Title: Sheela Na Gig, You Exhibitionist!
Word Count: 1474 [in Microsoft Word]
Genre: Very smutty PWP
Rating: NC-17, very
Spoilers: S4’s The Doctor’s Daughter
[nothing relevant to the plot, but just so you know who Jenny is]
Summary: The Doctor likes to watch, but little does he know, Jenny has a lot she wants to show him.
All your Doctor Who are belong to us
Sadly, I own nothing related to Doctor Who et al. I am just playing around in their sandbox for a bit of fun.
Author Notes: I’m organizing my hard drive and decided to post several of the fics I’ve written for the kinkmeme publicly [so, you’ll probably see more fics over the next few days]. This one in particular was originally written back in June for the prompt “Ten/Jenny - Exhibitionism.” The title is from a PJ Harvey song and it was my second foray into writing the Ten/Jenny pairing. While they aren’t high on my list of favorite ships, I still enjoyed the challenge of writing this piece. As I stated with my last story, I understand that Ten/Jenny is a very controversial pairing and, while I get that, I handwave a lot of that personally. If Ten/Jenny is not your thing, you probably shouldn’t read this. There is no beta for this fic as it’s been sitting on the net for a while now. I tried to find any typos that I could, but I might have missed some. Oh, and feedback is happy-making, so please leave a word or two [even if I am a bit slack in responding, your comments always make my day].
She walked around nude sometimes, prancing down corridors in the TARDIS showing off her lily-white skin, supple breasts capped with small pink nipples, and soft toned legs. She had no shame about doing so and often the Doctor would catch himself thinking – why should she?
Like any father – anyone who cared for her, really – he wanted her to be happy with herself, with her body. His people had always been so fond of covering every bit of flesh with layers and layers of clothing and, even in his own more Earthly attire (where he tried to convince himself he was being so
rebellious), he found himself often doing the same.
There was a shame in showing your flesh, in succumbing to your more carnal desires, which ran through his culture so deeply that even after so many years of running from it, it still colored his thoughts. Suits, shirts in layers, trousers, shoes
– even now, he was completely covered.
He was working on the innards of the TARDIS and, by rights, should be wearing much less, but he still covered his flesh, as always. Exposing the flesh felt almost like exposing his soul, and that was not on his current list of priorities.
Jenny was so very different than him.
She had no cultural expectations or emotional boundaries around nudity as he did. In fact, he was starting to contemplate how he should speak to her on the subject. At least he had been able to convince her to have clothes on when they were outside
of the TARDIS, giving her an awkward roundabout lecture. The whole miserable thing had essentially amounted to him framing it as not wanting her to be cold, that the natives of many planets often objected to nudity, and various other things he’d wittered on about while trying not to stare openly at her bared breasts before him.
He wasn’t doing so well at this fathering thing this time around – especially when it came to the staring.
Even now as he worked on the TARDIS, Jenny sat on the captain’s chair, nude with her legs somewhat spread and swinging in little kicks as she hummed and watched him work. The Doctor tried to ignore her – trying desperately to ignore the soft pink flesh between her thighs that beckoned his eyes and the way her breasts bounced ever so slightly
and the muscles in her stomach shifted beneath her skin with each swing of her legs –
“You’re staring at me again,” she said plainly, jarring him from his thoughts.
He tried to hide the rising blush on his cheeks and bent back down to use his sonic screwdriver on a nearby circuit again. “Not staring. I was just thinking, staring off into space as they say, though honestly, in the TARDIS, I could do that literally by looking out the front door, but no, I was just lost in thought, that’s all,” he spoke quickly, as always trying to distract her with a battery of words.
She giggled slightly, a throaty giggle that hinted at something more mischievous. His cock stirred in response. “No, you were staring. That’s okay though, I like it when you do.”
“What are you on about?” he said, trying to sound nonchalant, though he was mostly trying to calm the fierce pounding of his hearts in his chest.
“I see you looking at me, when I’m not wearing any clothes. You look like those men in the films that want to fuck.”
“Jenny! Such language!” he reprimanded, reaching out to hold onto a nearby grating as the conversation was making him somewhat dizzy and winded.
“Do you like to look at me, Daddy?”
“I think you do,” she said and the Doctor looked up at her.
He immediately froze as he saw she was slowly trailing the fingertips of one hand over her thigh, easing closer and closer to her sex in between.
The Doctor swallowed hard, but quickly shifted to climb up from below the console to stand before her. “Jenny, I need you to put some clothes on,” he said evenly, trying to ignore the incessant throbbing in his groin.
He could smell her arousal from where he stood and, frankly, it was making him dizzy with desire.
“But why?” she whined, her expression genuinely puzzled.“Please,
Jenny,” he pleaded through gritted teeth.
Jenny frowned and hopped down from the captain’s chair, her breasts bouncing as she landed. “Whatever you say,” she said with a indignant pout and walked out of the console room.
The Doctor forced his gaze away from watching her as she left and moved back down beneath the console to distract himself from his more lascivious thoughts.
He heard Jenny return a few minutes later and looked up to see her wearing a yellow, babydoll sundress. “Better?” she asked with a bow.
“Much,” he replied and resumed working on the TARDIS, crawling further under the floor until he was lying flat on his back just beneath the grating near the captain’s chair. Jenny walked over and leaned over the console, apparently exploring the switches as she often did.
“Can I help you with anything, Daddy?” she asked.
The Doctor looked up to tell her he didn’t need any help, but his words caught in his throat as he noticed from his vantage point he could see straight up her dress. She was wearing nothing underneath.
His desire – which he had just begun to get back under control – suddenly swelled within him again and he could feel his cock hardening, pressing tight against the fabric of his trousers. It was times such as this that he actually lamented wearing so many clothes, hating the confining feel of too-tight cloth in such situations.
Jenny moved against the console, slowly shifting this way and that as she reached over it caressing the parts curiously, showing him quick glimpses of the curves of her buttocks, of her thighs, and of her pussy.
“You know that all I want to do is help you, Daddy,” she cooed.
“Jenny,” he breathed, tightly closing his eyes against the sight.
He could hear her moving above him, but focused instead on calming himself. Her scent – seemingly so close all of a sudden – caused his eyes to flutter open. Above him, now kneeling on the grating, was Jenny.
She had positioned herself where her knees were spread just over where his head was, so as he looked up, he could again see straight up her dress. Her knees were just inches from his hands, her flesh seeming to call out for his touch –
She looked down at him, an uncharacteristic intensity in her eyes. “Why won’t you let me help you, Daddy? There is something you want, maybe I can help you with it.”
“I…I don’t want anything, Jenny,” he stammered.
“You want to watch me,” she corrected him, slipping a hand between her legs to caress her slit. “Oh.”
“Jenny, please.” The Doctor felt trapped – not only by her location but also by the very sight of her.
Jenny slipped a finger inside herself and began to lightly caress her thumb over her clit. The Doctor’s mouth went dry, her heady scent and her caresses driving him wild. He reached up and gripped onto the grating above him, now finally letting himself stare openly at her actions as something primal within him began to take hold.
“I want you to watch me, Daddy. I want you to look at my body and I want you to see me give myself pleasure,” she said, her voice breathy with pants and moans.
“Jenny, I – ”
“Just watch me, Daddy. You like to watch and I love to be seen, especially by you.”
Jenny intensified her actions, her moans and groans growing more and more loud as she eased herself closer and closer to her orgasm. The Doctor kept holding onto the grating, his grip white-knuckled as he panted, carefully watching every single movement of fingers as they dipped inside her again and again and again and ever single brush from her thumb against her clit --
Soon, she was practically screaming, her body shuddering with her climax. She fell forward as each spasm hit her – one hand gripping the fingers of one of his hands through the grating, as her other hand caressed herself through the final throes of her orgasm.
She knelt above him, back arched slightly and panting with her eyes closed. Soon she opened them up and looked down at him with a puckish smile. “Did I help you, Daddy?”
The Doctor breathed out a sigh, reaching up to wipe the sweat from his brow. “Yes, Jenny,” he answered quietly.
“I’m so glad!” she exclaimed gleefully, pushing herself to stand.
“I want you to wear that dress more often while I work.”