She was his TA. He was the professor she saw five, six, sometimes seven days out of the week.
She could not fancy him like this.
“Don’t forget to read chapter 7 tonight, and come back prepared to talk about the mating habits of mollusks.” At the Doctor’s closing words and parting grin, the class began to gather paperwork and assorted tech before filing out of the classroom. Rose stood from her chair in the corner, adding the stack of papers from his desk to the stack she already carried.
By the time the Doctor finished erasing the whiteboard--he preferred it to the electronic alternative--the class was empty save for the two of them. Rose let herself drink him in, the picture he presented in his leather jacket and dark jeans, and averted her eyes just in time for him to turn around.
He smiled when he saw her waiting, not the manic grin he’d presented to the class, but a soft smile, his blue eyes fixed on hers as if everything else had faded away. She took a steadying breath and went through a checklist that she had to pull out with increasing regularity.
He was much too old for her.
He’d never shown any interest in her, not in any way she could be sure wasn’t just her imagination.
He was her professor, the one she worked for, and she didn’t want to lose her position as TA.
He was far too attractive to her, the nose and ears somehow working for him rather than against him, and if she ever touched him, she was sure she wouldn’t be able to stop.
She swallowed, breathing a sigh of relief when he finally broke his gaze, his eyes flickering down to the student papers she clutched to her chest, where he frowned.
She was his TA. He was the professor she saw five, six, sometimes seven days out of the week.
He had to find a way to get her out of his head.
That way was not staring at her chest, at the fact that it seemed to rise and fall just a little bit too quickly as she breathed. He frowned, forcing himself to look only at the papers that had drawn his attention there in the first place.
“Those all for my classes?” She was just one person--albeit, one fantastic, capable person--and that stack of papers was large enough to keep even himself up through the night if he wanted to get them finished on time, and he knew Rose’s class schedule wouldn’t give her a chance to read through them the following day.
Rose looked at the papers like she’d never seen them, blinking a few times before her eyes cleared and she nodded at him. “Yeah. For all four of your classes, though, not just this one. Don’t usually bring work from other classes, cause I like listening, but I didn’t want to fall behind.” She turned a shade of pink that should have clashed with her almost-yellow hair.
“You mean this much is normal for you?” The Doctor knew he sounded thick, like he couldn’t do the math on the number of students he taught, but she’d never seemed to have any trouble with what he asked of her, and here she’d been keeping up with an impossible amount of work while completing her own advanced degree.
“Well, yeah, but I took your classes before I applied for teaching assistant. I knew what I was getting myself into.” She smiled at him then, that smile that showed her tongue between her teeth, and he fought to keep his breathing steady. “Besides, it’s worth it to sit through your classes again. Doesn’t matter what you talk about, if it’s biology or astronomy or relativity. Makes me feel like I’m there, not stuck in this box of a classroom, you know?”
With one last, deep breath, the Doctor nodded and reached for the papers, trying to ignore her audible intake of breath as his hand caressed hers in the process.
She was too young for him.
She couldn’t possibly be interested in him.
She wouldn’t want to risk her job, not when it worked so well with her schedule, just to be seen with an old man.
She was beautiful, inside and out, and if he touched her in the ways he often wanted to, he’d never be able to stop.
He cursed himself silently as his resolve crumbled while she stood there, watching him with admiration that he knew was reflected in his own eyes, along with a curiosity about what he was doing, curiosity that made him want to show her all of time and space.
“Come on,” he said, reaching for her hand despite knowing how terrible an idea it was, holding on only until they reached the door of the classroom. “Let’s go to my office. I’ll help you get through these tonight.”
His hand was cooler than she’d expected as it wrapped around hers, and she pushed down the answering wave of heat supplied by her over-eager body, as well as the surge of disappointment when he let go, despite knowing that they’d both be in for it if they walked to his office holding hands.
He hadn’t been holding her hand anyway, she told herself. Not really. He was just guiding her in the direction they were headed. That was all.
“I’ve got to finish preparing the lecture for Thursday’s class before I can help,” he said, unlocking his office door and holding it open for her, “but there’s plenty of room on my desk for both of us to work.”
Rose nodded, sure her face was completely red after where her thoughts had immediately gone. She almost missed his hesitation before he closed the office door.
“That alright?” he asked as it clicked shut. “Get more done with the door shut, me.”
“S’fine.” She couldn’t quite meet his eye, not while trying to get images out of her head of the two of them on his massive desk.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t been in his office before, both as student and as TA. But today, she couldn’t quite shake her attraction to him, could almost bring herself to hope it was returned, that some of the fantasies that had fueled her extracurricular shower activities might come to life.
She was particularly fond of the one where he took her bent over his desk.
She blew out a breath, pulling the extra chair closer to the desk across from where he was already situated.
You can do this, Rose. She reached for the stack of papers he’d set so neatly on her side, spared a second to give him a quick smile, then got to work, trying her best to shut out his presence entirely.
You can do this. You have three separate doctorates. You can make it through an evening with one young woman.
One beautiful young woman who hadn’t seemed repulsed when he’d taken her hand, who’d blushed tellingly at the sight of his desk, putting innumerable inappropriate thoughts into his brain. One beautiful woman whose resourcefulness and perspective he’d admired for years.
He focused his thoughts back on the lecture in front of him, away from the sight of her leaning slightly forward over his desk while she worked, away from the sight that was just a little too close to the fantasy he’d repeatedly and firmly forbidden himself from having.
A fantasy he’d found himself succumbing to anyway as he repeatedly and firmly stroked his hard cock.
He fought a groan, reciting the periodic table of elements until he could see the computer monitor in front of him again. He quickly went through his lecture, tweaking the one he’d used the semester before. He didn’t always read from his notes, anyway, depending on the class and the level of passion from the students. Rose wasn’t present in his Thursday class, though, since she had a class of her own to attend at that time, so he was typically a bit more thorough in preparing the lecture notes, knowing he wouldn’t have her watching him, lending her silent support and enthusiasm.
Excitement and dread warred within him as he finished. Why had he offered to help her, and here, in his small office that was mostly taken up by the desk, that had an opaque window and a lock on the door?
He had to remember that she didn’t want him that way. To tell himself that she hadn’t been disappointed when he’d let go of her hand, that something else had made her hesitate as she looked at his desk.
Reluctance, maybe, at being stuck for hours with a dirty old man like himself.
Sobering thoughts firmly in mind, he looked over at her to find her watching him contemplatively, the back of her pen pressing into her lips and a spark in her eyes.
Concentrating was impossible with the Doctor on the other side of the desk. Even when she managed to keep her eyes off him, she was surrounded by his scent, the scent of wood and books and leather and some indefinable spice. She was sure she was imagining it, that it was just her, but after about 30 minutes, the tension was impossible to ignore.
She looked up at him while nibbling the end of her pen. He did look a bit tense, typing away at his computer, his shoulders tight. She felt her mouth go dry as she pictured digging her fingers into the tight muscles of his shoulders while he thrust into her repeatedly.
Of course, he chose that moment to look over at her. She froze, watching him take in her expression, which had to be primarily one of lust, watching his gaze travel from her face to the rise and fall of her chest before settling once more on her eyes. His eyes darkened, pupils dilating. His voice was rough when he spoke.
“I’ll take some of those papers now.”
Rose handed him half the remaining stack, her breath catching when their hands met more deliberately this time, the Doctor’s eyes still firmly on hers. He seemed to see something there that caught his attention, and he set his portion of the work down in front of him without looking at it.
“Have you got a boyfriend, Rose? Someone who’s waiting for you at home?”
She took a beat, trying to decide how to answer, whether to take a chance that could backfire spectacularly.
“No boyfriend. Live with my mum, but she doesn’t expect me home on Tuesdays until after she’s asleep.” Another beat. “Even though I’ve told her we’re not like that, she’s sure me and you are shagging, and that’s why I’m late every week.”
He stopped breathing. Oh god, she’d said the wrong thing and now he was gonna fire her or kick her out and now he was standing and coming over to her side of the desk and was he going to force her to leave right this second and--
Her thoughts slowed and her heart raced when he reached for her hand, pulling her to stand in front of him. He didn’t let go as he studied her.
“Maybe we should be. Shagging, that is.”
His eyes were still dark, the icy blue of his irises overwhelmed by what her body and mind were telling her was arousal. This had to be her imagination, though. There was no way the professor she’d admired for so long was standing in front of her, telling her they should do this.
Except that it seemed like he was.
He lifted his free hand to cup her cheek, shuffling closer to her, and she could hardly breathe.
“Do you want this, Rose?” His voice was low, careful. Charged.
“We can’t.” Hers was quiet, uncertain. Needy.
“That’s not what I asked.” His thumb was rubbing gentle circles along her cheek, and her thumb was tracing a path along his hand, and it was already almost too much and they hadn’t even done anything. Yet.
She swallowed, nodding at him without having to think about her answer. “Yeah.”
He waited a moment, then another, watching her for long enough that she felt a slight swell of panic before he finally leaned in and kissed her.
His lips were soft against hers as they tasted, tested, teased. She slipped her hand behind his neck, trying to pull him closer, but he pulled away, panting with his forehead resting against hers before turning away entirely and heading for the door.
He wasn’t leaving, was he? Not after a kiss like that, he wouldn’t…
She heard the click of the lock and licked her lips as he turned back toward her, feeling herself grow wet at the implications, at the intent expression on his face.
This was the time to change his mind, if he was going to, he thought as he reached for the door handle. He could leave, put this behind them, find a way to work with her platonically or get her transferred to a different professor in the department so she wouldn’t have to lose her position. Or he could accept what she was offering, could finally give in to what he’d wanted but hadn’t let himself hope for.
He locked the door.
Turning back to Rose, he saw she looked flushed and disheveled, her eyes dark, her lips soft and open. He’d crossed the tiny room before he’d had a chance to think about it, putting one hand on her waist and one back on her cheek, dipping his head back to hers.
They tasted, caressed, lips and tongues moving against each other until the pressure of her fingers against the back of his neck, pulling him toward her, forced him to realize the angle couldn’t be comfortable for her. He tossed the papers out of the way, ignoring the sound as a handful of them skittered to the floor, and shoved her chair aside before lifting her to the desk and fitting himself between her legs.
Her knees closed around his hips when he deepened the kiss, reveling in the new angle, in the fact that her hands were now free to explore and that she’d immediately seized the opportunity to run them over his ass and then under his shirt and up along his spine until she could press her fingers into the muscle of his upper back. He groaned into her mouth when she ran them back down again, tugging him forward so his erection came flush with her core.
Her breath was erratic when she broke their kiss, her words stilted.
“Clothes, Doctor. Too many of them.”
He heard himself make a sound, almost a growl, and he reached for her shirt. He pulled it up and over her head before he kissed her again, undoing her bra without breaking contact. When she maneuvered his jacket off him and his shirt followed, his only objection was that it briefly interrupted his view of Rose Tyler.
She was gorgeous. He’d been right; he’d never get enough of her, not after this. He caressed her breasts carefully, wanting to worship them as they deserved, running light fingers over the sides, underneath them, moving ever-closer to her nipples, almost failing to notice that she’d undone his jeans while he was distracted.
He dipped his mouth to take her taut nipple between his lips, grinning despite himself when he was rewarded by a moan of appreciation.
“Ah, ah, ah.” He let his lips brush against her as he spoke, as her hands tried to grasp his hair. “Know the building’s almost empty, but it isn’t locked. Anyone could walk by.” He straightened, smirking at her. “We need to be quiet.”
He was telling her she needed to be quiet? Him with the moaning and growling? She couldn’t bring herself to be upset with him, not with how he was making her feel, but she wasn’t about to let it go entirely, either. “You should talk,” she retorted, bringing his lips back to hers with one hand behind his neck, the other moving to shove his jeans and boxers down and off his hips.
He rocked against her, her jeans dulling the sensation but still letting her feel that he was probably built similarly there as he was elsewhere: tall, thick, and hard.
“Still too many clothes,” she muttered against his lips, and he made quick work of what remained, unfastening her jeans and pulling them off, along with her soaked knickers, before settling back between her thighs while she sat, naked, on his desk.
This time, when his erection brushed against her, she had to fight back another moan.
“Rose.” His voice was almost a whisper. “You’re so wet.” His hand trailed along her body, slipping between her thighs before moving up to her core. When he ran a finger over her clit, she gasped. When he increased the pressure, adding another finger to rub firm circles over her, she buried her face in the crook of his neck to muffle the sounds she was making.
“I’ve thought about this a lot,” she managed when he kept the speed and pressure steady enough that she was close, so close, but knew she wasn’t going to find release.
“Tell me.” She’d never heard his voice like this, like he was barely hanging on.
“Pictured me and you. Pictured us on this desk.” She gasped again when he finally sped his motions. “Pictured you taking me on it. Against it.” Rose whimpered when he pulled his hand away, and she looked up into eyes that burned into hers.
Biting her lip, she nodded, rubbing her thighs together as he stepped back to give her room. She stood and turned to face the desk. Her toes barely touched the floor by the time she’d leaned forward, her lower arms bracing her against the hard surface.
She felt him caress her ass before he moved his hand to her hip, where he’d be able to get leverage. She hadn’t thought she could get any wetter, any closer to the edge than she’d been a moment ago. He pressed the tip of his erection to her entrance, and she knew she’d been wrong.
“Rose.” The Doctor seemed to be trying to hold back some emotion as he stayed there, unmoving, hand tight enough that she couldn’t push back against him. “Don’t have a condom.”
Thank god she was on the pill.
“Don’t need one.”
At her unhesitating response, the Doctor let go of the last of his reservations and entered her in one long thrust. She was hot, wet, tight around him, and he wasn’t sure which of them moaned more loudly.
They really needed to be quiet, but at that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care in the slightest. After several seconds, he started moving, pulling almost all the way out before returning home. He reached around to play with her breasts.
“This what you pictured, Rose?”
Her response was unintelligible, her walls beginning to clench around him. He couldn’t quite reach her clit with the desk in the way, so he angled her a little higher so that her clit would rub against the rounded edge of his desk with each thrust.
She was a goddess. The curve of her back, the feel of her skin against his hand, how she panted and squirmed as they brought each other closer, her silent and wordless scream as she finally broke apart around him.
He muffled his own cries against her shoulder as he followed her over, thrusting into her again and again until they’d both come down.
He took just a few seconds to catch his breath before he helped her off the desk, pulling her into an embrace, his chin on her head while he rubbed at her reddened elbows.
“That was fantastic,” he whispered. He grinned when she nodded and tried to snuggle against his chest. “Let’s get cleaned up.”
He found an old, clean towel that he kept around in case of emergencies, and he watched her clean herself off. He had to remind himself that he probably shouldn’t take her again, not just yet, that just because she was watching him like that while her hand was between her thighs didn’t mean she automatically wanted round two.
He cleaned up afterward while she dressed, then bent to pick up the papers that were strewn on the floor before getting dressed himself. Finished, he found himself standing next to Rose, who was looking up at him with a tongue-touched smile.
“We should probably get to work on grading, yeah?”
He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, breathing her in before going to unlock the door.
“You’re right, we should. Then maybe we could go back to my place, since you said your mother doesn’t expect you home anyway?” It came out more uncertain than he’d aimed for; after all, maybe she’d just had some student/teacher fantasy he’d helped fulfill, and now she’d be done with him. He didn’t think that was the case, not with Rose, but still--
“Sounds lovely, Doctor.”