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Sub Rosa
By : sinecure
Category: 1 through F > Doctor Who
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Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who and I make no money off of it.
Chapter List
- 2
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Watching as Rose's friend disappeared down the hall, the Doctor took a deep, shuddering breath, a little surprised at the unfamiliar sound of his own voice. It felt a bit like he'd regenerated somewhere between the lift and the hotel room.
Using the sonic screwdriver on his vocal chords was probably cheating. Just a bit. Probably a low down, dirty cheat, but he couldn't let Rose know who he was. Not yet anyway.
Once Jenna had rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight, he pushed the door to the room open, and stepped inside, glancing around once quickly before allowing himself to even look in Rose's direction. It was nice in here, but he knew that already. He'd checked the hotel out earlier and had found it to his liking well enough then. But he wasn't exactly particular about the decor; he'd just wanted someplace nice where Rose had never met a client before. And after breaking into Melissa's files, Rose's in particular, he knew this place was perfect.
Nice, dark wood, thick drapes. Candles on nearly every surface, sending up the scent of... was that jasmine and cinnamon?
Closing the door behind him with a soft click, he let his eyes settle on the bed. On Rose.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a blue blouse and black slacks, looking so much like she used to that it made his hearts ache a tiny bit. But no matter how much he yearned for days gone by, he'd never get them back again. She was a different person now, a woman.
A very beautiful, sexy woman who sold her body for money.
The thought helped to clear his head a little and he resumed his perusal. Her hair was in a ponytail, the warm, honey colored strands hanging halfway down her back. Her shoulders were perfectly straight, and he could see the stiffness in her posture, knew she was nervous, unsure of what to expect from him.
He didn't blame her really. He'd asked for a casual appointment, but she didn't know exactly what he wanted.
A sense of irony went through him. Aside from the blindfold covering her eyes, this could be just an average trip on a random planet for them. No, strike that. Even with the blindfold it could be one of their trips.
Lips curving up, he pushed away from the door and clicked the lock into place. Feet carrying him silently across the room toward the bed, toward Rose, he slipped his hands into his pockets. He'd had a whole speech thought out for this moment, things he wanted to say to her, things he wanted her to know. Questions for her. But as he got closer, all he could do was stare at her, breathe her in. The smell of her shampoo and soap teased his nostrils, through they were different from before.
It'd only been three years, and yet he felt like a century had gone by. The remembered feel of her hand in his made his palm itch. The way her lips would curl up just so when he teased her made his own lips lift higher. The way her body had felt against his when he'd held her tight and pretended she was just a mate, caused a longing in his chest.
The words that he'd wanted to ask her from the moment he saw her spilt from his lips. "Are you happy?" She frowned, probably not expecting such a personal question. But then again, maybe this was par for the course with her. "In your life," he clarified. "Are you happy?"
Her lips twisted up in amusement. "You're not gonna try to sell me religion are you?"
An answering amusement left him in a brief chuckle and he shook his head, though she couldn't see it. "No. Nothing like that."
Face smoothing out, but for her brow furrowing above the blindfold, she tilted her head to the side a bit. "I'm... satisfied. I've got a good life."
Her voice was different. The accent he'd--sort of--acquired from her was missing. She'd lost the distinctive inflection that was Rose Tyler and he didn't like that. "But you're not happy," he concluded, eyes rising from her hands in her lap to the frown playing at her lips. Shouldn't be a stumper, he thought. Not for her.
Smiling a little, confusion lacing her voice, she shrugged a shoulder. "Is anyone ever really happy?"
There were plenty of responses she could've given, but instead of picking one of them, she was tossing questions back at him, and that was all the answer he needed. She wasn't happy with her life. Sadness swept through him, nostalgia--a feeling he rarely gave life to--simmering in his hearts. "I've been happy quite a bit in my life. Been a while though. There was-- there was a girl. She... well, I loved her, but then I lost her. For a time, though, for a time we were very happy together."
"I'm sorry," she murmured, and though he couldn't see her eyes, he imagined her staring off into the distance, thinking about her time with him, or her life in her old universe before she'd met him. She'd been happy then. With Mickey.
Why wasn't she with him now?
Drinking in every inch of her face, wishing she could see him as well, but terrified of what he'd see in her eyes just now, he sat on the bed beside her. "Are you happy?"
"I--" she sighed, then smiled, though it was more sad than anything. "I have sex for a living, what more could I want?"
Lifting his hand, he brushed his thumb across her cheek, whispering sorrowfully, "Happiness?"
She sniffed, straightening her shoulders a bit. "I'd prefer to keep my personal life out of this. Do you-- are you here just to talk?" Her fingers played with the hem of her blouse, and he had the absurd thought that she'd be more comfortable with it off. Would rather have sex than talk.
"Yes." Settling a hand over hers, he stilled her fingers, then pulled back. He wanted nothing more than to thread his fingers with hers, pull her up and ask her to come with him. But he had to be sure first, absolutely certain that her life here wasn't what she wanted. "What'd you used to do?" he asked, hoping the change in subject would lessen her nervousness.
Or was that just him?
Eyes on her fingers, he shoved his own under his thighs.
"How d'you know this isn't all I've ever done?" she asked, voice curious, on stronger ground now that he'd changed the subject.
"Just a guess," he lied, settling his hands in his lap, mirroring her position. "You don't seem as..." searching for the right word, not wanting to offend her, he drew in a deep breath and let it out in a rush, going with the single word he could think of, "jaded as I'd expect you to be if you'd been at this for more than a few years."
Chuckling lightly, she turned toward him, lifting a leg onto the bed. "I was a shopgirl before. Now I'm a call girl. Way to fall up, yeah?"
Holding his breath a bit, he pushed the words through his lips, exhaling heavily as he did so. "And nothing in between that?"
"No," she answered immediately, shaking her head, pretending nonchalance. "I had a life prior to this one, but it's in the past. I'm here now. For you, Charles." Her hand settled on his thigh, teasing, seductive, and all he could think about was holding it. He supposed most men would be preoccupied with how close she was to certain bits of himself that she'd be all too happy to handle for him.
He wasn't most men though.
But he also wasn't as unaffected as he pretended. Guess they were both phonies.
Taking her hand from his leg, he momentarily threaded his fingers with hers, just the tips, not enough for her to feel the familiarity of his hand. Just a brief touch, curling his fingers in and away again before settling her hand back on the bed between them.
She sighed and tried to hide it behind a smile. "Sure, you just wanna talk, Charles?"
He almost regretted choosing Charles D'Raist as a name, but Melissa had put him on the spot. He'd chosen, at that very moment, not to use his real name, the one Rose knew him as, and that'd been what started this whole night. He'd scheduled this meeting only an hour before hopping forward and coming up to her room. When asked for a name, he'd stared dumbly around before his eyes settled on his Chucks.
And so Charles D'Raist was born.
During the hour between making the appointment and landing just outside the hotel, he'd hopped back in time and had the TARDIS whip up a fake identity for Charles D'Raist, making him an impeccable businessman, completely healthy, and an upstanding citizen.
"Just talk," he agreed. "Are you... happy?" he asked again, intent on getting an answer to his question, an honest one.
Sitting on her hands, she adjusted her leg on the bed, loosening up, becoming more Rose-like, less Di Star, high-priced call girl. Now that sex wasn't on the menu, she seemed to become someone else, someone like herself, but... different. "I have a good life. A nice boss, friends, a comfortable life, and I'm... well, I'm really beginning to make the effort to fit into this univ-- life. For the first time in a long time."
Seeming to realize that she was actually discussing her personal life with a complete stranger, she cut herself off and chuckled nervously.
Her assertions didn't fool him. She may be trying harder than she had before, but she still wasn't comfortable being here, and that helped him a great deal. His doubts and guilt were slowly beginning to slip away.
Turning more fully toward him, she lifted her blindfolded eyes in his direction and bit her lip. "Are you happy, Charles?"
"Ah. I, er, am... not un-happy," he said honestly. That would've been hard to say once upon a time--many times actually, too many times throughout his lives--but at this moment in his life, even before finding the key to getting back to Rose, his life did not actually suck. It'd been good for a while. There was Martha, and Donna.
Jack for a while.
Opnor for a year. Bit of an odd fellow, Opnor.
A few others here and there. No one that really stuck though.
But now he was back with Rose, on the verge of traveling with her again, talking to her--well, he was doing that now, but with her actually aware that it was him--holding her hand, hugging her tight. Life was pretty good at the moment.
Without a single thought that he could decipher, his hand landed on hers and he slipped his fingers in between hers, piggybacking her hand with his own.
"Sure you just wanna talk?" she asked softly, leaning toward him. Her other hand came up and clumsily rested against his cheek. "Are you sure you don't want something more?"
He wasn't.
With her breath wafting over his lips, her own hovering so near his, he found it hard to think, to work out what he wanted from her just now. Sex? Oh, yes. But that was supposed to come later, after they were back on the TARDIS and had a chance to get reacquainted. A kiss? Perhaps just talk? Why was he here? To see, without influencing her, what she wanted. Yes, that was it.
Licking his lips, he leaned in closer without having told his body to do so and the tip of his tongue slid across her upper lip, just a tiny touch, but she smiled and slid her hand to the back of his neck, drawing him closer.
"Tell me, Charles, what do you want?"
Without hesitation, he answered, "You, Rose Tyler," and heard her gasp, felt her body stiffen beside him. He could've smacked himself and his wayward tongue.
Jerking away from him, she drew her hand back as if burnt. "I know you! What, are you-- are you from Torchwood? Is that why you seem so familiar?" She reached up to remove the blindfold, but he grabbed her hands, holding them tightly.
"No, don't--"
"I knew it," she spat, lip curling up in disgust. "I knew I'd run into someone from Torchwood eventually." Struggling against his grip, she grunted, trying to stand, to get away from him, but he held her still, not loosening his grip any. "So, what? You saw my advert and had to come look at the freak show?"
"No," he denied, voice insistent, unable to let her think that even for a moment.
"Well, it doesn't matter, does it? Go on, look your fill. Run back to Torchwood and tell my fath-- tell Pete Tyler what his precious daughter is up to." Her voice lowered and she stopped struggling against him. "Not like he'll care anyway."
"That's not why I'm here," he told her softly, wanting, despite her fears, the opportunity this afforded him to use her name without her wondering how he knew.
Sighing, she relaxed back on the bed. He loosened her hands a bit. "Then why are you here? You are Torchwood. I know from experience that background checks are easily got around."
"I'm here because of you, Rose." Voice filled with honesty, he heard it shake just a bit and cleared his throat. Hand drifting to her cheek again, he smoothed his fingertips down her skin. "Just you. No other reason."
She shifted a bit, back to being more in her comfort zone. Fingers fisting in her shirt, she yanked it up and drew it over her head, tossing it aside, baring herself to his gaze. "Well, let's get to it then," she told him, reaching back to unhook her bra, and then suddenly he was staring at her bare breasts.
Only for a moment though. Before he could move, or protest, or even finish taking a breath, Rose was straddling his lap, pressing her mouth to his. His arms went around her automatically, feeling warm, smooth flesh under his palms as she kissed him hard, determinedly, breathing heavily though her nose as she attacked his mouth, moving on him, giving him no chance to stop her.
Did he want to?
Arousal, still burning in him from earlier, from his first glimpse of her website, from all that jealousy for the men--many men--and women who'd come before him, fought to the surface, taking over his hands.
He gripped her tighter, drawing up with her as she kissed him, holding his head still with a hand to the back of his neck.
Nails grasping at her sides, he followed her mouth when she drew away a bit, breathing harshly. "Rose--"
Her mouth pressed to his again, hard and punishing. "Name's not Rose in here. It's Di."
Breasts. Her breasts were bare and tight against his chest and he wanted more. It was a bit embarrassing how easily he was being drawn into her seduction. He knew what she was doing, and yet he couldn't find it in him to do more than hold her to him. And he wanted more. Bare legs and back and shoulders and knees, hips and elbows and ankles please.
Tearing her mouth from his, she fumbled with his tie, and somehow, that snapped him out of his haze. "I just came to--"
"Talk," she scoffed, sliding a hand down between them, cupping his crotch with nimble fingers. "Yeah, of course you did. Don't wimp out on me now, Charles." Leaning down to nip at his ear and jaw, she cupped him tighter, whispering huskily, "Do I know you? Did we meet more than once?" Biting his ear, forcing a shudder to go through him, she sucked the flesh into her mouth. "Did you watch me from afar? Fantasize about me? Fantasize about shagging the boss' daughter?"
"I--" he shuddered again, arching his hips up into her, seeking, seeking, seeking that friction that he needed so badly, that friction that she kept teasing him with. "I saw you in the halls," he murmured, pleased with himself for his honesty. "Wanted you. Always wanted you." Gasping when she pushed down onto his lap, he fumbled with his tie and jacket.
He'd wanted to wait until they were reacquainted and back on the TARDIS, but he couldn't, not with her moving on him like she was, grinding on his lap. His hands were full of her flesh. Her hair was brushing his fingers, tickling them while she kissed him.
This was what he'd wanted from her for so long. And now here it was at his fingertips.
She helped him shove his jacket off, then pulled at his tie, fingers slipping beneath the loose knot. "Can I take off the blindfold now... Charlie?"
A rush of breath escaped him as he tore his mouth from hers, halting her hands as they moved up to the black mask. "No." Mouth centimeters from hers, he stole a kiss and then another. "Leave it on."
"So, I do know you," she snickered. "Or you like a bit of kink with your freak."
He went still beneath her. "Stop that," he told her, grabbing her cheeks in his hands, threading his fingers into the strands of her hair. "Stop saying that. It's nothing like that."
Hand dropping between them again, she cupped his hardening erection, lips curving up slyly. "No? Feels like it to me." But then she pulled away suddenly, hands leaving him. His cock felt cold and empty without her fingers there, rubbing him. She crossed her wrists in front of her. "I've got restraints. D'you want to use them?"
There, in the back of his mind, he could see her tied to the bed, barely covered in lingerie, hair spread on the pillows, legs squeezing together as she shifted restlessly, begging him with her eyes and her luscious lips for him to take her. Shaking that image away, he forced his body to calm down, to slow his arousal.
The tightness in his cock lessened a bit. Though he was no less physically aroused, he had better control over it now.
"I'm only here because of you, Rose. I-- care about you." Scoffing silently to himself, he rethreaded his fingers in her hair. He wasn't about to tell her that he loved her while she was blindfolded and had no idea who he was. He'd save that for when he could look her in the eye and they weren't pawing at one another.
And, later, when things were solid between them--he nearly groaned at the thought of how solid he already was--they'd use her restraints. And that lingerie in his mind, he'd have to buy her some of that. A couple dozen of them in a rainbow of colors.
Though she was the one blindfolded, she took him by surprise when she pushed against his chest, sending him backward onto the bed. Her hands tore at his shirt, ripping it, sending the buttons flying. Shoving the ends of his shirt aside, she ran her hands down his chest, stopping with handfuls of his t-shirt. "D'you like it when I take charge, Charles?"
Her lips quirked up at the same time as his, and he knew she was thinking of that night he'd flipped the telly to an American show that they'd then spent days watching.
But her smile was gone a lot more quickly than he liked, and she was back to the seductress in no time flat. "You have a lot of clothes on..." she leant down and whispered just above his mouth, "does the thought of me undressing you get you hard?" Licking her lips, she lowered her voice even more. "Do you want me to suck you off? Or ride you?"
Rocking against him, she braced her hands on his stomach.
"You're getting hard, Charles."
Hard, he thought. Oh, definitely that. His mind had gone to so many nice places with her questions and the way she was moving on him, that he was slow to answer.
She grew impatient.
Sliding her hands under his t-shirt, she scraped her nails down his sensitive skin, making his stomach muscles jump. Drawing the thin cotton up with her hands, she exposed his chest to the cooler air, then quickly leant down and pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along his nipples and abdomen.
"Ah," he gasped, feeling a distinctly pleasant sensation go straight to his cock. Holding her hips, he bucked up into her, seeking friction for his straining erection.
Arousing a Time Lord wasn't like arousing a human male. Or many other species in the universe. It took a lot more direct stimulation, and Rose seemed to know exactly how to do it.
She had no idea though, he was sure of that. Because if she did, that'd mean several things that he wasn't ready to entertain at the moment. Or concentrate on. So he went with her being clueless about it and just getting lucky.
Snickering to himself, he thought, well, they were both getting lucky really.
And he was definitely aroused. Although not as much as he could be, and she seemed to think it her job to-- oh.
Of course it was her job.
And there was that anger and jealousy boiling up inside of him again. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he rolled them over, landing square on top of her.
She smirked and arched up into him, hands pushing his shirt off. Bare-chested now, he dove down for a kiss, another hot, fast, needy kiss, all lips and teeth and tongues, gasping breaths and-- crackers! Nails scraped down his back, forcing him to press against her, seeking relief from the wonderful stinging pain.
Skin met skin and Rose suddenly went still, though it was only for a moment.
Then she was moving again, leg lifting up between his, pressing against his cock, rubbing it, causing so many sensations to go through him that he was suddenly certain he wouldn't be able to last long enough to see to her.
That wasn't an option tonight. Though he'd really only come here to talk to her, to find out if she was happy with the way her life had turned out, it'd very much become something else.
A seduction by her, wanting to be on more even footing with a situation that she wasn't comfortable with.
Need and desperation for him, because he suddenly felt like he'd lose her for good if he didn't get through to her now.
Tearing his mouth from hers, ignoring his own groan of disappointment, he kissed his way down her jaw, putting his hands to work on her breasts; her beautifully rounded mounds of flesh, nipples hardening before his eyes, under his hands, tightening and puckering, inviting his mouth to taste them. Suck on them.
Kissing hungrily down her neck and shoulder, he cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples as his mouth slid hot, wet kisses along her warm, skin. His tongue flicked out, tasting her flesh, tasting Rose.
This wasn't the first time.
There'd been several kisses-with-a-reason between him and Rose before. Though he'd been so busy saving her life with the first one, he still remembered her taste. The second one was much more entrenched in his mind, though he'd known, even at that early stage, that something was wrong with her. The memory of those flavors were mere shadows though compared to actually kissing her, licking and sucking and tasting her flesh.
His body was quickly becoming overwhelmed by sensation; by Rose.
Pulling back, adjusting himself with a quick hand, he pushed her leg from between his and settled down between hers.
Her hands tightened on his back, hips arching up against him. Playing the part?
He could smell her arousal, but it was so faint, just a hint, a light, teasing scent. Most of her actions were for show, for him. Well, not any longer.
Kissing the top of one breast, he cupped the other, pinching the nipple as he lightly bit the other. Her hips shot up, and he grinned. Occupying himself with her breasts for a bit, he reached down between them and popped the button on her slacks, sliding his fingers down a bit, just to tease.
Her stomach muscles tightened as she sucked in a breath.
Licking her nipple, he roughly cupped her other breast as he undid the zip, parting the sides of her trousers, exposing her flat tummy even more, and showing him that she wasn't wearing any knickers. He didn't stop to ponder that though. It'd only anger him, maybe even cool his ardor, and he didn't want that to happen.
Yanking on her trousers, he kissed down her stomach.
"Thought you just wanted to talk?" she taunted, lifting her hips so that he could pull her trousers down her legs.
"You thought a lot of things," he told her, tossing the material in his hands to the floor.
"Hm," she said neutrally, neither agreeing, nor disagreeing. "Proving me wrong then, Charles?"
He went still, eyes darting to her face. He hated that name now, didn't want to be called it anymore, but he couldn't tell her to call him the Doctor either, there'd be no way to explain that away.
Then a thought occurred to him.
Crawling up her body, he kissed her again, unable to resist her lips now that he could have them. Her hands fumbled with his trousers and he allowed her to unbutton them and undo the zip before halting her. Pulling away from her mouth, he rested his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. "Rose," he whispered, wanting nothing more than to hear her say his name in response, but knowing that wouldn't happen.
Unless.
"Tell me what you want," he breathed, feeling her body shift restlessly under his, though not in arousal. Probably not. Yet.
"You," she answered immediately, taking his mouth again, forcing him to pull free of her.
Cupping her cheeks in his palms, he held her still, gazing at her tenderly. "No, you don't. You don't even know who I am." Pressing a soft kiss to her lips, he took a deep breath and gambled on something with higher stakes than he liked. "I told you, I'm here for you. All I want is you, but I want you to be happy too."
She squirmed under him again, hot breath bursting over his face. "Then stop talking and fuck me."
He didn't move, didn't give in to her. "What do you want, Rose?" Closing his eyes, he drew in a silent, shuddering breath. "Who do you want? Anyone you want to imagine me being, play pretend, I don't care, so long as that person is the one you want."
She went still beneath him. "People come to me to live out a fantasy, not the other way around."
Sliding a hand down her hip, he caressed the skin, moving lower and lower with his mouth. "But you are my fantasy, Rose. I don't need to live out mine because I've got it right here." Kissing her stomach lightly, he felt her draw in a breath and had the hope that she was enjoying his touches, not just pretending. "D'you have a boyfriend?" he asked casually, trying to get her talking and thinking about it, but then it suddenly occurred to him that she just might have.
That it was entirely possible that she had a boyfriend or lover waiting for her at home.
Body stilling, he waited for her answer.
"Just fuck me, Charles." There was annoyance and frustration in her voice and he felt her hands drop down again, cupping him, rubbing him hard, trying to arouse him to the point where he'd do as she said and just fuck her.
Anger shot through him. He grabbed her hand and tossed it from him. "Don't call me that."
One side of her mouth turned up. "Your name's not Charles," she said in sudden understanding, rising from the bed. She wrapped one hand behind his neck, the other moving back to his cock, slipping into the open area between the zip of his trousers to grab him tight. Her warm fingers wrapped around his hard flesh, making his cock twitch, making his hips buck up into her grip, making him gasp and drop his head back.
"No." The word was a denial on so many counts. Stilling her hand, he shuddered when she scraped her nails down his neck and shoulders. Moving quickly down her body, knowing the best way to get her to agree was to give her an incentive, he trailed a path of open-mouthed kisses to her belly and then spread her legs.
Her skin was warm and smooth beneath his lips, fluttering just a bit when he slid his tongue along her thigh.
"Is there someone you want, Rose? Someone you want more than anyone else?" Pressing kisses to her leg, he moved lower.
She'd gone a bit still and he wondered if he'd lost her interest, or peaked it.
Sliding his tongue along her knee, he glanced up to find her head tipped back, teeth gritted, hands fisted in the sheets. He continued quietly, "Someone you want to kiss you like this?" Mouthing her calf, he dug his fingers into her thighs.
She sucked in a breath.
Taking his time, he trailed kisses and caresses down one leg, stopping to lift her ankle to his mouth before moving to the other. He nipped and tongued and teased her calf until he got to her thigh. Inhaling deeply, head between her legs, he tilted his head to the side, hair brushing her legs, feeling her draw in another breath, hearing her moan. Darting his eyes up to her face again, he realized she was aroused.
Definitely aroused. And he wondered suddenly who she was fantasizing about.
He wanted it to be him of course, but couldn't be sure, not anymore. It'd been three years for her, and she wasn't giving up her secrets easily.
Deciding he needed to up the incentive a bit more, he moved closer to her, blowing on her hot flesh before sliding his tongue into her moist folds, forcing a moan to spill from his lips.
The taste!
It burst onto his tongue with a flavor he'd never experienced before, and he loved it. Loved new things to begin with, exploring new places, and his mouth was no different. This body was more sensitive than most of his other ones and right now, it was in heaven.
He worked his tongue deep inside her, seeking out all her flavors, all her textures, all the moisture it could find. And Rose seemed to like it. As he bit lightly on her clit, he uncurled one hand from her thigh and settled it on her stomach, sliding it higher to pinch her nipples.
Her hips shot up off the bed, up into his mouth, and more pleasure and heat and flavor washed through him. His tongue slid around her clit, that small nub of pleasure, filled to the brim with nerves that shot straight through her. And again, she moaned, and his mouth was flooded with flavor.
And he wanted more.
He wanted it all, every laste drop. Lapping it up like an eager puppy, he pressed closer, humming in delight.
Rose reacted immediately, hips bucking into his mouth, hand grabbing his, threading their fingers together, giving him hope. A few low, breathless sounds escaped her, not words as such, more just noises of pleasure. He repeated the action and she was no less reactionary this time.
And.
His eyes darted to her face, sure he'd heard her wrong. Certain his ears hadn't caught her whispered, "Doctor," certain the name, whispered so low that she didn't think 'Charles' would be able to hear, had to be wishful thinking. But he didn't say anything because he didn't want to scare her into not doing it again. So he pretended he hadn't heard, and continued his assault on her folds, wrapping his tongue around her clit and sucking.
Oh, she tasted gorgeous, all salty, and... slightly bitter with a hint of sweetness buried beneath it all. He felt like he had a never-ending jar of Rose before him and plunged his tongue in deeper.
Hand on her thigh, he widened her legs a bit, opening her folds to him more fully, but wasn't satisfied with just that. He slid a finger into her as well. Felt her legs pressing closer to his head. Not tightening against him, but holding still just enough for his hair to tickle the insides of her thighs and he realized then that that was part of her fantasy.
And he grinned, sucking harder on her clit.
He was now 78% sure that she was imagining he was... well, himself.
Opening his mouth to encourage her, he realized that it might just ruin it for her with his voice deeper and thicker than what she'd want to hear, so he snapped it shut again and concentrated on making her come. His cock was throbbing, aching, getting a little friction from the bed beneath him, but all he wanted was to be inside Rose.
Her hair, loosening from the holder she had it in, was beginning to fall down around her face, spreading out on the pillow as he'd wanted. Her mouth alternately pressed tight or parted with breathless gasps.
She was so beautiful, so flushed and aroused.
His eyes stayed on her as he nipped and teased and sucked her hot, moist flesh. Mouth covered in her glistening juices, he feasted on her until she was grabbing his head, fingers curling in his hair, pulling the strands, holding him exactly where she wanted him.
And the sounds she made!
He was certain they were real mews of pleasure, real cries, halted, partially-formed, before being released once again from between her parted lips, shaped around gasps and pants.
Her voice was climbing higher, coming out harsher, making him want to climb up her body, release his cock, and plunge it deep inside her, thrusting, thrusting, thrusting, never stopping until they were both screaming in pleasure. Both coming so hard it'd take hours to move again.
And then do it all over again.
But his pleasure would come after hers tonight. Maybe later he'd be less generous, but not tonight.
Rose arched up into his mouth again, seeking more of his tongue, muscles clenching tighter on his finger. He added another, and thrust them into her, murmuring, "Come for me. Show me how beautiful, how utterly gorgeous, you are, Rose Tyler."
She went still for a moment, and he could've kicked himself for ruining her fantasy, but she only gripped his hair tighter, and grunted, pressing down on his mouth, seeking release.
So desperate now that she didn't care anymore who he was? Or so far gone that he couldn't ruin the fantasy?
Neither. She turned her head to the side, hiding her face, biting her lip as he thrust his fingers faster, flicking his tongue against her clit. Her hips wouldn't stay still, muscled legs arching her higher and higher, knocking off his rhythm, making his tongue slip lower, and creating more frustration for her.
Holding her still with his free hand, he hooked his arm around her thigh, moving faster, deeper, plunging his tongue into her and swallowing down the taste, the flavor. Pressing his cock into the mattress for a little bit of friction, he forced himself to ignore his own needs and concentrate on hers. She was close, so close to coming.
He wanted to see it, wanted to watch her as she lost control, wanted to feel it as she clenched around him uncontrollably. Taste it as she flooded his mouth.
A groan escaped him and he pulled back a little, giving himself room to thrust his fingers deeper, faster, harder.
Her lips moved, forcing sounds past them, and he could've sworn he heard his name again, but she clenched her teeth tighter, straining, reaching for that relief of release. Fleet planted on either side of him, she bucked up, rocking into him despite his tight hold on her.
"Don't hold back," he whispered, smoothing his hand down her stomach briefly before she reached down and took it, holding on for dear life, nearly crushing his fingers.
Then she exploded in a display of pleasure, hand tightening around his, arm bracing her off the bed along with her feet, pressing her as high as she could and still keep his mouth on her. His tongue, such a busy little thing, buried itself deep inside her folds, lapping up the flavors and the attention her clenching muscles were giving it.
Strangled sounds left her lips as she went still, every muscle in her body going taut for a few breathless moments. Then, gasping for breath, panting, she dropped to the bed, his name on her lips.
Over and over again, while his fingers teased her fluttering, clenching channel, she whispered his name like a prayer.
Satisfaction warmed him at the desperate sound of her voice wrapping around his name.
She relaxed onto the bed, settling back, seeming to only then realize that she was still gripping his hand. A feeling of loss swept through him when she released him, cooler air hitting his sweat-slickened palm, warmed by her touch.
Wrapping it around her thigh again, he watched her struggle for breath, watched the pleasure simmer in her.
Breathing heavily, she pushed onto her elbows, hair wild, skin flushed, chest rising and falling rapidly. Licking her lips--and he wasn't sure if it was all for show, or if she needed an extra moment to gather herself--she husked out her next words, and they made his stomach tighten and his cock jump eagerly. "Want to fuck my mouth now?" She paused and then purposely added, "Charles."
His anger and frustration jumped to the fore again, but this time, he used them to fuel his desire. Releasing her thigh, sliding his fingers free, he knelt between her legs and shoved his trousers down over his hips along with his pants. It was quick work to remove them and toss them aside.
Rose tilted her head to the side. Listening to the rustle of cloth, feeling the bed dip down, wondering, imagining what he was doing? Guessing, judging by the smirk lifting one corner of her mouth.
Crawling up her body, delighting in the surprised look on her face, he pushed her back. "Not your mouth," he leant down to tell her, taking his cock in hand and stroking it, finally able to take pleasure for himself, take pleasure from more than just seeing to hers. A groan slipped past his lips as his cool fingers slid up and down his hard flesh. First loosely, then with a quick, tight grip. "Touch me, Rose," he begged, and he didn't care anymore that he sounded desperate.
Dragging in a breath, he caught and held it as he caught and held her hand.
Placing it on his cock with a hiss, he bent back a bit, bracing himself with a hand to the bed behind him. Her fingers, hot--so hot and moist--took control of him, of the situation, of his body, teaching him a few things about himself in the process.
One, he really liked Rose touching him. His hips bucked forward with every stroke of her wonderful, wonderful hand.
Two, he was an impatient man when it came to sex. Well, while her hands were on him anyway.
She halted her ministrations and he nearly cried in frustration, but she was only adjusting her position on the bed, lying down for better control of her hand and-- ah... ah! Mouth. Oh, crackers!
How was this not the first thing he'd wanted after making her come? How was it that they'd never done this before? Good gravy, it should be illegal the way she swirled her tongue around him.
Had it felt this fantastic and wonderful for her, with his mouth on her? he wondered, grabbing her hair and holding tight. Her hand chased her mouth up his length and then back again, fingers squeezing and twisting while her lips pressed and sucked.
"Should've done this-- oh! Oh!--ages ago," he lamented, losing control and thrusting into her mouth. Just once.
She pressed her free hand to his hip and held him still, popping him free of her mouth. "Maybe we should've," she agreed, having no idea how much he wanted to rip her mask off. How much guilt went through him.
How much he felt like the lowest amoeba just then, because she had no idea who he was.
He clenched his hands into fists before remembering he was grasping her hair. Dropping the strands as she stroked him, he pushed her backward onto the bed. "I'm sorry, I can't wait any longer." Leaning over her, he grasped his cock, kissed her hard, and then thrust inside her warm, welcoming body, going perfectly still for fear of coming right then and there. And with the way her muscles fluttered and clenched around him, he thought she might be trying to make him. Her kiss was just as hard as his, giving nothing, but taking everything, forcing him to start moving, to stroke inside her hot, wet channel.
But then, after the first stroke, he couldn't stop, as he'd wanted to do, to regain control.
Bracing his arms on either side of her head, he drove into her, hard and fast. The feel of her surrounding him was like heaven and a comfy chair.
Pleasure spiraled in him, cock lapping up every bit of sensation. Thrusting harder, feeling her tightening around him, he didn't stop to tease her body, didn't stop to kiss her, just moved, stroking in a furious rhythm, seeking his own release, wanting so badly to come.
Desperately wanting to come. Inside Rose Tyler.
And that thought, like no other, had him slowing his pace, slowing to brace himself on one arm so he could slide his other hand to her neck, higher to her cheek, cupping it, holding her still for a kiss, clumsy and awkward, but involved.
She didn't smirk and call him a pansy, as he half expected her to, just kissed him back, as hard as he kissed her, lips and mouth following his when he drew back a ways to adjust his position. She adjusted hers as well, slipping her legs up beside his hips, forcing him deeper.
Swallowing thickly, beginning to lose control again, he slowed the bucking of his hips and slid his hand down to her clit. Rubbing quickly, with no time to waste building her up again slowly, he thrust his cock deep inside her and went still, concentrating solely on her.
"Don't worry about me," she moaned, the thickness of her voice and the movement of her hips belying her words. Her hands scraped down his back in stinging rivulets of pleasure, legs lifting to wrap around his waist.
Reaching down to secure them better, to make them tighter, he slipped in even deeper and his tight rein of control snapped.
With one, last ditch effort, he kissed her, biting her lip on accident, bruising it, knocking their teeth together. But she didn't draw away, just raised both hands to the back of his head and held him there, kissing him with abandon.
His hand dropped to the bed and he began moving in her again, fast, furiously driving his cock into her, and she rose up to meet his every thrust, not letting up on his mouth, distracting him with her tongue and lips. She was making delicious sounds of pleasure, grunting and gasping.
Nothing artificial in them at all. In fact, he knew she was enjoying herself, knew, though she'd tried to pretend for a while that he didn't affect her, that she was extremely aroused.
That thought alone nearly made him come, but he managed to hold back, groan of frustration on his lips. Her heels dug into his lower back and he was sure it was a feeling he'd never forget, would want all the time now that he'd had it.
But the warm, moist flesh surrounding his cock was taking priority. She was squeezing him so hard, so tightly.
So deliciously.
And he realized that, though she was trying to make him come quickly, she was also seeking her own release, torn about what to do. Well, he'd make the decision for her.
Bracing himself on one arm, he frantically rubbed her clit again, trying, hoping, praying she'd come before him. He wanted to be in her when she did, wanted to feel her body's uncontrollable sensations flow through his cock this time. Just the thought of it was making it hard to hold on, but he managed. Just barely.
Her muscles tightened around him unexpectedly and a gasping, breathless sound slipped from her throat, fingers clenching on his head, but pulling away from his mouth. "D--" she began, but quickly cut herself off.
Continuing to drive into her, he encouraged, "Go on, say his name." Harder. "Please, Rose." He was practically begging now. "Say his--"
"Doctor," she grunted out. And then again as her orgasm washed over her.
His name, coming from her lips, in that throaty voice he loved as she clenched around him uncontrollably, just as he'd wanted, made him lose what little control he'd been hanging on to. He pounded into her, driving hard into her warm, slick folds, with short strokes. Her muscles grasped him so tightly, with so much friction that he couldn't hold back any longer.
His balls, slapping wetly against her arse, began to draw up, and his cock twitched just before he buried himself in her one last time, hips bucking hard into hers. Wave after wave of spasming relief shot from his cock, into her. For moments, he was suspended above her, body shaking. Her muscles held him firmly, clenching on him, milking him of every last drop as she caressed his back, smoothing her hands down it, legs still wrapped firmly around his waist.
She seemed nearly as affected as he, almost as breathless, and he was sure it was real. Not faked. Hands clenching in the sheets beneath them, he dropped on top of her, holding back most of his weight. Instead of loosening from around him immediately, as he'd thought she would, she stayed wrapped around him and even let him lie on her and slide his hands beneath her back to hold her to him.
Forehead resting on hers, letting her breath ghost over his face a few times, he pressed light kisses to her lips.
Kissing Rose wasn't just a press of skin to skin. It wasn't just a pleasant sensation, it was a feeling of home, and a flavor of love.
Oh, he was definitely lost.
Chuckling to himself, he kissed her again as his body began to relax. Her lips opened and she kissed back lazily, nipping at his lower lip, sliding her tongue along his, then retreating. Trailing soft, lazy kisses down her jaw to her neck, he rolled off of her, taking her with him so that she landed half on him. She sighed and settled against him, hair tickling his chest, fingers playing over his abdomen.
Making sure she could only hear one of his hearts from her position, he breathed deep.
Right now, in this very moment, life was perfect.
And it would stay that way, so long as he didn't take off her blindfold. He could get dressed, he thought, staring at the plain ceiling above him, examining the cracks absently as he considered his options. Leave without telling her who he was. Just walk out of the room and leave her curious about her strange client from Torchwood.
He could meet her later in the week then, on the street, pretend he'd only just arrived. Pretend he had no knowledge of how she sounded when she came, that he didn't know the feel of her skin, the warmth of her touch, the taste of her kiss.
The edges of the lace mask gently brushed his chest when she pressed her cheek into him, getting comfortable. "Gonna tell me your real name, Charles?"
Her voice was soft and relaxed and each word made him more tense, each second that passed made him want to leave, to get in the TARDIS, and stop himself from ever coming here, because there was no way to avoid the inevitable now.
He'd come to her, disguised his voice and told her countless lies amongst a few truths. Tricked her into sleeping with him. He really didn't think she'd jump into his arms and thank him.
Although, that was possibility number twenty-one.
Fingers drifting higher to play with his chest hair, she sighed. "Okay. No names. Guess that means this," she tapped the edge of the black cloth covering her eyes, then dropped her hand back to his chest to resume its playful caresses, "stays put."
Smoothing his hand down her hair, freeing it from its holder, he spread the silky strands out around her shoulders, arranging them across his chest.
She reached up, slipping a lock behind her ear. Tucking his chin to his chest, staring down at her, he tried to take it all in; her hair, slipping free from her ear already, her warm, flushed skin against his own. Her hand on his chest, fingers threading lightly through the hair there, nails gently scraping against his skin.
Her breathing, slowing as the adrenalin left her body.
This, right here, right now, could be the last time he ever saw her again. But he was happy because he'd got to make love to her once, got to make her come, made her feel the intense pleasure he felt just being around her. Twice.
Knew now what it felt like to kiss her and hold her. To taste her.
Pressing his lips firmly to the top of her head, he tightened his arms around her. "I'm sorry," he whispered earnestly, closing his eyes and combing a lock of hair back from her face. "I'm so sorry."
Her whole body tightened on him, hand halting, curling into a fist. Her breathing stopped, then quickly resumed again, and he sighed at the words he'd inadvertently let slip. "What--" she began, voice so tight, she barely got the word out. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "What are you sorry about?"
He imagined he heard dread in her voice. Imagined there was accusation there as well, though he knew he was reading more into it than was actually there. Knew that, until he let her see him and she knew for sure, that he was overreacting.
Fingers playing along the edges of her blindfold, he took a deep breath, held it, then slipped the mask from her eyes. A sinking feeling settled in his stomach, dropping his hearts to the level of his abdomen.
This was it, the moment of truth.
His hearts were pounding so hard it put his earlier arousal to shame. If she didn't accept him back into her life, didn't want to be with him anymore because he'd ruined things between them... if she didn't want to travel with him anymore, he vowed at that moment to return to the hotel before his younger self got here and tell her who he was.
Dipping his head down, he admitted to himself that he wouldn't do that, couldn't take the easy way out.
Eyes on Rose, he watched and waited, prayed to no deity, no gods, just the universe itself. Prayed that it give him a break just this once and let him have his happy ending.
She didn't move, not a single muscle. Her eyes were squeezed shut, fingers still curled into fists. Back ramrod straight, she stared across the room at the wall behind closed lids. "Put it back."
Frowning, he blinked at her. That wasn't the response he'd been expecting. At all. It wasn't even on the List of Possible Reactions. Pushing up on his elbows, her stared at her. "But--"
"I don't..." she sighed explosively, loosening her stiff posture a bit. "It'll ruin the fant-- you told me to imagine you were someone else, and I did, and I'm sorry, but I don't think I want to know."
Adding her reaction the List, formerly made up of only twenty-five, now at twenty-six, he sat up and unwrapped his arms from around her, hands on her upper arms as he faced her, lowering his face to her level, wishing she'd open her eyes and look at him. "Oh, Rose Tyler... just open your eyes and see."
Shaking her head, she sat up and drew the covers to her chest, eyes still tightly closed. "I can't."
Seeing no alternative, he bent over the edge of the bed and grabbed his discarded jacket. Digging deep into the pocket, he pulled his sonic screwdriver free, palming the familiar tool, new since Martha and the moon, but so familiar even from then. They'd already been through so much together.
His eternal companion.
Sliding his thumb over the button, he glanced back at Rose, still stubbornly sitting with eyes closed. This was it. He was about to find out for good, no take backs after this.
For a moment, he considered dressing first, but didn't want an unfair advantage over her. Holding the screwdriver to his throat, he raised his eyes to her face.
His hearts ached at the sight. She was sitting on the bed, a sheet of creamy silk covering her body, legs drawn up to her chest, wild hair flowing down her back, a few locks of it curling down in front. She looked mutinous. And still, she was his fantasy come true. As of just a few minutes ago, she was his lover as well. Would always be his best mate. The owner of his hearts. And she had no idea.
It wasn't fair of him.
Holding a hand to her cheek, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "He's the luckiest man in the universe," he told her truthfully, feeling his chest swell with love.
Shrugging, slow smile slipping up her lips, she rested her chin on her knees. "Doesn't matter. He's gone now. Forever."
Sliding his hand down her cheek, thumb brushing over her lips, he whispered, "Luckiest man in two universes," and dropped his hand as her head shot up, brows dipping down, frown forming on her lips.
He pressed the button on the sonic screwdriver and saw her lips part in surprise at the whirring noise it made. Wishing he could take the hurt from her as easily as he'd fixed his voice, he reached out to touch her, but drew his hand back before making contact. "Rose--"
Drawing in a shaky breath at the sound of his voice, she shook her head and pulled back as if she'd sensed his need to touch her. "No."
It was a simple denial, but was it just of his identity, or of the entire situation?
Maybe of them?
"No," she repeated more forcefully, shoving away from him and climbing from the bed, standing with her back to him. She must've opened her eyes, because she bent down, picking up his trousers from the floor amid the remains of his suit. "It's not you," she said forcefully, though it sounded like a lie. "It's not-- you're Torchwood, you're here, playing-- you read my file, you know about... him."
"No, Rose. It's really me." He quickly climbed from the bed, and she went still as he stood beside her, wanting, but afraid, to touch her now.
Her hands rose, covering her ears. "Stop it! Just stop it!" But then laughter burst from her lips. "Oh, my god. You resonated your throat."
"I--" he began, then snickered lightly, grin sliding up his lips. "Well, yeah, guess I did. Easier than concrete."
Instead of laughter or chuckles in response, there was silence and he felt his smile fade, felt his hearts drop even further. But it was her words that hurt the most.
"Get out."
Response number three just jumped up to number one.
Settling his hand on her shoulder, he tried to brush a few strands of her hair behind her back so he could see her face better, but she shrank back, taking a large step away from him. "Rose--"
"I said get out," she nearly shouted, turning to face him, eyes moving over his face, taking him in, a quick scan of his features, confirming it really was him, then moving to the bed. When he didn't move, she grabbed her blouse from the foot of the bed, pulled it on and started searching for her trousers. "Fine, if you won't leave, I will."
He couldn't-- didn't want to let her leave him like this. Without explanations, without reasons. Without allowing him to show her how much she meant to him. To tell her that his life since losing her had been full and eventful, but empty. Without her.
Grabbing his trousers from where she'd dropped them to the floor, he stepped into them and did up the zip, about to button them when she slid into her own and stalked past him. He reached out and grabbed her arm, and she spun around, drew her fist back and punched him in the jaw, a little off base, just grazing him, but it hurt.
More than just physically.
"You bloody bastard!" she shouted, her own jaw clenched tight. "You tricked me. You made me believe-- I didn't even get a choice in the matter." Tears formed in her eyes, and her lip began to tremble. She rubbed her fist, knuckles probably aching from the blow. Her face fell, and her voice shook, "You said it was impossible."
Rubbing his hand over his aching jaw, moving it from side to side, he sighed and tried to close the distance between them, but she stepped back again, so he busied himself with finding his shirt instead. It was there on the floor, beneath him. Grabbing it up, he threw it on, but didn't bother buttoning it. "It was impossible." Scratching his head, he watched her for a few moments as she fidgeted with the button and zip of her own trousers. "Still is, mostly. Well, for anyone but me."
That didn't even earn him a twitch of her lips. She merely crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.
"I came back for you," he told her, imploring her to believe him, to understand. But he also knew that she had every right to be upset. He'd tricked her, just like she'd said. Came here under false pretenses. "I only wanted to talk," he murmured, wondering where it'd all gone so wrong.
She dropped her arms and combed her fingers through her hair, impatiently tucking the long strands behind her ears. "Yeah, I can see that." Her voice, he realized, was slipping back into her old accent, and it pleased him. Made him feel like Rose was retuning to him. She closed her eyes for a moment, then snapped them open again and swallowed thickly. "So, what? You found out... what I am now, and decided, 'eh, might as well shag her' yeah?"
"No," he snapped, getting angry now himself. Yes, the thought had certainly occurred to him, but not because of her profession. That'd only enhanced his own imaginings of having her, like a cherry on top of a sundae, seeing her unclothed and... that was a lie.
He had thought exactly what she was accusing him of.
Turning from him, she crossed the last few steps to the door and unlocked it, yanking it open. "Leave."
"You don't mean that," he said with absolute certainty, sticking his hands in his pockets, feeling on firmer ground than he had since entering the room. She might be angry with him, but she wouldn't really kick him out.
Her eyes narrowed and she stormed across the room, scooped up his clothes and shoved them at him, then grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the door. "Don't I?"
Not truly believing she'd force him out, he was left gaping at a closed door when she shoved him out into the hall and slammed the door shut in his face.
One of his Chucks dropped from his bundle, hitting his toe. "Ow!"
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Sub Rosa	By : sinecure Category: 1 through F > Doctor Who Views: 3821 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who and I make no money off of it.

Sub Rosa