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Six hours in, Pete’s World was everything the metacrisis Doctor thought and feared it would be. A long walk from the cold, windy beach had brought them to a seaside inn; small, rustic, and painfully familiar to the Tyler family from their last trip to these cold shores. The accommodations added a whole host of unpleasant memories to further confound the new Doctor’s already confusing relationship with Rose.
Time in Pete’s World ran ahead of the prime universe, so whereas they’d just left July a few short hours ago, here they had just come upon the eve of the new year. Really, they were just lucky it hadn’t snowed… yet. If all went according to plan, as per Pete’s instructions via Jackie’s cell phone, Torchwood was coming to collect them. Rose and Jackie for debriefing, and himself for a rather forced inspection upon his person.
“Think of it as customs,” Pete had said. “You’re emigrating from your universe to ours. We just want to know who we’re welcoming.”
‘Welcomed’ wasn’t exactly how the Doctor felt in his current position. Thanks to the holiday, there was only one room available at the inn. A suite, thankfully, with an adjoining sitting room. But only one double bed in the bedroom, which Jackie made clear was for herself and her daughter.
And from Pete’s tone regarding the collection procedure, the Doctor was fairly sure these Torchwood agents were none too happy to have their Christmas holiday interrupted by a small thing like the narrowly averted destruction of the multi-verse and associated consequences (i.e. him).
Thankfully, albeit small and remote, the inn had everything the trio needed to refresh their tired bodies. A full Norwegian New Year’s Eve feast in the dining room with visiting strangers, a hot shower, and a place to lay their heads.
Back in the room after dinner, the ladies offered him the shower first, presumably to have a mother-daughter talk. The Doctor didn’t question, dutifully disappearing into the en suite to scrub the evidence of battle and exertion from his skin.
He tried desperately not to think on the fact that in a few moments Rose would be in this very spot; warm water sluicing down over her naked skin. It was a thought he’d entertained before, but back then it was just a thought -- something he could unfold or dismiss at will. Now, he was learning even a stray imagining of Rose was enough to transport him into a full-blown fantasy.
Not the time, his mind told his body, not with Jackie on the other side of the thin wooden door. The Doctor cleansed himself quickly and didn’t linger, knowing time alone with his new existence would only lead him to more thoughts either inappropriate or maudlin.
Jackie took the shower next and (mercifully) went to bed immediately. Rose took her turn last -- quietly and carefully, lest she wake her mother in the bedroom. Resigned to the end of this strange and life-altering day, the Doctor attempted to set himself up comfortably on the couch in the sitting room.
In readiness for sleep, he divested his jacket and trousers, folding them haphazardly and leaving them on the endtable. But with an exhausted body and a racing mind, he knew sleep would be a hard-won fight tonight.
He was surprised, but secretly elated, when Rose padded out into the sitting room after washing up. He’d assumed she would crash from both the emotional and physical turmoil of the past few days, but instead she had come to check on him. She came right to the couch, not bothering with any lights, and the Doctor immediately sat up, allowing her space to sit down beside him.
Without pretense, she reached for his hand. An echo of his gesture on the beach hours ago... and every time before. “You okay?”
He turned to her, straining to find her gaze in the darkness with new eyes. “Are you?”
“No.” She snorted dismally.
A tense, silent moment passed and she slowly released her grip on his hand. He cringed inwardly at his own response, wishing he could take it back and say something better; something to comfort her.
Then, Rose punched the Doctor solidly in the bicep.
“Oi!” He yelped, flinching away.
She glared at him unapologetically. “That was for saying I couldn’t see you again.”
“Fair enough.”
He rubbed the injured muscle gingerly, noting with some displeasure how the pain lingered longer than he was accustomed. Distantly, he wondered if the skin would bruise.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now,” Rose admitted quietly. “I missed you. So much.” She paused, her voice cracking and it broke his heart just a little bit more. “And I really just want to hold on and never let go. But I also want to scream at you for ages. You were wrong. About so many things.”
He swallowed, gathering his thoughts for a better response than his first attempt. “I’m not going anywhere, Rose. At least, not without you. I’m here, and you can do both, if you want.” He shrugged, smiling faintly to try an add a bit of levity. “Though maybe not at the same time.”
Rose bit her lip, looking every bit the strong fighter trying not to cry. “Can I hug you?”
“Of course,” he replied quickly, already opening his arms in invitation. “Always.”
She launched herself across the short distance separating them, falling into him despite the awkward angle as her arms flew around his neck. It was so achingly familiar, hugging Rose, that the Doctor nearly forgot to breathe for a moment.
When he did, all he could smell was her; generic hotel soap and salt and sand and Rose. Her skin was still warmed from the shower and as she scooted closer, climbing into his lap he realized with some trepidation they were both in just a shirt and pants.
Proprietary warned him to scale back but it had been so long. The human part of him craved touch so much more desperately than he ever had before. And the Doctor had always needed to touch her, even just to hold her hand in his, to remind himself she was there and happy with him. He found himself clinging to her tightly, burying his face against her neck underneath the curtain of her still damp hair.
“I don’t want to cry,” she mumbled against his shoulder. “I’ve cried so much.” She pulled back, shaking her head slightly, dark eyes shining as they met his. So close her breath blew against his chin. “I want…”
She trailed off, her eyes dropping to his lips before her lashes fluttered shut. In the next breath, she was kissing him. No audience this time, just the two of them in the dark and stillness of a cold winter night. Here in the quiet, every sound and sensation was magnified. The weight of her legs bracketing his hips, the soft touch of her fingers threading into his hair, and the warm, wet feeling of her mouth opening against his.
There was an ease in which their kiss progressed that belied the newness of this intimacy. Rose knew what he wanted before he did, her tongue stroking just there and her teeth scraping oh so gently against his bottom lip. The Doctor followed her lead willingly, lost to her skillful motions; each soft press of lips, sharp nip of teeth, and slick glide of tongue sparking the fire higher and hotter.
It was addictive, giving over fully to passion, and he didn't realize quite how far gone they were until Rose's hand snuck down between them, palming the erection straining against his pants.
“Rose!” He gasped, trying to regain a thread of his wits. But she rocked her hips forward, trapping her hand between them and the simple friction was quickly driving him mad. “Jackie,” he protested weakly.
His new human life wouldn’t make it through the rest of his first day if her mother caught them.
“Don’t care,” she groaned into his mouth. Rose sat back slightly, affording just enough room to guide his hand between her legs, his fingers just brushing the soaked fabric of her knickers. “Want you.”
There were warning bells sounding in the back of his mind, that maybe this was too soon; too rash and impulsive. But oh, how he wanted her; how he’d dreamed of this possibility in so many lonely nights after losing her. Not knowing what might happen tomorrow, he felt obliged to take a chance -- a lesson learned in their time apart.
Despite the risk of discovery, the Doctor found himself meeting her heated stare as he tugged the crotch of her underwear aside and slid his fingers along her slippery folds. His eyes finally adjusting to the dark, he watched raptly as her eyes squeezed shut and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Still he heard it, the low rumbling moan caught in her throat.
“Can you be quiet?” he asked on a whisper.
Rose nodded emphatically, trying to convince him or herself he couldn’t be sure. With his inferred permission, her hands dove for his pants, pulling the waistband away and freeing his hardened length from its restricting confines. She stroked him experimentally and his head fell back against the cushions at the delicious feelings her touch evoked.
Both of them were panting in the warming air between them, struggling to stay quiet and discreet. There was a an exciting, forbidden atmosphere to their activities and the Doctor felt so young in that moment; as though he could easily be the eager teenager despite his myriad remembered experiences. But here with Rose tonight, longing and wanting and finally relishing the pleasure of joining... this was his crash course in humanity.
Shifting on his lap, Rose moved his right hand away and he only vaguely realized he was still distractedly touching between her legs. She stilled the movements of her own hand, rising up on her knees into position.
“Ready?” she breathed huskily.
For a moment the Doctor could only stare, slack-jawed, wondering how they’d reached this moment without him knowing. In his fantasies, he’d always had such plans -- hours of foreplay driving her into a frenzy, teasing her with his fingers and tasting her on his tongue -- but none of them included shagging for the first time on a couch with her mum in the next room. Such was life; or his new life, apparently.
He answered before his brain could make a mess of it. Gave Rose the only answer he could ever have for her: permission, willingly given and heartfelt, for his body, his soul, his entire being.
“Yes.”
With a satisfied smile, Rose nodded slightly and sank down on him, her tight heat enveloping his cock inch by agonizing inch. The Doctor dropped his head to her shoulder and his hands flew to her waist, gripping tightly for some purchase to ground him against the torrent of perfect pleasure that was being surrounded by Rose Tyler. It was overwhelming; entirely too much for his hazy mind to process… he loved it; loved her, loved each tortuously sweet moment prolonging their coupling.
She didn’t move at first, just holding him close and enjoying the same bliss of finally coming together. When the moment had passed, she tried to raise her hips, but her knees sunk into the soft, worn cushions of the couch beneath them. In an effort to help, the Doctor attempted thrusting his hips upwards to meet her, only to find he too sunk down into the plush cushions, finding no give our bounce to the upholstery after so many years of heavy use.
He lifted his head, meeting her eyes and finding her mouth twisted in amusement, trying desperately not to laugh. When she saw him, though, she broke down, giggling quietly and quickly muffling the sound into his neck. The Doctor chuckled too, drowning his laughter in her neck also, a groan breaking through as her mirth made her tremble deliciously around him.
“All these years I finally have you,” Rose muttered dryly. “And we can’t even shag properly.”
He hummed in rueful agreement against her skin. “I have an idea about that.”
“Oh?” she chirped, sounding a bit more hopeful. “Do share with the class.”
“Erm…” he began intelligently, his face flushing bashfully at his own idea.
Instead of fumbling over the words, he lifted Rose off him, gasping mournfully along with her as his length slipped free. She took a moment to remove her askew knickers fully, placing them atop the pile of his clothes before returning to the couch. He used his hands to guide her and she moved dutifully, allowing him to mold her body like clay. The Doctor began to maneuver her to her knees and he could tell when she caught on, her breath hitching suddenly.
“This okay?” he asked hesitantly.
“Yeah,” she rasped, and the ardor in her voice made him think it was more agreeable than she might readily admit.
Rose positioned herself on the couch, knees firmly planted and hips rising high in the air before him. She rested her elbows heavily on the arm of the sofa, her back angled down. When she was satisfied with her posture, she turned her head back to look at him over her shoulder. The Doctor couldn’t remember any sight nearly so erotic.
He reached out a hand first; a greeting, a gentle warning, his palm rubbing soothingly along the smooth curve of her bum and his fingers curving delicately around her hip. His breath seemed to stop in his chest, the primal urge to claim her at odds with the overpowering tender affection he felt for her. The Doctor moved as though a man possessed, entranced by the spell of love and arousal. He took length in hand, lined it up and teased the head of his cock at her entrance.
She exhaled noisily, a soundless moan and a plea for more wrapped all in one, and pushed her hips backwards. He fought not to cry out as he slid inside her welcoming heat again. Rose dropped her head, burying her mouth in the crook of her arm to stifle any noise she was tempted to make. It was like a silent challenge to the Doctor, daring him to make her want to scream.
He started slowly for his own sanity, wanting so much to make this last. Long, slow strokes in and out; a languid pace. Rose trembled with restraint beneath him, needing more but accepting his rhythm with the hope of an escalating tempo. The Doctor satisfied her silent plea, thrusting faster and deeper until the sounds of slapping flesh were growing worryingly loud in the quiet room.
Even so, neither could really be bothered to care, too swept up in the ecstasy of their coupling. All that mattered was the pleasure they found in one another, the burning, spiraling pressure coiling in their bodies and begging for release.
Rose dropped her shoulders down further, bringing her hands from the armrest to the couch and deepening the sharp angle of her bowed back. She buried her face in a throw pillow, crying out as his cock stroked a sensitive spot within her, sending shocks of pleasure with his now rapid thrusts.
Perfect, was her last thought before she sobbed her release into the pillow, her whole body shuddering with relief. The Doctor reveled in the feeling of her sex pulsing around him, grunting louder than sensible with his final thrusts before he too fell, spilling inside her with a helpless sound that echoed in her heart as well as the throb of her inner muscles around him.
He said her name, then, with such wonder and adoration that she nearly crumbled.
Rose leaned forward, letting his length slip free once again, and turned in his arms, embracing him with such force that he fell back onto the couch behind them. He immediately cradled her in his arms, rubbing her back comfortingly.
“I love you,” she affirmed solemnly, holding him tightly as though he might disappear.
He took a shaky breath, combing his fingers through her hair. “I love you too, Rose,” he confessed. “Even before. Even if I didn’t say it. I hope you know that.”
Closing her eyes, she savored the feeling of having him so close. “Yeah.”
Making love to him was everything Rose had hoped it would be. Still, she wished a little bit that this first time, fragile and vulnerable as they were, she could have faced him, safe in the shelter of his arms. She felt maybe he hoped for the same thing, in the careful way he treated her and the way he enveloped her so quickly afterwards.
Now, she was a little clammy and exhausted but also incredibly satisfied. Rose would have been content to fall asleep right where she was, if not for their rumbled, half-clothed appearance and the wet, sticky spot on the Doctor abdomen beneath her. As she sat up, she couldn’t really see it as an inconvenience; the little pool of their combined fluids was proof -- this was real, not a fantasy or a dream.
He was in a different form than she expected, but the Doctor was really with her. He loved her, had made love to her, and in this moment Rose was happy.
She smiled down at him, a gorgeous, brilliant grin that he mirrored immediately.
“Hatsu egao,” the Doctor said, tracing her smiling lips with his fingers.
“What’s that mean?” she wondered aloud.
“When the Japanese celebrate the new year, they pay special attention to every ‘first’ on New Year’s Day. First sunrise, first dream…” He grinned, smoothing his thumb gently across her lower lip. “First smile.”
Rose ducked her head, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. This was new, the Doctor doting on her openly, and yet so familiar; a natural progression of their flirtations over the years. She spotted a tissue box on the old coffee table, thankfully within arm’s reach. She grabbed a few sheets, attending to the mess on his skin while he pulled a few to swipe between her legs; though his actions seemed to be as much about teasing her oversensitized nerves as much as cleaning her up.
She flashed him a cheeky smirk. “First shag of the new year?”
“Hime hajime,” he supplied playfully. “But that’s the colloquial expression.”
They disposed of the soiled tissues in the wastebasket and Rose cuddled back into her spot atop him, still vibrant in the post-coital afterglow and content to talk with the Doctor again. She missed his presence and conversation as much as his touch and it felt good to listen to him share his knowledge with her once again.
“Why all the firsts?” she asked plainly.
He smiled softly, eyes sparkling with affection, and traced his fingers lightly against her cheek. “Because how you begin is supposed to pave the way for the rest of the year. Starting on a laugh, on a smile is a good sign of things to come.”
“So that there will be more laughing, more smiling?”
“Exactly.”
She leaned down with a playful grin. “More kissing, more shagging?”
“Absolutely,” he agreed happily.
Rose captured his mouth, the contact sudden but not unexpected. He opened his mouth to her instantly and it was so sweet being able to snog him again and whenever she wanted. She had missed this before and made a note that next time they shagged there would definitely be a great deal of this.
“First kiss?” she questioned against his lips.
“Hatsu kissu.”
She pulled back, fixing him with a skeptical look. “No way.”
He shrugged. “They’ve adapted the Western term. Hatsu kuchizuke would also be correct, but rarely used.”
“And the sunrise, that’s supposed to be good luck?”
He brightened. “Hatsuhinode, oh yes. People will climb mountains and drive to the coast just to see it.”
Rose perked up. “We’re on the coast.”
“We are.”
The smile spread slowly across the Doctor’s face, his excitement only fuelled by hers. Oh, how he’d missed this give and take; he felt so unworthily lucky to be with her again.
She sat upright, pulling him with her. “Let’s go,” she decreed, with more enthusiasm that she probably ought to after everything that had happened today. But this was Rose; beautiful, impossibly amazing Rose that could always be counted on to surprise him. “I want to watch the first sunrise with you.”
In that moment, there was nothing the Doctor wanted more. Though he did feel he’d already seen the first sun rise in this world already, just by being graced with her smile. For him, hatsu egao and hatsuhinode were one and the same.