Fic: Sweet December - Nineteen Days Until Christmas (1/6)
Title: Nineteen Days Until Christmas [1/6]
Author: WhosInTheAttic
Betas: dtstrainers and larxene_12; Britpicked by yumimum
Pairing: TenToo/Rose
Rating: M
Words: 2,376
Spoilers: Only the obvious, considering the pairing.
Notes: See the inspiration for the Doctor's ugly Christmas jumper here.
Rose stood beside him on the walkway, arms loaded down with bags. “Are you alright, Doctor?” she asked, her genuine concern tinged with a bit of mirth. The Doctor, his arms also full of bags, had slipped on a patch of ice on the pavement and landed on his bum. He wasn’t seriously injured, but she could tell by the way he’d contorted his face that the vigorous rubbing he was giving his bum wasn’t just for show.
She held out an arm for him to grab and, using her for leverage, he pulled himself to his feet. He stood gingerly, and tried to squirm about discreetly. He turned to grin at her, “Only thing wounded is my pride, Rose,” he said as he stooped to pick up the bags he’d dropped in an effort to catch himself. She was silently thankful that she had been the one carrying all the breakables.
“And your arse,” she smiled.
“That too,” he admitted with a sigh, giving the part in question another rub before stooping to pick up the last of the bags. She threw a piteous look to his backside as he continued up the pavement; he was clearly hurting more than he was willing to let on, and Rose was certain that it was a matter of being human now, as if admitting he’d bruised his arse somehow made him less in her eyes than the man he’d always been. Where his counterpart would’ve denied the incident with a few exaggerated phrases and gestures, and maybe a bit of a speech, her human Doctor was more like the first; denial mixed with stoicism that she could see through simply by looking into his eyes.
_-_-_-_-_-_
They’d tucked all the shopping into the cupboard, and finally removed their jackets. Rose bit her lip and rolled her eyes at the sight of the ugly Christmas jumper the Doctor was wearing. He’d found it. Again. It was absolutely terrible; all the typical Christmas colors with frolicking reindeer and snowflakes on it; the only thing it was missing was glitter and ridiculous pompoms. She’d buried it in the laundry twice, and another time had kicked it under the bed. The last time he’d worn it, she had stripped it off of him in the kitchen; they’d made love on the countertop, and while he was distracted with post-coital nibbles, she’d stuffed it under the kitchen sink.
And yet he always seemed to locate it. She wasn’t sure if he truly liked it (oh, she hoped not, but after what he’d shared about the sartorial choices of his past selves, she did worry), liked it ironically, or simply wore it to aggravate her. She quirked an eyebrow at him and settled on the latter.
“Doctor? Why don’t you take some paracetamol tablets, and let me run you a bath?”
“Now why would I do that?”
“Well, because you’re not fooling me with that bruised bum, and…I thought maybe I could join you.”
His face brightened as his eyes darkened at the way she’d intoned the suggestion. His eyes followed her as she moved toward their bedroom with just a little extra sway in her hips. She disappeared inside, and moments later he heard the bath running in their en suite. He popped into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of paracetamol from the cabinet and shook two tablets out before returning it. He downed them with a glass of water and eagerly moved to join Rose. His bum may have been sore, but he was still eager, stripping his jumper off and dropping it on the floor outside their bedroom, followed closely by his Henley and his vest; he paused one moment longer to drop and step out of his trousers.
When he entered the room, he was in nothing but his pants. Rose looking him up and down appraisingly and bit her lip, shifting in the bubbly water, “You sit in front,” she insisted, “I’ll wash your back.” She smiled, watching him raptly as he removed his last scrap of clothing, taking in the lean curves of his body as he lowered himself into the water. She could see the bruise already pooling under the milky skin of his left arse cheek.
Once settled in, the last of the night air chased from their bones, Rose wrung a wet flannel over his shoulders, letting the warm water run in rivulets down his skin. She did that several times before actually wiping at his skin; it wasn’t as if he was dirty anyway, but this had become a bit of a ritual for them, little intimate moments they could steal for themselves. She traced her fingertips lightly across his shoulders, and learned forward to kiss the back of his neck before beginning to knead the knots from his shoulders.
“So,” she said quietly, “This will be our first Christmas together…again.”
He hummed in approval at the work of her hands, and answered “Yep,” popping the p, and she can hear in the way he breathes that he’s smiling. “Ghosts in Cardiff, sword-fighting Sycorax over London; I have a feeling this time around isn’t going to be nearly as…eventful.” He sounded a bit wistful, but also a bit relieved.
“Well, you never know,” she leaned forward, pressing her breasts against his back as she breathed into his ear, “Parallel universe or not, this is still London.”
“Most jeopardy-friendly city on Earth,” he grinned and turned his head to kiss her. Rose dropped the flannel into the water and curled her arms around his torso. It was an odd angle, especially when they leaned back, but the feel of his skin on hers, the feel of his lips pressed to hers (even as he winces against her mouth, shifting over his bruised bum), it’s exactly where she wants to be, crick in her neck be damned.
Rose stroked his chest in little circles, caressing his nipples before moving to his waist. She grasped him gently before allowing one hand to drift toward his cock. The angles were weird, and the length of his torso made it difficult, but he shifted for her, and she took his length in hand, stroking him lazily beneath the water as they continued to kiss languidly.
After several minutes, the pain in Rose’s neck became too much; she nipped at the Doctor’s lip as she broke the kiss. “I think we should move this to the bed.”
_-_-_-_-_-_
Toweled off and still naked, the Doctor hadn’t lost any of his vigor. In fact he seemed more eager than ever as he moved toward Rose, who was already stretched out luxuriously on the bed. She crooked a finger at him, and instantly he was on her, covering her body with his own, his lips seeking out the hollow beneath her ear.
When he nipped her skin, Rose arched her body against him and curled her fingers into his hair. He slipped a hand between them and ran his fingers down her stomach, past her navel, and over the light thatch of hair just above her folds. He paused to ruffle it with his fingertips, teasing her before moving further down.
She sighed into his ear as he stroked her; she was wet and eager to have him, opening her legs further to allow him better access. He slipped one finger into her, stroking her walls a few times before withdrawing to add a second as he pressed his thumb into her clit.
After a month of awkward tension and long looks between them, Rose and her new, new, new Doctor had finally fallen into bed together. Initially the Doctor was dismayed to find that he didn’t have the control he once did; but over the course of weeks he learned, and was a quick study on everything there was to know about pleasing Rose Tyler.
Tonight was no exception, she knew, as he kissed his way down along the curve of her clavicle, dipping his tongue into the hollow of her throat for a moment before moving to her breasts, wrapping his lips around first her right nipple, and then her left. He laved each with his tongue until it was hard, nuzzling them with his nose before planting kisses over the rest of her breast as well. Her body grew hotter and hotter under his attentions, and all that warmth pooled low in her belly and made it tighten. She ached and wanted now, wanted him so badly. She could feel herself coming so close to the edge, but she wanted him inside of her, filling her. “Doctor,” she breathed, curling her fingers further into his damp hair. “Want you,” she sighed.
His response to her plea was to move his lips down the length of her body and replace his fingers with his tongue. She squirmed under his ministrations, and he responded with a steadying hand on her hip, slipping his fingers into her once more as he covered her clit with his mouth.
Rose gasped and writhed under his hold as he worked his mouth against her. The feel of his soft lips around her, his tongue whirling and curling against her, the way his fingers pressed into the wet curves of her body…it all felt incredible; it was consuming. She settled her right leg over his shoulder, his skin hot on the back of her thigh, his hair and sideburn tickling her tender flesh. She looked down her body at him, the muscles in his jaw working furiously; there was something about the way his lashes fluttered at the edges of his closed eyelids that made her heart (and other places) melt. She groaned and bucked into him, and he hummed his approval against her.
The feel of his voice vibrating against her flesh was too much, and the tension that had been building in her finally gave way. The Doctor growled against her as she came, allowing his tongue to slip once again to her entrance, circling it before plunging in to sample the evidence of her pleasure.
As her orgasm subsided, she cried out breathlessly, “Doctor…please…need you.”
He wiped his chin as discreetly as possible and crept back up her form, placing kisses in all the landmark locations: hip bones, navel, ribs, breasts, collarbones. He could feel his erection, painfully hard and weeping, and he murmured against her skin. “I need you Rose,” he whispered between kisses, “like I need air.” Finally he reached her neck and spoke so closely to her skin that each word was like its own kiss. “We’re going to have a very happy Christmas, Rose. This is just the first-well, sort-of first-of many.”
Rose smiled and turned her cheek into his in an effort to claim his lips, but he pulled back. “Rose Tyler, I love you.”
They smiled at each other, and then he covered her mouth with his own. He felt her fingers skating down his torso, one hand resting on his hip, and the other reaching between them to take him in hand. She guided him to her opening, and his whole body trembled at the feel of her heat. He pushed into her slowly, his gasp of pleasure mingling with her quiet sigh as she kissed him languorously.
He began a slow and gentle pace, savoring the feel of her around him and under him; he sighed her name over and over again against her lips, until they weren’t kissing, but gazing at each other, each wearing an identical look of awe that of all places, this is where they’d ended up.
Rose looked into the Doctor’s eyes, and could swear she saw something click into place for him in that moment. He was so full of love, that-in this moment, at least-there was no room for the lifetime of loneliness and loss he had known before her. She thought it was her own vanity, or perhaps that she was projecting her own feelings on him; her love for him made everything fit, even in this new universe where nothing else seemed to.
She rocked her hips against his, encouraging him to increase his speed, to take her faster and harder, and he responded energetically. He reached down to pull her leg further up his hip and soon they were a tangle of limbs and flesh and sweat, marking each other with teeth and lips and tongues. Words with and without meaning drifted between them, devolved into grunts and expletives as they moved harder and faster against each other.
The Doctor gripped Rose’s hips as he rolled them over, holding her close until she was straddling him. She planted her hands on his chest as she rocked her hips against him, and his fingers curled against her hips tightly enough that she was sure they’d leave marks. But she didn’t care. “Doctor,” she moaned. “Doctor!” she called out again, her rhythm becoming erratic as she strove for the orgasm that was just within reach.
“Rose!” he answered, bucking into her from below. He released her hip and moved his fingers to her clit, rubbing little circles against it, allowing her motions to carry her forward into his touch, and then…oh…he felt her muscles clench around him and he groaned. She took in a big shuddering gasp, and then it was happening; her body was clutching at him, squeezing him, wanting him so much closer, and suddenly he followed right after.
Rose collapsed on his chest and caged him between her arms; her breath against his neck slowly growing steadier between the soft kisses she placed there. After several minutes of lying that way, Rose rolled off of him and curled into his side.
She traced nonsensical patterns onto his chest with her fingertips until they both fell asleep.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Rose awoke in the middle of the night with a pressing need to use the loo.
On her way back from the bathroom, she spotted the Doctor’s jumper where he’d left it on the floor. The only light in the room was from the alarm clock on the night table, but she could see the outline of her Doctor, fast asleep. She quickly pushed the jumper beneath the chest of drawers with her foot before climbing back into bed and curling up beside him.
| Part 2 |
Author: WhosInTheAttic
Betas: dtstrainers and larxene_12; Britpicked by yumimum
Pairing: TenToo/Rose
Rating: M
Words: 2,376
Spoilers: Only the obvious, considering the pairing.
Notes: See the inspiration for the Doctor's ugly Christmas jumper here.
Rose stood beside him on the walkway, arms loaded down with bags. “Are you alright, Doctor?” she asked, her genuine concern tinged with a bit of mirth. The Doctor, his arms also full of bags, had slipped on a patch of ice on the pavement and landed on his bum. He wasn’t seriously injured, but she could tell by the way he’d contorted his face that the vigorous rubbing he was giving his bum wasn’t just for show.
She held out an arm for him to grab and, using her for leverage, he pulled himself to his feet. He stood gingerly, and tried to squirm about discreetly. He turned to grin at her, “Only thing wounded is my pride, Rose,” he said as he stooped to pick up the bags he’d dropped in an effort to catch himself. She was silently thankful that she had been the one carrying all the breakables.
“And your arse,” she smiled.
“That too,” he admitted with a sigh, giving the part in question another rub before stooping to pick up the last of the bags. She threw a piteous look to his backside as he continued up the pavement; he was clearly hurting more than he was willing to let on, and Rose was certain that it was a matter of being human now, as if admitting he’d bruised his arse somehow made him less in her eyes than the man he’d always been. Where his counterpart would’ve denied the incident with a few exaggerated phrases and gestures, and maybe a bit of a speech, her human Doctor was more like the first; denial mixed with stoicism that she could see through simply by looking into his eyes.
_-_-_-_-_-_
They’d tucked all the shopping into the cupboard, and finally removed their jackets. Rose bit her lip and rolled her eyes at the sight of the ugly Christmas jumper the Doctor was wearing. He’d found it. Again. It was absolutely terrible; all the typical Christmas colors with frolicking reindeer and snowflakes on it; the only thing it was missing was glitter and ridiculous pompoms. She’d buried it in the laundry twice, and another time had kicked it under the bed. The last time he’d worn it, she had stripped it off of him in the kitchen; they’d made love on the countertop, and while he was distracted with post-coital nibbles, she’d stuffed it under the kitchen sink.
And yet he always seemed to locate it. She wasn’t sure if he truly liked it (oh, she hoped not, but after what he’d shared about the sartorial choices of his past selves, she did worry), liked it ironically, or simply wore it to aggravate her. She quirked an eyebrow at him and settled on the latter.
“Doctor? Why don’t you take some paracetamol tablets, and let me run you a bath?”
“Now why would I do that?”
“Well, because you’re not fooling me with that bruised bum, and…I thought maybe I could join you.”
His face brightened as his eyes darkened at the way she’d intoned the suggestion. His eyes followed her as she moved toward their bedroom with just a little extra sway in her hips. She disappeared inside, and moments later he heard the bath running in their en suite. He popped into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of paracetamol from the cabinet and shook two tablets out before returning it. He downed them with a glass of water and eagerly moved to join Rose. His bum may have been sore, but he was still eager, stripping his jumper off and dropping it on the floor outside their bedroom, followed closely by his Henley and his vest; he paused one moment longer to drop and step out of his trousers.
When he entered the room, he was in nothing but his pants. Rose looking him up and down appraisingly and bit her lip, shifting in the bubbly water, “You sit in front,” she insisted, “I’ll wash your back.” She smiled, watching him raptly as he removed his last scrap of clothing, taking in the lean curves of his body as he lowered himself into the water. She could see the bruise already pooling under the milky skin of his left arse cheek.
Once settled in, the last of the night air chased from their bones, Rose wrung a wet flannel over his shoulders, letting the warm water run in rivulets down his skin. She did that several times before actually wiping at his skin; it wasn’t as if he was dirty anyway, but this had become a bit of a ritual for them, little intimate moments they could steal for themselves. She traced her fingertips lightly across his shoulders, and learned forward to kiss the back of his neck before beginning to knead the knots from his shoulders.
“So,” she said quietly, “This will be our first Christmas together…again.”
He hummed in approval at the work of her hands, and answered “Yep,” popping the p, and she can hear in the way he breathes that he’s smiling. “Ghosts in Cardiff, sword-fighting Sycorax over London; I have a feeling this time around isn’t going to be nearly as…eventful.” He sounded a bit wistful, but also a bit relieved.
“Well, you never know,” she leaned forward, pressing her breasts against his back as she breathed into his ear, “Parallel universe or not, this is still London.”
“Most jeopardy-friendly city on Earth,” he grinned and turned his head to kiss her. Rose dropped the flannel into the water and curled her arms around his torso. It was an odd angle, especially when they leaned back, but the feel of his skin on hers, the feel of his lips pressed to hers (even as he winces against her mouth, shifting over his bruised bum), it’s exactly where she wants to be, crick in her neck be damned.
Rose stroked his chest in little circles, caressing his nipples before moving to his waist. She grasped him gently before allowing one hand to drift toward his cock. The angles were weird, and the length of his torso made it difficult, but he shifted for her, and she took his length in hand, stroking him lazily beneath the water as they continued to kiss languidly.
After several minutes, the pain in Rose’s neck became too much; she nipped at the Doctor’s lip as she broke the kiss. “I think we should move this to the bed.”
_-_-_-_-_-_
Toweled off and still naked, the Doctor hadn’t lost any of his vigor. In fact he seemed more eager than ever as he moved toward Rose, who was already stretched out luxuriously on the bed. She crooked a finger at him, and instantly he was on her, covering her body with his own, his lips seeking out the hollow beneath her ear.
When he nipped her skin, Rose arched her body against him and curled her fingers into his hair. He slipped a hand between them and ran his fingers down her stomach, past her navel, and over the light thatch of hair just above her folds. He paused to ruffle it with his fingertips, teasing her before moving further down.
She sighed into his ear as he stroked her; she was wet and eager to have him, opening her legs further to allow him better access. He slipped one finger into her, stroking her walls a few times before withdrawing to add a second as he pressed his thumb into her clit.
After a month of awkward tension and long looks between them, Rose and her new, new, new Doctor had finally fallen into bed together. Initially the Doctor was dismayed to find that he didn’t have the control he once did; but over the course of weeks he learned, and was a quick study on everything there was to know about pleasing Rose Tyler.
Tonight was no exception, she knew, as he kissed his way down along the curve of her clavicle, dipping his tongue into the hollow of her throat for a moment before moving to her breasts, wrapping his lips around first her right nipple, and then her left. He laved each with his tongue until it was hard, nuzzling them with his nose before planting kisses over the rest of her breast as well. Her body grew hotter and hotter under his attentions, and all that warmth pooled low in her belly and made it tighten. She ached and wanted now, wanted him so badly. She could feel herself coming so close to the edge, but she wanted him inside of her, filling her. “Doctor,” she breathed, curling her fingers further into his damp hair. “Want you,” she sighed.
His response to her plea was to move his lips down the length of her body and replace his fingers with his tongue. She squirmed under his ministrations, and he responded with a steadying hand on her hip, slipping his fingers into her once more as he covered her clit with his mouth.
Rose gasped and writhed under his hold as he worked his mouth against her. The feel of his soft lips around her, his tongue whirling and curling against her, the way his fingers pressed into the wet curves of her body…it all felt incredible; it was consuming. She settled her right leg over his shoulder, his skin hot on the back of her thigh, his hair and sideburn tickling her tender flesh. She looked down her body at him, the muscles in his jaw working furiously; there was something about the way his lashes fluttered at the edges of his closed eyelids that made her heart (and other places) melt. She groaned and bucked into him, and he hummed his approval against her.
The feel of his voice vibrating against her flesh was too much, and the tension that had been building in her finally gave way. The Doctor growled against her as she came, allowing his tongue to slip once again to her entrance, circling it before plunging in to sample the evidence of her pleasure.
As her orgasm subsided, she cried out breathlessly, “Doctor…please…need you.”
He wiped his chin as discreetly as possible and crept back up her form, placing kisses in all the landmark locations: hip bones, navel, ribs, breasts, collarbones. He could feel his erection, painfully hard and weeping, and he murmured against her skin. “I need you Rose,” he whispered between kisses, “like I need air.” Finally he reached her neck and spoke so closely to her skin that each word was like its own kiss. “We’re going to have a very happy Christmas, Rose. This is just the first-well, sort-of first-of many.”
Rose smiled and turned her cheek into his in an effort to claim his lips, but he pulled back. “Rose Tyler, I love you.”
They smiled at each other, and then he covered her mouth with his own. He felt her fingers skating down his torso, one hand resting on his hip, and the other reaching between them to take him in hand. She guided him to her opening, and his whole body trembled at the feel of her heat. He pushed into her slowly, his gasp of pleasure mingling with her quiet sigh as she kissed him languorously.
He began a slow and gentle pace, savoring the feel of her around him and under him; he sighed her name over and over again against her lips, until they weren’t kissing, but gazing at each other, each wearing an identical look of awe that of all places, this is where they’d ended up.
Rose looked into the Doctor’s eyes, and could swear she saw something click into place for him in that moment. He was so full of love, that-in this moment, at least-there was no room for the lifetime of loneliness and loss he had known before her. She thought it was her own vanity, or perhaps that she was projecting her own feelings on him; her love for him made everything fit, even in this new universe where nothing else seemed to.
She rocked her hips against his, encouraging him to increase his speed, to take her faster and harder, and he responded energetically. He reached down to pull her leg further up his hip and soon they were a tangle of limbs and flesh and sweat, marking each other with teeth and lips and tongues. Words with and without meaning drifted between them, devolved into grunts and expletives as they moved harder and faster against each other.
The Doctor gripped Rose’s hips as he rolled them over, holding her close until she was straddling him. She planted her hands on his chest as she rocked her hips against him, and his fingers curled against her hips tightly enough that she was sure they’d leave marks. But she didn’t care. “Doctor,” she moaned. “Doctor!” she called out again, her rhythm becoming erratic as she strove for the orgasm that was just within reach.
“Rose!” he answered, bucking into her from below. He released her hip and moved his fingers to her clit, rubbing little circles against it, allowing her motions to carry her forward into his touch, and then…oh…he felt her muscles clench around him and he groaned. She took in a big shuddering gasp, and then it was happening; her body was clutching at him, squeezing him, wanting him so much closer, and suddenly he followed right after.
Rose collapsed on his chest and caged him between her arms; her breath against his neck slowly growing steadier between the soft kisses she placed there. After several minutes of lying that way, Rose rolled off of him and curled into his side.
She traced nonsensical patterns onto his chest with her fingertips until they both fell asleep.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Rose awoke in the middle of the night with a pressing need to use the loo.
On her way back from the bathroom, she spotted the Doctor’s jumper where he’d left it on the floor. The only light in the room was from the alarm clock on the night table, but she could see the outline of her Doctor, fast asleep. She quickly pushed the jumper beneath the chest of drawers with her foot before climbing back into bed and curling up beside him.
| Part 2 |