Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 02

Every now and then, Amy would crane her neck, pushing up against his hand around it. In return, Sander would squeeze a little tighter and add more of his weight to that hand, keeping her down. On any other day he would swear that she was struggling, trying to escape from his grip, but today, no... today there was a tentative, challenging feel to the way she pushed; she was actually enjoying the feeling of being restrained like this.

And then there were the sounds she made...

When Sander dealt with Amy in his native present, when he ventured into that cell and put that collar he had put her in to good use, these were the sounds he wanted to hear from her. He realized that as he heard the tenor of her moaning here in her room; whenever he had sex with her then, so far away and completely beyond his grasp now, he wanted her to sound like this. To moan like this; conflicted yes, perhaps even a tad fearful... but undeniably pleasure filled. Whether she could fully accept it or not, Sander could tell just from her voice that Amy was awash with sensation, and her equal reaction to his every thrust spoke louder even than that.

Unbidden, his hand reached out, pulled her shirt up, letting it bunch up by his other wrist. Just to see her naked, to see her stripped and bare and vulnerable and his. It was... fitting; she should be naked, where he was mostly clothed. His eyes skated down her soft, pale back, watching the sweat bead on her skin as all sorts of pleasant parts of her jiggled with each thrust.

The sights, the sounds, the feel of the future companion's warm flesh beneath him... A feeling of undirected, raw, violent need rocked Sander's core, and with nowhere to go he earthed it in what was in front of him; he leaned in low, his chest against Amy's back, and sank his teeth into her shoulder. She cried out, catching herself mid sound and clenching her jaw shut against the sensation as the tang of salt filled Sander's mouth.

'Mmm, fuck!' Amy grunted, hips jerking wildly at a particularly deep thrust. Over time, as he fucked her, she had worked her head around so she could look at him, her cheek against the sheets. Her eyes had closed, and Sander got the feeling that some part of her was still rejecting the idea of letting herself do this with a total stranger, but they opened as his teeth loosened and let her go, before he drew back up into a kneeling position. Cool brown eyes regarded him with flickering passion and some other, unidentifiable thing...

'Who are you?' She panted, but her voice was unusually steady, given that she was also coital. If there was one thing Sander knew, it was what Amy sounded like when she was being fucked, and it was nothing like this. She continued, 'I don't remember you...'

And that was it. He felt himself frowning, and though he never stopped working in Amy's molten depths for even a second, Sander tightened his grip on Amy's neck, his other hand trapping one of her wrists to the bed sheet.

'Oops, you fucked up, didn't you?' He growled, still inches away from her, holding her down on each point. 'Still haven't gotten the hang of how humans talk, hmm? I knew there was something else surfing around in Amy's head. What are you?'

Amy's face scowled for a moment, the expression dulled somewhat by the dark blush that had spread across her round features. Those eyes darkened, though the anchoring influence of the pair's fucking remained present, in the gasping of her breath, and the heat still in that gaze.

'How could you tell?' The thing that was inside Amy relented, grudgingly. 'I was led to believe you humans were ignorant of us.'

'Time traveler,' Sander said darkly. 'Deal with it. And I say all this because I know there's no chance of you letting Amy remember all this when it's over. Now let her go.'

'Time traveler? So then you must-'

'Let her go so I can finish!' He pressed down on her neck hard enough to make her gasp for air. 'You're damn right I know her. And I'm going to get you out of her, whatever you are. Partly because when I know her, she doesn't act like this... But mostly because I don't appreciate you tinkering around in my head either. Oh yeah, I noticed. I don't usually get the urge to have angry sex with someone who could collapse my timeline by speaking to me! Now, let her go, so we can conclude this little business!'

The change about her was visible, the direction melting from Amy's mind, replaced only by the sex. Instantaneously she was re-immersed in her submission, open and ready to take his cock. Not that Sander had been slacking off himself; even during the previous exchange, the changes being wrought on his body from without had driven him on. He had continued fucking the young woman below him even when she hadn't been mentally present within her own body.

But now there was a definite edge to his thrusts, an angry energy that wasn't there before. Though he could hardly blame Amy for what was happening to the two of them- and it felt so fucking good the idea of blaming anyone could hardly be considered justifiable- but Sander hated the idea that he was being manipulated, and the simple fact was that he would not have jumped into bed with Amy like this on his own.

The whys and wherefores of the situation would have to wait; Sander needed to gain some distance and get his head on straight before he could properly consider the situation. This close to her and... whatever else there was in there with Amy, he was an animal and very little else.

She was looking up at him out the corner of her eye, her expression lost in pleasure. She seemed... locked on him, somehow, stuck on his presence above her. Sander had never seen her like this before, so absorbed in him; he figured that it probably wasn't even him specifically, just whoever could be above her. Whoever could hold her to the bed like this and take her...

Amy wasn't watching him, she was watching her dominator. And she wasn't watching out of suspicion, as she rightly might have, given that a stranger was holding her down and fucking her far too hard to be completely healthy. No, she was watching to get off, watching to see him holding her down.

The question then became, was it the thing inside her mind that was doing this, or was it Amy herself? Her previous behavior- still a thousand years away from happening- was strong evidence for the latter, but there was still the seed of doubt in Sander's mind...

'So...' He growled, drawing close enough that she could feel his breath, hot on the back of her neck. 'Do you do this often, Amy?'

He had slipped up again he knew, said her name in the heat of the moment, but it wouldn't matter, wouldn't even be recalled in the long run. It was so clear just from looking that all that was left of Amy was a writhing, fucking, moaning body, with a mind floating off somewhere else inside her, banished to some dark place in her mind, without fear of being seen and judged, without responsibility or expectation, without the eyes of the town upon her. She was free, and entwined with her pleasure.

Oh yes, Sander knew this version of Amy...

'Fuck... fuck... fuck...' Her voice was indistinct, brought out through shaking breath. She was beyond answering his question, '... More.'

'Oh, I'll give you more,' The want in her voice spurred him on, and in a fit of near maddened lust he gripped her shoulders and spun her, still buried in her cunt. Her soft flesh jiggled enticingly as she was pushed onto her back, gasping at Sander's sheer forcefulness. Her legs naturally spread to fit his thrusting hips, and his hand went to her throat, like pieces of a puzzle fitting together. Amy whimpered at the pressure his grip exerted.

'You know, I'm a total stranger to you...' Sander's voice was rough, and he paused long enough to force his tongue into Amy's mouth. Though by now it wasn't a surprise to him, it was still a new experience for Sander to feel the redhead kiss him back, 'I could do anything to you. Anything at all, and you brought me up to your room and dropped your pants...'

'Please...' Amy panted, desperation edging her voice. She bit her lip, but couldn't stop herself from crying out anyway as Sander slammed into her, hips grinding against his, 'Then do anything to me... I want- oh god!'

She came suddenly, without warning. Sander felt it ripple through her, making her pussy contract down on his cock, ripping a groan of pleasure from his throat. He had never been able to just watch Amy cum before- not when there were the logistics of keeping her compliant to think about- and he found himself watching now with great appreciation. He watched as her muscles tensed and shuddered, her hips in particular winding tight as a spring. Her whole being seemed focused there, in that one trembling part of herself, enflamed with pleasure.

His body moved so naturally, with barely a single conscious thought; their pieces fitting together with ease. In the first moment of Amy's orgasm his fingers had tightened around her throat, making her eyes widen. Her breathing stopped, but her orgasm didn't. Sander's gaze swept up her body, locked with Amy's, stayed steady as the redhead whimpered, the sound restricted and choked by the insistent pressure of his grip.

He could feel her muscles clench down on him, thighs gripping his hips, the walls of her pussy milking his cock, entire body shaking with the effort of maintaining this level of tenseness. The seconds dragged on, ticking by and through it all Amy remained breathless; the idea of letting her go never even entered Sander's head. They never stopped fucking, she never stopped cumming, and he never stopped choking.

Thirty seconds passed, a minute, and Sander became convinced that whatever presence had shacked up in Amy's mind had a hand in her current reaction, in the length and intensity of her climax. Amy had always been easy to get off, but she had never before been this orgasmic. It must have been affecting him too, gluing his fingers in place around her throat, thoroughly eroticizing the mere act of domination. Amy grew paler, and Sander... loved every second of it.

Still shuddering in orgasm, a shadowy look fell over Amy's face, the first inklings of fear sparking in her eyes. They were in a place they'd never been before; beyond simple sex, beyond pleasure and pain. The point beyond "no, don't," and into "oh god, help me" territory. Sander could see it in her eyes; there was fear there, that he wouldn't let go, and resignation too. In that moment he could see her brain ticking over, thinking that it would be worth it to keep feeling the pleasure he was giving her.

At that moment, Sander pulled out of her in desperate haste, his own orgasm spurred on by the sheer power he held over her. He growled in satisfaction, the tips of his fingers now digging into her neck as his cum spurted out onto the smooth, trembling skin of her stomach. After a moment of tense stillness, he released her.

Amy drew in a great, heaving breath, her body going limp as some modicum of control returned to her. Sander dropped heavily to the bed beside her, the fingers of his right hand going naturally to rest on the bare skin of Amy's collarbone, keeping the two of them in contact even as the dust settled. She didn't seem to mind, but the truth was that as the fog of arousal lifted slowly from Sander's mind she was still his only lifeline to the world he knew.

The silence was broken only by their labored, heavy breathing. Outside, it was still early morning, although by now the sounds of activity had begun filtering in through the window. Sander was dismayed to realize that, even with the morning rush, Leadworth still only hosted only the occasional human sound passing on the road by the house. Just judging by his one day here, he would have sworn the population of the entire town was three.

Beyond the door, he could hear Amy's aunt going about her business, and again he got the inkling that there was something terribly wrong with that, but he could barely lift his head off of the bed, let alone devote the mental energy to think about it in any detail. Perhaps she would open the door and find the two of them sprawled out in post-coital exhaustion; Sander doubted he would even notice. He doubted he would even be awake to notice.

It might have been the sting of Amy's alien presence, but the truth was that sleeping under a tree had not been the most restful experience of his life, and finding himself on a proper bed elicited desires to do one of two things, and he had just gotten through with having sex. So he could barely muster up the energy to attempt to stay awake, as the cloying stupor of sleep enveloped him... *************

'Oh good,' He sighed, as the act of waking up failed to transport him back to his home. He opened his eyes, Amy's room slowly floating into focus around him. The redhead herself remained curled up beside him, utterly dead to the world, her breathing steady and rhythmic. She looked oddly peaceful, a state Sander wasn't used to seeing her in, even leaving aside the strange feeling of waking up beside her. Experimentally, Sander ran a pair of fingers down the bare curve of her shoulder; despite the many highly detailed things he knew about the woman, he had no idea how light a sleeper she was. That fact was somewhat shameful, but he was relieved to find that he could, in fact, get up and move around without waking her.

'Pond...' He sighed, lamenting the fact that he couldn't even get stranded in the past without some Doctor related work presenting itself to him. Whatever had happened to Amy, he was the only one who could put it right; the Doctor himself wouldn't be back for years and, even when he did return, it would be to an Amy unhindered by mental invaders. It had to be him.

Unless Amy had been carrying this... thing in her, dormant and hiding, the entire time. If it had been lurking silently in her mind the entire time, how would he know? How would any of them? Would even the Doctor have been able to detect it? Quarantine protocols on Trismestigius had been lax, it would have had no trouble blending in, maybe even moving on to a new host once it had made landfall on a planet with space travel...

What should he do?

There was no use waiting around here, though. One thing was certain; he shouldn't be around when Amy woke up. Too many questions, too much awkwardness... He didn't feel like dealing with it even if every interaction he had with Amy didn't threaten to destabilize both of their timelines. Come to think of it, how could he even accomplish this new task set before him without coming into contact with Amy again? Maybe it was already too late for him.

Maybe he really was trapped.

He straightened up his clothes, eyes searching around the room before settling on the clock by her bedside. He had slept for some hours, and it was now after midday. In some ways it was a good thing- by now the house had to be empty, for one- but in others, it was bad; every second that passed with him still in this time period took him further and further from the chance of rescue. He figured their slumber hadn't happened naturally, rather, it must have been a kind of defense mechanism of the creature in Amy's head, the sting of a telepath.

But it had given him an important clue. There was no reason for it to knock them out like that unless it was buying time, and it wouldn't need that unless it had gotten what it wanted. It had to be parasitic, or at least symbiotic; why else would it hide in the consciousness of another, rather than simply overtaking Amy completely? No, there was something this thing needed... And there were plenty of intangible creatures that made their homes in bodies that fed or preyed on exactly what he and Amy had been doing moments before they had been knocked out. Sex parasites, draining out orgasmic energy or... specialized fluids from their hosts and their partners in turn. It would certainly explain Amy's strange behavior.

Of course, that kind of infestation was never healthy to the host...

It needed fixing. But that needed planning, specialized equipment... stuff he could never obtain in this time period. Without some luck, or access to Torchwood anyway.

Silently he slipped out of the room, making sure to close the door behind him before he descended the stairs. Though he was fairly certain that he was alone in the house, he still kept a careful eye out for Amy's aunt-...

Oh.

Yes. Yes, that would be it...

As Sander had taken in his overview of Amy's life, he- and more importantly his machinery- had taken note that things seemed... incomplete, somehow. Inconsistencies in her past began popping up, one by one transforming into glaring paradoxes that were utterly inexplicable. And so Sander had gone to great lengths to peer into the event horizon of a collapsing universe, and he had seen the truth.

Amy and her parents. That had been her second attempt at life; the first had included those fascinating, life devouring cracks in time, and an aunt that had taken care of her in lieu of her at the time missing parents. That aunt continued to exist in the universe Sander had taken to thinking of as his native reality, but she had never lived in this house.

The machinery of Sander's mind spun frantically, panic rising in his chest. If dear old aunt Sharon was here, that meant he was currently sitting in a universe apart from his own, destined to collapse in on itself years from now. A universe that technically never existed at all, and he was just beginning to parse that logical impossibility when the sheer stone cold fact of it sent his mind to a complete halt.

His crew had no way of reaching through to a parallel dimension. Without the use of a void ship and incredible luck, it might not even be possible, given that- once again, his eternal hindrance- the Doctor had sealed the walls of the universe years ago, and with the Eye of Harmony gone forever, time locked in the eternal Time War, there was very little chance of them reopening. He might actually be stuck here...

No. No, he couldn't allow himself to give up. Defeat wasn't something he understood; he hadn't spent sixteen years and countless man hours plotting to defeat the Doctor for nothing, let alone built up the kind of life he had just to throw it all away at the first catastrophic setback.

Besides, he had faith in two things; his team's drive to keep searching for him, and his own ability to solve problems. He had built a machine to cut people out of time like some kind of causal fabric swatch, for god's sake. If he could do that, he could bust out of one measly universe, easy.

Even if it took him years, he would find his way home.

Sander worked well with facts and plans, and now he at least had some more of the former. There were tasks to complete, and so long as he had a goal, his mind could arrange the facts into a workable plan. So when he found himself pausing at the bottom of the stairs, he knew it had to be for a reason. There was something he was missing...

Well, what was the difference between this reality and his own? No parents for Amy, no ducks in the pond, and...

Yes. Too many rooms in Amy's house. And a door cloaked in a perception filter...

'Okay, I can work with that...' Cautiously, he turned in a circle on the landing, facing the offending door as though it might explode. It was such an unassuming thing; but the wood was cloaked in a perception filter. The only reason his eyes didn't skip over it was because he already knew it was there. And in five year's time, that door would open for the first time, and Amy would walk through it. That would really be the beginning of the end for her...