Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?
This has no beta, so all errors are mine and mine alone. Not sure about this ending, actually. Let me know what I can do to improve it.
Lately the Doctor had been conscious that his feelings for Rose were changing, mutating, evolving even. It was not that he was feeling less for her and he wasn't sure if he could feel more, but he felt it differently, more distinctly. When he had first met her, he had had a general respect for her as a living being. That respect had turned more specific when he had seen her skills first hand—her selflessness, her intuitiveness, and her intelligence. He had begun to love her in a general way when she stepped in front of that first Dalek, a lifetime ago, and now his love was going the same way.
He wanted all of her attention, as often as he could get it. He wanted to be the one to make her smile, the one to answer her questions, the one she asked for help, and the one to surprise her with all the wonderful things that the universe held. It was downright unsettling, the odd streak of possessiveness weaving its way around his brain whenever he thought of Rose. And he did think of her—a lot. Probably more than was healthy.
And she was always his Rose. And he liked to think he was her Doctor.
The problem was that Rose didn't seem to be quite on-board with this. She was still looking around, picking up strays, getting too friendly with strangers. If he had his way there would be no more Mickeys or Adams or Jack Harknesses. It would be just him and Rose. He craved a kind of coupleness that Rose, considering her human upbringing, couldn't understand. For her, exclusivity implied a host of other complicated things, like sex and marriage and procreation and having tea with her mum. None of those things were very Time Lord-esque, especially that last bit about the tea.
It certainly was a quandary, but the Doctor had been handed today a unique solution to that problem, the only difficulty being that it wasn't his most pressing problem at the moment.
"The door's closing!" Rose shouted as she sprinted a meter ahead of him. At the end of the corridor, a metal door was slowly sliding shut. Behind him, he could hear the same ominous sound of metal on metal.
"The ship's going into lockdown!" He said, skidding to a halt and slamming his palm into the door in frustration.
"What, to conserve energy?" Rose asked, pushing her hair back as she looked around the room they were—hopefully—temporarily trapped in.
He nodded absently as he switched the sonic on and tried to get the door to cooperate; it steadfastly refused. "Well, it's deadlocked, so unless we can find a way to generate some power, we're not going anywhere for awhile. But, on the bright side, the power is being diverted to prevent the ship's orbit from decaying and burning us to a cinder on reentry."
"Well, that's a load off my mind," Rose said dryly. "It's just rotten luck—one more door and we'd be in the Tardis, but no, the Sorasians had to build their ship like a floating phallic symbol!" Rose complained, rolling her eyes.
"Well, that's the point, isn't it?" the Doctor said as he scanned the smallish room intently. He opened one of the panels on the walls and began fiddling with the wires inside.
Rose looked over at him, brow wrinkled. "What is?"
"The Sorasians," the Doctor reiterated. "Their whole culture is all based on sex. They're actually gaseous in form and they used to live as parasites until they learned to create android bodies to inhabit. They feed on orgasmic energy, you know, so they'd travel the universe in search of…well, fuel. You'd be amazed how well they made that little biological quirk work for them, their technology, their religion, their whole civilization was built on it. Anyhow, all went swimmingly for a couple hundred years or so, and then people started to figure out that androids can carry diseases too. The Sorasians were responsible for so many plagues of sexually transmitted diseases that they couldn't find willing partners anymore. The race pretty much died out after that and the surviving Sorasians became scavengers and body-snatchers."
"What, all of 'em? That's so sad," Rose said, hopping up on a long, padded bench while she watched the Doctor play with the wiring. "Is that why this ship is abandoned?"
"No, at this point, the Sorasians are still in their heyday. More likely there was some kind off accident. It looks as though a pressure system failed suddenly and for a gaseous life-form, that's pretty much a death sentence."
He continued to spout off random facts about the Sorasian race without pause, occupying Rose's mind nicely as the rest of his brain began to consider the facts. They only had about three days before the power completely ran out and they plunged towards the planet. It would take him at least that long to reroute the controls to let him transfer remaining power to the doors—assuming there was any left by that point. Plus, they didn't have access to any food or water and humans couldn't go long without liquid—three days was definitely Rose's limit. So he needed to find a way to generate power. And they were on a Sorasian ship. And Rose was sitting ever so obtusely on a Sorasian elic—an energy absorption pad.
He debated the moral implications for seven minutes and concluded that he'd definitely done worse to save someone's life, and that person had been significantly less important than Rose. His decision made, he deliberately shorted out the temperature controls, hit the pheromone modulator, and turned to give Rose his most charming smile. Then he lied to her face.
"Well, I've managed to start siphoning power away from the main computer, but it's slow going; 'course we don't need much, so it shouldn't be too long."
"So what do you think—a few hours?" she asked, smiling.
"Yeah, 'bout that." He gave her a reassuring smile as the temperature rose by a degree. They chatted for a while, when she ran out of funny stories about her Mum, he told her about the Mkreen, a race of little purple people who had only five second memories and absorbed sunlight for food. When they exhausted that subject there was a rousing game of I Spy, and then he started to tell her jokes that got progressively dirtier as time progressed.
"Okay, so a Kremolopoid walks out of a bar with the key to his personal transport in his hand. Now he's stumbling back and forth, obviously having had one too many Beluvian Marsh Hoppers, right? So a peacekeeper spots him and approaches. He says, "Sir, can I help you?" Now when they're drunk Kremolopoids get very forgetful, so he says, "Yes, someone stole my transport!" The peacekeeper asks, "Where was your transport the last time you saw it?" And the Kremolopoid says, "It was on the end of this key!" Now about that time the peacekeeper looks down and realizes that the Kremolopoid's pants are wide open and his ah…organ…is flapping in the breeze. So he asks him, "Sir, are you aware that you are exposing yourself?" And the Kremolopoid looks confused, looks down, and then, without missing a beat, says, "Damn it to Clistomos, my wife's been stolen too!"
Rose roared with laughter and the Doctor joined in easily, feeling a golden warmth ease over him like a blanket. It was times when they were alone like this, just being together, that made him realize how wonderful she was all over again. Her smiles made him smile, her pain was his pain. And he was going to get her out of here, one way or another.
"Is it me, or is it really hot in here?" Rose asked suddenly, pushing her damp hair back from her face. "Are the temperature controls being affected by the power drain?"
The Doctor shook his head. "Nah, then we'd be getting colder. No, it's a by-product of my tampering, I'm afraid. I'm storing energy in the heating units and it's causing them to kick on."
"But won't that use up the energy?" Rose asked, looking worried.
"Yes, but it's filling faster than the heater uses it—though that's part of the reason it's taking so long to open the doors."
"Oh," Rose said, seemingly satisfied. She kicked off her shoes, stuffing her socks into her trainers. The Doctor followed her lead and shucked off his coat as well, laying it on the floor atop them.
"Are we taking off any more clothes then?" the Doctor asked, grinning cheekily at her.
Rose smirked. "Well you never know; the night is young. Anything could happen."
He took it a step further. "Anything, hmmm? That sounds good—we could go to dinner, see a movie…do a bit of dancing." His emphasis made it clear what kind of dancing he was talking about.
Rose blushed as red as her namesake. Sometimes he suspected she forgot that while he was a new new Doctor, he still remembered every one of their conversations in his ninth incarnation. "I never figured you were that keen on dancing," Rose said, stuttering ever so slightly on the most important word. "I mean, you're a science-guy; by all rights you should have two left feet and an unnatural love of chemistry or something."
She was trying to keep the conversation light, he could see, though he was clearly distracting her. He made eye contact, trying to read her as accurately as possible. She looked nervous, intrigued, but shy, which was only natural considering he'd led her down this path before and given her little more than some handholding and a few scorching glances. But he wasn't playing this time—or at least, not any game she would recognize.
"Chemistry's all right, I suppose," he said, grinning. She grinned back, happy he had taken the bait, he supposed, but of course it couldn't be that easy. "But I'm also a big fan of Biology, you know…" he leered at her, "comparative anatomy."
"Doctor!" she said, trying to sound scandalized but succeeding only in sounding fascinated.
He leaned towards her and she instinctively tried to put space between them by backing away. Except they were on an elic, with roughly the shape of a twin size bed, and the only way to go was sideways. He followed her over, bracing himself above her with his right arm, his left coming up to stroke her cheek. Her body was twisted to the right as her legs still hung over the edge, but he would fix that in just a moment. "What do you say, Rose? I'll show you mine if you show me yours."
She rolled unexpectedly, gracefully dropping off the elic and backing away from him. "Doctor, are you feeling all right?" she asked, staring at him warily.
Okay, clearly he'd moved too fast with her, but the pheromones floating around the enclosed space were starting to get to him. Females were always more resistant, but still, he'd have thought she'd at least be a little more in the mood than this by now. He tried to focus; she was asking him questions. "I'm fine, Rose? What's wrong?" Innocent tone, but not too innocent, that would only get her back up—he added a teasing, flirtatious note to his voice, "You're acting like I'm going to eat you up." He couldn't resist a slow grin, which only put her more on her guard, of course.
"Did you touch something on this ship or maybe inhale something or get your mind taken over by an alien or something?" she demanded.
He rolled his eyes, sitting back up to dangle his legs over the elic. "Rose, I've been with you the whole time—so anything I've inhaled, you've inhaled too."
Her eyes lit up and she pointed at him furiously. "There, you see, so maybe that explains why I'm so…" she ground to a halt, blushing like mad.
He grinned smugly. "So….what, Rose?"
"Never mind! Point is, clearly we're being affected by something and we just need to try to think this through and not do…anything."
He stared at her for a long moment, letting his eyes bore into hers until she was breathing heavily. Until her eyes glazed over with the intensity of the image he was projecting and she gave a low little whimper, deep in her throat. Until he could barely restrain the urge to stand up and pin her against the wall until she made that sound again. And then he spoke. "Rose Tyler, come here."
She stepped shakily towards him, refusing to break eye contact, or maybe unable—he certainly wasn't capable of it. And then finally, finally, she was standing in front of him and he could reach down and kiss her the way he'd been wanting to kiss her since their lips had parted on Satellite Five.
But it wasn't enough—he pulled her back up onto the elic where she belonged and she straddled his lap as he deepened the kiss, feeling as though he could sink into Rose Tyler and never leave. She was so deliciously soft, so wonderfully aggressive, so perfectly pressed just where he wanted her. Even knowing he could never really achieve what his body was craving with her, he felt at this moment that just feeling this joy was worth all the frustration he would deal with later.
He couldn't wait anymore, thrusting his tongue into her mouth as he slipped his hands underneath her jumper. He wanted to give her pleasure, and by all appearances he was succeeding. Her head was lolling as his lips slipped down her throat and his hands reached up to cup her breasts through what felt like a very sensible bra. Her eyes snapped shut and her mouth fell open slightly—it was utterly sexy. He wished he was in more of a position to appreciate it.
He was a Time Lord and only another Gallifreyan could push the right combination of buttons to complete this mating ritual. But he wasn't in love with a Gallifreyan, so he would give Rose everything she wanted, anything he could give her, and he would hope that it was enough. And if their lives were saved in the process, well, that was a pleasant bonus, but of far more importance were the little gasps and moans Rose was making as he ran his fingers over every inch of skin he could reach.
"Doctor!" she breathed, leaning over him to press frantic kisses over his face. He claimed her mouth, unclasping her bra and pushing it out of his way. He was thankful that he could think on so many levels at once, because he had to remind himself to make noises of appreciation, to divert blood to his extremities, and force himself to harden so that Rose could feel him.
She was pulling at his clothes now, removing his tie, yanking his buttons open to touch his chest. It felt good, being this close to her, intimate. He smiled into her kiss and her lips trailed over his jaw and down to his neck. There wasn't much time though, not enough to properly enjoy it. Next time, he promised himself as he thumbed her jeans open and tried to push them and her knickers off at the same time.
Rose helped him, leaning forward, her breasts squashed against his chest delightfully. When she sat up and finally yanked both t-shirt and bra off, he was rewarded with Rose in all her pink and yellow glory. For a moment he was stunned, couldn't believe everything was going so well, and then she caught his eyes and smiled, that wonderful, perfect, Rose smile. "I love you," she said softly, shyly.
He felt a thrill of real arousal shoot through him and relished it. He sat up to kiss her, delicately at first, but she would have none of it. The kiss became hungry, and he let her have her way as he moved down to explore uncharted territory. His hands were gliding over Rose, his thumb was stroking Rose, his fingers, slippery now, were sliding inside Rose…and it was divine. She clutched at his shoulders, moaning, gasping his name, and he was sure he had never heard it said so perfectly.
"It's so good," she said, then laughed. "I always said you were brilliant."
"We're a matched set then," he told her, grinning as he pressed up hard suddenly and her hips bucked, "because you're fantastic."
She laughed, then she frowned. That wasn't right; she should not be frowning at this stage. Her brow wrinkled and his gaze followed it, distressed. "But I want—" she cut off as he hit a particularly lovely spot with his fingers. It would be so easy to finish her off like this, easy, but not as satisfying.
"What do you want, Rose?" he asked instead. "You can have anything you want."
She blushed then, and he was surprised to see it travel down to her breasts, tingeing everything with color. As he was marveling, she spoke almost shyly, "I want everything, Doctor."
And he wanted that too. This was his first time in…well…a long time, and the first time with Rose would never come again. He wanted the complete experience, the full intimacy of being surrounded by Rose. It sounded safe—not something he got a lot of in his life.
They worked together, her fingers eagerly pulling at his zip, he pushing the trousers off with his shorts and forcing his willing flesh to thrust as eagerly upwards as any human male. He even felt human—a bit nervous, slightly out of breath, but also excited, curious, and desperately in love. She pressed down on him, slid on to him, as though they had been made to fit together. He sighed with the relief of it and she gasped with the power of all those epic human emotions that had to be thundering through her body like a fireworks display. He wanted so badly to feel it, but it was enough to watch.
And then they moved, together. He tuned himself to her, responding to each gasp, trying to make the next one sooner, sharper, more. He wanted her to feel incandescently pleasured. He wanted her to be happy. If the sounds she was making were any indication, he was succeeding. He could feel it building around him as he thrust into her to a rhythm as old as time—and he would know. Her hands braced against his chest, trembling as she came closer and closer. The room seemed to glow—but that must be the elic responding to the gathering energy, he noted in the back of his mind. Nothing to worry about, nothing, nothing…
It had to be an accident, but Rose's hands suddenly ghosting from his chest to his temples felt almost purposeful. "Rose?" As he whispered her name, she stopped responding to the thrust of his hips and he stilled, caught by a sudden sparkle.
Beneath lids that had been closed in ecstasy, orange light glinted in the dimness. It was a very familiar orange, not something he could forget. But there was no time to process it because now she was in his mind, like a balm on a wound he didn't know he had. She was soaring through his thoughts and he just had time to realize that she might be upset before she had seen it all and her fury began to radiate through his synapses.
He slammed up his mental defenses; it was too late to lock her out, but all vital areas were quickly double and triple locked against intrusion. Rose wouldn't hurt him, of course, he knew that—what he didn't know was how much control Bad Wolf had over her. He braced for a sudden mental strike, but as Rose's angry presence stormed through his mind, she didn't seem to be headed in any predictable direction. In fact, she was intuitively making her way straight for his—
Pleasure so unexpected and intense that he had no guard against it erupted in his mind. It curled through his body, from head to toe, making his hips jerk upwards into Rose and causing another spasm of bliss to shoot through him. "Rassilon," he sputtered, looking up in sheer wonder at Rose's smug smile. Then she rolled her hips.
He choked, his whole body jerking as she mentally stroked his pleasure center. He couldn't think, couldn't retaliate; his hands flew to her hips as she levered herself up and then slowly sank back down onto him. All he could do was cry out and beg her for forgiveness or release, or possibly something else entirely. Yes, yes, he was sorry he hadn't told her, so sorry, he would never do it again, but please, Rose, please again, more harder, faster, Rose. His whole body wanted and it had been so long. Then she clenched her inner muscles around him and the world went white.
The next few minutes were a blur of backs arching hands stroking and pleading for her not to stop and her name, over and over again, Rose, please, Rose, Rose, Rose until finally, finally, her body tightened around his and she squeezed his mind, too, just there, just there, just right. Rassilon she was a natural. And shuddering, sobbing with relief and gratitude and overwhelming pleasure, he came so hard he blacked out.
When he drifted back to the living, the lights were brighter and Rose was laying across his chest, humming into his ear. It was so soft, he probably wouldn't have been able to catch the tune had he not been hearing it for the better part of his life, playing in the background of his head ever since he had first joined with his TARDIS.
"So how much trouble am I in?" he asked, and she pulled away to stare down at him with an inscrutable look on her face.
"Quite a lot," she said, narrowing her eyes at him.
"Would it help if I said I was very, very sorry and yet completely without regrets?" he asked hopefully.
Her mouth twisted, like she was trying very hard not to smile, but eventually it crept across her face like the sunrise, in spite of herself. "Don't think you're in the clear yet," she warned him, as he felt his answering smile bloom across his face. Obediently, he schooled his face into seriousness. "I just wish you'd talk to me about this stuff before the situation just explodes!" she told him exasperatedly.
The Doctor stared at her for a long minute. "Explodes," he repeated. He stared at her some more. Then they both burst into giggles.
"Stop it, you're not being serious!" she told him through her laughter.
He clutched tighter to her, running his hands across the bare skin of her back appreciatively and grinning from ear to ear. "I am; I want very much to take you seriously." He gave her a split second to ponder that, then flipped them, very suddenly, until he was looming over her, his face as somber as she could wish it. He leaned in, brushing his lips over her neck purposefully and he smirked against her skin when she moaned. Then he pulled back to grin at her, "I'll take you any way you want me, Rose Tyler."
She laughed again, smacking him playfully on the arm. "Well, if you're up for round two, we're doing it on the TARDIS before we get locked in here again."
"Are you kidding?" he asked, glancing about at the brilliantly illuminated room. "We just had two mind-blowing orgasms on top of the power generator—this ship could probably take us across the galaxy and back. I won't be surprised if we've blown a few circuits."
Rose went very still beneath him, her eyes narrowing in a way that made him suddenly very nervous. "Are you telling me that you seduced me so you could power up this ship?" she asked dangerously.
He rolled off her slowly, grabbing his pile of clothes as casually as he could. "Oh," he said, sniffing importantly, "that wasn't what you saw in my head, then?" Rhetorical questions were lovely for buying one time to think very, very quickly.
"No, I mostly just had time to see that you were faking it, but this puts it in a whole new light." Her naked body gleamed at him as she hopped off the elic and glared at him.
"Now look, Rose, before your face does that squashed, angry thing that I just love, I think you should remember one thing."
Hands on her hips, she paused, giving him a vital second to put the finishing touches on the plan he was forming. "And what's that?"
"That that is your favorite shirt," he told her, pointing solemnly. Then he hit the door release and sprinted for the TARDIS.
He heard her sputtering indignantly as he flung the doors open and ran towards his bedroom. He had been careful not to let Rose find out where it was located, so a trail was necessary if she was to find him—truthfully, it was the only reason he'd stopped to pick up his clothes in the first place. Now he had only to stretch out on his bed and wait.
As predicted, she had stopped to gather her clothes, though she'd only put her bra and underwear back on. The rest were presumably in the control room, since that was her favorite shirt and all. He grinned as she burst into the room, all flushed and glistening; it was a bonus when she caught sight of him and abruptly turned an even brighter pink.
"Rose Tyler," he said, unable to tear his eyes away. "You are gorgeous."
That at least seemed to break her out of the fugue state she had been trapped in. Her heavy-lidded gaze snapped to attention and she stormed over to him. "And you, Doctor, have just made a big mistake." Her eyes flashed as she kept them very pointedly pinned on his face.
"Oh have I?" he asked, in that familiar oh-so-concerned tone of his. He stretched, arching his back slightly and saw Rose's eyes widen. He pouted at her. "You're not going to punish me, are you?" His voice turned thick and honeyed, anticipation dripping off each word.
"I—" Rose sputtered, unconsciously reaching for him before she held herself back. "No, hang on, you can't just use me like a battery and then turn all sex-kitten on me and expect me to just forget it!"
He sighed, arms flopping back down to his side. "No, I suppose not. I mean, that would be ridiculous, me just lying here, completely at your mercy, all desperate and vulnerable. After all, I did trick you, just a bit, purely for your own good, but that's not the point!"
"My own good!" Rose objected, but he cut her off quickly.
"I suppose it is very rude of me to expect you to do all the work, go to all the trouble of punishing my transgressions." She looked confused, like she had suddenly lost track of where this conversation was going. Naturally, that was when he sprang into motion. In less than a second he had her pinned beneath him, his lips unerringly finding hers and with every intention of starting at the top and working his way down.
"You are—" she began, then cut herself off, apparently unable to find a word vile enough to describe his behavior. He pressed an open-mouth kiss to her neck and decided to help her out.
"Amazing?" he asked, moving down to lick a path between her breasts. "Wonderful?" Hot, wet kisses sliding down her stomach. "Incredible?"
"Yes…" he voice began to fade. "I'm definitely," she paused, clearly losing her train of thought "…incredulous," she muttered distractedly as his mouth delved lower still. And then he made sure she could only find one word, "Oh, oh, OH. Doctor."