The Doctor kisses Donna one day after supper and she supposes she should have expected it.
Donna doesn't exactly dislike sex, she guesses it's nice enough at times to be so close to another person, but she hardly thinks it's anything to write entire novels about. She wonders sometimes whether she's simply wired wrong, and that's why she's never (and she's embarrassed to admit it, even to herself) managed to come with a bloke.
She breaks the kiss, and looks up at the Doctor and sees the eager expectation in his eyes. She could never disappoint him, not when he looks at her like he's been given an unexpected gift (or a banana cream pie) so she leans up towards him to kiss him back. It goes on for far longer than she's expected, and a warm feeling of arousal is spreading through her body. She thinks it's nice of him to spend so much time on just kissing. Most blokes she's known have been eager to get down to the main event, and not wasted any time on making out.. And Donna thought the Doctor wasn't like all the other blokes, but it seems men are men everywhere, no matter if they're not human. The thought rolls in her stomach, a grey cloud of disappointment.
Fine, she thinks. Fine, if sex is what he wants, sex is what he'll get. But she'll not stand around her like some lovesick little chit. She pulls away from the Doctor, and proceeds to undress him. His gasp when she strokes him is gratifying. Not so powerful now, Spaceman!
It doesn't last long, her feeling of triumph. As if he's heard her, the Doctor swivels, putting Donna with her back against the kitchen counter, and the Doctor's hands roaming her body. He touches her slowly and carefully, over her big hips and pouting stomach, and if that weren't completely ludicrous she'd say he looks almost reverent.
Silly Donna.
She determines to just get this whole thing over with, and then pretend it never happened and if he wants to do it again, she'll deal with it. She's had plenty of boyfriends with a higher libido than hers, so she's no stranger to sex for the sake of domestic harmony. The nagging was always more annoying than actual act anyway, even if she wasn't always up for it, and she's somewhat on an expert on getting it done quickly.
As far as these things go, it feels rather nice when the Doctor pushes inside her. It's been a while, and the stretch is a little more than she would have liked, but his limbs are cool against her heated body, and the muscles firm beneath his skin. He really is quite an attractive man (for an alien, of course!).
And then his mouth starts searching for hers and it's just too much all of a sudden; the Doctor's body on top of hers, the way he supports his forehead on her shoulder… The tender way he kissed her earlier, and Donna almost wants him to quick and rough, instead of this… pretense of devotion he's putting up now. She knows what he wants, he knows it, they're both adults and there's no point in hiding it behind pretty lies. Those are for little girls and pretty young (blonde) things who deserve them, not old women like her. No, they're just for practice, she thinks bitterly, echoing her mother's words.
And suddenly the Doctor is pulling away from her, looking fearful and shocked and confused. Crying, he asks her, why are you crying, and Donna touches her cheek and realizes he's right. She is crying and she's not even sure why.
But she knows she wouldn't give up traveling with the Doctor for anything. Seeing the stars and different universes and all these amazing, wonderful things, she'd do this and much more besides, and surely he's making far too big a deal out of this. She remembers Tommy, her flame back in uni, who'd looked at her while she sat on the floor crying for hours after her gran died, and thought sex would be a great way to cheer her up. She clung to him desperately afterwards, trying to make him hold her, and comfort her, just for a little while.
She's sitting at the kitchen table again, cup of tea in her hand. The Doctor must have led her there while she was lost in her thoughts. Donna's mouth curves downward in a sneer. She guesses a weeping female was not how the Doctor had pictured that this night would end and she blushes with shame.
Staring into her teacup, she mutters: "I'm sorry. Look, let's just forget about the whole thing, yeah?"
She's met with silence.
"Or…" Donna swallows a lump in her throat. "We could try again," and she hopes he'll say no.
The Doctor starts so violently she can see it even though she's not looking directly at him.
"No," he grinds out between clenched teeth and even though she wasn't actually keen on another round, the insult still grates at Donna and she's suddenly terrified that he's mad, that she's messed it all up and that he'll make her go home, go back and be stupid old Donna and no, she won't. He started this, she thinks, anger bursting forth hot and fiery inside her.
It fades just as quickly as it came when the Doctor moves, quick as a whistle, taking her hand in his. He stands with his head bowed, as if he doesn't dare to look at her.
"Donna… What do you think I am? A rapist?" and for once he doesn't babble or stutter.
It's Donna's turn to startle.
"What?! No! Why would you even say that? You're the most wond..." and she breaks off, embarrassed.
"Why then?" the Doctor asks, confusion lacing his voice. "Why would you think I would want to… continue when you were crying." He sounds disgusted, and Donna realizes he's disgusted with himself, not with her..
"I don't care. It was fine, I would've been fine. You didn't hurt me or anything."
"But Donna, you didn't like it," the Doctor says, and sounds all of his nine hundred odd years.
"It's just…Doctor, it's never really mattered much before. Whether I enjoyed it or not."
