They sprinted into the TARDIS, and Rose heard the door shut behind them as they reached the console. She leaned on the lip of the console, catching her breath, watching him as he pulled on levers and knobs. He moved around the controls to turn on the screen as they began the journey, the TARDIS's "vworp" sound signalling their departure. She moved to avoid his path around the glowing blue column, setting their course. Instead she watched the video on the screen as the facility they had just escaped collapsed under the weight of the Doctor's avalanche.

"That was close," she commented, grinning teasingly at him. He was glowing with the adrenaline of the adventure. She always felt the same way when they crashed through the TARDIS doors: exhilarated and excited and so happy to be there, with him.

"Nonsense," he replied with a smirk. "That was the plan all along."

"Uh huh," she said, grinning at him with her tongue between her teeth. He just smirked at her self-importantly, so she laughed. "Where to next, Doctor?"

"Does it matter?" he said, and his eyes had gone black.

"No," she said, and she knew what would happen next. They had a routine now. After every close escape, after every thrilling adventure, they would find themselves with veins full of adrenaline—adrenaline morphing into something more sultry. All that flight-or-flight energy had to go somewhere, and they had found just where to channel it.

Silently, he took her hand and they headed towards his bedroom. Their hands' contact was beyond electric, and her heart pounded for even the innocuous touch. The contact was so powerful, in fact, that they barely made it around the first corner in the corridor before he was on her, pressing her back against the wall for leverage as he kissed her with passion that was more than human. She ran her fingers through his hair as they kissed—she loved his hair, amazed at how it could be so soft and yet defy gravity so adamantly.

While her fingers wondered at his hair, his hands crept up underneath her shirt. "Couldn't wait?" she teased, as he kissed her jawbone.

"Not another second," he agreed, and she wrapped her leg around his waist as he kissed the hollow of her neck.

"Doctor," she sighed contentedly, and quickly became lost in the onslaught of sensation. It felt like his hands were everywhere good at once, touching her at once tenderly and roughly in all the right ways. As the seconds passed, she became more reliant on his arms to keep her on her feet. His whole body pressed them against the wall, keeping her upright. She was losing herself to him, even as she tried to keep afloat. She tugged his tie out of his jacket and loosened it, and then she unbuttoned the jacket.

His fingers undid her jeans as hers undid his shirt. It was all she could do to keep her arms wrapped around his neck as his hand slipped down her pants. Her head relaxed back on her neck as he pleasured her.

"Only a few steps more to the bedroom" she teased breathlessly, but didn't mean for him to move. Quite the contrary. The change in setting kept her on her toes, quite literally.

"Shut up," he said, but it wasn't necessary. He shut her up with his hand instead.

"Doctor," she moaned. He was so good at driving her crazy. He claimed that he didn't read her mind to figure out what she wanted, but she didn't always believe him. He followed every shift of her mood flawlessly, doing everything right. Not that she minded that at all.

The fingers of his left hand teased her breast through her bra, and the texture of the fabric added an unusual sensation to the action. She didn't know how much longer she could keep above the surface of his ministrations. She was gasping for breath, paddling frantically, and he was doing his best to pull her under.

"Doctor," she gasped this time, not sure if she was begging him to stop or to grant her release. Whatever words followed that supplication were completely incoherent. He was winning.

Somewhere, in the overpowered thinking part of her mind, she realised that things were unequal, that she should be pleasuring him as well. She managed to unhook one of her hands and move it down towards his belt, but he would have none of that. It became painfully obvious that he had been toying with her, as it only took him a single firmer move of his finger to send her careening over the edge.

He held her, supported her, sustained her pleasure for as long as he could. He waited patiently, adoration on his face, for her to catch her breath and grin at him, face flushed. He planted a gentle kiss on her cheek before sweeping her into his arms and carrying her to his bedroom.

He placed her on the bed and began to remove his dishevelled layers. Rose smirked at him as she shimmied out of her clothes from a suggestive position on the bed. He leaned down to pull off his trousers and she pretended to be offended that he could take his eyes off her. She unhooked her bra and threw it at him, hitting him smack on the face.

He froze—shirtless, boxers askew on thin hips, one leg still in his trousers—to look up at her, and his lips parted slightly to accommodate his suddenly shallow breath. "Your hair's too perfect," he said, and his voice was dark.

She bit a corner of her lip coyly as her hand went up to her hair, still pinned in place from their earlier adventure. Slowly, she tugged the pins out and her hair fell onto her shoulders, still tame but crimped and creased from the updo. "Better?" she asked shyly, swinging a leg back and forth.

"Oh yes," he said, and he stumbled in his haste to remove his remaining clothes and join her.

He crawled onto the bed and sat back on his heels, observing her thoroughly. The flush from her orgasm had faded, but she was still a healthy, sexy shade of pink exactly where it suited her. Under his scrutiny, she reclined and stretched her arms over her head, her breasts falling tantalizingly out and up. But he ignored his urge to leap on her where she was and have his way with her; he had something else in mind for her today.

"Rose, come here," he said.

She propped herself up on her elbows. "Come on, Doctor. I'm ready," she mock-whined, but there was an undertone of urgency. She must have heard the slight desperation, because, just a second late to seem natural, she flashed him her signature grin, tongue and all. The effect that grin had on him in any form was powerful, and he once again had to use all of his willpower to keep his hands off her.

"I just want to try something a bit different this time," he said, and after scrutinizing him for a few seconds, she sat up.

"Alright. I'm up for it."

He smiled at her, but his arousal was definitely more urgent than any discussion they might have. Instead, he gestured for her to straddle him, still kneeling on the bed, and she complied, with a smile to match his. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned in to kiss her, but she startled him by settling down on him, eliciting a gasp that he couldn't hold back. So it was Rose who pulled him in for a deep kiss, running her fingers through his hair, pressing her breasts against him. It was Rose who controlled their pace and rhythm. It was only Rose who could do this to him.

"Rose," he gasped when they broke for breath. "Rose," he moaned when she nibbled his ear. Rose. Only Rose. Always Rose. She was the only woman he had felt anything for since the War, and even before. Rose could take something as simple and biological as sex and make it incredible, something he not only enjoyed but desired every time he caught a glimpse of the smile she saved for him, or the so soft brush of her lips on his.

"Doctor," she moaned when she broke the kiss again, and this time she was breathing so shallowly she did not return to it. He could feel the difference their new position was making for her, felt the way every movement stimulated her. It was working on him too, and had expected no different with the new level of closeness.

"Doctor," she moaned again, frantically, and he had to brace himself for her orgasm. It was all he could do not to follow her over, but he wanted this to be unforgettable to her, something to make sure their sex never became boring or routine, and he was prepared to give her as much pleasure as she could stand.

When she came, the look of ecstasy on her face made every muscle in his body go rigid. The way she cried out to him made him tremble with the effort of controlling himself. He was frozen, watching her, simultaneously loving and hating the feeling she gave him, the feeling that he was a slave to love and lust at once, and yet still powerful to her. It all assaulted him at once, as he watched her and held her in his arms and felt her on his everything, and his willpower cracked.

"Rose," he managed, his voice terse, "may I?"

"Yes," she gasped as she rode out the waves, "yes!"

Honestly, he had no idea what he would have done if she had said no. His pleasure took him hard, and he gasped for breath, forgot how to command his body. She was still gasping encouragement to him, and the sound of her voice was the only thing he was sure of in the incredible bliss that had taken him. It lasted forever and yet not long enough, and when his eyes slid closed he thought he would never open them again if it weren't for the promise of seeing her face again.

When he remembered himself, he found himself snuggled warm with her on the bed. He opened his eyes to look at her, and she was in his arms, dozing, stroking his hair absently with one hand. The corners of her mouth were upturned in a slight content smile, and he tenderly brushed a piece of hair out of her face. She stirred, but did open her eyes, instead cuddling closer to him. He smiled and closed his eyes, succumbing to the bliss he felt with her. Travelling could wait. He couldn't imagine any place in all of space and time he'd rather be than in her arms.