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foxmonkeyTitle: Light Years Away
Author: foxmonkey
Characters: Ten/Martha
Rating: R
Spoilers: Blink
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one, though I wish I did.
Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
smith_n_jones 1969 Ficathon for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
padawanpooh, who requested: old school; Martha and the Doctor getting away from the city on a holiday/daytrip; smut. She did not want angst.
Working in a shop in 1969 was certainly better than working as a maid in 1913; unfortunately, it was also light years away from being a nearly-qualified doctor in 2007. Even with psychic paper there was only so much the Doctor could do, so after a few anxious days of job hunting, they'd been thrilled when Martha had been hired on the spot at a record shop near their flat.
Martha worked, and her traveling companion spent his time fine-tuning his rather baffling plan to get them back home. He'd crafted an impressive, if dizzying, chart to illustrate his plan -- and to keep it straight in his own mind, Martha suspected, though he claimed he needed nothing so human as a flow-chart to remember the details. "It's simple really," he said over dinner after he finished the first draft. Looking at the chart, following the various timelines and the Doctor's meticulous notations of what would happen where, when, and by and to whom, Martha was struck once again by the sheer otherness of the man.
"You feel it," she said, looking in slight amazement from the chart to the Doctor, who looked back at her as if he had no idea what she was talking about. "Time," Martha said, spreading her fingers over the connecting points on the chart. "It's like...like a sixth sense for you."
"More than six, actually," the Doctor said, the beginning of a smile on his lips. "But yes, that's it exactly."
"More than six?" Martha tried to imagine what anything other than the human-normal five might be like, what a time sense in particular might entail.
Carefully folding the chart and stacking it with his notes in a neat pile, the Doctor glanced at her and smiled; Martha knew that he was amused by her ever-present curiousity about his biology. "I'll tell you sometime, I promise," he said. "Right now, though, I've got a timey-wimey device to build."
+ + +
Building a device to detect temporal anomalies was easy enough in theory, but in 1969, with 1969 technology and practically no spare cash, it was easier said than done. The Doctor, however, was nothing if not resourceful. He'd turned out to be spectacularly rubbish at any kind of job, so he spent his days -- quite gleefully, it seemed to Martha -- fine-tuning the schematic for the device and prowling the streets of their neighborhood for useful cast-offs.
He'd left the flat that morning insisting that something good was waiting in the rubbish bins a couple of streets over, he could "just feel it."
"You're mad, bloke," Martha said, taking the last piece of toast off the plate on the table. The Doctor started to protest, but Martha laughed and waved the toast at him teasingly before crunching a corner between her teeth. "You've got to be lively on your feet, old man."
"That's the trouble with youngsters these days," the Doctor said, shaking his head and making tsking sounds. He began clearing the breakfast dishes off the table. "It's all mini-skirts and free love and don't trust anyone over 30." He sighed dramatically.
"Popping in today?" Martha asked. She reached for her bag and jacket, and crunched another mouthful of toast.
When he wasn't tracking down parts for the time-wimey detector (and Martha could smack him for planting that silly phrase in her brain), he spent a lot of time in the record shop. He chatted about music with Tinker, the owner and Martha's boss, and abused Tinker's good nature by taking more than full advantage of the private listening booths arranged along the back wall of the store.
Martha had hinted that, since John hung around the shop so much, perhaps Tinker could give him a job? Tinker had laughed, saying he probably would if John actually showed an inclination towards work. Martha admitted that it was probably for the best; with the Doctor's track record, he'd no doubt get both of them sacked.
"Don't know," the Doctor said, nose in the air as if scenting suitable electronic parts lurking nearby. "I feel lucky today. Something wonderful's in a rubbish bin close by just waiting for me to find it." He bounced a bit on the balls of his feet, his boundless energy keeping him moving.
"Yeah, quite mad," Martha laughed. She pulled the door closed behind her when she left.
+ + +
Whenever the shop door opened and the Doctor appeared, Martha felt a little thrill; he always scanned the store for her first thing, and when he saw her, he'd meet her with a grin and a quick peck on the lips. He came through the door now; Martha, up front at the register, smiled and leaned over the counter for their usual greeting.
"Ah, my better half!" the Doctor said cheerfully. He smiled and gave her a little kiss.
"So what'd you find, then?" Martha asked, pulling at his coat pockets. "A twist knob or two? An old antenna?" He loved showing off his finds, whether it was the heater coil from a discarded toaster or a few odd lengths of wire. Not everything was useful though, and those odds and ends were currently taking up space at the bottom of the wardrobe in a box marked 'Future Possibly Useful Bits.'
"Oooh! An antenna!" He fixed her with a look. "Yes, I do believe that's what I've forgotten. Martha Jones Smith, you're amazing, don't ever let me tell you you're not." After another few seconds starings staring into the distance, probably imagining the placement of an antenna, he huffed out a breath and looked at Martha again. "Sadly, nothing that exciting, I'm afraid. But I did find this!" He produced a postcard from his pocket: 'Wish You Were Here' was emblazoned on one side. He looked a little wistful. "I thought it would add a humorous, as well as decorative, touch."
Giving him a gentle smile, Martha squeezed his fingers and asked softly, "If we address it to the TARDIS, do you think she'd get it?"
With a smile, the Doctor looked at the postcard and tucked it back into his pocket. "She just might."
"John!" Tinker raised his voice a bit to be heard over the Traffic album that one of Martha's co-workers had just put on. He wandered over and knocked the Doctor on the shoulder in greeting. "So, are you and Martha coming, then?"
The Doctor looked from Tinker to Martha. "I'm sorry?"
"Oh, it's this weekend, isn't it?" Martha said, to cover the awkward moment. "Tink's closing the shop this Sunday; he's treating us all to a day in the country."
"Ah," the Doctor said, and his eyebrows rose meaningfully as he looked at Martha. "My lovely wife neglected to mention it but yes, we'd love to go, and thank you for inviting us."
Tinker looked between the two of them. He seemed about to speak, but perhaps sensing a domestic brewing and thinking better of it, he turned and beat a hasty retreat.
"So, a day in the country," the Doctor said. "We're invited along and you didn't mention it because...?" he asked. Martha stepped away to help a young girl at the cash register, aware that the Doctor was watching her. After the customer paid for her album and headed toward the door, the Doctor was right there. "Yes, Martha, you were saying?"
"Everyone's been so sweet to both of us. It would be fun to just get away for a bit," Martha said. "I thought you'd want to work on your timey-wimey stuff." She looked down at his hands so she wouldn't have to see his face. "I didn't think you'd want to go," she finished.
"Martha, I'm disappointed," the Doctor said. "You should know by now that I like a bit of fun."
"Well, fun to you seems to involve danger and running, lots of running. A quiet day in the country doesn't quite seem your style."
"Martha. You should also know by now that I'm full of surprises." As if to prove his point, he leaned over the counter and kissed her softly. He usually only kissed her for show upon entering and leaving the shop, so yes, it certainly was a surprise.
She didn't know if her blush showed, but Martha's face felt so hot she thought she must be glowing. "What brought that on?" she asked, touching her lips briefly.
"I wouldn't wish this situation on anyone, but I'm so glad you're here with me." He fingered the deep blue top she wore. "You look really lovely today," he added.
That brought a smile to Martha's face, and she couldn't resist rubbing their noses together. "Thank you, Mr. Smith."
"My pleasure, Mrs. Smith."
"Go on then, kiss her proper." Martha and the Doctor turned to see Clara, Tinker's sister, edge behind the counter to change the album, apparently tired of Traffic three songs in.
"Leave 'em alone, Clara," Tinker countered. "It's easy to see that they're in love." He attempted to hand her a Procol Harum album, but Clara just laughed.
"If they're in love," Clara said with a shrug, placing Lulu on the turntable instead, "then he can give her a proper kiss. They're among friends, after all." Her eyes twinkled mischievously.
"Are you saying I don't know how to kiss my wife?" the Doctor asked. He looked playfully indignant, but Martha was beginning to feel uncomfortable.
"He'll kiss me properly at home, thank you very much," she said to Clara. "And you," Martha poked the Doctor, "back to your scavenging."
"Yes, missus." He smiled devilishly, and Martha leaned over the counter for her goodbye kiss. The Doctor cupped the back of her neck, pulling her to him gently. He parted his lips slightly and Martha parted hers, and before she knew it they were kissing properly, complete with tongue, complete with quiet, needy noises from both of them, complete with...an audience. Martha pulled away slowly and the Doctor gave her a smile. Martha glanced over at her work mates, who were goggle-eyed.
"Now that's a kiss," Clara declared.
Tinker looked over the rims of his glasses. "Martha, if I weren't such a heartless bastard, I'd give you the afternoon off to finish what John just started."
"As heartless bastards go, you're not bad," the Doctor smiled. "Anyway, I have things to do." He kissed Martha again, softly this time. "Ta, Mrs. Smith." Hands in his coat pockets, he left the shop, singing along with Lulu as he walked.
+ + +
The day off was everything that Martha had hoped it would be. Along with the Doctor and Martha were Tinker and his wife Linda, Clara and her boyfriend Galen, who was at university and worked at the shop two evenings a week, and Tinker's friends Kenny and Connie, who'd met while working at the same charity shop and were now dating. The four couples piled into Tinker's squarish little van and they rumbled down the motorway.
It was a warm, sunny day, and they'd packed several blankets, a radio, plenty of wine and plenty of food. Galen uncovered a plate of brownies with a flourish; with a waggle of his eyebrows he promised that he'd added a special ingredient, and Martha thought she knew what it might be.
Things took an awkward turn when, after they finished two bottles of wine, they started winding each other up about sex; Martha kept her eyes on the blanket and sipped at the wine in her cup. The Doctor too, was silent.
"Ah, not a word from the newlyweds!" Tinker said, and this brought a laugh. "God, when Linda and I were first married we were at it constantly. Neighbors didn't half bring down the flat pounding on the wall."
"While you were pounding on the other side," Galen said in a stage whisper, and everyone laughed. Martha risked a glance at the Doctor and saw that his cheeks were red.
"Four in the morning, piss drunk...we did it right against a police box," Kenny offered. Connie giggled and hid her face against Kenny's shoulder as the others roared with laughter. The Doctor looked quite startled at this announcement.
"John, you look shocked!" Kenny said. "Surely you've had a wild escapade or two."
"Stop teasing," Linda said, trying to shush the men. "Not everyone goes on about shagging the way you lot do. I think they're sweet." She gave Martha a warm smile, which Martha returned.
The Doctor turned away, his back to Martha; she couldn't believe it, but he seemed to be blushing. She blinked. "What's wrong?" she asked softly, her lips close to his ear.
"Nothing's wrong," he said, but the tips of his ears were red.
Kenny strummed his guitar, clearly amused. "John, your missus is supposed to turn you on. " Martha was baffled until Linda caught her eye and performed a quick pantomime: with a meaningful look downward, she lowered her hand just below her waist. She then lifted her index finger until it was pointing straight out.
Martha's eyebrows rose to her hairline.
The girls communicated silently and quickly with a series of looks and nods, and Linda and Clara took two of the blankets by the corners and began to walk across the grass away from Martha and the Doctor. Tinker and Galen followed dutifully. Connie had to tug at Kenny's arm to get him to move. She gave Martha an apologetic glance before she led Kenny away.
Martha inched over until she was behind the Doctor; she rested her chin on his shoulder. "An erection is nothing to be embarrassed about," she said, leaning close to speak softly. "It's simple biology."
He shook his head but said nothing.
"They certainly don't care what's in your trousers." The couples relaxed on the blankets they'd dragged a discreet distance away, talking and laughing. Kenny played his guitar. Tinker plucked blades of grass and tossed them into the gentle breeze; they drifted down to land in Clara's curly hair.
"See?" Martha said. She slipped her arm around the Doctor's waist, leaned against his back. "It's fine." Martha felt a wave of tenderness for the silly creature. She nosed the hair at his nape and kissed the back of his neck. His breath hitched slightly and she could feel his hearts beating faster; she kissed him again and gave him a very delicate lick. He shivered in response.
"Martha. We're...we're going to be here a while," he said. He sounded close to losing control. He turned to face her. "I could, so easily with you," he said. She kissed him gently. "Martha," he sounded like he was half-pleading with her to stop, half-begging her to continue.
"I shouldn't tease," Martha said softly. "I'm sorry." But she didn't move.
The Doctor suddenly closed the scant distance between them, seeking her mouth with his. "Martha," he murmured. He eased her onto her back. "You'll have to excuse us," he called breathlessly to their friends. "I'm going to shag my wife now." He pulled the picnic blanket up to cover the two of them. Martha squealed and laughed into his shoulder, then kissed his neck in the semi-darkness beneath the blanket. She heard the others twittering and didn't care.
"I hope you realize that we really are about to shag." The Doctor hooked his fingers in the waistband of Martha's knickers and slid them slowly down her legs.
"Oh my God," Martha murmured softly, clutching at the Doctor's shoulders as he stroked her skin. He brushed his fingers lightly over her clit; she inhaled sharply.
"Does that feel good?" he asked, his voice low and husky in her ear. He teased Martha's clit until she wriggled, close to orgasm; he slid his fingers inside her. "You're so wet," he murmured, kissing her again. Martha moved her hips, keeping pace as the Doctor stroked into her with his fingers. When she came, she sighed his name into his mouth.
Martha reached between their bodies to touch him, tentatively at first in case he suddenly objected, then with more assurance when he hummed his pleasure. She quickly unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants and pulled down his zip. "Why, Mr. Smith," she purred, wrapping her fingers around him, "you do have a rather impressive piece of anatomy here."
"Mrs. Smith, your dirty talk could use a bit of work." But he closed his eyes, moving his hips, driving his cock slowly through her cuffed fingers.
"Oh, you want dirty talk?" Martha grinned devilishly. "Mr. Smith," she said, tightening her grip just a bit, "you have quite an impressive cock."
"Better," the Doctor said, his breathing ragged.
"And I'm thinking that a thick," she squeezed, "impressive," she squeezed, "cock like this would fit quite nicely in my hot," she rubbed her thumb across the fat crown, "wet," she licked his neck, "pussy." She took his earlobe between her teeth gently. "So fuck me."
He looked at her and kissed her hard; he fumbled to pull his pants down over his narrow hips and out of the way. The Doctor pushed into her slowly, and Martha felt herself deliciously filled. She moved her hands from his shoulders to his hips, angling her own hips up impatiently.
He fucked her hard and deep, responding to her movements, harder, deeper, setting an insistent pace that made Martha's thighs quiver. She forgot everything but the feeling of his body driving in and out of hers, his muscles flexing under her hands as moved inside her, his breath against her skin as he grunted softly in her ear. When he kissed her, she was the only other person in his universe.
+ + +
They emerged from the blanket to cheers and wild applause.
"Oh my God," Martha groaned, "I can't believe we did that." She turned her face into the Doctor's shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.
"On behalf of my lovely bride and myself," the Doctor paused for a new round of cheers, "if we embarrassed you lot, we're not sorry at all." Tinker and Clara stuck their fingers in their mouths and whistled. The Doctor took a bow.
"Magnificent shagging, old man," Galen said, shaking the Doctor's hand. "You're my hero."
"I wish we were newlyweds again," Linda said, smiling rather naughtily at Tinker.
"And wouldn't it be lovely if we changed the subject?" Martha smiled sweetly. Mindful of the fact that she was no longer wearing knickers, she tucked her skirt rather primly under her legs when she sat down. The Doctor sat behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest.
"Tinker, I'm afraid Martha's going to be late for work tomorrow." the Doctor nuzzled Martha's neck and kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear, the one that made her shiver.
"She can have the day off with pay," Tinker said quietly with a wink. "Call it a wedding gift." Martha smiled and closed her eyes.
1969 was light years away from 2007, but so far it wasn't half bad at all.
Author: foxmonkey
Characters: Ten/Martha
Rating: R
Spoilers: Blink
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one, though I wish I did.
Written for the
smith_n_jones 1969 Ficathon for padawanpooh, who requested: old school; Martha and the Doctor getting away from the city on a holiday/daytrip; smut. She did not want angst.Working in a shop in 1969 was certainly better than working as a maid in 1913; unfortunately, it was also light years away from being a nearly-qualified doctor in 2007. Even with psychic paper there was only so much the Doctor could do, so after a few anxious days of job hunting, they'd been thrilled when Martha had been hired on the spot at a record shop near their flat.
Martha worked, and her traveling companion spent his time fine-tuning his rather baffling plan to get them back home. He'd crafted an impressive, if dizzying, chart to illustrate his plan -- and to keep it straight in his own mind, Martha suspected, though he claimed he needed nothing so human as a flow-chart to remember the details. "It's simple really," he said over dinner after he finished the first draft. Looking at the chart, following the various timelines and the Doctor's meticulous notations of what would happen where, when, and by and to whom, Martha was struck once again by the sheer otherness of the man.
"You feel it," she said, looking in slight amazement from the chart to the Doctor, who looked back at her as if he had no idea what she was talking about. "Time," Martha said, spreading her fingers over the connecting points on the chart. "It's like...like a sixth sense for you."
"More than six, actually," the Doctor said, the beginning of a smile on his lips. "But yes, that's it exactly."
"More than six?" Martha tried to imagine what anything other than the human-normal five might be like, what a time sense in particular might entail.
Carefully folding the chart and stacking it with his notes in a neat pile, the Doctor glanced at her and smiled; Martha knew that he was amused by her ever-present curiousity about his biology. "I'll tell you sometime, I promise," he said. "Right now, though, I've got a timey-wimey device to build."
Building a device to detect temporal anomalies was easy enough in theory, but in 1969, with 1969 technology and practically no spare cash, it was easier said than done. The Doctor, however, was nothing if not resourceful. He'd turned out to be spectacularly rubbish at any kind of job, so he spent his days -- quite gleefully, it seemed to Martha -- fine-tuning the schematic for the device and prowling the streets of their neighborhood for useful cast-offs.
He'd left the flat that morning insisting that something good was waiting in the rubbish bins a couple of streets over, he could "just feel it."
"You're mad, bloke," Martha said, taking the last piece of toast off the plate on the table. The Doctor started to protest, but Martha laughed and waved the toast at him teasingly before crunching a corner between her teeth. "You've got to be lively on your feet, old man."
"That's the trouble with youngsters these days," the Doctor said, shaking his head and making tsking sounds. He began clearing the breakfast dishes off the table. "It's all mini-skirts and free love and don't trust anyone over 30." He sighed dramatically.
"Popping in today?" Martha asked. She reached for her bag and jacket, and crunched another mouthful of toast.
When he wasn't tracking down parts for the time-wimey detector (and Martha could smack him for planting that silly phrase in her brain), he spent a lot of time in the record shop. He chatted about music with Tinker, the owner and Martha's boss, and abused Tinker's good nature by taking more than full advantage of the private listening booths arranged along the back wall of the store.
Martha had hinted that, since John hung around the shop so much, perhaps Tinker could give him a job? Tinker had laughed, saying he probably would if John actually showed an inclination towards work. Martha admitted that it was probably for the best; with the Doctor's track record, he'd no doubt get both of them sacked.
"Don't know," the Doctor said, nose in the air as if scenting suitable electronic parts lurking nearby. "I feel lucky today. Something wonderful's in a rubbish bin close by just waiting for me to find it." He bounced a bit on the balls of his feet, his boundless energy keeping him moving.
"Yeah, quite mad," Martha laughed. She pulled the door closed behind her when she left.
Whenever the shop door opened and the Doctor appeared, Martha felt a little thrill; he always scanned the store for her first thing, and when he saw her, he'd meet her with a grin and a quick peck on the lips. He came through the door now; Martha, up front at the register, smiled and leaned over the counter for their usual greeting.
"Ah, my better half!" the Doctor said cheerfully. He smiled and gave her a little kiss.
"So what'd you find, then?" Martha asked, pulling at his coat pockets. "A twist knob or two? An old antenna?" He loved showing off his finds, whether it was the heater coil from a discarded toaster or a few odd lengths of wire. Not everything was useful though, and those odds and ends were currently taking up space at the bottom of the wardrobe in a box marked 'Future Possibly Useful Bits.'
"Oooh! An antenna!" He fixed her with a look. "Yes, I do believe that's what I've forgotten. Martha Jones Smith, you're amazing, don't ever let me tell you you're not." After another few seconds starings staring into the distance, probably imagining the placement of an antenna, he huffed out a breath and looked at Martha again. "Sadly, nothing that exciting, I'm afraid. But I did find this!" He produced a postcard from his pocket: 'Wish You Were Here' was emblazoned on one side. He looked a little wistful. "I thought it would add a humorous, as well as decorative, touch."
Giving him a gentle smile, Martha squeezed his fingers and asked softly, "If we address it to the TARDIS, do you think she'd get it?"
With a smile, the Doctor looked at the postcard and tucked it back into his pocket. "She just might."
"John!" Tinker raised his voice a bit to be heard over the Traffic album that one of Martha's co-workers had just put on. He wandered over and knocked the Doctor on the shoulder in greeting. "So, are you and Martha coming, then?"
The Doctor looked from Tinker to Martha. "I'm sorry?"
"Oh, it's this weekend, isn't it?" Martha said, to cover the awkward moment. "Tink's closing the shop this Sunday; he's treating us all to a day in the country."
"Ah," the Doctor said, and his eyebrows rose meaningfully as he looked at Martha. "My lovely wife neglected to mention it but yes, we'd love to go, and thank you for inviting us."
Tinker looked between the two of them. He seemed about to speak, but perhaps sensing a domestic brewing and thinking better of it, he turned and beat a hasty retreat.
"So, a day in the country," the Doctor said. "We're invited along and you didn't mention it because...?" he asked. Martha stepped away to help a young girl at the cash register, aware that the Doctor was watching her. After the customer paid for her album and headed toward the door, the Doctor was right there. "Yes, Martha, you were saying?"
"Everyone's been so sweet to both of us. It would be fun to just get away for a bit," Martha said. "I thought you'd want to work on your timey-wimey stuff." She looked down at his hands so she wouldn't have to see his face. "I didn't think you'd want to go," she finished.
"Martha, I'm disappointed," the Doctor said. "You should know by now that I like a bit of fun."
"Well, fun to you seems to involve danger and running, lots of running. A quiet day in the country doesn't quite seem your style."
"Martha. You should also know by now that I'm full of surprises." As if to prove his point, he leaned over the counter and kissed her softly. He usually only kissed her for show upon entering and leaving the shop, so yes, it certainly was a surprise.
She didn't know if her blush showed, but Martha's face felt so hot she thought she must be glowing. "What brought that on?" she asked, touching her lips briefly.
"I wouldn't wish this situation on anyone, but I'm so glad you're here with me." He fingered the deep blue top she wore. "You look really lovely today," he added.
That brought a smile to Martha's face, and she couldn't resist rubbing their noses together. "Thank you, Mr. Smith."
"My pleasure, Mrs. Smith."
"Go on then, kiss her proper." Martha and the Doctor turned to see Clara, Tinker's sister, edge behind the counter to change the album, apparently tired of Traffic three songs in.
"Leave 'em alone, Clara," Tinker countered. "It's easy to see that they're in love." He attempted to hand her a Procol Harum album, but Clara just laughed.
"If they're in love," Clara said with a shrug, placing Lulu on the turntable instead, "then he can give her a proper kiss. They're among friends, after all." Her eyes twinkled mischievously.
"Are you saying I don't know how to kiss my wife?" the Doctor asked. He looked playfully indignant, but Martha was beginning to feel uncomfortable.
"He'll kiss me properly at home, thank you very much," she said to Clara. "And you," Martha poked the Doctor, "back to your scavenging."
"Yes, missus." He smiled devilishly, and Martha leaned over the counter for her goodbye kiss. The Doctor cupped the back of her neck, pulling her to him gently. He parted his lips slightly and Martha parted hers, and before she knew it they were kissing properly, complete with tongue, complete with quiet, needy noises from both of them, complete with...an audience. Martha pulled away slowly and the Doctor gave her a smile. Martha glanced over at her work mates, who were goggle-eyed.
"Now that's a kiss," Clara declared.
Tinker looked over the rims of his glasses. "Martha, if I weren't such a heartless bastard, I'd give you the afternoon off to finish what John just started."
"As heartless bastards go, you're not bad," the Doctor smiled. "Anyway, I have things to do." He kissed Martha again, softly this time. "Ta, Mrs. Smith." Hands in his coat pockets, he left the shop, singing along with Lulu as he walked.
The day off was everything that Martha had hoped it would be. Along with the Doctor and Martha were Tinker and his wife Linda, Clara and her boyfriend Galen, who was at university and worked at the shop two evenings a week, and Tinker's friends Kenny and Connie, who'd met while working at the same charity shop and were now dating. The four couples piled into Tinker's squarish little van and they rumbled down the motorway.
It was a warm, sunny day, and they'd packed several blankets, a radio, plenty of wine and plenty of food. Galen uncovered a plate of brownies with a flourish; with a waggle of his eyebrows he promised that he'd added a special ingredient, and Martha thought she knew what it might be.
Things took an awkward turn when, after they finished two bottles of wine, they started winding each other up about sex; Martha kept her eyes on the blanket and sipped at the wine in her cup. The Doctor too, was silent.
"Ah, not a word from the newlyweds!" Tinker said, and this brought a laugh. "God, when Linda and I were first married we were at it constantly. Neighbors didn't half bring down the flat pounding on the wall."
"While you were pounding on the other side," Galen said in a stage whisper, and everyone laughed. Martha risked a glance at the Doctor and saw that his cheeks were red.
"Four in the morning, piss drunk...we did it right against a police box," Kenny offered. Connie giggled and hid her face against Kenny's shoulder as the others roared with laughter. The Doctor looked quite startled at this announcement.
"John, you look shocked!" Kenny said. "Surely you've had a wild escapade or two."
"Stop teasing," Linda said, trying to shush the men. "Not everyone goes on about shagging the way you lot do. I think they're sweet." She gave Martha a warm smile, which Martha returned.
The Doctor turned away, his back to Martha; she couldn't believe it, but he seemed to be blushing. She blinked. "What's wrong?" she asked softly, her lips close to his ear.
"Nothing's wrong," he said, but the tips of his ears were red.
Kenny strummed his guitar, clearly amused. "John, your missus is supposed to turn you on. " Martha was baffled until Linda caught her eye and performed a quick pantomime: with a meaningful look downward, she lowered her hand just below her waist. She then lifted her index finger until it was pointing straight out.
Martha's eyebrows rose to her hairline.
The girls communicated silently and quickly with a series of looks and nods, and Linda and Clara took two of the blankets by the corners and began to walk across the grass away from Martha and the Doctor. Tinker and Galen followed dutifully. Connie had to tug at Kenny's arm to get him to move. She gave Martha an apologetic glance before she led Kenny away.
Martha inched over until she was behind the Doctor; she rested her chin on his shoulder. "An erection is nothing to be embarrassed about," she said, leaning close to speak softly. "It's simple biology."
He shook his head but said nothing.
"They certainly don't care what's in your trousers." The couples relaxed on the blankets they'd dragged a discreet distance away, talking and laughing. Kenny played his guitar. Tinker plucked blades of grass and tossed them into the gentle breeze; they drifted down to land in Clara's curly hair.
"See?" Martha said. She slipped her arm around the Doctor's waist, leaned against his back. "It's fine." Martha felt a wave of tenderness for the silly creature. She nosed the hair at his nape and kissed the back of his neck. His breath hitched slightly and she could feel his hearts beating faster; she kissed him again and gave him a very delicate lick. He shivered in response.
"Martha. We're...we're going to be here a while," he said. He sounded close to losing control. He turned to face her. "I could, so easily with you," he said. She kissed him gently. "Martha," he sounded like he was half-pleading with her to stop, half-begging her to continue.
"I shouldn't tease," Martha said softly. "I'm sorry." But she didn't move.
The Doctor suddenly closed the scant distance between them, seeking her mouth with his. "Martha," he murmured. He eased her onto her back. "You'll have to excuse us," he called breathlessly to their friends. "I'm going to shag my wife now." He pulled the picnic blanket up to cover the two of them. Martha squealed and laughed into his shoulder, then kissed his neck in the semi-darkness beneath the blanket. She heard the others twittering and didn't care.
"I hope you realize that we really are about to shag." The Doctor hooked his fingers in the waistband of Martha's knickers and slid them slowly down her legs.
"Oh my God," Martha murmured softly, clutching at the Doctor's shoulders as he stroked her skin. He brushed his fingers lightly over her clit; she inhaled sharply.
"Does that feel good?" he asked, his voice low and husky in her ear. He teased Martha's clit until she wriggled, close to orgasm; he slid his fingers inside her. "You're so wet," he murmured, kissing her again. Martha moved her hips, keeping pace as the Doctor stroked into her with his fingers. When she came, she sighed his name into his mouth.
Martha reached between their bodies to touch him, tentatively at first in case he suddenly objected, then with more assurance when he hummed his pleasure. She quickly unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants and pulled down his zip. "Why, Mr. Smith," she purred, wrapping her fingers around him, "you do have a rather impressive piece of anatomy here."
"Mrs. Smith, your dirty talk could use a bit of work." But he closed his eyes, moving his hips, driving his cock slowly through her cuffed fingers.
"Oh, you want dirty talk?" Martha grinned devilishly. "Mr. Smith," she said, tightening her grip just a bit, "you have quite an impressive cock."
"Better," the Doctor said, his breathing ragged.
"And I'm thinking that a thick," she squeezed, "impressive," she squeezed, "cock like this would fit quite nicely in my hot," she rubbed her thumb across the fat crown, "wet," she licked his neck, "pussy." She took his earlobe between her teeth gently. "So fuck me."
He looked at her and kissed her hard; he fumbled to pull his pants down over his narrow hips and out of the way. The Doctor pushed into her slowly, and Martha felt herself deliciously filled. She moved her hands from his shoulders to his hips, angling her own hips up impatiently.
He fucked her hard and deep, responding to her movements, harder, deeper, setting an insistent pace that made Martha's thighs quiver. She forgot everything but the feeling of his body driving in and out of hers, his muscles flexing under her hands as moved inside her, his breath against her skin as he grunted softly in her ear. When he kissed her, she was the only other person in his universe.
They emerged from the blanket to cheers and wild applause.
"Oh my God," Martha groaned, "I can't believe we did that." She turned her face into the Doctor's shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.
"On behalf of my lovely bride and myself," the Doctor paused for a new round of cheers, "if we embarrassed you lot, we're not sorry at all." Tinker and Clara stuck their fingers in their mouths and whistled. The Doctor took a bow.
"Magnificent shagging, old man," Galen said, shaking the Doctor's hand. "You're my hero."
"I wish we were newlyweds again," Linda said, smiling rather naughtily at Tinker.
"And wouldn't it be lovely if we changed the subject?" Martha smiled sweetly. Mindful of the fact that she was no longer wearing knickers, she tucked her skirt rather primly under her legs when she sat down. The Doctor sat behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest.
"Tinker, I'm afraid Martha's going to be late for work tomorrow." the Doctor nuzzled Martha's neck and kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear, the one that made her shiver.
"She can have the day off with pay," Tinker said quietly with a wink. "Call it a wedding gift." Martha smiled and closed her eyes.
1969 was light years away from 2007, but so far it wasn't half bad at all.
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no subject
Date: 2008-02-17 09:53 am (UTC)I'll be in me bunk!
You made a much better job of those prompts than I did !
(
But you do have a few typos)no subject
Date: 2008-02-17 06:22 pm (UTC)Well, I doubt that (haven't read yours yet!), but thank you. :-)
But you do have a few typos
Would you email to foxmonk@yahoo.com (if you don't mind?) It never fails; I can stare something down for HOURS, and I soon as I post I find an error. ;-p Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2008-02-17 06:43 pm (UTC)No you did, definitely !
Would you email to foxmonk@yahoo.com (if you don't mind?) It never fails; I can stare something down for HOURS, and I soon as I post I find an error. ;-p Thanks!
Sure thing - let me finish reading emails and LJ stuff and then I'll whizz them over to you...