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scarerjh · 11 months

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Peri-menopause/Post Apocalypse

Joel Miller x f!You One Shot.

Summary: You’re on patrol with Joel (ooh I rhymed), get stuck in a cabin until morning, a little bit of body warmth trope, a little bit of one bed (cabin) trope, with a sprinkling of idiots in love. Also S.M.U.T.

You were on holiday when it happened, in a foreign country celebrating your twenty tenth birthday that had been in the February. Now it was about 6 weeks until your twenty thirtieth birthday and you were hauled back into your memories as you trotted behind Joel quietly as you did the late patrol.

You had survived 20 years of an apocalypse, and in a foreign country. The first of your five friends on holiday with you hadn’t even survived outbreak day, you’d had to dispatch her yourself, your other friends never looked at you the same after that, and you didn’t feel the same. You had a few memories that made you smile though too, you almost chuckle thinking about Alice as you looted the shops to get what you needed before trying to head out of Austin, the first city on your planned road trip. Alice had picked up boxes of condoms saying, “you never know,”. “I’m pretty sure an apocalypse is contraception enough right now,” you had retorted.

Like many around you in Jackson, including the stoic man in front of you, you’d done things you never thought yourself capable of to survive; you carried the guilt of being the only survivor amongst your friends, and carried the sorrow of not even knowing if your family was alive, and you weren’t sure you would come to terms with never knowing. Without evidence there was always hope…and hope fucking hurts.

You’d been in Jackson for about four years, your skills as a medic being a huge bartering tool to get them to let you stay. Somehow, you’d managed to carve out a life, and for being in an apocalypse, things were peaceful when not on patrol. In Winter, days like today, patrol was usually quiet too.

The snow started falling and at first it was pretty despite there already being more than enough on the ground. Within the hour a snowstorm seemed to be settling in, so you sped up, needing to get to the checkpoint and return to Jackson ASAP.

At the cabin you signed the book for the two of you as Joel checked everything was secure, it was a basic little place and would often require ongoing repairs, especially in Winter, despite this, it was still a shock when you heard the crash of wood and a gruff curse. To your right Joel stood covered in a new dust of snow, the door to the cabin at his feet.

You both tried your best to make the cabin secure with what basic tools were available, but it was rotten, and the top hinge was completely unusable.

Joel stood with his hands on his hips surveying the door and caught you bouncing on your toes blowing on your cold fingers.

“Okay, we’ll make ourselves a fire and set in for the night until the mornin’ patrol come,”

“Shit, it’s going to be freezing,”

“We’ll be alright, I’ll build a fire, you grab any blankets you can find. We’ll make do,”

You were never averse to spending time with Joel, but you were averse to returning to Jackson with fewer toes than you left with. Every scrap of fabric in the place was hunted down and you started building by the fireplace before you set up the stove.

As Joel worked on building the fire you watch his broad back shift, and his big hands handle the logs and kindling. His jeans pulled taut over his backside, showing off its gentle curve.

“I thought you were brewing coffee,” Joel spoke over his shoulder, pulling you away from your leering.

“I am,”

“Well, I ain’t hearin’ it,” his tone was teasing.

“Well, someone needs to hurry up and start the fire so I can use the flint for the stove,” you retorted.

The teasing in your friendship with Joel was a recent development, starting just a few weeks ago, and you liked it, really liked it. Since his arrival in Jackson he had slowly opened up to you as he settled in, and you observed the change keenly, like a lot of other singletons in Jackson. He was slowly getting used to not needing to be on alert all the time, his resting bitch face started to soften around the edges, and he was slowly becoming more sociable. He was still very much a calculated man, but every so often, and increasingly so, his guard was lowered around you, telling you once after a few whiskeys that he felt at ease around you, even safe.

The two of you were similar in some ways, both a little stubborn, both keeping your social circles small, and both too stupid to admit your attraction to the other, assuming it was one sided.

You saw all the single people in Jackson and how they looked at him, you were one of them. He was strong, handsome, and extremely capable, surprisingly soft spoken, and very polite. Every single person in Jackson seemed to want to solve the mystery that was Joel Miller. You think you’re ahead of the curve though, but that has led to unrequited feelings, and though you technically haven’t been rejected, you haven’t been brave enough to even try to blur that line between you. There were younger and prettier people than you in town, and he could have his pick, so why would he pick you?! You were discovering lines on your face, a little weight to your belly. If you weren’t sweating like a nun in a cucumber patch, you were looking like an idiot because you couldn’t think of the right word. You weren’t exactly feeling like a catch.

Joel was pleased with his work, the door to the cabin barricaded with what furniture was available, a fire starting to take hold, and the bubbling of coffee behind him. He found himself smiling at your sass, it was one of his favourite things about your friendship, well, about you really. He never had any qualms about undertaking any kind of detail with you, but patrol was his favourite. Just the two of you sharing stories from before outbreak day, and plenty of them about days since. Being not too dissimilar in age you remember a lot of the same things. Your silences together were comfortable, you worked well as a team whether you were hunting or fighting. Somehow you made his coffee taste better, and despite hating it, you would sometimes steal a few sips if you were cold. He never failed to be both enamoured and amused as your nose would crinkle as you gasped after swallowing the bitter liquid. Joel thought you were so sweet, but you would never go for someone like him. Since becoming settled and opening himself up to the possibility of as close to a normal life as possible this new world could afford he’d started developing a niggle in his stomach, it started when he met you and has only got worse since. He found his gaze lingering on you, felt a tightness in his chest when you laughed, and a tightness in his jeans when you would strip to your tank top and fan yourself in one of your ‘tropical moments’, a thin film of sweat glistening on your skin that he wanted to lave with his tongue. But you were too kind, too bright, too beautiful to want him. He felt you could see his tainted soul when your bright eyes held his gaze.

“You havin’ some?” Joel offered up his cup of coffee.

“If I get desperate,”

“You don’t know what you’re missin’ darlin’,”

“I know very well what I’m missing,” you wiggled your socked toes near the fire. You spend the next hour idly chatting before making sure the barricade was holding before settling down for the night, zipping your sleeping bags together so your body heat would carry you through the night when the fire died. Sharing a bed or a sleeping bag wasn’t new to either of you so there was no embarrassment as you both got comfortable, ensuring your weapons were in reach before bidding each other goodnight.

Some of your most restful nights outside the walls of Jackson have been laid up against Joel, his warmth and musk lulling you towards sleep; eyelids suddenly heavy and muscles relaxing, sinking into the makeshift bedroll. Your slumber came so quickly you didn’t notice Joel pressing his lips softly to the top of your head.

Joel noticed it was an unsettled night for you, tossing and turning, but you remained asleep, so he just assumed you were uncomfortable. If you weren’t having a nightmare there was no reason for him to wake you. If he did, you’d probably kill him with a spoon.

A thud startled Joel awake, and he felt you curl into him, a small moan rising from you.

“Sssh!” came softly from your lips.

“It wasn’t me,” his voice was dry, and low from sleep. He felt you stiffen in his arms at the thought of an intruder or infected. His arm instinctively pulled you tighter into him as he surveyed the room. There was nothing and no one in the room besides the two of you and he started to relax. “Think your boots just fell over darlin’,”

As you both relaxed your sleep addled brains took a moment to register that Joel’s bare hand laid firmly in the middle of your very bare back. The realisation was almost in unison and you both looked down under the covers. Somehow during the night, you had stripped yourself of everything but your knickers.

“Oh fuck!” you clung onto Joel to try and hide yourself while he oscillated between amused, embarrassed, and turned on.

“The fire ain’t even that warm,” you could hear his amusement in his tone, but couldn’t see the struggle in his face with yours buried in his chest, cheeks burning furiously.

“It’s you!” you thump your fist into his chest.

“Wha…?!”

“You’re like a furnace, I must have started with a hot flush,” you look down at yourself again and Joel’s eyes follow suit, his gaze being met with your cleavage, your breasts pressed tight to his chest. He couldn’t stop the small groan that escaped his chest and his hand curled into a fist at your back. All he could think of was pushing is face into your soft flesh and inhaling your scent.

The sexual sound of his groan, the tight fist at your back lit a fire in you, and your pussy started to throb. You snapped your head up so quickly, trying to get a read on him that you headbutted his chin, his head reeled back as you swore in tandem.

"Oh fuck, Joel! I’m so sorry!” you instinctively rise and cradle his face in your hands surveying the damage. His eyes were watering slightly but he was otherwise unscathed. Having slid up his body Joel was very aware of you pressed against him, thigh almost encased by his own, breasts sitting high on his chest, so close he could probably just about reach their soft swell with the tip of his tongue. You watch Joels’ gaze fall to your cleavage, bounce up to your eyes before focusing on your lips. His warm hands squeeze your hips, and when you speak his name it’s a breathy question, one which he understands immediately, nose brushing against yours.

“Yeah,” he utters before your lips make contact. A shiver of adrenaline ran through you, causing you to inhale deeply through your nose because no way in hell were you letting your lips leave his. A small grunt parts Joel’s lips and you take your opportunity to delve your tongue into his mouth. His hands leave a blazing hot trail up your back as you shift to straddle him under the covers, his hips bucking immediately as your hot core presses against his hardening cock.

“Fuck…wanted you for months,” he spoke with your earlobe perched delicately between his teeth.

“Really?!”

“Yeah, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he looks up at you. “I tried to stop it, tried not to let you in…” he squeezed two handfuls of your backside.

“Let me in?!”

“I…I ain’t…fuck…I tried not to let you in,” his words may fail him, but his actions don’t as he places your palm over his heart as it heaves beneath his ribs. You crash your lips to his once more, kisses becoming feverish and sloppy, both of you fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as you grind against him, whimpering at the feeling of his hard cock caged in his jeans. Forcing you to sit up he pulled his shirt and t-shirt off over his head, both of you erupting in goosebumps as the cold air hits your warm skin.

“Oh shit darlin’, you’re so pretty,” he took the opportunity to gaze upon your bare body, palming your breasts gently, feeling your nipples tickle against his palms. He lowered his head to suck one nipple into his warm and wanting mouth, delighting in the gasp that rises from your throat. In this position his denim covered cock hits your clit just right and you begin riding him like that, slipping your fingers into his soft curls to anchor yourself against him. The undulations of your hips were as frustrating as they were relieving for the ache of his stiff cock.

“Joel…” you whimper as you get closer to your release, your soaked pussy clenching around nothing, the coil in your abdomen about to snap.

“Mmm, that feel good darlin’?”

“Yeah, oh fuck Joel, I’m gonna cum,”

“Cum all over me darlin’, I got you,”

“I want you inside me, want you to fill me up,” you wrap your arms around his neck and speak against his lips as you near your precipice.

“I will baby, I promise, but you gotta cum for me first, ‘kay? Cum for me and I’ll give you anythin’ you want,” He kissed his way along your jaw as you clung to him and your breaths stuttered, he buried his face in your neck laving your skin with his hot tongue as he listened to all of your sweet moans and whimpers in his good ear. You break against him, hips bucking, and a torrent of filth pouring from your lips, punctuated by moans of his name and calls to the almighty as lightening spread through your body.

“Oh fuck Joel,” your hands snake back into his hair and he throws his head into your touch as you gently scratch his scalp. You rest your forehead against his, a stupid, satiated smile plastered on your face.

“Good?” his eyes twinkled and his lips curled.

“Great!” you held his face in your hands and kissed him softly.

“That was so goddamn sexy, seein’ you come undone like that,”

“Let me see you,” you run your hands over the broad expanse of his chest.

“Yes ma’am,” he smiled as he rolled you both over so you were laid on your back. Everything seems to slow for a moment as you look up at him; the light from what’s left of the fire dancing across his strong features. As your fingers wander gently over his brow his eyes close at your delicate touch.

“I can’t believe you want me too,” you air your insecurities, not actually meaning to do so out loud. His eyes spring open, his gaze holding yours as an incredulous look sits on his face.

“Why wouldn’t I want you?!” he asked as though it’s obvious.

“Because I am currently feeling like an aging, sweaty mess. There are so many women in Jackson, younger, perkier, you could have your pick,”

“I think you’re overestimating my appeal,” he chuckles self-effacingly. “Besides…” he dips his head and lowers his voice to a low growl “…I have picked. Why would I want a girl when I want a woman…when I want you,” he punctuates his sentence with a strong roll of his hips. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, I can’t promise I’m gonna last but I wanna be inside you, feel ya squeezin’ me,”

“I want it Joel, I want you inside me. I need to feel you, need you filling me up,”

“Yeah?” he looks up, eyes dark and studious of your features as he unfastens his jeans. You both shift so he can shuck them down enough to free his aching cock.

“Oh fuck, you’re going to feel so good,” you take in the heft of him and lick your lips.

“Think you can take me darlin’?” he asks in a gentle tone, rubbing his length along your soaked folds as he hooks your sodden panties out of the way.

“Yeah, just…slowly,” you give him a little wink. He notches the head of his cock at your entrance and watches for any signs of discomfort as he pushes in achingly slowly. Every ridge and vein of his cock, every adjustment of your soft walls around him was felt keenly. Your back arched into him as he became fully seated within you, his hands ran up to cup your breasts as you moaned in unison. “Fuck, you feel so good,” your hips squirm beneath him.

“Hold on sugar, jus' need a minute,” his twinkling eyes showed a playful warning.

“That’s three terms of endearment and it’s not even dawn,” you tease.

“Would you like me to stop?”

“No! I really like them, they sound so good in your Texan drawl,”

“Well then sugar…darlin’…sweetheart…” he began to plant sweet kisses over your face and neck with each word, finishing on a drawl filled “honey piiee,” as he smiled into the crook of your neck making you giggle, and he gasped as the action made you clench around him. His response was to grind his hips into yours.

“Move for me Joel,” you slid one leg up his side to further open yourself to him.

“I’m not gonna last darlin’,” you saw the worry flash across his features.

“I don’t care, I just want to feel you, want to watch you cum for me,”

“Goddammit.” He lunged forward and pushed his tongue into your mouth as he finally started moving his hips. His grunts, your sighs, the sound of skin on skin, with the wet sound of your pussy taking him was a beautiful, pornographic symphony.

“Oh god, oh god you feel so good, fuck,” you pant into his ear as you hold each other close, sweat slick bodies sliding against each other.

“Ngh! Feel so good sweetheart,”

“Fuck yes, your thick cock is perfect. I want you to cum for me Joel, let me see you,” his hips speed up, balls slapping against your backside and his brow is furrowed in concentration.

“Keep talkin’” he stutters out.

“I’ve got you, cum for me baby, give me that big cock and then paint me. Cum all over me,”

“Yes…yes…” he quickly slipped himself out and fisted his slick cock, thick ropes of cum decorating your stomach as he swore and groaned through his release. He looked wrecked, and so fucking sexy, features slack, dark eyes hooded, a thin film of sweat highlighting all of the curves and divots across his chest and shoulders. He supported himself at arm’s length as he caught his breath, shivering as your fingertips danced across his torso.

“That makes two of us,” he chuckled. “Give me a minute and I’ll get you cleaned up,” he rested his forehead against yours.

“You look incredible,” you sit up and kiss him, wiping the disbelieving look from his face. “You do, so strong, so handsome…so fucked,” you grin.

“No need to worry yourself,” you grab a t-shirt and wipe yourself off.

“Hey! That’s mine,”

“So was the mess,” you both chuckle, then soon he’s laid you down and wrapped himself around you, sighing softly as your fingers play in his hair.

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thirdeyeblue · 1 year

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Out on a snowy hike, the Doctor and Rose get lost and quickly find themselves in danger. With night upon them and temperatures dropping fast, staying warm becomes a matter of survival.

Pairing: Tenth Doctor x Rose Tyler

Rating: Explicit

Length: 11k (one shot)

Tags: Huddling For Warmth, First Time, Romance, Smut

[Ao3]

It's nearly twilight on the planet Karoa when the Doctor and Rose find themselves sprinting through a dense forest.

They're heading back to the TARDIS after a long, snowy hike through the wilderness when the Doctor realizes he'd plotted their course wrong, leaving a deep and narrow river between them and the side of the forest where they initially landed. It wouldn't have been a big deal, but they were still quite far from the ship, and the sky was darkening quickly.

Searching for the path they originally used to get across, they encounter a couple of adorable wolf pups snacking on some sort of bird-like carcass. Their smiles and awe are quickly wiped away when they find themselves pursued by the mother a moment later, a massive wolf with silvery-blue fur that spotted them from a distance.

It's not long before the Doctor spots their best option: a log crossing straight over to the other side of the river. It's not very wide, but it looks to be grounded well enough. He looks over his shoulder, catching Rose's eyes with a profoundly sympathetic expression.

"It's the only way," he says quietly.

In the near distance, growls echo through the trees, deep, rumbling and sinister in the encroaching darkness and twisting trees. He takes her hand and clutches it with the purposeful squeeze of a man who isn't sure how to tell his friend just how much danger they're in because there could be more wolves en route… It could be an entire bloody _pack, _for all he knows.

"We've got to get across," he insists, and this time, there's no mistaking the urgency or the fear in his voice. "Rose, I would carry you if I could. You know I would. You're just going to have to be careful."

Rose shivers, nodding shakily. "O-okay."

The Doctor smiles weakly. "You go first— I'll be right behind you to catch you if you slip."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

The wolf has almost caught up to them now, her rumbling growls accompanied by the crunching sounds of paws trampling through leaves. He gives Rose a tug. "Come on."

Together, with hands linked, the pair makes a beeline for the log. Once they arrive, the Doctor gives the natural bridge a brief inspection, though they're almost immediately interrupted by a guttural growl from no more than ten meters off.

Rose looks back at him with terrified eyes, and he wills another smile. His Rose is strong and brilliant. She can do this. He nods towards the log, and very carefully, they begin to make their way across. It's narrow, and the water rushing below is rather intimidating, but it's not too far of a distance. There's no way the wolf can cross it, at least not easily.

The mother snarls and gnashes her teeth as she advances on the pair. At this point, they're more than halfway across, and the Doctor reaches into his coat and removes his sonic screwdriver. Turning his head to point it at the beast, he apologizes under his breath before emitting a frequency that pulls an agonized screech from the animal, debilitating her for a crucial moment.

Rose glances over her shoulder at the sound as she's midway across the log. It's enough of a critical misstep that when she looks forward, she steps on a small patch of frozen moss, knocking her off-balance the same instant the Doctor is busy slipping his screwdriver into his pocket.

With a scream, her body pitches right, and though her arms flail about in a bid to regain purchase, she loses the battle with gravity and plunges headfirst into the freezing depths below. The Doctor's hearts stop.

"Rose!"

Thinking fast, he tosses his coat to the other side of the log, where it lands in the snow with a soft, crunching thud. He then dives straight into the water, following Rose without a second thought.

The river's so cold it feels as though it's boiling against his skin — but he's able to tune the discomfort out completely, sustaining the bulk of his core temperature as he swims.

Rose has already been pulled quite a ways down the river, head bobbing in and out of the water as she gasps for air and attempts to cry for help. She can't find stability in the rapids, but the Doctor isn't human, so if there's one thing to be grateful for in this moment of terror, it's how quickly he can come to his companion's rescue.

"Rose— Rose, I've got you." He gets an arm around her waist and holds her close, barely keeping them both afloat by kicking his legs. "Hold on!"

Arms cumbrous with soaking, freezing clothing wrap around his neck and cling tightly, quite literally for dear life, as he desperately searches the edge for anything he can use to pull them to safety. He uses almost all of his strength to keep her head above water, feeling his hearts break more and more with each choking cough and gasp she emits in bursts beside his ear.

Thankfully, it only takes a moment before he spots erosion in the soil ahead, a spot where the tree roots are unearthed and exposed. He swims desperately for them, occasionally pulled beneath the water by Rose's inadvertent tugging and the violent current swirling around them.

The first root he grasps breaks away from the ground. He doesn't waste much time or energy chastising himself for the risk, instead grabbing a sturdier root, drawing his remaining strength to hang on for all he's worth.

"Come on," he breathes, looking at his companion, who's now sopping wet, white as a sheet and overcome with heavy shivers. "Oh, Rose— you're alright— here, hold on to my neck — there you go. Hang on tight — that's it, now DO. NOT. LET. GO."

Thank the lucky stars she listens, using impressive strength in her weakened state to hold on as he works towards getting them out of the river.

Each time he reaches up and takes hold of a new root, he pulls them up a little higher, slowly drawing their bodies out of the water. He continues to climb with hands nearly numb, threatening to jeopardize his grip, but he powers through — even while he's repeatedly nicked by jagged bits of wood.

With no small effort, he eventually pulls up over the ledge, hoisting them both onto the snowy ground with a pained grunt. Hidden under the cover of dusk, he feels confident they've evaded the wolves.

Quickly and carefully, he lowers Rose to her feet. Exposed again to the icy air, he can't help but notice how harsh the cold is. For her sake, he's desperate to get back to the log and retrieve his coat.

She's pale with a flushed face, muscles contracting in violent shivers as her body attempts to warm her with the chemical expenditure of rapid movement. It's frivolous, of course— no amount of shivering will counteract the abrupt loss of heat from being submerged in the river — but at least she's _able _to. For now, that's the best sign he could ask for other than a bloody sauna magically materializing in front of them.

The Doctor swallows thickly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She gasps.

"D-D-D— Doc—"

"Shhhh." He gathers her close to his side, surreptitiously stealing glances in each direction to ensure they're no longer being pursued.

He breathes a quiet sigh when he sees that the coast is clear.

Thankfully, there's nothing on this side of the river—only trees, the soft sounds of water, and the distant but warm and familiar hum of his ship. They might be on the right side now, but they're not at all close. Again, he sighs, looking down at Rose's face.

_Oh, Rose. _She's dazed to the point of appearing drugged, flushed and racked with heavy, shaking shivers as her body continues attempting to heat itself up in any way it can. Though the sight is alarming, and rightfully so, he's still relieved to see that she's maintained the motor skills necessary for her body to have such a response. That means he's still got time.

His arm tightens around her waist.

"Come on, Rose," he murmurs, tightening his hold on her waist. "We're going to go and get you warm, alright?"

"I-I-I'm s-s-s-s-so c-c-cold," she chatters weakly, nearly keeling over with a shudder the Doctor feels coursing through her body, intense as an electric shock.

His hearts break a little more. All he wants to do is cloak her, hold her, protect her, anything, but they're both absolutely sopping wet. With the temperature's relentless descent, any attempts to reach the TARDIS could result in certain death— even if there weren't wolves awaiting them on the other side.

His only hope for immediate relief is to get back his coat. They've floated a reasonable distance from where he tossed it, but it's still reasonably close, so he gives Rose another squeeze.

"I know, and I'm sorry— really, I'm_ so_ sorry— but we've got to keep moving."

"I c-c-c-can't, I-I—"

"Non-negotiable, Rose Tyler— you _can, _and you will. Just do as I do. Come on, that's it. One foot in front of the other. We're just a short ways out. There you go."

The Doctor's weakened legs are the only thing propelling them forward, supporting so much of Rose's weight that her movements aren't entirely unlike a marionette controlled by strings. He wants to run at a full sprint to where his coat lies in the snow, but he doesn't trust Rose to keep herself upright, and he's got to keep her moving.

It takes several excruciating moments, but they finally reach the log, where the wolf has since thankfully abandoned her previous position. The Doctor keeps Rose balanced at his side and carefully uses his foot to lift his coat up from the frozen forest floor, using as much of his periphery as possible to make sure nothing's about to take a running leap at them.

Once he gets the coat into his hand, he quickly wraps it around her, making sure it's snug before he pulls his sonic from the pocket.

"I'm going to pick you up," he informs her quietly, and then he does just that, handling her as gently as possible. She's gone hypothermic. Any sudden movements could shock her already jeopardized system, potentially triggering cardiac arrest.

He's light on his feet as he moves through the forest, keeping an eye out for danger and taking strategic steps to keep from jostling her too much. They appear safe, but he walks with reasonable caution, knowing that a timer and a warning loom over each step.

Rose is in the throes of a medical emergency. If he can't find a suitable spot quickly, he'll have no choice but to set up a camp right on the forest floor. Even if he can regulate their combined temperatures for the duration of the evening without exhausting the limits of his physiology, they'll still be vulnerable and open to attack. His chances of survival are marginally better due to his species, but Rose is defenseless.

With that in mind, he walks quickly as he can, keeping his eyes wide and focused as he searches for anything he can use to increase their odds of survival. The entire time he moves, he's talking to Rose, hoping to keep her conscious. She's half-delirious, speaking in a slurred, jumbled cadence.

He tries not to dwell on the reality of her condition, on the fate that awaits them if he can't get her temperature up in time.

He shuts out the thought he might lose her, because he can't— and he _won't— _and that's that.

Miraculously, after about ten minutes, he finds a network of caves on the side of a relatively shallow bluff. He realizes they'd passed the ridge during their initial trek and completely overlooked it, having never thought it relevant to take note of any potential shelters in the area.

Lesson learned.

Several of the little caves are high up in the rock, therefore impossible to reach safely. There's one cavern peeking out through a spindly thicket of dead ivy that looks promising.

It might be perfect, though it's not even tall enough for either of them to stand in. It looks secluded, and that's what matters. It's shelter. It's going to have to do.

"Alright, Rose— we're going to go right in here, alright?"

She trembles out a painful acknowledgment that sends a spike of anxiety through his chest.

Get it together, the Doctor thinks to himself. Rose needs you.

Ducking down, he helps Rose to her knees behind him. He does almost all of the work, carefully guiding her through the net-like curtain of dead plant life covering the cave's entrance, tugging it back over to protect them from the elements. Time Lord or not, he's bloody freezing, but he couldn't give a damn. This is the only hope he's got of saving Rose, and there's not a split second to spare.

When finally they're both on the cave floor, he keeps his eyes riveted to his companion as he gets close to her and fishes around inside his coat pocket. It's dark, but with his stellar eyesight, he can see her paper-white skin, flushed cheeks, and the frozen puffs of air she exhales through the clicks of her chattering teeth.

"You're alright," he murmurs, heart aching at the sight of her. She looks like she's about to keel over, and though he'll most certainly be there to catch her if she does, his hands move like lightning through his pocket anyway. He's got to get her temperature up, and fast. "You're going to be just fine. Alright? We're just going to have a lie-down, and you're going to be absolutely perfect— just you watch, Rose Tyler."

Rose mumbles something he can't pretend to understand, so he nods and acknowledges it politely, yes-anding his friend to keep her aware while he removes a few essential items from his coat.

"Oh, please, please, please," he whispers shakily to himself as he digs through his pocket, remembering something he'd picked up ages ago but wasn't sure he'd stashed away or not. He searches until, finally, his fingers grasp a small bundle of folded fabric, and he breathes out with such a relieved whoosh that his entire body slackens from it.

"Ha!" He celebrates with a grin, swiftly working to untie and unravel the little bundle before spreading it out on the cold cave floor. Inside the packet is a long, thin rectangle made of special material from Tazmelora, a soft but durable foam pad that rapidly begins to expand before his eyes. "Have a look at that, Rose — a bed! Not a proper one, of course — gonna be a bit tight, I'm afraid —but we'll make do."

It's _much _better than nothing. The pad retains heat exceptionally well, providing a soft buffer between their bodies and the unforgiving ground. He briefly admonishes himself for not searching for it as soon as they'd reached his coat, but having little time to spare standing around exposed to the elements, he cuts himself some slack. Besides, their hidden cave offers better shelter.

The last thing he pulls from his pocket is something he knew was on hand: a bundle of small pouches about the size of a box of sandwich bags. Instant hot compresses. He removes three of the pouches and puts the rest away, grasping all three at once and squeezing them until an almost bubble wrap-like pop snaps across the walls of their enclosed space. Brilliant.

He sets the compress on top of their little 'bed' as they inflate and reaches into his pocket one last time, flashing Rose an apologetic look — but her eyes are almost closed. He doesn’t have to search long before he finds a large bundle of gauze, which he removes and begins to unravel, cutting long strips away with his sonic and wrapping a good, thick layer around each compress before setting them back on the foam pad.

With everything else now out of the way, he begins to pull his clothes off with feverish celerity, starting with his suit jacket.

"Right then, Rose," he breathes, tossing each sodden article of clothing to the side as he removes it, a pile forming as each bit hits the ground with a wet shlop, "I'm terribly sorry to say this, but erm, I'm going to have to remove your clothes."

"O-o-o-o-k-kay," she chatters quietly as the Doctor sets his shoes to the side.

He unbuttons his trousers and slips them from his freezing legs, then his pants, accomplishing his clothing removal with remarkable haste. Confident she can't see him, he kneels naked in front of Rose and carefully uses the sonic to cut her clothes from her body, not even thinking of stealing a peek outside of what's necessary.

It's dark regardless, almost entirely black in the cave that houses them. He knows she likely isn't aware of what he's doing, because she doesn't say a word — only shivers unremittingly.

After brushing the little pile of hot compresses to the side, he gently removes his coat from a weakly-protesting Rose and places his hands on her bare hips. Very carefully, he guides her onto their 'bed'.

"Shhh, just right here... Go on, I've got you… There you go." He smiles wide once he's got her down on the foam mat, and then he's back to business, pulling the coat up to her neck and tucking the heat packs inside.

He crawls behind her underneath the coat and distributes the heat sources around her body, strategically applying them to the best spots to raise her core temperature. He places one beneath her arm, then inserts one between her legs, gently pulling her thighs apart to press the warmth directly against her groin.

She shudders upon contact, and he whispers an apology. Not certain she registers his words, he moves on, wrapping an arm around her waist and drawing her body to his until every inch of her back, bum, and legs are flush with his front.

She's so freezing cold that the bite of skin-on-skin causes his jaw to clench, but he doesn't care, picking up and pressing the final compress to her chest and holding it there with the arm he wraps tightly around her.

With everything else done, he can finally focus his energy on generating warmth to donate through the touch of their skin, holding her body snugly to his and gently whispering into her ear: 'It's alright, you're alright, everything is going to be just fine, I've got you'.

He doesn't concern himself with rubbing her arms or legs, knowing that doing so could encourage blood to flood back into her slowly-warming core and put undue stress on her heart and lungs. He's not interested in any increase to her risk of death.

They've already made it this far. He’s not about to lose her now.

It's freezing outside, the last vestiges of daylight long bled from the sky, shrouding the cave in an all-encompassing night.

Beneath Janise Joplin's famed coat, however, warmth is beginning to take precedence over chill. Rose's shivers slowly morph from violent, tooth-clattering intensity to gentle, rolling vibrations that ripple beneath her skin.

Thank you, the Doctor thinks over and over to no deity in particular._ Thank you, thank you, thank you._

He's blessed with the endurance of a Time Lord, but after their unforeseen swim, propelling the pair of them through the forest and situating them in the cave, warming himself and Rose takes a tremendous toll on his system. The sheer amount of energy he's had to expend to generate all that life-giving heat is almost cosmic.

As such, it doesn't take long for him to grow exhausted behind her, but he staves off sleep long enough to ensure she's safely out of hypothermia, raising her temperature to 36.4 degrees celsius before he's even allowed himself a stable breath.

She's fast asleep by that point, her heartbeat and breathing picking up until her levels are below average but slowly rising. Rising is good. He can work with that.

Tucking her head beneath his, the Doctor carefully removes the hot compresses from under her arm and between her legs. Confident they'll be adequately warm beneath the coat, he awkwardly shifts one of the compresses down to their feet, keeping the other two lying in front of her just for the extra warmth.

Without thinking, he presses a kiss to her hair, more relieved than he's been since the day he saved them from being sucked into a black hole. He's overwhelmed with gratitude as he holds her, overjoyed that he's managed to beat the odds once more.

He rides that joy into a deep sleep, blissfully wrapped around the woman he loves.

Rose hums, low and long, as she's slowly lifted from her slumber, aware of a warm presence around her.

At first, she's too tired to question it, but then she feels a soft, warm breath exhaled against her neck and wakes with a quiet gasp. Her eyes fly open to find herself greeted with a dark wall of stone, as well as a multicolored pile of… Hmm.

She squints, willing her eyes to focus on what she sees.

Jeans.

A pinstriped suit jacket.

A jumper.

Possibly her least attractive pair of knickers.

And that's just the stuff she's able to see. The stuff on top of the pile.

Everything else comes back to her in fuzzy fragments. The wolves, the river, the Doctor pulling them to safety and dragging them through the forest.

Only minutely is she able to recall the buzzing sound of the sonic as he'd cut through her clothes, the feeling of his body pressing against hers.

His… equally naked body.

And that's when she grasps the true nature of what's happening: she's naked on a cave floor being spooned by the Doctor.

Her heart palpitates as breathing suddenly becomes taxing because, oh wow, oh god. Never mind that it's been ages since she's been naked in front of another human— she's never even imagined being naked in front of him.

Err, well, except when she…

Never mind.

Despite her valiant efforts to force her breathing to remain level, she feels the arm around her waist squeezing her, then there's a face nuzzling the back of her neck, and oh, he's not hard, but he's pressing forward with his hips, and she can feel all of him— warm and thick against her backside.

"Mmm," he hums quietly, then squeezes her again. "Rose."

"D-Doctor?" she chirps, her voice a quiet falsetto.

The arm he's secured around her waist goes slack as he moves to press his hand over her belly, fingers splaying before he proceeds to rub slow circles into her skin.

Though Rose is toasty-warm from head to toe beneath his coat, she shivers. She wonders just how conscious he is of what he's doing because, well...

Point blank, she couldn't imagine a reality where he'd so willingly caress her this way. She can't just push him off of her, can she? She also isn't really sure what the right move is just yet.

Would she even be able to?

Logic doesn't tend to factor in when one wakes to find themselves naked and being spooned by the man they adore.

He pushes forward with his hips again, and this time, Rose feels a pulse against her bum. Then another. Yeah, he's definitely getting hard now, and oh god, his hand is moving higher and higher up her torso, dragging a path across eager skin that's quick to respond to his touch.

If he isn't awake, he's probably about to be. With only mild panic, Rose believes he's doomed to jolt into full awareness as soon as he feels the pounding of her heart beneath his palm. With the way it's been thrumming in her ears, she's surprised it doesn't echo against the cave walls.

She can already feel herself trembling, and she wonders if he can feel it, too. Precious centimeters drift away beneath his slow-moving fingers, sparking every raring nerve and synapse until finally, he covers her breast. He hums quietly, almost _appreciatively, _cupping and squeezing the soft weight as goosebumps spread rapidly across her skin.

Now she knows he's asleep. He's never touched her so intimately, and she's got a bit of a gut feeling that he wouldn't in the first place — particularly without asking. She knows she's going to have to put a stop to whatever's going on, but her brain is at sixes and sevens, and _ooh, _he's very hard now, grinding into her bum and moaning almost achingly into the back of her neck.

As he rocks against her, she bites back a whimper, internal muscles squeezing and clamping down on nothing, desperately seeking a presence that teases her just inches away. Her nails find the foam pad they're lying on and sink achingly into it, letting off some tension as her teeth find her bottom lip.

He does it again— _blimey— _she can feel how he's shaped; can tell exactly how big he is. Can just about taste what it'd be like to have him nestled deep inside her, secured and slipping through her sex, filling and withdrawing before filling her again. He nuzzles closer, bringing his mouth so close to her ear.

"Rose," he murmurs, voice like sweet silk, touching his lips to her neck and kissing her softly. "Needed… this." She feels him throb powerfully against her as he moves his hips. "Mmm..."

Her heart melts at the sound of him, all raw and vulnerable. At the same time, a profound rush of heat roars beneath her skin, something that simmers and settles somewhere low, deep, and increasingly riddled with urgency. Moisture collects in that spot, readying her body, flooding her where she's so very close to him — where he could slip right inside with just the tiniest adjustment.

If he wanted to.

"Ooh," she moans, eyes squeezing shut, and she freezes again, panicked that she's allowed herself to respond in such a way when what she should be doing is stopping him. It's wrong, allowing this to go on— she knows it is— but she's scared. What if he's mortified? What if he blames_ her?_

"Rose."

His mouth is at her ear, his voice deep and thick with sleep. He murmurs something soft, something _gorgeous, _but she's got no idea what it is— only that it's far too structured to be sleepy gibberish. There's an almost-Italian-but-also-sort-of-Arabic resonance to it, yet entirely unique; something she can't even pretend to know how to accurately describe.

He slides his hand back down to her belly and presses her close as he nuzzles her neck, continuing to whisper to her, and that's when she realizes it must be his native tongue. It has to be.

Even in his sleep, it flows from his mouth like poetry.

She can't understand a word of it, of course. All she knows is that it's so beautiful, so enchanting, so _alien, _and she feels herself get choked up, like she's sharing something remarkably private and intimate with this beautiful being she's grown to know and love so very much.

Grinding into her again, he continues to whisper that magical, extraterrestrial spell. He says her name. He moves his hand over her breast again. His cock pulses firmly with the movement of his hips. He exhales in a shudder right above her ear.

She wants to have sex with him. She wants that very much. Wants to hear those same words in her ear while he fucks her; wants to feel them painted against her neck while she comes.

But she's got to stop him, because this isn't right. All of his sleepy touches and quiet words have made her very wet, almost uncomfortably so, and if he isn't even aware that he's been working her up like this, what right does she have to let him continue on in ignorance?

Right as she's working out a plan to extricate herself, the Doctor's hand slides up again. After running his fingers lightly over her breasts, he finds and begins to play with her nipples, moaning quietly as he uses his thumb on one and the tip of his middle finger on the other. Fuck. His erection slides against her again, _mmmf god damn it, _and she makes a quiet, strangled sound of need before she's got any hope of stopping herself.

As though he's been dipped in a vat of liquid nitrogen, the Doctor goes completely still and rigid behind her.

She holds her breath, once again digging her nails into the mat beneath them as she attempts to will the cave to collapse on them before she has to face him.

"Rose…?"

She burrows a little further beneath his coat. She isn't sure what to say, but she knows that he knows she isn't really asleep— knows he can feel how each tattered breath she draws causes her entire body to quiver with anxiety.

She hears him pull a deep breath through his nose, and then he tenses again. His cock jumps against her, and so quietly, he groans.

Can he…

No.

Can he_ sense_ the state she's in?

He exhales a long and heavy shiver, a soft noise drifting from his throat as he does. Rose swallows thickly, feeling a little twitch between her legs because she realizes that he can sense it. He can, and all signs seem to indicate that he doesn't necessarily detest the conclusion he's just drawn…

His hand retreats from her breasts, lingering briefly on the nipples he's teased to stiff and pointed attention. Rose shivers and stifles a moan, and then he places that hand on her shoulder, clearing his throat softly.

"Rose," he says again. This time, his voice is quieter but deeper. There's strain laced through his words, and his hand is almost trembling against where he touches her. “D-... Do you…” She just barely hears him lick his lips. "Do you want…"

Her heart feels like it might rupture in her chest. She's not exactly an expert on the topic, but it doesn't feel that far-fetched to surmise that she's not the only one who's overcome with nerves…

Or arousal.

There's been no decline in the intensity of his erection, which is still pressed firmly against her backside. If anything, it's gotten even harder, pulsing strongly and with more frequency— and the Doctor's voice and quivery breaths are nothing if not a full-on dead giveaway.

Rose's nerves are a fizzy mess of effervescence, every bit of_ need_ and yes and _now, now, now taking precedence over modesty. _It suddenly feels very much like a matter of now or never (if not _life or death, _for god's sake), and if she doesn't speak up while they're caught in the web of this pivotal crossroads, she might never have this opportunity ever again.

She takes one final breath to steel herself, sinking her nails into the pad again.

"You," she says with a sigh. "Always you." She pauses, closing her eyes. "Please."

The last word is added as though it's punctuating a prayer. It's everything she has to keep from crossing her fingers.

For a moment, there's nothing. Not a word, not even a breath or a breeze.

The world has gone still.

There are a few excruciating seconds where the Doctor removes his hand from her shoulder and begins to retreat backward, but Rose quickly realizes there's a purpose for his apparent departure. After adding a touch of distance between them, he props himself up on his elbow, pulling his coat back up from where it's been jostled from their shoulders.

Staying on his side, he tugs at Rose's shoulder in an attempt to guide her towards him.

At first, she thinks he's trying to roll her flat onto her back, so she follows suit, turning her upper body slowly. There's still that little bit of space between them.

When her shoulder comes into contact with his chest, she realizes he's only drawing her back until she's lying almost flat but half-supported against his torso.

Everything happens very quickly then, with the way he positions her. He blindsides her, reaching down between their bodies and slipping his hand between her thighs from behind. Rose jumps with a little gasp, but he's quick, gently wrapping his fingers around her inner thigh and guiding her leg up and over his hip. At the same time, he tucks his lower half closer to her.

Rose's heartbeat stutters. With them positioned this way, she can feel every inch of him where he's slid into the space between the ground and her arse. Thankfully, with the way he's got her propped up, there's no risk of crushing his ever-important appendage— but that's the furthest thing from her mind.

Though she can't remember ever being so nervous, she turns her head towards the Time Lord, and their eyes lock.

Finally. She is_ finally_ looking up at him, gazing into those deep brown eyes as he fixes her with an open and vulnerable gaze. He's never looked at her this way before; this way that makes her chest grow heavy and her mouth go dry. There's darkness there and _need— _but there's also a complicated meshing of emotions running through those depths.

Quite right. Really, can she blame him?

She's just about to say something— offer some reassurance; maybe an out or an apology, she isn't sure— but then his fingers find her cheek, and his eyes find her lips, and it's not two seconds later that he's bending down and sliding his mouth over hers.

Bliss and adrenaline spread through Rose's blood like fire. His lips are cool and soft, and it's been so long, and it's him — her Doctor — and it's exceptional. He's as naked against her as she is against him, and his cock is hard against the back of her thigh, and oh good god, she needs him; needs to feel his body connect with hers in ways that go beyond the realms of silly crushes and fantasy.

As if it was ever just _that _anyway.

She's never loved anything or anyone more, and for the first time, she's never been so confident that he loves her too.

It's not because he's kissing her like she's utterly beloved. It's not because he's presumably getting ready to give in to her, take that leap; share his body with her.

It's because, once again, he's saved her. Where he could just have easily given up on her, yet another comparably flimsy human succumbing to the fragility of her own biology, he risked everything to ensure her safety— even though it meant crossing lines he'd never dared to tread across before.

So many times, they've faced danger together and come dangerously close to losing. A number of those times, it was her fault, but he never even came close to telling her she had to go. That she couldn't stay; couldn't continue to travel with him.

In the end, all of their trials only served to bring them closer together. To make him care for her deeper, hold her closer.

The Doctor opens his mouth tentatively against hers and she follows, encouraging him; welcoming the slow, sweet slide of his tongue as it slicks past her lips. They both hum with affection at this newer, more profound form of intimacy, this lovely evolution of something so many have done before— but never them.

Never together.

His hand leaves her cheek and skims down her neck and chest with trailing fingers, briefly pausing to give each breast a light squeeze before venturing further.

Rose feels another twitching pulse between her thighs, driving her to tug at his hip with her calf. Blimey, her body knows as well as she does that he's_ right there,_ hard and ready and just inches away. It would take nothing for him to bury his cock good and deep inside of her and fuck her like nobody had ever fucked her before. She wants it so badly that sweat begins to bead up on her forehead as an itty bitty little frustrated growl rolls from her throat.

The Doctor hums a chuckle into her mouth and smiles around their kiss, then his hand is even closer, drifting past her navel, then skimming through the soft thatch of hair she never imagined he'd see— let alone touch.

Her chest is nearly aching from the battering drum of her heartbeat. She holds her breath. He's right there, he's just… he's…

Oh, fuck. The Doctor dips through her folds to find her soaking wet, and mmm, his touch is electric against her soft flesh. He moans and she arches and a shrill little sound empties from her mouth into his, and then he's got her clit beneath his fingertips, slip-slip-stroking, and oh _fuck, _oh god— oh god.

Now that he's got her thoroughly enraptured, he rubs her with smooth, lazy circles while his tongue dances around in her mouth. It feels fantastic, but straightaway, it's clear that he's more interested in the act of touching her than he is in the goal [for now].

So often— as in, almost always— sex has been something of a fast affair for Rose. That's not to say she's never enjoyed it, but it was never treated like _this— _slow and steady, yet deeply passionate. And he's barely even done anything!

Any bloke could get his tongue in her mouth and his hand between her legs, but this… This is so much more than that.

It's the period at the end of all of those tender smiles. It's the words he's never brought himself to say. It's the night they were almost pulled into a black hole, when she was almost positive he might join her in her bed, even just to comfort her, and didn't.

It's everything they are. Everything they could be. It spills into her mouth like a vow, a sacred covenant, but she doesn't need him to say anything. She expects nothing of him. She only knows that she'll share every part of herself with him that he seeks, and she'll do so not only because she seeks the same but because she loves him. God, she does— and that is the _only _thing that matters.

Rose's soft sounds grow increasingly urgent as long fingers maintain a gentle pressure between her lower lips, working her clit attentively as it slips and swells beneath his touch. With heavy, labored breaths, she rocks into his hand as they move in perfect sync; as though they've practiced this before — or perhaps as though it was always meant to happen.

When their mouths break apart, their lips are warm and wet, and it's superb, seeing the evidence of what they've been getting up to written all over the striking features of his face. It's an image that immediately fastens itself to Rose's memory as he partially bares his teeth, moving his hand lower so he can slip his fingers inside her.

"Doctor," she whines, dropping her head back as her eyes pinch shut. "Oh god, oh god..."

The Time Lord half-hums, half-moans as he pumps into her nice and slow, feeling his way through her sex with a careful sedulousness that makes Rose feel he adores the very ground she lays on. He's still fully hard against her backside, but to her surprise, he's practically shivering with nerves.

She knows he's _danced, _but the longer they lie beneath his coat, she finds she can't imagine how long it's been for him. Though his movements demonstrate the skill of well-practiced hands, he somehow seems even more nervous than she is.

Eyes opening slowly, her breath hitches at the way he's looking at her, gazing down as though he's looking upon the bright and cosmic resplendence of a supernova. His brown eyes are dark and shining, but they're gentle— like there's nowhere else he'd rather be than naked on that cave floor with her, taking his loving fill of her expressions while he fucks her with his fingers.

It's been deliberate, she realizes; the way he's holding her back from getting too close to the edge. He's been so engrossed in the experience, the unhurriedness of it, the intimacy. Like her, he is so beside himself with awe that this is even happening that he doesn't care about any finish lines or nonexistent time constraints. This is about them, nothing else, and they'll take as much time as they need.

Still, his eyes. She can't look away. Neither can he. It seems impossible; like they've been put under a spell or challenged to the universe's most sexy staring contest — one in which blinking somehow doesn't go against the rules.

Rose lifts her arm from where it's been lying across her torso, reaching up and sliding her fingers through his hair. It's gone a bit flat since the river washed it out, making it easy for her to really feel its thickness against her hand, and god, she wishes she'd done this ages ago. He makes a soft, needy little sound when, upon reaching the back of his head, she grips and tugs at the tresses.

Suddenly, he's pulling his fingers out to tease his way back up the seam of her, dropping a kiss to her forehead and gliding over her clit with full, white-hot determination.

There's no question of his intentions this time.

On the TARDIS, when she's alone in her bedroom and touching herself, she's always quiet, having grown a bit paranoid of what sounds might travel through the old timeship.

Even when she's returned home for short visits, her mum is usually always home, so of course, she holds back.

On top of all of that, she hadn't shagged anybody in eons; since before she met the Doctor.

For over two years, she's been enjoying her pleasure alone and in semi-silence.

Now, however… _so many _sounds fall from her lips, and they're sounds she's not used to making.

She sounds older now. Breathier, needier, sexier — and the Doctor seems rather taken with it. All the little tells flitter across his face as he so freely gives her pleasure, and it's mystifying how smoldering hot it is, seeing his sexual side after all this time. Having the privilege of being the one he's choosing to indulge in this sort of thing with, to let go with.

Rose wouldn't miss it for the universe.

Now that he's no longer holding back, he brings her to the edge with exceptional finesse, massaging her swollen clit until her little pleading sounds cannot possibly further increase in pitch. She's rigid all over, and he whispers for her to breathe, that's it, then he kisses her, slowing his caresses. God. He's a master, he's extraordinary, he's perfect.

Once his lips withdraw from hers, he goes right back to work on her, not missing a single beat.

Ribbons of tension string and tangle together all around the junction of her thighs until she's a hair's breadth away from much-needed release, slowly going quiet until her only sounds are tiny, shuddery little whimpers. Her eyes fall shut.

It's clenching inside her, all throughout her lower body, preparing her for what's about to happen. It almost tickles maddeningly, like something big and intimidating clawing around and trying to get out, and fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—

"Yes," the Doctor murmurs, lowering his forehead to hers. "Go on… Come for me, Rose. That's it…"

His words are the spark, and she breaks. It's indescribable how it erupts through her body, beginning with a burst of tingling warmth in her lower back that spreads and nearly overwhelms her. She's almost entirely silent, save for a few sharp little half-whimpers to ride the onset of each wave that crashes and cascades magical, billowing bliss.

As she comes, he continues to pet her, whispering in that same beautiful language she'd heard in his sleep as he kisses the tip of her nose, her cheek, and her lips. He does so until she goes from every muscle in her body tensing to dissolving into a pile of boneless, breathless relief in his arms.

After he's drained her orgasm of every ounce of its incredible power, his hand ceases to move between her legs, resting there as little more than a gentle presence. He smiles and bends his face down to her level, holding her gaze until he's practically nose-to-nose with her, and then he tilts his head to press his lips softly to hers.

His mouth doesn't demand much — merely savoring her; sharing in the beautiful surreality of what's unraveling between them.

Rose's hand unclenches his hair and slides down to rest on his shoulder, lightly stroking his skin. He's warm and smooth beneath her hand, coated with a light sheen of sweat, causing her fingers to drag with little beats of friction.

For several moments, they share a lovely, languid snog, which Rose spirals into as though she's been put under the influence of an especially delightful drug. He dotes on her with such exquisite tenderness, as though he's imagined and dreamt of this, too. Wanted her the same way she’s wanted him. Not just as a shag but as a proper lover; someone to not only share his body with, but to love and be loved by. Her heart swells until her cup runneth over, because nothing could be better than this.

Except, perhaps, a bed — but Rose is a beggar who won't dare tempt the fate of choosing. This is good. This is perfect.

How could it be that this happened this way? Was it just time? Were they getting ready to break, waiting for that last bit of straw to drift atop the universe's most precarious pile? Because while the circumstances that led to this weren't exactly arousal-inducing, there isn't the slightest indication from the Time Lord that would suggest he doesn't want this every bit as much.

To solidify that point, his hand suddenly leaves its post between her legs, and he breaks their kiss, not bothering to pull very far back from her face before reaching up to taste the slick of her sex on his fingers.

His eyes glaze over before shutting slowly, and Rose can only watch with a baffled expression of both awe and mild embarrassment. She's tasted herself before out of sheer curiosity, and it was nothing to write home about— yet the Doctor definitely isn't putting on an act. She can tell by how his cock twitches and his breath shakes, and little tremors run throughout him, rippling in waves beneath his skin. He's enjoying it.

Dark brown eyes slowly flutter open as he catches her in the molten crossfire of his stare. He pulls his fingers from his mouth, slowly licking his lips clean as his hand moves right back down her body.

Rose's heartbeat speeds up all over again: thump-thump-thump-thump.

Leaving a damp trail across her belly with the tips of his fingers, the Doctor pulls his hips back just enough to make room to wedge his hand between them. Every movement is fluid and smooth until Rose jumps when she feels his knuckles brush her arse, but she can feel exactly what he's doing; feel the telltale grasp of his length as he frees it from the space beneath her.

He looks away, but only for a second, glancing down her body to look between her still-spread legs. She feels another light brush, this time over the hair of her outer lips, and then he looks back into her eyes, holding her gaze intently. With a slow roll of his hips, he glides right up through her slit, splitting her sex with the firm, wet slide of his shaft.

A sharp but hushed cry escapes her as he moans something deep and desperate, and it feels and sounds marvelous, and oh shit, this is it. It's not a joke or a drill. They're actually getting ready to do this. They're actually going to fuck.

The slightly awkward addition of his arm between their bodies is quickly remedied when his hand retreats, allowing her leg to comfortably rest back in its spot over his hip. Reaching between her thighs from the front this time, he presses his length snugly back between her soft folds and smiles almost shyly when she whimpers in response.

To keep from slipping off-target, he keeps his hand pressed lightly over them both, maintaining just the right amount of pressure as he slowly begins to rock his hips up towards her body. Up and back, up and back, he pushes his cock against her, slipping against her sex, enveloping smooth skin in slick heat as he lavishes her clit with long, magical strokes.

"Yesss," Rose moves her hips down as he pushes up, distinctly hearing how wet she is as she slides up and down over his length. "God, fuck… Ahhhh." She runs her fingers through his hair to cling to him again.

"Doctor..."

He slightly increases the speed with which he slips against her, pulling heavy, uneven breaths, and fuck, he sounds so sexy like this that it makes her head spin. She needs him, wants him, and god, if he keeps teasing her…

"Please," she whispers.

"Tell me," his voice rumbles achingly against the shell of her ear, strained with the way he holds back. "Tell me, Rose."

"Fuck me," she says.

The Doctor practically purrs his assent, shifting just the tiniest bit. Rose swears she can feel her heart stop as he lines himself up right at her opening, and then he presses a light kiss right beneath her ear. "You're sure?"

His words are suddenly so quiet, so _diffident _that it makes her want to throw her arms around him. Is she sure. Unbelievable. She moves her hand around his head to cup his cheek, making sure he sees the certainty in her eyes.

"Yes."

The breath catches in his throat, and he swallows, giving one shaky nod. He takes a long, deep breath, then the next time he drives his hips up against her body, he finally sinks his cock into her.

"Oo-ooh…" Rose arches involuntarily, allowing her head to drop to the side, because he's there, he's inside of her, and it's everything she could have possibly hoped for. Jesus. She can't even believe it. She can hardly process the weight of emotion and sensation and 'Oh my god, we're actually doing this'. She thinks she might start to cry.

The Doctor moans and nuzzles her neck gently, tilting his head to drop his lips at the curve where it meets her shoulder. He brings his hand to her opposite cheek — the one nearly touching the mat — then he turns her face towards his, staring into her eyes.

"You feel amazing," he whispers, then captures her lips again. The kiss is lazy, and just a bit messy, and then they break apart slowly, reinstating eye contact.

This gaze is something entirely new. It's honest, raw, and gorgeous, and they smile at each other— the first full-on, proper smiles they've shared since before the wolves.

He kisses her one more time as he slides out, pauses, then thrusts deeply back inside of her.

Smiles give way to loosened jaws and hazy, unfocused eyes punctuated with soft gasps and moans. His hand glides over to her opposite shoulder to hold it for leverage, withdrawing, pausing, then plunging back into her tight heat.

"Oh…" Rose's eyes flutter closed. "God. Doctor…”

The Doctor sighs in what sounds like relief as he lays his forehead back over hers, and he begins to make love to her slowly, pushing up, then back, in, then out, only speeding up for the last couple inches of each thrust. His presence is heavy in her body, but it's lovely, and he feels so good— so _right—_all tucked inside of her like this, all slow plunges and sliding skin. They fit so well together.

Everything about this, from sensation to position, is new to Rose — even the act of sex outdoors. It's been a while, of course, it has, but they rock together like they were made to do this, and thank god she didn't die in the cold — because she'd never get to experience this. She'd never know how nice the Doctor's cock felt inside her when she was wrapped around and clinging to him.

Each time he pulls back, she misses his presence, but he quickly fills her again, giving her exactly what she needs, and it's so all-encompassing, so intrinsic. It feels significant, almost critical, as though the all-singing, all-dancing pleasure of the act is merely a by-product of their bodies' inherent, unspoken pleas to join together at last.

"Rose," he breathes as he drives into her with slow, firm thrusts, readjusting the arm he's been propped up on so he can slip it around her shoulders and hold her tightly against him._ "Blimey."_ His eyes close and his brows pinch together, then he moans breathlessly, beautifully, before he reaches down and begins to rub at her clit. "So good… That's it, just like that…"

This time, it's tiny, endless circles that he paints around her clit, stroking wetly over her nub in time with his rolling hips, and Rose's eyes slide back with a long, tortured moan. His coat has slipped enough to bare both of them from the chest up, but neither of them seems to care because their bodies are flushed pink and warm amidst their lovemaking. There's heat in abundance between them, and it's only growing hotter, especially as he tilts his hips just so, stroking even deeper with each push.

"Fuck," Rose gasps, feeling her lashes flutter. Every thrust fills her with everything he has, and she begins to whimper in seemingly endless repetition. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…"

Slowly, the Doctor increases his speed, continuing to work her clit with the tips of his fingers as he slips his cock into her with torturous determination. His hips now meet hers with a dull but audible beat of skin-on-skin, though it's drowned out by Rose's drawn-out, keening cries. She's getting close now, she's on the cusp, and the Doctor knows it. He grits his teeth through a rumbling groan and flicks his fingers over her clit as he whispers to her.

It's that language again,_ his_ language, soft and sweet and laced with sex, and it doesn't matter that Rose can't understand it — she feels it. She feels the meaning of his words, feels his intentions as her mouth drops open silently. She opens her eyes and meets his burning gaze once more.

He stares down at her as he pushes into her, his whispers growing faster and more urgent, words that transcend time and space as she finally comes apart beneath him, bending back with a cry as her climax washes over her in a flood of explosive heat.

The Doctor's hands and hips reign in the intensity so he can extend her release for her, slowly talking her through it. A litany of soft, pretty words flows freely and quietly from his lips in his mother tongue, which he punctuates with a gentle kiss.

The movement of his mouth is teeming with emotion as she drifts back from her high, catching her in a moment of such raw affection that she can't fight the tears that well in her eyes and spill over. He swipes them away when he finally pulls back, then he smiles.

"Hello," he chimes sweetly.

"Hi." She bites her lip and returns his smile almost bashfully, though she knows her face is probably an open book for how deliciously overwhelmed he's just made her. Him — the Doctor. Who's just bloody well gone and made love to her.

He hums a tiny chuckle, letting a few more seconds pass before he begins to shift their bodies again.

Rose is made from soft rubber at this point, so she allows herself to remain comfortably limp as he slips from her warmth and carefully lifts her leg from where it's been slung over his hip. His eyes stay fixed on her as he keeps her leg bent up close to her body, then maneuvers himself up over her, climbing in between her legs and propping himself up on one arm as he rearranges his coat back over them.

He reaches between them and slides against her just once, and then he's lining himself again.

"Okay?" He raises his eyebrows.

Rose finally releases her lip from between her teeth, winding her arms around his neck and beaming up at him.

"Yeah."

He draws a deep breath, smiles, and nods.

"Okay."

Clearly remiss to waste another moment that doesn't involve shagging, he thrusts firmly back into her, driving straight to the hilt with a low, ragged moan that she matches.

"Fuck," she whispers.

"Yeah," he agrees, then he withdraws and enters her with a harder thrust, hissing through gritted teeth. His eyes flutter shut. "Oh, Rose."

She wraps her legs high around his hips, hoping he understands as she tugs him closer. "Please, Doctor…"

His eyes open, and his pupils are blown wide as he slides his tongue across his lips. He lowers his face to hers for a kiss, then rests his forehead against hers, sliding a hand down to hold the back of her thigh. He's still for a moment as his thumb swipes back and forth across her skin, breathing heavily, taking a second to keep them suspended in time — one last pocket of serenity.

He kisses her again, just one more time, before he draws back and begins pounding ruthlessly into her.

This time, his thrusts are all powerful, unrelenting intensity. It's breathtaking. He fucks her hard and fast while she holds onto him with everything she has, wailing so loudly that they might wake every blasted wolf in that forest, and she couldn't care less. She can die happy now, after being shagged like this.

The Doctor lifts himself up to look at her again. Somehow, even with the way he slams into her with reckless abandon, there's still a tenderness bleeding through his gaze that makes her stomach drop and her heartbeat falter. He squeezes her thigh and shifts so he's hooked his hand beneath her knee, holding her up and open to get a better angle, and fuck. Rose's mouth hangs open, a gateway for every primal, piercing sound he draws from her, because the way he fills her is unparalleled. It's intoxicating.

She can tell he's getting close, can see it in the haziness of his eyes, hear it in the grating of his moans. She can feel him growing increasingly taut above her, and she takes a second to memorize how utterly beautiful it is to see him like this, to watch him separate himself from all pretense and control in favor of surrendering to his desire for her. The visual is so spellbinding it feels forbidden to look upon, and along with the full, thick slide of his cock inside her, it's enough to push her right back to the precipice.

"Please," he breathes as his thrusts become increasingly unpolished, releasing her leg so he can reach down and play with her clit._ "Fuck,_ Rose — please..."

Within seconds, her orgasm crashes through her. The Doctor gasps, only having an instant to watch her before he finally starts to come, pulled over that perfect edge when he feels her clamping rhythmically around him.

They cry out together, shaking and jerking from the force of it, and somewhere in the thicket of their shared release, she hears more of those words as he spills inside of her; those lovely, secretwords. They amplify the sensations tenfold, another marker for why this is so much more than just sex and more than any sex she's had before. It's otherworldly.

When they come down, panting and spent, the Doctor's face is right over hers as she unclasps her legs from around his body. Still catching his breath, he smiles almost sheepishly.

"On my life, I didn't plan that," he says. "I fell asleep thinking I'd wake up to you screaming in horror."

Bubbling with waves of euphoric bliss, Rose bursts into laughter. "You're having me on. Like you thought I'd have any trouble waking up starkers with you."

"Oi," he protests with the least convincing glare ever, "I only meant to protect you! I never intended for it to lead to… to this."

Rose feels herself growing shy again. "But…" She swallows hard, feeling her pulse quickening. "You don't… Y'know. You don't regret it… Do you?"

His eyes widen, and he lifts himself up to really, properly look at her. "Oh, _blimey, _no. Not at all. I just feel it's imperative I inform you: I went into this with nothing but the utmost of honest, noble intentions." His expression softens, and Rose can feel the weight of his words when he says: "I can't even begin to tell you how scared I was of losing you, Rose Tyler."

Once again, her stomach drops, and her eyes begin to burn. She licks her lips. "I'm sorry I slipped."

He smiles tenderly at her. "I'm the one who got us lost. I'm sorry." His eyes flick to the side, arching a brow at the pile of clothes lying less than a meter away from them. "And I went and ruined your favorite trousers."

Rose turns her head, now adjusted to the light enough to see the pile properly. She smirks, looking back up at him.

He narrows his eyes. "What?"

She giggles, playing with the now-dampened hair on his nape. "Nothing. S’just…”

"... Just what?"

"Nothing!"

_"Roooose," _he whines, looking exceptionally put out, and she relents.

"Oh, fine." She sighs. "I was just, you know, thinking…" She absentmindedly traces the hairline where it meets his neck. "If it means getting shagged like that," she smirks wickedly, "you could ruin everything I own if you wanted."

His eyes widen again, this time with pure, fiery intrigue. There's a pulse where he's still nestled deep, and she can _feel _him getting hard again inside her.

"Yeah?" he purrs, pressing himself a little deeper.

She nods. "Y-yeah."

A vast, smug grin practically splits his face, and Rose rolls her eyes.

"Shut up." She smacks his back, unable to wipe her own grin off her face. "Like you didn't know."

"Mmm." Now fully hard, he pulls his hips back and thrusts firmly into her, effectively wiping both of their smiles away so they can shiver and moan in laborious tandem. "I'll… erm. I'll certainly keep that in mind."

With a renewed surge of arousal, Rose starts to wrap her legs around him, but he shakes his head, reaching back to extricate himself from her grippy limbs.

"Sorry," he says guiltily, slipping out of her again, knocking her arms from around his neck as he pushes himself up and back to sit on his haunches. "Not just yet."

With an incredulous gape, Rose pushes herself up on her elbows. _"What? _Why not?"

"Later… minx. We've got to get back to the TARDIS while it's still safe." He smirks again, taking his coat from where it's fallen behind him and briskly sliding it over her until it's concealed her entire body. He pats her knee through the coat in the most annoyingly platonic move he's made all morning, then reaches over and begins gathering up the pieces of his suit. Slipping the sonic from his coat pocket and changing the setting, he begins the tedious process of drying everything.

Rose is so sexually frustrated that she hardly even allows herself to appreciate the view of the Doctor naked and kneeling in front of her; the way the planet's distant sun shining through the vines creates a corona around his body that makes him look like a bloody god.

As if he needed any help with that.

"But it's hours before nightfall," she whines, feeling only slightly like a toddler.

"Yes," he concedes, "but I think you'll find, Rose Tyler, that sex is far more enjoyable when had somewhere that isn't a cave floor." His eyes flash to hers with a tinge of mischief, and then he returns to his task. "Somewhere nice and warm and soft… Somewhere like, oh, I don't know — my _bed, _perhaps?"

Images begin flooding Rose's mind in rapid succession. Shagging the Doctor in a bed. In the shower. On a counter. On the couch at her mum's. On the floor of her room. Her cheeks flush a vibrant, almost glowing red.

They shag now.

"O-okay," she peeps.

The Doctor flashes another smirk, looking entirely too smug. "Okay?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

The next few minutes pass in silence but for the whirring of the sonic. While the Doctor dries up his clothes, Rose lies back and daydreams about the unbelievable possibilities of their future, worrying more than once that she's doomed to wake up and find this was all just a figment of her imagination.

Once he's dressed with everything packed back into his pockets, the Doctor fetches some twine and begins to wrap the coat around Rose, tying the string around her at several points until she's strung up like a Christmas roast.

As they push the dried vines away from the mouth of the little cave and step out into the open air, he elects to leave her cut clothes behind, declaring that they'll need to come back a little better prepared in the future to commemorate their serendipitous first time.

"Off we go then?" He extends his arm, beaming down at her.

Rose loops her arm through his, returning his smile.

"Please."