point of not looking closely, only noting that she was wearing a black dress. But when she stopped and turned to face him, he nearly choked. It was the dress that he had seen on a hanger back when they were shopping for the new wardrobe, and Nerys had insisted the Doctor try it on. It was also the only dress he had not seen on her - his friends had made sure of that. Probably a good thing since he might have embarrassed himself over the cleavage that stuck out from her body.
As it was he embarrassed himself plenty during the Lazarus Labs mess. Martha had suggested the Doctor wear that dress, and he still couldn't believe he had managed to be coherent. Especially when they were trapped in the machine and the Doctor was struggling to get her sonic out of her hidden pockets.
Only Martha being trapped with them somehow made it less awkward. Even though he had had a glorious view down the Doctor's necklace.
Standing right next to her meant he could see a hint of the same lacy bra she had worn before. Heaven help me, he silently croaked.
“As you probably can smell, I made your favourites. I hope you're hungry, love.”
He was. And he was afraid it wasn't just his stomach.
The following thirty minutes were an exercise in what felt like torture - of the painfully delicious kind. He had been the recipient of the wiles of women who went too far in acting sexy or seductive before, and could recognize such crass behavior a mile away. It was part of why anyone like Rose Tyler never had a chance with him. Never mind that he did not care for ladies who pretended to be something they were not or who could not be bothered to commit completely to a change so it looked natural. But the woman the Doctor had turned into was different. Aside from how she was dressed, she never did anything consciously to draw his attention that way. Oh, she did give him some extra shows if she leaned over the 'wrong' way, but it seemed like she was not aware she was doing it. Nor did she notice that how she ate could be considered sexual at times.
It was scarily like the Doctor, and his body was no less responsive to it than he had been before. He kept feeling like he needed to grip the table to try to shove some of the tension out of him.
It didn't help. At all.
What was not like the Doctor was how bashful she was if he praised her in any way - which he was limiting to the cooking so he didn't embarrass himself. It was like the Doctor's bravado was still there but all the insecurities that had never been shown before were allowed to manifest - as self-doubts that centered on appearance. She had been given memories of dieting to be thin, of dying her hair a different color more than once (a thought that had made him cringe - who would want to hide such a striking shade?), and feeling like being as bolshy as she was made her less than desirable.
What the hell had made the TARDIS think it was okay to give her those memories?! Was it some awful notion of the misguided views of his time? Or was it due to the Doctor's own memories of not being treated well by the other Time Lords and Gallifreyans?
If it was the former, he could snap later at the TARDIS. If it was the latter, he would probably hug her later on. If she forgave him for everything he had to do to protect her.
He insisted on being a team and helping her with the remaining cleanup. They did work well together, got into a rhythm that made the kitchen and dining table cleared before long. Curie sat watching from where she had finished her meal a while before, almost as if she wanted to see what would happen next.
Once they finished, David struggled to find something to say. He was not wanting to actually ask why she wore that dress to dinner because he wasn't sure that he would like the answer.
Or rather, his conscience wouldn't. His body would probably like any answer she gave.
He sat back down and tried to think. He and the Doctor were best mates, so what the hell could he do that wouldn't violate that here?
The real sticking point was how much of the Doctor was in Donna Noble? If 'Donna' was a construct of the TARDIS' imagination, that would be one thing - although David disliked the idea of causing pain to an innocent, which was what she was. But if everything she was was already part of the Doctor, then how much pain could David cause in order to protect them both?
Forget holographic simulators. This was a real Kobyashi Maru situation. He had two unpleasant choices. Keep them from becoming intimate, and thereby hurt the woman he had to pretend he was married to, doing who knew what to the Doctor once she returned. Or give in to her and his desires, and probably lose his best friend's trust, which could hurt the universe in the long run. Which was the lesser evil of the two choices?
“David, you're getting tenser by the moment! What did you do today?!”
Donna's voice broke through his thoughts and made him grin sheepishly. “Just a complicated case. You really don't want to hear the details.”
She thought a moment, and sighed. “Well, fine, but you need to relax.” She stepped behind him and starting gently rubbing his back.
His tension went through the ceiling. “Um... Donna?”
“It's a little massage. I might be no expert, but I know a few things about muscles. Let me treat you.”
David wanted to say no, but how could he? So he silently nodded, and tried to keep his breaths even. A hard task when warm hands - and it dawned on him then that for the Doctor's lower body temperature the hands had always been reasonably warm - worked on the knots he had been building since possibly Christmas Eve 2005. While his muscles relaxed, his mind worked overtime on the shock of feeling like turning around and kissing her was a good idea.
It was not. It could not be. It was beginning to look like her merely touching him was dangerous to his sanity.
As he felt physically better if not psychologically, he turned to thank her. He forgot that the angle put his face right near her chest.
This time she didn't even blush. She grinned wickedly and stroked his cheek. “I think you've earned another treat.”
“What?” he muttered, distracted.
A gleam in her eyes, she leaned down and kissed him.
He froze, at first not wanting to respond. But his lips didn't listen to his brain. Instead they returned the tenderest and most intimate kiss he'd ever had. Oh god, did the Doctor's oral fixation mean she would be a great kisser? Because he felt his insides melting and his heart race. He had to struggle to keep his hands at his sides when they seemed to ache to touch her.
She drew back and tugged on his shirt ever so gently. She beckoned him forward with a finger, and he got up before he knew he was doing it. It was like a train wreck you could never look away from no matter how much you knew it was wrong, and his hands were trembling.
Donna's smile turned positively 'come-hither' as the hand on his sleeves went to cup his face and her free hand slid to his belt. “David,” she purred.
The sensations together drew a growl from his throat and his control snapped. He grabbed her head, planting a hungry kiss on her lips. The momentum made her fall backward, taking him with her.
Fortunately the couch was right there. The fall could have thrown them off the moment, but the fire was lit too strongly. The simple full body contact made both groan into the kiss and try to wrap their arms around each other. Only impatience ensured that their hands started sliding around. His were franticly trying to touch everything through the dress, as if his conscience was making one last gasp at trying to preserve things.
Donna's hands showed no restraint. She undid his buckle and trousers, which made his hands all the more eager and the kiss even more intense.
Curie stood in the entryway, staring for a moment before shaking herself slightly and walking off to sleep. As though she was thinking that she didn't need to see any of this.
Feeling her hands all over his rear made him groan and more desperate for her touch. He just about decided to let her do what she wanted. The little angel on his shoulder had been tied down by the devil on his other, and was transfixed by the scene before him.
It clearly needed self-defense lessons.
With his bum uncovered and her hands on it, urging him closer, his hands went to push her dress up. His hands drew up her thighs and to her hips, and stopped. He broke the kiss on a gasp.
“What?”
“No... no knickers. You're not wearing knickers.”
She grinned at his shocked expression. “I was hoping I wouldn't need them.” She tightened her hold on his rear. “Now less wandering thoughts and more wandering hands. And lips.”
His body needed no further encouragement. He gave in, but even that couldn't make him forget to think about a condom. “Are you sure?”
“Do I look like I want to be kept waiting? I want to feel you. All of you.”
He began to enter her, groaning as the long drought began to fade. Her moans made a lovely counterpoint in his ears, and her expression was one he thought he could easily get addicted to seeing. All too soon, he was in. Panting and grasping mentally for a little control, he had to check. “Did I hurt you?”
She hadn't even noticed the one or two pained gasps she let out. “Let's stay like this a moment. First time.”
David could have believed it if he could have spared one neuron of his brain to think, which he couldn't. Especially when she drew him down for another kiss, even more sensual than the last. He moaned and resisted the urge to rock and thrust, even when her hand caressed him.
They rubbed and caressed each other, hardly aware of what their extremities were doing. Each was so distracted by the other's body that thought was long gone. Even when one more squeeze from her hands triggered his release and then hers.
They came back to themselves slowly, still joined at the hip and unable to move. His face was buried in her neck, and she was grinning madly at the ceiling.
Of course, his face was buried more to hide his growing thought. Oh god, what have I done?
Donna rubbed his hair fondly, stroking his scalp beneath. “Feel better, love?”
He had to focus to realize exactly what she said. “Um... yeah,” he mumbled, grateful for the excuse of tiredness. Never mind that his body felt like it could stay put for a long time and not give a damn about the consequences.
“Can we move to the bedroom? Maybe we can try this again in a little while, if you're up for it.”
The phrasing, combined with her teasing tone, went straight to his groin. Evidently, he was not yet done. This woman would be the death of him!
Chapter Six: Sanity Checks
Rating: heavy T, with some M/MA
Author: tkel_paris
Summary: David Noble thought he had come to terms with the strange feelings the female Doctor inspired, and it seemed to be helped by Martha Jones joining them. But when the Aubertide threaten the Doctor, protecting her requires a cover that will test his sanity and his ability to find the right thing to do. Written for tardis_mole.
Required Disclaimer: The summary should be enough to tell you I own nothing.
Dedications: My good friend tardis_mole, for helping me discover my talent at editing and for being an inspiration. You've challenged me to go beyond what I previously thought I would like, and so this is the farthest I've gone from my comfort zone so far. Who knows where I'll go next?
And another important shout-out: sykira, whose LJ post about John Barrowman's comments about how Doctor Who could eventually go was the ultimate spark for this idea. So I suppose that means the ultimate blame for this lies with the Barrowman. I can only imagine what he would think, although I suspect he would heartily approve. :P
Author's Note: Originally spawned from a different idea that split into three, this is a new version of one of those ideas revived as a birthday present. And it's spawned a slightly AU version as a Christmas present. The original prompt from TM boiled down to this: “The Doctor and Donna in a situation that's never been done before.” Ask and ye shall receive, my friend. Enjoy the second sequel. :D A VERY Belated Happy Birthday, TM! :DDD
Special Disclaimer: I refuse to be held responsible for any $2000/₤2000 lattes, spit-takes, fainting spells, workplace/school gaffes, or falling against/from things that might happen if you're not careful while reading this story. Especially in certain chapters. Read at your own risk. (I put this in because I was warned by one of my betas, cassikat, that my emails should come with a spit-take warning. So I'm looking out for y'all. ;D)
And TM, be careful that you don't hyperventilate from reading some of the sections. I know you. :P And so sorry for the delay. At least I have a legitimate excuse for not working on it last year; we had our balrog to work on. :D
Thanks to cassikat and bas_math_girl for betaing. Couldn't have done it without y'all.
Flipped, Book 3
Started July 14, 2013
Finished December 31, 2015
CHAPTER FIVE: SIMPLY IRRESISTABLE
David returned home with trepidation, and remained in his car for a few minutes. He acted like he was answering messages on his phone, but he was stalling, delaying as long as he felt able to.
When he had finally checked for messages he found two. He read Martha's first, which had on him edge:
Donna is broody. She wants a baby, and soon.
He gulped before he read the text message from Donna. (And when did the TARDIS add the new phone's number to his saved contacts?! It was useful but he still wanted to know.) Donna's text mentioned she would cook his favorite dinner, and it would be ready around 6, assuming he was not delayed. He was, helping the colleague who usually covered for him since he was sometimes called away without the benefit of the TARDIS. But he was not sure that he was merely delaying facing the inevitable.
It made him nervous just thinking in those terms. Like he was on a collision course with something he had no acceptable way to avoid. Even if it might be dangerously close to the truth.
The way she had talked this morning, he suspected that she expected sex tonight. And he was trying to figure a way out without hurting or offending her. You did not make a woman feel undesirable, after all. That was just cruel, and utterly ungentlemanly. If he had to be ungentlemanly to a woman, it was for a good reason. Say she wasn't taking the hint that her attentions or advances were usually annoying and always very unwelcome.
But Donna was not a little girl who pretended to be woman, or some social climber who needed to be knocked down to size. She was the Doctor in hiding, and she was hiding as his wife.
Which complicated everything.
Worse still was the reaction of his colleagues. He hadn't been able to hide the wedding ring, and went with the Grenta Green story the TARDIS had concocted. Beyond that he held information back, which earned him a load of teasing. When he reluctantly admitted she had been disappointed that he had to go in today they shifted the schedules slightly. He would be needed part of the next day, but then he had a whole week to, as one put it, “enjoy your wife's company”.
It was when he was prompted for a photo that he discovered the TARDIS had planted fake photos from the 'wedding'. He had had to send a text to Martha warning her that she was in a few of them, to be prepared for any tales Donna might spin. After he thanked her for her warning.
He entered the house, and immediately noticed the smells of cooking. His stomach instantly growled, reminding him his lunch had been a while ago and not very filling. Curie strolled up to greet him with a happy bark. She was the only one who had adjusted completely to the Doctor's suddenly being different. She acted like it should have been like this from the start. Trying to suppress a grimace, he rubbed her fur. “Good girl,” he muttered.
Unfortunately the usual stress relief that came from petting her did not come.
“You're home!” Donna called from the kitchen. “I've just finished the last dish! You want some wine or a lager?”
Alcohol was the worst thing he could bring into the mix here, but could he delay? “Um... not sure. Bit of a headache.”
“Oh, come in and sit down!” She suddenly burst into the entryway and grabbed his hand. “Let me take care of you for a little.”
He made a point of not looking closely, only noting that she was wearing a black dress. But when she stopped and turned to face him, he nearly choked. It was the dress that he had seen on a hanger back when they were shopping for the new wardrobe, and Nerys had insisted the Doctor try it on. It was also the only dress he had not seen on her - his friends had made sure of that. Probably a good thing since he might have embarrassed himself over the cleavage that stuck out from her body.
As it was he embarrassed himself plenty during the Lazarus Labs mess. Martha had suggested the Doctor wear that dress, and he still couldn't believe he had managed to be coherent. Especially when they were trapped in the machine and the Doctor was struggling to get her sonic out of her hidden pockets.
Only Martha being trapped with them somehow made it less awkward. Even though he had had a glorious view down the Doctor's necklace.
Standing right next to her meant he could see a hint of the same lacy bra she had worn before. Heaven help me, he silently croaked.
“As you probably can smell, I made your favourites. I hope you're hungry, love.”
He was. And he was afraid it wasn't just his stomach.
The following thirty minutes were an exercise in what felt like torture - of the painfully delicious kind. He had been the recipient of the wiles of women who went too far in acting sexy or seductive before, and could recognize such crass behavior a mile away. It was part of why anyone like Rose Tyler never had a chance with him. Never mind that he did not care for ladies who pretended to be something they were not or who could not be bothered to commit completely to a change so it looked natural. But the woman the Doctor had turned into was different. Aside from how she was dressed, she never did anything consciously to draw his attention that way. Oh, she did give him some extra shows if she leaned over the 'wrong' way, but it seemed like she was not aware she was doing it. Nor did she notice that how she ate could be considered sexual at times.
It was scarily like the Doctor, and his body was no less responsive to it than he had been before. He kept feeling like he needed to grip the table to try to shove some of the tension out of him.
It didn't help. At all.
What was not like the Doctor was how bashful she was if he praised her in any way - which he was limiting to the cooking so he didn't embarrass himself. It was like the Doctor's bravado was still there but all the insecurities that had never been shown before were allowed to manifest - as self-doubts that centered on appearance. She had been given memories of dieting to be thin, of dying her hair a different color more than once (a thought that had made him cringe - who would want to hide such a striking shade?), and feeling like being as bolshy as she was made her less than desirable.
What the hell had made the TARDIS think it was okay to give her those memories?! Was it some awful notion of the misguided views of his time? Or was it due to the Doctor's own memories of not being treated well by the other Time Lords and Gallifreyans?
If it was the former, he could snap later at the TARDIS. If it was the latter, he would probably hug her later on. If she forgave him for everything he had to do to protect her.
He insisted on being a team and helping her with the remaining cleanup. They did work well together, got into a rhythm that made the kitchen and dining table cleared before long. Curie sat watching from where she had finished her meal a while before, almost as if she wanted to see what would happen next.
Once they finished, David struggled to find something to say. He was not wanting to actually ask why she wore that dress to dinner because he wasn't sure that he would like the answer.
Or rather, his conscience wouldn't. His body would probably like any answer she gave.
He sat back down and tried to think. He and the Doctor were best mates, so what the hell could he do that wouldn't violate that here?
The real sticking point was how much of the Doctor was in Donna Noble? If 'Donna' was a construct of the TARDIS' imagination, that would be one thing - although David disliked the idea of causing pain to an innocent, which was what she was. But if everything she was was already part of the Doctor, then how much pain could David cause in order to protect them both?
Forget holographic simulators. This was a real Kobyashi Maru situation. He had two unpleasant choices. Keep them from becoming intimate, and thereby hurt the woman he had to pretend he was married to, doing who knew what to the Doctor once she returned. Or give in to her and his desires, and probably lose his best friend's trust, which could hurt the universe in the long run. Which was the lesser evil of the two choices?
“David, you're getting tenser by the moment! What did you do today?!”
Donna's voice broke through his thoughts and made him grin sheepishly. “Just a complicated case. You really don't want to hear the details.”
She thought a moment, and sighed. “Well, fine, but you need to relax.” She stepped behind him and starting gently rubbing his back.
His tension went through the ceiling. “Um... Donna?”
“It's a little massage. I might be no expert, but I know a few things about muscles. Let me treat you.”
David wanted to say no, but how could he? So he silently nodded, and tried to keep his breaths even. A hard task when warm hands - and it dawned on him then that for the Doctor's lower body temperature the hands had always been reasonably warm - worked on the knots he had been building since possibly Christmas Eve 2005. While his muscles relaxed, his mind worked overtime on the shock of feeling like turning around and kissing her was a good idea.
It was not. It could not be. It was beginning to look like her merely touching him was dangerous to his sanity.
As he felt physically better if not psychologically, he turned to thank her. He forgot that the angle put his face right near her chest.
This time she didn't even blush. She grinned wickedly and stroked his cheek. “I think you've earned another treat.”
“What?” he muttered, distracted.
A gleam in her eyes, she leaned down and kissed him.
He froze, at first not wanting to respond. But his lips didn't listen to his brain. Instead they returned the tenderest and most intimate kiss he'd ever had. Oh god, did the Doctor's oral fixation mean she would be a great kisser? Because he felt his insides melting and his heart race. He had to struggle to keep his hands at his sides when they seemed to ache to touch her.
She drew back and tugged on his shirt ever so gently. She beckoned him forward with a finger, and he got up before he knew he was doing it. It was like a train wreck you could never look away from no matter how much you knew it was wrong, and his hands were trembling.
Donna's smile turned positively 'come-hither' as the hand on his sleeves went to cup his face and her free hand slid to his belt. “David,” she purred.
The sensations together drew a growl from his throat and his control snapped. He grabbed her head, planting a hungry kiss on her lips. The momentum made her fall backward, taking him with her.
Fortunately the couch was right there. The fall could have thrown them off the moment, but the fire was lit too strongly. The simple full body contact made both groan into the kiss and try to wrap their arms around each other. Only impatience ensured that their hands started sliding around. His were franticly trying to touch everything through the dress, as if his conscience was making one last gasp at trying to preserve things.
Donna's hands showed no restraint. She undid his buckle and trousers, which made his hands all the more eager and the kiss even more intense.
Curie stood in the entryway, staring for a moment before shaking herself slightly and walking off to sleep. As though she was thinking that she didn't need to see any of this.
Feeling her hands all over his rear made him groan and more desperate for her touch. He just about decided to let her do what she wanted. The little angel on his shoulder had been tied down by the devil on his other, and was transfixed by the scene before him.
It clearly needed self-defense lessons.
With his bum uncovered and her hands on it, urging him closer, his hands went to push her dress up. His hands drew up her thighs and to her hips, and stopped. He broke the kiss on a gasp.
“What?”
“No... no knickers. You're not wearing knickers.”
She grinned at his shocked expression. “I was hoping I wouldn't need them.” She tightened her hold on his rear. “Now less wandering thoughts and more wandering hands. And lips.”
His body needed no further encouragement. He gave in, but even that couldn't make him forget to think about a condom. “Are you sure?”
“Do I look like I want to be kept waiting? I want to feel you. All of you.”
He began to enter her, groaning as the long drought began to fade. Her moans made a lovely counterpoint in his ears, and her expression was one he thought he could easily get addicted to seeing. All too soon, he was in. Panting and grasping mentally for a little control, he had to check. “Did I hurt you?”
She hadn't even noticed the one or two pained gasps she let out. “Let's stay like this a moment. First time.”
David could have believed it if he could have spared one neuron of his brain to think, which he couldn't. Especially when she drew him down for another kiss, even more sensual than the last. He moaned and resisted the urge to rock and thrust, even when her hand caressed him.
They rubbed and caressed each other, hardly aware of what their extremities were doing. Each was so distracted by the other's body that thought was long gone. Even when one more squeeze from her hands triggered his release and then hers.
They came back to themselves slowly, still joined at the hip and unable to move. His face was buried in her neck, and she was grinning madly at the ceiling.
Of course, his face was buried more to hide his growing thought. Oh god, what have I done?
Donna rubbed his hair fondly, stroking his scalp beneath. “Feel better, love?”
He had to focus to realize exactly what she said. “Um... yeah,” he mumbled, grateful for the excuse of tiredness. Never mind that his body felt like it could stay put for a long time and not give a damn about the consequences.
“Can we move to the bedroom? Maybe we can try this again in a little while, if you're up for it.”
The phrasing, combined with her teasing tone, went straight to his groin. Evidently, he was not yet done. This woman would be the death of him!
Chapter Six: Sanity Checks