Martha's never liked Rose. It wasn't exactly hate, only jealousy. Rose was her rival for the Doctor's heart and as much as Martha pined for him, it was crystal clear that his love belonged to Rose. She spent weeks traveling with the Doctor before an opportunity presented itself and she was able to meet this elusive Rose, the keeper of her love's hearts.
It wasn't long, once she saw the way the Doctor and Rose met eyes and watched that spark of just something special go between them, that Martha made her move. She planned and waited and took her chance.
Lips pressed against lips, anger and resistance. Hands fought for dominance, dark ones finally pinning pale ones to the wall, then the bed. Martha sought vengeance, she looked for it against a pale throat, around lovely breasts, between legs that contrasted deliciously against her.
Rose resisted but she eventually gave in, not knowing that it was pain that fueled this encountered. She didn't see the tears flow down Martha's cheeks as her eyes closed against the licking and thrusting between her legs. The blonde felt passion but didn't realize it was the passion to destroy what kept Martha away from what she wanted. Teeth against her hip, biting and drawing blood, only made Rose climax harder, tears of pain and pleasure rolling down her cheeks.
With all her might, Martha tried to destroy, but her heart cried for it knew this was only anger. That in the morning she would regret what she had done, even as she fought to convince herself that come morning, she would be joyous and triumphant. And when she laid her head down finally, weary from her emotional and physical excursions, Martha didn't recoil away from blonde hair brushing her cheek as Rose snuggled against her.
Come morning, Rose would be sore and bruised but content. Come morning, Martha will look over her handiwork on Rose's body and smile in a mixture of therapeutic release and smug joy. She had after all, claimed Rose in a way the Doctor never would.