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Donna looked around her bedroom, her vexation growing by the minute. "All right, where the hell is it?"
Fresh from the shower, clad in a towel, she rummaged through her wardrobe, tossing shoes and outfits and bags every which way. "I know I brought it on board, I'm sure I saw it in here just a few days ago, so where is that case?"
Naturally, no one answered her, so she looked up at the ceiling. "Do you know?"
The TARDIS dimmed her lights in the mental equivalent of Sorry, I wish I did.
"Oh, great," Donna retorted. "The one time I absolutely need it--"
Only an hour ago they'd returned from Pronethera Seven, where they'd spent a whole day locked in a museum full of statues that--She squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn't a prude, she'd been around the block a few times. But some of the displays had... reminded her about other pleasures to be had than traveling with Spaceman.
Other, more intimate pleasures that didn't have any place with Spaceman.
They'd more than reminded her, actually--enough that she'd fled from the Doctor the moment they arrived back on the TARDIS to take a long, cold shower.
Not that it helped any: the figures stubbornly refused to leave her imagination. And the ache was driving her barmy.
After several more minutes Donna gave up. The case was simply gone. And those damn sculptures, oh God--she needed the JackRabbit she'd stashed in that case. Nothing else would make a dent. It wasn't like she was in a position to indulge with someone else, either.
She shoved a fall of damp hair off her face. Wouldn't that be brilliant. 'Doctor, take me home, I need to find someone and get laid.' Or 'Doctor, what's the closest planet where I can buy another vibrator?' She could hear his squawks clear across this mad spaceship of his.
"No offense," she quickly added out loud. "I mean, he's mad, goes without saying, but you're not."
The TARDIS' hum sounded like a giggle. None taken.
"Thanks, love." Well, she and the TARDIS had always gotten along fine. It was good to have an ally sometimes, to keep the Doctor in line.
Donna left the mess on the carpet; that could wait until morning. She unwrapped the towel she'd been wearing and changed into her nightshirt, climbed into bed, and pulled up the covers with a sigh. I'll just have to make do, she thought, sliding her legs up and her hand down. It wasn't like she had a choice.
In a few minutes she'd fully relaxed against the pillow. Her eyes fluttered closed as she rubbed small circles over her mound. She slipped her other hand through her shirt to caress her breast; pleasure at last began to spark along her nerves, setting aside the edginess. It'd be so much better with someone else or with the JackRabbit, she thought, but this was all right. Her hand dipped lower, her fingers reaching for just that spot--
Her door flew open with a resounding thud.
The Doctor burst through, his face agitated. "Donna? Are you all right?"
She shrieked, shot up and curled in on herself. "Doctor! What the hell are you doing? Don't you know how to knock?"
He slid to a stop by her bed and knelt beside it, peering at her up and down. He then stared wide-eyed at the clothes scattered on the floor. The worry in his face climbed exponentially. "What happened? The TARDIS told me you were upset! She insisted I come right away."
Really? She cast a quick glance at the ceiling. Did you?
The ship's hum rose, then dropped, claiming innocence. "I believe you, doll," Donna replied. To the Doctor she said, "Whatever the TARDIS told you, you must have got it wrong, flyboy."
His jaw dropped comically. "You'd take my ship's word over mine?"
"Yeah, actually, I would. Point is, I'm fine, and you can leave now."
Unwilling to back down, the Doctor pulled his sonic screwdriver out of his jacket pocket. "Are you sure?" He aimed it at her and flicked it on.
She slapped the screwdriver out of his hand. "Yes. I'm. Sure. So you. Can. Go." She poked him to emphasize each word, and glared for good measure.
Still thick, he was--he stared at her, kept staring, until comprehension dawned. "I'm--I'm interrupting something, aren't I?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Something, er, personal."
She raised an annoyed eyebrow. "Do you think?"
He spread his hands out. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'll just--" He pointed at the door.
"Yeah. See ya."
He rose, then pivoted and regarded her with a long, thoughtful look. "Although..."
The Doctor sat down on the edge of her bed, reached for her hand and curled his fingers around hers. Donna snatched her hand away and glowered at him.
"Get out."
"I can help."
"Oh, I'm sure you'd like that. Get. Out."
"No--really, I can help if you'll let me. I don't mind."
"I bet you don't."
"Not--I don't mean like that." He grabbed her hand and squeezed her fingers again. "Just that sometimes, it's easier to lie back and let someone else take care of it for you."
"I can take care of myself fine, thanks."
He tilted his head, considering. "Well, yeah, course you can. Except, you're wound up a lot tighter than that. Your hormone levels are positively stratospheric. Your pheromones--"
"My hormone levels--?"
"The museum, right?"
She squirmed, refusing to answer.
"That's what I thought. The museum--sometimes has that effect on humanoids," he added a little sheepishly, and tugged at his ear.
Fuming, she slapped his arm. "Now you tell me? You could have warned me before we went there."
"Ow!" He rubbed his bicep. "I didn't know how you'd react! Honest! I couldn't predict--" He looked at her, his eyes warm and full of concern. "I'm sorry. But let me make it up to you now, Donna."
She opened her mouth, an indignant Make it up? at the ready, but he rushed on, spreading his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "I know, I know, we agreed, no mating on board, but it's not mating, it's more like--what is it you lot call it, friends with benefits? Helping out? Something like that. Well?"
He reached out and turned Donna's face towards him. He's having me on, she thought, but there was nothing but sincerity in his expression. And a big dollop of guilt, too. Probably for taking her to the Pronethera museum in the first place.
But worse, the git was right. She knew she wanted--needed more than her own hand this time.
But this was the Doctor offering.
On the other hand, did that really matter?
"Fine," she relented.
Relief flooded his features. "Okay, then."
"And you'll respect me in the morning too, yeah?" she joked, hating the sudden, nervous quaver that crept into her voice.
He returned her smile. "Oh, we both know you'd kill me if I didn't. And I like living."
She fixed him with her glare. "And don't ever think otherwise."
The Doctor's expression softened. "Never."
She let herself relax and unfold. He wasn't her type, she'd never gone for walking twigs, but for a twig he wasn't half-bad, either. And she loved him with all her heart, daft alien that he was. He squeezed her hand, pulled the covers down and hopped in beside her.
She'd forgotten that under the blankets, her nightshirt had hitched up around her hips, and she wasn't wearing knickers. The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "You really are ginger," he said, amused.
She felt her cheeks flame again. "Don't get cheeky."
"Sorry."
Of course he didn't sound apologetic at all. He reached for the buttons of her nightshirt.
She slapped his fingers. "Hold on, mate, did I say you could undress me?"
"If I'm going to--er, take care of you, Donna--I want to do it properly," the Doctor murmured. "Which means, covering all the erogenous zones." He stroked the first button whilst caressing her inner wrist. A thrill coursed through her body and she bit back a sigh.
"I promise I won't do anything you say not to," he continued. "Is that all right?"
"Go ahead," Donna said. She stared up at the ceiling and added, "I can't believe I'm letting you do this."
The Doctor grinned shyly, focusing on her nightshirt. "Neither can I."
He unfastened the buttons, frowning as he concentrated. He spread the shirt open and tugged it off her shoulders. Donna shivered as the cool TARDIS air hit her overheated skin; she closed her eyes, suddenly afraid of his reaction to her admittedly imperfect body.
"Oh, Donna," the Doctor breathed after a long minute. "You are beautiful, Donna Noble."
She snorted. "I suppose you say that to all the girls. Or is it all the boys?"
There was no flippant retort forthcoming. She opened one eye; the Doctor was gazing down at her, entranced.
"Oi, Spaceman, enough with the ogling."
He looked up at her, and she was taken aback by the fierce tenderness of his expression. "But you are beautiful," he repeated, sounding almost reverent. "You're brilliant."
Donna blinked, her throat suddenly tight; he wasn't only talking about her naked display in front of him. "This isn't helping," she said, trying to distract him, and herself, from something that dangerously skirted the line between friends and--something else she really did not want to think about right now.
He stirred. "Oh, right." He stroked his thumb across her cheek. "Can I kiss you?" he asked softly.
"What? No!"
His face fell a little bit, to her surprise, but he didn't protest. He smoothed locks of her hair off her temple, tucking them behind her ear. "The most efficient means of--"
"Getting me off."
He caressed the curve of her shoulder. "Right--getting you off--is a combination of manual and oral stimulation of the clitoris."
Donna could not quite keep from rolling her eyes. "Here you are, over nine hundred years old, probably have had more sex than all your previous companions combined, and you make it a course in clinical anatomy? That inspires my confidence in you, sunshine."
"Sorry. It's been awhile." His voice squeaked. "Never could keep up with what people call it these days."
Donna never loved him more than when he was all flustered and nervous and contrite, though she'd never tell him that. "The colloquial terms are 'fingering' and 'going down.'"
"Right. I knew that." He gently squeezed her hand, then let go. "So--uhm--lie back for me?"
Dutifully she reclined against the pillows.
"And--er--spread your legs?" He grinned cheekily. "It's not often I get to say that."
"Oi! Watch your mouth!" she chastised, but she let her thighs fall open anyway.
Crazy this was, utterly bonkers, yet she trusted him completely. He shifted himself down until he was kneeling between her legs. She watched his gaze rove over her again, linger over her breasts and stomach; a tiny smile played around the corners of his mouth. The Doctor might be a walking stick, she thought, but he had the deepest eyes, the nicest lips, and the most gorgeously tapered fingers.
And oh God, just thinking of them on her was sending flares from the pit of her stomach everywhere. Bloody alien.
He leaned down and laid his hands on her, smoothing over her skin. His brow pinched in concentration as he caressed her--she recognized that look, he was cataloguing her reactions. Filing them away. For what? What exactly was he feeling, and did she really want to know?
She jumped when he gently pressed a finger between. "Oh, you are wet," he said. "You are completely engorged."
"Tell me something I don't know." Her voice sounded reedy to her ears.
The Doctor flicked at her clit; Donna's toes curled with pleasure. "You like that," he teased, and he did it again. She couldn't hold back a small sigh of pleasure. He then nuzzled her collarbone at the hollow of her throat.
"What did I say about kissing?" she said, albeit weakly.
"As I recall, human females need extensive foreplay to reach climax," he murmured against her skin, "and I'm not kissing you on the lips." He dragged his own down, his fingers rubbing lazy circles over her mound as his mouth reached the swell of her breast. "Do you want me to stop?"
The sudden roughness of his voice pierced clear through her. She shook her head.
"Right, that's a 'keep going', then," he replied, drawing a nipple into his mouth. He rolled it on his tongue, teasing it erect.
"I hate you," she said, but with no force in it.
He pulled off. "I know."
He slid over to lave her other breast, then slowly trailed downwards, his palm grinding into her all the while. Donna began to thrust against it, seeking relief. He dipped into her navel, skirted along her hip, driving her higher and higher until she realized through the swirling heat in her brain that he was simply showing off.
"Okay, that's enough," she said, trying to sound annoyed but only coming across as breathless. "Main attraction, if you please."
"As you wish," he said, and stretched out on the bed between her legs. Idly she noted how his Converse-clad feet dangled off the end of the bed.
Even then he didn't hit the mark yet; he nuzzled up and down her inner thighs, sniffed--sniffed!--and licked everywhere but where she needed it, until she squirmed with the sweet, maddening ache.
"Will you just get on with it?" she snapped.
"Bit tetchy, aren't we?" The Doctor looked up and grinned, then dove down proper.
Donna couldn't repress a sharp gasp at the shock of his cool tongue on her. He tilted her hips up and began to suck and lap in earnest. She felt the skin on her chest flush as heat flooded her, and she bit back a cry--she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction just yet. He flicked his tongue over her clit, lapped up and down her folds, brushed her entrance; grasped her bum to pull her closer in and nuzzled. She trembled at each touch, reaching down to grab handfuls of his ridiculously thick hair.
Of course he had to be good at this--better than good, he had to be brilliant at it, the berk. Then it struck her: "You're enjoying this," she accused.
The muffled "Mmmm" against her folds reverberated through to her spine. He pulled back a bit, and blew a puff of air on her damp, overheated skin. "The real question is, Donna, are you?"
She nodded. Was she ever, and right now she didn't care what he thought. "And don't you stop," she warned, "don't you dare."
She felt his lips curve against her as he slid two fingers inside. Donna rocked her hips in time to his fingers thrusting, clenching, moaning incoherently now; tighter, faster, oh God. She pressed down on her stomach, scrabbled on the mattress for purchase while the Doctor did deliciously obscene things with his lips and tongue.
He reached for her hand and held it tight. She looked down through her haze and found him staring back at her--his eyes jet black and impossibly bright, as if he were consuming her whole. Her breath hitched and she froze, on the cusp; then he spread his fingers inside and suckled right there. She threw her head back and came, shuddering against his mouth and gasping with each burst, swept under by wave after wave after wave.
When she finally became aware again, Donna felt like she could melt into the mattress. The Doctor's mouth was red and glistening when he finally pulled himself up, and he looked extremely pleased with himself.
"So? How was it?"
And not only was the Doctor impressed with himself, but he was also preening. She smiled sweetly. "Oh, I'd say six out of ten. Maybe six point five?" His face fell, and she shook her head fondly. "Oh, what do I do with you? It was fantastic," she said. "Bloody marvelous. Thank you."
His cocky grin returned. "Glad to hear it." He looked away for a long minute, then jumped out of bed. "Well, I should get going now--"
"What? You're just going to leave?" The TARDIS flickered her lights, joining Donna's protest.
"I--ah--I'm sorry. I really am sorry, but--" The Doctor cleared his throat, pulled at his left ear and turned away. "There are--things I need to do in the console room."
Donna caught on. "You're turned on too, aren't you?"
The Doctor refused to move. Oh, I can read you like a book, you git, she thought. Aloud she said, "Turn around and face me, Time Boy. Let me see."
Reluctantly he did her bidding, his face utterly crimson. Her gaze roved over his body, and she saw the prominent bulge in his trousers. "You are turned on," she said, amused by his reaction. (Marveling a bit, too, if she were honest. He was aroused because of her. She felt a tiny thrill of satisfaction.)
"Donna--"
"Let's take care of you, then," she said briskly.
It was the Doctor's turn to fidget under her scrutiny. "That wasn't the bargain," he evaded.
She arched an eyebrow. "So?"
"I wasn't--I'm not expecting anything in return."
"I know. But you helped me, so I'm going to help you. It's only fair to return the favor, like what best friends do," she said pointedly. "So get your skinny arse over here."
He stayed frozen in place--yearning, but uncertain. "I--"
"Move it, Spaceman. Clothes off." Donna budged over and patted the empty space on the mattress.
She covered a smile behind her hand as she watched him undress: he dropped his suit jacket and tie to the floor, fumbled over the shirt buttons, slid trousers and underwear down his narrow hips. Nine-hundred plus years old, and he acts like a teenage virgin. His awkwardness might have been touching--though she wasn't buying that shtick either, not after the mindblowing orgasm he'd just given her.
But her eyes widened when he faced her, His erection was, she had to admit, rather impressive. Not that she'd say that out loud though. (She willfully pushed aside the thought of what it might feel like inside her.)
"What are you waiting for?" Donna said. Dutifully he climbed into bed beside her. He lay on his back, arms behind his head; she studied him, much as he studied her earlier. "Still a long streak of alien nothing," she said warmly.
"But you like what you see."
"Did I say that?" She laid a palm on his chest.
"The way you were staring?" The Doctor nodded towards his groin.
"You wish." Her hand skated downwards.
"You can't fool me, Donna. I know what I saw. Admit it."
"Never." She threaded her fingers through his pubic hair. Not ever gonna answer that one, sunshine. She grinned and grasped him, feeling his cock pulse. She fondled and stroked until his breathing quickened and he thrust into her fist.
"You feel completely human down here," she said after awhile.
"You felt completely Time Lord down there, too. Well, Time Lady."
She huffed, and maneuvered herself until she knelt between his knees. "Ready now?"
At his too-eager nod, she rubbed the head of his cock gently and considered, teasing. "So, is there anything I should know before I start? Like, your semen is blue and permanently staining, or it spontaneously combusts in air, or--"
"Just like a human, Donna."
She smirked at the open note of impatience. Such a bloke. "Right then. Just like a human." And she took him into her mouth in one go.
She mentally cheered at his choked gasp. Leisurely she rolled her tongue around the underside, grasped his bum, dragged her thumbs along the juncture of hip and thigh. She reveled in the tiny grunts coming from that motormouth of his. The Doctor, Time Lord and most powerful being in the universe, reduced to a gibbering mess in her hands? Oh yes.
Donna let her hands wander, mapping that skinny, surprisingly well-muscled body, her lips and jaw working in rhythm. The Doctor held her head in place, clearly fighting the urge to thrust into her mouth. She stole glances upwards, seeing the flush creep down his neck, his abs rippling, his eyes half-glazed. Oh, definitely at her mercy now. She loved this.
Within minutes the Doctor was groaning almost non-stop. God, you just don't shut up, do you, Donna thought fondly. He was close, so close. She looked up; they locked gazes, hers calm, his wild and dark and desperate, seeking release.
"Donna," the Doctor gritted out, "Please."
There we are. Donna smiled around his cock, tightened her lips in one last pull, and held on. The Doctor tensed, swore something in a language she'd never heard before, and emptied himself into her mouth with one long, strangled cry.
His orgasm seemed to go on forever. She kept up as best she could until his spasms subsided and he sank back against the cushions. Panting, he flung his arm over his eyes.
After a few minutes she ventured, "All right there, Spaceman?"
"Oh yes, most definitely." He sighed in bliss. "Brilliant. Thank you, Donna."
"Don't mention it."
He dropped his arm and rose on his elbows again. "And what about you?"
She wiped her mouth and made a face. "I just swallowed space spunk."
The Doctor smirked. "It's not every day you can say that." He waggled his eyebrows and braced for the oncoming slap. "Although it could be."
"You utter pervert." Donna whacked him soundly, then fell against him, giggling. He gathered her close and rolled around with her on the bed, laughing into her hair.
When the giggles subsided, she laid her palm on his arm. His expression shuttered then; he shifted, swung his legs over the edge of the bed and began to collect his clothes. "I should leave now."
She always was baffled how the Doctor's moods could turn on a sixpence; in the space of two minutes he was already trying to rebuild that shell around him. Oh no you don't, she thought. You're not running away, sunshine, I won't allow it. She clutched his elbow. "I want you to stay."
He froze, his gaze guarded. After a moment he said tightly, "Is that wise?"
He was terrified. She could sympathize. "We can't go back. As you said, we can't cross our own timelines to undo things." She shrugged. "So you may as well stay."
He stared at her, then his face lit up so brightly Donna's heart ached. "I'd like that."
He dropped the clothes, relaxed and slid back in beside her. She yanked the covers over them, then wriggled over and nestled against his side, her head in the crook of his shoulder and her hand flat on his narrow chest, over his second heart. The TARDIS dimmed the lights in the bedroom, until Donna felt like they were enveloped in a cocoon.
Her eyes drooped. "I could get used to this," she murmured against his skin, feeling too good in the moment to care how it might stroke his ego.
"Yeah?" The Doctor tightened his embrace.
"Yeah." She nodded against him. "Afterglow is the best."
"Well, orgasm releases tons of hormones and modulators which flood the body," the Doctor explained. "Oxytocin, prolactin, endorphins, they reduce activity in the cerebral cortex whilst simultaneously activating the human limbic system, thereby producing a profound state of relaxation and euphoria after sexual intercourse--"
"Oh, shut up," Donna mumbled against his chest. "Trying to sleep here." Within minutes she dropped off, lulled by the steady beat of his hearts beneath her ear.
After Donna's breathing steadied, the Doctor leaned his cheek against her hair for a long moment, letting himself enjoy said euphoria. Friends with benefits--he could get used to this too, so much. He'd never expected he'd end up here in Donna's bed, in Donna's arms after the TARDIS had called, but oh it was the best...
Wait a minute.
He looked up at the ceiling and mentally addressed his ship, who was humming happily--entirely too happily--around them.
You said she was in distress.
Her pitch hit a note of protest.
That wasn't distress. We've had enough humans travel with us, you should have known the difference.
The chord of protest grew louder.
Oi, quiet! You'll wake her up. We can't have that. We really can't have that.
The TARDIS complied, if a little sullen. A shade of hurt crept in.
Yes, you're right, I'm sorry. You were just watching out for her. You deserve the benefit of the doubt.
She hummed again, graciously accepting.
I swear, between you and Donna--I heard that, don't be smug--oh, forget it. I'm not going to win with either of you, am I. Good night, then.
Her tone grew gentle, a soothing, psychic caress. The Doctor grinned into the darkness. The TARDIS was right--life was good right now, better than it had been in a long while. Tomorrow, he suspected, could be brilliant. He kissed Donna's hair, let himself drift in her embrace, and within minutes he too was asleep.
When she was certain they both were out, the TARDIS looked down at them fondly: her Doctor and her Donna, best friends sailing through the Vortex, safe in her cradle. She wished them peaceful dreams, spirited the missing bag back into the wardrobe, and resumed her self-satisfied hum. Because sometimes, she thought, these things just needed a little nudge.