Soldier's Hands

By: SilverLunarStar

Disclaimer: I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight. While I wait, I have no rights to Doctor Who.

Author's Note: My entry for then_theres_us' challenge 88. This came out completely different than what I had intended at any point during the week, but kept to the basic subject I wanted. It was supposed to be mostly Rose's thoughts. The Doctor had other plans. I don't think it's especially explicit, but…

Rose shivered as the Doctor's body quivered above hers, following in sync. Calloused hands continued to caress her bare flesh and she imagined this was what the alien, musical instrument would have felt like had it been sentient. Never had she seen him handle something so gently until that very instance. The first time they met, the first thing she was introduced to was his hand. A cold, rough, work-weathered hand that matched the cold and determined grey-blue windows. His hands had held her plenty of times since then.

She knew he held her differently than the way he handled other people and objects. She'd seen those hands handling a bomb, fighting animated mannequins, driving the TARDIS, fixing the TARDIS, using the sonic screwdriver, handing her a key to his home...and, more recently, handling a giant gun. She didn't know why she'd been more frightened at him holding a gun than she'd been at him holding a bomb when they first met. A gasp escaped her as two fingers thrust into her. No, she knew why.

Those hands that always grasped hers in a firm grip, the hands that automatically found hers, were suddenly handling such a deadly weapon with the precision of a soldier. She'd been completely taken aback by it. The bomb he'd waved to her face was done in such a manic manner, but the way he held that gun was only matched by the panic and anguish within, making him the most dangerous being she'd ever met. The hands that always made her feel safe, protected, cherished...were suddenly the hands of a stranger. Those same hands that were bringing her to the edge, only to suddenly be removed.

Adjusting herself between her legs, he entered her, his hands coming up to grasp hers firmly. Feeling the neatly trimmed fingers between hers she knew that even if she knew what those hands had done, what they could and would do, she'd stand by his side. She'd stop him from losing himself to the darkness. After all, she wasn't going anywhere.

I had a really good last line in mind on Friday, but didn't jot it down for some strange reason or another. :( Oh well. Thoughts?

Thanks for reading!

~*Eli