A Pants Thing
Their two weeks together were coming to an end, and Peter fought down the feeling of disappointment that fell over him. He and Rose had spent nearly every minute of the time together, going on walks across the fells, visiting the sea, walking along Hadrian’s Wall; they’d also spent at least a few days lazing about the house, sometimes wearing nothing more than a robe throughout the course of the day. It had been a magical two weeks with Rose, the longest amount of time he’d had off from work in perhaps his entire career, and he was loathe to see it end.
He sighed. He should focus on the present, on being in his back garden, dining al fresco, with the woman he loved; the woman he was fairly sure loved him equally in return, even if neither of them had yet said it. He’d caught her more than a few times looking at him, the tenderness of her gaze suffused with something more; she’d always blushed, glancing hastily away or stammering awkwardly when she realized he was watching. He wanted to tell her exactly how he felt-knew that the time was, in fact rapidly approaching-but something still held him back.
Rose was watching him carefully, taking a slow sip of the white wine they’d had with supper, and he shook himself out of his reverie.
“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked, smiling, as she set the glass down.
“Oh, they’re hardly worth that much.” He smiled in return. “Dinner was lovely.”
She gave him a thoughtful look before deciding how to respond; he wondered if she’d let him get away with changing the subject. “It’s one of the few things I cook well. Pasta, beans on toast...toast itself...that’s the extent of my culinary prowess. You’ll have to do all of the cooking, I’m afraid.” She caught herself, blushing; she’d clearly not meant to say the last, and laughed nervously.
“I’ll be sure to brush up on my skills,” he said lightly, his heart racing. They sat in silence for a few moments, neither quite sure what to say. Finally, he stood, reaching for her plate. “Are you done, then?”
“Just have this wine left.” She moved to stand, and Peter motioned for her to sit.
“Stay out here, enjoy the evening. I’ll get these cleaned up and then we can have some dessert.”
“You’re sure nothing will come out of the back of the garden and attack me?” She grinned, her pink tongue poking teasingly between her teeth.
He bent down, quickly, intent on capturing the tantalising slip of tongue; she leaned up into him for a slow, sensual kiss.
Peter broke the kiss, pulling back with a small smile. Softly, his voice a bit gravelly, he responded, “I’m sure you can take care of yourself.”
Dishes in hand, he made his way back into the house, the garden door opening directly in to the small kitchen. For having made something so simple Rose had absolutely destroyed the kitchen, and he spent a few minutes bringing order to the chaos before turning his attention to the pile of dishes. The small window over the sink looked out into the garden, and he enjoyed watching Rose as she relaxed, her eyes gazing out into the small area as she slowly sipped her wine. One she had finished her drink she stretched out, her legs extended in front of her and ankles crossed, her head tilted back as she closed her eyes. His gaze followed the line of her body, his own body remembering what it was like to kiss, to touch what he saw in front of him. The newness of it still took his breath away, and he finally tore his eyes away and focused on the remaining dishes after he almost dropped a plate in his distraction.
He was scrubbing vigorously at the pot Rose had used for the pasta sauce when he felt hands drifting around his waist. He froze, hands covered in burnt tomato and soap, the only sound that of the water running in the sink. He felt Rose press her body against his, her curves providing a delightful pressure against his back, and he slowly set the pot down. As her hands danced along his belt line he leaned forward, his hands braced against the sink as he shifted his hips back.
Rose slid around to his left side, and he could feel her move to whisper into his ear. “What’s for dessert?”
He spun as he straightened, being careful not to get his hands on Rose as he moved to kiss her again. She ducked back, laughing, teasing, and he sighed in frustration. Turning once more to the sink, he hastily rinsed his hands; as he turned the faucet off, he felt Rose move behind him once more.
“What’s. For. Dessert?” she asked once more, her hands lightly drifting along his waist. He felt his cock begin to stir as her hands came to a rest just a few inches above it, and his mind ran through the several, non-food related responses to her question.
“Whatever you like,” he finally answered, standing straight as her fingers began to work at his belt. Her working of the buckle resulted in a delightful friction, her body sliding against his as she shifted and pulled, finally loosening the piece of leather. She wasted no time in setting to work on his fly, and he stifled a groan at the pressure against his crotch as she tried to undo the button.
The button came free, and Rose lightly glided her fingers down the line of the zip. He felt his breath catch, his hardness growing at her actions, and he felt her smile against his back. “I think I know what I’d like.”
He was torn between standing there, passively, as Rose tormented him; or turning around, taking her in his arms and taking control of the situation. He was spared the necessity of a decision as Rose moved, sliding around to squeeze her way between his hips and the sink; he took a step backwards to allow her into the space before trapping her there with his arms. “Is that so?” His voice was low, nearly a growl, and he leaned forward to brush a light kiss along Rose’s jaw. Her hand stilled, her face turning slightly towards his, and she lightly nipped at his earlobe before setting to work once more on his fly.
He leaned forward onto his arms, as much to keep Rose where she was as to keep himself from collapsing into an embarrassing heap on his kitchen floor. It surely shouldn’t take Rose so long to undo his fly, and he opened his eyes-when had they closed?-to find her watching him intently. She blushed as his eyes met hers, and he felt warmth spread through him at her reaction.
He leaned forwards, stopping just centimetres from her mouth, as he whispered, “And what did you want for dessert, Rose?”
He watched her pupils dilate, felt himself harden in return, and closed the distance between them. As he kissed Rose, he moved his arms around to hold her close to him; she shifted her hands around his back, holding him as though he were the only thing keeping her from drowning. Their mouths worked against each other, her soft lips sucking on his, his teeth lightly nipping at her bottom lip; their tongues languidly dancing with each other before moving forward to explore. Rose had worked out early on that he loved the feel of her tongue along the roof of his mouth, and he stifled a groan as she teased him by repeating the action several times.
Rose finally shifted, her tongue tracing a soft line along his jaw before she captured his earlobe in her mouth; he lost all ability to think as she sucked on the flesh, finally releasing it with a wet pop before lightly nipping at it. She moved her hands around to his front; she had somehow created a gap between their bodies and was able to work her hands down to undo the fly on his trousers. She pulled the fabric wide, giving her access to his pants; the loss of the layer of clothing was a shock to his overheated body, and he straightened in surprise. Rose looked up at him, a wicked glint in her eye, before reaching down and cupping him with her hand.
“God, Rose,” he gasped, fully hard now. A slow smile spread across her lips at his reaction, and she squeezed slightly, her eyes never leaving his face. His hands slid from her back, once more bracing against the kitchen sink so he could stay upright, and as his head fell forward his eyes closed. She leaned forward and whispered, “I want you, Peter.”
He thought he might pass out, the sensation of her fingers still cupping him and the simple statement of her want combining into a practically white-hot desire, and he kissed her ferociously.
He wrapped her in his arms once more, turning them away from the sink; he wasn’t sure where he was going, but he knew the faster they could strip down the happier he’d be. The small kitchen table was out, covered as it was in groceries and mail and other things, but the sofa in the parlour might do the trick. Unless Rose had a hang-up about...
He decided he didn’t care as Rose wriggled against him. He could feel the hard points of her nipples against his chest, even through the fabric of their shirts, and he figured she probably wouldn’t much care where they made love, either. The parlour it was.
“Sofa,” he gasped against her mouth, and he felt her smile before she once more focused on kissing him. Without breaking the kiss, he slowly walked them towards the room, trusting that his knowledge of his house and his memory of having cleaned recently would ensure they made it without incident. Rose shifted her hands away, resting them lightly against his waist as he guided them. After shuffling into the room, feeling the bump of the coffee table against his shin, he broke the kiss; opening his eyes, he looked around in a daze to ensure they were close enough to the sofa to stop worrying about making it that far. Rose blinked her eyes open, looking up at him questioningly, and he smiled down at her. “Right. Dessert in the parlour.”
She smiled slowly at him, and he slowly shifted his hands to the front of her waist. Rose had worn a button-down, and he felt his cock twitch at the thought of slowly undressing her, unwrapping her body like a present. She moved her hands to between their bodies, single-mindedly seeking to continue undressing him.
He bent down for a quick kiss before taking a step back. Confused, Rose looked at him; he smiled slowly and toed his shoes off. “Wouldn’t do to have those on, now, would it?”
Rose quickly kicked off her own shoes before closing the space between them, her hands running up and over his chest before finding their way into his hair. He did groan then, the sensation of Rose’s fingers in his hair sending a flash of heat through him. Gently, she pulled him down towards her for another kiss.
Rose moved her lips along his chin, down his neck; her hands skated across his shoulders and set to working the buttons on his shirt. He moved his hands to mirror her movements, his fingers deftly unbuttoning her blouse. He had never had much patience for unwrapping his presents and he soon had her blouse undone, pushing it off her shoulders as she straightened from unbuttoning his shirt. His mouth went dry as he shrugged his shirt off, Rose watching him as she finished removing her own garment. She reached forward once more, her hands reaching under the bottom of his vest and sliding it over his chest. He reached down, grabbed the hem of the shirt, yanked it over his head; he returned his gaze to Rose, and the two of them stood, staring silently at each other for several moments.
He prayed that he’d never stop feeling the way he did when he was about to make love to Rose Tyler. The adrenaline, the excitement, the incredible sense of want and need and soft, quiet happiness that would flow through him; it was like the best kind of drug, and he briefly wondered if it felt like this for her, too.
“Penny for your thoughts,” she said, softly, an echo of her question earlier. Her hand stilled at his open fly, her eyes wide and questioning as she took a small step towards him.
He rested his arms lightly around her waist, his thumbs lightly brushing the skin at the small of her back as he looked down at her. “I hope this never grows old. “ He leaned down, gently brushed his lips across the corner of her jaw. “That we never tire of this.” He continued to drift his fingers over the skin of her lower back, felt her shudder in response. “That you always make me feel like this.” He moved his lips forward, lightly brushing them over her jaw, pausing only to hover over her lips. “That you feel even a tenth of what I do.”
He kissed her, his lips pressing lightly against hers; she opened her mouth, her tongue brushing across the crease of his lips, seeking entrance. The kiss deepened, and he felt her hands slide between his skin and the waist of his trousers, felt her begin to work them over his hips and down his legs. He shifted his hips back, wiggling, trying to encourage the fabric to drop of its own accord, and finally-still kissing Rose-bent so that he could remove the garment altogether. His hands moved to Rose’s waist; batting her hands away, he finished unzipping the fly on her trousers. She broke the kiss, turning to remove the soft black fabric, and he bent to kiss whatever exposed skin he could find.
He found a particularly ticklish spot along her shoulder and she twisted away, giggling, as he insisted on exploring it further. “Peter!” she gasped, finally removing her trousers and tossing them off to the side. He looked up with a feral glint and took pleasure in seeing her slowly lick her lips as her eyes drifted to his mouth.
“Rose,” he whispered before he moved once more to capture her lips. He could feel the warmth of her body against his, the lace of her bra scraping delightfully across his chest as they moved against each other, the press of her hips against his hardness making him want to bury himself in her without any further distraction. He felt a moment of panic as it occurred to him that he didn’t have any condoms downstairs; Rose nipped at his bottom lip as she felt his attention wander.
He’d have to trust something would work out.
His hands drifted up her back to her bra, and he was momentarily confused when he failed to find any hooks to release the item of clothing. She laughed against him, placing one last, firm kiss against his lips before stepping back. “Front close. Picked it up in town-thought you might like it more.” Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him, her tongue once more poking out of the corner of her mouth. His brain had short circuited somewhere along the way, and he was unable to do more than stand there, unsure of where to start, staring at Rose.
Her smile faded, her gaze growing intent, and she closed the distance between them once more. Placing her hands against his upper arms, giving his biceps a quick squeeze, she started to walk him backwards. She placed a gentle kiss against his neck, another on his shoulder, and he closed his eyes to savour the feeling, trusting her to keep him from falling. He felt her pull him to a stop, and opened his eyes in curiosity at her lack of action afterwards.
She was staring down at his crotch with a look of confusion. Panicked, he looked down; he could see nothing out of the ordinary, and he whispered a soft, “Rose?”
She raised her eyes back to his, a glint in them that hadn’t been there before. He swallowed, felt heat pool in him again, and was just about to reach out and find out how to unclasp her bra when he felt her finger lightly dance down the front of his pants. His hands froze, hovering somewhere near to Rose but not touching her, and his eyes fluttered shut.
She was dancing her fingers along the front of his pants, not quite following his hardness, but definitely in some kind of pattern, and he lost himself in the sensation. His hands fell to his sides.
Rose continued to tease him, her breath growing more rapid as she saw the effect she was having on him, until finally she broke the silence. “Peter?”
He licked his lips, tried to speak; failing that, he slowly opened his eyes and raised them to meet her gaze.
“Why do you have buttons on the front of your pants?”
He blinked, confused; a slow grin overspread her features, a tantalizing blend of knowing and innocence, and he felt a wave of desire wash through him.
“Who cares?” His voice was more forceful than he intended, and he saw Rose’s eyes widen in surprise as he leaned in to capture her lips.
He slid his hands in between the elastic of her knickers and her skin, working the lacy fabric down her thighs; he wasn’t entirely sure she needed to wiggle quite so much to remove them but he wasn’t going to complain about the sensation it caused. They both removed his pants, practically ripping them off in their haste to remove any last obstacles to their being together. He felt almost immediate relief at his erection being set free from the confines of the cotton, and he wanted to weep as he felt the light brush of Rose’s skin against the head of his cock when she shifted to stand in front of him.
Her hand reached down, encircling him, and he couldn’t help but push into it as she lightly squeezed. She sucked on his bottom lip as she pulled back from the kiss, stroked hard upwards as he opened his eyes to look at her; his hips reflexively pushed against her again, and he saw excitement flash across her face in response. Her eyes were bottomless, the pupils completely dilated by her arousal.
With her free hand, she lightly pushed against his chest; he took a step back, felt the edge of the sofa against his knees, and fell into a sitting position as Rose released her hand from around him. The rough fabric against his balls, the cool shock of the air against his erection; the sensations were almost overwhelming, and he closed his eyes to focus on calming himself down.
He felt Rose move to stand between his legs, and opened his eyes in time to watch her lean down towards him. He could see her breasts, still encased in black lace, hanging temptingly just within reach, and he moved his hands to reach, touch, stroke; she gasped as he lightly squeezed, her eyes briefly closing before she collected herself. “Have you a condom? I want you. Now,” she whispered, urgently.
Peter felt the effects of her bold declaration shoot through him; if she’d touched him at that point, the condom wouldn’t have been an issue. Instead, he forced himself to focus, to look her in the eye. He drifted his hands forward, along her sternum, up her neck, into her hair, before he answered, regretfully, “Upstairs.”
“You’re sure?”
“Quite.” She shifted, her knee brushing against the head of his shaft, and he bit his lip to keep from reacting.
“Such a shame...” She leaned back, stood up; her stomach was at eye level, and he could smell her arousal. He’d found many things to be erotic in his life, but he was still surprised by the effect of such a simple thing on him. He grabbed her hips, pulled her towards him; her hands came to rest in his hair, drifting lightly through it as he began to plant kisses on her stomach.
He was dancing his tongue around her belly button, slowly beginning the leisurely dance downwards, when she lightly tugged on his hair to get him to look up at her. “Peter.” Her voice was soft, insistent.
He licked his lips as he finally bent to her wishes, raising his eyes to look up at her.
“I have one. If you’d like.” He was surprised by how vulnerable she sounded; it was an interesting contrast to the worldly knowingness she’d exhibited thus far. He’d been fully set on finding other ways to make Rose moan and writhe under him, but he changed his mind as he looked up at her.
He placed a quick kiss on her stomach before answering, “I’d like.”
She grinned, turned to find her trousers, and pulled a small foil packet out of the pocket like a small child finding an Easter egg. She quickly moved back to him; where before she had stood between his legs, when she returned she moved to capture his legs in between hers. She knelt on the sofa, lowering herself so she just rested on his thighs; his hands reflexively came to rest on her hips as she brought her hands together in between their torsos.
She looked at the packet contemplatively, raised her eyes to his; he arched an eyebrow questioningly. A corner of her mouth quirked upwards, and he felt his hardness twitch. So did Rose; her smirk blossomed into a knowing grin.
Folding the condom into one hand, with her other she slowly traced a line down her chest. Peter was hypnotised, watching the line of her fingernail as she paused, briefly, at the catch of her bra. He followed as the finger then moved to one side, slowly circling around one taut nipple, visible through the lace, then back across her chest to mirror the action with the other nipple. Her hand then slowly snaked down, crossing her belly button, down into the dark wet curls; she threw her head back as she delved into her wetness, moving her hand against her crotch before slowly bringing it back up.
Peter thought he might well orgasm right then. He couldn’t decide which particular aspect of what was going on what the most erotic, and decided he’d worry about sorting that later. Before Rose could move her hand any further, he grabbed her wrist; holding her gaze, he slowly brought her glistening fingers to his lips, drawing them into his mouth. Her eyes were locked onto his as he sucked her fingers clean, and as he slowly drew them back out of his mouth he reached up with his other hand and brought Rose down to kiss him.
He could feel her hands fumbling with the condom wrapper as he kissed her thoroughly, making sure she tasted herself on his tongue. Peter groaned as he felt her hands work to slide the latex over his erection, her touch and the knowledge of what would follow making him practically incoherent with lust. Finally, satisfied it was on correctly, she pulled back from the kiss and offered him one last tease.
Gazing at him, she reached up with both hands and unclasped her bra. He swallowed, used his hands to lift Rose slightly and shift her forward; she moved her hands to reach between them and guide him to her entrance.
As she slowly sank onto him-her warmth encircling him, her wetness letting him enter her with ease-he moved his hands slowly forwards, pushing the lace of her bra out of the way. As her hands drifted to his hair, he leaned forwards; his lips and mouth began to lavish attention on one breast, while his right hand slowly teased and pinched the nipple of the other.
He knew he wasn’t going to last long; knew that as soon as Rose really started moving against him he’d finish. She was fisting his hair in her hands as he teased her and he switched his attentions, his mouth shifting to the opposite breast as his left hand teased the now-wet nipple his mouth had just abandoned. Rose moaned, her hips shifting against him, and he felt the first flash that warned of his growing orgasm. He slid his right hand in between them, his fingers deftly working their way down to the slick folds where Rose joined with him. She rocked into him, shifting marginally to grant him better access; he lifted his hips into her as he moved his left arm around to support her torso.
They rocked against each other, a frantic rhythm building quickly. Rose moved her hands to his shoulders, keeping her balance as she rode him; Peter began feathering light kisses across her chest, periodically capturing one of her breasts his mouth before moving on, his fingers rubbing her clit in time with his thrusts into her. The pace increased, and Peter felt Rose’s fingers begin to dig into his shoulder blades as she focused on reaching her peak. He looked up at her, willing her to look at him; she did, her eyes glazed as she drove herself onto him over and over again. He held her eye, gazing intently at her as he whispered to her, begging her to come for him as his body worked to encourage her further. He could see her focus intensify right before she moaned his name; he felt her convulse around him as she ground her hips into him, her head now tilted back as she concentrated on her pleasure. Slowly, she raised her head, her eyes finding his; she continued to grind her hips against his.
He removed his hand from between them, went to wrap his arm around Rose, and was surprised when she instead grabbed his wrist with one of her hands. Holding his gaze, she brought his hand to her mouth; unblinking, she drew one of his fingers into her mouth, her tongue rolling around it as she licked it clean.
There was no warning; his eyes closed as his world exploded, his body finding release in a flash of blinding sensation. He was aware of Rose leaning in, of the brush of her breasts against his chest as she whispered into his ear, encouraging him; he mindlessly thrust into her as he continued to ride the wave of his orgasm, his body taut.
Finally, he was spent; exhausted, he slowly opened his eyes. He was briefly blinded by the brightness of everything, but was able to eventually focus on Rose, whose warm gaze was centred on him. As he slowly came back to himself, she smiled; he reached up and gently stroked her cheek as he smiled back.
They stared, quietly, at each other, the afterglow of sex making them both mellow and shy. He felt himself begin to soften inside Rose, and gently shifted to slide out of her. Blushing, she moved to stand; his hands pressed lightly on her hips, asking her to stay where she was. She looked at him from under her lashes, confused and embarrassed, and he briefly wondered what her past relationships had been like if she was so easily flustered by shagging on the sofa.
“Rose.”
She glanced up at him.
“Would you like seconds?”
She looked confused by his question.
“For dessert. We might have to move, but I think it could be arranged given a little time. If you like.”
He watched her react to his question, saw her initial desire to be embarrassed trumped by her desire to be brazen. “I’d like. What did you have in mind?”
“You never did tell me what you thought of the bath.”
She grinned. “Can’t have that, now, can we?” She scooted back and stood; her self-consciousness had gone, and he found himself staring up at her in awe. She gazed back at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up so we can think about having thirds.”
He grinned as he stood and took her hand. It was going to be a long--enjoyable--night.
He sighed. He should focus on the present, on being in his back garden, dining al fresco, with the woman he loved; the woman he was fairly sure loved him equally in return, even if neither of them had yet said it. He’d caught her more than a few times looking at him, the tenderness of her gaze suffused with something more; she’d always blushed, glancing hastily away or stammering awkwardly when she realized he was watching. He wanted to tell her exactly how he felt-knew that the time was, in fact rapidly approaching-but something still held him back.
Rose was watching him carefully, taking a slow sip of the white wine they’d had with supper, and he shook himself out of his reverie.
“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked, smiling, as she set the glass down.
“Oh, they’re hardly worth that much.” He smiled in return. “Dinner was lovely.”
She gave him a thoughtful look before deciding how to respond; he wondered if she’d let him get away with changing the subject. “It’s one of the few things I cook well. Pasta, beans on toast...toast itself...that’s the extent of my culinary prowess. You’ll have to do all of the cooking, I’m afraid.” She caught herself, blushing; she’d clearly not meant to say the last, and laughed nervously.
“I’ll be sure to brush up on my skills,” he said lightly, his heart racing. They sat in silence for a few moments, neither quite sure what to say. Finally, he stood, reaching for her plate. “Are you done, then?”
“Just have this wine left.” She moved to stand, and Peter motioned for her to sit.
“Stay out here, enjoy the evening. I’ll get these cleaned up and then we can have some dessert.”
“You’re sure nothing will come out of the back of the garden and attack me?” She grinned, her pink tongue poking teasingly between her teeth.
He bent down, quickly, intent on capturing the tantalising slip of tongue; she leaned up into him for a slow, sensual kiss.
Peter broke the kiss, pulling back with a small smile. Softly, his voice a bit gravelly, he responded, “I’m sure you can take care of yourself.”
Dishes in hand, he made his way back into the house, the garden door opening directly in to the small kitchen. For having made something so simple Rose had absolutely destroyed the kitchen, and he spent a few minutes bringing order to the chaos before turning his attention to the pile of dishes. The small window over the sink looked out into the garden, and he enjoyed watching Rose as she relaxed, her eyes gazing out into the small area as she slowly sipped her wine. One she had finished her drink she stretched out, her legs extended in front of her and ankles crossed, her head tilted back as she closed her eyes. His gaze followed the line of her body, his own body remembering what it was like to kiss, to touch what he saw in front of him. The newness of it still took his breath away, and he finally tore his eyes away and focused on the remaining dishes after he almost dropped a plate in his distraction.
He was scrubbing vigorously at the pot Rose had used for the pasta sauce when he felt hands drifting around his waist. He froze, hands covered in burnt tomato and soap, the only sound that of the water running in the sink. He felt Rose press her body against his, her curves providing a delightful pressure against his back, and he slowly set the pot down. As her hands danced along his belt line he leaned forward, his hands braced against the sink as he shifted his hips back.
Rose slid around to his left side, and he could feel her move to whisper into his ear. “What’s for dessert?”
He spun as he straightened, being careful not to get his hands on Rose as he moved to kiss her again. She ducked back, laughing, teasing, and he sighed in frustration. Turning once more to the sink, he hastily rinsed his hands; as he turned the faucet off, he felt Rose move behind him once more.
“What’s. For. Dessert?” she asked once more, her hands lightly drifting along his waist. He felt his cock begin to stir as her hands came to a rest just a few inches above it, and his mind ran through the several, non-food related responses to her question.
“Whatever you like,” he finally answered, standing straight as her fingers began to work at his belt. Her working of the buckle resulted in a delightful friction, her body sliding against his as she shifted and pulled, finally loosening the piece of leather. She wasted no time in setting to work on his fly, and he stifled a groan at the pressure against his crotch as she tried to undo the button.
The button came free, and Rose lightly glided her fingers down the line of the zip. He felt his breath catch, his hardness growing at her actions, and he felt her smile against his back. “I think I know what I’d like.”
He was torn between standing there, passively, as Rose tormented him; or turning around, taking her in his arms and taking control of the situation. He was spared the necessity of a decision as Rose moved, sliding around to squeeze her way between his hips and the sink; he took a step backwards to allow her into the space before trapping her there with his arms. “Is that so?” His voice was low, nearly a growl, and he leaned forward to brush a light kiss along Rose’s jaw. Her hand stilled, her face turning slightly towards his, and she lightly nipped at his earlobe before setting to work once more on his fly.
He leaned forward onto his arms, as much to keep Rose where she was as to keep himself from collapsing into an embarrassing heap on his kitchen floor. It surely shouldn’t take Rose so long to undo his fly, and he opened his eyes-when had they closed?-to find her watching him intently. She blushed as his eyes met hers, and he felt warmth spread through him at her reaction.
He leaned forwards, stopping just centimetres from her mouth, as he whispered, “And what did you want for dessert, Rose?”
He watched her pupils dilate, felt himself harden in return, and closed the distance between them. As he kissed Rose, he moved his arms around to hold her close to him; she shifted her hands around his back, holding him as though he were the only thing keeping her from drowning. Their mouths worked against each other, her soft lips sucking on his, his teeth lightly nipping at her bottom lip; their tongues languidly dancing with each other before moving forward to explore. Rose had worked out early on that he loved the feel of her tongue along the roof of his mouth, and he stifled a groan as she teased him by repeating the action several times.
Rose finally shifted, her tongue tracing a soft line along his jaw before she captured his earlobe in her mouth; he lost all ability to think as she sucked on the flesh, finally releasing it with a wet pop before lightly nipping at it. She moved her hands around to his front; she had somehow created a gap between their bodies and was able to work her hands down to undo the fly on his trousers. She pulled the fabric wide, giving her access to his pants; the loss of the layer of clothing was a shock to his overheated body, and he straightened in surprise. Rose looked up at him, a wicked glint in her eye, before reaching down and cupping him with her hand.
“God, Rose,” he gasped, fully hard now. A slow smile spread across her lips at his reaction, and she squeezed slightly, her eyes never leaving his face. His hands slid from her back, once more bracing against the kitchen sink so he could stay upright, and as his head fell forward his eyes closed. She leaned forward and whispered, “I want you, Peter.”
He thought he might pass out, the sensation of her fingers still cupping him and the simple statement of her want combining into a practically white-hot desire, and he kissed her ferociously.
He wrapped her in his arms once more, turning them away from the sink; he wasn’t sure where he was going, but he knew the faster they could strip down the happier he’d be. The small kitchen table was out, covered as it was in groceries and mail and other things, but the sofa in the parlour might do the trick. Unless Rose had a hang-up about...
He decided he didn’t care as Rose wriggled against him. He could feel the hard points of her nipples against his chest, even through the fabric of their shirts, and he figured she probably wouldn’t much care where they made love, either. The parlour it was.
“Sofa,” he gasped against her mouth, and he felt her smile before she once more focused on kissing him. Without breaking the kiss, he slowly walked them towards the room, trusting that his knowledge of his house and his memory of having cleaned recently would ensure they made it without incident. Rose shifted her hands away, resting them lightly against his waist as he guided them. After shuffling into the room, feeling the bump of the coffee table against his shin, he broke the kiss; opening his eyes, he looked around in a daze to ensure they were close enough to the sofa to stop worrying about making it that far. Rose blinked her eyes open, looking up at him questioningly, and he smiled down at her. “Right. Dessert in the parlour.”
She smiled slowly at him, and he slowly shifted his hands to the front of her waist. Rose had worn a button-down, and he felt his cock twitch at the thought of slowly undressing her, unwrapping her body like a present. She moved her hands to between their bodies, single-mindedly seeking to continue undressing him.
He bent down for a quick kiss before taking a step back. Confused, Rose looked at him; he smiled slowly and toed his shoes off. “Wouldn’t do to have those on, now, would it?”
Rose quickly kicked off her own shoes before closing the space between them, her hands running up and over his chest before finding their way into his hair. He did groan then, the sensation of Rose’s fingers in his hair sending a flash of heat through him. Gently, she pulled him down towards her for another kiss.
Rose moved her lips along his chin, down his neck; her hands skated across his shoulders and set to working the buttons on his shirt. He moved his hands to mirror her movements, his fingers deftly unbuttoning her blouse. He had never had much patience for unwrapping his presents and he soon had her blouse undone, pushing it off her shoulders as she straightened from unbuttoning his shirt. His mouth went dry as he shrugged his shirt off, Rose watching him as she finished removing her own garment. She reached forward once more, her hands reaching under the bottom of his vest and sliding it over his chest. He reached down, grabbed the hem of the shirt, yanked it over his head; he returned his gaze to Rose, and the two of them stood, staring silently at each other for several moments.
He prayed that he’d never stop feeling the way he did when he was about to make love to Rose Tyler. The adrenaline, the excitement, the incredible sense of want and need and soft, quiet happiness that would flow through him; it was like the best kind of drug, and he briefly wondered if it felt like this for her, too.
“Penny for your thoughts,” she said, softly, an echo of her question earlier. Her hand stilled at his open fly, her eyes wide and questioning as she took a small step towards him.
He rested his arms lightly around her waist, his thumbs lightly brushing the skin at the small of her back as he looked down at her. “I hope this never grows old. “ He leaned down, gently brushed his lips across the corner of her jaw. “That we never tire of this.” He continued to drift his fingers over the skin of her lower back, felt her shudder in response. “That you always make me feel like this.” He moved his lips forward, lightly brushing them over her jaw, pausing only to hover over her lips. “That you feel even a tenth of what I do.”
He kissed her, his lips pressing lightly against hers; she opened her mouth, her tongue brushing across the crease of his lips, seeking entrance. The kiss deepened, and he felt her hands slide between his skin and the waist of his trousers, felt her begin to work them over his hips and down his legs. He shifted his hips back, wiggling, trying to encourage the fabric to drop of its own accord, and finally-still kissing Rose-bent so that he could remove the garment altogether. His hands moved to Rose’s waist; batting her hands away, he finished unzipping the fly on her trousers. She broke the kiss, turning to remove the soft black fabric, and he bent to kiss whatever exposed skin he could find.
He found a particularly ticklish spot along her shoulder and she twisted away, giggling, as he insisted on exploring it further. “Peter!” she gasped, finally removing her trousers and tossing them off to the side. He looked up with a feral glint and took pleasure in seeing her slowly lick her lips as her eyes drifted to his mouth.
“Rose,” he whispered before he moved once more to capture her lips. He could feel the warmth of her body against his, the lace of her bra scraping delightfully across his chest as they moved against each other, the press of her hips against his hardness making him want to bury himself in her without any further distraction. He felt a moment of panic as it occurred to him that he didn’t have any condoms downstairs; Rose nipped at his bottom lip as she felt his attention wander.
He’d have to trust something would work out.
His hands drifted up her back to her bra, and he was momentarily confused when he failed to find any hooks to release the item of clothing. She laughed against him, placing one last, firm kiss against his lips before stepping back. “Front close. Picked it up in town-thought you might like it more.” Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him, her tongue once more poking out of the corner of her mouth. His brain had short circuited somewhere along the way, and he was unable to do more than stand there, unsure of where to start, staring at Rose.
Her smile faded, her gaze growing intent, and she closed the distance between them once more. Placing her hands against his upper arms, giving his biceps a quick squeeze, she started to walk him backwards. She placed a gentle kiss against his neck, another on his shoulder, and he closed his eyes to savour the feeling, trusting her to keep him from falling. He felt her pull him to a stop, and opened his eyes in curiosity at her lack of action afterwards.
She was staring down at his crotch with a look of confusion. Panicked, he looked down; he could see nothing out of the ordinary, and he whispered a soft, “Rose?”
She raised her eyes back to his, a glint in them that hadn’t been there before. He swallowed, felt heat pool in him again, and was just about to reach out and find out how to unclasp her bra when he felt her finger lightly dance down the front of his pants. His hands froze, hovering somewhere near to Rose but not touching her, and his eyes fluttered shut.
She was dancing her fingers along the front of his pants, not quite following his hardness, but definitely in some kind of pattern, and he lost himself in the sensation. His hands fell to his sides.
Rose continued to tease him, her breath growing more rapid as she saw the effect she was having on him, until finally she broke the silence. “Peter?”
He licked his lips, tried to speak; failing that, he slowly opened his eyes and raised them to meet her gaze.
“Why do you have buttons on the front of your pants?”
He blinked, confused; a slow grin overspread her features, a tantalizing blend of knowing and innocence, and he felt a wave of desire wash through him.
“Who cares?” His voice was more forceful than he intended, and he saw Rose’s eyes widen in surprise as he leaned in to capture her lips.
He slid his hands in between the elastic of her knickers and her skin, working the lacy fabric down her thighs; he wasn’t entirely sure she needed to wiggle quite so much to remove them but he wasn’t going to complain about the sensation it caused. They both removed his pants, practically ripping them off in their haste to remove any last obstacles to their being together. He felt almost immediate relief at his erection being set free from the confines of the cotton, and he wanted to weep as he felt the light brush of Rose’s skin against the head of his cock when she shifted to stand in front of him.
Her hand reached down, encircling him, and he couldn’t help but push into it as she lightly squeezed. She sucked on his bottom lip as she pulled back from the kiss, stroked hard upwards as he opened his eyes to look at her; his hips reflexively pushed against her again, and he saw excitement flash across her face in response. Her eyes were bottomless, the pupils completely dilated by her arousal.
With her free hand, she lightly pushed against his chest; he took a step back, felt the edge of the sofa against his knees, and fell into a sitting position as Rose released her hand from around him. The rough fabric against his balls, the cool shock of the air against his erection; the sensations were almost overwhelming, and he closed his eyes to focus on calming himself down.
He felt Rose move to stand between his legs, and opened his eyes in time to watch her lean down towards him. He could see her breasts, still encased in black lace, hanging temptingly just within reach, and he moved his hands to reach, touch, stroke; she gasped as he lightly squeezed, her eyes briefly closing before she collected herself. “Have you a condom? I want you. Now,” she whispered, urgently.
Peter felt the effects of her bold declaration shoot through him; if she’d touched him at that point, the condom wouldn’t have been an issue. Instead, he forced himself to focus, to look her in the eye. He drifted his hands forward, along her sternum, up her neck, into her hair, before he answered, regretfully, “Upstairs.”
“You’re sure?”
“Quite.” She shifted, her knee brushing against the head of his shaft, and he bit his lip to keep from reacting.
“Such a shame...” She leaned back, stood up; her stomach was at eye level, and he could smell her arousal. He’d found many things to be erotic in his life, but he was still surprised by the effect of such a simple thing on him. He grabbed her hips, pulled her towards him; her hands came to rest in his hair, drifting lightly through it as he began to plant kisses on her stomach.
He was dancing his tongue around her belly button, slowly beginning the leisurely dance downwards, when she lightly tugged on his hair to get him to look up at her. “Peter.” Her voice was soft, insistent.
He licked his lips as he finally bent to her wishes, raising his eyes to look up at her.
“I have one. If you’d like.” He was surprised by how vulnerable she sounded; it was an interesting contrast to the worldly knowingness she’d exhibited thus far. He’d been fully set on finding other ways to make Rose moan and writhe under him, but he changed his mind as he looked up at her.
He placed a quick kiss on her stomach before answering, “I’d like.”
She grinned, turned to find her trousers, and pulled a small foil packet out of the pocket like a small child finding an Easter egg. She quickly moved back to him; where before she had stood between his legs, when she returned she moved to capture his legs in between hers. She knelt on the sofa, lowering herself so she just rested on his thighs; his hands reflexively came to rest on her hips as she brought her hands together in between their torsos.
She looked at the packet contemplatively, raised her eyes to his; he arched an eyebrow questioningly. A corner of her mouth quirked upwards, and he felt his hardness twitch. So did Rose; her smirk blossomed into a knowing grin.
Folding the condom into one hand, with her other she slowly traced a line down her chest. Peter was hypnotised, watching the line of her fingernail as she paused, briefly, at the catch of her bra. He followed as the finger then moved to one side, slowly circling around one taut nipple, visible through the lace, then back across her chest to mirror the action with the other nipple. Her hand then slowly snaked down, crossing her belly button, down into the dark wet curls; she threw her head back as she delved into her wetness, moving her hand against her crotch before slowly bringing it back up.
Peter thought he might well orgasm right then. He couldn’t decide which particular aspect of what was going on what the most erotic, and decided he’d worry about sorting that later. Before Rose could move her hand any further, he grabbed her wrist; holding her gaze, he slowly brought her glistening fingers to his lips, drawing them into his mouth. Her eyes were locked onto his as he sucked her fingers clean, and as he slowly drew them back out of his mouth he reached up with his other hand and brought Rose down to kiss him.
He could feel her hands fumbling with the condom wrapper as he kissed her thoroughly, making sure she tasted herself on his tongue. Peter groaned as he felt her hands work to slide the latex over his erection, her touch and the knowledge of what would follow making him practically incoherent with lust. Finally, satisfied it was on correctly, she pulled back from the kiss and offered him one last tease.
Gazing at him, she reached up with both hands and unclasped her bra. He swallowed, used his hands to lift Rose slightly and shift her forward; she moved her hands to reach between them and guide him to her entrance.
As she slowly sank onto him-her warmth encircling him, her wetness letting him enter her with ease-he moved his hands slowly forwards, pushing the lace of her bra out of the way. As her hands drifted to his hair, he leaned forwards; his lips and mouth began to lavish attention on one breast, while his right hand slowly teased and pinched the nipple of the other.
He knew he wasn’t going to last long; knew that as soon as Rose really started moving against him he’d finish. She was fisting his hair in her hands as he teased her and he switched his attentions, his mouth shifting to the opposite breast as his left hand teased the now-wet nipple his mouth had just abandoned. Rose moaned, her hips shifting against him, and he felt the first flash that warned of his growing orgasm. He slid his right hand in between them, his fingers deftly working their way down to the slick folds where Rose joined with him. She rocked into him, shifting marginally to grant him better access; he lifted his hips into her as he moved his left arm around to support her torso.
They rocked against each other, a frantic rhythm building quickly. Rose moved her hands to his shoulders, keeping her balance as she rode him; Peter began feathering light kisses across her chest, periodically capturing one of her breasts his mouth before moving on, his fingers rubbing her clit in time with his thrusts into her. The pace increased, and Peter felt Rose’s fingers begin to dig into his shoulder blades as she focused on reaching her peak. He looked up at her, willing her to look at him; she did, her eyes glazed as she drove herself onto him over and over again. He held her eye, gazing intently at her as he whispered to her, begging her to come for him as his body worked to encourage her further. He could see her focus intensify right before she moaned his name; he felt her convulse around him as she ground her hips into him, her head now tilted back as she concentrated on her pleasure. Slowly, she raised her head, her eyes finding his; she continued to grind her hips against his.
He removed his hand from between them, went to wrap his arm around Rose, and was surprised when she instead grabbed his wrist with one of her hands. Holding his gaze, she brought his hand to her mouth; unblinking, she drew one of his fingers into her mouth, her tongue rolling around it as she licked it clean.
There was no warning; his eyes closed as his world exploded, his body finding release in a flash of blinding sensation. He was aware of Rose leaning in, of the brush of her breasts against his chest as she whispered into his ear, encouraging him; he mindlessly thrust into her as he continued to ride the wave of his orgasm, his body taut.
Finally, he was spent; exhausted, he slowly opened his eyes. He was briefly blinded by the brightness of everything, but was able to eventually focus on Rose, whose warm gaze was centred on him. As he slowly came back to himself, she smiled; he reached up and gently stroked her cheek as he smiled back.
They stared, quietly, at each other, the afterglow of sex making them both mellow and shy. He felt himself begin to soften inside Rose, and gently shifted to slide out of her. Blushing, she moved to stand; his hands pressed lightly on her hips, asking her to stay where she was. She looked at him from under her lashes, confused and embarrassed, and he briefly wondered what her past relationships had been like if she was so easily flustered by shagging on the sofa.
“Rose.”
She glanced up at him.
“Would you like seconds?”
She looked confused by his question.
“For dessert. We might have to move, but I think it could be arranged given a little time. If you like.”
He watched her react to his question, saw her initial desire to be embarrassed trumped by her desire to be brazen. “I’d like. What did you have in mind?”
“You never did tell me what you thought of the bath.”
She grinned. “Can’t have that, now, can we?” She scooted back and stood; her self-consciousness had gone, and he found himself staring up at her in awe. She gazed back at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up so we can think about having thirds.”
He grinned as he stood and took her hand. It was going to be a long--enjoyable--night.