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| Tenth Doctor | |
While Ye May by cordelialear [Reviews - 1]  | |
She lay on her back as he whispered his fingertips over the exposed skin of her torso. He was brushing kisses along her collar bone, when he suddenly stopped, and looked into her eyes, a wild confusion about them.
“I’m about to make love to you,” he wondered, and she couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips at his awe.
She slid her hands into the wild mane of his hair, causing him to close his eyes. She listened to his soft breathing, and relished in the feeling of just being happy.
The Doctor broke her from her reverie by sitting up abruptly.
“It’s too soon, isn’t it,” he stated flatly.
“What?” she asked as she propped herself up on her elbows.
“This feels like too much too soon. I should be saying things to you, first. I should tell you about what I’ve been through. What happened when I lost you. The people I’ve met, the things I’ve done. You should be able to decide for yourself. I can’t just rush you into this.”
“Doctor, I’ve been trying to get back to you for three years now. I don’t really think we can call this ‘rushing’ into anything. We were dancing around this for practically as long as we’ve known each other. Besides,” she sat up, resting her hands on his shoulders, “I haven’t been with a man for five years. Six, if you count the year I lost on our first date.”
She tugged him forward as she lay back, letting her hands drift to the back of his neck to play with his hair while she kissed him. He pulled back, something mischievous in his eyes, smirking in a way that was decidedly Doctor.
“Six years? Really? Blimey, no wonder you’re so quick to roll over.”
“Oi! I thought we’d gotten over the rudeness!”
“Sorry, right, sorry. Well, if we want to get right down to the facts, it’s been over three hundred years for me, so we might as well say we’re even-steven on that matter.”
He lowered himself to kiss her, but she pulled away suddenly.
“Hold on, three hundred years?” Her features were scrunched up with concern. “How long have we been apart?”
He looked at her as though he expected her to begin drooling any second, and in the most condescending manner he could muster, he replied, “About two years.”
She was too confused to be irritated. “But, but what about Madame du Pompadour?”
“What about her?”
“You said–you said you’d danced with Madame du Pompadour!”
He sat up once more, rubbing his eyes, before ruffling his hair.
“No, I said that I danced with Madame du Pompadour. Literally, in this case. Although, I did say that I’d snogged her, so I can see where you might get that impression…” He seemed to consider this for a moment.
“So, three hundred years.”
“Three hundred years,” he confirmed.
He was leaning forward to kiss her again--
“But what about that tree-woman?”
“Okay, rule number one--” he began.
“Don’t wander off?” she quipped.
“Rule number one in the bedroom,” he looked at her pointedly, “No bringing up old relationships… And,” he added as an afterthought, “don’t wander off.” His grin was positively rakish.
“No chance of that,” she purred, pulling him back down.
Her fingers were entwined in his hair and his tongue was down her throat, when the phone rang. They both looked up at the same time, and then back at each other.
“Don’t answer it,” he said.
“No,” she hastily agreed.
The phone continued its campaign to interrupt, as they worked to get his shirt off. As soon as the unwanted garment was across the room, she was in his arms again, running her fingertips over his ribcage as he slid one bra strap down her arm, kissing the newly exposed skin he found there.
The ringing continued as she ghosted her fingertips down to his belt, unfastening it and sliding it out of its loops as quickly as he would let her still enamored with her shoulder, as he was. It was just as he’d found her pulse point that the ringing stopped.
“Oh, thank God.” Rose breathed. He chuckled into her skin.
“I take it you like this,” he murmured.
“I like it even more, now that the phone stopped ringing.”
He nipped at her skin, and she closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of him touching her. He began dragging the bra strap down her other arm, trailing warm, wet kisses across her chest just above her breasts. When he dipped his head lower between them, and began showering attention on the sensitive skin he found there, she heard a moan escape her.
His hand, which had been busy with her bra strap, began a slow caressing descent down her torso, to the clasp of her trousers. He was dragging the zip down agonizingly slowly, when a series of loud knocks shattered the ambiance.
He stilled against her, sighing loudly, and she had to agree.
As if on cue, Jackie Tyler’s voice called out, “Rose! Rose! Your father got us a ride, but we have to leave now.”
Annoyed, and quite clearly aroused, he pulled himself off of her, and offered her a hand to help her sit up.
“Well, there’ll be no doubt what we were up to,” she smirked admiring the prominent bulge in his trousers.
“Rose!” Jackie screeched.
“Yeah, don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” he grumbled, collecting his discarded clothing while heading for the bathroom.
“Coming, Mum!” she called out, a bit more fiercely than she’d meant to.
Rose tugged her shirt on, and smoothed down her hair as best she could, before heading for the door.
“Rose, we’ve got to go,” Jackie began.
“Yeah, got that, thanks,” she replied tersely.
Jackie craned her neck past her daughter, “Where’s he, then?”
“He was just getting into the shower,” the Doctor replied walking out to join them.
Jackie eyed them suspiciously. “Sorry, was I interrupting something?” she challenged, shooting him the patented Tyler death stare.
“Actually--” he began, harshly.
“Mum,” Rose cut him off, “when’s our ride getting here?”
“’Salready here, love. Come on, I won’t keep your dad waiting any longer. He’s no doubt been spoiling your brother.”
Rose looked up at the Doctor, and found him looking right back at her. They let out a collective sigh, and trailed behind Jackie towards their new life.
The Doctor leaned into Rose, “Rule number one, keep your mother away from the bedroom,” he muttered.
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