A/N: Pure pie. Call it pumpkin in honor of the holiday season. If you don't like that, I'd skip this chapter. I'm encapsulating it here because the other chapter got SO long and because some folks like all plot, no pie. (and I know some of you are fans of pure dessert, too...) Oh, so very, very, very M. M+.

Sex relieves tension - love causes it. ~Woody Allen

I.

He'd warned her that he would not be gentle. He'd warned her that he could not be patient, that the instincts that were riding him were dangerous, were hungry.

The warning had been inadequate at best.

His hands left her wrists to drag her against him as he gave in to his desire with a little groan. He spun them so she was pinned between him and the door. She gasped with the suddenness of the maneuver even though she'd seen in his eyes that the last of his reserve was gone, had known that he was about to move. He lifted her by the waist as though she weighed nothing, and she was reminded of that strength he carried hidden inside his lean frame. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he grunted in satisfaction, hips rocking gently.

Prelude... this...this..is just the prelude...

He twisted the fingers of his right hand into the hair at the nape of her neck, angling her head and studying her for just a moment before his mouth claimed hers. There was no delicate tasting, no gentle dance. He plunged his tongue in deeply, and she felt her knees go weak at the demand, the need... Through the bond, she felt the satisfaction he felt at taking her this way, the overwhelming aching need he had for her, and his fever became hers, consumed her. All that he wanted, she wanted, too.

She felt his hands trace down her, fingertips encountering the bodice of the black dress. He broke the kiss, looked down at it, bared his teeth, muttered something in that language she did not know, and suddenly her dress was gone. She barely had time to process it, because as soon as the offending garment had disappeared, he had shifted her slightly higher so he could take the peak of one breast deep into his mouth with no other prelude at all. She arched back, pinned between his mouth and the door, hands coming up to grasp at his head, his shoulders, hold him to her as he laved her, suckled her.

She cried out as she felt the harsh nip of his teeth, and she pulled at his hair. He made a savage sound against her, soothing his aggression with his tongue as he hitched his hips insistently against her. Her nails dug into tweed. She would have preferred that they had left marks in the pale loveliness of his shoulders...

Why clothes? Your clothes? Why? She thought at him frantically, brokenly. She wanted him, wanted him now, damnit...

And the offending garments were gone. And his hands were hard, spread across her derrière to position her, and he slid slickly against her, was inside her as suddenly as that. They cried out together at the feeling of being rejoined, their eyes meeting, each unable to look away from what they could see growing in the other's. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she'd wanted moments earlier, marking him, and the smile she gave him was fierce, dangerous, provoking. He bucked in response, and she made a noise of approval. His hands on her hips held her steady as he began to drive into her. His thrusts were deep, frantic, furious, slamming her back against the door, and this furor only spurred her on. In moments, she felt her body tightening around his, and she screamed as the climax hit her.

She heard him speaking again, saying again something she could not understand, and he turned her away from the door, still embedded deeply inside her as he carried her to the bed, laid her down, and resumed the rhythm of his thrusts, pulling first one leg and then the other over his shoulders. "Deeper," he muttered, kissing her as though to demonstrate. "More, want...want...everything...going to make you..." and his words became Gallifreyan again, his hips pounding her, his fingers twining with hers to hold hers down to the bed. He dropped his mouth to her neck and she felt his lips press against that place that seemed to hunger for his claim. She rolled her head to the side, but he did not mark her. Instead, he suddenly slipped a finger between them and unerringly found the swollen bud of her. He brought his mouth back to hers to drink in her cries with feasting kisses as he continued to drive into her with those hard, ceaseless strokes and lazily circle and slide across that slick button with his wicked fingertips until the orgasm came over her so hard that she simply did not know where she was for long moments.

Pleasure brought her back, a long hot stroke of his cat-velvet tongue on her over-sensitive flesh. She moaned weakly, hips arching, and he growled, hands sliding down her thighs to shove her legs wider apart as he buried his face where she was wet, swollen. "Mine," he murmured against her. He was relentless, would not be deterred, and when she tried to pull him away from her because the sensation was becoming too much, she understood for the first time what he'd meant... "I want too much..."

Wave after wave of pleasure so intense it undid her as he flickered his tongue over the sensitive little nub he had drawn between his lips... She'd managed to reach down, press her fingers against his temples as the climax had hit her, had felt his body shudder in return... Something for what's Mine... she'd thought and felt him lightly nip her thigh...

*Want what's Yours? Have it, then... Or are you all mouth and trousers, Pond?*

And he'd turned on the bed, cat-lithe, cat-nimble, rolled so that she now straddled his face, stared down at the temptation of what was Hers. She could feel the paralyzing satin sin of that tongue flickering between her thighs again, rocked her hips in helpless response, and reached out a bold hand to trace it down the line of his jutting erection.

Well, I guess...I guess I'm all mouth...you're going to have to supply the trousers bit... and she bent down to illustrate her point...

Then, later, unbearable delight electrifying and destroying her as he slipped first one, then another finger inside her, mesmerized as he lay beside her watching her body tighten around the digits he so skillfully manipulated her with as his thumb slowly, slowly ground against that swollen bundle of nerves, taking her to peak and keeping her there, endlessly, with the tiniest changes of his motion... "Just to hear you screaming my name, Amelia, just to hear you...screaming...my...name...," he'd whispered, hot rush of seduction against her ear before he'd sucked the lobe between his lips, tugged it lightly. And how she'd screamed for him, oh how she'd screamed...

And then before she'd even had time to recover, he'd rolled her over face-down onto the bedding, pulling her hips up to meet his own as he knelt behind her. Oh yes...he warned me...he said that he wanted too much and that...that..he wouldn't be able to stop... He slid over her once, paused just there at the opening, and drove into her in a hard, fast sudden stroke that took her breath away entirely. She moaned at the feeling of being connected to him again, rolled her face into the pillows, fingers grasping at the remaining bedclothes as she groaned, feeling his desire firing hers through their bond. But do I care? No...I do not...

She had reached a place where everything was pleasure, where every gesture was laced with those strands of starfire that he alone seemed to weave. She came again, felt him pulling her upright, felt her back encounter the warm expanse of his chest as his hands cupped her breasts, felt his hips continuing to rock beneath her own. There was an urgency now in his thrusts that had not been there before, and she recognized this position from the night in the little hidden room before the fire, that other night when their combined need had been insatiable. She reached up behind her, wrapped her arms around his neck and felt the desire that had been driving him all night begin to crest at last.

So good...it's so good we may not survive it...I don't know what it is about this that he prefers, but...but...

One of his clever hands slipped down between their joined bodies, found the place to intensify pleasure...

...ah...but...I'm not...complaining...

She felt him bury his face in her neck, rolled her head to the side.

Please... Please... Somehow, no matter how much he touched her, it wasn't going to be enough, it was going to be hollow without this...

He nuzzled, pressed a closed mouthed kiss there, and she shuddered. They were both so close... Then, suddenly, he opened his mouth, and she felt him mark her even as his other arm slipped up and around her waist to hold her as his hips broke rhythm, hitched hard against her.

*Mine. Amelia. Beloved. Bondmate.* "Mine!"

His hoarse shout mixed with her keening cry. They collapsed on the destroyed bedding, and he pulled her tightly into his arms.