FIC: Rules (2/3)
Name: Rules
ating: NC-17 like whoaaaaaa!
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Eleven/Amy
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for the start of 5x06: The Vampires of Venice.
Summary: The continuation.
Disclaimer: I don’t own it, sadly. Although, I do think Mr Moffat is doing a wonderful job!
Author’s Note: Yes, there will be a part three, because Sophie is demonstrating that she is completely incapable of keeping things one-shotted. Let's all laugh at her now. Yes, I'm talking third person. Don't judge me.
Beta: skullgirl013.
Part two, as promised. Pornorific. <3 Comments will be replied to once I'm conscious again. Which may be tomorrow or may be some time next month. Part three SHOULD come sometime after the next episode of Doctor Who =)
~Part 1~
Part Two
When he steps into his bedroom ten minutes later, the Doctor finds Amy still wearing her red shirt and lying on the bed, head resting on her elbow, arm bent, with her eyes closed. For a moment, he thinks she’s asleep, and he considers leaving, gathering up his clothes in the console room and retreating into the library, or maybe the music room, to ask himself what the fucking hell he was thinking.
And then her eyelids flicker open and she looks up at him with her big green eyes, analysing him from across the room, smiles and says, “You took too long.”
He gives her an apologetic smile, brain deciding to take a leave of absence and abandon him alone in a room with his cock and a mostly naked girl on a bed, and says, “Yeah, well...” He scratches his neck. “My shoelaces got tangled up in my belt loops and my braces. It was a big knotted mess of...” He pauses, trying to find a word, and finally gives up and says, “...knots.”
Amy lifts herself up onto her knees, crawls to the end of the bed and, still resting on her knees, looks up at the Doctor and says, “I really don’t care.” She rocks forwards on her knees, top riding up her slender thighs, leans up and presses her lips surprisingly chastely to his.
He sighs a happy little sigh into the kiss, hands going to her waist and sliding across the soft red fabric of her top. It takes him only a second to work out where he’s going next as he slides his fingers under the hem of her top and up, hands drifting over the smooth skin of her thighs and hips and up over her stomach. She deepens the kiss, sliding her slender fingers into his hair and cupping the back of his head, pulling him in, flicking her tongue over his lips until they part.
The top moves slowly up, his fingers pulling the hem up its path, up over the delicate swell of the sides of her breasts until it’s up by her armpits with nowhere to go without breaking the kiss.
Amy moves away, giving him a tiny smile that tells him she knows as well as he does that sacrificing this kiss now will bring them more fun later. She lifts her arms up into the air and, with a flourish, the Doctor lifts her top up over her arms and head, slinging it across the room.
He wraps his arms around Amy’s waist, pulling her against him so that the soft, warm skin of her stomach presses, flush, against the hard muscles of his abdomen. She gasps up at him, skin on skin sending shocks of arousal through her body, and wraps her arms around his chest, fingers reaching up towards his shoulder blades, nails skimming across his flesh.
The Doctor leans down, burying his face in her neck, planting hard and soft kisses across the skin he finds there, growing taut as she leans her head to one side, exposing more of her neck to his attentions.
“Doctor,” she breathes, fingers playing with the short hairs on the back of his neck, hand encouraging him to come closer to her neck, which he sucks on until she’s positive it’ll bruise. Then he lifts his head and kisses her again, a sloppy kiss this time, all heat and desire, tongue thrusting into her mouth and demanding so much and so little from her all at the same time.
She slides her hand down his back, over his middle and over his cool skin and then down, over his ass and around until she can wrap her fingers around his cock, taking it firmly into her hand and running the tips of her fingers down the shaft.
The Doctor makes a choked noise, grabs her wrist and holds it away from him. “Not quite yet,” he tells her. He wraps his arm around her waist and lifts her up to wrap her legs around his waist, then he drops them both down onto the bed, him landing smoothly between her legs, face hovering over hers so he can successfully drop back down for another kiss.
He slides down her body next, hands on her wrists, holding her arms down, as he goes, kissing down her throat and then across her clavicles, using her breathing as a sign of whether he’s touching the right areas with his lips. He kisses down between her breasts and then across to each one, flicking his tongue over each nipple in turn and then sucking gently on them.
Amy throws her head back, exposing her throat as a target once more and he moves back up to suck some more on the exposed flesh until there’s a love bite where his mouth was moments before. Now he’s moving down again, kissing between her breasts once more but not stopping this time, going lower until he’s kissing down her stomach, across her navel and down.
She fists her hand in the sheet, unable to move her arms because he’s still holding her down, and bites on her lower lip as she feels his nose nudge her clit, as though he’s pondering what to do now he’s at his goal.
“Doctor...”
The word snaps him out of his trance and he leans down a little more, swipes his tongue over her clit and keeps his hands firmly on her wrists as a tremor runs through her and she lets out a tiny gasp.
The Doctor looks up at her and gives her an utterly sexual grin. She throws her head back, staring at the ceiling, trying not to come on the spot from that look alone, and lets her nails drag across the sheet beneath her. The Doctor tightens his hands around her wrists, not quite tight enough to hurt but enough to hold her steady, pressed down against the bed and unable to move too much, as he takes her clit into his mouth and sucks. She gasps, turns her right hand over and grabs his, fingers linking together and her nails raking down the back of his hand, scratching his skin, leaving red marks behind.
He drags his tongue down, over her entrance and laps up the moisture he finds there. She bites down on her lower lip, staying silent even as he lets his tongue inch inside and lick with a determined, long stroke of his tongue.
Amy gasps, tightens her grip on his hand as he moves up again to suckle on her clit, hand travelling up to slip a finger into her. She groans, a gentle moaning sound, and pulls her wrist free of his hand, letting her fingers go into his hair and encourage him to move his fingers faster within her, which he does, sliding them in and out in a rhythmic motion, and suck more on her clit, tongue swiping across it between his lips at regular intervals, a second and then third finger slipping inside of her and thrusting, catching her g-spot with every moment and leaving her writhing beneath him.
She looks down, catches him looking up at her, eyes full of desire, and lets out a little cry, fingernails digging into the back of his hand until red half-moon shapes appear beneath them, body contracting around his fingers. He puts his free hand on her hips, keeping them from bucking, as he sucks harder on her clit, keeping her going through her orgasm and into what she highly suspects is a second one. Not that her brain is functioning enough to ponder this.
And then he’s rising up, gliding over her body and looking down at her with the kind of burning lust in his eyes that she wants to see every day of her life.
She grabs his face in her hands, pulling him down to kiss her. He tastes of her, of everything he just licked from her, and she licks it all off his lips and tongue, fingers in his hair pulling him in as close to her as she can.
“We’re not done yet,” she whispers into his mouth, eyes opening to stare into his as she puts a hand on his shoulder and pushes him onto his back.
He rolls backwards, shoulder blades hitting the mattress and she slings a leg over his waist, landing on his hips and staring down at him with both hands on his shoulders.
"What are you planning?” he breathes, as though unable - or perhaps unwilling - to consider what might come next. She grins at him and rolls her own hips against him. He gasps, hands going to her waist and holding her still. “I really hope you’re planning something fast,” he says, with a devilish grin.
She grins back at him, leans down and whispers in his ear, “Oh, I am.”
Then, after a quick nibble on his earlobe for fun, she glides down his neck, biting and kissing the skin she finds there before straightening her back and looking down at him with a determined glint in her eyes, hands on his chest.
She lifts herself up, sliding down onto his cock with one fluid movement and closing her eyes as he fills her, back straight as an arrow, face pointing up towards the ceiling. He watches her, resisting the urge to close his own eyes as the sensation of being inside her once again flows through him. He wants to take so much from her, but instead he just tightens his grip on her hips a little and thrusts upwards.
She makes a tiny gasping sound, in time with the movement, leaning back over his legs, Amy’s hands supporting her on the bed on either side as he pushes up into her again and again. She makes the same tiny gasping sound each time, hair flowing back down her back. He watches her, unable to take his eyes away now, fingers gentle but strong against the soft skin of her hips.
She takes charge after a moment, using the leverage from her hands to rise up and fall in time with his movements, gently, though, and slowly, to make it last longer, no matter how much either of them want to make it rough, fast and desperate. She groans as he slams up into her hard, then slows down again, fingers digging into the mattress and runkling up the pure white sheet beneath them.
The Doctor runs his hand up her back, between her shoulder blades and into her hair, threading a handful through his fingers and cupping the back of her head with his hand, pulling her almost forcefully down to him, sitting up as he does so to kiss her again, bucking his hips all the while. Just before their lips meet for the kiss, he glances down at himself, watching his cock disappear into her body, and groans, eyes closing, biting down on her lower lip as they kiss.
She wraps her arms around his neck, fingers running up into his hair and pulling him in to kiss her, fronts pressing together, her breasts a soft pressure against his chest. He keeps his hips thrusting upwards into her, her bouncing on his lap as he does, letting his arm wrap around her back and pull her ever closer. Her fingers drag up through his hair and she pulls her mouth away from his, instead dropping her face into his neck.
She keeps her head there, face buried in his neck, even as he thrusts harder up into her, harder and faster and more determinedly, his eyes tight shut, teeth biting down hard on his lower lip, fingers digging into her back, between her shoulder blades. He’s moving inside of her, unable to stop or slow down now, no matter how much he wants to. Not that he wants to. No, he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to stop moving.
He doesn’t stop, carries on thrusting into her even as her inner walls start to move around him, her orgasm ripping through her body. Her arms tighten around his neck and he groans into her shoulder as he starts to come within her, long pulses, thrusts losing all rhythm and just becoming erratic and desperate. She’s moaning into his neck and he’s holding her tightly, hips bucking upwards, warmth flooding her. Sweat glistens on her back, he can feel it under his hands, and she’s panting, hands clawing at the back of his neck.
She rolls off him when their orgasms finally subside, landing on the bed beside him and staring up at the ceiling. She’s panting and so is he.
“White sheets?” she says.
“What?” he replies. “I like white. White’s clean and fresh like me.”
She raises a disbelieving eyebrow at him. “Yeah. You’re clean.”
"I’m usually clean! You just... dirtied me, Amy Pond.” He gives her a good tempered glare and she grins, pulling the covers up over her chest.
“You broke all my rules,” the Doctor says, with a sigh. “I was so determined to stick to those rules.”
“Rules are boring,” she says. “Life’s no fun if you don’t break some rules.” She rolls over, landing on his hips and leans down, kissing him again. This time the kiss is soft, lips moving together, tongues touching gently and hands in hair.
She rolls back off him a minute later, yawning. “Busy day,” she says.
“Day...day...” he repeats the word as though trying to retrieve a locked away memory. “Tomorrow!” The Doctor shoots up in bed, sitting up straight and pulling out his sonic screwdriver. Amy gives him a wide-eyed look.
“Where were you hiding that?” she demands, with a squeak.
"You really don’t want to know.” He leans over her, passing the screwdriver over the bruises on her neck and shoulders.
“I wanted to keep those,” she says, sadly.
“Turn over,” the Doctor says, blatantly ignoring her. She sighs and moves around to lie on her front. The Doctor gently moves her hair and uses the screwdriver to heal the finger marks on her back. Then, he jumps to his feet.
She props herself up on her elbows, staring at him. “Where do you think you’re going?!” she demands.
“Things to do! Busy day coming up! Amy, you... you sleep. I have to go and jump out of a cake!” He gives her a manic grin as he runs from the room and she just stares at him.
“You’re mad, you are,” she mutters, relaxing back down to lie, quietly on her front. A moment passes before she leaps to her feet and shouts, “Jump out of a what?!” as she launches herself down the TARDIS corridor outside the Doctor’s room.
Next one here.