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Jul. 1st, 2014

Fair Trade (3/4)

Title: Fair Trade
Author: saaammie
Characters: Tenth Doctor/Donna
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Rating/Warnings: R for sex and angst.
Wordcount: 676
Status: Incomplete 3/4
Summary: The Doctor kisses Donna one day after supper. Donna acquiesces.
Author's note: It's not really finished but I wanted to publish what I had for poor dtstrainers, who has been... I have no words for it. She has been a cheerleader and a beggar and (dare i say it?) a fan and frankly, I get a bit teary-eyed when I think about her words about my writing. I've done the same for other writers but I never imagined that someone would like mine enough to remind me and encourage me to write.  I don't really see myself as a writer at all, really... Or... I write a little, but I don't really have a talent for it, if you see what I mean?

So dear, dear woman, thanks. I hope this helps a little bit, until I can finish this and get to the happy ending and the good sex.

Part 1
Part 2

DWDWDW

They sit in silence. Donna feels weary and a little sick, as if she has done some great feat that has drained her of all energy. Something like lifting a car off a child, or some other nonsense.

The Doctor looks pensive, his expressive brows drawn low over his eyes. He fiddles with a pen left on the table from their last crossword puzzle session, taking off the lid and putting it back over and over again.  He clears his throat a few times, but says nothing.

Donna considers breaking the silence, but she is just so tired, of being the first to speak, of always asking for others’ health, or caring. Of always being the responsible one in every relationship she has always been in. All problems are her fault, always, never the other one’s.

She is weary. Donna just wants to… She can’t even put it into words for herself, that indefinable longing to be understood.

And then the Doctor speaks:

“Penny for your thoughts?”

And the dam breaks, and Donna is talking, words pouring out of her.

“I… It’s… I hate when you don’t do the dishes!” and the Doctor looks at her, baffled. This was obviously not what he expected her to say. He remains quiet however.

“In every relationship I’ve ever been in, I’ve always taken care of… Of everything! I’ve done the dishes, the laundry, cleaned, cooked, everything that I’m supposed to do. And I hate it. I loathe it, housework! And I’ve always had to do it all. And I’m tired of it. I don’t want to do it anymore. I just… “

The weariness overwhelms her, and she feels as if the air has turned to custard, making all her movements sluggish.

“I just… It’s always my fault when it ends. I’d get annoyed and start nagging and he would get tired of me.  And I’ve always understood. It’s always made sense. But I can’t help thinking it’s…All of this,” she makes a gesture encompassing the entire room, the entire world. “it’s not fair. Why couldn’t they just do the bloody dishes so I wouldn’t have had to nag? Is that too much too ask?!”

The Doctor looks like he wants to answer, but he doesn’t have time before Donna continues speaking.
“And sometimes… I just wanted to know they cared. To have them remember my mother’s birthday. To not have to… Do all the work. All the caring.”

“I don’t want to be the only one caring,” Donna whispers. “I quit. I give up. I don’t want to manage any more.”

She giggles, suddenly, as an image pops up in her brain.

“I’ll get 17 cats and knit vests for Nerys’ children. “

“Hell, I’ll get a younger lover and use him and leave him. A boytoy.” And she continues to giggle, until the giggles turn into sobs.

The Doctor still says nothing, but his eyes are intent on her, as if he listens with his entire being and will continue to do so until she has said her piece.

“I’m not made for sex, did you know? I think there’s something wrong with me. I’ve never really… Y’know. Not ever. Almost 40, isn’t it pathetic? I’ve never really believed that women and men could be friends and then I met you, and I thought, but then you… “

She heaves a great sigh.

“I know I’m not much to look at, but I guess you didn’t really have that much choice. What’s the saying? Anything with legs and tits?”

Donna’s lips quirk in an ironic smile.

“Don’t worry, I’m not expecting a declaration of eternal devotion. I understand it was nothing. Well, less than nothing, I guess, since I couldn’t even get you off properly. We can just forget about it, move about our day. Let’s just do that., yeah?“  The hopeful note in her voice makes the Doctor’s hearts clench in his chest.

“Donna… “ he tries and has to clear his throat before he can continue. “Donna, I don’t want to forget about it."

DWDWDW

This keeps being a feminist treatise. I guess I had to get it out somehow.

Jun. 20th, 2014

Week One done

Maybe I haven't said here, but I'm spending the summer working in Germany for a German firm in order to improve my German (how many times can I use the word German in one sentence?) and I have officially finished my first week.

The work is simple enough but the language? Let's just say that unless I start learning a LOT very quickly, it's going to be a very long summer.

But for now, I have just had some pasta, I have wine and chips and am watching Doctor Who on Netflix, and I have two glorious days of weekend with no obligations but some shopping.

And mayhap a bit of writing.

(no promises)

May. 23rd, 2014

Another post unrelated to fanfiction

WE HAVE A THESIS.

It is turned in, on time, and spell-checked. I don't know how and I don't know how much red bull I've had in the last few days, but the master thesis is finally turned in.

Now: Sleep for a week.

Screen Shot 2014-05-23 at 18

I don't look hideous all the time.

After weeks of misery, unwashed hair,  sweatpants and bushy eyebrows, I needed to remind the world (eh. myself) that I actually look like a lovely human being at times.

Picture's from my undergrad diploma prom last November.


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May. 14th, 2014

grad school rant #35454

I hate grad school and theses and finals and housing contracts and classmates and program managers.

I just want to move to a far-away place and read fanfiction in peace.

May. 3rd, 2014

Fair Trade (2/4)

Title: Fair Trade
Author: saaammie
Characters: Tenth Doctor/Donna
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Rating/Warnings: R for sex and angst.
Wordcount: 1,057
Status: Incomplete 2/3
Summary: The Doctor kisses Donna one day after supper. Donna acquiesces.
Author's note:  Lord how I have struggled with this chapter. I knew what I wanted to say, but I think I lack the maturity both emotionally and as a writer to express it properly. Many of the thoughts and feelings Donna expresses in this chapter are from stories I have heard from strangers, friends and acquaintances about their relationships with perfectly normal, non-abusive men. In a way, it is my way to rebel against many of the patriarchal structures that makes heteronormative relationship very difficult. That is not to say that all relationship are like this, or all men. Donna has had bad experiences, and she's someone who puts a very low value on herself, which makes her more likely to end up in relationships were she's taken advantage of. But she's also part of a societal structure that expects men and women to behave a certain way, and that hurts both genders.

/end feminist lecture.

I also realized I couldn't possibly finish this in 2 parts, and I do want to have a happy ending after all. So one more part to go after this!

Part 1
Part 3

DWDWDW

The Doctor kisses Donna one day after supper and she supposes she should have expected it.

Donna doesn’t exactly dislike sex, she guesses it’s nice enough at times to be so close to another person, but she hardly thinks it’s anything to write entire novels about. She wonders sometimes whether she’s simply wired wrong, and that’s why she’s never (and she’s embarrassed to admit it, even to herself) managed to come with a bloke.

She breaks the kiss, and looks up at the Doctor and sees the eager expectation in his eyes. She could never disappoint him, not when he looks at her like he’s been given an unexpected gift (or a banana cream pie) so she leans up towards him to kiss him back. It goes on for far longer than she’s expected, and a warm feeling of arousal is spreading through her body. She thinks it’s nice of him to spend so much time on just kissing. Most blokes she’s known have been eager to get down to the main event, and not wasted any time on making out.. And Donna thought the Doctor wasn’t like all the other blokes, but it seems men are men everywhere, no matter if they’re not human. The thought rolls in her stomach, a grey cloud of disappointment.

Fine, she thinks.  Fine, if sex is what he wants, sex is what he’ll get. But she’ll not stand around her like some lovesick little chit. She pulls away from the Doctor, and proceeds to undress him. His gasp when she strokes him is gratifying. Not so powerful now, Spaceman!

It doesn’t last long, her feeling of triumph. As if he’s heard her, the Doctor swivels, putting Donna with her back against the kitchen counter, and the Doctor’s hands roaming her body.  He touches her slowly and carefully, over her big hips and pouting stomach, and if that weren’t completely ludicrous she’d say he looks almost reverent.

Silly Donna.

She determines to just get this whole thing over with, and then pretend it never happened and if he wants to do it again, she’ll deal with it. She’s had plenty of boyfriends with a higher libido than hers, so she’s no stranger to sex for the sake of domestic harmony.  The nagging was always more annoying than actual act anyway, even if she wasn’t always up for it, and she’s somewhat on an expert on getting it done quickly.

As far as these things go, it feels rather nice when the Doctor pushes inside her.  It’s been a while, and the stretch is a little more than she would have liked, but his limbs are cool against her heated body, and the muscles firm beneath his skin. He really is quite an attractive man (for an alien, of course!).

And then his mouth starts searching for hers and it’s just too much all of a sudden; the Doctor’s body on top of hers, the way he supports his forehead on her shoulder… The tender way he kissed her earlier, and Donna almost wants him to quick and rough, instead of this… pretense of devotion he’s putting up now. She knows what he wants, he knows it, they’re both adults and there’s no point in hiding it behind pretty lies. Those are for little girls and pretty young (blonde) things who deserve them, not old women like her. No, they’re just for practice, she thinks bitterly, echoing her mother’s words.
And suddenly the Doctor is pulling away from her, looking fearful and shocked and confused. Crying, he asks her, why are you crying, and Donna touches her cheek and realizes he’s right. She is crying and she’s not even sure why.

But she knows she wouldn’t give up traveling with the Doctor for anything. Seeing the stars and different universes and all these amazing, wonderful things, she’d do this and much more besides, and surely he’s making far too big a deal out of this. She remembers Tommy, her flame back in uni, who’d looked at her while she sat on the floor crying for hours after her gran died, and thought sex would be a great way to cheer her up. She clung to him desperately afterwards, trying to make him hold her, and comfort her, just for a little while.

She’s sitting at the kitchen table again, cup of tea in her hand. The Doctor must have led her there while she was lost in her thoughts. Donna’s mouth curves downward in a sneer. She guesses a weeping female was not how the Doctor had pictured that this night would end and she blushes with shame.

Staring into her teacup, she mutters: “I’m sorry.  Look, let’s just forget about the whole thing, yeah?”

She’s met with silence.

“Or…” Donna swallows a lump in her throat. “We could try again,” and she hopes he’ll say no.

The Doctor starts so violently she can see it even though she’s not looking directly at him.

“No,” he grinds out between clenched teeth and even though she wasn’t actually keen on another round, the insult still grates at Donna and she’s suddenly terrified that he’s mad, that she’s messed it all up and that he’ll make her go home, go back and be stupid old Donna and no, she won’t. He started this, she thinks, anger bursting forth hot and fiery inside her.

It fades just as quickly as it came when the Doctor moves, quick as a whistle, taking her hand in his. He stands with his head bowed, as if he doesn’t dare to look at her.

“Donna… What do you think I am? A rapist?” and for once he doesn’t babble or stutter.

It’s Donna’s turn to startle.

“What?! No! Why would you even say that? You’re the most wond....” and she breaks off, embarrassed.

“Why then?” the Doctor asks, confusion lacing his voice. “Why would you think I would want to… continue when you were crying.” He sounds disgusted, and Donna realizes he’s disgusted with himself, not with her..

“I don’t care. It was fine, I would’ve been fine. You didn’t hurt me or anything.”
“But Donna, you didn’t like it,” the Doctor says, and sounds all of his nine hundred odd years.

“It’s just…Doctor, it’s never really mattered much before. Whether I enjoyed it or not.”

DWDWDW

Part 3

Please, please let me know what you think!

Mar. 31st, 2014

Fair Trade (1/4)

Title: Fair Trade
Author: saaammie
Characters: Tenth Doctor/Donna
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Rating/Warnings: R for sex and angst.
Wordcount: 958
Status: Incomplete 1/4
Summary: The Doctor kisses Donna one day after supper. Donna acquiesces.
Author's note: I'm obviously incapable of not writing angsty stuff or a clueless Doctor. Also, verb tenses have been fighting me and the end of the chapter feels far too hurried but I need to go to bed. /end rant

Part 2
Part 3

DWDWDW

The Doctor kisses Donna one day after supper.

It would be a lie to say he had never considered it before, but when he actually does it, he hadn’t been thinking about it much at all. He just leans towards her as they are washing the dishes, and presses his lips to hers.

Donna goes still, and her eyes meet his for a moment, wide and surprised. The Doctor draws back, mentally bracing himself for a slap, wondering if he has completely misread the situation and completely bolloxed up their friendship. By a stint of more effort than he’s exerted in a while, the Doctor says nothing and just waits, looking at her face. Donna searches his face, and gives a little sigh.

“Oh,” she murmurs.

And rises on her tiptoes to kiss him back, opening her mouth in invitation. The Doctor, feeling tipsy at her heady taste, wastes no time to trace the contours of her mouth with his tongue, and to begin exploring the depths of Donna’s mouth. His hands end up spread over her lovely body, one hand with long fingers curving around her hip, and one next to her right breast, not quite touching it. The Doctor’s eyes are closed, and he thinks he could kiss Donna Noble for a lifetime and never tire of her taste or the shape of her mouth or how soft she feels under his hands.

All too soon though, Donna breaks the kiss, panting slightly, and the Doctor’s lips give a slight twitch in amusement at seeing how flushed she is, the reddened skin extending down her neck and underneath her blouse. He can hear her pounding heart, even at this distance, and her eyes are wide and glazed.

 She blinks at him, and puts firm hands on his chest, pressing her lips back to his, and begins to ease off his suit jacket. Occupied as he is by thoroughly enjoying Donna’s kiss, it takes the Doctor a little while to realize Donna has undone his belt and is working insistently at his flies. When her humanly hot hands come into contact with his erection, he wonders how he could have missed where her hands were heading, and he lets out a strangled groan as her fingers work up and down, alternating in speed and grip. The Doctor lets his head fall back, supported by one of the kitchen cupboards.

He’s not quite clear on how they went from kissing at a leisurely pace to Donna having her hands down his trousers, but he’s not about to complain about the development. She feels almost too hot against his cooler skin, and Donna’s not the only one panting now. A shiver goes down the Doctor’s spine and he realizes how close is to coming and how he really doesn’t want his first time with Donna to be like this, no matter how nice and hot and (oh Rassilon) her hands feel.

“D-donna,” he manages to croak and she stills her movement and meets his gaze. The Doctor wastes no time, grasping her hands in his, drawing them away, and turning quickly, puts her with her back against the counter in his previous place. Donna gasps, and the Doctor swallows the rest of the sound with his mouth, taking time to re-explore the crevices of hers.

He finally, finally, gets to touch her the way he’s thought about (for quite a while, if he’s honest) and she exceeds every fantasy he could ever have imagined. Her flesh is soft and pliable, and he pictures her as Venus on the shell, the embodiment of womanhood, as he strokes up her hips and sides, over her breasts, and down. He feels ridiculously pleased that she’s wearing a skirt, allowing him access to her pale thighs, and the pair of silky underwear that does little to conceal that her hair is as red there as on her head. He’s about to touch her when she turns the tables again, grasping his cock and jumping up to sit on the counter, guides him into her body.

The initial burst of pressure and heat is almost blinding, and the Doctor supports himself, hands on the counter, gasping. When some rational thought returns to him, he begins to move, grasping her hips for leverage and desperately searching for her mouth and her taste again (her taste, he wonders!). Donna’s head is turned away and he chases her mouth, caught up in her tightness and how she smells like the clearest autumn day and rain to come. If he could only kiss her again he would…

The Doctor stills.

“Donna?”

Donna’s head is still turned away, but returning to himself, he can see the tear tracks on her cheeks.

“Donna?!”

Awkwardly, he pulls out of her, and pushes himself off, stumbling in his haste. Donna starts, and looks up at him.

“Donna, what’s wrong, what happened?” The Doctor struggles to understand, scans his mind for things he might have missed, signals he might have misunderstood. Donna blinks at him and shakes her head.

“Nothing,” she mumbles and reaches for him. “Go on.” The Doctor sidesteps out of her range, a queasy feeling building in his belly.

“Donna, you’re crying, why are you crying?” She reaches up to touch her wet cheeks, and stare at them in surprise, as if she’d not realized she’d been weeping.  She looks dazed, and speaks in a disconnected voice.

“It’s just… I thought… You said you… I thought you weren’t interested, is all. Or well, I thought you were diff-… “ She breaks off, looking resigned, and ancient and very much like a little girl all at the same time. “But I guess it’s a fair trade to get to see the universe.”

DWDWDW

Part 2
Part 3

Stay tuned for more.

Oct. 21st, 2013

The Greater Good (Doctor, Donna)

Title: The Greater Good
Author: saaammie
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Donna (it's only a romantic pairing in my mind here)
Genre: Drama
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for war/dark themes
Wordcount: 537
Status: Complete 1/1
Summary: Not everyone lives. The Doctor and Donna hide from English soldiers during the Napoleonic wars.

In the end, it is one of those hopeless days when everyone doesn’t live. Not even close.

Donna sits at the jump seat, lank hair cascading around and across her face, hands hanging limply at her sides. She doesn’t look at him. Won’t look at him.

The Doctor takes a tentative step towards her, but the closed off look at her face halts him and he stops. He tries to come up with something to say, but witty jokes and vocal mannerisms rhyme badly with what they’ve seen and he’s sure that if he tried to make light of the situation, that, if nothing else, would be impossible for Donna to forgive.

It had been humans. Without asking, he knows that is the most difficult thing for Donna to comprehend. For all her cynicism about the world, she cannot possibly understand this. Shouldn’t have to.

—-

It should have been a light jaunt to Napoleon’s court.

Instead they had ended up in the depths of the Iberian Peninsula, not far from Badajoz. They had come across a small village, hardly big enough to merit the name, just a few farmhouses clustered together as if for company.

They’d hidden together with the villagers, twenty or so men, women and children of varied ages, in a cellar under a trapdoor in one of the smaller houses. A young widow with torn ear lobes, not more than 19, held a newborn baby. The English were coming; their flags had been seen flapping in the distance, waving banners against the wild landscape.

The clapper of hooves, the men’s shouts had cut through the silence leaving a bloody wound. They were searching for food, wine, women.

The villagers, Donna and the Doctor were hidden in the darkness of the cellar, couldn’t see the destruction the soldiers brought, but the sounds painted a vivid picture. The missing villagers made the soldiers angry, the stolen wine made them heated and soon they were shouting threats, egging each other on.

They came closer and closer to the cellar, stepping around the trapdoor, their boots like thunder.

The baby stirred in its mother’s arms. Its eyes opened, still blue, and the mother’s grew dark with remembered fear. She rocked the baby, trying to keep it from waking, from crying, but its moments increased, the beginning of a scream in its throat.

The mother put a skinny, dirty hand over her baby’s mouth.

Overhead the soldiers moved.

The baby’s movements slowed.

Donna stepped towards the mother, a frown on her face. Quick as a snake, the Doctor grabbed her arm, holding her back. She struggled but was no match for his alien strength.

He changed his grip so that he had one arm wrapped around her torso and one across her mouth, mirroring the mother.

The Doctor had seen the cruelty of war.

As Donna’s breathing became harsh and her struggles increased, the noise from the soldiers became unbearable and the room spun for the Doctor and suddenly all was quiet and still again.

Even the baby.

It would never move again.

—-

The Doctor wants to ask Donna if she is all right. Wants to hug her, hold her hand, take away her memories. He wants to explain.

But for once, words fail him, he the great wordsmith, the clever tongue, and so he stands at the console, watching his silent companion mourn a child and a mother and her own innocence.

Notes: I’m not sure if it’s true, but I read a novel where many of the women who were raped during the Siege of Badajoz had torn earlobes because soldiers had torn their earrings out.  I really know VERY little about the Peninsular Wars, and any factual errors are because I’m far too tired to do research. This was written during half an hour's speedwriting to take my mind of finals.

Jul. 24th, 2013

All Else (Donna/Ten) 3/3

Title: All Else
Author: saaammie
Rating: R
Characters: Donna/Ten
Genres: Angst/Romance
Warnings: Dub-con or non-con, depending on your view. Shag-or-die. Could be triggering. And there's sex in this part.
Summary: The shag-or-die cliché. The Doctor gets bitten by a Alpyrixian mosquito and will die unless he gets "relief" within an hour.
Word count: 1,555
Status: Complete, 3/3
Author's Notes: It's finished! I chickened out and made the sex scene less graphic than I originally intended, but I figured it's all learning process and all. Next time though!

Part 1 | Part 2
DWDWDW

Donna cried for a long time, and it left her feeling empty, drained and much lighter than before.  Her body and mind were spent and she could think clearly again. The Doctor, noticing her change in mood jumped to his feet.

“Right-ho, Donna Noble, come with me!” he exclaimed in an almost normal tone of voice.  But he didn’t reach for her hand.

Donna just looked at him.

“Where to, Spaceman? ‘M not exactly dressed for company, am I?”

The Doctor shrugged, and his smile became wider. (A little too wide, Donna thought suspiciously.)

“Don’t need to be, it’s just around the corner.” He made a grand gesture towards the kitchen door.

Grumbling, Donna got to her feet and followed the Doctor out the door, noting the fact that he was careful to keep a respectful distance between them. He opened a second door (just around the corner, of course) and Donna entered a bright room with white walls and the smell of disinfectant hit her nostrils. The med bay.

The Doctor pointed her to an examination table and Donna bit her lip, hesitating.  While she understood the Doctor’s need to fix everything and everyone he came across (Bloody Martian Hero Complex), she knew how bad he would feel about her injuries, knowing that he was the one who caused them. And truly, they weren’t that bad…

The Doctor came up to her, still not touching her. His face was gentle, all traces of despair and anger gone.

“Donna. Let me fix you? Please?” He tried to meet her eyes but she looked away, ashamed.

“It’s not that bad, ‘s gonna heal up in no time anyway,” she mumbled.

Infinitely slowly, the Doctor raised a hand to her cheek and stroked it lightly with two fingers, once and twice.

“I just don’t want you to be in pain. Please Donna?”

How could she refuse him when he used all the power of the Non-Googly Eyes on her. He tried to lead her to the examination table but she shrugged him off.

“Oi, I’m not some damsel who can’t walk without a guide.”

His lips twitched and he let her pass with a sweeping bow, all angles and long limbs.

From the bow, he went directly to picking up various whatits and doodas and thing…thingies from the shelves and counters around the room, working at a speed far above mortal.  Within a minute or two, he deposited all the thingamabobs beside her on the table.

She felt slightly vulnerable, legs dangling and so poked him in the ribs.

“Better not be planning any nasty shots for me,” she mock-growled.

“Oh… No! Not at all! But…” the Doctor said in a distracted tone, looking a bit flustered. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck.

“Well….”He tried again, drawing the word out.
“What?”
“I kind of… need you to…. takeyourclothesoff so I can see what I’m dealing with.” He spluttered the sentence out, like a schoolboy asking a crush to a dance.

Ordinarily, Donna would have teased him about being a 900-year old alien who couldn’t even begin to think about talking about anything related to sex, instead behaving like a upset chicken. But not today. Not after yesterday.

Suddenly, Donna felt the ghost of strong arms pinning her down and she shuddered.  She wasn’t even sure if she wanted him to touch her at all, to be honest. Surely this wasn’t that important.

“Doctor, look, let’s just forget about it, all right? I don’t need any healing.”

The Doctor’s head lifted and he studied her intently, as if she was a space-roach from Jupiter or something equally ludicrous.

He didn’t speak for a few minutes, just looked at her, and Donna wriggled uncomfortably on the examination bed.

“Please? I just want to help.”

Donna steeled herself, then chucked her shirt and trousers quickly, before she had a chance to reflect on the fact that she was going to be naked in front of the Doctor for the second time in the space of a day.

She could hear him inhale sharply when her bruises came into sharp relief in the harsh med bay light.

With the gentlest of hands, and without meeting her eyes, he cleaned the places where teeth had broken skin, before using a dermal regenerator to heal the bruises and cuts. Another machine, smaller and letting out a red light, eased the soreness between her legs. He kept his face almost completely turned away from her during that part.

Donna did her best to let him work; trying to keep her flinches and moans to a minimum.  The ones she couldn’t contain caused him to wince in return.

When he was done, the Doctor stepped away from her and abruptly, without warning, he kneeled down in front of her, hands resting palms up on his thighs, his body and face tense.

“Donna. I am so, so sorry. I don’t think I can ever explain to you how sorry I am. I don’t know how to make it up to you.”

He bowed his head slightly, and his brown eyes disappeared from view, shielded by his dark lashes.

It was a gesture of submissiveness, of most humble apology; something ritualistic about it and it touched Donna to the core. Without thinking, she too slid to the floor, her pose matching his, their knees touching.

She leaned towards him and rested a hand lightly on his knee.

“You are forgiven,” Donna said, her voice ringing out like a benediction in the silent med bay. Even the TARDIS’s hum seemed quieter, as if the time machine was holding her breath.

The Doctor too leaned forward, placing one of his hands on Donna’s leg. He closed his eyes, and it was no effort to rest her forehead against his, savoring the sounds of his breathing. His skin was cool against hers, and the air from his lungs fanning her face was strangely intimate.

She opened her eyes, which had closed of their own volition and blue eyes met wide brown.

Bright red spots lit his high cheekbones.

He made a moment to pull away and get up and Donna lifted her hand, gently placing it on his cheek in a mirror of his gesture earlier.

The Doctor’s head fell forward, as if all strength had left him. Using a little more pressure, Donna titled his face upwards, forcing him to look at her.
His expression was a mixture of fear and anticipation, and Donna could sense his terror of rejection, lurking just behind.

She was suddenly utterly calm, more certain of this and herself than she had ever been in her entire life. It was as if she could see the entirety of time and space, every choice and every potential consequence, and it gave her complete reassurance.

Donna pressed her lips to the Doctor’s.

Unlike the last miserable time, he responded immediately, but gently, oh so gentle. Like a rose petal on the wind their mouths moved against each other for long minutes.

Then it was too much and their mouths opened, tongues and teeth clashing, devouring.  His taste was like nothing she had ever tasted. He tasted like opening the TARDIS doors for the first time, endless and infinite and exciting and frightening.

Donna entwined her hands in his hair, tugging at it and he moaned into her mouth, seemingly unable to stop himself. As they continue to explore each other, Donna couldn’t keep herself from caressing the line of his jaw, his sharp collarbone, a bony hip.

Somehow, she rid him of his many layers of clothing, all while he remained passive. His mouth was busy on hers, but he made no other moves to touch her. As her fingers stroked his erection and he arched towards her, Donna took his hand in her empty one, and put it on her breast. Instantly, he began to rub circles around her nipples through the fabric of her bra, making her strain against his clever digits.

His mouth left hers, travelling along the curves of her body down to close around a nipple, then the other. All the while her fingers continued to explore his erection, finding a sensitive spot, testing the sharpness of her nails and tugging until he gasped.

By mutual consent, they didn’t even move of the floor. It seemed natural for the Doctor to lean back on his elbows, allowing Donna to straddle him. He helped out by thrusting up and both their eyes rolled back into their head.

The coupling was as frantic as the day before, but it was a give-and-take, freely given by both. They didn’t speak except in moans, gasps and later, cries. Donna would only remember it in sharp flashes of memory: the way his neck muscles strained when he threw his head back in ecstasy, the bite of his fingers into her hip bones, his lips on her ear lobe… And their entwined hands as they reached the peak, him soon after her.

Their hands stayed tangled together as they lay panting on the floor, recovering. It was a long time before either of them let go. They dozed and the sweat dried on their bodies. When the Doctor licked it off her later, the taste was a perfect mix of him and her.


 

Jun. 8th, 2013

About a female Doctor

I've finally made up my mind about whether I would like a female Doctor or not.

And I've realized that, YES, I really really would, but not as long as Steven Moffat is showrunner.

I simply don't have enough faith in him to do justice to a female Doctor, not after the last three seasons lackluster writing of female characters.

As Swedish columnist Hanna Fahl pointed out today, the Doctor is, NuWho nonwithstanding, an essentially asexual character. In the last three seasons, I can think of one example of Moffat writing a non-sexualized female character. (Lorna Bucket.) No, actually, the girl they rescued in "Hide" could also be considered non-sexualized.

I'm not saying that a female Doctor couldn't be pretty or sexy, but it shouldn't be her main quality. Saving the world should be.

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