Have (1/3)

[amberfocus]

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A/N:  You wanted smut?  I give you smut!

Have

 

Jack has been safely tucked into a spare room for the night and Rose is waiting in the console room when the Doctor returns. She is hoping for a little more dancing and lot more romancing when he comes back to her, but she can tell instantly that the light-hearted atmosphere has disappeared and she wonders why as he stares her down.

 

 

“The Captain seems to be under the impression that you’re single,” the Doctor says with dark eyes. “And looking.”

 

“Only person I’m looking at is you,” she says softly. She reaches for his hand, but he backs away from her and she can’t keep the hurt from crossing her face as it socks its way through her gut. He gives her a sour look. “Don’t do this,” she says. “Don’t you dare, Doctor. Don’t you dare think that you can do this to me.”

 

“I’m not doing anything.” It’s the way he says the words that get to her. He’s informing her that their dance is over, that he’s not going to carry through on what they started before the Cloister bells began to ring and warn them of the start of their last adventure.

 

“Why’d you even bother dancing with me, then?” Rose asks indignantly. “You back to marking your territory again? Is this your big neon hands off sticker that you’re plastering me with?” He doesn’t answer her, doesn’t meet her eyes. “Bright green and pink and it says, ‘You can’t have her but I bloody well don’t want her either!’”

 

“Hard to want someone who can’t make up her mind who she wants,” the Doctor mutters. 

 

“You think I want Jack?” Rose just looks at him in stunned confusion. “You…after all we…and I…oooh!” The last she says in frustration and she balls her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms to try to calm herself down before she says something stupid.

 

“You were flirting with him,” the Doctor says sulkily.

 

“To get information out of him!” Rose defends.

 

“Not what it looked like!” he snaps.

 

“I was impressed with his tech,” she tells him.

 

“Oh, is that what you’re calling it?” he asks.

 

“You’re jealous of that pretty boy?” She is astonished. “You?”

 

“You seem to like collecting pretty boys,” the Doctor accuses. “You’ve got Mickey on a string back home--.”

 

“This is home,” she says. “And I do not. He knows how it is.”  The Doctor ignores her.

 

“Then there was Adam,” he continues.

 

“That was a mistake. A mistake I paid for. I thought we’d gotten past that!” She is furious with him for bringing that up.

 

“And now Jack. The prettiest of the lot. Damn near perfect,” growls the Doctor.

 

“You sure you’re not the one with a crush on the Captain?” she asks.

 

“Don’t be stupid,” he says without thinking.

 

Rose takes a step back from him and a stricken look crosses her face. She blinks hard and doesn’t say anything for a long minute and the Doctor wishes desperately he could take his words back. “Right,” she says nodding her head once. “Right. I won’t be. I’m done being stupid.” She turns on her heel and starts to walk away.

 

“Rose. You and I need to get some things straight--.”

 

“You and I, Doctor?” she repeats in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “That’s a laugh, isn’t it? You just needed an excuse to back out, didn’t you? You were never gonna—oh, why do I bother? You can find somewhere else to go tonight when you feel the need to cuddle up to a warm body. I’m sure Jack won’t mind if you choose his bed, because you damn well better believe you’re not welcome in mine if you think for one minute that I’d want him when I can have you!”

 

“Rose,” he begins.

 

“Only I can’t have you, can I? That’s what this is really all about. You’ve changed your mind, decided you don’t want me. Well, fine, just admit it, but don’t you dare try to shove me off on Captain Jack because I don’t want him. I want you. It’s always been you. And no sexy, pretty boy is going to change how I feel. But you keep acting like this and--” She stops suddenly as if all the fight has gone out of her and turns away from him, biting her lip before she says something she can’t take back. He thinks he sees the start of tears in her eyes.

 

She starts out of the room again and he loses his fear as swiftly as he’s been beset by it. He strides quickly after her, grabs hold of her arm and swings her back around until she is facing him. He takes hold of her face with both of his hands and leans down and kisses her, hard.

 

He feels all of her confusion and frustration dissolving in the back of her mind as his cool tongue invades her mouth and fights past hers to take possession of her. He backs her up against the wall, his body holding hers captive. She softens, molds her body to his, finds the hem of his jumper and slides her fingers up underneath it, finding his skin and touching all that she can reach.

 

The Doctor breaks the kiss and she looks up at him with wary eyes, not sure if he’s stopping them before they can even get started or just pausing momentarily. “Come with me?” he asks softly. He takes a step back from her and holds out his hand and is immensely relieved when she wraps her fingers around his.

 

Rose follows him to a part of the ship he’s never brought her to before, looks up at him as he pauses outside a simple black door. He reaches out and jiggles the knob and pushes it open. “My room,” he says simply and then pulls her inside. The room is nearly as black as the door, the walls are in shadow and the bed is draped in a thick, black velvet spread. The head and footboards are made of black cast iron and even the sheets and pillowcases are swathed in burgundy cotton so dark she at first mistakes it for black.

 

She approaches the bed hesitantly, her eyes scanning the darkness, trying to find signs of the man whose room this is, but very little comes to light. It is sparsely decorated, almost Spartan in appearance. There is a bureau of dark brown, highly polished wood, its surface taken up with a spare sonic screwdriver, a battery pack for it, and a broken necklace of hers that he’d promised to fix last week when he had time.

 

The nightstand, made of the same dark polished wood, holds a cast iron lamp, black of course, with a single naked, twisted bulb of some futuristic design. It is on and glowing with a gentle, diffused yellow light. There are no paintings on the wall, though there is a long flat screen that shows the inside of the Time Vortex as they journey through it. It and the light are the only real colors in the room.

 

The Doctor removes his jacket and places it on a hook on the side of the bureau then looks at her. She sits down on the bed and watches him, waits to see what he’s going to do next. His fingers reach down and grasp the bottom of his jumper and he pulls it up over his head and drops it on the floor. It startles Rose as all that skin comes into view. She is not used to seeing him take off his clothes, only hearing it in the darkness and it is almost a heady experience.

 

Her eyes wander over his flesh, noting the patch of chest hair between his pectoral muscles and the thin, nearly invisible line that trails down to his navel and from his navel disappears into his jeans. Her eyes skip back up, note that his nipples are erect in the coolness of the room or perhaps from her gaze on him. She knows she has lust in her eyes. She must do as badly as she wants him.

 

He rests his hands on his belt and looks at her. Perhaps he is seeking confirmation that she wants him, that they’re really going to do this, to take this step and change everything between them forever. She nods at him, licks her lips unconsciously as her eyes drop a few inches to his groin, then back up at the motion when he unbuckles the belt and pulls it from the jeans in a slow, steady drag.

 

The Doctor pauses again and then moves towards her, reaching down for her hands and pulling her up to stand beside him. His fingers find the hem of her shirt and she raises her arms above her head as he pulls the garment off her body. His hand reaches out and with callused fingertips he strokes the rounded skin peeking out over the top of her little, pale yellow bra. She hisses at the contact and closes her eyes. He brings his hand across to stroke the second breast, his fingers trailing so lightly she has to open her eyes to make sure she is not imagining the touch. She is not.

 

His fingers fumble with the two little clasps holding the front of her bra shut and then she is free as the restraint falls open. His fingers glide to her shoulders, pushing the little straps down, down, down the length of her arms until it falls in a heap at her feet. She kicks it away, realizes she is still wearing shoes and toes them off, sending them after the discarded bra.

 

He turns them around and sits down on the bed, pulling her to stand between his knees in front of him. His hands rest on her waist then creep upwards to the rounded flesh above, holding each breast in his hands from underneath, as if he were weighing them and then his fingers spread across them as if to take their measure. She nearly laughs at the whimsy, but gasps instead as he brushes his thumbs lightly across her nipples, as gently as a whisper.

 

They reward him by leaping up under his touch, something that seems to delight him for his eyes sparkle and the smile he turns on her weakens her knees. She puts a hand on his shoulder to steady herself as he begins to fondle her chest in earnest now, leaving no bit of skin unexplored. She thinks she is going to lose her footing when he takes her right nipple into his mouth and swirls his tongue about the little bud. A moan that starts in the back of her throat escapes her with startling velocity when he gently scrapes his teeth across the tip.

 

He trails his tongue down to the soft underside of her breast, sucking and nipping and licking his way along the tender skin. One hand goes to the back of his head in silent encouragement while the other continues to keep her knees from wobbling too much with her steady grip on him. He kisses every inch of her skin, nibbling and bathing it as he heads back towards her nipple. He blows lightly across it and her hips jerk forward.

 

He laughs and it is so sexy she nearly throws him backwards onto the bed. But he has other ideas and she finds his hands have wandered down to the waist of her trousers and he slides them across her bum and the backs of her thighs before coming back up again and around to the front. His fingers fumble with the fastener, a clip instead of a button, but he sorts it soon enough and then he’s pulling down the zipper. He opens the front and leans forward, pressing a kiss to the bare expanse of flesh just above her lacy yellow knickers.

 

His fingers trip their way down across the front of her knickers, brushing gently across the soft mound of her womanhood and she cries out at the simple touch. Then he is removing his hand and pulling the trousers down from her hips to her knees and then pushing her back slightly so she can step out of them. All that separates her from his lingering gaze is the barely there scrap of almost see-through yellow nylon and lace. He hooks his index fingers into the sides and with aching slowness inches them down her body.

 

When they are to her ankles he pulls off her socks as she steps out of them and then he pushes her back a bit from him and lets his eyes burn down the length of her body, drinking in the exquisite beauty he has so longed to see. She stands there watching his face as he looks at her body, seeing how his steel eyes darken to a deeper blue, how his nostrils flare as he takes in the scent of her arousal, watches as he moistens his lips and then meets his eyes as they reconnect with hers.

 

She kneels on the floor before him and reaches for his boots, unlacing them with shaking fingers and pulling them free one by one, chucking them behind her in her haste. She kisses his ankle as she removes his sock and he jerks against her. She smiles and repeats it on his other ankle, this time adding a long lick that elicits a gasp. She slides her hands firmly up the tight denim of his jeans, over his strong calves and then around to the front of his thighs. His muscles ripple as she runs her palms across him and up to the buttons at his pelvis.

 

One by one she unfastens them and then she is urging him to stand and to shuck off the remainder of his clothing. He strips himself naked and then looks at her almost shyly as if afraid at this late moment of what she might think of his naked body. But he should not be afraid at all for she is as pleased with what she sees as he is when looking at her.

 

Her eyes are curious as they settle on his penis and this time she sits on the bed and has him stand in front of her as she looks him over. His shaft waves a bit erratically before her. It seems to be moving about under its own power as if seeking out a place to burrow itself in. He is about eight inches long, bigger than she’s had before but not freakishly or scarily large and there seems to be no foreskin, but no type of circumcision scar to indicate there ever was one, either. He’s a little thicker than what she’s seen before, but again not anything that causes trepidation or doubt.

 

The head is swollen, though the shape is slightly different than a human male’s, a bit more bulbous. She reaches out and grasps hold of him and his shaft leaps into her touch, pushing its way into her hand and starting a slow ripple inside her fingers. She squeezes him softly and is rewarded by another pulsing ripple. Her eyes widen as she stares up at him and he says a little fearfully, “Bit different than humans.”

 

She reaches down with her other hand to stroke the sack encasing his testicles. They are tight and hard, tucked up tight against his body, and he starts quivering at her touch. She opens the hand wrapped around his shaft, leans forward and takes him into her mouth. He freezes, a look of shock on his face as her tongue slides up and down his shaft, and then the thing starts to ripple again and he pulls her off.

 

“Rose, Rose, no,” he says. “It’ll choke you if you go that deep. It’ll move on its own and swell into your windpipe.”

 

She nods at him, fastens her mouth back on him and only takes him in half as deep this time. Her hands hold tight to the firm muscles of his bum as she swirls her tongue about him, searching out the little patch of skin on the underside of the head and then chasing it all the way around several times until he’s almost dizzy with the sensation. Her tongue leaves it at last, rising up to the tip, searching out his pre-ejaculate, but not finding any. She wonders if he has any, but shrugs it off and begins a slow build up of vacuum suction until his hands are fisting in her hair, but not trying to control her motion in any way.

 

“Rose, stop,” he groans eventually. “I want to make love to you, not go off in your mouth.” She pulls off him and scoots herself back onto the bed. He stretches himself out between her thighs so that he is within inches from her womanhood and gently reaches out, separates the folds of her sex, and with careful fingers begins to explore.

Ch. 2:  http://amberfocus.livejournal.com/48343.html

 

Comments

[nattieb.livejournal.com]

*cheers*
Ever since you said you'd be continuing this series I have waited for post Jack to pop up and it did not disappoint. Wow! Evil place to leave it, but wow!


Out of curiosity, how is 'Boomtown' going to work now?

[amberfocus.livejournal.com]

It was at 2900 words or so, and LJ won't let me do more than that in one post. It's all LJ's fault.