This is a work in progress. It is also NSFW.
LIVEJOURNAL YOU ARE A BUTT.
AHEM. This is part of a 'Dragonriders of Pern'/Doctor Who crossover featuring Rose, Ten, and an injured TARDIS. I wish to sexually frustrate you all.
Enjoy! :D
Five days of being in close quarters with the Doctor was beginning to wear on Rose's resolve. It was easy in the TARDIS; the ship was huge, after all, and if she needed to blow off steam she found the garden or the swimming pool or asked the TARDIS to hide her for a while. In Bendan Weyr, with the TARDIS still repairing herself, Rose had no such luxuries. The suite of rooms she and the Doctor had been given were very nice-much nicer than she had expected, in fact-but they were finite and the TARDIS was not. There was nowhere she could get away from him, when his lazy smile and messy hair made her ache, when he stood just behind her-close enough that she could feel the slight chill radiating from him, when he murmured in her ear-his lips a hairsbreadth away.
She finally discovered the one place he wouldn't follow her-the bath attached to their rooms. The bedroom, with its single (albeit large) bed and thick rugs over the smooth stone floors was fair game, as was the sitting/dining room and the small kitchen and the balcony that overlooked the lake at the heart of the Weyr. He wouldn't disturb her when she was bathing, though Rose was fairly certain it wasn't respect for her privacy (he cheerfully invaded that whenever he saw fit) that kept him away. No. In Rose's opinion, it was her distinct lack of clothing that resulted in her solitude. He had no respect for boundaries or personal space, but when she wore anything revealing his ears turned red and he refused to so much as look at her. It made her a bit smug, truth be told, but that was when she had an outlet for her own frustrations and a way to escape him.
She was in the bath, trying to get a handle on her runaway emotions, when the sound of the curtain separating the bath from the bedroom being pulled aside intruded on her thoughts. Her back was to the doorway, but she could feel his eyes on her like a caress. She shivered.
"Occupied, Doctor," Rose called. He didn't answer. She wrapped her arms over her chest, hiding as much of her breasts as she could. "Seriously, get out."
The Doctor remained silent except for the harsh sound of his breaths, which echoed off the sloping stone walls of the chamber. She frowned. It wasn't like him to be silent for so long, not like him at all.
Rose checked to make sure that she was covered-well-as covered as she could be, standing in the bath, naked, and turned to face him. He remained in the doorway, hands clenched into fists, the dimple on his jaw that only appeared when he was angry or under a great deal of stress twitching as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. His shoulders were bowed, and he sucked breath in through his teeth; he was the picture of a man under pressure.
She reached for him. It was instinct and habit but she realized her mistake when his eyes dropped to her chest and his tongue darted out briefly to wet his lips. Rose replaced her arms over her breasts and tried (failed) to control the blush spreading across her face and down her neck. "Doctor?" she asked hesitantly. "Is something wrong?"
With what looked like an inhuman burst of will he closed his eyes and drew in a normal breath. "You have to leave," he told her, eyes still pressed tightly shut. "You have to go."
"What, while you're like this?" she asked, disbelieving. He nodded. Rose snorted. "Yeah, like that's ever gonna happen. Can you, you know." She gestured vaguely. "Turn your head, maybe?"
He did so. She moved to the edge of the pool as quickly as she could. There was an itch building inside her skin, a tension that she could feel also radiating from the Doctor like heat from pavement on a summer day. He was very nearly panting and it was doing strange things to her insides. A loose robe lay across a bench near the wall and she slipped it on and tied it shut. Her hair would be a mess if she left it to air dry, but the Doctor was in distress and that was infinitely more important. "You can look now," she said eventually. "I'm decent."
"I'd prefer not to." His voice was clipped and flat. "Easier that way."
"Easier how?"
He refused to answer. Rose marched towards him until she was close enough to slap him, which she just might do if he kept being such a bloody berk. "What the hell is going on, Doctor?"
He opened his eyes. Perhaps getting so close wasn't the best idea, because she could smell him now, the familiar, warm scent of man and books and tea and something new, darker. It was familiar and gorgeous and slowly turning her insides to goo. And his eyes-they were large and brown but all the softness had gone out of them. He was a wolf, not a puppy, and he looked at her like she was something small and helpless and delicious. She shivered. His nostrils flared. He took a deep breath and a muscle in his jaw twitched.
"If you don't leave," he said softly, "I can't guarantee your safety."
Rose blinked. Of all the things he could have said, that was unexpected. "Whatever's going on, Doctor-you're not going to hurt me. You're not. You'd never-well, not unless you were trying to get me to leave you because you were convinced that I'd be better off with my mum living a boring life of chips and telly and dead-end jobs than off seeing the stars-but I'm pretty sure that's not what's going on here."
Her tone was possibly a bit facetious and she didn't care. He deserved every bit of that sarcasm after Sarah Jane and Reinette, but they'd moved beyond it, they really had, and the TARDIS was still broken so he couldn't just whisk her away home on a whim. They were stuck here, in this time, well and truly.
"No. No, it's not." His voice was low and soft, rough and smooth at the same time. It was the sort of voice men used when they tried to get into her knickers, but to the best of her knowledge, that wasn't happening either. Not that she was wearing knickers under the soft blue robe that clung to her damp skin.
She almost touched his arm, but he flinched away from her hand and she let it fall back to her side. "Explain, Doctor. What is going on."
He took another deep breath and started to speak. "Ramoth is blooding her kill."
Rose blinked. "An' what's that to the price of tea in China?"
The Doctor continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Before the queen rises to mate she drains the blood from several kills to get the quick energy she needs for a mating flight. Eating the carcasses would slow her down, make her lethargic, and that would mean a small clutch of eggs for the next hatching. The ovum that develop into the fetuses are fertilized during flight, so the idea is to have a long one. But it's so much more than that. Ramoth is Lessa's gold."
"An' Lessa's the Weyrwoman," Rose added.
"And F'lar is Weyrleader because Mnementh managed to catch Ramoth on her first mating flight-and every flight since then."
She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. "Is that what this is about, Doctor? Is F'lar in danger? Is someone else gonna be Weyrleader?"
He chuckled darkly. "No one flies Ramoth but Mnementh." His fingers brushed against her skin and then curled into her hair as he cupped her cheek with one hand. "And if I had my way-no one would touch you, no one but me."
"This isn't you." Her voice was shaking and she was trembling. "This isn't you at all."
He licked his lips and her eyes followed his tongue. "This is exactly me, Rose. This is how I would be all the time, every day, if I didn't keep a very tight lid on my biochemical reactions."
For the first time in a very long while, Rose Tyler was speechless. She'd known that he cared for her, possibly that he found her attractive, but she'd never caught even a hint that he might feel as strongly as he apparently did. Did he know that she returned his feelings? That only the last shreds of her self-control were keeping her from wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him until they were both breathless? He was beautiful and wild and so alien. It should frighten her, should make her pull away, but it didn't. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears and she couldn't catch her breath and if he didn't kiss her right now she was going to explode.
He didn't, of course. He kept talking. "But the Dragons share a telepathic connection and we pick up on it-that's how we can hear them talking. It's like tuning into the correct radio station, except a million times more difficult and also in your head. Right now the bronzes, and some browns, are blooding their kills as well. They're getting ready to mate."
She knew he was talking, vaguely. His eyes, brown and hard and blazing, were burning holes into her soul and the gentle tug of his fingers entwined in her hair was sending warmth throughout her entire body. Her tongue darted out of her mouth, moistened her suddenly chapped lips. His eyes flickered to her mouth and he rocked forward, just a hair. She tilted her head back a fraction of an inch. His other hand moved to her cheek, adjusted the angle of her chin.
A loud roar broke the spell. The Doctor took a shuddering breath. "That's it then-Ramoth has taken flight." His eyes shot briefly to the cloth covering their window to the Weyr's center. "The telepathic connection is wide open, and it's strong. I can't get out-I've tried-and it's bypassing my shields."
"S that a bad thing, then?" Rose asked, struggling to concentrate on what he was saying and not the way his lips moved and the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed or the way her teeth would fit just there.
"I have conscious control of nearly every bodily function." By all rights those words should not have sounded sexy, but Rose was fairly certain that the Doctor could read the Dictionary to her and by the time he got to the 'B' section she'd be a puddle of want on the floor. "It's part of being a Time Lord, that nearly compulsive need for control. It's why you're dangerous-I'm never as out of control as I am around you, this moment being the exception, of course."
"Of course," she agreed faintly, still trying to process what he'd said. She was dangerous?
"But the link," he continued, "it's beyond control, before control. This isn't sex, Rose, this is mating. This is instinct, the primitive part of Gallifreyans that Rassilon, in his search for true control that would ultimately lead to madness, suppressed. Supposedly loomed it out of us-but apparently not. I have hormones and pheromones and neurotransmitters running amok and I cannot stop them. Every fiber of my being is screaming to shove you against a wall and fuck you until my legs give out."
Yes, she thought and it was completely subconscious, the way her hands stroked up his chest and gripped the lapels of his jacket; it had nothing to do with the way his words were affecting her, and his scent, and the knowledge that she wanted very much to take him up on that offer and also to ride him until he came with her name on his lips.
"What?" he asked and she realized that she may have said that first bit out loud. Hell, she may have said the last bit too. Her mouth wasn't working quite right and neither was her brain, for that matter.
"Yes," she repeated, and she would have said it again but his lips were pressed against hers and his tongue was in her mouth and his hands tightened in her hair and her hands tightened in his lapels and they were both wearing far, far too many layers. He was burning her everywhere they touched and that should have bothered her because he was usually so cold but her mind was occupied with his hand, which had released her hair and found its way inside her robe and was learning the curve of her breasts and the way her nipples hardened when he brushed them with clever fingers.
Rose moaned and the Doctor shuddered. His hands left her hair and her breasts and went to work on the tie of the robe. While he was thus occupied she threaded an arm between his and reached down to stroke him through his trousers. His fingers froze and his hips thrust out to chase her light touches. She withdrew her hand and he groaned, but the tie was loose enough that she could shrug out of the robe. Rose pulled at his suit jacket and he obliged, stripping out of his clothing with more speed than she thought possible. His trousers gave him problems, but only because he was extremely hard-and also because he apparently didn't wear pants.
His trainers, too, were a source of ire as he hopped on one foot, trying to get the tightly-laced shoe off. Rose eventually grabbed his foot and pulled it down to the floor, which put her lips just in front of his erection, close enough that her breath ghosted across his stomach and the lean muscles tightened in anticipation. She refrained from licking him like she wanted to, because what she really wanted was his cock inside of her and that wasn't going to happen if she sucked him off. The shoes took a moment-he tied extremely good knots and she wasn't going to follow that thought to its logical conclusion, she wasn't going to think about what it would be like to let him tie her up and ravish her.
Oops. Too late.