An Education (Nine!Smith/Rose, 9/?)
Title: An Education (9/?)
Author: ahedonia (Anne Hedonia)
Pairing: Nine!Smith/Rose
Rating: M and a half
Betas: seren_ccd looks over prose and tells me what's what / sollersuk polices my history and Britishness
Summary: I went looking for a Smith!Nine/Rose fic that took place at Farringham (not, apparently, "Farrington" - did anyone else notice I'd had the school's name wrong this whole time? Someone on Teaspoon finally mentioned it to me). I couldn't find one, so I started writing. It's pretty much as simple as that.
Previous chapters at my Teaspoon account.
Yes! I've finally got this stupid chapter done and out to you! I apologize for the delay, but I did myself a disservice with the cliffhanger in the last chapter, making such a big deal about the build-up. Between that and all the lovely "hurry up and post!" reviews I got so perfectionistic I could barely choke out a damn word (even though I'd pretty much had it all written in my head for weeks). Finally I told myself JUST WRITE IT! and got 'er done. Then once seren_ccd told me she approved it was good to go.
As a half-finished bonus, I've been working on a banner for this and doing some manip-ing. In case you'd like some revisionist images in your head as you go along here, I'm providing two of the manips I've finished that I hope to put into the banner somehow.
A bit of Nine!Smith, and a bit of Maid!Rose...
And now, after far too much ado already, the fic - as a peace offering, it's nearly twice as long as my usual chapters. I sincerely hope it sends at least someone to her bunk.
--------- Previously ------------
Once at the school building proper she sneaked up the back stairs, into the hall and arrived at John's door, panting faintly, gathering herself.
If this was the only opportunity she would ever have to be with the Doctor, she would take it with both hands and never look back. She could think of no worse fate than to let this chance go by and realize later it would never come again. The regret would certainly kill her.
She knocked softly, and when he opened his door to find her there he was in his shirtsleeves and suit trousers, tie gone and sleeves rolled messily up. He looked not in the least surprised to see her; his pale eyes were quiet and helpless and intensely thankful. He moved aside to let her enter, shut the door behind her and pulled her wordlessly into his arms.
------
They collided tightly and instantly, overwhelmed with the relief of kissing and touching, as if they'd been forced underwater for the last 24 hours and, with the contact and presence of the other, were finally allowed air. John pushed Rose's hat off to bury his fingers in her hair; Rose hurriedly shucked her gloves to stroke John's face and hold the back of his neck barehanded. Their hands were in constant motion, each testing the other's reality with every touch.
After several minutes he pulled back for breath, leaning his forehead against hers. "I just… can't believe you're actually here." His eyes rested half-closed as he let his senses take her in. "Somebody up there took pity on me."
"Somebody down here couldn't stop thinking about you," she murmured. "No pity necessary."
"I can't believe you came, what you're risking, for..." He pulled back a little and gestured in his own general direction. "I would never have asked you to do such a thing."
"I know," she said softly. "That's why I went ahead and did it myself."
He smiled in quiet amazement, his eyes growing drugged with her nearness. "And I'm far too selfish to give you back." He nuzzled her gently. "I'm so sorry I panicked yesterday. I shouldn't have-"
"Shh," she soothed, "you didn't do anything I didn't do as well. Besides..." She took a breath, seemingly to quell an onslaught of nerves. "...this is...scary," she concluded, eyes closed.
He nodded and stroked her hair. "Staying away was a choice that I suspect was doomed from the start," he said ruefully. "Once I'd finally given in...I went mad from wanting more, and from the idea that I'd had my chance and ruined everything."
"I felt exactly the same," she murmured, then blinked at him. "You're not kissing me."
John warmed with quiet pleasure. "Let me fix that."
He bent and kissed her gently; her arms tightened around his neck, pulling him down. He savoured the moment of contact and every moment after that. Each touch of her lips was a tonic against something unnameable that had always pained his soul.
Rose was soon whimpering softly and continuously and John's stomach flipped intensely each time; he was rocketed back to the reaction of his dream Rose. On impulse his fingers brushed her temples experimentally, without result. She gave him a puzzled look. He just smiled. Worth a try.
He was considering the allure of kissing her neck when he suddenly realized how absurdly bundled she still was. He stepped back and bowed slightly. "May I take your coat?" he grinned.
Rose turned pink, as if suddenly remembering. "I look silly."
He unwrapped her scarf, smiling at her fondly. "You are here in my room in the middle of the night when my heart was screaming for you," he said quietly. "That alone makes you the most beautiful thing I can think of." He pushed her coat reverently from her shoulders, revealing her nightgown...and highlighting her bare feet in laced up boots. "Now that looks quite silly..." He grinned when she swatted him.
She wrestled her boots off and tossed them aside, and when she finally turned to face him again she suddenly looked so small and fragile, swallowed by the loose fabric, brown eyes large and blonde hair down, feet and legs and hands small and pink.
How strange that such a creature could wield more power over him than anything ever had.
He gathered her to him protectively. Without the coat-without even underskirts or corsets-the feel of her body was so much more immediate and the clouding of his brain was incredibly strong and fast; he knew he'd better talk before he lost the focus to do.
"Rose," he breathed. "Are we…that is, did you…"
Rose looked up, watching him carefully. "Yes, I...want to, with you," she said quietly. "That is, if you want to?"
His smile was soft and incredulous. "Are you mad?" he whispered. He brushed his lips against hers, and for a moment reality was lost again.
----------
A moment more, though, and John pulled back, eyes clenched shut. "Except," he said reluctantly, "it wouldn't do to put you in the family way." He opened his eyes and looked pained.
"It can't happen," Rose informed him, not sure how she was going to explain The Pill without actually stating what it was. She'd continued taking it all through travelling with the Doctor and had felt herself rather pathetic for hoping, but now she couldn't have been more pleased to have done.
John stared at her quizzically. "How can you know that?"
"I...had an illness a while ago, a fever, and the doctor who examined me told me that was the case," she tried.
He blinked and stared at her plaintively. "You can't have them ever?"
Rose felt herself flush warm with affection-the faint disappointment in his tone was so endearing she could hardly stand it. "No, he said I could eventually, someday, just...not now." He remained puzzled. Rose pulled herself closer. "Can you just trust me?" She looked him in the eyes. "I wouldn't lie about this."
He relaxed incrementally, till he finally seemed resolved. "I suppose doctors know best," he smiled. He didn't know the reason Rose laughed out loud.
She quieted his befuddlement by kissing him again.
They continued to stand and kiss and Rose felt herself steadily going mad. The hunger in his kisses was becoming dizzying, and his ardour everywhere else was building-the grip of his hands clenching at her more and more insistently, his lips relentless.
She was impatient to touch him everywhere, wanted to taste inside his mouth, wanted to peel off his clothing and reveal the hard, warm, achingly masculine body she'd been dreaming of for months but she held back from all of it. She didn't know what the norms were, what was expected of her, who she was supposed to be. She was afraid of revealing herself as different or-even worse-putting him off her.
He pulled his mouth away and saved her the trouble. "Rose," he gasped, "please don't think me an animal, but...may I take you to the bed?"
Rose nodded, and he led her by the hand to his bed and then joined her. He gently pushed her nightgown off one shoulder, smoothing his hand over the newly-revealed skin.
"Please let me know if I push things more quickly than you'd like," he said softly.
Rose nodded again, and John leaned forward to kiss her exposed shoulder. Rose bit her lip at the sheer deliciousness of it. He kissed along her collarbone to her neck and Rose's hands floated to the front of his shirt, undoing the buttons. She pushed his braces down and he pulled back to watch her as she spread the shirt open, revealing his undershirt (Uch. Stupid 1913 and all these layers). She untucked the undershirt, slid her hands under the hem and ran them over his chest. John's eyes drifted closed and he sighed, his hands clenching where they lay against his thighs.
She couldn't help lingering on his nipples, making contact softly with the pads of her fingers, causing him to flinch in pleasure. When she looked up at him again, John's eyes held in a kind of quiet realization: "This isn't your first time," he said.
Rose froze and her stomach twisted. "What did I…"
He shook his head. "Nothing, really-you're just...not shy, or uncertain. I don't know, I just suddenly knew."
She couldn't lie to him...completely. "There was one man," she admitted quietly, deciding it was only a slight crime to shave one whole person off her list of two if it helped keep things from falling apart. She thought of Jimmy Stones: "I thought he loved me." That was certainly true enough. She watched his face, her heart now in her throat. "Is that a problem?"
"No," he said immediately, smiling quietly. Rose felt herself relax incrementally as John guided them down to the bed to lie close together, face to face. "Though I must say," he said, his voice husking, "it would have been quite something to be the first to touch you." His hand stroked up and down her arm, his eyes roamed her, and his voice dropped in pitch and volume. "I know I'd certainly like to be the last man who ever does," he murmured. His eyes rose nervously to her face, apparently afraid he'd said too much, too fast.
Rose just stared at him, afraid to say anything about his apparent slip-up. "What about you?" She covered. She was curious to know the TARDIS had put in his head.
For once it didn't seem as though the memories were clear or immediate - his look became faraway, and a little confused. "I was married once." He paused for several seconds. "She's gone now," he said finally, looking to her. Rose nodded, as if she understood.
He ran his fingers softly across her collarbone and shoulder. "It's never felt like this, though."
"No," Rose agreed immediately. "Not for me, either."
A quiet smile bloomed on John's face. "Well, then the other times didn't count, did they? I'd say this is a clean slate, don't you think?" Off Rose's amused nod, he said "Right then. I declare this both our official first times."
Rose bit her lip against a smile. "Well, I suppose I should start being much more shy, as you mentioned. Make you promise to treat me gently and such," she teased.
"Oh, this is nothing to be taken lightly," he said. "I must do this properly." The playfulness in his look faded and his expression became as serious, as breathtakingly earnest as she'd ever seen. He rose to sit again, bringing her with him, and took her hand.
"Miss Tyler...I have no words to express the change you've brought about in me, the feelings you've awakened. You make me feel emotions...passions I thought long buried and cold." Rose stared at him with a building awe: all the beauty and power in his clear blue eyes was focused entirely on her, and she found she could scarcely breathe.
He leaned closer. "I feel like my entire life has blossomed into something miraculous, all due to the goodness and fire and humanity I see in you. I can't stop watching you, just to see what new wonder you'll reveal, what part of me you'll open up next. You make me wish for more ways to touch you-I'm aching to touch your skin but...I wish I had a way to touch every beautiful thing I see in you.
"Please let me attempt to show you everything I feel. I'll never be worthy of it, but..." His free hand cupped her face, eyes never leaving hers. "...would you do me the honour of entrusting me with your virtue?"
Rose's heart had stopped completely.
"You are the only man who'll ever touch me again," she breathed.
An urgency gripped them then that shut out everything else.
--------
Rose Tyler couldn't remember any time before this moment.
This moment when she was fiercely clutching the Doctor to herself, bed sheets tangling around them, kissing and touching him as much as she wanted to, the way she'd always wanted to. Her head spun at the utter steel of his erection against her thigh-dear God, the thought of him, the Doctor finally responding to her this way had her in an anguish of arousal.
No matter what happened next, she would have this. She was experiencing the Doctor as a man, not some fearful celibate substitute-and it was the Doctor, no matter what his alias or current biological disguise. She had broken open his secret and now it was hers. She knew him this way, knew the potential was in him, knew what he felt for her and would defend that memory for as long as she lived.
He seemed to have been emboldened by their talk. His hands roamed her body everywhere they could reach, clutching and pulling and smoothing over her with the unmistakable touch of a man in tremendous need. But he was still doing so over her nightgown-she needed his hands on her skin.
As if he'd read her mind he hauled her upright. "Let me see you," he panted, lips punished and swollen, eyes drugged. His hands went to the hem of her nightdress but she caught them. She knew she had nothing underneath her nightgown and once he took it off he'd be far too distracted to catch up; she wanted them on an even footing. "You first," she whispered.
John seemed both amused and aroused by her request. He sat back and removed his shirt, then lifted off his undershirt; Rose could almost feel her pupils dilate at the sight of his hard, smooth chest, and the stab between her legs was terrible, in a wonderful way.
He reached for her again but she moved aside coyly, biting her lip. "You're not finished." John moved back and continued to oblige her, eyes riveted to her as though she were the most fascinating new species of creature he'd ever seen.
She was aching to see all of him-she'd waited so long. He unfastened his trousers and pulled them off, revealing for her a pair of long underwear with a severely tented front. Despite the haze in her brain she had to suppress a smile. Then the underwear followed and there he was, bare and strong and lean, wiry and beautiful. The moonlight coming in the window showed off the planes and angles of him and his cock stood at rigid attention; her stomach positively wrenched with arousal, thinking of how desperately good it would feel, sliding in and out. She caught him looking at her with an amused uncertainty.
"All right?" he asked quietly.
She met his eyes and smiled. "Very." With a shift of where she sat Rose moved off the hem of her nightdress, and held it out toward him.
He smiled and his eyes grew hungry; he crawled over the bed toward her and took the edge of the fabric, pulling it slowly over her head. A moment later his intake of breath at the sight of her naked was the most gratifying sound she'd ever heard. She gazed at him, spellbound, as he took her in, his expression enthralled. He said nothing, reaching to stroke her breasts. He palmed them gently and Rose gave a low needy moan. She watched his nostrils flare and his focus grow even keener. He pushed them both back to the bed and moved his body to cover hers, lying his weight atop her and both gasped at the feel of skin on skin; John gave a soft growl and Rose and began to get an inkling of just how strongly her reactions affected him.
Their hands moved to touch and glide wherever they could reach. His lips assaulted her neck while hands roamed her sides, down along her hips. When he reached between their bodies, positioning himself she stiffened slightly. It wasn't that she wasn't aroused or ready, but…
"Wait," she whispered.
…Rose wanted something else.
She wasn't sure, but she had a feeling that during this period sex for women was a little "lie back and think of England." She had no idea how much he knew about her body or how he expected things to go. No matter how much he cared for her, he might not know well enough to do what she needed. And she was unwilling to paste on a smile and pretend she was satisfied when she wasn't.
She wanted him to know her.
And besides, there was that little inkling that had formed a moment ago...
John had paused, watching her. Rose met his eyes and gently took his hands and moved them to her breasts, guiding them to move the same way he had done before. He looked a little surprised but readily complied, moving to support himself on one elbow, watching her breasts move and contort with fascination, and looking promptly to Rose's face as her breath quickened.
Rose kept her eyes on his as best she could-giving him every twinge of sensation that crossed her face, showing him openly what this was doing to her-but within a few moments it was torture trying to keep her eyes open. She wanted to drift off with the sensations... and she wanted more. She took the hand of the arm he wasn't leaning on, and moved it between her legs.
John watched her curiously as she covered her hand with his and began stroking herself, using his fingers as the tools to do so. At first just exploratory, general sweeps and touches that made her sigh, till finally she narrowed in on her clit. The first touch made her jump and push her head back into the pillow on a moan.
The intensity of John's look ratcheted up a notch.
She kept his hand there and began concentrating the motions on that spot, occasionally moving his fingers to sweep across areas that also needed attention. Soon she couldn't stay still, her back arching, her hips rising. One arm went up around John's back and she gripped his shoulder hard and pressed herself against him. She let out a helpless noise and heard John moan as well.
"Rose," he whispered raptly, "the way you sound..."
Moments later he gently moved her hand away from his. She opened her eyes to see him staring at her with a fierce, determined arousal. He moved his fingers in a few new ways, clearly cataloguing her reactions. The movements that made her quiet were quickly rejected, and those that made her keen and squirm were immediately repeated. Rose could have sworn his Time Lord intelligence was still at his disposal, watching the speed with which he learned. His other hand kept glancing over her nipple, making it all build that much faster.
Feeling his fingers, watching his face...sense abandoned her quickly and she grew desperate for his touch inside her. She reached down to reposition his thumb on her clit and guided two of his fingers into her, showing him how to curl them inside and move them in and out. A bit of practice and he had it well enough that she was getting what she needed, soaking up the feelings greedily. She was so glad she hadn't been too shy to show him this and that even if he decided afterward that she was a demanding freak, it would have been worth it.
But there seemed little chance of that. She was starting to gasp and cry in a regular rhythm, and each sound she made had him rubbing himself against her side, seemingly subconsciously and out of his control, grunting and gasping on his own.
The utterly delicious slide of his fingers against her opening, the slip of his thumb and the last coherent thought she had was that she hoped she could keep herself from yelling "Doctor" when suddenly her body crested and she was coming and coming, wave after devastating wave. She clutched his arm hard and ground herself shamelessly against his hand, wringing every bit of contact out of the experience and sobbing out sounds that made no sense and when she was finally able to open her eyes she saw that John's eyes were like laser beams, their colour alight from the beams of angled moonlight shining in and staring at her as though she must come from another world.
He should know, she thought, chuckling weakly. So intense. She had never felt anything so intense. And judging by the look in his eyes, neither had he.
Her inkling had been right.
--------
John's heart was pounding and he couldn't catch his breath. He'd never seen, never felt anything like that. He'd never known a woman to be so mindlessly overcome with pleasure, so taken by a perfect storm of ecstasy. It was the logical conclusion of how she'd behaved in the basement scene he'd dreamt about, but even so he was shell-shocked, his manhood so hard it ached.
"You are literally the woman of my dreams," he murmured heatedly.
"Hmm?" she asked, still breathless.
"Explain later," he choked out. "That was magnificent. I've never seen that happen to a woman."
She met his eyes, very deliberately. "You made me feel that," she whispered. She reached out her arms with a smile, welcoming him in.
He fell upon her senselessly, his control utterly lost.
His mouth connected nearly viciously with hers; he kissed her with utter abandon. With just a movement of his hips he slid into her like oil over silk. She was unspeakably hot and swollen and wet; the room tipped and spun.
"Rose…you're a miracle," he gasped against her skin. "You feel like a miracle."
He began thrusting into her, over and over, feeling and hearing her begin to respond and make those noises that were rapidly becoming the only sound he ever wanted to hear. Every sense was consumed by her: the smell of her skin and breath and hair, the taste of her mouth, the hot, clinging slide of the channel between her thighs.
It was all building, building to an undeniable conclusion that began with reason leaving him, him pushing madly to get more of himself inside, wishing the structures of his body would break and fold and melt until he could merge with her and there would be nothing separate anymore and everything in him could feel every bit of her.
It was breaking, it was breaking, he was-
-gone.
A nearly inhuman noise ripped from him as the first surge came, and he gushed into her again and again and again.
He collapsed his weight onto her, lungs heaving, and she clung to his back, stroking it.
They did not separate for a very long time.
--------
Even later in the night, Rose woke from her place curled at John's side, sleepy and comfortable and lulled by a profound kind of peace.
Until she noticed a certain facet of John's sweetly sprawled and sleeping form: a protrusion, tenting the sheets.
She grinned hugely. A nighttime erection. How very human of him.
She wondered how scandalous the woman-on-top position might be in this day and age, and whether John had any memory of ever being woken up for a quickie.
She put her lips near his ear. "John?"
Barely awake: "Hmmf?"
Her grin intensified. "I have an idea..."
Minutes later she was arching atop him, squeezing for maximum contact when she suddenly jolted: John had slipped his finger in against her clit and was sliding it exactly how she needed him to, sleepy eyes cleared and once again watching her with that laser beam stare.
"You're amazing," she panted. She threw her head back. "I love how quickly you learn..."
He watched her in sheer reverence, gasping for breath. "And I want to hear all your ideas."
--------
A few hours later, just minutes before dawn, John finally released Rose to go back to the servants' quarters, but only after extremely lengthy, reluctant goodbyes.
She couldn't keep the warmth of his bed, but she got to take with her the feel of his kisses-still a dull buzz against her overtaxed lips-the smell of him clinging to her skin and the memory of every moment playing vividly, over and over through her brain.
And if she'd not completely left her heart with him before, she'd absolutely done so now.
Author: ahedonia (Anne Hedonia)
Pairing: Nine!Smith/Rose
Rating: M and a half
Betas: seren_ccd looks over prose and tells me what's what / sollersuk polices my history and Britishness
Summary: I went looking for a Smith!Nine/Rose fic that took place at Farringham (not, apparently, "Farrington" - did anyone else notice I'd had the school's name wrong this whole time? Someone on Teaspoon finally mentioned it to me). I couldn't find one, so I started writing. It's pretty much as simple as that.
Previous chapters at my Teaspoon account.
Yes! I've finally got this stupid chapter done and out to you! I apologize for the delay, but I did myself a disservice with the cliffhanger in the last chapter, making such a big deal about the build-up. Between that and all the lovely "hurry up and post!" reviews I got so perfectionistic I could barely choke out a damn word (even though I'd pretty much had it all written in my head for weeks). Finally I told myself JUST WRITE IT! and got 'er done. Then once seren_ccd told me she approved it was good to go.
As a half-finished bonus, I've been working on a banner for this and doing some manip-ing. In case you'd like some revisionist images in your head as you go along here, I'm providing two of the manips I've finished that I hope to put into the banner somehow.
A bit of Nine!Smith, and a bit of Maid!Rose...
And now, after far too much ado already, the fic - as a peace offering, it's nearly twice as long as my usual chapters. I sincerely hope it sends at least someone to her bunk.
--------- Previously ------------
Once at the school building proper she sneaked up the back stairs, into the hall and arrived at John's door, panting faintly, gathering herself.
If this was the only opportunity she would ever have to be with the Doctor, she would take it with both hands and never look back. She could think of no worse fate than to let this chance go by and realize later it would never come again. The regret would certainly kill her.
She knocked softly, and when he opened his door to find her there he was in his shirtsleeves and suit trousers, tie gone and sleeves rolled messily up. He looked not in the least surprised to see her; his pale eyes were quiet and helpless and intensely thankful. He moved aside to let her enter, shut the door behind her and pulled her wordlessly into his arms.
------
They collided tightly and instantly, overwhelmed with the relief of kissing and touching, as if they'd been forced underwater for the last 24 hours and, with the contact and presence of the other, were finally allowed air. John pushed Rose's hat off to bury his fingers in her hair; Rose hurriedly shucked her gloves to stroke John's face and hold the back of his neck barehanded. Their hands were in constant motion, each testing the other's reality with every touch.
After several minutes he pulled back for breath, leaning his forehead against hers. "I just… can't believe you're actually here." His eyes rested half-closed as he let his senses take her in. "Somebody up there took pity on me."
"Somebody down here couldn't stop thinking about you," she murmured. "No pity necessary."
"I can't believe you came, what you're risking, for..." He pulled back a little and gestured in his own general direction. "I would never have asked you to do such a thing."
"I know," she said softly. "That's why I went ahead and did it myself."
He smiled in quiet amazement, his eyes growing drugged with her nearness. "And I'm far too selfish to give you back." He nuzzled her gently. "I'm so sorry I panicked yesterday. I shouldn't have-"
"Shh," she soothed, "you didn't do anything I didn't do as well. Besides..." She took a breath, seemingly to quell an onslaught of nerves. "...this is...scary," she concluded, eyes closed.
He nodded and stroked her hair. "Staying away was a choice that I suspect was doomed from the start," he said ruefully. "Once I'd finally given in...I went mad from wanting more, and from the idea that I'd had my chance and ruined everything."
"I felt exactly the same," she murmured, then blinked at him. "You're not kissing me."
John warmed with quiet pleasure. "Let me fix that."
He bent and kissed her gently; her arms tightened around his neck, pulling him down. He savoured the moment of contact and every moment after that. Each touch of her lips was a tonic against something unnameable that had always pained his soul.
Rose was soon whimpering softly and continuously and John's stomach flipped intensely each time; he was rocketed back to the reaction of his dream Rose. On impulse his fingers brushed her temples experimentally, without result. She gave him a puzzled look. He just smiled. Worth a try.
He was considering the allure of kissing her neck when he suddenly realized how absurdly bundled she still was. He stepped back and bowed slightly. "May I take your coat?" he grinned.
Rose turned pink, as if suddenly remembering. "I look silly."
He unwrapped her scarf, smiling at her fondly. "You are here in my room in the middle of the night when my heart was screaming for you," he said quietly. "That alone makes you the most beautiful thing I can think of." He pushed her coat reverently from her shoulders, revealing her nightgown...and highlighting her bare feet in laced up boots. "Now that looks quite silly..." He grinned when she swatted him.
She wrestled her boots off and tossed them aside, and when she finally turned to face him again she suddenly looked so small and fragile, swallowed by the loose fabric, brown eyes large and blonde hair down, feet and legs and hands small and pink.
How strange that such a creature could wield more power over him than anything ever had.
He gathered her to him protectively. Without the coat-without even underskirts or corsets-the feel of her body was so much more immediate and the clouding of his brain was incredibly strong and fast; he knew he'd better talk before he lost the focus to do.
"Rose," he breathed. "Are we…that is, did you…"
Rose looked up, watching him carefully. "Yes, I...want to, with you," she said quietly. "That is, if you want to?"
His smile was soft and incredulous. "Are you mad?" he whispered. He brushed his lips against hers, and for a moment reality was lost again.
----------
A moment more, though, and John pulled back, eyes clenched shut. "Except," he said reluctantly, "it wouldn't do to put you in the family way." He opened his eyes and looked pained.
"It can't happen," Rose informed him, not sure how she was going to explain The Pill without actually stating what it was. She'd continued taking it all through travelling with the Doctor and had felt herself rather pathetic for hoping, but now she couldn't have been more pleased to have done.
John stared at her quizzically. "How can you know that?"
"I...had an illness a while ago, a fever, and the doctor who examined me told me that was the case," she tried.
He blinked and stared at her plaintively. "You can't have them ever?"
Rose felt herself flush warm with affection-the faint disappointment in his tone was so endearing she could hardly stand it. "No, he said I could eventually, someday, just...not now." He remained puzzled. Rose pulled herself closer. "Can you just trust me?" She looked him in the eyes. "I wouldn't lie about this."
He relaxed incrementally, till he finally seemed resolved. "I suppose doctors know best," he smiled. He didn't know the reason Rose laughed out loud.
She quieted his befuddlement by kissing him again.
They continued to stand and kiss and Rose felt herself steadily going mad. The hunger in his kisses was becoming dizzying, and his ardour everywhere else was building-the grip of his hands clenching at her more and more insistently, his lips relentless.
She was impatient to touch him everywhere, wanted to taste inside his mouth, wanted to peel off his clothing and reveal the hard, warm, achingly masculine body she'd been dreaming of for months but she held back from all of it. She didn't know what the norms were, what was expected of her, who she was supposed to be. She was afraid of revealing herself as different or-even worse-putting him off her.
He pulled his mouth away and saved her the trouble. "Rose," he gasped, "please don't think me an animal, but...may I take you to the bed?"
Rose nodded, and he led her by the hand to his bed and then joined her. He gently pushed her nightgown off one shoulder, smoothing his hand over the newly-revealed skin.
"Please let me know if I push things more quickly than you'd like," he said softly.
Rose nodded again, and John leaned forward to kiss her exposed shoulder. Rose bit her lip at the sheer deliciousness of it. He kissed along her collarbone to her neck and Rose's hands floated to the front of his shirt, undoing the buttons. She pushed his braces down and he pulled back to watch her as she spread the shirt open, revealing his undershirt (Uch. Stupid 1913 and all these layers). She untucked the undershirt, slid her hands under the hem and ran them over his chest. John's eyes drifted closed and he sighed, his hands clenching where they lay against his thighs.
She couldn't help lingering on his nipples, making contact softly with the pads of her fingers, causing him to flinch in pleasure. When she looked up at him again, John's eyes held in a kind of quiet realization: "This isn't your first time," he said.
Rose froze and her stomach twisted. "What did I…"
He shook his head. "Nothing, really-you're just...not shy, or uncertain. I don't know, I just suddenly knew."
She couldn't lie to him...completely. "There was one man," she admitted quietly, deciding it was only a slight crime to shave one whole person off her list of two if it helped keep things from falling apart. She thought of Jimmy Stones: "I thought he loved me." That was certainly true enough. She watched his face, her heart now in her throat. "Is that a problem?"
"No," he said immediately, smiling quietly. Rose felt herself relax incrementally as John guided them down to the bed to lie close together, face to face. "Though I must say," he said, his voice husking, "it would have been quite something to be the first to touch you." His hand stroked up and down her arm, his eyes roamed her, and his voice dropped in pitch and volume. "I know I'd certainly like to be the last man who ever does," he murmured. His eyes rose nervously to her face, apparently afraid he'd said too much, too fast.
Rose just stared at him, afraid to say anything about his apparent slip-up. "What about you?" She covered. She was curious to know the TARDIS had put in his head.
For once it didn't seem as though the memories were clear or immediate - his look became faraway, and a little confused. "I was married once." He paused for several seconds. "She's gone now," he said finally, looking to her. Rose nodded, as if she understood.
He ran his fingers softly across her collarbone and shoulder. "It's never felt like this, though."
"No," Rose agreed immediately. "Not for me, either."
A quiet smile bloomed on John's face. "Well, then the other times didn't count, did they? I'd say this is a clean slate, don't you think?" Off Rose's amused nod, he said "Right then. I declare this both our official first times."
Rose bit her lip against a smile. "Well, I suppose I should start being much more shy, as you mentioned. Make you promise to treat me gently and such," she teased.
"Oh, this is nothing to be taken lightly," he said. "I must do this properly." The playfulness in his look faded and his expression became as serious, as breathtakingly earnest as she'd ever seen. He rose to sit again, bringing her with him, and took her hand.
"Miss Tyler...I have no words to express the change you've brought about in me, the feelings you've awakened. You make me feel emotions...passions I thought long buried and cold." Rose stared at him with a building awe: all the beauty and power in his clear blue eyes was focused entirely on her, and she found she could scarcely breathe.
He leaned closer. "I feel like my entire life has blossomed into something miraculous, all due to the goodness and fire and humanity I see in you. I can't stop watching you, just to see what new wonder you'll reveal, what part of me you'll open up next. You make me wish for more ways to touch you-I'm aching to touch your skin but...I wish I had a way to touch every beautiful thing I see in you.
"Please let me attempt to show you everything I feel. I'll never be worthy of it, but..." His free hand cupped her face, eyes never leaving hers. "...would you do me the honour of entrusting me with your virtue?"
Rose's heart had stopped completely.
"You are the only man who'll ever touch me again," she breathed.
An urgency gripped them then that shut out everything else.
--------
Rose Tyler couldn't remember any time before this moment.
This moment when she was fiercely clutching the Doctor to herself, bed sheets tangling around them, kissing and touching him as much as she wanted to, the way she'd always wanted to. Her head spun at the utter steel of his erection against her thigh-dear God, the thought of him, the Doctor finally responding to her this way had her in an anguish of arousal.
No matter what happened next, she would have this. She was experiencing the Doctor as a man, not some fearful celibate substitute-and it was the Doctor, no matter what his alias or current biological disguise. She had broken open his secret and now it was hers. She knew him this way, knew the potential was in him, knew what he felt for her and would defend that memory for as long as she lived.
He seemed to have been emboldened by their talk. His hands roamed her body everywhere they could reach, clutching and pulling and smoothing over her with the unmistakable touch of a man in tremendous need. But he was still doing so over her nightgown-she needed his hands on her skin.
As if he'd read her mind he hauled her upright. "Let me see you," he panted, lips punished and swollen, eyes drugged. His hands went to the hem of her nightdress but she caught them. She knew she had nothing underneath her nightgown and once he took it off he'd be far too distracted to catch up; she wanted them on an even footing. "You first," she whispered.
John seemed both amused and aroused by her request. He sat back and removed his shirt, then lifted off his undershirt; Rose could almost feel her pupils dilate at the sight of his hard, smooth chest, and the stab between her legs was terrible, in a wonderful way.
He reached for her again but she moved aside coyly, biting her lip. "You're not finished." John moved back and continued to oblige her, eyes riveted to her as though she were the most fascinating new species of creature he'd ever seen.
She was aching to see all of him-she'd waited so long. He unfastened his trousers and pulled them off, revealing for her a pair of long underwear with a severely tented front. Despite the haze in her brain she had to suppress a smile. Then the underwear followed and there he was, bare and strong and lean, wiry and beautiful. The moonlight coming in the window showed off the planes and angles of him and his cock stood at rigid attention; her stomach positively wrenched with arousal, thinking of how desperately good it would feel, sliding in and out. She caught him looking at her with an amused uncertainty.
"All right?" he asked quietly.
She met his eyes and smiled. "Very." With a shift of where she sat Rose moved off the hem of her nightdress, and held it out toward him.
He smiled and his eyes grew hungry; he crawled over the bed toward her and took the edge of the fabric, pulling it slowly over her head. A moment later his intake of breath at the sight of her naked was the most gratifying sound she'd ever heard. She gazed at him, spellbound, as he took her in, his expression enthralled. He said nothing, reaching to stroke her breasts. He palmed them gently and Rose gave a low needy moan. She watched his nostrils flare and his focus grow even keener. He pushed them both back to the bed and moved his body to cover hers, lying his weight atop her and both gasped at the feel of skin on skin; John gave a soft growl and Rose and began to get an inkling of just how strongly her reactions affected him.
Their hands moved to touch and glide wherever they could reach. His lips assaulted her neck while hands roamed her sides, down along her hips. When he reached between their bodies, positioning himself she stiffened slightly. It wasn't that she wasn't aroused or ready, but…
"Wait," she whispered.
…Rose wanted something else.
She wasn't sure, but she had a feeling that during this period sex for women was a little "lie back and think of England." She had no idea how much he knew about her body or how he expected things to go. No matter how much he cared for her, he might not know well enough to do what she needed. And she was unwilling to paste on a smile and pretend she was satisfied when she wasn't.
She wanted him to know her.
And besides, there was that little inkling that had formed a moment ago...
John had paused, watching her. Rose met his eyes and gently took his hands and moved them to her breasts, guiding them to move the same way he had done before. He looked a little surprised but readily complied, moving to support himself on one elbow, watching her breasts move and contort with fascination, and looking promptly to Rose's face as her breath quickened.
Rose kept her eyes on his as best she could-giving him every twinge of sensation that crossed her face, showing him openly what this was doing to her-but within a few moments it was torture trying to keep her eyes open. She wanted to drift off with the sensations... and she wanted more. She took the hand of the arm he wasn't leaning on, and moved it between her legs.
John watched her curiously as she covered her hand with his and began stroking herself, using his fingers as the tools to do so. At first just exploratory, general sweeps and touches that made her sigh, till finally she narrowed in on her clit. The first touch made her jump and push her head back into the pillow on a moan.
The intensity of John's look ratcheted up a notch.
She kept his hand there and began concentrating the motions on that spot, occasionally moving his fingers to sweep across areas that also needed attention. Soon she couldn't stay still, her back arching, her hips rising. One arm went up around John's back and she gripped his shoulder hard and pressed herself against him. She let out a helpless noise and heard John moan as well.
"Rose," he whispered raptly, "the way you sound..."
Moments later he gently moved her hand away from his. She opened her eyes to see him staring at her with a fierce, determined arousal. He moved his fingers in a few new ways, clearly cataloguing her reactions. The movements that made her quiet were quickly rejected, and those that made her keen and squirm were immediately repeated. Rose could have sworn his Time Lord intelligence was still at his disposal, watching the speed with which he learned. His other hand kept glancing over her nipple, making it all build that much faster.
Feeling his fingers, watching his face...sense abandoned her quickly and she grew desperate for his touch inside her. She reached down to reposition his thumb on her clit and guided two of his fingers into her, showing him how to curl them inside and move them in and out. A bit of practice and he had it well enough that she was getting what she needed, soaking up the feelings greedily. She was so glad she hadn't been too shy to show him this and that even if he decided afterward that she was a demanding freak, it would have been worth it.
But there seemed little chance of that. She was starting to gasp and cry in a regular rhythm, and each sound she made had him rubbing himself against her side, seemingly subconsciously and out of his control, grunting and gasping on his own.
The utterly delicious slide of his fingers against her opening, the slip of his thumb and the last coherent thought she had was that she hoped she could keep herself from yelling "Doctor" when suddenly her body crested and she was coming and coming, wave after devastating wave. She clutched his arm hard and ground herself shamelessly against his hand, wringing every bit of contact out of the experience and sobbing out sounds that made no sense and when she was finally able to open her eyes she saw that John's eyes were like laser beams, their colour alight from the beams of angled moonlight shining in and staring at her as though she must come from another world.
He should know, she thought, chuckling weakly. So intense. She had never felt anything so intense. And judging by the look in his eyes, neither had he.
Her inkling had been right.
--------
John's heart was pounding and he couldn't catch his breath. He'd never seen, never felt anything like that. He'd never known a woman to be so mindlessly overcome with pleasure, so taken by a perfect storm of ecstasy. It was the logical conclusion of how she'd behaved in the basement scene he'd dreamt about, but even so he was shell-shocked, his manhood so hard it ached.
"You are literally the woman of my dreams," he murmured heatedly.
"Hmm?" she asked, still breathless.
"Explain later," he choked out. "That was magnificent. I've never seen that happen to a woman."
She met his eyes, very deliberately. "You made me feel that," she whispered. She reached out her arms with a smile, welcoming him in.
He fell upon her senselessly, his control utterly lost.
His mouth connected nearly viciously with hers; he kissed her with utter abandon. With just a movement of his hips he slid into her like oil over silk. She was unspeakably hot and swollen and wet; the room tipped and spun.
"Rose…you're a miracle," he gasped against her skin. "You feel like a miracle."
He began thrusting into her, over and over, feeling and hearing her begin to respond and make those noises that were rapidly becoming the only sound he ever wanted to hear. Every sense was consumed by her: the smell of her skin and breath and hair, the taste of her mouth, the hot, clinging slide of the channel between her thighs.
It was all building, building to an undeniable conclusion that began with reason leaving him, him pushing madly to get more of himself inside, wishing the structures of his body would break and fold and melt until he could merge with her and there would be nothing separate anymore and everything in him could feel every bit of her.
It was breaking, it was breaking, he was-
-gone.
A nearly inhuman noise ripped from him as the first surge came, and he gushed into her again and again and again.
He collapsed his weight onto her, lungs heaving, and she clung to his back, stroking it.
They did not separate for a very long time.
--------
Even later in the night, Rose woke from her place curled at John's side, sleepy and comfortable and lulled by a profound kind of peace.
Until she noticed a certain facet of John's sweetly sprawled and sleeping form: a protrusion, tenting the sheets.
She grinned hugely. A nighttime erection. How very human of him.
She wondered how scandalous the woman-on-top position might be in this day and age, and whether John had any memory of ever being woken up for a quickie.
She put her lips near his ear. "John?"
Barely awake: "Hmmf?"
Her grin intensified. "I have an idea..."
Minutes later she was arching atop him, squeezing for maximum contact when she suddenly jolted: John had slipped his finger in against her clit and was sliding it exactly how she needed him to, sleepy eyes cleared and once again watching her with that laser beam stare.
"You're amazing," she panted. She threw her head back. "I love how quickly you learn..."
He watched her in sheer reverence, gasping for breath. "And I want to hear all your ideas."
--------
A few hours later, just minutes before dawn, John finally released Rose to go back to the servants' quarters, but only after extremely lengthy, reluctant goodbyes.
She couldn't keep the warmth of his bed, but she got to take with her the feel of his kisses-still a dull buzz against her overtaxed lips-the smell of him clinging to her skin and the memory of every moment playing vividly, over and over through her brain.
And if she'd not completely left her heart with him before, she'd absolutely done so now.