rude_not_ginger | AU RP for ambitious

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AU RP for ambitious_woman

Illness

A Time Lord shouldn't be separated from his TARDIS. He knew this, it was a fairly simple, fairly straightforward rule that every Time Tot was taught back in the nursery. Time Lord and TARDIS were connected, part of a whole, part of a sum and all that. There were horror stories that Ushas used to tell over nightcom about Time Lords who had been without their ship for long periods of time and went insane, or worse. The "worse" was, of course, described in accurate, gruesome details, much to the 'ooooh'ing and 'aaaahhh'ing of those listening in.

The Doctor just never believed he'd be on the end of that sort of experience.

His ship was a lifetime away. More than that, lifetimes away, and he could feel it. He could feel the lack of a ship in his mind and it ached. More than ached, it was as if a large part of him was missing and he'd only just lost the anesthetics keeping the sensation of missing away.

He had meant to do a good deal today, most of which involved bothering the cook into frying chips and rewriting Reinette's library. These were his main plans, and they were good ones.

As it was, he was curled up on the floor of his bedroom, the shakes and stomachache from the night before having finally decided that his lack of response on the matter was unacceptable. He cried out sharply, a noise that only vaguely sounded human, and may have been a name.

"Reinette!"

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Through the length of her gown, Reinette felt her leg graze the edge of her bed, and it was enough to cause her to lift her mouth slightly from the Doctor's own. It caused the strangest sensations within her, and that gave her pause as well. There was more air now. Breathing should be easier. And yet somehow? It was not.

She was a woman accustomed to control, to command, and to decision. She worked devotedly to gain the power she had over her own life, and there was little that might cause her to release it. She knew her world must seem rather small to to the man whose touch was causing disruptions against her skin. But to her? It was a challenge met.

Yet is was often the challenge met. Her marriage was arranged, but a step Reinette understood. Louis? Yet again, Reinette initiated their involvement. Even the lovers that counted the days after her relationship with Louis concluded, and the Doctor arrived? Agaian, at Reinette's decision.

In the Doctor's arms, Reinette felt the singular sensation of being chosen herself. He came once on accident, yes. But she told herself, he did not have to come back.

And yet, he did.

Her gaze lifted from his mouth to the whole of his features, assuring herself this is what he wanted.

He was slightly startled when he felt her pause against the bed. Not for her pause, but for the realization that they'd moved there so quickly. Was it not moments ago they were only just crossing the threshold of her bedroom?

"Courting for Time Lords takes centuries," he said, his voice low, "And I'm very, very inexperienced in it, in general. Expressing...anything, really."

He didn't pull away, instead, leaned forward, pressing a small kiss to her eyebrow.

"We have so much time---well, I have so much time, it's hard to simply do what I want, or ask or say something. It's easier to think there'll be another day."

Her gaze slanted downward, a pleasured reaction to the feel of his lips traveling across her skin. Eyes caught the gleaming handle of the shears again, and Reinette considered handing them to the Doctor, even then.

For all of the softer, more tender moment they had made, in many ways Reinette knew they were battered, bruised, and ruined for a great many tasks that day. Why it seemed they were not ruined for this she did not know, just that it neemed natural. If not right.

That judgment would be passed later.

But thei clothing was good for nothing else, and for Reinette the sheers represented effectiveness, directness. The could cut away at clothing no longer suitable for the life they lead. And the Doctor could cut away at restrictions she knew he still resented, corsetry they still argued over.

And on the other side?

Well, that was where the bed would be. Still there, just against her leg. It her head it was the most pleasant of adventures. She placed a firm kiss to the underside of his jaw.

"My life at court was expected to be measured in months, if not days. Everyone watching, and waiting for my fall from favor, and grace. But I was better than they anticipated. I was as good as I knew. I was very, very experienced."

Her mouth found his collarbone, ascot gone.

"I lived a lifestyle meant to be measured in days, and I forced every bit of life imgainable into it. I never stopped, I never rested. There was never time. I still am not accustomed to the idea."

It was a collision of ideas, as much as bodies, Reinette decided.

"But if we are to meet in the middle," her eyes drifted to the bed. "Then that certainly is an education place to do so."

There, the invitation she had not repeated since the gazebo, laid bare.

He wasn't a human, and expressing or even feeling emotions was much, much different for him than for her or any other creature he met on the planet he was trapped in. But, for all their differences, Reinette seemed to understand him, and that...it was something more seductive than any other woman could ever offer him.

His eyes closed at the feel of her lips against his jaw, his collarbone. His hypersensitive nerves could feel the smoothness of her lips, how they were warm and slightly swollen from kissing his before. He wished to savor the feeling, memorize it. Actions were so brief and moments so fleeting, but he could remember them all, and he would. Long, long after France was dust.

He nodded, very slowly. "I would meet you whereever you desired," he said, simply.

Her mouth returned briefly to his own, to perform a different sort of dance. Beyond his unique taste there were additions. Sweat, and renewed sorry. Blood, possibly from when his jaw had struck the floor. But Reinette was no more capable of turning away from those, than she was of turning away from him. The kiss deepened.

She was not seeking to pusnish him. Nor did she wish for utter dominance. Rather, it was assurance she seemed to be probing for. There was nothing more calculated than that in her wish for him to speak his mind on this matter. For all that their courtship may had been achingly slow to Reinette? She could only begin to fathom how reckless it seemed to him.

She turned to sit on the bed, eyes never breaking with the Doctor's own.

"And I will only allow you to meet me, if it is what you desire as well."

His eyes stayed locked with hers, and he moved to sit next to her. He wanted more time. More time to practice saying things, to know he wouldn't say something stupid or foolish or improper, to learn about courting and romance.

But there was no time. He nearly died that evening, if not for Reinette, and that would've been the end of his time, having never known if they could've...if they would've...

"I believe," he said, gently brushing his fingers along her cheek, "That I have wanted y--wanted...for a long time, now."

She had spent the sum of nearly twenty years wanting him. Indeed, loving him. And Reinette had assumed that it was past the point of saying. The surely, they Doctor must know. But perhaps he needed to hear it as well.

Perhaps? That was something that was universal.

She tilted her head so that the fingers that caressed her cheek were now in turn brushed gently against her mouth. She kissed each and every finger in turn, gently loving the bruises that were there.

"I want you," she surmized simply.

I case he had not known.

He knew. Of course he knew. All the time together, all the connections, all of the searching for his own desires in her, well, it was hard not to know.

Hearing it, however, changed something. He couldn't tell what, but it made the idea more powerful. More real and solid and there. No future tense to her words, only the present and the now."

He took a breath. "And I w-want you."

It had been so long, so very, very long since he'd uttered those words to anyone, he was almost unsure of his own ability to say them. To express affection (love?). He leaned forward, then, pressing his mouth to hers, as a demonstration of his renewed abilities.

The bed welcomed them, enveloping them deeply into the piled sheets and coverings, the Doctor's kiss perhaps slightly more insistent than Reinette had anticipated.

But she was a woman whose expectations were rarely exceeded. The man in front of her one a rarity in his abilities to do so.

There was another declaration of course. One made of precisely the same amount of letters, but carrying even more implications. That, Reinette chose to leave unsaid. Understood, if he chose to seek it.

Her fingers found the buttons of the Doctor's shirt instead, undoing them slowly even as the kiss became something less controlled. Something less understood.

She worked to unbutton his shirt, and he obliged her, letting the garment fall from his shoulders as it was unbuttoned.

His own fingers slipped to her back to undo her corset. He was more practiced with the garment now than their first time together, and he undid the knot and began to unlace without breaking their kiss. He was pretty proud of his own abilities, though he figured saying so, or expecting a compliment would ruin the moment.

He smiled against her lips as he felt the corset loosen its unnatural hold on her body. "Have I mentioned," he murmured, pulling back just enough to speak, "What this does to your internal organs? Should be outlawed."

Before she could reply with a retort that would probably be wittier than his, he kissed her again.

She had been about to inform the Doctor that if anything was having an impact on her insides in that moment, it was most certainly him. But before she could do she he silenced her with a kiss with no small amount of skill.

It was that way with the Doctor, Reinette knew. Knew, and enjoyed. There was desire, and desire. There was the swirling warmth, the tendrils that curled through her that made her feel rather like a cat stretching slowing towards a ray of sun. Caressed by the very action of it. Her body streched, free of restrictions and the very act of breathing was sensual.

But then there was the other desire. The Doctor's desire. To know. To explore and to be. That never went away with him. And Reinette did not wan t it to.

She moved to free him competely of his shirt, allow then allowing fingers trace rivers against his chest.

Her skin, so much warmer than his, felt like a hot knife along sheets of ice. She melted him, cut long, smooth grooves along his very existence, and he could not stop her, even if he'd wanted to.

He let out a small gasp against her mouth at the sensation.

He slipped the straps from her gown down her shoulders and placed several kisses along her skin. She was sweat and powder, a combination of exertion and sophistication, which, he realized, was probably the perfect combination for a woman like Reinette.

For all the Doctor's distractions -- rather, for all the countless things that caught his attention in a single day? In an hour? Reinette was not sure if she had ever felt more completely explored, and known, then when under the mistrations of his hands, and eyes, and mouth.

He grazed sensative skin just below her shoulder and Reinette gasped softly, her hands tangling in his hair. He had started to grow it, just as he said he would. And now that only left more mahogany silk for her fingers to get lost in.

Of course arms placed so made it rather difficult to remove the bodice of her down, so she hesitated only long enough to encourage it to travel forward, and away.

It was a choice in reluctancies. He was reluctant to move away, but reluctant as well to stop the removal of her bodice. Well, he had to pick one, and the bodice leaving was probably for the best.

Removed, he returned to holding her close, slowly lowering them both down to a laying position on the bed. His mouth sought out the place on her shoulder that made her gasp before, and he traced his tongue, slowly, against it.

Her fingers in his hair, the smell of her, sight of her skin, and her taste, all the sensations were, really, a bit overwhelming. Far from a bad thing, he decided, and Reinette was someone he really didn't mind finding himself lost in.

As clothing slipped away Reinette was faced with the oddest sense of competing with herself. To be specific, herself at age twenty three, not so far removed from the Doctor's past. She was no longer so young, and that must be clearly evident.

She was on the verge of kissing him to distract him from just that point, when his mouth remet the sensative flesh of her shoulder. The deliberation in which he traced his tongue against it sent a shiver down the length of her body. Once of marked anticipation.

Now unhindered by clothing, her own tongue traced slow circles as they returned to just above his hearts. She kissed above each slowly, pausing to blow a teasing breath against the mouisture that clung there.

Her age hadn't diminished her beauty, especially not in the Doctor's eyes. It was not often he found himself attracted to someone, even less often that he acted on those attractions. Reinette was unique, and he doubted she realized how her age or whatever imperfections she imagined she had meant so very, very little to him.

His eyes closed at the feel of her lips above his hearts. She marked little moisture-kisses above each, and he felt them seep through his skin. She was branding him, effectively, and he doubted she realized that, either.

As she kissed him, he deftly removed the pins from her hair, letting the strands she held so tightly fall across her shoulders and back. Wild, natural, and very human. He loved to see her like that.

Her hair surrounded them both, and Reinette was forced to laugh.

"You are getting far, far to skilled at that," she informed the Doctor in tones that could mistaken for nothing else but a compliment. Her hair remained a vanity. Unpowdered and uncut in favor of wigs, it still remained much like the masks she wore. Very few truly saw it.

Suddenly, Reinette very -- light. Unrestricted and unconfined. As if a great many things were possible. She moved to kiss the Doctor again, her body slowly sliding upwards against his own and she savored the sweet friction that created.

"It is a skill I'd like to practice more often," he replied, tangling his fingers in her hair, "Seeing you as you are."

He caught her lips briefly, then moved his mouth down to kiss her throat, his tongue tasting the sweat of her skin and his mind memorizing every pore, and every reaction his kisses evoked from her.

The skirt, he decided, also needed to be rid of. While he kissed her neck, he lowered one hand to the band of her skirt. He did remember how to undo this, didn't he?

"You see a great deal," she countered, the sound somewhat lost against his skin. But her tones, as always, were cut and clear, and the meaning managed to bleed through. "More than most."

More than anyone

It was the truth, and something that Reinette imagined the Doctor would prefer to hear. But if it was in his nature to see her so, then it was also her hers not to reveal every hand at once. She had no patience with cards, but she played the game very well.

Of course, half dressed and hair tangled so? Even more, with the events from the morning between them? It made it that much more difficult to hide.

Her fingers moved to trace along his abdomen, pressure both teasing and inconsistent.

They were a study in opposites, the Doctor decided, as his fingers undid the tie on the skirt and he worked to slide it from her hips. She was human, he was alien. He was boyish and thin, she was mature and svelte. She was exceptionally skilled in the art of seduction, he was, even in his 900 years, still a novice. He was adept at speaking his mind and destroying rules, she was one for hiding thoughts and actions until the perfect moment.

And yet, there they were. Holding each other, nothing but emotion and connection binding them. How strange it was that they'd made it to this moment.

His breath caught at her fingers on his abdomen, at the sensation her light touches could cause.

They were so close now.

So close that everything he was translated into fractions. The curve of an eyelash. A tousled lock of hair. The skin along his cheek. Her teeth tracing along the Doctor's shoulder. It was impossible to take in the entire picture all at once, but it was there. Fractions of her Doctor. Parts of the whole.

Only, he was not. The events of that morning remained stark and clear, denying the wholeness that might be at the end of this particular journey.

and yet the man that was stretched beneath her still was still both fuller, and deeper than nearly anyone else Reinette had encountered in the whole of her life. She kissed him again, mouth probing and tasting the layers there, hands slipping across skin and underneath clothing to ease more of it away. There was so much to see and know and learn and touch and taste. So much of him. She might never know it all.

Yet that was part of the seduction.

His hands slipped up her back, tracing bare skin as he slid her skirt off. Hips and leg were suddenly very avaliable to touch, and it had been such a long time (or a short time, depending on how he looked at it) since he'd been able to touch her, before.

"Reinette," he murmured against her ear. He was pretty sure he had something very witty or seductive to say, but he hadn't the faintest idea what. Instead, he resumed placing kisses along her pulsepoint, tracing them along her jaw, and back to her mouth.

So much was developing. He'd lost his past, and gained a lover, and fallen rather deeply into this world he'd trapped himself in. In that moment? He wouldn't have traded it.

"That is my name, yes," Reinette murmured, knowing that such was only partially the truth. The name was an old one, a childhood fancy of her father's. It was still fresh, and treasured, which she boldly shared it with the Doctor. Yet now, as a woman, no one else called her by that except him.

But with the Doctor, she could be no one else but Reinette.

She moved to a sitting position, hips brushing his own as she studied him through the filtered light. Nails traced over skin as she wondered if this was what fifteen years must feel like for everyone. She caught his hand, fingers lost into the warm corner of her mouth? And that? Is it what they years should taste of?

Or what it just them.

He smiled at her response, tasting the words against her mouth. Always had an answer, Reinette did. There wasn't any other way he'd want her, he decided. Herself.

He looked up at her and traced a hand down her form. Reinette. The reason for being trapped and the reason he was still alive, all in one neat, rather lovely package. There were days he wanted to blame her for his being trapped, but they were fewer and farther between as they stayed together, and she continued to save him in return.

He lifted himself up to embrace her again, and pressed a kiss to the skin above her heart.

He sat up as well, and they were pressed together, entwined. Skin touching skin in new and unknown ways. His mouth across her chest and Reinette could only shiver. After all, one may kiss Madame de Pompadour's cheek, her hand or her wrist. Even the flush of skin above the bodice of her gown. But she was so rarely without the finery and trappings of court life.

But here she was exactly that -- without. And with him all at once. And though Reinette was not sure if she entirely agreed with the Doctor's objections to her clothing? She did know she much preferred the way his fingertips brushed over her ribcage than any silk she had yet to discover.

AU RP for ambitious_woman

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