Be Careful What You Wish For
Title: Be Careful What You Wish For
Author: castrovala9
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: M
Warnings: Beta'd by suntrappt.
The Doctor took her inside the TARDIS wardrobe room every time.
She hadn't known it would be that way, of course, not the afternoon in the console room when she had gathered her courage and blurted out the question of why they weren't sleeping together, given the fact that she loved him, he obviously loved her, and wasn't that what people who were in love did. She waited tensely, nearly holding her breath, until eventually he nodded and smiled and told her to follow him. It never occurred to her to refuse, or to ask exactly where they were going.
He always picked her outfit. The first time it was a kilt, and at the sight of it she almost backed out of the room before things had fairly begun. Then she reconsidered, figuring a bit of roleplaying couldn't hurt and after all, she was finally getting what she wanted so she couldn't rightly complain. So she wore the kilt and knelt before him and he commanded her to be harder, rougher, as she sucked him off. When she wasn't, he rammed himself down her throat and made her choke before he relented. She practised on a banana for hours that night.
The purple uniform she wore the next day was faded and tight across the front, and the Doctor closed his eyes after he asked her to adopt an Australian accent and taunt him throughout. Her accent slipped and her voice faltered; she almost stopped, a dozen and more times. The Doctor, though, clearly wanted it, and he slammed into her harder with every insult, especially the ones about Heathrow. After he came, he lay atop her for long minutes before rolling away and quickly finishing her off with his fingers. He stared at her with cold, hard eyes and left the room, abandoning her to pick herself up when she was able.
Rose decided she never wanted to wear the purple uniform again, but the next time he selected it, she did not complain.
She liked the animal pelts much better. Wrapped in them, she felt feral and dominant, and it turned out that was exactly how the Doctor wanted her to behave. She exhausted herself on top of him; the gouges she had carved into his back stained her fingers.
After that, she wore a vast variety of items: long, thin, bright, flowing, new, old, and alien, foreign to both body and mind. Most pieces were comfortable, a few were awkward, and she accepted them all with little thought until the morning he reached into the wardrobe, shoved aside her dinner lady outfit, and pulled out an impossibly long multicoloured scarf. She nearly balked at that point, except that if she objected, she knew they would never enter this room together again, would revert to a "just" relationship: "just" friends, "just" travelling companions. So she stayed, and learned that two of the scarves provided enough material to tie her down and leave sufficient for a blindfold and a gag. They were also long enough to tie, blindfold, and gag the Doctor, she found out later.
Of course, she didn't always call him "Doctor" when they were inside the wardrobe room. Sometimes he made her use different names: "Professor," "Master," and strangest of all, "Grandfather," which she uttered whilst wearing a schoolgirl uniform and being eaten out atop a desk.
And sometimes he called her different names, though he always seemed to regret it later. The time he was roughest, when he fucked her with the carrot and then atop the exercise bicycle, it was "Mel." The time he was most gentle, when she wore the velvet garb and he took her slowly, he murmured a name that sounded something like "Missy," though that wasn't quite right.
Then he called her nothing when he entered her from behind as she wore a skimpy blouse and short shorts.
The following afternoon, he suggested that she go home to stay with her mum for a while. He didn't say for how long, or when he might return.
When she unpacked inside the flat, her Union Jack t-shirt was missing.
Author: castrovala9
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: M
Warnings: Beta'd by suntrappt.
The Doctor took her inside the TARDIS wardrobe room every time.
She hadn't known it would be that way, of course, not the afternoon in the console room when she had gathered her courage and blurted out the question of why they weren't sleeping together, given the fact that she loved him, he obviously loved her, and wasn't that what people who were in love did. She waited tensely, nearly holding her breath, until eventually he nodded and smiled and told her to follow him. It never occurred to her to refuse, or to ask exactly where they were going.
He always picked her outfit. The first time it was a kilt, and at the sight of it she almost backed out of the room before things had fairly begun. Then she reconsidered, figuring a bit of roleplaying couldn't hurt and after all, she was finally getting what she wanted so she couldn't rightly complain. So she wore the kilt and knelt before him and he commanded her to be harder, rougher, as she sucked him off. When she wasn't, he rammed himself down her throat and made her choke before he relented. She practised on a banana for hours that night.
The purple uniform she wore the next day was faded and tight across the front, and the Doctor closed his eyes after he asked her to adopt an Australian accent and taunt him throughout. Her accent slipped and her voice faltered; she almost stopped, a dozen and more times. The Doctor, though, clearly wanted it, and he slammed into her harder with every insult, especially the ones about Heathrow. After he came, he lay atop her for long minutes before rolling away and quickly finishing her off with his fingers. He stared at her with cold, hard eyes and left the room, abandoning her to pick herself up when she was able.
Rose decided she never wanted to wear the purple uniform again, but the next time he selected it, she did not complain.
She liked the animal pelts much better. Wrapped in them, she felt feral and dominant, and it turned out that was exactly how the Doctor wanted her to behave. She exhausted herself on top of him; the gouges she had carved into his back stained her fingers.
After that, she wore a vast variety of items: long, thin, bright, flowing, new, old, and alien, foreign to both body and mind. Most pieces were comfortable, a few were awkward, and she accepted them all with little thought until the morning he reached into the wardrobe, shoved aside her dinner lady outfit, and pulled out an impossibly long multicoloured scarf. She nearly balked at that point, except that if she objected, she knew they would never enter this room together again, would revert to a "just" relationship: "just" friends, "just" travelling companions. So she stayed, and learned that two of the scarves provided enough material to tie her down and leave sufficient for a blindfold and a gag. They were also long enough to tie, blindfold, and gag the Doctor, she found out later.
Of course, she didn't always call him "Doctor" when they were inside the wardrobe room. Sometimes he made her use different names: "Professor," "Master," and strangest of all, "Grandfather," which she uttered whilst wearing a schoolgirl uniform and being eaten out atop a desk.
And sometimes he called her different names, though he always seemed to regret it later. The time he was roughest, when he fucked her with the carrot and then atop the exercise bicycle, it was "Mel." The time he was most gentle, when she wore the velvet garb and he took her slowly, he murmured a name that sounded something like "Missy," though that wasn't quite right.
Then he called her nothing when he entered her from behind as she wore a skimpy blouse and short shorts.
The following afternoon, he suggested that she go home to stay with her mum for a while. He didn't say for how long, or when he might return.
When she unpacked inside the flat, her Union Jack t-shirt was missing.