Author's note: I want to thank Kristi for her beta, and her pieces of advice.

This is my first real attempt to write smut... I hope you'll like it.

Title is from I was made for sunny days, the Weepies

I don't own Doctor who


the nights are dark but then they pass

Some planet, somewhere in the universe. It's the middle of the night, and the atmosphere is barely better than the oppressive heat of the day. There was nothing anymore on that planet, except sand and rock and ruins. That was what she had come for –a place where she could get away from it all, and spend hours digging out and brushing off ancient artifacts. And by the nightfall, she felt exhausted . But tonight the heat was too heavy and she could not close her eyes for rest.

She felt alone. She had not seen him for a long time, and she had not seen her him for a very long time. And he had not kissed her and not even touched her for… better not to think about it.

Their last meeting had been the Byzantium. How much time ago now, she could not tell. After that she had been released, and had immediately run away as far as possible from Stormcage. She had been to planets, had dug holes and found old cities buried in the ground, and she had tried to forget everything else. She would get her professorate in a couple of months and she had too many things to plan and finish to think about time passing by. Except for tonight, except for tonight when everything she had been avoiding, came rushing back to her.

She had tried to phone but he did not answer. Of course he did not, he never did and never would. She was not even sure that he ever looked at his phone and listened to his messages. She did not leave any anyway. She was not sure that he would know who she was. He was younger and younger each time they met and she was afraid that their next time should be his first. And seeing a Doctor that did not know her, while she needed him so much, would be even worse that not seeing him at all.

She turned around on her cot and fell on her back. She had nothing on her but a tank top and black knickers, and the sheets were pulled at the end of the bed. The entrance of her tent was open and a fresh wind was gently blowing but she was feeling hot. She moved a hand in her hair and swallowed. She was alone in an empty planet and she was hot and she needed him against her. She bloody missed him.

She closed her eyes. What had he done to her?

What would he do to her if he was there?

He would kiss her first, and she would kiss him back, and perhaps she would bite her bottom lip to make him physically feel the pain of her missing him. He would groan against her mouth and she would like it, as much as he would like it.

After a while he would leave her mouth and lick her throat, while his hands would move down and stroke the skin under her shirt. He would slowly pull it up, and she would shiver under his hands –because this time he would know her and he would exactly know where he would have to press, where he would have to kiss, to make her feel sensations he was the only one to make her feel. He would not take her top off completely, because that would mean that he would have to take his hands off of her and that would be something he would not be able to do.

Of course for now she was alone and her hands were not his and she could not feel his hot breath on her neck and his hot body against her skin. But it was all she got. Hands and imagination and memories.

Then , his hands up her stomach and his mouth down her throat would meet on her chest. He would cup each breast on his hands and look at them, stroking her soft skin until she would be hard in his palms. He would bend and finally take one nipple in his mouth and she would welcome him with a moan. She groaned, as she tried to simulate the sucking of his lips on her body with her own hands.

His mouth on one breast. A hand on the other, rubbing and nipping it. She would breathe hard and she would not be able to stop her hips from rocking under him. He would understand and his other hand would move down her stomach again, stop a moment on her belly button, to finally reach the sensitive spot between her thighs. She would gasp, encouraging him by opening her legs wider and pressing herself closer against his fingers. He would go a little down, reaching her entrance only to feel if she was ready –and she would be, hot and wet, shivering in anticipation. She would cry out and he would growl into her neck as he pushes into her.

But she was still alone, and the only groans she could hear were her own. A hand under her knickers, she thrust two fingers inside of her as they were his. The rhythm would be fast, because it would be a long time for both of them and they would not be able to wait. He would be in her and on her and around her and against her –everywhere– their bodies moving together until a rush of pleasure would flood in and she would come, jerking uncontrollably and screaming his name again and again. It would be a long and overwhelming orgasm, one of the best she'd ever had, because she needed it.

She came back to her reality, breathing hard. Of course it had not been as good as the thought. The rush of pleasure had been a tiny wave, there had not been any body to share it with and no name to scream. But she was panting anyway and a bit of the tension in her muscles had disappeared. She felt better. She knew it would come back, soon or later, but for now it was okay. The only thing missing was his own body leaning and resting on hers, slowly calming down. He would gently kiss her, stroke her face or brush her hair, and they would fall asleep together, hot skin against hot skin, peacefully delighting the physical proximity of each other.

She sighed. The rest of the night would be as lonely as the beginning.

It was when she turned back, looking on the ground for some tissue to clean up her dirty fingers, that she noticed the shadow thrown by the moonlight. She stayed still, completely frozen. She would recognize him everywhere, even if there was only his shadow. But it was only she finally hear the voice that she allowed herself to believe in what was happening.

x.

"Am I interrupting?" said the so well-known voice, and she finally lifted her head up. He was there, standing in the entrance of her tent, with his long green coat and… – coat? It was thirty degrees out there and he was wearing his coat?

Her gaze met his, and she smirked. This was her Doctor –not a young foolish inexperienced Doctor, but her Doctor. She could guess, just the way he was looking at her, at her shirt still pulled up, revealing her generous chest, her body shivering when she thought of all the possibilities of the situation. He was standing in front of her, full-clothed, only looking at her, and she could feel the pressure in her stomach rising again.

"No, you're not, it's all done." She finally answered. "You're late." She added, colder, cold enough to make him feel that she had thought she would become crazy, waiting for him, no choice than but to take matters in her own hands, quite literally.

"Oh –" he said, a bit embarrassed, scratching his cheek. "But, I'm here now. Maybe I could help… you know… for the second round?" he shyly continued and she wondered if he was pretending or if he really was afraid that she was angry with him.

"You better… Hurry up!" she commanded, half-laughing. He lost no time to take off his clothes and throw them on her desk –coat, jacket, bow-tie and shirt, before pulling off his shoes and his trousers fell on the ground. He finally slipped out of his pants and she had to stop herself from giggling. She did not know for how much time he had been there and what he had exactly seen and heard, but it had been enough to make his desire more than obvious.

She only had a one-person cot, so she leaned on her elbow to make him some place. He laid down on his rights side so he could face her, few inches from her but no part of him touching her. For a moment they just looked at each other.

"Hello Sweetie." She finally whispered. "It's been a long time." And it sounded like the biggest I miss you she had ever told him.

"When was your last time?" he asked, brushing one of the curls off her face and she closed her eyes. His hands were cool on her skin and it felt really better than in her memories.

"Byzantium." She breathed out. "You?"

"Spoilers." He answered, and she opened her eyes wide in surprise.

"Spoilers?" she said, incredulous. She could not believe that the last time that that Doctor had met her was a spoiler for her.

"Spoilers." He repeated, self-confident, and she could tell he was old, very old. This Doctor was years away from the one she had met the previous times.

"So it's not…"

"No, it's not your last time." He finished for her in confirmation.

She could not find any word to answer. She had never thought that she would ever see this him again before tonight, and now he told her that she would meet him, again… she had believed that she was close to the end, but maybe she was wrong… She fought tears that came in her eyes.

He cupped her face and kissed her forehead softly. He remained in that position, lips on her face, nose brushing against her hair, and she could hear him breathing in deeply. She placed her hands on his chest, covering both of his hearts. She could feel them beating strongly –and something else, a kind of tension. She guessed it had been a long time for him too, and she wondered if he was not fighting tears as she was.

She didn't have time to think about that, as he bent and kissed her. His lips brushing against hers and she sighed deeply in his mouth. It had been such a long time, she had almost forgotten how it felt and how he tasted. Her hands moved to his neck to pull him closer and they both let out a moan. The kiss deepened, open mouths and twirling tongues, and as she had thought before she bit him –and as she had thought he growled. What she had not expected though was the fact that he would bite her in response. But so he did, nipping her bottom lip and she gasped in surprise. The kiss turned into something more frantic and wild, all clashing teeth and fighting tongues, skin rubbing against skin, hands moving and they did not know where and how. When they finally broke it up, gasping for some air, they looked at each other, red cheeks and marks of teeth everywhere, and they both giggled.

"A very long time, indeed." He said and she nodded, licking her lips. It did not hurt, the physical pain of his biting on her lips, not after the long months waiting for him.

His hands were on her stomach now, stroking her belly gently, tracing the curve of her hips with the tips of his fingers. Moving up to reach her chest, his thumbs rubbing the underside of her breasts, and sliding the shirt off of her. Then he kissed her again, softer than before, still massaging her nipples.

She slid her palm down his body and he shivered suddenly as she grabbed him in her hand. He pulled his lips out of her mouth, breathing hard, and rested his forehead on hers. She stroked the length of him, nails gently scratching against the sensitive skin, while her other hand licked his balls, causing loud grunts of satisfaction from him.

It took him a few seconds to accommodate her caress, and he found the way to her lips again, kissing her more vigorously. He encouraged her, thrusting into her hands, and she was so focused on her own movements for him that she did not notice that he was exploring her body again, until he grabbed her knickers and suddenly put them down. She barely had time to throw them off her feet that he already pushed two fingers inside of her roughly, his thumb drawing circles around her clit.

She left his member and grabbed his... –she did not know. Maybe it was his arm, or his waist, or his shoulders; she just had to hold on something. She pushed her head back and he attacked her neck. She could not stop moaning, almost shouting, as he thrust in and out of her, and it felt better than she remembered –and he was fucking her with his fingers only. She felt like she was going to come there in his hand, and she tried to tell him, but words were trapped in her throat and she could not articulate anything. One, two movements more... He finally stopped his movements and left her, and she felt like she was breathing again but she also realized how empty she was without him.

She loosened her grip around his arms and she could see the scratches she had dug in his skin. She wondered if it hurt him or if, like her, he was too aroused to feel anything but the urge of each other.

His hands rested on the small of her back, pressing her against him, and she could feel his body now burning on her own.

"I missed you." he whispered, and she could not help thinking it was pretty obvious.

"Missed you too."

Having those little parts of him in her had reminded how she wanted him. She kissed his delicious lips while her hands grabbed his shoulders and one of her legs got wrapped around his waist. She pushed him down, onto his back so she could place her knees on either side of him. Her fingers found his –or was it him that looked for hers?– and gripping him the tightest she could, she finally took him in her.

Oh.

Time seemed to stop, and it was hard to remember how to keep on breathing. Then suddenly everything seemed to move again, she could feel the stars shining outside, and she could almost hear the sun constantly exploding millions of miles away from there. His hearts were beating in such a rapid dance she thought it might kill him one day. And there was his blood, rushing in his veins, and she could almost see every drop of it moving under his skin. And there were his thoughts –his wonderful complicated thoughts, thousands of years of memories running and jumping, a canvas of colors and songs and feelings. There were too many for her to understand everything, but the most important she always got it, his feelings for her, desire and respect, pain and joy, the laughter and the tears, admiration and –love, love, love, so deep and so true there were no words to express it, in any language.

It was always the same when he opened his mind to her, and she needed a few seconds to make the difference between her own sensations and his. It was more difficult tonight, after all those times when he had been so far from her, so closed, keeping everything for himself and she had been used to guess his feelings by herself.

He let her take the time she needed and when she finally came back he lifted her up, putting them both into sitting position. Her legs wrapped around his waist and his hands on her lower back, holding her tightly, she sank deeper around him, and she thought that this time it was the deepest he could ever reached. She rolled her hips against his and he followed her frenetic rhythm. Every part of him was against her, and if she could she would never let him go. His lips worked on her neck, except the moments they went down to her chest, and each time they moved, his pelvis pressed more firmly against her and she shouted deeper and louder.

This time, she could feel it coming, the overwhelming wave of pleasure. It tickled around her belly, hurt the tip of her toes, burnt her hands. It was a tiny sensation first, which quickly grew up, climbed up her arms, walked down her legs, rooted in her brain. It irradiated and flooded her whole body until the only thing she could do was to let it go –and she did. She jerked so strongly she was lucky he was holding her or she would have fallen on the ground. Her muscles clenched around him with such strength it almost sent him out of her as he came too, and she wondered if she would be able to survive the sensation both of their orgasms. She dug her nails deeper in his skin and she screamed out, yelling his name so loud it might have echo echoed around the whole planet. But neither of them cared. They were alone there, just her and him, sharing the most intimate moment, and nothing else mattered.

When she recovered a bit of consciousness, he had fell on his back, lying on her cot, and she was still on him, resting on his skin. One of his hands was stroking her hair and the other was tracing Gallifreyan words absentmindedly on her back. She cuddled against his chest and kissed him there, her fingers drawing circles upon his hearts.

"Feel better?" he asked as his gaze met hers.

"The second round was better than the first one." she answered, smiling, before placing a quick kiss on his lips.

She fell on the mattress and curled around him, head on the crook of his shoulders and hands on his stomach. He pulled her closer and they closed their eyes. They fell asleep in that position, their bodies wrapped possessively. Just before she drifted off she felt a fresh breeze entering the tent, and this time she was glad to notice that it felt cool on her skin. But he was there against her, warming her, and it was the best sensation she knew.

The end


Thank you for reading!