Notes: Here there be smut and angst. Also language.

Curiosity

Chapter Two

She gasped as he took the lead and for once, she didn't fight him. He'd made his point and it was time to give him what he desired so very much. She was in the business of pleasure after all. And he had her all night.

She glanced over at the clock and saw it was nowhere near close to dawn when he would be escorted out. No, he still had several hours left… which meant eventually she could regain control. Part of the battle is knowing when to fight and when to allow it.

Then fuck me, Doctor, she challenged, hooking her legs around his waist and pulling him deep, deep, deep inside her wet core. Fuck me until you fill me with your seed and then keep going. I want to see how long you can go… C'mon, Doctor. Chase your release and don't hold back.

He growled deep in his throat, inside her mind; lifted his head from her shoulder to meet her challenging gaze. Oh, I will fuck you until you won't be able to walk straight, but right now… Deliberately, he pulled halfway out and then began a slow, languid rhythm. Cool lips covered hers; he begged entrance with a swipe of his tongue. I want to please you, he whispered across her mind. Just this once, a chroi, give into me.

Please me? she projected back, a bit of a tease in her inner voice. She flexed her inner walls around his swollen length, holding him deep deep in her channel. The reaction he gave her to that made her smirk proudly. You already have pleased me this evening, Doctor. D'you not remember how hard I fucked you on your back? She squeezed him again with her inner walls, somehow drawing him further inside. Please me, Doctor. Make me cum harder than I've ever cum b'fore. Make me cum so hard the whole building shakes…

He said nothing, just allowed his emotions to flood over their mental link: pleasure, anticipation, what he supposed humans would call love—there was a word for it in Gallifreyan, but it didn't exactly translate into English.

His mouth nuzzled at the hollow of her throat as he continued his slow movements in and out of her slick heat. Is that all you humans think about when it comes to pleasing your partner—your physical release? He couldn't help it if he sounded slightly irritated, but the irritation vanished as he slid his consciousness alongside hers, teased and caressed with intertwining, barely-there mental touches. There are times when I need more than that, my Lady. Phantom hands brushed over her bare skin, ghosted down her body.

Earlier you wanted me to prove to you how much I loved my Rose, he reminded her. So let me show you.

That's what all clients want first, she explained. Their release and the satisfaction of giving me mine. 'S rare when a client wants more than that…

A small moan, accompanied with a shiver, came when she felt his awareness questing and mingling with her own. It would bring one hell of a headache later, having not used this portion of her mind for many years. But she couldn't stop him… it felt so good to feel him both within her heat and her head.

Yes… she begged, back arching, her head falling back further to give him better access to his throat. For once, just this one time, she would let go her control… allow him to (make love to her) give them what they both needed. Show me, Doctor. Let me feel all of you. …

His sense of relief flashed over their mental link; then he was taking her silent invitation to explore her throat in earnest. When he was done, he lifted his head and brushed a kiss over her forehead, then hovered centimeters over her mouth. Kiss me, he whispered, punctuating his request with a roll of his hips on his next thrust. Please.

(She insisted that she wasn't Rose, wasn't his Rose, but her mind was the same, felt the same except for the presence of Bad Wolf; ergo, she was Rose. No matter how much he'd changed since Bowie Base One and the Time Lords' very brief return he still— Rassilon, even inside his own head he couldn't say it, and he supposed he owed that little hard-to-break habit of his to both Fitz Kreiner and Charley Pollard.)

The Lady responded, craning her head up to catch his mouth with her own. It's deep, heated, passionate. I need you t'move, Doctor, she pleaded, reminding him that he was fully sheathed in her heat and still. She rolled her hips to get the point across, but the combined feeling of filling and being filled by him suddenly overwhelmed her awareness. Suddenly, she didn't know where she ended and he began. They were one body, moving in time together through waves of pleasure.

He gasped into her mouth as she rolled her hips; couldn't stop kissing her as he moved in and out of her heat. Like her, soon he no longer knew where they separated; and even if he wanted to retreat back into his own mind… he wouldn't.

Through their link he murmured to her in Gaelic, sent her his feelings and impressions. It wasn't quite a bond, but if he wasn't careful… he could very well end up accidentally binding her to him—and he knew she wouldn't appreciate that at all; besides, it wasn't his place, she wasn't his Rose, and he'd be gone in the morning, was only here for one night…

Lady couldn't help the wanton moans that fell from her lips as he claimed her. At some point through their time together she forgot who she was and started to think of herself as Rose again. Perhaps it was because she gave him access to her mind, perhaps not… She couldn't be certain of anything anymore, just that he felt so fucking good buried deep in her hot channel and she was nowhere near done with him.

It was so much.

And never enough.

And he was so perfectly made to fit her, like no other man in any universe could be.

Golden light began to emanate in her mind's eye and she followed it, chasing their combined release.

Yes.. yes, Doctor… I feel you… she projected. More. I need more. I need t'cum.

Then let go, a chroi, he murmured, lifting his head to look at her as he slowly rolled his hips on his next thrust deep inside her. Cum for me. I need to see you, please. …

Old High Gallifreyan tumbled from his lips, his tone desperate, as he drove into her again and again, determined to lose himself in her—body and mind: I need you, I need you, I need you; don't ever want to leave you again, Rose. Can't lose you again. Please, pleasepleaseplease forgive me, let me stay…

He couldn't quiet his sudden desperation, couldn't stop it from flooding through their link—didn't want to stop it. She was Rose, which meant she was his, and even though he could feel her pleasure through their mental bond he couldn't quite sense her emotions… (Which wasn't fair, really, or so he thought.)

And he wanted to climax with her (or as close as possible, anyway), wanted to see her as she fell…

Normally she would punish him for calling her by her proper name and not Lady. But the tone in his pleading was enough punishment for this Time Lord. He'd reached his breaking point and it was only too soon that he'd finally release, whimpering and wailing for her.

But that small part of her that was still Rose was bleeding for him. Begging for him, pleading that he would be her Doctor. It mattered not that he was someone else, that he wasn't her Doctor at all but a darker alternate version of the one she loved. He felt like the Doctor, made love to her like the Doctor had, spoke to her in that same silky tone and her body was responding in the same way.

Her climax came before she could warn him. Her whole body arching up as she cried out his name. His proper name… the one only a wife would know. A musical and magical language no human should be able to speak… but she wasn't human anymore…

The feel of her body clenching around him, arching toward him; the sound of her crying out his true name… It was enough to send him over. He groaned low in his throat, silently called out her name in his native language as his own climax swept over him. At last, sated and struggling not to let his respiratory bypass kick in, he rolled over onto his side, wincing slightly as the action caused him to slip from her body.

Still, he nestled close to her, wrapped one arm around her waist and propped himself up on his other elbow. He slowly kissed her throat, her mouth, before hovering close to her ear. "Tell me you still love me," he whispered—pleaded. (Rassilon, what was it about her, about that face, that drove him to this? To begging like a common ape that didn't possess telepathy.) "Please, Rose, I need to hear you say it. …"

His hearts beat faster, then slowed, threatened to sink down into one of his stomachs. If she said she didn't, if she was going to punish him for this…

No, he had to get this right, had to, had to, had to…

The loss of him from her heat elicited a sad moan. She was still swimming through the combined sensation of their link and for a moment the words almost come flying from her mouth until her amber eyes lock on his…

"Does it need saying?" she whispered, though not at all unkindly. There was remorse, real true, honest remorse in her voice. It was not that she didn't want to say it… it was that if she did… if she let those words slip from her mouth and into his ears it would be her undoing.

She had all but given up her feelings for the Doctor. Any Doctor. And certainly not this one that was more terrified of her than she of him. She was not his Rose… she never would be…

His head jerked back at that; his gaze met hers, hurt, wounded, before anger crept in. Then he sighed, and just as quickly it had appeared the anger and hurt vanished from his eyes to be replaced by resignation. "No, I suppose it doesn't."

The hand on her waist almost absently began to glide down her hip, the outside of her thigh before moving back up to its original position and starting over again. Without really thinking about it, about the consequences, he tilted his head, touched his forehead to hers, closed his eyes as their link flared at the contact.

Rassilon, even this managed to make the aching silence in his head more bearable, yet he couldn't help noticing just how subdued her emotions were, could sense something in her mind like a gaping hole… but he didn't want to go there, didn't want to pry any further. He respected her, loved her (she is Rose, his brain kept insisting) too much for that; and besides, his own psyche wasn't the best picture of mental health or stability either.

His own feelings, emotions were raging, more than enough to make up for hers, and it was a struggle for him to control them, to keep from overpowering hers.

It seemed to him like he'd been in her mind for several spans, yet when he broke the link only a few seconds had passed. He stared at her for a moment, silent; then, quietly, calmly—too calmly: "You can't tell me that meant nothing to you, my lo— Lady."

Oh… she caught that… that slip of the tongue that almost ended in him spilling his hearts to her finally. But she wasn't at all surprised he didn't follow through with that statement.

"Is that what you want me t'say?" she asked causally. "'Cause you and I both know what'll happen if I say anything you want me t'say, Doctor. This is who I am now… this is what I do. I make a living givin' pleasure t'men that need it. And sometimes women. If I told every client what they wanted me to tell 'em I'd be out of business."

"Yes," he said in answer to her question. Then: "No. I don't know." He sighed in frustration and raked one hand through his mess of chestnut hair. She was right, much as he hated to admit it—not that he'd ever say it out loud.

Brown eyes shut then snapped open, bored into hers—and he wasn't sure what she saw in his eyes, didn't want to know. He shifted so he was partly above her, lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply. Eventually he broke the kiss, pressed his lips to just beneath the hollow of her throat, then her collarbone.

"Tha mo ghion ort," he whispered against her skin, knowing she wouldn't be able to understand him—and it was so, so hard for him to say it in English. "Mur eil nas leòr ann, chan aithne dhomh dé nì e."

She did understand. He didn't know about the tiny TARDIS seedling she still kept in a hidden terrarium in the corner of her room. "Quite right too," she whispered, not throwing it at him in malice at all. She cradled him to her chest, giving in for just a moment. "I know, Doctor. I've always known."

She rubbed his back in soothing circles for a moment, before turning his chin up to lock eyes with him. "Would that I were a different person," she continued in her whisper. "Were I still Rose, I'd tell you… Ngudia'sa lam su mich't."

He froze, muscles tensing, hearts faltering in their four-beat rhythm as he met her gaze and her words reached his ears. Were I still Rose, she'd said, and then in Gallifreyan: Don't doubt my love for you.

Rassilon, he wanted her to be Rose, his Rose—but she wouldn't admit it, would never admit it. As much as his telepathy insisted she was his Rose, her behavior, attitude, and the presence of Bad Wolf… contradicted that.

"What about you?" The question slipped out before he could hold it back, and once it left his mouth he wanted to kick himself—or curl up into a pandimensional ball. Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot.

He shouldn't have come here, shouldn't have requested a night with her, shouldn't have…

Fourth-dimensional tentacles twitched in agitation, the feelers poking at the hundreds of possible outcomes for this conversation, how the rest of the night would play out. One gave up on that and caressed the outside of her right thigh before lightly curling around her calf.

In the back of his mind he was fairly certain he'd crossed some sort of boundary somewhere, and vaguely aware that she was still in control and could punish him if she saw fit…

(He didn't care.)

"Why are you pushin' for this?" she asked honestly. She didn't react to the tentacle that wrapped around her calf. She'd ignore it for now, recognizing he was slowly losing his grip on reality. "I can't! I can't do it no more. I can't do the runnin' and the mind games and the I love you one day and the next I'll just swan off t'the bottom of a pit with the devil himself and refuse t'say it when it matters, Doctor. I had my slow path with you for a time. Now we both gotta move on." She sat up a bit, propping her weight on one elbow. "This is a one-time thing. It has t'be. For both our sakes. You can't keep me, just like I can't ever keep you."

The Doctor growled in frustration, knowing she was right and yet refusing to admit it. He tilted his head back to look at her, a stubborn, mutinous glint in his brown eyes.

And if I did try to keep you? The words slithered into her mind. What would you do—punish me for it?

He unraveled the tentacle from her calf, careful not to nick her with the serrated bone-like edge, and lowered his head, deliberately swirled his tongue over her left areola. Besides, like I told you earlier—I'm addicted to you. Not only do you taste like… well, yourself, you've got Time in you as well. Do you have any idea how intoxicating that is to a Time Lord, my Lady?

He wasn't really looking for an answer, so he stopped teasing her breast and instead rolled off her and onto his back, draped one arm over her hips and tugged gently, hoping she'd pick up on what he wanted.

Take me, claim me… He needed her—couldn't she see that?

Lady went along with it, but she didn't do what he wanted. She'd given him enough control for one night. "Get out of my head, Time Lord," she spat the word like a curse. "I ain't your Rose no matter how much ya want me t'be. Now, I've given ya what ya paid for, so I think 's best if ya get out of m'bed and back t'your bloody TARDIS so ya can find the next companion and break her heart too."

The Doctor shot up into a sitting position at her words, his eyes flashing. He opened his mouth as though he were going to say something, then apparently thought better of it and closed it, dipped his head to her. "As you wish."

Now, he figured, was not the time to tell her about the half-bond he'd accidentally forged. So he slid off the bed, gathered his clothes and put them on before padding over to the doorway. Hand on the doorknob, he paused and looked back over his shoulder at her, opened his mouth to say something. Almost instantly he closed it again.

Anything he would have said would have been trite, anyway.

Without another word, he opened the door, stepped out into the hall, and shut the door behind him, slid down the wall directly beside it without bothering to slip his shoes back on.

Should've quit while you were ahead, Doctor, he thought bitterly, mental voice half-mocking, half-scathing.

Still… it wasn't quite dawn yet. So he supposed he wouldn't do any harm in sitting outside Suite 10 and waiting. (For what, he wasn't quite sure.)

It was an hour later than the breakfast service was brought to her door. Madame Lyss frowned down at the bloke sitting on the floor.

"She won't take pity on you," she stated coldly. "It is best for you to move on. If I come out and you are still here, you will be forcibly removed and you will not be able to book her a second time."

With that, the older woman stepped over his legs and through the door into Lady's room.

The Doctor shot a cold glare over his shoulder at the door to Suite Ten, where the older human woman was meeting with the Lady. If he concentrated, he could probably hear their conversation—if he wanted to, that is.

Suddenly, he didn't want to be anywhere near here. And he really didn't want to be banned from the premises…

(Besides, she wasn't his Rose.)

Reluctantly, he pulled on his shoes and rose to his feet, wondered briefly just how long he could push his luck before the other woman exited the Lady's room.

No, better not risk it.

It was best to leave now, maybe hide out somewhere else for a bit… or just head back to his TARDIS, possibly return later…

So he shot one last look back at the door, expression unreadable to anyone that might have been watching, and began the walk back out of the brothel that would lead him to his Ship.

Translations:

a chroi: my heart, my heart's beloved, my darling [Irish Gaelic]

Tha mo ghion ort: I love you with all my heart [Scottish Gaelic]

Mur eil nas leòr ann, chan aithne dhomh dé nì e: If that isn't enough, then I don't know what will be [Scottish Gaelic]

Ngudia'sa lam su mich't: Don't doubt my love for you [Gallifreyan]