As do all of my fics so far, this takes place after JE, and EoT didn't happen.
As always, I don't own Doctor Who, Donna or Ten. Please read and enjoy...
Blue is the color of her eyes, with flecks of gold, the after effects of the metacrisis. It’s the color of her chemise, soft, light, and silky as it flows over her body. It’s the color of the matching robe, tied loosely at the chest, just below her breasts. It’s the color of the ribbon holding back her hair in a loose ponytail, loose curly tendrils framing her face. It’s also the color of the sky beneath which they stand facing each other. He puts his arms around her and lowers her to the ground, a soft duvet resting on the grass of this garden room inside the TARDIS.
Brown is the color of his eyes as they look into hers. It’s the color of his hair, which is normally gravity defying, but now after a warm shower is coifed carefully, and laying relatively flat. She’s not sure if she really prefers his hair this way. She likes the sticky-upness of it naturally. But as she touches it, and feels the softness of it, she decides she does like it after all. Brown is the color of the pinstripes running through his deep wine colored silk shirt and trousers (pyjamas sounds so juvenile in this instance). It’s the color of the soft hair smattering his chest that’s showing through his open shirt. It’s the color of the hair below his belly button leading below to treasures hidden beneath silken trousers. She feels his arms wrap around her and lower her to the duvet laid out beneath them, and slowly begins to untie the ribbon holding her robe closed.
Red is the color of her hair, glorious and bright. It’s the color of the duvet they now lay upon, though not as vibrant a red as her hair. It contrasts beautifully with the blue of her chemise, and now discarded robe. He reaches back with one hand, and unties the ribbon holding her hair back. Reverently he runs his hand through it, mumbling words of endearment, then enhancing the words with soft kisses, first to her cheeks, then to her lips
A light dusky violet is the color of the sky now, as she looks up at it while he presses kisses to her jawline and neck. The fading light makes everything seem a little violet even the shirt she gently pushes off his shoulders, lifting her head up to dot little kisses on them. He’s laying almost atop her, but off to the side enough for her to move comfortably. When he presses more insistent kisses to her lips, she reaches up, pulling him closer, twining her fingers in his hair. When they divest themselves of the rest of their clothing, and he pushes his knee in between her legs, all thoughts of the colors around her are pushed away, as are his, and they lose themselves in their actions, and each other.
Black is the color of the sky when they come back to themselves, panting and a little sweaty. He rolls to the side, taking her with him to cuddle into his side. He scoots them to one side of the duvet, takes the other side, and folds it over them. She notes that he has the outside edges of the duvet, while she’s tucked up on the inside, thus making sure she will stay warm. This may be a garden recreation inside his timeship, but the TARDIS does try to keep the temperature as realistic as possible. They hold each other in silence, just enjoying the afterglow and the night sky. Slowly, and sweetly, they slide into sleep.
Pink is the color of the dawn sky as the sun begins to rise. He blinks at the light, and then looks down at the woman in his arms. Pink is the color of her skin, soft and warm. A dusky pink denotes the color of her lips, slightly parted in slumber. He watches her sleep for a little while, before dipping his head and kissing her softly. She responds, and they share a light kiss that while not chaste, is not really leading anywhere other than to say “I love you”. He pulls back and sees her eyes are open, and they are back to the beginning. Blue.