37Finally Yielding.
Summary: Angst/Fluff PWP. Takes place a few weeks after Journey's End. "He didn't deserve this, her with a broken and confused heart. Because it was confused. There was no denying that. If she was honest, and she was trying to be, she knew she loved him. How could she not?" Rose/10th Doctor.
Rating: M. For Mmmm, yummy sex with the Doctor. Be kind! It's my first PWP.
Disclaimer: Alas, Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. I claim no ownership, and make no money.
Rose knew something had to give. He wasn't the Doctor, not really. No TARDIS, no sonic screwdriver, or psychic paper. Not a full Time Lord, with all the allure and mystery that implied. Only one heart beat within his chest, when she had felt two against her when they hugged. She had spent so much time fighting to get the Doctor back. So much hard work to get back to her universe. For so long every thought of the future, of everything she wanted, was of him. Her whole brain was hardwired to a few thoughts, 'Find him and the TARDIS, grab hold, and never let go."
So this was not easy. This was not what she had hoped for. Back here on this Earth that wasn't hers. It broke a part of her to watch him get back in the TARDIS and leave her, on purpose. No man at her back, confusing as he may be, could wipe the sight of that from her, and it ripped through her.
What did she love about the Doctor? When she thought of him, emotion burned through her, enveloping everything. She loved every little minute detail of him. His playful nature. His darker side. His painful past. His inherent loneliness, that she ached to keep at bay. His blinding smile. His smell. His ridiculous but perfect hair. The glasses, the suit, and that jacket. His cocky intelligence and cleverness. They way his tongue would taste everything. His passion, and his fury. The feel of her hand in his as they ran. The laughs as they dashed through the TARDIS doors. His dark eyes, especially if they were looking at her.
She would have spent her life trying to get back to him; instead it had taken a few years and the resources of Torchwood on this world.
And he had given her a copy and a job, refused to give her the words she so desperately needed, and got back on that damned machine and left her behind.
What actually hurt the most, if she thought about it, was that she knew WHY. She knew that he would have taken her, would have said the words, if not for the copy. Well, that wasn't terribly truthful, if she was honest. She knew what he knew, that he would have taken her, they would have experienced bliss like no other, been blinding happy for a few years or decades, and either time or circumstance would have separated them, and he would be alone again. She would have done it without hesitation, knowing all it entailed, because she could not live without him. And he would have done it too; she saw that in his eyes.
He left for her, and maybe a little for him. He was the Doctor, and giving in to love was not something he did well. He could leave her now, deny that blissful but painful future, because he had something else to give her. Himself, as a human. He saw it as her happiness, her chance at a normal life.
Fucking bastard.
Normal? Like she craved normal? It was quite simple, what she craved. HIM! She craved that lonely man like nothing else. She craved keeping that loneliness away, if even only for her own lifetime. And he had left her, for what he thought was her future, and went back to his life without her. To spend eons alone, with random other people who were not her, who would not touch that seed of isolation within him. And that broke her heart all over again, that knowledge that she could not be what he needed. That in the end, her promises of forever had meant nothing, and she was no longer with him.
A tear escaped, rolling down her cheek, thinking of his future. Wiping it away, she tried to calm herself down, staring out at the sunset. She was on her balcony, in her flat in London, not far from Torchwood tower. She was paid well, and it was a lovely flat, but she had spent little time in it, and even less out on this balcony. But now she seemed to live out here. Because HE was in there. This space gave her a chance to breathe, and think, away from that confusing man living with her.
It had been weeks, since that final goodbye. And it seemed as if they had fallen in to old patterns. She had taken his hand and led him into her life, and he had been content to go. They fit together like a puzzle, like pieces meant to interconnect, and that confused her a great deal. He never pushed, never asked for more, never referenced the kiss when he had bent to her ear and whispered his love.
He was just, himself. Smiling and cheeky and gorgeous. And sometimes serious and dark and wrapped up in his own mind. He had gotten glasses, and more suits, and a brown jacket that was at once very wrong and very right, being not quite but almost the same. He came with her to work, and had taken to Torchwood like a fish to water, or more accurately like a hurricane to dry land. He had turned the place upside down and had it wrapped around his little finger before she could blink. He spent his days tinkering away, he had built himself a new screwdriver, and was saving the world as much as he always had. In the few weeks they had traveled, albeit slower than usual, and uncovered plots, and saved lives. They had just returned, and were taking a day off. She had spent most of it outside on the balcony, indulging in her own bout of being wrapped up in her own mind.
She felt a little guilty at that. He didn't deserve this, her with a broken and confused heart. Because it was confused. There was no denying that. If she was honest, and she was trying to be, she knew she loved him. How could she not? He was a regenerated copy, but he was also a living being. A being who had his face, laugh, nature, and intelligence. A man who made jokes about his new half human side, who seemed to delight, with a sneer in his voice, all those little differences. Who still made her heart pound.
And after years of coming back to this flat alone, dreaming of her Doctor, he was addicting. He was here, they were together, they were living and working and discovering and sharing a life. And she wanted him. Of course she did.
Some part of it still felt like a betrayal. Like cheating on the Doctor with someone else. Living a life that wasn't with him. And in some part of her, that rebelled and was almost sickened at the thought, wondered if her Doctor had been right. If this was a path to her happiness. That this version of him was a reward.
Growing old together. Living a life. Children. Marriage. Promises that could be kept. Single lifetimes spent in each other's arms. It appalled her how appealing these thoughts were. How wrong and how right they were.
Was it betrayal? She would have spent her whole life with that man on the TARDIS, and not felt it wasted, have not wished for anything else. Dying of old age, while he still looked 30, or possibly looked completely different. Maybe he would have regenerated older looking, and it wouldn't have been that bad. She would have lived that life, either way. And now it wasn't even an option.
She felt like the proverbial horse with a carrot dangling in front of it. She couldn't have that life. But behold! This man who was everything you loved, but could now be human with you, but whom was also lacking some of the things she loved. Like those double hearts. And that isolation that she kept at bay.
So, this had to be different. She knew that something in her had to give. Either she kept this version at arms length, and spent her life in love with a man she probably would never see again. Or she acknowledged this man, and this future, and gave in. And give him everything. At that thought she sighed, or was it moaned, and felt herself begin to burn. Everything.
It was all extremely confusing. How could it be betrayal? It was him! But it wasn't him, and it did feel like she was giving up on the Doctor, and that was something she could never do. Did she just have to live with this love in her heart forever? All her life, would she ache for that man exploring the universe? She knew she would.
And that would have to be her lot. She knew her love for the Doctor would never die, it would be a part of her. But she liked to think there was no end to her love. It certainly seemed that her love for the Doctor was so vast it was endless, certainly she was capable of loving more. That she could love them both. That her loves could overlap and intersect, and feed off each other and grow. She had to believe that, or there was no hope for her.
Standing up, she gripped the rail of the balcony and felt the setting sun on her face. It warmed her. She let it. She let herself, truly for the first time of her own free will, warm with thoughts of the man inside, HER Doctor, and her life with him.
Almost as if on cue, she heard the sliding glass door open. Her heart beat a little faster.
"I hope you don't mind if I join you. I saw you stand, and the sunset looked so beautiful."
She turned and smiled at him. "Not at all, come here." And to prove her point, she reached out took his hand, pulling him to the railing.
For a moment his eyes locked on the sky, but then his dark brown eyes, lit to the warmest brown in the light, came to her face.
Rose could not break her gaze, could not look away, even if she wanted too. She was fooling herself if she thought she could keep this man at arms length. She had only managed it so far because he had let her. He was at heart still that Doctor, still a force to be reckoned with, and she loved it.
When his eyes locked with hers, his face looked passive. But a moment later his eyes widened, and he smiled at her.
For the first time, she let her heart warm her eyes, and she smiled right back. At first, the smile was small but genuine. But after a moment, she couldn't hold herself in. Her smile stretched across her face, and she caught her tongue in her teeth, looking at him darkly.
She had never smiled at him like this. She had smiled and laughed with him, sure, he generated that within her easily. But this Doctor had not seen this look before, he held it only in his memories, and she gave it to him as a sign.
His eyes darkened, eyebrows furrowing as his gaze intensified. She saw the first signs of hunger in him, and his voice lightly purred, "Rose."
She kept her smile, but quirked an eyebrow. This was fun, giving in, flirting. Her humor relaxed her body, and she let him read it in her stance.
Eyes still dark, his lips spread across his face in the wide smile that took her breath away. The hand still holding hers released to run a finger up her forearm. She felt her smile falter, and her breath caught, and she felt that first deliberate and sensual touch. His finger stroked at the crease of her elbow softly, before running back down her arm slowly where he grasped her wrist.
His head moved up to look at her face, bringing her attention back to him. They simply looked for a moment, acknowledging the tension. He slowly lifted her wrist to eye level, his thumb pressed at the base of her palm, and he looked at her and said, "Your heart is racing."
Snatching her hand away she backed up and laughingly said, "No fair reading my pulse."
He laughed, glad at her playfulness, and took a step toward her. Mischief in her eyes, she turned from him, gazing out at the sunset. Her breath caught as she realized her mistake when he came up behind her, body carefully not touching hers, just his hands reaching forward to grab the railing around her and his mouth at her ear.
"Rose." She shivered as his breath ghosted over her neck. "As much as I delight in this game, I must ask, why the change of heart?"
"It's not a change of heart."
"Rose, you know what I mean."
And she did. "It's not a change of heart." At his huff of disbelief she firmly said, "Oi, it's not! It's not at all." She paused and he waited, breath tickling her ear. "It's a release." She felt his confusion. "I just thought really hard all day, and I came to the conclusion that there was no denying that I loved you. That yes, I love him too, and I always will, but I released myself from the belief that it would always be one or the other. When obviously I love you both, the same way and also differently, and that I wanted to give you everything."
His voice was low and soft when he spoke. "Everything?"
She turned her head a little and said clearly, "Everything."
His breath escaped him quickly, and he leaned his forehead against the side of her face. "Rose, my dear Rose Tyler. I am not stupid. I knew this would be hard for you. Part of me rejoices at you saying you love us both, because I was him and I wanted your love like nothing else in the world. But we are different men now, with different futures, and I can't deny how happy it makes me to hear you say you love me. So don't worry about loving us both, I can handle that, as long as you love me. Because I love you."
Rose felt tears at her eyes and blinked fast, wishing them away. "How could I not? Seriously? It was only a matter of time. I love everything you are."
"Everything, Rose Tyler? Even this human half? One day I'll be old and wrinkly."
He saw the side of her wide smile. "I love the thought of you old and wrinkly."
He decided to really push things. "I'm not him. One heart here. Human hormones. No TARDIS. Can you deal with that?"
She laughed, "I may have loved the TARDIS, but I was not in love with the TARDIS. This is not about the gadgets." She sighed. "And I loved you when you had a completely different body, this human side is pretty easy in comparison. But let me ask you something. Can you deal with this? I've been pretty selfish here, wrapped up in myself. Can you deal with being human? One heart. No TARDIS. Stuck in place, forced in to being a little domestic? I know how much you ran from that."
He paused, and collected his thoughts. "When I was with Martha, we were forced in to hiding for 3 months. I had taken on human form, and had my memories erased. It was just me, sans Time Lord. And I remember that time clearly. I fell in love with a woman, and it was an ordinary, honest love. And I wanted to live that life. I wanted the domestics, I wanted a lifetime with her. Now, even then I had dreams of you, not knowing you were real."
"When it was over, and I went on, I thought about that time a little. I think, if I'm honest, I ran from 'domestics' because I could never have them. I think there is a part of me that wanted them so much I knew it would hurt to taste them, so I ran."
"I want you to know, that I think that is a good portion of why he left you. I think he wanted us to happen. Just as I know that somewhere out there he misses you terribly, but that some part of him is soothed by the thought of him getting a lifetime with you. With having a little bit of him get to have the domestics with you, even if he can't feel it."
Rose felt the tear run a track own her cheek.
"So, yes, Rose Tyler," His voice had turned deep and rough. "I can handle it." He nuzzled his nose into the flesh at her neck. "I'll be even more honest, I'm desperate for it. My thoughts of you were inappropriate as a Time Lord. Possessive thoughts. Lustful thoughts. Domestic thoughts involving waking up with you, lazy mornings, and breakfast. But they aren't inappropriate now." He took a breath and nipped at her neck, before sliding up and ever so slowly and lightly running his tongue along the outside of her ear.
Rose felt like she was on fire.
When he spoke she could feel his lips on her ear. "Tell me you want me."
Choked words escaped her, along with coherent thought, "All of you."
And she gasped as she felt him step closer, finally bringing the front of his body in full contact with the back of her, his chest, pelvis and thighs all fitting against her. She saw his knuckles tighten to white on the railing as he ground her pelvis forward, trapping it between the bars and his very obvious erection.
"I promise you, you have all of me." His hands found their way under her jumper, touching the soft skin of her stomach as he wrapped his arms around her, still pressing forward with his hips.
The feel of his hands, those hands on her skin made her moan, and she left her head fall backwards on to his shoulder. She had never been more aroused, more desperate for a touch than at that moment. And he obliged, his hands moving up her sides under her jumper, pausing at the bottom of her breasts. Rose thanked fate that she had decided not to wear a bra today. His fingers trailed along the seam of her mounds, before finally ghosting up and cupping them in his palms. This time they both moaned in unison. He leaned his mouth to her ear again. "Do you know how long I have wanted to do this? To feel you? Your skin? Your perfect, tempting breasts?" He ground his erection against her again. "I've imagined it hundreds of times, thousands of ways, and you always moaned like that, Rose, always."
When she felt one of his hands slide back down over her stomach, not even pausing as it met the elastic of her trousers and kickers, sliding under and in, over her mound and into her folds, immediately finding that bundle of nerves, she cried out and opened her eyes, started at the intensity of sensation. It was late, the sun long since falling below the horizon, and the last bits of purple twilight were fading. When he slowly began to move his finger in circles, while the other sought out her nipple, she moaned again, and turned her head to look in to his eyes. She was disappointed at how little she could see him in the fast approaching dark, and it was that more than propriety that made her whisper, "Inside."
His lips found hers and although it was strained to get their heads turned enough, it was absolutely perfect and beautiful and she never wanted it to end. He kept his hands moving, and soon they weren't kissing so much as Rose was moaning in to his mouth while he ground against her, both of their breaths coming in gasps.
Finally, he slowed, and he said, seemingly in agreement, "Inside." But before she knew it two fingers had slipped lower and he was running them along the seam of her, before slowly but purposefully slipping inside of her. When he pulled them out, before pushing back in, the base of his fingers rubbing against her clit, Rose wanted to scream, the pleasure was so intense. She shook with her need for him.
"So very wet, Rose. Do you want it? I want it. I want you."
She knew she couldn't form words, could only move with the purpose of being closer to him, so she twisted in his arms, his hands falling away from her. She grabbed the waist of his trousers, turning him with her as she slowly led them toward the door. His hands came around her, grasping the handle, and opening the door, on board with anything that sped this up.
They fumbled over the threshold, and she broke away from him enough to turn on the lights. She wanted to see this.
Suddenly, they were at the couch, and they knew they could make it no farther. First it was her jumper, and his eyes glued to the form of her, finally revealed to him. Then she was at his buttons. He went for the tie. When they were both unclothed from the waist up, he grabbed her hips as he fell back against the couch, encouraging her to straddle him.
Now in the light, partially unclothed, both sitting up and face-to-face, they looked. Soon, hands moved, and she felt his shoulders, his neck, and the smoothness of his skin for the first time. His hands lingered at the dip of her waist, while he eyes watched her breasts move with the gentle, unconscious rocking motion of her hips. Finally, grasping her and lowering her back, he took a nipple in to her mouth, his hands ghosting up to feel them as well. She leaned back, luxuriating in his attention, feeling his tongue send sensations through her that took her right back to that moment of furious arousal when he had entered her with his fingers. She was touching every inch of him she could reach, before lacing her fingers in that damn sexy hair and pulling him firmly to her mouth.
They kissed, desperately, thoroughly, finally. And it seemed that that was the threshold, they could take no more. She stood, eyes locked on him and smoldering, as she took off her socks. He removed his shoes as he looked at her. When her hands went to the waist of her trousers, so did his, but he paused, watching her reveal herself to him. His look melted her, and she needed him now. Her quick fingers unbuttoned him, and grasping everything, trousers, pants, she pulled. He lifted his hips, sliding down a little to where his pelvis rested on the very edge of the couch. As she watched him spring free, there was no thought, just action as she bent and took him in to her mouth. He cried out roughly, thrusting involuntarily. Not a moment later he had pulled her up, her straddling him again, and they locked eyes as she lowered herself. That feel, that pleasant burn of sensation, the stretching, and sliding and sense of coming home as he slid inside took her breath away. Her knees spread wide and his legs bent and supporting his hips off the edge of the couch, they paused.
Rose squirmed a bit, feeling every perfect inch of him, and his lust filled, wide eyes took her in. Finally, he moved, flexing down and then up. His hands found her hips, supporting her as he moved out and then back in, and they cried out. She had wanted this for so long, and so had he, and they finally let it happen, let their bodies move and flow and connect and ignite, and soon she was rising and falling just as much as he was thrusting up. Breathing came fast and hard, in rhythm with them, and she was crying and gasping and moaning above him, and he was saying her name over and over again, "Rose, Rose… Rose…"
There was nothing in the world, nothing but the feel of this man within her and she was trembling, on fire, and incoherent. Their tempo increased and when his hand slipped between to spastically touch her clit, her world narrowed to the blinding sensation, and they moved, danced, thrust, pushed, pulled, and she was moaning and yelling louder than she ever had in her entire life and she had no control as she looked at the face of the man below her, his face contorted with pleasure. He was panting, his eyes narrowed, and he looked at her, still moaning her name brokenly, "Rose… Rose…" like she was his salvation.
Electricity ran trough her veins, hot bolts of lighting, and she fell apart and exploded, fell and cried and burned. He was still below her thrusting sharply, and her orgasm went on and on and he gripped her hips and thrust again, moaning, hands gripping, and she watched him release. She had never seen anything more perfect.
They panted, and slid to the floor, coming apart, and hands bringing back together. They grasped at each other, and he began softly kissing what part of her he could reach without moving.
They lay, wrapped around each other, until their breath slowed. He wormed his way to her lips, kissing her tenderly, lovingly. "Marry me."
Only those words could move her from her stupor. "How is a girl supposed to respond to words like those at a time like this?"
He was kissing her jaw, "With a 'Yes.'"
"That's your orgasm talking."
"No, I would have asked you on that beach had you been ready. I've wanted you for almost every minute I've known you. This is me saying what I want to say. Marry me, Rose Tyler." He was kissing her throat.
She let him kiss her, feeling his words, and how she responded. There was no question, no hesitation, not anymore. "Yes… Yes, Doctor."
When his head perked up and he flashed one of his giddy, perfect smiles, she bit her tongue between her teeth, and smiled right back.
It's my first PWP, so please review!