By Sharma Wild. First published on A Teaspoon & An Open Mind, 2007.
Sequel to In Dreams: Dreams and fantasises can no longer quench her fire. Rose yearns for the Doctor’s touch, but will he welcome her or will he push her away?
Another adventure, another night of cold, empty silence onboard the TARDIS.
The time-machine hummed lowly as the young girl sat awake and stared into the darkness. Rose felt lonely, isolated, and she wondered how that could be when the Doctor was sleeping mere feet away, sprawled in one of the seats by the controls, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Straining her ears she listened to the soft, even breaths, jealous of the Time Lord’s peaceful sleep that she herself could never find. Not anymore.
Everything was different now, and a part of her ached for things to be exactly the way they used to, when the Doctor had only been a friend, companion and teacher to her, and that had been more than enough. But not now, it was never enough now. It was never close enough, it was never intimate enough, and the Doctor never seemed to notice how she yearned for him, how she ached.
Or perhaps he did notice but simply didn’t care?
Darkly, Rose chewed on her lower lip and let out a small sigh.
Out of an impulse, she got up and carefully approached the sleeping Time Lord. He looked young and gentle in his sleep, and appeared to be smiling a little, the corners of his soft inviting lips curved slightly. Rose drew in a sharp breath at the sight, and felt her heart beating fast in her chest with admiration and deep, almost overwhelming love. And still the Doctor’s beauty hurt, and a part of her almost wished that he too, would suffer the way that she did.
Could he not sense what Rose was going through? Was he so oblivious to the pain the distance he so carefully kept up, was causing her?
Age, race, all the things that separated them, meant nothing when she looked upon his face, leaned close to breath in his tantalising fragrance. She was not a child anymore, and her needs were no longer those of a confused teenager who looked up to the older man as a father figure, yearning for guidance. No, she was painfully aware that the Doctor was not her father, that he were the only one in this entire universe that she desired so much it was torture.
It was no longer enough to remember the kiss they had shared, to fantasise about what it would have been like if he, instead of pulling away, had deepened the kiss, had buried his hands in her hair and pulled her even closer. It was not enough to simply dream about what his body would feel like under her fingers…
Rose needed, craved him. She yearned to touch and be touched. Nothing, no dreams, no fantasies could ever soothe the desperate yearning and quench her fire.
Slowly, like in some kind of trance, she raised her arm, and very carefully reached out. Closer, closer, an inch a second. Her hand hovered above the Doctor’s chest, trembling slightly. Hesitated.
Finally she lowered fingers electrified by his body heat.
With a rapid movement, the Time Lord’s hand darted up and grabbed Rose’s wrist. His eyes, the colour of a storm whipped sea, snapped open, wide-awake, alarmed.
The girl stared at the Doctor, frozen in mid-motion. Gazing into the intense depths of his eyes, she dared not move or breathe. Transfixed by the realization that the Doctor had known what she was about to do.
“Don’t do this.” His voice was dark, stern almost.
“Do what?” Rose asked challengingly. She had already crossed the line, and nothing could keep her from going further now. “This?” She raised her free hand and let cheeky fingertips slide admiringly over the Doctor’s chest, downwards, towards his crotch.
“You shouldn’t play with fire”, he said.
“Maybe I want to get burned”, she retorted.
A fierce light flashed in the stormy eyes, and the Doctor caught her teasing fingers, crossing her wrists so that he could hold her with one hand. Rose gasped, the sensation of being at his mercy so intensely erotic that she felt her knees weakening. Time seemed to stop as their eyes locked.
A breath caught in her chest as she fell into his gaze, drowning in the churning ocean that she found there. Then, with a suddenness that made her head spin, the Doctor pulled her down onto his lap, crushing their lips together.
“Forgive me…” he whispered against her mouth.
For what, she wanted to ask but the kiss deepened, his fingers caught in her hair, and all thought dropped from Rose’s mind as she pressed herself against him, her fingers raking over the leather jacket wishing it would simply vanish into thin air.
She could feel him through the straining fabric of his jeans and her pyjama-pants, like a line of fire against the core of her pleasure. She moaned and moved against him, driving a throaty sigh from him that vibrated against her lips.
Rose tugged feebly at the lapels of his jacket. “Take it off”, she whispered. “I want to touch you… Please, I need to…”
He shrugged it off his shoulders and she pushed it down his arms, and suddenly he was the one that was caught, his arms and hands tangled up in the jacket’s sleeves. A cheeky smile played over her full lips when she noticed. Her eyes were like molten amber as she grabbed his tee shirt and simply tore it apart to reveal his chest.
“Oh, Doctor…” Rose breathed.
He tried to growl at her for having destroyed one of his favourite shirts, but somehow the sound that escaped him sounded more like a wistful sigh as she teasingly trailed her fingers down his chest. And when she leaned in and traced the line of his neck with lips barely brushing the skin he moaned.
Rose’s soft lips feathered down into the crook of his neck as her hands slowly began to move. Her palms slid across hard pectorals, drawing lines on his taut chest before she paused to ghost her fingertips over his nipples, teasing him mercilessly.
The Doctor shuddered when she pressed her mouth against his skin, licking, nipping. He squirmed under her, revelling in the friction it caused against his groin, heat growing irresistibly. He struggled against the persistent leather jacket that stopped him from touching the girl and this time he managed to free himself. With a triumphant grin, he slid his hands under the white tank top she wore.
Rose had to bite her lip not to cry out when the Doctor cupped her breasts; tormenting her in the same way she had tormented him. She slipped her hand further down, across his taught stomach to the waistband of his jeans, but when her fingers found the zipper the Doctor froze.
“Rose…” Her name rolled off his tongue like poetry, as he caught her hand, moving it away from his crotch. “We shouldn’t go there. It would change things between us-”
“Things has already changed”, she whispered. But the Time Lord shook his head slowly.
“No they haven’t, not really.”
“What do you call this then?” She wanted to know, her voice suddenly sharp with anger. “A friendly game of chess?”
“Say we became lovers”, he said in a soft tone that held so much compassion, that cut through her like a knife. “Then what?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, you are a young one aren’t you?” He gave her a small grin before becoming serious again. “Holidays, tea with your mum, dinner with the entire family”, he explained. “I don’t do that.”
“You wouldn’t have to”, Rose said, feeling a lump forming in her throat.
“But you do, Rose”, the Doctor replied. “You belong with someone who can talk to your mum without wanting to rip her head off, someone who’ll go shopping for a Christmas presents for your Uncle Oscar.”
Rose’s beautiful face was suddenly a mask of pain, her lower lip trembled precariously. “I don’t have an uncle named Oscar.”
He rolled his eyes at her. “You know what I mean.”
She plucked at the remains of his tee shirt, the fierce desire slowly fading away to be replaced by a numbness that was worse than anything she had felt before.
The Doctor’s heart felt heavy like led. “I’m sorry”, he said as she pushed away from him and rose. “I never meant to hurt you.”
Rose was already heading for the door that would take her deeper into the TARDIS, to the privacy of her room, away from him. She stopped long enough to give him a look over her shoulder.
“But you did, Doctor.” And then she was gone, the door softly closing behind her.
The Doctor rubbed a hand wearily across his eyes before spinning the chair around until he faced the console. He stared emptily at the screen.
He had been overwhelmed by her straightforwardness, by the sensation of having her so close, by the desire that had welled up inside him. It wouldn’t happen again, he would control himself. After all, he was 900 years old, the last of a race with mastery over space and time. Surely he would be able to resist a nineteen year old girl, even if the girl was as lovely and wonderful as Rose?