Disclaimer: Doctor Who owns my soul, I own nothing.
Spoilers: None
Summary: Everyone has their fears.
Thanks To: Sinecure for the beta
Author's Notes: Written for Igrace for bidding on me during the September 2008 Support Stacie Author Auction.

Tease

He knew she touched herself. He thought about it all the time. Especially late at night, when he was left alone, fiddling with a TARDIS that didn't need fixing, not nearly as often as he led people to believe.

He'd plop down on the jump-seat and fantasize about all the ways she'd make herself come. Imagined he heard his name escaping her lips in silently whispered ecstasy.

And in his mind, she knew. Knew that he passed her doorway far more than was necessary, listening for a moan of pleasure, a hitch in breathing. Knew that he daydreamed about her naked, beneath him, writhing under his touch.

Knew that he was watching her now, her body bared to the sunlight but for a skimpy two-piece that hardly covered all the important bits.

But she wasn't rubbing her arms sensually, wanting him to see. She wasn't waiting for him to come running to her with a trouser-full of desire. She didn't know, and she wasn't teasing him, no matter how much he might wish that she was.

He was just a dirty old man, with a raging hard-on and inappropriate feelings for his beautiful, young companion.

Disconcert

She was tired of imagining. Tired of taking matters into her own hands late at night, when he thought she'd gone to bed. She didn't sleep nearly as much as he believed. But she couldn't exactly tell him the truth about what she was up to, now could she?

It was frustrating enough, having feelings for him that he'd never return. But getting turned on every time he entered a room, feeling that twinge of desire at the sight of him, at the way he smelt, at the sound of his voice? That was driving her mental. Sent her running to her room at the end of each day, just so she could escape his presence and the tension it brought with it.

When she touched herself, she fantasized that he knew. That he was just outside her door, listening to her moans of pleasure. Pictured him growing harder and harder until he could stand it no longer. Visualized him unzipping his jeans, taking himself in hand and stroking his length in tandem to her own ministrations.

But that, she knew, was just wishful thinking.

Inamorata

Bodies glistening with sweat, lungs gasping for air, they lay, limbs intertwined. An abandoned beach on an alien planet and the inevitable build-up of wants and needs and desires was all it took to change things between them.

Forever.

Uninhibited, their bodies moved as one, over and over again beneath the slowly setting sun. Danced the dance of lovers the universe over until, sated, they collapsed into each other's arms.

Exhausted, Rose closed her eyes against the encroaching night, safe in the certainty that he was there to protect her. As she drifted off to sleep beside him, the Doctor knew, with the knowledge of a nine-hundred-year-old Time Lord, that all the wishing and hoping and other such human traits wasn't the reason they were finally together; it was loving someone enough to take a chance.