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Title: Light As A Feather - Payback
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
katherine_b
Rating: PG-13 (although it isn’t what it sounds like). It’s really just fluff in the fluffiest way, but any sort of bondage kinks might have a slight trigger. Oh, and if you’re ticklish, you’re in as much trouble as Donna…
Summary: The Doctor gets his revenge.
Word Count: approx 1,100 words
Characters: Ten and Donna
A/N: In my latest timestamp meme,sykira said “I can't believe no one else has asked for this but in Light As A Feather I'd love to know what happens next, if you feel up to it?! ::hopes::
Donna fights desperately against the cloth fabric binding her wrists and glares at the Doctor as he approaches the bed. There’s a look in his eye that she doesn’t like at all and she thinks for the twelfth time that maybe tickling him with the feather wasn’t the best idea after all.
Sadly, all that her glare accomplishes is causing a smug look to appear on the Doctor’s face.
“Too late for that, Noble,” he declares, flourishing the feather she used on him. “I have no mercy!”
“If you tickle me,” she warns desperately, “I’ll choke.”
He folds his arms over his chest. “There’s water beside the bed,” he points out, arching an eyebrow.
Donna looks around the room. The ties binding her hands are velvet and soft, but they’re too thick for her to tear them. Besides, when he asked her if she wanted to play a game and produced them, she had a pretty good idea of where this was going. The glass of water on the bedside table, however, makes her frown.
“How can you be so this organised at times like this, but then totally unprepared every time we wind up in a prison cell on some alien planet?” she demands.
He chuckles, unfolding his arms and tossing off his jacket. Clearly he means business.
“Just lucky, I guess.” He flourishes the feather again to remind her it’s there. “Now, where should I start with this?”
“Um,” she tries desperately not to look towards her feet, and fails, “not there!” she adds in desperation as he grabs her ankle and gently dusts the tip of the feather over the soft skin of her arch.
Her toes instantly curl in and she tries to yank her foot away, but he’s surprisingly strong. Clamping her mouth shut, she refuses to give him the satisfaction of hearing her make a sound, but her diaphragm contracts and she snorts in a very undignified manner.
The Doctor’s eyes light up and he grins. His eyes glow in the lights from the candles that decorate the walls of this luxurious room and a satisfied smirk appears on his face.
“Well, that was effective,” he remarks, stopping briefly before grabbing her other foot. “Over here, too?”
She turns her head to stifle her face in a pillow so as not to make a sound, trying to decide if it’s too soon to beg for mercy. She knows he’ll stop as soon as she does, but there’s something about the way he’s set up this ‘punishment’ that she thinks it would be a shame to stop it so soon.
Still, as he discovers a place she didn’t even know was ticklish (the inside of her ankle), she knows it’s going to be a struggle. She pulls on the wrist restraints, but they don’t give thanks to the weird knots he’s used to tie them, and which are the same as the ones he uses on his shoes.
In her writhing to escape, she wriggles onto her front, but he immediately brushes the feather over the backs of her knees, and, as she swings her legs up to stop him, she feels him jerk away.
“Nearly got me in the head,” he complains. “We’ll have to do something about that.”
He goes for the sole of her feet again, and she kicks out, unable to make a noise with her face pressed into the pillows and struggling to turn back over while she’s avoiding being ticked. Then he wiggles the feather against the inside of her thigh and she can’t help the shriek that escapes as she lifts her head to get a breath of air.
“Ooh, that’s a bit sensitive,” the Doctor remarks calmly. “Good to know.”
“Sadist,” she declares, although her voice is muffled in the pillow.
He grabs her hips and rolls her onto her back, arching an eyebrow as she looks at him. “What was that?”
“You’re a bloody sadist,” she tells him, grateful to be able to breathe again properly.
That doesn’t last as he tosses aside the feather and brushes the tips of his fingers down her sides beneath her loose-fitting top. She wriggles and finally lets herself giggle because the alternative is definitely choking to death.
God, she’s sensitive there!
He chuckles at the unwilling sound coming from her and tickles her again, his long fingers providing tantalisingly gentle pressure on her stomach and she’s powerless to do anything about it.
“No,” she whimpers at last, gasping for breath. “Not there. Please!”
She tries to look pitiful as he glances at her, but she’s giggling too hard to make it convincing and he smirks, working his hands further up her top to stroke his fingertips over the sensitive skin beneath her upper arms and into her elbows.
She wriggles so hard that she nearly shoves him off the bed and he has to grab her around the waist to steady himself. It’s a brief but thankful respite.
“If you try that again,” he warns in would-be stern tones, although she looks up to see a light dancing in his eyes, “I’ll do something worse.”
Picking up the feather, he flourishes it again, and then dusts it lightly up her wrists and over the palms of her hands, which she immediately clenches into fists as she squirms. She didn’t even know it was possible to be ticklish there!
He tries to prise her hands open again, but she isn’t having any of it, holding on so hard that she can feel her nails digging in to her palms.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he scolds. “Bad girl! You know I’ve left the best for last!”
Without warning, he rolls her onto her stomach again and she shrieks as he pulls up her shirt, but then he uses that bloody feather on her back, and she can feel as gooseflesh rises all over her body. She can’t laugh now because of the pillow, but this is definitely the worst place as far as she’s concerned and she thrashes wildly in an attempt to escape, kicking in the hope that she’ll end up knocking him off the bed properly this time.
Finally he shows some skerrick of mercy and stops, rolling her onto her back, although his fingers slide tormentingly around those terrible ticklish places on her side and her stomach as he moves to lie next to her.
“I ha-ate you!” she gasps breathlessly, pulling on the bindings at her wrists as she fights to get away from his teasing touch.
The teasing light drops from his face at the bitter undercurrent of her voice and he eases his hands from beneath her top. She can’t help smiling a little at the concern in his eyes as he reaches up, and before she knows how he’s done it, her hands are free.
“Still hate me now?” he asks in a whisper, leaning forward to touch his lips to hers.
She pulls back a little, curling his forelock around her index finger and smoothing the palm of her other hand down the stubble on his cheek. “No,” she admits, “not now.”
And she kisses him again.
Next Part
Author:
katherine_b Rating: PG-13 (although it isn’t what it sounds like). It’s really just fluff in the fluffiest way, but any sort of bondage kinks might have a slight trigger. Oh, and if you’re ticklish, you’re in as much trouble as Donna…
Summary: The Doctor gets his revenge.
Word Count: approx 1,100 words
Characters: Ten and Donna
A/N: In my latest timestamp meme,
sykira said “I can't believe no one else has asked for this but in Light As A Feather I'd love to know what happens next, if you feel up to it?! ::hopes::Donna fights desperately against the cloth fabric binding her wrists and glares at the Doctor as he approaches the bed. There’s a look in his eye that she doesn’t like at all and she thinks for the twelfth time that maybe tickling him with the feather wasn’t the best idea after all.
Sadly, all that her glare accomplishes is causing a smug look to appear on the Doctor’s face.
“Too late for that, Noble,” he declares, flourishing the feather she used on him. “I have no mercy!”
“If you tickle me,” she warns desperately, “I’ll choke.”
He folds his arms over his chest. “There’s water beside the bed,” he points out, arching an eyebrow.
Donna looks around the room. The ties binding her hands are velvet and soft, but they’re too thick for her to tear them. Besides, when he asked her if she wanted to play a game and produced them, she had a pretty good idea of where this was going. The glass of water on the bedside table, however, makes her frown.
“How can you be so this organised at times like this, but then totally unprepared every time we wind up in a prison cell on some alien planet?” she demands.
He chuckles, unfolding his arms and tossing off his jacket. Clearly he means business.
“Just lucky, I guess.” He flourishes the feather again to remind her it’s there. “Now, where should I start with this?”
“Um,” she tries desperately not to look towards her feet, and fails, “not there!” she adds in desperation as he grabs her ankle and gently dusts the tip of the feather over the soft skin of her arch.
Her toes instantly curl in and she tries to yank her foot away, but he’s surprisingly strong. Clamping her mouth shut, she refuses to give him the satisfaction of hearing her make a sound, but her diaphragm contracts and she snorts in a very undignified manner.
The Doctor’s eyes light up and he grins. His eyes glow in the lights from the candles that decorate the walls of this luxurious room and a satisfied smirk appears on his face.
“Well, that was effective,” he remarks, stopping briefly before grabbing her other foot. “Over here, too?”
She turns her head to stifle her face in a pillow so as not to make a sound, trying to decide if it’s too soon to beg for mercy. She knows he’ll stop as soon as she does, but there’s something about the way he’s set up this ‘punishment’ that she thinks it would be a shame to stop it so soon.
Still, as he discovers a place she didn’t even know was ticklish (the inside of her ankle), she knows it’s going to be a struggle. She pulls on the wrist restraints, but they don’t give thanks to the weird knots he’s used to tie them, and which are the same as the ones he uses on his shoes.
In her writhing to escape, she wriggles onto her front, but he immediately brushes the feather over the backs of her knees, and, as she swings her legs up to stop him, she feels him jerk away.
“Nearly got me in the head,” he complains. “We’ll have to do something about that.”
He goes for the sole of her feet again, and she kicks out, unable to make a noise with her face pressed into the pillows and struggling to turn back over while she’s avoiding being ticked. Then he wiggles the feather against the inside of her thigh and she can’t help the shriek that escapes as she lifts her head to get a breath of air.
“Ooh, that’s a bit sensitive,” the Doctor remarks calmly. “Good to know.”
“Sadist,” she declares, although her voice is muffled in the pillow.
He grabs her hips and rolls her onto her back, arching an eyebrow as she looks at him. “What was that?”
“You’re a bloody sadist,” she tells him, grateful to be able to breathe again properly.
That doesn’t last as he tosses aside the feather and brushes the tips of his fingers down her sides beneath her loose-fitting top. She wriggles and finally lets herself giggle because the alternative is definitely choking to death.
God, she’s sensitive there!
He chuckles at the unwilling sound coming from her and tickles her again, his long fingers providing tantalisingly gentle pressure on her stomach and she’s powerless to do anything about it.
“No,” she whimpers at last, gasping for breath. “Not there. Please!”
She tries to look pitiful as he glances at her, but she’s giggling too hard to make it convincing and he smirks, working his hands further up her top to stroke his fingertips over the sensitive skin beneath her upper arms and into her elbows.
She wriggles so hard that she nearly shoves him off the bed and he has to grab her around the waist to steady himself. It’s a brief but thankful respite.
“If you try that again,” he warns in would-be stern tones, although she looks up to see a light dancing in his eyes, “I’ll do something worse.”
Picking up the feather, he flourishes it again, and then dusts it lightly up her wrists and over the palms of her hands, which she immediately clenches into fists as she squirms. She didn’t even know it was possible to be ticklish there!
He tries to prise her hands open again, but she isn’t having any of it, holding on so hard that she can feel her nails digging in to her palms.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he scolds. “Bad girl! You know I’ve left the best for last!”
Without warning, he rolls her onto her stomach again and she shrieks as he pulls up her shirt, but then he uses that bloody feather on her back, and she can feel as gooseflesh rises all over her body. She can’t laugh now because of the pillow, but this is definitely the worst place as far as she’s concerned and she thrashes wildly in an attempt to escape, kicking in the hope that she’ll end up knocking him off the bed properly this time.
Finally he shows some skerrick of mercy and stops, rolling her onto her back, although his fingers slide tormentingly around those terrible ticklish places on her side and her stomach as he moves to lie next to her.
“I ha-ate you!” she gasps breathlessly, pulling on the bindings at her wrists as she fights to get away from his teasing touch.
The teasing light drops from his face at the bitter undercurrent of her voice and he eases his hands from beneath her top. She can’t help smiling a little at the concern in his eyes as he reaches up, and before she knows how he’s done it, her hands are free.
“Still hate me now?” he asks in a whisper, leaning forward to touch his lips to hers.
She pulls back a little, curling his forelock around her index finger and smoothing the palm of her other hand down the stubble on his cheek. “No,” she admits, “not now.”
And she kisses him again.
Next Part
cranky
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