Doctor who – Anything for science!

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.