So, low-ish M this chapter. Maybe high T? Either way, it gets a little heated here. Fair warning.
Chapter 9
John awoke feeling tingly and all sorts of happy. He had told Rose he loved her. She loved him. They had an amazing evening together the night before. It was only him working on grading papers while she helpfully stitched a loose button back on his jacket properly, but it was the sort of evening he would like to enjoy on a more permanent basis.
And that bliss seemed to have leaked over into his dreams since not only was Rose the Doctor's companion, but they had an adventure that wasn't full of danger as most of the Doctor's seemed to be. It was just the two of them, lying on their backs in a meadow on the ridiculously long coat the Doctor wore, watching the sun set in the sky as the scent of apples wafted around them.
Everything was happening so quickly with Rose. It had been three weeks, just three short weeks since they met, and he was completely in love with her. He had told Jack that sometimes, you just knew. But still, his friend's words had struck a bit of a chord with him. It was fast. Terrifyingly so. However, every time he saw Rose a sense of calm and serenity stole over him and he no longer cared that it was happening so quickly. There was no doubt that they loved each other, no doubt that they were unbelievably happy together, no doubt that they had lots of things to talk about and had many things in common. So really, what was there to fear or stop them from moving forward? He could think on it later.
With the knowledge that he would see Rose in just a couple short hours, he hopped out of bed and whistled as he started his day.
Timothy Latimer ran his eyes over the fob watch again as he reclined in his bed. Here in his room, he was mortified at his behavior. Stealing was not something he had ever done, and to have done it to a fair and kind teacher like Mr. Tyler made the shame more severe. But that watch had called to him. He couldn't explain it and he knew everyone else would think him insane, but he had distinctly heard the watch talk. Now though…it wasn't doing anything now except ticking away the time. With a sigh, he put it down to get up and get ready for classes. He could ponder the strange watch later.
Timothy Latimer regarded the watch that sat on his desk. Now that classes for the day were over and his homework was complete, he found himself staring at the intricate design on the cover, slightly mesmerized. "Listen to me," the watch whispered and the young man jolted at the unexpected sound. It hadn't spoken since he had taken it and he was beginning to fear he may have imagined the whole experience.
With trembling fingers, he hesitantly picked up the watch and took a deep, steadying breath before bringing it closer to his ear. The whispering increased in speed, until the voice from the watch was speaking at a normal pace, regaling Tim with stories of the Time Lord and his travels. After a few seconds, it became too much and he tossed the watch away from him, his breathing going ragged as his heart pounded furiously in his chest.
"Please listen," the watch pleaded.
"Why?" Tim asked. He felt foolish for speaking to an inanimate object, but maybe it would answer some of his questions.
"Please listen. I'll explain," the watch whispered again and Tim settled back in his chair. Better prepared for the speech this time, he pulled the watch closer and listened to the many stories the watch told him. His disbelief growing as he learned Mr. Tyler's secrets.
Rose was trying to concentrate on dinner preparation, she really was. But the sight just beyond her kitchen window was deeply unfair. She watched as John swung the axe down again, splitting another log in two. Something deep down in her belly wrenched at the sight and she quickly dropped her eyes to the potato she was supposed to be peeling and the one completely peeled potato in the pot next to her. Ten minutes into dinner preparation and she had peeled one lousy potato. 'Then again…,' she thought as she raised her eyes in time to see John's back muscles shift and flex – his shirt pulling tight – as he swung the axe. She figured she could be forgiven for being distracted.
She had managed to compose herself once he started gathering the wood into piles and by the time he came in, dinner was well under way. "Thank you for chopping more wood, John. Usually, Daniel Jacobs comes over to chop, but he's come down with a cold recently."
John frowned as he tried to cover up a twinge of jealousy. "Daniel Jacobs? Can't say I've ever heard of him," he went for nonchalant and missed by a mile.
Rose smiled at her daft man. "Daniel Jacobs is the fourteen-year-old grandson of Mrs. Jacobs down the street. Mum caught him trying to steal some bread one day last year so she cut him a deal. If he chopped firewood for us, she would give him two loaves a week as payment."
John flushed, realizing his jealously had been detected. "Ah."
Rose put her arms around his neck. Now that they had confessed to loving each other, she was no longer too shy to initiate some affection. "Ah, indeed."
Taking advantage of her semi-embrace, John pulled her closer and rested his chin on her shoulder. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath of her, and then exhaled on a contented sigh.
Rose pulled back slightly to place a kiss on his cheek and then pulled back further to look at him. "Feel better?"
John pouted and dropped his eyes to the floor. "Maybe."
Rose cupped his cheeks and pressed a quick, giggling kiss to his grinning lips. "I love you," she giggled out.
"I love you, too," John replied, grinning at her so widely his cheeks ached.
After dinner, Rose and John sat in her living room. As she helped him grade papers, he kept sneaking peeks at her. At times, she would twirl a lock of hair that had fallen loose from her bun as she looked over the papers. Other times, he would catch her chewing her bottom lip. Each time he was overcome with how beautiful she was. "I want to paint you," he blurted suddenly, startling himself as well as Rose.
"What?" She was looking at him with curious eyes, almost like she thought she didn't hear him correctly.
With pink cheeks, John plunged ahead. He did want to paint her, he was just surprised it had come out so abruptly. "I would like to paint you. If you would allow it."
He watched in fascination as a blush spread across Rose's cheeks. "Alright. If you really want to, that's fine," she spoke quietly, a bit bewildered.
John smiled as he gathered up the papers they had just finished grading. "Wonderful!" he exclaimed, now excited by the opportunity. He stood and started throwing on his coat and hat.
"Wait! Are you leaving already?" Rose was watching him with wide eyes, clearly dismayed by his impending absence. "It's still early."
John smiled tenderly as he stepped up to her. "I want to get paints before the shop closes. And then tomorrow or Thursday, I would like to paint you." John moved in to kiss her, the kiss chaste and sweet. He was terrified to let himself kiss her as he wished to do, knowing his control slipped when he did and worried it would completely snap if he allowed himself the luxury of a more passionate kiss. He murmured his love to her one more time as he hugged her close, smiling when the sentiment was returned. "Goodnight, love."
"Goodnight." Rose smiled as she watched him move off into the night, feeling incredibly lucky that such a wonderful and beautiful man wanted to spend time with her and loved her.
John had to prepare an exam on Wednesday evening so he returned to the school shortly after dinner with Rose. Both were disappointed their time together had to end so quickly, but understood it was a necessity.
Now on Thursday, John gazed at Rose as they quietly made the walk to her house from the school. He was excited to paint her, but was still trying to decide on a pose and a location. They walked along a section of the path that had a few trees still stubbornly clinging to their last few leaves and the sunlight dappling across Rose's face made for a stunning sight. For a split second, John considered painting her there, and then decided against it. He didn't want anything blocking any portion of Rose's face in this painting, even if the shadows made for an enticing image.
Rose opened the door to her house and motioned for John to enter first since he was carrying an easel and a large bag with painting supplies. After they removed their coats, Rose fiddled with her hands as she faced John. "Um, I have to admit I'm a bit nervous about this."
"Letting me paint you?"
"I just…what if I mess it up somehow? What if I can't stay still and throw everything off?" There was a tremor in her voice and John folded her into an embrace. His desire to keep her safe, from even her own fears, was an unstoppable force.
"Rose, if you need to shift or move, it's okay. You won't mess anything up, I promise."
Rose started to pull back to look up at him, but John made a small noise of discontent and tightened his arms around her. With a giggle, she slumped back into him and tightened her own hold. "I thought I was allowed to move," she mumbled teasingly into his chest.
"I meant during the painting. I'm not done hugging you, yet." John sighed happily as he leaned his cheek against the top of her head. His eyes fluttered open after another content moment of holding his beloved and were drawn to the window in the living room. It was a simple spot with a chair in front of it, a plant next to it and with the light streaming in, it was perfect. "I think I know where to paint you now."
He pulled back from the embrace, grabbed her hand, and led Rose over to the chair. He gently pushed her down and made a few adjustments to how she was seated and stepped back to admire his work. The setting sun streaming into the window cast Rose in an ethereal glow and John couldn't stifle the gasp that slipped out. "Beautiful."
Rose blushed and he spun around to quickly set up his easel. Rose tried not to fidget as he got everything ready. "Shouldn't we wait until after dinner?"
"No time." He had thrown on his glasses and was already mixing paints onto his palette at a furious pace. "That light won't hold out for long and I really want to capture you like this." He paused for a second as he realized that had come out rather demanding. In his haste to get started and not lose that light, his manners had seemingly disappeared. "I'm sorry, Rose. That sounded rude, but I didn't mean it that way. Are you okay with having a later dinner?"
Rose was blinking at him, a little distracted by the appearance of his glasses. She coughed slightly to regain her composure and managed a sweet smile for him. "That's fine."
John tried to hide his smirk at her reaction. Her love of his glasses amused him.
It seemed to her like hours had passed as John painted. Through it all, she managed to keep still and not shift, although most of her muscles were screaming at her to move. John had turned on the lamps some time ago as the outside light dwindled and faded completely. Finally, he set down his brush and palette and flexed his fingers. "Come look at it, Rose."
She gave a blissful sigh as she stood and her muscles all stretched in relief, circulation returning to some areas that had gone numb. John stepped back so she could stand in front of him and see the painting. She gave a little gasp as she took it in. With the backlight streaming in the window, she almost seemed to glow. John's soft lines and the way he had lovingly captured every detail of her appearance, making her so much more beautiful than she believed herself to be, brought tears to her eyes. "This is amazing."
John stepped up and folded his arms around her waist, molding himself to her back. "My muse is amazing," he countered, murmuring into her ear. "That's you, by the way," he whispered, enjoying the little shiver that ran through her when his lips grazed her ear.
Rose leaned back into him, closing her eyes and soaking in the feeling of him pressed to her so intimately. She turned in his arms and looped her own around his neck. "Thank you."
John responded by pulling his glasses off and kissing her. When Rose shyly ran her tongue along his lips, all of his noble intentions to keep it chaste flew out the proverbial window. He opened up for her and with every timid swipe of her tongue along his and every slide of her fingers through his hair, his control slipped a little further.
When she pulled away to gasp in some air, John grit his teeth and stepped back from her before she could kiss him again. "Rose, I'm trying to keep myself under control so that I don't ask for more than you're ready or willing to give. When you kiss me like that, it makes it incredibly hard to do so."
Rose bit her lip as she considered his words. She could understand, she honestly could. She felt the same way herself, sometimes, like if she continued to kiss him, she wouldn't be able to stop herself. And as much as she loved John, she had promised her mother a long time ago, that she wouldn't have 'those sorts of relations' until she was married. Just thinking of the hardships her cousin was enduring as an unwed mother helped Rose stick to her promise when things got heated with John, as they often did.
"I understand. I really do." She let out a shaky exhale and John shot her a smug smile, seeing the effect he had on her. "Shut up," she admonished with a grin. Her smile fell as she led him to the couch to sit while she explained.
"Six years ago, my cousin had a child out of wedlock. The only people who cared more about her and the baby than reputations, was her mother and Mum and me. The rest of the family just turned their backs on her. The baby's father has always claimed little Charles isn't his and won't help, even though he looks like an exact copy of him. After that, Mum made me promise I wouldn't go down that same path. So, I promised her I wouldn't engage in…certain activities…until I was married." Rose's blush was bright and pronounced discussing this with John. "That's why I can't and I keep asking you to wait."
She was going to stop there, but then she figured, in for a penny, in for a pound. "I want to. Believe me, it is so very hard to tell you to stop or to wait when that's the last thing I want to do. I love you, John. I want to share this with you and give myself completely to you," she felt John stiffen, but plowed ahead now that she was getting all of it out in the open, "but I don't want to have children out of wedlock." Her blush intensified to the point she thought she must either be purple, or her head was about to explode. She could feel the heat radiating from her face. "And well, if you do...you know…that…babies are a very real possibility."
Rose finally looked up at John only to see his normally chocolate-colored eyes were almost completely black and his breathing was just a bit labored. If the smoldering look he was giving her didn't melt the clothes right off her body, she'd be surprised.
"John?"
He leaned in and cupped her cheek. "Can I kiss you?"
Rose was a little confused, by both his demeanor at the moment and the question. "I told you before, 'always'. I meant that." She brought her hands up around his back. Kissing him was so much better when she could hold him.
His kiss was slow, languid, and not at all innocent. His lips connected with hers and moved slowly and patiently, gliding against her mouth to see which angles caused her fingers to clutch his shoulders tighter. The pressure increased gradually until he ran his tongue along her lips to coax her to open for him. As their tongues danced and the kiss gained intensity, John slowly began to lean forward, causing Rose to lean back until she was lying on the couch with her head supported by a throw pillow.
The position made her a little nervous, but then she scolded herself. This was John, and she trusted him to stop when she needed him to. Despite her nerves, Rose had to admit that having him lying on top of her and kissing her was the most erotic thing she had ever experienced. Not that it had anything to compare to. She was practically trembling as John's hands squeezed her waist and then she felt his thumbs tracing slow circles on her stomach. Even through the layers of her dress, she could feel the warmth of his hands.
She had to pull back from his kiss, dizzy from the lack of oxygen and her own surging arousal. Instead of pulling back himself, John moved his attentions to her neck, barely there touches of his lips and his tongue that had Rose's thighs quaking. "Oh, God." She threaded her fingers into his hair, intending to tug him away, but she was pretty sure she was holding him in place instead. "John," she breathed out, "we have to stop."
John softly bit down on her earlobe and spoke into her neck, so that his lips and breath ghosted against her skin with every word. "There are things we can do, Rose, that would be pleasurable without risking a pregnancy," he murmured, voice deep and husky.
She didn't know what he meant by that, but she trusted him. Rose whimpered and turned her head to catch John's mouth. She alternated between softly scratching at his scalp and squeezing his shoulders as her pleasure mounted. Instead of making the soft sigh Rose loved hearing when she played with his hair, John made a sort of growling, moaning noise that sent heat spiraling through her torso.
John's hand started to slowly move up from her waist and Rose silently begged him to do what it seemed he was about to do. As his hand gently closed around her breast and his thumb brushed the peak, Rose moaned softly. The fabric of her dress seemed to make it better as he was able to handle her a bit more roughly, the sensations muted by her dress. His hand continued to knead, thumb brushing until her nipple was hard and then carefully pinching and pulling it between his fingers.
Rose was so overcome with arousal that ideas were swirling and tumbling through her mind, fantasies and actions she wanted to do with John. But her nerves kept her from doing any of them. She wanted to grab John's bum, she wanted to push him down while she arched up, she wanted to touch herself in the burning area between her legs, more than that, she wanted John to touch her there. All these things she wanted, she would never do and never ask for because she was too shy to do so.
It almost seemed as if John read her mind as his hips rolled forward, seeking some sort of friction. Rose gasped and arched up as she felt him roll into her center.
The sound of her gasp and the sharp burst of pleasure shocked John enough to bring him out of his daze. He had no idea where this animalistic behavior was coming from. Logically, he knew how these things usually worked – that happened with a friend like Jack – but this was almost instinct and he was shocked at himself. He was always a gentleman around Rose, had always strived to be someone she could be proud to be seen with, had always craved her trust. She said she felt safe with him earlier and now he wondered if he had destroyed that. "Rose, I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me." He scrambled to try to climb up off of her, but Rose's arms clamped down, holding him in place.
"Don't go."
Rose was shivering with nerves and arousal and John felt terrible for doing this to her. "I'm so sorry, Rose." He cuddled her close, hoping just holding her would calm her down some. When her tremors subsided, John placed a soft kiss to her forehead and stood, helping her into a seated position.
With a glance at her kiss-swollen lips, mussed hair, flushed cheeks and darker than normal eyes, John clenched his fists and closed his eyes. "Rose, I love you. Please lock the door behind me and don't let me back in tonight." He grabbed his coat and hat and swept out the door.
