The Butterfly

by WhatWeCan [Reviews - 2]

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  • All Ages
  • Explicit Sex
  • Angst

“Why doesn’t he fly away?”

The butterfly is perched on her soft pudgy palm; vainly beating its pink and yellow wings in the warm breeze. Her other hand is fidgeting sticky in his. The sugar of her long dissolved plum stick not quite licked clean.

Her fingers are coated with a pearlescent dust. The insect’s wings are nearly translucent.

“Because he was loved too much.”

With exaggerated care she sets the small insect in the bower of a silver leaf and turns to him, tossing her small arms around his neck.

“I love you too much. Don’t fly away again.”

He wraps his long arms around her tiny frame, tucking his face in her brown curls and breathing in their springtime scent.

“My stars and soil, moon and sky, I never will.”

She kisses his cheek with a wet smack and snuggles deeper into his arms, her eyes wide and trusting.

---

“Just take him with you.”

The woman disentangled the small boy’s arms from around her neck and shoved him towards the Doctor. He was holding a ragged stuffed something-or-other and screaming for his mother; his heartbroken cries lost in the din of the cloister bells.

She gives the child another push but he keeps running back to her, his arms reaching and lip trembling. He’s still young enough to believe that the nightmares won’t penetrate the circle of his Mother’s arms.

Fingering the small metal box in his hand the Doctor thinks of the Tardis with her multitude of levers and knobs. This device has only one small button.

“I can’t love, it doesn’t work that way.”

He gathers child up and presses it to its Mother, wrapping his arms around them both; wishing they were longer, stronger.

“Please, Dad. It’s all I’m asking.” She’s begging, but quietly now. She knows this is the end.

“My stars and soil, my moon and sky, forever and ever…I’m so sorry.”

He braces himself for the impact but it happens without even a breeze; just the empty circle of his arms where she’d never even existed.

---

Rose is the sun.

There’d been two on his planet, but for him there’s just her. She’s propped up on her elbows on top of his outspread jacket, laughing at the brightly colored transports that swoop overhead. He can actually feel her smile shining on his skin; a warm absolution.

“Rose?”

“Yeah, Doctor?”

“I want to kiss you.”

“Ok…”

The Doctor exhales a long stream of air through his lips. He feels better after having made the confession; the bands around his chest loosen a bit. She’s grinning at him now like he’s the silliest thing in the universe.

“Doctor?”

“Yeah?”

“Look, I’m not the biggest expert but usually kissing involves a lot more touching and ummm… lips.”

The Doctor scrambles, turning toward her so quickly he slips off his elbows a bit. His eager gob playing for time.

“Oh, ok. I see now… you meant ok as in ok, ok. Ummm ok.”

He’s not quite sure how he closes the distance between them. A moment ago she’d seemed light years away. But based on their respective positions he must have executed some brilliant maneuver like leaning over, cradling her jaw and pressing his lips to hers. He is a genius after all.

Or maybe; he amends as Rose pulls his bottom lip between hers; she’s the genius. The Doctor rocks his hips against her pressing her against the ground and surrounding them with the scent of crushed apple grass.

There’s little more than instinct carrying him forward now. It’s been centuries since he’s done this and even then only with a member of his own species. He desperately tries to remember his Biology of Lesser Species classes at the Academy to fill in the details.

Any minute now Rose is going to change her mind. She’ll laugh this off like it was just another of his antics, and punch him lightly on the arm and suggest they go see what New Earth chips are like. Even now she’s pulling him to his feet and handing him his coat, mumbling something about the Tardis. He can’t quite make out what she’s saying though because her lips are still pressed against his throat and their warmth is really distracting.

“I said… shouldn’t we take this to the Tardis? Doctor?”

Oh right, Tardis. He can barely make it back fast enough.

---

Rose’s eyes are wide and her hair is spread in a golden corona on his pillow as the Doctor buries himself inside her. He pulls back and it’s torture, he surges forward and it’s a place where the terrors of the universe can never chase him.

He’d meant to make this slow and tender, but she moans and clenches around him and he needs to hear her make that sound again. So he drops his hand to the place where they’re joined, gathers her moisture and strokes her where she needs it most.

Her voice is broken now, she’s getting closer, “Doctor… please.”

His rhythm falters and he drops his forehead to her shoulder, tasting the sweat of her arousal.

“No… don’t call me that… it’s not my name...”

He brings his lips to the shell of her ear nipping it a bit and whispering the name he hadn’t heard in ages.

She repeats it, the notes foreign and toneless on her tongue. It’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

She shatters, clenching his neck and writhing beneath him. He follows her, a white light bursting behind his eyes and his cock pulsing and pouring seed into her.

Rose is the sun, and he’s hopelessly caught in her orbit.

---

Of course he’d seen the solution long ago, but he’d just taken his time getting there, milking his last moments with her. Rose had beamed at him; ridiculous 3D glasses perched on her lovely face. She still believed in forever.

He’d wanted to memorize Rose but all he could see was the defeated slump of Jackie’s shoulders behind her. She’d sensed it coming a mile away.

He slips up on Rose as she’s arguing. She’s pointing at the jump button in her Mother’s hands like a flung accusation.

“There’s no way I’m going to wear that, I’m never going to leave him.”

He meets Jackie’s eyes as he slips the silver chain over Rose’s head. Before she can react he’s buried his face in her hair and taken one last breath slamming his hand down on the big yellow button that rests against his beloved’s chest.

He’s still filled with the scent of her as his arms clutch empty air.

---

She’s gone back now; her small form crouched by the butterfly.

“If he can’t fly why doesn’t he just regenerate?”

“He can’t love, it doesn’t work that way.”

She scrunches up her face at him and he can see her trying to process why something so beautiful would only have one life. He doesn’t know how to explain it to her, that everything one day fades.

“Well can we take him home then?”

“I think we’d better.”

That makes her happy; she bounces back up to her feet and looks around for a leaf or something to carry the insect on.

“What should we call him?”

The Doctor thinks.

“How about, Icarus?”