He gasped reflexively, body rigid in surprise even though he knew it was coming. She caressed his lips with her tongue, gently sliding it across, teasing the corners, but he didn't seem to understand what she wanted.

"You're not helping here, you know," she whispered.

He closed his eyes. "Sorry. I told you I'm not very experienced."

"Hang experience, Doc: relax."

"I'll try," he said softly, opening his eyes to look into hers. "This... the practice is very different from the theory, isn't it?"

She smiled. "Yes, it is. But you'll be fine. We'll be fine."

"I'm not... I don't really know what to do," he said plaintively. "I haven't done this since my first incarnation..."

He suddenly looked so forlorn, so lost. She smiled again and brought her mouth close to his. "Close your eyes and open your mouth, for starters."

He nodded trustingly, like a child, slowly closing his eyes. This time when she kissed him his lips parted and her tongue slid forward to gently tangle with his. He gasped again, but made no attempt to pull away. He whispered something, a strange musical word that flowed off his tongue and slid into her open mouth like liquid.

"What did you say?" she asked.

"Rain," he whispered in English. "You taste like the spring rains on Gallifrey, Tegan."

"Is that good?" she chuckled.

"Yes."

"Right," she murmured, and kissed him again.

His lips joined with hers in a gentle dance, caressing and teasing in a slow steady tempo that left them both breathless. Tegan felt her world contract, narrow to a point where there was only a long tunnel and he was the light at the end of that darkness. Insanely, she thought of the lyrics of an Earth song and breathed some of them aloud, so quietly he barely heard her speak, and couldn't make out what she'd said.

"Your turn," he whispered.

"It's silly."

"Tell me anyway."

"We need to get a shower."

"We'll compromise. Tell me while we take our shower." He proceeded to quickly remove her clothes, then his, then backed her up and into the stall, slipping in behind her and turning on the water.

As the steamy streams washed over him the Doctor felt some of his nervousness dissipate. Emboldened by the kisses, he took the cloth from Tegan's hands, smiling down into her questioning eyes.

"If you don't mind?" he asked.

His voice was so matter-of-fact she wanted to laugh. He looked so earnest, rivets of water sliding down his pale shoulders onto hers, wringing the washcloth in his hands as though it were a security blanket. It wouldn't do for her to laugh, not right now, not when he so obviously had plucked up his courage to take some initiative. Instead she smiled and said: "I don't mind."

He nodded, reached for the soap, and for the first time in his lives looked at Tegan, really fully looked at her, not just with the eyes of friendship but also with a trepid gaze of the desire that he was struggling to assimilate and accept.

He'd always thought she was lovely: in the same way that he found stained glass and lotus flowers lovely. There were no levels of distinction for him, no differentiations. If there was beauty, there was beauty. Words that human males might have used, descriptions like "hot" or "raver" wouldn't enter his mind, because when he looked at Tegan, he saw something other than lustrous curls, nubile breasts, shapely hips, though she certainly possessed those qualities.

He saw a Tegan who'd stood by his side through war and devastation. A woman whose brash words and fiery temper had both annoyed and delighted him in equal measure. A friend who'd helped him mourn the death of a friend and companion without blaming him for that death. And a kindred spirit whose body had been tattooed with bruises, damage that he still felt responsible for, who still looked at him with nothing but faith and devotion in her dark eyes. This was the measure of her, Tegan Jovanka: brighter than the sun, higher than the sky, deeper than any ocean could ever be. She had been the voice of his conscience, his fervor, his hopes and dreams, the half that made him whole.

The sudden staggering realization of these things made him reel: the understanding borne of their anger, pain, and helplessness, the unexpected tenderness and longing that had been brought to life in him, yearning for expression and release. He felt tears form in his eyes, he wanted to weep, to gather her to him and whisper words to her that did not yet exist, to give her things that he had not found or bought yet, to keep this shining jewel of a human being near him always. And the hunger, the physical ache for her that had once been nonexistent, then subliminal, then controllable was now insatiable, no longer struggling against his ignorance and biology and culture but rising to claim its rightful place, to rule him with utter sovereignty. He was no longer afraid to serve it: the question was, would he be able to be a loyal, dedicated subject?

He looked down to see his hands trembling against her breasts as he soaped them, being gentle with her dark pink nipples, the soft globes filling his palms. With a visible effort he stilled the shaking, moved them down to the flat plane of her stomach. "You were going to tell me what you said," he reminded her in an unsteady voice.

She grinned. "I was, was I?"

"Yes. Quid pro quo, you know."

"Using Latin on me, are you my fine fellow?" she smirked. "I know what that means, and I'll hold you to it later in a very different way, Doctor!"

"I've no doubt of that," he assured her. "Now, go on."

She sighed, realizing he wasn't going to let her off the hook. "It's from a song by a band called Underworld," she said. "The song is called 'Two Months Off,' it was one of their biggest hits."

"And the words?"

Another sigh.

"Tegan, I told you what I said," he reminded her gently as he knelt before her to wash her legs and feet. "It's not like you to be shy."

"I'm not being shy!" she said. "I just... I'm afraid you'll think it foolish."

"And you suddenly care about what I think?" he asked, somehow managing to keep a straight face.

"Ohh, all right!" she growled. But she was smiling. He had finished, and she grabbed the washcloth from him as he rose, her gaze sliding of its own accord down his bare chest to the light brown thatch of hair between his legs. Oh, my... she thought.

He cleared his throat loudly, and her eyes jerked up to see him grinning at her. "Admiring the view?" he asked in a polite voice.

She blushed again; she couldn't help it, silently vowing to find a way to make him squirm later. Pretending not to have heard him, she quickly set to her task of washing him. He didn't press, just closed his eyes and absorbed the foreign but not unpleasant sensation of being touched. When she'd finished with the front she turned him around to do his backside, and as she cleansed the satiny skin she began to sing to him in a soft voice.

"You bring light in...

To a dark place

Walking in light

Glowing walking in light

Gold ring around you

The heat of you

The golden sunlight of you..."

She paused in her singing, waiting, washing.

"And the rest?" he asked.

Encouraged by this response, she continued:

"Cool wind following

Following after you

Rising for you

Your skin beautiful

Everything comes natural

Fantastic fan

Rocking rocking floating..."

When she was finished she'd finished bathing him as well, and she turned off the water and grabbed a towel. He caught her hand in his, and she was startled by the fierceness of his grip through the cloth, the warmth she felt where usually he was so cool.

"Why did you say you were afraid I'd think that foolish?" he asked gently.

She shrugged. "I didn't figure you'd go in for that sort of thing," she replied.

"Didn't you," he answered slowly, reflectively. "Yes, I suppose I can understand that."

She handed him a towel as she stepped out, expecting him to start drying off with it. She was surprised to feel him drying her off instead. She made a soft sound of contentment, reciprocating when he'd finished, watching the expressions that crossed his face as her small, strong hands went to work.

When she was done she tossed both their towels away and looked up at him, hands on her hips. "And?"

He leaned down and kissed her, quickly but thoroughly, breath caressing her face.

"I liked it."

"Really?" she asked, surprise and delight evident on her features.

"Yes." He pulled her closer to him, resting his mouth at her ear. "Now... why don't we find out what else I can surprise you with?"