Fanfic - Wedding Night (Ten Rose) (1/1)
Title: Wedding Night
Author:
sarah_120
Rating: PG-13 / 15
Genre: Fluff, Romance, angst ( the teeniest bit)
Warnings: Sex polietly written
Spoilers: nope!
Summary:
Wedding Night
He laid her back softly upon the bed. His bed, well, their bed now he assumed. It wasn’t as if she had not been here before. Been here, laid here, slept here, made love with him here - and all with nothing more than the simplest of chaste caresses. He said made love, because to him, that’s exactly what they had done, a dozen times or more in smallest hours of the morning, as they lay face to face in the darkness, whispering to each other in hushed tones, eyes open and unguarded, allowing all that could never be expressed in words alone to pour freely from their souls. What was making love after all? A union of two beings: a coalescence of two souls into one? An act of love and affection: of acceptance and trust? Trust which he gave so implicitly as he spoke of the darkness that afflicted his heart. Trust which grew at the acceptance and compassion that shone, so unaffected from her eyes. And in return he listened to her - her hopes, her fears, and her dreams.
That was what had led to this moment now, a simple story, a memory that she’d recounted without motive or expectation. It wasn’t what she had said, but the way in which she said it, with almost a dreamy look in her eye, her voiced tinged with the subtle edge of wistfulness that made him realise, even when she had not yet herself, that this is what she wanted. She’d spoken softly of the time she’d found her mother’s wedding dress, how she’d slipped it on, delighting in the cool feel of the satin as she twirled in heels that wouldn’t fit her feet for several more years and imagined she was Cinderella. How, at a loss for a ring she’d found a golden hair tie and twirled it round her forth finger.
That was when he knew. Knew that she wanted to be a bride, knew that she wanted to be a wife, that though she may never ask, nor ever admit it to herself, that was what she wanted. Such a human tradition, marriage. So illogical and non-sensical that one should feel the need to formalize emotion. To write it down on a piece of paper: to signify it with a ceremony and a ring. If two people were in love what did it matter the rest of the world knew? They knew, and that was what was important. In Earth’s history, yes, he could see the point of marriage, but there was nothing romantic of the sort about it, it was a simple exchange of property from one man to another, the ring nothing more than a symbol of the woman’s entrapment, of her being owned. He could never own Rose. Would never willingly tie down that irrepressible spirit, that which made her so beautiful.
Not that Rose wanted to be owned. No, she didn’t want to be owned, but then coming from the part of earth’s history that she did, she didn’t see marriage as ownership - she saw it as belonging. A simple declaration that one’s heart was guarded over by another, that one had found that which completed them. The ring a means of shouting from the rooftops one’s elation and pure joy of loving and being loved in return. It was really quite beautiful when you thought of it like that.
He looked down at the woman in his arms, her smile so content, so serene. He knew he’d made the right decision. No he didn’t need marriage, what did he care if the world knew he loved Rose Tyler? He knew, and she knew and that was what mattered to him. But she did need it. She needed it and she wanted it, for him to say out loud what she already knew, that he was hers. Forever.
And so, as the twin suns had set in the azure cycalian sky he had proposed to her. Not on one knee, because this was a marriage of equals, but sitting next to her, fingers intertwined with hers.
“Rose,” he’d said softly to get her attention.
“Yeah,”
“Marry me.”
Her almost drowsy smile had turned to a look of pure shock. She had simply stared at him, dark brown eyes open and wide staring into his.
“Rose.” He’d uttered softly attempting to pull her back from her reviver.
“Yeah,” she had almost whispered.
“Look,” he had sighed almost a little sadly, “I can’t give you a house, a mortgage, a cat, a dog, a white picket fence…” He had trailed off. “Children,” though this time he had voiced it only in his head, “I can’t give you those either.” He had thought silently. “But,” he had said brightening, “I can give you a TARDIS, a ticket to the universe, and me. - All of me,” he had added softly as he gently brought his hand to caress her cheek.
It was those final words that had made her smile, those final words that had made her realise what he was offering, so much more than a marriage which would never be legal on Earth or indeed half the places they went, so much more than just a ring.
“Thank you.” She had said softly, as she had smiled the most beautiful smile, bringing her hand to his face in a mirroring of his gesture.
It was the same smile she had worn as they had softly exchanged their vows under the stars which bore down as their witnesses.
It was the same smile she wore now as he lowered her softly upon the sheets. His hands skimming across the silken fabric of her skirts as he kissed her soundly upon her lips allowing his tongue to dip lightly into her mouth. Piece by piece he undressed her and she him until it was just them. Just her and him, completely and utterly as one. No barriers, physical, or emotional separated them and it felt wonderful. It felt like pure ecstasy. He rocked slowly against her- his hands threading through golden locks. Why had they never done this before? The thought flitted briefly through his mind. But everything had its time and its place he realised. It was those very same months of chaste intimacy that he now questioned, that made this what it was; so perfect; so easy; their bodies and their minds so attuned to one another that every motion, every sigh, was in perfect harmony. They came together, holding each other tightly as pleasure washed through them.
Shifting position, he cradled her softly against him, her arm wrapped across his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin. Tilting her head, Rose turned to meet deep brown eyes.
“I love you,” she whispered, her hand moving to stroke his cheek.
“Quite right too.” He replied.
She smiled softly. It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but it was enough. More than enough. Tucking her head back under the crook of his neck, the purest of smiles tracing her lips, she began to drift softly to sleep.
He felt her body, begin to relax as dreams claimed her. One day he’d tell her, one day he’d summon the courage to say those three little words. Oh, she knows, he thought, she knows. But still, one day…Almost inaudibly, in a language she’d never understand, he offered a few melodic syllables up to the darkness. Bowing his head, he placed his lips to the ear of her slumbering form and whispered softly; “Roughly translated; I love you.”
“Quite right too.” He heard a whisper, and felt an arm tighten gently around him.