Disclaimer: Doctor Who owns my soul, I own nothing.
Thanks To: Amberfocus and Bananasandroses for the beta
Author's Notes:
Written for Sinecure for her birthday.

"It's sticky," Rose whine-whispered in the Doctor's ear, her voice just barely audible over the blaring adverts from the screen in front of them. Her warm breath wafted over his cooler-than-human skin.

He shuddered, his body tingling at the nearness of her. She was close, so very close; with her kissable lips and delectable tongue. Certainly the tip was poking out just that little bit. From between her teeth. Teeth that were perfectly suited to nipping and biting and scraping along tender, wanting flesh.

"Doctor," she hissed, and he knew he was doing it again. Knew he was losing his focus, letting his mind wander down wholly inappropriate paths. He'd been doing that a lot lately and it was all utterly and completely her fault, his little tease of a companion. Especially when she insisted on wearing outfits so utterly and completely inappropriate.

Like jeans and a hoodie. Or a thick winter coat, with a scarf and mittens completing the ensemble.

Or entirely too-short dresses, like the one she was wearing now. The definitely inappropriate little slip of a thing she'd chosen for their night out on the town. It was so short the hem danced tantalizingly mid-thigh, making whisper-soft sounds with every movement. Sounds that were--despite his best efforts to ignore them--driving him completely mental. It was so transparent, so paper thin, that if they were on any one of the twelve inhabited moons of Bioxarco, she'd be arrested, not even given the decency of a trial, then imprisoned for life with absolutely no possibility of early release for good behavior.

Luckily they were on Earth, not Bioxarco.

A sharp, stinging pain on his arm forced his thoughts back to the here and now. The here: an empty, darkened theater, where he'd brought her after dinner at a nice, proper restaurant. The now: Rose giving him a decidedly put-upon look, tinged with the slightest bit of disgust at the less than ideal seating arrangements.

"The seat is sticky," she repeated slowly, as if she were speaking to a child, pointing at the accused chair next to him.

"So it is." One hand snaked around to the back of his neck, ruffling the hair there. "I, ah--"

"I'm not sitting on some brat's spilt cola." She straightened up, hands resting firmly on her hips, and waited.

"Good idea, that. Not sitting on it. But not-not sitting on it," he rambled, unsure of why, exactly, she was telling him this. "Full of nasty little germies, that. And not at all pleasant to sit on I'm sure. Especially with that dress--a dress, any dress. Any not-dress too. But especially with a dress. Legs all bared to the stickiness of the...ah..."

And his mind was off again. Imagining all sorts of sticky substances her legs could be bared to. Spread for. Saturated with.

She smacked his shoulder in a manner reminiscent of her mother. And if that image couldn't turn him off--which it didn't--he didn't know what could. "I wanna switch rows," she told him, nodding her head toward the front of the theater.

Well, that was easy enough. Except...that it wasn't. "Now, why would I want to do that?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "Best seats in the house. Not too close, not too far away. Optimum acoustics--"

"We're in the back row."


"Back row, Doctor," she sighed. "Can't get further from the screen than this."


"And the sound's a bit dodgy."

"It is not!" It was. But he couldn't exactly tell her that.

Just like he couldn't tell her the truth about how this evening out, just the two of them, without an alien invasion in sight, had been less about a break from their dangerous lives and more about spending time with her. Couldn't...wouldn't tell her that all night he'd been enveloping himself in her scent--vanilla and spice and Rose--that he'd been drowning himself in the steady beat of her heart, that he could taste her in the air--pheromones and hormones and...

He wanted to make her moan.

No, he couldn't tell her those things. Just like he couldn't tell her that he was hard beneath his pinstripes. Hard for her and everything she had that he wanted.

"So we gonna move then?"

"Nope." He studiously avoided looking at her, watching the dancing snacks on the screen instead. "I'm gonna stay right here. You...you can move if you'd like. Got the whole theater to choose from." He waved his hands in the direction of the rows upon rows of empty seats spread out before them. "Pick of the litter you could say." Flashing her a grin, he hoped she wouldn't notice just how uncomfortable he'd become with this whole situation.

"But..." And in that one, single syllable word, her tone changed from one of frustration to confusion and...yes, there was hurt there as well.

He hadn't meant for that to happen, didn't really want to sit separately from her, but--

"I don't wanna sit separately."

"We'd hardly be across the theater from one another, Rose, now would we?" he reassured her. "You could sit in front of me." And I could whisper in your ear. "Move one seat over." Still within touching distance. "Hop across the aisle." Where I could still watch you, smell you. "Or you could sit on my lap!"

Wait! What?

Rambling was one thing, this was getting out of hand.

Jerking his head up, the Doctor watched as Rose's gaze flickered forward, across the aisle, then down one seat before returning to his face. She didn't look at his lap, didn't even appear to have noticed his last suggestion, either that or she was ignoring him. Either way, it was a good thing. He'd been running off at the mouth again, and he most certainly had not meant to make that offer. Except in the sense that he had, which didn't make any sense at all.

"You're right," she said finally, smiling.

He breathed a sigh of relief as she started to make her way out of the aisle. For options one or two, his genius mind insisted. And then she slid onto his lap, facing forward, and his breath caught in his throat.

Oh, no. This was bad, very bad. Bad with a capital B. Bad with a capital B. A. D.

Oblivious to the Doctor's growing predicament--and it was growing--Rose scooted more fully onto his lap, warm, soft bum rubbing against him in all the right ways. He bit back a groan when she reached his over-sensitized groin area. There was no graceful way out of this situation, not once she realized--

"Doctor," she questioned, voice full of mirth. "Is that a sonic screwdriver in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

He realized then that there really was no way to deny it. And frankly, at this point, with the feel of her soft bum rubbing against him, he didn't think he even wanted to. Having her this close, feeling the warmth of her body pressed tight to his, he found his control waning, slipping away with each passing moment.

Rose wiggled, grinding her bum further on to his erection, the proof of what she was really sitting on taking her by surprise. "Oh!"

Deciding to throw all caution to the wind, to ignore the logical side of his brain just this once, and take a chance, the Doctor grasped her gently by the upper arms, leaning forward to whisper in her ear. "It's not a sonic screwdriver."

A delicious shudder went through her.

"Which means..." He ran his hands down her goose-bumped flesh, then grabbed her by the waist and pulled her backwards, until she was situated just over his erection. Taking her hand in his, he guided it down to exactly where he wanted, needed, it most. "I am..." he murmured as she dutifully cupped the bulge with a whimper, "most," he bucked up into her, "definitely," and then again, "happy to see you."

The next sound out of her mouth was less a whimper than a moan. Her body slumped back on to his bonelessly, molding them perfectly together, and he took the opportunity to bury his face in her neck, biting and sucking his way to her pulse point, tasting her. Flicking his tongue out, he felt the erratic flutter there, a mirror image of what her heart was doing, and grinned. This may not have been on their itinerary but when did his days ever go to plan?

Her hand was moving on its own now, no longer needing his guidance, rubbing and squeezing, causing the most delectable friction. But he wanted more, damned where they were. Smoothing his hand over her leg, he drew her dress up, inch-by-inch, exposing her to the cooler air of the theater, enjoying the way her muscles twitched beneath and above him.

He was just getting to the good part, could feel the heat from her center radiating out towards him, when she stilled her ministrations, body tensing once more.

"Doctor, I..." She swallowed thickly and he could imagine the difficulty with which she was trying to think through the haze of lust. "It's not that I don't want to. 'Cause I do. But..." she glanced around nervously, "what if we get caught?"

Ah, yes. There was that.

But now that he'd come this far, now that he'd allowed himself the possibility, there was no way either of them was making it out of this theater until he had her.

Besides, the idea of shagging Rose here, in a public place, was far more of a turn on than he would've thought.

Still, there was her modesty to think of and he couldn't just risk...ah ha!

"Stand up," he told her, nudging her forward gently.

Slowly, carefully, she slid off his lap, a sigh of obvious frustration escaping her mouth. Once on her feet, she began to shuffle out of the aisle, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Stay there." He stood up, body pressing tightly to hers in the small, confined space. Every shuddering breath she took, he felt reverberating through his own body as he slipped his coat off his shoulders. It took more than a little control not to bend her over the seat in front of her, shoving her dress out of the way to take her from behind.

The Doctor groaned at the thought. Maybe next time.

Twining his arm around her, he offered up his coat. "Put it over you like a blanket."

"And they say chivalry is dead," she laughed breathlessly, taking it from him.

"It's either that," he cupped a breast in hand and pinched her nipple, listening to her gasp of surprise and pleasure, "or we wait until we get back to the TARDIS." He paused, amending, "Until I can actually make it back to the TARDIS." Thrusting his hips forward, he made sure she felt just how hard he was at that moment, just how incapable he was of going anywhere outside of the darkened theater without being noticed.

Dropping her hands to the seatback in front of her, Rose supported herself on trembling arms. "Right, then," she gasped. "Coat it is."

Chuckling, the Doctor sat back down in his seat, spreading his suit jacket in such a way that he could undo his trousers without giving anyone a show. Not that there was anyone else here to see anything, just him and Rose. Still, if someone popped their head into the room, he didn't really fancy them getting an eyeful of his Time Lord bits.

Button undone, zip lowered, he took himself in hand and looked up at Rose. She was standing there, the lights from the movie silhouetting her form, casting her features in darkness, but he could still clearly see her wide eyes watching him.

"You don't..." her tongue flicked out, wetting her bottom lip, "you don't wear pants?"

"Nope." He grinned, taking in her flushed cheeks and the way her eyes were glazed over with lust. Eyes on her face, he stroked himself a few times, then swiped his thumb over the tip, spreading the drop of moisture there across heated flesh.

Rose's breathing sped up.

"Knickers," he told her, voice low and completely unrecognizable, even to his own ears.


"Knickers. Off. Now."

"Oh!" He'd never have guessed that she could turn redder than she already was, but if there was one thing he could count on from Rose Tyler, it was that she'd always find a way to surprise him. "I, um..." she glanced away, then back again, looking decidedly embarrassed, "I'm not wearing any."

All he could do was stare.

No knickers?

He swallowed thickly, then grinned, seeing her nervous look fade, a smile replacing it. "Oh, that's...that's fantastic." Reaching out, he settled his hands on her waist and lowered her onto his waiting lap so that she was facing the screen again.

It took a few minutes of adjustments before they were properly situated. Her dress needed to be lifted out of the way, his coat draped over the both of them in a way that no bits or bobs were in danger of slipping out for the random passerby to see. Rose, apparently thinking they were going straight for the shagging, tried lowering herself directly onto his length but, finally having her right where he wanted her, the Doctor wasn't so sure he wanted this to end quite that quickly.

"Sit back further," he said, guiding her into the position they'd been in before, when she'd made her declaration of anti-exhibitionism.

After a moan of frustration, she complied, sitting so far back that his cock nestled between her legs, brushing at the edges of her moist curls. She shimmied on his lap trying to find the proper angle to take him inside her right then and there.

"Patience," he whispered in her ear, lightly, tauntingly stroking a finger down her inner thigh. Stopping just short of where she most obviously wanted him, he traced back up the path he'd just made, then repeated the action again. "What's the saying about those who wait?" Dipping further down this time, he grazed over her folds, finding them slick with want, hot with desire.

Far more ready than he'd expected her to be this soon.

"You're such a...tease," Rose gasped, as she pushed forward into his hand. "All--" she swallowed thickly when he flicked lightly at the tight bundle of nerves just above her opening, "all night. You...with the glasses and the...hair." Her hands were fisting in his coat, clenching and unclenching as she squirmed on his lap, trying to find the friction she so desperately wanted, but he kept pulling back at the last possible second, only giving her the lightest of touches.

She was calling him a tease? his mind sputtered, making a sound much like his mouth did when at a loss for words. If she wanted to see teasing, he'd give her teasing.

"Doctor, please," she gasped, body twitching uncontrollably on his. His coat wouldn't be much help in disguising what they were up to if someone happened upon them now.

Not like Rose seemed to care much, what with all the delicious sounds that were escaping, unchecked, from her mouth.

"What, Rose? What do you want?" he asked, continuing to torment her. Increasing the pressure slightly, he stroked her clit, then rimmed the edges of her moist center, teasing her opening with the tips of two fingers before pulling back again, making her groan in frustration, and trying to ignore the feel of her thighs rubbing against his cock as she squeezed them tightly together.

Slithering like a snake, she twisted herself around until her mouth was next to his ear, hot breath puffing over his skin in little bursts. "I want you," she gasped, then nipped at his jawline, quickly soothing it with the tip of her tongue.

The sultry tone of her voice had his eyes closing and a shiver running through him. Yet, he still managed to keep himself in check. Was doing a good job, a fine job of it, indeed, he thought, until she wrapped her hand around his cock, squeezing it gently before stroking up and down in a rhythm that wasn't slow, wasn't teasing, but fast and demanding, and if she kept that up for too long he wouldn't even make it inside of her.

Turning his head to the side, he claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss, lips mashing together awkwardly because of the angle. She didn't seem to mind though as she opened up for him, tongue licking, pressing, demanding entrance. There was nothing he could do but oblige her, and then he was tasting her and she was just as sweet as he'd always imagined she'd be.

Throughout the desperate kiss, Rose continued lavishing attention on his cock. There was a pattern to her ministrations, and if he could actually think straight for a few seconds, he was sure he'd be able to decipher it. As it stood--and it did, stood tall and hard--all he was aware of was how good it felt. She stroked him, squeezed him, with a little twist here, a little twist there, fingers brushing over the tip to spread more moisture down his length. Occasionally, she'd move lower, cupping and fondling, his balls, before returning to the work at hand.

Not wanting to be outdone, the Doctor plunged a finger inside her, felt her muscles quiver around it, then quickly added a second. Crooking them upward, in a come hither motion, he sought out that sweet spot whose existence was still being debated by admirers of the female body the universe over. He knew it was there, knew that if he could just-- Rose gasped, startled, into his mouth and that was all the proof he needed. Thumb brushing over her clit, the Doctor copied the rhythm she'd already started, moving his fingers in and out of her hot opening, paying particular attention, with each stroke to her two most sensitive spots.

Together, they created their own pattern, nearly perfectly in-sync with one another. Slide in, stroke down, curve up, twist here, slide out, stroke up, flick, twist, rinse, lather, and repeat.

When the Doctor added a third finger inside her, Rose ripped her mouth from his, gasping for air. She was moving with him now and he could tell, from the way she was throbbing around his hand, that she was close to coming. She faltered, her own hand stilling on his cock, grip loosened by her fast-approaching orgasm.

The Doctor, sensing victory, increased his pace, slipping his fingers in and out of her faster and faster, applying more pressure to her clit. He brought her right to the edge of pleasure, then stopped just before she could fall over the edge, her moans of frustration echoing in his ears.

"Please," she whimpered, arching up into his now-still hand.

Peppering kisses along her jawline, his lips curved up in a smile. That was a start, but he wanted her to actually say it, wanted to hear her begging him to shag her. "Please what?" He reached up, taking a breast in each hand, pinching her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

Gripping his cock firmly, Rose turned her head, catching his next kiss on her mouth. Adjusting until he slipped inside her swollen folds, the tip of his erection just outside of her opening, she breathed against his lips, "Fuck me," and he came undone.

Hearing those words falling from her lips, the companion he couldn't bear to leave behind, not ever, was tantamount to putting a lit match to dry, gasoline-drenched tinder. He no longer cared about anything else. Not about the reasons he'd held back for so long in the first place. Not about Rose begging, or ushers peeping. Not even about arrest and possible jail time if they were caught.

No, the Doctor only cared about one thing: being inside Rose, deep inside her. Now.

Planting his feet firmly on the sticky theater floor, he thrust his hips up, entering her in one quick, sure stroke. With a moan, low and deep in his throat, he began to move in her, but the awkwardness of their position didn't allow for much leverage and he grunted in frustration. Hips bucking up ineffectually, the Doctor shifted about, trying to find the leverage he needed, but it was no use. The chair, though comfortable enough for watching movies in, was surprisingly not very conductive to shagging.

"This isn't working," he sighed, stilling his movements, hands grasping tightly at the edge of his seat.

Rising up in his lap, Rose moved with a speed that took him by surprise and a flexibility he wouldn't have expected. Somehow, through a twisting of limbs, she managed to turn herself around until she was facing him, keeping him inside her the whole time, and the friction of it all nearly sent him over the edge.

But he held off for her, wanting her to come before he got himself off.

"No, but this will." She grinned and he couldn't help but return it tenfold.

"Rose Tyler, have I told you you're brilliant?"

"Once or twice," she teased, tongue poking out from between her teeth. "But a girl can never get too many compliments."

The Doctor was half-tempted to volley some witty remark back at her, but before he could, she was straddling him, knees scrunched onto the seat between his thighs and the armrests and she began to move. Slowly at first, giving each of them a chance to adjust to each other, she rose and fell on his lap, sliding his cock further into her wet heat with each stroke until finally, finally, he was buried deep inside her.

Pausing briefly, she rested her hands on his shoulders and leaned in to nibble on his lower lip, then suck it into her mouth, before releasing it again with a wet pop. She moaned, licking her lips and watching him through heavy lids. "You taste like bananas and tea."

Darting forward, the Doctor captured her mouth, lavishing on it the same treatment she'd just given his. Then he raised his hand, sliding his sticky fingers into his mouth. Running his tongue over them, he swallowed down every last bit of her flavor.

She couldn't keep her eyes off him, her gaze clouded over as she watched him savoring her taste. He wanted more, wanted to lap her up completely, know--by more than just his fingers--what the whole of her body tasted like. And he wanted her to know his taste as well.

But this wasn't the time or the place for that.

Glancing over her shoulder, the Doctor noted that the movie was coming to an end. Soon the credits would start to roll, the lights would come back on, and staff would come in to clean and ready the theater for the next showing.

Seeing where his attention had focused, and sensing the need for urgency as well, Rose pulled back, sitting more fully in his lap. Hands still resting on his shoulders, she started to move once more. This time with quicker, more urgent thrusts, body rising and falling rapidly above him. Her face scrunched up in concentration, a lock of hair falling in front of her half-closed eyes. Mouth open, she breathed heavily, her cheeks stained, no longer with embarrassment, but desire.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her.

Resting his hands on her waist, the Doctor helped her along, watching as her breasts jiggled inside her dress with each movement. He wanted to touch her more than this. Wanted to rip off her dress and toss it to the side so he could take a nipple into his mouth and suckle on it until it rose to a fine, hard peak. Wanted to smooth his hands over the softness of her belly, over her hips, and around, to knead her perfectly shaped bum.

Wanted to see her completely naked. Above him, below him, alongside him, in front of him, it didn't much matter where. Just as long as she was naked.

Later, he told himself. Then he'd ravish her body.

For now this would have to do. And it did. The feel of her tight, wet walls surrounding him, squeezing his cock, felt good, so good he didn't think he could last much longer. Knew he wouldn't. But he didn't want to come just yet, not until she did.

Not until he got to watch her.

Gasps of air left her, faster now, as her movements became more erratic. She was close too, only needed a little extra push, so he released her waist with one hand, seeking out the little nub of pleasure just above where they were joined. His touch made her moan a whimpered yes, but she didn't stop moving, didn't falter her rhythm.

Circling her clit with his thumb, applying just enough pressure to make her beg for more, he could feel his own orgasm coming. Pleasure coiled in his stomach, shooting down into his balls like lightning, making them tighten and pull up closer to his body.

Rose was above him, gasping his name like he'd fantasized about for so long, and there was no place he'd rather be. "Come for me," he whispered, watching as her gaze found his.

He flicked at her clit faster, twirling around it with a speed that had her falling over the edge, biting her lip to keep from screaming out her pleasure. Her eyes slammed shut, head falling backward, as she arched her back. Still she continued to ride him, to ride out wave-after-wave of pleasure and he could feel it. Could feel it in the tightening of her inner walls, in the throbbing of her clit beneath his thumb.

Lights flashed before his eyes and he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the movie, which was also reaching its climax. The ribbon of pleasure that had coiled so tightly in his balls, finally snapped and released, and he came, his cock spasming as wave after wave of pleasure washed through him. He could feel his warm seed spilling out of him, then dripping down and out of her, trailing a wet, sticky mess into his lap.

Rose dropped bonelessly onto him, resting her cheek on his shoulder as she tried to catch her breath. He wrapped his arms around her, his own breathing a bit less affected than hers. Respiratory bypass systems, it seemed, were good for a lot more than running.

Somehow, through the haze of pleasure and contentment that slowly ran through his blood like molasses, the Doctor became more aware of his surroundings. Noted the extra darkness, the softly playing music, saw, out of the corner of his eye, the credits slowly beginning their scroll across the screen in front of him.

Lifting her head from his shoulder, he kissed her, long and deep, then pulled back, nodding in the direction of the screen. "Time to go, I think." He pressed another quick kiss to her softly curved lips, already imagining all the delectable things he'd do to her once they made it back to the TARDIS.

Without a word, only a slight pouting of her pink, swollen lips, she climbed off his lap, righting her clothes while he quickly put his softening cock back in his trousers, doing up the zip and button. Standing up, he felt something lumpy under his foot.

"Oi," he complained, bending down to grab his coat, forgotten and discarded, on the floor. "It's all sticky now."

Rose laughed, gaze dropping to the seats. "So's the cushion, I think. And you wanted me to sit in that one," she scoffed, sounding a bit offended. "Could be another couple just did what we did. Ew. And I almost sat on it."

Following her up the aisle, coat draped over his arm, the Doctor let his hand trail a path down her back, resting it over her arse. "Care to make other places sticky?" he asked, a twinkle in his eye.