by jer832 [Reviews - 0]

  • Teen
  • None
  • Action/Adventure, Romance

Author's Notes:
The stories referenced herein are: "Romancing the Stone" - screenplay by Diane Thomas; "Star Wars Episode 4, A New Hope"- screenplay by George Lucas; "Tarzan" - original story by Edgar Rice Burroughs, dozens of movie adaptations (frankly, I think Carol Burnett's Tarzan is the best Tarzan ever)

This is for Glory_Jean. I adore all the stories she's written -- which encompasses everything from truly gorgeous unbound poetry disguised by punctuation, to total make-you-laugh-out-loud crack.

Disparity: Dictionary.com: Lack of similarity or equality. Oxford Dictionary: a difference, especially one connected with unfair treatment From late Latin disparitas, based on the Latin paritas - 'parity'


1.  hanging in a dungeon.

Rose was bound and shackled and hanging off a thick chain in a dank, dimly lit dungeon. Her body dangled heavily and more than a little painfully, about half a meter above the floor. The Doctor hung next to her similarly shackled, but he was tall enough that his toes just reached the floor. It was usually like that for them when they got locked in dungeons, and Rose thought it was not half unfair.  She was waiting patiently for him to come up with an escape plan; the least he could do was offer to let her wrap her legs around him to ease her discomfort.

It was taking the Doctor longer than he'd thought to pick the lock on his shackles. He wondered if he'd gotten a bit too dependent on the sonic screwdriver—there was a time he hadn't carried one at all and did perfectly well without it. … Not the third?... no, the Time Lords had been arrogant and cruel, and when they'd put their superior minds to it as a group they were consummately stupid about little things like inadvertently giving him a loophole, such as the sonic screwdriver, through which to escape with his life. The fifth? —that one was still a little vague. The— But he could reminisce later; right then his companion's spirit and body needed a bit of uplifting. He remembered seeing a pile of whatnot when Rose and he were brought in.  He stretched a long leg and felt around, dragging on the heavy chain to get himself a bit more distance over the floor.

"You look like a ballet dancer," Rose chuckled. "Except for those boots and no tights."

"Nope, no tights. They aren't my style."

Rose choked out a laugh, and it made her body jolt and swing, digging the chain further into flesh that was lacerated and bleeding.  "Please Doctor get us out of here faster, before I fall off my armpits."

"Working on it now."

The Doctor's toes made contact with something solid, something that felt a decent enough size as he poked his foot around, so he dragged it back.  It was a thick chunk of dried wood shaved almost flat on two sides and stained so completely with what he wouldn't tell Rose was dried blood that its original colour was lost. Nor would he tell her its intended use.

"Bend your knees a bit," he told his companion, "and raise your feet.  Swing as little as possible."


"A little less." He pushed the wood to where Rose's body dangled. "All right, Swinging Beauty, I've moved a block of wood beneath you. Ease your legs down, slowly. . .

. . .  that's it, lightly, yeah. . .

. . . just about. . .

. . . feel it?"

"My Prince Charming! It's much better, ta. How much longer?"

"I'm almost done with my intricately choreographed solo, then I'll free you, and we'll dance out of here.  Better with pas de deux, eh Rose Tyler?"

The Doctor could hear the grin as Rose replied: "Only if you're the one who's wearing the tights."

2.  cutting through a fissure in a cliff 

"Rose, hold up. There's a notch in the cliff face."

 "All I can see through the mist from the waterfall is more rock, and then nothing."

"That's not nothing, that's the notch."

"Can we get around it?"

"Don't know yet."

"Where does it lead to?"

"The other side of the notch."

"I mean, are you certain that there is more of this goat trail we've been climbing down — which by the way I doubt any goat in his right mind would have made — and that the other side of this notch will get us to it?"

"Certain enough. It's light beyond, Rose, daylight-light. Once we're through to the other side there will be plenty more nice sheer rock for the goats and us to climb down."

"So you're saying no plummet of doom through a bloody great nothing in the cliff, into the waterfall and an icy not-fun drowning death."

"No plummet of doom. The notch is, this is lucky for us, it should make it easier to— Hang on a moment, I'll check . . .   

. . .  I'm heading . . .    I can see . . . 


"No need to shout, Doctor, I can hear you in there; the rock mutes the sound of the falls."

 "An echo would be fun."

"Maybe later, if you take me someplace dry for dinner."

"What d'you say, Rose?"

"Not falling for that, Doctor."

"Over the centuries, the river dissolved away the soluble limestone stratum between these granite strata, creating this passage. . . Rose, it's— hold on again . . .

. . .  . . . The passage is somewhat longer than I am and slopes down. The space narrows considerably, so it's a good thing that among her many fantastic qualities, like being drip-dry and wrinkle-free, my companion is not claustrophobic. It drops off at the end into another . . .

. . . bigger maybe? I can’t quite . . . wait . . .   . . . 

. . . OW!  Bugger, that wasn't — ! . . . "

"Are you alright in there?"

"I'm fine, and now we know that the end of the passage is low and tight. There isn’t enough height for me to sit off the edge, but it looks like just a small drop-off... let’s see... yeah. I estimate that with a good stretch of my legs my feet would come about a third of the way down."

"One and a half Doctors?"

"Call the distance just a bit under two and a half meters, because my top half is longer than my bottom half."

"Huh. Never thought I'd hear you say anything like that, Doctor, are you sure you completed your A levels in maths?"


"Only cute?  You wouldn't say foxy?"

"I'm taking back cute. I'm sure we're not at a dead-end. The chamber below the notch is definitely sunlit, and I can see trees beyond. We'll likely come out somewhere on the sheltered side of the cliff.  No more slipperiness from the spray, at most some dampness from run-off over the edge of the notch and down through the limestone. Fresh air and mid-day sunlight.  So, no more fallout from the fall of the falls, and if you want to take the time, you could stop to work on your tan."          

"Adorable, Doctor."

"Not dashing and handsome Doctor?"         

"If you really want to start that again, we're still waiting on foxy."

"I'm going to drop down off the edge of the notch. When you follow, take it feet first, your bum under you. There's enough light coming in that you'll be able to watch where you're going — but seriously Rose, it gets very tight at the end, so be careful you don't hit your head. Keep your mass high and use the strength in your arms and legs to control your body on the gradient. When you reach the drop-off just sit on the edge and let your legs hang straight down; you'll feel my hands at your ankles steadying you. Keep your legs together as I move up your legs. Start to ease your bum over the edge of the rock, but hold yourself back until you feel my hands up around your thighs then let yourself go. Wrap your hands over my shoulders and hold me as I bring you down. This is very important: do not swing your legs; I'll be standing directly in front of you. Got all that, Rose Tyler?"

"Crab walk down the incline with my center of gravity in my upper body not my bum, low ceiling like a limbo stick, simple 90 degree dismount and stick the landing, 9-point-9 for form— easy."

 "I'd say you're trying to sound impressive, but I've seen your skills firsthand.

. . . Okay, Rose, I'm down out of the notch. The rock is flat and dry and there's plenty of room for two to stand . . .

. . . and . . .  

. . . now I'm in position to catch you, Rose."  

"And now I'm in position to follow you, Doctor. Here goes. 

. . . crab walking under the limbo stick . . .

. . .  yuck! SLIMY limbo stick. Stop laughing, you! There's lots of algae in here . . .

. . . It's not bad, pretty easy going so far.  From your description, I expected tighter . . .

. . . huh . . .   I didn't think it would take me this long to move down your length, Doctor." 

"So you're taking it slow and careful over me."

"Well if you prefer, I'd be happy to, uh, I, I've hit a smooth part."

"Are you at the drop?"

“I can’t make out anything but rock. Was there more than the one way through? The falls are getting louder. 

. .  I can't hold myself up, Doctor. It’s too smooth, I'm losing my grip." 

"Rose, it's okay— "

“My crab legs just kissed the notch good-by and I'm slipping! I'm trying to hold on until I can feel your hands but— Doctor where are you? Are you certain I'm not hanging over the falls?" 

"No, you're hanging over me."

"I don't feel you."



”As it turns out, my bottom half is longer than my top half, and the distance down is just a bit more than I estimated, but—"

"A bit?"

"Rose, I promise you, you're hanging above me, and the falls is on the other side of a lot of rock.  I can just about reach your feet. Let go and let gravity and me do the rest. Remember to keep your legs— Ro— !! Ow!!"    

"!! Hey!"

"!! Bloody hell Rose I said don't— "    "— !! Oi Doctor- hands hands!!" 




3.  getting across a canyon

"This will work fine, Rose.” 

The Doctor yanked on the free end of the huge vine he had dragged and bullied with no little effort and some really impressive tightrope work through the even more impressive tangle of tree limbs and thick branches that had grown out from two ancient stands of trees atop the opposing cliffs and formed a living brolly over the narrow canyon. Simply getting on with life, the trees had pursued the sunlight over the gorge and flourished, creating this deciduous cat's cradle in thin air; the result spoke to the Doctor of an engineering and artistic achievement measured in scores of centuries if not millennia, the ineluctable power of Nature, and of something of a miracle (although the Doctor did not believe in miracles) for Rose and him.  

The TARDIS was on the other side of the canyon. With the bridge across the canyon destroyed, the only way to get back to her depended on him getting across this aerial mass of interwoven and entangled limbs, which didn't always weave or tangle, or even actually meet, to free and bring back this one particular vine undamaged and still solidly anchored to its host tree. It was simply good luck that he'd spotted the vine hanging off a massive old tree on the other side, and seen enough to calculate that they actually could use it to swing across the narrow gorge. He'd been certain that it would work. (work, that is, as long as he could get the bloody thing back to their side of the canyon without falling and regenerating himself, or the verdant creeper going rogue and shanghaiing him to the wrong side of the canyon. Either would have left Rose stuck and vulnerable; but this was their only chance out, and so he'd told bad luck to stay out of the way of the Oncoming Storm.) He had determined his route through limbs and branches that should support his weight then told Rose not to worry it would work fine. He didn't tell her how many kilometers above the canyon floor he would be hanging, crawling, and at some point finding his way literally by the seat of his pants. He could tell she was going to ask questions he didn't want to answer, so he instructed her to just stay quiet unless she was being dragged off by any bad guys, so that he could concentrate. Now that he was back on the ground he could give her a quick grin and firmer assurances. 

Rose gazed around what could have been the setting of a "Romancing the Stone"/"Indiana Jones" crossover. "Joanjones"? "Jonesingjoan"?  Nope, no way.  "Joaniana"

“You always say it can’t work when we get to that part in the movie."

”Those are silly movies going for impressive special effects; this is—“

”You being all impressive.”

”I was going to say physics; but I was, a bit  wasn’t I."   Before Rose had a chance to answer he continued, “and not half nervous, but my companion never needs to know.” He gave Rose a wink as he tested the vine a few more times. “It's ready for you, gymnastics girl.”

“Me first? Isn’t this supposed to be one of your ‘I’ll go first and catch you, Rose’ moments?" 

"How do you figure to build the momentum to swing yourself across if I'm not here to get you started?  Look around us; there's no room to take a running start. Jumping off a tree won’t do it, little thing like you will end up hanging above the gorge like a pendant on a lady’s throat. I’ll give you a push to start you off; then when you get across take a running start in that bit of open space and send it back.  Just please remember to let go in time to stay over there."

"Do I have the strength to send the bloody thing back to you?" The Doctor was turned away, carving a hand grip into the vine for her, and she had a feeling it was all the answer she would get. ”How will you do it?”

”I’ll catch the vine, climb this tree and give myself a push-off that will send me flying across the gorge to your big impressed smile.“

"And my arms, outstretched and ready to wrap around you — " she teased "— so you don't swing back and end up on the wrong side of the canyon where we started."

"Sure." He shrugged his eyebrows at Rose then went back to work, missing his companion's narrow-eyed stare.

”Doctor, are you sure about this? Isn't there some kind of pendulum law about where it will end up when I send it back across from the other side?" She pulled him around to face her. "You won’t get across if I muck this up. You'll be hunted down and I won't be able to get to you!"

"Rose, I don't need the vine to get across, I just need you on the other side of the canyon."

"It took you ages to crawl along those limbs to the other side, and don’t think I didn’t see how you had to stretch yourself across empty air, and when you almost fell."

"Rose. "

"Let me think."

"You don’t have much time, Rose. This will work."

"I ? Don’t you mean we don’t have much time? Doctor?"


“You’re right. We have to hurry. So shut up and LET ME THINK." She turned her back on the Doctor's argument and tuned him out, looked at what she had to work with.

"Okay, you hold onto the vine as if you’re playing Tarzan and move back against the tree. Then I’ll climb on— “

“Rose we can’t go together “

“It won’t take our combined weight?”

“No, it’ll take the weight... I think” he added quietly to himself. Not quietly enough, but Rose pretended she hadn’t heard; the Doctor wouldn't let her try something unless she had a good chance of making it.

"Rose, I just don’t know if I can grip the vine with one hand while I hold you with the other while you hang on me. That's the part of the movie that doesn't work, well probably doesn't work. I haven't tried it and I'd rather not if there's another way I know will work. And if I make footholds for us, or even only for me, I'm only weakening the vine; our support could literally drop out from under me while we're in motion.  If you can't get the vine back here, I'll just climb through the trees again, wait them out, then meet you back in the TARDIS."


"No. I cannot safely swing you across."

"Sure you can. Back up to the tree and show me Tarzan getting ready to pick up Jane for chips. Or Luke getting ready to sail through the center of the Death Star."

"Luke was too inexperienced to know he didn't have the strength to hold Leia. Rose-"

"Shhh, in a hurry, remember. And Luke has great muscles from all the heavy work he does."  Rose wrapped her hands around the Doctor’s arms, giving his biceps a little squeeze, hoisted herself onto his knees, and began to climb him — thighs, pelvis, hips. Hands on his shoulders, eye to eye with him, she grinned. “Have you ever ridden with a friend on a one-person swing?”

The Doctor broke into a matching grin. He wrapped his hands around Rose’s hips and balanced her as she climbed him, and In less than three seconds she was turned around and kneeling on his shoulders facing the canyon. She grabbed hold of the vine. "Back up until I— yeah, good."  She pressed her bum and the flats of her feet against the tree, then adjusted herself and the Doctor against it. 

"Ready, Doctor. On my mark. When we take off I'll bring my legs up to avoid drag and keep my center of gravity low. When we reach the other side land where it's best for you. I’ll do a forward flip over you if there’s enough space and get myself right out of your way. Otherwise I’ll grab for a branch and swing until I’ve used up my momentum. Don’t freak out, I know what I’m doing."

"I know."

"We will be so fast this old vine won’t know we’re up until we’re safely down and halfway to the TARDIS.”

“Just like one of your silly movies,” the Doctor said as he adjusted his grip on the vine.

Rose raised an eyebrow at that. She bent over to whisper against his ear. “Which one?”

The Doctor tapped his cheek with a finger.

“A kiss for luck, Luke?” she asked, just a bit surprised but figuring he must be nervous. What the heck, why not?

As Rose leaned in to kiss him, the Doctor turned his head quickly and kissed her cheek.

"I don’t need luck," he smiled, "I have Rose Tyler.”

4.  making breakfast in the TARDIS kitchen

Rose is at the counter getting the fixings for breakfast together when the Doctor walks in. He's wearing his new usual morning attire, which is his usual minus leather jacket and boots. The first morning she'd seen him like this it hadn't half unnerved her. She'd been searching the refrigerator shelves for the milk, heard him come in, and called to him to start the potato pancakes. When she leaned up to make sure he'd heard her, he was at the sink peeling potatoes in his denims and a jumper— no shoes+no socks+NO JACKET. She stuck her head right back in the refrigerator and started auditing the contents of the fruit drawer. They'd had a good laugh over it when she'd finally been talked back out of the refrigerator. Now she's used to him like this and hardly ever notices what he's wearing. It's no big deal.

Except today it is. She would swear on a basement full of autons that the Doctor's arms are beseeching her now to slip her hands inside his sleeves and learn the wiry muscle there with a slow erotic glide of her warm skin against his cool. Huh, she says to herself, shakes the siren call of him out of her brain, and goes on doing what she's been doing. In a bit he'll slip on his jacket and take them on their next adventure, or he'll clean up in the kitchen and work on the TARDIS while she gets in some stretching and swimming, and that'll be the end of it. She ignores him.

Rose ignores the Doctor until the Doctor makes certain that his plus-one cannot ignore him any longer.

He comes up behind Rose, leans over her, and whispers against her ear something he knows will impress her. Then his smile slides a few millimeters lower and he nips her earlobe. Rose makes a soft sound that he would like to get used to hearing and melts into him. She tilts her head back and looks up at him. His arms are full of her now, and his eyes and his head and his hearts, and he is sure those expressive amber eyes are telling him what he'd hoped to hear. He begins slow nibbling kisses down the side of her throat onto the elegant line of shoulder that serendipity and a deep V-cut tank top have contrived to gift him with this morning. Her pulse quickens for him, rushing faster the closer he comes to it. With a smile that could have a bit of a smirk in it now, he settles his mouth as near to the warm, arousal-edged sweetness as his awkward position will allow and enjoys the sensory banquet for some minutes, then he decides it's time to get them both into a more efficacious position. And that will start with setting Rose up on her feet and turning her around to face him. He settles his hands low on her hips.

The Doctor has been nibbling her shoulder, and Rose is pretty sure that he's looking down her cleavage as well, especially after that low sound he made in the back of his throat when her nipples hardened under the lightweight top. She picked a hell of a day to wash all of her bras, didn't she?! Or maybe a perfect one. She smiles at the hands that have made themselves at home on her hips, the long fingers wrapping almost fully around her. She thinks, His body HAS been asking for attention, hasn't it, and the designated driver always whinges when his instructions aren't followed precisely. She twists around, or the Doctor twists her, or maybe it's both their doing because Rose is suddenly close enough to nuzzle into that exposed bit of breastbone and throat that drives her spare, and she knows from the way the Doctor is looking at her that he will let her. Her brain shouts At last!! She drapes a leg over the firm calf muscle that is always so nicely outlined under his denims and nuzzles into the cool smooth skin inside his jumper's V. Her hands slip inside his sleeves and begin to follow the instructions that the Doctor’s arms had given her. Warm skin against cool skin and wiry muscle. Delicious.

The physical joy of holding this woman infuses the Doctor's senses, the Roseness of her fills his brain and blood with a dizzying immediacy. He feels Rose's pouty lips on his chest and his mind has just time enough to register their heat against his naked skin when they begin to slide back and forth lightly.  A kiss that isn't a kiss yet, he thinks, telling me she’s waiting for me. He raises Rose's chin and kisses the tip of her nose, and then each corner of her almost-smile. Rose unwraps herself from him just enough for them to look into each other's eyes. The Doctor sees no hesitation in her, only desire and certainty. He drops his gaze; her plump lips are parted now. Rose Tyler. . . so sweet.  So assured.

And they are kissing.  Cupping the back of Rose's head, the Doctor bows into this new passion of their connection as she stretches up onto her toes to cup his face with her hands. Rose is determined not just to kiss the Doctor but to keep his lips on hers until she finally breaches them and he takes the full force of her desire; she can't long resist the urge, though, to move one hand to the nape of his neck. She takes her time, enjoying the feel of his skin, and the plush sensuality of his hair as her fingers slip through the short strands. Her hand moves higher, fingers fanning out against the back of his head until she is holding him in their kiss just the same way he holds her. She glides one thumb over a line of honed cheekbone, learns a sensitive area between his ear and jaw with the other. The Doctor sighs into their kiss and Rose feasts on every nuance of this gorgeous new sound. One more caress of his face becomes a long tender stroke of her fingers down his chest, and then her hand moves inside his jumper.

As Rose's nails brush his belly, a deep shiver jolts through the Doctor's body. He can't stop it or control it, only ride it out. When it is finally done with him, he immediately needs to know if he can get Rose's body to shiver just like that. He untucks her tank top from her denims, slips a hand under the hem and— aha! it took barely a touch of the pads of two fingers to make Rose shiver for him as he had for her. His fingers whisper higher, reach her breasts, stroke their soft undersides. He uses only the merest intimation of touch but it makes Rose wobble— Rose Tyler actually wobbles! He drops his hand to her hip and steadies her as she stretches back over her toes and finds her balance. Then he returns to his new favourite thing to do with his hand, so far. He cups a naked breast as if he's catching raindrops, just as tenderly, just as earnestly. As he begins exploring Rose's textures he wonders how he will ever get enough of her breasts— the smooth rich satin and the delicate raw silk that puckers and pills as his thumb slides over it— how he will ever get enough of the soft melodious sounds his fingers are coaxing from her. He angles their heads more and takes his body a bit off center to open space between them; now he can reach Rose's breast better. He slides his palm against the peak of Rose's firm nipple, barely touching her yet, but her whole body judders and she comes dangerously close to toppling. He curves deeper into the kiss, she digs her fingers into his scalp and side, and he grips her firmly until he's certain she is balanced again— there is no way he is going to let Rose fall off his lips now that he has her here!

Rose Tyler moans and whispers his name. She shivers and sighs for him. She chuckles breathlessly, and does something fantastic with her fingers, inscribing him from the tender spot under his ear to his clavicles and sternum as she tugs the short hairs she's gotten to below his navel. His entire body responds, jerking Rose off the floor momentarily, and he SHOUTS the physical pleasure throughout all of time and every dimension the TARDIS touches!!!. . . although the shout comes out more a muffled wail because Rose has control of the kiss and right now she is dragging her teeth around his lip. She plants her lips against his; her tongue claims the inside of his mouth again, moves determinedly, and prods his cheek at the right edge of his mouth. Ah. Rose Tyler is giving him a very wicked version of the smile he never can resist. And she’s using enough pressure to make certain he knows it. He decides he loves it when Rose Tyler has taken control.

They give up tormenting each other to explore. The Doctor's hand glides and strokes and smooths down Rose's spine and settles just inside her denims. The pads of his fingers graze her warm skin and Rose moans into his mouth. His fingers insinuate themselves further, meeting her lacy boyshorts where the curve of her lower back becomes the arc of her bum. The taut muscles leave him little to knead or pinch, but he enjoys himself with the feel of her arse on his palm, and to be honest the fact of her arse in his palm. Rose's study of his topology has been just as productive; she's eliciting the most fantastic sensations in him everywhere. Everywhere. He rocks his lower body forward and nudges her belly lightly, knowing that in his current state he has just given Rose a suggestion of where he'd like this to end up.

Rose has been settling some questions about the Doctor, such as: How can someone so gangly and lean carry her three miles in a snowstorm? Like his biceps, his slim torso entices many questions but is being mysterious. She could remove his jumper to search more thoroughly —  tasting him immediately comes to mind —  but she won't do anything that could force the Doctor's hand off her bum, or lose his lips, or stop the deep and happy noises he's breathing into the kiss. Something that's been driving her bonkers since he leaned back against the wall and smirked as she ran into the TARDIS after "It also travels in time" is whether the tiny hairs under his navel, visible when his jumper rucks up, feel the same as the velvety hairs at the nape of his neck? Not quite, she now knows, but she's also learned that skating her fingers through either patch of short hairs and then tugging at them lightly gets the Doctor's immediate and full attention. She's also been not quite fixated with the question of how far does that trail of soft short hairs go, where does it end, and what all have his denims and jacket been hiding. That's three questions, isn't it, although the Doctor has been very nicely answering number three. Now it's universe-imploding important to add one more question, since this is finally begun: What other happy sounds can she coax out of the Doctor?  Her tongue dances on the inside flesh of his lips; she finds that sensitive spot on his palate again and uses what she'd learned, and what his reactions are teaching her now, to build his pleasure. Her body moves against him mimicking her tongue's eager taking of his palate, and she files away every little twitch of response for next time. His fingers dig into her and he groans, a deep rumble through his chest and the back of his throat like a lion purring, and Rose is thrilled beyond speech.

The Doctor's presence as he moves against Rose is restless now and irresistible, and her body responds with a grind and roll against his firm heat. His answer is to hoist her up off the floor and grind her against him soundly— controlled and compelling and so close. His tongue stops dancing with hers and his lips move over hers smoothly. He's grinning that knowing I'm so impressive grin that Rose loves—  she can feel every millimeter of it as clearly as she's just felt every centimeter of him. She giggles, wondering if he'll stop kissing her to brag. His chuckles swallow her giggles; clearly he understands what she is thinking. He eases her down; not back on the floor, though, but so she's standing on the tops of his feet. The Doctor kisses the top of her her head, a long sweet kiss. Then he moves, and Rose loses the delicious press of his lips into her hair and his erection into her flesh.

Wth a shift of weight the Doctor eases Rose off his feet, presses his leg between hers, and makes her straddle his thigh. Her heat radiates through the denim into him, and the fire she's kindled races throughout him. He secures one of her legs against his side; she wraps the other around him, pressing her heel into his bum as he obliterates all space between them and finds his balance. She holds him and gives herself up to his fancy as he leans them forward over his leg. The more the Doctor tilts them the louder Rose squeals and giggles into his mouth and, then, the more Rose's giggles and squeals begin to sound like something else entirely. With one more small adjustment their bodies are perfectly aligned: mouth to mouth, breast to breast, heat to heat. Want to want, they've finally realized, or maybe they've known all along but hadn't yet figured out the adjustment.

Their bodies press together a moment more, grinding, rocking as their mouths and tongues fuel each other with no patience for finesse. Then the Doctor moves them back up and Rose circles her legs around him. He walks them to his rooms. They haven't for even one second broken their kiss.