Okay... Martha and the Doctor are still just talking on the phone, but it seems like everyone's ready for the NSFW part, so here we go. ;-) Enjoy!
PART FOUR
Andrew was a man in 1969 who rather fancied Martha.
The Doctor was the man in 1969 to whom Martha pretended to be married, in order to ensure the continued occupancy of their cheap flat.
Martha enjoyed this little scenario quite a bit.
Especially when she told the Doctor about it, and he said, You'd better be careful, one night in 1969.
"I just meant that you probably shouldn't be seen letting him chat you up too much," he told her, on a different night, over the phone, in 2007.
"I knew what you meant," she said. "But it sounded just a bit possessive. And as I told you last night, I've got an active imagination, and I sort of enjoy a bit of aggression… you know, your hand over my mouth, telling me to shut up and hold still. A little fantasy started to gather then. A movie in my mind."
"Ah, the movie."
Andrew had asked her out, and asked if she was sure she was married. "I imagined telling you about it, and that you might be annoyed. You'd wonder how anyone could ask if I was sure I was married, because what the hell kind of question is that? If people aren't convinced, then we'd better think of solutions, ways to make it stick, and seem more real. You'd muse about how perhaps we need to act more convincing, which would mean convincing ourselves a bit…"
The Doctor began to see where the story was going.
Martha continued, "I spent so many nights during that stint in 1969 trying to force down any urges… but that night, I just couldn't. Something had pushed me too far… another man wanting me, I guess. And I could actually hear you breathing, smell your scent. And in my mind, I could hear you whispering in the dark, asking whether I thought Andrew would persist. I tried to resist going further with that little imagined conversation, but my body wouldn't let me forget it."
"So you got up and moved to the sofa."
"I did. And then I was free to play out the movie however I liked."
"And?"
"And you decided that I needed to do a more convincing job, if Andrew was ever going to back off. I imagined the bedroom door opening, and asking you if something was wrong. That's when you said you were afraid that I would blow our cover," she said, her voice lilting, having turned a bit hypnotic. "I promised I wouldn't, and you said, 'When you tell this guy you're married, show me how you do it.' So I said, 'I'm married,' with sort of a flat tone. And you told me it wasn't nearly good enough."
"I was critiquing your acting skills? Oh, the nerve of me," he muttered.
"You sat down on the sofa, even though there wasn't much room for you, and you said, 'try again.' So I did, but again, I failed. And you said, 'you're a young woman, people are going to assume you're newly married. And when you tell them so, there needs to be a private smile, a little bit of a blush, something that suggests you're thinking about what we get up to in the dark… as newlyweds.'"
"And all the while, Martha, you're just lying there… thinking?"
"For the moment, that's all. But the moment I imagine you sitting down and beginning to scold me gently, I started to feel warm. A bit of a tingle. And when you talk about what we get up to in the dark, the tingle gets stronger," she said. And now, for the first time, he heard a heavy breath come through the phone, and she whispered, "And I can feel myself, you know… lubricating."
"Oh yes? Already?"
"I was highly repressed, Doctor," she said.
"What about now? Right now?"
"Now, too," she confessed. "Partly because I know where this story goes, and I can't wait to get there."
"Then keep talking," he said, breathily.
"The very first time I played this movie in my mind, you asked me to say it again, 'I'm married,' with the private smile, but it still wasn't good enough. So you leaned down very close to me and said, 'If you can't imagine what we might get up to in the dark, well then...'"
"I'll have to give you something to work with," he finished, but just barely.
"Mm-hm," she sighed. "Ooh, I like the way you said that."
"I like the way you've been saying everything."
"So I imagined that you leaned down to kiss me… lightly on the cheeks, chin, then my ear, and jaw. All the while I could feel your left hand slipping under my head, threading through my hair…"
"I like that."
"… and the right hand cradling the other side of my face, putting pressure on me. And when your entire left hand was buried in my hair, you pulled my head to the side a little roughly, so that you could kiss my neck… with your whole mouth – teeth, tongue, everything."
"Is that what you'd like?"
"Of course," she answered, practically singing.
"Hm. Duly noted," he said, clearing his throat.
"Too much, Doctor?" she asked, playfully. "Getting the urge to cut me off again?"
"That is most definitely not my urge."
She chuckled sardonically and continued. "So… in the same moment, I slipped my hand down past the waistband of my knickers and pressed it against that fleshy little triangle between my legs… and it was a bit of a tease, because I could have gone further, couldn't I?"
"I suppose you could."
"But I didn't."
"And why didn't you?"
"Because I had all night. And we've got all night."
"Yes, we have."
"Not that I've got the patience to wait all night. Not now, not then."
"Rather glad of that," he whispered, almost involuntarily.
"So d'you know what? I moaned your name, because I was imagining it was your right hand now, having moved irresistibly down… past my waistband, and against that fleshy little triangle."
"Wish I could have heard that."
And so she let him hear it. She said his name with a rich, low, passionate gusto that made him nearly hit the ceiling, and simultaneously melt into the bedclothes. And he let out a whispered expletive that rather a sharp effect on her. She noted it, and continued speaking.
"Well, the moan was more or less involuntary, you see. I was aware that I'd said it out loud, though, and the real you could have heard me, and could have walked out at any moment and caught me that way."
"If I had heard it then, things would have been very different for us."
"I know," she sang.
"And if I had caught you… oh, dear God, I wish I had caught you."
"Me, too," she replied. "But as it was, I'd said your name, and in my mind your hand was where mine was, and I could feel things mounting inside of me, and you said, 'I could still turn back. Tell me to stop.'"
"Did I really mean it? Could I have turned back?"
"I don't know, Doctor. The tone was a bit bitter, a bit biting, like you were daring me to stop you… but you knew that I couldn't, even if I wanted to. I told you I would never keep you from doing anything and everything you wanted with me… and the look on your face told me you already knew as much. That you've known it all along."
"I know it now."
"And all you could do was moan in my ear as I imagined your lips and teeth nipping at my neck again, and your fingers slipping down further…" her breath hitched, and the Doctor could hear a little moan coming through the phone.
"And finding?"
"And finding… and finding…" she breathed. The rest of the thought came out as a flowing half-whisper. Almost a distracted stream-of-consciousness utterance. "Total proof that I would never keep you from doing whatever you desired. That I'm yours. Yours, for anything you'd like to get up to in the dark."
"Martha?"
"Yes?"
"Are your fingers finding that proof? Now, as you're talking to me?"
"Mm-hm," she affirmed, dreamily. "Are yours?"
There was no answer from him.
"Doctor?" she asked. "Are you still there?"
"I'm still here," he mused. "I'd be hard-pressed to leave you now."
"Then why can't I hear you?"
"I'm enjoying listening," he told her. "I'd like to listen to you… feel."
"Mm-hm, and you? Will you be feeling as well?"
"Of course."
"So you've let it get inside you, and that's wonderful to hear."
He gave a bit of an aggravated half-laugh. "Oh, it's in me now."
She let out a long, languid, semi-satisfied sigh, followed by a tiny grunt. For a few minutes, she let her fingers explore her body, most notably, the moist, slippery "proof" of her infatuation with him, with this fantasy, with this moment…
And he listened. She said nothing for a few minutes, but breathed, sighed, and felt. He could hear her, and her sensation practically reverberated through him everywhere - head, shoulders, extremities.
It had had the desired effect on him. As he had already confessed, she was well and truly under his skin now, and just about every part of said skin was buzzing and waiting for her. The near-silence was delicious and maddening… the feeling was exquisite.
And after several minutes, she continued, her voice airy, desirous. "And so, your fingers moved… it was so easy. I was warm. Wet. My skin was swollen and slippery and pliable. So you stroked in a circle, gently at first, even though your other hand gripped my hair hard enough to hurt. Index and middle finger, anti-clockwise over my clit…"
"Anti-clockwise? Are you certain?"
"Oh, quite certain. I'm feeling it right now, as we talk," she replied. Then she sighed, and was quiet, except for breathing, for another few moments. "And I never removed my clothing, but if you had seen me there on the sofa, there could be no doubt of what I was doing."
"I wish I had had the wherewithal to get up and wonder where you were. Wish I had seen you…"
"Me, too," she re-affirmed.
"Wish I could see you now."
"Me, too," she repeated. "You'd see something very much like that night in 1969, Doctor."
"Tell me more about that night."
"In my mind I could hear you talking to me. Asking questions. Did I like it, and how much?"
"And your answer?"
"I whispered that I fucking loved it," she told him, half-breath, half-moan.
"I can hear that quite clearly."
"That it was making me unravel."
"That, too."
"You asked if I wanted you to go faster on my clit, or pull my hair harder."
"And?"
"The answer is always yes, yes, yes…" She said those words slowly, then trailed off. He heard her gasp just a little through the phone, and it made his head spin. "And so, I imagined that you did. Both. You gripped my hair so hard that I cried out, and your fingers ground into my clit harder and faster, and you urged me, 'come on, come on, Martha' until I couldn't… couldn't…"
He could hear her breathing harder. "Couldn't what, Martha? Don't stop talking."
"I couldn't take it anymore," she answered, her voice straining, breath coming in spurts. "You asked if you were hurting me…"
"How considerate of me."
"And I answered, 'yes, you're hurting me,' and I came, Doctor. I just… I… right then, I burst, and…"
"Oh, wow…" he whispered in genuine surprise, freeing up his hands for a few moments, for fear of letting go now, clouding his senses, and missing this sweet moment.
And then, there was a sharp, telltale gasp on her end, followed by two bursting, low moans. "Oh… oh, my God..."
"Oh, Martha," he breathed, almost in awe.
After ten seconds or so, he heard her exhale with a throaty, gorgeous finality, an indicator of satisfaction that he hadn't heard out of another living being in far too long.
"Mmm, so, I imagined you hurting me, and it made me come all over your fingers… my fingers," she said. "In 1969, and again just now. And don't think I haven't wondered what's wrong with me."
"Nothing's wrong with you."
"So glad you think so, because that felt bloody lovely," she laughed-sighed. "It's been a while."
"It was very, very lovely," he agreed. "Though, I should probably tell you, all I did was listen."
"Good, because the movie isn't over."
"Oh no?"
"Oh, no," she answered. "You were far from finished with me."
"Well, it's good to know that even in your mind, when I do something, I do it right."
"Oh, indeed. I'm still a bit sensitive and precious at this point…"
"In the fantasy? In 1969 lying on the sofa? Or now?"
"All three," she answered, with a little hint of moan. "And while I recover a bit, I watch you suck on your fingers, and relish in the taste of me."
Something about this gave the Doctor a jolt, and he had to concentrate to keep his body (especially his hands) in check.
"And I hear you speak to me softly, and tell me…" she began.
"…that I've wanted to touch you that way for a long time?" he interrupted.
"Yes."
He barely moved his lips as he spoke, but Martha understood him perfectly. "That experiencing your orgasm with you was a windfall, and nothing less than a bloody revelation? Something I've thought about over and over again?"
"Yes, but filthier."
"That I wish I hadn't been such a bloody cretin?"
"And that," she chuckled, languidly.
"That hearing you come has made me wish so badly that I could be with you? Touch you?"
"Ah, at last, you feel what I feel," she sang.
"I feel… all the things. Everything," he gulped.
"I'm so, so glad to hear you say that, Doctor. You feel everything. So feel. And then…" she said, clearing her throat a bit. "In my mind, as my body calmed, you asked me if I was still throbbing a bit. I said I might be throbbing forever. 'I hope so, because I'm still here, and we have more work to do,' you said."
"Work to do, eh?"
"Mm. You told me that if we were going to actually convince anyone else, we'd have to do better."
"I'm a very practical man," he said, smirking.
"You said, 'If you're going to say you're married, and give that secret smile with all that that entails, you're going to have to convey more than just being touched, and writhing, and shuddering over a bit of hair-pulling.'"
He chuckled. "Seems sensible."
"The Doctor in my movie is lusty and clever."
"You don't say."
"And oddly logical."
"Well, logic has to be part of the carnal experience. It just does," he joked.
"Dare I use the word manipulative?" she asked.
"You might, indeed."
"And fantasy-Martha finds it maddeningly endearing."
"Based on what I know of her, I have to say, I'm not surprised."
"So, when you said that I'd have to convey more than just a highly effective fingering, but also a good, hard, hungry fuck, newlywed-style, I didn't argue."
"Well, thank heaven for that."
So, as you might have guessed, we aren't quite done with the NSFW.
But, I do genuinely need an opinion from you folks who are reading. Once the next leg of Martha's fantasy is over, what do we do next? I cannot decide whether:
a) The Doctor will then reciprocate, as he promised to do, and describe some of his own fantasies, perhaps on a different night, and continue their phone-sex relationship, or...
b) He will materialize the TARDIS in her street, and they act out the fantasy/fantasies. Or just grab onto each other and not let go until they're both half-blind and totally spent?
Choose your own adventure - which would you rather read? I'm genuinely not sure which way to go!
Either way, stay tuned for chapter 5, and don't forget to leave some feedback with thoughts, feelings, etc! Thanks for reading!