The Constant Gaze
A final chapter for Through the Ice and Across the Abyss. It's my first attempt at writing, well, smut, so please be gentle with me. You've been warned.
Rose shifted back from the Doctor, suddenly so sleepy she could hardly hold her eyes open. She blinked, feeling his palm still resting against the small of her back. "Did you - do something?" she mumbled.
His lips twitched. "Not to make you sleepy, no." He stepped back and put his hands in his pockets, hitching his pants up and back slightly. "Off to bed with you. You need some rest."
She yawned again and nodded. "We'll -- talk -- later." She turned and walked slowly down the hallway, back the way she had come earlier, what seemed like a very long time ago. Her room was dark and quiet, and she shrugged off her clothes and slipped into the long shirt she had worn in her previous futile attempt to sleep. She settled into her bed, pulling the soft coverlet over her and closing her eyes. This time, sleep came gently over her without delay.
In her dream, the Doctor stood silently by her bedside, the fingers of his new hand stroking her hair over and over.
--
When she awoke, she rolled languorously onto her side and stretched. Her limbs felt heavy and for a moment, she was once again moving gracefully through water, this time not cold and sharp, but warm and cottony soft. She folded the coverlet back and sat up, running a hand through her hair to smooth it. She looked over at her bedside table and the same absence of an alarm clock startled her. Why, of all the things that she had seen and been through, was it the ordinary and the banal that seemed most jarring in their absence?
"Good morning, sleepyhead," said the Doctor brightly, from his place in her armchair. She jumped. He sat with a foot crossed over one knee, spectacles on, with an ancient leather book in his lap.
"Is it morning?"
"Somewhere." He marked his place with a tattered bookmark and closed the book with a thump and a reproachful look at her. "You've been asleep for hours and hours," he said in a slightly affronted tone, like she had kept him from opening presents on Christmas morning. "I've been waiting."
She rolled her eyes at him. "Do you ever sleep?"
"Rarely." He placed the book on her bedside table and hopped up, springing onto the balls of his feet. "Alright then?"
She didn't answer, just gave him a puzzled look. At that time, she remembered. She had kissed him. He had kissed her back. She felt the heat in her cheeks and found she wasn't sure if she could look directly at him. He seemed normal -- for the Doctor, anyway -- but was he?
The Doctor cocked his head to one side and took his glasses off, tucking them carefully away in a pocket, and looked at her expectantly. She felt that look settle on her like a thrown net. "Doctor," she said. "Can we talk about -- what happened last night?"
"If you want."
Well, that put everything squarely back on her. "I kissed you." That was good, stating the obvious. "I'm not sorry," she said quickly, forcing the words out before inertia could make her throw herself back into their whirlwind everyday existence.
"I'm not sorry either," he said, surprising her with both his response and his directness. He usually skirted around frank discussions with the grace of a ballroom dancer.
"Oh," she said, and wondered if she looked as flummoxed as she felt and probably sounded.
He did laugh then, and she knew that he saw through her, as he always did, even if he didn't always tell her. "Rose, yes, it's alright, and we're fine, and no, I'm not sorry." He sat down on the corner of the bed. "Do you want to do it again?"
She squeaked, "What?"
"Do you want to kiss me again?" How could he possibly be the one directing this conversation? He waited, and she found her brain whirling around in her head, calculating and trying to make some sense out of what had happened.
"You were with me tonight," she realized, and touched her hair self-consciously.
He nodded. "Is that alright?"
"Yes." Too many questions. "Yes."
The darkening of his eyes told her that he, as usual, understood. She leaned forward and put her weight on her hands, and rolled her legs under her so she poised on all fours. He sat stock still. She crawled forward one step, two, three, and was face to face with him.
He met her halfway this time, kissing her back less gently than last night but still letting her take control. He tasted like fresh tea, clean and sweet and impossibly good. She sat down and scooted toward him, separating them for a moment. He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, letting one finger trail from her earlobe to her neck. Rose shivered and put her arms around his neck, pulling him toward her. Now that their intent was mutually known, the Doctor was an enthusiastic if slightly passive partner. His tongue slid deliberately along her lower lip and he inhaled deeply. She wondered what what information he gleaned from that taste.
"Doctor?" she murmured after some time had passed. These slow, exploring kisses were making her incredibly aroused and she didn't know how far things could or would progress. He made a soft inquisitive sound against her lips that did not help her focus. "Come to bed."
"I'm sitting on the bed." His logic was impeccable, damn him.
"Not good enough," she said, reaching up to loosen his tie. He eased back and watched her. She undid the knot and pulled it slowly out from underneath his collar. He shrugged his jacket off his shoulders and maintained eye contact while she unbuttoned the first button on his shirt. His gaze was unnerving but made her bold. She kept going and untucked his shirt with two tugs, then pushed it off down his arms. As he freed himself from the shirt, her eyes flickered away from his dark stare to scan down his chest. When she looked back up, he was smiling a little smugly, as if he knew she would like what she saw. He would, she thought irritably.
She pushed that thought deliberately out of her head and kissed him fiercely, letting her own tongue explore his lips and then enter his mouth. He sucked lightly on the end of her tongue and touched his own to the tip. She had to touch him. He was frustratingly hands off, which she fully intended to address, but first she ran her hands over his shoulders and down to his nipples. He drew in a long breath against her mouth and she felt a surge of satisfaction. Her mouth followed and she ran her lips lightly over an erect nipple, taking it oh-so-carefully between her teeth and mimicking his earlier motion with some light suction and a flick of her tongue against the tip.
If she hadn't been convinced that she had his undivided attention before, she was then. He purred -- the only way her fuzzy mind could process the astonishing sound -- and reached to pull her shirt over her head. She released him long enough to let him and then focused on the other nipple. He reached underneath her and cupped a breast in his hand, sliding his thumb along her nipple. She sat up abruptly and pressed forward into his hand. His other hand slid down her slide to the elastic of her knickers. "I liked these," he said softly. She remembered her astonishment when he had presented her with a matched set of bra and knickers and grinned wildly.
"You picked them out."
"Yes," he hissed softly, easing his hand over to cup the other breast and caress the nipple in turn.
"Doctor," she said urgently, and then kissed him again. Their mouths worked together erratically, losing their earlier, deliberately paced exploration. She bumped her nose against his and didn't care. She wanted to be naked with him. She pulled away and slid back onto the bed, smiling an encouraging, provocative smile. "Come here."
He smiled in return and came on all fours to her. She made an involuntary sound of protest. "Your shoes." He looked down at his feet and seemed surprised to see his trainers still nearly tied. She gave him a push. "Take them off."
"Is that what you want off?"
"Among other things."
He grinned wildly and, she was secretly pleased to see, fumbled quite a bit with the laces before getting them untied and sliding his trainers and socks off his feet. She wasn't sure that she had ever seen his bare feet before. He reached up and touched the elastic of her knickers again. "Take these off."
"Thought you liked them," she teased, but raised her hips to slide them off.
"I do. Over there," he gestured to the left with his head, poised on all fours and giving her a look that made her feel powerful. She pulled the knickers off and threw them over his shoulder. He leaned forward and kissed her deeply without touching her anywhere else.
She bit his lip in annoyance. "Touch me."
He pressed his whole body against hers in response, burning her everywhere their skin was in contact. She smoothed her palms up his bare back and into his hair. He raked his teeth along her lower lip and nipped her chin. Little kisses danced along her jawline to her ear and he drew her earlobe into his mouth. One hand palmed a breast and a thumb ran lightly over her nipple. He dropped more, wetter kisses along her neck and into the curve of her shoulder as he rubbed his thumb in a slow rhythm. She raised one knee and slid a foot along the back of his leg, wanting him closer. "This what you want," he whispered against her shoulder, kissing lower.
"Yes."
He licked her nipple and she shuddered. He moved over and suckled intently on the other. His hand moved from her breast and trailed down her belly, to one side, along her hip. She shifted to the side, urging him on. Those long fingers glided along her thigh, now upward, stopping as he encountered her soft hair. His teeth pressed carefully down on the nipple in his mouth and the shock made her half sit up against him with an "oh." He let go and found her mouth again, kissing her as his fingers came up, up. She stopped moving, frozen in anticipation and he pressed into her, circling around her clit with one finger.
"Don't stop," she breathed, and felt him smile against her lips before he pushed a tongue into her mouth and his finger against her clit. She kissed back and moved her hips eagerly. He stroked her steadily, stopping only to run his finger down and briefly into her before resuming. Rose was lost. She felt the energy of his body pressed against her, the tension in her hips and belly rising, the fresh, clean taste of him in her mouth. The plateau of her climax loomed ahead of her and she concentrated, trying not to lose her focus and this beautiful spiraling pleasure inside her. Time stopped. She was nothing more than where the Doctor touched her. When she came, it broke over her in waves and she gasped several times. He pressed soft kisses against her lips and, remembering again how to move, she responded.
He eased away from her and laid on his side, facing her. His gaze was as deep and dark as before, infinitely patient and focused on her. He said nothing and she recovered for a moment. "Are we -- stopping then?"
"If you want," he said.
She couldn't read the expression on his face. "What do you want?" That unreadable expression shifted, letting just a crack of his emotions bubble to the surface before it smoothed back over. "Ah," she said. Once again, the move was hers, not his, to make. To take them to the next level or move away.
The decision was never in question, not for Rose. She rolled over him, leaning down to capture his lips again. He responded immediately, with an urgency that she hadn't felt before. His carefully maintained control had slipped for a moment and she would not let him recover it completely. She slid a hand between their bodies and undid the button on his trousers, then lowered the zip by degrees. He stopped kissing her back for a moment and she felt his breath catch in his throat. "Okay?" she asked. He nodded without speaking and she felt his hands come up to her hips. She lifted up to free him. "Take them off," she ordered. He did, and she eased back down against him. His erection prodded at her belly and she shifted back and forth against him. He hissed at her. She reached again and enclosed him in one hand, sliding against his soft skin. He purred again. She was learning to love that sound.
She lifted her hips up and then down again, directing him with her hand, feeling him slide inside her. She sighed with pleasure. Up, and back, and down, she moved. He pushed up against her and clamped his fingers onto her hips, urging her on. She was relentless, surging, onward, falling. He fell with her. It was all there, the warm friction between her legs, the sounds of her beautiful Doctor coming unhinged beneath her, the pressure of his fingers into her skin. He panted in rhythm to Rose's motion and growled. "You like this," she grated.
"You -- know -- I -- do --"
"Ah," she said, and felt the pressure building impossibly inside her again. This didn't happen, not for her, not like this, but it was the Doctor and nothing like she had ever felt before. She tried to focus, keep her timing, wanting not to lose this tide swelling within her. "Please -- yes -- now --" She squeezed her eyes closed.
"Rose," he said, drawing her away. "Look at me, Rose."
She did, and his face astonished her. He was shining, dark, freckled, lovely, staring directly into her eyes as he purred and moved beneath her. His lids dropped but his eyes stayed fixed on hers. She fell, feeling those eyes pin her, coming in waves around him. He surged upwards twice, three times, and, never breaking his steady gaze, cried out as he came.
After, they moved together gently, slowing down together. One hand stroked the small of her back and the other came up behind her head to pull her toward him for a long, lingering kiss. When they stilled, she put her head down on his shoulder, breathing in the smell of his skin. She was content simply to be quiet, still feeling him inside her.
After a time she had to move. She slid down along his side and put one knee over his thigh. He rolled slightly toward her, pulling her leg over his hip and snaking an arm around her.
"I'm terribly glad we did that," he stated, breaking the silence between them.
She looked at him with astonishment, then broke into a laugh. "I thought so."
He smiled beatifically. "You were too."
"You could have said something."
"No," he said, seriously, "you know I couldn't."
"One of the rules?"
"The rule. You set the rules. You make the call."
"You won't -- leave me behind, will you?" she said uncertainly.
"Not until you want me to." His eyes shuttered slightly and she reached out to press her palm against his cheek.
"I won't. Ever." He didn't object but she saw the disbelief in his eyes, and wondered what she could do to make him believe in her loyalty to him, if everything they had been through and done hadn't been enough. She snuggled closer and ran a finger along his lips. He licked it and she laughed.
"Complex chemical composition," he said. "Soap, a little hair gel, several different proteins --"
"You're changing the subject," she said amicably.
"Quite right."
She let him off the hook and snuggled close to him. "You have my permission to do that whenever you want."
"Change the subject?"
"Pay attention."
Rose shifted back from the Doctor, suddenly so sleepy she could hardly hold her eyes open. She blinked, feeling his palm still resting against the small of her back. "Did you - do something?" she mumbled.
His lips twitched. "Not to make you sleepy, no." He stepped back and put his hands in his pockets, hitching his pants up and back slightly. "Off to bed with you. You need some rest."
She yawned again and nodded. "We'll -- talk -- later." She turned and walked slowly down the hallway, back the way she had come earlier, what seemed like a very long time ago. Her room was dark and quiet, and she shrugged off her clothes and slipped into the long shirt she had worn in her previous futile attempt to sleep. She settled into her bed, pulling the soft coverlet over her and closing her eyes. This time, sleep came gently over her without delay.
In her dream, the Doctor stood silently by her bedside, the fingers of his new hand stroking her hair over and over.
--
When she awoke, she rolled languorously onto her side and stretched. Her limbs felt heavy and for a moment, she was once again moving gracefully through water, this time not cold and sharp, but warm and cottony soft. She folded the coverlet back and sat up, running a hand through her hair to smooth it. She looked over at her bedside table and the same absence of an alarm clock startled her. Why, of all the things that she had seen and been through, was it the ordinary and the banal that seemed most jarring in their absence?
"Good morning, sleepyhead," said the Doctor brightly, from his place in her armchair. She jumped. He sat with a foot crossed over one knee, spectacles on, with an ancient leather book in his lap.
"Is it morning?"
"Somewhere." He marked his place with a tattered bookmark and closed the book with a thump and a reproachful look at her. "You've been asleep for hours and hours," he said in a slightly affronted tone, like she had kept him from opening presents on Christmas morning. "I've been waiting."
She rolled her eyes at him. "Do you ever sleep?"
"Rarely." He placed the book on her bedside table and hopped up, springing onto the balls of his feet. "Alright then?"
She didn't answer, just gave him a puzzled look. At that time, she remembered. She had kissed him. He had kissed her back. She felt the heat in her cheeks and found she wasn't sure if she could look directly at him. He seemed normal -- for the Doctor, anyway -- but was he?
The Doctor cocked his head to one side and took his glasses off, tucking them carefully away in a pocket, and looked at her expectantly. She felt that look settle on her like a thrown net. "Doctor," she said. "Can we talk about -- what happened last night?"
"If you want."
Well, that put everything squarely back on her. "I kissed you." That was good, stating the obvious. "I'm not sorry," she said quickly, forcing the words out before inertia could make her throw herself back into their whirlwind everyday existence.
"I'm not sorry either," he said, surprising her with both his response and his directness. He usually skirted around frank discussions with the grace of a ballroom dancer.
"Oh," she said, and wondered if she looked as flummoxed as she felt and probably sounded.
He did laugh then, and she knew that he saw through her, as he always did, even if he didn't always tell her. "Rose, yes, it's alright, and we're fine, and no, I'm not sorry." He sat down on the corner of the bed. "Do you want to do it again?"
She squeaked, "What?"
"Do you want to kiss me again?" How could he possibly be the one directing this conversation? He waited, and she found her brain whirling around in her head, calculating and trying to make some sense out of what had happened.
"You were with me tonight," she realized, and touched her hair self-consciously.
He nodded. "Is that alright?"
"Yes." Too many questions. "Yes."
The darkening of his eyes told her that he, as usual, understood. She leaned forward and put her weight on her hands, and rolled her legs under her so she poised on all fours. He sat stock still. She crawled forward one step, two, three, and was face to face with him.
He met her halfway this time, kissing her back less gently than last night but still letting her take control. He tasted like fresh tea, clean and sweet and impossibly good. She sat down and scooted toward him, separating them for a moment. He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, letting one finger trail from her earlobe to her neck. Rose shivered and put her arms around his neck, pulling him toward her. Now that their intent was mutually known, the Doctor was an enthusiastic if slightly passive partner. His tongue slid deliberately along her lower lip and he inhaled deeply. She wondered what what information he gleaned from that taste.
"Doctor?" she murmured after some time had passed. These slow, exploring kisses were making her incredibly aroused and she didn't know how far things could or would progress. He made a soft inquisitive sound against her lips that did not help her focus. "Come to bed."
"I'm sitting on the bed." His logic was impeccable, damn him.
"Not good enough," she said, reaching up to loosen his tie. He eased back and watched her. She undid the knot and pulled it slowly out from underneath his collar. He shrugged his jacket off his shoulders and maintained eye contact while she unbuttoned the first button on his shirt. His gaze was unnerving but made her bold. She kept going and untucked his shirt with two tugs, then pushed it off down his arms. As he freed himself from the shirt, her eyes flickered away from his dark stare to scan down his chest. When she looked back up, he was smiling a little smugly, as if he knew she would like what she saw. He would, she thought irritably.
She pushed that thought deliberately out of her head and kissed him fiercely, letting her own tongue explore his lips and then enter his mouth. He sucked lightly on the end of her tongue and touched his own to the tip. She had to touch him. He was frustratingly hands off, which she fully intended to address, but first she ran her hands over his shoulders and down to his nipples. He drew in a long breath against her mouth and she felt a surge of satisfaction. Her mouth followed and she ran her lips lightly over an erect nipple, taking it oh-so-carefully between her teeth and mimicking his earlier motion with some light suction and a flick of her tongue against the tip.
If she hadn't been convinced that she had his undivided attention before, she was then. He purred -- the only way her fuzzy mind could process the astonishing sound -- and reached to pull her shirt over her head. She released him long enough to let him and then focused on the other nipple. He reached underneath her and cupped a breast in his hand, sliding his thumb along her nipple. She sat up abruptly and pressed forward into his hand. His other hand slid down her slide to the elastic of her knickers. "I liked these," he said softly. She remembered her astonishment when he had presented her with a matched set of bra and knickers and grinned wildly.
"You picked them out."
"Yes," he hissed softly, easing his hand over to cup the other breast and caress the nipple in turn.
"Doctor," she said urgently, and then kissed him again. Their mouths worked together erratically, losing their earlier, deliberately paced exploration. She bumped her nose against his and didn't care. She wanted to be naked with him. She pulled away and slid back onto the bed, smiling an encouraging, provocative smile. "Come here."
He smiled in return and came on all fours to her. She made an involuntary sound of protest. "Your shoes." He looked down at his feet and seemed surprised to see his trainers still nearly tied. She gave him a push. "Take them off."
"Is that what you want off?"
"Among other things."
He grinned wildly and, she was secretly pleased to see, fumbled quite a bit with the laces before getting them untied and sliding his trainers and socks off his feet. She wasn't sure that she had ever seen his bare feet before. He reached up and touched the elastic of her knickers again. "Take these off."
"Thought you liked them," she teased, but raised her hips to slide them off.
"I do. Over there," he gestured to the left with his head, poised on all fours and giving her a look that made her feel powerful. She pulled the knickers off and threw them over his shoulder. He leaned forward and kissed her deeply without touching her anywhere else.
She bit his lip in annoyance. "Touch me."
He pressed his whole body against hers in response, burning her everywhere their skin was in contact. She smoothed her palms up his bare back and into his hair. He raked his teeth along her lower lip and nipped her chin. Little kisses danced along her jawline to her ear and he drew her earlobe into his mouth. One hand palmed a breast and a thumb ran lightly over her nipple. He dropped more, wetter kisses along her neck and into the curve of her shoulder as he rubbed his thumb in a slow rhythm. She raised one knee and slid a foot along the back of his leg, wanting him closer. "This what you want," he whispered against her shoulder, kissing lower.
"Yes."
He licked her nipple and she shuddered. He moved over and suckled intently on the other. His hand moved from her breast and trailed down her belly, to one side, along her hip. She shifted to the side, urging him on. Those long fingers glided along her thigh, now upward, stopping as he encountered her soft hair. His teeth pressed carefully down on the nipple in his mouth and the shock made her half sit up against him with an "oh." He let go and found her mouth again, kissing her as his fingers came up, up. She stopped moving, frozen in anticipation and he pressed into her, circling around her clit with one finger.
"Don't stop," she breathed, and felt him smile against her lips before he pushed a tongue into her mouth and his finger against her clit. She kissed back and moved her hips eagerly. He stroked her steadily, stopping only to run his finger down and briefly into her before resuming. Rose was lost. She felt the energy of his body pressed against her, the tension in her hips and belly rising, the fresh, clean taste of him in her mouth. The plateau of her climax loomed ahead of her and she concentrated, trying not to lose her focus and this beautiful spiraling pleasure inside her. Time stopped. She was nothing more than where the Doctor touched her. When she came, it broke over her in waves and she gasped several times. He pressed soft kisses against her lips and, remembering again how to move, she responded.
He eased away from her and laid on his side, facing her. His gaze was as deep and dark as before, infinitely patient and focused on her. He said nothing and she recovered for a moment. "Are we -- stopping then?"
"If you want," he said.
She couldn't read the expression on his face. "What do you want?" That unreadable expression shifted, letting just a crack of his emotions bubble to the surface before it smoothed back over. "Ah," she said. Once again, the move was hers, not his, to make. To take them to the next level or move away.
The decision was never in question, not for Rose. She rolled over him, leaning down to capture his lips again. He responded immediately, with an urgency that she hadn't felt before. His carefully maintained control had slipped for a moment and she would not let him recover it completely. She slid a hand between their bodies and undid the button on his trousers, then lowered the zip by degrees. He stopped kissing her back for a moment and she felt his breath catch in his throat. "Okay?" she asked. He nodded without speaking and she felt his hands come up to her hips. She lifted up to free him. "Take them off," she ordered. He did, and she eased back down against him. His erection prodded at her belly and she shifted back and forth against him. He hissed at her. She reached again and enclosed him in one hand, sliding against his soft skin. He purred again. She was learning to love that sound.
She lifted her hips up and then down again, directing him with her hand, feeling him slide inside her. She sighed with pleasure. Up, and back, and down, she moved. He pushed up against her and clamped his fingers onto her hips, urging her on. She was relentless, surging, onward, falling. He fell with her. It was all there, the warm friction between her legs, the sounds of her beautiful Doctor coming unhinged beneath her, the pressure of his fingers into her skin. He panted in rhythm to Rose's motion and growled. "You like this," she grated.
"You -- know -- I -- do --"
"Ah," she said, and felt the pressure building impossibly inside her again. This didn't happen, not for her, not like this, but it was the Doctor and nothing like she had ever felt before. She tried to focus, keep her timing, wanting not to lose this tide swelling within her. "Please -- yes -- now --" She squeezed her eyes closed.
"Rose," he said, drawing her away. "Look at me, Rose."
She did, and his face astonished her. He was shining, dark, freckled, lovely, staring directly into her eyes as he purred and moved beneath her. His lids dropped but his eyes stayed fixed on hers. She fell, feeling those eyes pin her, coming in waves around him. He surged upwards twice, three times, and, never breaking his steady gaze, cried out as he came.
After, they moved together gently, slowing down together. One hand stroked the small of her back and the other came up behind her head to pull her toward him for a long, lingering kiss. When they stilled, she put her head down on his shoulder, breathing in the smell of his skin. She was content simply to be quiet, still feeling him inside her.
After a time she had to move. She slid down along his side and put one knee over his thigh. He rolled slightly toward her, pulling her leg over his hip and snaking an arm around her.
"I'm terribly glad we did that," he stated, breaking the silence between them.
She looked at him with astonishment, then broke into a laugh. "I thought so."
He smiled beatifically. "You were too."
"You could have said something."
"No," he said, seriously, "you know I couldn't."
"One of the rules?"
"The rule. You set the rules. You make the call."
"You won't -- leave me behind, will you?" she said uncertainly.
"Not until you want me to." His eyes shuttered slightly and she reached out to press her palm against his cheek.
"I won't. Ever." He didn't object but she saw the disbelief in his eyes, and wondered what she could do to make him believe in her loyalty to him, if everything they had been through and done hadn't been enough. She snuggled closer and ran a finger along his lips. He licked it and she laughed.
"Complex chemical composition," he said. "Soap, a little hair gel, several different proteins --"
"You're changing the subject," she said amicably.
"Quite right."
She let him off the hook and snuggled close to him. "You have my permission to do that whenever you want."
"Change the subject?"
"Pay attention."