(no subject)
He gets to his feet and wipes at his chin, then reaches out for her.
“That hand of yours still gives me the creeps,” she smirks.
“Oi! This is the original model, remember?” he protests, persistently wiggling his fingers.
“Doctor,” she laughs, “I’m all wet.”
“Already?” he asks, eyebrows shooting up.
And, well. How could she refuse an invitation like that?
She takes his hand and lets him haul her up, only to slip thanks to the combined force of his enthusiasm and the still-full bath. But before she can topple to the ground, strong arms grip her around her shoulders and under her knees, and she’d make a witty comment except the Doctor’s already got her lips otherwise occupied.
He carries her to the bedroom and drops her gently on the comforter, and she’s too distracted by the sight of his deft hands untying his tie and unbuttoning his buttons to remember to complain about him ruining her sheets. She helps him undress, he climbs in after her, and in moments she’s utterly lost to sensation and rhythm and him.
She doesn’t know why she’s surprised when she starts babbling once more.
“I missed you so much I couldn’t I never please Doctor oh god I love you love you love you love you…”
And it’s not like she’d tarted around a lot, before she met him, but she’d never quite bought into the idea of making love-that sex, while very fun indeed, was anything particularly more. But this… this feels different. Feels like something precious and something sacred; like first rain after years of drought. She finally, finally has him in a place where he’s safe: where she knows she can’t lose him; where he’s solid and tangible and overwhelming all of her senses.
(She thinks she wished it, once: her Doctor, protected.)
Their entangled limbs fit like puzzle pieces, and for the first time since she arrived, Pete’s World feels like home.
“That hand of yours still gives me the creeps,” she smirks.
“Oi! This is the original model, remember?” he protests, persistently wiggling his fingers.
“Doctor,” she laughs, “I’m all wet.”
“Already?” he asks, eyebrows shooting up.
And, well. How could she refuse an invitation like that?
She takes his hand and lets him haul her up, only to slip thanks to the combined force of his enthusiasm and the still-full bath. But before she can topple to the ground, strong arms grip her around her shoulders and under her knees, and she’d make a witty comment except the Doctor’s already got her lips otherwise occupied.
He carries her to the bedroom and drops her gently on the comforter, and she’s too distracted by the sight of his deft hands untying his tie and unbuttoning his buttons to remember to complain about him ruining her sheets. She helps him undress, he climbs in after her, and in moments she’s utterly lost to sensation and rhythm and him.
She doesn’t know why she’s surprised when she starts babbling once more.
“I missed you so much I couldn’t I never please Doctor oh god I love you love you love you love you…”
And it’s not like she’d tarted around a lot, before she met him, but she’d never quite bought into the idea of making love-that sex, while very fun indeed, was anything particularly more. But this… this feels different. Feels like something precious and something sacred; like first rain after years of drought. She finally, finally has him in a place where he’s safe: where she knows she can’t lose him; where he’s solid and tangible and overwhelming all of her senses.
(She thinks she wished it, once: her Doctor, protected.)
Their entangled limbs fit like puzzle pieces, and for the first time since she arrived, Pete’s World feels like home.