Crimson (1/1)
Title: Crimson
Author: Jessa L'Rynnjessalrynn
Characters: Ten/Rose
Rating: M
Warnings: Explicit Sex
Summary: There was a moment when they could have stopped, when Rose's bright red dress was simply pretty, when the Doctor's black on black swashbuckler costume was merely appealing. That, however, was long before they'd left the party, and more to the point, before Rose had been carried out of the party kicking and screaming.
Crimson
There was a moment when they could have stopped, when Rose's bright red dress was simply pretty, when the Doctor's black on black swashbuckler costume was merely appealing. That, however, was long before they'd left the party, and more to the point, before Rose had been carried out of the party kicking and screaming. It was definitely before the Doctor had exploded at the Prince of Fygraf, demanding the man return the Time Lord's lover before terrible things happened.
It was certainly before the Doctor had stolen the Prince's favorite charger, ridden like a madman, and rescued a fighting, furious Rose from the Prince's mother's coach by impersonating a deadly highwayman. And it was absolutely before they'd fled on the stolen horse into the night, clinging together and practically singing in their relief.
"Stupid idea, really," the Doctor mumbled as he carried a shaking Rose into the TARDIS. "Who thought up going to a masquerade party, again?"
"You did," Rose mumbled into his neck.
"Thought it might've been me," he agreed. "I sometimes do things that seem ridiculous at the time, but turn out for the best. Stands to reason that I'd eventually come up with something that seemed like a really good idea but turned out to be a complete disaster instead. Well, I say a complete disaster, but obviously this wasn't a complete disaster, because at least this time, you're going to let me keep the horse, right?"
"He's wandered off," Rose murmured.
"Well, isn't that just bloody typical?" the Doctor demanded indignantly. "Honestly, I find a new passenger, they wander off, and...you know, I've always sort of wondered what it is with you and horses anyway. I mean, girls are meant to like horses, aren't they? Most girl... oh."
She'd just found the doubled pulse point on his neck and nuzzled it. It was such a small thing, really, but it set his blood on fire this time. He set the lock on the TARDIS console with one hand. The other gripped Rose tighter, shifting her against him to allow her more room to peruse her finding. When she licked he still had a modicum of control left to him, but when she nipped lightly and then began to suck at the spot, the Doctor's restraint fled the scene completely.
They'd not even reached their room yet, but he shoved open the nearest door which today decided to lead to a largely inexplicable foyer of some sort. Her heavily layered period gown and even his pitch black costume looked like they'd been made for the time the room had escaped from, so the Doctor spared a periphery of his attention to deciding the TARDIS thought they wanted that frame.
Most of his attention, however, was taken with setting Rose on an ornate leaning couch, the black upholstery contrasting beautifully with the rich crimson velvet of her dress. She gazed up at him, a bright challenge in her eyes, not saying anything, just daring him to give in to the very primal core of what he felt for her.
He couldn't resist taking that challenge, needed to meet it immediately with a kiss first tender, then raw. His lips traced hers lightly with delicate, sipping touches, and when she responded with a sweet, soft moan, he dove in to devour her, lips wide and molded together so that hot, sensitive tongues could explore. He gasped and found himself breathless, diving into her and happily drowning.
Rose touched him like she was feeling the same, one hand tangling in the back of his hair, and one hand slipping under the dark linen of his shirt. She kissed him with hungry urgency, and when he broke the kiss at last, she followed him to try to steal his lips back to hers. The Doctor pushed her down with a palm against her chest, wanting to take a moment to just admire her, all flushed pink with her arousal. He leaned back to admire the view, and Rose gave him a radiant, sparkling smile as her eyes travelled the length of his body.
It was then that he noticed the corset. Rose seemed to like them for some reason, or at least the recreated ones the TARDIS had in just her size. The Doctor liked this one, and his fingers immediately began fumbling with the laces of her bodice.
Rose brought her hands around to fumble with his laces as well, the ones closing his breeches. The Doctor gave a startled gasp when she first made contact with his penis through his clothes (his mind had been on other things). He pushed into her hand, reveling in the sensation, his blood starting to heat to a full boil. Rose kept one hand on the laces, but the other cupped and stroked and teased at him.
The Doctor gave an angry yelp of frustration at her gown and finally just slipped his hand inside the dress, finding her breast and tormenting the nipple, his mind intent on the memory of that pretty dusky peak. "Like that," Rose murmured encouragingly, and the Doctor bent his head to kiss her.
Throughout the kiss, Rose eased herself up, the Doctor moving back slowly until she was sitting next to him, and he was feeling decidedly like he was about to fall. Startling away, he broke the kiss, and stabilized himself to be sitting on the edge of the couch, with Rose kneeling next to him. He shifted, putting his hands on Rose's hips.
She grinned wickedly, and the Doctor grinned back. Rose's hands went to her own laces, and she opened the bodice, but left the corset. The Doctor undid the top two clips, then slipped his hands inside and lifted her breasts where he could look at them.
"This one is my favorite," he said, and let his tongue take a long, wet, thorough journey over the begging little peak.
"That one?" Rose asked, fingers twining in the back of his hair.
"Maybe this one," the Doctor admitted and repeated his perusal with the twin.
Rose groaned. "Oh, god," she murmured, and arched her back towards him.
After a second or so, those wandering little hands of hers went back to work on his breeches. The Doctor let his head loll into Rose's cleavage when she finally touched bare skin. He went back to his worship of her perky nipples, but his attention was divided, both by her soft murmurs of approval and by the wonderful things she was doing in his trousers.
"I'm never going to be able to get you naked in all this," he whined, as it suddenly occurred to him exactly how many layers of dress there had to be to blunt his sense of smell, which this dress was definitely doing.
Rose met his eyes. "So don't," she said, and that wicked gleam from earlier had not dimmed in the slightest. In fact, it was now a definite twinkle.
She stood up and the Doctor pouted, until she reached over and adjusted the front of his trousers. "God, you're gorgeous like this," she said.
The Doctor gave her a winning grin and was about to tell her he was always gorgeous, when Rose suddenly leaned over and gave a quick, thorough lick across the head of his cock. He gasped and arched toward her and completely lost his train of thought. "Rose, I need..."
"Me too," she assured him fervently.
With a rustle of an awful lot of fabric, Rose climbed up onto the couch, shifting above him. The Doctor lay back, his lip caught in his teeth, breathless with anticipation.
She shifted slowly, too slowly, and then he felt the wet heat of her ready center brushing across his aching cock. His hands flew to her hips, to steady her, to help her, as she slowly, slowly slow slow slowy impaled herself. He was gasping with the effort of holding himself still by the time she'd gotten settled. Her name came out on a harsh, deep groan, and she gave him that dark, sultry laugh he liked to think no other man had ever heard.
She moved herself over him with the same kind of speed she'd first coupled them, but the Doctor could tell from her trembling touch, from the fluttering of her internal muscles along his cock that this wasn't remotely easy for her to do. She was torturing both of them, he knew it, and he met her eyes to tell her so.
Rose had her bottom lip trapped between her teeth in her concentration, and one hand on her breast. The Doctor untangled his hands from her hips - there was a large pile of fabric gathered there - and put them on her breasts instead, thumbing the nipples into tight peaks again. Rose gasped and jerked toward him, and it was what he'd been waiting for. He met her thrust with arching hips, and dropped one hand to the small of her back to guide her.
Rose couldn't resist the new rhythm, kept the wild, headlong pace that the Doctor knew they both needed. He met her with every thrust, whispering how good it felt. Her answers were pleas and cries that grew ever louder, and faster movements.
She was so beautiful above him, riding his cock, taking her pleasure in taking him, making him hers again as he had probably always been. He wanted this to never end, thrusting in and out of her tight wetness, buried in her heat, teetering on the edge of pleasure that could boggle even his mind.
The Doctor knew when he was about to make Rose come by the frantic way she moved, by the little grinding motion she made at the bottom of each thrust, scraping her engorged little clit against his pelvis. He clenched his hands on her hips again to encourage her, loving being buried inside her, wanting to feel her tightness ever tighter.
She came with a sob that sounded like his name, clenching and clenching around him, and he went with her this time, gasping out dirty praise. He kept moving within her while she rocked against him, shaking and gasping through after shocks that racked her body and tightened her sex around him again.
It was only when they finally stopped, when the Doctor laid back on the couch and pulled Rose down with him, that he realized what they'd just done. He grinned and kissed her sweaty forehead. "That was brilliant, Rose Tyler," he proclaimed, "absolutely brilliant."
"'Course it was," Rose agreed. "I'm brilliant, said so yourself an' all, right?" She nuzzled his chest and, in a muzzy, fuzzy, slightly sleepy tone, continued, "What's brilliant?"
The Doctor chuckled and hugged her tight, and helped her shift to lay beside him. "I just realized that the dangerous highwayman ravishing the stolen damsel wasn't my thing, really."
"Nor mine," Rose agreed, and nodded.
"But if the damsel wants to ravish me..." he suggested, wriggling his eyebrows at her.
Rose laughed and rolled her eyes at the same time. "Only, and I mean only, if that screwdriver of yours can get me out of this corset."
Author: Jessa L'Rynnjessalrynn
Characters: Ten/Rose
Rating: M
Warnings: Explicit Sex
Summary: There was a moment when they could have stopped, when Rose's bright red dress was simply pretty, when the Doctor's black on black swashbuckler costume was merely appealing. That, however, was long before they'd left the party, and more to the point, before Rose had been carried out of the party kicking and screaming.
Crimson
There was a moment when they could have stopped, when Rose's bright red dress was simply pretty, when the Doctor's black on black swashbuckler costume was merely appealing. That, however, was long before they'd left the party, and more to the point, before Rose had been carried out of the party kicking and screaming. It was definitely before the Doctor had exploded at the Prince of Fygraf, demanding the man return the Time Lord's lover before terrible things happened.
It was certainly before the Doctor had stolen the Prince's favorite charger, ridden like a madman, and rescued a fighting, furious Rose from the Prince's mother's coach by impersonating a deadly highwayman. And it was absolutely before they'd fled on the stolen horse into the night, clinging together and practically singing in their relief.
"Stupid idea, really," the Doctor mumbled as he carried a shaking Rose into the TARDIS. "Who thought up going to a masquerade party, again?"
"You did," Rose mumbled into his neck.
"Thought it might've been me," he agreed. "I sometimes do things that seem ridiculous at the time, but turn out for the best. Stands to reason that I'd eventually come up with something that seemed like a really good idea but turned out to be a complete disaster instead. Well, I say a complete disaster, but obviously this wasn't a complete disaster, because at least this time, you're going to let me keep the horse, right?"
"He's wandered off," Rose murmured.
"Well, isn't that just bloody typical?" the Doctor demanded indignantly. "Honestly, I find a new passenger, they wander off, and...you know, I've always sort of wondered what it is with you and horses anyway. I mean, girls are meant to like horses, aren't they? Most girl... oh."
She'd just found the doubled pulse point on his neck and nuzzled it. It was such a small thing, really, but it set his blood on fire this time. He set the lock on the TARDIS console with one hand. The other gripped Rose tighter, shifting her against him to allow her more room to peruse her finding. When she licked he still had a modicum of control left to him, but when she nipped lightly and then began to suck at the spot, the Doctor's restraint fled the scene completely.
They'd not even reached their room yet, but he shoved open the nearest door which today decided to lead to a largely inexplicable foyer of some sort. Her heavily layered period gown and even his pitch black costume looked like they'd been made for the time the room had escaped from, so the Doctor spared a periphery of his attention to deciding the TARDIS thought they wanted that frame.
Most of his attention, however, was taken with setting Rose on an ornate leaning couch, the black upholstery contrasting beautifully with the rich crimson velvet of her dress. She gazed up at him, a bright challenge in her eyes, not saying anything, just daring him to give in to the very primal core of what he felt for her.
He couldn't resist taking that challenge, needed to meet it immediately with a kiss first tender, then raw. His lips traced hers lightly with delicate, sipping touches, and when she responded with a sweet, soft moan, he dove in to devour her, lips wide and molded together so that hot, sensitive tongues could explore. He gasped and found himself breathless, diving into her and happily drowning.
Rose touched him like she was feeling the same, one hand tangling in the back of his hair, and one hand slipping under the dark linen of his shirt. She kissed him with hungry urgency, and when he broke the kiss at last, she followed him to try to steal his lips back to hers. The Doctor pushed her down with a palm against her chest, wanting to take a moment to just admire her, all flushed pink with her arousal. He leaned back to admire the view, and Rose gave him a radiant, sparkling smile as her eyes travelled the length of his body.
It was then that he noticed the corset. Rose seemed to like them for some reason, or at least the recreated ones the TARDIS had in just her size. The Doctor liked this one, and his fingers immediately began fumbling with the laces of her bodice.
Rose brought her hands around to fumble with his laces as well, the ones closing his breeches. The Doctor gave a startled gasp when she first made contact with his penis through his clothes (his mind had been on other things). He pushed into her hand, reveling in the sensation, his blood starting to heat to a full boil. Rose kept one hand on the laces, but the other cupped and stroked and teased at him.
The Doctor gave an angry yelp of frustration at her gown and finally just slipped his hand inside the dress, finding her breast and tormenting the nipple, his mind intent on the memory of that pretty dusky peak. "Like that," Rose murmured encouragingly, and the Doctor bent his head to kiss her.
Throughout the kiss, Rose eased herself up, the Doctor moving back slowly until she was sitting next to him, and he was feeling decidedly like he was about to fall. Startling away, he broke the kiss, and stabilized himself to be sitting on the edge of the couch, with Rose kneeling next to him. He shifted, putting his hands on Rose's hips.
She grinned wickedly, and the Doctor grinned back. Rose's hands went to her own laces, and she opened the bodice, but left the corset. The Doctor undid the top two clips, then slipped his hands inside and lifted her breasts where he could look at them.
"This one is my favorite," he said, and let his tongue take a long, wet, thorough journey over the begging little peak.
"That one?" Rose asked, fingers twining in the back of his hair.
"Maybe this one," the Doctor admitted and repeated his perusal with the twin.
Rose groaned. "Oh, god," she murmured, and arched her back towards him.
After a second or so, those wandering little hands of hers went back to work on his breeches. The Doctor let his head loll into Rose's cleavage when she finally touched bare skin. He went back to his worship of her perky nipples, but his attention was divided, both by her soft murmurs of approval and by the wonderful things she was doing in his trousers.
"I'm never going to be able to get you naked in all this," he whined, as it suddenly occurred to him exactly how many layers of dress there had to be to blunt his sense of smell, which this dress was definitely doing.
Rose met his eyes. "So don't," she said, and that wicked gleam from earlier had not dimmed in the slightest. In fact, it was now a definite twinkle.
She stood up and the Doctor pouted, until she reached over and adjusted the front of his trousers. "God, you're gorgeous like this," she said.
The Doctor gave her a winning grin and was about to tell her he was always gorgeous, when Rose suddenly leaned over and gave a quick, thorough lick across the head of his cock. He gasped and arched toward her and completely lost his train of thought. "Rose, I need..."
"Me too," she assured him fervently.
With a rustle of an awful lot of fabric, Rose climbed up onto the couch, shifting above him. The Doctor lay back, his lip caught in his teeth, breathless with anticipation.
She shifted slowly, too slowly, and then he felt the wet heat of her ready center brushing across his aching cock. His hands flew to her hips, to steady her, to help her, as she slowly, slowly slow slow slowy impaled herself. He was gasping with the effort of holding himself still by the time she'd gotten settled. Her name came out on a harsh, deep groan, and she gave him that dark, sultry laugh he liked to think no other man had ever heard.
She moved herself over him with the same kind of speed she'd first coupled them, but the Doctor could tell from her trembling touch, from the fluttering of her internal muscles along his cock that this wasn't remotely easy for her to do. She was torturing both of them, he knew it, and he met her eyes to tell her so.
Rose had her bottom lip trapped between her teeth in her concentration, and one hand on her breast. The Doctor untangled his hands from her hips - there was a large pile of fabric gathered there - and put them on her breasts instead, thumbing the nipples into tight peaks again. Rose gasped and jerked toward him, and it was what he'd been waiting for. He met her thrust with arching hips, and dropped one hand to the small of her back to guide her.
Rose couldn't resist the new rhythm, kept the wild, headlong pace that the Doctor knew they both needed. He met her with every thrust, whispering how good it felt. Her answers were pleas and cries that grew ever louder, and faster movements.
She was so beautiful above him, riding his cock, taking her pleasure in taking him, making him hers again as he had probably always been. He wanted this to never end, thrusting in and out of her tight wetness, buried in her heat, teetering on the edge of pleasure that could boggle even his mind.
The Doctor knew when he was about to make Rose come by the frantic way she moved, by the little grinding motion she made at the bottom of each thrust, scraping her engorged little clit against his pelvis. He clenched his hands on her hips again to encourage her, loving being buried inside her, wanting to feel her tightness ever tighter.
She came with a sob that sounded like his name, clenching and clenching around him, and he went with her this time, gasping out dirty praise. He kept moving within her while she rocked against him, shaking and gasping through after shocks that racked her body and tightened her sex around him again.
It was only when they finally stopped, when the Doctor laid back on the couch and pulled Rose down with him, that he realized what they'd just done. He grinned and kissed her sweaty forehead. "That was brilliant, Rose Tyler," he proclaimed, "absolutely brilliant."
"'Course it was," Rose agreed. "I'm brilliant, said so yourself an' all, right?" She nuzzled his chest and, in a muzzy, fuzzy, slightly sleepy tone, continued, "What's brilliant?"
The Doctor chuckled and hugged her tight, and helped her shift to lay beside him. "I just realized that the dangerous highwayman ravishing the stolen damsel wasn't my thing, really."
"Nor mine," Rose agreed, and nodded.
"But if the damsel wants to ravish me..." he suggested, wriggling his eyebrows at her.
Rose laughed and rolled her eyes at the same time. "Only, and I mean only, if that screwdriver of yours can get me out of this corset."