Author's Note: Well here it is, the smut everyone's been waiting for. This will probably make a lot more sense if you've read the series.

Time Frame: Set right at the beginning of 'Army of Ghosts'. Seventh in the 'Incompatible' series.

Summary: His hands are cool against her flushed face as he cups her cheeks, caressing them with his thumbs and bringing her forehead to lean against his. His voice is soft, his words a desperate plea against her lips, "Let me in."

/-/-

Let Me In

She can't help but laugh at the sight. His jacket was tossed over the console a while ago and his shirt sleeves have been rolled up past his elbows. It's a new habit of his, something she's almost positive he never dared to do before she first saw him exposed like this to her that morning after; while he made breakfast for her. His hair is mussed beyond belief and his back is arched over the console, his focus fully concentrated on the problem at hand.

Which isn't all that unusual. Cute, but hardly unusual. It's just one small detail that has Rose near stitches.

"Why aren't you wearing shoes?"

She only laughs harder when his concentration is destroyed and dazed brown eyes stare down at his feet. Finally he shrugs and looks up at her, "No real reason."

One last confused chuckle escapes her before she steps closer to the Doctor, moving to rest her palms on the console and lean closer to him. "What are you doing?"

Rose learned very early on- her first night on board actually- that asking the Doctor, 'what are you doing?' is not a question that will receive a nice, easily understood answer by most Humans. In fact, it earns a response that sounds more like the example section in a Physics textbook from the 53rd century. Ever since then she's found it polite to attempt to ask, but zones out the moment his mouth opens.

Which means, as she's been absently daydreaming her way through the rest of her afternoon, she completely missed the moment the Doctor's mouth stalled half-way through some dreadfully technical word and his eyes drifted lower. It takes the startled sound echoing in his throat to focus her eyes.

Rose smiles. He's like a little boy sometimes, an awkward teenager just beginning to understand sex and women.

She turns away from the console, intending to give the Doctor's wonderful bedroom eyes a better view. His Adam's apple- if one can call it that- is bobbing up and down. He wets his lips even as he tries to pull his eyes back to hers and fails terribly.

It's not exactly not her style, but then again she's never worn jeans that cling to her curves quite like these, nor has she ever donned this glittery blue top that hugs her stomach and dips to show off a bit more cleavage than she's used to displaying around him.

She's smirking at him when he finally manages to look at her. "You like?"

He clears his throat, tries to hide the blush creeping into his cheeks. "I think that you, Miss Tyler," he steps closer, "have permanently corrupted my mind."

"Good," she laughs, her tongue touching her teeth. "Glad to be of service." Her look is thoughtful as her hand reaches out and her fingers begin to play with his tie. Her eyes are bright and her bottom lip has worried its way under her teeth when she looks up at him. "And dare I ask what corrupt thoughts are playing through your dirty little mind?"

His laughter brightens his face and she smiles. He lets himself be led by the tugof his tie to bring him flush against her. It's natural now, she's amused to think, for his hands to splay over her hips. Rose smirks, laughs really, when his eyes widen after he finds skin without the effort of raising her shirt. "Well, there was this one that involved you, me, and the TARDIS."

"Really, didn't think of you as the threesome type."

A look of confusion clouds the spark of desire she had finally fanned. It's gone almost as soon as it arrived and then he's leering at her, bending his knees so he can find her eyes. "I'd much rather find out what evil things you're planning for my tie."

She steps away from his grasp, both hands now tugging on the tie as she steps backward. "Why don't you come and find out?"

Another step backwards, another soft tug around his neck, another step forward he takes to meet her. Rose keeps that up, walking slowly and grinning at him like a lunatic until she reaches the archway out of the console room. That's when she turns around and swings the tie over her head to hold it over her shoulder. She chances a glance back at him to find his eyes laughing and his lips twitching.

She spins back around when it becomes too dull to not be able to see his face. She's still holding his tie, still tugging him forward with her, still laughing in delight.

A yelp squeaks past her lips. His hands are around her arms, her back is against the wall, his lower body is pressing against hers, holding her there, keeping her startled eyes on him. He's laughing and she laughs with him.

"Excited, are we?"

"You're not exactly complaining."

He kisses her, not particularly hard, but not exactly playfully. Rose just works with it, letting him lead her for the time being, just enjoying the feel of his lips sucking on hers.

He's decided that he officially approves of this new top, this sexy little thing that lets his hands find skin without any work and makes it that much easier to get his hands all the way up her sides. His lips are working with his teeth to mark her neck- revenge for the soft purple bruise still hidden beneath his shirt collar- and his hands are searching farther when he realizes it's missing. That hole in his mind is fidgeting, waiting and begging for a mind to fill it. He forgot to initiate it earlier, to dip into her mind and share himself with her.

Her fingers brush over his temples on their way to tangle in his hair. He can't help sighing into her neck and leaning into her touch. She hasn't figured it out yet, which is fine. Rose is a Human; Rose doesn't understand, there's nothing her Human brain can relate it to. As her fingertips graze over the sensitive skin again, moving to guide his face away from her neck, he wishes she was a telepath too, wishes she could initiate the bond she enjoys so much, but knows almost nothing about.

He lets her dominate again; takes her open hand offered to him and lets her walk him down the hall.

"I'm still waiting to see what your plans are for my tie."

She laughs, heartedly and excitedly, her eyes glowing and her grin brightening. He can't help laughing with her. Can't help tugging on her hand and pulling her to him. Can't help finding the ticklish spot beneath her ribs. She's laughing uncontrollably now, painfully unable to keep her lungs filled and frantically trying to bat her hands away from him. He's laughing hard as he's running after her and she races away from him. He doesn't realize when he catches up to her and pushes her against the wall again just where they've ended up. She's against his door, the door to the bedroom he's never let her see. He kisses her again, stealing away the breath she just recently found. Their pants mingle in the thin space between their faces as he fumbles with the door handle, holding her around the waist before he pushes the door open, pulling her to him as they both stumble into his room.

He doesn't give her a chance to get used to their new surroundings before his lips are on hers. She works at the buttons of his shirt, a desperate hunt for skin. She finds it, after an agonizingly long search. The material falls over his shoulders. Her hands wander over wiry hair, fingertips brushing over erect nipples just as he shakes the sleeves off his hands.

He doesn't notice until his upper body is free of everything but his tie, that she's pouting up at him. It's the protruding lip that has him leaning forward, tasting and teasing the soft flesh, without considering what caused it. He understands quickly though when her hands slide up along their former path, running over his shoulders and down his toned arms to find his hands. Her fingers curl around them and his arms go limp as he lets her lead his hands wherever she wants them to go.

A small smile tugs at the edges of his lips when he watches his fingertips rest on her temples. He leans in, capturing her lips. His tongue grazes her lower lip just as his mind reaches out; both dip inside together.

He can't help his reaction- his eyes fall closed and relief rushes past his lips in a sigh- as her mind fills his. As her thoughts and emotions and every sensation he's causing her leaks into his mind. It feels so good, so right, even if it just lasts for a short while. He misses it- the contact, the intimacy. There's a gaping hole in the back of his mind that she doesn't even know about, doesn't even know that it's her that keeps him from thinking about it. And now, she doesn't even know that she's filling it, filling a hunger that he hasn't been able to satisfy since the War.

She kisses back, relishing the new attention and contact. He just smiles into her kisses as his hands fall away from her temples and roam down her sides, finding that delightful patch of bare skin to rest on.

But she takes that away when she steps away from him, her tongue poking out, eyes glowing playfully. He doesn't move, just traces the sight of her hands with his eyes as they travel lower, gripping the wonderfully tight material. Inch by inch of skin is slowly revealed to him. He can feel his jaw slackening as the picture of her rippling abs are exposed to him, but he can't control the reaction.

Suddenly the world is black and she's laughing and he's groaning at the loss of such a wonderfully perfect image that had been painted before him. His hands rip the shirt from his face, discarding it on the floor.

Teeth are peeking through, nibbling on her lower lip as she watches him. Her fingers are playing with the button of her jeans, purposefully toying with it, deciding whether or not to pull it free. His brown eyes snap between her nimble fingers and her eyes, twitching with the need to help her, to watch her expose more skin to his starving eyes.

She does finally. Denim slips tauntingly over the metal button. He thinks he hears her chuckle, but he's not sure, no longer able to focus on anything but the sound of the zipper parting tooth by tooth until it reaches the end. He hopes he's not drooling as she shimmies out of her jeans, pushing them over her hips and down her thighs and past her knees. He hopes he's not, but he can't say for sure that he isn't. All he knows for sure about his own body is that his erection is pulsing painfully against his stiff trousers.

He can't stop himself anymore once only the two smallest strips of material remains between his eyes and her skin. He steps up to her, cupping her cheek and kissing her languidly and thoroughly. His other hand is busily trying to remember how this particular bra works and finally manages to unclasp the front, letting the material fall away from her lush breasts. Fingertips trail down the valley between them, his fingers tingling against her skin and she sighs against his lips.

"Can I ask you a question?" she breathes against his face.

"Hmm," he hums against her skin as he kisses her, paying more attention to her neck than her words, she's sure.

"When you touch me, it feels like electricity's coming off your hands. What is that?"

He stops kissing her, dragging his lips from her skin and eventually finding her eyes. A smirk is curling his lips and she's certain by the look in his eyes that he's not going to answer her just yet. Instead, he lays her down, taking his time to be memorized by the sight of his deep crimson duvet contrasting sharply against her pale, naked body. He tries not to let his fingers tremble as he works the buckle on his belt and finally frees his throbbing erection.

He's deliberately not answering as he slowly peels the damp material of her knickers down her legs and lays himself next to her. He takes his time to drag his fingers between her breasts, following the faint traces of light brown hair leading him closer to where he longs to stroke again.

But Rose, ever aware of his unfocused tendencies, redirects him. She stops his hand, cradling it in hers, stroking it and bringing it between them. Her unoccupied hand cups his cheek, pulling his eyes back to hers, silently asking the question again with an annoyed look and a raised brow.

"It's, em, complicated really. Well… when I say complicated, I mean- oh!" He stops speaking, preferring to oxygenate his body rather than explain Gallifreyan sex. He wants to claim that she's being unfair- that she can't stop his wandering hand in order to grip and stroke his hard length. All the while her expression is calm, waiting, just barely concealing the smirk threatening to take hold.

As much as he hates to do it, he grabs her hands and in one motion he's got her pinned under him, her hands locked above her head and his lips pressed against hers. When they break for air, she's panting and struggling playfully against his hold, but he's not budging and his breathing is even as his nose strokes the shell of her ear.

"Your Human brains aren't designed for telepathy, nor are they trained to cope with it, which makes it nearly impossible for them to understand telepathic communication. The electricity-" he strokes the length of her arms with flat hands, burning her skin with what she calls electricity, just to accent his point, "is your body's way of dealing with it."

"So this thing I'm feeling- this electrical tingling thing- that's what you feel for me? That's your thoughts and emotions?"

"Yes." He kisses her, because he can and because he likes to, as his hands continue stroking down her body. "This is what I feel for you. How you make me feel- every day… and right now- your body against mine." Their lips meet briefly before he presses on, tasting her jaw line and her neck until he sighs, "I just wish that you could understand."

Her hands, which she had left above her head in favour of watching him, move down to take his face, bringing his focus back to her eyes. "You could always just tell me."

Somehow, despite the fact that his body is already pinning hers against the bed, he manages to hold her closer to him. His face buries into her neck and her hands slide down along his chest, waiting for him. "I'm trying to," he whispers against her burning skin, "I just don't know how."

Her heart breaks a little at the sorrow in his voice. He's trying so hard to tell her something, but he can't. Cultural differences, he said, and now he can't understand how to mimic her inefficient human ways to express love.

She kisses him soundly on the lips, wanting both of them to forget the conversation ever happened. Wanting him to focus on her, right now, and how he's making her feel.

He's beneath her now, simply responding to her touch as she kisses him and runs her hands over the sparse chest hair. "It's okay. I know."

She kisses him again, shifting her weight and pulling away from him, just enough to make him whimper, enough to force him to shift his own weight to find her lips again. Her lips curve into a smirk, laughing at his struggle to catch her lips as she moves farther and farther away from him. His hands regretfully fall away from her sides as his elbows spread behind him and the muscles of his chest strain in the hope of raising off the bed.

When he tires of her game, he pushes himself up, adjusting himself beneath her so that he's sitting upright and she's straddling his body, holding her just over him, watching him, waiting for him to guide her onto him.

His hands are cool against her flushed face as he cups her cheeks, caressing them with his thumbs and bringing her forehead to lean against his. His voice is soft, his words a desperate plea against her lips, "Let me in."

It's sudden. Painfully and surprisingly and pleasantly sudden. She doesn't hear, doesn't feel as air rushes over her vocal cords and she cries out. All she can feel is him, flaring inside her, gripping her inside and out, surrounding her in a wave of electricity. But it's different this time and that's what shocked her. Blurs of foreign thoughts are sprinting through her mind. Feelings- strong, powerful emotions, a whirlwind of love and anger, joy and sorrow, excitement and worry is swirling through her body. It's amazing but more overwhelming than anything else. She's not sure what to make of it.

Then he's kissing her. She hardly had air in her lungs before, but now he's sucking it in, forcing her to cling to the last traces of air in her lungs. She pushes him away, catching her breath as she strokes the base of his neck.

She can sense the moment he beings to worry. His grip on her hips becomes tighter and his back tenses. But it's more than that. She senses it emotionally. Feels it as if she's worried for him. She's so focused on her discovery that she hardly noticed his hands moving up to graze her temples. He doesn't want to hurt or scare her, plans to tone their link down to where it has always been. But that's not what she wants. She wants him. All of him. So she takes his hands, threading her fingers through his.

Before he can complain or explain or whatever he is opening his mouth to do, she kisses him, hard and deep. Her hips rock into his, beginning the slow build up of electricity, only this time it's different. The effect is the same, but the electricity isn't so much an unusual stimulation of flesh on flesh as it is the sparking of love and trust between them. It's different and wonderful and perfect and she hopes that he can feel that radiating off her because she wants him to know. Wants him to know that she understands now.

It doesn't take long with this foreign stimulation before she's soaring through her orgasm and collapses into his strong arms.

She buries her face into his shoulder; he rests his cheek against her hair, stroking it as they wait for their hearts to calm and their minds to return to them.

"That was beautiful." He just nods, not yet sure of his voice. "Is this what you've felt every time? My feelings for you."

"Every time."

They lay there for a time, holding each other, letting the feelings of contentment flow freely through them. She loves these moments. When it's just them, holding each other. When she's laying on top of him, legs tangled, her palms stroking the damp skin over his racing heart. They beat so fast, even at his calmest.

"Oh! I almost forgot!"

Just as suddenly as their intimacy began, it was over. The Doctor eases her off him, springing from the bed and searching desperately for layers of clothing. "Well come on," he finally says once he notices that she hasn't been following along. "Get dressed!"

And with that, he's running off to the control room where the rest of his clothes ended up. Rose just laughs. He's definitely not a human male, who would have been asleep by now. He's just him, her Doctor, springing from one adventure to the next without pausing for breath.

She gets up and finds some clothes, quickly joining him in the control room before he gets antsy. He's already dressed and landing the TARDIS somewhere that's got him beaming ear to ear.

"So what's got you so excited?"

"You'll see." He reaches out his hand, wiggling his fingers, grinning as she takes his hand and follows him outside.

It's breathtaking. An orangey sky illuminating the volcanic rock formations.

Rose jumps at the first sound of something alien. Her mouth falls open and her eyes grow wide.

"A dragon," she asks over her shoulder at him.

"I guess you could call them that."

She's content to watch the group as they fly around, chasing each other and playing, their musical cries filling the air. She just smiles.

"How long are you going to stay with me?"

She twists to see him, her hands stuffed in her jacket pockets a mimic of his hands stuffed into his trousers. The amused smile grows wider, a smile just for him as she tells him, "Forever."