Fic: Thermogenesis
Title: Thermogenesis
Betas: canaana & wendymr
Characters: Martha/Ten/Jack
Rating: Adult (angst, explicit sex)
Word Count: ~5000
Summary: After Japan, Martha gives up.
A/N: This fic was written as a gift for wnnb_darklord in the dwsanta fic exchange and originally posted here.This is not a threesome I'd ever considered writing, and I'm not sure why I picked this out of the many great possibilities in the prompt. Somehow, as I read through my options, many of which would have been far more "my usual," this idea grabbed me and didn't let go.
Thermogenesis
thermogenesis
The generation or production of heat, esp. in the animal body.
(Oxford English Dictionary, Second Edition.)
Martha curls up more tightly, pulling the colorful woolen blankets up to her chin. She's desperate for sleep, but unable to close her eyes. Every time she does, images of Japan flicker over the insides of her eyelids. Dark, billowing smoke. People running through the streets, wailing for their loved ones. Skyscrapers engulfed by flames, screaming torches that seem to reach to the heavens.
A whole country, burned to the ground because she refused to give herself up.
Fire, so much fire. The memory should singe her, but it turns her to ice. She shivers, and the cold is not physical. The yak fur covering her narrow bed provides ample insulation, and the small iron stove in the corner is crackling with a fire of dried yak dung. Its flames tint the hut's aluminum roof a flickering orange.
She told herself she'd just lie low for a day or two, get over the shock.
That was two weeks ago.
She hasn't left this room since Jack's vortex manipulator - activated by a desperate jab to the emergency eject button that was the only control Jack had had time to tell her about - deposited her in the village square and the locals, knowing her face from stories and wanted posters rained down all over the planet by giddy, giggling Toclafane, bundled her into this hut. They bring her food, water, and fuel for the stove, but leave her alone otherwise.
She sees them exchange worried glances, and she knows she's failing them. She's Martha Jones. The one who walks the Earth. If word spreads that she's given up...
Not that she has. She just needs a little more time. A day or two, then she'll get up and get going again. Walk the Earth, tell the story. For the Doctor.
She used to have so much hope. Her belief in him shone bright and clear like the sun, strong and warm and an endless supply of driving power.
But Japan...
It's just the latest in a long line of massacres, starting with the random decimation of the world's population right after the murder of the American president. But it's the first she was in the middle of as it was happening.
Maybe it was just one too many. Maybe it was the close proximity. Maybe it was the Master's voice, echoing from the skies - Martha Jones, give yourself up and I will end all this!
She'd been tempted, but she knew she couldn't trust him. She had to keep going, had to fulfill the Doctor's plan, because it was their only hope.
But when she fled Japan, the last spark of her hope stayed behind, to burn itself out with the country and the people she'd so recently been trying to rally to her cause.
Now here she is, an empty shell, like a jack-o'-lantern after Halloween, its candle burned out and its hull slowly rotting.
The truth is, she's not sure she'll ever get up from this bed again. She knows the fate of the world is resting on her shoulders. But that weight is pressing her down, suffocating her. Without the spark of hope, the fuel of belief, there's nothing to keep her engines running.
Footsteps outside, then a knock on the door. Timid, quiet. She doesn't react, just stares at the ceiling.
Whispering voices. Are they speaking English? It's hard to tell TARDIS translation from the real thing in her mind these days. She's just grateful it didn't stop working when the Master turned the poor TARDIS into a paradox machine.
"Goddammit, you agreed to this!"
Martha looks at the door, startled. That clearly was English, and a voice she recognizes... But she must be mistaken. He can't be here. She left him behind on the Valiant, just like everyone else.
The door opens, and a tall figure ducks into the hut backwards, broad shoulders covered by a sweeping military coat.
Martha stares, soundlessly shaping the man's name with her lips.
He reaches outside and yanks at a flailing arm. Another tall figure, impossibly thin, stumbles into the hut, a head of unruly brown hair hitting the doorjamb.
"Ouch, now really Jack, there was no need to..."
"Doctor!" Martha gasps, struggling to sit up. It's him, he's here, and he's young and strong again.
He turns to her, and his eyes soften. "Martha!" He smiles, and her heart melts in the sudden rush of warmth.
Jack kneels by her bedside. "Hey there, gorgeous."
"How did you two get out?" she asks, finally fighting free of the blankets.
They exchange a glance. The Doctor opens his mouth and closes it again a few times. Jack turns to her and kisses her squarely on the lips.
At first, she freezes, but he is a beautiful man, and alive, and right here, and she's been so alone for so long, and... what the hell. She kisses him back.
The Doctor clears his throat and begins to back towards the door, but he's not fast enough in the narrow space. Without breaking their kiss, Jack reaches behind him and grabs the front of his coat, pulling him closer and closer, finally yanking him down by the front of his trousers.
The Time Lord falls to his knees with an indignant yelp.
Jack breaks the kiss and turns to glare at him. "Don't be an idiot. You know."
"Know what?" she asks, confused. How can they both be here, looking well-fed and healthy and flawlessly coiffed, and why is all hell not breaking loose with the Master searching for them?
The Doctor looks from her to Jack and back. Jack mouths something that looks suspiciously like "Japan," but before she can dwell on it, before the icy cold can take hold of her again, the Doctor's lips are pressed to hers and she forgets to think about Japan.
He seems awkward, almost hesitant, but his tongue is gently pushing against her lips and she lets him in. She's wanted this too long to ask questions now.
His tongue feels cool against hers, and the way he moves seems a bit too methodical, like he's following a carefully-plotted route. But then his arms are around her and he's holding her close, and the heat coursing through her veins makes her decide not to care why he's doing this, as long as he keeps at it.
He does, but his weight starts shifting after a while, so she breaks the kiss and pulls back to look at him. "Doctor?"
"Martha, I... would you like to.... that is... well, I mean... " His eyes are big, and he's actually biting his lower lip.
Jack puts a hand on each of their shoulders. His voice is low, as if trying to calm a spooked animal. His thumb rubs circles on the Doctor's collar bone, but he looks at her when he says "Martha Jones - we thought you could use a friend tonight. Or two."
She looks at Jack, startled. Are they offering sex? Is she dreaming? Delirious? Has she finally gone insane? And... "Two?"
He pauses, then carefully shrugs. "Up to you, hon. I don't need to be here."
The Doctor turns alarmed eyes on Jack. His Adam's apple bobs up and down a few times. Martha realizes that without Jack here to calm him down and nudge him onward, the Time Lord is liable to bolt.
Well, she's always been good at sharing. And it wouldn't be her first threesome. Med students party hardest.
"Nah," she says, "Stay. I don't mind."
Relief floods Jack's eyes, and suddenly Martha remembers how much he wants the Doctor, too. Now she's doubly glad she didn't send him out into the cold. She suspects all of this might be a dream, but if it is, well, they can dream it together.
The Doctor nods. "Right then. Right. Here we are then. Great. Great. Brilliant, in fact! So... errr..."
Jack winks at Martha and shrugs off his coat. "Think we're a bit overdressed, Doc, don't you?"
Martha looks down at herself. She's wearing nothing but a long woolen shirt one of the Sherpa women gave her. Her own clothes are lying in a corner, freshly washed and neatly folded.
The shirt is clean, and she washed her body and hair in a basin of warm water the women brought her only this afternoon... or was that yesterday? Anyway, she doesn't think she smells.
The Doctor wriggles out of his coat and takes an inordinately long amount of time to brush it off, fold it, and put it neatly by the door. Then he carefully studies the string of prayer flags - blue, white, yellow, red and green, fluttering gently in the draft. Jack's already out of his shirt, T-shirt, and boots before the Doctor turns back to them.
Martha swallows. "If you don't want to be here..."
"No! No, I do! Love being here! Nothing better!" He looks at her with a too-manic grin.
"Doctor," Jack whispers sharply.
He stills, and looks at her again. He kneels next to her and gently cups her face in one hand, studying her eyes. After what seems like an eternity, his gaze softens and he leans forward, kissing her lips gently. "Martha Jones. There's nowhere I would rather be, on this night, than here with you. And there's nothing I would rather do than... than..." He falters and looks at Jack.
"Than share our strength with you tonight. Give back what you've been giving to the people of Earth."
"Yes." He turns back to her. "Give back strength." He kisses her, and this time it feels like he means it.
Strength. God, she needs that. Strength, and warmth, and just the goddamn feeling of being held and protected for once, rather than always having to be the strong one, the sure one, the one who Knows.
She's ready to just let herself fall into his - their - arms and enjoy the feeling of being accepted, desired, loved. Because she's sure the Doctor does love her, just not in the way she loves him. But for this one night, they can pretend. And then, no matter what happens, she'll always have this to look back on.
She pulls back and smiles at him, raising an eyebrow. "I'd say you're still overdressed, Mister."
He smiles back and shrugs off his jacket, pulls off his tie, and starts unbuttoning his shirt.
"Wait!"
He stops.
"Let me." She starts popping buttons playfully.
Jack grins and pulls off the Doctor's shoes. The Time Lord turns to him and frowns. "It seems to me, Jack, you haven't finished undressing, yourself."
Jack leers. "Think I've got a problem with that?" His hands go to his flies, but he stops to look at her, and doesn't proceed until she nods.
He is gorgeous. And so much more approachable and flirtatious than the Doctor. Martha suppresses a sigh. She always has to fall for the unattainable ones, doesn’t she? Could never go for the easy option.
She slides the shirt off the Doctor's shoulders and stops to take him in. Scrawny. Hardly a surprise. But his skin is smooth, and those freckles all over his chest are adorable.
The Doctor fidgets and combs his fingers through his hair. His smile is almost sheepish.
Jack's completely starkers now. He grins and reaches for the Doctor’s flies. "Dare ya."
The Doctor sighs and rolls his eyes. "Really, Jack. Do you actually believe that I have a problem with nudity? I'm over 900 years old, I've seen, and been seen, by more species than you could possibly - oi!" That last prompted by Jack opening his flies and Martha pulling his trousers down by the belt loops.
Boxers. Interesting. And... polka dots. Hm. Didn't see that coming. She exchanges a grin with Jack.
The Doctor struggles out of his trousers and looks at her, eyebrow raised. "What? It's a classic!" He almost doesn’t sound defensive. His hand goes to his boxers. "Those, too?"
She nods, her throat suddenly too dry to speak.
The Doctor takes off his boxer shorts. Suddenly, Martha is struck by how real this is. He's really here, and she's really going to get to do the thing she's been fantasizing about for months. She swallows, feeling just as nervous and awkward as he looks.
She keeps her eyes on his face at first, but then her curiosity - and Jack's low whistle - make her look down.
Not too different from human, really. About the same size and shape, though notably hairless, and with a smooth ridge along the top. A ridge that's slowly turning dark purple as the Doctor’s cock begins to stiffen.
She grins up at him. "I think I can work with that."
Jack chuckles.
The Doctor's eyes widen for a moment, but then he smiles. "And what about you, Martha Jones?"
She crosses her arms and grabs the hem of the shirt, but then she hesitates. She's not at her best. She was always thin, but walking the Earth in the middle of a famine has made her lose weight to the point of scrawniness. She knows she's gained a little back with two weeks of lying in bed and eating a steady diet of barley porridge and spicy potato stew. But wherever those curves in all the right places Tish's romance novels are always on about are supposed to be, she's certain she doesn’t have them right now.
Jack speaks up, and his voice is back to the soothing tone from earlier. "You don't have to, Martha. But you're gorgeous, and I'd love to see-"
The Doctor interrupts. "But only if you want! We'll do this however you want. Your choice! We could use the blanket, or..." He worries his lower lip with his teeth.
They're both so sweet. She takes it off.
Jack looks at her and his pupils dilate. "Wow..." he says, quietly but with conviction.
The Doctor has a wrinkle between his eyebrows. "You've not been eating." Jack elbows him sharply, and he seamlessly continues. "But you're very attractive! Perfectly lovely. Just... bit on the thin side."
Martha bristles. "You're one to talk!" She pokes his chest. "We could make two of you out of me!"
Jack chuckles. "She's got you there, Doc."
"Yes, well...er..."
She rescues him with a kiss. He wraps his arms around her and slowly lays her back onto the bed. Without breaking the kiss, he starts caressing her breasts, rolling them gently in his hands, rubbing his long, elegant fingers around her nipples. She moans.
She feels the bed shift and breaks the kiss to lift her head and look down. Jack's leaning over her, his eyes dark with desire. "May I...?" he asks, gesturing between her legs.
Martha hesitates. She wants this, god she does, but her medical training goes too deep. It's one thing with the Doctor, who has completely different biochemistry from her, but Jack is human, more or less. "Do you have protection?" she asks.
Jack straightens, frowning. "I have two blasters and a revolver. But we're out in the middle of nowhere, and..."
"No!" Martha has to bite back a laugh. "Not that kind of protection, silly!"
The frown clears. "Oh! We don't need that."
She's about to protest, but the Doctor nods. "He's right, Martha. In addition to an inappropriate love of guns," - he raises an eyebrow reproachfully - "Jack has 51st century vaccinations and a steri-implant. Nothing you can catch from him."
Oh, okay. She lies back again. "Sorry."
Jack smiles. "Don't be. Better to ask." He bends forward again. "So... may I?"
She nods, expecting him to finger her, and is startled when he bends his head further down. Hearing her sharp intake of breath, he stops and looks up again, hesitating. She gives him a brief nod, then pulls the Doctor into another kiss.
The combination of the Doctor's cool, rough tongue in her mouth and Jack's warm, smooth one on her clit is enough to make her writhe and moan. And then she realizes that some of these moans are the Doctor's.
God, she hasn't felt so desired in years. And especially not lately. Yes, people have wanted her for guidance, counsel, as the bearer of hope - but these two just want her, and the rush of that thought makes her arch her back and dig her fingers into the Doctor’s shoulders. She needs more, and needs it right now. "Doctor," she groans. "I want you inside me!"
He freezes, and she bites her lip and looks up at him worriedly. Was that too much? Jack's stopped licking her, and she sees him lean forward and whisper something so quietly that she can't hear - but the Doctor's hearing is superior, of course.
Whatever Jack said, it worked. The Doctor nods and straddles her thighs carefully. His erection is pointing almost straight ahead, the head of his cock touching her stomach. His eyes are large, and he's almost panting, but his pupils aren't dilated. Maybe Time Lord pupils don't do that.
Jack sits back on his heels. "Should I...?"
"Stay," they both say at the same time. Martha's sure that, weirdly, the Doctor's more comfortable doing this with an audience than without. And she really doesn't want him to bow out.
The Doctor pushes himself up and then slowly enters her. There's an expression of supreme concentration on his face, much like when he's fixing a delicate part of the TARDIS. She closes her eyes.
His cock is cool, though not as cool as his hands and lips. The ridge along the top rubs pleasantly against her as he lowers himself. He starts moving in a complicated rhythm that somehow seems familiar, but just outside her reach. His breathing's getting heavier. She clenches her internal muscles and smirks as that wrings a startled pant from him.
A warm hand starts caressing her side. She suspects that the other one's on the Doctor's shoulder, but she doesn’t open her eyes to see. Instead, she focuses all her senses to remember - the sounds, the smell, every little sensation. She will treasure this moment forever.
When she comes, it feels as if all the blackness in the world has been cast out, pierced by bright light and a glowing warmth. She's completely in her body, riding the feeling, rejoicing in the sensations. Martha Jones on top of the world.
As she starts to come down, the Doctor slowly withdraws from her. She realizes he's still hard. She's not sure if he's come, or what coming even means for a Time Lord. She opens her eyes and sees his face - filled not with ecstasy, but with quiet pride and pleasure at her rapture.
It'll do.
Her eyes wander to Jack. He looks... hungry. Desperate. Like a man in the desert, at arm's length from water and yet knowing he can't have it.
She nudges the Doctor, gestures to Jack with her chin.
The Doctor looks over his shoulder. "Oh! Right... well... What would you...?"
"Can I blow you?" Jack's voice sounds hoarse with want.
"Well, yes, I mean, naturally, but... wouldn't you rather I..." he trails off.
"Wouldn't you rather he screwed you?" Martha says, throwing Jack a lopsided grin. "He's good at it." Jack helped her get what she wanted. She can return the favor. And even if her gut instinct is wrong, breaking the ice like this will help the blokes communicate.
Jack pauses, and his mouth remains open a second too long. "Would you?"
The Doctor nods - he seems uncomfortable, but smiles and leans closer to Jack, kissing him gently on the lips. "How about you decide? You spend so much time doing what I say, it's only fair you make the call tonight, eh?" His eyes shine with genuine affection. No more than that, though. Seems Jack's no luckier in that regard than she is.
Martha crawls up to the top of the bed. "There you guys go. Mind if I watch?" Two hot men pleasuring each other right after they both pleasured her... She feels herself getting moist again at the mere thought.
Jack just leers and shakes his head. The Doctor rubs his temples. "Oh, I suppose." He stops. "Wait, we don't have anything to..."
Jack fumbles with the pocket of his greatcoat for a moment - so that's why he put it right next to the bed - then hands the Doctor a small tube.
"Of course. Might have known." The Doctor sounds wryly amused.
Jack shifts to the bottom end of the bed and bends over it, his forearms sinking deeply into the soft yak fur. "This okay?"
"Yep." The Doctor kneels behind him, readying himself with what seem like almost mechanical motions. When he touches Jack, his face gentles.
Jack is enraptured. He's closed his eyes and is breathing slowly, his face turned upwards and his features glowing.
He's doing the same thing she did, Martha realizes. Savoring every moment. Making a memory. The Doctor’s fingers moving in and out, the Doctor's other hand patting his arse, probably her own smell mingled with the Doctor's on the bed...
"Ready then?" the Doctor asks, and the softness in his tone belies the terse question.
Jack nods. "Been ready for this for a long time."
The Doctor pushes in. Jack moans. The Doctor starts moving in the same strange rhythm he used on Martha - and now she finally recognizes it. It's the rhythm of that melody she'd sometimes hear late at night in the TARDIS. She could never find out where it came from. When she asked the Doctor, he just smiled mysteriously and patted the console.
"Jack, push up a little," the Doctor instructs, and Jack lifts his pelvis off the bed. The Doctor reaches around and wraps his hand around Jack's cock - not stroking or caressing, but letting Jack fuck himself on his hand while he fucks him from behind.
God, they're hot. She starts fingering herself, trying to match the Doctor's rhythm.
When Jack comes, so does she. She's not sure whose lips the cry of ecstasy originated from. She's not sure it matters.
She looks at the Doctor. He slides out of Jack, his cock still erect. But then it starts slowly softening as she watches. "Didn't you come?" she asks, somewhere between concern and hurt.
Jack looks around sharply.
"Huh? Me? Oh!" The Doctor shakes his head. "I don't. Not like you do. Not like this." He gestures up and down his body. "Different physiology."
Jack frowns. "You can't come? Or you can't come with us?"
"I can't come from sex. This is... foreplay, to me. What'd make me come would require a level of telepathy neither of you is capable of." He sounds almost apologetic.
Martha cocks her head. This probably shouldn't be a surprise, but somehow, she'd always assumed... "Did you have a good time, at least?"
"Yep." He grins broadly. "Perfectly nice. Brilliant, even. Don't you worry about me."
Jack frowns. "You sure, Doc? If you need me to, maybe I could-"
The Doctor puts a hand on Jack's knee and squeezes gently. "Jack. I'm okay. You don't need to take care of me. This is about taking care of Martha. And you." He smiles warmly. "Went pretty well, don't you think?"
Jack nods and collapses onto the bed. He crawls forward to lie down properly. Martha prods him to lie on his side, and just manages to arrange herself next to him on the narrow bed. He wraps an arm around her and she smiles. It's nice to be held.
"Jack... we really need to..." the Doctor starts, but Martha hushes him.
"Don't be like that. You can give us a while to savor this."
The Doctor’s eyes go from her to Jack. "Aw, all right then," he says with a grin, and squeezes himself in between Jack and the wall, half lying on the other man. Jack doesn’t seem to mind. "Suppose a little nap would be nice." He wraps a long arm around both of them.
Martha smiles and closes her eyes, snuggling closer. She falls asleep feeling warm and safe, with images of Jack and the Doctor dancing through her dreams.
*****
When she wakes up, Jack's arms are still around her, but the Doctor's no longer in bed with them. She looks over her shoulder and sees him fully dressed, examining every inch of the little hut, from the tin roof to the hard wooden floorboards. He's quivering with repressed energy.
"Ah, brilliant, you're up!" he says with a wide grin. "We need to get going, and Jack refused to wake you."
She raises an eyebrow at the Doctor, turns back to Jack and pointedly says "Thank you."
Jack grins. "Sure thing. For a Time Lord, the Doctor's certainly short on patience."
An indignant sputter. "You know you and I have to get out of here before... something goes wrong. And Martha needs to get going again."
Get going. Oh god. She groans and drops her head back onto the thin pillow. She'd allowed herself to forget about that for one night, had hoped them being here somehow meant everything was all right and she would not have to go back to walking among the suffering, the defeated, the dead.
Jack's arms wrap around her more tightly and he rubs her back. "You can do it, Martha. You're brave. You're strong."
She hears the Doctor kneeling on the floor behind her. A hesitant hand touches her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Martha. I'm so sorry. I wish I didn't have to ask you to do this, but... you have to keep going."
"What's the point?" she asks with more aggression than she meant to. "After -" Japan "after everything? Even if I do make it, the world will never recover from this." Too many people dead, and the rest traumatized. Humanity's been enslaved, humiliated, broken beyond all hope of healing.
Jack gently tips her chin up to look into her eyes. "Martha. I can't tell you what the Doctor's going to do, but I promise you: it'll be all right." His eyes are steady. "I promise."
Things click. God, she's stupid. It's so obvious. How they're here, and healthy, and - well, less perfectly coiffed now, but still far from the broken people the Master likes to broadcast globally to torture her. "You're from the future!" she gasps. "From after the countdown."
"Wellllllll..." the Doctor begins. "Technically, we're from today, only it's-"
Jack coughs. The Doctor stops. "Errrrrrr.... right! Never mind. The point is..."
"The point is," Jack says, "we can guarantee you're not doing this for nothing. It will all be worth it in the end. I swear."
She nods. They know. They're not just trying to cheer her up. Through some timey-wimey madness on the Doctor's part, they know.
The ashes of her dead hopes spring aflame again, glowing stronger and brighter than Rigil Kentaurus - which she knows first-hand is much brighter than Sirius from up close.
She gets up and determinedly starts pulling on her clothes. "All right then, you two. Let's get going."
"One more thing." Jack says. She looks at him. "You need to tell me about last night."
What? "You were here."
He shakes his head. "Not this me. At some point, after the countdown, the Doctor'll be... preoccupied." Martha notices the Time Lord look down and rub his neck. "And you and I will be working on the clean-up. We'll be sitting in a kitchen somewhere, having a break and a cuppa, and I'll tell you how much I admire you for never giving up on us." He strokes her cheek gently.
Martha gulps. She did give up on them. Last night, she gave up, and she was just about to admit it to herself when these two showed up and gave her back her courage. Now she knows why.
She nods. "I'll tell you. And - thank you." She turns to the Doctor. "Really. Thanks."
The Doctor rubs his chin and shrugs. "Least I could do."
She sighs and gets up, grabs him by the shoulders and plants a determined kiss on his lips. He flails for a moment, then returns it tenderly. From the corner of her eye, she sees Jack rolling off the bed and starting to pull his clothes back on. He's getting ready to leave.
She allows herself to sink into the Doctor’s arms, enjoying one more moment of being held, feeling safe and protected. His two hearts beat against her chest in a steady, soothing rhythm. His hands draw cold circles on her naked skin.
She breaks the kiss and straightens her back. "See you after."
She turns to Jack and kisses him, too - just a chaste peck, a sign of friendship and respect, nothing more. "You, too."
Jack flashes her his film-star grin. "See you in-" He stops and the smile wavers for a moment. "See you on the other side." He puts on his coat.
The Doctor beams at her and hugs her tightly. "Good bye, Martha Jones, Protector of the Earth."
She smiles and watches them leave. The Sherpa women will be here soon. She'll have breakfast with them and tell them about the Doctor. Then she'll ask for a guide to be taken to the nearest town. She can probably make it to Kathmandu from here within two weeks or so, and from there to India and Pakistan. Many new cities to see, and thousands, no, millions of people to spread her story to. But in the end, it'll all be worth it. For the Doctor, for the Earth, and for herself.
For the first time since Japan, Martha Jones stands tall, her eyes shining, like the beacon of hope she was chosen to be.
The End
Betas: canaana & wendymr
Characters: Martha/Ten/Jack
Rating: Adult (angst, explicit sex)
Word Count: ~5000
Summary: After Japan, Martha gives up.
A/N: This fic was written as a gift for wnnb_darklord in the dwsanta fic exchange and originally posted here.This is not a threesome I'd ever considered writing, and I'm not sure why I picked this out of the many great possibilities in the prompt. Somehow, as I read through my options, many of which would have been far more "my usual," this idea grabbed me and didn't let go.
Thermogenesis
thermogenesis
The generation or production of heat, esp. in the animal body.
(Oxford English Dictionary, Second Edition.)
Martha curls up more tightly, pulling the colorful woolen blankets up to her chin. She's desperate for sleep, but unable to close her eyes. Every time she does, images of Japan flicker over the insides of her eyelids. Dark, billowing smoke. People running through the streets, wailing for their loved ones. Skyscrapers engulfed by flames, screaming torches that seem to reach to the heavens.
A whole country, burned to the ground because she refused to give herself up.
Fire, so much fire. The memory should singe her, but it turns her to ice. She shivers, and the cold is not physical. The yak fur covering her narrow bed provides ample insulation, and the small iron stove in the corner is crackling with a fire of dried yak dung. Its flames tint the hut's aluminum roof a flickering orange.
She told herself she'd just lie low for a day or two, get over the shock.
That was two weeks ago.
She hasn't left this room since Jack's vortex manipulator - activated by a desperate jab to the emergency eject button that was the only control Jack had had time to tell her about - deposited her in the village square and the locals, knowing her face from stories and wanted posters rained down all over the planet by giddy, giggling Toclafane, bundled her into this hut. They bring her food, water, and fuel for the stove, but leave her alone otherwise.
She sees them exchange worried glances, and she knows she's failing them. She's Martha Jones. The one who walks the Earth. If word spreads that she's given up...
Not that she has. She just needs a little more time. A day or two, then she'll get up and get going again. Walk the Earth, tell the story. For the Doctor.
She used to have so much hope. Her belief in him shone bright and clear like the sun, strong and warm and an endless supply of driving power.
But Japan...
It's just the latest in a long line of massacres, starting with the random decimation of the world's population right after the murder of the American president. But it's the first she was in the middle of as it was happening.
Maybe it was just one too many. Maybe it was the close proximity. Maybe it was the Master's voice, echoing from the skies - Martha Jones, give yourself up and I will end all this!
She'd been tempted, but she knew she couldn't trust him. She had to keep going, had to fulfill the Doctor's plan, because it was their only hope.
But when she fled Japan, the last spark of her hope stayed behind, to burn itself out with the country and the people she'd so recently been trying to rally to her cause.
Now here she is, an empty shell, like a jack-o'-lantern after Halloween, its candle burned out and its hull slowly rotting.
The truth is, she's not sure she'll ever get up from this bed again. She knows the fate of the world is resting on her shoulders. But that weight is pressing her down, suffocating her. Without the spark of hope, the fuel of belief, there's nothing to keep her engines running.
Footsteps outside, then a knock on the door. Timid, quiet. She doesn't react, just stares at the ceiling.
Whispering voices. Are they speaking English? It's hard to tell TARDIS translation from the real thing in her mind these days. She's just grateful it didn't stop working when the Master turned the poor TARDIS into a paradox machine.
"Goddammit, you agreed to this!"
Martha looks at the door, startled. That clearly was English, and a voice she recognizes... But she must be mistaken. He can't be here. She left him behind on the Valiant, just like everyone else.
The door opens, and a tall figure ducks into the hut backwards, broad shoulders covered by a sweeping military coat.
Martha stares, soundlessly shaping the man's name with her lips.
He reaches outside and yanks at a flailing arm. Another tall figure, impossibly thin, stumbles into the hut, a head of unruly brown hair hitting the doorjamb.
"Ouch, now really Jack, there was no need to..."
"Doctor!" Martha gasps, struggling to sit up. It's him, he's here, and he's young and strong again.
He turns to her, and his eyes soften. "Martha!" He smiles, and her heart melts in the sudden rush of warmth.
Jack kneels by her bedside. "Hey there, gorgeous."
"How did you two get out?" she asks, finally fighting free of the blankets.
They exchange a glance. The Doctor opens his mouth and closes it again a few times. Jack turns to her and kisses her squarely on the lips.
At first, she freezes, but he is a beautiful man, and alive, and right here, and she's been so alone for so long, and... what the hell. She kisses him back.
The Doctor clears his throat and begins to back towards the door, but he's not fast enough in the narrow space. Without breaking their kiss, Jack reaches behind him and grabs the front of his coat, pulling him closer and closer, finally yanking him down by the front of his trousers.
The Time Lord falls to his knees with an indignant yelp.
Jack breaks the kiss and turns to glare at him. "Don't be an idiot. You know."
"Know what?" she asks, confused. How can they both be here, looking well-fed and healthy and flawlessly coiffed, and why is all hell not breaking loose with the Master searching for them?
The Doctor looks from her to Jack and back. Jack mouths something that looks suspiciously like "Japan," but before she can dwell on it, before the icy cold can take hold of her again, the Doctor's lips are pressed to hers and she forgets to think about Japan.
He seems awkward, almost hesitant, but his tongue is gently pushing against her lips and she lets him in. She's wanted this too long to ask questions now.
His tongue feels cool against hers, and the way he moves seems a bit too methodical, like he's following a carefully-plotted route. But then his arms are around her and he's holding her close, and the heat coursing through her veins makes her decide not to care why he's doing this, as long as he keeps at it.
He does, but his weight starts shifting after a while, so she breaks the kiss and pulls back to look at him. "Doctor?"
"Martha, I... would you like to.... that is... well, I mean... " His eyes are big, and he's actually biting his lower lip.
Jack puts a hand on each of their shoulders. His voice is low, as if trying to calm a spooked animal. His thumb rubs circles on the Doctor's collar bone, but he looks at her when he says "Martha Jones - we thought you could use a friend tonight. Or two."
She looks at Jack, startled. Are they offering sex? Is she dreaming? Delirious? Has she finally gone insane? And... "Two?"
He pauses, then carefully shrugs. "Up to you, hon. I don't need to be here."
The Doctor turns alarmed eyes on Jack. His Adam's apple bobs up and down a few times. Martha realizes that without Jack here to calm him down and nudge him onward, the Time Lord is liable to bolt.
Well, she's always been good at sharing. And it wouldn't be her first threesome. Med students party hardest.
"Nah," she says, "Stay. I don't mind."
Relief floods Jack's eyes, and suddenly Martha remembers how much he wants the Doctor, too. Now she's doubly glad she didn't send him out into the cold. She suspects all of this might be a dream, but if it is, well, they can dream it together.
The Doctor nods. "Right then. Right. Here we are then. Great. Great. Brilliant, in fact! So... errr..."
Jack winks at Martha and shrugs off his coat. "Think we're a bit overdressed, Doc, don't you?"
Martha looks down at herself. She's wearing nothing but a long woolen shirt one of the Sherpa women gave her. Her own clothes are lying in a corner, freshly washed and neatly folded.
The shirt is clean, and she washed her body and hair in a basin of warm water the women brought her only this afternoon... or was that yesterday? Anyway, she doesn't think she smells.
The Doctor wriggles out of his coat and takes an inordinately long amount of time to brush it off, fold it, and put it neatly by the door. Then he carefully studies the string of prayer flags - blue, white, yellow, red and green, fluttering gently in the draft. Jack's already out of his shirt, T-shirt, and boots before the Doctor turns back to them.
Martha swallows. "If you don't want to be here..."
"No! No, I do! Love being here! Nothing better!" He looks at her with a too-manic grin.
"Doctor," Jack whispers sharply.
He stills, and looks at her again. He kneels next to her and gently cups her face in one hand, studying her eyes. After what seems like an eternity, his gaze softens and he leans forward, kissing her lips gently. "Martha Jones. There's nowhere I would rather be, on this night, than here with you. And there's nothing I would rather do than... than..." He falters and looks at Jack.
"Than share our strength with you tonight. Give back what you've been giving to the people of Earth."
"Yes." He turns back to her. "Give back strength." He kisses her, and this time it feels like he means it.
Strength. God, she needs that. Strength, and warmth, and just the goddamn feeling of being held and protected for once, rather than always having to be the strong one, the sure one, the one who Knows.
She's ready to just let herself fall into his - their - arms and enjoy the feeling of being accepted, desired, loved. Because she's sure the Doctor does love her, just not in the way she loves him. But for this one night, they can pretend. And then, no matter what happens, she'll always have this to look back on.
She pulls back and smiles at him, raising an eyebrow. "I'd say you're still overdressed, Mister."
He smiles back and shrugs off his jacket, pulls off his tie, and starts unbuttoning his shirt.
"Wait!"
He stops.
"Let me." She starts popping buttons playfully.
Jack grins and pulls off the Doctor's shoes. The Time Lord turns to him and frowns. "It seems to me, Jack, you haven't finished undressing, yourself."
Jack leers. "Think I've got a problem with that?" His hands go to his flies, but he stops to look at her, and doesn't proceed until she nods.
He is gorgeous. And so much more approachable and flirtatious than the Doctor. Martha suppresses a sigh. She always has to fall for the unattainable ones, doesn’t she? Could never go for the easy option.
She slides the shirt off the Doctor's shoulders and stops to take him in. Scrawny. Hardly a surprise. But his skin is smooth, and those freckles all over his chest are adorable.
The Doctor fidgets and combs his fingers through his hair. His smile is almost sheepish.
Jack's completely starkers now. He grins and reaches for the Doctor’s flies. "Dare ya."
The Doctor sighs and rolls his eyes. "Really, Jack. Do you actually believe that I have a problem with nudity? I'm over 900 years old, I've seen, and been seen, by more species than you could possibly - oi!" That last prompted by Jack opening his flies and Martha pulling his trousers down by the belt loops.
Boxers. Interesting. And... polka dots. Hm. Didn't see that coming. She exchanges a grin with Jack.
The Doctor struggles out of his trousers and looks at her, eyebrow raised. "What? It's a classic!" He almost doesn’t sound defensive. His hand goes to his boxers. "Those, too?"
She nods, her throat suddenly too dry to speak.
The Doctor takes off his boxer shorts. Suddenly, Martha is struck by how real this is. He's really here, and she's really going to get to do the thing she's been fantasizing about for months. She swallows, feeling just as nervous and awkward as he looks.
She keeps her eyes on his face at first, but then her curiosity - and Jack's low whistle - make her look down.
Not too different from human, really. About the same size and shape, though notably hairless, and with a smooth ridge along the top. A ridge that's slowly turning dark purple as the Doctor’s cock begins to stiffen.
She grins up at him. "I think I can work with that."
Jack chuckles.
The Doctor's eyes widen for a moment, but then he smiles. "And what about you, Martha Jones?"
She crosses her arms and grabs the hem of the shirt, but then she hesitates. She's not at her best. She was always thin, but walking the Earth in the middle of a famine has made her lose weight to the point of scrawniness. She knows she's gained a little back with two weeks of lying in bed and eating a steady diet of barley porridge and spicy potato stew. But wherever those curves in all the right places Tish's romance novels are always on about are supposed to be, she's certain she doesn’t have them right now.
Jack speaks up, and his voice is back to the soothing tone from earlier. "You don't have to, Martha. But you're gorgeous, and I'd love to see-"
The Doctor interrupts. "But only if you want! We'll do this however you want. Your choice! We could use the blanket, or..." He worries his lower lip with his teeth.
They're both so sweet. She takes it off.
Jack looks at her and his pupils dilate. "Wow..." he says, quietly but with conviction.
The Doctor has a wrinkle between his eyebrows. "You've not been eating." Jack elbows him sharply, and he seamlessly continues. "But you're very attractive! Perfectly lovely. Just... bit on the thin side."
Martha bristles. "You're one to talk!" She pokes his chest. "We could make two of you out of me!"
Jack chuckles. "She's got you there, Doc."
"Yes, well...er..."
She rescues him with a kiss. He wraps his arms around her and slowly lays her back onto the bed. Without breaking the kiss, he starts caressing her breasts, rolling them gently in his hands, rubbing his long, elegant fingers around her nipples. She moans.
She feels the bed shift and breaks the kiss to lift her head and look down. Jack's leaning over her, his eyes dark with desire. "May I...?" he asks, gesturing between her legs.
Martha hesitates. She wants this, god she does, but her medical training goes too deep. It's one thing with the Doctor, who has completely different biochemistry from her, but Jack is human, more or less. "Do you have protection?" she asks.
Jack straightens, frowning. "I have two blasters and a revolver. But we're out in the middle of nowhere, and..."
"No!" Martha has to bite back a laugh. "Not that kind of protection, silly!"
The frown clears. "Oh! We don't need that."
She's about to protest, but the Doctor nods. "He's right, Martha. In addition to an inappropriate love of guns," - he raises an eyebrow reproachfully - "Jack has 51st century vaccinations and a steri-implant. Nothing you can catch from him."
Oh, okay. She lies back again. "Sorry."
Jack smiles. "Don't be. Better to ask." He bends forward again. "So... may I?"
She nods, expecting him to finger her, and is startled when he bends his head further down. Hearing her sharp intake of breath, he stops and looks up again, hesitating. She gives him a brief nod, then pulls the Doctor into another kiss.
The combination of the Doctor's cool, rough tongue in her mouth and Jack's warm, smooth one on her clit is enough to make her writhe and moan. And then she realizes that some of these moans are the Doctor's.
God, she hasn't felt so desired in years. And especially not lately. Yes, people have wanted her for guidance, counsel, as the bearer of hope - but these two just want her, and the rush of that thought makes her arch her back and dig her fingers into the Doctor’s shoulders. She needs more, and needs it right now. "Doctor," she groans. "I want you inside me!"
He freezes, and she bites her lip and looks up at him worriedly. Was that too much? Jack's stopped licking her, and she sees him lean forward and whisper something so quietly that she can't hear - but the Doctor's hearing is superior, of course.
Whatever Jack said, it worked. The Doctor nods and straddles her thighs carefully. His erection is pointing almost straight ahead, the head of his cock touching her stomach. His eyes are large, and he's almost panting, but his pupils aren't dilated. Maybe Time Lord pupils don't do that.
Jack sits back on his heels. "Should I...?"
"Stay," they both say at the same time. Martha's sure that, weirdly, the Doctor's more comfortable doing this with an audience than without. And she really doesn't want him to bow out.
The Doctor pushes himself up and then slowly enters her. There's an expression of supreme concentration on his face, much like when he's fixing a delicate part of the TARDIS. She closes her eyes.
His cock is cool, though not as cool as his hands and lips. The ridge along the top rubs pleasantly against her as he lowers himself. He starts moving in a complicated rhythm that somehow seems familiar, but just outside her reach. His breathing's getting heavier. She clenches her internal muscles and smirks as that wrings a startled pant from him.
A warm hand starts caressing her side. She suspects that the other one's on the Doctor's shoulder, but she doesn’t open her eyes to see. Instead, she focuses all her senses to remember - the sounds, the smell, every little sensation. She will treasure this moment forever.
When she comes, it feels as if all the blackness in the world has been cast out, pierced by bright light and a glowing warmth. She's completely in her body, riding the feeling, rejoicing in the sensations. Martha Jones on top of the world.
As she starts to come down, the Doctor slowly withdraws from her. She realizes he's still hard. She's not sure if he's come, or what coming even means for a Time Lord. She opens her eyes and sees his face - filled not with ecstasy, but with quiet pride and pleasure at her rapture.
It'll do.
Her eyes wander to Jack. He looks... hungry. Desperate. Like a man in the desert, at arm's length from water and yet knowing he can't have it.
She nudges the Doctor, gestures to Jack with her chin.
The Doctor looks over his shoulder. "Oh! Right... well... What would you...?"
"Can I blow you?" Jack's voice sounds hoarse with want.
"Well, yes, I mean, naturally, but... wouldn't you rather I..." he trails off.
"Wouldn't you rather he screwed you?" Martha says, throwing Jack a lopsided grin. "He's good at it." Jack helped her get what she wanted. She can return the favor. And even if her gut instinct is wrong, breaking the ice like this will help the blokes communicate.
Jack pauses, and his mouth remains open a second too long. "Would you?"
The Doctor nods - he seems uncomfortable, but smiles and leans closer to Jack, kissing him gently on the lips. "How about you decide? You spend so much time doing what I say, it's only fair you make the call tonight, eh?" His eyes shine with genuine affection. No more than that, though. Seems Jack's no luckier in that regard than she is.
Martha crawls up to the top of the bed. "There you guys go. Mind if I watch?" Two hot men pleasuring each other right after they both pleasured her... She feels herself getting moist again at the mere thought.
Jack just leers and shakes his head. The Doctor rubs his temples. "Oh, I suppose." He stops. "Wait, we don't have anything to..."
Jack fumbles with the pocket of his greatcoat for a moment - so that's why he put it right next to the bed - then hands the Doctor a small tube.
"Of course. Might have known." The Doctor sounds wryly amused.
Jack shifts to the bottom end of the bed and bends over it, his forearms sinking deeply into the soft yak fur. "This okay?"
"Yep." The Doctor kneels behind him, readying himself with what seem like almost mechanical motions. When he touches Jack, his face gentles.
Jack is enraptured. He's closed his eyes and is breathing slowly, his face turned upwards and his features glowing.
He's doing the same thing she did, Martha realizes. Savoring every moment. Making a memory. The Doctor’s fingers moving in and out, the Doctor's other hand patting his arse, probably her own smell mingled with the Doctor's on the bed...
"Ready then?" the Doctor asks, and the softness in his tone belies the terse question.
Jack nods. "Been ready for this for a long time."
The Doctor pushes in. Jack moans. The Doctor starts moving in the same strange rhythm he used on Martha - and now she finally recognizes it. It's the rhythm of that melody she'd sometimes hear late at night in the TARDIS. She could never find out where it came from. When she asked the Doctor, he just smiled mysteriously and patted the console.
"Jack, push up a little," the Doctor instructs, and Jack lifts his pelvis off the bed. The Doctor reaches around and wraps his hand around Jack's cock - not stroking or caressing, but letting Jack fuck himself on his hand while he fucks him from behind.
God, they're hot. She starts fingering herself, trying to match the Doctor's rhythm.
When Jack comes, so does she. She's not sure whose lips the cry of ecstasy originated from. She's not sure it matters.
She looks at the Doctor. He slides out of Jack, his cock still erect. But then it starts slowly softening as she watches. "Didn't you come?" she asks, somewhere between concern and hurt.
Jack looks around sharply.
"Huh? Me? Oh!" The Doctor shakes his head. "I don't. Not like you do. Not like this." He gestures up and down his body. "Different physiology."
Jack frowns. "You can't come? Or you can't come with us?"
"I can't come from sex. This is... foreplay, to me. What'd make me come would require a level of telepathy neither of you is capable of." He sounds almost apologetic.
Martha cocks her head. This probably shouldn't be a surprise, but somehow, she'd always assumed... "Did you have a good time, at least?"
"Yep." He grins broadly. "Perfectly nice. Brilliant, even. Don't you worry about me."
Jack frowns. "You sure, Doc? If you need me to, maybe I could-"
The Doctor puts a hand on Jack's knee and squeezes gently. "Jack. I'm okay. You don't need to take care of me. This is about taking care of Martha. And you." He smiles warmly. "Went pretty well, don't you think?"
Jack nods and collapses onto the bed. He crawls forward to lie down properly. Martha prods him to lie on his side, and just manages to arrange herself next to him on the narrow bed. He wraps an arm around her and she smiles. It's nice to be held.
"Jack... we really need to..." the Doctor starts, but Martha hushes him.
"Don't be like that. You can give us a while to savor this."
The Doctor’s eyes go from her to Jack. "Aw, all right then," he says with a grin, and squeezes himself in between Jack and the wall, half lying on the other man. Jack doesn’t seem to mind. "Suppose a little nap would be nice." He wraps a long arm around both of them.
Martha smiles and closes her eyes, snuggling closer. She falls asleep feeling warm and safe, with images of Jack and the Doctor dancing through her dreams.
*****
When she wakes up, Jack's arms are still around her, but the Doctor's no longer in bed with them. She looks over her shoulder and sees him fully dressed, examining every inch of the little hut, from the tin roof to the hard wooden floorboards. He's quivering with repressed energy.
"Ah, brilliant, you're up!" he says with a wide grin. "We need to get going, and Jack refused to wake you."
She raises an eyebrow at the Doctor, turns back to Jack and pointedly says "Thank you."
Jack grins. "Sure thing. For a Time Lord, the Doctor's certainly short on patience."
An indignant sputter. "You know you and I have to get out of here before... something goes wrong. And Martha needs to get going again."
Get going. Oh god. She groans and drops her head back onto the thin pillow. She'd allowed herself to forget about that for one night, had hoped them being here somehow meant everything was all right and she would not have to go back to walking among the suffering, the defeated, the dead.
Jack's arms wrap around her more tightly and he rubs her back. "You can do it, Martha. You're brave. You're strong."
She hears the Doctor kneeling on the floor behind her. A hesitant hand touches her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Martha. I'm so sorry. I wish I didn't have to ask you to do this, but... you have to keep going."
"What's the point?" she asks with more aggression than she meant to. "After -" Japan "after everything? Even if I do make it, the world will never recover from this." Too many people dead, and the rest traumatized. Humanity's been enslaved, humiliated, broken beyond all hope of healing.
Jack gently tips her chin up to look into her eyes. "Martha. I can't tell you what the Doctor's going to do, but I promise you: it'll be all right." His eyes are steady. "I promise."
Things click. God, she's stupid. It's so obvious. How they're here, and healthy, and - well, less perfectly coiffed now, but still far from the broken people the Master likes to broadcast globally to torture her. "You're from the future!" she gasps. "From after the countdown."
"Wellllllll..." the Doctor begins. "Technically, we're from today, only it's-"
Jack coughs. The Doctor stops. "Errrrrrr.... right! Never mind. The point is..."
"The point is," Jack says, "we can guarantee you're not doing this for nothing. It will all be worth it in the end. I swear."
She nods. They know. They're not just trying to cheer her up. Through some timey-wimey madness on the Doctor's part, they know.
The ashes of her dead hopes spring aflame again, glowing stronger and brighter than Rigil Kentaurus - which she knows first-hand is much brighter than Sirius from up close.
She gets up and determinedly starts pulling on her clothes. "All right then, you two. Let's get going."
"One more thing." Jack says. She looks at him. "You need to tell me about last night."
What? "You were here."
He shakes his head. "Not this me. At some point, after the countdown, the Doctor'll be... preoccupied." Martha notices the Time Lord look down and rub his neck. "And you and I will be working on the clean-up. We'll be sitting in a kitchen somewhere, having a break and a cuppa, and I'll tell you how much I admire you for never giving up on us." He strokes her cheek gently.
Martha gulps. She did give up on them. Last night, she gave up, and she was just about to admit it to herself when these two showed up and gave her back her courage. Now she knows why.
She nods. "I'll tell you. And - thank you." She turns to the Doctor. "Really. Thanks."
The Doctor rubs his chin and shrugs. "Least I could do."
She sighs and gets up, grabs him by the shoulders and plants a determined kiss on his lips. He flails for a moment, then returns it tenderly. From the corner of her eye, she sees Jack rolling off the bed and starting to pull his clothes back on. He's getting ready to leave.
She allows herself to sink into the Doctor’s arms, enjoying one more moment of being held, feeling safe and protected. His two hearts beat against her chest in a steady, soothing rhythm. His hands draw cold circles on her naked skin.
She breaks the kiss and straightens her back. "See you after."
She turns to Jack and kisses him, too - just a chaste peck, a sign of friendship and respect, nothing more. "You, too."
Jack flashes her his film-star grin. "See you in-" He stops and the smile wavers for a moment. "See you on the other side." He puts on his coat.
The Doctor beams at her and hugs her tightly. "Good bye, Martha Jones, Protector of the Earth."
She smiles and watches them leave. The Sherpa women will be here soon. She'll have breakfast with them and tell them about the Doctor. Then she'll ask for a guide to be taken to the nearest town. She can probably make it to Kathmandu from here within two weeks or so, and from there to India and Pakistan. Many new cities to see, and thousands, no, millions of people to spread her story to. But in the end, it'll all be worth it. For the Doctor, for the Earth, and for herself.
For the first time since Japan, Martha Jones stands tall, her eyes shining, like the beacon of hope she was chosen to be.
The End