Stolen
Title: Stolen
Rating: Well, there is smut, so lets give it a nice M.
Disclaimer: Mr Saxon wants you to know it belongs to him. So don’t get any ideas.
Summary: Yes, it was a supremely stupid idea...
Authors Notes: Just because it isn’t Doctor/Master doesn’t make it accpetable. This is exactly the sort of filth I don’t want to see! (But I make no apologies for writing it!)



His hand grips her throat.

Yes, it was a supremely stupid idea, looking back on it.

‘If you scream, be sure you will not live to take another breath’

She answers only by stomping on his left foot, as hard as she can, her current position not allowing for any more substantial attack.

His hand tightens briefly then loosens again.

‘Oh Theta, full of fire this one’

He keeps addressing this Theta, whomever they are. A sick commentary for an invisible witness to this bizarre show.

‘You choose well my old friend. Eye for a pretty girl. Pity you favour such... primitive creatures’ His empty hand caresses her cheek and she flinches away, only to be pulled roughly back by the hand still clasped around her throat.

‘And I suppose my wife is dead by now. No matter... For what have I here? A girl, young and fresh, perfect for satisfying my... earthly desires’ Her heart races, and yet in her ears she hears not it’s steady beat but the sound of drums, louder and louder. Da da da-dum, Da da da-dum...

‘What shall you think when you hear I have stolen her?’ He presses to her back, and she feels his breath against her neck in short, sharp bursts.

‘Miss Jones... Martha, is it?’ He kisses her neck gently, his lips startlingly cool against her hot skin. She fights to suppress the shiver of pleasure that runs down her spine, but too late, he sighs softly as she shudders against him.

‘You cannot know how long I have desired this Theta. Oh, to take from you the things you most value. Your ship, your youth... your friend. Like candy from a baby, as they say’ He spins her roughly, pulling her into passionate embrace, his hand never faltering in it’s grasp on her neck.

He tastes like time and death and she feels her body relax into his, feels him drift over her consciousness. She throws up doors, as the Doctor once taught her, and as he pushes on one she pushes back against him.

He breaks away, dark eyes reflecting back into her own. She notices the little honey coloured flecks in his irises and something inside her says these cannot be the eyes of a killer.

‘Oh Theta. the human has fallen in love!’ Her heart pounds inside her chest, a great warmth is building within her and she can feel the dampness behind her knees.

‘The human girl, in love with the time lord. But what's this? He loves another, nothing more but a child, trapped where he cannot reach her. Oh how he aches for her.
And you, my dear, you who love him more than any other and he who cannot see you. Tell me, how does it feel? Does it hurt? Does it break your heart? Your little human heart?’ His voice is low and dangerous and those eyes glitter with malice.

‘You are not alone, Martha Jones. As a wise woman once said, some things are worth having your heart broken for. So must we all suffer... for your Doctor is irresistible’

His hand moves to her shirt and long fingers stroke the warm curve of her breasts. She inhales sharply and he smiles happily.

‘Shall I take her Theta? Shall I show her my power, my majesty?’ His hand is roaming again, down, down to the waistband of her jeans, which serve to halt his progress, if only for a moment.

The button slides open with a resounding ‘pop’. She feels the denim settle low on her hips and watches as he regards her lacy underwear.

‘Oh I approve Miss Jones! Very, Very nice. My poor Theta doesn’t know what he’s missing out on!’

He turns her roughly again, so she cannot see his face, and tugs at the jeans so they pool at her ankles. She feels a slight thrill race through her, and quickly suppresses it, for the shame of what she knows is about to happen.

Still, his hand grips her throat.

And then she feels him, behind her, hard against her thigh. God, he must see what that does to her, how her body reacts to him, how it fills with a sudden ache for him.

‘Make a sound, and it will be the last you ever make’ He whispers to her ear and pushes her forward, over the expensive mahogany desk.

Jesus, she’s being shagged in Downing Street. By the PM no less. There’s a story to tell Tish. Not that she’ll ever believe it.

She gasps loudly at the first thrust. For a moment his hand tightens around her windpipe and she feels certain he means to kill her, but he chuckles softly and his grasp relaxes again.

On the second and third thrusts she struggles to remain silent, but the fourth draws a high-pitched squeak from her, and at the fifth she hisses through her teeth and pushes back against him, hard.

‘Oh, how hot she is Theta...’ He’s whispering, his free hand digging into hers, holding her against the desk.

‘So hot, these humans, so hot on the inside...’ He thrusts again and she feels her climax building, yet strangely, she does not feel ashamed as the voice inside tells her she should.

No, her body aches, her mind screams and she gasps his name as he pushes her over the edge and she falls, shuddering back to Earth.

A moment later she hears her own name echoed back as he surges forwards and her hips crash painfully against the desk.

Then, to her surprise he pulls away gently, kisses her shoulder softly as he helps her with her clothing.

‘I’m feeling... generous. I will let your Doctor and the good captain free. No joy in destroying the world if my fellow time lord and his merry band of humans aren’t there to try and stop me. Though, I do expect a proper effort next time, don’t disappoint me’ He finally releases his grasp on her throat and steps back from her. His eyes are wide, and he looks rather like a naughty schoolboy.

He takes her hand as he guides her to the door.

‘Do tell my dear friend Theta I’m awfully sorry, but I’m just such a naughty, naughty boy...’ The pieces fall into place and Martha sees the man in front of her for what he really is. The slick, suave, nasty piece of work that threatens to destroy her world and everyone in it.

‘Oh, and be sure to give him my compliments on his most excellent choice of companion...’