Fic Commentary: Touching and Time

[the_tenzo]

This is the second installment of the Fic Commentary Meme, where you request 'em and I annotate 'em ( original post here). This one was requested by unfolded73. The original text of this story can be found here.

And just a reminder, this is an Adult story.



Alrighty kids. So, this here was my first ever go at writing sex. Call it smut, erotica, one-handed reading, whatever, I have never ever in my life attempted to do that. Way too inhibited, way too much of a prude. I only just started writing fic at all in July (that pesky week between The Stolen Earth and Journey's End), and at the time when I was beginning to dip my toe in to fic I was all, "I will never write smut, no way, no how." Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Anyway, enough with the meta of the meta.

This is the epilogue to my story Touching Time (yeah, I regret the title). When I was writing the main story, I was all about the UST. But then I started to think about resolving it some how but have always felt that I'd have to go AU to do that because I never felt that the Doctor and Rose had a physical relationship in Series 2. It was my very intelligent beta Jaradel who reminded me that, duh, Alt!Ten is there for all of my UST-resolution needs, any time I want him. (mmmmm I do want him!) And thus, this was born.

Part 1: What is.

All those times she had said it.

I love you, you're my best friend.  I love you, but you drive me mad sometimes. I love you, thanks for the rescue. I love traveling with you, I love your magical ship, I love your great hair.

I love you, now fix everything and don't leave me here.

This bit was a result of a conversation I had with jaradel, when we were discussing the fact that I have Rose saying "I love you" to the Doctor in the main story and how she'd always felt that Bad Wolf Bay was the first time Rose herself had actually said this. I replied that I always read that line as having a silent "But" at the beginning, that she's not necissarily saying it for the first time but she is trying to basically say "But I love you, so you can make this not happen, right?"

All those times, and he'd never said it back--she'd never let him. The Universe needed him and she needed to be by his side. Their negotiations were not yet complete when she found herself alone on a beach in Norway. It wasn't supposed to be like that. There was supposed to be a detente. A compromise. Feeling out each other's borderlands. There was supposed to be Time.

It's a funny old world when there's actually competition between "Does it really need saying?" and "I love you." When a smile that's just slightly more gormless, a twinkle that's in the wrong eye, a voice that's just a half-step higher, a suit that's the wrong color, when these things actually matter to a girl who's become a woman and has held herself close and apart for years, waiting.

It's a funny old world, and it won't end if she says yes, if she lets go, renders to the Universe what is the Universe's and to herself what is hers. It won't end if she takes this strange man home, draws a final line in the sand and dares him to cross it.

I'm sensitive to those who feel that Alt!Ten is a different man from Ten and thus don't like to see Rose jump in to bed with him right off the bat. Of course, Rose is going to jump in to bed with him right off the bat, so I had to acknowledge that she understands what's going on here and she's making a choice to let Ten go and accept Alt!Ten. And I will also say here that I was really upset at the number of people who accused Rose of being, basically, a slut for making her choice. Misogyny, in my Who fandom? It's more likely than you'd think!

"Do you have any can'ts, or shouldn'ts or never-evers for me now?" she asks as soon as they arrive back at her flat after a long journey full of family-friendly small talk. He looks at her quizzically, and for a few moments she thinks she has the wrong man, he doesn't remember, he is not who he says he is.

Can't, shouldn't and never ever plays a big role in the main story and in my personal canon a big part in their relationship just in general. This whole series is sort of an exploration of what keeps two people who so clearly want to be together from actually getting together.

"I thought I already answered that," he says finally.

They stand by the door and it is still ajar for one final moment before it is he who reaches out and pushes it shut, leans against it, closes his eyes, places hands in pockets. She removes her jacket and hangs it on a coat rack, performs the million daily chores of coming and going, when all she really wants is to hear him say it again and again, his strange warm breath against her ear.

"Can I...?" She glides back to him where he remains unmoving, as if he's holding the door shut against something, and stands on her tip-toes, bringing her arms behind his neck. They stay that way for a long second, considering one another, neither closing their eyes to the other, drinking the sight in. But now her mouth is on his in that most human of ways, and this new body responds as if born for it. Perhaps it was. Maybe everything up to this moment was a preamble, simply action that would propel them both towards each other. And they do crash together, the unstoppable force and the immovable object, lips and tongues and teeth, bruising one another and forgetting to breathe.

When I was writing this, this is sort of the point where I had to decide whether this would be tender lovemaking, or a hot as hell shag right then and there. Clearly, I chose the former, mainly because I think I was procrastinating writing the actual sex part.

She tastes him and it is like over-ripe fruit and sea salt and she can not get enough, dipping her tongue in to his mouth, running it along his jawline to behind his ear and the little cleft there that is smooth and musky and, she thinks, made just for her.

I don't like to write tongue kissing and do a lot of stuff to get out of it. I find that a lot of people write tongue kissing in a way where I'm like, "Wait, he did what with his tongue in her mouth? Are me and my husband doing something wrong?"

His head falls back and hits the door and a moan percolates in his throat when she presses her body to his, stands on her toes as if she is going to scale him in order to close the last inch of distance between them. He is hypnotized by the feel of her body against his, how it moves with every kiss she places, how her hands dance through his hair and press him to her. It is, then, with a supreme act of will that he places his hands on her waist and, instead of savoring the ready access to honeyed skin, he moves her back from him, just slightly.

"Wait," he pants, his eyes still closed.

"What?" She places a hand palm-down on his chest, to steady herself but also to feel the one heart beating there. She has done this many times now, to reassure herself that he really is the man who could love her.

"Are you okay? With this?" He opens his eyes and they are full and nearly black with desire, but bright as lanterns in the darkening room. His hands are still on her waist, still have not moved up, to touch the skin so easily found there, nor down to caress her curves and find her center. He guides her away from the door, removes his jacket and hangs it next to hers.

Another chance for me to prove my point about the validity of Rose's choice. And also to get these two away from the door and somewhere where they can get a bit more comfortable.

"Why wouldn't it be okay?" She is still standing where he has placed her, while he stalks over to a sofa and sits. He clenches and unclenches his left hand and she can see that the muscles in his neck are taught, displaying his single pulse for her to easily see.

Like most writers of Alt!Ten smut, my assumption is that being a human makes him, well, horny. Hornier than the Time Lord version.

"I could understand if it's too soon."

Same man, she tells herself. They look the same, they think the same, and of course they would think like this. He would think like this. "I've been waiting four years to see you again."

LOL got that, readers? SAME GUY! Rose's choice = a-okay!

She toes her shoes off and pads near to where he sits on the couch, looking down at him, taking measure of how his knees splay this way and that, how his arms lay pale against the dark forest green upholstery, how he folds his lanky body up. He brings a hand down and pulls one shoelace and then the other, murmuring, "Three years, two hundred and six days, thirteen hours, fortynine point eight four seconds." He removes a trainer and places it off to one side. "Give or take a few nanoseconds."

Okay, two things going on here. One: shoes. The Doctor has to wear bloody hightops doesn't he? Two: For those who read the main story, his rattling off of the exact time they've been apart is the first clue that his extra senses are still fully intact and and the whole business there about (all together now) Touching Time is just as possible with Alt!Ten. Friends, the way for telepathic!sex is now paved. Hurrah.

"Time," she says.

He slowly removes the other shoe. "Time. Your Time."

"What's the best that could happen?" She moves a step closer.

He carefully places the shoe next to its mate, looks up to her with lamp-like eyes, his whole face lifted in to an open smile. "It could be wonderful."

A call-back to the Doctor's initial "ZOMG horrible things could happen!" hang-up in the main story. So, now we know that Alt!Doc is not feeling the same way in that regard. He's done with the never evers and the shouldn't and is all about gathering ye rosebuds etc....

Now she is grinning too, closing the distance between them with two light steps and straddling him on the couch, their smiles mirroring one another, their foreheads meeting. He wraps his arms around her and kisses the apple of her cheek. "Can," he breathes against her and then moves to inhale the scent at her throat, which is faintly of jasmine and the ocean. "Should." He takes her bottom lip lightly between his teeth and then fully covers her mouth with his, his hands now seeking flesh anywhere he can find it, moving clothes out of the way, pressing the pads of his fingers in to the small of her back, his thumbs tracing arabesques on her stomach. "Always," he moans when she begins to run her lips down his chin to his Adams apple.

Obvs the Doc's words here are the opposites of "can't" "shouldn't" and "never ever" (and yes, I did have a long think about what the opposite of "never ever" is). Also: things are beginning to heat up. My ability to procrastinate is waning.

His body is tight and lean under the cotton of his shirt and she begins to pull it from his trousers, aching to know if the oblique muscles of his hips would feel like they did in her dreams.

I can not be the only woman who is really really in to this part of the male anatomy.

She'd had to look up in a book what they were called, so often did she wake to the feel of them still burned in to her hands. Taking advantage of her position above him she simultaneously plunges again in to the warm hunger of his mouth and settles down in to his lap, as they both make their own low sounds of delight. His hands are almost large enough to completely encircle her, and he encourages her movements, kneading and driving her further downward. The demand implicit in this sends a thrill from the top of her head to the pit of her stomach, where a knot of warmth forms, and begins to spread outward before becoming an almost unbearable heat.

Now is probably the time to talk about the very long list of words and phrases that I simply can not let myself type. Not at this time at least. I've learned to stop saying "I'm never going to write XYZ". I have a hard time getting anatomical. Erection I will be able to bring myself to use once or twice. Cock? I don't think I've ever used that. Clit? Again, never.  Anything that it sounds like it could be in a medical textbook, also a negatory. I don't know what it is. So I tend to grasp for a lot of metaphors and  euphamisms and just sort of assume that my readers know that there is touching and rubbing going on. Genitals, friction, we all know how that goes.

More than anything, more than his mouth now finding new and unexplored areas of her neck, more than his hands sliding under her jumper and over her breasts, it is his obvious lust that she finds most driving her own desire. He wants her so adamantly, becoming more vocal with his encouragement as she moves her hips to enjoy his hardness. This out of control version of him is wildly erotic, more so than she ever could have hoped to dream of.

Of course a version of the Doctor that totally wants to shag her rotten is uber-sexy. The Doctor is such a control freak, being able make him (or a version of him) loose control has got to be a massive turn-on.

She sinks further down on to him, and even through all the layers of clothes they are still wearing, the resistance she finds there seems like a miracle, the blossoming at her center almost painful and she cries out his name, for the first time in all the long years of wanting to. His arms tighten around her and bring her against him so that on the last syllable, he feels the vibrations in his own chest, rattling his own single heart. With a swift and fluid movement, he snatches her jumper and pulls it over her head, and she not only doesn't resist but brings her arms up and tugs at the sleeves, casting it off as quick as possible so they can come back together.

Yeah, she's totally not wearing a jumper in that Bad Wolf Bay scene. My bad.

He ducks his head down and begins to lap up the dew that has formed in the cleft between her breasts and she runs a hand through his hair, perhaps grabbing and tugging it more than she intended. At the sound of his pleasure at her salty-sweet taste, she again swivels her hips, rising up slightly and coming back down, biting her bottom lip to keep from alerting all of London to how badly she wants this man inside her. He too pauses from where he is working his hands under her behind, and his mouth under her breast as she does this and his hips buck up slightly, though in the position he's in, it's awkward.

So, I don't know what y'all do, but when I'm starting to work on a smut!fic, I kind of go through my catelogue of sexual positions first and decide how, mechanically, they're going to do it, before really anything else. Is that weird? Anyway, I knew I wanted them on a couch, him sitting and her straddling him. It started out as them actually having sex that way, but again: my procrastination, your gain.

Regaining control of himself, stopping and panting and doing some complicated equations in his head to distract himself momentarily, he brings his hands fully under her very round, very pleasing, very warm rump and lifts her up off of his lap just a bit, just enough to relieve some pressure. There are other things to attend to in this, their first discovery of each other as proper lovers. Her hands are twined at the back of his neck and in one smooth motion, he stands from the couch and she finds herself several feet off the floor and being carried through the now extremely dark flat. She squeals and wraps her legs around him, smiles in to his shoulder, and finds herself lowered on to her bed. It is still neatly made from the morning she left to defend the Universe.

Part 2: What Was.

Okay, the change of tense. This started out as an accident. As I was writing and right around this point I just randomly and for no reason forgot that I was writing in present tense and changed to past.  It took me several days to write this (which is unusual for me) and I just forgot. Anyway, once I did it, I went back to change it all back to present but then it struck me. Seriously, just a bolt of inspiration. This whole thing is about Time, so let's play with time a bit in the narrative. It didn't even occur to me at the time that that meant that I'd have to write in the fucking future tense (and write fucking in the future tense!).

Every species favors some of its senses over others. Some can smell layers of meaning in each scent, while others taste one another in greeting. If Rose, as she squirmed and mewled under his hand, was any indication, Humans thrived on touch. Time Lords naturally found Time to be the most important, most meaningful sense. But a part-Time-Lord-part-Human would just have to find out for himself which was better.

This also signals a point where I go more Doc POV. I find Doc POV to be really interesting but really daunting. All this extra sense stuff is covered in the main story. I have always been intensely intrigued by the glimpses we get of the Doctor's perception of time and space. When it is mentioned, it's implied that it's like this incredibly intense thing ("Doesn't it drive you mad?") but then it's never discussed again for another like 9 episodes until it's brought up again as this super important thing, but then forgotten about again.

He laid next to where he had placed her on the bed and propped himself up on an elbow. She played her fingers along the bottom of his shirt and skimmed them along the inside of his waistband until he brushed them lightly away. He could still sense her Time, as he--or the other him--had always been able to. That faculty remained unchanged. But he was finding the purely physical need to touch with hands and lips and tongue was for the first time legitimately competing with the desire to reach out to her Time and bring his together with it.

Without the full power of a Time Lord, he was sure that the potential dangers of dancing with the Wolf were eliminated. He'd thought of little else amid the meaningless chit-chat  of the journey back from Norway. He'd flexed his senses, tested them, observed Rose's Time from afar and noted the differences. He'd finally concluded that receiving the sensual best of both worlds, Time Lord and Human, may be consolation enough for being stuck on one world, in one time, with a breathtakingly short lifespan. Now, he thought, he may never leave this flat again.

A little exposition stuck in to your smut, my apologies. I had to establish that this is one of the reasons that Alt!Ten is the man who can love Rose, when Ten never could have been.

He placed a hand palm down on her bare stomach and watched her respond. The few short moments between when he had set her down and when he settled beside her, and again placed his hand on her, served to inflame her hunger to be touched even more, and her soft little belly quivered at the merest brush of his hand against it. She opened her eyes and found him gazing at her as he traced complicated patterns on her bare stomach, swiping every so often just a millimeter under her bra, or fluttering a whole hand over a breast with just the barest contact.

"So, Doctor," she said, her voice purring.

"So," he replied warmly. "I just wanted to get a good look at you." He smiled a small little smile that made a dimple pop on his right cheek. "And to touch you. That feels rather good. Better, actually, than...what I was. I mean, the Human part of me enjoys it more." At that he brushed a knuckle over one of her nipples. She squirmed and grabbed the fabric of his shirt.

"It's customary," she panted, "among us Humans, to actually do it rather than talk about it."

But the Doctor always talks, doesn't he? I think that Talky!Sexy! Ten is hilarious and also hot.

"Oh, I think I'll do it too, don't worry. But this body, this experience, it's so new. I want to share everything with you, I want you to know what it's like." He ghosted a hand over her other breast and she tightened her grip on his shirt and began to pull.

"You would, wouldn't you?" she growled and brought her other hand over to make it clear that his shirt was coming off immediately. She threw it off to the side and it took a few things off the bedside table with a clatter as it fell to the floor. She ran both hands up and down his chest, savoring the feel of his skin, his hair, his single pulse pounding faster than his chatty demeanor would indicate.

"And your smell," he continued, undaunted. "The TARDIS was never the same without your smell in it." He brought his head down and began to run kisses under he breasts and then down her belly, around her belly button and then lower. He inhaled deeply at every breath, and finally unbuttoned the top button of her trousers and ran his tongue just there, at the top of her knickers. "And your taste," he said as he brought his head up again to look her in the eye. "You have no idea how amazing you taste, all the little chemicals that make you you, in perfect conjunction." He closed his eyes and ran his tongue over his own lips, taking in every last trace of her there, and at the same time bringing his free hand to rest on her pelvis. Her hips rose to meet him and in one strong quick movement, he ran a knuckle straight down to her very center. She cried out, not his name or any other actual word, just a moan of pleasure. "And I love to hear you like that."

Ticking off all the human senses here. He's trying to himself figure out what it's all about, his human senses now going in to overdrive where previously as a Time Lord there'd be a strict hierarchy of what was most keen and important.

She was panting under his hand, which remained constantly moving, never staying in any one location long enough to fully satisfy her. He could tell she was growing frustrated, and he was surprised to find that he liked that immensely. There may have been a bit of a wicked smile flickering over his face. He unzipped her trousers and pulled the fabric apart to expose her lacy knickers. They'd done a bit of laundry while waiting to be picked up in Norway, but were these really what she helped save the Universe in? That was a notion so unbearably erotic, he thought he might climax on the spot and ruin the rest of the evening he had planned.

I can't really write "orgasm" so add that to the list.  Climax works better for me (and this of course is in no way due to that DT Parky interview ahem). Anyway, am I the only one who finds the idea of the Knickers That Saved the Universe really hot?

Her breath was ragged and her body now seemed to move without any purpose, seeking his blindly.

"Are you quite finished with your soliloquy?" she panted.

Would Rose say "soliloquy"? I don't know. I liked it.

In answer, he tugged her trousers down further and she lifted her hips so he could pull them off her completely. Matching bra and knickers, very aesthetically pleasing.

I like him being a little clinical here in learning about sex as a human and what is and is not pleasing.

Since he was down there anyway, he took one of her little feet in his hand and brought it to his mouth, running his tongue and lips along the instep. She giggled, a very low, round, wonderful sound. "I wasn't quite done," he said against the inside of her ankle. "These human senses, they're quite overwhelming." He punctuated ever word with a kiss placed ever higher up her calf. "But the Time Lord senses, I've got them as well." He was up to the back of her knee, pausing to concentrate on the dewy musk he found there. "Though I'm afraid...." Moving up her thigh. "I'm afraid that you won't get that much...." His tongue darted up the damp fabric of her knickers and she shuddered and gathered the duvet in her hands. "You won't get much out of those."

Explaining to Rose and the reader what's going on with the Time sense and that he wants to engage it more fully with her but, since she's human it's a bit beyond her understanding. He doesn't want to be selfish, awwww.

She was unable to say anything for a long moment, her eyes squeezed shut, her teeth on her bottom lip, and her chest rising and falling. "I'm getting plenty," she finally whispered hoarsely. "Really." She appeared to collect herself somewhat and opened her eyes to find him hovering over her, hands placed on either side of her hips, eyes black, and he was trembling slightly but visibly. "You do whatever you want to do. But one question."

He licked his lips slowly, the tip of his tongue just barely peeking out of the corners of his mouth. "What's that?" His voice was also becoming ragged.

"Why are you still wearing clothes?" She ran her hand down his chest, tripping her nails lightly over each nipple as she did, and then urged him up over her more so she could begin to undo his trousers. As her hands worked the clasp and the zip, she felt his arms begin to tremble more as he pressed himself over her, and she took the opportunity to grab his hips and in a quick movement topple him over and reverse their positions. He did not protest. Nor did he protest when she grabbed the waistbands of both his trousers and pants and pulled them down, stopping so he could raise his hips to facilitate the procedure. Up until that point she had not touched his erection with her hands, but now she made sure to stroke its length once as she removed his clothing and then again when she came back to sitting up. She seemed fairly happy with it, which was a relief to him in a way that only Human males feel relieved. Such bewildering, irrational thoughts entered his mind--aggressive, sensual thoughts of invading and pillaging and taking.

Okay, I'm not a man, so I'm only speculating here on the sorts of thoughts that owning a penis brings. The male/female PIV sex act has its inherent sexual politics, but it's not something I give that much thought to. However, my Doc is a sensitive kind of guy and finding himself wanting to like, penetrate and thrust and such I think might surprise him.

The light from the street outside cast a bluish glow through the room now and with Rose sitting astride him, her mussed hair was like a halo, and her skin took on a translucent glow. She was like a being from another world, and in a way, she was one. She reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, letting it fall down her arms before discarding it on to the floor. Her breasts were perfect. He'd never understood the human preoccupation with overly large breasts on their women, though he supposed there must be some sort of evolutionary advantage. Her breasts seemed to be made for his hands and his mouth, her nipples a rosey-golden color and hard. He reached out to cup one and she sighed and leaned in to him. He could feel on his bare legs how hot and ready for him she was and he brought his hand down to pluck ineffectually at her knickers.

"Off," was all he was able to get out before she lightly stroked him again and he lost his train of thought.

Dutifully she rocked to the side and removed them, and he didn't really pay attention to the mechanics or the specifics of what was happening because the only important thing was that it was happening, and that her dark curls were brushing against his leg and that she was lowering herself to run her tongue up his length slowly, leaving a trail of ice in its wake.

Removing underthings can be difficult to write, I discovered here. Sometimes you have to like stop the action and just disrobe. That's how it works in real life much of the time (unless I'm just Doing It Wrong).

When she sat up over him again, she placed a hand on his stomach, felt the fluttering there, and whispered, "Time. I want you to."

This volition is important. She says the same thing in the main story, but the Doctor refuses. In my vision of how this works, part of what makes the experience so intense for him is the act of her offering it to him. Maybe I should talk a bit about what this whole Time business is. Time of course is another dimension, like depth or width or whatever. My idea is that the Doctor can perceive timelines, not in any way that as humans we could really grasp, but he's said that he can see what is and what was and what shouldn't be and what must be.  All the time. That's gotta be mindblowing and it's kind of blowing my mind thinking about it. Anyway, he says in the main story that seeing Time for him is like looking at a stream and not necissarily seeing all of the molecules even though they are there. He has to selectively look if he really wants to examine the Time of something or someone. And the Time of things and beings is just like any other sense to us, it can be attractive or repelling or tempting. And further, if he chooses to he can bring his Time together with someone else's, which I'm sort of thinking as a very Time Lordy way of making love. The time streams merge and flow together, and the experience is like really sharing yourself completely with someone that you love. And beyond that, don't ask me how it works because I have no idea!

And there was no doubt she was fully opening her Time to him, to touch and explore and bring his together with. He could feel its beautiful heat, it's melancholy of all the years of waiting, the terrible Bad Wolf always a nimbus around the edges, dangerous and alluring. His own Time was a little strange, ragged and torn, complicated patterns came together but made no sense, a complete contrast to the impossible perfection of hers.

Alt!Ten is unique in the universe, and kind of Wrong, so I imagine his timeline is a bit weird.

As he brings his tattered Time together with hers and the rest of the Universe falls away and the rest of time dilates, he knows that she has at last guided him to her, that they are one being in Touch and in Time. This is the meaning, this is the end point, and the beginning, this is all things and nothing.

Can't really explain this bit, it just is. Timey-wimey etc....

Part 3: What Will Be.

And this is the part where I went, "Oh, shit. I really have to write this way, don't I?"

This is what they will do and be.

I wanted this fic to smack a bit of the eternal. Rose and the Doctor is my OTP and as much as I might torture them and play with the possibilities, I'm a complete schmoop over them. Complete and total. I wanted there to be grandeur to this fic, and hopefully it accomplished that without sliding in to "pretentious".

She will move against him, hands feeling his single perfect heart pounding in his chest, knees planted either side of his hips. He will close his eyes and feel the room, the world, the Universe disappear, and he will open himself to her in return and hope against hope that she feels a fraction of what he is feeling. He will surrender control and ride the hot winds of their integrated Time, stretching backwards to the beginning of all things and forwards to the end, and then back around again.

I've gone to a more omniscient POV in this bit. I like balance (I'm a bit OCD to be honest) and if I had a Rose POV and a Doc POV, there had to be an omniscient POV to round it out.

When she has enjoyed the feeling of him still and warm inside her, she will begin to rock back and forth, slowly so as to savor the feeling of every little vein and pulse point, imagining the hot blood feeding his desire, and loving his loss of control. To him, she appears to become golden with an internal light, the Wolf no longer fearsome but strong and beautiful and eternal, foolishly created from a fabric of purest love. She will see him open his eyes and sweep his gaze over her and she will not feel self-conscious, but will see herself the way he sees her.

I'm running out of things to say at this point. Honestly this last bit just kind of came out of me. Once I got over the future tense, it just sort of happened. But I will say that my total bias for Rose comes out in my portrayal of her Bad Wolfery and how it came about.

He will bring his hands to her hips, rest them there just to feel her muscles slide back and forth under her skin as she again almost leaves him but at the last moment slides to subsume him in her again. He may grab her then, goad her on, let her know of his need, or he may simply bring his hands under her and bring his legs up so she can lean back against his thighs, and he may just watch her there, watch the point where they join together, see their Time running fast together there too.  He wants to see her with his eyes, and smell the perfume of their union, hear her moan and cry his name, dip his fingers in to her folds and taste her desire. He wants to touch every part of her with every part of him, and he will. This is what they will do.

Again with the five human senses. I like returning to motifs. As I say: a bit OCD. Also, being in a position where you can see the action? That's hot as hell and unfortunately a lot easier for guys than us ladies.

She will lean back, grasp her ankles with her hands and throw her head back so that her breasts sit up, full and round. He will run his hands over them, pluck at her nipples, bring a finger down under them and feel their weight, as she once again rocks back and off of him and then slowly enfolds him again. He will lift his hips to meet hers, he will move his Time to mingle with hers, he will touch the slick, wet spot where they come together, not being able to tell for a moment what is her and what is him. He will feel what she needs him to do without her saying, and he will cover the place where they join with his long fingers and press lightly there, doubling his pleasure as well as hers. She will lean back further, moan deeply in her throat, and he will make sounds that seem to be ripped from his chest with no involvement from his brain.

Overshare time: I am one of the many women who really can't achieve orgasm through penetration alone. So, if everyone's gonna come (and it's fic so of course they are), there's got to be some digits. But I actually find touching the point of penetration to be like crazy insane hot, if it's me doing it or the Hubs.

She will feel the dilation and contraction of Time around them, feel that perhaps they have been together this way for centuries, forever, or that this is a prediction, this hasn't happened yet, might never happen. It is one way, a possibility, or a certainty, or a memory. She may feel that merged together in this way there is nothing else to do in her life, nothing more to experience.

I honestly don't even remember writing that last sentence. But I like the idea of Rose feeling the effects of the Doctor merging their Time even if she can't fully experience it the way he does.

He will be hot like he never was before, and he will want her, lust after her, have these too-human failings, and fall in love with her every second of every day until the end. She will press herself against his fingers, and down on to his sex, and squeeze her eyes shut to see tiny white stars. She will feel him throb inside of her and be able to hold back no longer, will take his wrists in her hands and pin them on either side of his head, where his large eyes are shut and his mouth hangs sensuously open. She will lean over him and let him lift up and pound in to her, no longer controlling his loss of control. She will let him feel this Human sensation of taking and giving simultaneously.

That's sex in a nut shell, ain't it?

This is what they will be.

When she releases her weight from his hips and invites him to feel everything, as much as he can, he will feel like he is taking her rather than sharing, and it will be frightening and inescapable, and as he relinquishes control to flow through their merged Time he will thrust and buck against her and care nothing for anything else. He will hear her cry his name a last time, feel her flow hot against his thighs, her muscles clenching him, and he will no longer be able to be polite.

Rawr. Hell yeah. Is it getting hot in here? Stop being polite, Doctor. Shag her rotten. On a more serious note, I like talking about the dominance/submission aspects of even pretty normal vanilla sex.

With all of his strength he will break the bonds she has made at his wrists with her little Human hands, grab her hips and roll to cover her with his body. He will spread her legs wide and pull her to where he will kneel before her, enter her roughly and enjoy the sight of her mouth forming an "O" and her eyelids fluttering. He will take, and he will feel like he is about to explode and he will suddenly understand what it is to touch. It will be his turn to cry her name, guttural and primal and strange to his ears. She will encourage him, encourage this invasion, wrap her legs around his hips, grab the duvet in uncontrolled spasms of her hand, pound the wall behind her head to drive him even deeper in to her.

They will mingle their sweat, mingle the few dozen square feet of their skin, mingle their Time. He will release in to her and mingle their lives.

I had to wiki how many square feet of skin we have. The things you do for fic.

He will understand what it is to be human. She will be his teacher. This is what they will do and be. Can. Should. Always.

Awwwwww.....