A/N: Thank you to everybody who reviewed or put this story into their alerts or favourites :) As promised, here comes the smutty chapter, which concludes this story. Enjoy!

ACROSS THE VOID

VII.

For the first time in months, Rose slept soundly.

She knew the Doctor had moved her to her bed, in that strange, hazy way that came with never properly awakening from deep sleep. She'd felt movements, followed by an increase in softness and warmth, but beyond that, she had no recollection of going from the control room to her bedroom. All she knew was that he'd laid back down with her; she'd sought him out, even in her drowsy state, unwilling to let him go.

When she woke up, however, she was most definitely alone.

His absence did not worry her. She was not a 'morning' person, and he knew it – so did the TARDIS. The light that permeated her windowless room was familiar. Soft and non-intrusive, yet warm, as if dawn was well underway, the sun slowly rising over the horizon.

Rose let herself wake up slowly, her face mostly buried in her pillow; every time she breathed in, her lungs filled up with him, proof that he'd been here with her for quite a few hours. When grogginess finally left her body, she extracted herself from the fluffy comforter, taking a look at herself.

She still wore yesterday's clothes, except for her shoes, which he must have taken off her. Everything had dried as she slept, but she felt crummy; she'd never liked sleeping in the day's clothes, and considering the amount of sweat-inducing situations she'd found herself in these past twenty-four hours, she longed for a lengthy shower.

Rose indulged in that, too, the TARDIS proving she didn't hold any grudge regarding the 'imploding supernova' incident by making sure the water was the perfect temperature and pressure.

When she left the en suite and walked back into her room, she found the Doctor sitting at the edge of her bed, offering her his profile, spectacles perched on his nose. He was fiddling with some kind of device, wires and components spewing on his lap.

"I made you tea," he said in way of greeting, everything from his tone to the fact that he did not look at her letting her know he was properly wrapped in his examination.

"Thanks", she said, spotting the steaming cup. She smiled as she picked it up, recognising the smell of her favourite flavour. Leaning against the dresser, she watched as he worked, quickly realising that the device he'd taken apart wasn't just any device. "You rummaged through my clothes again," she noted with the smallest hint of disapproval.

"Had to," he replied simply, as if they'd never had conversations about whether or not looking through each other's belongings was socially acceptable. "I wanted to understand how you made it back. You shouldn't be here."

Rose gulped down too much of her tea, grimacing as the liquid burned its way down her throat. His words had a similar effect on the rest of her gut. She'd lived with him long enough to be familiar with his occasional lack of tact, not to mention that everything in his behaviour thus far pointed towards him being pleased with her reappearance.

The comment still stung.

"I'm not gonna apologise for it," she said.

She may have said it more coldly than she intended to, judging by the way he stilled. "Apologise?" He repeated, confused, finally lifting and turning his head to look at her. "Why would you apologise?"

She gave a half-shrug, her fingers drumming lightly on her cup. "Dunno. You make it sound like I've offended the universe or som'thing."

She expected him to delve into a longwinded explanation as to how she had indeed disregarded and broken ten thousand physical laws, but to her surprise, he did not say anything at all.

He wasn't actually looking at her anymore, not really, his eyes having dropped lower, examining her attire.

When seconds stretched into nearly a minute, she cleared her throat, her face warm. "You're staring," she noted, her voice quieter, all trace of coldness gone.

"You're not wearing clothes," he pointed out.

The flush in her cheeks went up a notch. "I'm wearing a robe," she corrected him.

"Yes, I can see that," he said, his eyes still taking in the thin garment. She was aware that the robe was not exactly opaque, something he seemed to have noticed, too.

"I took a shower," she felt the need to explain, although surely a genius like him shouldn't need her to spill it out. "My clothes are in here. I haven't had a chance to dress, yet."

"Indeed," he concluded, moving his eyes away from her with some reluctance, blinking at the device on his lap. "Would you like me to go?"

Rose put the cup down on her dresser, the noise drawing the Doctor's gaze again. "No. I'd like you to tell me why this is bothering you so much," she said, pointing at the mess he'd made.

More slowly than necessary, he raised his gaze to her face. They stared at each other in silence for another stretching instant, letting the tension grow steadily, unhurriedly.

"You shouldn't be here," he said again, quietly.

"You've said that already," she reminded him, and he shook his head slowly.

"I have, but…I mean it literally, Rose. This," he shifted upon the bed, sitting so that he was facing her, brandishing the ruined device. "This is crude, almost grotesque. It shouldn't have worked. I just…I don't understand how it managed to pull you through, when realistically, the most it could have done was disrupt your molecular cohesion."

She brought both her hands to his raised one, pressing and squeezing upon skin and metal. She took the device from him, carelessly dropping it on the floor. It didn't even make a sound as it fell, having landed on one of her many discarded clothes.

"Does it really matter, how it worked?" She asked him softly, pushing forward against his knees in a wordless request, until he opened his legs to let her stand between them.

His now empty hands had anchored themselves on her hips, and she pressed her palms upon his cool skin, in reassurance as well as consent, gently wrapping her fingers around his wrists. He was very still, as he stared up at her through his lenses.

"It could have killed you," he said, his voice low, slightly hoarse. "Should have killed you." He swallowed hard. "Why would you take such a risk?"

Rose brought both her hands to his face, cupping his jaws. She didn't possess his telepathic abilities, but she was becoming more fluent in this language. She saw herself as she had been, on Dårlig Ulv Stranden, his projection standing so close to her, yet unable to feel him anymore.

She focused on the pain and loneliness she'd seen in his eyes, felt her own heart breaking again at the raw memory. His grip tightened on her waist as he leaned into her touch, letting out a shaky breath, affected by the emotions she was sending through.

"I couldn't leave you all on your own," she whispered, her thumbs gently tracing the dash of freckles on his cheekbones, right below the rims of his glasses. She took them off him, then, discarding them on another pile of crumpled clothes.

When she turned back to face him, he slid his arms around, and she followed, cradling his head against her chest. "I told you," she breathed into his hair. "I'm not leaving you."

The transition from standing between his legs, locked in his embrace, to straddling him at the edge of the bed, was somehow lost to her. Not that it mattered, letting her intuition guide her, only seeking closeness. Judging by the way he held on to her and sank into her kiss when she brought their faces together, he shared her longing. She rolled her hips into him as her tongue stroked his, slowly, deliberately, grazing his scalp with her nails a she did so. She did it again…and again…until he was moaning into her mouth, his grip on her so tight it was almost painful.

He was responding in all the right ways, her own body flushing at the feel of him, yet there was too much tension in him. While her fingers slowly roamed his hair, alternating soft pulls with the raking of his scalp, his movements so far had been purely reactive, even in the way he kissed her back.

Rose slowed down, halting the swaying of her hips.

She pulled her face slightly away from his. "When you say you haven't done this in a long while…" she breathed against his lips, and he reopened his eyes. "How long exactly is a long while, in Time Lord years?"

"Oh, you know," he said, his voice low, breathless. "A few…decades. A couple of regenerations."

She let herself sit back closer to his knees, looking at him in a bit of a shock. "You mean you've never…" Her voice trailed off.

He frowned, somewhat offended by her insinuation. "I'm almost a thousand years old, Rose. I have done this before."

She bit down on her lip. "Never in this body, though?"

He coughed lightly, unconvincingly, and his cheeks, which were already pinker than usual, darkened even more. "Well, I guess not. Not that I'm foreseeing any major issues. So far it seems to be responding rather positively to you."

She smirked, bringing herself closer to him again, until she felt his rather positive response against her, drawing a sharp breath out of him. "I've noticed, yeah."

He brought a hand to the back of her head, weaving his fingers through her hair, using his grip to pull her back to him, obviously eager to move on from this particular topic. She indulged him, soon resuming this slow rocking of her hips they both seemed to approve of so much…

…until she pulled away again. "Decades, really?"

Eyes closed with an exaggerated pout, he sighed, heavily. When he reopened them, she saw how hazy they'd become, this body of his affected by this alright. "It's really not that unusual for Time Lords to go entire lifetimes without sexual intercourse," he said, matter-of-factly. "For most species, the main purpose of sex is reproduction. Long before the Time War started, we stopped being able to reproduce sexually, so we found other ways. Most of my kind became disinterested in the physical act, preferring to seek intimacy through telepathy instead."

"But…you haven't done the intimate telepathy thing for a while either," she reminded him, unnecessarily.

"No," he confirmed.

"Not even in this regeneration?"

"Nope."

"What about…" she started, until he pressed a finger to her lips.

"I'm usually the one who talks too much," he said. "I'm a bit confused. I understand why any human would be shocked at the thought of spending such a long time without having sex, but I'm not quite sure why you are so surprised by it. You've been with me from the moment I regenerated in this body. We spent about every hour of every day together after that. When exactly did you think I could have done any of this? And more importantly, with whom?"

Her flushed cheeks got warmer still, backed into a corner she would rather have avoided altogether. "No one," she lied with a shake of her head.

But she couldn't lie to him, close as they were, her own brainwaves betraying her. She couldn't stop herself from thinking about the beautiful French courtesan he'd almost brought onto his ship, back when Mickey was travelling with them.

The Doctor's face slackened in surprise. "Reinette?"

She closed her eyes, unable to hold his gaze, all too aware that she'd brought this upon herself by prodding. Sure, now that he'd admitted to being a nine hundred years old Time Lord trapped in a virgin body, she felt ridiculous for thinking he might have done more than party during his brief stay in Versailles. She'd had quite a few reasons to let her imagination run wild at the time, though, and really, she couldn't exactly help it.

Stupid human brain.

"Rose…" he spoke her name quietly, the sound so reminiscent of that one dream that shivers broke under her skin, which erupted in a fresh wave of goose bumps.

When she felt the light press of his fingertips upon her temples, she reopened her eyes, her gaze locking with his, their faces so close. "May I?" he asked, and all she could do was nod in his hands.

She tried to keep her eyes open, but from the moment he sparked that connection between them, she was pulled inward, entirely focused on what he was doing. While he'd swept through her like a heatwave the previous night, he simply maintained an open link between them this time.

This was weird, and nearly impossible to describe indeed.

She felt like another kind of infinity extended in front of her…soon realising that this infinity she felt was him, her Doctor, all of him for her to see and take and feel.

Clumsily, she pressed forward with her mind, feeling as if she was stumbling through a soft, dazzling mist. He was around her, then, catching her, steadying her, his very mind embracing her the way his arms had so often embraced her body.

She felt warm. Warm, safe, and loved.

Without any word at all, he let her feel how much she meant to him, how much he valued her, not only as his companion and closest friend, but as her own person. How terribly, terribly lonely he'd been before she came into his life, how lonely he'd become again after losing her.

I need you, is what echoed in every inch of her.

Rose suddenly ached with the strength of her own feelings for him, overtaken by a combination of love and lust, these emotions tinged with lingering loss, letting it all ripple from her mind to his, and back again.

He pulled her deeper into him, wrapped his very soul around her, through her.

In this state of complete open-mindedness, she was oddly aware of her physical body, as if this bond that stretched so tightly between them caused all of her nerves to be exposed, sensitive to his every move. Not that he was moving much, his hands on her face, both of hers firmly clasped upon them, their faces pressed together, breathing the same warm air.

And again, what she felt from him was a curious hesitancy, sensing his longing, yet awaiting both her permission and directions. One of her hands tightened around his and began pulling it down, pushing it through the hems of her robe as she sent him one single thought.

Touch me.

She pressed his palm upon her breast, and her whole body flushed with heat when he responded slowly, squeezing, massaging. Her hand remained on his, nails digging into his skin, but he hardly needed any more guidance, his thumb soon flicking and pressing upon her tensed nipple. As she gasped, so close to his lips, that other connection began to change.

Somehow keeping her safe in his own head, he sank back into her mind, following a path she recognised from the night before. He did it slowly this time, going deep, so deep within her, as if he was looking for her.

Rose opened herself to him, putting up no barrier, opposing no resistance; when he did find her, her entire being shuddered at the ethereal feel of him. While his hand elicited nerve responses through physical contact, something she was familiar with, the way he aroused her very mind was unique, and quite incredible. He caressed her not with touch, but with need, every brush of him upon her reminding her of how much he wanted her, craved her, adored her.

He did not relinquish, pressing and releasing in turn, always a little bit harder, a little bit longer; Rose was acutely aware of the similar pattern his fingers were following upon her breast, causing another kind of heat to shoot through her nervous system, down to where she was aching. The two sensations were out of steps, at first, feeding off one another, mind…body…mind…body, until that one moment when they synchronised. Pleasure kindled in every inch of her, causing her to sway her body into him, seeking more contact, more friction, unable to control or to care about the sounds escaping her throat.

It happened fast, then, in a quick succession of perfectly harmonised pressures, inside and out, touching her, needing her, loving her, sending her higher up that peak, up…up…up she went, until she was shattering against him, and all she saw was light.

When the brightness receded, Rose found herself quite alone in her own head.

She didn't grieve the loss of him, rather grateful for this opportunity to breathe; their bodies were still pressed together, her nose into his shirt, both his arms inside her robe, hands splayed across her back, holding her to him as his breath tickled her neck. She felt dazed, almost groggy, her body wondrously boneless.

When she felt the flick of his tongue upon her skin, she didn't need telepathy to know this wasn't meant to be sexy in any way.

"You just tasted me," she noted drowsily against his shoulder.

"You humans are so salty," he stated, amazed. "Tears and sweat alike. Fascinating, really, when you know that on a mere physiological level, the human body only contains an average of naught point fifteen percent of – "

The last of his scientific observation turned into an odd, squeaky noise; Rose's tongue had found the skin of his neck, interested in gathering another kind of information, trying to find out if she could make him squirm a little, and possibly shut up.

She was successful in both aspects.

"Verdict?" He asked, his voice having dropped again, affected by her teasing, yet genuinely curious to hear what she'd have to say about Time Lords and their saltiness. If she gave him the opportunity, he would probably grab a notepad right now, put his specs back on, and start making notes for future reference.

She pulled away, one hand grabbing at his tie, pulling on it to loosen it. Her body was still tingling from the ridiculously powerful orgasm he'd drawn out of her, but it had done nothing to appease her craving for him, aching to touch him now. She'd never admit it, but she also happened to be more than a little affected by this brainy side of him; always had been.

"My verdict is that you're wearing way too many clothes and that you need to be naked."

He tilted his head, obviously taken aback by this answer, so far off from the scientific statement he was expecting. He did give her a small, understanding nod, though, lips barely pouting. "Fair enough." They both went for his shirt buttons, but he quickly swatted her fingers away. "Now that would be counter-productive."

Rose didn't fight him, discarding of her own robe while he took care of his shirt. She did not get a chance to focus on his newly exposed skin at all, as the Doctor found himself instantly taken by the sight of her bare body.

Soon, she was cradling his head again as he pressed lingering kisses across her collarbone and chest. He took more samples as he went, murmuring her name at regular intervals, his hands traveling up and down her thighs, too slowly, yet just fast enough. She let him explore, eyes closed, unable to complain about being subjected to such reverence, his caresses only fuelling her desire to hold him closer.

She started to focus all of her thoughts on one clear image, picturing herself lying on her back in the middle of the bed, with him securely trapped between her legs; she knew the instant he received her suggestion. His grip on her changed at once, his hands leaving her thighs, sliding behind her and squeezing, pulling her to him with a low groan as he sought her lips and he completely shifted their position, sinking onto the bed and rolling them over. Her legs locked around his hips, one of his hands finding hers, intertwining their fingers together and pinning them firmly near her head as he rippled and swayed, his turn to try and create more contact.

Rose let go of his lips, overwhelmed by the feel of him upon her. "Doctor…" His name came out in a breathy moan. He rested his forehead against hers, his free hand back on her face, hot breath upon her parted lips.

"What do you want?" He panted, almost pleaded, his fingers on her temple opening her up to him again.

She sent a flurry of images through his mind, unable to decide what she wanted, or needed, wanting it all, imagining the feel of his tongue on her breasts, his fingers between her legs, both of them bare of clothes, culminating in what she imagined it would be like to feel him deep inside of her, throbbing, thrusting.

He abruptly broke the connection, letting out a stream of strangled words she could not understand as his lower body pushed her deeper into the mattress, his face coming to rest against her neck. He began tracing a wet path across her collarbone, down to her breast, no longer simply tasting. When he reached her nipple, he curled his tongue around it, before sucking it between his lips; she let out a loud sigh, her back arching off the bed, her fingers twisting his hair. His free hand held on to her hip, pinning her to him, while keeping her from leaving the mattress completely.

Eager to please her, and clearly trying to fulfil the requests she'd burned in his mind, he shifted upon her, allowing his hand to come between them, swiftly sinking through the wet heat of her folds, fingers curling. The gesture was too sudden, and more intrusive than she would have liked it to be, instantly tensing against him, a hand coming down to grab his wrist in a halting gesture.

He didn't need her hiss of discomfort to realise he'd mucked that up, trying to pull away from her, shaking his head with a grimace, eyes closed.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," he muttered, still trying to move away.

Rose kept him there, his hips enclosed between her knees, a hand in his hair, the other one holding on to his wrist, pinning it to the mattress for the time being.

"T's okay," she told him, pulling his head down until his nose was bumping hers, and she gently nibbled at his bottom lip. "It's just…like that 'cucumber' thing last night, yeah? Being eager's nice, but you gotta take it slow."

He let out a small noise of protest. "It's really not cucumber, though," he couldn't help but say, the last syllable muffled as she'd pulled him down into a kiss.

She kissed him slowly, with her whole body, undulating beneath him, against him, her free hand cajoling his hair in a series of calculated pulls and scalp grazing, until he was giving in again, his muscles relaxing, letting himself rest more heavily upon her. She hadn't let go of his wrist, soon using her grip to bring his hand back between her legs, directing him, showing him her preferred pace. When his fingers found the small bundle of nerves that hid there, and he wisely decided to focus all his attention on it, the moan she let out into his mouth was genuine. Before long, he didn't need her guidance at all, clever enough to pick up on what pleased her and what didn't, leaving her hand free to roam.

Needing to feel more of him, and thinking it was about time she returned some of his attention, she sneaked her fingers past the waistband of his trousers. She barely had time to feel the characteristic heat of him, so close to her hand, that he was tensing again, pulling away from her, his turn to grab her wrist.

"Ah, bad idea, better not," he managed to say, obviously flustered and equally aroused, his voice shaky, his eyes hazy with lust. When she raised an eyebrow, he continued: "I am quite aware of how inexperienced this particular body is, not to mention how responsive it is to you. I don't think that you touching me there would be very practical in the long run."

Being told that she shouldn't touch him only made her want to do it more, half-tempted to free her hand from his loose grip and remind him of how stubborn she could be, aching at the simple thought of putting her hand on him, and making him lose control completely. She didn't fancy turning this into a battle of wills, though, even if all she wanted was to please him.

She moved her hand out instead, bringing it to his backside, pulling on the fabric of his trousers. "These really need to come off, then," she noted, and they spent the next few moments fumbling with the rest of his clothes.

Finally, they were blissfully naked, her legs already back around his waist, most of his body resting heavily upon her, his nose pressed into the crook of her neck, as close as they could be without being joined, feeling the relentless heat of his so close to hers.

Rose did her best to remain still, aware of the tremors that shook his body, sensing how dazed he felt, the sensations delightful in nature, yet overwhelming nonetheless. She did move her hands, slowly, bringing them up to his head, one of them cupping his nape while the other sank though his slightly damp hair.

This caress alone caused him to quake against her, his breath heavy and hoarse upon her skin.

"We can stop, if it's too much," she said softly into his ear.

His breathing halted, before she felt him shake his head, his whole body soon moving, pushing himself up to look at her. She'd understood his reactions, just as entranced by their proximity, but she didn't feel overwhelmed until she saw the raw need in his gaze, felt it seeping from his pores into hers.

When he lowered his face to her and let her feel how much he wanted her through another breath-taking, toes-curling kiss, she knew there would be no turning back. He was shifting, then, familiar enough with the act to do it almost assuredly. Propping himself up, he pulled her to him in all the right ways, and she had to break their kiss, relinquishing her hold on his hair, her arms instinctively slipping under his to cling to his shoulders.

He breathed out more choked up words as he began to enter her, the sounds whispered upon her lips, her cheek, her neck. Rose couldn't make them out, couldn't have focused long enough to try, even if she wanted to. She was too lost in the sensations, which were not entirely pleasurable at first, as was to be expected; it'd been a while for her, too.

He'd listened to her, though, mindful and slow, tender even. He had done this often enough to remember it took some adjusting, letting her shift under and around him, following her cues as best he could. What they lacked in synchronicity in those first few moments, they made up for it in other ways, his fingers twisted in her hair, his face often pressed to her skin. Her own hands clutched at his back to keep him close, closer, profoundly stirred by how intense this was, feeling the tremors that travelled under his skin. And even through her small discomfort, there always was that heat, that ache, that need, going from him to her, from her to him, over and over and over again.

They found their rhythm, eventually, through trials and errors, as any lovers would, gaining more momentum now that their bodies were locked in a position that seemed to suit them both, judging by the sudden heaviness of their breaths. He became more daring, less cautious in the way he pushed back into her, encouraged by her humming moans and the clench of her insides, the rolling of her hips in sync with his.

As implacable heat built up between them almost exponentially now that their pace was set and discomfort had made place to warmth, Rose half-expected him to resume their telepathic connection. His fingertips remained pressed into fleshier parts of her body, though, ensuring she was as close to him as she could be, her own fingers digging into his skin in search of that same closeness. Pinned as they were, she could feel him in ways she'd never felt any of her past lovers, that skin to skin contact giving her more than mere glimpses, sending sparks through, melding her sensations with his.

She refused to let go of his gaze as his face constricted in a pleasure so intense it resembled pain. She knew he would come long before her, despite the sweltering pressure that was steadily growing inside of her with each sway of their hips. His body was already showing every sign of imminent release, the tremors that shook his frame having turned into quakes, pleading sounds escaping his throat in a staccato of moans. But even through this dazzling ecstasy that seemed to be overtaking him completely, there remained something else in the infinite depth of his eyes, always that same something else.

Is this real? He wondered, pleaded, begged.

And so Rose clung to him, pressing every inch of her skin to him to heighten their bond, making it as clear as it could be without the joining of their minds. I'm here…she soothed him, coaxed him. I'm here…

When that coil snapped and pleasure flooded his entire being, the intensity of it took her by surprise, so attuned to him in that moment that the ripples of his heat broke through her skin and ignited her insides.

She tottered on the edge for a suspended instant, as if something in her was protesting at this improbable development, offended by how ludicrous it would be, to let herself be swept by his bliss. She almost let that voice win, let her reason prevail…until another voice came into play.

Her Doctor's voice, always so real and magical all at once, muffled into the crook of her neck, breathing out her name in his surrender; breathing it out against her skin, as well as deep within, etching it across every atom in her body, in the very centre of her soul.

Rose…

She toppled into the void.

FIN

A/N: Thank you again everybody.

I'm already brainstorming another story...Tentoo/Rose this time, as I'm curious to explore their dynamic (also ANGST! yum yum), so keep an eye out ;-)

As always, any feedback would be lovely! *smooches*