Doctor Who Amy's Fantasies

Amy knew she could never - _would_ never - be with the Doctor. He'd made that painfully clear the night before her wedding. She was a human, he was a timelord. She had lived 21 years, he had lived close to 1000... she thought. She couldn't actually remember. It was some big number. She knew he must have lost countless people, friends, and probably lovers. She knew she could never understand the true extent of that loss - she wasn't stupid. She knew he couldn't face becoming attached in _that_ way to someone who he would almost definitely outlive - not again, at least. She knew she would age and he wouldn't. Yes, Amy knew all of that. But she still couldn't help but think about that kiss, over and over again. The way her body had pressed against him, the way his hair had felt entangled in her hands - the feel of her mouth on his and knowing exactly what she wanted and that she was so close to getting it.

Then he pushed her away.

Every time she thought about it it made her cringe. Even now, in the darkness of her TARDIS bedroom, it made her screw up her eyes in embarrassment. How could he do that to her? Nobody had done that to her before, and if someone was going to do it, there was nobody worse than the Doctor. He was the man her childhood fantasies had been built on. She could remember growing up and touching herself to the thought of him and his big blue box, which in her imagination was a sex den with an enormous bed and racks and racks of toys to amuse for hours. She imagined he would appear suddenly in her garden in the middle of the night and fuck her until dawn, breathing in her endless teenage body and making her cum until she was dry.

Yes, rejection by the Doctor was very hard to bear indeed. But she had to bear it. There was nothing that would get him to come anywhere near her. She had tried short skirts for God knows how long, and flirted her way up and down the control room to no avail. It had been months now since she'd had sex, what with her running away without Rory, and she was more desperate for it with each passing day - but she was resourceful and good with her hands, so on the nights she couldn't go without something, she made do. Tonight was one of those nights. The Doctor had been busy all day fixing the TARDIS after a bad energy displacement while they were in the time vortex, and he'd gotten all hot and bothered. Making her all hot and bothered. Dinner had been silent. Amy had escaped to her room as soon as possible.

She lay in her bed, listening to him still swearing away to himself down in the control room. She wished he would swear at her like that sometimes, but he was always civil at the least to her face. Scary sometimes, but never rude. She craved a bit of rude. She started to brush her hands lightly over her skin as she listened to him, grazing them across her belly through her pyjama top. This had become a pretty regular routine for her. She didn't want to go too fast.

She ran her fingers up and down her own arms, her neck, her chest, her tummy, and the outside of her thighs - all through her pyjamas. She loved how this part felt. If she did it lightly enough it almost felt like it was someone else touching her, lightly stroking her, almost tickling her - tonight, like most nights, she imagined it was the Doctor. She imagined he was lying beside her, propped up on his elbow. She imagined he was whispering in her ear what he wanted to do to her. She tingled, then her fingers brushed past her breasts and her hair stood on end, so she pushed up her shirt and started running her fingers in soft circles around her nipples. She could already feel herself getting warm and wet thinking about the Doctor cupping her boobs like she was, maybe rubbing a sucked finger over her nipples until they firmed up at his touch. She wanted to touch her mound already, wanted to press herself into her own hand and just writhe until she came good and fast - but she knew it was even better if she drew the whole process out. So instead she thought about the Doctor kissing her neck and down into her cleavage with those soft, unusual lips of his that she knew felt so good. She imagined his palm against the flat of her stomach, his long fingers splayed out so his pinky pointed downwards towards her growing dampness. She put her own hand where she imagined his to go and rubbed gently, her left hand still massaging her breast, more firmly now. Her hips started to push upwards as she inched her hand dangerously close to her pussy... then moved it quickly to her thigh instead. There was something cruelly pleasurable about teasing herself.

Her hand on her breast was starting to lose effectiveness as her blood started rushing to her folds and her mind became totally fixated on the sensations there rather than up top, so she also moved it to her thigh and ran both her hands up and down them, through her pyjama pants, keeping her knees firmly together. Then, ever so slowly, she began to part her legs and inch her fingers down the insides of her thighs, imagining the Doctor's hands there instead. When she got about halfway down she stopped and quickly sat up and whipped off her pants and her undies, seeing the Doctor's face in her mind's eye - as if he could not take it any longer and just _had_ to see her naked pussy.

Amy lay back down and resumed her stroking, with each stroke getting closer to what she thought now must be her totally dripping centre. Her legs parted even further and her hips pushed up whenever she got close. She imagined the Doctor, positioned on top of her, staring her right in the eye as she squirmed and whimpered under his teasing touch - but in real life she kept her mouth firmly shut so she didn't make a noise to alert the Doctor downstairs.

Soon she couldn't take it anymore. She needed pressure on her cunt. Taking her middle finger, she slowly rubbed along her slit, dipping in ever so slightly to get at her wetness. She was right, she was super wet. Her inner labia protruded through her outer lips ever so slightly, and as her finger brushed over them she wondered how much longer she could avoid touching her clit. She wanted to so badly, but she knew if this was the Doctor, this was the way he would tease her - by just stroking up and down over the outside and holding back from real satisfaction. She kept stroking, soon adding a second finger, until she gently parted her pussy lips and pushed her fingers into her moist pink inner lips.

Her hips strained upwards, angling for more contact, and she held back a little groan of pleasure. She hadn't even gone anywhere near her clit yet and she was still so hot. Instead, she just kept softly running her fingers in between her wet folds - not putting them inside and not rubbing her cherry, just teasing the folds. She started to add more pressure as she feel the pressure inside her building. God, she was so wet. All she wanted to do was let out a moan, but the Doctor had gone silent outside and she didn't want him to hear anything. If he knew the ways she touched herself with him in mind, thinking about him rubbing her folds with his fingers, pressing his hardness against her legs, smiling mischievously as her breathing sped up and she pushed herself up into his hand...

Fuck. She had to touch her clit. It was so swollen and ready. She pressed it with just her fingertips, meaning to start off gently, but it sent shocks of pleasure through her and made her eyes roll back. Her hips moved of their own accord, rolling in time with the circles she made on her clit. Her breath started to gasp out as she pushed harder, harder. She didn't want to moan but it felt so fucking good, she was so fucking close to coming and all she could think of was the Doctor, the Doctor, the Doctor...

She couldn't hold back her moan when she came. It had been a while and it came on so hard and fast she couldn't control herself. It was loud and long. She came so hard her mind went totally black. It was almost like the Doctor was there and had really fucked her, it was so fucking good. She'd never came harder while masturbating. She rode out the waves of orgasm, rubbing her clit as her panting slowed and her hips twitched with the pleasure.

Amy lay there in the dark, her shirt pushed up over her tits, her hand resting on her mound, and her legs wide open. Her breath started to return to normal and she felt the warmth of a post-sex sleep start to take her.

Then, suddenly, her door was thrown open and her light switched on, giving her no time to cover herself or even remove her hand from her clit.

"Amy, are you okay-OH."

It was the Doctor. She knew she shouldn't have moaned so loudly.


End file.

Doctor Who, Romance