A/N: In case you're wondering, yes I'm suffering from the flu, with nothing to entertain me than Dr. Who and my dirty thoughts. Also, I might have been listening to the good old "Doctor Doctor" by UFO. Please review and please note that this is really rated M for a reason! I hope to update soon, especially if I get reviews/favs.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, no money involved here, just pleasure.
Doctor, doctor, please
Amelia Pond was in terrible pain. Her joints throbbed with it, her head felt like it was bursting and worst of all, her skin was so sensitive so that every time she moved on the cool sheets of her bed in TARDIS, fresh bursts of agony ensued. She had been suffering for a while now in a kind of miserable daze, but now that she heard the familiar footsteps from the hallway she managed to whimper very faintly: "Doctor…doctor…please."
As she expected, her door opened immediately and the tall figure of the doctor was silhouetted in the doorframe. "Pond! What's the matter?" he bellowed. Amy winced and whispered. "Not so loud, doctor… I think… I think I'm dying…" With two leaps of his long legs, the doctor was by her bed, leaning over her. "Amy what's wrong? Tell me!" he whispered furiously, already waving his sonic screwdriver at her direction. After the initial reading he mumbled, "This is extremely very not good. Must be that last transit point. A million lifeforms passing through, no surprise that you can catch something like this…" Amy's eyes fluttered shut and the Doctors face and voice seem to drift somewhere far away. "No, no, no, no, no! Stay awake Amelia, you stay awake now!" With great difficulty Amy concentrated again in the present moment, "What's…wrong..with…me?" she breathed.
"Nothing, it's nothing I can't fix," the Doctor said smiling, but the smile was a little too bright, of the specific variety that told Amy that there was plenty to be worried about. Doctor cupped his large hands around Amy's face, looking deep into her eyes. His hands were smooth and gentle, and blessedly cool on Amy's feverish skin. "Now, Amy, I need to take some more precise readings. But I need the reading directly from the skin above your heart. I'm sorry, but I need to open your shirt, OK?" A ghost of a crooked smile played on Amy's lips. "Oh, Doctor, you don't know how long I've waited to hear that."
"Shh now is not the time for jokes," Doctor responded but smiled as well. The day Amy would be too sick to flirt would be a bad day indeed. Doctor felt a swell of tenderness in both his hearts when he looked at his Amelia Pond, his magnificent Pond lying so still and pale. He opened the buttons of her shirt slowly, noticing how weird it was that his hands were shaking. We're friends, just friend he kept telling himself. But as more and more of her creamy skin was revealed it became harder and harder to hold on to that. "Now, let's see," the Doctor said, running his sonic screwdriver in a small circle just below Amy's left breast.
Amy let out a content sigh. The sonic screwdriver left in its wake a feeling of wonderful relief, a blessed absence of pain. Suddenly she felt like she could breathe easier. As she felt the misery slowly leave her body, the situation suddenly became much more interesting. Here she was, practically naked, and there was no way the Doctor would run away from a sick girl.
"Oh, Doctor, that feels so good! But I still have these joint pains. And my neck and back are killing me. Would you mind using that screwdriver a bit more, please?" While she was talking she had already shed the rest of her shirt and turned to lie on her stomach.
"Sure, no problem," said the Doctor in a slightly higher voice than usual. A slightly panicky track of "Just friends, remember, just friends, even though she is lying there in front of you in only her knickers, asking you to touch her, we're just friends, can you get it through your thick skull!" was going through his mind.
All of this inner monologue just sort of melted away when Amy started moaning: "Oh Doctor, that feels so good, yes, can you do my arms as well, please? And my lower back, please, Doctor?" Something about the way she whispered his name made his hearts beat faster. The dream that he had a few days ago surfaced to his mind. He had been saving Amy, finding her chained up in a cell wearing next to nothing. But instead of releasing her immediately, his dream-self had taken the opportunity to ravish the red haired beauty in many inventive and filthy ways. He had woken up disgusted with himself but almost painfully hard. The sounds Amy had been making in the dream were a lot like the sounds she was making now.
