It's all too easy and familiar to walk into the crowded pub and find the girl who's all alone. A few smooth words and heated glances and they're in her bedroom with her hand on his trousers.
His eyes are closed, and he's trying not to hear the voice screaming his name (a fake name he told her was his) and consentrats on the feeling of her around him. He can imagine, just for a moment as he comes that the girl beneath him is not Brittany Walters but the woman he loves.
''A-my...!'' He chokes as his climax hits him and she screams:
''John!''
Afterwards he leaves quickly, anxious to get back to his TARDIS and wash the smell of alcohol and perfume from his skin. When he's washed and dressed in his favourite pyjamas he creeps through his ship to Amy's room.
She's alone, her husband off visiting his dying grandmother while the other two wait in the TARDIS. He sighs as he watches her sleep, fantasies of holding her close and whispering sweet nothings in her ear clouding his mind.
He hates himself for loving her. He's not good, he's bad bad bad and he's already ruined her enough. Rory loves her, Rory is what's good for her.
She mumbles something in her sleep and rolls over. It's not Rory's name, it's his that passes her lips and she sleeps. ''Doctor...'' She almost moans, her eyes closed and her breathing increasingly heavy.
She's dreaming about him, and he's feircly happy. ''More...Doctor...Please...'' She pants, her delicate hands fisting her pillow and sheets. The comforter slips down to reveal her flimsey pink camisole and the Doctor licks his suddenly dry lips.
Almost without thinking he drags the chair from the desk underneath him and palms himself through the rough material of his trousers.
He can see her legs rubbing together under the blanket, trying to create the phantom friction of her dream. She whimpers and he has to bit his lip to keep from moaning.
The front of his trousers and hot and sticky with pre-cum as he shoves his hand roughly down them to work his now throbbing cock. He imagines his hand between her legs and her hand between his.
''A...my...'' He breaths as he strokes himself faster. Her breathing is even more erratic as her moans and whimperes fill the room. He can feel his orgasm coming and hear hers.
Just as he's on the brink of collapse, she wakes, breathing hard and jolting upright. Her head whips around to him sitting beside her bed, stroking his throbbing erection as he moans her name.
His eyes are scared as they stare at one another. Then she's there, kissing the corner of his mouth and coercing him into her bed. ''I'm still dreaming...'' She murrmers as their bodies press flush and he kisses her hesitantly.
They move together, stripping and kissing and touching. He's going slowly, still hesitant, still reluctant. She content with their pace. He wants to make love to her, not fuck her.
''Do you...Love me...Doctor...?'' She pants as he sucks and nips her breasts.
''Yes...so much...''
He pauses, his eyes boring intently into hers as his hot, wet manhood drags up against her inner thigh. He's searching for something in her eyes, and she assumes he find it for he kisses her deeply and eases slowly into her.
He's big, bigger than Rory or the few men she had before him but he's gentle gentle gentle. He's loving her, worshiping her and driving her slowly mad with pleasure.
His gaze is so intence and his touch so heated that it doesn't take long for her to unravell. He follows her and they collapse side by side, clinging to eachother's bodies.
When her arms feel like more than jello she raises herself to look into his face. His eyes are turbulent but when she looks at him he smiles and kisses her.
''You don't regret it do you?'' She whispers, hiding her face in his bared shoulder.
''No.'' He says, but there's hesitation in his voice. She sighs and he lifts he face. ''No.'' He repeats, this time steeling his voice and eyes. He kisses her intesly and she whimpers into his mouth.
It doesn't matter that she's married, or that he's nearly a a thousand years old because right now they're together, his arms around her waist and her lips agains his forehead. They can sleep now, wrapped and twisted and tangled so closley they can't tell where he ends and she begins.
It's perfect and broken and so achichly beautiful that his hearts beat painfully hard in his chest, he presses himself impossibly closer and relishes in her heat. He loves her. More than the entire universe and he can hardly stand it.
''Sleep, my Doctor...'' She whispers, somewhere close to his ear and he does, hyponotised by her heartbeat and hummed lullaby that almost has him choking up. He sleeps peacfully, happy and sated beyond anything he's ever felt. She strokes his hair and listens to his breathing untill she too sucums to a dreamless slumber.