An Interrogation Thing, 1/1
Title: An Interrogation Thing
Rating: M
Author: jlrpuck
Disclaimer: Characters from Blackpool and Doctor Who are the property of BBC, are are used with the greatest of love and respect; no profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Summary: Rose and Peter pay a visit to where it all began.
Notes: This was written on Monday, after a conversation with P_C; I’ve been wanting to write it for ages, really, but had to convince myself that I wouldn’t be flagrantly violating canon. I finally decided I didn’t much care-I wanted to write this little tale, and so I’d write it. I guess, theoretically, this could meet aibhinn’s request for the timestamp meme-but I’d already written something for that, so I’m not debiting her request. *g*
Thank you to both chicklet73 and earlgreytea68 for their beta of this.
An Interrogation Thing
“It was a lovely dinner, Peter.”
They were in the car, driving back into Kendal after dining in Ulswater, the restaurant a small establishment run by friends of Louise’s. They’d been left alone-not a zanzare in sight, an increasingly rare occurrence-and it had been perhaps the nicest evening she’d had during her visit with Peter.
He glanced over, his smile visible in the light coming from the dash. “I’m happy you approved.”
He was dressed casually, his dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled up just enough to cause her mind to think of what those arms looked like without anything at all covering them. Perhaps most remarkable, at least for Peter, was that the shirt was a soft pink-a departure from the white he seemed to prefer, or even the occasional blue shirt she’d seen him wear on another of their dates. His grey trousers appeared black in the dim blue light in the car, and she couldn’t resist tentatively resting her hand on his thigh, her thumb brushing across the soft fabric.
“You’re going to distract me, you keep that up,” Peter said mildly as he navigated the car around one of the many bends in the road. She felt his leg flex under her hand as he engaged the clutch; he downshifted, then moved to cover her hand with his.
He did not, she noted, move her hand away from where it rested.
They were coming into the edge of Kendal, the lights of the houses now providing a bit more ambient light; Peter’s hair no longer appeared black, but was back to being shown as the deep chestnut it was; and she could even make out his freckles as the lights grew brighter.
“See something y’like, then?” he asked as he downshifted again, then stopped at the lonely traffic light marking their entrance into the town proper. The light changed and he slowly accelerated, his muscles playing under where her hand still rested.
“Always,” she replied, smiling. He loved asking her the question whenever he caught her staring; she was starting to love brazenly answering it, seeing just how far she could push the publicly reserved man with her answers.
He glanced over at her, a sideways look containing all sorts of mischief; she didn’t miss the fleeting smile which graced his lips before he surprised her, taking a sharp left turn on squealing wheels.
“Peter!”
“Aye?” he asked innocently, slowly driving through a car park now. She tore her gaze away from him, and noted that they were at the County Council chambers…which were right in front of the police station.
She stifled a sigh. “Work?”
“I did think of something I wanted at the station, yes.” He slowed, pulling into a parking space in one of the side lots, his gaze now intent as he eyed the building in front of them.
“Y’want me to wait out here?” she asked tentatively.
He glanced over to her, surprised. “Why on earth would I want that?” He jerked upwards on the hand brake, then removed the key from the ignition. “C’mon; rather have you in there with me than out here with…well, who knows? Dangerous place, Kendal after dark.” He winked, and turned to open the car door.
Rose sighed, unbuckling her lap belt before opening her own door. She’d dressed for a nice supper-a light blouse over a flowing skirt, the outfit completed by a light cardigan and a pair of shoes with proper heels. Peter had loved the outfit-they’d almost been late for dinner as he’d expressed his appreciation, kissing her breathless in the foyer of his house-but she was beginning to regret the choice. Her feet were killing her, and the cardigan was no match for the chilly air of the evening.
She just wanted to go home, really-to go back to Peter’s, to get out of her clothes and go to bed with him. They were running out of time together, and she didn’t want to waste any more of it than was strictly necessary. And now he’d taken it into his head to visit the place he hated-for she was learning, quickly, that he really was miserably unhappy at the station in Kendal-on one of their last evenings together.
He seemed oblivious to her frustration as he merrily walked up the sidewalk; he was even humming, something she wasn’t sure she’d ever heard him do. His right hand was tucked in his trouser pocket-she could hear him jangling his keys in the quiet night-and his left swung as he walked, the powerful strides she’d be able to recognize from miles away carrying him over the pavement with ease. He skipped up the steps to the station entrance, and patiently waited for her as she slowly joined him, her feet now screaming from having to walk in the impractical shoes on the unforgiving concrete. .
“Just a tick, Rose, I promise,” he said, his voice carrying a note of sympathy as he turned to swipe his ID card, then punch in a code to unlock the station doors.
It was enough to make most of her frustration fade away, and she followed him into the brightly lit front hall in a much lighter frame of mind.
Peter glanced around-looking, no doubt, for someone whom he could bear to speak to. Rose hung back, waiting to see what Peter would do, not exactly keen to be back in the building in spite of the happier memories she associated with the place.
“No one about, then,” Peter said, startling her; he extended his hand, taking hers, then led her to and through the doors to the station room.
She thought he might stop at his desk-piled high, she noted, with folders and papers; he instead passed it by with nary a second glance, continuing to the opposite end of the room and through the other set of swinging doors to the hallway beyond.
He led her unhesitatingly to the interrogation rooms-specifically to the very room they’d used as a base of operations during the weeks she’d worked in Kendal. She’d hoped, when she’d surprised Peter the week before, she’d been in the space for the last time; she might have a few happy memories associated with the small room, but she could also happily spend the rest of her life never having to see it again.
“I cannot fathom what you need from there,” Rose offered drily, her soft voice loud in the empty hallway.
Peter made a non-committal noise as he pulled out his keys, flicking through the bits of metal until he found the one which opened the door in front of him. He opened the door with a quick twist, giving Rose an indecipherable glance before moving to turn on the lights and enter the room. Rose followed him with a sigh, hoping that there’d at least be a place to sit while Peter found whatever he suddenly needed to.
She gazed with interest at the tables in front of her as she walked in; she paused just inside of and to the left of the door, noting that most of the remaining boxes had been bundled off, and that the papers which had covered the flat surface when she’d surprised Peter were gone. Penny’s doing, no doubt, and probably a try by Williams to punish at least one of the two partners. Poor Penny-he was surely bearing the brunt of Williams’ wrath in Peter’s absence.
She heard the door close, caught what sounded like the soft snick of the lock; she turned, meaning to ask Peter about it, and was caught completely by surprise as he pulled her to him, his lips finding hers.
The keys dropped from his hand with a loud rattle as he splayed his fingers across her back; his tongue delved into her mouth, causing a soft moan low in her throat.
He turned them, backing her against the wall, pressing into her as he continued to kiss her. She flashed back to Peter doing the very same thing, weeks before in vastly different circumstances; how he’d pressed her against the wall, had kissed her as though it was the last thing he’d ever do…how he’d told her that he wanted to shag her in that room, on the table currently just behind him.
She deepened their kiss, sliding her hands over his shoulders, finding the soft hair at the nape of his neck; she felt him groan as she buried her fingers in the soft strands, and was unable to keep from smiling.
“Minx,” he growled against her lips, breaking the kiss to slowly brush his lips across her jaw. His hands had moved to rest on her hips, and he was slowly working to move her blouse, to be able to touch her bare skin.
“Yes.” Rose’s hands moved to rest against his chest, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt in the almost non-existent space between them. She raised her head, worry that perhaps the room was almost back to being fully serviceable washing through her. “Everything’s still shut down?”
“Aye. Willnae be working again for weeks.” He pulled back, creating space between them; his eyes were almost black, and she felt a warmth pool low in her belly as he gazed intently at her.
“No Penny this time?” she asked playfully, pausing in the middle of unbuttoning another of the small discs on his shirt.
“No Penny. Just us.” He hesitated, suddenly uncertain, his gaze faltering as he weighed whether to say anything further.
“Good.” Rose rocked forward, arching up to kiss him.
He returned the kiss with a smile, leaning forward backing her fully against the wall. She could feel him pressing into her, his body a warm counterpoint to the hard concrete of the wall behind her.
She was gasping for breath when Peter began to drift kisses across her neck; she tilted her head back, encouraging him, and fumbled blindly for his shirt, eager to finish the job she’d begun minutes before. Peter’s clever hands had found the bottom of her blouse, had slipped under the fabric now to rest against her waist, his palms almost blazingly hot; she arched into him, wanting him to do something more.
“Eager, Miss Tyler?” he murmured against her skin, his lips curved in a smile.
“You’re one to talk,” she retorted, slipping a hand down to cup his growing erection.
He straightened, taking a step back; she felt suddenly cold without his body flush against hers, and was unable to stifle a groan of protest. His smile broadened, becoming the lazy, knowing smile he’d already learned would turn her to jelly.
He leaned forward, careful not to touch her, making sure he had her attention as he came closer...closer...
“I’m going to shag you rotten, Rose Tyler. Right here, in this room.”
He must have heard her breath catch, had to be able to feel the heat flooding through her at the casually cocky statement. He pulled back, just enough to look at her, and continued, “But first...”
His hands found her skirt, gently pulling the material up, bunching it around her hips. She didn’t miss the brief furrow of his brow as he felt her knickers. They were lace, part of a matching set of lingerie she’d bought on a whim; Peter hadn’t seen them yet, and he paused to lean back in order to see what she was wearing.
“My, my, Rose...” He drifted his fingers across the line of the sheer white lace, rubbing back and forth, his touch light.
“Thought you’d like ‘em,” she said, proud when her voice didn’t catch. It wasn’t fair, the ability Peter had to render her speechless.
“Oh yes.” He pushed his hips against hers, whispering, “I’m particularly going to enjoy taking you out of them...later.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Later?”
“Indeed.” He leaned forward, his lips hovering just over hers. “I plan to shag you while you’re still in them.” He paused a beat, then closed the distance, his lips just barely brushing hers as his hand dipped under the lace of her knickers. His palm slid down her abdomen, his fingers ghosting across the curls at the join of her thighs then slipping through the wetness between her legs. Her hands clung to his shoulders as his fingers slid further back, finally dipping into her; she let out an embarrassing mewl, and was rewarded by his deepening their kiss.
He teased her mercilessly, his fingers dancing through her folds, rubbing her clit before sliding back to dip into her, almost but not quite setting up a rhythm; she bucked against him, wanting him to stop teasing her and do something, anything.
“What do you want, Rose?” he finally asked, pausing in his torment, watching her.
“You. Want you to make love to me...” She focused, wiggling her hand between them, her fingers dancing against his chest, sliding down his stomach to the catch on his trousers. He’d worn a belt, and she let out a noise of frustration as she came across the impediment. She brought her other hand to his waist, somehow managed to unbuckle the blasted belt, to unfasten his trousers; but he refused to move so she could unzip his fly.
“Where, Rose?” His hand was still in her knickers, but was frustratingly unmoving; she arched, trying to encourage him to carry on, and was disappointed when he instead slipped his hand from her knickers altogether. “Where?” he asked again, his voice lower, more insistent.
“Anywhere,” she replied, her body screaming for Peter as she watched him slowly lick his fingers clean. She reached forward, pulling him to her as he moved his hand away from his mouth; she kissed him fiercely, her tongue flicking across the roof of his mouth as she tried to make him as desperate as she was.
It worked. He surprised her, pulling her to him, turning them, walking them backwards to what had to be the table. She felt the metal press against the backs of her thighs, felt him help her to sit on the edge of the piece of furniture; she settled, finding a comfortable position, still kissing him. There was room between them now and she hurried to finish undoing his trousers, to grasp the zip and pull it down. Eager hands moved to the opening in his pants, reached through, found his penis; she freed him, her hand now holding his erection, loving the weight and warmth of him in her palm.
“God,” Peter choked out, resting his forehead against hers as she stroked upwards, as her thumb played with the head of his penis.
“I love how you feel in my hand, Peter,” she whispered, knowing that he loved to hear her talk to him during sex. He’d been in control long enough; it was time for her to take command for a bit.
“Yes,” he hissed, bucking into her hand as she stroked down, her hand hitting against the base of his erection now. She reached forward with her other hand, cupped his testicles; he braced his hands on either side of her hips, and she worried he might actually collapse as she slowly teased him, stroking and squeezing him in a slow, steady rhythm.
“I imagined doing this to you, here,” she said after several moments, watching him; how he was biting his lower lip as he concentrated, how his cheeks flushed pink as she drew him closer to his orgasm. “Imagined us, in here, doing this...”
His eyes opened, his gaze finding hers immediately. “What else did you imagine, Rose?” Peter’s voice was gravelly, breathless; his eyes bored into hers. He shifted, his right hand moving from where it rested on the edge of the table to her thigh, pulling her skirt up, out of the way again.
“I imaged you shagging me on this table, Peter...” She opened her legs for him as he straightened; she pouted as he pulled away, freeing himself from her hold.
“You’ll have to wait; now it’s my turn,” he admonished, once again in control.
Rose blinked, confused when Peter took a step back, and reached to pull his wallet out of his back pocket. He glanced up at her, giving her a small grin as he flipped the leather open, then extracted a small foil packet from within.
“Did you plan to seduce me, Peter?” Rose asked, delighted and embarrassed in equal measure.
“I always want to seduce you, Rose,” he replied seriously, opening the foil packet and slowly rolling the latex over his erection. “Always.”
He stood between her legs, leaning forward, kissing her gently; she was barely aware of him setting the wallet on the table before his hands moved, finding her sodding wet knickers, his fingers pushing the lace aside and plunging into her.
He deepened the kiss, swallowing her cry; and then he was gone, down on his knees in front of her, his damp fingers resting on her thighs and pushing them further apart so he could lean in to taste her.
She scooted forward, arching her back as he slowly danced his tongue across her flesh; she glanced down, watching as he tasted her, as he dipped his tongue into her, swirling it, then dancing the tip across her folds and clit. She was so close; it would take nothing at all for her to come, it would be so easy...
“Peter...not yet...please....” She reached down, gently threading her fingers through his hair, encouraging him to pull back as she tried to close her legs. Peter rocked back, blinking up at her dazedly, his lips covered with moisture. He held her gaze and she had the brief thought that he wasn’t going to do it, that he was going to make her come right then, without him; and then he pushed away from her and stood, calmly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I...” She didn’t know what to say, was worried that perhaps he’d be upset. Instead, he reached forward, cupping her jaw, gazing seriously at her.
“Together?” he asked softly, his eyes searching hers.
“Yeah.”
He kissed her, the sensation itself almost overwhelming, the taste of her on his tongue, the scent filling her sinuses. He continued to kiss her, his hands holding her to him, undemanding; and when he felt her relax, finally, he broke the kiss and pulled back to look at her.
“Alright?”
“Yeah,” she replied, reaching for his hips, pulling him towards her. He reached down, guiding his erection to her, pushing her knickers aside; she gasped as she felt him press against her, and let out a sob as he rocked forward, sheathing himself in her.
“Rose,” he groaned.
“God, yes,” she answered, hissing the words.
He pulled back, paused, then pressed forward again, harder, his skin slapping wetly against hers; then he set his pace, out, in, out in. The rhythm was fast, forceful-and he watched her the entire time, his gaze riveted to her. She, in turn, watched him as he shagged her on the table in the interrogation room, playing out a fantasy which she’d not expected to live out; watched how he watched her, watched where he rocked into her as she felt her orgasm coil tighter and tighter.
Minutes passed, the two of them focused entirely on each other, on reaching orgasm together.
“’s that going to make you come, then, Rose?” Peter grunted, shifting, changing the angle just a bit-just enough for her to gasp, to feel her release begin to unspool within her.
“Yes!” she gasped, arching, so close...
Her cries were swallowed by Peter as her orgasm exploded through her; she sobbed into their kiss as he continued to slam into her.
His thrusts grew more erratic, more sharp; and then he groaned into the kiss as he came, emptying into the condom as he was buried within her. She brought her legs around his hips, locking her ankles, holding him within her as he shook with the effort of his release.
He finally relaxed, breaking the kiss, resting his head against the curve of her neck once more. Rose brushed her hand across his sweat-soaked hair, reluctant to let him go, to lose the intimacy they were sharing.
He turned after a few moments, kissing her neck, then whispered, “Rose, I...I need to...”
She unlocked her ankles, letting him take a step back and slide out of her. He stifled a sigh of annoyance as he glanced around the room, then gave a small sound of victory as he found what he was after-a roll of paper towels, tucked away in the corner of the room.
“One would almost think you’d planned this,” she observed, bemused, as he slowly shuffled over to where the towel roll lay. She straightened her knickers, and pulled her skirt back down before leaning against the edge of the table.
He gave her a half-smile, concentrating on cleaning up before answering. “I didn’t, you know. Thought about it often enough that, just possibly, one could argue it was premeditated. But I didn’t take you to supper tonight with the intention of shagging you here in the station.”
He tucked himself back into his pants, and concentrated on buttoning his shirt as he continued, “I’ve been the fool as has had to clean this bloody room since you lot left; I knew there were towels here somewhere.”
“You’re a man of many hidden talents, Peter.”
He grinned. “Oh yes.” He finished tucking his shirt in, then buckled his belt. “But I’ll be a man in very, very deep trouble if we’re caught in here. Shall we go, Miss Tyler?” He crooked his arm, waiting for her to rest her hand there; she laughed, obliging him.
The station was still empty when they opened the door to the interrogation room, and they were able to dispose of the evidence of their wrongdoing and return to Peter’s car without seeing a single soul. By the time they were on the road through town, returning to Peter’s, it was almost as though it had all been a dream.
They didn’t speak again until they were safely back in Peter’s house, the front door secured behind them.
“We just shagged in the station,” Peter said, disbelief apparent in his tone.
“We did. You naughty, naughty man.” Rose advanced on Peter, slowly backing him against the door.
“Am I?”
“Oh yes.” She reached forward, untucking his shirt, slipping her fingers under his belt. “You seduced me,” she whispered.
“How terrible of me.”
“You’ll have to pay.” Her fingers were dancing down the line of his zip, and she could already feel him hardening again.
“Will I now?”
“Definitely.” She took a step back, giving him a grin. “Upstairs.”
She turned, running up the stairs, laughing as she heard Peter come after her.
~ fin ~
Rating: M
Author: jlrpuck
Disclaimer: Characters from Blackpool and Doctor Who are the property of BBC, are are used with the greatest of love and respect; no profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Summary: Rose and Peter pay a visit to where it all began.
Notes: This was written on Monday, after a conversation with P_C; I’ve been wanting to write it for ages, really, but had to convince myself that I wouldn’t be flagrantly violating canon. I finally decided I didn’t much care-I wanted to write this little tale, and so I’d write it. I guess, theoretically, this could meet aibhinn’s request for the timestamp meme-but I’d already written something for that, so I’m not debiting her request. *g*
Thank you to both chicklet73 and earlgreytea68 for their beta of this.
An Interrogation Thing
“It was a lovely dinner, Peter.”
They were in the car, driving back into Kendal after dining in Ulswater, the restaurant a small establishment run by friends of Louise’s. They’d been left alone-not a zanzare in sight, an increasingly rare occurrence-and it had been perhaps the nicest evening she’d had during her visit with Peter.
He glanced over, his smile visible in the light coming from the dash. “I’m happy you approved.”
He was dressed casually, his dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled up just enough to cause her mind to think of what those arms looked like without anything at all covering them. Perhaps most remarkable, at least for Peter, was that the shirt was a soft pink-a departure from the white he seemed to prefer, or even the occasional blue shirt she’d seen him wear on another of their dates. His grey trousers appeared black in the dim blue light in the car, and she couldn’t resist tentatively resting her hand on his thigh, her thumb brushing across the soft fabric.
“You’re going to distract me, you keep that up,” Peter said mildly as he navigated the car around one of the many bends in the road. She felt his leg flex under her hand as he engaged the clutch; he downshifted, then moved to cover her hand with his.
He did not, she noted, move her hand away from where it rested.
They were coming into the edge of Kendal, the lights of the houses now providing a bit more ambient light; Peter’s hair no longer appeared black, but was back to being shown as the deep chestnut it was; and she could even make out his freckles as the lights grew brighter.
“See something y’like, then?” he asked as he downshifted again, then stopped at the lonely traffic light marking their entrance into the town proper. The light changed and he slowly accelerated, his muscles playing under where her hand still rested.
“Always,” she replied, smiling. He loved asking her the question whenever he caught her staring; she was starting to love brazenly answering it, seeing just how far she could push the publicly reserved man with her answers.
He glanced over at her, a sideways look containing all sorts of mischief; she didn’t miss the fleeting smile which graced his lips before he surprised her, taking a sharp left turn on squealing wheels.
“Peter!”
“Aye?” he asked innocently, slowly driving through a car park now. She tore her gaze away from him, and noted that they were at the County Council chambers…which were right in front of the police station.
She stifled a sigh. “Work?”
“I did think of something I wanted at the station, yes.” He slowed, pulling into a parking space in one of the side lots, his gaze now intent as he eyed the building in front of them.
“Y’want me to wait out here?” she asked tentatively.
He glanced over to her, surprised. “Why on earth would I want that?” He jerked upwards on the hand brake, then removed the key from the ignition. “C’mon; rather have you in there with me than out here with…well, who knows? Dangerous place, Kendal after dark.” He winked, and turned to open the car door.
Rose sighed, unbuckling her lap belt before opening her own door. She’d dressed for a nice supper-a light blouse over a flowing skirt, the outfit completed by a light cardigan and a pair of shoes with proper heels. Peter had loved the outfit-they’d almost been late for dinner as he’d expressed his appreciation, kissing her breathless in the foyer of his house-but she was beginning to regret the choice. Her feet were killing her, and the cardigan was no match for the chilly air of the evening.
She just wanted to go home, really-to go back to Peter’s, to get out of her clothes and go to bed with him. They were running out of time together, and she didn’t want to waste any more of it than was strictly necessary. And now he’d taken it into his head to visit the place he hated-for she was learning, quickly, that he really was miserably unhappy at the station in Kendal-on one of their last evenings together.
He seemed oblivious to her frustration as he merrily walked up the sidewalk; he was even humming, something she wasn’t sure she’d ever heard him do. His right hand was tucked in his trouser pocket-she could hear him jangling his keys in the quiet night-and his left swung as he walked, the powerful strides she’d be able to recognize from miles away carrying him over the pavement with ease. He skipped up the steps to the station entrance, and patiently waited for her as she slowly joined him, her feet now screaming from having to walk in the impractical shoes on the unforgiving concrete. .
“Just a tick, Rose, I promise,” he said, his voice carrying a note of sympathy as he turned to swipe his ID card, then punch in a code to unlock the station doors.
It was enough to make most of her frustration fade away, and she followed him into the brightly lit front hall in a much lighter frame of mind.
Peter glanced around-looking, no doubt, for someone whom he could bear to speak to. Rose hung back, waiting to see what Peter would do, not exactly keen to be back in the building in spite of the happier memories she associated with the place.
“No one about, then,” Peter said, startling her; he extended his hand, taking hers, then led her to and through the doors to the station room.
She thought he might stop at his desk-piled high, she noted, with folders and papers; he instead passed it by with nary a second glance, continuing to the opposite end of the room and through the other set of swinging doors to the hallway beyond.
He led her unhesitatingly to the interrogation rooms-specifically to the very room they’d used as a base of operations during the weeks she’d worked in Kendal. She’d hoped, when she’d surprised Peter the week before, she’d been in the space for the last time; she might have a few happy memories associated with the small room, but she could also happily spend the rest of her life never having to see it again.
“I cannot fathom what you need from there,” Rose offered drily, her soft voice loud in the empty hallway.
Peter made a non-committal noise as he pulled out his keys, flicking through the bits of metal until he found the one which opened the door in front of him. He opened the door with a quick twist, giving Rose an indecipherable glance before moving to turn on the lights and enter the room. Rose followed him with a sigh, hoping that there’d at least be a place to sit while Peter found whatever he suddenly needed to.
She gazed with interest at the tables in front of her as she walked in; she paused just inside of and to the left of the door, noting that most of the remaining boxes had been bundled off, and that the papers which had covered the flat surface when she’d surprised Peter were gone. Penny’s doing, no doubt, and probably a try by Williams to punish at least one of the two partners. Poor Penny-he was surely bearing the brunt of Williams’ wrath in Peter’s absence.
She heard the door close, caught what sounded like the soft snick of the lock; she turned, meaning to ask Peter about it, and was caught completely by surprise as he pulled her to him, his lips finding hers.
The keys dropped from his hand with a loud rattle as he splayed his fingers across her back; his tongue delved into her mouth, causing a soft moan low in her throat.
He turned them, backing her against the wall, pressing into her as he continued to kiss her. She flashed back to Peter doing the very same thing, weeks before in vastly different circumstances; how he’d pressed her against the wall, had kissed her as though it was the last thing he’d ever do…how he’d told her that he wanted to shag her in that room, on the table currently just behind him.
She deepened their kiss, sliding her hands over his shoulders, finding the soft hair at the nape of his neck; she felt him groan as she buried her fingers in the soft strands, and was unable to keep from smiling.
“Minx,” he growled against her lips, breaking the kiss to slowly brush his lips across her jaw. His hands had moved to rest on her hips, and he was slowly working to move her blouse, to be able to touch her bare skin.
“Yes.” Rose’s hands moved to rest against his chest, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt in the almost non-existent space between them. She raised her head, worry that perhaps the room was almost back to being fully serviceable washing through her. “Everything’s still shut down?”
“Aye. Willnae be working again for weeks.” He pulled back, creating space between them; his eyes were almost black, and she felt a warmth pool low in her belly as he gazed intently at her.
“No Penny this time?” she asked playfully, pausing in the middle of unbuttoning another of the small discs on his shirt.
“No Penny. Just us.” He hesitated, suddenly uncertain, his gaze faltering as he weighed whether to say anything further.
“Good.” Rose rocked forward, arching up to kiss him.
He returned the kiss with a smile, leaning forward backing her fully against the wall. She could feel him pressing into her, his body a warm counterpoint to the hard concrete of the wall behind her.
She was gasping for breath when Peter began to drift kisses across her neck; she tilted her head back, encouraging him, and fumbled blindly for his shirt, eager to finish the job she’d begun minutes before. Peter’s clever hands had found the bottom of her blouse, had slipped under the fabric now to rest against her waist, his palms almost blazingly hot; she arched into him, wanting him to do something more.
“Eager, Miss Tyler?” he murmured against her skin, his lips curved in a smile.
“You’re one to talk,” she retorted, slipping a hand down to cup his growing erection.
He straightened, taking a step back; she felt suddenly cold without his body flush against hers, and was unable to stifle a groan of protest. His smile broadened, becoming the lazy, knowing smile he’d already learned would turn her to jelly.
He leaned forward, careful not to touch her, making sure he had her attention as he came closer...closer...
“I’m going to shag you rotten, Rose Tyler. Right here, in this room.”
He must have heard her breath catch, had to be able to feel the heat flooding through her at the casually cocky statement. He pulled back, just enough to look at her, and continued, “But first...”
His hands found her skirt, gently pulling the material up, bunching it around her hips. She didn’t miss the brief furrow of his brow as he felt her knickers. They were lace, part of a matching set of lingerie she’d bought on a whim; Peter hadn’t seen them yet, and he paused to lean back in order to see what she was wearing.
“My, my, Rose...” He drifted his fingers across the line of the sheer white lace, rubbing back and forth, his touch light.
“Thought you’d like ‘em,” she said, proud when her voice didn’t catch. It wasn’t fair, the ability Peter had to render her speechless.
“Oh yes.” He pushed his hips against hers, whispering, “I’m particularly going to enjoy taking you out of them...later.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Later?”
“Indeed.” He leaned forward, his lips hovering just over hers. “I plan to shag you while you’re still in them.” He paused a beat, then closed the distance, his lips just barely brushing hers as his hand dipped under the lace of her knickers. His palm slid down her abdomen, his fingers ghosting across the curls at the join of her thighs then slipping through the wetness between her legs. Her hands clung to his shoulders as his fingers slid further back, finally dipping into her; she let out an embarrassing mewl, and was rewarded by his deepening their kiss.
He teased her mercilessly, his fingers dancing through her folds, rubbing her clit before sliding back to dip into her, almost but not quite setting up a rhythm; she bucked against him, wanting him to stop teasing her and do something, anything.
“What do you want, Rose?” he finally asked, pausing in his torment, watching her.
“You. Want you to make love to me...” She focused, wiggling her hand between them, her fingers dancing against his chest, sliding down his stomach to the catch on his trousers. He’d worn a belt, and she let out a noise of frustration as she came across the impediment. She brought her other hand to his waist, somehow managed to unbuckle the blasted belt, to unfasten his trousers; but he refused to move so she could unzip his fly.
“Where, Rose?” His hand was still in her knickers, but was frustratingly unmoving; she arched, trying to encourage him to carry on, and was disappointed when he instead slipped his hand from her knickers altogether. “Where?” he asked again, his voice lower, more insistent.
“Anywhere,” she replied, her body screaming for Peter as she watched him slowly lick his fingers clean. She reached forward, pulling him to her as he moved his hand away from his mouth; she kissed him fiercely, her tongue flicking across the roof of his mouth as she tried to make him as desperate as she was.
It worked. He surprised her, pulling her to him, turning them, walking them backwards to what had to be the table. She felt the metal press against the backs of her thighs, felt him help her to sit on the edge of the piece of furniture; she settled, finding a comfortable position, still kissing him. There was room between them now and she hurried to finish undoing his trousers, to grasp the zip and pull it down. Eager hands moved to the opening in his pants, reached through, found his penis; she freed him, her hand now holding his erection, loving the weight and warmth of him in her palm.
“God,” Peter choked out, resting his forehead against hers as she stroked upwards, as her thumb played with the head of his penis.
“I love how you feel in my hand, Peter,” she whispered, knowing that he loved to hear her talk to him during sex. He’d been in control long enough; it was time for her to take command for a bit.
“Yes,” he hissed, bucking into her hand as she stroked down, her hand hitting against the base of his erection now. She reached forward with her other hand, cupped his testicles; he braced his hands on either side of her hips, and she worried he might actually collapse as she slowly teased him, stroking and squeezing him in a slow, steady rhythm.
“I imagined doing this to you, here,” she said after several moments, watching him; how he was biting his lower lip as he concentrated, how his cheeks flushed pink as she drew him closer to his orgasm. “Imagined us, in here, doing this...”
His eyes opened, his gaze finding hers immediately. “What else did you imagine, Rose?” Peter’s voice was gravelly, breathless; his eyes bored into hers. He shifted, his right hand moving from where it rested on the edge of the table to her thigh, pulling her skirt up, out of the way again.
“I imaged you shagging me on this table, Peter...” She opened her legs for him as he straightened; she pouted as he pulled away, freeing himself from her hold.
“You’ll have to wait; now it’s my turn,” he admonished, once again in control.
Rose blinked, confused when Peter took a step back, and reached to pull his wallet out of his back pocket. He glanced up at her, giving her a small grin as he flipped the leather open, then extracted a small foil packet from within.
“Did you plan to seduce me, Peter?” Rose asked, delighted and embarrassed in equal measure.
“I always want to seduce you, Rose,” he replied seriously, opening the foil packet and slowly rolling the latex over his erection. “Always.”
He stood between her legs, leaning forward, kissing her gently; she was barely aware of him setting the wallet on the table before his hands moved, finding her sodding wet knickers, his fingers pushing the lace aside and plunging into her.
He deepened the kiss, swallowing her cry; and then he was gone, down on his knees in front of her, his damp fingers resting on her thighs and pushing them further apart so he could lean in to taste her.
She scooted forward, arching her back as he slowly danced his tongue across her flesh; she glanced down, watching as he tasted her, as he dipped his tongue into her, swirling it, then dancing the tip across her folds and clit. She was so close; it would take nothing at all for her to come, it would be so easy...
“Peter...not yet...please....” She reached down, gently threading her fingers through his hair, encouraging him to pull back as she tried to close her legs. Peter rocked back, blinking up at her dazedly, his lips covered with moisture. He held her gaze and she had the brief thought that he wasn’t going to do it, that he was going to make her come right then, without him; and then he pushed away from her and stood, calmly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I...” She didn’t know what to say, was worried that perhaps he’d be upset. Instead, he reached forward, cupping her jaw, gazing seriously at her.
“Together?” he asked softly, his eyes searching hers.
“Yeah.”
He kissed her, the sensation itself almost overwhelming, the taste of her on his tongue, the scent filling her sinuses. He continued to kiss her, his hands holding her to him, undemanding; and when he felt her relax, finally, he broke the kiss and pulled back to look at her.
“Alright?”
“Yeah,” she replied, reaching for his hips, pulling him towards her. He reached down, guiding his erection to her, pushing her knickers aside; she gasped as she felt him press against her, and let out a sob as he rocked forward, sheathing himself in her.
“Rose,” he groaned.
“God, yes,” she answered, hissing the words.
He pulled back, paused, then pressed forward again, harder, his skin slapping wetly against hers; then he set his pace, out, in, out in. The rhythm was fast, forceful-and he watched her the entire time, his gaze riveted to her. She, in turn, watched him as he shagged her on the table in the interrogation room, playing out a fantasy which she’d not expected to live out; watched how he watched her, watched where he rocked into her as she felt her orgasm coil tighter and tighter.
Minutes passed, the two of them focused entirely on each other, on reaching orgasm together.
“’s that going to make you come, then, Rose?” Peter grunted, shifting, changing the angle just a bit-just enough for her to gasp, to feel her release begin to unspool within her.
“Yes!” she gasped, arching, so close...
Her cries were swallowed by Peter as her orgasm exploded through her; she sobbed into their kiss as he continued to slam into her.
His thrusts grew more erratic, more sharp; and then he groaned into the kiss as he came, emptying into the condom as he was buried within her. She brought her legs around his hips, locking her ankles, holding him within her as he shook with the effort of his release.
He finally relaxed, breaking the kiss, resting his head against the curve of her neck once more. Rose brushed her hand across his sweat-soaked hair, reluctant to let him go, to lose the intimacy they were sharing.
He turned after a few moments, kissing her neck, then whispered, “Rose, I...I need to...”
She unlocked her ankles, letting him take a step back and slide out of her. He stifled a sigh of annoyance as he glanced around the room, then gave a small sound of victory as he found what he was after-a roll of paper towels, tucked away in the corner of the room.
“One would almost think you’d planned this,” she observed, bemused, as he slowly shuffled over to where the towel roll lay. She straightened her knickers, and pulled her skirt back down before leaning against the edge of the table.
He gave her a half-smile, concentrating on cleaning up before answering. “I didn’t, you know. Thought about it often enough that, just possibly, one could argue it was premeditated. But I didn’t take you to supper tonight with the intention of shagging you here in the station.”
He tucked himself back into his pants, and concentrated on buttoning his shirt as he continued, “I’ve been the fool as has had to clean this bloody room since you lot left; I knew there were towels here somewhere.”
“You’re a man of many hidden talents, Peter.”
He grinned. “Oh yes.” He finished tucking his shirt in, then buckled his belt. “But I’ll be a man in very, very deep trouble if we’re caught in here. Shall we go, Miss Tyler?” He crooked his arm, waiting for her to rest her hand there; she laughed, obliging him.
The station was still empty when they opened the door to the interrogation room, and they were able to dispose of the evidence of their wrongdoing and return to Peter’s car without seeing a single soul. By the time they were on the road through town, returning to Peter’s, it was almost as though it had all been a dream.
They didn’t speak again until they were safely back in Peter’s house, the front door secured behind them.
“We just shagged in the station,” Peter said, disbelief apparent in his tone.
“We did. You naughty, naughty man.” Rose advanced on Peter, slowly backing him against the door.
“Am I?”
“Oh yes.” She reached forward, untucking his shirt, slipping her fingers under his belt. “You seduced me,” she whispered.
“How terrible of me.”
“You’ll have to pay.” Her fingers were dancing down the line of his zip, and she could already feel him hardening again.
“Will I now?”
“Definitely.” She took a step back, giving him a grin. “Upstairs.”
She turned, running up the stairs, laughing as she heard Peter come after her.
~ fin ~