Posted also on Teaspoon.

Watching Rose Tyler does a jealous Time Lord make.

Not that the Doctor would ever admit it to anyone, much less himself, that he's jealous. Nope, not him. As a Time Lord, he's above that.

Except that he isn't.

Rose's untouched Screwdriver sits on the bar next to his lonely whiskey. His brain reminds his hearts to ignore the similarities in color between his drink and her eyes. He lifts it just under his chin, swirling the tumbler so the ice cubes clink together. He takes a sip, letting the smooth, spicy liquid slid down his throat.

Jack's excused himself for the night, already on the arm of an attractive Pulepsian. Then again, even the ugly Pulepsians are beautiful, but the point stands.

Rose has found a small group of natives to dance with. They've taken a liking to her long yellow hair and slinky club dress, apparently. He scoffed at the word; he'd seen longer shirts than the alleged "dress". Though, the metallic baby pink did flatter her curves – no. He's scum, low, degenerate, reprehensible - "Doctor?"

He hasn't noticed Rose sit next to him, so wrapped up in his thoughts at the moment. She picks up her drink, the ice melting already in the heat of the club, and downs almost half in one go. He is inexplicably drawn to the sheen of sweat glittering on her brow and neck. He gets an urge to sink his teeth into soft, pale skin.

Luckily, Rose starts talking to him. Unluckily, her mouth is just... distracting. Those sweet, glossy lips. He longs to nibble them, meet her tongue with his, devour the taste of the bitter vodka and sweet orange. Her petal-soft cheeks are flushed to a gorgeous pink, the rosy hue continuing down her neck to disappear into her dress. She's sitting there talking to him, he's not listening, and suddenly her dress rides up and she licks her lips and it's too much.

He seized her hips and she's on his lap (how did that happen?) and his mouth and tongue are drinking her in, plundering the warn cavity.

And then her hands are roving over his chest and her tongue is wrapping around his, a gentle counterpoint to his hungry caresses. The Doctor's hands slide from her bum to her breast and upper thigh. The latter pushes the skirt up, inch by inch. His head spins and she gasps out loud when he encounters wetness.

He stands suddenly, her legs automatically locked around his hips, and he doesn't even care how ridiculous and desperate they look as he carries her outside. In his haze, it's a miracle they even find the TARDIS at all. He's moments away from just taking her right there, shagging her against the wall. But she unlocks the door and he stumbles inside still holding her, a little top-heavy and drunk on lust.

The minute the door clicks shut, the Doctor's jacket is off due to some eager hands scrabbling at the leather and pushing it impatiently down his arms. It hits the grating, and he leaves it there, far too caught up in sucking Rose's neck to care. She whimpers breathily as his teeth scrape a pulse point.

Somehow, they end up in her room. He drops her unceremoniously on her bed so he can pull off his jumper and get rid of his belt. Kneeling at his feet, Rose works his boots and socks, then pulls his trousers down. He steps out of them as she straightens, reaching behind her and lowering the zip of her shiny, skintight dress. It slides off of her and he realizes that along with the knickers, she's also nixed the bra.

He's motionless a long moment, just watching her as she stands there, naked and stunning.

He wants to ravish her. He wants to take her completely, pound into her, claim what's his so no one will ever presume again. He wants to worship her slowly, reverently. Wants to make her come hard, screaming for her Doctor, wants to taste her and ruthlessly torture her with pleasue.

She bites her lip at his hot, intense stare, glancing down at her blue-polished toes.

He loves her.

Her head snaps up as he stalks towards her, eyes glittering with lust. Her own eyes shine with mischief as her fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers, and her tongue graces her grin. He kisses her again, because he can, and bends her backwards until she lays down and he crawls over her, bracing himself on his forearms.

Her hot hands graze his hips and he bucks against her, feeling her heat even through his boxers. She pushes at them impatiently until they're halfway down his thighs. He kicks them the rest of the way off, kicks them off the bed just in time for her to grasp him so he gasps and shudders (it's amazing what this sweet, young human can do to him) and she positions him where they both want him to be. Her hips lift up, just a little, and he's suddenly sobbing dryly, inside her at last, drowning in her sweet bliss and trying to hold on a little longer but she mews in pleasure and he's gone. His eyes almost roll back as he thrusts, in and out of her and soon she's convulsing, spasming around him, beneath him, crying out to him in mindless, agonizing pleasure.

And then he's joining her, oh, if she only knew how much she means to him, what she's done to heal him. He comes nearly immediately after her, spilling into her and slumping over her prone form. His arms don't work anymore but his mouth does and he's confessing his love for her between kisses ranging from chaste to searing.

She beams, her eyes misting over, and wriggles a little. He smiles back, unable to resist her brilliance, then loves Rose Tyler again.