Author's Notes: A piece that is slightly similar to Beautiful to Me, although this one is obviously not a all-dialogue fic. Honestly, even if I wanted to stop writing about these two, I couldn't. They take over my mind and make me write. Now if only I could write something longer than 1,000 words... R&R is always welcome and lovely. xo.
Such Pretty Words.
Over his nine hundred years of life, the Doctor has developed a rather... interesting, version of dirty talk, far different than any Rory has ever heard. There's no cursing, no promises to fuck him senseless or make him see stars (although he does do both of those things anyways). When he actually really thinks about it, Rory doesn't even think that it's appropriate to call it 'dirty talk' because it simply isn't dirty. It's something else, something different and loving, something entirely the Doctor.
"Oh Rory," he murmurs as he kisses down Rory's neck, fingers trailing over his ribs, "beautiful, gorgeous Rory, do you have any idea what you do to me?"
"I might have an idea," Rory sighs, desperately arching his hips up, silently begging for friction of some kind. The Doctor merely chuckles, his long, slim fingers moving to hold Rory down, thumbs tracing over the sharp bones. He quickly repeats the movement with his tongue and all Rory can do is moan, his fingers flailing out and eventually settling in the Doctor's hair.
"You have the most beautiful skeleton." If it was anyone else mumbling the words into his skin, Rory would find the remark weird, even borderline creepy. But he knows that the Doctor is practically an authority on the different types of skeletons in the universe so he takes the remark as what it is intended to be: a compliment. A rather arousing compliment at that.
"Doctor..." Rory barely recognizes his own voice coming out of his mouth, all raspy and needy sounding. However, despite how desperate he sounds, the truth is that he doesn't actually want the Doctor to quit yet. He wants to hear that voice, hear it whispering the most wonderful, beautiful things until he can no longer think straight.
He wants the Doctor to talk to him until he can't help but beg for him.
"That voice of yours is dangerous," the Doctor whispers into the skin below Rory's navel, the words just loud enough to be heard. "Of all the things in this universe Rory, of all the things that could kill me, that voice of yours is top of the list." His lips press open mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin just above the waistband of Rory's trousers and Rory's hands drop to the bed, fisting the sheets so viciously that he thinks he might tear them.
"I would do anything for you, Rory Williams, so long as you asked me in that voice." Suddenly, he's crawling back up Rory's body, skin against skin (where'd his shirt go? Why does Rory care?), those damn fingers of his scratching gently as he presses against Rory's neck, nipping at already red spots.
"Anything," he repeats and this time, Rory actually shivers, shutting his eyes and considering all the implications hidden in that word. It's a dangerous word and Rory knows that the Doctor isn't lying; if he really wanted to, he could take control, could exploit the power he apparently holds over the Time Lord. He would never do that though, it isn't in his nature to but the fact that the opportunity still exists makes him feel so goddamn proud.
He stops thinking for a few seconds when the Doctor nips his pulse point. All he can do is yelp, his hips pressing upwards of their own accord. He still manages to catch the breathy word the Doctor gasps into his neck, but he doesn't recognize it as anything from the English language.
"Mine." Now that word he recognizes and he knows that they're getting close to the tipping point now, where the Doctor will stop speaking in anything but moans. His voice is deeper now, more primal and he punctuates the singular word with another bite to Rory's shoulder, creating a bruise that will linger for days.
"I want every single creature in this universe to know that you're mine, Rory." His fingers are pressing harder and harder and Rory can tell that the Doctor is just waiting, just waiting for the magic words to fall from his lips. But he isn't quite ready to say them yet; he wants more, wants to hear the Doctor promise and pledge and vow.
"Am I yours?" he manages to whimper, fingers scratching over already marked skin.
"You are my everything," the Doctor growls, pulling back so that he can look Rory directly in the eyes. "You made me feel, Rory, when I didn't think I could feel anything any more. You made me love again and you make me dangerous. If anyone hurts you, I'll turn into a monster but I don't care." His breathing is loud and heavy against Rory's lips and Rory thinks that his brain might be short circuiting.
"There's no one else like you, there's never been anyone like you, never been anyone as beautiful and warm and sexy as you and there never will be." The Doctor leans downward and presses his lips against Rory's hard enough to take his breath away. Rory kisses back for all he's worth, fingers gripping the longer hair at the nape of the Doctor's neck, his mind shutting off until there's only him and the Doctor and that's it. When the Doctor pulls away, Rory is panting heavily and the Doctor's eyes are dark with promises that he doesn't need to voice.
"I love you, Rory Williams."
With those words, Rory feels the remainder of his resolve break and before he knows it, the pleads are falling out of his mouth, the words tangling together in his desperation to get them out. He's falling apart in a jumble of I love you too and yours, I promise and pleasepleaseplease.
But it's okay, because with one kiss and one last murmur of beautiful Rory, the Doctor promises to put him back together again.