Chapter Text
The virus hits six months after Rose and the Doctor settled in Pete’s World. It’s irritating because no one will listen to him. One tiny mistake calling the US President a Slitheen while hurling a jar of gherkins at him and apparently one was labeled unstable. Thankfully, the Doctor had Rose on his side.
Rose took charge. Something she was used to during what everyone now called her “Dimension Cannon” phase. Rose rolled her eyes at that. Defender of the Earth was more accurate. Nonetheless, with the Doctor around, taking charge was practical. Especially with the Slitheen gherkin incident. When the pandemic was upon them, Rose knew the Doctor could solve it. If they’d trust him. Which neither their country’s President or UNIT did.
Thus, Rose needed a plan. Too many had died already and she wasn’t ready to watch this world collapse over something the Doctor could stop. There was no way she was spending quarantine locked up in a tiny flat with a Time Lord Meta crisis who fluctuated with bouncing around with enough energy to fuel all of London, anxiety attacks, or his emo tendencies to sit around listening to Snow Patrol. The world needed saving. Whether or not the powers that be liked it, Rose and the Doctor would save it.
The solution was an old Torchwood base in Scotland located in a 17th century castle in Braemar. Drafty but secure, it had a full lab in the dungeon. And was far away enough away from London, so they could work without interruptions. Well, it had another plus. It was far from her mum who’d been whinging at the Doctor nonstop about his presidential faux pas, and how he needed to do right by her daughter.
The base equipment was subpar, according to the Doctor. It needed to be improved and thus he spent the first few weeks settling in and making everything more Doctor friendly. Rose helped but mainly she took down time by learning to bake bread, chocolate biscuits and marathoning shows she’d missed while saving the multii verse.
The Doctor, being the thoughtful alien boyfriend, gave her interstellar Netflix. She’d missed watching The Six Moons of Patoosh. Slightly different than her universe but about the same story where Venusia and Lorena were stranded in village with characters who reminded her of growing up on the Powell Estate. Not a bad way to spend quarantine while the Doctor cursed, soniced, and stress ate her baked goods.
But not everything was him in his lab and her baking and netflixing. Brilliant lab work and studying the virus whilst he zoomed with other scientists around the world, still left the Doctor and Rose with more time on their hands. And time on their hands in their very large, empty castle meant sometimes, they let their freaky sides out.
After traveling through time and space adventuring, fixing time lines, landing in prison a few times, and often in tight quarters, sometimes with a lot less clothes than they started with, built sexual tension. The full Time Lord Doctor may have repressed his desires using alien biology. But Rose’s Doctor and his Meta Crisis biology leaned toward human and was less repressed. Much to Rose’s satisfaction.
The line had already been crossed after a particularly long day at UNIT listening to new protocols about alien relations, cybermen incursions and how best sniff out megalomaniacs who wanted to take over the world with dodgy science.
A bored Doctor is never a good thing. Especially after the Slitheen Gherkin incident. No one was keen to sit by him during the conference. Except Rose. He was a bored Doctor with a tablet. And after hacking God only knows what, decided to play a game called how to get Rose Tyler hot.
Not that it took much when he was dressed in his new very tight-fitting navy pinstripe suit, loose tie and collar. She could glimpse that bit of neck where she’d marked him in a marathon make out session in the lift. Then came sexting. No one sexted like a man who loved words.
How I hunger to devour you
With sweet luscious lips so soft
Arousal burns though me like regeneration
Breathing you in, time binds us like silk ties
Silk pales to me sliding down your body and parting your knees
My tongue yearns to lave slick honeyed Rose
Laving and licking, until my face is coated in the essence of your arousal
At which point Roses essence definitely slicked between her legs causing her to need a break. Funny how he had a temporal implosion hit at the exact same time. Which they resolved in her office.
Her desk pad bore the mark of shame. Or not shame, more like Rose Tyler finally getting laid after years of wearing out a few personal stress relief devices. And then they went home to toss out the gadgets and realized what it meant when the flood gates were open for alien sexing. Yeah, they had lots of sex during quarantine.
The castle offered so many opportunities for bored adventurers like them. First off, the care takers were social distancing so weren’t around much. After hours in the lab, the Doctor bounded up the stairs and tossed his coat on the stairs as he ambled into the massive two-story library. Netflix on pause, it was decided a christening was necessary.
They were inspired by the film Rose had been watching.
“Ohhh The Mummy,” he breathed and smirked as he picked up a dodgy looking book, they’d pulled off the shelf a few days earlier, just in case. And fuck her side-ways if the Doctor wasn’t the perfect book smart Evie about to read the Book of the Dead while Rose played the dashing Rick O’Connell ready to fight off Imhotep.
“That looks like the Book of the Dead, love,” Rose walked over with a sway of her hips, thick socks and leggings hardly hero material, but she’d make it work “And looks like you’ve already been naughty given we appear to be in one of the plagues. How ever shall we save the world?”
The Doctor, adjusted his glasses and held up the large black book with gold embellishment. “Ahh easy to mistake. This my dear, is the Sexual Life in Pharaonic Egypt. The Turin Erotic Papyrus Debate.” He walked over to her and tossed his already unbuttoned oxford on the sofa. “The only thing it raises is well…me. Page thirty-four. Pity we don’t have a Chariot.”
“Bet we can make do with that half round Victorian chair in the corner.” Rose pulled off her oversized navy Henley, one of his she’d borrowed. He licked his lips staring at her bare breasts. Braless quarantine was working out for her even if her nipples hardened at the chilly castle air. They wouldn’t be cold for long with the way he was looking at her.
“Things might get out of control if you read that book, or get you know, aroused over pictures of horny ancient people,” Rose enunciated plucking the book from his grasp and paging through several images depicting couples enjoying carnal delights. She turned the book at an angle and eyed him.”
“Quite the creative artist. Vivid depictions, extraordinarily limber in the Tanite dynasty. Think you can handle it my swashbuckling heroine, defender of brainy if not jeopardy friendly bibliophiles.” The Doctor peeled off his undershirt, dropping it to the lovely hardwood floor.
“It’s up to me to keep you safe and keep that mouth of yours busy. Lest you unleash any curses on this world. I think I can swash your buckle for the good of the planet.”
Rose shoved down her leggings and knickers but paused at her thick socks. Cold feet didn’t sound sexy. So she hopped on one foot pulling leggings over the other sock covered foot.
“Socks are important for swashing,” she grunted as the Doctor, trousers and pants shoved down steadied her. She looked up at his toasty sock covered feet. Blue socks with red roses on them.
“I can’t be stopped from reading the illicit book without warm feet.” He wiggled sock enclosed toes at her. Rose snorted before kicking aside leggings and shoving him back against a bookshelf lined wall for a proper snog. One knee nudging between this leg did indeed confirm something was rising and thankfully it wasn’t a vindictive mummy.
Yearning for some heat and friction, Rose tilted her hips to pin him against the wall of books. She distracted him with a good parry and trust of tongues ending with a groan as she rolled his pouty lower lip between her teeth. Luckily, her swashing was making a point as his hands took hold of her arse.
He was such an tits and arse alien. Who had a thing about her raking her nails across his scalp. And yelping when she tickled his side on her way down to move things toward her personal vortex.
After much groping, and running her teeth across his neck. Rose sucked on a particularly erogenous zone she found one night after he fell into an emo state over missing his original long swishy coat. He growled in the back of his throat, one hand hitching her thigh up over his hip and flipped then around until books crashed down around them.
They broke apart as Hamlet thudded on top of his head.
“Blimey.” He rubbed his head and Rose examined him for any bumps. None were found.
“You’ll live, it was just a paperback. Now I believe we were swashing your buckle.”
“Maybe not against a wall of possibly heavy books. Good old Will Shakespeare might be jealous.” He tugged her away eyeing a few upper shelves muttering he’d be having a look later.
“No offense Will, but a woman has needs here,” Rose called out as a dirty grin emerged on her lovely Doctor who she had plans for that didn’t include long dead playwrights.
In homage to the notorious Turin Papyrus, Rose ended up on her knees on the half circle chair making do for a chariot.
After Rose tightened her grip on the back of the chair, the Doctor slid his hands from her hips down right where she wanted him. God, she loved it when he muttered about temporal maintenance, sliding his fingers into her wet core, pressing and scrapping his nails until her toes curled.
Rose closed her eyes and visualized horses pounding ahead, his hot breath panting on her shoulder. One swiped of his thumb as he murmured, temporal couplings aligned and she shuddered, clamping her thighs around two fingers he curled deep inside her. Spasms and liquid warmth washed over her.
“Almost to the world saving,” his voice was so tight and strained as his erection nudging her arse.
“Got to hurry before there’s paradox. Must fuck like an ancient Egyptian,” she called out and then giggled.
“The Bangles now?” He groaned, his fingers digging into her hips. “Now I have that pop song stuck in my head.”
“Sorry, love overwhelmed by brilliant shagging. Please continue.” She laughed more, shaking against a part of him that clearly wasn’t bothered by her bad role play.
“Right,” His voice was rough and his cock hard enough Rose knew he wouldn’t last long. His fingers tracing the base of her spine and slid to her hips digging his blunt nails into her flesh until Rose lost herself to the sensation. Her knees lifted from the cushion and just as she lost her grip, he slid home inside of her. Rose gasped and hung on for dear life as her knees found leverage. Fuck but he was on a mission.
After a few dep breaths he nipped at her shoulder. He began moving, one hand sliding back to her drenched clit and oh how Rose loved him.
He moved with an easy, smooth rhythm and chariot sex was taking on new meaning. Plunging and filling her, his finger flicked her bundle of nerves until one vigorous move, he screamed and Rose lost all coherence. She was vaguely aware of a cracking noise and her voice making garbled sounds before she tumbled to the ground in splintered antique chair with the Doctor’s gangly limbs tangled with hers.
After she caught her breath, she looked up at his heavy lidded, post coital stupor smile. Something gouged her side and she shoved him over. A broken chair leg, at least she thought.
“Um,” she grasped for words, her pulse rate easing. “I think we broke the chariot.”
He giggled in that high-pitched way that inspired here to do the same. They both guffawed and rolled off wincing at sharp splinters of wood.
“I think we owe someone a chair.” Rose eyed the tufts of stuffing and ripped brocade.
The Doctor’s glasses were askew and he squinted. “I don’t think it was authentic.” He pulled a tag out. “Nope! Rubbish recreation.”
“Next time we stick to something solid.” She shivered as her sweat slicked skin chilled in the old castle air.
“Hot toddy?” he asked eyeing her goosebumps. “Funny phrase that. From India, the toddy was a hot alcoholic beverage from the sap of palm trees, water, sugar and spices. Don’t have quite that, but I can whip together cocoa, whiskey and cinnamon.” He jumped up, pulling Rose with him.
Rose hummed and curled up in his arms, nuzzling his chest. “I like me a good we shagged and save the world cocktail.”
But that was not the last of sexing away quarantine boredom. There were many rooms to be christened. The kitchen island debacle where the Doctor learned granite was unbearably cold on one’s arse, even when playing sexy chef. Stair shagging was bad for one’s back. They fell off the formal living room sofa and rolled across toward the fireplace. Not bad, toasty warm on the thick wool rug. Until a pop off burning wood singed his hip. Rose enjoyed playing nurse even if he was whinging a bit about tender meta crisis flesh.
The list went on and so did the shagging. But it wasn’t all shagging. They did need to eat and save the world. It was a long quarantine and many more things entertained them in between.