Fayth (faythbrady) wrote,
Fayth
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Fic- Games of the Orally Fixated 8

Title- Games of the Orally Fixated part 8
Author- Faythbrady
Show/ Ship= Doctor Who. Ten/Rose
Rating- YT/R/M
Disclamier- I held Nicholas Courtney's hand. Pretty much own the universe right now.
Summary- Things reach breaking point. A towel is lost.

Games 8

It was with a rather girly scream that Doctor jumped out of the shower.

He grabbed a fluffy towel off the rail and wrapped it around his skinny form, glaring at the offending cubicle.

“That,” he said, “was not nice!”

And it hadn't been.

What had been nice was walking into the console room this afternoon, promising to take Rose to see the Rainbow aardvarks and lemon snow of Erat Bulova, and seeing her dressed in those tight denim jeans and knee high boots.

What had also been nice was the view she gave him as she bent over to retrieve her dropped hairgrips and the way her breasts lifted as she stuck her hair up in a loose ponytail.

What had been very nice was the smile she gave and the way she poked her tongue out at him in that playful way that made him want to see exactly how that tongue tasted his own mouth.

In a sexy kissing way, not a cannibal way.

What had been less nice was the sudden realization that he was breast man and that Rose's top was far too low for his peace of mind.

What was even less nice was the sudden reaction of his body to her teasing and the urge he got to drape her over the console and bite down just... there.

It probably wasn't nice to walk (run) away claiming an urgent errand before they landed and that she should just stay there.

The walk to the shower wasn't at all nice.

The cold shower hadn't been nice, but necessary.

The shower suddenly turning from freezing (and barely doing its job) to boiling was what had the Doctor screaming like a little girl and grabbing for his sonic screwdriver.

That really, really, wasn't nice.

And suddenly the word 'nice' lost all meaning for the Doctor as he brandished the... toothbrush.

Ah.

Oops.

“What was that for?” he pouted as he replaced the toothbrush and grabbed his sonic, switching the shower off with a quick flip of his finger. “Hey? I don't go around suddenly flooding you with boiling water do I?”

The TARDIS sent him a mental picture of him dropping his tea onto the console floor.

“Ah, yes, well,” he scratched his ear, “there were extenuating circumstances.”

And there had been.

Black flapper dress coming to erotic knees circumstances.

He'd never known knees could be erotic.

Hence the tea dropping.

“Oh, okay, so I doused you and you're getting revenge. Fine.” He tucked the towel in firmer around his waist. “It's your fault if I drip water on the floor now, isn't it?”

There was a beat as he smiled smugly, assuming that he'd got one up on the TADIS, only to be reigned in by the sudden mauve flash that shot through the room followed by a ear-splitting siren.

And then a low resonating thud of a bell.

His hearts stilled.

“No, no, it can't be!” He turned on his heel and raced out of the bathroom.

The floor was slippery and cold beneath his bare feet as he hurtled down the corridor, turning sharply at the corner and skidding, slamming straight into a wall.

A soft wall.

His Time Lord sense reeled and he grabbed at the warm skin purely to stop himself falling over.

Well, almost purely.

Rose stared up at him in astonishment.

“Rose!” he said frantically, “What's wrong?”

He grabbed at her upper arms, almost shaking her in his worry and confusion.

>>

Rose had been looking for the Doctor for the best part of ten minutes. He hadn't been in the library, or the study, or any of the twelve other rooms that he could have been in and she was getting fed up of looking for him when he had suddenly careened around the corner and was even now staring at her like her life was at stake.

The worry etched on his face was the usual one after life and death situations, but they were safe in the TARDIS.

Rose lifted her hands to his rapidly beating hearts and frowned.

“Rose!”

Rose shrugged. “Nothing's wrong, Doctor.”

“What was the Mauve alert?”

Rose glanced around. “I didn't see any mauve alert, nothing was going off in the console room.”

He stilled. “What about the alarms?”

She gave him a dubious look, “I didn't hear any alarms.”

“But the cloister bell!”

Cloister bell, what's a cloister bell? Wasn't that something from Red Dwarf?

Rose shook her head. “No bells, whistles, alarms of any colour, let alone mauve. I just left the console, yeah, and everything was fine. You know except for the lack of Doctor, who'd left me to do something important.”

She let her eyes fall from his, drifting lazily down his skinny bare chest, toasty warm against her fingers from his brief roasting in the shower. His torso glistened with water droplets, rivulets forming against his thin collar bone, pooling on top of his clavicle and sliding languorously down his chest, circling his belly button and catching in the folds of the fluffy white towel draped dangerously low on his hips.

Her eyes followed down his hairy runners legs, his long delicate feet and back up again, catching at his shaking hands, his freckled shoulder and ending with his wet hair, water hanging like teardrops from the ends of his tousled locks.

He was wet, worried and good enough to eat and he made her mouth water.

Hang on, he was supposed to be taking her to Eratta Bulldog or something. Why was he suddenly soaking?

“What was it? Emergency shower?”

“Yes,” he said seemingly without thinking and Rose raised an eyebrow. “I mean, no. Well, the... the uh, aardvarks are very particular about scent and I realised that I smelled a little like the underside of the TARDIS engine and they...uh hate the smell of grease. Grease the engine oil, not Grease the Musical. Which doesn't really have a smell, although-- ”

“Shut up,” Rose ordered and he obliged, more out of shock than anything. “You're lying.”

“I'm not!” he said in a hurt tone.

“Yeah you are, you always start to ramble when you're lying.” Rose thought a second. “And its different from your usual ramble.

He stared at her affronted. “I don't ramble.”

Rose laughed out loud. “Yeah you do. They've even got different names. There's the “we're in danger and I need to buy time” ramble. There's the “This situation is uncomfortable and I'm gonna keep talking til the ice breaks” ramble and then there's the “if I ramble long enough someone will spill their major plan” ramble.”

His eyes widened. “Oh!”

“That one was a “I'm making this up as I go along” ramble.” she frowned. That word sounded weird now.

He grinned widely, pride in his eyes and affection in his tone.“Ramble is losing all meaning now, isn't it?”

“Sort of, yeah,” Rose grinned and then poked him sharply, “but that doesn't change the subject. Why did you suddenly need to go for an emergency shower, Doctor?”

He opened and shut his mouth several times before lifting his hand and raking it through his damp hair. “That really isn't the point, Rose. What is the point is that there were sirens and alarms and a mauve alert just now which means that something is wrong with the TARDIS.”

Rose stared at him for a beat.

He was on the defensive and she could push this, she knew she could and he would have to answer and maybe, just maybe, they could resolve this tension. But...

But maybe there was something wrong with the TARDIS, just because she didn't hear it didn't mean that there wasn't a siren. Just because he was back-peddling and being a baby about it all doesn't mean that she shouldn't let it go.

Was she going to let it go?

Was she going to let him get away with it? Was she going to cave and allow him to wriggle off the hook, once again going unsatisfied.

She sagged.

“I didn't hear anything, but we should check.”

Chicken.

The Doctor beamed, relieved that he was free and took a step back, “Right well, first we should--”

But what they should do was lost as the TARDIS suddenly jolted causing the whole corridor to tilt sideways.

The Doctor careened forwards, slamming into Rose and knocking her to the ground.

He wrapped his arms around her as the corridor seemed to roll, the wall being floor then ceiling and back to wall again.

Rose closed her eyes as she was hurtled from hard surface to surface, the wind leaving her body in a whoosh. She concentrated on the two arms holding her safely, one hand in her hair protecting her head from being knocked around, firmly anchoring her to his body.

Finally the TARDIS stopped rolling and they lay together on the floor, Rose tucked beneath his cool body, breathing hard as her heart rate tried to return to normal.

She breathed in and felt her hands tighten on his back.

“Shh,” he whispered against her neck, “we're safe now. She's stopped.”

Rose nodded hesitantly and took another breath.

It was calming and it was soothing and it smelled of the Doctor. She breathed in again and got another waft of his unique scent; cinnamon and jam and male and spices and an odd sandalwood and leather aroma.

Then she felt the Doctor breathe in, his breath against her neck, sending tingles down her spine and suddenly, their safety was no longer first place in her mind.

Their position, however, was.

Laying on top of her was a firm, hard male body. His arms were still around her tightly, holding her in place, one hand twisted in her hair, still cushioning her head from the cold floor. His body was aligned with her own, his chest, hips and thighs pressed tightly against her own. His head lay against her shoulder each breath causing chills to run down her body.

His legs were twisted around hers, one underneath and one astride so that she was almost tucked between his legs.

His long legs.

His long bare legs which seemed to be missing something.

Like the towel that was currently laying across the hallway.

Her breath caught in her throat and a blush spread across her face.

Oh, holy crap, he was naked.

Naked and sprawled across her like his own personal teddy-bear.

He lifted his head and his gaze caught hers.

He smiled. “Hello.”

“Hello,” her voice wobbled.

His smile slipped and concern drifted over his features. “Are you okay? Rose are you hurt?”

She shook her head.

Not hurt.

Not really.

“Rose?”

“'m fine,” she muttered, a smirk starting to drift over her lips. “But you seem to be missing something.”

He frowned. “Like what?”

She looked to the side and his eyes followed hers to the white fluffy towel that was no longer firmly wrapped around his loins.

His eyes widened and blush started from his chest and swept over his face.

“Ah.”

“Uh huh,” Rose grinned. Pink suited the Doctor.

His eyes widened even further as something occurred to him and his head shot down to their entwined bodies, confirming what he suspected.

Red suited the Doctor even better.

“I'd better get off... I mean get on... move on, slide... oh Rassilon!”

Rose couldn't help but giggle as he spiralled into obscenities.

“That's number three,” she whispered, “the 'uncomfortable situation' ramble. Or it is number four, the 'not sure where it goes' ramble.”

His eyes widened even further. “Rose Tyler!”

She nibbled her lower lip. “I meant the situation, Doctor. Not sure where that goes.”

“Oh.”

“But if you need instructions...” she trailed off with a smile.

He swallowed and shifted slightly.

Rose hissed and the sound made him freeze.

He stared down at her, a million thoughts and emotions running across his face, hard to read but even harder not to look at.

His mouth hovered just above hers, his breathing ragged and she could feel his hearts pounding against her chest, two beats thrumming just over her aching breasts like a throbbing within.

A small whimper started in the back of her throat and his head lowered, his mouth a whisper above hers.

“Rose,” he spoke into her mouth, his breath becoming hers and hers becoming his. Millimetres away from being a real honest kiss.

Her eyes drifted closed.

His hands reached out and snagged the towel as he darted up, sliding off Rose and across the hallways.

He was on the other side of the corridor before she even registered that he'd moved.

He draped the towel around his waist and stood, half hunched and gasping for breath.

Rose lurched to her feet, anger on her face and hurt accusation etched into her face.

“What the hell was that?” She demanded.

He tried to speak but couldn't, the words coming out a squeak. “R-ose, Rose, we... the TARDIS.”

He took a deep breath. “I would... I mean, I do... but the bang and alert. Something is wrong. We may be in danger and until I know, we can't... Rose.”

“What?” she ground out.

His eyes pleaded for her understanding, begged for her forgiveness and, logically, Rose knew that he had a point. If the TARDIS had sounded an alarm (even if she hadn't heard it) and then jolted them like that, then there was probably something wrong and they should check it out before doing anything else.

But damn if she wasn't aroused beyond words and ready to burst.

“Rose,” his voice was hoarse.

“What?” she snarled.

“You're wet,” one hand frantically clutched his towel the other gestured wildly to her chest.

Rose looked down. Slippery wet Doctor sliding all over her rendered her thin cotton shirt all but see-through, wet patches causing the material to stick to her.

By the Doctor's expression it was sticking in some interesting places.

His eyes were hot, his hands were shaking.

Rose snapped.

She grabbed for the hem of her shirt and in one smooth move pulled it over her head.

His slack-jawed expression registered only momentarily before she threw it in his face.

“Who's fault is that?” she growled and turned on her heel and marched back to her room.

The slam echoed around the TARDIS.





Tags: doctorwho, fanfic, fic, games
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