Fic: Conductive (1/1)
Title: Conductive
Author: karenor
Character/Paring: Ten/Rose
Rating: Adult
Summary: His touch felt nothing short of heavenly. Like a cold flannel on feverish skin.
Disclaimer: BBC owns, etc. etc.
Author’s Note: Playing with the Time Lord body temp thing just a little. With a wee sprinkling of angst on top. Takes place wherever you like in S2, but is towards the end, in my head. Also, my beta, requialexa, has mad beta-fu. She was invaluable, as always.
Conductivity
noun
1. The ability or power to conduct or transmit heat, electricity, or sound.
Rose tossed around on her borrowed bed, hot and uncomfortable, wishing for about the seventeenth time tonight that she and the Doctor hadn’t been given separate rooms. They could have pretended to be a couple for one night, but he’d been adamant that they weren’t together. At least with him around, the boredom would be more interesting. But they were stuck here until morning at least; the TARDIS was too far away to get back to, he’d said, the jungle not terribly safe at night. And besides, their hosts were generous and kind, grateful for the help they’d been given. And for once, she and the Doctor weren’t in any trouble.
The room was beautiful as well. It jutted out from the main building onto the sand of a beach she knew was quite lovely by day. The room had three walls of an alien glass that let in breezes and kept out insects like a screen, but was solid to the touch. The bed was large and soft, but the pulse of the waves breaking was too foreign to be comforting. And the breeze coming from the now barren beach remained as hot as it’d been during the day. Alien glass, but no alien air conditioning.
She’d stripped down to just a vest and her knickers, but it was still well too warm under the duvet and just tolerable above it, where she lay now, trying almost everything she could think of to fall asleep. She tossed again, turning away from the view of the sea and towards the door, and started in surprise to see the Doctor there, leaning against the doorway, illuminated by the light from the hallway. She thought about diving for the blanket, but decided it was just too warm for that, and hoped the darkness and the small amount of clothing she wore were cover enough for her modesty.
“Doctor?”
“Can’t sleep?” he asked softly. Or it might have been a statement, she wasn’t entirely sure. He closed the door, and the darkness thickened again.
“’S too hot… and the waves sound weird.”
“Different moon. Moons, actually. They’re not up tonight…” he observed, moving to stand at the farthest wall, looking out.
She turned in bed again and took in his long silhouette against the glass. He wore no coat or jacket, and she’d seen a moment ago that his feet were bare as well. His hands were jammed in his trouser pockets, like he was contemplating something. She could just make out the hot breeze stirring his hair a tiny bit as he continued to stare at the ocean.
“Lovely, though, isn’t it?” he said, voice still low and soft.
“Yeah,” she said, resisting the urge to make some joke about all the distinctly not lovely places they’d been to lately. Something was different about him tonight. There was some reverence to his presence she didn’t want to mar, some growing tension in the air that made her nervous, but wasn’t really unpleasant. Her heart beat a little faster beneath her breast and she shifted restlessly against the bed coverings.
“What is it?” he asked, turning towards her.
“What’s what?”
“Nothing. I thought you…” he trailed off.
She looked at him across the dim room for a moment, long enough for three waves to crash against the sand, trying to suss out what he was thinking. But she knew that’d be futile. She gestured toward the bed.
“Come here, Doctor. I don’t want to wake the house with our talking. We might scandalize someone.”
“They’re not as puritanical as all that, Rose. They just assumed we’d prefer separate lodging.”
She budged over as he approached, scooting to one side to make room for him on the bed. She wondered if it was a trick of the light that made it look as though he’d quickly raked his eyes over her form before he settled, sitting cross-legged on the bed, facing her.
“And if they found you here in the morning?” she asked.
“Well…” he drew out the word slightly and let the implications hang between them. “They won’t. But morning is hours away yet.”
“Good thing,” she whispered and let the tension she’d been feeling wash over her and settle in the pit of her stomach.
“Rose?” he questioned, suddenly sounding anxious. And even in the dim light, there was no mistaking the path of his eyes this time. She sucked in a breath and held it as his eyes travelled up to meet hers.
“Are you…?” he began, then stopped and swallowed. “Are you tired?”
She was certain that wasn’t what he’d been about to ask. She released her breath slowly and shook her head. He let out a sigh of his own and fell silent for a whole minute or more, before speaking again.
“Still too warm?” he asked. He reached out and placed his fingertips gently against her bare upper arm. His skin was usually a lower temperature than hers, it still felt a little strange sometimes when he took her hand in his, but now it felt nothing short of heavenly. Like a cold flannel on feverish skin, but soft and dry.
“That’s nice,” she mumbled as he slowly trailed his fingers down her arm. He didn’t look at her, kept his eyes cast downward, following the motion of his hand. She tried to stay still, not to arch into his touch like a cat begging for petting, but found herself losing the battle. She wanted more. As if reading her mind, his fingers were replaced by his whole cool palm on the inside of her wrist and he retraced the path back up her arm.
“Oh,” she let out on a breath. His touch was already making her feel more comfortable, but the tension she’d been feeling spiralled into a very different sort of heat indeed.
His light touch drifted past her shoulder and onto her clavicle, making small circles against her skin, his fingertips brushing the hollow of her throat as his hand moved. Her hips arched up from the bed involuntarily, but she stymied the movement, tried to disguise it as another restless shift.
“All right?” he asked, his voice smooth and low.
“Bri-brilliant,” she stuttered. His hand trailed down to the top swell of her breast, then slowly up to her neck and then he pulled away completely. “Oh, don’t stop,” she whined and then bit her lip, realising how wanton she sounded.
She expected him to laugh at her but he didn’t. “I won’t,” he said, so softly she barely caught it. “But...”
He unfolded his long legs and lay down next to her, on his side, propping himself up on an elbow. And then, blessedly, he reached out across her with his other hand to mirror his previous actions on the other side of her body. “But,” he repeated, “this works both ways, Rose. As I cool you off, you...”
“I... warm you up?” she finished for him, and an image flashed unbidden in her mind, the two of them, naked on this bed, his whole cooler body against her hot skin.
He drew in a quick breath. “Yes,” he said. “Well...” He cleared his throat. “...My hands, anyway.”
He reached her opposite wrist and then traced his fingers down along hers before pulling back again, half leaning over her, hand hovering above her body uncertainly. His eyes met hers again, questioning. She swallowed heavily, then gave a great mental shrug and pushed her vest up to just under her breasts, revealing much more of her skin to him.
He sighed and looked down at the bare skin of her belly and then back up at her. “Rose...” he began.
“It’s okay, Doctor,” she whispered. “Touch me.”
He nodded and bent his head to the task. Instead of at her newly uncovered skin, he began at the outside of her knee, and again she struggled to remain still, to let him continue his slow exploration. His hand sliding up her outer thigh was like sweet cool torture and she knew that with him being this close, he must know what it was doing to her. He switched hands again as he finally placed his palm over her belly. She didn’t even try to stem the movements of her hips this time. She lifted them, squeezing her thighs together, and let out a soft groan. It was like he’d flipped a switch in her-she was past caring about appearing unaffected by his actions.
He started at her navel and moved his hand in imperfect circles that crept further up her body with each pass. She fisted the duvet beneath her and silently dared him to move past the barrier of her clothing. When the fabric did bar his way, he shifted above her, settling his weight onto his knee and elbow and slipped one of his legs between hers. She gasped quietly into the heavy air at the evidence that she wasn’t alone in being affected by his actions.
His other hand joined in, it slightly cooler than the one that’d been tracing patterns on her belly, and both framed her ribs. No doubt he could feel the racing of her heart just beneath. His thumbs swiped hesitantly over her breasts. Then his hands slid up, each palm covering one, her hard nipples sliding briefly between his fingers before his hands continued upwards, palms now dragging past her nipples, causing bolts of sensation to sizzle down through her body. He pushed her vest top past her breasts, revealing them to his gaze.
“Rose,” he said again, his voice strained, but soft. And even with the muffled sound of waves behind it, it seemed loud in the stillness that had descended between them.
He made a quiet noise of frustration, half-sigh, half-growl, withdrew his hands from beneath her top, and rolled away from her, onto his back.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I only meant to make you more comfortable. I didn’t mean to...”
“Doctor,” she said quickly, and then fell silent. She didn’t know what to say to that. She wanted to argue with him, but this was new territory for them, and she didn’t know just where to tread. The usual confidence she felt when she was around him wavered. She was just as afraid to encourage him as she was to let him pull away.
She let her heart rate slow a little and listened to his breathing stir the air, somehow in time with the alien surf outside. In the end she didn’t have to say anything.
With a sudden rustle of the covers, he was shifting, quickly pulling off his own shirts and tossing them aside, then leaning over her again, both legs between hers now, and lifting her vest from where it was bunched beneath her arms. She raised them to help him and he tossed her top, too, to the floor. He muttered something she didn’t catch before he pressed his body along hers, and kissed her.
His chest was as deliciously cool against her skin as she’d hoped for, and she found herself wrapping her arms around him and stroking his back as she returned his kiss without hesitation. He deepened it, driving his tongue into her mouth with a sort of desperation she hadn’t expected, before he eased back, softened the caress of his tongue against hers.
He delicately lifted her arms from his back and encouraged her to lay them back on the bed.
“Just let me,” he said against her lips, before moving to place kisses at the base of her neck.
She nodded, a bit confused, but not inclined to argue. He licked a slow path from her neck to the top of a breast, then leaned back and blew a stream of air over the damp trail. She shivered beneath him and arched as he repeated the process on a nipple. She cried out at the cold blast and he soothed her by engulfing the same nipple with his mouth which was nearly as warm as any human bloke’s now. He suckled there gently until she arched against him and he moved to her other breast, palming the soft flesh and licking at its underside.
She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, but as soon as she completed that thought and lifted a hand to act on it, he looked up at her sharply and she let her hand drop back down. Instead she shifted her hips, trying for more friction further south, but he slid down the bed between her legs and settled his lips above her navel and his hands around her waist. Dropping haphazard kisses and licks along the way, his mouth drifted to her hip, sucking hard at a patch of skin there. She found herself hoping he’d leave a mark.
While his mouth still worked that tender flesh, he laid one finger heavily against the cleft between her legs, over her damp knickers.
“God...” she breathed. “Please.”
He released her skin with a soft pop and stroked his finger further down before slipping under the fabric, sliding back up through her wetness, causing her to gasp with pleasure.
“Please,” she repeated helplessly, “more.”
“Rose, I...” he began, sitting up on his haunches. His arousal was clearly apparent, even in the darkness, and through the fog of her own. She could hear his slightly laboured breathing, could see how he strained against his trousers. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. He shook his head and laid a steadying hand at her thigh.
“There’s something about this place, Rose. I didn’t notice it until the sun set. The beach reminds me of- It... Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
He hooked his fingers in her knickers, but she placed her hand on one of his forearms stilling him.
“Wait,” she said, willing her desire to cool to a simmer, rather than remain at a boil. She took a deep breath. “Tell me?”
“I will. I will, but not just now.” He freed his hand and lifted hers to his mouth, kissing it reassuringly. “There’re other things I’d rather be doing.”
She wanted to know what memories had been stirred up-she was desperate to-but she had a promise from him, and that was more than she usually got, and a hot wind blew through the glass just then, titillating her sensitized skin, and a sly grin bloomed on his face, and he was pulling her knickers off her, and he was settling back between her legs and... her mind’s focus wandered.
His arms wrapped around her thighs and his tongue slid over her clit all she could think about were the points of contact between their bodies. She gripped the bedding underneath her again, twisting the material damp with her sweat, and twisting her body beneath his mouth as he took her higher and higher, closer to the edge.
“Tell me how it feels, Rose,” he said, pausing for only long enough to utter the words before returning to his task.
She tried to focus on what he was doing, to distract herself from the pleasure long enough to be able to answer coherently. He was eager, but measured, like he didn’t want to abandon himself to the act that he clearly enjoyed.
You’re holding back, she wanted to say. And fuck me , and, tell me, tell me what’s going on in that Time Lord head of yours.
What she said was, “so good.” And “more,” again.
One hand slipped from her thigh and he laid it against the bed, not touching her with it at all, while he continued to tease her with his mouth. When he touched her with it again and his fingers trailed over her sex, she realised he’d been cooling that hand from the warmth of her skin. The gradient between his mouth and his hand should have felt unnatural, but the sensation was amazing. And when two slightly cool fingers slid inside her, she jerked against him, her whole body arching and stiffening under the sudden onslaught of pleasure. She registered his hand and mouth still moving, slowing within and against her, drawing out her bliss as the roar of the blood in her ears drowned out both the pounding of the waves outside and her own cries.
When she finally relaxed against the bed, he pulled away, with a lingering kiss to the top of her thigh. He crawled up the bed next to her and kissed her shoulder, then leaned up again on one elbow, watching her.
“And now?” he asked, trailing a hand idly down between her breasts. “How do you feel?”
“Feel ‘mazing.” she drawled drowsily. “Bit chilly, now, though,” she said smiling.
“That’s your sweat evaporating. Also, the night is starting to get cooler. Here.” He pulled the portion of the duvet he’d been lying on out from under him and wrapped it around her, effectively putting a barrier between them.
She furrowed her brow at him. “This makes it difficult for me to return the favour, you know, Doctor.”
He smiled enigmatically at her. “Yeah,” he said, sitting up. “You need your sleep. We’ve got a long hike back to the TARDIS tomorrow and-“
“But...?” She realised he meant to leave without letting her give him any pleasure, without making love to her. “Doctor...” She sat up as well, and snaked her hand out from the covers she was half-wrapped in, touching his stubbled cheek.
“Another time, Rose. Another place. With great pleasure. But not tonight.”
“You’re still...” She looked pointedly down his body.
He gave a short laugh. “I’ll be all right.” He gripped the hand on his cheek and rubbed his thumb over it affectionately. Then he leaned in and kissed her gently. “Get some sleep,” he said as he pulled away, before getting up and collecting his discarded clothing.
Words bubbled up from her chest, threatening to spill from her lips uncontrollably. “Doctor?” she called as he neared the door.
“Yes?”
Oh, it wasn’t as if he didn’t already know. “Nothing,” she said. “Never mind. Goodnight.”
“’Night, Rose,” he said and slipped out the door.
With the realisation that she was indeed bone tired, she sighed and settled back into the warmth of the duvet, staring at the closed door for several long minutes, willing it to explain some of the Doctor’s mysteries. Her thoughts were still churning, but beginning to slow down and tumble over one another. It was an unsettling combination, this, her mind frustrated, but her body so sated.
She tossed once again, before sleep began to pull her down into its depths in earnest. And just as her eyes finally grew too heavy to keep open, she thought she saw the Doctor out at the water’s edge, looking up at the moonless sky.
FIN
Author: karenor
Character/Paring: Ten/Rose
Rating: Adult
Summary: His touch felt nothing short of heavenly. Like a cold flannel on feverish skin.
Disclaimer: BBC owns, etc. etc.
Author’s Note: Playing with the Time Lord body temp thing just a little. With a wee sprinkling of angst on top. Takes place wherever you like in S2, but is towards the end, in my head. Also, my beta, requialexa, has mad beta-fu. She was invaluable, as always.
Conductivity
noun
1. The ability or power to conduct or transmit heat, electricity, or sound.
Rose tossed around on her borrowed bed, hot and uncomfortable, wishing for about the seventeenth time tonight that she and the Doctor hadn’t been given separate rooms. They could have pretended to be a couple for one night, but he’d been adamant that they weren’t together. At least with him around, the boredom would be more interesting. But they were stuck here until morning at least; the TARDIS was too far away to get back to, he’d said, the jungle not terribly safe at night. And besides, their hosts were generous and kind, grateful for the help they’d been given. And for once, she and the Doctor weren’t in any trouble.
The room was beautiful as well. It jutted out from the main building onto the sand of a beach she knew was quite lovely by day. The room had three walls of an alien glass that let in breezes and kept out insects like a screen, but was solid to the touch. The bed was large and soft, but the pulse of the waves breaking was too foreign to be comforting. And the breeze coming from the now barren beach remained as hot as it’d been during the day. Alien glass, but no alien air conditioning.
She’d stripped down to just a vest and her knickers, but it was still well too warm under the duvet and just tolerable above it, where she lay now, trying almost everything she could think of to fall asleep. She tossed again, turning away from the view of the sea and towards the door, and started in surprise to see the Doctor there, leaning against the doorway, illuminated by the light from the hallway. She thought about diving for the blanket, but decided it was just too warm for that, and hoped the darkness and the small amount of clothing she wore were cover enough for her modesty.
“Doctor?”
“Can’t sleep?” he asked softly. Or it might have been a statement, she wasn’t entirely sure. He closed the door, and the darkness thickened again.
“’S too hot… and the waves sound weird.”
“Different moon. Moons, actually. They’re not up tonight…” he observed, moving to stand at the farthest wall, looking out.
She turned in bed again and took in his long silhouette against the glass. He wore no coat or jacket, and she’d seen a moment ago that his feet were bare as well. His hands were jammed in his trouser pockets, like he was contemplating something. She could just make out the hot breeze stirring his hair a tiny bit as he continued to stare at the ocean.
“Lovely, though, isn’t it?” he said, voice still low and soft.
“Yeah,” she said, resisting the urge to make some joke about all the distinctly not lovely places they’d been to lately. Something was different about him tonight. There was some reverence to his presence she didn’t want to mar, some growing tension in the air that made her nervous, but wasn’t really unpleasant. Her heart beat a little faster beneath her breast and she shifted restlessly against the bed coverings.
“What is it?” he asked, turning towards her.
“What’s what?”
“Nothing. I thought you…” he trailed off.
She looked at him across the dim room for a moment, long enough for three waves to crash against the sand, trying to suss out what he was thinking. But she knew that’d be futile. She gestured toward the bed.
“Come here, Doctor. I don’t want to wake the house with our talking. We might scandalize someone.”
“They’re not as puritanical as all that, Rose. They just assumed we’d prefer separate lodging.”
She budged over as he approached, scooting to one side to make room for him on the bed. She wondered if it was a trick of the light that made it look as though he’d quickly raked his eyes over her form before he settled, sitting cross-legged on the bed, facing her.
“And if they found you here in the morning?” she asked.
“Well…” he drew out the word slightly and let the implications hang between them. “They won’t. But morning is hours away yet.”
“Good thing,” she whispered and let the tension she’d been feeling wash over her and settle in the pit of her stomach.
“Rose?” he questioned, suddenly sounding anxious. And even in the dim light, there was no mistaking the path of his eyes this time. She sucked in a breath and held it as his eyes travelled up to meet hers.
“Are you…?” he began, then stopped and swallowed. “Are you tired?”
She was certain that wasn’t what he’d been about to ask. She released her breath slowly and shook her head. He let out a sigh of his own and fell silent for a whole minute or more, before speaking again.
“Still too warm?” he asked. He reached out and placed his fingertips gently against her bare upper arm. His skin was usually a lower temperature than hers, it still felt a little strange sometimes when he took her hand in his, but now it felt nothing short of heavenly. Like a cold flannel on feverish skin, but soft and dry.
“That’s nice,” she mumbled as he slowly trailed his fingers down her arm. He didn’t look at her, kept his eyes cast downward, following the motion of his hand. She tried to stay still, not to arch into his touch like a cat begging for petting, but found herself losing the battle. She wanted more. As if reading her mind, his fingers were replaced by his whole cool palm on the inside of her wrist and he retraced the path back up her arm.
“Oh,” she let out on a breath. His touch was already making her feel more comfortable, but the tension she’d been feeling spiralled into a very different sort of heat indeed.
His light touch drifted past her shoulder and onto her clavicle, making small circles against her skin, his fingertips brushing the hollow of her throat as his hand moved. Her hips arched up from the bed involuntarily, but she stymied the movement, tried to disguise it as another restless shift.
“All right?” he asked, his voice smooth and low.
“Bri-brilliant,” she stuttered. His hand trailed down to the top swell of her breast, then slowly up to her neck and then he pulled away completely. “Oh, don’t stop,” she whined and then bit her lip, realising how wanton she sounded.
She expected him to laugh at her but he didn’t. “I won’t,” he said, so softly she barely caught it. “But...”
He unfolded his long legs and lay down next to her, on his side, propping himself up on an elbow. And then, blessedly, he reached out across her with his other hand to mirror his previous actions on the other side of her body. “But,” he repeated, “this works both ways, Rose. As I cool you off, you...”
“I... warm you up?” she finished for him, and an image flashed unbidden in her mind, the two of them, naked on this bed, his whole cooler body against her hot skin.
He drew in a quick breath. “Yes,” he said. “Well...” He cleared his throat. “...My hands, anyway.”
He reached her opposite wrist and then traced his fingers down along hers before pulling back again, half leaning over her, hand hovering above her body uncertainly. His eyes met hers again, questioning. She swallowed heavily, then gave a great mental shrug and pushed her vest up to just under her breasts, revealing much more of her skin to him.
He sighed and looked down at the bare skin of her belly and then back up at her. “Rose...” he began.
“It’s okay, Doctor,” she whispered. “Touch me.”
He nodded and bent his head to the task. Instead of at her newly uncovered skin, he began at the outside of her knee, and again she struggled to remain still, to let him continue his slow exploration. His hand sliding up her outer thigh was like sweet cool torture and she knew that with him being this close, he must know what it was doing to her. He switched hands again as he finally placed his palm over her belly. She didn’t even try to stem the movements of her hips this time. She lifted them, squeezing her thighs together, and let out a soft groan. It was like he’d flipped a switch in her-she was past caring about appearing unaffected by his actions.
He started at her navel and moved his hand in imperfect circles that crept further up her body with each pass. She fisted the duvet beneath her and silently dared him to move past the barrier of her clothing. When the fabric did bar his way, he shifted above her, settling his weight onto his knee and elbow and slipped one of his legs between hers. She gasped quietly into the heavy air at the evidence that she wasn’t alone in being affected by his actions.
His other hand joined in, it slightly cooler than the one that’d been tracing patterns on her belly, and both framed her ribs. No doubt he could feel the racing of her heart just beneath. His thumbs swiped hesitantly over her breasts. Then his hands slid up, each palm covering one, her hard nipples sliding briefly between his fingers before his hands continued upwards, palms now dragging past her nipples, causing bolts of sensation to sizzle down through her body. He pushed her vest top past her breasts, revealing them to his gaze.
“Rose,” he said again, his voice strained, but soft. And even with the muffled sound of waves behind it, it seemed loud in the stillness that had descended between them.
He made a quiet noise of frustration, half-sigh, half-growl, withdrew his hands from beneath her top, and rolled away from her, onto his back.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I only meant to make you more comfortable. I didn’t mean to...”
“Doctor,” she said quickly, and then fell silent. She didn’t know what to say to that. She wanted to argue with him, but this was new territory for them, and she didn’t know just where to tread. The usual confidence she felt when she was around him wavered. She was just as afraid to encourage him as she was to let him pull away.
She let her heart rate slow a little and listened to his breathing stir the air, somehow in time with the alien surf outside. In the end she didn’t have to say anything.
With a sudden rustle of the covers, he was shifting, quickly pulling off his own shirts and tossing them aside, then leaning over her again, both legs between hers now, and lifting her vest from where it was bunched beneath her arms. She raised them to help him and he tossed her top, too, to the floor. He muttered something she didn’t catch before he pressed his body along hers, and kissed her.
His chest was as deliciously cool against her skin as she’d hoped for, and she found herself wrapping her arms around him and stroking his back as she returned his kiss without hesitation. He deepened it, driving his tongue into her mouth with a sort of desperation she hadn’t expected, before he eased back, softened the caress of his tongue against hers.
He delicately lifted her arms from his back and encouraged her to lay them back on the bed.
“Just let me,” he said against her lips, before moving to place kisses at the base of her neck.
She nodded, a bit confused, but not inclined to argue. He licked a slow path from her neck to the top of a breast, then leaned back and blew a stream of air over the damp trail. She shivered beneath him and arched as he repeated the process on a nipple. She cried out at the cold blast and he soothed her by engulfing the same nipple with his mouth which was nearly as warm as any human bloke’s now. He suckled there gently until she arched against him and he moved to her other breast, palming the soft flesh and licking at its underside.
She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, but as soon as she completed that thought and lifted a hand to act on it, he looked up at her sharply and she let her hand drop back down. Instead she shifted her hips, trying for more friction further south, but he slid down the bed between her legs and settled his lips above her navel and his hands around her waist. Dropping haphazard kisses and licks along the way, his mouth drifted to her hip, sucking hard at a patch of skin there. She found herself hoping he’d leave a mark.
While his mouth still worked that tender flesh, he laid one finger heavily against the cleft between her legs, over her damp knickers.
“God...” she breathed. “Please.”
He released her skin with a soft pop and stroked his finger further down before slipping under the fabric, sliding back up through her wetness, causing her to gasp with pleasure.
“Please,” she repeated helplessly, “more.”
“Rose, I...” he began, sitting up on his haunches. His arousal was clearly apparent, even in the darkness, and through the fog of her own. She could hear his slightly laboured breathing, could see how he strained against his trousers. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. He shook his head and laid a steadying hand at her thigh.
“There’s something about this place, Rose. I didn’t notice it until the sun set. The beach reminds me of- It... Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
He hooked his fingers in her knickers, but she placed her hand on one of his forearms stilling him.
“Wait,” she said, willing her desire to cool to a simmer, rather than remain at a boil. She took a deep breath. “Tell me?”
“I will. I will, but not just now.” He freed his hand and lifted hers to his mouth, kissing it reassuringly. “There’re other things I’d rather be doing.”
She wanted to know what memories had been stirred up-she was desperate to-but she had a promise from him, and that was more than she usually got, and a hot wind blew through the glass just then, titillating her sensitized skin, and a sly grin bloomed on his face, and he was pulling her knickers off her, and he was settling back between her legs and... her mind’s focus wandered.
His arms wrapped around her thighs and his tongue slid over her clit all she could think about were the points of contact between their bodies. She gripped the bedding underneath her again, twisting the material damp with her sweat, and twisting her body beneath his mouth as he took her higher and higher, closer to the edge.
“Tell me how it feels, Rose,” he said, pausing for only long enough to utter the words before returning to his task.
She tried to focus on what he was doing, to distract herself from the pleasure long enough to be able to answer coherently. He was eager, but measured, like he didn’t want to abandon himself to the act that he clearly enjoyed.
You’re holding back, she wanted to say. And fuck me , and, tell me, tell me what’s going on in that Time Lord head of yours.
What she said was, “so good.” And “more,” again.
One hand slipped from her thigh and he laid it against the bed, not touching her with it at all, while he continued to tease her with his mouth. When he touched her with it again and his fingers trailed over her sex, she realised he’d been cooling that hand from the warmth of her skin. The gradient between his mouth and his hand should have felt unnatural, but the sensation was amazing. And when two slightly cool fingers slid inside her, she jerked against him, her whole body arching and stiffening under the sudden onslaught of pleasure. She registered his hand and mouth still moving, slowing within and against her, drawing out her bliss as the roar of the blood in her ears drowned out both the pounding of the waves outside and her own cries.
When she finally relaxed against the bed, he pulled away, with a lingering kiss to the top of her thigh. He crawled up the bed next to her and kissed her shoulder, then leaned up again on one elbow, watching her.
“And now?” he asked, trailing a hand idly down between her breasts. “How do you feel?”
“Feel ‘mazing.” she drawled drowsily. “Bit chilly, now, though,” she said smiling.
“That’s your sweat evaporating. Also, the night is starting to get cooler. Here.” He pulled the portion of the duvet he’d been lying on out from under him and wrapped it around her, effectively putting a barrier between them.
She furrowed her brow at him. “This makes it difficult for me to return the favour, you know, Doctor.”
He smiled enigmatically at her. “Yeah,” he said, sitting up. “You need your sleep. We’ve got a long hike back to the TARDIS tomorrow and-“
“But...?” She realised he meant to leave without letting her give him any pleasure, without making love to her. “Doctor...” She sat up as well, and snaked her hand out from the covers she was half-wrapped in, touching his stubbled cheek.
“Another time, Rose. Another place. With great pleasure. But not tonight.”
“You’re still...” She looked pointedly down his body.
He gave a short laugh. “I’ll be all right.” He gripped the hand on his cheek and rubbed his thumb over it affectionately. Then he leaned in and kissed her gently. “Get some sleep,” he said as he pulled away, before getting up and collecting his discarded clothing.
Words bubbled up from her chest, threatening to spill from her lips uncontrollably. “Doctor?” she called as he neared the door.
“Yes?”
Oh, it wasn’t as if he didn’t already know. “Nothing,” she said. “Never mind. Goodnight.”
“’Night, Rose,” he said and slipped out the door.
With the realisation that she was indeed bone tired, she sighed and settled back into the warmth of the duvet, staring at the closed door for several long minutes, willing it to explain some of the Doctor’s mysteries. Her thoughts were still churning, but beginning to slow down and tumble over one another. It was an unsettling combination, this, her mind frustrated, but her body so sated.
She tossed once again, before sleep began to pull her down into its depths in earnest. And just as her eyes finally grew too heavy to keep open, she thought she saw the Doctor out at the water’s edge, looking up at the moonless sky.
FIN