Chapter Text
“Rose, did you finish the lyrics you were working on? I wanna see!”
The blonde looked up at her two friends who were sitting across from her at their favorite chippy, a vinegar soaked chip halfway to her mouth. Devouring the salty fried potato bit first, she nodded and reached into her purse for her little notebook, turning to the correct page before handing it over with a slightly nervous smile.
“Be kind,” she pleaded, then shook her head a second later. “No, wait, don’t. I need to know what you really think before I submit them.”
Keisha, the one who’d asked, was the one who’d told Rose about the contest. A big recording company, Moon Music, was offering five hundred pounds to the winner of their amateur lyrics contest. The winning lyrics would be used as the debut song for their new singer, Dave Proper. Shareen, who looked like the exact opposite of Keisha with her long bleached hair while the other girl’s was short and dark, was obsessed with bands and eagerly looked at Rose’s poem as well.
“Ooh, girl! These are steamy!” said Keisha, fanning herself with one hand, which just made Rose roll her big brown eyes, fringed with darkly mascaraed eyelashes. “Was it hard to write lyrics for a guy, though?”
“Well, it didn’t just come out on the page like that,” said Rose, tucking a strand of her hair behind one ear so she could freely fidget with her hoop earring. “But once I started thinking about what I’d really like a guy to feel about me someday, it was easier than imagining I was a guy.”
She didn’t want to go into details about the process, because it was embarrassing to admit she’d created a dream guy in her head to write for, rather than specifically Dave Proper. He was cute, but not really her type. Her dream guy on the other hand… When she pictured his tall, lithe form, his long, elegant fingers, his strong, warm embrace, his amazing smile, (and nice bum), the words had just flowed.
“Rose, you’re blushing!” said Shareen, smirking.
“Shut up, I am not!” said Rose, throwing a chip at her friend, even though she could feel her cheeks were a bit warm.
She didn’t have a lot of experience with guys, which she thought might hurt her chances of creating lyrics that were good enough. The contest wanted words that were a bit more mature, no fluffy bubblegum pop. Her one failed relationship had been with the plonker Jimmy Stone at the tender age of sixteen. He’d demanded all of her attention and practically forced her to move in with him, which had resulted in Rose not taking her A-levels. When she left him and moved back in with her mother, Rose had been a tad gunshy of starting any new relationships.
“Well, I hope you win,” said Keisha, handing the notebook back to Rose. “Then you’ll become a famous lyricist and get us free tickets to concerts!”
Rose laughed. “We’ll see, I guess.” It was a nice dream. Being a lyricist definitely sounded better than working in a shop, which was what she did currently. She’d love to have a job where she did something creative. Folding and refolding shirts didn’t exactly require tons of brain power. But writing Curse of the Fallen Angel, which was the title she’d decided on, had been exciting.
When they finished their lunch, the three girls walked back to the Powell Estate where they’d all grown up together. Rose waved Keisha and Shareen on ahead, so she could mail her lyrics at the post box.
She bounced on her toes a little, unable to help herself, as she carefully tore along the micro-perforated line in her notebook. She was fishing in her purse for the envelope she’d stashed in there earlier when it occurred to her that maybe she should have typed her lyrics. Surely, the judges would just throw away something handwritten, no matter how good her penmanship was.
The wind gusted through the wide alley formed by the counsel buildings just then, tearing the paper from her hands and carrying it toward the street.
“No!” she cried, running after it. Even if she’d decided to type up the poem, she couldn’t have anyone finding that paper. It had her name and contact information on it, moreover the lyrics were, as Keisha had said, steamy. It would be so embarrassing if someone she knew read them! What if it ended up being her mum?
Rose didn’t even realize she’d run into the street until she heard the screech of car tires against the asphalt and the blare of a horn. Her life didn’t flash before her eyes, but a sudden rush of fear-laced adrenaline punched her in the gut, choking the air from her lungs. She took a step back, as though to run, but her leg wobbled and slid out on some loose gravel, making her fall backwards and land hard on her bum. She squeezed her eyes tight as all sound seemed to stop.
It had happened so fast, a few seconds at most. Then there was a dull roar and warm air wafting around her, but most of all, no pain. Shouldn’t there be pain if she’d been hit by a car? Or maybe she was dead? Easing her eyes open, she saw that she was a mere few feet away from the front bumper of a sleek dark blue sports car. It was the engine she heard, its warmth she was feeling.
Her head jerked up as the driver’s side door open and a tall man stepped out. He was wearing dark blue jeans that fit his slender frame like a second skin, well-worn black chucks, and a long-sleeved white shirt under a black t-shirt with a Beatles logo in white. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes and he was chewing on one corner of his bottom lip, making it look ridiculously pouty. His chestnut hair was carelessly tousled and the sunlight picked out golden strands. Rose was fairly certain she should not be appreciating all of this eye candy so soon after a near-death experience, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Maybe she was dead. Maybe this was the angel that would guide her to heaven.
He looked down at her, taking her in from head to toe. Self-consciously, she tugged at the short skirt she was wearing, her cheeks heating up.
“Good. I’d rather not be a murderer,” he said, his voice light and sardonic at the same time, couched in a smooth South London accent. He pulled off his sunglasses, sliding them over the neck of his t-shirt, revealing eyes like molten bronze. “Are you injured?”
Feeling flustered, Rose struggled to get to her feet without flashing her knickers to the man. “Oh, I’m-- I’m fine-- ah!” A sharp pain lanced her thigh and she sat back down abruptly, grabbing the area with one hand. “My leg,” she said, wincing. “I must have hurt it when I fell down.”
She gasped as he suddenly knelt down in front of her, his hand on her leg just over her knee. This close, she could see the charming smattering of freckles on his pale cheeks and his long eyelashes as he looked down at her thighs.
“Your leg?” he repeated. His hand slid forward, the tips of his fingers going just underneath the hem of her skirt. “Tell me if it hurts.” He moved his hand to the outside of her leg. “Here?”
“Um… I…” Rose struggled for words. She was trembling! She hadn’t been touched like this by a man since Jimmy, years ago. Perhaps that was why the sensations were so startling in their intensity.
“Or here?” His fingers moved to the inside of her leg, to the soft skin of her inner thigh. “Does it hurt?”
She didn’t seem to be feeling any sort of pain anymore. All she could concentrate on was the sound of his soft voice, the feel of his hand… She ducked her head, wishing she could hide her blush somehow. What was wrong with her? She couldn’t seem to get a full breath.
His other hand cupped her chin and suddenly tilted her head up, making her eyes snap open. When had she closed them?
“I won’t know what’s wrong unless you tell me,” he said, his dark eyes intense as they stared into hers. After a pause in which she was still too confused by her reaction to him to properly articulate any thoughts on the pain in her leg, he smirked. “What? Is this exciting you, too?”
If she was blushing before, her face felt like it was on fire now. She jerked back from his grip on her face, exclaiming, “No!” He was no angel, but a demon with an angel’s face!
He had the nerve to chuckle. “From the look on your face, it doesn’t seem like that’s the case.”
Grabbing her hand, he pulled her up with him and helped her to the side of the road. Rose tentatively put weight on her leg and was relieved when she didn’t limp. Maybe she’d just pulled a muscle.
He smiled at her sigh of relief. “You’re a funny girl. Cute, too,” he added, winking at her.
“What?” She was fairly certain she was going to be blushing permanently for the rest of her life after this.
He laughed again. “Unfortunately, I’m very busy today. I can’t take you to A&E myself. But if there’s anything wrong, come find me here.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a plastic tag on a slim lanyard. “I’ll be there for the next two days.”
Rose looked at the paper beneath the shiny plastic. It read Paradox - Two Day Concert - O2 Arena and below that in big block letters, All Areas Pass. While she was examining it, she didn’t see him turn back to his car. When she looked up to ask a question, he’d already left.
She hadn’t even asked him his name. Looking back down at the pass in her hands, she wondered if he might be part of the music industry.
She blinked, reminded. “Ah! My lyrics!” She searched the area, being more careful to look for cars, but it was a hopeless cause. The paper was gone.
* * *
Rose got Shareen to cover for her and tell her mum they were having a girlie night. Rose was almost twenty years old, but Jackie Tyler still had very loud opinions about her daughter going out at night, especially without safety in numbers. She also kept where she was going vague to her friends, just in case the pass she’d been given was a fake, she didn’t want any witnesses to the potential embarrassment.
By the time she managed to slip away from her mum without raising too much suspicion and caught the bus to the O2 arena, the concert was already underway. The man at the door scanned the barcode on the back of her pass and bid her enjoy the show. Rose almost couldn’t believe it when he told her the section her ticket was for was right in front of the stage! She gaped as she walked down the rows of doors, listening to the muted music, the indistinct singing under the roar of the crowd, looking for section A. She’d passed by this area of town very seldomly, so she was unprepared for the reality of how huge the arena was. How was she supposed to find Mr. Sexy in here?
She supposed it didn’t really matter if she ended up not finding him. She wasn’t hurt from the near-accident. She could definitely use this experience as research for future songwriting, though. Just outside the ‘A’ door, she regretted not researching the band before coming. She’d heard of Paradox in passing, they’d just started getting really big, as the size of the arena would indicate.
Pushing through the door, she stood at the back of the section, overwhelmed by the screams of fans all around her, chanting ‘Doctor! Doctor!’ The audience was mostly women, though not exclusively, and Rose suddenly felt rather underdressed in her jeans and pink hoodie. Everyone around her was dressed to the nines, in cute, flirty club-wear. High above the stage hung enormous viewing screens, all of them showing the front man currently singing. He wore tight black leather trousers, slung low on his slim hips, and a long matching leather trenchcoat without a shirt underneath, revealing sparse hair sprinkled across his pectoral muscles and lower, a short happy trail below his navel. He effortlessly worked the crowd with his beautiful, emotional voice and sensual movements.
“I licked your naked silhouette with my tongue, tracing your curves, making you moan as you writhe in restless anxiety,” he sang. “I dig my greedy fingertips into your slender waist as the two of us fall into a sea of insanity. Let us melt, I’ll admit my sins and take my punishment tonight. Make me pant and beg for the sweet honey that drips, the neverending satisfaction that feels so right.”
The lyrics were so adult, it was no wonder they were popular, Rose couldn’t help but feel a guilty twinge of heat low in her abdomen, but it wasn’t just that. Everything about the singer called out to the listener, twining around their heart. It was so easy to imagine that he was singing right to Rose, not to the thousands of people in the arena at large. The naughty warmth he evoked… it was so similar to what she’d felt earlier that day…
She pressed her hands to her cheeks, feeling overheated. She wasn’t used to getting this worked up. Turning back to the door that led out, she thought she’d go to the ladies’ and splash some cold water on her face, that would sort her out…
“For our last number, we have a new song for you…”
She paused. She knew that voice.
“Curse of the Fallen Angel!”
Rose gasped and whirled back around as the band began to play. It couldn’t be!
“I want to ruin you with my love,” he sang. “But my hands make me a liar as I touch you tenderly. I want to steal you away, but I’ll lock you inside my heart instead of locked with me…”
Those are my lyrics! she thought, aghast and utterly confused. Why is Paradox singing my lyrics?
She ran down the aisle and edged her way through the crowd to the barricade, directly in front of the stage. That voice, those movements… She couldn’t tell from far away, but he was so similar. She stared up at the singer intently. Yes! He was dressed flashier and wearing eyeliner, but it was undoubtedly him! Mr. Sexy! He had to have taken her lyrics somehow!
As the song came to a close, he looked right at her with those brilliantly bronze eyes. With a smirk, he hopped down off the stage, the screams growing louder as he stopped right in front of Rose. Cupping her chin, he grinned and said, “I missed you.”
Before she could respond, all the lights blacked out. After the comparative brightness of the stage lights, Rose couldn’t see a thing, but she squeaked as an arm came around her waist and pulled her against a chest that was damp with sweat.
“Ah!” she cried as she was swept up into a bridal carry.
“Shh!” he hissed. He jumped back up on the stage as if she weighed nothing at all.
Afraid of being dropped in the darkness, Rose chose not to struggle, but as soon as she could see again, this nutter was putting her the hell down! What did he think he was doing, carrying her off this way? When her eyes finally adjusted, she saw that they were backstage and Mr. Sexy, or ‘Doctor’ she supposed, set her down abruptly before she could lodge a complaint. He grabbed a towel from a man with a pair of large headphones over his ears, wearing a jacket with “Paradox” emblazoned on it.
“I’ve told you not to jump off the stage, Doctor!” the man said. “You could get swarmed by the fans! Last time, they ruined your costume!”
“I timed it with the blackout, so there wasn’t a problem, don’t gripe at me for something that didn’t happen,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with the towel and then his chest.
The man grumbled, but said instead, “They’re calling for an encore--”
The Doctor’s response was cut off, because Rose was then surrounded by the other members of the band. Having seen them only briefly on the periphery, they seemed larger than life now.
She recognized the lead guitarist first, mostly because he was ridiculously attractive with very dark brown hair, violet-blue eyes, and a Disney Prince bone structure with a cleft chin. Those were some serious cheekbones and dimples. He wasn’t wearing a lot of stage makeup, but he didn’t appear to need it. He grinned at her, blatantly appreciative. “So, this is the Doctor’s--” The american paused, thoughtfully. “Hmm. Who are you exactly?”
A fiery redhead pushed him aside to get a closer look. She was the drummer and the only woman in the band. Her turquoise eyes slid up and down appraisingly, one eyebrow arched in interest. “You’re so young! How old are you?” she asked, unapologetically blunt.
“Donna, that’s not nice,” said the bassist, a blue eyed man with a slightly long nose and sandy hair that had gold sparkles in it. He was wearing eye liner similar to the Doctor’s, though he didn’t pull it off quite as well.
“She’s not exactly known for being nice, mate,” said the rhythm guitarist. He sized Rose up as well, but with a friendly smile. His eye liner was gold, which looked fantastic against his chocolate toned skin and made his dark brown eyes really stand out.
“Oi, shut it, you!” said Donna, giving him a smack in the arm before looking back at Rose. “Seriously, though, you ain’t still in school, are you?”
“Would you lot stop talking like that about my guest?” the Doctor broke in, suddenly. He edged away from a girl who was powdering his face and wrapped his arms around Rose’s waist from behind, causing her to give another startled squeak. “This is our new-found lyricist!” he announced, cheerfully.
“Now, just wait a minute!” she said, breaking free of his enthusiastic hug, bristling a bit at his seemingly unending presumption. “Yes, I wrote those lyrics, but I never gave you permission to use them!”
He pouted a bit, his lower lip looking much too pink and attractive. “Didn’t you like my song?” he asked.
She blushed. ‘Like’ didn’t begin to cover what he’d made her feel out there in the audience. “That’s not it,” she said, looking down at the floor. “It’s just… I’m nobody! A total amateur. Why would you want to sing songs with my lyrics?”
He walked towards her in a manner that could only be called swagger, a sway in his hips that was utterly hypnotic and probably illegal on most of the planet. She felt a wall at her back before she even realized she’d moved away instinctively and he caged her in with a hand on either side of her head, leaning down until he could look directly into her eyes.
“Because I want you,” he said in a low voice that sent shivers down her spine. “I want to hire you to be Paradox’s songwriter.”
The man with the headset tapped the Doctor on the shoulder. “We’re ready for the encore.”
The Doctor straightened and Rose found she could suddenly breathe again as he stepped away. “I’ll get your answer after the show,” he said, waving to her while he headed back out to the stage. “I hope it’s good news!”
“Wait a second!” Rose called, but he was already out in the lights, the cheering and screaming renewed in full force. Just how did he go from being so sexy to so lighthearted in the blink of an eye? It was maddening.
She released a long breath. What was she going to tell him? If she refused, she’d never see him again, and for some reason, that caused a pang near her heart. She wanted to see him. Not just as a fan, a faceless entity in a crowd of thousands… She didn’t know why, but he pulled at her, made her want to know him better. She pursed her lips. He’d already used her lyrics once, if that standard was okay, she might be able to pull it off. Maybe she should at least try…
A balding man in a gray suit jacket over a white Oxford and blue jeans approached her with a mild smile under his slightly creepy mustache, a business card extended in one hand. “Hello. I’m Henry Van Statten, Paradox’s personal manager,” he said in an american accent.
“Oh, hi,” she said, absently taking the card. “Look, about this thing with me writing lyrics--”
“Please go home,” Van Statten interrupted, bringing Rose up short.
“What?”
“The music business is cutthroat,” he said, matter-of-fact. “It would chew up and spit out a pretty little thing like you. And you don’t know the kind of man the Doctor is. He has odd whims from time to time, and that’s all you are to him. He’s known for making scandals with women. If you were someone famous, that might be another story, but you’re not. Someone like you can only bring his image down.”
While she resented being called a ‘pretty little thing’ as if she wasn’t even a person, the rest of what Van Statten had said was true. She didn’t know anything about the Doctor and she was a nobody, she’d admitted it herself.
He patted her on the shoulder. “Please don’t take this personally, I’m not saying this to hurt you, it’s just the way it is. I’m warning you because I doubt you even realize that he’s just playing with you.”
“Yeah,” she said, softly, her eyes on the floor. “Um… Thanks. Sorry.”
Turning away from the stage area, Rose hurried deeper backstage until she was almost running for the first door marked ‘exit.’ How could she have been so stupid? To think even for a second that she had a shot at doing something amazing like writing songs for a band that could fill a huge arena with people.
The Doctor had put stars in her eyes, that was all. She’d become infatuated at first sight and it had blinded her to the harsher realities of the situation. He was famous, he could have anything he wanted. There was no way he’d really want her. He wasn’t someone she could possibly reach. What had even been the point in coming to the show?
Dashing tears from her eyes, she headed for the bus stop that would take her home.
* * *
“What do you mean, she went home?” the Doctor exclaimed as he shrugged out of the leather trenchcoat in the band’s dressing room. He tossed it to Amy, Rory’s girlfriend who helped them backstage, and she flinched as it landed on her head. He barely spared her an apologetic glance as she tugged it off, her ginger hair a bit disheveled, before turning his attention back to Van Statten, the one who’d told him his quarry had left.
“You were too pushy,” said Jack, who was busy getting out of his own costume. They’d all been together for so long, it was old hat for the men and women to see each other in their underwear. Well, once Donna had threatened Jack enough times to quit with the lascivious comments, that is. “You need to be gentle with women, especially someone as young as that girl. I had no idea you’d developed a taste for robbing the cradle!”
The Doctor sent him a sardonic look, that said more than words that he wasn’t about to take advice about women from Jack. “To get what you want, sometimes you can’t be gentle about it,” he said.
There was a brief knock at the door and then the stage manager came bursting in. “Guys, the fans who bought the concert CD are asking about the new song. The one that girl wrote the lyrics to.”
With a smirk to Van Statten, the Doctor snapped his fingers and said, “I knew it!”
* * *
The next day, Rose sat in the break room of Henrik’s, her earbuds in as she listened to Paradox’s latest CD on her iPod. She had her notebook in front of her and she tapped her pencil in time to the music, her left hand propping her chin up. Try as she might, no matter what lyrics she began to write for the Moon Music contest, the words sounded too much like Paradox. Like she was writing them for the Doctor.
It was only a few short hours ago that she’d spoken to him, and yet it felt like ages. Or something that happened in a dream. Hazy, distant, not quite real.
She jumped slightly as Keisha plopped down across from her at the break table, unwrapping a sandwich. Rose pulled out one of her earbuds and smiled at her friend, but it felt weak, even to her.
“Whatcha listening to?” Keisha asked, grabbing the iPod and giving the playlist a look. She nodded approvingly. “Nice. When did you become a Paradox fan?”
“Um… Recently.” Very recently.
“Who’s your favorite? I like Jack, the lead guitarist. He’s soooo pretty!”
Rose tried her hardest not to blush. “I-- I like the singer. The Doctor.” Since Keisha knew bands better than she did, she asked, “Why does he call himself that?”
Keisha snorted. “He got asked that all the time in interviews, or at least, in the early ones. Says it sounds more impressive. It was his idea, too, not their manager’s.”
“Yeah, but just ‘the Doctor’? Doctor what?”
“Heh, they’ve tried to keep his real name under wraps, to add to his ‘mysterious charm,’” said Keisha. “But die-hard fans know that it’s John Noble. It was on his and his sister’s first album. Oh, the drummer, Donna? That’s his sister. They debuted as a duo, with him on piano, but when they got signed, they went in a different direction. That’s when they added the other members of the band. Jack’s a family friend, they all grew up together, Rory and Mickey were added by audition.” Her friend lifted one dark eyebrow. “Why the sudden interest, Rose?”
She made up some bollocks about being curious as a new fan. She couldn’t tell Keisha it was because she felt a burning need to know everything about the man called the Doctor. Not just what was in the interviews, more than just watching videos online… She wanted to be right next to him, hearing what he heard, seeing was he saw. Close enough to touch him.
Rose sighed for probably the thousandth time as she headed for the bus stop after work. She was absolutely, completely hopeless. She’d never been the type of girl to moon over celebrities on telly or in films. Apparently, she just hadn’t found the right celebrity. How depressing.
“Hello.”
She stopped dead in her tracks, her head snapping up at the sound of that voice, the voice that wouldn’t leave her mind. She blinked several times because surely she was hallucinating, but the Doctor was still sitting on her bus bench. He had his long legs stretched out in front of him, wearing another pair of skinny jeans, and a tight light blue Oxford. She could almost hear the buttons moaning in protest. He looked so… normal. Gorgeous, but normal. It was no wonder it had taken her a while to recognize him last night. His stage persona was so glamorous, so different from the way he was now.
“Hello,” she said, because it was the only thing she could think of to say.
“Nice day, Rose Tyler,” he said, inclining his head slightly.
“What are you doing here?” She hadn’t meant to blurt it out so accusingly, but there it was. She was too busy trying to ignore the way he said her name, rolling it around in his mouth as though savoring the taste of it.
“Oh, good,” he said, bouncing to his feet and ambling over to her. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to keep up the small talk for long.”
“Small talk?” she asked, drawing her brows together in confusion.
“Apparently, I need to be more ‘gentle’ with you,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I’d rather just get right to the point.”
“Which is?”
He grinned widely, resting one forearm against the bus stop sign as he leaned toward her. “I’m here to kidnap you!”
She gaped at him. “You’re not serious.”
He almost looked hurt. “Of course I’m serious!”
“You can’t just announce to someone that you’re gonna kidnap them!”
“Would you prefer I just grabbed you and ran? I’m open to that.”
“No!” She took a step back, beginning to rethink her whole ‘crush’ on this man. He was clearly bonkers!
He immediately straightened and stepped forward as though afraid of letting her get too far away from him. “I just want to talk. Somewhere private, if that’s all right. I think we got off on the wrong foot, or even several wrong feet, and I’d like to talk to you where others can’t interfere.” He gestured up the street where she recognized his dark blue sports car. “I promise to be the most hospitable of kidnappers.”
His eyes were so big and deep brown, they resembled a sweet labrador puppy’s. She just couldn’t bring herself to say no. Even though her head was saying ‘this is such a bad idea,’ Rose reached out and took his outstretched hand. His smile was totally worth it.
“Good choice,” he said. “Because running away from me is a serious crime.”
Before she could wonder what he meant, he was pulling her along the sidewalk toward his car. The interior smelled like new leather. A state of the art sound system dominated the dashboard. It had so many buttons and gadgets installed, it looked like the console of a spaceship. Watching him handle the sleek wooden gear shift as he drove was much sexier than it should have been, even when he complained about third gear being tricky to find and blaming it on the car, saying it did it on purpose to irritate him.
He drove them across town to a posh flat. The decor was all very modern, done in white and chrome, with a lot of tile. There were bookshelves, but they only held a few books. The rest looked like the kind of generic chotchkies one might find in a home magazine. She suspected that his decorator had put them there and he hadn’t cared enough to replace them with more personal objects. There were a couple of modern paintings featuring a circular motif on the walls, but no photographs.
The one thing that actually looked out of place was the big grand piano near the doors to his balcony. It was spread with sheets of music, one pile even had a pair of rectangular specs laying upside down on it. If anything in the flat looked like it was really his, it was the piano.
She turned around as she heard the clink of ice in a glass. The Doctor was in the open kitchen that looked out over the living room, getting ice from the automatic dispenser in his brushed chrome refrigerator.
“You’re old enough to drink, aren’t you?” he asked over his shoulder.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes. I’m almost twenty.”
“Good to know.”
She tried not to think about what he might mean by that because she knew she’d start blushing again. He brought over two glasses filled with a dark liquid that fizzed and handed one to her, clinking it with his. She lifted an eyebrow while he sipped the drink.
“What is it?”
“Coke.”
“Oh.” She took a sip, then made a face as the unexpected burn of alcohol slid down her throat.
“And a little bit of Bacardi,” he said, cheekily. “Why do you think I asked if you could drink? I’m a responsible adult.”
She just glared at him. It wasn’t that Rose didn’t drink, she enjoyed going to bars and clubs with her friends from time to time, but she hadn’t been expecting the alcohol. Her reaction had been more in surprise than from the actual taste. Honestly, who did that? She seriously doubted the ‘responsible’ part of that sentence.
With a saucy head waggle and a brief lift of his eyebrows, he wandered over to the balcony doors and looked out at the city. “As your kidnapper, my demands are simple,” he said. “Agree to be my songwriter, and you can go home.”
“But I’m--”
“However, your lyrics will have to fit with Paradox’s adult tone.”
Her eyes widened. Sexy lyrics, like the ones she’d been listening to all day? There was no way! “I can’t,” she said, turning to face the bar separating the kitchen from the living room and setting down her drink.
“Why not?”
She fidgeted with her hands, uncomfortable under his scrutiny that she could feel from across the room, even turned away from him. “I… don’t know how to write lyrics like that. It wouldn’t be believable coming from me.”
“The lyrics I used… Was that your first time writing a song?”
“Yeah. How’d you get them, anyway?” she asked, turning back around.
He shrugged. “I saw a piece of paper against the front wheel of my car yesterday before I drove away from you.” That also explained how he knew her name and where to find her. “Imagine my surprise when I picked it up and saw what was on it.” He swirled his drink in his glass. “They were good, Rose. Very good. Especially for a first time lyricist. I don’t think it’s a fluke, I think you really may have a talent for it.”
She couldn’t help but smile at his praise, even if he had nothing to back it up. “I’m sorry, I just… I really can’t.”
“Why?”
Rose sighed in exasperation. “You’re really gonna make me spell it out for you? I’m not experienced enough, okay? I’ve had one boyfriend in my whole life, I was sixteen, and it was an utter disaster. I don’t know anything about men, I especially don’t know what goes on inside their heads, so there’s no way I can write the lyrics you want.”
She stared at his floor, angrily, knowing she was blushing to the roots of her bleached hair. He didn’t say anything back to her. She wished he would just get it over with and tell her he was wrong and that he’d take her home, because standing there wallowing in her embarrassment was awful. At the dull click of him setting his drink aside on a side table, she glanced up.
“In that case,” he said, moving closer to her. “Let me teach you.”
When his fingers went to the buttons of his Oxford, she backed up. The bar hit her in the middle of her back and she caught herself on her elbows when her legs wobbled. Her mouth gaped open as more of his chest came into view, all the while, he moved closer and closer. Finally, he removed the shirt entirely, standing toe to toe with Rose, smiling gently down at her.
“You can use my body to inspire you to write the right kind of lyrics.”
She held up a hand, as if to fend him off. “Now, hold on! I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make fun of me, just because I’m an amateur, and--”
He grabbed her hand and leaned forward, placing it on his chest, near his collarbone. She sucked in a breath, all her words leaving her. His chest hair tickled her palm as he slid her hand down, over his ribcage. Her heart hammered, blocking out all sound, while he guided her hand up again, to touch his cheek. He nuzzled into her touch. Rose shivered.
“Now that you’ve felt a man’s body, how do you feel?” he asked, his voice low and husky. “Tell me.”
“I--” She couldn’t move. Why was she letting him do this to her? “I don’t--”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know,” he said, firmly.
He brought her hand to the center of his chest. Rose turned her face away, closing her eyes. The scent of him surrounding her, like some kind of citrusy soap combined with the musky smell that was just him, the feel of his muscled chest and his steady heartbeat beneath her fingertips… It was so overwhelming. Like he had yesterday, he cupped her chin with his free hand and turned her face back to his.
“Look at me,” he demanded. His long fingers caressed her cheek, then moved lower, to the zip of her hoodie, slowly pulling it down, revealing her light pink camisole. “What do you want me to make you feel?” he asked, looking at her with eyes so dark, they were almost entirely black.
What does he mean by that? How could she tell him when she had no idea the extent of things he could make her feel?
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll have to resort to my own methods,” he said, right before ducking his head and placing his lips at the pulse fluttering in her neck.
Rose gasped at the sensation that burst from the spot, sending shivers down her spine and back up again. She bit her lip, but a soft cry escaped her as he found a place below her ear and dragged his teeth across it. She hadn’t known she could feel this way, she and Jimmy had only fumbled around a bit with their hands, and then he’d ditched her when she wouldn’t go ‘all the way’ with him, leaving her to sort out the flat they’d rented. But the Doctor… this was different on a whole other level. She could feel herself growing wet between her legs and she pressed them together in a vain attempt to relieve the ache that was slowly expanding. She was shaking from the intensity of it as he moved lower, placing a hot open-mouthed kiss to the swell of her left breast, right where her camisole began. She couldn’t seem to find breath to tell him to stop… Truthfully, she didn’t want him to. He might be taking advantage of her, but… she felt like she’d always wanted to be swept away.
In that moment, she was fine with whatever ‘method’ he wanted to use on her…
He lifted his head and smirked. “You’re not just ‘inexperienced,’ are you?” he said, making it sound more like a statement than a question. “You’re a virgin.”
She felt the color drain right out of her face and he chuckled, as if that was all the confirmation he needed.
“That mind of yours is just teeming with naughty thoughts and private fantasies,” he said, touching a fingertip to her nose. “Because you haven’t had sex yet, you spend your time imagining it, all the different ways a person could slowly drive you mad with passion.” He moved away from her and grabbed his shirt, throwing it back on while she sputtered in mortification. “All you have to do is turn those thoughts into lyrics. Just write out your physical desires.”
So, that was what he meant when he said I should use his body to inspire adult lyrics, she thought, miserably. It was just to get me to think pervy thoughts! She turned around to lean her arms heavily against the bar, feeling both relief and an acute sense of disappointment. She gasped as his arms came around her from behind, his chin on her shoulder.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll make sure to drag out all of your desires.” He whispered in her ear, “Shall I be a little gentler next time?”
Her blush returned. “Do you… really think I can write those types of lyrics?”
“I do,” he said. “I’ll help you. For example, a kiss.” He reached up with one hand and traced her mouth, running his thumb along her full lower lip. “When you think about it, just a simple kiss could be boring. Why don’t we change that?” He turned her head towards him. “Come close so you can feel my breath.” He pressed down on her chin until she opened her mouth. “Part your lips slightly.” He moved closer until he was out of focus. “And give me your tongue…”
She found her eyes drifting shut… then there was a rush of cold air as he suddenly stepped away from her.
“How’s that? Have you got at least a phrase yet?” he asked, grinning.
Rose covered her face with her hands. She really thought he was going to kiss her! Instead, he was just really good at embarrassing her.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never been kissed before?” he asked with a laugh in his voice.
“Of course I’ve been kissed!” she snapped, utterly outraged by his behavior. She didn’t add that the kisses had been sloppy and not at all like the enjoyable embraces he’d just subjected her to. And he hadn’t even really kissed her! Her anger only provoked another chuckle from him and she put her hands on her hips. “Just what is so funny?”
He gave her a smile that made her heart skip a beat. “You’re just adorable, that’s all,” he said, shaking his head.
She’d barely known him two days and yet, she could somehow sense that she was seeing glimpses of John Noble, who smiled like a normal person, not the Doctor persona from the stage who was dark and mysterious. She wondered if he let anyone else get close to him like this, and it made her feel special. It made her want to understand him, the unknown John within the unknowable Doctor.
But in order to do that…
“I’ll do it,” she said, standing up to her full height and looking him right in the eye. “I’ll become Paradox’s lyricist.”