Apparently, The Day The Earth Stood Still has been remade and will hit theaters in December. I’m not often fond of remakes, since I’ve found the majority of them to be inferior to the originals that they are based on. I might give this one the benefit of the doubt, even though it stars Keanu Reeves (sorry, but I’m not that fond of his acting abilities). The trailer makes the movie look a little promising, but then trailers often do:

View it

Admittedly, I am a sucker for a vampire story, well a good one, anyway, and True Blood seems like it’s going to deliver. The new HBO series is an adaptation of a series of books called the Southern Vampire Mysteries by Charlaine Harris. It focuses on a Louisiana town after vampires have come out in the open due to the creation of a synthetic blood product (Tru Blood) that meets their needs. A world where vampires have become part of everyday life and the response of humans to that is an interesting one to me, so I’m getting taken in by this series. It also helps that it has heaping doses of both horror and sexiness, I suppose.

I was able to obtain the series of novels in ebook format to my delight. I’m making my way through the first of them. I like it. It’s been awhile since I’ve read any vampire books, to be honest. So many of them seem to be copies of better works, so I sort of lost interest in them over time. Harris seems to be tackling the concept of a world with vampires in a bit of a different way, so I’m enjoying the book so far.

According to ye olde Wikipedia, True Blood is going to be a season of 12 episodes. I’m hoping that it goes on a bit longer than that since there hasn’t been a good vampire series on TV for a long while. And who can’t love a show where the opening theme is its own bit of sexiness, eh?

‘Bad Things’ by Jace Everett

Title: Making Concessions
Fandom: Life on Mars
Characters: Sam Tyler & Gene Hunt
Prompt: 005 – Down
Word Count: 2,132
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Gene surprises himself by agreeing to fulfill one of Sam’s fantasies.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Life on Mars, Sam, & Gene don’t belong to me. I’m just playing with them for a bit.

It was far too warm in the car as Hunt and Tyler sat staking out a building for signs of the suspect in a string of robberies. The almost nonexistent breeze that managed to waft in through the rolled down windows wasn’t helping to cool down the car, which in turn did nothing to help Gene’s mood. He was almost willing to admit that his imagination might be a factor in it, but Gene Hunt was fairly certain that his DI was upset at his attempts in turning him into a complete poofter ending in failure. Sam’s request the previous night had been met with an emphatic ‘no’ from Gene in rather colorful terms, and the result was Sam seeming distant the following morning at work, or at least to Gene’s eyes. Hunt rubbed absently at his chin as he eyed the building a distance away. Sam should have known better than to ask him if he’d be fine with Sam putting his tackle anywhere near his mouth.

“No point in you sulking,” Gene said in an exasperated tone, his mulled over thoughts as well as the heat getting to him finally.

Sam turned his head to look at the other man, frowning. “What are you talking about?”

Gene rolled his eyes before turning to look in his DI’s direction. “You know bloody well what I’m talking about. All morning you’ve been giving me those looks that you do when you don’t get what you want. Consider me unaffected.” Gene huffed, turning back to gaze at the building.

Hunt listened to Sam sigh, catching him tilting his head back on the seat out of the corner of his eye. “I told you that you didn’t have to do it if you didn’t want to. I was just asking, is all.”

“If you didn’t want it, you wouldn’t have asked,” Gene insisted. “Now you figure you’ll just play the put upon girl and guilt me into doing it.” Gene turned to Sam again with a stern look. “Well, it’s not going to work.” He shifted against the seat, turning to look out the window.

Tyler watched his DCI lean an elbow against the door, resting his cheek on his upturned hand in annoyance. He resisted the urge to sigh again, lest he anger the man more. He’d known that getting into a… well, whatever it was that he and Gene were involved in right now, wouldn’t be easy. Hunt seemed to have interpreted Sam giving him space because he thought he’d come on a bit strong the night before as something else entirely.

“I’m not trying to guilt you or anything else. Some people are comfortable with some acts and not others. It’s fine with me, really.”

“Great, now you’re trying to shrink me as well. So what’s your diagnosis, Doctor Tyler?”

Sam gave him a wry smile. “Now I know you don’t really want me to answer that,” hoping he could lighten the mood in the car with a joke.

Catching the man they were looking for finally exiting the building, Hunt thumped Sam on the shoulder. “Enough small talk, Gladys. It’s time to earn your keep.”

******************************************

The fact that their efforts earlier in the day had ended up paying off in an arrest and closed case put Hunt in a much better mood. He even paid for an extra round of drinks at the bar and didn’t complain when Sam leaned a tad too close to him as they sat at one of the tables.

When Gene excused himself later in the evening, claiming he needed to get back to the Missus before he earned too much of a tongue-lashing, despite knowing full well that she was at her sister’s for the weekend, Sam did as well. Gene even offered Sam a ride home, and he accepted with a smile that may have been a little hopeful. Gene was certain it was when Tyler asked if he wanted to come in for a cup of coffee. As if any of those offers didn’t end with coffee being largely forgotten for other activities.

Gene took off his coat, and Sam took it from him, hanging it up near his own on the coat rack before heading over toward the kitchen. Gene hovered near the entrance to the kitchen, feeling oddly on edge. He wasn’t sure if he was more annoyed at himself for wondering about why it might not be such a bad thing to fulfill Sam’s request all things considered, or at Tyler for putting such strange ideas in his head.

“So I was thinking,” Gene started, which made Sam shoot him a look as he smirked. “No lip from you,” he added with a frown.

“I didn’t say a thing,” Sam answered innocently as he opened a cabinet above the counter to retrieve the bag of coffee.

“Before I was so rudely interrupted by you thinking ill of me, I was going to say that… that since you were maybe a bit helpful in closing the case-”

“Instrumental in closing the case, actually,” Sam interrupted to correct. It was a lead that he had picked up on that had made them focus on the suspect in the first place.

Gene sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If you’re quite finished, the answer is yes.”

“Yes?” Sam echoed wearing a confused frown.

“To what you were asking before.”

Comprehension dawned on Sam’s face. “Are you sure? You don’t have to, I mean, I wasn’t trying to pressure you-”

“As if you’re capable of pressuring me into anything,” Gene remarked.

The bag of coffee sat on the counter open and forgotten as Sam stepped away to head over toward Gene, his eyes searching the other man’s.

“What made you change your mind?” Sam asked, gazing up at him.

“You’ve always got to look a gift horse in the mouth, don’t you?” Gene remarked. He silenced his DI’s protests, and many of his own remaining doubts by sealing lips to Sam’s. Tyler responded hungrily, an arm slipping behind his back to grip Gene’s shoulder, his other sliding around his waist.

Somehow the two of them made it back toward where Sam’s bed lay. Breaking the kiss, Sam gazed up at Gene, swallowing thickly.

“Only if you want to,” Sam insisted. Despite the words, Gene could see the hopeful gleam in his eyes.

“I can handle it,” Gene said. “Can’t be that hard to do, can it?”

“Well,” Sam said, ushering Gene closer to the bed, “the best way is probably with me sitting and you kneeling in front of me.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll get a kick out of that,” Hunt muttered as he watched Sam pluck a pillow from the head of the bed to place on the floor in front of him as he sat. Gene moved closer. He planted a hand on his DI’s thigh as he settled down onto the pillow in front of Tyler, who spread his legs so Gene could get close. Sam’s gaze as he watched him was smoldering. After a moment, Sam leaned down to capture Gene’s lips in a passionate kiss, his hand going to the back of Gene’s neck and sliding up into his hair. He moaned as his tongue stroked against Gene’s in the cavern of his mouth.

“Should have known something like this would turn a bloke like you on,” Gene said in a breathless voice when he pulled away from Sam’s mouth.

“To be honest, this is high on the list of my top ten fantasies about you,” Sam admitted with a sheepish grin.

Gene wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what the other nine fantasies were, so he shook his head and raised his hands to Sam’s trousers. He couldn’t help but notice how Sam’s growing erection was tenting them. Eager bugger. Gene took his time unfastening Sam’s pants. He tried to pretend that the fluttering in his gut wasn’t from nervousness at trying something he’d previously never thought he would. He definitely wouldn’t admit that there was even the hint of anticipation that made his gut clench. Finally, Tyler’s erection was free and surrounded with the fingers of one of Gene’s hands. He stared at it, frowning before stroking it slowly from base to tip and back again.

Sam bit his lip. It was all he could do not to urge Gene into action since this act was something he’d long hoped for but only recently worked up enough courage to ask for. Every time he’d seen his Guv purse his lips, suck the icing of a pastry off his fingers, or heaven help him, that time when he’d watched Gene eat an ice cream in his office, Sam would get uncomfortable hard. Usually he’d have to work his erection with his own hand in some bathroom stall at the precinct, panting and yielding to the imagery that his mind conjured for him, but no more. Now Gene was actually here, bending over his lap, his lips opening almost in slow motion as he moved to take the head of Sam’s cock into his mouth.

Gene suckled the crown of Sam’s erection tentatively. He heard Tyler hiss as he did so, which became a broken groan as he slid downward. He wasn’t able to take Sam as deeply as the man could take him, but Tyler didn’t seem to mind judging by the sounds he made. Gene continued to stroke the base of Sam’s cock as his mouth worked. Each groan that his DI made seemed to shoot straight to Gene’s cock. Soon his trousers were uncomfortably tight, but he didn’t move the hand that was braced against Tyler’s thigh to massage the area. Gene was leery of letting Sam know that he was enjoying the act for reasons he wasn’t that sure of himself.

Gene was startled at first when Sam began to buck his hips gently beneath him, a hand braced on his shoulder. Sam’s cock slid through the circle of Gene’s fingers and into his mouth. Gene shivered, getting a perverse thrill by how the thick erection stroked along his tongue. He wasn’t able to suppress a moan, his cock twitching within its confines, which causes Sam to answer with one of his own.

Tyler hissed, massaging Gene’s shoulder as he gazed down at him. “You have no idea how hot you look right now,” Sam said, his voice smooth and low. He licked his lips as his comment caused his Guv to cast eyes up to meet his own. “Yeah, look at me,” Sam purred. “Just like that.” There was something about the sight of those piercing eyes watching him from under furrowed brows, his cock disappearing into Hunt’s mouth that almost undid Sam then and there. The brief scrape of teeth on the underside of his erection had blunt fingernails biting into Gene’s shoulder.

Before long, Gene was watching Sam squint as his head rolled back on his shoulders. Sam moaned as his hips continued to thrust shallowly into Gene’s mouth. The groan that Hunt gave as he shifted where he knelt vibrated through Sam’s erection, igniting his nerves to near overload.

Gene could feel the muscles in Sam’s thigh tense as the man stiffened. He heard his DI groan a warning before hot bitter fluid shot at the back of his throat. Startled, Gene swallowed the fluid reflexively, wiping at his mouth as Sam pulled free.

“Bloody hell, Tyler!” Gene growled, not mollified by Sam’s apologetic look.

“Sorry, I got a bit too wrapped up to give you proper warning. I promise I will next time.”

Gene made a dismissive sound as he rose to his feet. “There won’t be a bloody next time, you ponce.”

Sam couldn’t help but notice the bulge in the front of Gene’s trousers as he sat nearby. “I’ll make it up to you.”

When Sam’s hand stroked across his thigh briefly before cupping his erection through his clothing, Gene almost batted it away in annoyance. Almost. “You’d better believe you will, Gladys.”

“I’m all too happy to do it,” Sam said, his voice like warm honey, before he leaned in to kiss Hunt, gently at first but with increasing fervor as he tasted himself on Gene’s tongue. By the time he broke the kiss, Gene was panting hard and his erection practically bursting from his trousers. With a few quick motions, Sam had freed it from its confines, stroking it deftly in one hand before descending on it.

Hunt was still a bit miffed at having to swallow Sam’s essence, the bitter aftertaste still on his tongue. But when he felt himself engulfed by moist heat, Sam sucking his cock for all he was worth, Gene found himself in much better spirits.

End

Title: Impatience and Longing
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Martha/Doctor
Word Count: 2,273
Warnings: Dubious consent
Summary: The Doctor finds himself in a predicament, and Martha is tempted to take advantage.

The colony on Aldron 3 was known as much for its cuisine as for its welcoming nature towards tourists from various worlds, or this is what the Doctor told Martha when the two of them had been seated for dinner. When the Time Lord had offered to take Martha somewhere relaxing after their previous hectic adventure, she had readily agreed. They’d even procured nice lodgings since they’d be staying for a time. The restaurant that the Doctor had brought her to seemed rather cozy, but whether that was by design or just chance, she couldn’t be sure.

Martha tried to tell herself that romance had little to nothing to do with the Doctor’s current actions. But it was nice, wasn’t it, sitting across from him as he told her about the world they were currently on as they dined. It was nice having him gaze at her with that eager light in his eyes as he told her about all the places they could visit while here. Part of her wanted to believe at least some of what she saw in that gaze was for her, as deluded as the rational side of her told her this was. The Doctor’s affable nature often drew Martha in only to have her hopes dashed by his off hand remarks.

The hand that tilted the flask up to the Doctor’s lips froze as a worried expression passed over his face. He lowered the glass, swallowing hard before examining the remaining blue liquid.

Martha frowned as she regarded him. “Are you alright? You look a bit flushed.”

“Oh dear,” he muttered. The Doctor shifted slightly in his chair. “I knew I tasted that spice on the food, but I thought I’d be alright since I was drinking wine from the blue Arel fruit and not the red one.” He raised his eyes to gaze into Martha’s intently. “It’s seems I got the two confused. My memory’s not what it used to be, it seems.”

“So what’s wrong?” A worried look passed onto Martha’s face. “You haven’t eaten something toxic, have you?”

“Well there’s no problem until the two are metabolized into… let’s just say in a short while I won’t be myself until it wears off.” The Doctor rose briskly from his seat. “I really need to be going right about now.”

“But where-?”

“Just for a little lie down. No need to get worried.”

Martha made to rise from her chair. “I can come with you.”

Alarm flitted across the Doctor’s face briefly before he tried to cover it. He motioned at her with a hand to reclaim her seat. “No no, it’s fine. Best if you don’t come actually. Besides, no need for both of us to miss dinner.” The Doctor strode away rather quickly before halting and turning on his heel to head back to her, his expression serious. “And Martha, there’s no need to check in on me when you get back to the room. I’ll be fine, really, just need to let the metabolite work out of my system, alright?”

Before Martha could utter what was on her mind, the Doctor patted her shoulder before hurrying off. She watched him go as she sighed. Turning back toward her dinner, she eyed it with a downcast expression. So much for sharing a nice meal with just the two of them. She poked at the food on her plate, but her appetite didn’t return to her.

****************************************

Hovering outside of the door to the Doctor’s room, Martha shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She remembered his words before he had left so abruptly, but what if something really was wrong? It wouldn’t be the first time that the Doctor had minimized a problem so that she wouldn’t worry.

Martha pushed open the cracked door slowly, peering inside the room. On the bed lay the Doctor on his back. His shirt was unbuttoned, the fabric splayed across his chest. His sleeping face was turned toward her, an arm hanging off of the bed. The covers spilled over the foot of the bed where they had been haphazardly kicked. The Doctor’s suit jacket was draped over a nearby chair, his trainers and socks cast about on the floor.

Martha edged into the room. She got midway before the Doctor shifting made her freeze. He blinked at her before attempting to push up from the bed. After a few tries, he succeeded in propping himself up somewhat.

“Martha?” he said in a sleepy voice. “What are you doing in – why is it still so hot?” he finished, attempting unsuccessfully to pull his shirt from his shoulders.

Martha frowned, watching the Doctor struggle briefly with the garment before giving up and flopping back onto the bed, looking more rumpled than he did before. “Doctor, are you alright? You seem a little…”

“Never better, never better,” he insisted, gesturing languidly. He turned his head back to her, brows furrowing as he raised a hand to point a wavering finger in her direction. “Didn’t I say not to come in my room? You’re not behaving.” His angry expression suddenly broke in a fit of giggles, his smile wide and silly. “You’re a naughty girl, Miss Jones.”

Martha approached the bed, watching the Doctor as his fit of laughter subsided. “Sometimes, I suppose I am,” she agreed. She berated herself silently for allowing his words to take her mind in a direction that it really shouldn’t go, especially given the circumstances. The bed dipped as she sat on the side of it to gaze at him. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

The Doctor tilted his head back to regard her, and Martha felt trapped suddenly by those large dark eyes. “’S alright. I forgive you.”

The Doctor’s eyes were always intense. Often Martha felt almost like some kind of specimen under the Time Lord’s scrutiny. But now those eyes seemed to hold something akin to hunger as the Doctor managed to rise and place arms loosely about her shoulders. He leaned against her heavily, his face nuzzling into the space between neck and shoulder.

“You smell nice,” he said simply, making Martha shiver as his lips brushed against her skin. She turned her head as she pulled back slightly, moving to give in to the temptation of seeking out his lips with her own. Instead, she ended up watching the Doctor flop back down onto the sheets, muttering about how he was still wearing too many clothes for how hot it was in the room.

Martha sighed, her eyes following his movements as he shifted against the bed, agitatedly trying to divest himself of his trousers. “I can help, just relax,” she said, placing a hand on his chest to still him. The Doctor made a small sound in the back of his throat at the press of her hand against his bare skin. The sound made Martha freeze as she gazed down at him. He looked up at her from under heavy eyelids, his brown eyes seeming almost black, the pupils had dilated so much.

“Yeah, help me. You’re always helpful, aren’t you, Martha?” the Doctor said, his voice low and rumbling.

“That’s me, little miss helpful,” Martha answered with a small uncomfortable laugh. The Doctor continued to gaze up at her, perspiration beading on his skin. He made no move to dislodge her hand.

Biting her lip, Martha slid her hand across his sweat-dampened skin, watching the Doctor’s head tilt backward and his lips part on another moan. The sound seemed to shoot straight inside of her, making her heart race and her breath quicken. She slid her hand slowly over his torso, seemingly mesmerized by the sounds and movements he made. She stroked over a nipple and there was a hissing intake of breath. She raked nails lightly down his chest and he arched up off of the bed, his face twisting in pleasure as he grasped her upper arm. Whatever the substance was the Doctor had been speaking of, it made his body incredibly sensitive.

Martha grasped the hand that the Doctor had placed on her arm to slide it to cup her breast through her blouse as she gazed down at him. He raised his eyes to her face, his gaze seeming almost unfocused.

“Soft,” he said, referring to the flesh beneath his touch.

“Yes, I am,” Martha replied, encouraged by his response. She pressed his hand against herself more firmly with her own, using massaging motions. “I’m soft and warm and other nice things.”

She bent to place kisses along the line of his jaw before pressing her lips to his. Parting his lips with her own, Martha’s tongue slipped inside to sweep the Doctor’s mouth, gently at first but soon with a hunger that surprised even herself. The Doctor could only return her efforts haphazardly in his current condition. He placed a hand at her side that slipped slightly.

Pulling back, Martha placed shaking hands on the band of his trousers, unfastening them to slide them down his legs, underwear to follow.

She found him to be half hard beneath his clothing, which she took as encouragement rather than just the effects of the substance in his system. Surrounding his length with her fingers, Martha watched the Doctor shift against the bed as she stroked him with long firm motions. A smile hovered on her lips at the keening noises he made. It had to be her as well, didn’t it, at least on some level? It wasn’t as though just anyone would do at a moment like this?

Martha surprised herself by hearing those words spill from her lips. The Doctor cracked an eye open to gaze up at her but didn’t answer, far too busy moaning and clinging to the fabric of her blouse. His grip fisted the material, tugging it slightly from its place tucked into her pants as he arched in response to the thumb that slid over the crown of his erection.

“All you have to do is ask,” Martha said, half joking as she pulled her shirt free the rest of the way. She unbuttoned it haphazardly with one hand while her other was still occupied. She took the Doctor’s hand that still held the garment into her own, sliding it across her bared chest.

Watching him writhe and moan under her touch was becoming a bit much for Martha. She rose from the bed to toe off her shoes and hurriedly remove her slacks. She chuckled slightly at the frustrated sound the Doctor made when those hands of hers became occupied elsewhere.

“Don’t worry, I’m back,” Martha said in a low voice as her hands returned to stroke him briefly before she moved to straddle him, holding his length in place so she could slide onto it.

The Doctor’s head tilted back onto the pillow, his mouth open in an ‘O’ before a guttural sound exited from it. Bracing herself with hands on either side of him, Martha raised her hips upward, letting them fall backwards into his lap as she groaned. She moved languidly for a few moments before she picked up speed, riding the Time Lord in earnest.

Martha gazed down at the Doctor. His eyes were closed and his head was turned to one side, lips parted through which soft moans escaped along with unintelligible mutterings as she shifted on top of him.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Martha asked, panting. She cracked a smile as he moaned something she couldn’t quite understand. “I know you do,” she insisted, raising a hand to stroke down his chest. “You’re everything to me, know that? Everything.”

The Doctor bucked under her, stiffening as he came within her. Martha wasn’t far behind, arching as she slammed down into his lap, shuddering as orgasm swept over her. Her chest heaving, she gazed down at him, mouth open to speak words that died on her lips as she realized he was fast asleep.

****************************************

It was with trepidation that Martha watched the Doctor emerge from his room in the morning. He stood in the doorway leaning groggily against it, barefoot and shirt open with his trousers hanging low on his hips.

“How are you feeling?” Martha asked, glad when her voice didn’t waver. She managed not to bite her lip out of nervousness.

“As well as to be expected,” the Doctor replied, stroking a hand back through his hair that left it in more disarray than it had been. “Nothing to be too concerned about. Bit of a headache. Hole in my memory. All things considered, things could have been worse,” he finished, managing a thin smile despite the pounding in his head.

“Well, that’s good,” Martha replied, relieved. On spotting his frown, she added quickly, “not that you’re having side effects, just… that they aren’t so bad.”

The Doctor shrugged off his companion’s apparent nervousness, not realizing that it was related to equal parts guilt and concern. Rubbing his face, he gazed in her direction as a vision danced just beyond the edge of memory. He grasped at it, but it soon slipped away.

Noticing his faraway look, Martha suggested, “Maybe you should get cleaned up. I can order us some breakfast, if you like.”

Blinking, the Doctor regarded her absently. “Yeah, that would be a good idea,” he remarked before turning to move carefully toward where the bathroom lay, a hand on the wall as he moved to steady himself. Martha watched him disappear behind the bathroom door as it closed, sighing before she sank down onto the nearby couch.

End

Title: Promises to Keep
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Master/Martha/Lucy
Warnings: coercion/dubious consent
Word Count: 2,816
Summary: AU. Sequel to ‘Four Walls.’ The Master plays a game at Martha’s expense.

When Martha woke, it was to the fact that the hard metal floor beneath her had been replaced with something much softer. She also noted that she felt clean. Opening her eyes, she realized that she was lying on a large bed in a sizable room that was elaborately furnished. Pushing herself up into a sitting position she gazed down at herself, noting that she was clothed in a short nightgown that was rather revealing. She grimaced as she realized that was all she was wearing. Frowning, she gazed around the room until she jerked backward, her attention caught by the man leaning against the wall across from the foot of the bed.

“Wakey wakey,” the Master said, a lopsided grin splitting his face. His arms were folded and he was dressed in a dark robe. Lucy stood next to him, her long hair down and in loose curls. She wore a nightgown that didn’t leave much to the imagination. “You sleep like the dead,” the Time Lord remarked, stalking over toward the bed.

“What’s going on?” Martha asked, a hand going to her temple. She had a faint headache and couldn’t remember how she’d gotten here. “Why have you brought me here?”

The Master pushed out his lower lip in a pout. “How ungrateful! And after I had you well fed, cleaned up and placed on such a nice bed.” He sat on the side of it, watching as she moved toward the other side, her eyes wary. “My bed’s lovely, isn’t it?”

“Your bed? What’s going on?” Martha frowned. The last thing she remembered was being brought a rather large meal compared to what she usually had. She’d gazed at it for a long time, fearing that it was so because it would be her last before being carted off for some unfortunate fate. Famished and resigned, she’d eaten it, only to realized a short time later it had been drugged. She’d slumped against the wall, giving into the darkness that rose up to claim her, thinking she’d never wake from it. Now Martha was starting to wish that she hadn’t.

“I have a proposition for you,” the Master began, leaning toward her. It took every ounce of strength for her to not move farther away. “If you amuse me, your family will be lucky enough to see you again. If not, well, they won’t be seeing much of anything anymore.”

Animated by anger, Martha moved forward to grab the Master by the robe. The expensive material bunched in her hands as he regarded her with mock surprise.

“What have you done with them!” she demanded.

He laughed briefly in her face. “What you’re doing now isn’t exactly helping them in their plight,” he answered, lowering his eyes to gaze at where her hands clutched at him before they returned to her face. After a moment, Martha released her grip and the Master raised his hands to brush at the wrinkles in the fabric as he gave her a sly look.

“That’s much better. They’re safe for now, well, relatively safe. If you’d like them to stay that way, you’re going to have to be willing to play a little.”

“What sort of ‘play?’” Martha asked, a frown on her face.

Lucy gazed at the Master before sitting on the bed, eying the pair with something akin to hunger. Martha split her attention between the Time Lord and his companion, not liking the situation one bit.

“Come now,” the Master said, “and the Doctor claims you’re such a bright girl. What do you think I’m referring to?”

Martha shook her head. “No, absolutely not. I’m not going to be involved in some sort of torrid, kinky-”

“You make that sound like a bad thing,” the Master interrupted, pouting.

“Send me back to my cell. I’d rather rot there in the cold than go anywhere near you.”

She made as though to rise from the bed, but the Master grasped her wrist tightly, tugging her downward. He pulled her close with his grip on her, his face inches from hers.

“Now now, don’t be so hasty,” the Master cooed, his voice anything but a comfort to her. “What’s to become of your family, then. I’ve gotten so very bored of them. It’s not a good thing, me getting bored with someone. If you don’t want me to think of something… interesting to do to them, it would be a good idea for you to keep me entertained.”

Martha frowned at him, a sinking feeling in her gut, Her hand tightened into fists in her lap and her head bowed slightly. It’s not as though she trusted the Time Lord to keep his word, but what choice did she have? Watch her family be tortured or worse?

The Master canted his head as he regarded her, taking in her posture that exuded acquiescence. “Clever girl. I might just have to keep you around for a bit.”

He gazed at Lucy, who crawled closer, a sly look on her face. Martha frowned at the blonde, wanting to keep her distance from the woman, but being unable by the man on her other side. Her shoulders slumping as she closed her eyes, Martha heard a rustling sound as Lucy lay down next to her.

“What do you want me to do?” Martha asked, resigned to her fate. She was glad that her voice didn’t waver much.

“For starters, you’re going to play with Lucy for a bit while I watch,” the Master said in a matter of fact tone that made Martha blink rapidly at him. She stiffened as she felt a hand slide up her leg. Martha jerked away, turning to gaze at Lucy who was wearing an expectant expression. The blonde gave her a sly grin as she grasped the fabric of her nightgown to draw it upward. Lucy parted her thighs as she bit her lip. Martha drew in a breath before letting it out slowly, realization dawning on her.

“Well, get on with it,” the Master said impatiently, waving her over toward his wife.

Moving much more slowly than necessary, Martha shifted closer to Lucy and downward, moving to take a place between her parted thighs. She glanced up at Lucy, noting her eager look.

“I can’t believe you’re going along with this,” Martha remarked, not really expecting an answer.

“Harry plays the best games,” Lucy answered, drawing her legs back even more.

Martha frowned, not knowing what to say to the odd woman. She shifted forward, propping herself up awkwardly. Technically, she knew how to go about it, but never actually had as her tastes in partners weren’t in that direction. Feeling two pairs of eyes on her as she hesitated, Martha bent forward to tentatively lap at the blonde, trying not to think of what it was she was doing.

She felt Lucy’s hand move to grasp at her hair and try to pull her forward with it. Martha resisted the movement, using shallow swipes that only whet the other woman’s appetite. Lucy made a sound of frustration, nails scraping against Martha’s scalp.

After a few moments of this, Martha heard the Master sigh. “Oh now really,” he said in an exasperated voice, “You can do better than that. You were a crazy coed once, weren’t you? I know what girls do at those wild parties when all the boys are watching.”

Martha pulled back to regard him with disbelief, wondering what kind of places he’d been or movies he’d watched to get this kind of idea. “No! I’ve never been to any parties like that or anything else. Forgive me if I’m not an expert at… at…” She trailed off, not even able to name what she’d just been performing from distaste at the situation.

The Master rolled his eyes. “You can’t be that much of a prude. Normally, I’d be thrilled to have some blushing virgin in my bed, but right now not so much.”

Martha covered her face with a hand. She almost wanted to laugh and cry hysterically at the same time, the situation she was in was so surreal. A myriad of things danced on her tongue to say in response to him mocking her, but she settled for, “Forgive me for not being worldly.”

“There’s nothing for it, then.” the Time Lord said. He gazed up at his wife. “Lucy, show her how it’s done.”

Lucy shifted over as the Master urged a reluctant Martha to lay up at the head of the bed. He squeezed her upper arms briefly as if in warning, which made her stop squirming. She heard him say “Good girl,” but her attention was held by the woman who crawled to take a position between her legs. Martha tensed up as Lucy placed a hand on her upper thigh. A faint smile hovered on the blonde’s lips as she caressed her intimately with her other hand before bending her head to lap at Martha’s core.

Martha’s hands balled into fists. She could feel the Master’s eyes on her from where he sat nearby, watching her intently. She shivered. It turned Martha’s stomach how the woman’s actions were making heat build within her. When Lucy did something with her tongue that made her arch, Martha began to push her away with disgust, partly at Lucy but mostly at herself for her responses.

“I can’t do this,” Martha said, moving to sit up. “I can’t-”

She found herself pushed roughly back to the mattress by the Master, a scowl on his face. “You are just determined to ruin my fun, aren’t you?” he asked as he wrestled with her briefly. The end result was him pinning her arms above her head. “Need I remind you what’s at stake here, little girl?”

Frowning up at him, Martha froze. She relaxed onto the bed, the softness of the mattress and pillows beneath her hardly a comfort. She’d seen the kinds of things the Master was capable of it. If anything happened to her family because of her resistance, she’d feel responsible.

“Just to ensure that you behave,” the Master trailed off, grasping the belt to his robe. He slid it from the loops in his robe and used it to tie her hands to a rail of the headboard. He pulled back from her to admire his handiwork. “You look good like that,” he remarked a smile on his lips.

The Master gestured for Lucy to continue. She moved back into position to lap at Martha in earnest, planting both hands on her thighs to spread her wider. She drew her clit into her mouth, suckling on it and making Martha stiffen.

Martha’s eyes were squeezed tightly shut, her face turned away from the Master. She felt him place a hand to the side of her face. Martha turned toward him in time to see his eyes roll to the back of his head before they closed as he touched her temple.

“That’s marvelous,” the Time Lord said, sharing in the sensations as he probed her mind.

Martha gave him a disgusted look as she realized what he was doing, “I can’t believe that you’re… you filthy-!”

A grin split the Master’s face. “You’re absolutely horrified, and yet you’re enjoying this.” He opened his eyes to gaze at her, his voice roughened by lust. “Who’s the filthy one here, dear Martha?”

Martha didn’t answer as she turned her head away, suffering his touch and that of Lucy’s tongue at her center. She squirmed as she listened to him moan softly and urge Lucy to step up her efforts. Choking on a groan, Martha’s body began to arch.

“That’s it,” the Master moaned, his free hand slipping down to caress himself. “Just a bit more.” His voice broke off as Martha stiffened, the two of them arching as her orgasm washed over them both. Sweaty and spent, Martha collapsed onto the sheets. Panting, she watched the Master move toward Lucy as she pulled back, capturing her lips for an indirect taste.

As he continued to kiss Lucy, the Master gazed over at Martha, enjoying the look that hovered on her face. He broke the kiss to motion Lucy up toward the head of the bed as he moved to hike one of Martha’ legs over his shoulder as her brown eyes widened.

“Now that you know how it’s done, you can return the favor,” he told Martha. He grinned as her eyes widened further before Lucy pressed her head back down onto the pillows before straddling her, an eager look on her face. The Master sank deeply into Martha in one thrust. Her groan at the action was muffled by the press of Lucy against her face.

Far too aroused to use any finesse, the Master thrust raggedly into her, one hand on the leg resting against his shoulder and the other on Martha’s hip. Lucy rocked back and forth, stroking herself against Martha’s lips. Her red nails bit into Martha’s side until the woman reluctantly opened her mouth to reciprocate Lucy’s earlier actions. Gasping, Lucy pressed down against Martha’s parted lips, hoping to get her tongue deeper within herself.

His eyes narrowed to slits, the Master groaned as he stared at Lucy riding Martha’s face, her head thrown back and pale hair falling over her shoulders. As she moved, he caught glimpses of Martha’s laving tongue. The sight made a groan rumble low in the back of his throat, his hips working that much faster and earning a choked sound from Martha.

The Master’s head rolled back onto his shoulders, his eyes closing tight. With a satisfied moan, he emptied himself deep inside Martha. He continued to thrust lazily within her until he was completely spent, pulling out in time to watch Lucy’s body shiver atop Martha in orgasm. Mewling lewdly, she rotated her hips to stroke herself against Martha before bending over to plant her hands on either side of Martha’s hips, lapping the traces of the Time Lord off of her core.

Martha lay panting after Lucy moved off of her, eyes closed and her gut churning at what had just occurred. She felt the Master untie her hands from the headboard. She gazed at him with an unreadable expression as she rubbed at her sore wrists. A faint smile on his face, he sidled next to her, groping her breast absently through the thin nightgown as she shuddered.

“You’ve done very well,” the Master told her in a sated voice. “And I’m a Time Lord who keeps his promises. Your family will get to see you again.” He canted his head and gazed at her sidelong with an exaggerated thoughtful expression. “Well, to tell the truth, they’ve been seeing you this whole time.” He raised up to stretch his arm over her, his fingers splayed as if in demonstration toward the dresser against the wall.

Martha’s eyes followed his outstretched hand toward the clock on the nearby dresser. The clock, which if she looked closely enough, had a hole in the face of it through which a lens focused on the large bed. Hearing the Master laugh made Martha swivel her head back to gaze at him. He wore the most delighted expression as growing horror dawned on her face. She shook her head in disbelief as she gazed between him and the hidden camera before turning away from it in an attempt to hide her face, as if that mattered now.

“Come on, wave hi to Mum and Dad!” the Master said in a manic voice full of humor. He grasped her hand to wave it excitedly for her at the camera as she began to sob, adding an enthusiastic ‘Hi! Hi!’ in her stead. Martha wrenched her hand from him eventually, rolling away from him to curl in on herself, her eyes shut tight as if this could wipe the horror of the circumstances away.

“I bet you taught Tish a few things as well,” the Time Lord added as he sidled toward her. He placed his hand onto her thigh, drawing it up bare skin. “I bet she didn’t know how kinky her big sis was.”

“Shut up!” Martha screamed, her voice tear-filled. She shoved at his hand without looking back at him. “You’re vile! Horrible!”

“Oh stop, you’re going to make me blush!” the Master replied with a grin. He found her reaction priceless. He leaned over her body, planting a hand in front of her as he murmured into her ear. “But I wonder what that makes you for enjoying it so much.”

Martha said nothing but her body shivered at his words. She felt the touch of a hand on her ankle, Lucy no doubt, and jerked the limb away. She wished that the bed would swallow her whole but encountered no such luck.

End

Title: The Turn of the Universe
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: eventual NC-17, this part PG
Pairing: Doctor/Master, eventual Doctor/Master/Martha
Summary: AU. The Master takes the Doctor up on an offer to Martha’s dismay.

Part One

Chantho watched nervously as the professor gazed down at the pocket watch, tracing part of the pattern on the cover with a finger before swirling it around the circumference as if entranced. She spoke to him, but he didn’t seem to hear her, turning to gaze at the far wall absently as if listening to something in the distance. Chantho’s eyes were drawn to the watch as the lid flipped open, cutting off her words as the room was suffused with golden light.

The rocket carrying the last of humankind roared upward toward their elusive Utopia, but the Doctor’s attention was elsewhere. His eyes widened as he felt the unmistakable presence of another Time Lord. He ran from the room, Jack and Martha barely able to keep up with him. They raced toward the door in the hallway, reaching it just as it slid noisily shut. Jack punched furiously at the control pad as the Doctor worked on the door itself with his sonic screwdriver. A distance behind them came the yells of the future kind, who had somehow managed to get into the building, the Doctor quite sure of how. He felt strangely jittery and knew it had less to do with the fear of what was racing toward them through the corridors and more with what waited ahead of him back in the lab. When the door slid open with a hiss, the Doctor was through it the instant the aperture became wide enough, the other trailing behind him.

Back in the lab, the Master walked over to various consoles, continuing to shut power to the base’s defenses while Chantho nervously tried to get his attention and urged him to stop. She breathed a sigh of relief when the man’s hands stilled on the controls, but this had nothing to do with her words. The Master frowned. He could sense that something was off, but couldn’t place it at first. Comprehension dawned on his face as in the back of his mind he felt a gnawing emptiness. Impossible.

He could hear the stamp of hurried footsteps halting in front of the door before the Doctor’s voice came over the intercom.

“Listen to me, everything’s changed now.” There was an edge of desperation to his voice. “Can’t you feel it? There’s only the two of us in all the universe. Two of us and no one else.” The sonic hummed as the Doctor worked to open the door.

The Master’s brows furrowed. He paid no heed to the questions Chantho hovering nearby urged him to answer. He’d seen the destruction on Gallifrey, fled from it as the Daleks stormed the Cruciform, but certainly some of their people would have survived the onslaught.

The hiss of the door heralded the Doctor entrance into the lab, his human companions flanking him. The Master raised his head to regard them, taking a few steps backward toward the counter. He knew there was a weapon hidden there. His hand slid toward the handle of the draw on its underside.

The Doctor advanced, motioning behind him for the others to stay without looking at them. His eyes were fixed on the other Time Lord, an unreadable expression on his face. “It’s you, isn’t it?” the Doctor asked, though in his hearts he knew the answer. “The only person it could be is you. If anyone would manage to cling to life, to escape that destruction somehow, it would be you.”

The Master raised an eyebrow, a faint smile hovering on his lips despite himself. He slid the drawer open surreptitiously, sneaking his hand in to wrap around metal. “The same could be said of you. Half the time I’m not sure if it’s because you’re a bit clever or if it’s some sort of fool’s luck.”

He watched the Doctor inch closer to him cautiously, as though any sudden movements would cause him to lash out like something dangerous. That much was accurate, wasn’t it?

“You don’t have to do this,” the Doctor urged. “Can’t you see? There’s no need for this, that old game of ours. All we have now is each other.”

The Master’s smile was full-fledged now, brimming with honest humor. “You sound like you’re offering something, Doctor.”

The Doctor halted a few feet away, his dark eyes intense. “I am.”

The Master grinned. Weapon behind his back, he sidestepped around the counter and backward toward the TARDIS, his eyes on the other man. “I could just take the TARDIS, old thing that it is, and go on without you. Leave you here trapped and waiting for the end of all things.”

“But what would be the fun in that?” the Doctor countered. He stepped forward to match the Master’s retreating steps. “You’d get bored without someone… worthy to witness your handiwork.”

The Master halted, tilting his head to one side. “So I’m supposed to come with you instead and be what, exactly? Some sort of prisoner for you to keep out of trouble? No thank you.”

“I was thinking more along different lines.”

The Master raised his eyebrows. “I have a hard time believing that you are going to just stand by and watch as I try to conquer worlds.”

The Doctor made a face. “Well, granted I haven’t thought the whole thing through yet. Figured I’d play it by ear.”

The Master couldn’t help but sigh, a bemused expression on his face. This incarnation of the Doctor seemed more a fool than any of his others. Had he really changed into the kind of person who would trust him more than the distance he could throw a small planet, or was the Doctor operating under the delusion that he could stop whatever plans the Master could undertake?

“So, what do you say?” The Doctor asked. He shoved his hands into his pockets casually, but he did this out of fear of the other man seeing them shake. He had the disturbing image of the other Time Lord rushing into the TARDIS before it disappeared, leaving him behind.

“Doctor,” Martha murmured urgently behind him. “This man was trying to kill us. You can’t just-”

“Please,” the Doctor added, ignoring Martha, his eyes on the Master’s face. One of the hands in his pocket clenched into a fist. He wouldn’t miss this chance, not for anything. He couldn’t.

The Master smiled as something occurred to him, a new game that he could play with the other Time Lord that would be a preamble to greater things, but satisfying in its own right. He slipped the weapon into the back of his trousers, covering the handle with his vest.

“Use my name.” A smile hovered on the Master’s lips, his face expectant.

“Master,” the Doctor said in such a way that it made the word sound almost precious.

“This should prove interesting.” the Master remarked, blue eyes flashing.

***********************************************

Leaning against the wall of the console room, Martha eyed the two Time Lords as they moved around the control panel. The professor’s movements were more sober compared to the Doctor’s frantic ones. It seemed as though a kind of joy animated his limbs, a wide grin on his face as he raced around the hexagonal structure opposite the professor. Martha frowned. She was starting to almost regret staying on after the Doctor dropped Jack off in the twenty first century and Chantho off at a time in her people’s recent past. She remembered how hurt the woman had looked when they’d left her, the old man not giving her a second glance as she bid him goodbye. She’d been by Professor Yana’s side for years, completely devoted, and it had all meant nothing to him in the end. Martha tried not to relate this to her own situation with the Doctor. She tried to view his behavior as being due to discovering he wasn’t the last of his kind, with being reunited with someone he’d never thought he’d see again. But if the Doctor barely looked at her before, he hardly did now. In the short time the professor had been on board the TARDIS, Martha felt like a third wheel, like she was an afterthought compared to the sinister Time Lord who now traveled with them.

She could understand why Chantho had, though pained, wanted to leave so swiftly. Not that Yana, the Master as he called himself, wanted her to stay. He’d seemed like such a kind man as a human, so how did he become this person that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up? Or maybe the larger question is how someone like that could have had such a kind man inside of him. She’d asked the Doctor about the past he shared with the other Time Lord, but he changed the subject to something else. Martha still couldn’t believe that the Doctor had invited the man to travel with them. He had tried to cause their deaths, and judging by what the Doctor had said at the time, it didn’t seem to be a one time occurrence. Was it desperation that led him to this or something Martha refused to even think about?

“So where should we go?” came the Doctor’s voice to wake her from her reverie. Only, he wasn’t addressing her, but the Master of course, his smile bright. “Oh I know, how about-”

The Master held up a hand and the Doctor’s words halted suddenly as if his vocal cords had been cut. “If it involves a period of Earth’s history in any way, that’s a no.” He frowned. “I’ve had enough of it for one day, thank you.”

The Doctor turned to gaze at Martha over his shoulder. “How about it? Any suggestions?”

Martha gazed at him before looking away, absently rubbing the back of her neck. She had the odd feeling that she’d give herself away if she looked into his eyes. “Anywhere is fine with me.” She added in a low voice, “I’m just tagging along, as usual.”

The Doctor’s brows knitted together briefly before he recovered, beaming again as his head swiveled back toward the Master. “The randomizer it is, I suppose,” he said, flipping a few switches before the TARDIS lurched, sending its passengers to clutch the nearest stable object as it hurtled through the vortex.

TBC

Title: Enough to Burn
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Master/Lucy
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: Grief
Summary: Ficlet written for Porn Battle VI. At the end of the universe, the Master drives away Lucy’s chill.

Leaning against the console, the Master studied Lucy as she closed the door to the TARDIS behind her, undisguised horror on her face as she strode shakily into the console room. She raised her arms to clutch her shoulders as if it would dampen the chill of what she’d seen, the end of everything. Humans, such as they were, clinging to life against the coming of the cold dark.

He canted his head, pushing off from the console behind him to approach her. Lucy’s eyes stared forward brimming with unshed tears, vacant and hopeless. Beautiful.

The time lord circled behind her to place hands on her shoulders, stroking as if to comfort. Lucy startled at being drawn suddenly from her dark thoughts. The Master’s voice rumbled in her ear as he leaned close.

“I told you that this was how it all ends, humans alone and waiting to be swallowed by the dark. And how they suffer.” He spoke with an emotion that he didn’t feel. “What does the present matter when this is what the human race comes to, their existence meaningless in the end.”

Lucy shivered, feeling as though the darkness outside had crept inside of her just by witnessing it. “I don’t want this.”

“Then help me save them,” he bid her, eyes intense as he turned her to face him. “You can help me build something bright and shining, a fire that can light up the universe for a hundred trillion years until the stars burn out.”

Lucy hesitated, fearing that the price would turn out to be high. She almost frightened herself with how quickly she decided. “Yes,” she said, her voice low enough to be a whisper.

She watched a faint smile hover on the Master’s lips. “Good girl.” He maneuvered her backward until she was pressed against the wall. “Good girls get rewards.”

Eyes closed, Lucy felt a hand glide up her neck to cup her cheek, a thumb wiping at her tears before lips found hers. The kiss was as searing and forceful as she needed, to be warmed by that fire she saw in his eyes or consumed by it.

A few deft movements, and the skirt Lucy wore pooled at her ankles. Transfixed, she watched the Master kneel before her, a smirk on his face as he drew her underwear downward. She bristled from the chill on her legs before there was the heat of hands sliding up the backs of her thighs. Lips pressed against the juncture of hip and thigh before trailing inward. Lucy parted her legs as anticipation made her shiver, the swiping of his tongue earning a hiss.

Lucy was suddenly glad of the wall behind her as she slumped against it, her legs threatening to buckle. She could feel the Master chuckle as she caught herself even as lips and tongue worked against her. She tensed as he plunged deep, his rhythm setting the pace for her moans. Lucy grabbed his shoulders, painted nails raking at fabric. The Master gazed up at her, his eyes catching hers for a moment before he did something with his tongue that caused them to roll back into their sockets, her head impacting the wall with a soft thump.

The Master pulled back to lap around her entrance before sliding two fingers inside of her. Lucy uttered a needy groan at their movement within her. Lips drew her clit between them, pleasure causing her to arch against the wall. Lucy’s breath came in shallow gasps, her limbs quivering. One hand pulled desperately at the fabric of the Master’s shirt, the other at his short hair. He groaned at the scrape of nails against his scalp, the vibrations adding to sensations that were already too much for her. Lucy whimpered as her body was wracked with shudders. The Master shoved his fingers deep, feeling her walls tighten around him as he continued to suckle her, drawing the remnants of orgasm from his companion until she was completely spent.

He slid up Lucy’s body to press her against the wall, the hand that had been inside of her trailing moisture up her thigh. His other hand carded through her pale hair, tightening as he laved and nipped at her neck and chin. The Master kissed her lips hungrily, and Lucy gasped into his mouth as she tasted the echo of herself on his tongue. Her thigh was caught in a grip that was almost painful as it was raised, hips grinding against her in the promise of further heat to drive the chill away.

Title: Waking to You
Rating: Blue Cortina
Pairing: Gene/Sam
Word Count: 380
Notes: No warnings or spoilers.
Summary: Just a bit of fluff, but hopefully not enough to cause cavities. Sam and Gene the morning after.

Sam wakes in his bed to sunlight streaming in through the window and the sensation of a form spooning behind him in sleep. An arm thrown across him moves slightly to brush against his bare chest. Sam smiles faintly, listening to the sound of Gene’s soft breathing. It’s nice, he thinks to wake to something other than a strange little girl and her sing-song rhymes or the feel of half-remembered nightmares. Sam nuzzles into the pillow for a moment. He could definitely get used to this.

The arm around Sam twitches, pulling him backwards slightly as the larger form behind him shifts forward. Gene murmurs something against his neck before drifting off again, the exhalation of air warming his skin. Sam’s face heats as he is reminded of the feel of Gene’s panting breaths on his neck as he hovered above him not so long ago. Of how his hand fisted the sheets as he turned his face into the pillows, muffling his cries as Gene’s hips worked himself deeper within him.

Sam turns to face his companion in such a way that he doesn’t jostle the arm draped over him. Gene’s lips are parted, his brows furrowed ever so slightly in sleep. Sam wonders what it is the man is dreaming about and whether or not it’s something to do with him. Eyes drawn to his bedmate’s lips, Sam leans in to press his own against them. He lingers, pulling away in time to watch Gene’s brows furrow into a full-fledged frown.

Gene’s eyes open after a moment. He squints, blinking at they adjust to the light. “Can’t you let a bloke sleep?’

“Good morning to you, too,” Sam answers, his lopsided grin a little too much for Gene this early in the morning.

“I should have known you’d be the type for romantic nonsense, cuddling and morning kisses and whatnot.”

“Says the man with his arm around me.” Sam’s smile doesn’t fade, and Gene gives a put upon sigh.

“I can’t help that I move about in my sleep. Bed’s too small, and how else am I supposed to stretch out?” He shifts against the sheets momentarily, but despite his explanation, Gene’s arm remains where it is, Sam feeling all the warmer for it.

End

Title: Four Walls
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Master/Martha
Word Count: 570
Summary: AU dark ficlet. Martha in the Master’s grasp.

Martha wakes to another day in a string of days, unending, each indistinguishable from the last. She isn’t sure if it is day or night, sitting on the floor of this small space, dimly lit and without windows. The chain rattles as she lifts her hand to rub at her eyes. She is thirsty, but the plastic tumbler nearby lies empty and turned onto its side. They give her just enough food and water. Just enough to cling to life and consciousness, but no more. Half starved, there are times when Martha is unsure if she is awake or dreaming.

Leaning against the wall, Martha sighs, her head turning to one side. She doesn’t know what’s become of her family, the Doctor, or anyone else, trapped as she is in this small room. The only things she knows of them are what he- It’s best not to think on it, and yet she does, her mind filling with visions of his smiling face, mocking her, taunting her with things he claimed to have done to her loved ones, acts he promises to visit upon her in due time. She shivers at the memories that bleed into each other. Martha berates herself once more for her carelessness in her travels that led her to this, caught and at the mercy of a person who has none.

The door swings inward, suffusing the room with sudden light as Martha winces, her eyes attempting to adjust. She knows who it is by the silhouette in the doorway. He steps into the room, that ever present smile on his face. Martha watches the Master raise a glass of water to his lips. He sips from it as he gazes at her, and she tries not to reflexively swallow or lick her dry lips, but it takes effort on her part.

“Poor thing,” the Master drawls. “You’re quite a sight, aren’t you, Miss Jones?” as he takes in her disheveled appearance, a sharp contrast to his own. “You look absolutely parched.”

He crouches off to one side of her, looming nearby as Martha turns her head away. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the tumbler of water hover near her lips, an offer of a sip that she refuses to take despite her cracked lips and parched throat. Her actions draw a short laugh from him.

“As stubborn as always, aren’t we?” the time lord says. He pulls back to swirl a finger around the rim of the glass before dipping it into the liquid within. Martha flinches at the sensation of a moist finger trailing across her dry lips to spread wetness there. She can’t prevent herself from lapping at it, earning a smile from her captor and shame from herself.

She watches him set the tumbler nearby within her reach. It’s made of plastic, they always are, the time lord not risking the chance of a piece of glass in her hands. Sometimes, Martha thinks it’s for fear she’ll end this game of his, that one day he’d walk in here and she’d be slumped against the wall, her cooling blood upon the floor. Her death at his hands denied him. Martha tries not to cringe at the feel of his breath suddenly warming her ear, at the words that spill from his lips. At the hand that draws across her cloth-covered thigh and the accompanying sultry laugh.

End

Title: Careless Whisper
Characters: The Doctor & Martha
Rating: PG
Prompt: 210 – susurration
Word Count: 100
Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Whoverse, only wish that I did.
Summary: Martha and the sleeping Doctor.

He looks peaceful sleeping there, Martha thinks, the Doctor’s hair mussed and his cheek resting against folded hands upon the table, the book he’d been reading forgotten. The brown eyes that she loves are hidden behind heavy lids. Edging closer, she listens to his gentle breathing. Yielding to something often desired, Martha raises a hand, carding fingers through his dark hair. When a faint smile moves to hover on his lips, Martha finds cause for her own. But then the Doctor murmurs a name from his sleep hazed thoughts, and Martha’s hand stills as if its nerves have been cut.