Body Heat (1/1)--Birthday Fic for Ladychi

[amberfocus]

Title:  Body Heat (1/1)
Author:  Amberfocus
Characters/Pairings:  Nine/Rose
Genre:  Hurt/comfort, Romance, Smut, PWP
Beta:  Azriona
Rating:  NC-17
Summary:  Rose has a virulent case of Falorian flu.  The Doctor cares for her.  Smut ensues.
A/N:  The line about riding the Doctor down Main Street like a pony is courtesy of a prompt from HonorH.  Not quite the way she intended me to use it, but still.  Not work safe or child friendly.  Happy Birthday, Ladychi.  I hope your day was wonderful.

 

Body Heat

 

 

It is incredibly rare for the Doctor’s travelling companions to get sick on the TARDIS. She’s very good at keeping their immune systems in tip-top shape considering some of the situations they land in. She fortifies their food and drink with every possible nutrient they could need and works to keep the air free of pathogens that could derail even the healthiest of humans. It doesn’t mean they can’t get infected in an alien environment, but usually the TARDIS is able to counteract all but the worst threats a human can be exposed to. So when she alerts the Doctor that Rose won’t wake up, he thinks nothing of it, other than that Rose is being her usual stubborn self about her early morning wake up call.

 

With a scowl of impatience he wends his way to her room,  ready to haul her out of bed if he needs to. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d tossed back the duvet and dragged her out of bed. She always shot him daggers with her eyes but all he really had to do was kiss her senseless and then propel her to the bathroom and sometimes start the shower running for her. On rare occasions if she needed more waking up than that, he’d join her. Once under the warmth of the water Rose came awake relatively quickly, and would soon after join him in the control room, her grumpy, sleepy self long forgotten. Or he’d join her in the bed, his impatience to be off also long forgotten.

 

He worries when he arrives at her door far quicker than usual. It’s rare for the TARDIS to rearrange herself like this, usually only happens in the event of an emergency, an injury that requires the medical bay to be drawn from the depths of the ship and brought near to the console room. Instead of the usual trek, he arrives at her bedroom within minutes.

 

Today when he pulls back the duvet Rose doesn’t even stir, doesn’t grab the blanket and pull it back or shoot him an annoyed look as she tries to cuddle back into sleep and warmth, doesn’t try to lure him in with her. He reaches out his hand to shake her awake and his fingers close on skin so hot it startles him. “Rose?” he says. Still, she doesn’t acknowledge his presence, not even to politely request he remove himself to the nether regions of hell so that she might sleep a little bit longer. He moves his hand to her forehead and frowns. She is burning up. “Rose? Rose!” He shakes her arm when she doesn’t respond then says her name a bit more forcefully.

 

Finally Rose manages to open one eye, then the other. “Doctor,” she croaks, “I don’t feel so good.” Her eyes are fever bright and her face is flushed. She blinks at him a moment and then tears come to her eyes. “Hurts,” she whimpers.

 

The Doctor scoops her up in his arms and instead of demanding to know what he’s doing she tightens her hands across the back of his neck and lays trustingly against him as he carries her to the infirmary. He lays her down on the exam bed and she shivers. He sends a mental request to his ship to raise the heat levels and takes a couple of blankets from the warming cupboard, wrapping them about her fevered body.

 

“Why didn’t you let me know she was so ill?” he demands of his ship and the TARDIS recoils in his mind, almost whimpering. He gets the clear indication from her that it came on too quickly, that it had erupted fully blown within the last hour and of course if she had known she would have told him. The minute she suspected something was wrong she’d alerted him.  “I’m sorry,” he says realizing how unfair he’s being. “I just…it’s Rose.” The TARDIS hums soothingly and he knows she holds no grudge for his sudden anger. He turns back to his charge.

 

He takes her temperature, pressing a tiny little device to the underside of her tongue. It registers instantly that her fever is dangerously high, despite her chills. “Where do you hurt, Rose?” he asks her.

 

“Throat,” she says. “Bones ache, too.” The act of speaking those four simple words seems to leave her exhausted and her eyes flutter shut.

 

He takes a scraping from inside her throat and she gags but doesn’t protest. It is only a moment for him to identify the bug under the microscope as a raging case of Falorian flu and the formulation of medications to combat it takes him 8.739 seconds to program into the medical machine, a further three minutes and 19.23 seconds to mix the contents of the injection. As he waits he starts an IV drip, wincing as Rose grimaces at the pain of the little needle going into the back of her hand. It should help with dehydration as the fever burns through her.

 

The Doctor wraps her arm back inside the blankets with tender care and waits impatiently for the vial of medication to be delivered to him. When it finally rolls out of the slot at the bottom of the machine and into the holding tray he grabs a sterile syringe and carefully loads the precious liquid inside. A moment later he injects the solution into her saline bag.

 

In a few hours she should be better. Meanwhile all he can do is keep her comfortable. When she shivers again he grabs another blanket from the warming cabinet, raises the heat in the infirmary one more time, but she can’t seem to stop shaking. “So cold,” she says through chattering teeth.

 

“Budge up,” he tells her and crawls into the bed with her on the side that doesn’t hold the IV bag. She curls into him seeking the warmth he offers. He may not be as hot as a human, but body heat does still have its benefits and Rose’s shaking quickly begins to subside as he cuddles her close. She drifts off to sleep again and he waits. He’s spent a lot of time in his life waiting but it’s never felt like this before.

 

 

 

 

He feels it when her fever breaks two days later, feels the sheen of sweat as it emerges from her body. He lets her rest and even though she is warm enough now he is loath to leave her alone, but he does slide out of the bed and sit in a chair instead. He has barely left her side in the past forty-eight hours. “Doctor?” she whispers an hour later as consciousness and coherence return to her. “What am I doing in the infirmary?”

 

“Shh, you were sick. Your fever’s broken. You need to rest.”

 

“Feel like I’ve been laying in bed for days,” she mumbles.

 

“You have been. It was all I could do to get you to eat a bit, and walk you to the loo. You were out of your head with the fever,” he says.

 

“What did I have?” she asks.

 

“Falorian flu. A particularly virulent strain. I checked your blood an hour ago. It’s left your system now but you may feel some residual pain in your joints for a few days. You’re lucky I had the ingredients for the medication on board. This thing moves so quickly. Must have picked it up on Platform Seven,” he says.

 

Rose nods. “My head feels like it’s been put through a cheese grater,” she says. “Twice.”

 

“Your thinking may be off for a few days.” He chances a joke. “So no different than usual, then.”

 

“Oi!” she protests weakly. “There’s nothing wrong with my thinking.”

 

“You ran off with me, didn’t you?” he asks softly.

 

Rose pretends to consider. “You’re right. I’m a nutter.” She smiles. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

 

The Doctor reaches out and puts his hand over her heartbeat, smiling as he feels it speed up under his touch. “All the things I put you through, Rose. I risk your life every single day.”

 

Rose struggles to sit up and manages to untangle her legs from the bed clothes. She dangles them over the side of the bed and reaches for him. Her hand caresses his rugged face and she gives him a gentle smile. “Being with you is worth every danger. You know that.”

 

“You might have died if I didn’t have the supplies I needed,” he admits.

 

“Well, I didn’t do, so no going into a mood. I’m alive, I’m well again and,” her stomach lets out a painfully loud growl, “I’m hungry. Help me to the loo, then help me to the kitchen, and then I want back into a real bed,” she orders looking disdainfully at the exam bed underneath her.

 

The Doctor sighs and nods and does what she says while trying not to feel guilty for everything he’s brought into her life. Once in the kitchen he sets her down and makes her a simple bowl of soup and gets out a bottle of ginger ale.

 

“What about you?” she asks. “You been eating while I’ve been ill?” When he doesn’t answer she says sternly, “Doctor, if you haven’t been taking care of yourself, you need to eat.”

 

“I’m fine, Rose.”

 

She lets her spoon clatter back down into her bowl. “I’m not eating unless you do,” she says. The Doctor rolls his eyes at her ultimatum, especially when her stomach growls angrily again, but he gives in with bad grace and dishes himself up a bowl of the delicious chicken soup and uses half a sleeve of crackers.

 

When they’re done eating he helps her stand and hobble back towards her bedroom. “I’m a bit manky,” she says. “Can you help me to the bath?”

 

“Yeah. Want me to bathe you?” he asks.

 

“Want you to join me,” she says with a sigh.

 

“Rose, that’ll just lead to sex,” he says sternly.

 

“I know.”

 

“You’re not well enough for that,” he says in astonishment that she’d even suggest it.

 

“It’s not like I’m going to be riding you down Main Street like a pony,” she says in exasperation, giggling at the look of horror he knows must be crossing his face at the mere suggestion. He can see her filing it away for future use with a grin, the little minx. She’s definitely well on the way to recovery. “We can take it easy, you know. Not all sex has to be a feat of acrobatics.”

 

He smirks because more often than not, theirs is. He leads her into the bathroom and then starts the bathwater as she leans against the wall for support. He helps her peel off the somewhat ripe pajamas and then holds her steady as she steps into the warmth pooling into the tub. He climbs in beside her and lovingly washes her down, then pulls her into his embrace and shares the heat of her body and the heat of the water.

 

Rose rests against him, her ear pressed to his chest, her hand unconsciously tapping out the rhythm of his double heartsbeat. They have so few moments of rest in their lives that he tries to enjoy them when they happen. If Rose happens to be naked and in his arms, so much the better.

 

“This is nice,” she murmurs. “Feels like I haven’t been warm for days.”

 

“You weren’t. Despite the fever you were so badly chilled I didn’t think I was ever going to get you warm enough,” he says. He can’t help himself when a moment later he says, “Try not to do that again, Rose.”

 

“Get sick?”

 

“Scare me like that.” He knows it’s impossible to ask this of her, that there’s no way she can stop her little human body from being attacked by disease or illness or any other outside forces. It’s wrong of him to lay this on her and he knows it, but he does it anyway.

 

“I’ll do my best,” she replies kissing his chest. Slowly she slides her hand down to his penis and glides across it with her palm before she closes her hand around his erection. “Let me make it up to you.”

 

“You don’t have anything to make up to me, Rose,” he says guiltily.

 

“Mmm,” she mumbles beginning a gentle up and down motion. “I know, but…maybe I just want you to feel better after worrying about me so much.” His penis has hardened so much it is now sticking up out of the water like a periscope. Rose strokes him a few more times then finds the bit of pre-cum that has leaked from his tip and uses her thumb to rub it into the skin around the head. He relaxes into the lazy sensation of her movements.

 

“Feel good?” she asks him.

 

“So good,” he breathes as she twists her wrist then slips down to the base. She moves her cheek a bit on his chest and her lips fasten on to his nipple, her little tongue flicking across the tip in darting little movements as her hand continues it’s steady rise and fall. He groans softly as she stops and lathers her hand with soap before resuming her ministrations. Now she goes faster, her hand slipping easily and he hardens further still under her touch.

 

Her teeth nip at the risen peak in her mouth and he shudders lightly as the nerve endings there unexpectedly surge. Heat washes down to his groin. “Rose, I’m going to come soon,” he warns her. “Unless you want it in the bath with us you need to stop.” She sits up, pushing herself away from him and wiggles around to take him into her mouth. Before he can protest that she’s not well enough for this she’s slipped her lips over the head of his penis and all thoughts of stopping her leave him.

 

Her mouth is like heaven as it closes around him and he moves one wet hand to the top of her head, resting it there, not seeking to guide her, only wishing to have contact as she pleasures him. Her eyes look up and focus on his and she smiles around his girth. Her tongue slides down the thick vein on the underside then as she pulls back up settles into the tip. She laps there for a moment before taking him deep again. He sucks in his stomach as her hand slides across it, nails raking him lightly before slipping downwards to cradle and lightly caress his heavy balls.

 

Rose sucks in air around him, the warm steam from the bath adding to her own heat. He shudders as her nails slide against his testicles and he manages, “Rose, I—,” before he’s blasting into her mouth. He can feel her swallowing his fluid, feel her sucking hard to drain every last drop from his body. He bucks into her mouth at the increased pressure and she makes a garbled noise but doesn’t let him go until he’s done.

 

When he is, she pulls off of him with a loud pop and gives him a soft smile. She crawls back up his body and settles into the space beside him. “Thank you,” she says, “for taking care of me.”

 

He smiles. “I think it’s you who’s always taking care of me,” he says.

 

She grins. “We take care of each other,” she tells him.

 

“Speaking of…” He covers his hand with soap then reaches down between her thighs and gently wiggles them apart, his fingers sliding through the soft folds of her sex and seeking the little hidden treasure. He slips his thumb and forefinger around her clit and gently pulls it until it rises up then he begins slow even circles with his middle finger while easing his pinky into her opening. 

 

Rose wiggles and squirms and pants and comes in what she later tells him is an embarrassingly quick amount of time. He swallows her moans with a kiss, his tongue working happily against hers as he takes slow and thorough dominion over her mouth. When she finishes he releases her lips and she sighs.

 

They stay in the bath until the water begins to grow cold and then he rises up and pulls her to his feet. Rose shivers and he reaches for something to dry her with quickly. Wrapping her in a big fluffy towel he escorts her back to her bed and uses his body heat to warm her up all over again. And when he is finished Rose tells him with a smile that warms his hearts through that she doesn’t think she’ll ever be cold again.