Fic: Done Pretending
Title: Done Pretending
Author: on Teaspoon: Timeweaver, on lj: spellweaver731 - My Fan Fiction Master List
Beta: None but I am in the market, if you're interested drop me a line
Rating: Adult
Characters/Pairing: Rose, Ten, OC, Rose/Ten
Genre: Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: Descriptions of violence and death. I am not sure how to gauge how bad it is but I don't want any one to read something that would make them uncomfortable. Consider yourself warned.
Written for a prompt over on the 'Jiggery Pokery'...is love, ficathon. You should check it out (and fill a prompt! :D ).
Summary: After the battle is over they are both done pretending.
Disclaimer: The Doctor, Rose, The TARDIS and all other Doctor Who characters, settings and artifacts belong to the BBC or so I am told.
Author's Notes: I've never written teh smutz before, this seemed like a good place to try my hand at it. This fic got away from me and just keep getting longer and longer which is why it is posted here instead of at the ficathon.
***The day was won at last.
The pervasive smell of charred flesh hung thick in the air. Breathing through your mouth didn't help at all. The bitter-sweet taste was even worse when it hit your tongue, there was simply no escaping from it. The mournful wails of the living grieving over the dead mixed with the cries of jubilation coming from those who were ready to celebrate their recent victory. It all created a discordant cacophony, further confusing Rose's already overwhelmed senses.
Rose didn't feel like celebrating; the tyrant, King Malkon, was overthrown, his lawless 'police' force were defeated at last, but at such a cost.
Rose had seen death before, even on this massive a scale, but never had she seen such suffering, such gruesome destruction of once living flesh. So much of the death she'd witnessed previously had seemed somehow cleaner that this. Dalek rays took you out with a precise bolt of energy, Cybermen deleted you with a casual and unfeeling, metal touch, a neck could be quickly and neatly snapped by a Slitheen or a Gelth. But this...this had been simply horrific.
The pile of rubble that she sat on might once have been a stoop that had probably been attached to the pile of rubble behind her; it was still recognizable as a house, if only barely. She felt hollowed out inside, like she might never feel anything again. So it was quite surprising when she finally felt the slight wetness on her face.
Rain, just a little falling lightly at first. Rose looked to the sky that had moments ago been hazy with smoke. Suddenly it was pouring, the drizzle that had initially caught her attention had fast become a torrent, mercifully washing away the blood and the unmistakable stench of violent death.
The cold shock was enough to wake her from her dazed stupor. She had to find the Doctor. They'd separated when it became clear that victory could only be accomplished by going at the battle from two sides. The Doctor had released her, sonic screwdriver clutched tight in her hand, to disable the energy source that powered the weapons of the enemy, weapons the more technologically primitive rebellion had no hope of winning against.
The Doctor had gone on to confront the madman who was responsible for all this, as always there was one last chance to be given out. One last chance that would likely be refused as was so often the case.
She'd done her part, she'd followed the Doctor's hasty instructions to the letter, fighting her way to the nondescript bunker that housed the elctro-gravity accelerator. By the time she'd disabled the device every single one of the rebels who had accompanied her had fallen. Draven, lovely and sweet Draven, who had not yet reached her own age, whom she'd danced with just the night before, had been the last to succumb. He'd defended her life with his own and enabled her to complete the vital task.
The accelerator had gone out with nothing but an anti-climatic pop of sparks and smoke, but the effect had been immediate. The police's guns had stopped working; the much more rudimentary defenses of the rebels had finally became effective. Before Rose knew it the battle was over, the police overrun by the rioting masses.
She wanted to run, to run and escape from this place. She wanted at least to run to the fortress where she had parted from the Doctor, but the injury she'd sustained would not allow it. She limped through the rain-slick streets, favoring her damaged left leg, moving as swiftly as she could. She kept her eyes pointed straight at the imposing structure ahead, tying not to see the sad remains that littered the cobble-stones. It was no use though, the mangled mess surrounding her was burned into her retinas, the afterimage still there even when she closed her eyes.
As she neared the building Rose discovered that large sections of it had collapsed. The Doctor had been inside; she'd left him in there to sort out King Malkon. She didn't see him anywhere among the scattered groups of huddling people outside.
She searched frantically for a flash of brown coat, a mop of unruly hair, suddenly worrying that the face she was searching for was no more. She wondered if he even could regenerate if he was hit full on by the gravity-guns that ripped and burned flesh away from cracking bones. With a growing sense of dread in her stomach she made for the front doors, once grand and imposing, now blown off their hinges, the frame looking unsound.
“Rose!”
She spun around at the the sound of her name. It was not the Doctor's voice but it was one she recognized. Marvten Hassh, a leader in the rebellion, splashed through the growing puddles to reach her side.
“Where's the Doctor? Have you seen him? Is he still inside?” Rose asked him in rapid succession.
“He's looking for you,” Marvten informed her. “He was rather worried when I last saw him, I told him I'd help look for you.”
“Is he alright, though?” Rose asked. “Was he hurt?”
“I don't think he was hurt-everything happened so fast-he seemed alright,” Mavten answered.
“Do you know where he is Marvten?”
“No, sorry,” he paused and took a good look at the sorry state of her. “You should come back to the base with me, he'll be sure to check in there soon and you're injured. You need to get out of this rain and have you're wounds treated,” he said looking pointedly at the open gash on her head and the raged and bloody mess that was once the leg of her trousers.
Rose wanted to argue but she knew he was right. She'd not get far on her damaged leg, it would be better to go somewhere and wait for the Doctor to find her, but the thought of him out in the rain searching for her in vain was upsetting. Her instincts told her to search for him, not to stop until he was found. At last she nodded her head.
“I'll go back, but I need you to find him,” she said in a tone that she wished hadn't sounded so pleading.
“Are you sure you can make it on your own? You look like you're in pretty rough shape,” he said, his concern evident in his tone.
“No, I'll be fine. Please, find him for me. He could wander around this city for hours lookin' for me,” Rose said, the pleading even more distinct now but she found she cared less. She needed the Doctor back with her, safe and sound.
“Alright, I'll find him. You go straight back to the base. We have medical supplies and staff already working on the injured. You get checked out, you hear?” Marvten said, looking her straight in the eye.
“I will, I promise.”
Rose watched him walk off and then turned towards the base, it was going to be a long walk with her limping gait. She wished this planet had some sort of motorized transportation. The best she'd be able to manage here would be to climb into a wheelbarrow and ask someone to wheel her to the former hotel that the rebels had converted into a base of operations.
At long last she made it back to her temporary home for the last week. Had it only been a week since they'd come here? The building had sustained some damage since she'd left it that morning, full of the belief that the Doctor would be able to end this conflict peacefully, without the need for violence. It had all gone so very wrong so very quickly, the chain of events had spiraled rapidly out of their control when desperate citizens started rioting in the streets.
The lobby had been converted into a temporary hospital, Rose saw several people she recognized being treated by the overwhelmed medical professionals that had been hurriedly gathered here. The activity in the room was frantic, nurses and doctors swarming like ants over the injured. Most of what she saw was just as terrible as the dead outside, more so in a certain way as these people were still suffering.
She saw Yalra being treated for burns all over her body, the young mother of two was just barely recognizable to Rose under the gauze and charred flesh. Yalra's husband had been one of the many 'disappeared' by the police force, leaving her with two sons to raise on her own. It was a story like so many here, people living in fear and loss.
Rose made her way hastily to the stairs. Her injuries could wait. She could take care of herself, there were others who needed immediate care. No one stopped her from making her way back to the room she and the Doctor had been assigned when they'd offered to help.
Standing outside the door she realized that she did not have the key; it was in the Doctor's pocket. Hard on the heels of that came the realization that she was still griping the sonic screwdriver like a talisman. The lock released quickly under a sonic pulse.
The sight of the bed made her want to weep; it was not until that moment that she realized just how tired she had become. She started to pull off her ruined clothing, hoodie, t-shirt and bra all went into a damp and bloody pile on the floor. Her jeans were a whole new problem however; she'd never get them over her injured leg without hurting herself further.
She scrutinized the screwdriver. Rose knew there was a setting for cutting fabric, but for the life of her she couldn't remember which one it was. Was it 4832b or setting 3216? Her body crumpled as the weight of the day caught up with her again, luckily the bed was there to catch her.
Tears leaked down her face. Rose realized she was shaking. Shock, I'm in shock. Distantly she wondered how pathetic she must look, nearly naked, wet and bloody, crying and shaking with her trousers half off, clutching a small metal and ceramic tool like it had all the answers.
The door flew open.
“Rose!”
The Doctor was here.
His clothing was torn, his hair in damp disarray. He'd never looked more beautiful.
She wanted to respond to his presence in some way. She was so relived to see him, alive and well and here, but her shivering has gotten worse, her throat felt closed off, choked with indescribable emotions.
He moved to her side so fast that to her confused mind it looked like he'd just appeared crouching at the foot of the bed where she sat. Some distant part of her brain was deeply embarrassed for him to see her like this, breaking down after the danger was all over, without even her clothing to shield her.
“Oh, Rose,” he said, his hand reaching to gently probe the skin near her head injury.
She gasped at the sudden pain and the surprising return of sensation.
“It's alright, you're gonna be fine,” he said. The Doctor wrapped her in the duvet, pulling it up around her trembling shoulders and then hurrying to the en suit. He came back with a warm, wet flannel and a basin of hot water. Gently he cleaned the cut on her forehead. He plucked the screwdriver from her trembling hands and cut away the remains of her jeans, peeling them back as carefully as he could but there was no way to remove them without hurting her, the torn fabric was caked with blood and mud; it was stuck in cotton ribbons to the gashes on her calf and knee.
Rose hissed in pain as the denim was lifted away, reopening wounds that had just managed to close. The Doctor pressed the flannel to the deepest gash, whispering comforting but meaningless words to her as his own face was screwed up tight with sympathetic torment.
Eventually the bleeding stopped. The wounds were cleaned, bandaged, and sealed with the screwdriver, but her shivering would not subside. Rose was beginning to feel like she'd never be warm again.
“There, all fixed up, they looked worse then they were, you'll be all healed before you know it,” the Doctor said with his false cheerful voice. It was a voice Rose knew well but it was usually reserved for when he was not alright and pretending otherwise, not for when she was not alright and he was pretending otherwise.
The fake smile fell off his face when still she did not respond. She wanted to, she wanted to be strong and give him a smile and a laugh, ask where they were going next, but she just couldn't. She was drained.
“You're tired, you need rest, that's all you need, right Rose?” He looked so desperate this time, hoping for some sign from her now that he'd finally dared to ask a direct question.
She tried to nod, but the motion was too slow to be natural. She blinked rapidly to keep the tears from falling afresh. Why couldn't she control them? Get a grip on yourself Rose! She was starting to wonder if maybe she was not as cut out for this life as she'd once thought. This terrible battle right on the heels of the loss of Mickey-it was too much.
Maybe the Doctor was right. Maybe she was just tired and she would feel fine after some solid sleep.
“I'll just get some sleep then,” she said at last, her voice breaking the tense stillness that had fallen in the time it took her to answer.
She moved to try and crawl up the bed but ended up just collapsing backwards, the duvet pined beneath her rather then covering her chilled flesh.
Before she could move to reposition herself the Doctor was at her side again. All false pretense gone from his face leaving it as naked as she was. She could see the hurt and fear etched in the lines around his eyes, so often crinkled with joy, now pinched with pain.
“Rose,” he said in an agonized whisper. He rested his forehead against hers.
After a moment he pulled back to look at her properly. He seemed to come to a decision. Standing up he began to shuck off his own torn and wet clothing. Rose watched him in complete shock. She'd rarely seen him take off even his suit jacket and now suddenly he was before her in nothing but his pants. She wished she was in more of a state to appreciate this turn of events.
That thought was enough to convince her that she was getting better. I just needed a shock to knock me from my shock, I guess.
The Doctor gently shimmied the duvet out from under her and crawled onto the bed. Rose realized she was gaping and closed her mouth with an audible click. He pulled the blanket up over them and turned to look at her. His eyes held even more anxiousness and fear then before, Rose could not remember a time when he had looked more vulnerable.
As she watched him carefully, his arms came up to grasp her shoulders. With a suddenness that surprised him as much as her, he pulled her in close and wrapped her in his arms, tucking her head under his chin. Adding to the surrealism of the moment was the realization that he was the one trembling now, his hands stroking up and down her bare back. She could feel the tension in him, he was strung as tight as a bow-string, ready to snap. Their chests were pressed together with nothing between them, she could feel his double heart-beat against her skin. The four beats drumming out a rapid staccato.
“I thought you were dead,” the Doctor said in a hoarse whisper, he cleared his throat and continued, his hands randomly clutching and releasing her flesh. “I got to the bunker and saw all the bodies and I thought for sure you'd died in there with everyone else. But you're alive...oh...I was so sure...Rose.”
He ducked his head and she felt an insistent pressure against the top of her scalp. He was kissing her head, she realized. His lips moved to the spot above her ear, then to her cheekbone, then the corner of her mouth. Without stopping he pressed his lips fully against hers. His lips were hard and tightly clasped yet they pressed with bruising intensity as his hands continued their roaming and grasping at her back, head and neck. He gasped as he pulled back. His surprise filled eyes searched hers as his hands came up to reverently cup her face, his thumbs stroking her chin and bottom lip.
Rose watched in disbelief as the Doctor's face seemed to crumple with emotion, his head fell so that his chin rested against his chest as if he could no longer support it's weight. She pulled him in close, this time it was her tucking him under her chin and her stroking his back in soothing circles.
His pain and trauma made her own easier to deal with; now she had someone else to focus on. Rose felt clear headed for the first time since she stepped out of the bunker.
“It's alright Doctor, we're both fine, yeah? We're alive and it's all over,” she said.
“Yeah,” he said quietly, his face pressed into the crook of her neck and shoulder.
She felt his lips pressing against her skin again, much less desperately this time, this kiss was softer and more open. He lightly kissed the spot just below her jawbone and she felt the unmistakable touch of his tongue. A shiver of pure pleasure at the sensation moved through her whole body. He pulled away suddenly to look at her, the look in the deep brown pools of his eyes left her even more breathless then his lips against her skin had.
“I'm done pretending.” There was finality and surrender in his voice.
His hands moved to her face once again just as his lips descended on hers, gentle and inviting this time, but still insistent. His tongue stroked her bottom lip until she opened her mouth for him. He slipped inside with a deft thrust. He explored her mouth with sure yet soft flicks and Rose felt like she might explode if he didn't give her more. She wanted more, she wanted everything. Just this gentle little kiss had sent a wave of heat and longing through her. Her body was ready for more with embarrassing quickness; she'd wanted him for so long.
The Doctor pulled back and Rose wanted to cry out in frustration. He was looking at her lips with unmistakable hunger.
“Rose, can I kiss you again?”
“Yes,” she answered, hoping the word had not come out as needy as it sounded to her.
Regardless it got the desired result, he swooped in to kiss her again, this time he held nothing back. Rose had never had a kiss that was such a full body experience before. His hands were everywhere, he stroked his legs along hers, careful of her injury, and pressed their hips together. She arched her body into his, feeling his hard length rub against her. They were both seeking friction, they both couldn't get enough. She let her legs fall open and he quickly nestled between them.
“Ohhh...” he groaned low in his throat when he came in contact with her core. He gave an involuntary jerk of his hips as he bit down hard on her shoulder.
“Rose...I need you.” His voice was breathless, she'd never heard him sound like this, she wanted to hear him sound like this everyday.
“Yes, yes Doctor...please,” she answered, no longer caring about the neediness in her voice because his was the match of it.
The Doctor slid his hand between them and stroked her through her knickers. Now it was her hips that made an involuntary thrust, seeking out his clever fingers, wanting more contact.
Supporting himself on one elbow he pulled the bit of green cotton down her hips. She lifted up and helped to move them all the way off. She let her legs fall open again and felt a flutter of nerves for the first time.
Rose bit her lip and looked up at him, his eyes were roaming all over her body, seeming to take her all in.
“Oh, that's brilliant,” he said softly, his face open in amazement. “You're so beautiful. My Rose.”
Hands and mouth descended on her, he griped her hips and ran his hands up her legs, agonizingly slowly. Each nipple was licked and sucked into a hard bud, every inch of her skin was caressed. Her own hands were far from idle as she stroked his back and pulled on his hips, digging her nails in. She wished she had more hands now that she was finally allowed to touch him where she pleased.
She loved the width of his shoulders, the protruding bones in his hips. At long last she ran her hands through his hair, again and again while she kissed his neck, so often hidden under collars and ties. Those times when he wore an open collared shirt had always tantalized her, she'd longed to suck and nip at him. Now she could and she was indulging in every fantasy at a rapid pace, afraid on some level that this wouldn't last, that there would not be enough time.
His fingers found her folds again but this time without any fabric in the way. “You're so wet Rose, so ready for me, it's incredible,” he whispered like a secret.
Rose felt she should be embarrassed by his words, by how quickly she'd gotten to this state of arousal, but he sounded so happy, so amazed that all she could feel was giddy joy. His fingers brushed the bud above her opening and all thought was momentarily lost. He rubbed it with soft circles that were not giving her nearly enough friction. She moaned in frustration.
“Doctor,” she gasped, not recognizing the sound of her own lust-filled voice. “Please Doctor, please now...” Rose felt nearly incoherent with want; a bone deep ache for the man above her filled her, pulsing in her wrists, flooding her center with heat and burning her mind away to its golden core. She'd never wanted like this in her life.
He striped away the last cloth barrier between them and settled back into the cradle she'd made for him with her hips and legs. Her hands came up to cup his shoulder-blades and she swallowed thickly. Rose reached between them to guide him to her entrance. With a slow, drawn-out push, the Doctor slide inside her their bodies meeting chest to chest, thighs around hips. She could feel his hearts, now pulsing deep inside her, a different sort of rhythm than her own single, rapidly beating organ.
“Yessss...” the Doctor hissed out, his breath puffing against her neck where he'd nestled his head. She felt both deeply satisfied as he stretched her and in desperate need of more. He kissed her neck and thrust again, they both groaned with pleasure at the fulfilling movement.
He supported himself on his hands to look down at her, spread beneath him, her golden hair a halo on the dark pillow.
He smiled that crinkly grin that was all hers.
“Hello,” the Doctor said in a tone she'd heard a thousand times, this often repeated exchange a ritual of their continued amazement in each other, an affirmation that they would always find one another in the end.
“Hello,” Rose answered with her own smile, completing the vow.
He thrust again, her body rose to meet him, over and over. They'd waited and wanted too long to draw this out, their rhythm became frantic and hard.
“Oh, Rose...” She heard him call her name and she found herself gasping out his in return.
Gazing up at him Rose saw that his face was squeezed tight in exertion. She ran her nails down his back, harder then she'd intended but the sound he made seemed to indicate that he didn't mind in the least. He kissed her again, with bruising force this time, his tongue invading her mouth and demanding her complete surrender. The Doctor began to grunt softly at the apex of each stroke, putting all his wiry strength into his thrusts. All Rose could do now was wrap her arms and legs around him and hold on.
The coiling feeling of her approaching release was getting stronger, Rose struggled to keep her eyes open. When she fell, she wanted to see him. Their eyes locked; she loved this man. In this moment she could see the truth clearer then she ever had before; he loved her too. His eyes had never been able to lie to her.
As she arched her hips into his, the Doctor gave a powerful thrust and hit her in just the right way to send her tumbling over the edge. Her muscles clenched and released as one in fluttering waves as her orgasm washed over her. Above her the Doctor was still striving for his own end, his strokes becoming more frantic and less precise. At last he came with a shout of her name, burring his head in her neck, holding her tight enough to bruise.
His body collapsed on top of hers, the weight of him was wonderful, Rose never wanted to move. Eventually he rolled to the side, taking her with him easily, keeping them warped around each other, keeping himself inside her. She was still breathing hard and she suddenly realized that she was grinning like a loon. He smiled back and pulled her under his chin, back to the position they had started in.
“My Doctor,” Rose whispered, “no more pretending for us.”