Doctor/Rose Fic: Sex, Love and Time
Title: Sex, Love and Time
Author: Gowdie
Rating: Adult (See above re title.)
Characters: Doctor 10.5 / Rose
Summary: The Doctor learns a number things during his first night as a part human Time Lord.
Author’s Note: So the Support Stacie Auction featured an interesting turn of events this Christmas. I was won through a generous bid by wiggiemomsi, but she gifted me to the_tenzo. Well, I say gifted, I mean more blackmailed/held for porn ransom. It’s a fic love triangle. All very modern and pervy.
Anyhoo, the_tenzo requested 10.5/Rose, the Doctor learning about his new humanness, mulled wine and a fire. She absolved me of a Christmas theme, but I ended up squeezing in a tiny bit anyway. This is how I cobbled all that together. It is unconnected to any other Doctor/Rose story I have written. Consider it a column B.
The Doctor learned many things during his first night as a part human Time Lord.
He learned what it was like to feel cold.
Sure, temperatures in either extreme, those he could appreciate, though he was rarely bothered by them. But the vague damp chill brought on by too much time walking along an empty Norwegian beach? That was altogether new. He didn’t think he liked it.
Luckily the trio of travelers had stumbled upon this tiny bed and breakfast before dark, with two rooms to spare. Jackie had dismissed them with barely a tired wave, anxious to call home again and make plans for the morning. Now, even Rose had left him briefly alone, as she retreated to the shower.
The Doctor’s suit was soaked through. Not dripping, but heavy and wet. His socks were moist and filled with sand. And his skin was clammy and cold. He set about building a fire in the small hearth, determined to blame his shaking hands on physical discomfort, and not, decidedly not, on fear. Nasty little niggling worries and doubts.
Would he be able to do this? Keep all his promises to Rose? Make her happy? Survive as a human? This body was already starting to alarm him with its clattering and shivering. What other differences were lurking, yet to be discovered? Could he get along without his beloved ship - the one constant he’d always had till now? Forgive himself for what this chance, his very existence, had certainly cost Donna?
Now, now, none of that. It was definitely just the cold.
He learned what it felt like to have his one human heart clench in a moment of emotional panic.
“Did you nick that?” The accusation came from Rose. She was standing a few feet away, wrapped in a terry bathrobe, her hair still wet. And she was suspiciously eyeing the sonic screwdriver in his hand, which he’d just used to set the wood aflame.
“Of course not,” the Doctor scoffed, though he immediately hid the device away in one of his pockets. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”
“I suppose,” Rose sniffed. It was obvious she’d been crying. Her back straightened. “I made a choice.”
Somehow the confident declaration filled him with unease. “Alright,” he said, raising his hands, in a useless attempt to ward off what was about to follow. This was it. No matter how passionate that kiss had been, somehow, something had gone horribly wrong in the ten minutes they’d been apart and now she was about to reject him. Forever. Ever and ever. And ever.
“But it’s not between the two of you,” she continued. “I could never. If you’d left it to me to pick one or the other, we’d still be standing on that beach. I could never leave you. Not any version of you.”
He breathed again. “I know.” He did know. He’d always known. It’s why he always had to be the one to send her away. Except, not this time. Not for this him. Maybe it was a trick of the biology, or the one heart, or the shortened lifespan, but the first thing he’d learned when she’d kissed him was he’d lost the strength to walk away from Rose again. No matter how great a danger loomed.
She came to kneel beside him. “So I choose… I choose to believe in you. You’re the Doctor. Yeah?”
He swallowed over the lump in his throat and tried to sound as certain as he could. “Yes.”
Rose smiled a little, despite the tears still in her eyes. “Do you… Do you promise?”
With more bravado the Doctor answered, “Yes.” He gripped her shoulders and gave her an even stare. “Do you know how much you mean to me? Do you think I would ever let you go if I didn’t absolutely believe it was the right thing to do, for you? Do you think I would ever give you second best?” It was funny how clear and simple that logic seemed when he was using it to convince Rose, even as it was hard to wrap his own mind around the same self-belief.
Rose half nodded, half shook her head in acceptance. She did believe in him. Her face crumpled. “But he’s still alone.”
That much could not be denied. “Yes,” he answered simply.
She nodded again, tears flowing free, and he wrapped her in his arms. They stayed that way for a long time, taking comfort in each other. Enjoying the safety of the embrace, the slight movement as they each took a breath, the sound of the crackling fire. Feeling the slow burning pain building in his knees, as his joints started objecting to their position. Hmmmm, so much for romance.
Rose seemed to have a similar thought as she pushed against his chest. “You should shower.”
“Rose Tyler,” the Doctor teased, “are you insinuating that I smell?”
Her nose crinkled. “Little bit.”
The Doctor learned the relief a shower could bring to a newly tender body.
Finally pealing the damp soiled material away from his skin was quite the start, to be sure, but the hot water… Oh, the hot water might qualify as a miracle, heaven on earth, if he believed in such things.
The smell of smoke and the feel of soot were washed down the drain. And the pounding heat soothed the knots in his aching neck and back. Aching muscles, that was new. Oh, he was quite familiar with pain. But not from so little work. And it didn’t usually linger with the same dull insistence.
He was reluctant to get out. He was a new man. A new, new man. Or was that a new, new, new man? But the water started to cool, and he figured it would be a shame to allow his fresh skin to prune.
The Doctor dried and dressed in the second bathrobe, which smelled wonderfully clean. He spent some quality time in the mirror, artfully disheveling his hair. Oh. There’s a horrid thought. What if it started to … recede?
No. No, no, no, no, no, no. He absolutely forbade it. He loved his hair. He put the small plastic courtesy comb down on the counter and eyed it warily. At the very least a brief scientific study on the correlation between product use and male pattern baldness might be in order. That and possible alien technology. Although, it didn’t seem that Pete Tyler had made any great discoveries on that front from the look of things.
Eventually, in a great waft of steam, the Doctor emerged.
“Thought you’d drowned,” Rose called to him, from her place in front of the fire.
He joined her on the floor, and she pressed a cup into his hand. “They brought up some mulled wine. It’s nice. Warm.”
He took a tentative taste of the dark red liquid. “Hmm, cinnamon.”
The Doctor learned he quite enjoyed the effects of alcohol.
Slowly sipping the rich wine, he felt it lazily seeping through his veins, warming him from the inside. That, plus the heat from the fire, the soft comfort of his robe, and Rose pressed to his side, chased away all his memories of being cold.
He’d drunk before, but it wasn’t the same as this. While he had always got a kick out of the slight giddy freedom in the past, he could regulate his response. Control the chemical reactions in his body, and direct the excess away.
Now this little bit of wine was making promises. Taking him on a pleasant hazy journey. And he liked it. It loosened his tongue. And also, fascinatingly, gave him a gentle pleasing buzz in his groin.
The Doctor tucked a lock of Rose’s nearly dry hair behind her ear and asked, “Confession?” At her nod, he whispered, “I gave up on you. I swore once that I believed in you more than anything else, and I gave up on you. I thought I’d never see you again. It wasn’t possible.”
“Rude,” she murmured.
“Oh, more than that. Sacrilege.” He paused. He wanted her to understand what he was trying to say. “Then the whole universe was ending, and in the middle it, in the middle of that disaster, you came back. That’s what you gave us. That’s what you’ve always given me. That’s how you made me better. Hope. Even when I’m all alone.”
Rose bit her lip and studied him. “You’re talking about him.”
He blinked his confirmation and charged ahead. “This is the chance to live the one adventure I could never have before, with you. And it’s not perfect. It’s not the way I would have wanted, but it’s the only way I can.” The lump in the Doctor’s throat was threatening again, but he swallowed it down. “It took the impossible: traveling across the void, metacrisis that has never happened, me essentially being spilt into two. And one of us has to give you up, keep traveling forever. And I get this one chance. This short human life with you.”
She furrowed her brow and offered, “It doesn’t seem fair.”
“It’s not fair,” he agreed. “But we both understand it’s the only way. And we’ll take it.”
The Doctor watched her then. Not sure exactly where to go from there. His heart was pounding, his mouth was dry, and he wanted something. Some kind of affirmation of all these promises. Some gesture on both their parts that this was certain, this was sure. The path was chosen and they would not deviate.
Rose kissed him.
And the Doctor learned he liked kissing. Very, very much.
It wasn’t the same desperate clench as on the beach. Rose’s lips lightly whispered against his for a brief moment. She pulled back, traced the edge of her nose along both sides of his own, and the pressed again, a little harder. She moved from his top lip, to the bottom with the tiniest little sucking pressure. The tip of her tongue darted out in hesitant greeting, and he opened his mouth, welcoming her taste.
He ventured forward, sliding his tongue all the way to the base of hers. He wanted to drink her, swallow her down. He satisfied himself with finding every little recess of her mouth that he could explore. Savouring the feel of each lip, the roof of her mouth, the tiny space between her lips and teeth, the inside of her cheek. He drew her tongue all the way into his mouth and sucked hard, pulling every drop of moist flavour he could inside himself and down his throat.
That’s when the Doctor learned he could still read the timelines. All that ever could be. He couldn’t control it. Maybe it was the wine, or the hormones, or the heady combination of both, but with each gasp of pleasure, a glimpse of the future washed over him.
~ ~ ~
“Rose, do you know what this is?” The Doctor had found the device in what was essentially a junk pile. They were in the bowels of Torchwood. Rose had snuck him in for a sort of a show and tell. He had been desperately curious to see her dimension cannon, and she was letting him pick his way through all their scavenged technology. There was a silent understanding that many items would likely find their way home in his pockets.
“Some kind of wrist communicator?” she answered, peering over his shoulder. “It’s broken. No one could figure out how to recalibrate it properly.”
“It’s a time vortex manipulator!” he exclaimed, already digging for his sonic screwdriver.
Rose perked up instantly. “Like Jack’s?”
“Precisely. And the reason it doesn’t work is because you don’t have the correct base code.” He zapped a few bits of wire until the digital screen settled into a functional looking sequence. He shook his head. “It’s no TARDIS. It’s really a child’s push scooter compared to the TARDIS’ Harley Davidson. But it could get the job done.” He eyed her carefully. “If you want.”
Rose bit her lip. He could see she was sorely tempted. “Is it safe?”
“Sure,” he scoffed. “Well, safe enough. With me.” He bumped her shoulder and raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Want to give it a go?”
Rose smiled brilliantly and securely threaded her arm through his. With the quick tap of a few buttons they blinked out of existence.
And winked back in the middle of the Tyler family kitchen. The first thing the Doctor was aware of was a resounding crash, quickly followed by the familiar sound of Jackie’s angry screech. “Oh my God! Where the hell have you two been! Disappeared, that’s what they told me. Gone for three days! And now you just pop out of nowhere, in the middle of supper!”
Rose doubled over beside him, moaning, “Oh I feel sick.”
But he didn’t have time to tend to her, not with the way her mother was thundering over him. Jackie may have been significantly shorter than he was, but right now he didn’t feel it. “Sorry, I’m so sorry!” He truly was. They had hit the right destination, but he had been aiming for only three minutes into the future.
“That’s what you said last time!” Jackie yelled, putting her hands firmly on her hips. “This wasn’t supposed to happen again. How did you even manage it?”
“Trial run,” the Doctor blustered. He tried to match her rage out of a sense of self-preservation. “I can fix it.”
“I’ll fix the pair of you, putting me through this again. Without even a warning! Do you have any idea what that’s like?” She looked ready to hit someone, though the Doctor wasn’t sure who. She seemed almost as furious with Rose. Though, in all likelihood, it would probably still be him to receive the actual beating. Mothers were strange that way.
Fortunately, Rose chose that moment to break the tension by spectacularly emptying the contents of her stomach all over the ceramic tiled floor.
Jackie was instantly at her daughter’s side. Thank creation for a mother’s instinct. She pulled Rose’s hair out of the way and tried to lead her to a chair. “You never made her vomit before. Suppose you can fix that?”
The Doctor scratched his chin. “Maybe some Dramamine. Sorry,” he added, mostly to Rose, “like I explained, child’s push scooter of time travel. But I can adjust the date. Make it a bit more accurate.” Both women glared at him; one murderous, the other woozily annoyed. “And when I say a bit, I mean much, much more accurate. Absolute finite precision even.”
~ ~ ~
On the floor in front of the fire, the Doctor pushed Rose’s robe off her shoulder. He followed the revealed skin with his mouth, kissing down her neck, nibbling where her shoulder met her throat, sucking against her pulse.
The warmth of her body was radiating to him, and he needed to feel all of her. He pulled her sash open, and parted the cloth. For a moment, he stopped, letting his eyes slowly travel over all there was to behold. Every curve. He’d never seen Rose completely bare before.
For her part, Rose began to fidget a little, apparently self-conscious under his rather intense gaze. “Doctor?”
“Sorry,” he soothed, running a palm down her arm, over her stomach, along her thigh. “I want to lock this memory away. Rose, naked, for the first time.”
She smiled at him then, biting her tongue. “Play your cards right, you’ll be seeing this a lot more.”
The Doctor licked his lips. “Now that’s a promise I’ll make sure you keep.” He softly caressed both her breasts with his hands, and lowered his mouth to the valley between, enjoying the feel of her pressed against his cheeks. He nuzzled his way up and over to a nipple, sucking it between his lips, then laving it with his tongue. The taste of her skin was intoxicating, and he wanted more.
He slowly sampled every inch of her body, finally settling between her legs. Again, for a moment, he merely looked at her. Marveling at how here was a part of Rose he’d never thought would be his. He hadn’t even really ever considered it before, really. And now he was unable to move away, her heady scent was drawing him in, and he needed to consume.
If Rose had been fidgeting before, she was really squirming now. “Doctor?” she pleaded.
So he let her off the hook. He traced lightly at first, gentle swipes with the length of his tongue. Then dipping inside, before swirling up where she wanted him most. He took pleasure in the sensation of her intimately sliding against his lips, her tang filling his mouth. She bucked up against him, and he suckled her folds, her clit, devouring her entirely.
It was amazing, really. He had honestly never been tempted. It had been centuries, literally. He could have traveled with Rose forever, and not once given in. Now he didn’t think he could ever stop wanting her.
The Doctor was learning exactly why the human race had so successfully survived until the ends of time.
~ ~ ~
“What about the star?” Rose asked, standing at his side.
“Doesn’t fit.” It was entirely possible the Doctor had gotten a wee bit carried away with this project, but it was their first Christmas together, in this world, and he thought that deserved a magnificent tree. He had even insisted Rose accompany him out to the nearest tree farm to chop one down. Well, he says chop, he means carefully slice with his sonic screwdriver. Still, the principle remained the same. He had also purchased what he had been told was an ‘ungodly’ number of lights and ornaments. The woman at the till hadn’t appreciated the irony of her word choice, neither had she appreciated him pointing it out to her, apparently. If her exaggerated eye rolling, and “Merry Christmas to you too, sir,” could be taken as any indication.
The resulting decorated Scots Pine was a bit of a monster, filling almost a quarter of the living room in their flat, and stretching all the way from the floor to the very ceiling. The Doctor was extremely proud. If they were going to do domestic, spending an afternoon lovingly adorning a tree conquered together seemed like one of the best traditions.
“Lights?” Rose offered.
“Absolutely,” he answered, already getting down to his hands and knees to crawl underneath and find the plug. For her part, Rose flipped off all the other lamps in the room.
They stood together, and observed their creation. “It’s beautiful,” Rose whispered.
It was. It really was. What was most amazing of all was the effect the twinkling lights had on him. He was calm. Peaceful. Perfectly content to just stand still and enjoy this moment.
Rose lowered herself to the floor, and tugged on his hand. “Come here.” They scooted forward, poking their feet just under the lowest branches. For a long time they simply lay there, watching the shimmer and shadows play on the soft green needles. Rose broke the silence. “I always wanted a tree that was big enough to lie down and stare up at like this.”
The Doctor turned to his side, propping his head on his hand. “I would have though Pete went for a big tree.”
“He did.” She smiled at him. “But I didn’t have the right person to share it with then, did I?”
The Doctor kissed her. Slowly, taking his time, even as his hand stole up and started unbuttoning her shirt. He was suddenly overcome with the desire to see the coloured lights dancing on her skin.
~ ~ ~
Rose was staring at him. She had removed his robe, had him stretched out naked before the fire, and now she was staring at him, tracing her fingers ever so lightly across his face. “What are you doing?” the Doctor asked.
“Counting every one of your freckles,” she answered, finding the few that hid just beneath his hairline.
Was she comparing him? Checking that each tiny fraction of skin remained the same? “It’s me, Rose.”
“I know. Never got the chance to do this before, did I?” Rose demonstrated her point, leaning forward and peppering his face with tiny kisses.
He couldn’t help himself from asking, “Are you implying you thought about it?”
“All the time.” Her delicate lips moved over the bridge of his noise, across his eyebrows.
The Doctor chuckled, “A full accounting could take a while.”
“Do you mind?” she asked, dusting across his chin.
Well, it was a tough call, deciding whether or not he could be patient enough. But then the tips of her fingers started caressing the shell of his ear, even as the kisses traveled down his neck, over his collar bone. Lower to his chest. He swallowed. Good things come to those who wait. “Take your time.” Her tongue darted out, swirling around a nipple. Yes, very good things indeed.
This whole physical intimacy thing might be new, but he could learn patience. Maybe.
~ ~ ~
“No,” Rose seethed, struggling behind him.
“What do you mean, no?” the Doctor demanded. How on earth she could just decide that she had the final word was beyond him. Certainly this should be a joint decision. And certainly this knot should not be quite so difficult to untangle. Sailing hadn’t even been invented yet!
“I mean, no,” she repeated. “Absolutely not.” She hopped up and down on her bum, attempting to loosen the ropes, but really only serving to bang the back of her head against his rather painfully.
“Isn’t it my right as father, to teach my son how to drive?” he insisted, wriggling his shoulders. If he could at least get his jacket down his arms a bit, perhaps she would be able to reach.
He could feel Rose’s hands groping around in the material as she argued, “Maybe in some stuffy old fashioned Time Lord society, but not in London, no.”
The slim metal of the screwdriver was pressed into his hands. He quickly found the right setting, but he couldn’t see what he was aiming for at all. He had no choice but to press the button and hope for the best. “Why not?”
“Because I’ve seen you drive,” Rose answered, already pulling at the ropes. “And I would like him to live past his seventeenth.”
Happily freed, the Doctor scrambled to his feet. “I’m a very good driver.” He offered Rose his hand to help her up.
She ignored him, choosing to stand on her own. She nodded to their admittedly prehistoric surroundings. “Do I even need to answer that?”
It was true; he had been aiming for ancient Greece. Still, a chance to see homo neanderthalensis up close was fascinating. Just look at their obvious use of tools! “Well, I guess it’s a good thing our son doesn’t actually exist yet, then.”
“Guess so.” Rose grinned as she threaded her fingers through his, and nodded in the direction of their captors. “Looks like they're coming back.”
The Doctor presented his wrist. “So, run for our lives, or try again for Greece?”
Rose scoffed, “Oh, you’re not using that thing again till you have a chance to sit down and set it properly. We’re likely to pop up over a volcano.”
“Right then,” he nodded. She did have a point. He pulled her toward the bushes shouting, “Running it is!”
~ ~ ~
They had moved to the bed. To say that the Doctor felt there was a certain sense of ceremony would be a distinct understatement of nearly incalculable proportions.
This was the moment. He was about to make love to Rose Tyler for the first time. He was about to make love as human for the first time. And he hoped, he would pray if he did that sort of thing, he sincerely wished that she would be the last person he ever made love to again.
Please let fate be kind to him, just this once. Don’t take her away. Let them have their happy ending. Let them grow old together. And let the time when they died be so far in the future, let them be so old and withered, and so well lived, that they didn’t mind the leaving.
Rose was resting beneath him. His hips between her legs. His cock nestled against her stomach. And they were tenderly touching, tracing patterns over patches of skin. Sharing a few last reverent kisses. Waiting. Waiting for what, he wasn’t sure. Maybe for the moment when they couldn’t stand this last barrier of physical separation for a second longer.
Rose shifted her body and took him in hand. Hot breath whispered against his ear, “I want to feel you inside me. Now.”
The Doctor pushed forward, just a little, only allowing the head inside the tantalizing wet heat. He paused for a kiss. Then moved forward a little more. The restraint was nearly killing him, sweat already gathering at his temples, but his first experience of slipping inside Rose’s body was something he wanted to remember and enjoy for a very long time. He pulled back just a bit, then pressed up all the way inside.
He was buried as deeply as he could be. Every inch grasped tightly within her. And it was oh so good.
Rose was staring at him again. Wide eyed. This is what it felt like to let himself be fully loved.
And the Doctor learned how vulnerable his one heart could be.
~ ~ ~
“So this is Harry Potter World, is it?” Rose asked, looking sadly unimpressed, standing in the hotel room doorway.
“That’s right,” the Doctor beamed, pointedly ignoring her disappointment. He flung his arms out and spun around, hoping she would catch his delight. “Isn’t it brilliant?”
Her arms remained crossed over her chest as she clarified, “All of time, and you bring us to a giant theme park?”
“I like J.K. Rowling,” he defended. He was not going to give in so easily. He flopped onto the four poster and bounced with enthusiasm. “Besides, this is the thirty-first century, when they actually have the technology to make all the magic work.”
Rose walked into the room, but her posture remained skeptical. “Aren’t you worried that some Voldemort wannabe will show up to ruin everything?” He put his hands behind his head and arched an eyebrow in her direction. “Sorry, poor word choice there. I said ‘worried,’ should’ve been ‘hoping.’”
“You never know,” the Doctor shrugged, trying not to sound too desperately hopeful for a little alien drama. The vortex manipulator didn’t seem to have quite the same talent for depositing them right in the middle of a dastardly plot the same way the TARDIS used to do. Still, trouble generally tended to find them eventually, if they were patient enough.
“So,” Rose drawled, running her hands along the canopy, “what do we do while we wait for this megalomaniac to reveal himself?”
“Oh you know,” he answered, trying to sound offhand. He crossed his ankles and fiddled with his tie. She really had no idea the delights awaiting them. “Take in some Quidditch, sample the Butterbeer.”
“Isn’t it all a bit childish? Flying around on broomsticks?”
“Oh, Rose,” the Doctor chided. “Harry Potter is not childish. It’s filled with important universal themes. Good verses evil. Responsibility. Tolerance.”
“Bogey-flavoured jelly beans,” she practically sang.
“It’s true,” the Doctor agreed, rising from his place on the bed. “Ms. Rowling sprinkled her imaginary world with some rather splendid make believe creations that would appeal in a story about a young boy coming of age.” He walked across the room toward the door that would reveal their adjoining bath. “Chess pieces that move. Playing cards that explode. Sweets that give you hemorrhoids and leave you constipated.” Here he stopped, and raised a single finger to point at her dramatically. “But you’re forgetting one other very important thing that she wrote about.”
“What’s that, then?” Rose asked, coming to stand beside him.
He had reeled her in. Now for the big finish. He threw open the door with as much flourish as he could muster. “The giant bathtubs!”
The gasp Rose let out was extremely satisfying. “You’re kidding.”
“Oh no,” the Doctor grinned, already loosening his tie. “Last one in’s a rotten flubber worm.”
~ ~ ~
Rose was arching beneath him. Her feet hooked behind his bum, her legs squeezing him tight. Her hips moving with his, trying to match his rhythm, as he slid in and out. The Doctor was trying, desperately, to give her as much pleasure as she was giving him, but he wanted to be sure.
“Tell me how it feels,” he groaned.
Rose sucked on her top lip. Her eyes tightly closed. “Hmmm, good.”
“More,” he grunted. “Tell me more.”
She opened her eyes, probably surprised at the request.
Well, if they were going to go for the sex, they might as well talk dirty. If he could form a sentence he might let her know what she was doing to him, especially when she tightened her muscles, on each stroke. Just. Like. That.
“You’re stretching me wide open,” she finally panted. “I’m full, full of you.”
He lunged forward, again and again.
“You’re inside me,” she was gasping. “And you’re touching a place that I usually can’t even feel. That I’m usually barely even aware of.”
He ground against her hard.
“And every time you move, it, it sparks.” She sounded near breathless, but she kept going. “Pleasure. All through me. And it’s you.”
The Doctor was near helpless. “I’m going to come.”
“No,” Rose pleaded. “Please no. Please not yet.”
“Touch yourself,” he reasoned. He couldn’t. His hands were clasped in the sheets in a death grip, and he was holding on for dear life.
Rose shook her head from side to side. “No! Want it to be you. Just you.”
He appreciated the gesture, but this really didn’t seem like the time to be stubborn. He wished he could tell her.
And the Doctor learned what it felt like to beg for strength.
~ ~ ~
“Oh, you’re beautiful, darling.” The Doctor heard Jackie’s voice cooing from inside the vestibule. He wondered idly if she would ever forgive him for what he was about to do. Well, she should know by now what she was getting by way of a son-in-law.
The church was full. The day was perfect, not a rain cloud in sight. Even the Doctor had to admit that the flowers were rather lovely, if a bit pink. But he also knew what he had seen in the minister’s chambers and Jackie Tyler’s lifelong dream of a fairly tale wedding was about to be shattered, again. Good thing she still had Tony.
The Doctor sighed as he pushed against the heavy oak. He really had tried to get this day right.
“Oi!” Jackie exclaimed immediately upon seeing his head pop round the door. “You’re not supposed to be in here!”
“Right, sorry.” He ran his hands nervously through his hair, trying valiantly not to look directly at Rose, but failing entirely. She seemed to anticipate what was coming, if the way she was already hitching up her dress was any indication. “I’m always a bit rubbish at weddings,” he offered by way of apology. “It’s just… Well… I’m afraid… That is to say, RUN!”
Afterward, the Doctor almost felt sorry for the invading aliens. Well, he would say sorry, but the fact was they were quite aggressive about the whole taking over the world mandate. And they did somehow seem to seek him out in particular, and that was a bit alarming. At the same time, watching their leader be punched in the face by Jackie Tyler as she screamed, “This is my daughter’s wedding!” was a sight to induce at least a semblance of pity. They hadn’t even needed a “this planet is defended” speech before they turned tail and ran.
The satin pillow that had held their rings was charred almost beyond recognition. The Doctor had spied the smallest glimpse of pink and rescued it from the rubble. It had been intended that Tony would do the honours during the ceremony, but he was currently occupied being smothered in kisses by his mother.
When he found Rose, she was standing amid the debris. The bottom of her dress was ripped away, and her veil was still smoldering a little. The air was filled with drifting ash, and it surrounded her like a halo, dusting her hair. She was beautiful.
The Doctor approached her with his hands deep in his pockets. “For what it’s worth, your dress was stunning.”
“Thanks,” she replied, sticking her tongue between her teeth. She reached forward and fingered his bow tie. “Always liked you in a tux.”
“You shouldn’t,” he warned. “It’s cursed.” He sniffed and kicked at what appeared to be the remains of a video camera. “Do you suppose we should try again?”
“Are you mad?” Rose blurted. “The world might actually end. No, this,” she gestured at the chaos surrounding them. “This is our wedding day. Not sure I would’ve had it any other way.”
Grinning from ear to ear, the Doctor held out the smaller of their matching rings. Fortunately the bands had escaped direct flame, and had not lost their luster or shape. “So, Rose Tyler, for better or worse?”
She offered her hand. “Only if you kiss the bride. Immediately.”
~ ~ ~
Rose was lifting her hips off the bed as he pulled back from each thrust. Which was good. Because every shred of his control was completely lost.
“I’m so close,” she cried. “Doctor! Please!”
He was doing this to her. Causing her to throw her head back, and moan his name. Making her dig her fingernails into his back. His cock, plunging into her, was making her thrash about. To throw all dignity aside as she begged to him to fuck her harder. And if he kept thinking like this, he wasn’t going to make it.
“I’m gonna break! Break apart!”
Math. Physics. The precise orbit of the moon.
“Oh God!”
Temporal shifts and the consequences thereof.
“So close!”
The full code and all subsections of the Shadow Proclamation.
“More!”
The Gallifreyan alphabet.
“Yes!”
Rose’s body jerked and she spasmed around him. He felt the shudder move all through her as she held him impossibly tighter.
Thank all the stars! He let his mind go. Focused back on the pleasure washing over him and dragging him under. He desperately thrust once, twice more, and his orgasm overtook him. Pulling him over the edge into shattering bliss.
When sense returned, the Doctor realized the visions had stopped. And he was glad; he had seen enough to trust. He didn’t want to be sure of everything.
He was drifting, and Rose was murmuring words of love against his hair. He clung to her. He wouldn’t be letting go any time soon; the shivering had returned.
It had cost so much, this life. More than he would have allowed if he’d been given a choice. It had cost his best friend. And that’s not fair, that so not fair. Perhaps it was this selfish human heart, but he wanted to hope that maybe even if she knew, Donna would have wanted this for him.
In ways it was terrifying. Fragile. Fleeting. Confusing. But also, it turns out, quite brilliant.
For Donna, for Rose, for the him on the other side; if nothing else, he would bloody well live the hell out of this life for them. He still had so much left to learn.
Fin
Shameless self-pimping! This story has been nominated in Round Three at the Children of Time Awards. There are also many, numerous, oodles of other wonderful stories and authors there to discover/rediscover and celebrate. Please take the time to vote. If you're in the mood to do so now, follow the handy picture link below designed by the glorious mitashade. Voting closes on May 31st.
Author: Gowdie
Rating: Adult (See above re title.)
Characters: Doctor 10.5 / Rose
Summary: The Doctor learns a number things during his first night as a part human Time Lord.
Author’s Note: So the Support Stacie Auction featured an interesting turn of events this Christmas. I was won through a generous bid by wiggiemomsi, but she gifted me to the_tenzo. Well, I say gifted, I mean more blackmailed/held for porn ransom. It’s a fic love triangle. All very modern and pervy.
Anyhoo, the_tenzo requested 10.5/Rose, the Doctor learning about his new humanness, mulled wine and a fire. She absolved me of a Christmas theme, but I ended up squeezing in a tiny bit anyway. This is how I cobbled all that together. It is unconnected to any other Doctor/Rose story I have written. Consider it a column B.
The Doctor learned many things during his first night as a part human Time Lord.
He learned what it was like to feel cold.
Sure, temperatures in either extreme, those he could appreciate, though he was rarely bothered by them. But the vague damp chill brought on by too much time walking along an empty Norwegian beach? That was altogether new. He didn’t think he liked it.
Luckily the trio of travelers had stumbled upon this tiny bed and breakfast before dark, with two rooms to spare. Jackie had dismissed them with barely a tired wave, anxious to call home again and make plans for the morning. Now, even Rose had left him briefly alone, as she retreated to the shower.
The Doctor’s suit was soaked through. Not dripping, but heavy and wet. His socks were moist and filled with sand. And his skin was clammy and cold. He set about building a fire in the small hearth, determined to blame his shaking hands on physical discomfort, and not, decidedly not, on fear. Nasty little niggling worries and doubts.
Would he be able to do this? Keep all his promises to Rose? Make her happy? Survive as a human? This body was already starting to alarm him with its clattering and shivering. What other differences were lurking, yet to be discovered? Could he get along without his beloved ship - the one constant he’d always had till now? Forgive himself for what this chance, his very existence, had certainly cost Donna?
Now, now, none of that. It was definitely just the cold.
He learned what it felt like to have his one human heart clench in a moment of emotional panic.
“Did you nick that?” The accusation came from Rose. She was standing a few feet away, wrapped in a terry bathrobe, her hair still wet. And she was suspiciously eyeing the sonic screwdriver in his hand, which he’d just used to set the wood aflame.
“Of course not,” the Doctor scoffed, though he immediately hid the device away in one of his pockets. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”
“I suppose,” Rose sniffed. It was obvious she’d been crying. Her back straightened. “I made a choice.”
Somehow the confident declaration filled him with unease. “Alright,” he said, raising his hands, in a useless attempt to ward off what was about to follow. This was it. No matter how passionate that kiss had been, somehow, something had gone horribly wrong in the ten minutes they’d been apart and now she was about to reject him. Forever. Ever and ever. And ever.
“But it’s not between the two of you,” she continued. “I could never. If you’d left it to me to pick one or the other, we’d still be standing on that beach. I could never leave you. Not any version of you.”
He breathed again. “I know.” He did know. He’d always known. It’s why he always had to be the one to send her away. Except, not this time. Not for this him. Maybe it was a trick of the biology, or the one heart, or the shortened lifespan, but the first thing he’d learned when she’d kissed him was he’d lost the strength to walk away from Rose again. No matter how great a danger loomed.
She came to kneel beside him. “So I choose… I choose to believe in you. You’re the Doctor. Yeah?”
He swallowed over the lump in his throat and tried to sound as certain as he could. “Yes.”
Rose smiled a little, despite the tears still in her eyes. “Do you… Do you promise?”
With more bravado the Doctor answered, “Yes.” He gripped her shoulders and gave her an even stare. “Do you know how much you mean to me? Do you think I would ever let you go if I didn’t absolutely believe it was the right thing to do, for you? Do you think I would ever give you second best?” It was funny how clear and simple that logic seemed when he was using it to convince Rose, even as it was hard to wrap his own mind around the same self-belief.
Rose half nodded, half shook her head in acceptance. She did believe in him. Her face crumpled. “But he’s still alone.”
That much could not be denied. “Yes,” he answered simply.
She nodded again, tears flowing free, and he wrapped her in his arms. They stayed that way for a long time, taking comfort in each other. Enjoying the safety of the embrace, the slight movement as they each took a breath, the sound of the crackling fire. Feeling the slow burning pain building in his knees, as his joints started objecting to their position. Hmmmm, so much for romance.
Rose seemed to have a similar thought as she pushed against his chest. “You should shower.”
“Rose Tyler,” the Doctor teased, “are you insinuating that I smell?”
Her nose crinkled. “Little bit.”
The Doctor learned the relief a shower could bring to a newly tender body.
Finally pealing the damp soiled material away from his skin was quite the start, to be sure, but the hot water… Oh, the hot water might qualify as a miracle, heaven on earth, if he believed in such things.
The smell of smoke and the feel of soot were washed down the drain. And the pounding heat soothed the knots in his aching neck and back. Aching muscles, that was new. Oh, he was quite familiar with pain. But not from so little work. And it didn’t usually linger with the same dull insistence.
He was reluctant to get out. He was a new man. A new, new man. Or was that a new, new, new man? But the water started to cool, and he figured it would be a shame to allow his fresh skin to prune.
The Doctor dried and dressed in the second bathrobe, which smelled wonderfully clean. He spent some quality time in the mirror, artfully disheveling his hair. Oh. There’s a horrid thought. What if it started to … recede?
No. No, no, no, no, no, no. He absolutely forbade it. He loved his hair. He put the small plastic courtesy comb down on the counter and eyed it warily. At the very least a brief scientific study on the correlation between product use and male pattern baldness might be in order. That and possible alien technology. Although, it didn’t seem that Pete Tyler had made any great discoveries on that front from the look of things.
Eventually, in a great waft of steam, the Doctor emerged.
“Thought you’d drowned,” Rose called to him, from her place in front of the fire.
He joined her on the floor, and she pressed a cup into his hand. “They brought up some mulled wine. It’s nice. Warm.”
He took a tentative taste of the dark red liquid. “Hmm, cinnamon.”
The Doctor learned he quite enjoyed the effects of alcohol.
Slowly sipping the rich wine, he felt it lazily seeping through his veins, warming him from the inside. That, plus the heat from the fire, the soft comfort of his robe, and Rose pressed to his side, chased away all his memories of being cold.
He’d drunk before, but it wasn’t the same as this. While he had always got a kick out of the slight giddy freedom in the past, he could regulate his response. Control the chemical reactions in his body, and direct the excess away.
Now this little bit of wine was making promises. Taking him on a pleasant hazy journey. And he liked it. It loosened his tongue. And also, fascinatingly, gave him a gentle pleasing buzz in his groin.
The Doctor tucked a lock of Rose’s nearly dry hair behind her ear and asked, “Confession?” At her nod, he whispered, “I gave up on you. I swore once that I believed in you more than anything else, and I gave up on you. I thought I’d never see you again. It wasn’t possible.”
“Rude,” she murmured.
“Oh, more than that. Sacrilege.” He paused. He wanted her to understand what he was trying to say. “Then the whole universe was ending, and in the middle it, in the middle of that disaster, you came back. That’s what you gave us. That’s what you’ve always given me. That’s how you made me better. Hope. Even when I’m all alone.”
Rose bit her lip and studied him. “You’re talking about him.”
He blinked his confirmation and charged ahead. “This is the chance to live the one adventure I could never have before, with you. And it’s not perfect. It’s not the way I would have wanted, but it’s the only way I can.” The lump in the Doctor’s throat was threatening again, but he swallowed it down. “It took the impossible: traveling across the void, metacrisis that has never happened, me essentially being spilt into two. And one of us has to give you up, keep traveling forever. And I get this one chance. This short human life with you.”
She furrowed her brow and offered, “It doesn’t seem fair.”
“It’s not fair,” he agreed. “But we both understand it’s the only way. And we’ll take it.”
The Doctor watched her then. Not sure exactly where to go from there. His heart was pounding, his mouth was dry, and he wanted something. Some kind of affirmation of all these promises. Some gesture on both their parts that this was certain, this was sure. The path was chosen and they would not deviate.
Rose kissed him.
And the Doctor learned he liked kissing. Very, very much.
It wasn’t the same desperate clench as on the beach. Rose’s lips lightly whispered against his for a brief moment. She pulled back, traced the edge of her nose along both sides of his own, and the pressed again, a little harder. She moved from his top lip, to the bottom with the tiniest little sucking pressure. The tip of her tongue darted out in hesitant greeting, and he opened his mouth, welcoming her taste.
He ventured forward, sliding his tongue all the way to the base of hers. He wanted to drink her, swallow her down. He satisfied himself with finding every little recess of her mouth that he could explore. Savouring the feel of each lip, the roof of her mouth, the tiny space between her lips and teeth, the inside of her cheek. He drew her tongue all the way into his mouth and sucked hard, pulling every drop of moist flavour he could inside himself and down his throat.
That’s when the Doctor learned he could still read the timelines. All that ever could be. He couldn’t control it. Maybe it was the wine, or the hormones, or the heady combination of both, but with each gasp of pleasure, a glimpse of the future washed over him.
~ ~ ~
“Rose, do you know what this is?” The Doctor had found the device in what was essentially a junk pile. They were in the bowels of Torchwood. Rose had snuck him in for a sort of a show and tell. He had been desperately curious to see her dimension cannon, and she was letting him pick his way through all their scavenged technology. There was a silent understanding that many items would likely find their way home in his pockets.
“Some kind of wrist communicator?” she answered, peering over his shoulder. “It’s broken. No one could figure out how to recalibrate it properly.”
“It’s a time vortex manipulator!” he exclaimed, already digging for his sonic screwdriver.
Rose perked up instantly. “Like Jack’s?”
“Precisely. And the reason it doesn’t work is because you don’t have the correct base code.” He zapped a few bits of wire until the digital screen settled into a functional looking sequence. He shook his head. “It’s no TARDIS. It’s really a child’s push scooter compared to the TARDIS’ Harley Davidson. But it could get the job done.” He eyed her carefully. “If you want.”
Rose bit her lip. He could see she was sorely tempted. “Is it safe?”
“Sure,” he scoffed. “Well, safe enough. With me.” He bumped her shoulder and raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Want to give it a go?”
Rose smiled brilliantly and securely threaded her arm through his. With the quick tap of a few buttons they blinked out of existence.
And winked back in the middle of the Tyler family kitchen. The first thing the Doctor was aware of was a resounding crash, quickly followed by the familiar sound of Jackie’s angry screech. “Oh my God! Where the hell have you two been! Disappeared, that’s what they told me. Gone for three days! And now you just pop out of nowhere, in the middle of supper!”
Rose doubled over beside him, moaning, “Oh I feel sick.”
But he didn’t have time to tend to her, not with the way her mother was thundering over him. Jackie may have been significantly shorter than he was, but right now he didn’t feel it. “Sorry, I’m so sorry!” He truly was. They had hit the right destination, but he had been aiming for only three minutes into the future.
“That’s what you said last time!” Jackie yelled, putting her hands firmly on her hips. “This wasn’t supposed to happen again. How did you even manage it?”
“Trial run,” the Doctor blustered. He tried to match her rage out of a sense of self-preservation. “I can fix it.”
“I’ll fix the pair of you, putting me through this again. Without even a warning! Do you have any idea what that’s like?” She looked ready to hit someone, though the Doctor wasn’t sure who. She seemed almost as furious with Rose. Though, in all likelihood, it would probably still be him to receive the actual beating. Mothers were strange that way.
Fortunately, Rose chose that moment to break the tension by spectacularly emptying the contents of her stomach all over the ceramic tiled floor.
Jackie was instantly at her daughter’s side. Thank creation for a mother’s instinct. She pulled Rose’s hair out of the way and tried to lead her to a chair. “You never made her vomit before. Suppose you can fix that?”
The Doctor scratched his chin. “Maybe some Dramamine. Sorry,” he added, mostly to Rose, “like I explained, child’s push scooter of time travel. But I can adjust the date. Make it a bit more accurate.” Both women glared at him; one murderous, the other woozily annoyed. “And when I say a bit, I mean much, much more accurate. Absolute finite precision even.”
~ ~ ~
On the floor in front of the fire, the Doctor pushed Rose’s robe off her shoulder. He followed the revealed skin with his mouth, kissing down her neck, nibbling where her shoulder met her throat, sucking against her pulse.
The warmth of her body was radiating to him, and he needed to feel all of her. He pulled her sash open, and parted the cloth. For a moment, he stopped, letting his eyes slowly travel over all there was to behold. Every curve. He’d never seen Rose completely bare before.
For her part, Rose began to fidget a little, apparently self-conscious under his rather intense gaze. “Doctor?”
“Sorry,” he soothed, running a palm down her arm, over her stomach, along her thigh. “I want to lock this memory away. Rose, naked, for the first time.”
She smiled at him then, biting her tongue. “Play your cards right, you’ll be seeing this a lot more.”
The Doctor licked his lips. “Now that’s a promise I’ll make sure you keep.” He softly caressed both her breasts with his hands, and lowered his mouth to the valley between, enjoying the feel of her pressed against his cheeks. He nuzzled his way up and over to a nipple, sucking it between his lips, then laving it with his tongue. The taste of her skin was intoxicating, and he wanted more.
He slowly sampled every inch of her body, finally settling between her legs. Again, for a moment, he merely looked at her. Marveling at how here was a part of Rose he’d never thought would be his. He hadn’t even really ever considered it before, really. And now he was unable to move away, her heady scent was drawing him in, and he needed to consume.
If Rose had been fidgeting before, she was really squirming now. “Doctor?” she pleaded.
So he let her off the hook. He traced lightly at first, gentle swipes with the length of his tongue. Then dipping inside, before swirling up where she wanted him most. He took pleasure in the sensation of her intimately sliding against his lips, her tang filling his mouth. She bucked up against him, and he suckled her folds, her clit, devouring her entirely.
It was amazing, really. He had honestly never been tempted. It had been centuries, literally. He could have traveled with Rose forever, and not once given in. Now he didn’t think he could ever stop wanting her.
The Doctor was learning exactly why the human race had so successfully survived until the ends of time.
~ ~ ~
“What about the star?” Rose asked, standing at his side.
“Doesn’t fit.” It was entirely possible the Doctor had gotten a wee bit carried away with this project, but it was their first Christmas together, in this world, and he thought that deserved a magnificent tree. He had even insisted Rose accompany him out to the nearest tree farm to chop one down. Well, he says chop, he means carefully slice with his sonic screwdriver. Still, the principle remained the same. He had also purchased what he had been told was an ‘ungodly’ number of lights and ornaments. The woman at the till hadn’t appreciated the irony of her word choice, neither had she appreciated him pointing it out to her, apparently. If her exaggerated eye rolling, and “Merry Christmas to you too, sir,” could be taken as any indication.
The resulting decorated Scots Pine was a bit of a monster, filling almost a quarter of the living room in their flat, and stretching all the way from the floor to the very ceiling. The Doctor was extremely proud. If they were going to do domestic, spending an afternoon lovingly adorning a tree conquered together seemed like one of the best traditions.
“Lights?” Rose offered.
“Absolutely,” he answered, already getting down to his hands and knees to crawl underneath and find the plug. For her part, Rose flipped off all the other lamps in the room.
They stood together, and observed their creation. “It’s beautiful,” Rose whispered.
It was. It really was. What was most amazing of all was the effect the twinkling lights had on him. He was calm. Peaceful. Perfectly content to just stand still and enjoy this moment.
Rose lowered herself to the floor, and tugged on his hand. “Come here.” They scooted forward, poking their feet just under the lowest branches. For a long time they simply lay there, watching the shimmer and shadows play on the soft green needles. Rose broke the silence. “I always wanted a tree that was big enough to lie down and stare up at like this.”
The Doctor turned to his side, propping his head on his hand. “I would have though Pete went for a big tree.”
“He did.” She smiled at him. “But I didn’t have the right person to share it with then, did I?”
The Doctor kissed her. Slowly, taking his time, even as his hand stole up and started unbuttoning her shirt. He was suddenly overcome with the desire to see the coloured lights dancing on her skin.
~ ~ ~
Rose was staring at him. She had removed his robe, had him stretched out naked before the fire, and now she was staring at him, tracing her fingers ever so lightly across his face. “What are you doing?” the Doctor asked.
“Counting every one of your freckles,” she answered, finding the few that hid just beneath his hairline.
Was she comparing him? Checking that each tiny fraction of skin remained the same? “It’s me, Rose.”
“I know. Never got the chance to do this before, did I?” Rose demonstrated her point, leaning forward and peppering his face with tiny kisses.
He couldn’t help himself from asking, “Are you implying you thought about it?”
“All the time.” Her delicate lips moved over the bridge of his noise, across his eyebrows.
The Doctor chuckled, “A full accounting could take a while.”
“Do you mind?” she asked, dusting across his chin.
Well, it was a tough call, deciding whether or not he could be patient enough. But then the tips of her fingers started caressing the shell of his ear, even as the kisses traveled down his neck, over his collar bone. Lower to his chest. He swallowed. Good things come to those who wait. “Take your time.” Her tongue darted out, swirling around a nipple. Yes, very good things indeed.
This whole physical intimacy thing might be new, but he could learn patience. Maybe.
~ ~ ~
“No,” Rose seethed, struggling behind him.
“What do you mean, no?” the Doctor demanded. How on earth she could just decide that she had the final word was beyond him. Certainly this should be a joint decision. And certainly this knot should not be quite so difficult to untangle. Sailing hadn’t even been invented yet!
“I mean, no,” she repeated. “Absolutely not.” She hopped up and down on her bum, attempting to loosen the ropes, but really only serving to bang the back of her head against his rather painfully.
“Isn’t it my right as father, to teach my son how to drive?” he insisted, wriggling his shoulders. If he could at least get his jacket down his arms a bit, perhaps she would be able to reach.
He could feel Rose’s hands groping around in the material as she argued, “Maybe in some stuffy old fashioned Time Lord society, but not in London, no.”
The slim metal of the screwdriver was pressed into his hands. He quickly found the right setting, but he couldn’t see what he was aiming for at all. He had no choice but to press the button and hope for the best. “Why not?”
“Because I’ve seen you drive,” Rose answered, already pulling at the ropes. “And I would like him to live past his seventeenth.”
Happily freed, the Doctor scrambled to his feet. “I’m a very good driver.” He offered Rose his hand to help her up.
She ignored him, choosing to stand on her own. She nodded to their admittedly prehistoric surroundings. “Do I even need to answer that?”
It was true; he had been aiming for ancient Greece. Still, a chance to see homo neanderthalensis up close was fascinating. Just look at their obvious use of tools! “Well, I guess it’s a good thing our son doesn’t actually exist yet, then.”
“Guess so.” Rose grinned as she threaded her fingers through his, and nodded in the direction of their captors. “Looks like they're coming back.”
The Doctor presented his wrist. “So, run for our lives, or try again for Greece?”
Rose scoffed, “Oh, you’re not using that thing again till you have a chance to sit down and set it properly. We’re likely to pop up over a volcano.”
“Right then,” he nodded. She did have a point. He pulled her toward the bushes shouting, “Running it is!”
~ ~ ~
They had moved to the bed. To say that the Doctor felt there was a certain sense of ceremony would be a distinct understatement of nearly incalculable proportions.
This was the moment. He was about to make love to Rose Tyler for the first time. He was about to make love as human for the first time. And he hoped, he would pray if he did that sort of thing, he sincerely wished that she would be the last person he ever made love to again.
Please let fate be kind to him, just this once. Don’t take her away. Let them have their happy ending. Let them grow old together. And let the time when they died be so far in the future, let them be so old and withered, and so well lived, that they didn’t mind the leaving.
Rose was resting beneath him. His hips between her legs. His cock nestled against her stomach. And they were tenderly touching, tracing patterns over patches of skin. Sharing a few last reverent kisses. Waiting. Waiting for what, he wasn’t sure. Maybe for the moment when they couldn’t stand this last barrier of physical separation for a second longer.
Rose shifted her body and took him in hand. Hot breath whispered against his ear, “I want to feel you inside me. Now.”
The Doctor pushed forward, just a little, only allowing the head inside the tantalizing wet heat. He paused for a kiss. Then moved forward a little more. The restraint was nearly killing him, sweat already gathering at his temples, but his first experience of slipping inside Rose’s body was something he wanted to remember and enjoy for a very long time. He pulled back just a bit, then pressed up all the way inside.
He was buried as deeply as he could be. Every inch grasped tightly within her. And it was oh so good.
Rose was staring at him again. Wide eyed. This is what it felt like to let himself be fully loved.
And the Doctor learned how vulnerable his one heart could be.
~ ~ ~
“So this is Harry Potter World, is it?” Rose asked, looking sadly unimpressed, standing in the hotel room doorway.
“That’s right,” the Doctor beamed, pointedly ignoring her disappointment. He flung his arms out and spun around, hoping she would catch his delight. “Isn’t it brilliant?”
Her arms remained crossed over her chest as she clarified, “All of time, and you bring us to a giant theme park?”
“I like J.K. Rowling,” he defended. He was not going to give in so easily. He flopped onto the four poster and bounced with enthusiasm. “Besides, this is the thirty-first century, when they actually have the technology to make all the magic work.”
Rose walked into the room, but her posture remained skeptical. “Aren’t you worried that some Voldemort wannabe will show up to ruin everything?” He put his hands behind his head and arched an eyebrow in her direction. “Sorry, poor word choice there. I said ‘worried,’ should’ve been ‘hoping.’”
“You never know,” the Doctor shrugged, trying not to sound too desperately hopeful for a little alien drama. The vortex manipulator didn’t seem to have quite the same talent for depositing them right in the middle of a dastardly plot the same way the TARDIS used to do. Still, trouble generally tended to find them eventually, if they were patient enough.
“So,” Rose drawled, running her hands along the canopy, “what do we do while we wait for this megalomaniac to reveal himself?”
“Oh you know,” he answered, trying to sound offhand. He crossed his ankles and fiddled with his tie. She really had no idea the delights awaiting them. “Take in some Quidditch, sample the Butterbeer.”
“Isn’t it all a bit childish? Flying around on broomsticks?”
“Oh, Rose,” the Doctor chided. “Harry Potter is not childish. It’s filled with important universal themes. Good verses evil. Responsibility. Tolerance.”
“Bogey-flavoured jelly beans,” she practically sang.
“It’s true,” the Doctor agreed, rising from his place on the bed. “Ms. Rowling sprinkled her imaginary world with some rather splendid make believe creations that would appeal in a story about a young boy coming of age.” He walked across the room toward the door that would reveal their adjoining bath. “Chess pieces that move. Playing cards that explode. Sweets that give you hemorrhoids and leave you constipated.” Here he stopped, and raised a single finger to point at her dramatically. “But you’re forgetting one other very important thing that she wrote about.”
“What’s that, then?” Rose asked, coming to stand beside him.
He had reeled her in. Now for the big finish. He threw open the door with as much flourish as he could muster. “The giant bathtubs!”
The gasp Rose let out was extremely satisfying. “You’re kidding.”
“Oh no,” the Doctor grinned, already loosening his tie. “Last one in’s a rotten flubber worm.”
~ ~ ~
Rose was arching beneath him. Her feet hooked behind his bum, her legs squeezing him tight. Her hips moving with his, trying to match his rhythm, as he slid in and out. The Doctor was trying, desperately, to give her as much pleasure as she was giving him, but he wanted to be sure.
“Tell me how it feels,” he groaned.
Rose sucked on her top lip. Her eyes tightly closed. “Hmmm, good.”
“More,” he grunted. “Tell me more.”
She opened her eyes, probably surprised at the request.
Well, if they were going to go for the sex, they might as well talk dirty. If he could form a sentence he might let her know what she was doing to him, especially when she tightened her muscles, on each stroke. Just. Like. That.
“You’re stretching me wide open,” she finally panted. “I’m full, full of you.”
He lunged forward, again and again.
“You’re inside me,” she was gasping. “And you’re touching a place that I usually can’t even feel. That I’m usually barely even aware of.”
He ground against her hard.
“And every time you move, it, it sparks.” She sounded near breathless, but she kept going. “Pleasure. All through me. And it’s you.”
The Doctor was near helpless. “I’m going to come.”
“No,” Rose pleaded. “Please no. Please not yet.”
“Touch yourself,” he reasoned. He couldn’t. His hands were clasped in the sheets in a death grip, and he was holding on for dear life.
Rose shook her head from side to side. “No! Want it to be you. Just you.”
He appreciated the gesture, but this really didn’t seem like the time to be stubborn. He wished he could tell her.
And the Doctor learned what it felt like to beg for strength.
~ ~ ~
“Oh, you’re beautiful, darling.” The Doctor heard Jackie’s voice cooing from inside the vestibule. He wondered idly if she would ever forgive him for what he was about to do. Well, she should know by now what she was getting by way of a son-in-law.
The church was full. The day was perfect, not a rain cloud in sight. Even the Doctor had to admit that the flowers were rather lovely, if a bit pink. But he also knew what he had seen in the minister’s chambers and Jackie Tyler’s lifelong dream of a fairly tale wedding was about to be shattered, again. Good thing she still had Tony.
The Doctor sighed as he pushed against the heavy oak. He really had tried to get this day right.
“Oi!” Jackie exclaimed immediately upon seeing his head pop round the door. “You’re not supposed to be in here!”
“Right, sorry.” He ran his hands nervously through his hair, trying valiantly not to look directly at Rose, but failing entirely. She seemed to anticipate what was coming, if the way she was already hitching up her dress was any indication. “I’m always a bit rubbish at weddings,” he offered by way of apology. “It’s just… Well… I’m afraid… That is to say, RUN!”
Afterward, the Doctor almost felt sorry for the invading aliens. Well, he would say sorry, but the fact was they were quite aggressive about the whole taking over the world mandate. And they did somehow seem to seek him out in particular, and that was a bit alarming. At the same time, watching their leader be punched in the face by Jackie Tyler as she screamed, “This is my daughter’s wedding!” was a sight to induce at least a semblance of pity. They hadn’t even needed a “this planet is defended” speech before they turned tail and ran.
The satin pillow that had held their rings was charred almost beyond recognition. The Doctor had spied the smallest glimpse of pink and rescued it from the rubble. It had been intended that Tony would do the honours during the ceremony, but he was currently occupied being smothered in kisses by his mother.
When he found Rose, she was standing amid the debris. The bottom of her dress was ripped away, and her veil was still smoldering a little. The air was filled with drifting ash, and it surrounded her like a halo, dusting her hair. She was beautiful.
The Doctor approached her with his hands deep in his pockets. “For what it’s worth, your dress was stunning.”
“Thanks,” she replied, sticking her tongue between her teeth. She reached forward and fingered his bow tie. “Always liked you in a tux.”
“You shouldn’t,” he warned. “It’s cursed.” He sniffed and kicked at what appeared to be the remains of a video camera. “Do you suppose we should try again?”
“Are you mad?” Rose blurted. “The world might actually end. No, this,” she gestured at the chaos surrounding them. “This is our wedding day. Not sure I would’ve had it any other way.”
Grinning from ear to ear, the Doctor held out the smaller of their matching rings. Fortunately the bands had escaped direct flame, and had not lost their luster or shape. “So, Rose Tyler, for better or worse?”
She offered her hand. “Only if you kiss the bride. Immediately.”
~ ~ ~
Rose was lifting her hips off the bed as he pulled back from each thrust. Which was good. Because every shred of his control was completely lost.
“I’m so close,” she cried. “Doctor! Please!”
He was doing this to her. Causing her to throw her head back, and moan his name. Making her dig her fingernails into his back. His cock, plunging into her, was making her thrash about. To throw all dignity aside as she begged to him to fuck her harder. And if he kept thinking like this, he wasn’t going to make it.
“I’m gonna break! Break apart!”
Math. Physics. The precise orbit of the moon.
“Oh God!”
Temporal shifts and the consequences thereof.
“So close!”
The full code and all subsections of the Shadow Proclamation.
“More!”
The Gallifreyan alphabet.
“Yes!”
Rose’s body jerked and she spasmed around him. He felt the shudder move all through her as she held him impossibly tighter.
Thank all the stars! He let his mind go. Focused back on the pleasure washing over him and dragging him under. He desperately thrust once, twice more, and his orgasm overtook him. Pulling him over the edge into shattering bliss.
When sense returned, the Doctor realized the visions had stopped. And he was glad; he had seen enough to trust. He didn’t want to be sure of everything.
He was drifting, and Rose was murmuring words of love against his hair. He clung to her. He wouldn’t be letting go any time soon; the shivering had returned.
It had cost so much, this life. More than he would have allowed if he’d been given a choice. It had cost his best friend. And that’s not fair, that so not fair. Perhaps it was this selfish human heart, but he wanted to hope that maybe even if she knew, Donna would have wanted this for him.
In ways it was terrifying. Fragile. Fleeting. Confusing. But also, it turns out, quite brilliant.
For Donna, for Rose, for the him on the other side; if nothing else, he would bloody well live the hell out of this life for them. He still had so much left to learn.
Fin
Shameless self-pimping! This story has been nominated in Round Three at the Children of Time Awards. There are also many, numerous, oodles of other wonderful stories and authors there to discover/rediscover and celebrate. Please take the time to vote. If you're in the mood to do so now, follow the handy picture link below designed by the glorious mitashade. Voting closes on May 31st.