Title- Encroaching Madness 12/20
Disclaimer- I own nothing you recognise and everything you don't.
Summary-The Doctor did not just say that...DID HE???
A/n- Sequel to the Darkness Within. With thanks to all who reviewed and my beta reader Gargantua.
Chapter 11 )
Rose couldn’t quite believe he’d said what she thought he’d said. Had he really just thrown aside years of repression and avoidance and said…
“When you say ‘dance’?” she said breathlessly.
His wolfish grin did things to her that were illegal on several planets.
“I mean…our version of dance.” He pulled her in close to him, so close that she could feel his wiry body all along hers, could feel the warmth of his solid frame even through her clothes.
“Dance with me,” he urged against her ear, sending shivers down her spine.
Rose bit her lip and closed her eyes as his breath drifted across her body.
“Dance?” she whispered, her voice rough around the edges like her nerves.
“Dance,” he demanded as he slanted his mouth over hers.
This was no mere kiss, it was a demand for submission, a promise of forever and a seduction wrapped up in tongue and lips and sheer undeniable attraction.
Rose was powerless to resist and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he plundered, trying to use that famous oral fixation to taste every inch of her mouth.
Rose liked the way he tasted, dark, potent and a little reckless.
She wrapped her fingers in his thick hair and tugged lightly, breaking the kiss so she could take in some of that much needed but interfering air.
He blinked at the intrusion, wondering if he had read her wrong but was reassured as she faced him, a sweetly seductive look on her face
“Oxygen,” she explained, “us apes have to breathe occasionally.”
“Inconvenient,” he agreed.
“I’ll make it up to you,” Rose vowed with a smile that wrapped around both his hearts and squeezed.
Certain he was hallucinating; he touched that silky soft blonde hair to make sure that she was real.
“What’dya have in mind?” he asked huskily.
Rose stretched her arms around his neck and pressed her soft body against him, and the Doctor was suddenly, intimately aware that she was real.
With a cat-like smirk Rose kissed him back.
When her tongue slipped past his lips, he felt as if he’d been burned. Her tongue moved in an erotic invitation he couldn’t resist and he pulled her against him tighter, every inch of their bodies pressing against each other. He was stronger than Rose had thought was possible in this body and she discovered that she liked the way his muscles strained beneath her fingertips.
His chest was hard against her and as he deepened the kiss she could feel a rumble of pleasure deep within him,
She arched against him, wanting to feel more of him, loving the noises that rose, unbidden from him.
He groaned and dropped his mouth to her throat. “You don’t know what you’ve started,” he growled against her skin.
He grabbed for her t-shirt, yanking it off in one smooth movement and throwing it to the floor, the scrap of material forgotten the second it left his hands. Rose was reaching for his leather jacket, pushing the too-big top off him even as he reached for the snap of her jeans.
Hands tangled at cross purposes and they laughed as they fought to undress each other, green jumper thrown to the end of the bed, Levi jeans slung over his shoulder haphazardly, boots kicked off and trainers thrown at the X ray machine and suddenly they were laying on the medical bed, the small scraps of Rose’s underwear and his own jeans the only things left on.
He stared down at the ridiculously enticing pieces of cotton and his fingers curved possessively into her hips.
Rose blushed at the everyday black cotton underwear. “If I knew we were…dancing, I would have worn something a bit nicer.”
“I like these,” he whispered, eyes full of desire and promise. “But I prefer you without.” He tore the offending articles off her and grinned at the scraps in his hand.
He looked down to share the joke of how easily she was disrobed but the scenery caught his attention and stopped his mouth.
All he could do was look.
Naked, her blonde hair spread out over the white covers, her blue eyes brimming with passion, she reminded him of a conqueror’s prize. He had stared at her cleavage before on many occasions, grateful for the twenty-first century fashion of low cut tops and clingy outfits, but seeing them in all their glory was something different.
“Huh,” he said, not realising that he had his trademark “pole-axed” expression on.
“What?” Rose bit her lip nervously as he stared.
“I’m a breast man,” he shook his head in delight, “wasn’t expecting that.”
Rose giggled and he grinned back at her.
“You’re doing a lot of looking,” she complained, leaning up on one elbow. “And you got more clothes on than me.”
She reached for his belt and took her time undoing the buckle and sliding her hands against his hips to pull the trousers off.
“You’re going to kill me,” he told her, closing his eyes.
“Too slow?” Rose teased. “Am I making you wait?”
“Yes,” he growled with gritted teeth.
“Oh dear, wonder what that feels like.”
He grabbed her hands, his eyes promising retribution for her ruthless teasing.
When she poked her tongue out between her teeth he almost lost it.
Go slow, go slow, go slow. He mentally chanted the words like a mantra while his body grew rigid and his breath shortened.
Rose wasn’t waiting any more, though and leaned down to press feathered kisses against his exposed hipbone as she finally divested him of his trousers and he found it excruciating to watch her head so close to his throbbing hardness. Just a breath away, her hair sliding like exquisite torture over him.
She slid her hands up his thighs, then to the front where she cradled him in her palm.
A wounded groan of longing came from deep inside him.
With wicked eyes she moved her thumb over his shaft and he jerked.
Rose lifted her gaze to his and her desire to bring him pleasure was written all over her face. “What do you want?”
“Everything,” he blurted breathlessly, “I want to touch you and taste and know every single inch.” He shook his head. “But if I don’t get inside you soon, I think I might just regenerate.”
Rose laughed as he grabbed her shoulder and hauled her up against his chest, catching her mouth in a sizzling kiss.
Savouring her naked body, the Doctor stroked her inside until she was trembling.
“Doctor,” she cried but he just shook his head.
Not yet, he thought, not just yet. She wasn’t his, she wasn’t begging for him.
He stroked her again and she keened in his arms.
“Please!” she begged and rush of satisfaction curved his lips, her sweetly begging lips affecting him like a live wire.
Locking his gaze with her, letting her know that it was him who was bringing her such pleasure, he positioned himself between her thigh and thrust inside her as deep as he could go.
Encircling him like a tight, wet glove, Rose arched towards him. It was his turn to tremble, his turn to ache and beg as they started up a rhythm older than he was.
He watched her, savouring every millisecond, every breath, every heartbeat until Rose convulsed around him, her shudders sending him joining her only seconds later.
Five minutes later she’d caught her breath enough to speak.
“Everything?” She asked. “I think everything might just kill me.”
He grinned against her skin. “Oh, you’d be surprised what you can live through.”
Rose poked his back, enjoying the weight of him over her. “No Disney quotes in bed.”
He leaned up on one arm and stared down at her. Her hair was plastered to her forehead, other strands going wildly askew and her lips swollen and red.
He was sure that there were more beautiful women in the universe, but he couldn’t think of a single one.
“You’re beautiful,” it slipped from his lips.
Rose felt an odd tightening in her chest. “For a human?” she offered, even though he was already shaking his head.
“For you, for my Rose. Mine.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her nose.
“Yours?” she challenged but his eyes were hard.
“Yeah, got a problem with that?”
She gave a half shake of her head. “S’long as you’re mine.”
With a devilish grin he rocked his hips, causing Rose to gasp causing his own desire to start again. “I think that can be arranged.”
And he branded her with his own type of possession.