who fic: "Maybe Angel" (Ten/Tosh, NC17)
Oct. 3rd, 2013 08:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fannishlisstitle: Maybe Angel
author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fannishliss
rating: Explicit
pairing: The Tenth Doctor/Toshiko Sato
Summary: Tosh is pondering her quandary when she's seduced by a man named John.
Requested bydevelish1 -- I hope it tickles your fancy!
More Notes at the end.
---
"My mum loves jazz," Tosh said, apparently to her drink.
"Yeah?" the man at the bar next to her said. His tone was a bit bland, a bit interested. Tosh didn't really care. She just needed to talk. He was there, and if he heard her, that was okay, and if he didn't that was okay too.
"We came here together a few times," Tosh said.
"Mum and daughter jazz nights, eh?" the man commented.
"Yeah," Tosh answered, surprising herself with a laugh.
"I like singers," the man said. "Instrumentalists are fine too, but with jazz, I just love the human voice, the sonic quality of it."
Tosh's glance flew up like a startled bird. She took a sip of her drink, a tiny sip. Her mum was partial to frozen, fruity drinks, like a piña colada or strawberry daiquiri. The man's drink was something like that. Tosh preferred a drink that didn't hide the taste of its liquor. It seemed more honest, less like deception.
This evening Tosh had compromised with the new popular drink, the caipirinha, that flavored cheap Brazilian rum with muddled lime and sugar. It was sweet and it had a kick and Tosh respected it as she tried to enjoy it.
The singer took a break. The bar suddenly got a little quieter as the music shifted from live to recorded.
"I'm John, by the way," the man said.
"Jane," Tosh said. She didn't know why the lie had slipped out, so easily. Yes she did.
"Hello, Jane." The man had a funny way with speaking. He spoke as if every word was its own curiosity, as though he was listening to himself as he spoke and every word should be evaluated for its potential to stand on its own. He pronounced her alias as if solemnly acknowledging the ruse.
"No, I'm sorry. It's Tosh actually. Toshiko Sato." Tosh suddenly had a burning desire to hear the man say her name with that strange precision, as if he were actually tasting the words as they emerged from his lips and tongue.
"Very pleased to meet you, Toshiko Sato," John said with a smile, offering his hand. She shook, and his hand was cool and strong but polite about its strength.
Tosh wasn't disappointed. He took his time with her name, and his ear was perfect for the vowels and the rhythm of it.
"Do you speak Japanese?" she found herself asking.
"Do you want me to?" he answered readily, in perfect Japanese.
She stared at him, the words echoing oddly in her ears. A cold feeling flowed down her spine.
"I'm sorry," he said in English. "I didn't mean to upset you. One's native language— it can be quite a shock to hear it after some time has passed."
Tosh shook her head, trying to figure out why the sudden Japanese had startled her so. "My mum and I always speak Japanese to each other."
"Is she — away?" John asked.
Tosh nodded. "She's visiting relatives in the States. California. Extended stay." That was her story.
"Mmm. You must miss her then."
"So much!" Tosh exclaimed.
"Thus the jazz and the semi-fruity drink," John enunciated.
Tosh nodded again.
"Thanks for not mocking my daiquiri, by the way." He leaned in as if confiding in Tosh. "Banana is my favorite. And, I adore the little umbrellas. And curly straws. This one's got an umbrella, a curly straw, AND a long sword with chunks on it. I asked for the chunks especially. Pineapple."
He pulled the skewer of fruit from his drink and quite deliberately wrapped his lips around the chunk of pineapple on the end, pulling it into his mouth with dainty savagery, letting his eyelashes flutter closed as he chewed.
"Pineapple and banana, it's just heavenly. Mmmm," he moaned.
"Glad you're enjoying it," Tosh said. She was engrossed by the man's performance, but tried not to let on. It wouldn't do, would it, to be too easily impressed by strange men in bars... when possibly she was being watched? Or, maybe, if she was being watched, then she should play along? It was all too confusing, she was unaccustomed to so much secrecy.
"Are you?" he asked, in a low voice.
"What?" she stammered.
"Bollocks, this is meant to be a seduction," he murmured. "Look, I'll do that bit again, and this time, you should feel the heat."
He carefully extracted another chunk of pineapple from the skewer, this time making a bigger show of licking the banana drink off of it, nibbling the pineapple, moaning, and gazing at Tosh with fluttering eyelids.
Tosh couldn't help but laugh.
"It's a bit obvious, isn't it, when you explain that it's meant to be a seduction?"
"You're a very beautiful young woman, and I'd like to go home with you. And by home with you, I mean, all the way to your bedroom. For sex."
The way John said "Sex" was absolutely luscious, somehow drawn out, as if he was taking his time imagining the sex while he spoke the word.
Tosh wasn't used to this sort of thing. Bookish by nature, serious, miles more intelligent than the vast majority of people she met on a daily basis, Tosh had always kept to herself. She had her mum and good memories of her dad. She had her studies, and happily, engrossing herself in an engineering or computational problem put her directly into a serene flow state where she could set her brain free to work for hours without even noticing time pass. Men did not try to pull Toshiko Sato in bars.
"You're having me on," Tosh accused.
It was sadly not out of the question, though no one she knew at the base took enough notice of her to be amused at her expense. And her new "associates" had other cat and mouse games to play besides "embarrass Dr. Sato at a bar."
"Look at me, Tosh," he said.
Tosh looked.
He was an average looking man at first glance. He was wearing a brown pin-striped suit, a dark blue shirt, and an attractive tie with swirly blue markings. The suit was a bit odd, cut very slim, with more buttons to the jacket that was currently the fashion, Tosh thought. He was wearing blue high-top trainers, which pleased Tosh for no reason she could put her finger on.
He had dark brown eyebrows that danced as he spoke and large brown eyes, a lighter brown than they seemed at first glance. He had a beaky nose that was covered in freckles. His lips were uneven — the top one very thin, the bottom one plump and bitable.
Tosh felt her face heat as she realized she'd imagined biting John's plump lower lip.
And his hair was magnificently styled, a rich reddish brown that stood up with a life of its own, seeming like he'd run his hands through it and it had just stayed that way out of pure insouciance. He had groomed his sideburns to match.
"You're gorgeous," were the words that popped out of her mouth.
"Thanks," he said, "so are you," and his eyelids fell to half-mast over his luscious brown eyes, and Tosh, as he had predicted, felt the heat.
"But I mean," John said, "look at me and judge for yourself. Am I sincere? Do I want to take you home, for sex? Have I, in fact, come a very long way to find... someone just like you? And am I not glad that you are here, that I did in fact find you, and that this is going, not swimmingly, but well, well enough?"
Tosh looked at the gorgeous man, his sincere freckled face, his deep brown eyes and his mobile brows and his hair that begged her fingers to run amok in it.
"I -" Tosh said, but broke off and finished her caipirinha. This sort of thing did not happen to Toshiko Sato.
The sweet lime burn helped her throw caution to the wind. Who was she now, really? What did being Toshiko really mean? There was no one but herself to help her answer that. "Right. Come along," Tosh said.
She stood and strode out of the bar, John following close behind her.
It was a short walk home to her flat. The streets were brightly lit. Tosh was always aware of her surroundings, understanding the possible threats that lurked down alleys and in deep shadows. Here she was, inviting a strange man into her home. It wasn't safe. But then, was anything safe? Hadn't her mother always played it safe? Her mother, a British officer? And now, was she safe now?
Only as safe as Tosh could make her.
Tosh unlocked the door of her flat and led John in. It was nothing much, just the beige and white decor of bland flats everywhere.
"Would you like —" Tosh began, as she turned to hang her purse and bag on the chair where she sat to eat breakfast every day.
She broke off as she felt John's hands gently stroking her shoulders. God, it felt like heaven.
"Ohh," she moaned. She couldn't help it. She was being pulled in too many directions and her neck and shoulders were a mess. John unerringly found the stress and eased it away with his long, skilled fingers.
"Bedroom," he whispered, and Tosh led the way.
"Take these off," he said, pulling at her clothes. Tosh closed her eyes and took off her clothes until she was down to her knickers.
"Lie back, Tosh. Let me take care of you."
Tosh lay back on her familiar bed with the unfamiliar presence of a man in her room.
She shivered at the touch of his cool hands on her skin. She wanted to open her eyes, to feast her eyes, but when she did, she was shocked by contrast of her naked skin and his pin-striped suit. He hadn't even loosened his tie.
"But — you haven't— should I—" she stammered, ever so eloquent.
"This is about you," he said. "I just want you to have this, to feel it. Please."
The way he said please was not what Tosh had expected. If she had expected anything, it was some sort of romance novel narrative with the ripping of delicate laces (he'd gently stroked her skin as she rapidly shed her conservative work outfit) or perhaps his crushing her to his manly chest. Instead, he was seated on the edge of the bed, ghosting his cools hands along her body, barely touching her, leaving shivers in his wake.
He stroked her, if stroking it could be called, this strange, soft touch that became deeper, firmer as it went on. His cool hands unexpectedly left trails of heat, and she felt the stirrings of desire quicken inside her.
He breathed deeply in through his nose. "Yes, that's good, Tosh. Let go. I have you. Enjoy this."
She let her eyes drift closed again, and that was easier. She lifted her hands above her head and grasped one wrist with the other. He did not seem to want her to touch him. This seemed unusual to Tosh, but not frighteningly so. And what he was doing to her felt so good. He wanted her to enjoy herself. If that's what he wanted, she didn't intend to argue.
His hands felt a bit warmer now, as he stroked her body, as though she were a cat or some other luxuriant thing.
She felt him shift on the bed, as he changed position to lie down on her right side, freeing his right hand to continue touching her.
"May I?" he whispered. He was in her room and she was naked on the bed.
"Whatever it is, I'm quite sure you may," Tosh said.
She felt his lips gently graze her jaw, kissing so softly toward her ear. He smelled amazing. It wasn't the expected smell of hair product — it was some kind of honey/citrus/cinnamon cologne that seemed to radiate off him like a cloud. It was delightful.
"You smell fantastic," Tosh said.
He gave a little groan, and said, softly, "Thanks — so do you. So warm, so human."
Tosh thought that was a bit odd, but factually true, so whatever. His lips on her neck, her earlobe, were making her lose track.
And then his gentle hand found her breasts, tweaking her nipples gently, feeling for what made her shiver.
"Oh, yes," he murmured. "There, just there."
His kisses trailed down and he pulled one nipple into his mouth, sucking just right as his clever fingers tweaked the other one perfectly. Tosh moaned in appreciation, remembering, suddenly, her first girlfriend, the summer she'd gone with Mum to California. She remembered how insistently Sarah had nursed at her, pressing her leg between Tosh's until they both fell apart. Girls were easier than boys, Tosh thought. Boys wanted to get it inside you, whether you were ready or not. Tosh wasn't usually ready. But girls liked the taste of you, liked the way you responded, the way they could imagine you'd do for them, after.
John touched her more like a girl, his luscious lips, his careful hands.
"Touch me," Tosh pleaded, unwilling to wait any longer.
He didn't pretend not to know what she wanted. His hand moved down, touching her through her knickers. The cloth was soaked and clung to her sex. He used the sodden cotton, stroking her slowly, letting her labia swell and ripen beneath his touch, letting her clitoris yearn from beneath its hood, yearn for more from his gentle caress. He kneaded her there, playing her slickness against her, pulling back as her hips thrust upward, tantalizing her.
"Thrust against my hand," he ordered, and Tosh moaned at the thought of how she must look, not quite naked, pushing her cotton-covered sex against his hand, so needy.
She lifted her hips, just as he bid her, her legs falling open, and one long finger found her clitoris, probing her through the cloth, dragging over it with roughness.
Her hips had a life of their own now, shivering as she pumped for him, reluctant to fall back, pressing into his hand.
"Give it to me, Toshiko, there's a good girl," he said, and Tosh came apart, arching her sex up against his hand in little spasms, wanting more, more, more.
"Yes, Tosh. Yes! Oh, beautiful," he said, as she fell back, spent for the moment.
As she panted, he rolled away her knickers, took his place between her legs.
"Round two," he said. She peeled her eyes open and looked at him. He had a funny smile on — happy, but a dark, sad happiness. What had hurt him, she wondered? Anything like what was hurting her now?
"Oh, just look at you. Delicious," he said, and his long probing tongue took a swipe up the middle, parting her labia and lingering at her clit. She was sensitive, a bit, but he licked at her so sweetly that soon she was crying out for more. The second orgasm came quicker than the first, and while she was coming down, he slipped two long fingers inside her, and laid his other hand cool on her belly, pressing her down.
"Now, Tosh, get ready to go, hm, very much higher," and then his third attack began to tear her apart.
It was like his fingers had a direct line to her nervous system. He thrust inside her, finding that spot that made her press down and open up to him, urging him to take her even higher, just as he'd promised, while his lips and tongue made a merciless assault on her clit, licking and sucking just enough to keep her quivering.
She felt him press against her arse with a third finger, drenched with her slickness, and it slipped right in. The feeling was incredible as he pressed against that spot from both sides. She urged her sex against him with all her strength, opening, thrusting, giving it all up, pure, carnal, unadulterated lust. It was paradise.
He held her there for a while, bringing her up again and again, until she was soaked in sweat and had lost track of how many times she'd come.
Finally his fingers slipped out of her, and his tongue began to gently lap her clean. She was lying in a soaking wet puddle, utterly spent.
"Now, Tosh, here's the kicker," he said, smiling, and as she smiled back in weak gratitude he gathered up her hand.
He pressed it to the wrong side of his chest, and there she felt his beating heart.
His sad, brown, ancient gaze locked onto hers, he moved her hand to his left, to his other pounding heartbeat.
"What?" she said, jerking back.
"The sonic will work. Your mother will live. Jack will come for you."
She stared at him like he was an Oracle, Kami, maybe Angel. Maybe a ... who knew what he was. Would she ever know?
"What?" Tosh asked, feeling unusually stupid.
"I should go," he said. "But thank you. Thanks for being you, so beautiful. I needed that."
He stood up from the bed, barely mussed, except for his wild wild hair, and he left the bedroom while Tosh tried to collect her thoughts.
"Take care, Toshiko Sato," he said, suddenly reappearing. "Believe in you, and do what you have to do."
And then he was gone.
And Toshiko got on with it.
NOTES:
1. In Tosh's timeline, this is set while Tosh is secretly building the sonic modulator in order to rescue her mum, who is being held captive by the evil gang. Tosh is conflicted because she knows she's committing treason, but she feels her first duty is to save her mum.
2. In Ten's timeline, this is sad semi-dark post-Waters of Mars Ten. I'm not saying he bent the laws of Time here, just that he saw no reason not to go and have a fling with Tosh, who he'd met as Nine, and who Jack would need to recruit into Torchwood. No reason, he thinks, not to show up and give her a little boost, and have the kind of mindblowing but at the same time rather repressed sex misbehaving Time Lords might have with you, if you're not Rose Tyler or possibly River Song.
3. Title from Sheryl Crow's UFO conspiracy song, Maybe Angels, which is only tangentially related to the story, but the title works, and it is a good song.
4. It seems to be canon that Tosh's mum loves jazz and was in the RAF.
5. I call her Dr. Sato because that's what it said on her nametag in World War III. She's not a medical doctor, but I bet she has a PhD in engineering -- maybe more than one. It is meant to be canon that at Torchwood she is the smartest person in the room. :) It's interesting that in 2005, Jack sent Tosh to infiltrate the lab where they had the pig pilot. Why not Owen?
author:
fannishlissrating: Explicit
pairing: The Tenth Doctor/Toshiko Sato
Summary: Tosh is pondering her quandary when she's seduced by a man named John.
Requested by
develish1 -- I hope it tickles your fancy!More Notes at the end.
---
"My mum loves jazz," Tosh said, apparently to her drink.
"Yeah?" the man at the bar next to her said. His tone was a bit bland, a bit interested. Tosh didn't really care. She just needed to talk. He was there, and if he heard her, that was okay, and if he didn't that was okay too.
"We came here together a few times," Tosh said.
"Mum and daughter jazz nights, eh?" the man commented.
"Yeah," Tosh answered, surprising herself with a laugh.
"I like singers," the man said. "Instrumentalists are fine too, but with jazz, I just love the human voice, the sonic quality of it."
Tosh's glance flew up like a startled bird. She took a sip of her drink, a tiny sip. Her mum was partial to frozen, fruity drinks, like a piña colada or strawberry daiquiri. The man's drink was something like that. Tosh preferred a drink that didn't hide the taste of its liquor. It seemed more honest, less like deception.
This evening Tosh had compromised with the new popular drink, the caipirinha, that flavored cheap Brazilian rum with muddled lime and sugar. It was sweet and it had a kick and Tosh respected it as she tried to enjoy it.
The singer took a break. The bar suddenly got a little quieter as the music shifted from live to recorded.
"I'm John, by the way," the man said.
"Jane," Tosh said. She didn't know why the lie had slipped out, so easily. Yes she did.
"Hello, Jane." The man had a funny way with speaking. He spoke as if every word was its own curiosity, as though he was listening to himself as he spoke and every word should be evaluated for its potential to stand on its own. He pronounced her alias as if solemnly acknowledging the ruse.
"No, I'm sorry. It's Tosh actually. Toshiko Sato." Tosh suddenly had a burning desire to hear the man say her name with that strange precision, as if he were actually tasting the words as they emerged from his lips and tongue.
"Very pleased to meet you, Toshiko Sato," John said with a smile, offering his hand. She shook, and his hand was cool and strong but polite about its strength.
Tosh wasn't disappointed. He took his time with her name, and his ear was perfect for the vowels and the rhythm of it.
"Do you speak Japanese?" she found herself asking.
"Do you want me to?" he answered readily, in perfect Japanese.
She stared at him, the words echoing oddly in her ears. A cold feeling flowed down her spine.
"I'm sorry," he said in English. "I didn't mean to upset you. One's native language— it can be quite a shock to hear it after some time has passed."
Tosh shook her head, trying to figure out why the sudden Japanese had startled her so. "My mum and I always speak Japanese to each other."
"Is she — away?" John asked.
Tosh nodded. "She's visiting relatives in the States. California. Extended stay." That was her story.
"Mmm. You must miss her then."
"So much!" Tosh exclaimed.
"Thus the jazz and the semi-fruity drink," John enunciated.
Tosh nodded again.
"Thanks for not mocking my daiquiri, by the way." He leaned in as if confiding in Tosh. "Banana is my favorite. And, I adore the little umbrellas. And curly straws. This one's got an umbrella, a curly straw, AND a long sword with chunks on it. I asked for the chunks especially. Pineapple."
He pulled the skewer of fruit from his drink and quite deliberately wrapped his lips around the chunk of pineapple on the end, pulling it into his mouth with dainty savagery, letting his eyelashes flutter closed as he chewed.
"Pineapple and banana, it's just heavenly. Mmmm," he moaned.
"Glad you're enjoying it," Tosh said. She was engrossed by the man's performance, but tried not to let on. It wouldn't do, would it, to be too easily impressed by strange men in bars... when possibly she was being watched? Or, maybe, if she was being watched, then she should play along? It was all too confusing, she was unaccustomed to so much secrecy.
"Are you?" he asked, in a low voice.
"What?" she stammered.
"Bollocks, this is meant to be a seduction," he murmured. "Look, I'll do that bit again, and this time, you should feel the heat."
He carefully extracted another chunk of pineapple from the skewer, this time making a bigger show of licking the banana drink off of it, nibbling the pineapple, moaning, and gazing at Tosh with fluttering eyelids.
Tosh couldn't help but laugh.
"It's a bit obvious, isn't it, when you explain that it's meant to be a seduction?"
"You're a very beautiful young woman, and I'd like to go home with you. And by home with you, I mean, all the way to your bedroom. For sex."
The way John said "Sex" was absolutely luscious, somehow drawn out, as if he was taking his time imagining the sex while he spoke the word.
Tosh wasn't used to this sort of thing. Bookish by nature, serious, miles more intelligent than the vast majority of people she met on a daily basis, Tosh had always kept to herself. She had her mum and good memories of her dad. She had her studies, and happily, engrossing herself in an engineering or computational problem put her directly into a serene flow state where she could set her brain free to work for hours without even noticing time pass. Men did not try to pull Toshiko Sato in bars.
"You're having me on," Tosh accused.
It was sadly not out of the question, though no one she knew at the base took enough notice of her to be amused at her expense. And her new "associates" had other cat and mouse games to play besides "embarrass Dr. Sato at a bar."
"Look at me, Tosh," he said.
Tosh looked.
He was an average looking man at first glance. He was wearing a brown pin-striped suit, a dark blue shirt, and an attractive tie with swirly blue markings. The suit was a bit odd, cut very slim, with more buttons to the jacket that was currently the fashion, Tosh thought. He was wearing blue high-top trainers, which pleased Tosh for no reason she could put her finger on.
He had dark brown eyebrows that danced as he spoke and large brown eyes, a lighter brown than they seemed at first glance. He had a beaky nose that was covered in freckles. His lips were uneven — the top one very thin, the bottom one plump and bitable.
Tosh felt her face heat as she realized she'd imagined biting John's plump lower lip.
And his hair was magnificently styled, a rich reddish brown that stood up with a life of its own, seeming like he'd run his hands through it and it had just stayed that way out of pure insouciance. He had groomed his sideburns to match.
"You're gorgeous," were the words that popped out of her mouth.
"Thanks," he said, "so are you," and his eyelids fell to half-mast over his luscious brown eyes, and Tosh, as he had predicted, felt the heat.
"But I mean," John said, "look at me and judge for yourself. Am I sincere? Do I want to take you home, for sex? Have I, in fact, come a very long way to find... someone just like you? And am I not glad that you are here, that I did in fact find you, and that this is going, not swimmingly, but well, well enough?"
Tosh looked at the gorgeous man, his sincere freckled face, his deep brown eyes and his mobile brows and his hair that begged her fingers to run amok in it.
"I -" Tosh said, but broke off and finished her caipirinha. This sort of thing did not happen to Toshiko Sato.
The sweet lime burn helped her throw caution to the wind. Who was she now, really? What did being Toshiko really mean? There was no one but herself to help her answer that. "Right. Come along," Tosh said.
She stood and strode out of the bar, John following close behind her.
It was a short walk home to her flat. The streets were brightly lit. Tosh was always aware of her surroundings, understanding the possible threats that lurked down alleys and in deep shadows. Here she was, inviting a strange man into her home. It wasn't safe. But then, was anything safe? Hadn't her mother always played it safe? Her mother, a British officer? And now, was she safe now?
Only as safe as Tosh could make her.
Tosh unlocked the door of her flat and led John in. It was nothing much, just the beige and white decor of bland flats everywhere.
"Would you like —" Tosh began, as she turned to hang her purse and bag on the chair where she sat to eat breakfast every day.
She broke off as she felt John's hands gently stroking her shoulders. God, it felt like heaven.
"Ohh," she moaned. She couldn't help it. She was being pulled in too many directions and her neck and shoulders were a mess. John unerringly found the stress and eased it away with his long, skilled fingers.
"Bedroom," he whispered, and Tosh led the way.
"Take these off," he said, pulling at her clothes. Tosh closed her eyes and took off her clothes until she was down to her knickers.
"Lie back, Tosh. Let me take care of you."
Tosh lay back on her familiar bed with the unfamiliar presence of a man in her room.
She shivered at the touch of his cool hands on her skin. She wanted to open her eyes, to feast her eyes, but when she did, she was shocked by contrast of her naked skin and his pin-striped suit. He hadn't even loosened his tie.
"But — you haven't— should I—" she stammered, ever so eloquent.
"This is about you," he said. "I just want you to have this, to feel it. Please."
The way he said please was not what Tosh had expected. If she had expected anything, it was some sort of romance novel narrative with the ripping of delicate laces (he'd gently stroked her skin as she rapidly shed her conservative work outfit) or perhaps his crushing her to his manly chest. Instead, he was seated on the edge of the bed, ghosting his cools hands along her body, barely touching her, leaving shivers in his wake.
He stroked her, if stroking it could be called, this strange, soft touch that became deeper, firmer as it went on. His cool hands unexpectedly left trails of heat, and she felt the stirrings of desire quicken inside her.
He breathed deeply in through his nose. "Yes, that's good, Tosh. Let go. I have you. Enjoy this."
She let her eyes drift closed again, and that was easier. She lifted her hands above her head and grasped one wrist with the other. He did not seem to want her to touch him. This seemed unusual to Tosh, but not frighteningly so. And what he was doing to her felt so good. He wanted her to enjoy herself. If that's what he wanted, she didn't intend to argue.
His hands felt a bit warmer now, as he stroked her body, as though she were a cat or some other luxuriant thing.
She felt him shift on the bed, as he changed position to lie down on her right side, freeing his right hand to continue touching her.
"May I?" he whispered. He was in her room and she was naked on the bed.
"Whatever it is, I'm quite sure you may," Tosh said.
She felt his lips gently graze her jaw, kissing so softly toward her ear. He smelled amazing. It wasn't the expected smell of hair product — it was some kind of honey/citrus/cinnamon cologne that seemed to radiate off him like a cloud. It was delightful.
"You smell fantastic," Tosh said.
He gave a little groan, and said, softly, "Thanks — so do you. So warm, so human."
Tosh thought that was a bit odd, but factually true, so whatever. His lips on her neck, her earlobe, were making her lose track.
And then his gentle hand found her breasts, tweaking her nipples gently, feeling for what made her shiver.
"Oh, yes," he murmured. "There, just there."
His kisses trailed down and he pulled one nipple into his mouth, sucking just right as his clever fingers tweaked the other one perfectly. Tosh moaned in appreciation, remembering, suddenly, her first girlfriend, the summer she'd gone with Mum to California. She remembered how insistently Sarah had nursed at her, pressing her leg between Tosh's until they both fell apart. Girls were easier than boys, Tosh thought. Boys wanted to get it inside you, whether you were ready or not. Tosh wasn't usually ready. But girls liked the taste of you, liked the way you responded, the way they could imagine you'd do for them, after.
John touched her more like a girl, his luscious lips, his careful hands.
"Touch me," Tosh pleaded, unwilling to wait any longer.
He didn't pretend not to know what she wanted. His hand moved down, touching her through her knickers. The cloth was soaked and clung to her sex. He used the sodden cotton, stroking her slowly, letting her labia swell and ripen beneath his touch, letting her clitoris yearn from beneath its hood, yearn for more from his gentle caress. He kneaded her there, playing her slickness against her, pulling back as her hips thrust upward, tantalizing her.
"Thrust against my hand," he ordered, and Tosh moaned at the thought of how she must look, not quite naked, pushing her cotton-covered sex against his hand, so needy.
She lifted her hips, just as he bid her, her legs falling open, and one long finger found her clitoris, probing her through the cloth, dragging over it with roughness.
Her hips had a life of their own now, shivering as she pumped for him, reluctant to fall back, pressing into his hand.
"Give it to me, Toshiko, there's a good girl," he said, and Tosh came apart, arching her sex up against his hand in little spasms, wanting more, more, more.
"Yes, Tosh. Yes! Oh, beautiful," he said, as she fell back, spent for the moment.
As she panted, he rolled away her knickers, took his place between her legs.
"Round two," he said. She peeled her eyes open and looked at him. He had a funny smile on — happy, but a dark, sad happiness. What had hurt him, she wondered? Anything like what was hurting her now?
"Oh, just look at you. Delicious," he said, and his long probing tongue took a swipe up the middle, parting her labia and lingering at her clit. She was sensitive, a bit, but he licked at her so sweetly that soon she was crying out for more. The second orgasm came quicker than the first, and while she was coming down, he slipped two long fingers inside her, and laid his other hand cool on her belly, pressing her down.
"Now, Tosh, get ready to go, hm, very much higher," and then his third attack began to tear her apart.
It was like his fingers had a direct line to her nervous system. He thrust inside her, finding that spot that made her press down and open up to him, urging him to take her even higher, just as he'd promised, while his lips and tongue made a merciless assault on her clit, licking and sucking just enough to keep her quivering.
She felt him press against her arse with a third finger, drenched with her slickness, and it slipped right in. The feeling was incredible as he pressed against that spot from both sides. She urged her sex against him with all her strength, opening, thrusting, giving it all up, pure, carnal, unadulterated lust. It was paradise.
He held her there for a while, bringing her up again and again, until she was soaked in sweat and had lost track of how many times she'd come.
Finally his fingers slipped out of her, and his tongue began to gently lap her clean. She was lying in a soaking wet puddle, utterly spent.
"Now, Tosh, here's the kicker," he said, smiling, and as she smiled back in weak gratitude he gathered up her hand.
He pressed it to the wrong side of his chest, and there she felt his beating heart.
His sad, brown, ancient gaze locked onto hers, he moved her hand to his left, to his other pounding heartbeat.
"What?" she said, jerking back.
"The sonic will work. Your mother will live. Jack will come for you."
She stared at him like he was an Oracle, Kami, maybe Angel. Maybe a ... who knew what he was. Would she ever know?
"What?" Tosh asked, feeling unusually stupid.
"I should go," he said. "But thank you. Thanks for being you, so beautiful. I needed that."
He stood up from the bed, barely mussed, except for his wild wild hair, and he left the bedroom while Tosh tried to collect her thoughts.
"Take care, Toshiko Sato," he said, suddenly reappearing. "Believe in you, and do what you have to do."
And then he was gone.
And Toshiko got on with it.
NOTES:
1. In Tosh's timeline, this is set while Tosh is secretly building the sonic modulator in order to rescue her mum, who is being held captive by the evil gang. Tosh is conflicted because she knows she's committing treason, but she feels her first duty is to save her mum.
2. In Ten's timeline, this is sad semi-dark post-Waters of Mars Ten. I'm not saying he bent the laws of Time here, just that he saw no reason not to go and have a fling with Tosh, who he'd met as Nine, and who Jack would need to recruit into Torchwood. No reason, he thinks, not to show up and give her a little boost, and have the kind of mindblowing but at the same time rather repressed sex misbehaving Time Lords might have with you, if you're not Rose Tyler or possibly River Song.
3. Title from Sheryl Crow's UFO conspiracy song, Maybe Angels, which is only tangentially related to the story, but the title works, and it is a good song.
4. It seems to be canon that Tosh's mum loves jazz and was in the RAF.
5. I call her Dr. Sato because that's what it said on her nametag in World War III. She's not a medical doctor, but I bet she has a PhD in engineering -- maybe more than one. It is meant to be canon that at Torchwood she is the smartest person in the room. :) It's interesting that in 2005, Jack sent Tosh to infiltrate the lab where they had the pig pilot. Why not Owen?
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Date: 2013-10-04 11:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-10-04 01:00 pm (UTC)thanks so much for reading and taking the time to comment! :)
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Date: 2013-10-04 10:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-10-04 11:16 pm (UTC)so glad you enjoyed!
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Date: 2013-10-04 11:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-10-04 10:23 pm (UTC)Thanks for the time line.
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Date: 2013-10-04 11:27 pm (UTC)I think he is giving, but in a way where he holds himself back... I really like that he was sweet to Tosh, who deserved to have something go her way for once.
:)
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Date: 2013-10-05 10:25 pm (UTC)great fic love, thank you so much
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Date: 2013-10-06 09:53 pm (UTC)I tend to view the Doctor as quite repressed, coming from the very uptight Time Lord society as he did, and I think being punished for Having Jamie and Zoe (take that how you will) made him even more so. The Doctor is a character with so much passion and so much love that it makes me really sad to see him box himself away like he seems to. I read him as very conflicted. Specifically with Ten -- he seems like he was able to have flings with different women, but especially NOT with Rose, because he felt he had too much to lose. ): This is why I usually don't write Ten!! I think that the Duplicate Doctor went with Rose because there was an agreement between the two Doctors that if the Duplicate was going to be mortal, then he should definitely give himself to Rose. Ten didn't leave until he saw Rose agree. It's still sad though!!
Prompts are always welcome. Next, the Two meets Rose fic. :) I want Jamie in there as well... we'll see. I have some headcanon I'd like to get out regarding Clara.... so this could be a multifaceted story.