Take Me Dancing
Mar. 25th, 2008 08:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amberfocusA/N: Okay, since there won't be a chapter of Wolf Moon from me tonight, I'm posting this. It's Ten and Rose but you can pretend it's Nine if you want to. I had a hard time making up my mind when I wrote it whether I wanted it to be Nine or Ten, but ultimately decided on Ten because of the rambling mind nature of the inner monologue. It was my first attempt at writing smut and it didn't really turn out to be smut, it turned out to be a lot of teasing and flirting with non-explicit sex of the more lyrical varitey, but I still loved the outcome and hope you do as well.
Take Me Dancing
What the hell is she wearing? the Doctor asks himself as Rose wanders into the console room. Is that even a dress? He really needs to pick his jaw up off the floor before she notices it’s hanging open, but all closing his mouth does is make him swallow. Loudly.
It’s true that the…outfit seems to be covering everything that needs to be covered properly, but the bits that it shows seem very…revealing to his oh, so wandering eyes.
Take Me Dancing
What the hell is she wearing? the Doctor asks himself as Rose wanders into the console room. Is that even a dress? He really needs to pick his jaw up off the floor before she notices it’s hanging open, but all closing his mouth does is make him swallow. Loudly.
It’s true that the…outfit seems to be covering everything that needs to be covered properly, but the bits that it shows seem very…revealing to his oh, so wandering eyes.
“Where,” and his voice squeaks so high he coughs and starts again, “Where did you pick that up?”
“What?” she asks coyly or at least he expects it’s coyly because there is no way she cannot know what that particular article of clothing is designed to do to a man.
“That, erm...thing you’re wearing.”
She looks down then back up at him and blinks innocently. “The ankle bracelet?” she asks, sitting down on the jump seat and crossing her legs slowly so she can swing one ankle higher for his perusal. “Got that at Rigel.”
He hadn’t even noticed the delicate silver anklet that lay loosely across her left ankle. It seems to have a charm similar to the human caduceus hanging from it. On Rigel this particular design translates directly to the word doctor and was not a symbol for the medical profession itself as on Earth. She can’t know that, can she? If she does she’s certainly bringing their flirting to a whole new level. “No, not the anklet,” he says not able to look away from it until she shifts her leg and then flexes her foot, letting it rest lightly against his thigh.
“The shoes then?” And he looks down at the translucent slipper that adorns her foot, arching it perfectly to show off its own natural rise and the lovely painted toenails. He shakes his head no but she doesn't seem to see.
“They’re surprisingly comfortable. Found them in a little shop on Deneb 8.”
“Not” and his voice shook as she slid the shoe up his thigh a little higher, coming dangerously close to a part of him she’s never purposely touched in the past, before sliding it back down and away from him. “Not the shoes, either.”
“Then you must mean,” and she hops down from the jump seat while he tries not to notice what a lovely little bounce it gives to just the right places, “My dress.” She runs her hands down the smooth, brilliant red fabric, which means she runs it over her breasts, hips and upper thighs because it really doesn’t cover much more of her than that. No mistake now that she's raised the flirting bar.
“Yeah,” he mumbles.
“Isn’t it magnificent? Teripsian silk. You remember? That little market just outside the rain forest?” She takes a step closer and he tries to remember the last time he took her to the marketplace there, but for some reason his mind refuses to think about anything except the woman standing directly in front of him. “It feels amazing against my skin.”
“I was under the impression that that was just…cloth.” And his voice is squeaking again by the time he finishes the sentence.
Rose shrugs and he wonders if she might fall out of the bottom of the top portion of that dress if she makes that motion too often and then he wonders how often he can make her shrug before sharply putting an end to that train of thought. Or if not an end, a derailment.
She turns in a slow circle and he can see that the outfit wraps about the back of her neck, then comes down in two wide strips that diagonally encompass her breasts before sliding around to the back to crisscross there, returning to the front in another crisscross, round the back, to the front again, then one last twist behind and up through the bottom of the skirt to a knot in the middle of her back.
“It came with instructions about how to wrap it all around my body and then how to tie it off. It clings to the skin, so I’m not actually in any danger of it falling off.” He pouts mentally then quietly berates himself for pouting. “The lady at the shop said,” and Rose moves a step closer to him, “That it would be perfect to wear if I wanted to have someone take me dancing.”
He’s gulping again, his eyes drawn to the exposed diamond-shaped expanse of her midriff and to the lovely navel in the center of it. “So what do you say, Doctor?” Her voice is heavy with seduction as she lowers her eyes.
“About what?”
She puts her hand on his arm and closes the remaining distance between them. “Do you want to?” she whispers in his ear.
He can’t even remember what she’s asking him now and he really doesn’t care. Whatever it is he’s sure it must be a very good idea. “Yes. Sure. Whatever you want, Rose.”
She squeals and throws her arms around him and she was right about how wonderful that silk feels, with the added bonus of how what it contains feels, pressing up against him. He can almost feel the fabric through the thin cotton of his shirt. His suit jacket having been abandoned earlier in the day is not there to afford him its meager protection against the tantalizing fabric or the tantalizing girl that he’s holding. He wonders what would happen if he takes the knot that is suddenly under his hands and gives it just a little tug, but before the thought can even fully form she’s pulling back from him.
She takes his hand and pulls him towards the doors of the TARDIS. “Come on. There’s a nightclub just three blocks from here.” Her eyes sparkle.
Nightclub? His mind runs the conversation back in his head without the distraction of actually looking at her. Oh, Rassilon, he’s just agreed to take her dancing. And he can tell by her excited chatter and her grip on his hand that there will be no squirming out of it this time. And really, maybe this new body will be just fine at dancing. He really doesn’t want to disappoint her.
The bouncer doesn’t even let them get in line, instead waving them immediately into the club. He’s pretty sure that’s all Rose and her outfit, even if he is rather pretty himself this time around. He tries to sit with her at a table, but she’s not looking to do anything but move. “Dance with me, Doctor,” she says and the tone she uses makes his hearts race faster.
And he knows that if he doesn’t there will be no shortage of volunteers to take his place, for the eye of every unattached male in the place is on her and from the venomous looks some of the women are throwing at Rose some of the attached men are looking at her a little too long as well.
He lets her pull him out under the flashing lights and her body begins to move to the throbbing rhythm and all he can think to do is put his hands on her waist in the bare patch of skin. She leans back against his hands so he’s holding her up as she shimmies backwards. He’s just standing there watching her undulate and wishing that he could undulate with her in a way that is totally inappropriate for a dance floor and likely totally inappropriate in any public situation.
When the music changes she stops leaning backwards and the next thing he knows she’s got her back to him, one arm hooking up behind her to hold him behind his neck. His hands are around her waist again, splayed across her abdomen and her free hand rests on top of them. Her hips swing back and forth and his move with hers as if magnetically held together and he knows that things are going to get completely out of control if this keeps up too much longer, yet he cannot get himself to pull away, his body overruling the weak commands his mind keeps sending it until eventually his brain stops trying. He didn’t even know it was possible to dance this way and he wonders if the girl in his arms has any idea how much he just wants to throw her against a wall and have his way with her.
The song ends and she’s twisting around again to face him. Her arms slide across his chest and up around his neck, his are still around her waist, she pushes up against him and they are slowly swaying to the soft, slow romantic pulse of the new song. He buries his face in her shoulder and the smell of her just about does him in.
A wave of honeysuckle and vanilla and something else he can’t quite identify invades his senses, while his cheek rests against the delicious fabric that is covering her creamy white shoulder. He is completely aware of her hand tracing a pattern on the back of his neck, the sensation like a slow burn working its way downwards, and his own hands stray to that knot in the back of her dress.
He’s wanted her before this moment. Many times and in many places and not just in this incarnation, but this goes beyond that. In the past he’s pushed it aside because he has always known that’s a line he should not cross with her. She’s too young, too innocent in the ways of the universe, and too important to him to ruin their relationship because his treacherous new body seems to have developed a bad case of new new hormones. He thinks about it far too often these days and his will has been bending the more time he spends alone in her presence.
Someone stumbles into Rose from behind and she’s thrust forward against him, her hips driving into his and his last bit of resolve completely breaks. He’s pulling her out of the club like a mad man and dragging her back to the TARDIS, ignoring her startled exclamations.
Once inside the TARDIS he stops only long enough to flip a switch and music echoes through the console room and corridors of the ship. Then he’s swaying with her again, no space between their bodies and no way for her to not know what is happening as he pushes against her. His desire is painfully obvious, trapped between their two bodies, making his intentions clearer than they have ever been. All hesitation is gone, for he knows exactly what he intends to do now.
Her eyes rise to meet his and they are fully wanton, her own need of him blazing there and the smell of her arousal permeating the room. He takes possession of her mouth, his tongue invading as if it has that right and as she offers him no resistance, they both know that he does because she has given it to him. His hands move over her body as they kiss and dance, caressing, stroking, touching her skin and the soft silk with fingers roughened from hours of working on the bits that keep the TARDIS running.
He dances her through the corridors to his bedroom and his hands finally run down her back to that knot and he initiates the little tug he has been aching to give since he first felt it beneath his fingers. The fabric unwraps from around her body, presenting her as if she is the most exquisite gift he has ever seen. And truly she is for he has never seen anything so precious and beautiful in all his years of time and space travel.
Then her hands are at his tie, rapidly undoing a knot that she seems to have been wanting to untie almost as badly as the one he just had. It’s off and across the room and her fingers are working quickly to make short work of the buttons on his shirt. She shoves it off his shoulders, her hands running firmly down the smooth muscles of his arms, biceps, triceps, then back up and onto his chest, running across his pectorals, then feather light down across his ribcage, his stomach, his abdomen, that sucks in sharply at the touch of her delicate fingers. She shivers and sighs and then she’s pulling the belt from his trousers in the next second and before he knows it he’s as naked as she is.
He had thought there would be shyness between them if this ever happened, but she is staring as boldly at his body as he is at hers. There is no doubt in either mind that they both want this. Her eyes widen in wonder as she takes him in, the burning need shining clearly as she reaches for him. All worries, fears, anxieties have fallen far behind them and they fall together on the bed in an age old dance. He is amazed to discover that her body is ready for him and she nods quickly in agreement to his unspoken question. She does not mind just getting to it, the flirting and dancing having been enough foreplay, and the wanting, the needing, the must have right now, is forefront in both their minds.
He slides smoothly into her body and meets with no resistance. Rose gasps as he fills her and he waits as she becomes accustomed to his presence, muscles stretching to accommodate his length and width. Finally she sighs and locks her legs around his waist, nodding at him to begin. There will be hours later to learn her body’s secrets for he will not go back now that he has crossed this line.
The pulse and rhythm of this new dance takes over, driving them onward and upward in a frenzy of movements. She tugs at his body to pull him closer as he thrusts forcefully, repeatedly burying his length into her glorious tightness, in her body that rises desperately to meet him as wave after wave of blissful pleasure builds. Someone moans loudly and he realizes it is him.
His eyes never leave hers and he wonders how he could not have seen how much love she holds for him before this because it is all there, written just as clearly on her face as he knows it must be on his own. The exhilarating frenzy builds and her eyes began to cloud though they never tear away from the lock of his gaze.
She is suddenly screaming his name and her eyes are liquid but they still do not close as her body clenches around him and then his own climax comes, triggered by hers, and with everything in him he thinks, feels, loves, shouts, “Rose!”
He collapses on top of her, unable to move for a brief while and then he is rolling off of her and pulling her into his arms, both stunned to silence by the enormity of their actions. The shock begins to dissipate as their breathing finds a less frenetic rhythm. He kisses her lovingly to dispel any awkwardness that might arise and she snuggles into him happily and after a while she laughs quietly. “I’m not quite sure that’s what the lady meant when she said to wear that outfit if I wanted someone to take me dancing.”
And then the Doctor remembers what it is about Teripsian silk that makes it so special. He doesn’t tell Rose that that was exactly what the woman had meant. Teripsian silk peddlers are all about the innuendo. He’ll tell her later that it’s the most potent aphrodisiac in the known universe, but that it only works on desire that is already there and reciprocated. For now, he’ll hold her tightly in his arms and know that he’ll never be able to say no to her again when she asks him to take her dancing or to take her dancing. A slow grin spreads over his face at the very idea. It doesn’t even amaze him when he finds he doesn’t mind that prospect the least little bit.
“What?” she asks coyly or at least he expects it’s coyly because there is no way she cannot know what that particular article of clothing is designed to do to a man.
“That, erm...thing you’re wearing.”
She looks down then back up at him and blinks innocently. “The ankle bracelet?” she asks, sitting down on the jump seat and crossing her legs slowly so she can swing one ankle higher for his perusal. “Got that at Rigel.”
He hadn’t even noticed the delicate silver anklet that lay loosely across her left ankle. It seems to have a charm similar to the human caduceus hanging from it. On Rigel this particular design translates directly to the word doctor and was not a symbol for the medical profession itself as on Earth. She can’t know that, can she? If she does she’s certainly bringing their flirting to a whole new level. “No, not the anklet,” he says not able to look away from it until she shifts her leg and then flexes her foot, letting it rest lightly against his thigh.
“The shoes then?” And he looks down at the translucent slipper that adorns her foot, arching it perfectly to show off its own natural rise and the lovely painted toenails. He shakes his head no but she doesn't seem to see.
“They’re surprisingly comfortable. Found them in a little shop on Deneb 8.”
“Not” and his voice shook as she slid the shoe up his thigh a little higher, coming dangerously close to a part of him she’s never purposely touched in the past, before sliding it back down and away from him. “Not the shoes, either.”
“Then you must mean,” and she hops down from the jump seat while he tries not to notice what a lovely little bounce it gives to just the right places, “My dress.” She runs her hands down the smooth, brilliant red fabric, which means she runs it over her breasts, hips and upper thighs because it really doesn’t cover much more of her than that. No mistake now that she's raised the flirting bar.
“Yeah,” he mumbles.
“Isn’t it magnificent? Teripsian silk. You remember? That little market just outside the rain forest?” She takes a step closer and he tries to remember the last time he took her to the marketplace there, but for some reason his mind refuses to think about anything except the woman standing directly in front of him. “It feels amazing against my skin.”
“I was under the impression that that was just…cloth.” And his voice is squeaking again by the time he finishes the sentence.
Rose shrugs and he wonders if she might fall out of the bottom of the top portion of that dress if she makes that motion too often and then he wonders how often he can make her shrug before sharply putting an end to that train of thought. Or if not an end, a derailment.
She turns in a slow circle and he can see that the outfit wraps about the back of her neck, then comes down in two wide strips that diagonally encompass her breasts before sliding around to the back to crisscross there, returning to the front in another crisscross, round the back, to the front again, then one last twist behind and up through the bottom of the skirt to a knot in the middle of her back.
“It came with instructions about how to wrap it all around my body and then how to tie it off. It clings to the skin, so I’m not actually in any danger of it falling off.” He pouts mentally then quietly berates himself for pouting. “The lady at the shop said,” and Rose moves a step closer to him, “That it would be perfect to wear if I wanted to have someone take me dancing.”
He’s gulping again, his eyes drawn to the exposed diamond-shaped expanse of her midriff and to the lovely navel in the center of it. “So what do you say, Doctor?” Her voice is heavy with seduction as she lowers her eyes.
“About what?”
She puts her hand on his arm and closes the remaining distance between them. “Do you want to?” she whispers in his ear.
He can’t even remember what she’s asking him now and he really doesn’t care. Whatever it is he’s sure it must be a very good idea. “Yes. Sure. Whatever you want, Rose.”
She squeals and throws her arms around him and she was right about how wonderful that silk feels, with the added bonus of how what it contains feels, pressing up against him. He can almost feel the fabric through the thin cotton of his shirt. His suit jacket having been abandoned earlier in the day is not there to afford him its meager protection against the tantalizing fabric or the tantalizing girl that he’s holding. He wonders what would happen if he takes the knot that is suddenly under his hands and gives it just a little tug, but before the thought can even fully form she’s pulling back from him.
She takes his hand and pulls him towards the doors of the TARDIS. “Come on. There’s a nightclub just three blocks from here.” Her eyes sparkle.
Nightclub? His mind runs the conversation back in his head without the distraction of actually looking at her. Oh, Rassilon, he’s just agreed to take her dancing. And he can tell by her excited chatter and her grip on his hand that there will be no squirming out of it this time. And really, maybe this new body will be just fine at dancing. He really doesn’t want to disappoint her.
The bouncer doesn’t even let them get in line, instead waving them immediately into the club. He’s pretty sure that’s all Rose and her outfit, even if he is rather pretty himself this time around. He tries to sit with her at a table, but she’s not looking to do anything but move. “Dance with me, Doctor,” she says and the tone she uses makes his hearts race faster.
And he knows that if he doesn’t there will be no shortage of volunteers to take his place, for the eye of every unattached male in the place is on her and from the venomous looks some of the women are throwing at Rose some of the attached men are looking at her a little too long as well.
He lets her pull him out under the flashing lights and her body begins to move to the throbbing rhythm and all he can think to do is put his hands on her waist in the bare patch of skin. She leans back against his hands so he’s holding her up as she shimmies backwards. He’s just standing there watching her undulate and wishing that he could undulate with her in a way that is totally inappropriate for a dance floor and likely totally inappropriate in any public situation.
When the music changes she stops leaning backwards and the next thing he knows she’s got her back to him, one arm hooking up behind her to hold him behind his neck. His hands are around her waist again, splayed across her abdomen and her free hand rests on top of them. Her hips swing back and forth and his move with hers as if magnetically held together and he knows that things are going to get completely out of control if this keeps up too much longer, yet he cannot get himself to pull away, his body overruling the weak commands his mind keeps sending it until eventually his brain stops trying. He didn’t even know it was possible to dance this way and he wonders if the girl in his arms has any idea how much he just wants to throw her against a wall and have his way with her.
The song ends and she’s twisting around again to face him. Her arms slide across his chest and up around his neck, his are still around her waist, she pushes up against him and they are slowly swaying to the soft, slow romantic pulse of the new song. He buries his face in her shoulder and the smell of her just about does him in.
A wave of honeysuckle and vanilla and something else he can’t quite identify invades his senses, while his cheek rests against the delicious fabric that is covering her creamy white shoulder. He is completely aware of her hand tracing a pattern on the back of his neck, the sensation like a slow burn working its way downwards, and his own hands stray to that knot in the back of her dress.
He’s wanted her before this moment. Many times and in many places and not just in this incarnation, but this goes beyond that. In the past he’s pushed it aside because he has always known that’s a line he should not cross with her. She’s too young, too innocent in the ways of the universe, and too important to him to ruin their relationship because his treacherous new body seems to have developed a bad case of new new hormones. He thinks about it far too often these days and his will has been bending the more time he spends alone in her presence.
Someone stumbles into Rose from behind and she’s thrust forward against him, her hips driving into his and his last bit of resolve completely breaks. He’s pulling her out of the club like a mad man and dragging her back to the TARDIS, ignoring her startled exclamations.
Once inside the TARDIS he stops only long enough to flip a switch and music echoes through the console room and corridors of the ship. Then he’s swaying with her again, no space between their bodies and no way for her to not know what is happening as he pushes against her. His desire is painfully obvious, trapped between their two bodies, making his intentions clearer than they have ever been. All hesitation is gone, for he knows exactly what he intends to do now.
Her eyes rise to meet his and they are fully wanton, her own need of him blazing there and the smell of her arousal permeating the room. He takes possession of her mouth, his tongue invading as if it has that right and as she offers him no resistance, they both know that he does because she has given it to him. His hands move over her body as they kiss and dance, caressing, stroking, touching her skin and the soft silk with fingers roughened from hours of working on the bits that keep the TARDIS running.
He dances her through the corridors to his bedroom and his hands finally run down her back to that knot and he initiates the little tug he has been aching to give since he first felt it beneath his fingers. The fabric unwraps from around her body, presenting her as if she is the most exquisite gift he has ever seen. And truly she is for he has never seen anything so precious and beautiful in all his years of time and space travel.
Then her hands are at his tie, rapidly undoing a knot that she seems to have been wanting to untie almost as badly as the one he just had. It’s off and across the room and her fingers are working quickly to make short work of the buttons on his shirt. She shoves it off his shoulders, her hands running firmly down the smooth muscles of his arms, biceps, triceps, then back up and onto his chest, running across his pectorals, then feather light down across his ribcage, his stomach, his abdomen, that sucks in sharply at the touch of her delicate fingers. She shivers and sighs and then she’s pulling the belt from his trousers in the next second and before he knows it he’s as naked as she is.
He had thought there would be shyness between them if this ever happened, but she is staring as boldly at his body as he is at hers. There is no doubt in either mind that they both want this. Her eyes widen in wonder as she takes him in, the burning need shining clearly as she reaches for him. All worries, fears, anxieties have fallen far behind them and they fall together on the bed in an age old dance. He is amazed to discover that her body is ready for him and she nods quickly in agreement to his unspoken question. She does not mind just getting to it, the flirting and dancing having been enough foreplay, and the wanting, the needing, the must have right now, is forefront in both their minds.
He slides smoothly into her body and meets with no resistance. Rose gasps as he fills her and he waits as she becomes accustomed to his presence, muscles stretching to accommodate his length and width. Finally she sighs and locks her legs around his waist, nodding at him to begin. There will be hours later to learn her body’s secrets for he will not go back now that he has crossed this line.
The pulse and rhythm of this new dance takes over, driving them onward and upward in a frenzy of movements. She tugs at his body to pull him closer as he thrusts forcefully, repeatedly burying his length into her glorious tightness, in her body that rises desperately to meet him as wave after wave of blissful pleasure builds. Someone moans loudly and he realizes it is him.
His eyes never leave hers and he wonders how he could not have seen how much love she holds for him before this because it is all there, written just as clearly on her face as he knows it must be on his own. The exhilarating frenzy builds and her eyes began to cloud though they never tear away from the lock of his gaze.
She is suddenly screaming his name and her eyes are liquid but they still do not close as her body clenches around him and then his own climax comes, triggered by hers, and with everything in him he thinks, feels, loves, shouts, “Rose!”
He collapses on top of her, unable to move for a brief while and then he is rolling off of her and pulling her into his arms, both stunned to silence by the enormity of their actions. The shock begins to dissipate as their breathing finds a less frenetic rhythm. He kisses her lovingly to dispel any awkwardness that might arise and she snuggles into him happily and after a while she laughs quietly. “I’m not quite sure that’s what the lady meant when she said to wear that outfit if I wanted someone to take me dancing.”
And then the Doctor remembers what it is about Teripsian silk that makes it so special. He doesn’t tell Rose that that was exactly what the woman had meant. Teripsian silk peddlers are all about the innuendo. He’ll tell her later that it’s the most potent aphrodisiac in the known universe, but that it only works on desire that is already there and reciprocated. For now, he’ll hold her tightly in his arms and know that he’ll never be able to say no to her again when she asks him to take her dancing or to take her dancing. A slow grin spreads over his face at the very idea. It doesn’t even amaze him when he finds he doesn’t mind that prospect the least little bit.
