fic: Hide and Seek (Caught and Found), Chapter One
Hide and Seek (Caught and Found)
Chapter One
Rated P for Pr0n (Adult.)
Ten/Rose.
Something happens between Rose, the Doctor, and a tub of Nutella.
For psyfi_geekgirl and her fabulous birthday that was AGES ago. Cheers, love.
He spun, finger still half dipped in the Nutella tub. He didn't bother to look guilty. He was a man that apologized for no sweet spread, no delicious hazelnut goodness that smeared over his tongue and down his throat as his eyes rolled back and he'd regenerate if the universe would only let him put his finger in it again.
"Rose, you said you were going to bed, I thought--"
She backed him into the kitchen counter. Each step she would take forward, his long legs would double the distance backwards. Three strides, and his high backside had collided with the cruel squared edge of the countertop; he winced as silverware in the drawer shivered and chinked loudly in protest. She took the tub of Nutella from him and set it on the glittering aqua formica. She caught his hand by the wrist, hard, before he could quickly lick the remaining Nutella off his finger.
He wished his had his coat. He always felt safer in his coat.
There might have been more of the heavenly spread in his seventh left inside pocket, too.
Rose was terribly strong for her small frame. Or his wrists were rather delicate, which of course they weren't, manly wrists as they were.
She brought his hand closer and smelled his wrist, pressed her pretty little nose which was next to her succulent full lips that her certainly hadn't ever noticed right to his double pulse point and breathed. The eye contact was becoming overwhelming.
"Want to play a game, Doctor?"
Softly, her lips leaned in to touch the thin skin over his pulse. He might have stopped breathing, but it didn't stop smells from assailing his senses: Rose, arousal that was so strong he imagined it pooling inside her knickers (maybe she was wearing the little red ones?), hazelnuts and chocolate, countertop cleaner.
And then her wicked pink tongue lashed out, tasting the Nutella from his fingerprints.
He squeaked.
She was sucking his fingertip now, sliding her tongue around the edges of his nail like it was the last important thing she had to do before she died.
Maybe it was.
Her breath hovered over his finger, smears of the sugary treat left behind mixing with her saliva. He wanted to pop it in his mouth and see if she tasted the same on the inside.
"I."
Lick.
"Want."
Nibble.
"You."
And she pulled his entire finger into her mouth, laving the underside, wetly tickling the webbing, grazing her teeth along the digit as she pulled back, biting each knuckle.
Taking her spare hand, she brought it forward and clamped it over his mouth before he could say anything in return. Her grip was firm. Releasing his wrist with her other, she reached beyond him, deliciously pressing her curves up his long, hard, lean length. She scooped hazelnut spread onto her finger, and stepped back. Sucked a little off, and drug the remainder across his mouth, where his tongue, unbidden, snaked out to taste her.
"I asked you a question, Doctor. Do you want to play?"
He regarded her warily. Even without a god to make the rules, he was going to burn.
"Yes."
The word was only a breath, but it was there, falling between them to land on the floor and puddle at their feet.
He reached his arms forward and folded his fingers around the curves of her hips.
"Rose, you have to understand, we can't--"
She slid her hand up the back of his neck, tickling the little hairs along his spine. Threaded her fingers into his wild locks, and gripped, hard. His breath hissed out between his teeth; she stuck her tongue out between hers.
"I didn't say you could talk," she said, and her eyebrow raised and her tongue poked out and oh god he was going to combust on the spot. "Pick your game, Doc-tor," she purred, rolling his name out, lacing it through the space between them.
He lifted his finger, still clad in remnants of hazelnut goodness and positively slick and glistening with evidence of her mouth. Tracing it along her lower lip, he stared as the plump, sweet flesh moved with his finger. He dipped in, met her tongue; slid deeper to the second knuckle and waited, knowing she would suck. He leaned in, mouth a hair's breath from her's, neither breathing or moving or daring to shake this space.
"Hide and seek," he whispered, darkly, low, rough and full of promise. She bit his finger and his eyes rolled back.
"You have five minutes before you can leave this spot. Then come, Doctor." Her eyes flashed. "Understand?"
He nodded slowly, wetting his lips. His belly was aflood with fire.
"Say 'I understand, Rosie,'" she said, coy, smirking.
"I understand, Rosie." He closed his eyes and obeyed. "One. Two. Three. Four. Five--"
The air whooshed, and she was gone, leaving behind a cold space that would have chilled his hearts if not for the pressure in his trousers and the lingering heat of her tongue, the flavor of hazelnut and sex that he couldn't drink down fast enough.
This was so against the rules. All of them.
Good thing it was her set of rules, then.
Twenty-five. Twenty-six.
The Doctor waited.
His cock twitched, and without thought his hand went to it, stroking long and hard through the fabric of the trousers. He hissed and snatched his hand away, only to have it return moments later. Alone in the galley, the Doctor stroked himelf to madness and counted.
One hundred seventy five. One hundred seventy six. One hundred--
He bit back a moan imagining her splayed all over the TARDIS. He had no idea where he would start, or if he'd live to find her before he combusted. He could still taste her, smell her. If he were less dizzy, he could probably follow her scent directly to her hiding place.
That's it. Got to clear his head, that's all. Then he can find her.
Two hundred. Inhale. A hundred more to go. He could come all over his own hand in the last seconds until his time limit, make her lick his still hot come from his fingers and then taste it from her tongue, use it to slick her up before he slid his fingers inside her hard enough she'd squeal. Three at a time, thrusting so roughly she could only be wide-legged and helpless, his name falling from her lips, calling him her god.
Bugger.
The Doctor took off at a run, nostrils flaring, ninety seven seconds early.
Quietly, pulled taut, he hunted.
Chapter One
Rated P for Pr0n (Adult.)
Ten/Rose.
Something happens between Rose, the Doctor, and a tub of Nutella.
For psyfi_geekgirl and her fabulous birthday that was AGES ago. Cheers, love.
He spun, finger still half dipped in the Nutella tub. He didn't bother to look guilty. He was a man that apologized for no sweet spread, no delicious hazelnut goodness that smeared over his tongue and down his throat as his eyes rolled back and he'd regenerate if the universe would only let him put his finger in it again.
"Rose, you said you were going to bed, I thought--"
She backed him into the kitchen counter. Each step she would take forward, his long legs would double the distance backwards. Three strides, and his high backside had collided with the cruel squared edge of the countertop; he winced as silverware in the drawer shivered and chinked loudly in protest. She took the tub of Nutella from him and set it on the glittering aqua formica. She caught his hand by the wrist, hard, before he could quickly lick the remaining Nutella off his finger.
He wished his had his coat. He always felt safer in his coat.
There might have been more of the heavenly spread in his seventh left inside pocket, too.
Rose was terribly strong for her small frame. Or his wrists were rather delicate, which of course they weren't, manly wrists as they were.
She brought his hand closer and smelled his wrist, pressed her pretty little nose which was next to her succulent full lips that her certainly hadn't ever noticed right to his double pulse point and breathed. The eye contact was becoming overwhelming.
"Want to play a game, Doctor?"
Softly, her lips leaned in to touch the thin skin over his pulse. He might have stopped breathing, but it didn't stop smells from assailing his senses: Rose, arousal that was so strong he imagined it pooling inside her knickers (maybe she was wearing the little red ones?), hazelnuts and chocolate, countertop cleaner.
And then her wicked pink tongue lashed out, tasting the Nutella from his fingerprints.
He squeaked.
She was sucking his fingertip now, sliding her tongue around the edges of his nail like it was the last important thing she had to do before she died.
Maybe it was.
Her breath hovered over his finger, smears of the sugary treat left behind mixing with her saliva. He wanted to pop it in his mouth and see if she tasted the same on the inside.
"I."
Lick.
"Want."
Nibble.
"You."
And she pulled his entire finger into her mouth, laving the underside, wetly tickling the webbing, grazing her teeth along the digit as she pulled back, biting each knuckle.
Taking her spare hand, she brought it forward and clamped it over his mouth before he could say anything in return. Her grip was firm. Releasing his wrist with her other, she reached beyond him, deliciously pressing her curves up his long, hard, lean length. She scooped hazelnut spread onto her finger, and stepped back. Sucked a little off, and drug the remainder across his mouth, where his tongue, unbidden, snaked out to taste her.
"I asked you a question, Doctor. Do you want to play?"
He regarded her warily. Even without a god to make the rules, he was going to burn.
"Yes."
The word was only a breath, but it was there, falling between them to land on the floor and puddle at their feet.
He reached his arms forward and folded his fingers around the curves of her hips.
"Rose, you have to understand, we can't--"
She slid her hand up the back of his neck, tickling the little hairs along his spine. Threaded her fingers into his wild locks, and gripped, hard. His breath hissed out between his teeth; she stuck her tongue out between hers.
"I didn't say you could talk," she said, and her eyebrow raised and her tongue poked out and oh god he was going to combust on the spot. "Pick your game, Doc-tor," she purred, rolling his name out, lacing it through the space between them.
He lifted his finger, still clad in remnants of hazelnut goodness and positively slick and glistening with evidence of her mouth. Tracing it along her lower lip, he stared as the plump, sweet flesh moved with his finger. He dipped in, met her tongue; slid deeper to the second knuckle and waited, knowing she would suck. He leaned in, mouth a hair's breath from her's, neither breathing or moving or daring to shake this space.
"Hide and seek," he whispered, darkly, low, rough and full of promise. She bit his finger and his eyes rolled back.
"You have five minutes before you can leave this spot. Then come, Doctor." Her eyes flashed. "Understand?"
He nodded slowly, wetting his lips. His belly was aflood with fire.
"Say 'I understand, Rosie,'" she said, coy, smirking.
"I understand, Rosie." He closed his eyes and obeyed. "One. Two. Three. Four. Five--"
The air whooshed, and she was gone, leaving behind a cold space that would have chilled his hearts if not for the pressure in his trousers and the lingering heat of her tongue, the flavor of hazelnut and sex that he couldn't drink down fast enough.
This was so against the rules. All of them.
Good thing it was her set of rules, then.
Twenty-five. Twenty-six.
The Doctor waited.
His cock twitched, and without thought his hand went to it, stroking long and hard through the fabric of the trousers. He hissed and snatched his hand away, only to have it return moments later. Alone in the galley, the Doctor stroked himelf to madness and counted.
One hundred seventy five. One hundred seventy six. One hundred--
He bit back a moan imagining her splayed all over the TARDIS. He had no idea where he would start, or if he'd live to find her before he combusted. He could still taste her, smell her. If he were less dizzy, he could probably follow her scent directly to her hiding place.
That's it. Got to clear his head, that's all. Then he can find her.
Two hundred. Inhale. A hundred more to go. He could come all over his own hand in the last seconds until his time limit, make her lick his still hot come from his fingers and then taste it from her tongue, use it to slick her up before he slid his fingers inside her hard enough she'd squeal. Three at a time, thrusting so roughly she could only be wide-legged and helpless, his name falling from her lips, calling him her god.
Bugger.
The Doctor took off at a run, nostrils flaring, ninety seven seconds early.
Quietly, pulled taut, he hunted.