The Memory Remains
ann no aku
Plot: Ten is plagued by memories that Nine created of him and Rose. Rose/Nine, Rose/Ten
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who
Notes: Takes place between The Age of Steel and The Idiot's Lantern.
Chapter Five: The Epiphany
"Wh-Wha'?" Had she heard correctly? Had he really been thinking of her?
"I was thinking of you, Rose," the Doctor repeated, stepping even closer to her still. "I have been for a while now."
She couldn't stop looking into his eyes and squirmed in her chair at the memory of him thinking of her. "Oh?" Anyone other than the Doctor wouldn't have been able to hear her.
"Right. Well, uh, if you'll excuse me," Rose began in a voice barely above a whisper, "I'm off to bed." Despite the Doctor being so close to her that she could feel the heat emanating from his body, Rose stood up quickly, accidentally brushing against his length. She didn't hear him groan as she left the room, nor see his fists clench and release repeatedly as if he were trying to regain control of himself.
His eyes found her abandoned, still warm mug. He had let her leave; the second time he had let her go. This time, the Doctor ignored his abhorrence of pain and actually punched the table, missing it and nearly hitting himself in the crotch instead. He was still very much aroused having not finished before.
The blood pumped hot through his veins, burning both his hearts. The uncomfortable pain gave him courage. He grabbed her mug violently, the drink spilled out and pooled on the table. How he wished it was Rose's juices staining the table, mixed with his own. Without thinking, he dipped two fingers into the spilt drink and tasted it, imagining it to be her. From his dream, the Doctor could still taste her on his tongue.
He made his way to Rose's room, a thousand ideas, thoughts, scenarios, fantasies running through his mind. They consumed him as he walked down the quiet, empty halls, making his journey unusually short and most definitely not long enough for him to gain enough moxie to enact his frustrations. Upon reaching her door, the Doctor gave a quick rap and entered without waiting for her to reply.
Rose was on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Her dressing gown was carelessly strewn on the back of a chair and her slippers looked as though she had kicked them off in a fury—one was upside down next to a cracked picture frame on the floor and the other straddled the doorway to the bathroom. At first, the Doctor wasn't sure she had registered his arrival, that is until he saw her blink curiously at him.
The Doctor neared her bed and placed her cup on the nightstand next to it. "You forgot your tea," he announced, sitting carefully on the edge of her bed. His dark eyes roamed over her body, noting (with a suppressed groan) that she was wearing the exact camisole she had worn from his fantasy two weeks prior. Her nipples were pert and visible through the sheer fabric, and he tried not to breathe through his nose, denying himself the smell of her sex.
She stared at him, sensing something different about him. It was worse than in the kitchen; he looked more determined, more stressed, and infinitely more aroused. Rose had noticed the look in his eyes, had known that if she weren't to leave immediately, then she'd do something both would end up regretting. She refused to be the one to ruin their plutonic relationship, unsure how he'd take it even if he did want it. She had wanted to finish what she had started, but the Doctor interrupted her. Again.
Subconsciously, Rose writhed under the scrutiny of his gaze, feeling wetter and wanting him even more. She gasped as his cool fingers trailed up her knee and stopped just inches from her center, resting on her right thigh. She gaped at him, her heart thundering loudly in her chest. His other hand followed in suit, and gently he pried her legs a few centimeters apart, his eyes not once leaving hers. Much to both their surprise, Rose allowed it all, instead curling her fingers, which were by her head, into the duvet and leaning heavily into her pillows.
"You have been plaguing my dreams for a long time, Miss Tyler," he said, caressing the edge of her knickers as he spoke. "Your smell, your clothes."
She arched her back against his touch, silently willing him to reach further. Part of her couldn't believe that he was actually there, his hands on her. "I-I saw you," she choked out, quivering under the feel of his cool fingertips. Rose wasn't sure what made her tell him; perhaps she wanted it to be an excuse for her behavior.
At first, the Doctor hadn't thought she had caught him at all. But the two weeks after that strange day before Mickey had called, he hadn't smelled her like had had that one night. Bits of him had known she saw—her sweet scent had filled him that night, had helped make the memory of the dream so much more realistic. And never again had he had one like that, and never again had Rose seemed so flustered to see him—until tonight.
It was erotic knowing she had seen him, that it had made her want him. But what he couldn't figure out was why she hadn't done anything about it. Why hadn't she made the first move?
"I could smell you," the Doctor answered in response to her look of confusion. At that, he leaned in close to her, his nose a hair from her thighs. He saw her lick her lips in anticipation, desperately wishing for him to taste her.
He swallowed hard and leaned back. If he wasn't careful, he'd be sure to come too early, and he was still worked up from his dream and the after effects. The Doctor didn't miss the flicker of hurt and rejection on her face, nor her trying to close the distance between her legs, but his light touch held firm. Slowly, he slipped a finger under her knickers and gently tugged, coaxing her to pull them down to her feet. His breath hitched in his throat as he feasted his gaze upon her, and the Doctor had to resist the urge to rip open his trousers and fuck her wild.
"What were you thinkin' 'bout me?" she bravely asked, her voice trembling as he drew circles on her legs.
Rose tried to sit up, only to be pushed back down by him. The deliberation of his caress drove her crazy, and his slow, careful responses infuriated her. For weeks, she'd been the slave to her vision with no outlet, save herself. Now that he was in her room, touching her, undressing her, she thought she deserved a bit more than his torturous tease. "Well?" she prompted when he didn't respond.
Again, his eyes found hers, breaking their contact with her exposed flesh. The Doctor kissed her urgently, his hands squeezing her thighs. She squirmed under his touch and kissed him back, matching his need. Rose's nails tore through his hair, pulling his face even closer to hers. His body gracefully lurched forward under the weight of her strength, and the Doctor pinned her to the bed with this legs. Their tongues danced and battled for dominance, savoring in the flavor of each other's mouth. He nibbled on her lower lip, groaning into her mouth as she gasped. The Doctor settled himself on top of Rose, straddling her waist and pressing his erection deeper into her. Harder, she tugged on his hair, panting between the breaths of their kiss. Her head swam in delight and delirium, not quite believing that the Doctor wasn't another fantasy. His hands gripped her trembling shoulders, trying to steady both himself and her. He wanted her, needed her too much.
Never in all his nine hundred years had the Doctor felt so ruled by his emotions, especially one as basic as lust, not even to the mother of his children. His ever-so-logical mind attributed it to Rose's contagious humanity, refusing to accept that he could love again, want again. Yet, as Rose Tyler continued to consume him, rubbed her damp thighs together, gasped nonsensical words into his kiss, logic was backing down. He knew she loved him, could feel it in her words and stares, but feared it more than anything. He wasn't ready. Even as he gave in to the tension and frustration he'd had since meeting the child, his hearts felt ready to burst with surges of feeling so overwhelming, so fundamental, and so very full of love. He may not be able to vociferate it quite yet, but the Doctor had to admit it was there.
The epiphany forced him to break the kiss, his lips protested and he noticed that Rose didn't seem pleased either. The Doctor needed to slow down; for a Time Lord, recognizing and committing acts of love were the most powerful actions they could ever do. His dreams hadn't prepared him for this. It had been too much to consider. Instead, he brushed his fingertips all along her skin, feeling her tremble and shiver in anticipation. The ever faithful and trusting companion she was, Rose didn't ask any questions. She let him explore her.
He started at her temple after moving off her and followed the invisible pulse of her blood. He felt it flow beneath his light caress, wanting nothing more than to feel it hotter and faster as he'd make her come. His touch stopped between her legs, pausing to discover for the source of her heat. His fingers teased her folds, slipping inside for mere seconds at a time. All the while of his touch, his eyes had followed yet now they searched her face, silently asking permission.
Somehow, Rose managed a weak nod and forgot to breathe as she watched him position his head between her thighs. At first, he just looked at her, making her blush and slightly embarrassed. But she trusted him and let him continue. Part of her wanted to yell at him, beg him to stop his games and fuck her. However, the change in his expression after their kiss had made her feel something, feel him as though they were suddenly connected. Rose only wished to make him happy, to feel his adoration and elation. As he looked at her, Rose could share in everything he felt, making her feel like the most beautiful and perfect person in the universe.
"You are," the Doctor whispered against her, his cool breath seducing her sensitive flesh. His hands held loosely on her lips, his thumbs drew circles on the bone. He breathed in her scent, devouring in the smell of her. In a language Rose presumed to be Gallifreyan, he groaned, finally tasting her.
His tongue teased her, danced deep within in. He used only his mouth, sucking her clit, lapping away at her as though she possessed the most delicious flavor he had ever partaken in. The Doctor sensed her build up and relished in it, burying himself further between her legs. "Come for me. I want to feel it, taste it." He nearly came as she did, sharing in her orgasm. She had cried out his name and now whimpered into her pillow, loosening her grip on the sheets.
Rose's eyes were closed, but she opened them as she felt him studying her. Brown met brown, and both temporarily lost themselves in the depths. While keeping his gaze on her, the Doctor peeled off his t-shirt, hating that for the briefest of moments he had to break contact to toss his shirt over his head. He saw her gulp and try to memorize every visible inch of him, drinking in the sight before her. She, too, removed her shirt, fully baring herself for him to see. Her nipples were pert and her body seemed to emit a sort of golden pink glow. The Doctor had never seen her more beautiful.
Again their mouths met, crushing blindly and urgently. His hands caressed her, everything they could reach and pulled her up to a sitting position; she sat astride his lap. Their hips ground against each other, the Doctor's length rubbing uncomfortably with his pinstripe trousers. He held her lower back, squeezing her to him as he took a nipple between his lips. She clutched at his arms, her head tossed back in ecstasy as his tongue licked, teeth nipped. Everything he did to her, Rose could feel through her own body and him. It was her breast in her mouth, her need pressing against her own sex. The Doctor's thoughts were echoed through her, into her, and Rose knew that being with anyone else would never be the same.
She felt his love for her as his kisses made a trail up her neck and along her jaw, and Rose's heart clenched with relief at finally being granted her wish. The Doctor laid her back down, watching her carefully as he fumbled to remove the last bit of fabric between them. He kicked off his trousers then joined her. They entwined their bodies together, kissing, touching, and committing it all to memory. She found his cock and stroked it, feeling the pearl of hot wetness at the tip. He groaned and involuntarily bucked into her hand.
"Rose," he begged into her neck. "I can't. Please." Without waiting for her to respond, the Doctor flipped so that he was on his back and her on top of him. "Too much," he nuzzled her breasts, held her harder against his length. "I need you too much."
She squirmed above him, desperate to feel him fill her. Rose gasped as he picked her up with surprising strength and slowly brought her down on him. He stretched her, but felt delicious. Neither moved, both lost in the initial sensation. The Doctor held her hips and started to slide her along him, controlling every move. She was wet and tight; her warmth encircled him, heated his own blood.
Leaning over, Rose took both his hand and hers, freely gyrating her hips. She kissed him, his eyelids, nose, forehead, temples, everything until her lips found his. The Doctor thrust against her, urgently, hissing out more low cries in Gallifreyan. He was close, and much too soon. The moment he felt it, he could feel Rose realizing it, bring her to the brink as well.
Roughly they kissed, fighting for every breath and taste. He bruised her lips, bit them, bathed them in apologetic nips before starting all over again. She battled him, nibbling his tongue, lips, moaning soundlessly. As their pace increased, the kiss ended, both too caught up to do anything but feel. Their minds connected more intensely, wrapped around each other. They were as one entity, one emotion.
With an animalistic cry, the Doctor came, releasing deep within Rose. At the same time, she did, too, clenching around him, calling out his true name. Hearing it from her lips, in her voice, burned inside of him something he hadn't felt in centuries—a sense of belonging.
Exhausted from the overwhelming surge of their combined feelings, Rose collapsed tiredly on top of him, reveling in the sound of his hearts thundering. The Doctor stroked her hair lazily, absently, still lost in her exclamation. He pressed his lips to her fingers, which had been curled atop his chest.
"You said my name," he said into her hair.
"Yeah," she managed to gasp after a minute of still trying to catch her breath. "'s beautiful." Rose propped her chin on her hand, her elbow digging into him. "Is it always . . .like that?"
"Yep. Our minds are connected now. Everything you feel, I feel." He smiled at the look of wonder on her face. "Thank you, Rose Tyler."
"For what?" she laughed, listening again to his hearts.
He didn't reply immediately, couldn't. Instead, he waited until her breathing became shallow and she fell asleep. But even then, he couldn't bring himself to say how he felt. She knew, and that was all that mattered.
I hope you enjoyed this story. Please review if you did. Thank you for reading!
~ann no aku