And So Things Go, Chapter 16
Title- And So Things Go (16/34)
Author- jlrpuck
Rating - M
Pairing - Peter Carlisle/Rose Tyler
Disclaimer - Characters from Blackpool and Doctor Who are the property of the BBC, and are used with the greatest of love and respect; no profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Summary - The story of how Peter Carlisle moved to London to live with Rose Tyler.
Author’s Notes - Rose and Peter share a weekend away from Kendal.
earlgreytea68 and chicklet73 have been ideal betas for this-supportive, diligent, and full of excellent ideas. lostwolfchats has been fabulous, as well, and equally as invaluable, ensuring that I didn’t ruin the Queen’s English…too badly. Any errors-grammatical, colloquial, or factual-are mine, and mine alone. And that lovely banner you see above? That's all angelfireeast.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Epilogue
Rose gnawed her lip, considering various possibilities before coming to a decision. Taking care to disturb the bed as little as possible she rolled over, standing in a fluid motion. Peter didn’t stir; he remained sprawled across the bed, completely oblivious to the morning light filling the room.
Rose tiptoed to the dresser, slowly opening her carryall and extracting a condom. She kept her eyes on Peter as she crossed back to the bed, as she stood next to it and hastily stripped out of her pyjamas. She tossed the clothes aside, kicking her knickers after them.
She watched Peter as a small line appeared between his eyebrows. He might still be asleep, but he was slowly beginning to wake up.
Rose slid back into bed, the sheets cool against her skin, and once more considered her options. It would be impossible to get Peter out of his pyjamas whilst he slept-well, at least without waking him. And the whole point of what she had planned was to wake him slowly, and using a very different method. She’d have to wait until he was awake for that, then.
She slid the condom under the pillow before she shifted, scooting as close to Peter as she could without disturbing him. She leaned forward, placing a light kiss on his nose, her weight resting on her left arm. He shifted, his nose wrinkling, and then relaxed. She smiled, and began to drift gentle kisses over his cheeks, along his brow.
Her right hand splayed across his chest as she moved, trying to kiss every inch of him that she could reach. Peter stirred again, his left hand drifting towards her; she smiled, and began to dance her hand down his sternum, across his stomach.
She moved even closer to Peter, kissing his jaw as her right hand drifted down to stroke him through the fabric of his pyjamas. Peter murmured, the word indistinct, even as his body slowly began to react to her touch.
Rose really wished he’d gone to sleep naked, as he sometimes did.
She shifted, straddling him; her hands now rested on the mattress, supporting her as she leaned forward to continue brushing kisses over his skin. She moved briefly to his ear, teasing the lobe, and she felt Peter take a deep breath.
His hands slowly drifted to her hair, and she heard him ‘hmmm’ softly.
She leaned back, looking at him. His eyes were still closed, but he was semi-conscious.
Rose shifted, sliding her hand down, stroking him again; he let out a sigh at her touch, and she moved to pull down the waist of his pyjamas.
Peter made a noise of complaint, still half-asleep, and she kissed him gently. “Need you out of these,” she whispered, following the statement with a brush of her lips over his ear. He didn’t reply, but drifted his hands to rest on her thighs as she sat upright.
She guided the fabric over his hips, over his erection, wiggling backwards as she pulled the cotton down his legs. She carelessly tossed the fabric to the side, glancing to make sure it hadn’t landed anywhere where it could do damage-a lamp, say-before returning her attention to Peter.
He lay sprawled before her, naked, very much ready for her; she froze, unable to stop staring at him.
He moved, bringing his legs together, and she hurried to crawl up his body, kissing his shins, his knees, his thighs as she went. She brushed the briefest of kisses over his erection before continuing upwards, dragging her tongue across the skin of his stomach, along his chest. She ended by straddling him once more, and placed a chaste kiss on his lips as her left hand slid under the pillow, retrieving the condom.
His hands slid into her hair as he parted his lips, returning her kiss; he was still clumsy from sleep, and she fought down a giggle as she returned his for a moment. She then brushed a quick kiss over his chin before leaning back, sliding her right hand between her and Peter and wrapping it around his erection.
She stroked him, her thumb picking up the moisture at the tip of his penis, her fingers tightening as she stroked upwards. She watched the flush steal across Peter’s skin, could feel him twitching in her hand; she felt an answering twinge deep within her, and could feel her own dampness growing.
She was rapidly reaching the point where she’d need him to play a more active role in their lovemaking.
She stroked him once, twice more, giving a gentle squeeze before releasing him. She paused only long enough to open the condom, to slide it onto him; Peter moved his hands to her hips, slowly opening his eyes and holding her gaze as she made sure the latex was secure around his erection.
Rose gave him a soft smile, then shifted forward, positioning him just so; holding his gaze, she slowly slid onto him. She had to pause to catch her breath-it felt like it had been years since they’d made love, and her body was desperate for Peter, desperate to have him drive her to orgasm. If she didn’t pause, it would be over practically before it began.
Peter moved a hand from her hip, drifting it up her ribcage, his fingers finding her taut nipple and gently rolling it. She arched, driving Peter further into her, gasping. Peter’s other hand moved to begin tormenting her, gently rubbing her other breast; he strained upwards and she leaned down, his mouth suckling briefly before he began to use his tongue to lave at her breast.
Rose felt her desperation for release wash through her. She rocked her hips, her hands burying themselves in Peter’s hair; he shifted his mouth to the other breast, nipping gently at the sensitive flesh before dancing his tongue across her aureole. Rose braced her weight on one hand and raised her hips, sliding most of the way off of Peter before slamming him back into her.
They tormented each other, trying to get the other to finish first--Peter using his tongue and fingers to tease her, Rose rotating her hips, tightening her muscles as she set up a pounding rhythm, driving Peter into her fully each time. Throughout, they remained silent, his dark eyes locked on hers.
Peter finally rolled them, immediately sliding an arm under her knee, hiking her leg up to get a better angle; Rose sobbed, craving an orgasm but never wanting it to end, feeling half-crazed from how she felt for the man above her. Peter leaned down, kissing her, his lips gentle in contrast to the possessiveness of his lovemaking; Rose arched, desperate for more contact, for release.
Peter finally broke the silence. “As fair as thou, my bonnie lass...” He held her gaze, never wavering in his rhythm. “So deep in love am I...”
It was all she needed: her world exploded, her body arching, her jaw clenching as the orgasm rushed through her again and again-and throughout, she met Peter’s dark gaze, and heard him continue to speak.
“And I will love thee still, my dear…”
Rose sobbed Peter’s name as he prolonged her orgasm through sound and touch; she reached above her, her hands clenching the headboard as he drove into her.
She watched as the Peter’s orgasm hit him, his body going completely taut, his eyes slamming shut. She brought her hands forward, cradling his face; he opened his eyes, plunging into her several more times.
“…Till a' the seas gang dry,” he whispered, holding her gaze. He released her leg, rolling to the side and sliding out of her.
Rose shut her eyes briefly, focusing on getting oxygen back into her system; she was only vaguely aware of the shift of the mattress as Peter moved to clean up, then the dip of it as he returned to her. She blinked her eyes open, holding her arms open for him, and he lay so he was almost on top of her, as much of his body as possible in contact with hers. She was still trying to catch her breath, and could feel that Peter was still winded; she gently brushed a hand through his hair and turned to place a kiss against his damp forehead.
“I love you,” she whispered, placing another kiss against his temple.
“And I you. So much,” he murmured. She continued to stroke his hair as he drifted back to sleep.
It wasn’t comfortable, having Peter asleep mostly on top of her-and yet she still managed to fall asleep, lulled by the soothing comfort of having Peter there, his breath rhythmically ghosting across her skin.
She awoke to find Peter had rolled off of her. He was gazing intently at her; she blushed, giving him an embarrassed smile.
“Good morning.” His voice was rich, full of good humour.
“Good morning,” she replied, her voice rough.
“You seduced me.”
She grinned. “I did, a bit. Hope you didn’t mind.”
“Not at all.” He leaned towards her, kissing her. “A man could get used to that,” he murmured through the kiss.
“Mm,” she replied, focusing on pulling him closer, wanting to feel the warmth of his body against hers.
He ended with several soft kisses, her arms wrapped around her; she sighed against him.
“What time is it?” she finally asked, breaking the silence.
“Near nine.”
“Time to get up, I suppose,” she said, regretfully.
“If you’ve a hankering for breakfast, yes” He rolled out of bed, moving across the room to the en-suite, completely naked. His hair was on end, and he grinned impishly from the door to the bathroom. “I’d fancied a shower, myself. Care to join me?”
~ - ~
They finally made it downstairs after ten. Breakfast was well over, but the proprietors had set out some coffee and pastries for those guests who were still straggling downstairs. Peter pounced upon the coffee with glee while Rose munched on a pastry, and fifteen minutes later they were walking out the front door, hand-in-hand.
Rose suggested a picnic, grinning as she pulled the driver’s door shut; he had a sneaking suspicion she already had a very good idea of how they’d spend the day.
“Where are we?” he asked as she turned on the engine.
“Near to Chester.” Rose turned her attention to traffic briefly as she pulled out onto the road.
“How in heaven’s name did you find this place?”
She grinned. “Frank.”
They stopped at a small market to buy food, and Rose drove them through the countryside for a short while, clearly looking for something. She gave a shout of triumph as she spotted what she was after, and they soon pulled up to a small car park. Beeston Castle, the sign said, but there was no castle in sight.
“Frank as well?” he enquired.
“He might have mentioned it, yes.”
They paid an entrance fee, and hiked up the hill to the top-home of the castle ruins. Rose carried the blankets, both to sit on and huddle under as it was a chilly day, while he carried the food. By the time they found a clear stone upon which to sit, he realized he was out-and-out ravenous.
He and Rose sat together, eating, talking, watching the scant tourists scramble over the ruins around them. From their perch, they could look out over the countryside towards Wales, the green of the landscape vivid against the varied greys of the sky above. When they finished eating he glanced through the pamphlet given to them at the entry, while Rose leaned back on her elbows, completely relaxed.
“’s nice to have a weekend off.”
He set the pamphlet down, returning his attention to Rose. “Yes,” he replied, gravely.
She gazed at him, her eyes full of affection. “You get any proper breaks since I saw you last?”
He paused, thinking about it. “A weekend here or there. Had that day I went to see Annie, as well. Not much more, I’m afraid.”
“Y’need to take care of yourself.” She reached over, stroking his cheek.
“I was working,” he reminded her gently.
“Did you remember to eat?”
“Annie asked the same thing.” He watched Rose tense, ever so briefly. “I...I’d like you to meet her, Rose. Someday.”
“Ok...” Rose’s hand fell to her lap, her eyes drifting down.
“You’d get on fantastically well, I think. And she wants to meet you.”
Rose gave him a weak smile. “Then how can I say no?”
He leaned into her, brushing a kiss over her nose. “It’ll be fine.”
“’k.” She reached up, ruffling his hair, smiling at him as she pulled her hand away. He reached forward, tickling her; her shriek caused an older couple at the opposite end of the ruins to look disapprovingly in their direction.
Rose looked chagrined; he leaned over, stealing a kiss before moving away. “So, Miss Tyler. What other tricks have you up your sleeve?”
Rose, it turned out, had a hand-written list of historic places, as well as a map, and they spent the remainder of the day exploring the countryside. He’d never really made it that far south-at least, not for recreational purposes-and each site they visited was new to him. More than a few times he’d be mid-ramble, talking about the structure in front of them or reading from a pamphlet, and he’d glance at Rose to find her gazing at him, a soft smile on her lips.
They returned to the B&B shortly after dark, changing clothes and then going out for supper. Again, they had a table tucked conveniently away from the crowd; he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Rose, her eyes flickering in the golden candlelight.
They returned to the B&B relaxed and happy. Rose set upon him as soon as the door to their room closed, her fingers deftly undoing his trousers, her hands guiding him out of his pants as she dropped to her knees in front of him. He leaned back against the door once it became clear that Rose had no intention of letting him move, and gave himself over to the sensation of her mouth on his erection, and the vision of her in front of and below him, working to bring him to orgasm.
She grinned up at him after he’d caught his breath; he leaned forward, kissing her, the taste of himself on her lips making him want her all over again. Rose let out a squeak when he reached forward, sliding his arms under her shoulders and pulling her up, moving her to sit on the edge of the bed. Her laughter faded as he slid his hands under her dress, pulling her knickers down before kneeling in front of her in turn, tormenting her with licks and nips, dipping his tongue into her as his hands teased her breasts. Her hands buried themselves in his hair, sliding out only as she lay back, arching as he brought her to orgasm.
They undressed each other, kissing skin as it was exposed, and they fell asleep tangled in each other’s arms shortly after the light was turned off. It was the soundest sleep he’d had in weeks.
Sunday was rainy; he was happy enough when he awoke, Rose still draped over him, but the pounding of rain against the windows slowly brought him back to earth. He had to go back to Kendal; Rose had to go back to London.
Rose, too, was subdued upon awaking; instead of making lazy morning love together, they each showered and got dressed, packing their carryalls for the trip away from the haven.
He didn’t want to go back. He didn’t want to have to say goodbye to Rose.
They ate breakfast together, nearly alone in the small breakfast room. Neither of them were terribly inclined to talk, and he found himself sinking back into a depression as they stowed their bags in the car and began their drive back to Kendal.
The closer the car came to town, the further his stomach sank.
He was exhausted by the time they reached his house, as was Rose, and by unspoken agreement they made their way upstairs to his room for a nap. The rain picked back up again as he stripped down to his pants, and he snuggled against Rose, clad only in knickers and bra, as he slid under the duvet.
He fell into a deep, if short, sleep, and awoke not an hour later to find Rose still napping, her body curled against his. He watched her sleep, cognizant of the fact that she would have to leave soon, her drive back to London no doubt going to take longer than on a normal evening. As he held her to him, gently ghosting his hand across her arm, he found himself wondering if he’d be able to find a job in London. He might not be good enough for the Met, but surely his training would be of use somewhere...
“Penny for your thoughts,” Rose’s sleepy voice interrupted his reverie.
He tightened his arm, pulling her to him for a hug. “I don’t want you to have to leave today.”
Rose sighed against him. “Neither do I.” She took a breath, as though to continue, then released it.
“Mmm?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. I wish I had a longer weekend.”
“As do I.” He kissed her hair before releasing her and tucking his arms under his head. “I may yet be coming down to London, off the Glasgow case. Or so Elias kept telling me.”
She tilted her head to look at him. “I’d like that.” She grinned, “So’d mum. She’d love to have you over for tea again.”
“Really?” He’d not thought the first few visits had gone spectacularly well, all things considered; perhaps Rose had prevailed upon Jackie Tyler to give him yet another chance. Then again, his one meeting with Pete Tyler had been brief; maybe Rose's father would be at this tea, wanting to get to know him.
“She won’t eat you alive, you know.” Rose’s voice broke into his musings.
“I know,” he said, a touch defensively.
Rose propped herself on her elbow, reaching over to stroke his cheek. “Please?”
He sighed, closing his eyes in resignation. “Very well.” He reopened his eyes to see Rose grinning.
She leaned down to reward him with a kiss. “Thank you,” she whispered against his lips.
The kiss turned into a leisurely round of lovemaking, Peter trying to pour how much he loved her into his actions. Rose watched him the entire time he moved above her, her eyes dark, her hands ghosting over his skin; and as he came, he whispered “I love you” over and over again.
It was growing dark by the time Rose decided she really needed to drive back to London. She shooed him out of the en-suite as she prepared for a hasty shower, smiling as she said, “I’ll never get out of here if you join me!”
And then all too soon she was gone, leaving him alone once more in his empty house.
~ - ~
Chapter 17
a/n: Yes, Beeston Castle is real. (there are several pics from my visit there at my fotki album)