As I am a professional writer and have work to do to get paid, I have decided to deal with these thudding plot bunnies in the traditional manner - I will inflict them on others. Please see my Profile for the Challenges of the Month. Brand new August challenges have been added for your entertainment, education, and inspiration. If you'd rather do July's, instead, I'm accepting July II Challenges until the end of August or until I can't keep up, whichever. Thanks to all those who have participated thus far - I've REALLY enjoyed all the results. The new challenges will run through the end of August. Please let me know when you respond to a Challenge so I can read and review.
A/N: Special thanks to Olfactory Ventriloquism, who proofread this for me and Sam, who titled it.
Bound and Determined
The Doctor was having a bad morning, and it was going to get much worse if Rose didn't rescue him soon. He was not in the mood to be executed in two hours, thanks ever so, and he was rather convinced he wasn't dressed for it.
Actually, maybe Rose rescuing him would be a bad idea.
Most of this was completely typical for them. He and Rose had been kidnapped by aliens, but that happened to them with an astonishing regularity. They had been mistaken for a famously wealthy couple and were going to be held for ransom, but that was also stultifyingly normal.
Especially the bit about being a couple, which might ought to have bothered him.
It didn't, it never had.
The cell he was being held in was positively exquisite, but he would have expected no less from the Zigrik Thieves' Guild. They were professionals to the last detail, and their ships were ornate and beautiful little floating palaces. If he and Rose had been who they were believed to be, they would have been kept in extreme comfort for the time it took their ransom (always a completely reasonable sum) to be paid, waited on hand and foot, their every need and most of their desires seen to immediately. They would have been returned to their ship and sent off with outrageously rare gifts of gratitude from the Guild Captain.
Kidnapping by the Zigrik Thieves' Guild was considered proof that you were "somebody" in the local social circles. Stays on their ships had higher ratings than quite a few of the nicest chain hotels and holiday destinations in the entire constellation.
All in all, it was a bloody mad system, but for some reason, it worked.
Unfortunately, they had discovered very quickly that the Doctor and Rose were not who they were expected to be. They took her away for questioning and, while they got nothing out of her but their names, they looked him up.
Thus, they discovered he was worth a lot more to them than any round dozen famously wealthy couples could be. It was sort of gratifying, if a little annoying, to discover the size of the various bounties on his head.
They had decided to auction him off to the highest bidder. To that end, they had also set about "disarming" him. About three minutes and thirty-six random objects into the customary "empty your pockets" gag, alerts had sounded all over the ship. Rose had escaped.
The Captain had addressed her on the ship-wide comm, informing her that unless she turned herself in, he would be forced to execute the Doctor. It would be no loss to the Captain, really, as some of the highest original offers were for his corpse, variously dismembered.
He had snatched up the sonic screwdriver, grinning with pride and delight, prepared to follow suit, find Rose, and get the hell out of here. Him, however, they were ready for.
Damn the extensive documentation, anyway.
They were too clever by half, these Zigrik Thieves. They'd realized pretty quickly that he could have anything stashed in any of his bottomless pockets, and they would never know until it was too late, until he had gotten loose. They had somehow gotten the idea that he would manage to turn the whole scenario on its ear, capturing them and his potential buyers, making the lot of them abjectly miserable, and managing to get quite a few of them pretty much killed.
What could he say, it was the sort of thing that happened with him around.
So now, here he was, bound in laser manacles to the wall of his formerly cozy cell, hoping against hope that Rose managed to escape recapture, and trying to decide if he wished she would rescue him or not. He was desperately missing his leather jacket.
And his trousers.
Actually, he wanted all his damn clothes back and he wanted them now.
He'd tried to pull the lower body temperature card, but they'd simply warmed up the cell slightly. He'd tried faking up any number of distractions, but they always had someone right there beside his cell, watching him as intently as Rickey the idiot watched the match. He'd cajoled, complained, and finally threatened. He'd cursed them all and declared this whole scenario beneath a Time Lord's dignity. They'd very cheerfully agreed with him. He'd even gone so far as to drop all the shields between them and the Oncoming Storm in his eyes. All that had gotten him was the laser manacles, which bound his hands together and put him on a six foot leash.
Alarms erupted again. "You might've at least left me my pants!" he shouted at the retreating guards. The final one, as always, stayed with him. "Anything?" he asked.
The guard ignored him exactly like he was a program on tele, watching him, but not really paying attention, only mildly interested. That was more than a little insulting.
The alarms cut out again, and the Doctor struggled, now worried for Rose. If she was hurt or in trouble, these manacles and this cell would never hold him.
The guard turned away from him as the door opened behind him. A very familiar form came charging through, fired off two rounds with a stun staser, and watched with satisfaction as the guard collapsed. Then, he dragged the guard to the other side of the control partition, and the Doctor couldn't see what was happening.
The Doctor blinked in confusion. They'd been separated from Jack when they'd been kidnapped, so how in the hell was he here now?
Rose came in behind Jack, smiling quite serenely. "Thanks, Captain," she said kindly. "I think I can take it from here." She disappeared behind the partition, without even once looking his way to see if he was alive. The Doctor ground his teeth together and made a mental note to put Jack out on the next asteroid he could find.
"All right, ma'am," Jack agreed in an unbelievably polite tone of voice. "I'll just take this one, too, and call in the reinforcements for the auction."
"Fantastic," she said.
The door opened again, Jack reappeared and disappeared, dragging the guard behind him. The door closed one last time and he was gone.
"Doctor?" Rose called.
"Yeah, still here," he answered, quite a bit more tartly than he really wanted to be. "How'd Jack get here?"
"Time Agency Shuttle," she answered absently. He still couldn't see her.
"What??" he demanded.
"That wasn't our Jack. He even answers to Jack, but he's not Jack." She muttered something that he suspected might be a swear word.
"Oh," the Doctor said, and moved his wrist to awkwardly scratch his nose. "Huh, must be in those missing years."
"Yeah," she agreed. "I thought he was Jack at first, so I called him that, but then I saw the uniform, and realized. Gave him the psychic paper, good thing I had it on me, did better this time." She swore again and this time he understood it.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Yeah, fine. Anyway, Jack saw on the paper that I was an undercover agent on this mission, so I told him about the auction being for a Time Lord, which all Time Agents know there's no such thing as Time Lords."
He could imagine her tongue poking out through her grin over that last. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Now was definitely not the time to dwell on Rose's attractive mannerisms. "So you told him what?"
"Well, he'd been sent to round this lot up any way because he got a tip they were selling fake Vortex Manipulators, so he believed me. I told him to get reinforcements and round up the buyers, and take charge on that bit. He'll get the credit for discovering it and if he mentions me, they'll probably just think I'm from the future or something."
The Doctor grinned. So clever, his Rose. "Fantastic!"
"Thanks," she said, and then swore again. "Doctor, do you know which control operates that effing cell!? I've tried half of them and they're not working."
"D'you see a blue button on the console?"
"Yeah? That it?"
"No, don't touch that one. But if you look to the left of it, you should see a row of small red ones. Third one down should open this cell."
She counted and then the force shield between him and the rest of the room sparkled and collapsed. "Did it work?" she asked, still sounding worried.
"Yeah," he said. "But hang on a mo. D'you see my jacket?"
"No," she answered. "Don't worry about it, we'll find it as soon as we've got you free."
She came bounding around the controls, smiling excitedly. He dropped into a crouch, and hoped to any gods there might be that his bound hands could protect whatever scraps might be left of his dignity. Her hair was in a bit of a disarray and the little hoodie she had been wearing earlier was missing. Her tank top was form fitting and pale against her fair skin. Her eyes were shining with delight and mischief.
She was so beautiful. He just wanted to hug her tight and hold her close. He remembered how her hair felt as he buried his face in it, how sweetly it smelled. He imagined how she would...
"Oh," she said, as soon as she realized what she was looking at.
"Yeah, oh," he agreed sheepishly. He shot her his best daft grin because there really wasn't anything else he could do, bound and naked Time Lord that he was.
"Oh, wow," she added.
"What's wow?" he wanted to know.
She giggled and blushed a violent crimson. "I've had this dream before," she said, so softly he almost wouldn't have believed he'd heard her, if it wasn't for the way she was suddenly staring, guiltily, at her feet.
"Rose?" he asked.
She looked up at him and there was something in her eyes that he couldn't believe he was seeing. Oh, but this put the whole dancing conversation completely to shame, just a small, bright glint that instantaneously set all his senses on high alert. He couldn't have said a word if he wanted to do. His mouth was dry, his throat too tight, his hearts pounding a harsh, staccato rhythm in his chest.
He took a deep breath. It didn't help, so he forced a second one. "Rose," he said again, and it really seemed to be all there was to say.
"Yes, Doctor?" she said again, and this time... oh, her voice, like that... His name on her lips sounded like sin and dark promises.
He thought he'd only just convinced her he was even a male of any species. Every nerve was screaming that he was misinterpreting something, some vagary of human body language that he was definitely getting wrong. Rose was sweet, innocent, pure, there was no way she was really looking at him like... like that.
She licked her lip. He bit his, the only way to stop the involuntary noise that tried to escape his chest. She took a step closer. He struggled with the manacles.
"Stop," she ordered. "You'll hurt yourself."
He was bound to a wall, naked and helpless, and Rose was telling him what to do.
He'd had this dream before, too.
He watched her, couldn't have taken his eyes off her if his life had depended on it. It was far, far too late to defend his modesty and it was getting too late to defend his innocence where she was concerned. His thoughts had never been exactly pure and they certainly weren't trying to become that way now.
She was moving toward him, slowly, hesitantly, her steps soft but unsure. As he continued to stare at her, unmoving, as he kept his watchful gaze locked on her shining eyes, she seemed to gain more confidence. Her eyes blazed to dark and glorious life as she stopped just outside the original confines of his cell, her gaze flickering over the Thieves' former prisoner, now hers, bound more surely by that hearts-stopping expression than he was by the manacles. He could sense her heart fluttering and racing in her chest, could smell a fragrance on the purified air that every single ounce of prior knowledge insisted was human arousal.
The awkward position he was in was starting to get a bit uncomfortable but he didn't dare move. Just the possibility... "Rose," he whispered again.
She gave a startled flinch, blushed, then looked away. "Sorry," she breathed. "Just..."
"How do I get you free?" she murmured.
"Oh," he said. "Right. Erm... Control panel again. Erm... buttons to the left of the red ones, should be green. That'll at least get rid of this damned lead and then I'll come look for the manacle controls."
"And your pants?" she asked, a cheeky grin on her face, her tongue poking out through her teeth.
All right, if she wanted to play it that way. "Why?" he asked, grinning broadly back at her, daring her to do something, anything, he couldn't care less what.
Well, sauntering back to the controls wasn't one of the things on the list, actually, come to think of it, even if she was going to walk like that. Her hips swayed like the open ocean, luring him, a weary sailor, to his doom. He struggled with the manacles again, chuffing in frustration, moving to stand.
Rose shot him a look over her shoulder just as he managed to get back to his feet. Her eyes widened, went huge, went pitch black.
The sight of her like that hit him like the fires of regeneration. Pure, unadulterated lust went rocketing through his veins, helped along splendidly by the dual cardiovascular system pumping his blood through his body at break-neck speed. It had a singular and specific destination, his circulation, and all possible excuses went up in the flames in her eyes.
She was at his side like she'd been teleported, and then her lips were covering his and he was thrusting his tongue between them, plundering the treasure of her kiss. His bound hands maneuvered carefully, straining against the manacles, desperate to get his fingertips in her hair, to control the kiss, to keep her this close always.
She broke away from his mouth, gasping, and he swore quietly and melodiously as the bindings cut into his skin. "Is that for me?" she asked coyly, and jerked her denim clad hips against his.
The Doctor was struck absolutely speechless, and his answer translated, in pretty much any language, as "guh". She chuckled wickedly and, apparently just to watch his reaction, rubbed her body against his again. His eyes squeezed closed - please let this be real - then flew open again when her hot human hands brushed fire across his chest.
"How long has this been going on?" she murmured against his lips.
He didn't dare answer that. Her small hand snaked between their bodies and seized his throbbing shaft. She stroked him gently and he murmured incoherent sounds that might have been praises or pleas. Five billion languages and he had no idea what to say. If this was a dream, if he woke now, he would probably die. And if she walked away, he would definitely die.
"Nothing to say?" Her eyes sparkled and danced and he was on fire with need, for her body, for her spirit, for Rose. Her hand left him then and she backed away, smirking at him. He jerked against his bindings; he needed to touch her, he couldn't tell her, he needed her to understand.
"Rose," he whimpered. It was the most wonderful word he knew, because it was hers, her name, his salvation, his solace.
"Yes, Doctor?" she said again, sultry laughter in the way she said his name this time.
"You're enjoying this," he muttered as he felt a blush stain his ears and his cheeks. He was rather impressed by that, as he'd begun to suspect all his blood was occupied elsewhere. Certainly, it wasn't operating his brain at the moment.
"Not as much as you are," she replied, and trailed a single finger up his length just to emphasize her point.
His sex jerked and he struggled against the manacles again, swearing a long string of untranslated alien oaths. "Let me outta these things and I'll fix that."
"Oh, no," she murmured against his ear. "Not a chance. I've got you right where I want you and you're staying there 'til I'm done with you."
If he'd thought he couldn't get more aroused, she'd just cleared that up. He met her eyes and smiled shyly at her, reading the trepidation as well as the arousal in her dazed and dreamy gaze. "As you wish," he assented, and watched the nervousness dissolve into delighted, wordless hunger.
Their lips crashed together again, and her arms twined round his neck, her fingers teasing the back of his short, dark hair. He had to bend to kiss her like this, but that was fine. What wasn't fine was being bound, frustrating his desire to touch her skin as thoroughly as she was exploring his. The manacles bit into his wrists as he tried everything to get even a fingertip onto her body.
"No, no," Rose said, and backed away again. He growled, the sound a bit surprising to him because he hadn't been aware before that he could make it. She laughed, low and husky, and pulled her tank top off over her head. "Don't struggle," she ordered softly. "I want you to enjoy yourself."
If anyone had ever told the Doctor, ever, that his sweet Rose was into bondage, he'd have hit them in the face. And possibly left a pair of handcuffs lying conspicuously on the console. But he wouldn't have believed it.
He'd never doubt it again. Still would hit someone in the face for suggesting it, but that's because it would be their secret.
She reached behind her and unclasped her lacy little bra and he whispered a soft word of approval and longing. She leaned back a bit, letting out a contented little sigh as he looked his fill. Her dusky pink nipples pearled and she raised a hand to tease them.
He whimpered wordless protest. He wanted to touch her, needed to touch her. He pinned her with his eyes, summoning, insisting, pleading. Trapped and compelled by his gaze, she came closer and he lowered his mouth to her throat. If he couldn't touch her with his hands, his lips at least would worship her. He traced her collarbone, bending lower, moving his bound wrists up to one shoulder to keep them out of the way. Still lower and he finally caressed the perfect peak of her breast with his tongue, felt her shiver, heard her moan. She arched into him and he gasped, then nipped playfully at her nipple before soothing it with his tongue.
Frustrated fingers flexed, and he trailed tiny kisses across her cleavage to taste the other peak, sucking gently as her hips moved against him. "You're wearing too many clothes," he murmured. Denim wasn't the nicest thing to have against over-sensitive anatomy.
She apparently agreed with him, because her fingers dropped to the button of her jeans. He watched her, fascinated, unable to look away, as blue denim gave way to creamy pale skin and tiny white knickers. "Rose... this can't... I mean..."
She leaned over and kissed him again. "What is it?" she asked when she pulled away.
What was it? Oh, right. "Rose, I... if we do this, I'm not gonna want to stop."
"Oh," she said. Then, she beamed at him. "Oh, good."
"Fantastic!" he proclaimed, and it really, really was. There was nothing between them now, but the air and a bit of lace. She closed the distance and then there was nothing but the lace and heat and kissing her. Her hips rocked rhythmically against him, and the noises she made, the noises he made, went beyond language into an ancient music that was all about desire and burning, aching want.
His legs could hardly support him, so he sank back into the wall, then dropped to his knees on the soft floor, resting his head against her thighs. She looked down at him, smiling tenderly, fondly. He traced his tongue along the waist band of her knickers, smirking as she writhed against him, whispering encouragement. Then her fingers traced a spot behind his ear and he lost himself again, whimpering her name against her skin, and tugging at her knickers with his teeth.
"Want some help with that?" she murmured.
"Please," he said.
Her eyes darkened again and she slid out of the bit of lace, removing the last obstacle. He jerked against the manacles again. All right, all but one obstacle. She gazed down at him and he was lost in her eyes. "You're so beautiful," he told her sincerely.
She smiled softly. "You are, too," she assured him.
He inhaled deeply, really needed to tell her everything that was on his mind, but the fragrance of her arousal hit him and then there wasn't anything on his mind, nothing at all, except getting closer to her, touching her, tasting her. She was slippery and hot in that secret place where her thighs met, all petal soft and spicy musk. He teased her with his tongue, probing the engorged bundle of nerves, and earned a low cry of his name for his efforts.
Couldn't touch her, didn't want to hurt her, had to be careful, but she was so delicious, all hot and human and trembling with want for him.
She gave a casual, gentle shove to his shoulder and he fell back to look up at her, couldn't hide the longing in his gaze, didn't bother to try. "I want you," the Doctor whispered. "Please, Rose..."
She chewed at her lower lip and nodded, fire in her eyes, lust in her smile and in her scent and in her taste as she leaned down to kiss him. He moved carefully, didn't want to break the kiss, didn't ever want to stop, not ever.
She dropped to her knees and then she was straddling him, the slick heat of her sex rubbing against his rigid shaft, pulling a low cry of formless longing from somewhere deep inside him. Then she reached between them, setting him exactly where she wanted him, and sank down onto him with slowness that was agonizing and exquisite.
So sweet, so tight, so very, very hot; he closed his eyes, savoring the sensation that narrowed his perception down to nothing but heat and time and Rose. Her eyes widened and she kissed him fiercely, all tongue and teeth and gasps as he fought himself to keep his hips still. Her hands were everywhere at once, her lips following, and she rocked against him gently for a moment, getting used to the feeling.
She raised her body and he arched to meet her, whispering and moaning her name like a chanted prayer. He ached to touch her like she was touching him, raised his hips to meet her every downward thrust, telling her in guttural words she probably didn't understand every wicked and wanton thing he would do to her the instant he got free of the lasers that bound him.
She threw her head back and arched her spine and rode him relentlessly, the very picture of sensuality as her fingers lowered to touch herself. Internal muscles pulsed around him as he buried himself and all his emptiness inside the heat of her body.
She clutched at his shoulders and held on tight, tucked her head into his neck, her teeth sinking into hard muscle. One more deep thrust and she flew apart, coming hard, crying his name against his skin. The wave of her orgasm took him with her; as her internal muscles clenched around him, he arched up into her again and spent himself deep within her, sobbing her name and his devotion in words he never spoke.
She trembled and he brought his arms around her, smirking at the look of startled confusion she shot him when he tangled a hand into her hair. He soothed her and cradled her against him. He pulled his hands free and twisted his wrists, noting that he'd definitely have marks.
Rose kissed his shoulder and he hissed in surprise. Marked there, too, looked like. He grinned. "Are you all right?" he murmured. "I didn't hurt you?"
"'Course not," she answered, and raised her head to look at him, rolling her eyes a little. "I ought to be asking that. Are you gonna go all angsty on me now?"
"No." He shuddered a little as he withdrew from her body, then kissed her, firmly and gently and with every intention of doing it again every single time he got a chance.
"How'd you get loose?" she wondered after a few moments.
He chuckled. Always curious, his Rose. "Temporal energy burst. Interrupted the lasers."
"Oh," she said. "Does that... I mean..."
He nodded gravely. "I'll show you later," he promised, letting her see in his eyes that he would show her everything.
She giggled. "You can show me now if you want."
He grinned. "Well, all right, then," he said. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
Jack looked in some surprise at the little ship that was coming down neatly on the nearest landing strip. Whoever the pilot was, he was brilliant (or mad), because those little things hadn't really been designed for pinpoint accuracy. You usually needed a clear mile of runway to set one down, but this one touched and stopped still less than a second later.
Jack had had a long and busy day, but he was starting to wonder if his companions had decided to completely vanish. He needn't have wondered for very long, though, because the doors on the little vessel he'd been watching burst open and Rose ran out, followed by the Doctor, and then by a half a dozen Zigrik Thieves. What in the hell had they done this time?
"Jack!" the Doctor shouted as soon as he spied him, "where the hell have you been?"
Jack had been very busy. First, he'd had to dodge a younger version of himself, then he'd run into a gang of Zigrik Thieves, and then he'd got the best idea. "All over the place!" Jack shouted back. "Where are we going?"
"TARDIS," the Doctor said, caught Rose by the waist, and pushed her up the hill toward him. Jack caught her, and couldn't help but notice that her hoodie was missing, her jeans rumpled, and her shirt inside out. As she moved to dodge around him, he also couldn't help but notice that her bra was completely absent.
The Doctor, as he scrambled up the hill, looked like hell. Jack reached a hand to jerk him up the rest of the way, and realized that the Time Lord's wrists were marked up badly, as if he'd been restrained or cuffed.
He also realized that the Doctor's jumper was gone. OK, this was something completely different.
Or something completely brilliant.
They were running then, the Thieves close behind them, and Jack noticed that Rose seemed to be moving a bit oddly. Also, the usual way the Doctor's eyes always followed her possessively had been modified. If anything, that dark blue, intense gaze had gotten more intensive. It was a wonder he didn't burn the clothes slap off of her.
They reached the TARDIS, Jack unlocked the door, Rose darted inside, then collapsed to her knees and swore colorfully. The Doctor touched her shoulder delicately. "You all right?" he asked, as Jack shoved the doors closed and locked them.
"Yeah," she said, then shot him a cheeky grin. "Too much exercise."
That wasn't nearly the usual amount of running they did. Suspicions began to tumble through Jack's head. Could it be...
The Doctor gestured him to the console, so Jack set the dematerialization sequence as the Time Lord lifted Rose gently back to her feet. She swayed briefly, then curled into him, smiling sweetly. "I'm gonna go get a shower," she said softly.
Even if it wasn't directed at him, Jack could clearly hear the invitation in those words. She swayed sexily across the console room as the TARDIS dematerialized. The Doctor's eyes never left her, dark and blue and intent.
Jack shrugged. "What happened to you two?"
"Got kidnapped by Zigrik Thieves, rescued by a Time Agent, then more Zigrik showed up and tried to take the ship back."
"Scarily brilliant landing. Did you fly it?"
"What, you think I only know time ships?" the Doctor asked. "'Course I did, scared the hell out of them."
"Well, you look rough," Jack said. "They're not usually rude to their guests."
"Yeah, well, their guests aren't usually me," the Doctor said, shrugging vaguely, moving around the console to check the coordinates.
"Seriously, Doc," Jack said, "you look like you've been rode hard and put up wet. Y'oughtta go join Rose in that shower."
The Doctor's expression, which Jack expected to be murderous, was possibly the most brilliant thing Jack had ever seen in his entire life. The Time Lord threw his head back and laughed, genuinely and happily. It was music to the ex-Time Agent's ears.
When he stopped laughing though, he grinned at Jack and shot him a cheeky wink, rubbing at his wrists. "Think I will, yeah," he said, and sauntered off with a swagger that put Jack's own to shame.
Jack waited until he was gone before leaning over the TARDIS console and whispering, "I did it."