Title: Germination
Author: MTS
Summary: Missing "canoodling under fire" scene in Doctor Who 1.02 "The End of the World", Nine/Jabe
A/N: blames this all on Nos
Two things were developing in his ever-over-working brain – Rose's odd concept of a midnight return (what did she know about time) and if the small robot spiders could be replicating themselves once they attacked the core machinery. Eyes narrowing, he snapped his fingers, switched gears and turned around abruptly.
"This way!" he called loudly – straight into the face of Jabe, the ambassador tree woman of the forest of Cheem. Politely following him, her step was quick and her lips were twisted in a sly smile. She nodded her head elegantly to him and let him pass her as they turned around and began running along the twisted passageways.
Reaching a door, he pulled out his handy screwdriver and beamed at the shimmering device. "Clever little thing," he murmured as he analyzed, pushed and adjusted codes.
There was an intimate breath of air at his ear and he was suddenly pinned to the door before he was fully conscious that she had been moving with purpose towards him.
The sonic screwdriver fell out of his hands and clanged loudly on the floor.
"Well, this is pleasant" was all he could say before the tree woman kissed him firmly on the mouth, her wiry hands keeping him still (he only put up the most mildest of struggles). As she pulled away, he cocked his head. "I'm just worried about the splinters, my pet, if you're not too careful."
With a smile that unnerved him, she lifted her face again to kiss him, her mouth surprisingly warm and wet and he wondered if it was perverse to worry about her having internal water damage and growing mildew. She was made of wood, after all.
Still, it was probably wiser to wonder if they should be canoodling while the world was ending and they were all about to die. Had a nice poetic ring to it, if a bit over the top. And since he was always about to die on a daily basis, this was kind of a sweet little moment to pass up as quickly as he could disengage himself. Besides, he was kind of unsure of how this would work.
However, he was an analytical man and the subject was there for testing. She did have a pretty reasonable technique and it had been a nice long while since he had someone's tongue down his throat. (If ever, he couldn't quite remember.) Albeit, he had never worried about the strong smell of oak and greenery blossoming while snogging a pretty girl before. (If he had ever snogged a pretty girl.) And as his hands were at a loss of what to do as he worried about disturbing her twiggy hair if he ran his fingers…
Sticking to the basics (for he had Read Books), he clung to her waist with both hands as he kissed her a little harder, pondering if she might break if he pushed.
And hopefully, she didn't have an fungal growth that could be transmitted via bodily fluids…
A bit dazed, she pulled away. "My kind would be extremely grateful if you… mingled." Her lips parted and she breathed very deeply. "The germinations of the last time lord of Gallifrey and myself would grow to be wise and heroic leaders."
He bit his lip, perplexed. "Your timing's a bit off, love. We are about to end this mortal coil if we don't step it up a bit."
Her uneven yet smooth hand slid down his abdomen and her flexibly wooden fingers fidgeted with the buckle at his waist. "But you have all the time in the world." She had his pants down faster than he thought was possible. "And pollination can be quick if necessary…if properly motivated."
Not saying it, but thinking very hard "she's a tree, she's a bloody tree," the ninth Doctor shut his eyes tight. "Will it hurt?" he squeaked as her fingers squeezed him gently and he felt a wave of pleasure ripple through and blind his senses.
She kissed him again and there was a vague taste of honey in her mouth. "On the contrary, Doctor. Just relax. It'll be over far too soon."
The impending danger hovering ominously over them slowed down and seemed to wait. An impetuous grin grew and he nodded astutely. "Oh, bloody hell, woman, do it then if it's not too much trouble. I'm happy to be of serv—" He squeaked again as she slid down elegantly and her mouth was closed over him.
The Doctor had Read Books, but must have skimmed over this part.
She was warm and soft and tightly sucking and he felt confused as he wanted to flee at once (there was trouble he had to fix, goddamnit) yet he felt like he was being planted into the floor, his fingers reaching for the doorframe and clinging tightly. Concentrating on time and space and a dimension he'd only experienced in dreams, he let his eyes shut and he tried to ignore the nagging voice still sing-songing "she's a tree, she's a fucking tree" in his head.
A searing flash of green and silver and suddenly it was all over before it had even started. He blinked. Apparently, he was easy. This both depressed him and made him indecently curious. Did women folk like to do this? He seemed to recall the contrary (... he had also Read Magazines)…
Peering down, he watched her dab her mouth with the corner of her dress in an elegant manner and then help him back into this trousers, clicking her tongue like a mother hen.
"Well now, that wasn't so bad?" she beamed at him with such a look of pride that he wondered if he should feel rather smug himself.
"Although," and she licked her lip with a slight grimace, "you seem to be out of practice. A sandy sweet taste like that shouldn't be healthy for a man of your…" – she eyed him carefully – "….refinement."
He stared at her.
"But," she continued, "the forest of Cheem thanks you for your honored gift." She bowed her head. "Now… certain death?" The smile gracing her lips reminded him of his real pleasure in life.
Mimicking her smile, he nodded back to her. "Right, love, let's save the day, shall we?"
fin-