This was just an adventure in smut. My first, actually. I just woke up one day and was like "I'm gonna write smut today!"
Anyways, here we go.


Given the opportunity, he would tell you that this is totally and completely her fault. She of course, would swear on her life that he's caused it all. But either way, Rose and the Doctor are in the console room, out of breath and huffing. She's lost her top somewhere outside, and his beloved jacket is lying in charred remains outside the TARDIS. His snazzy trousers are ripped in awkward places, and her skirt has an unintended slit. Running, it's what they do. They're always running, and this time, they were almost caught. She's in the door first, and he barrels in behind her. His hand flings the door shut, and it almost seems like it will ricochet off its hinges. Luckily, the old girl is resilient, and it takes a bit more than a slammed door to break her. Rose and the Doctor hardly stop running then when they get inside. They both almost spin to the console, and all he does is pull a giant lever.

The TARDIS whirs and a large shake announces their departure. It's that loud vacillating tone they've always been so fond of, because it means they're going somewhere new. Or running away from something bad, Rose notes in her head with a bitter tone. Of course, the violent motions also send them toppling over. The Doctor tries to brace his fall and lands on, well…Rose. His hands come in contact with smooth cotton and skin, in one of the places he's desperately been trying not to notice since Rose had to take off her burning shirt while they were running for their lives. But of course, he couldn't run ahead of her, now could he? Then something could have grabbed her from behind, and he may not have noticed. So he had to stay behind her where he could see her, completely.

Skin. Her skin is warm, and his hands are almost shaking with adrenaline. He feels the warmth of her skin seep into his fingertips, giving him an entirely new source of adrenaline. He draws his breath in sharply as he notes her body beneath his. She's almost completely under him, save for a knee and their feet. He tries to look anywhere but at her, he's too shell-shocked to get up quite yet.

"Doctor," Rose's voice is on the edge between irritation and amusement. "Should your hands really be there?" He raises a suggestive eyebrow and she gives him a stern look. So, he moves his hands up to her shoulders, smoothing over warm pink fabric on their way up. His hips are pinning her down, so he shifts one knee to the side, taking his weight off her. He begins to put his left hand on the ground, bracing himself to get off of her. To his surprise, she smirks, and gives a yank on his already loosened tie. He crashes back onto her torso, and from a happy gasp of breath, he can tell that this is what she's after.

She smirks. She has him exactly where she wants him, and it's all too obvious that he only has a shadow of an idea of what's coming. So he searches for words, any words in that large timelord brain of his. It's remarkable, when you desperately need something to say, there's nothing too eloquent about what words come out. He'd like to say something snarky about their position, push her over the threshold. Because honestly, he wants his hands on more skin, wants those last few barriers gone. Or he wants to shut it down now because it's wrong, and they're mates, and what if- but oh, he just can't stop staring at her lips. They're inches from his, and all he can get out is something between audible words and a whisper.

"Sorry we're always running," he grins. She laughs. The motion beneath him makes something low in his stomach tighten with anticipation.

"Just 's long as I'm runnin' with you," she says with a dark smile. Her right hand still clutches his singed tie, and her left hand goes up to his neck. With that, she lifts her head from the ground, and kisses him, long and slow. He's caught off guard, but she can feel the smile when he starts to kiss her back. Before long, it gets more frantic. Her hand puts a little more pressure on his neck, pulling her towards him, because she never wants him to let go. She's kissed Mickey and Jimmy, that boy from high school, and all those random guys in clubs, but she's never kissed the Doctor before. Her Doctor, she thinks possessively, as she dries to deepen the kiss. This is difficult from the bottom of the whole scene, so she yanks him to the side, using his tie, and spins on top of him. He gives a small gasp from the motion; the tie is around his throat after all. Their lips part for a moment, but once he's set below her, he comes up to meet her.

Her lips are there in an instant, with his, and he uses one hand and surprising ab strength to push himself into a sitting position. At this point, her tongue is begging for entrance into his mouth and she sits on his lap, straddling him. Her skirt is hiked up around her waist, but it's only hanging on by an inch anyways. There were too many branches and sharp objects to run through towards the TARDIS, without suffering the casualty of some clothing. At this point, he's thankful for that fact, because he fastens both hands on her skirt, on either side of the tear, and yanks it off. She gasps, and pulls back to look at him in shock.

"I'll get you a new one!" he promises, leaving his hands on the waistband of her underwear. They finger the edge, threatening entrance. She shivers, and her lips go to his neck. She peppers kisses up his neck, and down to his collarbone as his hands roam up and down her sides. He murmurs his approval, but his lips are conspicuously bored. So he dips his neck to meet her face, and his lips are on hers again, this time with the soft biting of teeth on her lower lip, and then his tongue snaking it's way in to her mouth. She opens to let him in, and thinks finally. Finally, they're here, at this point, the culmination of weeks and months of side long glances, lingering hands, and charged emotions as they hug after a near-death experience. Her tongue traces his teeth, and she giggles as the slight taste of banana hits her tongue. She makes a mental note to entice him with banana chapstick later, but right now she's too busy exploring his mouth to think about all the times she'll seduce him later. She'll enjoy her first victory (though he'll say it's his first victory) and worry about the rest later.

She kicks one shoe off, and then the other, struggling to pull off each sock with one hand, with her mouth pushing and pulling at his. Her bare feet hit the cold metal floor, and she reacts enough for him to notice. He laughs, and thinks about how nice it would be to feel her warm body on top of him, while he's naked on the chilly TARDIS floor, but ultimately decides that they probably shouldn't. He pulls away from her, but her mouth tries to follow him. She's breathing heavily at this point, and trying to unbutton his dress shirt underneath his jacket. He sheds his pinstripe jacket, and throws it on the console without a second thought.

"Bedroom?" the Doctor asks quickly, eyes wide and breath short. He searches her eyes for any sign of hesitation, remorse, or qualms. He doesn't find anything but eagerness and anticipation. She nods, and begins to get off of him. But before she can completely disentangle herself, he's picked her up, with one hand underneath her, caressing her through her thin underwear, the other hand on her bare back. She wraps her legs around his waist and one around his neck, using the other to undo his shirt buttons. He stumbles often, trying to kiss her with hands all over, while walking. It's not ideal, but he doesn't want to stop, even long enough for them to properly walk to his room.

His room, obviously, because it's closer. Her room is about an extra ten steps to the right, and he wants the rest of her clothes off, now. He pins her up against his doorjamb, and tugs at her underwear, which slides off her ass, but can't fully come off, as her legs are still wrapped around the Doctor. He contemplates ripping those off too, for a minute, but she stops him.

"No, bed." She says forcefully. Everything is fast and heated, and her grin matches his. They're not very serious people, so anything they do together, they can't take too seriously, even this. She lands with a thump on his bed, mussed blonde hair framing her face like a halo. He can't help but think she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen lying on his bed, and she's about to be naked. He grabs her underwear and pulls them all the way off, letting his hands drag all the way down her smooth, creamy legs. She shudders under his touch, but covers it with a shaking laugh. He smirks, because he loves the way she's reacting to him and he starts to position himself on the bed with one knee. Before he can climb all the way on, her mouth is at his neck, and she's pushing his shirt off of his shoulders, on to the floor. He takes his knee off the bed, and excitedly removes undershirt in one swift motion. Rose barely hesitates before pulling him down on the bed with her. Somehow, the Doctor lands in a proper horizontal position, on his back, head just a bit lower than the pillows. The dark silk sheets feel cool at his back, but they quickly heat up with their combined body temperatures. She kneels at about his knees and undoes his pants, dragging her hands over all the right parts. His eyes shut tightly, and his back arches out from the bed a bit, making Rose shudder and laugh again. This time is her who's enjoying the effect her hands have on him, but she can't help but wonder how he'd react if it was fingers on bare skin. So she pulls his trousers by the waist band, all the way past his knees, taking his underwear with them. He kicks them completely off, struggling to get his shoes fully off his feet. With another laugh from Rose, she licks her lips and puts her hand just above his hips, on his waist.

How quickly the tides have turned, she thinks. Suddenly, all at once, in seconds, he's naked underneath her, and the possessive look in her eyes excites him. He's not one for being passive, but right now, he thinks he'd let Rose do anything she wants to him, long as her body lingers above his, and as long as her hands are wandering. She lowers her mouth to his chest as he tangles his legs into hers. She starts a slow line of kisses up his side, to his nipples, and the center of his chest. His breaths are coming in even shorter now, and she can feel him hard against her stomach, which makes her blush. At her blush, he takes one of her hands in his, and moves it between them to stroke the head of him.

Then suddenly, she's on the bottom, and both her hands are above her head, held in place with one of his slender, but muscular arms. She squirms in delight, and he grins at the spectacle below him. But it's not quite perfect yet. He lowers his lips to hers, and the soft biting pressure he puts on her lower lip makes her arch her back. The Doctor takes advantage of this momentary position to snake an arm behind her back. The bra has to come off, because it's just not fair that he's naked, and she's not. So while he continues to kiss her, sucking at her mouth, on her lip, he uses the one hand that's not holding her steady to slowly remove the last bit of fabric between them. What starts slowly ends in tearing and promises of buying new things, because he just doesn't quite want to relinquish his grasp on her arms. Then it's done, and he has to pause and marvel. He's been looking for so long, behind layers and layers of clothing. He licks his lips while they're still pressed to hers, and then removes both of his hands, instead choosing to place them on the bed, on either side of her shoulders. He takes this opportunity to move his mouth to lower places, of areas that have been recently uncovered.

Suddenly, she can feel him at her breasts. One of his hands goes to press firmly on one, drawing cries from deep in her throat. His mouth is then at the other one, first with kisses, and then with an open mouth, tracing circles with his tongue. He pulls her flesh into his mouth, half sucking and half rolling. Her eyes shut tight and her body bucks against the bed. She's torn between never wanting him to stop, wanting him to move even lower and just wanting him inside her, in every sense of the word. He teases her a bit more, lowering his mouth, fluttering kisses on her stomach and he scoots down her body. His hands begin to snake lower and lower, fingernails lightly scraping down her body, until she gives out a low moan.

Then, the tease that he is, he stops. He crawls back up her body and stares directly at her eyes, stopping just short of looking down into her face. He kisses her jaw with his eyes open, letting her see the darkness in his eyes, the stare that is so male, if not completely human. He realizes that she's probably done this before, with other men, one of which he has met before. So he has to make her his, completely his, with this act, and he wants nothing more. She will be his, completely, before the night is over. Of course, she wouldn't have it any other way.

One of his knees is places square between her legs, and he can feel the wetness seeping slowly from her to his sheets below. Rose Tyler is on his bed, and she's leaking on his bed, and this makes something deep in his chest rumble with happiness and lust and that ever-present possessiveness growing inside him. He grinds his knee against her, and she cries out. She's enjoying this, but part of her is thinking that he's taking way too long to finish this, because she's so close, and she can feel his control weakening as well. She can hear it in his breathing, and feel it in the quivering of his body.

"Doctor, please." With this small sound rasping from her throat, he looks at her and understands. There will be plenty of time for plenty of foreplay in the future. He doesn't know if he ever wants to leave his bed again, as long as she's here. So he inches up her body again, those last few inches to angle himself properly. She feathers her fingers down his chest, towards where their hips are closing, and that's all it takes. He slides inside her, and her hips leave the bed to grind against his. He starts the motion slow and clumsy, but finds his rhythm quickly, with her short gasps to reassure him. He begins to huff and sigh, but his eyes don't leave hers, and he watches her watch him make love to her. He can see it in her eyes; it's never needed to be said before because he knows she knows he loves her. She loves him too. He's a second from saying it, but stops himself, in favor of a better time when they can sit down and talk about it, and talk about what exactly they are to each other.

So instead he puts his thoughts to his hips, which begin to move a bit more spastically. He tries to exert all his control, faster and faster, but he's losing it. But he can tell he's hitting all the right spots, because Rose' body beneath him can't stay still, and her whimpers and cries are music to his ears. Her back is digging into his bed, arching off of his bed, into him, back and forth. She's riding the edge of pleasure as her fingernails scrape against his bare sides, and up to his shoulders. He finally can't look at her anymore, because he's trying so hard to hold on. He's trying to hold on to himself, take control of his pleasure, and make it last as long as possible. But when one last buck of her hips sends them grinding into his, he lets go. Waves and waves of pleasure roll over him, and he feels Rose come a fraction of a second before him, and then again when he is done. Shudders of pleasure go by for minutes after, and Rose thinks she would want to do it again, right after, if only she could move.

He's still on top of her, planting slow, small kisses along her jaw and her neck. She shakily laughs, and tremors go through her hips ad he slowly slides out of her, leaving them slick, wet, and a little bit sore. He unsticks himself from her body and moves to her side, plenty of room on the bed for both of them. One of his hands goes up to rake itself through his hair, and he flings his other arm across her stomach. They're both breathing heavy, but he feels fantastic, and Rose is smiling at him. He can't help but give her a cheesy grin back.

To be cliché, he is completely and utterly spent. You know, as all the cheesy romance smut novels say. So his eyes are beginning to flutter shut, tired from all the beautiful running and wonderful sex. Rose sighs contentedly as he pulls her body toward his. Soon enough, she's in his arms, her bare back pressed against his chest. She feels him react in a low place, and laughs.

"Not so quick, time lord. I don't know if I can handle another bout like that just now." Her voice is tired, tired from running and screwing, and all the screaming she's done in the past while, obviously. She pulls some of the blankets on the bed to her chest, and he flings them over the pair of them.

"Well then, Roseypop," he says, popping the last p, "I suppose there will be plenty of time for that later and-oh, I called you Roseypop, and bleghhh, I promise, that will never come out of my mouth-" he contorts his mouth as if he's tasting soap. She can't see him, but she's seen the look enough to know what he's doing, so she laughs. She cuts him off, though.

"No, it's sweet, I like it." She grabs his hand and pulls it closer to her chest, interlacing her fingers with his. He smiles into her hair, and raises his head enough to give her a kiss on the corner of her cheek.

"Roseypop, then," he says softly. "My Roseypop."