Rose has let him think that she forgot his "birthday." Of course, his actual day of birth is not so easily measured in Earth time- especially not in the alternate universe they reside in- but they've picked a day to celebrate him, the metacrisis, a private holiday just for the two of them.
Rose goes about the day normally enough. They head to the Torchwood tower where they both work- Rose as a field agent and the Doctor down in the labs- and they come home in the early evening as usual. The Doctor doesn't say a word about the significance of the occasion, but Rose can tell that he's privately a little hurt that she's forgotten their yearly tradition. She'll fix that soon enough.
They eat dinner; it's something that the Doctor likes, but it's not his favorite... No, that comes later- not that the Doctor knows this, of course.
After dinner, Rose feigns exhaustion and they retire to bed earlier than usual- this is the first deviation from their normal day. They don't always go to bed at the same time; it isn't terribly unusual, however, for one to tire more quickly than the other but for both to lie down together for a quick cuddle before one falls asleep. Rose leads the Doctor to believe that this is the case on his birthday. He clearly has more energy than she's pretending to have, but he follows her to their bedroom willingly enough and lays down next to her after stripping from his work clothes and into his pyjamas.
Rose waits a while until she's sure he thinks she's asleep, and then she rolls slightly so that her hand lands on his abdomen. He fails to see that anything is amiss, and she smirks into the darkness. She slowly begins stroking and feels a smug satisfaction when she notices his muscles clenching involuntarily as her hand moves lower.
"What are you doing, Rose?" The Doctor asks, his voice sounding oddly strangled.
"You didn't really think I forgot your birthday, did you?" Rose asks, her voice full of mirth, not stopping her movements.
"Well, I-" the Doctor's voice drops away as Rose's hand brushes lower, and she chuckles under her breath.
"Shhh," she coaxes, leaning up to whisper in his ear. "Relax, love. Let me... give you a birthday gift." She wants her voice to sound seductive, but it doesn't- she knows he can hear her smile. That's who they are, she reflects. They're too annoyingly happy sometimes... Her mother jokes that once the part-human Doctor joined Rose in Pete's world, they entered a puppy-love sort of bliss and they've remained teenagers ever since. They know that as much as Jackie teases, she's glad to see them so thoroughly happy after everything they've been through.
Rose's inability to lose her smile this evening doesn't seem to bother the Doctor, either, because he squeaks "okay," and falls against the pillows, relenting. Triumphant, Rose is smirking again as she shifts to kiss him.
She's entirely focused on his pleasure tonight. It would be wrong to say that she's usually a selfish lover, but as a general rule, she likes to work toward her own ending as well as his; this is not the case tonight. Tonight, she's doing everything that he loves, even if it's the sort of thing that won't drive her to completion. It doesn't matter, because watching the Doctor slowly fall apart is breathtaking.
As she kisses him, her hand lowers to his boxers and slowly caresses the growing bulge she finds there, eliciting from the Doctor a grunt that is muffled by Rose's lips. His hips jerk up into her hand so suddenly that Rose thinks the movement is unintentional, and she grins into the kiss, making her motions a little more firm.
She must be doing an admirable job of getting the Doctor riled up, she thinks, because it isn't long before he starts seeming breathless. She gives his mouth room to breathe, instead leading her lips on a leisurely path from there to his throat. This is something that has always driven the Doctor to distraction, neck kisses, and Rose has spent a long time perfecting the art. She's rewarded with increasingly needy gasps flowing from the Doctor, and his hips start moving toward her hand with more frequency.
Giving herself time to breathe as well, Rose pulls away from his skin for a moment and focuses on pulling his boxers down his legs, flinging them carelessly off into the darkness. He whines slightly at the loss of both lips and hands, but he quiets once she places her hands back where he wants them. Thanks to the heat of the unusually warm autumn night, the Doctor has chosen to sleep in his boxers and nothing else, and at the moment, Rose is very grateful. When the boxers are gone, the Doctor is naked before her, and even though it's too dim to really see him, she certainly appreciates how he feels beneath her hands.
As her hands work him below, she places her lips on his chest, moving south in a slow pattern designed to let the Doctor know exactly where she's headed. She gets there eventually, and by the time she does, he's quivering beneath her.
She lets her hands fall briefly to his thighs as she lowers her mouth slowly over his tip, and he groans. She begins sucking as she goes, simultaneously pressing the tip of her tongue against the cock's sensitive underside. The effect on the Doctor is immediate. One moment, he's relatively relaxed against the mattress, but the next, he's straining up against her lips. She starts humming... The vibrations have always driven him mad, and tonight is no exception.
Her hands ride up to assist the work of her mouth; one joins her lips and tongue on his cock, rotating around the base so that even the part that doesn't fit in her mouth is getting attention. The other cradles his balls, and it's there that she starts to feel the telltale tightening that warns of impending release. She slowly backs off, releasing him with a small, wet pop, and rises far enough to look at his face. Her eyes have adjusted to the dark by now enough to see that his eyes are shut and his expression makes it look almost as if he's in pain, but he cracks an eyelid to look at her when she clears her throat.
"Do you want to come in my mouth, or do you want to be inside me when that happens?" she asks.
The question seems to clear the fog in the Doctor's brain, because his eyes open the rest of the way and his expression turns guilty. "I haven't done anything for you at all," he murmurs. "I should-"
"Stop," Rose commands softly. "Tonight is about you. Don't worry, I'll take care of myself later- you can even watch, if you want," she adds cheekily, giving him a saucy wink. "For now, though, what do you want? Don't think about me."
He concedes after a second's hesitation- he must be really close, Rose decides- and nods. "In your mouth?" he asks, almost shyly. It's rare to get him to focus entirely on himself, and Rose is pleased that he hasn't tried to spin this so that she gets something out of it, too.
Without making him wait any longer, she returns her mouth and her hands to where they had been, and within thirty seconds, the Doctor is crying out and arching up into her mouth. He comes hard, in spurts, and she is careful to swallow all of it because she knows that's what he likes, even though he would never actually ask her to.
When he begins softening against her tongue, she releases him and climbs up his body to rest against him. His arms encircle her and he presses her tightly to his slightly sweaty chest, emitting a satisfyingly contented sigh. "I love you," he mumbles, managing to sound both completely exhausted and completely fervent. "I don't deserve you. I love you," he repeats.
Rose can't hold back the chuckle that bubbles up in her throat, and she squirms up to kiss him. He returns the kiss with everything he's got, and she thinks it's his own taste on her tongue that makes him smirk proudly.
Eventually, Rose pulls away again. "There's another surprise downstairs," she informs him, "but if you're too tired for it..." She trails off, baiting him with a challenge.
The Doctor clearly debates with himself for a moment before sighing and sitting up. "You kill me, woman," he grumbles, but there's no real malice in his voice. Rose giggles and climbs out of bed to rediscover his boxers, which she returns to him. Once he's got them on, they trek downstairs, Rose leading him to the kitchen.
She pulls a freshly made banana pudding out of its hiding place, presenting it to her husband with a flourish. His face lights up completely, making him look almost childish with glee. "You made this for me?" he cries joyfully, lunging forward to simultaneously kiss Rose's cheek and take the dessert from her hands.
She smiles indulgently, nodding. "All yours," she agrees fondly.
The Doctor eats two thirds of it in one go. In between bites, he prattles on about the history of banana pudding in Pete's World versus their first universe, and Rose listens dutifully, nodding along and trying not to laugh at how ridiculous he is. Eventually she can't help it, though, and in retaliation, he sets aside his pudding to leap at her, covering her face with sticky kisses. She's not so fond of banana pudding herself, but when the sticky kisses finally land on her lips, she definitely doesn't complain about the taste.
Afterwards, they collapse on the sofa, both sleepy enough to actually go to bed but neither willing to give up the celebratory mood of the last hour or two. Rose lazily turns on a film, and while neither really watches it, the background noise is a pleasant hum.
Rose is leaning into the Doctor's chest, staring idly off into space, when she realizes that she feels quite fidgety and tries to determine why. It only takes her a moment to decide that she's still aroused from earlier, and now that the distractions of bringing the Doctor to orgasm and then presenting him with the pudding (honestly, she can't say with certainty which activity he enjoyed more), her body is reminding her that she didn't have a release of her own earlier in the night.
She slowly slips one hand down between her legs to rub herself through her pyjama bottoms. She stifles a hiss at the sensation and rubs a little harder. The Doctor doesn't seem to notice; Rose glances at his face to see him staring at the tv with an intensely focused look on his face, and she's not sure what he's thinking about, but she knows it isn't the episode of Eastenders that's playing on the telly.
She gives a mental shrug and gives up on him for the time being, focusing on the waves of pleasure emanating from the area receiving attention from her right hand. Eventually, it becomes clear that the friction through the fabric isn't enough, so she slips out of her pyjama bottoms and her pants in one go, sliding them down her legs and letting them fall to the floor.
Only then does the Doctor notice what she's up to, and his eyes widen. "Rose, what are you doing?" he asks, and just like the first time he asked that question this evening, his voice sounds funny, as if his throat has suddenly tightened. He watches her part ways with her pyjama top, too, and she can see him swallowing.
Rose slips a finger into her slit and moans before answering. She manages a smirk through the delicious haze of pleasure, and just like before, she answers with a question. "I told you I'd take care of myself, didn't I?" she asks.
The Doctor doesn't answer, seeming quite mesmerized by the sight of Rose's finger sliding in and out of herself. Despite the smirk, Rose feels a little shy; she doesn't do this often, and it's even more rare that she lets the Doctor watch.
She forgets about him after a minute or two, though, and adds a second finger; her other hand ghosts up to idly play with a nipple. She tries not to censor her noises, knowing that the Doctor likes to hear her- dammit, didn't she just put him out of her mind? She shuts her eyes firmly to block him out, and as a consequence, she's quite surprised to suddenly feel his breath on the fingers of her right hand and the apex of her thighs.
"What are you doing?" she squeaks, and this time, it's her turn to feel off balance. "This night is about making you happy, not me," she reminds him breathlessly. "I was just, ya know, taking care of business so I can sleep once we go to bed."
He grins up at her, inches away from her heat. "This will make me happy," he says roughly, and lowers his head, his fingers gently pulling her hand away to make room for him. He's about to touch his tongue to her clit when he suddenly stops and looks up again. "I mean, if you want me to, of course," he adds sheepishly.
In answer, Rose threads the fingers of one hand through his hair and tugs him closer. He grins and licks up her slit without hesitation this time, causing Rose to cry out.
This body of his has always been incredibly tactile, especially when it comes to the tongue and the Doctor's oral fixation, and it really shows when he uses his mouth to assist Rose. He does a truly thorough job of making her need more without actually letting her have it, and in no time at all, she's whining and begging, and she can feel him smirking, dammit.
She's about to lose her mind when he suddenly pulls away with no warning, forcing a disgruntled noise out of her throat. The torture may be detrimental to her sanity, but she is not interested in having him stop. He's already stopped and is wriggling up her torso, though, and to her surprise, he looks nearly as desperate as she feels.
"I need you," he whispers, and Rose lunges up to kiss him. They're still kissing when he takes himself in hand (up until this point, Rose has not noticed that the Doctor took off his boxers again) and pushes in slowly, causing them both to groan. Their lips separate as the Doctor begins to move.
Neither has much patience for a slow and torturous pace tonight, so instead, the Doctor sets a punishing rhythm that has Rose's toes curling. Somehow her legs end up wrapped around him without her ever having told them to move, and her heels dig into his lower back as she lifts and lowers her hips in time with his thrusts.
When Rose realizes that the Doctor isn't far off from coming for the second time tonight, she removes one of her hands from his biceps and slides it between their bodies instead, gasping as it reaches her clit. "Doctor," she whines, and he increases the pace, moaning low under his breath.
Rose comes before the Doctor does, her muscles clenching around his cock as his movements become increasingly erratic. Her entire body tenses and then releases deliciously, and she has to fight not to go entirely limp, since the Doctor is still going.
She has almost become too sensitive by the time the Doctor pulses inside of her ten seconds later, and she whimpers as she feels him release. He yells her name as he comes. He then falls against her and she feels slightly crushed, but it's the single most comforting feeling she can imagine, being slightly crushed by someone who loves her.
For some indeterminate amount of time, they lay there panting, their bodies slicked together and sweaty and warm. Finally the Doctor pulls out of her, passing Rose a number of lazy kisses to the junction of neck and shoulder as he goes. He maneuvers them so that he's reclining against the sofa and she's resting on his chest, and for a long time, neither speaks.
"Time Lords don't celebrate birthdays like humans do, being that they have so many of them," the Doctor says finally, with no context. Rose nods uncertainly, unsure of where he's going with this. "This is one of those times that I don't mind being part human," he informs her, grinning, and she laughs.
"Happy birthday, love," she answers, nuzzling a little closer to him, sleepy and happy. Pressed against his chest as she is, she can feel his singular heartbeat, and now that they've caught their breath, it's slow and soothing. Given the exertion of the evening, it's no wonder that Rose is drifting off against the Doctor.
She wakes sometime later to find herself moving. She forces her tired eyes back open, bemused, and figures out that the Doctor is carrying her from the sofa to their bedroom upstairs. They're both still entirely bare, and the sweat has dried and the house has cooled as the temperature outside has dropped, leaving Rose chilled and slightly shivery. The Doctor notices that she's awake just as he passes through the bedroom door, and his expression is tender when he smiles down at her. "Sleep, Rose. You've earned it," he says with a low chuckle, his voice soft and uncharacteristically measured.
There's nothing Rose has ever loved more than hearing the obvious affection in his tone when he says her name, and her eyes drift shut again.
He tucks her into the bed like a child, and she burrows deeply under the blanket. Once she's settled, the Doctor lifts the corner of the blanket and slides in next to her, draping an arm over her waist and pressing a kiss to her hair. He watches her transition from being half-awake to being completely asleep, and he finally closes his eyes, as well.
No, he doesn't mind this human thing so much at all, he thinks (not for the first time)... Not as long as he has Rose to do it with him.