Whispers in Her Ear, from Across the Room (1/1)
Title -Whispers in Her Ear, from Across the Room (1/1)
Author - earlgreytea68
Rating - Adult
Characters - Ten, Rose
Spoilers - None.
Disclaimer - I don't own them and I don't make money off of them, but I don't like to dwell on that, so let's move on.
Summary - It's sex in the middle of the planet. Who wouldn't want to read a fic about that?
Author's Note - Thanks to chicklet73 for the beta!
Another fic inspired by my ramblings around Boston. The Mapparium really exists, and I highly recommend visiting if you're ever in the area.
What better way to ring in the New Year than with some good, old-fashioned, Ten/Rose smut? I hope your 2011 is full of happiness, joy, laughter, and love.
The icon was created by swankkat , commissioned by jlrpuck for my birthday.
They were sitting on the edge of the TARDIS, its doors open, their legs dangling in the darkness of space, eating chocolate-covered strawberries and drinking a sweet, fizzy drink from the planet Silth that was the Doctor’s favorite drink in the universe.
It was a date that would have been extraordinary for anyone else, but had become pretty typical for them.
Rose looked from the Earth below them to the Doctor next to her, happily sucking the last of a strawberry from its green stem. She smiled, watching now as he aimed toward the bag they were using to collect the stems, floating in the TARDIS’s gravity bubble. He tossed the stem carefully, tongue out in concentration, and then looked pleased with himself, so she assumed it had been a successful attempt. Then he turned to pick up another strawberry and realized she was looking at him.
“What?” he asked, reaching for a strawberry.
“I love you,” she said.
He flushed slightly, which was silly, since she’d been telling him she loved him for more years than either of them could really remember anymore. But he looked as pleased as always. “Thank you,” he said, and offered her the strawberry.
She bit it delicately, from between his fingers, and watched him successfully throw the stem into the bag in front of them again.
“How many times have we sat here and watched the Earth?” she asked, after she’d swallowed.
He considered, leaning back onto his elbows and kicking his legs idly. “Dunno,” he concluded, finally, and took a sip from his bottle of fuzziner. Then he looked at her. “I thought you liked it.”
“I do like it,” she told him, honestly. “I’m not complaining. I was just wondering. I thought you kept track of these things.”
“I used to,” he admitted.
“You stopped?”
“Yes.”
She leaned over him, smiling. “Good.”
“Why ‘good’?”
“Because you relaxed, and I like that you relaxed. You’re very nice when you’re relaxed.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.” She kissed the freckles on the bridge of his nose, then straightened and looked back out at the Earth.
He looked at her back speculatively. “Would you like to do something different?”
She turned her head to look at him. “Different like what?”
“Seeing the Earth, in a way you’ve never seen it before.”
He could tell she was intrigued. “And just how would that be?”
“Wait and see.” He picked himself up lightly, reaching out for the floating bag and grabbing it. “Come on,” he said, heading back toward the console.
Rose picked up the remaining strawberries and closed the door.
The Doctor was already pulling at knobs and pushing at levers. “Ready?” he inquired, without looking up, hearing her come up behind him.
“I’ll just put the strawberries away,” she told him, and he nodded, and by the time she’d come back from the kitchen he’d already landed them and verified he’d gotten them to the right place.
“Okay,” he said, reaching a hand out for her.
She complied, hand settling warmly into his, grinning. “I’m excited. The Earth in a way I’ve never seen it before.”
“Wait until you see it,” he replied. “You’re going to love it.” He opened the door, and they stepped out into a large marble hall, with a fountain bubbling in the middle of it. The hall was dark, and quiet except for the whisper of the water sliding over copper.
Rose blinked in the darkness. “Aren’t you going to turn on a light?” she whispered, because speaking louder than a whisper seemed inappropriate.
“Not yet. This way.” He led her along unerringly, knowing the way by heart. Sometimes the Doctor seemed to be able to see in the dark like a cat, and other times he could see less well than she could. Just like sometimes he could remember every tiny detail about something, and other times she was lucky he remembered to eat. He was still, even after all the years, in many ways an enigmatic study of contrasts, and she was happy that there were still pieces of him she could not predict.
He paused and turned to her. “Okay, we’re here,” he said. “Just through those doors. Go on.” He opened the doors for her, and, still a bit bewildered, Rose walked through them.
She heard the telltale buzz of the sonic screwdriver, and then lights came on all around her, and she uttered a small gasp of surprise, because she was standing in the middle of the Earth. At least, that was the effect, because she was standing on a small glass bridge that ran directly through a sphere of colored glass, and the sphere of colored glass was the Earth: bright countries linked together in continents, floating in the bright blue she always associated with Earth. The map of the planet rose all around her, below and on top of her, surrounding her. When she tipped her head back, she could see Canada drifting into the North Pole at the top, and there, below her, off to her left, Australia. She walked into the room, turning and lifting her head to find Great Britain, floating high above her head.
She looked at the Doctor, who had followed her inside and was now sonicking the door locked. “It’s amazing.” Then she jumped, as her voice sounded in stereo all around her.
“D’you like it?” He looked pleased with himself. “The acoustics on this room are quite something, aren’t they? It’s because it’s all glass, and round.”
“Never mind the acoustics,” said Rose. “We’re looking at the planet from the inside out.”
“Yes.” The Doctor, hands in his pockets, sauntered over to stand with her, looking around. “Clever, isn’t it? You’ve seen this a million times, from the outside, but isn’t it odd, what a shift in perception it is to see it this way? Brazil is always bigger than I remember,” he remarked, musingly, studying it.
“This is fantastic,” pronounced Rose, leaning way over to see Antarctica.
“The Earth in a way you’ve never seen it before. Was I right?”
“You were right.”
“Good. I’m glad you like it.”
“I can’t believe you’ve never taken me before. Any of us. The kids would have loved this.”
“Brem may have been here,” he said, distractedly. “We are in Boston. Back to the acoustics.”
“The acoustics,” she complained. “It’s gorgeous in here, and you’re going to give me a science lesson?”
“Go stand at that end,” he said, nodding his head toward the opposite end of the bridge, while he backed up to stand right against the doors through which they’d entered.
She did as he requested, looking back at him. “Okay. Now what?”
“Take off your shirt,” he whispered in her ear.
Rose jumped, startled, looking to her left. But of course he wasn’t there. He was standing on the opposite side of the room, one corner of his mouth tipped up in that smug, sexy smirk of his.
“How did you do that?” she demanded.
“Acoustics, Rose,” he called across to her. “But you’re not interested in a science lesson, are you?”
She smiled and took off her shirt and heard his small exhalation of breath as clearly as if he’d been standing right next to her. She kind of liked this, she decided, and whispered into the globe, “What else do you want?”
“Welllllll, your bra would be nice,” his whisper came back. “If you were so inclined.”
She smiled and unhooked her bra and tossed it over the side of the bridge, where it came to a rest on the South Pole. The Doctor, eyes locked on it through the glass floor of the bridge, whispered, “What would you like?”
“Absolutely nothing,” she whispered back. “I want you fully clothed.”
He lifted his eyes from her bra on Antarctica, meeting hers across the world. “Your trainers,” he whispered.
She leaned down, untying them and then primly stepping out of them. “Socks?” she suggested.
“You’ll leave smudges on the glass bridge,” he whispered back.
“Ah. Yes, one thing we never do is leave a mess,” she agreed, gravely.
He smiled from across the room. “Jeans,” he said, with a small movement of his head.
She smiled back, unbuttoning and unzipping and then wriggling out of them as slowly as she could, checking to make sure he was watching, which of course he was. She stepped out of them and kicked them delicately aside, then looked across at him. “Knickers?” she suggested, innocently.
“Off would be good.” His whisper sounded strangled, and she heard him clear his throat, low and furtively, as if he didn’t quite want to admit that he was aroused, which was absolutely ridiculous.
She slid her knickers off and placed them on top of her jeans, looking across at him. “Well? Whatever next?”
“I have several ideas.”
“Do they involve you getting undressed at all?”
“Many of them.”
“Do they involve you touching me?”
“All of them.”
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
“Rose-”
“What would you do first? If we weren’t in a room with acoustics, if you really were whispering in my ear. What would you do first?”
He was silent for a second. “I’d…Your breast.”
“Left? Right?”
“Both.”
“How?”
“First I’d cup them.”
She lifted her hands up, letting the warm weight of her breasts settle in her palms. “Like this?”
His gaze was riveted. “Yes.”
“Then?”
“Then I’d taste you. Lick you.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Take a nipple in my mouth and suck.”
“And my nipple would be hard,” whispered Rose, rubbing them between her fingers.
“Yes,” he hissed, his hands reaching for the button on his trousers.
“Don’t,” said Rose, instantly, dropping her hands away.
He froze. “What?”
“No touching. Not me, not yourself, not yet.”
She heard him draw in a deep breath, and then hold it, carefully folding his arms and leaning back against the door. Then he exhaled, finally. “All right. What next?”
“What would you do?”
“You tell me. What would you like for me to do?”
“You might nip a bit,” she decided, after a second. “A brush of your teeth, just a flash of them, just enough to…” She trailed off as she pinched her nipples.
“I think I would have moved on by now,” he remarked, his voice a very low rumble that chased its way to her over the globe.
“Do you think so?” she gasped.
“Definitely. I’d definitely have at least a finger inside of you by now.”
“You wouldn’t,” she countered, struggling to move slowly. She placed her hands over her ribcage, ran them slowly down her abdomen. “You’d pause here, on my stomach, and you’d tell me something ridiculous about the seasons on the planet Croses.”
His chuckle was more wicked than any expression of amusement had a right to be. “You’re right, I would. But then I would definitely have my fingers inside of you.”
“You’d pause,” she said, now sliding her fingers into the curls between her legs. “You’d survey. You’d spread me apart slowly. You’d barely touch me, you’d whisper over me, you’d breathe against me.” Her fingers mirrored her words, barely skimming over her, and, because she’d worked herself into a state where she desperately wanted to be touched just there, she refused to let herself, forcing herself not to.
His breaths were pants in her ear from across the room. “Do I go that bloody slowly? How do you stand me?”
“You would slip inside me,” she continued, the words coming in hiccups of breath as she watched him watch her. “One finger, just one.” She demonstrated. “And I would arch against your hand, like so, and you would take it away…” She forced herself to move her hand away.
He groaned from the other side of the room and shifted position again against the door. “Rose,” he bit out. “You have to let me-”
“And you’d do it again,” she cut him off, doing it again. “And you’d smile against me, and you’d tell me that you’ll make me beg for it, and you’d suck at me, and I would, oh, I would-” She had given up with torturing herself, was working herself now, arching into and against her own hand.
“Rose,” he said.
She threw her head back, eyes closed, focusing. “I would say, ‘Yes, Doctor, please, Doctor, please-”
He startled her by closing his fingers around her wrist and pulling her hand away from her, and she gasped and opened her eyes, surprised that he had reached her so quickly. They stared at each other, both breathing hard. He took one slow, deliberate step that brought his body in full, flush contact with hers, the scratch of his suit and the heat of his trapped erection. Then he tipped his head and sucked one of her fingers into his mouth, licking it quite thoroughly. She closed her eyes and moaned and reached for him with the hand he wasn’t sucking at, closing around a fistful of his coat.
He dropped her wrist, settled both of his hands at the back of her head, and kissed her, a wet, slightly messy kiss, the taste of her on him. She tousled at his hair, and he muttered a swear into her mouth, fumbling with his trousers and then pulling back, swearing again.
She pushed his hands out of the way, doing it for him, unbuttoning the button and rasping down the zipper, and she slid to her knees but he pulled her immediately back up.
“Don’t you dare,” he growled. “I am way too close, I wouldn’t last ten seconds, and that isn’t how I want it just now.”
“Tell me what you want,” she said, breathlessly.
“Take off my coat.”
She did it quickly, shoving it off him. He heard it drop to the bridge behind him and turned them so it was behind her instead.
“Down,” he said, nodding toward it, and she obeyed, spreading it out a bit more as she got settled, and he yanked at the knot of his tie before deciding that removing it was a lot of effort when Rose was in front of him, and he followed her onto the coat, struggling with trousers and pants and swearing again in the process. “My eloquence is failing me tonight,” he said, and thrust inside her.
“Shut up,” she gasped, closing her eyes and arching into him.
“I want it fast,” he said, against her ear, already driving into her in a bruising rhythm.
“Hard,” she agreed, panting and shifting under him to adjust their angle.
“How does it go, when I make you beg for it?” He pressed her hands on either side of her head, against the glass of the bridge. “What do you say?”
“I say…God.”
“Wrong name.”
“I say…Yes. Doctor. Please. Doctor. Please.”
It sounded in stereo, echoing around him. He groaned and spoke Gallifreyan into her ear, her name and his name, tangled up as one, the way they were throughout the universe, and she climaxed with a shout that pulled him into his own climax, and her fingers curled around his as he gasped her name helplessly against her.
It was a little while before he spoke, and he was heavy on her and uncomfortable, the clothes he’d never removed digging against her skin at unkind angles, and she was about to say something about it, and then he mumbled, “Antarctica.”
“What?” she asked, in bewilderment, kissing a bit of sweat off his neck.
“I’m looking at Antarctica.”
She smiled and opened her own eyes, at the North Pole above her. “I love this place,” she said.
“Your bra is on Antarctica.”
“My bra has ended up in stranger places.”
“True,” he allowed. “I’m moving in a second, I swear it.”
“It’s fine.”
“I know it’s not, but, you see, you are bloody fantastic.” He did move then, a tiny bit, kissing a line up her neck.
She giggled with pleasure, which was ridiculous, so far along in their life together, to still be so tickled when he expressed delight with a shag. Ridiculous and wonderful, she thought.
He reached her chin and lifted his head to look down at her. His color was still high, and his eyes were that lovely, soft shade of utter contentment that she adored.
“You’re not too shabby yourself.”
“’Not too shabby’?” he echoed, with a frown.
“Well, let’s face it, we’re on a glass bridge. There are more comfortable places.”
“But we’re in the middle of the planet. Don’t I get points for the romance of making love in the center of the planet?”
“There’s Mexico,” she remarked, “right over your shoulder.”
“Romantic, right?”
She tousled his hair, and his eyes closed. He rolled part of the way off her, nuzzling at her as he drew her against him.
“We’ll move in a second,” he promised, lazily.
“We don’t have to,” she said, settling against him. “We can stay here forever.”
“We can’t. It’s a tourist attraction. There’ll be people traipsing through here come morning.”
“I was being poetic.”
“Ah. Poetic. I see.” He kissed the top of her head.
“What will the tourists say about my bra on Antarctica?”
“They’ll say, ‘What lucky bloke got seduced here last night?’”
“You seduced me.”
He snorted.
She shifted to look down at him. “You did! You told me to take off my shirt!”
“Yeah, but then you, you know…” He made a vague gesture in the air.
“What is the exact translation of that gesture?”
“It’s too filthy for me to say out loud,” he responded, with affected primness.
She smiled. “Do you think the TARDIS could build us one of these? Only without the bridge. And maybe it could rotate. I could shag you right on the Soviet Union.”
“The Soviet Union’s never sounded so sexy,” he responded, and lifted his head to kiss the tip of her nose, before sitting up entirely. They were mostly on his coat, but, glancing over his shoulder, he could see the smudges of where his hands had pressed hers against the glass.
“The Doctor and Rose,” she said, following his gaze. “Not leaving a mess through time and space.”
He chuckled and looked at her. “The stuff of legend,” he said.
“Yup. Let’s get dressed, you can take me for chips.” She stood up and walked over to the heap of her clothing.
He stood as well, straightening out his own clothing, picking up his coat and shaking it out.
“I blame you for this,” she said from behind him.
“For what?” he said, turning.
And then she pointed. “My knickers,” she said, “ended up on New Zealand.”