Title-less first half of an unfinished fic. You so want to read this (!)
This body, the Doctor decided, was definitely gay. It hadn’t been like this before; there had always been a strong sense of ambiguity, of variation, a bit of swing in his sexual preferences, whenever he remembered to pay attention to them. Yes, in other bodies there had been some interesting feelings in the pit of whichever stomach was in the presence of a select few companions, but this was different. So very different. The urgency, the heat, the sheer want of his...desire. A very new, unique feature of the regeneration, both in the quantity and in the application of said feelings. Though there were two naked humans fumbling for cover before his eyes, it was only one of them making him feel hot and awkward and strangely tight as they covered themselves up. So, he concluded to himself as he eyed Amy and Rory’s hurried disentanglement of body parts, this latest regeneration of his? Definitely gay.
It’s not like Amy wasn’t attractive; far from it, the Doctor knew that she was generally considered a ‘hottie’ in Human terminology, and as he had now seen her admittedly charming breasts that he had managed to walk in on despite the infinite size of the TARDIS, he could see the basis of her appeal. But he wasn’t interested. He found his eyes drawn to the blushing form of Rory, as he rolled off the bed clutching a blanket to his body and groaning with embarrassment and possibly pain as he seemed to have hit his head as he exited the bed, stage right. The sight took the Doctor’s breath away and made his skin feel like it was shrinking around him, like his stomach was being boiled in the desert lakes of Maklatare and his two hearts pound like they were leading the procession at the Rio Carnival. Rory’s body was glistening with a light sheen of sweat, highlighting his lean and surprisingly well-defined torso. A rosy flush had settled over his face and neck and he stared up at the Doctor through hooded, darkened eyes that suddenly widened with embarrassment, the blush deepening even further as he realised exactly why Amy had suddenly flung him off the bed halfway through the fun. He jerked up and away from the bed, hands flailing to cover up parts of his body that the Doctor found himself wishing to examine more closely and diving for a stray jumper to cover himself, an action which the Doctor found himself to be mildly upset by. Rory and Amy’s embarrassment was palpable even to the Doctor as his gaze swung between the two humans, a hand running through his hair, causing it to stand even more on end as his fingers ran wildly through the thick strands.
‘Ah, I’ll just err, just, urmm, come, I mean, I’ll leave you two to it and, um, yes, you can, um, finish off, umm and umm put some clothes on and I really should think about putting locks on some of the doors, shouldn’t I? You humans and your privacy and tendency to get naked when you want, um, to be, well, alone, um yes, I’ll go look for a lock, shall I? Just wanted to ask if you two wanted a cup of tea, should’ve realised that you were, um, busy, um sorry!’
The words tumbled out of him in a rush of nerves as he tried not to stare at Rory, tried to stop his eyes from tracing the outline of his shoulders, the light dusting of hair over his chest. Nervous hands fluttered in the air as he turned away, his eyes protesting at being denied a longer look at Rory who had managed to stumble into the wardrobe, where from the sounds of it, he was having a fight with a coat hanger and losing.
Amy sat on the bed, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find words to say through her discomfort. The Doctor’s hand fumbled with the door behind him as he whirled around, almost tripping over himself as he rushed out, closing the door behind him with a bang and setting off down the corridor of the TARDIS with all the grace of a deckchair.
Sometimes the TARDIS was such a wonderful old girl. Like now, for instance, having picked up on the emotional turmoil and restless energy coursing through the Doctor’s body, she had gone and provided him with a seemingly endless supply of well-carpeted and airy corridors to flail down, his thoughts just as scrambled as his whirling limbs.
‘Okay, right, that’s enough, I need somewhere to stop and check I still have my lungs, if you don’t mind!’ he gasped out eventually, and immediately turned a corner to find a plush, squishy-looking sofa just begging to be collapsed on. Which he did. ‘Timber!’ could be the only way to describe it.
Arms hanging off the sides, legs trembling with lactic acid build-up, and skin flushing, the Doctor gulped in breath after breath to try and calm down his body, and more importantly, calm down his mind. Which obstinately refused to do so. The Doctor sighed, closed his eyes, and gave in.
So. Rory. A man. Who had just been very naked in front of his very eyes not 10 minutes ago. A very naked man. Who had a girlfriend. A very naked, very pretty Amy. Much as he tried though, his mind, and his trousers, kept dragging his attention back to the memory of Rory’s glistening back, as it moved slowly and lithely over Amy’s body, the low light creating shadows and ridges over muscle and bone, completely captivating the Doctor’s eyes, until Amy had opened her eyes and looked over his shoulder to see him standing there. The Doctor groaned. Why did he choose such ridiculously fitted trousers to wear? This was just getting uncomfortable. He chanced a look down through one squinty eye. Nope, situation was still terminal. How long had they been this...bulgy? Seriously, was it the new body, or the new trousers? Maybe just a trick of the light? Maybe if he just had a quick examination of the area, it might not all be him, could just be the one and only baggy part of his outfit?
A hand slowly reached down and tentatively poked the bulge. A hiss of air wormed its way out of his mouth at the sensations it provoked within him. No, then. It was all him. Fingers slowly spreading, his palm came into contact with the rough fabric, sliding over the ridge of his fly, building up the pressure slowly, his breath hitching in his throat. Goooooooooooood that felt so good. This was the first time he’d touched himself like this, in the new body. He’d done it before, but regeneration always seemed to wipe the physical memories, the sensations, and the experience. So it was technically his first time. He was technically a 900-year-old-plus virgin. Damn, that was depressing.
As his hand slipped open the button of his fly and dragged down the zipper, his mind was tormented once again by visions of Rory’s gloriously naked arse, so firm and round and, the idea popped into his head without any prompting, biteable. All he wanted to do was touch Rory, have Rory touch him; slip his fingers inside his boxers just as he was doing to himself. But Rory had Amy. They came from a heteronormative society, albeit in a more liberal world than previous incarnations had had to deal with. The hand stopped in its quest. Was it terribly wrong to think about Rory like this? Rory was a guest, a straight human from the 21st century. It wasn’t fair to use him as mental pornography for an ancient alien from another world and time, was it?
But he doesn’t need to know about it, no one needs to know about it piped up a small voice in the back of his mind that the Doctor strongly suspected was his libido. Funny, it hadn’t been this vocal for a few bodies now; they had all been overwhelmed by guilt, determination, regret and justice. Come on, it won’t hurt, it’d feel so good, just imagine how good it, he would feel. Try it.
He struggled to pull his trousers down, damn their snug fit! As they slipped over his narrow hips, they dragged his boxers along with them, and his erection sprang free, hard and red, with precome glistening at the head. Unbidden, his hand wrapped itself around his length and he gasped at the sensation, the prickly heat curling up through his groin to simmer in his belly, his hips jerking on the sofa, his head flinging backwards and the images to come flooding into his mind’s eye.
Rory was pushing him up against a wall, kissing him like his life depended on it, and the Doctor was kissing back, opening his mouth, letting their tongues slide against each other as hands groped wildly under clothes, grasping and tugging at the wiry flesh. Rory was pushing him towards a bed, fumbling with buttons, the sound of rumpled cloth hitting the floor as they tumbled onto the sheets, gasps and moans filling the air. Rory was on his back, the Doctor worshipping a nipple with his tongue, teeth and lips, dragging his mouth down the line of Rory’s ribs, circling his navel, dragging his teeth over the crest of a hipbone, licking down the line of muscle leading to the wiry hairs the nestled at the base of... God, Rory’s cock. Even if the Doctor could never know for sure exactly what it looked like, he knew it would be beautiful. Anything belonging to Rory would.
His hand moved faster, pumping up and down his cock, a grunt escaping his lips as he twisted his hand tightly over the head, his other hand fumbling with his bowtie, leaving it draped around his neck as he pulled his shirt buttons apart, the heat of his imagination needing release, his nipples hard and throbbing with want.
The Doctor was on his back now, with Rory’s weight settled between his legs, the heat of their erections burning their skin as they teasingly rubbed and frotted against each other’s hipbones. Rory had his fingers in his mouth, slicking them up with his saliva, and the Doctor could only dream of the want in Rory’s eyes, want he knew could only be reflected just as strongly in his own, pupils wide and dark as a dead star, while lust and desire coursed through their veins like a blazing comet.
The blood was pounding in his ears, his lungs straining to snatch oxygen, his hearts thudding in his chest like the sound of rain on a metal roof. His other hand slipped down his body, tweaking a nipple, scraping nails over skin to softly cub his balls and gently massage them, rolling them around as his hand worked its way up and down his throbbing cock.
The images were getting vaguer as his experience and intuition slowly failed him; he was only mildly aware of fingers sliding down his back, parting his backside, slipping into the cleft to his entrance, as Rory scraped his teeth along his jaw line and bit down the length of the Doctor’s neck.
Determinedly, the Doctor removed the hand from his balls and moved it backwards, sliding it towards unchartered territory. His other hand sped up, increasing in pace and tightness, twisting over the head and dragging precome down, slicking himself up. As he tentatively explored the tight skin, he gasped out a name, choked on the beauty that filled his mind, back arching, muscles clenching, face curled up in ecstasy.
‘Rory!’
Come spurted over his belly, his hips raised in rapture as he soared through the crest of his orgasm, spirally out of control into a field of stars he had never sailed across. Sweat gathered at his brow, and his breathing slowed down as he lay there, trembling, and limbs relaxed and jelly-like, one hand still wrapped around his softening cock.
‘What the hell just happened?!’
He jerked upwards, turning around, to lock eyes with a very startled and almost definitely furious Amy Pond.
In later days, the Doctor probably would try to forget the noise he let out as he instinctively curled into a ball at the sight of Amy Pond towering over his sofa. But for history’s sake, let it be known that it was somewhere between a squeak and a whimper. His face flushed with blood and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead, hands, and interestingly, behind his left knee. Oooh, another new body quirk. Nervous knees. That’s a bit different.
‘Ummm, what do you mean, ‘what the hell just happened?!’?’ he asked in a voice that was most definitely not an octave or two higher than his usual pitch.
‘I mean, would you care to explain to me why I just caught you jerking off, IN PUBLIC, MIGHT I ADD, with MY BOYFRIEND’S name on your lips as you came!’ Amy hollered, her Scottish accent growing harsher as she spoke.
‘Technically, we’re not in public, we’re on the TARDIS, which is sort of my ship, so I can technically do whatever I like wherever I like, ‘cos she’s my ship, aren’t you, old girl?’
The corridor jolted ever so slightly at that moment, and the Doctor could have sworn that the TARDIS had just shrugged. Never mind that for the moment, just focus on the angry Scottish girl, wrapped in a blue dressing-gown he swore he knew from somewhere.
‘Doctor, I don’t care where the hell we are, I just want to know why, after walking in on Rory and I having some...alone time’, a blush finally sauntered into appearance on her pale cheeks, ‘and instead of discreetly leaving us to it and twiddling your thumbs on the other side of the ship, you decide to stand there and gawp at us like we were the first humans you’d ever seen...expressing physical intimacy’, the blush was really going for it now, ‘gabble on at barely decipherable speeds, and then proceed to leave said room and walk a few metres down the hallway and have a wank! About Rory from the sounds of things! WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED!?!’
‘B-b-but, but, I was running for ages! There was all this corridor, lovely carpet, and good traction, plenty of flail-space, and I thought I was miles away, and that you wouldn’t find me, and I didn’t mean to, I know he’s your boyfriend, and that it’s a bit weird, but I didn’t know what else to do and I didn’t think you’d come and look for me, and I just...wanted to.’
He stood up. Then blushed an even deeper red, bent down, and pulled up his trousers, which he had inevitably forgotten to fasten as Amy had ranted at him.
‘I’m sorry, Amy. It was terribly rude of me to fantasise about your boyfriend, and I promise not to do it again.’
Amy smirked. She smirked and an eyebrow quirked up as she crossed her arms.
‘Amy, why are you smirking? That doesn’t look like a pleasant ‘oh, don’t worry about it, Doctor’, smirk, that looks like an ‘I am going to be very awkward now, just you wait, Doctor’ smirk. Stop smirking. Please?’
Without realising it, he had been walking slowly backwards, the jolt of the TARDIS’ wall surprising him as he tried to burrow his way through it, away from that enigmatic smirk.
‘Doctor’, her voice quieter now, a gentle soothing lilt, ‘Did you hear me at any point say ‘don’t do that again’? Or, ‘that was wrong of you’? No? Because I didn’t. I wouldn’t. In fact, I’d love it if you did it again. It wasn’t wrong, it was just hot.’
‘Errr. What?’
‘Do it again. Think about Rory, and touch yourself.’
‘Errmmm, why?’
Amy rolled her eyes impatiently, ‘Because it’s hot, you virginal idiot!’ she exclaimed, flinging out her arms in exasperation.
‘Oh.’
‘Yes, you stupid spaceman. And d’you know what’d be even hotter?’ She said, leaning towards him conspiratorially, the Doctor leaning forward in instinctive imitation.
‘If Rory joined in.’ She whispered, her dark eyes gleaming with imagination and desire.
The Doctor felt his hearts spike and the recently-cooled fire low in his belly sparked back into life, heat rippling through his veins at the thought of actually carrying out his dreams.
‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Kissing Rory, touching Rory, tasting Rory.’ Amy teased, drawing out the syllables with elegant eroticism.
‘And Rory would like it too.’ She added, almost as an afterthought.
The Doctor had had his fair share of double takes over his extremely long lifespan. But this was one of the more emotionally intense, he reckoned, calculating that it was well within the Top Ten Double Takes of His Life.
‘What? What?! WHAT?! But, but, Rory’s with you! He likes girls! With, y’know, boobies and curves and. Things!’
‘Yes well, it’s true that Rory likes girls, especially feisty redheads with exceptionally fantastic tits, if I may say so myself, but Rory also like boys. In fact, you’re just his type. Clever, sexy in a geeky kinda way, skinny...’
‘Hang on just a minute!’
‘He’d love to have a taste of you. See what makes a Timelord scream. And I’d like to watch.’ Stated Amy, as simply as if she was just asking to go back and watch Queen’s ’86 Wembley concert. Again.
His knees buckled. The Doctor’s knees actually buckled. This wasn’t supposed to happen, he thought to himself, fantasies aren’t supposed to just come true and offer themselves up to you on a plate.
‘You’re joking, right? Rory wouldn’t be up for this, you’re just teasing me, making fun of the fact that you caught me...enjoying...ummm, savouring a private moment, in which I may or may not have called out a certain human male’s name, but didn’t actually mean anything by it, which is just unfair and possibly a bit mean of you!’
‘Doctor, do I look like I’m joking? Just come back to my room with me, and ask Rory for yourself.’
Must get better control of my legs, thought the Doctor, as he inevitably turned to follow Amy down the hallway, and back into the room he thought he had so successfully evaded.
It’s not like Amy wasn’t attractive; far from it, the Doctor knew that she was generally considered a ‘hottie’ in Human terminology, and as he had now seen her admittedly charming breasts that he had managed to walk in on despite the infinite size of the TARDIS, he could see the basis of her appeal. But he wasn’t interested. He found his eyes drawn to the blushing form of Rory, as he rolled off the bed clutching a blanket to his body and groaning with embarrassment and possibly pain as he seemed to have hit his head as he exited the bed, stage right. The sight took the Doctor’s breath away and made his skin feel like it was shrinking around him, like his stomach was being boiled in the desert lakes of Maklatare and his two hearts pound like they were leading the procession at the Rio Carnival. Rory’s body was glistening with a light sheen of sweat, highlighting his lean and surprisingly well-defined torso. A rosy flush had settled over his face and neck and he stared up at the Doctor through hooded, darkened eyes that suddenly widened with embarrassment, the blush deepening even further as he realised exactly why Amy had suddenly flung him off the bed halfway through the fun. He jerked up and away from the bed, hands flailing to cover up parts of his body that the Doctor found himself wishing to examine more closely and diving for a stray jumper to cover himself, an action which the Doctor found himself to be mildly upset by. Rory and Amy’s embarrassment was palpable even to the Doctor as his gaze swung between the two humans, a hand running through his hair, causing it to stand even more on end as his fingers ran wildly through the thick strands.
‘Ah, I’ll just err, just, urmm, come, I mean, I’ll leave you two to it and, um, yes, you can, um, finish off, umm and umm put some clothes on and I really should think about putting locks on some of the doors, shouldn’t I? You humans and your privacy and tendency to get naked when you want, um, to be, well, alone, um yes, I’ll go look for a lock, shall I? Just wanted to ask if you two wanted a cup of tea, should’ve realised that you were, um, busy, um sorry!’
The words tumbled out of him in a rush of nerves as he tried not to stare at Rory, tried to stop his eyes from tracing the outline of his shoulders, the light dusting of hair over his chest. Nervous hands fluttered in the air as he turned away, his eyes protesting at being denied a longer look at Rory who had managed to stumble into the wardrobe, where from the sounds of it, he was having a fight with a coat hanger and losing.
Amy sat on the bed, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find words to say through her discomfort. The Doctor’s hand fumbled with the door behind him as he whirled around, almost tripping over himself as he rushed out, closing the door behind him with a bang and setting off down the corridor of the TARDIS with all the grace of a deckchair.
Sometimes the TARDIS was such a wonderful old girl. Like now, for instance, having picked up on the emotional turmoil and restless energy coursing through the Doctor’s body, she had gone and provided him with a seemingly endless supply of well-carpeted and airy corridors to flail down, his thoughts just as scrambled as his whirling limbs.
‘Okay, right, that’s enough, I need somewhere to stop and check I still have my lungs, if you don’t mind!’ he gasped out eventually, and immediately turned a corner to find a plush, squishy-looking sofa just begging to be collapsed on. Which he did. ‘Timber!’ could be the only way to describe it.
Arms hanging off the sides, legs trembling with lactic acid build-up, and skin flushing, the Doctor gulped in breath after breath to try and calm down his body, and more importantly, calm down his mind. Which obstinately refused to do so. The Doctor sighed, closed his eyes, and gave in.
So. Rory. A man. Who had just been very naked in front of his very eyes not 10 minutes ago. A very naked man. Who had a girlfriend. A very naked, very pretty Amy. Much as he tried though, his mind, and his trousers, kept dragging his attention back to the memory of Rory’s glistening back, as it moved slowly and lithely over Amy’s body, the low light creating shadows and ridges over muscle and bone, completely captivating the Doctor’s eyes, until Amy had opened her eyes and looked over his shoulder to see him standing there. The Doctor groaned. Why did he choose such ridiculously fitted trousers to wear? This was just getting uncomfortable. He chanced a look down through one squinty eye. Nope, situation was still terminal. How long had they been this...bulgy? Seriously, was it the new body, or the new trousers? Maybe just a trick of the light? Maybe if he just had a quick examination of the area, it might not all be him, could just be the one and only baggy part of his outfit?
A hand slowly reached down and tentatively poked the bulge. A hiss of air wormed its way out of his mouth at the sensations it provoked within him. No, then. It was all him. Fingers slowly spreading, his palm came into contact with the rough fabric, sliding over the ridge of his fly, building up the pressure slowly, his breath hitching in his throat. Goooooooooooood that felt so good. This was the first time he’d touched himself like this, in the new body. He’d done it before, but regeneration always seemed to wipe the physical memories, the sensations, and the experience. So it was technically his first time. He was technically a 900-year-old-plus virgin. Damn, that was depressing.
As his hand slipped open the button of his fly and dragged down the zipper, his mind was tormented once again by visions of Rory’s gloriously naked arse, so firm and round and, the idea popped into his head without any prompting, biteable. All he wanted to do was touch Rory, have Rory touch him; slip his fingers inside his boxers just as he was doing to himself. But Rory had Amy. They came from a heteronormative society, albeit in a more liberal world than previous incarnations had had to deal with. The hand stopped in its quest. Was it terribly wrong to think about Rory like this? Rory was a guest, a straight human from the 21st century. It wasn’t fair to use him as mental pornography for an ancient alien from another world and time, was it?
But he doesn’t need to know about it, no one needs to know about it piped up a small voice in the back of his mind that the Doctor strongly suspected was his libido. Funny, it hadn’t been this vocal for a few bodies now; they had all been overwhelmed by guilt, determination, regret and justice. Come on, it won’t hurt, it’d feel so good, just imagine how good it, he would feel. Try it.
He struggled to pull his trousers down, damn their snug fit! As they slipped over his narrow hips, they dragged his boxers along with them, and his erection sprang free, hard and red, with precome glistening at the head. Unbidden, his hand wrapped itself around his length and he gasped at the sensation, the prickly heat curling up through his groin to simmer in his belly, his hips jerking on the sofa, his head flinging backwards and the images to come flooding into his mind’s eye.
Rory was pushing him up against a wall, kissing him like his life depended on it, and the Doctor was kissing back, opening his mouth, letting their tongues slide against each other as hands groped wildly under clothes, grasping and tugging at the wiry flesh. Rory was pushing him towards a bed, fumbling with buttons, the sound of rumpled cloth hitting the floor as they tumbled onto the sheets, gasps and moans filling the air. Rory was on his back, the Doctor worshipping a nipple with his tongue, teeth and lips, dragging his mouth down the line of Rory’s ribs, circling his navel, dragging his teeth over the crest of a hipbone, licking down the line of muscle leading to the wiry hairs the nestled at the base of... God, Rory’s cock. Even if the Doctor could never know for sure exactly what it looked like, he knew it would be beautiful. Anything belonging to Rory would.
His hand moved faster, pumping up and down his cock, a grunt escaping his lips as he twisted his hand tightly over the head, his other hand fumbling with his bowtie, leaving it draped around his neck as he pulled his shirt buttons apart, the heat of his imagination needing release, his nipples hard and throbbing with want.
The Doctor was on his back now, with Rory’s weight settled between his legs, the heat of their erections burning their skin as they teasingly rubbed and frotted against each other’s hipbones. Rory had his fingers in his mouth, slicking them up with his saliva, and the Doctor could only dream of the want in Rory’s eyes, want he knew could only be reflected just as strongly in his own, pupils wide and dark as a dead star, while lust and desire coursed through their veins like a blazing comet.
The blood was pounding in his ears, his lungs straining to snatch oxygen, his hearts thudding in his chest like the sound of rain on a metal roof. His other hand slipped down his body, tweaking a nipple, scraping nails over skin to softly cub his balls and gently massage them, rolling them around as his hand worked its way up and down his throbbing cock.
The images were getting vaguer as his experience and intuition slowly failed him; he was only mildly aware of fingers sliding down his back, parting his backside, slipping into the cleft to his entrance, as Rory scraped his teeth along his jaw line and bit down the length of the Doctor’s neck.
Determinedly, the Doctor removed the hand from his balls and moved it backwards, sliding it towards unchartered territory. His other hand sped up, increasing in pace and tightness, twisting over the head and dragging precome down, slicking himself up. As he tentatively explored the tight skin, he gasped out a name, choked on the beauty that filled his mind, back arching, muscles clenching, face curled up in ecstasy.
‘Rory!’
Come spurted over his belly, his hips raised in rapture as he soared through the crest of his orgasm, spirally out of control into a field of stars he had never sailed across. Sweat gathered at his brow, and his breathing slowed down as he lay there, trembling, and limbs relaxed and jelly-like, one hand still wrapped around his softening cock.
‘What the hell just happened?!’
He jerked upwards, turning around, to lock eyes with a very startled and almost definitely furious Amy Pond.
In later days, the Doctor probably would try to forget the noise he let out as he instinctively curled into a ball at the sight of Amy Pond towering over his sofa. But for history’s sake, let it be known that it was somewhere between a squeak and a whimper. His face flushed with blood and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead, hands, and interestingly, behind his left knee. Oooh, another new body quirk. Nervous knees. That’s a bit different.
‘Ummm, what do you mean, ‘what the hell just happened?!’?’ he asked in a voice that was most definitely not an octave or two higher than his usual pitch.
‘I mean, would you care to explain to me why I just caught you jerking off, IN PUBLIC, MIGHT I ADD, with MY BOYFRIEND’S name on your lips as you came!’ Amy hollered, her Scottish accent growing harsher as she spoke.
‘Technically, we’re not in public, we’re on the TARDIS, which is sort of my ship, so I can technically do whatever I like wherever I like, ‘cos she’s my ship, aren’t you, old girl?’
The corridor jolted ever so slightly at that moment, and the Doctor could have sworn that the TARDIS had just shrugged. Never mind that for the moment, just focus on the angry Scottish girl, wrapped in a blue dressing-gown he swore he knew from somewhere.
‘Doctor, I don’t care where the hell we are, I just want to know why, after walking in on Rory and I having some...alone time’, a blush finally sauntered into appearance on her pale cheeks, ‘and instead of discreetly leaving us to it and twiddling your thumbs on the other side of the ship, you decide to stand there and gawp at us like we were the first humans you’d ever seen...expressing physical intimacy’, the blush was really going for it now, ‘gabble on at barely decipherable speeds, and then proceed to leave said room and walk a few metres down the hallway and have a wank! About Rory from the sounds of things! WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED!?!’
‘B-b-but, but, I was running for ages! There was all this corridor, lovely carpet, and good traction, plenty of flail-space, and I thought I was miles away, and that you wouldn’t find me, and I didn’t mean to, I know he’s your boyfriend, and that it’s a bit weird, but I didn’t know what else to do and I didn’t think you’d come and look for me, and I just...wanted to.’
He stood up. Then blushed an even deeper red, bent down, and pulled up his trousers, which he had inevitably forgotten to fasten as Amy had ranted at him.
‘I’m sorry, Amy. It was terribly rude of me to fantasise about your boyfriend, and I promise not to do it again.’
Amy smirked. She smirked and an eyebrow quirked up as she crossed her arms.
‘Amy, why are you smirking? That doesn’t look like a pleasant ‘oh, don’t worry about it, Doctor’, smirk, that looks like an ‘I am going to be very awkward now, just you wait, Doctor’ smirk. Stop smirking. Please?’
Without realising it, he had been walking slowly backwards, the jolt of the TARDIS’ wall surprising him as he tried to burrow his way through it, away from that enigmatic smirk.
‘Doctor’, her voice quieter now, a gentle soothing lilt, ‘Did you hear me at any point say ‘don’t do that again’? Or, ‘that was wrong of you’? No? Because I didn’t. I wouldn’t. In fact, I’d love it if you did it again. It wasn’t wrong, it was just hot.’
‘Errr. What?’
‘Do it again. Think about Rory, and touch yourself.’
‘Errmmm, why?’
Amy rolled her eyes impatiently, ‘Because it’s hot, you virginal idiot!’ she exclaimed, flinging out her arms in exasperation.
‘Oh.’
‘Yes, you stupid spaceman. And d’you know what’d be even hotter?’ She said, leaning towards him conspiratorially, the Doctor leaning forward in instinctive imitation.
‘If Rory joined in.’ She whispered, her dark eyes gleaming with imagination and desire.
The Doctor felt his hearts spike and the recently-cooled fire low in his belly sparked back into life, heat rippling through his veins at the thought of actually carrying out his dreams.
‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Kissing Rory, touching Rory, tasting Rory.’ Amy teased, drawing out the syllables with elegant eroticism.
‘And Rory would like it too.’ She added, almost as an afterthought.
The Doctor had had his fair share of double takes over his extremely long lifespan. But this was one of the more emotionally intense, he reckoned, calculating that it was well within the Top Ten Double Takes of His Life.
‘What? What?! WHAT?! But, but, Rory’s with you! He likes girls! With, y’know, boobies and curves and. Things!’
‘Yes well, it’s true that Rory likes girls, especially feisty redheads with exceptionally fantastic tits, if I may say so myself, but Rory also like boys. In fact, you’re just his type. Clever, sexy in a geeky kinda way, skinny...’
‘Hang on just a minute!’
‘He’d love to have a taste of you. See what makes a Timelord scream. And I’d like to watch.’ Stated Amy, as simply as if she was just asking to go back and watch Queen’s ’86 Wembley concert. Again.
His knees buckled. The Doctor’s knees actually buckled. This wasn’t supposed to happen, he thought to himself, fantasies aren’t supposed to just come true and offer themselves up to you on a plate.
‘You’re joking, right? Rory wouldn’t be up for this, you’re just teasing me, making fun of the fact that you caught me...enjoying...ummm, savouring a private moment, in which I may or may not have called out a certain human male’s name, but didn’t actually mean anything by it, which is just unfair and possibly a bit mean of you!’
‘Doctor, do I look like I’m joking? Just come back to my room with me, and ask Rory for yourself.’
Must get better control of my legs, thought the Doctor, as he inevitably turned to follow Amy down the hallway, and back into the room he thought he had so successfully evaded.