Never Tickle a Time Lord (3/3)
Title: Never Tickle a Timelord, Chapter 3
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: R (for excessive nekkedness)
Spoilers: None at all
Beta: Wishes-She-Was-The-Master's-Voodoo-Child
Summary: The Doctor licks a wall. As a result, he and Rose spend the day naked together.
A/N: Written as a gift for firefaery2 at the oh_she_knows Summer Lovin' Ficathon. The request was “Ten nekked except for specs and chucks!”
Never Tickle a Time Lord
Chapter 1--in which our characters are clothed
Chapter 2--in which our characters are most decidedly not
Chapter 3
“We have come to a decision. The Frompians must pay a fine of one hundred sopdinwef, sit through a hemi-iiioseguudn course on the dangers of their actions, and sign an agreement never to commit such acts again. They will then be released. With their clothing,” he added, as if it were an afterthought. The gavel pounded again and the room filled with noise.
Rose blinked. That was it? She looked at the Doctor, prepared to ask a question, and was met with a warning glance from him. Perhaps that wasn’t it? The useless Solicitor turned to them.
“You will follow me to pay your fine and attend the course.”
“Thanks for the help,” Rose muttered sarcastically.
Their solicitor bowed deeply. “You’re quite welcome.”
Hands still clasped, still wearing nothing but their trainers and, in the Doctor’s case, a pair of glasses, they followed the useless creature out of the courtroom. The Doctor squinted as they walked, then reached up with his free hand to remove his glasses. He gave them a disgusted glance, and Rose wondered briefly if he was going to chuck them aside (thus earning them a fine for littering, no doubt) before he once again perched them on top of his head. She shook her head and stifled a giggle. They were led to a room with a small counter; behind it sat an alien who clearly was a bureaucrat. Dozens of planets and thousands-millions!-of light years travelled, and a bureaucrat was a bureaucrat was a bureaucrat. It was remarkable, the things that were universally constant.
They made arrangements to pay the fine-the Doctor had quite rationally pointed out that, without his clothes, he could hardly be expected to have the money on his person-and were escorted into yet another grey room. Rose had to stifle a giggle for the short duration of the class; it was like every horrible science film she had ever had to watch in school, complete with bored narrator and grainy film quality. She’d no idea the dangers of the tongue, and nearly collapsed in laughter when she looked over and found the Doctor absolutely entranced by the cautionary tale.
Their ‘education’ complete, they were presented with two stacks of paperwork to complete. Rose was content this time to let the Doctor read through the documents thoroughly, although without a clean set of glasses it took a maddening amount of time for him to read the fine print. At one point, he held the forms out as far as his arms would let him, and Rose finally took pity on his farsightedness and held the forms for him. Satisfied that he wasn’t signing his clothes-or something far more important-away, he signed in an illegible scrawl; Rose followed suit, writing her name clearly and with care.
They were then ushered to yet another new room; Rose was stunned to see that it wasn’t made of the grey mineral which seemed to be the only building material on the planet. Rather, this room was a deep, warm brown shot through with shades of burgundy. It was unlike anything she had ever seen, and she walked up to one of the walls for a closer look as the door slid closed behind them.
“Don’t…you know…that,” the Doctor said, walking up next to her.
She turned to him with a smile. “’s pretty. And it’s not grey.”
“No, it’s not. Makes it valuable. We must be in the guest quarters.” The Doctor wandered over to a low bench and sat down. He stretched out his legs and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes and crossing his arms. Rose, deciding she was finished looking at the (apparently) rare mineral, turned to admire the view. The Doctor was completely relaxed and at ease wearing just his Chucks; his glasses were peeking out from the disaster his hair had become. Rose found him utterly irresistible and walked over to join the Doctor on the bench. She sat down, and let out a gasp of surprise.
“It’s warm!” The stone, whatever it was, was warm to the touch, as though it had been heated. It wasn’t uncomfortable-at least, not to her-but rather was soothing.
“It is,” the Doctor agreed.
“And it’s…soft, yeah? Feels like…velvet, I think. Warm velvet.”
“It does,” the Doctor said, somewhat sleepily. Rose looked closely at him; was he going to take a nap? Now? Here?
“So…what now?”
“Now we wait, Rose Tyler.” The Doctor’s reply echoed his earlier one in the cell. He remained leaned back, eyes closed.
“Oh. Ok. I’ll just…wait then.” She snuggled against him, and ran her eyes once more around the walls of the room. There was no other furniture beyond the bench on which they were seated; the walls were smooth, their colour inexplicably soothing. She felt her eyes drift shut, the inviting warmth and softness of the bench relaxing her, and the sound of the Doctor’s heartsbeat faintly audible to her as she leaned her head against the hollow of his shoulder.
She must have dozed off; she found herself awoken suddenly as the Doctor stood and pulled her up with him. She blinked muzzily, and realized that the spokesalien was back. Two sentries stood behind him (her? Rose was fairly sure it was a ‘him’ but it was so hard to tell), holding a small box each.
“You have fulfilled the requirements of your punishment. We will return your clothing. You may get clothed.” The two sentries moved forward and presented them, rather formally, with the boxes.
Rose looked down into the one she was presented and saw the brown and blue of the Doctor’s suit. She moved to hand it to the Doctor, but stopped as he gave her a quick glance. “Still a few formalities to follow,” he whispered as he bowed; Rose sketched a quick bow, then stared down at the box again. Surely she wasn’t meant to wear the Doctor’s clothes? They would never fit; even if they did, she’d ruin the cuffs of his trousers stepping all over them.
The aliens respectfully backed out of the room, and the door slid closed. She turned to the Doctor. “Can I have my clothes back now? Please?”
He looked down at the box he held, then back up at Rose. The look he gave her made her bones turn to jelly. “No, Rose Tyler, you may not. Custom dictates that companions dress each other before they leave.”
Rose stared. That was interesting. “So…I’m meant to dress you, and you’re meant to dress me?”
He gave her a slow smile. “Right in one.” The heat radiating from his glance made Rose feel certain that the last thing she wanted was to be clothed with the Doctor at the moment. “Old tradition for off-worlders-well, off-worlders that they like-a ceremonial transition from guest to traveller, and it shows that we’ve risen a bit in their esteem.”
Rose raised an eyebrow. “You can remember this custom, but you couldn’t remember not to-” The Doctor cut her off, raising one finger to her lips to stop her before she uttered such an offensive word. Rose’s face flushed.
“I remember this one,” he said softly. Rose’s mind went blank. He arched an eyebrow playfully and walked over to the bench. He set the box down, then bent over to remove his shoes; Rose found herself staring at the view he afforded, his lovely bum leading to long legs…
Having placed his shoes along the side of the bench, he reached in to the box and pulled out her knickers and bra. He stepped away from the bench and turned back to face Rose. “Come here, Rose,” he said, his voice pitched lower than normal.
She walked over, not entirely certain her legs would support her. Shaking, she set the box of his clothes down, toed her trainers off, and turned to him. He knelt in front of her; with light pressure on her calf, he encouraged her to lift first one leg, then another, so he could slip her knickers on. The whisper of cotton up her legs, as his hands lightly brushed against her, was driving her to distraction. He stood as he finished pulling the knickers up, looking at her with dark eyes. Rose felt her breath hitch. “Now turn around.” He barely whispered the instruction, and Rose felt her temperature spike. He slid her bra on, guiding the straps up her arms, and teasing her by not quite touching her as he ensured the garment fit before hooking the eyes in back. Rose thought she might just pass out. He walked around in front of her, eyes still dark and cheeks flushed. “Your turn.”
Rose blinked, then realized it was her turn to dress him. She caught her breath; time to repay him for the kindness he had just shown her. She bent over and fished around the box before finding his pants. Garment in hand, she turned to the Doctor; she licked her lips reflexively as she moved towards him. He stood still, anticipation radiating off him in an almost tangible manner. She caught his eye before dropping to her knees in front of him; she saw his leg muscles tense as he tried not to react, causing her to bite her lip to keep a giggle from escaping. As he had done with her, she lightly touched first one leg, then the next to indicate he should step into the white cotton. The Doctor had placed his hands on her shoulders as he had balanced, and kept his hands there as she slowly slid the cotton up his legs and into place. They were close enough to kiss, and Rose watched the Doctor’s eyes flicker between her lips and her eyes as they stood there. She gave him a sultry smile before turning back to the box for his vest.
It was a bit trickier to help him on with that, but the challenge was rewarded by her having her arms around him as she helped him slide the soft fabric down his torso. Together, they pulled the hem of the vest down; Rose could feel the increased heartsbeat of the Doctor as she pressed against him; she felt as if she were about to burst into flame. She stepped back, fighting the urge she had to rip his clothes back off of him.
The Doctor took a deep breath and once more walked over to the box that held Rose’s clothing. He selected her jeans, looking at them and then her with a wicked gleam in his eye. Rose forgot to breathe for a moment, and then gasped as he walked over to her and around her, his focus centred on her as though he were working out a particularly tricky problem. “Well, Rose Tyler. How do you suppose we’re meant to get these back on to you?” His softly posed question was deafening in the silent room, and Rose once more felt herself flush. She had no idea if it was a rhetorical question, so she paused before answering.
“You tell me.”
He gave her a naughty grin before leading her over to the bench and seating her on the edge. He once more knelt before her; she reflexively reached out and, after removing his glasses and setting them gently aside, ran her hands through his hair. He looked up at her. “We’re not going to get anywhere if you keep doing that.” Rose let her hands fall from his hair, fingers lightly tracing along his jaw line; she could feel the muscles clench beneath her fingers as she brought her hands forward before returning them to her lap. He gave her a reproachful glance-which was ruined by its underlying heat-before returning his focus to her jeans. He was bundling each leg of the denim in a way similar to that used by Rose to put on tights, and he gently lifted each leg to guide it into the pooled blue fabric before pulling the jeans up to her knees. He looked back up at her. “Right, this might be a bit tricky. I can’t let go of the fabric, you see-bad form in the ritual-but neither can I let you do anything on your own.”
Rose arched a brow. “Part of the ritual as well?”
“Maybe.” She let out a little laugh. “Right, ready?” She nodded; he helped her up by her elbow with one hand, and deftly guided the rough fabric up her legs with the other. They were, once again, standing close enough that their entire bodies were practically touching, and Rose rested her hands on the Doctor’s shoulders. She loved the look of concentration on his face as he wiggled the jeans the rest of the way up to her hips. Her breath caught as he slid his hands across to pull up the zip and button the waist of her jeans, causing his eyes to fly to hers. Rose was desperate to kiss the Doctor, and found her eyes drifting down to his lips. That lower one was always begging for a nibble…surely she could just lean in and…
The Doctor stepped back and waggled a finger in front of her. “Now, now, Rose. Getting dressed is serious business. No distractions.” She pouted, then turned back to grab the Doctor’s trousers. He knew what he was doing to her, and she’d be darned if she wasn’t going to do the same in return. Trousers in hand, she looked back over her shoulder at the Doctor.
“C’mon then, let’s get you into these trousers.” She used her head to indicate he should come over to the bench; when he got there she gently pushed him down into a sitting position, then slowly lowered herself to her knees in front of him. She looked up at him, the tip of her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth. The Doctor’s gaze turned a bit glassy, and he started to breathe shallowly through his mouth. Rose looked down to hide her grin; a bloke was a bloke, regardless of species and no matter his perceived intellectual or physical superiority. She guided his feet into the legs of the trousers, and slowly slid the thin fabric up his calves, over his knees, up to mid-thigh. She looked back up at the Doctor, whose eyes were now closed. She’d noticed his habit of resting the tip of his tongue against his teeth when he was thinking or working out a problem, he was doing it now, and she thought it a very good thing indeed that he hadn’t done that in court when trying to talk their way out of this mess. He appeared to be fighting to keep his composure, and Rose once again grinned. The Doctor must have sensed her reaction; his eyes flew open, and he practically growled, “Don’t tease me, Rose Tyler.”
She swallowed. “Let’s get you standing, shall we?” Rose cringed as she squeaked the instructions out. A flicker of triumph passed over the Doctor’s face. She shifted, and then guided the Doctor to stand as her right hand brought his trousers up. She winced as they caught, the Doctor’s face briefly showing a flash of discomfort; she looked down and used both hands to guide the brown and blue fabric up and over his hips. Her hands were shaking as she reached down to close the zip and fasten the catch.
She wasn’t sure how much longer she could do this.
The Doctor appeared to have the same thought; as soon as she was done, he reached into the box for her top, and wasted absolutely no time in helping her to pull it on. She, in turn, reached into the box containing his clothes and pulled out his brown Henley; he reached his arms out and she practically yanked it up his arms and over his head; one of the buttons caught in his hair, and there was some minor scrambling as they attempted to free his hair and get his shirt on. Next was his blue button-down, and Rose fought to stifle a laugh as the two of them hurried even faster to get him into it and buttoned up. It was like some weird rewind of a frantic rush to get naked for a shag. They both looked down then back up at each other.
“I vote we leave you untucked today.” The Doctor nodded sharply in agreement and Rose reached back into the box for the Doctor’s suit coat. It was the work of seconds to get that onto him, Rose having helped him on with it often enough. She peeked back into the box. “Socks, too?”
“Socks, too.”
She sighed, then reached for his socks. “Have a seat, let’s finish getting you dressed so we can get back to the TARDIS.” Where I can take all of this off you again, she finished mentally.
His eyes flashed; and she found herself wondering if she was just that transparent with her thoughts, or if he was as telepathic as his ship. She’d have to find that out one day; but first she had to finish dressing the Doctor. Kneeling, she tried not to laugh at his socks; she’d somehow failed to notice that the brown cotton had little blue dogs woven into them. Where had he found those? And why did he have them? She slid them onto his feet, then reached over for his well-worn Chucks and helped him put them on. She tied the laces into a double-knot as he always did, then stood. “Right, just the coat to go for you.”
He looked into the box that had held Rose’s clothing and pulled out her socks. “Just the socks for you.” He stood, while she sat in the spot he vacated, then knelt in front of her and unrolled her plain white socks. He took his time before putting them on her feet, running his hands up her ankles and her calves before bringing them lightly back down to her foot. She let out a slight moan, and he looked back up at her with a wicked little grin.
That was not acceptable. Not at all. “Don’t tease me, Doctor,” she said in a low voice.
His grin faded. In a flash, he had her socks and trainers back on her feet. Standing, he pulled her up to him, wrapping his arms around her as he whispered into her ear, “I’m not teasing, Rose Tyler. I never tease. Not about this.” He stepped back and gave her a steady gaze. Rose felt her breath catch once again. “Now. Let’s get the coat and be on our way, hmm?”
Rose stepped back to the bench and reached down into the box for the coat; she shook it out as she turned, and helped the Doctor slide into it. The coat on, he turned to her, leaned towards her, his eyes focused on hers, just a quirk of a smile at the corner of his mouth, closer…
Rose thought she was going to faint, and closed her eyes. Only to feel the Doctor reach around her. She opened her eyes, confused, and saw him stand back up with his glasses in hand.
“Shall we?” He tucked the glasses into a coat pocket, and held his hand out to her.
Excellent. Time to go home. Time to get naked again. Splendid.
A door opened for them magically and they stepped out together, hand-in-hand, instantly greeted by another bureaucrat at another desk. Or possibly the same one. Everything looked the same on this planet. And she was a bit distracted by the fact that the Doctor’s hair was more every which way than usual from the specs having been perched in them strongly resembling the way he looked after he made love to her and her hands had been torn through that hair a few too many times. It was really, really distracting. She had to get him to the TARDIS.
“You will pay your fine,” the bureaucrat intoned.
Rose bit back her groan. The bloody fine. She’d forgotten all about it.
“Right,” agreed the Doctor, patting at his coat and smiling as he felt the reassuring weight of the sonic screwdriver. “I need to get to a cash point. Don’t have the money on me.”
The bureaucrat nodded toward Rose. “She’ll stay here.”
“What makes you so sure I’ll come back for her?” asked the Doctor.
“Charming,” Rose said.
He grinned, unrepentant, then remarked, “Hold on.” He reached into his coat for his specs, then grabbed her shirt and wiped them on it.
“Oi!” Rose tried to twist away from him. “Clean them on your coat!”
“I’ve only got one of these coats; you’ve got loads of shirts. There. Perfect.” He winked at her as he tucked the glasses back into his pocket and headed out the door.
Rose glanced at the bureaucrat who stared at her with unabashed interest. She smiled and gave him a little wave. His expression did not change.
Rose sat on the bench in the boring grey room. It wasn’t heated like the bench in the other room, which was too bad because she’d liked that after spending most of the day cold. Also, it felt like flowing water again, an uncomfortable thing to be sitting on. She frowned at the pomade residue his specs had left behind on her shirt, and shook her head. It was a good thing he was so damn cute, she thought. And it was a good thing that she still wanted him as much as she did. That was, truthfully, a bit astonishing, how breathless he could make her with just a look, how desperate he could make her with just a touch. She had thought, before she and the Doctor had finally gotten together, that the single-minded way she desired him would subside a bit. That hadn’t happened. The only thing that had subsided was her level of frustration.
The Doctor was gone long enough that she had begun planning exactly what she would do to him when she got him in the TARDIS. When he walked back into the room he was treated to a smile of such sheer carnal longing that he stopped short and stared at her.
“Do you have the money?” asked the bureaucrat.
Rose had stood and, holding his gaze, lazily stretched. The Doctor, with a great effort, tore his eyes away from her and looked at the bureaucrat. “Uh, yes, yes. Here you are.” He passed several small red blocks across to the bureaucrat, and the bureaucrat handed him a form.
“Are we ready to go?” purred Rose in his ear.
He jumped, startled, and looked down at her. When had she crept up to him like that? And must she really press against him that way? He signed the form hastily.
“I don’t think you read that, Doctor,” commented Rose, sounding amused.
“To hell with that,” he growled, taking her hand and dragging her out. “We’re all set, right?” he thought to toss over his shoulder, but the bureaucrat just looked at them steadily, which the Doctor took as an affirmative. “Good,” he said, and pulled Rose out of the prison.
It was darker now, not fully night but clearly getting there.
“Free once more,” said Rose, as they stood for a moment on the street.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked.
“The TARDIS, of course,” she replied, surprised.
“It’s just that I got us enough money to go to dinner. Someplace nice. The restaurants aren’t bad here-“
“I’m not going to a restaurant with you on this planet. I cannot think of a better set-up for disaster. No, back to the TARDIS. Come on.” She tugged to get him moving, and sent him a quizzical glance. “You really thought I’d want to go out?” She thought she was being pretty obvious about what she wanted to do.
“No, I’m just…You’ve had a tough day. Not so much fun. Worrying and…everything. I thought it might be nice. You might enjoy it.”
That was sweet. That was the sort of stuff that made up for getting them locked up all day in the first place. “Next planet,” she said. “Or moon or asteroid or whatever. Why Fromp?”
“Hmm?”
“Why’d you say we were from Fromp?”
“Oh. They don’t really care for Frompians here. Not violently, just they think they’re rather odd. I thought it was a perfect cover for us because I didn’t want to tell, you know, the truth.”
“Your speech in there? About how I’m the most obedient little companion ever?”
He sighed heavily. “Wishful thinking.”
She laughed and turned to walk backward in front of him, grinning at him and batting her eyelashes in a playfully exaggerated manner. “You know how I promised you could do anything you wanted with your tongue once we got back to the TARDIS?”
He grinned back. “Do you have requests?”
“Well, I’m willing to listen to your suggestions.”
“Anything I want with my tongue,” he mused, digging his key out of his pocket as they came up to the TARDIS. “Hmm. You know how the bi-time chronographer meter has been clicking?”
She stared at him. “What?”
He finally pulled his key out. “I may give that a lick, figure out what’s wrong with it-” He fitted his key in the lock, not quite succeeding in hiding his smile.
She smiled as well, stood on tiptoe, and blew into his ear. The Doctor’s hand slipped, scraping the key over the door.
“What do you think,” she whispered, “they would do if I licked you right now?”
The Doctor dropped his key altogether. “Rose,” he said. “Let me get us in the TARDIS-” He ducked down to snatch the key up, and Rose leaned over and swirled her tongue around his ear before he had the opportunity to straighten entirely.
“If they shoot me unconscious again, I am blaming you, Rose Tyler,” he bit out, trying and failing to get the key in the lock, which, admittedly, was mostly difficult because his eyelids had fluttered closed of their own accord.
She chuckled and closed her teeth around his earlobe.
“I give up.” He thrust the key into her hands suddenly. “Open the door, would you?” he said, and fastened his hands onto her waist and bent down to kiss her neck.
Rose, being focused on the prize at the end of it all, managed to get the key into the lock and to turn it successfully.
“Good job,” he mumbled as they practically tumbled in together.
“That’s me,” she said, around his lips. “Rookie traveller.”
“I am going to do,” he vowed, breathlessly, “the most astonishing things to you with my tongue.” He was trying to make progress toward the console without taking his hands or his mouth off of her. He was not doing very well.
“But you don’t have a permit,” she half-giggled, as she rammed a bit unpleasantly up against the controls.
“Which is why we’re getting off this ridiculous planet.” He paused long enough to lean over her and spin a few dials and press a few buttons.
“And we signed a contract agreeing never to do unspeakable things to each other with our tongues.”
“Rose-” He flipped a lever. “The unspeakable things we do to each other with our tongues make my life worth living.”
“But today we learned all about just how dangerous the tongue is,” she reminded him, solemnly.
He paused and regarded her. “They are savages on that planet,” he said, finally. “Really, truly savages. They don’t know what they’re talking about. It was fascinating how wrong they are about the tongue and its-“
“Shut up and take my shirt off me.”
“I just put this shirt on you,” he reminded her.
“Take it off me,” she said again, pushing his coat off him. It dropped heavily to the floor at his feet.
“If you insist,” he said, pulling the shirt up and over her head and throwing it over his shoulder.
“Also,” she began, and then pulled his head down to kiss him.
He grunted to indicate he was still listening. Well, listening a little bit. Listening and taking off her jeans. Because he was talented like that.
“Not in the control room,” she gasped, around his kisses. “You know I always end up with a lever or something sticking into my back, and then I-“
“One of us is talking too much,” he muttered. “And it’s not me.” But he tried, obligingly, to take a few steps toward a hallway that the TARDIS would surely allow to lead immediately to his bedroom. Instead, inconveniently, his feet got tangled in his coat and he half-fell with her onto the captain’s chair in a tangle of limbs and half-removed clothing. He swore, trying to extract his feet from his coat, which he couldn’t manage because Rose was unbuttoning his shirt and attempting to push it and his suit jacket off him at the same time. He finally kicked his trainers off completely before shrugging out of those next two layers of clothing.
“The thing about making you dress each other...” he said.
“Too many bloody layers,” Rose grumbled to herself, pulling his Henley over his head.
“...is how much it really does make you want to take everything off again. It’s the only brilliant thing about that place.”
He usually babbled this way, and Rose seldom paid attention to him, but she paused suddenly, her hands at his fly. She looked up at him.
“You’ve stopped,” he pointed out, glancing down and then back up at her, eyebrows lifted.
“You knew about that,” she said, slowly.
“Knew about what?” There was a flash of something in those dark eyes. Maybe he looked a bit dazed with lust, but there was a flash of something else there, too.
Rose watched him, piecing it together. “You knew that we had to dress each other. You knew all about that. You knew what they think about Fromp-you knew we’d have to spend the day naked but for our shoes, you knew we wouldn’t be imprisoned too long, you knew what the mineral was, and you knew-“ Here she suddenly poked him violently in the chest. “That public display of tongue was not permitted!”
The Doctor looked at her for a moment, clearly weighing his options. “Wellllll,” he began. “Why don’t we discuss this after I do the things I’ve promised to do to you with my tongue, hmm?” He reached to unclasp her bra.
She stood up, hitching her undone jeans and holding them perched over her hips, and scurried away from him. “You did it on purpose!” she accused. “Because you were bored!”
“Roooooose,” he whined. “Let’s go to the bedroom and finish undressing. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
“You…!” she exclaimed. “You…!” She stalked over to him, finger raised threateningly. He pressed against the back of the chair, watching her warily. And then she grinned suddenly and launched her fingers at his midsection in a furious tickle attack that left him kicking and gasping helplessly until he managed to grab her hands away.
“What did I tell you about that?” he demanded.
“Never tickle a Time Lord,” she said, eyes dancing with laughter. “Unless he’s just made you sit around naked all day.”
“I didn’t make you lick the wall, too, you know.” His eyes turned suddenly serious. He let go of her hands and cupped her face. “And I had no idea that they would shoot me. I really didn’t. I wouldn’t have worried you like that. Not on purpose. You know that, right?”
She smiled at him. “Come on. You do things with your tongue and I just might do things with mine.”
He grinned. “Well, that’s excellent.” He stood up, then paused. “Things to me, right? You’re doing things with your tongue to me?”
“No, I’m licking the bi-time chronographer meter.”
“Cheeky,” he said, and then startled her by hoisting her over his shoulder and carrying her, laughing, down the hallway.
Which conveniently led straight to the bedroom.
Which meant that it was only a short time later when Rose told the Doctor that he had the most talented tongue in all of space and time. A remark he stored away to remind her of the next time he licked something and landed them in trouble
Fin
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: R (for excessive nekkedness)
Spoilers: None at all
Beta: Wishes-She-Was-The-Master's-Voodoo-Child
Summary: The Doctor licks a wall. As a result, he and Rose spend the day naked together.
A/N: Written as a gift for firefaery2 at the oh_she_knows Summer Lovin' Ficathon. The request was “Ten nekked except for specs and chucks!”
Never Tickle a Time Lord
Chapter 1--in which our characters are clothed
Chapter 2--in which our characters are most decidedly not
Chapter 3
“We have come to a decision. The Frompians must pay a fine of one hundred sopdinwef, sit through a hemi-iiioseguudn course on the dangers of their actions, and sign an agreement never to commit such acts again. They will then be released. With their clothing,” he added, as if it were an afterthought. The gavel pounded again and the room filled with noise.
Rose blinked. That was it? She looked at the Doctor, prepared to ask a question, and was met with a warning glance from him. Perhaps that wasn’t it? The useless Solicitor turned to them.
“You will follow me to pay your fine and attend the course.”
“Thanks for the help,” Rose muttered sarcastically.
Their solicitor bowed deeply. “You’re quite welcome.”
Hands still clasped, still wearing nothing but their trainers and, in the Doctor’s case, a pair of glasses, they followed the useless creature out of the courtroom. The Doctor squinted as they walked, then reached up with his free hand to remove his glasses. He gave them a disgusted glance, and Rose wondered briefly if he was going to chuck them aside (thus earning them a fine for littering, no doubt) before he once again perched them on top of his head. She shook her head and stifled a giggle. They were led to a room with a small counter; behind it sat an alien who clearly was a bureaucrat. Dozens of planets and thousands-millions!-of light years travelled, and a bureaucrat was a bureaucrat was a bureaucrat. It was remarkable, the things that were universally constant.
They made arrangements to pay the fine-the Doctor had quite rationally pointed out that, without his clothes, he could hardly be expected to have the money on his person-and were escorted into yet another grey room. Rose had to stifle a giggle for the short duration of the class; it was like every horrible science film she had ever had to watch in school, complete with bored narrator and grainy film quality. She’d no idea the dangers of the tongue, and nearly collapsed in laughter when she looked over and found the Doctor absolutely entranced by the cautionary tale.
Their ‘education’ complete, they were presented with two stacks of paperwork to complete. Rose was content this time to let the Doctor read through the documents thoroughly, although without a clean set of glasses it took a maddening amount of time for him to read the fine print. At one point, he held the forms out as far as his arms would let him, and Rose finally took pity on his farsightedness and held the forms for him. Satisfied that he wasn’t signing his clothes-or something far more important-away, he signed in an illegible scrawl; Rose followed suit, writing her name clearly and with care.
They were then ushered to yet another new room; Rose was stunned to see that it wasn’t made of the grey mineral which seemed to be the only building material on the planet. Rather, this room was a deep, warm brown shot through with shades of burgundy. It was unlike anything she had ever seen, and she walked up to one of the walls for a closer look as the door slid closed behind them.
“Don’t…you know…that,” the Doctor said, walking up next to her.
She turned to him with a smile. “’s pretty. And it’s not grey.”
“No, it’s not. Makes it valuable. We must be in the guest quarters.” The Doctor wandered over to a low bench and sat down. He stretched out his legs and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes and crossing his arms. Rose, deciding she was finished looking at the (apparently) rare mineral, turned to admire the view. The Doctor was completely relaxed and at ease wearing just his Chucks; his glasses were peeking out from the disaster his hair had become. Rose found him utterly irresistible and walked over to join the Doctor on the bench. She sat down, and let out a gasp of surprise.
“It’s warm!” The stone, whatever it was, was warm to the touch, as though it had been heated. It wasn’t uncomfortable-at least, not to her-but rather was soothing.
“It is,” the Doctor agreed.
“And it’s…soft, yeah? Feels like…velvet, I think. Warm velvet.”
“It does,” the Doctor said, somewhat sleepily. Rose looked closely at him; was he going to take a nap? Now? Here?
“So…what now?”
“Now we wait, Rose Tyler.” The Doctor’s reply echoed his earlier one in the cell. He remained leaned back, eyes closed.
“Oh. Ok. I’ll just…wait then.” She snuggled against him, and ran her eyes once more around the walls of the room. There was no other furniture beyond the bench on which they were seated; the walls were smooth, their colour inexplicably soothing. She felt her eyes drift shut, the inviting warmth and softness of the bench relaxing her, and the sound of the Doctor’s heartsbeat faintly audible to her as she leaned her head against the hollow of his shoulder.
She must have dozed off; she found herself awoken suddenly as the Doctor stood and pulled her up with him. She blinked muzzily, and realized that the spokesalien was back. Two sentries stood behind him (her? Rose was fairly sure it was a ‘him’ but it was so hard to tell), holding a small box each.
“You have fulfilled the requirements of your punishment. We will return your clothing. You may get clothed.” The two sentries moved forward and presented them, rather formally, with the boxes.
Rose looked down into the one she was presented and saw the brown and blue of the Doctor’s suit. She moved to hand it to the Doctor, but stopped as he gave her a quick glance. “Still a few formalities to follow,” he whispered as he bowed; Rose sketched a quick bow, then stared down at the box again. Surely she wasn’t meant to wear the Doctor’s clothes? They would never fit; even if they did, she’d ruin the cuffs of his trousers stepping all over them.
The aliens respectfully backed out of the room, and the door slid closed. She turned to the Doctor. “Can I have my clothes back now? Please?”
He looked down at the box he held, then back up at Rose. The look he gave her made her bones turn to jelly. “No, Rose Tyler, you may not. Custom dictates that companions dress each other before they leave.”
Rose stared. That was interesting. “So…I’m meant to dress you, and you’re meant to dress me?”
He gave her a slow smile. “Right in one.” The heat radiating from his glance made Rose feel certain that the last thing she wanted was to be clothed with the Doctor at the moment. “Old tradition for off-worlders-well, off-worlders that they like-a ceremonial transition from guest to traveller, and it shows that we’ve risen a bit in their esteem.”
Rose raised an eyebrow. “You can remember this custom, but you couldn’t remember not to-” The Doctor cut her off, raising one finger to her lips to stop her before she uttered such an offensive word. Rose’s face flushed.
“I remember this one,” he said softly. Rose’s mind went blank. He arched an eyebrow playfully and walked over to the bench. He set the box down, then bent over to remove his shoes; Rose found herself staring at the view he afforded, his lovely bum leading to long legs…
Having placed his shoes along the side of the bench, he reached in to the box and pulled out her knickers and bra. He stepped away from the bench and turned back to face Rose. “Come here, Rose,” he said, his voice pitched lower than normal.
She walked over, not entirely certain her legs would support her. Shaking, she set the box of his clothes down, toed her trainers off, and turned to him. He knelt in front of her; with light pressure on her calf, he encouraged her to lift first one leg, then another, so he could slip her knickers on. The whisper of cotton up her legs, as his hands lightly brushed against her, was driving her to distraction. He stood as he finished pulling the knickers up, looking at her with dark eyes. Rose felt her breath hitch. “Now turn around.” He barely whispered the instruction, and Rose felt her temperature spike. He slid her bra on, guiding the straps up her arms, and teasing her by not quite touching her as he ensured the garment fit before hooking the eyes in back. Rose thought she might just pass out. He walked around in front of her, eyes still dark and cheeks flushed. “Your turn.”
Rose blinked, then realized it was her turn to dress him. She caught her breath; time to repay him for the kindness he had just shown her. She bent over and fished around the box before finding his pants. Garment in hand, she turned to the Doctor; she licked her lips reflexively as she moved towards him. He stood still, anticipation radiating off him in an almost tangible manner. She caught his eye before dropping to her knees in front of him; she saw his leg muscles tense as he tried not to react, causing her to bite her lip to keep a giggle from escaping. As he had done with her, she lightly touched first one leg, then the next to indicate he should step into the white cotton. The Doctor had placed his hands on her shoulders as he had balanced, and kept his hands there as she slowly slid the cotton up his legs and into place. They were close enough to kiss, and Rose watched the Doctor’s eyes flicker between her lips and her eyes as they stood there. She gave him a sultry smile before turning back to the box for his vest.
It was a bit trickier to help him on with that, but the challenge was rewarded by her having her arms around him as she helped him slide the soft fabric down his torso. Together, they pulled the hem of the vest down; Rose could feel the increased heartsbeat of the Doctor as she pressed against him; she felt as if she were about to burst into flame. She stepped back, fighting the urge she had to rip his clothes back off of him.
The Doctor took a deep breath and once more walked over to the box that held Rose’s clothing. He selected her jeans, looking at them and then her with a wicked gleam in his eye. Rose forgot to breathe for a moment, and then gasped as he walked over to her and around her, his focus centred on her as though he were working out a particularly tricky problem. “Well, Rose Tyler. How do you suppose we’re meant to get these back on to you?” His softly posed question was deafening in the silent room, and Rose once more felt herself flush. She had no idea if it was a rhetorical question, so she paused before answering.
“You tell me.”
He gave her a naughty grin before leading her over to the bench and seating her on the edge. He once more knelt before her; she reflexively reached out and, after removing his glasses and setting them gently aside, ran her hands through his hair. He looked up at her. “We’re not going to get anywhere if you keep doing that.” Rose let her hands fall from his hair, fingers lightly tracing along his jaw line; she could feel the muscles clench beneath her fingers as she brought her hands forward before returning them to her lap. He gave her a reproachful glance-which was ruined by its underlying heat-before returning his focus to her jeans. He was bundling each leg of the denim in a way similar to that used by Rose to put on tights, and he gently lifted each leg to guide it into the pooled blue fabric before pulling the jeans up to her knees. He looked back up at her. “Right, this might be a bit tricky. I can’t let go of the fabric, you see-bad form in the ritual-but neither can I let you do anything on your own.”
Rose arched a brow. “Part of the ritual as well?”
“Maybe.” She let out a little laugh. “Right, ready?” She nodded; he helped her up by her elbow with one hand, and deftly guided the rough fabric up her legs with the other. They were, once again, standing close enough that their entire bodies were practically touching, and Rose rested her hands on the Doctor’s shoulders. She loved the look of concentration on his face as he wiggled the jeans the rest of the way up to her hips. Her breath caught as he slid his hands across to pull up the zip and button the waist of her jeans, causing his eyes to fly to hers. Rose was desperate to kiss the Doctor, and found her eyes drifting down to his lips. That lower one was always begging for a nibble…surely she could just lean in and…
The Doctor stepped back and waggled a finger in front of her. “Now, now, Rose. Getting dressed is serious business. No distractions.” She pouted, then turned back to grab the Doctor’s trousers. He knew what he was doing to her, and she’d be darned if she wasn’t going to do the same in return. Trousers in hand, she looked back over her shoulder at the Doctor.
“C’mon then, let’s get you into these trousers.” She used her head to indicate he should come over to the bench; when he got there she gently pushed him down into a sitting position, then slowly lowered herself to her knees in front of him. She looked up at him, the tip of her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth. The Doctor’s gaze turned a bit glassy, and he started to breathe shallowly through his mouth. Rose looked down to hide her grin; a bloke was a bloke, regardless of species and no matter his perceived intellectual or physical superiority. She guided his feet into the legs of the trousers, and slowly slid the thin fabric up his calves, over his knees, up to mid-thigh. She looked back up at the Doctor, whose eyes were now closed. She’d noticed his habit of resting the tip of his tongue against his teeth when he was thinking or working out a problem, he was doing it now, and she thought it a very good thing indeed that he hadn’t done that in court when trying to talk their way out of this mess. He appeared to be fighting to keep his composure, and Rose once again grinned. The Doctor must have sensed her reaction; his eyes flew open, and he practically growled, “Don’t tease me, Rose Tyler.”
She swallowed. “Let’s get you standing, shall we?” Rose cringed as she squeaked the instructions out. A flicker of triumph passed over the Doctor’s face. She shifted, and then guided the Doctor to stand as her right hand brought his trousers up. She winced as they caught, the Doctor’s face briefly showing a flash of discomfort; she looked down and used both hands to guide the brown and blue fabric up and over his hips. Her hands were shaking as she reached down to close the zip and fasten the catch.
She wasn’t sure how much longer she could do this.
The Doctor appeared to have the same thought; as soon as she was done, he reached into the box for her top, and wasted absolutely no time in helping her to pull it on. She, in turn, reached into the box containing his clothes and pulled out his brown Henley; he reached his arms out and she practically yanked it up his arms and over his head; one of the buttons caught in his hair, and there was some minor scrambling as they attempted to free his hair and get his shirt on. Next was his blue button-down, and Rose fought to stifle a laugh as the two of them hurried even faster to get him into it and buttoned up. It was like some weird rewind of a frantic rush to get naked for a shag. They both looked down then back up at each other.
“I vote we leave you untucked today.” The Doctor nodded sharply in agreement and Rose reached back into the box for the Doctor’s suit coat. It was the work of seconds to get that onto him, Rose having helped him on with it often enough. She peeked back into the box. “Socks, too?”
“Socks, too.”
She sighed, then reached for his socks. “Have a seat, let’s finish getting you dressed so we can get back to the TARDIS.” Where I can take all of this off you again, she finished mentally.
His eyes flashed; and she found herself wondering if she was just that transparent with her thoughts, or if he was as telepathic as his ship. She’d have to find that out one day; but first she had to finish dressing the Doctor. Kneeling, she tried not to laugh at his socks; she’d somehow failed to notice that the brown cotton had little blue dogs woven into them. Where had he found those? And why did he have them? She slid them onto his feet, then reached over for his well-worn Chucks and helped him put them on. She tied the laces into a double-knot as he always did, then stood. “Right, just the coat to go for you.”
He looked into the box that had held Rose’s clothing and pulled out her socks. “Just the socks for you.” He stood, while she sat in the spot he vacated, then knelt in front of her and unrolled her plain white socks. He took his time before putting them on her feet, running his hands up her ankles and her calves before bringing them lightly back down to her foot. She let out a slight moan, and he looked back up at her with a wicked little grin.
That was not acceptable. Not at all. “Don’t tease me, Doctor,” she said in a low voice.
His grin faded. In a flash, he had her socks and trainers back on her feet. Standing, he pulled her up to him, wrapping his arms around her as he whispered into her ear, “I’m not teasing, Rose Tyler. I never tease. Not about this.” He stepped back and gave her a steady gaze. Rose felt her breath catch once again. “Now. Let’s get the coat and be on our way, hmm?”
Rose stepped back to the bench and reached down into the box for the coat; she shook it out as she turned, and helped the Doctor slide into it. The coat on, he turned to her, leaned towards her, his eyes focused on hers, just a quirk of a smile at the corner of his mouth, closer…
Rose thought she was going to faint, and closed her eyes. Only to feel the Doctor reach around her. She opened her eyes, confused, and saw him stand back up with his glasses in hand.
“Shall we?” He tucked the glasses into a coat pocket, and held his hand out to her.
Excellent. Time to go home. Time to get naked again. Splendid.
A door opened for them magically and they stepped out together, hand-in-hand, instantly greeted by another bureaucrat at another desk. Or possibly the same one. Everything looked the same on this planet. And she was a bit distracted by the fact that the Doctor’s hair was more every which way than usual from the specs having been perched in them strongly resembling the way he looked after he made love to her and her hands had been torn through that hair a few too many times. It was really, really distracting. She had to get him to the TARDIS.
“You will pay your fine,” the bureaucrat intoned.
Rose bit back her groan. The bloody fine. She’d forgotten all about it.
“Right,” agreed the Doctor, patting at his coat and smiling as he felt the reassuring weight of the sonic screwdriver. “I need to get to a cash point. Don’t have the money on me.”
The bureaucrat nodded toward Rose. “She’ll stay here.”
“What makes you so sure I’ll come back for her?” asked the Doctor.
“Charming,” Rose said.
He grinned, unrepentant, then remarked, “Hold on.” He reached into his coat for his specs, then grabbed her shirt and wiped them on it.
“Oi!” Rose tried to twist away from him. “Clean them on your coat!”
“I’ve only got one of these coats; you’ve got loads of shirts. There. Perfect.” He winked at her as he tucked the glasses back into his pocket and headed out the door.
Rose glanced at the bureaucrat who stared at her with unabashed interest. She smiled and gave him a little wave. His expression did not change.
Rose sat on the bench in the boring grey room. It wasn’t heated like the bench in the other room, which was too bad because she’d liked that after spending most of the day cold. Also, it felt like flowing water again, an uncomfortable thing to be sitting on. She frowned at the pomade residue his specs had left behind on her shirt, and shook her head. It was a good thing he was so damn cute, she thought. And it was a good thing that she still wanted him as much as she did. That was, truthfully, a bit astonishing, how breathless he could make her with just a look, how desperate he could make her with just a touch. She had thought, before she and the Doctor had finally gotten together, that the single-minded way she desired him would subside a bit. That hadn’t happened. The only thing that had subsided was her level of frustration.
The Doctor was gone long enough that she had begun planning exactly what she would do to him when she got him in the TARDIS. When he walked back into the room he was treated to a smile of such sheer carnal longing that he stopped short and stared at her.
“Do you have the money?” asked the bureaucrat.
Rose had stood and, holding his gaze, lazily stretched. The Doctor, with a great effort, tore his eyes away from her and looked at the bureaucrat. “Uh, yes, yes. Here you are.” He passed several small red blocks across to the bureaucrat, and the bureaucrat handed him a form.
“Are we ready to go?” purred Rose in his ear.
He jumped, startled, and looked down at her. When had she crept up to him like that? And must she really press against him that way? He signed the form hastily.
“I don’t think you read that, Doctor,” commented Rose, sounding amused.
“To hell with that,” he growled, taking her hand and dragging her out. “We’re all set, right?” he thought to toss over his shoulder, but the bureaucrat just looked at them steadily, which the Doctor took as an affirmative. “Good,” he said, and pulled Rose out of the prison.
It was darker now, not fully night but clearly getting there.
“Free once more,” said Rose, as they stood for a moment on the street.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked.
“The TARDIS, of course,” she replied, surprised.
“It’s just that I got us enough money to go to dinner. Someplace nice. The restaurants aren’t bad here-“
“I’m not going to a restaurant with you on this planet. I cannot think of a better set-up for disaster. No, back to the TARDIS. Come on.” She tugged to get him moving, and sent him a quizzical glance. “You really thought I’d want to go out?” She thought she was being pretty obvious about what she wanted to do.
“No, I’m just…You’ve had a tough day. Not so much fun. Worrying and…everything. I thought it might be nice. You might enjoy it.”
That was sweet. That was the sort of stuff that made up for getting them locked up all day in the first place. “Next planet,” she said. “Or moon or asteroid or whatever. Why Fromp?”
“Hmm?”
“Why’d you say we were from Fromp?”
“Oh. They don’t really care for Frompians here. Not violently, just they think they’re rather odd. I thought it was a perfect cover for us because I didn’t want to tell, you know, the truth.”
“Your speech in there? About how I’m the most obedient little companion ever?”
He sighed heavily. “Wishful thinking.”
She laughed and turned to walk backward in front of him, grinning at him and batting her eyelashes in a playfully exaggerated manner. “You know how I promised you could do anything you wanted with your tongue once we got back to the TARDIS?”
He grinned back. “Do you have requests?”
“Well, I’m willing to listen to your suggestions.”
“Anything I want with my tongue,” he mused, digging his key out of his pocket as they came up to the TARDIS. “Hmm. You know how the bi-time chronographer meter has been clicking?”
She stared at him. “What?”
He finally pulled his key out. “I may give that a lick, figure out what’s wrong with it-” He fitted his key in the lock, not quite succeeding in hiding his smile.
She smiled as well, stood on tiptoe, and blew into his ear. The Doctor’s hand slipped, scraping the key over the door.
“What do you think,” she whispered, “they would do if I licked you right now?”
The Doctor dropped his key altogether. “Rose,” he said. “Let me get us in the TARDIS-” He ducked down to snatch the key up, and Rose leaned over and swirled her tongue around his ear before he had the opportunity to straighten entirely.
“If they shoot me unconscious again, I am blaming you, Rose Tyler,” he bit out, trying and failing to get the key in the lock, which, admittedly, was mostly difficult because his eyelids had fluttered closed of their own accord.
She chuckled and closed her teeth around his earlobe.
“I give up.” He thrust the key into her hands suddenly. “Open the door, would you?” he said, and fastened his hands onto her waist and bent down to kiss her neck.
Rose, being focused on the prize at the end of it all, managed to get the key into the lock and to turn it successfully.
“Good job,” he mumbled as they practically tumbled in together.
“That’s me,” she said, around his lips. “Rookie traveller.”
“I am going to do,” he vowed, breathlessly, “the most astonishing things to you with my tongue.” He was trying to make progress toward the console without taking his hands or his mouth off of her. He was not doing very well.
“But you don’t have a permit,” she half-giggled, as she rammed a bit unpleasantly up against the controls.
“Which is why we’re getting off this ridiculous planet.” He paused long enough to lean over her and spin a few dials and press a few buttons.
“And we signed a contract agreeing never to do unspeakable things to each other with our tongues.”
“Rose-” He flipped a lever. “The unspeakable things we do to each other with our tongues make my life worth living.”
“But today we learned all about just how dangerous the tongue is,” she reminded him, solemnly.
He paused and regarded her. “They are savages on that planet,” he said, finally. “Really, truly savages. They don’t know what they’re talking about. It was fascinating how wrong they are about the tongue and its-“
“Shut up and take my shirt off me.”
“I just put this shirt on you,” he reminded her.
“Take it off me,” she said again, pushing his coat off him. It dropped heavily to the floor at his feet.
“If you insist,” he said, pulling the shirt up and over her head and throwing it over his shoulder.
“Also,” she began, and then pulled his head down to kiss him.
He grunted to indicate he was still listening. Well, listening a little bit. Listening and taking off her jeans. Because he was talented like that.
“Not in the control room,” she gasped, around his kisses. “You know I always end up with a lever or something sticking into my back, and then I-“
“One of us is talking too much,” he muttered. “And it’s not me.” But he tried, obligingly, to take a few steps toward a hallway that the TARDIS would surely allow to lead immediately to his bedroom. Instead, inconveniently, his feet got tangled in his coat and he half-fell with her onto the captain’s chair in a tangle of limbs and half-removed clothing. He swore, trying to extract his feet from his coat, which he couldn’t manage because Rose was unbuttoning his shirt and attempting to push it and his suit jacket off him at the same time. He finally kicked his trainers off completely before shrugging out of those next two layers of clothing.
“The thing about making you dress each other...” he said.
“Too many bloody layers,” Rose grumbled to herself, pulling his Henley over his head.
“...is how much it really does make you want to take everything off again. It’s the only brilliant thing about that place.”
He usually babbled this way, and Rose seldom paid attention to him, but she paused suddenly, her hands at his fly. She looked up at him.
“You’ve stopped,” he pointed out, glancing down and then back up at her, eyebrows lifted.
“You knew about that,” she said, slowly.
“Knew about what?” There was a flash of something in those dark eyes. Maybe he looked a bit dazed with lust, but there was a flash of something else there, too.
Rose watched him, piecing it together. “You knew that we had to dress each other. You knew all about that. You knew what they think about Fromp-you knew we’d have to spend the day naked but for our shoes, you knew we wouldn’t be imprisoned too long, you knew what the mineral was, and you knew-“ Here she suddenly poked him violently in the chest. “That public display of tongue was not permitted!”
The Doctor looked at her for a moment, clearly weighing his options. “Wellllll,” he began. “Why don’t we discuss this after I do the things I’ve promised to do to you with my tongue, hmm?” He reached to unclasp her bra.
She stood up, hitching her undone jeans and holding them perched over her hips, and scurried away from him. “You did it on purpose!” she accused. “Because you were bored!”
“Roooooose,” he whined. “Let’s go to the bedroom and finish undressing. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
“You…!” she exclaimed. “You…!” She stalked over to him, finger raised threateningly. He pressed against the back of the chair, watching her warily. And then she grinned suddenly and launched her fingers at his midsection in a furious tickle attack that left him kicking and gasping helplessly until he managed to grab her hands away.
“What did I tell you about that?” he demanded.
“Never tickle a Time Lord,” she said, eyes dancing with laughter. “Unless he’s just made you sit around naked all day.”
“I didn’t make you lick the wall, too, you know.” His eyes turned suddenly serious. He let go of her hands and cupped her face. “And I had no idea that they would shoot me. I really didn’t. I wouldn’t have worried you like that. Not on purpose. You know that, right?”
She smiled at him. “Come on. You do things with your tongue and I just might do things with mine.”
He grinned. “Well, that’s excellent.” He stood up, then paused. “Things to me, right? You’re doing things with your tongue to me?”
“No, I’m licking the bi-time chronographer meter.”
“Cheeky,” he said, and then startled her by hoisting her over his shoulder and carrying her, laughing, down the hallway.
Which conveniently led straight to the bedroom.
Which meant that it was only a short time later when Rose told the Doctor that he had the most talented tongue in all of space and time. A remark he stored away to remind her of the next time he licked something and landed them in trouble
Fin