Firestorm
Title: Firestorm
Author: Tess/mihane_echo
Rating: Rated M for smut
Word Count: 3021
Pairing: Ten/Donna
Spoilers: None
Summary: Donna knows the Doctor loves her. She just doesn't know whether he would ever tell her if he was feeling smothered by her.
Disclaimer: The canon stuff belongs to the Beeb and I'm borrowing it to play with. Everything else I made up for my entertainment.
Author's Note: This fic was originally for a challenge at yourpulseonmine waaay back in 2009 (the prompt was a picture of a match, just so's you know.) I was never satisfied with the ending and so this sat, incomplete but never forgotten, on my hard drive until now. Due to the nature of the yourpulseonmine community, it is, of course smut. Absolute undiluted unadulterated smutty sex. And due to my nature, it's hardcore shippy as well.
Happy Valentine's Day. <3
The match.
One precise strike.
The spark.
Flame swallows the head, burns down the length of it. The tail licks at the air, devours precious oxygen without which it cannot survive.
Donna watches the match burn nearly down to her finger, blowing it out only when she feels the painful tingle of its heat against her fingertip. As the last orange ember fades and dissolves into smoke, she contemplates the burnt match a moment longer.
The charred wood, once so strong and now weak and unstable, crumples and splinters into ash against her palm. Everything that it was, beautiful and strong, has been taken, changed by the fire's insatiable greed. Beautiful in its own right, but destructive as well.
Sometimes she wonders if she's too strong for him. Her strength has scared men away before. But then, she always satisfied herself by saying if they couldn't handle it, then they weren't worth the effort anyway. But she loves the Doctor, in so many ways and so deeply.
And that vulnerable little look in his eye as she moves over him, suckling his throat and his collarbone and down over his naked chest, worries her. Despite the time they've spent together, the few years at each other's sides and the countless nights in each others' arms, he's still tight-lipped about his feelings. It's just how he is and Donna accepts that; she knows that he loves her.
She just doesn't know whether he would ever tell her if he was feeling smothered by her.
His hands rest on her hair, his fingers lightly playing over the ginger curls, as she glides further down. In between delicate kisses to his exposed stomach, she unbuttons his trousers and slips her hands into the waistband to ease them down his thin hips. He's already half-hard, the front of his pants bulging and Donna can't help a surge of mischief; she dips close and nuzzles him through the soft fabric.
The Doctor moans in pleasure, and the sound breaks off when she tugs his pants down and takes him in her hands. Steadily, she strokes the straining flesh, coaxing him harder and harder. His breathing quickens, and the need in his voice when he groans her name is like throwing petrol on a flame.
She runs her thumb up the length and over the head, slicks her fingers with the liquid she finds there. The Doctor looks down at her, wild-eyed, as she draws her hand away and tastes it.
Then another finger is at it, the painted blue fingernail gently sliding up and down his length, almost contemplatively. For a moment he sees something in her eyes, something sad and distant, but it's gone and she smiles at him, leaning forward. He draws a breath in anticipation.
Donna ducks her head and swallows him whole.
The whole world surges with white-hot electricity and Donna can't help her intense pride at the lovely sounds of appreciation the Doctor is making. He writhes beneath her, gripping the duvet in his fists as she moves over him, rosebud lips tenderly massaging him, tongue stroking the length, curling around it.
Gently, so very gently, she rakes her teeth over his skin, so careful not to hurt him as she moves down his length. Her tongue, warm and wet, darts out to massage the base with soft pressure and then she slides back up, presses a kiss to the flushed end. She trails her fingers over his thighs, kneading the sensitive flesh with care as she moves closer and closer up between his legs.
She can tell that her languid pace is driving him absolutely mad. He's spitting curses in Gallifreyan under his breath, his voice high and desperate, words crumbling together and making no sense as she pushes him closer, and then just as quickly pulls away, denying him the moment.
But this is as much for her as it is for him. Being the one to decide how hard and how fast, deciding when he's finished, when he can come, sends a fire through her veins that warms every inch of her. Already, the heat building between her thighs is so painful. She wants him, wants to feel him in her, to feel herself tighten around him when he comes.
Climax is close, but not imminent, when Donna lifts herself up and wipes her mouth primly, like a smug ginger kitten licking cream off her whiskers. The Doctor swallows hard, his eyes shadowed with heady desire.
"Cheeky..." he mutters.
Her smile is a teasing one as she slides one creamy-white leg over him, then the other. Straddling his hips, all it takes is one brush against him for the Doctor to realize she's not got any knickers on underneath her black negligee, and he looks up at her, his jaw tight; his hands slide down over her hips to feel her underneath the silk.
She hangs over him to kiss his mouth, her hands on his face. He returns it hungrily, as though she's precious oxygen to a man choking and dying. His hands roam nomadically, gliding up from her hips over her back, across her shoulders where he pushes down the straps of her nightdress and then over her naked breasts, fingers sliding under them, thumbs rolling over her nipples. His palms are so fantastic in their roughness that Donna shivers.
"I want you," she breathes in his ear, sucking intermittently on the lobe. "Can you see that?"
"Yes," he gasps.
The next words fall out of her mouth before she can stop them. "Do you want me?"
She feels a moment of insecurity because she already knows how he will answer. He's so ready right now that he would say anything if she would just please stop the torment. As expected, he simply curses again, the Gallifreyan word being far more obscene than its soft lilt sounds, and kisses her. Ordinarily, it would make her laugh.
But this moment is different from the others. She can't laugh off this uncertainty, and she desperately wants an honest answer, an answer she can trust, an answer that isn't driven by heady arousal. She lifts her head to gaze into his eyes, knowing from the look on his face that she must look a fright. Donna licks her lips, her voice wobbling.
"You want this, right?" So soft. Hardly audible, her whisper.
The Doctor's eyes narrow, so much emotion playing on his face that she can't even discern one from the other. They melt into each other, desire and need and frustration and love, all for her. He takes her face firmly in his hands, his eyes dark but his thumbs brushing over her skin with so much care and affection that it breaks her heart.
"I always want you," he tells her huskily. It's absolute. No doubt, no uncertainty.
She opens her mouth to say something, she doesn't know what, but before she can he pulls himself up to meet her halfway and devours her mouth. She gasps at how forceful he is; it's unusual for him and it surprises her. Heat spreads like wildfire over her skin; she doesn't want to wait anymore, can't wait anymore.
Donna presses herself onto him, and the Doctor gasps into her mouth; his eyes lock onto hers, deep brown and intense. That one breath stretches between them, lasting minutes without measure as they each treasure those first few seconds, her tightness around him and the solidity of him inside her. Then she moves, slowly at first, her hands braced on his chest. She can feel his hearts racing underneath her palms.
He slides one hand down to her hips to guide her pace, faster and harder and deeper, until Donna is left breathless. They move together, caught in their blazing rhythm, and the only thing that matters is that swelling pressure in her belly, hot and deliciously painful, the towering inferno. Each movement is another push closer; Donna digs her nails into his chest and throws her head back, panting. So close.
The Doctor shifts just slightly beneath her, as Donna gives a delightful little grind of her hips; he groans hard. His hips buck and she tightens around him, whimpers of ecstasy edging on her gasps as the cool sweet rush floods through her, the precious zenith. She curls against him and he clings to her, holding her close until they taste every last moment together, every bead of sweat, every wispy breath, every last tremor of her squeezing around him.
He smells like mint. Crisp, and fresh.
She could stay like this forever, holding him, listening to him breathe, feeling safe and comfortable in his arms. She kisses his shoulder and then lifts her head, flipping back her hair to get it off her neck. The air feels brisk and lovely against her skin, damp with perspiration. As she leans in to kiss his cheek, the Doctor turns his head, catching her mouth instead, and his smile is enough to spur on a wave of giddiness. Donna laughs.
"That was scrummy," she moans, and he grins at her, reaching up to pet her hair with one floppy arm.
"It was," he agrees. "Delectable. A perfect ambrosia. Exquisite to the last."
He glances mirthfully at her out of the corner of his eye, looking a bit impish at her abrupt change of expression; she stares deadpan at him, eyebrows furrowed in indignation.
"Scrummy, Spaceman," she says. "Why do you always have to overstate it? Just leave it simple."
The Doctor chuckles then, a deep, throaty laugh. "I could get used to that nickname. Scrummy Spaceman."
"Oi, don't get cheeky--" She yelps as he twists and rolls onto her, holding her down on their bed. His arm is still wrapped around the back of her head, his hand cradling her shoulder, his face very close to hers. His eyes are dark again, the darkness from ages before, when she hesitated.
"I want you," he says in a stern tone, "to stop thinking badly of yourself."
Donna's cheeks colour and she bites her lip. "I know." His expression doesn't change and Donna nods vehemently. "I know, I do. It's just that it's a hard habit to break, thinking that no matter what someone says, you are the reason that people are disappointed, or..." Her voice cracks. "Or the reason they leave."
His eyes soften in understanding and he frowns dejectedly. Donna reaches up to hold his face, one hand going through his hair, the other enjoying the feel of his stubbled cheek under her palm. It's absurd how handsome he is for a skinny, freckled, pale alien.
But then, he is her skinny, freckled, pale alien.
"I love you so much," she tells him quietly. It's taken her forever to be able to say those words, and even now they mean so much more than that. I need you. I want to stay with you forever. I don't want to push you away. I don't want you to leave me.
She shakes her head slowly; perish the thought. "I just don't want to lose you again."
His nostrils are flaring, his eyes wide and his jaw tight as he considers her and Donna feels badly because she's seen this look before. Almost as long as she's known him, it's a look that is specifically for her (and one that's entirely different from his other look that is specifically for her, the needy lust that darkens his eyes and hardens his body and makes her toes curl.)
This expression on his face now is one of incredulity and almost desperate frustration. He chews his tongue for a long time, trying to find words, but Donna doesn't expect him to say anything. He never does. Usually when she sees the look, it's followed by a disheartened shake of his head, and then he kisses her and moves on with life.
Donna rests her head against his arm, giving the limb a brief pat with her hand in wordless suggestion to give up the look and just relax with her, enjoy their time together. But the Doctor sits rigid, unmoving. She lifts her eyes again to his, surprised to see the look is softer, his mouth a tight line.
"You said it before," he begins. "That I talk all the time and never say anything. It's true. I just... I always assumed that I didn't need to say it. That my actions would explain my feelings better than I could ever say them with words. But I was wrong."
The Doctor's eyebrows furrow and he swallows thickly. "I should've said this to you a long time ago."
Donna watches him in trepidation, pink lips parted slightly and eyes wide in anticipation as he reaches up, taking both her hands in his; he kisses the knuckles, first her left hand and then her right. Then he pushes her hair away from her face, twines his fingers through the silky strands, arranging them meticulously on the pillow.
For a long time, he just gazes at her adoringly, memorising the curves of her forehead and cheeks, the soft pout of her mouth, the perfect concoction of blue and gray in her eyes.
"You are so beautiful," he says softly. "Even when you don't think you are. The way your hair looks when you first get up in the morning, the way your eyes burn when you're angry with me, the way your cheeks flush when we make love..." She blushes then and he grins at her.
"And you're absolutely brilliant. You're always working things out, working people out. If something doesn't sit right, you notice and you won't leave it until it's settled. Even in me..." His smile turns wistful. "You never let me bottle things up."
The hand drifts down from her hair and then rests over her heart, and he follows it with his eyes before looking at her once more. "And your heart... There's room for everyone in the universe in there. You find love to share so easily. You have so much compassion, and tenderness, and kindness. Every time you kiss me, I wonder what I did to deserve you."
"Doctor..."
Her eyes are shining with tears and the Time Lord shakes his head, brushing them away with the back of his index finger. "Let me finish. I don't know why you love me, Donna, but I'm glad that you do. And I don't want you to have to wonder why I love you ever again." His voice drops sharply, soft and achingly sad. "So let me finish."
Donna bites her lip, trying to stop the violent quivering, and nods. He grins at her and then dips his head to kiss the knuckles of her hand again, gazing at her intently. "I know you get scared. I do too. I don't want to lose you again either. And you know that I would do everything I could to make sure it never happened again. I would never let anything happen to you if I could stop it."
He hesitates, his thought hanging in the air almost like a question, and Donna nods. Satisfied, he smiles confidently at her.
"But if there is one thing you never, ever have to be afraid of, it's scaring me away. I love that you're strong, and independent. I love that you argue with me, and cry with me, and laugh with me. You make me a better man." He cups her cheek, thumbing away the one tear that's managed to escape.
"Just having you here, seeing you, makes me happy. You are my sun, Donna Noble, and I love you so completely."
Her breath hitches with a joyous laugh and Donna throws her arms around his neck, hugging him close as the tears finally slip out. He kisses her neck gently, his arms strong and secure around her. He might've known she'd cry, much as he doesn't want her to, but he figures if it's coupled with the soft contented sighs in his ear, it must not be sad crying.
Donna melts against him and the Doctor feels himself relax as well, the tension draining away and leaving him feeling a bit knackered. He slides down onto the bed next to her and holds her close. Her arms still hang loosely around him, and he smiles at her as he palms away the thin tear tracks on her face. "All right?"
She nods, a broad grin warming her face as well. Then she purses her lips, pulling away from him and sitting up. "Although..."
She drags out the syllables, pink tongue darting out to moisten her lips as she eyes him hungrily. A lioness and her prey, choosing her moment to pounce. The Doctor laughs, eyebrows raised. "You can't possibly want to go for another--"
She turns it off just like that. "Typical man," she tuts, smacking him lightly. "All you ever think about is sex!"
He puts on an air of ersatz disappointment as Donna pulls her negligee back up over her breasts, but when she slides off the bed, the Doctor's frown turns into a real pout. "Where are you going?"
"I'm starving," she replies, donning her dressing gown. She turns to him and sweeps her hair out of the collar, eyes glittering eagerly. "I've got chocolate-covered bananas in the fridge."
The Doctor purses his lips thoughtfully and goes to his feet, pulling up his trousers as he does. "Hmm. A fruit that increases libido dipped in an aphrodisiac." He raises one eyebrow. "And you say sex is all I think about?"
Donna laughs. "It crosses my mind from time to time. Besides," she reaches out a hand and he takes it, lets her pull him to her. She slips her arms around his neck, breathes in the smell of him, savours the feel of him next to her.
"I don't want for much. I've already got the whole of time and space and a man who loves me, why would I want anything else?"
He gives her a bemused smile. "Can't think of a reason."
end
Author: Tess/mihane_echo
Rating: Rated M for smut
Word Count: 3021
Pairing: Ten/Donna
Spoilers: None
Summary: Donna knows the Doctor loves her. She just doesn't know whether he would ever tell her if he was feeling smothered by her.
Disclaimer: The canon stuff belongs to the Beeb and I'm borrowing it to play with. Everything else I made up for my entertainment.
Author's Note: This fic was originally for a challenge at yourpulseonmine waaay back in 2009 (the prompt was a picture of a match, just so's you know.) I was never satisfied with the ending and so this sat, incomplete but never forgotten, on my hard drive until now. Due to the nature of the yourpulseonmine community, it is, of course smut. Absolute undiluted unadulterated smutty sex. And due to my nature, it's hardcore shippy as well.
Happy Valentine's Day. <3
The match.
One precise strike.
The spark.
Flame swallows the head, burns down the length of it. The tail licks at the air, devours precious oxygen without which it cannot survive.
Donna watches the match burn nearly down to her finger, blowing it out only when she feels the painful tingle of its heat against her fingertip. As the last orange ember fades and dissolves into smoke, she contemplates the burnt match a moment longer.
The charred wood, once so strong and now weak and unstable, crumples and splinters into ash against her palm. Everything that it was, beautiful and strong, has been taken, changed by the fire's insatiable greed. Beautiful in its own right, but destructive as well.
Sometimes she wonders if she's too strong for him. Her strength has scared men away before. But then, she always satisfied herself by saying if they couldn't handle it, then they weren't worth the effort anyway. But she loves the Doctor, in so many ways and so deeply.
And that vulnerable little look in his eye as she moves over him, suckling his throat and his collarbone and down over his naked chest, worries her. Despite the time they've spent together, the few years at each other's sides and the countless nights in each others' arms, he's still tight-lipped about his feelings. It's just how he is and Donna accepts that; she knows that he loves her.
She just doesn't know whether he would ever tell her if he was feeling smothered by her.
His hands rest on her hair, his fingers lightly playing over the ginger curls, as she glides further down. In between delicate kisses to his exposed stomach, she unbuttons his trousers and slips her hands into the waistband to ease them down his thin hips. He's already half-hard, the front of his pants bulging and Donna can't help a surge of mischief; she dips close and nuzzles him through the soft fabric.
The Doctor moans in pleasure, and the sound breaks off when she tugs his pants down and takes him in her hands. Steadily, she strokes the straining flesh, coaxing him harder and harder. His breathing quickens, and the need in his voice when he groans her name is like throwing petrol on a flame.
She runs her thumb up the length and over the head, slicks her fingers with the liquid she finds there. The Doctor looks down at her, wild-eyed, as she draws her hand away and tastes it.
Then another finger is at it, the painted blue fingernail gently sliding up and down his length, almost contemplatively. For a moment he sees something in her eyes, something sad and distant, but it's gone and she smiles at him, leaning forward. He draws a breath in anticipation.
Donna ducks her head and swallows him whole.
The whole world surges with white-hot electricity and Donna can't help her intense pride at the lovely sounds of appreciation the Doctor is making. He writhes beneath her, gripping the duvet in his fists as she moves over him, rosebud lips tenderly massaging him, tongue stroking the length, curling around it.
Gently, so very gently, she rakes her teeth over his skin, so careful not to hurt him as she moves down his length. Her tongue, warm and wet, darts out to massage the base with soft pressure and then she slides back up, presses a kiss to the flushed end. She trails her fingers over his thighs, kneading the sensitive flesh with care as she moves closer and closer up between his legs.
She can tell that her languid pace is driving him absolutely mad. He's spitting curses in Gallifreyan under his breath, his voice high and desperate, words crumbling together and making no sense as she pushes him closer, and then just as quickly pulls away, denying him the moment.
But this is as much for her as it is for him. Being the one to decide how hard and how fast, deciding when he's finished, when he can come, sends a fire through her veins that warms every inch of her. Already, the heat building between her thighs is so painful. She wants him, wants to feel him in her, to feel herself tighten around him when he comes.
Climax is close, but not imminent, when Donna lifts herself up and wipes her mouth primly, like a smug ginger kitten licking cream off her whiskers. The Doctor swallows hard, his eyes shadowed with heady desire.
"Cheeky..." he mutters.
Her smile is a teasing one as she slides one creamy-white leg over him, then the other. Straddling his hips, all it takes is one brush against him for the Doctor to realize she's not got any knickers on underneath her black negligee, and he looks up at her, his jaw tight; his hands slide down over her hips to feel her underneath the silk.
She hangs over him to kiss his mouth, her hands on his face. He returns it hungrily, as though she's precious oxygen to a man choking and dying. His hands roam nomadically, gliding up from her hips over her back, across her shoulders where he pushes down the straps of her nightdress and then over her naked breasts, fingers sliding under them, thumbs rolling over her nipples. His palms are so fantastic in their roughness that Donna shivers.
"I want you," she breathes in his ear, sucking intermittently on the lobe. "Can you see that?"
"Yes," he gasps.
The next words fall out of her mouth before she can stop them. "Do you want me?"
She feels a moment of insecurity because she already knows how he will answer. He's so ready right now that he would say anything if she would just please stop the torment. As expected, he simply curses again, the Gallifreyan word being far more obscene than its soft lilt sounds, and kisses her. Ordinarily, it would make her laugh.
But this moment is different from the others. She can't laugh off this uncertainty, and she desperately wants an honest answer, an answer she can trust, an answer that isn't driven by heady arousal. She lifts her head to gaze into his eyes, knowing from the look on his face that she must look a fright. Donna licks her lips, her voice wobbling.
"You want this, right?" So soft. Hardly audible, her whisper.
The Doctor's eyes narrow, so much emotion playing on his face that she can't even discern one from the other. They melt into each other, desire and need and frustration and love, all for her. He takes her face firmly in his hands, his eyes dark but his thumbs brushing over her skin with so much care and affection that it breaks her heart.
"I always want you," he tells her huskily. It's absolute. No doubt, no uncertainty.
She opens her mouth to say something, she doesn't know what, but before she can he pulls himself up to meet her halfway and devours her mouth. She gasps at how forceful he is; it's unusual for him and it surprises her. Heat spreads like wildfire over her skin; she doesn't want to wait anymore, can't wait anymore.
Donna presses herself onto him, and the Doctor gasps into her mouth; his eyes lock onto hers, deep brown and intense. That one breath stretches between them, lasting minutes without measure as they each treasure those first few seconds, her tightness around him and the solidity of him inside her. Then she moves, slowly at first, her hands braced on his chest. She can feel his hearts racing underneath her palms.
He slides one hand down to her hips to guide her pace, faster and harder and deeper, until Donna is left breathless. They move together, caught in their blazing rhythm, and the only thing that matters is that swelling pressure in her belly, hot and deliciously painful, the towering inferno. Each movement is another push closer; Donna digs her nails into his chest and throws her head back, panting. So close.
The Doctor shifts just slightly beneath her, as Donna gives a delightful little grind of her hips; he groans hard. His hips buck and she tightens around him, whimpers of ecstasy edging on her gasps as the cool sweet rush floods through her, the precious zenith. She curls against him and he clings to her, holding her close until they taste every last moment together, every bead of sweat, every wispy breath, every last tremor of her squeezing around him.
He smells like mint. Crisp, and fresh.
She could stay like this forever, holding him, listening to him breathe, feeling safe and comfortable in his arms. She kisses his shoulder and then lifts her head, flipping back her hair to get it off her neck. The air feels brisk and lovely against her skin, damp with perspiration. As she leans in to kiss his cheek, the Doctor turns his head, catching her mouth instead, and his smile is enough to spur on a wave of giddiness. Donna laughs.
"That was scrummy," she moans, and he grins at her, reaching up to pet her hair with one floppy arm.
"It was," he agrees. "Delectable. A perfect ambrosia. Exquisite to the last."
He glances mirthfully at her out of the corner of his eye, looking a bit impish at her abrupt change of expression; she stares deadpan at him, eyebrows furrowed in indignation.
"Scrummy, Spaceman," she says. "Why do you always have to overstate it? Just leave it simple."
The Doctor chuckles then, a deep, throaty laugh. "I could get used to that nickname. Scrummy Spaceman."
"Oi, don't get cheeky--" She yelps as he twists and rolls onto her, holding her down on their bed. His arm is still wrapped around the back of her head, his hand cradling her shoulder, his face very close to hers. His eyes are dark again, the darkness from ages before, when she hesitated.
"I want you," he says in a stern tone, "to stop thinking badly of yourself."
Donna's cheeks colour and she bites her lip. "I know." His expression doesn't change and Donna nods vehemently. "I know, I do. It's just that it's a hard habit to break, thinking that no matter what someone says, you are the reason that people are disappointed, or..." Her voice cracks. "Or the reason they leave."
His eyes soften in understanding and he frowns dejectedly. Donna reaches up to hold his face, one hand going through his hair, the other enjoying the feel of his stubbled cheek under her palm. It's absurd how handsome he is for a skinny, freckled, pale alien.
But then, he is her skinny, freckled, pale alien.
"I love you so much," she tells him quietly. It's taken her forever to be able to say those words, and even now they mean so much more than that. I need you. I want to stay with you forever. I don't want to push you away. I don't want you to leave me.
She shakes her head slowly; perish the thought. "I just don't want to lose you again."
His nostrils are flaring, his eyes wide and his jaw tight as he considers her and Donna feels badly because she's seen this look before. Almost as long as she's known him, it's a look that is specifically for her (and one that's entirely different from his other look that is specifically for her, the needy lust that darkens his eyes and hardens his body and makes her toes curl.)
This expression on his face now is one of incredulity and almost desperate frustration. He chews his tongue for a long time, trying to find words, but Donna doesn't expect him to say anything. He never does. Usually when she sees the look, it's followed by a disheartened shake of his head, and then he kisses her and moves on with life.
Donna rests her head against his arm, giving the limb a brief pat with her hand in wordless suggestion to give up the look and just relax with her, enjoy their time together. But the Doctor sits rigid, unmoving. She lifts her eyes again to his, surprised to see the look is softer, his mouth a tight line.
"You said it before," he begins. "That I talk all the time and never say anything. It's true. I just... I always assumed that I didn't need to say it. That my actions would explain my feelings better than I could ever say them with words. But I was wrong."
The Doctor's eyebrows furrow and he swallows thickly. "I should've said this to you a long time ago."
Donna watches him in trepidation, pink lips parted slightly and eyes wide in anticipation as he reaches up, taking both her hands in his; he kisses the knuckles, first her left hand and then her right. Then he pushes her hair away from her face, twines his fingers through the silky strands, arranging them meticulously on the pillow.
For a long time, he just gazes at her adoringly, memorising the curves of her forehead and cheeks, the soft pout of her mouth, the perfect concoction of blue and gray in her eyes.
"You are so beautiful," he says softly. "Even when you don't think you are. The way your hair looks when you first get up in the morning, the way your eyes burn when you're angry with me, the way your cheeks flush when we make love..." She blushes then and he grins at her.
"And you're absolutely brilliant. You're always working things out, working people out. If something doesn't sit right, you notice and you won't leave it until it's settled. Even in me..." His smile turns wistful. "You never let me bottle things up."
The hand drifts down from her hair and then rests over her heart, and he follows it with his eyes before looking at her once more. "And your heart... There's room for everyone in the universe in there. You find love to share so easily. You have so much compassion, and tenderness, and kindness. Every time you kiss me, I wonder what I did to deserve you."
"Doctor..."
Her eyes are shining with tears and the Time Lord shakes his head, brushing them away with the back of his index finger. "Let me finish. I don't know why you love me, Donna, but I'm glad that you do. And I don't want you to have to wonder why I love you ever again." His voice drops sharply, soft and achingly sad. "So let me finish."
Donna bites her lip, trying to stop the violent quivering, and nods. He grins at her and then dips his head to kiss the knuckles of her hand again, gazing at her intently. "I know you get scared. I do too. I don't want to lose you again either. And you know that I would do everything I could to make sure it never happened again. I would never let anything happen to you if I could stop it."
He hesitates, his thought hanging in the air almost like a question, and Donna nods. Satisfied, he smiles confidently at her.
"But if there is one thing you never, ever have to be afraid of, it's scaring me away. I love that you're strong, and independent. I love that you argue with me, and cry with me, and laugh with me. You make me a better man." He cups her cheek, thumbing away the one tear that's managed to escape.
"Just having you here, seeing you, makes me happy. You are my sun, Donna Noble, and I love you so completely."
Her breath hitches with a joyous laugh and Donna throws her arms around his neck, hugging him close as the tears finally slip out. He kisses her neck gently, his arms strong and secure around her. He might've known she'd cry, much as he doesn't want her to, but he figures if it's coupled with the soft contented sighs in his ear, it must not be sad crying.
Donna melts against him and the Doctor feels himself relax as well, the tension draining away and leaving him feeling a bit knackered. He slides down onto the bed next to her and holds her close. Her arms still hang loosely around him, and he smiles at her as he palms away the thin tear tracks on her face. "All right?"
She nods, a broad grin warming her face as well. Then she purses her lips, pulling away from him and sitting up. "Although..."
She drags out the syllables, pink tongue darting out to moisten her lips as she eyes him hungrily. A lioness and her prey, choosing her moment to pounce. The Doctor laughs, eyebrows raised. "You can't possibly want to go for another--"
She turns it off just like that. "Typical man," she tuts, smacking him lightly. "All you ever think about is sex!"
He puts on an air of ersatz disappointment as Donna pulls her negligee back up over her breasts, but when she slides off the bed, the Doctor's frown turns into a real pout. "Where are you going?"
"I'm starving," she replies, donning her dressing gown. She turns to him and sweeps her hair out of the collar, eyes glittering eagerly. "I've got chocolate-covered bananas in the fridge."
The Doctor purses his lips thoughtfully and goes to his feet, pulling up his trousers as he does. "Hmm. A fruit that increases libido dipped in an aphrodisiac." He raises one eyebrow. "And you say sex is all I think about?"
Donna laughs. "It crosses my mind from time to time. Besides," she reaches out a hand and he takes it, lets her pull him to her. She slips her arms around his neck, breathes in the smell of him, savours the feel of him next to her.
"I don't want for much. I've already got the whole of time and space and a man who loves me, why would I want anything else?"
He gives her a bemused smile. "Can't think of a reason."
end