"Now Amy, try again," the Doctor said in a soothing voice, all the while gently massaging circles into Amy's back. Amy's brow furrowed in concentration and frustration, but she tried with all her might to open her mouth and speak the words that she had been trying to all night. The alien's psychic barrier was still stopping her from saying anything about the explicit dreams she was still having every night, not that she minded that much if she was honest with herself.
There was a stark contrast between her dreamland and reality. In reality, her and the Doctor were now just friends again, the kissing incident filed in the 'never to be spoken of again'category. But it was obviously still fresh in the Doctor's mind, as he kept as much distance as possible between himself and Amy at all times. Well, nearly at all times; he seemed to have forgotten his own rule in the last hour and was now practically hugging Amy. His arms were almost completely circling Amy's body and his head was so close to hers that their foreheads touched. Amy could feel his hot breath on her neck and it sent shivers down her spine whenever he spoke, reminding her once again of her dreams.
The dreams were her fun-filled, happy fantasy world, one of which that it was clear both to her and the Doctor she was becoming addicted to. Once upon a time, Amy was up at the same time in the morning as the Doctor, an early bird just like him. But now she was spending as much time in bed as possible, even making her usual sleeping time earlier in the night, just so she could get some more dreamtime. But to be honest, who wouldn't prefer to be in a land where the Doctor worshipped you, treated you like a Goddess and gave you mind-blowing experiences all night long, compared to a land where he wouldn't step within 2 metres of you and treated you like an old friend?
The TARDIS was having trouble trying to decipher the coordinates that the Doctor had plucked from Amy's mind that led to the suspected psychic alien. It seemed as if they were encrypted or scrambled, almost like an IP Address travelling through many different proxy servers on a computer. Sure, the TARDIS could do it, but it'd take it longer than usual to travel there. So the Doctor thought that no time should be wasted in trying to help Amy. For an hour now, the Doctor had been working with Amy to try and break through the mental barrier in her head and utter something about the dreams, but so far nothing had worked.
It was hard work for Amy, human minds just weren't as evolved as others yet and was no match to the alien's superior psychic capabilities. Heck, even a Timelord would have problems. At the start of the night, the Doctor had sat at the opposite end of the sofa to Amy, coaching her from far away. During the hour, he had gradually moved closer to her and was now so close that Amy was having trouble concentrating on the task at hand. And she wasn't the only one having trouble concentrating.
Slowly, the Doctor was becoming aware of his situation and so far hadn't been able to will his body to move back. So much for his amazing resistance, he thought. Over the last few days, he had been trying to stay away from temptation and it'd been going reasonably well until now. It had only worked so far because he'd been conscious of every situation they were in and had thought about the practicalities beforehand. Now, this situation had crept up on him and his resistance had been worn away at slowly during the day, leaving nearly none left.
He tried to carry on with his little motivational speeches but eventually his voice trailed off, leaving them both sitting in a dimly lit room in silence while almost on top of one another. Amy's mind was working in overdrive, comparing the situation to the ones in her dreams, seeing if it matched up. Even her body was responding even more positively than she ever had before to something like this; her heart was beating dangerously quickly and she felt a slight dampness in her crotch. This had never happened before to her, they hadn't even touched under clothes yet and she was already aroused. How strange.
Almost like they were in tune with each other, Amy and the Doctor lifted their heads slowly to look into each other's eyes. Lust was already evident in both of their faces but when the Doctor saw Amy's eyes were already sparkling and excited, he felt his arousal grow even more and his eyes seemed to cloud over, making his vision seem red and brown tinted. Amy's eyes flicked quickly to the Doctor's lips and back up again and subconsciously in response she did something that sent the Doctor's self-determination flying out the window. She licked her lips.Damn her!
The Doctor's lips crashed into Amy's, the force subsequently knocking them both backwards so that the Doctor was on top on Amy lying on the sofa. After the initial shock, Amy kissed back with a frenzy that she'd never used before. It felt like a fireball had erupted in the pit of her stomach and also... in her mind, and that wasn't her own. An almost primal part of her brain was screaming in ecstasy and she could tell it wasn't a part of her own consciousness. However it was powerful, more powerful than Amy's own willpower. So Amy carried on kissing the Doctor, all the while ignoring the alarm bells that were ringing in her head.
The Doctor was of course not aware of the internal struggle going on in Amy's head and instead was fighting his own battle; the Battle of the Bra-Clasp. He was by no means a virgin and was considered to be a good lover (at least, that's what he'd been told) but Good Gallifrey, human women must have the most annoying and hard-to-get-off lingerie ever! After much wriggling about and flicks of his wrist, he managed to unclasp Amy's bra and set to work unbuttoning her checked shirt. Amy's hands meanwhile found the Doctor's trousers and hurriedly started unzipping and pushing them down with her arms, and eventually having to use her feet to get them down to his ankles.
Her hands travelled down his body, first undoing and chucking away his bowtie, then focusing on getting his shirt off. The slow pace of removing the buttons sent waves of frustration through Amy, they were stiff and she felt the emotions growing unnaturally powerful. The strange animalistic frenzy seemed to engulf her totally at the exact time that the Doctor leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth, her angry emotions clashing violently with the extreme pleasure of the Doctor's ministrations, but at that point her body couldn't take any more. It felt like her own resistance against the invading presence in her mind had snapped, and before it could take her over completely, she passed out.
Of course, the Doctor felt her go limp in his arms and snapped his head up in alarm. Amy lay there, her head lulling to the side, her eyes closed tightly shut and her beautiful ginger hair splayed around her like a fiery halo. The tense, lust filled atmosphere seemed to shift immediately and the fog clouding the Doctor's mind cleared, replaced by a concern for Amy that threatened to nearly overtake him. Gone were the anger and hurt filled days of his first regeneration after the Time War, but that dark side of him was still there, just buried deep, deep inside. Now he could feel it rear its head, all of that power and energy roaring for a release but he hadto control it; if he lost it now he could jeopardise Amy's life. Hurriedly he grappled around the piles of clothes to find his screwdriver and ran it over her, trying to work out what had happened. When he looked at the results, he very nearly lost himself again. It showed that she had been releasing an unusual amount of hormones, ones much more intense than normal for humans, and when he reached her skull the psychic energy was practically off the scale. She hadn't even been in her right mind with this amount of chemicals running through her body; it was lucky that she'd passed out before the alien entity had completely taken over, which would have most likely killed her.
The Doctor, who's mind was the most brilliant in the Universe, couldn't process this information. He had nearly killed her. His own stupidity and weakness had nearly killed Amy, his little Amelia Pond, who had waited so long for him and who's eyes hadn't lost their rose-tinted view of him, who held him in such high-regard in spite of all of the bad things he had done. Finding his feet, he jumped up and screamed in rage as he slammed his fist into the wall, losing count of how many times he had hit it, until eventually he stopped when he was leaving a red, bloody patch on the wall from his knuckles. The intense throbbing didn't bother him; he welcomed the pain. He deserved it. Even when he picked up Amy to carry her into the Console Room and his knuckles kept grazing things, he didn't flinch once.
He would fix this. Never again would he put her in danger again. He would find the alien race that had caused this and he would make them pay.