The Doctor watched Rose's mouth work, the pub lights reflecting red off her hair. She extracted a perfectly-tied cherry stem and grinned. The Doctor nodded indulgently. "Where'd you learn that?" he asked.

"One of mum's boyfriends."

"Not surprised."

Rose smirked. "They were very informative. One used to tell me dirty limericks."

"Such as?"

Rose blushed. "I can't tell you."

The Doctor regarded her frankly a moment, then expounded:

There once was a young man from Kent;
Whose cock was remarkably bent.
To save himself trouble, he put it in double,
And instead of coming, he went.

Rose's expression passed gobsmacked several exits back. The Doctor raised a challenging eyebrow.

"How d'you know that?"

"How d'you think? Heard it."

Rose blinked. "I would have sworn you'd never had a dirty thought in your head."

The Doctor's expression gained an affection Rose was used to, and a simultaneous smolder she was not. Her heart stopped in the best way ever.

He spoke simply and softly. "You'd have been wrong."

Rose realized she was gaping like a codfish.

She recovered and smirked, to hide her rioting insides. "You do realize I heard that one when I was six."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows then grinned, challenged. In his best orator's voice:

There once was a man from Bonaire
Who was doing his wife on the stair
When the banister broke
He doubled his stroke
And finished her off in midair

Rose pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. She had her reply.

On the tits of a barmaid named Gayle,
Were tattooed the prices of ale,
And on her behind,
For the sake of the blind,
Was precisely the same, but in Braille.

The Doctor appraised her, his eyes smiling but his expression otherwise a mystery. Rose tried not to show how desperately intrigued she was. The Doctor intoned with a lethal twinkle:

There once was a plumber from Lee
Who was plumbing his girl by the sea
She said 'Stop your plumbing,
There's somebody coming!'
Said the plumber, still plumbing... 'It's me!'

Rose giggled into her hand; the Doctor looked pleased and smug. Rose leaned forward, playfully determined.

There once was a man from Madrass
Whose bollocks were made out of brass
When he'd bang 'em together
They'd play Stormy Weather
And lightning would shoot out his ass

The Doctor looked dangerously close to laughing himself. He leaned quickly into her personal space.

There once was a woman named Jill,
Who swallowed an exploding pill
They found her vagina
In North Carolina
And her tits in a tree in Brazil

Rose burst out laughing, surprise conquering her resistance. The Doctor chuckled too, watching her with that delighted glow he had, the one he reserved just for her. Rose basked a moment, then blushed and leaned back, looking ceilingward to prepare her next salvo.

The Doctor stopped her with a touch on her arm.

When she looked at him, the pure sin in his eyes made the world disappear. He spoke for her ears only:

There was a young woman from space
Whose life had become sadly chaste.
Till one day her mister
Just couldn't resist her
And had to find out how she'd taste.

Rose stared for a long moment, her chest rising and falling. "We're leaving now."

A playful eyebrow. "Are we?" He was teasing, but she thought his breath hitched, too.

He was forced to lurch from his stool, grinning at her determination as she dragged him by the hand toward the door.

As soon as the TARDIS door was closed Rose put her back to it, her hands behind her to hide their shaking. The Doctor stood farther up the ramp, mouth smiling, eyes full of lightning.

"All right, Mr. Dirty Thoughts," she said, cheeky as she could make it, "Prove it. Let me know every dirty thought you've ever had." A quick hesitation. "About me."

The Doctor's tongue played at the corner of his mouth, licked across the top lip to the other corner. "Every one? We could be here for quite some time."

Rose ignored the somersaults in her stomach. "'M not goin' anywhere."

She wondered if his breath had just quickened like she thought it had. They stood silently another moment, till Rose couldn't stand it anymore.

"Whenever I'm standin' close in front of you…" She sauntered up until she was doing just that, watched his nostrils flare. "…it's so hard not to just …" She leaned in and licked the triangle of skin revealed by the v-neck of his jumper, long and slow. He hissed in breath and caught her by the upper arms. She stood on her toes and continued up to the hollow of his throat, instantly drunk on the reality of tasting him.

She started pushing the leather jacket off his shoulders, pulled back to watch her hands work. "And this," she breathed, "this's more'n a jacket, innit? It's a symbol. It means you." Moving the leather had stirred up its smell and she brought it around him and to her nose, inhaling pointedly. "I've always wanted to steal it and wrap m'self in it, wearing nothin' else so I could feel it with every inch of my skin…" She glanced up from under her lashes. "…then make you chase me for it."

She searched his face to see what he thought of that. The Doctor's chest was definitely rising and falling now, but his smile remained smug. "Thought you said you wanted dirty."

Rose blinked. "What's that supposed t'mean?"

"Well, what you said was nice, but it was positively sweet." His finger played with the zip to her hoody. "Not dirty. Good old fashioned filth is…" His eyes met hers. "…animal."

Rose fought a shiver.

"Like the way I feel when you're runnin' down a corridor ahead of me, and suddenly I don't care who's chasing us, all I want to do is—" The Doctor's lip curled and he planted two wide, grasping hands on her arse and hauled her against him. Rose grunted in surprise, while the Doctor's eyes closed and he grunted in something else. "All I want to do is feel that beautiful arse in my hands, use it to move you, make you ride me."

Rose had no idea how she could have so badly misjudged someone in the dirty thoughts department. She let out a shuddering sigh at the thought of riding what she could feel pushed against her pubic bone. She had to rally before he got too far ahead. "D'you think I never contemplate—" she slipped her hands quickly down to his own rear and squeezed, "—your arse?"

The Doctor bit his lip, beaming wickedly. "Or when you wear one of these shirts with a zip up the front and no other shirt underneath…" he continued softly, still playing with the wide silver circle that made up the zipper pull, "…like today…little tease…" His grin was so voracious it was almost frightening. "Can't concentrate on a thing but how just one pull would take me from this…" He yanked down the zip and spread the shirt wide, his hands thrusting in to grab her breasts, "…to this," he breathed.

Rose's head dropped back, mouth open. The Doctor wrenched her bra up over her breasts and met them with his hands skin-to-skin, squeezing and thumbing. Soft grunts and growls escaped through his teeth with each brush of his hands on her.

Rose raised her head with an effort and their eyes met. Their mouths were so, so close.

But somehow, even through the haze or perhaps because of it… they silently agreed on an avoidance of kissing, for now.

It would open up a different kind of floodgate.

So his mouth swooped down to suckle her nipple and she had to grab the back of his soft, bristly head for balance. He continued making hungry little noises against her that reverberated through her chest, down her spine and straight to her throbbing clit.

She let him continue until the point when she would kill to go further…and then stopped him. Anything more and she'd never be able to keep up her end of their competition. She pushed him back and he looked up at her with wet lips and a crooked, growing smile.

She mentally upped her game. You want dirty, old man?

She took him by the arms and bodily moved him over to a place by the console. "Okay, here…here's you…" He watched her in bemusement as she flopped on to the jumpseat. "An' here's me."

He nodded patronizingly. "Yes, very good." Rose thought he had a lot of nerve for a man standing there with the galaxy's biggest, most tented erection.

"Now, you're pilotin' the TARDIS somewhere and I'm watchin'," she continued, still catching her breath, "and you're yammerin' on about the history of hydrogen-based life follicles or something…"

He grimaced. "That doesn't even make sense."

"Still, you're doin' it!" Rose insisted, "and I'm mostly listenin', I'm tryin' to, really…" She felt her gaze drift off as the phenomenon she described claimed her. "…but all I can do is stare at you, at your utterly delicious body, run m'eyes all over you, think how much I wanna touch you, how hot you are—with just, everythin' you do…"

The Doctor's eyes widened with surprise and something else, but Rose had reached a fever pitch. "And the thing I wanna to do most in the whole world—" She rose and moved to him in two steps. "—is this."

She jerked open his trouser button, yanked down the zip, pulled him out, sank to her knees, sucked him in.

The Doctor yelled – just plain yelled. She'd never heard a sound like it out of him before and if she'd been anywhere else she'd have worried about the neighbors calling the cops. She heard him scrabble for a handhold on the console while his other hand fisted in her hair. She'd thrown him for a good, hard loop and it wasn't the only thing she wanted him to do good and hard.

She made her mouth as tight and wet as she could manage; her tongue savored him and he wasn't the only one moaning. He was delicious. It was worth every second of waiting and imagining. She felt like she was losing her mind with the thrill of it and her power over him: his moans were helpless and his hips pulsed forward compulsively, trembling with the effort of not thrusting down her throat. Rose wasn't sure she'd care if he did.

Soon he was starting to pant and grunt in a regular rhythm and she felt his balls contract; Rose wondered how far she wanted to go with this when the Doctor shoved her shoulders back and hauled her to her feet, spinning her round and slamming her roughly over the console; she landed with a grunt of impact.

He bent over her back, face near her ear as he jerked her skirt up around her waist and shoved her knickers around her ankles. Now it was Rose who cried out mindlessly as he stroked her wet crevice and nerve endings that were on fire.

"You wanna know what's dirty, Rose?" he hissed. Rose nodded, shaking. "Every time I look at you, every time since nearly the day we met, I think about putting my cock into you." He'd begun rubbing her opening with the head of the very same cock and without warning shoved it inside her. Rose screamed his name and thrust back hard—oh God, finally feeling him there!

He started moving and kept talking as though unable to contain himself: "Every time I look at you, I think of your tits in my hands and your nipple in my mouth. I imagine you in something diaphanous, a nightgown I can see right through, lying on satin and brocade in a 17th century boudoir. I imagine you walking toward me dressed like a whore before I slam you against a wall. I've dreamt of feeling the silk and the muscles inside you strangling the head of my dick like this, like they're doing right now while I feel every quiver of your body, every quiver I gave you. I imagine waking up next to you and shoving your legs apart and feasting on you. I want to put my tongue in your pussy and taste you from the inside."

Between his words and his merciless pinching of her clitoris she was coming, she couldn't not. So good coming around him feeling his cock scraping against her walls and her opening and hitting that spot inside that made it all so so so much better oh God Doctor HER DOCTOR, all hers…

Urgently he doubled his pace while losing half his finesse. She heard him grunting and keening and cursing in her ear; grabbing her hips so hard and pounding into her once, twice, a last time before collapsing over her, folding his arms around her as he gasped.

After a few seconds he moved a little and slipped out. Rose looked around and grabbed some Kleenex from the box-shaped holder he'd attached to the console a month ago. Rose smiled weakly and wondered if somehow he'd had this in mind.

His chest felt warm and comforting still hovering around her back and soon his hands were smoothing up and down her arms. She turned and looked at him and his blue eyes were wide open and defenseless. Both his guard and hers were completely down.

They started kissing.

Kissing and kissing, never enough, never going to stop, clutched together and kissing and caressing and touching everywhere, stripping off clothing, absently, gently, till they were standing in the middle of the control room, naked and giggling. The Doctor swept Rose up and carried her to whatever bedroom they stumbled upon first.

Rose found that as much as she'd liked being with the Doctor via a competition, she liked it equally without. Even a little more so. It lasted longer, for one thing—Rose felt sure she must have spent a good half hour at the mercy of his incredibly thorough tongue. Or as sure as was possible, given her state of mind at the time.

She'd returned the favor in kind, and then lost her mind all over again during the time he'd spent moving inside her with such sweet, long, torturous strokes that she forgot her own name. No danger of forgetting it for long, though—he was right there repeating it for her with every other breath.

"God, Rose," he gasped, puffing with excitement and exertion. "…good…so good…oh Rose, wanted you for so long…always wanted to show you what you do to me..."

It wasn't that it wasn't hot, and wonderful to hear…it was just that she couldn't resist.

"So…" she said between gasps, "to do that you chose the…time-honored seduction tool of…dirty limericks?"

His eyes shot down to hers in surprise and faint hurt, till he saw the mischievous smile. His grin grew positively evil. "You started it. Besides," he leered. "it worked."

Rose opened her mouth for a return jab. "You can still think," the Doctor interrupted, throwing her leg over his shoulder and stroking harder, deeper. "I'll soon fix that."

"I must say I really did like that limerick you made up."

He nuzzled her ear, chuckling darkly. "Got that impression."

"You did it so fast."

Fake incredulity now. "Blimey, you're right. It's almost as though I'm a genius!" He kept chuckling, even though he deserved the smack she gave him.

"I'm fairly sure anyone can think up a dirty limerick."

He raised an eyebrow. "All right then, let's have it."

She snuggled thoughtfully into his embrace. "There was a mad man with a box…"

He grinned. "Like it so far."

"Who wanted to get off his rocks…"

"Ooii…" he protested gently, amused but a little scandalized. He looked at her to make sure she knew it wasn't just that. Of course she did.

"So he proved he was dirty, and not merely flirty…" She squinched her eyes shut and thought. "Aaaand…likes to have sex while he talks."

He looked perplexed. "Not 'talk while he has sex'?"

"Not the way you do it. I think the talking comes first."

"You sayin' you don't like my talking?"

"Not at all. Just sayin' I've heard less conversation on chat shows."

"I think I'm offended. I want those orgasms back."

"Sorry. Lost the receipt."

He looked like he had in the pub, working to keep the laughter in. He began tickling her, wrestling her underneath him. "I think it's youtalks too much."

Rose shrieked. "Shut me up then!"

His mouth went to her neck. "Already doing…"

There once was a traveling pair
At whom pub owners always would glare
They committed no crimes
But to make up some rhymes

'Cept it always got frisky from there.