Chapter Text
"There Will Be Time" ~Mumford and Sons, Baaba Maal
In the cold light, I live to love and adore you
It's all that I am, it's all that I have
In the cold light, I live, I only live for you
It's all that I am, it's all that I have
So open up my eyes to a new light
I wandered 'round your darkened land all night
But I lift up my eyes to a new high
And indeed there would be time
But in the cold light, I live to love and adore you
It's all that I am, it's all that I have
And in the cold light I live, I only live for you
It's all that I am, it's all that I have
And in the cold light, I live to love and adore you
It's all that I am, it's all that I have
In the cold light, I live to love and adore you
It's all that I am, it's all that I have
Why do I keep falling?
Why do I keep falling?
A time to love
A time to sing, a time to shine
A time to leave, a time to stay
There is a time, a time to cry
A time to love, a time to live
And in the cold light, I live to love and adore you
It's all that I am, it's all that I have
In the cold light, I live, I only live for you
It's all that I am, it's all that I have
Why do I keep falling?
Why do I keep falling?
_____________________________________
There is something to be said for the neck. Just a plain, smooth span of skin, between the head and torso. But the sheer amount of nerve endings in the neck, coupled with the level of intimacy it takes to trust a person to grant contact with this part of the body creates the perfect storm. Combine that with the veneration it takes to want to kiss another person’s neck speaks for the level of desire one feels for someone. It’s not kissing. It’s not sexual contact. It’s premeditated on the part of one partner, and it’s complete vulnerability on the part of the other.
What it does to a person- it's the act of bringing someone from normal activity to the throbbing need for contact, for reconnection within mere seconds says much indeed about this under-appreciated, often ignored part of the body.
And it doesn’t just initiate the need for contact, but the need to give and receive pleasure--- the ultimate way to express love, to reiterate commitment, and to reestablish the bond between two lovers, at a soul level. It’s white knuckles, grasping, twisting in sheets. It’s complete openness. It’s silence except for the sound of breath and occasional words of love and encouragement. And when the pleasure of one’s partner becomes much more important than his or her own, this is truth. This is devotion. This is need.
The Doctor’s need for her just worsens, he finds. After denying oneself everything you’ve ever wanted, and then finally being able to give in to it, the exigence to express this drive multiplies--- by the minute it seems.
Here within the dimly-lit zeppelin, in the minuscule hours of the morning when no one is awake but the Doctor, he of course reasons with himself using concepts he understands best.
In physics, the pull of magnetism between two objects can act at a distance--- a few inches away, a foot away, a mile away, from opposite poles of the Earth, a galaxy away, and even a dimension away. Like Yin and Yang, one cannot exist without the other. Each half exists holding a piece of the other, right at the heart. When separated, according to Plato’s Symposium , two souls will spend lifetimes seeking one another. A ship to its beacon. The Darkness to the Light. An albatross to its mate. There is a certain inevitability in it--- that they should come together, in time. A dam will break, eventually.
Some things need a little encouragement, though, and the Doctor’s short human life is weighing on him once more. His impulsivity wins again, he decides. When it comes to Rose Tyler, he finds that this is nearly always the case, now.
_________________________________________
Along the subliminal knife edge between dreaming and being fully awake--- that space where the blackness slowly dissipates from charcoal, to purple, to red, to pink, and eventually full colour--- Rose rouses slowly at the sensation of her hair being swept from her neck. His fingers brush her scalp, combing through her blond tresses, as he scoots over on the bed, closing that space between them. Completing the circle, the inevitability of magnetism.
His lips brush the soft hairs on the back of her neck, as he places tender kisses across her skin, one chasing the next, each becoming longer in its duration, and more and more open-mouthed as they continue. His breath causes goose flesh to appear all across her body, which he calms with his patient hands anywhere he can feel the bumps rising.
Rose feels his presence within her mind, and he asks entrance, the warmth of his soul enveloping hers without delay when she acquiesces. There is no time to get to the physical mind level of their bond, not in this moment. He is too wrapped up in her and her light.
His arms come to wrap around her from behind, and his lips begin to follow the curve of her neck and shoulder to where he is pulling her skin gently into his mouth, leaving light marks each place he savours, eventually coming to the side and up to her jawline.
Rose turns her head and captures his lips, languid and breathless immediately in intensity. Open-mouthed, his lips and tongue claim dominance. He has to remind himself to breathe in these moments, as though his thudding heart would be capable of handling the lack of respiratory bypass in any capacity.
There is a point in all this where affection gives in to need , which seems to happen more and more quickly between the two of them, nowadays. His intentions are felt immediately by the desperation in his kisses, in the potency of his desire felt within their bond, and by his growing physical need--- evident against her backside.
He sweeps away the sheet that is draped over her, now simply a barrier--- a barricade keeping him from what he wants. His hand comes up, covering her bare breast, and she lets out a soft moan at his touch. He cups her as her breathing quickens and her eyes squeeze shut.
His hand then slides down over her hip, along the top of her thigh, and he pulls her leg up so that her knee is pointing to the ceiling. Starting at her knee, he moves his fingertips along the inside of her thigh, slowly, but then stops before he can reach where she wants him.
His hand then moves to her belly, below her navel, tracing the soft skin there with a whisper-light touch, moving downward with each revolution. His fingers finally seek her flesh, and her eyes flutter closed again at contact as her hips rock forward into his touch.
Rose herself is quite surprised she has a voice at this hour, as she lets out sounds that she had been unaware she was capable of making.
She wastes no time and immediately rolls herself onto her back. His fingers make lazy circles within her folds, and finally he sinks a finger inside, and he begins peppering kisses across her shoulder blades, eventually coming down to settle between her breasts.
He runs the tip of his tongue between them, then pays attention to each one in turn. Pulling her nipple between his lips, stroking with his tongue, as his hand continues its work between her legs, pulling back out again and working her in circles. He stops before she loses herself.
He descends once again, soft kisses covering her stomach, his lips nuzzling, letting the warm puffs of his breath heat her skin in his trek downward.
The scent of her arousal reaches his nose, and for the life of him he can’t ever recall the triggering of a sense that has nearly caused him to come apart like this.
Below her navel, he stops to pay special attention to the skin that leads down to the top of her soft, dark hairs, right above where she wants his mouth most. There, he spends even more time, kissing, leaving trails with his tongue, and letting her steep in the anticipation. It’s definitely working.
He is laying half on top of her legs, so he props himself up so that he can take each one, pushing them apart so that he can lay in between.
His mouth then moves over to the side, and he runs his tongue along the sliver of skin where her legs meet her torso, in the crevice between her heat and her leg, each side in turn.
Rose is panting now, unsure she can stand any more of this torture, but then he brushes his lips over her soft hairs, back and forth, taking in that heady scent before finally reaching out his tongue and touching her.
Understandably, Rose cries out in relief.
He takes her legs, spreading them even further apart, and if his adoration could be felt anywhere, it would be written in the soft touch of his lips and tongue, sliding across her slick skin. Gentle, at first, the tip of his tongue makes slow rotations, becoming bolder as her voice becomes louder.
He lets her know through their bond how incredible this is for him--- how desperate he is to make her feel good, and how much he wants her. Rose can return no such coherent thought, however.
Rose grabs fistfuls of sheets in her hands, as though she is floating and might fall off, as his tongue curls on each agonisingly slow upward motion, as his breath comes out in puffs that cause her skin to pucker again.
He glances up, noticing the effect on her nipples, so he brings his hands up to cover her breasts, kneading as his tongue works her again.
His lips fully encircle her, finally, drawing her flesh into his mouth. Rose plants her feet, and subconsciously lifts her hips, grinding them against the motion of his mouth. She looks down, making eye contact with him.
The look of love in his eyes, coupled with the intensity of their connection convey everything she needs to know, as he brings his right hand down, and sinks two fingers within her, setting up a rhythm right away.
Rose grinds her hips harder, but this time sinks her hands into his hair, which is soft from their shared shower the previous night. She scratches his scalp with her nails, and begins crying out. She is sure that the intensity of this climax, slow in its approach, will definitely not be lackluster in its intensity.
Her hands in his hair become fists, as his two fingers stroke in and out of her, his lips and tongue still working her.
Rose’s eyes squeeze shut, and her head throws back against her pillow, grasping at it with her hands, which have left his head and now frame her face.
He looks up at her pale body, contorting in contrast against the dim light of the not-yet risen sun. If she replaced the sun and began to glow in that moment, he would not be in the least bit surprised.
Images overflow in their connection. Possible future images. A life lived as one- where he would do anything to make it happen. A home, somewhere peaceful. Pets. A child, maybe two if they are very lucky. A large workshop where he can build their TARDIS. A quiet life in between adventures. A large library in their house, a bathroom with a huge soaking tub.
Post-it notes written in Gallifreyan covering multiple surfaces in their home- all of them written in different ways to say “I love you.” Some are written in Rose’s style- her attempting to learn his native tongue so that eventually they would be given a few words of a second language to communicate their love in- as though a telepathic bond is not enough.
He can’t complete the images he’s giving her because all at once, her climax approaches thanks to his lips and tongue, still working her, and his fingers, still pumping in and out.
Rose cries out, and he feels the muscles within her contract as she comes apart, him continuing to draw out the last tremors, but as soon as her body goes limp, he climbs on top of her, finds her entrance, and pushes inside, quickly setting up a rhythm.
She kisses him, tasting herself on his mouth, and she wraps her legs around him as he draws himself all the way out, then back in again. So soon after her first climax, she is well within the time that she is chasing a second one, which he feels her convey within their connection.
She presses her forehead against his, and brings her legs up high across his back.
The sheen of sweat beads across his back and shoulders, and she begins sucking the skin on his neck, and he pushes into her deeper, and begins grinding his pelvic bone against hers, giving her the friction she needs- she begins writhing again within moments. He breathes her name, over and over, whispering along with it words of love and reassurance. That he will never leave her.
Into his ear, she cries out again, spasming around him just as his own tension releases and he’s involuntarily rocking forward into her, riding out the waves of their shared bliss.
Euphoria overtakes each of them, as they go limp, still joined, gasping for breath. The Doctor reaches up to his face to find fresh tears that he had been unaware of.
He wonders once again if it will always be like this--- like coming home. Like being lost and found again. Rose, intuitive to his feelings even before the telepathic bond, assures him that yes, it will be.
He kisses her, breathless, and is drawn once more to the realization that life--- THEIR life--- is a gift of immeasurable value. She smiles up at him, then draws him in, and he places his head on her chest, right above her single, human heartbeat. The one to match his.
Floating back to sleep, even for a little while as the zeppelin makes its arrival in Paris, they each enjoy the shared peace before what they know will be another adventure only they could share.