A Rediscovery Thing (1/1)
Title: A Rediscovery Thing
Rating: M
Characters: Peter Carlisle/Rose Tyler
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.
Written for: liber_noctuae
Prompt: First time Peter and Rose have sex after Lucy is born.
Notes: Written for the timestamp meme over at my LJ.
Huge thanks to earlgreytea68, chicklet73, and ginamak for their beta work and general advice. Fair warning: this fic had a 100% beta mortality rate. Which was a bit messy, really…
A Rediscovery Thing
Rose knew that Peter was struggling with the lack of physical intimacy between them since she’d had Lucy; the frequency of their lovemaking hadn’t diminished in their years together, and they’d grown so used to making love whenever they wanted, or to demonstrating their affection in other ways, that it had to be a challenge for him to suddenly find himself going without. And while she’d tried to help ease some of the discomfort for Peter-he’d fallen asleep more than once after Rose had helped bring him to orgasm-she’d not been surprised when, the weekend after Lucy’s naming ceremony, she’d come upstairs to find him in bed, trying to find some form of relief on his own. Lucy was napping in her cot, and Rose had been delighted to help Peter; but it was a disappointment to her to discover that, even if her body had been ready for sex, her libido still seemed to be on a bit of a holiday.
Once Peter recovered from his orgasm, after Rose had crawled up to lay next to him, he told her that it was a bit odd, having her go down on him-odd, because he saw her as Lucy’s mum as much as he saw her as his lover. It was an uncomfortable thing to be told-she felt that she was still Rose, after all--but his admission led to a long and frank discussion, and she felt that they were the better for it.
It wasn’t until twelve weeks after she’d had Lucy-three long months-that Rose finally felt somewhat back to her old self. She was still tired more often than not; still had weight which she wanted to lose, and was still a bit surprised by the size of her chest-but the pain she’d felt as her body recovered from childbirth was finally, permanently gone.
It was a relief, not worrying about doing something to bring the pain back.
And it was a relief to know that finally, she might be able to make love to Peter again. Not only was the pain absolutely gone, but she had suddenly started to crave having sex with Peter; felt the absence of their sex life keenly, in fact.
Lucy had started to refuse to nurse after a few weeks-Rose had panicked, at first, until the doctor had reassured her that it happened, sometimes-and after ten weeks, Rose had gone from expressing milk to using the surprisingly good baby formula available in Pete’s world. It made it easy, relatively, to call on her mum, to ask if perhaps Jackie would be willing to babysit Lucy for an evening so that she and Peter could have a proper date.
“You going to try for baby number two already?” Jackie replied, causing Rose to blush scarlet.
“Mum!” Rose was unable to meet her mum’s eye, and instead stared over at where Lucy was playing on her play mat.
Jackie relented. “It’ll do you good, gettin’ a night off. You think you can bear to be away from your little girl for more than an hour?”
Rose glanced back up to her mum, and answered, “I don’t know. But I think Peter and I need the time alone. Just a few hours.”
“I’d hardly keep her all night, Rose. Not until she can sleep the night through.”
“She’s almost there!”
“Five hours, Rose, is not ‘sleeping the night through’.”
“It’s all in what you’re used to.”
“I’m used to eight hours, minimum. How about I take her for the day instead, next Saturday? Show up nice and early, take her off for a day at the house, then you all come over for supper and bring her home?”
Rose smiled. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”
~ - ~
Rose had told Peter to be sure to take Saturday off, and he’d in turn told Elias that Rose would have his head if he had to come into work that day. But it wasn’t until Friday evening that Rose told him why she needed him to take the day off.
“Mum’s pickin’ up Lucy tomorrow morning,” Rose said as she washed the dishes.
He glanced up from where he was playing with Lucy, his usual post-dinner routine on nights when he cooked. “For what?”
“She’s minding her for the day.”
“Why?” He bounced his knee, grinning when Lucy smiled.
“So we could have the day together.” Rose placed the last dish in the small dishwasher, and turned to face him. “I…thought it would be nice. You an’ me, just us.”
Something in her voice caught his attention, and he focused on her. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. I mean, if you want-”
“I very much want, Rose.” She gave him a relieved smile, causing him to add, “Did you doubt that?”
“Well…I mean, you’d said you had this thing about me bein’ a mum, an’-”
“Rose. I know I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating. I will always want you.”
“Even if you’re a bit weirded out by shaggin’ a mum?”
“If you’re the mum in question, I think I’ll be fine with it.”
She grinned, then walked over to where he sat. Lucy was waving her arms as he bounced her, still smiling, and Rose moved to stand next to him. “She’s so happy.”
“Aye, she is,” he answered, glancing up to Rose.
“Wish she’d always stay like that,” she said wistfully.
“We’ll do what we can for her, Rose. It’s all we can do.”
“Yeah.”
He had a difficult time sleeping that night, knowing that in the morning he’d have Rose completely to himself; that in the morning, he’d finally be able to make love to his wife again, wouldn’t have to rely on getting himself off, or Rose going down on him, to find relief. Not that having Rose help him was particularly terrible; it was quite enjoyable. But it wasn’t making love to her, having her come around him, him releasing into her-the two of them joined intimately, as close as lovers could be.
As he lay there, knowing that they’d be able to make love the next day, he was hyperaware of her every movement; of the brush of her body against his as she shifted in her sleep; of how her nightgown offered tantalizing hints of her new curves as she slept while he provided Lucy with her middle-of-the-night feeding. He wanted her, so badly it almost ached-but he was also a bit terrified of what making love to her might be like. Would it be different? Would she like different things? What if he hurt her, without meaning to? His mind raced as he lay awake after feeding Lucy, his imagination coming up with all sorts of scenarios that ended with Rose in tears.
It was near to three by the time he finally gave up on sleeping at all. Brushing a kiss over Rose’s cheek, he rolled out of bed, pulled on his pyjamas, and padded out of the bedroom and downstairs to the library. The room was his sanctuary, full of books he’d collected or been given over the years, the centerpiece of the space a small but comfortable sofa upon which he could recline and read. He reached for one of the many books he owned on military history, and settled onto the couch.
Lucy’s cries pulled him from his book after several hours paging through it, reading about obscure yet pivotal battles on far-off shores. He closed the book, was about to go upstairs to take care of his daughter when he heard the muffled footsteps of Rose moving around above him. He tossed the book onto the table next to the sofa, standing and stretching, and then slowly made his way out of the room and towards the kitchen.
He’d put a pot of water on for the bottle and was already measuring out coffee by the time Rose arrived in the kitchen, Lucy cradled in her arm.
“Was wonderin’ where you’d got to,” she said sleepily, stopping to give him a kiss on the cheek before shuffling over to the table.
“Insomnia,” he said, moving to remove one of the bottles from the refrigerator and get it ready to be warmed.
Rose wrinkled her nose. “Been a while since you’ve had that.”
“It still happens, here and there. But it’s been a while since it’s been this bad.”
The coffee was ready right about the time the bottle was warmed properly, and he settled in with a steaming mug of coffee, black, as he watched Rose begin to feed their daughter.
“You sleep well?” he asked, taking a slow sip from his mug. The coffee was divine, and he let out an appreciative sigh as he set the mug down.
“Yeah.” Rose was watching Lucy, her finger stroking across their daughter’s cheek as she held the bottle. “Best I’ve slept in ages, actually.”
Peter nursed his coffee, imagining he could feel the caffeine spread through his body as he drank-and by the time Lucy was done being fed, he felt quite ready to face the day.
“Would ye like a spot of breakfast?” Rose had set the bottle aside and was winding Lucy, and he collected the dishes as he asked the question.
“Depends what’s on offer.”
“That, mo ghradh, depends upon when Jackie will be arriving.” He winked at her, then placed the dishes in the sink. “Regardless, however, I suspect we’ll be limited to the basics. We’re a bit low on things.”
“’m sorry, I meant to-“
“Rose, that wasn’t a scathing indictment of your ability to multi-task. It was meant as a simple observation.” He stopped going through the cabinets and turned, making sure to catch her eye. “In fact, I really ought to have stopped on my way home last evening-there were a few things I knew we needed, but it completely slipped my mind.”
“We’ll go later, then.”
“If there’s time,” he replied simply, turning back to rummage for food.
They settled on cereal for breakfast, Rose deftly holding Lucy with one arm whilst eating with the other. He finished first as a consequence, and quite happily took the baby from Rose, delighted to have the chance to play with their daughter yet again.
“You’re going to spoil her terribly.”
“Every chance I get.”
“She’ll be one of those horrible children who you always deride when we’re out.”
“Nonsense. She’s got us for parents-she’ll be smarter than that.” He leaned forward, cooing, “You’ll be the smartest lassie in the land.”
Rose was rolling her eyes when he looked up, and he burst into laughter. The suddenness of it startled Lucy, causing her to wail, which in turn caused Rose to laugh. “Peter, it does no good to startle your daughter like that. Here,” she reached for the crying baby. “Give her to me.”
He cradled Lucy in his arms, giving Rose a challenging look. “Are ye saying I cannae calm our bairn?”
Rose gave him a steady gaze, then slowly stood. “Not at all, Peter.” She collected the dishes as he rocked Lucy, trying to calm her. Rose walked over to him, brushed a kiss across his hair, and said softly, “I’ll be taking a shower.” She grinned as she sashayed out of the kitchen, leaving him and Lucy alone.
Lucy finally calmed down, her cries tapering off to wide-eyed wonder as she gazed up at him. He felt a sense of glee at the thought that he’d been right-that he had indeed been able to calm their daughter down. And then he noticed her soiled nappy.
~ - ~
Rose emerged from the shower after almost a half-hour-the longest shower she’d had in months, without question, in spite of the help Peter and her mum had provided in looking after Lucy. It had felt heavenly, just letting herself relax under the hot spray of water, and she emerged into the cool of the bedroom, robe wrapped snugly around her, to find Peter had gone to sleep.
Lucy was with him, resting on his chest, and Peter appeared to be out cold. It was a heartwarming scene, but she wondered if Peter realized just how dangerous it could be, sleeping like that in their bed: he might roll over, or Lucy might slip off of his chest or fall onto the floor…
Rose took a step towards the bed, and was startled when Peter slowly opened one eye. “Ye’re done,” he drawled sleepily.
“Yeah. Thank you.”
He opened his other eye, focusing on her as she neared the bed. “For what?” he asked softly.
“For lettin’ me take a shower.”
“Rose, I let you take showers all the time.” His tone was bemused, and he brought a hand to gently stroke Lucy’s back.
“Yeah, but…don’t often get one like that, do I? ‘s nice.” She leaned forward, kissing his cheek. “Thank you.”
Remorse flickered across Peter’s face, but he said nothing more about it. “When’s Jackie coming?”
Rose turned to glance at the clock. “Oh! She’ll be here in no time at all. I have to get Lucy’s things ready…” She leapt up from the bed, and hurried downstairs to collect Lucy’s favorite toys from the parlour. The baby bag was always at the ready, settled next to the front door, and she deposited a pile of toys next to it before moving back to the kitchen to get together enough bottles to get Lucy through the day.
She heard Peter come down the stairs, and then felt him move to stand behind her, his hands moving to her hips, his lips brushing against the curve of her neck. “Relax, Rose,” he whispered, placing another kiss against her shoulder.
“But Mum’ll be here…”
“Indeed she will. But she’s got everything she needs to take care of Lucy, surely. Well, except the bottles.”
“Where is Lucy?” Rose turned, looking over Peter’s shoulder as though their daughter might be standing behind him. She glanced back to him, and saw him trying not to laugh. “What?”
“She’s on her play mat, Rose. I’m hardly going to leave her lying about on our bed, or even upstairs. Not when Jackie’ll be here any minute.”
“Did you dress her?” She moved to go around Peter, but was held in place by his hands on her hips.
“No, Rose-I thought it might save on laundry and nappies if we sent her over without a stitch on her.”
It took Rose a moment to realize he was teasing her. “Very funny,” she grumbled as he pulled her into a hug.
“I thought so.” He kissed the crown of her head, then released her. “Honestly, Rose-I do have some minor native instinct on this thing. Not much, I admit, but enough. She’s in a wee shirt-type thing, and a fresh nappy and the pair of ridiculous miniature trousers that your mum bought for her.”
“Does she match?”
“Does it matter?”
Rose felt a flash of annoyance. “Yes!” It didn’t, really, but she found herself in the mood to row with Peter, all of a sudden-to demonstrate, perhaps, that Lucy might need her mum more than her da, even if it was for something so simple as being dressed properly.
Peter gazed evenly at her. “Would you like to go see what she’s wearing, and decide for yourself? We both know I can’t dress myself with a guidebook.”
She nodded and Peter turned, leading her to the parlour. Lucy lay on her back on the play mat, a chubby arm flailing at one of the brightly-coloured plush toys dangling over her. She was, as Peter had said, wearing the small trousers Jackie had bought for her-the garish colours meant to depict flowers, no doubt, although Peter had suggested they more accurately resembled the McCoys’ parlour after the twins had refused their food. The tiny shirt was a happy, bright pink-and it matched the trousers perfectly.
“I thought you swore never to dress her in pink,” Rose muttered, watching as Peter moved over to Lucy and settled on the floor next to her.
“It was in the clean drawer, and it was right next to these.” He gently grabbed one of Lucy’s legs, and playfully tugged at it, eliciting a squeal of happiness from her. “I deduced that perhaps you were indicating what items might match.” He released Lucy’s leg, and glanced up at her. “Besides, your mum loves pink and-God help our daughter-she likes those trousers. May as well make Jackie happy, too.”
Rose felt tears prick at her eyes, and felt a flood of guilt at trying to goad Peter into a fight. He tactfully looked away, having slowly figured out when Rose might genuinely be upset versus when she might simply be battling emotions left over from the flood of hormones in her system, and he happily began to speak to Lucy in Gaelic, his nimble fingers reaching to move the various plush toys suspended over the mat, drawing Lucy’s attention.
Rose hastily wiped her eyes, and moved to join them. Peter gave her a small smile as she settled across from him; and when she moved to gently tickle Lucy’s tummy, their daughter rewarded her by kicking her legs and flailing her arms in a show of happiness.
Her mum arrived not long after to find Peter sprawled on the floor and holding Lucy above him. Rose had shown him how to play aeroplane, and he was moving his arms and making buzzing sounds as he let Lucy “fly” over him. The baby loved it, and threatened to cry each time he tried to rest his arms.
“Maybe if she’s lucky, she’ll actually get to fly on one, one of these days,” Jackie observed from the doorway, having let herself in the front door.
“Only if Dad gets cracking on making jets more than an oddity.” Rose stood, and reached down for Lucy. Peter made sure Rose had a hold of her before rolling over and pushing himself up to stand.
“He keeps sayin’ he will…”
“Mmmhm.” Rose walked over to her mum and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Y’ready to see Gran?” she asked Lucy, bouncing her on her hip.
“Don’t know that I’ll ever get used to that,” Jackie observed, reaching forward for Lucy. “Hello, pretty girl!”
Lucy gazed over to her Gran, not quite sure what to make of the woman in front of her.
“You’d think she’d never seen me before,” Jackie observed, taking Lucy from Rose.
“She’ll remember you, soon enough.”
“I hope so-not sure I’ll be able to take a day of her yelling for her mum.”
“She’ll not yell for her mum, Mum.” Rose curved her lips into an impish smile. “She might yell for her da. In which case you’ll have to read Burns to her.”
“How will I tell the difference?”
“Trial and error,” Peter offered.
“You two,” Jackie replied, exasperatedly amused. “I’ll plan to have supper laid out by six-that’s enough time to eat and have her home for her bedtime routine, yeah?”
“Yeah, Mum.” Rose followed her mum out into the hall, and reached forward to gently tease her fingertips down Lucy’s arm when Jackie stopped.
“Call us if you need anything,” Peter offered, bending down to pick up the baby bag and several of the toys. Rose was helping her mum to pull on Lucy’s tiny winter jacket-not strictly necessary given the relative warmth of the spring, but still something Rose wanted her daughter to wear.
“Honestly, you two. I’ve raised a few children before, you know. And the last thing I’m goin’ t’do today is ring either of you. I’ll see you at six, and that’s the next time you’ll hear from me.”
Peter carried the items out to where the car was waiting, Jackie’s usual driver giving them a wave from where he sat behind the wheel. Lucy was secured in the carseat-an odd thing to see in the back of a limousine; Jackie placed kisses on Rose and Peter’s cheeks; and then they were alone.
“Well, then.” Rose turned to Peter, suddenly feeling the chill of late spring.
“Indeed. Care to go inside, Mrs. Carlisle?” He pulled her to his side, rubbing her arm.
“Yeah.” She smiled up at Peter, and joined him as he turned and walked to the front door.
~ - ~
He’d not meant to, but at some point after Lucy left, Peter had fallen asleep. Rose had wanted to take care of the morning’s dishes-he’d not done them, not with Lucy fussing, and then needing a change-and he’d thought he would just sneak upstairs for a shower and quick kip. He’d not even made it to the shower, the lure of the bed simply too much to resist.
“Peter.” The sound of Rose’s voice was accompanied by the sensation of her fingers gently brushing across his cheek, pulling him from his sleep.
“Mmmm?” It felt delicious lying there in bed, surrounded by relaxing warmth, Rose next to him, whispering to him…
“It’s almost noon, love.”
His eyes flew open. “Noon?” he managed, his voice hoarse.
“Noon.” Rose smiled at him. “Thought you might want to be up for lunch.”
“’s that all?” he asked, focusing on her.
“Well, no.” Rose’s smile turned seductive. “But that’s for later.”
He pouted. “Later?”
“Later.” She moved to stand; he held onto her hand, gently tugging her down to him.
“Why not now?” He’d been dreaming of her-of making love to her-and his body was still singing from it.
Rose looked at him; then her hand drifted down, sliding over the fabric of the duvet, coming to rest right over his erection. “And what were you dreaming of, Mister Carlisle?” she asked, pressing down, causing his eyes to flutter shut.
“You. Us. Having sex.”
“Oh?” She moved her hand in a circle, keeping the pressure against his groin.
“Yes,” he hissed, arching.
She said nothing, simply moved so she could slide her hand under the duvet; could push the fabric back and slip her hand under his pants. He groaned at her touch, his hand drifting to her hair.
She deftly freed him, her hand wrapping around his erection; and then her fist slowly slid upwards, the friction exquisite. He flexed his hand in her hair, pulling her towards him for a kiss.
“You didn’t imagine me doing this?” she whispered against his lips, her hand slowly sliding down his penis, then dragging upwards again.
“No,” he ground out, his hips lifting off the bed as her thumb played with the head of his erection. She stroked downwards again, then twisted her wrist on the upstroke. “Yes, god…”
He was dimly aware of Rose moving, of her taking him in her mouth just before he came with a shout. She continued to stroke him as his orgasm waned, her tongue sliding along his erection as the warmth of her mouth surrounded him.
“Rose,” he finally said, utterly spent. He slipped his fingers from her hair, watched her raise her head; and he pulled her to him for a slow, lingering kiss.
“Not what I had in mind when I heard we’d have the day to ourselves,” he finally murmured as they broke their kiss.
“Not what I had in mind, either. But, well…not like I was gonna leave you to suffer alone, yeah?” She smiled at him, her fingers drifting across his cheek. “’sides, we have a few hours left, yet.”
“Mmmm.” He sighed, felt sleep slowly drift over him again.
“I’ll let you sleep,” she whispered, pulling away.
“Wake me in a half hour…” he mumbled as sleep reclaimed him.
He wasn’t sure if it had been a half-hour or longer when Rose re-woke him. He did know that he could smell food, and that she was not on the bed.
“Time t’ wake up, Peter,” Rose said, her voice full of laughter.
He forced himself to open his eyes, to wake up properly. Rose had managed to arrange a day for just the two of them, and he was rather stupidly sleeping it away.
“’m ‘wake,” he mumbled, blearily pushing himself up on his elbows.
Rose gave him a knowing smile, and reached over to the nightstand. “I’m not sure ‘bout that. But here’s a bit of lunch for you.”
He sat upright, accepting the plate Rose handed over. It held a small sandwich, with the crusts cut off, and he looked up in confusion to find Rose laughing.
“’s how Matthew takes his sandwiches, when he’s tired. Thought you might be the same.” She danced away when he lunged for her, giggling, and admonished, “Eat that. Take a shower. Then we’ll talk about more adult activities, yeah?” Her laughter faded, replaced by the smile she used only with him.
He watched Rose slowly walk out of their room and he hastily wolfed down the sandwich, then chased it with the glass of water she’d set on the nightstand. He set the dishes back on the stand with a clatter, and hurried over to the en-suite, eager to shower and see what Rose had in mind.
What she had in mind, apparently, involved the shower: He’d managed to wash his hair, was rinsing the suds out, when he felt a swirl of cool air within the space. And then Rose was in there with him, her hands massaging his hair as he stood under the spray.
He stepped forward, wiped his hand across his eyes to clear them of water, and pinned her with his gaze. “Are ye trying to seduce me in our shower?”
Rose tilted her head, smiling. “Maybe.” Wisps of her hair were curling in the steam; water was beginning to collect on her skin, running in teasing if short rivulets across her curves.
“Our first time making love in months, and you want to do it in the shower?” he asked, voice low, taking another step towards her.
“I didn’t say that, did I?” She turned, reaching behind her for the soap, and began to lather it. “C’mere.”
He obligingly stepped to her, watching as she began to slide her hands across his skin. His eyes followed the path of her hands as she washed him, her tongue peeping out from the corner of her mouth as she concentrated. Her eyes flickered to his when she was done; and then she gently pushed him backwards, into the spray of water, her fingers slipping across his skin as she made sure he was clean.
“There we are, all clean,” she said when she was done, leaning forward so she could reach around him to turn off the water. He waited until she’d successfully turned the taps, and then he reached for her, pulling her to him, kissing her as he backed her against the wall of the stall.
“I love you,” he said fiercely after breaking the kiss, stepping back and dragging his eyes up her body. Off her surprised expression, he elaborated, “I love how you look.” He reached a hand out, slowly drifting it down her side. “I love what being a mum has done to you.”
Rose blushed, stammering, “Put on a bit of weight, an-”
“You’re gorgeous, Rose. I love it-love how beautiful you are. I love that there are new curves-” he brushed his knuckles against the side of her breast, eliciting a soft sigh, and then he slid his hand to her hip. “And I want you, more than I ever thought possible.”
Rose gazed at him, her eyes large and dark, her cheeks pink. He leaned in, suddenly desperate to taste her; his mouth found hers in the sensuous open-mouthed kiss that always left him weak in the knees. “I,” he whispered around their kiss, “ache for you.” His hands cradled her jaw as he gentled the kiss, and her hands slid around his waist, coming to rest at the small of his back. His erection pressed into her stomach, providing some small measure of relief, but he was almost desperate to be buried in her.
Not in the shower, though. Not against the cold hard wall, not their first time after Lucy. He wanted to feel Rose under him, his body pressing against her soft curves, his wife-the mother of his child-looking up at him as she came around him.
He tore himself away from the kiss, his hands sliding from Rose’s face as he took a step back. He physically ached at the loss of contact, and he moved with alacrity to open the shower door and reach for the towel. He started to dry off, only to be stopped by Rose, who took the towel from his hand.
“Let me,” she whispered, her eyes dark as she gazed at him.
“I…Rose…I…” He was so close to orgasm; to have her touch him, right at that moment, would surely make him come. He eyes closed as he tried to bring himself under control, taking a deep breath.
He reopened them to find her watching him calmly. It helped him, somehow, to relax, and he was able to watch with some small degree of equanimity as she dried herself off. She took care to keep far enough away from him that she’d not accidentally touch him, and when she was done she handed the towel over.
She stood near to him as he made a cursory effort to get the water off his skin, her eyes following his hands as they roved across his body. When he was done, she reached forward, taking the towel from him, and tossed it aside.
“I have missed you. So much,” she whispered, closing the distance between them, her body pressing against his as she leaned up to kiss him.
He let out a whimper at the sensation, her warmth almost burning after the cool of air against his damp skin. Her hands slipped over his shoulders, up into his hair, and she pulled him down as she deepened the kiss.
He walked her to the bedroom, bumping into all sorts of things as he tried to navigate them while still giving her a thorough kissing. And then, mercifully, they were at the bed, the welcoming softness of the mattress inviting them both in.
He didn’t break the kiss as he lowered her to the bed, as they moved further onto the mattress. Her hands never left his hair, Rose’s kiss growing almost desperate as he covered her body with his.
He pulled back, gasping, kneeling between her legs; she blinked her eyes open, gazing up at him dazedly.
“Condom,” he muttered, reaching over to the bedside table, hoping against hope that what they had in there would still be good. He was pleasantly surprised to find Rose had been to the chemists at some point recently, and he was unable to keep from grinning foolishly as he pulled the small box out of the drawer.
“Someone was expecting to be rather naughty,” he teased, leaning back on his haunches as he opened the box.
“If not for the exhaustion and the general ache, I’d have been naughtier far sooner than this,” Rose said, pushing herself upright, reaching forward to take him in her hand while he wrestled with the line of foil packets.
He paused, reaching down, moving her hand away then waggling his finger at her in admonishment. “Naughty, naughty Rose. None of that if ye want a proper shag.”
She gazed up at him, coquettish, and he tossed the box as well as the unneeded condoms onto the floor once he finally separated one of the foil packets from its mates. She continued to watch him as he tore it open, and then as he rolled it on.
And then she turned, reaching over to the drawer, pulling out a small tube. She glanced up at him as she unscrewed it, and said simply, “Think this might help, this time.”
She squeezed some of the clear gel into her hand, recapped the tube and tossed it aside; and then she leaned forward, her hand sliding over his erection, the gel cold at first and then slowly warming up as she made sure to coat the condom with it.
Peter felt his breath hitch as he then watched Rose’s hand shift from him to her, sliding down between her legs, sharing out the moisture. She watched him the entire time, her eyes dark, her lips red and full. Her breasts-fuller than they had been before she became pregnant-were tantalizingly in reach, and he leaned forward to drift his tongue across the skin.
“Peter,” Rose hissed, her hand moving from between her legs. “I want you,” she added, almost whimpering, as he moved a hand to rest gently against her ribs.
“You’re sure you’re ok?” he asked, not wanting to stop but terrified of hurting her.
“God yes,” she bit out, her hips arching off the bed as the backs of his fingers skimmed the underside of her breast.
He pulled back, reaching down and guiding himself to her. She watched him as he gently pushed forward, his tip pressing into her slowly at first, then his length sheathing within her far more quickly than he was used to due to the lubricant.
Rose hissed, arching; he paused, not sure if the noise was pleasure or pain.
“Do it again,” she said, opening her eyes, holding his gaze.
“Like this?” He withdrew, then pressed into her in a steady motion.
“Just like that. God, yes.” He repeated the action, and Rose murmured, “Missed this. So much.” Rose planted her feet on the mattress, and arched up into him, meeting his thrust. “Yes,” she hissed.
He leaned forward, kissing her, setting a steady rhythm, harder than she’d liked before; she thrust up to meet him each time, their skin slapping wetly together as they made love. Rose stroked her tongue against the roof of his mouth, just flickering teases, meant to drive him mad; it had the result of encouraging him to speed up, to drive harder into her, to focus even more on bringing them both to orgasm, together.
Rose broke the kiss after many moments, panting, pulling him down to dance her tongue around the shell of his ear. “Make me come, Peter. Make me scream your name.” The words were panted, her breath hot against his ear; they had the effect of unleashing his own orgasm, leading him to bark out her name as he arched, pushing into her, pulsing into the condom.
Rose reached between them, her fingers wiggling as she sought to find her own release; and then he felt her clench around him, causing him to groan as the last of his orgasm unfurled.
He collapsed with a gasp as he felt Rose’s orgasm wane, almost shaking from the exertion; Rose, used to having his body weight on her after they’d made love, gave a contented sound as he did it, her fingers immediately moving to his hair, stroking through it as they both caught their breath.
“Missed you,” she whispered once they had both stopped panting, placing a soft kiss against the corner of his jaw.
He held her to him as he rolled them, slipping out of her as he settled on his back. She looked down at him, her cheeks bright pink, her hair mussed, her eyes dark; and he drifted his knuckles across her skin. “I’ve missed you, too. My gorgeous wife.” He leaned up, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Mother of my child.”
She let out a yawn, looking mortified when it had passed; Peter, however, laughed, his hands moving to rest on her back.
“’m sorry!” Rose squeaked, burying her face against his shoulder. “And after you’d said such lovely things, too.”
He kissed her hair, his hands rubbing her back. “I would imagine you’re a bit knackered, Rose.”
She nodded, letting out a soft sigh. He could feel her relaxing already, knew she’d be asleep in minutes, if not moments. “Let me get cleaned up, and we can have a lazy afternoon nap together. ‘s that sound good?” He patted her back, raised a shoulder, and was rewarded with Rose sleepily sliding off of him and onto her side of the bed.
By the time he returned to the bedroom, Rose was sound asleep, curled on her side under the deep red duvet. He cracked open a window then moved to join her, brushing a kiss across her cheek before wrapping an arm around her and slowly drifting to sleep.
~ fin ~
End Notes: And, with that, I’m headed out on vacation for two weeks. Part of vacation, for me, will actually be taking a proper break from posting and writing-but, while I’m gone, I’ve asked several authors to step in and share out a few Peter/Rose stories of their own. chicklet73, wildwinterwitch, caraskye, and xebgoc will each be covering one of my usual posting days. Hopefully, they’ll share out their stories at the_rspcpc as well as at their personal journals; and I’ll try my best to get links up to their stories from here in a timely manner. *hugs* Thanks, you guys, for covering!! I can’t *wait* to read your stories!
Rating: M
Characters: Peter Carlisle/Rose Tyler
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.
Written for: liber_noctuae
Prompt: First time Peter and Rose have sex after Lucy is born.
Notes: Written for the timestamp meme over at my LJ.
Huge thanks to earlgreytea68, chicklet73, and ginamak for their beta work and general advice. Fair warning: this fic had a 100% beta mortality rate. Which was a bit messy, really…
A Rediscovery Thing
Rose knew that Peter was struggling with the lack of physical intimacy between them since she’d had Lucy; the frequency of their lovemaking hadn’t diminished in their years together, and they’d grown so used to making love whenever they wanted, or to demonstrating their affection in other ways, that it had to be a challenge for him to suddenly find himself going without. And while she’d tried to help ease some of the discomfort for Peter-he’d fallen asleep more than once after Rose had helped bring him to orgasm-she’d not been surprised when, the weekend after Lucy’s naming ceremony, she’d come upstairs to find him in bed, trying to find some form of relief on his own. Lucy was napping in her cot, and Rose had been delighted to help Peter; but it was a disappointment to her to discover that, even if her body had been ready for sex, her libido still seemed to be on a bit of a holiday.
Once Peter recovered from his orgasm, after Rose had crawled up to lay next to him, he told her that it was a bit odd, having her go down on him-odd, because he saw her as Lucy’s mum as much as he saw her as his lover. It was an uncomfortable thing to be told-she felt that she was still Rose, after all--but his admission led to a long and frank discussion, and she felt that they were the better for it.
It wasn’t until twelve weeks after she’d had Lucy-three long months-that Rose finally felt somewhat back to her old self. She was still tired more often than not; still had weight which she wanted to lose, and was still a bit surprised by the size of her chest-but the pain she’d felt as her body recovered from childbirth was finally, permanently gone.
It was a relief, not worrying about doing something to bring the pain back.
And it was a relief to know that finally, she might be able to make love to Peter again. Not only was the pain absolutely gone, but she had suddenly started to crave having sex with Peter; felt the absence of their sex life keenly, in fact.
Lucy had started to refuse to nurse after a few weeks-Rose had panicked, at first, until the doctor had reassured her that it happened, sometimes-and after ten weeks, Rose had gone from expressing milk to using the surprisingly good baby formula available in Pete’s world. It made it easy, relatively, to call on her mum, to ask if perhaps Jackie would be willing to babysit Lucy for an evening so that she and Peter could have a proper date.
“You going to try for baby number two already?” Jackie replied, causing Rose to blush scarlet.
“Mum!” Rose was unable to meet her mum’s eye, and instead stared over at where Lucy was playing on her play mat.
Jackie relented. “It’ll do you good, gettin’ a night off. You think you can bear to be away from your little girl for more than an hour?”
Rose glanced back up to her mum, and answered, “I don’t know. But I think Peter and I need the time alone. Just a few hours.”
“I’d hardly keep her all night, Rose. Not until she can sleep the night through.”
“She’s almost there!”
“Five hours, Rose, is not ‘sleeping the night through’.”
“It’s all in what you’re used to.”
“I’m used to eight hours, minimum. How about I take her for the day instead, next Saturday? Show up nice and early, take her off for a day at the house, then you all come over for supper and bring her home?”
Rose smiled. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”
~ - ~
Rose had told Peter to be sure to take Saturday off, and he’d in turn told Elias that Rose would have his head if he had to come into work that day. But it wasn’t until Friday evening that Rose told him why she needed him to take the day off.
“Mum’s pickin’ up Lucy tomorrow morning,” Rose said as she washed the dishes.
He glanced up from where he was playing with Lucy, his usual post-dinner routine on nights when he cooked. “For what?”
“She’s minding her for the day.”
“Why?” He bounced his knee, grinning when Lucy smiled.
“So we could have the day together.” Rose placed the last dish in the small dishwasher, and turned to face him. “I…thought it would be nice. You an’ me, just us.”
Something in her voice caught his attention, and he focused on her. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. I mean, if you want-”
“I very much want, Rose.” She gave him a relieved smile, causing him to add, “Did you doubt that?”
“Well…I mean, you’d said you had this thing about me bein’ a mum, an’-”
“Rose. I know I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating. I will always want you.”
“Even if you’re a bit weirded out by shaggin’ a mum?”
“If you’re the mum in question, I think I’ll be fine with it.”
She grinned, then walked over to where he sat. Lucy was waving her arms as he bounced her, still smiling, and Rose moved to stand next to him. “She’s so happy.”
“Aye, she is,” he answered, glancing up to Rose.
“Wish she’d always stay like that,” she said wistfully.
“We’ll do what we can for her, Rose. It’s all we can do.”
“Yeah.”
He had a difficult time sleeping that night, knowing that in the morning he’d have Rose completely to himself; that in the morning, he’d finally be able to make love to his wife again, wouldn’t have to rely on getting himself off, or Rose going down on him, to find relief. Not that having Rose help him was particularly terrible; it was quite enjoyable. But it wasn’t making love to her, having her come around him, him releasing into her-the two of them joined intimately, as close as lovers could be.
As he lay there, knowing that they’d be able to make love the next day, he was hyperaware of her every movement; of the brush of her body against his as she shifted in her sleep; of how her nightgown offered tantalizing hints of her new curves as she slept while he provided Lucy with her middle-of-the-night feeding. He wanted her, so badly it almost ached-but he was also a bit terrified of what making love to her might be like. Would it be different? Would she like different things? What if he hurt her, without meaning to? His mind raced as he lay awake after feeding Lucy, his imagination coming up with all sorts of scenarios that ended with Rose in tears.
It was near to three by the time he finally gave up on sleeping at all. Brushing a kiss over Rose’s cheek, he rolled out of bed, pulled on his pyjamas, and padded out of the bedroom and downstairs to the library. The room was his sanctuary, full of books he’d collected or been given over the years, the centerpiece of the space a small but comfortable sofa upon which he could recline and read. He reached for one of the many books he owned on military history, and settled onto the couch.
Lucy’s cries pulled him from his book after several hours paging through it, reading about obscure yet pivotal battles on far-off shores. He closed the book, was about to go upstairs to take care of his daughter when he heard the muffled footsteps of Rose moving around above him. He tossed the book onto the table next to the sofa, standing and stretching, and then slowly made his way out of the room and towards the kitchen.
He’d put a pot of water on for the bottle and was already measuring out coffee by the time Rose arrived in the kitchen, Lucy cradled in her arm.
“Was wonderin’ where you’d got to,” she said sleepily, stopping to give him a kiss on the cheek before shuffling over to the table.
“Insomnia,” he said, moving to remove one of the bottles from the refrigerator and get it ready to be warmed.
Rose wrinkled her nose. “Been a while since you’ve had that.”
“It still happens, here and there. But it’s been a while since it’s been this bad.”
The coffee was ready right about the time the bottle was warmed properly, and he settled in with a steaming mug of coffee, black, as he watched Rose begin to feed their daughter.
“You sleep well?” he asked, taking a slow sip from his mug. The coffee was divine, and he let out an appreciative sigh as he set the mug down.
“Yeah.” Rose was watching Lucy, her finger stroking across their daughter’s cheek as she held the bottle. “Best I’ve slept in ages, actually.”
Peter nursed his coffee, imagining he could feel the caffeine spread through his body as he drank-and by the time Lucy was done being fed, he felt quite ready to face the day.
“Would ye like a spot of breakfast?” Rose had set the bottle aside and was winding Lucy, and he collected the dishes as he asked the question.
“Depends what’s on offer.”
“That, mo ghradh, depends upon when Jackie will be arriving.” He winked at her, then placed the dishes in the sink. “Regardless, however, I suspect we’ll be limited to the basics. We’re a bit low on things.”
“’m sorry, I meant to-“
“Rose, that wasn’t a scathing indictment of your ability to multi-task. It was meant as a simple observation.” He stopped going through the cabinets and turned, making sure to catch her eye. “In fact, I really ought to have stopped on my way home last evening-there were a few things I knew we needed, but it completely slipped my mind.”
“We’ll go later, then.”
“If there’s time,” he replied simply, turning back to rummage for food.
They settled on cereal for breakfast, Rose deftly holding Lucy with one arm whilst eating with the other. He finished first as a consequence, and quite happily took the baby from Rose, delighted to have the chance to play with their daughter yet again.
“You’re going to spoil her terribly.”
“Every chance I get.”
“She’ll be one of those horrible children who you always deride when we’re out.”
“Nonsense. She’s got us for parents-she’ll be smarter than that.” He leaned forward, cooing, “You’ll be the smartest lassie in the land.”
Rose was rolling her eyes when he looked up, and he burst into laughter. The suddenness of it startled Lucy, causing her to wail, which in turn caused Rose to laugh. “Peter, it does no good to startle your daughter like that. Here,” she reached for the crying baby. “Give her to me.”
He cradled Lucy in his arms, giving Rose a challenging look. “Are ye saying I cannae calm our bairn?”
Rose gave him a steady gaze, then slowly stood. “Not at all, Peter.” She collected the dishes as he rocked Lucy, trying to calm her. Rose walked over to him, brushed a kiss across his hair, and said softly, “I’ll be taking a shower.” She grinned as she sashayed out of the kitchen, leaving him and Lucy alone.
Lucy finally calmed down, her cries tapering off to wide-eyed wonder as she gazed up at him. He felt a sense of glee at the thought that he’d been right-that he had indeed been able to calm their daughter down. And then he noticed her soiled nappy.
~ - ~
Rose emerged from the shower after almost a half-hour-the longest shower she’d had in months, without question, in spite of the help Peter and her mum had provided in looking after Lucy. It had felt heavenly, just letting herself relax under the hot spray of water, and she emerged into the cool of the bedroom, robe wrapped snugly around her, to find Peter had gone to sleep.
Lucy was with him, resting on his chest, and Peter appeared to be out cold. It was a heartwarming scene, but she wondered if Peter realized just how dangerous it could be, sleeping like that in their bed: he might roll over, or Lucy might slip off of his chest or fall onto the floor…
Rose took a step towards the bed, and was startled when Peter slowly opened one eye. “Ye’re done,” he drawled sleepily.
“Yeah. Thank you.”
He opened his other eye, focusing on her as she neared the bed. “For what?” he asked softly.
“For lettin’ me take a shower.”
“Rose, I let you take showers all the time.” His tone was bemused, and he brought a hand to gently stroke Lucy’s back.
“Yeah, but…don’t often get one like that, do I? ‘s nice.” She leaned forward, kissing his cheek. “Thank you.”
Remorse flickered across Peter’s face, but he said nothing more about it. “When’s Jackie coming?”
Rose turned to glance at the clock. “Oh! She’ll be here in no time at all. I have to get Lucy’s things ready…” She leapt up from the bed, and hurried downstairs to collect Lucy’s favorite toys from the parlour. The baby bag was always at the ready, settled next to the front door, and she deposited a pile of toys next to it before moving back to the kitchen to get together enough bottles to get Lucy through the day.
She heard Peter come down the stairs, and then felt him move to stand behind her, his hands moving to her hips, his lips brushing against the curve of her neck. “Relax, Rose,” he whispered, placing another kiss against her shoulder.
“But Mum’ll be here…”
“Indeed she will. But she’s got everything she needs to take care of Lucy, surely. Well, except the bottles.”
“Where is Lucy?” Rose turned, looking over Peter’s shoulder as though their daughter might be standing behind him. She glanced back to him, and saw him trying not to laugh. “What?”
“She’s on her play mat, Rose. I’m hardly going to leave her lying about on our bed, or even upstairs. Not when Jackie’ll be here any minute.”
“Did you dress her?” She moved to go around Peter, but was held in place by his hands on her hips.
“No, Rose-I thought it might save on laundry and nappies if we sent her over without a stitch on her.”
It took Rose a moment to realize he was teasing her. “Very funny,” she grumbled as he pulled her into a hug.
“I thought so.” He kissed the crown of her head, then released her. “Honestly, Rose-I do have some minor native instinct on this thing. Not much, I admit, but enough. She’s in a wee shirt-type thing, and a fresh nappy and the pair of ridiculous miniature trousers that your mum bought for her.”
“Does she match?”
“Does it matter?”
Rose felt a flash of annoyance. “Yes!” It didn’t, really, but she found herself in the mood to row with Peter, all of a sudden-to demonstrate, perhaps, that Lucy might need her mum more than her da, even if it was for something so simple as being dressed properly.
Peter gazed evenly at her. “Would you like to go see what she’s wearing, and decide for yourself? We both know I can’t dress myself with a guidebook.”
She nodded and Peter turned, leading her to the parlour. Lucy lay on her back on the play mat, a chubby arm flailing at one of the brightly-coloured plush toys dangling over her. She was, as Peter had said, wearing the small trousers Jackie had bought for her-the garish colours meant to depict flowers, no doubt, although Peter had suggested they more accurately resembled the McCoys’ parlour after the twins had refused their food. The tiny shirt was a happy, bright pink-and it matched the trousers perfectly.
“I thought you swore never to dress her in pink,” Rose muttered, watching as Peter moved over to Lucy and settled on the floor next to her.
“It was in the clean drawer, and it was right next to these.” He gently grabbed one of Lucy’s legs, and playfully tugged at it, eliciting a squeal of happiness from her. “I deduced that perhaps you were indicating what items might match.” He released Lucy’s leg, and glanced up at her. “Besides, your mum loves pink and-God help our daughter-she likes those trousers. May as well make Jackie happy, too.”
Rose felt tears prick at her eyes, and felt a flood of guilt at trying to goad Peter into a fight. He tactfully looked away, having slowly figured out when Rose might genuinely be upset versus when she might simply be battling emotions left over from the flood of hormones in her system, and he happily began to speak to Lucy in Gaelic, his nimble fingers reaching to move the various plush toys suspended over the mat, drawing Lucy’s attention.
Rose hastily wiped her eyes, and moved to join them. Peter gave her a small smile as she settled across from him; and when she moved to gently tickle Lucy’s tummy, their daughter rewarded her by kicking her legs and flailing her arms in a show of happiness.
Her mum arrived not long after to find Peter sprawled on the floor and holding Lucy above him. Rose had shown him how to play aeroplane, and he was moving his arms and making buzzing sounds as he let Lucy “fly” over him. The baby loved it, and threatened to cry each time he tried to rest his arms.
“Maybe if she’s lucky, she’ll actually get to fly on one, one of these days,” Jackie observed from the doorway, having let herself in the front door.
“Only if Dad gets cracking on making jets more than an oddity.” Rose stood, and reached down for Lucy. Peter made sure Rose had a hold of her before rolling over and pushing himself up to stand.
“He keeps sayin’ he will…”
“Mmmhm.” Rose walked over to her mum and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Y’ready to see Gran?” she asked Lucy, bouncing her on her hip.
“Don’t know that I’ll ever get used to that,” Jackie observed, reaching forward for Lucy. “Hello, pretty girl!”
Lucy gazed over to her Gran, not quite sure what to make of the woman in front of her.
“You’d think she’d never seen me before,” Jackie observed, taking Lucy from Rose.
“She’ll remember you, soon enough.”
“I hope so-not sure I’ll be able to take a day of her yelling for her mum.”
“She’ll not yell for her mum, Mum.” Rose curved her lips into an impish smile. “She might yell for her da. In which case you’ll have to read Burns to her.”
“How will I tell the difference?”
“Trial and error,” Peter offered.
“You two,” Jackie replied, exasperatedly amused. “I’ll plan to have supper laid out by six-that’s enough time to eat and have her home for her bedtime routine, yeah?”
“Yeah, Mum.” Rose followed her mum out into the hall, and reached forward to gently tease her fingertips down Lucy’s arm when Jackie stopped.
“Call us if you need anything,” Peter offered, bending down to pick up the baby bag and several of the toys. Rose was helping her mum to pull on Lucy’s tiny winter jacket-not strictly necessary given the relative warmth of the spring, but still something Rose wanted her daughter to wear.
“Honestly, you two. I’ve raised a few children before, you know. And the last thing I’m goin’ t’do today is ring either of you. I’ll see you at six, and that’s the next time you’ll hear from me.”
Peter carried the items out to where the car was waiting, Jackie’s usual driver giving them a wave from where he sat behind the wheel. Lucy was secured in the carseat-an odd thing to see in the back of a limousine; Jackie placed kisses on Rose and Peter’s cheeks; and then they were alone.
“Well, then.” Rose turned to Peter, suddenly feeling the chill of late spring.
“Indeed. Care to go inside, Mrs. Carlisle?” He pulled her to his side, rubbing her arm.
“Yeah.” She smiled up at Peter, and joined him as he turned and walked to the front door.
~ - ~
He’d not meant to, but at some point after Lucy left, Peter had fallen asleep. Rose had wanted to take care of the morning’s dishes-he’d not done them, not with Lucy fussing, and then needing a change-and he’d thought he would just sneak upstairs for a shower and quick kip. He’d not even made it to the shower, the lure of the bed simply too much to resist.
“Peter.” The sound of Rose’s voice was accompanied by the sensation of her fingers gently brushing across his cheek, pulling him from his sleep.
“Mmmm?” It felt delicious lying there in bed, surrounded by relaxing warmth, Rose next to him, whispering to him…
“It’s almost noon, love.”
His eyes flew open. “Noon?” he managed, his voice hoarse.
“Noon.” Rose smiled at him. “Thought you might want to be up for lunch.”
“’s that all?” he asked, focusing on her.
“Well, no.” Rose’s smile turned seductive. “But that’s for later.”
He pouted. “Later?”
“Later.” She moved to stand; he held onto her hand, gently tugging her down to him.
“Why not now?” He’d been dreaming of her-of making love to her-and his body was still singing from it.
Rose looked at him; then her hand drifted down, sliding over the fabric of the duvet, coming to rest right over his erection. “And what were you dreaming of, Mister Carlisle?” she asked, pressing down, causing his eyes to flutter shut.
“You. Us. Having sex.”
“Oh?” She moved her hand in a circle, keeping the pressure against his groin.
“Yes,” he hissed, arching.
She said nothing, simply moved so she could slide her hand under the duvet; could push the fabric back and slip her hand under his pants. He groaned at her touch, his hand drifting to her hair.
She deftly freed him, her hand wrapping around his erection; and then her fist slowly slid upwards, the friction exquisite. He flexed his hand in her hair, pulling her towards him for a kiss.
“You didn’t imagine me doing this?” she whispered against his lips, her hand slowly sliding down his penis, then dragging upwards again.
“No,” he ground out, his hips lifting off the bed as her thumb played with the head of his erection. She stroked downwards again, then twisted her wrist on the upstroke. “Yes, god…”
He was dimly aware of Rose moving, of her taking him in her mouth just before he came with a shout. She continued to stroke him as his orgasm waned, her tongue sliding along his erection as the warmth of her mouth surrounded him.
“Rose,” he finally said, utterly spent. He slipped his fingers from her hair, watched her raise her head; and he pulled her to him for a slow, lingering kiss.
“Not what I had in mind when I heard we’d have the day to ourselves,” he finally murmured as they broke their kiss.
“Not what I had in mind, either. But, well…not like I was gonna leave you to suffer alone, yeah?” She smiled at him, her fingers drifting across his cheek. “’sides, we have a few hours left, yet.”
“Mmmm.” He sighed, felt sleep slowly drift over him again.
“I’ll let you sleep,” she whispered, pulling away.
“Wake me in a half hour…” he mumbled as sleep reclaimed him.
He wasn’t sure if it had been a half-hour or longer when Rose re-woke him. He did know that he could smell food, and that she was not on the bed.
“Time t’ wake up, Peter,” Rose said, her voice full of laughter.
He forced himself to open his eyes, to wake up properly. Rose had managed to arrange a day for just the two of them, and he was rather stupidly sleeping it away.
“’m ‘wake,” he mumbled, blearily pushing himself up on his elbows.
Rose gave him a knowing smile, and reached over to the nightstand. “I’m not sure ‘bout that. But here’s a bit of lunch for you.”
He sat upright, accepting the plate Rose handed over. It held a small sandwich, with the crusts cut off, and he looked up in confusion to find Rose laughing.
“’s how Matthew takes his sandwiches, when he’s tired. Thought you might be the same.” She danced away when he lunged for her, giggling, and admonished, “Eat that. Take a shower. Then we’ll talk about more adult activities, yeah?” Her laughter faded, replaced by the smile she used only with him.
He watched Rose slowly walk out of their room and he hastily wolfed down the sandwich, then chased it with the glass of water she’d set on the nightstand. He set the dishes back on the stand with a clatter, and hurried over to the en-suite, eager to shower and see what Rose had in mind.
What she had in mind, apparently, involved the shower: He’d managed to wash his hair, was rinsing the suds out, when he felt a swirl of cool air within the space. And then Rose was in there with him, her hands massaging his hair as he stood under the spray.
He stepped forward, wiped his hand across his eyes to clear them of water, and pinned her with his gaze. “Are ye trying to seduce me in our shower?”
Rose tilted her head, smiling. “Maybe.” Wisps of her hair were curling in the steam; water was beginning to collect on her skin, running in teasing if short rivulets across her curves.
“Our first time making love in months, and you want to do it in the shower?” he asked, voice low, taking another step towards her.
“I didn’t say that, did I?” She turned, reaching behind her for the soap, and began to lather it. “C’mere.”
He obligingly stepped to her, watching as she began to slide her hands across his skin. His eyes followed the path of her hands as she washed him, her tongue peeping out from the corner of her mouth as she concentrated. Her eyes flickered to his when she was done; and then she gently pushed him backwards, into the spray of water, her fingers slipping across his skin as she made sure he was clean.
“There we are, all clean,” she said when she was done, leaning forward so she could reach around him to turn off the water. He waited until she’d successfully turned the taps, and then he reached for her, pulling her to him, kissing her as he backed her against the wall of the stall.
“I love you,” he said fiercely after breaking the kiss, stepping back and dragging his eyes up her body. Off her surprised expression, he elaborated, “I love how you look.” He reached a hand out, slowly drifting it down her side. “I love what being a mum has done to you.”
Rose blushed, stammering, “Put on a bit of weight, an-”
“You’re gorgeous, Rose. I love it-love how beautiful you are. I love that there are new curves-” he brushed his knuckles against the side of her breast, eliciting a soft sigh, and then he slid his hand to her hip. “And I want you, more than I ever thought possible.”
Rose gazed at him, her eyes large and dark, her cheeks pink. He leaned in, suddenly desperate to taste her; his mouth found hers in the sensuous open-mouthed kiss that always left him weak in the knees. “I,” he whispered around their kiss, “ache for you.” His hands cradled her jaw as he gentled the kiss, and her hands slid around his waist, coming to rest at the small of his back. His erection pressed into her stomach, providing some small measure of relief, but he was almost desperate to be buried in her.
Not in the shower, though. Not against the cold hard wall, not their first time after Lucy. He wanted to feel Rose under him, his body pressing against her soft curves, his wife-the mother of his child-looking up at him as she came around him.
He tore himself away from the kiss, his hands sliding from Rose’s face as he took a step back. He physically ached at the loss of contact, and he moved with alacrity to open the shower door and reach for the towel. He started to dry off, only to be stopped by Rose, who took the towel from his hand.
“Let me,” she whispered, her eyes dark as she gazed at him.
“I…Rose…I…” He was so close to orgasm; to have her touch him, right at that moment, would surely make him come. He eyes closed as he tried to bring himself under control, taking a deep breath.
He reopened them to find her watching him calmly. It helped him, somehow, to relax, and he was able to watch with some small degree of equanimity as she dried herself off. She took care to keep far enough away from him that she’d not accidentally touch him, and when she was done she handed the towel over.
She stood near to him as he made a cursory effort to get the water off his skin, her eyes following his hands as they roved across his body. When he was done, she reached forward, taking the towel from him, and tossed it aside.
“I have missed you. So much,” she whispered, closing the distance between them, her body pressing against his as she leaned up to kiss him.
He let out a whimper at the sensation, her warmth almost burning after the cool of air against his damp skin. Her hands slipped over his shoulders, up into his hair, and she pulled him down as she deepened the kiss.
He walked her to the bedroom, bumping into all sorts of things as he tried to navigate them while still giving her a thorough kissing. And then, mercifully, they were at the bed, the welcoming softness of the mattress inviting them both in.
He didn’t break the kiss as he lowered her to the bed, as they moved further onto the mattress. Her hands never left his hair, Rose’s kiss growing almost desperate as he covered her body with his.
He pulled back, gasping, kneeling between her legs; she blinked her eyes open, gazing up at him dazedly.
“Condom,” he muttered, reaching over to the bedside table, hoping against hope that what they had in there would still be good. He was pleasantly surprised to find Rose had been to the chemists at some point recently, and he was unable to keep from grinning foolishly as he pulled the small box out of the drawer.
“Someone was expecting to be rather naughty,” he teased, leaning back on his haunches as he opened the box.
“If not for the exhaustion and the general ache, I’d have been naughtier far sooner than this,” Rose said, pushing herself upright, reaching forward to take him in her hand while he wrestled with the line of foil packets.
He paused, reaching down, moving her hand away then waggling his finger at her in admonishment. “Naughty, naughty Rose. None of that if ye want a proper shag.”
She gazed up at him, coquettish, and he tossed the box as well as the unneeded condoms onto the floor once he finally separated one of the foil packets from its mates. She continued to watch him as he tore it open, and then as he rolled it on.
And then she turned, reaching over to the drawer, pulling out a small tube. She glanced up at him as she unscrewed it, and said simply, “Think this might help, this time.”
She squeezed some of the clear gel into her hand, recapped the tube and tossed it aside; and then she leaned forward, her hand sliding over his erection, the gel cold at first and then slowly warming up as she made sure to coat the condom with it.
Peter felt his breath hitch as he then watched Rose’s hand shift from him to her, sliding down between her legs, sharing out the moisture. She watched him the entire time, her eyes dark, her lips red and full. Her breasts-fuller than they had been before she became pregnant-were tantalizingly in reach, and he leaned forward to drift his tongue across the skin.
“Peter,” Rose hissed, her hand moving from between her legs. “I want you,” she added, almost whimpering, as he moved a hand to rest gently against her ribs.
“You’re sure you’re ok?” he asked, not wanting to stop but terrified of hurting her.
“God yes,” she bit out, her hips arching off the bed as the backs of his fingers skimmed the underside of her breast.
He pulled back, reaching down and guiding himself to her. She watched him as he gently pushed forward, his tip pressing into her slowly at first, then his length sheathing within her far more quickly than he was used to due to the lubricant.
Rose hissed, arching; he paused, not sure if the noise was pleasure or pain.
“Do it again,” she said, opening her eyes, holding his gaze.
“Like this?” He withdrew, then pressed into her in a steady motion.
“Just like that. God, yes.” He repeated the action, and Rose murmured, “Missed this. So much.” Rose planted her feet on the mattress, and arched up into him, meeting his thrust. “Yes,” she hissed.
He leaned forward, kissing her, setting a steady rhythm, harder than she’d liked before; she thrust up to meet him each time, their skin slapping wetly together as they made love. Rose stroked her tongue against the roof of his mouth, just flickering teases, meant to drive him mad; it had the result of encouraging him to speed up, to drive harder into her, to focus even more on bringing them both to orgasm, together.
Rose broke the kiss after many moments, panting, pulling him down to dance her tongue around the shell of his ear. “Make me come, Peter. Make me scream your name.” The words were panted, her breath hot against his ear; they had the effect of unleashing his own orgasm, leading him to bark out her name as he arched, pushing into her, pulsing into the condom.
Rose reached between them, her fingers wiggling as she sought to find her own release; and then he felt her clench around him, causing him to groan as the last of his orgasm unfurled.
He collapsed with a gasp as he felt Rose’s orgasm wane, almost shaking from the exertion; Rose, used to having his body weight on her after they’d made love, gave a contented sound as he did it, her fingers immediately moving to his hair, stroking through it as they both caught their breath.
“Missed you,” she whispered once they had both stopped panting, placing a soft kiss against the corner of his jaw.
He held her to him as he rolled them, slipping out of her as he settled on his back. She looked down at him, her cheeks bright pink, her hair mussed, her eyes dark; and he drifted his knuckles across her skin. “I’ve missed you, too. My gorgeous wife.” He leaned up, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Mother of my child.”
She let out a yawn, looking mortified when it had passed; Peter, however, laughed, his hands moving to rest on her back.
“’m sorry!” Rose squeaked, burying her face against his shoulder. “And after you’d said such lovely things, too.”
He kissed her hair, his hands rubbing her back. “I would imagine you’re a bit knackered, Rose.”
She nodded, letting out a soft sigh. He could feel her relaxing already, knew she’d be asleep in minutes, if not moments. “Let me get cleaned up, and we can have a lazy afternoon nap together. ‘s that sound good?” He patted her back, raised a shoulder, and was rewarded with Rose sleepily sliding off of him and onto her side of the bed.
By the time he returned to the bedroom, Rose was sound asleep, curled on her side under the deep red duvet. He cracked open a window then moved to join her, brushing a kiss across her cheek before wrapping an arm around her and slowly drifting to sleep.
~ fin ~
End Notes: And, with that, I’m headed out on vacation for two weeks. Part of vacation, for me, will actually be taking a proper break from posting and writing-but, while I’m gone, I’ve asked several authors to step in and share out a few Peter/Rose stories of their own. chicklet73, wildwinterwitch, caraskye, and xebgoc will each be covering one of my usual posting days. Hopefully, they’ll share out their stories at the_rspcpc as well as at their personal journals; and I’ll try my best to get links up to their stories from here in a timely manner. *hugs* Thanks, you guys, for covering!! I can’t *wait* to read your stories!