Hello all who may be reading this blog and a Merry Christmas to you all. Ho Ho Ho!
I realise I've not posted since November. Not that much has happened, but still. I did go to the preview of Hamlet and very VERY good it was too. Of course it is now on today, so I won't say too much, but you are all in for a treat. Visually stunning at times and performances that are as good, if not better, than I saw on the stage. Really cannot wait to get my hands on the DVD next week. I've not pre ordered, silly me, so I'm hoping that Asda will have it. Although, thinking about it, Asda and Hamlet are possibly not natural bedfellows...
What else? Well, work has been a beast, but that is par for the course, really. Been working hard and the like. But at least I've had a bit of luck there - I won £40 in the monthly staff lottery, I then won second prize in a staff raffle and bagged a portible dvd player. Then I found out that, for the first time ever, I and my co-workers, were getting a bonus! And it's not a bad sum, either. So I now have itchy fingers until I get it in my pay packet on 15th January! What to buy, what to buy?! I think a nice DW specials box set, at least. And a new phone. Ahhh yes.
Christmas (or as I have come to think of it this year, Tennantmas) has been it's normal self, only changed by the appearance of the lovely lad in many different guises across the BBC schedules. They really wanted to use him whilst he was still there, didn't they? As usual, however, he has been his normal bright sweet and clever self, making friends at work comment how funny and likeable he is. He also made me cry my eyes out in a frankly bonkers Doctor Who. The moments with Wilf were/are priceless and I didn't just cry I wept bitterly during the cafe scene. I don't know what Rusty was on when writing most of the rest of it, but that was glorious, and made better by BC and the lad. After seeing the alternative trail on the DW website, I am going to buy in extra hankies for next week, because the end of Ten is going to break my heart. I'm also making a crackpot prediction that wilf is his son from when he was John Smith. Really.*
*speculation only, may not happen. Timelords can go up and down and your Timelord may be at risk if you do not keep up to date on your TARDIS payments. Standard terms and conditions apply.
Right off to help sister cook Boxing day dinner. Pheasant and all the trimmings. Oh yes, we are that posh!
Saturday, 26 December 2009
Thursday, 19 November 2009
New fic. You lucky people...
New bit of fic, not very good (not that any of it is, of course) but at least it's new. Very short, so don't fret!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wrong.
Wrong.
He was wrong, he'd done wrong and now... now he was no better that him. The man he'd watched destroy the earth, the man who had killed and maimed and tortured the earth for 365 days. The man who had hunted someone that had been asked to do an impossible mission, and had killed anyone who had been in the way of getting to her. The man who wouldn't accept that he could not do everything and that he shouldn't be able to do everything but still wanted everything. He was like him now. He had destroyed time. Destroyed it because it wasn't what he wanted, so he had made it fit to his thoughts, his wants, his will. Time will obey me, he'd bellowed. Why now? Why not when they had all gone, all burned, why not when he'd lost everything, why not when thousands of people had been dying every day, why not to make them forget the pain, why not to make her remember without pain? What was it about that one day on Mars, that person, that situation that had made him fall, made him become HIM.
He has now become everything he hates - judgemental, vindictive, power-hungry and superior. He's gone too far, he knows it, The TARDIS knows it, the universe knows it. And he wants to stay; he's not ready to pay the price, not ready to leave it all behind, to become a new face, new body, new man. He wants to be this man forever. And there is just enough of the power-mad wrath of the Timelord Victorious left in him to think he can do that, still enough of the other HIM left to rage and decide it's not going to happen, not going to happen because he says so.
'No!'
He throws the lever and hangs on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wrong.
Wrong.
He was wrong, he'd done wrong and now... now he was no better that him. The man he'd watched destroy the earth, the man who had killed and maimed and tortured the earth for 365 days. The man who had hunted someone that had been asked to do an impossible mission, and had killed anyone who had been in the way of getting to her. The man who wouldn't accept that he could not do everything and that he shouldn't be able to do everything but still wanted everything. He was like him now. He had destroyed time. Destroyed it because it wasn't what he wanted, so he had made it fit to his thoughts, his wants, his will. Time will obey me, he'd bellowed. Why now? Why not when they had all gone, all burned, why not when he'd lost everything, why not when thousands of people had been dying every day, why not to make them forget the pain, why not to make her remember without pain? What was it about that one day on Mars, that person, that situation that had made him fall, made him become HIM.
He has now become everything he hates - judgemental, vindictive, power-hungry and superior. He's gone too far, he knows it, The TARDIS knows it, the universe knows it. And he wants to stay; he's not ready to pay the price, not ready to leave it all behind, to become a new face, new body, new man. He wants to be this man forever. And there is just enough of the power-mad wrath of the Timelord Victorious left in him to think he can do that, still enough of the other HIM left to rage and decide it's not going to happen, not going to happen because he says so.
'No!'
He throws the lever and hangs on.
Wednesday, 11 November 2009
Dreamlife...
I really sound like I have no life on this blog, but I kind of do have one, honest. I just seem to talk more about one aspect on here. And this post is not really going to change that, because it's predictibly about Mr Tennant again. But it's his fault, as he has invaded my dreams twice this week, and odd-ish dreams they have been as well.
First one was... well, we won't say quite what it was, but the strange thing it was it was very 'Peepshow' esque. You know most dreams are kind of a mixture of you experiencing it but also looking from the outside? (well, they are for me!) this was just all about his face, very close and... well, just very close as we... talked. Yes. It was extremely vivid and although lovely it was also strange to recall when I woke up.
Second dream was last night - a weird mixture of him as himself, and also as the Doctor. There was some sort of story, involving the end of the world, something to do with blood and something he was carrying; I can't quite remember what it all was, but it may have something to do with me watching Film 2009 and JR reviewing the film 2012 just before I fell asleep. Anyways, it was all quite odd, but this time in vivid touching feeling way - no, not like that! He had shirtsleeves on but I can still remember the feel of the skin and hair on his arm, and holding his hand (not a soppy as it sounds) And again, the face very close as he talked, all eyes and expressions. ( I would also like to say here that I put him in a particularly fetching shirt and if I could design clothes I would because it was, even if I say so myself, bloody nice.)
Anyways, now I've made myself sound like even more of a complete nutter than I already have, I wish I knew why he keeps invading my dreams in such a vivid way this week - not that I'm complaining, but they were just such unusual dreams, particularly the very close ups of his face. I don't know what my dreams are trying to tell me, but I'm prepared to listen if it wants to tell me some more....
First one was... well, we won't say quite what it was, but the strange thing it was it was very 'Peepshow' esque. You know most dreams are kind of a mixture of you experiencing it but also looking from the outside? (well, they are for me!) this was just all about his face, very close and... well, just very close as we... talked. Yes. It was extremely vivid and although lovely it was also strange to recall when I woke up.
Second dream was last night - a weird mixture of him as himself, and also as the Doctor. There was some sort of story, involving the end of the world, something to do with blood and something he was carrying; I can't quite remember what it all was, but it may have something to do with me watching Film 2009 and JR reviewing the film 2012 just before I fell asleep. Anyways, it was all quite odd, but this time in vivid touching feeling way - no, not like that! He had shirtsleeves on but I can still remember the feel of the skin and hair on his arm, and holding his hand (not a soppy as it sounds) And again, the face very close as he talked, all eyes and expressions. ( I would also like to say here that I put him in a particularly fetching shirt and if I could design clothes I would because it was, even if I say so myself, bloody nice.)
Anyways, now I've made myself sound like even more of a complete nutter than I already have, I wish I knew why he keeps invading my dreams in such a vivid way this week - not that I'm complaining, but they were just such unusual dreams, particularly the very close ups of his face. I don't know what my dreams are trying to tell me, but I'm prepared to listen if it wants to tell me some more....
Thursday, 5 November 2009
Crikey!
So.
I went to see the Graham Norton show filming. Nothing much special about that. Ahh, but this show had a certain Mr Tennant as guest, so therefore was pretty damn good. This is the story of that show...
After mailing the show when they asked for DW fans, I was more than surprised to be offered tickets with reserved seats - had to be there by 5.30, no queuing really and taken in early. Lovely! Then had another mail, asking for questions for David about DW. Send a couple off, one being about the Myrka, but with no hope of being picked to ask anything (my feeling was right, but never mind)
Met Alison in the pub (my plus one), went down to studio and waited a little while in the freezing wind, then got wrist bands and taken into the studio. Our seats had our names on, and I was fourth row centre, so was very pleased.
Warm up man came and went and finally, time to start the show. David was first out and, blessings of blessings, appeared to be wearing a brown velvet suit, white shirt and pink/blue flowered tie. Alison and I are sure it is velvet and sure it is new - nicely fitted and very VERY smart. Hair looked good... Good hair.
So much happened, it is so difficult to remember it all - He did at one point do a very dramatic impression of Timothy Dalton's voiceover in the upcoming eps, called himself a fanboy, did another very good impression of a fanboy when discussing DW being broadcast on a Sunday for the first time - 'I think you'll find, Mr Norton that 'The Christmas Invasion' was broadcast on Sunday, Christmas Day falling on that day that year.' He also talked about 'Rex' a little, mentioned he'd done 'a few' auditions in the US, and also that the final filming of DW was very emotional, that he doesn't think it's really sunk in yet that he's left, but he will always be 'the Doctor'. There was also a quite filthy but very funny conversation between him and Johnny Vegas about a Pringles tube that I'm sure won't get left in, but his face was priceless during most of it (as it was during most of Johnny's stories, really)
There is more I'm forgetting, I'm sure - I think what I'll do is leave it at that now because I really do have to be up for work at 4.30 am tomorrow and it is nearly 12am already. I will blog more if/when I remember tomorrow afternoon.
I went to see the Graham Norton show filming. Nothing much special about that. Ahh, but this show had a certain Mr Tennant as guest, so therefore was pretty damn good. This is the story of that show...
After mailing the show when they asked for DW fans, I was more than surprised to be offered tickets with reserved seats - had to be there by 5.30, no queuing really and taken in early. Lovely! Then had another mail, asking for questions for David about DW. Send a couple off, one being about the Myrka, but with no hope of being picked to ask anything (my feeling was right, but never mind)
Met Alison in the pub (my plus one), went down to studio and waited a little while in the freezing wind, then got wrist bands and taken into the studio. Our seats had our names on, and I was fourth row centre, so was very pleased.
Warm up man came and went and finally, time to start the show. David was first out and, blessings of blessings, appeared to be wearing a brown velvet suit, white shirt and pink/blue flowered tie. Alison and I are sure it is velvet and sure it is new - nicely fitted and very VERY smart. Hair looked good... Good hair.
So much happened, it is so difficult to remember it all - He did at one point do a very dramatic impression of Timothy Dalton's voiceover in the upcoming eps, called himself a fanboy, did another very good impression of a fanboy when discussing DW being broadcast on a Sunday for the first time - 'I think you'll find, Mr Norton that 'The Christmas Invasion' was broadcast on Sunday, Christmas Day falling on that day that year.' He also talked about 'Rex' a little, mentioned he'd done 'a few' auditions in the US, and also that the final filming of DW was very emotional, that he doesn't think it's really sunk in yet that he's left, but he will always be 'the Doctor'. There was also a quite filthy but very funny conversation between him and Johnny Vegas about a Pringles tube that I'm sure won't get left in, but his face was priceless during most of it (as it was during most of Johnny's stories, really)
There is more I'm forgetting, I'm sure - I think what I'll do is leave it at that now because I really do have to be up for work at 4.30 am tomorrow and it is nearly 12am already. I will blog more if/when I remember tomorrow afternoon.
Sunday, 25 October 2009
This really is turning into a fic blog, isn't it?
Cos there is nothing else happening, a couple of bits of old fic again, this time Donna related. Small and boring, but have a read if you would like....
First is prior to her return but after RB -
####################
Martian Boy.
He was a right skinny bastard. He put that jacket round my shoulders and it felt like I'd split the seams just by looking at it. It wasn't very warm, though. He needs a bit more meat on his bones. Not that I felt cold up there. I don't feel the cold. But no one had ever put a jacket round me before.
Bit poncey, if you ask me.
And boy, could he talk! On and on. I couldn't get a word in edgeways! I mean, I'm shy, so I didn't say much…but it was a miracle he heard a word I said he was so busy giving it large.
On and on and on.
Cheeky sod as well. Bloody Martian boy. Didn't think Martians would be so mouthy. Not in English, anyways.
He had very brown eyes. And so big. Huge...
Comes of being a bloody Martian, I suppose. They are all bug eyed, ain't they? Like ET. Except he wasn't like ET. Well, he was as irritating as ET, but he didn't look like ET. He was...taller. Thinner. A lot thinner. Good puff of wind would have had him over. He should try eating now and again on Mars. I know it's Mars and all that, but... Maybe he should have wolfed down a couple of Mars bars. Yeah, he would have liked them.
But...he showed me the beginning of time. I mean, the very, very beginning. What other bloke could do that for you? It's usually too much trouble for them to show up on time for a date, cos they got stuck in the pub talking to their mates – but show you the very beginning of the world? Yeah, like that's going to happen. They might think they can make the Earth move for you, but...
Well, no one could ever match that, could they?
Ever.
No one will ever, ever match that.
Oh...bugger.
Who'd have thought I'd miss Martian boy?
#####################
And now onto poor Donna after she'd left again...
##########################
Niggle.
She couldn't wait for this weekend... X factor was starting again. Lovely. That was her Saturday nights sorted for a few weeks... X factor, feet up in front of the telly, Pringles in one hand and a nice Bacardi Breezer in the other... Then up and get ready for a night out with the girls down Blazers, a kebab on the way home and a lie in on Sunday, listening to Mum moan about not helping around the house and not doing anything with her life. What did she think temping was? Easy? ‘Cos it bloody wasn't. She needed her Saturday nights with the girls. Plus Big Brother had been a right letdown this year, and X Factor was going to be her only other bright spot, watching all those losers trying to make something of their lives. Half of them looked like they came from outer space...
Oh, bugger. There it was again.
The niggle.
The feeling, somewhere in the back of her head, of something just out of reach she couldn't touch.
She'd started to get it at the oddest times. When she saw that bloody great spider run across the carpet yesterday. When she watched that Poirot bloke on telly. When she heard Star Trekkin' at Shaz's party the other weekend. Once it happened when she'd seen a blue front door she'd passed, and another time, bizarrely when she'd seen that skinny bloke from Pulp... God knows why, ‘cos she certainly didn't fancy him, that was for sure, all skin and bones. And he was a speccy four-eyes as well, she’d never gone for blokes in specs.
It was sometimes worse when she went to visit Granddad on his hill, taking him his flask and a nice sausage sarnie. She'd look through his telescope at the blackness and although she saw nothing, she'd keep looking. The niggle kept her looking, like she was expecting something. She was a right silly cow, she knew. Just blackness up there, no matter what the papers said, they just talked a flipping load of rubbish. But that niggle, that bloody niggle... She'd turned to Granddad the other night, pulling his leg about wasting his time on his bloody hill, silly old sod, 'cos there was nothing up there. And he was crying. He'd tried to hide it, but she knew he was. She'd asked him why, but he'd said that the 'wind was making my eyes water sweetheart and you're right, I am a silly sod. Nothing up there. Not anymore.' Then he'd got up and told her he wanted to dance to one of his old songs he had going on his little portable stereo, so she'd got up and boogied with him. He'd soon perked up, bless him.
Soon be home, she thought as the clocked ticked round to 5pm... She flicked through the holiday brochure that Jane had left - she'd been bragging about her honeymoon in Italy. She couldn't see why anyone would want to marry that mouthy cow, she thought she was it, all...
The niggle. And there it was again, making her stop and stare at the picture. A picture of Pompeii, people walking in the ruins, the volcano in the background. Who would want to go to a place where so many people had died, had suffered? The blackness. The choking ash, the screaming. The poor children... Why did they go to the beach, why go to the beach, instead of running right to the hills?
She shook her head.
Stupid Jane was such a show-off; her boyfriend must be a right loser, taking her there for a honeymoon. She looked at the clock - 5pm. Lovely. Home time, in the car and a stop off on the way to pick up the weekend supplies - Breezers and Pringles.
She threw the brochure onto the desk, all thoughts of Italy gone. It had been a hell of a week, they’d had her non-stop typing. There were more important things for her to think about than stupid Jane's honeymoon and her boring job... Like sour cream and chive or barbeque beef - what flavour Pringles was she going to have this week?
God, she was so looking forward to this weekend. It was going to be brilliant.
First is prior to her return but after RB -
####################
Martian Boy.
He was a right skinny bastard. He put that jacket round my shoulders and it felt like I'd split the seams just by looking at it. It wasn't very warm, though. He needs a bit more meat on his bones. Not that I felt cold up there. I don't feel the cold. But no one had ever put a jacket round me before.
Bit poncey, if you ask me.
And boy, could he talk! On and on. I couldn't get a word in edgeways! I mean, I'm shy, so I didn't say much…but it was a miracle he heard a word I said he was so busy giving it large.
On and on and on.
Cheeky sod as well. Bloody Martian boy. Didn't think Martians would be so mouthy. Not in English, anyways.
He had very brown eyes. And so big. Huge...
Comes of being a bloody Martian, I suppose. They are all bug eyed, ain't they? Like ET. Except he wasn't like ET. Well, he was as irritating as ET, but he didn't look like ET. He was...taller. Thinner. A lot thinner. Good puff of wind would have had him over. He should try eating now and again on Mars. I know it's Mars and all that, but... Maybe he should have wolfed down a couple of Mars bars. Yeah, he would have liked them.
But...he showed me the beginning of time. I mean, the very, very beginning. What other bloke could do that for you? It's usually too much trouble for them to show up on time for a date, cos they got stuck in the pub talking to their mates – but show you the very beginning of the world? Yeah, like that's going to happen. They might think they can make the Earth move for you, but...
Well, no one could ever match that, could they?
Ever.
No one will ever, ever match that.
Oh...bugger.
Who'd have thought I'd miss Martian boy?
#####################
And now onto poor Donna after she'd left again...
##########################
Niggle.
She couldn't wait for this weekend... X factor was starting again. Lovely. That was her Saturday nights sorted for a few weeks... X factor, feet up in front of the telly, Pringles in one hand and a nice Bacardi Breezer in the other... Then up and get ready for a night out with the girls down Blazers, a kebab on the way home and a lie in on Sunday, listening to Mum moan about not helping around the house and not doing anything with her life. What did she think temping was? Easy? ‘Cos it bloody wasn't. She needed her Saturday nights with the girls. Plus Big Brother had been a right letdown this year, and X Factor was going to be her only other bright spot, watching all those losers trying to make something of their lives. Half of them looked like they came from outer space...
Oh, bugger. There it was again.
The niggle.
The feeling, somewhere in the back of her head, of something just out of reach she couldn't touch.
She'd started to get it at the oddest times. When she saw that bloody great spider run across the carpet yesterday. When she watched that Poirot bloke on telly. When she heard Star Trekkin' at Shaz's party the other weekend. Once it happened when she'd seen a blue front door she'd passed, and another time, bizarrely when she'd seen that skinny bloke from Pulp... God knows why, ‘cos she certainly didn't fancy him, that was for sure, all skin and bones. And he was a speccy four-eyes as well, she’d never gone for blokes in specs.
It was sometimes worse when she went to visit Granddad on his hill, taking him his flask and a nice sausage sarnie. She'd look through his telescope at the blackness and although she saw nothing, she'd keep looking. The niggle kept her looking, like she was expecting something. She was a right silly cow, she knew. Just blackness up there, no matter what the papers said, they just talked a flipping load of rubbish. But that niggle, that bloody niggle... She'd turned to Granddad the other night, pulling his leg about wasting his time on his bloody hill, silly old sod, 'cos there was nothing up there. And he was crying. He'd tried to hide it, but she knew he was. She'd asked him why, but he'd said that the 'wind was making my eyes water sweetheart and you're right, I am a silly sod. Nothing up there. Not anymore.' Then he'd got up and told her he wanted to dance to one of his old songs he had going on his little portable stereo, so she'd got up and boogied with him. He'd soon perked up, bless him.
Soon be home, she thought as the clocked ticked round to 5pm... She flicked through the holiday brochure that Jane had left - she'd been bragging about her honeymoon in Italy. She couldn't see why anyone would want to marry that mouthy cow, she thought she was it, all...
The niggle. And there it was again, making her stop and stare at the picture. A picture of Pompeii, people walking in the ruins, the volcano in the background. Who would want to go to a place where so many people had died, had suffered? The blackness. The choking ash, the screaming. The poor children... Why did they go to the beach, why go to the beach, instead of running right to the hills?
She shook her head.
Stupid Jane was such a show-off; her boyfriend must be a right loser, taking her there for a honeymoon. She looked at the clock - 5pm. Lovely. Home time, in the car and a stop off on the way to pick up the weekend supplies - Breezers and Pringles.
She threw the brochure onto the desk, all thoughts of Italy gone. It had been a hell of a week, they’d had her non-stop typing. There were more important things for her to think about than stupid Jane's honeymoon and her boring job... Like sour cream and chive or barbeque beef - what flavour Pringles was she going to have this week?
God, she was so looking forward to this weekend. It was going to be brilliant.
Tuesday, 20 October 2009
And yet again, DW makes me cry...
And not just snffles, great big tears.
It's not a popular view, but I do love 'Silence in the Library', 'Forest of the Dead' and River Song. I know she is not liked by many for various reasons, but I like her so that's all that counts. Whatever, the end always ALWAYS makes me sniff, but watching tonight... oh dear. Big sobby wet tears. I know, silly stupid and rubbish, but can't help it. Lord knows what will happen at Christmas when Ten hangs up his lovely long coat and turns into Eleven, but I forsee many hankies and much wailing. Unless Rusty mucks up and P's me off with a Mary-Sue overload and then I may have to hate him.
Anyway, small bit written when tonights ep was first on...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rain
He tells her his name and the heavens open, rain falling down onto the parched orange earth beneath their feet as the twin suns shine brightly on the horizon. A confusion of colours arch across the sky and she repeats his name back to him, watching the water skim over his skin and drip from his eyelashes, his eyes desperate and ancient, wide and childlike. Such an impossible man, full of such contradictions, a wild, overblown festival with a silent, secret heart.
He smiles grimly at her. His name, not spoken for so very long, sounds wrong, so wrong when he says it, when he tells her it. But then she repeats it back to him, then he hears her voice and it's so very right it hurts. His smile broadens and he looks up into the rain, closing his eyes and feeling the warm water on his cold skin, feels it soaking through his shirt and suit and bones of him. It's been literally ages since he felt warm, felt this down to the very cells of his body.
She is so happy, standing with this strange, infuriating man, as she gets soaked with alien rain on an ancient, impossible planet. She looks at him and wonders for a moment; it looks like tears on his face, the rain. Like he's crying.
He looks back at her smiling at him.
He thinks of something he was once told.
'Your Song will soon end.'
He thinks about a tattered blue book full of memories.
He thinks about The Library.
It's not a popular view, but I do love 'Silence in the Library', 'Forest of the Dead' and River Song. I know she is not liked by many for various reasons, but I like her so that's all that counts. Whatever, the end always ALWAYS makes me sniff, but watching tonight... oh dear. Big sobby wet tears. I know, silly stupid and rubbish, but can't help it. Lord knows what will happen at Christmas when Ten hangs up his lovely long coat and turns into Eleven, but I forsee many hankies and much wailing. Unless Rusty mucks up and P's me off with a Mary-Sue overload and then I may have to hate him.
Anyway, small bit written when tonights ep was first on...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rain
He tells her his name and the heavens open, rain falling down onto the parched orange earth beneath their feet as the twin suns shine brightly on the horizon. A confusion of colours arch across the sky and she repeats his name back to him, watching the water skim over his skin and drip from his eyelashes, his eyes desperate and ancient, wide and childlike. Such an impossible man, full of such contradictions, a wild, overblown festival with a silent, secret heart.
He smiles grimly at her. His name, not spoken for so very long, sounds wrong, so wrong when he says it, when he tells her it. But then she repeats it back to him, then he hears her voice and it's so very right it hurts. His smile broadens and he looks up into the rain, closing his eyes and feeling the warm water on his cold skin, feels it soaking through his shirt and suit and bones of him. It's been literally ages since he felt warm, felt this down to the very cells of his body.
She is so happy, standing with this strange, infuriating man, as she gets soaked with alien rain on an ancient, impossible planet. She looks at him and wonders for a moment; it looks like tears on his face, the rain. Like he's crying.
He looks back at her smiling at him.
He thinks of something he was once told.
'Your Song will soon end.'
He thinks about a tattered blue book full of memories.
He thinks about The Library.
Saturday, 10 October 2009
As I don't seem to be able to post 'normal' things...
That being stuff about my life, here is some more of my bad, un-beta'd fic. I know, I should be blogging about my days and views I have on the news, music, the world in general, but I never really seem to be able to do that. My life generally is get up, go to work, hate my life, come home, eat dinner, hate my life, go to bed. Not very exciting reading. Therefore, you're just getting fic again. If anything changes or my mood lifts, I'll see what I can do opinions wise.
Anyways, fic. Two short bits, both a bit saucy so I suppose I should warn you. Although I'm sure you are all old enough. These were written for a LJ challenge in about five minutes flat for each of them, so please forgive any mistakes that I've not picked up and general rushy-type crappiness. So - away we go...
Carbon
It wasn't him, not really.
He looked the same, he sounded the same. Well, nearly the same. This him was cheekier. Sexier. More overt.
When he'd found her at UNIT she'd thought it was him, the 'original' him, at first glance. But then she'd noticed the slight differences in the stance, the walk... He'd then greeted her with a huge hug as normal, but had let his hand linger a little too long on her hip. She was convinced she was dealing with a sort of shape shifter until he'd explained he'd come back through some crack in time somewhere, that it had gone sour over there and he'd come back to the only other place he'd known before he'd been, in his words, 'dumped'.
She'd done some physical checks just to make sure and then, because she couldn't think of what else to do, she'd taken him home.
And somehow, they'd ended up here.
He was so free, everything wild and new and fascinating to him, the same and yet nothing like him. He'd held her hand during dinner, brushed her cheek, tucked her hair behind her ear during dessert and kissed her over coffee. She'd told herself it wasn't him, it was a carbon copy, not the original. A carbon copy with blurred edges, not quite the same, some rough and incomplete spots here and there, not the same... But then, then he'd traced down her neck with his mouth, all small kisses, flickering tongue and nipping teeth, his fingers joining in. Popping buttons open on her blouse, reaching in, stroking and teasing lace covered flesh and she didn't care, just didn't care. Because. Because she didn't. She wanted to have him, because he was so very good at this. Because she could.
He slid into her slowly, the weight of his body pinning her to the sofa and she arched upwards to meet him, wondering if this is what it would have been like with him. Would the rhythm have been the same, the feel of him inside her. Would he have felt like that, buried deeply in her? Would he have teased her nipples with his mouth, that never still, rarely silent mouth? And would his fingers have slid down and touched her like that as he'd picked up the pace, pushing faster, harder? She scraped her nails down his back as she climaxed and just as she came back to herself, she wondered if he would groan when he came like that, if he ever had come like that, sticky and hot inside of her.
She felt his breath against her neck as he shifted off her and she was sure she could feel the edges of him blur a little more, the copy degrading slightly. She moved away from him and reached for her clothes.
'I'm not him, you know. I have his memories, but I'm not him. I'm me.' He reached and stroked her back. 'I'm different.' He kissed her between the shoulder blades.
'I'm different. I'll be different. It'll be different.'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Punchline
'Now, this part, Martha... This part is very interesting.'
The Doctor pointed to a diagram in a huge, ancient book and continued. 'See. All these extra bits and bobs... How do they all fit in?'
Martha peered at the book. She had no idea.
'Most organs are smaller. I have two hearts, but they are smaller. And more efficient. Naturally. I'm really a bit of a medical marvel, even if I am getting on a bit. Fit as a fiddle, me.' He grinned widely at her. 'Anyway, the organs are smaller but work at a higher level - huge lung capacity but I have a respiratory bypass system - can go without air for a while. Not for long, but it's certainly handy...'
He went to turn the page, but Martha stopped him.
'Is everything smaller?'
'Well, as I said, most are.'
'Just internal organs? What about external?'
The Doctor looked at her in something akin to shocked surprise. 'Martha Jones, I am surprised at you!' he blustered 'I... I...' He shook his head. 'I am lost for words, really. And not very often that happens, to be honest, as you well know.'
'I'm just interested. Medical curiosity. What if something happens to you, how do I know if you look 'normal' or not?' Martha said as seriously as she could. She wasn't being very successful.
'I am perfectly normal, I'll have you know. And I'm glad you find it so funny.' He slammed the book shut. Martha began to protest and say she was sorry when he stopped her.
'As you are so interested, Doctor Jones let's have a look at a live specimen, shall we?' He looked around, as if searching for something, stopped and then ambled up to Martha, hands in pockets. 'Oh. That would be me, then.' He unbuttoned his jacket and shirt, shrugging them off and then pulling at his tee shirt, all still within centimeters of Martha.
'Doctor, what are you doing?' She backed away slightly, until she hit the end of one of the tables in the TARDIS library.
The Doctor was now unzipping his trousers as he moved forward again, this time pressing himself against her as he stepped from his clothes, completely naked.
'Enough studying of books, doctor Jones; Time for a practical... Examination.' He slid a hand around her waist and pulled her to him, kissing her soundly. 'It's exam time. Let's see if you and I pass...'
He soon had her as naked as he was and sitting on the library table as he kissed down her body, making, he said, 'a through examination of her for his records.' The fact that his examination included liberal use of his tongue in various areas did not upset Martha one bit and she gave him a 'A-', only deducting points for not paying equal attention to her left breast as he had to her right.
He now stood between her open thighs as she kissed down his chest, charting the muscles of his back with her fingers. She was orally examining his nipples when she reached down to stroke him and stopped as she took him in her hand.
'Ahh.'
'Martha?'
She bit her lip, trying not to laugh. So it was external organs as well. Oh dear. What was she going to say to him? 'Nothing...'
'What is it about that tone of voice and that face that makes me not believe you?' He kissed her forehead.
'No really. Nothing. It really is...' She stroked him 'Nothing.' Oh, God. This was not going well, she thought.
'Good.' He smiled at her, a smug smile that seemed quite out of place in the circumstances. 'Because, my dear and lovely Martha Jones, I have a surprise for you.'
He suddenly pulled her to the edge of the table, pushing her thighs open wider and guided himself into her, thrusting hard.
Martha's eyes widened and she gasped. He was filling her completely, feeling huge and hard inside her, hitting just the right spot that made her shiver. He withdrew from her all the way and thrust again, making Martha groan with pleasure and he filled her again. She grasped his shoulders and looked at him. The Doctor grinned at her one of his hugest, most self-satisfied grins.
'So, Martha Jones, what have we learned today?' He thrust back into her. 'That Time Lords have some smaller, but superior functioning, organs.' Thrust. 'And of course, being a Time Lord I have one constant advantage.' He thrust once more and bent to nibble Martha's earlobe.
'What's that?' Martha squeaked breathlessly.
He moved his lips from her earlobe to whisper low to her.
'It's bigger on the inside.'
Anyways, fic. Two short bits, both a bit saucy so I suppose I should warn you. Although I'm sure you are all old enough. These were written for a LJ challenge in about five minutes flat for each of them, so please forgive any mistakes that I've not picked up and general rushy-type crappiness. So - away we go...
Carbon
It wasn't him, not really.
He looked the same, he sounded the same. Well, nearly the same. This him was cheekier. Sexier. More overt.
When he'd found her at UNIT she'd thought it was him, the 'original' him, at first glance. But then she'd noticed the slight differences in the stance, the walk... He'd then greeted her with a huge hug as normal, but had let his hand linger a little too long on her hip. She was convinced she was dealing with a sort of shape shifter until he'd explained he'd come back through some crack in time somewhere, that it had gone sour over there and he'd come back to the only other place he'd known before he'd been, in his words, 'dumped'.
She'd done some physical checks just to make sure and then, because she couldn't think of what else to do, she'd taken him home.
And somehow, they'd ended up here.
He was so free, everything wild and new and fascinating to him, the same and yet nothing like him. He'd held her hand during dinner, brushed her cheek, tucked her hair behind her ear during dessert and kissed her over coffee. She'd told herself it wasn't him, it was a carbon copy, not the original. A carbon copy with blurred edges, not quite the same, some rough and incomplete spots here and there, not the same... But then, then he'd traced down her neck with his mouth, all small kisses, flickering tongue and nipping teeth, his fingers joining in. Popping buttons open on her blouse, reaching in, stroking and teasing lace covered flesh and she didn't care, just didn't care. Because. Because she didn't. She wanted to have him, because he was so very good at this. Because she could.
He slid into her slowly, the weight of his body pinning her to the sofa and she arched upwards to meet him, wondering if this is what it would have been like with him. Would the rhythm have been the same, the feel of him inside her. Would he have felt like that, buried deeply in her? Would he have teased her nipples with his mouth, that never still, rarely silent mouth? And would his fingers have slid down and touched her like that as he'd picked up the pace, pushing faster, harder? She scraped her nails down his back as she climaxed and just as she came back to herself, she wondered if he would groan when he came like that, if he ever had come like that, sticky and hot inside of her.
She felt his breath against her neck as he shifted off her and she was sure she could feel the edges of him blur a little more, the copy degrading slightly. She moved away from him and reached for her clothes.
'I'm not him, you know. I have his memories, but I'm not him. I'm me.' He reached and stroked her back. 'I'm different.' He kissed her between the shoulder blades.
'I'm different. I'll be different. It'll be different.'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Punchline
'Now, this part, Martha... This part is very interesting.'
The Doctor pointed to a diagram in a huge, ancient book and continued. 'See. All these extra bits and bobs... How do they all fit in?'
Martha peered at the book. She had no idea.
'Most organs are smaller. I have two hearts, but they are smaller. And more efficient. Naturally. I'm really a bit of a medical marvel, even if I am getting on a bit. Fit as a fiddle, me.' He grinned widely at her. 'Anyway, the organs are smaller but work at a higher level - huge lung capacity but I have a respiratory bypass system - can go without air for a while. Not for long, but it's certainly handy...'
He went to turn the page, but Martha stopped him.
'Is everything smaller?'
'Well, as I said, most are.'
'Just internal organs? What about external?'
The Doctor looked at her in something akin to shocked surprise. 'Martha Jones, I am surprised at you!' he blustered 'I... I...' He shook his head. 'I am lost for words, really. And not very often that happens, to be honest, as you well know.'
'I'm just interested. Medical curiosity. What if something happens to you, how do I know if you look 'normal' or not?' Martha said as seriously as she could. She wasn't being very successful.
'I am perfectly normal, I'll have you know. And I'm glad you find it so funny.' He slammed the book shut. Martha began to protest and say she was sorry when he stopped her.
'As you are so interested, Doctor Jones let's have a look at a live specimen, shall we?' He looked around, as if searching for something, stopped and then ambled up to Martha, hands in pockets. 'Oh. That would be me, then.' He unbuttoned his jacket and shirt, shrugging them off and then pulling at his tee shirt, all still within centimeters of Martha.
'Doctor, what are you doing?' She backed away slightly, until she hit the end of one of the tables in the TARDIS library.
The Doctor was now unzipping his trousers as he moved forward again, this time pressing himself against her as he stepped from his clothes, completely naked.
'Enough studying of books, doctor Jones; Time for a practical... Examination.' He slid a hand around her waist and pulled her to him, kissing her soundly. 'It's exam time. Let's see if you and I pass...'
He soon had her as naked as he was and sitting on the library table as he kissed down her body, making, he said, 'a through examination of her for his records.' The fact that his examination included liberal use of his tongue in various areas did not upset Martha one bit and she gave him a 'A-', only deducting points for not paying equal attention to her left breast as he had to her right.
He now stood between her open thighs as she kissed down his chest, charting the muscles of his back with her fingers. She was orally examining his nipples when she reached down to stroke him and stopped as she took him in her hand.
'Ahh.'
'Martha?'
She bit her lip, trying not to laugh. So it was external organs as well. Oh dear. What was she going to say to him? 'Nothing...'
'What is it about that tone of voice and that face that makes me not believe you?' He kissed her forehead.
'No really. Nothing. It really is...' She stroked him 'Nothing.' Oh, God. This was not going well, she thought.
'Good.' He smiled at her, a smug smile that seemed quite out of place in the circumstances. 'Because, my dear and lovely Martha Jones, I have a surprise for you.'
He suddenly pulled her to the edge of the table, pushing her thighs open wider and guided himself into her, thrusting hard.
Martha's eyes widened and she gasped. He was filling her completely, feeling huge and hard inside her, hitting just the right spot that made her shiver. He withdrew from her all the way and thrust again, making Martha groan with pleasure and he filled her again. She grasped his shoulders and looked at him. The Doctor grinned at her one of his hugest, most self-satisfied grins.
'So, Martha Jones, what have we learned today?' He thrust back into her. 'That Time Lords have some smaller, but superior functioning, organs.' Thrust. 'And of course, being a Time Lord I have one constant advantage.' He thrust once more and bent to nibble Martha's earlobe.
'What's that?' Martha squeaked breathlessly.
He moved his lips from her earlobe to whisper low to her.
'It's bigger on the inside.'
Monday, 24 August 2009
Hot in more ways that one...
Bad night became bad day - god knows what I've picked up, but could hardly breathe last night and now have great cough and am contantly boiling. Bah! Why am I so prone to colds, I hate it!
To cheer me up, there have been some fetching pics of the lovely boy floating around from V festival - showing him with very gorgeous hair, an incredible hulk teeshirt and some rather 'interesting' shorts (well, I noticed they were interesting!) There was signs of someone else in the background of one, but we won't dwell. Anyways, here is one to drool over...
Very interesting....
;-)
To cheer me up, there have been some fetching pics of the lovely boy floating around from V festival - showing him with very gorgeous hair, an incredible hulk teeshirt and some rather 'interesting' shorts (well, I noticed they were interesting!) There was signs of someone else in the background of one, but we won't dwell. Anyways, here is one to drool over...
Very interesting....
;-)
Saturday, 22 August 2009
Fic again...
I'm posting more fic because I can. If anyone reads and is interested, there are a couple more stories further back, one a bit naughty, so read with care! This is fluffy though, so read without guilt!
Apart from the fic, not much else happening - I'm trying to gut out my flat as it got very messy with Becks not being well and he various problems, but it's slow going it's got so bad. I really needs a week solid of just cleaning and clearing and ripping up carpets, so it's not going to happen in a weekend! Anyways, should get back to the grind, so on with the fic...
##############
Everytime.
'So...' The Doctor fiddled with the steaming mug of tea in front of him, dumping spoon after spoon of sugar into it until he was seemingly satisfied and stirred vigorously. Wait for it, she thought. He'll tap his spoon twice on the side any moment. She was slightly disappointed when he kept stirring, slowing down until it he almost stopped.
'So...' she replied, cupping her hands around her own mug of tea — Lemon and no sugar.
It never used to be like this. she thought.
'I'm sorry, Sarah. About...'
She cut him off short. 'Like I said, he was only a stupid metal dog. He'd been broken for a while, anyway. I don't know why I was even carrying him around in the boot of the car - I mean, how ridiculous is that?'
She watched him finally stop stirring, and then, absent-mindedly tap the spoon on the side of the mug twice before placing it on the table. Better late than never, she thought.
'What? K9? Oh that.' He looked puzzled for a moment, but seemed to wave it away with his hand. 'I wasn't talking about him. I mean you're right -- he was only a lump of metal and I can... ' All at once he seemed to notice her face and changed tack. 'I can fully understand you must be upset.' He nodded absently, trying to look sincere.
'Liar,' she said. 'You don't understand at all.' She picked up his spoon and fiddled with it. 'So. What are you sorry for? Sorry for coming back? Sorry to see me again? Sorry I got old?'
He shook his head. 'You're not old.'
She smiled back at him, a small strained smile. 'Look at you. I look old enough to be your mother.'
'Naw. Not at all.'
'You're lying again.'
'No, I'm not. You may look older, but not old enough to be my mother. Sexy Auntie, maybe...' Her head snapped up to look at him as he grinned his most winning smile at her and winked.
'Stop it.'
'Stop what?' His head cocked to one side.
'You know very well. Don't play mind games with me, Doctor. I'm not some swooning twenty year old who is going to fall for all that boyish charm and all those intense gazes.'
'You used to like it when I looked at you.'
'And where did it get me? Dumped with no word. No word, no contact, not even to let me know you were OK. All whilst you'd moved on with no thought of me. Moved on to younger, blonder...'
He looked up at her sharply. 'It's not like that.'
'Well, no one seems to have told her.' She tossed the spoon on the table, wishing it would make a louder noise.
'She knows. She knows it's not forever. My forever, yours, hers — They are completely different.'
'She may think she knows. She may say she knows. She doesn't. She knows nothing. And how do I know? I know that because I told myself I knew all the same things a long time ago. And look what happened.'
He pushed the mug of tea across the table towards her. 'I never asked for anything from you. All I asked was if you wanted to come with me. You came with me. Your choice. I told you, I'm not going to apologise for that.'
'You didn't have to ask. You never did. Did you ever realise? Do you realise now? Or are you still pretending to be above it all? Still using 'I'm a Time Lord' as an excuse?'
'It's not an excuse -- it's...'
'It's a convenient cop out. I saw you in that school, Doctor. You were tempted. You were tempted by what he said. Tempted by the power to change everything, to have everything. To be a God. Would she have talked you out of it? Would she have told you the truth?'
He stared at her for a moment, mouth open as if to say something, then closed his eyes and sighed, running a hand through the back of his hair. 'I have no idea.' He leant back in his chair suddenly looking weary, both hands now behind his head as he looked up at the ceiling
She picked up his now cold mug of tea and her own, taking them out to the kitchen. A welcome break away from him.
A moment later, she heard his footsteps behind her.
'I'm sorry. Not for taking you with me. Not for all you saw. I'm sorry that I didn't let you know I was alive. Whatever you think of me, I never did mean to hurt you. It was for the best, Sarah. A clean break. I didn't know it would hurt so much.'
She felt a hand touch her back gently and then pull back.
'I wouldn't have hurt you knowingly. You must know that.'
She felt him step closer behind her and when he spoke, she could feel his breath on her hair.
'It's just... It's not an excuse. I am different. However you look at it -- I'm alien to you. I'm a nine hundred odd year old being who could possibly live for your 'forever'. This old body may look human, and God knows I've been hanging around with humans far too long, but I'm still a nine hundred year old man from a long gone planet.' His hand touched her waist as he stepped closer. 'There is no one else, Sarah. They're all gone.' His voice was quiet and soft in her ear. 'All gone. So now I don't try and protect myself like I used to. There is no one else, Sarah.' His arm slipped around her. 'They're all gone.'
She stood very still, not moving, hardly breathing. 'You did hurt me.'
'I didn't think...'
'You never did.'
She gripped the edge of the sink. 'You never did think. You never thought how I felt. You must have known. You had to have known what I felt about you. For you.'
'Which is part of the reason I left. The whole reason I didn't come back. You must know that now.'
He sounded sad, alone. So lonely. She knew what that felt like, and she hated herself for feeling it. She twisted around to face him, his oh so different face as his hand dropped to lightly rest on her hip.
'You are prettier this time round, you know.' She touched his cheek. 'Although you've still got ridiculously big eyes. And teeth. I think I preferred them blue though...'
'My teeth?'
She snorted a laugh. 'Your eyes. Although I wouldn't put it past you to have blue teeth, you know.'
His eyes twinkled as he visibly brightened, smiling at her. 'I'll keep it in mind. Although you know I have no control how things turn out. I'm still waiting to be ginger. Ooh, how good would that look, though? Ginger with blue teeth!'
'It would look terrible and you know it'
'And I'd stand out in a crowd. Being ginger and all.'
He smiled at her again, wide and disarming. She couldn't deny that she liked what she saw in front of her. And the way he talked… When he talked - whether he made her angry or made her laugh - she still felt that same tug. He may look completely different and in many ways act differently, but when they talked, when they laughed, it was almost the same, and she could feel herself being pulled back.
'So...Do you forgive me? His voice was low as he spoke, but he still had that smile on his face.
'I told you, you can't come on to me with all that boyish charm. I've been there and done that. You'll be offering me a jelly baby next.'
'I would if I thought it would help. And, of course, if I had one, which I don't. Not sure I like them any more anyway.'
She shook her head, smiling at him. But when he raised his hand to her face and touched her cheek, she froze for a moment, battling the urge to press her cheek into the warm palm as his fingers lightly stroked her skin.
'You do look the same, you know.'
She went to tell him not to be silly, but he stopped her.
'No, you do. Whatever you were doing without me, Sarah Jane Smith, it's agreed with you.'
He leant in towards her and kissed her cheek, pulling back to give her that big smile she didn't want to get used to. Her hand reached up to cover his, still caressing her face when he moved forward again and pressed his mouth to hers, slow and gentle at first, but growing more insistent as she didn't back away.
And she didn't back away. Instead, she pressed forward, closing her eyes and returning the kiss. He tasted of a thousand memories, of all the times she'd missed him and wished him back with her, of all the times she'd wanted him there. His hand moved to neck, pulling her closer as hers trailed to his hair, her fingers twisting around the short strands.
She felt him press forward, all warm and solid, his mouth sliding against hers and it felt so good to have someone close to her, someone who knew all the things she could never tell anyone else, all the secrets that no one else would believe or understand. She stood, back pressed up against the edge of the sink behind her, the Doctor kissing her, the Doctor's tongue flicking out to touch hers as they moved against each other...the Doctor...
She pulled her mouth from his and stared at him in shock. His hair was in disarray, his mouth slightly damp and open, eyes wide and staring at her almost in as much shock as her.
'No.' She ducked away from him and retreated to the other side of the kitchen. 'What the hell was that about?'
He stood with his back still towards her, one hand gripping the sink edge, the other running through his hair.
'Doctor. Did you hear me? What was that all about? Pity? Because if it was, I don't want your pity. I don't want you to...'
'I'm sorry.' His head dropped.
'Sorry? Oh right -- you're sorry.' She shook her head, sitting heavily on the kitchen chair. 'You're sorry you left. Sorry you came back. Sorry you are alone. Sorry you kissed me...'
He turned to face her and stood square, hands stuffed into his pockets. 'You kissed me as well.'
'Well, how very adult of you to point that out. Nine hundred years old and still relying on the 'but they did it as well' argument.'
'But you did.'
She stared at him for a moment, then shook her head, closing her eyes and sighing. 'It doesn't matter, Doctor. Why are you doing this? Why are you coming here, talking to me this way...kissing me? You've had nearly thirty years to say sorry. Was that my consolation prize? A way to make you feel better?'
He leant back against the worktop, hands still in his pockets, and looked down at his feet, scuffing one against the floortile. He grew silent again.
She leant back in her chair. 'I'm sorry too. I'm sorry that no one is left. I'm sorry that you feel alone, and I'm sorry, so very sorry, if you're hurting; I would never want at for you. But I refuse point blank to be your salve to soothe your loneliness or bolster your ego or whatever is going on here.' She rose to her feet and went to stand by him.
'Doctor. Doctor, look at me. Please.' He raised his head as she touched him arm, his eyes dark and sad. 'I forgive you. Whatever you're sorry for, I forgive you. I'm not going to pretend it didn't hurt, and I'm still unsure as to why you're here, but if you want me to forgive you, I will. If it will make you feel better, I will. But tell me why. Tell me what is going on in that head of yours. You can't have meant that kiss as it...'
He looked away, ducking his head again. 'I always thought you were more intelligent than that, Sarah.'
'What?'
He looked at her, opened his mouth to speak, snapped it shut, and strode from the room, hands stuffed further down into his pockets.
She followed him out, to find him standing in the middle of the room, turning on the spot and looking around.
'What did you say?'
'I said very little, as I recall. You were the one doing all the talking.' He stopped turning and looked at her. 'Coat?'
'Leaving again?' She couldn't help the sarcastic tone. 'Consistent as always, I see.'
His eyes darkened and he stepped forward, staring her in the eye. She stood her ground, looking right back at him.
'You seem to think this is easy for me. That I cast you off like some old clothes and moved on. But it has to be like that. You said you understood, that you knew it wasn't forever. You say that I hurt you? Leaving hurt me too.' His eyes, the look that had been so intense suddenly dulled and he blinked, his body sagging slightly. Turning, he moved to the sofa and sank down, sprawling, head dropping back against the cushions.
'You knew I couldn't take you with me when I was called back. It wasn't possible back then, it just wasn't and you were safer here. And maybe...maybe, I could have come back.' He scrubbed a hand over his face. 'But I thought...you were safe. You were home.' Suddenly he leant forward, resting his arms on his legs, looking at the floor. 'You were safe...'
Slowly, she sat down next to him on the sofa, leaning forward to mirror his posture.
'And apart from that -- I didn't know what had happened to you. What if you had met someone' He hesitated. 'Someone and moved on? You didn't need me breezing back into your life and trying to drag you off. I didn't want you to have to make that choice.' His head dropped into his hands.
She reached over and laid her hand flat on his back, rubbing slowly and soothingly. 'I might have liked the opportunity to make that choice.'
He turned and looked at her. 'But you would have come. Whatever, you would have come. Tell me I'm wrong.'
'You're wrong.'
He smiled ruefully. 'Ah. Right. Yes. Of course.' He took her hand. 'Now who's lying'
She gazed at their hands, fingers entwined, and dipped her head, trying to keep a straight face. 'OK. Maybe I would have. But I would have come for all the right reasons.'
Her head rose and she found him looking at her 'So,' she began, 'are you going to tell me what was that all about?'
'That...that was exactly what it felt like. It was precisely everything you said it was -- guilt, loneliness, a balm, a need, lov… ' He trailed off. 'A kiss for someone I care about a great deal. Always have, always did, always will.' He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it gently, before covering it with his other hand and rubbing slowly as he smiled at her. 'Maybe I'm just getting old and sentimental.'
'It happens to us all.'
They grinned at each other, and suddenly he gathered her into his arms, hugging her tightly and pressing his face against her neck. She wrapped her arms around him in return, closing her eyes and breathing him in, holding him as close as she could.
She felt him murmur against her, 'Forgive me?'
She stroked his hair, and whispered in his ear, 'I already have.'
He gave her one last squeeze and let her go, rising from the sofa to straighten his rumpled jacket and clearing his throat.
'Right. I best be going. You know how it is -- busy busy busy...and I'm sure you have a stellar article to write about our friend Mr Finch and his methods. Although how you're going to explain the whole bat things blown up by oil used to fry chips is beyond me. Coat?'
She stood as well, walking towards the hall. 'Over the banister, where you threw it.' She handed it to him as he followed her out and watched as he shrugged it on before once more shoving his hands into his trouser pockets.
'And don't worry about the article. I'm a journalist. I'm good at fudging the facts. What I'm more worried about is what I'm going to tell the insurance company about the damage to my car. Driving it through the front door of a school may not go down too well'
That earned her an extra wide grin. 'Ohhh, don't worry about that. Just tell them you were saving the world. Again. Par for the course, really. You should get it written into all of your policies.'
They stood for a moment looking at each other. She was just about to say goodbye when he reached for the door.
'Right, I'm off. I've got the TARDIS in the local park at the moment. Moved her out of the school just in case; you know how things get. Why don't you pop over and say hello to the old girl tomorrow? Got a few things to see to; bit of fine tuning. She's getting old and sentimental as well. You remember that noise she used to make when she was entering the vortex? You remember that kind of 'Wooooooooo' noise?' He flapped his hands about a bit while making a high pitched noise, so that she couldn't help laughing. He stopped and looked at her a puzzled look on his face.
'What?'
'Oh, Doctor. Nothing... just...nothing.' She smiled indulgently at him and shook her head.
He nodded as if that was enough and walked out of the door. 'Right, so I'll keep an eye out for you tomorrow. I'll even make you a cuppa. Not sure if I've got any lemon in though. I'll have to check...I could always...'
'Anything. Anything will be fine, really.'
'Right. Yes. Fine.' He nodded absently before turning back to her. 'You will come tomorrow, won't you?'
'Of course I will.'
He nodded once more before turning again to walk up the path, pausing long enough to open the gate and close it behind him.
He walked backwards, still talking. 'Tomorrow. Everything stops for tea!'
He gave her one last grin, turned, and was off, striding down the road, coat billowing behind him, a tuneless whistle floating back on the breeze to her ears.
She watched until he was out of sight, completely out of sight, and then slowly… gently… closed the door.
Apart from the fic, not much else happening - I'm trying to gut out my flat as it got very messy with Becks not being well and he various problems, but it's slow going it's got so bad. I really needs a week solid of just cleaning and clearing and ripping up carpets, so it's not going to happen in a weekend! Anyways, should get back to the grind, so on with the fic...
##############
Everytime.
'So...' The Doctor fiddled with the steaming mug of tea in front of him, dumping spoon after spoon of sugar into it until he was seemingly satisfied and stirred vigorously. Wait for it, she thought. He'll tap his spoon twice on the side any moment. She was slightly disappointed when he kept stirring, slowing down until it he almost stopped.
'So...' she replied, cupping her hands around her own mug of tea — Lemon and no sugar.
It never used to be like this. she thought.
'I'm sorry, Sarah. About...'
She cut him off short. 'Like I said, he was only a stupid metal dog. He'd been broken for a while, anyway. I don't know why I was even carrying him around in the boot of the car - I mean, how ridiculous is that?'
She watched him finally stop stirring, and then, absent-mindedly tap the spoon on the side of the mug twice before placing it on the table. Better late than never, she thought.
'What? K9? Oh that.' He looked puzzled for a moment, but seemed to wave it away with his hand. 'I wasn't talking about him. I mean you're right -- he was only a lump of metal and I can... ' All at once he seemed to notice her face and changed tack. 'I can fully understand you must be upset.' He nodded absently, trying to look sincere.
'Liar,' she said. 'You don't understand at all.' She picked up his spoon and fiddled with it. 'So. What are you sorry for? Sorry for coming back? Sorry to see me again? Sorry I got old?'
He shook his head. 'You're not old.'
She smiled back at him, a small strained smile. 'Look at you. I look old enough to be your mother.'
'Naw. Not at all.'
'You're lying again.'
'No, I'm not. You may look older, but not old enough to be my mother. Sexy Auntie, maybe...' Her head snapped up to look at him as he grinned his most winning smile at her and winked.
'Stop it.'
'Stop what?' His head cocked to one side.
'You know very well. Don't play mind games with me, Doctor. I'm not some swooning twenty year old who is going to fall for all that boyish charm and all those intense gazes.'
'You used to like it when I looked at you.'
'And where did it get me? Dumped with no word. No word, no contact, not even to let me know you were OK. All whilst you'd moved on with no thought of me. Moved on to younger, blonder...'
He looked up at her sharply. 'It's not like that.'
'Well, no one seems to have told her.' She tossed the spoon on the table, wishing it would make a louder noise.
'She knows. She knows it's not forever. My forever, yours, hers — They are completely different.'
'She may think she knows. She may say she knows. She doesn't. She knows nothing. And how do I know? I know that because I told myself I knew all the same things a long time ago. And look what happened.'
He pushed the mug of tea across the table towards her. 'I never asked for anything from you. All I asked was if you wanted to come with me. You came with me. Your choice. I told you, I'm not going to apologise for that.'
'You didn't have to ask. You never did. Did you ever realise? Do you realise now? Or are you still pretending to be above it all? Still using 'I'm a Time Lord' as an excuse?'
'It's not an excuse -- it's...'
'It's a convenient cop out. I saw you in that school, Doctor. You were tempted. You were tempted by what he said. Tempted by the power to change everything, to have everything. To be a God. Would she have talked you out of it? Would she have told you the truth?'
He stared at her for a moment, mouth open as if to say something, then closed his eyes and sighed, running a hand through the back of his hair. 'I have no idea.' He leant back in his chair suddenly looking weary, both hands now behind his head as he looked up at the ceiling
She picked up his now cold mug of tea and her own, taking them out to the kitchen. A welcome break away from him.
A moment later, she heard his footsteps behind her.
'I'm sorry. Not for taking you with me. Not for all you saw. I'm sorry that I didn't let you know I was alive. Whatever you think of me, I never did mean to hurt you. It was for the best, Sarah. A clean break. I didn't know it would hurt so much.'
She felt a hand touch her back gently and then pull back.
'I wouldn't have hurt you knowingly. You must know that.'
She felt him step closer behind her and when he spoke, she could feel his breath on her hair.
'It's just... It's not an excuse. I am different. However you look at it -- I'm alien to you. I'm a nine hundred odd year old being who could possibly live for your 'forever'. This old body may look human, and God knows I've been hanging around with humans far too long, but I'm still a nine hundred year old man from a long gone planet.' His hand touched her waist as he stepped closer. 'There is no one else, Sarah. They're all gone.' His voice was quiet and soft in her ear. 'All gone. So now I don't try and protect myself like I used to. There is no one else, Sarah.' His arm slipped around her. 'They're all gone.'
She stood very still, not moving, hardly breathing. 'You did hurt me.'
'I didn't think...'
'You never did.'
She gripped the edge of the sink. 'You never did think. You never thought how I felt. You must have known. You had to have known what I felt about you. For you.'
'Which is part of the reason I left. The whole reason I didn't come back. You must know that now.'
He sounded sad, alone. So lonely. She knew what that felt like, and she hated herself for feeling it. She twisted around to face him, his oh so different face as his hand dropped to lightly rest on her hip.
'You are prettier this time round, you know.' She touched his cheek. 'Although you've still got ridiculously big eyes. And teeth. I think I preferred them blue though...'
'My teeth?'
She snorted a laugh. 'Your eyes. Although I wouldn't put it past you to have blue teeth, you know.'
His eyes twinkled as he visibly brightened, smiling at her. 'I'll keep it in mind. Although you know I have no control how things turn out. I'm still waiting to be ginger. Ooh, how good would that look, though? Ginger with blue teeth!'
'It would look terrible and you know it'
'And I'd stand out in a crowd. Being ginger and all.'
He smiled at her again, wide and disarming. She couldn't deny that she liked what she saw in front of her. And the way he talked… When he talked - whether he made her angry or made her laugh - she still felt that same tug. He may look completely different and in many ways act differently, but when they talked, when they laughed, it was almost the same, and she could feel herself being pulled back.
'So...Do you forgive me? His voice was low as he spoke, but he still had that smile on his face.
'I told you, you can't come on to me with all that boyish charm. I've been there and done that. You'll be offering me a jelly baby next.'
'I would if I thought it would help. And, of course, if I had one, which I don't. Not sure I like them any more anyway.'
She shook her head, smiling at him. But when he raised his hand to her face and touched her cheek, she froze for a moment, battling the urge to press her cheek into the warm palm as his fingers lightly stroked her skin.
'You do look the same, you know.'
She went to tell him not to be silly, but he stopped her.
'No, you do. Whatever you were doing without me, Sarah Jane Smith, it's agreed with you.'
He leant in towards her and kissed her cheek, pulling back to give her that big smile she didn't want to get used to. Her hand reached up to cover his, still caressing her face when he moved forward again and pressed his mouth to hers, slow and gentle at first, but growing more insistent as she didn't back away.
And she didn't back away. Instead, she pressed forward, closing her eyes and returning the kiss. He tasted of a thousand memories, of all the times she'd missed him and wished him back with her, of all the times she'd wanted him there. His hand moved to neck, pulling her closer as hers trailed to his hair, her fingers twisting around the short strands.
She felt him press forward, all warm and solid, his mouth sliding against hers and it felt so good to have someone close to her, someone who knew all the things she could never tell anyone else, all the secrets that no one else would believe or understand. She stood, back pressed up against the edge of the sink behind her, the Doctor kissing her, the Doctor's tongue flicking out to touch hers as they moved against each other...the Doctor...
She pulled her mouth from his and stared at him in shock. His hair was in disarray, his mouth slightly damp and open, eyes wide and staring at her almost in as much shock as her.
'No.' She ducked away from him and retreated to the other side of the kitchen. 'What the hell was that about?'
He stood with his back still towards her, one hand gripping the sink edge, the other running through his hair.
'Doctor. Did you hear me? What was that all about? Pity? Because if it was, I don't want your pity. I don't want you to...'
'I'm sorry.' His head dropped.
'Sorry? Oh right -- you're sorry.' She shook her head, sitting heavily on the kitchen chair. 'You're sorry you left. Sorry you came back. Sorry you are alone. Sorry you kissed me...'
He turned to face her and stood square, hands stuffed into his pockets. 'You kissed me as well.'
'Well, how very adult of you to point that out. Nine hundred years old and still relying on the 'but they did it as well' argument.'
'But you did.'
She stared at him for a moment, then shook her head, closing her eyes and sighing. 'It doesn't matter, Doctor. Why are you doing this? Why are you coming here, talking to me this way...kissing me? You've had nearly thirty years to say sorry. Was that my consolation prize? A way to make you feel better?'
He leant back against the worktop, hands still in his pockets, and looked down at his feet, scuffing one against the floortile. He grew silent again.
She leant back in her chair. 'I'm sorry too. I'm sorry that no one is left. I'm sorry that you feel alone, and I'm sorry, so very sorry, if you're hurting; I would never want at for you. But I refuse point blank to be your salve to soothe your loneliness or bolster your ego or whatever is going on here.' She rose to her feet and went to stand by him.
'Doctor. Doctor, look at me. Please.' He raised his head as she touched him arm, his eyes dark and sad. 'I forgive you. Whatever you're sorry for, I forgive you. I'm not going to pretend it didn't hurt, and I'm still unsure as to why you're here, but if you want me to forgive you, I will. If it will make you feel better, I will. But tell me why. Tell me what is going on in that head of yours. You can't have meant that kiss as it...'
He looked away, ducking his head again. 'I always thought you were more intelligent than that, Sarah.'
'What?'
He looked at her, opened his mouth to speak, snapped it shut, and strode from the room, hands stuffed further down into his pockets.
She followed him out, to find him standing in the middle of the room, turning on the spot and looking around.
'What did you say?'
'I said very little, as I recall. You were the one doing all the talking.' He stopped turning and looked at her. 'Coat?'
'Leaving again?' She couldn't help the sarcastic tone. 'Consistent as always, I see.'
His eyes darkened and he stepped forward, staring her in the eye. She stood her ground, looking right back at him.
'You seem to think this is easy for me. That I cast you off like some old clothes and moved on. But it has to be like that. You said you understood, that you knew it wasn't forever. You say that I hurt you? Leaving hurt me too.' His eyes, the look that had been so intense suddenly dulled and he blinked, his body sagging slightly. Turning, he moved to the sofa and sank down, sprawling, head dropping back against the cushions.
'You knew I couldn't take you with me when I was called back. It wasn't possible back then, it just wasn't and you were safer here. And maybe...maybe, I could have come back.' He scrubbed a hand over his face. 'But I thought...you were safe. You were home.' Suddenly he leant forward, resting his arms on his legs, looking at the floor. 'You were safe...'
Slowly, she sat down next to him on the sofa, leaning forward to mirror his posture.
'And apart from that -- I didn't know what had happened to you. What if you had met someone' He hesitated. 'Someone and moved on? You didn't need me breezing back into your life and trying to drag you off. I didn't want you to have to make that choice.' His head dropped into his hands.
She reached over and laid her hand flat on his back, rubbing slowly and soothingly. 'I might have liked the opportunity to make that choice.'
He turned and looked at her. 'But you would have come. Whatever, you would have come. Tell me I'm wrong.'
'You're wrong.'
He smiled ruefully. 'Ah. Right. Yes. Of course.' He took her hand. 'Now who's lying'
She gazed at their hands, fingers entwined, and dipped her head, trying to keep a straight face. 'OK. Maybe I would have. But I would have come for all the right reasons.'
Her head rose and she found him looking at her 'So,' she began, 'are you going to tell me what was that all about?'
'That...that was exactly what it felt like. It was precisely everything you said it was -- guilt, loneliness, a balm, a need, lov… ' He trailed off. 'A kiss for someone I care about a great deal. Always have, always did, always will.' He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it gently, before covering it with his other hand and rubbing slowly as he smiled at her. 'Maybe I'm just getting old and sentimental.'
'It happens to us all.'
They grinned at each other, and suddenly he gathered her into his arms, hugging her tightly and pressing his face against her neck. She wrapped her arms around him in return, closing her eyes and breathing him in, holding him as close as she could.
She felt him murmur against her, 'Forgive me?'
She stroked his hair, and whispered in his ear, 'I already have.'
He gave her one last squeeze and let her go, rising from the sofa to straighten his rumpled jacket and clearing his throat.
'Right. I best be going. You know how it is -- busy busy busy...and I'm sure you have a stellar article to write about our friend Mr Finch and his methods. Although how you're going to explain the whole bat things blown up by oil used to fry chips is beyond me. Coat?'
She stood as well, walking towards the hall. 'Over the banister, where you threw it.' She handed it to him as he followed her out and watched as he shrugged it on before once more shoving his hands into his trouser pockets.
'And don't worry about the article. I'm a journalist. I'm good at fudging the facts. What I'm more worried about is what I'm going to tell the insurance company about the damage to my car. Driving it through the front door of a school may not go down too well'
That earned her an extra wide grin. 'Ohhh, don't worry about that. Just tell them you were saving the world. Again. Par for the course, really. You should get it written into all of your policies.'
They stood for a moment looking at each other. She was just about to say goodbye when he reached for the door.
'Right, I'm off. I've got the TARDIS in the local park at the moment. Moved her out of the school just in case; you know how things get. Why don't you pop over and say hello to the old girl tomorrow? Got a few things to see to; bit of fine tuning. She's getting old and sentimental as well. You remember that noise she used to make when she was entering the vortex? You remember that kind of 'Wooooooooo' noise?' He flapped his hands about a bit while making a high pitched noise, so that she couldn't help laughing. He stopped and looked at her a puzzled look on his face.
'What?'
'Oh, Doctor. Nothing... just...nothing.' She smiled indulgently at him and shook her head.
He nodded as if that was enough and walked out of the door. 'Right, so I'll keep an eye out for you tomorrow. I'll even make you a cuppa. Not sure if I've got any lemon in though. I'll have to check...I could always...'
'Anything. Anything will be fine, really.'
'Right. Yes. Fine.' He nodded absently before turning back to her. 'You will come tomorrow, won't you?'
'Of course I will.'
He nodded once more before turning again to walk up the path, pausing long enough to open the gate and close it behind him.
He walked backwards, still talking. 'Tomorrow. Everything stops for tea!'
He gave her one last grin, turned, and was off, striding down the road, coat billowing behind him, a tuneless whistle floating back on the breeze to her ears.
She watched until he was out of sight, completely out of sight, and then slowly… gently… closed the door.
Friday, 21 August 2009
Night night.
The flat is very quiet now. My lovely boy, Beckett has been gone two weeks and I still expect to see him in the morning, still find myself saying 'Hello boy' when I come in the door, and still find myself wandering down the pet section in the supermarket, thinking I've forgotten something.
I didn't quite think it would hit me so very hard, but it has. It's made me feel very down, and I feel like I've stepped back to a very black time I had 2 or 3 years ago, a time that I don't want to go through again. So I'm trying to stay positive and jolly myself up, but it's a bit.. hard.
I'm not going to have another pet - it's not fair as I work and live in a high rise. But I had Becks for so long, it feels strange. I've never EVER not had a cat or dog. We always had animals of some kind, always a dog and cat, but also various assorted birds, fish, chickens, ducks... and a horse too at one point, so it just feels so odd.
A picture from a couple of years ago, before he was ill and still a big ball of white fur, sitting on his chair like he owned the flat. Which he did, of course.
Night night Becks. I'm sorry and I miss your sillylittle meowing face, my beautiful boy.
I didn't quite think it would hit me so very hard, but it has. It's made me feel very down, and I feel like I've stepped back to a very black time I had 2 or 3 years ago, a time that I don't want to go through again. So I'm trying to stay positive and jolly myself up, but it's a bit.. hard.
I'm not going to have another pet - it's not fair as I work and live in a high rise. But I had Becks for so long, it feels strange. I've never EVER not had a cat or dog. We always had animals of some kind, always a dog and cat, but also various assorted birds, fish, chickens, ducks... and a horse too at one point, so it just feels so odd.
A picture from a couple of years ago, before he was ill and still a big ball of white fur, sitting on his chair like he owned the flat. Which he did, of course.
Night night Becks. I'm sorry and I miss your sillylittle meowing face, my beautiful boy.
Wednesday, 22 July 2009
more fic...
You get more, you can't run and hide...
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Turning Night.
'Martha...'
She looked over at him in the first glimmers of the long awaited dawn, his carefully tousled hair, his dark dark eyes, his red lips, his mouth forming that hidden smile of his.
'I know.' She nodded.
'I'm sorry.'
'Why? I didn't expect anything of you, you know. I never expected a happy ever after. You're not human and I'm not a silly girl. I'm not an idiot.'
'I never said you were.'
'But you thought it.'
He looked away from her.
'I wanted nothing from you, Doctor. Just to be noticed, just to know that you did care about me in some kind of way...'
He looked at her again 'Martha, I told you...'
'No. Not just like that. I won't lie and say I wouldn't have wanted that, but no. I adored you, and yet I was never even sure if you even liked me. You might have trusted me, but a kind word, not wrapped up in a joke or some throwaway line would have been nice.'
'I did. I do. Care about you.' He reached and took her hand. 'Oh, Martha Jones, where do I begin?' He looked up at the strange greenpink light creeping across the sky and sighed. 'I know. I know I have not been fair to you. I've watched, I've heard myself do it and hated myself. But it's how it had to be.' He reached and touched her cheek. 'You know how old I really am. You've seen it. That's me. This...’ He gestured at himself. 'This is a shell. I really am that old, I really am from a completely different species. This is all window dressing. Next time I could be old and short and bald. I'm not sure. But one thing I am just about sure of is that I WILL outlive you. Doing that once with someone you... love is enough. Imagine it happening over and over again...' His voice trailed away. 'I once told - someone - that it was my curse. The curse of the Time Lords. And they chose not to hear. They wanted more, they wanted forever... And I let then believe in forever because it was easier, because it made me forget, because, harsh as it may sound to you humans, forever can be the blink of an eye to me. And it was. The blink of an eye, that is. And I was wrong to lead them on.'
He sighed and looked back at her, his eyes intense and wide. 'But I wanted to think it could happen, wanted that voice, that little nagging voice in the back of my brain that still was sane to be wrong for once. But, as we both know...’ He smiled sadly. 'I'm never wrong. My only defence is that I was in a bit of a mess. You think I'm bad now, you should have seen me then.' He shook his head. 'Gallifrey, the time war... it was all new to me. And they made me forget it for a while.'
Martha squeezed his hand to encourage him.
'You were the only one I told, you know. Really talked to. I never ever told anyone about home before, I'd hidden it away after... After it all happened. It was like...' He turned and looked out at the snow '... like if I didn't mention it, if I didn't talk about it, it wasn't true. It could be like nothing had happened, so even though I couldn't feel it, hear it or them any more in my mind and my hearts, I could pretend it was all still there, they were still there.'
He turned back to look back at her. 'I lied to myself, to everyone, because it was easier.' He looked down at her hand in his, their gloved fingers wrapped around each other. 'You made me talk, no one had ever done that for a long time.' He tugged gently at her hand. ' You made me face things I didn't want to, things I buried too long. You did me good, Martha Jones. Donna always said that.' He looked up to see a single tear trailing down her cheek and he lent forward to kiss it away. 'You never got to know that, but you did. I treated you badly, I asked so much of you and you always took care of me, no matter what.'
Martha looked up at the sky, trying not to cry.
'I was wrong, and this is the only way I know to make things right. Because I can't give you anything else, Martha Jones. I can only tell you I'm sorry, and hold your hand and offer you the universe if you want it.'
She laughed sadly and turned back to him, watching him watching her.
'I never really cared what you looked like, you know. Even when ... You were still you, whatever. It was still you.'
'I know that now.'
She sniffed and looked around. 'The universe... Not many girls are offered the universe and then get it.'
'Well, it might sound like a good deal, but it's not always fabulous. As you know.'
They smiled at each other for a moment until the Doctor pulled her towards him and they wrapped around each other, close and warm, Martha pressing her face into the softness of his coat and breathing him in.
'I never expected forever from you. I just wanted the here and now.'
'I should have given it to you. But I didn't know how to.' He kissed the top of her head. 'Not honestly, anyway.'
She turned her eyes to the sky, the greenpink sky, and breathed deeply. 'It's tomorrow, Doctor.'
He pulled her even closer and rubbed her back in slow circles. 'Naw. It's here and now, Martha.' He smiled into her hair as he rocked her gently in his arms.
'Welcome to here and now.'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Turning Night.
'Martha...'
She looked over at him in the first glimmers of the long awaited dawn, his carefully tousled hair, his dark dark eyes, his red lips, his mouth forming that hidden smile of his.
'I know.' She nodded.
'I'm sorry.'
'Why? I didn't expect anything of you, you know. I never expected a happy ever after. You're not human and I'm not a silly girl. I'm not an idiot.'
'I never said you were.'
'But you thought it.'
He looked away from her.
'I wanted nothing from you, Doctor. Just to be noticed, just to know that you did care about me in some kind of way...'
He looked at her again 'Martha, I told you...'
'No. Not just like that. I won't lie and say I wouldn't have wanted that, but no. I adored you, and yet I was never even sure if you even liked me. You might have trusted me, but a kind word, not wrapped up in a joke or some throwaway line would have been nice.'
'I did. I do. Care about you.' He reached and took her hand. 'Oh, Martha Jones, where do I begin?' He looked up at the strange greenpink light creeping across the sky and sighed. 'I know. I know I have not been fair to you. I've watched, I've heard myself do it and hated myself. But it's how it had to be.' He reached and touched her cheek. 'You know how old I really am. You've seen it. That's me. This...’ He gestured at himself. 'This is a shell. I really am that old, I really am from a completely different species. This is all window dressing. Next time I could be old and short and bald. I'm not sure. But one thing I am just about sure of is that I WILL outlive you. Doing that once with someone you... love is enough. Imagine it happening over and over again...' His voice trailed away. 'I once told - someone - that it was my curse. The curse of the Time Lords. And they chose not to hear. They wanted more, they wanted forever... And I let then believe in forever because it was easier, because it made me forget, because, harsh as it may sound to you humans, forever can be the blink of an eye to me. And it was. The blink of an eye, that is. And I was wrong to lead them on.'
He sighed and looked back at her, his eyes intense and wide. 'But I wanted to think it could happen, wanted that voice, that little nagging voice in the back of my brain that still was sane to be wrong for once. But, as we both know...’ He smiled sadly. 'I'm never wrong. My only defence is that I was in a bit of a mess. You think I'm bad now, you should have seen me then.' He shook his head. 'Gallifrey, the time war... it was all new to me. And they made me forget it for a while.'
Martha squeezed his hand to encourage him.
'You were the only one I told, you know. Really talked to. I never ever told anyone about home before, I'd hidden it away after... After it all happened. It was like...' He turned and looked out at the snow '... like if I didn't mention it, if I didn't talk about it, it wasn't true. It could be like nothing had happened, so even though I couldn't feel it, hear it or them any more in my mind and my hearts, I could pretend it was all still there, they were still there.'
He turned back to look back at her. 'I lied to myself, to everyone, because it was easier.' He looked down at her hand in his, their gloved fingers wrapped around each other. 'You made me talk, no one had ever done that for a long time.' He tugged gently at her hand. ' You made me face things I didn't want to, things I buried too long. You did me good, Martha Jones. Donna always said that.' He looked up to see a single tear trailing down her cheek and he lent forward to kiss it away. 'You never got to know that, but you did. I treated you badly, I asked so much of you and you always took care of me, no matter what.'
Martha looked up at the sky, trying not to cry.
'I was wrong, and this is the only way I know to make things right. Because I can't give you anything else, Martha Jones. I can only tell you I'm sorry, and hold your hand and offer you the universe if you want it.'
She laughed sadly and turned back to him, watching him watching her.
'I never really cared what you looked like, you know. Even when ... You were still you, whatever. It was still you.'
'I know that now.'
She sniffed and looked around. 'The universe... Not many girls are offered the universe and then get it.'
'Well, it might sound like a good deal, but it's not always fabulous. As you know.'
They smiled at each other for a moment until the Doctor pulled her towards him and they wrapped around each other, close and warm, Martha pressing her face into the softness of his coat and breathing him in.
'I never expected forever from you. I just wanted the here and now.'
'I should have given it to you. But I didn't know how to.' He kissed the top of her head. 'Not honestly, anyway.'
She turned her eyes to the sky, the greenpink sky, and breathed deeply. 'It's tomorrow, Doctor.'
He pulled her even closer and rubbed her back in slow circles. 'Naw. It's here and now, Martha.' He smiled into her hair as he rocked her gently in his arms.
'Welcome to here and now.'
Saturday, 18 July 2009
What more?
Yes. More. Live with it.
:D
*****************
Three T's
He still smells the same... Smells of tea and TARDIS and time. The body and the face may be completely different, but when he gathers you in his arms and you close your eyes he still smells the same. He's moved you through time all over again.
He's young looking. Shockingly young. Worryingly young. That good looking man in the staff room who smiled so beautifully at you, making you want things you shouldn't want with a man that could possibly be your son. He's still tall but thin, thin enough to make your long dormant mothering instinct raise its head. But his coat... His coat feels the same, though. Under your cheek. It's still rough and scratchy, reassuring. The twin beat beneath the skin still strong and steady. He still feels solid, like forever and if you don't open your eyes you could kid yourself it's all the same. Same Doctor. Same TARDIS. Same you. So you keep them closed, tightly closed as he pulls a little more at your shoulder. He lays his cheek on the crown of your head and you sigh, a 25 year olds sigh, the sigh of a woman left, fruitlessly comparing all to an original that could never be.
'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry'
You wonder what he is sorry for. For what you have just lost, or for what you lost a lifetime ago. His hand strokes your hair. You screw your eyes up tighter. You want to be 25 again. It's him, you tell yourself. It's him.
'Sarah Jane?'
It's not him. You take a deep breath and open your eyes. There is that good looking man from the staff room, all big eyes and carefully disarranged hair, looking worriedly at you. You swipe a tear from your cheek. You feel every one of your 50-odd years looking at him.
'I'm fine. Really. It's... He was all I had left'
You think you see regret flicker across his face. You see it in his eyes. You can see all his 900 odd years in his eyes. He takes your hand and tugs.
'Come on. I think we could do with a cup of tea'
It's not him, you chant. Even though he smells of tea and TARDIS and time. It's not him. It can't be him. You can't do this again.
You squeeze his hand. He smiles. You wish he wouldn't.
You can't do this again
:D
*****************
Three T's
He still smells the same... Smells of tea and TARDIS and time. The body and the face may be completely different, but when he gathers you in his arms and you close your eyes he still smells the same. He's moved you through time all over again.
He's young looking. Shockingly young. Worryingly young. That good looking man in the staff room who smiled so beautifully at you, making you want things you shouldn't want with a man that could possibly be your son. He's still tall but thin, thin enough to make your long dormant mothering instinct raise its head. But his coat... His coat feels the same, though. Under your cheek. It's still rough and scratchy, reassuring. The twin beat beneath the skin still strong and steady. He still feels solid, like forever and if you don't open your eyes you could kid yourself it's all the same. Same Doctor. Same TARDIS. Same you. So you keep them closed, tightly closed as he pulls a little more at your shoulder. He lays his cheek on the crown of your head and you sigh, a 25 year olds sigh, the sigh of a woman left, fruitlessly comparing all to an original that could never be.
'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry'
You wonder what he is sorry for. For what you have just lost, or for what you lost a lifetime ago. His hand strokes your hair. You screw your eyes up tighter. You want to be 25 again. It's him, you tell yourself. It's him.
'Sarah Jane?'
It's not him. You take a deep breath and open your eyes. There is that good looking man from the staff room, all big eyes and carefully disarranged hair, looking worriedly at you. You swipe a tear from your cheek. You feel every one of your 50-odd years looking at him.
'I'm fine. Really. It's... He was all I had left'
You think you see regret flicker across his face. You see it in his eyes. You can see all his 900 odd years in his eyes. He takes your hand and tugs.
'Come on. I think we could do with a cup of tea'
It's not him, you chant. Even though he smells of tea and TARDIS and time. It's not him. It can't be him. You can't do this again.
You squeeze his hand. He smiles. You wish he wouldn't.
You can't do this again
Friday, 17 July 2009
Here and posting
So... Posting. Although, in fairness, it's just some fic stuff I've done and am putting on here should anyone want a quick peek. I'm a very infrequent writer and not very good to boot, but I keep plugging away. So, have at it and have a laugh! First one is Saucy Ten being naughty with unknown companion. He's such a boytart. This is naughty, so if you are not old enough, look away now...
***************
Human Weakness.
The man in the rumpled brown suit moved closer to her.
'Would it be too clichéd to ask if you come here often?' He smiled broadly at her, and she found herself smiling back.
'Here? No. And yes, it is a complete cliché. The oldest line in the book.'
The smile became impossibly wider and tipped his head to the side. 'Oh I dare say it is. But there again, I probably wrote the book. If not, I most definitely would have read the first edition.'
She looked him up and down. Tall and very slim, but square shouldered and solid looking. A suit, creased and crumpled but well tailored, fitting him oh so completely, even if it did look as if he'd slept in it. Looking closer, she could see the brown cloth had a not too subtle blue stripe in it. His loosely knotted tie was dark blue with a swirled lighter blue and deep red pattern worn with a dark blue shirt, the colours perfect with his brown hair, somehow impossibly matching the suit, giving him the air of shabby chic, someone who didn't have to try. It was messy yet seemed elegant and effortless and looked perfect on him.
She smiled back at him.
'So, is that what you are -- A writer?'
'What do you think I am?'
'I don't know. Smart mouth, easy manner, vintage chic... You could be a writer. Journalist for some arts magazine. Artist?'
He rocked back on his heels and jammed his hands in his pockets, still grinning.
She tried again.
'Erm... I can't think. So -- not a writer. A and R for a record label?'
He shook his head.
'Singer?'
'Oh, no. That is one thing the world is not prepared for.'
'Actor?'
'Funny you should say that... I have dabbled, been told I'm quite good. Well, I say quite good. Will said that he hadn't seen anything like my Bott... And that's a very, very old joke that really doesn't need to see the light of day again.' He scratched the back of his head. 'No. I'm not an actor.'
'I felt sure you were in the arts or something. I'm stuck. Brain surgeon, Astronaut...'
'Ahh. Now, you see, you are getting a bit warm there...'
'You're a doctor!'
He stared at her for a moment and then blinked, his mouth quirking into a smile.
'You know, you're right. Just call me Doctor.'
'Doctor of what?'
'Oh, just about anything and everything, really. You name it, I'll have a go.' He beamed.
She shook her head.
'Oh, OK. Don't tell me. Mystery man.'
'Yep. That's me. Man of mystery.’ He grinned winningly at her. ‘Come on. You can explain to me the mystery of some of this so-called ‘art’. I think we are going to need a drink…’ She took his offered arm and they walked towards the wall of carefully arranged canvases.
****************************
'Well, Doctor… We've done the polite chitchat. We've spent a respectable amount time looking at this dreadful art. You've got me a drink. I've laughed at your jokes —'
'Ahh, well, actually, no you didn't. Not one of them. And generally people do laugh, they really do —'
'I know a quiet place where we can talk a bit more and then maybe you'll tell me your name and what you really do… 'Doctor'. '
'Quiet? Where? Quiet and me don't… Gel, really.'
'Quiet as in my place. And the wine I have is much better than this muck.' She raised her glass.
He looked down into his drink.
'This wine isn't bad — I've had worse. There was this place, outer …' He glanced at her, catching the look she was giving him. 'Are you trying to pick me up?' He looked delighted, his face lighting up.
'Well, it was either offer you some better wine or ask you to come back and look at my etchings.'
'Now, you know, I think that may be the oldest line in the book — In fact I think that is universally accepted as the oldest line in the book. In fact, I'm sure that was used before books were even thought about... Cavemen! Cavemen were using that line… 'You want to come back to my cave to see my etchings?' He grinned away to himself.
By the time the Doctor had been musing over this to himself, she had put her coat on and was fumbling in her bag, checking for her phone.
'Are you ready?'
'What? Oh, yes. Etchings.' He ran his hand through his hair. 'Do you actually have some etchings?'
She laughed. 'No. No etchings. But reasonable wine. Or if you prefer I can do you a nice line in fresh coffee?'
'Oh, I'm a tea man, me. Good cup of builders tea, type you can stand your spoon up in.' He beamed.
'Do you have a car?'
'A what?'
'Car. Do you have transport?'
'Ahhh, I do have transport, but it's not really made for short hops. I, erm… I left it at home. In fact, you could say it is my home.'
'You live in it? What is it, a houseboat or something?'
'Umm - It is some sort of ship, yes…'
She looked at him, puzzled and then shook her head.
'You are strange. I'm questioning my sanity at the moment.'
'Oh, don't worry. I'm safe as houses, me. Normal as you can get' He saw her stifle a smile. 'No really. I am. Cross my hearts…Heart.'
*******************************
They got a cab back to her flat, the Doctor keeping up a running commentary of bad jokes and inane facts about points of interest they passed. She turned towards him and smiled, laughing and wondering at the strange fascinating man sitting besides her.
'Where are you from?'
'Me? Erm, well.. I'm from' he swallowed 'around.'
'And 'Around' would be near…'
'Here and there.'
'Ah. The well known county of 'Here and There'.'
He looked suddenly serious.
'Does it matter?'
'No. No I suppose it doesn't. It doesn't make me feel very clever asking you back home, though. No name, not from anywhere…'
'I've told you. Call me the Doctor. Really. Everyone does. And as for where I'm from -- I travel a lot. Always have done. So I don't actually consider myself to be from anywhere, really. Not any more. Got a bit of a soft spot for round here, though; always seem to end up in this area of the universe. Human weakness, I suppose you could call it.' He snorted 'Yep, you could most definitely call it that. 'Human Weakness!' ' He grinned wildly at her, looking most pleased with himself, as if he'd just said something very, very clever.
'You have a very charming smile, you know that?'
'Good teeth' He snapped them together 'They are brilliant, they really are. Best ever. I think. Not quite as horsey as the last good set…'
She looked at him shocked 'The last set?'
'Ahhh..' He tugged at his ear. 'Erm.' He grinned suddenly. 'Just joking! You didn't think that…'
She shook her head. 'You are quite mad. Quite, quite mad.'
*************************
'Come in.'
He stood just inside the hall, hands shoved in his trouser pockets as she closed the door to her flat, taking off her coat and dumping it and her bag on a side table.
'Nice.' He looked around, nodding.
'It's nicer inside. Coat?'
He shrugged his coat off, throwing it on top of hers, ignoring her outstretched hand.
'OK… come through.' She headed through to the main room. 'I promised you some good wine.'
'Really, tea would be fine, you don't have to go to any trouble.' He wandered after her, hands back in his pockets.
'No trouble, really. I need some good stuff to take the taste of that muck away. I don't know how you can say you liked it… I'll show you a good wine.' She looked over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen. 'Make yourself at home. I'll be right back.'
He wandered to the bookshelves, reaching into his pocket for his glasses and studying the spines.
'So' He called absent-mindedly as he pulled a Robert Frost collection from the shelf and flicked through it. 'What do you do? You never said.'
She walked back into the room with two glasses in one hand, a bottle and a corkscrew in the other.
'You didn't ask.' She placed the wine and the glasses on the table.
He looked at her over the top of dark frames, book still open in his hand. 'So now I'm asking.' He snapped the book shut. 'Nice choice of books. Frost, Shakespeare, Beckett, Dickens…' He picked out a dog-eared copy of "Hollywood Wives." '…Collins. All the literary greats.'
She grabbed the book from his hand.
'It was for research only. I'm a journalist. I sometimes write the odd review or two.'
His eyes to lit up.
'A journalist! Oh, fantastic! I love journalists. Always sooo…' He took his glasses off 'So inquisitive.'
'Most people would say nosy. Not that my inquisitiveness is getting me very far with you now, is it?' She dropped the book on the table.
'Oh, I don't know. I'm here. That's not bad.' He eyed the wine 'Although a cuppa would really have been ok, you know. Good wine is wasted on me.'
She reached for the corkscrew and began working on the bottle. 'It might be wasted on you, but I could do with a glass.' The cork eased out of the bottle and she poured two large glasses. 'Sit down and make yourself comfortable. I want to see if I can pry any more information out of you.'
She handed him a glass as he sat down, relaxing against the cushions.
'Pry away.' He sipped the wine and licked his lips. 'So - this wine is better because?'
'Don't change the subject. And it is better, just because you have no taste, don't blame me.' She settled down next to him on the sofa. 'So. Doctor. Where do you work?'
'I'm… Erm. I suppose you could say I work for myself. A freelance.'
'You're in private practice? That doesn't seem to be your kind of thing…'
'Oh, now you are assuming I'm a medical doctor. A good journalist shouldn't assume now, should they?'
'How do you know I'm a good journalist?'
'Oh, I bet you are. Good journalist. Good wine, good books…' He picked up the copy of "Hollywood Wives" from the table.
She tried to snatch the book from his hands, but he was too quick and moved it away from her.
'I told you, it was just for my job.'
'It's a bit too battered for that. Let's see where it falls open, shall we?'
'No!' She grabbed again and this time managed to get it from him.
He laughed. 'Oooh, touchy! Let me guess — was it at…'
She looked amazed as he continued to quote, word for word, a particularly florid passage from the book, the amazement gradually turning to arousal.
'But nawww… I'm sure you wouldn't have lingered on such an excerpt as that. She has a torrid turn of phrase, does old Jackie though, got to give her that. Quite stimulating in the right circumstances. If you are that way inclined, of course.' He sipped his wine again, looking at her over the rim of his glass.
'Are you that way inclined?' She asked.
'Ahhh, the journalist, forthright as always. Humans are so good at this, so…'
'Humans?'
He looked blank for a moment, blinked and then half smiled.
'Erm, Humans. People, mankind… You know what I mean…'
'Hmm. So — answer the question — are you that way inclined?'
'Ah.. Now that would be telling. And I seem to recall, you were the one that picked me up.'
'Now, if I recall, you used a cheesy pick up line on me first.'
'Ahh, but you actually picked me up. Etchings, remember?'
'You were the most interesting person in that gallery. You seemed like you'd be interesting, and you are. And you're attractive as well… A bonus.'
'Me?'
'You must know you are.'
He shook his head, looking slightly bewildered. 'Not something I think about, really.' He tugged at his earlobe. 'Doesn't come up very much in the circles I mix in, to be honest.'
She smiled. 'You really don't know, do you? I'd have thought you'd have a line of women outside your door.'
'Well, I've been known to have the odd woman or two. Or three. Travelled with a few people.'
‘A few people?’
‘Oh, I’ve been around a bit.’ He caught her eyeing him ‘And not in the way you’re thinking, either.’
She lent forward, her hand caressing his cheek. ‘I wasn’t thinking anything.’
He smiled. ‘Yes you were. But I meant travelling wise. Really.’
‘You feel a bit chilly — are you warm enough?’ She rubbed her thumb over his cheekbone. ‘I could turn the heating up…’ her thumb moved to brush against his bottom lip ‘Or I could warm you up another way?’
‘Another way?’ He blinked and swallowed.
She lent forward and kissed him, lightly and slowly. He seemed surprised at first but then began to respond, his mouth opening slightly, his cool tongue touching hers.
She stood and urged him to his feet, tugging at his hand. ‘This way. I think we’ll be more comfortable in here.’
She lead him through the flat to her bedroom, stopping by the bed to turn and kiss him again, the only light in the room from the open door to the hall. He responded more readily this time, pulling her closer, his mouth pressing to mouth, breaking slightly away and then returning to slip his tongue against hers. He still felt cool and to her, his mouth still tasting of wine. He pulled closer still and she could feel him hardening against her, his hands beginning to tug at her clothes, almost with a mind of their own.
'Zips at the side.' She whispered in his ear, returning to sucking and nipping at his earlobe.
She felt him trace his hand across her breast, making it's way towards the zip in her shift dress, finally finding it after some rather acceptable fumbling and drawing the tab down to undo and loosening the garment.
'Take it off.' He said quietly, standing slightly back to give her room, his eyes never leaving hers.
She pulled the dress over her head as gracefully as possible and stood in front of him in just her panties, arms at her side, waiting him to make a move.
'Now… That's beautiful. And believe me, I've seen lots of beautiful things in lots of beautiful, beautiful places and that...' he swallowed and took a step towards her, until she could feel the material of his suit against her bare skin. 'That is beautiful.'
They kissed again as she moved backwards towards the bed, pulling him with her. Falling backwards onto the bed, him on top of her, his mouth moving from hers, tracing her jaw line with kisses, down further and nipping and licking at her shoulder. Her hands moved restlessly across his shoulders, wanting him closer, pulling him as close as she could get him. He finally turned his attention and mouth to her breasts, gently pressing kisses to her flesh, taking time to suck first one and then the other hardening nipple into his mouth as he descended, his still cool tongue against her rapidly heating skin.
He was still dressed in that damn suit as his mouth moved downward, kissing over her stomach until his lips reached the top of her panties. She felt his fingers slip under the waistband and pull down, working slowly over her hips as his mouth moved lower, pressing damp kisses over her skin until he reached his destination, flicking his tongue out to taste her centre. He looked up at her; jacket still buttoned, tie askew - grinned, licked his lips and then bent his head again to continue his task. She gasped and bucked against him, hand reaching to grab a handful of his hair as his wet tongue moved across her, flickering and swirling. She pulled at his hair harder than she intended as he hit a particularly good spot and he lifted his head with a groan.
'Oi! I'm attached to that hair, you know.' He endevoured to look sternly at her, all the while trying to stifle a smile.
She tugged it again playfully and wiggled beneath him, beaming back at him.
'Ahh. Can't stay still. I see. Well, as I'm so attached to my hair and you seem to want to pull at it, I think we have a little bit of a problem here...' He knelt up, still with that smile, and started to pull at his already loose tie. 'And I certainly like to solve a problem - mind like a steel trap, me. What we need is to get those fingers of yours under control and not pulling my hair.' He gave her an almost comedic wink, pulling the tie from around his neck and leaning forward slightly. 'Well, not yet, anyway.'
She smiled as he held her hand, kissed the back and then the palm, tongue flicking to taste her skin. Then moving fast, he grabbed her other hand and raised them swiftly over her head, wrapping the tie around and pulling both wrists together loosely, before using the tie to secure them to the wooden slatted bed head. He sat back again and gave her that full impossibly wide grin she'd first seen at the gallery.
'There. Problem solved. See, I told you.' He tapped his head with his forefinger 'Steel trap.'
He took his jacket off, all the while watching her tug in a half-hearted fashion at the bindings around her wrist, and dropped it into a heap over the side of the bed. He then tugged at his shirt, already mostly out of his waistband, pulling it out completely.
'Chhh Chhh Chhh Heyyy! Watch what you're doing with that tie. One of my favourites, that is. Got it for Christmas... Didn't I? Or was it at that flea market on... Oh, I don't know. Silk.' He reached up and checked to make sure it wasn't too tight. She smiled up at him and wriggled for the effect, drawing his eyes as her breasts moved, swaying with each tug she gave.
'Although... I am liking the effect. "For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction." Never, never have I seen one of the laws of physics demonstrated so gloriously. Bet old Newton hadn't either.' He paused, thinking. 'Although he was a bit of a lad was Isaac...'
He brought his hands up, covering each breast, long fingers splayed across her skin. Her nipples hardened further, peeking out from between his index and middle fingers as he watched, fascinated.
'See. For every action...'
'Do you ever shut up?'
He dragged his attention from her breasts to see her smiling up at him. He shook his head. 'No. No I don't think I ever do. Been told that before, actually. Got a bit of a gob on me, it has to be admitted.'
'You certainly do seem to have 'A bit of a gob' on you. How's about putting it to better use?' She arched her back slightly, pushing her breasts further into his hands, and licked her lips.
‘Never does any harm to admire the laws of physics when you see them in action, I say. But you’re right. Time for a reaction…’ He squeezed her breasts lightly, then stood up, unbuttoning and slipping out off his shirt as she watched, fascinated as he lazily toed off his shoes and then slowly unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers pushing them and any underwear he might have been wearing to the floor.
Settling back between her thighs, he lowered his head until she could feel his breath against her skin, cool against her heat. He then flicked his tongue out again taking up where he had left off, causing her hips to lift up to meet him and a gasping moan to escape her. He continued to work on her, lips and tongue pressing against her, and she writhed against the covers, hands still trapped above her head, trapped and at his will. She felt his mouth settle against her clit and concentrate on swirling and sucking whilst she felt fingers press inside her, first one then he added a second and finally a third, long slim fingers moving rhythmically within her as he continued to flick his tongue against her. He picked up the pace and finally she came, her back arching, her hips rising to him, moaning and breathless.
Moving back over her body, he pressed her down into the bed, his slim hips pushing against her, his hard cock straining to meet her. She raised her knee, rubbing against his thigh, and he pressed against her again, his shaft sliding along her opening. He reached up and released her from his tie, and she smoothed a now free hand over his face, brushing the hair away from his forehead and reaching up, kissing his cool mouth. He responded, his tongue snaking out to meet hers, slowly tangling and sliding around until he kissed across her chin and down her neck, his long fingers cupping her breast and guiding her nipple to his mouth. Her fingers raked his hair as he traced round the hard tip and then sucked, his tongue continuing to flick the tip while he increased suction. Pulling his mouth away, he moved back to kiss her again, his fingers continuing to stroke around her damp nipple.
'This world is turning, spinning, hurtling through space... And it feels like just you and I, doesn't it? Right now. Just us in the entire universe. Any universe. Only us and nothing and no-one else but us.' He kissed her soundly, tongue moving against hers sinuously 'But it's not true. Not for you, anyway. You're not alone, ever, never. There are millions, billions of you. Me... There's only me' He drifted, his eyes became far away and she wondered why he looked suddenly older.
'But you're not alone. You're not. I'm here.' she stroked his hair again, nails scratching at his scalp.
'You might be here.' He stroked her face gently, tracing over her eyelids, her forehead. 'I'm still alone.'
His eyes suddenly darkened and he bent, kissing her savagely, tongue pressed into her mouth, hands moving over her body, pressing her thighs wider with his legs and thrusting hard into her body, entering her completely.
She gasped and rose to meet him, her hands pulling at his shoulders as he kept driving into her, hips moving with no finesse, no gentleness - short sharp movements, moving fast and hard. He tugged at her thigh, pulling her leg upwards, changing the angle of his thrusts and moving harder against her. Wrapping her free leg around his hip, she tried to keep up with his wild movements, raking her nails down his back and digging them into his hips. He licked the side of her neck and said something that she couldn't make out, moving impossibly faster, hitting just the right spot over and over causing her to suddenly become wide-eyed and gasping, curling up towards him as she came hard, body shuddering and clutching at him.
He slowed slightly, keeping his movements shallow but as she started to relax he picked up the pace once more, resuming his wild thrusts, pushing her down into the bed again and grinding against her. He pressed his forehead to her shoulder, gasping and chanting 'come on, come on' seemingly oblivious to her. His movements then became slower and sloppy, until suddenly he almost threw himself off her and lay on his back next to her, one arm thrown across his eyes, his cock still hard and erect.
She turned her head to look at him, watching his chest rise and fall as his breathing returned to normal.
'Are you ok?' she whispered, reaching across to touch his shoulder and saw him nod, eyes still hidden behind his arm. She paused. 'You didn't come' She rolled towards him and started to reach for him.
He moved his arm that covered his face and grabbed her wrist tightly, stopping her touching him. 'Don't. Really. Don't.'
'But...'
'But nothing. I'm fine.' He didn't look at her, keeping his eyes fixed to the ceiling, his voice a hoarse whisper, releasing her hand from his tight grip.
She lay on her side as close to him as she could get without touching him and studied his profile. He looked weary and suddenly older in some way, around his eyes and the set of his mouth. That look she'd seen earlier.
'You're not fine. Can't I help?' She hardly knew him, but there was something about him that made her want to offer whatever she could to help him.
'I don't make a habit of this, you know. I'm not some sort of sexual predator.' He barked out a humourless laugh. 'Ha, that's a laugh. Me! A sexual predator!' He scrubbed his hand over his face. 'Truth is, I haven't been with anyone for a long time. A very long time.' Turning his head, he looked at her. 'I'm sorry. I thought -- I thought I could...' He stopped and snapped his mouth shut. 'I'm sorry.'
'What happened? Did you lose someone?'
He surprised her and laughed. 'Oh, not just someone. Everyone. I lost everyone. Everything.' He looked her in the eyes. 'I thought I'd won a war, but I lost. Lost the past, the present, the future.' He swallowed. 'I lost a whole damn planet.'
She reached and touched his cheek, rubbing her thumb gently across his cool skin and he slowly blinked.
'And of course you now think I'm completely mad.' He turned to look back up at the ceiling. 'Which in some respects I most certainly am. "What am I doing in bed with this madman?" I bet that's what you're thinking right now. Am I right? I'm right, aren't I?' He turned on his side and faced her. 'You don't have to deny it. You'd probably think that of me in my best moments, let alone now. I wonder about my own sanity at times, but there again I always have - sometimes the old brain just won't stay quiet it just keeps on and on and on... all the time. Sometimes I can ignore it, but it's always there, it is always there... ' He nodded. 'And right now I bet I'm really really scaring you. I think I should leave'
He started to rise, but she grabbed his hand.
'You don't have to. Really. I'd like to help if I can. '
'You don't know me'
'I know you seem sad and lonely'
'Part of the job description'
'What?'
'Oh, nothing.' He stood up searching amongst the clothes on the floor for his trousers, finding them and then slipping them on. 'Look, I don't do this. I never do this. This- 'he spread his arms 'This is not what I do. And I'm sorry that you got caught up in my experimentation.' He picked up his shirt and started to put it on, buttoning it up swiftly.
'You think I make a habit of this?' She watched him shrug the now even more rumpled jacket on. 'You think I go to events and pick up strangely fascinating men for sex?'
'You think I'm fascinating?'
'I said strangely fascinating.'
He sat down on the edge of the bed, and pulled the sheet up over her naked body.
'I don't think you make a habit of this, no. But I've been unfair to you and you don't deserve to be pulled in any further.' He fiddled with a strand of her dark hair. 'You remind me so much of someone else and I'm afraid I tried something, something I never had the courage to do before, and it was too late. I'm so sorry I did that, so sorry.' He touched her cheek 'We could have seen so many places, you and I, so many... But it wouldn't be right. Not now.'
'You don't have to go. Really.' She tugged at his hand. 'You really are fascinating, you know. I would like to get to know you better. Try and help, find out what's going on in that head of yours.' She ran her fingers through his hair and stroked down the side of his cheek. 'Go to these places you talk about.'
'I can't do that to you…'
'Do what?' She sat up, clutching the sheet to herself.
'I've been unfair to you, I've told you. It wouldn't be right to ask you …To show you what…'
'Ask me. Show me. I want to know. There is something, isn't there?' She held his hand again. 'You say you've been unfair to me. I don't understand. Show me. Tell me why you've been unfair. Let me make up my own mind. Let me decide if you've been unfair.' She tugged his hand again until he looked at her. 'Are you married?'
He laughed, surprising her. 'No! Well, not for a good few years now.'
'So? What have you lost? Why are you so sad?' She turned and sat on the edge of the bed next to him. 'You mentioned a 'War'. What war? Have you literally been in a war or are you…'
'Shhh.'
'What?'
'You're really not going to shut up until you until I tell you, are you?'
'You don't have to tell me.'
He laughed to himself. 'Yeah. And I bet you'll let me get away with that. Talk about me having a gob… Journalists. All the same.' He looked her in the eye. 'You really want to know? You want to know about me? What I do? Where I'm from?'
She nodded, smiling encouragingly at him.
'Yes. I do. I really do find you…'
'Strangely fascinating, I know. You've told me.' He stood up, undoing the tie from the bed head and draping it round his neck, tying it in a loose messy knot. 'Come on, then. You can't go out dressed in a sheet. Well, you could, but you'd look a bit odd. Very nice. But odd.'
'What?'
'You want to know. I'll show you. You're right. You should be able to decide for yourself.' He turned back, looking at her sitting on the edge of the bed, sheet slipping down, a shocked look on her face. He tried to smooth the creases from his jacket and failed.
'Come on — Chop, chop!! Time waits for no man and all that.' He began to button up his jacket. 'Well, it waits for me, but that's something we can discuss later…' He started to leave the bedroom. 'You coming? I'm not seeing any movement… C'mon! Places to go, people to see, wonders to… wonder.'
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and bounced out of the room, leaving her to stare at the door, his voice drifting back.
'Oh, yes…So very, very many wonders to wonder…'
***************
Human Weakness.
The man in the rumpled brown suit moved closer to her.
'Would it be too clichéd to ask if you come here often?' He smiled broadly at her, and she found herself smiling back.
'Here? No. And yes, it is a complete cliché. The oldest line in the book.'
The smile became impossibly wider and tipped his head to the side. 'Oh I dare say it is. But there again, I probably wrote the book. If not, I most definitely would have read the first edition.'
She looked him up and down. Tall and very slim, but square shouldered and solid looking. A suit, creased and crumpled but well tailored, fitting him oh so completely, even if it did look as if he'd slept in it. Looking closer, she could see the brown cloth had a not too subtle blue stripe in it. His loosely knotted tie was dark blue with a swirled lighter blue and deep red pattern worn with a dark blue shirt, the colours perfect with his brown hair, somehow impossibly matching the suit, giving him the air of shabby chic, someone who didn't have to try. It was messy yet seemed elegant and effortless and looked perfect on him.
She smiled back at him.
'So, is that what you are -- A writer?'
'What do you think I am?'
'I don't know. Smart mouth, easy manner, vintage chic... You could be a writer. Journalist for some arts magazine. Artist?'
He rocked back on his heels and jammed his hands in his pockets, still grinning.
She tried again.
'Erm... I can't think. So -- not a writer. A and R for a record label?'
He shook his head.
'Singer?'
'Oh, no. That is one thing the world is not prepared for.'
'Actor?'
'Funny you should say that... I have dabbled, been told I'm quite good. Well, I say quite good. Will said that he hadn't seen anything like my Bott... And that's a very, very old joke that really doesn't need to see the light of day again.' He scratched the back of his head. 'No. I'm not an actor.'
'I felt sure you were in the arts or something. I'm stuck. Brain surgeon, Astronaut...'
'Ahh. Now, you see, you are getting a bit warm there...'
'You're a doctor!'
He stared at her for a moment and then blinked, his mouth quirking into a smile.
'You know, you're right. Just call me Doctor.'
'Doctor of what?'
'Oh, just about anything and everything, really. You name it, I'll have a go.' He beamed.
She shook her head.
'Oh, OK. Don't tell me. Mystery man.'
'Yep. That's me. Man of mystery.’ He grinned winningly at her. ‘Come on. You can explain to me the mystery of some of this so-called ‘art’. I think we are going to need a drink…’ She took his offered arm and they walked towards the wall of carefully arranged canvases.
****************************
'Well, Doctor… We've done the polite chitchat. We've spent a respectable amount time looking at this dreadful art. You've got me a drink. I've laughed at your jokes —'
'Ahh, well, actually, no you didn't. Not one of them. And generally people do laugh, they really do —'
'I know a quiet place where we can talk a bit more and then maybe you'll tell me your name and what you really do… 'Doctor'. '
'Quiet? Where? Quiet and me don't… Gel, really.'
'Quiet as in my place. And the wine I have is much better than this muck.' She raised her glass.
He looked down into his drink.
'This wine isn't bad — I've had worse. There was this place, outer …' He glanced at her, catching the look she was giving him. 'Are you trying to pick me up?' He looked delighted, his face lighting up.
'Well, it was either offer you some better wine or ask you to come back and look at my etchings.'
'Now, you know, I think that may be the oldest line in the book — In fact I think that is universally accepted as the oldest line in the book. In fact, I'm sure that was used before books were even thought about... Cavemen! Cavemen were using that line… 'You want to come back to my cave to see my etchings?' He grinned away to himself.
By the time the Doctor had been musing over this to himself, she had put her coat on and was fumbling in her bag, checking for her phone.
'Are you ready?'
'What? Oh, yes. Etchings.' He ran his hand through his hair. 'Do you actually have some etchings?'
She laughed. 'No. No etchings. But reasonable wine. Or if you prefer I can do you a nice line in fresh coffee?'
'Oh, I'm a tea man, me. Good cup of builders tea, type you can stand your spoon up in.' He beamed.
'Do you have a car?'
'A what?'
'Car. Do you have transport?'
'Ahhh, I do have transport, but it's not really made for short hops. I, erm… I left it at home. In fact, you could say it is my home.'
'You live in it? What is it, a houseboat or something?'
'Umm - It is some sort of ship, yes…'
She looked at him, puzzled and then shook her head.
'You are strange. I'm questioning my sanity at the moment.'
'Oh, don't worry. I'm safe as houses, me. Normal as you can get' He saw her stifle a smile. 'No really. I am. Cross my hearts…Heart.'
*******************************
They got a cab back to her flat, the Doctor keeping up a running commentary of bad jokes and inane facts about points of interest they passed. She turned towards him and smiled, laughing and wondering at the strange fascinating man sitting besides her.
'Where are you from?'
'Me? Erm, well.. I'm from' he swallowed 'around.'
'And 'Around' would be near…'
'Here and there.'
'Ah. The well known county of 'Here and There'.'
He looked suddenly serious.
'Does it matter?'
'No. No I suppose it doesn't. It doesn't make me feel very clever asking you back home, though. No name, not from anywhere…'
'I've told you. Call me the Doctor. Really. Everyone does. And as for where I'm from -- I travel a lot. Always have done. So I don't actually consider myself to be from anywhere, really. Not any more. Got a bit of a soft spot for round here, though; always seem to end up in this area of the universe. Human weakness, I suppose you could call it.' He snorted 'Yep, you could most definitely call it that. 'Human Weakness!' ' He grinned wildly at her, looking most pleased with himself, as if he'd just said something very, very clever.
'You have a very charming smile, you know that?'
'Good teeth' He snapped them together 'They are brilliant, they really are. Best ever. I think. Not quite as horsey as the last good set…'
She looked at him shocked 'The last set?'
'Ahhh..' He tugged at his ear. 'Erm.' He grinned suddenly. 'Just joking! You didn't think that…'
She shook her head. 'You are quite mad. Quite, quite mad.'
*************************
'Come in.'
He stood just inside the hall, hands shoved in his trouser pockets as she closed the door to her flat, taking off her coat and dumping it and her bag on a side table.
'Nice.' He looked around, nodding.
'It's nicer inside. Coat?'
He shrugged his coat off, throwing it on top of hers, ignoring her outstretched hand.
'OK… come through.' She headed through to the main room. 'I promised you some good wine.'
'Really, tea would be fine, you don't have to go to any trouble.' He wandered after her, hands back in his pockets.
'No trouble, really. I need some good stuff to take the taste of that muck away. I don't know how you can say you liked it… I'll show you a good wine.' She looked over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen. 'Make yourself at home. I'll be right back.'
He wandered to the bookshelves, reaching into his pocket for his glasses and studying the spines.
'So' He called absent-mindedly as he pulled a Robert Frost collection from the shelf and flicked through it. 'What do you do? You never said.'
She walked back into the room with two glasses in one hand, a bottle and a corkscrew in the other.
'You didn't ask.' She placed the wine and the glasses on the table.
He looked at her over the top of dark frames, book still open in his hand. 'So now I'm asking.' He snapped the book shut. 'Nice choice of books. Frost, Shakespeare, Beckett, Dickens…' He picked out a dog-eared copy of "Hollywood Wives." '…Collins. All the literary greats.'
She grabbed the book from his hand.
'It was for research only. I'm a journalist. I sometimes write the odd review or two.'
His eyes to lit up.
'A journalist! Oh, fantastic! I love journalists. Always sooo…' He took his glasses off 'So inquisitive.'
'Most people would say nosy. Not that my inquisitiveness is getting me very far with you now, is it?' She dropped the book on the table.
'Oh, I don't know. I'm here. That's not bad.' He eyed the wine 'Although a cuppa would really have been ok, you know. Good wine is wasted on me.'
She reached for the corkscrew and began working on the bottle. 'It might be wasted on you, but I could do with a glass.' The cork eased out of the bottle and she poured two large glasses. 'Sit down and make yourself comfortable. I want to see if I can pry any more information out of you.'
She handed him a glass as he sat down, relaxing against the cushions.
'Pry away.' He sipped the wine and licked his lips. 'So - this wine is better because?'
'Don't change the subject. And it is better, just because you have no taste, don't blame me.' She settled down next to him on the sofa. 'So. Doctor. Where do you work?'
'I'm… Erm. I suppose you could say I work for myself. A freelance.'
'You're in private practice? That doesn't seem to be your kind of thing…'
'Oh, now you are assuming I'm a medical doctor. A good journalist shouldn't assume now, should they?'
'How do you know I'm a good journalist?'
'Oh, I bet you are. Good journalist. Good wine, good books…' He picked up the copy of "Hollywood Wives" from the table.
She tried to snatch the book from his hands, but he was too quick and moved it away from her.
'I told you, it was just for my job.'
'It's a bit too battered for that. Let's see where it falls open, shall we?'
'No!' She grabbed again and this time managed to get it from him.
He laughed. 'Oooh, touchy! Let me guess — was it at…'
She looked amazed as he continued to quote, word for word, a particularly florid passage from the book, the amazement gradually turning to arousal.
'But nawww… I'm sure you wouldn't have lingered on such an excerpt as that. She has a torrid turn of phrase, does old Jackie though, got to give her that. Quite stimulating in the right circumstances. If you are that way inclined, of course.' He sipped his wine again, looking at her over the rim of his glass.
'Are you that way inclined?' She asked.
'Ahhh, the journalist, forthright as always. Humans are so good at this, so…'
'Humans?'
He looked blank for a moment, blinked and then half smiled.
'Erm, Humans. People, mankind… You know what I mean…'
'Hmm. So — answer the question — are you that way inclined?'
'Ah.. Now that would be telling. And I seem to recall, you were the one that picked me up.'
'Now, if I recall, you used a cheesy pick up line on me first.'
'Ahh, but you actually picked me up. Etchings, remember?'
'You were the most interesting person in that gallery. You seemed like you'd be interesting, and you are. And you're attractive as well… A bonus.'
'Me?'
'You must know you are.'
He shook his head, looking slightly bewildered. 'Not something I think about, really.' He tugged at his earlobe. 'Doesn't come up very much in the circles I mix in, to be honest.'
She smiled. 'You really don't know, do you? I'd have thought you'd have a line of women outside your door.'
'Well, I've been known to have the odd woman or two. Or three. Travelled with a few people.'
‘A few people?’
‘Oh, I’ve been around a bit.’ He caught her eyeing him ‘And not in the way you’re thinking, either.’
She lent forward, her hand caressing his cheek. ‘I wasn’t thinking anything.’
He smiled. ‘Yes you were. But I meant travelling wise. Really.’
‘You feel a bit chilly — are you warm enough?’ She rubbed her thumb over his cheekbone. ‘I could turn the heating up…’ her thumb moved to brush against his bottom lip ‘Or I could warm you up another way?’
‘Another way?’ He blinked and swallowed.
She lent forward and kissed him, lightly and slowly. He seemed surprised at first but then began to respond, his mouth opening slightly, his cool tongue touching hers.
She stood and urged him to his feet, tugging at his hand. ‘This way. I think we’ll be more comfortable in here.’
She lead him through the flat to her bedroom, stopping by the bed to turn and kiss him again, the only light in the room from the open door to the hall. He responded more readily this time, pulling her closer, his mouth pressing to mouth, breaking slightly away and then returning to slip his tongue against hers. He still felt cool and to her, his mouth still tasting of wine. He pulled closer still and she could feel him hardening against her, his hands beginning to tug at her clothes, almost with a mind of their own.
'Zips at the side.' She whispered in his ear, returning to sucking and nipping at his earlobe.
She felt him trace his hand across her breast, making it's way towards the zip in her shift dress, finally finding it after some rather acceptable fumbling and drawing the tab down to undo and loosening the garment.
'Take it off.' He said quietly, standing slightly back to give her room, his eyes never leaving hers.
She pulled the dress over her head as gracefully as possible and stood in front of him in just her panties, arms at her side, waiting him to make a move.
'Now… That's beautiful. And believe me, I've seen lots of beautiful things in lots of beautiful, beautiful places and that...' he swallowed and took a step towards her, until she could feel the material of his suit against her bare skin. 'That is beautiful.'
They kissed again as she moved backwards towards the bed, pulling him with her. Falling backwards onto the bed, him on top of her, his mouth moving from hers, tracing her jaw line with kisses, down further and nipping and licking at her shoulder. Her hands moved restlessly across his shoulders, wanting him closer, pulling him as close as she could get him. He finally turned his attention and mouth to her breasts, gently pressing kisses to her flesh, taking time to suck first one and then the other hardening nipple into his mouth as he descended, his still cool tongue against her rapidly heating skin.
He was still dressed in that damn suit as his mouth moved downward, kissing over her stomach until his lips reached the top of her panties. She felt his fingers slip under the waistband and pull down, working slowly over her hips as his mouth moved lower, pressing damp kisses over her skin until he reached his destination, flicking his tongue out to taste her centre. He looked up at her; jacket still buttoned, tie askew - grinned, licked his lips and then bent his head again to continue his task. She gasped and bucked against him, hand reaching to grab a handful of his hair as his wet tongue moved across her, flickering and swirling. She pulled at his hair harder than she intended as he hit a particularly good spot and he lifted his head with a groan.
'Oi! I'm attached to that hair, you know.' He endevoured to look sternly at her, all the while trying to stifle a smile.
She tugged it again playfully and wiggled beneath him, beaming back at him.
'Ahh. Can't stay still. I see. Well, as I'm so attached to my hair and you seem to want to pull at it, I think we have a little bit of a problem here...' He knelt up, still with that smile, and started to pull at his already loose tie. 'And I certainly like to solve a problem - mind like a steel trap, me. What we need is to get those fingers of yours under control and not pulling my hair.' He gave her an almost comedic wink, pulling the tie from around his neck and leaning forward slightly. 'Well, not yet, anyway.'
She smiled as he held her hand, kissed the back and then the palm, tongue flicking to taste her skin. Then moving fast, he grabbed her other hand and raised them swiftly over her head, wrapping the tie around and pulling both wrists together loosely, before using the tie to secure them to the wooden slatted bed head. He sat back again and gave her that full impossibly wide grin she'd first seen at the gallery.
'There. Problem solved. See, I told you.' He tapped his head with his forefinger 'Steel trap.'
He took his jacket off, all the while watching her tug in a half-hearted fashion at the bindings around her wrist, and dropped it into a heap over the side of the bed. He then tugged at his shirt, already mostly out of his waistband, pulling it out completely.
'Chhh Chhh Chhh Heyyy! Watch what you're doing with that tie. One of my favourites, that is. Got it for Christmas... Didn't I? Or was it at that flea market on... Oh, I don't know. Silk.' He reached up and checked to make sure it wasn't too tight. She smiled up at him and wriggled for the effect, drawing his eyes as her breasts moved, swaying with each tug she gave.
'Although... I am liking the effect. "For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction." Never, never have I seen one of the laws of physics demonstrated so gloriously. Bet old Newton hadn't either.' He paused, thinking. 'Although he was a bit of a lad was Isaac...'
He brought his hands up, covering each breast, long fingers splayed across her skin. Her nipples hardened further, peeking out from between his index and middle fingers as he watched, fascinated.
'See. For every action...'
'Do you ever shut up?'
He dragged his attention from her breasts to see her smiling up at him. He shook his head. 'No. No I don't think I ever do. Been told that before, actually. Got a bit of a gob on me, it has to be admitted.'
'You certainly do seem to have 'A bit of a gob' on you. How's about putting it to better use?' She arched her back slightly, pushing her breasts further into his hands, and licked her lips.
‘Never does any harm to admire the laws of physics when you see them in action, I say. But you’re right. Time for a reaction…’ He squeezed her breasts lightly, then stood up, unbuttoning and slipping out off his shirt as she watched, fascinated as he lazily toed off his shoes and then slowly unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers pushing them and any underwear he might have been wearing to the floor.
Settling back between her thighs, he lowered his head until she could feel his breath against her skin, cool against her heat. He then flicked his tongue out again taking up where he had left off, causing her hips to lift up to meet him and a gasping moan to escape her. He continued to work on her, lips and tongue pressing against her, and she writhed against the covers, hands still trapped above her head, trapped and at his will. She felt his mouth settle against her clit and concentrate on swirling and sucking whilst she felt fingers press inside her, first one then he added a second and finally a third, long slim fingers moving rhythmically within her as he continued to flick his tongue against her. He picked up the pace and finally she came, her back arching, her hips rising to him, moaning and breathless.
Moving back over her body, he pressed her down into the bed, his slim hips pushing against her, his hard cock straining to meet her. She raised her knee, rubbing against his thigh, and he pressed against her again, his shaft sliding along her opening. He reached up and released her from his tie, and she smoothed a now free hand over his face, brushing the hair away from his forehead and reaching up, kissing his cool mouth. He responded, his tongue snaking out to meet hers, slowly tangling and sliding around until he kissed across her chin and down her neck, his long fingers cupping her breast and guiding her nipple to his mouth. Her fingers raked his hair as he traced round the hard tip and then sucked, his tongue continuing to flick the tip while he increased suction. Pulling his mouth away, he moved back to kiss her again, his fingers continuing to stroke around her damp nipple.
'This world is turning, spinning, hurtling through space... And it feels like just you and I, doesn't it? Right now. Just us in the entire universe. Any universe. Only us and nothing and no-one else but us.' He kissed her soundly, tongue moving against hers sinuously 'But it's not true. Not for you, anyway. You're not alone, ever, never. There are millions, billions of you. Me... There's only me' He drifted, his eyes became far away and she wondered why he looked suddenly older.
'But you're not alone. You're not. I'm here.' she stroked his hair again, nails scratching at his scalp.
'You might be here.' He stroked her face gently, tracing over her eyelids, her forehead. 'I'm still alone.'
His eyes suddenly darkened and he bent, kissing her savagely, tongue pressed into her mouth, hands moving over her body, pressing her thighs wider with his legs and thrusting hard into her body, entering her completely.
She gasped and rose to meet him, her hands pulling at his shoulders as he kept driving into her, hips moving with no finesse, no gentleness - short sharp movements, moving fast and hard. He tugged at her thigh, pulling her leg upwards, changing the angle of his thrusts and moving harder against her. Wrapping her free leg around his hip, she tried to keep up with his wild movements, raking her nails down his back and digging them into his hips. He licked the side of her neck and said something that she couldn't make out, moving impossibly faster, hitting just the right spot over and over causing her to suddenly become wide-eyed and gasping, curling up towards him as she came hard, body shuddering and clutching at him.
He slowed slightly, keeping his movements shallow but as she started to relax he picked up the pace once more, resuming his wild thrusts, pushing her down into the bed again and grinding against her. He pressed his forehead to her shoulder, gasping and chanting 'come on, come on' seemingly oblivious to her. His movements then became slower and sloppy, until suddenly he almost threw himself off her and lay on his back next to her, one arm thrown across his eyes, his cock still hard and erect.
She turned her head to look at him, watching his chest rise and fall as his breathing returned to normal.
'Are you ok?' she whispered, reaching across to touch his shoulder and saw him nod, eyes still hidden behind his arm. She paused. 'You didn't come' She rolled towards him and started to reach for him.
He moved his arm that covered his face and grabbed her wrist tightly, stopping her touching him. 'Don't. Really. Don't.'
'But...'
'But nothing. I'm fine.' He didn't look at her, keeping his eyes fixed to the ceiling, his voice a hoarse whisper, releasing her hand from his tight grip.
She lay on her side as close to him as she could get without touching him and studied his profile. He looked weary and suddenly older in some way, around his eyes and the set of his mouth. That look she'd seen earlier.
'You're not fine. Can't I help?' She hardly knew him, but there was something about him that made her want to offer whatever she could to help him.
'I don't make a habit of this, you know. I'm not some sort of sexual predator.' He barked out a humourless laugh. 'Ha, that's a laugh. Me! A sexual predator!' He scrubbed his hand over his face. 'Truth is, I haven't been with anyone for a long time. A very long time.' Turning his head, he looked at her. 'I'm sorry. I thought -- I thought I could...' He stopped and snapped his mouth shut. 'I'm sorry.'
'What happened? Did you lose someone?'
He surprised her and laughed. 'Oh, not just someone. Everyone. I lost everyone. Everything.' He looked her in the eyes. 'I thought I'd won a war, but I lost. Lost the past, the present, the future.' He swallowed. 'I lost a whole damn planet.'
She reached and touched his cheek, rubbing her thumb gently across his cool skin and he slowly blinked.
'And of course you now think I'm completely mad.' He turned to look back up at the ceiling. 'Which in some respects I most certainly am. "What am I doing in bed with this madman?" I bet that's what you're thinking right now. Am I right? I'm right, aren't I?' He turned on his side and faced her. 'You don't have to deny it. You'd probably think that of me in my best moments, let alone now. I wonder about my own sanity at times, but there again I always have - sometimes the old brain just won't stay quiet it just keeps on and on and on... all the time. Sometimes I can ignore it, but it's always there, it is always there... ' He nodded. 'And right now I bet I'm really really scaring you. I think I should leave'
He started to rise, but she grabbed his hand.
'You don't have to. Really. I'd like to help if I can. '
'You don't know me'
'I know you seem sad and lonely'
'Part of the job description'
'What?'
'Oh, nothing.' He stood up searching amongst the clothes on the floor for his trousers, finding them and then slipping them on. 'Look, I don't do this. I never do this. This- 'he spread his arms 'This is not what I do. And I'm sorry that you got caught up in my experimentation.' He picked up his shirt and started to put it on, buttoning it up swiftly.
'You think I make a habit of this?' She watched him shrug the now even more rumpled jacket on. 'You think I go to events and pick up strangely fascinating men for sex?'
'You think I'm fascinating?'
'I said strangely fascinating.'
He sat down on the edge of the bed, and pulled the sheet up over her naked body.
'I don't think you make a habit of this, no. But I've been unfair to you and you don't deserve to be pulled in any further.' He fiddled with a strand of her dark hair. 'You remind me so much of someone else and I'm afraid I tried something, something I never had the courage to do before, and it was too late. I'm so sorry I did that, so sorry.' He touched her cheek 'We could have seen so many places, you and I, so many... But it wouldn't be right. Not now.'
'You don't have to go. Really.' She tugged at his hand. 'You really are fascinating, you know. I would like to get to know you better. Try and help, find out what's going on in that head of yours.' She ran her fingers through his hair and stroked down the side of his cheek. 'Go to these places you talk about.'
'I can't do that to you…'
'Do what?' She sat up, clutching the sheet to herself.
'I've been unfair to you, I've told you. It wouldn't be right to ask you …To show you what…'
'Ask me. Show me. I want to know. There is something, isn't there?' She held his hand again. 'You say you've been unfair to me. I don't understand. Show me. Tell me why you've been unfair. Let me make up my own mind. Let me decide if you've been unfair.' She tugged his hand again until he looked at her. 'Are you married?'
He laughed, surprising her. 'No! Well, not for a good few years now.'
'So? What have you lost? Why are you so sad?' She turned and sat on the edge of the bed next to him. 'You mentioned a 'War'. What war? Have you literally been in a war or are you…'
'Shhh.'
'What?'
'You're really not going to shut up until you until I tell you, are you?'
'You don't have to tell me.'
He laughed to himself. 'Yeah. And I bet you'll let me get away with that. Talk about me having a gob… Journalists. All the same.' He looked her in the eye. 'You really want to know? You want to know about me? What I do? Where I'm from?'
She nodded, smiling encouragingly at him.
'Yes. I do. I really do find you…'
'Strangely fascinating, I know. You've told me.' He stood up, undoing the tie from the bed head and draping it round his neck, tying it in a loose messy knot. 'Come on, then. You can't go out dressed in a sheet. Well, you could, but you'd look a bit odd. Very nice. But odd.'
'What?'
'You want to know. I'll show you. You're right. You should be able to decide for yourself.' He turned back, looking at her sitting on the edge of the bed, sheet slipping down, a shocked look on her face. He tried to smooth the creases from his jacket and failed.
'Come on — Chop, chop!! Time waits for no man and all that.' He began to button up his jacket. 'Well, it waits for me, but that's something we can discuss later…' He started to leave the bedroom. 'You coming? I'm not seeing any movement… C'mon! Places to go, people to see, wonders to… wonder.'
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and bounced out of the room, leaving her to stare at the door, his voice drifting back.
'Oh, yes…So very, very many wonders to wonder…'
Tuesday, 26 May 2009
Arrghhh!
Just to say I am still here. I feel need to write ranting, ridiculous blog about all the things I cannot change or have, but don't have the energy. Haven't felt this bad for months and I'm bloody angry. Ahh well. Maybe will post in day or two when I have more time and perhaps have calmed down somewhat. Not that anyone is reading, but spilling guts on here is good, I guess!
Sunday, 12 April 2009
I was going to say three times in a day...
But it's now the next day, it seems. Well, I mean it's today and not yesterday, as oppose to today and tomorrow... and you can tell it's after midnight, can't you?
Cold not much better, but at least I can breathe a bit. Boring day didn't get much better, only bright spot was leftover chinese and the audio commentary for DW on BBC Three. although even parts of that were a bit boring 'Sand sand sand... Bus bus bus... Sand sand sand...' but some bits were quite fun - Tennant obviously stuffing his face whilst there and his much discussed big Tina Turner wig hair.
After that thought I'd come back to bed because I'd obviously not been in bed enough today and have laid here ever since, tired but unable to sleep and watching ABBA night on five. Well, I say watching, glancing up at a very snowy and dreadful picture and listening to the music. Feel I should be doing something intellectual and uplifting before returning to work on Tues, but not sure that will happen. So much for a great week off - two good days out of ten is not really a good record!
Is it wrong/sad that the most exciting thing that happened all week was nearly getting on the quiz on Mr Tennant's Radio 2 stint on Saturday? Heck, even I think it is!!
Cold not much better, but at least I can breathe a bit. Boring day didn't get much better, only bright spot was leftover chinese and the audio commentary for DW on BBC Three. although even parts of that were a bit boring 'Sand sand sand... Bus bus bus... Sand sand sand...' but some bits were quite fun - Tennant obviously stuffing his face whilst there and his much discussed big Tina Turner wig hair.
After that thought I'd come back to bed because I'd obviously not been in bed enough today and have laid here ever since, tired but unable to sleep and watching ABBA night on five. Well, I say watching, glancing up at a very snowy and dreadful picture and listening to the music. Feel I should be doing something intellectual and uplifting before returning to work on Tues, but not sure that will happen. So much for a great week off - two good days out of ten is not really a good record!
Is it wrong/sad that the most exciting thing that happened all week was nearly getting on the quiz on Mr Tennant's Radio 2 stint on Saturday? Heck, even I think it is!!
Easter Day...
And I'm in bed, sneezing and snuffling and blocked up - you really needed to know that, didn't you? - and I can't decide if it's the normal 'sinuses from Hell' thing or a 'You have a crappy cold, live with it' thing. It could, of course, be a horrible hybrid of the two which would be just my luck.
Anyways, it's Choc day and I've started on some nice eggs. Quality Street first, chunky Kit Kat next. Most other relatives/friends are away for Easter, so just me and Beckett here. Not that he's much fun and he didn't buy me an egg, ungratful furball. So, I'm in bed, sneezing and eating choc and watching nothing on the TV, be cause there is nothing on. Really nothing. It's a holidaand nothing on the telly! Not even an old time biblical epic, that would make me sniffle thinking of my dear old Mum who loved those films so very much. Eastenders, nope. A western... nope. Can't see Channel five in here, reception is crap, but it seems it's Joe vs the volcano. nope. Smallville... Oh no. Nope. So it's stick with Groundhog Day for now I think. I have seen it before, though...
God, the constant whirl and excitement of my life. How DO I cope?!
Anyways, it's Choc day and I've started on some nice eggs. Quality Street first, chunky Kit Kat next. Most other relatives/friends are away for Easter, so just me and Beckett here. Not that he's much fun and he didn't buy me an egg, ungratful furball. So, I'm in bed, sneezing and eating choc and watching nothing on the TV, be cause there is nothing on. Really nothing. It's a holidaand nothing on the telly! Not even an old time biblical epic, that would make me sniffle thinking of my dear old Mum who loved those films so very much. Eastenders, nope. A western... nope. Can't see Channel five in here, reception is crap, but it seems it's Joe vs the volcano. nope. Smallville... Oh no. Nope. So it's stick with Groundhog Day for now I think. I have seen it before, though...
God, the constant whirl and excitement of my life. How DO I cope?!
Planet of the dead
Well... Can't say I LOVED it, but maybe that is something to do with the fact I have been kept waiting far too long for a DW fix this year that I built up too much expectation. Or maybe down to the fact that Lady Bionic Catsuit quite annoyed me in many ways. She was, as she was at pains to point out endlessly, too perfect and a bit of a ripped page from the 'This is what a companion should be like' rulebook. A posh Rose? Rusty couldn't use her, so lets put in the basic model and tweak it a bit? It might not be a popular view (I know my Rose dislike puts me in a minority) but that's a bit what she felt like to me.
Malcolm, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways... Just the fact that you made me forget that I really don't like Lee Evans as a stand up AT ALL should be a good enough reason, but then he has to go and chant 'I love you!' at the Doctor in a complete fanboy worship moment that just made you want to go up and cuddle them both. Yes, Grand Moff, Malcolm should return.
I actually liked the Doctor during the chop conversation, how he finds humans endlessly fascinating and the very mundane and small facts of their lives, how they count days and time, gives him some kind of sense of joy. I do love a happy, bouncy, clever Doctor, the cleverest man in the room, dazzling everyone with his charm and brains and fantastic hair. But I also love the fact that he is then in turn a dark, morose, sometimes cold Doctor battling his own internal demons, seemingly wanting to die at times but still fearing it when told his song will soon end.
David Tennant - is it wrong to want to tie him to this role and not let him go? (I know it's not wrong to want to tie him to a bed but I'm trying to be good...) I know it is wrong, because he is so much more than The Doctor, but for this old time Who fan, he's perfect in the role. I know some don't go for his wild-eyed, big haired Doctor, but he's made it his own. As I said yesterday, Tom Baker traumatised me as a girl when he left and I'm sadly feeling the same way as the big grown up girl I am now. I forsee a very sniffly New year when Mr Tennant finally regens.
*Editing to fix my stuff up on Martha and UNIT - I had completely forgotten she had been meant to be going to TW. I am useless and stupid fangirl and I hang my head in shame!*
Malcolm, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways... Just the fact that you made me forget that I really don't like Lee Evans as a stand up AT ALL should be a good enough reason, but then he has to go and chant 'I love you!' at the Doctor in a complete fanboy worship moment that just made you want to go up and cuddle them both. Yes, Grand Moff, Malcolm should return.
I actually liked the Doctor during the chop conversation, how he finds humans endlessly fascinating and the very mundane and small facts of their lives, how they count days and time, gives him some kind of sense of joy. I do love a happy, bouncy, clever Doctor, the cleverest man in the room, dazzling everyone with his charm and brains and fantastic hair. But I also love the fact that he is then in turn a dark, morose, sometimes cold Doctor battling his own internal demons, seemingly wanting to die at times but still fearing it when told his song will soon end.
David Tennant - is it wrong to want to tie him to this role and not let him go? (I know it's not wrong to want to tie him to a bed but I'm trying to be good...) I know it is wrong, because he is so much more than The Doctor, but for this old time Who fan, he's perfect in the role. I know some don't go for his wild-eyed, big haired Doctor, but he's made it his own. As I said yesterday, Tom Baker traumatised me as a girl when he left and I'm sadly feeling the same way as the big grown up girl I am now. I forsee a very sniffly New year when Mr Tennant finally regens.
*Editing to fix my stuff up on Martha and UNIT - I had completely forgotten she had been meant to be going to TW. I am useless and stupid fangirl and I hang my head in shame!*
Saturday, 11 April 2009
Your song will soon end...
No. Sorry. Not allowed.
I've decided that Mr Tennant cannot leave Doctor Who. The trauma from the childhood loss of Tom Baker was too awful and to lose another perfect Doctor is too much of a price to pay.
I won't have it, do you hear? I won't have it!!
I've decided that Mr Tennant cannot leave Doctor Who. The trauma from the childhood loss of Tom Baker was too awful and to lose another perfect Doctor is too much of a price to pay.
I won't have it, do you hear? I won't have it!!
Tuesday, 24 March 2009
Still updating...
I'm doing well!
Although there is no reason for this update at all. I should be getting to sleep, but I'm not, I'm looking at the lovely Peter, being very lovely and making me quite stupid about his hair and general sexiness. Please see exhibit A =
Actually, I shouldn't do that, as I could go through the whole alphabet. So just one more. Or maybe two...
Although there is no reason for this update at all. I should be getting to sleep, but I'm not, I'm looking at the lovely Peter, being very lovely and making me quite stupid about his hair and general sexiness. Please see exhibit A =
Actually, I shouldn't do that, as I could go through the whole alphabet. So just one more. Or maybe two...
Friday, 20 March 2009
Saturday, 14 March 2009
Red Noses and white suits...
So I went to Red Nose night at BBC TV centre - after a pretty nasty journey, where my poor foot decided 'That is enough walking up and down stairs now, thank you very much!' and then having to stand in a queue for over three hours, I got into see the lovely one himself being lovely and wearing a very pretty and becoming suit. Under the studio lights, it looked dazzling white, but it seems it actually was white with red pinstripes. Whatever, it was a very fetching sight and I was highly taken with him, which is unusual for me. And as for his thighs and rear bumper... Well, most know my feelings about them, but let me just say again - Best in the business. How a man as slim has he is has such bounty, I don't know, but he has.
Of course, he was a natural presenter as I think we all knew he would be. He was especially good with the children they had on stage, saying thank you to each one individually and shaking hands with them in a delightfully formal manner. He was obviously having a good time, dancing if there was some good music on with some of the films and watching others when not being talked to by floor managers. As I said, he was a natural and I think he's got a future in show business ;-)
The very lovely one in the pristine white suit. Wouldn't you just love to get it a bit grubby? I know I would...
Of course, he was a natural presenter as I think we all knew he would be. He was especially good with the children they had on stage, saying thank you to each one individually and shaking hands with them in a delightfully formal manner. He was obviously having a good time, dancing if there was some good music on with some of the films and watching others when not being talked to by floor managers. As I said, he was a natural and I think he's got a future in show business ;-)
The very lovely one in the pristine white suit. Wouldn't you just love to get it a bit grubby? I know I would...
Sunday, 8 March 2009
Feeling blah...
Have managed to do nothing this weekend, foot still playing up, flat a dump and Beckett being moany. I've had some nice news that I have a ticket for Red Nose at the Beeb, but am worried about getting there and the like with my foot/leg at the mo. Also that I'll get there and the queue will be bad and not worth going. I'm such a worrywort!
Wednesday, 4 March 2009
Sad...
That I would think about this so much, really it is. But I saw the lyrics of Nature Boy today, linked to Ten. And I thought 'Oh, yes. That's so fitting.' But it is, it really is. Soooo.. Here are the lyrics. Just in case anyone should pop in and want to read.
There was a boy, a very strange enchanted boy.
They say he wandered very far, very far
over land and sea.
A little shy and sad of eye,
but very wise was he.
And then one day, one magic day,
he passed my way
and while he spoke of many things,
fools and kings, this he said to me,
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn
is just to love and be lovedin return."
There was a boy, a very strange enchanted boy.
They say he wandered very far, very far
over land and sea.
A little shy and sad of eye,
but very wise was he.
And then one day, one magic day,
he passed my way
and while he spoke of many things,
fools and kings, this he said to me,
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn
is just to love and be lovedin return."
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