And So Things Go, Chapter 26
Title- And So Things Go (26/34)
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 - Peter and Rose attend the Vitex Party. For timeline purposes, this story falls immediately after A Tuxedo Thing and weaves into chicklet73's A Black Tie Affair.
earlgreytea68and chicklet73have been ideal betas for this-supportive, diligent, and full of excellent ideas. lostwolfchatshas been fabulous, as well, and equally as invaluable, ensuring that I didn’t ruin the Queen’s English…too badly. There is a lot in this chapter that none of the beta's have seen, so please believe me when I say any errors-grammatical, colloquial, or factual-are mine, and mine alone. And, on an artistic front-thank you to angelfireeast for the lovely banner at the top of the chapter.
One last note this morning. I've finalized my travel for next month, and I have bad news: I'm going to have to take a week off from posting, due to connectivity issues. And, well, because I'll be at Hamlet and LLL, and I'm fairly well sure my brain will be temporarily off-line from the experience. I'll put up warnings with every chapter leading up to the hiatus, just so none of you are caught unawares ;)
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
The Vitex party had gone about as expected, which was to say he’d felt painfully awkward and out of place in amongst the glitterati of London Society. Rose had been stunning and supportive-he supposed there were worse ways to spend a Saturday night than in the company of the beautiful woman he loved-but it had still been perilously close to a misery of a time. Rose, naturally, had tried to shield him from the snobbery of the guests at the function as much as possible, but he’d not missed the whispers that followed he and Rose around the party.
He’d been able to forget the whispers when Rose had led him to dance-but then he always seemed to be able to block out the world when she was that close to him, when all of her attention was centred solely on him. It had been years, really, since he’d properly danced, but he was still proficient enough that he’d been able to concentrate on Rose, on the feel of her in his arms as the music surrounded them.
He’d also been able to get some time to himself on the back terrace, escaping from the curious glances and prying questions-and taking the opportunity to eat several of the canapés he’d managed to grab before sneaking outside. Rose had lured him back inside, briefly, for another dance; she’d been pulled away immediately after for a dance with one of her father’s advisors, and he took the opportunity to sneak upstairs to where John was hidden away-fear of waking John and of Jackie killing him be damned.
The boy hadn’t been able to sleep, too eager to know what was going on below stairs, and Peter spent the rest of the night sitting with Rose’s younger brother and telling him tall tales of the party below, or of derring-do by unnamed police officers. By the time Rose found Peter to tell him it was time to make a final appearance, John had fallen asleep, his head drooping as he leaned against the headboard next to Peter.
“Did you read him a spot of history?” she asked softly, humour filling her voice.
Peter glanced up to see her leaning against the doorjamb of her brother’s room, the gold in her dress catching the light. She looked relaxed, and happy, and absolutely stunning. “I most assuredly did not,” he replied with mock effrontery. “I was telling him about some of the more...charming personages below stairs.”
Rose smiled. “I can only imagine.”
“Probably best if you don’t.” He grinned in response, wishing they weren’t reduced to whispering their conversation.
Rose extended her hand towards him. “If you can be spared, we’ve been released from our duties this evening.” She pulled her hand back, as though reconsidering. “Unless you’d rather stay here tonight...”
He rolled off the bed, taking care not to wake John, before striding over to Rose in two steps. He took her hand, pulling her to him and wrapping his arms around her. “Oh, I don’t think so,” he whispered against her ear. He felt her shiver, and pulled back to meet her gaze. “The bed’s far too small here.” He winked at her, stealing a kiss; he then grinned, releasing her and slowly sauntering past her into the hallway.
He heard her hasten to catch up to him, and slowed down enough that she’d reach him before they reached the top of the stairs. As he felt her reach for his hand he stopped, spinning, gambling that she’d be exactly where he expected as he reached to pull her to him again. Rose let out a yelp, caught perfectly by surprise, and he smiled at her as he leaned forward to kiss her properly.
“You terrible, terrible tease,” she whispered, pulling back slightly from their kiss.
“Mmmm,” he replied, leaning in, seeking her lips once more. “It’s only teasing if you don’t intend to honour the promise.”
“And what are you promising?” The words were whispered against his jaw, and followed by the soft press of her lips against his skin.
He pressed his left palm against the wall, drifting his right hand up the side of her dress, his knuckles just brushing against the curve of her breast. He heard her breath catch, and leaned forward to drift his tongue along the shell of her ear. “I’m promising you-”
They were interrupted by the sound of feet on stairs, and had only enough time to hastily break apart before Pete Tyler appeared. Peter felt like a teenager again, suddenly terrified that Rose’s father would call him out for kissing his daughter; Rose, however, gave her father a genuine smile.
“I was just bringing Peter down to say goodnight,” she offered brightly, stepping forward to take Peter’s hand. “He bored John into sleep,” she stage-whispered to her father as she moved to the stairs.
“Is that so?” Pete looked completely unconvinced, but stepped back to allow Rose to pass. Peter gave the older man a weak smile as he followed her, and suddenly felt as though his bowtie was far too tight.
Rose worked to get them out of the party as quickly as possible, hurrying to say goodbye to everyone who needed farewelling; he smiled and nodded politely, shaking hands firmly when expected, brushing kisses over cheeks when subtly urged to by Rose. His Rose was tireless as she charmed the glitterati upon her departure; he was exhausted not five people in, and wondered how on earth Rose did it. The final goodbye of the night was saved for Jackie and Pete, and he felt as though another test had been passed as he received a kiss and a hug from Jackie, and a firm handshake accompanied by a slight smile from Pete.
He was immeasurably grateful to finally return to Rose’s flat, to kick off his shoes the second he walked through the front door.
“I don’t know what we were thinking, not staying at the house,” Rose said tiredly as she followed him through the door.
“What, and let your parents know we’re sleeping together?” he joked lightly. He made sure the door was locked before walking into the parlour.
“Mum’d kill to see you in your pyjamas,” Rose said, smiling deviously as she leaned against the wall leading to the bedroom.
There was no safe answer to that, so he ignored the comment. He reached up, pulling the end of his tie and undoing the knot; as he walked into the kitchen to search for a glass of water, he undid the button holding his collar closed.
Freedom, at last. He had forgotten just how much he loathed wearing tuxedoes.
He emerged with two glasses of water; Rose was still waiting for him and gratefully accepted the glass he handed her as he walked past. He gulped down half the liquid in one go, slowly padding his way down the hallway to the bedroom.
“I can’t wait to be shot of this outfit,” he said over his shoulder, walking into the bedroom and turning on the light.
“Mmmm,” was Rose’s reply from behind him.
He set his glass down and reached for the lapels of the jacket so he could shrug it off; he paused as Rose wrapped her arms around him, her body pressing into his from behind.
“I seem to recall saying I’d reward you for being a good boy…” Her voice was low and soft.
“So you did.” He was tired-honestly, bone-weary tired, to the point that he wasn’t sure he’d even be up for making love to her. But he’d meant it earlier in the house, when he’d said he wasn’t teasing; he had every intention of making love to her, or at least of making her orgasm. And-in spite of his exhaustion-he did love the idea of her helping to undress him.
Rose ducked to stand in front of him, her hands flattened against his chest, sliding up the still-starched cotton of his shirt to remove the heavy fabric of his jacket. He let his eyes drift closed, the sound of the tuxedo jacket landing on the floor followed by the sensation of Rose working to unbutton his shirt. He felt her hands ghost over his chest, her fingers slipping under his braces and sliding them over his shoulders, her hands then guiding his arms out of the loops of fabric so they dangled at his sides. His mind drifted as he continued to relax, Rose’s fingers now gently ghosting across his skin, up his chest; he was only vaguely aware of the feel of his tie being pulled through his collar.
“Peter?” Rose’s voice was very soft, and he forced himself to open his eyes, to tilt his head forward so he could look at her. “Hello, there,” she said as he met her eyes, a gentle smile on her lips.
“Hello.” He brought his hand up to cradle her cheek, rubbing his thumb across her soft skin. “You’re gorgeous, you know.”
She leaned up into him, meeting his lips for a kiss.
“You’re exhausted,” she replied as she pulled back.
“No! Not terribly, at any rate.” The weary note to his voice undermined his protest.
Rose laughed, her hands gently grabbing his shirt and tugging down playfully. “You nearly fell asleep on me, standing up. A girl could get a complex.”
He bent down to kiss her again. “I’ll wake up for this…I promise.”
“I’m not going to strip you down, only to have you fall asleep halfway through,” Rose whispered against his lips.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ll just have to make it up to me.” Rose’s voice was light, but he could tell she was disappointed.
“I will. I promise.” He brought his arms around her, pulling her to him in an embrace; he leaned down, brushing a kiss across the corner of her jaw.
She turned, placing a quick kiss by his ear. “You’ll have to wear the tuxedo again; you look…you look…amazing.” She was leaning back against his arms now, gazing at him appreciatively.
“Anyone looks good in a tuxedo, Rose. It’s why they’re useful for parties and other large galas-even the scariest celebrity looks fit for admiration in a tuxedo.”
“True,” she said, her eyes drifting to his lips as she brushed a hand across the cotton still covering his chest. “But you look especially good.” She took a breath, then held it; she finally raised her eyes to his, saying softly, “You’re the most handsome man I know, Peter.”
He blushed, hastily averting his glance. She brought her hand to his jaw, gently guiding him to look at her.
“I do mean it, Peter. Every bit as much as I mean it when I say that I love you.”
Peter leaned forward, his lips brushing against Rose’s; they continued to kiss for several moments, each of them unwinding from the evening, simply enjoying being alone together once more. He ended by brushing kisses along Rose’s jaw, coming to rest his chin on Rose’s shoulder, gently rocking them back and forth.
“Thank you,” he whispered, brushing a last kiss over her temple.
“You’re more than welcome,” Rose whispered in reply.
He released her from his embrace, moving his hands to her hips. “And you? Are beautiful tonight. In case I failed to say it earlier.” She was, too-the gold embroidery in her dress complementing her hair and her eyes. The black fabric emphasized the fairness of her skin, and the cut of the dress-ending just past the knees-flattered her beautifully.
“Thank you.” She rocked up for another quick kiss, before stepping back. “Now. Let’s get you ready for bed, sleepyhead.”
He kept his hands on Rose’s waist, his thumbs rubbing over the silk of her dress, as she reached up and helped to slide his shirt off of his shoulders. He reluctantly moved his hands, hastily reaching to release his cufflinks; Rose gave him a small grin, taking them from his hand before fully divesting him of his shirt.
He closed his eyes again as Rose brushed a kiss over his jaw, her hands working to untuck his vest; she pulled it up, over his head, and then gently rubbed his hair with her hands, further mussing it.
“You look like John, you know,” she whispered playfully.
He cracked open an eye. “I dearly hope that’s hyperbole.”
She laughed again. “All rumpled and sleepy-perhaps I ought to find you a bedtime story?”
He lunged forward, his hands finding her hips and pulling her to him; she gave him a lazy smile as her body pressed against his.
“You’re trying to seduce me, Rose Tyler.” His voice was deeper than it had been just seconds before, interest beginning to flood his body.
“Never.” Her fingers played across his skin, following the line of his collarbone. She was watching their progress, her tongue peeping from the corner of her mouth.
“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.” He slowly slid a hand around to her back, up her spine, looking for the zip to her dress.
“Why would I try to seduce a man who falls asleep when I’m undressing him?”
“Perhaps you find me irresistible.”
Her smile softened. “I do. But if you were tired, I’d let you sleep.”
“Why don’t we see how tired I am?” He was whispering again, his lips near her ear as his fingers found the zip and began to slowly drag it down.
“’k.” He heard Rose give a soft gasp as his fingers slipped through the opening the zipper had left. Her fingers were drifting up and down his spine, the rhythm exceptionally soothing, and he found himself slowly being lulled back into relaxation.
He tilted his chin forward, his lips brushing tiny kisses across her shoulders; when he reached the strap of her dress, he brought a hand up to slowly slide it off her shoulder. As the second strap slid down her arm, he took a step back and allowed gravity to do the rest.
Rose stepped out of her dress, now pooled at her feet, and Peter felt the last of his weariness fade. He closed the distance between them, his arms reaching to pull her to him as he bent down to kiss her properly; her hands tangled in his hair as she returned the kiss eagerly.
“Not tired, then?” she whispered against his mouth.
“Not anymore.”
She smiled, and took a step back before leading him to bed.
He paused to shut off the lamp, casting the room into a brief darkness as his eyes adjusted to the gentle light from outside. The instant he removed his hand from the switch, Rose stepped to him, her fingers working to unfasten his trousers, her hands slipping across his pants to help the heavy wool slide down his body. He let out a soft groan as her fingertips drifted across his erection, and he hurriedly moved to guide her to lie on the bed. Rose’s underthings were lovely, all black lace and hints of promise, and as Rose stretched before him he couldn’t help but whisper, “You’re stunning.”
She smiled slowly, reaching up to cradle his jaw. “I love you,” she replied softly, pulling him down for a kiss.
Peter took his time exploring Rose’s bra and knickers before removing them from her; Rose teased him mercilessly through the cotton of his pants before sliding them down his body, one hand gently-tantalizingly-cupping his erection. They spent what felt like hours kissing after that, their naked bodies pressed together, fingers ghosting across skin, tongues twining together; until finally, he could take the foreplay no longer. He pulled back, gasping, and Rose rolled over to pull a condom from the bedside table.
The fair skin of her back begged for tasting as she stretched and he leaned forward, working to map every inch of it with his lips and tongue. Rose went still, arching as he found a particularly sensitive spot, and his hand drifted across her hip to slide down between her legs. He pressed his body against hers, his erection now trapped between their bodies, and he let out a gasp of appreciation as she rocked backwards into him. “I want to make love to you like this, Rose,” he whispered, brushing kisses against her neck.
“Yes,” she replied, arching once more, trying to push his erection into her.
Peter reached for the condom, taking it from her fingers, rolling back only long enough to slide the latex onto his shaft. Rose was looking at him over her shoulder, her eyes large and luminous in the light, and he leaned forward for a quick kiss before moving his hand to her hips.
“Roll onto your stomach, Rose.” He moved to kneel between her legs as she complied, and he moved his hands to her hips as she pushed up onto her hands and knees in front of him.
His breath was coming in short gasps now, his body fully aware and practically thrumming with anticipation and need. He reached down, his hand encircling his penis, and he leaned forward as he guided himself to Rose’s entrance. He heard her breath hitch as he pushed just inside of her, and he paused a brief moment to catch his breath.
“Please, Peter,” Rose whispered, arching in an effort to pull him further into her.
He rested his hands on her hips, holding her still, and slowly pushed forward until he was fully sheathed in her. “My Rose,” he replied, leaning forward to kiss her neck.
He pulled out, circling his hips before pressing forward into her again; Rose turned, seeking his mouth, desperately kissing him as he pushed even further into her.
“Again, Peter…” she whispered between kisses, arching into him.
He pulled out, pushed into her-faster, this time-and began to set a steady rhythm. Each push forward was punctuated with a kiss, each withdrawal accompanied by a whispered word; Rose met him stroke for stroke, beginning to encourage him to go faster, to drive harder into her.
“Please, Peter…oh, please…” Rose panted, shifting so she could slide a hand down to tease herself. He felt her fingers dance against his erection as he moved into and out of her, and felt his orgasm rise up suddenly, pouring from him into her.
“Rose!” he shouted, now slamming into her. He was vaguely aware of Rose keening his name seconds later, of her almost sobbing as she clenched around him, still rocking back as he pressed forward.
Time seemed to stop as they both rode out their orgasms, and then suddenly snap back into place as exhaustion washed through him. “My Rose,” he whispered, pulling out of her before leaning to place a kiss against her damp shoulder blade.
“My Peter,” she murmured in reply, slowly lying down on her stomach.
He moved to clean up, briefly washing in the en suite before rejoining Rose on the bed. She was very nearly asleep, a soft smile playing across her utterly relaxed features. He brushed a kiss across her cheek, gently nudging her aside so he could pull the duvet over both of them; she rolled onto her side, making room for him in the bed.
He snuggled against her, pulling the duvet over both of them before wrapping her in his arms. “Love you, Rose,” he whispered, his eyes drifting shut.
He was asleep before she could reply.
~ - ~
Chapter 27