Especial Friends Commentary

[the_tenzo]

This commentary was requested by ladychi . Would you like to request a commentary of your own? You can do so right here.

I feel no small amount of trepidation writing this commentary because of... some stuff that happened elsewhere on the internets with me and wank and femslash. I kept this fic f-locked and off Teaspoon for a long time. Not because I think there's anything wrong with it-I like it-but because slash is something that tends to bring with it a lot of... psychoanalysing of the author based on how the characters and the situation are represented, and I sort of got tired of that because of the elsewhere!wank. I didn't want something as personal to me as my writing to get brought into that as well.

Anyway, I wrote this because I had a hard time finding adult-rated femslash that I liked. Doesn't mean there's not great adult-rated femslash out there in the fandom, just not very much that I found really enjoyable personally. For any non-canon relationship (het or slash), I find I need some sort of explanation for why it's happening in the fic. I know not everyone needs or wants that, but I do. So, I thought I'd toss my hat into the ring with the non-canon f/f relationship that I thought would work best for the type of fic I wanted to write: Rose/Reinette. Which I know on the surface sounds bizarre, but I've always been quite partial to the concept.

I just wanted to write something sexy and fun that passed my own personal "plausibility test."

“That must be so uncomfortable.”

Rose stood several paces behind Reinette in a rather fancy-looking room of the TARDIS that the Doctor had magicked up from what had been a supply closet. Reinette’s laugh was throaty and surprisingly mannish for someone whom Rose saw as such a paragon of femininity.

“The best thing for one’s health is a nice tight corset, my dear,” Reinette said cheerfully, turning around and taking up the wine glass that she’d previously set aside. “Very good for the posture.”

Oh hai everyone, I like corsets. I don't wear them myself hardly ever but that's primarily because they don't fit my personal preferred clothing style and they are expensive and I am poor. But I find them very, very sexy. Very. To wear, I mean.

Rose took a sip from her own glass, slurping a little, as the Doctor had taught her to do in order appreciate the subtle flavours. Who was she kidding though, she was already far too tipsy to register anything beyond “grapey.”

“Still though,” Rose continued, “not very practical.”

Reinette sat primly on the bench of a fine cherry-wood vanity. “Depends on what you’re trying to do, doesn’t it?”

“I can’t imagine anything that would be easier in a get-up like that!”

“There's nothing you'd like to do that might be easier in a frock like this?” Reinette’s eyes flitted briefly towards the door, which was partially ajar.

Rose dipped her head quickly down in to her glass and tried very hard to not also look. "I don't know what you mean," she mumbled.

Soooo we all know what Reinette means here, right? And here is like feature #1 of this fic that may upset some femslash fans: both women are clearly in love with the Doctor and their messing around here is in addition to that, not supplanting it. Their encounter isn't about the Doctor at all-it's about the two women and their relationship with one another-but it doesn't make either of them any less interested in the alpha-male on board the TARDIS.

"I think you do." Reinette stood and glided across the room towards Rose. "I'm curious though... What's it like to wear trousers, like a man?"

"I dunno, feels all right I guess. Comfortable. I never liked wearing skirts much, really."

"I mean, how does it feel, down here?" Reinette reached down and stroked the top of Rose's thigh, while looking in to her eyes quite sincerely. "To have all that fabric rubbing between your legs..."

"Is this the kind of thing you talk about where you come from?" Rose asked incredulously, moving a half-step away. "I mean, no offence, but isn't that sort of a personal question?"

"There's no need to keep secrets, is there? It's nothing I wouldn't discuss with any other of my dear friends. May I consider you a dear friend, Rose Tyler?"

"I guess," Rose said warily, taking another long gulp of her wine. "It's not something you normally talk about with your friends where I'm from."

Reinette furrowed her brow and seemed to be trying to work out if Rose was telling the truth or not. "How very interesting," she said finally. "Yet, you dress so immodestly, are so casual with your dealings with the opposite sex... I shall have to ask the Doctor to take me to your time. I can't bear not understanding something."

We live in a strange culture, don't we? I think Reinette's right to be interested. Our relationship with sex and sexuality is utterly bizarre.

"It's really not that interesting."

"Nonsense, I'm sure it's fascinating. But I think I would like to try on clothes like yours--right now. It'll be like practise for when we go. I'd hate to make some horrible mistake and have everyone mock me behind my back."

LOL "Oh noes I have spilled red wine upon my white shirt. I will have to take it off and wash it now. I am not in any way trying to seduce you." In most of my PWPs, there's always a moment where the funky porn music starts playing. This is it.

Rose came back from her precipice of awkward embarrassment and felt free to smile warmly at the other woman. "I'm sure you'll do fine."

***

"You're not wearing any knickers," Rose said thickly, trying not to watch Reinette too carefully as she undressed, but suddenly realising that she'd betrayed the fact that she was certainly looking.

"I'm not a whore, Rose."

Rose couldn't keep from laughing, despite how tightly she pursed her lips, and it came out in one big "Ha!"

"Is that funny?" Reienette now stood in her shift and stockings, each tied with a baby blue silk ribbon.

"Well, yeah." Rose kept her eyes on the incredible pile of Reinette's discarded garments, heaped on her bed. "I think it's a bit the other way around where I'm from."

No offense to anyone who doesn't wear knickers (I don't always). But I did do a small amount of research on relevant costuming history in order to write this and my research seemed to indicate that underpants for women were seen as whorish. I'm a big hippie, so my reaction to someone not wearing underpants is a shrug, but I think Rose's reaction would be different.

Reinette burst out with her own inappropriate laughter this time, her cheeks pink with drink and mirth. Rose ventured another good look, keeping her eyes half-lidded just in case she was caught out. Reinette was still the same picture of poise and easy beauty that she was when dressed, she still seemed impossibly sophisticated to Rose. She'd never felt so strong a desire to be someone else in her life. A woman capable of captivating the Doctor almost on contact-what would it like to be her? To be so posh and so daring, yet so delicate and easy to love?

And here we reach girlcrush central. This is why I find Rose/Reinette so plausible and so easy to write a believable justification for. They seem to get on just fine in the brief canon scenes of them together, and I think if Reinette had joined Team TARDIS, there'd have been a lot less with the cat-fighting (as perhaps many people assume) and a lot more with... well maybe not the sex, but the crushing on Rose's part. It's part of being a girl, I think: the girlcrush. It's not about being homosexual or bisexual or heterosexual, it's just this thing that girls do. So perhaps this is thing #2 that might be off-putting to some readers: the sort of crush that Rose has on Reinette is in some part due to her wanting to be Reinette, because Reinette has captured the interest of the Doctor.

"That would be a lovely colour on you," Reinette remarked, pulling the ribbons that held her stockings up, one at a time.

Rose fingered the heavy dark blue silk of Reinette's shed gown. "You think so?"

"I think I'd like to see it on you," she said as she drew her shift up over her head. Rose took another brief opportunity to take a good long look. She was able to gather the impression of firm breasts with very light pink nipples, which led the eye inevitably down to a figure shaped by years of corsetry--curved, and erupting over fine, round hips. She caught the faintest glimpse of a shadowy bit of hair between her legs before looking away again.

"You want me to wear all that?"

"I'll try on your clothing, and you'll try on mine!" Reinette clapped her hands like a child, and smiled broadly. Her enthusiasm was infectious, but Rose also got the impression that Reinette had many, many different ways of getting what she wanted, and that this was merely one of them.

Some have remarked that my Reinette is more interesting than canon!Reinette. I don't know about all that. I think canon!Reinette is pretty neat, what little we actually see of her. And it should be noted that canon!Reinette and historical!Madame de Pompedour are pretty far removed from one another. And I'm not going for historical characterisation here. I wrote this pretty quickly and I didn't feel like spending three weeks reading biographies before writing it. But I think any woman who wound up in her position at that time would have had to have been extremely intelligent, and extremely adept at manipulating people. Not in a bad way necessarily. Just knowing at a gut level what behaviour from you will lead to other people aquiescing to your wishes more easily.

Reinette handed Rose various underpinnings one by one, though she remained brazenly naked herself throughout the process. It was the corset that secretly thrilled Rose the most, and when she touched it for the first time, she shuddered with anticipation. As a modern woman, it wouldn't do for Rose to actually admit that she'd often wondered what such a garment would feel like, but the chance to find out now sent a thrill straight to the pit of her stomach, and lower.

"Take a deep breath in," Reinette coached, and Rose was jerked backwards as the laces were pulled. There was pain, or would have been if Rose hadn't already been half in the can, but there was also this glorious rhythm of the laces being tightened by Reinette. It put Rose in mind of being fucked: tug, release, tug, release, tug...

Yeah, I'm a little in love with the above comparison. Writing porn as personal wish-fulfillment, who woulda thunk it! But yeah, that's hot.

Rose was sorry, momentarily, when Reinette declared her stays fully in place and turned her around for a frontal inspection. Sorry, that was, until a soft, delicate hand was shoved right down the side of Rose's top.

"Oh!" Rose exclaimed at the invasion, though she hoped it didn't come out as sounding like a protest. Reinette simply went about her business, running a sure hand along the side of Rose's breast, pulling up and to the centre. She then did the same on the other side, and told Rose to stand up straight.

"Much better," Reinette mused, staring appraising and unabashedly at Rose's cleavage.

Rose glanced down as well and was completely shocked at the absolute shelf she saw there now. "Look at my tits!"

*Snort* Would Rose say "tits"? I dunno, but I find it amusing. And that's always my reaction when I wear something that rearranges my boobs. Rose doesn't have an overly large rack, and nor do I, so it's always a bit shocking when you look down and there's, like, epic cleavage suddenly.

"Not bad," Reinette nodded, and reached out to smooth her hand across Rose's stomach. The sensation was like nothing Rose had ever felt. There were three layers between Reinette's hand and Rose's skin, but it felt like every nerve-ending was straining, reaching out for sensation, heightening each stroke of Reinette's fingers. "How does it feel?" Reinette asked casually.

Show of hands, does everyone else enjoy being touched through tight clothing? The touch does take on this other quality, doesn't it? It's intimate because your clothing is so tight across your body, but at the same time there's a barrier.

"It, um..." Rose stammered. "It's all right." And by 'all right' she meant the most erotic thing she'd ever experienced.

Reinette marched over to the bed again and picked up the one contraption that Rose really, honestly had wanted to avoid.

"Are you sure I have to wear that?"

"Of course," Reinette said, moving behind Rose and reaching around her waist with a strap and a buckle. "The frock won't fit properly without the paniers."

For those playing the home game, paniers:




Rose felt Reinette's breasts up against her back, could even feel that her nipples were hard. As with the corset, this feeling of being strapped in, tied down--it was intoxicating. Rose began to feel unsteady on her feet and reached out blindly for something to grab hold of.

"Take shallow breaths, my dear," Reinette said, catching Rose's arm as she listed to the side. She turned Rose about and Rose felt like a china doll waiting to be posed-and it wasn't a bad feeling at all. When Reinette approached with the gowns, Rose felt happier and more relaxed than she had in weeks-months even. There was nothing to do but be made pretty, nothing to worry about but raising her arms this way and that, being pinned and lifted, prodded and pulled by this woman who commanded so easily despite her stark nudity.

As a modern woman I know I'm not supposed to admit this, but this notion of being dressed up and posed and just sitting around and looking pretty is really alluring to me. Now, on an intellectual I know that it wasn't like that back then, and it would have been horrid, and everything that I cherish about my life now as a woman is the complete diametrical opposite to that, but... I think it might be relaxing in the same way that the CEO going to the dungeon and getting ordered around by the domme is relaxing for him or her. And I wrote this scene with that parallel in mind. Both situations are of course tinged heavily with the erotic, but there's also an element of just in general leaving your every-day self behind and how liberating that could be.

When Rose was put together entirely, Reinette stood back to admire her handiwork. Rose folded her hands demurely in front of her and simply waited to be appraised. All nervousness was gone, perhaps to the wine or perhaps to the freeing complacency of being so confined and constricted.

"Just as I thought," Reinette said, smiling warmly (with teeth, Rose noted, for the first time that she'd ever seen). "The colour blue is so fetching on you, I would want you to wear it always. Look here." She led Rose to the mirror and stood her before it, holding Rose's hair up in to a little bun before taking a pin from her own coiffure and inserting it loosely.

Rose didn't know what to say, and just stood blinking. It felt like an out of body experience, like she was looking out of two eyes that were in the face of another woman. She wondered what the Doctor would think, seeing her dressed like this. Would it make any difference to him? Would he see her as something new and sophisticated, or would he recognise the shopgirl underneath? Of course, Mickey would just laugh and call her Posh Spice (as he'd taken to calling Reinette, to her complete bafflement).

Point #3 in which men and the male gaze is mentioned or alluded to. I keep pointing these things out because I don't want anyone getting the impression that I'm not aware that they're there. It's part of my set-up for the encounter that Rose is ultimately interested in the Doctor, but extends that interest to Reinette as well, because the Doctor is interested in her, in turn. And she's also still trying to figure out what Reinette has that she doesn't.

Rose snapped to attention, seeing Reinette out of the corner of her eye looking through her chest of drawers. "Help yourself," she said dreamily. "Just... please wear some knickers."

"I think I shall like knickers very much," Reinette said, already rooting through drawers and clattering through a series of hangers.

Rose felt sad when Reinette began to put clothes on again. To cover that beauty up in such plain, ugly, nondescript clothes, it seemed criminal. A woman like that deserved to display herself as richly as she pleased. She thought perhaps that Reinette would never have a need for what they referred to at Henrick's as "activewear." Her activity was of a much more rarefied variety-the life of the mind, of loving, of beautiful things set just-so.

More of my commentary on modern aesthetics that totally contradicts my own clothing preferences. I'm a jeans-and-t-shirts sort of girl, all the way. I don't even wear bras. I don't shave my legs, I don't wear make-up. I can't be arsed to do any of that sort of thing. But I do sometimes sort of wonder what, if anything, I've lost or missed out on because of my insistence on my absolute physical comfort at all times. (And high heels? Bitch, please. Not a chance.)

"Well!" Reinette exclaimed once fully dressed. "I feel so... I believe I do feel like a man! A man must feel this way, no?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, wearing trousers like this," she walked a few paces around the room, "no wonder men want to fuck all the time!"

Rose almost swallowed more air than her stays would allow. "Did you say... fuck?"

"Is that not the right word in your time?" Reinette asked innocently.

"Yeah, actually it is. I guess some things never change."

Clearly "fuck" isn't even a French word, and I have no idea whatsoever what the French equivalent would be and if Reinette would have said it. But I did want to get the idea in here that the people of the past were not these stuck-up prudes that we seem to think they were. They fucked. They fucked a lot. They were just as obsessed with sex as us. And some practices were much more common in various other times and places than they are here and now. We like to think we're so sexually liberated, but it's not nearly as true as we think it is. We're still labouring under some uniquely Victorian hang-ups, that, prior to that time, weren't issues at all.

"Well, fucking never goes out of style, does it?" Reinette continued to pace about the room, adding a bit of a shimmy to her walk. "I feel like something's missing, though."

"No, you've got the full kit on there, aside from shoes," Rose reassured her.

"Indulge me." Reinette looked around the room, and again Rose could see her keen mind turning as she ran her eyes over the contents of the dresser, then the bedside table.

"There's nothing in there..." Rose said hastily as Reinette opened the bedside table drawer and plunged her hand in.

"Oh, I beg to differ," Reinette said, now clutching in her hand a very familiar, much beloved object.

All of the quiet calm that Rose had been enjoying fled in the wake of the burning shame she now felt. She was utterly speechless (what does one say when one's new best friend has discovered one's vibrator?), so when Reinette then shoved it down the front of her trousers, Rose couldn't have been any more at a loss for words than she already was.

Reinette stood up straight again, spread her feet shoulder-width apart, arms akimbo, proudly displaying the bulge at the front of her trousers.

"Uh-" Rose said, but then was reduced to complete silence again.

"And I'm glad to see that your time's unwillingness to talk about the state of your sex doesn't extend to never touching it either! I was about to be very sad that I had left my favourite little toy back in France."

Rose coughed, a painful thing to do while so tightly laced. "You didn't have... those, back where you came from, did you? I mean, they never taught us about that in school!"

"I have spent the majority of my waking and sleeping hours in the company of women, and I can assure you we very much have such things. Though I must say, my dear, it's a bit small. Do men shrink in the future?" Her voice was full of pity, though her hand wandered down to the front of her jeans where she cupped herself experimentally.

It took Rose a moment-a very fraught moment full of feeling a conditioned response to even the conversational mention of her vibrator-to figure out what Reinnete was trying to ask, but when she did, she found it to be the funniest thing she'd heard all week.

"It's not a dildo!" Rose hooted, resting her hands palm down on her stomach to control the pinching of her corset. "It's a vibrator. It's not supposed to be big."

"What's it for then, if not for fucking yourself?"

"It's electric. You know, like it's got its own power and it... well, it vibrates."

This seems to be turning into the Commentary of Authorial TMI, but the difference between dildos and vibrators was, once upon a time, quite lost on my long-suffering husband. I have a vibrator that is most definitely *just* a vibe, it is not for internal use at all, and it took me a long time to repeatedly insist that, no really, it doesn't go in there. It seemed to me like a good beat to introduce here, with Reinette coming from a time when things didn't vibrate, to get Rose to a place where she'd offer to demonstrate.

The smile that crept across Reinette's face was slow in forming, but built with each further realisation she made for how this device might revolutionise her own autoerotic habits. "I see," she said finally, even her voice smiling happily.

"Do you want me to... I can show you. I mean, how it works, how to turn it on. And not like you seem too upset about it anyway, but I do wash it. With soap and everything. Just so... I mean, I don't have any diseases or anything."

"I would never have dared to think you did. Such a sweet young thing, you've had so few men." Reinette approached Rose, testing out a bit of a swagger with her walk, leading with her groin and taking firm strides. "Do show me how. It sounds divine."

Cross-dressing complete with fake-package? Yes please. Total turn-on.

Rose looked away but admitted, "It is divine. The first time I came aboard, I left it at home, and I was miserable for days. When we went back again, it was the first thing I grabbed. Please don't tell the Doctor, though..."

LOL she thinks the Doctor doesn't know. In my world, he totally does. And that's totally hot. Have I mentioned my voyeurism kink?

Reinette quirked an eyebrow up but said nothing. She was so close to Rose now, she could feel the heat radiating off her body and smell her perfume clearly. "Show me," Reinette purred and Rose laughed nervously. But, if the great Madame de Pompadour wasn't afraid to talk about sex toys, why should Dame Rose of the Powell Estates be? It was an argument that made perfect sense at the time and Rose let a hand drift down to feel the much-talked-about item resting tight against Reinette's body, under a pair of Rose's own knickers.

"Well, there's a button on it, " Rose said conspiratorially. "You push it like..." she fumbled a bit through the fabric but found what she was seeking. "Like this." She pressed it and watched Reinette's eyes light up. "See? It vibrates!"

"So it does!" Reinette said, and Rose felt triumphant that at last she'd impressed the woman with something.

The essence of a crush, no?

"And if you press the button again, it goes faster."

Reinette had taken a step back and reached out to clutch the wardrobe with one hand. She looked to be utterly transported and Rose enjoyed watching the pleasure move across her face. She wanted to be the cause of that pleasure and not just a witness.

"It's easier if you lie down," Rose said. "Better access."

It may seem strange because this entire fic has been quite the fantasy porny set-up but this was the point where I thought, "Um, are they really going to do this? Is this at all, in any way even remotely realistic?"

"I bow to your expertise." Reinette moved over to the bed and first sat on the edge and then lay back. The sound of the vibrator running inside her knickers caused another response in Rose, and she watched with appreciation as Reinette pressed her palm against the bulge in her trousers, arching her hips up and humming appreciatively.

Rose followed Reinette to the bed watching how she licked her lips and let her eyes fall shut, and she wondered, is this what she herself looked like when she stole off for a quick bit of tension relief? The thought of anyone actually watching her had always been horrifying, but seeing Reinette now was exciting and deliciously forbidden.

*cough* Voyeurism. And to be clear, my kink is watching, not being watched (is the being-watched half exhibitionism, or is that still voyeurism? I fail at fetish terminology). Rose here is thinking that the watching-being-watched thing is all of a piece, but it isn't really, is it? Just because you wouldn't enjoy being watched doesn't mean you wouldn't enjoy watching.

When Rose reached down and covered Reinette's hand with her own, she went limp and let Rose press the magical button again, raising the speed. Reinette groaned-throaty, like her laugh. She bucked her hips up insistently, meeting Rose's hand and grinding into it with a much less reserved moan.

Rose pressed it one last time and Reinette's eyes flew open, met Rose's gaze steadily as her mouth formed a silent 'O'. Rose nodded, for some reason, and wanted to cheer her on, recalling her few own orgasmic firsts (which she'd wanted to be congratulated on, but had always been too embarrassed to tell anyone about). Reinette sucked in a tremendous amount of air before uttering a delicate little, "Ah!" The movement of her hips slowed and Rose took her cue to press the button one last time to switch the device off.

I think in a way this piece is a bit of a commentary on how little young women talk about sex, or at least how little we did when I was that age. I mean, yeah, you talk about it, but how much did you ever talk about what exactly gets you off and new things to try and how successful they'd been? The relationship that Rose and Reinette develop here as one of instructors to each other is something that interests me, and does exist in other cultures, and has existed in other time periods as well. So while part of Rose's fascination with Reinette is based on their mutual regard for the Doctor, there is a big part that is a sort of mutual-discovery dynamic that's got nothing to do with the men in their lives. They each discover a new sexual possibility that neither had considered before, and that will exist no matter who each one is sleeping with tomorrow.

Reinette lay on the bed, her relatively-unconstrained chest heaving, first with panting then with laughing. She laughed and laughed for a long time, infectiously, so Rose couldn't help laughing along as much as her stays would allow.

"Does anyone ever leave their house, in your time?" Reinette asked between gales of laughter.

"With surprising regularity, yeah."

*rimshot*

"That's a shame," Reinette said. "I mean, I have a hard enough time leaving my lady friends, and we don't even have this glorious toy to play with. Oh, how I'd like to go back and show them!"

"No crossing your personal timeline," Rose said automatically.

"Too bad," Reinette sighed, casually pulling the vibrator out of her trousers and laying it on the duvet. "It would make our games so much more fun."

"Games?" Rose asked. She figured there was no such thing as too personal now that she'd helped bring this woman off right there on her duvet with her own vibrator. All attempts at modesty now seemed a bit redundant.

Pure speculation on my part, but thinking about societies in which there is strict separation of genders amongst certain classes, it stands to reason. If you spend almost all your time with other women, with very little privacy, and had to remain generally chaste until you were married off, what would *you* spend your time doing?

"Would you like me to show you?"

Rose's throat constricted. Oh yes, how she would like to be shown. She was powerfully aroused by what she'd just witnessed, as well as by the gloriously alien feel of her elaborate clothing, and the vision of herself in the mirror looking like someone else. She felt all of her senses heightened, despite the many glasses of wine they'd drunk.

"I-- Yes, please." Rose squeaked.

"You're a good girl," Reinette cooed as she got up off the bed, leaving a warm indent on the duvet, like a snow-angel. "I think I'd very much like to kiss you. Can I do that?"

Rose almost laughed at being asked so politely, given the circumstances. "I'd like that," was what she finally responded with, though it seemed perfunctory as Reinette was already moving in as she said the words.

Rose had kissed girls before, but never as something overtly sexual. It was always just curiosity, a dare, something to turn their boyfriends on. But this, this was a revelation. Rose felt herself parting her lips and deepening the kiss without much insistence on Reinette's part. Reinette's hands curled around her cinched-in waist and it was as if she'd never been really touched before in her life. She moaned in to Reinette's mouth, prompting a sly smile.

Hang on, I'm cueing up I Kissed A Girl. Gotta say though, kissing girls is really nice, and in my (admitted limited) experience, rather different. It's the lack of stubble, I think.

Reinette moved a hand up to caress the top of Rose's breast, which felt weightless, being held up as it was by all the underpinnings. Rose began to step backwards, hoping the wall wasn't too far away, as she'd soon need support to stay upright in these many pounds of clothes while suffering from a distinct lack of oxygen.

When the wall was located, however, Rose found herself spun around and placed against it firmly but gently. Rose turned her head to the side and saw Reinette looking appreciatively at her backside. Cool air hit Rose's legs as Reinette pulled the back of her dress up, exposing all of the elaborate architecture underneath. A bare hand smacked her bare arse and both women smiled and giggled a little.

"I thought you said I was a good girl," Rose laughed.

"Good girls don't have nearly as much fun in my classroom, child. Now spread your legs."

Hi yeah this is the portion of the fic that I don't have anything to say about really, because I just thought it was hot. A little very very mild D/s schoolroom typed play, up against a wall from behind? It's like a have a checklist for these things. Which I don't, let me assure you. I'm just... I know what I like. And when I write porn, I write what I'd like to read.

Rose complied and a warm hand cupped under her rump and then in between her legs, where she was quite clearly ready for whatever awaited. She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt herself being explored. Rose was aching now, and the feeling of Reinette's other hand resting on her waist, steadying her, it was nearly unbearably sensual.

"For what you've shown me tonight, I owe you," Reinette whispered in to the back of Rose's neck and Rose shuddered. Reinette's clever fingers moved slowly, pressing lightly around Rose's clit, coaxing a sigh and a moan from both women. Rose made fists against the wall, trying not to seem too wanton with her desire, and failing utterly as she let out a sigh of, "Oh god," when Reinette entered her with one finger, then with two.

"It's a shame you don't have any especial friends," Reinette said, moving closer to capture Rose against the wall with her own body. "Men are lovely, but only a woman knows your most secret places."

Men are highly trainable (with the correct motivation and reinforcement) I'll grant.

And she did know. She swiped with a thumb, slowly plunged with her fingers, nipped the sensitive skin on the back of Rose's neck with her teeth, understood the desire to enjoy the moment rather than simply pursue a single goal.

This for me has always been the difference between how women experience sex and how men do. Sex for men I think by nature of how their bits work can be a bit goal-oriented. Which is fine, but so many women grow up not being able to orgasm easily from p-i-v intercourse that perhaps we learn to enjoy the trip as much as the destination? Because the destination is not always arrived at? IDK I could be talking out of my arse here. But that's been my personal experience.

Rose came just as hard as Reinette had earlier, also having experienced something new and seemingly magical, biting her lip to keep from shouting loud enough to alert the Doctor and Mickey.

Though upon reflection, perhaps she wanted them to know, and she began to wonder how complicit she could arrange for the TARDIS to be on the matter of acoustics. Reinette gently replaced her skirts and turned her back round again, giving her a tender kiss on the cheek.

I think I may have omitted this paragraph from the version I wound up posting, because I was so paranoid about this male-gaze business. But the fact remains here that my conception for how this was all going to shake out was that Rose and Reinette would definitely keep a bit of a standing date, but neither one of them was going to get all, "Now that I have seen the Sapphic light, eff the Doctor." And they're both going to, reflecting upon this encounter, start fantasizing about their new relationship as it applies to the man they're both in love with.

"You'll not tell the Doctor?" Rose said, in spite of herself.

"He sees so much more clearly than you give him credit for, child." Reinette answered simply. "It's not he that needs to accept you, it's quite the other way around. Now let me help you out of that frock. I think I fancy a bath, don't you?"

Anyone else imaginging soapy shenanigans? I kind of am. If I ever get up the guts to get over my paranoia regarding performative bisexuality, the male gaze, voyeurism and the politics of slashfic, I'll write a sequel. I would like to state for the record that I identify as bisexual, though I am in a heterosexual monogamous marriage. I have had physical relationships with women before, though not a whole whole lot (a couple). In fact, my husband and I met each other through a mutual female friend who, as it turns out, we'd both messed around with in the past. You might think that that could be awkward, but actually it was sort of a point of bonding. Aw.