fic: To Keep Me From the Cold
Title: To Keep Me From the Cold
Author:lonewytch
Pairing: River/11
Rating: Mature
Wordcount: 6791
Summary: The Doctor takes River on a date. It goes a bit wrong. But not that wrong, because it ends with sexytimes in the Tardis.
A/N: I started this fic forever ago in the winter, hence the snowy setting.
There are so very many things that seem like an excellent idea at the time you think of them. Often, though, these ideas fade into the territory of not-a-very-good-idea-actually upon closer examination.
Like, for example, taking your relatively recently acquired wife to the Ice Gardens of Cronos Minor when you’re not absolutely one hundred percent sure of the precise coordinates. Miles and miles of gardens sculpted entirely from ice, immense trees with razor sharp leaves rippling in the dim, low light of the stars - now that’s atmospheric.
Meadows of exquisite flowers, carved in minute detail, with petals thin as paper, and so delicate they would crack if you touched them. All of them lit by an aurora borealis flushing pink and green across the sky. Very romantic.
His romantic sensibilities may have been stashed and shuttered away for a while, boxed into the fluttering hands and flailing limbs of this incarnation. But - River Song. Oh, River Song. She was mad and she was impossible, and it had taken him a little while, admittedly, but he’d grown into an easy acceptance now that somehow the curl of her hair and the curve of her waist had him taking out and dusting off all the neglected bits of himself.
Everything that was beautiful and wonderful in the Universe - he was going to show her it. He had an itinerary in his head, constantly in flux as he added in new locations and disregarded others; names and places playing across his mind.
Her first night away from Stormcage was a hard act for him to follow. There had been all the stars of Calderon Beta shining onto their upturned faces, light pouring over them like water, brighter than day, a billion suns filtered through the planet’s atmosphere to kiss at their faces warmly. It was a hard act to follow - but how could he have offered any less than all the stars that could ever be seen to the woman who ripped time apart for him, and now languished in prison on his behalf? However the Ice Gardens were certainly impressive from memory - and if it was a bit of a faded and old memory, a bit dog eared at the edges, well all the better to share the wonder with her a bit fresher, all the sweeter to see the shapes and lights of the place reflected in her eyes.
Cronos Minor was a small planet, locked into a sweeping elliptical loop around its mother sun. It only reached the farthest point of the loop away from that sun every 300 years. Then, the whole sphere froze dramatically, locked into a mini ice age by forces that had no consideration for its molten core. Artisans from over the small spiral galaxy the planet was located in, converged on it, scrambling over the surface and covering it in intricate carvings and sculptures.Travellers came from everywhere - from all over the universe - to view this act of collective craftsmanship entwined with the forces of nature. An ethereal and motionless sight, fixed in time for a short while, lit by the shifting magnetism of the poles and the stars.
It was beautiful. It was chilly too, very chilly in fact, from memory. But importantly it was romantic and that somehow seemed desperately important to him when it came to River and her long confinement in the Stormcage. Somehow, she had him thinking longingly of mulled wine, of kisses on cold noses and of slipping his fingers inside her pockets to twine around hers while their breath ghosted out before them in the cold air.
He had even bought her a hat, and - to his vast satisfaction - somehow convinced her to wear it, which he felt was a bit of a coup. It was an adorable woollen bobble hat, close knitted in a chunky Tardis blue yarn (which was what had attracted him to it in the first place.) Most importantly, it had a fat pom-pom perched atop it which he thought looked rather magnificent. This was a special hat he’d bought her especially for this trip out, he told her, to keep her warm in the sub zero climate - and it even had a matching scarf and gloves. It was a romantic gesture - after all, who doesn’t like a good hat?
But she had objected strongly to wearing it at first, tugging at the pom pom, calling it “ridiculous”, and they’d almost argued. He’d insisted, wheedled, begged, and finally made some very rash promises about taking her to a number of destinations she wished to visit (destinations where, he was suspicious she was going to either to a. cause some havoc, or, b. steal things.) Promises secured, eventually she relented and agreed to wear the hat, though she swore to him that she was going to burn it afterwards
So, all of this had seemed like a terribly good idea, the planet, the Ice Gardens, the hat - an appropriate second “date” for him and his new wife. Insisting on piloting there himself, despite her protestations, had also seemed like a wonderfully gentlemanly gesture, (though if he was really honest with himself, it was because it still irked him profoundly that she could fly the Tardis better.)
But...his coordinates had been wrong. A sequence of numbers and letters, pulled out of the recesses of his memory like an old piece of string from a pocket, should have deposited them in the Central Plaza of the Ice Gardens. Instead, he had flung open the Tardis doors to be met by a blank expanse of almost blinding white, a featureless sheet of snow flung across the land. A biting wind swept across the landscape, sending drifts of powdery white rushing across the threshold of his ship.
River had been sceptical at this point, but he had been utterly and honestly convinced that he knew exactly where they had (accidentally) landed. He had banged on the console dramatically blaming the old girl for getting it wrong and insisting that he knew the exact route there.
After 25 minutes of wading through the snow against the wind, under a dull sky which seemed to be tucked into the edges of the distant horizon around them - and not a garden in sight - he had begun to feel somewhat less convinced. The sky had sagged gradually towards them, doubling to a slate grey as they walked. Finally, when it began to feel dangerously close to their heads, as if it might upend itself onto them and they would go tumbling over through its clouds, the first flakes had begun to flicker like ghosts in the corners of his vision.
All of this was why the Doctor at this moment found himself standing in a layer of deepening white while an oppressive sky above worked itself into a blizzard, sending eddies and swirls of thick flakes slicing between him and River in an erratic and shifting lacework pattern.
“That’s it. Sweetie, we are going back to the Tardis. Now. As in, right now,” she announced from behind him, her voice muffled into softness by the landscape.
He turned to her. A layer of snow was settling over the closely knitted blue of her hat, and flakes were catching in her curls, glistening and melting as she looked up at him seriously.
He swept his arm around uselessly, indicating - he didn’t know what - in the blank vista around them, a vista which was fast closing in around them as the flakes thickened.
“I’m sure it’s just over that hill.”
“Doctor, that isn’t a hill. It’s a slope at best, and “just over that hill” is clearly about a mile off. We need to go back. I’m freezing.”
She was using a voice that he was slowly learning meant she would brook no disagreement, and he couldn’t help pouting as he spun on the spot, struggling to make out anything other than fat flakes wrapping themselves around the two of them. “But - mulled cider, and sculptures, and fairy lights, and…” he trailed off, disappointment sinking deep into his belly. “I wanted to take you somewhere nice.”
“Oh sweetie.” She stepped into him and pressed herself against his chest, a gentle pressure that he could barely feel through his layers, but that still sent a warmth spreading into him. “You already have taken me somewhere wonderful. You’ve shown me all the stars at once.”
She bunched his jacket into her hands and tugged him in for a kiss. He could feel her nose and cheeks, like icicles against even his cool skin - she really was very cold. It was a stark contrast to the warmth of her tongue, which slid past his lips and over his own tongue as he met her kiss eagerly. He couldn’t help gasping into her mouth a little, and tried to clutch at her through his thick mittens, to pull her even closer against him, but came up with only fistfulls of the thick wool which encased his own hands. She broke off the kiss much too soon for his liking , then stepped back out of his embrace.
“And you will take me to other places, but right now my love, we need to go back.” He voice was insistent, and he thought of the icy brush of her cheeks against his. Her nose was also rather pink with the cold, and it looked looked utterly adorable, but utterly freezing.
It was pure white around them, as though they were boxed into an endless pale room, curtains sweeping around them, hiding them from everything and threatening to hide them from each other. The wind which had been biting to begin with was bitter now, hurling snow into their faces and sending flakes into his nostrils and eyes. She was right. He sighed inwardly, disappointed with the turn of events.
“Er…yes.” he felt the need to clear his throat and fidget as he often did after one of her, frankly marvellous, kisses, but his fluttering hands were muffled in thick wool. “Going back right now and immediately and all that.” He twisted around on the spot again, his boots digging into the snow caked surface, but his eyes couldn’t find any feature in the landscape to snag upon. “Oh. Do you know which direction we came from?”
She looked at him disbelievingly for a beat.“Oh for god’s sake….your sonic,” she said exasperatedly, gesturing to his overcoat pockets. He slipped off his mittens, and dug deep inside each pocket with both hands, but the familiar shape of the sonic didn’t slip easily into his palm like it usually did. After two minutes of emptying the varied and copious contents of both his pockets into her hands, while she sighed and shook her head, he was forced to concede defeat. He looked at her with apology and a small sense of embarrassment.
“I think it’s in my other jacket,” he admitted. He began adding items back into his pockets. String. A yo-yo. Some copper wiring. Fluorescent rubber bands. A child’s toy dinosaur. Half a small circuit board. He swivelled his head around again, searching the only visible space which now only extended to about two feet around them. “But that’s okay, I’m sure I can remember if I put my mind to it.” The last item in her hands was the Tardis key, shining golden against her blue mittens. He reached and picked it up in order to deposit it back inside his coat.
“Not a chance.” She wrapped her hand around the key tugging it from his fingers, “You are not to be trusted to get us back.” She was working her mitten off her left hand as she spoke. Her words stung, and he shot her a wounded look.
“Oh please, don’t look at me like I just shot someone. Sweetie, you’re utterly wonderful at most things, you’re just a little off your game today. Now, unfortunately I’m going to have to have my hand bared for this. If I get frostbite, it’s all your fault. Now.”
He watched as she grasped the Tardis key tightly in her hand, and allowed her eyes to flutter closed, furrowing her brow in concentration. Flicking his eyes down to the hand which enclosed the key, he saw a golden-amber light begin to escape through the cracks between her fingers, flaring the edges of her skin red as it shone. The key was glowing brightly in the confines of her hand, the light within it pulsing and responding to something inside River, he was fascinated to realise. Finally, she let out a breath and opened her eyes announcing, “This way,” before striding off into the blizzard.
He scrambled to keep up with her,long legs striding out and feet struggling for purchase on the powdery snow. “What did you just do?” he demanded.
He suspected he actually knew precisely what she’d just done - the key was a part of the Tardis after all, forged from deep inside her bones. Technically River was a part of the Tardis too, the DNA birthed inside her a legacy of the vortex. Apparently she could connect with the heart of his ship via the key and gain a sense of where She was - and he supposed it was natural that there would be an easy connection there, after all. The thought made him feel warm inside, a glow that shielded him against the cold and icy environment as he walked.
“I can sense her through the key,” River told him, unnecessarily now. “Now, hold onto my hand, I’m not coming after you in this blizzard.”
*
Some time later, they tumbled through the doors and into the welcome light and warmth of the Control Room. The muscles in his legs ached and quivered from slogging through deepening drifts of snow, his trousers were soggy and his feet and nose both completely numb. He noted that the walls of his ship were glowing brightly, spilling amber light all through the control room. A delicious warmth radiated from them, filling the room and tingling pleasantly against his nose and cheeks. A sympathetic tone thrummed from the walls and from deep beneath the floor.
“Thank you, Sexy,” he murmured, sending a wave of grateful feeling out to his ship.
“Well that was fun,” River said as she slammed the door against the blizzard raging outside. A final few flakes of snow squeezed their way in and swirled across the room, the last gasp of a miniature snowstorm, which eddied and circled before settling and melting into shining droplets on the floor.
He didn’t really have anything clever to say to that, so just stood and watched feeling somewhat sheepish as River shrugged off her coat and let it drop sodden and freezing cold to the floor with a wet thud. She pulled off her hat by the bobble and dangled it at him, rapidly melting flakes of snow slowly running down the sides and dripping onto the floor. “Thank you for the hat, sweetie.”
“You don’t mean that, you hate the hat.” He kicked at the floor. “I’ve got an idea. I think I know where I went wrong with those co-ordinates.” He rummaged through his memory, numbers and letters scratching themselves across his mind, pulled off a mitten, and let his fingers trace the shapes into the air “….Yes, five-zero-four, slash, acorn, nine-two…”
The number eight he was swiping into thin air was interrupted at its intersection by her hand, as she captured his fingers in hers. A deep sigh welled up from inside him. “River, I’m sorry. I’m no good at this….dating thing.” He threw off his second mitten, flinging it away in a temper, so that it thwacked wetly against the console, causing a grumbling buzz deep under the Time Rotor.
“Dating? Sweetie. Really. We’re married.” Without warning she began stripping away her layers unceremoniously and methodically. He stood as if hypnotised and watched the slow peel of wet clothes away from her skin, half aware that his mouth was slightly ajar and his hands were fidgeting at his sides. Her sweater followed her coat, stripped away to leave her bare armed in a tight black vest. Boots were unlaced and kicked away carelessly, then next her socks were stripped off, leaving her barefooted. He watched as she wriggled her bare toes against the heat of the floor, and decided that she really did have very very nice feet. Very kissable feet in fact. He licked his lips. She added her socks to soggy pile on the floor, the snow and ice that had rested on her outer garments now losing its battle against the the warmth of the room, and creating a small puddle which had begun to spread.
“Yes, yes, I know we’re married,” he said, finding his tongue at last. “But technically it’s only our second date since we got married.”
He watched, fascinated as she slid off her vest to reveal a midnight blue bra which cupped her breasts in elaborate lace. There was the suggestion of her nipples, a dusky pink almost-but-not-quite glimpsed just through the fabric. He found himself swallowing convulsively, trying to tear his gaze away and back to her face before it became too obvious that he was transfixed by the sight of her.
She rolled her green eyes at him, and then tossed her head and winked mischievously, clearly revelling in his attention. “Only you would talk about dating someone after you got married. That’s back to front, my love.”
It was like an echo bouncing around the room, the truth of her words just then. Back to front. Past. Future. All tangled up together, both of them moving through time against each other. Yet they had these times, these moments like today, where they moved in almost perfect sync with each other, moments when they knew each other almost equally. There would always be the diaries, the checking, the flicking of fresh white pages or of rippled age-yellowed pages, the preservation of delicate timelines whenever they met. But there were these precious times when they knew each other. Really if he was honest, all he wanted to do was carry her away with him today, to never look back and to travel with her forever; to spin out this day thinner and thinner like a web wrapped and looped around the stars, until it had no beginning and no end and it seemed as if they had always been together. That would be some second date.
Her voice interrupted his thoughts.
“You do know how to date a girl, Doctor. You showed me the stars after all. If we’re calling that a first date I think it went rather well, wouldn’t you say? Very romantic. And as a second date….well….” she left the sentence unfinished, the silence dragging out, punctuated only by the drip-drip of water from his coat. He realised he was still clad in his sodden clothes, which were growing heavier and heavier as the last of the ice and snow melted, sinking deep into the fibres of his garments. He really should get around to taking them off at some point...but not right now. Because now her nimble fingers were unbuttoning her trousers, peeling them down her shapely legs, and pushing at them until they crumpled to the floor, to be kicked aside to join the spreading puddle.
He tried to stop himself from fidgeting, but it was immensely difficult since all of him felt like it was filling up with heat and sparks, which wanted to rattle out the end of his fingers. It could have just been the wet warmth of his clothes against his skin, and the way he was beginning to feel uncomfortably hot from the warmth radiating out of the walls like waves, but he doubted it .
More likely it was the way her matching blue lace knickers cut a perfect slant across tops of her thighs, soft scallops of lace pushed against creamy skin. More likely, it was River Song, her hair drying to wild corkscrews, her eyes greener than green and looking at him like he was the only thing in the world right then.
Suddenly he felt impossibly silly stood there in his thick coat, and began trying to shrug it off.
She laughed, a full and warm throaty sound that echoed off the walls, reverberating back sounding even warmer again as if it was wrapped in the heat and in the light. “Really sweetie, there’s no need to blush. Though I do like it.”
She stepped towards him, helping him to pull off his overcoat and letting it fall away carelessly, quick fingers unravelling his bowtie and pulling it from under his collar with a swift shifting rasp of silk against cotton. He watched as she wrapped the bow tie twice around her fist and kissed it, looking up at him with wide eyes, the silk a shining black line around her knuckles. As he looked down at the press of her lips to the fabric, his breathing hitched a little as a wave of fondness and tenderness spread through him. It felt suddenly like she’d somehow caught his breath in the silk wrapped around her hand, and was holding it there. Her eyes were smiling, tenderness playing at their corners, and he knew exactly what she was thinking, because it was what he was thinking too. They were remembering both their hands bound together by that strip of fabric, joined under the stars, the smell of a desert at night hanging around them like perfume.
She smiled at him, and suddenly her swift fingers were working over his shirt and travelling down his buttons, pushing his tweed jacket and shirt away from his shoulders before he could react. Jacket and shirt soon joined her clothing and his overcoat on the floor, and he stood bare chested as her fingers worked over his trouser fastenings. His arms dangled uselessly at his sides, twitching and fluttering, and he realised that he really should be doing something with them right now. He followed the nervous energy in his fingertips, let it guide him where it wanted to go - and where it wanted to go to was into her frankly glorious hair. He lifted his hands to bury them in her still-damp hair, burrowing through her curls and scraping his nails gently against her scalp. She hummed appreciatively as she worked open his trouser zip. The Tardis hummed and radiated warmth from the walls helpfully. The tone was smug, as it always was whenever River was taking either his or her own clothes off with that look in her eye.
“Shoes please,” she demanded, before strolling in a leisurely fashion towards and up the steps, to lean against the console. He was left, unanchored in the middle of the floor in a spreading puddle of water. He bent to unlace his boots, looking up at her as she lounged against the console, one hand spread over it possessively, looking for all the world as if she belonged there just in her underwear. He noticed that she had draped his bowtie over the zig-zag plotter.
“You can’t just tell me what to do, you know,” he grumbled as he kicked off his boots, trying to sound stern. “I’m the Oncoming Storm, you can’t just demand “shoes!” and expect me to just do what you say!” He balled up his socks and threw them at her, missing badly and earning him a raised eyebrow and a smirk. He scowled half heartedly, and she laughed at him again.
“Of course not, my love, I wouldn’t dream of telling you what to do.” Her voice was gently mocking but her eyes were warm as he stepped from his trousers and up the Tardis steps, into her waiting arms.
The soft warmth of her skin was welcome on his, and he pressed himself eagerly to her, sinking into her body, the heat of her melting away the memory of the snow and the wind outside. She tilted her head, offering her mouth up to him, and he pressed his lips to hers, thrills running through his nerves as she opened her mouth quickly to him. She kissed him enthusiastically, her tongue sliding against his and battling playfully for dominance. The fresh taste of her filled his mouth.
“But you always tell me what to do,” he said when they broke for air. “And I ….oh.” Her hand sliding into his boxers, and along the length of him, finished the sentence for him. She rubbed her palm up and down against him and a delicious feeling began to spread out from every place where her skin contacted his. Fire ran along his nerves and across his body, sinking through his skin and setting up a tingle deep in his flesh, which sank down to heat his very bones. She trailed her fingers up and down the length of his cock, and he gasped, thrusting forward eagerly, trying to increase the contact and create some friction, to ease the ache that was growing deep in his belly.
“Mmmmm,” she moaned against him, her face pressed into the fold of his neck, “Okay, I admit it….I do tell you what to do sometimes.”
“Most of the time,” he corrected, trying to focus as her hand wrapped him in a firm grip and slid up and down around him, the movement grabbing and carrying his thoughts away with it. “I’m much older and wiser than you, and…uh,” words deserted him as she twisted her wrist cleverly and then flicked her thumb over the sensitive head.
There was a muffled laugh against his neck, which he ignored. “You seem to think you’re in charge all the time, Doctor Song,” he told her. He let his hands slide down the curve of her back and over the lace of her knickers, cupping the curve of her bum and squeezing hard. She wriggled against him giggling into his neck.
He growled at her in mock anger, his hands sure and steady now as he ran them back up and over the sweet flare of her hips, along the rise and fall of her ribs, and then up over the swell of her breasts and the textured lace of her bra. His thumbs found the already hard pebbles of her nipples through the lace, and he rubbed at them, pleased when she moaned urgently and begged, “Please sweetie.”
He was more than happy to comply, and reached round to release her bra clasp, letting the intricate midnight blue lace fall away to reveal the creamy swell of her breasts. He hesitated for a moment, reluctant to drop the beautiful and expensive looking lingerie onto the floor, until an idea occurred to him. He slung the bra over the zig-zag plotter - it really was quite a useful feature - letting it dangle there along with his bow-tie. He brought both hands up to cup her breasts inside his palms. Their weight and shape was a familiar delight in his hands and they seemed to fit him perfectly, as if she was made for him. He ran his palms over her nipples, eliciting soft moans from her, then took them in his fingertips, tugging and squeezing at them, urged on by the increasing volume of her calls.
Her head dropped back, opening up the delicious line of her neck to him, and he leaned forwards to taste it eagerly, swiping his tongue over the skin there, scraping his teeth against her and nipping softly.
Her hand was still clasped around him in a constant motion, twisting a coil of tension tighter and tighter deep in his belly, a molten heat that grew with a rising urgency and quivered to be released. He let his hands slide from the soft skin of her breasts, wander round to her back, then slide the smooth expanse down to the edge of her knickers. He hooked his thumbs into them, then pushed them down impatiently, and he felt her move as she jiggled her legs and then stepped out of them, kicking them to the side. He thrust into her palm one last time revelling in the heat and tingle that seemed to emanate from her palm, then took her wrist firmly, pulling her hand away from him and drawing back from her. Confusion flickered across her face momentarily, until he grabbed her by the hips, lifted her up swiftly with little effort, and deposited her on the console a little more firmly than he’d intended. A small squeak of surprise escaped her as he sat her down, and he pleaded silently that he’d not just deposited her on top of any crucial controls, and that they weren’t just about to rip a hole in the space time continuum. He waited for a beat, holding his breath, braced for fire, or sparks, or juddering motion, but finally concluded they’d escaped that disaster, since his ship was doing nothing more worrying than humming smugly.
He stepped back a little to study her; her mouth was slightly open, lips parted just a litte, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright. Her legs were slightly spread as she braced her thighs against the angle of the console, and he could see the damp curls between her legs, could glimpse the slick line of her glistening in the Tardis’s light. Hormones and pheromones filled the air and played over his tongue. He hadn’t even touched her yet, but she was already soaking wet for him. That thought brought both a blush to his cheeks and deep aching lust to his belly.
Her voice was playful when she spoke “That’s another very pretty blush darling. But, now you’ve got me here, what are you going to do sweetie? I mean, you can stand there gawking all day if you like, but a girl does get impatient in the end...” She braced her arms at her sides and then spread her legs, shamelessly and deliberately wider, opening herself up to his gaze. His cock twitched as sensation angled through him at the sight of her. All thoughts of self consciousness were lost as he strode rapidly forwards to stand between her spread legs.
“Now, River,” he murmured, keeping his voice low, pressing forward against her and letting his erection brush against the curls between her legs and push up against her slickness. She moaned and wriggled, spreading warm wetness over the sensitive end of his cock. He let his hand drift from her shoulders, down over the curve of her belly, feeling her flesh shiver and shudder underneath his travelling fingers. He let them come to rest lightly - so very lightly, barely a feather of a touch - between her legs.
“What are you looking so smug about” she gasped at him, spreading her legs wider, pressing her hips forward and rubbing herself against his fingers.
“Oh, just you,” he replied. He let his fingers slide along her folds, the wetness of her carrying them easily along, feeling and exploring the intricate textures of her body and dipping shallowly into her cunt.
“I’ve got you where I want you,” he told her, as he swiped his thumb firmly over her clit. He felt her tense her thigh muscles and then she levered her hips up and pushed against his hand with as much force as she could, almost slipping completely off the console surface. He gripped her hip with his free hand, holding her in place firmly.
“Tsk, River. Very impatient.You know, really I could just leave you here to stew. Get you all worked up, then leave you to think about it.” His fingers ghosted over her folds, his thumb rubbing a steady and firm circle against her clit.
“Don’t you bloody dare,” she warned.
“Ordering me about again, Doctor Song?” he teased “That won’t get you anywhere.” He decreased the pressure, stroking over her wetness more and more softly, until her damp and tender skin was just the barest sensation against the pad of his thumb
“You’re enjoying this aren’t you,” she accused. “My god, what have I created?” She poked at his thigh with her bare toes in protest.
He just grinned at her, enjoying how helpless she apparently was under the ministrations of his hands. Then, he finally gave way to both her need and his own, pressing hard between her legs again, two fingers finding their way into her folds and dipping deep into her. He listened as she first gasped at the sudden invasion of his long fingers, and then sighed out in relief as he began to work them urgently in and out of her. He hummed in satisfaction at the sight of her arching into his hand, moaning and gasping for him.
“Please...Doctor,” she was gasping at him, as he pumped his fingers in and out of her with increasing force and pressure, curling his fingers slightly to press against her walls. “Need you....inside me. Oh god....need you to fuck me.”
He pulled his hand away, his fingers soaked in the wetness and the scent of her. Ever curious as to the taste of her, he pushed his fingers in-between his lips, letting the taste spread across his tongue. She tasted of salt and stars and of deep waters. She tasted like nothing else in the universe. He pressed his fingers to her lips next, urging her to taste herself and watching avidly as she sucked them in eagerly.
“Still ordering me about,” he murmured in response to her request, pressing his face to her hair, burying it in the clean, wild smell of her. He was so hard now, heavy and aching, and he wanted to be inside her just as urgently as she apparently wanted him there. He moved forwards slightly, pressing his firm length against her wet centre. She shifted a little, stretching her arms and thighs outwards, pressing her hips forward and up, and the head of his cock dipped just slightly into her, making him groan with lust at the promise of heat and wetness.
“Just here, sweetie?” She questioned, wriggling against him.
He grabbed her hips tightly pushing her into the console, stilling her movements. “Just here,” he agreed, snapping his hips forwards with a sharp thrust that sent him plunging into her.
Her part human body, running so much hotter than his, engulfed him in a fire that sent sensation racing over his body. He couldn’t help a moan of relief escaping him, as he began to thrust in and out of her, her slick walls grasping and fluttering around his cock, his hands still pressed to her hips anchoring her to the console. She was looking at him, her green eyes fixed on his, intense, pupils blown black and wide.
He set pace that soon had them both gasping. River was always loud anyway, he had learned that by now, and the groan she let out as he slid one hand down between them to press at her clit, echoed from the walls and seemed to set up a resonance with the hum and whir of his ship. It was source of fascination to him, so far, that despite the awkwardness and shyness that still hung around him (but that were fading fast), he could make this mad and beautiful woman emit these….well…primal noises. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to it.
He could feel her walls beginning to tighten around his cock, and when he looked up, her whole body was arched with tension, a furious concentration in her eyes, which looked down at him, blazing. He worked his thumb faster over her clit, circling wildly as he fucked hard into her, until finally she let out a long wail and he felt her come apart under his hands and around his cock. Her cries filled the control room, her muscles clenching around him, her hips and thighs spasming. He could feel his own orgasm approaching, white light coming at him hard and fast and he fought to let her ride hers out first, his thumb hard against her clit. Eventually, he couldn’t hold back. Waves of sound and light rose and crashed around him as he began thrusting fast into her, twisting his hips and hearing her emit little mews with each impact of his pelvis against her.Light crashed through him like a wave, stars filling him up as he emptied himself into her, every nerve in his body on fire and shining bright.
He may have passed out for a moment, or, at least, lost some time somewhere - which was not a very good thing for a Timelord to do, admittedly. When he came to his senses, he was slumped forwards against her, his head buried into her neck and her curls tickling his cheeks. His breathing was slowing gradually, his blood still pumping past through him, the afterburn of pleasure tingling through his nerves. The space of time in-between him pouring himself into and this moment now was a great blank.
“Well, we’ve definitely warmed up now,” she murmured, her words vibrating against his lips pressed to her neck. “It was worth slogging through that blizzard just for this.”
“Mmmmfh,” he agreed, against her soft skin, his mind slow and mellow, drifting aimlessly through avenues of time and physics and numbers and.....oh! Suddenly it hit him where he’d gone wrong with the coordinates. The right sequence suddenly drifted up into his mind, shapes and numbers and letters, the mistakes glaringly obvious now. A misplaced forward slash and an errant zero had found its way into the sequence, somehow. It must be because he was distracted by River looking all ridiculously adorable in her little bobble hat, he decided. Nothing to do with him forgetting anything. No, not at all. He jumped back from her suddenly, his sudden movement sending her sliding on her backside right off the edge of the console, where she just about caught herself on the edge and managed to land on her feet.
“Oops, sorry.” He waved his hand vaguely at her.
“What’s going on?” She demanded.
He danced backwards, suddenly aware of his nakedness, reaching for his trousers amidst the pile of clothes and finding them sopping wet and still dripping melted snow and ice everywhere.
“I’ve remembered the right coordinates!” He decided it was best to ignore his trousers, dropping them back to the floor where they landed with a squelch, and also to ignore his nudity. He bounded back up the stairs to the console, reaching to punch in the coordinates. A strong hand suddenly reached out and grabbed his wrist before his fingers made it to the keys. He looked round at her questioningly.
“No,” she told him.
“No?”
“No. I don’t fancy round two of getting lost in a blizzard and soaked to the bone. My toes have only just now stopped tingling.” She stepped behind him, pressing her naked body flush against his. “Although, admittedly, the tingling may not be entirely because of the cold.”
He felt her press a soft kiss to his shoulder, and ran his fingers longingly over the letters and numbers on his console, ghosting out the required pattern that would - he was sure - get them to the Ice Gardens.
“But,” he wheedled, “even if we do get wet through, it’s fun getting warmed up again afterwards.” He shifted around until he was facing her, taking in her green eyes, flushed cheeks and hair which was now completely dry and hopelessly messy, corkscrewing from all directions out of her head. “Plus...ice sculptures. Mulled Wine. Fairy lights.” He pressed a kiss to her nose.
“You’re a hopeless romantic,” she told him, warmly and gave him a long suffering sigh.
“So, yes then?” he bounced excitedly on his heels, watching as she rolled her eys dramatically at him.
“Yes, OK.” She pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “Once we’ve got some dry clothes on.”
He turned, and began punching in the absolutely-definitely-the-right-coordinates.
“Oh, there’s conditions, sweetie,” she said behind him.
“What are they?” He asked over his shoulder, wondering what else he would have to add to the list of rash promises he had already had to make today in order to convince her to wear the hat.
“Number one, i am not wearing that hat. And number two,” she stepped up beside him and flung a lever down.
“I’m driving.”
Fic masterlist
Author:lonewytch
Pairing: River/11
Rating: Mature
Wordcount: 6791
Summary: The Doctor takes River on a date. It goes a bit wrong. But not that wrong, because it ends with sexytimes in the Tardis.
A/N: I started this fic forever ago in the winter, hence the snowy setting.
There are so very many things that seem like an excellent idea at the time you think of them. Often, though, these ideas fade into the territory of not-a-very-good-idea-actually upon closer examination.
Like, for example, taking your relatively recently acquired wife to the Ice Gardens of Cronos Minor when you’re not absolutely one hundred percent sure of the precise coordinates. Miles and miles of gardens sculpted entirely from ice, immense trees with razor sharp leaves rippling in the dim, low light of the stars - now that’s atmospheric.
Meadows of exquisite flowers, carved in minute detail, with petals thin as paper, and so delicate they would crack if you touched them. All of them lit by an aurora borealis flushing pink and green across the sky. Very romantic.
His romantic sensibilities may have been stashed and shuttered away for a while, boxed into the fluttering hands and flailing limbs of this incarnation. But - River Song. Oh, River Song. She was mad and she was impossible, and it had taken him a little while, admittedly, but he’d grown into an easy acceptance now that somehow the curl of her hair and the curve of her waist had him taking out and dusting off all the neglected bits of himself.
Everything that was beautiful and wonderful in the Universe - he was going to show her it. He had an itinerary in his head, constantly in flux as he added in new locations and disregarded others; names and places playing across his mind.
Her first night away from Stormcage was a hard act for him to follow. There had been all the stars of Calderon Beta shining onto their upturned faces, light pouring over them like water, brighter than day, a billion suns filtered through the planet’s atmosphere to kiss at their faces warmly. It was a hard act to follow - but how could he have offered any less than all the stars that could ever be seen to the woman who ripped time apart for him, and now languished in prison on his behalf? However the Ice Gardens were certainly impressive from memory - and if it was a bit of a faded and old memory, a bit dog eared at the edges, well all the better to share the wonder with her a bit fresher, all the sweeter to see the shapes and lights of the place reflected in her eyes.
Cronos Minor was a small planet, locked into a sweeping elliptical loop around its mother sun. It only reached the farthest point of the loop away from that sun every 300 years. Then, the whole sphere froze dramatically, locked into a mini ice age by forces that had no consideration for its molten core. Artisans from over the small spiral galaxy the planet was located in, converged on it, scrambling over the surface and covering it in intricate carvings and sculptures.Travellers came from everywhere - from all over the universe - to view this act of collective craftsmanship entwined with the forces of nature. An ethereal and motionless sight, fixed in time for a short while, lit by the shifting magnetism of the poles and the stars.
It was beautiful. It was chilly too, very chilly in fact, from memory. But importantly it was romantic and that somehow seemed desperately important to him when it came to River and her long confinement in the Stormcage. Somehow, she had him thinking longingly of mulled wine, of kisses on cold noses and of slipping his fingers inside her pockets to twine around hers while their breath ghosted out before them in the cold air.
He had even bought her a hat, and - to his vast satisfaction - somehow convinced her to wear it, which he felt was a bit of a coup. It was an adorable woollen bobble hat, close knitted in a chunky Tardis blue yarn (which was what had attracted him to it in the first place.) Most importantly, it had a fat pom-pom perched atop it which he thought looked rather magnificent. This was a special hat he’d bought her especially for this trip out, he told her, to keep her warm in the sub zero climate - and it even had a matching scarf and gloves. It was a romantic gesture - after all, who doesn’t like a good hat?
But she had objected strongly to wearing it at first, tugging at the pom pom, calling it “ridiculous”, and they’d almost argued. He’d insisted, wheedled, begged, and finally made some very rash promises about taking her to a number of destinations she wished to visit (destinations where, he was suspicious she was going to either to a. cause some havoc, or, b. steal things.) Promises secured, eventually she relented and agreed to wear the hat, though she swore to him that she was going to burn it afterwards
So, all of this had seemed like a terribly good idea, the planet, the Ice Gardens, the hat - an appropriate second “date” for him and his new wife. Insisting on piloting there himself, despite her protestations, had also seemed like a wonderfully gentlemanly gesture, (though if he was really honest with himself, it was because it still irked him profoundly that she could fly the Tardis better.)
But...his coordinates had been wrong. A sequence of numbers and letters, pulled out of the recesses of his memory like an old piece of string from a pocket, should have deposited them in the Central Plaza of the Ice Gardens. Instead, he had flung open the Tardis doors to be met by a blank expanse of almost blinding white, a featureless sheet of snow flung across the land. A biting wind swept across the landscape, sending drifts of powdery white rushing across the threshold of his ship.
River had been sceptical at this point, but he had been utterly and honestly convinced that he knew exactly where they had (accidentally) landed. He had banged on the console dramatically blaming the old girl for getting it wrong and insisting that he knew the exact route there.
After 25 minutes of wading through the snow against the wind, under a dull sky which seemed to be tucked into the edges of the distant horizon around them - and not a garden in sight - he had begun to feel somewhat less convinced. The sky had sagged gradually towards them, doubling to a slate grey as they walked. Finally, when it began to feel dangerously close to their heads, as if it might upend itself onto them and they would go tumbling over through its clouds, the first flakes had begun to flicker like ghosts in the corners of his vision.
All of this was why the Doctor at this moment found himself standing in a layer of deepening white while an oppressive sky above worked itself into a blizzard, sending eddies and swirls of thick flakes slicing between him and River in an erratic and shifting lacework pattern.
“That’s it. Sweetie, we are going back to the Tardis. Now. As in, right now,” she announced from behind him, her voice muffled into softness by the landscape.
He turned to her. A layer of snow was settling over the closely knitted blue of her hat, and flakes were catching in her curls, glistening and melting as she looked up at him seriously.
He swept his arm around uselessly, indicating - he didn’t know what - in the blank vista around them, a vista which was fast closing in around them as the flakes thickened.
“I’m sure it’s just over that hill.”
“Doctor, that isn’t a hill. It’s a slope at best, and “just over that hill” is clearly about a mile off. We need to go back. I’m freezing.”
She was using a voice that he was slowly learning meant she would brook no disagreement, and he couldn’t help pouting as he spun on the spot, struggling to make out anything other than fat flakes wrapping themselves around the two of them. “But - mulled cider, and sculptures, and fairy lights, and…” he trailed off, disappointment sinking deep into his belly. “I wanted to take you somewhere nice.”
“Oh sweetie.” She stepped into him and pressed herself against his chest, a gentle pressure that he could barely feel through his layers, but that still sent a warmth spreading into him. “You already have taken me somewhere wonderful. You’ve shown me all the stars at once.”
She bunched his jacket into her hands and tugged him in for a kiss. He could feel her nose and cheeks, like icicles against even his cool skin - she really was very cold. It was a stark contrast to the warmth of her tongue, which slid past his lips and over his own tongue as he met her kiss eagerly. He couldn’t help gasping into her mouth a little, and tried to clutch at her through his thick mittens, to pull her even closer against him, but came up with only fistfulls of the thick wool which encased his own hands. She broke off the kiss much too soon for his liking , then stepped back out of his embrace.
“And you will take me to other places, but right now my love, we need to go back.” He voice was insistent, and he thought of the icy brush of her cheeks against his. Her nose was also rather pink with the cold, and it looked looked utterly adorable, but utterly freezing.
It was pure white around them, as though they were boxed into an endless pale room, curtains sweeping around them, hiding them from everything and threatening to hide them from each other. The wind which had been biting to begin with was bitter now, hurling snow into their faces and sending flakes into his nostrils and eyes. She was right. He sighed inwardly, disappointed with the turn of events.
“Er…yes.” he felt the need to clear his throat and fidget as he often did after one of her, frankly marvellous, kisses, but his fluttering hands were muffled in thick wool. “Going back right now and immediately and all that.” He twisted around on the spot again, his boots digging into the snow caked surface, but his eyes couldn’t find any feature in the landscape to snag upon. “Oh. Do you know which direction we came from?”
She looked at him disbelievingly for a beat.“Oh for god’s sake….your sonic,” she said exasperatedly, gesturing to his overcoat pockets. He slipped off his mittens, and dug deep inside each pocket with both hands, but the familiar shape of the sonic didn’t slip easily into his palm like it usually did. After two minutes of emptying the varied and copious contents of both his pockets into her hands, while she sighed and shook her head, he was forced to concede defeat. He looked at her with apology and a small sense of embarrassment.
“I think it’s in my other jacket,” he admitted. He began adding items back into his pockets. String. A yo-yo. Some copper wiring. Fluorescent rubber bands. A child’s toy dinosaur. Half a small circuit board. He swivelled his head around again, searching the only visible space which now only extended to about two feet around them. “But that’s okay, I’m sure I can remember if I put my mind to it.” The last item in her hands was the Tardis key, shining golden against her blue mittens. He reached and picked it up in order to deposit it back inside his coat.
“Not a chance.” She wrapped her hand around the key tugging it from his fingers, “You are not to be trusted to get us back.” She was working her mitten off her left hand as she spoke. Her words stung, and he shot her a wounded look.
“Oh please, don’t look at me like I just shot someone. Sweetie, you’re utterly wonderful at most things, you’re just a little off your game today. Now, unfortunately I’m going to have to have my hand bared for this. If I get frostbite, it’s all your fault. Now.”
He watched as she grasped the Tardis key tightly in her hand, and allowed her eyes to flutter closed, furrowing her brow in concentration. Flicking his eyes down to the hand which enclosed the key, he saw a golden-amber light begin to escape through the cracks between her fingers, flaring the edges of her skin red as it shone. The key was glowing brightly in the confines of her hand, the light within it pulsing and responding to something inside River, he was fascinated to realise. Finally, she let out a breath and opened her eyes announcing, “This way,” before striding off into the blizzard.
He scrambled to keep up with her,long legs striding out and feet struggling for purchase on the powdery snow. “What did you just do?” he demanded.
He suspected he actually knew precisely what she’d just done - the key was a part of the Tardis after all, forged from deep inside her bones. Technically River was a part of the Tardis too, the DNA birthed inside her a legacy of the vortex. Apparently she could connect with the heart of his ship via the key and gain a sense of where She was - and he supposed it was natural that there would be an easy connection there, after all. The thought made him feel warm inside, a glow that shielded him against the cold and icy environment as he walked.
“I can sense her through the key,” River told him, unnecessarily now. “Now, hold onto my hand, I’m not coming after you in this blizzard.”
*
Some time later, they tumbled through the doors and into the welcome light and warmth of the Control Room. The muscles in his legs ached and quivered from slogging through deepening drifts of snow, his trousers were soggy and his feet and nose both completely numb. He noted that the walls of his ship were glowing brightly, spilling amber light all through the control room. A delicious warmth radiated from them, filling the room and tingling pleasantly against his nose and cheeks. A sympathetic tone thrummed from the walls and from deep beneath the floor.
“Thank you, Sexy,” he murmured, sending a wave of grateful feeling out to his ship.
“Well that was fun,” River said as she slammed the door against the blizzard raging outside. A final few flakes of snow squeezed their way in and swirled across the room, the last gasp of a miniature snowstorm, which eddied and circled before settling and melting into shining droplets on the floor.
He didn’t really have anything clever to say to that, so just stood and watched feeling somewhat sheepish as River shrugged off her coat and let it drop sodden and freezing cold to the floor with a wet thud. She pulled off her hat by the bobble and dangled it at him, rapidly melting flakes of snow slowly running down the sides and dripping onto the floor. “Thank you for the hat, sweetie.”
“You don’t mean that, you hate the hat.” He kicked at the floor. “I’ve got an idea. I think I know where I went wrong with those co-ordinates.” He rummaged through his memory, numbers and letters scratching themselves across his mind, pulled off a mitten, and let his fingers trace the shapes into the air “….Yes, five-zero-four, slash, acorn, nine-two…”
The number eight he was swiping into thin air was interrupted at its intersection by her hand, as she captured his fingers in hers. A deep sigh welled up from inside him. “River, I’m sorry. I’m no good at this….dating thing.” He threw off his second mitten, flinging it away in a temper, so that it thwacked wetly against the console, causing a grumbling buzz deep under the Time Rotor.
“Dating? Sweetie. Really. We’re married.” Without warning she began stripping away her layers unceremoniously and methodically. He stood as if hypnotised and watched the slow peel of wet clothes away from her skin, half aware that his mouth was slightly ajar and his hands were fidgeting at his sides. Her sweater followed her coat, stripped away to leave her bare armed in a tight black vest. Boots were unlaced and kicked away carelessly, then next her socks were stripped off, leaving her barefooted. He watched as she wriggled her bare toes against the heat of the floor, and decided that she really did have very very nice feet. Very kissable feet in fact. He licked his lips. She added her socks to soggy pile on the floor, the snow and ice that had rested on her outer garments now losing its battle against the the warmth of the room, and creating a small puddle which had begun to spread.
“Yes, yes, I know we’re married,” he said, finding his tongue at last. “But technically it’s only our second date since we got married.”
He watched, fascinated as she slid off her vest to reveal a midnight blue bra which cupped her breasts in elaborate lace. There was the suggestion of her nipples, a dusky pink almost-but-not-quite glimpsed just through the fabric. He found himself swallowing convulsively, trying to tear his gaze away and back to her face before it became too obvious that he was transfixed by the sight of her.
She rolled her green eyes at him, and then tossed her head and winked mischievously, clearly revelling in his attention. “Only you would talk about dating someone after you got married. That’s back to front, my love.”
It was like an echo bouncing around the room, the truth of her words just then. Back to front. Past. Future. All tangled up together, both of them moving through time against each other. Yet they had these times, these moments like today, where they moved in almost perfect sync with each other, moments when they knew each other almost equally. There would always be the diaries, the checking, the flicking of fresh white pages or of rippled age-yellowed pages, the preservation of delicate timelines whenever they met. But there were these precious times when they knew each other. Really if he was honest, all he wanted to do was carry her away with him today, to never look back and to travel with her forever; to spin out this day thinner and thinner like a web wrapped and looped around the stars, until it had no beginning and no end and it seemed as if they had always been together. That would be some second date.
Her voice interrupted his thoughts.
“You do know how to date a girl, Doctor. You showed me the stars after all. If we’re calling that a first date I think it went rather well, wouldn’t you say? Very romantic. And as a second date….well….” she left the sentence unfinished, the silence dragging out, punctuated only by the drip-drip of water from his coat. He realised he was still clad in his sodden clothes, which were growing heavier and heavier as the last of the ice and snow melted, sinking deep into the fibres of his garments. He really should get around to taking them off at some point...but not right now. Because now her nimble fingers were unbuttoning her trousers, peeling them down her shapely legs, and pushing at them until they crumpled to the floor, to be kicked aside to join the spreading puddle.
He tried to stop himself from fidgeting, but it was immensely difficult since all of him felt like it was filling up with heat and sparks, which wanted to rattle out the end of his fingers. It could have just been the wet warmth of his clothes against his skin, and the way he was beginning to feel uncomfortably hot from the warmth radiating out of the walls like waves, but he doubted it .
More likely it was the way her matching blue lace knickers cut a perfect slant across tops of her thighs, soft scallops of lace pushed against creamy skin. More likely, it was River Song, her hair drying to wild corkscrews, her eyes greener than green and looking at him like he was the only thing in the world right then.
Suddenly he felt impossibly silly stood there in his thick coat, and began trying to shrug it off.
She laughed, a full and warm throaty sound that echoed off the walls, reverberating back sounding even warmer again as if it was wrapped in the heat and in the light. “Really sweetie, there’s no need to blush. Though I do like it.”
She stepped towards him, helping him to pull off his overcoat and letting it fall away carelessly, quick fingers unravelling his bowtie and pulling it from under his collar with a swift shifting rasp of silk against cotton. He watched as she wrapped the bow tie twice around her fist and kissed it, looking up at him with wide eyes, the silk a shining black line around her knuckles. As he looked down at the press of her lips to the fabric, his breathing hitched a little as a wave of fondness and tenderness spread through him. It felt suddenly like she’d somehow caught his breath in the silk wrapped around her hand, and was holding it there. Her eyes were smiling, tenderness playing at their corners, and he knew exactly what she was thinking, because it was what he was thinking too. They were remembering both their hands bound together by that strip of fabric, joined under the stars, the smell of a desert at night hanging around them like perfume.
She smiled at him, and suddenly her swift fingers were working over his shirt and travelling down his buttons, pushing his tweed jacket and shirt away from his shoulders before he could react. Jacket and shirt soon joined her clothing and his overcoat on the floor, and he stood bare chested as her fingers worked over his trouser fastenings. His arms dangled uselessly at his sides, twitching and fluttering, and he realised that he really should be doing something with them right now. He followed the nervous energy in his fingertips, let it guide him where it wanted to go - and where it wanted to go to was into her frankly glorious hair. He lifted his hands to bury them in her still-damp hair, burrowing through her curls and scraping his nails gently against her scalp. She hummed appreciatively as she worked open his trouser zip. The Tardis hummed and radiated warmth from the walls helpfully. The tone was smug, as it always was whenever River was taking either his or her own clothes off with that look in her eye.
“Shoes please,” she demanded, before strolling in a leisurely fashion towards and up the steps, to lean against the console. He was left, unanchored in the middle of the floor in a spreading puddle of water. He bent to unlace his boots, looking up at her as she lounged against the console, one hand spread over it possessively, looking for all the world as if she belonged there just in her underwear. He noticed that she had draped his bowtie over the zig-zag plotter.
“You can’t just tell me what to do, you know,” he grumbled as he kicked off his boots, trying to sound stern. “I’m the Oncoming Storm, you can’t just demand “shoes!” and expect me to just do what you say!” He balled up his socks and threw them at her, missing badly and earning him a raised eyebrow and a smirk. He scowled half heartedly, and she laughed at him again.
“Of course not, my love, I wouldn’t dream of telling you what to do.” Her voice was gently mocking but her eyes were warm as he stepped from his trousers and up the Tardis steps, into her waiting arms.
The soft warmth of her skin was welcome on his, and he pressed himself eagerly to her, sinking into her body, the heat of her melting away the memory of the snow and the wind outside. She tilted her head, offering her mouth up to him, and he pressed his lips to hers, thrills running through his nerves as she opened her mouth quickly to him. She kissed him enthusiastically, her tongue sliding against his and battling playfully for dominance. The fresh taste of her filled his mouth.
“But you always tell me what to do,” he said when they broke for air. “And I ….oh.” Her hand sliding into his boxers, and along the length of him, finished the sentence for him. She rubbed her palm up and down against him and a delicious feeling began to spread out from every place where her skin contacted his. Fire ran along his nerves and across his body, sinking through his skin and setting up a tingle deep in his flesh, which sank down to heat his very bones. She trailed her fingers up and down the length of his cock, and he gasped, thrusting forward eagerly, trying to increase the contact and create some friction, to ease the ache that was growing deep in his belly.
“Mmmmm,” she moaned against him, her face pressed into the fold of his neck, “Okay, I admit it….I do tell you what to do sometimes.”
“Most of the time,” he corrected, trying to focus as her hand wrapped him in a firm grip and slid up and down around him, the movement grabbing and carrying his thoughts away with it. “I’m much older and wiser than you, and…uh,” words deserted him as she twisted her wrist cleverly and then flicked her thumb over the sensitive head.
There was a muffled laugh against his neck, which he ignored. “You seem to think you’re in charge all the time, Doctor Song,” he told her. He let his hands slide down the curve of her back and over the lace of her knickers, cupping the curve of her bum and squeezing hard. She wriggled against him giggling into his neck.
He growled at her in mock anger, his hands sure and steady now as he ran them back up and over the sweet flare of her hips, along the rise and fall of her ribs, and then up over the swell of her breasts and the textured lace of her bra. His thumbs found the already hard pebbles of her nipples through the lace, and he rubbed at them, pleased when she moaned urgently and begged, “Please sweetie.”
He was more than happy to comply, and reached round to release her bra clasp, letting the intricate midnight blue lace fall away to reveal the creamy swell of her breasts. He hesitated for a moment, reluctant to drop the beautiful and expensive looking lingerie onto the floor, until an idea occurred to him. He slung the bra over the zig-zag plotter - it really was quite a useful feature - letting it dangle there along with his bow-tie. He brought both hands up to cup her breasts inside his palms. Their weight and shape was a familiar delight in his hands and they seemed to fit him perfectly, as if she was made for him. He ran his palms over her nipples, eliciting soft moans from her, then took them in his fingertips, tugging and squeezing at them, urged on by the increasing volume of her calls.
Her head dropped back, opening up the delicious line of her neck to him, and he leaned forwards to taste it eagerly, swiping his tongue over the skin there, scraping his teeth against her and nipping softly.
Her hand was still clasped around him in a constant motion, twisting a coil of tension tighter and tighter deep in his belly, a molten heat that grew with a rising urgency and quivered to be released. He let his hands slide from the soft skin of her breasts, wander round to her back, then slide the smooth expanse down to the edge of her knickers. He hooked his thumbs into them, then pushed them down impatiently, and he felt her move as she jiggled her legs and then stepped out of them, kicking them to the side. He thrust into her palm one last time revelling in the heat and tingle that seemed to emanate from her palm, then took her wrist firmly, pulling her hand away from him and drawing back from her. Confusion flickered across her face momentarily, until he grabbed her by the hips, lifted her up swiftly with little effort, and deposited her on the console a little more firmly than he’d intended. A small squeak of surprise escaped her as he sat her down, and he pleaded silently that he’d not just deposited her on top of any crucial controls, and that they weren’t just about to rip a hole in the space time continuum. He waited for a beat, holding his breath, braced for fire, or sparks, or juddering motion, but finally concluded they’d escaped that disaster, since his ship was doing nothing more worrying than humming smugly.
He stepped back a little to study her; her mouth was slightly open, lips parted just a litte, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright. Her legs were slightly spread as she braced her thighs against the angle of the console, and he could see the damp curls between her legs, could glimpse the slick line of her glistening in the Tardis’s light. Hormones and pheromones filled the air and played over his tongue. He hadn’t even touched her yet, but she was already soaking wet for him. That thought brought both a blush to his cheeks and deep aching lust to his belly.
Her voice was playful when she spoke “That’s another very pretty blush darling. But, now you’ve got me here, what are you going to do sweetie? I mean, you can stand there gawking all day if you like, but a girl does get impatient in the end...” She braced her arms at her sides and then spread her legs, shamelessly and deliberately wider, opening herself up to his gaze. His cock twitched as sensation angled through him at the sight of her. All thoughts of self consciousness were lost as he strode rapidly forwards to stand between her spread legs.
“Now, River,” he murmured, keeping his voice low, pressing forward against her and letting his erection brush against the curls between her legs and push up against her slickness. She moaned and wriggled, spreading warm wetness over the sensitive end of his cock. He let his hand drift from her shoulders, down over the curve of her belly, feeling her flesh shiver and shudder underneath his travelling fingers. He let them come to rest lightly - so very lightly, barely a feather of a touch - between her legs.
“What are you looking so smug about” she gasped at him, spreading her legs wider, pressing her hips forward and rubbing herself against his fingers.
“Oh, just you,” he replied. He let his fingers slide along her folds, the wetness of her carrying them easily along, feeling and exploring the intricate textures of her body and dipping shallowly into her cunt.
“I’ve got you where I want you,” he told her, as he swiped his thumb firmly over her clit. He felt her tense her thigh muscles and then she levered her hips up and pushed against his hand with as much force as she could, almost slipping completely off the console surface. He gripped her hip with his free hand, holding her in place firmly.
“Tsk, River. Very impatient.You know, really I could just leave you here to stew. Get you all worked up, then leave you to think about it.” His fingers ghosted over her folds, his thumb rubbing a steady and firm circle against her clit.
“Don’t you bloody dare,” she warned.
“Ordering me about again, Doctor Song?” he teased “That won’t get you anywhere.” He decreased the pressure, stroking over her wetness more and more softly, until her damp and tender skin was just the barest sensation against the pad of his thumb
“You’re enjoying this aren’t you,” she accused. “My god, what have I created?” She poked at his thigh with her bare toes in protest.
He just grinned at her, enjoying how helpless she apparently was under the ministrations of his hands. Then, he finally gave way to both her need and his own, pressing hard between her legs again, two fingers finding their way into her folds and dipping deep into her. He listened as she first gasped at the sudden invasion of his long fingers, and then sighed out in relief as he began to work them urgently in and out of her. He hummed in satisfaction at the sight of her arching into his hand, moaning and gasping for him.
“Please...Doctor,” she was gasping at him, as he pumped his fingers in and out of her with increasing force and pressure, curling his fingers slightly to press against her walls. “Need you....inside me. Oh god....need you to fuck me.”
He pulled his hand away, his fingers soaked in the wetness and the scent of her. Ever curious as to the taste of her, he pushed his fingers in-between his lips, letting the taste spread across his tongue. She tasted of salt and stars and of deep waters. She tasted like nothing else in the universe. He pressed his fingers to her lips next, urging her to taste herself and watching avidly as she sucked them in eagerly.
“Still ordering me about,” he murmured in response to her request, pressing his face to her hair, burying it in the clean, wild smell of her. He was so hard now, heavy and aching, and he wanted to be inside her just as urgently as she apparently wanted him there. He moved forwards slightly, pressing his firm length against her wet centre. She shifted a little, stretching her arms and thighs outwards, pressing her hips forward and up, and the head of his cock dipped just slightly into her, making him groan with lust at the promise of heat and wetness.
“Just here, sweetie?” She questioned, wriggling against him.
He grabbed her hips tightly pushing her into the console, stilling her movements. “Just here,” he agreed, snapping his hips forwards with a sharp thrust that sent him plunging into her.
Her part human body, running so much hotter than his, engulfed him in a fire that sent sensation racing over his body. He couldn’t help a moan of relief escaping him, as he began to thrust in and out of her, her slick walls grasping and fluttering around his cock, his hands still pressed to her hips anchoring her to the console. She was looking at him, her green eyes fixed on his, intense, pupils blown black and wide.
He set pace that soon had them both gasping. River was always loud anyway, he had learned that by now, and the groan she let out as he slid one hand down between them to press at her clit, echoed from the walls and seemed to set up a resonance with the hum and whir of his ship. It was source of fascination to him, so far, that despite the awkwardness and shyness that still hung around him (but that were fading fast), he could make this mad and beautiful woman emit these….well…primal noises. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to it.
He could feel her walls beginning to tighten around his cock, and when he looked up, her whole body was arched with tension, a furious concentration in her eyes, which looked down at him, blazing. He worked his thumb faster over her clit, circling wildly as he fucked hard into her, until finally she let out a long wail and he felt her come apart under his hands and around his cock. Her cries filled the control room, her muscles clenching around him, her hips and thighs spasming. He could feel his own orgasm approaching, white light coming at him hard and fast and he fought to let her ride hers out first, his thumb hard against her clit. Eventually, he couldn’t hold back. Waves of sound and light rose and crashed around him as he began thrusting fast into her, twisting his hips and hearing her emit little mews with each impact of his pelvis against her.Light crashed through him like a wave, stars filling him up as he emptied himself into her, every nerve in his body on fire and shining bright.
He may have passed out for a moment, or, at least, lost some time somewhere - which was not a very good thing for a Timelord to do, admittedly. When he came to his senses, he was slumped forwards against her, his head buried into her neck and her curls tickling his cheeks. His breathing was slowing gradually, his blood still pumping past through him, the afterburn of pleasure tingling through his nerves. The space of time in-between him pouring himself into and this moment now was a great blank.
“Well, we’ve definitely warmed up now,” she murmured, her words vibrating against his lips pressed to her neck. “It was worth slogging through that blizzard just for this.”
“Mmmmfh,” he agreed, against her soft skin, his mind slow and mellow, drifting aimlessly through avenues of time and physics and numbers and.....oh! Suddenly it hit him where he’d gone wrong with the coordinates. The right sequence suddenly drifted up into his mind, shapes and numbers and letters, the mistakes glaringly obvious now. A misplaced forward slash and an errant zero had found its way into the sequence, somehow. It must be because he was distracted by River looking all ridiculously adorable in her little bobble hat, he decided. Nothing to do with him forgetting anything. No, not at all. He jumped back from her suddenly, his sudden movement sending her sliding on her backside right off the edge of the console, where she just about caught herself on the edge and managed to land on her feet.
“Oops, sorry.” He waved his hand vaguely at her.
“What’s going on?” She demanded.
He danced backwards, suddenly aware of his nakedness, reaching for his trousers amidst the pile of clothes and finding them sopping wet and still dripping melted snow and ice everywhere.
“I’ve remembered the right coordinates!” He decided it was best to ignore his trousers, dropping them back to the floor where they landed with a squelch, and also to ignore his nudity. He bounded back up the stairs to the console, reaching to punch in the coordinates. A strong hand suddenly reached out and grabbed his wrist before his fingers made it to the keys. He looked round at her questioningly.
“No,” she told him.
“No?”
“No. I don’t fancy round two of getting lost in a blizzard and soaked to the bone. My toes have only just now stopped tingling.” She stepped behind him, pressing her naked body flush against his. “Although, admittedly, the tingling may not be entirely because of the cold.”
He felt her press a soft kiss to his shoulder, and ran his fingers longingly over the letters and numbers on his console, ghosting out the required pattern that would - he was sure - get them to the Ice Gardens.
“But,” he wheedled, “even if we do get wet through, it’s fun getting warmed up again afterwards.” He shifted around until he was facing her, taking in her green eyes, flushed cheeks and hair which was now completely dry and hopelessly messy, corkscrewing from all directions out of her head. “Plus...ice sculptures. Mulled Wine. Fairy lights.” He pressed a kiss to her nose.
“You’re a hopeless romantic,” she told him, warmly and gave him a long suffering sigh.
“So, yes then?” he bounced excitedly on his heels, watching as she rolled her eys dramatically at him.
“Yes, OK.” She pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “Once we’ve got some dry clothes on.”
He turned, and began punching in the absolutely-definitely-the-right-coordinates.
“Oh, there’s conditions, sweetie,” she said behind him.
“What are they?” He asked over his shoulder, wondering what else he would have to add to the list of rash promises he had already had to make today in order to convince her to wear the hat.
“Number one, i am not wearing that hat. And number two,” she stepped up beside him and flung a lever down.
“I’m driving.”
Fic masterlist