Nothing Better [Birthday Fic for [ profile] wildwinterwitch]

Mar. 14th, 2010 12:54 pm
wishiknewwho: (Smirky Doctor)
[personal profile] wishiknewwho
Title: Nothing Better
Author: wishiknewwho
Rating: M
Characters: Ten / Rose
Dislcaimer: I don't own Doctor Who and it's probably just as well that I don't because it'd be nothing but hugs and hair ruffling for the foreseeable future. 
Spoilers: Absolutely none.
Summary: He has a thing for her in stockings, she knows that.
Author Notes: So, I don't write smut often and I haven't written it in a while, but it was [ profile] wildwinterwitch's bithday, and as she asked nicely and always writes such lovely fic, I couldn't deny her.  This is just a tiny bit kinky, but is actually rather tame.  The picture she prompted me with is under the cut with the fic.

Beta by the lovely [ profile] nipplemuggins and [ profile] salimali.  They put up with a lot off riffraff from me.

She leads him through the hallways, her high heels clicking confidently on the metal grating like she owns the place. She turns to face him, mischief in her darkened eyes as she crooks her finger at him. He follows along, unable to stop himself even if he wanted to. He wonders sometimes if he’s showing her the universe or if she’s showing it to him.
For once they’re back from a planet where nothing has gone wrong: there was no day to save, no revolutions to incite, no one to run from. They have had nothing but a thoroughly good time and the two of them are a little drunk on it.
Really, the only problem is the little black dress she’s wearing, the hem short enough to reveal the lacy tops of her black hold ups, the black ribbon winding through her hair, the bangles on her wrists, the smoky charcoal around her eyes. It’s all been working together to drive him mad and he’s been thinking of nothing but getting her back to the TARDIS the entire evening.
She’s playing with him, knowing exactly what she’s doing as she keeps a step ahead, always just out of his reach. She’s teasing him and it’s bordering on cruelty. Tired of her little game, he takes three long strides and catches her up, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and she cries in indignation and then pleasure as he lowers his lips to her neck.
She pushes his jacket from his shoulders, neither of them caring as it falls to the grating beneath their feet. Her hands move to his tie, loosening it and sliding it out from under his collar as he kisses up her neck to her jawbone. The tie joins his jacket on the floor. They make slow progress to their bedroom, him kissing her, her leaving a trail of his clothes in her wake. 
She gets his trousers unfastened, but it’s all slowed down by his shoes, and they pull apart from each other for a few moments while he hops around on one foot, tugging at his laces. The strings end up in knots and Rose giggles then pushes him to lean against the wall. Giving him a heated look, she falls to her knees. His hands move to her shoulders. 
“Keep still,” she says, and seconds later she has the laces undone and he kicks his trainers off and shoves his trousers down and steps out of them. She slides her fingers under his sock, teasing the sole of his foot as she removes it. He laughs, and it’s a breathy, embarrassing noise that has her smiling cheekily at him as she repeats the gesture on his other foot.
She rocks back on her heels and tugs his boxer shorts down his legs. She moves back to her knees and takes him in her mouth, her tongue brushing over him slowly. His mouth falls open and before he can get his bearings, she stands up again and kisses him.
“You’re playing dirty,” he says, trying to slip his hand under her dress.
She evades him. “Only way I know how to play, Doctor,” she says. She pushes off from the wall behind him and goes into their bedroom, leaving him in the hallway, naked.
He takes a few slow breaths to calm himself down, and then follows her inside.
She’s lying on his side of the bed, propped back against the pillows, one of his books from the nightstand perched in her hands. Her dress has ridden up a few inches and he can see the tops of her thighs over the hold ups. His eyes take in her body slowly, moving from her feet (still in the heels, and really he should chastise her for wearing them on the bed) all the way to her eyes twinkling impishly at him over the book.
“I wasn’t sure how long you’d be,” she says, her voice low and playful and doing funny things to his insides. “Figured I might have time to catch up on some reading.”
She’s daring him, taunting him, and it only takes him a second to cross the room and snatch the book from her fingers, tossing it behind him haphazardly. He absently hopes it wasn’t that first edition, the one it took him nineteen planets and sixty odd bookstores to find.
He runs his fingers under her jaw, tilts her face up to his, and kisses her. She moans softly and he rejoices in making her lose control for at least a few moments. Once he’s sure that she won’t move, his hand makes its way down her body, lingering on the silk of her dress before finding the lacy tops of her hold ups. He works a finger inside as his tongue meets hers, and the duality of warm flesh shakes his control.
She sighs and he pulls back from the kiss to see her face. Her eyes are closed, her head still arched back, her lips full from his kisses.
“Do you like that?” he asks.
She nods and doesn’t open her eyes as his finger works its way around her thigh. “Take them off,” she whispers.
“Not yet,” he says, moving down until he can reach her feet. His slips the shoes from her feet and drops them on the floor. He presses the inside of her knee to his cheek, to his mouth, the warmth and smell of her skin under the material comforting, intoxicating.
He pushes himself off her, getting to his knees, and taking her hand in his. One by one, he removes the bracelets from her wrist and puts them on the bedside table. She bites her lip, but doesn’t tell him to go faster, relishes the moment as he does. When he’s finished, he runs his lips up the inside of her arm, and then pulls her to a sitting position. He urges her arms upwards and then grabs the hem of her dress, getting it over her head without too much difficulty.
She reaches behind her and unhooks her bra before letting it fall down her arms. She tangles her fingers in his hair and kisses him, her tongue teasing the inside of his mouth as his hands map her breasts. She rises up to her knees, steadying herself with her hands on his shoulders as he helps her remove her knickers.
“Now?” she asks, her fingers toying with the tops of her hold ups.
He shakes his head. “Leave them on,” he says.
She rolls her eyes and gives a little sigh, but she’s only teasing. He knows that she’ll let him have whatever he wants, that he’s her weakness. It’s only fair, she’s his weakness, too.
He presses soft kisses to her neck, thanking her for putting up with him, and she pushes against his chest until he is sitting. She climbs into his lap and he helps her get them into position. She winds her legs around his hips as she sinks onto him and they share a smile. Sometimes sex is good and sometimes it’s great, but this moment is always the best.
They move together, slowly at first, and then faster as the momentum, the passion builds between them. Her nails dig into his back, her head falling to his shoulder, and she murmurs her love for him as she loses control. She clenches around him and it pushes him over the edge. He wraps his arm around her, pulls her tightly to him as he comes, her name falling from his lips over and over.
Once he comes back to his senses, he pulls away to see her looking at him, a half smile playing about her lips.
He presses his forehead to hers. “Hello,” he says, his voice hoarse.
“Hi,” she says. Her eyes dance with joy and love and he thinks he’s never seen anything better.



Rose sighs as she sinks into the hot water, the steam wafting up around her, the scent of her bath oil relaxing her. It had started out as a date, her getting dressed up, him putting on the tie she liked and the new pair of Converse she’d bought him, but it had ended with them running for their lives. Although she has done it before and suspects she will do it many times again, running in heels is always a miserable experience. Once they’d made it back to the TARDIS in one piece, the Doctor had busied himself at the console, sending them into the Vortex, into safety, and she’d set off to have a bath.
She leans back and rests her arms along the lip of the bath, the porcelain a cool contrast to the heat of the water.
She’s almost asleep when the door clicks open, startling her to wakefulness. She looks up to see the Doctor coming into the bathroom, his eyes wandering over the clothes she’d scattered on the floor in her haste to get in the tub. His gaze finally lands on her, and she runs her fingers through her hair, which is curling in the humidity.
“You’ve already undressed,” he says, his voice thick with sulking.
“It’s kind of a necessary step before getting in the bath,” she says, playful sarcasm in her voice.
“I suppose it is,” he replies. He’s only wearing his shirt and trousers, and it takes him moments to get undressed. “I was just looking forward to taking off your clothes.”
“Were you now?” Her voice drops to a lower register. She’s still exhausted, but the look in his eyes is slowly waking her up. Not to mention the sight of him, naked and aroused.
“I was,” he says, bending over to pick up one of her discarded stockings. “I had the whole thing planned out. You would have been impressed.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?” she asks, walking her fingers along the edge of the bath.
He shakes his head and runs the stocking between his fingers. “It worked better as a demonstration,” he says.
She frowns and narrows her eyes at the black strip of silk in his hands. “Did it involve my stockings?”
“It might have,” he replies, still fingering the material, his thumb moving sensually over the lace at the top.
He has a thing for her in stockings, she knows that. He’s never said a word about it, but there has never been a time when she’s worn them that they haven’t wound up making love, usually with her keeping them on. She indulges him and doesn’t ask questions; the sex is amazing when she’s wearing them. But still she wonders.
She pushes herself up from the bath, water running down her skin and the chill air of the bathroom dotting her skin with goosebumps. Mindful of her slippery feet, she climbs out of the bath, and then takes a few determined steps toward the Doctor.
His eyes widen. “What are you doing?” he asks.
She doesn’t answer him, just takes the stocking from him and runs it between her fingers, much like he was doing moments before. She takes his hand in her free one and manoeuvres him around until she can walk him back to the bath. She guides him to sit down on the edge. She finally gives in to the questioning look in his eyes and speaks. 
“You like my stockings, don’t you, Doctor?” She cups his cheek in her palm and feels a little thrill of satisfaction as he steadies his hands on her hips and leans into her touch.
“Yes,” he answers. She can feel his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.
She doesn’t ask him why, just kneels before him, gathering the stocking in her hands. Before he can question her, she taps his leg and he lifts his foot. Feeling the blush rise in her cheeks, she inches the stocking up his leg, not daring to meet his eyes as she adjusts the lace on his thigh. She reaches behind her to grab the other stocking, but as she tries to put it on him, he stills her with his hand.
“No,” he says, his voice low as he uses his index finger to tilt her chin up, forcing her to look at him. His eyes are dark, but sparkling with mischief. He’s enjoying this. “You.” He takes the stocking from her, stands, and guides her to sit down. 
She looks up at him, and her mouth goes dry. She’s never thought about seeing him like this, but something about him wearing her stocking, something of hers, it does things to her. She lifts her foot for him without his prompting and tries to hold back a whimper as he slides the material up her leg, his fingertips lingering on her skin.
Once the stocking is in place, he moves between her legs, threads his fingers through her hair, and kisses her. She gasps and her hands search for purchase on his back. One of his hands has worked its way under her stocking and the other is wrapped around her lower back. He rises slowly, trying to get them to their feet, but he overbalances and sends them both into the bath, a tangle of arms and legs as water splashes over onto the floor.
She laughs at the shocked look on his face and pulls his head back down to her for a kiss as she adjusts herself to lean against the bath.
“Are you all right?” he asks after pressing his lips chastely to hers.
“I’m fine,” she murmurs, her lips too busy with his neck, her hands too busy with the stocking on his leg to worry about something like whether she’s hurt. She slides her fingers under the lace, wondering if it feels as good to him as it does to her. The low moan in his throat tells her that it does.
She pushes on his shoulders until he leans back and she can climb onto his lap. His stocking scratches her back as he lowers his lips to her breasts. He whispers her name into her skin and she shudders and moves against him. She’s not going to last much longer, and she can tell from the way he rises up to meet her that he’s not going to last either.
“We need to move to the bed.” She forces the words out, distracted by his lips, by the slide of his wet skin. They’ve had sex in the bath before, and while she likes it sometimes, she doesn’t want it tonight. She wants him above her, moving into her, shattering her thoughts until there is only him and her.
He doesn’t move for a few seconds, just continues pressing kisses to the tops of her breasts, but then he stands, lifting her with him. Terror floods her for a moment and she clutches at his shoulders, worried that he will slip and the two of them will crack their heads on the porcelain, but he is steady as he steps out of the bath and onto the floor. She buries her face in his neck and breathes a sigh of relief as he carries her into the bedroom and lays her down on the bed. She’s dripping on the sheets, but she can’t bring herself to care.
“Better?” he asks, standing over her, his eyes wandering up and down her body, dallying on her leg with the stocking.
“Yes,” she says, hooking her leg around his hips and pulling him down to join her on the bed. He catches himself with a hand before he’s sprawled over her. She arches up against him. His fingers hook under the lace of her stocking, and he guides it down her leg at an agonising pace. She wants him, now.
It is easy for her to get him onto his back and kiss her way down his body. As appealing as the stocking is on his leg, she likes the idea of taking it off. She slips her fingers under the lace and meets his eyes and she begins to work it down. His mouth falls open and she bends to kiss the inside of his thigh, her lips following the silk as it reveals his skin. Once it’s free of his foot, she tosses it to the floor and he flips them again, sliding into her without preamble.
And just like it always is with the stockings, the sex is amazing.

Anonymous( )Anonymous This account has disabled anonymous posting.
OpenID( )OpenID You can comment on this post while signed in with an account from many other sites, once you have confirmed your email address. Sign in using OpenID.
Account name:
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.


Notice: This account is set to log the IP addresses of everyone who comments.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.


wishiknewwho: (Default)

January 2012

15 161718192021

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 22nd, 2017 07:59 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios