The initial shock value on the Doctor's wide eyed, expressive face was priceless but, never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, (ok, definitely one to look a female gift horse in the mouth and start psycho-analysing and depreciating any and all affectionate gestures – no psychograph? Check! World Ending? Well probably, somewhere somewhen. Clarity of intention? Very, very clear), it was only 0.37 nano-seconds before the disagreeable parting distance was closed by a very happy Doctor.

This kiss could only be described as intense and long overdue. His soft, smooth lips pressed firmly against her moist pout and opened in a gasp of pleasure and sensory overload. He ran an incessant litany of kisses across every inch of Rose Tyler's lips before gently sucking said lips closed and pressing their heads together, holding for breathless moments as both drew cooling air through their noses and refused to part their intimate lock.

He found he could think much more singularly with his mouth clasped tenderly to Rose. Mesmerised, slender fingers raked contently through his luscious hair, sending shivers though his slender frame as he rubbed hypnotically at the hidden warmth of her neck under a blanket of blonde curls, and still neither moved. Moist air collected and condensed between the 'v' shaped grooves of their wanton lips but the inhalations were sharp and incomplete like both felt as if they should be holding their breath but didn't want to ruin the moment by going blue and bug eyed.

As time reset around the couple, they reluctantly drew apart. The Doctor's palm reached to sooth the flushed, warm skin of his companion's cheek and he fluttered his eyes open to see her smiling in awe and nuzzling into his touch.

"Was that ok?" he asked nervously.

"More than. But I think we can do better than 'ok'?" the words mingled on a breathy exhale.

This time all hesitancy was gone or at least muted somewhere deep down in the intestines or stomach, which was fluttering and coiling deliciously. She cupped his strong jaw and leaned in with tilted alacrity, their months tense and firm and as unyielding as their combined bravery. The Doctor wrapped his elbow right round her neck, sealing her securely and possessively like a last kiss that death or misfortune would rent asunder but with the heady promise of beginning, not endings.

Tongues touched with electricity and Rose marvelled at how he tasted, like the moist earth after a thunder storm, static and untempered, wild yet merciful. Their strokes were sure yet slow, each swipe at the veined underbelly like bellows to a fire. Blonde hair was gripped taut and tousled as bodies writhed to gain better purchase and feathering wings of lashes tickled her cheek while a low moan filled her mouth.

When they parted he was shaking and looking at her like some nomadic, tunnel dweller, endlessly circling labyrinthine corridors, always lost and scrabbling in the dark and she was the rising dawn. He chuckled breathlessly at the shared drama in their eyes and the barest hint of confusion and shock that both were awake and their surroundings were still in place and not blown into smithereens by some catastrophic force. Rose smiled so sublimely and reached for him in relief.

He rose then, sure and steady and held out that familiar, beloved hand, waggling his fingers in an unspoken gesture of communion, time and history, an invitation to a new adventure, a new beginning from the man that didn't do endings, a man who was calm and chaos, was barely restrained energy and serene peace. He was a man so obsessed with the final page of the unwritten book that he constantly ran from it, never wanting to stop reading and learning, an ancient and endless story but Rose knew in that instant, in that accepting yet defiant smile that he had peeked the finished prose and was ready for his happy ending even in spite of the dooming and wrenching epilogue that would surely follow.

'You wither and die…curse of the Time Lord's'- a man who experienced so much and burnt like the sun, all around him blinded in his orbit and yet would never have enough, not enough life, not enough time and still too much.

Silly flawed human who lived in the now and laughed at the near to come because she didn't have the burden of years nor a journey to pace over centuries. She'd walk this path and be his hand to hold and somehow, somewhen, she vowed to give him a forever he deserved.

With awe and wonder, so often associated with the Doctor, she now trembled in the face of the man in feelings born out of humanity and love and not of tremendous sights that shook up and realigned her every particle of being, with the fear and beauty of the timeless, alien universe. This exploration and discovery, so much more worthy and humbling.

She allowed herself to wallow in the gravity of the moment and thought it only honourable to do so as she slipped a young, fragile hand into the smooth warmth of his palm, fingers interlocking in an action of security, the much needed and reassuring constant in her life.

Without words, although the jumping vein in his rigid jaw showed the effort of silence for the inner babbling buffoon who turned so instinctually to words for solace in moments of intimacy and awkward realisations, he lead to her to the edge of the plush, midnight blue, bathed mattress and set her down.

He undressed her with such slow reverence, straining to keep his hands on the fabric with which he worked though occasionally a knuckle or fingertip would graze her heated skin and elicited a sharp breath from both. She raised her hips without hesitancy nor command and felt her cheeks touch the silken, gentle material below her. There was something so erotic about removing this last boundary and allowing actual flesh to press into something so completely belonging to the Doctor, something that represented the natural, honest state of man that was reached in privacy and slumber. She shivered from the contrast of temperature between her goosepimply skin and the surging heat at her core that caused her heart to race and pressure build.

He stood there surveying her with such a look of fond appreciation and the default gleam of Doctorish curiosity. She felt herself blush then redden further and farther as she realised he could trace her pinkening skin much lower than even a plunging neckline. She didn't know why she was embarrassed under his scrutiny because she didn't really feel it, just the psychological habit of an involuntary reaction under such a circumstance. She already knew that he knew her more completely than anyone she'd ever known and that he wasn't exactly like other men. A man who could change his face and attire, which apparently was sometimes completely egregious and a hideous insult to fashion, was surely not phased by aesthetics though she did find herself wondering when was the last time that a naked woman was so exposed before him. Did she look alien to him, would he to her? What other bodies and 'brands' was he accustomed to seeing or unlike the men from her home world did he not really see a body as anything but an anatomical study except in situations like these? She hoped this was a different situation and he wasn't medically and scientifically cataloguing her.

But then he smiled that mega watt grin and breathed out an exhale that probably neither realised he'd been holding, the word 'Beautiful' on his breath.

Rose squirmed a little and bit her lip, her eyes falling from his and an errant lock of hair falling to partially veil herself from him.

Then he stepped away and she looked up sharply, feeling more like a distant object on display and fearing what his reticence meant in her current state of vulnerability. To her surprise and relief he began to undress, not making a show of it nor hurrying it, just the normal routine of discarding one's clothes.

He tossed his jacket over the chair in a habitual move that seemed to Rose quite cavalier and had her smirking. Next his tie, though he stuttered slightly as he noticed this accessory produced a lick of the lips and he quirked an eyebrow at her.

"What? I like your ties. They're classy yet demonstrative, very anti-establishment, even in a suit!" She blushed, thinking about the many fantasies that revolved under said ties, especially the blue spangled one; maybe she'd voice them later.

The soft clap, as he tugged his tie free and it bit the air, made Rose whimper and he chuckled, his expression becoming more unmasked and comfortable.

He quickly released a few buttons and lifted both shirt and t-shirt over his head, tousling his hair at ridiculous angles by the motion. He paused, arms still buried in his clothing by his front though now showing an expanse of shoulder and chest and Rose could resist no longer approaching him in haste and gripping a handful of material to bind his captured limbs in place as she kissed and sucked at his defined neck. He groaned in surprise and clear arousal above her, trying to wriggle out of his shirts to touch her but to no available as Rose trapped him with her body.

She continued her progress dipping her tongue into the hallow of his collarbone, lavishing it gratuitously before nipping and sucking at the worried flesh. "Rose…" tumbled out brokenly as he bucked sharply against her, elucidating a wanton moan from her as she finally felt his hardness rub firmly, almost painfully, against her pelvic bone.

All restraint was now shattered as a forceful hand ripped the shirts from his arms, the buttons of the wrists pinging off some random piece of machine in joyous abandon at their new found freedom.

In a 'ha!' of triumph the Doctor immediately attacked her mouth, the momentum ushering her backwards until they fell in an unceremonious heap on the bared bed. Their teeth clashed together on impact and both paused to laugh at their eager desire. Rose thought fleetingly, about a dozen or so teenage, rom-coms she'd squealed over with her mum, laughing at the characters uncoordinated and rushed displays of puberty and was stuck dumb that this centuries old alien was making her feel like a school girl but, of course, without the awkward ignorance and peer pressure.

It felt like her first time and absently she realised happily, it was, in a way; the first time she had ever done this with somebody she felt this strongly and devoted to and yet so comfortable and unashamed with.

Travelling with the Doctor, there had been so many firsts. The sights and experiences with him were so beyond her scale of possible that they were shooting off into the stratosphere and therefore as composed, flirty and confident as she wanted to appear, her reactions were always so naked and true, so herself that for the first time in her life she was forced to embrace truly feeling and being herself without any pretence. It was disconcerting at first but now lying limp under the solid and slightly sharp body the Doctor, it felt freeing.

He propped himself up on his elbows and beamed down at her, the laughter crinkles around his eyes, showing so much life and character.

"Am I crushing you?"

"Nah! You couldn't crush a Sontaran!" she giggled and he, with feline speed, poked her in the ribs before pinning her arms, somehow coming unstuck, upside her head and leaning in close with a devilish twinkle in his eye, "Is that right? 'Cause I plan to knock the breath out of you!" She shuddered at his husky words, so far from the teasing banter they normal share, and the accompanying thrust of his hips to her sex, whimpering at his strong, demanding hold on her.

Reflexively the Doctor backed off looking a little abashed and concerned but Rose immediately looped her arms round his neck and pulled him back down unto her hard, his breath tickling and caressing the tiny hairs on her neck.

"No. I like the feeling of you on top of me. Your power, so subtle yet compelling," it was his turn to whimper helplessly by her ear and she fought back a smug grin.

"Oh Rose," the feel of his body was delicious, suddenly flesh to flesh after so long and the rasping wool of his trousers provided such amazing friction that she found herself grinding into him unconsciously as their breathing lost all structure and plan, in a series of heavy, panted moans. Oh God, he sounded so desperate, almost pained as they rocked and bucked fiercely in an ancient dance and game of dominance.

Rose was the first to yield, bracing her hands on hips and urging him to raise them. She slipped her hand between them, unfastening the cumbersome buttons and zips without sight, caught paralysed as she was in his longing and heated stare.

The Doctor let out a strangling cry, bearing his teeth and arching like a cobra above her as her deft hands parted his flies and grabbed hold of him firmly, her need and passion, overwhelming curiosity and the delicacy of gentle fluttered strokes.

"Oh God," his whole body was tense and prised. "Rose," he grunted. "Please…it's…it's too much. Haven't been touched in…so long…so sensitive."

She blanched in horror taking in the prominent veins throbbing on his neck and the shake of his muscles levering his body. She quickly soothed him with reassurances as she carefully moved him to a more comfortable position on his back, his hand in hers as she knelt by his side hovering over him, waiting while his strained breathes started to abate.

He craned his neck up to look at her, face flushed and eyes ashamed, "I'm sorry. Sorry…I'm letting you down," he whispered and Rose could see his expressive eyes glazing with moisture.

"No. No. Never!" she stroked back his damp and unruly hair. "You really have no idea how beautiful and sexy you are, do you? I mean you really have no clue? You're not just playing coy. You don't realise how every action and gesture is so infused with sexuality. You're such an impossible parody, the most sexual and, at the same time, asexual man I know."

The Doctor looked utterly confused and determined to protest once he got his breathing under control. He marvelled that this human child could see him in such a way, that she defied his posturing charades and ripped such honesty from him, leaving a gapping, terrifying wound that would kill him or resurrect him to someone he'd forgotten he could be - carefree, full of life and the fullness of life not just in part, compartmentalised in his structure and disguise but a whole, overflowing being.

He kicked off his trousers and chucks and pulled her over him like a safety blanket, reluctant to lose the warmth and sensation he'd so recently discovered.

"I'm an alien, Rose," he offered fondly and sadly to her wide loving eyes which she promptly rolled, "Oh my God, really? Like honest to God? You weren't just joking?"

"Oi, I'm trying to say something here and I'm not good and actually saying something," he moaned.

"Ok. Sorry. But did anyone ever tell you that it's better to stop talking and start doing?" she quipped, challengingly, hiding a secret smile just for him.

"You don't like talking? Really?" he mused. "Oh hang on, tangent. You're distracting me," he grumbled exasperated and Rose merely shimmied a little above him, adding insult to injury apparently, judging from the outraged look in his eyes.

"I'm an alien, Rose," she bit her lip and nodded. "I'm a Time Lord and I can't help think about time and its toll. But with you I can look passed that. You make me feel like…like a man. Just an ordinary man, holding you, wanting you, loving you."

The incredible and startling reality hit Rose again and she couldn't help but give the soppiest, most genuine and amazed smile, cringing inwardly at how she must look and then telling that part to 'shove off'!

"Ok, maybe talking isn't overrated," and still the smile was firmly in place and in that instant she thought it would never diminish, her jaw would just have to get used to it. She laughed suddenly.

"What?"

"Sorry, just thinking about what my mum always told me as a child," the Doctor grimaced and retched mockingly as if he had a fur-ball at the mention of her mother. She slapped him lightly and the playful, scandalous outrage was back.

"She said, that if I didn't stop pulling faces, that the wind would change and I'd be stuck like that. I'm not felling a breeze but I think she might've been right!" still smiling.

"Well chalk one up to good ol' Jackie. She was bound to get something right eventually," she slapped his toned arm again, giggling. "Oi! I mean statistically speaking…" and she slapped him again. "Oh, stuff statistics!" and he lunged up and captured her mouth in a bruising, searing kiss that had Rose's toes curling.

"And you're right, less talking," his hands stroked down her back and grabbed around her bum, hoisting her forward to meet his hardened flesh. They both gasped, breaking the kiss. "You can talk if you want to. I wouldn't dare try to change you!"

"Oh really," he sneered, rising his lips to her ear and earning a shiver from his moist, hot breath. "Can I talk about how I want to fuck you until you scream? How it's killing me slowing not to be buried inside you, so deep and hard. That I can't even wait long enough to make you beg, though you will next time when I properly explore your heat with my fingers and tongue, devouring you and holding you on the edge of such bliss that you'll go mad before I finally make you cum harder than ever could have imagined in your life."

Rose was a wilting, melting pool of heat and desire, whimpering and rutting against his cock like a starved bitch, beseeching with her eyes and scrabbling hands that were everywhere she could possible reach at once. And it was working; he was coming undone, writhing beneath her and throwing his head back and forth in ecstasy and frustration.

She won as he literally tossed her onto her back and sank into her in one strong thrust. She was more than ready, her juices bleeding down her quivering thighs like a liquid wine of sex.

The shock and elation reflected in matching eyes was palpable and he had to hold still to gain some semblance of restraint and control, pinning Rose's hips to the bed as she helplessly continued to undulate around his sensitive shaft. He shot her a warning look and she nodded but keened in desperation and he almost broke right then and there still so enchanted that this pink and yellow goddess could possibly want him so severely.

Moments pass that felt like hours, gazes locked and breaths were quieted and stressed as if they ere hiding in some darkened alcove, waiting for a group of murdering, marauding despots to pass so they could move and make there escape. Never before had sex felt like life or death but somehow he knew he was going to die long before Rose's short years lapsed if he couldn't hear her make those licentious sounds again or feel her tantalisingly talented muscles contract around him. He felt a gleeful, boyish pride at being complicit in such nefarious and explicit behaviour.

"All clear?" Rose gasped below him, echoing his thoughts. He answered by starting to move as achingly slowly as he could endure, pulling almost all the way out before sliding arduously back in, sighing in pleasure. However the little minx below him was not so patient, clenching her muscles as he drove forward again making her so blissfully tight he swore he saw stars that even he couldn't name.

Her eyes shone with those same indefinable balls of brilliant light as he punished her with a sharp deep thrust that had her arching off the bed and into his arms, clinging on for dear life.

Desperately trying to remember his reasons for deliberateness then shooing the unhelpful notion from his head, he plunged into her willing, wonderful embrace in earnest, begging all the gods throughout the galaxies that he could make this perfect union last.

She was already coming around him, her muscles quaking in exquisite spasms again and again as waves tore through her body like a powerless buoy carried by a storm. Her breath was forced out of her like a physical punch to the gut, her assailant's name deified in a whisper. But he keep going beyond the stars, beyond the pulsing nebulas and spiralling galaxies, beyond the teeming universe and beyond Time itself, hard, rough strokes as gratifying in pain as in pleasure before he felt her coil and burst again and this time he followed her, he would follow her anywhere and this was into the jowls of hell or gates of heaven and both screamed as the impossibility of gravity, physics and existence beyond their bodies and minds disappeared in rapturous oblivion.