Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 02

byKurokami©

He couldn't even brush his teeth...

Sander took a step forward, feeling very much like the first man to explore a strange new planet. In his own time, it had felt like all the frontiers had been reached, probed to completion and then colonized. Here, even the most extensively explored planet in human history was an alien world. The first step was always the longest...

So he walked through empty streets, and recognized them all, if only from monitors, and even then only from glimpses in perpetual motion. The Engine had built up an image of Amy's timeline through countless little snapshots of her history, the crosshairs settling on her with every one. And he had watched that slideshow from his personal monitor, end to end; it had been beautiful, in a surreal way. A person's entire life, in fast forward. And now he was standing in it, spotting it in little, subliminal flashes here and there; the duck pond that never had any ducks, the tree that a younger Amy had made Rory climb, playing at being the Doctor.

To him, the Doctor was... a complex concept. To her, the Doctor was a childhood game...

He blinked as he looked up. He had been so deep inside his own head, he hadn't realized... And he had inadvertently gone to the most dangerous place in the world. But really, it was the only place here that he knew how to get to.

Amy's house.

A twinge of something unidentifiable ran through him, close to fascination, mixed with fear. He shouldn't be here, he really shouldn't. Every second he spent this close to her was a risk, and if she saw him it would only get worse. He couldn't allow her to have lingering memories of him. Yet still, he stood there, his hands making their way to the little gate before the path, staring. Because she was more than just his greatest risk factor here.

No, she was his anchor. She might not know him now, but he knew her. The truth was, he was confronting the possibility that he might never make it back home, and in the ensuing mental chaos he'd take anything he could get. Because he was out of his element. He was a fish accustomed to a much larger pond, and Amy was the only recognizable thing that had been transplanted from his larger pond.

As sick as it was to even think about, she was all he had. And so he stayed put, soaked in the- rather unsettling, when one stopped to consider it- normalcy of his surroundings. Why was it that he was more at home running an operation that could at any moment become embroiled in the wrath of the last Time Lord, than simple standing here in this quiet English village?

'And how is my new best friend the drifter?'

Oh yes. That would be why.

He felt his shoulders stiffen reflexively, though he knew any sign of tension would reveal more than was strictly necessary. Concentrating, Sander kept his gaze focused straight ahead until he was confident he had arranged his expression into a solid poker face, before turning to regard Amy with what he hoped was a dispassionate stare.

'Best friend?'

She was dressed more normally this morning, but that wouldn't have been hard, after that garish police uniform. And he couldn't help but notice her bare neck, devoid of the collar he had kept her in for weeks. She looked somehow strange without it. Mundane. Amy Pond with her feet on the ground. Amy Pond who had never seen the stars up close, and when she smiled sweetly at him he had to blink.

'Well, I thought that since you know so much about me, we must be friends, right?' Her head tilted to one side, sickly sweet sarcasm dripping from her voice like treacle. That was closer to the Amy Pond he remembered...

'Oh, I see,' He nodded, stepping away from the fence. The morning sun beat at his back, and he was deeply aware that he might need an escape route, 'Funny.'

'Not really,' Now she frowned, and the expression was far closer to what he had remembered of her. 'What are you doing standing outside my house?'

Whenever he looked at her, he could feel his body priming, muscle memory lighting him up with adrenaline and endorphins. Perhaps he had become too used to seeing her in a certain light; their past interactions had been notably light on conversation, but heavy on a series of hot, lustful, powerful actions. He looked across, and for a moment all he could see was himself fucking her. But he knew he shouldn't; to even consider it was a sin against causality... not that he had ever cared about those, admittedly. He plunged his hands into his pockets as his fingers clenched into fists.

'I don't know,' Sander shook his head, eyes screwing shut. His head hurt, ached as though something too big for his skull was being forced inside. His teeth ground together, his palms ached, wanting to reach out and grab her and shake her, 'I really don't know. Awful early to be out, isn't it?'

It was a weak question, but he needed to turn it around, halt her questioning before it went too far. Of course, that wasn't Amy. No, it wasn't anyone who associated with the Doctor; he had slipped up one too many times the night before, and now she would be like a dog with a bone. Which only made it more completely idiotic that he had allowed his fears to bring him here. How pathetic...

'You're one to talk,' Tentatively, she prodded him with the tip of a finger, withdrawing as though she had been shocked a moment later. He understood the feeling; her touch had elicited a prickling across his skin, but Amy continued before he could question it fully, 'At least I look relatively normal. You look like hell.'

Though he wondered, briefly, whether she questioned every random, babbling stranger she met like this, but he also had to admit... He did look like hell. And felt it, with his prospects of returning home seeming dimmer than ever, and the feeling that he was standing at a tipping point in history flooding through his veins. Every second he spent here pulled the future further and further away from him, and yet...

He didn't want to leave. Of this entire world, Amy was the one thing he was at all familiar with, and even that relationship was twisted. His every interaction with her had been colored by sex, and as far as that should have been from his mind, Sander felt his muscles tense in preparation. Something inside him started growling.

He looked across, found her staring at him. Her eyes were wide, gaze intense, like she was inspecting him. He wondered what she was looking for, if she would find it... If she would remember this. Depending on one's interpretation of the laws of time, it could very well be that, since during their first meeting Amy hadn't remembered Sander, something must transpire between now and then to make her forget.

But then, Sander had been operating under the assumption that time could be rewritten, and that had worked out for him pretty well, until this...

'Um...' Against her better judgment, Amy moved a little closer. She felt her heart start to beat faster as the thin shadow of desire fell upon her again. This was getting to be more than a little unnerving; the second stranger in two days that she felt like jumping... and this time she didn't think she could stop herself.

Why was this happening to her?

'Yeah?' The- oh, she was painfully aware of this as her thighs clenched- stranger spoke, voice low. Before this strange process had started all over again he had barely been willing to look at her, but now his eyes never left, and they trailed her body without fear of being noticed. His gaze was like a physical pressure as it swept over her legs, left mostly bare below her shorts. Her skin prickled, and she found herself moving closer still.

'Okay, uh...' Sander's eye twitched, hands curling into useless fists at his sides. Something was wrong, like a cold influence prodding his mind. Amy's mere presence pressed down upon numerous primal buttons in his body, nearly driving him over the edge. Nearly driving him to attack her, right then and there... Had she always been so goddamn attractive?

Made him want to tear her shorts off with his teeth...

'Whoa...' He hissed, under his breath, as Amy drew in closer. She was flushed, looked dazed, drawing in deep breaths in a disturbingly sexual manner. Everything in his body yearned to just... grab her...

This was not right...

It must have been familiarity doing this to him, or perhaps the sudden uncertainty with which Amy was holding herself. He wouldn't be thinking this way of his logical self had been in control, but the way Amy edged herself toward him, all tentative yet at the same time oddly single minded, set his mind ablaze with possibilities. All her attention was focused on him, and that combined with her clear nervousness... It reminded him of how she was on Trismestigius.

'Um... Sorry about this...' Her words were strained, but her voice was low and shaking, breath catching in her throat. She was so close he could reach out and touch her, something she herself began to do, one hand reaching into the long shadow cast by her home that Sander occupied, fingers slipping around the collar of his shirt. The simple touch was...

The straw that broke the camel's back. All at once, Amy was pulling Sander in, and Sander was lunging at Amy. The force of their collision pushed Amy back a few paces, Sander's fingers digging into her as every barrier of common sense shattered. Their lips collided, seemingly intent on devouring each other. Both pairs of eyes remained open, Sander's boring into Amy as her own eyes darted nervously at the periphery of his form.

This was different from the last time. With Gwen, things had been hidden, surreptitious. This was out in the open, not only that, outside her home. What if her aunt picked this moment to open her curtains, or walk out the door? What if someone came sauntering up the road? The stranger's kiss set every nerve in her body ablaze with want, but some small part of Amy still feared being discovered. It wrenched her away from him before things progressed too much further; she could already tell that if things continued, she would allow herself to be taken right here in the street, and she couldn't have that.

Damn, she never thought she'd be longing for those hedges...

'Bedroom?' She quavered, keeping him at arm's length as her eyes darted to the door of her house. This early, her aunt would still be in, so she would have to be quiet... But it was better than out here.

'Oh, fuck yeah...' Sander growled, mind burning with desire and memory and her. His dwindling rational mind pointed out that she didn't even know his name yet, but he was hardly one to care. He tugged her through the gate and gave her a gentle shove ahead, watching as her footsteps sped up, driven by desperation all her own. This was new...

Sander was familiar enough with Amy's past, and he knew Leadworth to be one hell of an average English village, from top to bottom. Not for Leadworth the hidden secrets or seedy underbelly; the place was solidly normal all the way through. The people here had certain ideas on morality, and they talked to each other; Amy might already be one of the town's resident kooks, but this kind of behavior was beyond even her standard of common sense. As he ascended the stairs, following her to her room, he wondered whether this was the result of his presence destabilizing things, or something else...

He'd known Amy had a side of her she'd never expressed here...

His hands seemed to move on their own as they slipped through the doorframe. He grabbed her, fingers digging into her flesh and they spun. Sander pushed her back, into the closing door, the vibration of it slamming into place humming through Amy's skin as he pressed himself against her.

'Why?' He asked, voice hoarse between slipping his tongue against hers.

'I don't know,' She answered, unable to draw a complete breath in the interim between kissing and speech, though she hardly cared. The next sound she made was a short, stuttering moan as Sander pressed the palm of his hand up between her legs, through the crotch of her shorts. She shuddered, 'I don't care...'

Sander did, but in the moment he was more than willing to put his misgivings aside. His fingers had already slipped into the waistband of her shorts, and with his other hand cupping her sex, he relied on his weight against her to keep her in place against the door. Everything in him was a snarling mass of predatory hormones and heat, he found himself actively stopping himself from tearing those clothes right off of her.

'Mysterious stranger and the pretty young village girl...' He murmured, lips wandering the length of her collarbone and up her neck. 'We're only a torn bodice away from a harlequin romance novel here.'

'Yeah, probably...' She shivered, pressing her hips down onto his hand, frankly concerned that she was soaking through her shorts. 'Just... fuck...'

'Alright,' Sander winked, removing his hand from between her legs before placing both of them at either side of her waist. 'If you think you can handle me...'

He didn't give her time to reply, pulling her away from the door and, in a single fluid motion, throwing her bodily onto the bed. Amy's slight form careened over the end of the bed frame, springs squealing as did Amy herself, as she landed on her stomach. For a single moment, Sander experienced a strange feeling of dislocation; here was Amy, the sunlight making her skin and hair near luminous... A familiar sight to him, but today it was different. It was light from Earth's sun, lighting an Amy who had never been offworld, who was young, and jaded, and...

Oh, too much like him...

Still, he pounced on her, almost in the same second that he had experienced his strange feeling. He was on top of her a moment later, dragging her hips up into the air with an arm crooked under her belly. His other hand went to the back of her neck, keeping her pressed down to the mattress. All at once, his lingering desperation and isolation evaporated; this was something he understood. This was familiar, he knew how to do this. This was... what he liked...

'Blast from the fuckin' past,' He said under his breath, low enough that Amy couldn't hear it. The redhead was in the process of squirming in his grip, the soft, round curve of her ass pushing against his hips. She could feel his erection through his pants, it drove her wild. Her eyes were wide, wanting; that fiery arousal was back in earnest.

'Please...' She quavered. Sander felt his fingers tighten in her hair, possessively. Those familiar thighs tensed at his touch, her back arching, breasts pressed into the sheets. In this position her shorts were pulled tight against her backside, and Sander couldn't stop himself from running his fingers over that defined curve as they travelled up to her waistband. Amy opened her mouth to speak again, but Sander didn't give her the opportunity, yanking down the obstructive garment, down to her knees. The sight of Amy's ass, clad only in a thin, clearly well-loved pair of panties, made him want to tear those panties off with his teeth.

This was the most familiar thing he had done all day, but there was something slightly wrong with it, even so. It was the set of Amy's muscles, the tautness she exhibited, her panting breath and her stillness, like a coiled spring. It was eagerness, and that was... well, alien. Unfamiliar. It almost gave him cause to stop and think.

Almost.

Those panties came down, coming off entirely with her shorts, tossed disdainfully to the floor by a man far more interested in what they had been covering. That pert little bottom swayed in the air, a perfect moving target, just begging to, to...

Oh, just to have all the naughty things done to it...

'Do you even know why you're doing this?' Sander said, in a low voice, mostly to himself, but... partly to Amy. Part genuine inquiry; did she know why all this was happening? As he slid his fingers into her, felt her wetness against his skin, he rather doubted it.

'I... n-no...' Amy whimpered, burying her face in the sheets even as her hips pressed down, trying to gain as much contact with Sander's probing fingers as she could. Her voice thrummed with desire and nervousness, like she was in the middle of something she wasn't sure she should be enjoying. He could feel the tenseness in her muscles, a hair's breadth away from fleeing... or coming closer. Right now, her whole body was a contradiction.

'Just, I need... please, do it to me...' To actually ask for what she wanted, to articulate it, to acknowledge it in any way was a step too far for Amy. Sander could hear her struggling with it, unwilling to even recognize that there was anything else to do but lie there and take whatever he gave her. Her mind was frozen, paralyzed by lust, submitting to, well, anyone who would take her.

I know why... Sander thought to himself, and that was very near true. He had suspicions that he thought would pan out, a reason why both of them throbbed with near manic desire that made sense to him, but every part of him was so focused on her...

He settled himself up higher, on his knees behind Amy's trembling form. Eagerly, she moved back against him, pressing her ass into him even before he'd managed to free himself from his pants. He had never had less trouble with his belt and fly.

His cock sprang out, erect and aching, and moments later it was sheathed in Amy's molten, dripping pussy. Her entire body tensed inwardly, forcing his cock deep into her, to the hilt. She moaned, and automatically their bodies meshed into a kind of pattern; Sander's hand locked tight on Amy's neck, keeping her face down on the bed. A collar of fingers.

If Sander had retained enough functioning cognitive processes to examine this, he might have noted that he really had no good reason to do that; this wasn't the usual situation, he had no need to keep Amy down, just... a desire to be rough.

Even so, there was a moment of calm that seemed almost preparatory in nature. Sander and Amy were very still, the former buried inside the latter, with only the labored sounds of their breathing giving any indication of the pressure being exerted on each of them. Second by second, Sander resisted the urge to dig his fingers into Amy's hips, to drive himself forward, to squeeze and pinch and slap and bite and fuck until neither of them could feel anything but the quaking certainty of orgasm. He wanted to leave her sore and bruised, and if his theory panned out... so did she.

'Anyone home who could catch us?' He asked, body looming over hers. His first few thrusts were small and gentle, against every screaming impulse in his hindbrain, to give her the chance to speak and prepare before he made her scream. Still, he could see her hands balled into fists in the sheets, shaking with similar urges, 'Your parents?'

'My, uh-... My aunt...' She gasped as he thrust back into her all too welcoming warmth. Something in this registered as terribly wrong to Sander, but he couldn't quite place it and besides... there was fucking to be done.

Now his fingers did grip her, digging into the soft flesh of her hips as he ploughed through her, the force of that initial rough thrust enough to push Amy forward along the bed. Her head almost hit the headboard, and something evil and predatory in the man seemed to take this as a challenge.

They rutted like animals, all sense of decorum or aesthetics lost as the floodgates burst and bathed them in a rising tide of hormones and carnality. Sander exhaled heavily on each inward thrust, emptying his lungs as he filled Amy, to an answering panting breath from the young woman. The Girl Who Waited- was Still Waiting, he supposed- reciprocated thrust for thrust; not content with simply being the mortar to his pestle, she spread her long legs wider, made herself more accommodating to his girth, pressing her hips back against him with the kind of submissive enthusiasm he had never been able to coax from her in the past... future... whatever...

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