The Doctor stops on the threshold of Donna’s room, having come in response to her call. His eyes widen as he takes in the scene before him.
“I thought you came in here to get cleaned up,” he demands, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.
“I did,” she says sweetly, but with a tone to her voice that he can’t help thinking isn’t as innocent as it should be.
Now that he’s paying attention, he can smell the faintest whiff of soap. Of course, it’s quite well hidden by another very strong and quite familiar scent.
He quirks an eyebrow, a grin playing about his mouth, as he stares at the dirty brown smears on Donna’s chest, just above the round curve of her breasts, barely hidden by a white sheet.
“That’s not mud,” he declares almost triumphantly.
She picks up a jar beside the bed, dips her finger into it, and sucks on the digit, the scent of chocolate in the room strengthening. As she moves her finger around in her mouth, she stares at him almost confidingly, but with an amused glint in her eyes.
“Mmm mmm,” she agrees with a coy shake of her head.
“Will you be able to get clean by yourself?” he asks teasingly, crossing the room to sit beside her on the bed, slowly sliding his hand up her bare leg, which protrudes from beneath the sheet.
She shrugs, and the jar tilts in her hand so that another thin stream of chocolate body paint drips onto her chest. He watches it trickle in slow motion along her voluptuous curves and he slowly pulls back the sheet so it doesn’t stain the clean, white fabric.
Then he yields to the invitation in her eyes and lowers his mouth to begin cleaning up.
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