A/N: Okay. Amazingly enough, many of you are still with me, even after the LONG explanation. Yay! Here's some more... Gosh. I think I'm starting to feel just a little bit...pie-ish... *g* Anybody else up for key lime?

About the only time losing is more fun than winning is when you're fighting temptation.

~Tom Wilson

For every man there exists a bait which he cannot resist swallowing.

~Friedrich Nietzsche

I.

When she pulled him into her arms, some part of him demanded that he resist, that he continue to explain to her what kind of monster he was, that he pull free of her for her own good, run away, end this moment of acceptance on her part. She still doesn't know. Doesn't know what you are, doesn't know what you've done, doesn't understand that you're the thing everyone is scared of in the darkness hiding under the disguise of goodness, a whitewashed tomb...When she finds out...when she finds out... That voice with teeth in it hissed at him from the shadows in his soul, and he felt misery claw at him anew.

However, despite the fact that she was only a human woman-girl, not his equal in physical strength, not his equal in years or in knowledge, not his equal in so many areas, in this moment of acceptance, somehow she bested him. He could not make himself push her away. So he deliberately shut out the vengeful, hateful voice inside him, and rested his head on her shoulder looking away toward the fireplace with a soft sound and a tiny shiver of something like relief. Her hands, those small, ruby-tipped hands, circled slowly, soothingly on his back, exerting no force to keep him there against her, but for all that, as inescapable in their pull as a collapsing star.

"You're just as broken as I am, aren't you, Doctor?" she murmured.

She heard his breath pause, felt the strange tempo of his hearts against her alter, but he did not speak.

"What a pair we are then," she continued softly, her voice filling his ear, his mind, his world. "The Raggedy Doctor, the mad lonely man in his blue box sailing through the stars and the years, and the poor little crazy Scottish girl in an English village who sees things that are not there and throws tantrums."

He shut his eyes. Oh, Amelia. You're weaving a spell, you are. But I will be strong this time. I can be strong. I can be... He turned his face into the fragrant spill of her hair, inhaled the scent of her, in spite of himself. It was, after all, uncomfortable to sit so long in that other position. He blocked the mocking laughter and the whine of desire that arose within him at his rationalization, at the fragrance of her.

"Maybe we're too much in one place," she mused. "Some would say that. Too much bull-headed stubbornness. Too much love of adventure. It might be a bad thing, volatile to have so much of it together in the same place." She felt his breath feather her hair in a puff of amusement.

"They might be right, too, you know," he said, at last breaking his silence. "Especially about the stubbornness."

"Am I as stubborn as all that, then?" She smiled as she said it, glad to hear something like his usual bantering expression starting to chase some of the shadows from his voice.

He pushed back slightly to look her in the eyes, but she slid her hands up to his shoulders, didn't let him go very far. "Amy, and I say this with all respect due you, I think you may just be almost as stubborn as me."

"Oh, high praise indeed, then," she snarked, and then she laughed, reaching up to smooth down his wild hair gently.

He laughed too, a little. "Certainly. The highest, you know..." His voice trailed off and he looked down into her eyes again, saw the light in them. His hands came up to catch hers, still them. "Amelia..."

"You're holding my hands, so we're in contact. I wonder. Are...are you seeing something now?" Her thumbs caressed his fingers where they held hers captive.

"No," he said firmly. "And I'll have you know I am most definitely not looking. Shields are all nicely down. Locked up tight and barred against all invasion. Not falling into that again."

She tilted her head to the side, leaned toward him just a bit, was amused when he leaned back in equal measure.

"If you're not inside my head, how do you know that there's anything to take that particular tone with me about then? Hmm? I might be thinking about unicorns or bicycles, you know..."

His lips turned up in a wry, arrogant smirk. "Some things you don't have to be a mindreader to know, Pond. I mean, I have been around this block once or twice in 907 years, mind you..."

"Oh really? Have you then? Bet there are some interesting stories there. Want to tell me some of those? True Confessions through the ages?"

"Well, I mean to say, that is..."

She laughed at his sudden discomfort, took advantage of the opportunity to slip her hands free of his grasp, frame his face gently with her hands, lean in close.

"Amy," he whispered, focused on her mouth so close now, only a breath away from his own. "Amy, wait. There are other things you need to know, have to know, other questions I'm sure you want answered first..." His hands were on her shoulders as they had been so long ago now, the first time she'd backed him up against the TARDIS doors and kissed him. They were pushing against her gently, trying to keep her away, but now, as then, they weren't putting very much effort into it, she couldn't help but notice.

She smiled, looked from his eyes which were filled with a mixture of concern and desire down to the mouth she wanted so much to taste and back again. "You're right. There probably are. And I definitely do. But let's just consider this bit a practical experiment, okay?" And she leaned in, and did what she was best at. She took what she wanted.

II.

He was in something of a conundrum. She was kissing him, and that was a very good thing. In fact, he liked it very, very much. In fact, the thought flitted across his mind to wonder where she'd gotten this good at kissing in her short life, but he chased it away as best he could. Bloody Kiss-O-Gram, he grumbled to himself, and his hands tightened around her, pulling her closer to him. He did not like the thought of that at all. His mouth plundered hers a little more aggressively.

But then like a dash of cold water...

Well...

Really...

They shouldn't be doing this, should they. This shouldn't be happening. Not unless she was completely sure. Because there would be consequences. Things he couldn't take back. Things he'd need. Things she might not like if they went where he thought she wanted this to go. Snogging on the couch was one thing. And a mighty fine thing it was. In fact, he reflected as she did something interesting with that berry-sweet tongue of hers, it was something that didn't really make it onto enough lists of worthy pursuits in the known worlds, wasn't it? I mean that little maneuver alone would be worth studying in detail for...

He shook himself mentally. Great Rassilon. Get control of yourself. She's not the first female you've ever kissed. Even if she does have hair like the fire-cascades of Durania and skin as soft as... Stop it! You need to Stop. This. Or next thing you know, your instinct is going to overrule you, and she's going to be one exceptionally ticked-off woman... And that will be the least of your problems.

He dutifully pushed her back gently, creating a space between them, tried again. "Amy...Amelia... really, let me explain to you about the..."

She pushed him back hard, hard enough to tumble him back onto the couch, and she crawled up him to lie across him before he could react, her eyes glittering, her kiss-swollen bottom lip caught between her teeth. "No. I don't think so. Not this time." She was leaning over him, something predatory in her eyes as she looked down.

"Pond..." He felt his pulse react to the demand in her gaze, to the scent of her need, to the desire in her mind which was now flowing against his weakening barriers like the sea destroying a child's abandoned sandcastle, felt his body reply. Because there's not a male alive who wouldn't respond to that. That is the heart of a thousand suns, that is the light of life, that is...Amelia...

"Doctor," she purred, running her hands up his chest, and with a deft flick of her fingers, she pulled his bowtie undone. "I say this with all due gratitude for how concerned you are for my feelings..." Her tone let him know she was choosing words to echo his earlier, and he fleetingly appreciated it for just a moment until she bent over him on one elbow, lips almost touching his while the fingers of her free hand worked the first four buttons of his shirt, slipped in between the undone fabric and his undershirt, curled her nails slightly against him just to feel his abdomen tense. She laughed softly. "...with all due gratitude, just shut up and kiss me." And still he might have been able to turn away, still he might have been able to leave her had she not sealed her spell with the deepest of magics. For then she locked eyes with him and with the hand of the arm she rested on, she gently, slowly, deliberately circled delicate fingertips over that place where lovers connect minds.

Instinct and desire blazed up, overruled all the other tiny pitiful little voices. Inside him, the dark beast slipped its collar. His hands slid around her, gripped her hard, convulsively closed, and he pulled her down.

III.

She felt the difference in him immediately. It was as if a switch had been thrown. His hands came around her, slid up her back to pull her down hard against him, one hand twining up into her hair to cradle the back of her head and angle it to suit him as his mouth found hers again, nipped her bottom lip before sliding his tongue over it and across her own. His other hand slid down to cup her derrière, spread wide over the curve of it and hold her hips firmly against his own, make her feel the rising and profound evidence of his desire for her there. He pushed lightly with his body, and she found herself suddenly somehow underneath him, pressed down into the softness of the blue upholstery. The movement had been agile, lightning fast, and strong. She shivered with it, with the dexterity of the change, with the newfound pleasure of his weight settling on top of her.

She hadn't really properly appreciated how good he felt there when he'd been pinning her to the couch earlier. She'd been far too angry to feel the angular strength of him, to stretch beneath him, arch up into the hands that skated down her sides lightly, lightly to her hips in encouragement as they fit together like two long-separated halves of a whole. She made a little sound of satisfaction into his mouth, which he devoured, changing the angle of the kiss as if he were trying to taste more of her, trying to drink deeper, giving her a growl of his own as she slipped her right leg up and around his lean waist.

She felt one of his hands slip under the edge of her sweater just above the waistband of her pants, could feel just the tips of his fingers against the skin of her stomach, and her muscles there contracted with the sensation of his touch. She slid her own hands to hair, tunneled her fingers through it fiercely.

Oh God, touch me, Doctor, please... slid through her mind, and he smiled against her mouth, ran his hand up her in an open palmed caress that had her twisting against him. Too slow...you're...I need...more... Everywhere you touch me, I... I...

He broke the kiss to nibble his way up her neck ending beside her ear. "Slow down, Pond. I know. I know. All good things take time, though..." And he sucked her earlobe; she felt his teeth tug gently. He laughed as she cursed at him, pulled at him, and he captured both her hands in one his own, pinned them over her head against the couch, looked down at her with eyes black and starshot with desire. "After all," he murmured, "I do know exactly what you want, don't I?"

Her head fell back and her eyes swept closed as his mouth burned kisses along the neckline of her sweater, across her collarbone, as his hand slid back under the soft fabric, up, and up, so slow, circling...

You...you...can hear me again, can't you?...you're...you can...see...Oh God...

His hand covered her breast over the satin bra she wore,cupped her gently, flicked his thumb lightly over the already aroused peak. Again. Again. She felt liquid lighting course through her with every touch. He studied her face intently as the sensations flooded through her. "'S not possible for this to happen without it, Amelia, not for me. It's a part of it for me. One of the things I was trying to tell you."

So you know... you know... She gasped, moaned as he skimmed the strap down her shoulder slightly, slipped her free of the satin cup, lightly rolled her between his thumb and forefinger. His mouth covered hers, tasting the pleasure, drinking in the sounds she made for a moment before he leaned back again.

"Yes. I know everything you need," he kissed her deeply, slowly, "know just how you want it." He sucked her bottom lip, releasing it to give her a brief, but thoroughly wicked look full of promise that made her toes curl, "Know just how to give it to you." His fingertips were now circling her breast lightly, distracting, arousing beyond all measure. He lowered his head to where her belly was exposed by her rucked-up sweater, kissed her navel, flicked his tongue in, then pressed open-mouthed kisses against her skin as he began to push her sweater up and out of his way. She was making a little sound of need that she didn't seem to be able to stop...

*Know it, beautiful Pond, because part of my pleasure will come from giving you yours. But this knowing...it's going to turn into a two-way street if we go much much further. There won't be any help for that...*

He had her sweater pushed up to just beneath her bra, was resting his head on her stomach, his hands tracing soothing circles down her sides. Her lust-addled brain registered, as he'd no doubt intended her to, that she had heard his voice once again in her head. Just like before in the pool. He was looking at her with barely banked desire, waiting for some sign from her before he proceeded. She understood, quite clearly, that he was giving her a chance to back down, to run away before all the rules of the game changed for good.

Okay, so it was pie light (fat free? ha!) this time. Stay tuned, gentle reader. Stay tuned...