Title: Human Hang-Ups (1/1) (part of the Glimpses series)
Genre: AU, romance, smut
Summary: Humans and Time Lords have different feelings on certain things.
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.
Author's Notes: to JennyLD for the beta.
Rose squirmed as the Doctor kissed his way down her chest, paying close attention to each breast, carefully nipping just beside her sensitive nipples. Her body was on fire for him and she was wetter than she'd been in months. Pressing her head back into the pillows, she gasped as he gently licked, then kissed, the underside of her breast.
Rubbing her legs together in anticipation, she threaded her hands into his hair as he raised her dressing gown. His lips mouthed the fabric, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to her stomach. But when he drew the thin, white material up, past her thighs, intending to raise it higher, she shifted under him and pressed it back down.
He raised his eyes to hers, puzzled. "What--"
Rolling them over quickly, she kissed him, reaching down between their bodies to grasp his cock. He was as ready as she'd ever seen him. Gown up around her hips, she sat up and took hold of him, settling over his shaft, feeling his groan of pleasure go through her.
"Been too long," he gasped, grabbing her hips and thrusting up into her. "You feel so good."
So did he. He filled her almost too deeply, too fully. She squeezed her knees around his hips, wanting to please him, wanting him to feel every gasp, every muscle clench, every twitch of her folds along his cock.
The way his hips began to buck into her, she knew she'd achieved her goal. Knew she'd distracted him enough. But as she moved faster, and her legs began to tire, she felt his hands drawing her gown up again.
Unable to stop him this time without giving him pause, she leaned forward and kissed him, letting him pull the material up, but staying plastered against him, breasts flush against his chest.
Drawing back to peer at her, the Doctor frowned. "Rose?" His hands were on her waist, the gown gathered between them.
Letting her breath out with a heavy heart, she pulled back a bit. "It's too soon," she told him, cringing under the frown he aimed her way.
"I don't just want to touch you, or feel you." He pressed a firm kiss to her jaw. "Wanna see you as well. Your body?" Pulling back a bit, he waggled his brows at her, trying to lighten the mood. "It does things to me. I love your body. I love you."
Knowing how he felt made her feel a little better, but the self-consciousness still wouldn't budge. Wouldn't let her old confidence shine through. "I love you too." Her eyes filled with tears and she impatiently brushed them away, tired of being so emotional all the time. "I'm sorry."
He shook his head, taking her face in his hands. "Don't. Please." Then, sudden as a shot, he rolled them over until he was on top, running his hands softly down her sides. "Humans and their hang-ups," he lamented.
Hating herself for it, she stopped his hands even as she arched into his strokes. "Like you haven't got any," she snorted, shoving a hand through his hair, messing it up even more than it already was.
The distraction didn't work. "It's different," he protested, leaning down to kiss her, moving faster within her. "I--" he grunted thickly, shoving both hands under her gown. "Oh, fuck. I'm vain. You're ashamed." With a sudden yank upward, he bared her to his gaze, and though she continued to move below him, delighted in his hands and eyes caressing her bare skin, he was right; she was ashamed.
It was stupid and ridiculous, and though she couldn't help feeling this way, she hated herself for it. The heat in his eyes never dimmed though, never wavered. His pace never faltered, and in fact only grew more out of control, more erratic.
"Beautiful," he groaned, pushing into her faster, making her actually feel like it under his lust-filled gaze.
Shoving aside her hang-ups, she flattened her feet against the bed and drew her legs up beside his waist. Felt her body tighten with each stroke, each grunt that escaped him, each clumsy kiss he pressed to her lips.
Arching up to meet him, she clenched her fingers in the duvet. Breasts jiggling, body shoved into the mattress, she closed her eyes and let herself go. Her bum arched up, up, higher, throwing him off his rhythm. She gasped sharply as pleasure washed over her in pulsing waves. "Doctor," she near-screamed, biting her lip to keep her voice in check.
He'd stopped as well, stopped all movement, but he wasn't done yet. Was still hard inside her. Leaning forward, he kissed her lightly, then more desperately, and she knew he was holding himself back, watching her come; he always liked watching.
One hand stroked her stomach, pressing into her flesh as he tore his lips from hers and whispered, "Don't ever stop." Then his hands were gone, he was gone, pulling back so he could thrust better. "Don't ever stop." Hands landing on the bed on either side of her, he began moving again. Harder. Faster. "Don't ever stop," he grunted over and over.
She knew he wasn't just talking about this, about making love to him, though that was there too. He liked the way she responded to him so forcefully, the way she always had done. He wanted her to never stop loving him. To never stop being with him.
"Never," she whispered, opening her eyes to see him gritting his teeth, long neck stretched back as he strained for release.
Smoothing her hands over his back, she lightly trailed her nails down his flesh. He arched his back, hissing in pleasure. His eyes were restless, darting from her face to her breasts and stomach, then closing for a few seconds.
"Rose," he gasped, pleading with her.
She clenched her muscles around him, slowly dropping her hands from him, knowing what he wanted, but still nervous about it. As he continued to move in her, she settled her hands on her breasts, cupping them, playing with them the way he liked watching her do. One hand slid toward her stomach and his eyes followed it. Pinching her nipple, hoping to draw his eyes back up to her breasts, she moaned and sucked in a breath.
Head darting down, he sucked a nipple into his mouth and she breathed a sigh of relief. Until he released it and ran a hand over her stomach, eyes on hers as he thrust a few more times.
He was close, she knew, but he looked like he was holding back for some reason.
She didn't want him to. She wanted him to come now, hard, to give himself to her. Cupping her breasts more firmly, she caressed them, pinching her nipples, but it wasn't until she slid her hand down her stomach, fingers brushing his, that she felt him jerk wildly against her, hips bucking uncontrollably into hers. He shouted her name as he came, his warm seed spurting into her in pulses, breath leaving him panting.
Holding him tight, she felt his every jerk, every breath, every whispered word as it hit the cooler hair.
And then he collapsed on her, his warm, heavy weight pressing comfortingly into her. She ran one hand through his hair, the other down his back, holding him to her, liking the feel of him on her. The way he lost control. The way he made her lose control.
But too soon, he raised his head and searched her eyes, clumsily brushing damp hair from her face. "That why you wear jimjams all the time now?"
Shrugging, she trained her gaze over his shoulder, not ready to discuss her body with him, which was stupid. She knew it, but she couldn't help it. She just didn't like the way she looked anymore.
"Rose," he sighed, kissing her forehead as he climbed off her, softened cock slipping free. His hand settled on her stomach, eyes dropping there as well, and she wanted to squirm away from him. "You think I'll stop loving you because you--"
"No," she protested, knowing that wouldn't happen. She was being irrational and she knew it. "But it's not attractive, is it?"
His brows drew together, mouth twisting wryly. "It's you, of course it's attractive. Rose, I'd find you attractive if you... if you had, I dunno, antlers." He raised his hands, fingers spread, holding them to his head, grin teasing at his lips.
Rolling her eyes, she shoved at his shoulder. "Stop it." But her lips lifted a little when he waggled his fingers.
"I'd still want you even if you were nothing but a flap of skin," he said seriously, though his eyes were dancing with humor. He dropped his hands and resumed brushing her hair back, his touches becoming tenderer with each stroke.
"Oi, knew you had a thing for Cassandra." No longer fighting her grin, she shoved at him, forcing him to the bed beside her. Climbing atop him, she settled firmly on his waist. "I was there when she kissed you, remember? You were--"
"Already well aware you weren't yourself. And I didn't kiss her back." He ran his hands up her sides, slipping them under her nightgown, rough, callused fingers sending shivers down her spine. "You could look like Jaba the Hut and I'd still want you."
A snort of laughter left her, relief pouring through her at his words. She was being silly. Stupid.
Of course the Doctor didn't mind a few extra pounds on her. Leaning down, she kissed him softly. "I sort of love you."
He opened his mouth to reply, but a small cry sounded in the next room. Dropping back to the bed in a boneless heap, he stretched his arms over his head. "If you loved me, you'd get your son this time. I had him all night while you slept." He eyed her pleadingly, giving her his wide puppy dog eyes.
Sighing, she climbed off him and lowered her gown, grumbling as she headed into their son's adjoining bedroom. "Why's he always my son when he cries, and yours when he's being clever?"