prompt response: just_fck_me 20.1
"Vibrators. I think they are great. They keep you out of stupid sex. I'd pitch them to anybody." - Anne Heche
When you don't really have a chance to pack for a journey across time and space, and you don't really know how long you'll be gone, then you end up without things that might eventually come in handy. Not a toothbrush - the Doctor, it seemed, had toothbrushes to spare, which probably explained why his smile was more dazzling than it had any right to be. Sometimes, there were intimate items that were hard to explain a need for to a nine hundred year-old alien. Especially when he was male.
They'd already gone through Martha trying to say that she needed tampons without using the word 'tampon' or why she needed them. When he'd realised that she was going through that time of the month, he quickly materialised in front of a druggist's and went to go hide in his room till she came back. She didn't even try to tell him that it was a perfectly natural biological process; for all she knew, Time Ladies didn't have anything as messy and inconvenient as periods.
...she'd taken advantage of the Doctor's disappearance to abscond with all the chocolate ice cream in the TARDIS freezer. The TARDIS, at least, after many years of travelling with human females, seemed to be sympathetic to their hormonal fluctuations. That was the only logical way to explain the boxes of tissues, DVDs of classic chick flicks (and, for some reason, The Rocky Horror Picture Show), and tins of Quality Street.
But even if the TARDIS was female, Martha didn't think she was, well, sexual (at least, not in a way that made sense to humans). Discussing how the way the Doctor touched the console made her go all funny inside sometimes probably would have been entirely too awkward for both of them. So Martha kept quiet and ignored the increasing urgency that sometimes crawled up her spine and made her scalp prickle whenever she was in close proximity to the Doctor.
And then they got stuck in 1969, in a cramped one-bedroom flat where it seemed like they were always bumping into each other. She positively ached with need then, being so close to him all the time, watching him act, well, almost human. Seeing him in something other than a suit was a bit like seeing him naked (as close as she was ever likely to get, anyway), his skinny arms bare, the fabric of his t-shirt just a thin barrier between them.
She thought about going out sometimes, getting pissed, and just shagging the first bloke that caught her eye. It wasn't a bad plan, as far as plans went, but Martha wasn't one for one-night stands. She wanted even casual sex to have a sense of intimacy that, as far as she was concerned, didn't really exist when shagging a complete stranger. (Not to mention that she would've had to explain her absence to the Doctor, and the flat was too small to contain that much awkwardness.)
They were both glad for the extra space when they returned to the TARDIS; even if a woman's arousal wasn't as physically evident as a man's, it had still become an almost palpable sense in the air, at least to Martha. The Doctor, of course, seemed oblivious to his companion's increasing desire to shag anything that moved. Now it was Martha's turn to retreat to her bedroom and rarely venture out, for risk of embarrassing herself (or, worse yet, pinning the Doctor up against the console and having her wicked way with him).
When the vibrator appeared on her bedside table, Martha eyed the ceiling suspiciously. "I really hope it isn't used," she told the TARDIS, not that she expected an answer in return. "'Cos, really, that's just gross, even if it's been sterilised." She refrained from commenting on the fact that the time machine was being about as subtle as a brick; given her suddenly increased propensity for eating fruit and licking her fingers, it would have made her look rather hypocritical.
"And you'd better not watch, either." She paused for a moment, thinking about all the things she'd been doing inside an apparently sentient time machine. To be fair, none of it was probably anything the TARDIS hadn't seen before, up to and including having a wank. It was just...unsettling for someone who didn't have an exhibitionist streak.
The vibrator, at least, seemed perfectly normal, with little knobbly bits and a standard sort of phallic shape. In fact, it wasn't too different to the one that Martha had in her drawer back home. Reassured by the familiarity, Martha picked it up, running her fingertips over it, and undid the zip of her jeans with the other hand.
--
Several minutes later, the Doctor paused in the calculations he was doing, tipping his head to one side and narrowing his eyes intently as if he was listening for something in the distance. His fingers tightened on his pencil as he flushed to the tips of his ears. "You really shouldn't encourage her," he chastised the TARDIS. "I know it was getting a bit uncomfortable for, well, everybody involved, but it's not fair for Martha, is it? Or for me, for that matter, and you're well aware of how I feel about these things."
The TARDIS remained stubbornly (and, the Doctor suspected, smugly) silent.
Muse: Martha Jones
Fandom: Doctor Who
Words: 889
When you don't really have a chance to pack for a journey across time and space, and you don't really know how long you'll be gone, then you end up without things that might eventually come in handy. Not a toothbrush - the Doctor, it seemed, had toothbrushes to spare, which probably explained why his smile was more dazzling than it had any right to be. Sometimes, there were intimate items that were hard to explain a need for to a nine hundred year-old alien. Especially when he was male.
They'd already gone through Martha trying to say that she needed tampons without using the word 'tampon' or why she needed them. When he'd realised that she was going through that time of the month, he quickly materialised in front of a druggist's and went to go hide in his room till she came back. She didn't even try to tell him that it was a perfectly natural biological process; for all she knew, Time Ladies didn't have anything as messy and inconvenient as periods.
...she'd taken advantage of the Doctor's disappearance to abscond with all the chocolate ice cream in the TARDIS freezer. The TARDIS, at least, after many years of travelling with human females, seemed to be sympathetic to their hormonal fluctuations. That was the only logical way to explain the boxes of tissues, DVDs of classic chick flicks (and, for some reason, The Rocky Horror Picture Show), and tins of Quality Street.
But even if the TARDIS was female, Martha didn't think she was, well, sexual (at least, not in a way that made sense to humans). Discussing how the way the Doctor touched the console made her go all funny inside sometimes probably would have been entirely too awkward for both of them. So Martha kept quiet and ignored the increasing urgency that sometimes crawled up her spine and made her scalp prickle whenever she was in close proximity to the Doctor.
And then they got stuck in 1969, in a cramped one-bedroom flat where it seemed like they were always bumping into each other. She positively ached with need then, being so close to him all the time, watching him act, well, almost human. Seeing him in something other than a suit was a bit like seeing him naked (as close as she was ever likely to get, anyway), his skinny arms bare, the fabric of his t-shirt just a thin barrier between them.
She thought about going out sometimes, getting pissed, and just shagging the first bloke that caught her eye. It wasn't a bad plan, as far as plans went, but Martha wasn't one for one-night stands. She wanted even casual sex to have a sense of intimacy that, as far as she was concerned, didn't really exist when shagging a complete stranger. (Not to mention that she would've had to explain her absence to the Doctor, and the flat was too small to contain that much awkwardness.)
They were both glad for the extra space when they returned to the TARDIS; even if a woman's arousal wasn't as physically evident as a man's, it had still become an almost palpable sense in the air, at least to Martha. The Doctor, of course, seemed oblivious to his companion's increasing desire to shag anything that moved. Now it was Martha's turn to retreat to her bedroom and rarely venture out, for risk of embarrassing herself (or, worse yet, pinning the Doctor up against the console and having her wicked way with him).
When the vibrator appeared on her bedside table, Martha eyed the ceiling suspiciously. "I really hope it isn't used," she told the TARDIS, not that she expected an answer in return. "'Cos, really, that's just gross, even if it's been sterilised." She refrained from commenting on the fact that the time machine was being about as subtle as a brick; given her suddenly increased propensity for eating fruit and licking her fingers, it would have made her look rather hypocritical.
"And you'd better not watch, either." She paused for a moment, thinking about all the things she'd been doing inside an apparently sentient time machine. To be fair, none of it was probably anything the TARDIS hadn't seen before, up to and including having a wank. It was just...unsettling for someone who didn't have an exhibitionist streak.
The vibrator, at least, seemed perfectly normal, with little knobbly bits and a standard sort of phallic shape. In fact, it wasn't too different to the one that Martha had in her drawer back home. Reassured by the familiarity, Martha picked it up, running her fingertips over it, and undid the zip of her jeans with the other hand.
--
Several minutes later, the Doctor paused in the calculations he was doing, tipping his head to one side and narrowing his eyes intently as if he was listening for something in the distance. His fingers tightened on his pencil as he flushed to the tips of his ears. "You really shouldn't encourage her," he chastised the TARDIS. "I know it was getting a bit uncomfortable for, well, everybody involved, but it's not fair for Martha, is it? Or for me, for that matter, and you're well aware of how I feel about these things."
The TARDIS remained stubbornly (and, the Doctor suspected, smugly) silent.
Muse: Martha Jones
Fandom: Doctor Who
Words: 889