Center of the Universe, Part 1/1
Title: Center of the Universe
Author: radiantbaby
Characters/Pairings: Tennant!Casanova/Martha, 10/Martha
Word Count: 4962
Genre: Smutty romance
Rating: R for sexual situations [nothing too graphic]
Spoilers: Human Nature/Family of Blood [specifically this story takes place sometime between that 2-parter and Blink, I suppose]
Summary: Martha and the Doctor travel to 18th century Venice and meet the great Casanova.
Disclaimer: All your Doctor Who are belong to us Sadly, I own nothing related to Doctor Who et al, though I have Ten(nant) and the TARDIS currently on my wish list (didn’t get either for Christmas though - bugger!).
Author Notes: This story was inspired by the drabble prompt: “Martha meets Casanova - as played by David Tennant (by persiflage_1)”. It was a prompt during the 1000 Drabbles of Awesome over on lifeonmartha that recently ended. Obviously I have missed the deadline on that and, more importantly, I have certainly gone past the length of a drabble (I couldn’t help myself!), but here it is nonetheless. This story is a bit of an experiment in non-linear storytelling. I am not really sure that I am happy with it and it was a real challenge for me to write. The italicized bits will hopefully make more sense as the story unfolds. Or so I hope. I am not sure if it all worked. I was really hesitant about sharing it publicly, but I decided to throw caution to the wind and do so. This work hasn’t been beta’d, so all mistakes are my own. Still getting used to writing again, so that is also a handicap. Feedback is happy-making though, so please leave a word or two.
====
His body pressed above hers and the feel of his arousal against her thigh delighted her.
It felt good to finally be wanted - needed - and she smiled despite herself, her fingers dipping themselves into his brown hair as he kissed her.
She didn’t know how many lovers he’d had before her and in that moment she didn’t really care - he made her feel as if she was the center of the universe.
----
Martha remembered his eyes first -- blue and intense as they stared deeply into hers.
Her breath caught and then her mind reeled at how much he reminded her of the Doctor. Of course the hair was longer, his eyes were the wrong color, and his style of dress was very different than him, but there was so much in that flash -- when she was first face to face with him -- that reminded her of him nonetheless.
“Giacomo Casanova.”
She laughed lightly when he said his name, wondering at first if it was some joke or something. He couldn’t be the Casanova, she thought to herself.
His eyes darkened a bit in confusion as he regarded her over her hand, knuckles pressed against his lips in greeting. Martha covered her mouth with her other hand to stifle the giggles and then sought to play it off as a flirtatious sort of laughter to conceal her more judgmental thoughts.
“And you are, Signora?” he asked, lowering her hand and ever so slowly finally letting it go.
He looked at her with an eyebrow raised (so much like the Doctor, she thought again). He seemed to be trying to study her.
It made Martha uncomfortable -- she was not used to such scrutiny, especially after feeling so invisible for so long with the Doctor - but it also thrilled her a little bit.
“Martha Jones.”
“Of -- ?” He looked expectantly at her.
“Of London,” Martha responded, her tone almost a question. She worried for a moment about breaking some sort of protocol or saying the wrong thing, but mostly shrugged it off. She knew she would be leaving in a day or two if things were to go as planned.
“Ah, London. You are a long way from home. I have always wanted to travel to London. I do hope to someday. You must tell me about it.”
Martha didn’t respond, but instead she looked past him, over his shoulder, searching the square for the Doctor. They had only been in Venice an hour or so, but the Doctor had almost immediately wandered off after telling her to stay at the small party there in the square until he returned (which was supposed to be soon, but one never knew with him).
Martha had hoped briefly that the Doctor would have attended the party with her. She even thought -- for a wishful moment -- he might have wanted to. When they had arrived in Venice, he had given her a wide and bright smile when she had stepped into the console room wearing a decadently beautiful red dress from the period the TARDIS had chosen for her.
He’d even said that she looked wonderful and she could swear his eyes were glistening as he looked at her, but just as quickly, he returned to looking down as he played with some of the switches on the console and the moment was lost as his walls rose again.
Martha spotted the Doctor, a full smile suddenly filling her features despite herself, and watched him excitedly chatting with someone across the square. Giacomo followed her line of sight, spying the Doctor as well before looking back at her.
“Is that gentleman with you?”
Startled by his voice, Martha jumped and gasped a bit. She had been so caught up in looking for the Doctor that she had almost forgotten where she was. A blush rose on her cheeks as she contemplated her rudeness, especially to a man who was being so charming with her.
“Um, yes. Yes, he is,” she stammered.
“Is he your…patron?”
“No, no, nothing like that.”
“Is he your…lover?”
Martha’s blush grew deeper, especially as she looked at Giacomo, whose face held an almost mischievous expression.
“No,” she said, her voice now quiet with a shyness that starkly contrasted the confidence she’d shown throughout the rest of the conversation. “He’s nothing like that.”
“I see,” Giacomo replied, a knowing look in his eyes. He looked back across the square at the Doctor.
“Giacomo --”
“Giac. You may call me Giac,” he corrected.
“Giac, it has been lovely talking with you, but I should go.”
He frowned a little bit. “I’ll not keep you, Signora. Have a lovely evening, Martha Jones of London.” He bowed.
Martha smiled at him, curtsied, and then began to walk away.
“Oh, Martha Jones of London?” Giacomo called out to her once she was several feet away.
She found herself smiling at his name for her and turned back to face him. “Martha, you may call me Martha.”
He smiled, tilting his head to the side as his eyes roamed over her. He had an appreciative smirk on his face and a flirtatious glint in his eyes. “Does he know, Martha?”
Martha walked back toward him, confusion coloring her features. “Pardon?”
She was before him again, letting his blue eyes bore into hers. She had to admit, she was starting to like the way he looked at her. There had been so many times she wished the Doctor would look at her in such a way - as if she were the last great treasure on Earth (or anywhere in the universe for that matter, she needn’t be picky) - so she thought perhaps she could take some solace in a man who looked so much like him doing so instead.
“Does he know that you love him?”
Martha looked down for a moment and then back up at Giacomo, a sadness reaching her eyes despite her efforts to keep it in check. She then took in a deep breath and sighed.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Giac.”
It was all she could say in response, all that she could let herself say, before pulling up her dress slightly to quickly make her way across the square toward the Doctor.
----
His lips trailed down her body, each kiss was worshiping her like a work of art. Her body arched against his, trying to close that aching distance between them. His kisses made her toes curl and the wet heat between her legs pulse with desire for him.
She wondered if he was like that with every woman.
She wondered how he seemed to know exactly how to touch her and sense her every need.
----
“Martha!” the Doctor called out excitedly as she approached. “I was just speaking to that lovely gentleman over there, Signor Gozzi,” the Doctor paused, waving at the man Martha recognized as the one she had seen him talking with moments before, “and he informed me that tomorrow is the first day of the Carnevale di Venezia! Molte bene! What perfect timing! Well, I mean, I am a Time Lord, so I suppose that comes with the job, but sometimes, well, sometimes it doesn’t work out so well,” he paused again and tugged on his ear as he scrunched his face up.
Martha eyed him curiously and started to speak, but a big smile crossed his features again and he restarted his high-speed diatribe before she could get a word out, “Anyway, I haven’t been to a Carnavale in ages! Well, I mean, certainly not in this regeneration. Or the last three or four, really. Hmm, maybe even five? I lose track sometimes…Ah, well, never mind that…Oh, and I don’t even need to change out of my suit as Signor Gozzi -- and a few other of the fine people I have just met -- think that I am already in costume! Isn’t that great? Signor Gozzi even said he’d never seen anything like what I was wearing and thought I would be quite a hit! I mean, of course I would be a hit - have you ever seen me at parties? I even invented the banana daiquiri at one once.” The Doctor winked and then threw his head back in a robust laugh.
Martha smiled up at the Doctor as he excitedly bounced on the balls of his feet. “Sounds like fun.”
“Greetings, Signor,” Martha looked to her side and saw Giacomo had approached them. He was bowing toward the Doctor.
“Greetings, Signor,” the Doctor echoed, smiling and bowing in return.
The two men were eyeing one another curiously and Martha wondered if it was due to their uncanny resemblance (which seemed amplified now that they were next to one another, she had to admit) or something else.
“Giacomo Casanova,” Giacomo offered, introducing himself with a nod to the Doctor.
“Oh, no, no, no, no, no!” the Doctor said excitedly, his eyes widening in excitement and his mouth forming a perfect “O” in surprise. “Casanova? You mean, the Giacomo Casanova?”
“You know of me, Signor?” Casanova responded calmly. Martha noted that he looked surprising unaffected by the Doctor’s reaction to him.
“Martha, this is the Giacomo Casanova,” the Doctor said excitedly, still apparently reeling from the man’s reveal.
“Yes, I know, Doctor. We’ve met,” she said, amused.
----
The masks they wore at Carnavale had been discarded and perhaps their own personal, emotional masks had as well - at least that was true for Martha.
The cool veneer and tough armor Martha so often wore like a coat wrapped tightly around her was being slowly nudged off her by this man and his kisses.
His wonderful kisses.
His eyes held so many secrets when he looked at her, but she somehow knew that her own secrets were safe there too.
She trusted him. She wasn’t sure why she trusted him so completely, so quickly, but she did.
She lay naked before him, feeling more exposed than she had in her entire life, but he covered her again with his body like a blanket, and all her fears seems to dissolve.
----
“Hello again, Signora.” Martha almost felt more than heard him breathe near her ear from behind. The words caused a delicious shiver to run the length of her spine.
She turned to see the origin of the voice behind her, though she seemed to almost know immediately it was Giacomo. He was wearing a mask, of course, but his voice - like honey - and his piercing blue eyes - like the sea - also gave him away.
His mask was a beautiful deep blue with swirls of gold that seemed to draw out the color of his eyes and its nose - so very long -- was elongated in an erotically phallic way. She was pretty sure that the latter was intentional (knowing his reputation) and for a moment she was glad that she wore a mask herself - a mask of red and gold to match her red dress - as she hoped it would hide the blush that rose quickly on her cheeks at the sight of him.
Still, despite the lascivious thoughts trying to slip into Martha’s head, she also had to admit that he did look rather elegant as well. He was wearing a long blue silk coat, with a burnt orange waistcoat beneath, beautiful black boots that rose just below taut thighs, and tight dark blue trousers that looked so soft - so very soft - that Martha almost felt the urge to caress them (again, it had to be intentional). She stayed her hand, though.
Look, but don’t touch, she urged herself.
“How did you know it was me?” Martha asked him, trying to sound both coy and flirtatious, but worrying that she might be failing at both.
She could see his smile widen below the lower lip of his mask.
“That beautiful red dress caught my eye from a distance as I remembered you wearing it when we met yesterday,” he began.
Martha suddenly cursed herself for not trying to find another dress to wear that evening, wondering how she must look wearing the same dress two days in a row.
“And then, as I approached, there was your scent,” he continued, “I can’t place it, as it is something I have never encountered before, but it is unmistakably you. What is it, might I ask? Or is that simply how a goddess truly smells?”
She blushed again at his compliment and, for a fleeting moment, she wanted to actually be completely honest and tell him that it was a perfume she’d picked up in a market on Rykogen-8, galaxies away. That it was made from flowers she could barely pronounce, yet alone remember the name of.
She thought better of it.
“Just something I got at a market once.”
“Well,” he paused, inhaling deeply, “it is as beautiful as you are.”
Martha looked down, feeling suddenly cornered by his fixed gaze now on her, even though she was in the middle of a large room. “Would you,” Giacomo reached out and took her hand, pulling it up to his lips to brush a delicate kiss against her curled fingers, “dance with me?”
“Oh,” she gasped a little as he then lightly flicked his tongue against her knuckles before lowering it and letting it go. “I don’t really dance.”
It was only half-true. She knew some basics of ballroom dancing from some rubbish class she had taken as a teenager along with Tish (who had really only wanted to take the class because she had a crush on the instructor and had begged Martha to take it with her). From that, she could probably pull off the dancing that she saw around her if she set her mind to it.
At least in most circumstances, that is.
As she was, she was barely able to gracefully maneuver the side-hoop panniers of her dress (which stretched enough from her sides that she had to even walk sideways out of the TARDIS door, much to her chagrin) and was scarcely able to properly breathe with the bodice of the dress tight around her chest.
No, she didn’t want to embarrass herself by attempting to dance. Not like that.
“Of course, you do.” His tone was gentle, but firm. Giacomo didn’t seem to accept her rejection, seeming to sense it was more from a lack of confidence in matters than pure disinterest. Damn him for being so bloody perceptive, Martha thought, no wonder he bedded so many women.
“And why do you think that, Giac?” Martha asked, the bantering with him exciting her brain as well as her loins.
“I believe that you can do anything that you set your mind to. I can see it in your eyes,” he responded, tilting his head a bit to the side as he spoke, regarding her again with a sharp intensity. “Besides, I have been watching you and the way you walk around is already like a dance.”
----
His head was between her legs now -- lapping at the folds between and causing her to grip ever so tightly on to the bed sheets.
Her mind was swimming with pleasure, surprised at how good he was at this and how long it had actually been since a man had been in this position with her.
She didn’t want it to stop either, letting herself sink into the feeling as if nothing else mattered in the whole universe but the two of them.
She could feel her climax beginning to coil in the heat of her belly and she rode it like a wave as it tumbled through her again and again.
----
“So, you are all alone at the Carnavale tonight?” Giacomo asked as he spun Martha around in a dance.
He’d been quite patient as she became comfortable with the moves, gently tutoring her with his body pressed tantalizingly close to hers. She found it almost too distracting to learn with him so close, but Martha found the focus to do so nonetheless. She wasn’t going to let this Great Seducer of Women get the better of her - at least, not so easily.
“The Doctor is around somewhere. I haven’t seen him for some time.” Martha looked around, trying to see if she could spot where he was, but found herself unable to pick him out in the crowd of other revelers.
“I was a doctor once, in fact I was a doctor several times,” Giacomo said. “If I were one again, would you look at me the way you look at him?”
Martha ignored his question, feeling as if he was baiting her. “I am studying to be a doctor myself, actually.”
Giacomo was quiet after her response. Perhaps she had surprised him? Or perhaps he was just plotting out his next move in the game the two of them were playing with one another.
“I have been studying in London,” Martha added, his silence making her feel somewhat uncomfortable all of sudden.
“Under the tutelage of the Doctor, I presume?”
“No,” she waved him off. “From books.” It was all she could think to say.
“Ah, well, yes, you do seem to me to be well-read. At least that is what I gathered by the way you
speak and carry yourself. I am glad that I was not wrong in that assumption.”
Martha was almost shocked that Giacomo barely seemed surprised by her admission. There she was trying to formulate a good counter-argument in her mind for when he denied that she could be a doctor as a women but no such argument came. Then again, she thought she might have remembered reading somewhere once that he was quite equalitarian about women for his time and tended to treat them as equals. It was so much better than when she was in 1913, she noted.
“Martha Jones, having a good time I see?” the Doctor’s voice rose above the music from beside them, stopping their dance.
Martha stepped away quickly from Giacomo, feeling strangely guilty for a moment even though she rationally knew she had no need to feel such things.
“D-doctor,” she stammered, unable to get herself to say much else.
“Greetings again, Doctor,” Giacomo said. Martha could see he had his arms now folded across his chest and his gaze seemed to be sizing the Doctor up. It was much like, she thought, a wolf might look at its prey.
Martha could almost swear she could smell the testosterone radiating off the two men.
A part of her liked that.
“Signor Casanova, so good to see you again. I love the mask, by the way. Mine is rather similar,” the Doctor responded, pulling the mask he was holding at his side over his face.
Martha had to give a chuckle at the similarity. The mask was blue like Giacomo’s, but had swirls of red instead of gold. She presumed he was trying to match his own outfit - his blue suit with his burgundy shirt and burgundy trainers - and hadn’t done a half-bad job of it. The mask also had the same elongated nose, but it somehow looked more comical on the Doctor than it did on Giacomo. Perhaps it was just the wide, maniacal grin on the Doctor’s face as he modeled his mask that took away the eroticism.
----
He was face to face with her again, dropping light kisses across her face like little tiny gifts.
He pushed her legs apart with his knees, the weight of his body feeling so perfect against hers, and then pushed himself inside her.
He felt long and thick inside her and he rested a moment for her body to acclimate to his size.
For some reason it made her think of the mask he’d worn earlier, with its long nose, and she blushed at the thought.
----
“What are you talking about?” Martha whispered harshly at the Doctor.
Soon after the Doctor had interrupted her dance with Giacomo, he had excused the two of them to the far corner of the room. Martha didn’t like the almost possessive way he held onto her arm as he pulled her across the floor and was certainly annoyed at his condescending tone with her.
“All I am saying, Martha, is be careful. That is Casanova, there is no telling what he will do,” the Doctor replied, matching her harsh whisper.
There was something a bit dark in his eyes, something that she couldn’t put her finger on, but it made her flinch just a bit. The mask he wore, once comical, now seemed almost menacing.
“Wine?” A servant said as she approached, breaking the tension a bit. The Doctor waved her off, but Martha took a glass of wine from her and drank it in a quick shot.
The Doctor looked at Martha with surprise, but she didn’t care. She had hoped that it might help her calm the rising anger she was feeling, but instead it made her want to say the things running through her mind. “No telling what he will do? Doctor, are you afraid of him fucking me?” she spat at him.
“Martha, there is no need for such language,” the Doctor sighed, pulling off his mask and running a hand over his face before raking it through his hair. “And yes, if you must know, that is a concern of mine. I am here to protect you and I can’t very well do that if you go sleeping with a man who probably has more diseases than I can even dare contemplate.”
“How do you know that I was even going to sleep with him? Oh my God! I mean, yes, I have enjoyed the attention - as, by the way, its not like I have had such attention in a long time - but I am a big girl, Doctor. Besides, don’t you think I would be safe if I were with him? Don’t you think that as I am practically a doctor, and I mean real doctor here, I have not considered things like disease?” she responded, her teeth gritted and her tone punctuated with her annoyance.
The Doctor swallowed hard, looking at her. The darkness in his eyes softened. “I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he said, his voice sounding slightly broken and fragile.
“That’s rich coming from you,” Martha hissed at him, missing his change of tone in her fury. “Besides, I can damn well take care of myself.”
She pushed him to the side and quickly left the party.
----
He began to move slowly within her, with each thrust whispering to her that she was beautiful.
That she showed such strength.
That she was so intelligent.
And that she was beautiful again.
Whispering compliments to her like a mantra.
Again and again as he moved faster and faster against her.
----
Martha was digging angrily through her purse back in her room in the TARDIS, looking for where she’d kept a condom in the event she ever needed one. She gave a self-deprecating laugh at herself for even keeping one handy as she hadn’t been with a man in a long time. She was always one to be prepared, though. Besides, if you are going to have a tryst in another time, why not with the man deemed The World’s Greatest Lover?
“I can’t believe the nerve of him. He never even knows I exist, leaves me for hours at a time, and now he tries to control things when I finally find someone who actually pays attention to me,” she ranted out loud, speaking to no one in particular.
“There it is,” she exclaimed triumphantly, holding the foil wrapped plastic in the air almost like a trophy before pushing it into the small purse she had tied to the waist of her dress.
“I don’t know if I will be home tonight,” Martha said, now addressing the TARDIS. “I just can’t face him right now, you see? I just need to feel worth someone’s affection - at least for one night.”
Martha frantically wiped the tears that began streaming down her face, pulling out a handkerchief to cleanse her face before leaving the TARDIS to head back to the party to, hopefully, find Giacomo.
----
Martha wrapped her legs around him, pushing her hips up to meet every one of his thrusts.
She delighted in the sounds that came from him, feeling a bit happy that she could pull such sounds from someone with so much experience.
Experience didn’t seem to matter though.
It was just the two of them purely enjoying one another, enjoying each other’s bodies, and touching each other’s souls.
That was all that mattered in the end.
----
Martha stood outside the party in the square, trying to catch her breath for a moment. She was suddenly starting to feel overcome with nerves over the seduction she was planning in her head. What if Giacomo was just being friendly? What if he rejected her like…like the Doctor?
She also couldn’t believe she was so angry. She utterly hated losing control, but the Doctor truly infuriated her sometimes. He knew all the right buttons to push with her and she could never tell if it was intentional or if he was just a lost oblivious soul always stepping on her emotional landmines.
“Martha Jones of London,” she heard a voice from behind her. It was Giacomo.
She turned toward him, straightening up as proudly as she could (no use trying to seduce him as a weeping willow, she thought), and watched as he approached her from across the square.
“As I said, you may call me Martha,” she said as he came to stand before her.
He nodded and bowed before her. “Martha, I thought you had left us for the evening.”
“I just…I needed to get something,” she responded, tracing the features of his face with her eyes now that his mask had been discarded.
“And what did you need?” he asked, a slight smile crossing his features as he seemed to recognize her appraisal of him and knew his words had a double meaning.
Martha took in a deep breath. “This,” she said, exhaling as she grabbed Giacomo by back of the head and pressed her lips against his.
A moan rose from the back of his throat and he relaxed into her kiss, sliding his hands up to caress the nape of her neck. Martha moaned in response.
Martha felt her knees lightly weaken a bit as his tongue slipped past her lips and flicked languidly in her mouth.
He was certainly practiced at this, she noted.
Martha also felt his hand slip to the small of her back, pulling her tight against him. She could feel his arousal pressed hard against her and it excited her, causing her to kiss him even more deeply.
She soon broke away from the kiss, the two of them breathless with desire.
A flash of blue caught her attention in her peripheral vision and she glanced over to see the Doctor standing across the square, in the doorway of the party. He was holding his mask in his hand and, though he wasn’t very close, she could see the sad expression on his face.
Giacomo looked over at the Doctor as well, curious as to what had caught Martha’s attention. The two men seemed to hold eye contact for several moments before they both nodded to one another in a small bow and the Doctor walked off quickly, never looking back at Martha.
Martha panicked, feeling on one hand the urge to go after the Doctor and the other to stay with Giacomo. Despite the pangs of guilt flooding through her, she was still angry with the Doctor.
She resolved to stay with Giacomo.
“Kiss me again,” she said to him. Make me forget.
Giacomo smiled down at her, brushing the side of her face with the back of his fingers. He leaned down to kiss her, but it was only a quick kiss. Martha looked questioningly up at him.
“Martha Jones of London, you are with the wrong man tonight,” he said quietly, stroking her hair.
“What do you mean?” she asked, starting to feel somewhat frustrated.
“You are kissing me, but you want to be with someone else.” Martha started to speak in protest, but Giacomo pressed a finger to her lips to quiet her. “Now, I am certainly not one to resist being with a beautiful lady, whether she is already spoken for or not, but I can hardly be with someone who’s mind is on someone else. What would that do to my reputation?”
Martha laughed lightly at his attempt at humor, but soon sighed, unsure of what to do.
“But he doesn’t want me,” was all she could manage to say and even the tone of that was quiet and unsure.
“Oh, Martha,” Giacomo replied, placing a small kiss on her nose. “Trust me, if there is one thing I know, after everything I have experienced, it is when someone truly loves someone. I know you love him,” he added, gesturing in the direction the Doctor left in, “and I know he loves you.”
“But - “
Giacomo quieted her with a soft kiss on her lips.
“Go to him.”
----
Their bodies were writhing against each other, locked together in an ancient dance.
Martha could feel another orgasm building within her and he started to whisper, so close to her ear, his voice jagged as he seemed so near his own climax. He wanted her to call out his name when it hit.
She didn’t question why, she just did.
“Doctor.”
Author: radiantbaby
Characters/Pairings: Tennant!Casanova/Martha, 10/Martha
Word Count: 4962
Genre: Smutty romance
Rating: R for sexual situations [nothing too graphic]
Spoilers: Human Nature/Family of Blood [specifically this story takes place sometime between that 2-parter and Blink, I suppose]
Summary: Martha and the Doctor travel to 18th century Venice and meet the great Casanova.
Disclaimer: All your Doctor Who are belong to us Sadly, I own nothing related to Doctor Who et al, though I have Ten(nant) and the TARDIS currently on my wish list (didn’t get either for Christmas though - bugger!).
Author Notes: This story was inspired by the drabble prompt: “Martha meets Casanova - as played by David Tennant (by persiflage_1)”. It was a prompt during the 1000 Drabbles of Awesome over on lifeonmartha that recently ended. Obviously I have missed the deadline on that and, more importantly, I have certainly gone past the length of a drabble (I couldn’t help myself!), but here it is nonetheless. This story is a bit of an experiment in non-linear storytelling. I am not really sure that I am happy with it and it was a real challenge for me to write. The italicized bits will hopefully make more sense as the story unfolds. Or so I hope. I am not sure if it all worked. I was really hesitant about sharing it publicly, but I decided to throw caution to the wind and do so. This work hasn’t been beta’d, so all mistakes are my own. Still getting used to writing again, so that is also a handicap. Feedback is happy-making though, so please leave a word or two.
====
His body pressed above hers and the feel of his arousal against her thigh delighted her.
It felt good to finally be wanted - needed - and she smiled despite herself, her fingers dipping themselves into his brown hair as he kissed her.
She didn’t know how many lovers he’d had before her and in that moment she didn’t really care - he made her feel as if she was the center of the universe.
----
Martha remembered his eyes first -- blue and intense as they stared deeply into hers.
Her breath caught and then her mind reeled at how much he reminded her of the Doctor. Of course the hair was longer, his eyes were the wrong color, and his style of dress was very different than him, but there was so much in that flash -- when she was first face to face with him -- that reminded her of him nonetheless.
“Giacomo Casanova.”
She laughed lightly when he said his name, wondering at first if it was some joke or something. He couldn’t be the Casanova, she thought to herself.
His eyes darkened a bit in confusion as he regarded her over her hand, knuckles pressed against his lips in greeting. Martha covered her mouth with her other hand to stifle the giggles and then sought to play it off as a flirtatious sort of laughter to conceal her more judgmental thoughts.
“And you are, Signora?” he asked, lowering her hand and ever so slowly finally letting it go.
He looked at her with an eyebrow raised (so much like the Doctor, she thought again). He seemed to be trying to study her.
It made Martha uncomfortable -- she was not used to such scrutiny, especially after feeling so invisible for so long with the Doctor - but it also thrilled her a little bit.
“Martha Jones.”
“Of -- ?” He looked expectantly at her.
“Of London,” Martha responded, her tone almost a question. She worried for a moment about breaking some sort of protocol or saying the wrong thing, but mostly shrugged it off. She knew she would be leaving in a day or two if things were to go as planned.
“Ah, London. You are a long way from home. I have always wanted to travel to London. I do hope to someday. You must tell me about it.”
Martha didn’t respond, but instead she looked past him, over his shoulder, searching the square for the Doctor. They had only been in Venice an hour or so, but the Doctor had almost immediately wandered off after telling her to stay at the small party there in the square until he returned (which was supposed to be soon, but one never knew with him).
Martha had hoped briefly that the Doctor would have attended the party with her. She even thought -- for a wishful moment -- he might have wanted to. When they had arrived in Venice, he had given her a wide and bright smile when she had stepped into the console room wearing a decadently beautiful red dress from the period the TARDIS had chosen for her.
He’d even said that she looked wonderful and she could swear his eyes were glistening as he looked at her, but just as quickly, he returned to looking down as he played with some of the switches on the console and the moment was lost as his walls rose again.
Martha spotted the Doctor, a full smile suddenly filling her features despite herself, and watched him excitedly chatting with someone across the square. Giacomo followed her line of sight, spying the Doctor as well before looking back at her.
“Is that gentleman with you?”
Startled by his voice, Martha jumped and gasped a bit. She had been so caught up in looking for the Doctor that she had almost forgotten where she was. A blush rose on her cheeks as she contemplated her rudeness, especially to a man who was being so charming with her.
“Um, yes. Yes, he is,” she stammered.
“Is he your…patron?”
“No, no, nothing like that.”
“Is he your…lover?”
Martha’s blush grew deeper, especially as she looked at Giacomo, whose face held an almost mischievous expression.
“No,” she said, her voice now quiet with a shyness that starkly contrasted the confidence she’d shown throughout the rest of the conversation. “He’s nothing like that.”
“I see,” Giacomo replied, a knowing look in his eyes. He looked back across the square at the Doctor.
“Giacomo --”
“Giac. You may call me Giac,” he corrected.
“Giac, it has been lovely talking with you, but I should go.”
He frowned a little bit. “I’ll not keep you, Signora. Have a lovely evening, Martha Jones of London.” He bowed.
Martha smiled at him, curtsied, and then began to walk away.
“Oh, Martha Jones of London?” Giacomo called out to her once she was several feet away.
She found herself smiling at his name for her and turned back to face him. “Martha, you may call me Martha.”
He smiled, tilting his head to the side as his eyes roamed over her. He had an appreciative smirk on his face and a flirtatious glint in his eyes. “Does he know, Martha?”
Martha walked back toward him, confusion coloring her features. “Pardon?”
She was before him again, letting his blue eyes bore into hers. She had to admit, she was starting to like the way he looked at her. There had been so many times she wished the Doctor would look at her in such a way - as if she were the last great treasure on Earth (or anywhere in the universe for that matter, she needn’t be picky) - so she thought perhaps she could take some solace in a man who looked so much like him doing so instead.
“Does he know that you love him?”
Martha looked down for a moment and then back up at Giacomo, a sadness reaching her eyes despite her efforts to keep it in check. She then took in a deep breath and sighed.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Giac.”
It was all she could say in response, all that she could let herself say, before pulling up her dress slightly to quickly make her way across the square toward the Doctor.
----
His lips trailed down her body, each kiss was worshiping her like a work of art. Her body arched against his, trying to close that aching distance between them. His kisses made her toes curl and the wet heat between her legs pulse with desire for him.
She wondered if he was like that with every woman.
She wondered how he seemed to know exactly how to touch her and sense her every need.
----
“Martha!” the Doctor called out excitedly as she approached. “I was just speaking to that lovely gentleman over there, Signor Gozzi,” the Doctor paused, waving at the man Martha recognized as the one she had seen him talking with moments before, “and he informed me that tomorrow is the first day of the Carnevale di Venezia! Molte bene! What perfect timing! Well, I mean, I am a Time Lord, so I suppose that comes with the job, but sometimes, well, sometimes it doesn’t work out so well,” he paused again and tugged on his ear as he scrunched his face up.
Martha eyed him curiously and started to speak, but a big smile crossed his features again and he restarted his high-speed diatribe before she could get a word out, “Anyway, I haven’t been to a Carnavale in ages! Well, I mean, certainly not in this regeneration. Or the last three or four, really. Hmm, maybe even five? I lose track sometimes…Ah, well, never mind that…Oh, and I don’t even need to change out of my suit as Signor Gozzi -- and a few other of the fine people I have just met -- think that I am already in costume! Isn’t that great? Signor Gozzi even said he’d never seen anything like what I was wearing and thought I would be quite a hit! I mean, of course I would be a hit - have you ever seen me at parties? I even invented the banana daiquiri at one once.” The Doctor winked and then threw his head back in a robust laugh.
Martha smiled up at the Doctor as he excitedly bounced on the balls of his feet. “Sounds like fun.”
“Greetings, Signor,” Martha looked to her side and saw Giacomo had approached them. He was bowing toward the Doctor.
“Greetings, Signor,” the Doctor echoed, smiling and bowing in return.
The two men were eyeing one another curiously and Martha wondered if it was due to their uncanny resemblance (which seemed amplified now that they were next to one another, she had to admit) or something else.
“Giacomo Casanova,” Giacomo offered, introducing himself with a nod to the Doctor.
“Oh, no, no, no, no, no!” the Doctor said excitedly, his eyes widening in excitement and his mouth forming a perfect “O” in surprise. “Casanova? You mean, the Giacomo Casanova?”
“You know of me, Signor?” Casanova responded calmly. Martha noted that he looked surprising unaffected by the Doctor’s reaction to him.
“Martha, this is the Giacomo Casanova,” the Doctor said excitedly, still apparently reeling from the man’s reveal.
“Yes, I know, Doctor. We’ve met,” she said, amused.
----
The masks they wore at Carnavale had been discarded and perhaps their own personal, emotional masks had as well - at least that was true for Martha.
The cool veneer and tough armor Martha so often wore like a coat wrapped tightly around her was being slowly nudged off her by this man and his kisses.
His wonderful kisses.
His eyes held so many secrets when he looked at her, but she somehow knew that her own secrets were safe there too.
She trusted him. She wasn’t sure why she trusted him so completely, so quickly, but she did.
She lay naked before him, feeling more exposed than she had in her entire life, but he covered her again with his body like a blanket, and all her fears seems to dissolve.
----
“Hello again, Signora.” Martha almost felt more than heard him breathe near her ear from behind. The words caused a delicious shiver to run the length of her spine.
She turned to see the origin of the voice behind her, though she seemed to almost know immediately it was Giacomo. He was wearing a mask, of course, but his voice - like honey - and his piercing blue eyes - like the sea - also gave him away.
His mask was a beautiful deep blue with swirls of gold that seemed to draw out the color of his eyes and its nose - so very long -- was elongated in an erotically phallic way. She was pretty sure that the latter was intentional (knowing his reputation) and for a moment she was glad that she wore a mask herself - a mask of red and gold to match her red dress - as she hoped it would hide the blush that rose quickly on her cheeks at the sight of him.
Still, despite the lascivious thoughts trying to slip into Martha’s head, she also had to admit that he did look rather elegant as well. He was wearing a long blue silk coat, with a burnt orange waistcoat beneath, beautiful black boots that rose just below taut thighs, and tight dark blue trousers that looked so soft - so very soft - that Martha almost felt the urge to caress them (again, it had to be intentional). She stayed her hand, though.
Look, but don’t touch, she urged herself.
“How did you know it was me?” Martha asked him, trying to sound both coy and flirtatious, but worrying that she might be failing at both.
She could see his smile widen below the lower lip of his mask.
“That beautiful red dress caught my eye from a distance as I remembered you wearing it when we met yesterday,” he began.
Martha suddenly cursed herself for not trying to find another dress to wear that evening, wondering how she must look wearing the same dress two days in a row.
“And then, as I approached, there was your scent,” he continued, “I can’t place it, as it is something I have never encountered before, but it is unmistakably you. What is it, might I ask? Or is that simply how a goddess truly smells?”
She blushed again at his compliment and, for a fleeting moment, she wanted to actually be completely honest and tell him that it was a perfume she’d picked up in a market on Rykogen-8, galaxies away. That it was made from flowers she could barely pronounce, yet alone remember the name of.
She thought better of it.
“Just something I got at a market once.”
“Well,” he paused, inhaling deeply, “it is as beautiful as you are.”
Martha looked down, feeling suddenly cornered by his fixed gaze now on her, even though she was in the middle of a large room. “Would you,” Giacomo reached out and took her hand, pulling it up to his lips to brush a delicate kiss against her curled fingers, “dance with me?”
“Oh,” she gasped a little as he then lightly flicked his tongue against her knuckles before lowering it and letting it go. “I don’t really dance.”
It was only half-true. She knew some basics of ballroom dancing from some rubbish class she had taken as a teenager along with Tish (who had really only wanted to take the class because she had a crush on the instructor and had begged Martha to take it with her). From that, she could probably pull off the dancing that she saw around her if she set her mind to it.
At least in most circumstances, that is.
As she was, she was barely able to gracefully maneuver the side-hoop panniers of her dress (which stretched enough from her sides that she had to even walk sideways out of the TARDIS door, much to her chagrin) and was scarcely able to properly breathe with the bodice of the dress tight around her chest.
No, she didn’t want to embarrass herself by attempting to dance. Not like that.
“Of course, you do.” His tone was gentle, but firm. Giacomo didn’t seem to accept her rejection, seeming to sense it was more from a lack of confidence in matters than pure disinterest. Damn him for being so bloody perceptive, Martha thought, no wonder he bedded so many women.
“And why do you think that, Giac?” Martha asked, the bantering with him exciting her brain as well as her loins.
“I believe that you can do anything that you set your mind to. I can see it in your eyes,” he responded, tilting his head a bit to the side as he spoke, regarding her again with a sharp intensity. “Besides, I have been watching you and the way you walk around is already like a dance.”
----
His head was between her legs now -- lapping at the folds between and causing her to grip ever so tightly on to the bed sheets.
Her mind was swimming with pleasure, surprised at how good he was at this and how long it had actually been since a man had been in this position with her.
She didn’t want it to stop either, letting herself sink into the feeling as if nothing else mattered in the whole universe but the two of them.
She could feel her climax beginning to coil in the heat of her belly and she rode it like a wave as it tumbled through her again and again.
----
“So, you are all alone at the Carnavale tonight?” Giacomo asked as he spun Martha around in a dance.
He’d been quite patient as she became comfortable with the moves, gently tutoring her with his body pressed tantalizingly close to hers. She found it almost too distracting to learn with him so close, but Martha found the focus to do so nonetheless. She wasn’t going to let this Great Seducer of Women get the better of her - at least, not so easily.
“The Doctor is around somewhere. I haven’t seen him for some time.” Martha looked around, trying to see if she could spot where he was, but found herself unable to pick him out in the crowd of other revelers.
“I was a doctor once, in fact I was a doctor several times,” Giacomo said. “If I were one again, would you look at me the way you look at him?”
Martha ignored his question, feeling as if he was baiting her. “I am studying to be a doctor myself, actually.”
Giacomo was quiet after her response. Perhaps she had surprised him? Or perhaps he was just plotting out his next move in the game the two of them were playing with one another.
“I have been studying in London,” Martha added, his silence making her feel somewhat uncomfortable all of sudden.
“Under the tutelage of the Doctor, I presume?”
“No,” she waved him off. “From books.” It was all she could think to say.
“Ah, well, yes, you do seem to me to be well-read. At least that is what I gathered by the way you
speak and carry yourself. I am glad that I was not wrong in that assumption.”
Martha was almost shocked that Giacomo barely seemed surprised by her admission. There she was trying to formulate a good counter-argument in her mind for when he denied that she could be a doctor as a women but no such argument came. Then again, she thought she might have remembered reading somewhere once that he was quite equalitarian about women for his time and tended to treat them as equals. It was so much better than when she was in 1913, she noted.
“Martha Jones, having a good time I see?” the Doctor’s voice rose above the music from beside them, stopping their dance.
Martha stepped away quickly from Giacomo, feeling strangely guilty for a moment even though she rationally knew she had no need to feel such things.
“D-doctor,” she stammered, unable to get herself to say much else.
“Greetings again, Doctor,” Giacomo said. Martha could see he had his arms now folded across his chest and his gaze seemed to be sizing the Doctor up. It was much like, she thought, a wolf might look at its prey.
Martha could almost swear she could smell the testosterone radiating off the two men.
A part of her liked that.
“Signor Casanova, so good to see you again. I love the mask, by the way. Mine is rather similar,” the Doctor responded, pulling the mask he was holding at his side over his face.
Martha had to give a chuckle at the similarity. The mask was blue like Giacomo’s, but had swirls of red instead of gold. She presumed he was trying to match his own outfit - his blue suit with his burgundy shirt and burgundy trainers - and hadn’t done a half-bad job of it. The mask also had the same elongated nose, but it somehow looked more comical on the Doctor than it did on Giacomo. Perhaps it was just the wide, maniacal grin on the Doctor’s face as he modeled his mask that took away the eroticism.
----
He was face to face with her again, dropping light kisses across her face like little tiny gifts.
He pushed her legs apart with his knees, the weight of his body feeling so perfect against hers, and then pushed himself inside her.
He felt long and thick inside her and he rested a moment for her body to acclimate to his size.
For some reason it made her think of the mask he’d worn earlier, with its long nose, and she blushed at the thought.
----
“What are you talking about?” Martha whispered harshly at the Doctor.
Soon after the Doctor had interrupted her dance with Giacomo, he had excused the two of them to the far corner of the room. Martha didn’t like the almost possessive way he held onto her arm as he pulled her across the floor and was certainly annoyed at his condescending tone with her.
“All I am saying, Martha, is be careful. That is Casanova, there is no telling what he will do,” the Doctor replied, matching her harsh whisper.
There was something a bit dark in his eyes, something that she couldn’t put her finger on, but it made her flinch just a bit. The mask he wore, once comical, now seemed almost menacing.
“Wine?” A servant said as she approached, breaking the tension a bit. The Doctor waved her off, but Martha took a glass of wine from her and drank it in a quick shot.
The Doctor looked at Martha with surprise, but she didn’t care. She had hoped that it might help her calm the rising anger she was feeling, but instead it made her want to say the things running through her mind. “No telling what he will do? Doctor, are you afraid of him fucking me?” she spat at him.
“Martha, there is no need for such language,” the Doctor sighed, pulling off his mask and running a hand over his face before raking it through his hair. “And yes, if you must know, that is a concern of mine. I am here to protect you and I can’t very well do that if you go sleeping with a man who probably has more diseases than I can even dare contemplate.”
“How do you know that I was even going to sleep with him? Oh my God! I mean, yes, I have enjoyed the attention - as, by the way, its not like I have had such attention in a long time - but I am a big girl, Doctor. Besides, don’t you think I would be safe if I were with him? Don’t you think that as I am practically a doctor, and I mean real doctor here, I have not considered things like disease?” she responded, her teeth gritted and her tone punctuated with her annoyance.
The Doctor swallowed hard, looking at her. The darkness in his eyes softened. “I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he said, his voice sounding slightly broken and fragile.
“That’s rich coming from you,” Martha hissed at him, missing his change of tone in her fury. “Besides, I can damn well take care of myself.”
She pushed him to the side and quickly left the party.
----
He began to move slowly within her, with each thrust whispering to her that she was beautiful.
That she showed such strength.
That she was so intelligent.
And that she was beautiful again.
Whispering compliments to her like a mantra.
Again and again as he moved faster and faster against her.
----
Martha was digging angrily through her purse back in her room in the TARDIS, looking for where she’d kept a condom in the event she ever needed one. She gave a self-deprecating laugh at herself for even keeping one handy as she hadn’t been with a man in a long time. She was always one to be prepared, though. Besides, if you are going to have a tryst in another time, why not with the man deemed The World’s Greatest Lover?
“I can’t believe the nerve of him. He never even knows I exist, leaves me for hours at a time, and now he tries to control things when I finally find someone who actually pays attention to me,” she ranted out loud, speaking to no one in particular.
“There it is,” she exclaimed triumphantly, holding the foil wrapped plastic in the air almost like a trophy before pushing it into the small purse she had tied to the waist of her dress.
“I don’t know if I will be home tonight,” Martha said, now addressing the TARDIS. “I just can’t face him right now, you see? I just need to feel worth someone’s affection - at least for one night.”
Martha frantically wiped the tears that began streaming down her face, pulling out a handkerchief to cleanse her face before leaving the TARDIS to head back to the party to, hopefully, find Giacomo.
----
Martha wrapped her legs around him, pushing her hips up to meet every one of his thrusts.
She delighted in the sounds that came from him, feeling a bit happy that she could pull such sounds from someone with so much experience.
Experience didn’t seem to matter though.
It was just the two of them purely enjoying one another, enjoying each other’s bodies, and touching each other’s souls.
That was all that mattered in the end.
----
Martha stood outside the party in the square, trying to catch her breath for a moment. She was suddenly starting to feel overcome with nerves over the seduction she was planning in her head. What if Giacomo was just being friendly? What if he rejected her like…like the Doctor?
She also couldn’t believe she was so angry. She utterly hated losing control, but the Doctor truly infuriated her sometimes. He knew all the right buttons to push with her and she could never tell if it was intentional or if he was just a lost oblivious soul always stepping on her emotional landmines.
“Martha Jones of London,” she heard a voice from behind her. It was Giacomo.
She turned toward him, straightening up as proudly as she could (no use trying to seduce him as a weeping willow, she thought), and watched as he approached her from across the square.
“As I said, you may call me Martha,” she said as he came to stand before her.
He nodded and bowed before her. “Martha, I thought you had left us for the evening.”
“I just…I needed to get something,” she responded, tracing the features of his face with her eyes now that his mask had been discarded.
“And what did you need?” he asked, a slight smile crossing his features as he seemed to recognize her appraisal of him and knew his words had a double meaning.
Martha took in a deep breath. “This,” she said, exhaling as she grabbed Giacomo by back of the head and pressed her lips against his.
A moan rose from the back of his throat and he relaxed into her kiss, sliding his hands up to caress the nape of her neck. Martha moaned in response.
Martha felt her knees lightly weaken a bit as his tongue slipped past her lips and flicked languidly in her mouth.
He was certainly practiced at this, she noted.
Martha also felt his hand slip to the small of her back, pulling her tight against him. She could feel his arousal pressed hard against her and it excited her, causing her to kiss him even more deeply.
She soon broke away from the kiss, the two of them breathless with desire.
A flash of blue caught her attention in her peripheral vision and she glanced over to see the Doctor standing across the square, in the doorway of the party. He was holding his mask in his hand and, though he wasn’t very close, she could see the sad expression on his face.
Giacomo looked over at the Doctor as well, curious as to what had caught Martha’s attention. The two men seemed to hold eye contact for several moments before they both nodded to one another in a small bow and the Doctor walked off quickly, never looking back at Martha.
Martha panicked, feeling on one hand the urge to go after the Doctor and the other to stay with Giacomo. Despite the pangs of guilt flooding through her, she was still angry with the Doctor.
She resolved to stay with Giacomo.
“Kiss me again,” she said to him. Make me forget.
Giacomo smiled down at her, brushing the side of her face with the back of his fingers. He leaned down to kiss her, but it was only a quick kiss. Martha looked questioningly up at him.
“Martha Jones of London, you are with the wrong man tonight,” he said quietly, stroking her hair.
“What do you mean?” she asked, starting to feel somewhat frustrated.
“You are kissing me, but you want to be with someone else.” Martha started to speak in protest, but Giacomo pressed a finger to her lips to quiet her. “Now, I am certainly not one to resist being with a beautiful lady, whether she is already spoken for or not, but I can hardly be with someone who’s mind is on someone else. What would that do to my reputation?”
Martha laughed lightly at his attempt at humor, but soon sighed, unsure of what to do.
“But he doesn’t want me,” was all she could manage to say and even the tone of that was quiet and unsure.
“Oh, Martha,” Giacomo replied, placing a small kiss on her nose. “Trust me, if there is one thing I know, after everything I have experienced, it is when someone truly loves someone. I know you love him,” he added, gesturing in the direction the Doctor left in, “and I know he loves you.”
“But - “
Giacomo quieted her with a soft kiss on her lips.
“Go to him.”
----
Their bodies were writhing against each other, locked together in an ancient dance.
Martha could feel another orgasm building within her and he started to whisper, so close to her ear, his voice jagged as he seemed so near his own climax. He wanted her to call out his name when it hit.
She didn’t question why, she just did.
“Doctor.”