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Untitled Master,Lucy, Martha Drabbles	By : shaydshanidepp Category: 1 through F > Doctor Who Views: 3084 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or any character associated with the Doctor Who universe nor am I making any money from this. This is a work of fiction for my and our own enjoyment

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
The on Christmas day she was “blessed” and the act awoke her inner self.
It was Christmas and Martha's wary eyes were ever vigilant so when a wooden blue box appeared out of nowhere she knew something was going to happen. “Doctor!” Martha shouted at him running at full speed behind an older Scottish fellow and a young woman with brown hair. The Doctor spun around and a smile broke out comically large his face.
“Martha Jones.” She stood there staring at him a bit. “What?” “You're Scottish now! It's different.” “Good different or bad?” “Neither just different.” “I'm sorry but who are you?” “Martha Clara. Clara Martha. Why are you staring?” “It's okay he more than likely hasn't mentioned me. Doctor Martha Jones.” She shook the other woman's hand knowing she would badger the Doctor about her later. “Your eyebrows.” “Attack eyebrows!”
“There's been some things going on in the nearby refugee camp but you already knew that. I mean why else would you be here.” Clara punched the Doctor hard in the shoulder. “He promised me a regular vacation. Should have known better!” She stomped off towards the camp with Martha and the Doctor following. An old woman that everyone knew as Missy was involved in a tussle with some young punks and got stabbed that instantly drew Martha away from the pair.
“Ma'am let me look at you okay.” The old woman let Martha examine her with a heavy sigh. “Tell me what it is child.” “I um...” She trailed off something about this woman chilled her to her core and reminded her of someone she had forgotten. “Tell me what's the fucking damage.” Maybe that was it. The older woman was vulgar and not at all like she expected old ladies to be but then again they were all different. Getting old doesn't really make you soft. “You probably won't survive the night ma'am.” She sat with the older woman until she could feel her last breaths being taken. “If I were the person I used to be I would be blessing you right now. You are truly to kind Martha Jones.” The woman passed away and the only thing that Martha could think of was how did she know her name. Usually in the case of the elderly she thought of their family if they had any. She had to alert the collectors soon but she felt so tired she would do that in a minute or so.
Martha dreamed the same dream she always had a lover taking her in the most intimate ways possible. This time it felt so real her lover he felt so heavy. She swore she could feel something bump her cervix. She wanted to open her eyes but since she still felt it was a dream she kept them closed a little longer. Until she felt softly calloused hands stroking her clit her eyes flew open taking him all in. The Master groaning above her. Moving inside her most private of places gaining what looked to be thinly veiled pleasure from it. This frightened her greatly in her fears her walls clinched him like a vice grip and he let out a low growl.
He looked close to angelic with his eyes closed, nostrils flaring with breath and his mouth hung open in unfathomable pleasure. Pleasure than she was giving him something about this single thought burrowed under her skin and sank into her bones. He had taken on a painstakingly slow pace and the pressure inside of her mounted so she tried to urge him to move faster. Not getting any results grinding herself against him she used her legs and thighs to flip them over. He looked up at her eyes wolfishly hungry with barely restrained need as she began to ride him. Rocking herself against him in a passionately wild grind she could feel her orgasm coming on spurred on by his sounds she let it go. They locked eyes as their climaxes came washing over them and the barriers inside their minds gave away. He could no longer tell where he began and where she ended. That was a dangerous thing. She was a dangerous thing. With her frail human body snuggled beside him he felt something similar to peace of mind something he craved for for as far back as he could remember. When she began to sleep he made the conscious decision to leave her there. He could not have something so fine and not ruin it. He was a Time Lord and that was what they were best at. No matter how hard they tried.
It was Christmas on some unknown planet that Martha Jones had been assigned to by the joint co-op that UNIT and Torchwood had created. The Master was stealing the Tardis and leaving the Doctor and Clara stranded when it hit her. Something was astoundingly different about the Master this time around. When he swung open the Tardis door to gloat he was smacked into by another body. Martha Jones lay on top of him breathing very heavily with dark lustful yearning eyes. She didn't have Mickey and she no longer felt bound by the Earth because she could no longer be satisfied by human touch. She could never be with the Doctor he just wouldn't ever see her that way and she no longer cared about him like she used to. She wanted the very promise of a late night fuck over the console. She wanted a spanking or a hard paddling when she had been very bad. She wanted a good hard ramming on the floor of the library and a sneaky quick shag in the massive Tardis wardrobe. Everything she was doing was wrong by any and all means but she didn't give a damn and two hundred flying fucks right now. She spent so much time caring about and helping everyone all it got her was being used and jack shit in the end.
For once in her life Martha Anastasia Jones would help herself to what she wanted in HER life.
The dark Time Lord pressed hard against her couldn't agree more.
She was going to have a very merry Christmas indeed!
- 7
- 8
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Untitled Master,Lucy, Martha Drabbles