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Fic: Heritage, Chapter Seven

Title: Heritage, Chapter Seven
Author: NP-Complete
Rating: R for adult-ish content
Characters: OCs; historical Rose/Ten
Spoilers: Doomsday
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not even close. No money being made.

Summary: Half Time Lord, all human

Author's Note: Thanks to everybody who commented on my previous chapters. Even more thanks than usual to kalleah for beta and much-needed encouragement.

It was happening. It was really going to happen.

Previous Chapters

It was happening. It was really going to happen.

They walked down the hallway, hand in hand, silent. The bedroom door waited for them. What was happening -- it was new, and exciting, and frightening. This was not a stumbling, fumbling hunt for a suitable corner while in the throes of passion. There would be no denying this afterwards, no hung-over agreement to forget it ever happened, no blaming it on alcohol or the mood of the moment. It was as deliberate as anything she had ever done.

Beyond the door, in his bedroom, it was still dark. “Do you mind,” said John, in a low, quiet voice, “if I raise the blind?”

“I don’t want anyone to see in,” she said.

“They won’t, the curtains are still here. Just want some light.” She nodded, shyly. He let go her hand, went to the window and raised the blind, and turned back to look at her. The sudden light haloed the loose strands of his hair, lightening it and casting his body into relative shadow.

“I want to see you,” he said, and, though she could not see his eyes, his voice was naked.

She waited for him, at the point of trembling, as he walked back to her, feeling each of her senses opening up, craving sensation. He came quickly and yet she thought she would always remember each step. He reached her, and took her hands again.

They stared at each other, silently, scanning each other’s faces, taking each other in. “You don’t-“ he started, but she cut him off with a kiss.

Best get started, she thought, and reached for his shirt buttons.

I’m undressing him. It felt daring, presumptuous. He stood still, his hands on her hips, fingers moving slightly. His gaze was on her hands, focused, intense, as if he could not believe what was happening unless he followed every movement. She felt his chest move with his breathing as she followed the line of the buttons up, the fabric smooth against her fingers, the breath from his parted lips touching her hands as she reached his neck.

She finished, and looked up again, and he kissed her as if he could no longer bear not to, offering her soft, suppliant kisses. She felt his hands at her waist, pulling at her T-shirt, but they stilled as he looked the question at her. She reached down and lifted it herself, pulling it up and off. Static plastered her hair to her cheek, and she scraped it away.

John ran his hands over her shoulders, her arms, her back, and kissed her all over her mouth. She had her arms around him, rubbing his back under the loose shirt. His skin felt hot and supple, smoothly stretched over bone and muscle. He bent to kiss her neck and shoulders, and his hands reached for her breasts, stopping just short. He looked at her, and she smiled, then pulled back to climb onto the bed.

He followed her, and they both knelt, John stroking her breasts through her bra. She watched his hands, long-fingered, made for delicate tasks, at work on her flesh. They touched her with a delicacy appropriate for glassware, and she wished for a different touch, something more confident and possessive. Perhaps she could show him. She lifted her eyes to his, and found him watching her, eyes dark.

“Could you—” he said, touching the strap of her bra with his fingertip. “Is it all right if—”

“Yes,” she said, and reached back to unclasp it. He watched, sitting back on his heels, focused on her.

The bra unfastened, she moved to lower it, met his eyes, wide and dark and burning, and paused, suddenly shy. Her supply of boldness had run out.

John seemed to understand. “Let me see,” he said gently, after a minute, and reached forward.

He took the loose straps of her bra delicately in his fingertips, and pulled gently. “Let me see,” he whispered.

She dropped her arms, looking away, and felt the bra slide down. The air was cool on her bare skin. After a moment, she looked back.

John was staring at her, leaning back on his heels, his expression intent, his face fixed in concentration, focused entirely on her chest.

“Beautiful,” he announced, at last, in a tone of utter conviction.

She felt a movement, a surge of moisture, between her legs, and sank back on her heels. John sank back on his, and they looked at each other, at each other’s faces and naked skin and then back again.

Her turn to touch. She rose again on her knees, and moved forward, setting her hands on John’s shoulders to slide off his open shirt. He watched, eyes uncertain, but trusting. She spotted a likely looking spot on his neck and bent to kiss it. John gasped, faintly.

She pulled back to look: his eyes were shut tight. She tried another kiss and a lick, this time on his shoulder. She heard his breath catch.

How long had it been since anyone had touched him with tenderness? Too long, surely. She had a vision of nights spent alone in the double bed, isolated, untouched. She would remedy this: she would touch all those sensitive, vulnerable spots, fill up the empty places inside of him with her care. She ran her hands down his sides, savoring the feel of his skin, careful not to tickle, and bent her head to kiss his chest.

He was still at first, quivering slightly, as if he feared movement were forbidden, but as she caressed him and kissed his skin his rigidity began to loosen, and he grew languid, groaning and arching to meet her as she worked on him. His head turned to face hers, and she was startled by the expression in his eyes: so much heat, and desire, and yet patience, trusting her to take her own time, letting her do with him what she would.

She stilled, meeting his eyes, and he spoke for the first time in many minutes.

“I want,” he said, voice low and rich, “to bring some of this to you.”

She had no objection: indeed, it sounded like a splendid idea. She faced him, running her hands down his chest and then leaning back, eager to see what he would do.

He sat back, at first, and just looked at her, breathing heavily. She sat there, wondering what it was he saw.

Finally, he moved, reaching out and setting his hands just above her waist. He moved to cup her breasts, grasping them and then caressing them, using the same confident, languid strokes she had used on him. She sighed with pleasure. This was what she had wanted, what she wanted their times together to be like.

He bent to take a nipple in his mouth, and the physical connection was abrupt, intense: she felt each pull of his mouth on her breast echoed between her legs, in a pulse that felt like a crackle of electricity. His other hand continued to fondle the remaining breast, rubbing over the nipple, and the dual simulation made her close her eyes and shudder. Something, in her body, in her heart, that had been holding itself tense, suddenly relaxed, and, again, she felt moisture.

When she opened her eyes again, John’s eyes were closed. She watched him as he sucked on her breast, observed the dark fringe of his lashes, set against the paleness of his cheek and closed eyelids. It was another small beauty to him, another thing to hold close in her heart, something that belonged to him and her alone.

They parted, and looked at each other shyly, like new strangers. John’s hands reached down to her hips and grasped the material of her trousers, feeling the flesh through them. Feeling as if she was following the steps of a slow dance, she reached for his belt buckle, opening it, reaching for the fastenings of his trousers, while the skin of his stomach pulled in, away from her hand.

“I’ll—I’ll—” said John, and then his hand came down and moved hers away. “I’ll—” he said, and then he was climbing off the bed, turning around, fumbling with the fastenings. She watched him struggle with them, watched the movement of the muscles in his back. She was struck again by how narrow his body was. The light glanced off his naked back and shoulders, pale and undefended, and she was filled with an ache of raw tenderness, acute and unnamable, that felt almost like grief.

She moved to shed her own trousers, and was waiting, clad only in a pair of damp knickers, when he finished. He came right up to her, as if he’d missed her in the few moments they’d been separate, and captured her mouth again, one hand reaching for her breast, the other grasping her bottom. He kissed her passionately and thoroughly, and then let her mouth go, resting his forehead against hers.

“Lie down,” he murmured, and then inserted both thumbs in the elastic of her knickers. “And – may I? – let’s be rid of these.”

His fingers grasped the sides of her knickers, and pulled them down, slowly, the elastic in the back sliding over her bottom in a way that caused her to feel her nakedness acutely. Now he was going to see everything remaining of her. What would he think?

He helped her lie down, and propped her head up on a pillow. “So you can see,” he said. She lay back, feeling the sheets against her bare back and bottom. Her mind was racing ahead, wondering what to expect. Give credit for the effort, she thought, whatever it may be like.

She had a good view of John between her naked legs as he got to work. He made himself busy. She felt herself continue to soften and grow slicker as he stroked, petted, parted, and explored. She had to smile on seeing his expression: he looked exactly like someone watching an experiment begin to come off.

“You’re very pretty down here,” he commented, after a bit.

“Thank you,” she said, nonplussed.

“In fact,” he said, in a low, bemused voice, “I think this is the prettiest I’ve seen.”

She had no idea what to say to that. “Seen a lot, have you?” she asked, discomfort tending to sarcasm. She regretted it immediately.

He didn’t seem to be bothered. “Ohhh … I’ve researched,” he said, the smile still faintly audible in his voice. “Checked out the standard references . . . done a bit of hands-on experimentation, that kind of thing.”

“Well, then,” she said. She might as well settle into the paradigm. “What are your conclusions?”

He glanced up, his eyes affectionate. “That I like doing this,” he said, and licked her, tongue running gently over her clit. She squeaked.

“Now, that’s what I like to hear,” he commented, and bent to his task.

He was methodical in his work, pausing at key points to check his progress. If it wasn’t absurd, she would have sworn he was working out an experimental protocol. “Lower?” he would say, and there’d be a sound and a sensation as his tongue advanced or retreated. “Or—higher?”

“You’re asking—a lot—of questions,” she panted out.

“Just trying to get it right,” he replied, sounding pleased with himself. “How’s that?

It was rare in her experience for a man to solicit feedback so directly. He was not unfamiliar with the terrain, and that, plus his obvious acceptance of the idea that he wasn’t going to get everything right just by guessing, strongly suggested that at some point he had been with a woman who wasn’t afraid to give directions.

She was benefiting from another woman’s experiences. The thought was not as unpleasant as she would have expected. Right now, he was with her.

This was John, John doing this to her. A tingling flood swept through her. It was like being ambushed by a wave that broke over her and sank, hissing, into the sand.

“Now that,” she said, when she had got her breath back, “was nice.”

“We aim to please,” said John, from somewhere below her knees. He was moving, now, coming back up her body.

“We succeed, I think,” she said, between breaths. John’s face appeared next to hers, and she ran her fingers down his cheek, cupping it in her hand. “Hello, there,” she said.

“Hello,” he said, and met her halfway for a kiss. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in, and felt him, skin to warm, damp, skin, his weight on her for the first time. It felt good, right, something to savor.

They looked at each other. “Shall we?” he said.

“Yes,” she said.

“Oh, good,” he said.

With a sigh, he pulled apart from her, and moved to the bedside table, taking something out of the drawer. It was a small box of condoms. He stuck his fingernail under the edge of the end tab of the box, separating the glued sections, opening it.

A new box of condoms. Had he bought them for her, for this? When? She sat up on her elbows to get a better view. Could that have been what he bought at the chemist’s this morning? Could he have been that sure of her, that early?

He opened the box, and began fiddling with the little packets. It was all right, she told herself. Better to buy them in advance than not have them when they were needed. She wouldn’t fault the man for living in hope.

She wanted to tell him not to bother, that she had the type of implant that required a PIN number to allow ovulation, but it was better to be doubly safe. One never knew, did one, where someone else had been? They should neither of them be making assumptions.

“Let me,” she finally said, and took the packet from him, extracting the condom and smoothing it down over him. Their eyes met, and they moved, she lying back, he moving to his place between her legs.

He moved into position; she felt a touch, then a pressure, and this was it, this was it!

They both groaned at his entrance. It had been a little while for her. John held himself up on his elbows, trembling slightly. His lips were pressed tightly together. They stayed frozen in place, both getting used to the feel.

“Just go ahead,” she said. “I’m all right.” He gave her a glance that seemed almost desperate, and began to comply.

It was good. It felt right. She delighted in seeing his control stretch thinner and thinner, hearing his breathing speed up, his rhythm grow ragged, seeing him, in flight, raw and vulnerable. When he came it was with a gasp, half voiced, half sigh, as of someone trying to withstand pain.

She stroked his hair, running her hands down his back, offered him kisses, as he recovered. John. New, bare, warm, damp, and languid. Hers.

Next Chapter


( 38 comments — Leave a comment )
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Jul. 22nd, 2007 11:19 am (UTC)
Damn it finishes so soon. But excellent chapter! I am so glad you've updated! Can't wait for the next one!

Jul. 23rd, 2007 01:00 am (UTC)
Thank you!

Love the icon, by the way. :)
(no subject) - neverwinter - Jul. 23rd, 2007 09:51 am (UTC) - Expand
Jul. 22nd, 2007 06:31 pm (UTC)
Beautiful love scene. I've really been enjoying this growing relationship. You're doing terrific work.
Jul. 23rd, 2007 01:02 am (UTC)
Thank you very much. I was very struck by how you handled the love scenes in "Seed Pearls", how you conveyed what was going on in summary and by allusion. This is a bit more explicit, but I tried for some of the same allusiveness.
Jul. 22nd, 2007 07:30 pm (UTC)
Another wonderful chapter, and so well done. As with every other chapter, how things unfold in this one just feel right; the characters are true form, and yet I love the flashes of seduction and confidence we see in John. Absolutely brilliant work.
Jul. 23rd, 2007 01:10 am (UTC)
Hmm, yes, I have high hopes that this relationship will bring out new sides to John, at least when he's alone with Penny. He's been touch-starved, as Penny observes, and it's been a while since he had a relationship.

Thanks for the kind words. This was a tough chapter to get right.
Jul. 22nd, 2007 08:31 pm (UTC)
Lovely, as always. I really like how very much in chararcter it is -- it's not just generic smut, it's obviously these two people approaching things the way they would. It's a little awkward and sweet and very real.

seeing him, in flight, raw and vulnerable

And that's just gorgeous.
Jul. 23rd, 2007 01:13 am (UTC)
Thank you so much. The characterization was hard to get right, as kalleah could tell you. And the messed-up ear made me twitchy whenever I tried to write.

Thanks again. I always appreciate your comments.
Jul. 22nd, 2007 09:08 pm (UTC)
Lovely, my dear. I know how difficult this chapter in particular was to write and you did it just right.
Jul. 23rd, 2007 01:14 am (UTC)
Oh, thank you so much! I hesitated before posting, thinking, "Is it ready? But she would have said if anything was still wrong with it." I'm glad I got it right at last.

Jul. 22nd, 2007 09:35 pm (UTC)
*gasping, panting, sighing*

Wow! Beautiful. Loved it.
Jul. 23rd, 2007 01:16 am (UTC)
Thank you! Sounds like I got it right!
Jul. 22nd, 2007 10:39 pm (UTC)
Tugging on the heart strings comes to mind.

This was not smut… it was far better than smut! This was the dream situation for a girls first experience. It was eloquent and raw all the while making sure that you stayed perfectly true to the characters.
And the beautiful thing is, is that it isn’t about perfect sex because when is sex ever perfect?...instead it is about two people finding each other. And what made me think that? These words: " It was good. It felt right."

You've sated my habit for a bit =0)

Jul. 23rd, 2007 01:27 am (UTC)
Tugging on the heart strings comes to mind.

Well, good!

This was the dream situation for a girls first experience. It was eloquent and raw all the while making sure that you stayed perfectly true to the characters.

Thank you very much. I hope I wasn't unclear or misleading about it being the first time: Penny wasn't a virgin. But, I hope it portrayed a meaningful, special first experience with John.

You've sated my habit for a bit =0)

I feel a little guilty about causing that habit -- but not too much. :)

You always say such very nice things -- thanks for commenting, and for reading.
(no subject) - blondie_lottie - Jul. 23rd, 2007 02:42 pm (UTC) - Expand
Jul. 23rd, 2007 01:01 am (UTC)
[happy sigh] Just gorgeous. Warm and emotional and tender, but there's also possession and passion there. I love the way you portray these characters; they feel so real to me.
Jul. 23rd, 2007 01:35 am (UTC)
Warm and emotional and tender, but there's also possession and passion there.

I was looking forward to reading your reaction, because you always say such nice things. What you're describing was what I was aspiring to convey, but wasn't sure I'd be able to. I'm glad it worked for you.

I love the way you portray these characters; they feel so real to me.

They seem real to me, too. Sometimes I struggle because the words just aren't there to convey exactly the expression I see on John's face, or his tone of voice. It's been like being behind the camera, watching it happen.
Jul. 23rd, 2007 03:24 am (UTC)
Oh my goodness. I don't even know what to say. Well, I'll start with how you had them experiencing all those doubts, and questions of having sex for the first time with some one. That was so honest and perfect, and it made me smile. Second, style? It just keeps getting better and better. I can't wait to read more!
Jul. 24th, 2007 01:04 am (UTC)
Thanks so much! Thanks for commenting, and for reading!
Jul. 23rd, 2007 06:20 am (UTC)
Beautiful chapter. I'm really loving this story and I'm sorry I don't leave comments as often as I should. Your characters are marvelous and can't wait to see for the next chapter.

Again congrats on a fantastic chapter!
Jul. 24th, 2007 01:06 am (UTC)
Thanks so much. I appreciate the encouragement. I'll be trying (again) to post chapters more frequently than in the past.

Thanks again!
Jul. 24th, 2007 01:32 am (UTC)
I was so happy to see a new chapter. This story is like a lovely interlude from the madness of everyday life. And it was a beautiful sex scene. I love how John develops a shadow of his father's penchant for talking once he starts taking his clothes off. Looking forward to more!
Jul. 24th, 2007 01:32 am (UTC)
And P.S. Sorry about your ear. Hope it's better.
(no subject) - np_complete - Jul. 27th, 2007 12:26 am (UTC) - Expand
Jul. 24th, 2007 03:36 am (UTC)
Oh, brilliant and lovely and better than a pint of ice cream. How I wish there were more people who could write like you, myself included. The love scene between John and Penny was very well-written and didn't have any of the cliches that even the best writers fall victim to. This chapter and the 2 preceeding chapters were so worth the wait of switching over from one crappy internet connection to a different, much better one. Can't wait for the next chapter. =)
Jul. 27th, 2007 12:21 am (UTC)
Thank you! I had to go back to dial-up briefly in March after having to move unexpectedly, so I know what you mean about the relief of getting a better one.

I'm averaging about two weeks between chapters ... I'm trying to speed it up, but I seem to need a weekend to write each chapter and then a weekend to rewrite before posting.
Jul. 24th, 2007 12:51 pm (UTC)
This whole relationship has developed so organically, and it's so beautifully paced. It's so demanding to write any kind of sex scene; this one avoided the cliches and I felt I was there with them at every moment, aware of the changing expressions on their faces. The dialogue was particularly good; just the right combination of experience and innocence, anxiety and confidence.

John is very distinctly an original character, but also his father's son. It's very subtle, the way you pick up references and then give them a spin unique to him.
Jul. 26th, 2007 12:45 am (UTC)
It's very subtle, the way you pick up references and then give them a spin unique to him.

It's very interesting you saying that. Writing John has been a very organic process for me. While I wouldn't say there's been no calculation of effect, it's been more a question of accurately conveying what I see and hear in my mind's eye. John came into being almost entirely fully-formed, and I've found depth in him as I've sought it.

So I would be interested to hear about some of the evocations of the Doctor you've perceived, especially in this chapter. Some of them may have been my unconscious mind at work.

Thank you very much for your thoughtful comments on this and the other chapters. I enjoy your work a good deal, so it means something to me to receive such kind remarks from you.
Jul. 28th, 2007 02:22 pm (UTC)
"I want to see you," he said, and although she could not see his eyes, his voice was naked.

For me, that is David Tennant to the life. The ability to speak volumes without actually saying the words. A lot of it is in the way you handle his dialogue. Despite all the verbal gymnastics, I imagine Ten being very solemn, almost reverent, when faced with Rose in the bedroom for the first time. There's a deep stillness at the heart of him. I loved John' politeness, his slight formality - "May I?" and "We aim to please" and the way he referred to his past sexual experiences as research. All these things appear to distance him, to make him stand outside the experience, watching himself, but in fact he's very intense and centered.

I get the feeling he's better at defining what he wants than his father. It may take him a very long time to come to the point - he's extremely introverted and cautious, and deeply sensitive, but once he does, there's a courage in going for it. Less of Ten's evasion tactics, though you get the feeling that if his dad had been around, John would have picked a few of them up. He's not someone who can feel things without feeling them deeply, and emotionally I think he has more courage than the Doctor.

As for the visual elements, this really struck me -

"She watched him struggle with them, watched the movement of the muscles in his back. She was struck again by how narrow his body was. The light glanced off his naked back and shoulders, pale and undefended, and she was filled with an ache of raw tenderness, acute and unnamable, that felt almost like grief."

That is fantastically put - again, I can see DT very vividly here, and in his long eyelashes and the vulnerability of his thin body, and pale skin.
Jul. 28th, 2007 02:24 pm (UTC)
oh dear, I'm sorry. That last comment was me.
Jul. 31st, 2007 02:48 am (UTC)
First, I want to say I'm sorry it took me a couple of days to respond. I wanted to make sure I did your comment justice.

You must be tapping into my brain waves, because your take on John is exactly right. I quote:

I get the feeling he's better at defining what he wants than his father. It may take him a very long time to come to the point - he's extremely introverted and cautious, and deeply sensitive, but once he does, there's a courage in going for it. Less of Ten's evasion tactics, though you get the feeling that if his dad had been around, John would have picked a few of them up. He's not someone who can feel things without feeling them deeply, and emotionally I think he has more courage than the Doctor.

All of that is quite true (and beautifully put). John is cautious, and it may take him a while to make up his mind. But once he does, he isn't afraid. He makes his leaps -- falls, his father might say -- into the unknown: shyly kissing a sweet, persistent girl, for example, and then leading her to his bed and making love to her.

What amazes me is that you deduced or intuited all that, just from what I wrote. It doesn't seem possible that I could have conveyed all that in seven chapters filtered through the observations of a third party. You must be remarkably sensitive to nuance and implication, and have a powerful imagination.

And you are right, of course, in assuming that John is played by David Tennant. (John's voice is a bit lower than Tennant's, though.) What you describe seeing is what I wanted to convey. I can't tell you how pleased I am at that.
(no subject) - catsfiction - Jul. 31st, 2007 01:52 pm (UTC) - Expand
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