He left while Rose was coming. It was poetic, in a sick way, and he couldn't help that need to run. To always run. To keep running, even when a beautiful woman was giving him an amazing gift, he had to run. No where specific, just away. The Doctor who runs away. He hoped she would understand. She always understood on some level, it seemed. Run had been his first word to her. He had kept them running all that time, every day, right up until Yezzale.
The Doctor was sure, now that he thought it through, that Yezzale had been the problem. It was the first time they had slowed down and let their feet just walk instead of run. And as soon as they stopped running, well, that's when all this trouble had begun. He sat on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. He knew she wouldn't come looking for him. Knew he had spurred her too badly for her to want to find him. She was probably cursing him in every language that he'd taught her curse words in. It was better that she didn't find him right now. He was cursing himself, too. It had been his fault. He's the one that sent the text message. He's the one that mentioned her being naked. He's the one that went in that room and crossed the line from delicious flirting into actual real sexy stuff. I'm disgusting. The Doctor could have wept.
Clenching his eyes shut tight, he tried to clear his head. Needed a clear head. Needed Rose to get out of his head so he could think properly. Every time he tried to think about anything these days, there was his companion, barging into his mind and memories and distracting him. It was so pleasant at first. He loved thinking about her, and indulged in that wonderful giddy feeling he felt in his stomach. He let himself believe she had the same feeling in her stomach, and he told himself it was unique. That they shared something personal and special and unlike anything anyone else in the entire universe had ever experienced. But as the Doctor sat on his knees in front of that gorgeous, naked girl, watched her sticking her fingers inside herself while she stared at his naked body, it occurred to him that the feeling wasn't unique. It wasn't something that the two of them had invented. It was the oldest feeling in the world. It was lust.
His erection finally gone, the Doctor walked to his closet and dressed in fresh clothes, too ashamed to go retrieve his items from Rose's bedroom. She would surely be asleep now, but he dug deep and told himself that ignoring the entire incident was the only way that they could remain around one another. They couldn't keep crossing that line from mates to lust and back again without some serious repercussions. Dressed, the Doctor set about fixing his mind. There were drastic moves he could make, sure. He could override his memory bank and insert unkind things whenever he remembered Rose. He could classically condition himself to be repulsed any time he saw he bare flesh. He could take her home and go back to traveling solo. He didn't really want to do any of that, though. What he really wanted was to keep Rose Tyler close by and keep remembering her as the incredible and fantastic human being that she was without feeling the need to jump her bones so often. The Doctor decided on an old remedy for an old problem. Meditation. Setting the TARDIS into drift mode, the Doctor locked himself in his study and began a very long, 22 hours to be exact, meditation session. He would get these feelings under control so help him.
Rose paced the TARDIS console room. Her face was flushed, her hands sweaty, and her eyes wild. The Doctor seemed to be missing, but how could that be? They were floating in space! Rose had paced back and forth and then set out to find him. She had been to his bedroom, the kitchen, the pool, the library, all the bathrooms she could find (and she did that very carefully, mind you, with one hand over her eyes and her fingers spread just enough to see, as if the two of them had any reason for modesty), but she couldn't find the Doctor.
Where could he be? Scenarios flashed through her mind. She had looked every place that the TARDIS would allow her to look before she had returned to the console room in a panic. Maybe he was angry with her and had gone off on his own adventure alone, only to be captured or kidnapped or somethin'. Maybe he had been killed and the TARDIS was doing what she did, floating about away from the danger. Maybe he was somewhere aboard but hurt, unable to yell loud enough for her to hear. Rose choked on unshod tears and slammed her fist into the console.
"Where is he? Why won't you help me?" Rose pressed her face down on the controls, tears falling from her eyes and her breath ragged. The TARDIS seemed to respond kindly, caressing Rose's mind in a way she had never even know could happen. She felt calmer, though still scared, as the TARDIS seemed to lull her to sleep.
The meditation had done him worlds of good. The Doctor felt alive, rejuvenated, brave, clever, kind. He was confident that he could move forward with Rose as his mate without losing control again. He was sure there was nothing else could happen to taint that as he strode into the console room. The breath from his lungs came out in a gasp as he took in the sight. Rose Tyler was on the floor, her cheek pressed into the grating, her face covered in dried tears.
"Rose!" He crouched beside her, confused. "Rose, wake up!"
The little human lifted her head and met his eyes, and his body quaked.
"Doctor? Oh Doctor!" And her arms were around his neck, her face pressed into his shoulder as she sobbed. "I couldn't find you. I was so worried." Her words were choked and desperate, and the Doctor held her and tried to puzzle out what was wrong. He had been on board in meditation. Nothing had gone wrong. There hadn't truly been a reason to be worried like this.
"Rose, I'm fine. I was meditating, tha's all." He stroked her yellow hair with one hand and pressed his cheek against her head. "Why were you so worried? There was nothing to be afraid of."
Rose sniffed and looked up at him. Oh, her eyes. Always with those brown eyes. Wasn't there an Earth song about brown eyed girls? How could she be so full of worry and trust and fear and caring for the man who did what he did last night? She vexed him in a way that he had no tools to understand.
"I didn't know if you were okay. After last night... Oh, Doctor." And suddenly she was pressing her lips to his cheek, and his skin felt on fire all over again. She was kissing him on the cheek after what he did. She was showing him kindness that he didn't deserve.
"Rose, look, I'm fine. It's okay." His lips moved and the words came out, but Rose was busy. She was kissing his cheek and his neck and his throat and nuzzling her face against him. This was new. Why was she doing this? No one's life had been in danger, no one had hurt anyone. Wasn't she angry with him?
"Doctor, please. Please don't leave me again. Please don't ever do that again." Rose whimpered sadly, mashing her soft lips against the rough and stubbly covered skin of his neck.
"Rose, I...I left because I couldn't be there. Couldn't do that with you. It's not...it's not right." He said the words into her hair because he couldn't stand to say them to her face. Rose didn't move as he expected her to, though. She stayed put, her body pressed against his and her face buried in his neck.
"Doctor, you don't understand. It was right...it was the most right thing we've ever done."
There were no more words. Silence was so much easier where they were concerned. He just stood there and let her hug him, let her roam her fingers around his back and waist while she calmed herself down. The Doctor imagined taking her home and what it would feel like. He imagined putting her hand in Jackie's and saying goodbye. Just imagining it made him feel like he'd been kicked in the stomach, though. He tried to imagine telling her that he needed his space. That they could be mates and all, but she was going to need to start respecting personal space. Just the thought made him miss her touch, even though she was pressed up against him as he thought.
"I know you don't believe me, Doctor. It's okay. I believe it. And someday, you will too." She pulled back from him finally and looked up at his face. His wrinkly old daft face. His face that he wished he could change for her. His face that had seen such horrible things that it didn't deserve to see such a beautiful one looking back at him. He knew she was wrong. Everything about what they were doing was wrong, and he needed her to see that.
"Rose, it's not simple. We can't..." but she was cutting him off with her fingers. Rose pressed three fingers to his lips and shook her head. She clearly did not want to hear what he was going to say and that should infuriate him, but instead all he could focus on was the way her fingers felt against his lips.
"It's as simple as we want it to be, Doctor." Rose walked away. Down the hall, away from him. He was speechless.
Weeks passed easily. They went back to their adventuring. They saved worlds. They kept running, Rose always making sure that her hand was in his as they did.
In the first week, the Doctor tried to keep his distance. He continued to tell himself that it was wrong to lead Rose on when he knew there couldn't be anything between them, but she was persistent. Oh, he had to give her that. Rose Tyler did not just forget about things, and it became absolutely evident when she announced to a room full of uni blokes at a pub in London that she wasn't available, couldn't be available, not after what she had seen in the Doctor's pants. He had been so taken back by her flirty remarks that he'd chuckled along with the men slapping him on the back and buying him chips and ales.
In the second week, the Doctor let Rose get closer because she really was in charge of herself and seemed to do whatever she pleased, whether the Doctor tried to dissuade her or not. They never spoke of the things that had done those two nights, but Rose made sure the Doctor knew they were on her mind. While they were walking in a market in Rome, Rose suggested they get a hotel for the evening, but forget the separate rooms this time. He had immediately told her he thought he heard some danger from down the alley, grabbed her hand, and off they ran. Away. Always running away.
In the third week, the Doctor realized he was not in control at all. He was piloting the TARDIS and suggesting new places to go and ultimately saving the day, but he knew he was only doing it for Rose. He only did all of those things to see Rose light up, smile at him, admit that he was occasionally impressive. It was a slow realization. Three weeks and countless adventures and constant hand holding, but the Doctor was beginning to realize that every breath he took and every beat of his hearts, he was thinking about Rose. And that feeling...it couldn't just be lust. It couldn't be, because he hadn't allowed himself one inappropriate thought since he'd walked out her bedroom that night (which was quite a miracle, considering how much she had shown him), and if he still had that giddy and happy and longing feeling inside him without all the real adult sexy stuff, well. That feeling just couldn't be lust.
In the fourth week, the Doctor decided that since he was positively sure that the feeling wasn't just lust, and there was no way his feelings were being influenced by pheromones or alcohol or anything else, well then it might be okay to go back to indulging in those certain thoughts again. Now that he was sure.
"Off to bed, then?" His face was gentle as he led her to her bedroom. Rose nodded.
"Thank you for a wonderful day, Doctor." She opened her door.
"Anytime, Rose." And then she surprised him. Absolutely took him out of nowhere, after all it had been four weeks, when she leaned up and gently pressed her lips against his. It was their first kiss. He let her lips press against his for several seconds before slowly pulling back. He didn't want to start this, not right then, not yet. But oh, he loved that kiss. He loved the way she had to stand on her tip toes to reach up to him. He loved the way her hair had fallen away from her face as she craned her head back. He loved those big lips touching his, burning him from the outside in.
"That was nice." And he was being truthful. He let his big hand stroke the side of her face gently and looked at those eyes.
"Yeah, 't was." Rose gave him a brilliant smile and turned, went into her room, and slowly shut the door.
The Doctor couldn't stop grinning as he walked back to his bedroom. Oh, he didn't sleep. Wasn't tired in the least, but he couldn't go fumble around with gadgets right now. He had only just decided it was okay to indulge in those thoughts and then bam! She kissed him, and now there was no bloody sleep going to happen now.
The Doctor took a deep breath and began undressing. As he kicked away the last bits of his clothes, he stood in front of the full length mirror. He gave himself a very critical eye as he examined himself. Daft, terribly daft old face. The ears. The creases in his forehead. The bald head. But his shoulders were wide, better to support her with. And his chest was muscular and broad, and the skin was stretched taught. His legs were long, longer than normal, made him feel right trapped sometimes when trying to sit in chairs, but they were strong. A smattering of hair here and there. And his lips. The Doctor stared at his lips in the mirror and remembered Rose kissing him just a few minutes before. He wished he had been brave and kissed her back, but she didn't seem to mind. He ran his tongue over his lips, pleased to find a faint taste. Rose Tyler's kisses tasted like apple-grass He'd have to show her apple-grass some day. Kiss her in a field of it, even.
Thinking of kissing her again was all it took. His body responded, and the Doctor allowed himself to watch in the mirror with his critical glare. His cock stiffened and elongated, waking up from its slumber against his leg. The Doctor thought about Rose holding his hand earlier, and the way she had felt when he had to pull her out of the way of that cart, how she had ended up pressed against his body for a moment. There we go. His manhood stretched out and the Doctor took it in his hand and watched himself in the mirror. Did Rose really want this? Was he worthy of her?
After weeks without a thought of her, the Doctor could take no more. He needed her. Pushing away his guilt, the Doctor let the images tumble in. He remembered her lying spread out for him. He remembered her little fingers touching herself, and the way her mouth opened and made the shape of an O. The Doctor took his cock in his hand and began stroking himself ever so slowly. He watched in the mirror, fascinated. He remembered her beautiful breasts all pushed up over her bra, her nipples standing up while she played with them. He remembered the way she had pulled his zipper down, been so close to touching him but somehow hadn't. He kept pumping. He wished he were braver. He wanted to go to her, take her, fuck her on that pink bedspread and make her moan for him. He wanted to pound into her until she was the only thing he could feel. He wanted her to climax. To come. To find her pleasure wrapped around his cock.
He was pumping furiously now. His knees felt weak as he thrust into his hand, his hips running the show. His toes curled and he kept thrusting. He needed her so much. He imagined that his hand was her hand. He imagined little pink fingernails on her sweet and clever hands pumping him. He thought about those beautiful breasts, bigger than he expected somehow, sandwiching his cock between them. He imagined her standing up on her knees and him bending his knees slightly to make it work, and then thrusting into her tits again and again, hitting her in the throat with his cock.
When the Doctor came, he grunted savagely and fell to his knees. His hand still rubbing, he spilled his semen on the floor. The Doctor fell backwards against the foot of his bed, his breathing ragged.
"Look at me. I'm a bleedin' mess." He allowed himself several minutes of pity. He is the one that pushed her away, he is the one that walked out on her. She gave him every chance, and yet here he was on his own beating the ever loving daylights out of his cock while he watched himself in the mirror. Sick, sick old man.
He cleaned himself and the floor up before dressing in a pair of sweats. Rubbing his face and chest with a clean towel, he realized how much he needed that. Disgusting as he might be, he needed to release that. His body felt calmer, more in sync with the universe. Suddenly filled with joy, he wanted nothing more than to go see Rose. He knew she was still sleeping, but he had to see her.
The Doctor crept down the hallway, not sure who he was afraid of catching him. He was nervous. He hoped she was maybe a little bit awake. Maybe just enough that he could return that kiss. Give her some of what she had given him. He opened her door carefully and peaked inside. Rose was a ball of blankets in her bed, a leg sticking out over the edge, a hand above her head, her mouth open just the tiniest bit. She looked fragile in her sleep, and the sight shocked him. The Doctor had never watched Rose sleep before, though he had been curious a time or two and considered it, but the actual sight of the mighty Rose Tyler in dreamland sent a soaring bit of happiness to that...feeling.
He walked across the room and stood next to her bed. The same place he had stood the night that she pulled his zipper down for him. The place he had stood when she pushed her lacy fabric away and shown him absolutely everything. He took several deep breaths, had to keep those sexy thoughts away right now. Had to just see her, admire her.
Holding his breath, the Doctor sat down next to Rose. He carefully leaned back until his head hit her pillow, and then shifted to his side with as little movement as possible. Laying on his side in nothing but his sweats, the Doctor watched Rose sleep. He counted her breaths. He counted her eyelashes. He memorized the shape of her lips. He bit his own lip to keep from kissing her in his sleep. Oh, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted so much to wake her with his mouth, but he resisted, knowing it wasn't the right time.
He waited for three hours. Then he waited for another 39 minutes just to see if he could stand it. He couldn't. As the three hours and fortieth minute came to a close, the Doctor reached out and smoothed Rose's hair from her face. He stroked her cheek lightly and then pulled his hand back.
Rose stirred in her sleep. She heaved a heavy sigh and rolled to her side, facing the Doctor. Rolling over had caused the big pink blanket to shift, and Rose kicked at it until it was off her. The Doctor grinned as he saw that she was sleeping in an old white t-shirt. He had no idea where it came from, but it was hitched up around her waist and the Doctor couldn't stand it. He reached out and let his hand rest on her hip right above her knickers.
"Doctor?" Rose's eyes shot open.
"'ello." He froze, but didn't move his hand. Rose smiled at him sleepily. "I just came in to give you something." He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, sighing a little as he did. Rose responded, pushing back and opening her mouth, urging his tongue into her mouth. Their tongues swirled around as their lips pushed on each other, the kiss more urgent and needy than the one they shared in the hallway.
The Doctor pulled back suddenly, feeling himself close to losing control.
"Don't go." Rose looked panicked as he sat up on his elbow.
"'m not." And they were kissing again, him rolling into her. His arms snaked around her back and he held her to his body, her heaving chest pressed hard against his bare chest. That feeling was creeping into his mind again, and the Doctor couldn't stop. Had to taste her. His mouth found her neck, her ear. He sucked on her ear lobe and growled when he realized just how much she liked that. Her legs came up and hooked around the backs of his knees, and the Doctor found himself on top of her, his groin pressing into her. And he was hard again. Oh gods was he hard. Having not bothered with pants, the Doctor's cock pressed into Rose through the fabric of the sweats. Rose nipped at his lips as she ground her hips up and into him, her thin cotton knickers growing damp.
He knew he should stop, walk away, kiss her goodnight and continue this another time. Knew that the worst possible thing to do was rush into intercourse, but she was hot between her legs, he could feel the heat pouring into him. And she was making these little moaning noises that seemed to send pleasure right to his cock. And oh, Rose Tyler was holding him to her with her slender legs. The guilt was thick, but he tried to push it away. Tried not think about his broken moral compass or the Time Lord laws forbidding this sort of thing. He kissed her harder, desperate, trying not think about his dead people, dead by his hands, and their disapproval of him. The Doctor fought a war inside his head while Rose pulled on him, clawed at him, kissed him.
Rose was absolutely ecstatic to find the Doctor in her bed, and even more thrilled to find his cotton covered cock pressing into her. She moved her hips with him, creating a rhythm of rubbing. She kissed him, sucked his lips, bit his lips, licked his neck. She couldn't get enough of him and that taste. Oh, she had been dreaming about this. She had been praying for this.
His hands were knotted in her hair and hers were wrapped around his neck as she felt herself growing more and more needy. She needed him inside her. She had seen what he had behind those sweats, and she wanted it. Bucking her hips upwards, Rose rolled them over. He grunted in surprised, and Rose sat up on him, his erection standing up in his pants in front of her. Looking down at him, at those brilliant blue eyes, Rose saw hesitation. She was the one in control. She was the one literally sitting on him. And it frightened him. And a frightened Doctor was terrifying to Rose.
Rose slowly pulled one of the Doctor's hands up to her breast, molding his fingers around her through the t-shirt. Her knickers were soaked through, but she knew if they did this, if they got naked and fucked the way she desperately wanted to, it might be the last time. Summoning all of the control she could manage, Rose began rocking her hips, rubbing her clothed clit against the Doctor.
"'s just like high school. Good ol' fashioned dry humping." She grinned down at him and pulled his other hand to her waist. He immediately slipped his hand under the shirt so that he could touch her skin. His large hand felt like fire on her hip, but she couldn't focus.
"Nothin' ol' fashioned about you, Rose Tyler." His hand pressed into her hip, grinding her down, She took both of her hands and lowered his sweat pants enough that his erection sprung free. She took him in her hands and rubbed up and down while pressing him against her knickers. The friction from the fabric wasn't perfect, but she was getting close, and oh god, she loved the velvety feel of him in her hands. He squeezed hard on her breast, getting her attention. They locked eyes and sped the movement up. She rocked forward and he rocked up, and together the friction drove them wild. Rose kept her hands moving up and down on his cock, while he kept his fingers kneading her breast and pinching her nipple.
"'m gonna...oh, Doctor. I'm gonna..." and Rose pressed her fingers hard against him, pressing him against her pulsing spot while she threw her head back, a moan echoing in the room. The Doctor sat up suddenly, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face into her neck, sucking on her collarbone.
As Rose came down from her orgasm, she furiously began pumping the Doctor's very stiff member that was still in her hands. She captured his lips then, and they kissed hard. Teeth against tongue against lip against teeth again, smashing against one another as she jerked him again and again and until finally he came. His body stiffened and he locked eyes with her, their mouths still connected. His seed spilled over her fist and against his stomach but it didn't matter.
They sat very still. Eventually Rose moved back, released his now soft penis, and stood up next to the bed. She walked to her en suite and back, carrying a wash cloth. The Doctor raised his eyebrows as he leaned back, giving her his best puzzling expression.
"Shh now, no arguin'." Rose moved the warm damp cloth over him, cleaning away his mess. When she was finished, she tossed it towards a basket and leaned down, planting gentle kisses on his abdomen. Rose curled into his arm them, resting her face against his shoulder and drifting off to sleep. The Doctor played with her hair while he laid there. Rose felt how tense he was, how his body was so far from relaxed she wondered why he didn't just jump up and leave. There was a buzzing, or maybe a humming? His body was vibrating very gently below her cheek.
"'Wha's wrong?" Rose didn't look at him while she asked. Knew she would find pain in his face if she looked, so she kept her cheek planted and hoped that he would have the courage to tell her.
"I'm not just another bloke, Rose. This is going to take...time. Lots of time." His body kept humming to her, and Rose had the strangest image in her mind of a tightly wound coil. "I want to give you so much, but..." his voice reminded Rose of thunder and storms. Suddenly the Doctor shifted and stood up, placing Rose on the bed. She didn't resist. Somehow she knew he was about to do it. She knew he could only take so much of this sweetness and gentleness before his body rebelled.
The Doctor gave Rose a sad look. "You're fantastic." He turned and walked from the room. Rose let go of the breath she had been holding and rolled to her side. Oh, Doctor. Rose dreamed of Yezzale that night. She dreamed of hot rain and jagged looking mountains and wonderful orange trees.
A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you to the people reading this. Started off just wanting to write some smut, but somehow a story got lodged in here too. More sexy smut in the next chapter, promise. Let me know you're reading or what you think so far by leaving a review. I do so love those. If you're a graphic person like me, check out the tumblr for images to accompany each chapter. xoxo Emmy
