Fic: The Best Part of Waking Up
Title: The Best Part of Waking Up
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Nine/Rose
Beta Reader: gbtso
Rating: Mature like whoa
Summary: Shower sex.
The Best Part of Waking Up
Special thanks to gbtso, without whom this would not have been good. I hope it lives up to your expectations, dear.
This fic was written for amberfocus, and is dedicated most especially to editrx. Here's hoping you get to feeling better soon!
There's something about the Doctor when he showers. Rose putters around the bathroom, brushing teeth, combing hair, pink and flush from her own bathing ritual and she'll catch him out of the corner of her eye. Head thrown back, water cascading over his body - thick and strong and oh, so perfect because it's him. He turns, and Rose watches the play of his muscles as his abdomen twists while he scrubs his stomach. The soap falls in lines and rivulets down his body. Rose is stunned at how quickly she's ready, heat rushing between her legs so fast it makes her head spin. She wants the Doctor with an animal, primal need.
Her robe drops to the floor almost without her conscious realization... the terry makes a soft sound as it meets with the tile, but the Doctor doesn't notice, as far as Rose can tell. He's serene in the mornings, before the manic energy of the day sets in and his eyes light with the fire of the universe. In these hours before dawn, he's half-hard and deliberate with her. She thinks of his hands over her body in the early hours of the morning - the way he teases her to wakefulness and then drives her to ecstasy. The short distance she walks between the counter and the shower tingle as her legs slide together and she can feel how very, very ready she is.
The door clicks as she opens it. The Doctor's eyes snap open, taking in her body with greedy eyes. She stands close to the door, her arms behind her back, and he focuses on her breasts, raised high and displayed prominently for him. The water, ricocheting off the Doctor's body, lightly sprays Rose. He reaches for her, but Rose shakes her head.
“I'm thirsty,” she says, dropping to her knees carefully.
The Doctor makes a sound, her favorite kind. It's a strangled laugh and a moan, a tensing of his whole self as he waits for what he knows is coming, and she can't deny him what he wants... what she wants. The stream of the shower above running over her is like phantom fingers, seeking places she wishes he would touch, caressing her and massaging her hyper-aware senses. She braces herself on the Doctor's thighs - hands splayed wide and her thumbs on the inside of his legs. The water sliding off his growing erection falls between Rose's breasts and she looks up at him. His eyes are closed, mouth half-open in anticipation.
Normally she would tease - little nips and licks and a stroke with her hand, but she is dying for this. Wants to taste him so badly she can't hardly stand it. She closes around him with her mouth, and the Doctor shouts. Rose smiles, sucking gently at first, and then the taste of him tingles against her tongue. It's clean and sweet, the taste of soap and water and the essence that is the Doctor. Her hair falls in her face, persuaded downward by the steady fall of water, but she doesn't mind the darkness that over takes her eyes. It's all sensation now - breathing around him, tasting him, the way he thickens and grows with every powerful suckle of her mouth.
**
The Doctor groans, and his hands push her hair back from her face and bury there - hips moving in time to Rose's mouth, the sight of her just as erotic as the sensation. Inside of her mouth or inside of her, she enfolds and hugs and squeezes him in all of the ways he wants and needs. She's like a furnace, so hot she threatens to burn him up and the pleasure is as intense as pain. Her tongue whirls around him and he can't stop the noises from escaping his mouth. He never, ever feels so alive as he does when he is with her and she's sheltering him from the outside world - taking the most intimate part of him and keeping it safe.
Rose smiles and rolls her tongue around the baby-soft tip of him, then sucks hard around his ridge, allowing her teeth to rest on the bell-edge. The Doctor shouts, head thrown back, water in his eyes and his nose and his hands tighten like vices around Rose's head. She makes a pleased sound and takes him deeper, and the Doctor's vision goes white with the electricity of it. He can feel something building deep inside of him - a tightening, and he licks his lips, struggling to find words. Rose plays... licking the tip of him and then taking him deeper, the alternating sensations driving him crazy. He wishes she would pick one, but the torture is delicious. His whole body feels as though it rests on the edge of a knife.
He forces himself to open his eyes again, to work his mouth so that he can tell her what he wants. “Rose...”
She lets him go with a soft pop, and the Doctor pulls her up, and then he's kissing her. Powerful, heady kisses. She tastes like tooth paste and spice and London and him... all wrapped together in a perfect cocktail.
**
His erection is pressing into her stomach and all she wants is to spread her legs and have him inside of her. Deep and hard and fast. Rhythmic and steady and touching that place so deep inside of her that makes her scream. Her hips undulate under the Doctor's hands as they kiss. Please, please, please... she can't stop thinking it, can't stop thinking he'll hear her thinking it. Her body's on fire from watching him, from tasting him tasting her, from the wanting.
Then she's pressed against a wall, the Doctor shielding her from the warming spray of the water, and she shivers, but the Doctor smiles at her. “Spread your legs, Rose.”
He's hypnotic when he's like this - powerful, aroused and male. Her legs fall open almost before he can finish the sentence and he's slipping a finger inside of her. Thick and calloused, his fingers are surprisingly deft, and Rose cries out, trying to arch but the ground is so slippery that the Doctor stills her.
“Careful,” he says, his voice low and gruff, and he slips a second finger inside of her. She stretches to accommodate him, her inner walls tightening reflexively against his invasion. She gasps, clenching around him and he laughs, his thumb flicking her clit. Suddenly, she's coming, bright lights and fire all over her body. When she opens her eyes again, she's met with pure lust. With an impatient push of his hand, the Doctor shuts the water off and steps out of the shower on to the bath mat, Rose behind him. “Now,” he says, and Rose couldn't agree more.
She drops to the floor, bracing all of her weight on her hands and forearms, looking over her shoulder at him. “Like this?”
He grins. “Perfect.”
He adjusts her, spreading her knees a little bit further apart, lines himself up, and slides home with little hesitation. He's so large and so full behind her that Rose almost sees stars. She closes her eyes and waits. The Doctor always lets her adjust for a minute before he starts to move. This time he can't wait as long. He's sliding into her, in and out, and the sensation is so different and so powerful. He's touching places he doesn't touch from the front and the pleasure makes her tingle and shiver. He's talking to her - telling her how tight she is, how she makes him feel, how this is just right... How he can see them coming together and it's beautiful and perfect.
She looks over her shoulder and sees him. Powerful and strong and dominating, she bursts with pleasure, collapsing onto her elbows as her strength gives way to sensation... And then he's reaching around her, hand spayed across her stomach pumping her back against his every stroke, coaxing her from the floor and onto his knees, his hands cupping her and she's leaning back, meeting him with every thrust.
This feels like nothing else - rough and raw. She grunts with every thrust and the sounds he's making tell her that he's close. She's aware of every atom of her body, the way the sweat rolling down her body feels just as clean and as good as the soap from the shower did.
She squeezes him, clenches him as she starts to build towards orgasm. Gasping, panting, she can't believe she's so close so soon. Something about this position triggers her and all it takes is a press of her fingers to her clit she's shattering. The Doctor gets more and more erratic in his thrusts, until he's jetting inside of her, coming in spurts, and he's moaning, collapsing forward ungracefully. Rose separates them, and then drops onto her stomach while the Doctor flops on his back.
Rose scoots over, laying her head on his chest. “Good morning.”
“Oh yes. It is.”
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Nine/Rose
Beta Reader: gbtso
Rating: Mature like whoa
Summary: Shower sex.
The Best Part of Waking Up
Special thanks to gbtso, without whom this would not have been good. I hope it lives up to your expectations, dear.
This fic was written for amberfocus, and is dedicated most especially to editrx. Here's hoping you get to feeling better soon!
There's something about the Doctor when he showers. Rose putters around the bathroom, brushing teeth, combing hair, pink and flush from her own bathing ritual and she'll catch him out of the corner of her eye. Head thrown back, water cascading over his body - thick and strong and oh, so perfect because it's him. He turns, and Rose watches the play of his muscles as his abdomen twists while he scrubs his stomach. The soap falls in lines and rivulets down his body. Rose is stunned at how quickly she's ready, heat rushing between her legs so fast it makes her head spin. She wants the Doctor with an animal, primal need.
Her robe drops to the floor almost without her conscious realization... the terry makes a soft sound as it meets with the tile, but the Doctor doesn't notice, as far as Rose can tell. He's serene in the mornings, before the manic energy of the day sets in and his eyes light with the fire of the universe. In these hours before dawn, he's half-hard and deliberate with her. She thinks of his hands over her body in the early hours of the morning - the way he teases her to wakefulness and then drives her to ecstasy. The short distance she walks between the counter and the shower tingle as her legs slide together and she can feel how very, very ready she is.
The door clicks as she opens it. The Doctor's eyes snap open, taking in her body with greedy eyes. She stands close to the door, her arms behind her back, and he focuses on her breasts, raised high and displayed prominently for him. The water, ricocheting off the Doctor's body, lightly sprays Rose. He reaches for her, but Rose shakes her head.
“I'm thirsty,” she says, dropping to her knees carefully.
The Doctor makes a sound, her favorite kind. It's a strangled laugh and a moan, a tensing of his whole self as he waits for what he knows is coming, and she can't deny him what he wants... what she wants. The stream of the shower above running over her is like phantom fingers, seeking places she wishes he would touch, caressing her and massaging her hyper-aware senses. She braces herself on the Doctor's thighs - hands splayed wide and her thumbs on the inside of his legs. The water sliding off his growing erection falls between Rose's breasts and she looks up at him. His eyes are closed, mouth half-open in anticipation.
Normally she would tease - little nips and licks and a stroke with her hand, but she is dying for this. Wants to taste him so badly she can't hardly stand it. She closes around him with her mouth, and the Doctor shouts. Rose smiles, sucking gently at first, and then the taste of him tingles against her tongue. It's clean and sweet, the taste of soap and water and the essence that is the Doctor. Her hair falls in her face, persuaded downward by the steady fall of water, but she doesn't mind the darkness that over takes her eyes. It's all sensation now - breathing around him, tasting him, the way he thickens and grows with every powerful suckle of her mouth.
**
The Doctor groans, and his hands push her hair back from her face and bury there - hips moving in time to Rose's mouth, the sight of her just as erotic as the sensation. Inside of her mouth or inside of her, she enfolds and hugs and squeezes him in all of the ways he wants and needs. She's like a furnace, so hot she threatens to burn him up and the pleasure is as intense as pain. Her tongue whirls around him and he can't stop the noises from escaping his mouth. He never, ever feels so alive as he does when he is with her and she's sheltering him from the outside world - taking the most intimate part of him and keeping it safe.
Rose smiles and rolls her tongue around the baby-soft tip of him, then sucks hard around his ridge, allowing her teeth to rest on the bell-edge. The Doctor shouts, head thrown back, water in his eyes and his nose and his hands tighten like vices around Rose's head. She makes a pleased sound and takes him deeper, and the Doctor's vision goes white with the electricity of it. He can feel something building deep inside of him - a tightening, and he licks his lips, struggling to find words. Rose plays... licking the tip of him and then taking him deeper, the alternating sensations driving him crazy. He wishes she would pick one, but the torture is delicious. His whole body feels as though it rests on the edge of a knife.
He forces himself to open his eyes again, to work his mouth so that he can tell her what he wants. “Rose...”
She lets him go with a soft pop, and the Doctor pulls her up, and then he's kissing her. Powerful, heady kisses. She tastes like tooth paste and spice and London and him... all wrapped together in a perfect cocktail.
**
His erection is pressing into her stomach and all she wants is to spread her legs and have him inside of her. Deep and hard and fast. Rhythmic and steady and touching that place so deep inside of her that makes her scream. Her hips undulate under the Doctor's hands as they kiss. Please, please, please... she can't stop thinking it, can't stop thinking he'll hear her thinking it. Her body's on fire from watching him, from tasting him tasting her, from the wanting.
Then she's pressed against a wall, the Doctor shielding her from the warming spray of the water, and she shivers, but the Doctor smiles at her. “Spread your legs, Rose.”
He's hypnotic when he's like this - powerful, aroused and male. Her legs fall open almost before he can finish the sentence and he's slipping a finger inside of her. Thick and calloused, his fingers are surprisingly deft, and Rose cries out, trying to arch but the ground is so slippery that the Doctor stills her.
“Careful,” he says, his voice low and gruff, and he slips a second finger inside of her. She stretches to accommodate him, her inner walls tightening reflexively against his invasion. She gasps, clenching around him and he laughs, his thumb flicking her clit. Suddenly, she's coming, bright lights and fire all over her body. When she opens her eyes again, she's met with pure lust. With an impatient push of his hand, the Doctor shuts the water off and steps out of the shower on to the bath mat, Rose behind him. “Now,” he says, and Rose couldn't agree more.
She drops to the floor, bracing all of her weight on her hands and forearms, looking over her shoulder at him. “Like this?”
He grins. “Perfect.”
He adjusts her, spreading her knees a little bit further apart, lines himself up, and slides home with little hesitation. He's so large and so full behind her that Rose almost sees stars. She closes her eyes and waits. The Doctor always lets her adjust for a minute before he starts to move. This time he can't wait as long. He's sliding into her, in and out, and the sensation is so different and so powerful. He's touching places he doesn't touch from the front and the pleasure makes her tingle and shiver. He's talking to her - telling her how tight she is, how she makes him feel, how this is just right... How he can see them coming together and it's beautiful and perfect.
She looks over her shoulder and sees him. Powerful and strong and dominating, she bursts with pleasure, collapsing onto her elbows as her strength gives way to sensation... And then he's reaching around her, hand spayed across her stomach pumping her back against his every stroke, coaxing her from the floor and onto his knees, his hands cupping her and she's leaning back, meeting him with every thrust.
This feels like nothing else - rough and raw. She grunts with every thrust and the sounds he's making tell her that he's close. She's aware of every atom of her body, the way the sweat rolling down her body feels just as clean and as good as the soap from the shower did.
She squeezes him, clenches him as she starts to build towards orgasm. Gasping, panting, she can't believe she's so close so soon. Something about this position triggers her and all it takes is a press of her fingers to her clit she's shattering. The Doctor gets more and more erratic in his thrusts, until he's jetting inside of her, coming in spurts, and he's moaning, collapsing forward ungracefully. Rose separates them, and then drops onto her stomach while the Doctor flops on his back.
Rose scoots over, laying her head on his chest. “Good morning.”
“Oh yes. It is.”