Summary: A good friend game me this prompt a long time ago. The title says it all.
“Really?” You shout, hoping he can catch the note of incredulity in the word over the blaring rap music and screams of nearby rollercoaster riders.
David simply nods and gives you another push in the direction of the open doors. “Go on, I’ll catch you up.” His grin and wink promise something else, but you can’t figure out what, and he’s already turning away from you, moving to speak to the surly attendant who looks as though he’s indulged in a little too much of the fried foods and salt water taffy over the years.
Sighing, you walk through the narrow entrance into the dingy mirror maze. Your feet echo hollowly on the metal grates of the flooring, one hand thrust out forward, as though you were feeling your way in the dark. Something moves in your peripheral vision and your head whips around, only to find that it’s you, reflected a thousand times over, looking confused and somewhat annoyed. You sigh and trudge on further into the maze. The second time you hit a dead end there’s a loud slam! far to the left of you, and the rowdy noises of the fair become muted and distant. Another nearby movement has you spinning again, forcing you to come face-to-face with another reflection of yourself, torso comically elongated and head a tiny, distorted speck on narrow shoulders. The yellow fluorescents dim to almost nothing, colored strobe lights replace them, adding to the surrealism of the whole experience. A second set of footsteps begin to echo through the maze, and you begin to backtrack to the direction they seem to be coming from. You call out David’s name, your eyes held wide, searching for his reflection somewhere in the multitudes of yous. The strobes make your movements appear halted and jerky, your stride, no doubt, exaggeratedly large as your body tries to make up for what your brain seems to think is happening. You’re a little bit frightened as David refuses to answer your calls, and the fact that you’re frightened makes you angry, and your tread becomes heavy as you stomp through the maze, filled with a new determination to throttle him the second you finally locate him.
You sense something new in your periphery, but refuse to attempt to locate its source, sure that it’s just another funhouse version of yourself. You hit a wall of glass when his hands wrap around your middle and you scream, the sound bouncing and echoing theatrically off the multitudes of smooth, flat surfaces. His mouth is on your neck as his hips press you forward against the cool wall. Spinning in his arms, you land a well-aimed punch to his shoulder. “What is wrong with you?!”
David winces, but continues pressing forward, his knee settling between your thighs as his mouth grazes along your collarbone. “I thought it would be romantic.” His lips tickle against your skin as he speaks.
“Romantic?! It smells like piss and corndogs, and I was scared for my life not a second ago, in what way was thisromantic?” Your words are meant to convey the level of your disapproval, but gradually lose their heat as his hands slide under your shirt and his knee grinds up between your legs.
His warm breath puffs across your neck as he chuckles. “Maybe romantic was the wrong word, but it’s certainly…different.”
You scoff but don’t dispute this as his fingers slip under the fabric of your bra to knead the mound of flesh and then tweak a nipple. His lips finally find yours, his mouth tasting like cotton candy, all sweetness and delicate softness, in stark contrast to the rest of him, which seems to be filled with a sense of hungry urgency. Your hands mirror that urgency, finding the bulge at the front of his jeans and pressing, toying with the zipper until he’s growling and pawing at your shorts, shoving the fabric roughly over your hips and plunging a hand into your panties. You allow your head to fall back as his fingers work you mercilessly, bringing you the edge and then easing you back, again and again, until you’re whimpering, your words a strange mish-mash of begging, cursing, and pleading. When he removes his hand you’re trembling, a sharp cry that somehow coveys both desperation and relief escapes you before his fingers find your lips and push past them, forcing you to taste your arousal coating his fingers, mixed slightly with the memory of cotton candy on his lips.
The intermittent flash of the strobe lights reveals David’s eyes to be nearly pitch black with desire, glued to your mouth sucking and pulling on his fingers, tongue teasing and rasping over the tips, tracing the whorls of his fingerprints and making sure that every trace of your essence is cleaned from his skin. When you stop to pull back, he groans, brow knitted, and pushes his fingers forward again, his hips bucking against you, seemingly of their own accord. You smile around his hand and reach down to fumble with the button on his jeans, struggling to push the heavy fabric over his narrow hips. David jolts as if just awakened and then moves to help you, swatting your hands out of the way and divulging himself of pants and boxers in one smooth motion. Your shorts and undergarments are next, flung down to the filthy floor, which would make you cringe normally, but with David’s arms lifting you up, positioning himself between your legs, it seems less and less important.
You wrap your legs around his waist just as he slides his length into you, making both of you gasp. He holds himself there, both of you shifting as you struggle to find a comfortable way to make this work. You discover that the small hall you’re in is narrow enough that if you stretch your legs out, the tips of your sneakers can reach the mirrored wall on the other side. You steady yourself and David begins moving, achingly slow at first, nails digging into your bottom as he holds you against him. Your nails find the back of his head, scratching the short hair at his nape, and he moans as his hips pick up the tempo. You venture a look over his shoulder, startled to find yourself reflected back infinitely, your lips swollen, hair tousled, panting wantonly as David moves, thrusts deep and sure, against you. Seeing yourself this way is off-putting so you turn your head to the right, simply to find the same again, only this time from the side, more intriguing this way since you can see the muscles in David’s thighs shifting under his skin as his hips move, watch his length moving in and out of you. It’s like some weird exhibitionism, except it’s you that’s watching, and does that make you narcissistic? You slide your hand down David’s arm, trail it over your stomach and over your chest, pushing your shirt up over your breasts. The thousands of reflections mimic your movements and you’re captivated. David moves faster, thrusts become sharper as he hits that sweet spot inside you that has you throwing your head back and moaning unreservedly.
“No, watch.” David breathes, voice deep and husky.
Your eyes flutter open to stare once again at this flushed and panting porn star that is apparently you, just as one of David’s hands moves between your thighs, finding your swollen nub and circling it with his thumb. The woman in the mirror’s mouth falls open, her eyes half open as she moans and begs the man fucking her to make her come. You watch his hand move faster and it’s as if the millions of reflections amplify the sensation, a tingling warmth that shoots through your limbs and then circles back to center at the spot where your bodies meet and you’re screaming his name, and the woman in the mirror’s limbs are trembling with the force of it, a hand flying up to twist in her hair as she climaxes, the man’s stuttering thrusts indicating that he had reached his own, as well.
As you float back down to yourself, you become mildly embarrassed of the fact that you had been staring at yourself for so long (and gotten off on it). You turn away from your reflection and kiss David, who laughs as though he understands what you’re trying to do. “Now you saw what I get to see.” He gives you one more quick peck on the mouth and lowers you down on knees that tremble ever so slightly. When you’re both decent, you make your way (finally) out of the maze back out into the bright, loud midway, where David asks you to wait a quick minute as he runs back to the attendant. David shakes the man’s hand and says something, the man laughs and looks around David to smile and wave at you, making you flush with embarrassment. As David jogs back to you, you slap him on the arm petulantly. “What did you just tell him?”
David smiles and snatches your hand, tugging you back toward the main area of the fairgrounds. “I was telling him thank you.”
“For what?”
David shrugs. “I paid him to close the maze for me. Best money spent all night.”
Pairing: David/you
Word count: 633
Summary: David is called back on set, but when he comes home he's still in character. You decide to have fun with it.
Author: behindmyrestingface
You get closer and ask if he’s been called back on set for something, but he gives you that well known Doctorish “what?”. “Oh, c’mon, stop it!” you say, stepping closer to hug him and give him a kiss. He takes a step back and pulls out his glasses, puts them on and then looks at you as if you’re some sort of alien. He makes a circle around you, still staring. He takes out his sonic screwdriver, points it at you and turns it on. You smile and decide to play along saying in a seductive lusty voice “sonic me Doctor”.
Seconds later, after he raised his left eyebrow, you slowly pulled down the zipper on your hoodie and let it fall on the floor, revealing your breasts in a lacy black bra. Then you bent down and took off your sweat pants and are now only in your underwear in front of “the Doctor”.
Watching you undress slowly in front of him, caused “the Doctor” to have a bulge in those tight trousers. You walked up to him, cupped him through the pants and smiled wickedly at him. In surprise he dropped his sonic to the ground. Next you took his hand, guided him to the sofa and sat him down. You straddled his lap, unbuttoned the suit jacket and loosened up his swirly tie while kissing him.
You pulled out of the kiss, got off him and standing in front of him you put your hands on both his legs, sliding them from the knee upwards and back, before you spread his legs further, kneel in between them and start undoing his fly. A second later you dig your hands into his boxers, gently grabbing hold of his erection and freeing it.
Holding it firmly, yet gently you welcome it into your warm mouth, beginning to pleasure “the Doctor”. You lick and suck intensely while caressing his thigh with your free hand. His breathing is heavy; he cocks his head back and moans loudly. You feel he’s close, so you take his erection into your mouth fully, as deep as possible. A deep “Oh!” escapes him and you pull out a bit, swirling your tongue over the tip, and in a few seconds he spills into your mouth almost yelling something that sounded like “holy Gallifrey!”.
You get up on the sofa, sit next to him, smiling, as you play with his hair on the back of this neck. Suddenly he tackles you onto the sofa, takes his glasses off, and pulls down your panties, sending them flying through the air before they land and hook on the edge of the TV.
Moments later “the Doctor” buries his head in between your legs, doing what he loves – licking; tasting you with his tongue and lips; sucking in every drop of your sweet juice. Your hands fist in the sofa and clench the pillows under your head while you moan loudly. He sucks your clit hard, making your orgasm wash over you and you scream “Doctor” ending it in a high note you never knew you could reach.
Panting loudly, you lower your gaze and see him kissing his way up gently, and then he places one on your slightly parted lips. You put your legs around his waist tightly; locking him in that position, with your arms around him as he rests his head on your breasts.
Summary: Rose is starting to like this whole “regeneration” thing. Takes place after “The Parting of the Ways.”
Author: anonymous
It had been merely an hour after defeating the Daleks, and yet Rose and the Doctor were off adventuring again. In some rational part of her brain, Rose knew that now should be a time of slowness, a time of mourning, but instead both she and the Doctor were moving in a whirl of energy, each movement quick and frenzied as they piloted the TARDIS, changing destination every minute or so as some exciting new locale crossed their minds. Rose was still buzzing from her stint as the Bad Wolf. The entity was gone now, but just the mere memory of the power that had flowed through her made her heart jump and adrenaline rush. She felt overflowing with potential and couldn’t hold still, fingers flying across the TARDIS’s control panel with a confidence she had never felt before. The Doctor worked beside her with equal energy, riding off a high from his recent regeneration.
Rose shot a sideways glance at the Doctor as she thought back to the regeneration. She’d always thought losing the Doctor would be a sad experience, but instead her memories made her head spin as she recalled the soft feeling of the Doctor’s lips against hers. She knew he was just trying to transfer the Bad Wolf energy into himself, but after traveling with the Doctor for so long, she couldn’t fight the feeling that the action had meant something more. She hoped that the strange new man working beside her thought so, anyway.
The Doctor’s new regeneration made Rose feel weird. He was no longer the serious man with a secret smile she’d come to love, but instead a skinny young thing who bounced across the TARDIS with the broadest smile she’d ever seen. And now he wore suits! What a thought, the Doctor, a time-traveling space alien, in a pinstriped suit!
Not that it was a bad thing, the suit. Rose couldn’t help but bite her lip as she watched her new Doctor bound across the TARDIS in those pinstriped pants that fit him so well. She’s miss the old regeneration all right, but there was a certain energy between herself and this new Doctor that made Rose catch her breath. Like that hair, for instance, wildly spraying out from his head and practically begging for her to run her hands through it. And that neck, she could just cover in kisses and bury her head into his shoulder as those new long fingers played around her waist…
When the Doctor turned to look at her, brown eyes dancing with regeneration energy, Rose swore the Bad Wolf took her over again. Little old Rose Tyler Who Worked In a Shop would never have grabbed a man by the lapels of his suit like she just did, or slam him into the wall with cheerful abandon, and Rose Tyler, Boring Shopgirl, would certainly never just put her hands on a man’s face and pull him in for a kiss, especially a kiss that started with tongue and ended with her hands knotted firmly in that glorious head of hair. This woman, who had now abandoned the Doctor’s moaning lips in favor of that smooth warm neck, must have been Bad Wolf Rose, Destroyer of Daleks Rose, the Rose who had traveled through time and space and Talked Back To Aliens Just Cause She Could. Because she had never felt such a burst of confidence towards the man who she had kissed just once.
Not that the Doctor minded, of course, letting out little yelps as Rose worked her way down his neck and to the chest she was now exposing as her hands fumbled around coat buttons.
“Wait, let me do that for you,” the Doctor managed to get out, but Rose had already left it for bigger and better things that did not have to be freed by buttons, but by a single zipper. The excitement of Rose wrapping her hand around his length is heightened when the Doctor finally figures out what to do with those long fingers of his, slipping under her panties and between her legs. Rose buried her head into the Doctor’s shoulder to try and hide the sound she made in response to that delightful thing he was doing with two of his fingers, and then began to move her hand rhythmically so that it was the Doctor’s turn to moan into her neck. They worked together like that, the Doctor and Rose in the TARDIS, grinding and sighing and kissing like the world was about to end, when finally, in a burst of frantic movement, they both let out entirely too loud cries that had been building up inside the two of them, honestly, since the first time the Doctor had grabbed Rose’s hand and told her to run.
Blinking contentedly into the new brown eyes of the Doctor, so bright and overflowing with excitement, Rose thought that this regeneration was really starting to grow on her.
If you’re talking about older stories that other people submitted, I’m sorry but they died with the old blog. :((( if it’s my older stuff….i haven’t moved it over yet.
Clara mewled and moaned, fingers yanking on tangled brown locks, her face flushed. When she dug her heels into his backside in an attempt to speed him along, he pulled back slightly, enough so that she growled in frustration. Literally growled, like an untamed animal.
Large brown eyes flew open, locking on his; in them a mixture of anger, frustration, and the smallest traces of exasperated amusement. “For the love of everything, Doctor, just –,“ she gasped, rolling her hips in such a way that he nearly lost hold of his tedious control and really let her have it. “Please.”
Slowing down so much now that Clara threw her head back with an anguished, needy sob, the Doctor leaned low over their joined bodies. His tongue traced over her upper lip and the miniscule beads of sweat gathered there. Voice breathy and dangerous, he threw her earlier words back at her.
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