There were times that she dreamed about how it would happen. She would lie awake at night, imagining what the texture of his leather coat would feel against her skin; how his scent would drive her mad. And how the blue of his eyes would look up close.
But nothing ever happened.
Not that she didn’t give it a go. There were plenty of flirtatious glances and casual innuendos. But he seemed completely immune to her advances, despite her best efforts.
Then things changed, everything changed and it seemed to get a bit easier for her. So what if his hand lingered in hers a little bit longer. She didn’t care that his arms seemed to tighten around her body for longer than necessary and that his eyes seem to seek out hers more often. She craved the closeness and loved his light-heartedness.
But she never imagined it would be as easy as mistletoe.
Mistletoe. Such a cliché.
His eyes were dark and seductive. They lingered on her lips and she wanted him to kiss her. More than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.
“Well,” she said. She knew she could stand here all night and stare at him. “It is Christmas.”
“And that makes it easier.”
She smiled. “And we wouldn’t be taking advantage of the mistletoe?”
“You put that there on purpose.”
She had never seen him so quiet, so still. After all this time, she still could never be sure what he was thinking. His energy and enthusiasm could be sexy, but more times than not, it was exhausting.
But Rose didn’t want to change him. Okay, she did at times. But he was entirely what she fell in love with, sarcasm and all. “So Mum’s expecting us, turkey nut loaf and all, so I better go change, yeah?” she said, still grinning. It was impossible to stop, the way he was looking at her.
The Doctor nodded. “Okay, then.”
She turned to go. His hand reached out and grazed her shoulder, then slid oh so-slowly down her arm. The soft material of her tee shirt clung to her skin as his fingers swept downward, over her bicep and forearm. His warm skin caressed her wrist a moment before his fingers skimmed over her palm and twined with hers. A gentle pull had her turning fully to him.
He took one step forward and closed the gap between them. Rose scarcely had a moment to pull in a breath before his lips touched hers. A whisper of a kiss. So soft and warm and fleeting, she could have dreamed it. But then his mouth touched hers again and her eyelids fluttered closed. This was no dream. This was the most erotic moment she’d ever experienced.
The Doctor’s lips pressed to hers for only a heartbeat before they simultaneously opened their mouths. His tongue slipped past her teeth and swept over hers. His free hand cupped her cheek as his body melded to hers. Their clothes, the moist skin, the heat that arced between them did a wicked number on her insides. Her entire body went into sensory overload. His tongue delved deeper, teasing hers, tangling with it in a sensual dance that left her molten and damn near singed to the core.
Her fingers skimmed over his side, up his rib cage. She clasped a fistful of now-limp blue cotton, literally clutching at him, holding him to her. His hand, in turn, moved from her face and plowed through her hair, his fingers burrowing deep in the blonde strands.
Rose heard a whimper of need lodge in her throat. He deepened the kiss. Their bodies were pressed together, yet she felt the insane desire to get closer to him. So much more so than she currently was. She longed for their clothes to melt away, wanting desperately to press her naked breasts to his warm skin. She wanted their limbs entwined, every inch of their bodies touching each other. She longed for this. Craved it.
She wanted more than this, really. As his kiss became more impassioned with every second that passed, Rose could think of nothing else but having him inside her. She wilted under his touch, her entire body seemingly liquefying. She could feel the tremble in her legs, a slight vibration that worked its way up to the apex where her sex throbbed in wicked beats.
The sounds and smells of the Tardis faded into non-existence. All thoughts, save for the truly erotic ones, receded into the far recesses of her mind. All that registered was the feel of his lips on hers, the tantalizing sweep of his tongue, the warmth and strength of his fingers as they remained twined with hers, the heat and sensuality that engulfed her.
What should have been a friendly kiss, even a quick parting kiss, turned into something so sensuous; Rose lost all touch with reality.
This was how she’d dreamed of being kissed by him. This was the kind of passionate, erotic, fully engaging kiss that she’d longed for. He delivered it with such skill, such intimacy; she wondered how she’d live until their next kiss. It was that fabulous. That… perfect.
As he gently pulled away, she knew she should have bemoaned the loss. Her entire being felt the connection being broken as he moved away from her. But it really hadn’t been broken. Even as he stepped back, his fingers releasing hers, his hand slipping from her hair, she felt an innate bond. It was mystical, magical. Something beyond her comprehension. It was erotically powerful, yet heartwarming.
“Wow, perhaps we should leave the mistletoe up year round." His eyes hadn’t quite gain back its focus.
She reluctantly turned to leave, a smile pulling at the edge of her mouth. “Do we really need the mistletoe?”