the happy meeting of the immovable object and the irresistible force
"Care for a dance?"
She's standing out in the garden, deep in shadows while she watches the party through the windows. The swirling lights and her parents dancing – just so in love and happy. And the Doctor. She smiles at the sight of him gathering a crowd of small children on the dance floor. "Cutting it a bit dangerously fine even for you, aren't you my love?" She arches a brow and turns to see him leaning against the ivy encrusted fencing, wearing his usual tweed and bowtie and a grin on his face.
"Ah well, I happen to know no one in there comes out here at all. Foreknowledge you know – at times it can be a terrible thing, and then other times you think to yourself 'what did my wife do for those hours while she waited?' and ah! Sudden window of opportunity, dear." He is grinning and she smiles fully back – it feels like so long since she's seen him. Proper him – she cannot seem to contain the joy within at the sight of his smug grin.
"Yes, well, all the same, no need to be in full view of the windows, sweetie." She points out, walking up to him and snagging the sleeve of his tweed before dragging him along the fence until they can move behind it. There is an empty churchyard at their backs now and she pulls him against her, her arms around his neck as his hands wind through her hair with ease.
"Did you enjoy the wedding?" His voice is soft and they can hear the music from the hall spilling across the night air, so he pulls her against him properly, folding his hand around hers, his other arm disentangling from her hair to snake around her waist. They aren't moving much, but there is a sway to their bodies, and she can feel his double heartbeats over hers.
It's close enough.
"It's nice to see them so happy. So in love." She smiles softly and he looks down at her with amusement. "And of course, it's nice to see you happy, too. When you're not staring a hole into the cover of my diary, that is." She slaps his shoulder lightly and he laughs, his whole face lighting up.
"Oh you've no idea how tempting it was. There in my possession, full of all kinds of secrets." He brings his face closer to hers as he whispers and she laughs quietly.
"Are you telling me you didn't look? Maybe you really came to distract me, my love, while your younger self gives in to temptation."
"Maybe I did." He has danced them to the fence, pressing her against it, his hips pushing into hers as his face tilts ever closer. She licks her lips in anticipation and he smiles. "Are you going to do anything about it?"
Her hands slide up into his hair and she pulls his mouth to hers, kissing him with a hunger she wasn't aware had possessed her. The ache was just so constant now, it was almost unnoticeable. But as her mouth opens under his and his tongue slides in with practised ease, she feels tears in her eyes. Her arms grow heavy and she drops them slightly to rest against his shoulders. She clutches him to her while his hands slide down over her jacket, petting the faux fur as he moans into her mouth, his fingers tightening around her waist.
When she pulls back she is short of breath and his hair is mussed slightly, his face flushed and his eyes dark and wide on her. "Oh, I've missed you." She whispers her confession in a barely audible voice and he hugs her against him, his face dropping into her hair, where he presses kisses gently.
"Oh, River – I was so hard on you now, wasn't I? Hush, it's okay. It will be okay – I'm not going to leave you deal with him alone you know." He whispers the promise into her curls and she takes a deep breath.
"But back-to-front –" she points out and he scoffs at that as she frowns. "You're crossing your own timeline." She stresses and he smiles, his hands sliding up to cradle her face in them as he looks down at her.
"And who knows better where I've been and not been, hmm? You silly girl." He chuckles and she rolls her eyes in exasperation.
"Hardly a girl, my love." She points out in a dry tone and he chuckles. "And I just thought – you said – your firsts my lasts. The last time I saw you – younger you I mean... I kissed you. And you..."
He kisses her once more, his head dropping to hers and his thumbs brushing across the apples of her cheeks as he snogs her senseless. "Rule one, River." His voice is breathless when he finally draws back to speak and she grins.
"You are a terribly bad boy, Doctor." His hands roam her figure and he nods, unbuttoning her coat and slipping his hands underneath only to go still, frowning.
"You're wearing a dress." He points out the obvious and she smiles up at him in bemused confusion.
"Of course I am, you daft man."
"But you weren't- oh." He smiles and leans down to press a soft kiss to her cheek. "Oh I see. Delightful, really."
"What's delightful? Doctor you are-" He lifts a hand, pressing a finger to her mouth. Once she stops speaking he drags it across her lips, his other hand pushing her coat off and letting it fall to the grass with a muffled thump.
"Spoilers, dear." He grins and she rolls her eyes in mock exasperation. "Oh you love it." He leans down to lift her hair away from her neck, pressing a soft kiss there, his tongue darting out to run the length of her throat. She moans, her head tilting back and his hands sliding down to brush against her jaw, and the other side of her throat. His hand continues meandering down over the silk of her black wrap dress, as his mouth drags over the pearls she's wearing so he can draw his teeth against her clavicle. Her hands are in his hair once more, holding tightly as her hips surge forward into his.
"Doctor!" Her voice is breathy and he chuckles against her skin, even as his hands are at her waist, his nimble fingers making quick work of the side knot. "We can't – we're in a churchyard for heaven's sakes. My parent's wedding-" His laugh is muffled against her skin as he pulls the dress open, pulling back to glance down at her with a heated expression.
"Oh this is going to be damn near murder. Rather selfless of me too, dear. I don't think I quite properly appreciated it." She frowns up at him through the haze of heady lust singing through her veins. Despite her protests, her hearts are quickening, her breathing is ragged and her skin is all but humming under his hands.
"You aren't even making proper sense, sweetie."
"Well not yet. But I will have. Afterward. Maybe I'll just pop by- mmm, yes, that'd be nice. Or better yet, you could pop by." He is moving in closer now, his hands sliding down to her hips, where he grips her tightly for one moment, before releasing her only to drag his fingertips up over the planes of her stomach, skating over ribs until he can press his palms against her breasts. "Oh you are gorgeous, my River." She moans in response and he pushes the dress off next, and somehow she finds herself in the warm night air, all but naked with her husband pressing her into the fence – ivy itching at her back, but his hands are mapping the front of her, and oh, she doesn't care. Her hands slide down between them, reaching for him, but he shakes his head. "Not enough time."
"Time?" She blinks up at him in a daze and he leans in closer, his face burrowing into her hair as his hands smooth back down her torso, before sliding into her knickers with ease. She gasps as he stretches his fingers along her wetness, her hips jerking and she can feel his smile against the skin of her neck.
"Lean into me, dear." She obeys without question, leaning forward, her face buried into the shoulder of his tweed as his fingers slip within her and her breath hitches in her chest on a moan. His free hand sweeps her hair aside, and he presses a kiss just below her ear. "Think of it like foreplay, River. You're going to have to go get your diary back soon. And your manipulator. And then you can meet me." He whispers coordinates into her skin and she nods, her eyes sliding shut as she burns them into her memory. His fingers curl within her, deeper and deeper, his palm pressing against her clit and she clings to him, her hands on his shoulders. He bends his head until his face is pressed against the back of her shoulder. He kisses her there, biting and sucking and she is sure he must be leaving a mark.
He loves that, she knows. Marking her in small ways that she can carry forward with her, in her own time stream. Messages to himself, he calls them.
His hand is moving against her smoothly, in and out and in and out and in – her breathing is shallow and his free hand is large and warm against the cool skin of her back as she turns her face into his neck. She bites him just as he is unhooking the clasp on her bra and he hisses, the hand in her knickers pressing up, up, up and stilling deep within her. She can't breathe.
He slides the bra from her body, pushing her back against the fence and bending before her to move his mouth over first on breast and then the other. His isn't gentle – he bites and sucks, leaving tiny marks all over her skin as she gasps above him, her hands fluttering ineffectually at her sides as his clever fingers continue to stroke her, inside and out. Her hearts are thudding in her chest and she watches with glassy eyes as he crouches before her, sliding the hand in her knickers out with ease, pausing to lick his fingers as she watches. "Oh god, Doctor." He smiles, his expression smug and her stomach flutters, like hummingbirds wings beating inside – she loves that smile. She loves this face – and oh she loves him so very, very much it feels like her hearts are bombs. They could explode at any second, but she would die happily.
He reaches up, hooking fingers under elastic and sliding her knickers down over her legs, and she steps out willingly, her hearts pounding – she is naked but for her shoes and pearls, and anyone could come along and she –
She doesn't care, because he is pressing soft kisses and nips – another mark she can feel on the inside of her thigh, quite high – against her skin before he smiles that same smug smile once more and buries it between her thighs. Her hands thread through his hair, clenching softly as she moans. His tongue is cool against her over-heated flesh, and he licks her slowly, as if he hadn't just been scolding her about time and it's restraints.
His tongue circles her clit lazily, as his hand slides below his chin and he curls his fingers within her once more. She's so on edge – and it's been so long – it doesn't take much. The press of his fingers, running against the rough flesh within her just as his teeth scrape over her clit and she is bursting. Biting her lip hard as she comes, her whole body shaking above him. He presses softer kisses against her as she rides it out, before he stands and she hauls him against her, kissing him – uncaring of the fact that his mouth is still wet from what he's just been doing. He moans, his tongue sliding against hers, and when his hips push into her, she can feel his erection straining there and she whimpers, trying to wrap a leg around his waist as she grinds her sensitized flesh over him.
"Oh god River, shhh, shhh, stop." He chokes the words out, pulling back slightly to look down at her. She whinges in protest and he shakes his head with a grin. "My bad, bad girl. Come on – almost time now. His TARDIS is parked in Amy's garden. You have to be waiting."
"Are you serious?" He smiles at her incredulous tone, one hand reaching up to slide the pearls down as he takes in the sight of her. He doesn't respond, but lowers his head and bites her there, hard – she cries out – she can't help it and her hands grip the lapels of his tweed for support, because she's fairly certain her legs can't hold her up. When he lifts his head, it's almost as if he's inspecting his work. She glares at him and he smiles crookedly, one corner of his mouth lifting.
"Do you remember the coordinates?" He asks and she nods, in a daze. She feels him slide her coat back over her shoulders, the satin lining cool against her skin and –
"Doctor, my dress." She points out and he grins.
"Sorry, confiscated." He doesn't sound sorry at all and she stares at him in disbelief.
"And my knickers?" She arches a brow and his smile only grows.
"Oh so very confiscated, wife." She watches as he buttons her coat and smoothes his hands down over her once more, adjusting her pearls just so.
"Doctor, I have to go get my diary from younger you and you want me to be – be – I'm not wearing anything under this coat. If he – you – oh god – what if he notices?" She frowns as she speaks, because it's an odd thing but he simply laughs, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the tip of her nose, his eyes lighting up with mischief.
"I know." He lifts his brows and she flushes, wondering if this was something he remembered. Something necessary for his younger self. From what she'd gleaned on this adventure, he wasn't as flirty or as inclined to view her sexually at the moment, despite his intrigue. Hell, she'd all but been busting out of the Cleopatra dress, and he'd not even dropped his gaze as he scolded her about defacing cliffs.
"Okay." She breathes out the word and he meets her eyes, his warm with affection and love. "Okay."
"Clever girl." His fingers tangle through her hair, picking out bits of ivy and fluffing it with a smile. "No worries, you'll see me very soon. Well really very soon if we're counting younger me, but I'll be waiting for you, I promise. Just keep in mind you have to be gone before Amy and Rory get to the TARDIS, River. Tonight's rather important, you know." He laughs and she rolls her eyes, pulling a face.
"I'd rather not think about the specific mechanics, thank you very much." He laughs at that, and she shakes her head. He kisses her one last time, harsh and swift before releasing her abruptly.
"Go on, you'll be late." She smoothes a hand over her buttoned coat and pulls her hair free of the collar, fluffing it a bit more. "I love you, River."
She smiles at him and blows him a kiss. "Mutual. I'll see you soon." She walks off, feeling the slip of satin against her already sensitized skin, and realizes just how much this is going to drive her a bit crazy with want – standing in front of his clueless younger self with just her coat and shoes on, while he undoubtedly awkwardly flirts and tries to suss out who she is. She can feel an ache between her thighs just at the thought of it.
And judging by his laughter echoing behind her, he knows it.
She doesn't have to wait long actually, before she hears him coming, humming to himself as he walks toward the TARDIS. She smiles at the sound, her eyes trailing over him eagerly. He's always looked good in that suit, no matter how many times she's seen it in her lifetime. He's opening the TARDIS doors when she steps out with a smile.
"Did you dance?" He stills and she smiles. "Well, you always dance at weddings, don't you?"
He turns to face her, arms spread wide. "You tell me."
"Spoilers." She personally never would have imagined the joy she gets out of frustrating his younger self with all his own tricks. So she smiles and flirts, adopts his own smugness and inflection. She has quickly learned to laugh when she feels like screaming. But it feels easier tonight. Maybe because the world has been saved yet again, by him. Maybe because he has been saved, yet again, by his Ponds. Maybe because she knows that her husband is waiting for her, and nothing is over yet.
He walks toward her, her diary in his hand and she moves forward to meet him. "The writing's all back, but I didn't peek." He maintains eye contact carefully as he says it and she smiles outwardly, cursing him inwardly because she knows it's a lie. It's almost adorable that he thinks he can lie to her at this point.
"Thank you." She tucks her diary under her arm and he holds up her manipulator as well, handing it over to her, his fingers brushing against her own gently. He is still him no matter the age, or face, so she feels that same thrill shoot down her spine and her skin tightens and prickles underneath her coat. She can feel the weight of his gaze as she straps the manipulator to her wrist.
"Are you married, River?" His question is slow and deep and she only just manages to not fumble with the straps as she looks up to find him watching her intently.
"Are you asking?" She answers his question with her own, her smile barely contained and burning within her throat and chest. It is dying to escape, she knows.
"Yes." His voice has that still deep quality to it, and it runs through her, head to toes. The corner of her mouth lifts, just slightly at his swift response.
"Yes." She lifts her brows and her smile increases that much more as he blinks – clearly startled by a forthright, simple yes to his question. She can practically see his mind racing and he takes a breath.
"Hang on, did you think I was asking you to marry me or – or – or asking if you were married?" The deeper tone has left his voice now and he is back to simply her Doctor, flustered and eying her as if his very life depends on her response.
Which it did.
He just didn't know it yet. She smiles, managing to bite back most of her overflowing joy. "Yes." She nods a bit to emphasize and he watches her.
"No but was that yes, or yes?" Bless he is so very easy this young, to tease, to wind up, to tell the truth disguised as a clever lie to.
She leans forward a bit as she answers in a whisper. "Yes."
His head shakes in amusement, the corner of his mouth lifting into what looks like the start of her smile. He smiles a great deal, but this one is hers and hers alone – a smile that seems like it's being drawn out of him against his will. Even when he's older, it still holds that quality. "River." He says her name like it's an endearment and she loves to hear it. One day he would never say it like that at all, but she pushes that thought aside for a moment. His eyes glance down over her, and she almost wants to dance in triumph. The victory of him looking. He steps in closer to her, and oh, he's a brave boy suddenly and she smiles to see it. "Care for a dance?"
Her hearts slow and thud as she meets his gaze. He'd just said that – earlier and hundreds of years in the future, but just now. "There's no music." She points out softly, tucking her diary into her pocket. His hand reaches for hers, his fingers lacing through her own as he steps into her frame, his other hand sliding over the small of her back, rubbing the satin against her bare skin. There is still distance between them though, his body is not flush with hers.
She slips her other hand up over his bicep until it is resting against the curve of his shoulder. "Can't you hear the wind?" He murmurs the question and she shivers, listening to the gentle rustle of the wind through the leaves, the creak of the chains on the old swing set next to them.
"Are we doing interpretive dance then?" She asks with an arched brow, before glancing down between them. He is close, but not close enough, his palm on her back is light, whereas her grip on his shoulder is tight. His other hand holds her own loosely and she is struck by how very accurate it all is. "Perhaps we are, then." She mutters the last to herself but she knows he hears her because she feels the fingers on her back twitch.
She hears him swallow as he sways next to her, nothing but the sound of the wind and their soft breaths and the slide of satin against her skin – which sounds obscenely loud to her own ears. She turns her head to the right and hears him gasp. Turning back with a frown, she sees him staring at her neck intently. His body has gone still and the hand on her back moves, reaching toward her neck and rolling her pearls against her skin where he'd- oh that bastard. "Doctor."
"What is that?" His voice is so very low and he is so very calm and still but she can feel the tension in his frame underneath her hand. She debates what to do. It is insulting to him to play dumb. She can't – can't tell the truth. And if she says 'spoilers' it's as good as telling the truth.
"Teeth marks, obviously." She finally answers him in a calm tone, watching him intently. His eyes don't move and he traces the mark with a finger. Completely unexpectedly, he leans down and places his own teeth there – and she knows what he is doing. Measuring. He doesn't press his teeth into her as he had earlier, but his breath is on her neck and she cannot help the slight whimper that escapes her throat. Her hands grasp the fabric of his coat and her knees get a bit weak.
"I did that." He pulls back, his gaze dark as he licks his lips, finally dragging his eyes from the mark on her neck to her face. "I did that?" His finger is still tracing the skin and she swallows heavily, unable to answer. She shakes her head, not because she is saying no but rather because she can't say anything. What can she say? He leans in once more, and hesitantly presses the softest of kisses there. His lips brush over the skin of her neck, and she shivers in the circle of his arms. Or rather, the circle of her own, because it is she who is holding on to him. "I'm sorry, River."
She smiles, sighing at his apology for his future self, and then she laughs when she thinks of how smug he'd been when he'd done it. "No, you're really not. And neither am I." His eyes meet hers, so dark now that she can barely see the iris. She licks her own lips and he pulls her in closer to him.
"Do you enjoy that sort of thing?" He sounds bewildered by the thought and she laughs once more.
"Yes." It is her word of the night, for him, apparently. She hears his intake of breath and watches as his eyes move down over her figure. His hand at her waist pets her coat gently and he swallows, licking his lips once more.
"Yes." She answers him again with amusement and he looks up at her face, studying her as if he is trying to find the secrets within her simply by power of observation.
"I came here tonight, then?" She doesn't respond and he sighs softly, his hand at her waist gripping tightly suddenly. "To see you? So you – so you wouldn't be alone? River." He sighs, and his hand reaches up, so tentative, his fingers tangling in her hair as he watches her, his expression intense. "Who are you?" The to me is unspoken, but she hears it – plain as day. It's what he always means when he asks her. Who is she, to him?
"Do you really have no idea?" She whispers the words and she hasn't taken her eyes off of him. Her hand pushes through his hair, knocking his hat off in the process, but it simply falls behind him to the grass. Time seems to slow around them, even the wind dies down. Her other hand has somehow wound itself in his scarf and she feels the silk tickle her wrist.
"I do." He confesses the words quietly, and she can feel her hearts beating a rapid tattoo in her chest. Any moment now, she thinks. They'll explode at any moment. "But it scares me." He is walking forward and she stumbles in his wake, until her back hits the door of the TARDIS, who hums reassuringly under her back. "It scares me because I promised myself I'd never – not again. Humans. You're all so fragile." The hand in her hair slides out, tracing along her jaw and throat. "But you know what scares me more?"
His mouth is by her ear now as he leans over her, whispering. "What?" Her throat is dry and she feels set to explode – how terrible it must be for him to think her human. To think that he has but one or two decades with her, and that is all. Such a painfully short period of time for him, she knows. She wants to curse their time lines, and their spoilers. She wants to remove the bio-dampener earrings and slide his hands over his chest until he can feel her two hearts like she feels the thud of his.
But she can't.
Because she is not born yet, not even considered, not – he can know nothing yet. Because he is so very young and so very noble. He'd rewrite every line of her life, their lives – because he does not know better. He does not love her yet. So she cannot whisper secrets into his ear, lift and ease the burden of his hearts with the existence of her own. But she can teach him to love her. "I'm scared that I'm wrong." His words are so breathless, she thinks she'd not hear them if not for the proximity of his mouth to her ear. Her other hand joins the one by his scarf and they tighten their grip as she leans her head against the TARDIS doors, so she can see his face. It is impossibly old and impossibly sad.
"You're scared that you're right, too." She speaks finally and his eyes flare for a moment in understanding. "You're just sacred – that's okay, sweetie."
"Were you?" He finally asks, sucking his lower lip into his mouth as he awaits her answer and she sighs. She doesn't know how to answer that.
"It wasn't the same. But yes, sort of, I suppose."
"What did you do?" He asks even knowing she can never answer him, not properly – not without giving every single thing away far too early in the game.
"I fell anyway." She finally whispers. He stares at her for a moment, before nodding to himself. Then his hands delve back into her hair and he presses his mouth to hers, soft and hurried. She lets him kiss her, staying still under his hands and kissing him back softly – but never stepping beyond what he is already doing. Mouths closed, soft brushes of their lips – she lets him lead.
She held her breath and let him choose his own path, because she was scared if she even let that breath go – it would somehow cause this bubble of happiness around them to burst. She held it until her lungs burned with it.
He pulled back and she exhaled softly, her skin feeling flushed from the effort. "I – I'm sorry – was that okay because I didn't ask and-" His voice is nervous but he is grinning down at her and she smoothes a hand along his chest.
"You don't ever have to. Ask I mean."
"Not ever?" He sounds intrigued and she shakes her head.
"Not ever-" His mouth is on hers again and this time his fingers twist in her hair and his tongue brushes against her lower lip. She opens automatically, welcoming him, humming as his tongue sweeps through her mouth, gently exploratory. She wonders if he can taste himself in there- or even better if he can taste the lingering remnants of her own flavour. His tongue wraps around hers, still and then his hands slide out of her hair to clutch at her shoulders as he moans into her mouth – his hips thrusting forward.
Well then. She supposes he can.
He tears his mouth from hers, breathing heavily. "River." Her hands wander, because she can't help it. He'd not allowed her to touch him or reciprocate earlier, and she is dying for the feeling of him under her hands. She smoothes his lapels and slips her hands under his jacket, sliding over his vest and wrapping around behind to pet at his back softly.
"Hmmm?" She asks in distraction before she realizes that his own hands have somehow managed to slide down, opening her own coat and she draws breath in shock – "Doctor!" Her warning comes too late because his palm is sliding across the smooth skin of her stomach and his expression is almost comical.
"River, where are your clothes?" He looks scandalized and she has to swallow a laugh, dropping her head against the wooden doors behind her with a thud.
"... spoilers?" She finally manages to offer up and he splutters, his mouth opening and shutting and his eyes betraying him to wander down her figure in lightening quick glances. Suddenly he focusses on something, pushing her coat open as he stares at the mark on the inside of her left breast, brilliantly bruised.
He bends down to inspect it closer and her heart rates jack up, his breath on her skin and even though his mouth had just been there, it is somehow much more charged now. Because it is this him – this younger, unsure version. It thrills her. She can feel her insides quiver in anticipation. Sure enough, after a moment, his mouth brushes against the spot. She whimpers, nearly sinking to the ground but his hands are pressing against her ribcage and holding her up. He pauses for a moment, turning his head right and brushing his lips across her nipple. It is fleeting and feather-light, but then her hands wind through his hair, and she is guiding him back, her breathing erratic and her eyes begging. He licks his lips and then his tongues flicks across the dark peak, circling it with his tongue before he draws it into his mouth, suckling. Her moan is deep and throaty and her fingers twist in his hair. "Doctor..." She sighs his name happily, and something must break within him because he is all over her suddenly. Her coat is held open and his hands smooth and traverse across her skin eagerly.
His hand is just skimming up the inside of her thigh when he spots the bruise there too and he growls. "It's like I drew myself a map." He mutters into her skin, and he crouches so he can press a kiss there too. Her palms flatten against the TARDIS doors and when he moves his face between her thighs, licking there experimentally she shakes her head.
"Oh god, please." She all but sobs the words out and he smiles – she can feel it against her skin – it is her smile and something inside of her splinters, because all thoughts of letting him set the pace are gone as she hooks a leg over his shoulder and all but grinds against his face. Surprisingly he doesn't fall down, or flail or lose control of his limbs like she expects him to. Instead her drives his tongue deep within her, his fingers reaching up to pinch at her clit, and he does it over and over again until she orgasms, still so sensitive from her last.
She reaches down and grabs the lapels of his jacket, hauling him up against her with a moan. This time it is her hands fumbling with the fastening of his vest behind him. It loosens and she yanks his shirt from his trousers, not bothering to unbutton anything as her hands slip under, feeling the cool of his skin against her palms and sighing. Since her hands are occupied she leans forward and yanks his bowtie undone with her teeth. He makes a strangled noise in his throat and she presses kisses above his collar, licking and biting at his neck as her hands trace across his chest and back.
It's still not enough though, so they abandon that cause to unbutton the front of his trousers, loosening the front panel enough to slip her hands in and he hisses out a breath as her eager fingers wrap tightly around his length. "Oh god, River." His seems to remember that he has hands suddenly and they wind into her hair as he pulls her mouth to his.
She can taste herself on him- again – and somehow it is all just so erotic because it is him, but it is not him, and she can't quite explain it, but oh, she loves it. She wonders if this is a new kink. Back to back time stream hopping shags. She moans at the thought because if it is, she's going to indulge it.
She kisses him unrestrained for the first time – the first time for him tonight anyway, or ever really, and his hands slide down her body, pausing to pinch her nipples and cup her breasts and just generally touch every bit of her he can. He slides them across her hips and around to squeeze her backside with a moan.
"Doctor, Doctor, please." She breaks away to chant the his name and a plea and her hands slip his erection out from within the confines of his trousers – no pants because he's ever so period appropriate when he dresses up . He moves his head down to neck once more, pressing kisses and nipping and leaving his own trail of marks. He's writing back to himself and he doesn't even know it. The hands gripping her arse lift her suddenly, haul her up against the wood and she wraps her legs around his waist eagerly. She can feel his erection brushing against the crease of her thigh and her hips buck wildly over his.
His grip on her arse tightens and she is higher than him now so he moves his attention to her shoulders and breasts, kissing and suckling and biting and bruising over love bites already there. She gasps. "Not a competition you know." She pants out and he grins, before his hips surge forward and he buries himself within her.
"Hardly can compete if he knows everything I'm doing right now." It's a bizarre thing to discuss, but they are so long used to it by now neither one of them blinks about it. "Do you think River," he pulls out and thrusts back in, one hand sliding under her bottom to better hold her up as he speaks through the kisses her is pressing to her skin, "do you think that he's thinking about this right now? Do you think he touched you and then left, knowing this would happen? Remember how this felt, how you feel all wrapped around me? Do you think he'd be able to help but remember and touch himself? I don't think I could." His hips are snapping into hers and her breathing is growing erratic.
Her fingers twist in his hair and drag his face up to hers. "If you do, you'd better wait until I get there." Her eyes dart to the Manipulator on her wrist and he grins, his tempo increasing as he kisses her fiercely, all tongues and teeth and uneven breathing.
He pulls away for a moment, looking up at her, his eyes dark. "River, I'm-" She nods and he pushes his face into her neck as he pounds into her. His nose nudges aside her pearls and he bites her – in the exact same spot, the exact same location and she comes with a shout, clenching around him as he spills into her, his hands gripping her with bruising tightness.
Their breathing is harsh in the still night and she slides down the doors until her feet touch the ground. He slips from within her, his hands releasing her and their breathing uneven. She kisses him softly once, as his hands stroke her skin lazily. "So tell me," she murmurs between kisses, "What part did you read?"
"What?" He exclaims, looking down at her. "I didn't – I didn't peek, I told you-"
"You are sweet you daft man, you can't lie to me." She points out with a smile. She pauses, hearing the murmur of voices along the path and she sighs softly. "Well, I'll get it out of you eventually."
"Hmm." He kisses her softly. "Tell me I said hello, would you?" His thumb brushes across the lovebite he's made bigger on the side of her breast and she rolls her eyes.
"I believe you already have." She grins, before waving her fingers. "That's Amy and Rory by the way, love, might want to tuck yourself in." He looks over his shoulder in a panic and when he looks back she blows him a kiss and presses the button on her manipulator.
She lands in the TARDIS, their bedroom, to be precise and she's no idea how he managed to calculate that, because it shouldn't be possible. She drops her coat as soon as she can and his arms wrap around her from behind, his skin gloriously pressed against hers and his erection nudging her insistently in the back.
"I read two passages, one from younger you, and discussing a certain encounter on Hanfalvar in the woods-" She remembered the time in question well, he'd brought her to orgasm three times, while denying his own and disappearing afterward.
"Naughty boy." She murmurs, her hand reaching behind her to grasp at him, thick and stiff in her palm.
"- and then I flipped ahead, to Crysilusis IV, and the water pools," He continued, pressing soft kisses against her skin, his tongue licking along places his younger self had just sucked and bitten. "And you wrote about how I took you with almost no foreplay at all, but you wrote about a bite, that I suppose years apart would make no sense, but I'd just read it."
The words are whispered into her skin and she shivers at the thought, turning in his arms and pressing kisses over his hearts. "Oh." She breathes the word out as realization kicks in. He nods, pressing her back until she hits the bed with soft thump. He crawls over her, scattering kisses across each new mark, and brushing his fingers against her still overly sensitive skin, damp with her wetness, and his own. His fingers dip within her briefly and he moans, positioning himself so his erection was nudging at her insistently. Her legs part and wrap around his waist in welcome. She thinks it may kill her – too much too soon, but oh god, she can still feel the time of his younger self clinging to her, and she knows he can too. She pulls her earrings out, and they both inhale deeply. He moves forward, sliding within her and she moans, still tender and aching from moments ago. He looks down at her with that same smug grin, because he knows.
"Now you know. It is a kink. We do do it often, and I get my own turn sometimes too."