The Song of Yarru, Chapter Four
Dec. 15th, 2008 04:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kalleahPrevious Chapters
Warning: This is a very adult chapter. For those of you avoiding such, you can probably skip it without missing much. For those of you less interested in plot, this could probably be read on its own.
Rose had often kidded the Doctor about his rarely-changing wardrobe, but in truth, he was right – regardless of the garb of the people around them, he did actually seem to blend in. Tonight was no exception, which struck her as particularly funny considering the fact that most of the men had left off their shirts and were dancing barefoot wearing form-fitting leggings. The Doctor, with his jacket, tie, and Chucks, had on more clothing than any five Yarruni men, but no one other than Rose seemed to take any notice.
"Could you really make him grow a beard?" she whispered into Aiku's ear.
"Beard?"
"Hair on his face."
Her friend winked. "Yes. He would want you to scratch it for him. Would you shave it for him too? Could be fun."
Rose grinned and took another small sip of the lovely liquor that the Yarruni made from the sap of the largest trees. It was amber, like dark rum, but not as sweet, and served in wood flutes sanded so smooth and fine that they felt like glass.
The crowd around them shimmered with excitement. In the distance, three huge drums pounded with bass so deep Rose could feel it in her bones. Children had all sorts of musical instruments ranging from cymbals to tambourines to small kettle drums, and rather than producing the chaos that human children might have done, their contributions were rhythmic and melodious.
Rose didn't see any wind or stringed instruments – only percussion – but when the Yarruni began to sing, she quickly remembered that they carried far superior instruments within them. The singing didn't have the power that Anahit and Aiku's work with the tree had, but from what the Doctor said, that was both a unique skill amongst these people and also a carefully controlled effort.
"Aiaiaiaiai," called Anahit, whirling by and catching at Rose's hand. She let herself be towed into the crowd, jumping and spinning with the twins, and promptly dropped her drink.
After a while, the faces blurred around her. Some of it was the drink, but most of her elation was the music and the dizzying pulse of everyone around her. She danced with a number of Yarruni, men and women, all quick to touch her bare arms or her hair. After many partners, she found herself face to face with Cirryon, who seized both her hands and swung her around twice before handing her off to Aiku.
"Are you having fun?" Aiku fairly yelled over the din around them. Her precisely braided hair had come partially undone on one side and flapped as they hopped together.
"Yes!"
"It gets better." With a wink, Aiku pirouetted off into Arri's arms.
When Rose found the Doctor, he wouldn't dance with her, not with the abandon that the Yarruni did, but she did manage to draw him close and sway with him. He looked bemused and fairly well tousled, and she guessed that there had been a lot of hands in his hair during the celebration. The Yarruni were … tactile. She could feel the flower winding its tendrils into her braid for a tighter grip.
"Enjoying yourself?" he asked. She snuggled closer. "I'll take that as a yes."
They watched the crowd around them for a few minutes and the Doctor fed her some hors d'oeuvres. He had, predictably, located the food when she had not. The nibbles were quite tasty, consisting of lots of dried fruit and nuts and some paste that reminded her of marzipan, although it was savoury rather than sweet.
As they ate, adults began to shush at children and bustle them off toward bed, although the older boys standing watch at the fire pit remained. Rose could feel the remaining celebrants tense and scoot closer to one another.
At once, the singing, drumming, and tapping ceased. In the abrupt silence, a single voice ascended. The solitary song evoked all of the longing and loneliness she had felt in her life. Despite the Doctor's closeness, she shuddered to remember how she felt on the other side of that terrible wall from him, the certain knowledge that she would never see him again, never –
The voice became two, and the relief and memories flooded through her: his former face in the dim light of a dungeon in Cardiff; his daft pink paper hat at Christmas; making love with him for the first time in the little monastery cottage; the moment he'd stopped fighting his doubt and realized she had truly returned to him; kissing him in desperation and worry when he travelled to deliver a message to her mum across the Void.
She looked up at him and found him watching her with a wondrous expression on his face – tender, and open, and very proud. So loving. Impulsively, she put her palm against his cheek and smiled when his eyelids dipped and closed in response. Her thumb traced up against his cheekbone and her fingers pressed back over his sideburns, across his ear, into his hair.
When other voices joined in with the first two, she started, having almost forgotten that they weren't in fact alone. The Doctor's eyes blinked open and found hers again. Had he also forgotten, with his constant flickering awareness?
The voices swirled together like dancers, teasing close together and separating gracefully back again. All around them, the Yarruni began to move together in twos or threes. She looked over the Doctor's shoulder and saw Anahit and Aiku with their husband, all three twined in an embrace and in full voice with the other singers. Arri rested his cheek against Aiku's exposed neck as Anahit ran her hands up his bare chest.
Rose flushed with embarrassment and dipped her attention back to her own partner, who didn't seem at all interested in the goings-on around him. "Midsummer," he murmured, turning so that he could kiss her palm. "Mating season. Of course." His skin was warmer than usual, and his eyes were dark and locked on hers. She wound her hand into his hair and tugged him close for a kiss.
His response surprised her with its ferocity. His kisses tended to start slow and gentle and build to intense, but not this one. As the music swelled around them, he angled in to deepen their contact and his tongue darted out along her teeth. He took a half-step closer to her, his hands cupping her bum and pulling her close.
After her initial surprise, she reacted as fiercely as he did. She tightened her grip in his hair with one hand and reached under his jacket to clutch at his back with the other. Her whole body tingled with acute awareness of him and she ached to be closer still. She slid her fingers down and untucked his shirt, allowing her access to the bare skin above his hips.
Someone laughed behind them, and with another start, she remembered once again that they were not alone. "Oh, don't," he whispered as she started to pull away. Without her lips in easy reach, he moved to her neck and she shivered at the wet trace of his mouth against her skin.
"What, do you want to shag right here in the middle of all these people?" She tried to laugh and did at least succeed in detaching herself from him enough to see his face.
"When in Rome," he quipped, eyes wide and innocent. Incongruously, his hands still cradled her bum and she could feel the pressure of each individual finger.
"You can't be serious!" He took advantage of her surprise to rock against her, allowing her to feel how aroused he was. "Oh, God," she whimpered. His lips returned to her neck and sucked enough for her to feel the blood rushing to the spot. She skimmed her hands further up his sides, bunching his shirt up as she went.
"Quite unusual, this single-minded fixation," he murmured.
"What?"
"The urge to … mate. I don't have it unless I want to, but somehow, this song ..." His voice was low, breathy, terribly enticing. "My whole body. I just want …" His nose brushed against her ear and his next words were uttered so quietly that she could almost feel them rather than hear them properly. "You. I want you. Now."
She made a sound in response to this astonishing statement that had him wriggling still closer, if that was possible. "Yes," she finally gasped. "Can we go – somewhere more private?" It was a long way back to the TARDIS, but she wasn't going to perform for an audience.
"Without your little friend?" His fingers tangled in her hair and then he withdrew, bearing the wriggling crotalistria flower in his cupped hand. "Mmm?"
Without releasing her, he steered them to the edge of the platform toward the huts. He gently placed the flower on the rough bark on the outside of one of the huts and Rose saw its tendrils reach out and secure itself in place.
"Cirryon said this one is ours," he said, nuzzling her neck. "Come inside."
As soon as the curtain that served as a door fell back into place, they were entangled, their mouths fixed together and hands wandering freely.
A pair of loud voices directly outside caused Rose to jump in the Doctor's arms and startle back from him. He chased her mouth with his, catching her lower lip and pulling her back.
"They're right there," she gasped between kisses. This wasn't much more private than outside had been, with only the flapping curtain between them and the celebration.
"I guarantee that no one is paying any attention to us," he soothed. His hands traced down her legs to the bottom of her tunic. "They've all got more important things to attend to." His fingers began to draw the garment upward, leaving his thumbs free to trace up her thighs.
Before he had managed to raise it to her hips, the man outside made an agonized sound and the woman gave a brief, sultry laugh.
"We can't," Rose protested, pushing her tunic back down.
The Doctor latched on to her neck again and began to kiss his way up to her jaw. His hands lingered on her thighs underneath the tunic. "I'll be very, very quiet," he murmured against her skin. "Promise."
She let her eyes drift closed and felt him find his way to her earlobe, which he gently teased with the tip of his tongue before drawing it into his mouth. He was very persuasive, and the music had risen again, causing her inhibitions to seem merely … inconvenient. She could guess what was happening: the Tree Singers' song was compelling both of them as much as it was the Yarruni. Did it matter that some mating call was the reason she wanted him so badly right now? They were already lovers. Besides, as he had pointed out, no one was likely to notice what anyone else was doing tonight. And when was she likely to have an opportunity quite like this one again?
To hell with it, she thought, and gave him a friendly shove.
It wasn't enough on its own to affect his balance, but he took the hint and toppled playfully into the cushions, taking her down with him. They were both giggling madly and then kissing, and kissing, and the giggling stopped as the music urged them on and on. He rolled on top of her, stretching his long body against hers. Her legs opened in response and for a helpless few moments, they writhed against one another.
Her tunic had worked its way up her legs on its own and she tried to wiggle out of it without breaking contact. That turned out to be impossible, so after some prodding, he lifted off her as she pulled it over her head. He shrugged his jacket off and then fumbled with his tie and shirt as she removed her knickers and bra. There was enough of the firelight from outside filtering in through the curtain for her to watch, so she draped herself across several cushions and enjoyed the view as he undid his trousers. For his part, he didn't take his eyes off her.
When he was as naked as she, he walked forward on his knees and lay down across her again. The imperative of the music amplified the sensation of his skin against hers, but she felt restless, not quite right, with him atop her. The other way around seemed like a much better idea.
She pushed at his shoulder and he readily rolled onto his back. His whole body spread out below her in offering, with his arms outstretched and his head bent back to expose his long neck. She straddled him, leaning down with her newly long hair falling around her, and kissed him deeply. His hands came up to splay open-fingered across the small of her back. Trying to find the right angle, she squirmed against him and took his cock in hand to guide him inside her.
Yes, this was much better: penetration, free movement, his barely suppressed gasps of pleasure as she rode him. But something still wasn't quite right, and her body compelled her to rise off him.
The Doctor made a needy, confused sound as they separated and tried to reach for her. "Please – I promise I'll be quiet –"
Instead of responding, she turned her back on him and dropped to hands and knees, lifting her hips in an unmistakable invitation. She turned her head to watch him and was gratified when his expression changed from gobsmacked to lustful in an instant. He laid a line of wet, open-mouthed kisses up her spine to her shoulder and then was pressing against her, slipping his cock back inside her, his hands coming to grip her hips.
"Ohh," she sighed with relief, and then it was even better, for one hand left her hip to slide around and allow him to steadily finger her clit as he pumped into her.
They fell into a rhythm with the rising and falling of the entreating song outside, adding their own voices to the music even as they tried to be quiet. Rose rocked back and forth and scooted her knees apart even further, eliciting a beautiful whimper from the Doctor. By now, she didn't care if anyone listened or not.
They had never made love before when she couldn't see his face, and it was both unnerving and terribly exciting. Visual stimuli were replaced by auditory and tactile: the repeated, low grunt from his throat with each thrust; the slightly sticky sweaty contact between her arse and the pointy bones of his hips; his short nails where he clutched at her for leverage; the circling finger of his other hand.
She leaned forward onto her forearms, stretching her back and resting her forehead against the cushions. The Doctor groaned at the change in angle and increased his speed. She focused on bracing herself against the ground and holding her hips high for him. With a pop, he slipped out, and they both gasped. There was an awkward, fumbling moment before he entered her again and resumed his thrusting and stroking.
Her breasts swayed in rhythm to their motion and her forehead rubbed back and forth against the cushion beneath her. They were well and truly into it now; there could have been an audience, an auto-destruct sequence, and a bucket of cold water and she wouldn't have cared.
Her body began to tense around him, tightening and clutching, and he reacted by twirling a second finger around her clit. Behind her, his steady grunts had become puffing ahhs as he forgot (or disregarded) his promise to be quiet.
"Please," she choked out, trying to push back against him.
"Won't stop," he stammered. "Oh, Rose, I won't –"
Her back involuntarily arched as she climaxed, pressing her forehead harder into the ground and her face so deep into the cushion that her outcry was muffled. She bit down on the fabric and rode out the long pleasure of it. A greedy part of her thought I want this again as she finally relaxed into the end of her orgasm.
The Doctor wasn't finished. He seized her hips with both hands and pulled her back onto him, rattling her teeth and making her wish she could see his face. He was panting, probably with his mouth hanging open, still making those desperate sounds and gripping her skin so hard she knew she would have marks. She could no longer hear the song from outside over the hammering of her heart in her head and the sounds that he was making behind her, but she could still feel it – she wanted to go on, and on, and on, and he was doing just that –
To her utter astonishment, her body tensed again, and she felt herself moaning through a second climax, something that had never happened for her before. The Doctor's breath hitched and he let out a relieved shudder that she could feel from all the way within her to where he was pressed against her backside as he came.
They collapsed in a pile onto the cushions. The Doctor, who had slipped from her as they moved, lay with his head in the small of her back and his legs tangled in hers. They might both need chiropractic intervention after this episode, she thought dimly, and turned her head so she wouldn't suffocate herself in the cushion.
"Mmph mmmphed," he mumbled.
"Sorry?" she asked, not moving anything except her lips.
He lifted his head from her back and propped his chin on her left buttock. "I said, they stopped."
He was right. The music was gone. She could still dimly hear the murmur of voices, but it was less noise than she would have heard in any city on Earth.
"That's probably good," she said. His chin was very bony and if she'd had any energy to move, she would have shifted him off her. "Are you comfortable?"
"No, but I'm not sure I can move. Give me a minute." She felt his chin shift from side to side and heard something crack. "Ah, that's better."
With a long breath, he sat up and put his hands on her back, running his thumbs up and down parallel to her spine. The touch wasn't sexual, just comforting. She purred her approval and he pressed down just slightly harder with his thumbs to release her tight muscles.
"'S nice," she mumbled, and yawned. Without the Doctor's body against her, she felt a little cold where the air dried her damp skin. "Is there a blanket?"
"Several."
"Can you keep doing that and cover me up too?"
"Awfully demanding, you are," he chided gently. "Do you have a preference?"
She considered. "Blanket, then get back over here."
He chuckled and moved away. She could hear him rustling around and then he was beside her, nudging her shoulder. Without opening her eyes, she rolled onto her side and drew her hands up underneath her chin. A warm blanket draped over her and she felt the Doctor burrow in next to her. She did open her eyes then and found him watching her, the soft light from outside casting dancing shadows on his beloved face.
"Hello," she said sleepily.
"Hello," he responded.
They drew close together. Rose flung a leg over his hip and he stretched an arm around her waist. He tugged another, smaller cushion nearby and she lifted up her head so they could use it as a shared pillow. At last, they were settled, limbs comfortably intertwined and foreheads almost touching, and she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Five
Warning: This is a very adult chapter. For those of you avoiding such, you can probably skip it without missing much. For those of you less interested in plot, this could probably be read on its own.
Rose had often kidded the Doctor about his rarely-changing wardrobe, but in truth, he was right – regardless of the garb of the people around them, he did actually seem to blend in. Tonight was no exception, which struck her as particularly funny considering the fact that most of the men had left off their shirts and were dancing barefoot wearing form-fitting leggings. The Doctor, with his jacket, tie, and Chucks, had on more clothing than any five Yarruni men, but no one other than Rose seemed to take any notice.
"Could you really make him grow a beard?" she whispered into Aiku's ear.
"Beard?"
"Hair on his face."
Her friend winked. "Yes. He would want you to scratch it for him. Would you shave it for him too? Could be fun."
Rose grinned and took another small sip of the lovely liquor that the Yarruni made from the sap of the largest trees. It was amber, like dark rum, but not as sweet, and served in wood flutes sanded so smooth and fine that they felt like glass.
The crowd around them shimmered with excitement. In the distance, three huge drums pounded with bass so deep Rose could feel it in her bones. Children had all sorts of musical instruments ranging from cymbals to tambourines to small kettle drums, and rather than producing the chaos that human children might have done, their contributions were rhythmic and melodious.
Rose didn't see any wind or stringed instruments – only percussion – but when the Yarruni began to sing, she quickly remembered that they carried far superior instruments within them. The singing didn't have the power that Anahit and Aiku's work with the tree had, but from what the Doctor said, that was both a unique skill amongst these people and also a carefully controlled effort.
"Aiaiaiaiai," called Anahit, whirling by and catching at Rose's hand. She let herself be towed into the crowd, jumping and spinning with the twins, and promptly dropped her drink.
After a while, the faces blurred around her. Some of it was the drink, but most of her elation was the music and the dizzying pulse of everyone around her. She danced with a number of Yarruni, men and women, all quick to touch her bare arms or her hair. After many partners, she found herself face to face with Cirryon, who seized both her hands and swung her around twice before handing her off to Aiku.
"Are you having fun?" Aiku fairly yelled over the din around them. Her precisely braided hair had come partially undone on one side and flapped as they hopped together.
"Yes!"
"It gets better." With a wink, Aiku pirouetted off into Arri's arms.
When Rose found the Doctor, he wouldn't dance with her, not with the abandon that the Yarruni did, but she did manage to draw him close and sway with him. He looked bemused and fairly well tousled, and she guessed that there had been a lot of hands in his hair during the celebration. The Yarruni were … tactile. She could feel the flower winding its tendrils into her braid for a tighter grip.
"Enjoying yourself?" he asked. She snuggled closer. "I'll take that as a yes."
They watched the crowd around them for a few minutes and the Doctor fed her some hors d'oeuvres. He had, predictably, located the food when she had not. The nibbles were quite tasty, consisting of lots of dried fruit and nuts and some paste that reminded her of marzipan, although it was savoury rather than sweet.
As they ate, adults began to shush at children and bustle them off toward bed, although the older boys standing watch at the fire pit remained. Rose could feel the remaining celebrants tense and scoot closer to one another.
At once, the singing, drumming, and tapping ceased. In the abrupt silence, a single voice ascended. The solitary song evoked all of the longing and loneliness she had felt in her life. Despite the Doctor's closeness, she shuddered to remember how she felt on the other side of that terrible wall from him, the certain knowledge that she would never see him again, never –
The voice became two, and the relief and memories flooded through her: his former face in the dim light of a dungeon in Cardiff; his daft pink paper hat at Christmas; making love with him for the first time in the little monastery cottage; the moment he'd stopped fighting his doubt and realized she had truly returned to him; kissing him in desperation and worry when he travelled to deliver a message to her mum across the Void.
She looked up at him and found him watching her with a wondrous expression on his face – tender, and open, and very proud. So loving. Impulsively, she put her palm against his cheek and smiled when his eyelids dipped and closed in response. Her thumb traced up against his cheekbone and her fingers pressed back over his sideburns, across his ear, into his hair.
When other voices joined in with the first two, she started, having almost forgotten that they weren't in fact alone. The Doctor's eyes blinked open and found hers again. Had he also forgotten, with his constant flickering awareness?
The voices swirled together like dancers, teasing close together and separating gracefully back again. All around them, the Yarruni began to move together in twos or threes. She looked over the Doctor's shoulder and saw Anahit and Aiku with their husband, all three twined in an embrace and in full voice with the other singers. Arri rested his cheek against Aiku's exposed neck as Anahit ran her hands up his bare chest.
Rose flushed with embarrassment and dipped her attention back to her own partner, who didn't seem at all interested in the goings-on around him. "Midsummer," he murmured, turning so that he could kiss her palm. "Mating season. Of course." His skin was warmer than usual, and his eyes were dark and locked on hers. She wound her hand into his hair and tugged him close for a kiss.
His response surprised her with its ferocity. His kisses tended to start slow and gentle and build to intense, but not this one. As the music swelled around them, he angled in to deepen their contact and his tongue darted out along her teeth. He took a half-step closer to her, his hands cupping her bum and pulling her close.
After her initial surprise, she reacted as fiercely as he did. She tightened her grip in his hair with one hand and reached under his jacket to clutch at his back with the other. Her whole body tingled with acute awareness of him and she ached to be closer still. She slid her fingers down and untucked his shirt, allowing her access to the bare skin above his hips.
Someone laughed behind them, and with another start, she remembered once again that they were not alone. "Oh, don't," he whispered as she started to pull away. Without her lips in easy reach, he moved to her neck and she shivered at the wet trace of his mouth against her skin.
"What, do you want to shag right here in the middle of all these people?" She tried to laugh and did at least succeed in detaching herself from him enough to see his face.
"When in Rome," he quipped, eyes wide and innocent. Incongruously, his hands still cradled her bum and she could feel the pressure of each individual finger.
"You can't be serious!" He took advantage of her surprise to rock against her, allowing her to feel how aroused he was. "Oh, God," she whimpered. His lips returned to her neck and sucked enough for her to feel the blood rushing to the spot. She skimmed her hands further up his sides, bunching his shirt up as she went.
"Quite unusual, this single-minded fixation," he murmured.
"What?"
"The urge to … mate. I don't have it unless I want to, but somehow, this song ..." His voice was low, breathy, terribly enticing. "My whole body. I just want …" His nose brushed against her ear and his next words were uttered so quietly that she could almost feel them rather than hear them properly. "You. I want you. Now."
She made a sound in response to this astonishing statement that had him wriggling still closer, if that was possible. "Yes," she finally gasped. "Can we go – somewhere more private?" It was a long way back to the TARDIS, but she wasn't going to perform for an audience.
"Without your little friend?" His fingers tangled in her hair and then he withdrew, bearing the wriggling crotalistria flower in his cupped hand. "Mmm?"
Without releasing her, he steered them to the edge of the platform toward the huts. He gently placed the flower on the rough bark on the outside of one of the huts and Rose saw its tendrils reach out and secure itself in place.
"Cirryon said this one is ours," he said, nuzzling her neck. "Come inside."
As soon as the curtain that served as a door fell back into place, they were entangled, their mouths fixed together and hands wandering freely.
A pair of loud voices directly outside caused Rose to jump in the Doctor's arms and startle back from him. He chased her mouth with his, catching her lower lip and pulling her back.
"They're right there," she gasped between kisses. This wasn't much more private than outside had been, with only the flapping curtain between them and the celebration.
"I guarantee that no one is paying any attention to us," he soothed. His hands traced down her legs to the bottom of her tunic. "They've all got more important things to attend to." His fingers began to draw the garment upward, leaving his thumbs free to trace up her thighs.
Before he had managed to raise it to her hips, the man outside made an agonized sound and the woman gave a brief, sultry laugh.
"We can't," Rose protested, pushing her tunic back down.
The Doctor latched on to her neck again and began to kiss his way up to her jaw. His hands lingered on her thighs underneath the tunic. "I'll be very, very quiet," he murmured against her skin. "Promise."
She let her eyes drift closed and felt him find his way to her earlobe, which he gently teased with the tip of his tongue before drawing it into his mouth. He was very persuasive, and the music had risen again, causing her inhibitions to seem merely … inconvenient. She could guess what was happening: the Tree Singers' song was compelling both of them as much as it was the Yarruni. Did it matter that some mating call was the reason she wanted him so badly right now? They were already lovers. Besides, as he had pointed out, no one was likely to notice what anyone else was doing tonight. And when was she likely to have an opportunity quite like this one again?
To hell with it, she thought, and gave him a friendly shove.
It wasn't enough on its own to affect his balance, but he took the hint and toppled playfully into the cushions, taking her down with him. They were both giggling madly and then kissing, and kissing, and the giggling stopped as the music urged them on and on. He rolled on top of her, stretching his long body against hers. Her legs opened in response and for a helpless few moments, they writhed against one another.
Her tunic had worked its way up her legs on its own and she tried to wiggle out of it without breaking contact. That turned out to be impossible, so after some prodding, he lifted off her as she pulled it over her head. He shrugged his jacket off and then fumbled with his tie and shirt as she removed her knickers and bra. There was enough of the firelight from outside filtering in through the curtain for her to watch, so she draped herself across several cushions and enjoyed the view as he undid his trousers. For his part, he didn't take his eyes off her.
When he was as naked as she, he walked forward on his knees and lay down across her again. The imperative of the music amplified the sensation of his skin against hers, but she felt restless, not quite right, with him atop her. The other way around seemed like a much better idea.
She pushed at his shoulder and he readily rolled onto his back. His whole body spread out below her in offering, with his arms outstretched and his head bent back to expose his long neck. She straddled him, leaning down with her newly long hair falling around her, and kissed him deeply. His hands came up to splay open-fingered across the small of her back. Trying to find the right angle, she squirmed against him and took his cock in hand to guide him inside her.
Yes, this was much better: penetration, free movement, his barely suppressed gasps of pleasure as she rode him. But something still wasn't quite right, and her body compelled her to rise off him.
The Doctor made a needy, confused sound as they separated and tried to reach for her. "Please – I promise I'll be quiet –"
Instead of responding, she turned her back on him and dropped to hands and knees, lifting her hips in an unmistakable invitation. She turned her head to watch him and was gratified when his expression changed from gobsmacked to lustful in an instant. He laid a line of wet, open-mouthed kisses up her spine to her shoulder and then was pressing against her, slipping his cock back inside her, his hands coming to grip her hips.
"Ohh," she sighed with relief, and then it was even better, for one hand left her hip to slide around and allow him to steadily finger her clit as he pumped into her.
They fell into a rhythm with the rising and falling of the entreating song outside, adding their own voices to the music even as they tried to be quiet. Rose rocked back and forth and scooted her knees apart even further, eliciting a beautiful whimper from the Doctor. By now, she didn't care if anyone listened or not.
They had never made love before when she couldn't see his face, and it was both unnerving and terribly exciting. Visual stimuli were replaced by auditory and tactile: the repeated, low grunt from his throat with each thrust; the slightly sticky sweaty contact between her arse and the pointy bones of his hips; his short nails where he clutched at her for leverage; the circling finger of his other hand.
She leaned forward onto her forearms, stretching her back and resting her forehead against the cushions. The Doctor groaned at the change in angle and increased his speed. She focused on bracing herself against the ground and holding her hips high for him. With a pop, he slipped out, and they both gasped. There was an awkward, fumbling moment before he entered her again and resumed his thrusting and stroking.
Her breasts swayed in rhythm to their motion and her forehead rubbed back and forth against the cushion beneath her. They were well and truly into it now; there could have been an audience, an auto-destruct sequence, and a bucket of cold water and she wouldn't have cared.
Her body began to tense around him, tightening and clutching, and he reacted by twirling a second finger around her clit. Behind her, his steady grunts had become puffing ahhs as he forgot (or disregarded) his promise to be quiet.
"Please," she choked out, trying to push back against him.
"Won't stop," he stammered. "Oh, Rose, I won't –"
Her back involuntarily arched as she climaxed, pressing her forehead harder into the ground and her face so deep into the cushion that her outcry was muffled. She bit down on the fabric and rode out the long pleasure of it. A greedy part of her thought I want this again as she finally relaxed into the end of her orgasm.
The Doctor wasn't finished. He seized her hips with both hands and pulled her back onto him, rattling her teeth and making her wish she could see his face. He was panting, probably with his mouth hanging open, still making those desperate sounds and gripping her skin so hard she knew she would have marks. She could no longer hear the song from outside over the hammering of her heart in her head and the sounds that he was making behind her, but she could still feel it – she wanted to go on, and on, and on, and he was doing just that –
To her utter astonishment, her body tensed again, and she felt herself moaning through a second climax, something that had never happened for her before. The Doctor's breath hitched and he let out a relieved shudder that she could feel from all the way within her to where he was pressed against her backside as he came.
They collapsed in a pile onto the cushions. The Doctor, who had slipped from her as they moved, lay with his head in the small of her back and his legs tangled in hers. They might both need chiropractic intervention after this episode, she thought dimly, and turned her head so she wouldn't suffocate herself in the cushion.
"Mmph mmmphed," he mumbled.
"Sorry?" she asked, not moving anything except her lips.
He lifted his head from her back and propped his chin on her left buttock. "I said, they stopped."
He was right. The music was gone. She could still dimly hear the murmur of voices, but it was less noise than she would have heard in any city on Earth.
"That's probably good," she said. His chin was very bony and if she'd had any energy to move, she would have shifted him off her. "Are you comfortable?"
"No, but I'm not sure I can move. Give me a minute." She felt his chin shift from side to side and heard something crack. "Ah, that's better."
With a long breath, he sat up and put his hands on her back, running his thumbs up and down parallel to her spine. The touch wasn't sexual, just comforting. She purred her approval and he pressed down just slightly harder with his thumbs to release her tight muscles.
"'S nice," she mumbled, and yawned. Without the Doctor's body against her, she felt a little cold where the air dried her damp skin. "Is there a blanket?"
"Several."
"Can you keep doing that and cover me up too?"
"Awfully demanding, you are," he chided gently. "Do you have a preference?"
She considered. "Blanket, then get back over here."
He chuckled and moved away. She could hear him rustling around and then he was beside her, nudging her shoulder. Without opening her eyes, she rolled onto her side and drew her hands up underneath her chin. A warm blanket draped over her and she felt the Doctor burrow in next to her. She did open her eyes then and found him watching her, the soft light from outside casting dancing shadows on his beloved face.
"Hello," she said sleepily.
"Hello," he responded.
They drew close together. Rose flung a leg over his hip and he stretched an arm around her waist. He tugged another, smaller cushion nearby and she lifted up her head so they could use it as a shared pillow. At last, they were settled, limbs comfortably intertwined and foreheads almost touching, and she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Five
