Needful Things
More Ten II/Rose in The Journey After series. This immediately follows The Private Universe. No relation to the Stephen King novel of the same title. More adult content.
Thanks to nonelvis and platypus for beta work on this and to several others for putting up with my questions about eye exams.
...
"I need glasses," the Doctor said, slurping lo mein off his chopsticks.
It was the early afternoon of their first full day in Rose's flat, after a morning spent sleeping late and making love, and they had dragged themselves upstairs to eat Chinese leftovers.
Rose spooned out her selections onto a plate. "You need a lot of things," she said. "We can go shopping."
Putting down the container of lo mein, he peered over her shoulder and aimed his pair of chopsticks at a piece of pepper beef covered with cold, congealed sauce. She steered around him to put her plate in the microwave.
When the microwave chimed, she removed her steaming plate and took it to the table. Predictably, he continued standing to eat out of the containers. She smiled. At least he was using chopsticks.
"What else do I need?" he asked around a mouthful.
She considered. Jackie's intervention with the tailor meant that he had an assortment of shirts, trousers, and underpants and would soon have a few matched suits. The blue suit he'd been wearing had probably been returned to her mum's by now, cleaned and pressed. Some of his clothes were in the rucksack he'd dumped on her bedroom floor and some would need to be sent over from her mum's along with his suit. "Toiletries," she said. "A mobile phone, but I can have someone order you one of those at work."
The Doctor harrumphed. "I'd like to pick out my own."
"Okay," she said. "More trainers."
"What's wrong with mine?" he protested. Clearly his exposure to Donna hadn't left him with a love of shoe shopping.
"You need more than one pair." And not all red, she added mentally, even if they would all be Chuck Taylors.
He sniffed and bit the end off an egg roll. She rather liked the way he was dressed now, she considered. He wore one of the dozen or so football t-shirts that Jackie had bought for him in Bergen over a pair of plain boxers. She was still unused to seeing him this unclothed, even if they had spent most of the last sixteen or so hours mostly naked together. She had slipped on the blue shirt he'd worn yesterday before going to the loo this morning, and it had rendered him sufficiently speechless. She'd kept it on later, at his urging, when she'd been on top, and it still felt wonderfully intimate to wear his clothing.
"I need a toothbrush," he added, interrupting Rose's reverie.
"I'll make a list." She retrieved her mobile from the other side of the table and began adding items to her to-do list application, and then stopped short to look up at him. "Wait a minute. How have you been cleaning your teeth?" He had been cleaning them. She had tasted toothpaste on him.
"Ah. Well." He shuffled his feet.
"You've been using mine, haven't you?"
"You've had your tongue in my mouth," he said, his voice rising with defensiveness. "You've been quite exposed to any … cooties … that I might have."
She added a second toothbrush to the shopping list.
…
The Doctor tried on a succession of inappropriate frames from the wall of samples, pretending to be serious but all the time watching Rose's reactions. By the time he reached for an enormous pair of women's red butterfly frames, she was reduced to helpless, belly-clutching laughter and remembering exactly how they used to get into so much trouble.
The only other customer in the store ducked out, and the optician came over to them. She was forty-something, petite, chic, and thoroughly disapproving.
"Can I help you?" she asked solicitously.
The Doctor, leaving the empty frames in place, gave the optician a broad grin. "I've misplaced my glasses and need a new pair. Well, 'misplaced' isn't the right word. They're in the pocket of this suit I don't have anymore. It's a long story."
"Is there a particular style you're considering?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowed behind her own very slender frames.
"We'll just look around," Rose said.
The woman sniffed. "Our men's frames are on this side," she indicated with a wave of her hand. "Unless you're not really interested in making a purchase."
Rose bristled, but the Doctor followed the wave to the men's side and began contemplating his choices. He would have looked quite serious if not for the absurd glasses he was wearing. The optician was so annoyed that Rose decided that it would be far more entertaining to torture her than to give in and go somewhere else.
"He needs two pair," she said.
"I do not," he immediately retorted, snatching off the Wilma Flintstone frames.
"You'll lose one, or break it. You need a spare." She searched in her sling bag and found her wallet. "Here," she said, handing the optician one of her credit cards. "We're quite serious, thank you very much, and I assume you work on commission? We'll tell you when we've found what we need."
The woman took the card, simpering, and retreated behind the counter.
"Well done, you," the Doctor said admiringly. He picked up a pair of dark tortoiseshell frames with square corners and rounded tops and bottoms. When he put them on, she swallowed against the lump in her throat. Here they were: his brainy specs, exactly as she remembered them. He beamed at her, as he had so many times before, and she immediately rushed forward to hug him tightly.
"They're perfect," she said, and reached up to adjust the frames so they would sit straight on his nose. Giving in to a long-familiar impulse, she leaned up and claimed his lips, feeling the bump of the frames for a moment as they kissed.
"I'll get three if you want," he said when she drew away.
She chuckled. "That might not be such a bad idea."
The optician, conspicuously not looking at them, was shuffling items behind the counter when Rose presented the chosen pair to her. "Three of these, please."
"Do you need an eye exam or do you have a prescription?" she asked the Doctor.
The Doctor proceeded to rattle off a string of numbers that made both women look askance at him.
"I meant your prescription - from the doctor," the optician said, looking slightly alarmed.
"Oh, I am -"
Rose interrupted by stepping on the Doctor's foot. He shut his mouth and assumed a charming smile as she explained. "We just need the frames, thanks. We've got to custom-order the lenses somewhere else."
The optician squinted suspiciously, but Rose kept smiling, and eventually they left with a bag containing three pairs of designer frames.
"We're not getting lenses today?" the Doctor asked, clearly disappointed.
"Torchwood can handle it," she said. "I didn't think it was a good idea to try and fill out all the paperwork for an eye exam when you don't have any ID."
He shuffled his feet as they walked, his view downcast. "The psychic paper would have come in handy."
She took his hand and squeezed.
….
Their visit to Tesco was far less dramatic, although in predictable fashion they did leave staring strangers in their laughing wake. The Doctor sniffed every bottle of shampoo before making a final selection.
"Anti-perspirant," she said, reading from the list, and giggled. Hers was baby powder scented with a smattering of body glitter, and she made a mental note to check his armpits when they got home. He repeated the entire scent-selection process and winced visibly at most of his options before choosing an unscented version.
On the oral hygiene aisle, Rose steered a protesting Doctor away from the electric toothbrush choices. "You'd upgrade them!" she said. "Mobiles are one thing, but I'm terrified what you'd do to a toothbrush."
He picked out the most colourfully bristled, complicated-looking toothbrush that didn't charge or take batteries and put it in her basket. She tossed in a simpler model for herself.
When she added men's odour-absorbing shoe inserts, he gave her a wounded look. "It's so undignified," he sighed. "Look at this. It's all about controlling odour. My mouth, my underarms, my feet. I've got to spray myself down every day and cover myself with stuff to keep me from stinking."
"I think you smell nice."
"That's clearly why we're buying all of this," he said forlornly, gesturing at the basket. "Come on. I've got to get a razor."
Contemplating the array of men's grooming products, she tried to make a joke. "At least you don't need an ear-hair trimmer."
"Yet," he said, refusing to be cheered.
…
A visit to a women's lingerie shop cheered him enormously.
…
"Sir! Excuse me! Sir!" the mobile phone representative fairly shouted. "You can't take that apart."
The Doctor handed the mobile in question to him, still mostly in two pieces. "Poor build quality," he said. "Do you have something else a little more durable?"
The man looked helplessly at the mobile in his hand and turned it over, trying to find how and if it could be fitted back together. "If this is damaged," he began, "I'm going to have to ask you to pay for it."
Rose handed over her credit card.
…
"Exactly like these," the Doctor said, pointing to his trainers.
"A couple of different colours," Rose reminded him.
"Over there." The clerk pointed, much less interested in the two of them than in the football highlights playing on the telly.
"What size?" Rose asked, studying the labels on the wall of boxes.
"Twelve," he said. "Oooh, look!" He produced a pair of Chucks covered with an enormous Union Jack. Rose grinned and sat down on the bench, watching him open box after box like a little boy at Christmas.
In the end, they bought five new pairs. She vetoed the Pink Floyd pair with the prism and rainbow as well as the blue-and-yellow plaid, much to the Doctor's disappointment, and they left with black, white, brown, blue, and Union Jack.
…
After making yet another trip to Rose's flat to drop off more bags brimming with purchases, they went back out for dinner at Jamie Oliver's Italian restaurant, which Rose had always wanted to try. They sat close together in the bar, fortunately fairly sparsely populated on a weekday night, and each sipped a Campari and soda and watched the people around them.
Once they were seated at a table, the Doctor peered carefully at the menu, holding it out at arm's length. Rose spent a distracted few moments watching him read, his face illuminated by the flickering candle. He looked back at her and smiled. "See anything you like?" he asked innocently.
"Tease."
"I was thinking that the 'world's best olives' sound appealing," he said with a cheeky grin. "It could be hyperbole, of course, but I'm willing to keep an open mind."
She talked him down from ordering as much food as they had last night, and they shared a bottle of Chianti while waiting for dinner. He drank slowly, swirling the wine around in his mouth before swallowing.
When the olives arrived, he fed her one and she licked the tip of his thumb before it withdrew, provoking a raised eyebrow and a shift in his seat. She felt an answering thrill. Flirting with the Doctor and having him flirt back wasn't new, after all. It was the knowledge that the night would end with him in her bed that was entirely different.
He was saying something. "I'll go slow."
"Will you?" she said dizzily.
"The wine goes straight to my head now, remember?" he said, with a wicked smile that indicated he knew what she thought he'd said. "I'll wait until dinner to have another glass."
She took a long drink from her glass of water with lemon and opened her mouth enough for him to see the ice cube balanced on the end of her curved tongue. He knocked the table enough to slosh his own water around. The waiter promptly appeared and blotted up the spill.
"Now who's a tease?" asked the Doctor when the waiter retreated.
"It's only teasing if I don't intend to follow through," Rose said, sliding her foot to touch his ankle under the table.
Both of his eyebrows shot up and his mouth hung open for a moment before he said, weakly, "Perhaps we could skip dinner?"
Their entrees arrived at the table at that moment, and Rose postponed further foreplay to admire the gorgeous presentation of her pasta, covered with black truffle and Parmesan shavings in a light butter sauce. The Doctor had ordered penne arrabiata and tucked into it with abandon, as if he hadn't eaten all day, but after a few bites his forehead broke out into a fine sweat.
"Little hot?" she asked, taking a bite of her own pasta.
He exposed his teeth in more of a grimace than a smile. "I love spicy food," he asserted, and continued eating. He stopped, drank both his water and then his wine, and gave her a little sigh. "I think I don't like spicy food anymore," he said sadly.
She scooted her plate over toward him and he took a few forkfuls of her pasta, looking a little morose. "It's okay," she told him. "You don't have to like all the same things."
"Mmm," he mumbled noncommittally, and drank another glass of wine.
When the waiter returned, Rose ordered sorbet, hoping that the cold would be soothing to the Doctor's stinging tongue and the sweet would be soothing to his soul. He did brighten when the little trio of dishes arrived, and they jousted briefly with spoons for the last bite, which she let him have in the end.
To her annoyance, the waiter set the bill on the Doctor's side of the table. He couldn't know that the Doctor rarely paid for a meal - or anything else for that matter - but he could have been a little less openly sexist in his casual assessment. She left it prominently in front of her, and the waiter thanked her by name when he returned for her signature.
The Doctor had finished the bottle while she had been paying, and when they stood up, he wobbled slightly and took her arm. Once they were out of the restaurant, he half-skipped, towing her along with him and provoking a fit of giggles.
"Are you drunk?" she asked, delighted.
"No! Of course not. I am slightly inebriated," he corrected. "That's much more sophisticated. Now, if I remember right, you were telling me how much of a tease you weren't."
They reached her flat in record time. He managed to close the door behind them before she launched herself at him. His kisses were wet and slightly spicy, and she had enough experience by now to tell that they were a bit more enthusiastically sloppy than usual.
She turned her head and captured his earlobe, running her tongue along the edge and sucking it lightly. He let out an uneven breath and clutched at her hips. She slid a hand down between their bodies and cupped him through his trousers, feeling the shape and the eagerness of him. "Do you remember when I first touched you?" she whispered into his ear, a little bold with the alcohol buzzing in her system and his obvious desire. "You stopped me. You said … remember? I could do anything I wanted, just not all at once?"
"I remember," he said, his voice low and hoarse. "What do you want?"
"I want," she replied, still holding him gently, her fingers barely moving, "to unwrap you properly."
"Anything you want," he reiterated.
She led him away from the door by the tie and he followed her down the stairs to her bedroom. "Stay there," she advised before stripping back the duvet and placing a condom prominently on the pillow, a promise of what was to come. He stood stock-still in the doorway, watching her with hooded eyes.
She went to her knees before him and unlaced his trainers with exquisite care. She tugged on the flap to loosen them and then touched his calf, prompting him to raise his foot so she could slide his shoe and sock off. They repeated the motions on the other side and Rose encircled his ankles with her hands. She leaned in and kissed his erection through his trousers, provoking a quick gasp, before sliding with maximum contact back up his body and kissing his mouth.
His arms went around her, hands sliding to her bum, but she gently pressed them back to his sides. "Later," she said, and moved to unknot his tie. She dropped light kisses on his neck as she worked slowly, unbuttoning his dress shirt with as much care as she had used on his trainers. She tugged at the tie and felt it slip away from his neck. She dropped it on the floor and continued unbuttoning him, sliding her hand along the exposed vest underneath as she went.
When she reached his waist, she pulled the shirt and vest out from his trousers and took the opportunity to fondle him again. He moaned in earnest this time and she smiled, taking his lower lip between her teeth and running her tongue along it. His hands stayed at his side, but he was clenching and unclenching them into fists.
She unfastened the buttons at his wrists as well and then parted the shirt, letting her hands slide underneath to push it down his shoulders and then onto the floor. He was breathing quickly, making an effort to remain still for her, and she rewarded him with another long, intimate kiss.
"Rose," he said when they broke apart, but didn't continue speaking or move a muscle.
"Soon," she assured him. She wanted him badly, but she also wanted to indulge in this fantasy.
Next came his vest, over his head with his raised arms, and she admired his bare chest and stomach before dropping her hand to the fastening of his trousers. She moved slowly, drawing out the contact, lowering his zip and seeing the bulge of his erection inside his boxers. She tugged the trousers off his hips and they dropped to the floor with the rest of his clothing before she slid a hand underneath his elastic waistband and gripped his bare cock.
"Rose," he said again, more urgently.
She released him and pulled his boxers down so that he could step out of them, now naked before her. She stepped away, putting a hand on his chest before he could follow her. "Watch," she said.
She removed her own clothes with the same care she had used for him, first her shoes, then her jumper. He swallowed visibly at her bra, a new one that she'd bought today with his approval.
She smiled. "I've got the matching set on." She unfastened her jeans and stepped out of them to show him.
His eyes traced a path down her body. "It's a pity you won't have them on long, then."
"Isn't it?" She reached behind her to unclasp the bra and shrugged it off her shoulders, then carefully removed her knickers so that she was as naked as he. "Here we are," she said, reaching for the condom, laid out on the pillow like a mint. She was generous with her fingers as she put it into place, and he was panting when she finished. Once again, she stopped him with a palm to prevent him from coming forward. "One more thing," she said, and laid herself out on the bed before him, legs slightly spread and head propped up on the pillow. "Now, come here."
He fairly leapt to climb on top of her and there were only a few spicy, sloppy kisses before he shifted his hips and one hand and filled her. "Yes," he moaned, and then again, "yes, yes, yes," in rhythm with his motion inside her. He put his arms underneath her shoulders to keep her from ramming backward onto the headboard and began to thrust even harder. With both his hands occupied, Rose reached between her legs to touch herself.
"Oh, oh," the Doctor gasped. "Is that - is that good?"
"Yes," she groaned back at him. Her fingers sped up to match his pace and she felt how tantalisingly close her orgasm was. Her hand was jarred by his belly when he pushed into her, but that regular rhythm was fantastic, spurring her on, and she soon came with a low cry that she muffled into his shoulder. She moved her hand to take hold of his bum as he finished. He said her name in a wonderfully helpless way, and she felt the stutter in his muscles when he released into her.
They untangled themselves afterward, and the Doctor flopped onto his side like a landed fish. She snuggled into him, kissing his shoulder and taking what she hoped was a discreet sniff. As she had suspected, he smelled faintly of baby powder.
She broke the bad news gently. "We need to go back to Tesco tomorrow," she told him.
"Whatever for?"
"More condoms."
Next: Listen
Thanks to nonelvis and platypus for beta work on this and to several others for putting up with my questions about eye exams.
...
"I need glasses," the Doctor said, slurping lo mein off his chopsticks.
It was the early afternoon of their first full day in Rose's flat, after a morning spent sleeping late and making love, and they had dragged themselves upstairs to eat Chinese leftovers.
Rose spooned out her selections onto a plate. "You need a lot of things," she said. "We can go shopping."
Putting down the container of lo mein, he peered over her shoulder and aimed his pair of chopsticks at a piece of pepper beef covered with cold, congealed sauce. She steered around him to put her plate in the microwave.
When the microwave chimed, she removed her steaming plate and took it to the table. Predictably, he continued standing to eat out of the containers. She smiled. At least he was using chopsticks.
"What else do I need?" he asked around a mouthful.
She considered. Jackie's intervention with the tailor meant that he had an assortment of shirts, trousers, and underpants and would soon have a few matched suits. The blue suit he'd been wearing had probably been returned to her mum's by now, cleaned and pressed. Some of his clothes were in the rucksack he'd dumped on her bedroom floor and some would need to be sent over from her mum's along with his suit. "Toiletries," she said. "A mobile phone, but I can have someone order you one of those at work."
The Doctor harrumphed. "I'd like to pick out my own."
"Okay," she said. "More trainers."
"What's wrong with mine?" he protested. Clearly his exposure to Donna hadn't left him with a love of shoe shopping.
"You need more than one pair." And not all red, she added mentally, even if they would all be Chuck Taylors.
He sniffed and bit the end off an egg roll. She rather liked the way he was dressed now, she considered. He wore one of the dozen or so football t-shirts that Jackie had bought for him in Bergen over a pair of plain boxers. She was still unused to seeing him this unclothed, even if they had spent most of the last sixteen or so hours mostly naked together. She had slipped on the blue shirt he'd worn yesterday before going to the loo this morning, and it had rendered him sufficiently speechless. She'd kept it on later, at his urging, when she'd been on top, and it still felt wonderfully intimate to wear his clothing.
"I need a toothbrush," he added, interrupting Rose's reverie.
"I'll make a list." She retrieved her mobile from the other side of the table and began adding items to her to-do list application, and then stopped short to look up at him. "Wait a minute. How have you been cleaning your teeth?" He had been cleaning them. She had tasted toothpaste on him.
"Ah. Well." He shuffled his feet.
"You've been using mine, haven't you?"
"You've had your tongue in my mouth," he said, his voice rising with defensiveness. "You've been quite exposed to any … cooties … that I might have."
She added a second toothbrush to the shopping list.
…
The Doctor tried on a succession of inappropriate frames from the wall of samples, pretending to be serious but all the time watching Rose's reactions. By the time he reached for an enormous pair of women's red butterfly frames, she was reduced to helpless, belly-clutching laughter and remembering exactly how they used to get into so much trouble.
The only other customer in the store ducked out, and the optician came over to them. She was forty-something, petite, chic, and thoroughly disapproving.
"Can I help you?" she asked solicitously.
The Doctor, leaving the empty frames in place, gave the optician a broad grin. "I've misplaced my glasses and need a new pair. Well, 'misplaced' isn't the right word. They're in the pocket of this suit I don't have anymore. It's a long story."
"Is there a particular style you're considering?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowed behind her own very slender frames.
"We'll just look around," Rose said.
The woman sniffed. "Our men's frames are on this side," she indicated with a wave of her hand. "Unless you're not really interested in making a purchase."
Rose bristled, but the Doctor followed the wave to the men's side and began contemplating his choices. He would have looked quite serious if not for the absurd glasses he was wearing. The optician was so annoyed that Rose decided that it would be far more entertaining to torture her than to give in and go somewhere else.
"He needs two pair," she said.
"I do not," he immediately retorted, snatching off the Wilma Flintstone frames.
"You'll lose one, or break it. You need a spare." She searched in her sling bag and found her wallet. "Here," she said, handing the optician one of her credit cards. "We're quite serious, thank you very much, and I assume you work on commission? We'll tell you when we've found what we need."
The woman took the card, simpering, and retreated behind the counter.
"Well done, you," the Doctor said admiringly. He picked up a pair of dark tortoiseshell frames with square corners and rounded tops and bottoms. When he put them on, she swallowed against the lump in her throat. Here they were: his brainy specs, exactly as she remembered them. He beamed at her, as he had so many times before, and she immediately rushed forward to hug him tightly.
"They're perfect," she said, and reached up to adjust the frames so they would sit straight on his nose. Giving in to a long-familiar impulse, she leaned up and claimed his lips, feeling the bump of the frames for a moment as they kissed.
"I'll get three if you want," he said when she drew away.
She chuckled. "That might not be such a bad idea."
The optician, conspicuously not looking at them, was shuffling items behind the counter when Rose presented the chosen pair to her. "Three of these, please."
"Do you need an eye exam or do you have a prescription?" she asked the Doctor.
The Doctor proceeded to rattle off a string of numbers that made both women look askance at him.
"I meant your prescription - from the doctor," the optician said, looking slightly alarmed.
"Oh, I am -"
Rose interrupted by stepping on the Doctor's foot. He shut his mouth and assumed a charming smile as she explained. "We just need the frames, thanks. We've got to custom-order the lenses somewhere else."
The optician squinted suspiciously, but Rose kept smiling, and eventually they left with a bag containing three pairs of designer frames.
"We're not getting lenses today?" the Doctor asked, clearly disappointed.
"Torchwood can handle it," she said. "I didn't think it was a good idea to try and fill out all the paperwork for an eye exam when you don't have any ID."
He shuffled his feet as they walked, his view downcast. "The psychic paper would have come in handy."
She took his hand and squeezed.
….
Their visit to Tesco was far less dramatic, although in predictable fashion they did leave staring strangers in their laughing wake. The Doctor sniffed every bottle of shampoo before making a final selection.
"Anti-perspirant," she said, reading from the list, and giggled. Hers was baby powder scented with a smattering of body glitter, and she made a mental note to check his armpits when they got home. He repeated the entire scent-selection process and winced visibly at most of his options before choosing an unscented version.
On the oral hygiene aisle, Rose steered a protesting Doctor away from the electric toothbrush choices. "You'd upgrade them!" she said. "Mobiles are one thing, but I'm terrified what you'd do to a toothbrush."
He picked out the most colourfully bristled, complicated-looking toothbrush that didn't charge or take batteries and put it in her basket. She tossed in a simpler model for herself.
When she added men's odour-absorbing shoe inserts, he gave her a wounded look. "It's so undignified," he sighed. "Look at this. It's all about controlling odour. My mouth, my underarms, my feet. I've got to spray myself down every day and cover myself with stuff to keep me from stinking."
"I think you smell nice."
"That's clearly why we're buying all of this," he said forlornly, gesturing at the basket. "Come on. I've got to get a razor."
Contemplating the array of men's grooming products, she tried to make a joke. "At least you don't need an ear-hair trimmer."
"Yet," he said, refusing to be cheered.
…
A visit to a women's lingerie shop cheered him enormously.
…
"Sir! Excuse me! Sir!" the mobile phone representative fairly shouted. "You can't take that apart."
The Doctor handed the mobile in question to him, still mostly in two pieces. "Poor build quality," he said. "Do you have something else a little more durable?"
The man looked helplessly at the mobile in his hand and turned it over, trying to find how and if it could be fitted back together. "If this is damaged," he began, "I'm going to have to ask you to pay for it."
Rose handed over her credit card.
…
"Exactly like these," the Doctor said, pointing to his trainers.
"A couple of different colours," Rose reminded him.
"Over there." The clerk pointed, much less interested in the two of them than in the football highlights playing on the telly.
"What size?" Rose asked, studying the labels on the wall of boxes.
"Twelve," he said. "Oooh, look!" He produced a pair of Chucks covered with an enormous Union Jack. Rose grinned and sat down on the bench, watching him open box after box like a little boy at Christmas.
In the end, they bought five new pairs. She vetoed the Pink Floyd pair with the prism and rainbow as well as the blue-and-yellow plaid, much to the Doctor's disappointment, and they left with black, white, brown, blue, and Union Jack.
…
After making yet another trip to Rose's flat to drop off more bags brimming with purchases, they went back out for dinner at Jamie Oliver's Italian restaurant, which Rose had always wanted to try. They sat close together in the bar, fortunately fairly sparsely populated on a weekday night, and each sipped a Campari and soda and watched the people around them.
Once they were seated at a table, the Doctor peered carefully at the menu, holding it out at arm's length. Rose spent a distracted few moments watching him read, his face illuminated by the flickering candle. He looked back at her and smiled. "See anything you like?" he asked innocently.
"Tease."
"I was thinking that the 'world's best olives' sound appealing," he said with a cheeky grin. "It could be hyperbole, of course, but I'm willing to keep an open mind."
She talked him down from ordering as much food as they had last night, and they shared a bottle of Chianti while waiting for dinner. He drank slowly, swirling the wine around in his mouth before swallowing.
When the olives arrived, he fed her one and she licked the tip of his thumb before it withdrew, provoking a raised eyebrow and a shift in his seat. She felt an answering thrill. Flirting with the Doctor and having him flirt back wasn't new, after all. It was the knowledge that the night would end with him in her bed that was entirely different.
He was saying something. "I'll go slow."
"Will you?" she said dizzily.
"The wine goes straight to my head now, remember?" he said, with a wicked smile that indicated he knew what she thought he'd said. "I'll wait until dinner to have another glass."
She took a long drink from her glass of water with lemon and opened her mouth enough for him to see the ice cube balanced on the end of her curved tongue. He knocked the table enough to slosh his own water around. The waiter promptly appeared and blotted up the spill.
"Now who's a tease?" asked the Doctor when the waiter retreated.
"It's only teasing if I don't intend to follow through," Rose said, sliding her foot to touch his ankle under the table.
Both of his eyebrows shot up and his mouth hung open for a moment before he said, weakly, "Perhaps we could skip dinner?"
Their entrees arrived at the table at that moment, and Rose postponed further foreplay to admire the gorgeous presentation of her pasta, covered with black truffle and Parmesan shavings in a light butter sauce. The Doctor had ordered penne arrabiata and tucked into it with abandon, as if he hadn't eaten all day, but after a few bites his forehead broke out into a fine sweat.
"Little hot?" she asked, taking a bite of her own pasta.
He exposed his teeth in more of a grimace than a smile. "I love spicy food," he asserted, and continued eating. He stopped, drank both his water and then his wine, and gave her a little sigh. "I think I don't like spicy food anymore," he said sadly.
She scooted her plate over toward him and he took a few forkfuls of her pasta, looking a little morose. "It's okay," she told him. "You don't have to like all the same things."
"Mmm," he mumbled noncommittally, and drank another glass of wine.
When the waiter returned, Rose ordered sorbet, hoping that the cold would be soothing to the Doctor's stinging tongue and the sweet would be soothing to his soul. He did brighten when the little trio of dishes arrived, and they jousted briefly with spoons for the last bite, which she let him have in the end.
To her annoyance, the waiter set the bill on the Doctor's side of the table. He couldn't know that the Doctor rarely paid for a meal - or anything else for that matter - but he could have been a little less openly sexist in his casual assessment. She left it prominently in front of her, and the waiter thanked her by name when he returned for her signature.
The Doctor had finished the bottle while she had been paying, and when they stood up, he wobbled slightly and took her arm. Once they were out of the restaurant, he half-skipped, towing her along with him and provoking a fit of giggles.
"Are you drunk?" she asked, delighted.
"No! Of course not. I am slightly inebriated," he corrected. "That's much more sophisticated. Now, if I remember right, you were telling me how much of a tease you weren't."
They reached her flat in record time. He managed to close the door behind them before she launched herself at him. His kisses were wet and slightly spicy, and she had enough experience by now to tell that they were a bit more enthusiastically sloppy than usual.
She turned her head and captured his earlobe, running her tongue along the edge and sucking it lightly. He let out an uneven breath and clutched at her hips. She slid a hand down between their bodies and cupped him through his trousers, feeling the shape and the eagerness of him. "Do you remember when I first touched you?" she whispered into his ear, a little bold with the alcohol buzzing in her system and his obvious desire. "You stopped me. You said … remember? I could do anything I wanted, just not all at once?"
"I remember," he said, his voice low and hoarse. "What do you want?"
"I want," she replied, still holding him gently, her fingers barely moving, "to unwrap you properly."
"Anything you want," he reiterated.
She led him away from the door by the tie and he followed her down the stairs to her bedroom. "Stay there," she advised before stripping back the duvet and placing a condom prominently on the pillow, a promise of what was to come. He stood stock-still in the doorway, watching her with hooded eyes.
She went to her knees before him and unlaced his trainers with exquisite care. She tugged on the flap to loosen them and then touched his calf, prompting him to raise his foot so she could slide his shoe and sock off. They repeated the motions on the other side and Rose encircled his ankles with her hands. She leaned in and kissed his erection through his trousers, provoking a quick gasp, before sliding with maximum contact back up his body and kissing his mouth.
His arms went around her, hands sliding to her bum, but she gently pressed them back to his sides. "Later," she said, and moved to unknot his tie. She dropped light kisses on his neck as she worked slowly, unbuttoning his dress shirt with as much care as she had used on his trainers. She tugged at the tie and felt it slip away from his neck. She dropped it on the floor and continued unbuttoning him, sliding her hand along the exposed vest underneath as she went.
When she reached his waist, she pulled the shirt and vest out from his trousers and took the opportunity to fondle him again. He moaned in earnest this time and she smiled, taking his lower lip between her teeth and running her tongue along it. His hands stayed at his side, but he was clenching and unclenching them into fists.
She unfastened the buttons at his wrists as well and then parted the shirt, letting her hands slide underneath to push it down his shoulders and then onto the floor. He was breathing quickly, making an effort to remain still for her, and she rewarded him with another long, intimate kiss.
"Rose," he said when they broke apart, but didn't continue speaking or move a muscle.
"Soon," she assured him. She wanted him badly, but she also wanted to indulge in this fantasy.
Next came his vest, over his head with his raised arms, and she admired his bare chest and stomach before dropping her hand to the fastening of his trousers. She moved slowly, drawing out the contact, lowering his zip and seeing the bulge of his erection inside his boxers. She tugged the trousers off his hips and they dropped to the floor with the rest of his clothing before she slid a hand underneath his elastic waistband and gripped his bare cock.
"Rose," he said again, more urgently.
She released him and pulled his boxers down so that he could step out of them, now naked before her. She stepped away, putting a hand on his chest before he could follow her. "Watch," she said.
She removed her own clothes with the same care she had used for him, first her shoes, then her jumper. He swallowed visibly at her bra, a new one that she'd bought today with his approval.
She smiled. "I've got the matching set on." She unfastened her jeans and stepped out of them to show him.
His eyes traced a path down her body. "It's a pity you won't have them on long, then."
"Isn't it?" She reached behind her to unclasp the bra and shrugged it off her shoulders, then carefully removed her knickers so that she was as naked as he. "Here we are," she said, reaching for the condom, laid out on the pillow like a mint. She was generous with her fingers as she put it into place, and he was panting when she finished. Once again, she stopped him with a palm to prevent him from coming forward. "One more thing," she said, and laid herself out on the bed before him, legs slightly spread and head propped up on the pillow. "Now, come here."
He fairly leapt to climb on top of her and there were only a few spicy, sloppy kisses before he shifted his hips and one hand and filled her. "Yes," he moaned, and then again, "yes, yes, yes," in rhythm with his motion inside her. He put his arms underneath her shoulders to keep her from ramming backward onto the headboard and began to thrust even harder. With both his hands occupied, Rose reached between her legs to touch herself.
"Oh, oh," the Doctor gasped. "Is that - is that good?"
"Yes," she groaned back at him. Her fingers sped up to match his pace and she felt how tantalisingly close her orgasm was. Her hand was jarred by his belly when he pushed into her, but that regular rhythm was fantastic, spurring her on, and she soon came with a low cry that she muffled into his shoulder. She moved her hand to take hold of his bum as he finished. He said her name in a wonderfully helpless way, and she felt the stutter in his muscles when he released into her.
They untangled themselves afterward, and the Doctor flopped onto his side like a landed fish. She snuggled into him, kissing his shoulder and taking what she hoped was a discreet sniff. As she had suspected, he smelled faintly of baby powder.
She broke the bad news gently. "We need to go back to Tesco tomorrow," she told him.
"Whatever for?"
"More condoms."
Next: Listen