Summary: Rose and the Doctor go tripping through the clichés.
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.
to JennyLD for the fantastic beta and for pushing me to write and helping me when I got stuck. I don't think I would've finished it without her nagging and our word wars. :)
This chapter is huge, as I'm sure you already noticed, and have already freaked out about. Sorry about that. I can't seem to do short ending chapters, especially if smut is involved. And smut is definitely involved. :)

The Doctor glared at Elvis. His lip curled, not in imitation of the singer, but in a snarl that went largely unnoticed in the crowded Vegas casino. Amid the loud music blaring from tinny speakers on the slot machines, muzak on the overhead system, and the conversations surrounding him, an ear piercing alarm went off to his left, startling him enough that his drink sloshed over onto his hand. He transferred his glass to his other hand and absently licked the pop off as he resumed watching Rose and Elvis flirt.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He'd had a plan, a very precise, yet, simple plan, that wasn't being implemented. All because of Elvis.

He sniffed sharply.

What did Rose see in the singer? Well, sure, he was handsome, the Doctor supposed. Young, back to looking like he used to in his early days on Earth. Talented, sure. But could he precisely time the temporal shift of a star millions of light years away?


This wasn't one of his better plans, he thought with a sigh. He'd meant to show Rose a good time after her three-day hangover from the E'ren'on. A bit of fun, a little recovery, and then sex.

They had a suite in the hotel with a bed that took up nearly the entire bedroom. She had to have guessed his plan: hadn't he told her before fixing the TARDIS that he was going to make love to her for a week once they were able to? Now that she was re-hydrated and eating again, not lying in a miserable lump on his bed, well... it was time, wasn't it?

Time for sex with Rose Tyler.

That deserved capitals: Sex With Rose Tyler.

Just thinking about touching her, kissing her, being inside her... just thinking about her was making his body hum and grow heated in anticipation. A heavy weight settled in his stomach as his eyes caressed her form. Her bright blonde hair, pushed behind her ears, a smile on her lips that he knew let the tip of her tongue show.

He wanted to do things with that tongue. Put it to better use than smiling. Well, maybe not better use, but certainly more pleasurable use. And, oh, boy, did he want to put his own tongue to use on her.

But that was on hold for now, it seemed. Apparently the new plan was to flirt with Elvis bloody Presley.

He groaned mentally. It was his own fault; he'd had the bright idea to come here to see Elvis. The real Elvis, not the one from the twentieth century, but the one who'd returned home and was now a Vegas lounge singer in the forty-fifth century.

She was healed and he wanted her, but he'd decided to wine and dine her first. She deserved it after three days of throbbing headaches, no appetite to speak of, throwing up everything she managed to get down, and dehydration... E'ren'on wasn't really a drink for humans. He wished he'd remembered that before he'd told her it was safe for consumption.

Ah, well. Too late to worry about it now. What was done was done and all that rot.

Perhaps introducing her to Elvis hadn't been a particularly stellar part of the plan. How was he to know they'd hit it off and flirt with each other while he stood watching, virtually forgotten about?

Still, did she have to laugh so much? And not just a regular laugh, but one of those full-throated laughs where she threw her head back and scrunched her eyes up, and... that was his laugh! Elvis was stealing his laugh!

His eyes narrowed, fingers clenching his glass. Why did she keep touching his stupid, spangly-jacketed arm? It wasn't like she had to.

"Excuse me," said a gravelly voice to his right, interrupting his thoughts. "Could you do me a favor and shove off?"

The Doctor squinted through the smoke floating in the air, and glanced down at the owner of the voice. There was a rather oversized black and silver cowboy hat atop a wide-eared Telmo'Tar in front of the slot machine he was leaning on. Beady red eyes glared at the Doctor from amid a pale, narrow head. "Sorry?"

The Telmo'Tar sighed heavily and spoke slowly as if the Doctor were an idiot. "Get. Off. My. Machine? Min'Tiya!"

The Doctor's eyebrows rose. "Language," he chastised, pushing away from the blaring slot machine.

"I'll give you language," the Telmo'Tar grumbled, reaching forward with his short arms to slap his palm over the button that set the machine to spinning again.

Sighing, the Doctor turned his attention back to Rose and Elvis just in time to see them head down a hallway on the right. He knew that hallway, and he knew where it led.

Dressing rooms. That was enough.

Setting his drink on top of the Telmo'Tar's slot machine and ignoring his angry rumblings, the Doctor started off after them. Not three steps later, a small blue-haired figure bumped into him, splashing something wet onto his suit jacket, pants, and... "Oh, not the Chucks," he mumbled, swiping his hands down the dripping material of his shirt. Sighing, he looked down at a Wominlur, who began to apologize profusely in a high-pitched voice that was gratingly sharp over the rest of the sounds surrounding them.

"I am so very, very sorry, honorable sir." Small blue hands came up to help him wipe what smelled like bourbon from his pants, brushing and rubbing against his private bits. "Very sorry."

"Oi," he protested, stepping back from the too-intimate touch. "I've got it, thanks."

Light blue hair bobbed in a respectful bow, and the Wominlur headed off, continuing to bow for the next ten feet, even walking backward just to keep the Doctor in sight.

Sidestepping a cocktail waitress, the Doctor took two more steps toward Rose and Elvis, then shot down the row to his right. At the end, he darted forward and grabbed the Wominlur's arm, holding his own hand out. "Sonic screwdriver, if you don't mind."

The Wominlur smiled widely at him and bowed some more, nearly scraping his fingers on the ground. "You are very bright, very sharp," he giggled, straightening up again and digging a hand into his pocket. "I am most honored to have been your pickpocket tonight." He held a long, thin, boney finger up in the air, reaching only about chest height on the Doctor. "Most honored. You are worthy. I give you your sonic back."

The Doctor lifted an eyebrow at him and took the sonic screwdriver from his opened palm. Sticking it into his jacket pocket, he glanced down the hallway, looking for Rose and Elvis. They were gone. "And the psychic paper if you please."

The grin on the Wominlur's face widened. A hard feat, considering it was already nearly stretching from ear to ear. "Oh, yes. Oh, you are very observant, sir! I am most honored--"

"Yeah, yeah," the Doctor said in annoyance, grabbing the proffered item and stepping past the alien, eyes still on the hallway Rose had disappeared down.

This time, nothing stopped him. He headed toward the hallway and then followed it. The music, blaring sounds of the slot machines, and alarms faded into the background. Soon the only noise was the squeak his trainers made on the marble flooring. Overhead lights sent down a soft yellow glow that encompassed a few yards of the cream and blue walls and cream flooring before fading out and leading into the next pool of light.

He wasn't even aware of it until his palms began to hurt, but his hands were fisted in his trouser pockets, nails digging into flesh. This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go. See Elvis, have a little fun, maybe play a few games, and then back to their room for a fantastic night of shagging.

But that lothario of aliens had ruined his plans. Rose had gone to the King's dressing room and the Doctor was left behind to play with his sonic screwdriver.

There'd be no more of that if he had his druthers... well, not alone anyway. His lips curved up at the thought of watching Rose touch herself. His body liked that idea. His cock twitched and started to harden. Clenching his teeth, and trying to ignore the growing ache to have Rose right where he wanted her, he reached the end of the hallway and stopped before a door marked with a gold glittery crown with the name


spelled out in fancy black script.

First he'd get Rose back, then they could have happy sex-fun. Raising a hand, he rapped his knuckles against the wood and waited. There was a feminine giggle, followed by a low male laugh and a thunking sound. Frowning, the Doctor straightened up and reached for the door handle.

Maybe she was hurt. Maybe Elvis had kidnapped her! Maybe--

The door was yanked open, causing a breeze to stir his hair. Rose's laughter floated over him. With narrowed eyes, he took in her flushed cheeks, wild hair and the positively healthy glow to her.

He frowned. Something was wrong here.

"Doctor," she chuckled, grabbing his arm, attempting to drag him inside with her.

He resisted.

"Time to go," he told her, voice flat and eyes on Elvis, who was hovering on the other side of the small dressing room. He was fidgeting with something on a small table in front of him, shirt off. Yes, it was most definitely time to go, he thought, flickering his eyes over Rose's bright eyes and pink-tinged cheeks.

She didn't seem to notice his mood. Her hand slid into to his, twining their fingers together. "But, Elvis was just about to show me his--"

Eyes widening, the Doctor looked down at her. "Oh, I'm sure he was."

Rose blinked at him a few times, furrowing her brow as she finally took in his mood. "Something wrong?"

The Doctor breathed deeply, sliding his eyes over Elvis, wanting to yell that he was what was wrong. But he kept his composure and said instead, "No, nothing's wrong. It's just..." he struggled for an excuse, any excuse, but his mind was too filled with images of Rose and Elvis to think straight. The two of them, locked together, her sitting on the table--knocking something over in her haste... it would certainly explain the thump that he'd heard before the door opened--Elvis' wandering hands all over her. Her! His... Rose. Shaking his head to clear it, he muttered, "It's just time go. Come on."

Elvis' lips twisted up into a smirking version of his infamous lip curl. "But, Doctor," he said in that oddly rushed voice of his, thick southern accent still firmly in place, just as phony as the name he was known by, "you haven't stopped in for a drink and a chat yet. We were just waiting for you, weren't we, Rose?"

Her mouth curved up in a wide smile at Elvis' words, her fingers releasing and tightening on the Doctor's hand. "He was just telling me about the time you two--"

"Right." The Doctor sniffed, knowing all the stories Elvis could be telling Rose, and none of them were flattering. And he was still angry. Elvis seemed to be stealing his girlfriend. Well, was that really the word to use? Perhaps not. Maybe lover. Except she wasn't that yet. Soon, he hoped. Tonight. Eyes darkening at the thought, out of anger and frustration more than desire, he dragged on Rose's hand and pulled her with him, nodding curtly to Elvis. "Sorry, no time. Gotta go."

"Ah, that's all right," Elvis told him, looking Rose over a little too intimately for the Doctor's comfort. "I'll be seeing the two of you again. Goodbye, my sweet Rose petal."

The Doctor snorted and looked away.

Elvis made to take Rose's free hand, but the Doctor quickly drew her out the door with him. Elvis' eyes fairly danced with an amusement the Doctor didn't understand. "Doctor."

He waved a farewell in Elvis' general direction and dragged Rose with him.

She dug in her heels and looked from one man to the next, eyes narrowing at the steely gaze the Doctor sent Elvis. "It was nice meetin' you. Mum's gonna have kittens when I give her this," she said, holding up a small gold disk in the palm of her hand.

The Doctor sniffed, unimpressed. If she'd wanted a Holodisk, all she'd had to do was ask. He had a drawer full of them on the TARDIS. He tugged on her hand impatiently, eager to be gone from this place.

Instead of protesting further, she shut the door and let him drag her a few yards down the hall. Then she, so kindly, said, "You were bein' rude again."

He shrugged, uncaring about whether Elvis bloody Presley thought him rude. He wasn't the one stealing someone else's... soon-to-be lover!

She was silent for a few more yards before yanking her hand free. "What's got into you?" Crossing her arms over her chest, she stayed still and waited, watching him closely as the sounds of the casino played in the background. "I mean, you told me he was your friend. You introduced me to him. And you-- you have the banana-thing in common, yet, suddenly, you can't be bothered to make nice with him, leaving me to do so."

A hint of orange drifted by, and he knew Elvis had left the building, had transported back to his home planet. Good riddance.

The thought of Rose making nice with Elvis made his blood boil again. "Didn't look like a chore to me," he scoffed, tone coming out harsher than he'd intended. What was wrong with him? Couldn't he just shut up and stop digging himself in deeper? Forcing his body to relax, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Sorry, I'm just not in the mood for your pretty-boy flirting."

Oh, no. Why'd he go and say that? She was sure to get angry now, and he could see his chances for salvaging the night slipping through his fingers.

Her eyes darkened and narrowed on him. "Excuse me?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "I wasn't... there was no-- he was giving me an autographed holodisk-thingie for mum and showing me his stupid gold records!"

"I'll bet," the Doctor mumbled, rolling his eyes a little at her naïveté, and feeling quite justified in pointing out, "he was half-naked."

She dropped her arms, hands fisting by her sides. "He-- he's a singer," she spluttered, stepping away from him.

No, damn it. She was supposed to be moving closer to him, not farther away.

"He was changing for his next set," she continued, oblivious to his inner turmoil. "You know, here, in the very casino that you brought me to because, 'gosh, Rose, it'll be so much fun'. And then all you did was brood and hang back and look like you wanted to be anywhere else but here. Anywhere but with me," she added more quietly, swallowing and looking over his shoulder. "I mean, you're the one that brought us here-- I didn't even want to... why are we here?" Her eyes settled on his once again, and he saw a hint of uncertainty in them. "I thought we were..."

"We are," he insisted hurriedly, closing the distance between them and grabbing her upper arms. Loosening his grip, he smoothed his hands over her shoulders. "I am. You are. We... definitely are." Her muscles relaxed a little, but he could see she still wasn't completely convinced. Rubbing the back of his neck, he sighed and slid his hand down her arm to thread their fingers together. "Let's go upstairs."

There was a bank of lifts a little way down, and when she offered no resistance, he assumed she'd got over her anger, but as they neared the mirrored doors and he pressed the up button, Rose drew her hand from his and stepped back.

"Why?" She raised an eyebrow at him in the mirrored doors. She didn't look angry.

"What?" he asked, blinking at the bright lights that reflected off the lift doors rather than look at her straight on. She wanted to know why they were going upstairs to a hotel room that had a huge bed in it? Seriously? "Well... because."

Her snort, completely uncalled for and rather rude, irritated him further. But, paradoxically, her lips twisting up in amusement had him wanting to respond. "Because?" she mimicked, leaning one shoulder against the wall. "Well, that explains it all, Doctor."

He didn't like the amused, all-knowing look on her face. Didn't like that he really did like it and felt his body starting to respond to her again. He wanted to share in her amusement, and her being this close was a bit of a distraction for his righteous jealousy-- er, anger. "Elvis was... and-- and you were--" his voice was getting higher and he had to stop before he shattered the mirrored doors with it.

Sometimes he hated this incarnation.

"I was what?" she asked, smile still lingering around her mouth, ready to take flight at any moment.

"Flirting with him."

There. He'd said it. Told her the truth. Explained it clearly enough.

"That's what this is about?" she asked with a snort of laughter, gesturing to him, then the hallway behind that led back to the dressing rooms. "You're jealous? You?" She leaned closer and squinted at him as if reading something on his face.

"No," he denied, rearing back a little and shoving his hands in his pockets. A second later, he jerked one hand free and stabbed his finger at the up button again. She was being ridiculous. Of course he wasn't jealous of bloody Elvis friggin' Presley.

"Oh, my god," she laughed, pulling back and clamping a hand over her mouth. "You are," she said, words muffled. "You're jealous of Elvis. You went storming back there like a... like a--" her eyes fairly danced, reminding him of how Elvis had looked at him just a minute before, and then she burst into peals of laughter. "Like a caveman," she barely managed to get out.

A couple came up behind them, standing a few feet back out of respect for their personal space, but well within the range of their conversation. He glared at them in the mirrored doors.

Rose was still giggling.

And his chances of making love to her were decreasing exponentially.

"I'm surprised you didn't beat me over the head with a club... or, or the sonic screwdriver. And drag me away by my hair instead of my hand!" Her eyes widened and her grin split her face. "Oh, my god, you're Bobo!"

The last of his control snapped. "I am not--" he began, then stopped himself because he was practically shouting. In a more quiet, controlled tone, he continued, "I am not Bobo. Nor am I jealous. In any way."

She smirked and slipped her hands into her back pockets. "Okay," she chuckled.

The lift dinged, and when the doors slid open, the Doctor grabbed Rose's arm, nearly pulling her off balance as he dragged her into the small space, then turned to sonic screwdriver the panel of buttons. The couple with them tried to enter as well, but he released Rose's arm and waved them off. "Do you mind?"

The man raised a red tentacle and gestured them ahead with a sigh. "Don't mind us," he griped, rolling his ten eyes in unison.

The woman beside him folded her tentacles over her chest and glared. "Oh, no, we're fine, you go on ahead, Mr. Jealousy."

The sonic screwdriver whirred and the panel began to smoke. Just as the lift doors were closing, the Doctor stuck his head toward the opening and snapped, "I'm not jealous!"

Then the doors closed and their annoyed faces were gone, leaving him alone with an amused Rose.

Muzak, being piped in through a tinny speaker, accompanied them for the first four floors before the Doctor aimed his sonic screwdriver at the speaker, making it pop and hiss, before it crackled to death.

"Sure you're not."

The Doctor tossed a single annoyed glance over his shoulder, then ignored her, keeping his eyes firmly on the doors--no mirrors--watching the numbers count down. Well, up. "I'm not," he groused.





Something tickled his neck, and he reached up to brush it away before realizing it was Rose. She was standing just behind him, her warm breath wafting over his skin, ruffling the hair at the nape of his neck and stirring goosebumps on his skin. He was so attuned to her that he shuddered in response to her nearness.

Her hand threaded through his as she slipped alongside him, facing straight ahead. "Are too." Her eyes slid to his without moving her head, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her lips trying not to rise into a smirk.

"Am not." Also facing straight ahead, he straightened his back and shoulders and snuck a quick look at her.

Silence fell.

His mood was beginning to lighten just a bit. It wasn't the end of the universe. Rose was with him after all, not Elvis. She hadn't gone off with the King, and apparently, she'd had no intention of doing so either. That was good.

The lift began to slow down, then halted at floor sixty-nine.

As the door opened, Rose turned to him and asked, "Is it true that you and Elvis went to Elba-- um, Elberooun Seven?" She headed into the hall in front of them, stopping only when he didn't move and she had to halt her progress or have her arm yanked from its socket.

Swallowing past his suddenly dry mouth, panic racing through him, he stared at the side of her head, wondering where this question was headed. Hoped it wasn't headed where he thought it was. Oh, if Elvis had told her about the sisters, he was going to personally go to his home planet and-- and... take his transmat away. Closing his eyes at the pathetic threat, he pinched his nose and trailed after Rose. "Yes."

"And the Yurkama sisters...?" she continued, her voice full of curiosity and possibly more laughter.

The Doctor closed his eyes as they reached their room. "Yes."

Rose pulled her keycard from her back pocket and slipped it through the slot while he impatiently fingered the sonic screwdriver in his pocket. He wanted to aim it at the little electronic lock and blow it up, but the bulb turned green and the door swung open for them, denying him the satisfaction of seeing smoke, and parts flying through the air. There wasn't even a click. "So, why didn't you--"

"Didn't want to." He strode past her and listened in satisfaction as the door shut behind him, rattling loudly in its frame.

"Why not?" She followed him, paying no attention to the blue and cream theme that permeated the entire hotel. She didn't glance toward the bedroom on the right, didn't turn on the telly in front of them. Didn't go to look out the bank of windows at the cityscape beyond. No, she just stood before the couch, watching him. Eyes solidly fixed on his as he fidgeted with the sonic screwdriver, avoiding her gaze.

He used his thumbnail to click it on and off. Changed the settings from unlocking doors to resonating glass. If he shattered the windows, there'd be a whipping breeze that would threaten to suck them both out. His thumb flipped it back to glass. Then locks again.

Seeing she wasn't going to just let the subject go, he sighed heavily. "I'm not a human, Rose."

"Neither is Elvis." She shifted from her left foot to her right, sliding the keycard back into her jean pocket.

His eyes slid to the bedroom, seeing his chances slipping further away. "I'm not a Luxanion either."

She shrugged, the motion causing her hair to fall behind her shoulder. "Neither are the Yurkama sisters, yet they very obviously wanted--"

"Let me put it another way." He shoved his hands into his pockets, then took them out again and shrugged free of his coat, tossing it over the back of the couch. Scratching absently at the side of his jaw, he wondered why he hadn't told her this ages ago when he'd made his decision. Before the aphrodisiac incident that'd affected Rose. Before the cavemen planet even.

Sighing, he settled on the arm of the couch, shifting his coat sleeve out from under him. "I'm a Time Lord, and Time Lords don't need sex. We have no biological imperative. We don't... didn't have children through biological means, not for the past few thousand years."

"Where's the fun in that?" she joked, sucking her lips between her teeth.

Fighting his own smile, he cleared his throat. "We have... had-- well, I guess it's just me now. I have needs only when I want them. Only when I allow myself to feel them. I..." he trailed off, wishing he'd told her all of this long before. Eyes capturing hers, he held his hand out and folded his fingers around hers when she took it. He drew her closer, then settled their clasped hands on his thigh for a second before pushing to his feet. Sliding the fingers of his free hand into her hair, he leaned his forehead against hers. "I want you, Rose. I've wanted you for a long time. But, this isn't just, 'Hi, hello, I find you very attractive, let's shag!'. Time Lords don't work that way. With us, it's more, 'Hi, hello, I'm going to allow myself to be attracted to you, let's shag!'.

"So, you do...?" She raised her eyebrows pointedly and trailed her hand down his chest, to his trousers. Settling it between his legs and squeezing lightly, she caressed his semi-hard cock.

He'd been drifting toward hard all night, and now, with them alone, a bed nearby, and her fingers caressing him, he let himself respond to her fully. Not that he seemed to have much choice anymore. Since lowering his barriers and allowing himself to become aroused by her, he couldn't control it. Not really. "Oh, yes," he told her, cupping her cheek briefly before pressing his lips to hers once, then twice, and again. "And I plan on doing it quite often." He kissed her more fully, releasing her hand to grasp her head, holding her still. "With you." Licking the corner of her mouth, he pressed his mouth to hers. "Only you."

He felt her frown under his lips. "What, like we're dating?" she chuckled, pulling free long enough to speak and take a breath before resuming kissing him. Her unoccupied hand lowered to press against his balls, then took them in hand and gently cupped them. Her other hand tightened on him and he groaned, bucking his hips forward. The material of his trousers was soft and rough, creating friction where he needed it. Doing her job for her.

That couldn't be allowed.

He tore his mouth from hers and spun them around. Her hands released him, grabbing his hips to steady herself. Missing the contact, he hurriedly walked her backward toward the bedroom, fingers fumbling with the hem of her blouse. Yanking it over her head, he tossed it aside and immediately grabbed for the waistband of her jeans. Her stomach muscles tightened at the contact.

"Exactly like we're dating," he mumbled, drawing her closer and slipping his fingers under the button. Ripping it open, he undid the zip, then stopped as his hand flattened against her stomach. Catching her eye, he breathed heavily a few times before getting the words out. "No more pretty boys. No Mickeys. No Jacks. No Adams and Elvis'. We shag," he told her, sliding his hands up her sides to her breasts, then stopped himself from touching more of her before getting the words out, "and there's no one else for you. Or me. Just you."

"Just you," she agreed, kissing him and grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, dragging it from the waistband of his trousers. "You know, you're a bit demanding when you're turned on." The ends of his shirts left his trousers, hanging loose at his sides. She worked at the small buttons, fingers fumbling with each one.

He tilted his head to the side, considering her words. "I think I am." His voice came out in a growl and he felt her shiver against him. Oh! Grinning, he shoved her against the wall and pressed his body against hers, holding her there with a knee between her legs and his erection pushing into her stomach. "I know I am. The things I want to do to you, Rose Tyler." He darted his head down, licking the side of her neck, tasting her soap and sweat and arousal with a bit of smoke and Elvis' cologne mixed in.

Something in the Doctor wanted to douse her in his scent. Wanted her to smell like him and sex and her. He wanted to tear her clothes off and shag her hard.

When her mouth settled near his ear, and her words drifted to him in an excited whisper, his whole body trembled. "And I want you to do them."

Hands on her bare stomach, he roughly dragged his palms up and cupped her breasts over her bra. He wasn't able to do much with it in his way, so he shoved the simple white material up and over her fleshy mounds. Rose sighed when skin touched skin, eagerly reaching behind her back to unfasten the clasp and take it off, while he busied his mouth and hands with her breasts. He flicked a pebbled nipple with his thumb, sucking the other one into his mouth before biting down and then soothing it with his tongue.

Her hips arched into him, seeking friction in the one place he'd been neglecting. "I really want you to do them, Doctor."

"Mmm," he growled, pushing back so she was against the wall again. "Wicked girl." A thrill of excitement raced through him when she licked her lips and then bit the lower one, eyes on him the entire time. "Tease."

Nails scraped his stomach as his button-shirt was pushed aside and shoved partially off his shoulders along with his jacket. She was divesting him of his clothes, but he didn't want that, not yet. He wanted to see her first. Wanted her bared to his gaze.

He stepped back far enough to stop her, grabbed her wrists with tight fingers, and stared into her eyes. She was as aroused as he was. The brown of her pupils were nearly black, her gaze heavy-lidded. And she looked like he felt; like she wanted to jump him and shag him until they burned to cinders.

A whimper escaped her and she tried to pull free, but he shook his head and yanked her to him. Mouths centimeters apart, he dipped down and tasted her. "Mangos and kiwi." Sucking on her lower lip, he bit it, then let go. "I want you to taste of me." Not just taste, he thought. He wanted her to smell of him. To feel all of him buried so deep inside her that they felt like one being, one creature.

Letting her wrists go, he swooped back in and kissed her, hard and hungry. Desire pooled in him, sweeping him up in a cyclone of emotions and tossing him around like bits of paper on the wind, leaving him breathless and dizzy.

Her jeans, wide open, called to his hands and they obeyed. Flattening his palm on her stomach again, he slid it down, into her knickers, feeling the heat of her skin permeate his own. The soft curly hairs tickled his fingers as he threaded through them, going even lower. Sliding a single finger down into her wet folds, he felt her head drop against his shoulder as he lightly touched her clit.

Hips jerking forward, she moaned and clutched his arms, breath whispering across his neck. "Doctor." There was a need in her voice that he relished.

The second she began pushing at his jacket and shirts again, he ripped his mouth and hands away from her. "Ah-ah," he tutted, backing away and examining her. She was plastered against the wall, one leg bent, the other supporting her, both hands curled by her sides.

He'd never seen her looking more beautiful than now; her hair was wild and unkempt, eyes half-closed and filled with desire for him. Shirt off, bra gone, bared to his gaze just as he wanted her. Her breasts jiggled lightly with every deep breath she took, the nipples pebbled and hard. He re-examined his earlier thought that her mouth was made for more than just talking, laughing, and kissing.

Oh, it definitely was.

His cock was hard now, fully erect, and his trousers were beginning to feel more than a little constricting. Unfastening them, he lowered the zip, and freed himself.

Rose's eyes dropped to his hands as he slowly stroked his shaft.

He watched her reactions as he encircled himself, sliding up toward the tip, teasing himself with his thumb, before moving back down toward the base, fingers cupping his balls.

She was swallowing thickly, eyes glued to his cock, licking and biting at her lips. One of her hands drifted to her thigh, scraping her nails against the rough material of her jeans before moving higher to slip inside her knickers, closer to her wet heat.

Shaking his head, he halted the movement with a chastising look. "No."

He wanted her to touch herself, just not this time. Not tonight. He was too close to the edge already and he knew that if he watched her finger herself, watched her slide her-- groaning, he squeezed his cock and strode purposefully over to her.

She pushed away from the wall at the same time, meeting him halfway. Grabbing her by the arms, he drew her to him for a fast, hard kiss. He devoured her mouth with lips and tongue, wanting to taste every last inch of her, to slide his tongue along every bit of her.

But that was for later.

Right now, he'd have to settle for just the basics, unless he wanted to come like a teenager touching himself for the first time. Kneeling before her, he pulled both her jeans and knickers down at the same time. Unable to stop himself, he reached up a hand to caress the curve of her arse, slipping a finger from his other hand between her legs to wet it. "Take them off," he ordered, standing back and watching her as he licked his finger.

She bent over and hastily kicked off her trainers and socks, then yanked the blue material free, taking her knickers with them.

Naked now, she moved forward, eyes dropping to his mouth, watching heatedly as he popped his finger free and licked his lips. She tasted divine. "On the bed."

There was a small amount of doubt in her eyes, he could see, a little uncertainty with his sudden demands. He was acting very unlike himself. But this is what he wanted. This was how he wanted. And who.

This body was aggressive when it was aroused. And he liked that. Seeing her swallow thickly and dart a look at his cock, he knew she liked it too.

She perched herself on the end of the bed, sitting stiffly, nervously, awaiting his next move.

"No," he decided, not liking that at all. He had an idea of what he wanted, but this wasn't it. "On the bed," he repeated, loosening his tie and pulling it over his head.

White teeth came out to nibble her bottom lip again and he had to fight the urge to give her something far better to do with them. His fingers clenched around the circle of his tie and he considered tying her up with it, binding her hands above her head and securing it at the headboard, spreading her body to his hands and gaze.

Leaving her vulnerable before him. Did she trust him enough? He wasn't sure, but that was for another time.

Heated eyes on his, she pushed herself further up the bed until her legs were straight before her. Resting her weight on her elbows, she cocked an eyebrow at him. "Better?"

His eyes ran over her naked body at the same time as hers ran over his fully clothed one. Well, mostly clothed. His tie was in hand, hanging from the loop, ends trailing on the floor. His cock was out and erect. Brown dress shirt unbuttoned and open. He was thoroughly rumpled, hair as well as clothes.

Rose pressed her legs together and shifted under his gaze. "Kind of unfair."

Dropping his tie to the floor, he moved to the bed and crawled over her, pressing a single kiss to a calf, another to her knee, one more to her thigh and then her hip. Her eyes followed his progress, body shuddering with each touch of his lips to her warm flesh. They should've done this months ago. Years ago. Hovering over her stomach, he bent down to lick and nip at her skin. She lifted her hand to cradle the back of his head, threading her fingers through his hair as she arched up and closer to his mouth, seeking more of his lips and tongue.

Her other hand was on her breast, playing with the nipple, pinching it and scraping her nails along the tender flesh.

Brushing her hand aside, he leaned down and flicked the nipple with his tongue, then sucked it into his mouth. A whimper escaped her parted lips and he suddenly knew exactly what he wanted. Biting her nipple lightly, teasingly, he crawled up the rest of her body and kissed her hard. "Turn over."

Her eyes flew to his, voice breathless when she asked, "What?"

Distracted by his hand running down her hip and around the curve of her bum, he repeated his words.

"I-- I don't want..." she began, sounding nervous again.

Glancing at her, he frowned, trying to understand what could have made her-- oh. Chuckling, he smoothed his hand lower, along the back of her thigh. "Neither do I." Sliding both hands between her legs, he encouraged her to open them, helping to spread them just wide enough to slip a finger inside her wet folds. A groan slipped past his lips and he closed his eyes at the feel of her. She was so hot and wet that he wanted nothing more than to be inside of her. "This," he told her huskily, "is the only place I want to be right now."

Her smile turned into a moan as he slipped in another finger. "Kinda wantin' you there too," she said tightly, hips rising up to meet his fingers.

He stilled his hand in her.

She growled and grabbed the back of his head with her hands, pulling him down until their lips were centimeters away. "Now, Doctor." Her mouth assaulted his, urgent and violent, all tongues and lips and teeth. One hand dropped from his head and scraped down his neck, causing him to shudder in excitement. "Can't wait anymore."

Apparently she had a little aggression in her as well, and he'd like to explore that side of things sometime, just not now.

Pulling away from her, he knelt between her legs and grabbed her left calf. Sliding impatient hands down the smooth skin, he ignored her frustrated growl and bent her leg at the knee. She grinned impudently and sat up, grabbing his cock and stroking it quickly once, then again before he halted her hand.

It felt good, better than good. It was fantastic, but he wanted her tight flesh surrounding him, not her fingers. Pressing his fingers to her chest, he gently nudged her back, raising an eyebrow when she resisted. "Rose..."

She gave an eyeroll and flopped back on the bed, bouncing a bit, causing her breasts to jiggle tantalizingly. "Never thought you'd get off on ordering people around."

"Not people." Tearing his eyes from her breasts, he placed her left leg with her right. "Just you, right now. Oh, Rose, I'm discovering that I like to be in control during sex." Running a finger along the arch of her foot, he stared back at her. "No, that's not right. It's not control... it's aggression. I want-- I--" not sure what he was trying to say, he sighed. "This body, it wants. And what it wants most of all, what it craves, is you."

He could see her eyes growing darker as desire swirled around in her. "Better not become a habit," she blustered, though the words sounded more breathless than threatening.

He grinned and leaned down across her again. "Over."

She didn't resist this time. Turning to her stomach, she climbed onto all fours and looked back over her shoulder, waiting. "I feel like an idiot like this," she mumbled.

"You don't look like one." He liked her arse. It was nicely shaped--he traced a hand down the curve to her thigh--and nicely sized too. He leaned down to kiss the flesh where it met her back. But that's not where he wanted to be. Tracing her bum, he slipped a hand between her legs again and dipped his fingers into her wet heat. Her muscles clenched and quivered as he stroked two fingers inside her, creating a slow, sensuous friction. Pushing back against his hand, she whimpered and began to rock into him.

Pulling his fingers free, he spread her fluids over his shaft, stroking himself a few times in preparation, though he didn't need it; his cock was practically dancing on its own, it was so excited. Snickering to himself at the thought, he grabbed Rose's bum and moved closer, lining up his cock with her entrance.

She sucked in a breath and pushed back again, eager to encase him. "Please, Doctor."

Feeling a powerful, primitive instinct go through him, he pushed into her quickly and with no thought other than needing to be inside her. Her heat and slick flesh sheathed him, immediately clamping down to keep him there, to provide friction, and they both groaned.

"Rose," he muttered, gritting his teeth every time she squeezed around him. "You feel so... ah, ah..." she was pushing back, encouraging him to move. Giving up on trying to talk, he grabbed her hips and began to thrust, creating a pace that started to satisfy the needs of his body. Fingernails digging into her flesh, he drove into her, rocking against her bum, burying himself as deep inside as he could with long, quick strokes.

She was panting and looking forward now, hands clawing the covers beneath them. "God," she hissed, drawing out the word with a grunt, straining back against him. "Doctor, that-- oh, yeah."

Slamming into her, flesh meeting flesh, he listened to her half words and grunts and whimpers with a satisfied smile that slipped with every thrust. Pleasure was pounding through him and his cock felt every squeeze, every shift of her body, every sound she made, and it only made him want more. Releasing his right hand with difficulty, knowing he'd leave bruises and nail marks behind, he flattened his hand on her upper back, pressing down, urging her lower.

He could see that her arms were shaking, straining under the weight of holding herself up while he pistoned into her. She gratefully collapsed her upper body, slowing his rhythm while she adjusted herself. Her hand grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and pulled it under her arms to support them. He waited, buried inside her, slipping further with every inch she lowered.

A guttural noise was ripped from his throat as he was seated deeper in her clinging, wet heat. He opened his mouth to ask if she was ready again, but all that came out were panting breaths. Licking his lips, he leaned over her and tried again. "Ready?" His voice was hoarse and raw, sounding exactly like he felt. "God, Rose, please say you're ready again." Lips pressing to her shoulder blade, he reached one arm around her to rub her clit and rested his other hand on her stomach.

"Yes," she breathed, voice muffled a little by her arms and the pillow. Her hips shifted, making him groan as pleasure licked through his cock. She pressed back into him, urging him on. "Doctor." Her voice was impatient and he chuckled at hearing it.

Holding her tight with one hand on her waist, he clumsily continued to rub her clit, wanting to bring her as close as possible before giving in to the urge to thrust again. His fingers and her flesh were sticky and he kept slipping from his goal. Rose knocked his hand aside and rubbed herself.

"Got it," she panted, shoving her hips back forcefully to get him to move, then jerking forward when her fingers began their magic, not just on her clit, but on his length as well.

He held her hips tight to him, feeling the warm, rounded flesh of her bum against his abdomen. Her attempts at movement created a rocking motion that did little for either of them, so he held her still and moved out, then slid slowly back in, feeling her muscles contracting tighter in preparation of orgasm. Her hips strained forward, into her hand, and then backward, into him. The deep, rich feeling of being inside of her was almost a sensation-overload on its own, but when she began to whimper with each thrust, he felt that primal urge rear up inside of him once more.

He wanted to make her come. He wanted her to scream as she came. He needed her to do so. Felt it like a burning cinder inside his chest, driving his motions, forcing him to thrust into her harder. His movements were becoming wild, hips bucking erratically, making him slip free of her.

Cool air hit his cock and he grunted in frustration as he held himself in position and entered her again, driving home with short thrusts. He was making animalistic grunts deep in his throat, unable to stop as he moved harder and faster, sheathing himself over and over again in her center.

"Rose," he urged, not sure if she was going to come before he did. He felt she was close, but he was rapidly losing control. Baring his teeth, he rocked into her, nearly knocking her off balance. His hands were sweating, losing their grip on her waist.

She panted out a sound that might've been a word, but he couldn't tell over his own strained breathing.

"Rose." Her name came out a chant as he drove into her with rhythmic thrusts. It was all he could hear in the near silence of the room. And then her fingers slid from her clit to his balls, cupping them clumsily, squeezing and loosening and dragging her fingers over the flesh. He couldn't hold it in any longer. His hips jerked into hers, straining to bury himself inside of her, as deeply as possible, as far as he could.

He came with a fierce grunt, hips bucking against her backside.

Her fingers squeezed his balls one last time, sending heat and fire rocketing through him. Spasms shot through his cock in wave after wave of ecstasy as he reared up and drove even deeper.

Rose's muscles clenched on him brutally, milking him of every last drop as she rocked back against him. She let out a string of sounds, gasps and grunts and hisses of pleasure, then she collapsed to the bed, his softened cock slipping free, making both of them groan.

Dropping to the bed beside her, breathing heavily, he rolled over and dragged her to him. His slightly sticky body stuck to her skin, sending a warm, comforting feeling through him.

Chest rising and falling a bit more than after a full-out run, headlong into rampaging alien hordes, he looked down at Rose, seeing she was in just as bad a shape. She curled her body against his and tilted her head up with a grin, resting her head on him. Her warm breath created a soft breeze on his neck, drying his sticky, wet skin.

"You gonna be like that every time?" she asked, tracing a finger around his left nipple.

Scrunching the pillow beneath his head so that he could watch her hand better, he shrugged. "I don't know. Probably not." Raising an eyebrow her way, he asked, "You gonna like it every time?"

Her eyes drifted from her finger to his face. "I don't know." Her grin widened just before she leaned down to kiss his chest between his hearts. "Probably not."

Yeah, he couldn't say as he'd be pleased if she continually took charge during their lovemaking. Every once in a while, sure, but not every time. There was something to be said about variety. Staring up at the plain white ceiling above them, he considered his aggressive behavior earlier. "I think maybe it was more a product of the situation, the entire night, rather than just my reaction to sex. And you. Well," he drawled, tightening his arm around her, "my reaction to you was quite strong, but it was mostly the night, I think. The frustration of the evening. I say mostly, but I mean half. Maybe? Probably a good deal of it was--"

"Your jealousy," she said with a snort of laughter, body shaking against his.

"I was not--" he began, lifting his head to glare down at her. "There was no... I was not jealous. That, back there, with the-- I was annoyed. Not jealous."

"Oh, right," she snickered. "That's why you spent the entire time glaring at me and Elvis. Even when aliens were bootin' you off their machines, and little blue-haired old ladies were spillin' drinks on you," she pointed at his chest, poking him with each successive word, "you. Were. Jealous."

Grabbing her finger to stop its poking, he threaded his fingers with hers and dropped his head back to the pillow. "That wasn't a little blue-haired old lady. That was a Wominlur, a species of professional thieves. And you saw all that?" Sniffing sharply, he tried to keep the pout out of his voice, but he wasn't sure he succeeded. "Thought you were too wrapped up in Elvis bloody Presley."

She had the gall to laugh again, turning her face into his chest. "Since when do you say 'bloody'?"

"Since you were hanging all over him, touching him at every opportunity, and that is not jealousy, so don't even say it."

Propping her chin on her hand, she stared at him until he flicked his gaze her way, and then returned his eyes fully to her. Her smile was gone, all traces of mirth vanished. "Didn't want Elvis. Didn't spend all night thinking I'd rather be with Elvis than you. Right here, with you. Well," she considered, looking over her shoulder at the TARDIS, off to the side of the door, "maybe in the TARDIS." Lips curving up again, she returned her dancing gaze to his. "Or in a sewer pipe. Perhaps in an alien church... or at a caveman orgy."

He grinned happily and kissed her forehead.

"Mmm," she mumbled, smacking her lips to his chest again. "You're all warm. And sticky." She pushed away from him and ran her eyes over his body in concern, as if he were going to drop dead at any moment. "Are you all right? Not ill are you? Some weird alien disease or something?"

Feeling completely offended, he drew her back down to his chest and glared at her. "I was-- there was a lot of exertion. And sometimes, yes, sometimes, even Time Lords sweat and their body temperatures rise."

She grinned cheekily. "And they pant like they've just run a marathon?"

"Yes, they..." clearing his throat in annoyance, he tapped his finger against her nose. "Best watch it, or I'll cut your sex-time down to four times a week. Missy."

She leaned up and held a hand to his forehead. "You gonna be able to do it that often, old man?"

"Oi!" Hugging her to him, he rolled her over onto her back and hovered over her, resting his weight on his bent arms. "I'll have you know that I am quite virile. And... and not an old man. Nine-hundred isn't old." Now he was definitely whining.

"I don't know," she said with a frown, biting her lip as she trailed her hands down his biceps. "Maybe we should stop and pick up some of that P'Teryn wine. You may need the help."

Now it was his turn to snicker at her. "Wouldn't help any. Doesn't affect me."

"Liar. I was there, remember?" Her right leg bent at the knee and her foot lifted to run along his calf, then his thigh, and then just a little higher. She pressed him down on her, holding him in place with a well-toned leg, made so from so much running. He was very grateful for the running. "I felt you." Her head rose up and her teeth nipped at his ear before she whispered, "You were hard."

He managed to keep from shuddering at her tone and the feel of her wrapped around him. "I was." If she didn't stop teasing him, he'd be hard again. Right here. Right now.

She dropped her head back to the pillow, looking confused. "But, you just said--"

Now it was his turn to play with her neck, making her shiver. Running his tongue lightly along her skin, tasting the mingled flavors of her sweat and arousal, he rested his pelvis against hers. "The wine didn't make me that way. That was all you."

She scoffed and drew away, looking into his eyes. "Was not."

Well, his seduction was having slightly less of an affect than hers had. That was disappointing. "Do you have any idea what it was like knowing what you were feeling, what you were going through? Knowing what your body was doing?" He raised his eyebrows at her, remembering that night. "And the noises you were making. I wanted to shag you right then, just to hear you make those sounds some more. And every night afterward." He grinned. "You have quite the starring role in my fantasies, Rose."

"Really?" she asked, looking like she was ready to smack him if he denied it. "You're not just saying that because you don't want me to think your 'superior physiology' isn't so superior after all?"

"Really." He pressed his lips to hers, kissing her slowly, softly. No rush, no urgency. Just a simple kiss that, he hoped, told her how he felt. How much he... cared about her.

Her leg--still curled around him--tightened on his thigh and her arms pushed him back as she twisted her body so that they came to rest side-by-side, facing one another. "Got you right where I want you," she whispered, stifling a yawn that threatened to crack her jaw.

He chuckled, feeling a fondness go through him at the sight. Oh, he was definitely lost. "Go to sleep," he murmured, pressing a kiss against her forehead.

"'m fine," she protested, snuggling into him, making herself more comfortable.

Running his fingers through her hair, he waited, listening to her quiet breathing as she drifted off. Three minutes and forty-three seconds later, she was asleep. He smiled and smoothed the fallen hair from her face. She was beautiful even in sleep, he thought. And perfect. And his. That-- that still surprised him.

Her hand curled against his stomach and she sighed as she shifted, mumbling something against his chest. Leaning down, he held his breath, waiting to hear her again. "Mmm, not the... keep it." Grinning at the inanity of her words, he began to lie back when she smacked her lips and said, "Love you... Doctor."

He jerked back, staring down at the sleeping woman beside him. Did she... had she just-- kissed him in her sleep? He snorted with laughter, but then stopped abruptly when her unreserved words sank in. She loved him? Real and proper loved him? The way a man loves a woman, or a man loves a man? Or a woman a woman... neither here nor there, he chastised himself, feeling his chest tighten as his feelings for Rose swirled around inside him.

Rose Tyler loved him. Loved him, the Doctor. Aggression and all, jealousy and all... well, no, he hadn't been jealous. Scoffing to himself, he rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms tightly around Rose, pressing her into his chest. All right, he had been jealous. So extremely jealous of Elvis blood Presley that he'd turned all that jealousy into primal lovemaking. Well. Not that she hadn't liked it. But still. He needed to watch that.

Hugging her as tightly as he could before bending down to kiss her cheek, he whispered, "I love you too, Rose Tyler."