How to Turn on a Time Lord: Lesson One--Wardrobe
The Doctor wanted toast and jam. Except that there was no jam on the TARDIS. Which was why he walked out of the TARDIS and into Jackie’s kitchen, in search of jam. “Jackie?” he called, standing in the middle of the kitchen, and received no answer. “Rose?” Still no answer. He frowned. Did this mean he would have to make his own toast and jam? A sorry turn of events, this.
But he uncovered bread and toasted it and then smeared jam over it, and then happily took it to the parlour, where he ate it while watching tennis on television, because that was what was playing when he turned on the television, and when he was done he licked the jam enthusiastically off his fingers.
And then he thought. Where were Rose and Jackie? He seemed, now that he thought about it, dimly to recall that Jackie had said she was going to the grocery store. Rose had asked him if he wanted anything. He’d been busy tinkering and hadn’t bothered to pay much attention. Now he wished he’d asked for jam.
Well, that solved the mystery of where Jackie was. But where was Rose? Had she gone with her mother? It seemed so.
Which left him alone in the flat.
This thought delighted the Doctor, although he had no very clear idea what he would do with time alone in Jackie’s flat. He tried to figure out what he could do now that neither one of them would ever let him get away with if they were there, and he thought immediately of the one thing he had always longed to do: Find pictures of Rose as a child. The more embarrassing the better.
But where would Jackie keep such photographs? The Doctor cast a glance around the parlour, seeing no promising leads. The wardrobe! he thought, after a moment. Surely Jackie would keep such photographs in her wardrobe.
The Doctor, moving quickly because he had no idea how much time he had left until Jackie and Rose returned home, practically dashed into Jackie’s small walk-in-wardrobe. He wondered briefly at her having such a luxury in such a small flat, but was soon distracted by his surroundings and his quest for pictures. It was surprisingly well-organized-he had expected it to be a scattered mess. His eyes passed over the rows of blouses and trousers, hitting upon a stack of boxes on the top shelf that looked like likely suspects. He reached for the first one, pulled off the lid, and grinned. Jackpot, he thought, sifting through the photos.
He glanced at his watch, wondered how long Rose and her mother had been gone. He decided to give himself five minutes to look through the photos, settled himself cross-legged on the floor, and pulled out his specs, grinning over little Rose, chocolate cake smeared all over her face, or make-up inartfully applied in little-girl strokes, or running naked through a sprinkler.
He was so engrossed that he didn’t hear Rose until the third time she cleared her throat. Then he looked up, abruptly torn out of the world of Rose’s childhood. Rose the adult was standing, dressed in nothing but a towel, her hair still wet on her head, arms crossed and eyes accusing.
“Just what,” she asked, “do you think you’re doing?”
He had the good grace to blush, as he fumbled with his glasses. “I’m, er, looking at photographs of you. I thought you’d gone with your mum.”
“No. I took a shower. Can’t trust you in the flat alone, can I?” She walked into the wardrobe and looked over his shoulder at the photograph he was holding, of her in the middle of what looked like a world-class tantrum, face red and scrunched up in fury. She winced. “Oh, we are putting those away right now.”
“But, Rose,” he said, holding them out of her reach as he stood up. “They’re so charming.”
“They aren’t ‘charming.’”
“They’re delightful,” he insisted.
“They aren’t ‘delightful.’ Put them back, and we will never mention this again.”
He pouted a bit. “Why don’t you want me to know what you looked like as a child?”
“Why do you want to know what I looked like as a child? ‘S not like I ask you to describe all your regenerations to me. Now give them here.” She reached for the box again.
“Oh, but, Rose, it’s silly,” he said. “You’re so adorable.”
“Sure I am.”
“You were running naked through a sprinkler.”
“And that is not at all embarrassing,” remarked Rose, wryly. “Would you just give me the bloody box?”
He reached and replaced the box at the top of the wardrobe shelf. “There. Happy now?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
There was a flash in his eyes, a predatory gleam that made her take an automatic step back as her heart rate accelerated.
“You’re only wearing a towel,” he remarked, with that sexy smirk she always wanted to wipe off his face.
“I…just got out of the shower,” she managed, breathlessly, coming up against the wall at her back.
He closed in on her, walking until he was pressing her into the wall, and then settling his nose in her hair and taking a deep breath. “Yes,” he murmured against her. “You smell clean.”
“Stop it,” she said, shakily. “You can’t seduce me in my mum’s wardrobe.”
He leaned down and licked water droplets off her shoulder. Rose closed her eyes, grateful for the fact that his weight was keeping her upright, because she would have collapsed into a puddle.
“And you’re only after the photos, anyway,” she muttered, in weak accusation, as he nibbled his way up her neck. “You’re going to get me distracted and go straight to the photos.”
He drew slightly away from her. Far enough away that when she opened her eyes she could see him, flooding her vision and pouting. “That’s not true,” he informed her, sounding hurt that she would think that.
She would have continued the conversation. Except his lower lip sticking out like that was begging to be nibbled, and she reached forward, just to give it a quick nip that turned into a long, wet, deep kiss against the wall in her mother’s wardrobe that ended with the Doctor flinging her towel out of the way.
The thing was, though-and she could feel this quite clearly from their current positions-she was breathless and light-headed and aching for him, and he was not the least bit aroused. This was not unusual; she was not offended. She had grown used to the fact by now that nothing she could do with her hands or her teeth or her tongue-none of the more traditional bloke methods-worked on the Doctor. She supposed she should be grateful that his alienness manifested itself in such a trivial-in the bigger scheme of things-feature. His arousal was tied to her pheromones, she had been told by him many times, and if he kept kissing her, kept concentrating on her arousal, the pheromones would leak out of her and trigger him. They’d done it enough times for her to know that the system worked, but she suddenly wondered if it was, well, sub par sex for him. Sex with a Time Lord was, as far as she could tell, pretty damn good for a human. Was sex with a human a step down for a Time Lord? An inevitably less-than-completely-satisfying experience?
He pulled away from her, putting some space between them. Air rushed in, cool, to replace the scratch of the fabric of his suit. He was frowning a bit, in genuine concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she answered, automatically.
“You aren’t paying attention.” He didn’t sound accusatory. He sounded truly curious. And it occurred to her that he would, of course, know that her mind was elsewhere, because her pheromones weren’t kicking in for him properly. It was bloody difficult to fake an orgasm with the Doctor-not that she’d had to try. Then again, it was bloody difficult to do lots of normal, human sexual things for the Doctor. Like the simple fact that she hadn’t yet learned the trick of turning him on, that sex always had to start with a detached and clear-eyed Doctor driving her crazy before he came anywhere close to losing control.
“Do I do this correctly?” she asked, worrying her lower lip as she studied the depths of his dark eyes.
“Do you do what correctly?”
“This.” She waved her hand eloquently between the two of them.
He lifted a wry eyebrow. “Are you asking if it’s good for me?”
“I’m being serious, y’know. ‘S not like I’ve done this before, this Time Lord sex thing.”
“It isn’t some strange sort of ritual, you know,” he grumbled, sounding indignant. “It’s not very dissimilar from what you humans do.”
“Oh, yeah. A human female who didn’t know you? No way she’d be offended by stripping down naked and making out with you against a wall and not getting a single twinge out of you.” She nodded toward the front of his trousers. “That’s totally normal male behaviour.”
The Doctor looked amused. “You’re talking entirely in euphemisms, Rose.” He paused. “And you’re blushing.” He rolled the word around in his mouth deliciously.
“Stop it,” she said.
“Don’t you think, if I didn’t like it, I’d stop kissing you every chance I got?”
“Maybe you’re being polite.”
His grin was wolfish. He moved forward again, pressing her back against the wall, pinning her hands. “I am really not that nice, Rose,” he growled at her, and she braced herself for the kiss, but he lifted his head away from her and said, “Did you hear--?”
She heard it then, the front door close and her mother call, “Rose?”
Rose squeaked. “Get off me,” she hissed. “Get the towel. We’ve got to-“ She froze as she heard her mother’s footsteps down the hallway, toward the bedroom.
The Doctor scurried toward the wardrobe door, leaned down to pick up the towel, dropped it as her mother’s voice called, from clearly just outside her bedroom door, “Rose, I picked up the stuff you asked for! Mel called, and she and a couple of girls are doing quiz night at the pub. Thought the Doctor might be brilliant at that, if you want to come along! Rose?”
Rose heard her mother’s steps into the bedroom. The Doctor swung the door until it was almost shut, shrouding them in semi-darkness, and then crept with careful, deliberate quiet back to where Rose was. He put a finger to his lips. She rolled her eyes. As if she couldn’t figure that out for herself. She could hear things moving around on her mother’s vanity. Make-up. Getting ready for her night out. They were going to be stuck in here forever.
She put her hands on the Doctor’s head and drew his ear against her mouth. “This is your fault,” she breathed into it.
“My fault?” he hissed. “How is this--?”
“If you hadn’t been dead-set on finding photographs of me-“
The click of perfume bottles and eye shadow cases went eerily silent. The Doctor, instinctively, pressed closer to her and dropped closer to the floor, behind the row of blouses and trousers, so that, when her mother opened the door, they were effectively hidden. Rose held her breath. She could feel the Doctor doing the same.
“Did I leave that towel there?” she heard her mother mumble to herself, and then, after a second, the wardrobe door clicked entirely shut.
The Doctor, straightening them slowly, leaned his head around the blouses and trousers, and then murmured, as loud as he dared, “She took your towel.”
Well, this was a fine mess, Rose thought, frowning, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dark. It was neither the first nor the last time she’d been confined in a small, dark space with the Doctor, but it was the first time she’d been naked during the experience. And also the first time she’d ever truly thought the Doctor might be in store for a regeneration if they were discovered. The thought amused her. As if he could hear the path her thoughts were taking, the Doctor looked at her with what she could sense was a crease of worry between his eyebrows. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough that she could make out his form, but not his expressions.
And it was thinking about the Doctor reading her thoughts that made her think that…Maybe…If she understood enough about Time Lord arousal…
Keeping still, almost holding her breath, she closed her eyes and concentrated as hard as she could on a single thought. I love you. She had never done this without also being in the middle of passionate foreplay, so she wasn’t sure if it was enough, on its own, to alter her pheromones. I’m hopelessly in love with you, she thought, fiercely. Even when you do mad things like get us trapped in my mum’s wardrobe, I still love you. She thought these things, with single-minded intensity, and she knew the instant they shifted her pheromones, because his breath caught. His focus, which had been wandering around the small space, came back to her.
Progress, she thought. She might just be getting the hang of this. She looked at him, and, abruptly, instead of just thinking that she loved him, she felt it. Felt a wave of affection for him rise up and overtake her, almost frightening in its intensity.
He shuddered. And she could feel, triumphantly, that when he pressed against her, he was growing harder. “Stop that,” he hissed into her ear.
Now that she’d finally gotten the hang of arousing a Time Lord? Not a chance. She nuzzled at his neck and let herself feel awash in love for him. He bit back a groan and moved his hips in a hard, deliberate, heavenly thrust against her.
Rose felt her feelings fully consume her, her love for him breathtaking; she couldn’t get close enough to him, couldn’t get enough of him, and she found herself standing on her tiptoes, leaning in, kissing him. His arms came around her, pulled her to him so hard that she felt her breath whoosh out of her lungs, and she smiled.
The Doctor nuzzled his way along her jaw, his arms still holding her close. As she felt his breath against her ear, she could feel her nipples tighten in response and felt the dull throb between her legs grow more insistent.
“You’re playing with fire, Rose.” His voice was a deep, dark whisper, promising all sorts of delicious things, and she felt her womb twinge. Another wave of feeling crashed through her body, and she felt the Doctor press even harder against her, his erection almost painful against her stomach. She lightly ran her fingers along his spine, the layers of fabric adding a light friction to the action, and she felt gooseflesh dance across her skin as the Doctor shivered.
“You’re wearing entirely too many clothes,” she whispered as another flash of longing and want passed through her. The Doctor’s hips pushed against her again, and he was unable to control the low groan in his throat.
Rose held her breath; the muffled noises of her mum getting ready for a night out could still be heard through the door, and Rose exhaled. Her mum hadn’t heard.
Her attention was called back to the aroused male in front of her by the feel of his tongue lightly tracing the shell of her ear. He nibbled on her earlobe before whispering, “You’re a terrible tease, Rose. Ignoring me after making me feel like this.”
“And how’s that?” she whispered, mirroring his actions as she sucked on his earlobe. She felt his hands shift downward, cupping her bum and pulling her against him as he lifted up; the sudden feel of him right there through the fabric, the friction adding to the delightful sensation, made her gasp.
“Like I want nothing more than to be inside you. Like the universe could burn and I wouldn’t care if I had you surrounding me.” He was drifting light kisses over her face as he spoke, and she felt herself grow warm. Another wave of feeling passed through her.
“Like I could never get enough of this, given all the time in the universe,” he whispered before kissing her fiercely. She kissed back, trying desperately to convey the way he made her feel, how much she loved and wanted him. Her arms were now wrapped as tightly around him as his were her, and she once again thought that he was wearing far too many clothes.
“Trousers,” she gasped against his lips, and she felt him gently lower her back to the ground. The air of the wardrobe was cold against her skin, and she felt bereft as his arms slipped from around her.
The feeling must somehow have been carried in her pheromones, as she felt him gasp, then lean forward to place a gentle kiss against her lips. Pulling back, he whispered, “Tell me what you’d like to do.” She could hear the whisper of cloth, and hear the metallic noise of him pulling his zip down slowly.
If they’d been in a room with any light at all, she might have been embarrassed to fulfil his request. But somehow, locked with him in her mum’s wardrobe with the danger of being discovered at any point, she grew bold. She reached forward, her fingers finding his tie and slowly loosening it as she spoke. “I’d like to know what it’s like when you lose control.” The silk whispered against cotton as she pulled it through his collar and draped it around her neck. “I want to look into your eyes as you pound into me, as you come.” Her fingers returned to his chest and slowly began working the buttons of his shirt. “I want to make you feel the way you make me feel.” As she undid each of the buttons, she lightly brushed a kiss over the newly exposed flesh. With every touch of her lips against his bare, cool skin, she felt another flash of love; the Doctor was practically quivering by the time she reached the last button, his hands resting on her waist. He’d never made it past unzipping his fly.
She straightened and leaned in to brush a soft kiss over his lips before setting to the very important task of exposing more of his chest. She considered it fortunate that today was one of the days he’d chosen to dress relatively light; she’d never have been able to do this if he’d been wearing one of his shirt-and-Henley combinations.
Dimly, in the background, she could hear the noise of her mother shuffling around her room, and she froze. The Doctor’s breathing was shallow, and she felt him lean into her hands as they rested over his hearts; he either didn’t hear her mum, or he was beyond caring. He leaned in for a kiss, and she pressed lightly against him, keeping him a few inches away. “Shh…hang on a sec.”
She thought she heard the Doctor actually whimper as she stepped towards the door; pressing an ear against it, she heard silence from the room. She held her breath, concentrating, and jumped when she felt the Doctor press against her, his arousal now pressing into her bum. She felt his hands rest lightly on her waist before drifting upwards, and she stifled a groan as his talented fingers found her breasts. She leaned back into him, wiggling her bum as she felt herself grow slick.
“I said you were a tease, Rose,” he growled into her ear, punctuating the comment with a sharp nip of her earlobe. She brought her hands around, behind her, cupping his arse and pulling him in towards her. She wondered what it would be like to have him take her from behind, and felt a hot flash of heat pulse through her body. The Doctor’s hands tightened around her breasts in response, his fingers pinching and rubbing her nipples.
She wanted to shag him rotten.
He drifted his mouth downwards along her neck, pausing to lick in time with her increased heartbeat; she was fighting the urge to give in right then and there, forcibly dragging her mind back to what she had been investigating earlier. There was a chance-a very slim chance--her mum might be taking a shower before her night out. If she could just get them out of the wardrobe and into the TARDIS without getting caught, they could continue on doing whatever the Doctor wanted.
She closed her eyes, concentrating once again on the sounds on the other side of the door-more accurately, on the complete lack of noise from the room outside. She reached up and lightly removed the Doctor’s hands from the delightful distraction he was providing. Feeling his confusion and his hurt, she turned her head; he captured her lips before she could speak, and tried to turn her towards him.
“Doctor.” She pulled her head back. “I think-“ He kissed her deeply, and it was a moment before she could finish. “I think my mum might be in the shower.”
“Don’t care,” he murmured against her lips, his hands drifting across her stomach, heading inexorably downwards. She swallowed; if he started that, they’d never get out of the wardrobe and would be found out for sure. She firmly grasped his wrists, fighting to drag his hands upwards to safe ground.
“Doctor,” she hissed. “Please.” She stepped forward, felt the Doctor move with her, refusing to break contact. She made a mental note: once turned on, a Time Lord was very difficult indeed to distract.
She pressed her ear against the door once more, and again heard nothing; taking a deep breath, she slowly cracked the door open. The Doctor’s entire body was pressed against hers, and she could feel his breath on her neck. The adrenaline of trying to avoid being caught, the very real fear that her mum would kill him if they were, only heightened the sensations he was causing, and she felt another flash of want. The Doctor thrust his hips against her once more, making her glad she’d kept her hand on the door handle.
Her mum wasn’t in the room, and Rose couldn’t hear any movement at all in the sitting room or kitchen. She tiptoed out into the room, her hand wrapped around the Doctor’s. She gently closed the wardrobe door before turning to warn him to be quiet; she shifted her gaze to the Doctor, and was arrested by the look in his eyes. She’d seen that look before, but never outside of them actually making passionate love. She gasped, another wave of love constricting her heart, and she watched him flush in response. His eyes were dilated, the brown barely visible; his fair skin was tinged a light pink, and she noticed a faint sheen of perspiration on his skin. Tension was visible in every line of his body, and she wondered if he’d even be able to make it to the TARDIS. Assuming, of course, the coast was clear.
She carefully stepped towards the door to the bedroom, ready to face a wrathful Jackie Tyler at any moment, her hand tugging the Doctor along behind her. Every time she stopped, his free hand slid up along bare flesh, caressing her bum, drifting over her waist, brushing her hair aside so he could plant a soft kiss on her shoulder; and every time he touched her, another wave of emotion overtook her. She was having a very, very hard time keeping her concentration, trying to get them to safety.
She peeked out the bedroom door, down the hallway, and was rewarded with the sound of water running in the loo. She turned to the Doctor, tugging on his hand and tilting her head, and led him rapidly down the short hall to where the TARDIS was parked.
“Key,” she hissed as they neared the door to their refuge, not entirely convinced the Doctor would have anything so prosaic on his mind.
“What?” he mumbled, clearly not interested in the location of the key and far more interested in the locations of parts of her body that her mother would murder him over if she caught him fondling them.
She heard the water shut off. They didn’t have much time at all, and she started to panic. “Hurry!” she whispered unnecessarily, mostly to herself, as she pushed some distance between them so she could rummage around in his inside coat pocket. She refused to think what else might be in that pocket, finally triumphantly closing her hand around the key.
She shoved him through the door before gently closing it behind her. She let out a sigh of relief, relaxing against the door as her eyes closed.
“Rose,” the Doctor growled, pressing up against her and kissing her deeply. She sighed again as she felt his body against hers, his bare skin causing hers to spark where they touched, and she was reminded of what she had been doing before she’d realized they had a way out of their prison.
“Now. I think we were doing this…” she whispered against the Doctor’s lips, her hands moving up his bare chest before skating down his shoulders. He shrugged out of his jacket and shirt, never breaking the kiss, his hands sliding back to her waist once the fabric had been shed. She moaned as his lips drifted-once more-down her neck, the Doctor pausing to press his tongue against her pulse point before continuing down to kiss a line along her shoulder. She tilted her head back, resting it against the door, trying to give him as much access as he desired, and gave herself over to the sensations he was creating. She heard him moan in response, and he raised glazed eyes to hers. Her hands slid up to gently cup his face, her thumbs lightly rubbing along his cheekbones; she didn’t think she could ever grow tired of seeing the Doctor like this, of being able to touch him, and she felt her heart clench with a deep, all-consuming love. She watched as his eyes fluttered shut, and felt his hips press into her.
The teeth of his zip were cold and sharp against her sensitive flesh, and she slid her hands lightly down his neck. Placing a soft kiss on his Adams apple, she moved them down his breastbone, her fingers catching the soft hairs on their journey towards his waist. The Doctor had tilted his head back, savouring what she was doing to him, and she found a serene peace in knowing she could return even a portion of some of the feeling he engendered in her. She couldn’t believe how much she loved him; not lust, but deep, all-encompassing love, and she felt her eyes begin to tear with the intensity of the emotion. The Doctor let out a deep sigh, his hands bracing themselves on either side of her as he tilted his head forward to look at her.
She dropped her head, blinking the tears away as she tried working to remove the Doctor’s trousers; she felt him shift, and stilled as he moved a hand to tilt her face back up towards him. She blinked hastily, and saw his lips curve upwards in the soft smile he reserved only for her.
“Oh, Rose.” He leaned down, kissed her gently, his hand drifting lightly along her arm before resting at her waist. She lost herself in the kiss, and was only vaguely aware of the Doctor shifting, wiggling, his arms eventually wrapping around her once more, pulling her closer. She opened her eyes in surprise as she felt the bare flesh of his hips and erection pressing into her skin, and she moaned in appreciation as her eyes once more closed.
She had no idea how long they remained like that, wrapped in each other’s arms as their mouths languidly explored each other; time had stopped, as it often did when the Doctor made love to her. He eventually loosened his hold on her, sliding an arm down into the space in between them, his fingers reaching the dark curls at the join of her legs. She shifted, spreading her legs apart for him as she felt an anticipatory throb, and she sighed as his fingers drifted lightly down into her wetness. She let out a throaty moan as he teased her briefly, his fingers just barely dipping into her opening before dancing forward again, pressing lightly on her clit before drifting upwards. She pulled back from the kiss, opening her eyes in question; the Doctor’s eyes were open, and she felt herself grow lost in their dark intensity.
He moved his hands and lifted her up; bracing her against the door, he shifted until the tip of his erection was resting against her, a gentle twist of his hips ensuring he had found the perfect angle. Holding her gaze, he slowly slid into her, and she felt her eyes close in pleasure.
“My Doctor,” she sighed as he held there, emotion washing over her at the feeling of him finally being inside of her. The discomfort of being pressed against the door was nothing compared to what it felt like to be so intimately joined with him, and she felt her heart clench.
“My Rose.” He pushed harder into her as the intensity of her emotion translated into her pheromones, and she gasped.
“Do it again.” She opened her eyes and looked at him.
He pulled back, only able to go so far with his arms locked under her, and then thrust forward again, his gaze never leaving her face.
“Again. Please,” she whispered, her wrists locked behind his head. He pulled back, this time leaning in to capture her lips in his as he thrust forward; he pulled back before pushing forward again, eventually setting a steady rhythm with his mouth and his hips.
Pinned as she was, she had to resort to using her mouth to encourage him; as she often did, she whispered in his ear, nipping and licking in between words, her lips encouraging him and driving her further towards release. As he grew closer to the brink his pace increased; instead of trying to capture her lips in his, he began whispering words of his own. The TARDIS still refused to translate what it was he said during these times, and Rose lost herself instead in the sound of his voice, the lyrical syllables rolling off his tongue as he whispered into her ear, his meaning clear even if the words weren’t. Harder, faster, his body slammed into hers, and as he found release he drew her name out like a prayer.
She captured his lips in hers, wanting desperately to join him in release, and he continued to pound into her as he snuck a hand down in between their bodies. All it took was one quick flick of his fingers against her clit and she fell after him, her back arching and her head falling back as her teeth clenched, her love for the man who had done this blossoming outwards like a star gone nova. She felt his lips drift onto her neck, soft kisses drifting upwards as she rode the aftershocks of her orgasm. She thought her heart was going to burst when he stopped at her ear, softly whispered something in his native tongue, her name surrounded by the lovely foreign sounds of his language.
I love you, too, she thought before turning and kissing him gently.
They stood, leaning heavily against the door to the TARDIS. In the crash of the adrenaline from sneaking through the flat, and the normal crash from a Doctor-induced orgasm, she was exhausted. She wanted to find a bed and cuddle against the Doctor and fall asleep to the beats of his hearts.
“Lay with me while I take a nap?” she suggested, sleepily, against his neck.
“Hmm?” he mumbled.
“A nap,” she repeated, shoving at him a bit. “Come on, you’re heavy.”
He grunted, rolled off her so they were standing side-by-side, and slid to the floor. “Sure,” he said, yawning as he leaned lightly against her leg. “Let’s take a nap.”
She stared down at him, wide-eyed. “Well, I was thinking we’d nap…in a…Are you going to take a nap?” This would be unprecedented.
“You know what you said to me in the wardrobe?” He suddenly looked fuzzy. “We were in the wardrobe, right?”
She blinked in astonishment. “Yes. You don’t remember?”
“I do. It’s just that it’s fuzzy. It’s all a bit fuzzy after you decided you were going to drive me mad. Losing control.” He shook his head a bit as if to clear it. “That’s bloody exhausting. Is that what it’s like for you every time?”
“Every single time.” She grinned, her heart suddenly overflowing with affection for him.
He shuddered. “Oh, really, stop that.”
She laughed then. “Come on.” She held her hand out to him, and he took it as he stood up. “Let’s go sleep in a bed. I actually am very excited to sleep with you. Are you really going to sleep?”
“I think so, yes. I think I’m actually tired.”
He was adorable. She leaned forward and hugged him suddenly, fiercely.
He hugged her back but sounded bewildered when he said, “What’s this for?”
“Oh, no reason,” she said, while thinking that she loved him.
His breath caught, and he said something that the TARDIS refused to translate. She didn’t think it was an endearment this time. “Now that you’ve figured this out, I don’t have a chance, do I?”
She giggled and then pulled back a bit. “Not really, no.”
He paused. Then he said, “Sooooo,” drawing out the word with exaggerated casualness. “I think we should go take a nap. And then, I think you should, you know, practice this whole thing you’ve stumbled upon.”
“What whole thing?” she asked, innocently.
“This whole control over your pheromones you’ve suddenly discovered.”
“Ah. That. You think I need to practice that? Really? You don’t think I got it quite right the first time around?”
“Wellllll, you know, I like-“
There was a knock on the TARDIS door. She’d forgotten they were still standing next to it. They both jumped, startled.
“Rose?” came her mother’s voice. “You in there?”
The Doctor shook his head violently.
“Did you hear what I said? About quiz night at the pub?” her mother continued.
Rose suddenly gasped in delight. The Doctor looked at her in alarm as she shoved him behind her and poked her head around the door. “Quiz night at the pub? That’s brilliant!”
The Doctor tugged at her hand. She ignored him.
“I thought the Doctor’d be good at it. Could win us a few rounds of drinks. We’re leaving in about an hour. I got those groceries you asked for.”
“Great. Thanks. I’ll come get them a bit later.”
Her mother peered at her suspiciously. “What are you up to, then?”
“Nothing,” said Rose, innocently.
“You’ve got his tie round your neck,” said her mother, sardonically.
Rose looked down, totally forgetting she’d draped it around herself after she’d taken it off him, and blushed. “I’ll tell the Doctor. About quiz night,” she said, and hastily closed the door.
The Doctor looked shocked and displeased. “Quiz night?” he complained.
“Come on, you’ll be brilliant at quiz night!”
“That’s not the point, the point is that, well, I thought we’d…stay in…for the evening.”
“My mother will love you so much if you win her some rounds of drinks at quiz night, and then we’ll stay in.”
“But-“
“And you need my mother to love you, because otherwise she’s gonna kill you and your next regeneration.”
“For what now?” he asked, as if he couldn’t believe Jackie could still manage to find fault with him.
“I’m wearing your tie, I’m pretty sure she suspects there’s something going on that could justify homicide. So. Win her a few drinks at quiz night, and then we can disappear into the Vortex. For days.” Rose draped his tie over his neck and winked at him. “I think I need another shower. You ought to take that nap.” She grinned at him, tongue poking out between her teeth. “You’ve got a long evening ahead of you, you know.” She brushed her hand over his arm as she went by, with a burst of affection.
The Doctor flinched. And then sighed. And then decided he really did need that nap. In preparation for days in the Vortex. And what he thought would turn out to be a pretty torturous-in the best way possible-quiz night.
But he uncovered bread and toasted it and then smeared jam over it, and then happily took it to the parlour, where he ate it while watching tennis on television, because that was what was playing when he turned on the television, and when he was done he licked the jam enthusiastically off his fingers.
And then he thought. Where were Rose and Jackie? He seemed, now that he thought about it, dimly to recall that Jackie had said she was going to the grocery store. Rose had asked him if he wanted anything. He’d been busy tinkering and hadn’t bothered to pay much attention. Now he wished he’d asked for jam.
Well, that solved the mystery of where Jackie was. But where was Rose? Had she gone with her mother? It seemed so.
Which left him alone in the flat.
This thought delighted the Doctor, although he had no very clear idea what he would do with time alone in Jackie’s flat. He tried to figure out what he could do now that neither one of them would ever let him get away with if they were there, and he thought immediately of the one thing he had always longed to do: Find pictures of Rose as a child. The more embarrassing the better.
But where would Jackie keep such photographs? The Doctor cast a glance around the parlour, seeing no promising leads. The wardrobe! he thought, after a moment. Surely Jackie would keep such photographs in her wardrobe.
The Doctor, moving quickly because he had no idea how much time he had left until Jackie and Rose returned home, practically dashed into Jackie’s small walk-in-wardrobe. He wondered briefly at her having such a luxury in such a small flat, but was soon distracted by his surroundings and his quest for pictures. It was surprisingly well-organized-he had expected it to be a scattered mess. His eyes passed over the rows of blouses and trousers, hitting upon a stack of boxes on the top shelf that looked like likely suspects. He reached for the first one, pulled off the lid, and grinned. Jackpot, he thought, sifting through the photos.
He glanced at his watch, wondered how long Rose and her mother had been gone. He decided to give himself five minutes to look through the photos, settled himself cross-legged on the floor, and pulled out his specs, grinning over little Rose, chocolate cake smeared all over her face, or make-up inartfully applied in little-girl strokes, or running naked through a sprinkler.
He was so engrossed that he didn’t hear Rose until the third time she cleared her throat. Then he looked up, abruptly torn out of the world of Rose’s childhood. Rose the adult was standing, dressed in nothing but a towel, her hair still wet on her head, arms crossed and eyes accusing.
“Just what,” she asked, “do you think you’re doing?”
He had the good grace to blush, as he fumbled with his glasses. “I’m, er, looking at photographs of you. I thought you’d gone with your mum.”
“No. I took a shower. Can’t trust you in the flat alone, can I?” She walked into the wardrobe and looked over his shoulder at the photograph he was holding, of her in the middle of what looked like a world-class tantrum, face red and scrunched up in fury. She winced. “Oh, we are putting those away right now.”
“But, Rose,” he said, holding them out of her reach as he stood up. “They’re so charming.”
“They aren’t ‘charming.’”
“They’re delightful,” he insisted.
“They aren’t ‘delightful.’ Put them back, and we will never mention this again.”
He pouted a bit. “Why don’t you want me to know what you looked like as a child?”
“Why do you want to know what I looked like as a child? ‘S not like I ask you to describe all your regenerations to me. Now give them here.” She reached for the box again.
“Oh, but, Rose, it’s silly,” he said. “You’re so adorable.”
“Sure I am.”
“You were running naked through a sprinkler.”
“And that is not at all embarrassing,” remarked Rose, wryly. “Would you just give me the bloody box?”
He reached and replaced the box at the top of the wardrobe shelf. “There. Happy now?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
There was a flash in his eyes, a predatory gleam that made her take an automatic step back as her heart rate accelerated.
“You’re only wearing a towel,” he remarked, with that sexy smirk she always wanted to wipe off his face.
“I…just got out of the shower,” she managed, breathlessly, coming up against the wall at her back.
He closed in on her, walking until he was pressing her into the wall, and then settling his nose in her hair and taking a deep breath. “Yes,” he murmured against her. “You smell clean.”
“Stop it,” she said, shakily. “You can’t seduce me in my mum’s wardrobe.”
He leaned down and licked water droplets off her shoulder. Rose closed her eyes, grateful for the fact that his weight was keeping her upright, because she would have collapsed into a puddle.
“And you’re only after the photos, anyway,” she muttered, in weak accusation, as he nibbled his way up her neck. “You’re going to get me distracted and go straight to the photos.”
He drew slightly away from her. Far enough away that when she opened her eyes she could see him, flooding her vision and pouting. “That’s not true,” he informed her, sounding hurt that she would think that.
She would have continued the conversation. Except his lower lip sticking out like that was begging to be nibbled, and she reached forward, just to give it a quick nip that turned into a long, wet, deep kiss against the wall in her mother’s wardrobe that ended with the Doctor flinging her towel out of the way.
The thing was, though-and she could feel this quite clearly from their current positions-she was breathless and light-headed and aching for him, and he was not the least bit aroused. This was not unusual; she was not offended. She had grown used to the fact by now that nothing she could do with her hands or her teeth or her tongue-none of the more traditional bloke methods-worked on the Doctor. She supposed she should be grateful that his alienness manifested itself in such a trivial-in the bigger scheme of things-feature. His arousal was tied to her pheromones, she had been told by him many times, and if he kept kissing her, kept concentrating on her arousal, the pheromones would leak out of her and trigger him. They’d done it enough times for her to know that the system worked, but she suddenly wondered if it was, well, sub par sex for him. Sex with a Time Lord was, as far as she could tell, pretty damn good for a human. Was sex with a human a step down for a Time Lord? An inevitably less-than-completely-satisfying experience?
He pulled away from her, putting some space between them. Air rushed in, cool, to replace the scratch of the fabric of his suit. He was frowning a bit, in genuine concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she answered, automatically.
“You aren’t paying attention.” He didn’t sound accusatory. He sounded truly curious. And it occurred to her that he would, of course, know that her mind was elsewhere, because her pheromones weren’t kicking in for him properly. It was bloody difficult to fake an orgasm with the Doctor-not that she’d had to try. Then again, it was bloody difficult to do lots of normal, human sexual things for the Doctor. Like the simple fact that she hadn’t yet learned the trick of turning him on, that sex always had to start with a detached and clear-eyed Doctor driving her crazy before he came anywhere close to losing control.
“Do I do this correctly?” she asked, worrying her lower lip as she studied the depths of his dark eyes.
“Do you do what correctly?”
“This.” She waved her hand eloquently between the two of them.
He lifted a wry eyebrow. “Are you asking if it’s good for me?”
“I’m being serious, y’know. ‘S not like I’ve done this before, this Time Lord sex thing.”
“It isn’t some strange sort of ritual, you know,” he grumbled, sounding indignant. “It’s not very dissimilar from what you humans do.”
“Oh, yeah. A human female who didn’t know you? No way she’d be offended by stripping down naked and making out with you against a wall and not getting a single twinge out of you.” She nodded toward the front of his trousers. “That’s totally normal male behaviour.”
The Doctor looked amused. “You’re talking entirely in euphemisms, Rose.” He paused. “And you’re blushing.” He rolled the word around in his mouth deliciously.
“Stop it,” she said.
“Don’t you think, if I didn’t like it, I’d stop kissing you every chance I got?”
“Maybe you’re being polite.”
His grin was wolfish. He moved forward again, pressing her back against the wall, pinning her hands. “I am really not that nice, Rose,” he growled at her, and she braced herself for the kiss, but he lifted his head away from her and said, “Did you hear--?”
She heard it then, the front door close and her mother call, “Rose?”
Rose squeaked. “Get off me,” she hissed. “Get the towel. We’ve got to-“ She froze as she heard her mother’s footsteps down the hallway, toward the bedroom.
The Doctor scurried toward the wardrobe door, leaned down to pick up the towel, dropped it as her mother’s voice called, from clearly just outside her bedroom door, “Rose, I picked up the stuff you asked for! Mel called, and she and a couple of girls are doing quiz night at the pub. Thought the Doctor might be brilliant at that, if you want to come along! Rose?”
Rose heard her mother’s steps into the bedroom. The Doctor swung the door until it was almost shut, shrouding them in semi-darkness, and then crept with careful, deliberate quiet back to where Rose was. He put a finger to his lips. She rolled her eyes. As if she couldn’t figure that out for herself. She could hear things moving around on her mother’s vanity. Make-up. Getting ready for her night out. They were going to be stuck in here forever.
She put her hands on the Doctor’s head and drew his ear against her mouth. “This is your fault,” she breathed into it.
“My fault?” he hissed. “How is this--?”
“If you hadn’t been dead-set on finding photographs of me-“
The click of perfume bottles and eye shadow cases went eerily silent. The Doctor, instinctively, pressed closer to her and dropped closer to the floor, behind the row of blouses and trousers, so that, when her mother opened the door, they were effectively hidden. Rose held her breath. She could feel the Doctor doing the same.
“Did I leave that towel there?” she heard her mother mumble to herself, and then, after a second, the wardrobe door clicked entirely shut.
The Doctor, straightening them slowly, leaned his head around the blouses and trousers, and then murmured, as loud as he dared, “She took your towel.”
Well, this was a fine mess, Rose thought, frowning, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dark. It was neither the first nor the last time she’d been confined in a small, dark space with the Doctor, but it was the first time she’d been naked during the experience. And also the first time she’d ever truly thought the Doctor might be in store for a regeneration if they were discovered. The thought amused her. As if he could hear the path her thoughts were taking, the Doctor looked at her with what she could sense was a crease of worry between his eyebrows. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough that she could make out his form, but not his expressions.
And it was thinking about the Doctor reading her thoughts that made her think that…Maybe…If she understood enough about Time Lord arousal…
Keeping still, almost holding her breath, she closed her eyes and concentrated as hard as she could on a single thought. I love you. She had never done this without also being in the middle of passionate foreplay, so she wasn’t sure if it was enough, on its own, to alter her pheromones. I’m hopelessly in love with you, she thought, fiercely. Even when you do mad things like get us trapped in my mum’s wardrobe, I still love you. She thought these things, with single-minded intensity, and she knew the instant they shifted her pheromones, because his breath caught. His focus, which had been wandering around the small space, came back to her.
Progress, she thought. She might just be getting the hang of this. She looked at him, and, abruptly, instead of just thinking that she loved him, she felt it. Felt a wave of affection for him rise up and overtake her, almost frightening in its intensity.
He shuddered. And she could feel, triumphantly, that when he pressed against her, he was growing harder. “Stop that,” he hissed into her ear.
Now that she’d finally gotten the hang of arousing a Time Lord? Not a chance. She nuzzled at his neck and let herself feel awash in love for him. He bit back a groan and moved his hips in a hard, deliberate, heavenly thrust against her.
Rose felt her feelings fully consume her, her love for him breathtaking; she couldn’t get close enough to him, couldn’t get enough of him, and she found herself standing on her tiptoes, leaning in, kissing him. His arms came around her, pulled her to him so hard that she felt her breath whoosh out of her lungs, and she smiled.
The Doctor nuzzled his way along her jaw, his arms still holding her close. As she felt his breath against her ear, she could feel her nipples tighten in response and felt the dull throb between her legs grow more insistent.
“You’re playing with fire, Rose.” His voice was a deep, dark whisper, promising all sorts of delicious things, and she felt her womb twinge. Another wave of feeling crashed through her body, and she felt the Doctor press even harder against her, his erection almost painful against her stomach. She lightly ran her fingers along his spine, the layers of fabric adding a light friction to the action, and she felt gooseflesh dance across her skin as the Doctor shivered.
“You’re wearing entirely too many clothes,” she whispered as another flash of longing and want passed through her. The Doctor’s hips pushed against her again, and he was unable to control the low groan in his throat.
Rose held her breath; the muffled noises of her mum getting ready for a night out could still be heard through the door, and Rose exhaled. Her mum hadn’t heard.
Her attention was called back to the aroused male in front of her by the feel of his tongue lightly tracing the shell of her ear. He nibbled on her earlobe before whispering, “You’re a terrible tease, Rose. Ignoring me after making me feel like this.”
“And how’s that?” she whispered, mirroring his actions as she sucked on his earlobe. She felt his hands shift downward, cupping her bum and pulling her against him as he lifted up; the sudden feel of him right there through the fabric, the friction adding to the delightful sensation, made her gasp.
“Like I want nothing more than to be inside you. Like the universe could burn and I wouldn’t care if I had you surrounding me.” He was drifting light kisses over her face as he spoke, and she felt herself grow warm. Another wave of feeling passed through her.
“Like I could never get enough of this, given all the time in the universe,” he whispered before kissing her fiercely. She kissed back, trying desperately to convey the way he made her feel, how much she loved and wanted him. Her arms were now wrapped as tightly around him as his were her, and she once again thought that he was wearing far too many clothes.
“Trousers,” she gasped against his lips, and she felt him gently lower her back to the ground. The air of the wardrobe was cold against her skin, and she felt bereft as his arms slipped from around her.
The feeling must somehow have been carried in her pheromones, as she felt him gasp, then lean forward to place a gentle kiss against her lips. Pulling back, he whispered, “Tell me what you’d like to do.” She could hear the whisper of cloth, and hear the metallic noise of him pulling his zip down slowly.
If they’d been in a room with any light at all, she might have been embarrassed to fulfil his request. But somehow, locked with him in her mum’s wardrobe with the danger of being discovered at any point, she grew bold. She reached forward, her fingers finding his tie and slowly loosening it as she spoke. “I’d like to know what it’s like when you lose control.” The silk whispered against cotton as she pulled it through his collar and draped it around her neck. “I want to look into your eyes as you pound into me, as you come.” Her fingers returned to his chest and slowly began working the buttons of his shirt. “I want to make you feel the way you make me feel.” As she undid each of the buttons, she lightly brushed a kiss over the newly exposed flesh. With every touch of her lips against his bare, cool skin, she felt another flash of love; the Doctor was practically quivering by the time she reached the last button, his hands resting on her waist. He’d never made it past unzipping his fly.
She straightened and leaned in to brush a soft kiss over his lips before setting to the very important task of exposing more of his chest. She considered it fortunate that today was one of the days he’d chosen to dress relatively light; she’d never have been able to do this if he’d been wearing one of his shirt-and-Henley combinations.
Dimly, in the background, she could hear the noise of her mother shuffling around her room, and she froze. The Doctor’s breathing was shallow, and she felt him lean into her hands as they rested over his hearts; he either didn’t hear her mum, or he was beyond caring. He leaned in for a kiss, and she pressed lightly against him, keeping him a few inches away. “Shh…hang on a sec.”
She thought she heard the Doctor actually whimper as she stepped towards the door; pressing an ear against it, she heard silence from the room. She held her breath, concentrating, and jumped when she felt the Doctor press against her, his arousal now pressing into her bum. She felt his hands rest lightly on her waist before drifting upwards, and she stifled a groan as his talented fingers found her breasts. She leaned back into him, wiggling her bum as she felt herself grow slick.
“I said you were a tease, Rose,” he growled into her ear, punctuating the comment with a sharp nip of her earlobe. She brought her hands around, behind her, cupping his arse and pulling him in towards her. She wondered what it would be like to have him take her from behind, and felt a hot flash of heat pulse through her body. The Doctor’s hands tightened around her breasts in response, his fingers pinching and rubbing her nipples.
She wanted to shag him rotten.
He drifted his mouth downwards along her neck, pausing to lick in time with her increased heartbeat; she was fighting the urge to give in right then and there, forcibly dragging her mind back to what she had been investigating earlier. There was a chance-a very slim chance--her mum might be taking a shower before her night out. If she could just get them out of the wardrobe and into the TARDIS without getting caught, they could continue on doing whatever the Doctor wanted.
She closed her eyes, concentrating once again on the sounds on the other side of the door-more accurately, on the complete lack of noise from the room outside. She reached up and lightly removed the Doctor’s hands from the delightful distraction he was providing. Feeling his confusion and his hurt, she turned her head; he captured her lips before she could speak, and tried to turn her towards him.
“Doctor.” She pulled her head back. “I think-“ He kissed her deeply, and it was a moment before she could finish. “I think my mum might be in the shower.”
“Don’t care,” he murmured against her lips, his hands drifting across her stomach, heading inexorably downwards. She swallowed; if he started that, they’d never get out of the wardrobe and would be found out for sure. She firmly grasped his wrists, fighting to drag his hands upwards to safe ground.
“Doctor,” she hissed. “Please.” She stepped forward, felt the Doctor move with her, refusing to break contact. She made a mental note: once turned on, a Time Lord was very difficult indeed to distract.
She pressed her ear against the door once more, and again heard nothing; taking a deep breath, she slowly cracked the door open. The Doctor’s entire body was pressed against hers, and she could feel his breath on her neck. The adrenaline of trying to avoid being caught, the very real fear that her mum would kill him if they were, only heightened the sensations he was causing, and she felt another flash of want. The Doctor thrust his hips against her once more, making her glad she’d kept her hand on the door handle.
Her mum wasn’t in the room, and Rose couldn’t hear any movement at all in the sitting room or kitchen. She tiptoed out into the room, her hand wrapped around the Doctor’s. She gently closed the wardrobe door before turning to warn him to be quiet; she shifted her gaze to the Doctor, and was arrested by the look in his eyes. She’d seen that look before, but never outside of them actually making passionate love. She gasped, another wave of love constricting her heart, and she watched him flush in response. His eyes were dilated, the brown barely visible; his fair skin was tinged a light pink, and she noticed a faint sheen of perspiration on his skin. Tension was visible in every line of his body, and she wondered if he’d even be able to make it to the TARDIS. Assuming, of course, the coast was clear.
She carefully stepped towards the door to the bedroom, ready to face a wrathful Jackie Tyler at any moment, her hand tugging the Doctor along behind her. Every time she stopped, his free hand slid up along bare flesh, caressing her bum, drifting over her waist, brushing her hair aside so he could plant a soft kiss on her shoulder; and every time he touched her, another wave of emotion overtook her. She was having a very, very hard time keeping her concentration, trying to get them to safety.
She peeked out the bedroom door, down the hallway, and was rewarded with the sound of water running in the loo. She turned to the Doctor, tugging on his hand and tilting her head, and led him rapidly down the short hall to where the TARDIS was parked.
“Key,” she hissed as they neared the door to their refuge, not entirely convinced the Doctor would have anything so prosaic on his mind.
“What?” he mumbled, clearly not interested in the location of the key and far more interested in the locations of parts of her body that her mother would murder him over if she caught him fondling them.
She heard the water shut off. They didn’t have much time at all, and she started to panic. “Hurry!” she whispered unnecessarily, mostly to herself, as she pushed some distance between them so she could rummage around in his inside coat pocket. She refused to think what else might be in that pocket, finally triumphantly closing her hand around the key.
She shoved him through the door before gently closing it behind her. She let out a sigh of relief, relaxing against the door as her eyes closed.
“Rose,” the Doctor growled, pressing up against her and kissing her deeply. She sighed again as she felt his body against hers, his bare skin causing hers to spark where they touched, and she was reminded of what she had been doing before she’d realized they had a way out of their prison.
“Now. I think we were doing this…” she whispered against the Doctor’s lips, her hands moving up his bare chest before skating down his shoulders. He shrugged out of his jacket and shirt, never breaking the kiss, his hands sliding back to her waist once the fabric had been shed. She moaned as his lips drifted-once more-down her neck, the Doctor pausing to press his tongue against her pulse point before continuing down to kiss a line along her shoulder. She tilted her head back, resting it against the door, trying to give him as much access as he desired, and gave herself over to the sensations he was creating. She heard him moan in response, and he raised glazed eyes to hers. Her hands slid up to gently cup his face, her thumbs lightly rubbing along his cheekbones; she didn’t think she could ever grow tired of seeing the Doctor like this, of being able to touch him, and she felt her heart clench with a deep, all-consuming love. She watched as his eyes fluttered shut, and felt his hips press into her.
The teeth of his zip were cold and sharp against her sensitive flesh, and she slid her hands lightly down his neck. Placing a soft kiss on his Adams apple, she moved them down his breastbone, her fingers catching the soft hairs on their journey towards his waist. The Doctor had tilted his head back, savouring what she was doing to him, and she found a serene peace in knowing she could return even a portion of some of the feeling he engendered in her. She couldn’t believe how much she loved him; not lust, but deep, all-encompassing love, and she felt her eyes begin to tear with the intensity of the emotion. The Doctor let out a deep sigh, his hands bracing themselves on either side of her as he tilted his head forward to look at her.
She dropped her head, blinking the tears away as she tried working to remove the Doctor’s trousers; she felt him shift, and stilled as he moved a hand to tilt her face back up towards him. She blinked hastily, and saw his lips curve upwards in the soft smile he reserved only for her.
“Oh, Rose.” He leaned down, kissed her gently, his hand drifting lightly along her arm before resting at her waist. She lost herself in the kiss, and was only vaguely aware of the Doctor shifting, wiggling, his arms eventually wrapping around her once more, pulling her closer. She opened her eyes in surprise as she felt the bare flesh of his hips and erection pressing into her skin, and she moaned in appreciation as her eyes once more closed.
She had no idea how long they remained like that, wrapped in each other’s arms as their mouths languidly explored each other; time had stopped, as it often did when the Doctor made love to her. He eventually loosened his hold on her, sliding an arm down into the space in between them, his fingers reaching the dark curls at the join of her legs. She shifted, spreading her legs apart for him as she felt an anticipatory throb, and she sighed as his fingers drifted lightly down into her wetness. She let out a throaty moan as he teased her briefly, his fingers just barely dipping into her opening before dancing forward again, pressing lightly on her clit before drifting upwards. She pulled back from the kiss, opening her eyes in question; the Doctor’s eyes were open, and she felt herself grow lost in their dark intensity.
He moved his hands and lifted her up; bracing her against the door, he shifted until the tip of his erection was resting against her, a gentle twist of his hips ensuring he had found the perfect angle. Holding her gaze, he slowly slid into her, and she felt her eyes close in pleasure.
“My Doctor,” she sighed as he held there, emotion washing over her at the feeling of him finally being inside of her. The discomfort of being pressed against the door was nothing compared to what it felt like to be so intimately joined with him, and she felt her heart clench.
“My Rose.” He pushed harder into her as the intensity of her emotion translated into her pheromones, and she gasped.
“Do it again.” She opened her eyes and looked at him.
He pulled back, only able to go so far with his arms locked under her, and then thrust forward again, his gaze never leaving her face.
“Again. Please,” she whispered, her wrists locked behind his head. He pulled back, this time leaning in to capture her lips in his as he thrust forward; he pulled back before pushing forward again, eventually setting a steady rhythm with his mouth and his hips.
Pinned as she was, she had to resort to using her mouth to encourage him; as she often did, she whispered in his ear, nipping and licking in between words, her lips encouraging him and driving her further towards release. As he grew closer to the brink his pace increased; instead of trying to capture her lips in his, he began whispering words of his own. The TARDIS still refused to translate what it was he said during these times, and Rose lost herself instead in the sound of his voice, the lyrical syllables rolling off his tongue as he whispered into her ear, his meaning clear even if the words weren’t. Harder, faster, his body slammed into hers, and as he found release he drew her name out like a prayer.
She captured his lips in hers, wanting desperately to join him in release, and he continued to pound into her as he snuck a hand down in between their bodies. All it took was one quick flick of his fingers against her clit and she fell after him, her back arching and her head falling back as her teeth clenched, her love for the man who had done this blossoming outwards like a star gone nova. She felt his lips drift onto her neck, soft kisses drifting upwards as she rode the aftershocks of her orgasm. She thought her heart was going to burst when he stopped at her ear, softly whispered something in his native tongue, her name surrounded by the lovely foreign sounds of his language.
I love you, too, she thought before turning and kissing him gently.
They stood, leaning heavily against the door to the TARDIS. In the crash of the adrenaline from sneaking through the flat, and the normal crash from a Doctor-induced orgasm, she was exhausted. She wanted to find a bed and cuddle against the Doctor and fall asleep to the beats of his hearts.
“Lay with me while I take a nap?” she suggested, sleepily, against his neck.
“Hmm?” he mumbled.
“A nap,” she repeated, shoving at him a bit. “Come on, you’re heavy.”
He grunted, rolled off her so they were standing side-by-side, and slid to the floor. “Sure,” he said, yawning as he leaned lightly against her leg. “Let’s take a nap.”
She stared down at him, wide-eyed. “Well, I was thinking we’d nap…in a…Are you going to take a nap?” This would be unprecedented.
“You know what you said to me in the wardrobe?” He suddenly looked fuzzy. “We were in the wardrobe, right?”
She blinked in astonishment. “Yes. You don’t remember?”
“I do. It’s just that it’s fuzzy. It’s all a bit fuzzy after you decided you were going to drive me mad. Losing control.” He shook his head a bit as if to clear it. “That’s bloody exhausting. Is that what it’s like for you every time?”
“Every single time.” She grinned, her heart suddenly overflowing with affection for him.
He shuddered. “Oh, really, stop that.”
She laughed then. “Come on.” She held her hand out to him, and he took it as he stood up. “Let’s go sleep in a bed. I actually am very excited to sleep with you. Are you really going to sleep?”
“I think so, yes. I think I’m actually tired.”
He was adorable. She leaned forward and hugged him suddenly, fiercely.
He hugged her back but sounded bewildered when he said, “What’s this for?”
“Oh, no reason,” she said, while thinking that she loved him.
His breath caught, and he said something that the TARDIS refused to translate. She didn’t think it was an endearment this time. “Now that you’ve figured this out, I don’t have a chance, do I?”
She giggled and then pulled back a bit. “Not really, no.”
He paused. Then he said, “Sooooo,” drawing out the word with exaggerated casualness. “I think we should go take a nap. And then, I think you should, you know, practice this whole thing you’ve stumbled upon.”
“What whole thing?” she asked, innocently.
“This whole control over your pheromones you’ve suddenly discovered.”
“Ah. That. You think I need to practice that? Really? You don’t think I got it quite right the first time around?”
“Wellllll, you know, I like-“
There was a knock on the TARDIS door. She’d forgotten they were still standing next to it. They both jumped, startled.
“Rose?” came her mother’s voice. “You in there?”
The Doctor shook his head violently.
“Did you hear what I said? About quiz night at the pub?” her mother continued.
Rose suddenly gasped in delight. The Doctor looked at her in alarm as she shoved him behind her and poked her head around the door. “Quiz night at the pub? That’s brilliant!”
The Doctor tugged at her hand. She ignored him.
“I thought the Doctor’d be good at it. Could win us a few rounds of drinks. We’re leaving in about an hour. I got those groceries you asked for.”
“Great. Thanks. I’ll come get them a bit later.”
Her mother peered at her suspiciously. “What are you up to, then?”
“Nothing,” said Rose, innocently.
“You’ve got his tie round your neck,” said her mother, sardonically.
Rose looked down, totally forgetting she’d draped it around herself after she’d taken it off him, and blushed. “I’ll tell the Doctor. About quiz night,” she said, and hastily closed the door.
The Doctor looked shocked and displeased. “Quiz night?” he complained.
“Come on, you’ll be brilliant at quiz night!”
“That’s not the point, the point is that, well, I thought we’d…stay in…for the evening.”
“My mother will love you so much if you win her some rounds of drinks at quiz night, and then we’ll stay in.”
“But-“
“And you need my mother to love you, because otherwise she’s gonna kill you and your next regeneration.”
“For what now?” he asked, as if he couldn’t believe Jackie could still manage to find fault with him.
“I’m wearing your tie, I’m pretty sure she suspects there’s something going on that could justify homicide. So. Win her a few drinks at quiz night, and then we can disappear into the Vortex. For days.” Rose draped his tie over his neck and winked at him. “I think I need another shower. You ought to take that nap.” She grinned at him, tongue poking out between her teeth. “You’ve got a long evening ahead of you, you know.” She brushed her hand over his arm as she went by, with a burst of affection.
The Doctor flinched. And then sighed. And then decided he really did need that nap. In preparation for days in the Vortex. And what he thought would turn out to be a pretty torturous-in the best way possible-quiz night.