Author's Note: Part Two of "The Art of Making Love, One Sentence at A Time" series.
All Rory can feel is heat, from his curling toes to his flushed, gleaming face to his cock, which is currently in the Doctor's warm mouth, wrapped in smouldering heat that just keeps increasing as the Doctor does these amazing things with that tongue of his, things that should be (and probably are) illegal, things that make Rory moan like a filthy whore (oh God), things that make his fingernails claw at the blue silk sheets, leaving traces of sweat behind as his back arches into a parabolic curve, which the Doctor can't help but study mathematically before he deep throats Rory, making him practically scream before he roughly pulls the Doctor up by his fringe and kisses him again because this heat he feels needs to be shared; it is made to be shared and Rory fulfills his duty to it by sliding down the Doctor's bare body and parting his full, glistening lips.
