A/N: Hm. I was asked by a very nice private message to discontinue all other life until the story was done. I was, in fact, promised cookies for so doing. It's so nice to be loved. :) Although I can't do that (one must pay 'the bills' and I have a small herd of animals here who would definitely not approve), I will try to satisfy everyone with a mammoth update with which you can start your week. Oh, and is anyone hungry?

All women are basically in competition with each other for a handful of eligible men.

~Mignon McLaughlin, The Second Neurotic's Notebook, 1966

A gentleman is simply a patient wolf.

~Lana Turner

I.

Early the next morning, light spilled across the floor in a brilliant and storybook golden fall of glory. Amy slept on. The Doctor was amusing himself by gently twisting her long hair lightly around his finger, watching the sun set it ablaze as he turned the events of the past day over in his mind, pondering the wall in Amy's mind and the tenuous and unexpectedly incomplete nature of their bond.

It's a problem. I thought it would iron itself out with time, with strengthening, but it's not, is it? She's blocking somehow. She's got some kind of natural defense or learned response that keeps shutting me out, and it's preventing the bond from being what it ought. Even to the point of putting her in danger last night with the Lunacy... There are things she should know about me that she doesn't...things we should be able to know about one another that we don't...Things I'm just taking for granted that she's able to do or sense that are one-sided or not present in either of us when needed at all...

The words of Áinfean thrown in anger came back to him...one whose mind can never fully join with yours... He gritted his teeth in frustration.

No. I refuse to believe that. Just because Pond isn't a Time Lord or a bloody Rishellian butterfly doesn't mean this can't happen. We will overcome this. Look at River Song. She showed up with that blasted diary full of innuendo, and she's human. This can happen. I refuse to believe Áinfean is right...

His mind shifted to the Empress herself, what she might have up her sleeve by way of vengeance for his actions the previous evening or renewal of her unwanted attentions, then to Irial and his motivations, the disappearing High Lords of Rishell, and...

He heard the door to his chamber open. It was a bare whisper of sound, but his ears caught it distantly. Worse, striking his mind was a presence he definitely could have lived without early this morning...

Well, give the old girl points for persistence and an on-cue entrance, I suppose...

He sighed, looked at the dreaming Amelia again, and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before gently disengaging himself from her. She murmured at the loss of his warmth and presence, her brow furrowing. He laid his hand on her cheek, dipped lightly into her mind which was still open and receptive to him this morning.

*Sleep, Amy. It's nothing. I'm still here.*

Then he turned and went to see what Áinfean wanted.

II.

She was once again resplendent in white. The gown was somewhat more restrained than her ballgown had been. The top was not see-through even though the neckline was still very low cut. A shawl wrapped around her shoulders to ward off the chill of the morning air. Her wings were folded neatly on her back, low, not on display. Around her neck she wore a large round pendant with the seal of the Empress of Rishell on it, all the symbols of the Seven Houses worked into it, symbolizing that she was supposedly of all houses and of none. The Doctor couldn't help noticing, though, that into the pattern of her monochromatic gown were woven subtle stylized storm clouds, the sigil for the house that she had been raised from.

Just can't quite pull it off, can you? Just going to do it your own way, no matter what, aren't you? Spoiled petty child...

She had been standing at the arch looking out onto the balcony when he came through the tapestries that covered the dividing doors. Her face was slightly anxious despite what seemed like her obvious effort to keep it still. She took light dancing steps that crossed the distance that separated them, stopping in the middle of the large room, some distance still separating them as though her nervousness kept her from approaching.

Her eyes, however... Those cat eyes told another story. This was all a drama. There was nothing hesitant in those silver eyes.

Ah, Áinfean, you don't have nearly enough years on you for this. Go away, child, before you really make me angry...

She swept into a deep curtsy. He responded with a court bow. For a long moment, they just looked at each other silently. The Doctor refused to be the first to break the silence. He felt no pity for her. He refused to be a bit character in this little confection of theater.

You sought me. This was your idea. Your play, Empress.

Áinfean took a hesitant step toward him, stopped. "Doctor," she said, her usually rich musical voice sounding tired, softer than its wont, what he imagined she'd rehearsed as tragic, "I...about last night..."

He looked at her a moment. Ah. Yes. I see, now. Going to have that conversation, are we? Not in here, we're not. "The sun this morning is quite lovely, don't you think? Think I might like to just stand about in that..."

He folded his hands behind him, walked across the room and out onto the wide balcony that all the rooms on this floor shared. She followed him, pausing by the door, head down.

"I...I wanted to tell you that I shouldn't have done what I did last night. I shouldn't have taken things so far. You were the worse for the Lunacy, and I feel as though I took advantage. The fault for all of it lies with me. The bed, the kisses, my state of undress, everything that happened after, all of that was my fault."

The Doctor leaned his hands on the railing, looked down over the sprawling wilderness below him on this side of the Citadel. The sun-warmed stone felt good against his hands. The sun itself on his back and shoulders felt delightful. The false piety in the Empress' words did not sit as well with him.

"Too right it is. You'll get no sympathy from me. Look, Áinfean, what are you really here for?"

She paled a little, stepped closer to him, laid her little gloved hand on his arm. "Doctor, please, I am trying to apologize for last night. Had I known what would happen when I took you to my chambers, well, what happened would never have gone so far..." Her hand gripped his upper arm with tenacious strength. He dropped his gaze to it pointedly, and she blushed, removed her hand modestly, dropped her gaze.

Blimey, she's gone all Victorian on me, hasn't she? Far cry from naked temptress tackling me and groping at my zipper in the dark last night...

She took a step away from him and turned to look down the long run of the balcony. "Will you ever be able to forgive me for last night, Doctor? It was not my intention to make you unfaithful. I did not understand. You must believe me. On Rishell, we do not keep to one Mate the way you do. We have bondmates for companionship and for offspring, for the true secrets of our hearts, but for pleasure..." She turned again, stepped back to him, raised her eyes to him, shrugged, "As you so well know, we take that where we will." A slow cat-smile crossed her lips as she gently ran a fingertip down his lapel.

He scowled. Oh, this is much closer to the truth of her, now... "That's quite enough of that. Didn't I tell you..."

She sighed, cutting him off. "I know. I know. You said last night. I'm sorry. And I am sorry if my coming here this morning is in poor taste. I just could not bear the thought of our parting with ill-will between us after last night. Say all is well, Doctor. I will need your help with these disappearances."

He watched her warily. Her whole mood had shifted since they'd come out on the balcony. She seemed almost giddy now, almost as if she wanted to dance. Why? Why is she so happy now? What's she up to?

"Regardless of last night, Áinfean, I would have helped you, anyway. I..."

She cut him off again. "Good. Good. I just knew I could rely upon you. You'd never leave a lady in need, would you, Doctor?" Again, she was suddenly somehow standing far too close to him. Her voice was making those simple words sound like something...dirty...somehow. How did she do that? His scowl deepened, his mood darkening.

She turned to go, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He followed her across the chamber to the door leading into the main hall. Just as she reached it, she spun around again.

"I almost forgot!"

He had just taken a quick step back to avoid colliding with her, and now he looked at her uneasily.

"Forgot what?"

"Forgot this, Doctor. I knew you must be looking for it. You left it in my chambers last night when...well...you know..." She laughed musically. "When I sort of ripped it off you, didn't I?" She let that dangle in the air for a moment between them just like the bowtie he'd left in her room when he walked out now was. "I didn't know if you even had another with you, and I know you always wear it, so... We'll talk later about the disappearances, yes?" She dropped the bowtie from her two dainty fingers into his numb hands and then she danced out his door.

He shoved the door closed with more force than the gesture warranted, and leaned against it momentarily, one hand crushing the bowtie in a tight fist. Then he slowly turned around, still leaning against the ancient wood. His eyes were closed, but his mind was humming.

With all the reluctance in the world, he opened his eyes and looked at the tapestry that separated his room from Amelia's. He now knew just why Áinfean had come this morning, why she'd been so disgustingly happy with herself and the situation. She had come for revenge, and he had a feeling that she'd gotten it in spades. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, spoke.

"Are you planning to continue to stand there ticking like a time bomb a little longer, or would you like to come on out and commence the yelling now?"

III.

She woke up to find him gone and was disappointed. The sun streaming across the bed felt so good that she just stretched to the full length of her muscles and tendons for a moment and enjoyed the sensation. She didn't feel even the tiniest bit hung-over, something she'd feared given how sick she'd been the night before, only rested, calm, and she looked out the big windows at the brilliant blue sky.

Then she heard the voices. Curious, she'd gotten up, padded to the balcony door, and listened...

IV.

Amy flung the curtain back. She was so angry she couldn't even form words. Only images of violence tumbled from her mind into the Doctor's. He leaned his head back against the door, banging it softly again and again..

Yes, indeed. The perfect revenge. Damn clever little fairy tart. Owe her one for that, don't I?

"Amelia..." he began, his tone low and coaxing.

"Don't... you... bloody... Amelia...me!" she spat, crossing the room.

Going to be very bad. Oh yes. Very bad indeed.

She grabbed the other end of the tie he still held, tugged hard, fury etched into every line of her face. "Her? This? Why? And nakedeness? There was nakedness? Oh, you better explain, and it had by God better be the mother of all good explanations, I'm warning you right now!"

"Amy, I will be most happy to explain if you will just calm down just a little bit, sit down with me, and..." He tried gently to herd her toward a chair, toward the bed, toward someplace other than the door where she had him pinned. She would not, however, be moved.

"Calm? I AM CALM! THIS IS CALM!" She yanked the tie with each exclamation, and he felt his own irritation rising.

Caught in the middle of this again. Caught by a bloody scheming pissed-off elf and she is angry over something I didn't do and what about her and Irial last night? Hmm? Have I said one word about that? No, I have not... This is enough! I've had ENOUGH. I've tried to be nice to everybody about all of this, and I'm done. I'm just done.

He twisted the tie quickly around his hand, taking up slack until he reeled her in close to him. He spun her around and pressed her hard against the door with the weight of his body. She struggled against him trying to push him away, a sound of pure fury and frustration escaping her when she was unable to move him.

"Amy Pond," he growled, "do you really believe that I betrayed you with that loose bit of...of... fairy baggage?" His eyes bored into hers, seeking for the answer before she spoke it. Hers similarly searched his, looking for what she needed there. "Trust me, Amy," he whispered.

I could show it all to her, could give her the whole gory thing through the bond, could clear this up in about 10 seconds, but I need for her to trust me. I need...I need...

"You ask for that so often," she returned in the same quiet tone. "Sometimes it's so hard to do. Especially when all the evidence points in the other direction." Like right now, she thought. Like when I saw her and you all night, with her so beautiful and pressed up against you and... He heard it clear as a bell. Her eyes stayed riveted to his, deciding, deciding...

He considered, nodded. "But that's when it means the most, Pond. When all the world says guilty and you still believe anyway because you know me better than that, know that I'd never, ever hurt you..." Because, oh, Amy, there will be so many times that the world is going to say I'm bad or wrong or that I've done evil, and the evidence is going to be so much stronger than this, trust me, and if you can't decide that you trust me now... He held his breath, waited, watched, saw it flicker in her eyes, felt his hearts start to beat again, felt her hands stop pushing against him, start sliding up his chest to encircle his neck, and he lowered his mouth to hers with a sound of hunger mingled with endless relief.

V.

His need for her the night before had not been satiated, only deferred, and it returned now with a vengeance. The kiss, which started as something gentle, became something with a mind of its own, something wild, something a little savage. Her fingers tunneled into his hair, fisted to tug. It was not exactly gentle. He found he didn't exactly mind.

He growled against her mouth, and his hands left the door to skim down the curves of her body restlessly over the soft white gown the Rishellians had provided for her. She made a little noise of pleasure into his mouth when his hands covered her breasts through the thin fabric, and he caressed her firmly, palms cupping, massaging, all the while keeping her pressed back against the door.

Her desire was not less than his own. She wanted. She enticed him with kisses, flicking her tongue against his, dueling, retreating, encouraging him to pursue into the sweetness of her mouth, and when he did, she sucked hard, stroking his tongue with her own. Her hands found the lapels of his jacket, ripped them back. He took his hands from her long enough to strip the coat off, and then his hands were on her again, one coming up to cup her face, angle her and hold her still for hard, devouring kisses, the other sliding down once more to roll and caress the nipple peaked, aching, and waiting for his touch just beneath the thin white cotton. Her fingers found and dug in to his shoulders, her leg sliding up the outside of his own in invitation.

"Doctor," she panted, as his mouth left hers to find the sensitive places along her neck. Demand was in her tone, in her hands pulling at him. The high neckline of the gown obstructed his ability to kiss her where he longed to mark his claim, and he made a noise of frustration.

He stepped back slightly, looked into her eyes, put both his hands at the neckline of the gown, and tore it right down the middle. She sighed as he pulled the pieces off her arms, let them fall to the floor as they would, reached for him.

He lifted her slightly and she wrapped her legs around his waist, mewling softly as she felt the proof of his need for her pressing against her, even though his trousers and her knickers still separated them. She rocked her hips against him, biting her bottom lip, back arching as she writhed pinned between the heat and hardness of him and the cool smooth wood of the door, and he watched her take her pleasure until he could stand it no more, and he grabbed her hips to stop her.

He buried his face in her neck, lingeringly kissing that spot that marked her as his own, and then he leaned down and nuzzled first one nipple and then the other, flickering the hot tip of his tongue against them. He caught her eye as he did it, and she moaned, threading her fingers through his hair again. "That. Oh yes. That. Please. Right now. I want that, Doctor."

He opened his mouth and he sucked her hard and deep, and she jerked against him, hips twisting in his supporting hands as she rocked herself against him again. He let her buck, grind, slipped a fingertip around and down between them, up and under the damp lace-edged crotch of the panties into slick heat... He continued to lave the swollen bud of her nipple with his tongue, nipped her with his teeth unexpectedly, and she cried out, her head falling back as an orgasm hit her.

He turned with her still wrapped around him, her head lying limply on his shoulder as she panted, recovering, and he headed for the bed, laying her down gently in a pool of sunlight. He quickly stripped off the rest of his clothes, lay down on the bed beside her, ran his hand down her body to cup her possessively through her white cotton panties.

"Mine," he growled, and he had stripped the underwear off her, was moving to roll atop her to possess her when Amy lunged up at him, rolled him over on his back, pinned his arms to either side, settled down to straddle his stomach. She saw surprise followed by a surge of lust in his eyes, and he bared his teeth at her. She leaned down and took his mouth, sucking his bottom lip.

"Mine," she told him, looking him right straight in the eyes. His eyes flared supernova bright, and a strangled sound of desire escaped him, but he did not try to pull free of her grasp. She buried her face in his neck briefly, licked him then nipped him where she knew it would make him insane, and relished the twitch of his hips and the moan he could not control. His hands closed into fists that gripped the sheets tightly.

She looked him in the eyes again, whispered furiously as she positioned her body. "I don't know what happened last night, but whatever it was, I swear you won't bloody remember it in five minutes..." Her voice was low, a growl of her own, and the sound of it, the meaning of her words only aroused him further.

She lowered herself slowly down the massive length of him, body arching with pleasure until all of him was buried deep within. He was growling and twisting under her as she made her first measured rocking of her hips. She leaned forward, releasing his hands at last, and she kissed him. He met her, his newly-freed hands coming up to seize her, pull her down, desperation and hunger making the kiss volatile, incendiary. She put her hands in the middle of his chest, shoved back lightly. His eyes tracked over her predatorially, ran over the strawberry nipples crying out for the attentions of his mouth and hands, down to where she glistened wetly, spread around him, and his hips thrust in reflex to the visual stimulation. Then, suddenly, she ran her nails down his chest hard enough to raise light red lines, and he cried out, his eyes snapping to hers, black with barely-contained lust. "You watch this. You watch me take you deep and you remember." She slid up and she took him back in. His hand grasped her hips, and those words that would not translate were falling from his lips, but he watched. Oh yes. He watched.

Her voice came to him again, velvet and steel and pure possession, "You commit the feeling of this to memory, do you understand? You don't belong to anybody, ever, but me." His head thrashed as once again she slowly lifted her hips and with aching control, resheathed him. He felt her nails again on his chest, light little scratches as her body reacted to the pleasure of feeling him inside her. He watched her arch and shiver, felt her trembling slightly as his hands slid around to cup her firm derrière, hold her as she contracted around him, as she destroyed him...

She moaned, her control shaky, her own need almost swamping her, but she looked down into his eyes again, licked her lips, pushed her hair from her eyes with one hand. "After I'm done with you, you won't be able to chase winged tarts. You won't be able to cavort about in the middle of the night and leave things in the bedrooms of strange women. Because I'm about to use you up, Doctor."

He growled low, something in his own language, dark, vulgar, an invitation for her to take whatever she wanted however she wanted it, his hands tightening on her, his hips bucking restless under her, and still she controlled it, controlled him, made him wait, made him listen. "No. You don't get to say now. You get to listen to me. If you're not listening, you're not ready yet. And you have to be ready. Do you know why? Because I'm gonna grind you straight through this mattress so you will know..." She kissed him, rocked her hips softly. He was making a low, needy sound in his throat by the time she pulled her mouth from his.

"So you won't get confused again." She put her hand on his temple, started stroking soft, sensual circles. His head thrashed and his hips simply began to rock under hers, thrusting, his control gone.

*Anything, anything...Amelia...Amelia...Amelia...*

She smiled as she looked down, heard the litany of her name falling from his mind as she began to roll her hips atop his own, began to ride him hard. "That's right," she murmured. "Say my name. Because. You. Are. Mine."

And she proceeded to prove it most thoroughly to both their satisfactions.

VI.

He lay in a sweaty heap with Pond draped across him. He was grinning up at the ceiling like a fool, but he couldn't quite find a way to stop.

Eh, don't care. Just got completely jumped by my bondmate, savaged, and ridden like a New Lyrian stallion on holy raceday. I may indeed be bleeding from one or two of those little scratches she gave me when she rolled me on the top the first time and told me I'd better be good or else...

His grin got even bigger. Or else. And she actually finished the sentence. Oh my. Did she ever finish her sentences today. I suppose, in the future, I will have to just get her very angry and then put a bed nearby... Or. Wonder what she'd do if there were no bed... Hmmm...

Amelia laughed hazily with her face pressed into the curve his shoulder. "You're not really thinking about winding me up just to have slightly violent, really dirty sex on a regular basis, are you?" She shifted a little and raised her head to look at him in disbelief.

He arched one brow, tried to keep a straight face, couldn't do it, started laughing.

She sighed, put her head back down. "You. You're impossibly silly, you know." She opened her mouth and bit him very gently there where her mark already shown sharply in contrast with his pale skin.

He shivered and ran his hand down her spine, his laughter disappearing. "Careful, Amelia. Keep that up, and you know what it will get you..."

She smiled against his skin. "Isn't that a bit like telling somebody not to push the big red button that has 'Push Me' written on it?" She shifted her body against his, gently, lightly grazed his neck with her teeth again.

He rolled her under him, looked down into her eyes. "Let me guess. You'd push that button, wouldn't you?" He was hard and ready for her again, and he rested his aroused length against her, flexed his hips gently. She sighed as he slipped over her, against her, his hardness teasing her.

"Oh yes. That's me. I am a button pusher." She arched back as he kissed her neck, brought his mouth down to the swells of her breasts, kissed the curves of them as his hips lazily rocked, no sense of urgency in their motion.

He laughed softly against her skin, nuzzling her nipple. "Mmm... You know what? I've been known to push a few buttons in my day, too. Let me show you..." He began to suckle her deeply, rolling the flat of his tongue over the sensitive bud, and she sighed with the sensation.

"You're right...You're good with the buttons," she purred.

"Oh, but wait," he murmured, rolling them to the side, coaxing her leg over his hip. "You haven't seen anything, yet. Let me show you my A game." He kissed her again, slipped his fingertip between her legs, seeking until he found the swollen bud of her and she groaned into his mouth. She felt him smile against her lips. He began to stroke, circle, tease, and caress her until she broke the kiss, head falling back, hips restlessly pumping against his relentless hand until her whole body tightened and she shuddered.

"Good," she husked. "Good with the buttons that say, 'Push Me.' You definitely win the gold star." She kissed him softly, rested her head on his shoulder once again, was slipping into sleep when she heard his voice at her ear.

"You know, there's another kind of label on some buttons, Pond."

She opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Really."

"Mmm-hmmm." He was rolling her onto her back. She laughed.

"What do those buttons say?"

He was sliding down her body, and he pressed a kiss to her navel, ran his hands up the inside of her thighs to push them gently apart. She felt a searing frisson of heat as his summer green eyes flicked up to hers and he smiled. "What? Can't you guess? Surely you've read your Alice. They say, 'Eat Me.'" He lowered his head and licked her with a long slow stroke of his tongue that had her raising her hips to his mouth. He grinned wickedly. "I'm awfully good with those, too, Pond," he said in a confidential tone, and then he got busy showing her.

And this update ought to satisfy everybody. A couple of answers to a couple of reviews and for those of you who've thought it and haven't said it: Yeah, there are problems with their bond. Yeah, she should know his name and some other stuff, too. Yeah, he does know that. They are going to work on that next chapter. Well, if they can stop...um...pushing the buttons... (clears throat, looks away).

Will there be a throwdown with Áinfean? Is Irial good or bad? Will Amy go to Raven House? What about the cat people? The disappearing Rishellians? The ridiculously ornate setting? It's all connected, folks. It's all coming back around. I hope you're enjoying the slow ride...