Show/ Ship= Doctor Who. Ten/Rose
Disclamier- I own this...and pretty much everything else.
Summary- The war is on and Rose is playing dirty.
A/N- I checked when the last time this was updated. Sept 27 2007. It's been almost 3 years so...uh...oops. and anyone still willing to read thanks, well done and blimey you've got staying power.
Previous parts found under this link
Games Part 6-
That was it. Rose had had it.
She paced back and forth in her room, her footsteps making a dull thud against the carpeted floor as she strode from the bed to the door and back again.
Since his regeneration Rose seemed to have spent most non 'running-for-her-life' time pacing in here and a grove was starting to wear in the thick pile.
That stupid, arrogant, egotistical, manic, bi-polar, nut job!
She knew he was trying to drive her crazy; knew he was trying to make her positively implode with lust and she was so close to doing just that.
Bloody Time Lord.
She'd almost had him; she'd been so close to the Doctor finally giving in and succumbing to the tension between them. He'd had her up against the TARDIS console for heaven's sake and then... and then... just when she thought they'd finally kiss, her bloody mobile rings and he runs away like a Yurric in the Olren Games.
Rose huffed and kicked out at the bedstead, stubbing her foot and cursing in Venusian. She hopped twice, cradling her poor toe before sinking despondently to the mattress.
It was getting ridiculous now, pens and ice cream and cream cakes and lollipops and cleaning the TARDIS.
She was so turned on around him that cleaning the console had almost sent her over the edge.
God, she was pathetic.
But she couldn't let him win, she couldn't be the one to take their relationship to the next level no matter how much both of them seemed to need it because, if she did, she would never be sure if it is what he really wanted or if he was just reacting to her.
Damn him, why did he have to make things so difficult?
He was a bloke... sort of... why didn't he just man up and plant one on her? Why did he have to play these games and drive her out of her mind?
Maybe she should just walk up to him, grab him by the tie and drag him back to her bedroom?
Rose grinned at the thought of his expression were she to do that. Poleaxed and possibly petrified.
No, she had to be subtle. She had to get the Doctor to come to her. She had to make him so insane with lust that he had no choice but to jump her.
She lay back on the bed and nibbled her lip, deep in thought.
What did the Doctor find entrancing about her? What could she use that would make him let go completely?
What did he spend ages staring at--
A slow smile slid over her lips.
“--need it, don't need it, don't need it, need it, need it, what is that?” The Doctor held the piece of metal up to his face and tilted his head.
It could be the remnants of an interstellar forcefield manipulator, it could be a piece of space debris, a Ghi'lan Horse whip or maybe it was a...
“Paper clip! Could possibly need it.” he threw it into one pile and continued digging through the drawer.
The TARDIS had gotten thoroughly stuck in the mud on their last adventure and refused to land until she had soaked up some vortex energy. Rose had complained about never being able to find anything in the study and so he'd decided that it was time for a spring clean.
Or a good old root around, see what he could find. He'd already found the first prototype sonic screwdriver-- well, it had been more of a sonic spanner at the time-- and the first copy of Love's Labours Lost signed by Shakespeare himself, a fragment of Big Bang debris, a perfume bottle shaped like a banana, two hundred year old Jelly babies and a small tribe evolved from pencil shavings.
He chewed on a Jelly Baby and rifled through the debris.
“Need it, need it, don't need it, euch!” His face wrinkled in disgust as something slithered under his hand and darted into the depths of the drawer.
He peered into the gloom. Something moved in the shadows.
“Hello!” he whispered softly. “What are you then? Come on out, I'm not going to hurt you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his specs, leaning in closer. “Hello?”
“Are you talking to yourself again?”
A smile flitted across his face as he heard Rose enter the room. He didn't turn his head, though, his eyes intent on uncovering what life form was setting up shop in his study desk.
“Nope, there's something living in here,” he paused, “something else.”
The Doctor poked the debris. “Could be a new life form, could be a spider, not sure.” He licked his lips and chewed at his bottom lip. “He seems to be shy, whoever he is.”
“May-be yhou should leave him alohne,”
“Yhou?” The Doctor wrinkled his nose, “you sound funny.”
“Sore throat,” Rose whispered, “think I'm coming down with something.”
“Oh, poor you, maybe we should--” he lifted his head and what they should do dribbled out of his brain along with any other form of intelligent thought.
Rose was standing in the doorway, the light from the corridor edging her in gold, making her skin a golden hue that seemed to emanate from her core.
She literally glowed. But that wasn't what caught the Doctor's attention.
Rose was wearing a short, silk, red night dress.
Short. Silk. Red.
Rose wasn't one for parading around in very little. She wore jeans and t-shirt like her own personal armor and it had only been recently that she started mixing it up; shirts and trousers and the very occasional skirt. But nothing immodest, nothing too flirtatious or revealing. And now this.
It was like being brought up sweet-free and suddenly being handed a bar of Cadbury's.
Rose, red silk, Cadbury's.
His mouth watered. She looked like the biggest shiniest present in the whole Universe and all he wanted to do was get up, walk over and unwrap it.
Except he couldn't quite remember how to move his legs. They'd gone numb.
Rose smiled at him and stepped into the room.
Her voice was low and deep and shot straight to his... well, he wasn't completely numb below the waist.
She inclined her head and licked her lower lip, his eyes traced it with intense fascination.
“I'm not feeling so hot,” she whispered her breathy voice sending exactly the wrong type of sensations through him.
“Uh,” it was less a word and more a exhalation but it seemed to satisfy a niche in the conversation.
Rose let her hand drift lazily up to her throat and she rubbed it gently, tilting her head back and letting a small moan rip from her lips.
Yes he was.
Oh, her. Right yes.
The Doctor cleared his throat. Poor Rose. Here she was not feeling very well and all he was doing was ogling her.
Ogle. What a horrible word. Almost as bad as objectify and wasn't he doing well for remembering words right now. Ogle. Objectify. Stare. Gawk. Leer. Let eyes linger on that soft expanse of...
“Sorry?” He managed, his own words coming out suspiciously raspy.
“I feel really sick,” she said, “Maybe I caught something from running in the rain the other day.”
His back brain caught up with his... other brain and he cleared his throat. “Ah.”
Genius. True Genius. This was Rose who was feeling ill. He wanted to be comforting and suave and charming.
But apparently she'd short circuited his mind.
Rose sighed and looked despondently at him. “Is there anything you can for me?” she whispered hoarsely, her mouth open in a little pout, tongue peeking out.
Anything he could do for her?.
Oh, she had no idea. He'd been a teenager once with the whole of Time and Space in front of him. He'd been to Pleasure planets where two words could make you come and three would have you begging for more. He could do things with his tongue that were illegal in five star systems and his hands had been outlawed in the Hedra Galaxy. He'd been horny and curious and eager to learn and right now he wanted to do things to Rose that they didn't even have a name for yet.
Anything he could do for her? Just stop him.
He lurched to his feet, eyes intent on his Rose.
A Rose who was standing in red silk and biting her lower lip with something in her eyes that made him...
Hold on, wait a minute.
He stopped so abruptly that he almost fell over his own feet.
They didn't go running in the rain. At least not recently. They'd run from fish with lances and Tetrahedron's with a grudge but not in actual rain.
Which meant that Rose had made that up.
Which meant that Rose was lying.
Rose wasn't sick.
He peered at her closely.
In fact Rose was the very picture of health.
Healthy Rose with not much on and a gleam in her eye.
Rose had somehow realized that his tactile sense would register off the charts with something as sumptuous as red silk and she had acted accordingly. Even now the thought of running his tongue across the satiny material was enough to make his trousers tight and his hearts race.
She knew that the combination of Rose and silk would be enough to make him lose what little restraint he had.
He was almost impressed with her deviousness.
But he had no intention of being the first to cave. It was not only a game but it was about pride now. He could be patient.
Well, actually, he couldn't. Was known for not being patient in fact.
He'd deliberately skipped seven years and bought the whole box set of Harry Potter straight after the first one had been released. Then he'd gone straight to 2011 and watched all of the movies in one sitting.
So no, he wasn't known for his patience.
But he could and that was the important thing.
Well, he couldn't but he was sneaky and that was what mattered.
Rose was still staring at him with that come-hither look and it took precious seconds for him to recall what he had been going to do.
Rose said she was ill; well, maybe he should treat her like she was.
This would require no great restraint and acting like Dench.
He took a deep breath and strode forwards, his eyes locked to hers, no deviation to any skin whatsoever.
He reached up clinically and placed a hand on her forehead.
“Oh, Rose,” he breathed, “you do feel hot.”
He inwardly smirked as he heard her breath hitch.
“But!” He bounced on his heels and turned away. “I've got just the thing for that. Bed rest and a nice Jaccasian face mask.”
“Face mask?” Rose's voice was more flat than flirty and he bit back a grin.
He reached over and placed a hand on the small of her back, the silk sliding sensuously against his palm like water. The nerve endings in his hand tingled and he closed his eyes, fighting for control.
I will not jump Rose. I will not jump Rose.
He pressed his hands firmer against her skin and managed to get her to turn.
“Oh yes, the Jaccasians had a marvelous regime to eradicate colds and flu from any time period. Of course the actual ingredients in the mask... well, better not even think about it-- like sausages, it's best to just enjoy and not inquire. Except if you're allergic to rancid cream of blatmuck grubs?”
Rose's healthy hue faded slightly as he herded her down the corridor to her room.
Yep, nothing sexy about blatmuck grubs. Not even to other blatmuck grubs.
It was almost enough to make him forget that she was wearing a small slip of nothing. A tiny slip of nothing that could so easily slide off and fall, leaving her...
she stopped abruptly cutting off his train of thought.
“My room,” she said with a small smile.
He looked up. Obviously the TARDIS had decided to move her room closer, else he'd been daydreaming about silk-less Rose for longer than he thought.
“Right,” he mustered, “your room. Rose's room, the room of Rose. I'll tell you what, you go in and get into bed and I'll go make tea. Tea with tannins, good for what ails you, yeah?”
Rose eyed him for a moment, face oddly blank and then a slow smile tripped over her lips. “Tea?” her voice dropped another octave and she drew out her next words like torture. “I like mine sweet. Wet. And hot.” She bit her lip. “Can you manage that?”
Then she swept into her room and closed the door behind her.
He closed his eyes and swallowed, leaning his head against the door.
She was going to kill him. He was literally going to regenerate from desire. Death by UST. It could happen.
Right, well before he died he was going to make tea.
He looked down.
Shower first, then tea.