Doctor Who - Ten/Rose Fic - Part 4 of 6
Title: The Six Stages of a Human Time Lord Biological Metacrisis (Or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Frosting)
Author: Gowdie
Spoilers: Journey’s End, obviously.
Rating: Adult. Unabashedly adult.
Summary: You may have heard this one before. The Doctor learns to adapt. This time with the help of a few fights, a baby TARDIS, love and, eventually, sex.
Author's Note: Yes, this is me, posting Doctor Who smut on my birthday. It's entirely possible I got carried away.
Stage Four: The Untempered Lust
Somewhere, in the back of the Doctor’s mind, he could feel a slight tickle. Well, not a tickle really, more of an itch. Well, not an itch per se, but definitely, definitely a presence. Just there. Way back, deep in the dark recesses that had been quiet for years.
He’d been aware of it ever since the night he started growing the TARDIS, but it wasn’t the ship herself. He supposed it was possible her now dual existence was somehow strengthening the bridge. The link between them. Compensating for whatever he might lack in his part-human form, and simultaneously boosting the telepathic power needed to project across the otherwise impenetrable wall.
Oh, there was no mystery. The Doctor knew exactly who it was. It was him. Himself. He who lived on the other side.
It had been so long, he knew he should be overjoyed to feel anything in that empty space at all. He would have been under any other circumstances, but as it was, it was just, well, him. And there was a universe of difference between a million voices, intertwined into a comforting symphony, and the solo note he was hearing now.
Considering how intensely the Doctor was involved in the process of adapting to this new lifestyle, he didn’t really like the constant reminder of his other self, his other superior self, out there. Every time he was plagued by the slightest doubt or insecurity, and there were many more than he would ever admit, he became conspicuously aware of this beacon… This light? No, this pinstriped placard waving at him. It was a wee bit like being spied on, frankly.
Although, really, he knew he was, to some degree, being abnormally paranoid. It wasn’t like a telephone. He couldn’t ring himself up and have a conversation. It wasn’t that strong. He wasn’t even getting any impression of emotions. He knew, with absolute certainty, that the two-hearted him was very, very lonely right now, but he wasn’t receiving even the slightest echo of grief. Nor anger. Nothing. No, this buzz… This murmur, maybe? Hmmmm. This hum was steady.
For the moment, the Doctor decided he was keeping this particular development to himself. He wasn’t ready to share with Rose. The trouble was, he wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about this whole tickling, placard waving hum situation just yet. How was he supposed to explain it to her? Especially when he had the suspicion it was bound to be a painful conversation. Possibly. Likely. Mildly devastating at the very least.
What he absolutely refused to do, or he should say, what he was trying really, really hard not to do, was to fall into the trap of viewing this phenomenon as some kind of Lord of Time conscience watching over him. That way laid psychological nightmares. Especially considering…
Ahem.
Well, especially considering how much time he had been spending in the shower lately. The upside was he was very, very clean. The downside was he was a deplorable, degenerate, dirty old man. His other self would be horrified. He was horrified. Although, he was also getting pretty good at it.
In nine hundred and four years as a full bodied Time Lord, he had never once felt the need to… To… To take care of himself. Now he was masturbating like he was some randy teenager who had just discovered skin magazines. Only he didn’t need the magazines!
He had danced. And he had moves. Good moves. Choreographed moves of extreme sophistication. He hadn’t lied about that, but it was all a very long time ago. A race that could regenerate and live for centuries, apparently, did not have the quite the same biological imperative as one that could only hang on for a brief eighty or ninety years. And if his own recent decent into sex crazed mania was anything to go by, he suddenly understood exactly how it was that humans managed to propagate themselves so successfully, spreading out into space, and lasting until the end of time.
Rose wasn’t helping, either. When he accidentally hammered his thumb while working on the baby TARDIS, and she sucked the aching digit into her mouth, while making cooing noises, it didn’t help. Every night when she insisted on sitting with her feet under his bum while they read on the couch, it didn’t help. And it really didn’t help when she plunked herself in his lap, removed his specs, and snogged him senseless. He almost lost it in his pants!
Nevertheless, he would prevail. He would not give into temptation until he could be sure it would be a successful enterprise, and not end in mockery. Abject humiliation. He had promised himself to Rose. This was hopefully the start of the last relationship they both would ever have. He wanted to be a good lover, not one who lost all sense and dignity the moment she touched him. It was a mantra he repeated to himself often.
But it was also a mantra he completely forgot when he walked into the house one Saturday afternoon, back from the barn in time for tea, and he found Rose crawling all over the living room floor, picking up stray pieces of giant Lego.
“Hey,” she called, over her shoulder as she dug under a chair. “Mum and Pete decided to go on a last minute mini-break. Some fancy hotel. I said we’d sit Tony for the night.”
“Mmmhmm,” he said. He didn’t register a word she’d said. He was too entranced by the pink pants she was wearing, and the way they stretched over her perfectly shaped backside.
He was just wondering how it would feel to take her by the hips, pulling her back onto him, when Rose abruptly turned her head, took in his gaze and asked a bit incredulously, “Are you staring at my bum?”
“Oh yes.” The whisper escaped him before he’d had a chance to think. Well, there you had it, frank honesty.
But Rose was standing, looking a bit shocked, what with the way her mouth was hanging open and all, and he suddenly realized the consequences of his words. Just as he also suddenly realized the physiological consequence of staring at said bum for so long and allowing his mind to wander off. Looking at Rose now, the way her brain was obviously calculating, the way she licked her lips and let her eyes wander over him, it was a bit like looking into the Untempered Schism so long ago, and there was only one logical response, really.
Run.
“I… I… I… Hmmmmm, yes, Baby TARDIS!” And he was out the door.
~ ~ ~
When the Doctor decided it was safe to return, hours later, he had missed supper. Rose and Tony were sitting at the kitchen table, as the boy finished the last of his fish and chips. One of the few menu items the child would eat without fuss.
The second the Doctor walked in the door, Rose got up from her seat, glaring at him. “I’m going to have some of my own time to myself, while you put Tony to bed.” She kissed and hugged the boy goodnight, before adding, “Come see me in my room when you’re done. We need to talk.”
Tony regarded the Doctor’s worried expression. “Are you in trouble?”
“Yes, I think so,” he answered, with a fairly dramatic sigh.
Tony offered him a chip. The Doctor accepted. Men had to stick together.
It was perhaps this idea of camaraderie that inspired him to teach Tony how to pee standing up after his bath. He told him to lift the seat and then talked him through it. “You have to aim, aim is important, down into the bowl. Alright. No, higher. Opps, little lower. Bullseye! Well done.” After further instructions on putting the seat back down, “Your mother will kill me if you don’t,” they shared a congratulatory high five, before both washing their hands.
Tony was so enamoured, he insisted that he had to go three more times before getting into bed. And the Doctor, who really, truly, believed that the third visit would be impossible, had to give the boy credit for the fact that he did manage to eek out at least a squirt on each attempt.
Teeth brushed, pajamas donned, the Doctor tried to extend the bonding time for as long as possible by reading through Babbity Rabbity and Her Crackling Stump twice, complete with voices. But as he finished the last page, for the second round, Tony’s eyes began to droop, and the Doctor realized it was time. Time for lights out. Time to face the music.
As he made his way to the opposite side of the house, hands deep in his pockets, he wondered vaguely which particular offense it was that had landed him in what was going to be his first truly domestic quarrel. Being late? Falling down on shared child care? Or general all round asshattery?
When he reached her door, the Doctor stood a few feet outside, tentatively calling,
“Rose?”
“Come in,” she responded, not bothering to get up from wherever she was hiding, which the Doctor took as a decidedly bad sign.
Taking a deep breath, he walked inside, trying not to be too obvious about the fact that he was mentally bracing himself. He heard the door close behind him and turned. There was Rose, leaning against the wood and effectively baring his only means of escape, but not in the way he’d expected.
She was wearing a simple pink chemise, which hung so low, well, he hadn’t seen that much of her cleavage, that tantalizing dip between her breasts, since she’d been possessed by Cassandra. His eyes, traitorous sensory organs, slowly slid lower, to take in the way the silk ended near the top of her thighs, leaving lovely naked legs that traveled all the way to the ground. And back up again. And down. And back up.
He swallowed and tried to breathe. Her appearance was seductive, obviously, but more beautiful than anything else. She was simply Rose.
When he finally got around to looking at her face again she smiled, and waved. “Hello.”
The familiar innocent greeting snapped the Doctor back to his senses. “Now, that’s… That’s… That’s… This isn’t fair!”
She grinned, sticking her tongue between her teeth, looking absolutely delighted. “Wasn’t trying to be fair.”
Rose started to slowly move across the room towards him. “You know what I think? I think you want me, very, very badly. And I’m sorry I didn’t notice it sooner, but I’m not used to it, from you.”
That little confession made him feel the need to apologize, again. During their travels together, it wasn’t that he’d failed to notice her sexuality. It was more he’d failed to notice his own. “I’m…”
“Shhhhh.” Standing before him now, she reached forward and pulled slowly on his tie. “What I don’t understand is why you keep running away.”
Oh he wanted to kiss her. Devour her. Panicking the Doctor tugged away and started pacing the room. He looked at her, as adorable confusion started to form in her eyes. No, best to look somewhere else. Anywhere else. He began tugging at his hair for good measure. “Rose.” It was all he could manage. He tried to put a hint of warning in the word, but wasn’t sure he’d pulled it off.
She frowned, and or the first time a light frustration laced her words, “You said you danced before.”
“I have!” He stopped. This was awful. “But this body, I have no control. And I don’t mean that figuratively. Really, literally, almost none.”
Apparently thinking she was back in charge of the situation, Rose looked a bit smug. “Well that’s no so bad. I was kinda hoping you’d lose control.”
The Doctor stopped pacing for a moment to wave his arms about a bit to make his point. “Truly. Hormones raging, out of my mind with frenzied lust, no control.”
She bit her lip, holding in a giggle. “Still not complaining.”
“Rose,” he said aghast, “it’s disgusting.”
Now she did giggle. “You’re scared.”
“I most certainly am not scared.”
She approached him, timidly, and softly answered. “Yeah, you are.” She took his hand. “Do you think I’m not scared.”
He hadn’t. He really hadn’t been thinking about anything other than his own unnatural reactions. “Why are you scared?”
Her lips turned up, and she shrugged. “Because it’s you.”
He was so stunned, the Doctor stood completely still, unable to move. Why would she ever be afraid of him?
“It’s like when I first came with you, yeah?” Rose’s hands slowly traveled up his arms. “I’d seen the Autons, and a time machine that was bigger on the inside. I thought I knew what I was getting into. And I wanted it.” Deft little fingers started undoing his tie. “But then I was suddenly surrounded by all different kinds of aliens. And saw my whole planet destroyed. I needed to take a step back. Take a breath.”
He felt his tie being pulled from his collar. “Eat chips,” the Doctor added softly.
Rose smiled and slowly started sliding buttons open along his shirt. “I love you. I wanted to be with you forever. And I understood what that would be like. And it didn’t include this.” To emphasize her point, she ran her hands up chest, over his shoulders and started pushing his shirt down and off. “That was okay, because you meant everything to me.”
The Doctor’s hands now free of his sleeves, Rose lifted his arms up to pull his vest over his head. “On that beach,” she said, “all of a sudden you were promising me so much more. I leapt at it. Instantly.” Her eyes were fixed on his body, as her fingertips drew light swirling patterns in the hair on his chest and stomach. “But then, when we got home, it kind of overwhelmed me again. Because it means that you’re different. We’re gonna be different. Wonderful, but different. And I needed to step back again and take another breath. Do you know what I decided?”
His answer was barely a breath of sound. “What?”
Rose lifted her head, meeting his eyes, practically daring him to look away. “I want you. All of you. Very, very badly. And I’m scared to death.” Her hands moved down to the button on his trousers, slipping it open. “But it’s worth it, because you’re still everything to me. Even more than before.” His zipper started dragging down. “It’s going to be amazing. Hormonal lust crazed loss of control and all.”
When she started easing his trousers past his hips, he stopped her hands. “Rose?”
“Yes, Doctor?”
He made a decision, a big one, huge, ginormous really, and he told her the only way he knew how, “I’m ready to lick the frosting.”
Rose’s smile lit up her face. “S’about time.”
Finally, she leaned forward as though she were going to kiss him. Instead, though, she ran the tip of her nose along his. He could feel her breath on his face as he waited. She moved only slightly closer, letting her tongue barely brush against his top lip, before she pulled back.
The Doctor groaned, not being able to stand it anymore and pulled her body to his, capturing her mouth. He had the distinct impression she was smiling against him. As his tongue explored, along the back of her teeth, the roof of her mouth, she encouraged him backwards. When they reached the bed, she pushed down on his shoulders, silently ordering him to sit.
As the Doctor watched, Rose knelt before him, unlacing and removing his trainers, plucking off his socks, pulling his trousers down and off his legs. She pressed her palms against the back of his calves, and slowly dragged them up around his knees, over his thighs, until she found him already fully hard and straining. She cupped him through his pants, pressing down in a firm squeeze.
“Rose,” he gulped. “I’m not… I’m not going to last.”
“S’alright.” She placed an affectionate kiss on his knee. “Don’t want you to worry. Trust in me.”
And he did. More than anything else, he did, but she wasn’t making this easy on him. Thankfully she released him, giving him a moment of relief to try to regain some semblance of control. He lifted himself up on his elbows to watch her gingerly lifting the elastic band of his pants up and over his erection, and discarding them with the rest of his clothes.
Then, for the first time in his life, the Doctor felt Rose Tyler’s skin against his cock, as she danced light fingertips along his length. He fell back to the bed with a groan, gripping the sheets. Gods. Gods he didn’t even believe in, please have some mercy on him. He didn’t want to come yet. Please. He knew what she had in mind, and more than anything in this universe, or any other parallel universe, he wanted to feel her mouth on him. That luscious sweet mouth, whose smile was always enough to make him delightfully happy. Please!
“Doctor, look at me.”
Her voice, he could never deny her anything, even if it might kill him. With a great deal of effort, he pushed himself back up again. Holding his gaze, she slipped the straps of her chemise over her shoulders and let it fall to her waist, exposing her breasts. Beautiful. Breathtakingly beautiful.
“Rose.” His voice cracked. “Please.”
She wrapped one hand wrapped around his girth, moving up and down, as her tongue finally touched him, laving the ridge, gliding around the tip. Plump lips surrounded him, taking just the head into her mouth, sucking gently, as her tongue continued to swirl.
He reached forward, fisting a hand into her hair, as his head tilted back and his eyes squeezed shut. Every breath was a shallow gasp, barely drawing enough air into his lungs.
“Doctor,” she called, releasing him, only to lick hungrily, all the way from base to tip.
“I can’t,” he panted.
“Doctor,” she called him again.
He opened his eyes, just in time to watch himself disappear almost completely into the depths of her mouth. He was lost to sensation. Hand stroking. Lips sliding. Mouth sucking hard. Dragging him closer. Closer. So close. Yes… Yes… Guh… Yes…
Ahhh… Ooh! He came, shouting as a wave of pleasure was pulled down from his head, up from his toes, in from his fingers, and out through his cock in a giant rush of release.
As his breathing returned to normal, he became aware of Rose, snuggled up beside him, drawing lazy patterns across his chest, and watching him. He tucked her hair behind her ear and pressed his palm against her cheek. “I warned you. Not very impressive.”
“Are you kidding?” she asked, looking astounded. “I loved it.” She leaned forward, kissing him gently.
He swallowed. “Rose, I want… I want more.”
She giggled and nudged her forehead against his. “Oh, we’re not done yet.”
He made a pleased sounding, “Hmmmm,” in the back of his throat, caressing the backs of his knuckles over her shoulder, down her arm, and up over the curve of her breast. “Good.”
“Where should we start?” she asked, arching a little, pushing her chest against his fingers.
The Doctor turned his hand, enjoying the heat of her flesh against his palm, teasing a nipple with his thumb. “I think I want to taste you. All of you. Every inch.”
“I think we should def… Definitely encourage that impulse,” she said, before biting her bottom lip.
She breathed in, as he lunged slightly, capturing the lip between his own teeth, before delving into her mouth in a long searing kiss. He clasped a hand around her neck as he moved along her jaw, and down her throat to find her pulse and sucking long and hard. Slowly he moved, dipping his tongue into the hollow of her throat, tasting the sweat that had gathered there. He teased her, raining kisses all over her upper chest, and around the swell, before finally licking under the curve of each breast.
He reveled in the sweet softness of her skin. She tasted divine. He could categorize and analyze each chemical and hormone, but he decided he preferred to simply think of her distinct tang as Rose. The magnificent flavour of Rose.
As he traveled up her left breast, she wrapped her arms around his head, holding him steady. Taking the obvious hint, he made sure to pay equal attention to each nipple, laving and pulling them between his lips, encouraging each to a peak before moving on.
He gloried in her flat stomach, placing long open mouth kisses, and tickling her navel with his breath and tongue.
The Doctor moved down the bed, and placed his upper body between Rose’s open legs. When he reached the join at her hip, she lifted her knees, raising her legs around his head. He grinned to himself and started kissing down her legs causing impatient hands to start tugging at his hair. “Every inch, Rose,” he smiled against her thigh.
“Want you now, my ankles can wait,” she pleaded.
“But I love your ankles,” he chuckled. He really was magnificently cruel sometimes.
“Doctor,” she moaned, “you’re being rude again.”
“I am not,” he responded, doing his best to sound hurt. “I am worshiping you like a divine goddess. You really ought to get into the spirit of the thing.”
“Not doing as your goddess asks, is being rude,” she insisted.
The Doctor smiled, heartily impressed that she could make such a logical argument. That deserved a reward. “Just to be clear,” he said asked cheekily, “this is what you want?” He gave a long lick with the flat of his tongue over her folds.
“Oh god,” she choked.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckled. The Doctor set about his task with all the enthusiasm of a man with a deeply ingrained oral fixation. He laved over her lips with slow gentle strokes, occasionally dipping into her centre, getting just the slightest bit closer to her clit with each pass. After several minutes, and many wondrous encouraging noises from Rose, he started to circle the hardening nub. Swirling around and around, barely ghosting over the tiny pleasure point itself.
When Rose begged, “Please,” he pressed his mouth down, tenderly suckling where she wanted him.
Rose scratched at his shoulders, panting, “More.” He responded by sliding first one, then two fingers deep inside. As she bucked around him, the Doctor realized how hard he was getting again, feeling against his hand the part of Rose where he was now desperate to bury himself. He curled his fingers in rhythm with his mouth, trying to pull her over the edge as she had done for him.
Her fingers deep in his hair, Rose arched her back, calling his name. He felt her muscles clenching down on him over and over and over.
When she stilled, the Doctor crawled up her body. He lovingly pushed strands of hair away from her face, as she lay, breathing heavy and clutching his arm. He wanted to be patient, but he was also near frantic to be inside her.
After a minute, Rose opened her eyes and smiled at him. She seemed to sense his need, as she turned her body to her side, facing him and wrapped her leg around his waist. “Okay,” she whispered, as she took him in hand and guided him to her entrance.
The Doctor held on for dear life as each inch slid into her welcoming body. Once fully sheathed, he gulped, nearly undone, feeling her surround him. This was going to be over way too fast. “I’m sorry,” he started to say.
Rose silenced him with a kiss. “I told you,” she whispered against his mouth, “I want you to let go.”
He nodded, incapable of coherent speech. He rolled her over to her back, and started to move.
All he was aware of was hot, and wet, and tight, and oh so brilliant. He grabbed the headboard, and dug his feet into the sheets, desperate for any leverage. His thrusts were erratic, burying himself as deep as he could go. He huffed and groaned with each push forward. He never wanted this to stop, never, ever, ever, but he knew each time his hips plunged he was closer to the end. He felt like he was losing his mind, and he started to chant the name of the one thing he would always believe in, “Rose. Rose. Rose. Rose.”
She was moving under him, saying his name back to him. And then he was coming, coming, coming, and pouring into her body.
Legs and arms were tangled, sweaty bodies pressed as tightly as possible. Rose was stroking fingers in his hair and kissing his face. He loved her, loved her, loved her. He never wanted to be parted from her. Not for anything. And if there were some way they could manage to stay in this very bed for the rest for their lives, that would be fantastic.
Human sex was, in a word, brilliant.
Next Chapter: Stage Five: The Fear Vortex
Previous Chapters:
Stage One: Babbling For Your Life
Stage Two: The Oncoming Tantrum
Stage Three: A Few Bits and Bobs
Author: Gowdie
Spoilers: Journey’s End, obviously.
Rating: Adult. Unabashedly adult.
Summary: You may have heard this one before. The Doctor learns to adapt. This time with the help of a few fights, a baby TARDIS, love and, eventually, sex.
Author's Note: Yes, this is me, posting Doctor Who smut on my birthday. It's entirely possible I got carried away.
Stage Four: The Untempered Lust
Somewhere, in the back of the Doctor’s mind, he could feel a slight tickle. Well, not a tickle really, more of an itch. Well, not an itch per se, but definitely, definitely a presence. Just there. Way back, deep in the dark recesses that had been quiet for years.
He’d been aware of it ever since the night he started growing the TARDIS, but it wasn’t the ship herself. He supposed it was possible her now dual existence was somehow strengthening the bridge. The link between them. Compensating for whatever he might lack in his part-human form, and simultaneously boosting the telepathic power needed to project across the otherwise impenetrable wall.
Oh, there was no mystery. The Doctor knew exactly who it was. It was him. Himself. He who lived on the other side.
It had been so long, he knew he should be overjoyed to feel anything in that empty space at all. He would have been under any other circumstances, but as it was, it was just, well, him. And there was a universe of difference between a million voices, intertwined into a comforting symphony, and the solo note he was hearing now.
Considering how intensely the Doctor was involved in the process of adapting to this new lifestyle, he didn’t really like the constant reminder of his other self, his other superior self, out there. Every time he was plagued by the slightest doubt or insecurity, and there were many more than he would ever admit, he became conspicuously aware of this beacon… This light? No, this pinstriped placard waving at him. It was a wee bit like being spied on, frankly.
Although, really, he knew he was, to some degree, being abnormally paranoid. It wasn’t like a telephone. He couldn’t ring himself up and have a conversation. It wasn’t that strong. He wasn’t even getting any impression of emotions. He knew, with absolute certainty, that the two-hearted him was very, very lonely right now, but he wasn’t receiving even the slightest echo of grief. Nor anger. Nothing. No, this buzz… This murmur, maybe? Hmmmm. This hum was steady.
For the moment, the Doctor decided he was keeping this particular development to himself. He wasn’t ready to share with Rose. The trouble was, he wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about this whole tickling, placard waving hum situation just yet. How was he supposed to explain it to her? Especially when he had the suspicion it was bound to be a painful conversation. Possibly. Likely. Mildly devastating at the very least.
What he absolutely refused to do, or he should say, what he was trying really, really hard not to do, was to fall into the trap of viewing this phenomenon as some kind of Lord of Time conscience watching over him. That way laid psychological nightmares. Especially considering…
Ahem.
Well, especially considering how much time he had been spending in the shower lately. The upside was he was very, very clean. The downside was he was a deplorable, degenerate, dirty old man. His other self would be horrified. He was horrified. Although, he was also getting pretty good at it.
In nine hundred and four years as a full bodied Time Lord, he had never once felt the need to… To… To take care of himself. Now he was masturbating like he was some randy teenager who had just discovered skin magazines. Only he didn’t need the magazines!
He had danced. And he had moves. Good moves. Choreographed moves of extreme sophistication. He hadn’t lied about that, but it was all a very long time ago. A race that could regenerate and live for centuries, apparently, did not have the quite the same biological imperative as one that could only hang on for a brief eighty or ninety years. And if his own recent decent into sex crazed mania was anything to go by, he suddenly understood exactly how it was that humans managed to propagate themselves so successfully, spreading out into space, and lasting until the end of time.
Rose wasn’t helping, either. When he accidentally hammered his thumb while working on the baby TARDIS, and she sucked the aching digit into her mouth, while making cooing noises, it didn’t help. Every night when she insisted on sitting with her feet under his bum while they read on the couch, it didn’t help. And it really didn’t help when she plunked herself in his lap, removed his specs, and snogged him senseless. He almost lost it in his pants!
Nevertheless, he would prevail. He would not give into temptation until he could be sure it would be a successful enterprise, and not end in mockery. Abject humiliation. He had promised himself to Rose. This was hopefully the start of the last relationship they both would ever have. He wanted to be a good lover, not one who lost all sense and dignity the moment she touched him. It was a mantra he repeated to himself often.
But it was also a mantra he completely forgot when he walked into the house one Saturday afternoon, back from the barn in time for tea, and he found Rose crawling all over the living room floor, picking up stray pieces of giant Lego.
“Hey,” she called, over her shoulder as she dug under a chair. “Mum and Pete decided to go on a last minute mini-break. Some fancy hotel. I said we’d sit Tony for the night.”
“Mmmhmm,” he said. He didn’t register a word she’d said. He was too entranced by the pink pants she was wearing, and the way they stretched over her perfectly shaped backside.
He was just wondering how it would feel to take her by the hips, pulling her back onto him, when Rose abruptly turned her head, took in his gaze and asked a bit incredulously, “Are you staring at my bum?”
“Oh yes.” The whisper escaped him before he’d had a chance to think. Well, there you had it, frank honesty.
But Rose was standing, looking a bit shocked, what with the way her mouth was hanging open and all, and he suddenly realized the consequences of his words. Just as he also suddenly realized the physiological consequence of staring at said bum for so long and allowing his mind to wander off. Looking at Rose now, the way her brain was obviously calculating, the way she licked her lips and let her eyes wander over him, it was a bit like looking into the Untempered Schism so long ago, and there was only one logical response, really.
Run.
“I… I… I… Hmmmmm, yes, Baby TARDIS!” And he was out the door.
~ ~ ~
When the Doctor decided it was safe to return, hours later, he had missed supper. Rose and Tony were sitting at the kitchen table, as the boy finished the last of his fish and chips. One of the few menu items the child would eat without fuss.
The second the Doctor walked in the door, Rose got up from her seat, glaring at him. “I’m going to have some of my own time to myself, while you put Tony to bed.” She kissed and hugged the boy goodnight, before adding, “Come see me in my room when you’re done. We need to talk.”
Tony regarded the Doctor’s worried expression. “Are you in trouble?”
“Yes, I think so,” he answered, with a fairly dramatic sigh.
Tony offered him a chip. The Doctor accepted. Men had to stick together.
It was perhaps this idea of camaraderie that inspired him to teach Tony how to pee standing up after his bath. He told him to lift the seat and then talked him through it. “You have to aim, aim is important, down into the bowl. Alright. No, higher. Opps, little lower. Bullseye! Well done.” After further instructions on putting the seat back down, “Your mother will kill me if you don’t,” they shared a congratulatory high five, before both washing their hands.
Tony was so enamoured, he insisted that he had to go three more times before getting into bed. And the Doctor, who really, truly, believed that the third visit would be impossible, had to give the boy credit for the fact that he did manage to eek out at least a squirt on each attempt.
Teeth brushed, pajamas donned, the Doctor tried to extend the bonding time for as long as possible by reading through Babbity Rabbity and Her Crackling Stump twice, complete with voices. But as he finished the last page, for the second round, Tony’s eyes began to droop, and the Doctor realized it was time. Time for lights out. Time to face the music.
As he made his way to the opposite side of the house, hands deep in his pockets, he wondered vaguely which particular offense it was that had landed him in what was going to be his first truly domestic quarrel. Being late? Falling down on shared child care? Or general all round asshattery?
When he reached her door, the Doctor stood a few feet outside, tentatively calling,
“Rose?”
“Come in,” she responded, not bothering to get up from wherever she was hiding, which the Doctor took as a decidedly bad sign.
Taking a deep breath, he walked inside, trying not to be too obvious about the fact that he was mentally bracing himself. He heard the door close behind him and turned. There was Rose, leaning against the wood and effectively baring his only means of escape, but not in the way he’d expected.
She was wearing a simple pink chemise, which hung so low, well, he hadn’t seen that much of her cleavage, that tantalizing dip between her breasts, since she’d been possessed by Cassandra. His eyes, traitorous sensory organs, slowly slid lower, to take in the way the silk ended near the top of her thighs, leaving lovely naked legs that traveled all the way to the ground. And back up again. And down. And back up.
He swallowed and tried to breathe. Her appearance was seductive, obviously, but more beautiful than anything else. She was simply Rose.
When he finally got around to looking at her face again she smiled, and waved. “Hello.”
The familiar innocent greeting snapped the Doctor back to his senses. “Now, that’s… That’s… That’s… This isn’t fair!”
She grinned, sticking her tongue between her teeth, looking absolutely delighted. “Wasn’t trying to be fair.”
Rose started to slowly move across the room towards him. “You know what I think? I think you want me, very, very badly. And I’m sorry I didn’t notice it sooner, but I’m not used to it, from you.”
That little confession made him feel the need to apologize, again. During their travels together, it wasn’t that he’d failed to notice her sexuality. It was more he’d failed to notice his own. “I’m…”
“Shhhhh.” Standing before him now, she reached forward and pulled slowly on his tie. “What I don’t understand is why you keep running away.”
Oh he wanted to kiss her. Devour her. Panicking the Doctor tugged away and started pacing the room. He looked at her, as adorable confusion started to form in her eyes. No, best to look somewhere else. Anywhere else. He began tugging at his hair for good measure. “Rose.” It was all he could manage. He tried to put a hint of warning in the word, but wasn’t sure he’d pulled it off.
She frowned, and or the first time a light frustration laced her words, “You said you danced before.”
“I have!” He stopped. This was awful. “But this body, I have no control. And I don’t mean that figuratively. Really, literally, almost none.”
Apparently thinking she was back in charge of the situation, Rose looked a bit smug. “Well that’s no so bad. I was kinda hoping you’d lose control.”
The Doctor stopped pacing for a moment to wave his arms about a bit to make his point. “Truly. Hormones raging, out of my mind with frenzied lust, no control.”
She bit her lip, holding in a giggle. “Still not complaining.”
“Rose,” he said aghast, “it’s disgusting.”
Now she did giggle. “You’re scared.”
“I most certainly am not scared.”
She approached him, timidly, and softly answered. “Yeah, you are.” She took his hand. “Do you think I’m not scared.”
He hadn’t. He really hadn’t been thinking about anything other than his own unnatural reactions. “Why are you scared?”
Her lips turned up, and she shrugged. “Because it’s you.”
He was so stunned, the Doctor stood completely still, unable to move. Why would she ever be afraid of him?
“It’s like when I first came with you, yeah?” Rose’s hands slowly traveled up his arms. “I’d seen the Autons, and a time machine that was bigger on the inside. I thought I knew what I was getting into. And I wanted it.” Deft little fingers started undoing his tie. “But then I was suddenly surrounded by all different kinds of aliens. And saw my whole planet destroyed. I needed to take a step back. Take a breath.”
He felt his tie being pulled from his collar. “Eat chips,” the Doctor added softly.
Rose smiled and slowly started sliding buttons open along his shirt. “I love you. I wanted to be with you forever. And I understood what that would be like. And it didn’t include this.” To emphasize her point, she ran her hands up chest, over his shoulders and started pushing his shirt down and off. “That was okay, because you meant everything to me.”
The Doctor’s hands now free of his sleeves, Rose lifted his arms up to pull his vest over his head. “On that beach,” she said, “all of a sudden you were promising me so much more. I leapt at it. Instantly.” Her eyes were fixed on his body, as her fingertips drew light swirling patterns in the hair on his chest and stomach. “But then, when we got home, it kind of overwhelmed me again. Because it means that you’re different. We’re gonna be different. Wonderful, but different. And I needed to step back again and take another breath. Do you know what I decided?”
His answer was barely a breath of sound. “What?”
Rose lifted her head, meeting his eyes, practically daring him to look away. “I want you. All of you. Very, very badly. And I’m scared to death.” Her hands moved down to the button on his trousers, slipping it open. “But it’s worth it, because you’re still everything to me. Even more than before.” His zipper started dragging down. “It’s going to be amazing. Hormonal lust crazed loss of control and all.”
When she started easing his trousers past his hips, he stopped her hands. “Rose?”
“Yes, Doctor?”
He made a decision, a big one, huge, ginormous really, and he told her the only way he knew how, “I’m ready to lick the frosting.”
Rose’s smile lit up her face. “S’about time.”
Finally, she leaned forward as though she were going to kiss him. Instead, though, she ran the tip of her nose along his. He could feel her breath on his face as he waited. She moved only slightly closer, letting her tongue barely brush against his top lip, before she pulled back.
The Doctor groaned, not being able to stand it anymore and pulled her body to his, capturing her mouth. He had the distinct impression she was smiling against him. As his tongue explored, along the back of her teeth, the roof of her mouth, she encouraged him backwards. When they reached the bed, she pushed down on his shoulders, silently ordering him to sit.
As the Doctor watched, Rose knelt before him, unlacing and removing his trainers, plucking off his socks, pulling his trousers down and off his legs. She pressed her palms against the back of his calves, and slowly dragged them up around his knees, over his thighs, until she found him already fully hard and straining. She cupped him through his pants, pressing down in a firm squeeze.
“Rose,” he gulped. “I’m not… I’m not going to last.”
“S’alright.” She placed an affectionate kiss on his knee. “Don’t want you to worry. Trust in me.”
And he did. More than anything else, he did, but she wasn’t making this easy on him. Thankfully she released him, giving him a moment of relief to try to regain some semblance of control. He lifted himself up on his elbows to watch her gingerly lifting the elastic band of his pants up and over his erection, and discarding them with the rest of his clothes.
Then, for the first time in his life, the Doctor felt Rose Tyler’s skin against his cock, as she danced light fingertips along his length. He fell back to the bed with a groan, gripping the sheets. Gods. Gods he didn’t even believe in, please have some mercy on him. He didn’t want to come yet. Please. He knew what she had in mind, and more than anything in this universe, or any other parallel universe, he wanted to feel her mouth on him. That luscious sweet mouth, whose smile was always enough to make him delightfully happy. Please!
“Doctor, look at me.”
Her voice, he could never deny her anything, even if it might kill him. With a great deal of effort, he pushed himself back up again. Holding his gaze, she slipped the straps of her chemise over her shoulders and let it fall to her waist, exposing her breasts. Beautiful. Breathtakingly beautiful.
“Rose.” His voice cracked. “Please.”
She wrapped one hand wrapped around his girth, moving up and down, as her tongue finally touched him, laving the ridge, gliding around the tip. Plump lips surrounded him, taking just the head into her mouth, sucking gently, as her tongue continued to swirl.
He reached forward, fisting a hand into her hair, as his head tilted back and his eyes squeezed shut. Every breath was a shallow gasp, barely drawing enough air into his lungs.
“Doctor,” she called, releasing him, only to lick hungrily, all the way from base to tip.
“I can’t,” he panted.
“Doctor,” she called him again.
He opened his eyes, just in time to watch himself disappear almost completely into the depths of her mouth. He was lost to sensation. Hand stroking. Lips sliding. Mouth sucking hard. Dragging him closer. Closer. So close. Yes… Yes… Guh… Yes…
Ahhh… Ooh! He came, shouting as a wave of pleasure was pulled down from his head, up from his toes, in from his fingers, and out through his cock in a giant rush of release.
As his breathing returned to normal, he became aware of Rose, snuggled up beside him, drawing lazy patterns across his chest, and watching him. He tucked her hair behind her ear and pressed his palm against her cheek. “I warned you. Not very impressive.”
“Are you kidding?” she asked, looking astounded. “I loved it.” She leaned forward, kissing him gently.
He swallowed. “Rose, I want… I want more.”
She giggled and nudged her forehead against his. “Oh, we’re not done yet.”
He made a pleased sounding, “Hmmmm,” in the back of his throat, caressing the backs of his knuckles over her shoulder, down her arm, and up over the curve of her breast. “Good.”
“Where should we start?” she asked, arching a little, pushing her chest against his fingers.
The Doctor turned his hand, enjoying the heat of her flesh against his palm, teasing a nipple with his thumb. “I think I want to taste you. All of you. Every inch.”
“I think we should def… Definitely encourage that impulse,” she said, before biting her bottom lip.
She breathed in, as he lunged slightly, capturing the lip between his own teeth, before delving into her mouth in a long searing kiss. He clasped a hand around her neck as he moved along her jaw, and down her throat to find her pulse and sucking long and hard. Slowly he moved, dipping his tongue into the hollow of her throat, tasting the sweat that had gathered there. He teased her, raining kisses all over her upper chest, and around the swell, before finally licking under the curve of each breast.
He reveled in the sweet softness of her skin. She tasted divine. He could categorize and analyze each chemical and hormone, but he decided he preferred to simply think of her distinct tang as Rose. The magnificent flavour of Rose.
As he traveled up her left breast, she wrapped her arms around his head, holding him steady. Taking the obvious hint, he made sure to pay equal attention to each nipple, laving and pulling them between his lips, encouraging each to a peak before moving on.
He gloried in her flat stomach, placing long open mouth kisses, and tickling her navel with his breath and tongue.
The Doctor moved down the bed, and placed his upper body between Rose’s open legs. When he reached the join at her hip, she lifted her knees, raising her legs around his head. He grinned to himself and started kissing down her legs causing impatient hands to start tugging at his hair. “Every inch, Rose,” he smiled against her thigh.
“Want you now, my ankles can wait,” she pleaded.
“But I love your ankles,” he chuckled. He really was magnificently cruel sometimes.
“Doctor,” she moaned, “you’re being rude again.”
“I am not,” he responded, doing his best to sound hurt. “I am worshiping you like a divine goddess. You really ought to get into the spirit of the thing.”
“Not doing as your goddess asks, is being rude,” she insisted.
The Doctor smiled, heartily impressed that she could make such a logical argument. That deserved a reward. “Just to be clear,” he said asked cheekily, “this is what you want?” He gave a long lick with the flat of his tongue over her folds.
“Oh god,” she choked.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckled. The Doctor set about his task with all the enthusiasm of a man with a deeply ingrained oral fixation. He laved over her lips with slow gentle strokes, occasionally dipping into her centre, getting just the slightest bit closer to her clit with each pass. After several minutes, and many wondrous encouraging noises from Rose, he started to circle the hardening nub. Swirling around and around, barely ghosting over the tiny pleasure point itself.
When Rose begged, “Please,” he pressed his mouth down, tenderly suckling where she wanted him.
Rose scratched at his shoulders, panting, “More.” He responded by sliding first one, then two fingers deep inside. As she bucked around him, the Doctor realized how hard he was getting again, feeling against his hand the part of Rose where he was now desperate to bury himself. He curled his fingers in rhythm with his mouth, trying to pull her over the edge as she had done for him.
Her fingers deep in his hair, Rose arched her back, calling his name. He felt her muscles clenching down on him over and over and over.
When she stilled, the Doctor crawled up her body. He lovingly pushed strands of hair away from her face, as she lay, breathing heavy and clutching his arm. He wanted to be patient, but he was also near frantic to be inside her.
After a minute, Rose opened her eyes and smiled at him. She seemed to sense his need, as she turned her body to her side, facing him and wrapped her leg around his waist. “Okay,” she whispered, as she took him in hand and guided him to her entrance.
The Doctor held on for dear life as each inch slid into her welcoming body. Once fully sheathed, he gulped, nearly undone, feeling her surround him. This was going to be over way too fast. “I’m sorry,” he started to say.
Rose silenced him with a kiss. “I told you,” she whispered against his mouth, “I want you to let go.”
He nodded, incapable of coherent speech. He rolled her over to her back, and started to move.
All he was aware of was hot, and wet, and tight, and oh so brilliant. He grabbed the headboard, and dug his feet into the sheets, desperate for any leverage. His thrusts were erratic, burying himself as deep as he could go. He huffed and groaned with each push forward. He never wanted this to stop, never, ever, ever, but he knew each time his hips plunged he was closer to the end. He felt like he was losing his mind, and he started to chant the name of the one thing he would always believe in, “Rose. Rose. Rose. Rose.”
She was moving under him, saying his name back to him. And then he was coming, coming, coming, and pouring into her body.
Legs and arms were tangled, sweaty bodies pressed as tightly as possible. Rose was stroking fingers in his hair and kissing his face. He loved her, loved her, loved her. He never wanted to be parted from her. Not for anything. And if there were some way they could manage to stay in this very bed for the rest for their lives, that would be fantastic.
Human sex was, in a word, brilliant.
Next Chapter: Stage Five: The Fear Vortex
Previous Chapters:
Stage One: Babbling For Your Life
Stage Two: The Oncoming Tantrum
Stage Three: A Few Bits and Bobs