A/N In order to be extra cautious, I'm upping the rating to M due to this one chapter, but this chapter is heavily edited down with most physical descriptions taken out. It makes the emotions here difficult to adequately express when detached from the actions accompanying them, but the cost allows this to remain non-explicit. The complete, Mature version of this chapter is posted on my account at A Teaspoon and An Open Mind.
The Doctor is about to go further with Rose than ever anticipated, with lasting repercussions.
Chapter 25
The second the confession slipped past the Doctor's lips, his mouth was on hers again, barely affording her a chance to assimilate his words in the wake of his fervent actions. A spiraling wave of dizziness crashed over Rose with the realization that the Doctor was kissing her again with such passion, and the fact that this was actually happening between them, no holding back. Considering the years spent leading up to this, it was almost too much to comprehend all in a single moment, and the only thing she could do was hold on tight as a swelling river of emotion swept her up in its powerful current.
The Doctor's mouth left hers, only for his soft lips to brush across her cheek, her nose, each eyelid, her temple, before returning to her lips as the sensations he was creating within her spiked. Her hands went to his scalp, fingers threading through the thick chocolate strands of his gorgeously-tousled hair, attempting to hold on to him, to this moment, to her sanity as he drove her gloriously insane with his skillful tongue alone. He moved down to her neck and began to whisper into her skin between open-mouthed kisses. His voice was muffled and she could barely make out the words over the sound of her own heaving breaths. But then she caught the essence of his words spoken in hushed fragments.
The confession of his need for her, penetrating his defenses and penetrating her heart.
Hot tears stung her eyes as he repeated the words to her on a hushed breath.
Try as he might, the Doctor couldn't seem to stop this – to stop himself. That ever-present line of division between them was being obliterated, and even though the damaged and scarred part of himself he kept fiercely guarded was still warning him and sounding the alarm to retreat, in this one moment he was beyond resisting, beyond fighting, beyond trying.
After a moment, he stopped and eased back, heavy eyes locking onto hers.
Despite what was breaking free and passing between them, there was again uncertainty lurking in the depths of his eyes, and Rose sought to chase it away, lifting her head and tilting her face to press her parted lips to his.
When she eased back, the question in his eyes reached his lips. "Is this okay, Rose?"
She swallowed down hard. He really need not ask, but the question robbed her of breath just the same. Rose nodded, but he seemed to need more than this, so she forced the words of consent to her voice, uncaring if it sounded like a desperate plea. "Yes. Please, Doctor. I want this. I want you."
A ragged breath left his lungs as his lips descended back down to hers. Lifting up and bracing himself on one elbow, he lifted his hand and ran just the tips of his fingers down her arm, past her elbow, and encircled her wrist. He lifted her hand, cradling it in his. He eased himself up on his knees beside her and turned her palm upward, trailing a single finger down the smallest one of hers, back up to her palm and repeating the motion until he had traced each finger. He then lifted her hand to his mouth, wrenching a sharp breath from her lungs as each digit was taken into his mouth one by one and adored. This wasn't just about passion, Rose understood. These fingers were the first part of her he had ever touched, the first place they had ever joined as one when he took her hand in his and together they ran. This hand which filled the emptiness of his own was precious to him, and he gave the adoration that was due.
By the time he had finished his focused attention on just her hand alone, Rose was quivering, and he'd yet to even touch her more intimately. Rose wondered if she could remain coherent when he finally did.
He placed her arm back down and eased himself down on his side next to her, so close but not quite touching, as if those walls between them were still falling, but had yet to tumble all the way. For now, Rose managed to hold herself in check and let him take the lead, removing those barriers a stone at a time with careful precision. With intensity in his eyes, his hand drifted out towards her then. A solitary finger traced along the soft features of her face. She knew he was committing every inch of her to sacred memory, memorizing what he had thought could never be his, what even now she knew he feared could only be his for a breath; and she allowed him this.
"Doctor...," she whispered, half encouraging and half pleading. The intensity between them was becoming unbearable.
That single word drove him on. His traveling fingers moved again to places never before explored by him. Rose tried to focus on pulling air into her lungs as he traced circular patterns with his sensitive fingertips.
"You're beautiful, Rose," he whispered to her with the awe of beholding the first light a newborn star. "Perfect in every way, just as I always knew you were..."
The slightly coherent portion of her brain registered the meaning of his words, and she realized this meant he had thought of her in this way before, imagined what she would look like if revealed to him. That thought alone was enough to make her tremble, if his touch hadn't already elicited that very response.
The thought of this had never made it beyond the realm of her fantasies. As her fantasy became vivid, living reality, Rose realized her imagination had been an extremely poor substitute by comparison.
When Rose thought it was Zerin she would be marrying, she had known she would not give herself to him on this night. She just could not, and would have faced whatever consequences might have come for taking such a position. Yet now she freely gave this part of herself to the only man who had such a right to receive all that she was.
That man was currently liquefying her from the inside out with his eyes alone.
"Rose, look at me," the Doctor gently commanded, forcing himself to regain some shred of control. Her eyes flew back open and found his, dark and solemn. "Are you sure?" he asked, needing to know, or perhaps, she thought, looking for one last escape from this. But it was far too late for that – for either of them.
Rose nodded, her words a second later coming out miraculously stronger than she felt in this moment of dissolving. There had never been any question in her mind what she wanted. "Yes. I'm sure. I told you, I want this with you. I want to share everything with you."
She could see indecision still lurking in his eyes, yet unguarded longing and desire also flared within them like the striking of a match. He needed her as much as she needed him.
Being allowed this nearly broke him, shattering the tenuous remains of restraint. He breathed out her name, and it came out a rough and ragged plea. He claimed her mouth with his, consuming, yet both knowing this was an eternal hunger that could never be satiated. It was like he was a starving man and she was his only sustenance.
Almost in contrast to his desperate kisses, his hand moved to caress her, fingers moving with slow, rhythmic precision as he learned every millimeter. He was exploring so slowly, so meticulously, so gently, and Rose knew. She knew the reason for his lingering caress. Each touch he gave told the aching story. The language of his hands said this was the first and last time they would ever do this, and he was slowly burning this into his memory. He had given her his vows, and for Rose that was everything she ever needed. But he could never feel it was enough, while paradoxically being far more than he could ever continue to hold open his soul and give.
And the Doctor knew she sensed this – was connected just enough that she could. Every barrier, physically and mentally, was tumbling at an alarming rate, pulling them closer on every level. His mind which lived with the consuming ache of solitude could sense the very edge of hers, vibrant and magnetizing, leaving him entranced and yearning to join every part of himself with her. But he dare not delve further into this one place. Not ever. He knew what such a connection would mean if he allowed himself even just one touch of Rose's mind in this way. And how could this ever continue to happen between them and he not ultimately pour his soul into hers?
So he gave her what he was able to give on this one night. He gave her pleasure even as he caused her soul pain. He could never partake of her again and again and allow her to lose a little more of herself to him each time, just as he would lose himself to her until he feared there would be nothing left of either of them. She would be consumed by his darkness, while any life within him would be lost the moment hers faded – be it seconds or centuries from now.
With hot tears in her eyes, Rose took charge then, intending to make this one memory last forever. Later she would take time to form counter arguments to any and every fault-filled reason he might give to say this could never happen again or had been a mistake. She would fight to hold on to what was always meant to be theirs. But for now she would make him know of her love, not just with words, but with every touch and every breath and every ounce of her being.
Rose pushed against his chest until his mouth was forced to break away from hers, and he moved back as she braced her hands on both his shoulders and continued to push him up and away. He sat up fully, his breathing hard and uneven as he raked a hand through his wildly-disarrayed hair. The walls were erected again in his dark eyes as he looked at her with resigned acceptance, thinking she was ending this. He swallowed forcibly. "I... Rose, I...I'm sorr–"
Rose shook her head vigorously. She didn't give him a chance to finish those words or even harbor that thought long as she rose to her knees and made short work of what was left physically separating them, the swift movement surprising him enough that he mutely complied.
Her eyes mapped him before her hands and lips did the same. Her palms pressed flat against his chest, his hearts pounding powerfully beneath her. This was life, and she would make him see this is how they were meant to embrace it wholly and live.
She broke the kiss long enough to pull back and let her eyes drink him. This was him and only him, with the barricades and masks removed. He was so utterly gorgeous, and for tonight he was hers. They may never speak of this again. Their marriage might be rescinded and they would move on as if this never happened. But tonight, and if only for tonight, he was her husband.
Their passion reached a level of desperation as their eyes found each other's and locked wordlessly, and neither could stop what had been building between them since the word 'run.' He touched her cheek as he looked into her eyes, deep and bottomless. He touched her with such tenderness, as if she might shatter if he applied too much pressure.
He prayed he would not shatter her with his selfish taking of all she offered him, so much more than he thought he deserved; but there was no fighting this any longer. Not in this moment. Not for this night.
Rose opened her soul to him without hesitation, and their merging was a feeling of perfection to a degree which felt as if the only way to explain it was that each had been made to complete the other.
There was no retreating from this now, no ability to stop until this force between them found its overdue release. It was slow and at the same time frenzied. As if they had all the time in the world and only this night. Like it was the very beginning and the final end.
Rose forced her eyes open to look into his, finding his searing gaze burning into hers. "I...I love you," Rose choked out between jagged breaths, and any tenuous control the Doctor had fully snapped like dry kindling.
And he finally let go, powerless to hold back a single part of himself from this woman who had claimed her right to his hearts. In that moment, he let go of so much more than he ever intended. So much more than he thought he ever would or could give of himself to another. His mind was reaching forth out of the abysmal darkness that for so long had engulfed him and was now seeking light, seeking vital connection, seeking to be whole and refusing to be shackled. And it shook him to the very core of his being while at the same time drove him on, the option of turning back – of turning back from so much more than just this – disintegrating.
Time snatched flying seconds from the linear continuum surrounding them and made them slow, made this powerful moment of seeking and finding last, as a radiant golden Wolf howled in the center of a raging Storm.
The Doctor dropped his forehead to hers, now rapidly forging a connection in every possible way. Powerful, once carefully hidden and fiercely guarded words flowed from his mouth in a language she didn't know, yet the harmonious, mysterious syllables penetrated her very soul and gripped her heart, bringing a cascade of tears trailing down her cheeks as she received them – only for her.
Rose felt the first gossamer touch in her mind, like the fluttering of wings; then a tingling that grew to a consuming fire as the Doctor's words resonated through her being like a song reaching its crescendo. He lifted his head enough to look once more into her eyes, and she could see it. She could see the words he was not able to say along with the ones he had just given her, and Rose breathed her words of love again as she pressed her lips to his. In this moment they were fully one, and in this moment she had no doubts that this is how they were always meant to be.
The Doctor clung to her as if she was his last remaining hope, until finally there was nothing left to take or to give.
-:-:-:-
The Doctor lay motionless and hearts hammering out of his chest. He finally lifted his head to look into her eyes, his mouth parted and breathing still erratic. Rose tried to speak but her throat felt raw, the cry of his name still ringing in her ears.
He shook his head slightly, as if bidding her to remain silent, and touched his forehead to hers. She detected the sight of suspicious moisture in his eyes before he squeezed them shut.
Drawing in a long, galvanizing breath, he turned onto his back next to her. Rose turned on her side to face him. The dying embers from the nearly extinguished fire gave his skin an ethereal glow. The rising and falling of his chest slowed as his breathing returned to equilibrium.
Rose reached out and placed a hand to the center of his chest, and he shuddered from the touch as if she had burned him – branded him with her palm between his hearts. He turned his head to her. Rose was still feeling lightheaded, a tingling sensation in her mind that matched the tingling she still felt in every nerve ending of her body. His dark, emotional, tempestuous eyes searched hers, and she tried not to feel troubled by the fact that he didn't speak, because she didn't think either of them were capable of that just yet. What they had just shared surely spoke more than any words they had ever spoken between them ever could have.
The hushed seconds ticked past. The Doctor finally lifted his hand and reached towards her, the movement almost tentative. He stroked down her cheek with the back of his hand as the firelight caught and glinted on the surface of the silver wedding bangle around his wrist. On contact, the sparks of electricity crackled to life again on her skin, the sensation now feeling heightened and more acute than ever. Rose quivered intensely beneath his touch, the gesture somehow seeming as intimate as anything else that had just taken place between them. His hand fell away from her face, and a moment later he motioned for her to move towards him. Rose did, curling into his side as his arm came around her, both releasing a shuddering breath.
She was suddenly exhausted. Spent in every possible way. The last thing Rose was aware of before sleep finally pulled her under was the Doctor's lips brushing across her temple as something she did not yet comprehend, something ancient and powerful and permanent, flared within her mind at the touch, and she refused to accept that the words she heard him whisper were those of an apology.