Doctor Who: Panic Moon Ch. 05

Aside from the obvious thing she was lacking, Dulcimer looked fairly normal; she was a slender, willowy woman, clad in white pants and a shirt, with a poised, confident stature. She stood very still, radiating calm, and Amy had the feeling of being watched, observed by some vast intellect that was only mildly interested in her. It was unsettling for a number of reasons.

Despite herself, Amy began peering up in order to get a better look at the point where her head should have started; the beginnings of her neck blurred into a grey fugue that hurt Amy's eyes when she looked at it directly. She got the distinct impression that Dulcimer didn't want her staring.

'It's nice to meet you, Amy,' Dulsie's voice flowed through her mind again; Sander's expression indicated that he could hear it too. 'I am Setton Dulcimer Heskelyn. You may call me, oh, whatever you like. I think that in days to come you'll have all sorts of colorful names for me, the same as my friends. I'm sure some of them prefer Master and such... I suppose Miss Heskelyn is apropos, given the fledgling nature of our relationship, although the closest approximation in my language would be Setton-Siha... I'm sorry, Sander, am I rambling?'

'You really, really are,' Sander nodded. 'But that's okay, you'll live forever, so it's not your life that's wasting away listening to you talk,' He poked her playfully in the ribs. 'Now, listen... You need to be gentle with Amy. Mara and I enjoyed what you did for us, but you are fucking intense, Dulsie. Go slow. Let her get used to you.'

'Oh, this could not get more ominous...' Amy rolled her eyes, feigning indifference, but deep down she could feel a growing cloud of apprehension spreading through her like a poisonous mist.

'I'll be nice, Sander,' Dulsie gave a placating gesture as her voice folded itself into every corner of the human's minds. Amy found it an odd feeling, having the Dullahan communicate with her; it was different from Lysithea's direct telepathy. Rather than simply having a voice in her head, Amy could feel the smooth, intelligent voice of the alien twang through her like a physical force; like being hugged almost to the point of being crushed, but not quite. And yet, oddly, it wasn't unpleasant. Dulcimer's mind might be strong, but it wasn't particularly violent.

'Oh, I never said nice,' Sander grinned wolfishly. 'No, just gentle. And remember to save whatever you find. It might be interesting to look over later. You cats enjoy yourselves,' He waved as he retreated from the room, eyebrows wriggling suggestively.

Alone with the bizarre, headless alien, Amy had no idea what she was supposed to do. Every rational bone in her body told her to flee or try to reason her way out of her increasingly crazy situation. Several of her less rational parts wanted to laugh as Dulcimer wandered over to her, folding her legs under her to take a seat on the same mat Amy was seated on. A tense moment of silence followed, and once again Amy got the feeling that she was being watched.

'Okay, Amy!' Dulsie's hands clapped together. 'Let's get down to business. I'm sure you heard what Sander just said, but let me add that my gentleness is predicated on your compliance. If you struggle, well... There isn't a lot I can do to stop you from being hurt.'

'What are you going to do?' Amy said, aiming for "challenging and defiant," rather than "mystified and scared," and failing. 'How would we even...? I don't know, do you have the right parts? God, I can't believe I'm even asking this...'

'That's not how it works for me. Physical love does precisely nothing for a Dullahan. We reproduce in... other ways. Don't ask, it'd take too long to explain. No, what I want from you is more cerebral.'

'Oh, so you're like Lysithea,' Amy muttered bitterly. 'Great.'

'Not exactly. It'll be quicker to just show you. Close your eyes, and do not struggle. I mean that.'

Dulcimer's fingers flexed as Amy reluctantly closed her eyes. Immediately, she felt a pressure, building at the back of her head. She stiffened as the alien sensation spread through her; the cool, smooth fingers of the Dullahan encircled her own, keeping her still. The alien's touch was reassuring, almost warm.

'Let it happen.'

It was deeply disquieting, feeling the first probes of Dulsie's mind lapping against the shores of her consciousness. The walls of Amy's mind were being slowly eroded away to nothing, and there was very little she could do to stop it. Tendrils of alien thought wound their way into her brain, wrapped themselves around her; it wasn't an assault, more like she was being... overtaken. Dulcimer was efficient, yet surprisingly delicate. Amy soon found her fear leaving her; she could tell that whatever this was, it wouldn't cause her any pain if she let it happen.

Before everything went dark, Amy felt one last thought being sent to her, 'Now, you're going to feel extremely lightheaded, but just go with it. When you wake up... Everything will have changed.'

******************

Amy stepped out into the TARDIS control room, trying to look energetic and bouncy and not like she had just woken up. This kind of lying through body language had served her in good stead when she had worked as a kissogram.

'Good morning!' She waved to the Time Lord.

'It isn't,' The Doctor answered without looking up from the console. Slowly, he shuffled around the edge of it, prodding seemingly at random at its innards.

'What?'

'Morning. It's not morning. It's night,' He glanced up at her, just for a second. 'On the side of the planet we're orbiting. Night.'

'Don't be difficult,' Amy admonished, thinking about punching his shoulder but deciding against it. The shadow of the Byzantium, of the Weeping Angels and their aftermath... of what she had done, in her room, in her own time period, with the Doctor...

Physical contact with him was a bad idea, right now. It hadn't been a terribly long time since then, a matter of hours, really. And yes, she did feel bad about throwing herself at him like that, only moments after revealing to him that she was engaged. It wasn't fair to put him in a situation like that. But...

But, well, the question still hung between them. Sure, the alien had said all the right, honorable things and backed away. But there were moments- whole, hot moments- where he had kissed her back, where he had groaned and seemed to lose himself in her. And if he thought she hadn't noticed his hands on her ass for a good long time, he was nuts.

Amy stifled a naughty grin.

And failed.

Hey, she had backed off too... Eventually. But there was a reason she had kissed him at all; the memory of this man had been with her for much of her life. He had ascended to a kind of mythological status. Now, he was back, with his smile and his awkwardness and his skinny bad-self and his weird brain and his... his bowtie. He hadn't aged a day, but Amy certainly had.

She'd travelled in this strange blue box with its even stranger occupant for quite a while now, and she noticed things, particularly his ability to run, far and fast, and the odd, manic contortions of his long limbed form. To her, these denoted endurance and flexibility; both highly appealing characteristics, given the kinds of thoughts that were still swimming through her mind.

'So, where are we this time?' She asked, leaning against a free space on the control pillar. She wondered whether even the Doctor understood the chaotic array of blinking things, glowing things and... unnamable things that populated the TARDIS control console. Going on past experience, she doubted it.

As if to prove her point, the Doctor shrugged and launched into a long, wordy explanation on why it was impossible to tell where they currently were in time and space. To Amy, many of the words he was using sounded suspicious, possibly made up on the spot, or read in some alien fast food menu or something, retained in the Doctor's memory without context to be trotted out when he wanted to sound smart. No way was he talking exclusively about the TARDIS, that's for sure.

As she stood there, watching him, she felt a familiar stirring spread through her; that tiny voice that told her to act and damn the consequences. Her Doctor. Right there. And wherever they were, it was the future. Speaking objectively, Rory was... not here. He was somewhere else. Some other world, oh so far away from this one.

She was alone with her Doctor, spinning out in the void by some unknown world, and...

'Ah, screw it...'

With a hop and a step, she brought herself close to her Raggedy Doctor, soaring on wings of audacity. As completely uncool as that bowtie was, Amy had to admit that it did make a good handhold...

She had him by the collar, dragged him down, her mouth was against his...

And he recoiled, of course. Tried to push her away. But only momentarily. Only for as long as it took for her tongue to slide into his mouth. After that, it was like a switch had been flipped, and suddenly she was kissing him, and he was kissing back, and for the first time Amy was completely sure that the Doctor was a man, and not some genderless thing made to look like one.

'No! No, no... You bloody humans!' Eventually, the Doctor pulled away breathlessly, shaking his head. 'What about Rory? You're getting married in the morning! I think we've been through this before!'

Amy's head tilted slightly, and she ensured that she was never truly out of physical contact with the steadily retreating man, 'Not this morning, specifically.'

She had backed him against the wall, her body pressed against his. She leaned in to kiss him again, but his hands were on her shoulders, keeping her away, 'What about Rory, Pond?'

Amy rolled her eyes. Why did this have to be so hard? Time to step it up.

The Doctor's back was still pressed against the wall, and so he had nowhere to go when Amy's hands snaked down to his belt buckle. She had always enjoyed sex, and so had developed a suite of skills to allow her to have it as quickly as possible, including the ability to undo a belt in as few moves as possible. There was the sound of leather sliding against fabric.

Amy giggled sexily as her hands returned to his chest, slowly slithering down as she dropped to her knees. Now was not the time for words, now was the time for action. The sight of her, on her knees and gazing up at him, gave the Doctor reason to pause, and Amy took the opportunity when it presented itself. She deftly drew his pants down, and without words or hesitation took his dick into her mouth.

Sure, it was incredibly brazen of her, definitely on its way to being slutty, but the soft sigh above her indicated that it was the right choice to make. Her tongue ran the underside of his cock, feeling it swell and fill her mouth. Her lips tightened on the shaft as the Doctor's hands fell, swinging and limp, to his sides. Her eyes flicked up; whatever else the Doctor was, he was definitely male, and... well, maybe it really had been a while.

If she thought about it, really considered, this was a long time coming for her, too. When young women reach a certain age they start thinking thoughts of a decidedly adult nature for the first time. In most cases, they would be about boys- or girls, Amy wasn't one to judge- that actually existed in physical space, where they could be accessed when it came time to act on those fantasies. For Amy Pond, those thoughts had first come featuring her Raggedy Doctor.

It was disconcerting in a way, finding yourself sexually attracted to your imaginary friend. But hell, the Doctor may not have been in her life for long, back then, but he had made an impact. And it felt good to think those thoughts about him, and as she had gotten older, become an adult, to use those thoughts to get off. She couldn't count the number of times she had cum envisioning...

Oh, but then there had been Rory, and that was great. But Amy couldn't deny that sometimes, when she was with him, she had a hard time stopping herself from saying an entirely different name. At least then, in those moments, that damn blue box was the farthest thing from her mind.

That was then, and this was now. Now was her and her Doctor, entirely alone and spinning out into nothingness. Beyond those twin wooden doors lay a completely different world, a new planet with an alien sky, with alien people and alien languages and a way of life that tiny little Amelia Pond couldn't even imagine. That was the addictive nature of the TARDIS. Beyond those doors was every damn thing a person could want.

Of course, the thing about doors is that they can stay closed until someone is ready to open them. Right now, with Amy Pond on her knees and the Doctor's mind lost and focused on an entirely separate piece of his anatomy... Nobody was ready.

Amy groaned softly as her head bobbed, mouth straining to take in more of the Doctor's length. From the look of him, the way his jaw was set tight and the way he occasionally lifted himself onto the tips of his toes to thrust deeper into her warm, wet mouth, Amy could tell that he was pretty far gone. He hadn't moved, and that was a good sign. He certainly could have tried, but he'd remained resolutely still, his back pressed against the wall of his time machine, fists now clenched at his side. Whenever she looked up at him, trying hard to keep her eyes wide and vulnerable-looking, he retained her gaze for a few seconds, shivered, and looked away.

Was he trying to assuage his guilt by imagining it wasn't her doing this? Well, that wouldn't do. Amy wondered, what can I do about that?

She swirled her tongue and pushed herself further down on the Doctor's shaft, moaning and looking up at him with her sexiest stare. He grunted, and finally acknowledged that she was there; one hand stroked through her hair. Now satisfied that things were working out okay, Amy released the Doctor from her mouth, leaned back on her haunches and gave him a lopsided grin.

'What about Rory?' He repeated, stammering. 'I can't believe I haven't got an answer for that yet...' He added for good measure.

Amy rolled her eyes. This again? 'He's not here, I've known you a lot longer than him, and besides, this is what I want, Doctor. What do you want?'

There was a pause, as the Time Lord thought. Seeing him struck silent like this was quite a shock; usually he would talk... ramble, really, until he eventually arrived at a satisfactory answer. At least, that was the way Amy, in all her youthful hero worship, had opted to interpret his motor mouth. The more logical explanation became apparent quite quickly after meeting the man; he liked the sound of his own voice.

If he wanted to chatter, that was perfectly fine by Amy. All that talking was the product of a nimble tongue, and there were plenty of alternative uses for one of them.

'I...' The Doctor tripped over his words, mouth twisting into a dissatisfied frown. The question in his mind was obvious based solely on his expression; what did he want? On her knees, after all that had just happened, Amy almost rolled her eyes; she hadn't exactly wanted deep, philosophical contemplation on her question.

'Um... Well,' His hands twitched, tapping incessantly against the wall that was still behind him. He tilted his head back until it hit the wall, eyes closed, 'Bloody humans...' He muttered, just within the range of Amy's hearing. All this internal turmoil was apparently allowing him to ignore the fact that his fly was still open and, after all Amy had done, he was still... well, hard. It wouldn't take much, and Amy went for the prize with gusto.

Her eyebrows arched into an expression of innocent puzzlement, and she bit her lower lip lightly, contriving to look as appealing as possible, 'Never seen you look like this before, Doctor... Don't you like me?' She teased, merciless in her precision manipulation.

'No, no, it's not...' He froze again, shook his head violently, the mental break almost audible, like a bone snapping. Everything in him tensed forward all at once, to the tune of five simple words, 'Oh, to hell with it...'

The Doctor pounced, and the word was appropriate because to Amy it signaled the arrival of an animal part of him that she had never experienced before. In one long, fluid sequence of motion, he swept forward, bundling Amy up in his arms and pushing forward until he hit the opposite wall, pressing his companion to it forcefully. She had been laughing, loudly, joyously, for as long as it had taken him to cross the limited curvature of the control room, but the sound morphed into a surprised exhalation as she hit the wall.

'Oh! Doctor!' She exclaimed, the first part in shock at the sudden change, the second a purr of delight as the Time Lord pressed her against the wall, hands sliding to her waist. Then she was silenced, as his mouth covered hers in a vibrant, passionate kiss that pretty much stopped her from doing anything but moaning into his mouth and responding as hotly as she could. She felt her knees go weak; damn, the guy could kiss when he wanted to!

There were no more words, no more cogent thoughts to be communicated, no more interesting moral dilemmas about sleeping with a woman who was engaged. There was just desire; The Doctor's lips on hers, breaking off the blistering kiss only to sink his teeth into her neck, an act that made her gasp suddenly and shudder. The Doctor's body, sinking against her own, the heat of him permeating down to her bones. The Doctor's hands, so skilled at working machines, finally taking a shot at something with more life, unbuckling her belt and sliding her jeans down inch after inch of toned, pale thigh. He growled in wordless passion, suddenly all business. The pretenses had finally dropped; when he had first swept her off her feet in the middle of the night, when she had been dressed in very little, this had been what she had thought would happen. Hoped would happen, if she was being brutally, Rory-disappointingly honest.

A fluttering, light as air moan escaped Amy's throat at the first, brief strokes between her legs. Normally, she would have preferred some degree of foreplay, but this, right now, was sex, not some flowery euphemism for the act. It was getting fucked. Satisfaction, the slaking of an old, stirring desire, and the plain old, highly addictive pleasures of the flesh. She squirmed under the Doctor's touch, as his fingers ringed her clit, but it was unnecessary. Seducing him, blowing him, even waiting on her knees while he puzzled over her, with increasingly elaborate fantasies of this exact moment running through her head, had made her wet and ready, aching for someone- one particular someone- to fill her.

'Just do it!' She gasped breathlessly as the Time Lord's index finger scraped against her labia. 'Please, I'm ready. I want you to... Please fuck me, my Doctor,' She purred in his ear, adding a little more fuel to the flames. They were steadily rising anyway, but he laughed roughly at her words.

'Okay, direct action!' The Doctor grinned, his hands on her hips lifting her bodily and pinning her off the ground, against the wall. Good lord, he was strong! 'I'm good with direct action!'

She felt her panties being drawn further down to accommodate this sudden positional shift, and then the heat of the Doctor's cock met her own dripping, wet core. He slid into Amy in a single, smooth motion, greased by the redhead's arousal and encouraged by her drawn out, unsteady whimper of satisfaction. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder, screwing her eyes shut at the sheer sensation washing over her as he buried himself in her, their hips meeting at the termination of their union. For a moment, there was a heavy, organic silence, broken only by the panting of their breath. Both merely enjoyed the feeling of being together; Amy's pussy full of the Doctor's throbbing length, the two of them so close that nothing else mattered.