Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 04

byKurokami©

'From the Doctor,' Sander shrugged. 'You're not crazy, first of all. He's real, he's still alive, and in about two, three years, he's coming back. And when he does, he'll destroy your entire life.'

Amy opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. So many thoughts jostled for position, the words built up before they reached her tongue. After so many years of... waiting, and denying that she was waiting, after countless cycles of hoping, and giving up hope... Something had come. But it wasn't her Doctor. And he wasn't saying the right things.

'You're lying.'

'You're misinformed,' Sander said, the words closer to a growl then outright speech. He stood, and Amy had to fight the urge to step away as he drew in closer. 'Which isn't terribly surprising. After all, the Doctor's one of the most convincing conmen I've ever seen. But once you see through him... the luster never quite returns. He tarnishes himself too readily.'

'I don't...'

'Understand, no,' He was on a roll now, as he so often was when discussing the Doctor. Hatred made him eloquent, though the intensity of his gaze was clearly scaring Amy. He tried to tone it down; this was an opportunity to help a lost soul before she became ensnared in the Time Lord's web, 'And that's the way he likes it. It's a trick, so when you travel with him you see only the side of the universe that he wants you to see. You start seeing the rest of the world as a kind of sideshow, one big jaunt with the crazy travelling man. But he doesn't care, about you, about anyone. If you follow him, you'll die.'

Without realizing it, they had been walking; Sander stepping forward, and Amy taking an equivalent step back. Her back hit the wall, and he kept coming, body against hers. That odd sort of feeling had begun to well up in her again, hot and dense, desire in an insistent form, somehow out of her control. Amy could feel every muscle in the strange man tighten, and the look in his eyes told her that he could feel it too, and certainly recognized it. Unbidden, memories of being held down and stripped filled her mind; twice in one day...

Sander's eyes narrowed, he focused on his breathing; he could feel the tendrils of the creature that had set itself up in Amy's body wrapping around his mind, the feeling quite akin to immersing oneself in oil. It clung to his mind, prodding at him, filling his head with images of... oh, clothes hitting the floor, hot flesh squirming against him, a sweet, sticky taste on his lips...

But he suppressed it, the insistent weight of his curiosity and the need to... well, rant, allowing him to at least put the growing prurient desire to one side, for the time it took to speechify, anyway.

'It's what he does,' His voice had become a low growl, and he was close enough to feel her breath blow hot against his face, through her parted lips. The urge to kiss her was almost unbearable, 'He takes ordinary people and drags them through time and space, makes them face danger so many times they become numb to it... and then he leads them to their deaths. Again and again... and he knows. And he does it anyway. He'll come back here to impress you and take you with him, but he won't even care about the years he left you abandoned... so don't go with him...'

With a tiny, almost imperceptible whimper, she pushed forward to kiss him, her breasts pressed into Sander's chest; for a moment the building tension in their heads slid together, and he kissed back... but only for a moment. With a shake of his head, Sander's fingers curled around Amy's shoulders, pressing her back against the wall, keeping her at arm's length even as his mind screamed at him to continue. He gritted his teeth; it wasn't his inner monologue speaking.

'No...' He said through clenched teeth. 'He'll get you dead, if you go with him. Do you trust me?'

He asked it though she had no reason to. Of course.

'Not for a moment,' Her answer came fast, but low and quiet, and he could see the muscles in her jaw tense as she tried, as hard as he was, to keep herself from kissing him again.

'Do you trust him?' The follow up snapped out of him before he could stop it. This was delicate ground, an exposed nerve that he was jumping on even by calling the integrity of the Doctor into question to begin with. But how many times had the Girl Who Waited questioned the Mad Man in the Blue Box? How many times had she wondered what was taking him so long?

'No,' Her answer came less readily that time, but it was no less honest than the first. Sander grinned in response; it was a start. He looked down, blinked; his hands had gone to the curve of Amy's hips, holding her in place as her own hand slipped down his chest, her soft brown eyes filled with equal parts doubt and desire as she spoke again, tremulously, 'Why am I...?'

Well, that was obvious; the creature in her mind was hungry again...

A parasite that feeds on orgasmic energy... thank you, evolution...

'Alien in your brain,' Sander murmured, finally allowing himself to give in to the pressures the creature's low level psychic field was exerting on him. His lips brushed hers, as his fingers tightened on her hips, 'But don't worry, I'm going to deal with that.'

Any questions Amy did have were stifled, snuffed out before they could be voiced, as his tongue slipped into her mouth. Barely restrained even before this, the sudden action broke the floodgates, and she suddenly lurched forward awkwardly, body against his, arms wrapped around him with all the awkwardness one would expect from a small town teenager. Not too many boys around to practice this on...

After far too long locked in this temporally complex embrace, Sander finally pulled away to take a breath. Amy's eyes shifted nervously to the left, where the alleyway provided a straight shot out onto the street, perhaps too far away for them to be exposed, but certainly close enough that anyone specifically looking in from the street would discover them. A strange sort of tremor went through her body at this realization, as though her desire to escape from this unwanted level of exposure was battling with her need- no matter how artificially produced- to get busy with the stranger still holding onto her, hunger in his eyes. Sander's fingers kept a tight grip on her hips, unwilling to let her go.

Sander's entire body throbbed with need; to him, Amy was water to a dehydrated man. The mere thought of leaving her alone was unthinkable. Unlike Amy though, who simply trembled with need and waited submissively for him to touch her again, Sander knew that these feelings weren't his. The thought frustrated him, the idea that his mind was no longer entirely his own highly disquieting, though no more so than the Command Collar he had subjected Amy to in years past, he supposed.

The alien that had set up shop in Pond's body apparently had a very bad sense of timing, to set them up to do this here... But Sander had a theory. Maybe it wasn't sex specifically that it wanted... Well, one way to find out...

'I swear, I'm not usually like this...' Amy stammered, the remnants of her twenty-first century upbringing still clinging to her, never to be quite shaken off. Despite her words, Sander could feel her hips shake as his fingers trailed along the waistband of her pants, wrestling briefly with the buckle on her belt before finally gaining access.

'Quiet,' He said, hand proceeding through the button atop her pants with ease. 'You don't really want to attract attention here, do you?'

'I... I c-could just stop this... Pull away,' She quavered in return, her words promising more of a challenge than her tone could match. She added, cautiously, 'You would stop...right?'

'Yeah, I would,' He answered, biting back a laugh. There was a time when he would have ignored her protestations, and gotten away with it too. But now wasn't that time, and besides, 'Because you don't have the willpower to stop me, feeling like you do...'

'I don't...' The admission colored her cheeks, but it was Sander's hand sliding into her pants that made her bite her lip. Her hips swung forward, pressing into his touch as his fingers began their slow descent into her panties. She was robbed of any further opportunities to protest by the moan that slipped, softly and tremulously, from her lips. Sander felt his own mouth twitch, eyes glued to the slight, trembling part in Amy's.

It had never been like this before, not really anyway. In this little back alley, in this tiny little town on a backwoods planet in a- to his perspective- long since burned out solar system, everything seemed so out of control. If it had just been the environment it wouldn't have been so bad; Sander had had sex without complete control of everything around him before, but... at least there he had been able to regulate his own body. But the lust that filled him near to bursting now was independent of his will, he couldn't suppress it even if he wanted to. He felt only partially in control of his own body.

And if it was unsettling for him, he couldn't imagine how Amy must feel; at least Sander had some idea as to why he felt like this. To Amy it must have been a complete mystery why she was opening her body to the probing touches of a near stranger.

Then again, at least this had some form of pleasure to be taken from it... That was made entirely evident by the seeping wetness that coated the crotch of Amy's panties, as if in welcome of Sander's questing fingers. That, and the way her breath caught in her throat as he found his mark, the pads of his fingers questing over supple flesh that he already knew by sight. His free hand slammed into the wall beside her head, open palmed; Amy flinched away, but he had still left her an opening. If she wanted, she could flee out onto the street, but she stayed...

'I don't...' Her voice faltered, as her eyes flicked to him, seemingly desperate to find somebody who knew what was going on. Though Sander was equally enraptured by the alien forces coursing hormones through their bodies, he at least was in control, assured. Not to mention those fingers...

'I know you don't,' When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, a hair's breadth away from commanding. It sent a chill down her spine, 'Just let it happen. Don't bother fighting it... you'll lose.'

In that moment, as he strummed her clit as though he knew exactly how to get to her, Amy didn't doubt that; her knees almost buckled at the strength of the sensation. When she looked back to him, his intense expression had taken on a wry edge.

Of course, Sander knew that delighting in his sexual efficacy here was cheating, somewhat; right now Amy's entire body was supercharged with a cocktail of hormones both naturally produced and artificially instilled, refining the impulses ringing through her nerves with terrible clarity. He could breathe on her in certain places and send a shiver through her. Still, no need to let her in on that and spoil his fun...

His touch progressed further, and it was all Amy could do to control her body and try to breathe steady, choking moan after moan in its infancy to avoid attracting attention. Her teeth clenched, as if it could stem the tide of pleasured noises bubbling up in her throat, as his wrist turned, positioning for leverage, as her thighs clenched at either side of his hand, soft skin rubbing at him inside her pants. In response he pressed himself closer, his hips and thighs trapping hers against the wall, the chill of the brickwork leaching through the material of her shirt, rough patterns scraping at her; the insistent, inviting heat of his body on one side, the cold and unfeeling wall on the other. She knew which one she'd rather be against...

And she could feel, through his pants, the physical evidence of his own arousal, pushing against her thigh as he worked between her legs. Oh yes, he wanted her...

She felt him slide into her, two fingers parting her folds, practically tearing a whimper from her, the sound echoing with threatening clarity down the- thankfully clear- alley. Nothing in Amy's other sexual dalliances had prepared her for him; though his was not the first set of fingers to find themselves where his now dwelt, they were certainly the most practiced. Certainly the youth of Leadworth- at least those she had allowed this close- had been appreciative, and definitely not lacking in enthusiasm, but energy, it seemed, did not match up to experience. The stranger seemed to know instinctively where to touch, where to stroke and press and move, exactly which parts of her required attention, and just how to give it to her. Her hips rocked into his every touch, aching against him, his presence seemingly enough of a shield for her to allow herself to moan more freely now, only barely aware of the threat of discovery.

Besides, there was something innately freeing about doing this with him. In Leadworth, anywhere she went, Amy was always on guard, always shielding herself from the people around her. The eyes that watched, that knew her history, that scrutinized her, waiting for any form of resurgence of the instability they had assumed was mostly behind her. Oh, she could start talking about the Doctor at any moment...

But not him. Though he knew, he also accepted, something even Rory and Mels had failed to do, at least to the level she would have liked. She still felt as though they were just humoring her, but... even if he was lying, this man at least believed her. She had seen it in his eyes; if he was having some private joke on her, then he was a very good actor.

She could be herself around him. Even without speaking, even if it never came up... she didn't have to hide away that secret inner self anymore.

He played her body with masterful precision, fingers moving over her skin, inside her, over her clit, his touch rippling through her until all she could do was squirm on his hand, supple body rubbing against his as her pleasure arced higher and higher. She could feel herself dripping readily over his hand, his movements in her panties actually producing a wet sound now, low under her panting breaths. Her eyes caught his, and she froze; nobody had ever looked at her that intensely before.

Instinctively, she shrank away, though she really had nowhere else to go; her weight simply pressed more against the wall than against him. It seemed right somehow; his eyes had a predatory gleam that both frightened and intrigued, called to her, in a way. She already felt as though her body had become something of a plaything to him, as though the pleasure he was giving her was, to him, an entertainment; that look only deepened that sensation of being used. It was deeply instinctual. Her legs spread wider.

It was a deeply angry look too, somehow lost and raging at the world. Though Amy didn't really know what to take from that, what he was angry at, she wasn't surprised when that arm that supported him against the wall shifted, his fingers curling around her throat. A brief pulse of panic flew through her body, from head to toe, before she realized: he wasn't squeezing. It wasn't like the last time. This was more for dominance than anything else... she blushed, hard.

He was so close she could barely move, pinned down by his body, tall and strong, dark eyes eternally locked on hers. Losing eye contact would be... wrong, somehow; it would let in the outside world, like a torrent of cold water. The moment would break.

When he kissed her, Amy was surprised enough to let out a little squeak into his mouth, allowing his tongue entry in the process. He had struck with amazing ferocity, the sheer force of the act twanging right down to her clit. He pulled back just as quickly, fingers pressing in a little tighter around her throat. Even that made her tremble...

'You're close, aren't you?' He growled, his lips grazing hers as he pulled away. His voice was low, hoarse; Amy quaked to hear it, 'I can tell...'

'Yes...' The word trembled, struggled its way from between Amy's lips, as her breath caught in her throat. Her whole body felt as thought it was on fire, every nerve twanging with his presence, cheeks aflame and blushing. Nobody had ever talked to her like this before, not with this level of sheer confidence and stability. Oh, she had experienced dirty talk before, but that had only ever been self aggrandizement, a way to assuage the young male ego of whoever she happened to be with. The stranger spoke as though his every word was fact... and they were.

'No, you aren't getting off that easily... say it again,' He laid another kiss to her lips, softly and tantalizingly. 'Tell me what this is doing to you...'

At this she paused, struggling to find the words. She would have had trouble talking like this with someone she knew, let alone a near total stranger... but the look in his eye told her bluntly that he wasn't going to back down.

'I'm... I'm close,' She gasped. 'I'm gonna cum...'

'Not unless you ask for it,' The words trotted out of Sander's mouth as if on autopilot; it was hardly his doing, after all. The words, and the demand behind them, came from outside, 'Beg me...'

Then again... that didn't seem too outside his purview...

He could see an odd flickering in her eyes, as her normally proud nature fought against her body's desperation; it was clear from the outset which part of her would win. Her lips trembled and parted, and Sander could see the words forming momentarily on them, before being dispelled in the delicate tug of war being played out in her head. Cool green eyes shot him a pleading look, desperate to get out of saying anything more, but he simply wouldn't allow it.

'I can wait as long as you like,' He growled in her ear. 'I know exactly what to do to keep you like this for ages, really. But how long are you willing to risk it? How long until someone wanders by and sees me wrist deep in your panties? Beg.'

'Please,' The word quavered out from her before she even knew what she was doing. Her entire body ached for what came next, and all he had done was touch her, 'Please make me cum...'

All at once, the dam inside Sander broke, all his self control was ripped from him in a single moment, and he didn't allow Amy another moment to keep speaking. He moved, pressed in against her, his body conforming to her warm and supple curves as he kissed her once more, swallowed her moans; his fingers thrust deeply into her, his palm grinding against her wet lips. Her pants slipped just a little further down, exposing more creamy skin to the outside air.

Amy was awash with sensation, enraptured by the sudden shock as the stranger delved into her, at mouth and pussy simultaneously. She shuddered, moaned into his kiss at a higher pitch than she could usually produce, as her hips pushed down against his hand and she finally tipped over the edge. The reason for his newfound proximity quickly became apparent, as orgasm ripped through Amy Pond's slight frame, harder than it ever had before.

Her body shook, legs weak as the fire flooded through her veins, but she had nowhere to go with the man this close to her. She groaned, whimpered far too loudly given their public location, but much of the sound was muffled in his all consuming kiss. All that was left was for her to ride out her climax, fucking herself shamelessly on his fingers, coating them so completely in her juices. Only the wet sounds of her arousal were still audible, the sheer lasciviousness of that sending a blush to her cheeks.

Sander could feel Amy's body reacting, and by this point he knew her well enough to tell when she was having an orgasm. Changed future or not, he still had several months of intimate foreknowledge on her, and he had used it with aplomb here, albeit at the beck and call of a most likely malevolent psychoreactive entity that had shacked up in his hostage's brain. As the redhead came, Sander felt the majority of the creature's influence drain out of his mind, leaving him a little cold, yet still aroused himself; even so, this natural desire was better than the artificial lust the alien had given him. This was controllable; it was his, and he could dispel it if he wanted to.

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