DW Fic - Simmer Dim (11/18)
Title - Simmer Dim (11/18)
Author - joely_jo
Characters - Ten/Rose, Mickey, OCs
Rating - R (for language and adult content)
Summary - With the events of Doomsday just a distant memory, Rose Tyler and Mickey Smith make a discovery that they cannot leave alone. But what they find will take Rose on a journey she never expected. Will she come to terms with what she’s faced with, or will the carefully constructed life she’s built for herself come crashing down?
Author’s Notes - I confess to a little recycling with this fic. The idea for this story actually began with the fic I wrote for the OSK Summer Lovin’ Ficathon, The Storm Inside, which in turn was inspired by watching the episodes Human Nature and Family of Blood. I thought it would be interesting to look at what happened to Rose post-Doomsday, but also to try to portray what I perceive to be the unconditional attraction between the Doctor and Rose. I swore I was going to scale down my DW writing after Myths and Legends, but here we are again… It’s another long one, so I hope you enjoy it!
Many thanks to my betas sensiblecat and most especially aibhinn without whose reassurance I may never have worked up the guts to post this.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
It wasn’t until Rose’s fingers began to go numb that they eventually climbed down from the stem and got back aboard the boat. Smith stepped back inside the cabin and cut the engines, then went to drop the anchor. She watched him work, admiring the methodical way he moved about the deck, the way he knew where absolutely everything was, even in the low light cast from the cabin.
“There we go,” he said as he finished the task and turned back to her, smiling.
She shivered, though it was more to do with the feelings coursing through her than the cold, but he interpreted it as that nonetheless and came towards her, wrapping his arms around her again. “Cold?” he asked. She nodded and pressed her face into his neck, kissing him lightly.
Something stirred in him and he twitched in its wake, his hand creeping up the inside of her jumper again. “Do you want to stay with me tonight?” he asked after a moment, his voice so quiet she had to strain to hear him.
Oh, how can you need to ask that question, thought Rose. “I don’t want to seem… pushy… but I thought…” His voice trailed away.
She looked up at him, taking his face in her hands. “I want to stay with you,” she said.
The expression on his face was suffused with joy and he leaned in to kiss her, sweeping her up in his embrace.
****
He led her by the hand into his small cabin, then descended the rickety steps to the bowels of the boat and his sleeping area, feeling like he was taking her with him to his absolution. Once inside, he switched on the amber lights and turned around, hurriedly checking for anything incriminating, and breathing a sigh of relief when he saw that the place was relatively tidy. Cramped, but still relatively tidy.
He saw her glance around, taking in the narrow bed built into the wall, with storage compartments above and below it, the table and chair and small cooking area and the television perched on a shelf. Even though this boat was his pride and joy, he suddenly felt like it was ridiculously poky and inappropriate for her. “I’m sorry,” he apologised quickly. “It’s not exactly the Hilton.”
She turned back and smiled at him. “No, but it’s homely… and it’s yours.”
Smith felt his heart melt. He really had, he thought; he’d fallen for her hook, line and sinker. And what she believed about him was suddenly completely irrelevant. He went to her and took her face in his hands again, pushing his fingers through her thick hair and pulling her body against his. The spark deep within him that had lit only an hour before sitting on the stem surged, banking up like a forest fire.
“Oh, Rose…” he breathed into her already open mouth. He plunged into her, kissing her hard and desperate. This was no soft tease, no gentle exploration; it was unfettered, brazen want. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and tilted their heads, as if hoping that he could press his very soul into hers.
His hands were on her back, tugging at her jumper, when she stopped him and moved back, leaving him standing dumbly and staring at her. “Wha- what’s the matter?” he managed to stutter. She had better not be backing out now, he thought, because he wasn’t sure he could be a gentleman if she did. The lust thrumming through his veins was too much and his brain was screaming for release in a purely primal manner.
“Just…” She paused and he realised, belatedly, that she was just as compromised as he was. “We need to go slow. This is… this is too important to me.”
He nodded slowly, not quite trusting his own body. She stood in front of him, then, and removed her jumper. His eyes filled with her, her peaches and cream skin, smooth and unblemished, highlighted by the soft light in the cabin. “Take off your jumper,” she told him.
Reaching up, he did as he was told, then took a step towards her, only to be stopped by her hand on his chest. He looked down, mildly startled, then realised that the gesture was tender and not meant as restraint. Her fingers trailed up the front of his shirt and began to work on the buttons, and he watched her, charmed by the tiny frown of concentration that formed between her eyes as she travelled downwards. When she was finished, she ran her hands up his bare chest, then over his shoulders, pushing the shirt to the floor in one smooth movement.
Then, she locked her gaze onto his and reached behind her to undo her bra. Smith couldn’t help the small strangled sound that slipped out of his mouth as she cast it away, revealing perfect breasts that hung down with just the right weight. She smiled at his reaction. “Since I had Jonny they’ve never been the same,” she confessed, but he stepped towards her and took them lightly in his hands.
“You’re beautiful…” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Perfect.”
His fingers traced over the nipples, watching as they hardened to little nubs, then bent and kissed each one, wanting to know how they tasted, how she tasted. He sighed as she took his head in her hands and worked her fingers through his hair as he suckled. Eventually, she pulled him up and kissed him again, this time slower and, if possible, more passionate than it had been before.
He felt himself drowning, sinking into her, and heard himself utter her name like a prayer. Still kissing him, she ran her hands down his spine, then traced them around his belt to the front of his trousers. Her little hands cupped him through the material and he groaned, pushing himself into her. “Ogh, guh…” he managed incoherently and she smiled at him. Her eyes were hooded with desire and he knew it. Right then he knew it.
He loved this woman. Unreservedly. He’d never felt anything like what he felt with her now; it was as if someone had unzipped his skin and allowed her to slide beneath it.
A sigh slipped out of his open mouth. Reaching for the button on her jeans, he worked with fumbling hands to remove the rest of her clothes, pausing only when she was standing naked in front of him. He ran his hands over her curves, remembering what he’d thought when he’d first laid eyes on her in the Thule bar. In response to that thought, he hugged her tight against him, feeling yet another jolt in his groin as her breasts pressed against his bare chest.
Minutes later, he too was nude, and they stood facing each other like two lovers returning from a war, stripped bare for each other’s eyes again. His gaze travelled over her body, taking in the lines of the bones, the tone of the skin, willing himself to remember but also not caring if he didn’t. He came to her belly and saw the thin, white scars of stretch marks and felt his heart almost give up beating. He traced one reverently with his fingertip, wondrous. What had he done to deserve her?
“Hey,” she murmured and drew him back up to her, kissing across his cheek that was slightly roughed by stubble. Her eyes were impossibly dark, darker than the ocean he called his home, and he shook his head in amazement.
She was home.
He took her by the hand and laid her down on the narrow bed, and then eased himself over her, settling into the cradle of her thighs. He pressed against her and felt her shift in anticipation. “I can’t believe I doubted this,” he said, looking deep into her eyes. “I can’t believe…”
“It’s okay,” she soothed. “I know.”
His hands locked themselves onto her face and he kissed her, long and soft. His hips rocked upwards and she spread her legs and then he was inside her. Smith felt his world narrow to this tiny room and this moment, this perfect moment, as she arched up to meet him, her hair falling backwards like a celestial waterfall.
Where had that come from, he thought. What the hell was a celestial waterfall? But, the thought was quickly banished as she began to thrust up to him, and desire overtook him, forcing him to listen to his body rather than his mind. He pushed into her, setting up a slow but steady rhythm that she matched him for. A muffled curse slipped from his mouth and buried itself in her neck as sensation became to overwhelm him.
It had been so very long since he’d been with a woman that no matter how hard he tried to restrain himself, he felt himself picking up pace towards the inevitable resolution. But, even as he did so, he realised that she was not far behind him. Her skin was hot, slippery with their combined sweat and her pupils had dilated to become deep pools of blackness.
“Oh, oh…” Her voice was shaky, high-pitched, like she was hanging by her fingers from a precipice. And then he felt her fall, contracting and convulsing around him in waves of pleasure.
It was enough. With another thrust he came, spilling himself deep inside her, his hands gripping her tight to him and her name on his lips.
When, slowly, the room began to drift back into focus and he felt his heart hammer a little steadier, he eased himself off her and slid her against his body, her head falling loosely and sleepily into the crook of his arm. He treasured the feel of her weight resting against him and reached down to pull the covers over them both.
She was asleep even as he stroked back the hair from her damp forehead and pressed kisses above her eyes and, for a moment, he watched her, marvelling at her. He couldn’t imagine how he had lived without her before, and how he had thought his life was complete without her in it. He sighed, feeling sleep creeping up on him. He would tell her in the morning, he thought, that she owned his soul.
And he slept… and dreamed…
Of a light and a tunnel and a howling like the sound of the universe.
To be continued...
Author - joely_jo
Characters - Ten/Rose, Mickey, OCs
Rating - R (for language and adult content)
Summary - With the events of Doomsday just a distant memory, Rose Tyler and Mickey Smith make a discovery that they cannot leave alone. But what they find will take Rose on a journey she never expected. Will she come to terms with what she’s faced with, or will the carefully constructed life she’s built for herself come crashing down?
Author’s Notes - I confess to a little recycling with this fic. The idea for this story actually began with the fic I wrote for the OSK Summer Lovin’ Ficathon, The Storm Inside, which in turn was inspired by watching the episodes Human Nature and Family of Blood. I thought it would be interesting to look at what happened to Rose post-Doomsday, but also to try to portray what I perceive to be the unconditional attraction between the Doctor and Rose. I swore I was going to scale down my DW writing after Myths and Legends, but here we are again… It’s another long one, so I hope you enjoy it!
Many thanks to my betas sensiblecat and most especially aibhinn without whose reassurance I may never have worked up the guts to post this.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
It wasn’t until Rose’s fingers began to go numb that they eventually climbed down from the stem and got back aboard the boat. Smith stepped back inside the cabin and cut the engines, then went to drop the anchor. She watched him work, admiring the methodical way he moved about the deck, the way he knew where absolutely everything was, even in the low light cast from the cabin.
“There we go,” he said as he finished the task and turned back to her, smiling.
She shivered, though it was more to do with the feelings coursing through her than the cold, but he interpreted it as that nonetheless and came towards her, wrapping his arms around her again. “Cold?” he asked. She nodded and pressed her face into his neck, kissing him lightly.
Something stirred in him and he twitched in its wake, his hand creeping up the inside of her jumper again. “Do you want to stay with me tonight?” he asked after a moment, his voice so quiet she had to strain to hear him.
Oh, how can you need to ask that question, thought Rose. “I don’t want to seem… pushy… but I thought…” His voice trailed away.
She looked up at him, taking his face in her hands. “I want to stay with you,” she said.
The expression on his face was suffused with joy and he leaned in to kiss her, sweeping her up in his embrace.
****
He led her by the hand into his small cabin, then descended the rickety steps to the bowels of the boat and his sleeping area, feeling like he was taking her with him to his absolution. Once inside, he switched on the amber lights and turned around, hurriedly checking for anything incriminating, and breathing a sigh of relief when he saw that the place was relatively tidy. Cramped, but still relatively tidy.
He saw her glance around, taking in the narrow bed built into the wall, with storage compartments above and below it, the table and chair and small cooking area and the television perched on a shelf. Even though this boat was his pride and joy, he suddenly felt like it was ridiculously poky and inappropriate for her. “I’m sorry,” he apologised quickly. “It’s not exactly the Hilton.”
She turned back and smiled at him. “No, but it’s homely… and it’s yours.”
Smith felt his heart melt. He really had, he thought; he’d fallen for her hook, line and sinker. And what she believed about him was suddenly completely irrelevant. He went to her and took her face in his hands again, pushing his fingers through her thick hair and pulling her body against his. The spark deep within him that had lit only an hour before sitting on the stem surged, banking up like a forest fire.
“Oh, Rose…” he breathed into her already open mouth. He plunged into her, kissing her hard and desperate. This was no soft tease, no gentle exploration; it was unfettered, brazen want. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and tilted their heads, as if hoping that he could press his very soul into hers.
His hands were on her back, tugging at her jumper, when she stopped him and moved back, leaving him standing dumbly and staring at her. “Wha- what’s the matter?” he managed to stutter. She had better not be backing out now, he thought, because he wasn’t sure he could be a gentleman if she did. The lust thrumming through his veins was too much and his brain was screaming for release in a purely primal manner.
“Just…” She paused and he realised, belatedly, that she was just as compromised as he was. “We need to go slow. This is… this is too important to me.”
He nodded slowly, not quite trusting his own body. She stood in front of him, then, and removed her jumper. His eyes filled with her, her peaches and cream skin, smooth and unblemished, highlighted by the soft light in the cabin. “Take off your jumper,” she told him.
Reaching up, he did as he was told, then took a step towards her, only to be stopped by her hand on his chest. He looked down, mildly startled, then realised that the gesture was tender and not meant as restraint. Her fingers trailed up the front of his shirt and began to work on the buttons, and he watched her, charmed by the tiny frown of concentration that formed between her eyes as she travelled downwards. When she was finished, she ran her hands up his bare chest, then over his shoulders, pushing the shirt to the floor in one smooth movement.
Then, she locked her gaze onto his and reached behind her to undo her bra. Smith couldn’t help the small strangled sound that slipped out of his mouth as she cast it away, revealing perfect breasts that hung down with just the right weight. She smiled at his reaction. “Since I had Jonny they’ve never been the same,” she confessed, but he stepped towards her and took them lightly in his hands.
“You’re beautiful…” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Perfect.”
His fingers traced over the nipples, watching as they hardened to little nubs, then bent and kissed each one, wanting to know how they tasted, how she tasted. He sighed as she took his head in her hands and worked her fingers through his hair as he suckled. Eventually, she pulled him up and kissed him again, this time slower and, if possible, more passionate than it had been before.
He felt himself drowning, sinking into her, and heard himself utter her name like a prayer. Still kissing him, she ran her hands down his spine, then traced them around his belt to the front of his trousers. Her little hands cupped him through the material and he groaned, pushing himself into her. “Ogh, guh…” he managed incoherently and she smiled at him. Her eyes were hooded with desire and he knew it. Right then he knew it.
He loved this woman. Unreservedly. He’d never felt anything like what he felt with her now; it was as if someone had unzipped his skin and allowed her to slide beneath it.
A sigh slipped out of his open mouth. Reaching for the button on her jeans, he worked with fumbling hands to remove the rest of her clothes, pausing only when she was standing naked in front of him. He ran his hands over her curves, remembering what he’d thought when he’d first laid eyes on her in the Thule bar. In response to that thought, he hugged her tight against him, feeling yet another jolt in his groin as her breasts pressed against his bare chest.
Minutes later, he too was nude, and they stood facing each other like two lovers returning from a war, stripped bare for each other’s eyes again. His gaze travelled over her body, taking in the lines of the bones, the tone of the skin, willing himself to remember but also not caring if he didn’t. He came to her belly and saw the thin, white scars of stretch marks and felt his heart almost give up beating. He traced one reverently with his fingertip, wondrous. What had he done to deserve her?
“Hey,” she murmured and drew him back up to her, kissing across his cheek that was slightly roughed by stubble. Her eyes were impossibly dark, darker than the ocean he called his home, and he shook his head in amazement.
She was home.
He took her by the hand and laid her down on the narrow bed, and then eased himself over her, settling into the cradle of her thighs. He pressed against her and felt her shift in anticipation. “I can’t believe I doubted this,” he said, looking deep into her eyes. “I can’t believe…”
“It’s okay,” she soothed. “I know.”
His hands locked themselves onto her face and he kissed her, long and soft. His hips rocked upwards and she spread her legs and then he was inside her. Smith felt his world narrow to this tiny room and this moment, this perfect moment, as she arched up to meet him, her hair falling backwards like a celestial waterfall.
Where had that come from, he thought. What the hell was a celestial waterfall? But, the thought was quickly banished as she began to thrust up to him, and desire overtook him, forcing him to listen to his body rather than his mind. He pushed into her, setting up a slow but steady rhythm that she matched him for. A muffled curse slipped from his mouth and buried itself in her neck as sensation became to overwhelm him.
It had been so very long since he’d been with a woman that no matter how hard he tried to restrain himself, he felt himself picking up pace towards the inevitable resolution. But, even as he did so, he realised that she was not far behind him. Her skin was hot, slippery with their combined sweat and her pupils had dilated to become deep pools of blackness.
“Oh, oh…” Her voice was shaky, high-pitched, like she was hanging by her fingers from a precipice. And then he felt her fall, contracting and convulsing around him in waves of pleasure.
It was enough. With another thrust he came, spilling himself deep inside her, his hands gripping her tight to him and her name on his lips.
When, slowly, the room began to drift back into focus and he felt his heart hammer a little steadier, he eased himself off her and slid her against his body, her head falling loosely and sleepily into the crook of his arm. He treasured the feel of her weight resting against him and reached down to pull the covers over them both.
She was asleep even as he stroked back the hair from her damp forehead and pressed kisses above her eyes and, for a moment, he watched her, marvelling at her. He couldn’t imagine how he had lived without her before, and how he had thought his life was complete without her in it. He sighed, feeling sleep creeping up on him. He would tell her in the morning, he thought, that she owned his soul.
And he slept… and dreamed…
Of a light and a tunnel and a howling like the sound of the universe.
To be continued...