The Doctor hoped Donna wouldn't interrupt him. He left her hours ago, trying on old clothes that were in one of the TARDIS' closets. Hopefully that would take her mind off him for a good while.
Usually, the people he came across who weren't his companions didn't dwell in his mind for very long. But Ross Jenkins had been different. Ross was young, brilliant, funny and energetic. The Doctor was very attracted to Ross. Even though he had just met the boy, he was planning to ask him to join he and Donna in the TARDIS. But the Time Lord didn't get that chance. Ross was ruthlessly cut down in his prime. The Doctor wished it had been different. He was sure he would have stayed with Ross until the very end… whatever the end was.
Still wearing his trademark pinstripes, he slipped his hand down his trousers and began to stroke himself. His eyes closed and he began to moan uncontrollably, letting his head roll back and forth. Images of a cheeky Ross flooded his mind, both real and fiction. Suddenly, the Time Lord gasped as he came; hot, white spunk staining his trousers. After he let out a few breaths, he choked back a sob, and cried.