Doctor Who Worth It

**Worth It**

**A/N: Picture prompt from the photo on the "cover" of this story. Enjoy!**

She couldn't stop thinking about him, about his last words, the last time she'd seen him. "When you see me again, don't say a word." It had sounded like a fun game at first. She had thought it would only be a few minutes, maybe a few hours of waiting.

It had been three days. Three days was an eternity. Three days was long enough to make her wonder if when she finally _did _see him, it would be all out of order again, if he would even remember his insinuated promises. That had happened a number of times so far - he'd show up with no memory of the last time he'd been there - and she'd begun to realize the importance of that diary he'd given her. It wasn't just a kind gesture, a gift; it was a tool to keep track of the order they met in.

She was pretty sure, every time he showed up, that he'd met her far more times than she'd met him. In fact, she was positive. He knew what to expect, even though he remained an enigma to her. He knew the way she thought, the way she would react. He knew how to make her think. He knew how to turn her on...

Ever since that night he'd taken her to Caporia, to that party with all of its grinding, half dressed patrons that he never so much as tried to mingle with, she had been wondering. He'd hardly said a word, never given her an explanation. Why there? Why visit a planet soaked with sex and pheromones if he had no interest in engaging? And he didn't. She'd left the party ready to throw him on the floor of the Tardis and rip his clothes off. He'd left babbling about the curiosities of human mating rituals, seemingly oblivious to the heat between her legs and the stunned, confused look on her face. He'd dropped her off at her doorstep with a modest goodnight kiss and those simple words. "When you see me again, don't say a word."

She'd realized then that it was a game. One of those teasing games he did, where he wound her up tighter than a spring and then made her wait until he was damn good and ready to give her what she wanted. She hadn't quite determined how she felt about these games yet. On the one hand, he drove her crazy. With that bloody time machine, he could step away and come back in five minutes... and she would have been waiting for him for hours. Or, in this case, three days. It wasn't fair. And on the other hand, every time he did this, every time he asked her if it was worth it - in the glowing, satisfied aftermath of an amazing orgasm - she always said yes.

This time would be worth it, too. She knew it would. That thought had put her to sleep that first night, fully expecting him to wake her up with his hands and mouth all over her, reminding her that she had already agreed to say nothing at all, to just lie still and passive and let him work her over. The thought of what he might have planned that could be even better - catching her off guard between classes and pulling her into an empty stairwell where enforced silence was the only hope they had of not getting caught, for instance - had gotten her out of bed the next morning. Her expectations kept her looking around every corner, over her shoulder, to the doors of her classrooms every time they opened. Waiting for him kept her thinking about his mouth and how sensual it was, what it would feel like to kiss him. Those deep, timeless eyes and soft hands. He was hauntingly beautiful and dangerous... and so harmless to look at.

This was ridiculous, she'd decided after the second day. Of course, the whole relationship she had with him was ridiculous. He was practically a stranger; she didn't even know his name. She'd seen him a dozen times, when he showed up at random intervals, and more than half of those times, they'd ended up in bed. He'd toyed with her, teased her, and taunted her with the fact that one day, she would know as much about him as he did about her. But that day wouldn't be today. Today, he knew her intimately and she knew him barely at all. And today, the mere thought of him made her want to stock up on batteries and never leave her bedroom until he finally showed.

Today was the worst. Today was unlike anything she'd ever felt. She didn't have time for things like relationships while trying to finish her Master's Thesis. But the library had been a lost cause. All she could think about as she sat there staring blankly at the pages of books she had no interest in reading was his tongue, pressing and licking at her pulse points. His long, slender fingers between her thighs, slipping into her heat. She'd squirmed and shifted and tried to find a position that didn't ache so much. She'd failed. In her frustration, she'd retreated to the relative safety of a bathroom stall and let her fantasies run wild for a few minutes before she found release on her own fingers. It didn't help. The moment she'd come down, she was wanting him again. It had brought her to tears before she'd finally given up, packed her books, came home.

This wasn't quite natural; wasn't quite _her_. No one had ever had such a thrall over her before. She was the one in control, always. And even if her fascination with him could be explained, the sheer chemical overload in her brain was unnatural. She wasn't even rational, she'd realized as she'd paused on her front porch to envision him fucking her against the door, in plain view of everyone. It was as if she'd been drugged, converted from a perfectly sensible woman to a mindless animal in heat. The thought had frightened her, and she'd locked herself in her apartment for most of the day until the effects of whatever she was experiencing - and God only knew what that could be - had worn off.

But they didn't wear off. And they weren't satisfied. She'd spent the evening pacing her living room, the hallway, the kitchen - avoiding the bedroom - looking for a distraction. But all she ever found was new thoughts of what it would feel like to fuck him. What the hell was wrong with her?

Finally, as the sun set, she realized she had to get out of her apartment. It was unnatural to feel _this _turned on for absolutely no reason whatsoever, and she needed an outlet. All this thinking about him - his hands, his tongue, his cool breath on the inside of her thighs - was driving her insane. A change of scenery would do her a world of good. And if he showed up before she got back, well, he'd just have to wait. She smirked to herself at the potential for irony as she grabbed her purse and left her jacket, heading to the door in the halter top and skirt she normally wouldn't have worn out of the house without a damn good reason. No matter. She would likely match all of the university students heading out to party tonight in the clubs.

Deciding to take the subway instead of a cab - there were more distractions on the subway - she turned the corner and walked down the stairwell that led to the underground station. Her eyes were still scanning for that obnoxious blue box; she couldn't help it. But there was nothing on the street, and nothing on the subway platforms. Once she was on the train - too full for comfort but that was to be expected on a Friday evening - she faced the window as she held the rail overhead, scanning every platform at every stop. She had to shake herself free of the thought that she might actually find his Tardis this way. After all, how would he even find her anywhere but in her own home? And why?

Distraction.

She sighed as she leaned her head forward on her arm and tried to gather her thoughts, tried to focus on one of the distractions around her. Laughter and languages, many of which she could identify and a few she had mastered. Perfume and pheromones. And his long, hard cock sliding deeply in and out of -

Stop!

She wasn't even entirely sure where she was going. For a drink, maybe. She frowned at that thought. Maybe coffee would be better. It was probably a bad idea to wander into a pub when she was still feeling so keyed up. There was no telling what she would be capable of with a few drinks in her...

She saw him out of the corner of her eye. Not on the platform, but inside the car itself as the crowd shifted to allow a new batch of people to enter. Gasping in surprise, she looked away quickly, then frowned. Why should she look away? She turned to look straight at the spot where she'd thought he was. _Thought _he was, because he didn't appear to be there now. Of course, too many people were in the way for her to see that far, clear to the other side of the car.

Was she hallucinating now? She shook her head as she looked out the window again and tried to convince herself that there was a perfectly logical explanation for all of this. She couldn't have possibly seen him there. But tricked by the mere thought that she might have done, her core was aching. Rubbing and twisting her thighs together wasn't helping. She stepped closer to the pole beside her and wished like hell that there weren't so many people in this car. What was wrong with her? She couldn't even think straight.

Coffee sounded great. Black coffee. Strong... dark... his eyes staring down at her as he closed his hands around her wrists and pinned her to the bed...

A hand slid along the metal bar beside hers. A familiar hand. She gasped and turned away from him and closed her eyes. This wasn't possible. It wasn't him. She dared a glance out of the corner of her eye at the reflection in the window, over the heads of the people sitting and talking and laughing in the chairs in front of her. No bow tie. No tweed jacket. Clearly not him. She chewed her lip as the stranger stepped closer, directly behind her.

She fought the urge to grind against him, barely managed to remind herself that she would probably be arrested for doing so. But the man's scent was overwhelming. Cool autumn air, chocolate mint, and the distinct, complex scent of time that lingered on his skin. She drew it in deeply, eyes sliding closed. She knew that scent, and it made her blood race. But she didn't dare turn around and look at him for fear that the illusion would vanish.

She felt his breath - much cooler than a human's - on her shoulder. She heard him inhale deeply. She didn't breathe, gripping the bar above her with white knuckles, every muscle in her body tight. And finally, he whispered, "Did you know that the pheromones released by the Caporians are the most powerful human aphrodisiac in the known universe?"

Her head was swimming. He stood silently behind her, his hand inches from hers on the support bar, their bodies a hairsbreadth away from touching though the heat from his chest surrounded her.

"It takes a full seventy-two hours for the effects to be fully felt. And then they might last for hours or even days."

She swallowed hard. "You could've warned -"

"Shh..." His breath on her ear made her shiver. "Not a word, remember?"

As the crowded train came to a stop, she glanced over her shoulder at him - God help her; it was definitely him. He raised a brow, as if waiting for her to make a move, and she glared briefly at him before ducking under his arm and heading for the door, stepping out onto the platform.

She didn't have to look back to know he was following her. She could feel his eyes on her, undressing her. No... maybe that was just her own mind playing tricks on her again. She glanced back and saw him a few paces behind her. He was following. Up the steps and down the street. She wasn't even entirely sure where she was, much less where she was going. But she was painfully aware of every step on the pavement - hers and his. Every couple of steps, she glanced back. He never walked any faster, never broke a sweat or appeared to be in any rush. He simply sauntered behind her. And after only a block or two, her frustration with him for neglecting to tell her that he was taking her somewhere for the express purpose of drugging her was waning. Instead, all she could think about was the fact that it was finally him, and he was finally here.

There was an alley just a few short steps away. She slowed her step as she looked around the mostly-empty street, then glanced back at him. He cocked his eyebrow, falling into step behind her as she turned and headed for the shadowed gap between the buildings. As she turned the corner and made her way further in, she looked over her shoulder at him, tilting her head, inviting. His eyes moved noticeably from her sandals to her messy pony tail to the alleyway she was headed toward.

He didn't immediately follow her into the shadows. Not deterred, she turned and walked backwards, daring him silently to come with her. But he stood still on the street, just watching her as she stepped further into the shadows, keeping her eyes trained on him. There was an alarm going off in her head somewhere that this was probably a bad idea for more reasons than one. But she couldn't think about that. Her mind was too busy zeroing in on his eyes as he finally took a few steps closer to her.

She backed up against a wall, waiting for him to be close enough to touch her. But he stopped a few feet away and leaned against the opposite brick wall, slipping his hands into his pockets. Licking her lips to bring moisture back to her mouth, she studied him silently. He looked like a boy, dressed in those black slacks, white shirt, tan coat. Funny how the lack of tweed and bowties made him appear so much younger than he was. Of course, if she was going to compare looks to age, he was quite an enigma simply for the fact that he was thirteen hundred years old and didn't have a single grey hair. The thought made her smirk to herself. There was no reason to believe that he was anything but a twenty-something, attractive human male, watching her with a look that was somewhere between worried, curious, and amused, with perhaps a dash of chastisement at her choice of venue.

But he didn't speak. He stood there, still and silent, as if waiting for her to do something. She couldn't imagine what he wanted her to do. Certainly not to speak. Not that she could speak anyways... Her chest was tightening, breath coming shallower as she chewed her bottom lip, traced the edge of her halter top with the tips of her fingers, enticing him. He smiled, but didn't move closer. He just watched her as her hand drifted up along the edge of her top, behind her neck.

She pulled the tie, and the halter top fell loosely around her breasts, then down further to dangle at her waist as she finished untangling the strings. He remained perfectly still, his eyes darting to her breasts for just a moment before they moved to her lips and then her eyes again. Still, he was waiting. And her patience was failing. Her body was on fire... She tilted her head back as her hands drifted to the hem of her skirt and started tugging upwards, slowly exposing more of her thighs and finally her panties. Still he watched. Still he did nothing. Frustrated, she wet her lips, closed her eyes, and slipped one hand down the front of her panties. She bit back a moan as a finger penetrated her folds. It was close to what she needed. But it still wasn't enough.

She gasped when his hands finally touched her, and moaned, low in her throat as she ground on her fingers. The tips of his fingers were tracing her collar bone, drifting down to her breasts, between them, beneath them. She arched her back, waiting for his touch to land on her nipples. But he grazed past them, down her stomach, until he'd found the straps to her halter. Her hand stopped its movement between her legs as he slowly tied her shirt back together, careful not to catch her hair in the knot.

Her chest tightened when he stepped away from her. Suddenly uncomfortable - had she crossed a line somewhere? - but no less desperate to feel his hands on her, she wasn't sure what to do. What did he want her to do? There was no disapproval in his eyes, but she had been hoping he'd work to get the clothes _off_, not _on_.

As she adjusted her clothing nervously, she looked anywhere but at him. Even if she hadn't been operating under her promise of silence, she wouldn't have had a thing to say. But then his fingers lifted her chin, drawing her eyes to his. Then he smirked at her, touched her lips with his index finger, and tipped his head slightly as he stepped back, wordlessly inviting her to follow. She felt a smile creep across her face as she licked her lips and slowly followed after him.

***X*X*X***

The Doctor's Tardis was the most welcome sight she'd had the pleasure to behold in a very long time. He held the door open for her as she walked through, and she paused just inside to drink in the sight of his beautiful ship. She was growing more and more familiar with it, but its beauty was still not so common as to make her unappreciative.

She followed him through the console room, up the steps and to the open archway that led to an endless hallway. Her heart beat faster as he passed a few doors, then stopped and pressed his hand against the door to his room. It slid open at his touch, and she drew in a deep, slow breath as she stepped in behind him. She wasn't expecting the sight before her. It was incredibly clean, modern in design with chrome furniture and an enormous, high mattress between the simple head and footboard of his bed. The low, orange glow from the walls gave it a sense of warmth, even though she couldn't really identify specifically where the lights were.

Before she could catalog every bit of furniture and decorating choice in the room, he'd gently grabbed her by the arms and turned her to face him. His ageless eyes seemed to darken as they lowered to her mouth, and she felt the fire start again in her womb. Chest heaving with the heavy breaths she drew, her eyes slid closed as one of his warm, soft hands traced her cheek and slowly slid back into her hair. She shivered involuntarily at his touch, placing her palms on his chest as he tilted her head and dragged the tip of his nose along her neck.  
The hand he'd slid behind her held her flush against him as the fingers of the other rubbed the base of her neck, just above the tie of her halter top. He loosened it a moment later, and she drew in a breath as her nipples hardened in the cool air. Rubbing the small of her back, he pressed his forehead against hers and shared her labored breaths for a few long, tantalizing moments. Her hand were burning to touch him, and she pushed his coat off of his shoulders without thought, letting it fall on the floor before slowly working her fingers down the center of his shirt. She kept her eyes on her task as she took a step forward, pushing him back, guiding him towards the bed, then smiled as she set her hands on his shoulders and pushed him down on the edge of it, climbing up beside him to straddle his hips.

She could hear him breathing rapidly and felt that familiar sense of confidence returning as she unzipped his black slacks and tugged them down his legs. Kneeling on the floor at his feet, she felt anything but subservience. She watched him with a smile as she wrapped one hand around his half-hard cock and licked the tip. He inhaled sharply and groaned, sliding a hand into her thick curls as she took him in her mouth and slid down as far as she could.

She didn't linger. He didn't need her to do. He was fully erect in seconds, pulsing irregularly against her tongue as his hand tangled in her hair. His moans made her quiver, and she rubbed her thighs together uncomfortably as she felt her fluids seep from her body. Had she ever wanted anything like she wanted him inside of her right now? His taste, his scent, the feel of his hard length against her soft lips... every bit of it reminded her of just how badly she needed him.

Suddenly, his hands were under her arms, lifting her into his lap. Staring up at her, he reached beneath her skirt and pulled off her panties, settling her legs on either side of his once they were off. Following her instinct more than any plan she might have otherwise possessed, she buried her face in his neck, kissing and biting him there as she reached for his cock again. His hands on her cheeks tipped her head back, pulled her mouth to his, held her in place as he kissed her hard. She felt a surge of electricity travel along her nerves from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. The way he kissed - as if he might never have another chance, as if the world was going to end at any moment - was enough to take her breath away on a _normal _day. Now it made her positively writhe.

Dizzy with need, well enough able to feel the juices dripping down the insides of her thighs, she wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing her eyes shut tight and gasping into his mouth as she felt his hand exploring between her legs. He chuckled softly as he smoothed his fingers down, halfway to her knees, feeling for himself just how ready for him she was. How ready she had been for quite some time now...

He turned suddenly, and she lost her balance with a cry of surprise, falling back onto the bed. He was over her even before the springs stopped bouncing under her weight. He settled himself between her thighs, parting them wider with his own. His hands moved to her top and he yanked it down, closing his hands over both of her breasts. She moaned, arching up towards his touch, writhing as he pinched both nipples. She was so (unexpectedly) excited by the mix of pleasure and pain, she could hardly breathe. Panting, pushing her hips up toward him, she dragged her nails across his shoulders as he sucked one nipple into his mouth, then the other, pulling with his teeth. A deep moan escaped her, followed by a sharp cry as he took hold of her hips and thrust inside of her in one solid movement.

She almost screamed in pleasure as she adjusted to the full feeling of him inside of her. His mouth hovered over hers, his breath warming as his body temperature climbed to her norm. She was already on fire. She could feel the sweat breaking out across her forehead, gathering at the nape of her neck. He fit inside of her perfectly, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him to thrust harder, deeper. For the first time in days, she felt something other than sheer desperation. It was a euphoric feeling, deep and swirling as his cock moved expertly inside her, his lean muscles rippling beneath her hands. Who would've thought he _had _so many muscles in that thin, lanky frame...

She placed her hands on his chest and pushed, nails digging into flesh. He was too close, too intense, and she was afraid she might spontaneously combust. She moaned desperately when he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, twisting his hips hard as he rubbed against that spot that made her gasp. She was paralyzed, eyes wide, legs splayed open as they fell to either side and she dug her heels into the mattress. With each thrust of his cock into her depths, she was more and more disconnected from reality. There was only pleasure and passion and heat here. There was only this building intensity that took her thoughts away and made her wild with lust.

He rolled suddenly, pulling her on top of him, and she blinked in surprise as she tried to find his rhythm again. Bracing herself with her hands on his chest, she found the angle she was looking for as his hands bunched up her skirt around her waist. Her eyes rolled back as she felt her body tighten, and she tossed her head back as she curled her fingers, nails biting into his chest. Pleasure. Passion. Heat... Her arms gave out and she collapsed onto his chest, kissing his neck, moving her hands all over him. She wanted to touch him everywhere, wanted to claim every inch of his body, wanted to be closer. And she wanted him deeper inside of her, touching and claiming her.

She felt the dizziness set in. One of his arms wrapped around her waist to steady her while the other gripped her thigh. He thrust upwards, bending his knees to drive into her deeper. The bed was shaking. Her head was spinning. Her body was tightening. And when his lips made contact with hers, she came with a desperate scream.

He urged her on, murmuring incoherently against her lips as her body jerked above his. The world faded out of focus in the waves of pleasure washed over her, and she was only vaguely aware of his violent thrusts upward, lifting her from the bed. He groaned through his teeth as he pressed up once more and writhed, and she could feel him pulse against her walls, releasing inside of her.

She might have lost consciousness. She could've stopped breathing in that moment and she probably wouldn't have noticed. There was nothing but him, and the ecstasy he filled her with. She lay on top of him, her breathing ragged and her body limp, sighing as his hands softly stroked the back of her neck and across her shoulders. She couldn't lift her head. She couldn't speak. It was all she could do to breathe, and to smile as she kept her face buried in his throat, drinking in his scent, tasting the salt on his skin.

"Worth it?" he whispered, fingers lightly caressing from the small of her back all the way up along her spine.

She smiled as she nuzzled into him, knowing full well that he knew her answer before he'd even asked the question. "You are so damn cocky, you know that?"

He chuckled quietly and dropped his head to kiss the top of her head again. "I'll take that as a yes."


End file.
