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rabid1stACK...Chapter 22 was too long for one post...so here is part 2 of part 22...
...does that make this Part 23? Maybe! But I think of this as one, obviously wordy, chapter.
GO HERE FIRST...before reading on and read the beginning of the chapter...you need it to know what's happened there...before you will understand what's happening here...
Now...begins the overkill of warnings...all who pass this point beware...
STOP!!
DO NOT START READING UNTIL YOU'VE READ THE FIRST HALF OF CHAPTER 22
Read Part ONE and then come back to this part...
He glanced up and, flashing an impudent grin, caroled, “Hello!”
Rose would have called him something nasty, if he hadn't been shimmering. All along his chest and back, the mantle of arousal bristled. The moving tapestry of desire never failed to mesmerize her. And for so long, she'd been blind to it. In the beginning, everything had happened so fast and this display had been hidden under layers of clothing. The Doctor's arousal had manifested for her as a hundred needle sharp darts firing neurotoxins into her skin. Her earliest experiences with this mantling phenomenon had been brief shots of pain, followed by the drugged haze of his aphrodisiac. But now, she could see all of his sexual arousal signs. He'd learned to trust her, and himself. And she'd learned to see him as he was--alien, but extraordinarily beautiful in full mating display.
He was like an anemone, her Doctor. Most like that, she supposed, with his venomous darts bristling. Stray ions, dust particles in the air, even her pheromones, acted like ocean currents might on the tiny hair-like projections. In the presence of his true companion, the Doctor's cnidocytes danced. They stirred and swayed, creating intricate and beautiful patterns. The specialized cells she'd once thought of as a random collection of goosebumps or prickly little harpoons, Rose now thought of as enticing. This display was for her alone, his life mate. If she blew on his skin, or even thought about touching him, he responded. His skin rippled and, as he'd showed her via the TARDIS photo lab, also emitted colors and other high spectrum energies. He let her hear the music via their telepathic link.
And then there was his sex.
Her gaze was inexorably drawn to it as he stepped free of his trousers. It had blooming open a bit and the sight set Rose's mouth watering. She licked her lips, slowly, seductively; thrilled when his display changed. The pleasure he could give her in full flower surpassed even the wonders of their mental union. But, she knew better than to rush this. She approached him cautiously. He hadn't been exaggerating about how dangerous this was. His kind mated violently. Gallifreyan males were a stealthy lot. After enticing a partner in with an arousal display, they were programmed to tackle her, striking without warning. A Gallifreyan female, injected with neurotoxin was still strong enough to respond or recoil, depending on her level of psychic compatibility with her would-be mate.
But, naked and telepathically defenseless, a human female stood no chance. If the Doctor hit her with even a fraction of the toxic load he would use on one of his own kind, Rose would be comatose for a week. Mutual physical pleasure depended on the dance, on Rose being his true companion. She needed to commune with him psychically, let him know she was prepared to accept him. And she could do that now. The connection was strong enough, she was strong enough. Which meant he was free to display for her, free to experience his full sexuality. He held a hand up, palm out, facing her and she mirrored him. They touched at the fingertips, then at the palm, still standing two arm's lengths apart.
His eyes glittered like cut crystal as they focused on hers. She stroked him with her mind, drawing imaginary fingers along his shoulders, and down across his chest. The skin there swirled and the Doctor sent a resonating hum into her head. He continued to sing, even as he hissed his next breath through clenched teeth. Rose hummed, too, and watched him fight off the urge to put her down.
His mouth opened and closed, but he had no words for what he wanted. He flashed her the impression of it and her nipples hardened even more, throbbing in anticipation. Catching and holding his gaze, she very slowly shifted her fingers, sliding them against, and then inbetween his. When she tightened her grip, he broke eye contact, head tipping back as he groaned. Rose glanced down and saw he was ready for her. She tugged him forward as she sank onto the end of the bed.
You're so beautiful. she told him again, mind to mind. “Perfect,” she said, softly popping her p and t. Her exhalation curled around his orchid-like member, stimulating it to full bloom.
It reached for her lips, depositing a feather-light kiss with its delicate petals. Sighing, she closed her eyes and opened her mouth, surrounding her Doctor in the moist heat he craved. Invited to explore, he touched her ear, caressed her throat and fluttered over her eyelids. When the thousands of little tongues started to vibrate, the singing in her head became a chorus, urging her to lie back on the bed. She settled into a completely receptive position, knees up, heels braced wide as she relaxed onto her bent elbows.
His first pass over her belly went all the way down, into the slick valley between her legs. The surge of bliss nearly stopped her heart. She gasped as it slammed into her ribcage and cried out before she could stop herself. A moment later she thought she heard an answering call from just outside the room door.
The door was only partially closed and under any other circumstance Rose would have investigated such a noise. But her current state of psychic overload left her very little synaptic leeway to harbor suspicions. Her brain was busy cataloging a deluge of alien sensations. Lit up inside, blood and bone on fire, she could only pray for reference points for most of the incoming sensory data. Delicious tremors zigzagged through her. She could see the radio waves and microwaves in the air around her. Sound had texture. That was him, she knew, his senses overlapping hers.
Rose had never used drugs but she imagined tripping on something wildly hallucinogenic must feel this way. She could taste the Doctor's thoughts. Her nervous system had no means to process his feelings and impressions. It had red-lined at the outer limits of pleasure, one chemical reaction short of a meltdown.
And then, the Doctor kissed her.
It was a sweet, simple kiss, but the touch helped her orient on him, on what he was doing above her. His mouth was wondrously compliant, adapting to her purely human need for a physical connection. Lips, soft on hers, brought back an awareness of her body. Tender kisses, coming one after another, awakened her to a shivering need. She needed to arch under him, press into him. Oh, she wanted to fuck him, now. She wanted a hard, slick ride and knew he wanted one, too. A sweet pang coiled around her heart. Her abdominal muscles tensed taut enough to quiver. And it became crystal clear that no matter how alien, how cerebral, this encounter seemed, it was still sex. They both panted and shuddered and Rose came.
Mind-to-mind, he absorbed her climax, making it his. But something was blocking him from his own release. Rose pressed for the reason and caught a glimpse of a swirling void, but he shunted the image away from her. She scraped her nails down his spine, opened her mind to him and encouraged him to give in to the avalanche of sensations bombarding them both. She wanted him to come for her, chanted for it in his head: Go on. Go on. Jump. Fall. Love, mine, let me catch you.
With a mindless growl, he rose to his knees above her. His fingers locked around her wrists and he dragged her hands up over her head. Then, he shifted his legs, straddling her hips. The straddling no longer seemed wrong to her, it was so very right. Everything they did together felt perfectly natural to her. He wanted to hold onto her, needed that. He needed to make it perfectly obvious she was his. No enemy, no rival, could claim her or steal her from him, because they were one mind, one form.
They caught and kept a rhythm, rocking the bed until its springs squeaked. She pushed him to climax, shoving him into the bright sun at the center of her mind. When he came, when the white light of his soul rocketed through her, Rose rode with him all the way down into the black. They slumped into one another, their bodies curling into a yin and yang circle.
Lying content in the Doctor's arms, Rose waited for her heart rate to slow. She drifted towards sleep, listening to the repetitive sound of the Doctor's breathing, happy he'd found rest. In the distance, she could hear traffic racing along the highway. Nearby, there were muted voices, but it was still too quiet. It took her a moment to realize what was missing. There was no satisfied hum from the walls of her room, no TARDIS to tuck reality in around them and bid them sweet dreams.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Are you sure you'll be alright while I'm gone?” Rose murmured, cutting her glance toward the living room, where her mother sat watching Coronation Street. “My mum's still acting odd. No bickering. No yelling. I don't want to leave her alone.”
“She won't be alone, will she? I'm here. And Sarah Jane is expecting you.”
“You could go,” Rose suggested, half-heartedly. “Give her my regards.”
Her marked lack of enthusiasm for this plan, told him he had chosen the right bait to remove her from the house. “Oh, I don't think I could.” He swept a hand across his nape, peering up at her, as he said, “All those...memories.”
Rose sighed, knowing he was right. She wasn't jealous of Sarah Jane anymore. They'd become fast friends. But it wouldn't be fair to thank the poor woman for her help by reminding her of the past. She'd finally given up on waiting and had started rebuilding her life. A visit from the Doctor was the last thing she needed at this juncture. Rose's worried frown showed the extent of her internal conflict. She didn't want to upset her new friend, but she wasn't sure she should leave her mother with the Doctor.
“You won't wander off?”
He shot her an exasperated glare. “I'm not a toddler,” he said, testily. “I can get by for a few hours without adult supervision.”
“My Mrs. Phathiakulkwedia senses are tingling,” Rose muttered, narrowing her eyes at him. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“By sending you to see Sarah Jane?” he asked, hitting a falsetto note, which nearly confirmed her suspicions. “She called you, didn't she? I'm only suggesting it would do you good to see the old girl. Swap stories, imbibe a spot of tea...”
“It's just not like you to be so considerate.”
He could sense the wheels turning in her head. But her attention drifted again to her mother and, as it did, he made a conscious effort to influence her subconsciously. “We'll be fine,” he said, softly pressing on her mind. “As long as there are no alien invasions or half-off sales at Primark we'll stay right here, making toast and watching telly. You just toddle off to your girl's day out.”
Rose nodded, abruptly reaching her decision. “Don't try to fix the toaster,” she said, stepping forward and going up on tiptoes to kiss him. “The top settings are supposed to burn the toast.”
“And I imagine it was purposely engineered to make the upper left quadrant of a slice dark brown whilst leaving the lower half completely untoasted?”
“Yes, that's how we humans like our toast,” Rose told him, flatly.
“You rotate your bread, one quarter turn,” he accused, following her from the room. “You pop it up, turn it forty-five degrees and restart the toaster. I've seen you. Do you have any idea how many creative hours are being lost to the human race if everyone does that? Art, invention, peace initiatives, all of that bountiful, beautiful energy...simply...squandered,” he sputtered in exasperation, “Spent turning bread.”
“I don't want to come back here to find the fire department on the door step and the place full of smoke again,” Rose warned, lifting her jacket from the back of a sofa and draping it over her arm. He walked with her as she headed for the front hall. “The top settings are for frozen pastries and the like. Nobody uses them for toast.”
“Danish?” he mused, glancing back through the kitchen door toward the refrigerator.
Rose chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, I don't know why I bother. Just keep the fire extinguisher handy. And open a window if mum starts coughing. She doesn't have respiratory by-pass.”
The Doctor shooed her toward the exit and she went, kissing her mother goodbye on her way to the door.
As soon as he was certain Rose had gone, the Doctor turned his attention to Jackie. She'd watched her daughter leave. Now she looked at him, clicked off the television and rose from her chair. “We need to talk,” she said.
“I think we do,” he agreed. “Shall I make us some tea?”
“No, you bloody well can't make me tea,” Jackie snapped, striding across the room to confront him. “You drugged me,” she accused, shrilly. “In my own house. I should call the police, have you turned out into the street. And it would serve you right if I never let Rose see you again. Probably be the best thing for her...getting rid of you.”
The Doctor tensed, his jaw clenching. He wasn't a very nice man. And he wondered if Jackie had any idea how simple it would make things for him, if she tried to come between him and her daughter. Rose would never tolerate open interference. He thought about explaining this to Jackie, but didn't want her to feel any more threatened than she already did. Of course, he didn't want have this conversation at all. But if he had to have it, he'd much rather have it without Rose caught in the middle. Sighing, he gestured Jackie back toward her chair as he stepped around her and went to the sofa.
“You were there, last night, at her bedroom door,” he said, matter-of-fact, as he sat down. He was resigned to explaining what he'd rather not ever discuss. “What did you see?”
“You knew?” Jackie gasped. She'd just settled but this made her rise from the chair again like a startled pheasent. He thought she might slap him. “You knew I was there and...you...?”
“I'm...let's say, I was grateful you didn't rush in and start screaming.”
“I couldn't. I couldn't even move. You were...you just..." Deflating, she sank back into her seat. "Seeing Rose like that. It was horrible.”
He nodded slightly, acknowledging her disgust. But when he spoke, his voice had a hard edge to it. “Naturally, we don't think of it like that.”
“You and Rose?” Jackie asked, plaintively, hoping he would apply the pronoun to some other “we.”
“Yes, Rose and I, “ he concurred, softly, “We don't think of our union as horrible.”
Jackie didn't allow herself time to digest his wording. Now that the floodgates had been opened, she wanted to purge herself of every conflicted emotion. “I didn't mean to look,” she blurted. “I didn't even know...it was so different from...anything else. And I was dizzy and sick. Lord knows, I'm not one of those prying mothers, who creep about spying on their children. I've always trusted Rose. I just...I don't know. I woke up from this terrible dream. There was this hole, a great gaping hole in the world, and my Rose, she was falling toward it.” Her gaze had focused inward. She hugged herself, friction burning heat into her upper arms by rubbing them briskly. “I heard her screaming.”
The Doctor shivered as well. Sitting on the very edge of the sofa cushions, he spoke sharply to Jackie. The whites of his eyes gleamed all around the irises as his brows rose. “A hole? You dreamed about a hole in the world?”
“Tha's what it looked like,” Jackie told him, obviously reading far less significance into her dream than he did. Knowing he couldn't press her now, he decided to ask her more about it later. “I woke up shivering and sick, and then, I thought I heard her cry out. So, I went to her bedroom. I was that dizzy, I had to hold onto the wall.”
“You shouldn't have been out of bed,” he told her. “You Tyler women amaze me.”
“I only wanted to check, to make sure she was okay. And I called at the door. I did. But when she didn't answer me...”
“We were,” he searched for the right way to put it and settled on, “preoccupied.”
Jackie didn't seem to care what term he used. All of her attention had turned to the memory of he and Rose together, her daughter and an alien.
“I know what you think of me,” Jackie said, “But I'm not stupid. My Rose is a healthy young woman. Bound to get up to things with a man she fancies. I figured the two of you were involved. She used to spend the night with Mickey, and that Jimmy Stone...and I never said a word, except to remind her about protection. But this...? I never imagined it would be like that between you. It's unnatural. Not...human.”
“Well, I'm not human," he pointed out in his most reasonable tone.
“But my Rose is! How could she do that with you?” Sweeping her gaze over him, she hit a strident note as she said, “You look just like us.”
“Superficially,” he said, “but, just under my skin I'm a different species entirely.”
“Your skin,” Jackie said, shuddering over the memory. “It crawls.”
“Bristles,” he corrected, clinically. “But you're right," he nodded a few times to show he understood her concerns. "I'm not like you. I'm not even a primate. What Rose and I do is, fundamentally, unnatural. For both of us.”
“Then...why?”
“We..." He sighed. "How do I put this? We enjoy one another.”
“Wh-what about...?” Jackie began, before pausing to moisten her lips and swallow. The Doctor almost smiled at this reticence. It was so unlike her. “Can you...? Can the pair of you...? Can Rose get or have...children? Your children, I mean? Doing what you do together? Is it like that? Like sex?”
“Yes, it's like sex. Well," he shrugged, "it is.”
“And would they be right, normal? Normal babies? Or would they be...mules?”
“Mules?” he exclaimed, nose wrinkling as he scowled at her. Her reasoning defied him. He tugged at his hair with one hand, struggling not to sneer as he asked, “Why would they be like...? Oh, oh! Infertile, you mean? Ah, yes, clever that...they would be interspecific hybrids, like, as you say, mule. Or Tigons or ligers. Very like that. And, such hybrids are usually sterile...well, the males are. Only not in this case."
"So they wouldn't be like mules?"
"It's rather hard to explain.” His head bobbed and his mouth moved silently, chewing over the problem as he hemmed and hawed. Finally, figuring she deserved to know, he launched into a full explanation. “Fertility is based on chromosomal alignment at meiosis. Horses and donkeys have different numbers of chromosomes. So, they don't line up properly. But my species is polymorphic and, also, polyploidic. The question of offspring would be more analogous to...crossbreeding plants. Say, I was a hydrangea and Rose was a...rose. Our offspring would be something else entirely. And definitely able to breed true to their own type. Or...I say, definitely...probably...most likely. Actually, I'm not sure that's been tested. But my kind interbred with yours in the distant past. And the children passed for human, or,” he said, lingering on the conjunction because he wanted to be completely honest about this, “Demigods. Quite a few lived to breeding age...married and such. My DNA sequencing remains constant in this body once I'm out of my regenerative cycle...but my reproductive cells adapt to...”
Jackie, who had been staring at him in wide-eyed dismay for several seconds, suddenly lost all patience. “Oh, you can shut up,” she exclaimed. “Godsakes, how does she put up with you rambling on like that for days and days?”
“Right, then,” he said, saluting. “Shutting it. Summing up: Rose could get pregnant. But she won't until she's ready. I'll see to that.”
“And when she's ready, what then?” Jackie asked. “And don't go on and on about it, this time. Just answer me this, Doctor. What about when she's ready to settle down? When she's too old or too sick to keep up with you? I've seen how the pair of you live, laughing at monsters, taking mad risks. Mickey's gone and he's never coming back. How do I know you won't leave Rose and her children on some alien world? You could change your face, disappear.”
“I would never leave her.” There was a ferocity behind his measured reassurance, but Jackie dismissed it without a second thought.
“Even if I believe that,” she said, with a careless waft of her hand, “It's not safe, traveling with you.”
He had nothing to say to this. Rose had lost a child already because of him. She'd, also, lost her face and nearly died several times over. He did live a reckless life. And he had work to do that only he could do.
“Do you love her? Do you love my daughter?”
The Doctor winced. Why did humans always ask this question? He was never sure how to answer it. Oh, he knew what Jackie wanted him to say. Knew what she meant, even. She meant, will you protect Rose and keep her safe? Will you promise me she'll never be hurt? But the word love was so inadequate for what he and Rose shared. He loved the Muppets and ice cream and traveling. He'd loved many people in his 900 years of life, each of his wives, his children and grandchildren, Borusa, Sarah Jane, Romana, Tegan, and, to some extent, every other traveling companion he'd ever had. Love, like lust, was an effervescent, transient pleasure. It could move mountains, and then die and fade away. When you examined it closely, love had no real substance to it. Sparked by a series of chemical reactions in the brain and body, love was, at the heart of it all, a neurological impulse.
But there was nothing impulsive in his attachment to Rose. It was true that most of the time, he loved her completely and unreservedly, with a breathless giddiness. But to label true union 'love' was like naming a child's drawing of a star 'the sun.' To say he loved Rose would be like saying he loved his right arm or his left heart or all six of his kidneys. Of course, he did love these parts of himself, when he thought about them in those terms. If a madman with an ax (or a Sycorax with a sword) were to chop off his arm (or his hand), it would be detached from him, but no less a part of him. He would never get over losing it. Nor would it get over losing him.
It didn't matter if he could go on existing without his hand or a heart. A new hand had taken the place of his old one. But, the old one was still his hand. If pressed to find it, even now, he could do so. He knew, for example, that at this very moment it was pickling in a jar in Cardiff. Why Cardiff, he wondered? Before dismissing the thought.
If someone asked, “Do you love your right hand?” What would he say?
It's my hand!
He decided to say much the same to Jackie. “She's my Rose,” he said.
“But do you love her?” Jackie pressed, and he knew any attempt at poetic license would go over her head. “Really? Truly?”
“Yes,” he said, simply, consigning his oaths and ranking as a Time Lord to perdition with a single word. No regrets, he thought, as Jackie went on speaking.
“As much as I do? Enough to let go? Enough to do the right thing, like you did before? You sent her home once. And that's the only reason I have to trust you.”
“I've promised Rose,” he said, “that she can stay with me as long as she likes. You're asking me if I would send her away? No! You have no idea what that would do to her.”
“Yes, I do,” Jackie said. “Why do you think I've remained quiet all this time?”
“Quiet?” he scoffed.
“I've let you have the run of this house. I've played my part,” she said, offended by his open disdain. “You won't hear anyone say different. Everyone thinks I'm the happy mother-in-law.” He lifted a curious brow at this, wondering if she suspected how apt the term was. “But I have to know...this one thing. If there ever comes a time when you can't protect her, are you strong enough to let her go?”
Eyes steady on hers, he rose from the sofa, a sure signal this conversation was at an end.
“I want her beside me, always," he said. "But I will never put my happiness ahead of her safety,” he shook his head as he went on, “I'm sorry. That's all I can promise you. Now, if I can't interest you in tea, how about some toast?”
END PART 22
...does that make this Part 23? Maybe! But I think of this as one, obviously wordy, chapter.
GO HERE FIRST...before reading on and read the beginning of the chapter...you need it to know what's happened there...before you will understand what's happening here...
Now...begins the overkill of warnings...all who pass this point beware...
STOP!!
DO NOT START READING UNTIL YOU'VE READ THE FIRST HALF OF CHAPTER 22
Read Part ONE and then come back to this part...
He glanced up and, flashing an impudent grin, caroled, “Hello!”
Rose would have called him something nasty, if he hadn't been shimmering. All along his chest and back, the mantle of arousal bristled. The moving tapestry of desire never failed to mesmerize her. And for so long, she'd been blind to it. In the beginning, everything had happened so fast and this display had been hidden under layers of clothing. The Doctor's arousal had manifested for her as a hundred needle sharp darts firing neurotoxins into her skin. Her earliest experiences with this mantling phenomenon had been brief shots of pain, followed by the drugged haze of his aphrodisiac. But now, she could see all of his sexual arousal signs. He'd learned to trust her, and himself. And she'd learned to see him as he was--alien, but extraordinarily beautiful in full mating display.
He was like an anemone, her Doctor. Most like that, she supposed, with his venomous darts bristling. Stray ions, dust particles in the air, even her pheromones, acted like ocean currents might on the tiny hair-like projections. In the presence of his true companion, the Doctor's cnidocytes danced. They stirred and swayed, creating intricate and beautiful patterns. The specialized cells she'd once thought of as a random collection of goosebumps or prickly little harpoons, Rose now thought of as enticing. This display was for her alone, his life mate. If she blew on his skin, or even thought about touching him, he responded. His skin rippled and, as he'd showed her via the TARDIS photo lab, also emitted colors and other high spectrum energies. He let her hear the music via their telepathic link.
And then there was his sex.
Her gaze was inexorably drawn to it as he stepped free of his trousers. It had blooming open a bit and the sight set Rose's mouth watering. She licked her lips, slowly, seductively; thrilled when his display changed. The pleasure he could give her in full flower surpassed even the wonders of their mental union. But, she knew better than to rush this. She approached him cautiously. He hadn't been exaggerating about how dangerous this was. His kind mated violently. Gallifreyan males were a stealthy lot. After enticing a partner in with an arousal display, they were programmed to tackle her, striking without warning. A Gallifreyan female, injected with neurotoxin was still strong enough to respond or recoil, depending on her level of psychic compatibility with her would-be mate.
But, naked and telepathically defenseless, a human female stood no chance. If the Doctor hit her with even a fraction of the toxic load he would use on one of his own kind, Rose would be comatose for a week. Mutual physical pleasure depended on the dance, on Rose being his true companion. She needed to commune with him psychically, let him know she was prepared to accept him. And she could do that now. The connection was strong enough, she was strong enough. Which meant he was free to display for her, free to experience his full sexuality. He held a hand up, palm out, facing her and she mirrored him. They touched at the fingertips, then at the palm, still standing two arm's lengths apart.
His eyes glittered like cut crystal as they focused on hers. She stroked him with her mind, drawing imaginary fingers along his shoulders, and down across his chest. The skin there swirled and the Doctor sent a resonating hum into her head. He continued to sing, even as he hissed his next breath through clenched teeth. Rose hummed, too, and watched him fight off the urge to put her down.
His mouth opened and closed, but he had no words for what he wanted. He flashed her the impression of it and her nipples hardened even more, throbbing in anticipation. Catching and holding his gaze, she very slowly shifted her fingers, sliding them against, and then inbetween his. When she tightened her grip, he broke eye contact, head tipping back as he groaned. Rose glanced down and saw he was ready for her. She tugged him forward as she sank onto the end of the bed.
You're so beautiful. she told him again, mind to mind. “Perfect,” she said, softly popping her p and t. Her exhalation curled around his orchid-like member, stimulating it to full bloom.
It reached for her lips, depositing a feather-light kiss with its delicate petals. Sighing, she closed her eyes and opened her mouth, surrounding her Doctor in the moist heat he craved. Invited to explore, he touched her ear, caressed her throat and fluttered over her eyelids. When the thousands of little tongues started to vibrate, the singing in her head became a chorus, urging her to lie back on the bed. She settled into a completely receptive position, knees up, heels braced wide as she relaxed onto her bent elbows.
His first pass over her belly went all the way down, into the slick valley between her legs. The surge of bliss nearly stopped her heart. She gasped as it slammed into her ribcage and cried out before she could stop herself. A moment later she thought she heard an answering call from just outside the room door.
The door was only partially closed and under any other circumstance Rose would have investigated such a noise. But her current state of psychic overload left her very little synaptic leeway to harbor suspicions. Her brain was busy cataloging a deluge of alien sensations. Lit up inside, blood and bone on fire, she could only pray for reference points for most of the incoming sensory data. Delicious tremors zigzagged through her. She could see the radio waves and microwaves in the air around her. Sound had texture. That was him, she knew, his senses overlapping hers.
Rose had never used drugs but she imagined tripping on something wildly hallucinogenic must feel this way. She could taste the Doctor's thoughts. Her nervous system had no means to process his feelings and impressions. It had red-lined at the outer limits of pleasure, one chemical reaction short of a meltdown.
And then, the Doctor kissed her.
It was a sweet, simple kiss, but the touch helped her orient on him, on what he was doing above her. His mouth was wondrously compliant, adapting to her purely human need for a physical connection. Lips, soft on hers, brought back an awareness of her body. Tender kisses, coming one after another, awakened her to a shivering need. She needed to arch under him, press into him. Oh, she wanted to fuck him, now. She wanted a hard, slick ride and knew he wanted one, too. A sweet pang coiled around her heart. Her abdominal muscles tensed taut enough to quiver. And it became crystal clear that no matter how alien, how cerebral, this encounter seemed, it was still sex. They both panted and shuddered and Rose came.
Mind-to-mind, he absorbed her climax, making it his. But something was blocking him from his own release. Rose pressed for the reason and caught a glimpse of a swirling void, but he shunted the image away from her. She scraped her nails down his spine, opened her mind to him and encouraged him to give in to the avalanche of sensations bombarding them both. She wanted him to come for her, chanted for it in his head: Go on. Go on. Jump. Fall. Love, mine, let me catch you.
With a mindless growl, he rose to his knees above her. His fingers locked around her wrists and he dragged her hands up over her head. Then, he shifted his legs, straddling her hips. The straddling no longer seemed wrong to her, it was so very right. Everything they did together felt perfectly natural to her. He wanted to hold onto her, needed that. He needed to make it perfectly obvious she was his. No enemy, no rival, could claim her or steal her from him, because they were one mind, one form.
They caught and kept a rhythm, rocking the bed until its springs squeaked. She pushed him to climax, shoving him into the bright sun at the center of her mind. When he came, when the white light of his soul rocketed through her, Rose rode with him all the way down into the black. They slumped into one another, their bodies curling into a yin and yang circle.
Lying content in the Doctor's arms, Rose waited for her heart rate to slow. She drifted towards sleep, listening to the repetitive sound of the Doctor's breathing, happy he'd found rest. In the distance, she could hear traffic racing along the highway. Nearby, there were muted voices, but it was still too quiet. It took her a moment to realize what was missing. There was no satisfied hum from the walls of her room, no TARDIS to tuck reality in around them and bid them sweet dreams.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Are you sure you'll be alright while I'm gone?” Rose murmured, cutting her glance toward the living room, where her mother sat watching Coronation Street. “My mum's still acting odd. No bickering. No yelling. I don't want to leave her alone.”
“She won't be alone, will she? I'm here. And Sarah Jane is expecting you.”
“You could go,” Rose suggested, half-heartedly. “Give her my regards.”
Her marked lack of enthusiasm for this plan, told him he had chosen the right bait to remove her from the house. “Oh, I don't think I could.” He swept a hand across his nape, peering up at her, as he said, “All those...memories.”
Rose sighed, knowing he was right. She wasn't jealous of Sarah Jane anymore. They'd become fast friends. But it wouldn't be fair to thank the poor woman for her help by reminding her of the past. She'd finally given up on waiting and had started rebuilding her life. A visit from the Doctor was the last thing she needed at this juncture. Rose's worried frown showed the extent of her internal conflict. She didn't want to upset her new friend, but she wasn't sure she should leave her mother with the Doctor.
“You won't wander off?”
He shot her an exasperated glare. “I'm not a toddler,” he said, testily. “I can get by for a few hours without adult supervision.”
“My Mrs. Phathiakulkwedia senses are tingling,” Rose muttered, narrowing her eyes at him. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“By sending you to see Sarah Jane?” he asked, hitting a falsetto note, which nearly confirmed her suspicions. “She called you, didn't she? I'm only suggesting it would do you good to see the old girl. Swap stories, imbibe a spot of tea...”
“It's just not like you to be so considerate.”
He could sense the wheels turning in her head. But her attention drifted again to her mother and, as it did, he made a conscious effort to influence her subconsciously. “We'll be fine,” he said, softly pressing on her mind. “As long as there are no alien invasions or half-off sales at Primark we'll stay right here, making toast and watching telly. You just toddle off to your girl's day out.”
Rose nodded, abruptly reaching her decision. “Don't try to fix the toaster,” she said, stepping forward and going up on tiptoes to kiss him. “The top settings are supposed to burn the toast.”
“And I imagine it was purposely engineered to make the upper left quadrant of a slice dark brown whilst leaving the lower half completely untoasted?”
“Yes, that's how we humans like our toast,” Rose told him, flatly.
“You rotate your bread, one quarter turn,” he accused, following her from the room. “You pop it up, turn it forty-five degrees and restart the toaster. I've seen you. Do you have any idea how many creative hours are being lost to the human race if everyone does that? Art, invention, peace initiatives, all of that bountiful, beautiful energy...simply...squandered,” he sputtered in exasperation, “Spent turning bread.”
“I don't want to come back here to find the fire department on the door step and the place full of smoke again,” Rose warned, lifting her jacket from the back of a sofa and draping it over her arm. He walked with her as she headed for the front hall. “The top settings are for frozen pastries and the like. Nobody uses them for toast.”
“Danish?” he mused, glancing back through the kitchen door toward the refrigerator.
Rose chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, I don't know why I bother. Just keep the fire extinguisher handy. And open a window if mum starts coughing. She doesn't have respiratory by-pass.”
The Doctor shooed her toward the exit and she went, kissing her mother goodbye on her way to the door.
As soon as he was certain Rose had gone, the Doctor turned his attention to Jackie. She'd watched her daughter leave. Now she looked at him, clicked off the television and rose from her chair. “We need to talk,” she said.
“I think we do,” he agreed. “Shall I make us some tea?”
“No, you bloody well can't make me tea,” Jackie snapped, striding across the room to confront him. “You drugged me,” she accused, shrilly. “In my own house. I should call the police, have you turned out into the street. And it would serve you right if I never let Rose see you again. Probably be the best thing for her...getting rid of you.”
The Doctor tensed, his jaw clenching. He wasn't a very nice man. And he wondered if Jackie had any idea how simple it would make things for him, if she tried to come between him and her daughter. Rose would never tolerate open interference. He thought about explaining this to Jackie, but didn't want her to feel any more threatened than she already did. Of course, he didn't want have this conversation at all. But if he had to have it, he'd much rather have it without Rose caught in the middle. Sighing, he gestured Jackie back toward her chair as he stepped around her and went to the sofa.
“You were there, last night, at her bedroom door,” he said, matter-of-fact, as he sat down. He was resigned to explaining what he'd rather not ever discuss. “What did you see?”
“You knew?” Jackie gasped. She'd just settled but this made her rise from the chair again like a startled pheasent. He thought she might slap him. “You knew I was there and...you...?”
“I'm...let's say, I was grateful you didn't rush in and start screaming.”
“I couldn't. I couldn't even move. You were...you just..." Deflating, she sank back into her seat. "Seeing Rose like that. It was horrible.”
He nodded slightly, acknowledging her disgust. But when he spoke, his voice had a hard edge to it. “Naturally, we don't think of it like that.”
“You and Rose?” Jackie asked, plaintively, hoping he would apply the pronoun to some other “we.”
“Yes, Rose and I, “ he concurred, softly, “We don't think of our union as horrible.”
Jackie didn't allow herself time to digest his wording. Now that the floodgates had been opened, she wanted to purge herself of every conflicted emotion. “I didn't mean to look,” she blurted. “I didn't even know...it was so different from...anything else. And I was dizzy and sick. Lord knows, I'm not one of those prying mothers, who creep about spying on their children. I've always trusted Rose. I just...I don't know. I woke up from this terrible dream. There was this hole, a great gaping hole in the world, and my Rose, she was falling toward it.” Her gaze had focused inward. She hugged herself, friction burning heat into her upper arms by rubbing them briskly. “I heard her screaming.”
The Doctor shivered as well. Sitting on the very edge of the sofa cushions, he spoke sharply to Jackie. The whites of his eyes gleamed all around the irises as his brows rose. “A hole? You dreamed about a hole in the world?”
“Tha's what it looked like,” Jackie told him, obviously reading far less significance into her dream than he did. Knowing he couldn't press her now, he decided to ask her more about it later. “I woke up shivering and sick, and then, I thought I heard her cry out. So, I went to her bedroom. I was that dizzy, I had to hold onto the wall.”
“You shouldn't have been out of bed,” he told her. “You Tyler women amaze me.”
“I only wanted to check, to make sure she was okay. And I called at the door. I did. But when she didn't answer me...”
“We were,” he searched for the right way to put it and settled on, “preoccupied.”
Jackie didn't seem to care what term he used. All of her attention had turned to the memory of he and Rose together, her daughter and an alien.
“I know what you think of me,” Jackie said, “But I'm not stupid. My Rose is a healthy young woman. Bound to get up to things with a man she fancies. I figured the two of you were involved. She used to spend the night with Mickey, and that Jimmy Stone...and I never said a word, except to remind her about protection. But this...? I never imagined it would be like that between you. It's unnatural. Not...human.”
“Well, I'm not human," he pointed out in his most reasonable tone.
“But my Rose is! How could she do that with you?” Sweeping her gaze over him, she hit a strident note as she said, “You look just like us.”
“Superficially,” he said, “but, just under my skin I'm a different species entirely.”
“Your skin,” Jackie said, shuddering over the memory. “It crawls.”
“Bristles,” he corrected, clinically. “But you're right," he nodded a few times to show he understood her concerns. "I'm not like you. I'm not even a primate. What Rose and I do is, fundamentally, unnatural. For both of us.”
“Then...why?”
“We..." He sighed. "How do I put this? We enjoy one another.”
“Wh-what about...?” Jackie began, before pausing to moisten her lips and swallow. The Doctor almost smiled at this reticence. It was so unlike her. “Can you...? Can the pair of you...? Can Rose get or have...children? Your children, I mean? Doing what you do together? Is it like that? Like sex?”
“Yes, it's like sex. Well," he shrugged, "it is.”
“And would they be right, normal? Normal babies? Or would they be...mules?”
“Mules?” he exclaimed, nose wrinkling as he scowled at her. Her reasoning defied him. He tugged at his hair with one hand, struggling not to sneer as he asked, “Why would they be like...? Oh, oh! Infertile, you mean? Ah, yes, clever that...they would be interspecific hybrids, like, as you say, mule. Or Tigons or ligers. Very like that. And, such hybrids are usually sterile...well, the males are. Only not in this case."
"So they wouldn't be like mules?"
"It's rather hard to explain.” His head bobbed and his mouth moved silently, chewing over the problem as he hemmed and hawed. Finally, figuring she deserved to know, he launched into a full explanation. “Fertility is based on chromosomal alignment at meiosis. Horses and donkeys have different numbers of chromosomes. So, they don't line up properly. But my species is polymorphic and, also, polyploidic. The question of offspring would be more analogous to...crossbreeding plants. Say, I was a hydrangea and Rose was a...rose. Our offspring would be something else entirely. And definitely able to breed true to their own type. Or...I say, definitely...probably...most likely. Actually, I'm not sure that's been tested. But my kind interbred with yours in the distant past. And the children passed for human, or,” he said, lingering on the conjunction because he wanted to be completely honest about this, “Demigods. Quite a few lived to breeding age...married and such. My DNA sequencing remains constant in this body once I'm out of my regenerative cycle...but my reproductive cells adapt to...”
Jackie, who had been staring at him in wide-eyed dismay for several seconds, suddenly lost all patience. “Oh, you can shut up,” she exclaimed. “Godsakes, how does she put up with you rambling on like that for days and days?”
“Right, then,” he said, saluting. “Shutting it. Summing up: Rose could get pregnant. But she won't until she's ready. I'll see to that.”
“And when she's ready, what then?” Jackie asked. “And don't go on and on about it, this time. Just answer me this, Doctor. What about when she's ready to settle down? When she's too old or too sick to keep up with you? I've seen how the pair of you live, laughing at monsters, taking mad risks. Mickey's gone and he's never coming back. How do I know you won't leave Rose and her children on some alien world? You could change your face, disappear.”
“I would never leave her.” There was a ferocity behind his measured reassurance, but Jackie dismissed it without a second thought.
“Even if I believe that,” she said, with a careless waft of her hand, “It's not safe, traveling with you.”
He had nothing to say to this. Rose had lost a child already because of him. She'd, also, lost her face and nearly died several times over. He did live a reckless life. And he had work to do that only he could do.
“Do you love her? Do you love my daughter?”
The Doctor winced. Why did humans always ask this question? He was never sure how to answer it. Oh, he knew what Jackie wanted him to say. Knew what she meant, even. She meant, will you protect Rose and keep her safe? Will you promise me she'll never be hurt? But the word love was so inadequate for what he and Rose shared. He loved the Muppets and ice cream and traveling. He'd loved many people in his 900 years of life, each of his wives, his children and grandchildren, Borusa, Sarah Jane, Romana, Tegan, and, to some extent, every other traveling companion he'd ever had. Love, like lust, was an effervescent, transient pleasure. It could move mountains, and then die and fade away. When you examined it closely, love had no real substance to it. Sparked by a series of chemical reactions in the brain and body, love was, at the heart of it all, a neurological impulse.
But there was nothing impulsive in his attachment to Rose. It was true that most of the time, he loved her completely and unreservedly, with a breathless giddiness. But to label true union 'love' was like naming a child's drawing of a star 'the sun.' To say he loved Rose would be like saying he loved his right arm or his left heart or all six of his kidneys. Of course, he did love these parts of himself, when he thought about them in those terms. If a madman with an ax (or a Sycorax with a sword) were to chop off his arm (or his hand), it would be detached from him, but no less a part of him. He would never get over losing it. Nor would it get over losing him.
It didn't matter if he could go on existing without his hand or a heart. A new hand had taken the place of his old one. But, the old one was still his hand. If pressed to find it, even now, he could do so. He knew, for example, that at this very moment it was pickling in a jar in Cardiff. Why Cardiff, he wondered? Before dismissing the thought.
If someone asked, “Do you love your right hand?” What would he say?
It's my hand!
He decided to say much the same to Jackie. “She's my Rose,” he said.
“But do you love her?” Jackie pressed, and he knew any attempt at poetic license would go over her head. “Really? Truly?”
“Yes,” he said, simply, consigning his oaths and ranking as a Time Lord to perdition with a single word. No regrets, he thought, as Jackie went on speaking.
“As much as I do? Enough to let go? Enough to do the right thing, like you did before? You sent her home once. And that's the only reason I have to trust you.”
“I've promised Rose,” he said, “that she can stay with me as long as she likes. You're asking me if I would send her away? No! You have no idea what that would do to her.”
“Yes, I do,” Jackie said. “Why do you think I've remained quiet all this time?”
“Quiet?” he scoffed.
“I've let you have the run of this house. I've played my part,” she said, offended by his open disdain. “You won't hear anyone say different. Everyone thinks I'm the happy mother-in-law.” He lifted a curious brow at this, wondering if she suspected how apt the term was. “But I have to know...this one thing. If there ever comes a time when you can't protect her, are you strong enough to let her go?”
Eyes steady on hers, he rose from the sofa, a sure signal this conversation was at an end.
“I want her beside me, always," he said. "But I will never put my happiness ahead of her safety,” he shook his head as he went on, “I'm sorry. That's all I can promise you. Now, if I can't interest you in tea, how about some toast?”
END PART 22
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-05 04:57 am (UTC)Just excellent! Seeing a new chapter of this is always a treat. Thanks so much!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-05 05:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-05 06:08 am (UTC)Have I told you lately how brilliant I think you are? No? You're brilliant.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-05 06:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-05 06:42 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-05 06:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-05 06:53 am (UTC)Trying to break into the TARDIS was pretty hilarious. A tad distracted, eh, Doctor? *giggle* I can't help but think of the times when the TARDIS let just random strangers wander in (who, of course, became companions), but will lock even the Doctor out! (I liked your explanation for why the TARDIS didn't know to just open the door)
God bless K-9...all of them!
Really awesome job integrating the events of "Love & Monsters". I never stopped to think how much Jackie was affected by what Elton did. Yeah, we saw Rose all ticked off, but you made Jackie so much more...human. Real. No wonder Rose was so pissed off.
And I love how you never miss a trick...Rose's hair was even braided in Ch 21, so it would match with her hair in L&M!
Said Time Lord had caved completely when she'd pleaded with those puppy-dog eyes of hers. He wasn't made of stone, even if Elton's girlfriend now was.
*snort*
The sex scene is H.O.T. HOT! I'm continually amazed at the richness of your vision of the Time Lords, physically, psychically, sex...the whole shebang. For being so completely alien, I can still picture everything perfectly.
I loooooove that Rose has come to appreciate, love, and even crave this completely foreign way of connecting to another person. The Doctor is alien...but instead of comparing to her human view of sex, she appreciates what they do in its own right. They've both managed to adapt and compromise in a way that makes the experience..."pleasurable" isn't a strong enough word, but I guess it will have to do. They are completely in love and how they express that love is becoming natural to them.
Then you counterbalance this SO nicely by having Jackie be so horrified by what she saw. The Doctor does so well in acknowledging her disgust, without making any justifications. That's an incredibly enlightened position. Yes, it's not natural for a human and a Gallifreyan to mate, to fall in love. But it happened. I think he was right to keep Rose out of the conversation for the moment. It kept the situation more calm and reasoned. But he sure as heck better tell her that her mom knows what's what! (well, aside from that tiny detail of being married n' all... lol)
And trust Jackie to be the one to get the Doctor to admit out loud that he loves Rose. XD Though I understand his position...yeah, yeah, Time Lord blah blah...even forgetting all that, their relationship goes far beyond just the conventional view of "love". But there's no other word that fits. He tried to explain it, but it's a tough concept to understand, how Rose is a part of him. How they are part of each other, as necessary as any limb or organ.
I want to be mad at Jackie for not understanding (and now I'm afraid that all the goofy mother-in-lawness at the beginning of "Army of Ghosts" is just a front), but I can't blame her, either. It took the Doctor and Rose a number of years to get to this point, so she's certainly not going to accept it overnight.
All in all, AWESOME chapter. I can't believe there are only three chapters left! I'm torn...I want to know what happens, but I don't want it to be over, either. I have enjoyed reading this story SO much.
OMG - I just realized that it's 2:00am! See, you suck me in, darn you! :D
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-05 08:52 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-05 09:27 am (UTC)I know Rose in the end will be seperated from him for a while, but then go back. I think finally then Jackie would accept him and any children they have. I have a feeling Rose will be stay in the other universe long enough to raise her next son or daughter.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-05 09:34 am (UTC)This is simply an extension of what she is worried about with Rose. Jackie has a very narrow view of the world...and she tried to superimpose that view on Rose...but it never really took. Jackie says things like "That shop was giving you airs and graces
and is put off by Rose being "just like him." Rose, however, views her life before the Doctor as a barren wasteland...nothing ever happened.
I think Jackie simply didn't understand how much Rose loved the Doctor until that moment at the wall when Rose is weeping. By the time we get to the beach scene in Doomsday...Jackie understands and sympathizes. She, too, has the experience of losing the man she loved more than any other. She just didn't associate that depth of adult feeling with her little girl. Rose keeps things inside...witness how long it takes HER to admit her love to the Doctor...or to show him just how determined she is to "never leave" him.
Rae
thanking you for your thoughtful feedback. Nice to see you still reading, Kit.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-05 09:35 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-05 09:36 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-05 09:49 am (UTC)I am gratified to see that you soaked up the gravity of the Jackie-Doctor conversation. It is vital, in my view, to understanding what he does in Doomsday. I think he just felt that separating Rose and her mother would be a deal-breaker for Rose and so he steeled himself for the loss. So, I set that up here...with Rose doing all she can to protect her mum...and Jackie pointing out the dangers of the Doctor's lifestyle.
Thanks for your comments...it is always a treat to hear from you, too.
Rae
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-05 09:55 am (UTC)Add in the Doctor's inability to separate Rose from his own flesh...she's like his hand...and we can see how he might misunderstand how serious she was about "never leaving" him. She wasn't just talking...she'd made her decision a long time ago. And her mother wasn't the most important person at all.
I am so happy you love the fic. I hope it ends well for you. Three more chapters to go...less than 3 weeks until Christmas. It's a horse race, now! :eek:
Thanks for the lovely feedback. Glad you liked the flower cock sex. Now he's an anemone...I can hear the critics moaning over it already. :-0 and also ;->
Rae
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-05 09:59 am (UTC)There is heartbreak straight ahead now...fasten your seat belts for it. And thank you so much for the comments and the "You're brilliant"...you made me all glowy inside.
Rae
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-05 12:55 pm (UTC)That is all. (^_^)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-05 12:57 pm (UTC)Only I want to know these things
Date: 2007-12-05 03:07 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-05 05:03 pm (UTC)Well, Rose and I...
Date: 2007-12-05 05:17 pm (UTC)I think once he came to grips wtih the idea of WANTING to pounce on her...he was religiously rigorous with his self-medicating. Of course, that is something to think on...maybe it is proportional for desire...but the spice simply works on the cellular walls of his sperm, not really on his libido. My personal feeling is that contact with moist heat and Rose's growing telepathic ability is what is stimulating him.
I imagine on his dry, nearly barren, home world, water still equals life...or life-giving. This accounts for the attraction to humans, as well. We are a hot and juicy species. He is also stimulated by contact but not in exactly the same way a man would be.
For him...contact causes an almost defensive response...like it would for an anemone or a jellyfish. He always has this heightened sensitivity...that's why he wears so many layers. And, incidentally, why he was screaming so readily in DALEK (for my canon...I'm sure RTD just figured they were using high voltage).
Thanks for your interest. And, by-the-by, can I assume this means you enjoyed the chapter? Even though the Doctor wants to ravish Rose?
Rae
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-05 05:50 pm (UTC)The description of his body when they make love and the emotional intesity. And Jackies entire reaction was perfect. Poor Doctor that must have been a difficult conversation.
Seriously Rae, this fic will go down as one of my all time favourites. Beautifully done.
You don't need me to say
Date: 2007-12-05 07:21 pm (UTC)I'm wondering if the Doctor's impeded biology is what's making him so keen to pounce on Rose. It's a means to reproduce, but that's the one thing his body is having trouble with. So, his body is desperate to bond with Rose in order to make all the effort biologically worthwhile? Kind of 'keep at it until she's knocked up'?
I must admit, I'm touched you care about my feelings regarding the Doctor's libodo. I'm probably the only person reading who cares whether the Doctor is asexual!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-05 09:15 pm (UTC)Second, one of the things I love about this story that this chapter highlights is the amazing way you handle the growing relationship between the Doctor and Rose, both physically and emotionally. There's an emotional depth to your writing that leads one to find beauty and sensuality in something that is fantastic (in multiple senses of the word) and unnatural without a second thought. To the point where I bet most readers' first reactions to Jackie was to be upset, but then if you think about it, we'd probably all have had the same reactions as she did if we'd just jumped in at this chapter. It's brilliant.
*stubbornly ignores impending doom and heartache to revel in present loveliness*
I don't know...not too many comments
Date: 2007-12-05 09:17 pm (UTC)I'm probably the only person reading who cares whether the Doctor is asexual!
Well, I care. And I tell you what...you've hit on the truth via your musings, too. At least when it comes to my views of his generally asexuality...I'm on board with keep at it until she gets pregnant. See, basically, his species not that interested in sex. But they do have a specific breeding pattern...which is stealth pouncing on any partner that presents.
You don't really have to worry too much about him accidentally pouncing on Jackie though...becuase he and Rose already bounded psychically. It goes...arousal...pounce...injection...mind pillaging...rejection of sex. Or...in that rare case of compatibility...breeding. Rose is the Doctor's rare case of compatibility...therefore he can successfully impregnate her...and he is programmed to keep at it until successful...because amoung HIS species...she would be able to control her own biology and decide when they were ready to produce offspring. Rose doesn't have the luxury of casting off his seed...but he's taken care of that for her.
Still...when it comes to the basics of biology...his responds to conditions for life...wet, warm, lifemate available. POUNCE!
Rae
Well, I will say this
Date: 2007-12-05 09:40 pm (UTC)