Echoes of Summer - Chapter Thirty-Nine: On the Console
Disclaimer: Neither Doctor Who nor any characters, items or materials of any kind pertaining to Doctor Who or the Whoniverse belong to me. I’m just looking for a good time. Hee. Trying them out for a bit, see how they fit.
Plot Summary: He was left with his lips against her jaw, her figure pressed to him as if she belonged there. One of many moments between the Tenth Doctor and Rose Tyler after he breaks his own rules to retrieve her from Bad Wolf Bay. The walls between worlds begin to fall, two different realities merging. And on the horizon a threat rises that threatens to destroy everything the Doctor holds dear.
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Beta: bratflorida
Rating: Starts at PG. Runs the gamut straight through to NC-17.
Spoilers: Oh yes. Series One through Series 4 Specials.
Timeline: AU after the end of Series 2. Spoilers up to, including and going past Series 4 though. I’ve seen all of Series 1 through 4, including the series 4 specials but am not very familiar with the Classic Who much. As such, if I happen to include anything that really touches upon Classic Who, other than it being unintentional, I’ll be surprised out of my head. Really. You’ll probably see a lot of familiar things in the fic that play into the series of DW. Bear with me, it all ties in together.
Warning: NC-17 right here folks!! Proceed with Caution!
Chapter Thirty-Nine (Hidden): On the Console
She felt the air leave her entirely, overwhelmed by his unexpected need even as he dragged her down to him. He struggled to almost inhale all of her, that scent that whispered of a garden and of summer and sand and he couldn’t possibly understand it all. But he wanted to see what she tasted like inside, experience her summer. Of all his oral fixations this was the one that drove him mad at times, mostly when he was alone with his own thoughts. As he thought it, as he dwelled on that small fact, he suddenly understood that she could hear everything he was thinking, everything he had just thought. It stunned him a moment, his frame stiffening the slightest bit. But a moment later, realizing everything that she had shown him already, everything that was Rose Tyler, his own mental declaration seemed almost small and insignificant. As such he didn’t bother keeping any desire in check then. With a groan resembling a snarl he deepened the kiss, needing to taste her.
Feeling his tongue sweep the inside of her mouth, she couldn’t fight the sound that escaped her, couldn’t have fought him even if she had desired it. There was only one thing she desired then, no matter how wrong he would find it. And from the way he clawed at her she doubted he would have found anything wrong at the moment.
Ripping herself backward she teetered on top of him, and they stared at each other, both heaving. The silence between them was strained and thick with a yearning confusion as they held their eyes locked, still gasping. She had every reason to breathe hard and the dawning bemusement registered on her face for he suddenly swallowed, nodding thoughtlessly, “Right. Respiratory bypass…not kicking…in…give it a mo-“
Completely disregarding his words she bent to him once more, kissing him breathlessly. His words were cut off, a low groan drawing from him slowly as she returned to his arms, her weight against him. This kiss now was gentle, his hands clasping her by the jaw and holding her to him tightly. He needed her to be exactly where she was, to never move away. She understood as they parted and returned, breathed against each other, each individual scent. She smelled of flowers and honey, air and sky. His scent was of everything earthy and natural, of Time itself, forever. He saw those images in his head and didn’t know if they were his images or visions that she thought. The feeling that came with them was a comfort, of all things that reminded him of home. His planet had reminded him of home, had been his home. The TARDIS reminded him of the same. Now so did she, her embrace, her mouth moving against his, needing more. He gave more at her insistence, searching for yet another reminder of home in the softness of her kiss, in the sparks she ignited when she ran her fingers against the sides of his neck and clung on.
Tearing her mouth from his, she gasped as he released her just enough to trail down her jaw, his lips warm, his tongue searing against her skin. His fingers came down to rest against her collar, his other hand clutching her by the back of the neck and tangling in the hair at the nape, twisting forcefully. She felt a cry rip from her at his strength, heat flaring in the pit of her stomach and deeper down still, almost stinging at her core. She tried to speak, tried to say something, anything. But she could only manage a whimpered beginning, her parted lips opening further as he bit into her neck, his tongue tasting the salt of her skin.
Oh…God.
He stiffened momentarily against her neck, his breathing just as labored as hers had become, respiratory bypass completely useless. He murmured thickly against her, his voice raw, seeming awestruck. “I can hear you…”
She couldn’t have fought through her dizziness to understand even if her very life had depended on it.
“All of it…” he gasped, his shoulders straining, and he pulled once more on the hair at the nape of her neck, bringing her to cry out, her own fingers digging into his shoulders as they swept up thoughtlessly. “Everything you’re thinking…I hear you…”
Bowing her head slowly and feeling as if she couldn’t keep it lifted on her weak neck, she tried to focus, tried to understand his words. But she couldn’t see past the mental blur of black and gray that she had come to associate with her Doctor, her physical eyesight ineffective in his embrace. The same way that she couldn’t see past the sudden vision that flashed before her closed eyes, of brown and green. Eyes. Brown eyes speckled with green. Summer. The summer breeze. Wildflowers.
He saw the vision as well, his head burying into her chest, his hand sliding from her jaw to catch against her collar, fingers coiling possessively.
“W-what…is that?” she asked senselessly with a shake of her head as he rocked her, the vision of green and brown lightening to a golden brown before her closed eyes and then once more, now to a molten gold. “W-wha-“
He didn’t respond, his mouth opening against her collar, his hair brushing against the underside of her jaw. She lifted a heavy hand to his head, tangling her fingers in his wild locks and clenching down, bringing him to make a small sound. The gentle wanting groan he had exhaled burned inside her, her stomach seeming to flip. Her other hand opened restlessly against his chest before lifting and clamping down on the column of his neck, tightening desperately against it.
“I can’t-“ she whimpered almost painfully, feeling her eyebrows turn up futilely as he trailed lower, tracking heat and wetness down the part of her collared shirt. She bit back a gasp as his hand slid down, slipping across her breast, yanking down the collar of the shirt almost urgently.
I need…I need…
His voice was in her head, stumbling over words even in her mind, all thought chased from him entirely. She bent to him as he captured her mouth once more longingly. The kiss was wet and heated. A growl tore from him as he struggled to claim her, attempting to remain in control even as he felt himself trembling to lose it, his fingers almost cramping against her breast.
She clamped down on the sudden groan that threatened to spill out. Her bandaged hands clutching him, she pulled on his hair, bringing him to snarl under his breath against the flamed skin of her jaw. This wasn’t right. No, it was right. She just couldn’t hope to ever have any kind of defenses against him with the way she felt for him. If a single long gaze could melt her, there was no way she would be able to survive anything more than that. She was sinking now, falling apart under his fingers and his mouth, quivering.
This isn’t fair-
And his mental shrug of her words, casting them aside as if she hadn’t whimpered in her head at all. Because it didn’t matter then. Not to him and quite truthfully, not to her after that. Not as much as the way he felt under her, his hand taking hold of the button shirt and yanking almost angrily, spilling buttons all around as he tore it open impatiently to reach more of her.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispered against her chest, his breath ghosting across the flat bone under his mouth. Her scent was powerful here, where her heart beat in her veins, where her skin was hottest. She released that scent unknowingly and he felt as if he swam in it. “Tell me-“
She hunched forward against him as he held his breath and seared heat to her breast. He took hold of her collar with his free hand and yanked it off her shoulder, exposing flushed skin to his mouth, her scent nearly suffocating him. He wanted it all then, to sink into her heat and to drown in the scent that was Rose Tyler, that was her arousal. And she was aroused, of that he was certain. He could smell it on the air, could almost state with perfect conviction how she would taste on his tongue.
Words spilled from her, indecipherable and throaty, as she let him rid her of one sleeve, her other hand refusing to release his hair. Even if he could have put into words what he needed her to do, he couldn’t have blamed her for not comprehending.
“Tell me what you want,” he ordered, pulling away from her and lifting a dark gaze to meet her eyes.
She heaved, one wrist suddenly caught by his when she took too long to respond, her free hand tangled in his hair. “No, I-” she replied weakly, circles pronounced under her eyes as she began to pale, under those summer irises.
He didn’t voice the threat that he could read her mind and rip her words from her. “Tell me what you want,” he said yet again. His grip tightened on her wrist, his breath circling the exposed skin above the edge of her bra. He was uncertain whether he was hurting her, his thumb trailing across the palm of her hand, but there was no pain in their connection.
“Y-you…” she breathed shakily before stopping and forcing a stronger tone, driving herself to gain some form of composure. “You know what I want,” she murmured to him hoarsely, her chest rising and falling, inadvertently brushing against his lips with every breath she took. She was well aware of it, aware that if he really wanted her he could have her, that she would not fight him. It wouldn’t even be a fight.
This wasn’t going to be easy, she realized as his eyes darkened further at the thickness in her voice, as his eyes met hers and caught, focusing furtively.
Without another word, his jaw clenching, he released the hair at the nape of her neck, hearing her breath slip from her audibly. A moment later that same breath caught as he took hold of the other side of her shirt and yanked it down her arm. Her face registered sweet shock at his gesture, her chest rising in mid-gasp. With the motion, still connected to her mentally, he heard her mindless words as they echoed deep inside, her face draining of color as she suddenly seemed to see something in his gaze.
The Oncoming Storm…that’s what it looks like, that’s what they see, when they…when they…dark. Angry. Pain. Scared. I’m scared. Yes. Oh God, yes…No. I’m scared…I’m scared. Don’t let it hurt. Don’t let it ever hurt. Will it hurt? I don’t want it to hurt. But he’s so dark…and I need it. I need it. Oh, I need you. Please. Please. Just hurry. I need you, inside. Now. Now, now, now. Bloody hell, do it. Just do it. No. Don’t do it. Don’t. I’m scared. Don’t let this hurt. Please, please, don’t let me get hurt. I love you-
He stared at her with parted lips. Her face was pale even as she seemed to surrender, her shoulders rigid as she waited. And he suddenly felt as if he needed to have it done, her words spurring him on. He needed to have her, to even overpower her, to keep her by his side. She was his. No one else could have her. The entire train of thought was barbaric, below him, but he couldn’t focus himself. He was overwhelmed by her scent, by her breath and by her yearning thoughts as they sped through his head in a confusing sentence of words and emotions.
Lifting his fingers to the hand gripping his hair tightly, he forced her to open her grasp and unwrap her fingers. Yanking her shirt free of that second limb, he flung it aside carelessly, off to a corner of the console room. It didn’t matter where, he just needed it off her then. His head turned toward her hand as she moved to return it to the nape of his neck. But then trembling, and not from fear, she dragged it to his jaw, bending toward him and burying her face against his neck. He dropped his head back a bit, his lips parting, his breath leaving him as she trailed her lips along his pulse. It had been so long since he had allowed anyone to touch him like this, to stir those feelings in him. And of course it would be her that he would allow, only her that he would want in this way. He felt his breath heave inside his chest, his cheek grazing against something far rougher than her skin.
Her bandaged wrist and palms.
Dimly nudging her wrist, he loosened the edge of the gauze he’d used. He wanted her skin, her flesh against his because anything rougher would feel like it was scraping. He knew through her mental state that she already felt quite tender, almost burning. He took hold of the loose piece with his teeth, his left hand lifting to settle against the curve of her hip and opening achingly against it. He appreciated that curve, the swell of it, and he blindly took hold of the wrapping with his other hand, unwinding it quickly, absentmindedly. He needed it off.
As the last edge of it trailed away, he was hit with the bitter, medicinal odor of the salve he had applied to her wounds. But her own scent lay under it and it was strong here as well, at the very center of her hand. He turned his face into it, shoulders straining as she bit into the skin of his collar. She pulled away as pain flared through their connection from him but even as she recoiled his hand was tightening on her hip, becoming steel and refusing to allow her to leave. She turned her head toward his, meeting his eyes. They were clouded, pupils dilated under their heaviness, his mouth parted. His gaze shifted past her eyes a moment later and she dimly heard his words, real mental words rather than the cloudy mix of breaths and groans. He was looking at her other bandaged hand and he wanted those wraps off immediately, especially now that he knew her hands were new under them. She projected quite clearly in return that she wanted his clothes off him and his gaze instantly darted back to meet hers, arousal evident there in that depthless blackness. At the same time that he lifted his hand from her hip toward her wrist, she was closing the distance between them, crushing herself to him, needing his mouth. He gave it wordlessly, a deep moan trailing from him as his fingers undid the other gauze edge, uncoiling it rapidly. As the other hand came loose, now free of gashes, she brought it to cup his face. She felt the line of his jaw move as he opened his mouth to her, as he returned her kiss, her want. The very exhilaration of finally being open to her was evident in his gestures, his thoughts. Was it because she had been open first?
He pulled back slightly from her, his eyes shut tightly, her thought ringing through his head. No, that wasn’t why, she understood. But as she dug further for the real answer, she was abruptly surrounded by an unyielding wall, coming up against it roughly. She mentally lifted her hands to it, pushing. Physically, her eyes came open to stare at him. He was heaving before her, his shoulders stiff, his jaw tight under her palms.
“What’s wrong?” she asked both in her head and aloud. Her voice suddenly seemed too noisy, too much in the strange world they shared.
His eyes opened, focusing within a mere fraction of a second, and he shook his head wordlessly, reaching for her once more. Only now his kiss was forceful, almost angry. Not angry with her, that much she was able to decipher from his internal mood and thoughts. But angry, bitter, at something that she didn’t understand. More than bitter. Heartbroken, with no other way to help it except to throw all caution and care to the wind and exist in the moment. It was the sort of temper he was in, to not allow anything to touch what they had then and there. To not allow anything to come near it, to protect it. The mere thought caused a sea of warmth to rush over her, her grip on him tightening. He belonged to her, she stated for him to hear, her heart trembling with the thought. He was hers.
With a shuddering breath in agreement, he took hold of her along the underside of her thighs, dragging her against him, aware that he was responding to her physically because of that simple declaration. She knew it as well as she collided against him almost painfully, her lips parting, her hips pressing to his in reckless need. Her head fell forward, her hands coming to steady herself against his heaving chest. She opened her eyes to look at him, her mouth bruised red, her eyes now a blazing summer night. He could see his moonlight trailing across her landscape, there in the world hidden in her eyes. Her lips closed as she gazed at him, as she leaned down and captured his mouth desperately, her hands winding into his hair once more roughly.
He could also hear her mental groans and sighs, heat flaring up his back and down into his center, burning him up as he returned her need. Lifting her silently, he rose to his feet, her legs instantly winding around his waist and pressing her core to him instinctively. How human, how animalistic. Yet he could not blame her. Because no matter how highly the Time Lords held themselves, they too would be undone by a simple human girl if they felt for her the way he did Rose Tyler. He couldn’t have fought her even a moment had she decided one day to skip right over the line they had firmly established between the two of them. In fact, he had been grateful for all those times she had fought her own nature, had held him in darkness instead of comforting him in a physical sense. He had been grateful, relieved, that she hadn’t pushed their boundaries. And he had gone to rest many a time wanting more, wanting her and her flushed skin, the scent of her arousal nearly drowning and destroying him. There had been days he had caught that scent in the hallways of the TARDIS, uncertain whether he wanted to curse the day he had brought a human girl aboard the TARDIS, or curse his desire to march down the hallways toward her room and take her then and there.
With a groan he took a step and shoved her down against the console of the TARDIS. She made a small sound at the back of her throat, her head falling against the controls as he recoiled only enough to stare down at her, at her heaving figure under him. No doubt all the dials of the console had bitten into her skin and back but she was striking, beautiful. His. Even in her state of undress she was stunning, he reflected, one of his hands lifting and trailing the curve of her thigh to the back of her knee. Shifting against her, he lifted the other hand and took hold of her hair once more at the nape of her neck roughly.
She cried out, her brow drawing into a frown, her expression pained. “Oh God-“ she uttered almost agonizingly, her back arching. She saw the darkness there, the images he’d just thought of the hallway, images of him storming into her room, her very center quivering. He wasn’t doing that now but this was just as intrusive and just as electrifying.
I am no God.
His words came in her head, a whisper. He wanted to tell her that aloud even as he yanked her head back by her hair, as he unwound one of her legs from his waist slightly.
I am no God.
Then, no longer caring, no longer wishing to think, he pushed her thigh away, opening her enough to reach down between her legs. He encountered no resistance under her skirt and in his blind heat he only managed to murmur incoherently against her mouth, his fingers slipping into her wetness. The sudden assault brought a deep gasp to her lips and she mouthed an, “Oh-“ even as he bent to her lips to capture that moan. He needed to hold that sound in his own mouth, needed to roll it about and revel in it. His fingers exacted their own revenge on her as he met her kiss, her breath stifled under his own. She bucked against him, breaking from his lips, cries ringing from her as he played, fingers sliding and skimming, rubbing and teasing. She was limp in his embrace, languid yet rigid as he tested her, gauging her reaction by facial expression alone. Her thoughts were a mere ramble of words and sighs, at times screaming and deafening him, other times caressing his mind weakly. By her parted lips alone he knew running a finger here didn’t affect her as much as flicking a finger there and he was rewarded with a gasp and then a plea, her head thrown back, her hips lifting to him almost as a sacrifice. He desired her sacrifice, desired her as her scent threatened to overwhelm him. Did she taste the way he thought she did from scent alone? He didn’t know and neither did she, he understood.
Skimming through her memories and her thoughts like an open book, he could see everything of her. What she liked, what she didn’t, what she had given up, what she had held close to her heart. Even as he spread his fingers against her core, as he slipped one in to her convulsive cry, he knew that touching her this way was arousing and simultaneously affecting her mentally. She wanted him, all of him, everything that he was. And she was afraid in her desire. Afraid of this Oncoming Storm she had witnessed very few times. Yet the mere thought of being taken by someone like him was exciting her even more. She had wanted his previous incarnation, witnessed him now in her head. A fantasy of hers, replayed numerous times, always at night in the darkness of her room. Being taken by his previous self, roughly and almost angrily. Then a fantasy of himself, with the youthful features, with the gentler face and softer words but still possessing that darkness of his former self.
She was slippery under his fingers and his lips parted, his breathing hitched as he inhaled her scent. He wanted to taste her, all of her. He moved to do so, his slick fingers leaving her, his free hand lifting from her hair and taking hold of her wrist, yanking it above her head.
She allowed him senselessly, her back arching with the gesture. A moment later he had her other wrist above her head as well, trapped by the outer fingers of his other hand. Her eyes came open to gaze at him as he clutched her pinned wrists with one hand and lifted his wet fingers to his lips, his tongue flicking out. With a pained moan she heaved desperately, her eyes closing in heated desire as he tasted her on his fingers.
“You taste sweet,” he murmured as if she had really wanted to know. Proving it to her, he bent over her trapped form again, exhaling as her breasts pushed up into his chest. His slick mouth captured hers, allowing her to taste herself on his tongue.
She quivered as he pulled away a bit, his fingers returning to her core, missing her heat. Opening her eyes to gaze at him she breathed, tears suddenly glistening in her eyes, “Please.”
His hair falling damply across his forehead as he restrained her arms over her head, he stared down at her shivering figure. “Tell me what you want,” he said to her once more softly, his fingers also slowing. She finally did sob, her head falling back weakly at his words. He pressed his face against her throat, hearing her heart race under his ear. “Anything you want. Anything. Tell me. Show me. Make me understand how you want this-”
As if this is to be our one and only time. As if this was the end of the world. Help me understand.
She did so upon hearing the plea in his mental voice, his physical voice. Visions swarmed her mind as she summoned them, as she brought them to the forefront of her thoughts. And she flung them at him frantically, needing him to see and finish it, put her out of her sweet misery. “Take them,” she whispered, her eyes clenched shut, her back arching as his fingers moved mindlessly against her, a groan sliding out between her lips. “Take them-“
So many visions. His eyes opened and still all he could see were the visions, the force with which she flung them at him. Even if he hadn’t been reaching out with his mind, he would have been cracked upside the head with them. With the visions came so many other senses filling them. She desired his lips against her throat, against her own mouth. In the fleeting vision, he caught what must have been the heat of his breath as it trailed across her skin and the force with which she wanted him to kiss her. She was whispering in his ear even then, her words thick, her frame trembling under him yet reaching for him desperately.
Stop.
It was her voice whispering it in his head but at the same time she threw another image at him, confusing him. He almost couldn’t tell her mind from reality. He caught the scent drifting from his hair as she had an image of trailing her fingers through the soft locks, clamping down and dragging his head back to kiss him freely. Kissing him in her head but unable to on the TARDIS console, her wrists still pinned. He felt the impression of his lean arms tightening around her nude frame through her images, pressing soft skin but hard angles to her curves as he sank down into her. The fleeting realization as she envisioned the two of them in bed, as she tried to show him how she would feel with him inside her but unable to because everyone was different, him especially. But she wanted it, needed it. Heaving, limbs wet with sweat, slick against each other. The motions, the intensity.
Stop…
He tried to focus through her visions, straining, unaware of everything else around him. Just to regain some semblance of control, to try to sort her images. But perhaps that was what being human was. Complete loss of control when one felt safe, desired.
Please. Please stop-
He couldn’t find fault with it. He could abandon everything with her, just let himself feel so long as it was with her. She made him feel safe in her arms. And he had his own visions, visions of her beneath him, her skin flushed. Images of her lips parting as she took him into herself. Images as she moved and shifted in darkness, her breath, her mouth and her heat. The feel of her on top of him, before him. Something was rising in him, a need. A desperate need to not stop, to continue. Faster. More. Hurry. Don’t stop. He didn’t understand it but it was polarizing, dragging him in one direction and then another. His hearts were beating faster than he was accustomed to, his breath hitching. But his own images wouldn’t stop either and for a moment he wasn’t even sure they were still his and not hers once more. The feel of her as he trailed his fingers across the back of her shoulder, as he pulled her backward to him by the curve of her hip, as she stiffened when he was inside of her. Was that one of his desires or one of hers? He didn’t even know anymore but it wasn’t as if it mattered because it just meant they both wanted that. Her cries ripping from her, perspiration trailing across her skin, making it glint in soft light as he claimed her. Something was coming, cresting but he continued on. He wanted to see, needed to see her peak as he moved within her, wanting to feel himself climax inside her. He saw the soft lines of her gentle smile as she turned to him and allowed him to kiss her deeply, a purr rising from her throat. Even in his own head she was beautiful, striking. He needed to continue until he reached the end and he was so close as it was. Heat rose inside him in wild waves, his breath leaving him in gasps. He was close. No. She was close. The peak was there, waiting for him to crest it. Just a bit more. An eternity more of this feeling.
Doctor-
Something broke within him, a sudden dam. But she was the one crying out under him, aloud. He shut his eyes tightly, feeling as if he needed to ride the feeling out but he was aware of himself physically and he was still complete. He didn’t understand. Rose was shifting under his grip however, her arms straining over her head, her muscles trembling. He snapped back from her slightly as if she had hit him, unaware of his limbs, only that she was somehow hurt. An expression resembling pain crossed her face as she turned it away from him, her chest lifting and falling erratically under him, her breath uneven as she gasped unsteadily. He realized a moment later why she was flushed and what that mounting feeling in his head had been. He slowly pulled his fingers from her core, feeling the shiver that rippled through her at his trailing touch transfer to him through their mental connection. And for one complete moment he had no idea what to do.
Silence enveloped the console room of the TARDIS, falling heavily and unbearably painfully. Quiet except for her softening whimpers and moans.
She moved her arms slightly and he abruptly remembered to release her. He did so gingerly, his eyes darting across her wrists and understanding that he had left them pinched and bruised. They would show the marks in a mere matter of hours and he flexed his fingers, looking down at them as if to blame them. Where had he disappeared to, the usual him, the Time Lord, when she had been screaming at him to stop? He recoiled from her, rising away and straightening blindly, shamefully.
Sitting up very slowly, her chest still heaving, Rose placed her hands down at her sides to lift herself up. She trembled, he could see the fine shivers racing through her but he waited for her as she bowed her head away from him in silence. And now, self conscious, she lifted one hand and shoved her skirt down toward her knees to cover herself. He heard her convulsive swallowing quite clearly as she forced her breathing to slow, and he studied her as she lifted the other hand and smoothed down her hair reflexively.
As she lowered herself from the console, she merely allowed it to hold her up, her legs not fully capable of keeping her steady yet. Even through their connection, dim now but not yet severed, he could sense how weak she was feeling, how awkward. Her eyes shifted toward him, only making it to his chest before they darted away, focusing on the grate below their feet.
Feeling pain in his chest at her reaction, he lifted a hand toward her, his lips parting. But even he reacted at looking at his hand. One was still slick with her, the other had trapped and held her down to the console. He couldn’t touch her with either hand.
She whispered softly, her eyes averted, her head bowed. “It shouldn’t have happened that way.”
He stared at her, his hearts beating erratically out of sync. “At all.”
Darting toward him for a fleeting moment, her eyes hesitated once more on his chest as if they couldn’t bear to go higher. “Don’t say that.”
He didn’t understand her words then.
Turning her body away from him the tiniest bit, her hands taking hold of the console behind her, she said quietly, “It wasn’t wrong.”
Swallowing inaudibly, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, he replied, “Wasn’t it?”
“No,” she answered firmly yet still refusing to meet his gaze. “It wasn’t wrong.” And she straightened finally, her head bowed. “It just wasn’t…how I would have wanted it. What I expected to feel.”
He lifted his head, looking down at her through weary eyes. “What did you expect-“ But a moment later he cut himself off. He already knew what she had expected to feel. What she had wanted. He had just been so caught up in himself and everything he had asked her to show him that he hadn’t been aware of her until she had already crested that peak. He felt his shoulders fall wearily, felt a sudden burden fall on him.
She was still murmuring quietly and he caught her words at the end. “-going to bed.”
He nodded numbly, his eyes falling away from her. Would he be able to face her in the morning? Would he be able to do anything in the morning to make it right at all? Between the two of them? Between the present and the future? Even more, could he give her up now? Now that he had that faint glimpse into what waited for them? The deaths of those people to come? Those people that he barely knew but had somehow come to mean so much to him that he would entrust them to go back for him? Martha Jones, Donna Noble, Jack Harkness. Even his own daughter.
Everything would change in the morning. He would see to it. But was this the way he wanted it all to end?
And then he became aware that she was still before him, was holding out a hand to him. He looked at it then at her, a gentle frown crossing his face as he met her summer eyes. They were soft once more, the faint ghost of a smile almost turning the corners of her lips but it was fragile there, waiting on him. Dependent on him.
“Come to bed with me,” she whispered. “Let’s make it right.”
Looking down at her hand once more, his hearts locking up inside his chest, he hesitated what seemed to be an eternity. Yes, he agreed. Allow them both the chance to make it right, to make it perfect between the two of them before he went and destroyed it all.
Wordlessly, he took her hand and she exhaled as if she had been holding that breath for far too long. Her relief burst from her and he felt the waves within himself still, felt as they ran through him. He felt himself go limp as she turned and swept toward him, releasing his hand to wind her arms around his neck almost violently, painfully. With a stunted breath he embraced her in return, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his arms tight around her waist and back. And there was her scent once more, their mental connection flaring powerfully from their contact, the earlier waves of shivers threatening to rise yet again. With it came the desire to experience her, for the first time. Once more.
“Just one night,” she murmured against his neck, her frame trembling in his lean arms. “Just one.”
He agreed. Just one. One night in which he would give himself to her entirely and take her just as completely One blissful night to allow himself to sink into her warmth and believe the world, the universe, to be right.
Because everything would change in the morning.
Next Chapter - Chapter Forty: All That Matters
Her thoughts were calm, the complete opposite of his and even as he noticed it, he was aware that she could sense how chaotic the voice in his head was. He went to rear his thoughts back, to slow them down and she looked over her shoulder at him, a small smile quirking the corners of her lips. The mere presence of the smile threw everything from his head then. All he knew was that he wanted to kiss that mouth, immerse himself in her thoughts and her embrace.