It wasn't, Rose thought, the best idea to have sex up against the wall of the TARDIS. She couldn't move properly because of how tightly he was pinning her against it, slamming into her. Still, at least it was something.
He had one hand clamped to a breast, rubbing it through her top. Her skirt was pulled up around her waist, his trousers undone just enough. It wasn't the most romantic of techniques yet it was working. Most of these insane, frenzied couplings he did make her come. One time she'd screamed so loud that Jack must have thought The Doctor was killing her.
Ironic, given they always ended up fucking the hell out of each other when he and/or her avoided death.
Which was almost every day.
It wasn't what she would have imagined or wanted. A series of mind-blowing one-night stands, doing it simply because... Well, she wasn't even sure why.
It had started after that the end of the Earth. He'd taken her back to the TARDIS and helped her into bed. Then he'd climbed in with her and sex had followed shortly. Hungry, frantic, I-just-have-to-have-you-so-bad kind of sex. Then he'd got up and left her to rest. Every time danger reared its head (ah, Cardiff. Memories of that time up against the console...) they escaped, came back, and sometimes never even made it into the bed.
Always the same. He'd come to her, come in her, then leave. And nothing was ever spoken about it at any other time.
As he set her down, adjusting her skirt for her, Rose took a moment to study his face. She'd begun to wonder if there was more to this than just sex. She'd had a few one-night stands of her own to know that these didn't quite fit into that category.
The Doctor seemed intent on getting the line of her skirt to fall just right, but every now and then his gaze would drift lower, taking in her smooth legs as he did so. When a finger brushed against the skin, she thought she had her proof.
But then he stepped back.
"You should shower," he said; not quite an order, not quite a suggestion.
And suddenly she's not so sure anymore.
"Don't want Jack getting ideas," she replies.
She wants him to take that to mean she is his - property of The Doctor, hands off- rather than... Well, anything else.
It's not forever, Rose thinks as she rubs the towel over her skin. The feel, the smell of The Doctor is no longer on her body, in her hair. The feel of him in her, however, is another matter. She's a little sore, but that'll pass.
Maybe this is his way of showing affection, she thinks. His way of doing things. Sure, he looked human, and... well... they were definitely compatible. It would be ignorant of her to assume that his kind did what humans did - fall in love, settle down. He'd talked about his family, but who knew what that meant?
The only reason she lets him do this to her, have her any which way, anywhere, any time, is that she loves him. And this far away from everyone and thing that she knows, she wants to hang onto the one thing she does have.
Even if she doesn't know if he loves her in return.
He knows he has to stop this. Or at least change tact. The trouble is he's so far in (no pun intended) that he doesn't know how. He doesn't want to risk what he does have. He hadn't realised it until Platform One, but she's gotten under his skin so quickly that when they were back safe it had been inevitable. Afterwards he had been so shocked that he had to get out before she'd turned him out. Clear his head. She'd not said anything, and they'd just continued.
It was just sex, he told himself. It had to be. Rose never made any move to indicate otherwise, any hints to what direction was wanted it to go. So he continued to walk a fine line, wanting more. All she had to do was say the word, give him a hint, and he'd back off. Or profess his love.
He knew enough about her time and culture to know that sex was the norm for girls her age. She was 19, what was she going to do? Settle down with an older man. A much older man. Much older alien man for that matter. In the absence of anyone else, of course she was going to latch onto him. He was just fulfilling a need. And he'd rather him than Jack. The idea of anyone else touching her, holding her, kissing her, being inside her made his blood boil.
So until he knew what she wanted, he'd just keep going. Do everything he wants to but can't. Shouldn't. He wants her, needs her, loves every part of her. Loves making her scream, writhe, throw her head back (and it's cute that she'll hit anything that's in her way and not care). Loves doing it all to her. Just wants to do it all with her.
"OK?" he asks as she walks in.
"Fine," she replies with a smile.
Both of them wishing and wanting more.