Fic: Progress (A First Time For Everything)
Title: Progress (A First Time For Everything)
Author: meself, fid_gin
Beta: unfolded73
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Rose
Rating: R for sexual situations
Disclaimer: I own nothing, all hail the BBC
Summary: Stuck on Earth for the evening, the Doctor and Rose try something new for both of them.
Notes: FinSoFicMo strikes again! This time it's yet another incident-at-Jackie's fic, only this one I started months back before any of the others, but had a hard time finishing it due to the improbable subject matter. To be frank: this fic is about mutual masturbation, so if that idea squicks you then best stay away. However, I'll just say that my beta was also kind-of uncomfortable about that, then went on to proclaim this "Hot, very hot." Timeline is indistinct, but definitely post-SR...say mid to late S2. References to Starfall and the TARDIS' locking security measures borrowed without permission from The Resurrection Casket by Justin Richards.
Things did not always progress for Rose Tyler the way she imagined.
She didn’t just lose her job at the shop: it blew up. She didn’t leave Mickey for just another bloke, but for a time travelling alien. So, she reasoned with herself as she lay next to the Doctor in her old bed, it made a certain sense that the first time she had an orgasm with the Doctor had not gone quite how she’d always fantasized it would. Had not even, to be honest, been brought on by him, even though he’d been lying right next to her the whole time.
“If someone had told me,” she said aloud, still a bit breathless and giggly and not quite wanting to separate from him, “that someday I’d do that in front of anyone, let alone an alien sharing my old bed in my mum’s flat, I’d have called them a nutter.”
“You just needed to meet the right alien,” the Doctor drawled, sounding lazy and teasing and more than a little smug.
Her mum was gone for the night. Jackie had been first excited, then annoyed, when they’d appeared at her door earlier that evening. “What you mean, ‘your ship’s locked you out?’”
“Safety precaution!” he answered cheerfully. “We had a close call back there, and she locks her doors until she can repair herself. Like back on Starfall, Rose, remember?” he continued to explain, grinning.
“But I’ve got plans!” Jackie had given up trying to reason with the Doctor and was now appealing to Rose directly. “We made reservations and everything!”
“You go on, Mum,” she assured her. “We’ll just camp out here tonight and see you in the morning.” She didn’t take it seriously when Jackie pulled her aside just before leaving, narrowing her eyes and warning her that they’d better behave. It did, however, strike her as odd when she announced her plans to go to bed and the Doctor asked if he could come too.
“But...you don’t sleep!” she said, confused.
“Not much else to do around here, is there? And the TARDIS is locked, remember? I’ll just...rest. Relax. Recoup.” With a flourish, he pulled Howard’s old jimjams from one of his near-bottomless pockets. “Even thought to pack, look!”
Once they’d each changed for bed and awkwardly staked a claim for space in the most-decidedly not double bed, Rose realised that sleep was going to be a long time coming. The room seemed almost supernaturally quiet, and she was conscious of every involuntary shift or twitch of her body this close to his. Several minutes passed while she listened to the Doctor’s breathing, wondering if he was bored, wondering why he’d asked for this.
“You’re not sleeping,” he said suddenly, all the authority in his voice of a man who knows what he’s saying is correct.
“Well, bringing it up isn’t going to help,” she muttered, trying to sound cross but grateful that at least that stifling stillness had been shattered. “It’s hard to fall asleep right away sometimes, especially with someone else there.” The Doctor rolled toward her onto his side - she could just make him out in the darkness her eyes hadn’t yet grown used to. He was watching her with his head propped up by one hand.
“Do I make you nervous, Rose Tyler?” he practically purred, and why did he have to go using that bedroom voice of his, especially considering they were in a bedroom? She knew from past experience that he knew exactly how devastating he could be when he turned the charm on like that, and that when he did it was usually either to wind her up or to get something he wanted, and definitely not flirting in the usual, human sense. But it made her stomach butterfly just the same, now in competition with her racing thoughts to keep her from relaxing even one fraction.
“No,” she said, emphasizing the word. “It’s just weird trying to fall asleep next to someone when you know they’re not going to sleep as well.”
The Doctor appeared to consider that. “I could pretend,” he suggested finally, and she saw his large eyes snap shut just before he uttered a loud, theatrical snore. Rose giggled and kicked at his shins.
“You’re an idiot.”
“I am doing a perfectly valid interpretation of a sleeping human, Rose.”
“Uh-huh, ‘cause all humans snore, right?” she asked, cynically.
“In my experience.”
That shut her up. She wanted to ask what experience that was, and how many experiences, and who with, and a host of other inappropriate questions, but she knew he’d never answer. She was surprised when, several minutes after that thick, uncomfortable silence had descended to hang over them again, he spoke up.
“Yes,” he said softly. “I have shared a bed with a human before.”
“With who?” she asked before she could stop herself, then bit her lip. She thought she could take it, as long as it wasn’t with another companion, as long as what was happening tonight, as innocent as it was, hadn’t happened many times for him in the past.
“Doesn’t matter,” he answered, as though he hadn’t been the one to volunteer the information.
“Right,” she said, hating the clipped tone in her voice and the stinging in her throat. Something about the security of being in her old room, and the oddity of being in bed with the Doctor, made her fearless, and she threw caution to the wind and spoke again. “I’m never going to be first, am I? Everything there is to do...you’ve done it all before.”
“I’m over nine hundred years old, Rose,” he explained gently, as he had many times before. “I don’t think anyone can have many ‘firsts’ left after that long.” He sounded so sad, and she thought she understood why. This was something they couldn’t compromise on, something he couldn’t offer her no matter what. He could give her the stars, the past and the future, but he’d given them to others before her and there would be more once she was gone.
She couldn’t stand to hear him sounding so down, and decided to turn it into a joke. “Have you ever...ridden a hippopotamus?”
The Doctor snuffled with laughter. “Something like it, yeah.”
She wracked her brain for other improbable scenarios. “Seen a unicorn?”
“Oh yeah,” he answered.
“Worn a lampshade on your head?”
“Lampshades are very fashionable in some parts of the galaxy!” They both snickered for a moment: hushed, secretive laughter, as though her mum were in the next room and they were children trying to keep quiet.
“Been skydiving?”
“Does falling from a great height count?”
“Eaten a tarantula?”
He nodded. “Not bad, actually.”
“Wrestled an octopus?”
“A few.”
“Slept with a companion?” Except she didn’t really mean ‘slept’, and she thought he knew that. The question had stuck in her throat since meeting Sarah Jane, since finding out that she wasn’t the first, that there’d been more of them, more of her. Maybe even before that, as far back as World War II and the revelation that the Doctor ‘danced.’ Immediately once the words had passed from her lips the lighthearted atmosphere in the room vanished, and she regretted them.
The Doctor was silent for an agonizingly long time before speaking. “Do you really want to know the answer to that question?”
She thought that was all the answer she needed actually, but she responded just the same. “Probably not,” she admitted around the lump in her throat. She felt embarrassed, exposed - not that her feelings for the Doctor had ever been any great secret, but now it was out in the open. Why on Earth would she ask if not to project her jealousy at the thought of him with someone else, or to establish her chances by gauging whether such taboos had been previously breached with others like her?
She felt his knuckles brush her arm under the blanket, soothing her. “It’s okay to wonder,” he said. “Natural, even, when you share close quarters with someone you’re physically attracted to. You are attracted to me, aren’t you? I mean, I’m attractive.”
Squeezing her eyes shut at what she was about to say, Rose decided to go for broke. “It’s more than that, and you know it.”
The denial or swift change of subject she’d been expecting didn’t come, he only continued softly stroking her arm, leaving a trail of gooseflesh everywhere he touched. “Yes,” he said finally.
She found herself annoyed at his response. Not that she had expected a return at the near-declaration of being in love with him, but it hurt nonetheless when it didn’t happen. “Is that it? ‘Yes’?”
“That’s okay too?” he said after a moment, turning it into a question as though he was pretty sure that wasn’t what she wanted to hear from him. The anger fizzled out of her, and she rolled onto her back, sighing heavily.
“No, it’s not,” she said. He didn’t reply, waiting for her to continue as his finger continued its maddening up, down, up, down journey along her bicep. “I know it’s...complicated, me’n you. But the way I feel isn’t. S’pretty simple, actually.” She trailed off, feeling she’d said enough to justify her silly question and childish reaction. Let him drop it and let her fall into a restless sleep. He’d probably sneak out while she dozed, anyway.
The sound of his voice made her eyes fly open again. “Tell me,” he said, and she turned her head to look into those bottomless eyes, made even blacker by the darkened bedroom, saw that he was serious. Not only that, but his hand had now slipped from her arm to slide across her stomach, drawing a lazy circle around her navel, making her feel dizzy and a little more bold.
Turning her gaze back to the ceiling, she waited for the torrent of words to come. It wasn’t enough to simply blurt out ‘I love you’, not to the Doctor - it was much more than that. An old flash of memory came suddenly, and she seized upon it. “A couple years ago on New Year’s, just before I met you actually, there was this drunk bloke on the estate. He told me that I was gonna have a great year.” She remembered the snow and the vague shape of the stranger in the shadows, and not for the first time since the Doctor’s regeneration, she wondered. “I spent the beginning of that year just waiting around for something wonderful to happen. And then I met you, and it was like I’d been waiting for you. Not just since New Year’s though: all my life. Both of you, ‘cause it’s not every day the man you...that your best friend changes their face, but it didn’t change things. It was still you I wanted and you I thought about when I...” She broke off suddenly, her face warming in embarrassment at what she’d almost said after getting carried off on her ramble.
His breath was warm on her ear when he spoke, and she realised he had moved closer, if that were possible on the tiny bed. “When you what, Rose?” he asked, and the question would have been the picture of innocence had it not been pitched in a low drawl which practically vibrated against her ear, and which she felt through her whole body.
No use denying it, not with her hand over his over her belly, not with their legs entangled, their bare feet becoming acquainted. “What d’you think?” she answered, sarcastically.
“Ah.” Silence fell over them again for a few minutes, Rose hesitant to speak and risk breaking whatever spell was at work making his fingers trace ever-widening circles across her stomach, making him press his lips to her neck, then her cheek. When he finally brought his hand up to her face to carefully turn her head towards him and kissed her properly, it was such a relaxed, easy progression from the comfortable cuddling they’d already been doing that Rose was only a little shocked. It was a soft, unhurried kiss, exploratory and lacking the hesitancy of a first kiss; maybe, she thought, because it technically wasn’t. There was Cassandra of course, she remembered watching, feeling that, trapped inside her own body and cringing with horror, and there was the other time which she’d never admitted to him she remembered, on the Game Station. But this, this was different. Familiar and yet so, so new.
They didn’t break the kiss so much as they let it melt away until they were finally just watching each other, faces inches apart and lips still nearly touching. What now, she wondered, afraid that any move she might make to take things further would spoil the moment.
“Would you show me?” he asked in a whisper, and her mind was still so effectively short-circuited that she didn’t follow. To her questioning expression, he answered: “What you said, a moment ago.”
Retracing their conversation, her mouth dropped open with surprise as understanding dawned. “You’re not serious.” Except she thought he might be, from the way he still continued to nuzzle at her mouth and chin.
“Absolutely,” he breathed from somewhere just under her jaw. His hands were still at work under the duvet, one arm curled under her and holding her against him so that she was beginning to feel how serious he was, the fingers of his other hand circling her nipple through her thin pyjama top. She moaned in spite of herself, rolling her hips forward against his.
“Couldn’t you...y’know...” Her train of thought threatened to flee as his hand slipped under her top, now. “Touch me,” she practically pleaded, grabbing at that hand and trying to guide it down.
He grinned in the darkness, somehow still looking every bit his normal, goofy self even with his rumpled hair and his erection pressed against her belly through his jimjams. “I’d like that, very much,” he said. “But you, Rose Tyler, need to lend me a hand...so to speak.” His grin was not so much daft any more as it was devilish. “You have at your disposal one several century-old alien, who hasn’t been with a human in...well, a long time. Maybe things have changed,” he continued, obviously teasing. “Anatomy is anatomy, of course, but you twenty-first century women are an unpredictable lot, from what I remember.” Definitely teasing now. Rose nudged at his shins once more in a not-even-sort-of kick more designed as an excuse to push her hips against his again, and he inhaled sharply. “Show me how you like to be touched,” he finished, returning his lips to her neck.
Rose considered; her mind was whirling with this surreal situation, but was quickly being overwhelmed by how wonderful it felt to be touched by the Doctor, how wonderful it would feel to share any kind of sexuality with him, even if it wasn’t necessarily like she’d imagined. There was time for them to build up to that later, wasn’t there? He was an alien after all, she reasoned; exceptions could certainly be made for that. There was one thing, though.
“Okay,” she answered, giggling, and he joined her, snickering and hugging her even tighter to him. She grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him up to look him in the eye. “But you first.”
His eyes twinkled in the darkness. “I will,” he said. It sounded like a dare.
“Do it, then,” she dared back.
He drew his other arm out from around her and wiggled beneath the covers, presumably lowering his pyjama trousers. His eyes never left her face, his expression somewhere between bemused and frustrated. “It’s a bit awkward,” he explained. Finally he settled, staring at her expectantly. “Okay.”
Rose licked her lips. “Do it,” she repeated. She saw his arm shift slightly, his body position adjust. His eyes fell closed and he exhaled. She found herself transfixed at seeing him like this, and at the motion of his hand under the mound of blankets. The Doctor was masturbating right next to her, and the thought of it was so powerfully arousing that she couldn’t even bring herself to feel uncomfortable as she parted her legs and slid her hand down the front of her own pyjama bottoms, her fingers sliding easily through the folds of her sex to circle her clit.
“Tell me what you’re doing,” the Doctor said, and it might have been her imagination that his voice already sounded breathy and strained.
“Um, touching myself,” she whispered, feeling silly and sexy and more than a little mad. The Doctor’s eyes opened, his hand continued to move.
“May I feel?” he asked. She nodded, and saw him change position again as he left off his own pleasure to move his hand and lightly touch her wrist where it disappeared under the elastic waist of her sleepwear. He moaned, actually moaned, at the gently circling motions he surely must have felt there, and she couldn’t help but echo him. “Are you...” He swallowed before continuing. “Are you wet, Rose?”
“Yes,” she cried out more than answered, sliding her left hand up his chest, clutching at the fabric of his pyjamas. The Doctor moved his hand from her wrist downward, cupping between her legs, over the fabric of her knickers, feeling her fingers rubbing furiously. They clung to each other, him breathing hard against her neck, her own breath coming in short, mewling gasps. Rose slowed the pace of her fingers, wanting to prolong the moment, but she was so sensitive now. So close...
She was only vaguely aware of him talking her softly through the final seconds before her orgasm, encouraging, pleading. His hand atop hers almost let her forget that she was the one touching herself and not him, the weight of it there light, not quite guiding but not completely lifeless. Finally she shook, her knees locking, her toes curling, and unlike the times when she did this alone she did not close her eyes, because he was right there.
“Okay,” she said breathlessly after a moment, and he didn’t ask for clarification before she felt his hand slide from between her legs and away as he took himself in hand again. Emboldened by his earlier request, she added: “Can I...you know...”
“Please,” he hissed. She fumbled out blindly until she felt the brush of skin, his fingers, curled around himself in a fist and moving.
“What’re you thinking about?” she murmured, unsure of how to continue their weird play. She could feel that his hand had sped up, and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against her shoulder.
“I’m thinking of you, Rose,” he bit out, his breath hot against her. “I want...next time, with you...” He gasped, his sentence trailing off, but she still understood what he was trying to say.
“Next time,” she whispered, “I’ll touch you, and more...would you like that?” He nodded, his eyes closed and his mouth open. She continued to rest her hand over his as he’d done to her, allowing it to be moved up and down along the length of him which she still hadn’t personally felt. “Rose,” he practically growled after a few moments. “I’m going to...” Hot warmth against her hip as he came. A second later when he moved to wrap his arms around her, she couldn’t resist slipping her hand in to take the place of his and briefly touching his cock, sticky and softening. His moans faded into chuckles as he started to come down and they shared a smile, messy and tangled in each other.
“Oh, Rose,” he sighed, almost giggled. She couldn’t help but echo his laughter, at the absurdity of the situation and at how completely wonderful it felt to be pressed against him, wrapped in his arms, still shaky from her orgasm. He kissed her cheeks, her mouth and her nose, and she could feel his face was damp with sweat. “That was fun!” he exclaimed gleefully, his grin closer to that of a 12 year-old boy than a 900 year-old Time Lord.
“If someone had told me,” she said, “that someday I’d do that in front of anyone, let alone an alien sharing my old bed in my mum’s flat, I’d have called them a nutter.”
“You just needed to meet the right alien,” the Doctor replied. “And you know what else, Rose?” She hummed in reply, starting to finally feel a bit drowsy after the endorphin crash, though she still suspected sleep was a ways off. “That was definitely something I’ve never done with someone before.”
“Good,” she replied, adding: “Nice to be remembered for something.”
“Oh Rose,” he repeated. “As if I could ever, ever forget you.”
Author: meself, fid_gin
Beta: unfolded73
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Rose
Rating: R for sexual situations
Disclaimer: I own nothing, all hail the BBC
Summary: Stuck on Earth for the evening, the Doctor and Rose try something new for both of them.
Notes: FinSoFicMo strikes again! This time it's yet another incident-at-Jackie's fic, only this one I started months back before any of the others, but had a hard time finishing it due to the improbable subject matter. To be frank: this fic is about mutual masturbation, so if that idea squicks you then best stay away. However, I'll just say that my beta was also kind-of uncomfortable about that, then went on to proclaim this "Hot, very hot." Timeline is indistinct, but definitely post-SR...say mid to late S2. References to Starfall and the TARDIS' locking security measures borrowed without permission from The Resurrection Casket by Justin Richards.
Things did not always progress for Rose Tyler the way she imagined.
She didn’t just lose her job at the shop: it blew up. She didn’t leave Mickey for just another bloke, but for a time travelling alien. So, she reasoned with herself as she lay next to the Doctor in her old bed, it made a certain sense that the first time she had an orgasm with the Doctor had not gone quite how she’d always fantasized it would. Had not even, to be honest, been brought on by him, even though he’d been lying right next to her the whole time.
“If someone had told me,” she said aloud, still a bit breathless and giggly and not quite wanting to separate from him, “that someday I’d do that in front of anyone, let alone an alien sharing my old bed in my mum’s flat, I’d have called them a nutter.”
“You just needed to meet the right alien,” the Doctor drawled, sounding lazy and teasing and more than a little smug.
Her mum was gone for the night. Jackie had been first excited, then annoyed, when they’d appeared at her door earlier that evening. “What you mean, ‘your ship’s locked you out?’”
“Safety precaution!” he answered cheerfully. “We had a close call back there, and she locks her doors until she can repair herself. Like back on Starfall, Rose, remember?” he continued to explain, grinning.
“But I’ve got plans!” Jackie had given up trying to reason with the Doctor and was now appealing to Rose directly. “We made reservations and everything!”
“You go on, Mum,” she assured her. “We’ll just camp out here tonight and see you in the morning.” She didn’t take it seriously when Jackie pulled her aside just before leaving, narrowing her eyes and warning her that they’d better behave. It did, however, strike her as odd when she announced her plans to go to bed and the Doctor asked if he could come too.
“But...you don’t sleep!” she said, confused.
“Not much else to do around here, is there? And the TARDIS is locked, remember? I’ll just...rest. Relax. Recoup.” With a flourish, he pulled Howard’s old jimjams from one of his near-bottomless pockets. “Even thought to pack, look!”
Once they’d each changed for bed and awkwardly staked a claim for space in the most-decidedly not double bed, Rose realised that sleep was going to be a long time coming. The room seemed almost supernaturally quiet, and she was conscious of every involuntary shift or twitch of her body this close to his. Several minutes passed while she listened to the Doctor’s breathing, wondering if he was bored, wondering why he’d asked for this.
“You’re not sleeping,” he said suddenly, all the authority in his voice of a man who knows what he’s saying is correct.
“Well, bringing it up isn’t going to help,” she muttered, trying to sound cross but grateful that at least that stifling stillness had been shattered. “It’s hard to fall asleep right away sometimes, especially with someone else there.” The Doctor rolled toward her onto his side - she could just make him out in the darkness her eyes hadn’t yet grown used to. He was watching her with his head propped up by one hand.
“Do I make you nervous, Rose Tyler?” he practically purred, and why did he have to go using that bedroom voice of his, especially considering they were in a bedroom? She knew from past experience that he knew exactly how devastating he could be when he turned the charm on like that, and that when he did it was usually either to wind her up or to get something he wanted, and definitely not flirting in the usual, human sense. But it made her stomach butterfly just the same, now in competition with her racing thoughts to keep her from relaxing even one fraction.
“No,” she said, emphasizing the word. “It’s just weird trying to fall asleep next to someone when you know they’re not going to sleep as well.”
The Doctor appeared to consider that. “I could pretend,” he suggested finally, and she saw his large eyes snap shut just before he uttered a loud, theatrical snore. Rose giggled and kicked at his shins.
“You’re an idiot.”
“I am doing a perfectly valid interpretation of a sleeping human, Rose.”
“Uh-huh, ‘cause all humans snore, right?” she asked, cynically.
“In my experience.”
That shut her up. She wanted to ask what experience that was, and how many experiences, and who with, and a host of other inappropriate questions, but she knew he’d never answer. She was surprised when, several minutes after that thick, uncomfortable silence had descended to hang over them again, he spoke up.
“Yes,” he said softly. “I have shared a bed with a human before.”
“With who?” she asked before she could stop herself, then bit her lip. She thought she could take it, as long as it wasn’t with another companion, as long as what was happening tonight, as innocent as it was, hadn’t happened many times for him in the past.
“Doesn’t matter,” he answered, as though he hadn’t been the one to volunteer the information.
“Right,” she said, hating the clipped tone in her voice and the stinging in her throat. Something about the security of being in her old room, and the oddity of being in bed with the Doctor, made her fearless, and she threw caution to the wind and spoke again. “I’m never going to be first, am I? Everything there is to do...you’ve done it all before.”
“I’m over nine hundred years old, Rose,” he explained gently, as he had many times before. “I don’t think anyone can have many ‘firsts’ left after that long.” He sounded so sad, and she thought she understood why. This was something they couldn’t compromise on, something he couldn’t offer her no matter what. He could give her the stars, the past and the future, but he’d given them to others before her and there would be more once she was gone.
She couldn’t stand to hear him sounding so down, and decided to turn it into a joke. “Have you ever...ridden a hippopotamus?”
The Doctor snuffled with laughter. “Something like it, yeah.”
She wracked her brain for other improbable scenarios. “Seen a unicorn?”
“Oh yeah,” he answered.
“Worn a lampshade on your head?”
“Lampshades are very fashionable in some parts of the galaxy!” They both snickered for a moment: hushed, secretive laughter, as though her mum were in the next room and they were children trying to keep quiet.
“Been skydiving?”
“Does falling from a great height count?”
“Eaten a tarantula?”
He nodded. “Not bad, actually.”
“Wrestled an octopus?”
“A few.”
“Slept with a companion?” Except she didn’t really mean ‘slept’, and she thought he knew that. The question had stuck in her throat since meeting Sarah Jane, since finding out that she wasn’t the first, that there’d been more of them, more of her. Maybe even before that, as far back as World War II and the revelation that the Doctor ‘danced.’ Immediately once the words had passed from her lips the lighthearted atmosphere in the room vanished, and she regretted them.
The Doctor was silent for an agonizingly long time before speaking. “Do you really want to know the answer to that question?”
She thought that was all the answer she needed actually, but she responded just the same. “Probably not,” she admitted around the lump in her throat. She felt embarrassed, exposed - not that her feelings for the Doctor had ever been any great secret, but now it was out in the open. Why on Earth would she ask if not to project her jealousy at the thought of him with someone else, or to establish her chances by gauging whether such taboos had been previously breached with others like her?
She felt his knuckles brush her arm under the blanket, soothing her. “It’s okay to wonder,” he said. “Natural, even, when you share close quarters with someone you’re physically attracted to. You are attracted to me, aren’t you? I mean, I’m attractive.”
Squeezing her eyes shut at what she was about to say, Rose decided to go for broke. “It’s more than that, and you know it.”
The denial or swift change of subject she’d been expecting didn’t come, he only continued softly stroking her arm, leaving a trail of gooseflesh everywhere he touched. “Yes,” he said finally.
She found herself annoyed at his response. Not that she had expected a return at the near-declaration of being in love with him, but it hurt nonetheless when it didn’t happen. “Is that it? ‘Yes’?”
“That’s okay too?” he said after a moment, turning it into a question as though he was pretty sure that wasn’t what she wanted to hear from him. The anger fizzled out of her, and she rolled onto her back, sighing heavily.
“No, it’s not,” she said. He didn’t reply, waiting for her to continue as his finger continued its maddening up, down, up, down journey along her bicep. “I know it’s...complicated, me’n you. But the way I feel isn’t. S’pretty simple, actually.” She trailed off, feeling she’d said enough to justify her silly question and childish reaction. Let him drop it and let her fall into a restless sleep. He’d probably sneak out while she dozed, anyway.
The sound of his voice made her eyes fly open again. “Tell me,” he said, and she turned her head to look into those bottomless eyes, made even blacker by the darkened bedroom, saw that he was serious. Not only that, but his hand had now slipped from her arm to slide across her stomach, drawing a lazy circle around her navel, making her feel dizzy and a little more bold.
Turning her gaze back to the ceiling, she waited for the torrent of words to come. It wasn’t enough to simply blurt out ‘I love you’, not to the Doctor - it was much more than that. An old flash of memory came suddenly, and she seized upon it. “A couple years ago on New Year’s, just before I met you actually, there was this drunk bloke on the estate. He told me that I was gonna have a great year.” She remembered the snow and the vague shape of the stranger in the shadows, and not for the first time since the Doctor’s regeneration, she wondered. “I spent the beginning of that year just waiting around for something wonderful to happen. And then I met you, and it was like I’d been waiting for you. Not just since New Year’s though: all my life. Both of you, ‘cause it’s not every day the man you...that your best friend changes their face, but it didn’t change things. It was still you I wanted and you I thought about when I...” She broke off suddenly, her face warming in embarrassment at what she’d almost said after getting carried off on her ramble.
His breath was warm on her ear when he spoke, and she realised he had moved closer, if that were possible on the tiny bed. “When you what, Rose?” he asked, and the question would have been the picture of innocence had it not been pitched in a low drawl which practically vibrated against her ear, and which she felt through her whole body.
No use denying it, not with her hand over his over her belly, not with their legs entangled, their bare feet becoming acquainted. “What d’you think?” she answered, sarcastically.
“Ah.” Silence fell over them again for a few minutes, Rose hesitant to speak and risk breaking whatever spell was at work making his fingers trace ever-widening circles across her stomach, making him press his lips to her neck, then her cheek. When he finally brought his hand up to her face to carefully turn her head towards him and kissed her properly, it was such a relaxed, easy progression from the comfortable cuddling they’d already been doing that Rose was only a little shocked. It was a soft, unhurried kiss, exploratory and lacking the hesitancy of a first kiss; maybe, she thought, because it technically wasn’t. There was Cassandra of course, she remembered watching, feeling that, trapped inside her own body and cringing with horror, and there was the other time which she’d never admitted to him she remembered, on the Game Station. But this, this was different. Familiar and yet so, so new.
They didn’t break the kiss so much as they let it melt away until they were finally just watching each other, faces inches apart and lips still nearly touching. What now, she wondered, afraid that any move she might make to take things further would spoil the moment.
“Would you show me?” he asked in a whisper, and her mind was still so effectively short-circuited that she didn’t follow. To her questioning expression, he answered: “What you said, a moment ago.”
Retracing their conversation, her mouth dropped open with surprise as understanding dawned. “You’re not serious.” Except she thought he might be, from the way he still continued to nuzzle at her mouth and chin.
“Absolutely,” he breathed from somewhere just under her jaw. His hands were still at work under the duvet, one arm curled under her and holding her against him so that she was beginning to feel how serious he was, the fingers of his other hand circling her nipple through her thin pyjama top. She moaned in spite of herself, rolling her hips forward against his.
“Couldn’t you...y’know...” Her train of thought threatened to flee as his hand slipped under her top, now. “Touch me,” she practically pleaded, grabbing at that hand and trying to guide it down.
He grinned in the darkness, somehow still looking every bit his normal, goofy self even with his rumpled hair and his erection pressed against her belly through his jimjams. “I’d like that, very much,” he said. “But you, Rose Tyler, need to lend me a hand...so to speak.” His grin was not so much daft any more as it was devilish. “You have at your disposal one several century-old alien, who hasn’t been with a human in...well, a long time. Maybe things have changed,” he continued, obviously teasing. “Anatomy is anatomy, of course, but you twenty-first century women are an unpredictable lot, from what I remember.” Definitely teasing now. Rose nudged at his shins once more in a not-even-sort-of kick more designed as an excuse to push her hips against his again, and he inhaled sharply. “Show me how you like to be touched,” he finished, returning his lips to her neck.
Rose considered; her mind was whirling with this surreal situation, but was quickly being overwhelmed by how wonderful it felt to be touched by the Doctor, how wonderful it would feel to share any kind of sexuality with him, even if it wasn’t necessarily like she’d imagined. There was time for them to build up to that later, wasn’t there? He was an alien after all, she reasoned; exceptions could certainly be made for that. There was one thing, though.
“Okay,” she answered, giggling, and he joined her, snickering and hugging her even tighter to him. She grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him up to look him in the eye. “But you first.”
His eyes twinkled in the darkness. “I will,” he said. It sounded like a dare.
“Do it, then,” she dared back.
He drew his other arm out from around her and wiggled beneath the covers, presumably lowering his pyjama trousers. His eyes never left her face, his expression somewhere between bemused and frustrated. “It’s a bit awkward,” he explained. Finally he settled, staring at her expectantly. “Okay.”
Rose licked her lips. “Do it,” she repeated. She saw his arm shift slightly, his body position adjust. His eyes fell closed and he exhaled. She found herself transfixed at seeing him like this, and at the motion of his hand under the mound of blankets. The Doctor was masturbating right next to her, and the thought of it was so powerfully arousing that she couldn’t even bring herself to feel uncomfortable as she parted her legs and slid her hand down the front of her own pyjama bottoms, her fingers sliding easily through the folds of her sex to circle her clit.
“Tell me what you’re doing,” the Doctor said, and it might have been her imagination that his voice already sounded breathy and strained.
“Um, touching myself,” she whispered, feeling silly and sexy and more than a little mad. The Doctor’s eyes opened, his hand continued to move.
“May I feel?” he asked. She nodded, and saw him change position again as he left off his own pleasure to move his hand and lightly touch her wrist where it disappeared under the elastic waist of her sleepwear. He moaned, actually moaned, at the gently circling motions he surely must have felt there, and she couldn’t help but echo him. “Are you...” He swallowed before continuing. “Are you wet, Rose?”
“Yes,” she cried out more than answered, sliding her left hand up his chest, clutching at the fabric of his pyjamas. The Doctor moved his hand from her wrist downward, cupping between her legs, over the fabric of her knickers, feeling her fingers rubbing furiously. They clung to each other, him breathing hard against her neck, her own breath coming in short, mewling gasps. Rose slowed the pace of her fingers, wanting to prolong the moment, but she was so sensitive now. So close...
She was only vaguely aware of him talking her softly through the final seconds before her orgasm, encouraging, pleading. His hand atop hers almost let her forget that she was the one touching herself and not him, the weight of it there light, not quite guiding but not completely lifeless. Finally she shook, her knees locking, her toes curling, and unlike the times when she did this alone she did not close her eyes, because he was right there.
“Okay,” she said breathlessly after a moment, and he didn’t ask for clarification before she felt his hand slide from between her legs and away as he took himself in hand again. Emboldened by his earlier request, she added: “Can I...you know...”
“Please,” he hissed. She fumbled out blindly until she felt the brush of skin, his fingers, curled around himself in a fist and moving.
“What’re you thinking about?” she murmured, unsure of how to continue their weird play. She could feel that his hand had sped up, and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against her shoulder.
“I’m thinking of you, Rose,” he bit out, his breath hot against her. “I want...next time, with you...” He gasped, his sentence trailing off, but she still understood what he was trying to say.
“Next time,” she whispered, “I’ll touch you, and more...would you like that?” He nodded, his eyes closed and his mouth open. She continued to rest her hand over his as he’d done to her, allowing it to be moved up and down along the length of him which she still hadn’t personally felt. “Rose,” he practically growled after a few moments. “I’m going to...” Hot warmth against her hip as he came. A second later when he moved to wrap his arms around her, she couldn’t resist slipping her hand in to take the place of his and briefly touching his cock, sticky and softening. His moans faded into chuckles as he started to come down and they shared a smile, messy and tangled in each other.
“Oh, Rose,” he sighed, almost giggled. She couldn’t help but echo his laughter, at the absurdity of the situation and at how completely wonderful it felt to be pressed against him, wrapped in his arms, still shaky from her orgasm. He kissed her cheeks, her mouth and her nose, and she could feel his face was damp with sweat. “That was fun!” he exclaimed gleefully, his grin closer to that of a 12 year-old boy than a 900 year-old Time Lord.
“If someone had told me,” she said, “that someday I’d do that in front of anyone, let alone an alien sharing my old bed in my mum’s flat, I’d have called them a nutter.”
“You just needed to meet the right alien,” the Doctor replied. “And you know what else, Rose?” She hummed in reply, starting to finally feel a bit drowsy after the endorphin crash, though she still suspected sleep was a ways off. “That was definitely something I’ve never done with someone before.”
“Good,” she replied, adding: “Nice to be remembered for something.”
“Oh Rose,” he repeated. “As if I could ever, ever forget you.”