As he thought of her, the Doctor recalled how Rose's breasts had felt warm against him as they had danced under three full moons after imbibing too many spirits on a planet-side holiday. It had been a long time since they had been that close and it made him smile to see her eyes dark with unspoken longing and that she made him mad as no being had ever done.
They wanted, longed and loved in vain because he was a Time Lord with a life times longer than hers. He would bury her after blinking in eternity and the thought broke his heart.
It was still her name that fell from his lips in the dark every night when he whispered his midnight confessions which only the Tardis heard. He visualized Rose's body over him while his fingers traced paths along her skin, giving her the pleasure she deserved and worshiping her as the one that had changed his life as no other being had. The Doctor wanted nothing more than to please Rose and having her in every imaginable way that he could, telling her what he felt for her.
Nothing else mattered in that moment but his fingers coiled around himself, how thinking of Rose's touch excited him and how he wanted to make their first time as exquisite as any she had experienced. He lay on the bed, picturing her beneath him as thoughts of her flowed through his mind.
With his age and experience, masturbating rarely satisfied him when he had so many other alternatives for shagging. His eyes burned with unshed tears at the thought of never being able to love her with all of his hearts or to tell her. That hurt far worse than knowing that he'd never be able to make love to Rose the way he desired. She was his companion, not his concubine, and he'd never take advantage of her young heart and adoration.
She wasn't a typical being overwhelmed by desire, frustrating and simultaneously admirable in the Doctor's eyes. Thus, he decided to get by with a tissue and his hands in the darkness where he slept. 'Getting by' was an expression unknown in the Doctor's lexicon, but he had nothing but heartbreak to offer his darling Rose, so touching himself in the dark had become a nightly comfort.
He pulled down his pants while touching himself and let his mind run free with his secret thoughts that he forbade himself in Rose's presence. The Doctor thought of her soft, full lips kissing him, the swell of her breasts pressing against him on a balmy night as they danced to so soft music playing in the background only a few days prior. His cock hardened swiftly, swelling with need. He saw it glisten at the tip, the slickness adhering to his fingers and making his length slick. The Doctor finally took his cock in hand, touching the length a few times before tightly wrapping his fingers around the length. He stroked lightly, gently for a few moments before increasing to a quicker, nearly delirious pace. His head sank back into the pillows and a low moan escaped him as his snapped against the pressure. He found a perfect rhythm swiftly and he closed his eyes, dreaming it was her touching him, it was Rose's mouth on his cock, taking him deeply into her as her tongue swirled around his tip. Oh, bullocks, allonz-y, if only . . .
"Rose!"
The Doctor heard his hoarse, almost anguished cry as it echoed of the Tardis was when he shouted her name into the shadow surrounding him. All the desire swelling within him exploded, a ragged breath whisper followed soon after the crying out her name. He erupted all over himself with his desires temporarily sated and reached for the tissues beside his bed. This was novel him, having a climax so consuming that he'd shouted. He wiped himself clean, fantasizing that was Rose doing it for him. He pushed the thoughts aside, not wanting any more bittersweet heartbreak of knowing he could never tell her that he loved her. He tossed the tissues into the rubbish bin and nestled beneath the covers. He knew loneliness, but Rose's absence made it only more intense.
But, then again, many of the things he'd experienced since meeting his darling Rose were unprecedented. If only. . .