The problem was that he found himself getting increasingly turned on by the thought of her toting a large lump of exploding metal. 1,007 words
There’s been this thing niggling at him for a while now. A feeling that won’t go away. Or rather, a worrying trend that he’s starting to notice.
You see, Torchwood uses guns. Lots of guns. Laser or sonic blasters when they can get them, the lead pellet propelling kind otherwise.
The thing is that by association this means that Rose uses guns. Lots of guns. Big guns, small guns, some-as-big-as-your-head guns.
Once upon a time he probably would have had a problem with the idea of her using one. No doubt due (in part) to the fact that he would have been horrified that she didn’t trust him enough to believe that he could protect her without one. Oh and also, he just didn’t like them. People always seemed to get unnecessarily killed or maimed when there were guns around. And he was trying not to become a homicidal maniac like his Time Lord self had implied. And then there was the matter of his seventh regeneration...
“Now don’t go getting all high and mighty on me over this.” she’d told him sternly the first time he’d stood and ogled her as she comfortably loaded a handgun up, checked the safety and then tucked it away in its holster with such practiced ease he almost expected her to spin it around her finger like a proper gunslinger. “Not all of us have a big enough gob to talk us out of hostile negotiations with crazy aliens.”
“Or humans.” He added, eyes still fixed on the gun.
“Them too.” She agreed.
He of course refused to carry one, even now that he was all mortal and fallible and all that. That wasn’t the problem. Nor was the fact that Rose was using guns. Nor was it that she was so flippant about carrying them on her person (although he certainly didn’t like hugging her and feeling the handle digging in between his ribs).
No. The problem was that he found himself getting increasingly turned on by the thought of her toting a large lump of exploding metal.
It was downright alarming really, the way his stomach dropped down near his feet and his cock pricked up hopefully whenever she whipped one of the stupid things out. Although that might have also been due to that tongue thing she did, you know, the one she did when she was concentrating?
He became thoroughly useless whenever she did that, often gawping at her like a fool until somebody managed to snap him out of it. He’d nearly gotten himself killed on several occasions already because he’d been too busy staring at Rose instead of focusing.
If she noticed, she never really said but then came the day that she came home late from a raid and stripped off shoes, jacket and jeans on her way to the lounge.
Unfortunately this action left her in little more than her knickers, t-shirt and gun holster.
The Doctor, who had been reading on the couch sprang up, dry mouthed at the sight of her and wasted no time in dragging her down onto the floor with him.
“What was that all about?” Rose wanted to know afterwards as he lay with his head on her chest, both of them trying to slow their racing hearts. “Not that I mind or anything but you don’t normally jump me the second I walk in the door.”
“You did walk in without trousers,” he pointed out reasonably before blurting. “And you had your gun on.”
Rose frowned. “Thought you didn’t like guns?” she said, surprised.
“Only when they’re pointed at me. Or I have to use one. I’ve got no real problems with you having one around because I know you’d never shoot me.”
“Riiiight...” Rose said then wondered, “So what, is this like some weird kink of yours or something then? Girls with guns?”
He pulled himself up to look at her and realised that she was doing that tongue-in-the-teeth thing again. The Doctor was momentarily seized by a temptation to attack her tongue with his own. Just to see if it would retreat behind the protective wall of her teeth or slip out even more to tease him right back.
He resisted (barely) instead propping his chin on his hand and contemplating her suggestion carefully. It wouldn’t really have surprised him to be honest. He’d been experiencing all sorts of strange things since he’d become human and...
“Oh no.” Rose said worriedly. “You’re psychoanalysing yourself again aren’t you?”
The Doctor shifted guiltily. “...Maybe?”
“You can always just blame Donna for it I suppose.” Rose mused. “Not that she was exactly the swoony damsel-in-distress type but whatever.”
“You know I think it might actually just be me?” the Doctor admitted thoughtfully. “I mean, I’m too much of a coward to use a gun but you...it’s so natural for you now. You’re so confident. It’s...sexy.”
Rose grinned and pulled him on top of her again. “There’s a word I never thought I’d hear you say.”
“Sexy?” he repeated and Rose wrapped her legs around his hips, humming her affirmation. “What about ‘ridiculously sexy’?”
“You are such a sweet talker.” Rose laughed, throaty and genuine.
“Oh no,” the Doctor protested gamely. “I meant like I’m ridiculously sexy. What d’you think?”
He grinned at her and Rose looked offended for about a second but then she took to the remaining buttons on his shirt and he knew she’d forgiven him. It wasn’t like she never teased him.
“Too sexy for your shirt?” she wanted to know, eyes innocent.
“Oh yes.” He said, exultant as she snaked her hands under the fabric to tease the sensitive skin around his nipples.
“Well,” she said slowly. “Maybe I’m too sexy for my gun?”
He stilled and peered down at her critically. Tongue between teeth – check. Cheeky grin – check.
“You are too sexy for words Rose Tyler,” he told her seriously, easily pulling her up so he could remove holster and gun followed quickly by shirt and bra. “Especially without your gun.”