Disclaimer: I own nothing but student loans and some cuddling elephant salt and pepper shakers. The latter of which is actually a Christmas gift. So suing me would be great. In fact, I invite it. Take my loans, make me see the error of my wicked ways.
Dedication: For my skanky-ass roommate Ruby. I say that with love.
A/N: I wouldn't recommend that you read this, but then, I can't really stop you.
The Career Series
After saving a futuristic human society on the moon from all manner of danger, the Doctor's first thought was to return to the Tardis for a bath, possibly a cup of tea, and definitely a few jammie dodgers. He rarely stuck around after his work was done, but the Luna University student who had helped him—however clumsily and slightly unwittingly—offered him a bed and some pie his mother had sent him, and the Doctor was nothing if not whimsical. Spending the night in Ned's apartment was the soul of whimsy. The Doctor had tossed the offer around in his mind for a few minutes before shrugging, grinning, and following his gangly young friend to a rather questionable and grungy apartment.
The pie was, as advertised, delicious, and the air mattress had all manner of entertaining possibilities. The Doctor didn't sleep much, so he spent much of the night sneaking slivers of the pie until it was gone, making a list of all the ways air mattresses could be used, and flipping through Ned's limited cable. Although slightly dull, he appreciated Ned's gratitude, and it was nice to spend time with another person again. Since Amy and Rory had taken to life on Earth once more, only traveling with him on occasion, and River was an intermittent and impossible-to-predict companion at best, he'd been alone. The Tardis was big and beautiful, but she was also empty.
In the morning Ned introduced the Doctor to frozen waffles, and the Doctor was about to head off when Ned made one more offer that the Doctor for one reason or another couldn't refuse.
"You should come to my class, Doc," Ned said, mouth full of waffle. "It probably won't be that interesting to you, but my Professor..." Ned nudged the Doctor's shoulder, waggling his eyebrows in a way that the Doctor knew suggested something, though he didn't specifically know what. "I mean, you ought to reward yourself after saving the moon, right? This Professor is hot, man. She's worth the extra hour." The Doctor wasn't entirely sure what Ned meant, but the subject of the class was something complicated, obscure, and historical—all of which appealed to the Doctor greatly. He barely remembered his own school days, but he did so enjoy listening in on history lectures now and then, planet to planet, if not only to point out the inaccuracies. So he agreed, borrowing a t-shirt and jeans from Ned—"trust me," Ned had said—and following his young companion to class. They sat down in the front row, the Doctor crossing and uncrossing his legs several times, his fingers drumming restlessly against the arms of his chair. The class was large, rowdy, and predominately male, but the moment the Professor walked in, the entire room went silent.
Except for the Doctor, who let out a yelp of surprise and covered his mouth immediately with his hands.
"Hello, Benjamin," purred River Song as she spotted him. Her expression was caught between amused and bewildered, and his hadn't wavered from shocked. She looked away from him to address the class, addressing a term paper they were apparently working on as she set her bag down on the desk and began to organize her papers. She seemed to forget that he was there altogether as she spoke to the class, but he could do nothing but stare, open-mouthed, at her. Oh, he knew she was a Professor—but he hadn't thought that—he didn't know why—he wasn't sure how—
It was the situation, he decided, that had him on edge. He was her student. Not really, of course, but it was the shift in power—or rather, the exaggeration of their power dynamic that twisted his stomach in intricate knots. River was almost always a step ahead of him, quite literally. She knew him inside and out, and he didn't know her quite as well. She could keep up with his crazy plans, and she was far more useful in the dangerous situations he inevitably found himself in than he was. And then of course there was the power she wielded over him by virtue of her smile and her voice and her walk and her hair and her strength and her ability to wield a gun with such finesse... River had a power over the Doctor that no one else did—or that no one had in a very long time—and it drove him mad in more ways than one, and to have that capitalized upon made him feel as though he could crawl out of his very skin.
Additionally, Ned elbowing him in the side and suggestive expressions in reference to River made him cross his arms and purse his lips. River wasn't hot. The Doctor looked her up and down as she listened to a student's question patiently. She wasn't dressed too provocatively, though her attire was certainly a departure from the more practical garb he usually saw her in. Her skirt grazed the top of her knees, and yes, it was perhaps a little tight, but it wasn't like she had anything to hide. And her scoop-necked blouse revealed a little more than it maybe ought to have, but then, she couldn't help the size of her chest. The Doctor sighed. Okay, so River was hot, but he didn't want Ned pointing it out.
"Oi, pretty boy," River called, and the Doctor snapped to attention.
"Pretty?" he said, trying not to focus on her lips as she smirked.
"I'd say you think so. You've been staring at yourself in the window for the past ten minutes." The class tittered, and the Doctor flushed, sitting up and habitually reaching up to adjust his bow tie, though he wasn't wearing one.
"I wasn't staring, I was thinking—thinking hard, and my eyes weren't focused. I wasn't staring at myself—"
"Very well," River answered, a little impatiently. "While the class gets their notes together, could you tear yourself from your thoughts and step into my office?"
"No need to be cross," the Doctor muttered under his breath as he stood, ignoring the amused glances of his temporary classmates and one slightly crude thumbs up from Ned, and followed River through a door in the back of the classroom and into her office.
"So," River began, closing the door behind them and stepping toward her desk. She rummaged around in the drawers until she found her journal. "Where are we, and what are you doing here?" The Doctor chuffed a sigh and shrugged.
"You're a Professor, yeah?"
River gestured to the room around them. "Evidently."
"I'd say you haven't done much that I haven't."
"Good enough for me," River answered, snapping her journal shut. Without warning she approached the Doctor, fisted her hands in his thin, borrowed t-shirt and pulled him to her. She pressed her lips to his, and he let out a grunt of surprise, his arms flying every which way. He seemed to calm for a second, his palms coming to rest against her arms before he remembered his objections and pulled away, wiping his lips off with the back of his hand.
"You—students, River, you have them! Out there!"
"Oh, calm down, sweetie. We have a good five minutes before we need to go back out." With that she hooked an arm behind his neck and pulled him to her once more. This time he hesitated for only a second before reciprocating, his hands coming to rest on her hips as she pushed him toward the door. He contacted the wood with a dull thud, and though dimly he registered that they ought to be quiet, his concern with being discovered was trumped by his preoccupation with River's lips. He trailed a hand delicately up her spine before tangling it in her hair, pulling gently and providing himself with a better angle to deepen the kiss. She let out a sound caught between a moan and a purr against his mouth, and the noise sent a delicious shiver up and down his spine. His other hand slipped from her hip to grip her ass, pulling her into him with a roughness he didn't entirely know he possessed—River brought out the strangest sides of him, he decided, though it wasn't at all a bad thing. She pulled her mouth from his, pressing kisses along his jawline before her lips found his neck; the bite was sharp and unexpected, but she immediately soothed him with her tongue before repeating the process. His eyes drifted closed, his head lolling back against the wood as her mouth worked against his skin. One of her hands slipped between their bodies, ghosting across the front of his suddenly too-tight jeans, earning her a shudder from him. Her lips were at his ear, then, and he swallowed.
"Sweetie," she whispered, nipping at his earlobe.
"Mm," he managed, one of his hands toying with the zipper at the back of her skirt.
"Time to get back to class." He had barely processed her words before she reached around him to twist the doorknob, brushing past him and into the room, immediately launching into her lecture. The Doctor followed after a moment, feeling incredibly confused, frustrated, and, most awkwardly, aroused.
He fell back into his seat behind Ned, leaning away and adjusting his legs in an attempt to find a more comfortable position and to make his present state less obvious. Ned didn't ask about his meeting with the Professor, and the Doctor wouldn't have answered if he had. As River continued her lecture, the Doctor completely missed out on correcting anything erroneous she may have said—although he recognized that, as River was also a time traveler, she wasn't as prone to err as most Professors—too distracted was he by the way her skirt clung to her, by the swell of breasts, by the wry curve of her lips as she listened to a student's fumbling answer to her question. Once she bent over her desk to find a paper, causing every male in the room (and a couple of women) to lean forward at the additional display of cleavage, but her eyes were on him as she licked her lips surreptitiously before continuing.
The Doctor wondered vaguely when he'd become just as powerless against her wiles as the average frat boy with no small amount of irritation. He wasn't human, after all, and though he certainly wasn't asexual, he tended to have better control over his sexuality than most—depending on his regeneration, different bodies had different needs he found, but it was extremely rare that the Doctor found himself capitulated completely to his baser instincts. But as River continued to parade around before him, casting him the occasional glance that made his knees week even sitting, he was absolutely helpless to do anything but stare at her and shift to accommodate the increasingly restrictive and uncomfortable pants he was wearing. He kept trying to pay attention to what she was saying as opposed to her lips as she formed the words, but he inevitably got sidetracked by his suddenly mutinous mind, playing all sorts of scenarios that were hardly appropriate for the college classroom. He checked his watch every few seconds, and Ned was beginning to look concerned for his sanity as he tapped his foot restively against the floor, his fingers clutching the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white. When the class finally ended the Doctor didn't move but to shake Ned's hand. He waited for everyone to file out of the room before finally standing and making for River as she slowly put her papers back in her bag.
"Enjoy the lecture, sweetie?" she asked innocently. He stood at her side, close enough to her that she could feel his chest against her shoulder, his breath on her neck. She turned to face him with a smile, and found him even closer than she had thought—they stood a hair's breadth apart. His eyes bored into hers, dark, scintillating hazel that forced her to fight off a swoon.
"It was quite enlightening," he agreed, reaching a hand up to toy with a curl of her hair, his breath on her lips.
"Rubbish," she said, "you knew everything I was saying."
"Honestly, I haven't the faintest idea what the lecture was even about."
"Weren't you paying attention?" she asked, feigning offense as she leaned her body into his, biting her lower lip as he released her hair and trailed his hand down the side of her body, cupping it around her hip.
"Did you intend me too?"
"Not at all," she said with a wicked grin, shifting her hips forward ever-so-slightly. His jaw clenched and he closed his eyes for a moment, his lips barely brushing hers as she continued. "I just figured that the Oncoming Storm had a little more focus than all of that."
"Not where you're concerned, Professor Song."
"Oh, Professor. I like you calling me that." He smiled, and she let out a low hum, slipping her hands around his waist, her fingers gently brushing the skin just beneath the hem of his t-shirt. "Are you going to kiss me or what, Doctor?"
"No, Professor Song," the Doctor said, feeling uncharacteristically mischievous as he stepped back from her slightly, resting his forehead against her temple, his lips brushing her ear as he added, "I'm going to fuck you." River let out a low chuckle that shot straight through him, pressing a lingering kiss to his neck and throwing her arms over his shoulders.
"In my classroom, honey?"
"The students are gone."
"My, we are far along for you, aren't we?"
"There isn't another class coming, is there?" he asked after a moment, peering around anxiously. She laughed again, pulling his head down to press her lips briefly to his.
"Still you, though," she murmured before he finally leaned in fully and kissed her. There was no build up—it was fierce and passionate and open-mouthed and hot from the moment their lips touched, and he lifted her up to set her on her desk, but as he tried to pull her closer to him, he found her skirt restricting. He couldn't spread her legs at all, the fabric was too tight. He whined a little pathetically against her mouth. "You'll have to unzip it." She said, sliding off of the desk and turning around. He took a moment to swipe her hair to the side and press a lingering kiss to her shoulder before trailing his hands down her spine, coming to slowly pull the exposed zipper of her skirt; half-way down he stopped, raising a brow.
"Is there another class coming?"
River grabbed his wrist and pulled it in front of her, glancing at his watch with a shrug and a wink tossed over her shoulder as she released his arm and rubbed her hips against him. He grunted, not trusting himself to say anything at all. "Not for fifteen whole minutes."
"Fifteen minutes?" he exclaimed, "fifteen minutes and you want me to—"
"If you recall, my love, I didn't suggest anything..." She grabbed his hands again and wrapped them around her waist, slowly edging them up until, before he realized it, she had covered her breasts with his hands.
"You aren't really giving me much of a choice, Professor," he ground out through clench teeth as she shifted her weight against him again. The idea that she'd be hell on a dance floor occurred to him, and he couldn't decide whether or not that was a theory better left untested or something he wanted to ascertain as soon as physically possible. "But fifteen minutes isn't—"
"Best hurry, then," she said, and he sighed heavily, though the sound became more of a moan halfway through, one hand remaining to squeeze a breast through the thin fabric of her shirt, the other dropping down to the zipper of her skirt once again. It unzipped the whole way down, and fell to the floor. The Doctor wasn't necessarily surprised, but he was rather glad that he hadn't made any progress with her zipper earlier, because had he known that River wasn't wearing any underwear, the lecture would have been far less bearable.
"You bad, bad girl," the Doctor growled against her neck, his hands sliding down her bare hips and relishing the feeling of her warm, smooth skin. She chuckled, and made to turn around, but he stopped her, his hands climbing upward under her shirt to fondle her chest through her bra, pushing his hips against hers and forcing her against the edge of the desk a little roughly, though he knew she hardly minded. "You said we ought to hurry," he added, hands roaming once more, one coming to part her legs. River moaned softly, and he took it as approval to continue. "Besides," the Doctor said, his thumb brushing over her clit teasingly, "there's something so novel and... decadent about bending my Professor over her desk and spreading her legs." River moaned in earnest at his words, planting her hands on the desk and obliging him as he leaned against her back, forcing her to bend over her desk, as he had said. His hand continued to play between her legs until he had her gasping, her hips rolling against his hand.
"When did you become such a dirty old man?" she asked breathily, groaning her approval as he slid two fingers slowly inside of her.
"You bring out the worst in me," he murmured, craning his neck over her shoulder to kiss and bite and lick and suck on her neck, fucking her so slowly with his fingers that she thought she'd go mad. Still, she managed a brief laugh, pushing her hips back against him and forcing his hand deeper, groaning when he finally hit the spot that made her cry out.
"Or the best."
"You never could tell the difference," he said, pulling away from her neck and the red mark he'd left. He felt her clenching around him, felt her begin to come undone as he drove his fingers in and out of her, deeper and harder and faster until her cries became a constant stream of breathy moans—right before she came he withdrew his hand, and she sagged, panting, against the desk, and though it was quiet, he would have bet his life that she cursed him with some fairly colorful Gallifreyan she certainly didn't learn from him. He stepped back from her slightly, his hands finding the fly of his jeans as he unbuttoned and unzipped, noting (not for the first time), how right she'd been when, upon regenerating, she'd claimed to have it 'all going on down there.' Her skin was smooth and soft, the color of honey, slick with sweat. He approached her again with a groan, pressing his palms to the wood on either side of her hips, and she made an impatient noise as she felt him, hard, against the small of her back.
"Get on with it, then," she said, and he grinned at her impatience, leaning forward to rest his face against the side of hers, one hand reaching up to tangle in her hair, pulling her face back so that he could kiss her. His other hand moved from the wood of her desk to grip her hip, and with a sigh he finally pushed into her, a little less gently than he had planned, though she hardly seemed to mind. He swallowed the noises she made as he began to move within her, tentatively at first, aware that every time he pressed against her she pressed against the desk, but she never minded a little roughness, and after a moment of allowing him his graciousness began to push her hips back into him with every thrust, and soon he couldn't help himself. He pounded into her again and again, at the perfect angle to hit the spot that made her writhe against him; they continued to kiss, lips and teeth and tongue and the muted smack of flesh against flesh as he made good on his promise to fuck her.
River was mindful of their lack of privacy, and it was only through a great amount of effort and compartmentalization that she managed to keep her volume down, and god, the Doctor may have behaved like an awkward teenager at times, but he certainly knew his way around a woman's body—hers, in particular, and she felt her world shrinking, everything falling away but the feeling of him inside of her and all around her, of his warm body wrapped around hers, of his hand as it slid down the front of her and forced it between her pelvis and the desk; he had barely touched her when she felt herself flying over the edge, her mouth moving from his as she gasped and moaned. His pace increased as she came, his thrusts erratic and uneven until he cried out, biting down gently on her shoulder to muffle himself before he slumped against her.
River relaxed against the desk until it became uncomfortable, easing herself out from beneath him as she stepped away and reached down to retrieve her skirt, sighing contentedly. The Doctor took a few more moments to recover, but eventually stood, smiling at her affectionately as she wrapped the skirt around her and turned around, waiting for him to zip it. He did, and she turned back to face him, tucking her shirt back in before leaning up to him—she had intended to peck him on the lips, but somehow she ended up wrapping her arms around him, and his around her, kissing with a fervor that belied their recent activities. He pulled away and ducked his head beneath her chin, licking a stray bead of sweat from her skin, his hands playing up and down her ribcage affectionately.
"However did Ned convince you to lose the bow tie?"
"He said it would help me blend," the Doctor responded with a shrug. "He also said his Professor was hot."
"Mm," River hummed with a smile, reaching up to run a hand through his mussed hair, "and was she?" The Doctor shrugged noncommittally, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead, then to each temple, and lastly to the tip of her nose.
"My wife is hotter."
"You should probably get back to her, then."
The Doctor sighed, resting his forehead against hers and closing his eyes. Although he knew she was being coy, she was also being serious—their time together was always severely limited. Staying in the same time stream for any extended period of time could wreak havoc; too much potential for paradox. They spent a week together, once, but never any longer than that. Many of her nights in prison were spent with him, of course, but never in the right order—the first time he'd gone to fetch her she had been in the Stormcage for five years, though she had assured him that he'd come to visit her almost every night previous, which had consoled him, but the wibbly-wobbly nature of their relationship was an endless source of frustration and grief, especially as he had come to love her.
"I should," he agreed, and she frowned, reaching down to grab his wrist.
"We still have two minutes, though."
"What could we possibly do in two minutes?"
"Oh, sweetie," she purled, and his knees knocked together at the look in her eyes as she grinned up at him. "I guess you don't know me that well after all."