Author's Note: Sorry for the delay! I'm currently tudying for exams (: This prompt was given to me by takethedamnbanana, and what a successful prompt it was. Enjoy! ;)

Four: A Matter of Words

Crave
verb
1. To long for, want greatly, desire eagerly;
2. To require, need;
3. To ask earnestly for, beg for.

"Here we are, then," the Doctor said, slipping the rusted metal into the oddly shaped hole in the front door of their cottage. "Home safe and sound, as promised."

Rose gave him an odd smile a she walked past him into the living room, and the Doctor bit his lip with slight nervousness once she had passed. Was she going to call him on his actions tonight? He severely hoped not because, quite honestly, he didn't have a clue how he was going to explain himself.

His hormones had been acting weird since they'd got here. Sure, the air was fresh and clean, and smelled lovely, the landscapes and skyscapes were some of the most beautiful he'd seen, the company was a woman he wouldn't change for the universe, and as yet Nothing Bad Had Happened... but there something different about him, he could feel it. His hearts felt lighter, easier, and he often couldn't think in a straightforward line. His thoughts often abandoned him just as he was getting to the really good part and he was... well, he was 'noticing' things a lot more than he had been.

Like, Rose, for an example. Just a small, unimportant example. He noticed the way she looked, the way she moved, the way light danced off her skin and the way her scent wound around him in the air. He noticed the way she carried herself, the way she held herself, the way her quick eyes darted around a new room and the way her body moulded with his when they'd –

No, the Doctor told himself firmly, and he shook his head as he shut the front door. What in the name of the Time Lords had got into him?

He made for the sofa, with every intention of flopping down into it with tired exhaustion. But then Rose began to say something , and his eyes went to her. And, once again, he was completely taken with the image of her in that dress, which sparkled new and different colours at him in the soft firelight. While they had been out, one of the housekeepers had evidently come in and lit the candles for them, as the same glow from the fire bathed the rest of the room. Shadows lay elongated in strange directions and, before the Doctor could stop himself, he was walking very slowly over to Rose.

She stopped talking, frowning at him in confusion a little, but she stayed rooted to the spot.

"What?" she asked as he drew closer.

"You really do look lovely in that dress, you know," he said, tone low and his fingers twitching slightly by his side. "I wonder..."

Briefly, he let his eyes rake the material again, but he dragged them away from the fascinating material all too soon and up into her eyes. She met his gaze with open patience, and something of a question lacing her irises.

"Can I...?" the Doctor began, and he edged his hand towards her like a timid animal, signalling the dress.

Slowly, holding his eye contact, Rose nodded.

Gently, so gently he doubted she would be able to feel it, he rested his hand on her hip, dropping his gaze to watch as his fingers drifted deftly over the fibres in the dress. The feel of the material beneath his skin was exquisite. It was course yet fine, smooth and satiny, but with a definite personality and charm to it. Even with the extra senses in his skin, it was unlike anything he had ever remembered feeling. Then slowly, with the patience and elegance of a practised man, the Doctor began to let his hand drift up the side of Rose's torso, relishing the fabric beneath his touch. He felt her body tense underneath his fingertips as he climbed higher, heard the subtle gasp elicit from her mouth, and his eyes flicked daringly up to meet his.

She was watching him under hooded lashes, and something he would never before have associated with Rose – well, not really, not often at least – danced in her eyes. It sent a shiver down his spine that then began to spread around his whole body.

He started to trace the top of the dress with just his forefinger and thumb, dragging bare millimetres of his skin across Rose's in the process. She made another gasp, and he dropped his focus to his fingers.

"Very beautiful," he murmured, leaning forward ever so slightly as his hand worked back the way it had just come. "This dress. Very, very beautiful." Then, looking up once more and feeling strengthened by something he couldn't explain, he added, "It suits you."

Her mouth was open, just a little, and he wondered what it would be like to explore it. He'd wondered it before, in the remnants of nights and the tendrils of dreams, but never like this...

His hand, the Doctor realised, had moved by itself. It had left the dress and was now coasting her bare skin, always the ghost of a touch and never anything more. Finally, he brought his fingertips to a stop, four speckled around her collarbone and one beginning to drift up her neck.

"I..." he began, but the words – if he had any – stuck in his throat.

"Yeah," Rose said, and there was a breathlessness in her voice he very much wanted to hear more of.

With their gazes locked, the Doctor suddenly felt trapped, in a way he never had before; and he loved it. He had the horrible feeling, however, that he was about to do something very, very stupid.

"I think," he started again, finally adding pressure behind his touches and pushing into Rose's skin, "we need to..."

He trailed off. He couldn't help it. Just looking into her eyes made him go mad, those colours, those pigments sparkling back at him... She was like a craving.

Her tongue darted out, just for a second, to wet her lips. And he couldn't help it, he really couldn't, when his eyes dipped down to her lips, then back again. He would have been a fool to wonder if she'd seen him, she was watching him the whole time.

"Need to what?" she asked huskily, and he could hear her words vibrate below his hand.

He opened his mouth to speak, to reply, but he knew the words wouldn't come because he honestly couldn't even remember what he'd been thinking. All he knew was that if he didn't start kissing her within the next five seconds, a miracle must have happened.

Holding her gaze steadily in his, he dipped his head to meet her mouth –

– Only to have the front door knock before he'd moved enough for Rose to realise what he'd been about to do.

He wasn't sure which was worse: the way Rose jumped and broke his focus on her, or the way he leapt back from her as though she'd bitten him. He stared at Rose, breathing heavily, and she stared back with a look that quite clearly asked him what the hell he was doing. His face softened into confusion and he shook his head, the tiniest movement, hoping she would take his apology.

The knocking at the door persisted and, when Rose turned away from him and looked into the fire rather than at him, the Doctor decided he'd better take it.

He stalked over to the wood, wondering whether – instead of Noxis – they had fallen into some trashy romance novel, because that was certainly what he felt was happening. Just his luck to be at the hands, the literal hands, of an author who could do anything they wanted with him. And oh, weren't they just having a field day with him, this metaphorical being of his own mind. Weren't they just making him squirm.

He opened the door rather more harshly than he meant flinging it back and trying not to glare at whoever stood there. "Yes?" he barked, not feeling in the best of spirits.

Whatever had just happened with Rose... No, he wasn't going to think about that. It would only put him in a worse mood, not to mention confuse him, all these hormonal swings.

"Excuse me, is Rose Tyler with you?"

It was Tur'tai, and he was holding a clipboard and looking very nervous. He also, the Doctor noted with some amusement, was wearing a small pair of glasses that didn't quite fit him.

"Um. Yes, yes she is." He went to call back over his shoulder, but she was already at his side and elbowing him out the way.

"Can I help?" she asked, greeting Tur'tai with a warm gaze – much warmer than she should have, the Doctor thought, considering he interrupted... absolutely nothing, the Doctor told himself resolutely. He just... liked dresses. On Rose. Yes.

Tur'tai gave her a smile, but his tone was official. "You left the restaurant with our garment," he said simply, nodding his head towards the dress. "We will need that back for the future."

Rose flushed a deep – and in the Doctor's opinion, very attractive – red, and turned back to talk to him. "I didn't know I had to give it back," she hissed.

"Neither did I!" the Doctor protested in response, fixing her with a 'you-should-know-better-than-to-rely-on-me-in-these-sorts-of-situations' look.

"Well, what now? All my clothes are over there, and I don't have any others."

Tur'tai cleared his throat meaningfully, and they both turned around to face him again. Seemingly daunted by two sets of eyes looking at him, he glanced down to his clipboard. He then waved a tentacle and, in a puff of smoke, a pile of Rose's clothes appeared on the ground.

Rose blinked down at them, and the Doctor's eyebrows shot to his hairline in mild surprise.

"And there was me thinking you'd have to end up naked," he commented conversationally.

Except... that's not what he meant to say at all, and judging by the awkward air that suddenly sprung up around Rose, it had also been the wrong thing to say.

"Thank you," Rose said, speaking to Tur'Tai again, who seemed to be completely oblivious to what was going on. "I'll... I'll go get changed, then." Crouching down, she scooped up her clothes. She then pushed past the Doctor without looking at him, and disappeared into the bedroom, shutting the door.

"...So!" The Doctor grinned at Tur'tai who, he couldn't be sure, looked as though he was backing away. "What else is there to do on this luxury planet? I know the main things, but... you know, the little extras. Things to keep her happy, and all that." He jerked his head in the direction of the bedroom, before he realised the connotations that could have had.

"Well... that depends," his host replied, seemingly avoiding the topic and shifting from one foot to the other.

"On..." the Doctor prompted.

Tur'tai coughed. "On you. On you both. What you... mean... to each other."

"Ah. Yes, well, Rose and I. Mean a lot to each other, I guess you could say."

"That's not quite my point, Doctor," came the reply, with a knowing smile in the voice.

The Doctor considered him, and felt that slight rise in his heartrates again, as well as a sudden lapse in his temperature control.

"What's going on?" he blurted out before he could stop himself, worry more than anger at the forefront of his mind.

Tur'tai looked at him blankly for a few moments, before replying with a simple, "Excuse me?"

The Doctor, who had had enough of fumbling around the point and wondering when his hormonal system was going to sort itself out, stepped forwards into the lawn and closed the front door, leaving them both in relative privacy.

"Ever since we got here," he continued, rounding on the alien, "I have been feeling increasingly... well, strange!" He flung an arm out in frustration, then began pacing before he could be interrupted. "My heartbeats are irregular, I'm much more affected by heat than I should be, my vision gets cloudy... sometimes I can't even think! So what I'm saying to you, very politely, is tell me what you've done to me. Because this certainly isn't right."

A brief silence fell between them, in which the Doctor stopped pacing long enough to notice two things. First, how stifling, suffocatingly hot this planet became at night, and second, that there was a faint noise – some sort of music – chirping in the background: like crickets, but crickets playing in a classical musical concert, with scores and instruments to boot. It was quite beautiful.

It was not, however, helping his mood.

He concentrated his glare on Tur'tai, panting slightly in the heat. Then, reaching to loosen his tie, he added, "Please. I... I don't know what's happening."

Tur'tai gave a slight bow. "It's perfectly natural, Doctor. It is what's supposed to happen."

"Oh, don't go cryptic on me," the Doctor scoffed, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling that he was beginning to sweat at the back of his neck. "I've had enough of- of 'cryptic'. Thank you."

"I mean it," Tur'tai insisted with a laugh. "Did you not read the brochure before you came here?"

The Doctor froze, staring at him. "...What brochure?"

Giving an exaggerated sigh and adjusting his glasses, his host explained. "This is a luxury resort, Doctor, as I imagine you well know. Some come here with their pets, some come here with their friends, and others..."

He paused for, what the Doctor could only assume was, dramatic effect.

"Others?" he prompted, when there didn't seem to be an end to the sentence.

"Others come here with their lovers," he finished bluntly, and he looked pointedly at the Doctor.

"I- But-... What?" the Doctor spluttered, frowning so much that even his cheeks were in on it. "What?" It was insane. This planet was insane! Especially if they thought... well, that. When they'd first arrived, Rose had been mistaken for his pet, for heaven's sake. Now they were calling her his– "What?"

"It's quite simple – "

"But... But Rose and I, we're not like that. I'm not like that! We don't... It's not... I..."

Sentence after sentence failed him, ideas and revelations and panic cascading now on him like water in a waterfall.

"It's the mechanics of this planet, Doctor," Tur'tai continued, seemingly surprised that the Doctor hadn't grasped on. "There are energies resonating everywhere, beaming down from the stars and the sky and crossing here, at this point, on Noxis. It says all this in the brochure if you'd like to – "

"Just. Tell me," the Doctor said forcibly, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself down. "Tell me what it is, what's happening."

"Well, to put it bluntly, all lovers share feelings for each other, Doctor. All the planet does is bring those feelings and thoughts closer to the surface. It's usually the desired effect... I assume not, on you."

"No," he grated out in response, almost through gritted teeth. "Not on me. I'm..." He threw a look back over his shoulder, almost expecting Rose to be standing in the doorway listening. Turning back to Tur'Tai, he lowered his voice consiprationally. "Rose and I aren't like that. Really, we're not. We're just friends, we're just very good... friends."

Tur'tai shrugged. "The planet seems to disagree with you, Doctor."

"But the planet is wrong!" he persisted.

"It can't be!" Tur'tai laughed loudly. "We have no way of controlling it. It's simply the energy in the air working its way through all the foreign life on this planet, making everything that bit more... pleasant. The sounds are brighter, the colours more lucid; it induces you into a state of happiness. And, often in the case of lovers, a state of lus– "

"Yes, thank you, I don't need the details," the Doctor cut across, glaring at him. "And, please, stop calling us that. We're not that. I don't do that, I can't. I literally can't – Well, actually, literally and physically, yes, I can, just more often than not I say I can't to get out of doing it, and I have absolutely no idea why I just said that." The words had been out of his mouth before he even knew what he'd been saying. A few seconds of silence ticked by, and the Doctor looked pleadingly to his host who, so it seemed, was the only person who could help him. "What's happening to me?" he asked quietly, a defeated tone in his voice.

"It's the effect of the hormones," Tur'tai said with a sympathetic sigh. "Usually, by now, the... partners... would have long given in to the desire and the hormones would be released. It's not advisable to stockpile them in your body; we've never had it happen before."

Frowning, the Doctor asked, "Stockpiled? What do you mean 'stockpiled'?"

"They build up."

"Well, yes, I got that, thank you, but... but what does that mean?"

"With the hormones, Doctor, come the great desire to tell the truth and to admit – well, everything. And the more they're stockpiled and not used up, the greater their potency becomes. Desire will increase, your wish to fight back will diminish, and, with it, your ability to lie. Eventually, I imagine you wont even be in control of yourself at all."

The Doctor stared at him, feeling his face fall. Everything he'd been feeling... He had known there was something wrong with it, but the thought it was all the product of some hormone rather than anything tangible actually made him feel a bit ill. Oh, this planet: rapturous for those who desired the feeling; a nightmare for those who didn't.

"Okay." Right, tackle the problem head on, the practical way. "This feeling – how do I get rid of it?"

"Aside from the obvious," Tur'tai answered, glancing over the cottage, "there is no other way. I told you, Doctor, we aren't in control. It's this planet and its position in the star system that gives it is wonder and its strength. There's nothing you can do."

"But... But can't you turn it off? Or, I don't know, offer protection against it? Anything?"

Tur'tai inclined his head knowledgeably. "Nearly all who come here, Doctor, are after the desired effect. We never need to offer protection."

"Well, perhaps you should change your policies," he all but spat. He then turned on his heel, pressing the base of his hand into the dip of his eye as he tried to think. "Okay. So. Can't stop it. We could leave. Ha!" He turned again, a victorious smile over his face. "We could leave!"

"You signed a contract with us on the day you booked. By law, you are to stay here until your time expires. Which, thanks to the extension you accepted earlier this evening, is another two days."

The Doctor couldn't help feeling that Tur'tai was oddly smug about this. "Tw- two days?" he roared in a hushed whisper, very aware that Rose could appear at any second. He stepped towards the alien, attempting to bring himself under control. "I've barely been here half a day and she's already driving me mad! You can't stop us from leaving."

"We have your ship," Tur'tai reminded seriously. "And the only way you can leave is if both of you agree. On your own terms. I have a feeling Rose may want to stay a little longer."

That was the wrong thing to say. The Doctor stepped within mere inches of Tur'tai, his teeth bared in anger. "Don't try my patience," he hissed, his eyes flashing. "You really do not want to see me when I'm angry."

"Doctor," Tur'tai laughed, stepping back and irritatingly unaffected, "we are not here to cause a war or make arguments. No harm will come to you and you are promised a very pleasurable stay."

"You can say that again," he muttered without meaning to. He then let out an agitated groan, and craned his neck back so he could see the sky, in defeat. "See? You can't let me be around Rose and... and say things like that. It isn't gentlemanly."

"It's in your hands, Doctor. All you have to do is act, and the feelings will lessen. For a while."

"But I can't – "

"We've already had this discussion – "

"But Rose and I, we can't do anything like that!" the Doctor protested hotly. "I... She... She'd never forgive me," he added quietly.

Tur'tai frown at him, curiosity getting the better of him. "You must want to," he said obviously. "The energies only work when the feeling is already there. Otherwise, there's nothing to pick up on, and they move on."

The Doctor considered him, defences falling away. "Well... I... Yes, of course I want to," he sighed, giving up. "At least, part of me does. The rebellious part, the... well, the human part, I guess you could say. It does. I do. But I can't. It wouldn't be right. And it certainly wouldn't be right now, with all this – " He waved his in a haphazard motion around his body " – going on. If we ever... I mean, if Rose and I, if we got to that, it would have to be on our own terms. Not a dodgy cocktail of hormones and experiments, or a rescue, or a possession. It would just be... us." In the moonlight, he gave Tur'tai a quiet look. "That's what I want," he finished in a murmur.

Tur'tai nodded. "I understand. In which case, it's imperative that I tell you this. What you feel as a result from being here – you could always feel it, Doctor. You always have, somewhere. It's mixed up in everything else. We may bring it out into the light, but they're still your feelings. We don't meddle with those, that would be against policy. So whatever you're worried about doing, it will be on your own terms. Trust us."

"Looks like I don't have a choice."

The two men studied each other in the different rays of the moons, and a thought suddenly occurred to the Doctor.

"Hang on," he said, frowning slightly, "why isn't Rose affected by all this? She certainly doesn't seem anywhere near as... well, yes." He coughed down the end of his sentence.

"For some reason, the energies only work on the males of the species," Tur'tai said, with confusion in his own voice. "We have yet to figure out why."

The Doctor almost snorted. "Rose and I aren't even the same species, but I suppose that doesn't make a different."

"No," Tur'tai smiled. "Feelings are feelings, in whatever form they take."

"Thank you, Yoda."

"Yoda?" He looked at the Doctor, questioningly.

"Never mind. I should... I should probably..."

He pointed back towards the door.

His host nodded once again, and the Doctor started back. "Oh, by the way," he added, turning again, "seeing as I'm stuck here for a couple of days, just what is there to do on this planet? Aside from eating. And walking."

Tur'tai chuckled. "I'll visit you tomorrow with a list of your itinerary. Goodnight, Doctor."

"Yes. Same to you."

He pushed the front door and stepped inside the cottage, leaving it ajar slightly for Rose when she came out. Shaking his head, the Doctor went to sit in one of the chairs in the living room. He wasn't sure how he felt about everything going on, about the way he was acting towards Rose, but at least now he had answers – even if they were answers he didn't want to hear.

Okay, so if he didn't 'give in' he could well be a walking wreck by the end of this trip, but that was bearable, wasn't it? Far more bearable than the alternative, of letting himself go, taking Rose into his arms, running his hands over her body, feeling the – No. Not going there.

Turkeys, he thought, think about turkeys. Turkeys were innocuous, fine to think about when avoiding... other thoughts.

The Doctor sighed and sat back into the chair. He couldn't escape the horrible feeling that he was somehow doomed.