A New Thing, 1/1
Title: A New Thing
Rating: M
Characters: Peter Carlisle/Rose Tyler
Disclaimer: Characters from Blackpool and Doctor Who are the property of BBC, are are used with the greatest of love and respect; no profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Notes: Posting early for reasons which will shortly become apparent...
I wrote this particular story last August, I think-ages and ages ago, when I’d been bitten by a bug and had to get the story out. And then I sort of forgot about it.
Until this weekend, when I came down sick and realized there was no earthly way I’d be able to write a proper, let alone comprehensible, story in time for this morning’s posting. And so I did a bit of hunting around and dug this up, and earlgreytea68 was kind enough to beta this last-minute for me. And I’d be remiss if I didn’t thank ginamak for her expert input, back when I originally wrote this (about Lucy’s sleeping habits, people! Get your minds out of the gutter!)
Hopefully I’ll be back up to snuff by Thursday; even if I’m not, at the very least I’ll be posting a super-short one-off. I promise.
A New Thing
Lucy was safely asleep in her room, snug in her cot; Peter had checked on her one last time before crossing the hall to come to bed, and had been smiling when he’d closed the door behind him, turning the lock.
At one, Lucy tended to sleep through the night-she’d inherited Peter’s ability to sleep through just about anything and, like her father, seemed to sleep best at the cottage, regardless of the cold. It wasn’t nearly as cold as it used to be, of course, Peter finally allowing heat to be installed in the cottage-but, in early December, it was still terribly chilly.
“Snug as can be,” he said, striding across the room as he untied his robe. He paused at the fireplace, stoking the fire before moving to the bed.
“I should hope so-you tired her out today!”
He grinned at her as he tossed the robe aside. Ten years together, and her breath still caught when she saw him naked; ten years together, and he still got a small smirk as he took in her reaction.
“I didn’t tire her out, Rose,” he drawled, taking his sweet time getting into the bed. His feet sought her legs out; she’d wrapped herself in the bedsheet, knowing from long practice what he’d do, and she laughed at his put-out look.
“Shh! We don’t want to wake her!” he whispered, lying on his side next to her.
“No, we don’t,” Rose replied, reaching forward to stroke her fingers across Peter’s cheek. His pupils dilated.
“We really don’t.” His voice had dropped a note or two, and Rose scooted to be closer to her husband.
His hand found her waist, his skin cool against hers; her breath hitched at the sensation, and she felt heat flash through her.
She didn’t reply, watching him as she freed herself from the sheet, as her hand slid under the flannel to find his bare torso. She kept watching him as she slid her hands down his side, then across his hip; and then as her fingers found his penis, slowly hardening.
His hand drifted, finding her breast, teasing her, his thumb rubbing against the sensitive flesh. She felt a tightness low in her belly, and slowly leaned forward to kiss her husband. “My Peter,” she whispered through the kiss, wiggling so her body was in complete contact with his.
“My Rose,” he murmured, his hand now cradling her jaw.
She could feel him harden, anticipated him rolling so she was on top of him; they’d done this before, several times, and she smiled down at him as she gently stroked his cheek. His hands rested, as they usually did, on her thighs, the thumbs brushing small circles over her skin.
“What ever shall you do with me, Mrs. Carlisle?” His low voice had a note of humour in it, and she smiled in return.
“Actually...” She leaned forward, sliding her hands under the pillow, reaching for the fabric she’d hidden while Peter was tucking Lucy in. “I had a thought, Inspector Carlisle.” She set the small pile of fabric on his chest, and glanced up at him coyly.
His forehead was creased in confusion, and she gently brushed his hair back from his temple. “I...would you let me? Secure...tie...you? To the headboard?” She felt embarrassed suddenly, wondering if it really was such a good idea. She’d thought it would be fun, a neat way to change things for a night; in the light of day, or even with Peter across the hall, she’d been certain he’d want to at least try it. But now, with him below her, his face half in the flickering light from the fireplace, she felt herself flooded with doubt.
“You want to tie me to the headboard?” His voice was full of bemusement.
“I...if you’re alright with that. I thought...maybe...something different.” Her eyes had drifted to where the fabric shone in the half-light.
“Will I get to return the favour?”
Her eyes flew back to his, her body twinging at the note in his voice. She knew that tone-knew that it meant he was in a playful mood, and would most likely find a way to make love to her more than once-or at least, find a way to make her orgasm more than once.
“Yes,” she replied, holding his gaze.
He reached up, pulled her down for a kiss. “May as well enjoy being able to do this one last time, then,” he whispered against her lips, his hands cradling her head as he kissed her.
She was gasping for breath when he finally released her, and she opened her eyes to find a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.
“Not nice, Carlisle,” she drawled, slowly straightening, making sure to wiggle her hips against him.
“Never said I was nice, Tyler,” he replied, loving every minute of the foreplay.
She reached between them, the velvet of her scarf soft against her hands; she caught Peter’s eye and, giving him a half-smile, calmly said, “A friend of mine used to say that this was better done with silk. But I thought you might like the velvet.” She captured his right hand, guided it over his head; she had to lean forward to slowly secure the velvet around his wrist, making sure it wasn’t too tight, or too easy for him to get out of, and he tried to distract her by brushing his tongue over her breast.
“You’ll not distract me, you know,” she said, sitting back with a grin, knowing that he knew exactly what he was doing to her; it would have been impossible for him to miss, given just how wet she was between her legs.
“I’ve no intention of distracting you, Rose; but surely I’m allowed to enjoy myself as well.”
She leaned forward, taking a bit longer than strictly necessary to tie his left hand. Peter took advantage of the time, teasing her with his tongue, nipping at her with his teeth.
She finally finished, and brushed a kiss over his knuckles before leaning back. “There you are. If you must get out of that, use your right hand-it’s the looser tie.” She tapped her finger against his nose. “I’m trusting you not to cheat, Peter.”
He looked wounded. “I’d never cheat.”
“Maybe not at work. In bed? You cheat all the time.” She moved to kneel between Peter’s legs, bracing her weight on her hands so she could begin to drift kisses across his chest.
“You’ve never complained before.”
She drew a lazy circle around a nipple with her tongue, blowing softly on the damp trail before replying, “Doesn’t mean I’ve not noticed, Peter.” She smiled, and began to brush a line of kisses down his sternum, leading to his belly button.
“I can stop if you like.” He wasn’t able to completely hide the breathlessness in his voice.
“Oh, don’t you dare think about it.” She dipped her tongue into his belly button, then circled it with her tongue, before sliding further down his body. “You know I love it, just as much as you do,” she murmured against his skin, taking care now to kiss every inch of the trail of hair leading to his erection.
“I’ll...I’ll remember-that!” She’d taken him in her mouth in one movement, his tip bumping against the back of her throat. She slowly pulled back, the flat of her tongue pressing against the underside of his erection, before releasing him with a soft pop.
“I’m sure you will,” Rose replied.
She shifted her attention to his leg, kissing her way across the thigh, his kneecap, down his shin; her fingers trailed behind, following the trail left by her lips.
“Rose,” Peter whispered as she slowly began to kiss her way up his leg, her hands now resting on his hips, her thumbs gently brushing against the soft skin there.
She paused. “Yes, Peter?” Her voice was low, even to her own ears, and she saw Peter’s erection twitch. Her right hand drifted over, her fingers gently teasing him, and she heard him give a soft groan.
She smiled, continuing to kiss her way upwards. “If I didn’t know better, I might think you liked this,” she said softly, pausing to brush a quick kiss to the base of his erection.
“Yes,” he hissed, his hips arching off the bed.
“Good,” she replied, swirling her tongue across his stomach, dragging her breasts across his groin. He once again arched into her, and she continued to slide upwards. “So eager, Peter,” she murmured, her lips now brushing against the hollow at the base of his neck. She moved to straddle him again; he groaned, tugging on the velvet holding him prisoner.
“I want to be in you, Rose,” he whispered, his voice filled with tension. She could feel him brushing teasingly against her, could feel the effect it was having on her, but she wasn’t quite ready to stop teasing her husband.
“You will be, Peter. I promise.” She dragged her tongue up his neck, brushed soft kisses along his jaw. “You’ll be in me, and I’ll be rocking against you, and we’ll both come together,” she whispered. She slowly pulled his earlobe into her mouth, sucking on it for a moment, before releasing the soft flesh.
“You have no idea how much I want you,” Peter ground out, his hips arching upwards in an effort to slide into her. His eyes were dark, and bright, and held the same intensity they did when he was driving into her.
“Soon, Peter. I promise you, soon.” She placed a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth, then began another journey down his body, peppering his skin with kisses.
She once again reached his erection-swirling her tongue just around the tip of it, her body almost aching for him as she tasted him, then taking him fully into her mouth ever so slowly. “God!” he choked out, his body absolutely taut as she slid him out of her mouth.
“Rose, please.” Peter tugged at the tie binding his wrists to the headboard.
Rose dragged her tongue up the inside of his thigh. He arched, desperate to have her tongue move, to have her mouth a few inches further up his body. “Please what?”
He could feel her breath ghost across his penis, and it twitched in response.
“Make love to me. My Rose,” he whispered.
She shifted, her breasts brushing against his erection as she moved. She held his gaze as she straddled his hips, as she slid onto him. “My Peter,” she whispered.
And then she kissed him.
He bucked into her, desperate for release; she rocked against him, knowing her own orgasm wasn’t far off. He was kissing her almost frantically, and she pulled back, forcing herself to slow down, to enjoy the sensation of Peter in her.
“I love you, Peter. Love what we’ve done-what we’ve created,” she whispered, rocking slowly against him as she sat upright, ensuring he was buried in her. “Love what you feel like, right now, in me.”
His arms strained against the ties again, but he didn’t try to free himself; he instead bent his knees, pushing himself upwards and into her, causing her to gasp. “Like that, Rose?”
“Yes,” she replied, her head tilting back as he pushed up and into her again.
She began to drive him into her, leaning forward now so she could increase the friction; Peter raised his head, his lips finding her breast, sucking gently on her skin as she began to feel her orgasm coil tighter and tighter. She clenched her teeth, her eyes scrunched shut---
--and was taken completely by surprise when Peter wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him as he rolled them, as he shifted to the position that worked best for both of them. He drove into her, his dark eyes boring into her when she opened hers, and she reached above her to wrap her hands around the bars of the iron bed.
“Yes, Peter,” she whispered, feeling her orgasm ever-so-close, knowing she just needed a little bit more from Peter.
“For me, Rose, come for me,” he whispered, his pace increasing.
“For you, Peter. Anything for you,” she whispered, feeling her climax rush through her. Peter followed almost immediately after, thrusting erratically into her, pulsing as he released.
She thought, fleetingly, that perhaps this was the time when they’d conceive another child; they’d both agreed to stop using protection, to see what would happen, if anything. It had taken the better part of the year to convince Peter that she wanted a second child, that if they did have another one, she’d make sure to be someplace where any complications could be managed. He’d finally agreed, and they’d stopped using any form of birth control only a month earlier.
Peter relaxed, utterly spent, and slid an arm under her so he could roll onto his back. He remained buried in her, softening; she rested her cheek on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart.
“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” she murmured against his chest.
“No,” he admitted, rubbing her back.
“You untied yourself rather easily.” She raised her head, resting her chin on his chest.
“You tied terrible knots. If I didn’t know better, I might suspect you wanted me to untie myself.”
She smiled, lying her head back down. “You’re terribly suspicious, Peter.”
“It’s my job.” He chuckled, tightening his hold on her in a gentle hug. “Don’t think that gets you out of being tied up yourself, one night.”
She grinned against his chest. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
~ fin ~
Rating: M
Characters: Peter Carlisle/Rose Tyler
Disclaimer: Characters from Blackpool and Doctor Who are the property of BBC, are are used with the greatest of love and respect; no profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Notes: Posting early for reasons which will shortly become apparent...
I wrote this particular story last August, I think-ages and ages ago, when I’d been bitten by a bug and had to get the story out. And then I sort of forgot about it.
Until this weekend, when I came down sick and realized there was no earthly way I’d be able to write a proper, let alone comprehensible, story in time for this morning’s posting. And so I did a bit of hunting around and dug this up, and earlgreytea68 was kind enough to beta this last-minute for me. And I’d be remiss if I didn’t thank ginamak for her expert input, back when I originally wrote this (about Lucy’s sleeping habits, people! Get your minds out of the gutter!)
Hopefully I’ll be back up to snuff by Thursday; even if I’m not, at the very least I’ll be posting a super-short one-off. I promise.
A New Thing
Lucy was safely asleep in her room, snug in her cot; Peter had checked on her one last time before crossing the hall to come to bed, and had been smiling when he’d closed the door behind him, turning the lock.
At one, Lucy tended to sleep through the night-she’d inherited Peter’s ability to sleep through just about anything and, like her father, seemed to sleep best at the cottage, regardless of the cold. It wasn’t nearly as cold as it used to be, of course, Peter finally allowing heat to be installed in the cottage-but, in early December, it was still terribly chilly.
“Snug as can be,” he said, striding across the room as he untied his robe. He paused at the fireplace, stoking the fire before moving to the bed.
“I should hope so-you tired her out today!”
He grinned at her as he tossed the robe aside. Ten years together, and her breath still caught when she saw him naked; ten years together, and he still got a small smirk as he took in her reaction.
“I didn’t tire her out, Rose,” he drawled, taking his sweet time getting into the bed. His feet sought her legs out; she’d wrapped herself in the bedsheet, knowing from long practice what he’d do, and she laughed at his put-out look.
“Shh! We don’t want to wake her!” he whispered, lying on his side next to her.
“No, we don’t,” Rose replied, reaching forward to stroke her fingers across Peter’s cheek. His pupils dilated.
“We really don’t.” His voice had dropped a note or two, and Rose scooted to be closer to her husband.
His hand found her waist, his skin cool against hers; her breath hitched at the sensation, and she felt heat flash through her.
She didn’t reply, watching him as she freed herself from the sheet, as her hand slid under the flannel to find his bare torso. She kept watching him as she slid her hands down his side, then across his hip; and then as her fingers found his penis, slowly hardening.
His hand drifted, finding her breast, teasing her, his thumb rubbing against the sensitive flesh. She felt a tightness low in her belly, and slowly leaned forward to kiss her husband. “My Peter,” she whispered through the kiss, wiggling so her body was in complete contact with his.
“My Rose,” he murmured, his hand now cradling her jaw.
She could feel him harden, anticipated him rolling so she was on top of him; they’d done this before, several times, and she smiled down at him as she gently stroked his cheek. His hands rested, as they usually did, on her thighs, the thumbs brushing small circles over her skin.
“What ever shall you do with me, Mrs. Carlisle?” His low voice had a note of humour in it, and she smiled in return.
“Actually...” She leaned forward, sliding her hands under the pillow, reaching for the fabric she’d hidden while Peter was tucking Lucy in. “I had a thought, Inspector Carlisle.” She set the small pile of fabric on his chest, and glanced up at him coyly.
His forehead was creased in confusion, and she gently brushed his hair back from his temple. “I...would you let me? Secure...tie...you? To the headboard?” She felt embarrassed suddenly, wondering if it really was such a good idea. She’d thought it would be fun, a neat way to change things for a night; in the light of day, or even with Peter across the hall, she’d been certain he’d want to at least try it. But now, with him below her, his face half in the flickering light from the fireplace, she felt herself flooded with doubt.
“You want to tie me to the headboard?” His voice was full of bemusement.
“I...if you’re alright with that. I thought...maybe...something different.” Her eyes had drifted to where the fabric shone in the half-light.
“Will I get to return the favour?”
Her eyes flew back to his, her body twinging at the note in his voice. She knew that tone-knew that it meant he was in a playful mood, and would most likely find a way to make love to her more than once-or at least, find a way to make her orgasm more than once.
“Yes,” she replied, holding his gaze.
He reached up, pulled her down for a kiss. “May as well enjoy being able to do this one last time, then,” he whispered against her lips, his hands cradling her head as he kissed her.
She was gasping for breath when he finally released her, and she opened her eyes to find a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.
“Not nice, Carlisle,” she drawled, slowly straightening, making sure to wiggle her hips against him.
“Never said I was nice, Tyler,” he replied, loving every minute of the foreplay.
She reached between them, the velvet of her scarf soft against her hands; she caught Peter’s eye and, giving him a half-smile, calmly said, “A friend of mine used to say that this was better done with silk. But I thought you might like the velvet.” She captured his right hand, guided it over his head; she had to lean forward to slowly secure the velvet around his wrist, making sure it wasn’t too tight, or too easy for him to get out of, and he tried to distract her by brushing his tongue over her breast.
“You’ll not distract me, you know,” she said, sitting back with a grin, knowing that he knew exactly what he was doing to her; it would have been impossible for him to miss, given just how wet she was between her legs.
“I’ve no intention of distracting you, Rose; but surely I’m allowed to enjoy myself as well.”
She leaned forward, taking a bit longer than strictly necessary to tie his left hand. Peter took advantage of the time, teasing her with his tongue, nipping at her with his teeth.
She finally finished, and brushed a kiss over his knuckles before leaning back. “There you are. If you must get out of that, use your right hand-it’s the looser tie.” She tapped her finger against his nose. “I’m trusting you not to cheat, Peter.”
He looked wounded. “I’d never cheat.”
“Maybe not at work. In bed? You cheat all the time.” She moved to kneel between Peter’s legs, bracing her weight on her hands so she could begin to drift kisses across his chest.
“You’ve never complained before.”
She drew a lazy circle around a nipple with her tongue, blowing softly on the damp trail before replying, “Doesn’t mean I’ve not noticed, Peter.” She smiled, and began to brush a line of kisses down his sternum, leading to his belly button.
“I can stop if you like.” He wasn’t able to completely hide the breathlessness in his voice.
“Oh, don’t you dare think about it.” She dipped her tongue into his belly button, then circled it with her tongue, before sliding further down his body. “You know I love it, just as much as you do,” she murmured against his skin, taking care now to kiss every inch of the trail of hair leading to his erection.
“I’ll...I’ll remember-that!” She’d taken him in her mouth in one movement, his tip bumping against the back of her throat. She slowly pulled back, the flat of her tongue pressing against the underside of his erection, before releasing him with a soft pop.
“I’m sure you will,” Rose replied.
She shifted her attention to his leg, kissing her way across the thigh, his kneecap, down his shin; her fingers trailed behind, following the trail left by her lips.
“Rose,” Peter whispered as she slowly began to kiss her way up his leg, her hands now resting on his hips, her thumbs gently brushing against the soft skin there.
She paused. “Yes, Peter?” Her voice was low, even to her own ears, and she saw Peter’s erection twitch. Her right hand drifted over, her fingers gently teasing him, and she heard him give a soft groan.
She smiled, continuing to kiss her way upwards. “If I didn’t know better, I might think you liked this,” she said softly, pausing to brush a quick kiss to the base of his erection.
“Yes,” he hissed, his hips arching off the bed.
“Good,” she replied, swirling her tongue across his stomach, dragging her breasts across his groin. He once again arched into her, and she continued to slide upwards. “So eager, Peter,” she murmured, her lips now brushing against the hollow at the base of his neck. She moved to straddle him again; he groaned, tugging on the velvet holding him prisoner.
“I want to be in you, Rose,” he whispered, his voice filled with tension. She could feel him brushing teasingly against her, could feel the effect it was having on her, but she wasn’t quite ready to stop teasing her husband.
“You will be, Peter. I promise.” She dragged her tongue up his neck, brushed soft kisses along his jaw. “You’ll be in me, and I’ll be rocking against you, and we’ll both come together,” she whispered. She slowly pulled his earlobe into her mouth, sucking on it for a moment, before releasing the soft flesh.
“You have no idea how much I want you,” Peter ground out, his hips arching upwards in an effort to slide into her. His eyes were dark, and bright, and held the same intensity they did when he was driving into her.
“Soon, Peter. I promise you, soon.” She placed a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth, then began another journey down his body, peppering his skin with kisses.
She once again reached his erection-swirling her tongue just around the tip of it, her body almost aching for him as she tasted him, then taking him fully into her mouth ever so slowly. “God!” he choked out, his body absolutely taut as she slid him out of her mouth.
“Rose, please.” Peter tugged at the tie binding his wrists to the headboard.
Rose dragged her tongue up the inside of his thigh. He arched, desperate to have her tongue move, to have her mouth a few inches further up his body. “Please what?”
He could feel her breath ghost across his penis, and it twitched in response.
“Make love to me. My Rose,” he whispered.
She shifted, her breasts brushing against his erection as she moved. She held his gaze as she straddled his hips, as she slid onto him. “My Peter,” she whispered.
And then she kissed him.
He bucked into her, desperate for release; she rocked against him, knowing her own orgasm wasn’t far off. He was kissing her almost frantically, and she pulled back, forcing herself to slow down, to enjoy the sensation of Peter in her.
“I love you, Peter. Love what we’ve done-what we’ve created,” she whispered, rocking slowly against him as she sat upright, ensuring he was buried in her. “Love what you feel like, right now, in me.”
His arms strained against the ties again, but he didn’t try to free himself; he instead bent his knees, pushing himself upwards and into her, causing her to gasp. “Like that, Rose?”
“Yes,” she replied, her head tilting back as he pushed up and into her again.
She began to drive him into her, leaning forward now so she could increase the friction; Peter raised his head, his lips finding her breast, sucking gently on her skin as she began to feel her orgasm coil tighter and tighter. She clenched her teeth, her eyes scrunched shut---
--and was taken completely by surprise when Peter wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him as he rolled them, as he shifted to the position that worked best for both of them. He drove into her, his dark eyes boring into her when she opened hers, and she reached above her to wrap her hands around the bars of the iron bed.
“Yes, Peter,” she whispered, feeling her orgasm ever-so-close, knowing she just needed a little bit more from Peter.
“For me, Rose, come for me,” he whispered, his pace increasing.
“For you, Peter. Anything for you,” she whispered, feeling her climax rush through her. Peter followed almost immediately after, thrusting erratically into her, pulsing as he released.
She thought, fleetingly, that perhaps this was the time when they’d conceive another child; they’d both agreed to stop using protection, to see what would happen, if anything. It had taken the better part of the year to convince Peter that she wanted a second child, that if they did have another one, she’d make sure to be someplace where any complications could be managed. He’d finally agreed, and they’d stopped using any form of birth control only a month earlier.
Peter relaxed, utterly spent, and slid an arm under her so he could roll onto his back. He remained buried in her, softening; she rested her cheek on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart.
“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” she murmured against his chest.
“No,” he admitted, rubbing her back.
“You untied yourself rather easily.” She raised her head, resting her chin on his chest.
“You tied terrible knots. If I didn’t know better, I might suspect you wanted me to untie myself.”
She smiled, lying her head back down. “You’re terribly suspicious, Peter.”
“It’s my job.” He chuckled, tightening his hold on her in a gentle hug. “Don’t think that gets you out of being tied up yourself, one night.”
She grinned against his chest. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
~ fin ~