A/N: This is an extremely confused genre I am calling "crackgedy." I am told that "cragedy" would be easier to pronounce, or perhaps "tragicrack." Which sounds a bit like "tragicock," a genre similar in spirit but less ridiculous. Tragicracock?
Anyway. It's a sex comedy. Mostly.
Amy and Rory looked at the new room the TARDIS had led them to, clearly a honeymoon suite, neither hiding their amazement. The bed was huge and heart-shaped, the kind they'd thought only existed in movies. The lighting was warm-toned like sunlight, though maybe not Earth's sunlight. There was even an array of…devices, and though they couldn't figure out the intended use of all of them, anyone with a dirty mind could make some interesting guesses.
"Do you think he knows what wedding nights are for?" Rory asked.
"Oh, I'm sure," Amy said, waving her hand. "He's spent enough time on Earth, right? He knew about the rest of the wedding."
"Well," Rory said, biting his lip, as if trying to think of a way to say this tactfully, "he thought he knew about dancing…"
"He danced! That was dancing!" Amy laughed. "And this…this ridiculous heart-shaped bed is where I make you Mr. Pond."
"That's…not how it works," Rory said, nonetheless smiling as Amy guided him to the bed and began undressing him.
Amy kissed him, and that was so terribly interesting they didn't argue about surnames anymore, or worry about where the Doctor was. Rory unzipped Amy out of her dress, and set about the small, lacy garments beneath: her strapless bra; her garter belt and garters and nylons; her frilly little knickers; like ornate packages holding peerless marvels to be stroked and kissed and adored.
They were both so absorbed in these activities that they might have missed the first knock at the door, or dismissed it as part of the rumblings of the TARDIS. The second, however, was unmistakable. Urgent. Demanding. Amy and Rory exchanged glances.
"I knew he—" Rory began.
"It could be important," Amy insisted. "He wouldn't just…"
Tearing herself away from Rory, Amy wrapped a shimmering golden sheet around herself, and walked to the door, uncomfortable from the rush of blood to her groin. This, she thought, had very well better be good.
"Hello, Amy," the Doctor said, all grins and cheer. "Hello Rory," he added over her shoulder, where Rory sat on the bed his tophat on his lap and a frustrated scowl on his face. "Mind if I pop in for a moment?" Rory coughed his objection to this from the bed.
"Well, actually," Amy said, deliberately sensual, "if you hadn't noticed, I am naked under this sheet, and was just about to shag my husband senseless. So unless you want to watch…"
But the Doctor's grin widened. "Are you really? That's splendid! Absolutely splendid. I'd hoped, of course, given the proper habitat, and customs and whatnot, but I wasn't sure—oh, this is delightful!"
"Proper habitat?" Amy said, suppressing a laugh. "We had no problem doing it in the bed we had before."
"Or the shower," Rory added helpfully.
"Or the corridors," Amy added. "Or the pool."
"Or on the ceiling, in that room with the non-Euclidean geometry," Rory said with a nostalgic grin.
The Doctor blanched. "Just tell me you didn't do it on the console."
Amy and Rory exchanged guilty looks.
"Well, that would explain the time I had to pull us out of the disco-themed timehole. Honestly, no one goes there unless they're steering with their arsecheeks." He brightened, and jotted down a note. "Habitat irrelevant to copulatory habits. Very adaptable. Urge to mate supersedes self-preservation," he added with a bit of a stern look. "Well, at least I know you know what you're doing." He squeezed in past her, pulled up a chair, and began pulling things from a small black bag that was actually a bit too small for its cargo, but one came to expect that from the Doctor. "Since nothing seems to deter you, I don't suppose you'll mind if I watch and take a few readings?"
Rory's expression at this was one of absolute horror, but Amy did not share it. The shimmering golden sheet found its way to the floor, and Amy stood before the Doctor wearing nothing but her lovely red curls. "Why didn't you say something sooner?" she asked. "It's not like this is our first time, really, and we'd have invited you in before if we'd known you were interested."
"You could ask before you volunteer my cock," Rory objected. "I am right here, you know."
"Oh, don't be silly. I wasn't planning on sharing your cock," Amy assured him.
"Well…good," Rory said somewhat unconvincingly.
"The Doctor doesn't really seem the type to want your cock. I was volunteering your bum without asking," Amy clarified.
Rory opened his mouth and made a sort of squeak. Recovering himself, he said, "You've got it all wrong. The Doctor so is not a top. He's the sort that just likes to lie there while you do stuff to him. I bet he even makes little noises."
"He does not," Amy said. "Do you?" she asked, turning to the Doctor.
The Doctor blinked, looking up from the notes he was taking down. "You're asking me? I thought this was part of your mating ritual."
"I thought you were part of our mating ritual," Amy said, pouting. "Come on. You can't be the only one here wearing clothes." She reached for his black bowtie, but the Doctor shied away from her hand.
"I hope there wasn't a misunderstanding," the Doctor said, backing away a bit hastily and bumping into the wall. "It's just, it's been a while since I've had a mating pair on board, and none of the others were keen on sharing, but I thought, well, you and Rory are so open, so progressive, you'd understand. It's for science."
"What," Rory cut in bluntly, "Didn't you have sex on your planet?"
"Oh, my no," the Doctor said, suppressing a laugh. "The proud and dignified people of Gallifrey, taking off their absurdly showy stiff robes and doing anything so…so…. No. They abolished that eons before I came along."
"Oh, you poor dear," Amy said, and hugged him. There wasn't really much opportunity for escape, backed against the wall as he was, but hugs he enjoyed, even from someone else's naked bride on her wedding night, with her new husband boring holes through him with glowering eyes.
"Is that why," Amy asked hesitantly, drawing back a bit, "…you know?"
"I do?" the Doctor asked, the picture of puzzlement.
Amy flustered around for the words. "I mean, if your people stopped having sex, is that why, well…there aren't any more of them?"
The Doctor looked stung for a moment, but recovered his composure quickly. "No, no, not at all, not even a little," he insisted. "We had reproduction. Very very efficient reproduction. You didn't even need to be there while it was happening! Just not sex. Your species has already begun to separate the two—you weren't planning on getting pregnant tonight, were you?"
"Of course not, with our lifestyle?" Amy said.
"Right. So you're having sex for sex. We had babies for babies. The two don't really need to go hand-in-hand. And while humans may be more populous even now than the Time Lords ever were, that's not actually a good thing, from a purely evolutionary survivalist standpoint. There's a reason I like to show up 20th century, early 21st century at the latest, it's after that that things start to really get unpleasant for a while. Outbreeding your resources is never a good idea. Another reason to control breeding externally instead o f going about breeding on whims all willy-nilly."
"Well, I'm sorry if our mating practices seem irresponsible," Amy said.
The Doctor shrugged. "Responsibility is overrated. Fun versus practicality? I should have been born a human. Willy-nilly is practically my middle name. If I had a middle name. I'm not actually sure which part would be the middle."
Amy trailed a hand down the Doctor's face thoughtfully, resting on his chest. "I could help you get in touch with your human side," she offered, ignoring Rory's flailing behind her.
The Doctor made a small choked noise in his throat, and put his hand over hers to restrain it from getting any more adventurous. "It sounds great in theory, I know, but it just wouldn't work like that."
"Told you," Rory interjected. "He makes little noises."
Amy smiled back at him. "You've been thinking about this as much as I have."
"You wish," he said, a tad defensively.
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you both, but I am here purely for observation." The Doctor picked up his notebook, and a few other gadgets he'd left scattered on the floor. "With your permission, of course. Neither of you will be harmed. And then I'll be on my way."
Amy paused, considering. "Is it a physical limitation? Are you built like us?"
"There are…some structural differences," the Doctor said vaguely.
"Now you've got me curious. I didn't get a very good look at your front the time I watched you changing. Though it was a perfectly nice bum."
"Do you have some kind of paraphilia?" the Doctor asked, looking at her suspiciously.
"I might. Trousers off."
"No!" the Doctor said, clutching his belt protectively.
"Well, this is a bit unfair," Amy said, hands on her hips. "You get to see me naked, and Rory. You ask to see us 'mating.' I'm not asking for anything more than we're giving, here, in fact, a good bit less. This is pure biological curiosity, okay? I want to see what you look like. For science."
The Doctor hesitated. "Oh, very well then." With an air of indifference, he disrobed.
"'Structural differences' my eye," Amy said. "I'd never know you weren't human if you didn't tell me."
"Well," the Doctor said in an injured tone, pulling his trousers back up, "that's because you're not a scientist."
"Does it work like a human's does? I mean, do you get—"
"It has much the same biological function, in theory," the Doctor said.
"What, this is theoretical science now?" Amy scoffed. "The theoretical science of the Doctor's boners."
"And those applications will stay theoretical. But for the practical portion of this experiment," he said, waving Amy towards Rory and the bed. "I believe you were busy before I came in. Please, don't let me interrupt you."
Amy cast the Doctor a longing look, and walked over to the array of naughty-looking instruments. She picked up something appropriately phallic.
"Wait, what are you doing with that?" the Doctor asked in a concerned tone.
"Getting this experiment started," Amy said. "I thought you said you wanted to observe human mating?"
"Yes, but," the Doctor said, a mix of worry and consternation, "I don't think you're going to need that. Unless human anatomy is very different than I'm remembering."
Amy looked just as confused. "Why did you leave sex toys in this room if you didn't want us to use them?"
The Doctor very nearly choked. "Sex toys? That's a hydrostatic modulator. I used it to put the fluidic lighting in. Very romantic ambiance. Forgot to put it away. Using it on a human body, though…bad idea. Very bad."
Amy hurriedly put the hydrostatic modulator down. "None of these are sex toys?"
"No," the Doctor said. "They're just my tools."
"Which begs the question," Amy said, "and I've been wondering it since I saw that thing you call a 'screwdriver.' Why do all your sciencey tools look like you bought them in a sex shop?"
"This," Rory chimed in, "is a very good question. And I'm glad I'm not the only one to wonder why the Doctor waves his dildo at things whenever we're in trouble."
"That's—" the Doctor sputtered, "that's completely inaccurate! It looks nothing like a human or Time Lord penis." He took the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and examined it. "A bit like the penis of the sandworms of Refusis 4, but I'm certain I've never been attracted to those."
"And this?" Amy asked, picking up another device left in the room.
"Don't be absurd, it's an interspatial socket wrench."
"This. Is a fleshlight," Amy said, prodding the quivering, soft opening.
"Only if you get off from having your cock electrobolted and twisted 380 degrees," the Doctor said. "If I had kinks, I'm very sure that would not be one of them."
Amy sighed. "Fine. We can do this the old fashioned way. We've got lots of practice at that." She settled in next to Rory, and ran her fingers down his chest, making him shiver pleasantly. "If you want to do any hands-on research, don't hesitate to ask," she added, and began kissing Rory's neck.
"Wait, we're not," Rory said, his tone a bit higher-pitched than usual. "Are you serious? With him sitting right there? Watching?"
"Rory," Amy said sternly. "Don't you have any sense of responsibility to science?"
"But…but…but…" Rory sputtered. "We can't."
"My boner seems to have become theoretical."
"Oh. Was it that interspatial socket wrench thing? Because if I had a cock, that would make it want to crawl up inside my body."
"It's the pressure, all right?" He gestured towards the Doctor, who was wearing some kind of complicated goggles with spare lenses akimbo and holding a scanning device on them, waiting for them to do something worth scanning.
"So what? We did it with your mum's cat watching that time."
"Right, that's completely the same thing."
Amy lowered her voice. "Don't you kind of feel sorry for him? I mean, nine hundred and seven years old, and the guy's probably never gotten laid. You being scared isn't helping any, he'll think there's something to be scared of, you'll give the poor fellow a complex. If we put him at ease, who knows, maybe he'll…loosen up a bit. Have some fun. Even if it's just with his hand."
Rory looked torn. "But what if…" he whispered in her ear. "What if I'm not…you know…good enough."
"Oh, Rory," Amy said, and she kissed him deeply. "Do you think I would have married you if you weren't a good fuck? You always make me come so hard."
Encouraged by this, Rory began kissing her, and with a bit of heavy petting, his erection had graduated from theory to hard science.
"I suppose this was inevitable," Rory said softly, his breath tickling the hairs on the back of her neck. "He was always here in some form. From the very start: you, me, and the Raggedy Doctor."
Amy was beaming. "That's always how I saw it too."
Rory began to kiss his way down her body, pausing to flick his tongue over and suck at a nipple, making Amy arch her back.
"Is that something all humans do, or just you?" the Doctor interjected.
Rory broke away from his task, and Amy huffed in frustration. "What, sucking her nipple?" Rory asked.
"Well, yes. Does that have a function?"
"You're the one with all the tech, you tell me what it's doing," Rory said, and returned his attentions to Amy with a playful nip.
"Increased breathing and heart rate, surface temperature rising…"
"Oh yeah baby," Amy groaned. "Keep talking science, Doctor."
"Er," the Doctor said. "I'm never sure if you're joking."
Rory worked his way down Amy's body, and buried his face between her legs, causing Amy to gasp sharply in pleasure.
"You're just…showing off," Amy said, breathing hard.
"You were willing to put me on display," Rory growled, somewhat muffled. "Let the Doctor see what old Rory can do."
"Oh god," Amy gasped. Her fingers were knotted in Rory's hair, but her eyes were fixed on the Doctor, staring down at her like a laboratory specimen, like something to be examined, dissected…. After a much shorter time than usual, Amy cried out in orgasm.
Rory looked up at her, smugly satisfied.
"So that's human mating?" the Doctor asked, looking a bit perplexed.
"Oh, we're just getting started," Rory said.
"I hope you've been taking good notes, Doctor," Amy said with a wink. "Rory's been teaching you some very useful things."
"Oh, yes, indeed," the Doctor said.
After a bit more of the kissing and stroking they called foreplay, they'd arranged themselves facing angled away from him, to give him the most informative view, Amy on all fours, Rory preparing to penetrate.
"Wait, wait a moment," the Doctor interrupted yet again.
Two annoyed humans looked back at him. "Changed your mind about joining in after all, Doctor?" Amy offered.
"What? No," the Doctor said, as though that were an absurd concept. "No, see, if there's going to be vaginal penetration, you need some kind of contraception. I can't have you dropping babies everywhere on my TARDIS."
"Oh, that's taken care of," Amy said. "I'm on the Pill."
"What? Oral contraceptives? The ones with an eight percent failure rate with typical use? And that's just typical, how do you manage to take a pill daily when your days could be anywhere from five minutes to never, depending on where we go and when, and that's not even considering that I just completely rewrote your personal timeline, so it's possible everything you think existed prior to now didn't actually happen, or it did happen but not in the way you think it did, or at the least chunks of it are missing—timey-wimey, wibbly-wobbly, baby-waby—no! I'll not have it."
"Wait, did you just spend all this time trying to watch us have sex, and then tell us we can't?" Rory asked.
"On our wedding night?" Amy added. "Don't be absurd. The Pill's fine. It's never failed me before."
"I am not having eight percent of a baby running around on the TARDIS, and that's final," the Doctor said. "But of course you can have sex, don't be silly. As it happens, I brought a foolproof contraceptive device, just in case." He began rummaging about in his pockets, and produced a metal ring with multicolored lights around the outside.
He walked to the bed, and awkwardly approached Rory. "You don't have these yet, do you? Let's see, I might have to show you how it's used." He made some calibrations using the outside ring of lights, occasionally glancing at Rory or his notes for information, and sprang the ring open on a seamless hinge. The inside was ringed with what appeared to be metal teeth. "It's worn like a cockring, but quite unobtrusive, I assure you. Better than condoms."
Rory shrank away in horror. "That thing has teeth." He quickly put Amy between himself and the Doctor.
"What, these—oh, no, no, these sort of, er, how to explain it to you…they don't exist completely on the physical plane, they're, er…like holograms." The Doctor ran his finger around the inside of the ring, passing it through the tines easily. "Painless, I assure you."
Rory shot Amy a quick 'help me' look. Amy looked like she was struggling not to laugh at his plight.
"I'm sure if the Doctor says it's okay, then it's fine," Amy said.
The Doctor gave his best coaxing expression. "Trust me?"
"I don't know what's more wrong, this whole thing," Rory said, "or the fact that I actually do trust you." He shuffled back over the bed to the Doctor, exposing himself, and turning his face away, eyes squeezed shut.
"That's a good fellow, don't worry," the Doctor said, fitting the device on. It expanded and contracted until it had settled into what it deemed to be a good fit. The multicolored lights flashed.
Daring to look down, Rory said, "What do all those lights mean?"
The Doctor shrugged. "I lost the manual."
"Have you ever used this thing before?" Rory asked, his apprehension rising again.
"Even if I were to have sex, who would I risk impregnating?" the Doctor said, a sort of angry, dark bitterness behind his words.
"So how did you even come by this device? Did you ever even have the manual? Are you sure it works?"
"A friend of mine left it," the Doctor said, getting flustered. "And yes, I examined it to make sure it was still functioning. I just don't know about all the bells and whistles. Knowing the 51st century it's probably a combination contraceptive device, coffee percolator and death ray, but I didn't need all those features for this experiment."
"Death ray?" Rory repeated incredulously. "Death ray?"
"No one's getting shot, or getting their genitalia nipped off," the Doctor said in his best reassuring tone.
"Wait, what?" Rory squeaked. "I changed my mind, get this thing off me."
"Well, see, that's the thing. It'll come off on its own when you finish," the Doctor explained.
"But you can get it off sooner," Rory insisted. "You can get it off sooner," he said again, with less certainty.
"Bells and whistles," the Doctor said sheepishly. "I didn't have time to figure out every single feature."
"So use your sonic!"
"You want me to randomly start sonicing a device of questionable properties that is affixed to the base of your penis," the Doctor said slowly. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
Rory yelped suddenly. "What is it doing now? Vibrating?"
"Your enthusiasm was flagging," the Doctor explained. "It's a very helpful marital aid."
"I knew he'd do this," Rory hissed to Amy. "Letting him into your love life is like letting him into any other part of your life. It seems like a great idea, and who can say no to that face, but then he starts with his tinkering and his meddling and somehow suddenly everything's life-and-death."
"He's gotten us both killed," Amy whispered back, very softly, embracing Rory tightly. "And we died for him gladly. I still remember dying. I was so sad—not sad that I ever went with him, sad that it was over so soon. So what do we have to be afraid of now? What is there left to fear?" She pulled him down on top of her. "We chose this, Rory. Even the parts that are a bit mad. And tell me that thing isn't turning you on even a little."
"When this is all over," Rory said, "I have the feeling I'm going to need therapy. Or guns pointed at me in order to get an erection."
Amy laughed. "We'll end up doing it in hostage situations and on tightropes."
"Oh, baby," Rory groaned, pushing into her. They went at it for a minute or two, Rory mostly pretending not to notice the Doctor back in his seat watching and taking down data, but showing off a bit just in case, and Amy also showing off, but without the pretending.
The cockring started to beep. Rory's rhythm halted, and his eyebrow twitched. "What does that mean?" he called back to the Doctor.
"Probably nothing. Keep going," the Doctor answered.
Rory hesitated, but at Amy's encouragement, continued. About thirty seconds later, it began beeping more insistently.
"Is it a countdown? God, please tell me it isn't a countdown," Rory groaned.
"Maybe it's a metronome," Amy suggested helpfully.
Rory seemed to grudgingly take the suggestion, when it began beeping arhythmically and throwing him. "Oh, really now," he said, as the beeps increased in volume, urgency, and incoherency. "Fuck this thing," he said, stopping for a moment, then buckling as it vibrated insistently, as if objecting to the pause in action.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Amy said, and she pushed Rory over on the bed and straddled him. "Just hold tight, I'll get that thing off you. Try to relax."
The cockring mostly shut up, and settled into a pleasantly resonant, subtle sort of vibration. Rory's hands slid down her hips and settled, rubbing her clitoris with his thumb in time with her rhythm. Finally, the two were making more noise than the intrusive bit of technology, though it still let out the occasional chirp, sounding almost pleased.
And for all the complications and distractions, there really was some part of them that liked it better like this: the vague threat of death or dismemberment, and the Doctor watching in a detached but fascinated sort of way. It was that sharp tang of fear mixed with the desire to perform, a heady mix of the two forms of panic drowned in lust.
So it didn't take them that long at all, and they screamed and grunted and yelled for all they were worth, because it was their wedding night and they could, because they were alive, and because there was no one else in the TARDIS but the three of them, so they had no reason to be discreet. With their final cries, the cockring emitted a prolonged, high-pitched tone, and opened up, falling onto the bed harmlessly. Rory tossed it across the room like it might bite him.
Afterwards, they lay breathing hard, and Amy said, "Amy two, Rory one, Doctor zero," with a coy look towards the Doctor. Still snuggled up to Rory, she held her hand out to the Doctor, saying, "Come here."
The Doctor hesitated. "I don't know if that's…"
"Mm, no, even if you suddenly changed your mind, I'd be too tired to do anything. Just come here a moment." She looked him in the eye searchingly. "Trust me."
So he came to her, and sat down on the bed. Amy took his hand in hers, and gave it a light squeeze. "I remember something," she said. "When Rory died," and here Rory's embrace tightened reassuringly, "and I was starting to forget, you tried to fight it. I didn't think about it at the time, because everything was so confusing, and that whole moment was just this big knot of sad I didn't understand. But then later, when I woke up in the Pandorica. I just knew things. Somehow. And I don't know how to explain it, but they felt of you. Like you'd left your fingerprints in my head."
"What are you getting at, Amy Pond?" he asked uncertainly.
"You're a telepath."
"Yes. Is it a problem?"
Amy smiled. "Not at all. I was wondering why you don't use it more often."
"Wouldn't be fair, you being human and all. It'd probably be overwhelming for you."
"I'm not complaining."
"And it's…" he hesitated, as though no word were quite right, "intimate."
"Doctor. You got a lot of data tonight, I'm sure. But does any of this tell you how Rory and I feel right now? Because it feels so good, and it'll be gone in a few minutes. I think some things need to be experienced to be understood." She kissed his hand. "I want you to feel this. Please."
There was still a sense of reticence in him, of being afraid of getting drawn past some invisible point of no return, of making a mistake that maybe he wouldn't be the one to pay for. So his hand shook a bit as he brushed her hair out of her face, gently resting his palm on her cheek, with his fingers splayed through her scalp.
Rory put his hand over the Doctor's, and for a moment the Doctor looked at him as though he was afraid he'd crossed a line after all and Rory was telling him to stop, but his expression changed as he understood the true meaning of it: me too.
Their minds opened up to him: Amy's eager, pouring every bit of pleasure and relaxation into him, making him slump happily against them on the bed; Rory's less forceful, but nonetheless an open, unguarded invitation to share everything that was his.
When Amy tried to see if the connection ran both ways, if she could see into that eternal mystery that was the Doctor's mind, she found it was like trying to dive in saltwater: an immense, gentle force kept pushing her back to the surface and never let her get too deep. She wasn't even sure if it was something he did consciously to keep her out, or if she just wasn't telepathic enough to manage it.
But she didn't need to be telepathic to see the look of relaxation and contentment on the Doctor's face. She felt a swell of happiness at that. Still, through the pleasant haze, she felt somehow inadequate, with her few moments of bliss set against everything the Doctor carried.
She felt him pick up that thought, but he didn't answer it, though she thought she saw a bit of sadness on his face that wasn't there a moment before—although really that was always there, just around the edges, something that could only be seen out of the corner of one's eye, and maybe she was imagining it now anyway.
Sleep pulled at her, both in her afterglow and the echoes of Rory's, an elemental, irresistible force like being dragged into the wake of something massive, enveloped by it. Amy fought it halfheartedly, keeping her eyes open to monitor the Doctor, to see if he felt that same pull, if he would spend a night in their dreams. She wanted him to, very much. She had no idea how much sleep he got, but felt somehow sure it wasn't enough, and didn't envy him his dreams, whatever they were. Sleep was a pleasure of the body too, and a more pressing one than even sex. Nonverbally, she felt an agreement on this from Rory—it was their job to look after the Doctor, to make sure he slept, to make sure he smiled sometimes. In a sense, they were more his custodians than he was theirs.
Before she succumbed, she saw his eyelids droop, and felt a sense of victory, even though she knew he wouldn't be there in the morning.