A/N: There's a funny custom in America, and maybe in England, too, about two words you add to the end of a fortune from a fortune cookie.

Fortune Cookie

"Shh," the Doctor whispers, gliding his tongue slowly up the inside of Rose's thigh. "Not a sound, now, not one word." He breathes that last across her center and looks up just in time to see her teeth fasten tight over the usual gasp. "Brilliant," he murmurs.

Every time he touches her like this, she seems as surprised as she is delighted. Right now, her whole body is practically vibrating for him, her fists clenched, her eyes squeezed closed. Before he's even begun to tease her like he plans, her hips are shifting ever so slowly, setting a rhythm for what's to come.

Most of the time, the Doctor says nothing about any of this, just dives into that fascinating taste that is heady with spice and musk and sex and Rose. He can usually taste himself on her, too, and the feelings it inspires in him are no longer alien but still wonderful.

"You're so beautiful down here," he murmurs, this time. He licks her then, from her slit to her clit. "Taste gorgeous," he adds. Rose whimpers. The Doctor nips lightly at the quivering, risen bud, a small punishment. "Not a sound," he orders sternly.

He trails away from the magic button, knowing she wants him to press it and drive her over quickly. He won't, because… well, it's a long story, but he won't.

"I like doing this to you, you know. Like the way you taste and smell, how you get all slick and wet for me." He dips his tongue inside her, swirls it around, grins when she presses closer with a sharp thrust of the hips. "Like to have you at my mercy like this, making you writhe for me…" He sucks hard at her clit to get her to do just that, ride his mouth trying to get the friction she needs.

"I'd say something about how you swear at me," he adds, licking her thoroughly, up one side and down the other. "But you're supposed to be quiet."

Rose is making sweet, desperate sounds, like panting, only with tiny whines at the end of each breath. The Doctor gets up and crawls over her body. On hands and knees above her at last, he bends to stop the noise. Rose stops biting her lip when he licks it, and opens her mouth for him, drawing air in so fast it chills his damp lips.

He molds his mouth over hers, finding exactly the right angle and tilt to give her one of those kisses that usually makes her moan into his mouth. He strokes her tongue with his, teases her in all the ways he's found that make her make sweet, beckoning noises. He's a complete bastard and he knows it, playing with her like this when he's told her not to make a sound.

She's got a leg up around his skinny hip, and her fingers caught tight in his hair when he pulls back to go down on her again. She's rubbing herself hard against his erect penis, coating him in those sticky, slick juices, letting him know she's more than ready.

He wasn't done. He looks down to tell her so, but there's hunger in her eyes and her lips part. He knows, just knows, that if he lets her, she'll plead with him, actually beg him this time. He's never made her do that before, and he's almost shocked at his body's jolt of arousal over just the idea.

He lays it aside for later. Maybe much later. Rose's sweet invitation is making his cock twitch, making the hardness and the not-being-inside-her-ness almost unbearable (he thinks there might be a real word for that, but he doesn't care). He distracts himself by leaning down and sucking at the jutting peak of her right nipple. (Her left breast is his secret favorite, but he's trying to distract himself, after all.)

Rose gasps as he nips lightly at the pretty pearl crowning her pebbled, dusky-rose areola. Her back arches and her hips push hard toward him and the Doctor loosens a hand from supporting himself to put it over her mouth. "Not a word!" he reminds her sharply.

She glares at him and he expects her to bite his hand. "Don't," he cautions, unable to resist the grin. He wiggles his hips. "You want this, don't you?"

She opens her mouth. He shifts his hand to put just a finger over her lips, and she licks it. The Doctor stares at her, wide eyed, almost as shocked as he is delighted, as Rose sucks his finger into her mouth. It feels erotic and suggestive all at once, and when she swirls her tongue around the sensitive skin where it joins back to his hand, the Doctor hears a squeaky whimper escape, and it isn't from Rose. They've been lovers for a while now, but they both still manage to surprise each other with new things.

The need to have her is just too much. She grins around the finger she's nipping at now, as if she knows exactly what she's done. The Doctor smirks back. "Hush now," he whispers, and bends to lick the salt of her sweat from her throat.

The Doctor pushes into her with a sound that is part growl and part sigh of relief. Rose throws her head back, but there's only silence from her, where she would normally cry out, and he finds he misses the sound. Her body trembles just the same, even with her teeth locked on her lip, and it's incredible that she's willing to do this for him just because he wants her like this.

"Rose," he whispers, because there's nothing better at all to say at a moment like this. "Rose, oh Rose… you're so…" Entire vocabularies of several languages flit through his head, trying to suggest the right word. "Rose," he moans at last, no better description, really. He withdraws and slides into her again, relishing the heat and humanity of her, the slickness and tightness and...

She shifts her hips, slides her leg up to trace the back of his thigh with her toes. The Doctor grins down at her, then gasps as he thrusts into her again, deeper this time, the tip of his cock brushing her cervix.

"Love…" he groans. "That. Just love the way you feel." He finds a rhythm, in and out and rapid and steady, like his heartbeats, like running. "Love this. Making love. Shagging." She bites her lip again as he watches and the Doctor grins. He lowers his voice. "Fucking," he says, and knows it hits her hard from the way she speeds their movements.

Rose had admitted once, with an excited blush that the Doctor just adored, that she loved to hear him reduced to swearing during sex, so he punctuates the one word with an absolute litany of filth. "Fucking like this. Wild. Like animals. Balls deep in your sweet little cunt…" He babbles every nasty word that comes to his lips, describes every sensation, every taste and smell. He might have continued forever, but Rose let a tiny little sound escape.

"Bad Rose," he chides. The only punishment he's capable of exacting at the moment is stopping. He pulls out of her, stares down into her wild eyes. His body and hers are both protesting, and with a sob he gives in and thrusts back into her. He strokes hard and fast, until he feels he's going to… Slows back down, has to postpone this.

"Sometimes lose my train of thought," he admits, talking to distract himself. "Supposed to be saving the world and all I can think about is this. You." He pauses, fully sheathed inside her, extending the moment for as long as he can take it without coming. "Us," he grunts, as he pulls back again.

She twines her hands through his hair again, her beautiful face a mask of concentration as she pulls him down for a kiss. He knows why – she's getting close. He can feel it in the way her rhythm is getting wild and clumsy. He can't help but match her. They're going together this time, he knows it, feels it, wants it, needs needs needs it…

Her keening cry of release is caught on his lips, lost in his triumphant noise as her body spasms around him and against him. His balls tighten and the pleasure tears through him, wiping even his Time Lord mind clear of everything but the single, frozen moment of heat and perfect ecstasy. He comes with a last gasping whimper.

"I think she was wrong," the Doctor says to the ceiling above their bed.

"She who?" Rose asks. She looks up from her position across his chest and her eyes are starting to shift from dazed and pleasure drunk to amused and baffled. He loves the way a freshly tumbled Rose looks, but a completely confused freshly tumbled Rose is unbelievably brilliant.

"Emily Post," he explains. Well, he says 'explains', but what he means is 'baffles further' and 'heads for annoying'.

"Oh, what's Miss Manners had something to say about this time?" Rose asks instead. She catches onto him more and more often, but she still lets him play his little games with her.

The Doctor grins and turns to lean on an elbow, so he can kiss Rose on the nose. "That was the advice in the fortune cookie."

Rose grins, his very favorite grin, and looks like he's just suggested a whole new adventure. "You're following a fortune cookie's advice on something?" she asks gleefully. "Can I help?"

"That's just it, the advice was wrong. 'Brilliant men and women who love to talk want hearers, not rivals.'" He shrugs his free shoulder. "I didn't want you any more or less when you were made to listen, just now."

Rose stares at him, her eyes narrowed. The Doctor can see the little connections firing in her head, and it is one of his favorite things to watch, her tiny expressions as they shift from confused to connecting to delighted to… "What?" She looks thoroughly exasperated now, and he wasn't expecting that one, so he has to ask.

"You don't have to put those last two words on the fortunes, Doctor," Rose says.

Caught. Trapped like a Time Lord in the buff - weeellll, actually trapped as a Time Lord in the buff, but that's not what he means, although… He knows his expression is quite sheepish when Rose gives him that look that lets him know she's already forgiven him before she can even blame him.

"But, for the record," she adds, "that is so the last time Jack gets to go with you to get Chinese takeaway."