"River, why don't you like my hats?" the Doctor asked plaintively, clamping a hand firmly on the current one. Fortunately they were in the Tardis, so she couldn't shoot it off.
She gave him a slow-growing, thoroughly naughty grin. He knew that grin, his blood pumped a little faster, part in trepidation, part in fascination, he never knew what she was going to do.
She stepped closer, he watched her with leery eyes, but refrained from stepping back. She pressed herself right up against him, soft and strong. She gently pulled his resisting hand from his hat.
"It's not that I dislike your hats, Sweetie," she said in dulcet tones. She settled his hand on her hip and slipped her hands up around his neck. She tilted her head. "It's just that they get in the way..." She buried her fingers in his hair, and slid her mouth over his with a soft moan.
One red tipped fingernail popped his hat off his head. It tumbled to the floor and down the stairs.
He didn't notice.
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