La Petite Mort (Chapter 3)

[sinecure]

Title: La Petite Mort (3/10)
Author: sinecure - My master fic list
Character/Pairing: Nine/Rose, Ten/Rose, Multi-Doctor/Rose (not all at once)
Rating: Adult, humor/angst/romance... did I mention the humor?
Summary: The Doctor never saw fit to warn Rose about things that could happen. And then they happened.
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who... duh.
Author's Notes: Thanks goes to momdaegmorgan for the beta. Later chapters will be angsty, but continue to take a grain of salt and then read this story.



(Eleventh Doctor)

The Doctor was underneath the console, examining wires he'd been meaning to replace for ages. The huge bundle was mostly intact, but every once in a while he came across a fraying wire that needed repaired or replaced. And right now was an excellent time to do this.

Not that he was avoiding Rose or anything, but... well, yes, he was.

She'd been eyeing him for the past few hours, and he wasn't quite sure why. However, he wasn't particularly fond of the speculative look gracing her features. So, he'd decided now was the perfect time to repair and replace fraying wires.

Footsteps sounded just out of sight of the console and he sighed.

So much for avoiding her.

Her bare feet didn't make much noise as she stopped beside him, but he heard her anyway, felt her, knew she was there. His body was hyper-aware of her, tuned in to her more than he'd ever been tuned into anyone that wasn't Gallifreyan. She didn't say anything as he tore a wire from its place under the console and examined it. He expected her to call his name, clear her throat, something, but she did nothing.

She just stood there waiting.

His eyes flickered over her legs, noting with disappointment that they were covered in denim.

After a minute with no sound other than the sonic screwdriver humming over the damaged wire, he sighed and set the wire down. He had no patience, this new him, none at all.

He climbed to his feet and brushed his jeans off, turning to face her, a strained smile forming on his lips. "Hello, Rose. How are you? Did you need something?"

Ignoring his sarcasm, she crossed her arms over her chest. "I've been thinking." He was sure it wasn't intentional, but the movement still brought his attention to the region. Unfortunately-- no, fortunately, it was as covered as her legs were.

And the fact that he had turned into a randy teenager somewhere along the line did not escape his notice.

"Ah," he said acerbically, trying to cover up his wandering eyes and thoughts. "A noble pursuit, thinking. You should keep that up, it's good for the brain."

She sighed and gave him an amused look. "That sense of humor just isn't getting any better, is it?" Without waiting for a reply, she unfolded her arms and held up a small square of silver between her fingers.

His eyes moved from the package she was holding up, to her face. A single eyebrow rose. "A condom." To say he was startled would be an understatement.

They could not have sex again. Ever. Not ever, ever, ever again. Despite how much he wanted to. God, how he wanted to. And she did as well, no matter how many times she told him she didn't fancy his new body.

She was a little liar.

"Gosh, Rose, and here I didn't get you anything." Sarcasm seemed to serve him well this incarnation. Or maybe it was just that he liked using it.

Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that the woman he wanted to shag to death was permanently out of bounds and yet was standing before him with a condom.

She grinned, biting her lip in that way she had of removing all higher thoughts from his mind. And sometimes the ones in the mid-region as well.

He took the package from her. "Thanks." Glancing quickly at the wrapper, he couldn't help the laugh that escaped. "Banana-flavored."

"Yep," she said, the way he used to when he wore pinstripes and trainers.

He slipped the condom into his back pocket. "Uh, quick question. Do you imagine me suddenly being in dire need of a condom in the future? On Likordya perhaps, our next destination?"

She chuckled and smirked at him. "Not on Likordya."

"Ah, so you're not sending me off to get shagged then?" Not that it would have been first time if she had. During one particularly memorable argument, she'd told him to go back to Versailles to shag Reinette, although she hadn't been as polite as all that.

They hadn't spoken for a good twenty-four hours after that conversation.

And right now, she was looking at him in annoyance. "Told you, I've been thinking. About those chemical levels? Well," she stopped and leaned against the console, trying to look casual and unconcerned, but he could see the hope and tension in her. "They go down after we have sex, yeah?"

"Yes," he agreed, setting the sonic screwdriver on top of the console. "They're at about twenty-seven percent right now, give or take. Dropping minutely--about point zero two percent--per month." He crossed his arms against his chest, leaning his own hip against the console. "Got a theory about that." Leaning toward her, he grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "What do you get up to at night, Miss Tyler? 'Cause, if it's anything like what I get up to..." he trailed off, smirking at her.

Rose opened her mouth, not really registering his words until a few seconds later. Then she smacked him. "Oi!"

His grin widened.

She rolled her eyes and scratched the back of her neck under her hair. "Anyway. There's no magic drug or medicine to block the chemicals, you've said, right? So, why not treat it like an STD? Suit up."

The Doctor blinked at her.

"Wear a condom." She straightened up, stuck one hand in her back pocket, and chewed on the thumbnail of her other hand.

Ah. He wished he could lie like his other self had, flat out lie to her and tell her it was safe. But he couldn't do that. He only had two lives left, and as much as the idea of death-by-shagging appealed to his baser self, he still had a brilliant brain that wasn't about to let that happen.

Not again anyway.

So, even though he hated to do it, he'd have to dash her hopes. "Rose, a condom isn't going to do the job. Ten condoms wouldn't do the job."

"Oh."

Eyeing her closely, he noticed for the first time the slight flush to her skin, the heat coming from her, and the brightness of her eyes. "Are you drunk?" he asked suspiciously.

She shook her head, dropping the hand from her mouth, holding her thumb and index finger a small ways apart. "No. I just had a small glass of your Rme-- Mar-- Medallion necktie." She grinned and straightened up. "You were right. It's gorgeous."

"Radelion nectar," he corrected with a chuckle. "And, yes, it is." Staring into Rose's flushed face with her lingering smile and dark brown eyes watching him closely, he wasn't sure whether he was talking about her or the nectar. "But, it's also dangerous." And again he wasn't sure which he was talking about. Shaking himself mentally, he stepped closer and took her hand, checking her pulse. "Too much of it, for a human, can cause... certain side effects."

She drew even closer, raising an eyebrow at him, pressing against him as much as she could with their hands between them. "Yeah?"

As fast as her pulse was racing, he knew the side effects had already hit her. She was turned on and it would only get worse.

"Bloody hell, Rose. I told you not to drink it!" At least, he thought he had. Maybe it'd slipped his mind... for three months.

"'S alright," she said softly. "Told you," she tapped her temple with her finger, "been thinking."

"Anything you think up under the influence of Radelion nectar is going to be rubbish or not doable. Might as well stop now because condoms won't help. The chemical isn't something that can be stopped by a piece of latex; it's all over the body. Every touch, every bead of sweat, every..." he took a deep breath, shoving all thoughts of a naked, sweat-slicked Rose out of his mind. "Every time we touch during the act, the chemical is released and it passes from one to the other, combining into a deadly--"

"Yeah, all right," she agreed, dismissing that as nothing. "But there are other things we can do. Right?" She pulled her hand free from his loose grip and slid it down between them, down the front of his jeans. "Without nakedness." She rubbed her hand over him, moving even closer, biting her lip and watching his face.

Smirking when he began to harden under her fingers.

As much as he wanted to say yes, he couldn't. It was too dangerous. "Rose, I don't think--"

"So don't," she told him, lips hovering over his.

But he couldn't not think. "It won't work, Rose."

She laughed and turned her head to whisper in his ear. "Seems to be working just fine to me."

He grabbed her hand and moved it away from him, then turned her so her back was against the console. Pressing his body up against her, pushing his erection--aching already--into her stomach, he made sure she felt just how much it was working. Then he stepped back once, twice, and closed his eyes briefly at the loss. Could a man die of want? "That won't lower the levels much more than if I did it myself."

Her lips curved up wickedly. "Be a lot more fun though."

She had him there. It would be more fun, loads more fun. The problem was, he didn't think he could keep his hands off her afterwards.

Nor would he be able to return the favor. And he wanted to, almost more than he wanted her hands on him.

She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest again. "Fine. What about not touching then? What if just one part of me touched just one part of you?"

His mind went to a nice happy place at that thought.

She closed the distance between them again, licking her lips as she looked down. "Every time we have sex, the levels go down. If my hand won't make enough of a difference, then... maybe other parts of me would make the levels go down a bit quicker than they would naturally."

Despite knowing it wasn't going to happen, despite thinking he was the biggest idiot in the universe for even asking, he did it anyway. "What did you have in mind?" he asked, his voice huskier than normal.

Rose's eyes darkened even more and, instead of answering, she dropped to her knees, her eyes still on him. Licking her lips again, she reached for his belt. "My mouth," she said in the sexiest voice he'd ever heard, "and your..." she paused in the process of unhooking his belt to grin impudently up at him. "Dangly bits."

He groaned aloud at the words, letting his eyes slide shut as he grew harder just thinking about it. Imagined being inside her warm mouth, her lips wrapped around him, her tongue doing wicked things that he wanted to do to her as well.

But he couldn't let her, no matter how much he wanted it. And, yes, he did want it. He wanted to scream it from the top of his lungs for all and sundry to hear, that he, the Doctor, wanted Rose Tyler's mouth wrapped around him.

Mouth, he thought suddenly. Just her mouth. And just his rapidly growing erection. With a condom. Minimal touching. Little to no contact with hands... as long as they were careful.

He glanced down at her, finding her watching him work it out. She'd moved her hands from his belt to rub against his straining erection, still encased in its denim cage.

Was it possible? Would it work?

His mind worked frantically, considering the situation, the levels currently in them, the lack of touching, the... oh.

Rose's hands slipped open his fly, her breath wafting over his stomach as she worked.

His attention flagged for a moment before working more feverishly. It might be possible, could just work, may be doable.

Her hands helped him decide. Fingers not touching him, she carefully lowered his jeans. Against his better judgment, and common sense, he grabbed the condom from his pocket and helped shove his jeans down, out of the way.

All thoughts of dying fled his mind as he tore open the package. All he could think about was her mouth surrounding him, her tongue sliding along his length, warm lips wrapping around him just as he'd been fantasizing about almost nightly.

He breathed in her smell, resisting the urge to reach out to touch her.

A small voice in the back of his mind was telling him this wasn't going to end well, but he shut it up and rolled the condom on.

Rose watched him work, licking her lips eagerly. And then those same lips, hot and wet, moved over his flesh.

He exhaled slowly.

Gripping the captain's chair behind him as she swirled her tongue--good god--his hips arched uncontrollably, fingers tightening as their eyes met.

His breath was leaving him in gasps, sounds he was used to hearing at night as he touched himself in bed with only his thoughts of Rose surrounding him.

But now, oh, now, with her mouth around him, he was convinced this wouldn't hurt him. That anything this wonderful couldn't be bad. Her mouth moved on him, lips pressing close and sliding along his length, fingers grasping his jeans, which were pooled around his feet. She flattened her tongue against the tip of him and he jerked forward.

He wanted to touch her, to taste her with this mouth. He still had a bit of an oral fixation in this body. He already knew from their previous times that she was salty and sweet and tangy and smooth.

Hand in his own hair instead of hers, he watched her and shuddered when she pleased him.

Hot mouth, cool flesh, wet tongue.

His hips jerked--once, twice--then stilled, and he was still hard. He hadn't come yet, but he was close. She released him with a wet pop and played her tongue along the top, circling around the head, watching him, seeing the strain it was taking on him. His fingers tightened in his hair. More, he was urging silently, his eyes on hers, darker than he'd ever seen them. Faster, more, lighter, harder, again and again.

Once more.

And then he came. Hips jerking.

Rose didn't draw back as he'd expected, but then again, she had no reason to, he remembered. He was wearing the bloody banana-flavored condom. His eyes fixed on hers and he felt such tenderness as she gazed up at him.

But he also felt something else. Something burning through him slowly, heating him from toes to hair, fingers and teeth. It was happening again. Knowing there was no harm now, he dropped to his knees and kissed her, reaching down to return the favor. She pulled back, gasping.

"No, you can't--" she started, but he cut her off with another kiss.

His hands fumbled at her jeans, desperately wanting to touch her intimately just once in this body before he was gone again. "Bloody-" he bit out, unable to tear them open fast enough. Once they were open, he slipped his hand down her knickers and sighed. A second later, he began moving his fingers, not bothering with sweet tender touches.

Rose gasped as the Doctor slipped his hand inside her jeans, touching her aching body with his nimble fingers. She didn't think they should push their luck, so she grabbed his hand and stilled it. "Doctor--" again, he cut her off.

"It doesn't matter now," he said, staring down at her with an unblinking gaze, his eyes telling her more than his words.

She shook her head and shoved herself away from him, scrabbling a few feet away, her fingers finding purchase in the small holes of the metal grating. She dropped to her bum, tears filling her eyes. "No. Not again."

Her pleas went unanswered, because he was starting to glow.

"Rose." He frowned, searching for something to say, but settled instead for removing the condom and tossing it into a compartment in the bottom of the console that she thought might be a rubbish bin. He started to his feet, tripping over denim before yanking his jeans up to his waist, leaving them unfastened. "Silver lining? The levels will drop again."

"That's not funny," she yelled, feeling her heart go still in her chest for a moment when he bent over in pain. "I wanna go home. As soon as you change, take me home."

"No!" he bit out, grinding his teeth and darting forward. "I'm not letting you leave me, Rose. I made the decision--"

"I forced the issue. I made you..." she trailed off and swiped at her tears, "made you," she finished with a sniff.

"No, you didn't," he retorted, pulling her to her feet. "I'm a nine-hundred-year-old Time Lord; I make my own decisions."

He was glowing brightly now, and she knew it wouldn't be long before he once again changed.

She hugged him, letting out a sob. The Doctor pulled back and wiped under her eyes with his thumbs, smiling at her.

"Stay with me," he whispered, leaning down to kiss her softly.

She nodded, not sure whether he meant now, during the change, or afterwards, for the forever she'd promised him when he wore pinstripes. "I love you."

"I know." He tossed her a wink.

She was a horrible person. Horrible. She treated men like rubbish, like they were no better than a used condom. Just look at how she'd treated Mickey.

She drew in a breath, letting it out in a shuddering sob. "I'm sorry, Doctor."

And then he was suffused with light. His arms tightened around her almost painfully, but she didn't let go. She watched his face change and saw his skin darken.

I'm influenced by those around me during regeneration.

For a brief moment those words from his first regeneration returned to her and she thought fate or the Doctor or her own mind was playing a cruel joke on her.

He looked like Mickey. Was he going to look like the man she'd just been thinking about? The man she'd first treated like a piece of rubbish?

She didn't think the Doctor would like that at all.

But then, she blinked and drew back a little to look at him better.

His skin darkened past Mickey's skin color, his hair shortened a bit and his nose got longer, thinner. She wouldn't be able to see him properly until he was finished and the light faded, but from what she could see, he was just as handsome as his previous incarnations.

Her fault. Would he sound like her again?

Seconds later, he sagged against her. Not expecting it, she dropped to the floor, holding on to him. She ran her hands down his back, holding him close, not wanting to let him go because then she'd have to face the changes. Face what she'd done, yet again, to the last Time Lord in the universe.

His hands stroked down her back in parallel of her own movements before he pulled away to look down at her.

His eyes were a beautiful shade of brown. Had she influenced his eye color these last three times?

God, three times she'd killed him!

He was taller again; even sitting, he was a few inches taller than his last body. She moved back, releasing her hold on him. His eyes searched hers, his own solemn and serious as he cupped her cheek and used his thumb to wipe a tear away.

And then he grinned, showing all his teeth. "I'm pretty again, aren't I? You just can't keep from making me pretty." His hands moved to his face, one hand feeling his lips. "Thinner. No, just the one." He pulled on his lower lip. "Yep, I think it's thinner." His other hand moved over his nose and brow. "Hmm. Stronger chin, smaller forehead, bigger ears. Though," he looked over at her and winked, "not like before, thank goodness." His eyes suddenly landed on his hands. "Ooh, look at that! I've never been black before."

His grin widened and he held up his hands for her to see.

He did sound like her. Well, not quite like her. More like her pinstripes and Chucks Doctor.

He looked over his arms, inspecting them, ran his tongue over his teeth, and then raised his hands to feel his hair.

Rose chuckled at his enthusiasm. Even in the direst situations possible he still found boundless energy and enthusiasm to inspire those around him. Or annoy rulers into ordering his death. It was really an either/or thing with the Doctor.

At the thought of death, she remembered why he now looked like this. She pulled away and climbed to her feet trying to think of the best way to get him to take her home. She could lie and just ask to see her mum, then sneak out and refuse to get back into the TARDIS.

Mickey and her mum would back her up. Mickey, on better terms with the last doctor he'd seen--the pinstripes one--would take her side, no question. And, of course her mum would tell her to stay. Get a job. Live a normal life.

She'd probably even offer to slap the Doctor if Rose thought that'd help.

The Doctor got to his feet, too preoccupied with looking over his new body to notice her straying thoughts. She looked at him absently, noting that his body was more muscular, not as stocky as before, nor as wiry as before that. He had less hair, more like her first Doctor. And he was just as handsome as all of the others she'd met and killed.

"Take me home," she whispered, not sure if she wanted him to hear or not.

He did hear. His head snapped around, his eyes searching hers, disappointment and maybe a little bit of panic warring in them. "No. No, you said you'd stay. You can't leave."

"I can't stay," she retorted, backing away when he moved forward to take her hand. "I'm too dangerous to be around you now. Should've left a long time ago. You'd still have extra bodies left over if I had, not be on your next to last one."

He considered that with a twist of his lips. "Yeah, but..." his eyes fixed over her shoulder, widening a bit. "Rose, come here."

She shook her head and stepped back further. "No. Take me ho--"

Bright white light swirled behind her, around her, encasing her in it. She felt warmth and a tugging feeling in her stomach. Her hand, near the captain's chair, reached out, grabbing for the battered white vinyl, but hit air instead.

"Rose!" The Doctor darted forward, touching just the tips of her fingers as she was drawn backwards, out of the ship.

Rose felt the tugging increase, heard the Doctor's yells echoing through her head and then everything went black.

Chapter 4- Rose ex Machina.