A/N Rose continues to push, and the Doctor continues to fall. This is the slightly toned-down T-rated version of the chapter. The unedited Adult version is posted on Teaspoon, the link to which can be found on my profile page.


Chapter 6

The Doctor had just changed out of his pinstriped suit and into the pair of swim trunks that he'd absently chosen from the available options. Blue. Brown was still his standard staple, but he had lately found himself gravitating toward the other color as well. Maybe because it matched his mood. Or maybe because it matched the TARDIS – the only thing he truly had left. But regardless of how appropriate the color might be, the Doctor wasn't entirely comfortable in it at present. The discomfort wasn't due to the shade but the garment itself – what little there was of it.

As a rule, Time Lords did not have a penchant for showing skin, traditionally draped as they were from head to foot in heavy, concealing robes. He'd always been on the fringe when it came to the conventions of his people, but not in this particular case. The Doctor was much more comfortable with at least a few protective layers between himself and the universe at large. Rose had become the only one he shed his armor for. But he supposed that was still the case even in this situation. She wanted to swim and, by Rassilon, he was going to give her this one thing, even though it meant venturing outside of his wardrobe comfort zone.

Once properly, if not scantily, attired, the Doctor emerged from the changing hut. He noted that Jaise and Kalissa had already changed and were in the water nearby, playfully challenging each other to a round of endurance laps. The two seemed completely absorbed in each other. He wondered what it would feel like to experience such a carefree existence. He wondered if he had ever truly known.

The Doctor was starting to spiral into grim thoughts again, but then Rose stepped outside and came into view, effectively silencing all other thoughts in his head save one.

She was naked.

Well, very nearly. Not that he was able to form a single complaint about the spectacular view, but it was not a view to be admired by anyone else. In an instant, he became acutely aware of the entire number of males in the immediate vicinity. Far too many.

He was compelled to cast his eyes about and ensure that no one else was ogling the alluring display Rose presented. But instinctive compulsion won out, and he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from her exposed body which commanded attention. Commanded anyone and everyone's attention. Fierce possessiveness swamped through him.

Had she lost her mind?! Or was she trying to make him lose his? The Doctor strode quickly over to Rose, hearts thudding.

"Rose!" he hissed, taking her by the shoulders and rapidly looking for somewhere to duck her out of sight. Quickly, he maneuvered them behind a nearby tall, purple-leafed ornamental shrub. His jaw was so tight he could hardly work it to speak. "What in the name of Time are you doing?!"

Rose shrugged out of his grasp. She was attempting to appear nonchalant but he could tell she was heartily blushing, the pink stain creeping down her neck and across her… No! He had to focus.

"'M goin' for a swim. That's what we're here for, isn't it?"

"You're naked!" he hotly protested, voice hushed lest he draw more attention.

She met his thunderous eyes with a cheeky smirk. "Well…not entirely. I've still got half a bikini on. Now this would be naked…" Her fingers moved to her hips, toying with the top edge of the red bikini bottoms as if she might remove those as well.

He quickly snatched up both her wrists in his grasp. "Rose, what has gotten in to you?"

All pretense of games slipped from her face. Her eyes sobered as she gazed back at him. "I thought maybe this would…get your attention. You've become more distant since we left Barcelona. This trip was your idea. But now… 's like you can hardly even focus on it. So I thought maybe I should take your mind off whatever's bothering you. And…well…gotta admit, this seems to be working."

He dropped her hands and his own moved up to grip her shoulders, trembling fingers digging into her soft flesh. She thought he was seizing her out of anger, he could tell. She let out a breath of surprise when he pulled her forward and crushed her to him in an embrace that never wanted to end. He buried his face in the warm crook of her neck, words muffled but impassioned.

"Oh, Rose. Rose, Rose. You always have my attention…my every thought…my entire being consumed until there's little else left." He pulled back enough to look into her eyes, and he knew his own must look a little wild. "I can't breathe without thinking of you." His eyes swept down her body again, because he couldn't not look. She was human perfection. And she had once been his. He swallowed painfully. "You have too much of my attention. You…you drive me insane. You really have no idea. No idea at all…"

Her eyes were wide, vulnerable, aroused. "Oh, I think I do. And I'm glad it's mutual. S'pose maybe we're both a little crazy," she uttered, a breathless laugh escaping her. Rose pressed forward, bare chest tantalizingly grazing his as she spoke across his lips. "So…how 'bout that swim? Seeing as how we're dressed for the part, an' all…"

He laughed incredulously, voice raspy. "Dressed?" The Doctor leaned back, half dazed, and licked his lips. "This is not dressed. Rose, you're…"

"Topless?" she supplied innocently. As innocent as one could be in said condition. Rose lifted her hand and drew a single finger from the base of her neck down the center of her sternum, her nude skin glowing in the flickering light of nearby torches. The Doctor felt his entire body burn in response. He wondered if a Time Lord had ever spontaneously regenerated under such conditions. "But this is a clothing-optional planet, remember? When in Rome, and all that…"

She gave him a sinful half grin and turned back toward the pool area, stepping out from behind the cover of the shrubbery.

He quickly strode up beside her and took her arm, turning her back to him and away from peering eyes. "But everyone can see!" he whispered hoarsely. "Everyone might look!"

"Everyone being men?" she questioned with a quirk of her wicked lips. "You really are a prude, aren't you?" she remarked, repeating the title she'd once given him another time he'd shown hesitation to strip down and swim.

"Right. Yes. Fine. I am," he swiftly agreed. Anything to stop this madness which was sure to be the death of him, on top of everything else. "Prude, that's me. Ancient and set in my ways. So you'll just have to humor me, I'm afraid."

"Or…," Rose suggested, angling around him and pressing her back to his front as she took his hands and slid them up her ribcage, "…maybe you'll just have to cover me." She fit his cupped hands over her to do just that.

He drew a quaking breath as his fingers reflexively squeezed. She arched into his touch and moaned, then swiftly turned in his arms and latched onto his mouth with yearning lips.

The kiss was ravenous, and nothing about this situation was fit for such open display. Rose seemed to agree, at least to a point, walking them to the pool's edge and the semi-privacy that submersion in water would afford.

Without breaking from his embrace, she leveraged her body and toppled them over the edge and into the water with a combined splash.

They surfaced together, Rose swallowing down a gulp of water and taking in a lungful of air. She barely had time to inhale before he was on her again. He needed her and was spiraling past the point of being able to stop. This wasn't just lust or arousal. It went far beyond that. This was desperation.

The Doctor shut out everything in his mind other than this, right here, right now. The succulent taste of Rose's wet lips, the silken glide of her tongue, the electric press of her soft warm body into his – he didn't allow a single element to escape his awareness, capturing and immortalizing each one in sacred memory. He was lost to every detail. Her burning tongue gliding over the roof of his mouth, the light caress to this sensitive zone sending tremors through his body; her wet hands down his bare back, nails dragging across damp flesh, the tracks of fire setting him ablaze; the sounds she made deep in her throat, soft sighs and low moans which his own voice emulated – he savored it all and hungered for more.

It was a marvel that he was even distantly aware of swimmers drawing near. Rose seemed to notice, pulling back a trace and looking in that direction, flushed. He shot his eyes over the same path to see Jaise and Kalissa who had just ended their laps. Jaise was looking their way, smirking. If possible, the Doctor drew Rose more tightly against him to protect her modesty. His breath hitched in the process, and the look Rose gave him was positively criminal as she pressed her body into his more firmly.

"Remember, your suite is number ninety-seven," Jaise helpfully reminded them, the sound of his voice whipping both their heads back in that direction. "Just thought I'd mention it in case you need to recall that information soon." The other two then swam away, suppressing a snicker.

Rose looked back to the Doctor, eyes shimmering and glazed, water droplets sluicing down her skin. She made his indrawn breath catch in his throat. "We probably should take this someplace a little more…private. Don't you think?"

The Doctor's internal conflict was agonizing. How could he possibly let this go any further without his dark, inner secrets being revealed? Yet how could he possibly just end it here?

"Rose Marion Tyler," he groaned into the skin of her neck as his head dropped forward. "You're going to be the death of me, you realize."

"Oh, I had something much more pleasant in mind," she intoned seductively.

He shook his head ruefully, though couldn't prevent a wan smile from forming. "What am I going to do with you?"

She moved her face to the side of his, and blew across his ear before whispering in it. "You're such a clever, clever man. I'm sure you'll think of one or two very brilliant ideas."

There was no taming Rose on a night like this. Barcelona was still hot in her blood, the Rajaran wine buzzing through her system, and arousal igniting every particle of her being.

Maintaining his secure hold of her, the Doctor strode to the water's edge, climbed up the nearest steps and carried her toward the changing hut where he'd left his suit. They passed a man, human, cutting his eyes over, no doubt trying to get a better view of Rose. The Doctor shot him a warning look, pulling her closer.

She hummed, wrapping her wet limbs more tightly around him. "Don't think you've ever carried me before. Some might think you're becoming…romantic," she purred into his shoulder.

"Never had to hide your naked body from public display before," he replied back, voice low. "Some might think you're becoming licentious."

He felt her lips form a smile against his skin. "If I am it's your fault."

He answered with a noise that was startlingly similar to a primitive growl. The Doctor focused his eyes ahead, reminding his brain where he was headed. Her heated chest brushed his own with each step he took, dragging up and gliding down, over and over. This was getting unbearable. Thank Rassilon they were nearly there.

He reached the hut, stepped into the private cubicle and sat Rose on her feet. She slid down his body on the way to the ground, making sure to contact as much of him as possible in the process. She then started to turn away. He caught her with a hand on her hip, turning her back.

He arched a brow. "Going somewhere?"

She nearly killed him with her sensual pose as she lifted her arms over her head to run her fingers through her wet hair, giving it a slow shake. "Well, someone told me I was underdressed. So I best go back and get my frock. You remember. The little shimmery red number?"

He shook his head, voice commanding. "No."

She raised a questioning brow.

Having already retrieved his own clothes, the Doctor shucked his trunks and stepped into his trousers, forgoing underpants in exchange for speed. He noted how her eyes dropped to boldly take in the sight of her impressive effect on him before he gingerly zipped up. He pulled on his trainers, only half laced. Straightening up, he then took his white Oxford and, rather than put it on, slipped it around her shoulders instead, encouraging her to thread her arms through.

"The TARDIS can replicate the dress a dozen times over if you'd like. This will do for now."

He buttoned the shirt, finally covering her bare torso but unable to stop his fingers from grazing her flesh with each progression to the next button.

"Not even letting me go back for my dress, eh? Someone's in a hurry," she commented with a saucy grin.

Without another word, he grabbed his jacket and bunched it under his left arm, took Rose's hand with his right and led her swiftly from the hut and away from the pool.

This was when he should have made straight for the TARDIS. Enough was enough and this had to end. He knew that. Knowing it, however, didn't change the fact that he chose the lighted path which led toward the guest village instead. A frightening question arose in his mind. If he couldn't turn back now, could he ever?

-:-:-:-

Within Barcelona's Defense Headquarters, the news the Doctor had received churned in his mind like the whirling of a storm.

'I was told that she had already left the banquet – with you.'

The Doctor forced his mind off the alarming possibilities and roused himself to action.

"I've got to go find her," he stated brusquely, already propelling himself away.

The assistant engineer stood and followed after him, voice concerned. "Is everything alright? Do you need some help?"

The Doctor stopped long enough to turn back and reply. He wasn't yet certain what he was dealing with. Not entirely. So he was unsure as to what sort of help he might even need. It was very possible, however, that this situation was beyond that of outside assistance. "No. Not just yet. But if Rose turns up here just…have her wait for me."

"Of course."

The Doctor was moving again, heading straight for the nearest exit.

Once outside, he took in several long, deep breaths of the warm night air in an attempt to clear his mind. It was becoming difficult to even focus due to the growing temporal distortions surrounding him. Gathering as much concentration as possible, he first focused on his link with Rose.

It was still intact, but Rose was either too far to transmit through their bond or the temporal fluctuations were hampering his efforts. The Doctor's Time Sense was becoming overloaded. Flowing streams of Time were turning to tempestuous whirlpools around him – within him. He was trying not to let his already-troubled mind be carried away by the report he had received until he knew for certain what was really happening here.

Whatever was responsible for all this, he had to stop it, and soon. Maybe his personal priorities were clouding his judgment, but everything within him said that finding Rose was the key to putting all this right.

There was only one way to proceed from here. He had to get to the TARDIS. Immediately.

The Doctor reached the dark stone street, nearly empty this time of night, and broke into a sprint as he set a determined path toward the direction of his ship, his respiratory bypass and long, agile legs aiding his swift trek. He reduced his pace as he neared the darkened alley a few blocks away where the TARDIS had been left.

The Doctor's steps slowed to a stop as he rounded the corner to reach his ship, only to find it was not there. He quickly surveyed the surrounding area, trying to determine if this was the right place. Alleys, after all, tended to look similar. But he was not one to absently forget where he had left her. This was the correct place. He knew that. But there was no TARDIS.

The Doctor concentrated on trying to feel his ship, but just like when trying to focus on his link to Rose, his senses were in a state of disarray. But this was not the only reason he was unable to sense them, he realized with sickening certainty. Neither his bond mate nor his ship was here. They were no longer on this planet.

A feeling of dreadful panic swelled up within him; not because he was uncertain as to what might have become of them, but because every shred of evidence was pointing to the answer. The disturbance in Time wasn't affecting him secondarily. It was affecting him specifically.

The Doctor stared at the empty place where the TARDIS should have been, a sense of horror overtaking him. Defeating this would likely mean taking on his greatest adversary of all.

"What have I done?"

-:-:-:-

Rose moved with the Doctor quickly and determinedly through the guest village, dotted with smooth white stone cottages. They reached their designated private suite, ascended the two stone steps up to the front portico and stepped inside.

Hints of light from the glowing city seeped through the tall glass windows throughout the small open space. It was nearly an exact replica of the suite where they had lodged on their first visit here, but with subtle changes in the color scheme. Instead of a burgundy and cream colored palate throughout, blues and golds swathed the sumptuous lounges and plush rug in the front sitting room, the rich hues continuing on into the bedroom.

Neither, however, were paying attention to the surrounding décor.

Rose turned to face the Doctor and took him by both hands. She tugged him forward as she walked backwards, remembering the general route to the bedroom and finding it with ease, her eyes never leaving his. He followed without protest, neither stopping until they were within the dimly-lit room.

His eyes absorbed the sight of Rose – hair damp, face flushed, and body provocatively draped in his clothing, the red bikini bottoms peeking through beneath the white cloth that barely covered her hips. She was extraordinary. He had never craved baser physical desires until her. He had never known that such desires could be the exact opposite of primitive and tawdry. For many it was nothing more than animalistic lust, yes. But not for them. It was much weightier. Much more dangerous. It held him captive and exposed his soul.

This was the cause of his current impasse; why tonight could go no further.

But then Rose was in his arms again, soft and exquisite and burning him every place her lips touched – his jaw, neck, shoulders, chest – she was the spark and he was the dry kindling, going up in flames. He wanted her to scorch more of him. All of him – to burn away his pain and guilt and despair until there was nothing left but this, her, them.

His fingers craved her skin, yet it was a battle of inner conflict. The more he allowed the less control he would have. That was always his quandary. His weakness.

Rose sensed his hesitation as his hands drifted toward the buttons of the shirt she wore, fingers restlessly tripping along the fabric. She thought he was toying with her. She played him right back.

"Someone didn't think I should be…exposed. So I s'pose we best just leave this on, don't you think?" she teased luridly, one finger swirling around a middle button.

He knew he shouldn't encourage this further, but it was as if he couldn't stop. It was like a sickness. Maybe Rose wasn't the only one who was a little bit intoxicated tonight.

"Never said I had a problem with your exposure. Just so long as I'm the only one enjoying it."

Rose moved back, eyes taunting. Her tongue slipped between her teeth as her lips curved upward. "My dear Time Lord, are you tellin' me you're possessive?"

He drew a step closer. Rassilon, she was going to be the end of him. "My dear human, are you telling me you're surprised?"

Wicked grin still in place, she moved away and made a show of examining the room, drawing the long drapes closed across the windows as she did so.

"Well, there doesn't seem to be anyone else here now," she assessed, coming back to stand before him, the top button of the shirt now freed. "Think we might be alone." Another button was undone, revealing a hint of cleavage.

His eyes followed the movement of her hands. "So it seems."

"And I really should return this shirt, seein' as how it's yours." A few more buttons came loose, the white Oxford now undone down to her navel.

"Didn't quite fit you anyway," he added, knowing full well he was playing with fire. "It was a bit tight…across the chest."

She lifted a sculpted brow. "You callin' me fat?" There was a gleam in her eye as she liberated the last button from its hole.

He shook his head. "I'm calling you generously proportioned in all the right places and the distinct opposite of the male form."

The shirt now hung open, but was still drawn somewhat together. "Is that so?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "If memory serves me."

Rose finally peeled back the shirt, slipping it from her body and dropping it to the floor behind her. She stood before him, bold and exposed. "So how's that memory of yours?"

His eyes freely roamed her flesh. "Faultless."

In a swift move, she was against him again, the press of lips and chests and bellies and thighs.

And hands.

Hands on temples.

His temples.

She had been about to delve into his mind, to intensify their connection. And he had been about to allow it.

What was he doing?

Well, that was clear enough. But it simply couldn't continue. He groaned, and reached up to remove her hands from his face.

Rose pulled back, dazed, with a questioning expression. She knew he highly enjoyed being touched there; knew it stimulated him almost as much as a certain other region. So why, she clearly wondered, was he stopping her?

He cradled her hands to his chest as he leaned in and kissed her with aching tenderness. His words that followed burned like bile on their way up his throat.

"We have plenty of time," he whispered against the corner of her lips. "No need to rush."

She rocked into him in the way she knew was sure to drive him mad. "Some things can't wait," Rose countered.

He leaned in to kiss her again, murmuring into her mouth. "You're right…"

Uttering an inward apology, his hand moved up to her own temple in a mirror of her earlier touch. He placed his fingers there, nudging into her mind and ushering her into a state of sleep.

Rose fell boneless into his arms. He caught her and lifted her up, carried her a few paces toward the bed and placed her gently down.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, the broken words echoing into the darkened room.