A/N I watched Womb yesterday, gosh is that a strange film. There are some very raunchy scenes with Matt, but it's spoiled somewhat by the incest...

All characters belong to the BBC

He rolled over to rest next to her, one arm draped over her midriff, so she could feel his panting breath on her shoulder. She looked at his lovely flushed face, and they both smiled up into each other's shining eyes. She could feel the blood start to pump back into her limp legs.

She turned onto her side and rested her hand against his face. He kissed her palm in response.

"Good morning to you too."


"The Savoy Hotel, London, 1905!" The Doctor indicated the elaborate building with a sweep of his white-gloved hand. Amy looped her arm around his and squeezed with delight.

"This is fantastic! I've always wanted to stay here. But why 1905?"

"Because, my dear Amelia, this is the year American millionaire George A. Kessler floods the central courtyard for his Venetian-themed "Gondola Party". It really is a sight to behold, after dinner the birthday cake gets brought out on the back of a baby elephant." He laughed with child-like glee.

Ever since they had let their guard down around each other, and accepted how they felt, he had been shamelessly giddy with glee. Amy had to admit to herself that she felt as though she could finally relax. But she could not stop herself being reminded of Rory. When the Doctor had mentioned Venice she felt a guilty swoop in her stomach, but she kept smiling, and hoped he had not noticed.

"But we don't have to be there." He teased, lowering his voice and glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. She elbowed him in the ribs.

"If it's that much of a sight that the TARDIS actually brings us where you want to go," he made an indignant face "then I think we can contain ourselves long enough to see it."

They entered through the elaborately carved wooden front doors, and swept across the carpeted lobby. Amy felt very grand in her long Victorian dress, with a feathered hat perched on her head. The Doctor was in his element, dressed to the nines in a dapper suit, with a shiny ebony cane in one hand and a gorgeous redhead on his arm.

She felt herself rise to the occasion. They were an impressive pair.

A member of staff greeted them, bowing respectfully.

"Good evening sir and madam. How may help you?"

"We would like a room." The Doctor tapped his cane against his polished black shoe, obviously trying to act the impatient rich snob.

"Certainly sir, may I enquire whether sir has booked…?"

The Doctor whipped out the telepathic paper, only showing a glimpse of it before flipping it closed again with a sigh. The man looked dumb struck, and Amy raised her eyebrow at him loftily.

"Is there a problem?" She enquired in her best English lady voice.

"N-n-no your highnesses," He bowed even deeper than before. "Please, do forgive me for not recognizing you immediately-"

A sharp hissing noise interrupted, and an older man with a much smarter suit stepped into the group, subtly nudging the stuttering porter aside.

"I'm afraid your usual room is occupied, but may I offer your majesties the new Penthouse Suite? It has rather marvelous views."

The Doctor seemed to contemplate this, before bowing his head in acceptance. Suddenly they were being whisked off to a luxuriously equipped bar, with offers of complementary Champaign as their room was prepared. They lowered themselves onto a plush sofa, allowing the waiters to skitter feverishly about them for a few moments. Before long they were alone.

Amy fell back into the cushions.

"Oh my goodness, I can barely breath." She put a hand to her rock hard abdomen, where the edge of the corset she was wearing pressed painfully into her.

"You didn't have to wear the corset." The Doctor told her, but he looked sympathetic all the same.

"Yes I did, the dress wouldn't fit otherwise!"

"But it must be so painful." His eyebrows knitted together with worry. Then his gaze seemed to travel downwards.

"No concept of health and safety, these Victorians." He was staring as if without realizing at her breasts, which were bulging out of the top of the corset. Then he blinked and turned away, exhaling quietly.

Amy noticed he had moved his hands so they rested in his lap. She looked at him shrewdly.

"Your bowtie is crooked."

He raised his hands to fix it, as she knew he would, and she took her opportunity to pounce, sliding her hand over the lump between his legs. He let out a bark of surprised laughter and snapped his knees together, locking her hand in place.

"You little minx!"

She cocked an eyebrow daringly, and his eyes darkened.

"What happened to containing ourselves?"

She wiggled the fingers of the hand trapped against his groin and he let out a rumble of pleasure.

Their lips found each other, languorously opening and closing, tongues darting out, breath mingling. His legs relaxed and she was able to move her hand, stroking up and down his length, pressing against the fabric of his trousers. She felt his weight shift slightly and then the warmth of his hand against her cheek. He pulled her further into the kiss, stroked her jaw with his thumb, and then began tracing down the ligaments of her throat.

She pulled at the lining of his trousers and felt him peeping out of the top. She traced his head lightly with the tips of her fingers, feeling the soft skin tremble at her touch. He moaned into her mouth, and then in a sudden movement, he ripped the top of her corset open. She gasped in surprise and pulled away.

"What are you doing? This is a priceless antique!"

He gazed at her through lust-fogged eyes, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling. There was something almost predatory about him that made her heart beat faster and her insides twist with desire.

"Oh to hell with it." She hooked a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him towards her, almost on top of her. Their kiss was hungry, animalistic, indecent.

He planted his hands on either side of her head and pushed himself up and away from her.

"Amy" His hair was wild, his eyes dazed. "Let's go upstairs."

"I'm fine here." She whined, sticking her bottom lip out sulkily. His eyes travelled to it and he swallowed.

"You might be but if someone walks in we could be thrown out of the hotel."

But don't they think we're married? She didn't say it out loud. The truth was, she was the one that was married. She couldn't bring that cold hard truth into the lovely carefree warmth they were enjoying together. So she gave in and let him pull her from the sofa.

"We're not looking very presentable." She worried aloud.

The front of her dress was hanging open, her lipstick smeared. His trousers had a very noticeable protrusion, and his hair was a messy tangle. He had never looked so adorable.

"We'll have to run up the servant's stairs." He frowned.

"What if we're seen by the servants?"

He tugged on her hand, bringing her right up close, so their faces were inches from each other.

"Then there will be a scandal!" He whispered.

They shared another panting primal kiss, before the Doctor wrenched his mouth away from hers with a disgruntled growl.

"Move fast."


A/N For the Doctor's outfit, imagine the tux he wears in Let's Kill Hitler, and for Amy's, imagine the dress she wears in the hotel in the Power of Three