The first thing that Rose noticed was how real, how normal she felt. A quick glance down demonstrated that she was still three dimensional, which she had to admit to being grateful for. The grass she stood on, however, was green pencil thrown haphazardly beneath her feet. A sky was being filled in as she watched, blue above her. Only above her. The sky refused to come down and meet the horizon, as if they had fought, and were giving each other the cold shoulder. Between the sky and the ground was a sea of the fabricated yellow that was unique to construction paper. Rose blinked her eyes hard and averted her gaze.
She couldn’t repress the grin that surfaced when a familiar London accent called out her name, though he sounded so close he probably could have whispered. She whirled around just in time to be scooped from the ground and spun in one of the Doctor’s breathtaking hugs. He hummed in contentment against her shoulder, then set her back on the ground, but kept wrapped securely in his arms. Even when he allowed her to pull away, she only moved back far enough to look him in the eye.
“Doctor, I don’t get it,” she began uncertainly. “You look real. You feel real. I think I do, too.” She began uncertainly.
“Yup. All the right curves and protrusions in all the right places,” He chirped. Rose decided not to wallop him one, but only just.
“But the grass, the sky, the yellow is all a kid’s drawing. It looks like a kid’s drawing.”
“That’s because it’s not taken from the real world. You and me and the TARDIS over there,” he threw a thumb back over his shoulder, and Rose peeked behind him to see the familiar blue box. “We’re stuck here, but we used to be out there.” He looked around with a slight frown on his face, “Wherever there is. But if the grass were from the real world, there would’ve been great swathes of it missing from people’s gardens. The Isolus isn’t powerful enough to take something from very far away.”
“So it’s fake.”
“Just colored graphite.” the Doctor agreed with a playful smile. “But don’t worry, this kind won’t attack. I think.”
Grinning, Rose thumped him one. His pout appeared, the one that, though normally fake, never failed to make Rose want to nibble on his lower lip until he granted her access for a proper snog. Pushing that thought away, Rose pulled him over to sit with her, their backs against the slightly humming side of the TARDIS.
“I don’t get it, Doctor,” she said after an eight-bar of silence. “I had just thrown the pod when I arrived here. It was moving like it was homed in on the torch. Shouldn’t we be free by now?”
The Doctor offered a rueful smile. “I’ve been here for ten days,” he told her softly.
Suddenly, Rose recognized the hunger that had been in his hug and his eyes since she arrived. His fingers laced themselves with hers, though she couldn’t tell who he was trying to comfort more. She shook her head softly, not wanting it to be true. How could she have left him alone for so long?
“But it only took a couple hours,” she protested. Knowing her disbelief was in vain, Rose couldn’t bring herself to ask the Doctor if he was sure. One thing the Doctor knew was time. The sad tenderness in his eyes brought tears to her own. She had failed him. “I’m so sorry, Doctor,” she choked out.
For the second time in ten minutes, Rose found herself pressed against the Doctor in a fierce hug. She squeezed him back just as hard, trying to let him know she was here, now, and she wasn’t going anywhere without him. They leaned against the TARDIS and into each other, seeking comfort from both. Rose turned her head to bury it in his jacket.
Surprised to hear him shushing and soothing her, Rose realized that she was crying. The apologies that were whispering into his shoulder were unbidden and genuine.
“It’s not your fault,” he murmured, placing a kiss against her hair. Under normal circumstances, that feather-light touch, that softest of smacking sounds would be enough to cause a shiver to charge down her spine, but now all it did was make her clutch him tighter. “You couldn’t’ve known. And if you got the pod near enough to the torch for it to zero in on it, you’ve saved us all.”
He pulled back just enough to look Rose in the eyes. She could see that he was telling the truth, and mingling with that was affection, but over all of that was a longing that was strangely as familiar as it was new. For a moment, she wondered if it had always been there, lurking. But she decided almost soon as it occurred to her, that it didn’t matter.
She pressed her lips tightly together, and then licked them. The Doctor watched this with a fascination she was sure he’d never shown before. “I wouldn’t…” she began, but trailed off under his scrutiny. “If I’d known, I’d’ve come. I’d have, I don’t know, made her put me in here.”
“But then we’d be stuck,” he reminded her.
“Don’t matter,” she told him with a firm shake of her head. Again she licked her lips, and the way his eyes followed her tongue helped screw her courage to that intangible sticking point. “I wouldn’t leave you alone. Not if I could help it.”
The shocked widening of his eyes was the only warning Rose got, before his lips were on hers, and for a moment she was sure she was dreaming. When he pulled back to search her eyes, to make sure this was okay, Rose knew she wasn’t dreaming. In her dreams, he always knew how badly she wanted him. But his tender uncertainty was what made him who he was, what kept him trying to be better, even though she didn’t think that was possible. And so, his uncertainties made this real, and so much better than a dream.
Almost as soon as he pulled away, Rose pursued him, fusing their lips together so that he need never doubt again, though she was sure he would anyway. Matching her hunger with his own, the Doctor pressed forward, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, and plundering its latest conquest.
Rose shifted her hips so that she was more fully facing him. Supporting herself with one hand, Rose was able to take control of the kiss. She slid her free hand along his jaw and back to spear through his hair. Brushing her tongue along his, Rose was almost tentative in her first exploration of his mouth, his taste, his addictive coolness.
The Doctor groaned when she tickled the roof of his mouth, and the vibrations shot heat through Rose. She’d never hoped that she could have this kind of power over the Doctor. It was a power he seemed to want back. Pushing himself up off the grass, the Doctor pressed Rose back into the TARDIS. She felt like prey must feel when trapped by a cunning lone wolf. That is, if prey found it as hot as she did to have one of his hands on the TARDIS next to her head and the other cupping her hip. His legs straddled hers, and, oh, she could feel his erection against her stomach.
Releasing the waxy grass she’d been clenching in an effort to retain some of her sanity, Rose cupped his crotch, rubbing with only a touch of pressure. The Doctor ripped his mouth from hers to pant hot, wet breaths against her ear.
“Rose,” he groaned. “You’d better be certain before you do much more of that. Time Lords almost never explore their more base urges. Once we get started, it’s almost impossible for us to stop without the risk of losing who we are in the other person until the act is completed if it ever is.” He tenderly brushed her hair back from her face. “It takes a very special person to awaken these feelings in a Time Lord.”
Rose let him have his say, knowing he needed to warn her to soothe his own conscience. But as soon as he was done, she smirked up at him and pressed the heel of her hand into his erection. Her smirk became a full-fledged grin when his jaw went slack, and his eyes lost their focus.
He dropped his head and squeezed his eyes shut to search for control. “I’m,” he panted, “serious.”
Rose tilted his head back up and waited until his eyes opened to meet hers. “So’m I.”
The Doctor froze for a moment, and then he seemed to be everywhere. One hand cradled her head as he tormented her mouth. The other hand slipped beneath her top to cup her breast, flicking her nipples through the flimsy fabric of her bra. His hips ground against her, igniting a need for more contact.
Finding herself lying on the ground with the Doctor’s coat spread out beneath her, Rose began the inevitable wrestle with clothes. It briefly occurred to her that she didn’t know what had prompted him to dispense with the rules and boundaries he’d put in place., rules that she’d always respected, because she couldn’t help but respect him. She’d known he wasn’t ready, maybe never would be ready for a relationship that went beyond a carefully crafted friendship. She tried to ignore that nagging whisper, tried to pretend she didn’t care why this was happening, just that it was happening, but that wasn’t fair. To either of them.
Her hands stilled.
It didn’t take long for the Doctor to notice her sudden lack of participation, and he slowed his own actions, though his thumb continued to occasionally brush her pebbled nipple. “Rose?” his voice was dark with unspoken promises, but it still managed to have a pleading overtone.
Clinging to her determination to not let this go so far that it would break her if this should be something he rejected when they were done, Rose met his eyes. “Why now?”
The Doctor’s eyes were still hazy, but she could see him grasping for focus. “What?”
“I can’t do this if it’s only one time,” Rose said as close to firmly as she could with her heart so prominently on her sleeve.
“No, you precious thing,” the Doctor murmured gently, though his body vibrated with the need to move, to touch. “I’ve been waiting for this, for a time when we couldn’t be interrupted. I figure we’ve got a couple of hours before we’ll get out of here, and there’s no one around. But that’s because I knew that if we were interrupted the first time, it could kill me. After that, I intend to do this as much and as often as you’ll let me.” He pressed a kiss to her lips that she willingly returned. “And I don’t care who we have to say it to.”
Rose beamed up at him, not certain how to respond to that, but feeling that she should say something.
“Doctor, does it need saying?” She was terrified of putting the words out there, that he would realize that he was more than she could ever hope to deserve. Or maybe the Universe would step in and rip them apart, as it kept trying to do. Staring into the Doctor’s eyes, Rose saw her fears reflected back at her, older and more resigned to pain. She decided that if they faced their fears together, there was nothing they couldn’t overcome. After all, they were the stuff of legends.
She smiled up at him, watched him relax. “Doctor, I love you.”
The Doctor’s lips crashed down on hers, and she willingly surrendered to his invasion, giving him everything she had.
“Rose,” he breathed across her lips when he broke the kiss for breath. “Rose, precious girl.” He pulled back to look into the eyes of his wonderful, compassionate, exquisite Rose. Well not his, not that way, not quite yet. She would be soon if either of them got their way.
“Rose, you must know that I love you,” he whispered into the shell of her ear. “Have done, now, for so long.” Whether she shivered from the sensation of his breath ghosting across her ear, or the import of his words, neither could be quite sure, but Rose was certain the way her chest suddenly felt so full and warm was entirely due to what he had just admitted.
Feeling slightly puckish and liberated in a way she’d never been before, Rose let her tongue dart out and tease his earlobe. “Prove it,” she hissed with a smirk. The Doctor, whose hand had never left Rose’s breast, pinched her nipple, grinning when she gasped and bucked her hips up to his.
“You asked for it,” he told her with a dark chuckle.
Rose found herself bared before him from the waist up in one comprehensive movement. Briefly, the Doctor allowed himself a taste of her lips before shifting lower. Gently, he nipped her pulse point and then lapped at it, feeling her heart race beneath her skin. He hovered over her breasts, blowing his hot, wet breath over her already puckered nipples. It wasn’t nearly enough.
The smug look on his face as they hardened further to straining, needy peaks inspired Rose to hold back a whimper. Perhaps because of her restraint, the Doctor didn’t touch her. Rose was kept just aroused enough for her breathing to never even out. She tried to reach for him, but he restrained her hands. The Doctor gave her a look that told her quite clearly that he finally had Rose Tyler topless and at his mercy, and he intended to enjoy every second. He pursed his lips, and the stream of breath sped up, turning cold. Rose shivered beneath him.
“Doctor,” Rose whispered.
“Tell me what you want, Rose.”
“This. You. Everything.” She moaned.
Finally, the Doctor lowered his mouth to suckle the nubs that begged for his touch. Releasing one of her hands, the Doctor cupped her free breast, weighing it before rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Rose speared her hand through his hair, teasing his scalp and caressing his ears. Her fingers trailed down his neck until their progress was hindered by the collar of his shirt.
“Doctor, please, I want to touch you.”
After one last nibble, he released her breast. He sat back, beginning work on his shirt cuffs. Freed, Rose sat up and began to attack the buttons marching down his chest. The Doctor pulled his tie free and tossed it behind Rose, heedless to where it landed, as she wrestled the last two buttons free. Pushing his shirt and jacket halfway down his arms, Rose bent to run her tongue in a hurried trail from navel to nipple and then up to his collarbone. The Doctor became perfectly still under her touch. When she pressed her lips to his, the Doctor began to struggle with his shirt and jacket where they held his arms captive.
Taking pity on him, Rose helped the Doctor extricate his limbs, but when he reached for her, she was a step ahead of him, already pushing him down. The fine hairs that were scattered across his lower stomach tickled her breasts as he licked and nibbled his nipples. A rush of heat flashed through her at the sound he made. It was dark and primitive in a way that had her instinctively moving lower. His belt and trousers were quickly undone. Rose ran a finger along the straining bulge that was separated from her now by only a thin layer of cotton. The Doctor bucked up, her name a hiss on his lips. Rose tried to pull his trousers down, but he wasn’t helping her any.
She crawled back up him to whisper “Doctor, I want you. Now.”
In an instant, Rose was being pressed down onto the ground. The Doctor kissed her fiercely, grinding their hips together. In what felt like a flash, Rose and the Doctor were bared to each other.
Everything stopped. Rose drank in a sight she’d imagined dozens of times. None of those late-night imaginings had done justice to the awe she felt to see her Doctor, naked and straining for the want of her.
“Beautiful.” The Doctor murmured.
They shared a soft kiss, almost chaste in its tenderness. As the Doctor positioned himself at her entrance, Rose felt a whisper at the edge of her consciousness. “Forever.”
“Yes,” she answered, and the Doctor plunged himself inside her. For a moment, they both held themselves still. Rose felt her muscles, which hadn’t been touched by anything other than her own fingers for so long, slowly adjust to the Doctor’s size, though he wasn’t much larger than the average human male. When she was ready, Rose gave the Doctor a nod.
He set up a slow, gentle rhythm, one that filled her nicely with every thrust, but it wasn’t long before she needed more. She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him in tighter.
“Rose,” he groaned against her shoulder. His plunges became faster, harder. The Doctor angled himself above her so that he could fill her completely with every stroke. He brought his hand down to circle Rose’s clit. She bucked against him as fire shot through her veins. She clamped down on him, hard, which only served to make the Doctor to thrust harder, her name a litany on his lips.
“Doctor, please.” She moaned meeting him on every thrust. His finger pressed down harder on her clit and then pinched it. With a shout, Rose came around him. It felt like every muscle she possessed clenched and then broke apart in a glorious release. The Doctor’s thrusts were erratic as he came inside her, his cool sperm shooting out to coat her womb, to cool the fire.
When Rose opened her eyes, whether it was a minute or an hour later, she saw the Doctor’s own warm, brown gaze waiting to meet hers.
“Hello,” he said, cheerfully.
“Hello,” she returned with a sloppy smile. The Doctor had rolled to the side of her and pulled her back so that their hearts beat against each other.
A look of regret flashed through his eyes, and for an instant ice stopped her veins.
“We should get dressed,” he said mournfully. He let his eyes wander lustfully over her body, and Rose felt her blood thaw. “But I wish we didn’t have to.”
“I’m game if you are,” Rose told him with a smirk, running her hand down over his hips to squeeze his bum. The Doctor’s eyes rolled back briefly.
“We can’t. This little universe should disappear in a few minutes. We should be free. I don’t really fancy turning up at the London Games starkers.”
Rose leered. “I dunno, it’d probably boost the ratings. I know I’d watch.”
“Hmmm,” the Doctor agreed. “Quite right, too.” Rose smacked his arm lightly. “But I think we’ve given anyone who happened to look at this particular drawing more than enough of a show, for the two seconds that it appeared out there.”
Rose flushed, and buried her head in the Doctor’s chest.
“Do you think anyone saw us?” she whispered, mortified.
“I doubt it,” the Doctor said as casually as she would expect Jack to talk about voyeurism. “And if they did, I don’t imagine they stuck around. Cartoon smut can’t be very appealing.”
“Cartoon smut?” Rose asked, a bit of fun creeping into her voice.
“What else would you call two child’s drawings going at it like…well, like Time Lords in love?” he asked indignantly.
“Not that.” She told him simply, before clambering to her feet, reaching down to help him up. “C’mon you. My knickers have got to be around here, somewhere. Show me what you did with them.”
Under a blue sky, beyond a yellow horizon, two people admitted their love. Maybe that was the last bit of positive energy that the Isolus’s pod needed to power up, or maybe it was just edible ball bearings on the cake. Either way, one little girl was freed of her loneliness on the same day that Rose and the Doctor allowed their own chains to be broken.
Two people stood before the world that night, an unknown blonde standing next to a lanky man in a slightly rumpled suit. Each had a hand on the sacred torch, and they held onto each with their free hand. As one, they lit the Olympic torch, and signaled for the world to begin their games.