A Sky Without Zeppelins (33/?)

[amberfocus]

                                                       original banner art by theotherwillow

                                                                   Chapter Thirty-Three

Rose arrives at Jonathon’s Friday after work with a packed suitcase, including two dressy outfits and a couple of casual ones and with no idea where he’s taking her. Even though her birthday isn’t until Monday he’s planned a weekend holiday for the two of them to celebrate. Rose is nervous because even though they’ve slept together, and are practically living together half the week now, they’ve never been away together and she’s not sure how that will change the dynamic between them. Especially since he is insisting on paying for the entire weekend as his birthday gift to her.

She tries hard to let go of her feelings in that respect and just let him give her this because he wants to. He wants to please her, take care of her, pamper her with this weekend. No matter how expensive it is, she needs to just let him do it. He’s giving her space on all the little things, like taking the bus home and letting her buy the chips. She has her pride but she’s coming to understand that he has his, too, and being able to do nice things for her that she wouldn’t be able to do for herself is part of that.

It isn’t that he thinks she needs him to take care of her, he simply wants to. She’s beginning to see the subtle difference in that. He smiles at her and she smiles back trying not to show how nervous this is all making her feel. Whatever they’re doing next, she thinks it’s going to involve some kind of huge step forward. On her part or on his, she’s not sure. Maybe both.

Jonathon bundles her into a Town Car that he’s hired or acquired and the driver takes them towards the coast. Though she asks him several times where they are going, he remains more or less mum, and when he does say something it is to repeat one of two things; that it is either a surprise or that she’ll find out soon enough. Eventually he tires of her questions and shuts her up by kissing her firmly enough to make her lose track of not only time but also reason. When they arrive in Folkestone, Kent a little over an hour and a half later and pull up to a train station she stares at him in shock.

“France?” she gasps. “You’re taking me to France for my birthday?”

He grins at her and nods at her. “That all right?”

She’s so excited she doesn’t care that this is far too expensive and far more than she was expecting. It’s France, she wants to go, and especially she wants to go there with him. She flings her arms around him and hugs him tightly. “Thank you. This is the most amazing thing someone’s ever done for me.”

He grins like a loon at her joy and insists on carrying her luggage into the station. They have a half an hour before their high speed Eurostar passenger train is boarding. “Have you ever been in the Chunnel before?” Rose asks him curiously.

“No,” he says. "I’ve usually sailed across the channel. I’ve been four times, three by boat and once by air. This is a totally new experience for me. What about you?” he asks her.

Rose shakes her head no. “We were supposed to go on a school trip there when I was younger, but we took a ferry and it broke down. I can’t believe you’re taking me to France. Thank you.” She smiles at him and leans across her suitcase to kiss him softly. Their lips brush briefly and she’s starting to pull away again when he catches her about the waist and kisses her a bit more thoroughly then she was prepared for in a train station.

When he releases her she’s a bit weak in the knees and smiles rather foolishly up at him. She has to grasp his coat to steady herself. Her fingers cling to the supple, light brown, lambskin jacket. “You haven’t asked me where in France,” he says.

“You going to answer me now?” she asks him.

“Yep." He pops the P, a habit she finds both endearing and annoying if he does it too often. “Paris.” This time when he pops the P she doesn’t mind one bit.

“You’re taking me to Paris. Paris. Paris, France.”

“Bit closer than Paris, Texas,” he remarks. Rose rolls her eyes at him. “City for lovers, isn’t it?” he asks rolling the R’s and making her think of what better use she wants to put that tongue to. He smiles slowly and sensually and she’s pretty sure he knows exactly what she is thinking.

She backs up a step and her back comes to rest against a support pillar. Jonathon steps into her and smiles and she remembers a few nights before when he held her against the wall and made love to her. “People are watching us,” she hisses.

“Of course they are. You’re the most beautiful woman in here. Every woman wants to be you and every man wants to have you and they all know that I get to,” he says. He pushes into her and she can feel the bulge of his penis through the fabric of his trousers. Rose feels her knickers getting damp.

She is saved by the boarding call and Jonathon insists yet again on carrying both bags, but she rather thinks this time it’s because he wants to hold her smaller, lighter case in front of his now too obvious erection, and not because he wants to be the manly boyfriend. She grins, lets him walk ahead of her, and stares probably a bit too blatantly at his arse in the well-cut trousers he’s wearing.

They stow their luggage and collapse into their seats. Jonathon’s coat is now in his lap and Rose can’t help but smirk a little. “How long is the train ride?” she asks him.

“About 2 and a half hours,” he says.

“You gonna keep your coat in your lap the entire time?” she asks with a knowing look.

“Might do,” he replies.

She slips her hand under it and rests it against his thigh, smiles when she hears his breath hitch. She leans her head against his shoulder and he puts his arm around her. “I love you,” she says softly. He turns his head towards her and kisses her hair.

“I love you,” he murmurs back. They cuddle and caress as unobtrusively as possible and are left more or less alone by the other passengers, though they do receive one or two looks from women who are closer in age to Jonathon than she is that are somewhat disapproving. Since they aren’t doing anything indecent Rose puts it down to envy.

It’s the fastest train she’s ever been on and she tries to focus on anything other than the fact that she’s under massive amounts of water. She knows this form of travel, this tunnel is perfectly safe, but that doesn’t stop the small, animal, instinctive part of her brain from wanting to drum a tiny little bit of panicked adrenaline into her bloodstream.

He’s stroking the inside of her wrist with his fingers when he pauses and takes her pulse with a frown. “Nervous?” he asks. “Your pulse is racing.”

Rose swallows. “Just…a bit, yeah. I guess I need to get used to the idea of being underwater, what with the job we’re going to be doing a year from now. It’s just…the submarine ship thing is a self-contained system. I’ve always…had a fear of the tunnel collapsing and filling with water and…well, it was never a big deal because I’ve never been on it. Wasn’t planning on ever going on it.”

“Rose, you should have said. We didn’t have to get on the train if you were scared. We could have taken a ferry,” he says. “Or chartered a boat.”

“No,” she replies. “I’m nervous, yeah, but I need to face my fears head on to prove they’ve no validity.” She squeezes his hand. “Besides, with you by my side, I think I can face anything.”

He smiles and squeezes back. “Just let me know if there’s anything I can do to make it easier.”

“Talk to me,” she says instantly. “Tell me what you remember about your childhood.”

“I don’t remember much,” he says softly. “I know what I’ve been told. And I have a few very intense memories, but so much was lost in the…in the accident.”

“What were your parents’ names?” she asks. Sticking to facts might be the way to go.

“My father’s name was Jonathon, too, like mine,” he says. “He went by Johnny.”

“So you’re a junior?”

“No. Different middle names. His was Adam. My mother’s name was Lorna Anne.”

“What did they look like?” she wants to know.

“I look like my father. Same hair color, same eye color, same general features. I have his height. Though I have my mother’s build, her cheekbones and her smile.” He reaches into the pocket of his trousers. “Here. I take this with me when I go on trips. A bit of a good luck charm, I suppose. It’s one of the few things I have left of them. There’s a photograph inside.”

He puts something cold and metal in her palm and Rose looks down at what she is holding. It is a heart-shaped silver locket, with a strong, thick chain. She glances over at him briefly and sees great vulnerability in his eyes. Sharing this with her means a lot to him. She opens the clasp and looks inside. There is a picture of a young man who looks very much like him, though his hair is closely-cropped, and a woman who is fine-boned and delicately-featured. She has pale, straight hair that falls well past her shoulders. The photo is black and white so she can’t tell what color it is. She glances at the other side of it, studies the photo intently.

“Your mum is beautiful,” she says softly.

“Yes. She…she was.”

“What color was her hair?” she asks him.

“Red. Well, not red, but a pale sort of strawberry blonde. More of a light ginger. I don’t know. It was pretty. When I was a kid I wanted her hair color. I always wanted to be ginger so I could be more like her. Her eyes were blue. Cerulean.” His words are bittersweet, his eyes far away.

“You didn’t like being so much like your Dad?” she asks gently.

“I loved looking like my father. I just wanted more of my mother in me. Though I have her personality, I think. She was the talker, the one whose smile could light a room. Dad was more reticent, more of a thinker, bit of a grump. Smart, too. Really smart. Not that Mum wasn’t smart. She was an astrophysicist.”

“And your dad?”

“An inventor. I learned a lot from watching him tinker with things.”

Rose turns her eyes to the photograph tucked into the other side of the locket, the smiling baby boy. She runs a finger over his face.

“The babe is me,” he says.

She smiles softly. “Your parents made a beautiful child.” She closes the locket and hands it back to him and he slips it back into his pocket. He’s looking at her intently and she asks him, “What?”

“We would,” he says quietly.

“We would what?” she asks slightly confused.

“Make a beautiful child. Make beautiful children. Together. If you want them.” His accent deepens and Rose’s heart stutters. This is the first time he’s ever talked of such a thing to her and she isn’t quite sure what to make of it.

“You…you want children?” She tries to keep it general. Doesn’t let the unspoken words ‘with me’ that are hanging in the air be asked.

“Some day. Not now. Not soon. But someday. After we’ve been married for a few years, yes, I’d like us to have children,” he replies. The words come out so casually and Rose’s heart feels like it’s going to burst out of her chest.

“Married?” She is proud of herself that her voice doesn’t actually squeak. It isn’t particularly steady, though.

He seems to realize then what he’s said, what he’s implying and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, bites his lip and then meets her gaze. “I love you, Rose,” he says. “I know neither one of us is ready for that step. Not for a couple of years. And the last thing I’d ever want to do is rush you, but you are…you are my future.”

She opens her mouth to speak but he forestalls her with an upright wave of his hand. “We still have a lot of getting to know each other to do, you have to finish school and establish your career, and we’ll have a year long assignment at least in Illuminate’s exploratory vessel. I’m not in any hurry, Rose, but one day…yeah; I see that as where we’re going.”

“You want to be married. To me.” It’s a statement and not a question.

“Yeah, I do.” She doesn’t say anything, the feeling of being overwhelmed washing through her. It’s a lot to take in and it isn’t that she doesn’t want this, but the seriousness of it, the fact that he wants to bind himself to her like this already is enormous. It’s not like he just asked her to marry him, but in a way, a general and non-specific way, he did.

As short a time as it has been she is passionately, irrevocably in love with this man. When she thinks about the future now, he is always in it. Maybe not as specifically as he is with marriage and children, but he is by her side. She wants him there, wants to spend a life with this man. Her silence is worrying him and he fidgets nervously beside her. She doesn’t think he meant for any of this to come out this soon. Finally he breaks the silence.

“Rose? Is that all right?” he asks.

She slides her hand back into his and nods. There is too much emotion in her to speak. She leans her head against his shoulder, gets herself together. It is five minutes before she can talk again. The conversation turns to her own childhood and she tells him more than she thinks she’s ever told anyone about her life. He listens with rapt absorption, finding every detail she cares to share fascinating. Her voice is hoarse when they finally pull into the station in Calais, France.

When Jonathon leads her over to a limousine she looks at him askance. “A limo? Jonathon, how much are you spending on me?”

He sighs. “The limo belongs to Illuminate. Mr. Lumin said we could use it while we were in France. And before you worry about it, the hotel we’re staying in is also Illuminate’s. I know how you feel about me spending too much money on you, but this is all part of my benefits package. I sprang for the train tickets and all of the meals and activities we’ll be doing, but that’s it. You okay with that?” She nods. “You’d be worth every quid if it all came from me, though.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to seem ungrateful.”

“You don’t.”

“Thank you,” she says softly. “For this weekend. For all of it.” She relaxes and lets it all go. This weekend is about them spending time together in a magical place. If he wants to spoil her, she’s not going to say anything else about it.

Jonathon gives their luggage to their driver and then ushers Rose into the back of the limousine. They settle against the luxurious leather seats. The privacy glass between them and their driver is completely dark as is the glass on their windows. No one can see in. As they pull away from the station Rose watches the buildings go by. His hand is held in hers, their fingers twined together.

As they pass out of the city and into the countryside she turns back to him. “How far is it to Paris from here?” she wants to know.

“185 miles,” he says. “Should take us a bit over three hours, traffic permitting.”

Rose smiles. She reaches for her purse, slides open the zipper and reaches inside, her fingers seeking for and finding what she’s looking for within seconds. “I’ve always had this fantasy,” she says holding up the little package, “about making love in the back of a limousine.”

Jonathon throws back his head and laughs, a deep rumbling laughter that consumes his entire body. She grins wickedly at him and runs her hands up his chest. He smiles at her then, his eyes twinkling. “Far be it from me, Rose Tyler, to not fulfill your fantasies.”

“You’re sure he can’t see us?” she asks nodding to the driver.

“I’m sure. I asked,” he says innocently. She raises her eyebrow. “I think your fantasy is rather universal,” he informs her dryly.

Jonathon roots around in a small cupboard next to the built-in refrigerator and pulls out a blanket. “We can put this over us if it makes you feel any better,” he tells her.

Rose shrugs. “No, if you’re sure he can’t see us, it’d be better to put it down on the seat to protect the leather. Do they have anything for clean-up?” Rose asks, her mind moving on the other practicalities of the situation.

“There’s a tissue box,” he says pulling it out.

Rose spreads the blanket across the seat and then looks at Jonathon. He gives her his slow, sensual smile and she grins, reaches out, snags him by the tie and pulls him closer to her. He is content to let her take the lead and she is delighted.

It’s not that she minds the aggressive, forceful lovemaking that they’ve been doing lately, far from it. Tonight, though, with all the revelations they’ve made to each other, she wants tenderness between them. Her lips brush lightly against his and then pepper the side of his jaw with tiny little kisses, before returning to his mouth and catching the right hand corner of his lower lip between her own.

Rose brushes her tongue just inside his lip then dips down further to explore beneath where teeth meet gums. He gives a little shake and she can’t help but smile at his reaction. She sweeps across his teeth while her fingers find the buttons of his dress shirt and begin to unfasten them. She slides her tongue further into his mouth, brushes up against the roof and makes him whimper, before slipping back down to work her tongue in little circles around his own.

When she breaks the kiss he makes a sound of protest, seeks to recapture her mouth but she is firm, loosening his tie and removing it and then layering kisses down his chest as each opened button reveals a new expanse of skin for her lips. One of his hands slides into her hair, the other creeping up under her top and finding the fastenings of her bra. He manages to get it open one-handed and then she’s removing his shirt.

He grasps the hem of her blouse and she lifts up her arms. Jonathon pulls it up over her head and then catches hold of her bra and slips it down her shoulders. Rose straddles his lap and runs her hands into his chestnut locks and his lips fasten on her breast and he gently teases the nipple with his tongue, swirling the little bud into a hard and aching pebble within seconds. His hands move down her body, one focusing on her breast, the other stroking the soft skin of her belly.

Rose grinds herself down against his lap, his erection hard and firm trapped between them and two layers of trousers. He makes a sudden sound of encouragement and she slides her hands down his arms, around his shoulder and onto his sides. Her fingers glide across his ribcage and she runs his chest hair through them before slipping down to his abdomen.

His breath hitches as she finds the button at his waistband and unfastens it, makes short work of the zip and pushes herself against him hard once more. He shudders and she laughs and pulls away from him, her hands working quickly at her own fastenings. She kicks out of her shoes and then slips off her trousers, shimmying down her knickers at the same time. As she pulls off her socks he is divesting himself of the remainder of his clothing and when she looks back up again he is as naked as she.

For a moment she catches her breath, her eyes roaming over his wiry torso. Her fingers follow the path of her eyes, running over taut muscles and pale skin before she reaches into his lap and lifts his penis free of his thighs. She strokes him softly, bringing him to fuller hardness and then leans down and takes him into her mouth. He gasps at the unexpected feeling of her warm mouth engulfing him and Rose smiles inwardly as she runs her lips up and down his shaft, her tongue working against the thick vein on the underside.

The angle is awkward and she shifts her body onto the floor so she has better access. Her tongue sweeps across his frenulum and he shudders as she pulls back, encasing only the head and then dipping her tongue into the sensitive opening. He bucks forward and she takes him more deeply into her mouth as he tries to hold himself still. Her hand creeps down to cradle his balls and then she ghosts her palms over his thighs.

“Rose, I’m not goin’ to last,” he says, his English losing proper diction and sliding heavily into his accent. “If ye wanna make love, ye need to stop.”

She pulls her head away, releasing him reluctantly with a soft pop. “You usually can go for longer,” she says.

“Not tonight.” His eyes are dark and glitter in the low light from passing vehicles.

She doesn’t ask him why that is. “Where’d the condom get to?” she asks instead. They scramble frantically for a moment before finding it in the folds of the blanket. Rose is relieved because it was the only one she had in her purse and during their search Jonathon informs her that all of his are in the boot with the luggage.

Jonathon takes it from her and opens it, quickly sliding it down over his full erection. Rose scrambles up onto him, her legs going to either side of his thighs, her knees resting on the seat as she lowers herself onto his shaft, gasping at the sensation as he fills her so fully. She dips her head down and kisses him before throwing it back and exposing her neck to him. She can feel the silken locks of her hair as it brushes against the small of her back. He latches on to her pulse point, sucking hard, bruising skin as he raises a hickey.

When he releases her she rocks into him, beginning a slow, swaying rhythm that builds slowly. She wants this to last, doesn’t want him to come too quickly, so she fights against the desire to simply ride him hard and fast. He murmurs her name over and over, his hands resting on her hips, his eyes closed. When she can stand it no longer she raises herself and begins a steady rise and fall, interrupting her rhythm occasionally with a figure eight motion when the urge to race to the finish becomes too strong.

He holds back, trying hard not to thrust up into her, allowing her to maintain control, to make love to him at her own speed, for as long as possible. “Rose,” he whimpers. “Need…need to come…please…Rose.” His fingers slip between their bodies and he strokes at her clit, his fingers becoming rapid and frantic and she twinges at the new sensation, the slow build suddenly interrupted by a roaring into life of a violent need to orgasm.

It roars through her, firing her blood and flushing her skin, and she is coming hard and fast around him. When she finishes he topples her down to the floor of the vehicle, his penis never leaving her body, and he drives into her quickly seeking his completion in eager, impatient strokes. He comes soon thereafter, his eyes tightly closed, his mouth open, his breath coming in sharp pants, his body shuddering as he shoots his seed inside her.

When he collapses on top of her she holds him tightly, stroking his back and his hair and pressing kisses into the shoulder by her lips. “You all right?” he asks when he catches his breath. He pulls out of her and scrambles away, sitting up. “I didn’t…I lost control. I’m sorry.”

Rose smiles at him, her eyes heavily lidded still against the slowly fading lust. “I’m fine. I don’t mind that…that loss of control.” She sits up and reaches over, stroking a sweaty lock of hair away from his face. He leans into her touch then kisses her palm. “I like that you need me. I like that you can’t always control how much.”

They clean themselves up in silence, Jonathon disposing of the condom and the tissues in a small bin in one of the cupboards and then they slowly pull their clothes back on and move onto the seat. Jonathon cuddles Rose against his side and she slowly drifts off into sleep in the comfort of his arms.

Ch. 34:  http://amberfocus.livejournal.com/203766.html 

Comments

[lostwolfchats.livejournal.com]

yummy!! Naughty and yummy!

[amberfocus.livejournal.com]

Thank you. It'll get naughtier once they get out on that balcony.