Okay, so . . . this is kinda awkward. This is basically smut. So if you don't like that kind of stuff, don't read this.
The Doctor jerked away from another shower of sparks. He was under the console of the TARDIS, rewiring the gravity stabilizers. Well, attempting to. The old girl was resisting whenever possible. Live wires, sudden flames, electrical shocks, and the rearranging underside of the console were only some of the annoyances she dealt his way.
The TARDIS rumbled irritably. She wasn't pleased with him. He was doing it all wrong . . . .
"I am not doing anythin' wrong!" he snapped, glaring at the machine. "This is the right way and I'd appreciate it if you'd stop trying to kill me."
A hum filled his ears. The Doctor watched the group of wires he'd been stripping and reconnecting rewire themselves as they had been before he started working.
Scowling, The Doctor shoved himself out from under the console. "That's it; where's my sonic?" he growled.
Ah. There it was, on the captain's chair.
He picked it up and fiddled with the settings. That should do it.
Something still didn't feel right. Was something wrong with the sonic?
He inspected the device meticulously, searching for any flaw. There was nothing though, except that tiny lever shouldn't have been— Oh shit!
A wild blush spread across The Doctor's cheeks and he hastily flicked the switch off.
Damn genetic transmitter. He still didn't understand why that option was even included and, despite his many attempts to remove it, the TARDIS continuously created screwdrivers with the irritating lever.
His brain finally caught up with his annoyance.
Why hadn't he felt anything?
Sonic screwdrivers were mentally- or physically- grafted to an owner. The reason for that was so the sonic and its owner could bond, so to speak. The owner would be able to mentally order the sonic to change settings. Of course, it didn't stop other people from using said sonic, which was a ridiculous oversight.
That still didn't answer the question.
The Doctor inspected the screwdriver, having no real hope of finding any indicator as to who its owner was. A screen on the console clicked on. He ignored it in favor of giving the sonic an inquisitive look. "Where did you come from?" The Doctor wondered out loud.
The TARDIS buzzed harshly. She would not be patient with her thief today, not when there was an opportunity to grasp.
The Doctor scowled and glared at the glowing cylinder at the center of the console. "What?!"
The screen swiveled in his direction.
Giving his ship one last grimace, he muttered unhappily, "Fine. First I'll see what you want. Then I'll see about the sonic."
He immediately recognized the room displayed on the screen; it was Dahlia's room. Why would the TARDIS show him her room?
Dahlia entered the room. Her hair was wet and she was wearing her pajamas, navy blue shirt and shorts, both so thin he could almost see straight through them, decorated with the Grumpy Day CareBear. When he'd first seen her in them, he'd nearly choked on his tongue and had barely saved himself with a biting comment. Even now, watching her on the screen, he could see she wasn't wearing a bra. Of course she wasn't. She never wore one to bed.
The Doctor wrenched his eyes away. He shouldn't be watching her. It was wrong. He flicked the screen off. Back to the screwdriver.
The TARDIS hissed in annoyance and turned the monitor back on. He needed to watch her when he tested the sonic screwdriver.
"What? There's no way," The Doctor protested. "You honestly think it belongs to her? Don't be ridiculous . . . ." But his tone was less sure than before. He gave the screen a shifty glance. What if the sonic did belong to her? He could probably just ask her. Dahlia only lied to him when it was absolutely necessary and he doubted him knowing about her sonic screwdriver would cause the universe to collapse.
He look at the sonic again, biting his lip as he lightly thumbed the tiny lever he'd panicked over earlier. It was wrong, where his thoughts were going. He swore never to go down that lane and he shouldn't entertain thoughts of that nature, but . . . it was so tempting . . . .
Maybe . . . just for a second . . . .
The Doctor clicked the switch into place and turned to watch Dahlia's reaction.
She'd crawled under her covers, expecting to sleep, but now her eyes were wide open and her body had stiffened. She knew something had happened, but didn't know what it was.
That was proof enough, wasn't it? No, no, it could've been a coincidence . . . The Doctor swallowed thickly and shifted his grip on the sonic. Dahlia twitched under the sheets. He let out a shuddering breath. Again, a possible coincidence.
The Doctor licked his lips. One direct movement. That's it. He wouldn't violate her anymore than that. Once would be juts enough to confirm that the sonic belonged to Dahlia and satisfy his perverted mind.
Lifting his thumb to lightly stroke a long line up the sonic's side; The Doctor attempted to rid himself of his nerves (excitement) but only caused his hand to spasm. His thumb moved roughly over the metal surface. Instead of caressing, his calluses scraped.
Dahlia's reaction was instantaneous. Her hips jerked and her eyes widened. But the most beautiful part was her sharp inhalation of breath, broken only by the soft ending cry.
That was it. Enough. Proof and satisfaction in one go. Now he could switch off the genetic transmitter, put the sonic down, and forget everything he'd just done. But he couldn't. He couldn't forget. He couldn't stop- not after letting that sliver of lust, of desire, slip through.
"Dahlia, I'm so sorry," he whispered regretfully.
Then he licked a long line up the sonic.
A long, surprised moan reached his ears from the screen. His cock hardened at the sound. Whatever guilt he felt was pushed to the back of his mind for later submersing. Right now he'd bask in the pleasured cries of his companion.
He lightly blew on the cooling line he'd licked. Dahlia squirmed in her bed, whimpering. Her eyes were clouded with pleasure. Her cheeks were flush with it. There was no sign of recognition; she had no clue what was happening, only that it felt amazing.
The Doctor groaned in the back of his throat. His fingers expertly teased every button and switch on the sonic. He knew every sensation each one would cause. He'd done this to himself a few times; he'd done it with others, too. Teasing and being teased.
He knew to start off slowly. Dahlia had never used this function of her sonic before and, if he wasn't careful, the pleasure she felt could easily turn to pain.
He winced lightly. The memory of his first fumbled attempts with this sort of pleasure still pained him to think about.
Another needy moan from Dahlia broke his trance. The Doctor refocused his eyes on the screen, breath hitching in his throat as he did so.
Dahlia had shoved her covers onto the floor. Her shirt had ridden up so far that round bottoms of her breasts were exposed. One of her hands tore the sheets beneath her while the other clawed at her thigh, under the waistband of her shorts.
The Doctor's pants became unbearably tight. While he had been lost in thought, Dahlia had been attempting to pleasure herself but something had stopped her.
He looked down at the sonic to see what he'd done to make her pause.
Oh . . . well that would certainly do it.
His thumb was absentmindedly rolling and pressing a small pale green button, the technological G-spot. He paused his ministrations long enough for Dahlia to catch her breath (and so he could catch his as well). For several seconds, The Doctor just watched her, the object of his desire, lie there panting. His length was throbbing and he could feel the pre-cum smear on the inside of his jeans when he shifted.
Dahlia seemed to have calmed down by now. She was still flushed but not thrashing like she had been moments before.
The Doctor wondered if she would attempt to sleep now that the assault on her senses had stopped. He was shocked and aroused at what she did instead.
The young, human woman sat up quickly to discard her shirt uncaringly.
The Doctor nearly came right then.
Mesmerized by the new sight of her breasts, The Doctor almost didn't realize his companion had flopped back on her bed and lifted her hips, shoving off her shorts and knickers in one short move.
The Doctor leaned heavily against the console with his head bent down and cock straining against his trousers and inhaled deeply. Only his sheer will power kept him from ruining that particular pair of jeans.
He looked up in time to see Dahlia's hand caress between her thighs.
A loud moan escaped him. He didn't care if Dahlia heard.
Not wanting her to get off yet, The Doctor lifted the sonic to his mouth and sucked on the tiny green button.
Dahlia, who had stopped moaning in favor of taking near-silent, shallow breaths, let out a stunned, quivering cry and jerked her hand away from her folds.
The Doctor couldn't take any more. Stuffing the blue-tipped end of the sonic in his mouth (Dahlia began whimpering again); he hastily undid his button and zip. His engorged, weeping cock sprung free, begging for attention.
He took his member in hand and pumped it slowly, groaning around the sonic in his mouth. The vibrations flowed into the sonic. Dahlia responded with light jerks of her hips.
Keeping one hand on his cock, The Doctor used the other to steady the screwdriver in his mouth as he laved it with his tongue.
Her moans and cries increased in volume until he could hear her, not just from the screen, but down the hall as well. The Doctor could even smell her arousal and sweat. Literally, he could. The TARDIS had rerouted the ventilation system, so now he was surrounded in Dahlia's delicious scent. Every time he breathed he could taste her on his tongue.
The Doctor quickened his strokes, pausing at the red tip to smear pre-come along the sensitive flesh. Heat was rapidly pooling in his gut. Whatever blood that wasn't in his dick pounded in his ears. Even while he watched Dahlia writhe in pleasure in her bed, slick with sweat and flush with arousal and pleasure, her breasts heaving as she gasped for air, one of his favorite fantasies reared its head.
He easily imagined her on her knees in front of him. She always smirked in this fantasy, no matter what he thought about. Always teasing 'til it was downright painful. And he loved every second of it. Her mouth was small but it always fit around his cock without incident. The Doctor imagined Dahlia would enjoy sucking him off. Her fingers would wander between her thighs and fuck her core even when he fucked her mouth. She always came seconds after he did, right when his cum would spill into her mouth. She always swallowed. And then she'd smirk up at him like nothing had happened.
The Doctor's jaw tightened and he squeezed the base of his cock tightly. He had almost come. He was only going to indulge himself like this once, and if he was, he wasn't going to come before he watched her orgasm first.
He sucked on the sonic and stroked whatever part wasn't in his mouth. His nostrils flared to inhale more of Dahlia's intoxicating scent. The Doctor wasn't sure if he could stop himself from coming a second time.
It seemed he wouldn't have to, though; Dahlia was letting out a soft keen and grinding her hips against the air. Her eyes were glazed over with pleasure. Then her entire body tightened, from her head being thrown back into the pillows to her toes pointing. Her mouth fell open and her eyes were half lidded. Whatever she called out upon her completion was drowned out by The Doctor's own shout of bliss.
The coil in his gut tightened until it forcefully unwound. Thick, white jets of cum spilled over his hand, dripping onto the metal grating below or staining his boots; some had collected on the console in a small pool.
The Doctor gasped for breath as he swayed slightly. His knees buckled and he would have fallen had he not caught himself on the console with his stained hand. The Doctor glided the sonic from his mouth, switching the genetic transmitter off.
Even through the fog of one of the greatest orgasms of his life, guilt settled in. Why had he done that? How disgusting of a person was he? He had just jerked off to his friend while using her sonic to molest her. If Dahlia knew she'd demand to be dropped off in Cardiff. No- first she'd punch him, and then she'd leave.
The Doctor wiped his palm off on his pants in disgust. He wondered if Dahlia would hate him as much as he hated himself.
There it is. If anyone's willing to review on this, it's extremely appreciated. This is my first solid attempt at anything of the smutty nature and any advice on how to improve would help enormously.