The rating has increased for this chapter, as it contains some Adult content. I feel it is important to the story and not gratuitous, but you will still get the essence of the story if you only read up through the conversation following the kiss and the very last part (if you would rather skip the sex).
Thanks again to my beta re-sile and to everyone who has read, favorited, followed, and/or reviewed :) This is the last chapter.
If the Doctor had to choose one emotion to describe the expression on Rose's face, it wouldn't be either of the reactions he anticipated: she doesn't look offended or amused. Still, what is it? Her widened eyes and gaping mouth convey shock; her narrowed eyebrows imply confusion, or perhaps disapproval; a pink flush dancing from her clavicle to her cheeks and a small smile at the corner of her lips suggest both embarrassment and pleasure. Inscrutable would probably be the most accurate, because he has no idea what is going on in her head right now, but that isn't really an emotion. Still, he likes the way the word sounds on his tongue.
Rose closes her mouth, eyes snapping up to meet his, an impenetrable torrent of thoughts locked in battle behind her hazel irises.
"Sorry? What's 'inscrutable'?"
He frowns, not realizing he'd said that out loud. "Ah. Nothing. You know me, always running at the mouth. Rose, I can explain. About the room, I mean."
"Yeah?"
"Well," he says, running his hands over his face. "I requested a suite with two bedrooms, gave them detailed instructions, in fact, that they deliberately ignored. It's important that you know that, the 'deliberately ignored' part, because I wouldn't have assumed you'd want..." He motions at the bed with one hand, reaches behind his head to scratch at his neck with the other. "Anyway. When I got here and saw all of this, I rang the front desk directly to tell them there'd been a mistake, but they claimed to have no other rooms available. Very unhelpful, really." He lets out a sigh of relief - not so difficult, after all, saying all of that.
"Oh." She fidgets with one of her earrings and bites her lip as she surveys the room, not meeting his eyes.
Human emotion might not be his primary expertise, but he's relatively certain that she sounds disappointed.
"So, this why you've been acting so strange, then?"
"Have I?" He tugs at his earlobe, really wishing he didn't have such obvious tells in this body. Usually, he is so much better at projecting 'calm and collected.'
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, you have." She walks up to him and places a hand on his shoulder with a gentle smile. "It's okay, Doctor. I'm fine with all of this. Really, it's a bit funny, actually."
He beams. "I know! Just look at how outrageously decorated this room is. Almost like your mother got a hold of it."
Face screwed up in disgust, he shudders.
She chuckles and wags a finger at him. "Hey, you leave my mum out of this."
"Oh believe me, no problem there. Won't hear me bringing her up again, tonight." He presses a finger across his lips, zipping them shut.
They both continue to stand where they are, feet shuffling, eyes darting around the room, and a palpable silence builds between them.
"So," they both say at the same time.
Breathing out a quiet laugh, Rose reaches for his suit jacket, plunging her hands into one of his bigger on the inside pockets. He gulps as she fumbles around, uncertain, until finally she retrieves a toothbrush, a pair of pink cotton shorts and a floral vest. She holds them up with a triumphant grin. "Ah-ha! I knew I had some pyjamas in there somewhere. I'm gonna go get ready for bed. See you in a mo, yeah?"
She walks towards the ensuite, hips sashaying in her sleek, red dress that reveals the curve of her back. He supresses an undignified squeak, swallows it down, and pushes an image of slipping the dress off of her out of his mind.
He follows her and, reaching out to grab her hand, he pulls her towards him. "I can go back to the TARDIS, pick you up tomorrow after you've had your spa day. The old girl's still temperamental and could use some extra attention."
Shaking her head at him, firm and decided, she tilts her chin up. "That's just silly, Doctor. I know you're worried about her, but the TARDIS is miles away and the tram's probably stopped running by now."
"Alright, I'll, I'll…sleep on the floor then. Well, I say sleep, but I don't need to do that again for another forty-eight hours at least. Well, I say forty-eight hours, but really I could go even longer than that if I had to. Well -"
Rose places her hand over his mouth.
"I don't know what's going on in that big Time Lord brain of yours, but you're being ridiculous. It's not like we've never slept in the same bed. Just don't go anywhere, alright?" She turns around to walk into the loo, shutting the door behind her.
She's right, of course. They have shared sleeping spaces in many different types of situations: Curling up against each other on prison floors or small beds, depending on the quality of the cell and if they are thrown in it together; holding her against his chest on the sofa in the TARDIS media room as they watch something on telly; petting her hair as she rests on his lap while he reads to her in the library; spooning together on beds in different houses, on various planets, and even once in her own bed on the TARDIS when she had a bad dream and needed the reassurance that he was still with her.
Although he has relished (almost craved) the comfort of feeling her warm, human body pressed against him, looked forward to any opportunity to take her in his arms, he has always kept it friendly, chaste, innocent, even as his feelings and desires were anything but, choosing instead to cherish what they have for as long as he gets to keep her. And it has been enough, more than enough. Certainly more than he deserves.
But he can feel his resolve crumbling, feel the temptation building with each passing day that he spends with her, and he doesn't know if that's even what she really wants. Not with the confusing way she's been behaving lately and the look of uncertainty he keeps seeing in her eyes. Oh, he knows she finds him attractive; he can smell it on her – potent pheromones, a rapid pulse, flushed cheeks - all sure signs of attraction. If he didn't have the ability to regulate his own responses, he would have surrendered long ago. As it is, this body in particular seems made to respond to her.
Combing a hand through his hair, he sighs and walks over to the heart-shaped bed to sit on the edge, removing his trainers, while he waits for Rose to come out of the loo.
Throwing his head into his hands, he contemplates his two options: He can pretend to be unaffected, curling up next to her, tamping down his hormonal responses as usual, keeping their relationship in an amicable cocoon of chaste caresses; or he can change everything.
Playing the asexual, clueless alien has served him well: it's safe, clean, and no one gets hurt. Or so he thought. He can see the fractured edges of their entwined timelines, feels something coming, like an object just at the edge of his vision. He longs to take her into his arms, make love to her, and show her how much she means to him so that she never doubts it again; even as he longs to run as far away as possible, retreat into himself, build a protective barrier around his battered hearts, letting her live a safe life without him. And he isn't sure which path is more alluring.
A hand on his shoulder startles him out of his thoughts. He jerks his head up to see a pyjama clad Rose leaning above him, brow furrowed and lips parted, her face cast in shadow by the hair hanging across her cheeks and the soft light of the hotel room. He thinks he might be gaping at her.
"Doctor, what's the matter? I called your name twice and you didn't hear me."
"Oh, did you? Sorry 'bout that. Just a bit more tired than I thought, I guess. Maybe I could do with a short kip, after all." It surprises him when he realizes his words are not untrue. He is tired.
She smiles, a small, tender smile, still clutching his shoulder. "Well, let's go to bed then."
The way she says it isn't at all seductive and it holds none of the teasing flirtation that is often present in their banter. Still, there's something quietly intimate about it that makes him want to look away.
Rose walks to the opposite side of the bed and pulls the duvet back before laying down on her right side, facing him. She looks up, lashes obscuring her eyes, head resting on her arm, and pats the sheet next to her.
Standing up to remove his suit jacket and tie, he takes a moment to compose himself, breathing in and out a few times, before turning back around to climb under the covers.
He lays there, staring up at the ceiling, feeling rigid and awkward in his shirt and trousers. When her foot brushes his calf, sending a tingle up his spine, he yelps.
"Oh, sorry. There's not much room to move." She pulls on his hand to encourage him to lie on his side, facing her. He complies, turning over so that their faces are almost touching. "Hello," she says, grinning a toothy smile that makes his hearts speed up.
She reaches a hand out to touch his cheek; the pads of her fingers lightly tracing over his jaw, up and down the side of his face in a lazy pattern that is so relaxing that his eyelids begin to droop.
"No stubble. You're so lucky that you don't have to shave that often. Blokes are always going on about having to do that."
Opening his eyes, he lifts an eyebrow and sniffs dramatically. "Yep, superior biology."
Rolling her eyes at him, she continues to caress his face. "I've counted one hundred freckles already. That a part of your superior biology too, then?"
"Well." He sucks on his bottom lip in consideration. "Could be. I don't exactly have control over what I regenerate into, at least not consciously."
"I've wondered about that, actually. You said - " She looks down for a moment, biting her lip, and meets his eyes again. "You said you could end up with two heads."
"I did say that, yeah. Not really possible though. Well, not likely, anyway." He tugs at his ear, averting his eyes.
"Yeah, didn't think so," she says, playing with the collar of his shirt, grazing his neck with her fingers. "I'm glad. Not sure what you'd do with two heads. I don't think even the TARDIS would be big enough to hold that much ego."
"Ha! Cheeky," he says, with a quiet chuckle.
Their eyes meet and her hand stills its ministrations, smile fading, a flush blooming on her cheeks. He becomes still. Mesmerized by her gaze, his eyes begin to drift closed, just as they did earlier that day on the tram. He feels her hot peppermint tinged breath blowing across his cheek and her soft hair grazing his jaw, as she leans her head closer, brushing her lips against his. It's gentle, chaste, little more than a peck, but it's enough to make his hearts beat faster and his eyes widen in both pleasure and alarm. Nowhere in his scenario had he anticipated that she might make the first move.
Before he has a chance to respond, she begins to pull away, an apology on her tongue, her eyes wide in expectation of an admonishment or a rejection, he isn't sure which. Making a split second decision, he shakes his head at her and clutches her shoulder, tight and insistent, keeping her close.
He focuses on her lips, watching the way her tongue darts out to moisten them, and runs his thumb across the corner of her mouth and then across her lower lip, his sensitive digit tracing the lines there and feeling the slightly chapped texture. Meeting her eyes again, he cups her chin and leans in, replacing his thumb with his mouth.
They both freeze, lips against lips, neither moving to deepen the kiss, and then he feels the slow slide of her bottom lip against his, and, encouraged, he responds, hand moving to the back of her head to pull her even closer. Slow, undemanding kisses become less tentative and his time sense begins to slow down as he loses focus of everything outside of the sensation of her lips on his. Unbidden, a mantra of 'Rose-Tyler-is-kissing-me' begins to play over his mind, to the beat of her mouth merging with his, again and again. He smiles against her lips, giddy with the knowledge that this is real and happening right now; the decision has been made.
Her tongue darts out, dipping into his mouth, and he groans, heat and pressure already building as he tangles a hand in her hair. She curls her tongue around his, and it's hot and wet and messy and absolutely brilliant, except the angle isn't right; he needs leverage. He starts to lift his head up to hover above her, but she seems to have the same idea. Her leg hooks between his thighs, and without breaking away from the kiss, she slides on top of him, grabbing onto the sides of his face to hold herself up. He knows she can feel how hard he is, hears it in the way she gasps against his mouth. And this is all happening too fast; he needs to slow down.
All of his earlier anxieties come back to him at once. He can't do this, not if she's just going to leave him someday, not when he's still torn between wanting to run and wanting to hold her forever. He's already given her more of himself than he has ever given anyone, taken more from her than he ever should have, and it isn't enough, will never be enough.
He breaks away from the kiss, and presses his forehead against hers, feeling the heaviness of her hot breath against his neck and the rapid beat of her heart against his chest. Trembling, he closes his eyes and tries to concentrate on regulating his breathing and the arousal coursing through his body. Just as he almost has it under some semblance of control, he feels her mouth on his pulse point, tongue laving, lips sucking, and he has no hope of controlling this any longer. He has to stop her, before they go too far.
"Rose."
She doesn't respond.
"Rose, please, I need –"
"Yes, Doctor, I know. Me too." She starts to un-button his shirt, pressing wet kisses on his collarbone, and running fingers through his sparse chest hair. More than anything he wants to flip her over and… but not yet.
"No, Rose. I – we need to stop." He grabs her around the waist, pulling her off him. She sits close, facing him.
"Oh."
Looking at her doesn't help him regain his rationality, not with the perfect portrait of human arousal that she makes: hair adorably mussed, face flushed, eyes hooded, and lips swollen and red. He has to avert his eyes to keep from pulling her back to him.
He combs a hand through his hair and sits up, leaning against the headboard, sucking on his bottom lip where he can still taste her.
"Why'd you stop?" she asks, eyes wide and glazed and tinged with fear.
Casting her a brief glance, he runs his hands over his face.
"I uh – I didn't want to. Believe me, I really didn't, not with you all –" He waves his arms in her direction. "Anyway. We can't rush into this, Rose. Not without talking about it a bit first."
"'Kay. And why's that, then?"
"Because, once we do that, everything changes. And I won't be able to –" he pauses, sighing in frustration at the way words are failing him once again. "Oh, I'm rubbish at this."
She runs her hand over his arm, soothing and gentle. "Won't be able to what, Doctor?"
He doesn't answer her. Instead, he stares straight ahead, fixating on a pattern in the wallpaper, crossing his arms and swallowing words that remain lodged in his throat.
Her hand touches his chin, tilting it towards her so that he is looking her in the eye. He sees vulnerability, uncertainty, and compassion reflected there, but he also sees an unfailing resolve and determination, that reminds him that she once held the power to undo and remake the universe, a power she gave up for a kiss.
"Tell me, please," she whispers.
"I –" He could never deny her anything, so he tries to find the right words, scrambles to find them somewhere in his big, impressive brain that is doing him a fat lot of good right now. "I won't be able to let you go, not ever. Not unless it means saving your life."
She frowns and looks away from him. "Oh. And you were planning to?" Tears form in the corner of her eyes, and he squeezes his eyes shut for a second, hating himself for hurting her. "Were you even going to tell me? Were you even going to give me a choice?"
"That's not – I didn't mean me, Rose. I'd never –" He sighs, taking a deep breath, needing to get this right. "Since the parallel world and losing Mickey, you've been distant and I know you're thinking about leaving. Not only can I see it when I look at you; I can even see it in your time line, in the way it's splintering away from mine. That's only one potential future – I can't see the details, but it's looking like a probable one."
"Right. Okay. So, your time sense tells you something about one potential future out of many and you just assume that's the one that's going to happen?" She shakes her head at him. "And you didn't think to talk to me about it?" Her voice raises an octave and he flinches. "Of course you didn't. This is you, after all."
"Hold on, that's not fair. You haven't exactly been open with me lately either. You've been all –" He gestures uselessly, flailing for the right words, frustration building in his gut that threatens to turn to anger. "Look, Rose. I didn't want to push. I wanted to give you space to grieve for what you lost."
Of course he leaves out the part where he's been a selfish coward, too distracted by his own fears to inquire about what was really troubling her.
"No, Doctor, you were scared. It's okay - I've been scared too. Of the same thing, if we're being totally honest." She worries her bottom lip between her teeth and looks at him like she can see into his soul and he wonders for a moment if she really can. "And if we are being totally honest, I did think about it. About leaving I mean. I thought –" She sighs. "I thought you were pushing me away, and after you changed, I felt a bit abandoned, like you'd left me and then came back to me all at the same time. And then you were all how you are now, and I thought I was fine, but you left me again. You did, and I guess I've been protecting myself a bit. Mum says I've got 'abandonment issues,' got that from her know it all therapist friend, apparently. But it was a passing thought. Nothing more, not really. And I haven't thought about it since."
"You aren't leaving me, then?" he says in a voice that sounds small, even to his own ears.
She hits him on the back of the head and he yelps. It's just a light tap that doesn't hurt, but it is unexpected and Rose has never hit him.
"Ow! What'd you do that for?" he asks, rubbing his head.
"Because you're an idiot. For a Time Lord genius, you're a big, sodding idiot. I'm never leaving you! I don't know what it will take for me to convince you of that." She points her finger at him, a determined look in her eye that says he better not try to contradict her.
"Well." He gulps, not knowing how to respond, feeling a little intimidated and still slightly aroused. He has a feeling that telling her he'd like her to snog him again in the middle of a domestic is probably a bad idea. "Are we having a domestic?"
"Um. Maybe?" She shakes her head at him, laughing.
"So what was it that had you upset then? I mean, if you want to tell me. You don't have to…"
"I dunno. I guess it's just everything that's happened recently catching up with me, and all. Then we came to this planet and it reminded me of my cousin and my dad, so soon after my dad – well, the other Pete, anyway, wanted nothing to do with me." She shrugs. "Guess I was just a bit sad."
He moves to pull her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her head against his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles over her back.
"You're right. I am an idiot," he murmurs against her hair.
Rose pulls away, giving him a questioning look. She taps herself on one ear, like she's trying to push something out, or like she's hard of hearing. He frowns in concern, reaching for his sonic to scan her, but she stills his hand before he can point it at her.
"Sorry. Hold on – just, I thought I heard you call yourself an 'idiot'. Let me just clear my ears a bit and you can say whatever it was you said again, so I can hear it properly."
"Oh, ha! You think you're so funny," he says, suppressing a smile.
"That's because, I am so funny. And you love it!" She grins, tongue poking out a little. His hearts speed up, remembering their heated kiss. She sobers, face going carefully blank, and he wonders if she is thinking about it too.
"You aren't an idiot, Doctor. I can't begin to understand what it's like to lose as much as you have..." She shakes her head and grabs his hand, pushing their palms together, between their faces. "I'm here now, gonna stay that way if I have anything to say about it."
"I like the sound of that." It doesn't erase all of his anxieties; he knows he won't be able to hold onto her forever, that one day he really will have to let her go, but he's ready, now, to seize every moment that they do have together.
"Good," she says.
"Yeah." He smiles, focus returning to her lips. "So, now that, that's all sorted, do you think we could get back to the snogging? I think we were getting rather brilliant at it, don't you?"
She narrows her eyes, wrinkling her nose and tapping her chin with her index finger. "I don't know. S' a pretty big mood killer, having a conversation like this just before shagging."
"Oh? Well, we don't have to shag. It's not a requirement or anything. I'd be happy just to do a bit more kissing and snuggle afterwards. I'm brilliant at snuggling in this body, as you well know. Though if you ever tell anyone that I am, I'll deny it fiercely. I've got a reputation to maintain and I don't fancy being renamed the 'oncoming snuggler'." He furrowed his brow, backtracking. "Not that I don't want to have sex with you, because, believe me, I really, really do." Was that too much, though? Now, his eyebrows climbed up his forehead. "Still, there's no rush! I'm perfectly fine with waiting. I'm not the most patient man in the universe, but we've waited this long already and -" Blessedly, his remaining words disappear into her mouth.
It takes him a second to respond, his eyes crossing as they attempt to focus on her silencing lips suddenly on his. Finally, he catches on, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, increasing the pressure until he has it right, yielding yet firm. Just as they're beginning to develop a good technique, she breaks away, leaving him dazed and unfocused.
"Waited long enough, Doctor. And there's no way I'm getting through an entire night in this ridiculous bed without shagging you."
"That so? Well, then."
"Yep."
"So do we just start with the kissing and then –" He motions back and forth between them.
"Well," she loops her arms around his neck, pulling herself into his lap, tilting her chin up to look at him with hooded eyes and a grin. "Generally this sort of thing happens naturally. Not a lot of talk about steps."
"Right. Got it," he says, eyes darting to her lips.
They both lean in at the same time, lips smashing against lips, and he thinks they must be getting better at it, because it's less wet and their noses don't touch. This time he knows the exact amount of pressure that he should use to get her to go limp in his arms, her back leaning heavily on his splayed hands. But those hands ache to do more than hold her up; they want to explore the dips and curves of her body. He pushes her shirt up to lightly trace his fingertips up her side, smiling against her mouth when she shivers in response, stopping when he reaches the curve of her breast and feels how soft it is. Breaking away from the kiss, he looks down to see the way it fits in the palm of his hand, bouncing it up and down a little.
"Having fun?" Rose asks him, an amused glint in her eyes.
"Yep!" He watches them bounce for a bit longer, sees the way her nipple protrudes out of her vest and immediately wants to taste her there. Still, even he knows there's an established order to this sort of thing.
He trails kisses across her jaw, down to her neck, where he sucks lightly at her pulse point, feeling the rapid beat of her heart against his tongue, tasting salt and smelling the fruity scent of her body wash. Her fingers rake across his scalp, encouraging him to continue. With his other hand, he pushes her vest down, exposing more of her clavicle, and presses a kiss in the dip there, remembering his earlier temptation to do so. Lashes brushing against her skin as he closes his eyes, he takes a deep breath, still barely believing that he's allowed to do this at all.
Looking up at her, he sees her watching him, cheeks tinged pink, lips swollen and red from his kiss, and he feels his cock begin to harden against her stomach in response.
He grabs onto the bottom of her vest, pulling it up all the way. "This has got to come off," he says, his voice sounding husky to his ears.
She nods, lifting her arms up, as he pulls it over her head. He takes a moment to stare, mesmerized by every perfect inch of her. She reflexively crosses her arms over her breasts and looks down, biting her lip, and he realizes she must feel vulnerable, naked and exposed while he is still almost fully clothed. Well, he'll just have to even things out a bit. He begins to unbutton his shirt, but her hands, uncrossing from her chest, still his.
"Let me," she whispers.
He nods, letting her. Shaky hands fumble with buttons and push shirt- sleeves off of his shoulders. She pulls back to look at him and he wonders if she likes what she sees.
He runs his hands up and down her arms, feeling goose bumps form on her skin. "Rose, you're beautiful."
"Thanks." She smiles shyly, still looking nervous under his gaze. "You're quite dashing, yourself."
"Only quite?" he asks in mock offence.
She grins. "Exceptionally handsome, foxy, hot, sexy, then. Shall I keep going? Or do you want to shag sometime tonight?"
"Oh, you feel free to continue whenever the urge strikes, but I've got plans. Lots of plans that I intend to carry out." To prove his point, he rocks his hips against her and she gasps, her legs tightening around him. His eyes travel to her breasts again. "Starting with…"
He lowers his head to take her nipple into his mouth, nipping it with his teeth to see what it feels like, repeating the action when Rose moans, running her hands through his hair and encouraging him to do it again. He does, laving it with his tongue afterwards, this time, and switching back and forth between breasts so that one doesn't feel neglected. He wouldn't want to show any favouritism, after all.
His neck begins to feel strained, so he pushes her back onto the bed, and she complies wordlessly lowering her head onto the pillow and helping him climb on top of her.
"This okay?" he asks.
She nods, pulling him down for a kiss, urgent and needy, tongue dipping behind his teeth. Running her hands over his back, she reaches up to cup his bum, still covered by his trousers, making him wish they were already removed. As if reading his mind, she hooks a finger in the waistband, tugging in frustration when they don't budge. He sucks in his stomach to help and her hand fumbles with the button and zipper, tugging both trousers and pants over his hips, fingers trailing across his abdomen. Groaning, he kicks them off the bed in one heap.
Her hand reaches for his bum again, and she wraps her legs around him, grinding against his shaft. He grunts into her mouth at the friction of the cotton against his skin, and pulls away from the kiss to sit up, lifting her hips to remove her pyjama shorts and pink knickers.
He beams down at her, liking the picture she makes all naked and aroused because of him. "Much better. Now we're even."
"Mmmm," she agrees, not hiding the way she is staring at his erection.
"Impressed with my bits, Rose?" He waggles his eyebrows at her.
"Oh, shut up, and come 'ere."
Lowering himself onto her, his cock brushes against her curls, and curious, he finds her folds with his fingers, rubbing her gently. When he touches her clit, she makes a delicious sound, somewhere between a moan and a shriek, that he immediately decides he wants to hear again. He rubs in circular motions, quickening his pace until she is trembling beneath him.
"Doctor, please, I really need…"
"You need what, Rose?"
In response, she reaches her hand down to cup him, pushing him against her core.
"This?" he asks, rubbing his cock against her, teasing the tip at her entrance.
She hooks her leg around him, pushing his bum down with her foot. And now he's half way buried inside of her, feeling her hot, tight walls all around him, and wondering how she accomplished that so easily. His head falls onto her shoulder, instinctively biting her there as he scrambles to regain control.
"Sorry, got a bit impatient," she whispers into his neck. "Just go slow at first, yeah? It's been a long time for me."
Taking a few deep breaths to keep himself from plunging into her, he slowly lowers himself the rest of the way. Allowing her to get used to his size, he stays there unmoving for a moment, pressing his forehead against hers, before pulling back to brush his hands over her cheeks. Her pupils are dilated and her lips are parted, hair splayed over a pillow, and he's never seen anything so beautiful in all of his lives. Supernovas have nothing on an aroused Rose Tyler, wrapped around his cock.
She bucks her hips up, encouraging him to move, and oh how his fantasies pale in comparison to how that feels. If he knew it was going to be like this, he would have given in a long time ago. Not needing any further encouragement, he begins to thrust in and out, but the angle isn't right at all, he decides, so he pulls out of her, sitting up to adjust. She protests, trying to pull him back, so he hurries, grabbing one of the many pillows that are on the bed and placing it underneath her lower back, lifting her to the perfect angle so that he can hit her in just the right spot.
"There, much better!" he says. He bends her legs, pushing them towards her shoulders, and slowly pushes back inside of her, deeper this time.
"Fuck. How did you -? Oh, Doctor." Her words fade into a long high-pitched moan.
He increases the speed, watching the way his cock plunges inside of her where they're joined. Sensing that she is getting closer, he lowers her legs and adjusts himself so that his pelvic bone hits her clit every time. It's a little clumsy and he fumbles around a bit to keep from falling out of her, the thrusts more shallow now, but, always the fast learner, he figures it out quickly. Her nails dig into his back and she bites his shoulder as she begins to clench around him. Forgetting about his own release, he slows down his pace, keeping his movements long and even, and watches her face as she comes undone beneath him. And he did that to her - him! He made Rose Tyler lose control and bite and scratch and shout his name.
When she comes down from her orgasm, he suspends his thrusting and smiles down at her
"That was brilliant! Does that always happen?"
"Um. No, not always, no. You, uh, you are very good at that. That was amazing," she says between laboured breaths.
"I am, aren't I? I had a feeling I might be. Wasn't sure though. It's been hundreds of years since I last tried this, you know."
"What, seriously?" she doesn't look like she believes him.
"Yep."
"You're still –" She bucks her hips up at him, reminding him of his hardened shaft still buried inside of her.
"Oh, right! So I am. Are you okay to keep going?" he asks, really hoping she says yes, because now that he's been reminded of it, he feels an urgent need to start thrusting again.
"Yeah, just a bit sensitive after but -." She wraps her legs around his bum, pushing him in deeper and away from her clit. "There, perfect."
He begins to move again and lowers his mouth to kiss her.
His hands ache to touch her temples, ache to merge their minds, to become one with her in the moment of his pleasure. He doesn't want to scare her, though, so he focuses on her eyes instead, seeing so much love there that it almost makes him want to look away. He knows he doesn't deserve it, doesn't deserve her, or the solace her body is so freely giving him right now. But he's done resisting her, done denying himself what they both so desperately need, and for the first time in a long while, he feels like he isn't so alone anymore.
Thrusting faster, he feels his balls tighten and focuses on the sound of skin slapping against skin, on running his hands up and down her body, cupping her breasts and tweaking her nipples. His climax hits him, spilling deep inside of her body, and he collapses onto her, careful to keep his weight on his arms so that he doesn't crush her.
She's muttering soothing words into his ear that he doesn't understand at first, a string of nonsense that turns into soothing mumbles.
"It's okay, my Doctor. I'm here." She wipes wetness from his cheeks and he realizes he must have been crying.
Ashamed, he looks away from her, but she turns her head back to him, pulling his head down for a kiss, and he relents, yielding to her gentle, soft lips.
Some time later, the Doctor lays spooned against Rose as she sleeps. He smoothes her hair back, pushing it away from her face so that he can press light kisses into her neck. Reaching an arm underneath her, he wraps himself tighter around her abdomen, pulling her closer, cherishing the way her body curves into his. He smiles against her skin, deciding he was wrong before when he wanted to freeze them in that moment on the dance floor, because this - this is the one he would keep.
"Doctor, 'm trying to sleep," Rose mumbles.
"What? But you were asleep! Have been for four hours and twenty-two minutes now. And going on your slightly lower body temperature, slower heart rate, and consistent breathing patterns, you were in the middle of non-rapid eye movement stage three-delta activity just now, I'd say. And that's a state of very deep sleep, Rose! A simple brush of my lips shouldn't be able to rouse you so easily."
She groans, picking up a pillow to put over her ears.
Undeterred, he smiles and nuzzles more deeply into the crook of her neck. "Sorry, can't seem to help it."
Taking the pillow off of her head, she reaches behind her to weave her hands into his hair and he lets out a contented sigh against her skin.
"Thought you were tired."
"I was. Slept for twenty minutes of linear time. I don't need anymore than that," he says.
"Well the human with the inferior biology does," she grumbles.
"Sorry, I'll just –" he starts to move, but she pulls him back, her hand curling around his neck.
"No, s' okay. I'm awake now anyway and this is nice."
"Mmm, it is," he murmurs into her hair. Inhaling the mixture of her shampoo, sweat, and their mingled scents reminds him of their coupling and he begins to harden against her still naked bum.
"Again?" she asks with a breezy laugh.
In response, he kisses her neck and rocks his hips, showing her how ready he is. "Fancy another go, before you head out for your spa day?"
"I would, but not just now. I need the loo. Think I'd rather stay in here all day though, instead of getting a massage and a perfumed bath from a stranger."
She moves out of his embrace, getting up to walk to the ensuite. He watches her, her nude form not helping his current state of arousal.
When she reaches the door, she turns to look at him over her shoulder, a smile tugging at her lips. "I'm gonna take a bath in that gorgeous bathtub. You're welcome to join me. Just mind the spouts this time. I think I like it better when you don't smell like you got into a row with a flower garden."
"How did you –" She sashays into the loo and he decides he doesn't care how she knows, as he darts out of bed to follow her.