Doctor Who Research Project Fanfic Contest
Author: bytheseaside
Title: Want
Challenge Element: Oral
Rating: MA
A/N: Yeah, this turned out to be so very, very wordy. Sorry about that.
Spoilers - Only for the dress that Rose wears in The Unquiet Dead.
Keywords - Oral. PWP. 9th Doctor.
Summary - The Doctor helps Rose get out of her dress.
Disclaimer - Rose and the Doctor don’t belong to me. I’m just, ahem, playing with them for a bit. I’ll put them back in [nearly] as good a condition as I found them.
Want
Rose twisted. Rose strained. Rose stretched. Rose practically curled herself into a little ball, but she couldn’t quite reach the fastenings on her dress. How she’d got the blasted thing on was beyond her. And trying to think back to doing the dress up was difficult, because she kept getting stuck on the memory of the look in the Doctor’s eyes when he’d first seen her in it. There’s been some real heat in that gaze, and though he’d tried to qualify his initial comment, she knew it had been genuine.
What that meant, Rose had no real idea. Relationships were not a strong point for Rose, not romantic ones at any rate, or even purely sexual ones. Jimmy Stones had come about after one drunken night - after which she had convinced herself she was in love (had to be, hadn’t she?), and when that ended in tears she fell straight back into Mickey’s open arms without much thought at all. That was her total experience, and while it had never really bothered her before, now that she had (possibly) attracted the attention of the Doctor, she was finding it woefully inadequate to work out what exactly he wanted from her (or what she wanted from him, for that matter).
Yes, she was attracted to him. He was good looking, desirable - sexy, even. In the whirlwind he’d made of the last few days of her life, she’d found herself more or less completely swept off her feet. Everything had moved so fast - not to mention the fact that she’d nearly died on several occasions - that she could barely keep everything straight in her mind. Part of her was still convinced that this was a dream, or a hallucination of some sort. She’d pinched herself earlier, before getting dressed, when she’d hopped out of a shower, she’d found in a bathroom adjacent to the (impossibly large) wardrobe, but after she’d rubbed at the forming bruise on her inner arm she looked around to find herself still standing half-naked in the middle of the floor.
On the moments when they were still, and not out there running for their lives, or trying to dodge homicidal aliens, Rose’s attention turned, quite naturally to the man who she was travelling with - the man, who she’d decided to walk out of her old life for without so much as a backwards glance - only to find his attention seemed to focussed squarely on her. The first time it had been unnerving, the second time caused a shiver to run up her spine, and on the third time her knees had gone weak.
She’d always been curious, something that had got her in trouble more than once. Now her curiosity had been peaked by something completely new - the Doctor. What exactly went on behind those eyes of his? She knew there’d been a war, that he was the last of his kind (and Rose couldn’t even begin to imagine pain like that), so he was bound to have some sort of scars; mental and emotional wounds that might have only just started to cover over. There was a rawness to him, hard edges and sharp movements. He seemed to like her, but then he lashed out at her as often as not, pushing her away. Rose knew that it was (probably) a reaction to the grief, but it was hard to remember that when he snapped at her, or belittled her species as a whole. Never one to allow anyone to talk down to her, she snapped back, only to be met by high walls and barbed wire in his eyes.
When they weren’t fighting, there was that maniac glee which seemed to surround him, a joy that was almost as vicious as the pain. Joy that caught her up and left her gasping for breath. She’d only known him days, but in times like that it felt as if she’d always known him. They moved so fast - speeding through time - that she almost forgot to think, and lived for the moment for the second, between one heartbeat and the next, never considering what might happen a minute from now, an hour, a day. At times like that she didn’t think, didn’t need to think. And he seemed happy enough with that.
Other times, when they had to stop, she was mostly too exhausted to think about the whole thing clearly. In the few brief moments that she had stopped to think about what she was doing, she’d hadn’t come to any great earthshaking conclusions (other than, yes, she did still want to stay on board). There was still a good deal of uncertainty about what she was actually doing on board the TARDIS, and why the Doctor had asked her in the first place. Rose didn’t quite know what to make of his request and her subsequent agreement, as there appeared to be little reason on either side.
Would it be any easier to figure out if he were human? Would what he wanted with her be anymore obvious? Or would he be just as mysterious? Rose knew people, had always liked people, liked being around people, but this was different. He was an alien, an alien from a place that no longer existed, a place she knew nothing about. Sure, he looked like a normal man. There was nothing there that seemed to indicate otherwise; his skin was a bit cool, but other than that…nothing. Apart from the extreme emotions he seemed to hop backwards and forwards between, there was little that made him stand out from anyone she had ever known.
Only in those quiet moments with him, did she get a glimmering of what might lay beneath the exterior. His focus was absolute. He put his whole mind into reflection, into thinking about what he needed to do. And Rose suspected that somewhere in his head, at some point, she was the centre of his attention as he tried to figure her out, tried to see inside her, it almost felt like. Was he telepathic? Could he read minds? Rose hoped not because when he looked at her closely, he might get a bit of a shock if he read her mind too closely, or at all - those eyes were beginning to heat her up, make her feel flustered and just a little bit horny.
Maybe that was what he wanted. He didn’t seem to have any girlfriend or partner, or anything that resembled the words that Jabe had used to try and define Rose, at least not that Rose would tell. But she guessed he could have one stashed somewhere. Men did that, Rose had seen plenty of times, had friends who’d been on either end of that arrangement. It never ended well, but it still happened a lot: blokes keeping two girls - one at home in the kitchen or with the kids, the other round about for a quick go when he got bored. Rose had sworn she’d never let a guy put her in that position, but then some of those girls hadn’t exactly known what was going on at the time.
Of course, no one said there was another girl, so maybe she was it. Maybe he picked her up because he was lonely and wanted a bit of company, someone to help keep his bed warm. At this stage, Rose didn’t think she’d turn him down. He hadn’t made any move on her, hadn’t given her the impression that that was what he was after, and yet he had: those looks hadn’t meant nothing, now, had they?
That still left Rose feeling unsure, because, no, he hadn’t made a move, and those gazes might be smouldering, but they didn’t give her any real clues about how to act. His reaction to when she walked out wearing the dress had been genuine - he’d liked what he saw. So, what did that mean, did he want more? And what did more entail? He said he wasn’t human, which was fine, because he mostly looked human, but did he have the same parts as a human - did they work the same way? What if it were completely different for him? What if for him, sex involved something she couldn’t do, or something that just wasn’t any good for her? But if that were the case, would he look at her like that - surely he knew whether or not they could…Rose’s thoughts were getting more and more curled up in her head as she tried to puzzle through exactly what was going on, and she wished that Shareen were here to give her some advice. Well, with her new, improved mobile maybe she could call her friend and ask, except it would involve some very tricky questions and Rose didn’t even know how to begin to side step those.
Right now, she needed to get undressed. The Doctor had said he’d make them some tea and then she could get some sleep and tomorrow they’d go back to London so she could see her mum and explain that Rose was going travelling for a while (and that was not going to go over well, Rose could already hear the questions about why she was travelling with a man who must be at least twice her age), to pick up some clean clothes and various things, say a proper goodbye to Mickey (yes, he was a bit of an idiot, but he didn’t quite deserve to have his girlfriend run off without so much of an as you please), little bits and pieces that kept occurring her when she remembered to stop and breathe.
However, try as she might, her fingers couldn’t quite reach the top of her corset top. Somehow she’d managed to dress herself earlier, but it wasn’t working now. Resigned, she made to go and find the Doctor to see if he could unbutton the top for her. Deep down there was a part of her that didn’t want to ask him, because then he’d have his fingers on her back, and she didn’t want to think about what that was going to do to her innards. Deep down there was also a part that desperately wanted to feel those fingers on her back, wanted to feel them sliding down her spine, slipping under the fabric around to the front where she wasn’t wearing a bra…but she stopped her thoughts because they were dangerous. While she might really be starting to think she wanted him, she didn’t yet know if he wanted her; fantasies were pointless if they were going to go nowhere. At the same time if fantasies were all she was going to have, well she better make the most of it.
Turning to the door, she found him standing in it, watching her. Heat rushed to her cheeks, surprise mingling with embarrassment, and once again she hoped her couldn’t read minds, because if he could he was going to get quite a shock. The blood in her face heated further to match her thoughts, and she wondered if it were possible to boil over from just a look. Certainly he must be alien, because no other man had made her feel this way, not this quickly, not without ever doing anything to enhance those fantasies.
But his face was impassive, eyes the same unreadable intenseness that she was quickly becoming accustomed with. She was quite sure he didn’t look at Gwyneth like that. Maybe Jabe, but she wasn’t sure about that one. Most of the time he’d spent with the tree-woman had been away from Rose. At the time Rose had assumed that they were going off to find themselves a nice quiet corner, but she’d quickly learned that they’d had much bigger things on their minds. She knew better now, but it didn’t mean she knew more, or what he wanted.
Instead of fading away, the heat grew, flaring through parts of her that she had becoming increasingly used to through these past few days. Did he have any concept of how he made her feel? Did he know that she was moments away from having her jaw hang down around her knees while she drooled on the floor? He lifted an eyebrow at her, and that was enough.
Rose drew in a shaky breath, hoping he didn’t hear how affected she was, hoping he didn’t notice how she was almost trembling with desire. How could she ask him to undo her dress when if he came any closer she might just jump on him and push him to the floor, strip his pants and ride him until they both screamed.
That thought made her giggle mentally. Where did she get off acting like she was a heroine in a very trashy romance novel? All heaving breasts and entangled limbs? Yes, she enjoyed sex (even if she’d only been with two men before), but she’d never felt it take over like this. Ruthlessly she suppressed the desire, and then did so again when she saw he’d take a few steps into the room without her noticing. He might not look it, but he was incredibly graceful when he wanted to be, moving as smoothly as flowing water.
“Um,” she said, “can you help me get this undone - I can’t reach.” Her voice was low and had taken on a slightly husky tone, alarming her.
The Doctor didn’t answer, only kept moving forward using those graceful, graceful strides, uncomfortably reminding Rose of something stalking its prey. A great cat moving soundlessly through the grass plains, the creature of its attention never realising it was there until it was far, far too late. Now there was a spark of fear mingling with her desire. She still didn’t know what he wanted from her, and the look in his eyes was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Not only were knickers damp, but she could feel every hair on her body standing on end as chills ran along her arms. What had she gotten herself into?
Mammoth effort prevented Rose from reacting to the energy that was singing between her and the Doctor, the energy that was practically a living force all of it’s own. Instead she started to turn around so he could reach the buttons on her dress easily. Hands on her shoulders prevented her from completely that movement and she looked up to find the Doctor standing too close (far, far too close - but anywhere in the same room was too close), looking down at her with those same unreadable eyes, lips starting curve into what could only be consider a possessive smile.
His arms went around her, cool fingers caressing the skin between her should blades, before sliding to the top of her dress and the first button. Rose couldn’t stop the way her eyes drifted closed at the first touch, and then as he moved down lower she felt him lean in closer until the upper half of their bodies were brushing against each other, and his breath was on her cheeks and ear - each little puff, combined with the way the tips of her fingers skimmed against her back, made more shivers run through her, straight to between her legs to the gathering warmth and moisture there.
Rose’s eyes opened to find herself on level with his black clad shoulder, with the collar of the jacket he’d refused to remove earlier when she’d asked him if he were getting changed. His neck was tantalisingly close and she wondered what he would do if she tilted her head and nibbled on his neck, kissing, licking, biting. She wondered what he would taste like and if she would enjoy the flavour, if it would be enough to satisfy the desire which was keeping her blood at boiling point.
Without warning, the Doctor straightened, trailing icy heat up her spine with one finger. His hands lingered again at the top of the dress, while his eyes looked down at her, into her, and she wondered how she was supposed to keep from moaning, how she was supposed to keep from begging him to kiss her. But she found she could not utter a word, could not make a sound, and whether or not he was as trapped under the spell as her, he didn’t say anything either.
The dress was pulled down so that it slid over her body and down to the floor. Rose belatedly remembered she had no bra on, that such a thing was impractical for wearing the dress. But by then she was standing bare in front of the Doctor, only a pair of damp underwear keep the last of her modesty safe. A pair of underwear that she wanted him to remove. To remove, or slide his fingers underneath to find her clit. He did neither, instead his hands settled on her waist, fingers still so icy cold, rubbing at her sides, lightly tracing circles with his thumbs.
The Doctor bent his head down, and Rose thought he was going to kiss her, but his lips dodged hers completely to settle on her jaw and press feather-light there. She rose up and guided her chin further away from him, as he laid kisses on her neck, soft dry kisses that tickled, and made her arms reach up, to lock his head in place. But he ignored her attempt at direction and moved lower, down to her collar bone, where his mouth opened, and his tongue swept along the bone, changing her grip from one of direction to one for support.
When he stepped back, straightening again, she couldn’t quite contain the groan that slipped up her throat and through her slightly parted lips. The sound drew his eyes back to hers reminding her again of his intensity, but then he was looking down again, not paying any attention her face, and certainly not to her lips, where she was desperate for him to kiss her. Unable to help herself, she followed the path of his eyes downward to where they rested on her breasts, moments later his fingers settled there, and she could no longer even try to hide the moan as he traced one finger tip in a spiral around her breast to the areola, but not the nipple. He copied the move on the other breast, before tracing around both breasts, and cupping them, sliding his hands - finally, at last, at last - over the nipple, catching the hardened tip against his palms. Oh, that felt good. So very, very good.
His hands then travelled down, over her, sides, around the slight curve of her belly, circling her belly button, before moving back to her waist and settling there. By now her nerve-endings were sensitive to his touch, and tingling heat seemed to spread from where his still cool skin touched hers. He was still dressed, not stitch of clothing was out of place and Rose was beginning to wonder when he was going to remove it, or even if he was going to remove it. She wanted to ask him, but somehow couldn’t bring herself to form the words, couldn’t bring herself to ask him. His silence had invaded her and she couldn’t speak, the only noises came from the soft moans he was now drawing from her.
Never in her life had anyone explored her body like this. He seemed intent on running his hands over every inch of her, lightly, tantalisingly. His skin was cool and smooth, but she knew that already, just like she knew his grip was usually so strong and steady, firm without being hard. This was completely different. This wasn’t him holding her hand as they ran into danger; this was him touching body more intimately than either of her last two lovers had bothered to. And unlike her last two lovers it made heat pool in her belly and between her legs. It made her understand why so many people swore the build up could be as good as the final explosion.
Rose’s legs were weak, her knees were practically wobbling. A part of her was screaming ‘just shag me already!’ but another part of her never wanted this to end, never wanted his cool fingers to stop their mapping of her body. When he reached the top of her knickers, she closed her eyes and let her head tilt back. There was a slight rush of air, and she felt her underwear tugged down sharply, when she looked back at him, she was surprised to find him kneeling in front of her, his face on level with her belly button. Like his finger tips earlier, he traced the outside of the indent with his tongue, before dipping inside, all warm dampness.
Until now, his ministrations had only added to the slowly rising heat that was tingling through her, but the suddenness of his tongue, made her want him to do that to her lower, to thrust into her most intimate places. She’d never had anyone down there like that, had often wondered but had never been able to convince either Mickey or Jimmy to go down on her - not in the way she’s wanted. Mickey had tried once, but neither of them had enjoyed the experience, and had felt no compulsion to repeat it at any time. She had the sneaking suspicion that the Doctor could do this to her and she most certainly would enjoy it.
The Doctor, despite her rising need, didn’t rush himself or slow down, just kept doing exactly what he was doing - which was turning into slow, delicious torture. Hands were sliding over her buttocks, taking a moment cup them. And when she looked down at his face, she found his eyes on her, looking up as his hands moved lower, down her legs to her knees. When he touched the skin there, her head went back again, this time with her eyes wide open and a cry on her lips. He lingered there, much as he had over her breasts, tracing patterns only he knew. Then one hand slid back to her waist while the other bent her knee, and she quickly untangled her foot from her underwear, hooking her leg over his shoulder.
Rose wavered, suddenly finding balance completely thrown, and flailed her hands behind her until she found a wall or some shelves to grip on to. For a moment he hovered over her opening, breath tingling the skin, making her moan in want. His tongue flicked out and ran up the slit, tasting her. He pulled back slightly, seeming to consider her taste, before he moved forward and licked her inner thighs this time. Rose had to admit he was thorough, cleaning off every last inch of dampness, leaving it with a new tingling damp that she could feel seep through her skin.
Before she knew what was happening, his tongue had dipped inside and had run over the small mound there, and she cried out, her fingers clenching against whatever was behind her. She could feel his breath warm on the sensitive skin, and the way his skin brushed against her legs, and his nose ticked the top of her slit, but most all she could feel the gentle lapping against her clit. Too gentle, she wanted to thrust closer to make him press harder, because right now this wasn’t enough. But she couldn’t, between his hand firmly on one hip, and the other balancing her left leg, movement was restricted, and she was trapped at moving at the pace he chose.
Gradually, though, the stroke of his tongue became firmer and firmer, sending more and more heat waves tingling through her, making her body shake. It felt good, so very, very good, but not good enough, she wanted to climax, wanted to feel that burst shoot through her and know the Doctor had caused it, but she wasn’t close yet, and she wanted to be.
Focussing on the feeling of the roughness of his tongue on her clit, not just stroking, but sliding, using different rhythms, twisting and sucking - oh god, that sucking was good. She was moaning almost constantly now, unable to help herself, unable to keep quiet. All this kept her from noticing when his hand slid around from her left leg, under and up. But she certainly noticed when he slid first one finger and then two into her, proving just how good he was at multi-tasking by building up a rhythm that was different from the one his tongue used.
“Oh my god!” her whole body jerked, and later she would be certain she kicked the Doctor as his questing fingers ran over a spot inside of her that she wasn’t even aware existed. He pressed down on it, sliding finger tips over it again and again. What is tongue was doing to her clit suddenly became second to what his fingers were doing, where they were touching - she felt sure she was going to burst open and spill pure energy out.
And then with a shout, she was. Her whole body reached a crescendo, and she was tumbling over the top and down the edge to reach rock bottom, where she came to, still standing on shaking knees, body trembling with the after effects of her orgasm.
Almost calmly, he slid his finger from her, and guided her foot back to the ground, moving back, and standing smoothly. Unstable on her own feet, she wobbled, and he caught her, one hand sticky and damp on her waist, the other under her arm, the heel of a palm against her breast. Still mesmerised, she looked up at him, taking in the depths of his deep gaze. Without thinking, Rose lifted one hand away from the shelving behind her, feeling it ache as it unclenched, and brought it up to the back of the Doctor’s neck, guiding his face down to hers and kissed him deeply.
Her first impression was that he tasted of her, but as his tongue delved deeper into her mouth, searching out nerve endings, as she explored him, other things assaulted her, the way his lips and tongue were warmer than the rest of his body, his sharp, spiciness - he tasted the way he smelled. Naturally, her arms wrapped around his neck, while his fingers tightened on her waist, she tried to press their bodies closer, but he kept them apart - touching her in the least amount of places.
The Doctor broke the kiss, turning away from her, standing out of her grip completely and she moaned at the loss. Rose wanted to reach out to him, but found herself unable to move closer, or speak as he left her standing there naked in the middle of the wardrobe floor.
A few minutes later, as she gathered her clothes together, pulling on clean jeans and a tee-shirt, she realised that despite the intensity of the experience, she still had no idea what the Doctor really wanted from her. Deciding that as he seemed unlikely to throw her out in the next little while, she’d have plenty of time to figure it out, so next on her agenda was that cup of tea she’d been promised.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Title: Want
Challenge Element: Oral
Rating: MA
A/N: Yeah, this turned out to be so very, very wordy. Sorry about that.
Spoilers - Only for the dress that Rose wears in The Unquiet Dead.
Keywords - Oral. PWP. 9th Doctor.
Summary - The Doctor helps Rose get out of her dress.
Disclaimer - Rose and the Doctor don’t belong to me. I’m just, ahem, playing with them for a bit. I’ll put them back in [nearly] as good a condition as I found them.
Want
Rose twisted. Rose strained. Rose stretched. Rose practically curled herself into a little ball, but she couldn’t quite reach the fastenings on her dress. How she’d got the blasted thing on was beyond her. And trying to think back to doing the dress up was difficult, because she kept getting stuck on the memory of the look in the Doctor’s eyes when he’d first seen her in it. There’s been some real heat in that gaze, and though he’d tried to qualify his initial comment, she knew it had been genuine.
What that meant, Rose had no real idea. Relationships were not a strong point for Rose, not romantic ones at any rate, or even purely sexual ones. Jimmy Stones had come about after one drunken night - after which she had convinced herself she was in love (had to be, hadn’t she?), and when that ended in tears she fell straight back into Mickey’s open arms without much thought at all. That was her total experience, and while it had never really bothered her before, now that she had (possibly) attracted the attention of the Doctor, she was finding it woefully inadequate to work out what exactly he wanted from her (or what she wanted from him, for that matter).
Yes, she was attracted to him. He was good looking, desirable - sexy, even. In the whirlwind he’d made of the last few days of her life, she’d found herself more or less completely swept off her feet. Everything had moved so fast - not to mention the fact that she’d nearly died on several occasions - that she could barely keep everything straight in her mind. Part of her was still convinced that this was a dream, or a hallucination of some sort. She’d pinched herself earlier, before getting dressed, when she’d hopped out of a shower, she’d found in a bathroom adjacent to the (impossibly large) wardrobe, but after she’d rubbed at the forming bruise on her inner arm she looked around to find herself still standing half-naked in the middle of the floor.
On the moments when they were still, and not out there running for their lives, or trying to dodge homicidal aliens, Rose’s attention turned, quite naturally to the man who she was travelling with - the man, who she’d decided to walk out of her old life for without so much as a backwards glance - only to find his attention seemed to focussed squarely on her. The first time it had been unnerving, the second time caused a shiver to run up her spine, and on the third time her knees had gone weak.
She’d always been curious, something that had got her in trouble more than once. Now her curiosity had been peaked by something completely new - the Doctor. What exactly went on behind those eyes of his? She knew there’d been a war, that he was the last of his kind (and Rose couldn’t even begin to imagine pain like that), so he was bound to have some sort of scars; mental and emotional wounds that might have only just started to cover over. There was a rawness to him, hard edges and sharp movements. He seemed to like her, but then he lashed out at her as often as not, pushing her away. Rose knew that it was (probably) a reaction to the grief, but it was hard to remember that when he snapped at her, or belittled her species as a whole. Never one to allow anyone to talk down to her, she snapped back, only to be met by high walls and barbed wire in his eyes.
When they weren’t fighting, there was that maniac glee which seemed to surround him, a joy that was almost as vicious as the pain. Joy that caught her up and left her gasping for breath. She’d only known him days, but in times like that it felt as if she’d always known him. They moved so fast - speeding through time - that she almost forgot to think, and lived for the moment for the second, between one heartbeat and the next, never considering what might happen a minute from now, an hour, a day. At times like that she didn’t think, didn’t need to think. And he seemed happy enough with that.
Other times, when they had to stop, she was mostly too exhausted to think about the whole thing clearly. In the few brief moments that she had stopped to think about what she was doing, she’d hadn’t come to any great earthshaking conclusions (other than, yes, she did still want to stay on board). There was still a good deal of uncertainty about what she was actually doing on board the TARDIS, and why the Doctor had asked her in the first place. Rose didn’t quite know what to make of his request and her subsequent agreement, as there appeared to be little reason on either side.
Would it be any easier to figure out if he were human? Would what he wanted with her be anymore obvious? Or would he be just as mysterious? Rose knew people, had always liked people, liked being around people, but this was different. He was an alien, an alien from a place that no longer existed, a place she knew nothing about. Sure, he looked like a normal man. There was nothing there that seemed to indicate otherwise; his skin was a bit cool, but other than that…nothing. Apart from the extreme emotions he seemed to hop backwards and forwards between, there was little that made him stand out from anyone she had ever known.
Only in those quiet moments with him, did she get a glimmering of what might lay beneath the exterior. His focus was absolute. He put his whole mind into reflection, into thinking about what he needed to do. And Rose suspected that somewhere in his head, at some point, she was the centre of his attention as he tried to figure her out, tried to see inside her, it almost felt like. Was he telepathic? Could he read minds? Rose hoped not because when he looked at her closely, he might get a bit of a shock if he read her mind too closely, or at all - those eyes were beginning to heat her up, make her feel flustered and just a little bit horny.
Maybe that was what he wanted. He didn’t seem to have any girlfriend or partner, or anything that resembled the words that Jabe had used to try and define Rose, at least not that Rose would tell. But she guessed he could have one stashed somewhere. Men did that, Rose had seen plenty of times, had friends who’d been on either end of that arrangement. It never ended well, but it still happened a lot: blokes keeping two girls - one at home in the kitchen or with the kids, the other round about for a quick go when he got bored. Rose had sworn she’d never let a guy put her in that position, but then some of those girls hadn’t exactly known what was going on at the time.
Of course, no one said there was another girl, so maybe she was it. Maybe he picked her up because he was lonely and wanted a bit of company, someone to help keep his bed warm. At this stage, Rose didn’t think she’d turn him down. He hadn’t made any move on her, hadn’t given her the impression that that was what he was after, and yet he had: those looks hadn’t meant nothing, now, had they?
That still left Rose feeling unsure, because, no, he hadn’t made a move, and those gazes might be smouldering, but they didn’t give her any real clues about how to act. His reaction to when she walked out wearing the dress had been genuine - he’d liked what he saw. So, what did that mean, did he want more? And what did more entail? He said he wasn’t human, which was fine, because he mostly looked human, but did he have the same parts as a human - did they work the same way? What if it were completely different for him? What if for him, sex involved something she couldn’t do, or something that just wasn’t any good for her? But if that were the case, would he look at her like that - surely he knew whether or not they could…Rose’s thoughts were getting more and more curled up in her head as she tried to puzzle through exactly what was going on, and she wished that Shareen were here to give her some advice. Well, with her new, improved mobile maybe she could call her friend and ask, except it would involve some very tricky questions and Rose didn’t even know how to begin to side step those.
Right now, she needed to get undressed. The Doctor had said he’d make them some tea and then she could get some sleep and tomorrow they’d go back to London so she could see her mum and explain that Rose was going travelling for a while (and that was not going to go over well, Rose could already hear the questions about why she was travelling with a man who must be at least twice her age), to pick up some clean clothes and various things, say a proper goodbye to Mickey (yes, he was a bit of an idiot, but he didn’t quite deserve to have his girlfriend run off without so much of an as you please), little bits and pieces that kept occurring her when she remembered to stop and breathe.
However, try as she might, her fingers couldn’t quite reach the top of her corset top. Somehow she’d managed to dress herself earlier, but it wasn’t working now. Resigned, she made to go and find the Doctor to see if he could unbutton the top for her. Deep down there was a part of her that didn’t want to ask him, because then he’d have his fingers on her back, and she didn’t want to think about what that was going to do to her innards. Deep down there was also a part that desperately wanted to feel those fingers on her back, wanted to feel them sliding down her spine, slipping under the fabric around to the front where she wasn’t wearing a bra…but she stopped her thoughts because they were dangerous. While she might really be starting to think she wanted him, she didn’t yet know if he wanted her; fantasies were pointless if they were going to go nowhere. At the same time if fantasies were all she was going to have, well she better make the most of it.
Turning to the door, she found him standing in it, watching her. Heat rushed to her cheeks, surprise mingling with embarrassment, and once again she hoped her couldn’t read minds, because if he could he was going to get quite a shock. The blood in her face heated further to match her thoughts, and she wondered if it were possible to boil over from just a look. Certainly he must be alien, because no other man had made her feel this way, not this quickly, not without ever doing anything to enhance those fantasies.
But his face was impassive, eyes the same unreadable intenseness that she was quickly becoming accustomed with. She was quite sure he didn’t look at Gwyneth like that. Maybe Jabe, but she wasn’t sure about that one. Most of the time he’d spent with the tree-woman had been away from Rose. At the time Rose had assumed that they were going off to find themselves a nice quiet corner, but she’d quickly learned that they’d had much bigger things on their minds. She knew better now, but it didn’t mean she knew more, or what he wanted.
Instead of fading away, the heat grew, flaring through parts of her that she had becoming increasingly used to through these past few days. Did he have any concept of how he made her feel? Did he know that she was moments away from having her jaw hang down around her knees while she drooled on the floor? He lifted an eyebrow at her, and that was enough.
Rose drew in a shaky breath, hoping he didn’t hear how affected she was, hoping he didn’t notice how she was almost trembling with desire. How could she ask him to undo her dress when if he came any closer she might just jump on him and push him to the floor, strip his pants and ride him until they both screamed.
That thought made her giggle mentally. Where did she get off acting like she was a heroine in a very trashy romance novel? All heaving breasts and entangled limbs? Yes, she enjoyed sex (even if she’d only been with two men before), but she’d never felt it take over like this. Ruthlessly she suppressed the desire, and then did so again when she saw he’d take a few steps into the room without her noticing. He might not look it, but he was incredibly graceful when he wanted to be, moving as smoothly as flowing water.
“Um,” she said, “can you help me get this undone - I can’t reach.” Her voice was low and had taken on a slightly husky tone, alarming her.
The Doctor didn’t answer, only kept moving forward using those graceful, graceful strides, uncomfortably reminding Rose of something stalking its prey. A great cat moving soundlessly through the grass plains, the creature of its attention never realising it was there until it was far, far too late. Now there was a spark of fear mingling with her desire. She still didn’t know what he wanted from her, and the look in his eyes was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Not only were knickers damp, but she could feel every hair on her body standing on end as chills ran along her arms. What had she gotten herself into?
Mammoth effort prevented Rose from reacting to the energy that was singing between her and the Doctor, the energy that was practically a living force all of it’s own. Instead she started to turn around so he could reach the buttons on her dress easily. Hands on her shoulders prevented her from completely that movement and she looked up to find the Doctor standing too close (far, far too close - but anywhere in the same room was too close), looking down at her with those same unreadable eyes, lips starting curve into what could only be consider a possessive smile.
His arms went around her, cool fingers caressing the skin between her should blades, before sliding to the top of her dress and the first button. Rose couldn’t stop the way her eyes drifted closed at the first touch, and then as he moved down lower she felt him lean in closer until the upper half of their bodies were brushing against each other, and his breath was on her cheeks and ear - each little puff, combined with the way the tips of her fingers skimmed against her back, made more shivers run through her, straight to between her legs to the gathering warmth and moisture there.
Rose’s eyes opened to find herself on level with his black clad shoulder, with the collar of the jacket he’d refused to remove earlier when she’d asked him if he were getting changed. His neck was tantalisingly close and she wondered what he would do if she tilted her head and nibbled on his neck, kissing, licking, biting. She wondered what he would taste like and if she would enjoy the flavour, if it would be enough to satisfy the desire which was keeping her blood at boiling point.
Without warning, the Doctor straightened, trailing icy heat up her spine with one finger. His hands lingered again at the top of the dress, while his eyes looked down at her, into her, and she wondered how she was supposed to keep from moaning, how she was supposed to keep from begging him to kiss her. But she found she could not utter a word, could not make a sound, and whether or not he was as trapped under the spell as her, he didn’t say anything either.
The dress was pulled down so that it slid over her body and down to the floor. Rose belatedly remembered she had no bra on, that such a thing was impractical for wearing the dress. But by then she was standing bare in front of the Doctor, only a pair of damp underwear keep the last of her modesty safe. A pair of underwear that she wanted him to remove. To remove, or slide his fingers underneath to find her clit. He did neither, instead his hands settled on her waist, fingers still so icy cold, rubbing at her sides, lightly tracing circles with his thumbs.
The Doctor bent his head down, and Rose thought he was going to kiss her, but his lips dodged hers completely to settle on her jaw and press feather-light there. She rose up and guided her chin further away from him, as he laid kisses on her neck, soft dry kisses that tickled, and made her arms reach up, to lock his head in place. But he ignored her attempt at direction and moved lower, down to her collar bone, where his mouth opened, and his tongue swept along the bone, changing her grip from one of direction to one for support.
When he stepped back, straightening again, she couldn’t quite contain the groan that slipped up her throat and through her slightly parted lips. The sound drew his eyes back to hers reminding her again of his intensity, but then he was looking down again, not paying any attention her face, and certainly not to her lips, where she was desperate for him to kiss her. Unable to help herself, she followed the path of his eyes downward to where they rested on her breasts, moments later his fingers settled there, and she could no longer even try to hide the moan as he traced one finger tip in a spiral around her breast to the areola, but not the nipple. He copied the move on the other breast, before tracing around both breasts, and cupping them, sliding his hands - finally, at last, at last - over the nipple, catching the hardened tip against his palms. Oh, that felt good. So very, very good.
His hands then travelled down, over her, sides, around the slight curve of her belly, circling her belly button, before moving back to her waist and settling there. By now her nerve-endings were sensitive to his touch, and tingling heat seemed to spread from where his still cool skin touched hers. He was still dressed, not stitch of clothing was out of place and Rose was beginning to wonder when he was going to remove it, or even if he was going to remove it. She wanted to ask him, but somehow couldn’t bring herself to form the words, couldn’t bring herself to ask him. His silence had invaded her and she couldn’t speak, the only noises came from the soft moans he was now drawing from her.
Never in her life had anyone explored her body like this. He seemed intent on running his hands over every inch of her, lightly, tantalisingly. His skin was cool and smooth, but she knew that already, just like she knew his grip was usually so strong and steady, firm without being hard. This was completely different. This wasn’t him holding her hand as they ran into danger; this was him touching body more intimately than either of her last two lovers had bothered to. And unlike her last two lovers it made heat pool in her belly and between her legs. It made her understand why so many people swore the build up could be as good as the final explosion.
Rose’s legs were weak, her knees were practically wobbling. A part of her was screaming ‘just shag me already!’ but another part of her never wanted this to end, never wanted his cool fingers to stop their mapping of her body. When he reached the top of her knickers, she closed her eyes and let her head tilt back. There was a slight rush of air, and she felt her underwear tugged down sharply, when she looked back at him, she was surprised to find him kneeling in front of her, his face on level with her belly button. Like his finger tips earlier, he traced the outside of the indent with his tongue, before dipping inside, all warm dampness.
Until now, his ministrations had only added to the slowly rising heat that was tingling through her, but the suddenness of his tongue, made her want him to do that to her lower, to thrust into her most intimate places. She’d never had anyone down there like that, had often wondered but had never been able to convince either Mickey or Jimmy to go down on her - not in the way she’s wanted. Mickey had tried once, but neither of them had enjoyed the experience, and had felt no compulsion to repeat it at any time. She had the sneaking suspicion that the Doctor could do this to her and she most certainly would enjoy it.
The Doctor, despite her rising need, didn’t rush himself or slow down, just kept doing exactly what he was doing - which was turning into slow, delicious torture. Hands were sliding over her buttocks, taking a moment cup them. And when she looked down at his face, she found his eyes on her, looking up as his hands moved lower, down her legs to her knees. When he touched the skin there, her head went back again, this time with her eyes wide open and a cry on her lips. He lingered there, much as he had over her breasts, tracing patterns only he knew. Then one hand slid back to her waist while the other bent her knee, and she quickly untangled her foot from her underwear, hooking her leg over his shoulder.
Rose wavered, suddenly finding balance completely thrown, and flailed her hands behind her until she found a wall or some shelves to grip on to. For a moment he hovered over her opening, breath tingling the skin, making her moan in want. His tongue flicked out and ran up the slit, tasting her. He pulled back slightly, seeming to consider her taste, before he moved forward and licked her inner thighs this time. Rose had to admit he was thorough, cleaning off every last inch of dampness, leaving it with a new tingling damp that she could feel seep through her skin.
Before she knew what was happening, his tongue had dipped inside and had run over the small mound there, and she cried out, her fingers clenching against whatever was behind her. She could feel his breath warm on the sensitive skin, and the way his skin brushed against her legs, and his nose ticked the top of her slit, but most all she could feel the gentle lapping against her clit. Too gentle, she wanted to thrust closer to make him press harder, because right now this wasn’t enough. But she couldn’t, between his hand firmly on one hip, and the other balancing her left leg, movement was restricted, and she was trapped at moving at the pace he chose.
Gradually, though, the stroke of his tongue became firmer and firmer, sending more and more heat waves tingling through her, making her body shake. It felt good, so very, very good, but not good enough, she wanted to climax, wanted to feel that burst shoot through her and know the Doctor had caused it, but she wasn’t close yet, and she wanted to be.
Focussing on the feeling of the roughness of his tongue on her clit, not just stroking, but sliding, using different rhythms, twisting and sucking - oh god, that sucking was good. She was moaning almost constantly now, unable to help herself, unable to keep quiet. All this kept her from noticing when his hand slid around from her left leg, under and up. But she certainly noticed when he slid first one finger and then two into her, proving just how good he was at multi-tasking by building up a rhythm that was different from the one his tongue used.
“Oh my god!” her whole body jerked, and later she would be certain she kicked the Doctor as his questing fingers ran over a spot inside of her that she wasn’t even aware existed. He pressed down on it, sliding finger tips over it again and again. What is tongue was doing to her clit suddenly became second to what his fingers were doing, where they were touching - she felt sure she was going to burst open and spill pure energy out.
And then with a shout, she was. Her whole body reached a crescendo, and she was tumbling over the top and down the edge to reach rock bottom, where she came to, still standing on shaking knees, body trembling with the after effects of her orgasm.
Almost calmly, he slid his finger from her, and guided her foot back to the ground, moving back, and standing smoothly. Unstable on her own feet, she wobbled, and he caught her, one hand sticky and damp on her waist, the other under her arm, the heel of a palm against her breast. Still mesmerised, she looked up at him, taking in the depths of his deep gaze. Without thinking, Rose lifted one hand away from the shelving behind her, feeling it ache as it unclenched, and brought it up to the back of the Doctor’s neck, guiding his face down to hers and kissed him deeply.
Her first impression was that he tasted of her, but as his tongue delved deeper into her mouth, searching out nerve endings, as she explored him, other things assaulted her, the way his lips and tongue were warmer than the rest of his body, his sharp, spiciness - he tasted the way he smelled. Naturally, her arms wrapped around his neck, while his fingers tightened on her waist, she tried to press their bodies closer, but he kept them apart - touching her in the least amount of places.
The Doctor broke the kiss, turning away from her, standing out of her grip completely and she moaned at the loss. Rose wanted to reach out to him, but found herself unable to move closer, or speak as he left her standing there naked in the middle of the wardrobe floor.
A few minutes later, as she gathered her clothes together, pulling on clean jeans and a tee-shirt, she realised that despite the intensity of the experience, she still had no idea what the Doctor really wanted from her. Deciding that as he seemed unlikely to throw her out in the next little while, she’d have plenty of time to figure it out, so next on her agenda was that cup of tea she’d been promised.
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