The Doctor and his Best Friend: Grief

The Problem

This is my first fic *yikes*. I decided to publish because I felt like I needed to. So as I said before, first fic, constructive crit. Welcomed. Please leave a comment if you liked it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Doctor Who francise, this is purely non-profit.

*Originally posted on ao3*

Chapter 1:

The doctor was lying on his bed, gazing up, imagining he could see galaxies through the TARDIS's roof.

Martha was a few levels below cooking, a habbit she recently picked up on. The continuous time travelling throughout space was tiring her apparently, though she didn't look at him whilst she that. So that is how they ended up drifting through the time vortex without harm or fail.

It was during these times of quiet that The Doctor felt an overwhelming sense of grief crash into him. It had been so long since Rose graced his life in company, being the brightest star in every universe to him.

Regret coursed through him as he realised for the upteenth time that he took her for granted, that he should have known that falling in love only resulted in loss and pain. He thought of her beautiful personality, her amazing strength and courage, the fact that she never abandoned him, she stuck with him every journey, her honey like stark honesty, her voice, her face, her body and her lips.

He froze.

He felt a movent in his pants. After a few seconds of delayed reaction, the realisation drew an elicit groan out of him. He tried breathing through his nose, trying to calm the producing lump in his pants.

Coming to terms with the fact that his erection was going nowhere, he locked his bedroom door, then used his latest tinkering invention to silence any sounds that came out.

His eyes caught on one of many sketches of his Rose on his desk. Sitting in his chair with his eyes transfixed to the sketches, he stroked himself slowly through the fabric of his pants. Memories broke through his inner-most barrier of mind, and as if it weren't possible, he felt his heart break just that little bit more.

Pushing past the memories, he focused on what his hand was doing. There was no denying where this would end up.

His right hand teased the tip of his manhood through his trousers, and very lightly gasped as he felt a small pool of wetness already growing. He stroked his length a few times before he pulled himself free of his clothings. The Doctors dick sprang free and onto his chest with a pleasurable thump.

Now free of the restrictive clothing, he rushedly moved forward to thrust himself into his hand. The images of Rose was flashing past at great speed, almost as fast as his right hand. With his left hand he reached down and cupped his balls, massaging them to a steady beat of 'Rose'.

The sound of wet skin lapping against himself was almost his undoing, but he stopped himself from going over the edge. No, if he was going to find completion, it was going to be by his own terms.

He used the wetness from the tip of his manhood to increase his movement unrestricted. He continued to massage hinself, in the most pleasurable ways with his two hands. When he felt himself rise up to the edge, that almost-unbareable plesant itch inside him, he stopped. Now panting with restraint, he began again slowly.

He reached the edge again sooner than last time, and paused. His fingers were now slick with his fluids, and his balls and dick ached from the lack of release.

He continued this pattern another four times, and many vocal noises were ripped from his lungs again and again. To say he was greatful for his silencer devise was an understatement. He made up his mind to let himself release.

He stroked himself slowly. Once. Twice. And then rubed himself fast. The itch came along fast, but instead of stopping, he went faster, massaging himself stronger. He came with the word 'Rose' torn from his lips in an almighty groan. White fluid flew from his manhood and into his cupped hand waiting, not wanting to get it on his sketches of Rose. The aftermath left him trembling, but has he recovered, grief settled over him once more.

The Doctor methodically cleaned himself up, when Martha's voice shouted up to him. 'Doctor, if you want food you better come down or its gonna go cold'.

He replied with a shout of 'Give me five minutes and I'll be there'.

It must have been a sufficient answer for Martha did not reply.