The road less travelled...

Title: Light As A Feather – Cool Change
Author: katherine_b
Rating: PG-13 (again with the bondage thing)
Summary: The Doctor is having fun with Donna.
Word Count: approx 1,750 words
Characters: Ten and Donna.
A/N: sykira shamelessly begged for more. Who am I to refuse? This could also qualify as a response to the prompt that wiggiemomsi gave me for Stacie, even though I’ve already responded to that one once…

“Are you ready?”

The Doctor’s voice is soft, his breath cool on her neck, and Donna nods, her eyes fixed on his face as he rears up to look down at her.

“I trust you.”

“Good girl.”

He tightens the soft but strong velvet bonds around her wrists with one of those patented knots of his so that she can’t get free. Knowing that he can have her out of them in an instant is only one of the reasons she isn’t bothered, although she never much enjoyed this sort of thing with the other men who tried it with her.

And then he leans over, past her, out of her line of vision, and when his hand reappears, she can’t help whimpering at the sight of what’s clutched in his fingers.

“Oh, no…”

“Ah, ah, ah!” The Doctor holds up a warning finger from his empty hand. “No sound!”

And then he eases a chunk of ice between her lips before slowly moving his hands along the length of her body, his fingers hovering a few inches above her bare skin.

She tenses, waiting, but can’t help jumping as the first icy drops drip from between his cupped hands as the ice cubes begin to melt in his grasp. The lump of ice in her mouth means that making herself understood is impossible, but she squeaks incoherently as the Doctor’s hands move closer to her bare stomach.

She still doesn’t know how he persuaded her to wear a ludicrously skimpy bikini that he found in that oversized wardrobe of his, but somehow he talked her into it. She’s realising the mistake of that now, not just because she’s uncomfortable about her body, but also because of how much bare skin he has access to.

His eyes are fixed on her face as he brings one of the ice cubes closer to her skin, and she jumps as it makes contact, the coldness almost painful as he rubs it in slow, careful circles over her stomach.

“It’s cold,” she whimpers, although the words are incomprehensible around the ice in her mouth.

There’s a dark light sparkling in the Doctor’s eyes, and as the last of the ice cubes melts away against her skin, he lowers his mouth to her stomach, stroking her skin with his tongue, which feels unusually warm in comparison with the ice as it traces the path that the ice cube took.

However his fingers, which come to rest around her waist, are icy cold and distract her from the action of his mouth, which is kissing and licking her stomach. She writhes a little to get away from the iciness of his touch and he pulls back, that stern look on his face again.

“If you’re going to complain,” he scolds, “we’ll do it again.”

Reaching into the bowl, he picks up another of the ice cubes, and then his fingers slide around behind her neck and she bucks against the ties restraining her arms as the ice touches the skin at her hairline. The coldness is a shock as the ice traces a path down her neck and around to the front of her chest, so that it takes her a few seconds to realize that the Doctor has also undone the top of her bikini and is peeling it back.

Shrieking, she cringes away as the ice cube in the Doctor’s long fingers travels down to the curve of her breast, causing goose flesh to rise on her body as her nipples harden. Then the Doctor’s mouth closes over the chilled skin, and the warmth of his tongue and lips against her chilled skin is at the same time torture and bliss.

“More?” he asks, his breath cool against her chest as her body heats up in response to his ministrations.

“Mmm.”

She can’t help tensing as the ice touches her throat. It feels even colder than before, and a trail of ice water trickles down her neck, but then the Doctor brushes it up and over her mouth and her eyes open wide at the taste of bitter lemon.

“Frozen fruit juice,” the Doctor chuckles as he clearly understands the surprise on her face. “I thought about making this a tasting challenge – but where’s the fun in that?”

He drops that cube back into the bowl and picks up another, which looks red in the glow of the candlelight. He touches it to her mouth first, but before her brain can even register the flavour as pomegranate, he strokes it down her cheek, following the path with his tongue.

“Kiss me,” she begs as he continues to press his lips to her skin.

He chuckles, perhaps hearing the urgency in her voice, before clearly relenting and moving back up her body, stroking and smoothing her skin with his chilly hands, before cupping her face as he finally presses his lips against hers.

She tugs fruitlessly against the ties holding her wrists, because she can’t stand him being this close and not able to touch him, to caress the body pressed against hers.

“Oi!” The Doctor picks up another ice cube from the bowl and strokes it down her body. She can feel how the heat of her skin starts drying it almost immediately, leaving a sticky trail of juice down her side. “No trying to get away,” he tells her sternly.

“I wasn’t!” she protests at once. “It’s just…”

There’s a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “Just what?”

“Well,” she tilts her head slightly to one side, “why should you have all the fun?”

He grins and sits up, fishing in that bowl again to produce what looks like an orange cube, arching an eyebrow as he glances at her. “Where do you want it?”

“Wherever you like,” she retorts, and he traces out a path across his chest and up his neck.

Sliding the last of the cube into his mouth, he grabs the bedhead and supports himself above her so that she can only just reach up and lick at the traces of it on his skin. Her shoulders ache and her longing to touch him only increases when he dips his head so that she can reach the last of orange flavour.

The Doctor sinks down against her as their lips meet and she moans in relief as she can rest her suffering arms. He smiles against her mouth and then pulls back to look down at her, although she notices that he keeps one hand in the bowl on the bedside table.

“You,” he says with a grin that quirks his dimples, “are almost criminally sexy. Did you know that?”

“I suppose that’s why you keep me tied up,” she retorts. “To stop me from being too bad.”

He chuckles, laying alongside her and sliding his index finger, chilled from being in the bowl, along her jaw, down her neck and starting to trail down her chest between her breasts. “No,” he contradicts her. “I do it because you like it, don’t you?”

She groans and arches her back against his hand, feeling as the painful coldness soothes into something more pleasant as his fingers slide into the bikini bottom.

“Don’t you, Donna?” he prompts, although as his fingers slip inside, it’s hard for her to focus on what he’s saying.

“Yes!” she exclaims, unable to decide whether she’s agreeing with him or urging him on.

He chuckles and strips her of the lower half of her bikini, reaching up at the same moment to free her hands. She barely notices the pain in her arms as she is finally able to give in to the almost overpowering urge to touch him, to feel his skin beneath her hands.

And then he sinks into her and she loses the power to form coherent thought, groaning as he moves with her, clinging to him as he thrusts into her again and again.

Finally he collapses onto the bed beside her, both of them covered in a slick sheen of sweat and panting for breath. Donna glances to the side of the bed and sees that there are still a few remnants of the frozen cubes remaining in the bowl. Scooping one out, she drips the icy water onto the Doctor’s chest, seeing as his eyes fly open and he yelps aloud, before she lowers her hand and rubs the ice over his chest.

“Oh, that was nasty!” he exclaims as he wriggles beneath her cold hands, which must feel worse against his hot skin. “Just mean!”

“You did it to me,” she points out, unable to help grinning, before she lowers her mouth to his chest to lick up the juice. She hears him moan above her and his fingers, sticky from the ice, slide into her hair.

She knows they’re both going to need a shower later, but she’s positive it was worth it.

“I should get you back,” he threatens mildly, straddling her and reaching out to pick up the bowl – only to see that it’s almost empty.

Holding back the last piece of ice, he tilts the bowl so that the last of the chilly water dribbles down Donna’s chest, following the trails of it with his tongue until most of it has been cleaned up.

Sitting up, he grins smugly and picks up the last small remnant of ice, holding it over her chest in a threatening manner, before popping it into his mouth instead.

He instantly spits it halfway across the room, a look of disgust appearing on his face just as quickly.

“What is it?” Donna demands anxiously, jerking upright. “Doctor, what’s wrong?”

The Doctor’s tongue is hanging half out of his mouth and he looks almost as bad as he did when he swallowed the cyanide, only increasing Donna’s concern.

“Oh, that was horrible!” he exclaims, reaching across her for the glass of water on the bedside table and gulping it down before wiping the back of his hand across his mouth and chin. “I think I’m dying! Ugh!”

She’s a little impatient at his dramatics when he won’t tell her what’s wrong.

“What. Is. It.?” she demands from between clenched teeth.

He looks up at her, his expression pitiful and his damp, sweat-soaked hair hanging limply over his forehead as if it’s lost all interest in living.

“Pears!” he announces in tones that suggest that the Universe might be about to end.

Donna has to stifle her giggles in fear of what he might do to her next time they end up in this room.