Title: 5 Clichés That Didn't Work, and 1 That Did
Author: sinecure
Character/Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: Humor, romance
Summary: Rose and the Doctor trample through the clichés.
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. (insert witty reason why, here)
Author's Notes: Thanks; to JennyLD, my partner in crime and fellow smut-writer, no matter how much she do protest

"Doctor," Rose whined, sliding her hands under her thighs. The wood beneath her knuckles hurt a little, but it didn't help to take her mind off her problem.

She really wished she hadn't had that third glass of P'teryn wine.

The crowd around them paid her no mind. All their focus was on the man speaking at the head of the group. Mutters of affirmation and rustling rose up around them every once in a while, but Rose couldn't concentrate on anything but her own body.

She shifted restlessly, unable to find a comfortable position on the pew. "How much longer?" Her perfectly reasonable question was made a little less so when followed by a low moan.

The Doctor looked down at her, his brow furrowed. He raised a hand--to comfort her?--but settled his palm lightly on his thigh instead. "An hour," he told her regretfully.

She moaned again. Embarrassment and shame were warring inside her even as she shifted more fitfully. "I don't think I can make it that long." Crossing one leg over the other helped briefly. She squeezed her legs tight, groaning at the pressure.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor murmured, leaning closer so as not to be overheard. His breath whispered across her cheek, making her shudder.

"That's not helping," she snapped, leaning toward him. Her arm brushed his, the sleeve of his suit coat feeling deliciously textured against her bare arm. "Oh, god, Doctor, please," she begged, not knowing exactly what she was asking of him. "Can't we just go?" she pleaded, biting her lip to keep from making more embarrassing noises.

He shook his head, eyes straight ahead as she scooted closer and rubbed herself against him. His voice was a little strained. "It's not just considered rude," he explained, "it's also an affront to the gods and goddesses."

Rose sighed explosively. "So?" Giving up all pretense of decorum, she climbed on top of him and straddled his lap, sighing at the feel of him beneath her, shuddering when she felt his erection.

When he made no move to touch her, she took his hands in hers and slid them under her shirt.

Good thing they were in the back pew. And it was night. Otherwise the P'teryn's might be a little upset at the sight.

Rose didn't care anymore. Her entire body was on fire and she needed to be touched. She needed friction. God, she needed the Doctor to shag her right now!

She bent over and nipped at his neck, whispering into his ear as he'd done to her. "Worst they can do is chuck us in jail, right? Nothin' new there." She grinned as his fingers clenched against her skin. " 'sides, we could use a little privacy, yeah?" She pulled back a little to look at him.

So what if they'd never done this before. Never touched like this, or kissed, or shagged, or... well, it wasn't like she hadn't wanted to. This was just a nice catalyst for where she thought they could've possibly been heading anyway. Sometime. Maybe. In the future. Perhaps.

The Doctor was still staring straight ahead, but she could see the tightness in his jaw, the bob of his Adam's apple. His hands reached her breasts, met her bra, slid back down to her waist and pressed her down on him.

Oh, he definitely wanted.

Whether he wanted her or just anyone at this point though, she didn't know and didn't care.

His eyes were nearly black in the moonlight as they lifted to her face, wide and dilated. Obviously aroused. "Death." His lips barely moved with the word before he drew her down and pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her hard and hungrily. Devouring her.

"What?" she managed breathlessly. When his hips began to raise and lower under hers, she found it very hard to pay attention to anything else but the heat and friction he was causing and curing in her.

"Death." He pulled away, still holding her down on him. So hard. "That's the penalty. We can't leave."

Rose groaned and dropped down on him bonelessly. "An hour?" she whimpered. Glancing around the dark church, she bit her lip. "Think they'd notice if we--"

The Doctor snorted and rested his forehead against hers. "I'd think so, seeing as we're the guests of honor."

She whimpered and ground herself against him. "Well, why did they give us that stupid aphrodisiac wine if they wanted us to stay and watch their stupid-- oh god, do that again." Her eyes opened to find him watching her intensely as he repeated the motion of his hips against her while his thumbs brushed the undersides of her breasts.

"They didn't--" he stopped to clear his throat when his voice came out thin and strained. "They didn't know it was an aphrodisiac for humans." His eyes closed briefly when she scraped her nails down the nape of his neck.

"And Time Lords," she added, smirking at the Doctor and his superior physiology now.

"And Time Lords," he agreed, halting the motion of her hips. "Stop." His breathing was labored, shuddering against her lips as he lifted his mouth to within a breath of her own. "We're about to become the focus of the ritual, might be best if we... Rose, stop it."

She bit her lip and held her hips still with all her willpower, resisting his efforts to move her back to her seat on the pew. "How long?"

He sighed and rested his forehead against hers once more. "Fifty minutes give or take."

She drew in a deep breath and climbed off of him, ignoring his gasp as she did so. The loss of his hard body against hers and his cool hands under her top made her clench her own hands into fists in order to prevent herself from jumping on him again, church-goers be damned.

He took her hand, forcing her fingers to loosen and twine with his. Not how he usually held her hand, but more than enough for this particular moment in time. He leaned toward her, his lips and breath tickling her flesh as he spoke. "The aphrodisiac will wear off in forty."