![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Courting Donna - Part 4
Author: Callisto Shampoo
Rating: I think any one who is reading knows what is coming... eventually LOL
Length: 2600
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Jack Harkness/Donna/Jack Sparrow
Genre/Category: humour, sex
Warnings: Sex, threesome, AU.
Spoilers: Yeah, starts off after the last episode with Donna at the end of season ... um.. four?
Summary: Donna meets a handsome stranger in a pub. Things get stranger.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
DON'T BOTHER TO READ UNLESS YOU HAVE READ PARTS ONE AND TWO. IT LEADS STRAIGHT ON.
“You talk too much,” she said before she did, pressing her mouth against hers and taking the time to explore the corners of his mouth before she deepened the kiss. He kept his hands still on her waist as she took her pleasure of him. He let himself fall… back into the bed. She laughed as they crashed together, and he pushed her legs down so she was flush against him.
“Now that’s what I call takin’ charge,” he drawled as she began to nibble his jaw, finding his secret spot way too fast. “Whoa! It takes people ages…” he gritted his teeth as she tickled it with her tongue. He gargled for a while instead of speaking, gave upon verbalisation altogether and put both hands on her butt cheeks and turned his face to kiss her.
“Listen, Captain Beard-rash, pirate of the nether seas, you can keep that gravely chin of yours…” she was talking again. He tightened his grip, and flipped her over, pinning her into the bed. The entire boat rocked.
“Now that’s more like it,” she breathed deeply against him, pressing her belly and chest against him. He stopped her talking the old fashioned way. She tasted like gin and tonic, making him thirsty. He raised his weight with his knees and elbows, so she wouldn’t be too crushed, but her hands pulled him back down against her, guiding his pelvis against hers. His appreciation for her was already hard, and the friction between them was mind melting. She met each of his kisses, demanding more every time. She hooked her ankles around his back again, and pushed against him. He was hot. Too hot. He wanted to take his shirt off, or at least his jacket. He pulled himself out of his reach, kneeling between her thighs to take off the jacket. Her eyes were mossy, and her gaze was explored the line of him under his shirt. She could take it off him, he decided, crashing back onto his elbow above her, when she was ready. He just had to make her want to. She circumvented the whole decision by sliding her hands under his shirt while his mouth went back to hers. Her hands were always so cold! He shuddered over her while her fingers slid along his rib cage, then she ground her palms into his pectorals. He nested his hips against hers again, still drowning in the taste of her.
He rested on one elbow while he explored her curves with his hand, the way her breast fit perfectly into his palm, the softness of her skin and the unwelcome distraction of clothes. He hooked a finger into her jeans and slid his hand around, exploring the softness of her skin. She writhed under his hands as his fingers moved back to her breast. He wanted to slip his hand under her shirt, but he hesitated, unsure for a brief second whether he wanted to lead her more. Already he felt guilty that he was taking control; pushing his own will onto her.
“Stop thinking, and snog me!” she said in frustration. He grinned. He had been staring into her eyes again, lost in their depths. And the sensations his hands were exploring.
“Fine,” he said with a sigh, “Demanding woman,” he said, admiration in his voice.
“I’m sure we don’t have much time,” she said, lying back in the bed. “Take your shirt off,” she instructed. He paused, but then knelt back and ripped it off and flung it somewhere. He didn’t know where; his eyes were trapped.
“Tit for tat,” he dared, the challenge alight in his eyes.
“Does that make me the tit or the tat,” she griped. “Take it off me. I dare ya,” she said, and tried to clamp her arms against her ribs. Her eyes were laughing, and she was biting her lip. He stayed above her, his hands spread in the air as he surveyed the giggling red head beneath him.
“Defiant to the end?” he asked.
“This is the end?” she said in mock disappointment. “And I thought there would be some… big… climax….” She laughed, a free and happy sound which made him join in.
“You doubt me again?” he asked, scooping his arms down, between her legs and under her buttocks and supporting her back as he lifted her. “You should know better than that, surely,” he dumped her on her belly across the bed in front of him.
“If you’re as strong as you seem to be, we might never get out of this bed room,” she threw her head back as he straddled her butt. She put her arms forward to try and lift their weight. He waited a second; the rock of the boat helped him as he crushed her back into the bed and they rolled so she was on top of him again. His hands grasped her shirt at her waist, and pulled up. Before she could even stop him, it was over her head and gone to the same place as his shirt.
“That wasn’t playing fair,” she grinned as she turned over on top of him. He took in the creamy curves and lacy green bra.
“Fair? We have to be fair?” he asked, and stretched out under her. He folded his hands behind his head.
“This is like riding a pony,” she said as she found her balance.
“A horse, thank you,” he said, and then she threw her head back to laugh.
“I knew you would say that,” she said, her hands now at her belt. He bucked, and she tightened her thighs around him.
“I was a champion at the pony club,” she giggled. “Never been thrown by a pony ever,” she said.
“I’m not a pony –,” he tried to say as her hands pulled his belt buckle open, and then went to his fly. “Donna –,” he yelped and grabbed her wrists.
“Am I going too fast for you, big boy?” she paused. Her eyes were quizzical. She wasn’t sure if she should be jesting or serious, and he wasn’t sure either.
“Donna,” he ground his teeth in frustration. “You make me… everything and nothing,” he said. She let a hand stroke his erection.
“Sure this needs to be free,” she cocked her head, her humour returning. “I can think of a few good uses for a truncheon like this…” she giggled, blushing. He didn’t move, so she wriggled forward a few inches. If it wasn’t for far too many pairs of jeans, they could have been…
“Donna!” he couldn’t think. His grip on her wrists tightened. She bit her lip again, her eyes fastened on his, and began to lean back, using his grip on her as the balance point. If he let go she would fall. She was sliding the junction of her thighs along his erection in a long, slow, sinuous grind. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back as he enjoyed the tease. If he’d known she was such a tease he’d have hugged her much more tightly on the TARDIS.
“I can slow down if you like, big boy,” she threatened. He turned his head, unable to respond. She started to slide backwards.
“Donna,” he rasped. “Kiss me, dammit,” he turned to her and opened his eyes. She looked at her wrists, still firmly trapped in his. He had forgotten, and let go. Her fingers had caused white marks, which turned quickly red. “Donna, I’m sorry,” he sain in genuine horror. She shrugged as she lay down across him.
“I’ve got fair skin. It happens more often than you would think.” Now she was gentle, taking the time to run her fingertips from his cleft along his jaw line before following the trail with kisses. He caught a finger in his mouth and sucked it, ticking the tip with his tongue before sucking it deep into his mouth. She closed her eyes and moaned. Delighted to find a weak point on her, he began to make love to her fingers with his tongue, taking two fingers deep into his mouth, and then three.
“Gawds, flyboy,” she moaned. “I don’t know how you do it, but you’re doing it,” she let her head fall to his shoulder while she gave herself over to him. His hand reached up to cup her face again, and his thumb smoothed her lower lip while he twisted his tongue between her fingers, again and again.
“Call me Jack,” he suggested. Her eyes were closed, but she jerked as though he had surprised her.
“You talk too much,” she said, pulling her fingers from his mouth and pressing her own to his. She tried to make him roll over, but he resisted for a moment, until she began to dig her nails into his biceps. He gave in, settling himself right where he wanted to be, firmly between her thighs. He began to explore the bra, feeling the sleek material and the warmth within. He arched over her slowly, kissing her with all seriousness and wondering where this might be leading them. Her hands were firm on his flesh, leaving hot trails. Her hands had finally warmed up, and she lightly traced the play of muscle along his shoulders and back. She was warm and receptive to him, accepting every thrust of his tongue and lick of pleasure. The boat rocked around them. His slid his fingers under the strap of her bra, and then around and unhooked the bra with one hand. She stopped kissing him and blinked at him for a second.
He went to continue their kiss, but she turned away.
“Stop,” she said.
“What?” he said in surprise, freezing instantly.
“Stop.” He blinked back at her, bit his lip and rolled off her, falling off the bed and landing with a crash. “Dammit,” he put a hand to his head. Her concerned face appeared above him.
“You alright down there?” she asked, breathless.
“I’m fine,” he grumbled.
“You don’t look fine,” she said, surveying the mess of him. The space was so cramped he had one foot on the bed, his head was at an odd angle, and he was half leaning against a set of drawers.
“Okay, so that was probably the most graceless exit off a bed I have ever managed,” he said, closing his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, she had hooked her bra back up. Sudden fear overwhelmed him. He had gone too far. Was she upset? Angry? Afraid? He heard the chattering of something distant.
“Donna?” he said.
“I … ah… maybe I was … hmm,” she muttered, disappearing from view as she went to find her shirt. She was turned away, pulling it over her head as he pulled himself up. The voices he could hear were important, but something else was far more important.
“Are you angry with me?” he asked softly as he tried to spot his own clothes. She shook her head, but still would not look at him. “Is my shirt over there too?” he asked, hoping the mundane question would make her face him. She found it at her feet, and threw it to him, turning to do so. She didn’t look angry. She looked aroused. Her eyes were intense, and her mouth rich raspberry red. She shook her head. She looked him up and down, and ran both hands through her hair.
“Are you?” she asked. He cocked his head at her.
“No. Should I be?” he frowned. His erection might drive him crazy in the next twenty-four hours, but that was is problem. He pulled the shirt on over him. He was still breathing too quickly. He tried to slow it down, uncertain of what had triggered the abrupt change of plans.
“I’m sorry,” he said once he was dressed. She was still avoiding looking at him. “I went too far, too fast.”
“I feel so stupid,” she admitted, lifting the curtain nearest her to look out the window. “I just..”
“It’s fine,” he said. “It happens sometimes.”
“Not usually to you, eh flyboy?” she asked with a semblance of herself. He ran a hand through his hair and was pleased his breath was even again already.
“Well…. It does happen,” he said, his brain catching up with him. “Oh dear God, did I really hear that?” he dropped back to the floor, and pressed his ear to the wooden panelling.
“What?” Donna knelt on the bed to lean over and see what he was doing. “What are you doing?”
“I heard more singing. About rum,” he said as he pressed the panels, wondering if any were lose. Donna laughed in genuine amusement.
“You really are quite an unusual man,” she said thoughtfully. He grinned up at her.
“I’m one of a kind,” he said, getting back to his feet. “Let’s check out the engine room. The lower I got, the clearer it was. And I have all my equipment here too,” he stretched and grinned. "Tell me I’m a god,” he said, wishing his erection was so easy to instruct.
“You’re a god,” she said, staring at his belly. He pulled his shirt back down, feeling oddly vulnerable. His mouth was still kiss swollen and he rubbed at his face.
“Coffee? Water?” he asked as he passed through the galley to the living area. The tangle of tech was pulled into more useful pieces, and he began to set up the calibrations unit.
“What’s that then?” she settled on the couch on the far side of the wires and boxes. He felt a moment of pain that she hadn’t chosen to sit next to him, but tried to dismiss that too. His heart was hurting. Had he just lost her? Without even seeing it coming? Had he blown everything?
“The chronocalibration unit? It picks out weirdness in the timelines. Timey wimey stuff, I guess,” he said, shooting her a glance to see if she recognized the phrase. She still looked blank, flushed and completely desirable. He wanted to lick the corners of her mouth and then plunder her for everything he could get. This mile was taking years to run. “It’ll tell us where to pick up the strongest time disturbance, and then maybe we can do something about our drunk, ghostly friend.”
“Do what?” she asked, reaching out to touch one of the boxes. He had already hooked it up to some of the other units.
“Well, even just talking to him might help. Or perhaps send him home. Or bring him through to here. His presence is causing problems in time and relative dimensions on earth.” He wondered if any of this would trigger any thing in her memories. She didn’t look interested or anything. He focused on the work at hand. Otherwise he’d just sit here, a stew of hormones and desire, imagining every inch of her fair skin and red hair until she slapped him awake. Would she do that? His cheek tingled in suspicion that she would. His gaze dropped back down to the wires. What was he doing again?
“Jack –“ she said, sounding like her throat was dry. His was dry. He could do with a drink. A gin and tonic would be…perfect. “I’m really sorry…” she was trying to apologize again? Without thought, he leaned over the wires and boxes, placing one finger under his chin to bring her mouth to his.
“Shhh,” he said. “It’s okay. You don’t need to worry. Whatever you what. When you want it. I’m all here for you.” She closed her eyes, and melted into his kiss.
Part 5
no subject
no subject
no subject