A/N: Hi there. Here's part 2 (of 3, I think... maybe 4). Enjoy... O.A. :-D
The kiss was rough and untutored, and too urgent to be gentle. The Doctor was awkward, as he often seemed to be, in this body, and had no finesse. But once he tasted her lips he was like a man crazed and dying of thirst, and she was the only thing that could slake it.
Rose seemed unfazed by his lack of grace and she gave as good as she got, pulling at his bow tie, tearing at his shirt, and raking her nails over his chest hard enough to leave marks through the fabric as he plundered her mouth with his own, his fists full of her silky blond hair.
By the time she pulled away, gasping for air, her hoodie was on the ground and his shirt was half untucked with two buttons missing. Her eyes were so dark they were almost black, and the whole console room felt warmer.
"Tonight," she declared, in a voice that only barely shook. "We can have tonight." The uncertainty was gone from her face, now that she could see how badly he wanted her here with him.
"Tonight I am yours," she continued, "and tonight you are mine. This you. The one that needs me."
He chuckled at that, but it wasn't a happy sound.
"You have never met a 'me' who doesn't need you, Rose," he muttered.
Her smile was bittersweet.
What the hell did he think he was doing? This was madness to even consider. There was no way this could end without heartbreak.
He stood still, brows drawn together, knowing he shouldn't entertain this madness, because the joy of the moment would only be overshadowed by the misery of losing her again, but he was unable to walk away. Especially as she began to walk towards him, holding his gaze and stripping her clothes slowly as she approached.
He shook his head as she came closer, but she didn't stop. She had his number now. She knew his resistance was not based on any sort of world-shattering paradox, but only in fear of feeling too much.
And suddenly she was close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off of her skin.
"Touch me, Doctor," she whispered in his ear when she was left in nothing but her underthings.
She finished unbuttoning his shirt and shoved it off of his shoulders along with his braces. She pulled his undershirt over his head, slowly, gently while he stood trembling on the spot.
Even still, he couldn't make himself surrender to her.
"Rose, you know that I'm different. You know Time Lords don't care about things like... snogging. This can't mean the same things to me that it means to you."
He wasn't lying, precisely. Sex had never been a huge drive for him, over the years. And it did hold much more interest for humans. But what he didn't want to admit was that this body was young and fit, even younger than his prior one, and had all the inclinations of a young and fit man (who had learned a lot of exceptionally creative uses for his body from his mad, dangerous, delicious psychopath of a wife). Humans, moreover, of Rose's time and place, often assigned great emotional significance to the act of sex. And that... The feeling of belonging. The feeling of being loved, not because you'd saved a planet from Daleks, but just becaue you were you, and someone thought you were worth it... That on its own was seductive enough to paralyze him where he stood.
And so he couldn't actually look Rose in the face and deny that he wanted her. But he couldn't make himself reach out for her. And so he stood still.
Next she discarded her panties, bra. His breath caught in her throat as she stood naked before him, completely unselfconscious and open and comfortable in her skin.
"I don't know about the Time Lords' rules on snogging. But I know you're terrible at being a proper Time Lord," she replied to his protest, ghosting a hand over the bulge in his trousers that bellied his dismissive words. "You always have been."
He turned away and closed his eyes.
Finally she sighed, turning his head to face her with gentle fingers and looking up into his face.
"Doctor. If this is the last night you ever see me, ever, in all of time and space, is this really how you want to spend it? Being sad and miserable? Is that truly better than letting me lo-" She cut herself of abruptly and choked down the word, and his hearts pounded in the empty space where it echoed anyway.
He knew, of course. All of time and space knew how much she loved him. And though he'd never be able to say it, she should know he'd love her until the end of the universe.
But he realized she wasn't sure about that. She wasn't even totally certain he'd come back for her in the morning. And now she was about to cry. Because of him. Again. He cursed to himself. Exactly how many times was he meant to break this woman's heart?
He thought of Daleks and Cybermen. Canary Wharf. He thought of time and space collapsing and stars going out and that moment in the middle of it, when he'd realized how completely she still owned his hearts, because he couldn't even bring himself to care that reality was crumbling when it meant that she was finally living and breathing in front of him again. He recalled the second of their impossibly heartbreaking conversations at Bad Wolf Bay, seething with jealousy as he watched a man who wore his face looking into her eyes and promising to live out "the one adventure he could never have." He thought of every hurt and pain and sadness he had endured, that she had yet to bear.
And then he thought of River, mad, wonderful, infuriating River, who had come so suddenly into his world and consistently turned it on its ear. Who mystified him and exasperated him and inspired him and who made him remember what it was like to have peers instead of disciples. River, his wife who loved him too much to be possessive with him, or jealous of his past, in whose eyes he could see as much love as in Rose's, and who he'd sent away in anger, simply because she'd been trying to give him a moment of happiness.
And then he looked up at River's gift, at Rose's gift, at the warm, beautiful, naked body of the woman in front of him, who loved him beyond reason, no matter whose face he wore, who had swallowed the time vortex to save his life, who would soon bend the rules of reality to find him from another world, and he smiled, and he made his choice.
He could not bear to make her cry. Not this time.
He had mourned Rose twice already, and he would mourn her again tomorrow. But not tonight. As Rose herself had pointed out, tonight was a gift, and he would not allow himself to squander it.
He sighed heavily.
"No," he said, finally, leaning forward and gently kissing her head where her brows knit together.
She let out a breath she had been holding. "No?"
Her eyes were full of fear at his ambiguity, the fear that he was refusing her, and turning away.
"No, it isn't better to be miserable, he clarified softly, sliding one hand into her hair and turning her face up towards him, "and you're quite right. If i get to have these few hours with you, which I never thought I would ever have again, I think there are much better ways we could be spending our time."
She laughed with relief and it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.
He kissed her slowly, deliberately, and with much more intention than before. He nibbled on her lip and traced her mouth with his tongue. He reveled in the taste of her, tried to lose himself in the scent of her shampoo. He kissed her with all the passion he felt that could never have a voice, willing her to feel and understand how much she meant to him, his pink and yellow Rose.
When he pulled away she sighed in appreciation, her eyes dark and heavy lidded with lust, and she was smiling that smile... the one with her tongue playing between her teeth.
He, far from unaffected by the kiss, found his mind bombarded with images of all the better uses he could find for that insolent tongue.
She unzipped his trousers, as though reading his mind, and stepped back, waiting.
He toed off his shoes, and took a step towards the corridor, the smile on his face growing with the hunger in his eyes.
"Come along, Tyler," he beckoned her with a smirk, then extended his hand. She took it, and he closed his fingers tight around hers, memorizing the feel of her hand in this new one of his.
She stepped closer and closed the distance between them.
"Allons-y," she said, grinning.
And they took off running as fast as they could down the hallway.
When they reached the door to his bedroom he slammed her against it hard, pinning her arms above her head and pillaging her mouth with his while she whimpered and squirmed against him.
"impatient," he accused.
"We don't have much time," she countered. "And you're still wearing trousers."
"We have hours."
"How many?"
"Seven hours and eleven minutes, til your mum's alarm rings," he told her.
Not nearly long enough, he thought.
The feral sound she made in her throat told him she felt the same way he did.
He opened the door, catching her in his arms effortlessly and pitching her onto the bed.
"Now," he grinned, "You mentioned something about trousers?"
He was roguishly disheveled as he stood in front of her and slid out of his slacks and pants, moving suddenly slower and putting on a show just to make her wait. She licked her lips and his cock throbbed.
"Rose-" he began, but was cut off by the mind-melting sensation of his cock disappearing into the hot, hungry heat of her mouth, as she crawled forward and took his whole length.
She devoured him as though she needed his flesh to breathe, greedy and impatient. At one moment she took too much too fast and nearly choked as his cock reached the back of her throat. He saw stars, and in that moment he would have sworn that in a thousand years of living he had never once known anything so erotic as the sight of her eyes stinging with tears an causing her mascara to run as she fought to swallow him to the root.
He felt his knees turn to liquid and let loose a string of expletives in Gallifreyan that would have made him blush if he hadn't been the one to utter them.
Rose released his cock, gasping for air, and smiled up at him with red, swollen lips.
"I've always wanted to do that," she confessed, pulling him down onto the bed before he could regain his balance.
"Have you?" he gasped, trying to pull together some semblance of self control even as his prick ached in protest at the absence of her mouth.
"Since... the end of the world. Our first date."
The sincerity in her eyes was more than he could bear.
"Rose, Rose, Rose... " he breathed, pulling her closer to him and reaching up to cup a breast in his hand. She resisted.
"No," she chastised with a cheeky grin. "Uh-uh."
"No?" He repeated, confused.
"Not until after you come. I want to taste it..."
Her face was playful, full of mischief.
His cock swelled to bursting at the sound of those filthy words on his precious Rose's lips. She wouldn't have to wait long for her wish if she kept talking like that.
"I... But... After? I... I will be useless. No good to you."
"You'll have time to recover. How long have we got?" She asked, ignoring his protests.
"Six hours and 46 minutes."
"Better get to it, then."
And with that she kissed her way down his body, raking her nails lightly down his ribs and hips, digging her fingers into the firm flesh of his arse and humming with pleasure as she bent over him and tasted him again.
She fisted one hand around the base of his cock and pumped slowly as she swirled her tongue around the engorged head, lapping at the drops of fluid as they appeared there. She set a smooth, rhythmic pace that hypnotized him as it threatened to drive him mad.
"Oh Doctor," she breathed, gazing up at him, "you taste amazing."
And that was his undoing. He came as hard as he ever had, babbling incoherently in six languages.
When he came back to himself, she was smiling and running her fingertips over his chest.
And then it was her turn.
He tumbled her over and pinned her down with his deceptively strong arms. Then he kissed her for a long, long time. He raked his nails lightly over every inch of her, delighting in her noises of desperation and waiting as long as he could stand to give in and taste her.
He bent his head to her nipples and kissed them gently, suckled them, and nibbled on them until she cried out in desperation.
He crawled down her body reverently and moved to her core. Gently, he kissed her there... and the sweet, earthy scent of her, bursting with pheromones, combined with her gasps and pleas of, "God, Doctor, now, yes!" had him growing hard again before he knew it.
He reveled in the flavor of her, and marveled at the slickness that met his fingers when he reached up to touch her.
She gasped and cried and he felt like a god. His entire world narrowed to giving this woman a hint of the joy and wonder she deserved in her life.
So singleminded was he that he actually, for a moment, lost track of time. Suddenly her orgasm overtook her, surprising him, and she cried out under his body, shuddering and sobbing, and dragged him up her body for a fierce kiss.
"How long now l?" She gasped.
"Six hours and four minutes."
She nodded solemnly.
"Doctor," she said in a low, heavy voice that was almost a growl. "Fuck me. Now."
He had never felt so like an animal. He moved over her, placing a hand on either side of her shoulders and pausing for a moment to take in her flushed cheeks and damp hair, and to get control over his body.
She was having none of that. She grabbed the base of his cock, now fully hard again, and rolled her hips up until the tip of it grazed the wet heat of her.
"Right. Now," she demanded, digging her nails into his arm.
And with that he lost control. He surged forward with an animalistic growl, driving into her as hard as he could on the first thrust.
He was afraid for a moment that he had harmed her, but she moaned softly in pleasure and whispered, "Yesssss," raising her legs to wrap them around his hips and draw him close against her.
"Like this?" He asked, wanting to be sure.
Her eyes flashed. "Harder," she challenged him. "I want to feel this for days, and think of you."
"Rose..."
"I've been yours since day one, Doctor. All yours. You aren't going to hurt me. I want you. I want this."
And because he knew it was utterly true, he gave her what she wanted. He leaned down and kissed her hard as he resumed his thrusting, deep and rough and not at all the sort of loving that his beautiful Rose deserved. But she had asked for it, and he was helpless to do anything but grant it to her. And so he fucked her as hard as he could and poured into each driving thrust the desperation, the longing, and the joy that he felt when he thought of their time together.
He felt a surge of wonder as she came. Like everything else, she did it with abandon, crying out with her head thrown back in surrender to the sensations.
Afterwards she was even wetter, more sensitive, more responsive, and her mews and gasps increased, breathy and urgent. The sound of her voice fed his own lust and he drove into her faster, reveling in the sight and the sound and the feel of his beautiful Rose.
His orgasm felt like it was ripped from his body, tied to all of the desperate emotions he felt. And she cried out with him, eyes rapt and she took in the sight of his climax.
They collapsed next to each other on the bed, each facing the other as she gasped for air and he (not winded, because of his respiratory bypass) brushed the damp hair out of both of their faces.
"Well, Rose Tyler," he said with a languid smile. "That was..."
"Fantastic," she sighed, smiling with her tongue between her teeth.