Fic, The Lady in the Fireplace, 18/32: Coming Back, Part II

[loveslashangst]

Story: The Lady in the Fireplace
Author: Melinda Kitty melindakitty
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Reinette, King of France and (eventually) Ninth Doctor
Rated: oh, so Adult for slash, bisexuality, mature content, language, abuse of REALLY good champagne, and lots and lots of sex (multiple pairings/groupings)
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, 'cause if I did, Rose would be more BadWolf and less Angst, Ten would post a sign on the door sayin' "If the TARDIS is a rockin', don't come a knockin'", and half of their adventures through time and space would consist of finding new and unusual places to have a juicy shag.
Spoilers: AU, DURING "The Girl in the Fireplace". If you haven't seen the first three series of Doctor Who, you WILL be spoilered. I like to mess with canon. And you have my word that -- despite how this starts -- I'm a passionate Rose/Ten shipper.
Summary: OTP Rose/Ten with a lot of interesting liaisons along the way. So what exactly DID Ten do in Versailles? This French farce will have love, drama, sex, and eventually as close to a happy ending as I can manage. Be forewarned, though, I may take you places that would make RTD's head explode.

On with the show:

In which Ten begs for forgiveness... on his knees.

(I told you I’d let Rose take it out of his hide.)



Mickey takes that as his cue to leave.

As soon as the door shuts, Rose rounds on the Doctor. “If you’re going to be like that, then you get the hell--” But whatever else she was going to say is lost as he sweeps her into his arms (he’s a lot stronger than he looks) and snogs her senseless. It’s not fair. How’s she supposed to kill him out when he kisses like a god? “--have you completely lost your mind, coming in here like that?”

The Doctor nods, enthusiastic. “Yup. I have.” He reaches behind. Pulls a lever.

She reaches for the Heart of the TARDIS. The TARDIS politely refuses. Her engines start.

“Hey!” Rose glares at the central column. “Thought we was friends!”

The Doctor’s gentle hand turns her face back. “You’ll love this, Rose.” He grins. “I promise.”

“I doubt that...” Then she feels it. Where they’re going. WHEN they’re going. “Have you completely lost your mind?”

He grins wider. “Yeah. I have.” He lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And I’m going to get away with it.”

He’s gone completely ‘round the twist. “But...” she sputters. “Paradox... If we... And he... You’ll blow up the universe!”

“Only two thirds of it,” he says, wounded. He retreats to the console. Checks settings. “And only if I’m wrong. And I’m never wrong, Rose.”

She sputters like a wet cat. “You’re wrong all the time!”

“Not when it’s important.” He shoots her a surprisingly lucid look. “It’ll work, Rose. I promise.”

“Let’s say it does work,” she says, because the thought is one of the searingly hottest things she’s ever considered and it’s doing all sorts of wonderful things to her nethers. “Even if you manage not to blow us all to kingdom come through paradox, he’ll never agree.”

She thinks about it for a moment. “Come to think of it, might be fun to watch him tell you off.”

She folds her arms, grinning. “Carry on.”

“He won’t tell me off.” The Doctor levels a finger at her. “But only if you let me do all the talking. Rose, let me do all the talking.”

He returns to the console. Does half a dozen things that yesterday she only half understood. It’s a little frightening how much sense they make today. Trajectory. Displacement. Movement in four dimensions because both space and time are ever expanding.

(No wonder he misses their destination so much; it’s a miracle they ever arrive anywhere or anywhen in one piece.)

The TARDIS caresses her mind, reassuring. She knows when she’s going. She always knows when she’s going. She never argues with the Doctor; she simply ignores him.

“Are you in on this, then?” Rose says softly.

The rhythm of the engines sounds like laughter.

“Why would you do this?” she says to the Doctor.

“Love,” he mutters. He makes a few more adjustments. Sets a few more instruments, all determination and intensity. “Yes. Definitely love.”

They land with a thump that’s slightly softer than usual.

“Love?” He HAS gone mad.

As long as she lives, she will never forget the way the cockiness melts away as he looks up. He sobers, all his emotions plain on his face.

“I love you,” he says.

She can’t move. Doesn’t want to move. “You...”

He approaches her carefully, like he’s afraid he might wake from a dream. And she’s afraid too, because she was almost positive they’d be separated before he ever said the words. “What happened to you back there?”

“The King.” He cups her face in his hands. “He showed me that’s it’s best not to worry about things that don’t matter.” He kisses her forehead, very gently. “And to treasure the one person who does.”

She closes her eyes at the gentle touch. “I...” Furious. She’s furious, right? She gives a half-hearted glare. “I still haven’t forgiven you.”

“You will.” He teases her lips with his.

“Well, isn’t someone sure of himself?” But she’s already caving. (He loves her!) The man needs a shower, but he still smells heavenly, all sweat and musk and lingering traces of sex.

“I’ll wait you out.” He snogs her, deep and slow. “Forever if I have to.”

“Forever’s a long time.” Dammit, she’s sliding her arms around him. (Some holdout she is.)

“Time Lord.” Another of those really deep kisses that set her heart racing. “I can afford to wait.”

“Should make you...” he’s making it hard to think straight, “beg for forgiveness...”

He pulls away, grinning. “What a fantastic idea!” He strips off her shirt in one easy motion.

“Here now!” Her outrage softens as those smooth-strong hands caress bare skin. Cup her breasts. His thumbs circle her nipples as his mouth hovers just above her lips. (It’s not fair that the bastard has the most intense bedroom-eyed look she’s ever seen.) “What d--d’you think you’re d--doing?”

“Apologizing.” He lingers on the word. His breath on her lips only makes her want to snog him more.

If she’s not careful, she’ll lose the upper hand. “I thought you were begging forgiveness.”

Slow steady circles with his thumbs. Very distracting. She’s breathing hard in spite of herself.

“I am,” he murmurs. “Begging.”

“Then why aren’t you on your knees?” (Oh God, did she just suggest what she thinks she suggested?)

He grins, slowly. She grins back.

His hands drift downward. He snogs her. Slowly. Deeply. Puts that lovely mouth to good use, eloquent tongue and all. Unbuttons her jeans. Unzips her. Hooks his thumbs in the waistband of both jeans and knickers. (She’s breathing hard now.) Slowly slips them over her hips. Kisses his way down her belly. Slides her jeans down. Caresses the backs of her thighs as he goes. (She catches her hands in his hair.) Pushes the jeans past her knees. (Please don’t let her faint!) Presses her hand to his shoulder so she can balance as he slips the jeans first off one foot, then the other. (Where did she lose her shoes? Buggered if she can remember.)

He slides his hands up the backs of her now-bare legs. She has to hold both his shoulders to keep from falling. Her knees don’t seem to be working right anymore.

“A-- about the future,” she stutters. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Forgiven.” He kisses his way up her thigh. “Forgotten.” His hands are at the backs of her thighs. His lips ghost their way back up her belly. Over her ribcage. “You did the right thing.” He lingers at her breast. Teases the nipple to hardness. “And I believe it’s my turn to beg for forgiveness, yes?”

Her “yeah” is shaky at best. His gentle fingers slide over her backside. Tease their way up her spine.

“Rose.” He makes a prayer out of her name. “Please forgive me.”

She snogs him. Hard. Decides to play along. “No.”

He flashes a grin. Sobers. Persuades her with a kiss. She nips his lower lip, defiant. He hooks his hands under her backside. Sets her on the one panel of the console that doesn’t have scary-looking levers or wires sticking all ways from Sunday. Caresses down her sides. “Please forgive me.”

“No.” She shivers slightly, anticipating. “On your knees, Doctor.”

He drops to one knee with aching slowness. (He’s enjoying this, the bastard.) Kisses his way down her front. Caresses his way down her back. Rests his cheek against her thigh. “Please forgive me.”

“No.” She swallows hard. Tries to catch her breath. Strokes his hair with one shaking hand. He’s not seriously going to...?

He slides his hands between her knees. Presses them apart. The first hot breath at her sex makes her breath catch in her throat. (He has her complete attention now.)

“Please forgive me.” Every syllable of the whisper shivers its way through her. “Rose...”

She clings to what little composure she has left. “N--n--no.” Her fingers tighten in his hair, though, lest he get any funny ideas about stopping.

He takes a long, slow taste. She just about loses consciousness. He rolls her on his tongue. Savours her. Drinks deeply. Slow, sweet laps. She grabs the edge of the console. Loses the ability to think straight.

“Forgive me,” he whispers against her.

“Oh God,” she gasps. Remembers the game. “N--no.”

Kneeling, he loops her legs over his shoulders. Hooks his hands under her hips. Pulls her forward. Faster licks. A bit of suction. She loses what little mind she has left. He pulls her into his mouth. Drives his tongue deep. She breathes in ragged gasps. A hum of pleasure sounds in the back of his throat.

“Forgive me.” The whisper’s more insistent now. “Rose.”

Her fingers tighten on the edge of the console. Every movement of his mouth arcs through her. Shatters her. (God, he’s good at this!) “No. No. No. No. No. No.” It’s more a mantra to keep her sane than a real denial. If he stops now, she’ll kill him for real.

The stillness builds at the base of her spine. She’s close. Really close. He slides two confident fingers in. Curves them slightly up. Matches the rhythm of his mouth. Rolls her on his tongue. Pleasure arcs through her.

She falls out of herself. The doors in her mind... the one’s she’s shut against the future... she can’t control...

He slides smoothly into her mind. Shuts them for her.

She looks down, startled.

He looks up, sincere.

Then he does something that makes her think he might well be double-jointed.

Back bowed, she screams. “DOCTOR!” She spins out of herself. Falls through the stars.

He’s there to catch her as she falls. Gentle laps bring her back to herself. A gentle masculine presence draws her back into her body. Her breathing returns to a saner rate. Warmth spreads through her body.

His hands are strong at her hips. Hold her in place. (Good thing, that. She’s shaking so hard she’d probably fall off her perch. She’ll also be amazed if her fingers haven’t left dents in the console.) He kisses his way up her body. Takes his time. She hugs him tight. Presses her face into his shoulder. “I forgive you,” she murmurs.

“Not yet.” His breath is hot at her ear. “But you will.”

There’s more? “You’re going to kill me.”

He chuckles. “I certainly hope not.” He holds her tighter. “Besides, for the next part, I think you’ll want to be very much alive.”

Her whole body stills as she remembers where he’s brought them. WHEN he’s brought them.

He presses a kiss to her forehead. Strokes her hair. “Let me know when you think you can walk.”

“You’re evil,” she says, utterly happy.

He hugs her tighter. “I love you too.”

It takes her an embarrassingly long time to recover. The Doctor wavers between sympathy and amusement. (The bastard.) Sulking a little, she decides it’s only fair considering the way she undid him.

He offers a shoulder as she dresses. (Skirts. She’s definitely going to invest in some very short, very swishy skirts. And even smaller knickers. This whole jeans thing is just too much work.) Helps her slip her t-shirt on. (She doesn’t rebuke him for the wandering hands.) He even finds her shoes, which only proves the man is some kind of magician. She laces quick as she can.

They snog shamelessly for several long minutes before leaving the TARDIS. The man has the most addictive mouth. She could kiss him for a lifetime and never get tired of it. And she doesn’t care that they won’t have a lifetime. (And thank God he doesn’t seem to either.)

The edge of the console presses against the backs of her thighs. She grins against his lips. “Fancy a second round?”

“Not yet,” he says.

She grins wider. “‘Not yet’? I like the sound of that.” She sobers as the next thought occurs to her. “Can you help me with the Bad Wolf again?”

He nods. “If you’ll trust me?”

She presses her whole body against his. Answers with a kiss. He gives every bit as good as he gets.

He nips at her lips. Reluctantly pulls away. “C’mon.” He grins. “I can’t wait to see the look on my face.”



Link to All Previous Chapters

Crossposted to: time_and_chips