Fic: Sweet December - New Year's Eve (6/6)
Title: New Year's Eve [6/6]
Author: WhosInTheAttic
Beta: None yet; my mistakes are my own; Britpicked by yumimum
Pairing: TenToo/Rose
Rating: M
Words: 3,190
Spoilers: Only the obvious, considering the pairing.
| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |
They were out at a posh restaurant; Rose a bit chilled in her little black dress, strappy heels, and the jewelry he’d bought her, and himself clad in his most expensive blue pinstripes. He was wearing a set of maroon dress shoes with white stitching, and had Rose could tell he’d made an effort to tidy his hair, though it still jutted about in its usual fashion.
After their meal, they stepped onto the terrace for some air; it was unseasonably warm, and the night air wasn’t as biting as it should’ve been. Likely the planet was still recovering from the effects of the rift, but just then Rose was feeling the effects of the wine she’d had with dinner. They’d spent quite awhile chatting at the table, long enough for the warmth of the alcohol to seep into her. The Doctor bent and leaned his elbows on the railing, and Rose admired his backside.
He seemed to be searching the skyline for an answer, “Penny for ‘em?” she asks.
“I was just thinking about the past.”
“Oh,” Rose said, trying to keep level; she had been witness to the Doctor’s melancholy on multiple occasions, and while she hoped that he wouldn’t be encumbered by it tonight, she was ready to listen to him all the same.
“Yep,” he turned to her, “About us; about a shop basement, a funeral parlor, and tonight…I’ve been thinking about what you said at Canary Wharf oh-so-long ago,” he said. Rose’s heart started to thump a little harder in her chest; the Doctor rarely said the words, ‘Canary Wharf’ if he ever referred to that day at all, and if he did it was, ‘the day I lost you’.
“Y-you have?” she said, and was surprised to find herself a bit breathless.
“Yeah,” he tucked his hands into his pockets and looked at his shoes, and noticing one was untied, he stooped to retie it. She looked to the skyline for a moment, speculating what he might say, when he took her hand. “Rose?” she looked down at him. “I’m never going to leave you either,” he said, looking up at her, “I love you with all my hearts-heart-and I,” he pauses, and presents her with a small velvet box, “Rose Tyler, will you marry me?” Her eyes searched his, then to the silver band set with blue sapphires, and back to his eyes again as he continued to speak.
“When we came to this universe, I only had the clothes on my back. And well, that ten quid, too I suppose-and some bits and bobs, and an old packet of Jelly Babies.” He paused, his brows furrowing as he realized he was babbling. He took a breath and continued, “I can’t give you the stars. I can’t give you time and space,” he said, his voice cracking, “but…there’s me.” He breathed, wondering if those words held the same weight for her that they did for him. “I can give you me…if you want.”
Rose looked down at him, her eyes with tears in the face of his earnest words. She tried to speak, but her voice cracked, so she just nodded, her tears spilling silently down her cheeks, “Yes,” she finally croaks, “Yes, Doctor; I want.”
Her head swam as he plucked the ring from its perch and slipped it onto her finger. The moment seemed surreal; then again, most of their relationship had been. Even in the months leading up to Canary Wharf, when they’d fallen into a seemingly perfect rhythm, she hadn’t let herself think of this-that a moment like this was even possible for them-yet he was on one knee before her, telling her he loved her, offering himself and the promise of a life together, kissing the backs of her fingers.
The Doctor got to his feet, tucking the now-empty ring box into his jacket pocket. He cupped her cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb, “I’ve only got one life, Rose Tyler,” he smiled, “and it will be my honor to spend it with you.” Then his lips were on hers, soft and seeking. She curled her arms around him, over his shoulders, allowing the fingers of one hand to slip into the hair at the back of his head.
She slipped her tongue between his lips, and they sighed into one another’s mouths, each tasting the wine on the other’s breath. The Doctor caressed her tongue languidly with his own, wanting to savor her, and commit this moment to memory; Rose Tyler had agreed to be his wife. As he nipped at her lower lip, he realized that wife was a much better word for Rose than girlfriend ever was; the word sat perfectly on his mind and in his heart.
Their kiss grew deeper and more passionate, and Rose could feel her skin flushing with heat; she broke the kiss and spoke against his parted lips, “I think I’d like to take my fiancé home,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she clutched his shoulders. Her mind and body were at odds with each other, trying to decide whether to push him away or pull him closer to her until he withdrew and took her hand in his.
“Your fiancé would like to be taken home,” he said, winking at her.
They were waiting at the counter outside of the coat room, claim tickets in hand, but the attendant was nowhere to be found. “Sod this,” the Doctor whispered, and lifted the hinged counter. He tugged Rose after him, and then they were in the coat room. Rose squinted at the number on her ticket, and then at the racks of coats that lined the walls.
Rose reached out with her free hand to brush at the sleeves of the coats, moving them just enough to get a look at their claims numbers, when suddenly the Doctor pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his. He pressed his hips against hers as he walked them back against the wall, the coats cushioning the force of it. She wanted to tell him, “Not the time, not the place, Doctor,” but the words just wouldn’t come. Instead all she could think was, Your lips, I love this, I want you, and possibly the vague inkling that they might be caught. The possibility made warmth pool low in Rose’s belly as the Doctor’s lips moved to her neck.
She gasped as he nipped at that place below her ear; his tongue massaged it, and his breath ghosted across her ear as he exhaled through his nose, sending chills through her body. “Doctor,” she sighed, gripping his shoulders. He hummed against her skin and skated his hands down to grip her breasts for a moment before moving them again. One hand curved around her waist, his thumb stroking circles just above her hip, the other continuing down to her thigh. His fingertips crept up her skirt, and he began stroking her over her silk knickers. She whimpered softly and rocked against him, feeling his erection press into her hip.
The Doctor felt dampness at the crotch of her knickers, and he rocked his hips against Rose, allowing the pressure to give him some relief. He became impatient; he wanted her now. He wanted to take her right here, right now against this wall; he hooked the edge of her knickers with one finger and pulled them aside. She gasped as he teased her folds, and as she lunged for his neck, he plunged two fingers into her.
Her heart was pounding behind her ribs, and she felt hot all over; waves of desire flowing through her and cresting between her thighs, where the Doctor’s fingers were now flexing against her in the way he knew she loved. She reached down to cup him over the front of his trousers, and gave him a firm squeeze. He hissed against her ear and thrust against her hand before returning his attentions to her neck. Rose tipped her head back to allow him easier access, and he slid his tongue down the column of her neck and dipped it into the hollow of her throat. “Doctor,” she sighed.
“Ahem,” someone said, clearing their throat. Rose and the Doctor jumped apart like they’d been sprayed with a hose, Rose immediately smoothing at her skirt, the Doctor cramming his hand-wet fingers and all-into the pocket of his trousers, “You are not supposed to be in here,” the scandalized coat room attendant announced, “I think it’s time you leave.”
“We were just,” the Doctor said, gesturing with his free hand, “looking for our coats.”
“Right,” the woman said, crossing her arms. Rose, blushing bright red, couldn’t quite look the woman in the eye. Instead, she reached into her bra and retrieved the claims tickets. The clerk tilted her head toward the exit, and Rose and the Doctor took the hint. Once on the other side of the counter, they only had to wait a moment for the woman to return with their coats.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Soon, they were in the back of one of the Vitex-owned hired cars, tucked safely behind the tinted partition, spread out over the back seat. After rucking her dress up to her hips, he unceremoniously removed her sexy Christmas knickers with his teeth, and buried his face in her folds.
Rose’s right leg rested over his shoulder, her left foot planted on the floor of the car. Her hands were tangled in his hair, pressing him to her sex as she bit her lip to stifle her cries. His tongue, his clever tongue, was buried within her, twirling and turning against her sensitive flesh as he nuzzled her, humming his approval against her smooth skin. He moved to wrap his lips around her clit, and she groaned, tightening her grip on his hair, which in turn made him moan against her flesh.
The Doctor loved the taste and feel of everything that was Rose. He loved the way she keened at the feel of his tongue tracing little circles against her, the silky feel of her wet flesh against his lips and tongue, and the way her trimmed curls tickled his nose slightly as his tongue played over her clit. Having her like this in the back of the hired car made him incredibly hard, and he ground against the seat rhythmically to keep the tension from becoming unbearable. There was a thrill to be had in fooling around in public; the thought of getting caught in the coat room was erotic-far more erotic than actually getting caught (that had just been embarrassing, honestly)-and was like pouring gasoline on the fire that was his human libido.
Rose could feel herself edging closer and closer to climax, and as the minutes ticked by, she was worried they wouldn’t have enough time; suddenly the forty-five minute car ride didn’t feel like it would be long enough at all. The fear that his talented lips would leave her before she came caused her whole body to twinge with hot pleasure. She let out a small gasp, and he hummed against her.
He felt her body tense as she neared her peak, and as Rose came, her whole body trembled with the force of it. She moaned loudly before stuffing her fist partially into her mouth to stifle the cries; it wouldn’t do to be caught out with the Doctor between her legs twice in the same evening. When she’d finally come down, the Doctor pulled back, carefully wiping his chin. “That was,” she said, breath still shaking, “amazin’.”
“Isn’t it always?” he asked smugly, straightening his tie.
She slapped his shoulder playfully, and shifted to straighten her dress into something presentable.
A few short minutes later, the car was idling outside their flat. The Doctor exited, and then held out a hand to help Rose. She waited by the door as he settled things with the driver-gave him a large tip, she suspected. The wind changed directions, and she caught the driver’s voice, “So you asked her then.”
“Yeah,” she saw, more than heard, the Doctor reply. The driver must have congratulated him, though she only heard the Doctor’s reply of, “Thank you,” before he waved the car off and came toward her.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Once in the privacy of their flat, Rose had no problem showing him how eager she was to have him, and have him now. He’d opened up to her; while it was true that he had been less guarded since losing a heart, he was still the Doctor, and for the Doctor to be earnest and direct with his feelings to such an extent was a rare thing. When he bared his soul to her like that, it set off something primal in her, and-strangely enough-the feeling it evoked low in her belly was nearly identical to the one she’d experienced the first time she’d ever undressed him (she didn’t count that time he was unconscious). Tonight, he had offered himself to her and she had accepted. Now that same familiar heat was burning through her, and she wanted him to make good on that offer.
Rose’s lips eagerly claimed his, and the Doctor pulled her to himself enthusiastically. She worked quickly to undo the buttons of his jacket and shirt, before pushing both off of his shoulders and down his arms in one go, pressing herself flush against him as she did. The slippery feel of her dress against his flesh was tantalizing as he wriggled his arms to free himself of his shirtsleeves. Rose bent to press wet kisses to his chest, her tongue teasing at his nipples, and his skin was flushed and consumed by a prickling heat; he could feel his cock straining against his trousers. As Rose straightened her back to reclaim his mouth, she pulled his hips to hers; they both groaned as his erection pressed against her.
“Doctor,” she said, “I want you,” her lips moved against his as she spoke, her hands snaking from his hips to his head, framing his face, “I want you to take me,” she gasped, nipping at his lips. She wasn’t sure if it was his heartfelt words or all the wine she’d had, but she suddenly felt as if she were burning for him; only for him. “Take me to the bedroom and shag me into the mattress.”
“Rose,” he gasped against her lips as they moved awkwardly toward the bedroom, “Want you, need you.” They fumbled at each other’s clothing, nearly falling over each other several times before finally landing on the bed. The Doctor stood and toed off his shoes as he tugged frantically at the fastenings of his trousers. He stooped to pull off his socks, his eyes dark and locked on Rose as she pulls her dress up over her head.
“Seems I left my knickers in the limo,” she sighed, reaching behind herself to unhook her bra.
“Quite right,” he said. He stared for a moment, his eyes roving over the swells of her naked body. She shifted up the bed so that her head was on the pillows; one leg straight and the other bent, falling to the side and revealing her sex to him. His eyes linger on her as she caresses the delicate flesh.
“Doctor?” she purred, her fingertips lightly teasing her folds. His eyes flicked up to hers.
“Hmm?”
“Why are you still all the way over there?” she grinned, her tongue peeking through her teeth. With that, he sprang on her, moving lithely up her form, pausing to lavish his attention on her breasts before moving to her neck, where he nipped and sucked and marked her. “Doctor,” she sighed, reaching between them to stroke his erection. “Now. Now, please. Now,” she whimpered. She pulled at his hip with her other hand, and with one hand on his cock, he guided himself to her entrance; eager and needy, he thrust all the way into her in once fast, firm stroke.
“Yes!” she gasped out at the same time as he moaned into the crook of her neck.
“Rose! You feel…oh!” he moaned and, biting his lip, he began to move.
“Oh, Doctor! I love you,” she spoke, shifting her hips to the rhythm he set, her hand at his waist encouraging him.
“I love you,” he sighed, kissing her briefly before her lips and teeth and tongue were working at his neck, causing a heat within him to swell and snap; he started thrusting harder into her, taking hold of the headboard for leverage.
Rose gasped and brought a hand up to brace against the headboard as well, pushing against it as she rocked her hips into his, meeting him thrust for thrust. She loved when he was like this, his reservation gone, his control frayed; he was the Oncoming Shag, and Rose’s breath trembled at the thought that she could do this to him. Rose keened beneath him and cried out, “Yes, Doctor! Yes. Yes! More!”
Through a thick haze of human lust, the Doctor worried that he was hurting her; tiny bubbles of shame threatened to rise to the surface, but Rose’s words turned them to stone and they fell away. He was moving into her with vigor, her slick heat and his name on her lips pushing him ever-closer to the edge. “Rose,” he called out, his voice shaking as he looked down at her.
Her name from his mouth was a force unto its own, and she felt herself clench around him; she was close. One hand still on the headboard, she slipped the other between them and rubbed at her clit; frantic little circles that she tried to match to his strokes. Her eyes flickered from his lips (he was biting his lower one) to the column of his throat where his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. The Doctor rolled his hips and she moaned, her eyes falling shut, her fingers working against her slick flesh and suddenly her orgasm was upon her.
The Doctor groaned as her muscles tightened around him, and he came with her; a flood of Gallifreyan endearments on his lips. He collapsed into her waiting arms, his mouth pressed to the side of her neck as she lightly stroked the skin of his back, her touch adding to the chill caused by the evaporating sheen of sweat.
The moments after they’ve made love-while he’s still inside of her, her heart pounding and his head swimming from orgasm-are his favorite. Not only because this was as physically close to Rose as he could possibly be, but because if he was very, very still, he could imagine her heart beating within his chest, restoring the rhythm he’d lost in the metacrisis.
She felt him smile against her skin, and reached up to comb her fingers through his hair. “What?” she whispered.
“Happy New Year.”
“You, too Doctor.”
“Rose?”
“Yeah?”
“Should I call the driver and see about getting your knickers back?”
| Masterlist |
Author: WhosInTheAttic
Beta: None yet; my mistakes are my own; Britpicked by yumimum
Pairing: TenToo/Rose
Rating: M
Words: 3,190
Spoilers: Only the obvious, considering the pairing.
| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |
They were out at a posh restaurant; Rose a bit chilled in her little black dress, strappy heels, and the jewelry he’d bought her, and himself clad in his most expensive blue pinstripes. He was wearing a set of maroon dress shoes with white stitching, and had Rose could tell he’d made an effort to tidy his hair, though it still jutted about in its usual fashion.
After their meal, they stepped onto the terrace for some air; it was unseasonably warm, and the night air wasn’t as biting as it should’ve been. Likely the planet was still recovering from the effects of the rift, but just then Rose was feeling the effects of the wine she’d had with dinner. They’d spent quite awhile chatting at the table, long enough for the warmth of the alcohol to seep into her. The Doctor bent and leaned his elbows on the railing, and Rose admired his backside.
He seemed to be searching the skyline for an answer, “Penny for ‘em?” she asks.
“I was just thinking about the past.”
“Oh,” Rose said, trying to keep level; she had been witness to the Doctor’s melancholy on multiple occasions, and while she hoped that he wouldn’t be encumbered by it tonight, she was ready to listen to him all the same.
“Yep,” he turned to her, “About us; about a shop basement, a funeral parlor, and tonight…I’ve been thinking about what you said at Canary Wharf oh-so-long ago,” he said. Rose’s heart started to thump a little harder in her chest; the Doctor rarely said the words, ‘Canary Wharf’ if he ever referred to that day at all, and if he did it was, ‘the day I lost you’.
“Y-you have?” she said, and was surprised to find herself a bit breathless.
“Yeah,” he tucked his hands into his pockets and looked at his shoes, and noticing one was untied, he stooped to retie it. She looked to the skyline for a moment, speculating what he might say, when he took her hand. “Rose?” she looked down at him. “I’m never going to leave you either,” he said, looking up at her, “I love you with all my hearts-heart-and I,” he pauses, and presents her with a small velvet box, “Rose Tyler, will you marry me?” Her eyes searched his, then to the silver band set with blue sapphires, and back to his eyes again as he continued to speak.
“When we came to this universe, I only had the clothes on my back. And well, that ten quid, too I suppose-and some bits and bobs, and an old packet of Jelly Babies.” He paused, his brows furrowing as he realized he was babbling. He took a breath and continued, “I can’t give you the stars. I can’t give you time and space,” he said, his voice cracking, “but…there’s me.” He breathed, wondering if those words held the same weight for her that they did for him. “I can give you me…if you want.”
Rose looked down at him, her eyes with tears in the face of his earnest words. She tried to speak, but her voice cracked, so she just nodded, her tears spilling silently down her cheeks, “Yes,” she finally croaks, “Yes, Doctor; I want.”
Her head swam as he plucked the ring from its perch and slipped it onto her finger. The moment seemed surreal; then again, most of their relationship had been. Even in the months leading up to Canary Wharf, when they’d fallen into a seemingly perfect rhythm, she hadn’t let herself think of this-that a moment like this was even possible for them-yet he was on one knee before her, telling her he loved her, offering himself and the promise of a life together, kissing the backs of her fingers.
The Doctor got to his feet, tucking the now-empty ring box into his jacket pocket. He cupped her cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb, “I’ve only got one life, Rose Tyler,” he smiled, “and it will be my honor to spend it with you.” Then his lips were on hers, soft and seeking. She curled her arms around him, over his shoulders, allowing the fingers of one hand to slip into the hair at the back of his head.
She slipped her tongue between his lips, and they sighed into one another’s mouths, each tasting the wine on the other’s breath. The Doctor caressed her tongue languidly with his own, wanting to savor her, and commit this moment to memory; Rose Tyler had agreed to be his wife. As he nipped at her lower lip, he realized that wife was a much better word for Rose than girlfriend ever was; the word sat perfectly on his mind and in his heart.
Their kiss grew deeper and more passionate, and Rose could feel her skin flushing with heat; she broke the kiss and spoke against his parted lips, “I think I’d like to take my fiancé home,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she clutched his shoulders. Her mind and body were at odds with each other, trying to decide whether to push him away or pull him closer to her until he withdrew and took her hand in his.
“Your fiancé would like to be taken home,” he said, winking at her.
They were waiting at the counter outside of the coat room, claim tickets in hand, but the attendant was nowhere to be found. “Sod this,” the Doctor whispered, and lifted the hinged counter. He tugged Rose after him, and then they were in the coat room. Rose squinted at the number on her ticket, and then at the racks of coats that lined the walls.
Rose reached out with her free hand to brush at the sleeves of the coats, moving them just enough to get a look at their claims numbers, when suddenly the Doctor pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his. He pressed his hips against hers as he walked them back against the wall, the coats cushioning the force of it. She wanted to tell him, “Not the time, not the place, Doctor,” but the words just wouldn’t come. Instead all she could think was, Your lips, I love this, I want you, and possibly the vague inkling that they might be caught. The possibility made warmth pool low in Rose’s belly as the Doctor’s lips moved to her neck.
She gasped as he nipped at that place below her ear; his tongue massaged it, and his breath ghosted across her ear as he exhaled through his nose, sending chills through her body. “Doctor,” she sighed, gripping his shoulders. He hummed against her skin and skated his hands down to grip her breasts for a moment before moving them again. One hand curved around her waist, his thumb stroking circles just above her hip, the other continuing down to her thigh. His fingertips crept up her skirt, and he began stroking her over her silk knickers. She whimpered softly and rocked against him, feeling his erection press into her hip.
The Doctor felt dampness at the crotch of her knickers, and he rocked his hips against Rose, allowing the pressure to give him some relief. He became impatient; he wanted her now. He wanted to take her right here, right now against this wall; he hooked the edge of her knickers with one finger and pulled them aside. She gasped as he teased her folds, and as she lunged for his neck, he plunged two fingers into her.
Her heart was pounding behind her ribs, and she felt hot all over; waves of desire flowing through her and cresting between her thighs, where the Doctor’s fingers were now flexing against her in the way he knew she loved. She reached down to cup him over the front of his trousers, and gave him a firm squeeze. He hissed against her ear and thrust against her hand before returning his attentions to her neck. Rose tipped her head back to allow him easier access, and he slid his tongue down the column of her neck and dipped it into the hollow of her throat. “Doctor,” she sighed.
“Ahem,” someone said, clearing their throat. Rose and the Doctor jumped apart like they’d been sprayed with a hose, Rose immediately smoothing at her skirt, the Doctor cramming his hand-wet fingers and all-into the pocket of his trousers, “You are not supposed to be in here,” the scandalized coat room attendant announced, “I think it’s time you leave.”
“We were just,” the Doctor said, gesturing with his free hand, “looking for our coats.”
“Right,” the woman said, crossing her arms. Rose, blushing bright red, couldn’t quite look the woman in the eye. Instead, she reached into her bra and retrieved the claims tickets. The clerk tilted her head toward the exit, and Rose and the Doctor took the hint. Once on the other side of the counter, they only had to wait a moment for the woman to return with their coats.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Soon, they were in the back of one of the Vitex-owned hired cars, tucked safely behind the tinted partition, spread out over the back seat. After rucking her dress up to her hips, he unceremoniously removed her sexy Christmas knickers with his teeth, and buried his face in her folds.
Rose’s right leg rested over his shoulder, her left foot planted on the floor of the car. Her hands were tangled in his hair, pressing him to her sex as she bit her lip to stifle her cries. His tongue, his clever tongue, was buried within her, twirling and turning against her sensitive flesh as he nuzzled her, humming his approval against her smooth skin. He moved to wrap his lips around her clit, and she groaned, tightening her grip on his hair, which in turn made him moan against her flesh.
The Doctor loved the taste and feel of everything that was Rose. He loved the way she keened at the feel of his tongue tracing little circles against her, the silky feel of her wet flesh against his lips and tongue, and the way her trimmed curls tickled his nose slightly as his tongue played over her clit. Having her like this in the back of the hired car made him incredibly hard, and he ground against the seat rhythmically to keep the tension from becoming unbearable. There was a thrill to be had in fooling around in public; the thought of getting caught in the coat room was erotic-far more erotic than actually getting caught (that had just been embarrassing, honestly)-and was like pouring gasoline on the fire that was his human libido.
Rose could feel herself edging closer and closer to climax, and as the minutes ticked by, she was worried they wouldn’t have enough time; suddenly the forty-five minute car ride didn’t feel like it would be long enough at all. The fear that his talented lips would leave her before she came caused her whole body to twinge with hot pleasure. She let out a small gasp, and he hummed against her.
He felt her body tense as she neared her peak, and as Rose came, her whole body trembled with the force of it. She moaned loudly before stuffing her fist partially into her mouth to stifle the cries; it wouldn’t do to be caught out with the Doctor between her legs twice in the same evening. When she’d finally come down, the Doctor pulled back, carefully wiping his chin. “That was,” she said, breath still shaking, “amazin’.”
“Isn’t it always?” he asked smugly, straightening his tie.
She slapped his shoulder playfully, and shifted to straighten her dress into something presentable.
A few short minutes later, the car was idling outside their flat. The Doctor exited, and then held out a hand to help Rose. She waited by the door as he settled things with the driver-gave him a large tip, she suspected. The wind changed directions, and she caught the driver’s voice, “So you asked her then.”
“Yeah,” she saw, more than heard, the Doctor reply. The driver must have congratulated him, though she only heard the Doctor’s reply of, “Thank you,” before he waved the car off and came toward her.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Once in the privacy of their flat, Rose had no problem showing him how eager she was to have him, and have him now. He’d opened up to her; while it was true that he had been less guarded since losing a heart, he was still the Doctor, and for the Doctor to be earnest and direct with his feelings to such an extent was a rare thing. When he bared his soul to her like that, it set off something primal in her, and-strangely enough-the feeling it evoked low in her belly was nearly identical to the one she’d experienced the first time she’d ever undressed him (she didn’t count that time he was unconscious). Tonight, he had offered himself to her and she had accepted. Now that same familiar heat was burning through her, and she wanted him to make good on that offer.
Rose’s lips eagerly claimed his, and the Doctor pulled her to himself enthusiastically. She worked quickly to undo the buttons of his jacket and shirt, before pushing both off of his shoulders and down his arms in one go, pressing herself flush against him as she did. The slippery feel of her dress against his flesh was tantalizing as he wriggled his arms to free himself of his shirtsleeves. Rose bent to press wet kisses to his chest, her tongue teasing at his nipples, and his skin was flushed and consumed by a prickling heat; he could feel his cock straining against his trousers. As Rose straightened her back to reclaim his mouth, she pulled his hips to hers; they both groaned as his erection pressed against her.
“Doctor,” she said, “I want you,” her lips moved against his as she spoke, her hands snaking from his hips to his head, framing his face, “I want you to take me,” she gasped, nipping at his lips. She wasn’t sure if it was his heartfelt words or all the wine she’d had, but she suddenly felt as if she were burning for him; only for him. “Take me to the bedroom and shag me into the mattress.”
“Rose,” he gasped against her lips as they moved awkwardly toward the bedroom, “Want you, need you.” They fumbled at each other’s clothing, nearly falling over each other several times before finally landing on the bed. The Doctor stood and toed off his shoes as he tugged frantically at the fastenings of his trousers. He stooped to pull off his socks, his eyes dark and locked on Rose as she pulls her dress up over her head.
“Seems I left my knickers in the limo,” she sighed, reaching behind herself to unhook her bra.
“Quite right,” he said. He stared for a moment, his eyes roving over the swells of her naked body. She shifted up the bed so that her head was on the pillows; one leg straight and the other bent, falling to the side and revealing her sex to him. His eyes linger on her as she caresses the delicate flesh.
“Doctor?” she purred, her fingertips lightly teasing her folds. His eyes flicked up to hers.
“Hmm?”
“Why are you still all the way over there?” she grinned, her tongue peeking through her teeth. With that, he sprang on her, moving lithely up her form, pausing to lavish his attention on her breasts before moving to her neck, where he nipped and sucked and marked her. “Doctor,” she sighed, reaching between them to stroke his erection. “Now. Now, please. Now,” she whimpered. She pulled at his hip with her other hand, and with one hand on his cock, he guided himself to her entrance; eager and needy, he thrust all the way into her in once fast, firm stroke.
“Yes!” she gasped out at the same time as he moaned into the crook of her neck.
“Rose! You feel…oh!” he moaned and, biting his lip, he began to move.
“Oh, Doctor! I love you,” she spoke, shifting her hips to the rhythm he set, her hand at his waist encouraging him.
“I love you,” he sighed, kissing her briefly before her lips and teeth and tongue were working at his neck, causing a heat within him to swell and snap; he started thrusting harder into her, taking hold of the headboard for leverage.
Rose gasped and brought a hand up to brace against the headboard as well, pushing against it as she rocked her hips into his, meeting him thrust for thrust. She loved when he was like this, his reservation gone, his control frayed; he was the Oncoming Shag, and Rose’s breath trembled at the thought that she could do this to him. Rose keened beneath him and cried out, “Yes, Doctor! Yes. Yes! More!”
Through a thick haze of human lust, the Doctor worried that he was hurting her; tiny bubbles of shame threatened to rise to the surface, but Rose’s words turned them to stone and they fell away. He was moving into her with vigor, her slick heat and his name on her lips pushing him ever-closer to the edge. “Rose,” he called out, his voice shaking as he looked down at her.
Her name from his mouth was a force unto its own, and she felt herself clench around him; she was close. One hand still on the headboard, she slipped the other between them and rubbed at her clit; frantic little circles that she tried to match to his strokes. Her eyes flickered from his lips (he was biting his lower one) to the column of his throat where his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. The Doctor rolled his hips and she moaned, her eyes falling shut, her fingers working against her slick flesh and suddenly her orgasm was upon her.
The Doctor groaned as her muscles tightened around him, and he came with her; a flood of Gallifreyan endearments on his lips. He collapsed into her waiting arms, his mouth pressed to the side of her neck as she lightly stroked the skin of his back, her touch adding to the chill caused by the evaporating sheen of sweat.
The moments after they’ve made love-while he’s still inside of her, her heart pounding and his head swimming from orgasm-are his favorite. Not only because this was as physically close to Rose as he could possibly be, but because if he was very, very still, he could imagine her heart beating within his chest, restoring the rhythm he’d lost in the metacrisis.
She felt him smile against her skin, and reached up to comb her fingers through his hair. “What?” she whispered.
“Happy New Year.”
“You, too Doctor.”
“Rose?”
“Yeah?”
“Should I call the driver and see about getting your knickers back?”
| Masterlist |