amberfocus | Body Glitter (2/3)

Chapter Two

His eyes are fathomless as he looks at her but he doesn’t protest, simply strips off his jumper and jeans, then the boxer briefs. He is already barefoot. Rose tries not to let her eyes stray, keeps them firmly focused on his face, on the eyes that don’t seem to want to let hers go. She knows she’ll have to look eventually, to see what she’s doing, but she’s trying as hard as possible to respect his dignity. He trusts her to do this and he doesn’t need her ogling him like he’s nothing more than eye candy. He didn’t do that to her. She owes him that much.

“Turn around,” she tells him. He does so without a word and she allows herself to relax a bit out from under his searching gaze. Her eyes roam over the expanse of his back, the ridges of his shoulder blades that stand out in sharp relief, a defined line of purple sparkling in the room’s diffused yellow light. His back tapers down, the small of his back indented and the perfect place for laying kisses, she thinks, before stopping that train of thought rather violently in its tracks.

Her eyes dip lower over the firm, tight buttocks and down to the well-muscled runner’s thighs and the strong calves. “Rose?”

“Sorry,” she says quickly, dipping her fingers into the pot and taking the resultant handful of goop and spreading it across his neck and shoulders. She rubs it into the backs of his arms and if her fingers spend a little too much time kneading it into the small of his back he doesn’t say anything. She is careful not to spend too much time on his arse, tempting as it is. She puts one trainer clad foot between his ankles and nudges him into a wider stance before kneeling behind him and smoothing the messy cream along the insides of his thighs, the backs, and the outsides. She fights down the urge to kiss the back of his knee and finishes with his legs and then with an almost painful intake of breath she rises back up.

“I think…I think, you can do the rest, Doctor,” she says shakily.

The Doctor’s voice sounds odd as he replies, “I’m afraid I’ll miss a spot. I’m so impatient to have this done and I don’t want to have to do it again. Why don’t you just…” He gestures somewhat helplessly with his hands. “Just finish it off.”

“Okay,” she says. “Lean your head forward. I need to get it in your hair.”

He does so and she tugs him down a bit lower. It is only as she’s rubbing the goo into the back of his head that she realizes his forehead is resting against her breasts and her breathing quickens. She finishes quickly and pushes his head back up then moves onto his chest, her fingers moving across the chest hair and over his strong pectorals. She forces herself to just glide over the nipples and not return to play with them but she cannot help but notice how hard they’ve become.

She moves her hands across to his shoulders again and then down one of his arms. When she reaches his hand it turns into more of a massage as she rubs the gooey cream in between each finger and delicately up to the pad on each tip before tracing it lightly across his palm. He shudders and she glances up in surprise, her own breath hitching at the darkness she finds in his eyes. Just as quickly it’s gone and she’s sure she must have imagined it. When she does the other arm and hand his eyes are tightly shut, revealing nothing.

Her hands move next to slide across his rib cage, down his abdomen and he sucks his breath in sharply as she reaches his hip bones. She keeps her eyes from focusing on his masculinity, dropping down and working on his feet, telling herself she can do this without sneaking a glance. As she works her way up his legs, though, she finds it impossible not to look, not to see his penis.

He is erect and standing tall and even with the unnatural color and glitter he is magnificent. She quickly glances away telling herself sternly not to take it personally that he’s aroused. She knows he doesn’t feel that way for her; that any man being touched like this, even an alien one, would react this way with a female running her hands all over his body. She ignores the shaft that is now all but waving in her face, tamps down hard on the desire that suddenly surges through her and leaves her wet and longing to take him into her mouth.

She’s ready to sob as she finishes covering him everywhere but where she most wants to touch him and then stands up and covers his face, her fingers ghosting over forehead, eyelids, cheekbones, his strong jaw line and neck then back across his nose and finally slowly across his lips before taking a step back.

“You…you missed a spot,” he tells her in a voice that is almost a growl. He gestures to his intimate parts and she blushes violently

“Doctor, I can’t…I can’t touch you there.”

“Yes,” he says, “you can.”

But she shakes her head. “NO! You don’t understand. I can’t.” If she does she’ll lose all control.

“I’m giving you permission, Rose.”

Rose feels another wave of desire course through her, feels herself getting wetter and hopes to heaven that the sudden flaring of his nostrils and the intense look he suddenly turns on her doesn’t mean he can smell what’s happening to her. She swallows hard, tries to gather her courage, but hesitates for too long and he dips his fingers into the pot and finishes the job himself. Rose is both relieved and disappointed but forces herself to sound as natural as she possibly can. “It has to stay on for five minutes,” she says with false brightness, talking far too quickly. “Then I’ll help you make sure you get it all off. Then bingo, no more purple Doctor.”

It is an agonizingly slow five minutes. She can’t think of anything to say and he seems to have gone into one of his brooding phases. It is becoming harder and harder to keep from sneaking another peak at him and she’s about to break and just look when, with his perfect sense of time, he announces the five minutes are up. Rose kicks off her shoes and socks and dashes into his bathroom and starts the shower going. “Get in, get wet, and then we soap you up and get it all off. The dye should wash away and you’ll be back to your old self in no time.”

Rose steps in behind him still fully clothed. He doesn’t answer her and if she’s a little too enthusiastic as she scrubs his backside and hair, he doesn’t say anything. He takes over and cleans the front and then she stands there and watches him as the water rinses away all trace of the purple glitter, his body returning to its natural healthy skin tone.

“Much better,” says Rose. “Back to your regular gorgeous self.” Then realizing what just slipped out of her mouth she quickly turns away from him so he can’t see her blush.

“Better make sure it’s all gone,” he says hoarsely and she moves to inspect the hidden parts of his skin.

“Free and clear. You’re all back to normal,” she says as she steps away from him a moment later.

“Not quite,” he grates out.

“What? Did we miss something?”

“I know you don’t want to touch me there, Rose, but I can’t see the underside of my penis or testicles,” he says matter-of-factly.

Rose feels her face flame and she takes in a deep breath. It’s now or never. She kneels down and with shaking hands she cradles his balls in her hand and lifts to look underneath. “There’s still a spot of the cream here,” she says shakily and takes some soap from the bottle he offers her. She rubs it in with delicate fingers and then rinses him clean. Her gentle hands move upwards and she sees that there is some of the residue left on his penis as well.

She takes another handful of soap and she rubs it up and down the underside of his shaft. The Doctor, already erect, lengthens and hardens further under her ministrations and suddenly she’s got her hand grasped all the way around him and she’s sliding along him from root to tip and he’s shuddering and groaning out, “Rose.”

His saying her name snaps her out of her trance and she hastily rinses him off and scrambles to her feet. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t mean to…I didn’t--.”

“Rose. It’s all right.” How can he be so calm about this?

“You’re all clean,” she manages to squeak out.

“You sure? Maybe you better double check.” Is fate torturing her now? She glances up at his face. Is that humor twinkling in his eyes? Is he laughing at her reaction? At her attraction to him? How could he? Tears of frustration come into her eyes and she backs away from him.

“I don’t want to,” she tells him turning her back on him.

“Right,” he says flatly, “My mistake. I thought, maybe, you wanted me.”

“But I do,” she blurts before she can stop herself. “Too much.” Her eyes find his and she admits, finally, “It’s all I want to do. Touch you. Be with you. And I’m sorry, because I know you don’t want that with me; could never want that with me.” She can’t stand the pity she is sure is flashing in his eyes as he looks at her. Her gaze falls to the floor. “You’re a Time Lord, important, and I’m just…I’m human. And…I shouldn’t have said any of this. I promised myself I would keep it to myself and now…now I’ve ruined everything by telling you and—and—.”

She tries to make a hasty retreat but the Doctor grabs hold of her wrist as she flees and pulls her back into the shower. Her clothes are already soaked from helping him, but now her hair is drenched, too, and clinging to her face as he backs her into the shower wall and his mouth descends on hers and he is kissing her hard as he grinds his hips into her body, his erection full and like steel against her stomach.

When he tears his mouth away from hers he asks, “Does this feel like I don’t want you?”

Three: http://amberfocus.livejournal.com/186111.html