Note: I am not, nor do I claim to be, a smut writer. I attempted this about eight times, and here is the final result. Slightly distracted as David Tennant was on TV in Secret Smile, but whatever. No excuses. Please, be kind! And thank you to everyone for your support so far, it's much appreciated. New fandom, and all that. x
The sort-of-Doctor had precisely five point three four seconds to process his anger and hurt before the door was thrown open again, and Rose came barrelling back inside, locking it behind her. With no pretence whatsoever she strode confidently up to him and threw her arms around his neck, propelling him backwards until his knees hit the bed and he collapsed onto the memory foam mattress.
She began to kiss him in earnest, tugging him half on top of her and winding her fingers through his haphazard hair. He responded automatically, surprised at the guttural moan that escaped him when her teeth grazed his bottom lip.
"Stupid, stupid half Time Lord…" she muttered breathlessly, squirming slightly as he removed his lips to nip down the elegant column of her neck. Her hands trembled slightly at they moved to his shoulders – the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of his t-shirt elicited a shudder of desire through his body. Rose arched her back and pressed her chest against his as the sort-of-Doctor returned his ministrations to her mouth, that wondrous tongue of his demanding access in a way she'd always dreamed it would.
Snaking a hand between their crushing bodies, the sort-of-Doctor smoothed a hand down Rose's denim clad thigh and roughly hooked it over his hip, grinding against her in a way he hadn't expected to. She emitted a soft high pitched moan at this, and the scent of her arousal reached his nose. This spurred him on – all of the anger and hatred and love and lust and longing he'd felt for her being poured into this one human woman who was in turn giving him her fury, passion, and everything else she had.
Sparks seemed to erupt behind his eyes as her fingertips ghosted down the exposed skin of his arm – to her, seeing this bare flesh made him more attainable, more real, and she adored the sensation of being about to just touch him. The man growled deeply and reached between them again to tug her t-shirt off – as much as he had wanted their first time to be sweet and gentle, there was no hope of that now. His companion responded in kind, her dark eyes full of flames as she took in the sight she never thought she'd see.
Pale, smooth skin smattered with freckles and a dusting of dark hair across his sternum. Slim, of course, but not as painfully so as she had imagined, just lithe and lean with toned muscles. He took a moment to look bashful, afraid that his slight frame might put her off. His companion ignored this questioning glance and moved her hands to the button of his jeans, not even bothering to toy with him for a while before she was yanking them down. He kicked them off impatiently and hers quickly followed suit, tangling round her ankles and making her swear quietly in frustration.
The sort-of-Doctor paused and levelled her an amused look, raising an eyebrow in that sexy way of his. Rose rolled her eyes and sat up, tugging off the remainder of her trousers and throwing them angrily to the floor with the rest of her clothing. He watched her as she did so, marvelling at her creamy complexion and sumptuous curves. How had he managed to repress these urges for so long?
Soon, even their underwear was shed and he was braced on his forearms above her, hips nestled comfortably between her legs. He still didn't speak; for once his gob seemed to have been rendered utterly useless. Normally, he knew, there would be some kind of foreplay, but they had reached a mutual understanding remarkably quickly that now was not the time. He could smell her arousal and feel his own – it was now or never.
Rose had no words either – she slid her hands down their bodies and guided him to her entrance, emitting a surprised squeak when he immediately sheathed himself inside her to the hilt and buried his face in the spot where her neck met her shoulder. They lay like this for several moments, simply drinking in the fact that this was really happening. Rose almost wanted to sob with joy at the sensation and relief, but decided to keep that for when she was alone – his ego was fragile enough without her crying. She instead tipped her hips up towards his, signalling for him to move when he was ready.
They moved together, somewhat erratically, it had to be said. They were too eager to prove their feelings to the other; to drink this whole experience in and allow the years of want and rejection and adoration to finally come to a head. There was neither rhyme nor reason to their rhythm – they were rough with each other: biting, sucking, scratching, gripping too hard – they both wanted to mark the other, both out of love and out of punishment. Rose's legs wound tightly around the sort-of-Doctor's waist as she urged him on, revelling in the bead of sweat than meandered its way down his angular jaw and long neck. He gave her what she wanted, moving as hard and fast as his single heart and burning muscles could cope with.
The sort-of-Doctor's eyes widened as Rose slipped a hand between her legs, giving herself friction where she needed it the most. Her eyes fluttered closed and she moaned softly, smiling gently when he groaned aloud with her. He could feel his orgasm beginning to coil in his stomach and her muscles beginning to tense around him as she strove desperately to hang on. Instinctually, without realising what he was doing, the sort-of-Doctor shifted his weight slightly and unclenched his fists, gently resting his fingertips on Rose's dripping temples.
It was as though someone had set her brain on fire; pleasurable, burning, exquisite fire. Pictures flashed through her mind of her own face as seen by someone else, and she felt the all engulfing love the man beside her held for her. She felt his hurt, felt his adulation, and felt the pleasure which currently roared through his veins as intensely as it did through hers. He whispered to her telepathically in a hauntingly beautiful language she had no hope of ever understanding, the coiling of his orgasm felt just as intensely in her mind as his body.
That was when she knew for certain. It had been him all along – this man had been the one she had always been destined for. He was her sort-of… No. He was her Doctor. She finally connected the name with him and it registered in his mind, a wave of jubilation cresting over him. His sheer unadulterated ecstasy brought both of their orgasms on them simultaneously, their minds screaming and crying out to one another. Shuddering through their climax, the sort-of-Doctor broke the connection and collapsed completely on top of Rose, both of them breathing in short, sharp gasps. After a few moments, he collected himself enough to speak a few words.
"A minute ago, in your head – what did you call me?"
"Couldn't you make it out?"
"Well, not really. Could you say it out loud, just so I can make sure I got it?"
Rose nudged his nose with hers, eyes hooded. Her hand danced gently down from his neck and she wound her fingers carefully through his, taking his hand for the first time since Bad Wolf Bay. She looked solemn as she held his gaze.
"I'm pretty sure you know exactly what I said, Doctor."
The sort-of-Doctor (or, as we must now call him now that Rose has sorted herself out, the Doctor) had to admit he was quite impressed with himself. He had conjectured that he may still possess some form of telepathic ability, but that had been – well… He was just as talented a touch-telepath as he had always been, even if the rest of his skills had been somewhat rusty. He blushed inwardly at the memory of how sloppy he had been, with his chaotic rhythm and clutching hands. Rose hadn't seemed to mind, though. The Doctor grinned widely at the memory and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes wide with pleasant disbelief. Rose lay quietly next to him, once again tracing circles on the back of his hand. She stared silently at the ceiling, apparently too astonished at the situation to speak.
Out of the corner of his eye, the Doctor spied the coat slipping from the end of the bed and onto the floor – the box that had contained it was at the other side of the room, and he wasn't quite sure who had thrown it there. The mere sight of the lush silk lining brushing the cream carpet made his heart leap to his mouth in horror, and he shot upright so quickly his vision went momentarily black. The sudden, unexpected movement brought Rose from her reverie and she started violently, looking around the room as though expected a Cyberman to emerge from his wardrobe or a Sontaran to crawl out from under the bed.
"What is it? What's wrong? Doctor?" she gasped, her hand suddenly empty as the man leapt out of bed with an exasperated growl. Were they under threat? Christmas in London after all, never exactly a safe place to be. The Doctor turned to her with a scandalised expression, pouting slightly.
"My coat! It's nearly on the floor! Janis Joplin gave – well… Even better, now. Rose Tyler gave me it!"
He crouched and swept it up into his arms, cradling it to his chest like the crown jewels or a cherished child. Rose beamed back at him, a warm sensation tingling through her veins.
"You like it, then? Thought for a minute then you didn't," she smirked, allowing her eyes to trail lazily over his exposed body as he moved around the room, selecting the very best place to display his new treasure. She had to admit that he had quite an impressive bum for someone so skinny – she devoured the way his waist tapered gently into his narrow hips, and the long, slender legs that were so well muscled from all the running he had been doing for so long. Hearing her content purr, the Doctor turned and looked at her enquiringly, hands still working to display his coat on the front of the wardrobe to the best of its advantage.
"Just admiring the view," Rose smirked, arching her back and stretching languorously. The right corner of the Doctor's mouth quirked up and his tongue slipped out of his mouth, licking absently at his lips. He waggled his bum teasingly at her, forever playing the fool; he couldn't deny that he was pleased though, and there was a renewed swagger in his step as he returned to her side, tossing himself carelessly down on the bed. Goosebumps had formed on his pale skin, and in a fit of combined cold and modesty he tugged the duvet around his body, surprised he'd been able to strut around in the nude so readily. Rose finally took the opportunity to tentatively wrap an arm around his waist and rest her cheek on his chest.
A few minutes passed by in a comfortable silence before the Doctor spoke again, his tone remorseful, his fingers gently winding through her bedraggled hair.
"I'm so sorry, by the way," he muttered. Rose frowned against his chest, confused.
"For what?"
His fingers moved momentarily from her hair and brushed her temples, sending a sensation akin to an electric shock through her.
"For performing telepathy without your permission. It's a mating ritual on Gallifrey – a natural reaction – an automatic instinct I didn't even realise I still had. It was invasive and if I hadn't been so carried away it wouldn't have happened. I really am sorry."
Rose shuffled away from him a little and held his chin, manoeuvring his head to make him look her in the eye. Shooting him a half smile, she raised an incredulous eyebrow.
"What are you on about, you plum? It was amazing! You'll be in more trouble if you don't do that every time."
"I didn't give you the chance to close –"
"I don't need to close any bloody doors against you now! Just promise me that you'll keep doing it."
"But-"
"If I had known when I met you just how hot telepathy can be, there is no way I'd have waited so long to jump you."
The Doctor sniggered smugly at that, jiggling his head from side to side in a way that echoed a certain Chiswick temp. His lips parted slightly and Rose spied the tip his tongue settling just behind his top teeth – the sight of it made her tingle. He opened his mouth to speak, but she spoke over him.
"And I have one more think I need you to promise me, while I'm at it."
"I am not taking you to Raxacoricofallapatorius. I simply refuse. I-"
"No, that's not it – this time. I want –"
She paused to kiss him then, letting her lips glide softly over his. He sighed contentedly against her mouth, sliding a hand to the back of her neck and holding her in position. Far more the kind of kissing he had imagined for the start of their relationship – sweet and loving. Breaking away, Rose continued in a whisper. She almost looked self-conscious.
"I want you to finally put that distracting oral fixation of yours to good use."
The Doctor swept his tongue absently around his mouth before speaking. His brow creased a little, as though he'd never considered the prospect.
"I don't know if I'd call it a fixation…"
"Oh, yeah, it is. You've always got that tongue doing something. I can think of some new tasks to put it to."
"What… Now?"
She thought for a moment – their rough coupling had left her achy and tender. At this moment she was content to simply lie next to him, revelling in the ability to just lean up and kiss him if she wanted to. He looked almost disappointed when she shook her head, but his eyes drooped sleepily at the same time.
"To be honest, I'd rather have a kip. Tony'll have us up at five tomorrow. It'll be bad enough explaining the bruises without falling asleep in the sprouts as well!"
Outside the bedroom door, Jackie paused on her way to the bathroom. Had she really heard Rose's voice coming from the Doctor's room? Pressing her ear against the door, she made out her daughter's voice intermingled with the deeper tones of the Doctor. What was she doing in there at this time of night? After the way they'd been tiptoeing round each other for weeks, there was no way anything would change. Must be planning trips they were going to take once that bloomin' spaceship was all up and running.
With a non-committal shrug, she continued on her way, swearing to herself she'd get to the bottom of this tomorrow. It was time for some digging.