Fic: With The Best Intentions (11/Amy, R)
A/N: Just some silly, smutty 11/Amy (and kind of 11/TARDIS) goodness I've had banging around in my head. Well, it was meant to be silly, then it got kind of sad, then it went right back to silly. But always smutty. :) Can be seen as taking place somewhere between "The Lodger" and "The Pandorica Opens.”
Sometimes Amy wondered if the Doctor ever walked into a room and didn't immediately throw his arms wide and start lecturing about the atmosphere, or the history, or, in this case, the windows.
"Look at that, Pond," he enthused as he moved to the giant pane of glass that took up most of one wall. "Now this, this, is human ingenuity at work!"
"Mm-hm," Amy agreed, already toeing off her trainers and kicking them under the bed. As the Doctor, his back to her, continued to list all the reasons this hotel in 28th century Florida was magnificent ("nearly five thousand rooms, Pond, five thousand. And all of them underwater! The engineering in creating this particular building is nothing less than..."), Amy began unbuttoning her jacket.
She had to admit the hotel room was pretty impressive. It wasn't every day a girl got to vacation in what was basically a luxury aquarium. But it wasn't the play of watery blue light on the tile floor or the colorful fish swimming by outside that made Amy's mouth quirk into a smile.
It was the plans she had for this particular room.
Ever since Amy had finally coerced the Doctor into her bed (an event that had taken a week of planning, three costume changes, two planets, and, in the end, had still only happened because the Doctor thought their wine had been spiked with some kind of alien aphrodisiac), she'd realized that sleeping with the Doctor wasn't exactly like she'd thought it would be.
For one thing, he didn't actually sleep, but that was a whole other issue. The real problem seemed to be that they never had...well, time.
"We live inside a time machine," she'd said to him incredulously several weeks back. At the time, she'd been sprawled on a chaise lounge in an 18th century manor house, her jeans unbuttoned and her blouse somewhere underneath the armoire. Mere moments before, the Doctor had been on top of her, and things had been getting very interesting before he'd pulled away. "You're a bloody Time. Lord. What do you mean 'we don't have time for this right now?'"
The Doctor had straightened his bow tie and looked slightly abashed as he'd replied, "The staff of this household has been infiltrated by the Slitheen, Amy. That has take precedence over...over," he waved his hand at her body, "other pursuits," he'd finally said. "I promise, once we get it sorted, we can do whatever you like back on the TARDIS. Well, no, not on the TARDIS, never on the TARDIS, that's the rule, and it's a good one, and we're sticking to that. But the next place we go, the very next place, I'll roger you up one side and down the other. How does that sound?"
Amy had leaned down to fish for her boots beside the chaise. "Rather uncomfortable, actually," she'd muttered, but she'd put her clothes back on and once again, they'd saved the day.
And then the Doctor had taken her to one of the moons of Jupiter, and while shagging had definitely been on the agenda, there had been
an insurrection that had to be assisted, and then, on Earth back in the 1920s, they'd had to fight a bunch of Autons disguised as mobsters, and after that..
Amy suppressed a sigh as she shrugged off her jacket and tossed it on the nearest chair. Apparently, sex and defending the universe didn't exactly go hand in hand. Especially since, as far as the Doctor was concerned, sex was fun, but it certainly couldn't compare to running for your life or getting covered in alien-sick.
But there'd be no running for their lives or sick of any kind this time. Amy had done her research on this place. For one hundred years, this hotel had stood- well, floated- under the calm waters of the Gulf of Mexico. Not one incident. No alien invasions, so mega-shark attacks, no sudden aquatic volcanic eruptions...
"And when you think about," the Doctor continued, completely oblivious to Amy untwisting her scarf from around her neck, "it speaks volumes about the human spirit that they could take this flooded place and turn into a- mmmph!"
Amy pressed her mouth to his, twining her fingers in his hair. For a moment, his hands flailed in the air somewhere around her shoulders. Then she slipped her tongue between his lips, tugged harder at his hair, and he stilled. With a groan, his mouth opened to hers, and his fingers cupped her face, tilting her head and deepening the kiss. When Amy pulled away, she was grinning.
"You could have at least let me finish my sentence," the Doctor said, bumping her nose with his. Amy could tell he was trying his best to sound miffed, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the grip he now had on her bum.
"I could have," Amy said, wrapping her fingers around his braces. "And I'm sure whatever you had to say about the human spirit was very clever and knowledgeable, but this human body hasn't been shagged in weeks."
She began tugging him toward the bed, but he planted his feet. "What do you mean, weeks?" he scoffed. "There was that thing we did."
"What 'thing?'"
"The thing," he insisted. "When I was at Craig's and you were stuck in the TARDIS. You know. The thing. With the earpiece."
Amy rolled her eyes and tightened her grip on his braces. "Some dirty talk and mutual wanking does not a proper shagging session make. Besides, that whole 'me being stuck in the TARDIS and nearly being flung into the vortex forever and ever' thing is why we're here. You," she released him long enough to poke his chest with one lavender fingernail- "are making it up to me."
He ducked his head a little, giving her that smile that somehow managed to be equal parts shy and smug. "Still," he pressed. "You did like it, didn't you? The thing with the earpiece." He lowered his lips to the spot just below her jaw, his breath ghosting over her skin. In the same low voice he'd used that night, he murmured, "Especially the part about making love to you on the console..."
Amy's eyes drifted shut and she swallowed heavily, her head falling back as he gently sucked that sensitive place just over her pounding pulse. "Oh, that part was only alright," she breathed, her fingers convulsively clutching at his shirt. "Certainly not your best work, but it got the job done."
The Doctor chuckled into her neck. "You nearly broke the blasted communicator." He lifted his head. "Wait, no. It wasn't the bending you over the console part that got to you. It was something to do with the swing underneath the console."
When Amy shivered as the memory of what he'd said flooded back over her, a slow smirk spread across the Doctor's face. "Ahhh, yes. It was the bit about the swing. What was it I said? That I wanted to sit you down in it and put those long legs of yours over my shoulders, and-,"
"Doctor," Amy moaned before covering his mouth with hers again. This time the kiss was hotter, wetter, and when it ended, Amy crossed her arms over her torso, grabbed the hem of her jumper, and yanked it over her head. She hadn't bothered with a bra, and as she stepped closer to him, her stiff nipples brushed against his jacket, sending another flurry of sparks shooting through her. "Enough talking. Bed. Now."
She began backing up, reaching under her skirt to tug off her tights, but the Doctor just stood there, looking unbearably proud of himself. "Disparaging my dirty talk, and look at you," he said, folding his arms over chest as Amy unzipped her skirt. "You practically have friction burns from how quickly that jumper came off, and I-,"
Amy pushed her skirt off her hips, and the Doctor's words apparently stuck in his throat. "Oh," he finally managed to get out.
In her hurry to get the Doctor into bed just in case the Giant Fish Tank Hotel was invaded by aliens, or exploded, or whatever, Amy had nearly forgotten her secret weapon. Now, biting back a smile, she looked down at herself, then back up at him, a completely innocent expression on her face. "What?"
"Your knickers. They're very...um...blue."
They were blue. Bright blue. TARDIS blue, you might even say.
This time, Amy couldn't hold back the wicked smile that crossed her face. "Thought these might hold your attention."
His eyes shot back and forth between her face and the scrap of electric blue silk. "I don't know what you're trying to imply, Pond, but...oh, sod it."
Amy gave a shrieking laugh as the Doctor charged her, grabbing her by the waist and tossing her back on the bed. Their lips met again as he settled over her. Amy wrapped a leg around his hip and pressed herself against him, and they both groaned. Tearing his mouth away from hers, the Doctor pushed himself up so that he could look down her body. "Where did you even get those?"
"The TARDIS gave them to me." Amy lifted her bum, and the Doctor sat up so that he could peel her knickers down her legs. "At least I think she did. Found 'em in the wardrobe right before we left."
The Doctor snorted as he ran his fingers over the silk and lace. "Cheeky old girl," he murmured affectionately before sliding the underwear into the inner pocket of his jacket. Then he looked back at Amy, his gaze hot. "Between the two of you, what chance do I stand?"
"Is that why, despite all the lovely ideas you came up with, we can't do this on the TARDIS?" Amy joked. "Because it would feel too much like a threesome?"
The Doctor's lips quirked in a smile, but there was something vaguely sad in it. "Something like that."
Then he leaned down, pressing an open mouthed kiss to her stomach, and suddenly Amy didn't care that they could never make love on his ship. As long as she could have him somewhere, that was enough.
Licking and sucking his way up her body, the Doctor paused at her breasts, running his tongue over one nipple, then the other, until Amy fisted both hands in his hair, and yanked his mouth back to hers. As he kissed her, Amy arched into him, the fabric of his trousers scratchy against her enflamed skin. That was another thing about sleeping with the Doctor. He never got naked. Or at least not completely naked.
At first, Amy had thought that was because he was afraid of being caught in some world-ending scenario with his pants literally down. That made sense. The Doctor could be...spazzy at the best of times. Trying to pull his clothes back on in the middle of a planet getting sucked into a black hole? Amy practically shuddered at the thought.
But sometimes, she wondered if it was more than that. If, like the No Shagging On the TARDIS rule, it was a way of keeping some kind of distance between them.
I don't care, she told herself fiercely as his hand moved between her legs, and she bit down on his tweed-covered shoulder. I don't care.
The Doctor's fingers kept moving and Amy's hips thrust against his hand, meeting his pace. "Oh, Amy" he murmured into the hair at her temple. "Beautiful, lovely, ginger Amy."
She giggled, but then he pressed his thumb harder against her. Amy's hands clutched at his back. "Yes!" she gasped. "Right there. Oh God, so close...," She threw her head back, her eyes closed, her blood singing, bells ringing in her ears...
Amy opened her eyes. Wait, no. As talented as the Doctor's fingers were, they weren't the cause of the ringing. That was-
The Doctor suddenly stopped what he was doing, eliciting a groan from Amy. He pushed himself up on one arm, ear cocked toward the door. "Is that...are those alarm bells?"
"No," she said, grabbing his face firmly in both hands and twisting his head to look at her. "They absolutely are not." She rolled her hips in an attempt to get him started again.
"Right," the Doctor said with a little nod. "Probably just a-a faulty smoke detector."
"Exactly," she said, sighing with relief lowered his face back into the crook of her neck and those marvelous fingers went to work. Reaching up to curl her hands around the wrought iron headboard, Amy arched her back, every nerve tensing as the sensations grew and grew and-
"No, Pond, those are definitely alarm bells."
The time, the Doctor didn't just stop. He drew his hand back from her altogether, and Amy made a sound that was somewhere between a sob and a scream.
"What, are you hurt?" the Doctor said, leaning over her, and Amy rolled over to press her face into the pillow and make that sound again, but a great deal louder and for a great deal longer.
When she was done, she felt the Doctor's tentative touch on her shoulder blade. "If it's alright," he said in the quiet, gentling voice one would use to talk to a wild animal, "I'll just go pop outside and see what all the fuss is, and then I'll come right back and we'll pick up where we left off. Would you mind that terribly? Amy? Amelia?"
"Yes, I bloody well would mind!" Amy shouted, sitting up and batting his hands away. "God, I just want one simple orgasm! One! Is that too much to ask?" He opened his mouth to speak, but Amy didn't give him a chance. "And don't bring up the thing with the earpiece again. I want an orgasm with you actually here in the same room. I swear, I've never had so much trouble shagging a bloke in my life."
"But-," the Doctor started to say, and Amy once again interrupted him.
"I know. You're not a bloke, and you warned me, and that's why there are all these rules to having sex with you, and why you won't even take that sodding bow tie off when I do get to have sex with you. I know." She pulled the sheet up to cover her breasts, and wrapped her arms around her knees ."And I know I'm being stupid and selfish, and people out there might need you, so it's fine. Go. Go save the world, and wave your screwdriver around, and I'll just...," She threw up her hands with a humourless laugh. "Wait."
The room seemed very quiet in the wake of her outburst, and Amy could hear the rustle of the bedclothes as the Doctor inched forward on his knees to wrap an arm around her waist. He didn't say anything, but Amy could feel his apology in the kiss he gave her shoulder.
And after a moment, Amy relented and leaned her head against his. "Worst imaginary friend ever," she muttered, and he must have heard the apology in that because he laughed. "Now, see, just a few moments ago, I could've sworn you would've said I was the best."
His hand reached up to cup her cheek, and he drew her mouth to his, kissing her gently, almost chastely. But there was nothing chaste about the look on his face when he pulled back. "It isn't," he said.
Amy blinked at him. "What?"
"One orgasm. It isn't too much to ask."
"But the alarms-,"
"Sound far off. And there's no pounding of feet or screaming, so whatever the danger is, we have at least a minute before it turns dire."
The Doctor pushed her back against the pillows, pulling the sheet from her body. Amy stacked her hands beneath her head and quirked an eyebrow at him. "A minute? How exactly do you propose to- oh..."
Yes, there were drawbacks to being intimate with the Doctor. He would never bring her breakfast in bed. He would never sleep curled up next to her, his breath warm on her neck. He would never pick lounging in the sheets over chasing down danger.
He would never stay,
But there were perks to sleeping with a 907 year old Time Lord. Namely the certain...talents he'd acquired in all that time.
All it took were two quick, hard flicks of his tongue, and suddenly Amy was bowing up off the mattress, her fingers knotted in his hair, her mouth open even though she didn't even have the breath to cry out. Shaking, she collapsed back against the pillows, staring dazedly at the ceiling.
"Okay," she panted as the aftershocks continued to ripple through her. "You're forgiven. Go stop the evil. Or fix the faulty smoke alarm. Whatever."
Chuckling, the Doctor scooted up to kiss the corner of her mouth. "You're a wonder, Amy Pond."
"Oh, right back at ya," she replied, pushing her hair back from her face with a still-trembling hand.
The Doctor leapt from the bed and flung open the door. By now, they could hear the sound of running feet, and the alarms were even louder. Something boomed in the distance, and the Doctor turned back to Amy with a huge grin. "Coming, Pond?"
And Amy grinned back, fought the urge to scold him about puns, and reached for her clothes.