Chapter Text
"We have all the time in the world. Time enough for life to unfold all the precious things love has in store.”- Louis Armstrong
It isn’t lust that guides them into the bedroom, not to say the hand on her hip isn’t heavy with promise or the way his mouth moves against hers doesn’t make her tingle down in her toes. They are drawn to the room by want of discovery, to uncover and explore each other in all the ways they never could.
The longer her tongue sweeps against his own, the sweeter he tastes. He's different from the man she knew. He's lighter, happier, carefree, as he fumbles with the door handle like he's forgotten his hands have uses apart from touching her.
River feels different, too. She isn’t greedy with her kisses. Her fingers don't itch with the need to claw down his back, to mark and brand him. Her teeth don't beg to sink into the soft flesh of his neck, a plea to stay and punishment for impending departure. She doesn’t have to take what she can get before it expires. Their love is no longer on a deadline.
Instead, she kisses him through grinning lips as she attempts to help his cause. Their fingers wrap around the cool metal and twist, pushing against the barrier. The wooden obstacle has grown stubborn and stiff from disuse. With a soft, mournful groan, the Doctor removes his hand from her hip to press against the door. River shifts her hips forward, fleetingly brushing against him before using her bum to thump back against the obstacle. The final shove is enough to make the door give way, springing open as they stumble gracelessly into the room.
A rush of familiar air surrounds her like sinking into warm water, wafts of his aftershave swirling around spritz of her perfume. The aroma of biscuits and timeworn books fills empty spaces, old memories stirred up like dust as they clamber across the carpeted floor. Their lips never part, little pecks and curious nibbles interspersed between giggles and snorts as they aimlessly search for the bed. They are patient in their endeavor, never hurried or rushed.
Their shoes are disposed of first, stepping out of them or haphazardly kicking them off to the side as they stagger though the dimly lit room. River runs lazy hands over his chest and abdomen, fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt and tugging until it hangs loosely around his waist. The Doctor repays the favor, fingers that had been tracing sweet nothings into her lower back now fisting around the hem of her top.
Even as they break the kiss, River takes no notice of the room around them. She counts the colors lurking in his hazel eyes. Pools of brown and streaks of blue and flashes of yellow, the depths of his irises more magnetic than the pull of a black hole, engulfing, consuming. His gaze pierces her like stars in a moonless sky. His smile as humble as a lone ship lost to the vastness of the sea. Where once such scrutiny would have made her feel vulnerable and lacking, as if he were searching for something she did not possess, now she only feels accepted, loved, whole.
He hauls her shirt up, meaning to pull it over her head, but it catches just above her eyes, blindfolding her. Arms raised and tangled in cloth, he continues to kiss her. She is both trapped and safer than she has ever been, his arms sliding down her back to cradle her to him. His mechanic’s hands have become calloused from nights spent beneath the TARDIS console; but those fingers have learned grace, too, the pressure of his palms gentle and insistent as he pulls her ever closer.
There is nothing but leisure and ease in the way he kisses her, taking advantage of her blindfolded state, using flicks of his tongue as bait to lure her in. His mouth continues to tease her, a throaty hum of amusement escaping him every time she chases the pressure of his lips. Eventually, his smug mouth gets too close; and when he does, River surges forward, capturing his bottom lip between her teeth. Letting out a low, triumphant chuckle, she drags the tender flesh between her teeth.
The back of River’s knees find the bed just as the Doctor leans in to steal a kiss, the sudden stop combined with the Doctor’s eager advance causing the pair to lose balance, their bodies careening backwards as a muffled squeak escapes River’s lips. He lands atop her, the weight of him more warm and secure than any blanket, his grin against her cheek more comforting than a hot beverage on a cool day. The graceless way he wiggles to free himself more endearing than any romantic poem. Oh, how she's missed him, all of him, right down to his goofy grins and fumbling limbs.
When he sits up to right himself, the absence of him leaves her abnormally cold. So she chases him like summer does the spring, leaning forward to free herself from her shirt and toss it to the floor. Her nimble fingers reach for him, about to make short work of his vest when she notices his eyes are no longer fixed on her. Her diary lies next to her on the bed, where it must have slipped from her pocket when they landed. His eyes are locked on the blue leather like he's witnessed something holy fall from grace. The Doctor scoops it up, the gentle hands that had held her now tracing reverently over the worn cover.
The sight of it makes River’s hearts flutter out of her chest, lodging in the back of her throat. For all the shackles their back to front lives placed on them, there was safety to be found in the web they weaved. She knew what to expect from him and where she stood. She became accustomed to just passing through. And now that the strings have been cut, this weightless freedom feels a bit like falling.
Wave after wave of thoughts flood her mind, haphazard and chaotic. She wonders if she'll catch him sneaking peaks in that foreboding blue book. Will he curl up with it from time to time and bask in the frayed pages that once frightened him? Will he expect her to travel with him now? Will he play house husband while she grades papers? Will he come to her lectures or shag her up against her office desk? When they fight, will he still overcompensate with his apologies? Will he buy her every flower in the nearest shop and come up with bigger, grander gestures, each one more remarkable than the last? Will he still want to whisk her away to far off places? Will he still show up on her doorstep with haircuts and fancy suits? Will he park his TARDIS in her flower bed and hog the covers when he sleeps? What will time make of them now, when they can no longer wear spoilers like armor? A whole linear future is laid out before them and it’s more terrifying than any Dalek fleet or Cyber legion.
He must hear her thoughts or read her worries in the way her hands shake because his mouth finds hers once again. And the pressure of his lips is so sure and persistent that all her doubts disappear. The worries congealing in her chest melt like warm butter, dripping down her insides and coating her with something new. The feeling swells between her hearts, burning the muscles and scorching her bones, and in this moment, she knows what it feels like to be loved so much it hurts.
There's a dash of hesitance in his smile and relief in his shaky exhale that says he still can't believe he gets to do this, that's she's really here. She kisses him harder, ensuring that neither of them will ever have cause to doubt again.
The need for air is the only thing that bids them to part, their heavy breaths panting as he says, “I never thought we’d have this. Even after I found you again, I never thought you’d want it.”
“What’s not to want?” she asks with baited, earnest breath, her hands coming up to stroke across his cheeks.
His eyes flash with a sadness she thought had been banished the moment they stumbled behind closed doors. And yet, as he leans away from her once more to place her diary on the bedside table, the tone of his voice tells her he’s asking for forgiveness he doesn’t think he deserves. "I’ve never been fair to you, never been good enough.”
Rebuttal is hot on her tongue, but the Doctor is quicker, quieting her protests with a truth she never thought she’d hear.
“The pictures in your home and office,” he sighs, settling on his knees, his eyes skirting over her features like she’s a map he means to memorize. “All those people I don’t know and places we’ve never seen together, all those things in front of me that I never stopped to see, all those sides of you I left undiscovered. It was precious time wasted. I’ll do better this time.”
River’s face softens, a tension she hadn’t realized she held escaping her body in one heavy exhalation. “Then prove it.”
His gaze narrows on her soft, playful smile, a joyous infection lifting the corners of his own lips. River arches an impatient brow and he’s on her in a moment, practically pouncing on her as he pushes her back into the mattress. His lips descend on her, speckling kisses across her face, cheeks, and eyes until River swats at him, delight bubbling out of her throat in a sound she’ll never admit is a giggle.
She takes to stroking her hands along his forearms and biceps. They are wiry and lithe and the fabric of his shirt catches against her lightly calloused hands. Her nails dig into the cloth, willing it away, yearning for the feel of his soft, creamy skin and the flexing muscles beneath. The Doctor continues his assault, but his advances slow, peppering lingering kisses to her brows, the tip of her nose, and down the line of her jaw. His nose brushes against her cheek and River suppresses another giddy noise, goosebumps pricking her skin. His lips further their exploration, dropping to her neck and sucking lightly on her pulse point. River hums, the laughter hidden in the back of her throat hinging on the brink of a low moan. The noise encourages him, his teeth nibbling at her ear as his fingers drop to toy with the hem of her trousers. River arches in encouragement, lifting her hips up and into his hands.
“I came straight here, you know," he whispers into her throat, undoing the button of her jeans. “After dropping you off at the base, I was eager to get to you, to not let you get away again. I was so sure that...” he pauses and she can feel the way his brow pinches, how he inhales the scent of her hair like it might give him strength. “I thought you'd never-"
He lets out a long sigh, but River remains quiet, observing him carefully as he sits back up on his knees. She doesn’t follow him this time. She lets him look at her, watches as his eyes burn across her skin. They follow the sharp line of the collarbone, the gentle swell of her breasts. They skip across her ribs, down to her navel. She tracks his tongue as it snakes out across his lips like a starving predator.
His head dips, planting a wet kiss just above her hip bone as one of his hands cups her clothed breast. And if she thought his gaze was burning, then his touch is an inferno. Even through her bra, she pebbles under his palm instantly, the hardened nipple reaching out for more, begging for his touch. He obliges her with a soft squeeze. It's nowhere near as rough as she normally likes, but tonight isn't about bruised skin and sloppy kisses. Tonight is testimony of the time laid out before them. Tonight is tender. Tonight is patient. His mouth finds her other breast, pressing hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses through the lacy fabric. The dampened cloth brushes her skin, still warm from the heat of his breath. River finds herself arching under the intimate touch, that familiar flame in her belly finally taking spark.
He stokes the fire, each breath against her skin fanning the flames until there is heat licking her insides. He takes his time exploring her, mouth lingering in the valley between her breasts, hands trailing over her naked skin, sliding over the bumps of her ribs, exploring the curve of her waist and flare of her hips. Those long fingers tickle across her belly, delighting in the way her muscles clench in anticipation. They curl under her waistband, all patience and promise, sliding her trousers and knickers down her legs in one smooth motion.
Her clothing puddles on the floor and no sooner are his hands on her body again. Fingers dragging along her calves and the sensitive dip in her knee, up the outside of her thighs and back down the tops. It’s reverent, like she is some angelic thing; but the feeling spreading within her is anything but innocent. It is wanton and needy and born of somewhere deep inside her, somewhere primal that demands to be sated.
It’s been too long since she's been touched by him, felt the weight of his body on hers, reveled in the heat of his mouth ghosting over secret places, writhed under the hunger in his eyes, moaned and gasped out her pleasure as he buried himself inside her.
But he’s never touched her like this. No one has. His hands on her are more than want and need. They echo his confessions, tender and heart felt. He isn’t just ravishing her. He is making good on his promise, exploring her, making sure that no inch of her goes undiscovered. From now on it will always be like this, the slow tick of infinity around them and nothing to keep them apart spare the hot breath expelled from their lungs.
The Doctor places a chaste kiss to her inner thigh and River gives an involuntary shiver, her legs falling open in invitation. Her skin chills at the fresh burst of cool air, but the hands he splays across her body are warm. He gazes up at her from between her legs and those hazel eyes are staring at her in a way she’s never seen. He's never looked at her this way before, without a terrible secret shadowing his eyes, like he’s never seen her so clearly. She is practically bare beneath him while he is still fully clothed. And yet, as his voice shakes over words that have never been said, she can't help but wonder which one of them is truly naked.
"When you insisted on handling it alone," he whispers into the skin of her inner thigh, two fingers crawling up to stroke over her core. River’s eyes flutter shut at the soft touch, the sound of his voice the only thing tying her to sanity. "I thought you were giving me the slip. I wasn't sure you'd bother with me after you got your memories back."
His fingers continue to stroke her, sliding around that little bundle of nerves until it's begging for his attention. His slow, repetitive motions fill her body with the same tension he must have felt these past few weeks, strung taut just hoping for the slightest touch, arching into every passing movement, eager for contact.
"After you remembered all the things I've put you through..." His fingers stall and River barely bites back a whimper. The Doctor takes in a deep breath of air, as if drinking in the smell of her skin will fill his lungs with the right words to say. "I wasn’t sure that you’d want me now that predestination didn’t dictate it."
Lost in a haze of confession and touch, it takes a moment for his honesty to wake her, for the roar in her belly to settle at a simmer. It’s only when the lust dwindles that she realizes he thought she wasn’t coming back, that she wouldn't want him now that she was free of some preconceived obligation. The idiot, it's never been about that. She still can't fathom it, that for even a moment he would doubt her want to choose him. But he had. It seems all along they'd shared the same fear.
Like gravity, she is pulled to him. River sits up and the Doctor’s hands fall from her instantly, his worried eyes fixed on her as if he’s done something wrong. She soothes him with a smile, one hand brushing over his cheek as she mirrors his kneeled position. As River’s hands fall to his chest, the Doctor sits back on his heels, surrendering to the soft press of her palms. He lets her have her turn, stripping him, exposing inch by inch of his pale skin.
Her hands are just as reverent and gentle as his as they pluck at the buttons of his vest. She puts his mind at ease, sharing memories that had always comforted her in dark moments.
“Calderon Beta,” she says quietly, hearts fluttering as if she were imparting some grand secret. “Boring. Planet of the chip shops.” There’s a smile hiding in her green eyes as they momentarily catch his. He’s smiling, too, puzzled and amused as he listens to her recount his own words. “But there is a four hundred foot tree growing out of a clifftop on the north side of a mountain in the middle of the sea. And if you take the lift to the top and look up, at exactly twelve minutes past midnight on the 21st of September, 2360, you can see more stars in one sky than at any other moment in the history of the universe.” She pauses, undoing the last of his buttons and sliding the material off his shoulders. “It’s like daylight, only magic.”
A nostalgic smile tugs at his lips. “You could read a book by it.”
She moves her attentions to his bowtie next. It’s as silky as the day he wrapped it around her wrist, and she finds herself unable to completely swallow back the lump in her throat. “You didn’t have to come for me that night. Timelines were fixed and the demands of history had been sated. You knew I’d keep your secret and that those prison bars would never hold me for long. You could have left me there, guilt free. We could have just gone our separate ways. But you didn’t.”
Both their eyes are fixed on her movements, hypnotized as she wraps the material around the palm of her right hand.
“You swooped in with a fancy white suit and a promise to show me the stars,” River continues, fighting the way her cheeks threaten to flush crimson. “I never expected you’d… I never dreamed you’d honor that ceremony, that it actually meant something to you.”
The Doctor’s chest swells, jaw dropping like he means to speak. River silences him with a meaningful look. It’s her turn to bare her soul.
“I know what you’re like with marriages,” she laughs lightly, fingers now working their magic on the buttons of his shirt. “It’s practically a pastime for you. Why would ours be any different? And then you stole me away and told me I’d never, ever change. And what’s more is, you looked at me like you never wanted me to, like you wanted me with wild hair and prison sweats and combat boots for the rest of our lives. You took me, just me, to see a sky full of a million stars. Just one place to see it, one time, one chance, and you chose me. I knew right then that I meant more to you than just fulfilling a timeline.”
His arms hang limp at his sides, his eyes fixed on her like he’s forgotten how to do anything else, how to move or breathe or think. All he knows is the sound of her voice as it fills the empty air around them. His shirt undone, she slides her palms up the flat pane of his stomach and chest, fingers dragging over the sharp line of his collarbone before draping over his shoulders and ridding him of his top.
"It didn’t matter if I married you or murdered you.” Her nails graze teasingly over his pecs and abdomen as she makes her way back down his now bare torso. He is hot to the touch and goosebumps pebble his skin in the wake of her fingers. When she gets to his waistband, her nails toy and tease around the sensitive skin of his belly, scratching at his hip bones until one of the Doctor’s hands remembers how to move, burying itself in her hair to cup the side of her face. “Sod fate,” River declares with a smile. “I've never been one for prophecy. I make my own destiny and I chose you every step of the way. You've given me more good days than I can fathom, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything."
His grip in her hair tightens in agreement. Whether he's encouraging her words or the clever way her nails swirl filthy High Gallifreyan into his skin, she can't be sure.
She carries on with both, her fingertips plucking at the button of his trousers as she coos, "Remember that time we spent a week stranded in the Arborian Forest?"
His abdomen tenses just at the thought and a grin steals its way across River’s cheeks. Emboldened, she continues her descriptive tale, a single finger nail scrapping across the zip until she feels him twitch through the fabric.
"When you accidentally ate those aphrodisiac berries?” she reminds him, a throaty, positively wicked laugh rolling out of her lips as she says, “You were practically insatiable.”
“Well, it didn’t help that you kept skinny dipping in the creek. Bloody exhibitionist.”
For his cheek, River cups him none too gently through his trousers, causing the Doctor to squeak as she leans in close to purr, “I don’t recall any complaints from you at the time. In fact, I remember quite a bit of begging.”
Her lips brush tauntingly against his, and as she pulls away, the Doctor follows fruitlessly after. He whines slightly, but River only encourages the pout on that handsome baby face by slipping her hand down beneath his waistline and running her fingers over every inch of him except the places he wants her most.
“’Oh, please, River,’” she coos, only slightly mocking as she repeats the desperate pleas he’d given her in that forest. “’I need you, River. Your mouth, your hand, anything, just please. Let me feel you.'"
The Doctor gives a whimper that hinges on a moan, memory and need willing his other hand to find a bruising grip on River’s hip. Her hands retaliate by reaching around to grab a fistful of his bum. The action causes his hips give an involuntary little thrust, and River smirks to see it.
“I need you now,” he growls in her ear, and River takes mercy on him, popping open the button of his trousers and dragging the zip slowly downward. A sigh of shaky relief floods from his lungs and River leans into it, dropping kisses to his jaw.
"You made me scream my throat raw,” she breathes, letting her confession ghost across his neck. "I couldn't speak above a whisper for days."
He swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing, begging her teeth to sink into that sensitive flesh. She licks at his pulse point instead, tasting his sweat slicked skin as she pushes his trousers and pants down his slender hips. Lower and lower they slide, freeing him from the cloth prison. His cock springs to attention and River’s mouth waters to see it, hard and proud and eager, all for her.
“I must admit,” she hums, a dark little chuckle that means nothing but trouble slipping out from between her lips, the sound of it making Doctor shudder. “I did admire your enthusiasm.” She tears her hungry stare from his erection and meets his eyes, something wicked hiding behind her Cheshire Cat smile. “And after a week of non-stop shagging, well, I’ve never been so satisfied.”
Her hands find their way to his shoulders, wrapping around them and toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. He must take her statement as a challenge because the Doctor’s eyes are lidded and dark as his fingers graze up and down River’s side, dancing along the exact spot where he knows she's ticklish.
"Let's see if we can do something about that." The words rumble out of his mouth in a low, gruff voice, making River squirm in a way that has nothing to do with his teasing fingers. His lips find her neck, sucking lightly as his hands reach around to unclasp her bra. Those same fingers slide up her shoulders, wrapping around the strap and sliding the material down her arms. He tosses the garment away, mouth leaving a trail of wet kisses across the curve of her neck and shoulder.
The violet veins that track beneath her skin have all but faded now. The Doctor’s lips seek them out anyway, his tongue darting out to run along the paths they carve as if he could will the marks away with soft, loving licks. He pays the same aching attention to her collar bone, teeth grazing across the protruding lines until he finds the hollow of her throat. He nips at her there, just enough to feel the pressure of his teeth, to make her breath catch before he continues his path down her sternum. The skin there tingles like it remembers him, the healed cells calling to his mouth and tongue.
River tilts her head back, a low moan trapped behind sealed lips. She should be cross at him for giving her the last of his energy. And yet, she can't help the way her thoughts flutter back to Berlin, his body sprawled out across the marble floor, her fault, her actions that led to this. And yet, he offers only forgiveness and opportunity. He spins possibilities of free will, of a future where he knows her as more than a pawn in someone else's game. She wants that. She wants River Song and the Doctor and the days that could be. She wants a second chance. She wants him to breathe again. She wants her lives to be what puts air back in his lungs and life in his eyes.
How can she blame him for wanting what she did, a second chance?
"Can I tell you something?” he asks, lingering over the skin there. River hums, both in regard to his question and the way his fingers skirt along her chest, making torturous circles around her nipples. She pebbles under his ministrations, arching into his barely there touch. It's only when he stops to cup the delicate flesh, lightly kneading each breast that she notices his hands are shaking. "I’ve never been more terrified than when you sided with those mercenaries. When you said you didn’t want your memories, I thought that was my worst fear realized."
River’s hands card through his hair, pushing back his floppy locks as she smiles down at him, warm and sweet. "There's no need to be afraid."
"Oh, River," a light puff of laughter escapes his lips, warming the valley between her breasts. His eyes lift to find hers, vulnerable and dark with need as he says, "You terrify me, now more than ever. I’ve always been waiting for the bottom to drop, always half expecting you to realize you’re too good for me. But when they shot you, when your hearts stopped..." His voice fails him, brow pinching as he buries his face in her chest, seeking strength in the cushion of her breasts. "That was my worst fear realized. To have you back, to have you alive only to watch you die again, I wouldn’t survive it.”
The first swells of moisture mist in her eyes and River’s nails dig into his scalp. His head dips downward, counting her rib bones with kisses and tracing the curve of her pelvis with his tongue, his hands smoothing up and down her back and bum and thighs.
She doesn't miss the way he kisses her like she's glass, a menagerie of hopes and dreams and a future he's always wanted. She sees so much more than she used to. She sees that he wanted vengeance against those mercenaries, not because of the crimes they committed against him, but because of what they did to her. They tried to take her from him. They stopped the hearts beating in her chest, the only things belonging to him that matter. She sees that he avoided her Professor days like the plague, not because he was bored of her, but because hearing her say the title must have felt like digging her grave.
She's feels nothing but pity for him, her heart sick from the burden he had to bear. She is humbled and awed by him, by the strength it must have taken him to know her, to love her, to give his hearts to her, all the while knowing she was something he could never keep. How much must it have hurt to watch her live while all along he knew exactly how she would die?
She sees now that his younger selves pushed her away as an act self-preservation. She realizes it was not age that made his older versions shy away, it was the burden of knowledge and the impending toll of a bell she could not hear.
She sees that his anger at her for taking on those mercenaries alone hadn't stemmed from lack of faith or doubt. It wasn't that he didn't trust her; he only feared for her safety because now, losing her is an option more real than ever before. He feared she would slip through his fingers before they even had the chance to properly touch.
That thought alone spurs her need to be closer to him. Fingers curling tightly into his hair, River drags him to her for an urgent kiss, her needy mouth claiming his. Her sudden eagerness makes him gasp, sucking in a sharp breath before wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her like he wants to burrow into her bones, like he's been waiting for the snap of her fingers that gave him permission to devour her whole.
His tongue probes at her mouth like he can learn her from the inside out, discover her all over again. One of his clever hands drops to her backside, hauling her hips into his. His naked body is warm against hers, all soft skin, sharp edges, and racing hearts. His arousal is pressed into her thigh and River cants her hips, desperate for friction. The Doctor gladly obliges, giving her bum a final squeeze before dragging his hand away. His fingers follow the curve of her hip, dancing over the sensitive skin of her belly. His mouth is hungry against hers, nipping and licking at her lips and tongue like he’ll never be sated.
Though his mouth burns with need, his fingers are agonizingly slow in their pursuit to travel down, down, down. When he reaches the curls between her thighs, River moans openly, nearly undone by the simple touch. His fingers slide against her, slickened by the moisture there. The silky feel of it rips a moan from the back of the Doctor’s throat, his hips rutting against her of their own needy accord. River retaliates by thrusting against his hand, wanton and insistent. The Doctor takes the hint, gladly plunging two fingers deep inside her.
River breaks away from their heated kiss, gasping at the delicious intrusion. His fingers stretch and fill her, sending a wave of warmth that tingles from the ends of her hair to the tips of her toes. He works his fingers exactly how she likes, rough and fast and relentless, until she is panting and keening and burying her face in his neck. Sparks explode behind her eyes with every curl of his fingers, and River basks in the pleasure that ripples throughout her body in waves.
“God, sweetie,” River moans, the endearment hitching in her throat as her nails dig into his skin. He nips at her, knowing exactly what she needs, the sharp pain of it tying her to the here and now as his fingers work her up up up. Her teeth sink into his shoulder, marking him, and the Doctor groans, fingers picking up their pace.
“I missed hearing you say that," he pants against her cheek. The fingers of his other hand thread through her hair, tangling in her tousled curls. The dull pain only makes her senses sharper as he tugs lightly, just enough to make her chin tilt back, exposing her throat. “I missed hearing you moan my name like it was sin itself. I missed making you call out to deities you don’t believe in.” His ragged breath against her ear is primal, his voice wicked and filthy and raw with desperation. “Will you say it for me again, River? Can I hear how much you missed the way my fingers move inside you?”
She means to speak, to answer him with a string of swears that would make a sailor blush. She means to shout her appreciation for his talented tongue and relentlessly probing fingers, to make his insides coil and cock twitch with all the plans she has for that wicked mouth for his. She means to tell him things that will make his toes curl, but the only sounds that leave her mouth are whimpers. Choked and needy and breathless as half-formed demands and desires crawl their way up from her core.
He rewards her by pressing his thumb to her clit, making small, circular motions. River’s knees begin to shake, her inner walls helpless but to clamp around his fingers, drawing him deeper. Swears tumble from her lips and her insides quiver, her vision going black at the edges because, god, it feels so good. She traps herself there, locked in the haze of pleasure that proceeds glorious release. She holds herself here because she does not want to come like this. When she finally topples over, she wants it to be with more than his fingers thrusting inside her. She wants his hands in her hair and his cock buried deep inside her core so he can feel how he makes her clench and spasm and writhe. She wants his mouth on hers when he finally makes her scream.
When she can take no more, River tightens her grip on his shoulders and collapses back onto the mattress, bringing him with her. His hands fly out to catch them, bracing himself as he lands on top of her. River wastes no time in wrapping her legs around his hips, one of her hands snaking down between their bodies to wrap around his length.
His double pulse throbs under her palm and the Doctor moans at the contact, his face contorting with pleasure as she strokes him. He is heavy and smooth, warm and hard, twitching and eager, and the feel of him in her hand makes her body sing, insides clenching in anticipation. She pumps him once, twice, three times, delighting in the way he hisses at her in warning. She wants him to feel like she feels, like he's teetering on the brink of pleasure and even the lightest breeze will send him toppling over. She wants him as desperate and wanton she is.
River pumps him again, twisting her wrist just so as her thumb swipes over his sensitive tip. The strangled groan on his lips and the spasm of his hips tells her he's already there, already aching for her. Before she can tease him further, the Doctor captures her wrist, guiding it up and pressing it into the mattress by her head. There’s no need for ropes and handcuffs tonight. He holds her still with his eyes alone. There is no need to move or breathe or think because for once there is nothing in the universe to make them part. Finally, they have all the time in the world.
“River,” he says, pressing his forehead to hers and shutting his eyes. Her name rolls off his tongue like he's praying, asking and thanking and hoping. “I love you.”
The words wash over her skin in a whisper and, oh, this is the time that matters, the one she'll always remember. Tears pool in the corners of River’s eyes because it’s so easy to believe him this time around. She remembers their first breakfast, as they sat in her home and he told her about a husband that loved her more than anything. She remembers sitting atop the TARDIS while he spoke of the woman that got away, of how she was funny and brilliant and stunning, how she was fierce and determined and dangerous, but somehow still patient and kind. She remembers how effortlessly he admitted to loving her, how he promised to tell her if ever he got the chance. She remembers how his eyes burned and his entire face lit up, all without ever saying her name.
She wants to tell him that she believed him, that he was capable of that much love. She wants to tell him how a part of her had hoped, even then, that it was her he spoke of. She wants to tell him that she loves him, too, more than life, more than air, more than any living thing in the universe.
“Doctor, I-“ River tries to speak but his lips find hers, kissing her quiet.
It’s a quick kiss, soft and fleeting. When he pulls away, the weight of his heavy stare asks her not to speak, to hold her tongue. No words. They don't need them. They only get in the way.
River speaks without the use of her clumsy tongue, employing her mind instead. She opens her thoughts to him, an invitation he eagerly accepts. The most basic layers of consciousness brushes together first, little more than colors and complex emotions. His thoughts and memories come in waves of ambers and blues while hers swell in greens and crest in purples, minds ebbing and flowing as they meet again for a slow and steady kiss. Their tongues entwine, mouths moving in a way that begs no questions, no secrets, no spoilers. There are no burdens or boundaries or borders. There is only now, this moment, and the way his body aligns perfectly with hers.
Her hands snake up from where he'd placed them by her head to slide along his back, squeezing and scratching and stroking every inch of him she can reach. He tenses under her teasing hands, his tongue sweeping through her mouth insistently as his thoughts probe deeper into her mind. She yields to him in every way, her mouth eager to suck and lick at his tongue as the barriers of her mind fall like dominoes, one by one opening doors that have never been torn down before.
He's a remarkably good dancer, especially for one so clumsy. She wonders if what he said was really true. Was she the one to teach him how to dance? He seems a natural, gliding her across the cavern floor as effortlessly as breathing. For all his hard lines and sharp edges, his movements aren't stiff at all. He is fluid and gentle, guiding her body as if it were an extension of his own. As they move, he voicelessly mouths along with the lyrics, his lips twitching upward like he possesses a secret she once used to share.
It occurs to her that maybe his secret is that he doesn't actually know how to dance at all. Maybe he just knows how to dance with her. Maybe it’s less skill and more habit. Maybe his hand found the perfect place at the small of her back so easily because it's rested there a thousand times before.
He's a natural at touching her, there's no denying that, one hand on her back and the other molded perfectly around her palm. Their hips aligned as they sway slowly back and forth in the flickering lightning. The flat pane of his chest inviting her hand to rest upon it. The smoldering look in his eyes as he dips her just a fraction longer than necessary.
There's no denying the reaction her body has to him either, like it knows the feel of him, welcomes the press of his skin. Her muscles seem to have a mind of their own, hearts fluttering when he pulls her to him. Her eyes lingering on the crook of his shoulder, wondering if there was ever a time she rested her cheek there. She can't help but notice the sharp line of his jaw, how it makes her lips tingle like they remember the prick of the stubble that shadows his cheeks. She watches his throat bob as he swallows and finds herself captivated by the fabric he always wears there. The crookedness of it makes her smile, a familiar warmth she can't explain taking over her chest as her fingers strain toward it, longing to straighten his bow tie.
The memory makes his breath go ragged, mouth breaking from hers to drink in air. He rests the side of his temple against hers and a wave of emotions ripple through her, hope, elation, nostalgia, all coursing through her at once. They’re his, she realizes, his from that same moment, when she’d felt compelled to stroke her hand across the silk at his throat, drawn to it, effortlessly falling into habits from another life. When they'd danced in her caves and been made dizzy from more than just their spinning feet.
It feels like a flood gate has been opened as his mind continues to fill hers, exploring and plunging into all the dark corners and recesses he'd never been able to touch before. It tingles like Pop Rocks only better, little sparks of electrical current, crackling and caressing her subconscious.
He touches his lips to her neck in an open-mouthed kiss and River tingles in another manner entirely. He must feel it, the ripple of lust that curls all the way down to her toes. Mouth still working her neck, leaving love bites and a trail of wet kisses, he shifts his hips. It's enough to make the length of him known, sliding up and down her slick folds. Her legs clamp around him as he continues to tease her clit, the head of him prodding at her entrance with soft torturous thrusts that never seem to penetrate her. Teasing her with the prospect of fullness, with the pleasure that's to come, but never giving her what she wants.
It's the only part of her that's not filled by him, the place she aches for him the most. She wants, no she needs him, and her legs tighten their hold, heels digging into his bum in hopes of spurring him on. His breath is hot on her cheek, whispering Gallifreyan words for forever and mine and complete into her ear. His mind fills hers, every corner, deeper than ever before, until she finds herself canting up into hips that refuse to give her what she wants. The Doctor seems intent to torture her, to make her whimper and writhe, to wring out every last breathy groan of want from her lips.
She arches into him further, his husky voice in her ear soothing away the demanding little pleas she wasn't aware were spilling from her tongue. River opens her mouth, turning her head so her lips find his jaw, panting into him.
"Darling, please," she manages, nails digging into his skin, heels urging him on.
With a hoarse little chuckle, the Doctor finally relents, sliding his arms beneath her and clutching the tops of her shoulders for leverage as he prepares to finally slide inside her. Her breath catches in her throat at the first sign of pressure. Slowly, inch by torturous inch, he enters her. Her body welcomes him, stretching around his length and clamping down like she means to keep him there for eternity.
When he's finally sheathed himself completely, a stuttering breath slips out from between the Doctor’s slightly parted lips, gasping and burrowing his face in her neck like she's pulled the very air from his lungs and hidden it away at the very heart of her being. His grip on her tightens like he means to surrender more than just his breath, like he intends to bury himself deeper and deeper inside her as many times as it takes for their souls to become one.
The feel of him inside her is nirvana, his bruising grip ecstasy, his ragged breaths on her neck more hypnotic than any euphoric drug. The heady rush of it all causes a shudder of pleasure to ripple out from somewhere deep inside River’s bones. Her breath still seems to be trapped in her lungs, but oxygen seems trivial when she’s already on the brink of bliss. She’ll never need to breathe or move or speak again because she has never been so full, so complete. She feels him humming in her veins; he is above her and inside her body and within her being and all around her all at once.
His minds reaches out to hers, exploring places he never could before, opening doors that had once been locked up tight. She reaches into his to do the same, unearthing parts of him that have been buried for centuries. The Doctor groans, both their minds suddenly overwhelmed by years long past and days not so long ago lived. Flashes of how he sees her flicker by like sunlight through trees, the many ways he's loved her all these years singing like a symphony in fast forward.
Rows and rows of books but the only one of interest has a cracked spine and faded blue cover, the shadows that scare him most the ones that hide behind her knowing green eyes. She terrifies him and beguiles him and fills him with hope for a better future. His future. Her past. All of time and space waiting with a snap of her fingers.
He’s dying, but it’s too soon, far too soon. She doesn’t even know him yet. His lips still tingle from her poison kiss and yet he holds no grudges. There are far worse ways to die than by her lips. He is only enamored and filled with the need to protect, to teach, to give her hope.
It storms outside her prison cell, lightning painting shadows on the concrete walls as she leans in to kiss him. His hearts race in his chest and her lips are something new, something electric, something that makes his insides buzz with more energy than he knows how to control.
River always loved a tomb and the fleeting thought makes him smile as he pulls her toward him, because he has to, he simply must, his body will allow no other way. They are standing in his grave but the press of her lips feels like coming home. It’s something familiar and sweet and comfortable, and it calms his palpitating hearts. She is a balm, setting his soul at ease for the first time in eons.
Her body clenches around him and she is open and full and gasping and it has nothing to do with their naked bodies. It is naked minds; their souls are laid bare and it is breathtaking. They stay. Still. Like placid water. Like sunbeams peeking through rainclouds. Warm and sweet. And in this moment, she knows how it feels to be at peace.
Mind still tangled in hers, he slowly withdraws from her body. Her hips follow his, searching, wanting. He sinks inside her again and this time River moans, the sound forced out of her lungs in a heady rush. The wanton sound spurs him on, their bodies parting and joining and parting and joining, every thrust like the universe is dying and being born. They are one mind, one body. They are slick skin and pounding hearts and frantic, rolling hips. They rock together, the rhythmic slap of skin and strangled moans a symphony she never wants to forget.
He makes love to her like he travels through the vortex, all sparks and electricity, erratic and rough and wonderful. It's more wild, more helpless than it ever was before. His thoughts flow more freely, his hips snapping with more abandon. Everything is more more more. She feels herself at the brink faster than ever before, stomach coiling into tight little knots, body trying desperately to curl in on itself. Her desire rolls against his mind in waves. She lets every emotion flow through him, unrestrained. Her pleasure building, sparking, burning her up from the inside. Fullness and love crashing over them both in tidal waves.
His brow is pinched and she smooths away the creases with her thumbs, her fingers threading though his sweat-slicked hair. He palms at her breast, slow at first, testing its weight, but his greedy grip grows demanding, pinching at her hardened nipple until she keens. Every upward stroke of his thrusts makes her see stars, the growl in his breath as she digs her nails into his back causing her to shudder and shake.
She’s lost for words. Only one thing stands bright and hot in her mind, one central theme that hums in her veins and beats out of her hearts. There’s only one thing she can say to express the way she feels, how loved and whole. There is only one way to tell him that all is right, that he will never have to fear losing her again.
She breathes out his name and the Doctor shakes like she’s sent a white hot volt through his entire body. He tenses and pants, holding back, holding on, surging forward again and again like the tide trying to become one with the sand and make its home on the shore.
River breaks first, shaking beneath him as she surrenders to pleasure, pulsing around him until she drags him into ecstasy right along with her. A strangled cry fills the air around them. She isn't sure if it's from his lips or hers but her throat is dry and her ears are ringing and her vision has gone black at the edges. Bliss racks through her body in waves, pulsing outward from where they are joined. His hips stutter in their endeavor to wring them both of every last ounce pleasure, to hold on to this delicious feeling as long as they can.
Their thoughts grip hold of one another in an embrace she isn't sure they'll ever untangle from. They may be forever locked here, wrapped around each other and suspended in oblivion. The prospect makes her eyes water, warm tears spilling over and washing away any lingering worries or fears. A drop of moisture must roll across his cheek because the Doctor stills his movements, looking up from where he'd buried his face in her neck.
River does not hide her tears and the Doctor does not shy away. He lifts a hand, the brightest, softest smile she's ever seen tugging at his lips as he wipes her tears away with his thumb. Neither of them speak, but the silence that settles between them is enough for them to know they have been cleansed, the sins and secrets of the past washing away to make room for something greater.
His own eyes are bright, shining not with tears but with a youthful optimism he must have drawn from the very marrow of his bones. He's still smiling when he drops his lips to her tear-stained cheeks, sealing their affections with a kiss. She can feel his erratic heartbeats through his chest, their bodies still humming from post-coital bliss.
When the Doctor finally catches his breath and rolls to his side, River follows after, her knee still hooked over his hip. The Doctor's hand instantly finds its way into her curls, running his fingers through her tangled locks. He's always fascinated by her hair in moments like this, enraptured by how wild it looks after she's been thoroughly ravished.
Comfortable silence settles in the air and River lets out a satisfied hum, enjoying the way his fingers scratch lightly at her scalp.
"Did you know house flies hum in the key of F?” he asks, an insufferable smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
River mirrors his expression, remembering the last time they'd lain across a bed and he'd broken the silence with those very same words. "I did actually," she admits, her smirk deepening. "The last handsome man I lured into my bed told me."
His nonexistent brows lift, feigning a look of admiration. "His pillow talk sounds like the work of unparalleled genius."
"Oh it is," she agrees, the glint in her eyes as playful as the fingers that crawl their way up his belly. "And he has a pretty face to match. Can't say much about his dress sense though, simply atrocious."
An adorable look of mock outrage flashes across his ridiculous face before his eyes narrow and his hands seek out her sides, mercilessly tickling her. River’s shameless grin is swallowed by a squeak of surprise, rolling away from him as her body gives an involuntary jerk. He must decide that the small distance between them doesn't suit, because he abandons his assault to pull her closer.
River surrenders, curling into his lean frame and letting his arms wrap tightly around her. His breath stirs her curls and River strokes her fingers along his bare skin, scratching lightly until he's purring at her touch. With her ear to his chest, she can feel the vibrations through his sternum. There's nothing quite like it, the sound of his hearts without the accompanied tick of a clock. She likes it like this, with only their skin and bones to separate them.
"Lucky for him,” River confesses into his chest, her teasing fingers swirling around his belly button. “I prefer him naked."
She can feel the way his lips curl against the top of her head, a low rumble rising out of his throat before he speaks. His voice is thick, not with lust or sleep, but with quiet content as he whispers, "I'll bet you do, you little minx."
The sound of it compels her to lift her head, seeking him out. When she does, she finds his eyes have fluttered closed. He looks peaceful, tranquil, a small blissful smile etched onto his face.
When morning finds her, she is warm and snug, cocooned by soft sheets and a possessive embrace. As she blinks into consciousness, it takes a moment to recall exactly whose arm is wrapped around her. Whoever the limb belongs to, it is wiry and strong and cradling her to a decidedly masculine form.
As her eyes finally focus, she finds her head is tucked into the Doctor’s chest, his chin resting atop her curls. She isn't sure how she found herself in this position, snuggled up close with a man she barely knows. She remembers his shadow pacing outside her door and the attentive way he'd draped an extra blanket across the foot of her bed. She remembers inviting him to stay and the stutter of her hearts as he shed his coat and climbed into her bed. She remembers talking about the nightmares that plague her and the sleepy smile he tried to hide when he offered to keep them at bay.
The hum of energy in her rejuvenated bones tells her he succeeded in his task, even if he did succumb to sleep himself. A euphoric rush blooms in her chest. She can't explain what it is or why, but whatever it is makes her what to burrow deeper into this man’s lanky figure and stay there. It takes more strength than she'd like to admit to resist the urge. Instead of abandoning the safe haven of these sheets completely, she settles for wiggling free of his hold, leaning up on her elbow so her eyes can seek out the face of the mysterious man at her side.
However they came to be in this position, he doesn't look like he's complaining. In fact, he’s smiling in his sleep. The stillness of his features begs her eyes to examine him closer, taking note of his sharp features and oddly attractive face. Her eyes travel down his body, lean and lightly muscled and more inviting than one might think at first glance. Her gaze stalls over the hard lines of his chest, remembering the thump of his double pulse beneath her ear. She recalls asking him about them, the word 'bespoke' hanging in the air as their rhythmic beating lulled her to sleep.
"River." Her name falls off his lips in a sleepy mumble and all lingering thoughts of the curious word are banished, her gaze snapping back to his. Her eyes are wide and guilty, her hearts fluttering like she's been caught doing something she shouldn't. When she locks onto his face again, her worries fade instantly, a relieved smile spreading her lips as she finds he's still dreaming. He's rather adorable when he sleeps, hair a mess, clothing rumpled, and cheeks tugging upward as he mutters her name and something about fish fingers.
The thought of food and remembering the smell of the breakfast she'd made for him that morning causes her stomach to make itself known. But hunger seems a minor inconvenience when she's wrapped in such soft sheets and warm embrace. She dares say no cosmic force could pull her from this bed. For once there is nothing to bid them to part and no daunting deadlines laid out before them. There is no countdown, no need to hurry from one moment to the next. They can stay just like this, naked, entwined, and carefree for as long as they like.
She can't say for sure what troubles tomorrow will bring or what the future holds. She doesn't know what they'll do or where they'll go from here. All she knows is that, wherever it is, they'll go there together. And, for now, everywhere seems like the perfect place to start.