A/N: *Ding, ding* Order up. Pie. Key Lime. You kept your fork, right, honey? (Very, very much M.)
What he had yearned to embrace was not the flesh but a downy spirit, a spark, the impalpable angel that inhabits the flesh.
~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Wind, Sand and Stars, 1939, translated from French by Lewis Galantière
It is not sex that gives the pleasure, but the lover. ~Marge Piercy
I.
She struggled to pull the tatters of her thoughts together, looked down at him. He lay still except for those gentle hands, but it was a stillness, she knew somehow, that was costing him, a stillness bought only with incredible power of restraint. She could see it in his eyes, and the depth of the desire, the vast heat of the hunger she saw there, made her lips part on a soundless gasp, made a shiver of answering sensation run through her. His hands gripped her briefly, possessively, as her reaction flowed through him, and then they softened again.
Somehow she found her voice, a broken, husky whisper. "Tell me, then."
He slid up her, rolled her into his arms so they lay side by side, bodies pressed firmly together down the length of the couch. His hand caressed the exposed flesh of her back, her side, all the way down to her hip, pulled her against him, urged her top leg over his and back around his waist, and he grunted with pleasure when she complied with his wordless demand. He pressed his face into the curve of her neck, nuzzling there, and she murmured his name softly as he opened his mouth and she felt his teeth, lightly, once, graze the joining of neck and shoulder, felt his tongue flicker against her, tasting. Then he stilled, sighed. She waited, mind spinning.
"The more intimate we become, the more urgent it will be for me to join my mind with yours fully. Right now, the link we have is actually rather superficial, only one created by the amount of contact we're sharing. I know how you feel about the whole issue of people being inside your head, Amelia, but it's going to be unavoidable if we continue." He pressed his mouth to hers languidly for a moment, placating the leading and worst edge of the hunger inside him to allow him another delay.
"However that's not all of it... the.. closer... we get, the stronger the bond is made, and it won't just be me seeing into you. You'll... you'll see into me as well. The bond will let you know me as I'm knowing you, feed you what I desire, what I'm feeling in the same way. It will be quite intense."
She nodded slowly, showed him that she understood. She had more or less expected most of this since she'd heard his voice, felt him in her mind before... There was more, though...
He looked at her carefully, studied her face, "And... then there's the fact that being inside my head may not be a comfortable place for you for a variety of reasons. I won't lie about it. You've had no training for the bond as a female of my own kind would've done, and ... There's...darkness there... You might see... things..."
His eyes were shadowed, haunted, tormented. She slipped her hand up to cup his cheek.
"I'm not afraid. You would never hurt me. I trust you."
His eyes slipped closed and he covered her hand with his own, laced their fingers tightly together, turned his face into her palm to kiss it fervently, brought his mouth back to hers for a fast echo there before continuing.
"But Time Lords, we don't quite work like human males when it comes down to it, y'see. Once we reach a certain point, well... the darker aspects of our nature come out. All that mental discipline, all our rigid self-control...it's quite necessary. When we lay it aside, on those rare moments when we do... Before the rise of the Council, before we mastered ourselves, Amy, we were..."
*/Images of warriors, arrogant, bloodstained and proud / bending the weak to their will/ battle cries raging into the responsive blackness of the night sky / war and power / curving swords and pure might / chaos and ruthlessness/*
His words and the images trailed away, and he looked at her again with those ravenous, starving, dangerous eyes. Half his face was dappled with dark blue light from the stained glass windows like a mask, like a shadow. Probably, she should have run. Probably, she should have squealed like a little frightened girl and run away as fast as her shaking legs would carry her, back to the brightly-lit safety of the TARDIS corridor, back to the locking-door safety of her room, back to the dully-predictable safety of Rory and his plodding plans. But she's never taken the safe path in her life, and what she sees in his eyes only makes her body tighten in anticipation, growl a little herself somewhere. And he feels it, hears it. And he knows. Knows that she's chosen.
She went with boldness, always her favorite choice in any situation where she felt any unsurety. She traced a finger over his eyebrow, which raises under her touch. "Mmm. What big, lovely eyes you've got, wolfie..." She pressed a kiss to his eyelids which swept closed for her, opened again moments later.
Something flickered hot, bright, joyous in his gaze, sizzled through her. He grinned. "All the better to see you with, my dear."
She ran her fingertip lightly down the bridge of his nose. "And what a big nose you have..."
He laughed, that short head-tossing bark of humor. "Ha! Nothing compared to some I've had in the past, mind you..."
She didn't know exactly what to make of that remark, so she continued her exploration. His eyes remained watchful, hot, but his hands remained still on her. She knew he was waiting...waiting... What for? Doesn't he know, haven't I made it clear that...
*For the right question... There's a progression to these things, you know. Traditions to uphold. Come on...*
His leg shifted distractingly between hers. Her eyes cut back to his, a little furrow between her brows. His grin didn't fade. She focused on that grinning mouth, brought her fingertips up, gently traced the outline of his mouth with them.
"And what great big teeth you've got, wolfie..." Her mouth went dry, suddenly, her eyes snapped back to his, were snared there by the pure greed, the power of his own. Oh God. That's the right question, isn't it? That's the question...
His grin became feral, and he shifted her easily to lie on top of him, pulled her drape across him as if she weighed nothing, as if she were feather-light. *Oh yes, Pond. Oh yes. That's the question I've been waiting for. Because you know the answer to it, don't you?*
His hands were skimming her sweater up, pulling it off, throwing it carelessly across the room. Nimble fingers unhooked her bra next, sent it flying to join the sweater faster than she could follow, and then his hands were running up her bare back and he was rolling her under him, his weight settling back against her again, slowly pinning her down.
His eyes raked over her, looking at the body he had revealed for himself with a savage light in his eyes. Then they captured her own again, direct, impatient. *The answer, Amelia... The answer?* He leaned over her, opened his mouth slightly, and she felt the heat of his breath fan across one bare breast. Her nipple was peaked and waiting for him. Her hands found and clutched at his shoulders.
Think? He's lying there... like that...about to... and he wants me to think? Her mind struggled to focus through the thick haze of anticipation and she distinctly heard his low chuckle like distant thunder in her her mind.
"The...the...better...the better... to eat you all up with...my dear..."
He smiled again, full of wicked promise. *Ah yes. And that is just what I'm going to do...* And he took the aching peak in one voracious kiss with a deep, satisfied sound low in his throat.
II.
She'd lost track of time. Somewhere along the way, it had simply stopped having any sort of meaning. He could have been kissing her, touching her, for minutes or days. She had no clue anymore. Maybe his mouth had always been hot, wet, open and demanding on first one breast and then the other, suckling her greedily just like this, just the slightest tease of teeth making her twist beneath him. Maybe she had always been arched under him, hands in his hair, these little sounds of encouragement slipping from her.
*Amusement/Desire/Hunger/Need/Pleasure/Strawberries* She gasped, gripped his head harder as it swept over her like the first unexpected cold wave of rain in a summer downpour. It hadn't been words she'd heard. It hadn't been images he'd showed her. She'd felt it...she'd felt...strawberries?
He brought his mouth to hers, gently, soothingly. "It's okay. It's okay. That would just be...me." He smiled a tiny little self-deprecatory grin, but he looked at her with a question in his eyes. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah. It was just unexpected. And yeah, intense. I thought you were going to have to...I mean I thought you would..." She blushed, but they were connected enough that he really didn't need her words.
"You thought I had to touch you...here," he brushed his fingers gently and with relish along her temple, and she felt that electrifying current of pleasure roll through her, turned her face into his hand, helplessly seeking.
His lips covered hers, parted hers, and he kissed her deeply. She felt that sense of him returning as he kissed her, that echo of what she was feeling that was not an echo, that was his own great joy in the joining of their mouths. She groaned softly, shifted beneath him. Want you. Want this. Want...want...more...
He broke the kiss, but his fingertips continued to stroke her lightly. She felt that rolling electrical storm shudder through her, and she watched his eyes slip closed, knew that he felt it, too.
*I don't have to touch you here, Amelia, for us to connect, but this place on our bodies is...more sensitive, sort of a mainline psychic connection for us, and when we're intimate, more...erotic, I suppose. It becomes an erogenous zone when touched by a lover. / Sudden flash of images on that word - the two of them entwined face-to-face, bodies enmeshed but barely moving, of their hands on each other's faces, shattering bliss consuming them. Scene change - she on her knees, he behind her, taking her hard, steady, biting her neck in a kiss of possession, fingers of one hand between her legs, the fingers of the other on her temple both stroking, stroking as she cries out/
She gasped. Heat flooded her. How long have you wanted to do...how long have you been thinking about...
"Yes," he murmured, starting to remove his hand. "I did warn you it would be a two-way street." Now she'll run away. Now she is starting to know the depth and darkness of my need. Now...
No, Doctor. She rolled her face to keep his hand in contact with her face, reached up, slipped trembling fingers against his temple, traced them to match his touch on her own. Why do I keep having to say this to you? Can't you read my mind?
*Right. Shutting up and commencing the kissing right now, Ms. Pond.*
III.
They stood up to get the rest of their clothing off. Suspenders, pairs of pants, shoes, knickers, everything came off with amazing speed with four coordinated hands invested in the task. The only hold-up in the process came because Amelia did not want to stop kissing him long enough to allow him to get his undershirt off.
*Amelia...this one does not come off with buttons, you know. You will have to step back a bit.*
So damn well be quick about it, then. She stepped back just long enough for him to sweep it over his head and toss it to the growing pile of their cast-off garments before running her hands up his bare chest, pressing herself against him again with a feline sound of approval.
He smirked just before he took her lips with his own. *Ha. Guess I'll be hearing quite a bit of that, I suppose...*
Meaning?
*Meaning I plan to take my sweet time with you. And being a Lord of Time...* He smirked again.
She arched back as he began to kiss his way down her neck, her shoulders, lower. She held to his shoulders, slipped one leg up around his as his mouth settled back at her breasts again.. Awfully sure of yourself, aren't you?
He skimmed the fingers of one hand down her alabaster skin to the flaming curls between her legs. She cried out in her mind and aloud, hips hitching. *I suppose...I am at that. Yeah... Do you think it's unjustified?/ smugness /excitement / hunger *
Doctor... oh..ifyoustop...oh...heavenohdeathoh...yeessss...
*I know...Beautiful...So lovely... Have to touch you...Been waiting so very, very long, see...*
His fingers caressed her slowly, rhythmically, steadily, his mouth coming up to drink the little gasps and mewling noises she made. He used his thumb to stroke the bud of her firmly while he slipped another finger inside her suddenly, sharply.
Faster. More. Just like...just like...like that. And there. Please...Need...Need...
Desire, lust, hot and pure flowed back to her through the bond and it intensified her own sensations, doubled them. She could feel his savage pleasure at watching her, his arousal at the feel of her slick against his fingers as he drove her relentlessly higher and higher with each languid stroke, at the knowledge that he was the one making her body twist and writhe. That lightning that came with his touch forked through her, and she tensed, cried out wordlessly, her release washing through them both.
IV.
She clung to him, weakly, recovering, one of his arms around her waist holding her to him. Then suddenly...
*Strawberries. I knew it...Strawberries...*
What? What is this with the strawberries...
*Amusement/Need/Need/Need*
She looked up at him to see him licking his index finger, lightly. Heat seared through her.
"You taste like strawberries, Amelia. All over, apparently. Did you know that?" His tone was light, but the look in his eyes was predatory.
She shook her head, mutely. He was backing her up toward the couch. She felt it hit the back of her knees, and she sat down reflexively. He folded down in front of her, kneeling, supple, graceful as any big hunting cat and twice as dangerous. His hands rested lightly on her knees, and she felt the muscles in her thighs flex lightly in response.
"Did you know that I happen to adore strawberries? It used to be bananas, I think, but tastes will change, and as I am now, strawberries are my absolute favorite." His hands slid open-fingered, broad-palmed, slowly, slowly up the inside of her legs, pushing them apart. He smiled, wolfishly, hungrily.
Going to eat me all up. She giggled a nervous little laugh inside their joined minds. Oh God... Oh God...
*Yes. Rather. Going to start right now, too. Hope you're ready...*
He put his hands on her waist and pulled her forward to the edge of the couch, looked up at her briefly, and then...and then...
She wasn't. She truly wasn't. There was no way to be ready. He teased her, he laved her, he circled, he suckled, he was delicate, he was demanding. She screamed, she cried, she praised him, she cursed him, she pulled at his hair, she clawed at his shoulders, she begged, she threatened, she came again and again, and still he curled between her thighs, draping her legs over his shoulders finally to free up his hands to lift her to enjoy her further, feasting, satiating his unending hunger for her pleasure and his own, for the sound of his name on her lips, echoing across the bond in his mind. Her hips bucked against him, and she felt him smile against her, heard him growl against her. Eventually, the world seemed to grow far away and hazy, and she fell back on the couch to feel the last flicker of his tongue flutter against her oversensitive flesh. He rested his head on her knee, looked up at her.
Why are you picturing me as a giant carved stone statue, and why are all those people dead at my feet?
He laughed softly, turned his head and kissed her thigh. It quivered lightly in response. She stroked his hair weakly.
*Ah, Pond. You gorgeous creature. My impossible little strawberry goddess.* He sighed, and she felt deep satisfaction through their connection.
"I don't understand. You didn't...I mean, we didn't... You just... I mean...I certainly...but...you" She glanced down at the ample evidence of her point of concern.
*Amusement/Arousal/Affection/Appreciation for her concern/A frankly proprietary pride in her condition as she lay there, ravaged and tousled*
"Astutely noted. Right now, though, we are short two things we would need."
"And... those would be?"
"A bed...and a bit of rest for you first, Amy." Because whether or not you know it yet, this has been something of an experience for you today, dear beauty...
"What? Why?" she pouted, leaning up from the back of the couch. He rose to sit beside her, pull her lightly into his arms.
*Can't stop touching her...just need to touch her...need to...want to...feels good to...* He buried his face in the curve of her neck, inhaled deeply, kissed her jaw.
She ran her hands down his back. "I'm okay. And you know I want you, want this, want all of this..." Her hands crept down to his hips, and he caught images of her thoughts of sneaking those clever fingers around between them, shivered in response.
He sighed against her skin, pressed another lingering kiss against her, sat back a bit, ran his fingers over her pouting and kiss-bitten lips. *Stubborn wench* "What I unarguably know is that I'm not going to have you on this narrow couch. Well, at least not the first time, that is. Maybe later. No room whatsoever to be creative here. And that's that," he said, grabbing at the hands that finally made the darting run toward him foretold by her wayward thoughts and pulling her up with him.
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