the third kiss
Title: the third kiss
Author: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Smutty-ish, but not explicitly so
Word Count: 475
Characters: Rose/Ten
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Ain't mine.
Summary: He wants to kiss the real Rose Tyler.
He hasn't been able to stop thinking about the way her lips felt against his ear. Never mind that it was Cassandra inside her head, it was Rose's breasts against his chest, her hips swiveling to touch his as she stood on her toes to whisper in his ear.
And she's still wearing that shirt, unbuttoned at the top and offering him that very tantalizing view of her cleavage. She's leaning against the console and her arms are up, hands fussing with her hair, completely oblivious to his gaze upon her and the way the edge of her shirt rises up to show off just the barest hint of her stomach.
His feet bring him forward, almost of their own volition, and he slides his arms around her waist, pressing his lips to hers. She's surprised but grips his jacket in her hands, pulling him to her. He's kissed Rose Tyler three times now, and each time she's tasted different. The first was tainted with the essence of time and power and pain and the second, just hours ago, full of lust and duplicity and just a touch of desperation, but now she's just Rose, tasting of chips and chocolate, fierce compassion and loyalty, bright smiles and rich laughter, and it's this Rose he's wanted for so long now.
His hands find the front of her shirt, unbuttoning the last few buttons and slipping the shirt from her shoulders, tossing it somewhere behind him while his lips drift to Rose's chest, kissing the space between her breasts and smelling the vaguest hint of the perfume bottle Cassandra had placed there earlier.
Her fingers stutter around the collar of his jacket, pushing it back, and he pulls it off as she unties his tie and uses it to pull him forward again, grinning against his lips as she kisses him. She drops it to the floor and her hands slide down to his waist, yanking his shirt from his trousers and sliding her hands along his sides, up to lightly brush his ribs and then down, her fingers venturing beneath the waist of his pants and causing him to shiver.
They somehow wind up on the floor, assorted bits of clothing between them and the rough grating. She cries out his name and it seems to spiral around the room, echoing in the farthest corners as she holds tightly to him, her breath warm against his neck.
She falls asleep not long after, curled against his side and he pulls his trench coat over them, more for her sake than his own.
He stares up at the ceiling, at the console with its comforting green glow, always a constant reminder of adventure, of running with her hand clasped tightly in his, and thinks that this time he might just be able to let himself love her.
Author: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Smutty-ish, but not explicitly so
Word Count: 475
Characters: Rose/Ten
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Ain't mine.
Summary: He wants to kiss the real Rose Tyler.
He hasn't been able to stop thinking about the way her lips felt against his ear. Never mind that it was Cassandra inside her head, it was Rose's breasts against his chest, her hips swiveling to touch his as she stood on her toes to whisper in his ear.
And she's still wearing that shirt, unbuttoned at the top and offering him that very tantalizing view of her cleavage. She's leaning against the console and her arms are up, hands fussing with her hair, completely oblivious to his gaze upon her and the way the edge of her shirt rises up to show off just the barest hint of her stomach.
His feet bring him forward, almost of their own volition, and he slides his arms around her waist, pressing his lips to hers. She's surprised but grips his jacket in her hands, pulling him to her. He's kissed Rose Tyler three times now, and each time she's tasted different. The first was tainted with the essence of time and power and pain and the second, just hours ago, full of lust and duplicity and just a touch of desperation, but now she's just Rose, tasting of chips and chocolate, fierce compassion and loyalty, bright smiles and rich laughter, and it's this Rose he's wanted for so long now.
His hands find the front of her shirt, unbuttoning the last few buttons and slipping the shirt from her shoulders, tossing it somewhere behind him while his lips drift to Rose's chest, kissing the space between her breasts and smelling the vaguest hint of the perfume bottle Cassandra had placed there earlier.
Her fingers stutter around the collar of his jacket, pushing it back, and he pulls it off as she unties his tie and uses it to pull him forward again, grinning against his lips as she kisses him. She drops it to the floor and her hands slide down to his waist, yanking his shirt from his trousers and sliding her hands along his sides, up to lightly brush his ribs and then down, her fingers venturing beneath the waist of his pants and causing him to shiver.
They somehow wind up on the floor, assorted bits of clothing between them and the rough grating. She cries out his name and it seems to spiral around the room, echoing in the farthest corners as she holds tightly to him, her breath warm against his neck.
She falls asleep not long after, curled against his side and he pulls his trench coat over them, more for her sake than his own.
He stares up at the ceiling, at the console with its comforting green glow, always a constant reminder of adventure, of running with her hand clasped tightly in his, and thinks that this time he might just be able to let himself love her.