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It was with some trouble that Rose managed to end the conversation with one of the most senior – and more tedious – members of the Vitex board and his shallow daughter. Depositing her empty champagne flute on the tray of a passing waiter, she made a beeline for the desserts buffet. She never drank more than one glass of champagne on official Vitex business, nursing the drink for as long as possible. In search of the ladies' earlier, she'd taken a wrong turn and caught a glimpse of the chocolatiers at work. The sight alone made her mouth water and she'd decided that she definitely needed to sample the chocolates.
She picked up a small plate and selected a handful of the small brown squares and spheres. Oh, and the one coated in cocoa, and the raspberry-coloured one, and...
“Those are really good,” Pete said, pointing at light brown squares decorated with a white swirly pattern. Rose smiled and picked one up with the tongs provided. “The Doctor seems a bit lost, I'm afraid,” Pete went on to say, selecting several petits-fours from a platter next to the one with the chocolates.
Half a dozen answers came to her mind, but none of them were exactly new to either of them. It was an open secret that the Doctor – still traumatized from his first encounter with the press at the garden party – hated official functions like this, especially the Vitex ones.
“Where is he? I haven't seen him in ages,” Rose asked, putting down the tongs lest she pick up even more of the chocolates.
“Last time I saw him he was sitting in one of the conversation chairs in the conservatory, sipping his champagne,” Pete said. He met Rose's eyes. “I really appreciate he's here, Rose. I really do.”
Rose smiled, nodding. She ran a hand down her silken skirts to smooth the folds, and went to the conservatory. She really should have guessed that he'd choose that spot to escape the crowds for a while. The Doctor was more withdrawn and quiet now that he'd settled into his life with her, at least he was around strangers. With her and her family, he could still be as buoyant as ever. She guessed that his enthusiasm also showed when he was teaching. But whenever they had to attend a Vitex event, he was quiet and guarded. This had certainly done the job and reduced the press' interest in them to an absolute minimum.
The conservatory was a grand Victorian affair, with potted palm trees, oleanders, bougainvillea, and hibiscus. The lighting was dimmer, provided by the candles on a massive chandelier, and candelabra arranged on small tables. It was pitch black outside, the darkness behind the glass reflecting the goings-on inside, blocking a view of the night sky. Only the full moon was clearly visible, creamy yellow, hanging low in the sky, its cold light mixing with the candle lights. Since it was cooler out here than in the ball room, there were quite a few people milling about or sitting in the scattered and discreetly arranged settees and conversation chairs.
The Doctor was sitting by himself, in one of the conversation chairs. His glass was empty, and he was holding it absentmindedly as he looked out into the dark garden. He was wearing a dinner jacket. An unlucky suit, he'd claimed when, hours ago, they'd got dressed in their suite at the charming country hotel hosting the event.
He looked gorgeous in it, maybe even more so because he had that little-boy-lost look, that wistful expression that made her heart constrict.
When she first sat down, he didn't acknowledge her. He was lost in thought, probably solving one of this world's mysteries. She left him to his contemplation, picking up one of the chocolates and put it in her mouth. She let it melt on her tongue, enjoying its silken texture and flavour of freshly roasted hazelnuts.
She wondered just how much longer they'd need to stay at the reception. These functions bored her to tears, always had. It must be even worse for the Doctor who felt so out of place. They had been to receptions and balls before, when they were travelling, and he'd felt comfortable then, because he'd wanted to be there, playing by his own rules. Now he was here because of her, because she had to play a role, slip on a mask, become a Rose he didn't recognise. He'd come to know her nice but boring side, but there must be something about that persona he hadn't figured out yet, something that made him withdraw ever so slightly; something that even she couldn't name.
He roused her from her thoughts when he pressed his lips to the mole on her shoulder. “Hey there,” he said softly, smiling. He trailed the backs of his fingers up and down her bare arm.
Rose picked up the last chocolate, the one with the swirly pattern, and touched his lips with it. When he opened his mouth, she gently nudged it past his lips. He captured her fingers with his lips, nipped and kissed them before releasing them.
Rose shivered. “I was just thinking how delicious these would taste off your skin.” The taste of chocolate was still rich on her tongue. She smiled mischievously as she saw his eyes widen.
“Oh yeah?”
Rose purred, leaning closer towards him, her lips very close by his ear. “I'd put them on your back,” she began. “Place them along your spine. All the way from your neck to your bum. And I'd eat them one by one.”
She cupped the back of his head, threading her fingers into his hair, her lips by his ear. “I'd make sure to get every last bit of chocolate, of course.”
His voice, when he asked, was raspy. “How?”
“Oh,” Rose mused, “I'd have to kiss and lick your skin. Of course, I'd have to tell the real chocolate apart from your chocolate spots. Might take some time.”
“Would you have to use your teeth?”
Having made sure that they were alone, Rose nibbled at his earlobe. “Probably, yeah.” She smiled as the Doctor shivered. Following an inspiration, she let go of him.
The effect was immediate. The Doctor gently framed her face with both hands, and drew her towards him for a kiss to make up for the loss. Her eyes fluttered shut, and as his tongue pushed past her lips, she could taste the cherry filling of the chocolate he'd eaten.
Having broken the kiss, she whispered, “But I'd kiss you better afterwards.” They weren't alone any more, and while the danger of getting caught held a certain appeal, she found that not touching at all was even more erotic. She withdrew a bit, so onlookers might get the impression they were just talking.
“What about my front? You'd have to try them off my chest. Maybe they taste different there,” he suggested, close, but not quite touching her. He seemed to catch on to the rules of her game.
“Or even better?” she suggested. Rose so wanted to brush his light stubble with the backs of her fingers, but played with her fingers instead. “I think I'd start with the indentation at the base of your neck,” she mused, touching her own. His eyes dropped to the spot, and she could tell he wanted to touch her there.
“I wonder which filling would go best with your nipples,” she said, gnawing the back of her thumb. Her eyes met his. They were darkening already, his desire consuming the chocolate in them. “Marc de Champagne. And your bellybutton, I'm sure, would be most delicious with a touch of whisky cream.”
The Doctor's eyes fluttered shut.
“Messy fillings, those are,” Rose went on. “Because I prefer biting the chocolates in half. Mm, licking them off your skin – the taste of them combined with a touch of Doctor. Irresistible.”
“What does Doctor taste like?” he asked, bracing himself on the armrest separating them, rolling his empty champagne flute between his fingers and palms.
Rose licked her lips. “It's a warm and vibrant taste, a bit like pistachios, with a hint of caramel and cocoa. Trace of nutmeg, too.”
The Doctor squared his jaw, nodding.
“The insides of your thighs, just above your knees,” Rose said. “Now that is the perfect spot for marzipan flavoured with cinnamon. Dark chocolate.” She tucked an errant lock behind her ear, uncrossing and crossing her legs, relishing the friction the movement created. The silk parted as she did so, flashing a bit of the creamy lace of her hold-ups. Rose quickly rearranged the folds of her skirt.
“And then I think I'd want to use molten chocolate,” she mused.
“Where?” he asked, shifting a bit in his seat to make himself more comfortable. Glancing at him, she smiled mischievously as she noticed his arousal.
“Hipbones,” she replied. “I'd cover them up, and when the chocolate makes its way to your cock, I'd lick it up.”
“Rose,” he sighed, stilling his busy fingers.
“I'd do the same to your fingers,” she went on, seemingly lost in thought, “suck them clean one at a time, swirl my tongue around them to make sure I don't miss anything.”
“Rose, please,” the Doctor said, his voice low and silken. “Can we go? Now?”
Rose uncrossed and crossed her legs, closing her eyes as she noticed how wet she was. “Don't you want to know what I'd do to your cock?” she asked. She looked at him, met his gaze unflinching. “I'd not cover it up in chocolate. I'd want to taste you, pure, unadulterated you. Because you, my Doctor, are more delicious than anything in the world.”
They held each other's gaze for a moment, the Doctor's unfathomable beyond the lust shining in them. Then, putting the glass on the floor, he stood, closed the button of his dinner jacket and walked around the conversation seat. Holding out his hand for her, he simply said, “Come.”
Rose placed her hand in his and stood. She noticed his gaze travelling up and down her form, taking in the cream silk hugging her curves in the right places, yet at the same time leaving enough to the imagination.
“You're right. It's time to go,” Rose said, smiling.
No one paid them much attention as they left the ball room. Once outside, he knelt before her. He reached under the hem of her skirt to touch her ankle. When she shifted her weight to the other foot, he undid the dainty buckle of her heel and slid it off. He did the same with the other shoe. Standing, he tugged at her hand and they ran down the path towards the converted outbuilding housing their suite.
Breathless, they arrived at their door, and, fumbling with the key card, the Doctor wrapped an arm around her midriff and pulled her towards him. “Can you feel that?” he said, his breath brushing her neck.
His cock was hard against her backside, and Rose pushed her bum against it. “Yes,” she hissed.
The door swung open, and they went in, the Doctor nibbling at Rose's bare shoulder.
“Now,” he said, guiding her, dropping her shoes onto the plush carpet. “I need you now.”
Rose swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. The rules changed, this little game of hers had suddenly become so much more exciting.
He turned her around so he could kiss her. There was still a trace of chocolate left as their tongues danced with each other, but it was soon lost to their own flavour.
“Take off your knickers,” the Doctor said as they separated.
Rose stepped away from him and did as she was told, kicking off the cream coloured pair she'd worn as it dropped to her ankles. The Doctor shrugged out of his dinner jacket, tore at his bow-tie and loosened the top button of his dress-shirt. Rose licked her lips, and closed the distance between them to kiss and lick the hollow at the base of his throat.
The Doctor's head fell back at Rose's caresses, his hands settling on her waist. She undid his shirt more quickly than it had taken him to button it up, and he shuddered as her hands began to roam his chest and stomach and back beneath the fabric.
“Rose, now, I want you now,” he growled, remembering what it was he'd been wanting to do to her. He stepped away from her, leaving her panting, her lips glistening in the cool, dim light. Fiddling with the fastenings of his trousers, he quickly retrieved a condom from his bag. When he returned to her, he backed her up against the wall.
“Here, let me do that for you,” Rose said, taking the foil packet from his trembling fingers. Rose rolled the condom on him once he had taken off his trousers and pants, placing a kiss on his stomach once she was done. The Doctor pulled her up into his arms, kissing her hard. His right hand searched and found its way between the folds of her skirt, travelled down her thigh and gripped the back of her knee. He pulled it up so it rested on his hip.
They broke the kiss, and he rested his forehead against hers. “Ready?”
Unable to speak, Rose nodded. She helped him align himself with her, then wrapped her arm tightly around his back. He sheathed himself in one swift motion. Rose cried out as he filled her suddenly and completely.
“You feel so good, Rose,” the Doctor sighed as he stayed still for a moment. “You all right?”
“Yes,” Rose said, tightening her grip on his back and shoulder. “Fuck me, Doctor. Please.”
“Oh yes,” he grinned. He withdrew to push back into her, lifting her up a bit as he did so, withdrew and pushed, again and again, their breathing adjusting to their movement. “I love you in that dress,” he whispered to her, pushing back into her a little more forcefully.
Rose cried out in reply, her head rolling back. The Doctor kissed the spot beneath her ear, drinking in her scent. “But right now, I want you out of it,” he continued. A thin film of sweat made their skin slick, and Rose began to lose her grip on him.
“No,” Rose moaned, reluctant to let go of him.
“Come on, Rose,” he said, slipping out of her, shrugging out of his shirt. He turned her around to help her with the zip. The dress slid off her in a soft rustle. He dropped to his knees behind her, rolling the hold ups down her legs one at a time.
“You're beautiful, Rose,” he said, standing to claim her mouth for another kiss. He guided her backwards, and when the backs of her knees touched the bed, she drew him down with her.
“Please, Doctor,” she said, opening her legs.
The Doctor's breath hitched. “Say it, Rose. Say it.”
Rose blushed. “Fuck me. Please.”
When he slid into her this time, he did not give them time to adjust. He set a powerful rhythm, bracing himself on his elbows, Rose's leg hooked around his hip. “Touch yourself,” he panted. Rose snaked her hand between their bodies to do as he'd said.
All it took was a few more strokes before he gritted his teeth. “Come with me, Doctor,” Rose moaned, her fingers brushing herself as well as him. “Come.”
Rose's last encouragement was lost as she rode the waves of pleasure washing over her, and the Doctor's cry rang in her ears as he plunged into her one last time before he, too, delved into the waves.
Their breaths mingled as they lay, their foreheads touching, smiling and laughing at the urgency of their lovemaking, allowing their hearts to calm. He brushed back the locks sticking to her damp face as he rolled off her.
“Shame we forgot to bring the chocolates,” he said, trailing his fingers down her cheek.
“Well,” Rose drawled, propping herself up on an elbow. “We could always call room service.”
“And get out of bed?” the Doctor asked, cleaning himself up.
Rose shrugged, tip of tongue tucked between her teeth.
The Doctor leaned in to brush her lips with his, then pinned her down with his body to deepen the kiss.
“Never,” he said when they had to come up, ever so briefly, for breath.
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