The One True Free Life 6/26 (Adult--note rating change)
Title: The One True Free Life (6/26)
Characters: Alt!Ten/Rose, and everyone else I can cram in to the Alt!Verse, plus several OCs
Rating: Adult (note the change)
Spoilers: Everything
Disclaimer: It would be a very different, and possibly quite upsetting, world if I owned these characters. For the sake of the world's children, I don't.
Summary: When Rose and Alt!Ten return to Pete's World, after a much longer absence than planned, they find that things have begun to go a bit pear-shaped there. Can Our Heroes save the British Republic while at the same time working out their own Byzantinely complicated personal issues?
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26/ Epilogue | Whole story on Teaspoon
Rose laid on her bed, listening to the low rumble of men discussing what were undoubtedly very manly things in the drawing room, when Jackie knocked and entered. Rose rushed to hide something in her night stand drawer, almost knocking over the lamp in the process.
"I know what you're thinking." Jackie took the official position of all mother-daughter talks, sitting on the edge of Rose's bed.
"Yeah? And I know what you're thinking."
"Hey there, missy, no need to take that tone with me. I know what you're thinking, and what you're thinking is 'what if'. I'm right, I know I'm right. Your old mum is always right."
"What if what?" She rolled over on to her side and let her mother smooth her hair down.
"What if it's not what you think it's going to be. What if you were wrong. What if you fall out of love with him." There was no reply. "It's alright to think those things. Everyone does, even people who haven't traveled in time machines."
"Did you? With Pete?"
"Of course I did, sweetheart. And with your dad too, before you were born. I know things aren't quite as you expected, but even if they had been, you'd still be out there wondering about it all. It's just the way it works. It's how you know it's real."
Rose sniffled a little and the tip of her nose was getting red.
"And, since you know so much, what am I thinking, eh?"
This elicited a tiny little giggle from Rose, which then turned in to another sniffle. "I'm sure you all think that me and him are shagging each other rotten every time you turn around. But we're not, you know."
Jackie swatted Rose on the thigh. "Well for god's sake, Rose, what on earth are you waiting for, an invitation?"
"Mum!"
Jackie stood up again, satisfied that she'd solved one problem and created another, as it should be. "I don't know what's wrong with the youth today." She shook her head and left the room, sniggering to herself.
~o0o~
"Your stubble kind of hurts my face." Rose rolled on to her back and looked up at the stars, and at the absence of stars.
"It's because I'm so extremely macho," said the Doctor, very seriously.
She had to laugh at that. "I'll just have to toughen up and get used to it. Build a tolerance. That could be fun, yeah?"
"I could be persuaded to contribute to that endeavour." He rolled on to his side and nuzzled her neck. "Okay, Rose, here's your first dose," he murmured against her throat, as he planted the tiniest of kisses there.
She sighed and almost imperceptibly moved a little closer to him, pressed herself to his lips, just a bit. "I'll just have to trust my Doctor."
"Yes," he said, moving away again. "Always trust your Doctor. Good advice." She rolled on to her side as well and they regarded one another over a chasm of inches, each resting an arm under their heads, at the end of which they twined their fingers awkwardly together. "Though, you say get used to it. Don't you mean...get used to it again?"
"Whad'ya mean?" She furrowed her brow and her lips came in to just the slightest pout and it was completely disarming.
"I mean, didn't we...before?"
Her brow furrowed further. "Before what? And didn't we what?"
He felt like he was betraying his own self by not being able to name him. But always this fear that he'd burst the perfect bubble that he'd established, that speaking of the old days would be like an incantation, would make Rose no longer see him as more or less the same man.
"I'm sorry. It's silly. Just that, didn't you and I ever, before you came here I mean, didn't we ever do this?"
"What, snog? Doctor, you know we didn't." The dreaded shadow of doubt moved across her face. "You do know that, right?" She removed her hand from his and started to sit up.
"No, no, wait!" Panic. Starting at his toes and working its way upwards. "I have all the same memories, I do. But I just thought maybe he held some back. Or took some from me. Please." He sat up as well and tried to look as contrite and honest as possible, which was probably counter-productive.
"Holding memories back? Taking them? Could he have done that?"
"Yes. Though apparently...if what you say is true...." He raised his eyebrows, begging for understanding.
"Of course it's true. Why would you even think he'd do that?" She disengaged her eyes and looked off across the lawn in to the formal garden. "I don't think that's the sort of thing he'd do, do you? Would you do that?"
The Doctor shuddered and passed a hand over his eyes. "I just couldn't understand how it was that we traveled together for all that time, and I never.... We never.... Not like this. I thought I was just missing a memory. That's all." He took her hand where it lay on the blanket. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I've just always loved you so much, I can't understand how I never expressed it. You make me feel all...I dunno, like I've got this fire inside, and you're a...a bucket of water? That didn't really come out right."
She turned back around to him and was again smiling. "If it's the same as what I feel, I think it's more like a big pile of newspaper."
"Buckets of water and newspapers. I don't think we're going to make our first million writing greeting cards."
"Just as long as we keep the water away from the newspapers, we should be fine."
"I'm going to kiss you good and proper now, Rose Tyler." His voice lowered but there was still a great deal of mirth in his eyes. "You still feeling overwhelmed? Tell me now, or I won't be held responsible."
"Can we just see how it goes?"
He already had her hand to his lips, kissing the pads of each finger, waiting for her response. "I'll do my best. I'm not a complete novice, but, well, it's been a while. And never as a human, so who knows."
"There's such a thing as too much honesty, Doctor. A girl fancies a sense of mystery." She was going to go on, but he had laid back down and pulled her to him, letting her hover over him and set the pace. It was the only way, he knew, that this freight train could be stopped, if he let her take control. At least one of them had to have some, and it wasn't him. His last coherent thought for the next several minutes was that he was indeed a very, very clever man.
Her hair hanging down tickled his ears and a stray strand every now and again made its way to where their mouths were locked together so that she had to pull back for a moment and brush it away. "I can assure you, we never did this before," she said breathlessly during one of these interludes.
He looked at her in wonder that she was able to even form words. It was all he could do to just stare wide-eyed up at her, as she sat up further and undid several buttons of her shirt and slid it off her shoulders. "Nor this."
He blinked. She was so beautiful in the scant silvery light of the new moon, he thought he might cry, or laugh. "I....uh..."
"Lost for words? I think maybe we've gone too far then." She started to put her shirt back on, giving him a sultry eye the entire time.
"No!" was all he was able to squeak out at first. "I mean, I have words. I have not lost them. See? Words."
She looked at him out of the corners of her eyes, the edges of her mouth curled in to a wicked little smirk. "I'm unconvinced."
"Raxacoricofallapatorius!" he blurted out, and she undid one of the buttons she'd done back up.
"That's quite good. Still not convinced though."
"Jagrafess of the Holy Hadrojassic Maxarodenfoe. See? Not at all speechless. Now can you please...." He reached up and undid the last button with shaking hands and slid her light cotton shirt once again off of her shoulders. "Wow."
She rolled her eyes. "Men."
"That's me! All man. Totally human, and I must say...oh bugger it." He sat up, and in one not-entirely-unclumsy move wrapped his arms around her, brought her down on to the blanket and pressed himself up over her, his hands on either side of her bare shoulders. "That is so much better."
She made a little mew of approval and he could have said, "Who's speechless now?" but he didn't. The time for word games was over. He knelt at her side and began with her hips, placing one kiss on each hip bone, and savouring her taste of fresh milk and grass and salt, then moving up to her soft belly, rubbing his cheek gently there for a moment to enjoy the feel of such perfect rounded edges. From that perspective he could see that her breasts rose and fell rapidly with her breath, and that her nipples were already hard and waiting for him there.
Her hands threaded in his hair, and then moved down to tug at his shirt and pull it out of the waistband of his trousers. He tried to keep his mind off of what that might mean and concentrated on trailing kisses up her oblique muscles and around where her bra sat just below each breast. He wanted to feel how she moved and he placed a hand on her hip, enjoying how she writhed with each contact of his mouth to her skin.
It was a cool early summer evening and, passionate though they were, her skin was growing cold under him, so he raised himself up and plunged in to her warm mouth again, all of the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end at the contrast. She suckled on his bottom lip, and again he was powerless against it, so that when she opened his mouth more and let the tip of her tongue enter, he nearly lost the strength in his elbows and toppled on to her.
He felt the vibrations of her moan before he heard it, and the effect was to impel him to lift up a hand and grab one of hers where it had been balling up the blanket in a fist. He captured her wrist and held it to the ground over her head, still desperately plumbing the depths of her sweet mouth, bruising his lips against hers, trying hard not to smother her with his need.
With her free hand she traced ever widening circles at his hip, under his shirt which she'd managed to tug out and leave free. He pulled back, sat on his ankles and looked down at her, ashamed that the sight of her looking helpless was so arousing. "You're shaking," he said. "I'm sorry, we can stop." He removed her hand from where she had been running a finger under his waistband and held it to his face, feeling her quiver, steeling himself for having to separate from her again and to act like denying themselves these feelings made any sense at all.
"No." She took a shuddering breath in. "No, I'm just, well, overwhelmed. But that's good. I want to be overwhelmed. You're very...overwhelming."
He began placing kisses of gratitude around her wrist and then started to suck on one of her fingers so that she had to close her eyes and concentrate on speech. "But can we not, out here I mean. It's getting cold."
He did some quick calculations. If she thinks it's getting too cold, then that must mean she wants to take more clothing off, and if she wants to take more clothing off, then.... "Yes, yes indeed. Very cold out here. Freezing, in fact. Brrr. Shall we go back in?"
She sat up and put her shirt back on but didn't button it. "I have a better idea. Because really, that's my parents' house." She made a face. "They don't need to know everything we're getting up to."
"No indeed."
She stood and brushed some stray blades of grass off of her jeans, and he followed suit. "Grab the blanket," she instructed, and he obeyed. "Now," she held out a hand. "Run!" And they ran, the blanket flapping behind them, the ground slick and dewy, their breath beginning to sprout little puffs of steam.
They ran until they came to the carriage house on the far side of the property.
"Lord, I feel like I'm sixteen again," she laughed as she tried the door and found it to be unlocked.
"Is that a good thing?"
"I guess it's been a long time since you were sixteen." She wrinkled her forehead. "Or, wait, will it be sixteen years until you're sixteen? This is going to do my head in."
"Don't think about it." He followed her in to the dark building.
"One of us is robbing the cradle, but I don't know which one! At any rate, Deepa's the only staff that actually lives here. The groundskeeper goes home at night, but I know he's got a little set-up in here." She tentatively started climbing an old wooden set of stairs. "Watch your head."
At the top of the stairs they could just make out an easy chair, a small kitchenette area, and an old wrought-iron day bed. The sight of the bed sent a thrill through him and he was glad for the dark, as he wasn't sure he really wanted her to see what all of this protracted set up was doing to him.
She stood and surveyed, and he came up behind her, capturing her to him with the blanket held in both of his hands. She tilted her head back to rest on his chest and he pulled her even closer, feeling her lovely little bottom against him. He tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress a groan and she made a little "Oh!" sound. She turned around in her bonds to face him and brought a hand down to touch where his trousers had gotten quite tight. "I see," she said.
At her touch his knees buckled a little and he stumbled. "Sorry. All my blood seems to have moved elsewhere."
She moved back from him and he loosened the restraints to let her go, against his better judgement. "Doctor?" He raised an eyebrow. "Do shut up." She ducked from under the blanket and grasped it firmly, walking backwards towards the bed and leading him as if on a leash. She gave a tug on it and he let go so she could spread it over the day bed. In retrospect, the polite thing to do if one was going to shag on another man's bed.
They stood face-to-face and she took a long, resigned breath. Looking squarely in to his eyes, which were now black and full, she began to unbutton his shirt, still overly-starched from being new. He didn't really quite know what to do with his hands, and they seemed to have temporarily lost all feeling anyway, so he just stood still as she tackled the cuffs and then slid it off his shoulders and on to the floor. She slipped just a single finger under where the button of his trousers met his skin and pulled him close, bringing her mouth up to his ear.
"In the entire history of the human race, no one has ever figured out a way to make this part sexy, so please, just take your shoes off."
He swallowed. "I dunno, that was pretty sexy."
"Just do it," she said as she sat on the bed and unlaced her own trainers. "Socks too."
Standing in bare feet, shirtless, looking down at her, he tried to send a message across the Void, through the folds of time and space. I'm so sorry.
She shrugged her own shirt off and he moved to stand between her knees, enjoying the weight of each breast in his hands, her satin bra creating a magnificent slippery friction. He couldn't quite reach to kiss her without bending over and losing contact, so he just closed his eyes and continued to explore, moving his fingers over her nipples and hearing her gasp, touching the sides, pressing with his thumbs, testing what each new sensation would do to him, and to her. He could feel her hands, frustratingly through the fabric of his trousers, moving up the backs of his thighs, squeezing with periodic spasms of pleasure, and then grasping his hips and pulling him forward.
He toppled over her as she laid back and he only just caught himself with a hand held out by her ear. The feel of her bare skin against his, both of them with just a slight film of sweat from running through the clammy night air, it was unbearable and he sank his weight on to her and captured her bottom lip as she seemed to liked to do to him, and involuntarily ground his hips in to hers. When she reciprocated they both had to stop kissing to gasp and moan. They moved back further on to the bed as one, now neither of them needing to give any instructions to the other. Her bra was off, and in the dark her honey-gold skin and the pink pearls of her nipples went unappreciated for the moment as he took each in his mouth in turn and simultaneously struggled with the button and zip of her jeans.
She brought her hands down and much more cleverly began to undo his own various clasps and zips, in between each movement laying one finger where he ached, just making the ache worse each time. "Please..." was all he could get out but she just shushed him with a ragged breath.
She lifted her hips and he stood back up at the edge of the bed in order to remove both her jeans and her knickers, which he tossed blindly behind him, never taking his eyes off her where she lay, bright and almost glowing against the dark of the blanket. She just peered up at him through dark lashes and with even darker eyes, waiting. He took it in as long as he could. He knew enough to know that it would never be like this again. Time would always move forward for him now, there was no going back, no do-overs. He reached out and touched her knee, moved his eyes up and realized that it had never occurred to him, never once in all that time, that because she dyed her hair blond, the little curls that covered the mound of her sex would be dark. How could that have escaped his thoughts? What an utterly absurd man he had been.
He took a deep breath and let his trousers fall off his slender hips and hoped against hope that this golden goddess before him liked what she saw. When a smile crept across her face he almost ran naked from the room.
"I thought we bought you pants."
He raised both eyebrows and one corner of his mouth. "We did."
"You're not wearing any."
He looked down. "I'm not."
"Well, there's one mystery solved," she purred.
"You thought about my pants?" He began to trail his hand upwards from her knee, tracing arabesques on her thigh, trying to hold on and let her have her fun.
"Of course. Boxers or briefs? Apparently none of the above." She held her hand up and out to him. "Come here you lovely pantsless man."
He took her hand and fell lightly on top of her, lacing his fingers with hers and pinning their joined hands to the bed. He'd never before thought that he'd be the sort of man who so enjoyed holding his lover down in this way but it stirred something so primal, and a little frightening in him. She spread her legs and his knees found a spot between them, each pressing lightly against the inside of a thigh that was growing more slick with sweat and desire. She brought a hand forward to dance across his abdomen, and down to appraise his length. Just in the knick of time before that moved things forward far too quickly, he grabbed her other wrist and brought it over her head, where a single one of his large hands was easily able to hold both of hers there. He leaned over her and saw how wide her eyes were, how her tongue darted around the corners of her mouth, for want of his lips there.
There was so much of her to explore and he feared far too little time at present. Even just the rising smell of her arousal was urging him to move forward to completion. He let his free hand move down her jawline, over the racing pulse at her neck and over her breasts where it seemed to stray of it's own accord, palming them, running a finger around each nipple, teasing and enjoying the feel of her straining and thrashing under his control
"Please," she begged as she brought her bottom lip in to her mouth and bit it. "I can...just, please."
He had always been the sort of man who did not need to be told things twice, however. He let go of her hands and grasped her hips, pulling her to him and guiding their conjunction. He may have been a bit rough, looking back on it. She cried out and wrapped her legs around his waist while placing one hand on the wall behind her and forcing him deeper into her. They both took a moment then to stop and get used to the feeling.
Breathing heavily and regarding him through half-closed eyes, she brought a hand down to where they were joined, felt around his own dark curls and explored the mysteries of their union. He didn't move, couldn't move for fear of ending this pleasure before either of them were ready. Sitting back on his heels, he just gave up and let her do whatever she wanted, throwing his head back and punctuating the sounds of the crickets outside in the garden with his own low calls.
She circled the base of his erection, placing her palm firmly over her open centre. He couldn't be sure because it was really all a blur of spice and salt and silk, but he thought he felt her bring one of her own fingers to press against him where he lay throbbing inside of her. She moved against him, using her legs where she'd wrapped them around him to control the action, continuing to grasp him, then moving her hand up to find her own pleasure, then circling him again, as she slowly moved herself around him and then away again.
Even the awkward wet noises they were making were unspeakably erotic to his ears. The movements of her hand became less about him and more about her own needs and he looked down to see how she was pressing two fingers to herself as she lifted her hips up to pound in to him again. This was the last thing he truly remembered before she cried his name along with a bunch of nonsense and he gave in to the urge to lean forward and have every square inch of her under him, the edges of his vision glowing white as he took one last rough round of completely involuntary bucking thrusts and finally understood everything.
He would not be the first man to call an orgasm an epiphany, nor the last, but that would not lessen the vital importance of the knowledge he gained in that moment. It was the most terrifying and wonderful information he'd ever filed away in his magnificent mind. To be human, to fuck and to love and to desire, even though it all ends so soon. As he rolled off of her, giving them both some breathing room, his mind keened out over the Void, even though he knew he'd find only silence: This. This.
(To Chapter 7)
Characters: Alt!Ten/Rose, and everyone else I can cram in to the Alt!Verse, plus several OCs
Rating: Adult (note the change)
Spoilers: Everything
Disclaimer: It would be a very different, and possibly quite upsetting, world if I owned these characters. For the sake of the world's children, I don't.
Summary: When Rose and Alt!Ten return to Pete's World, after a much longer absence than planned, they find that things have begun to go a bit pear-shaped there. Can Our Heroes save the British Republic while at the same time working out their own Byzantinely complicated personal issues?
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26/ Epilogue | Whole story on Teaspoon
Rose laid on her bed, listening to the low rumble of men discussing what were undoubtedly very manly things in the drawing room, when Jackie knocked and entered. Rose rushed to hide something in her night stand drawer, almost knocking over the lamp in the process.
"I know what you're thinking." Jackie took the official position of all mother-daughter talks, sitting on the edge of Rose's bed.
"Yeah? And I know what you're thinking."
"Hey there, missy, no need to take that tone with me. I know what you're thinking, and what you're thinking is 'what if'. I'm right, I know I'm right. Your old mum is always right."
"What if what?" She rolled over on to her side and let her mother smooth her hair down.
"What if it's not what you think it's going to be. What if you were wrong. What if you fall out of love with him." There was no reply. "It's alright to think those things. Everyone does, even people who haven't traveled in time machines."
"Did you? With Pete?"
"Of course I did, sweetheart. And with your dad too, before you were born. I know things aren't quite as you expected, but even if they had been, you'd still be out there wondering about it all. It's just the way it works. It's how you know it's real."
Rose sniffled a little and the tip of her nose was getting red.
"And, since you know so much, what am I thinking, eh?"
This elicited a tiny little giggle from Rose, which then turned in to another sniffle. "I'm sure you all think that me and him are shagging each other rotten every time you turn around. But we're not, you know."
Jackie swatted Rose on the thigh. "Well for god's sake, Rose, what on earth are you waiting for, an invitation?"
"Mum!"
Jackie stood up again, satisfied that she'd solved one problem and created another, as it should be. "I don't know what's wrong with the youth today." She shook her head and left the room, sniggering to herself.
~o0o~
"Your stubble kind of hurts my face." Rose rolled on to her back and looked up at the stars, and at the absence of stars.
"It's because I'm so extremely macho," said the Doctor, very seriously.
She had to laugh at that. "I'll just have to toughen up and get used to it. Build a tolerance. That could be fun, yeah?"
"I could be persuaded to contribute to that endeavour." He rolled on to his side and nuzzled her neck. "Okay, Rose, here's your first dose," he murmured against her throat, as he planted the tiniest of kisses there.
She sighed and almost imperceptibly moved a little closer to him, pressed herself to his lips, just a bit. "I'll just have to trust my Doctor."
"Yes," he said, moving away again. "Always trust your Doctor. Good advice." She rolled on to her side as well and they regarded one another over a chasm of inches, each resting an arm under their heads, at the end of which they twined their fingers awkwardly together. "Though, you say get used to it. Don't you mean...get used to it again?"
"Whad'ya mean?" She furrowed her brow and her lips came in to just the slightest pout and it was completely disarming.
"I mean, didn't we...before?"
Her brow furrowed further. "Before what? And didn't we what?"
He felt like he was betraying his own self by not being able to name him. But always this fear that he'd burst the perfect bubble that he'd established, that speaking of the old days would be like an incantation, would make Rose no longer see him as more or less the same man.
"I'm sorry. It's silly. Just that, didn't you and I ever, before you came here I mean, didn't we ever do this?"
"What, snog? Doctor, you know we didn't." The dreaded shadow of doubt moved across her face. "You do know that, right?" She removed her hand from his and started to sit up.
"No, no, wait!" Panic. Starting at his toes and working its way upwards. "I have all the same memories, I do. But I just thought maybe he held some back. Or took some from me. Please." He sat up as well and tried to look as contrite and honest as possible, which was probably counter-productive.
"Holding memories back? Taking them? Could he have done that?"
"Yes. Though apparently...if what you say is true...." He raised his eyebrows, begging for understanding.
"Of course it's true. Why would you even think he'd do that?" She disengaged her eyes and looked off across the lawn in to the formal garden. "I don't think that's the sort of thing he'd do, do you? Would you do that?"
The Doctor shuddered and passed a hand over his eyes. "I just couldn't understand how it was that we traveled together for all that time, and I never.... We never.... Not like this. I thought I was just missing a memory. That's all." He took her hand where it lay on the blanket. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I've just always loved you so much, I can't understand how I never expressed it. You make me feel all...I dunno, like I've got this fire inside, and you're a...a bucket of water? That didn't really come out right."
She turned back around to him and was again smiling. "If it's the same as what I feel, I think it's more like a big pile of newspaper."
"Buckets of water and newspapers. I don't think we're going to make our first million writing greeting cards."
"Just as long as we keep the water away from the newspapers, we should be fine."
"I'm going to kiss you good and proper now, Rose Tyler." His voice lowered but there was still a great deal of mirth in his eyes. "You still feeling overwhelmed? Tell me now, or I won't be held responsible."
"Can we just see how it goes?"
He already had her hand to his lips, kissing the pads of each finger, waiting for her response. "I'll do my best. I'm not a complete novice, but, well, it's been a while. And never as a human, so who knows."
"There's such a thing as too much honesty, Doctor. A girl fancies a sense of mystery." She was going to go on, but he had laid back down and pulled her to him, letting her hover over him and set the pace. It was the only way, he knew, that this freight train could be stopped, if he let her take control. At least one of them had to have some, and it wasn't him. His last coherent thought for the next several minutes was that he was indeed a very, very clever man.
Her hair hanging down tickled his ears and a stray strand every now and again made its way to where their mouths were locked together so that she had to pull back for a moment and brush it away. "I can assure you, we never did this before," she said breathlessly during one of these interludes.
He looked at her in wonder that she was able to even form words. It was all he could do to just stare wide-eyed up at her, as she sat up further and undid several buttons of her shirt and slid it off her shoulders. "Nor this."
He blinked. She was so beautiful in the scant silvery light of the new moon, he thought he might cry, or laugh. "I....uh..."
"Lost for words? I think maybe we've gone too far then." She started to put her shirt back on, giving him a sultry eye the entire time.
"No!" was all he was able to squeak out at first. "I mean, I have words. I have not lost them. See? Words."
She looked at him out of the corners of her eyes, the edges of her mouth curled in to a wicked little smirk. "I'm unconvinced."
"Raxacoricofallapatorius!" he blurted out, and she undid one of the buttons she'd done back up.
"That's quite good. Still not convinced though."
"Jagrafess of the Holy Hadrojassic Maxarodenfoe. See? Not at all speechless. Now can you please...." He reached up and undid the last button with shaking hands and slid her light cotton shirt once again off of her shoulders. "Wow."
She rolled her eyes. "Men."
"That's me! All man. Totally human, and I must say...oh bugger it." He sat up, and in one not-entirely-unclumsy move wrapped his arms around her, brought her down on to the blanket and pressed himself up over her, his hands on either side of her bare shoulders. "That is so much better."
She made a little mew of approval and he could have said, "Who's speechless now?" but he didn't. The time for word games was over. He knelt at her side and began with her hips, placing one kiss on each hip bone, and savouring her taste of fresh milk and grass and salt, then moving up to her soft belly, rubbing his cheek gently there for a moment to enjoy the feel of such perfect rounded edges. From that perspective he could see that her breasts rose and fell rapidly with her breath, and that her nipples were already hard and waiting for him there.
Her hands threaded in his hair, and then moved down to tug at his shirt and pull it out of the waistband of his trousers. He tried to keep his mind off of what that might mean and concentrated on trailing kisses up her oblique muscles and around where her bra sat just below each breast. He wanted to feel how she moved and he placed a hand on her hip, enjoying how she writhed with each contact of his mouth to her skin.
It was a cool early summer evening and, passionate though they were, her skin was growing cold under him, so he raised himself up and plunged in to her warm mouth again, all of the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end at the contrast. She suckled on his bottom lip, and again he was powerless against it, so that when she opened his mouth more and let the tip of her tongue enter, he nearly lost the strength in his elbows and toppled on to her.
He felt the vibrations of her moan before he heard it, and the effect was to impel him to lift up a hand and grab one of hers where it had been balling up the blanket in a fist. He captured her wrist and held it to the ground over her head, still desperately plumbing the depths of her sweet mouth, bruising his lips against hers, trying hard not to smother her with his need.
With her free hand she traced ever widening circles at his hip, under his shirt which she'd managed to tug out and leave free. He pulled back, sat on his ankles and looked down at her, ashamed that the sight of her looking helpless was so arousing. "You're shaking," he said. "I'm sorry, we can stop." He removed her hand from where she had been running a finger under his waistband and held it to his face, feeling her quiver, steeling himself for having to separate from her again and to act like denying themselves these feelings made any sense at all.
"No." She took a shuddering breath in. "No, I'm just, well, overwhelmed. But that's good. I want to be overwhelmed. You're very...overwhelming."
He began placing kisses of gratitude around her wrist and then started to suck on one of her fingers so that she had to close her eyes and concentrate on speech. "But can we not, out here I mean. It's getting cold."
He did some quick calculations. If she thinks it's getting too cold, then that must mean she wants to take more clothing off, and if she wants to take more clothing off, then.... "Yes, yes indeed. Very cold out here. Freezing, in fact. Brrr. Shall we go back in?"
She sat up and put her shirt back on but didn't button it. "I have a better idea. Because really, that's my parents' house." She made a face. "They don't need to know everything we're getting up to."
"No indeed."
She stood and brushed some stray blades of grass off of her jeans, and he followed suit. "Grab the blanket," she instructed, and he obeyed. "Now," she held out a hand. "Run!" And they ran, the blanket flapping behind them, the ground slick and dewy, their breath beginning to sprout little puffs of steam.
They ran until they came to the carriage house on the far side of the property.
"Lord, I feel like I'm sixteen again," she laughed as she tried the door and found it to be unlocked.
"Is that a good thing?"
"I guess it's been a long time since you were sixteen." She wrinkled her forehead. "Or, wait, will it be sixteen years until you're sixteen? This is going to do my head in."
"Don't think about it." He followed her in to the dark building.
"One of us is robbing the cradle, but I don't know which one! At any rate, Deepa's the only staff that actually lives here. The groundskeeper goes home at night, but I know he's got a little set-up in here." She tentatively started climbing an old wooden set of stairs. "Watch your head."
At the top of the stairs they could just make out an easy chair, a small kitchenette area, and an old wrought-iron day bed. The sight of the bed sent a thrill through him and he was glad for the dark, as he wasn't sure he really wanted her to see what all of this protracted set up was doing to him.
She stood and surveyed, and he came up behind her, capturing her to him with the blanket held in both of his hands. She tilted her head back to rest on his chest and he pulled her even closer, feeling her lovely little bottom against him. He tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress a groan and she made a little "Oh!" sound. She turned around in her bonds to face him and brought a hand down to touch where his trousers had gotten quite tight. "I see," she said.
At her touch his knees buckled a little and he stumbled. "Sorry. All my blood seems to have moved elsewhere."
She moved back from him and he loosened the restraints to let her go, against his better judgement. "Doctor?" He raised an eyebrow. "Do shut up." She ducked from under the blanket and grasped it firmly, walking backwards towards the bed and leading him as if on a leash. She gave a tug on it and he let go so she could spread it over the day bed. In retrospect, the polite thing to do if one was going to shag on another man's bed.
They stood face-to-face and she took a long, resigned breath. Looking squarely in to his eyes, which were now black and full, she began to unbutton his shirt, still overly-starched from being new. He didn't really quite know what to do with his hands, and they seemed to have temporarily lost all feeling anyway, so he just stood still as she tackled the cuffs and then slid it off his shoulders and on to the floor. She slipped just a single finger under where the button of his trousers met his skin and pulled him close, bringing her mouth up to his ear.
"In the entire history of the human race, no one has ever figured out a way to make this part sexy, so please, just take your shoes off."
He swallowed. "I dunno, that was pretty sexy."
"Just do it," she said as she sat on the bed and unlaced her own trainers. "Socks too."
Standing in bare feet, shirtless, looking down at her, he tried to send a message across the Void, through the folds of time and space. I'm so sorry.
She shrugged her own shirt off and he moved to stand between her knees, enjoying the weight of each breast in his hands, her satin bra creating a magnificent slippery friction. He couldn't quite reach to kiss her without bending over and losing contact, so he just closed his eyes and continued to explore, moving his fingers over her nipples and hearing her gasp, touching the sides, pressing with his thumbs, testing what each new sensation would do to him, and to her. He could feel her hands, frustratingly through the fabric of his trousers, moving up the backs of his thighs, squeezing with periodic spasms of pleasure, and then grasping his hips and pulling him forward.
He toppled over her as she laid back and he only just caught himself with a hand held out by her ear. The feel of her bare skin against his, both of them with just a slight film of sweat from running through the clammy night air, it was unbearable and he sank his weight on to her and captured her bottom lip as she seemed to liked to do to him, and involuntarily ground his hips in to hers. When she reciprocated they both had to stop kissing to gasp and moan. They moved back further on to the bed as one, now neither of them needing to give any instructions to the other. Her bra was off, and in the dark her honey-gold skin and the pink pearls of her nipples went unappreciated for the moment as he took each in his mouth in turn and simultaneously struggled with the button and zip of her jeans.
She brought her hands down and much more cleverly began to undo his own various clasps and zips, in between each movement laying one finger where he ached, just making the ache worse each time. "Please..." was all he could get out but she just shushed him with a ragged breath.
She lifted her hips and he stood back up at the edge of the bed in order to remove both her jeans and her knickers, which he tossed blindly behind him, never taking his eyes off her where she lay, bright and almost glowing against the dark of the blanket. She just peered up at him through dark lashes and with even darker eyes, waiting. He took it in as long as he could. He knew enough to know that it would never be like this again. Time would always move forward for him now, there was no going back, no do-overs. He reached out and touched her knee, moved his eyes up and realized that it had never occurred to him, never once in all that time, that because she dyed her hair blond, the little curls that covered the mound of her sex would be dark. How could that have escaped his thoughts? What an utterly absurd man he had been.
He took a deep breath and let his trousers fall off his slender hips and hoped against hope that this golden goddess before him liked what she saw. When a smile crept across her face he almost ran naked from the room.
"I thought we bought you pants."
He raised both eyebrows and one corner of his mouth. "We did."
"You're not wearing any."
He looked down. "I'm not."
"Well, there's one mystery solved," she purred.
"You thought about my pants?" He began to trail his hand upwards from her knee, tracing arabesques on her thigh, trying to hold on and let her have her fun.
"Of course. Boxers or briefs? Apparently none of the above." She held her hand up and out to him. "Come here you lovely pantsless man."
He took her hand and fell lightly on top of her, lacing his fingers with hers and pinning their joined hands to the bed. He'd never before thought that he'd be the sort of man who so enjoyed holding his lover down in this way but it stirred something so primal, and a little frightening in him. She spread her legs and his knees found a spot between them, each pressing lightly against the inside of a thigh that was growing more slick with sweat and desire. She brought a hand forward to dance across his abdomen, and down to appraise his length. Just in the knick of time before that moved things forward far too quickly, he grabbed her other wrist and brought it over her head, where a single one of his large hands was easily able to hold both of hers there. He leaned over her and saw how wide her eyes were, how her tongue darted around the corners of her mouth, for want of his lips there.
There was so much of her to explore and he feared far too little time at present. Even just the rising smell of her arousal was urging him to move forward to completion. He let his free hand move down her jawline, over the racing pulse at her neck and over her breasts where it seemed to stray of it's own accord, palming them, running a finger around each nipple, teasing and enjoying the feel of her straining and thrashing under his control
"Please," she begged as she brought her bottom lip in to her mouth and bit it. "I can...just, please."
He had always been the sort of man who did not need to be told things twice, however. He let go of her hands and grasped her hips, pulling her to him and guiding their conjunction. He may have been a bit rough, looking back on it. She cried out and wrapped her legs around his waist while placing one hand on the wall behind her and forcing him deeper into her. They both took a moment then to stop and get used to the feeling.
Breathing heavily and regarding him through half-closed eyes, she brought a hand down to where they were joined, felt around his own dark curls and explored the mysteries of their union. He didn't move, couldn't move for fear of ending this pleasure before either of them were ready. Sitting back on his heels, he just gave up and let her do whatever she wanted, throwing his head back and punctuating the sounds of the crickets outside in the garden with his own low calls.
She circled the base of his erection, placing her palm firmly over her open centre. He couldn't be sure because it was really all a blur of spice and salt and silk, but he thought he felt her bring one of her own fingers to press against him where he lay throbbing inside of her. She moved against him, using her legs where she'd wrapped them around him to control the action, continuing to grasp him, then moving her hand up to find her own pleasure, then circling him again, as she slowly moved herself around him and then away again.
Even the awkward wet noises they were making were unspeakably erotic to his ears. The movements of her hand became less about him and more about her own needs and he looked down to see how she was pressing two fingers to herself as she lifted her hips up to pound in to him again. This was the last thing he truly remembered before she cried his name along with a bunch of nonsense and he gave in to the urge to lean forward and have every square inch of her under him, the edges of his vision glowing white as he took one last rough round of completely involuntary bucking thrusts and finally understood everything.
He would not be the first man to call an orgasm an epiphany, nor the last, but that would not lessen the vital importance of the knowledge he gained in that moment. It was the most terrifying and wonderful information he'd ever filed away in his magnificent mind. To be human, to fuck and to love and to desire, even though it all ends so soon. As he rolled off of her, giving them both some breathing room, his mind keened out over the Void, even though he knew he'd find only silence: This. This.
(To Chapter 7)