A/N: This chapter is rated a borderline M (no smut, but suggestible all the same).
Alex's outfit for this chapter can be found on my Tumblr, under the name 'darksideofparis'.
~The Pros and Cons of Silence~
Jack: Oh, pleasure, pleasure! What else should bring one anywhere? – The Importance of Being Earnest
A few hours later, the Doctor woke up.
Being a Time Lord, the Doctor didn't slowly drift into consciousness as humans did. One second, he was asleep. The next, his eyes were wide open, his brain already in the midst of processing the events of the last few hours.
According to his internal clock, it was still the middle of the night on the TARDIS. Only a few hours had passed since he and Alex finally collapsed against the pillows for a much-needed power nap. Had it been after their fifth round? Or was it six rounds? His brain, normally very efficient on such matters, was a bit sluggish on that point. Blissed out from pleasure? he thought wryly. Ah, well, he'd figure it out later.
Looking around now, he found his bedroom (or was it now his and Alex's? Another thing to figure out later) much as it had been before he and Alex fell asleep. The candles were still aglow, but the wicks had burned low. The roaring fire in the new fireplace had settled into a low smolder, casting the room in even more shadow. Thanks to his and Alex's vigorous activities, most of the rose petals were now strewn across the floor, intermingling with their clothes. The heavy, heady scent of sex hung in the air. Combined with the rose petals and the vanilla from the candles, it created an intoxicating aroma that was enough to make even the Doctor's head spin.
Blinking in an effort to regain his equilibrium, he turned to Alex. She was nestled right beside him, still fast asleep. She lay on her back, one arm stretched back on the pillow, the other loosely wrapped around her waist. Her brown-blonde hair was in complete disarray, some of it splayed across the pillow, the rest falling over her left shoulder. As the comforter had been kicked off several rounds ago, she was covered in nothing but a thin white sheet. It rested just beneath her breasts, exposing her still hard nipples. Directly above them, Alex's sonic necklace lay in the hollow of her throat, gemstones twinkling softly in the dim light.
He smiled softly. She looked so peaceful, the very image of Sleeping Beauty. The thought of waking her, even to go on their date to the original The Importance of Being Earnest premiere, was abhorrent in the face of such tranquility.
No, he thought. Alex needs her rest. He smirked as he mentally added, She's more than earned it tonight.
Still, that left him with nothing to do. Going back to sleep would have been nice, but the Doctor felt perfectly well rested. He toyed with the idea of slipping out, having one of his middle of the night mini adventures but, like waking Alex, found the idea utterly repellent. He had no desire to leave Alex, even for something as mundane as going to read in the library or tinker in his study.
With a little decisive nod, the Doctor settled back down into his pillow, shifting his whole body so that he faced Alex. Past incarnations would have found the idea of simply laying there, studying his girlfriend and her features, completely ridiculous and laughable. But then, none of them had known Alex. The Doctor's hearts seemed to clench with the sudden wave of possessiveness that swept over him. But he did. He, the very last incarnation of the Time Lord known as the Doctor, had the sole privilege of being in Alexandria Locke's company. He was the only one who would ever see her roll her eyes at him, watch how far her lips would quirk when she was amused but trying to hide it and, most importantly, he was the only incarnation who would ever see the look on her face when she came, her back arching, her color-changing eyes wide, her mouth open in a little o-shape as she fell over the edge and into a pleasurable abyss.
This was his last life. If it was only now, in what Time Lords could call the twilight years, that he could meet and fall in love with Alex, so be it. As Alex herself had said, she was his reward from the universe. He deserved such a reward after his long, tumultuous, often tragic life.
He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as he visualized his dark thoughts going along with it. It seemed to work, as a soft smile spread across his face as his gaze roamed over Alex's form. Even though he'd seen every inch of her body tonight, he was still utterly captivated by it. He would never get enough of that exquisite form or the woman it belonged to. It was a simple fact. Alex was the most delectable craving he'd ever encountered. Sweeter than chocolate, more intoxicating than alcohol, and capable of giving him a greater high than any drug ever invented.
He watched the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest, the sheet threatening to slip lower with every breath. He studied the way her eyelashes curled against her cheek. How had he never noticed how long they were before? Or how her pale pink lips parted slightly in sleep, how they curved into a small, sweet smile?
His fingers twitched. He wanted to trace all of Alex's beautiful features, every part that made her so uniquely and perfectly her, commit it all to memory. But touching Alex right now risked waking her, and she really did need her sleep. Though she was now a genetically engineered Time Lord, the Doctor couldn't say for certain if she was at a regular Time Lord's level of endurance. It was entirely possible that while she didn't need as much sleep as a human, she still needed a bit more than a regular Time Lord.
Still, the urge to do something was overwhelming. His fingers continued to twitch, even after he dug them into his thigh.
Then inspiration hit.
It was like getting hit over the head by a hammer, only without the agonizing pain.
Question was, was it a feasible idea? Could he even do it?
Only one way to find out, he thought. Slowly so as not to jostle the mattress, the Doctor slid the sheet aside and slipped off the bed.
His bare feet padded softly across the carpet and, after a momentary search, he found and reclaimed his discarded boxers. He grimaced at the idea of putting clothes back on, but even he had to admit that what he was about to attempt wasn't best conducted naked.
Once he had slipped the boxers back on, the Doctor went and crouched beside his nightstand. The top drawer slid open on silent hinges.
Like many things aboard the TARDIS, the drawer was bigger on the inside and, therefore, stuffed with all sorts of random mishmash. A discarded set of juggling pins, various mechanical bits and bobs, a stretched-out Slinky, a bag of Jelly Babies that, based on a quick sniff, had long since passed their expiration date, a fountain pen he kept meaning to return to Emily Dickinson, a canister of prototype Nitro-90 he'd confiscated from Ace (he made sure to handle this item gingerly, as Ace had proudly declared it was more powerful than a hundred Molotov cocktails), and a blueprint of Steinmar 12's notorious Black Hand prison, which had been considered escape proof until he and a group of anti-government revolutionaries proved otherwise.
Finally, he found what he was looking for: a large leather-bound sketchbook and a box of charcoal pencils.
Grinning madly, the Doctor made quick work of placing everything else back in the drawer before making his way to one of the leather club chairs. After tugging it closer to the bed, he settled down into the soft, warm leather.
The Doctor had no trouble admitting that very, very few of his past incarnations were artistic. Most of them, last incarnation included, had only been able to produce stick figures. Except for when his last self temporarily turned himself human. After the whole John Smith/Family of Blood mess had been settled, he'd begun wondering whether his human self's artistic abilities had carried over. Hence purchasing the sketchbook and pencils shortly after he and Martha were sent back to 1969. Waiting for Sally Sparrow to send the TARDIS back to them meant he'd had a lot of free time on his hands. He spent several evenings in a then Weeping Angel-free Wester Drumlins, attempting to sketch bemused model Martha. He'd never told her so, but he had a grand idea of presenting her with a masterful portrait, his way of trying to apologize for the hell he'd put her through in 1913 and then again by financially supporting him in 1969.
Unfortunately, it was hopeless. John Smith's artistic skills had evidently died with their owner. Once they'd gotten the TARDIS back, he tossed the sketchbook and pencils in a drawer, forgetting about them and any other artistic pursuits.
Until now.
He quickly flipped past several rough, nearly illegible sketches made by his tenth self. Soon, he was on a blank page. He dug one of the barely used charcoal pencils out and hesitantly pressed it to the paper, making a small dot of the pristine white surface.
He took a quick look at Alex. She was still asleep and, incredibly, still in the exact same position. Still so breathtakingly beautiful and perfect, her Sleeping Beauty image just begging to be captured forever on paper.
With that thought in mind, the Doctor began sketching.
~The Pros and Cons of Silence~
Hours seemed to pass. Thanks to his time senses, the Doctor knew this wasn't really the case, but that was what it felt like. Being so caught up in a project, all thoughts and feelings focused only on it, it was disorienting when you looked up, unsure as to how much time had slipped by. It was a feeling he used to only get from tinkering, his long fingers twisting bits of metal and wire together as he repaired a tattered, run-down section of his beloved ship, or created something brand new.
Now, it came through sketching.
It was almost eerie, how easily the skill came to him. No practice, no formal training, it simply flowed out of him, as easy as breathing. Within no time at all, Alex's outline was on the page. Slight lines indicated her face, her hair, the long, delicate fingers curled against her palm, patiently waiting to be connected into stronger, bolder lines.
Every few moments, he would pause and study Alex, not as a lover, but with an artistic lens. Though this drawing would be for his (and possibly her) eyes only, he wanted to get it as accurate as possible. He studied the way the candlelight cast varying shades of shadow across her face, the little bits of rose petals tangled in her hair, and the visibly tendons in her neck as her hand lay tilted back against the pillow. Each detail, however minor, found its way onto the page.
Before he knew it, he had nearly completed the drawing. All that was left was Alex's face, something he had deliberately saved for last.
As he began work on Alex's nose, the Doctor's mind whirred. This was a fantastic development! So many possibilities were open to him now. It was clear he was good – dare he say talented – at drawing, which suggested he might be gifted in similar mediums as well. Oil paints, watercolors, acrylics, even mediums that didn't involve paint at all. Marble sculpting, for instance. It would be a good excuse to visit Michaelangelo again, and Alex would surely delight in meeting the man responsible for creating so many famous works of Catholic art.
The Doctor smiled softly as he carefully drew a sideways lightning-bolt shaped scar on the right side of Alex's nose. Alex, his Ally, his muse. That was already apparent. Though eager to explore more of his artistic side, it paled in comparison to the excitement of capturing Alex's likeness over and over. Some artists, he knew, tired of their muses after a while, but the Doctor was confident that such a thing would never apply to Alex. She was, after all, the most precious thing in the universe.
All too soon, his most precious thing's nose was done, followed by her eyes, the Doctor laboring over the curve of each individual eyelash. Probably the easiest part of Alex to sketch, so long as they were closed. Already, his brain was mulling over just how he was going to recreate her color-changing orbs with nothing but simple paint.
Something to experiment with, he thought as he began work on her lips. Alex had what could almost be considered a cupid's bow, though not quite. It wasn't something he could honestly say he'd noticed before, but now that he was drawing it, it was perfectly obvious. It was nice to know that, even though he already knew her so well, he could still learn new things about Alex.
Pausing his pencil's movements, the Doctor looked up to study the curve of Alex's upper lip once more. But his eyes quickly landed on something else.
Alex's chest. Not her exposed breasts, but the way they were moving. More specifically, her breathing pattern. Previously slow and even, it was now a touch faster. Her legs shifted slightly beneath the sheet and the arm stretched over her head started to rise higher. Her eyes twitched, then began to flutter.
She was waking up.
~The Pros and Cons of Silence~
Alex awoke slowly.
Not a surprise. Even as a genetically engineered Time Lord who needed far less than eight hours a night (or week), some of her former sleeping habits were hard to break. Such as waking slowly, luxuriating in the half-awake, half-asleep state. Alex had drifted back into a deep slumber more than once while in that state. A vague part of her mind thought that it wouldn't happen now, but she wasn't concentrating on that.
No, she was concentrating on the luscious feeling of soft, warm cotton sheets rubbing against her bare skin. Right, she was in bed. But not just any bed. She was in the Doctor's bed. . .
The reminder stirred a bit more of her brain awake. Alex's eyes struggled to open, the lids reluctant to move after remaining closed for so long. In her semi-conscious state, her vision was blurry, but she could make out that the room was dark, darker than it had been before she fell asleep. The scents of vanilla and roses hung in the air, along with the sweaty, musky smell of sex.
A slight smile crossed her lips. Sex. . . She remembered very well just how that scent came to be. Even if she hadn't, the slight ache between her thighs would have been indication enough.
Blinking slowly, Alex started to move her arm (why the hell was it stretched above her head?), her fingertips itching to stroke the cool, soft skin of her lover (oh dear God, no, that sounded like something from a trashy romance novel) and maybe see if he'd be interested in helping bring a few more of her fantasies to life. God knew she had plenty of them, and not all of them involved being tied up.
But her arm had barely quivered when she heard a voice cry, "Ally, don't move!"
This had the exact opposite effect on Alex. Her whole body jumped, pushing her fully into consciousness. Her fluttering eyes burst open, copper irises flicking rapidly around the dim room. "What. . .?" she groaned as she turned her head to locate the Doctor. After all, who else would call her Ally? But as with her arm, she'd barely moved her head when her bedmate hurriedly spoke again.
"Alex, please, just lay still for a moment."
Alex obediently stilled, though her brow furrowed in confusion. What the hell was going on? Settling her head further down on the pillow, she peered out of the corner of her eye. The wide space of mattress beside her was empty and, had she been allowed to move, Alex knew the sheets would have been cool to the touch. But the Doctor was still in the room. She could just see him if she strained her peripheral vision. He had pulled one of the leather club chairs up to his side of the bed and was comfortably settled in it. There was something in his lap and something in his hand, but she couldn't make either of them out.
She was about to ask just what he was doing when the Doctor suddenly said, with great excitement, "Oh, and would you mind closing your eyes again? Just for a few moments?"
Half of Alex wanted to ignore his previous instructions, sit up, and demand to know what the hell he was doing. The other half, however, was curious. What was the harm in doing as he asked for a few minutes? There was usually a method to his madness, even if it wasn't initially apparent. "Okay," she murmured as she closed her eyes.
Though her vision was now cut off, the rest of her senses weren't. She could hear mild crackling coming from the dwindling fire in the fireplace, the soft and steady mechanical hum in the walls and . . . scritch-scratch?
It took a few moments, but she was finally able to work out that the scritch-scratching was a pencil against paper. But not just any ordinary pencil. And not just any paper. The pencil sounded almost rough as it moved against the paper, and the paper didn't crinkle or tear like regular notebook paper. Which meant that the Doctor probably wasn't writing in the 1,000-year diary he had shown her once. He certainly wouldn't need her to lie still and keep her eyes shut for that.
There were very few reasons to need a pencil and paper, and fewer reasons still based on their current circumstances. He's definitely not writing anything, which really only leaves the possibility that he's . . . drawing?
It was a baffling thought, especially since the Doctor once told her stick figures were about his limit, but it was the only one that made sense. And since he asked me to stay still and close my eyes, that means he's drawing me.
Alex resisted the suddenly overwhelming urge to swallow heavily, gasp, or do anything that would compromise her current pose. Holy shit, she thought, her hearts thudding a little faster. A burst of adrenaline ran through her system, closely followed by a rush of heat that settled low in her stomach. Considering he'd asked her to stay still, that meant he had been drawing her while she was asleep, recovering from the amazing five or six rounds of sex they'd had. I must not look too bad then, she thought with a little thrill, if he suddenly got the urge to try drawing me.
She itched to spring up and demand to see the sketch, but instead she abided the Doctor's pleas and lay still, listening to the gentle scritch-scratch of pencil against paper as he slowly and methodically captured her likeness.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the Doctor's voice rang out. "Okay, Ally, you can move now."
The words were barely out of his mouth before Alex popped up, the sheet falling away from her chest. She lunged across the bed towards the Doctor, her fingers scrabbling for the leather-bound sketchbook now laying page down in his lap.
So distracted by the sight of Alex's bare chest, it wasn't until she had one hand wrapped around the sketchbook that the Doctor realized what she was doing. "Hey, hey!" he cried, quickly grabbing hold of the book. They now each held one end of the sketchbook.
Alex tilted her head at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Why won't you let me see it?"
Oh, bloody hell, she's figured it out! Not that he should have been surprised. This was Alex he was dealing with. "See what?" he said, smiling innocently. Maybe if he played dumb?
It didn't work. Alex's light green eyes simply narrowed. "Don't play the idiot with me, Doc. We both know I can see right past it." She tightened her grip on the sketchbook and gave a little tug, only for the Doctor to tug it back. "Oh, come on!" she cried as she once again yanked fruitlessly at the book. "Let me see the drawing! It's of me, right?"
"Um, well, yes," the Doctor stuttered, his cheeks flushing.
Seeing this, Alex's impatience faded away. Though she didn't relax her grip on the book, she offered him a soft smile. "Oh, Doc, I'm sure it's not that bad."
The Doctor gave her a little self-conscious shrug. "I don't believe so," he said hesitantly. Truthfully, he thought the drawing was excellent, but then again, an artist was always biased by their own creation. Especially when they had such an exquisite, inspiring muse like Alex. But it wasn't his own opinion that concerned him. How Alex reacted to it would far eclipse his own thoughts and feelings.
"Well, then. . ." Alex smiled hopefully, her now copper eyes shining eagerly. "Can I see it?"
The Doctor hesitated for only a few seconds, then released his grip.
Alex wasted no time in settling the sketchbook in her lap. She was vaguely aware of the Doctor moving to sit on the bed beside her as she turned the book page side up. And when she did. . .
"Oh," Alex gasped, a hand coming to her mouth.
It was a simple charcoal sketch, but to Alex, it might as well have been the Mona Lisa or Ally's Roses. Each and every line had been drawn with such precision, such care, such . . . love. From the long, often wildly curved lines of her hair, strewn across the shadow of a pillow, to the many tiny circles that made up the gemstones in her sonic necklace, every inch of the sketch screamed the Doctor's love for her, the woman he had long since declared the most precious thing in the universe.
And she looked so beautiful. Not just erotic or sexy (though since she was topless, she did look that), but also attractive and gorgeous, words that she knew could describe her, but which she had never seen reflected back at her without the aid of a mirror.
Alex didn't even realize she was crying until a teardrop hit the page, just a few millimeters shy of the drawing itself. Hastily, she moved the sketchbook down to her knees. "Sorry," she said, laughing slightly as she wiped her eyes. "It's just. . ." With a shudder, she gazed down at the drawing once more. She gently traced the lines making up her peaceful, sleeping face. "You've made me way too beautiful."
The Doctor shook his head. "No," he said softly. Gently, he cupped her chin and turned her face towards his. Teary light green eyes met shining, loving emerald orbs. "I drew you exactly as I see you."
The tears multiplied. This man. . . Alex thought as the Doctor's thumbs wiped each little droplet away. How had she gotten so lucky? There had been a time, a time not all that long ago, when she thought such love was something she would only experience second-hand from the pages of her favorite books. That she would have to live vicariously through the lives of Elinor and Marianne Dashwood, Anne Shirley, Cassandra Mortmain, and all her other favorite characters. That there was something wrong with her, a chemical defect in her brain that made finding and experiencing romantic love impossible.
Thank God she had been wrong. Thank God the Doctor had come into her life so miraculously, so fortuitously.
Speaking of her boyfriend. . . The Doctor had finished wiping away her tears. His fingertips caressed her cheeks one last time before reluctantly pulling away. "So," he said slowly, his dark green gaze eyeing her closely. "You don't mind the drawing?"
With a snort, Alex gestured at her still damp face. "Didn't my happy crying answer that?"
The Doctor pulled a face at the term 'happy crying' (he honestly wasn't sure he would ever understand such a concept), but said, "Well, I figured as much, but it seemed best to get a solid, verbal answer. Especially since. . ."
Alex raised an eyebrow when he trailed off. "Since?" she prodded.
"Especially since . . . I would like to do more of it."
"Of drawing?" Alex turned back to the sketch, smiling as studied it again. "Well, yeah, you should. You've got a real talent for it. I'm actually kind of jealous."
The Doctor chuckled, recalling how she'd once told him her drawing amounted to nothing more than stick figures. He had said the same, not having been aware of this underlying talent. "I do intend to keep sketching and drawing, possibly expand to more mediums, but what I really meant is that I would like to draw you more."
Ripping her gaze away from the sketch, Alex stared, wide-eyed, at him. "Really?" Her voice came out breathy, her tone incredulous.
"Really," he nodded, the single word coming out equal parts solemn and insistent. Then, as if there was only so much seriousness he could take, a mischievous gleam appeared in his eyes. "Besides," he smirked, "do you really think I'm going to ask Pond to pose for something like this?"
Alex couldn't help the cackle she let out. "If she didn't kill you first, Rory would," she said through peals of laughter. "With a sword. And he might cut off a few important bits," she added impishly, nodding towards his lap.
Though he knew she was joking, the Doctor couldn't help squirming at her words. He supposed that was a universal constant. No matter the species, the males always feared someone getting a bit too violent with their nether regions. "Yes, that, er, wouldn't be good," he winced.
"No," Alex smiled, "I'm pretty fond of that section of your anatomy." She turned back to the drawing, gazing at the carefully crafted image. It was honestly quite impressive that such a wonderful, intricate drawing could be achieved with nothing but charcoal and skill. And it was clear that the Doctor had the latter in spades.
The Doctor watched her, a grin coming to his face as he took in her awestruck expression. "So, you really don't mind?"
"Being your muse? Hell no." Smirking, Alex waved the drawing at him. "Especially if you draw me like this every time."
"Well, I can't make any promises," the Doctor laughed, "but I'll do my best."
Alex set the sketchbook on the nightstand before turning back and leaning closer to the Doctor. "That's all I ask," she murmured before pressing her lips to his.
She meant for the kiss to be quick, chaste, nothing more. But things had a habit of escalating without warning, especially when the Doctor was involved. Before Alex knew it, the kiss had deepened, the Doctor's tongue exploring her mouth. She tilted her head back, her hair spilling over the hand that was now gently cradling the back of her neck, a calloused thumb pressed against her pulse point.
Suddenly, the kiss ended. But by no means was the Doctor done. Alex let out a strangled gasp as his mouth dove down to her neck. His lips, a distant part of her mind mused, should be declared lethal weapons as they gently sucked at her skin. And that didn't even factor in his teeth, which threatened to give her bruises as they nipped at her collarbone.
Alex groaned, hating herself for what she was about to do, but her curious mind wouldn't be put off for very long. "What time is it?" The words came out on a sigh as the Doctor's tongue traced Circular Gallifreyan onto her skin.
He sighed as he reluctantly pulled himself away from her neck. "On Earth, your time?" he said as he settled back against the pillows, crossing his arms over his chest. "Middle of the night. I imagine the Ponds have long since gone to bed."
As they should, he thought. Aside from the fact that he wanted to be alone with Alex right now, today had been a very trying one for Amy and Rory. They had encountered a fully-grown, completely psychotic version of the daughter who had no qualms about killing (or tricking) their best friends, been told that Amy's egg count was low, thus potentially compromising her fertility, and that UNIT strongly supported the idea of having their daughter's identity on Earth declared legally dead.
Just dealing with one of those situations would be overwhelming. But all three? In the span of just a few hours? He was honestly amazed that the Ponds hadn't completely broken down. Or that they hadn't sworn off TARDIS traveling altogether. He wouldn't have blamed them if they had. Especially since he was the reason Melody had been kidnapped in the first place.
The Doctor gave himself a little mental shake. No, he had to stop being so maudlin. Amy and Rory were here, on the TARDIS, hopefully sleeping off the day's events. They didn't blame him, Alex didn't blame him and, in any event, the Silence, Kovarian, River, Lake Silencio, none of it were welcome here. Not in this moment, in this room that was still heady with the smell of vanilla, roses, and sex, with a naked Alex nestled beside him, her hair gloriously disheveled and her currently dark green eyes shimmering with intent. . .
"So, I have you all to myself," she purred. With a sudden move, Alex was astride him. Her arms slipped around his neck, pulling him close. "Excellent."
The Doctor's responding chuckle was husky and almost hoarse sounding as he wrapped his own arms around Alex's waist. The bed sheet was still wrapped around her lower half, thus separating her legs from his, but he was hardly complaining when he had her bare breasts right in his face. "My sentiments exactly," he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to her left nipple. He chuckled once more when Alex's breath hitched, her body automatically arching into his touch.
She shifted onto her knees so as to press her breasts more firmly into his face. He was quick to comply with her unspoken request, peppering kisses to each of her nipples. "Round seven, then?" she gasped as he lingered over her right breast.
"If you want," he said, punctuating his words with a quick nip to her nipple.
Alex made a half-whimpering, half laughing sound. "If I want? There another option I don't know about, Doc?"
The Doctor's hands, which had been surprisingly idle the past few minutes, now came to life, slipping down and under the sheet to cup Alex's bum. She hissed as his fingers gently kneaded the sensitive skin. One fingertip was perilously close to her puckered rim, and Alex absently wondered if anal play was something that interested him. It had never appealed to her, despite the attempts of several ex-boyfriends to convince her otherwise. Much like her fantasies of being tied up, there hadn't been anyone Alex trusted enough to allow such control over her body. No one until the Doctor.
So caught up in these thoughts, it took her a moment to realize that the Doctor had been speaking. "Sorry," she said, her cheeks reddening, "what were you saying?"
The Doctor smirked, wondering just what dirty thoughts had been running through her mind. There was no other explanation for her inadvertently tuning him out, or for the beautiful red blush that was spreading rapidly down her cheeks and neck towards her breasts. "I was saying," he said with a mock huff of impatience, "that you have two options for what we do next."
Alex pressed herself further into his marvelous hands, still massaging her bum, as she carefully listened to his voice. "Only two?" she groaned as one of the Doctor's fingers brushed against her rapidly dampening center. Her nails dug into his shoulders, desperate to keep herself grounded and listen instead of grinding down onto those wonderful, talented fingers. "And what are they?"
"Either we stay right here. . ." The Doctor paused long enough to press a long, lingering kiss to her throat, enjoying the way Alex's breath hitched at the action. Her little mewl of protest when he pulled away was so adorably tempting, but he forced himself to stay composed, to offer her the choice he rather hoped she wouldn't take. "Or I take you on that date I've been promising you all summer."
Alex stilled, her center hovering over his fingers. "You mean, go see the premiere of The Importance of Being Earnest?" she asked, her now copper colored eyes staring into his.
The Doctor nodded, taking in her wide-eyed gaze. There was no mistaking the eagerness in those beautiful, color-changing orbs. Her excitement was so palpable, he could feel it, her body practically vibrating against his. Much as he would rather keep her in bed for the next several hours (or days), he couldn't deny his Ally anything she wanted. And it was clear, even before she spoke, just what her choice would be.
Alex would be lying if she said she wasn't tempted by option number one. Grinding down on the Doctor's fingers, letting him bring her to the heights of ecstasy again, maybe even convincing him to act out her tied-to-the-bed fantasy. . . All of it sounded incredibly tempting, but she couldn't quite dismiss option number two either.
Getting dressed up in a gown that would make the Doctor's head spin, possibly seeing him in an outfit that would make her drool, meeting one of her favorite writers and seeing the original performance of one of her favorite plays? A play she had just finished acting in? And, above all, the chance to have a date with her incredibly sexy, charming Time Lord? One that wasn't overshadowed by mysterious painful body attacks or worries about Kovarian and the Silence?
Alex's hearts twisted in remembrance. They hadn't had such a date since their first one in Cabo, back when they hadn't known she and Amy had been replaced with Gangers, before her horrible pain attacks, before Demons Run and all the revelations that had followed.
No, she thought darkly, that bitch and her minions, all of it, are not welcome here. Much later, she would allow herself to process everything that had happened today and how it all connected to everything that had already occurred, but not now. Not in this perfect moment, when she had a Time Lord eager to fulfill whatever desire she asked of him, including the date night she was about to request.
Alex smiled broadly. She'd reached her decision without even thinking about it. "Option number two, please," she grinned, bouncing slightly in her enthusiasm.
The Doctor chuckled. "Yes, Ally," he smiled, before leaning in and kissing her.
Alex accepted the kiss but was especially careful this time to keep it chaste. With only slight regret, she pulled away from his wonderful grasp and jumped off the bed, making her way towards the bathroom.
The Doctor's gaze swept appreciatively over her nude form, but he forced himself to keep his libido in check. His Ally wanted a proper date night and he'd give it to her, come hell or high water. Still, his dark green eyes stayed fixed on her tempting body as he said, "Perhaps we should get ready separately, Ally."
Alex paused just inside the doorway to the bathroom. "Why?" she asked, her brow furrowing. But only a second after asking, she realized the answer. It was in the Doctor's steadily darkening eyes, the way the veins in his hands stood out as they clutched the rumpled, petal-strewn sheets, clearly a replacement for her own skin. Every inch of him screamed his desire for her. Alex knew that all she had to do was say the word and he'd be on her, the lion to her willing lamb, giving her pleasure until she couldn't remember her own name.
Her cheeks reddened, and she knew the blush was spreading all the way down her body. The Doctor followed it intently, spotting the pinkish hue easily despite the dim lighting. Tension hung in the air, like a rubber band stretched too tightly. It was only a matter of time before it either snapped or loosened.
"Ah," Alex breathed, licking her suddenly dry lips. "Yes, that might be a good idea."
The Doctor's dark green gaze didn't let up, but a corner of his mouth twitched. "Yes," he said, his voice a low baritone. "Risks less . . . distractions."
Dear God, how does he make that sound so filthy? Alex swallowed hard, pushing down her rising arousal. There would be plenty of time for that later. "Yes, good plan," she nodded as she strode towards the door. She paused halfway there to retrieve her underwear, lying in the middle of the other club chair. She tugged them on, giggling when the Doctor groaned in disapproval. "Hey, what if I run into Amy or Rory? I don't want them seeing me stark naked."
"True," the Doctor acknowledged, but that didn't keep him from pouting as Alex put her tank top and jeans back on. At least she left her bra, cardigan, and shoes behind, along with that excellent nightgown, currently lying in a crumpled heap beside the bed.
Alex zipped up her jeans. "Get ready," she scolded, her stern tone bellied by a wide smile.
Smirking, the Doctor gave her a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am."
~The Pros and Cons of Silence~
Alex left before the Doctor got out of bed. If his reaction to seeing her nude body told her anything, it was that she would be just as bad vice-versa. And there was no time for any of that.
Her hearts beat rapidly as she skipped around a corner. The original premiere of The Importance of Being Earnest! Dressing up! Meeting Oscar Wilde! Sex just had to be put on the backburner. Only for a few hours, of course, Alex thought. After all, one of the perks of getting dressed up was finding an outfit guaranteed to drive the Doctor wild. Potentially wild enough to tear her out of it.
Swallowing heavily at her imaginings, Alex continued down the corridor. The overhead lights were set to night-mode, casting nothing more than a dim glow, but with her newly advanced vision, Alex navigated the short distance to her room easily. Once inside, she wasted no time peeling off all the clothes she'd just put on and making a beeline for the shower. It was already turned on, and as she stepped underneath spray, Alex sighed appreciatively at the piping hot temperature.
"Thanks, Gorgeous," she said, patting the shower wall.
Even though she hesitated a bit at washing the slight stickiness between her thighs away, Alex scrubbed at her skin anyway. It felt nice now, but she knew from experience it wouldn't feel that way in a few hours.
As usual, her shower only took a few minutes, and Alex spent a few more toweling off, throwing on a dressing gown, and drying her hair. Just as she reached for her straightener though, Alex felt a sudden force at her back, urging her out of the bathroom.
Some might have been alarmed, but Alex merely glanced up at the ceiling. "Eager, Gorgeous?" she asked as the force at her back continued pushing her out of her bedroom and down the twisting corridors. A quick answering hum sounded out around her. Though she wouldn't claim to be an expert at translating the TARDIS's responding hums and vibrations, Alex felt confident in saying that yes, the time machine was very eager to help her get ready.
Soon, Alex found herself standing before the closed doors of the wardrobe room. Grasping the knob, she laughed when the TARDIS started humming excitedly, the walls visibly vibrating in the time machine's eagerness. "Alright, alright," she murmured. "Let's see what you've come up with."
Her jaw dropped as she stepped inside.
The TARDIS had wasted no effort in procuring everything one might need for a night out in Victorian London. Several racks of period appropriate clothing stood before Alex, positively packed with dresses of every color, texture, and style imaginable. Off to the side were shelves Alex knew hadn't been there before, stocked with Victorian era footwear, from simple lace-up boots to low-heeled slippers made of delicate silk and trimmed with ribbons. Another series of shelves held a collection of hats and accompanying accessories. Scattered on the nearby vanity was a small fortune in makeup. The cosmetics, however, were from the 21st century, for which Alex was grateful. She had no desire to use anything containing arsenic, lead, mercury, or anything else now banned by the FDA and the European Union.
With a wide grin, Alex quickly started sorting through the gowns. So many options, she thought, amazed, as she ran her fingertips over delicate lace, satiny ribbons, and silk as soft as human skin. She studied a beautiful midnight blue gown with tiny, sweeping stitching, passed over a pale pink dress trimmed in multitudes of matching lace and ribbon, and laughed over an emerald green dress with such pronounced puffed sleeves, Anne Shirley would have combusted at the sight of it.
For a moment, she thought she'd found a suitable one: a red and black lace off-the-shoulder corset top attached to a burgundy skirt, slightly ruffled at the bottom, and gathered at one side. There was even a fetching black velvet cape to wear over it. But just as Alex reached for the gown, it vanished from the rack.
What sounded like an apologetic hum rang out. Alex frowned in confusion, but ultimately she didn't question it. She was sure the TARDIS had her reasons.
Finally, after a few more racks, she found it. The perfect gown. And this one made the red and black gown look positively measly in comparison.
It was purple. Lavender, technically, but still a shade belonging to Alex's favorite color. Made of silk and satin, the floor-length evening gown contained off-the-shoulder sleeves and an asymmetrical two-layer skirt, with the edges of the first skirt trimmed in ruffles. As if this wasn't enough decoration, elaborate roses and climbing vines had been painstakingly embroidered along one side of the dress, the thread just a shad darker than the silk it rested on. On the back, several tiny lavender buttons ran from the top of the material down to the waist.
That's gonna be a problem, Alex thought with a grimace. But she supposed she could get the Doctor to help her. Though he'd probably much prefer undoing the buttons. . .
Blushing at this new mental image, Alex removed the dress from its hanger before carefully draping it over a nearby chair. This was the one. She knew it. And she couldn't wait to see the Doctor's reaction.
Turning to the vanity, Alex saw that a few new items were waiting for her. On the dainty chair in front of the vanity was a strapless, nude-colored chemise, matching stockings, a pair of her favored black lace knickers and. . .
Alex groaned.
A corset.
A fucking corset.
Sitting directly on top of the pile like it was the crown jewel of them all.
"Guess it was too much to hope to avoid wearing one of those," Alex grumbled. The TARDIS let out a responding hum and, based on the fast pitch, Alex suspected that the time machine was laughing at her.
Alex stuck her tongue out at the ceiling but moved towards the dreaded corset and its fellow undergarments anyway.
She made quick work in donning the underwear, chemise, and stockings. The corset was a little tricky, but fortunately it was a front-lacing one, so Alex was able to figure out the mechanics fairly quickly. To her pleasant surprise, it wasn't even very tight. She could breathe perfectly normally. Charlotte was right, she thought as she studied her new, slightly curvy form in the mirror. And period dramas have a lot to answer for.
"Not bad," she murmured appreciatively, running her hands over her new accentuated curves. "Not bad at all."
After spending a few more moments admiring her new form, Alex slung her dressing gown over her shoulders and began tackling her hair. Much as she was tempted to leave it down, she knew that no respectable woman in 1895 went out without styling her hair. Otherwise, people might think she was a prostitute. And though she generally didn't care what people thought of her, Alex didn't want to risk any potential interfering busybodies tonight. That would definitely put a sour note on her and the Doctor's date night.
Fortunately, while she'd needed Elsie's help back in Leadworth, this time she was on the TARDIS, with tons of futuristic technology scattered everywhere. Including, as Alex discovered in one of the vanity drawers, a large hair-dryer-looking gadget with claws for arms whose instruction manual promised the perfect chignon. Muttering a quick prayer, Alex plugged in the gadget, then settled back to let it do its work.
To her everlasting relief, she did not have to yell for the Doctor to help her cut the Rexia Hair Stylist 3000 out of her hair. In fact, she was going to ask him to take her to wherever she could get one of these.
The gadget had indeed swept her long brown-blonde locks into an elegant chignon. It had also swept her bangs to the side, allowing her currently copper-colored eyes to be on prime display, and had left a few tendrils loose, letting them frame Alex's face, just as she had styled her hair for the last two acts of Earnest. The whole thing was held together by carefully concealed bobby pins and a single silver hair comb, which wasn't concealed. The comb was shaped like a spray of flowers, with several little rhinestones making up the blooms. As Alex turned her head this way and that, she could just register the comb shining and shimmering in the light.
"Definitely getting one of these for myself," she declared as she put the Hair Stylist 3000 back in its drawer. And maybe one for Lacey. She did have a birthday coming up.
Now for makeup. As cosmetics had been considered gaudy and improper during the Victorian era, and really only for the use of actors and prostitutes, Alex kept it to a minimum. Foundation, just a slight amount of pale pink blush, her regular mascara and eyeliner, and the eyeshadow she'd worn for Amy and Rory's wedding, a light mixture of pale pink and gold. Since her beloved Cherry Bomb was out, Alex applied a light sheen of her favorite lip gloss: Lip Smackers Cotton Candy. A few spritzes of Chanel No. 5 completed her beauty regimen.
Now to get into the dress. Alex carefully pulled it on and, at the TARDIS's urging, stepped into another gadget she hadn't seen stashed in the corner. A quick glance at the label revealed it was the Rexia Dress Doer 9000. Its mechanical hands spent only seconds buttoning Alex into the gown, reinforcing her opinion that she really needed to check this Rexia place out.
From there, the TARDIS did the rest. A loud hum directed Alex back to the vanity. Resting atop it were a pair of sparkly lavender heels, white elbow-length gloves, and earrings. Though similar to the ones she'd worn back at the Hotel Adlon, the dropped earrings were much longer, consisting of three large sapphires. Each sapphire had been cut into a different shape; oval on top, circular in the middle, and teardrop-shaped on the bottom. Surrounding each gem was a ring of diamonds while a small crystal separated each sapphire from the other. Going off the plethora of gems alone, Alex suspected the earrings would weigh quite a bit once placed in her lobes. But she didn't care.
"They're perfect, Gorgeous! They even match my necklace!" She ran a hand over her TARDIS charm which, thanks to the low neckline of her dress, was on prime display, the tiny sapphires, diamonds, black onyx, and lone topaz gleaming and glittering in the light.
Alex quickly stepped into the shoes, pulled on the gloves, and fastened the earrings in place. Just as she'd thought, they were heavy, pulling a bit on her lobes, but Alex was sure she could tolerate them for one night. Besides, they really completed the outfit.
Looking in the mirror, Alex almost didn't recognize herself. The woman looking back at her no longer resembled the one from 2011, who regularly wore leather jackets, tight jeans, and combat boots. This was a proper Victorian lady, someone who used to full-length dresses and elbow-length gloves, who embodied sensuality and propriety even when all she planned on doing was attending the theater.
The Doctor wasn't going to know what hit him.
Grinning, Alex picked up her skirts and set off towards the console room. But as she rushed towards her date, she wondered if, at the end of the evening, she could get the Doctor to draw her in this outfit before ripping it off her.
~The Pros and Cons of Silence~
In the time it had taken Alex to get ready, the Doctor had showered (under very cold water), dabbed on more of the musky cologne he knew Alex loved, and dressed. Now, he was practically bouncing around the console room in anticipation. In fact, he had to resist the urge to keep checking his watch. Or from rushing off and tracking Alex down.
Biting back these two impulses, the Doctor fiddled with some of the console controls, triple-checking that they were in the right place and time. Thankfully, the readout on the monitor was the same as it had been the last two times: February 14th, 1895, just a block away from the St. James's Theatre, a little after six o'clock in the evening.
Satisfied, the Doctor rubbed his palms together. But even the reassurance of the TARDIS landing in the right place and time did nothing to calm his nerves.
Tonight has to go perfectly, he thought as he paced along the platform. No mysterious distress signals, no Weeping Angels, Daleks, and especially no Silence.
His jaw tightened at the reminder of this new, dangerous enemy. He knew they weren't done with Kovarian or the Silence. Far from it. Right now, they were at a sort of stalemate. They knew who River was, what she'd been programmed to do. But they still didn't know why the Silence were after him, what the first question was that they were so afraid of being asked, or why they had turned Alex into a Time Lady.
Answers would come eventually. The Doctor had no doubt about that. But he worried they might come too late. Lake Silencio was a long time away (he hoped), but it was still out there, lurking, waiting. Would he get the answers to his questions before then or would he only receive them seconds away from death?
The Doctor shook his head so violently something in his neck cracked. No, he couldn't think such things. Not tonight, anyway. Later. Tonight was about himself and Alex.
Aside from general worries about the threat of the Silence and their eye-patched leader, it had crossed his mind that, for the first time since becoming aware of their existence, he was landing in a time period where the Silence was virtually everywhere. But the Doctor had decided there was nothing doing about that. He had dealt with the threat in 1969, so there wasn't much he could do in 1895. But in any event, he doubted any of the creatures would be lurking around the theatre. When it came to influencing humanity, the Silence seemed only to care about science, not the arts. Oscar Wilde, he was sure, wouldn't have been of much use to them.
Besides, the Doctor refused to let the knowledge of when and where those sinister creatures lurked influence his travels. The moment he did that, he might as well park the TARDIS on some distant star and settle down into a life of bitter hermitage.
He wouldn't let the Silence win at that.
As if to punctuate this, the sound of heels clicking against the metal floor rang out above them. "Sorry!" Alex called. There was a swoosh of fabric as she started down the stairs towards the console. "I didn't keep you waiting long, did I?"
The Doctor turned, about to reply in the negative, but the moment his gaze landed on Alex, any and all words died in his throat.
Alex was. . . Well, she was. . .
Stunning.
Absolutely, positively stunning.
Alex bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning as she carefully walked down the steps. The Doctor was literally slack-jawed, his mouth hanging wide open. Yet his emerald eyes expressed all the admiration and adoration his mouth couldn't. As she reached the last step, she released her hold on her skirts. How women had walked in these things, beautiful as they were, on a daily basis without tripping was beyond her. But it was all worth it to see the effect her appearance had on the Doctor.
"Do I pass muster?" she asked as she came to a stop before him.
The Doctor continued to struggle at remembering any words in any of the 57 billion, 205 languages he knew. It wasn't until the TARDIS gave him a mental poke that he managed to recover the ability to speak. "Ally," he breathed, "you look. . ." He stepped closer and placed his hands on her waist, smiling when Alex leaned into his touch. "Beautiful," he murmured. "Stunning, gorgeous, completely and utterly breathtaking." He finished this declaration with a soft kiss to her forehead.
Alex's responding blush spread through her cheeks, down her neck, and to the top of her chest. The Doctor followed it closely, his eyes turning dark and predatory. Her blush only deepened at the sight, and she remembered her vow to find a dress that he would want to rip off her. Going off that deep, passionate gaze, she had succeeded and then some.
"Thank you," she smiled now, before forcing herself to take a step back and out of his grasp. There would be time for that later. For now, she satisfied herself with studying the Doctor's new attire. Her own chocolate brown gaze turned appreciative. "You don't look too bad yourself."
The passion in the Doctor's eyes relaxed as he beamed and did a little twirl. He had changed into a tux, though not the one he'd worn just a few hours ago. While tuxedos hadn't really changed since they were invented, the Doctor's was distinctly Victorian flavored. It was deep black, contrasting sharply against his white vest, shirt, and bowtie, and cut to fit his figure, the jacket clinging to his slightly muscular frame and the slim pants accentuating his long legs. Completing the ensemble were a pair of shiny black dress shoes, gleaming white kid gloves and, of course, a top hat.
Alex's mouth watered. She had admired tuxedos before, but now, she appreciated them.
Seeing her obvious approval, the Doctor smirked. "Like what you see, Ally?"
Alex matched his smirk, her now topaz eyes twinkling. "Very much so, Doc."
"Good." With that, he snatched up a walking stick leaning against the console. Not the sonic cane from earlier, but a beautifully carved black stick topped with a heavy silver knob boasting intricate filigree along the sides.
The TARDIS suddenly let out a fast-pitched hum that reverberated all around the room. A split second later, Alex felt another urging force at her back and found herself turning towards the jump seat. Two items were lying on it. The first was an elbow-length white fur capelet, a large diamond brooch acting as the fastener. The second item was a small, beaded lavender clutch, though Alex suspected its inside was bigger than its outside.
"Guessing those are for you," the Doctor chuckled.
Alex laughed as she took up first the capelet, then the clutch. "You're spoiling me, Gorgeous."
The TARDIS hummed once more, and the Doctor smiled softly as he translated its meaning. "No such thing, according to her." He gave the console an affectionate pat before focusing back on Alex. "And me, for that matter." As far as he was concerned, Alex deserved endless spoiling. She hadn't received such care and attention during her first several years of life, so he was determined to make up for it now.
Alex smiled bashfully, but she couldn't deny that she was pleased. None of her previous romantic partners had ever expressed such a sentiment. Oh, they had paid for dinners and movie tickets, but that was just because it was what was expected. They never indicated she deserved pampering or that they wanted to do said pampering. Not like the Doctor.
Seeing her shy, slightly embarrassed smile, the Doctor quickly changed the subject. "Not a bad idea with the wrap. It is London in February out there." Granted, Alex wouldn't really feel the cold, but it was best to keep up appearances.
"True," Alex agreed as she slipped on the capelet. She couldn't help but sigh happily. Though she was highly against the use of real fur in fashion, she had to admit that the capelet's fur lining was incredibly soft and warm.
On impulse, she opened the clutch's brass clasps. What could the TARDIS have provided her with for the evening? Just as she had expected, the clutch was bigger on the inside, though not by much. It only took a little digging to spot everything tucked inside. Her lip gloss, a silver compact, her cell phone (presumably in case Amy and Rory needed to get a hold of them), a pair of opera glasses and. . .
"What?!" the Doctor cried at Alex's gasp. He'd been examining the console controls, making sure nothing was amiss so they wouldn't have to hurry back or delay their evening, so he hadn't seen her going through the clutch, much less what had so obviously shocked her. "What is it, Ally?"
Hoping to God her face wasn't bright red, Alex snapped the brass clasps shut. "Nothing!" she chirped. "Really," she added softly, seeing his worried gaze. "It's nothing, just a little something unexpected Gorgeous decided to include. Really, don't worry about it."
The Doctor studied her for a few moments before finally clearing his throat. "Well, then." As one hand twirled his cane around (nearly hitting the monitor in the process), he offered the other to Alex. "Come, milady," he smiled, assuming a posh accent. "Your evening of entertainment awaits."
Alex grinned as she slipped her gloved hand into his. "I look forward to it, sir."
Right before they reached the TARDIS doors, Alex suddenly drew them to a halt. Before the Doctor could ask her what was wrong, she was leaning up on tiptoe. "By the way," she whispered into his ear, "if I forget to tell you later, I had a wonderful time tonight."
She had no doubt about it. Tonight would be magnificent. Seeing the very first performance of her favorite play, meeting one of her favorite playwrights/authors, it was everything she had dreamed of all summer. So much pleasure, all for her.
And the four long red ropes, one for each limb, tucked at the bottom of her clutch ensured that the night's pleasures were only just beginning.
~The Pros and Cons of Silence~
A/N: Okay, so, not dead, lol! I'm so sorry this chapter is coming two years late. It gave me no end of trouble and today, I thought, "Screw it", and polished it into something I'm happy with. It doesn't match my original plan for it, but I think it works all the same.
Next up is an adaptation of the BBC New Series Adventures book, Paradox Lost. Those chapters should be up fairly soon - I'm aiming for by the end of the month - as they just need to be filled out/edited.
Notes on reviews. . .
NicoleR85 - Thank you! Oh, yeah, they definitely deserved some time alone together after all the insanity of 'Let's Kill Hitler'. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!
The Time Lord Oracle - Haha, I'm glad it was worth the wait (hopefully this chapter was too)! Haha, yep, they did the deed and Alex more than gave the Doctor a treat! hope you enjoyed the chapter!
SerahSanguine - I'm glad you liked 'The Halloween Apocalypse' and enjoyed 'Flux' as a whole. I'll admit, I didn't really like 'Flux' that much, but I am enjoying how RTD is incorporating it into the new series. Haha, glad the smut lived up to what you imagined! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!
moonmoss - Eep! I'm so glad you like Alex! Especially her little arc here where she has to regain her self-confidence! It was difficult to write, but it definitely made Alex as a character stronger. Lol, yep, Spencer is fun! Poor guy, highly trained UNIT agent just keeps getting outpaced by Rory the Roman! Haha, yes, they finally resolved all that UST! I'm glad you're excited for 'The God Complex'. It's one of my favorite episodes and I had so much fun writing Alex into it. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!
Guest - Oh my gosh, your favorite Doctor Who fanfic ever?! I'm blushing! I'm so, so glad you enjoy the Alex Locke Series and that you think Alex is a fully fleshed out, believable character. As an aspiring writer, it means a lot! Yes, I think 'sweet' and 'mature' are good words to describe the Doctor and Alex's relationship. I agree that I think consent and respect is often overlooked in fanfic, so I really wanted to emphasize it here (consent can be sexy, y'all!). Oh, I can't wait either to get to all the little stuff I've teased! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!