A few minutes later, Rose was seriously questioning their location.
He was on top of her, both of them still fully clothed, and Rose's back was starting to hurt from the hard surface of the grating. And if they continued to pursue their…activities…here, then she would be left with some interesting imprints should he get her completely naked.
Taking the opportunity to talk to him when he released her mouth to latch onto her neck, she caught her breath and murmured, "Um, Doctor?"
"Mmm?" he grunted, moving his lips against the skin of her throat. She bit her lip as her eyes fluttered closed. He knew just how to nibble in that spot to render her thoughts a muddle. He chuckled when she didn't respond further than a moan, and lifted his head. "What's up?"
"Oh," she realised, her thought process resuming, "I was just gonna say, this isn't exactly the comfiest place to shag."
"But so romantic," he grinned, rolling off her and gesturing to the still-open doors of the TARDIS. True, having sex in front of such a lovely nebula was pretty much the height of romance for an arguably relationship-resistant Time Lord, and she hated to spoil it for him, but she really was very uncomfortable.
"Yeah, but…"
"Stay right here," he said quickly, leaning over to press a quick kiss to her lips before scrambling to his feet. "Don't move a muscle. Just stay right there. I have an idea."
Rose rolled her eyes. "Doctor - "
But he dashed out of the console room, ignoring her protests. Several minutes later, he returned.
With blankets. And cushions. Cushions!
Rose couldn't help but laugh.
"Hey," he frowned. "That wasn't exactly the reaction I was hoping for." He dropped his acquisitions to the floor and started arranging them to give maximum comfort to whoever would be on the bottom during the event.
"Sorry, sorry," she giggled. "It's just…well, isn't this all a bit less like spontaneous and more like premeditated? Kinda goes against our 'twice is an oversight' thing, eh?"
"Oi, I was all ready to do it then and there; you were the one who wanted comfort over convenience this time."
"Only 'cos more than likely it would me paying for it in the morning."
He grinned, then, suddenly and salaciously. "I would never make you pay for it."
She shoved his shoulder and shifted over, settling atop his makeshift bed to test it out. "Hmm, not bad," she commented, wriggling a little. "Softens the grating a bit, anyway, and at least I won't be left with imprints on my back."
He leant closer to her and pressed his mouth to her jaw, then the corner of her mouth, and then her nose. "Actually, Rose Tyler, I was thinking that maybe…" He situated his hands beneath her waist and succeeded in lifting her as he rolled onto his back, so that she was the one above him.
"Oh," she mumbled, her blush rising up her neck to her cheeks.
He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, delighted with the picture she already made, straddling his lap with a nebula behind her, lighting up the room. And she wasn't even naked yet. His hands went to her shoulders and he dropped her dressing gown. She helped him discard it.
"Could've used that as a pillow," he mused.
"Instead of these thoroughly domestic cushions," she added wryly. "Where'd you get these, anyway?" She picked one up to look at it more closely. "Are they embroidered?"
He shrugged, unembarrassed. "I had a friend who liked to do that as a hobby."
Her eyes gleamed. "Oh my god, you did this, didn't you? In one of your regenerations, you embroidered cute little patterns on your cushions." She cackled when he sniffed haughtily, confirming her theory. Wiping her eyes in her hilarity, she muttered, "Oh, that's brilliant. That's really brilliant. I love you."
His eyes widened and hers quickly followed suit when she realised what she'd accidentally said. They stared at each other in silence for a few moments, and then she felt like she had to break the awkward tension, so she murmured a tentative, "Oops?"
The effect that that word had on the Doctor was astounding. She watched in delight as he giggled. Giggled. "Oh, let's get naked," he said cheerfully.
Well, she didn't need a second offer. She quickly pulled her pyjama top off and helped him with his jacket, shirt and tie. As she'd been in bed not long ago, she wasn't wearing a bra, and the Doctor quickly became mesmerised with her chest, his giggles fading out as lust clouded his eyes.
Fuck, she'd be able to get off to thoughts of that expression of his for the rest of her time alive.
"You are," he began, kissing his way down her sternum, "Absolutely gorgeous." He took a nipple into his mouth and she squeaked as he sucked firmly. He spent some time bestowing a significant amount of attention to that breast before moving onto the other, and Rose was soon becoming impatient, moving around on his lap and complaining about him going so slowly.
He finally lifted his head and pouted. "What?"
"I want you out of your trousers," she said, without preamble.
He sighed, as though long-suffering, and mumbled, "Well, I didn't get to do this last time, did I?"
Rose hummed in agreement. Last time, the first time, had been hurried and against the console, with both of them still mostly dressed, her pink skirts bunched up between them and his trousers around his knees. They had been dancing all evening celebrating the coronation, and they'd been chased out of the street party at around ten o'clock by an old lady wielding a handbag. No one else had noticed, so caught up in the revelry, but when the Doctor had suddenly twirled Rose out and then against him in a particularly dashing dance move, Mrs Crotchety had thought them inappropriate, or something.
And okay, so maybe the traumatic events of the day had meant that the Doctor had been a bit preoccupied with staring at Rose's face, perhaps even her lips, all evening, and maybe Rose had noticed that and retaliated in a completely harmless way by pinching his bum, which Mrs Old Bag had noticed, but it had just been to get a rise out of him – and not that sort of a rise, although that did come later – and…oh, blimey, Rose couldn't think anything these days without it sounding like a double entendre.
Anyway, point was that they'd raced back to the TARDIS, both eager to continue the light-heartedness of the evening and yet unable to forget the fact they'd nearly been separated for good, again, earlier on in the day. And so it had only been natural, really, as some sort of…well, they justified it as a release, a meaningless bout of – of exercise to put the adrenaline to good use and reassure themselves of each other's presence. That was all. Much like how tonight was supposed to go.
Except he was making this into something more than that, now; it was obvious. With all his proper, methodical teasing and attention, and the way he wanted to fuck her in front of the Boomerang Nebula or whatever it was called, and the way his interest had only increased since she'd blurted out her love for him instead of making him run a mile. And no matter how many times they reiterated that this couldn't happen again, they both knew – knew, without a doubt – that it would. Because how could they let go of this?