The Literary Bedroom

She flung the pillow away and crawled up to her knees. When she moved closer to the Doctor his dark eyes watched her expectantly. She took the cup from his hand and drank it up.

“If only this was champagne,“ she tried what she thought was a seductive smile, “I could do with some courage.” He took the cup and the tea tray and set it down next to the bed. Then he turned to her, one hand lightly on her hip, the other cupping her cheek. He kissed her again gently.

“This is not about courage,” he whispered to her huskily. His blue eyes were full of undisguised desire now. “Just let go, Charley.”

 

Last night when they had kissed and caressed she had experienced a whole set of new sensations. And to her greatest delight these sensations all returned with his kiss and touch. When Charley hesitated for a brief second she relied on him guiding her; she trusted him. He was very gentle but also determined. As in a dance, he was leading, making her follow his movements. Heat was running through her veins, and both head and stomach went on a merry-go-round.

 

His hands tightened their grip around her waist. He was careful not to press her but she felt his craving for her rise. His fingers, his beautifully long and deft fingers, caressed her hip, her waist and her tummy. He traced her neck and collarbone with kisses, making his way down to her breasts. Charley moaned and writhed, unable to do anything but feel. And when he kissed her lips again, she returned his kisses, fiercer now and without restraint.

 

Her hands moved along his shoulders. She loved the feeling of his skin against her palms. When she traced a line across his chest, it was pale and smooth and as cool as marble Almost like touching a work of art, just so much more sensuous. He shivered slightly and gave a soft groan when her hands slid down slowly. She whispered, while moving her hand along his inner thigh and sending a rush of heat through the whole of his body: “Now, Doctor, please!” She kissed the tip of his ear, breathing, whispering again: “Now.”

 

"I'm sorry, Charley, I'm going to hurt you. I'll try and be as careful as I can." He looked her deep in the eyes and smiled. "All right?"

"I know, Doctor," she smiled back at him but the frightened look in her eyes gave her away. "Adventuress," he whispered, then kissed her again.

When he entered her, he watched her flinch. "I'm sorry, Charley, I'm so sorry." He stroked a blonde strand on her forehead aside and kissed a small tear off the corner of her eye. “Will you be all right?” He kept quite still for a moment.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she blinked another tear away and swallowed. “I’ve waited for this for so long.” She smiled at him now, moving her hands through his long hair. He smiled back at her tenderly and slowly began to move.

 

Before, Charley hat not exactly known what to expect and what the Doctor expected of her, but now she quickly adjusted und found her way. It really was much like dancing. His sure movements led her and so she could just let herself go. She was immersed in his delicious smell – like honey, it flashed though her mind – and lost in his kisses.

 

They moved together, swayed together, energy building up around them until it was almost tangible. After what could have been hours or mere seconds, she heard the Doctor’s hoarse and breathless voice: “You look so beautiful, Charley, just let go.” And when she did, she could feel him catching his breath before he, too, came. They both lay panting.
 

Hours later it was broad daylight in the white room with the large and comfortable bed. They still lay cuddled up, facing each other and talking in soft whispers and light touches.

Charley smiled: “Let’s just never ever get up again, please?”

He kissed her hair softly and smiled back at her: “So we will! For all eternity – or until the next time you want a cup of tea.”

In bed Charley stretched her body in all directions. She felt really, really weird, she thought, brimful of energy and almost quivering with anticipation and yet so very calm and sure. She grabbed a large soft pillow to put on her face, as she was about to cry out her happiness. The Doctor returned, put the breakfast tray down on the bed and started to pour the tea.

“You all right, love?”

She peered from under her pillow.

“Oh,” she said. He had forgotten to fasten his robe so it fell open down to his waist. I bet he does this on purpose, she thought. He took it off now as he slipped back under the duvet. Propped up against the headboard he slowly began sipping his tea.

 

Charley had seen the Doctor eat or drink or sleep before, but rarely out of need. More often than not it was for the sheer fun of it, she believed. He seemed to relish it so much. She remembered the first time they had drank wine together. His eyes, his entire face had beamed at the prospect of tasting the dark glowing liquid in his cut glass. At first he had reminded her of uncle Jacques who always made a great spectacle of his delight in the sensual pleasures of life. After all, that was why he had left drab and drear England and come to live in France. But she soon realised that the Doctor’s pleasure was much different.

“The secret,” he had told her, a secret he had learned from some Tibetan monk or other, “is reckless abandon. Regardless of what you do.”

And it did show on the outside: his face was delighted, his body relaxed. But she could feel what it meant to him inside. She still watched him from under her pillow. At times like these he was perfectly poised, absorbed entirely in the sensation, the tea on his tongue. He had this faraway look in his eyes that made them even darker. But strangely enough, in these moments he never tried to keep her out of this state of mind. It was absolutely private but by no means solitary. He wanted her with him, invited her in.

 

She knew he was totally aware of her watching him. But whereas she was slightly nervous and fidgety now, he was totally at ease. He reminded her of a soft furry cat, idling in the sunshine. She told him so and he smiled contentedly but said nothing. She knew he was waiting for her to make the next move. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and thought: What now, Charlotte Pollard? 

Charley woke hours later. In the Tardis’ circadian rhythm it was daybreak. An artificial dawn spread soft pink light over the bed. She looked at the Doctor’s slight and slender figure, lying so uncharacteristically still beside her. When she was a young girl – in fact only a couple of years back, but oh, it seemed ages – she had always wondered what kind of man she would eventually fall in love with. She and her sisters Margaret and Cecelia had been making up all sorts of fantastic stories involving knights and princes. Of course their wonderful heroes had always been tall and dark and handsome. The three girls had always been teasing each other but in their hearts neither of them had ever doubted that this was what life had in store for them. Life is strange sometimes, she pondered, yet scolded herself at the same time for such a commonplace observation.

 

She felt nervous when her gaze rested on the Doctor who was breathing calmly. Yet life was strange: Here she was, aeons and universes from home with this strange man with his quaint frock coat, unruly locks and overly civilised manners. He absolutely was the oddest man she had ever known. She chuckled involuntarily. Here she was, in bed with the Doctor.

 

Just at this point in her train of thought he stirred. His ever-active psychic powers, she thought.

“Charley,” he said huskily, sending shivers down her spine. His skin was pale and cool and he looked handsome beyond belief. Without opening his eyes he moved closer towards her.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes, Doctor. I am very happy.”

“Then all's right with the world,” he murmured. She still felt slightly stupid but she had to share her discovery.

“Life is strange, though, Doctor.”

He opened his incredibly blue eyes: “I know, I know. And isn’t that just wonderful?” They snuggled against each other both smiling brightly.

 

“Doctor, do you know what I really want now?” He gave her his best lecherous grin.

“No, Doctor, not that!” She looked almost genuinely shocked. “Well, yes,” she conceded, “but even more than that … or rather before that?” She looked at him expectantly.

“Tea?” he asked.

“Tea,” she answered. He slowly withdrew from her and got out of bed.

He sighed: “Your wish is my command.” He moved across the room to pick up a robe and grinned again: “Charley, stop staring! I can sense your gaze on my backside. That is very unbecoming for a lady.”

“Oh Doctor, I can’t help it. I just like what I’m seeing! And without your quaint clothes, in fact without any clothes, you don’t look the perfect gentleman either.” Smiling, he shook his head slightly and left the bedroom.

 

It was almost evening when she finally returned to the console room. The Doctor was standing with his back to her humming lightly. But he had, as always, sensed her.

“Come over here, Charley, let me show you something!” When she moved closer he pulled her arm through his.

“Doctor,” she interrupted, “do we need to talk?”

“No,” he blinked at her. “Or do we?”

 

“Look, Doctor, I can’t pretend that nothing has happened. I want to kiss you again. And I want more than that. I want you to make love to me. And I want it now, and tonight, and tomorrow. You have shown me something new and exciting. You can’t just take that away from me again …”

She was breathless. The Doctor stared at her.

“Charley, Charley, wait! I don’t want to take anything away from you. But you are a young lady and this is far from appropriate behaviour! We shall have to face the consequences.”

“This is not 1930 anymore, you know. But if you don’t want me, that’s fine, you know, you can tell me.”

“Now don’t be ridiculous, Charley, it’s not that simple.”

“Well, I may not have your centuries of experiences with all the different sexes, but from what I’ve heard – how do they say? – it’s hardly rocket science. But if you want to go on rambling and make it an academic discussion …”

 

The Doctor leaned in and kissed her, gently, yet without hesitation: “I never ramble!” He kissed her again and his kiss grew more intense. Charley in turn became more at ease. Her head was spinning, her knees went weak and she did not mind at all.
 

It was not that Charley had never kissed another man before. Certainly not too many – young Charlotte Pollard from Hampshire was a very decent and respectable girl. Yet she had always been curious.

 

The first man – or boy, rather – was a friend of a cousin’s when they were on holiday by the seaside. The young man had been eighteen then, Charley only sixteen. When they were found out, he had got a slap in the face from her uncle while she had been sent to her room for the rest of the holiday.

 

And then there was Alex, of course. She had fallen in love with him, or so she thought, at a friend’s house party in the country. They had met before occasionally but it was then they had danced with each other. Had she only fallen for him, she wondered, because he danced so divinely? He was tall and very dashing. And he treated her as lady when everybody else still talked to her as to a child. Yes, he was very much what any young woman could want. It only seemed natural to promise to see him in Singapore for New Year's Eve. He had laughed at her, so she dared him. When she finally stood before him on the terrace of the Singapore Hilton he had been astonished. And rather a bit scared, she thought. Maybe I’ve gone too far – or maybe not far enough? Yet he had come round to his wits again. And so they had danced, laughed and kissed. She had liked it and enjoyed his company. But something was missing.

 

Charley had even kissed the Doctor before. He was a rather physical man after all. They had known each other for seconds only when he had dragged her to a secret hiding place holding her hand and squeezing his body tightly to hers. Since then he had always wanted to hold her hand. He hugged her as often as he could without raising suspicion, she thought, so obviously he likes it. Hugging her he had also blown light kisses over her hair. And he liked greeting her ‘the French style’, just like uncle Jacques did. Yet she knew those kisses were innocent expressions of joy or relief.

 

Once however, she had seen something different in his eyes. It was on the occasion of one of Count Orsino’s grand festivities in Venice. Maybe it was the romantic setting by the Venetian canals. Maybe it was her mauve dress. Or maybe it was sheer jealousy when he realised some of the other men’s stares. He had bowed, then, gallantly and kissed her hand. That was all formality had permitted. But she had seen an unknown glint in his dark, dark blue eyes. Oh, damn his manners, she had thought most unbecomingly. But since then at least she knew he requited her ... maybe not love but her longing.

 

But he had his manners, and she tried to behave like a lady should. So they stole glances at each other, always averting their eyes before things went out of hand.

 

And now they had. When they had finally broken their kiss they looked at each other in amazement. Kissing the Doctor felt so good, she thought, so natural. He beamed at her. “Is everything all right, Charley?”

“Yeah … yes … perfect,” she breathed with a blissful smile.

“Good! That must have been the Earl Grey then.” He moved over to the console and started fiddling with the levers and switches highly concentrated.

 

After a while Charley wandered off. She went to her room first but found it hard to rest. She took a very long and hot shower to wash off the grime of last night’s bushwhacking. The hot water was tickling her skin and it reminded her of his touch. Think straight, she chided herself. So she dressed and tried the Tardis gardens where she liked to talk to the butterflies. She felt elated, and yet she was slightly scared, too.

“I know what I want, you know,” she told a bright red swallowtail, “and I want more of it. I know I’m not supposed to, being a lady and all that. But it cannot be wrong, can it, when it feels so right?” She sat on the grass for hours, the butterfly stayed patiently on a flower next to her gently flapping its wings.

Title: Reckless Abandon and Earl Grey Tea (2/8)

Author: textdoctor 

Fandom/Pairings: Doctor Who | Eight/Charley

Rating: PG (fluff)

Spoilers/Timeline: no spoilers, Big Finish Audios: set after Seasons of Fear

Notes: Beta: the_web_master - I own nothing, everyone belongs to the BBC and/or Big Finish

Chapter 2

Inside the Tardis, Charley almost collapsed into the nearest armchair. The Doctor knelt before her, patting her hand.

“Are you all right, Charley? I’m sorry I always keep putting you in danger. I know I should be more careful.”

She gave him a furious look: “Please, Doctor! I’m not a stupid little girl, so don’t patronise me!”

“But you are a girl, Charley, though not stupid at all – I can vouch for both … my Edwardian Adventuress.” He smiled at her. “You stay here and take some rest while I go and make some tea.” He hugged her tenderly, got up and started in the general direction of the Tardis kitchen.

 

He returned with the tea tray only minutes later. The china clattered when he put it down on the table beside her. He poured two cups of tea and handed one to her.

“You forgot the milk, Doctor.”

He shook his head: ”No. Earl Grey. The best thing to put some life back into you.”

“Oh,” she said.

 

They both drank their tea in silence. When she handed him her cup for a refill he took it but put it back on the tray. He knelt before her chair again and she thought he would hug her once more. But he didn’t. Instead he kissed her, softly but far from chastely.

 

Charley was taken aback. This was just what she had wanted for … oh for months or was it a year even? This was absolutely what she had been thinking about and yet it was so different from what she had imagined it to be. It felt so real. His lips were cool on hers and his kiss was almost casual. Charley was speechless and the Doctor began to worry when she neither moved nor spoke nor even blinked.

“Charley, look, I’m sorry. I allowed myself to get carried away. I should have …” She reached out and put her finger to his lips, then she moved closer and returned his kiss. His lips were soft and she could taste his tea on them.

 

What Charley lacked in experience she made up for in boldness, she was an adventuress after all. The only fairly clear thought was: Oh, he’s blushed even more than I have. Apart from that she was lost in the kiss.

Title: Reckless Abandon and Earl Grey Tea (1/8)
Author: textdoctor
Fandom/Pairings: Doctor Who | Eight/Charley
Rating: PG (fluff)
Spoilers/Timeline: no spoilers, Big Finish Audios: set after Seasons of Fear
Notes: Beta: the_web_master - I own nothing, everyone belongs to the BBC and/or Big Finish

Chapter 1

They moved around the next corner along the mountain path. Realising that Charley was stumbling and shivering behind him, the Doctor stopped: “Sit here. We’ll rest.”

The wind was blowing gale force which made her shiver grow all the more fierce.

“I’m freezing, Doctor, will you hug me?” she asked.

“My body temperature is so much lower than yours – you know I cannot warm you,” he answered absentmindedly. Tired, cold and dejected she turned from him.

“Charley, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.” But she did not move. So he took her in his arms trying to tug his velvet coat around her. “I can shield you against the wind, though.”

They sat, huddled together, and waited for the dawn, Charley drifting in and out of sleep while he kept still, only his left hand playing forlornly with Charley’s hair. She felt secure in the Doctor’s arms; his hand soothed her. The last thing she realised before she finally dozed off was a very faint hum she believed to come from him.

She awoke a few short hours later when dawn finally broke. The Doctor seemed to have shifted around her so she could rest on his chest more comfortably. The wind was still blowing coldly but at least it was light now and gradually getting warmer. Or was that the Doctor, she wondered. He sensed that she was awake now. Despite the cold, the danger, the general misery of their situation he was as chipper as ever.

“Did you sleep well, Charley? What shall we do next?”

She stretched her still tired and cold limbs.

“This is not exactly a picnic, Doctor, remember? We were running for our lives, I was about to die from the cold, and there is still no sign of the Tardis.”

The Doctor got up, pulling her with him. He, too, stretched while he looked around.

“I’d say: this way!” He indicated vaguely to his left. “No wait: this way!” A bit further to the left. He started walking for a few paces, came back to grab her hand and pull her along.

“Everything is going to be all right, Charley!”

They left the path along the mountain and entered into a dense wood. The Doctor moved forward enthusiastically, dragging an unwilling Charley along. After a couple of miles of rather unpleasant bushwhacking, miraculously the Tardis appeared.

“There! I told you so!” He beamed at her. Charley was not sure whether to faint or cry. Cry now, she thought, faint afterwards.