The Doctor

The Doctor strides into the spa dressing room, snatches at the first pair of trunks he puts his hands on — navy blue with a vibrant blue stripe down each side — and shimmies out of his clothing. He quickly dons the trunks and leaves, never noticing the other pile of clothes beneath the bench.

He grabs a towel from the rack outside the entrance, still in an ill humor, slings it over his shoulder and makes his way into the spa room.

And stops short in the doorway, transfixed by the sight of Tegan lounging in the sunken pool of bubbling water, head and arms resting on the edge.

Topless.

He forces his eyes to shift away from her magnificent, half-submerged bosom, taking in the previously unnoted detail of her discarded, still-damp top lying on the floor just past the outstretched fingers of her left hand.

He should leave. He should just back out of the room, grab his clothes and leave. But he can't. His feet feel as if they have rooted themselves to the TARDIS floor, all smooth tiling here in the spa room. At the very least he should turn his eyes away, but he can't do that, either. They've crept back to take in the sight of Tegan's lovely, half-naked form, the expression of content on her face, the relaxed pose of her arms.

Why, if she wants to bathe topless, hasn't she bothered to lock the door? Anyone can walk in, as he has done. What if it had been Turlough…

No, not Turlough. Turlough avoids the spa room, can't stand the idea of soaking in a pool of bubbling water meant for the use of multiple people, finds it disgusting and has said so on more than one occasion.

So Tegan knows herself safe from Turlough's accidental incursion. But why doesn't she concern herself about him? She knows he occasionally uses the spa when he wants to relax, when they've had a particularly vigorous series of runs up and down alien corridors or when he's been fiddling the console and his back protests lying on the floor for hours on end.

He's done neither of these things today, a day spent inside the TARDIS doing research in his private library. Researching…something. Something that currently escapes him. So perhaps she just assumes she will be left in peace.

He needs to leave. Her chest heaves with a satisfied sigh, and his mouth goes dry and suddenly his bathing costume is uncomfortably tight in the groin area and he realizes, finally, exactly why Tegan makes him so crazy.

She chooses that moment to open her eyes and discover him standing there, towel in hand, staring at her.

She makes an abortive movement with her hands, as if instinct causes her to try to cover herself, but slowly returns her arms to their previous relaxed pose. Her eyes, however, are wary and watchful, glittering with another emotion he doesn't allow himself to recognize at first.

Hunger.

She doesn't scream at him to get out. She doesn't sink under the water or turn red with embarrassment. She simply looks at him, although the welter of emotions in her eyes as they meet his is far from simple.

Her teeth nibble at her lower lip, and then she seems to come to a decision as she moves those lips into an inviting smile.

Then she deliberately lowers her eyes, studying him from head to toes, lingering on his mid-section – no, be honest, on the section right below that – and her smile grows and turns approving.

When she speaks, her voice is husky and inviting with just the slightest hint of uncertainty. "Join me?"

He shouldn't. He knows he shouldn't. He's finally realized everything he's been repressing and denying to himself, the reaction he's had to her from the very beginning of this regeneration, and he knows it's a bad idea for more reasons than he can possibly list. He is responsible for her. Their contentious friendship could be ruined. He is a Time Lord and supposed to be above such base considerations as sex.

But his hand reaches back to shove the door closed behind him and his feet have become unstuck and are marching themselves over to the spa. His legs are carrying him down the shallow steps opposite Tegan's still-smiling form, and his eyes are now glued to her lips. They are full and red and quite luscious and obviously in dire need of a kiss to discipline them back into being just another feature of her face.

He obliges them, seating himself next to Tegan and slanting his mouth against hers. Her mouth opens beneath his, inviting further exploration, and his tongue joins the rebellion of body against mind and slips in to tangle with hers as the kiss deepens.

It is an incredible feeling, not just the kiss but the way her bare chest is pressed against his, skin meeting skin, so sensuous and inviting he can't believe he's spent so much time ignoring the signals his frustrated body has been trying to send to his brain.

When Tegan reaches down and brushes her fingertips across the fabric stretched and distorted by the shape of his erection, he groans against her lips and pulls his face away from hers, embarrassed by his reaction.

But he moves no further than that and does nothing to stop her tentative exploration.

His hands lie passive by his side, although he feels a growing urge to touch her as she is touching him. But it has been many, many years – decades, centuries – since he has done anything like this, anything carnal, and he is surprisingly nervous at the thought of doing something wrong, of making Tegan uncomfortable or scaring her off and so finds himself frozen into immobility.

The increasing boldness of her movements thaws the ice. The warmth of her touch is evident even through the heated caress of the water against his body, the way her fingers stroke his thickening hardness from base to top and back again…

With another groan he leans forward and begins pressing feverish kisses to her neck, tongue dipping into the intriguing hollows he finds at the junction of throat and body. His hands reach up to grasp her arms and pull her to him with more roughness than he intends, but she merely moans and slides her own arms around his shoulders, pressing him closer before tugging his face up to meet hers for another encounter with those wicked lips and that talented tongue of hers.

One hand buries itself in her hair, the other sliding down her back to rest against the curve of her buttocks. She is still wearing the bottom half of the bikini, but he knows it won't be long before they will both be naked. The image of her astride his lap, his heated shaft pressing into her hot, wet center flashes across his mind so clearly it's as if he can actually see it happening.

The kiss ends only when they mutually pull away from lack of breath, and he rests his forehead against hers, panting. She turns her head to nibble delicately at his earlobe; he hisses in pleasure and suddenly the urge to make his vision a reality is impossible to ignore.

He's been a fool, denying them what they both want, and now that he's decided to do this he will brook no further delays.

Tegan

Tegan can hardly believe her eyes when she opens them to see the Doctor standing in the doorway, a towel in one hand, body frozen, eyes wide with either shock or, fingers crossed, desire.

She is not sure which interpretation to put on it. Her first instinct is that he is embarrassed by her display and so she starts to cover herself, but then she flicks her gaze downward and her own eyes widen as she realizes that his loose bathing trunks aren't quite loose enough to cover up his physical reaction to the sight of her naked breasts and, let's face it, inviting posture.

She sinks back, deliberately spreading her arms again so he can get a good, long look while she permits herself the same – a head to toe perusal that ends up focused on the spot where her first peek had initially settled.

She asks him to join her, unsure of his response even though it is quite clear that this time his body appears to be in control. If his intellect wakes up and takes over again, this will end as abruptly as it seems to be starting; if he reins in his hormones or whatever pass for hormones in a Time Lord, she doubts he will ever allow them to take control again.

Especially not around her.

So she waits, breath held, heart pounding in anticipation, barely able to control her pleased surprise when he starts moving – directly toward her. She watches as he steps into the spa and seats himself next to her and then, oh! He is kissing her, allowing the kiss to deepen and if he's never done this before then he is naturally talented and should seriously consider taking up snogging as a career path.

Their chests are mashed together, her nipples hardened and pebbled from the contact, and she can't help herself. She reaches down and brushes her fingers against the Doctor's cock – ohmygod, a part of her mind gabbles; the Doctor really does have a cock and it's hard and getting harder and all because of you – loving the sound he makes as he groans against her mouth.

She does not, however, love the way he instantly pulls back, looking somewhat embarrassed. She hopes it is because of his own reaction and not because he wants her to stop – no, he makes no other move, doesn't haul himself up out of the hot, bubbling water, just sits there, looking at her, letting her continue to touch him, to stroke him through the silky fabric of his trunks.

She grasps his erection more firmly and he lets out another groan, leaning forward to press his lips and tongue to her throat and collarbone. Then they are kissing again and their bodies are entwined and she never wants this moment to end, never, ever, ever.

It does, of course, but only to allow another moment to happen, the moment when she nips her teeth into his earlobe and he lets out a hiss of breath and the hands that have been roving her body suddenly become far more businesslike, brusque, almost.

He is hooking his fingers into the edge of her bikini bottom, tugging it impatiently down over her bum and thighs until suddenly it is gone and she is completely naked.

His mouth fastens on her neck again, sucking and licking, nipping lightly with those perfect white teeth, and she puts her hands to work, pulling at the waistband of his trunks, stripping him as he has stripped her.

He shifts his bum, lifting it off the low bench that circles the spa to make it easier for her to pull the trunks down to his thighs and from there over his knees and around his ankles. He kicks them off and tosses them up onto the floor when they float back up to the water's surface.

By then his lips have found their way to her breasts. She squirms under his touch, a moan escaping her own lips as she starts to push herself up onto her knees so he won't have to worry about swallowing any of the chlorinated water.

She squeals in surprise as he suddenly yanks her onto his lap so she is straddling him, the tip of his erection pressing up against her belly, the length of it nestled against her center. He uses his hands to slide her up and down in a highly suggestive manner while his lips busy themselves with her breasts, sucking eagerly at each nipple in turn.

They pebble and harden even more as delighted groans and squeaks of pleasure force themselves out of her mouth. She steadies herself with one hand on his shoulder, the other reaching down between them to stroke his cock. It needs no further encouragement, but her mother taught her to seize the day – although Tegan doubts this is how she meant that lesson to be applied.

Then again, judging by the frequency with which her parents took "naps" together after shooing Tegan and her brothers out of the house to "get some fresh air", perhaps she would approve.

Blushing slightly at the direction her thoughts have wandered (who thinks about their parents at a time like this?), she wiggles her hips and is rewarded by another moan from the Doctor, shivering against the nipple he is currently exploring with his clever tongue.

The thought of what else he might be willing to do with that tongue nearly pulls the breath from her lungs.

Before she can even try to work out a way to suggest such a thing, his hands have lifted her up again, but not just to tease her by rubbing her against his straining cock. No, this time he means business.

She is about to protest that he's rushing things when she sees the glazed look in his eyes, the fierce sweat breaking out on his forehead, the flush in his cheeks, and decides to save her thought for another time.

Because as sure as there are rabbits in Australia, there is going to be another time.

For now, she will let him have his way.

Not that she objects. Oh, no, by no means could she be said to object. A shiver passes over her frame as she feels the tip of his cock pressing against her opening, and she squirms in his hold, gasping with pleasure as he slams himself up inside her, hips thrusting with aggressive movements she is eager to match.

She rides him hard, feeling the pleasure mount with every thrust of his hips, hands digging into his shoulders as he buries his face in the juncture of neck and collarbone, lips and teeth doing their level best to help drive her over the edge of the precipice she is rapidly approaching.

Then he does the unthinkable: his hands, which have been grasping her hips as hard as hers have his shoulders, tighten further, forcing her to stop, holding her in place while he pulls his face back in order to meet her startled, frustrated eyes.

"What?" she manages to gasp out. "What's wrong? Why did you stop?"

A/N: Yeah, I'm mean. But there's one more part to this story and I promise, the Doctor will have what he consider a very good reason to stop where he did. As to whether or not Tegan agrees, well...time will tell. :)