FIC: A Malfunctioning Wardrobe - NC17 - Rose/Ten
Title: A Malfunctioning Wardrobe
Author: Jinni (jinni.fanfic@gmail.com)
Rated: NC17
Disclaimer: All things Doctor Who belong to the BBC, et al.
Spoilers: Up to Army of Ghosts in s2, just to be safe.
Summary: The tardis was going to have a lot to answer for when this was all said and done.
~*~*~
Now, that was odd.
The Doctor frowned, lips pressing together in a thin line.
Really! Definitely odd. He knew for a fact that he had brought a change of clothes into the bathroom with him when he stepped in to shower off the goo that the Spectreians had lobbed at himself and Rose during their madcap run for their lives earlier that day. He could vividly remember hanging the suit and a change of shirt up on the back of the door.
Wasn’t there now, though. Not a scrap of cloth, pinstripe or other. He pushed at the ruined clothes on the floor, careful not to get any of the goo on his newly showered toes. Wouldn’t do, that. Spectreian goo smelled like rotten eggs and he didn’t fancy smelling like refuse again. Not this soon after having scrubbed down, anyhow.
Was it possible that he had left his change of clothes on the bed?
Still holding the towel closed, the Doctor opened the bathroom door. Steam poured out behind him in a misty puff as he blinked to adjust his eyes to the relatively dimmer lighting of his living space.
No. No clothes on the bed.
“Well, now. That’s interesting,’ he muttered, lifting up the bedcovers. No suit there, either. It couldn’t have just gotten up and walked away. The Doctor paused, brow furrowing with concentration. No, no, of course not. Wasn’t that type of clothing. Never had much use for the kind that could move on their own - always flashing the wrong bits at the wrongs times, never taking themselves to the wash. Quite annoying.
He sighed. Well, that suit was definitely just… gone. He’d liked it, too. Same colors as the rest, but this one seemed to fit just a little better. Or maybe not. Yes, probably not. Was the same suit after all. Only thing he ever changed was his shirt.
The closet doors were open when he turned and so the Doctor didn’t labor under the mistaken notion that he could just grab up another suit for very long. He bit the inside of his cheek, both perplexed and vexed at once.
”This your doing, old girl?” he murmured, glancing around the room. No clothing inside. No trousers or shirts, jackets or vests. Nothing. Not a jumper or sock or even underthings for him to slip on. Shoes, yes. But where were shoes going to get him. He’d look right silly in just a pair of shoes. Only way this could have happened was if the tardis had gotten it into her head to take his clothes.
Either that, or there was a clothing thief on board. Unlikely, at best.
Or - and this thought made the Doctor’s lips curl up in a smile - Rose could be playing a joke on him. He rocked back and forth a bit, playing that idea over and over in his head. Rose sneaking into his room, taking all his clothes. Rose sneaking into the bathroom, while he was washing up, and taking that suit, too.
Wait, no. Rose would not have come into the bathroom while he was showering. All the hints he had thrown at her over the course of their travels together, and not once had she taken it upon herself to take him up on the offer of ‘companionship’ in a truly physical sense. Resigned himself a long time ago to the fact that Rose didn’t fancy him - that’s what he’d done.
The smile slipped, until nothing remained.
So that scenario was out. Which left, again, only the tardis being willful and mischievous.
But to what end?
Not that it mattered. Only one thing that could be done now, short of coaxing the tardis to give him back his clothing - he’d have to get to the wardrobe and find something new to wear for the time being. Until either he *did* get his clothes back from the tardis, or they stopped somewhere selling more suits.
The hallway was empty when he peered outside of his door. The Doctor clutched the corners of his towel more tightly, checking to make sure he was suitably covered, and then started out at a dead run. He’d get to the wardrobe and get this sorted before Rose even knew something had happened. Oh, sure, she’d wonder why he wasn’t wearing his suit, but that he’d explain away. Somehow.
Fortunately, he didn’t see her during the short trip to the wardrobe.
Unfortunately, the wardrobe room door was not where it was supposed to be. No door at all, for that matter. The Doctor’s eyes went wide as he stared at the blank wall.
”This is not funny,” he murmured under his breath, casting a disparaging glare at the ceiling, then over his shoulder, then again at the blank wall. “Not funny at -“
The Doctor paused, mouth dropping open in surprise. Rose was there, at the corner of the hallway.
And she was wrapped only in a towel.
The towel at his waist twitched as his body realized that which his mind was still trying to come to terms with.
Rose..
.. in a towel.
“Oh!” her soft exclamation penetrated the Doctor’s lust-fogged thoughts, as she apparently realized that not only was he there, but that he was in a similar state of undress. “You lose your clothes too, then?”
Nodding, the Doctor tried his best to appear nonchalant even though he was feeling far from it. There she was, the girl that had haunted his dreams for months and months on end, and she was dressed only in a pink towel. Well, two pink towels, if he was going to consider the one that she had her hair wrapped in.
Where had she found pink towels on the tardis, anyway?
“Um, yes,” he nodded. “All of them, it would appear.”
Rose was a bit flushed. Couldn’t blame her. Traipsing through the tardis in nothing but a towel, she was going to catch a cold. Then he’d have a sick companion on his hands. He hoped the tardis would be happy, then. No traipsing through time and space - no, it would be lots of staying still until Rose got better. He’d have it no other way.
”Mine too,” Rose nodded. There was a thoughtful look in her eyes. “Wonder what’s going on.”
”Oh, just a malfunction, I’m sure.”
One eyebrow rose as she edged closer, looking at the spot on the wall where the door to the wardrobe should have been. “You mean like the missin’ door?”
”Yes. Exactly like that.” He was thankful that, so far, her concentration had been centered above waist-level, because having Rose standing in front of him in nothing but a towel was doing things to his body that the Doctor didn’t really want Rose to notice. For instance, when his gaze grazed over the drops of water that were lingering on her skin - a remnant of the wetness that still sometimes dripped down from her hair - he couldn’t help but feel an all-too familiar tug in the pit of his stomach, an involuntary flex of muscles that had no business flexing, as he saw the gentle curve of her breasts under the towel. Not very large - especially by various standards throughout the universe - but they always managed to look so perfect on her.
Towels did not hide much, all things considered, the Doctor bemoaned silently as he tried not to call attention to the portion of his anatomy that was very, very interested in Rose’s body.
Very.
“So - what’re we going to do, then?” She crossed her arms over her chest and the towel around her shifted. The Doctor’s eyes went automatically to the opening in the two sides of the terry cloth, marveling at the creamy expanse of thigh that was now showing. Yes, he liked that. He liked that far, far more than he should have. “We can’t very well go about in towels.”
No, they couldn’t. Not that the idea wasn’t tempting on a scale that Rose could not possibly imagine with her poor human brain. To just say - screw it all - never leave the tardis again and just spend all of their time in here, with towels.
Then again, never leaving the tardis did not sound like fun in the least, the more he thought about it.
”Well - first thing is I try to figure out what the problem is,” the Doctor slowly managed, working through a plan as he went. “And if that doesn’t work, we land back in London and you ring your mum to bring some clothes around for you so that you can then go shopping for the both of us.”
Rose Tyler, on a shopping excursion to replenish their flagging wardrobe choices. The idea was enough to frighten the edge off of his lusts for a moment. Nothing more than that - just a moment - and then Rose had moved again and the towel was slipping a bit more and he was just… lost.
He swallowed hard when she cleared her throat, aware that he had been staring and also very much aware that he had, quite possibly, been caught due in part to his latest lapse of attention.
Yes, definitely. She had caught him looking. There was a pleased, coy look on her face. A smirk, if ever he had seen one. She had that damned tongue resting on the inside of her cheek and the slight bulge in her skin made him think of other things that could be right there, in the warmth of her mouth.
Not. The. Thought. He. Needed.
”You okay, there?” Rose asked, voice syrupy sweet. The Doctor held her eyes.
“Fine. Just thinking of ways to get our clothing back from the tardis.”
“Uh huh.”
So, she hadn’t bought that excuse, then. Okay.
Neither had he, though, so fair was fair.
Then her eyes strayed. Down, down, down - and he was sure that he would blush if she didn’t look away soon. There was no way for her not to see what she made him feel - the reaction of his blasted body to hers. Resisting the urge to shut his eyes, the Doctor forced a cocky smile on his lips just as she looked up. It was hard -
… oh, now that was an awful pun, waiting to happen.
“See something you like?”
Trite! Of all the trite, human lines he could come up with right at that moment. That was it, he was picking up Captain Jack when all this was over and he was going to force the former Time Agent to teach him some better lines. Just in case.
Oddly, Rose didn’t seem to notice the triteness. Or, perhaps, she didn’t care? The way her tongue flicked out, over her lip, before disappearing into her mouth again. Was that an invitation?
The Doctor sucked in a ragged breath and Rose’s sly smirk grew.
”Perhaps.”
The distance between the two of them decreased so slowly that the Doctor didn’t even realize it was happening until that very prominent part of his anatomy was pressing against Rose. He wasn’t sure, in the end, if it was he that moved or Rose or a combination of both of them.
Then again, maybe it didn’t matter.
The cold metal wall of the hall hit his back one moment before his lips were on Rose’s. That was his doing, the kissing. He leaned down and put his lips on hers, tasting her with one swipe of his tongue over her lower lip. A hiss of air escaped her lips, but Rose didn’t pull away. The Doctor groaned, encouraged; he pressed harder against Rose’s lips. He forced his tongue between them, delving into her mouth when she parted for him. Rose tasted like sweetness. Oh, yes, there had been candies earlier. Candies from the bazaar - a sweet that tasted almost like chocolate, but better. She tasted like that, still.
It was unconscious, then; the way his hips pressed forward, sliding his hardness against her barely-toweled form. He moaned, she whimpered. Thoughts were flying through his head - the major one being whether or not he should even be doing this. The second was that, yes, she felt something for him like he felt for her. Those hints he’d been dropping, the hand holding and other bits of miscellany, were not wasted on her.
She ground her hips into his, pressing him against the wall and now it was the Doctor’s turn to gasp. Rose’s hands were on him. He felt vaguely taken advantage of as she caressed his stomach with her fingers, grabbing and holding on when she reached his sides. The slow rotation of her hips against his left little to the imagination about what she wanted out of this.
Thankfully, it was the same thing that he wanted.
The towel slipped a bit with the next rotation of her hips and the Doctor’s soft moan turned into a loud groan that filled the hallway. Things were happening so fast. When he’d pictured this - and he had, in his head, repeatedly - it had gone slower, softer. More romantic. Not a frantic dropping of towels in the hallway. Skin meeting skin. Rose’s leg hitched up over his hip as he turned her, putting her against the wall so hard that she ‘oofed’.
She cried out a little when he entered her and it wasn’t because she wasn’t ready for him. The Doctor experienced a moderate amount of purely male pride over her reaction to him, inside of her. The little whimpers that were coming out of her mouth were music to his ears. Her nails clutched at his shoulders, mouth at his ear.
Sweat trickled down his neck, a wet line down his spine, as he moved in and out of her. Not slow. Oh, no - not slow at all. Not when he had waited so long and she was making those noises, practically begging him to go faster, harder. He was moving fast and enjoying every moment of the exquisite friction that her body created around that aching part of his anatomy.
”Rose -“ he growled under his breath. His fingers were on her hips, digging in. He could be bruising her, but she didn’t seem to mind. He could be hurting her, but if he was, she liked it.
And he liked holding onto her like this. Tight. Hard. In. Out. So basic, this function of the body. So perfect the way that men and women fit together - Time Lords and humans were very much alike in this regard.
He fit together with Rose very, very nicely.
She was crying out, into his ear and he could feel it now, as she was climaxing. The pull of her body around his, little ripples.
“Doctor.” Her voice, in his ear, made his stomach tighten and then he was falling over the edge. He tensed, a guttural groan tore from his throat. Then it began. Throbbing release, milked by the after-spasms of Rose’s body. He was moaning and she was whispering into his ear, soft soothing bits of nonsense as he came down from his high. He shuddered, burying himself to the hilt inside of her warmth as he orgasmed. It felt… like something he had been missing for entirely too long.
“Rose,” he whispered one last time, resting his chin against her shoulder, his head against the wall behind her. She trembled in his grasp, the hands that had held onto his hips still holding tight; as if she didn’t want to let go anymore than he did.
”Doctor,” she laughed under her breath. “That was…”
“Worth repeating?” he asked, hopefully. He pulled back to look into her eyes.
”Definitely,” she sighed. A smile hovered on her lips and the Doctor leaned in to kiss at it. He could feel her smiling beneath his lips, see the sparkle in her eyes.
Suddenly the lack of clothing didn’t seem so bad.
He leaned into Rose, continuing to kiss a line down her neck. Already he could feel the arousal rising within him again. Well, it had been a long time between engaging in this activity, he supposed.
They could do this for hours, as far as he was concerned. Just him and Rose, up against the wall. Him exploring her. Her exploring him. Hands. Skin. Teeth. Lips. Mouths. Hardness. Softness. Warmth.
That was when the tardis returned the door to the wardrobe, of course.
Right behind them.
~*~END~*~
Author: Jinni (jinni.fanfic@gmail.com)
Rated: NC17
Disclaimer: All things Doctor Who belong to the BBC, et al.
Spoilers: Up to Army of Ghosts in s2, just to be safe.
Summary: The tardis was going to have a lot to answer for when this was all said and done.
~*~*~
Now, that was odd.
The Doctor frowned, lips pressing together in a thin line.
Really! Definitely odd. He knew for a fact that he had brought a change of clothes into the bathroom with him when he stepped in to shower off the goo that the Spectreians had lobbed at himself and Rose during their madcap run for their lives earlier that day. He could vividly remember hanging the suit and a change of shirt up on the back of the door.
Wasn’t there now, though. Not a scrap of cloth, pinstripe or other. He pushed at the ruined clothes on the floor, careful not to get any of the goo on his newly showered toes. Wouldn’t do, that. Spectreian goo smelled like rotten eggs and he didn’t fancy smelling like refuse again. Not this soon after having scrubbed down, anyhow.
Was it possible that he had left his change of clothes on the bed?
Still holding the towel closed, the Doctor opened the bathroom door. Steam poured out behind him in a misty puff as he blinked to adjust his eyes to the relatively dimmer lighting of his living space.
No. No clothes on the bed.
“Well, now. That’s interesting,’ he muttered, lifting up the bedcovers. No suit there, either. It couldn’t have just gotten up and walked away. The Doctor paused, brow furrowing with concentration. No, no, of course not. Wasn’t that type of clothing. Never had much use for the kind that could move on their own - always flashing the wrong bits at the wrongs times, never taking themselves to the wash. Quite annoying.
He sighed. Well, that suit was definitely just… gone. He’d liked it, too. Same colors as the rest, but this one seemed to fit just a little better. Or maybe not. Yes, probably not. Was the same suit after all. Only thing he ever changed was his shirt.
The closet doors were open when he turned and so the Doctor didn’t labor under the mistaken notion that he could just grab up another suit for very long. He bit the inside of his cheek, both perplexed and vexed at once.
”This your doing, old girl?” he murmured, glancing around the room. No clothing inside. No trousers or shirts, jackets or vests. Nothing. Not a jumper or sock or even underthings for him to slip on. Shoes, yes. But where were shoes going to get him. He’d look right silly in just a pair of shoes. Only way this could have happened was if the tardis had gotten it into her head to take his clothes.
Either that, or there was a clothing thief on board. Unlikely, at best.
Or - and this thought made the Doctor’s lips curl up in a smile - Rose could be playing a joke on him. He rocked back and forth a bit, playing that idea over and over in his head. Rose sneaking into his room, taking all his clothes. Rose sneaking into the bathroom, while he was washing up, and taking that suit, too.
Wait, no. Rose would not have come into the bathroom while he was showering. All the hints he had thrown at her over the course of their travels together, and not once had she taken it upon herself to take him up on the offer of ‘companionship’ in a truly physical sense. Resigned himself a long time ago to the fact that Rose didn’t fancy him - that’s what he’d done.
The smile slipped, until nothing remained.
So that scenario was out. Which left, again, only the tardis being willful and mischievous.
But to what end?
Not that it mattered. Only one thing that could be done now, short of coaxing the tardis to give him back his clothing - he’d have to get to the wardrobe and find something new to wear for the time being. Until either he *did* get his clothes back from the tardis, or they stopped somewhere selling more suits.
The hallway was empty when he peered outside of his door. The Doctor clutched the corners of his towel more tightly, checking to make sure he was suitably covered, and then started out at a dead run. He’d get to the wardrobe and get this sorted before Rose even knew something had happened. Oh, sure, she’d wonder why he wasn’t wearing his suit, but that he’d explain away. Somehow.
Fortunately, he didn’t see her during the short trip to the wardrobe.
Unfortunately, the wardrobe room door was not where it was supposed to be. No door at all, for that matter. The Doctor’s eyes went wide as he stared at the blank wall.
”This is not funny,” he murmured under his breath, casting a disparaging glare at the ceiling, then over his shoulder, then again at the blank wall. “Not funny at -“
The Doctor paused, mouth dropping open in surprise. Rose was there, at the corner of the hallway.
And she was wrapped only in a towel.
The towel at his waist twitched as his body realized that which his mind was still trying to come to terms with.
Rose..
.. in a towel.
“Oh!” her soft exclamation penetrated the Doctor’s lust-fogged thoughts, as she apparently realized that not only was he there, but that he was in a similar state of undress. “You lose your clothes too, then?”
Nodding, the Doctor tried his best to appear nonchalant even though he was feeling far from it. There she was, the girl that had haunted his dreams for months and months on end, and she was dressed only in a pink towel. Well, two pink towels, if he was going to consider the one that she had her hair wrapped in.
Where had she found pink towels on the tardis, anyway?
“Um, yes,” he nodded. “All of them, it would appear.”
Rose was a bit flushed. Couldn’t blame her. Traipsing through the tardis in nothing but a towel, she was going to catch a cold. Then he’d have a sick companion on his hands. He hoped the tardis would be happy, then. No traipsing through time and space - no, it would be lots of staying still until Rose got better. He’d have it no other way.
”Mine too,” Rose nodded. There was a thoughtful look in her eyes. “Wonder what’s going on.”
”Oh, just a malfunction, I’m sure.”
One eyebrow rose as she edged closer, looking at the spot on the wall where the door to the wardrobe should have been. “You mean like the missin’ door?”
”Yes. Exactly like that.” He was thankful that, so far, her concentration had been centered above waist-level, because having Rose standing in front of him in nothing but a towel was doing things to his body that the Doctor didn’t really want Rose to notice. For instance, when his gaze grazed over the drops of water that were lingering on her skin - a remnant of the wetness that still sometimes dripped down from her hair - he couldn’t help but feel an all-too familiar tug in the pit of his stomach, an involuntary flex of muscles that had no business flexing, as he saw the gentle curve of her breasts under the towel. Not very large - especially by various standards throughout the universe - but they always managed to look so perfect on her.
Towels did not hide much, all things considered, the Doctor bemoaned silently as he tried not to call attention to the portion of his anatomy that was very, very interested in Rose’s body.
Very.
“So - what’re we going to do, then?” She crossed her arms over her chest and the towel around her shifted. The Doctor’s eyes went automatically to the opening in the two sides of the terry cloth, marveling at the creamy expanse of thigh that was now showing. Yes, he liked that. He liked that far, far more than he should have. “We can’t very well go about in towels.”
No, they couldn’t. Not that the idea wasn’t tempting on a scale that Rose could not possibly imagine with her poor human brain. To just say - screw it all - never leave the tardis again and just spend all of their time in here, with towels.
Then again, never leaving the tardis did not sound like fun in the least, the more he thought about it.
”Well - first thing is I try to figure out what the problem is,” the Doctor slowly managed, working through a plan as he went. “And if that doesn’t work, we land back in London and you ring your mum to bring some clothes around for you so that you can then go shopping for the both of us.”
Rose Tyler, on a shopping excursion to replenish their flagging wardrobe choices. The idea was enough to frighten the edge off of his lusts for a moment. Nothing more than that - just a moment - and then Rose had moved again and the towel was slipping a bit more and he was just… lost.
He swallowed hard when she cleared her throat, aware that he had been staring and also very much aware that he had, quite possibly, been caught due in part to his latest lapse of attention.
Yes, definitely. She had caught him looking. There was a pleased, coy look on her face. A smirk, if ever he had seen one. She had that damned tongue resting on the inside of her cheek and the slight bulge in her skin made him think of other things that could be right there, in the warmth of her mouth.
Not. The. Thought. He. Needed.
”You okay, there?” Rose asked, voice syrupy sweet. The Doctor held her eyes.
“Fine. Just thinking of ways to get our clothing back from the tardis.”
“Uh huh.”
So, she hadn’t bought that excuse, then. Okay.
Neither had he, though, so fair was fair.
Then her eyes strayed. Down, down, down - and he was sure that he would blush if she didn’t look away soon. There was no way for her not to see what she made him feel - the reaction of his blasted body to hers. Resisting the urge to shut his eyes, the Doctor forced a cocky smile on his lips just as she looked up. It was hard -
… oh, now that was an awful pun, waiting to happen.
“See something you like?”
Trite! Of all the trite, human lines he could come up with right at that moment. That was it, he was picking up Captain Jack when all this was over and he was going to force the former Time Agent to teach him some better lines. Just in case.
Oddly, Rose didn’t seem to notice the triteness. Or, perhaps, she didn’t care? The way her tongue flicked out, over her lip, before disappearing into her mouth again. Was that an invitation?
The Doctor sucked in a ragged breath and Rose’s sly smirk grew.
”Perhaps.”
The distance between the two of them decreased so slowly that the Doctor didn’t even realize it was happening until that very prominent part of his anatomy was pressing against Rose. He wasn’t sure, in the end, if it was he that moved or Rose or a combination of both of them.
Then again, maybe it didn’t matter.
The cold metal wall of the hall hit his back one moment before his lips were on Rose’s. That was his doing, the kissing. He leaned down and put his lips on hers, tasting her with one swipe of his tongue over her lower lip. A hiss of air escaped her lips, but Rose didn’t pull away. The Doctor groaned, encouraged; he pressed harder against Rose’s lips. He forced his tongue between them, delving into her mouth when she parted for him. Rose tasted like sweetness. Oh, yes, there had been candies earlier. Candies from the bazaar - a sweet that tasted almost like chocolate, but better. She tasted like that, still.
It was unconscious, then; the way his hips pressed forward, sliding his hardness against her barely-toweled form. He moaned, she whimpered. Thoughts were flying through his head - the major one being whether or not he should even be doing this. The second was that, yes, she felt something for him like he felt for her. Those hints he’d been dropping, the hand holding and other bits of miscellany, were not wasted on her.
She ground her hips into his, pressing him against the wall and now it was the Doctor’s turn to gasp. Rose’s hands were on him. He felt vaguely taken advantage of as she caressed his stomach with her fingers, grabbing and holding on when she reached his sides. The slow rotation of her hips against his left little to the imagination about what she wanted out of this.
Thankfully, it was the same thing that he wanted.
The towel slipped a bit with the next rotation of her hips and the Doctor’s soft moan turned into a loud groan that filled the hallway. Things were happening so fast. When he’d pictured this - and he had, in his head, repeatedly - it had gone slower, softer. More romantic. Not a frantic dropping of towels in the hallway. Skin meeting skin. Rose’s leg hitched up over his hip as he turned her, putting her against the wall so hard that she ‘oofed’.
She cried out a little when he entered her and it wasn’t because she wasn’t ready for him. The Doctor experienced a moderate amount of purely male pride over her reaction to him, inside of her. The little whimpers that were coming out of her mouth were music to his ears. Her nails clutched at his shoulders, mouth at his ear.
Sweat trickled down his neck, a wet line down his spine, as he moved in and out of her. Not slow. Oh, no - not slow at all. Not when he had waited so long and she was making those noises, practically begging him to go faster, harder. He was moving fast and enjoying every moment of the exquisite friction that her body created around that aching part of his anatomy.
”Rose -“ he growled under his breath. His fingers were on her hips, digging in. He could be bruising her, but she didn’t seem to mind. He could be hurting her, but if he was, she liked it.
And he liked holding onto her like this. Tight. Hard. In. Out. So basic, this function of the body. So perfect the way that men and women fit together - Time Lords and humans were very much alike in this regard.
He fit together with Rose very, very nicely.
She was crying out, into his ear and he could feel it now, as she was climaxing. The pull of her body around his, little ripples.
“Doctor.” Her voice, in his ear, made his stomach tighten and then he was falling over the edge. He tensed, a guttural groan tore from his throat. Then it began. Throbbing release, milked by the after-spasms of Rose’s body. He was moaning and she was whispering into his ear, soft soothing bits of nonsense as he came down from his high. He shuddered, burying himself to the hilt inside of her warmth as he orgasmed. It felt… like something he had been missing for entirely too long.
“Rose,” he whispered one last time, resting his chin against her shoulder, his head against the wall behind her. She trembled in his grasp, the hands that had held onto his hips still holding tight; as if she didn’t want to let go anymore than he did.
”Doctor,” she laughed under her breath. “That was…”
“Worth repeating?” he asked, hopefully. He pulled back to look into her eyes.
”Definitely,” she sighed. A smile hovered on her lips and the Doctor leaned in to kiss at it. He could feel her smiling beneath his lips, see the sparkle in her eyes.
Suddenly the lack of clothing didn’t seem so bad.
He leaned into Rose, continuing to kiss a line down her neck. Already he could feel the arousal rising within him again. Well, it had been a long time between engaging in this activity, he supposed.
They could do this for hours, as far as he was concerned. Just him and Rose, up against the wall. Him exploring her. Her exploring him. Hands. Skin. Teeth. Lips. Mouths. Hardness. Softness. Warmth.
That was when the tardis returned the door to the wardrobe, of course.
Right behind them.
~*~END~*~