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Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 01

By: Kurokami



Author's Note: This series builds off of elements of the previous Panic Moon series. To get the full experience it is recommended, though not necessary, to read that one first.

Okay folks, this one's going to be a little different. This is a side series to Panic Moon, focused more on the canon characters than the original ones that populate the main storyline. The two are still connected, if tangentially, though. Anyway, Panic Moon itself isn't dead either, I'm still writing it. Take a look at my profile for details.

Anyway, thanks to my sub and beta reader LogicalDreamer, and to the loves of my life, Isabel and D. I hope you enjoy this, and please leave a comment or vote if you like. I'd appreciate it!



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 01



Actually, yes she did. Heat swept up her body in waves, and she knew exactly what she wanted, it was just that she didn't know why. Why this was happening, why she wanted it, why she was feeling the way she did... So many things. A small, juddering ball of panic formed in Amy's gut; she had the feeling that everything in her was completely out of her control, and it scared her.

When she looked over, she could see the pale Welsh woman looking just as flushed as Amy herself felt. She looked back at Amy with a level of distrust that was more than a little shocking from a stranger, along with... or was she just seeing what she wanted to see?... a desire to match Amy's own, though hidden far better than Amy felt she was hiding her own. Surely, this dark haired woman could see the hunger in Amy, the strange compulsion she felt to throw her down on the grass, and...

Why?

Her rational mind fought against it, but that alien, unprovoked want had already crept up her spine and wrapped itself around her brain. Under normal circumstances, Amy could have dealt with her arousal, as inexplicable as it was, with her usual tactic; waiting until she got home and taking care of it herself. But now it throbbed, thundered through her mind...

She wondered... What would happen if she asked? What if she begged?

'So, where do I need to go?' The Welsh woman's voice was low, and oddly sensual to Amy's ears. It was probably just subjectivity, though. Definitely. Although... the stranger had stopped stretching herself to look over the hedges, opting instead to stare at Amy with a guarded interest. Like a kind of magnetism.

'Um, yes,' Amy blinked again, heavily, and forced herself to look away, to place her line of sight over the greenery and toward the village. Always the outsider, Leadworth had never seemed so far away and alien to her. The woman moved in a little closer... Why did she do that? 'See that turning there? You just-'

She must have just lost her footing. The grass they were standing on was long and unkempt, set over uneven and rather rocky ground. If one wasn't prepared to be careful- say, if they spent every day on even and manufactured city paths rather than the randomness of country terrain- then slipping and falling was easy. It was why the children of Leadworth always seemed to sport scabs or bruises; hell, Amy herself sure had when she was growing up. But one moment things were stable, and the next the stranger had cried out, and slid forward into Amy, shoulders colliding, her weight carrying her further, her back sliding along Amy's chest as she rushed to support her... and it was a revelation.

The feel of the older woman against her sent a tremor through Amy's body, her skin screaming at the sheer heat and weight and life of another person in her hands. The struggle to stop her from falling completely was awkward, but to Amy it was shockingly pleasant; the ache in her head disappeared completely, replaced with a kind of allover tingle and a need to press further. She knew she was gripping the Welsh woman too tightly, but she couldn't bring herself to loosen her hands.

Her mind flooded with hypotheticals; what it would feel like if this stranger tore off her clothes and pushed her down onto the grass. What her tongue would feel like inside her mouth, on her skin, running up her thighs...

Why?

'Ooh, sorry about that,' Accented syllables trailed off into silence as Amy felt the same tremor go through the stranger, and all at once they were far too close. 'I just... I... tripped...'

Something snapped.

With a suddenness that surprised Amy, the stranger's tongue was in her mouth, lips pressed to hers with desperate verve. She made a noise of total shock and began kissing back simultaneously, the stranger's head turned at an odd angle to maintain the kiss, eyes drooping closed as Amy's fingers wrapped tighter around her. They broke apart after almost a minute of sustained contact, leaving Amy bereft and whimpering with unmet need.

'Please...' She said, voice trembling. It sounded like a plea, and Amy was surprised to realize that it was; there was an odd helplessness about her expression. In response, the stranger shoved, sending Amy tripping over her own feet and onto the grass below. Damp earth rushed up to meet the back of her shirt; there would be grass stains, for sure.

Not that it even mattered to Amy, once she of the Welsh accent slithered down on top of her...

There was a thrumming, energetic verve to their second kiss, all rolling tongues and moaning and soft lips pressed desperately together. There was heat, as their bodies pressed together, and terrible confusion, as neither girl was able to place exactly why what was happening was happening; only that their insides throbbed so powerfully as to almost hurt, and there was only one way to quench that.

The Welsh woman pressed in, all insistent force and need, pushing Amy's head back into the grass. She felt fingers probing, slipping under the hem of her shirt, and for a single dizzying moment she understood just how out of control this had become. With her rationality waning under the weight of her ever growing lust, she pushed the stranger away, one thing in particular needling at her. She had been brought up in a certain way, after all.

'Wait, wait,' Amy shook her head, voice unsteady. She shivered as the stranger tried to dip back in, lips on her neck, 'What's your name?'

She blinked, 'Does it matter?'

'Yeah!'

'Gwen. Yours?'

'I'm Amy,' She tried not to sound too needy, but feared she had failed. A moment passed.

'Now?' Gwen was almost panting, her fingers gripping Amy's hips with possessive strength. The realization of this sent a tremor through Amy's body, and Gwen grinned lustily.

'Now,' Amy said breathlessly, craning her neck to recapture Gwen's lips. It seemed like pure madness, writhing behind the bushes with a woman she had just met, but every nerve in her body blistered, her mind extending only as far as the supple flesh of the woman on top of her.

At first the insistent, screaming want had entered her body in a way that seemed external to her, like a flood washing in from outside, rather than the usual welling up from within. But now Amy could identify the flotsam and jetsam in the tide, the little instinctual fantasies that lodged in her head in the heat of the moment; jagged images burned into her mind at the moment of climax. Things she had never told anyone, things that had to have come from within.

This desire was hers. She wanted Gwen, here in this moment. More than that... She wanted Gwen to... to...

Hold her down. To press her into the dirt and fuck her, hard enough to hurt, hard enough to make her see spots. To make her do things, make her say things that she had never...

Oh god...

Instinctively, her legs opened, allowed Gwen to press between them, sliding her body into the gap. Her body trembled under the woman's exploring fingers, as her hands slid to the curve of her ass. This was what she wanted...

To Gwen, things were far less clear cut; she had been with Torchwood long enough to have picked up a few things, and frankly this situation was more than a little reminiscent of her first day on the job anyway. But like her first day on the job, she found it increasingly hard to care beyond the dampness spreading between her legs. Of course this was insane; she didn't know this Amy, and she certainly had no interest in women before today... Even leaving aside the age difference- and Gwen was sure that Amy was a decade younger than her at least- this would have been vastly out of character for the Torchwood operative. With her last vestige of rational thought, she wondered whether Amy was an alien, or just possessed by one...

Her fingers gripped harder.

And that was the other thing; if she examined her actions, Gwen could tell she was being rougher than she usually was. Amy let out the occasional yelp into her mouth as her teeth or nails worked just a little too hard, enough to cause pain that was no longer nice. She wasn't usually like this, but it was so delicious, the way Amy opened herself up like that, she had to take advantage. As her tongue explored Amy's mouth, something hot and insistent fell upon Gwen's mind, close to anger, but focused and throbbing. Something she wanted, and something Amy would give to her.

For the longest time the young redhead's hands had been by her sides on the ground, as if she were in shock and didn't know what to do with them. Over time, she summoned up the courage to make them creep up Gwen's jeans toward her ass, wanting so much to touch her. As they reached her thighs, the Welsh woman let out a growl into Amy's mouth, her own hands gripping Amy's wrists and pressing them to the grass above her head, kissing harder, faster. Wanting more, intent on taking more than ever before.

'Don't you move, Amy...' She said, her voice soft but her words iron hard. Amy whimpered as that wonderful mouth travelled down the curve of her chin, teeth laying into the skin of her neck, down, down...

So, this was the benefit of experience, eh?

Amy yelped, as Gwen's fingers tightened in her shirt, drawing the fabric tight against her back and sides, balling it into her fist. There was a look to the older woman, a kind of strength to her gaze that Amy rarely saw, and the force of it made her shiver. As she watched, Gwen brought a finger to her lips, inclining her head over to the hedges.

'Quiet, now,' Her accent made the words sound strange, near to alien. 'Wouldn't want to be discovered like this, would you? Remember, I get to leave... You live here.'

And then she felt the sunlight hit her bare skin, as the hem of her shirt was pulled up, over her pale, soft stomach. With the sky completely cloudless, there was nothing to obscure the sun, and the light made her skin near luminous, the sight of it putting a predatory expression on Gwen's face. The dark haired woman straddled her for a moment, before leaning back in, breasts pressed to Amy's now revealed bra, eyes drilling into hers from mere inches away. Amy was left in her shadow.

'You young girls, with your short skirts...' Gwen's voice was almost unrecognizable from before, silken and thrumming, far deeper. If Amy closed her eyes, she could almost believe it was someone else speaking, though she felt doing so would be somehow dangerous. She needed to observe, to see this happening to her. That voice made her shiver, 'You're just asking for it...'

Fingers slid up the insides of Amy's thighs, insistent even as she reflexively squeezed them together. Gwen pushed in, looping her thumb and forefinger into Amy's panties and, with deliberate slowness, eyes never leaving hers, slid them down. In a moment of bizarre self consciousness, all Amy could think about was the hope that she hadn't been wearing anything too embarrassing. Still, she squirmed and blushed as Gwen stopped as her panties reached her knees, settling them there. If anyone were to discover them here, there would no longer be any doubt as to what they were doing...

'Let's see what else you're hiding...' Gwen whispered, sitting up and shifting her weight so that she straddled Amy's legs. Her fingertips tracked up that pale stomach, over bra covered breasts and a throat pulsing with each panting breath. When they reached her cheek they lifted up, sliding into her hair and... pulling.

Amy had no choice but to cry out, back curling upward as Gwen tugged her by the hair into something more closely resembling a seated position, face to face with the older woman, tears welling in her eyes. Gwen smiled sweetly.

'Thank you,' She said, placing a gentle kiss on Amy's lips as her hand remained in place, keeping Amy in position as her free hand crept around her back to undo the clasp on the stricken girl's bra, 'Arms up.'

Whimpering, Amy raised her arms as Gwen hooked a finger into her bra and pulled it away. As more and more of herself was exposed, Amy had another moment of clarity, where the sheer spontaneous madness of what she was doing hit her all at once. A part of her felt like pulling away, but her body was blind to that, aching for more. Even the hand in her hair contributed to it, the roughness of Gwen's manner calling to something inside her that she had spent too long denying.

Very quickly, she realized that she was already so wet...

Gwen purred softly in the back of her throat as she cast the bra aside, pointedly out of Amy's reach. She wanted more, but at the same time she couldn't help but wonder why; aside from her brief, chemically assisted dalliance with a woman possessed by a sex alien, she had never had any interest in women, and certainly not as... violently, as she did now. The mere sight of Amy's gentle curves and panting, squirming desperation made her clit throb and soaked her underwear through. She had no clue what had gotten into her, but... she didn't care.

Without warning, she released her grip on Amy's hair, sending the young woman collapsing back to the grass. She cried out as she dropped, far too loudly for their exposed position. The flat of Gwen's palm pressed down on Amy's chest, keeping her from rising again, fingers spread to touch the soft fullness of the redhead's now bare chest. She winked.

'What did I say? Hush,' She said. 'Now, you strike me as one of those teasey jailbait types, you know, the kind with more exposed leg than experience. So, my question to you is, shall I get my kit off too, or would you prefer this as a quiet, out of the way kind of thing that you regret later?'

Amy twitched, her eyes still filled with pained tears, and she looked away, out over the field beyond. There was Leadworth, familiar enough, if boring. If she looked up... She didn't know what she saw. Something new. Gwen stared back, expectantly, blisteringly confident, though flushed and breathing just as hard as Amy herself. How could she bear her obvious arousal so easily, when Amy felt as though she was falling apart from within?

Gwen's weight upon her was a constant reminder; Leadworth might be all around her, but right now she was out in uncharted waters, for reasons that still weren't entirely clear. Her hips subconsciously rose to press up against Gwen, and the Welsh woman's answering grin told her everything she needed to know.

'Yes...' She said, her voice tiny and layered with need. If Gwen didn't start touching her soon, she would go insane, 'Please... Please...'

'Oh?' Gwen tilted her head, now completely involved in the madness she had gotten embroiled in. Amy just sounded too alluringly helpless to pass up, 'I'm going to need more than that, Amy. I'm not going to be teased by ambiguity... you need to say it.'

'I...' Amy stopped, shuddered. The woman atop her wanted her to say what she wanted... but Amy doubted she was prepared for the full truth of that, 'I want...'

I want you to hurt me. Touch me, hit me, gag me or make me scream, I don't care... Just do something to me!

'I want to see you naked, Gwen...' Finally, she choked it out, the tears she had been unable to wipe away spilling down her cheeks. The old wants, the ones that assailed her in the midst of orgasm had returned, stronger and more vivid than ever. What was wrong with her?

Gwen laughed, low in her throat, staring down at Amy from on high, seeming distant and unattainable. Though she ached to reach out and touch her, Amy forced herself to keep her hands limp above her head, where Gwen had left them. Even so, her palms tingled.

'I think I could do that for you,' Gwen tilted her head to one side and winked. For the most part she seemed so in control, but there were signs that she was just holding back, in the unevenness of her breath, and the flush of her cheeks, 'But it all depends. You'd need to take care of me first...'

'Yes! Yes, anything,' Amy quavered, close to sobbing with need. 'Just, please...'

'Oh, look at you,' Gwen chided, chuckling. 'You young little teases, you're all alike. You look all savvy and svelte in your cute little outfits, but the moment you're faced with something real, you get all frantic and flushed... But since you asked so nicely, little girl...'

She moved a finger slowly in front of Amy's face, making her follow it with her eyes, before she brought her hands to her chest, unbuttoning her shirt. Beneath her, Amy was rapt, her eyes following every undone button down the line, more flesh exposed with each one. Even when she wasn't looking at them, Amy could feel those eyes burning down at her, beating across her skin... She felt like her mere gaze would leave bruises in its wake.

'Somebody likes what she sees...' The Welsh woman lilted, syllables rough and angular. Her eyes drifted to Amy's twitching fingers, 'But you keep those hands to yourself until I tell you to. I know how handsy you young people can get...'

Her shirt lay open, undone and swaying around the well muscled flesh beyond it. As Amy's eyes drifted from her body to her eyes, another wave of crippling lust swept over her, prickling her skin, throwing her mind into disarray. Unbidden, her entire body lifted, pushed up off of the grass, hands scrabbling desperately for purchase on Gwen's clothes, pulling her in, slamming their mouths together.

And for a moment, it was good; they writhed together, falling back to the grass, all need and want and nothing else. Amy's sudden spasm of desire seemed to have been replicated in Gwen, as the older woman moaned against Amy's questing tongue, nails trailing red lines on the skin of Amy's hips. But, as soon as it had begun, it was over; Gwen's eyes opened, she pushed away, pinning Amy beneath a hand at her throat.

'No no, hands to yourself, I said,' She growled, breath still catching in her throat. 'Slutty little thing... I know that might be how it goes with your little boyfriends in the back of their car or whatever, but not here.'

Amy nodded, no longer able to trust her voice. Gwen's fingers pressed just a little too tightly at her throat, that and her words going straight to Amy's pussy. Her head was filled with dark, violent things...

'See, the way things work here,' Gwen continued, voice liquid smooth. 'Is that I'm worked up near out of my mind, and I'm thinking that's your fault, jailbait. I need to get off, and you're going to help me. If you're nice and cooperative, we'll see about seeing to you too...'

Slowly, deliberately, Gwen unzipped her jeans. Behind her, Amy's thighs clenched together, electric lust throbbing in her clit, her heart beating like a drum. Yet a nervous pit had opened up in her stomach; if her experience with men was limited, her experience with women was non-existent, and beyond the heat that had overtaken her, Amy's mind was a bundle of nervousness. Still, she couldn't help what she wanted, and right now her eyes were glued to Gwen's hips as they shifted, weight lifting off her body so those jeans could be lowered.

She stood momentarily, just long enough to wriggle her pants down her hips, panties following. The sunlight dappled her pale skin with a series of shifting shadows, rippling across her thighs as she spread her legs enough to cast the obstructive garments aside. Amy had to force herself to keep her hands still, her pussy ached and begged for her touch... but this wasn't a usual day, and her usual approach wasn't going to fly.

That was the way she would normally take care of her desires; if they troubled her, as they often did, there was no harm because she was alone. An orgasm by her fingers was merely a cure for the dark thoughts that lay heavy and wanting in her mind. Beyond the crack in her wall, Amy's biggest fear was allowing those desires to build up and accumulate in her to the point where she found herself acting on them; an easy way to get hurt, she felt. No, that was the path of victimhood, that was putting herself in harm's way, and for what? The possibility of a cheap thrill?




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 01



But here was Gwen, and all Amy wanted to do was to feel those fingers pulling at her hair again. Here was the real world, catching up with her furtive fantasies, far from the relative safety of her bedroom. There was no retreat from this... And Amy was sure she wouldn't escape even if the option was available to her.

The dark haired woman slid back down, skin pressed deliciously against skin; she had sidled up, the damp heat of her pussy now placed on Amy's bare stomach, at her belly button. Amy's abs trembled, the slick and heated evidence of Gwen's comparable arousal now rubbing against her skin. Unbidden, she licked her lips. Gwen gave a toothy smile, and leaned back in, nose to nose with her redheaded captive.

'Now, that was telling,' She purred, pressing her mouth to Amy's, sucking at her lower lip until the younger woman shuddered. 'I think I know what you want... Are you going to be nice and cooperative, Amy? Or am I going to have to turn you over my knee?'

'Yes, yes,' Amy near sobbed, the intensity of her need to be touched rising to manic levels. The last, desperate embers of her conscious mind were in full tilt panic mode now, no longer wondering about the whys and wherefores of this sudden bout of sexual insanity, but rather trying to figure out a way to make it stop before she got herself hurt. Of course, she came up empty, but self preservation was a powerful thing, and what remained of Amy's ability to think critically knew that senselessly giving herself up to the dark things in her mind could be terribly dangerous. She got the feeling that something had broken or bent in her mind to put her in this state of delirious lust, but that realization hardly stopped her begging, 'Anything you want, just please...'

Gwen's head tilted again, her hair falling off of one shoulder into the path of the sun's glare, casting the side of Amy's face in shadow, 'Alright, alright. Eager little thing, you've got that going for you. But you still need to prove to me that you're more than just another cocktease in a short skirt, red. And I warn you, I'm not one of your little high school boyfriends. I know what I'm doing...'

And with that, Gwen started to shift, sliding up Amy's body on her knees, grass staining her calves as it was crushed beneath her. The cool earth under them was the last reminder Amy had that, no matter where her mind had floated off to, she was still in Leadworth, the town was still all around her. That the world was more than the soft flesh anchoring her to the earth, or the glistening, pink pussy slowly bobbing closer as Gwen crawled forward. Soon, the Welsh woman's thighs were at either side of Amy's head, her legs cradling Amy's shoulders, that unspeakably attractive pussy just inches away.

It had been to Amy's eternal frustration that, as much as Gwen had stripped down for her, she had left her shirt on, if undone. The gap she had created framed her bust well, creating a number of tantalizing curves and hints at what lay below, without ever giving Amy the view she desired of what lay beneath. She had always been a very vision oriented person, and the denial of what she herself had offered so freely to Gwen had made her jaw clench. From this close, at least, she could see the gentle curve of Gwen's breasts far better, even catching the occasional complete glimpse as her shirt fluttered with every movement. She felt an odd sense of gratefulness at this, as though simply being allowed to see was a privilege, as though Gwen had been fully in control this whole time, purposefully withholding the sight from her.

Damn, could she put her hands around her throat again?

Amy could also see, from this close, just how fit Gwen really was; not in the way of someone who ate well and worked out occasionally, but the purposeful, lean and powerful musculature that she sometimes saw in policemen. A physique made for running, either from or away from something. It really made her wonder who Gwen was, out in the real world. Away from this dirty, hedge-lined slice of unreality, she meant.

But what really mattered was that Gwen's cunt was so close that Amy could smell her arousal, the heady scent and the sight of her wetness sending her into near hysterics. All it would take was for her to crane her neck and she could taste it... But no, Gwen... Gwen hadn't said she could, yet...

Wait, what was she saying? Had she even liked girls before right this moment?

'Alright, jailbait. Let's see what you've got.'

Gwen's hips swayed slightly as she lowered herself down, finally placing her wet and dripping core within reach of Amy's pursed lips. The younger woman wished she had begun tentatively, she had hoped to begin this with a hesitance that befit the trepidation those parts of her that were still thinking were experiencing... but the truth was far different. With a soft, whimpering moan, Amy dove into the prize Gwen had offered her, her own cunt twitching hotly as her tongue swept up the Welsh woman's folds, gathering up the beginnings of her juices. Gwen gave a languorous, moaning chuckle at Amy's enthusiasm, tipping her head back to regard the cloudless sky and grinding her hips against the teenager's chin.

So, this was it. She was actually going down on a girl. Yes.

And her clit felt like it was going to burst. Every nerve in her body screamed, shrieked with want, made demands that Gwen wasn't ready to fulfill yet. But if she was good, if she did an adequate job, if she impressed... She might be rewarded. And hey, if this was apparently the onerous task she had been given... Well, things weren't so bad...

Hey, why did the concept of being a... a good girl make her so hot, anyway?

As things progressed, Amy allowed her eyes to drift up her limited view of Gwen's body, trying to gauge reactions; she didn't like what she saw. It wasn't that she was having zero effect; the flush in Gwen's cheeks had certainly deepened, to say nothing of the way her fingers gripped at Amy's forearms, just a little bit too tight in a way the redhead found damn near impossible to resist. But she wasn't exactly being swept along with pleasure, either; there was evidence of dissatisfaction in her, made all too real when she began to speak.

'You really have no idea what you're doing, do you?' Her voice maintained the level of sheer steely confidence she had had throughout, but now it was tempered with irritation, and Amy was left with the sinking fear that she might be left like this, bereft and unsatisfied. Her entire being rebelled against the idea, 'Bloody eighteen year olds, I swear. You look all tight and bouncy, but put 'em to a practical test and all you can do is fumble! Cocktease indeed... But better learn fast, Amy...'

Those caustic, addictive fingernails left Amy's forearms, and she felt the tickling caress of Gwen's fingertips moving down her sides, and up to her chest. Gwen was positioned kneeling just above her collarbone, and simply reaching back gave her immediate access to Amy's pert and pale breasts. Gwen rolled her eyes as her palms slid over those soft, warm mounds; if there was one thing youth had going for it, it was perkiness.

Amy jumped, moaned into a mouthful of Gwen's flesh at the first stinging flick of a fingernail across her nipple, already hard and tight with lust. Gwen laughed, repeating the action with the opposite breast, the pain tugging at the string connecting her tits and cunt. Unconsciously, she squeezed her thighs together... and then screamed.

'Keep your legs open!' Gwen snapped, releasing the squeezing pinch from Amy's pink bud. 'Don't stop licking, either. And what have I told you about keeping quiet? Do I have to teach you everything?'

With a cluck of her tongue, Gwen tilted back a little, pressing her hips harder into Amy's mouth and positioning her hands, one on each breast. Her fingers fanned out, probing the supple flesh, engulfing the young woman's bust in her grip. For a moment she simply held there, touching the sweet, clearly mostly innocent girl and allowing her tongue to experiment between her legs. But that was merely preamble; gentleness was not on Gwen's mind, for reasons she still didn't fully understand. Perhaps this strange little piece of ass had ignited something new inside her mind, perhaps the scanner she had been carrying- where had that thing gone, anyway?- had been correct and she really was an alien after all... but she hardly cared in the moment.

What she was usually like meant nothing, now.

Her fingers tensed, curved inward. The points of her fingernails bit into Amy's tender bust, five sharpened edges of pain at each breast, dragging slowly upward toward that aching central point. Mercifully, it was the softer pads of Gwen's fingers that slid around Amy's nipples, holding the pink tips in a gentle grip, tugging upwards with just enough force to make her breasts bounce and jiggle under her touch. Below, Amy drove her tongue between Gwen's gooey lips, sticky juices coating her tongue, desperate to please before those fingers kept going. Gwen merely sighed.

'I said learn fast, Amy,' She said, shaking her head with mocking solemnity. She seemed like a teacher, exasperated with a poorly performing student, 'Still haven't learned where the clitoris is, little girl? Here, let me show you...'

Another exasperated sigh, and Gwen lifted herself off of Amy's probing tongue, one hand momentarily gripping her hair and pulling, positioning her in a certain way. She pointed.

'There. Suck on that, jailbait. Leave my pussy alone, just focus. Fucking teenagers, I swear. Why am I even bothering?'

Those fingers returned to her nipples, their squeezing giving Amy all the motivation she needed to slide her lips around the bundle of nerves that Gwen had so helpfully pointed out to her, the tip of her tongue flicking out over it. When Gwen shuddered, Amy knew she was on the right track, and redoubled her efforts over the hard little nub.

In turn, Gwen had begun using Amy's nipples almost as reins, tugging and pulling them to encourage Amy to repeat certain actions, or try something new when the Welsh woman got bored. It was a constant game of tag between the pain and Amy's obedience, though not one the redhead was quite sure she wanted to win; she didn't know what was wrong with her, but each new jolt of discomfort was a lightning bolt to her own clit. Soon, she was sure her pussy was dripping onto the grass below, very possibly staining her skirt.

Slowly but surely, Amy sank into herself. Every tugging jolt of pain, every movement of her tongue, the heavy weight of the woman pressed against her and taunting instructions from above sent her spiraling down into her own mind, in a haze where the only thing that mattered was completing the job in front of her. The pain at her chest and the dull aching wetness between her legs seemed somehow intertwined, the two sensations mirrored in the other. Her skin prickled with heat, and if it wasn't for the occasional halfhearted breeze blowing across her bare skin, Amy would probably have forgotten that she was even outside, much less anywhere as mundane as Leadworth.

She was getting what she really wanted...

When Gwen redoubled the pressure on her tender nipples, Amy obediently sucked harder without even needing a word of encouragement, playing her tongue across Gwen's clit in as many ways as she could think of; long, slow licks with the flat of her tongue were followed by teasing, tickling lashes with the tip, the kind that made the Welsh woman moan and buck her hips against her face. When she thought to employ her teeth, Gwen tipped back her head and growled in predatory delight, the sound practically making Amy's toes curl.

Amy tilted her head away to take in a deeper breath than her previous position would allow, and Gwen looked back down, eyes glinting dangerously.

'Almost there,' She panted, grabbing Amy's hair and forcing her back into place, lips back on that fizzing bundle of nerves. 'You finish what you started, jailbait. Yeah, like that...'

Those thighs beside her head tensed, pressing in against her ears as she sucked harder, trying to pull the woman atop her into orgasm. Like a good girl. She wanted nothing more; to watch Gwen shudder and moan her approval, to be good... but only in the hopes that she would be treated in kind, of course.

Yes.

Amy grunted as Gwen suddenly tensed, pressed her clit harder into her mouth. A fresh flood of juices coated her chin, as above her the Welsh woman trembled from deep in her core, orgasm washing over her body in waves. Amy had never seen another woman cum before, and she watched, spellbound, as Gwen's pale skin now gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat, red and hot as she rode Amy's mouth to climax. Her fingers tightened their grip on Amy's nipples as mindless pleasure wracked her body, the pain driving into Amy's body like a jackhammer. But through the fog of arousal, she could only whimper and wait out the older woman's orgasm.

Time passed, and Gwen relaxed, sliding herself off of Amy and over to one side, kneeling on the grass. Her breath came out in harsh pants, spilling hotly against Amy's face as Gwen bowed over her, kissing her harshly. It was an act of pure, indulgent eroticism; Gwen tasted herself on Amy's tongue, licking the juices from her chin, in the grips of maddening, hedonistic arousal. Amy could only whimper, the sheer force of it turning her limp and pliable in Gwen's grip.

And then she was gone. The frenzy that had possessed her seemed to have evaporated, and she separated from Amy without a moment of hesitation, looking away and pulling her clothes back on. Amy stared, bereft and almost dizzied by the sudden lack of intimate contact. She whimpered, a high, pathetic sound; had she been good? Would she... Would Gwen finally touch her?

'G-gwen?' She managed, as the dark haired woman pulled her jeans up raising the zip into place. The thought that she was preparing to simply leave her like this sent a kind of clawing, desperate fear through her. She couldn't do it alone; getting off by herself could never match up, she just knew it... But when it came time to actually vocalize her desire, Amy felt herself coming up short. The words just wouldn't come.

'What?' Even so, Gwen turned, eyeing Amy with something approaching condescension. 'Oh, right. Teenagers these days, just can't be patient...'

She made her wait as she arranged her clothes again, rebuttoning her shirt, and straightening herself out as Amy writhed with desperate need on the grass, growing more frantic by the second. By the time Gwen finally got around to placing her fingers to the sopping wet entrance of Amy's sex, the sheer shock of the contact was a revelation. Her hips bucked.

'Eager!' Gwen said smoothly, drawing her hand back until Amy was still. 'Remember, we're still outside... there's a road right there. If you don't sit still and be quiet, we might get caught. Hell, if you're not still and quiet I might just yell out and make sure you're caught...'

Amy whimpered, every muscle in her body tensing in an effort to keep still. She knew that if she let her mind wander, she would reach out, her body would react and she would clasp Gwen to her, all mindless lust and desperation. She pressed her back into the grass, the earth now warm below her. For an agonizing, trembling moment, Amy held herself still, awaiting Gwen's touch, near salivating for it.

'That's better...' The older woman nodded her approval, sliding her fingers up the soft skin on the insides of Amy's thighs, ending the motion by rubbing up against her pussy. 'I wonder how many fingers you use, when you're all alone. Just one? Two?'

She punctuated each question by slipping a finger into Amy's dripping hole, watching as she gritted her teeth, strangled moans leaving her throat with every inch that pushed inside her. She tried her hardest to stop herself from moaning, as Gwen leaned in, her fingers separating and pushing against Amy's wet walls, long, slow thrusts sliding all the way into her. She nodded; both in approval of what was being done to her, and in answer to the question. Two had always been her limit, and the pushing motion Gwen was doing was bordering in discomfort as it was.

In response, Gwen smiled, the gentle smile of one utterly confident in her position. Amy knew what was coming next, and though her expression turned helpless, she didn't move. She wasn't sure she could, anymore. She might never move again; her mind had filled with dark thoughts the moment Gwen had entered her, of kneeling by the woman's side, of being used, over and over...

So, so wrong...

When the inevitable happened, Amy could only just barely choke down her groan. Gwen pushed another finger into her, watching Amy shudder with that curious mix of discomfort and pleasure, her pussy making wet noises as Gwen fucked her, stretched her out of her comfort zone. She shifted position to place more weight onto Amy's chest, the flat of her palm pressed down to keep her in position as her wrist rotated, turning the fingers buried in Amy's sopping cunt. From her new position, Gwen's palm was free to grind against Amy's clit, sending new spasms of pleasure arcing through the redhead's body like electricity. Amy broke, moaning out loud, the sound gilding the air with sensuality, making Gwen growl with predatory glee in return.

'Do you think I'm done?' Cool eyes peered over Amy's hips. Gwen laid a toothy, nipping kiss to the inside of her thigh, the nail of her one remaining finger prodding at Amy's red and swollen pussy lips, 'I have four fingers, Amy...'

'I... I don't think I can take it, Gwen,' Amy squirmed helplessly, rolling her hips to take in more of Gwen's fingers. 'It hurts...' Her lips quivered, she grappled with what her body demanded she say next, before buckling, 'Please don't stop...'

'Why would I stop?' She hissed, and Amy yelped as her fingers grouped together, filling the redhead's cunt so completely, pain and pleasure competing, filling her body, burning her nerves so harshly that she tipped over the edge. She came, breath fluttering in her throat as her eyes rolled back, body tensing as waves of ecstasy rocked her to her core. She babbled, thanking Gwen, groveling breathlessly, her body nearly glowing with pleasure.

From a distant place, she heard Gwen laughing, felt her mouth cover her own, swallowing her moans, bodies entwined as she writhed. She came screaming, came to pieces, came apart as Gwen kissed her, took ownership of her body as climax rocked her.  

When she came back to reality, she was looking up at the sky unobstructed. Gwen lay beside her, panting heavily, her eyes closed. She looked strangely peaceful, at odds with the animal power and lust she had shown before. In fact, she looked like she was sleeping.

Amy felt satisfied, down to her bones, in a way that made her muscles melt like butter, relaxed and limp; it felt like she could dissolve into the grass at any moment. Yet even as relaxed as she was, now that the insanity of lust had lifted, Amy became painfully aware that she was half naked just out of sight of her village. Her eyes cast about, searching for her bra but coming up empty. She settled for pulling down her shirt and replacing her panties, feeling them soak through in seconds. She blushed.

A gentle breeze blew overhead, cooling her sweating body. The frenzy had passed, and in its absence was a resounding silence, an abiding peace and satisfaction, nearing euphoria. Her mind seemed to float away, eyes drifting closed; if Gwen wanted to be unresponsive, there was no harm in drifting off into daydreams for a little while. There would be consequences later, Amy could tell, even if none came to mind right at that second; instead, she remembered why she had come out here, as the realization hit that she was still deeply tired. Inexorably, she slipped away...




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 01



******

She awoke as the sun dipped low in the sky, with an ache in her muscles and a tingle in her pussy. Her long limbs had splayed wide in her sleep, the grass immediately around her having been flattened into a rather comprehensive imprint of her body. She blinked, her eyes focusing slowly, adjusting to the light, as the memories of earlier swept through her mind.

Gwen was exactly where Amy had left her, still soundly sleeping, her back turned to the redhead. She sat up, leaning back on her hands, the dampness up her back leaving her with no doubt that there were grass stains running the length of her shirt, and probably plenty of other places besides. She wouldn't have been overly shocked to look in a mirror and find grass stains on the skin of her ass.

Though her clothes were ruined, of far greater concern to Amy was Gwen, and what they had done together. The desires she had experienced... they weren't new, but at the same time, she had never dared share them with anyone before, let alone a complete stranger. She wasn't even sure she could be attracted to women... what had come over her?

It hadn't... hadn't been right...

Nobody had seen her, that was the main thing. She had been allowed to sleep uninterrupted, and she knew from experience that, though there was little danger in napping in public, any given citizen of Leadworth would wake her up without thinking anything of it. Sometimes it seemed like genuine concern, but most of the time, Amy had pegged the interruptions as simple nosiness. And sleeping here beside Gwen, a newcomer, would definitely have aroused the gossip monger in anyone.

No, she was safe. Nobody but she and Gwen knew what they had done.

But Amy still couldn't shake the feeling that she hadn't been acting herself. Gwen was a stranger, after all... Who knew who she really was. Had she drugged Amy somehow? Perhaps as she dozed in the sun, happy to find a fresh piece of ass? Who was she, anyway?

Instead of trying to find out, Amy stood, eyeing the Welsh woman with suspicion. She didn't want to- couldn't- stay here. She had to go. Before Gwen woke up, she had to go. She had to... not be here.

Was she afraid that all that hot, sexy, mystifying stuff would come back if she was still here when Gwen woke up? Yes, especially if it turned out Gwen had engineered it in the first place. But she was more concerned with what it meant for her; the fact was, it all felt like it had come from within herself, but try as she might, Amy couldn't discern precisely what had sparked it all. And now, in the warm light of late afternoon, all she could feel was subtly wrong, like everything inside of her had been taken out and replaced just a little bit differently. She felt off kilter, like if she tried to walk she would just slide sideways off the face of the earth.

But more than that, she felt an undeniable urge to run. She was full of energy, it screamed at her, run. Her muscles still ached with the memory of their previous tenseness, but run. Gwen still slept there on the grass, insensible to the world, so run!

Which was what she did, feet pounding at the grass, taking her away from Gwen. She laughed. For now, in this moment, just for a little while... she was in that no place, where there was no earth to hold her down. Where Leadworth was but a distant memory, and she needn't concern herself with what the people there might think. For now, she was free. She had experienced something that simply didn't happen in the quiet English village, and as confusing and strange as it had been, it had disconnected Leadworth from her, at least for a little while.

It felt like a big blue box had crash landed on the shed in her garden...

Amelia Pond ran, keeping herself parallel with the row of hedges, seeing their end fast approaching. She spun as she turned at the end, giggling madly, knowing the time for repressed sexual guilt would be later, in her room tonight, when she would ask herself what kind of woman would actually want those kinds of things? But for now, she could run.

Toward Leadworth.

And nestled in the grass, all but forgotten, lay the small, palm sized device Gwen had had with her. It was a Torchwood thing, of course; Gwen wasn't exactly here for pleasure... well, she hadn't been originally.

It was an alien thing, of course; salvaged from the wreck of a ship Jack had identified as a Judoon prison-carrier. Some kind of scanner, used to detect anomalous temporal and genetic signatures. Apparently the Judoon were like space policemen, and they hunted...

Other aliens, really.

Which was why it was important that this particular scanner was flashing an alert tone. Jack had tweaked the preferences, made it work for the English language, and this one was currently displaying three English words. Words that would have been very important to Gwen, had she been awake to see them: "Extraterrestrial presence detected."

At least, that was what it said, until Amy had fled the scanning range...

**********

That night, for the fourth time in recent history, an alien appeared in Leadworth.

For the briefest of moments, the field just beyond where Gwen and Amy had met lit up with an amber glow, skittering traceries of light threading their way through the grass as it dispersed. The glow left behind a humanoid figure.

It was swearing.

Or rather, he was swearing, a deep voice spewing out the kind of salty language that could make anyone blush. The kind of language he reserved only for special occasions, like anniversaries, or complex spacio-temporal events. The fact that he was currently aflame with temporal discharge quite possibly aided in giving his words an appropriately urgent tone, as Artron energy and other vortex-related elements sloughed off of him in waves, congealing in the grass like cooling candle wax before dissolving completely.

When archeologists come to excavate the ruins of Leadworth in several thousand years time, they will find that everything within a meter radius of where the figure now stood, extending for several hundred meters straight down, appears to be substantially older than the surrounding countryside. Time energy leached into the soil, prematurely aging more than a few unsuspecting earthworms, and an extremely startled- then extremely dead- mole.

The figure shivered suddenly, drawing his arms in close to his body. It had been daylight mere moments prior, and now he found himself in the middle of someone else's night. Moreover, it had been tropical where he had been, a marked difference from chilly England. He wasn't dressed for it.

He cast his eyes around, but none of the landmarks were familiar, of course. But that was fine; there were plenty of places he hadn't yet visited on his moon, he might have just...

It was then that he looked up, and saw the unfamiliar stars. Saw the moon, for the first time in his life. He took a long, deep breath, and slid his hands into his pockets. Sander Hackett took in the stars, and sighed.

'Well, shit.'

To be continued...

Enjoyed the new direction? Got something to say? I live for your feedback, fellows! Please comment or vote if you can.



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 02



Author's Note: This series build off of elements of the previous Panic Moon series. To get the full experience, it is recommended, though not necessary, to read that one first.

Hello again fellows! Here's the second chapter of my little experiment. Once again, it's a spin off, but you'll learn some new things about the main series too. Many thanks to my support crew, Isabel, D, LogicalDreamer and Allyourbase, for their creative might and encouragement. And to all the readers who let me know that they're enjoying things.

Like what you see? Please comment or vote! I love your feedback, guys! Enjoy!

*

Gwen was blushing. Must be a sign of the end times. 

Jack sat opposite her at the too-small table, the noise of the little village pub burbling around them. There was always a little village pub, and they all looked exactly the same, like a factory had spat them out, one by one. Or maybe that was just his perception of them; after travelling the universe and seeing bars that existed in multiple dimensions simultaneously, earthbound things were always going to be a bit bland. And there was certainly nothing here that would make a woman of the world like Gwen blush.

In fact, if he really put his mind to it, he couldn't remember ever seeing her blush before.

'So, none of us managed to get lucky today,' He said, rotating his glass idly on the table. He had meant it as a status update, given that Owen had opted to stay up in his room in that depressingly tiny motel working, and Gwen hadn't seen him since they had split up to investigate, but Jack noted with interest that she blinked conspicuously, seeming to nearly choke on her drink. Interesting...

'Yeah, looks like we'll be stuck here a while longer...' He tried to sound appropriately put out as he continued, but the fact was he was quite looking forward to finding out what made every life form that had ever come to Earth give this little town such a wide berth. 

And at the same time, he tried to disguise his inspection of Gwen. She had come in with grass stains on her knees, disheveled as all hell... if he hadn't known any better, he would've sworn...

But no. Couldn't be.

Jack realized that his eyes had wandered under the table; he was staring at her knees again. It couldn't have just been a fall, like she claimed. The dirt and muck was too ingrained, like she'd been down there for quite a while. What had she been doing?

'Uh, Gwen?' He remembered that he was Jack Harkness, and that if need be, Jack Harkness could be extremely blunt. This was a mission, after all. This was work. It was a status report, nothing more.

But she wasn't even listening. Her head had turned, body twisted in her seat almost entirely around, and it didn't seem like she could even hear him. He followed her gaze to the other end of the bar, where a young redhead dressed as a policewoman- dressed as, not was, that skirt was far too short to be authentic- had her tongue down some young man's throat. Jack could see the appeal, and judging by the length of the girl's legs he deemed the man she was attacking to be very lucky indeed, but Gwen's interest mystified him.

'Gwen,' A little more insistently this time, bringing her back to him. She turned around to face him and, after a moment's silent thought, she stood. 

'I'm... going,' She said haltingly, voice a little higher than usual. If she had been blushing before, now she was practically glowing. 'Tired, you know.'

He could see her trying her hardest not to speed up and attract any excess attention from him, as she almost threw herself out the door. Jack watched it shut, before he turned his gaze back to the ersatz policewoman.

Interesting... ***********

'There's a man sleeping under the tree out back.'

'Hmm?' Amy raised an eyebrow, confident that there was nothing in that idea worth saying aloud. There were no homeless people in Leadworth, it was too remote; chances are that whoever was out there was just someone from the pub, sleeping it off a little before he went home. Why even bother mentioning it?

'There's a man,' Mels repeated. 'Sleeping. Outside. Never seen him before. 'S a bit interesting, thought you might want to know.'

'Yeah?' She leaned back against the wall, crossed her arms. Whenever Mels led with a sentence like that, what she was actually saying was "I've found some trouble, come look." Amy had been lucky so far, in that much of what Mels did and found hadn't reflected too poorly on her friends; god knows, Amy didn't need the kind of reputation Mels had, on top of just being seen as an otherwise harmless weirdo. It wouldn't have been a good look.

Normally, she would have avoided even the potential for the kind of trouble Mels could dig up, but tonight was different. In some ways it was a good kind of different; she'd taken to entertaining here on her off days just to earn some semblance of a steady paycheck, and tonight she had been... popular. Business was good, but what was troubling was why...

She had been distracted by reminders of Gwen all night, mostly from within. She had been trying to keep it suppressed, but perhaps her performance tonight had been possessed of a little more verve than usual. Every little touch sparked off that throbbing deep inside her...

'What's he like?' She asked, smiling as Mels winked. Her enthusiasm was undeniably infectious.

'Ooh... Tall, dark... the usual for mysterious strangers,' Mels said, gently extracting a bottle from the bar and, with a furtive glance about the place, taking a swig. 'Doesn't look like he's been living rough or anything.'

'And you want me to go out and have a look with you?' Amy said flatly. 'Maybe poke him with a stick?'

'What?' She stretched, ran a hand through her hair and bounced back on light feet. 'No, no. I'm going home. Just thought you might want to go check out the new guy.'

With that, Mels gave a theatrical wink and turned on her heel. As she walked away, she threw a glance at Amy over her shoulder, looking her friend up and down.

'By the way, you look great in that costume, very... leggy, as always,' She grinned. 'Perhaps a little too leggy. Pull your skirt down, girl!'

Amy looked down as the doors swung closed behind Mels, and rolled her eyes. Of course her skirt had ridden up and exposed a little more than was strictly ladylike; it had been that sort of day. That... thing with Gwen seemed to have opened the floodgates, and now she couldn't stop thinking about it. About that. Being manhandled in the grass, and all the things that came with it. And though they were only fleeting images, her mind had taken to producing vivid imaginings of what that would look like, with each and every guy who had talked to her that night. Each time it happened, she got ever more flustered, until she could barely hold a continuous train of thought together.

And when she got flustered, she started drinking. Not exactly the smartest course of action for a woman whose job involved sexy costumes and slightly loose behavior, but it at least made the insistent nagging of her biology a little easier to bear, and blurred the line to the point where she could no longer decide whether it was her persistent arousal or the booze that had added that extra energy to her "work" tonight. 

She decided that she would go outside, after all. If nothing else, the fresh air would do her good, as would being away from all these people. And she just knew that Mels would quiz her about the stranger the next day; she had an impeccable memory when it came to these kinds of things. It was time to take in the sights.

Amy had already decided that the night air would be cool in that comfortable way that tugged at the skin without being unpleasant. Leadworth was like that; the nights felt exactly the same until winter rolled around and made everything unbearable. The sky was cloudless as usual, stars pinpricking the heavens. Yes, this was Leadworth, alright. 

Lo and behold, there was indeed a man leaning against the large tree behind the pub, in a pool of shadow cast by the neighboring floodlights filtering through the branches above. But he didn't seem to be outright asleep, as Mels had assumed. His posture suggested at least a modicum of alertness, and he seemed to stir as she approached cautiously. 

He heard the footsteps clacking on the cracked concrete, and his jaw clenched. Not another gawker, surely... The first couple he had felt comfortable ignoring and just pretending he was asleep, but by now Sander wanted to scream. It hadn't taken him long to realize the unpleasant truth of his new situation: he was stuck in the past. His first clue had been the presence of paved roads, but his fears had congealed into cold realization once the first car- with wheels!- had trundled past him; this was no mere holdover from the bad old days, keeping their roads through nostalgia or obstinacy. He had travelled through time.

The obvious course to take had been to simply wait. If, as he suspected, he was here due to the Eternity Engine backfiring, then he could count on Mara and his team to recall him to his native present. All he would need to do was wait a few hours at most, until they noticed he was missing, check the destination logs and reverse the process. Simple.

Granted, as the hours had dripped past, he had begun to lose confidence in that plan. Linear time had never felt so slow...

Which had left him with the singular question of what he could do with himself until he was pulled out. Sander's surroundings had convinced him that he was currently situated in the midst of the twenty-first century, so helping himself would be downright impossible unless he could secure some alien intervention, and with nowhere near enough on him to trade or sell, he would have to rely on charity there. And that went both ways; all that had been brought through with him was an ID chip implanted in his hand attached to a bank account that wouldn't exist for over a millennium, and a short range signal beacon he had been replacing at the time of his... dislocation.

One moment in 3378, doing some routine maintenance. The next in a field, a thousand years earlier and suddenly a whole lot poorer.

In a wider sense, he felt the kind of isolation he imagined many time travelers went in groups to combat. The town he had been dropped in was tiny, but the people in it seemed so, so much tinier. He walked by them, their mere existences so transitory it was almost painful; from his point of view, Sander was literally walking through a city of ghosts, suddenly made flesh. Even the ground beneath his feet was dead, wiped away by cosmic inevitability before he had even been born. Though he stood inside history, he couldn't bring himself to reach out and touch it, for fear of smudging it. 

He wasn't the Doctor. He wouldn't presume to toy with the past... Any more than he would be doing in the subjective future, anyway. 

Even the graves these people left behind had been erased, the ashes reduced to their component molecules and dispersed to the universe... It was downright existential.

Which was why he almost had a meltdown when he cracked open an eye and found himself face to face with a familiar one. He flew to his feet.

'No!' He shook his head, back pressed against the tree, eyes locked on Amy's. 'No, no, no! No! I am not dealing with this right now!'

And he was moving, giving Amy a wide berth as he passed her, heading... anywhere away from Amy. This was wrong. He couldn't be here, it had never happened. He and Amy weren't supposed to meet until their appointment on that far flung asteroid. This was exactly the kind of causality violating thing he had been trying to avoid! And she was following him!

'Um, I'm sorry I woke you,' Normally she wouldn't persist around a man as clearly agitated as this one, but a combination of drink and her- by now rather irritating- desire had left her bold. 'I didn't mean to startle you...'

'You didn't... Am I in fucking Leadworth?' He spoke over his shoulder, talking through sheer directionless panic, mind working furiously. How would this change things? Amy's timeline was already so fragmented... 'Actually, that would make sense. When in doubt the Engine's programming would revert it to the first target on record, which would be here given how much time...'

'Sorry? You're talking really fast, there...' She kept up with him as he passed over the road, despite her rather unwieldy shoes. Given the number of handsy men she met in her line of work, she had become something of an expert in staying upright in heels, no matter what pressures were exerted upon her.

'Why are you following me?' He said, eyes wide. 'Stop it. I can't see you now. I swear, every little thing I do is a fucking divergence... Why are you still following me?'

That almost made her stop, but the truth was, the simple truth... was that she knew exactly why she was following him at this point. Without realizing it, some deep and abiding memory had been called to, and her legs were practically moving on their own.

'Because the last time I met a stranger who talked about things that didn't make sense as fast as you do,' She paused, close to stopping completely. She couldn't believe that she was going to let the first person in recent memory who didn't think she was crazy into this... 'I... had a really interesting time...'

'Well, fuck!' If there had been people out on the streets at this time of night, they would have been staring, Sander had yelled so loud. 'Now I'm your goddamn replacement Doctor?'

And then everything froze. 

They had walked into an alley, where only indirect light filtered in, bouncing off of poorly maintained pavement. It gave Amy's shocked expression an eerie cast; Sander really felt the established timeline snapping like a bone in that moment, looking at her face. All due to one stupid comment. 

'What?' She was sure she hadn't heard that right. She couldn't have...

'Nothing, Amy,' He said, shaking his head... Fuck!

Again she froze, and this time Sander winced at the realization. One slip up he could have put down to simple familiarity, but two? That was just careless, and a man who spent his time building machines to pervert the course of time and causality should never be careless. Amy was staring, and for once, Sander had nothing to say to her. It was... a different feeling.

'What was that?' She took a step forward, he took a step back. Even a single divergence in the timeline could destabilize everything he had been working toward, at best, and every interaction he had with Amy counted as a massive divergence. She had never met him in Leadworth, and now... 'How do you know my name?'

'Look, I must have heard it in the bar... pub, I mean,' He shook his head violently. 'Doesn't even matter. I don't matter. Think of me as a drifter, and don't follow me.'

He started running. His future depended on it; destabilizing the past, especially the past of a figure so central to his own life, could adversely affect the future, and any change would change who he was. All he was, all anyone was, was their memories, and if those were to change...

Luckily, he could easily outstrip her if he put his mind to it; as good at heels as she was, add in some uneven ground and low light conditions, and even Amy would find it hard to follow in them. Not to mention the tight skirt... easy on the eyes, not so easy on the gait. She stared, watching his back recede into the distance, noting that he had been oddly composed for a man ostensibly sleeping one off outside. 

Her heart pounded in her chest. He had said Doctor, she knew he had. Oh, it was possible he had just heard the name from some gossip or another, it was a small town after all. But that was the point; it was a small town, and she had never seen him or even heard that anyone new had blown in. Besides, this was the closest thing to a closed circle Amy could think of; the people here didn't just volunteer information. 

And as she thought, another cold fact slid into her mind: he had only said Doctor. Not Raggedy Doctor.

He had spoken, and in his voice it hadn't been a fantasy. He hadn't been talking about an imaginary person...

She shivered, as she had been all night, in the presence of every single person she had talked to. Something was definitely wrong with her, and now this stranger... She realized she was smiling.

Finally, something strange was happening in Leadworth. 

Again. ************

Morning sun shone on his face. His expression shifted, distaste written across his features. He grunted.

This was an important time. So long as he sat here with his eyes closed, he could be anywhere. It was possible that, during the night, he had been... retrieved. He could open his eyes and be back at home, a thousand years and more away from that little planet and back on his moon, with his girlfriend and his team. And the work. Forever the work.

Sander cracked open an eyelid, momentarily dazzled by the sunlight. He swore.

Earthbound trees, under earthbound clouds, lit by earthbound sunlight. It was all so painfully limited, and so long as he was here, so was he. The waiting would be what killed him, in the end; if the past sixteen years of scheming had taught Sander anything, it was that he was not a man that was comfortable with inaction.

But then, there were little moments that hit him all at once and then flitted away, like spells of dizziness. He would look up and see the sky, and remember that he was on Earth. He would look down, and realize that he was standing on the human home planet. It was nearly a revelatory moment, before he remembered that he was stuck here.

Unwilling to stay in denial for much longer, Sander opened his eyes, the muscles in his legs tightening as he stretched. He felt like hell, probably looked it too; sleeping rough tended to do that to a person. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it down as a dozen birds chirped from the trees around him. The noise was surprising; Trismestigius had always been depressingly lacking in wildlife, and he hadn't really heard birdsong in years. Just another thing he was going to have to get used to, here in the backwaters of spacetime. 

He lifted himself up off of the grass, brushing himself off as he did so. He stood, ready to move... and stopped. He was at a total loose end. He was all prepared to get going, but where would he go? The fact was, he had no money, nothing but the clothes on his back, nobody knew him, and nobody could know him. His little run in with Amy was potentially damaging enough. 

The logical thing to do was to leave Leadworth, just pick a direction and start walking. Put some distance between himself and Amy, disentangle those two timelines before they ended up knotting. Problem was, location was important.

He suspected that the Engine had backfired and lodged him in the past of the first timeline it had targeted. Amy's timeline. And Leadworth was the crucible of Amy's life, the formative mold of her character. Everything she was came from here, it was only natural that the Engine had aimed for the largest target. He had to stay put if he wanted to give Mara the best chance of recalling him. 

Of course, after this length of time, his hopes of being returned to his native present were becoming a little dim. It was an academic concern anyway; it wasn't as though there was a direct pathway between his current present and his native present. Theoretically Mara could have spent days reprogramming the Eternity Engine to pick him up and drop him back home, and set the target for a minute after he had arrived in Leadworth. Hell, he could have been back before he had even left, and all the effort it would have taken was the shifting of a few digits within the machine's targeting system. The fact that he was still here, hours later, didn't bode well, either for his prospects of ever leaving, or the temporal accuracy of his Engine. 




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 02



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...




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...




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 02



But that could change...

He opened the door carefully, peered into a room he was unsurprised to see empty. The multiform must have a way to sense things approaching the door, it had to be hiding. Which made this room a rather unpleasant prospect to have to enter, but sometimes big plans require bold steps...

'I'm here to speak with prisoner zero,' Sander cast his eyes around the darkened corners of the room, knowing even as he did so that the alien's slithering form was probably just outside of his vision at all times, mouthful of fangs at the ready. Still, he persisted, 'Come on, I know you're in here. Just come on out. This is about the Atraxi.'

He heard the hiss, grinning. That got a reaction...

'Who are you?' Zero said, and Sander could feel it moving right behind him. Experience told him it would kill him if he saw it directly. Criminals... 'How did you know I was hiding here?'

'I'm a time traveler, and I've been watching this show for a while,' Sander forced himself not to turn around. 'I'm about a thousand years out of my way, but I know who you are, and I know one thing we have in common. We're both stranded here.'

'That's nice. But it's not a reason to let you live now that you've found me out...'

'This is, though: in five year's time you're going to be killed, and I know how. I also know a way of getting you off of this rock.'

'... I'm listening.'

Sander turned, suddenly face to face with the ungodly offspring of an angler fish and a boa constrictor. It hung from the ceiling, but he had better sense than to follow the sinuous length of its body with his eyes. Instead, he kept eye contact with the multiform, forcing confidence into his gaze while staring down his imminent perforation.

'Five years from now the Doctor will return here,' He began. 'When he does he'll attract the attention of the Atraxi, who'll come in all guns blazing and threaten to incinerate the planet with you on it. I know you don't care about that, but you don't know the Doctor. He'll stop that from happening, turn you over to the Atraxi and then tell them off for good measure. You'll die. I'm offering you a way out.'

'That's charitable of you,' Though Zero's mouth opened wide, it spoke without ever needing to use it. The act was merely one of intimidation, though Sander knew better than to flinch, 'Why?'

'A trade. You have something I want, and I have something you want.'

'What do you have that I want, human? You say you're stranded, what can you possibly have to tempt me?'

'You came here through a crack in time, but now you're stranded because you have no ship,' Sander said, reaching into his back pocket. Zero hissed and reared back, apparently more used to people drawing guns on it than Sander realized, but it relaxed when it saw the object in question, 'You can find one with this. Signal beacon. Just point and click. Hitch a ride, hijack one, I don't care. Just you need to leave.'

Prisoner zero examined the small, metallic device Sander had brought with him from the future, then the man himself. His expression of flat confidence remained, even though his heart was racing. He was no fool, he was well aware he was in a room with a dangerous criminal; it was entirely possible that he could die here in this dingy, cobweb filled room in this backwater town. That could happen.

'And what do you want in return for this?' The alien said finally. 'You said trade.'

'Just leave the perception filter on this room when you go,' Sander said. 'I need a place to hide myself, and this will do just fine. The Atraxi will follow your trail offworld, but you'll have a five year head start, and there's a lot of ground you can cover in that amount of time. You'll be home free, right out of their jurisdiction.'

'And right into the Shadow Proclamation's,' Zero mused. 'I could kill you now and take the beacon from your corpse. It would eliminate a witness, and I am a criminal, you know.'

'So am I,' He replied. 'I'm Sander Hackett.'

'Really now?' The multiform drew back, silver-grey skin glistening wetly in the sunlight. 'All the way out here? How interesting... Big fan, by the way...'

'Yeah, I figured you might be. So, do we have a deal?' Sander looked away, carefully leaving out the part about him being innocent of most of the crime's he was accused of. One does not look a gift horse in the mouth, and he was going to pry every advantage he could get from this particular horse, no matter how uncomfortable this particular lie made him.

'Yes, I think we do,' Zero nodded, the gesture odd looking on a creature without a conventional body. It blurred for a moment, form shifting and changing, coming out the other end of the process in the form of a young woman; Sander realized that he was only familiar with the forms the alien could take five years from now. Those comatose folks were probably inaccessible to it now, 'The perception filter extends some distance into the hallway. The people here won't even think of walking toward the door.'

A human woman held out her hand expectantly, but everything about the way it moved indicated that Zero was not at home in a human body. The woman moved like a marionette, fingers curling awkwardly around the beacon as Sander pressed it into Zero's palm. The creature looked at him like it was waiting for something to happen.

'And now you need to go,' Sander said, gesturing to the door. 'Escape. I don't want to see you around here anymore.'

'Very well,' It stepped on strangely heavy feet out into the hall, moving down the hall as though it owned the place. 'See you around...'

'I hope not,' Sander lilted, closing the door on the alien. He could count on the multiform to take care of itself; it would be out of here as soon as it could. Leadworth was safe enough... well, as safe as any town featuring a tear in the fabric of space and time could be. And when the Atraxi finally arrived, the Doctor would have to figure something else out, if those big snowflakes weren't smart enough to figure out that prisoner zero was no longer here.

He turned back into his new base of operations... and even as a broke, homeless vagrant he thought he could do better. Years of only having one alien occupant had taken their toll on the place, filling it with cobwebs and grime. Aside from a single table there was no furniture, and the walls echoed with depression and neglect. 

'Alright this is going to require a bit of work,' He said, clasping his hands together. He waited silently for a moment, allowing the psychotic alien criminal to get some distance on him, before he went for the door. ************

An hour later, he had at least made the abandoned room livable. Normally, he would have thought the actions he had taken to get to this point to be rather shameful, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

So, he had done what he had to do. It wouldn't have been the first time, and at least here on Earth... nobody had gotten hurt. He had left the room, snuck through the house with Amy sleeping upstairs, and... taken what he needed. 

The kitchen had yielded a number of cans of food, mostly small things filled with tuna, or cans of beans- which Sander had found rather amusing. A broom leaning against a wall outside had allowed him to clean up his impromptu living space adequately enough, and devoid of dust the place had begun looking less like a tomb. A hall closet upstairs had gifted him a change of clothes, perhaps the only set of men's clothes inside an otherwise decidedly feminine house. And most importantly, the bathroom cabinet had provided him with a spare toothbrush and tube of toothpaste, that he employed by the window of his new home, vigorously. 

He was still dangerously out of his element, penniless and essentially in a holding pattern until something changed, but at least he could survive like this for a while.

'Alright!' He said to no one in particular. 'Got myself a hobo-base... In a secret room in somebody else's house.'

After a pause, he sighed and turned to the door, ready to greet Leadworth anew.

'Yeah, nothing creepy about this at all...'

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 03



Author's Note: This series builds off of elements of the previous Panic Moon series. To get the full experience, it is recommended, though not necessary, to read that one first.

Greetings, fellows! Here's the latest chapter of Rising, complete with a certain newcomer. Many thanks to my beta readers LogicalDreamer and Allyourbase, and if you like what you see, please comment or vote. I live for your feedback, fellows.

Enjoy!

*********

'What're you doing, stranger?'

Sander had grown up rich, and in doing so had been taught certain skills at a young age. One of those was controlling and suppressing his emotional reactions to the things that happened around him. Another was acting haughty and disdainful to the hired help, but that was hardly germane in his current situation. 

He was, however, fully capable of employing the former skill when he realized that Mels had snuck up on him.

His jaw clenched tight as she leaned into the corner of his vision, her expression quizzical. It took some concentration, but Sander managed to maintain his poker face, nary a ripple of negative emotion creasing his expression. Nevertheless, inside he was cursing terribly. It seemed he couldn't walk three feet without running into a potential complex ontological paradox, all set to twist his personal timeline in a knot.

At least he had an opportunity to come out of this one without embarrassing himself, quite unlike his ridiculous slip ups with Amy. 

'I'm trying to determine how one uses this machine,' He said, tapping it with two fingers. 

'What, the ATM?' 

'Ah, that's what it's called,' Sander nodded, as smoothly as he could. He added, defensively, 'It might seem completely impossible, but there are smaller towns than Leadworth, Miss.'

He was proud of himself for even getting as far as he had without slipping up; this was Melody Pond, no matter what form or name she chose to take. And Melody Pond was just a River Song in training, which was frightening on its own. He had seen plenty of the little Time Lady assassin's exploits, enough to know just how bad it would be- even at this stage of her development- to cross her or somehow let slip his own time traveling nature. Back home on Trismestigius he was powerful, but here...

Well, here he was useless. There was a reason time travelers used ships most of the time; it allowed one to pack. The common perception of the all powerful man from the future capable of doing practically anything was largely dependent on the tools and technology he could bring with him. Sander had arrived practically empty handed, and he had already traded his one technological advantage to prisoner Zero in order to stick close to Amy. 

And that didn't just level the playing field and reduce Sander to the same capabilities as everyone else, either; technology advanced at such a rapid rate that the machinery that ran the day to day operations of the past was almost completely unrecognizable to him.

Hence, the- what was it?- ATM...

'Ah, don't worry about it,' Mels waved a hand ostentatiously, withdrawing a wallet from her back pocket and selecting a card before slotting it into the machine. 'Let's see, now...'

She paused for a moment, deep in thought as though the numbers wouldn't immediately come to her, before she tapped at the keypad. Sander almost laughed; numeric passwords had gone the way of the dinosaurs to make way for biometric scans before he had even been born. Everything in the immediate surroundings became tinged with a sense of nostalgia.

As ancient as the machine seemed, money came out of it all the same, in copious amounts, and Mels made a show of counting and dividing it, before handing off a small stack of bills to Sander. He blinked in surprise, though that surprise didn't extend to hesitating in taking the advantage being offered to him. 

'That's... unusually charitable,' He said, stuffing the cash into his pocket. He was too used to having however much money he needed in any given situation, so being broke had set him off kilter in a major way. Just having the ability to buy things again was a boost to his confidence.

'Well, it didn't look like you were going to get anywhere without it,' Mels shrugged, winking. 'No card of your own, I'm willing to bet. Now tell me: who am I talking to?'

'I'd really better be going...' Sander pointed vaguely out in a random direction, not knowing where it would take him but not really caring, at the same time. His sole objective now was to be going away from Mels before she got too curious. 

'What a coincidence, me too!' In response, the young woman clapped her hands together before giving Sander a light shove in the direction he had indicated, before stepping up beside him. 'I still want to know your name, though. Not a fan of strangers, me.'

Well, so long as he stuck to first names, he should be alright...

'I'm Sander,' He said, knowing that there couldn't be many of those hanging around quaint English villages, though he could hardly bring himself to care. The longer he stuck around Mels, the more time he had to think and rationalize, turning the situation over in his head.

Things were different with Amy; his timeline was so entangled with hers that any interactions in their subjective pasts would go beyond acceptable deviation limits very easily. Their histories would destabilize and they would both be flung off into distinct new timelines; Sander and Amy as they were now would be no more, replaced with versions of themselves that would be, for all intents and purposes, entirely different people. It would be... like death. 

But Mels... She and Sander had never met before, their personal histories weren't dependent on one another. Mels had a number of regenerations and memory losses to go through before she became River and would go on to meet Sander for the first time... Here, all she represented was a challenge. 

Here was the Doctor's wife, before she had even met him. Temptation rose in Sander's mind at the mere thought; she was right in front of him, he could reach out and touch her if he wanted to, and there was nothing the Time Lord could do about it. It would be so, so easy...

Not to kill her, or hurt her. No, that would change history in too dramatic a fashion. But there were plenty of other things he could do, and he knew enough about Mels' personality to predict what she'd try with a newcomer.

If there was one thing Mels- any form of Melody, really- liked, it was surprises...

'Oh hey,' Sander jerked a thumb over his shoulder. 'You left your, uh, card thingy in the machine.'

Without looking back, Mels shot Sander a quizzical look, and just laughed. They kept walking. 

'So what brings you to Leadworth?' She asked. 'Especially without a place to stay.'

'Let's just say circumstances beyond my control and leave it at that, shall we?' Sander replied drily, dropping his hands into the pockets of his pilfered hoody. 'And why are you hanging out with the homeless stranger? Little English village like this, there's almost no way I'm not a serial killer.'

'Are you a serial killer?' She arched an eyebrow. The two of them had begun attracting stares from the few Leadworth folks who could muster the energy to go outside, though Sander got the feeling that Mels was as much a draw as he himself. Every pair of eyes stuck to him, but they always hitched when they reached Mels; he got the sense they weren't incredibly surprised that she would befriend the outsider. If Amy was considered to be off kilter and strange, Mels was the logical conclusion of that; a young woman truly enjoying being the pariah. It was not surprising at all that she and Amy would gravitate toward each other, really. All part of Mels' plan, Sander supposed.

'Not according to the voices in my head,' He shrugged, eyeing the expanse of Leadworth fields before him. He wondered what Mels saw in this place; was it any freer than her life with her Silence guardians? Or did she feel the same sense of cloying smallness that he himself did? Was it frustrating for her, having to live here, cloaked in her false identity for year upon year, acting out the way she did for... whatever reason. Perhaps just to feel anything at all...

Even next to him, she was the perennial alien.

For a moment, a singular, mad moment as they walked, Sander was seized with the desire to grab Mels by the shoulders and shake her. He wanted to tell her who he was and more importantly, what he knew. He wanted her to know that she wasn't alone in her mission to end the Doctor, and that she might in fact have an ally to speed that task along. She would appreciate that...

But of course, it was only a passing fancy. 

He couldn't actually do it. No. Of course not. So instead he contented himself with walking beside the woman who would become the Doctor's wife, close enough to reach out and take away yet another of his companions, if he so desired. He was glad that he wasn't a Dalek or some other of the Doctor's enemies, part of some vast horde of faceless combatants; the Time Lord would come to fight something that visible that decided to walk upon the Earth. But Sander was one man; an enemy, but one that flew under the radar in most respects. He could walk beside the future River Song unharmed and out of the Doctor's sight...

... All by dint of being a lower stakes class of foe. The Doctor was near unbeatable against world ending plots of apocalyptic significance, but against one guy with a sharp mind and a knack for time active machines, what could he really do? Here he was on Earth.

Come and get me, Time Lord...

'Do you have somewhere to be?' Mels asked, breaking him from his thoughts. 'Or are you really just wandering around? Presumably for victims?'

'No, I'm pretty much just getting the lay of the land,' Sander said. 'Why? Are you volunteering?'

'Maybe,' She shrugged. 'Anyway, you're coming with me, then.'

'Where? And what for?'

She skipped ahead, turning lightly on her feet to face him, just a little too close for comfort. The suddenness of the movement made Sander's head fill with memories of learning about Time Lord biology, all those little factoids about ridiculous strength that connected nervously with his knowledge of how jumpy and unpredictable this regeneration of River's was. He was frankly relieved when all she did was give him a suggestive look, combined with the kind of incredulity that implied she thought he was somewhat dim for not immediately divining her meaning.

'Ooh, penny in the air...' Mels rolled her eyes and gestured for him to follow her, setting off down the path. 

'No... No, don't do that,' Back on comfortable ground, he followed.

'Don't do what?'

'The in joke. I've never liked that one...'

'Hey?'

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

'You freaking people, I swear...' Sander shook his head, laughing slyly moments before he was slammed up against the wall, hard enough to knock a picture from its hook. 

'What do you mean? Young people?' Mels cooed, pressing her lips to his. As she broke away, she continued in a low voice, 'Done this before, cradle robber?'

'Yeah,' Sander grinned into her mouth, allowing her tongue entry for the moment. 'Let's go with that.'

At that, he experienced a pulse of guilt; after all, here he was letting Mels seduce him while out there in Leadworth Amy was still possessed by some kind of parasitic alien... thing. He didn't even know what it was, but he was wasting time like a pro. But...

His mind screamed. This was River, this was the Doctor's wife, here she was, he could reach out and...

No. No, this was better. As much as he might enjoy it, River Song couldn't die in this regeneration, she still had things to do. But what he could do was get to her before the Doctor... spoil her for him. That would be fun.

The great irony of all this was that both of them were essentially using the other; neither of them was really doing this for the pleasure of the act. For Mels, trying to get into Sander's pants was more of a test than anything else; for all she knew, the mysterious stranger who had come rolling into town could very well be an agent of the Silence. Retrieval units weren't uncommon, among the ranks of the cult, and given that Mels herself was essentially a free agent out of their control, she lived in constant fear of being caught and wrestled back under control. Hell, Sander had watched her observing the town with extreme, almost neurotic care.

In many ways, Leadworth was ideal for someone like Mels; the entire town was essentially a closed circle. It was small and relatively stable, and if one took care it was relatively easy to memorize the faces of the regular inhabitants. The youth of her latest regeneration had allowed Mels to blend in and insinuate herself into the fabric of Leadworth society, and once involved to the degree she had become it would have been no great difficulty for her to identify every new person to enter the limits of the town.

And as she had gotten older, this had been the test she had chosen to employ. After all, an agent of the Silence would never go so far as to defile their prized weapon...

Lucky for Sander, he had no such issues.

'D'you often get the young girls, Sander?' Mels pressed in, pinning him to the wall with both hands as she spoke between long, deep kisses. She was really laying it on thick... 'Is this your usual?'

Every word she said only enforced the throbbing desire for violence in his head, the desire to take control. To make it hurt...

'No, actually, this isn't the way I'd usually do things,' He said, vaguely short of breath. 'But this is.'

Mels had led Sander to her home, lied to him about her- nonexistent, he knew- parents being out, and dragged him up to her room to conduct her little test of allegiances. He had been content to let her pin him to the wall and do her thing, safe in the knowledge that after today River Song would never be able to look him in the eye, if they ever met properly. But her brashness in all this had made him realize that her rules were really the last ones he should be wanting to play by; it wasn't every day one was afforded such a unique opportunity, after all. He really could show her how Sander Hackett conducts his affairs, after all...

Which was why he pushed her away, her surprise at the sudden movement putting her off balance enough for him to keep shoving until she hit the opposite wall, to be held there in a reverse of their previous position. They had only just avoided clipping the bed as they moved. 

Mels' eyes widened, and for a moment she stood stunned. Sander got the feeling that she wasn't used to encountering any kind of fight from her suitors; she was the kind of girl who knew what she wanted, and how to take it while leaving a grin on a young person's face. That was all fine and dandy... but it wasn't what Sander really wanted to see the Doctor's wife doing.

She regained her senses quickly, as one might expect from a lifetime soldier and assassin, and attempted to throw him off. Sander's grip held tight, making the young woman frown. Although she was definitely playing all of this off as a game, like she was trying to dislodge him solely so she herself could get back on top in a classic bedroom tussle scenario, Sander could tell her frustration was real. The girl had Time Lord strength; if she really wanted to, she could probably drop kick him through the wall... but she had to hold off here. To her, he was just a normal, contemporary guy, and the alien strength she could employ would draw far too much attention. If her human strength couldn't accomplish it, then it was impossible to her, so long as she was in his presence.

She was trapped...

'Yeah...' He growled, kissing her for the first time. It was a fiery thing, damn near to venomous in the clashing feelings Sander put into it; anger and hate and lust and sympathy blurring together into an aimless mass in his head. He couldn't single out any one emotion as his primary feeling, nor did he particularly want to; he was here, this was what he was doing, and... 'This is definitely more my style...'

'S-somebody's confident...' Mels seemed more shaken now, and this was clearly out of her comfort zone. Nonetheless, she moaned as Sander practically attacked her, fingers digging into her hips as his teeth sunk into her neck, trailing a series of nips and bites down the curving neckline of her shirt, 'I'm not sure how I feel about that.'

'Just you try and stop me,' He said quietly, never removing his mouth from her skin. 'Now, are you going to take these things off, or am I going to have to ruin your clothes doing that with my teeth?'

Keep it looking normal, that was the important part. She couldn't know that he had a personal agenda in this, because there was only one connection she could draw from any kind of familiarity or implication of a history. If he had to play the passionate, dominant man... then fine, that's what it took. At least this was a role he knew how to play.

'Oh, I'll take it off, thanks. Bit too nice a top to get it covered in teeth marks, Sander,' She seemed short of breath, but hearing her say his name was just surreal enough to spur him onward. He drew himself up to his full height, slamming his palms down flat onto the wall at either side of Mels' head. He looked down at her, eyes sparkling with a conflicted mix of desire and madness.

'Then do it,' He said shortly. She tried to move, to gesture him aside to gain a little more space to do what needed to be done, but Sander simply wouldn't move. He was rooted to the spot by something far more powerful than anything else; not Mels' enhanced strength, not the need to avoid paradoxes... nothing. It was wound around his past like piano wire, choking off his cogent thoughts and leaving just one desire: make her submit.

With nowhere to go, Mels settled for looking Sander full in the eye, eyebrow raised in a vague returning challenge. She lifted her shirt over her head, arms squeezing in at an uncomfortable angle to avoid touching Sander's arms on the way up. Though he wasn't surprised, Sander found it pleasant that she hadn't been wearing a bra.

Resolutely, Sander kept his gaze on her eyes, not venturing down to see the bared flesh below him, enticing as it was. Only the lack of straps on her shoulders tipped him off to her nudity. But he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of getting to him, not yet. This was maintaining control, and he kept it up even as she stepped forward, and the warm, soft pressure of her breasts brushed against his chest.

'Pants too,' He lilted, craning her neck away from her as she tried to kiss him again. 'I want you naked.'

Mels blinked, and Sander gave her hair- hanging loose around her shoulders- a light tug, to prompt her to move. Flying in the face of everything he knew about her, Mels blushed and stepped away from him, as far as she could go trapped between his body and the wall. His eyes never left hers, as she wriggled out of her jeans without another word. It wasn't like her, but then again, when had any iteration of Melody Pond been in a position of anything less than complete sexual power?

Perhaps this was uncharted ground for her, too...

'Don't tell me you're still wearing underwear...' He said softly, feeling that old power begin to return to him. For the past few days, ever since being dropped here, his life had been nearly entirely out of his control, put on hold while he started to figure out this new world. He had found some modicum of his old self with Amy, but even then he had been... influenced from outside. But this, right here and right now, was all his own doing, and the feeling was just as intoxicating as he remembered.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 03



'... No,' She said, and though her tone was just as confident and showy as usual, there was a definite hitch in it that hadn't been there before. It was... lovely.

'Well, let's make sure,' He grinned, finally removing a hand from the wall to wave a finger in front of her face. Mels now had some room to move, she could escape if she wanted, but her gaze remained attached to his, almost as if it was magnetized. She didn't falter, even as Sander's finger moved slowly closer to her, making contact with her smooth, dark skin between her breasts. Without looking away, he drew it downward, sliding it over her tense, muscular stomach, travelling ever closer to that spot between her legs.

'Good girl...' He said over her moan, as the pad of his finger tickled her labia. Her hips moved, but Sander wasn't about to give her any more than she deserved, right now. She seemed to have some reaction to his words, finally breaking eye contact and looking away.

'Oh, you like that?' His head tilted, to hear the little whimper that followed his withdrawal. 'Never would have pegged you for that... But okay. Kiss me. Like a good girl...'

She probably couldn't remember the last time she had been called that, he realized. She had been in this town for over a decade at least, growing up next to Amy and Rory, acting out in increasingly flamboyant and attention-grabbing ways... Being free. Enjoying her freedom, for possibly the first time in her life. But it was hard to keep friends, acting like that. How long had it been, since anyone had ever shown appreciation for something Mels had done?

Given this, Sander was only slightly surprised when she kissed him without a second thought, pressing her wonderfully warm bare body against his clothed one, parting her lips to allow his tongue access. It was the kind of kiss that invited, rather than took; she melted into him, allowed him to taste her completely. She gasped as he pulled away.

'Let me take a look at you,' He said, voice now noticeably hoarser than before. He pointed, 'Stand over there.'

She obeyed yet again, as he took a seat at the foot of the bed. Naturally, it was just a simple single bed, sheets untidy and askew, but it was more than enough for what he had planned for her. For her part, Mels seemed almost spellbound, caught up in a new experience in the way Sander knew she loved. Mels often found herself in a constant battle against boredom, and if nothing else, Sander was in no way boring. He didn't know whether she was following his lead out of pleasure or mere interest, but he couldn't bring himself to care, either.

'I take it this is not your usual?' He said smoothly, grinning at her. Mels stood in a way that indicated she was entirely comfortable with being naked around strangers, one hand on her hip as she swayed idly on the balls of her feet, bare skin open to him. She was beautiful like this, awake in her skin and alive in every sense of the word. Her body was all curves and skin the color of chocolate, wonderfully smooth and soft, so that the light from the window seemed to slither across her.

'No, definitely not,' She said, grinning back in the most delightful way. The challenge she represented hadn't collapsed the way Sander had expected, and it made his blood throb in his veins. He wanted her, he was shocked to discover. Not just for revenge, not just to advance his own interests, but because she made him want to do awful things to her. Like mother like daughter, in that respect.

'First time for everything,' He said, leaning back on his hands. 'Turn around, give me the view from the back.'

'Yeah, okay,' Her confidence wasn't a façade, but Sander could see it was insulating a growing core of nervousness. Fascinated or not, it was hard to know where they both stood. She was making a leap of faith... if only it wasn't so damn interesting...

She turned for him, light midday shadows sliding over her skin as she showed him her back. She could feel his eyes travel down it, following the dips and curves of her skin, down to her bottom. Her grin widened; she was proud of her ass. Men got floored by her ass.

'Back that over here...'

Yes, pretty much according to plan...

The way he had touched her before had been electric, and Mels thought she might have stepped back into his arms a tad more eagerly than she should have. It cracked her cool and in control image, yet she could barely muster the energy to feel dissatisfied with that, when she felt the warmth of his palms, wide and strong on her hips, pulling her closer still.

'Now this I like...' He said, and she shuddered as his palm glided smoothly down her bottom, cupping one cheek from below. That exploratory hand hooked underneath her, the fingers pressing gently against her sex, giving only the most fleeting of rubbing motions before withdrawing. Even so, Mels found her hips pushing down to try and follow his hand, unsuccessfully, of course. The slap shattered her resulting disappointment, sending alternating signals of pleasure and pain radiating up from her pussy.

'Did I say you could move?' She felt his teeth bite into her back, tongue flicking against her skin. She arched into the contact, pussy screaming to be touched, though his hand wasn't forthcoming, 'Stop squirming. Be a good girl some more. Sit still.'

Both hands were on her now, fingers wrapping around her thighs, gently prising them apart to give himself greater access to what lay between them. For a moment, Mels thought he was actually going to touch her, but the end result was merely the smallest of taps to her clit, nothing more. Even so, the momentary shock of sensation sent her body into spasm.

'Well, I can see you like that...' He whispered, letting his fingertips drag torturously up Mels' thighs. 'But if you want more, you're going to have to ask nicely...'

'I'm... n-not really the asking type,' Her voice shook as she spoke, that addictive sensation taken away from her just as she was becoming used to it. If only she could turn, give him that challenging smile, demonstrate her point... but his hands trapped her by the hips, kept her back to him. So when she continued, her words rung hollow, 'I'm more into taking.'

'What a coincidence, Mels!' She felt his fingers tighten against her skin, and without realizing it her own hands had gone to cover his, to retain his touch. 'So am I.'

Mels' eyes cast about her room, over every familiar corner and object she owned. This place had never really felt like home to her. Nowhere did; she had been raised in a series of places of varying size and quality, never really laying down roots... It had never been an issue for her. But being here, travelling down an entirely new road with Sander staring expectantly at her back, her room had been lent a special kind of unfamiliarity.

It was... intoxicating.

'Please...' She tried her hardest not to whimper; she was strong, she was in control of herself, she did not whimper... much. She raised herself up to her full height, shoulders back, 'Please continue.'

Mels was altogether too much fun. Sander could hear the struggle in her voice, sensation competing with her pride. If she was anything like her mother, she would buckle, if he added pressure to the correct points. So far, she had been acting according to plan, which was pleasant; Mels was hardly the most predictable of creatures. Experimentally, he dragged the fingernails on one hand up the skin of her thigh, and in response her knee crooked, pushing her leg in towards his touch.

She was just as subject to her body as Amy was...

He turned her around, spinning her by the hips, taking in her naked body up close for the first time. He pulled her in, her knees bending to support herself on the small patch of bed available between his legs; no doubt she could feel his erection pressing through his stolen trousers into her thighs. From this position, he could see the want and trepidation in her eyes.

Sander craned his neck, stretching up to capture one smooth, dark nipple in his lips, adding a gentle pressure with his teeth. He heard Mels breathe in quickly, deeply, pressing her chest forward into his mouth. He groaned, delighted at her responsiveness.

'Undo my pants,' He told her, brushing his hair back out of his eyes. He gave her a confident smile, and she responded in kind.

'Ah, something I know how to do,' She lilted smoothly, slipping one hand down to his fly. One handed, and without even looking down, she slipped down his zip and unbuttoned his pants with ease borne of lots of practice. Very quickly, she had his cock in her palm, hard and hot against her skin, stroking languorously up and down.

'So someone's not as cool and collected as he seems,' Her lips curved upward, her thumb brushed over the tip of his cock. 'I suppose no man can resist the pretty naked girl, huh?'

With a cocky expression, Sander's hand shot out, two fingers plunging into Mels' pussy before she could pull away. She cried out at the sudden intrusion, but Sander had withdrawn before she could even become accustomed to it. Demonstratively, he held his fingers up for her, so she could watch them glisten in the light.

'And I suppose you aren't the only irresistible one,' Sander chuckled, drawing a trail of Mels' arousal around her nipples. 'So I'm feeling you should bend over so I can rectify that.'

'Maybe,' Mels nodded slowly, proceeding up the length of the bed. Wiggling her ass with a true sense of theatricality, she bent at the waist, chest flat against the sheets, hips arching to present herself so attractively for him. It wasn't an invitation he was likely to pass up.

He reached out to touch her, keeping his hand in contact with her backside as he stood and made his way behind her. Immediately, without hesitation, she spread her legs wider, pressing her hips against his so that his erection nestled close into her wet and ready cunt.

'Someone's eager...' He murmured, hips moving, rubbing against hers.

'Someone is,' She answered quickly, pretense falling away. 'Now no more. Fuck me.'

'Oh, is that what you brought me here for?' He tilted his head, grinning. 'Because I wasn't getting that at all.'

He could hear her begin some sarcastic retort, but before she could finish even the first word he pushed forward, entering her inch by inch until he was completely inside her. Mels gasped, slamming her hips down on his intruding cock as hard as she could. They both trembled, filled with the feeling of completion. Sander almost laughed; suck it, Doctor.

All their teasing and little word games stopped at that point, slipping into a silence broken only by the sound of their panting breath. It began slowly at first, with Sander rolling his hips to push in and out of her, the movements small and self contained. But Mels proved to be incredibly reactive, her moans and shuddering form spurring him on, until their fucking had reached a fever pitch. She was so hot and soft and wet, it wasn't long before his cock was slurping in and out of her deceptively alien pussy.

His fingers pressed into her back, half restraint, half intimate caress; rougher than it needed to be, but more than enough to drive her wild. She pushed back into him, matching him thrust for thrust, gripping tightly to the bed, as if she was holding on. 

'You like that? You fucking like it?' The words were so disgustingly alpha male that, under normal circumstances, Sander would be slightly ashamed to have said them. But in the moment, his body was flooded with fire and lust, and they had spilled out; it had taken all his willpower not to give the game away and call her Melody. Or River.

He wanted to. Oh, he wanted to. He wanted her to know, as he did this to her, why it was happening. He wanted her to take that away from this experience. As impossible as it all was.

'Yes!' She panted, breathlessly. 'Fuck.... Yes. Da-... uhm... Yes!'

Sander slowed, but didn't stop. He heard her moan louder, fucking back against him harder than before, to try to make up the force he was no longer giving her. He halted her with a simple smack on the ass.

'What were you going to say?' He said, as her hips trembled through a series of infinitesimal movements, sliding more and more of his cock into her slick pussy.

'Nothing. No more talking,' She panted, unsteadily.

'No, you cut yourself off,' Sander shook his head, sliding a hand beneath them both to rub at her clit, sending another spasm of pleasure through her body. 'If you want me to continue, you'll tell me...'

'F-fuck me...' Mels' voice was hesitant, and Sander knew she was struggling with it. Whatever it was she had stopped herself from saying, it was clearly something very personal... which automatically made it something Sander wanted to know about. To draw it out of her, he gradually increased the pressure of his fingers on her clit, making her gasp. Every second that passed must have been torture, as she forced herself to keep still...

'Oh, fuck it!' She snapped, all at once, breaking down and moving again. 'Daddy! Fuck me, Daddy! There!'

The man in question's head tilted to one side, a thoughtful look coming over his face as he considered the prospect. Mels took the time to settle her hips so that his length was as deep inside her as possible, rocking slowly back and forth, fucking herself gradually on his cock. She was aware that if he rejected her, she might not have a lot of time to enjoy this...

'Okay, not something I'm normally into,' He said finally, voice hoarse, breath coming in pants. 'But on you it works...'

A little smile spread across Mels' face, and she arched her back, pressing her hips against his and baring more of her ass and pussy to him. Sander could only smile back; hearing Mels, the infamous Melody Pond, saying that to him... it had struck a chord. This was no longer just a game of despoiling her before the Doctor got his turn, oh no... this was to watch her get into it, to bare a kink to him that the Doctor didn't even know she had. It was getting to the heart of her, before the Time Lord even knew she existed.

And besides, it made a little sense; Melody had never had a father, really. It was possible she had only ever heard of experienced the word in a sexual context before...

'You want it hard, Mels?' Still, Sander decided to test the waters, see exactly how far he could push things, before they snapped back. He could see her toes curling...

'Y-yes, Daddy,' She answered quickly, but Sander could hear the hitch in her voice, plain as day. She was still grappling with the issue, as much as her body twitched and shivered whenever she started playing at it, 'Please f-fuck me hard...'

'You goddamn Leadworth girls...' He shook his head, grinning at the sheer strangeness of it all. Only two days in this out of the way corner of the world, and already his second girl; one an alien possessed town weirdo still obsessed with the past, the other an honest to god time traveler using sex as a kind of trial by fire. Whenever there was strangeness in his life, a girl from Leadworth wasn't far away...

'What... does t-that mean?' Mels panted, bouncing on Sander's cock with abandon. There was something so glorious about the way this one fucked; without shame or guilt or even secondary thoughts or motivations. She just seemed to enjoy the sensations, her body hot and strong as she moved herself into every one of his thrusts, those long brown legs taut and awfully attractive beneath her. And the sounds she made, like she'd actually enjoy it if someone outside heard her... She gasped, as Sander stroked her clit unexpectedly, 'Mmm! Fuck, Daddy!'

'Oh, nothing much,' Even his own voice was unsteady, as he felt her cunt squeeze down on his cock. 'Your friend Amy... Interesting time, she was.'

Why had he said that? Why bait her, right when he was getting his way? Well... the truth was, he already knew; it just wouldn't be sex with Sander Hackett without at least a little psychological stress to go with that dominant streak. He found himself watching her closely; the truth was, he had no idea how Mels would react to news about Amy. If she was River, sure... But Mels...

Well, how could he know? All he could do was watch, he had no way into the mind. And Mels was weird, there was really no telling what she would do in any given situation even if one did know what she was thinking. For a moment, as her muscles tensed and she turned around to look at him, Sander thought she would dislodge him, round on him with questions, at best.

'You and Amy? Really?' Fortunately, Mels didn't see fit to even postpone the action, moving her hips in slow, thoughtful circles as she allowed him to continue fucking her. Almost as a kind of recompense for bringing it up, Sander brought one hand down and under her chest, fingers encircling her nipple. She continued, 'Why would she do that?'

'I don't know, you tell me,' Sander answered, adding a little pressure to her sensitive breasts. All of a sudden his strange need to antagonize had become an opportunity for education; if he asked the right questions, who knew what he might be able to glean about the nature of his current, Amy-possessing enemy? 'Has she been acting different lately?'

'Kinda f-flushed... the other night,' Mels gritted her teeth as her back arched suddenly, a particularly deep stroke of Sander's cock proving so hot it almost liquefied her insides. 'All shifty and distracted... Not around me though. Like, she could only concentrate when I was around.'

Sander had to force himself not to stop and think; no matter how tempting the information he had just been proffered, he couldn't be seen to think on it. He would have no need to, and arousing any form of suspicion in Mels just wouldn't do. But she had given him a useful hint...

Whatever had taken hold of Amy had made them have sex; that was literally the first thing it had done. Which placed it within a certain set of parasitic or symbiotic entities that took their food supplies from the procreative act. So Amy being strictly normal when around Mels specifically was important; it wouldn't do to have her coming onto family, after all...

In that moment, he caught sight of Mels, bare and prostrate before him, her lithe body lit up in the afternoon sun. Her chest expanded and shrank rapidly, with each panting breath, and she ground her hips against him at the termination of each thrust. Suddenly, the guesswork no longer mattered as much. He had come here with a job to do, a singular task that he could cross off his bucket list today. He had her, Melody Pond, the future River Song, exactly where he wanted her. He could do things to her now that the, by comparison puritan Time Lord didn't even have names for. Better yet, the little slut would probably enjoy it. And he would always have the knowledge that she had called him Daddy in the midst of it to keep him warm at night...

That was that, there was nothing else for it. This was what he had to be concentrating on, right now.

He waited, until he was at the apex of his withdrawal, at the farthest point from Mels, before he threw himself wholeheartedly into the action, slamming into her with as much force as he could muster. Mels cried out, louder than Sander had expected; just another symptom of her flamboyant and attention-starved mind, he supposed. Still, the sound had been exactly what he had been looking for, and it set the pace for him to follow.

Sander leaned in, pushing Mels down onto the bed, fingers digging into her skin; he could feel the muscles tense beneath as he pounded into her. Though she didn't look back, her body shifted to accommodate him; her legs spread wider, her back bowing to allow him deeper entry.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 03



And she spoke, panted breathlessly the name she had given him, groaning through clenched teeth as he fucked her. It drove him on, her evident enjoyment lending him a kind of perverse motivation, as if every thrust could mark her before the Doctor ever got a hold of her.

His imagination was enflamed, Mels' writhing, moaning form sending his mind spinning down some darker paths; he wondered how far he could push this. Rather, how far he wanted to push it; no matter what he tried, he couldn't dispel the dense core of anger in him. She was right there, River Song was right there...

He wondered what it would be like if she regenerated right then and there, her entire body reformatting itself around him as he fucked her. Sander had been alone with his plans for a long time, and he had spent most of it studying Time Lord physiology; he knew that the regeneration process wasn't as rare as the Time Lords had always said. Certain easily obtainable chemicals could trick the body, trip the mechanism and cause cell regeneration spreading out in a wave from the first point of contact. It would be easy to do...

One moment fucking Mels, the next... River Song...

He could imagine with ease the sensation of it, passing through her body and into his as her entire physical form changed, giving him a whole new body to work with. All that regeneration energy burning through her body, altering her on a molecular level and passing through him in the process. It could be directed, and if done so forcefully was plenty to knock a man out, even kill one...

Must be one hell of a rush...

Not to mention the entirely unique sensation of her body becoming languid in every possible respect, flesh shifting and changing, an entirely new body having sex for the very first time in the moment of its regeneration. He could make her scream as Mels, listen to her moans change in mid stream, becoming the sound of River in ecstasy. Perhaps he could even have her regenerate at the moment of orgasm...

Never before had a sin against causality seemed so hot...

But of course, it could never happen. Not if he ever wanted to get back to his home, to see Mara and his friends ever again. To force River into being here and now would pull the foundation out from under a grand circular paradox; Mels would never be there to inspire Amy to name her, neither would they and the Doctor meet her right at the beginning, things would spin out of control.

And so he was reduced to doing what was within his power to accomplish; making the River-in-training writhe and moan beneath him, muscles shaking. Her skin was deliciously hot to the touch, overworked body tight and pushing back against him. Best of all, she kept calling out to him, seemingly never able to shut her mouth all the way, Yes, that seemed like Melody. 

It struck him as hilarious, in a way; here she was, calling him Daddy while possibly a matter of meters away from her father-to-be, and he was that man's greatest enemy. A thousand years away, Amy was still locked up in one of Sander's cells, at the mercy of his crew. And right here, right now, he was screwing her daughter to a screaming, awfully kinky orgasm. 

It really was enough to make one laugh, and for a singular, panic stricken moment, Sander opened his mouth to remark on it. He caught himself at the last moment, but it was the first time he had ever felt like he was about to have a heart attack during sex.

His palms itched in that most delicious way they did when he felt himself at the crest of a challenge he could topple; it was the feeling of first designing the Eternity Engine, only this time... sexy. Without even thinking, one hand swept out and slapped down hard on Mels' curvy, tense ass, making the moaning, fucking girl arch her back and cry out, the pain interrupting her stream of dirty talk. She was back to it far too quickly.

'Fuck, Daddy!' She buried her face in the sheets, the sound muffled but undeniably desperate. 

'Okay, someone's got a thing for pain, too,' He filed that away, just in case he ever encountered her again, or worse, River. . It made sense, in a way; Sander had seen the lengths the Silence had gone to with Melody, perhaps she had simply done what she could to cope.

'Yes, Daddy,' She moaned indistinctly. 'More...'

Okay, enhanced hearing too, must remember that one...

'Let it never be said that I'm not a crowd pleaser,' His hand swung down, impacting her ass harder than before. He could feel her legs tense and shake, thrusting her bottom up into the slap, welcoming the next, and the thrusting of his cock beyond that. This was familiar ground, he could remember doing this with Mara on more than one occasion, and Sander was able to fall into a furious rhythm; thrust, withdraw, slap. Fuck and spank, back and forth, as Mels trembled beneath him.

He could feel it as she came, her pussy contracting around him, back arching, thrusting his cock as deeply into her as she could get him. Sander froze, with Mels' cunt milking him, closing in on his own edge but unwilling to allow himself to tumble over it; after all, he couldn't assume safe sex like he could in his own time. The human race was still several hundred years away from the succor of sterilization fields; the things he did here would have consequences.

As a result, the moment had stillness, aside from the minute, incessant shaking of Mels' limbs, as climax washed over her. She was strangely silent about it, and Sander got the immediate feeling that she was biting her lip, trying to avoid seeming vulnerable. Such a contrast, for the chatterbox time traveler. Not that it made a difference; Sander knew. Oh, he knew.

Perhaps that was enough. Sander could already tell that it would stick with him more than anything else this experience had brought him. He could return home in a second, be caught with his pants down by everyone currently staffing his base, and still have a smile on his face, because he'd made the Doctor's wife cum for him. For the first time, he truly felt he could take on the Time Lord with a smug grin.

For a moment he had to fight the rising fire in his mind again, as some dark voice in his head argued that Mels had had her fun, and now it was time for his... But Sander knew his luck, and given his high likelihood of now dying before he had even been born, he knew better than to push it. If he did, he would no doubt leave her accidentally pregnant, or something...

'Are you on the pill, Mels?' It actually took him a moment to search his memory, but Sander was able to recover that fragment of old world knowledge before his desires took over. Even so, he got the strongest feeling of living in the dark ages, just having to ask.

'N-no, Daddy,' She answered, her voice indistinct and muffled by the sheets. Abruptly, Sander withdrew, stepping away from the still writhing woman below him. She seemed vaguely disappointed at this, especially as she looked over her shoulder at him, their eyes meeting for the first time in a long time.

He could still see her in there, that little spark of River. That irascible edge, when the world wasn't swooning in her presence. The Time Lady's almost arrogant assurance in herself. It made his next words something he would treasure for a long time to come.

'Then get on your knees.'

'Okay... Daddy...' She blinked, but obeyed anyway, sliding down with hesitance in her voice. Her long legs folded beneath her, and when she looked up at him, her gaze was guarded, wary and almost concerned. Sander took a step forward, and realized that her back was pressed against the side of the bed; though her body was lasciviously on display, there was a trepidation there that hadn't been present before.

'I get the feeling that you don't use your mouth very often,' He said, brow furrowing. 'Well... like this, anyway.'

'Never, Daddy,' Her eyes dipped a little, as if she was ashamed. Sander got the feeling she disliked having something with which she was inexperienced, or not immediately good at.

'Never?' Even so, it did surprise him. Mels was certainly more experienced than her physical age would lead one to assume in all other areas so far, but she had additional regenerations which had ventured into adulthood; her sexual experience wasn't terribly surprising based on that. He continued, 'Well, I suppose that makes sense. I think I've got you figured out, girl... You talk a big game, all confident and breezy... Sucking cock would be a little submissive for a tough girl like you. Look at you now...'

She actually flinched as he loomed over her, fingers curling around her chin, tilting her gaze up to his. Internally, Sander crowed, the heady sensation of power, over one of his most dangerous enemies, flowing through him. If nothing else, this alone made his unwanted trip to the past worthwhile.

'Tell me you want it. Beg me for it...'

'I can't...'

'I want you to.'

'... Let me suck your cock,' Mels' voice trembled as she spoke, this seemed to be giving her real trouble. Sander grinned, shook his head.

'Try again.'

This caused her expression to shift, a little bit of bitterness crossing her features momentarily; only the way her thighs squeezed tightly together betrayed her continuing lust. When she spoke next, it was with a sweetness laced with just the smallest amount of acid.

'Please Daddy, let me suck your cock,' Her eyes remained level with Sander's, her attempt at a challenge undercut by her lowered position, and the very noticeable flush in her cheeks. When Sander dropped a hand on top of her head, she actually flinched, but the firmness of his grip left her in no doubt as to what would happen next. As he shifted closer, she opened her mouth.

'Look at you now,' Sander couldn't help but speak, to deepen her blush as his cock slipped over her tongue, into her virgin mouth. He felt some token resistance, the soft muscle pushing up instinctively against the intrusion, but he didn't let it stop him, 'The tough girl, all confident swagger... here you are on your knees, calling some stranger Daddy... So I guess you're just full of surprises...'

Of course, it wasn't as though Mels could answer, beyond a simple grunt as he moved in closer, sliding his cock further into her mouth. Her head was braced against the bed, held in place by his hand; she couldn't move, found herself merely kneeling there as he fucked her mouth. Her nose wrinkled in distaste, at the taste of her own juices, coating his stiff length, made hot by the blood pumping through it.

It wasn't a blowjob, not really, and Mels was vaguely grateful for that; better to allow Sander to take the reins, than to attempt it herself and be terrible at it. He taunted her even for this, and though his words shot shamefully to her clit, she wouldn't have been able to handle it if she were required to actively participate at the same time. Her hands lay limp in her lap, covering her wet and used pussy almost defensively, as the stranger above her used her mouth. More than once, she almost gagged.

It didn't take him long to cum, the part of the process that Mels dreaded the most. Even if she had made a habit of going down on guys, swallowing would be the last thing from her mind; it seemed too submissive, it wouldn't fit her. But then, of course, nothing she had done with Sander so far would have fit the person she tried to be in the outside world. She didn't know why he in particular brought this out in her, but once she had conceded that first victory to him, allowed him to pin her down, it had been like running downhill. It was hard to stop.

He just seemed lit from within by some glorious energy, something almost smug and victorious, whenever he stood over her. It did something to her...

So when his cum drenched her tongue, though her first instinct was to fight, pull away and spit it out... she swallowed. She sat still as his cock slid in until the base was nestled between her lips, and his salty, sticky seed dripped onto the back of her tongue and right down her throat, shot by shot as his cock swelled and twitched. His orgasm tightened the muscles in his thighs, and Mels could feel them through his pants, when he was crowded in this close.

Sander was very conscious of his automatic desire to laugh, as he pulled away from Mels' nude form. In his mind he could see so clearly all the little teasing, flirting interactions that the Doctor and River would share in future, only now they were all interpreted through the lens of what he had just done with the very same woman. He felt his shoulders shaking a little, the silent, barely contained giggling bubbling up in odd little ways through his body. He hoped Mels couldn't see it; she was probably distracted, anyway.

Briefly, he wondered what the future really held for her. Had the Doctor ever spoken to her about him after Amy had been rescued? Had Amy herself? Or Rory? Exactly how much did River end up knowing about his connection to the Doctor? Was he in her little blue book? Did she shift guiltily from foot to foot whenever his name came up?

Just how much of this day would she be unable to live down?

As he straightened his clothes and made himself presentable, Sander looked at Mels out of the corner of his eye. She was still kneeling, but when she realized he was looking her way, she leapt to her feet, giving him a guarded, though thoroughly satisfied look. Sander got the feeling she very rarely got to indulge in this side of her personality; too busy running free and disrupting the daily goings on in Leadworth. He grinned at her.

'So, that was something, huh?'

'Yeah,' A familiar grin spread across her face, returning her features to a kind of equilibrium; some modicum of her breezy, confident demeanor had returned. Though still naked, she had gone from being nervous and essentially pinned, to amused, languid, in control. Some aspects of the experience had been unexpected for her, but she had always been one to enjoy a consequence free fuck.

'Don't tell me you're going to get all talky now, yeah?' She continued, attempting sarcastic and smooth, and almost achieving it. But her natural wariness wasn't as well hidden as it usually was, showing through in the tightness of her expression. For a natural born liar, Mels finally looked like she had something to hide.

'I wouldn't dream of it, Miss,' Sander gave her a showy, vaguely mocking nod and smile. 'No, I think we both know that when you drag a guy you met a few minutes before back to your bedroom, it's not going to be a terribly long lasting thing. Still good, though.'

He could have waited for her to answer, to say anything, but for some reason he wasn't willing to make this a conversation. If he let her get the last word, he would be legitimizing her, giving her more power than he was comfortable with. Better that he take the initiative, and remind her that this had been just as much a throwaway encounter for him as it had been for her.

Well... Better that she believe that, anyway.

'I'll just let myself out, then,' He said, entirely conscious that Mels herself had just opened her mouth to speak. 'No need in dragging this out, and you don't exactly look like one for cuddling.'

She nodded, sprawling herself out on her bed- at least as far as the limited space would allow- without a care for her nudity. Sander got an eyeful before slipping out through the door and into the hall. He committed how she looked to memory, not wanting to give up even a single fragment of today's events. After finally putting some distance between himself and Mels, he allowed his laughter some breathing room, chuckling to himself as he stepped outside.

It was late afternoon now, the sunlight going a deep orange as the sun dipped lower on the horizon. Mels' home formed a deep well of shadow, cool and pleasant to walk in as Sander travelled from one shadow to the next, each house casting a depressingly similar silhouette. It was as if a giant cookie cutter had just descended from on high and stamped a row of identical shadows out of the light around them. Mass produced scenery.

But Sander found it strangely pleasant, and he knew why; he had grown up in a city without a sky, where the natural world had been stamped down and cultivated, allowed to grow only in certain aesthetically pleasing gardens. Even on Vesperia he had stuck to the capital city, where he could at least run the rest of the settlements in relative peace. Despite being stuck way out from his own time, he couldn't help but delight in being in a place so... untamed.

The grass under his feet, a softer option than the path that lay mere feet away, made him want to take off his shoes just to feel it against his skin. Oh, there had been grass on Trismestigius, but not like this, not without the rumble of machinery just below the surface. This planet didn't vibrate the way his home did, and more than that, it was Earth. Earth grass, growing out of Earth soil, and-

Ah... Earth Amy and Rory, walking a little ways up the path. And Earth Amy, staring at him with an expression of nervous disbelief on her face. No escaping that without looking mighty suspicious, and he just knew that if he turned around now, Amy would follow. She had a tendency to follow mysterious strangers.

'Well, this should be fun...'

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 04



Author's Note: This series builds off of elements of the previous Panic Moon series. To get the full experience, it is recommended, though not necessary, to read that one first.

Hello, fellows! Apologies for the longer wait this time, it won't happen again. I was just focusing on my Halloween contest entry for a while. You'll be getting new chapters far faster, now. As usual, your votes, comments and feedback are entirely appreciated, and many thanks to LogicalDreamer for beta reading for me. Enjoy!

-Kurokami

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

He had to tear his eyes away from her.

That was important; no matter what, keep things casual. Don't act like her appearance there is in any way shocking or strange. Don't stare. Just keep walking, as though a past version of himself was not holding a future version of her hostage.

Sander kept walking, all the while feeling as though he had just crested the rise of a rollercoaster, and was just about to take the long, uncontrollable fall that followed.

He stopped in the middle of the path in front of the pair of Leadworth natives, he and Amy exchanging a steady, significant look. Beside her, Rory looked from the Scot to the stranger and back again, wondering why their journey had ground to a halt. Sander realized with amusement that they were probably going to see Mels.

'Um, hi...' Amy ventured finally, seemingly unable to hold his gaze for more than a few seconds. It was cute, in a way; this was much more like Amy as he had first met her, when her sexual guilt and conservatism had been far more pronounced. Back in his native present she had gotten somewhat used to him, he couldn't raise this kind of reaction with nothing but the lascivious look he gave her now. It bolstered him somewhat, even when standing on the brink of a universe rending temporal paradox.

'So, we need to talk,' He said, without really thinking. Like it or not, things were different now; history had changed, and he was the only one who knew about it. Amy's little alien hitchhiker was new, and it needed to be dealt with; Amy did not have an extraterrestrial tagalong when she boarded the TARDIS for the first time. He was obliged to help, if only for the preservation of his own timeline, and to do that he needed to stick close to Pond. Even if it did feel like skirting a narrow cliff face overlooking a sharp drop...

'We do?' The old Amy bluff began to shine through a little more, and she even raised a challenging eyebrow. Sander grinned without realizing it; how many times had Amy questioned him like this, only for him to resolve it in the most one sided way possible? This time, there were no Command Collars to fall back on. A challenge...

'Amy, do you know him?' Rory's voice intruded from off to the side, causing Sander to glance over and actually look at the future Mr. Pond for the first time. He didn't do so for long; this wasn't the same Rory who would wait millennia for his lady love. He wasn't the Last Centurion yet, and at the moment he didn't even have Amy. This was the Rory Williams that Leadworth had made; a boy with an otherwise good heart, made useless and nonfunctional by his sheer meekness. A lost soul with puppy dog eyes caught up in the wake of a woman with an actual purpose in the universe. 

Sander wondered what would happen to Rory is he chose to wrench history out of its socket right now, dislocate the bones of time itself. If he excised Amy from the Doctor's future now, would Rory ever find the strength to be with Amy? Without the Doctor, there would be no Mels, no outside force to inform Amy of Rory's interest in her... why would he ever change? Wouldn't it be funny, watching the meek boy become the meek nurse... and have that be where everything stopped? 

... Of course, he could never actually do that. No, that would cascade through history like a hail of bullets, ripping apart everything he had ever known, and for what? A cheap, vindictive joke? No, thank you.

'Yeah, she does,' Sander answered for Amy; he may have decided not to deploy his causality shattering practical joke, but that didn't mean he needed to make things easy for old Rory. 'Made my short stay in your little village quite memorable already, she has. And I need to talk to her, if she's not busy.'

'Well, actually, we were-'

'Not busy at all,' Amy, blushing furiously, cut Rory off before he could finish his thought. Even Sander felt a little bad at the way his face fell, the way he backed down from her without so much as a second thought. Amy had him trained to follow, as pathetic as that was; Rory Williams seemed to have himself defined as Amy's shadow. When she turned to face him, he actually took a minute step back.

'Give us some space, Rory?' With an apologetic smile, Amy gestured down the road. 'Why don't you go on ahead, I'll catch up in a bit and meet you at Mels'.'

Mumbling a series of platitudes and uncomfortable assurances, Rory began walking again, the slight hesitance of his gait hinting strongly at his unwillingness to leave his crush alone with a total stranger, especially one that looked as scruffy as Sander did. Still, with Amy watching there was little that he could do, and after a few seconds of slow but steady backpedalling he did seem to get the idea that she wouldn't change her mind, turning completely to walk up the path, shoulders slumped. Sander almost laughed; how was it that Amy still didn't realize that boy was crushing on her something bad?

'About this morning-' She began, once some distance had been put between the two of them and their retreating third wheel. Sander cut her off, waving a hand vaguely.

'Not here,' He said. 'Someplace actually private. Not something a gentleman or a lady discusses in the middle of the street, Pond.'

He knew he had used her name again, despite not having gotten it from her, even during their frenzied, alien hormone induced fucking. This time she caught it, and it caused her to frown, an expression Sander wasn't entirely unfamiliar with. Still, it was somehow different in the more level playing field Leadworth represented. If he said something she didn't like, she could just leave; he would have to work to keep her on the hook.

This time, she seemed to at least take it in stride, casting her eyes about the place before settling on an idea she appeared to like. Pointing, she led him in between the nearest two houses, into the small paved gap separating the properties. Apparently Leadworth was stricter about division of land than would be immediately apparent; the entire block had a network of orderly lined alleys serving as the border from one house to the next. Amy turned out to be quite adept at navigating them, walking with confidence through to the center of the maze; an isolated, slightly larger than the rest space clad in chill, shadow laden concrete. What sunlight there was only came second hand; the high walls of the houses that surrounded them on all sides kept the space bathed in damp shadows and the faint scent of moisture as a nearby drain pipe emptied messily in and around the grating below it.

A pair of bizarrely out of place reclining chairs sat together in one corner, made threadbare by age and exposure to the elements. Sander shot Amy a questioning look.

'Teenagers need places to go to skip school,' She shrugged, seating herself in the chair furthest from them, not coincidentally giving her a full view of Sander no matter where he went in the lot.

'What is it with you and dragging me into isolated areas?' He grinned back. 'I'm still a stranger, you know.'

'You were the one going on about privacy,' Amy tilted her chin up, eyeing the stranger with care. Her long legs folded up beneath her, as she slid back to bundle her entire form onto the seat of the armchair, gesturing absently for Sander to take the other one. He nodded, eyes never leaving her as he sat down beside her, taking in her wary, guarded expression. He didn't know to what extent the organism that had made her take him up to her room had allowed her to remember the events of the morning, but it had definitely left an impression.

'Listen...' Evidently she had opted to take the bull by the horns here, shifting nervously in her seat as she attempted to explain herself. 'I don't usually do things like, um, this morning. That's not me.'

'I know,' He said vaguely, looking around. He knew that was hardly the case, or at least it wouldn't be, once the Doctor came swanning back into her life. But as far as she knew, she was telling the truth; this place was a relic of her teenage years, grounded in reality. Bogged down by a normal life she longed to escape. Generally speaking, Sander had skipped over those days when observing her past, building up a stock of information about her, but he had seen more than one of the lazy afternoons she had spent in this gap in the fabric of Leadworth, whiling away the time with Mels and Rory. Biding her time, of course.

No matter where she had gone in Leadworth, a part of Amy was always biding her time, waiting for her Doctor to come back.

'How do you know?' This had been the question on her mind, of course. Ever since their first meeting, he had been slipping up here and there, it had to be making her curious. He blamed himself, naturally, but it was hardly surprising; he had never travelled through time before, he wasn't used to couching his words in all of this timey wimey bullshit. Even the Doctor hadn't really gotten the hang of it yet, though to Sander that had more to do with the Time Lord being desperately, awfully insane. 

'Because every girl who picks up a guy for a one night... one morning stand says that. "I'm not that kind of girl," which always struck me as somewhat strange,' Sander recovered as quickly as he could, deciding to ramble a little and dislodge her interest in the question. 'I mean, obviously you are. You did it, after all. What would that make you, if not that kind of girl?'

The redhead had been blushing subtly the entire time they had been together, and this latest comment only intensified that. Suddenly, Sander found himself intensely interested; where was that girl who had seen the Doctor turn back the tides of the Weeping Angels, and then tried to seduce him? It could just have been that she had a fetish for weird strangers who made little sense, but then that wouldn't account for her being embarrassed about having slept with him. Sander already was a weird stranger, and he had made very little sense so far. 

It must be something in the intervening years; what had happened to her between now and the return of the Doctor? 

She didn't answer him, instead dropping her eyes into her lap, her entire being seeming to crumple in on itself in a shameful heap. She had never looked like this before, and Sander found it strangely frustrating; here was the only familiar link he had to his life, and she didn't even have the decency to act like the Amy he knew?

Again he turned his eyes away; if she wasn't going to look at him, he wouldn't look at her, either. Let this shadow of Amy Pond have her embarrassment. Sander began to think that this was just what Leadworth did to people; it normalized normalcy. It made complacency the only option, flattened its citizens out, smoothed the wrinkles on their brains and made them... this. Like it was a symptom of some Leadworth disease. Amy had fared slightly better than most, but it was easy for him to see the oily tendrils of the town attempting to drag her down with mounting success. Without the influence of the Time Lord, the difference was quite pronounced. How much longer did she have, before she too would lapse into the Leadworth coma?

With that thought, the angles of this strange gap in the town became skewed, to Sander's eyes. Odd, somehow. When he looked up, he noted that the skybox was all wrong; the four walls surrounding them stretched up and caged the sky above into an easy rectangle, but the patch of visible air was off kilter, the clouds descending at a strange, disjointed pace. Shambling through the sky as though awkwardly trying to avoid attention, ashamed to be seen floating over Leadworth. He could hardly blame them. 

And on the stained concrete wall opposite him, there was a crack...

It only stood extant for a single moment, caught and frozen in the blurred motion of his vision, but the outline was inescapable. That familiar jutting, angular form. The Gloucester grin of reality. Like the universe, smiling smugly through a mouthful of broken teeth. And he remembered, not everything in Leadworth was locked in the straitjacket of normality. 

The cracks in time...

They had been all closed up in the universe Sander had known, collapsed in on themselves at the restart of the universe. The Doctor's flashy sacrifice, at the second Big Bang. Their presence here was just another indicator that something was terribly wrong, like Amy's lack of parents, or more pertinently Prisoner Zero. Rather than just having slipped through time, it was becoming increasingly likely that Sander had fallen through into an entirely separate timeline, having been spat right back out into the original, aborted universe. Once again, he was the refuse of history.

The thought instilled in him an odd kind of fatalism; what did it matter, now? How could anything he or anyone else did here mean a thing? It was all destined for deletion, anyway; the sum total of this universe's accomplishments, excised from reality in the crossfire of the Doctor's petty war with the Silence. How could anything he did here have any kind of consequences? This place had a lifespan measurable in years.

'I swear, I don't know what came over me...' Amy said suddenly, voice meandering and aimless. She was mostly trying to justify her actions to herself, and it didn't matter one bit. Even if he didn't already know the answer to that particular mystery, it wouldn't have mattered. Why bother?

'Actually, I might know,' The idea seized him like a fist, squeezing out any hope of rescue he might have had, and replacing it with a manic sense of ennui. Nothing mattered, so what the hell? 'We've met before.' 

'Nope, pretty sure I would remember that,' Amy said. 'Aren't many strangers that bother to come out all the way here. In fact... why are you here? People don't accidentally end up in Leadworth, you must have a reason.'

Sander had begun to feel like the only option he had was to throw himself over this precipice with a grin on his face; rescue was becoming less of a possibility by the second, yet he couldn't even allow his creeping horror at having found a crack in reality here to show on his face. He had to keep things together for the benefit of... what? A causality that he was seemingly no longer attached to? 

There were still too many questions to deal with, here; would changes to established events here still cause divergence in his own timeline? Would he be able to ride through the Big Bang Two and land back in his native timeline? What would that mean if he did decide to screw with history in this universe? 

It was all out of his control, that was the problem. The Doctor might be able to do battle on a universal scale, to go up against the dwindling sparks of a dying universe and end up restarting the whole thing, but Sander? Just a human, at the end of the day. A gifted mechanical engineer sure, but take away the technology he knew how to use and he was useless. Worse than useless; filled up with foreknowledge he could never use. That was having a use, but seeing it dangle just out of reach. 

But there was something he could do, some part of all this that he could control, at least until he got rescued or the entire universe collapsed into itself. Whichever came first.

Sure would be fun to see how this developed...

'You want to know the truth, Amy?' He waited for her to nod, before he continued, leveling his eyes with hers. 'The truth is, I'm a time traveler.'

Amy stiffened in her chair, seized by surprise, but only momentarily. Seconds later, a scowl passed over her features, and she stood, fists clenched.

'Oh, right! Very funny!' She snapped, pacing out into the center of the yard, footsteps echoing loudly on the bare concrete. 'Any other jokes you'd like to make, funny man?'

'Not joking. You've met a time traveler before,' Sander reclined back in his chair, taking in the scene. He had more than a little academic curiosity about this; so far, nothing strange had happened. There had been no wavy, weird time stuff, nor had the fabric of reality altered because of this. Though of course, if it had... how would he even tell? The thought sent a shiver down his spine, but he continued, 'It was sort of a big deal for you.'

'Yes, yes, everyone knows the stories!' Amy's voice had deepened into a low growl, anger making her words hard enough to etch glass. Sander could tell he was jumping on a very sensitive subject here, 'Imaginative little Amelia, spacey little Amelia, lying little Amelia...'

'He was called the Doctor, he landed on top of your shed in an old fifties style police box, which apparently had a swimming pool and a library,' Sander cut in, droning out the facts as though they bored him. 'He ate fish fingers and custard, and you showed him the crack in your bedroom wall. There was a giant eyeball in it, talking about a Prisoner Zero.'

'Everyone. Knows. The. Stories,' She ground out each word through clenched teeth. 'I'm leaving.'

'But you never told anyone else about the apple you gave him.'

This caused her to stop dead in her tracks, back to Sander, looking out toward an exit which would take her back out into the streets, and her normal life in Leadworth. Her heartbeat sped up; too much... He couldn't possibly...

'W-what did you just say?' Try as she might, Amy couldn't get the slight tremble out of her voice, as she turned around to face him again. His expression was one of utter, confident relaxation. Amy only wished she could match that; after all these years, even she had started to wonder... what if it all just had been a dream? A fiction she had created? 

If the truth is never externally validated, is it really the truth at all?

'The apple,' Sander persisted. 'The one you peeled a little smiley face into. Very cute, but you don't really tell people about those. Your mum used to do that for you, but... Nobody can really remember your parents that well, can they? Even your aunt. She knows you must have had them, but she can't recall them well enough. She gets all odd when you mention them, and since you can barely remember them either... you just stopped talking about them.'

'How...'

'Because I learned it all in the future,' He said. 'My name is Sander Hackett, and in the future I know you, and the Doctor. I've met him, met you through him... I'm stuck here, but I can at least use this as an opportunity. I can save you!'

He stopped there, abruptly, as Amy stared, wide eyed. He allowed her stunned silence to pass unfilled with his own commentary, waiting for the entire world to collapse around his ears. Now he'd done it; causality had been violated in quite an extreme way, and the fabric of this universe wasn't yet flexible enough to bend with that. Though there seemed to be no immediate consequences, Sander's newly found reckless streak reveled in what may come in future.

Foreknowledge meant nothing now...

'Save me from what?' All of her previous anger had drained away, and now Amy was still, body carrying her tension as she stood in front of him, hands hanging limply at her sides, as though she didn't know precisely what to do with them in the moment. 'Assuming I believe you.'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 04



'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. 




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 04



He catalogued this fragment of knowledge, like any good scientist would in his position; Amy gets off, and the alien backs off...

Even as Sander regained majority control of his senses, he could feel Amy shuddering in his arms, in the grips of what had to be the same uncut cocaine orgasm that the creature had given them both the last time they had... well, fucked. He was tempted to back off a little, give himself a better view of the action in progress, but thought better of it; if someone really did walk past, a groaning Amy would pretty quickly get them discovered and worse, identified. If he kept this close, not only could he muffle her reactions, but their closeness and the distance from the street would render them as indistinct silhouettes to anyone on the street proper. 

Besides, the warm feeling progressively coating his palm was kind of nice, not to mention the soft feeling of her thighs squeezing his hand...

In time, Amy slackened, muscles unwinding as she came back down to Earth from the stratosphere. She exhaled all at once, her breath fluttering unevenly as it tickled Sander's face, and for the moment their kiss remained, her tongue moved against his, far more actively than he was used to; he had to remind himself that this was a very different iteration of Amy Pond. A willing Pond...

When he pulled away, she licked her lips; it wasn't a sensual gesture, just an automatic one, but Sander couldn't help but wonder if she could still taste him there. Her eyes were wide, and his fingers were still inside of her; for a moment they stayed locked like that, neither one wanting to move and break the spell, sending things spinning into awkward territory. Amy seemed to assume that once either of them recognized what had happened, they would be embarrassed; she had no idea just how many times Sander had been in similar circumstances with her. It occurred to him that it would be best to keep it that way, if he wanted to get close to Amy in this time period.

Eventually he saw fit to withdraw his hand from her pants, and in the dim afternoon light the two of them watched it glisten, coated in Amy's juices. Even as she desperately worked to set her clothes back in place, the redhead's eyes remained locked on his hand with a kind of shameful fascination. Following a sudden surge of dominant inspiration, Sander spoke up, almost instinctively.

'I could make you lick it clean,' He said, voice so low the words almost constituted a threat. But it wasn't, and Amy knew that; he had just stated a fact, as he wiggled his sticky fingers before her eyes. 

'I know,' Amy's voice trembled, her eyes wide and fearful; not only was it a possibility, but she wondered if he would actually do it, here in this alley, with the threat of someone she knew walking by every second. Even through her nerves, her cunt throbbed at the possibility, a deeply detailed image of him forcing his fingers into her mouth entering her mind. When Sander put his hands in his pockets, Amy couldn't decide if she was relieved or disappointed. 

Now they were disengaged, neither of them seemed to know what to do; both simply stood close together, Amy's back still to the wall. She was breathing heavily, as what remained of her earlier exertions slowly dissipated, leaving her with a persistent warm feeling and Sander's eyes glued to her body. Sated as she was, she could still feel the want in his gaze, and a small part of her was thrilled to see it; the kinds of people she usually dated, or saw on the job, only ever experienced a surface level attraction. They saw her legs, and her ass, and possibly her tits, but they never wanted her in the same way Sander so clearly did. She knew if she gave any of those younger men a shot they would fuck her, but just in experiencing Sander's proximity, she knew he would do very different things to her. 

The correct word for it escaped her; the closest she could come was devour. If she let him- possibly even if she didn't, perish the thought...- he would devour her, use her up and leave behind a quivering mess... do things to her she hadn't even known she'd wanted before he did them...

'Sander's a strange name,' She said suddenly, to break the tension building between them. She still felt strange herself, and didn't want to get drawn back into this.

'It's Dutch,' He answered, blinking as he raised his gaze to her eyes. 

'Are you Dutch, then?' Silly question Amy knew, but she felt a need to find out more about this man that had dropped into her life, apparently from outer space.

'I'm not from Earth at all,' He said, with a small chuckle. Stretching, he turned and walked back to the armchairs, putting himself out of sight from the world beyond. A little frustrated that now was the time he started valuing stealth, Amy followed.

'Ah yes, future man,' Amy pointed as she took the seat beside him, watching him with eyes that she hoped came across as guarded and wary. 'I'm still not sure I believe you on that.'

'It doesn't require your belief,' Sander shrugged. 'But my reality requires you. If you don't first meet me exactly the way I remember finding you, my whole life could change.'

'What do you mean?' Amy said. 'Is this... you said alien in my brain, earlier?'

'Yeah, that's what's troubling me,' Sander sat up in his chair, leaning over the worn, threadbare arm toward Amy, inspecting her eyes with a detailed gaze. 'Tell me, did you enjoy what we just did?'

Amy blushed, rocked back in her chair to put some distance between herself and Sander. Her mouth opened, searching for the words but unable to find any; what kind of a question was that? Didn't he already know? It sure as hell felt like he did...

'No, don't go all blushing virgin on me while my fingers are still damp, Amy,' He shook his head emphatically, giving his fingers a demonstrative wriggle in front of her face. 'Now answer the question: did you like what we just did?'

'I did...' Amy answered reluctantly, grudgingly. She lowered her eyes, unable to take the grin that spread across Sander's face. She had never had someone... tower over her like this, able to manipulate her with so little opposition. At times, she could almost believe that he knew her in the future... far, far more intimately than she was comfortable admitting.

'Well, that's for the best,' Sander leaned back, bringing his knees up to his chest. 'We'll probably be doing stuff like that a lot.'

'What?' The redhead leapt to her feet, backing away quickly, as the conversation took a turn for the creepy.

'Look, I'm sorry to be so blunt about it, but it's something we're both gonna have to face,' Sander threw her a number of conciliatory gestures, keeping his tone as gentle as he could. 'As near as I can tell, the alien parasite in you feeds off of sex, and it'll do whatever it takes to get some. So it drives whoever's around you completely wild, and does the same to you... we're like an instant meal for it.'

'Okay...' Amy nodded, blushing as memories of the brunette in the field flooded her mind. 'That's kind of familiar.'

'No doubt. And I know your future, Amy. You never had that parasite when I knew you, which means I've gotta find some way to remove it, using twenty-first century tech, and fast. If that means sticking to you like glue, then that's what I've gotta do, but that also means I'll be your alien's source of protein for a while. Because I have no idea what it'll do to you if left unchecked.'

'This is a lot to take in, you know!' Amy shot back, frowning. 'And I'm not saying I even believe any of it...'

'You're filled with alien hormones, you tell me if I'm telling the truth,' Sander shrugged again, only this time the gesture seemed infuriating to Amy. 'If you're being honest with yourself, you'll figure it out, and you'll also discover that spending that time with me will probably be a lot of fun, if our last two times are any indication.'

'So, to be clear: you, an obviously older stranger, are attempting to- without wanting to at all, I'm sure- get into the pants of me, a pretty eighteen year old village girl... and I'm not allowed to be suspicious at all?' Amy said slowly, after a substantial pause in which all she did was stare at Sander. 

'Oh god, I'm actually double your age, I never even thought of that...' He said, expression shifting from mild concern to a kind of amused lasciviousness. Upon seeing Amy's expression, he became serious again, 'Hey, I know this is a lot to find out all at once, and a lot of it must seem pretty insane. I must seem pretty insane... but you know that I'm right. Once upon a time a guy twice as crazy as I seem crashed into your shed, and you trusted him. You still trust him, because they haven't fully pounded that out of you yet. I am not as much of a long shot as him.'

'I don't know...'

'Hey, if I'm a liar then you'll have no problem resisting me, won't you? The fact that you're this unsure just tells me you know exactly what I'm talking about,' At this, Sander winked. 'Besides, if you let me hang out I'll tell you stuff about the future.'

Amy took a moment to consider this, but Sander knew he already had her. Keeping things light, that was the key; this was an Amy who hadn't yet matured into the woman he knew. She was very much still the Girl Who Waited, keeping her life in a holding pattern in the hopes that her Doctor would return. She wasn't accustomed to the kind of serious darkness the Time Lord would bring to her life; he had to match that tone, and introduce her to new facts slowly. 

'Where did you say you were from?' She smiled as she spoke, and Sander grinned in return. It was a good sign; how many years had she sat and pondered the kinds of questions she would ask the alien who had come to visit her as a child?

'New Earth,' He answered.

'Oh, come on!' 

'No, I'm serious!' Sander laughed. 'I'm from New Earth! From the year 3375. I lived on a moon called Trismestigius with a couple of aliens and a half breed. I owned the place.'

'You owned a moon?' 

'Stellar real estate is cheap, assuming there's no valuable minerals or living organisms there. You can pick up a level zero planetary body for... pocket change, really. You'll see for yourself, in future. You'll go there,' Sander trailed off, deciding that this was exactly as much information as he was willing to impart, here. Best to keep her asking questions of a more general matter; if she knew the truth, he might never be allowed to fix the problem. 

'Yeah, you'll need to tell me more about that-'

'Later, I promise,' He cut in. 'Not here. Take me to your place? No funny business if we can help it, I just... don't want to be left out in the cold, if you know what I mean? Unfriendly ears, and all that...'

Of course, for right now she didn't need to know he also meant that literally...

Amy leveled an appraising gaze at Sander, looking for any sign that he was being less than honest. The difference between him and her first alien visitor was so stark, and at least the Doctor had brought some form of evidence with him. Sander was relying almost completely on an odd feeling in Amy herself, and some- admittedly accurate and unsettling- knowledge he could not otherwise have had. 

But then, there was a kind of honesty in the stranger's expression; if he was hiding anything, it didn't seem malevolent. Yet.

'A space parasite that feeds off of sex, huh?' She said, finally.

'The universe is a big place, and evolution finds a way,' Sander shot back. 'Pretty much any permutation of life exists, if you look long enough. Sometimes, they come looking too. Twenty first century earth kids at least started the casual sex thing- that'll continue, by the way- so there's a ready food source... I think this one might have gotten off course or something, though. I mean, Leadworth...'

'Yeah, I know,' Amy sighed. 'Criminal lack of young men.'

'I've been here a few days, and I've only seen Rory,' Sander trailed off, before laughing a little, to himself. It seemed as though he was at least attempting to suppress the sound, 'Probably good you found me then, before you did something embarrassing with someone you have to live with afterward. Me, at least I'll be gone once I've fixed the problem and hitched a ride out.'

Amy's frown at that surprised even herself; it brought a pang of near panic with it, at the thought that he would be leaving too. Another alien visitor leaving her behind in Leadworth? Far too familiar... And after the last time, Amy wasn't eager to repeat the experience.

'What'll you do when that happens? Just go back to your own time?' She said, adding timidly. 'Leave me?'

'It's a bit more complex than that,' Sander sighed. 'And I will explain, but we need to not be here right now. Imagine how hard it'll be to explain to your neighbors, talking about the Raggedy Doctor again. All your hard work looking normal, down the drain, all because of gossip.'

'Alright, space boy,' She relented, finally. 'You can come with me, I suppose. But promise me you'll try to keep it in your pants, at least...'

'I can but try,' Sander said, jumping to his feet. 'Come on, let's go. I already know the way.'

It wasn't too long a journey; Leadworth was mostly negative space, if it felt like being expansive. Otherwise, all the buildings kept in close, civilization in a herd, as if afraid of letting the outside world in. All it did, to Sander's outsider's eye, was show just how limited the village really was, as they passed the totality of Leadworth's amenities in the space of a few minutes. It depressed him that he would be spending his one trip to the original Earth in a place like this.

All too soon they were back at the Pond house, and it was only then that Sander realized it might not be empty this time. He had never been terribly interested in the family Amy had in this particular version of history; her aunt Sharon had seemed profoundly uninteresting to him, but then... he had been awfully absorbed in his plan at that point. Everyone had faded out from his life then, as his world narrowed down into tunnel vision focused on the Doctor. 

He really had no idea how Sharon would react to... well, to him; the strange older man hanging around her niece. But he could guess...

When he looked over, he could see Amy winding up to ask a question, most likely one around the precise idea that he himself was ruminating on, but Sander didn't give her the time to do so. He gave her a gentle push to the small of her back, compelling her to move; if he started thinking about this situation too much now, he might flee from the potential causal disaster that still loomed large in his mind. History itself could come crashing down on him like a tidal wave any moment, correcting him right out of the timeline with vicious, predetermined certainty. And so he moved, made events happen, to keep just ahead of the merciless currents of time.

Of course, Sharon was right inside, her gaze unavoidable as Amy entered the house, allowing Sander to follow her with a slight duck of her head to her aunt. Sander immediately baulked upon seeing the older woman; if he had seen her while looking back into the past, he had never truly looked at her before. She was all dark haired and prim looking and... immaculate, in that way that only small town, church going, woman could be. 

In essence, she would be a challenge.

'Amelia? Who is this?' Sharon's gaze went past Amy, locking on Sander with a guarded kind of expression. Sander ended up returning an automatic, awkward smile, but Amy stepped up to the plate right away; evidently, bullshitting her aunt is something the young woman had become quite adept at. This made a lot of sense; even putting aside Amy's own propensity for trouble, the redhead was friends with Mels.

'Well, this is Mr. Hackett, he's... new in town, so I was-'

'Showing me the sights,' Sander cut in, shooting Amy a momentary look to clue her in on exactly which sights he was referring to. He stepped forward, extending a hand, 'You must be Sharon. I'm Sander Hackett.'

He supposed, as Sharon shook his hand and gave him a once over, that this was putting his best foot forward. If he looked normal, acted normal... well, there's nothing terribly wrong about introducing oneself to the new neighbors, was there? But Sharon's expression showed mostly suspicion; he was the stranger that had come in with her young charge, after all. She was probably wondering, quite rightly, whether or not he was expecting her to be there when he came in.

'It's nice to meet you, Mr. Hackett,' She said, and following this was a strange kind of silence, as though both of them were expecting the other to say something first. On Sander's part, Sharon's presence was just an extension of the sense of the unknown he felt in simply existing here, in a reality that no longer conformed to his foreknowledge. He had no way to predict what she would do, or even make an educated guess as to what she was thinking. It can't have been good; Sander knew he looked younger than he was thanks to his altered genes, but he was still obviously older than Amy by quite a margin. What must his following the young woman look like, from the outside looking in?

'Aunt Sharon, I need to talk with Sander a bit, private stuff,' Amy cut in on the silence, something for which Sander was grateful. 'So I'm going to, um, take him up to my room for a bit.'

She didn't frame her words as a question, and despite Sharon's attempt at protesting, Amy kept it as a statement; gesturing Sander up the stairs before her aunt could say much more. The redhead's attention to detail was admirable; she had taken the time to pretend that Sander didn't already know the way to her room. Clearly, she had some practice deceiving her aunt.

Still, as Sander followed her up the stairs, they were accosted by the older woman's voice from below, her tone belying her desire to wrest back at least a little control of a situation that had quickly gotten away from her.

'Amelia, you keep your door open, young lady!'

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 05



Author's Note: This series builds off of elements of the previous Panic Moon series. To get the full experience, it is recommended, though not necessary, to read that one first.

Hi again, readers! Here's the new Rising: you know the deal, I love all your feedback, votes etc, so please keep sending them! I won't ramble on, with that out of the way: enjoy!

Kurokami

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

'So...' Amy found herself leaning forward conspiratorially, eyes drifting furtively to her all-too-open door, as it gaped open, leaving her and her new... whatever Sander was, vulnerable to eavesdropping. And that wasn't something that the redhead would put past her aunt, especially in a situation like this, when Amy had just bluffed a complete stranger into the house. 

'You're thinking we'll be spied on,' Sander, on the other hand, leaned back, supporting his weight on the palm of one hand, seemingly very at ease in her room. Amy remembered the last time he had been here, and what had happened; a blush crept up her cheeks, as she recalled just how uninhibited and vulnerable she had been then. It had been...

Well, Amy couldn't really decide what she thought of that. There were undeniably attractive aspects; even leaving aside the fact that it had led her to Sander- who had his own set of developing positive traits- that strange lust was freeing, in a way that Leadworth rarely allowed her to be. This place was deathly, powerfully normal, and letting go like she had been able to in the past few days was immensely satisfying, just on its own terms. 

But Amy could be rational too, and she knew how dangerous freeing herself from the expectations of her home could be, even for as short a time as those furtive, dizzying bouts of sex. She could forgive herself for going against the limited imaginations of those in Leadworth for a second time- after all, she had well and truly burned that bridge upon first speaking of the Doctor- but the way she had betrayed her own safety...

The fact was, both times she had allowed herself to be overcome by her baser urges, it had been with total strangers; first the brunette woman in the field, and then with Sander in her own home. Of course, she had had no way of knowing what either of them wanted, whether they were sane, or even where their dalliances would go, before she had them. That alone was a bad enough lapse in judgment, but then she had been so desperate as to open the door and let Sander into her bedroom on only their second meeting...

She regarded the man opposite her, trying to find... something, anything that she might have missed earlier, in the fugue of arousal, that would reveal who he really was. Whether or not he was telling the truth was still the biggest question in her mind; it felt like he was at least mostly being truthful, but then, he could just turn out to be a very good liar. Hell, he didn't even have to be that good; Amy knew she had a weakness for anyone who would accept her account of the Doctor, and Sander had more than accepted it, he had expanded on it. For all Amy knew, she was just being credulous in the face of such acceptance.

'Would your aunt do that?' He spoke again, and Amy realized she had been silently staring for just a little too long. The man smiled, and with the sun shining on his face and familiar scenery surrounding him, Amy couldn't help but find herself more at ease. This was a far cry from having him pressed against her in some damp alley, all powerful and threatening; here, he seemed almost normal, though this idea was somewhat undermined as he continued, 'Eavesdrop, I mean. I don't know much about her, she was... somewhat out of my time period.'

'I dunno, maybe,' Amy replied, before adding thoughtfully, 'Probably.'

'We'll need to find a workaround for her,' Sander frowned. 'I mean, we'll need to work pretty closely together... Not easy with someone like Sharon breathing down our necks.'

'She does do that,' Amy nodded. 'When she's here. Honestly, you don't need to be that concerned, she works a lot. But I've noticed you assume you're staying, too.'

'I do think I'm staying,' Sander nodded. 'Because you let me follow you home. Twice. And because I saw the look in your eyes when I confronted you on that. You know what's going on in your head isn't natural, and you figure I'm the only one who can help.'

'See, I really don't know that,' Amy countered, shooting him a challenging glance. 'All I know about you is that you're good at... well, one thing.'

'Yeah, but I said some stuff about the Doctor too, so you're at least gonna give me a chance,' Sander grinned, catching the path the conversation was taking solidly enough to shoot a cautious glance out the door to catch any possible interlopers.

'Alright, fine,' Amy relented, acknowledging the truth that he was, in fact, sitting on her bed. The fact was, she had trusted him this far, there was little point in arguing that now, 'Start at the beginning. Alien brain parasite?'

This caused him to shift, rocking forward on his haunches, pulling in as if in acknowledgement that this had become a serious discussion, all of a sudden. But there was a level of uncomfortable awkwardness to his features, a silent admission that what he had to say was less than entirely impressive. The simple fact was... he still didn't really know what was going on there. 

And a shrug of the shoulders was not a convincing beginning to this conversation. 

'Yeah...' He began, mind shifting through a multitude of possibilities and memories. He might not have had concrete facts on Amy's case specifically, but if he strained his imagination he could remember those few lazy biology lessons, all those years ago, that had covered psychoreactive biochemistry and its possible applications. Sander had learned just enough of the stuff to know how to apply it to artificial neuro-controllers and nerve connections between living pilots and the robots he had once designed for a living, but if he concentrated he was sure he could pick out a few choice tidbits about the organisms that had used such techniques themselves. He remembered being stunned at the sheer, dazzling cosmic genius of evolution, that it had produced such creatures, and he hoped that his half-remembered retellings would have the same effect on Amy; it was important that he at least sounded credible.

'I won't know for sure what we're dealing with until I can scrounge together some more data,' He continued, launching into what he hoped was an explanation just detailed enough to seem smart without leaving Amy behind. 'But you're playing host to what we generally call a mind worm, in layman's terms. That's why your behavior is... changing. The alien is directing you to seek out its chosen source of food.'

'Fucking?' Amy asked, incredulous. She blinked immediately after, apparently aware that she had said that just a little too loud, 'It feeds off of sex?'

'Orgasm, rather,' Sander felt relatively confident of that fact, at least. 'Specifically, yours. Or the chemicals your brain generates when you... well, cum. Or possibly just your orgasmic energy, it's hard to measure without the proper equipment.'

'Oh, and I'm willing to bet money this isn't the kind of thing that shows up on a CAT scan, hmm?' The redhead couldn't help but sound a little disbelieving. This all sounded awfully convenient for Sander.

'Not a twentieth century one, anyway,' The man sighed. 'This is what I'm finding hardest to grasp about all this myself. If we were just a thousand years later and a couple short FTL hops away, I could get you to a xenobiological ward on New Earth, or Crux, or any other Terran world and get you fixed up. Here... I don't know. This is something I'm going to have to experiment with.'

'If you try to probe me, I'll scream,' Amy said flatly, tapping her fingers lightly against one knee. 

'I might argue that I've already done that,' Sander said with a grin, and Amy found herself giggling a little at that, too. He nodded to himself, glad to see her relaxing a little. He needed her to trust him, 'But mostly I mean watching. I need to know what you experience when... that happens, just to figure out what species we're dealing with.'

'There's more than one?'

'It's a big universe,' He shrugged. 'Most of them are catalogued, and I have a working knowledge of the most common ones. As much as anyone can, I guess. It's all a matter of isolating symptoms, right now.'

'I don't run a fever, if that's what you're asking,' Amy said. 'Any more than I normally would, when... well, I know you're not asking about that, anyway.'

'How often do you do that, anyway? I know there must have been a rise lately, but when did it start?' Sander leaned forward, and Amy could feel his eyes roll over her body. As per usual in the last few days, she felt her insides heat up a little. 

'And here I thought you knew me,' Amy said, resorting to challenging him in an attempt to nip that growing problem in the bud.

'Shockingly, that never came up,' He rolled his eyes, before continuing, under his breath, 'Besides, when you and I were in the same room your usual was way higher, anyway...'

Amy seemed to have heard that, but not completely put together what he meant. The sheets crumpled beneath her as she shifted her weight restlessly, bringing her knees up to her chest and rocking on the curve of her backside, throwing her gaze around the room to find something, anything, that might make this situation just a little bit clearer. Of course, nothing was forthcoming; this was Leadworth, after all, and no matter how strange and exotic the world Sander claimed to come from was, right now he was stuck in the middle of normal, and it clearly dragged upon him. Leadworth exuded a complacent gravity, dragging down everything around it, and now even this supposed man from the stars had been caught in the well. Amy couldn't help the niggling doubts in her mind, at that.

'I still don't know about all this,' She murmured, just loud enough for Sander to hear. 'It's still all too convenient.'

'Don't make me do this, Amy,' Sander said flatly, brow furrowing. 

'Do what?'

'Don't make me get all inconvenient in service of proving myself to you,' He persisted. 'Because I'll do it.'

'I don't know how you could possibly prove that,' Amy said. 'For all I know, you've just been drugging me these past few days.'

'Oh, I can prove it,' Sander sighed. He didn't really want to have to pull a stunt like this, but he had little choice; he needed a showstopper, something to lock up Amy's ability to question him at all. He simply required her trust here; granted he might not be entirely worthy of that trust, from her especially, but at least in this case he had her best interests at heart. After all, the kind of life-form that would burrow into an unaware psyche and feed on it generally wasn't healthy for the host.

'Easy as this,' He continued, allowing himself to lean forward that last little ways to bring his outstretched hand into contact with Amy's thigh, just at the join between her legs. His knuckles brushed her groin, and even he could feel the change, like a switch flipping between the two of them. Amy shuddered at even this light contact, her cheeks blushing in an instant, blood flushing warmly across her skin. Her expression became addled, eyes locked onto him with a hungry, desperate look.

Things were silent for a moment, before Amy whined in a subdued, almost sad manner.

'Why would you do that to me?' She whimpered, squeezing her legs together. Her hands clenched in the sheets, breathing deep and shuddering enough to make even her small bust heave in her shirt, something that attracted Sander's eyes; his body, as with hers, had become enslaved by the animal instinct that his touch had brought on.

'Because I'm bad at forward planning, and you needed to believe me,' Sander's voice had become hoarse very quickly. Of course, this was the moment that Sharon decided to remind them that she was still present in the house, heavy footfalls reaching the bottom of the stairs before she called up, offering the pair a cup of tea. The hospitality was a new concept to Sander, but he could only nod in addled approval as Amy controlled her voice enough to call back, politely refusing, then waiting until the landing was silent again.

'I... believe you,' Amy shivered, having to consciously restrain herself from leaping at Sander. 'Now what do we do about it?'

There had been an eagerness in her voice that made Sander sure that she was hoping that the eventual plan they developed would include sex. And there was a raging, animal voice in his head that very much agreed with her, on that score. In fact, that very same voice wanted nothing more than to just push her down where she sat and...

But no, that wouldn't be prudent. Not with Sharon just downstairs, no doubt watchful for anything untoward going on between her charge and the stranger in her home. But the throbbing fire would not be denied; they were both marching to the drum beat of evolution now, guided along the path of their organic desires by a third, their alien conductor. There was no escaping from this, not now. He wanted her, deep in his bones.

Sander Hackett. The man with the plan. He had a need for one now, but... this would require one hell of a mundane plan, when compared to the others. 

'Yes, I did not think this one all the way through,' Sander tried to keep his voice steady, unwilling to cede completely to the lack of control just yet. His mind worked, trying to find an elegant way out of this petty, domestic little situation, before some self aware part of him found it a tad sad that he had used words like "petty" to describe his present; looking for a way to have sex with a young Scottish beauty at the behest of an alien parasite without being discovered was petty? What was wrong with his life?

He had only a limited knowledge of the layout of the Pond home, but...

'You've got a bathroom upstairs, right?' He asked, keeping his voice low. 'With a shower?'

'Yes, how did you-?' Amy caught herself. 'Time travel, right?'

'Time travel,' Sander nodded somberly. 'Wait for me to leave. Go there. Turn on the water, high as you can, and prepare to be quiet.'

'Y-you're leaving?' The girl sounded positively bereft. 'But I thought-'

'Not for long,' He shook his head. 'Open the window too. You still have that wood lattice against the wall there, Sharon hasn't had it torn down yet. Very handy for sneaking in after dark, if I recall.'

With that, he gave her a knowing little look, and made his way to the door. Even though he had said he was coming back, Amy couldn't help the desire to stop him leaving, and not just for the immediate, physical reasons; time travelers leaving her alone and promising to be back soon... that never worked out for her. She was struck with a deathly fear that she would be facing another decade-long five minute wait. 

Could she trust him that much? Like she did the Doctor? Again?

Well... Let this be his test. Though she had a highly entertaining mental image of simply waiting here and making him come find her once he scaled the wall, she felt that he had volunteered enough information for her to trust him at least that far. She stood, feeling unstable on her feet as she went; perhaps this time, Leadworth's only oddity would return to her.

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

Sander had already mentally prepared himself for the idea that he would be facing Sharon before he left the house. She would be on him before he even got to the door; that was just the sort of person she was. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing; she was only looking after her niece, but he could definitely see her need to interrogate him cramping his style, especially if he needed to keep returning, day by day. 

Amy needed daily observation if he was going to be able to formulate a list of symptoms to fight back against this thing that had infected her. How was he going to pull this off?

The problem was that he absolutely wasn't used to functioning in any society, let alone an old Earth one. Sixteen years of essentially working off the grid, able to simply take anything he wanted and hang the consequences, had given him a desire for immediacy and efficiency that he just couldn't bow to anymore. His very presence was an anomaly here, he couldn't even make enough of an impression on Leadworth to inspire the rumor mill for any extended period of time; by the time the Doctor came back, he needed to be gone from the public record. 

Not to mention, there were actual police here. Maybe only one or two, but... An unregistered stranger with no paperwork attaching himself to an already at risk teenager? Bad look.

At the bottom of the stairs the door was so tantalizingly close, and the possibility of sneaking out before Sharon noticed he was present was hard to deny. But he did, scanning the rooms beyond for her as he stopped in the hall; it was best to present himself as polite and... well, normal. At the very least, better this than as sneaky. Perhaps, if he was very lucky, he might even seem normal in doing so.

'Uh, hi,' He said, making sure to smile. She was sitting across the kitchen table with a mug in her hand, very studiously not in a position to be eavesdropping on himself and Amy. In that moment, Sander realized that this was the first time he had had a real exchange with a person he didn't know intimately in years, 'Sorry for just coming in unannounced. I'll be getting out of your hair now.'

Was that right? Did that sound normal?

'Shall I be seeing you in town, Mr. Hackett?' She replied, and Sander could practically feel the unspoken question:"or are you skipping town?"

'Yes. I know I'm new and all, but I'll be staying for a while,' He said, possibly leaving more unspoken in that one sentence than he had at any other time in his entire life. It struck him then that if any fragment of his past came to light here, he would find himself in a highly precarious situation.

Sharon eyed him with not undue suspicion. Sander had no doubt that he would be in a world of trouble if she ever found out what he had done with her niece so far, let alone what he would probably be doing with her in future. His one advantage here was that he didn't look thirty-six; extensive genetic manipulation, not to mention the biomechanical repairs done to his arm, leg and eye, had left him with a body in its mid twenties. Sander had no doubt that looking his age while hanging out with the eighteen year old Amy would have been looked immensely suspicious. At least he didn't look too odd, doing that as he was.

The problem was, Sander had never been anything but odd before...

'Your niece is a nice one,' He offered, if just to break the silence. Part of him winced to mention Amy; even leaving aside his throbbing, enforced lust for the redhead, bringing the conversation back to her probably wasn't a good idea, 'She was very helpful. Anyway, I've taken up enough of your time. See you around.'

He excused himself with the politest nod he could produce, before Sharon picked up the thread of the conversation again. Avoiding her just seemed natural; Sander could hardly muster the energy to care about her, even in the slightest. Leadworth was such an impermanent thing to him, condemned to erode and crumble in the winds of history, making Amy, Rory and Mels simply ghosts in time, images, potentials of the people he would come to know. What would be the point of becoming invested? 

He was as much a phantom to them as they were to him. Twenty-first century history had no place in it for the name Sander Hackett.




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 05



And so he shrugged off his thoughts of the older woman as he closed her door behind him, slipping out into the street and away from the windows where she was no doubt keeping an eye on him. He waited until he was outside of any possible range of vision she might have before he turned back toward the house. It had been years since he had had to hop a fence. 

Amy's backyard was... haunting, in a way that few locations could be, to a man like Sander Hackett. This, more than any other place, was the crucible of Amy's development as a person, the site of the moment that would go on to define her life, and her death. This was the place where the last Time Lord had carelessly crashed his timeship, and begun the process of tearing a young woman's life to shreds, piece by piece. 

First her childhood, then her adulthood...

A stray thought caught hold in his mind, sticking long enough to be filed away. He had never considered it seriously, but the Doctor meeting Amy had far more to do with his tenth incarnation than it did his eleventh. After all, it had been Ten's interminable death throes and self pity that had damaged the TARDIS to the extent that it had required a crash landing in the first place. If the man had been able to accept regeneration with any kind of grace or self awareness, the Ponds would never have needed to replace their shed, and little Amelia might have been able to have a normal life. Melody might have had parents, she might have been human, rather than the grotesque assassin-paramour that had risen up in the wake of the Time Lord's meddling.

Come to think of it, most of Sander's grievances with the Doctor tended to originate with his tenth regeneration...

Fortunately, present concerns stopped him from dwelling too much on that line of reasoning; all too soon, that welcome mat of a garden lattice rose up in front of him, and he grinned. He felt firmly stuck in his teenage years now, clambering in and out of his bedroom window- after disabling his house's security systems, naturally- with practiced ease, all to spend nights out with his brother, or his sisters, or... Elsa...

Damn, he'd gone and made himself depressed again...

Though he was certainly less than completely physically active in his day to day life, he made sure to get enough exercise to keep nominally fit. He scaled the wall with ease, finding the window not only unlocked, but open. It led inside to the end of the upstairs hallway, and from a door just to the left of him Sander could hear the sound of running water. He grinned; it turns out Amy was still credulous enough to trust the likes of him.

Taking care to keep his footsteps light and undetectable from below, Sander crept to the door and, after debating whether or not to knock, opted to simply open the door. She knew he was coming, anyway. Even so, she started nervously as he slipped into the room, and it wasn't hard to see why; her appearance made the blood sing in his veins. He felt himself freeze, stock still, but it was hard to tell; he couldn't really feel his legs in that moment.

The light from the window caressed her form, pale skin from head to toe. Amy's curves almost glittered, radiant under the water. She was naked, of course she was, that's what people did when they took a shower, but seeing it was a completely different matter. Sander watched an individual droplet of water become the luckiest water drop on the planet, rolling between Amy's breasts and down her belly, ending its journey between her legs, in the light dappling of red hair that lay there. Sander's mind presented him with an exceedingly vivid image of his mouth following the same path. He twitched.

But as he watched her, Amy watched him in equal measure. And despite the thrumming, impossible to ignore heat that filled the two of them, she couldn't help the paroxysm of embarrassment that swept through her. Her arms moved automatically, sliding protectively over her chest and the apex of her thighs, cheeks blooming red. Sander almost laughed, before he remembered himself and stifled it, grinning broadly... for a moment, anyway. Before her inhibitions stopped being funny and started being sexy.

She stayed under the water, as if it would protect her. Sander knew better; it would do so for only as long as it took him to remove his clothes. If he even got that far; he was already moving forward before his shirt had hit the ground. His pants only barely made it to the floor just shy of getting wet. Amy blushed furiously.

Sander realized that this was the first time she had seen him naked; even during their nominal first time in this reality he had never fully stripped down. In fact, given she was still so young and in this kind of a town... it was possible she'd simply never been in a situation like this with any guy. Furtive, fumbling sex in the dark hardly counted, but this? This was confronting. He was right. There.

And he wanted her.

He stepped under the water, bare feet tapping wetly on the dark red tiles below. One hand reached out behind him almost automatically and slid the shower curtain closed behind them, enclosing the two of them in their own private world. Below his feet, Sander could almost feel Sharon moving about, but as long as they remembered to be stealthy... she would be none the wiser. 

Amy had stepped back at his approach, still covering herself out of a misplaced sense of modesty, but Sander could see the way her fingers trembled, moved of their own accord. She might have been covering her breasts and pussy, but that wasn't all she was doing; her fingers down below made slow, circuitous motions between her legs that were definitely not related to covering herself. 

There is always a time when one must simply surrender to the moment. Personally, Sander hated the idea of being manipulated, and found himself vaguely offended that this moment was overshadowed by an alien being reaching into his mind and robbing him of any true agency in this. He would be in this shower with Amelia Pond until both were satisfied, and that was a fact, now. He had no say in it.

Sander disliked not being in control.

But, though he couldn't control the ultimate outcome of this situation, he could certainly control the events within it; his cock throbbed, desperate to bury itself as deeply inside Amy as it possibly could, but Sander was more self-possessed than to allow it outright. He gripped Amy's hips, kept her back pressed against the tiles, taking a moment to marvel at the play of water over her luscious curves, before shooting her a smoldering look. Seconds later, he was lowering himself to his knees and pulling her hand away from her pussy.

Amy blushed furiously, as Sander pried her thighs apart, exposing her pink and swollen lips more completely to his sight. With her fit of modesty now dismantled, Amy offered herself to him, craning her hips away from the wall, desperate for anything he could give her. When he blew a gentle stream of breath across the sodden lips of her pussy, she gasped, fingers running through his increasingly wet hair. Obligingly, Sander gave her what she wanted, leaning in and running his tongue across the aching dampness between her legs. 

Without allowing himself to go much deeper, the taste of Amy's pussy was watered down, reduced to the saltiness of her skin and the vague suggestion of the water cascading down from above. But the effect on the redhead was almost immediate; she moaned, altogether too loudly, as her hips rolled into his mouth, taking in as much of Sander's long, languorous licking as she could. Her tall form quaked as the tip of Sander's tongue circled her clit, feeling it swell against him. And she kept moaning...

'Amy,' Sander interjected softly, sitting back on his haunches and looking up at her. 'Quiet. Unless you want to be interrupted. Unless you want me to have to stop...'

'No...God no...' Amy whimpered, squirming, smooth skin against cold tiles. Each individual droplet of water gliding down her body caught the sunlight in its own unique way, dripping down cheeks that glistened crimson, cresting breasts that rose and fell with each panting breath she took, eventually joining with Sander at every point of contact between his body and hers. It made her form seem alive in ways that extended beyond the literal, hungry and wanting and sexual, the kind of thing that only glimmered beneath the surface of Amy Pond under normal circumstances. She was beautiful, and raw, and honest, like she so rarely had an opportunity to be.

'Anyone ever done this to you before?' Sander murmured, stopping only to brush his lips gently across Amy's, making her shiver.

'Never,' She answered quickly, and he rewarded her by dragging the flat of his tongue across her swollen clit, taking whole seconds just to listen to her breath catch in her throat. Her response hardly surprised him; she was just eighteen, after all. The boys she knew, the ones of the appropriate age at least, would be far more concerned with penetration than with treating her right. But Sander was experienced, not just in general but with her specifically. He knew exactly what to do.

And she became lost to it. Her body flooded with hormones, compelled with alien accuracy into a fugue of arousal that was near impossible to escape. Sander was too, and only his stubborn personality kept him from standing up and putting himself in a far more interesting position. It was all either of them could do to remember the situation they were in, to keep quiet despite their bodies screaming out for noise, and heat, and movement. 

Here he was, dropped out of his own time and into an aborted universe careening inexorably into Silence, and the first thing he does is fuck a future model...

Well...

Amy's fingers wound through his damp hair, pulling him closer, almost pleading for his tongue to continue its work. Sander was happy to oblige; he pressed his mouth deeper, craning his neck to allow his teeth to play over Amy's swollen lips, tongue sliding between them to taste her. Her thighs shook, as she felt the slick, textured pressure of a tongue inside her for the first time.

Much as she was personally enjoying the attention, Amy couldn't help the nagging feeling of powerlessness; just how much of this was genuinely her, and how much was... well, the alien? Her body felt like an unknown, acting in odd ways she couldn't quite control. It was like driving a car with the wheels out of alignment; the basics were still there, but everything was swerving in ways she didn't want it to.

And so she did the only thing she could do, other than writhe against the slowly heating tiles behind her and hoping she wouldn't pull a muscle with the force of her tensing thighs: she talked. It was something she was good at, at least.

'I- Mmm! I still have q-questions...' She found herself whimpering, unable to keep her voice steady with Sander's lips sucking at her clit.

'Do you now?' Sander's voice seemed at least outwardly composed, but Amy could definitely detect a hoarseness that hadn't been there earlier. Still, he spoke without pulling away, hot breath caressing her stickiness, making her quiver.

'Of course!' Amy succeeded at keeping her voice mostly steady that time, though she lapsed into a moan at the end, as his tongue slipped between her lips and inside her. 'Why wouldn't I?'

His eyes flicked up at her, leveling an intensely wanting gaze up her body, seeming to regard every inch of her nakedness in turn, before reaching her eyes. He exhaled forcefully, sending another stream of warm air singing over Amy's sensitive skin. She closed her eyes, losing herself to it for a moment, and all of a sudden Sander rose.

He knew that if he really wanted to, he could get her to drop this line of questioning with just a little bit of persistence; after all, neither of them were in their right mind. It would be a simple thing, but why bother? The questions were going to come anyway, some easy, some hard, and like it or not he was going to have to supply some answers. Why not do it now, while she was malleable and locked in a more submissive mindset?

So he rose, trailing stimulating licks and bites up her belly, across her breasts and up her collarbone. As he reached her neck he had a moment of strangeness, encountering her without her Command Collar, but it quickly passed. When he looked her in the eyes, he had to remind himself that they were doing so as equals. To some degree.

'Alright. Questions,' One hand pushed her back harder against the tiles, the other gripped her leg, slipped into the crook of her knee and lifted, so she wrapped her calf around him. He was intent, and aroused, and dangerously close to being inside her, 'So let's play a game...'

The hand at her chest slid lower, taking time to explore her curves before it reached its destination, lining himself up with her pussy. His hips moved, the tip of his cock piercing her outer folds, shower water running over the join between them. Amy gasped, and Sander had to physically restrain her from pressing the two of them together.

'We still need to avoid attracting attention, Amy,' He murmured, watching her chest rise and fall, breasts glistening wonderfully. 'So I'm going to go slow, and you're going to bite your lip. If you can keep quiet while I fuck you, I'll answer your questions...'

He moved, and his progress was agonizingly slow. Amy clenched her jaw as the rest of her opened up to accept him, strangling the long and loud moan she wanted to make in its infancy. Sander was right about needing to be quiet, although that went against everything Amy's body wanted her to be doing right now. By the look in his eye, he wanted that too; if they had their way, their sex would echo throughout this house.

It struck Amy then that everything they had done, as... explosive as it had been, had been conducted under this same enforced silence. Leadworth pressed down on them both, and as a consequences they had to hide, and enjoy this less. A mental note got added to her desire-addled brain: find a way to circumvent that.

She only breathed out, exhaling an explosive, shaking breath, when he was completely inside her. The simple feeling of fullness drove her near mad with a desire to start moving, to fuck him back until his control broke and he nailed her until the tiles cracked beneath her. Water dripped between them, ticking her skin, mixing with the sticky wetness on her thighs, diluting it and sending it further down. Amy shook, wondering what was taking him so long.

'Well?' His voice was rough, barely in control. He licked his lips, and Amy had a sudden flashback of where those lips and that tongue had been a few minutes ago. 

God damn, why wasn't he doing anything?

'H-how did you get here?' It took Amy a moment or two to even formulate a question, with her body going into meltdown. When she did, it wasn't the most pertinent of questions, but it had been on her mind; how does one get stranded back in time, without a time machine?

'I got hit with a backfire from a malfunctioning time machine,' He grunted, and it wasn't technically a lie. Certainly, he could rely on Amy not to have a follow up question about what kind of time machine. Especially now, when... well...

A tremor rippled through her body as he withdrew, breath coming in pants, low and desperate to keep quiet. In truth, Sander didn't know how long he would be able to maintain control of himself; she was so beautiful like this, alluring and wet and... damn, this was turning out to be harder than he thought.

'Another one,' He felt his voice shake with the effort of not... well, using her. His mind supplied the kinds of images he would have reveled in, had stealth not been a major concern. He had so much to draw on; he knew what she looked like in a collar, knew what she looked like in climax, in tears, in both at the same time...

Everything the alien wanted...

It had to be matching his desires with hers, surely... these things, these parasites, they prized being hidden above all else. They worked with subtlety, taking the things their hosts desired and amplifying them; to anyone watching, the host's behavior didn't change, it just became more persistent. 

And Sander knew what Amy desired, even if she wasn't willing to admit it...

He wanted it too, but then, he always had. Meeting Mara had opened him up to the dark, violent kind of sex that was addictive in ways a drug could only aspire to. He had an animal inside him that was all the more vicious for the introspection that had caused him to acknowledge it was there. Sander Hackett was fully involved with his desires, and as a result they became weapons for him, rather than controlling him.

Except now...

God, if he just had the chance, he would introduce Amy to that world years before Trismestigius...

'Ask me something!' He growled, holding himself back from the precipice of plunging into her so that she could. But he was impatient, and she wasn't being fast enough.

'I... I can't think-' Amy almost sobbed, desperation edging her words. Her entire being was wrapped up in the idea of sating her desire, right now. It was impossible to think; the doubts that had been so present in her mind not so long ago had evaporated, and been replaced with thoughts of his teeth on her skin, and his cock in her, fucking her so hard he left bruises, so that she came so powerfully it ached...

'Please,' Was all she could get out, the words turning incoherent in her mouth as Sander slid forward again, filling her up. In that moment his cock, enthroned as it was in her pulsing and wet pussy, was the center of her world. She angled her hips just right, getting all of him that she could inside of her. Her clit throbbed.

'Please what, Amy?' Those intense blue eyes locked onto hers, his expression angry and shameless and powerful. Images, fantasies pooled in his mind, blurring, so fast as to stop him alighting on any one of them for very long. All of them contained Amy, and collars, and chains. Leashes and fucking. Begging and sobbing and moaning and the kinds of orgasm you really had to work for...

'You bite psychiatrists but you just spread your legs and whimper for me,' He continued, his voice a low growl that almost made her flinch. Amy had heard that tone before, from men with minds enflamed by too much drink and the allure of her kissongram's costumes. It was the tone that made a girl run, stick with her friends until it was safe to leave and then castigate herself later for even considering what that tone might have entailed if she had let herself fall victim to it. 

It was the tone of voice that promised the things Amy would get off on later, secretly in her bed, with shame coloring her cheeks and the expectations of Leadworth morality ringing in her ears. 

'You take to this too well, Pond...' He kissed her, hard. Hard enough that her head hit the wall behind her, and the taste of him lingered on her tongue for several moments afterward. Hard, in just the way she'd always wanted it, 'You want it. You love it. But Leadworth doesn't exactly have the kind of man who could satisfy you, hmm?'

'Not even a little,' She answered, savagely. In a way, Amy was surprised she had even been able to form the words, what with every juddering thought she had being consumed by sex impulses she only barely understood. Sander's fingers were so tight against her collarbone, pressing in painfully, in ways that matched her most secretive desires so perfectly. Fear and arousal intertwined, everything in her wanted to give in to it.

'So please what, Pond?' He didn't have a blue box, but right now Sander was standing at the edge of a brand new world, beckoning for Amy to follow him. The advantage he had was that, unlike the last alien stranger she had met, he had come back...




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 05



'Please, fuck me, Sander...' She tried not to sound too desperate, but a little submissive twinge rippled through her, reminded her how close she was to getting her filthy little self off the way she'd always wanted... 'I'm begging you...'

All of a sudden, his hand was at her throat, just like last time, keeping her head pinned to the wall. He leaned forward, chest pressed against her; his skin was hot and wet and fuck was it ever sexy and he was whispering in her ear...

The words made her heart almost stop.

'Say the word. Say it right,' It was a command, not a statement, and it ran down Amy's spine in a shiver. 'Even if it's just a game for now, go nuts. Show me what you're really made of.'

'Master...' Voice so low, the word almost nonexistent... but it was out there now. 'Please...'

Something very important snapped, in both of them. 

'That's my girl...' He sported a sharp edged grin as he began to move, placing one hand over her mouth as he did so. 'Quiet now... That's an order.'

The tenor of the scene had changed, Amy could feel it in her bones. She wasn't entirely sure she liked it, but the thrill of fear, and anticipation and nerve shredding pleasure was addictive. She was lower now, overpowered, open and letting him dictate the pace of things to come; so far, he hadn't disappointed. He moved like he had been born to this, restraining her, gagging her with one hand as the other pinioned her wrists above her head, eyes burning into hers. Just from looking at him, she knew that daring to remove her leg from its position wrapped around him, to deny him access to her, would be a terrible idea. 

But she couldn't keep herself from moaning into his hand, as he fucked her. Every thrust built up the pressure inside her, made her body sing with pleasure. So long as he kept doing that to her, she was his, in every conceivable way. Nothing else mattered; the world beyond simply faded away. This was different from what the Doctor had promised her. It was far more immediate; the Doctor had promised her the stars, but Sander promised to make her see stars...

And he was here, actually doing it.

When she looked down, she could see his muscles, taut and predatory, seeming so strong as he worked within her. She looked down further, saw between her legs for the first time, saw just how fast and hard he was spearing into her, how vulnerable she looked like that. Another pounding thrust, another jolt of pure, uncut pleasure right to her clit. 

She had called him Master. Why had she done that? He hadn't even asked, she had just... wanted to. Because a Master was more likely to hold her down and do this to her, without asking. Sander was no polite Leadworth boy, that was for sure.

She wanted more... How could she want more? The pleasure coursing through her might well be a poison; one of those strange neurotoxins where you die laughing... but she was hooked. It was too much, too good. So fucking good. 

Ah, to hell with it. Following the Leadworth playbook hadn't done her any good so far, maybe it was time for a little toxicity...

Amy Pond gave in.

And she came.

'M-master!' She gasped, as his hand slipped from her mouth to steady her against him, and she came. Came to pieces, came biting down on her screams. Hot, sticky arousal gushed out over him, only to mix with the warm water that was still burning countless wiry lines down her overly sensitized skin. Her legs shook, gave out... And her Master supported her.

No longer a little girl waiting in the garden for some stranger in a blue box... now a woman, falling and being caught...

They slid down the wall together, as orgasm echoed through her in waves, the crescendo of his masterpiece, reverberating through her hips like the strains of a violin fill up a concert hall. He was kissing her, swallowing her moans, tasting her orgasm through her skin, and contributing his own. Unprotected, he came inside her, the first man to do so, the heat of it sending aftershocks of pleasure arcing up and down her spin. Nothing should feel like this...

The shower was still on, water cascading over them, as they gradually came apart. Sander softened, slipped out of her, his cum leaking out in droplets after him. She twitched as he did so, lips still laid against hers, the kiss deep and invasive and... just right. Amy barely even registered when he reached up and turned one of the taps. At least, until the water changed, suddenly becoming cold. She squeaked.

Of course, she knew why he had done it almost as quickly; the chill was a shock to their lust-fogged minds. The parasite's effects receded much faster under the cold water than it had previously, and for that Amy was eternally grateful. It let her take stock of what had just happened much faster. 

How had this man just walked into her life and, in the course of mere hours, knocked down all the walls Amy had built up around herself? How had he found, and made her act upon, these desires so quickly? At all? 

She had pretty much resigned herself to living disappointed with her sex life; better that than giving in and being hurt. Than losing her soul to it...

Right?

'You have one more question,' Sander reminded her, standing and stepping out of the shower. Amy was grateful for the distance, frankly; it was much easier to think like this, although she did find the play of wetness over his chest to be oddly entrancing. He looked down at her, his smile hinting at so much, 'Make it a good one.'

He knew her in the future, and he could do that to her so easily... There was only one question she could possibly ask. She stood too, noting with no small measure of satisfaction that his eyes dropped to her body too, 'In the future, do you... do that to me, too? Is that how you know me?'

'Right question!' He grinned, taking a towel from the rack and holding it out for her. 'And the answer is yes.'

'I don't know how I feel about that.'

'Yeah you do. Nobody cums like that without liking it,' He seemed so confident of that fact. 'I know this place is kind of old fashioned, but there's nothing wrong with that.'

'Okay...' Amy sighed, turning off the flow of water and taking the proffered towel. 'Fine. Yes.'

'That's the spirit,' Sander said, smiling.

'Bet you can't tell me anything more about us, though,' She shot back, more than a little miffed about that. It was like the man was teasing her; setting her up for some big new info, only to pull back before telling her anything useful. Why bait her like that?

'That's about right,' He nodded. 

Amy frowned. The idea of her future self was an interesting one just on its own, but a future-Amy who was with a man like Sander? Very much something she wanted to hear more about.

But more than that, she hated the idea that another alien stranger was keeping things from her. Her experiences of the last half hour confirmed his story at least; he was telling the truth, just admittedly not the whole truth. If she wanted to know the whole story, well...

She would have to stick around him.

'Can you blame me for being curious, though?' She asked and, having just recovered enough to regain her modesty, covered herself with her towel. Sander didn't seem to have any such body issues, standing- rather gloriously, she had to admit- naked without minding terribly. He did, however, notice that she was watching him intently. He grinned. 

'Oh no, I'd say given what I just did to you curiosity would be the least of it,' He said. 'But foreknowledge is a dangerous thing, Amy. I can't give you specifics. But if you want to know what it was... will be like, then get dressed and come out with me.'

'What?' Amy went for her clothes, discarded carelessly in the corner. 'Like a date?'

'No, I don't do those,' Sander narrowed his eyes and stared off into the middle distance for a while. 'Why schedule time for stuff like that? Why not just live life that way? No, I think you should suit up and meet me outside. Time to introduce myself to the neighbors.'

'Why does that sound somewhat ominous to me?' Amy deadpanned, a strange feat to pull off while naked. 'Just what do you intend to do?'

'Make some noise,' He shrugged. 'I figure I've changed history enough already, so... let's just go whole hog.'

Amy stared at him, to no avail; with their sexual dalliance over, her ability to read him had spontaneously vanished. Who knew what "making some noise" meant to the future-boy? His game was unclear, but Amy was certain of one thing: she wanted in. Meeting him had stoked a fire that Leadworth had spent years trying to snuff out, something Amy had thought only the Doctor could make burn like this. For once, she could be alive the way she truly wanted to be, and be assured that someone would accept her.

... That, and he could make her tremble like nobody else. She nodded. He grinned.

'Now, if you'll excuse me,' He said, pulling on his shirt. 'I shall let myself out via the window. Come along, Pond.'

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

On the other side of Leadworth, Gwen Cooper stared at a door, poised to knock but never quite making it. Once more, her hand makes the circuit, rising to rap her knuckles against the faded varnish of the wood, before falling limply to her side yet again. A few times, she had gone to walk away, before turning back without even reaching the end of the hallway. 

The trouble was, this was something she needed to tell him. The scanner doesn't lie, or at least it never had before, and she was supposed to be a professional. Gwen Cooper, Torchwood agent. Not some blushing kid, hiding from her parents.

... Maybe she could just... selectively edit her story...

In the end, it all came down to a question of how long she wanted to spend in this dead end town; how many nights would she be willing to spend in this Hitchcock-style motel, away from Rhys?

She flinched away from that thought; at times it seemed like Torchwood as an organization was just an enormous infidelity machine. Gwen was still banking on the idea that everything she had experienced was just one big hallucination brought on by the alien presence that had certainly been there. The scanner didn't lie, but maybe, just maybe, her senses had.

After all, when she had regained consciousness, the redheaded girl had been gone...

At the very least, Gwen knew for a fact that what she had experienced hadn't come from herself. It had been a fit of madness, or... anything other than her own will; she knew what it felt like to be manipulated from outside. There was a kind of flowing, helpless tide to it, that pulled you along inexorably. It felt like drowning in sex, in a way. 

She had to do it; she had to tell Jack. What had happened to her was some grade-A, legitimate alien weirdness. It had to be, because the alternative was...

'Goddamn it...' She muttered, forcing herself to knock before she backed off again. Placing her feet firmly on the ground before the door, Gwen resolved herself to stay put. Something moved on the other side, sounds playing out in odd ways just beyond the thin plywood; she wondered what it could be that Jack was doing in there, before deciding that she probably didn't want to know. Some things were better kept secret.

'Gwen?' The door swung open, Jack evidently having decided that nothing in this town could possibly be a threat, despite their mission. The hour was late and yet he was still dressed, still sporting his trademark coat, even. Not for the first time, Gwen wondered exactly how different from normal people something like Jack could be; did he even need to sleep?

Taking a deep breath, she spoke, 'I might have found something that could help us.'

To be continued...



Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 06



 Author's Note: This series builds off of elements of the previous Panic Moon series. To get the full experience, it is recommended, though not necessary, to read that one first.

Okay! Whew. After a stint of health troubles, I am back, back home, back writing... back! This is the first thing I've got for you, but it's not the only thing: now that I'm- as far as I can see- in the clear, you'll be getting works from me with far more regularity than before. I've learned not to give firm dates, as life tends to conspire to put a stop to those one way or another, but I'm now in a much better place to be producing things. Please, do keep an eye on my profile for news there; I had some plans in the making before my life got derailed that I can get back to work on now, which I'm sure you'll enjoy.

Have fun, folks,

Kurokami

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

Sander usually enjoyed journeys; going somewhere meant that, eventually, you would arrive. There were possibilities there, things one could do. 

Except Sander was heading into the center of Leadworth. There was something depressing about that.

He did have Amy beside him, that provided him some hope for the immediate future. Here, she was a destabilizing element, a fissure in the otherwise featureless normalcy of the little village. The one thing that would break out of the strictures this place wrapped around every person here. 

It struck Sander quite suddenly that that might include him, now. 

'So you spend the last day or so telling me about how you shouldn't do anything to disrupt events here, and now you want to go out?' Amy prodded him with her elbow, looking at him out the corner of her eye. Outside and fulfilled after their dalliance in the shower, she was back to her old confident self. They had finally reached an agreement and with it, equilibrium. The uncertainty remained, but at least they had a goal now. She believed him, that was the important thing; he wouldn't be needing to kidnap her this time. That was a relief.

'Well, yeah,' He said, taking a deep breath of the fresh country air. 'Nothing's going to change if I just hide myself away. It's time to make a little noise, I figure. If it puts me into established events, that just means I'll be easier to find by those who are looking. Besides, it's not like I need to worry about altering history any more, now is it?'

'You're the expert here, not me,' She shrugged. 'You're just lucky I don't have to work tonight.'

'Yeah, I do not want to have to go out here alone,' Sander said, noting as he did so how sad it was that, to him, Earth was just as alien as any other world. More so, in fact; in his day, technology could be reasonably expected to pass across cultures with ease, but here, there was nothing but isolation. Oh, there were certainly pockets of alien technology that had landed on this world over the years, only to be snatched up by UNIT or Torchwood, or any of the other myriad agencies that concerned themselves with such things, but it wasn't the same. 

He knew next to nothing about how his own species' home planet operated. For all that he was back home, here he was useless.

'You understand this means I'll have to introduce you to my friends, right?' Amy said, and in doing so dragged Sander back down into the more mundane events of the present. 'They'd find me out and about anyway, so we should just get it over soon. Do you need, I don't know, a cover story or something?'

Sander blinked, 'I can't just remain a mystery?'

'Not here you can't. People talk. Imagine what that'd look like, Sander.'

'Yeah okay, fair enough,' He paused here, unwilling to display his own ignorance of the way of things, even when it was necessary. In the end, he supposed he would need to trust Amy at least as much as she was trusting him, 'You wouldn't... happen to have something in mind, would you?'

Amy stopped, looking him over. She remained in quiet contemplation for a moment, before shrugging, 'Backpacker.' She moved on.

'I'm going to need more than that!' He called after her. 'Come on, I'm useless at this!'

'You're a traveler!' She walked backwards, feet tracing confident paths on the ground. 'That's not really a lie, is it? You're looking for a place to settle down here in Leadworth for a while for... I dunno, artistic inspiration. Say you're a writer or something, here for the peace and quiet. Believe me, there's lots of peace and quiet.'

'Yeah, but that still presupposes I can find a place to settle down,' Sander insisted. Theoretically he knew he had that little secret room at the back of Amy's house, but he didn't want to have to live there unless he was forced to. Prisoner Zero could very easily go back on its word, and Sander didn't want to be easy to find if it did. Besides, that place was creepy as hell.

'Aunt Sharon's renting out a couple of our spare rooms, why not try that?' Amy said. 'I mean, if you're going to need to be close to me, why not? We've got so many rooms just staying empty, she can hardly say no.'

'I don't think she likes me so much,' Sander said. 

'She thinks you're trying to do untoward things with her niece, is why,' Amy couldn't help the goofy grin that spread across her face at that. She blushed, 'And you are, but she doesn't have to know that. Be on your best behavior in front of her, prove her wrong. I'm sure that won't be too hard for you, will it?'

'How come you have this better thought out than I do?' Sander frowned.

'I live here,' Amy shrugged. 'Trust me, you either learn to think really fast, or really slowly. Either way passes the time.'

They walked in silence for a little while, as Sander mulled over his options. Amy had presented him with a perfectly good plan, certainly better than anything he had thought of so far, and denying her now seemed like a bad move. Whatever else she intended from all this, just volunteering the information she had so far was a great gesture of trust; if he didn't accept it, what kind of message would he be sending?

'... Okay,' He said finally. 'Let's go with that.'

'I knew you'd see it my way,' She said, as they reached the edge of the town itself. Leadworth sprawled out in front of them, but not in the sense of being expansive. In the sense of being lazy. The little village seemed to drape itself over the landscape like a teenager on a couch. Sander caught himself eyeing the duck pond and thinking that the ducks had gotten the right idea by leaving.

Rory and Mels were waiting for them- for Amy, really- at the end of the road, and by the looks of it Mels had been harrying Rory about one thing or another. But then, this iteration of Rory, young Rory, had a sort of aura of being perpetually put upon, anyway. Like he was used to being background noise in his own life. He was the human avatar of Leadworth.

He frowned when he caught sight of Sander following along in Amy's wake. Sander locked eyes with him for a long moment, allowing a confident little smile to grow on his face before, in a moment of pure, dripping arrogance, he turned his eyes away, ignoring the younger man. What reason was there to do otherwise? Rory was no threat, and besides, Mels' reaction would be far more interesting, given what they had done earlier.

Sander didn't think that River's previous regeneration would tell Amy what had happened; she was too proud for that, and beyond it all, no matter how the girl acted normally, Amy was still her mother. No matter what the half-breed had been raised to believe, there would still be a cringe at that.

She did, however, shoot Sander a wink when Amy wasn't watching. Rory might have been, but that didn't matter. Sander found himself intrigued; there was no embarrassment there, no sense that she at all regretted the peek into her innermost desires he had been given earlier. Some lascivious part of him wondered whether he might be able to talk himself back into her pants, assuming he could do it in such a way that Amy never found out. Certainly if he had to choose then Amy won out, but there was an evil and bewitching allure to seducing the Doctor's wife away from him, over and over. 

Sander quite liked the idea that he could look the Doctor in the eye and smirk, ensconced in that knowledge.

'You brought the drifter!' Mels grinned from ear to ear, apparently delighted at this turn of events. Of course, she was the member of the group most likely to take as many interesting things as possible and smash them together just to see what fun resulted, so having a mystery man involved in the night's proceedings would be very much approved of. 

'Drifter?' Rory looked askance, very blatantly questioning Amy's judgment. Before he could react further, Sander stepped up, taking the reins of the conversation. He'd always been good at this; one didn't become adept at business without learning how to manipulate social structures.

'They found me sleeping under a tree,' He broke out the Assertive Handshake, leading through the gesture from start to finish; his hand dipped, gripping Rory's before he even knows what's happening, bringing it up into the open, giving the younger man a shot of deeply confident eye contact once he looked up from the greeting itself. Sander wondered whether the young mister Williams even understood what was happening, 'Hi, I'm Sander Hackett. And you must be Rory P- Williams.'

He tried to stop himself from frowning, at that hitch in the linguistic centers of his brain. He had almost said Rory Pond. Bad. Amy and Rory would undoubtedly take it as a simple slip of the tongue, but would Mels? At the very least it would put her on alert; she was a deep cover agent here, after all. Suspicion was in her nature. In quick succession his mind cycled through all the amazingly violent things he had watched the various incarnations of Melody Pond perpetrate, coupled with his inability to forget that Mels was probably the most unhinged of her regenerations; in a moment, he resolved to be much, much more careful.

'Yes, that's... me,' Rory paused, unsure of where to go next. Sander had to physically restrain himself from teasing the younger man further. It would have been so, so easy to do; after all, Amy was still under the impression that Rory was gay. He could have brought it up, made the poor little man blush and stammer and all those other things a lifetime in Leadworth had made him so good at...

But then, Sander's analytical mind had already leaped ahead, following the chain of causality back to the root; if Amy's misconception about Rory's sexuality was cleared up now, the two of them might start dating earlier. After all, that was the moment all that had started; kickstarting the Pond's relationship would throw the schedule off, perhaps they would end up marrying earlier, which would do some interesting things to their time with the Doctor, in the end. 

'I asked Amy if I could tag along with her, since I'm kind of new in town,' Sander opted to simply move the conversation along, but couldn't help himself from adding just one more quip. 'I'm renting a room from her aunt.'

He observed the slight downturn of Rory's mouth with no small amount of troublemaking glee, as the four of them took to walking down into the town. As they did so, Sander stuck as close to Amy as he could, partially as an additional irritant for Rory, but mostly because he had no idea what a normal person did, least of all during this version of the present day.

'So, what's the plan?' He gave in to his natural curiosity in the end, and broke the silence.

'To begin with?' Mels shot him a lopsided grin. 'Pub. We shall see where the night goes from there.'

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

The whole planet was like this all of the time, he soon realized. Nobody was in space at this moment in time; every last human being was here, landlocked and trapped, Earth's gravity acting like a smothering hug. The entirety of the human race was down here, sitting in pubs or in office cubicles or traffic, living normal twenty first century lives, with no idea of the swarming, warring, living universe just beyond the reaches of their atmosphere. 

The thought was somehow distressing, and the notion that, somewhere out there, there was a man or a woman named Hackett living exactly the same kind of life, carrying his life's potential locked up in those painfully normal genes, only intensifying the feeling. 

No wonder they all seemed to drink so much...

'This can not be all there is in Leadworth,' Sander deadpanned, leaning back on his chair. Suddenly, Melody's penchant for creating her own fun made a lot more sense.

'I dunno, I've never been short of something to do,' Mels grinned, winking suggestively. For a moment, the notion of tempting her into an extended crime spree sounded almost attractive, in a Bonnie and Clyde kind of way, but in time Sander thought better of it. By the look of things so did Amy, given the black look she shot her erstwhile daughter.

'Could we skip that part tonight, Mels?' She said. 'I still remember the last time. I still have bruises from the last time.'

'Hey, I could handle a little doing,' Sander couldn't help but stir the pot a little, but more realistically, his cover depended on not displaying his foreknowledge of these people too overtly; a normal newcomer wouldn't be aware of Mels' penchant for destruction, after all.

'Not her kind of doing,' Amy nudged him, speaking under the low drone of the background noise.

'Your kind of doing, then?' Sander murmured back, cocking an eyebrow. He grinned, as Amy blushed in return. This was tempting fate and he knew it, but he couldn't help it; their time together earlier was still fresh in his mind. He wondered whether she felt the same skittering pulse of arousal, whether it was something they shared, perhaps even a product of the parasite within her.

Best to tread carefully around that, what with Rory here, and the overwhelmingly human presence around them. Who knew what kind of trouble that alien could get Amy into if it kept filling her with impulses she couldn't control, out in public? Suddenly, this day became very dangerous.

'Are you going to be okay?' He added quietly, feeling oddly protective of his charge. He supposed there might be some purely pragmatic reasons involved; Amy was his entire hope for getting home at the moment, after all, but they were hardly the only reasons. 

'Honestly? Bit dicey,' Amy bit her lip for a moment, shooting a momentary- but undeniably hungry- glance at Rory. Not good; of all the people in Amy's life that she could end up seducing on behalf of her alien passenger, Rory was by far the worst, from a purely temporal standpoint. Of course, he was also one of her closest friends, bound to spend an inordinate amount of time with her, and crushing on her hardcore besides. There needed to be a tighter leash on Amy's proclivities, here; allowing her to get biblical with Rory would be entirely too troublesome to clean up.

After all, if Amy and Rory hooked up early it could have untold effects on their timelines, even up to the point of their second meeting with the Doctor; what would happen to Sander then? No Amy in the TARDIS meant no Amy at Trismestigius, after all; no Amy at Trismestigius meant Sander would never have made it here, either. Who knew where he would end up?

And that was even discounting the presence of Mels... though of course, that was a teachable moment in and of itself; narrowing down the species of alien Amy was hosting was an important part of the process of ridding her of it, and part of that was determining the nature of the attractions it evoked. Even with all the extenuating circumstances, Mels was still Amy's daughter, and the more discerning of alien brain worms would avoid untoward behavior with family, if just to avoid attracting attention. It was at least a little clue.

For the rest of the night, Sander found himself watching Amy, observing the slow ramp up of the hunger in her eyes, the subtle shifting, squirming of her hips, and the flush in her cheeks. He was perpetually on the edge of his seat, ready to intervene at a moment's notice to redirect any untoward intent on her part, even to bring it on himself if need be; it was an arduous sacrifice he was solemnly prepared to give in order to maintain some structure to the timeline.

In the meantime, life happened; it felt strange conversing with Rory in particular on relatively equal terms- after all, their first and only prior meeting had been nothing but confrontational- but this iteration of Rory was different enough from his eventuality as the Last Centurion to make the point almost moot. Nevertheless, the three of them had an ease of interaction and repartee forged from years of closeness, the kind of thing Sander could only replicate through his observations of their past; this was Amy in her natural habitat, shielded from the vagaries and low level hostility of Leadworth life. This place could be entirely unwelcoming for the young woman, but here, with Mels and Rory, her flights of fancy could take wing in relative safety, and the grounded English town couldn't even touch her.

The smile on her face made Sander feel a tad guilty over what would happen to her in the future.

When Rory flitted off, obviously reluctant but unable to stay out with his college courses looming in the morning, leaving Sander alone with a pair of young women, both of whom he had slept with in the last day. It wasn't a feeling he was unfamiliar with- after all, he had lived more than a few days on a moon with several captive girls- but this situation had a lack of surety to it; for the first time in a while, he was left with only his own charm and personality to make things happen. How interesting...

How they ended up in the field, Sander wasn't entirely sure; the fact was, they had, and for the first time he felt completely happy with being stuck on Earth. They lay side by side, grass rising up around them in chaotic stalks, swaying in the breeze in such a way as to occasionally occlude the stars twinkling above. The moon -Earth's moon- hung above, shadows eating into one side, creating its thick, crescent shape. 

They all loved those stars. The attraction was built in from birth; all three were born to step among them. Sander and Melody had been gifted with childhoods that presented such travel as fact, and yet it was Amy's hunger for flight that yearned the strongest. The Girl Who Waited had such conviction in this, forged from over a decade of keeping all of this close to her chest; resentment had only turned her need to be proven right into an incandescent flame. 

Amelia Pond had turned those stars into a point of pride.

And then, in time...

'Well, as relaxing as this has been, I think I'm going to toddle off,' Mels said, stretching languorously before bouncing to her feet with characteristic energy. 'Don't stay out too late, children.'

'She's going to end up arrested by the end of the night,' Amy waited until Mels was far enough away that she couldn't hear, before speaking, her tone flat and vaguely expectant. It was a prophecy borne of experience, and Amy's resigned voice, acknowledging her responsibility to dig Mels out of whatever trouble she ended up in the following morning, made Sander grin.

'Let her,' He said, shifting into a more comfortable position. 'It's a nice night out, let her enjoy it and find someone else to stump up bail money afterwards.'

'She'll call me for it, though.'

'And I guarantee you I'll make you hang up on her,' He shot Amy a sideways glance.

'Just how do you think you're going to get into my room to do that?'

'Look at recent history, Amy. You tell me,' Sander said. 'Besides, I've got nowhere to stay tonight, before I take a run at your aunt for that room tomorrow.'




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 06



'You know, the last time an alien dropped into my life, I didn't have to spend nearly as much time trying to keep him out of my pants,' Amy said.

'And failing,' Sander reminded her. 'I'm not the Doctor, anyway. I actually know you.'

'But I don't know you,' She replied.

'Yet. You don't know me yet,' Sander said, neglecting to mention the same would also be true of the Doctor. 'I guess we can consider this a head start. Assuming it doesn't tear open spacetime and murder us both.'

'Is that possible?' Amy's eyes widened.

'Pond, we live in a thriving multiverse of a billion billion parallel realities, each of them filled with time travelers zipping in and out of the past and future, each of those trips a potential causality rending accident waiting to happen,' Sander said, matter of factly. Amy stared for a moment, before he continued with a spooky expression, 'It's always possible.'

Amy stared upward as the seconds ticked by, contemplating that last thought with a sort of mounting dread, before she realized something, 'You called me Pond. He called me Pond.'

'I don't care about him,' Sander lied. 'I do care about you.'

'Why?' Amy sat up. 'Why hang around with me? Why not, I dunno, go find Stephen Hawking or CERN or something and figure out a way home?'

'Lots of reasons. Mostly... I like you,' Sander said. 'I know you. For better or worse, I know Leadworth. So... Just look at the stars, Amy.'

Rather than pursuing the topic further, she allowed herself to drop back onto her back. Above her was her favorite part of Leadworth; the night sky burning bright, close enough to reach out and touch, yet infinitely far away. She had had a taste of those stars once, so many years ago; now just looking up at them renewed her certainty in her Raggedy Doctor.

'You know,' Sander piped up eventually. 'Where I'm from, there's a big dome over the sky. You don't see the real stars all that often there, and even then... they aren't Earth stars. These are special.'

'Yeah...' Amy found herself agreeing instinctually, as the sentiment called to something deep and fundamental within her. Something planted there years ago by a man in a blue box opening a crack in her wall and letting in, for the briefest of moments, all the possibilities those stars could hold. Sometimes they frightened her, knowing as she did that creatures far beyond the scale of her knowledge lurked out there too, but other times...

At other times there were grinning aliens who ate fish fingers and custard.

'You see it too, don't you?' Sander was looking at her, she realized. 'It's not a dome.'

'What?' Amy could tell this was something with some importance, an expression of a thought the man had been kicking around for quite a while. 

'The sky. Most people look up at it and they see a fucking firmament,' Sander waved a hand vaguely at the stars. 'The stars are up there, but the sky is a wall, a dome sealing in the world. They're stuck! The sky is no business of theirs. When you look up there, what do you see?'

'The stars,' Amy nodded, intuitive understanding readily available.

'And they go all the way up,' He said, nodding too. 'We're not standing in the middle part of a giant sphere, we're standing on the crust of something spinning through space, constantly moving. There's nothing keeping us here. If you look up like that, it's dizzying.'

'I once saw a time-lapse video of the sky at night,' Amy concentrated on one particular patch of sky in particular, a set of twinkling constellations that seemed quite close, though rationally Amy knew each individual star would be many thousands of kilometers from any of the others at least. So long as she couldn't see the horizon, the edges of the "dome," the staggering reality of that depth was more readily apparent; if she really tried, Amy could trick herself into seeing the infinity that she was just a hair's breadth away from falling into, 'And spent the next few nights looking straight up. It was the first time I really felt it, but I always knew it was there.'

'Because of the Doctor?' Sander said. 'I get what you're saying, but travelling with him is a trick. When he goes to the stars, he's just visiting. I live there.'

'Hmm...' There was a sort of wandering lilt to Amy's voice, a dreamy quality that hadn't been present before, and the sound of the grass around her rustling. 

'When you're with him, you never stick around long enough for anything to make an impression,' He continued. 'Everything's viewed from an outsider's perspective, and- Oh. You okay there, Pond?'

'This is beginning to get frustrating, Sander,' Amy's voice quivered, her thighs squeezed together as a very obvious blush crested her cheeks. 'Keeps i-interrupting my thinking...'

'Another attack, huh?' Sander blinked, feeling the first tendrils of the alien's compulsion winding around his mind. He spent a moment watching Amy squirm in the grass, undeniably enjoying the show, but motivated to do more. He sidled a little closer, 'They're just going to get more and more frequent...'

'Yeah, awesome,' Amy gritted her teeth as another undulation swept through her hips. 'I don't think I can even make it home right now.'

'Happily, I don't think you'll need to,' Sander craned his neck to survey the surrounds, noting with satisfaction the tall line of hedges that blocked them from the town itself. 'I could just fuck you right here, Pond.'

'That's not really much of a line- and it's affecting you too, isn't it?' Amy didn't break stride for a second, as realization dawned. Some small part of her knew then that there was no easy way out of this without submitting to his desires; a much larger part welcomed the thought.

'Isn't it appropriate?' There was a flickering glint in Sander's eye as he rolled over, bringing himself above Amy, trapping her underneath him. His face was inches from her, undisguised desire stoked from mere cinders to a full blown blaze at her feel of her warm and pliable body so close, 'All this talk of seeing stars, and then you end up on your back.'

Amy could feel it, as his fingers slid up under her shirt, crept higher by the second; his fingertips were like fireworks to her needy nerves, and her breath caught in her throat. This was undeniably enjoyable, but the loss of control was still vaguely terrifying, this thudding and deeply felt lust so completely alien to her, that her rational mind still felt a need to fight against it. 

It was as though her days now progressed in fits and starts, broken up with bouts of uncontrolled arousal, and the possible satiation of that with... whoever happened to be around, really. There was that lingering threat of losing her inhibitions in the most permanent way, fulfilling the alien's wants and then having to watch as word of that rippled across the pond, filling Leadworth with rumors and bruising her reputation further. 

Her kissogram shtick pumped just about the right amount of scandal into the town, for Amy's taste; there was no need to push it any further.

At least Sander was an outsider; he said he was here to help, but even if he turned out to be lying at least doing this with him would be relatively safe. Oh, and fun. As her body burned at his every touch, Amy felt it only truthful that she add that last part.

She let out a gasp, far too loudly, as his fingers slid around one of her nipples, tightening just enough to get her attention. Every nerve in her body twanged to his touch, like tugging a single thread on a web of pleasure, the others moving in turn. 

'Still with me, Pond?' Sander said in a low voice, as footsteps passed by just beyond the hedge barrier. 'Stand up.'

She did as she was told, her feet bending stalks of grass as she pulled herself upright, fighting the urge to tackle him and just take what she needed with every moment. To do so felt... wrong, somehow. She didn't want that; she wantedhim to take it from her. Not Sander specifically, just this vague notion of being taken. Losing control. She waited, expectantly, just to see where he would go next.

He sat on the grass, one hand resting on a raised knee, and whenever his eyes made contact with Amy's she could practically feel the tracks of his fingers up her stomach, ringing her navel on their way to more interesting areas. They spent a few moments like this; Amy rocked on her heels, desperate for something to happen, as Sander simply took his time, viewing her like a work of art, not even trying to hide his appreciation of her form.

'Amy, take off your clothes,' He said finally, tapping a finger down the length of his calf, and looking awfully restless in doing so. The words made her hesitate, and she looked over her shoulder without thinking, knowing that beyond that wall of foliage lay her entire life and everyone she had ever known. But Sander continued, keeping her trapped, 'That's right, I wasn't kidding. Do it.'

And she did. Recklessly, she did. With her town at her back, Amy lifted the hem of her shirt over her head, and, at Sander's beckoning gesture, handed it to him. He took each of her clothes in turn, skirt then bra then panties, right out of her hands and out of her reach. It was as though they had just disappeared, vanished into the void the moment she let them go; she was naked, standing on the outskirts of civilization like some kind of nymph, pale body almost glowing in the otherworldly moonlight. She looked down as Sander did, surveyed the interplay of shadow and light on the slopes and curves of her body, a natural work of art painted in sheer prurient energy.

The hungry look in Sander's eyes suddenly felt so much more justified. 

With a long exhalation he leaned in, pushing his entire weight forward to ensnare her, hands gripping her by the hips and, after bringing her in closer, her ass. He pulled her down on top of him, into his lap. When they finally came to a stop, Amy was straddling him, her bare pussy grinding against his jeans, face to face with her now rather intense paramour. Without a word, before she even knew what was happening, he kissed her, tongue invading her mouth for a scant moment, a few seconds of pure, crystallizing fire before he pulled away, leaving her gasping.

Pressing his suit, Sander's mouth travelled downward, mounting the curve of Amy's breast and finding its target with her nipple. As his teeth closed around the pale pink nub, Amy knocked her head back, lost in the electric sensation. He lingered on her chest, enough to keep her breath permanently out of reach; she found herself gasping more and more as his tongue ringed her sensitive skin again and again, teasing her relentlessly. 

As his mouth explored her chest, Sander's hand slipped between her legs, right into her wetness with little fanfare or preparation, just a sense of possessiveness that sent a tremor down Amy's spine. He was inside her, all over her, teeth and tongue and fingers in a never ending procession of combinations, the kind of things Amy had never experienced before. It was almost enough to make her forget her vulnerable position.

But the nervous race of excitement never truly went away; the streetlights were at her back, the same light that caressed her creamy skin was guiding the people she saw every day home from the pub, illuminating the streets she knew like the back of her hand. She was on the edge of being discovered at all times, straddling the line between the little world she had come from and the infinity of possibilities beyond. Halfway between Leadworth and the stars.

It was no accident that Sander had positioned them the way he had; if someone did discover them, Amy's stripped body would be the first thing they would see. There was nowhere to hide for her.

And it didn't even matter. Amy groaned, heedless of the risk, grinding her hips on Sander's fingers, eyes taking in the sky over his shoulder. His every touch spilled twinkling traceries of starlight over her nerves, far closer and more intimate than the distant points of light on the horizon. She could be in the centre of town, surrounded by people, and if she could feel like this, see those stars... it wouldn't matter.

Even lost in her own body as she was, Amy still squealed when Sander's weight suddenly tipped forward, bearing her to the ground with him atop her. He moved in a rapid frenzy, hands working the buckle of his belt with a kind of insistence that made Amy shudder. The intensity of his desire for her, alien empowered or not, still amazed her; she wasn't used to being seen like this. To many of the boys around her, she was one of them, or worse, the weird one. The dream addled girl that, no matter how attractive they might find her, was more trouble than she was worth. 

But Sander never stopped looking at her, his intentions plain to the point of bludgeoning her with meaning. He pulled her legs up to her chest, creamy thighs framing her breasts, and more importantly, her pussy on display, the target of his lust, glistening with dew in the moonlight. The grass around them rustled constantly with their movements, and Sander's body was wreathed with stars, as he positioned his tip at her entrance, stopping frustratingly short of the penetration Amy needed.

'Remember what you said earlier, Amy?' His voice was low, head hanging down so his face was shadowed, the details of his expression occluded from Amy's view. 'That word...'

Amy felt herself blush almost immediately, and she turned her head away. That thought had been sitting in her brain ever since they had left her house; the word had just been something she had blurted out without thinking, in the heat of the moment. But it had left an impression in her mind, as though she had acknowledged something that had gone unfelt in her for as long as she could remember; just there, hiding away but inflecting every part of her being. 

Even so, there was an oddly angular feeling to it, as though whatever she was beginning to realize had come about awkwardly; she supposed that, like so many things in her life, this side of her had been intended for the Doctor. 

'What, are you embarrassed by it?' Sander said, tugging Amy back to the real world, where once again she was pressed down and naked, geared up for that word...

'Don't be,' He continued. 'I was there too, remember. You said it to me. And this is my normal... C'mon, say it again. You'll feel better, getting it off your chest.'

There was something in his eyes, an openness and acceptance of everything in her, that made Amy want to speak up. Exactly like the Doctor, his face was an open book, wants written over his features like poetic verse, in a town where everyone cloaked the things they thought with a veil of propriety and normalcy. The two of them had been dropped here from another planet, someplace freer and different and filled with possibilities. 

She felt safe to be the one who broke out of the mold, around them. 

'Master...' Even so, Amy almost couldn't believe that she had said it again. Her voice trembled. She had spent so long afraid of those impulses, nervous that she had found yet another part of herself to distance the rest of the world from her, that unearthing them now was like exposing a nerve, raw and throbbing, to the cold light of day. Even in private, she had been terrified to explore this part of her; better to keep it buried, to not even acknowledge it and hope it stays unseen. The more she knew of its shape, the harder it would be to ignore it.

Barring a few forays onto S&M websites, a few private viewings of the kinkier side of internet porn, Amy had been happy enough to ignore this shuddering, kinky proclivity in her. But those few visits to the darker side had been a heady drug, something that stuck in her mind long after she had worked herself to a deep and powerful climax while watching all manner of violent sexual acts, things that persisted beyond her orgasm. 

Things that popped back up in the middle of the night, in dreams that left her wet and wanting and yet somehow still cold. It wasn't something she could shake.

It had ended up becoming an undercurrent, but she was Amy Pond; that level of submission ran counter to everything she had become since her meeting with the Doctor. Years of disbelief and whispers from the rest of the town had turned her fiercely independent, strong in ways she might not have been without that distancing event, alone, and it was perhaps safe to assume that would carry on into the bedroom. 

Not according to the things she thought about; not in the shadow of her fantasies of sex that hurts, that left her shaking and exposed in ways she never had been before...

And now, over the course of a single day, this man had seemingly stepped out of the shadows in her mind, and forced her, entirely effectively, to confront this part of her directly. A little voice in the back of her mind was growing, and it unashamedly wanted more; it was the same voice that had packed its bags and waited in her garden all night for a man in a blue box.

Sander treated Leadworth with a vague, constant sense of distaste. It was her home. But he was a start.

'There now,' Sander smiled like he was about to bite. 'Doesn't that feel good?'

Amy didn't say anything, but her body said it all; she shuddered, grass sticking to her back as it arched up into his touch. His thumb had rounded her nipple, a rewarding touch for her honesty. When it left her, it slipped down lower, taking hold of his shaft to rub it up and down her slit, never quite adding enough pressure to get it inside her. Amy realized that she had never wanted anything more, in that moment.

'You want it, Pond?'

'Yes...' She hissed, voice low as the crunch of footsteps above belied a passerby just beyond the cover of the hedges. She craned her neck to see who it was, but pinned as she was, she couldn't quite get there.

'Ask me nicely,' He was smiling, but it wasn't a friendly smile. It was the smile of a mugger in a dark alley, an ingratiating façade over a steely core; a smile with a threat.

'Please...' She stopped, her mouth forming his name, before another word supplanted it, pushed its way onto her tongue. 'Master, please, do it to me...'

'Come on, be detailed,' Sander leaned in to whisper the words in her ear. He looked up, to the stars, bypassing the edge of the village entirely, 'You're not in Leadworth anymore. Tell me what you want.'

Technically speaking, the boundary of Leadworth was at the edge of this field, but Amy instinctively understood that he was right; this was exactly where she had always been. Anchored to Leadworth, but beyond out, outside of its useful parts. On the edge. The foreign object in the Leadworth body.

And here she was, floating in the shadows at the edge of the town that had held her at arm's length her entire childhood; why should she feel guilty about this? What was it about Leadworth that even made it worthy of defining her actions? The thought was deeply freeing.

The only thing holding her down was him.

She gritted her teeth for a moment, took a deep breath and shot one last look at the fragment of Leadworth she could see from her position, before she gave herself to the moment completely.

'Fuck me,' The words would have earned her a rebuke from the people in that town, a sharp look or entreaty to silence; the stifling sense of British propriety suffocating expression from its conception. But Sander's eyes lit up, matching the stars behind, stoking the fire in her to greater heights, 'Make it hard... Master. Make me want to be loud.'

In some respects, Amy felt as if she was throwing herself off of a cliff, and simply hoping that something would stop her from hitting the ground. Master. The word felt good, but she couldn't tell if that was merely the satisfaction of a new experience, short lived and oft regretted. 




Doctor Who: Panic Moon Rising Ch. 06



But there was too much weighed against the possibility of rationality; her extraterrestrial passenger was throbbing in her mind, pulsing new heights of want through her slender frame. This could have been the worst idea in the world, but enraptured as she was, Amy would have done it in an instant. 

And Sander only gave her an instant. He shifted and moved, reared up into the night, and suddenly Amy's world flipped, end over end. Only the feeling of persistent fingers at her waist and hips hinted at what was happening; he was moving her, putting her onto her front. 

His hand, palm flat on her bare back, told her exactly what would happen if she tried to move, its firm touch brooking no opposition. Even so, Amy instinctively squirmed in reaction to his weight bearing down on her, and his fingers curved inward, pressing into her pale skin hard enough to leave little red marks, fading only after several seconds had ticked by.

Not that that was where Amy's attention had stayed; Sander had spanked her too.

The sound probably hadn't been as loud as Amy had perceived it, but in her mind it echoed throughout the town, its point of origin unmistakable and the type of sound it was understood by all that heard it. In her mind's eye, people in the houses closest to them were opening their doors, stepping out into the street... finding them...

Despite herself, she made a sound, a small and reedy whimper that followed weakly from the louder sound of skin on skin. It guttered out into a gasp, as Amy felt the tip of Sander's cock run the length of her slit, its sheer heat sending a tremor up her spine. 

'Hands out in front of you,' He growled, so wonderfully close to being inside her. 'Wrists crossed. Don't move them, or I'll have to do something that'll really get some noise out of you. How hard do you think you'll have to scream before someone comes to see what's up?'

The question was a threat more than anything else, and Amy knew that Sander meant it; he had no fear of the scrutiny Leadworth would bring to bear on him. His home was waiting for him on the other side of a millennium long gap, after all. It would be the simplest of tasks for him to just walk out of Leadworth and into some other city, leaving her in an even deeper trench of alienation.

'Y-yes,' Amy nodded, allowing her cheek to rest in the soft grass, as the tall man above her lifted her hips higher... and then spanked her again. She gasped out, knowing instinctively, 'Master!'

'Good girl,' He said, and Amy didn't even need to see him to know he was smiling, showing a maximum of teeth. He leaned in as he entered her, body curving almost like a shield over the top of her as inch after inch of throbbing, wonderful cock slaked that intense ache at the core of her being. Amy was still imagining those pearly white teeth when he bit her, sinking his teeth into her shoulder in an attempt to earth some of that boundless arousal that coursed between the two of them. She jumped then, the sudden movement causing additional sharp pain as his canine teeth dug in deeper, but that only made her pussy clench hard around his cock. A shudder rippled down her spine at the flick of his tongue against her skin that signaled his retreat. 

Sander planted idle, soft kisses in strange patterns over her skin as he started fucking her slowly, but any gentleness there was merely a façade. One hand remained on her backside, fingers spread possessively over a single cheek, easily able to feel the trembling tenseness of her muscles, the need for him to drive home into her again and again, harder and harder until Amy was bruised and gasping for air. Both of them were raring to go, she realized, as a sudden, thoughtless thrust went far deeper and far rougher than those that had come before it, eliciting a wolfish growl from Sander, so close to her ear that she felt it sink into her mind, tearing a response from her shaking lips.

'Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me...' 

They didn't even particularly feel like her words. They were things spoken in the voice of Amy Pond, but they were pure desire in audible form, issuing from some deep, animal place in the beating heart of her biology. She was nothing but a fire, fuelled by adrenaline and dopamine and all those other chemicals that came together and made the magic happen and now she could feel her clit throbbing in her teeth.

He wasn't moving nearly fast enough, seemingly intent on savoring her, indulging in every tactile pleasure of her body. His free hand drifted beneath her, from her breasts to her belly to her thighs, squeezing, pinching, caressing with impunity. His fingers curled as they reached her hair, pulling those red tresses tight. It wasn't what she needed, but Amy had to admit there was a certain allure to this, the objectification of their silence, the way she couldn't even look at him as he fucked her, touched her, took her body for his pleasure. She felt like whatever she experienced was just him taking her along for the ride.

The grass below tickled her nipples as her newfound Master sped up, his weight pushing her forward, thrust after thrust. The sensation was compelling, just one part of the symphony of nature rising up all around her, joining in with their sex. The dirt under her knees, the coolness of the night air as it blew across her sweaty skin, the unyielding hardness of a pebble just under her collarbone, dripping tiny aching moments of pain into her muscles like she imagined a collar would around her neck... everything combined, drew together into a single enhanced experience. 

This moment, as the nymph writhed on the ground, taken in every possible way.

Amy's back arched, almost painfully, as Sander thrust in deeper than he had before, his tip brushing against some sensitive place inside her. She moaned, long and deep, biting off the end of the sound as car tires crunched the dirt road just beyond the hedges. A shudder ran through her body, at the thrill of fear that bloomed in her chest, the spontaneous risk of what she was doing becoming more erotic by the second.

'Hush now, Amy,' Sander's hand in her hair pulled back, lifting her inexorably up off the grass, aided by his other arm beneath her. When he stopped she was kneeling, her ass in his lap with her back against his chest. She was on full display, now; anyone walking by that chanced a look over the hedgerow would see her. She was unmistakable, pale against the moonlight, 'You know how sharp the ears are on these country folk. You know how they like to talk.'

Oh, did they ever like to talk, and so often they liked to talk about her. For once though, Amy couldn't muster the mental energy to feel bad about that; the whole of her mind was absorbed in Sander's palm on her breast, his hardness filling her up, the heat of his body and the rhythmic, harsh panting. Her legs splayed at either side of him, her own weight bearing her down upon his cock, driving him deep inside her. 

Amy tilted her head back, letting it rest on Sander's shoulder; the night sky boiled with stars, clear and filling her view. And here she was, getting fucked by a man who had stepped among them. A man who wanted to be her Master.

Leadworth had never seemed so far away.

'I can feel you, Amy,' Sander murmured in her ear, blowing a strand of her hair out of his face. 'That pretty little cunt tightening around my dick. I'm very familiar with the way your body acts... You're going to cum soon, aren't you?'

'Y-yes...' She whimpered. A shudder rocked her; his animal tone, the filth of his language... nobody had spoken to her like this before...

Suddenly, his fingers tightened on her nipples in the dark, ripping a gasp from Amy that echoed terribly into the town. 

'Not until you beg,' He growled, adding with a grin, 'slut.'

The word itself nearly tipped her over the edge, aided in no small part by the constant low pounding of his cock. A deep, shameful blush crept over her cheeks, and in a flash of pride, Amy found herself desperately wanting to close her legs, push herself away from him and finish herself off on the grass, shuddering in an entirely earthbound climax.

But the rest of her was flying, the stars were above her, and her lips formed the words.

'M-master, please let me cum,' Her voice trembled as her Master bounced her in his lap. 'May this slut cum, sir?'

Sander placed an approving kiss to her neck, 'Cum for me.'

Suddenly, the stars were right in the palm of her hand.

A dam burst inside her, and Amy had to bite her lip to stop herself from crying out. It didn't help; her body vibrated in orgasm, skin burning in a full body blush, and Amelia Pond screamed through clenched teeth. She screamed in climax, in pleasure, in defiance at the town that had led her here, as the juices of her arousal dripped down her inner thighs. 

Sander's hands slipped away, letting Amy fall forward, catching herself with her hands so she could take her orgasm on all fours. Her hips moved almost automatically, ass bouncing, fucking herself on his cock, riding out wave after wave of climax. Her eyes squeezed shut, denying the earth below her, keeping the stars in her mind. She was floating, flying, being torn apart by pleasure.

Coming to pieces.

At the periphery of her senses, Amy felt Sander pull out, his seed spilling across her back, red hot and only serving to magnify her pleasure. She heard him growl, felt the muscles in his legs tense below her, as for that singular second her pussy clenched down on nothing, and she was nearly alone with her gasping, insensible pleasure.

And then it was over.

It took a moment for Leadworth to creep back into her bones, through the chill in the air; her body was still running too hot for the cold to affect her. She felt like her naked skin was steaming, sloughing off the starlight warmth of their sex, and those heedless minutes where they had left the earth. All there was was her gasping, panting breath, and the tight, tense heat of Sander's body behind her. 

That familiar creeping wave of exhaustion swept over her, something she was led to believe was an effect of the alien currently in residence inside her. Wiping the sweat from her brow, Amy collapsed to one side, an indefatigable grin spreading across her pale features. Sander leaned back on his hands beside her, sharing her expression as though the two of them had just won the lottery. They sat in silence for a time, muscles unwinding, until Sander finally decided to put his pants back on.

'Better?' He asked, tossing Amy her clothes. 'You can't say I didn't make that work.'

'Much better,' She answered, without a shred of hesitation. Leadworth lay behind her, satisfaction making her impervious to its dragging influence. Without undue hurry, Amy sat up and began pulling her clothes back on, not that she needed them; with the alien's happy blush cresting her cheeks, she fully felt that she could walk through the center of town naked without allowing anything to stick. 

'We should get back,' Sander peered over the hedge row as Amy finished dressing. 'You mind if I room with you tonight? I don't really feel like sleeping rough so many nights in a row.'

'Only if you're not a gentleman about it,' Amy muttered, still flushed.

'What's that?'

'Oh, nothing,' She shook her head. 'Yes, let's go. If we're too late, Aunt Sharon will notice. She always notices, somehow.'

'Hey, she's got a niece who goes out kissin' guys for money, I can't really blame her for vigilance,' Sander shrugged, filing away Amy's sharp glance for further reference before replying, quickly. 'But yeah, let's be quiet about it anyway, huh?'

They walked, side by side, down the lonely backstreets of Leadworth, talking sparingly, and only in hushed voices when they did so. Sander had walked through many places on many worlds at night, and none of them looked quite so deserted as this tiny English town. The entire place slept, to the last man, leaving the pair adrift in the shell of civilization that remained.

At Amy's door, Sander went to slip around the back for the climb up to the window, but Amy rolled her eyes and dragged him in through the front door after her, rolling her eyes. Together, they crept upstairs, Amy's hand on his guiding him around the spots that creaked or made a noise, with practiced stealth that denoted that this wasn't the first time she had done this. 

Sander couldn't help the temptation to let himself get caught, to make his mark on history, but he suppressed it.

'You can stay here tonight,' Amy said quietly once they had gotten to her room. 'But let's not make a habit of it. We'll get you your own room in the morning.'

'You think Sharon'll go for me?' Sander asked. 'She didn't seem to like me earlier.'

'You asked that earlier. Just try to look wholesome.'

'I've never done that before.'

'Color me surprised,' Amy cocked an eyebrow.

'I could color you red pretty easily,' Sander leveled his most intense gaze at her, and watched the blush spread across her cheeks. 'See?'

'Not twice in one night,' She shook her head, as if to dislodge the thoughts that had arisen. 'Too many times and I might lose feeling down there. I'm going to get changed.'

'Fine by me,' Sander grinned, dropped himself heavily onto Amy's bed, reflecting for a moment on the sheer oddity of that concept, before making sure Amy knew he was looking at her. The girl had crossed to her wardrobe, but she paused to stare him full in the eye; it seemed impossible that his actions would surprise her, yet there they were. 

Amy Pond, who was so used to Rory, such a gentleman in situations like these, all too ready to excuse himself to the hallway with an awkward expression, wasn't facing a Williams man this time. Instead, she was in her bedroom with a man who had just fucked her in a field, and was now entirely willing to... just watch.

She caught a glimpse of his teeth before she turned and began to strip off her clothes. It felt like an unspoken agreement that his eyes simply wouldn't leave her bare skin during this exchange, and Amy couldn't help but grin as she very deliberately bent forward to extract her nightgown, giving Sander a good long look at her ass. She drank up the attention much as he drank up the view, infusing the room with crackling sexual energy.

'There,' She said, turning back to him just a second too early, giving him an eyeful of breast before the cloth slid down to cover her. She felt vaguely proud, as though she had taken his challenge and won, 'Hey, you've got nothing but the clothes on your back, don't you? How long have you been wearing those?'

'Too long,' Sander said solemnly. 

'Yeah, I thought as much. I'm not sleeping next to you like that. I'm sure we've got some men's clothes around somewhere...'

'I could always sleep naked,' Sander stopped her dead with his frustrating casualness. Even so, Amy's heart leapt at the thought, and she had to physically stop herself from answering too quickly.

'You could do that,' She said, mentally counting out the seconds beforehand. Her attendant nod still seemed too forceful, however. Sander tilted his head to one side. 

'Only if you do too.'

He didn't miss her blink of surprise, nor the second of hesitation that came with a distinct fidgeting of her fingers. But again, she met the challenge head on, with an inkling of that old Amelia Pond spirit, discarding the nightgown and letting it pool on the floor, out of mind mere seconds later.

'Make sure you lock the door,' Sander looked her up and down, undisguised lust in his eyes, before he spoke. The dim of night had reduced his ability to perceive the details of her pink, soft, and- an inspection lower down confirmed- moist form. Amy was good looking anywhere, but well-lit, she was a work of art. 

She demonstrated that the door handle wouldn't budge before looking at him expectantly, watching him strip out of his own clothes with interest. Sander did his best to keep his back away from her; the scar on his shoulder all too often raised questions he didn't feel like answering, and he knew from experience that Amy would be dogged in her search for the truth on that issue. 

Turning off the lights rendered Sander effectively blind; the moon's position limited the amount of natural light entering through the window. There was just enough to make out a silhouette, the suggestion of Amy's curves moving through her room, every sound exaggerated by the dulling of their other senses. The sheets hissed softly as she slid beneath them, her motion rubbing all sorts of things against all sorts of other things.

Sander found himself resisting plenty of urges, settling for laying back instead. Even so, he found his arm automatically sticking out, giving the girl a place to rest her head.

The silence that followed was broken only by Amy's breathing, as unseen seconds ticked by in the night and Sander felt the first inklings of sleep tugging at the back of his brain. His consciousness was being drawn back into the pillow, out of the world, where he didn't have to think of complex spacetime events, or temporal paradoxes, or any of the things that had dominated his thoughts these past few days. He tried to pretend that was comforting.

'Sander?' Amy said suddenly. 'Your eye is whirring.'

Sander blinked, almost self-consciously. He supposed it was, but the sound had been so close to him at all times, and so imperceptible that it took dead silence even to pick it up, that it had faded into the background for him.

'It's mechanical,' He replied. The silence turned speculative for a second, before...

'Cool,' Amy said, with tired conviction. 

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

To be continued...