Chapter Nine : I'm not lonely. I've got everything I need right here

The Doctor felt inordinately well rested, and after a seconds consideration he came to the somewhat surprising conclusion that he had fallen asleep. He stretched his body and grinned to himself, still a little reluctant to leave behind the drowsy sensation that wrapped him in warmth. Opening his eyes he found that pillows propped him up behind his back. He vaguely recalled the rest of the bedding having been kicked away during a particularly vigorous, pleasurable, and deeply satisfying bout of lovemaking. The decadent memory made him grin from ear to ear.

"You snore."

He turned his head to the side and looked at Rose. She was sitting next to him on the bed, holding a drink in her hands and wearing his leather jacket. He, on the other hand was naked as the day that he was loomed.

"An' you scream," he countered.

Rose bit back a grin. "Only with you."

His smile grew gentle under her watchfulness. "How long was I asleep for?"

"About an hour." Rose glanced at her drink, swaying the tumbler a little so that the ice hit the sides of the glass, looking back up she edged a little closer to him. "It was too long."

His smile became broad again as he beamed at her and reached out to cup her face with his hand. "Don't often sleep, me, an' when I do…" He let his hand fall back to the soft pillows and sighed. "Dreams. Nightmares really, I s'pose." He looked back at her, and seeing her concern he tried to make light of his admission. "But that hour, that was a fantastic hour." He grinned at her. "Not as fantastic as the hour before it, though."

She smiled at him, even blushed a little, but she refused to let him sidestep. "What sort of nightmares?"

The Doctor's smile faded and he closed his eyes for a second. Confession was good for the soul, he reminded himself, and what he felt for Rose was… well, it was as close to faith as he had ever known. He opened his eyes, looked at Rose and smiled a little. If he believed in anything, he believed in her.

"I was a soldier once," he told her quietly. "What I saw, what… I did… I carry it with me. I'll always carry it with me." He glanced away and his eyes darkened, memories stirring in his hearts. "My people… they're dead."

"I…" she stopped short, not sure what to say. "What do you mean, your people?" she asked gently.

He looked back at her. "My family. My friends. Everyone. They died in the war. There's just me now." His voice fell into a whisper of acceptance for things he could not change. "I'm alone."

Rose's brow furrowed in consideration, and the Doctor realised too late that it had been the word war that had left her so troubled.

"Where… where exactly are you from?"

He felt his hearts miss a beat as he thought of his home. "Gallifrey."

"I don't know where that is." Rose admitted quietly, and smiled ruefully. "Guess I should have stayed on at school, eh?"

He looked at her. "It's a long way from here. Somewhere I can never go back to."

She set her drink down onto the bedside cabinet and glanced at him. "I think I've got an atlas somewhere." She made to leave the bed. "You can show me where Gallifrey is."

The Doctor captured her hand in his, stopping her. "I can't." His fingers threaded through Rose's. "It… it won't be there. It doesn't exist any more."

Rose hesitated then nodded her head, accepting what he had told her. She looked at her hand, held so gently in his, then pushed her hair back behind her ear and returned her attention to the Doctor. "You…" She licked her lips and began again. "You're not alone though. You have me."

"For now," he said quietly.

Rose shook her head. "Forever."

The Doctor let Rose's whispered assurance hang on the air between them, and for a while they were both silent. He knew full well that forever was a promise that Rose could never realise. But he wanted to believe in it, if only for a little while.

Rose contemplated him for a moment. "I'm gonna travel one day."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She nodded her head. "I mean, there's got to be more than this."

"More than what?"

"These four walls. This place. My job," Rose explained then glanced away for a moment. "There's a whole world out there an' I wanna see it – some of it at least."

The Doctor placed his hand on her thigh and stroked her warm skin, contentment washing through his blood. "You will."

"Yeah," she said quietly, but he saw uncertainty flicker in her eyes.

"Rose?"

She stared back at him. "You're not from around here – you don't know what it's like."

"So tell me."

She took a breath for courage. "Most of the girls I went to school with, they're in dead end jobs, or chained to the kitchen sink with a baby on the way." She avoided his gaze for a moment. "Their blokes… you don't see them for dust. And even if they do stick around, they're pretty useless."

The Doctor looked at her, seeing her vulnerability, her insecurities and he understood. First she had told him her dreams, the life she thought she could not have. And now she had told him her fears, the life she thought she could not escape.

"That's not going to happen to you." There was a certainty in his voice that he couldn't hide from her.

She frowned a little. "You don't know that."

"It won't happen to you, because you're different."

"Different, how?"

The Doctor leant forward, taking Rose's face into his hands so that she had no choice but to look into his eyes. "You're fantastic." He let his hands fall from her face and he settled back against the pillows, looking at her.

She tried and failed to control her smile. "You're just saying that to get into my knickers." She laughed and pushed a hand through her hair. "Oops – I'm not wearing any knickers."

The Doctor's eyes darkened as he looked at her, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're going to be the death of me, do you know that?"

Rose positively beamed, then reached across to retrieve her drink, taking a sip as she watched him from under her eyelashes. She decided that she liked the way he looked at her. She liked it very much indeed.

Moving with purpose, she straddled him, settling herself so that his already hardening cock was nestled directly at the entrance to her core. "You complaining?"

Not waiting for an answer, she closed her eyes for a second and rocked against him, hearing him groan in pleasure as he pushed up into her slick warmth. Her eyes opened and she stared back at him as he moved.

His hands found her hips, tugging her firmly against him as his cock filled her, stretched her. "Does it feel like I'm complaining?"

Rose did not answer, couldn't answer. She felt him thicken inside her and pleasure rippled through her body. She licked her lips and swallowed hard, but all the while she held his gaze with her own.

The Doctor's eyes drifted from Rose's to the glass she held in her hand. "What are you drinking?"

She took a steadying breath. "Brandy. Mum got a bottle last Christmas."

"You shouldn't be drinking."

She couldn't help but smile. "Most blokes would be trying to get me drunk."

He took the glass from her. "I'm not most blokes."

"No," Rose whispered in quiet agreement. "You're not."

He lifted the glass to his lips and drained it, leaving only the ice, then he set the tumbler down on the bedside cabinet and looked back at Rose. "Alcohol dulls your senses, slows down your reactions, and I want you to know exactly what I'm doing to you, every single second."

"What are you going to do to me?" There was no doubt, no fear, and no uncertainty in her question. She trusted him completely.

The Doctor sat up, slipped the leather jacket from Rose's shoulder and cast it to the floor. With dark and passionate eyes he drank in her every curve, until finally he met her eyes again and smiled a smile that sent a shiver of want through Rose's skin.

"Nothing that you won't like."