Fic: Threshold 4/4 (Ten II/Rose | Adult)
Title: Threshold (4/4)
Author: aibhinn
Pairing: Ten II / Rose
Rating: Very, very adult
Betas: dameruth, wendymr. All remaining mistakes are mine alone.
Summary: Rose and the Doctor cross the third major threshold of their life together.
Spoilers: Through JE.
Author's note: Chapters 3 and 4 of this fic are written for Lori, who "won" me in the holiday Support Stacie auction. I truly hope this meets with your approval, my dear, and even if it is a little late, I hope your holidays have been wonderful!
Part 1: Between Night and Daybreak, Nine/Rose
Part 2: If the Fates Allow, Ten/Rose
Part 3: For Auld Lang Syne, Ten II/Rose
For Auld Lang Syne pt 2
She leads him down the hallway, past the room Jackie uses for her crafty stuff-her mum has become obsessed with scrapbooking since Tony's birth-and the downstairs loo, towards the small, narrow staircase at the end. Back when this house was built, it was probably for the servants, but now it's just an extra staircase. Rose is the only one who uses it, as far as she knows.
Tony's room is quiet and dark-not surprising, since he'd been up since four that morning-and a muted light shines from under the door of her parents' room, just a few steps from the main staircase. Her room is right in front of them. With no hesitation, she starts for it.
To her surprise he holds back a moment, and she turns, looking up at him in confusion. "What is it?" she asks.
"Are you on contraceptives?" he asks quietly.
"No," she says, still bemused. "Why would I need to-Oh." The penny drops. He's part human now, no longer fully alien; they can't count on biological incompatibility any more.
"My room," he says, and tugs her in that direction, farther along the corridor and on the opposite side.
She's not been in his room since he arrived in this universe, and isn't surprised to see that it's furnished very simply: double bed, wardrobe, dressing table, two bedside tables with lamps, a few books on one of the tables. The duvet is deep blue, TARDIS blue, and her heart breaks just a little for him. As much as she's lost, he's lost even more.
He doesn't give her much time to think; once the door is shut, he pulls her to him again in a kiss that's less frantic than the ones downstairs, but no less intense. Her hands slip under his blue suit jacket, pushing it up and over his shoulders and he releases her long enough to let it drop, then reaches for the sash to her dressing gown. It comes open easily, and he breaks the kiss to look at her as he peels the gown off her slowly, revealing the dark blue satin pyjamas she wears: a Christmas gift from her mother. "I saw these when you opened them," he says, running his hands down her arms, then back up. "I thought then you would look unbelievably sexy in them. And I was right." Rose reaches for his tie, but he gently pushes her hands away. "Let me see you first," he says quietly. "Please?"
She nods, flushing slightly. He kisses her again, walking her backwards towards the bed until the backs of her knees hit the mattress. Overbalanced, she sits down rather harder than she intended. She flushes deeper and giggles, embarrassed.
He laughs too, but instead of joining her on the bed, he kneels before her. She separates her legs, makes room for him as he slides his hands up her thighs to her hips. She can't resist twining her hands in his thick, soft hair, rubbing his scalp the way she used to do for his twin. His eyes briefly close in pleasure, then open again. "I didn't think we'd ever do this," he says, sliding his hands up under her shirt to caress the small of her back. "I thought...." He trails off, glances away.
"What did you think?" she whispers, though she's afraid she knows.
He takes a breath, then meets her eyes again. "I thought you didn't want me," he says. "That you wanted him, and I wasn't good enough. Second-rate replacement, as it were, not as good as the original."
"Oh, Doctor." She smoothes her hands over his hair. "Never think that again," she tells him. "Never, ever think that again. I'm so sorry I ever made you feel that way. You're more than good enough. You're you."
His eyes brighten suspiciously for a moment before he stretches up enough to kiss her again. This time it's more like the kisses she remembers from him before: gentle, though not tentative, and filled with love. We were so close to losing this, she thinks. So close to missing out on each other just because we weren't talking. Though it wasn't really his fault, that, was it? It was hers, making assumptions, jumping to conclusions. Never again, she vows. I'll never make him feel unwanted again.
He reaches between them and begins undoing her buttons, trailing his lips down her throat to kiss each exposed bit of flesh. He pulls back when they're all undone, pushing her shirt over her shoulders and down her arms, staring at her with a look of mixed reverence and lust. "So beautiful," he murmurs, cupping a breast in each hand. His thumbs swipe over her taut nipples, and she moans lightly. "You're more beautiful now than you were before Canary Wharf. Far more beautiful than I ever imagined you could be." He looks up at her. "I'm a killer, Rose," he says, so quietly she almost can't hear. "And not just a killer-I've wiped out whole species, killed millions with a single blow. I've caused the deaths of innocents. I've set events into motion that caused pain and suffering for untold millions, even billions more, and I've spent my whole life running away from anything resembling responsibility."
"But you're not running any more," she points out. "You could, but you're not. You're here, and we're gonna make a fantastic life together, Doctor, you an' me."
Silence falls, and the Doctor's gaze meets hers, fathoms-deep. She feels as though she could fall right into them. Almost without realising she's doing it, she shifts her hands, presses her fingertips against his temples as she used to do.
And somehow, the link flickers into fragile, trembling life.
Shock fills her, both her own and the Doctor's. It's distant, his reaction, faint and almost hollow-feeling, but it's there and it's definitely his. His eyes are wide now, the pain replaced by a sense of surprise and wonder. Hers, she thinks, must look the same to him.
"Is that-?" he whispers, as if afraid to speak too loudly for fear of breaking the link again.
"Yeah," she whispers back, hearing the wonder in her own voice. "I think so."
He raises a shaky hand, cups her cheek, rests his fingertips against her own temple, closes his eyes in concentration. The link steadies, firms, and she nearly sobs. She's missed this, oh, she's missed this, missed having this connection with him. He opens his eyes and she feels his relief, too, along with amazement and gratitude and love, so much love, washing over her and through her, filling all the empty places that had been so lonely for so long . . . .
He clutches her to him, rests his cheek against her chest like a lost little boy who's just been found. She holds him close, pressing her lips to his hair and opening her end of the link as wide as she can, letting her love flow over him. "Rose," he murmurs. She can hear the thickness in his voice, and knows it's not only because of the link itself; it's the knowledge that he's not lost everything from his Gallifreyan heritage, that he's still the Doctor, still at least part Time Lord, still the man he was, as well as the man he's become.
"I love you," she whispers, knowing that the link tells him so more effectively than the words ever could, but needing to say them all the same.
"I thought it was gone," he says. "I thought all of it was gone. I never imagined . . . ."
He pulls back, looks up at her. The lost look is replaced with something else: hope. Her heart swells, and she smiles. "Come to bed," she says.
Slowly he rises to his feet and, never breaking eye contact, reaches up to pull his tie loose. She scoots back on the bed until she's lying in the middle, head on his pillows as he lets the tie drop and begins on his shirt buttons. He undresses slowly, methodically, never once taking his eyes off her. The link isn't there when they're not touching, of course-it never had been-but she doesn't need it to read his emotions in his face.
Naked now, he reaches into a drawer and pulls out a condom. He rips open the foil packet and rolls the latex on, then crawls onto the bed and strips her out of her pyjama bottoms and knickers before shifting to lie in the cradle of her thighs, their bodies pressed together. The link shivers back to life, and she can feel exactly how much he wants her, wants this. She arches into him, and he groans before reaching down between them and guiding himself into her.
She sucks in a breath as he presses into her. It's been so long that she's forgotten the sensation, forgotten the glorious stretch as her body accomodates his. He pauses, deep inside her, before pulling back and thrusting in again, faster this time. "Oh, God," she whimpers. The feedback through the link is more intense than she remembers; she can feel everything he's feeling as well as her own body's sensations, and it pushes her towards the edge faster than she expected. She bites her lip, trying to hold back, to make this last as long as possible.
He bends down, kisses her throat, whispers in her ear. "I mean to make you come, Rose. As many times as possible. I want to watch you come apart beneath me, over and over again, and know that your pleasure is my doing. I want to take you so far out of yourself that you forget everything but me. And then, when you can't do any more, that's when I'm going to come inside you."
Need rolls through her, and she gasps. "Yes," she whispers. "Oh, God, please, yes." She's so close already, and his words have only made her hotter.
One hand reaches down to press against her clit, and she shatters without warning, a long, deep moan dragged from her throat as her climax shudders through her. He kisses her, his tongue mimicking the way his fingers stroke her, and unbelievably, the sensations don't fade; they ratchet higher, like a coil twisting tighter and tighter inside her. She places her feet flat on the mattress and lifts her hips, grinding into him. He responds by thrusting even harder, and the change in angle is enough for him to hit that spot he used to love so much. She breaks the kiss, throws her head back in another cry as she comes again.
He removes his hand as she comes down from her second orgasm and wraps his arms around her, rolling them so he's on his back and she straddles him. She's panting hard, her muscles weak with the aftereffects of orgasm, but manages to push herself up so she's looking down at him. His skin is flushed, sweaty, human-hot instead of Time Lord-cool, and she decides it's his control that needs to snap. . . and thanks to the link, she knows exactly how to do it.
She leans forward, her hands resting to either side of his head, and lifts herself up away from his hips just slightly. With a wicked smile, she begins rocking her hips--not her whole body, just her hips--feeling him slipping slowly in and out of her in a gentle, almost caressing rhythm. It doesn't take long before his breathing shallows and she can feel the rising tide of desire inside him.
"Rose," he says, and she can hear the strain in his voice. "Rose, I . . . ."
"Shhhh." She kisses him softly. "Let me, Doctor."
"But I . . . I wanted to . . . . "
"You did. And you will again. But for now, let me. Please."
He whimpers, and she can tell that he's getting close. "I love you," she whispers. "I love you, Doctor. I want to do this for you for the rest of our lives. I want to feel you inside of me, want to come around you, want to feel you come." She kisses him again. "Come for me, Doctor."
With a growl, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her down onto him, hard. She gives a little cry at the sensation of him slamming home. He thrusts again, and again, picking up the pace, until at last he tenses and gives an inarticulate cry as he pulses inside her, throbbing with his release and, incredibly, causing her to orgasm again as well. They strain together, bodies tense, the link filled with so much joy and pleasure she almost can't bear it.
At last she collapses on top of him, boneless and sweaty and exhausted, her head on the pillow beside his. His hands stroke lightly up and down her back as they catch their breaths, until at last she has enough strength to sit up. Softened, he slips out of her, and as she rolls to the side he turns to the edge of the bed to dispose of the condom. Turning back to her, he tugs the duvet up over them and gathers her close, pressing his lips to her hair as she snuggles against him.
It's silent for a long moment, neither of them willing to break the mood with speech. They don't really need to speak, anyway; the link is glowing with their love and contentment. Finally, though, he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Thank you," he says quietly.
She smiles against his chest. "I love you," she replies.
He kisses her forehead, and curled up together, the Doctor and Rose fall asleep.
Author: aibhinn
Pairing: Ten II / Rose
Rating: Very, very adult
Betas: dameruth, wendymr. All remaining mistakes are mine alone.
Summary: Rose and the Doctor cross the third major threshold of their life together.
Spoilers: Through JE.
Author's note: Chapters 3 and 4 of this fic are written for Lori, who "won" me in the holiday Support Stacie auction. I truly hope this meets with your approval, my dear, and even if it is a little late, I hope your holidays have been wonderful!
Part 1: Between Night and Daybreak, Nine/Rose
Part 2: If the Fates Allow, Ten/Rose
Part 3: For Auld Lang Syne, Ten II/Rose
For Auld Lang Syne pt 2
She leads him down the hallway, past the room Jackie uses for her crafty stuff-her mum has become obsessed with scrapbooking since Tony's birth-and the downstairs loo, towards the small, narrow staircase at the end. Back when this house was built, it was probably for the servants, but now it's just an extra staircase. Rose is the only one who uses it, as far as she knows.
Tony's room is quiet and dark-not surprising, since he'd been up since four that morning-and a muted light shines from under the door of her parents' room, just a few steps from the main staircase. Her room is right in front of them. With no hesitation, she starts for it.
To her surprise he holds back a moment, and she turns, looking up at him in confusion. "What is it?" she asks.
"Are you on contraceptives?" he asks quietly.
"No," she says, still bemused. "Why would I need to-Oh." The penny drops. He's part human now, no longer fully alien; they can't count on biological incompatibility any more.
"My room," he says, and tugs her in that direction, farther along the corridor and on the opposite side.
She's not been in his room since he arrived in this universe, and isn't surprised to see that it's furnished very simply: double bed, wardrobe, dressing table, two bedside tables with lamps, a few books on one of the tables. The duvet is deep blue, TARDIS blue, and her heart breaks just a little for him. As much as she's lost, he's lost even more.
He doesn't give her much time to think; once the door is shut, he pulls her to him again in a kiss that's less frantic than the ones downstairs, but no less intense. Her hands slip under his blue suit jacket, pushing it up and over his shoulders and he releases her long enough to let it drop, then reaches for the sash to her dressing gown. It comes open easily, and he breaks the kiss to look at her as he peels the gown off her slowly, revealing the dark blue satin pyjamas she wears: a Christmas gift from her mother. "I saw these when you opened them," he says, running his hands down her arms, then back up. "I thought then you would look unbelievably sexy in them. And I was right." Rose reaches for his tie, but he gently pushes her hands away. "Let me see you first," he says quietly. "Please?"
She nods, flushing slightly. He kisses her again, walking her backwards towards the bed until the backs of her knees hit the mattress. Overbalanced, she sits down rather harder than she intended. She flushes deeper and giggles, embarrassed.
He laughs too, but instead of joining her on the bed, he kneels before her. She separates her legs, makes room for him as he slides his hands up her thighs to her hips. She can't resist twining her hands in his thick, soft hair, rubbing his scalp the way she used to do for his twin. His eyes briefly close in pleasure, then open again. "I didn't think we'd ever do this," he says, sliding his hands up under her shirt to caress the small of her back. "I thought...." He trails off, glances away.
"What did you think?" she whispers, though she's afraid she knows.
He takes a breath, then meets her eyes again. "I thought you didn't want me," he says. "That you wanted him, and I wasn't good enough. Second-rate replacement, as it were, not as good as the original."
"Oh, Doctor." She smoothes her hands over his hair. "Never think that again," she tells him. "Never, ever think that again. I'm so sorry I ever made you feel that way. You're more than good enough. You're you."
His eyes brighten suspiciously for a moment before he stretches up enough to kiss her again. This time it's more like the kisses she remembers from him before: gentle, though not tentative, and filled with love. We were so close to losing this, she thinks. So close to missing out on each other just because we weren't talking. Though it wasn't really his fault, that, was it? It was hers, making assumptions, jumping to conclusions. Never again, she vows. I'll never make him feel unwanted again.
He reaches between them and begins undoing her buttons, trailing his lips down her throat to kiss each exposed bit of flesh. He pulls back when they're all undone, pushing her shirt over her shoulders and down her arms, staring at her with a look of mixed reverence and lust. "So beautiful," he murmurs, cupping a breast in each hand. His thumbs swipe over her taut nipples, and she moans lightly. "You're more beautiful now than you were before Canary Wharf. Far more beautiful than I ever imagined you could be." He looks up at her. "I'm a killer, Rose," he says, so quietly she almost can't hear. "And not just a killer-I've wiped out whole species, killed millions with a single blow. I've caused the deaths of innocents. I've set events into motion that caused pain and suffering for untold millions, even billions more, and I've spent my whole life running away from anything resembling responsibility."
"But you're not running any more," she points out. "You could, but you're not. You're here, and we're gonna make a fantastic life together, Doctor, you an' me."
Silence falls, and the Doctor's gaze meets hers, fathoms-deep. She feels as though she could fall right into them. Almost without realising she's doing it, she shifts her hands, presses her fingertips against his temples as she used to do.
And somehow, the link flickers into fragile, trembling life.
Shock fills her, both her own and the Doctor's. It's distant, his reaction, faint and almost hollow-feeling, but it's there and it's definitely his. His eyes are wide now, the pain replaced by a sense of surprise and wonder. Hers, she thinks, must look the same to him.
"Is that-?" he whispers, as if afraid to speak too loudly for fear of breaking the link again.
"Yeah," she whispers back, hearing the wonder in her own voice. "I think so."
He raises a shaky hand, cups her cheek, rests his fingertips against her own temple, closes his eyes in concentration. The link steadies, firms, and she nearly sobs. She's missed this, oh, she's missed this, missed having this connection with him. He opens his eyes and she feels his relief, too, along with amazement and gratitude and love, so much love, washing over her and through her, filling all the empty places that had been so lonely for so long . . . .
He clutches her to him, rests his cheek against her chest like a lost little boy who's just been found. She holds him close, pressing her lips to his hair and opening her end of the link as wide as she can, letting her love flow over him. "Rose," he murmurs. She can hear the thickness in his voice, and knows it's not only because of the link itself; it's the knowledge that he's not lost everything from his Gallifreyan heritage, that he's still the Doctor, still at least part Time Lord, still the man he was, as well as the man he's become.
"I love you," she whispers, knowing that the link tells him so more effectively than the words ever could, but needing to say them all the same.
"I thought it was gone," he says. "I thought all of it was gone. I never imagined . . . ."
He pulls back, looks up at her. The lost look is replaced with something else: hope. Her heart swells, and she smiles. "Come to bed," she says.
Slowly he rises to his feet and, never breaking eye contact, reaches up to pull his tie loose. She scoots back on the bed until she's lying in the middle, head on his pillows as he lets the tie drop and begins on his shirt buttons. He undresses slowly, methodically, never once taking his eyes off her. The link isn't there when they're not touching, of course-it never had been-but she doesn't need it to read his emotions in his face.
Naked now, he reaches into a drawer and pulls out a condom. He rips open the foil packet and rolls the latex on, then crawls onto the bed and strips her out of her pyjama bottoms and knickers before shifting to lie in the cradle of her thighs, their bodies pressed together. The link shivers back to life, and she can feel exactly how much he wants her, wants this. She arches into him, and he groans before reaching down between them and guiding himself into her.
She sucks in a breath as he presses into her. It's been so long that she's forgotten the sensation, forgotten the glorious stretch as her body accomodates his. He pauses, deep inside her, before pulling back and thrusting in again, faster this time. "Oh, God," she whimpers. The feedback through the link is more intense than she remembers; she can feel everything he's feeling as well as her own body's sensations, and it pushes her towards the edge faster than she expected. She bites her lip, trying to hold back, to make this last as long as possible.
He bends down, kisses her throat, whispers in her ear. "I mean to make you come, Rose. As many times as possible. I want to watch you come apart beneath me, over and over again, and know that your pleasure is my doing. I want to take you so far out of yourself that you forget everything but me. And then, when you can't do any more, that's when I'm going to come inside you."
Need rolls through her, and she gasps. "Yes," she whispers. "Oh, God, please, yes." She's so close already, and his words have only made her hotter.
One hand reaches down to press against her clit, and she shatters without warning, a long, deep moan dragged from her throat as her climax shudders through her. He kisses her, his tongue mimicking the way his fingers stroke her, and unbelievably, the sensations don't fade; they ratchet higher, like a coil twisting tighter and tighter inside her. She places her feet flat on the mattress and lifts her hips, grinding into him. He responds by thrusting even harder, and the change in angle is enough for him to hit that spot he used to love so much. She breaks the kiss, throws her head back in another cry as she comes again.
He removes his hand as she comes down from her second orgasm and wraps his arms around her, rolling them so he's on his back and she straddles him. She's panting hard, her muscles weak with the aftereffects of orgasm, but manages to push herself up so she's looking down at him. His skin is flushed, sweaty, human-hot instead of Time Lord-cool, and she decides it's his control that needs to snap. . . and thanks to the link, she knows exactly how to do it.
She leans forward, her hands resting to either side of his head, and lifts herself up away from his hips just slightly. With a wicked smile, she begins rocking her hips--not her whole body, just her hips--feeling him slipping slowly in and out of her in a gentle, almost caressing rhythm. It doesn't take long before his breathing shallows and she can feel the rising tide of desire inside him.
"Rose," he says, and she can hear the strain in his voice. "Rose, I . . . ."
"Shhhh." She kisses him softly. "Let me, Doctor."
"But I . . . I wanted to . . . . "
"You did. And you will again. But for now, let me. Please."
He whimpers, and she can tell that he's getting close. "I love you," she whispers. "I love you, Doctor. I want to do this for you for the rest of our lives. I want to feel you inside of me, want to come around you, want to feel you come." She kisses him again. "Come for me, Doctor."
With a growl, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her down onto him, hard. She gives a little cry at the sensation of him slamming home. He thrusts again, and again, picking up the pace, until at last he tenses and gives an inarticulate cry as he pulses inside her, throbbing with his release and, incredibly, causing her to orgasm again as well. They strain together, bodies tense, the link filled with so much joy and pleasure she almost can't bear it.
At last she collapses on top of him, boneless and sweaty and exhausted, her head on the pillow beside his. His hands stroke lightly up and down her back as they catch their breaths, until at last she has enough strength to sit up. Softened, he slips out of her, and as she rolls to the side he turns to the edge of the bed to dispose of the condom. Turning back to her, he tugs the duvet up over them and gathers her close, pressing his lips to her hair as she snuggles against him.
It's silent for a long moment, neither of them willing to break the mood with speech. They don't really need to speak, anyway; the link is glowing with their love and contentment. Finally, though, he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Thank you," he says quietly.
She smiles against his chest. "I love you," she replies.
He kisses her forehead, and curled up together, the Doctor and Rose fall asleep.