YOU AND ME AND THE TARDIS MAKES THREE
“Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it.” ~Norman Maclean
Sexy told the Roman about the water. She needed it for her mad, lovely thief. She has seen so much of the universe with him, but now House has reminded her that her sisters are all dead, and again she knows what it’s like to be all alone…to be the only one. She gets so lonely when the little birds leave the nest and make him the sad man in the blue box. He gets lonely. He needs someone to stay. Someone like him. He needs to know that the sweetest times, and some lovely biting too, can be found while the blue box is spinning…with the water from the forest.
Their adventure ended with explosions again. Somehow they always did lately, but this time, it was River’s turn to be the one picking bits of glass and debris from her hair and the cuts along her back. It was nothing major. She’d seen worse…probably would see worse in the future.
She is pacing beneath the Tardis’ console in just her black, lacy knickers and a slinky robe she borrowed from Amy, having a hard time trying to use the sonic’s medical setting on her wounds when the Doctor comes huffing and stomping down the steps, rambling something about Rory.
“I swear! When will he ever learn that when I say ‘Don’t touch anything,’ I mean not with your hands or your feet or your impossibly large nose!”
He gets about five paces before he notices anything, and then stops in his tracks.
“River!” he exclaims, pointing at her then looking back as if any second now someone was going to walk in and catch him in the act of doing something he shouldn’t be doing.
“Yes?” she replies, looking completely unfazed and utterly amused by the befuddled look on his face.
“Where are your clothes?”
She points in the direction of a freshly-laundered black dress and a frilly brassiere hanging from a make-shift clothesline tied to the various parts of the Tardis console’s underside.
“Wha-?” He walks over to it with hands on his hips, looking properly vexed and prepared to throw a tantrum. He hates it when she messes with his things. “That doesn’t go...and what’s thi-? And why are you doing that here?”
“Sorry, Sweetie. But my room seems to have been deleted by some being called House, and I didn’t want to disturb Amy and Rory."
"There are other rooms, you know."
"Of course there are. But what would be the fun in that?" She winks at him and holds out the sonic. "Do you mind? I am rather flexible, but there are still some things that even I can’t do.”
He stands there, mouth agape for a few moments, until finally it dawns on him that she’s injured.
“Oh. Yes, well, um...Don't you think that maybe Rory should be doing this? He is, after all, a nurse.”
“Yes, but you’re the Doctor.”
She had him there. And her wounds were nothing that was beyond his capacity to handle. It was just the sight of her…standing there like that, smiling, so much skin, beautiful and poised like…something. He didn’t know what. He was suddenly feeling a little dizzy and there was a lump in his throat. This was the most he’s ever seen of her, of any female since goodness knows when, and for the first time he realizes that she’s not just a clever, unnervingly brilliant and somewhat mad companion with the cool name and a penchant for guns. She’s a woman. An incredibly stunning woman. Standing mostly naked in his Tardis with her father down the hall. A father who owned a sword and had recently become absolutely unafraid to use it.
He hesitates, but then takes the sonic and very gingerly, moves behind her. She grins impishly and he slides the robe down further, exposing more skin. His thumb traces the outline of her shoulder and he can’t be sure, but he thinks for a moment that he might have gasped. Her flesh was like honey dripping from the comb, a magnificent, pale bronze as far as he could see, as if she spent a great deal of time naked in the sun. Naked. Sun touching her all over. Focus. He needs to focus. Deep breath. Focus. Yes, scratches. Must heal the…sonic on the skin. Such lovely, lovely skin.
“Oh, my poor Thief!” the Tardis muses, “He’s nervous! The pretty water makes him think naughty thoughts.”
“Now look what you’ve gone and done to yourself,” He mutters bashfully, trying to be gentle as he increases the power of the sonic for a particularly nasty gash.
She hisses and squirms a bit, but never stops smiling, like she’s thoroughly enjoying the position she’s put him in.
“Really, River, you must resist these urges you keep having to hurl yourself from buildings and sky liners and other tall, high, dangling things. One of these days I may not be there catch you.”
“You always catch me.”
“Oh? And what if one day I don’t? Or what would have happened if I was late?”
“But what if I was?”
“Impossible. Time is not the boss of you. Though I appreciate your concern.”
“Concern?” he scoffs, “I’d say it was more about preservation for the sake of scientific curiosity. After all, there’s no one else in the whole of the universe like you, is there River Song?”
“I suppose you’re right. And you do love a mystery, don’t you?”
“Well, you’re part Time Lord. There are so many things we’ve yet to discover about you.”
River raises an eyebrow and leans forward against one of the pilings of the console, her body curving at impossible angles, her tone sultry and teasing.
“Are you saying you’d like to examine me closer, Doctor?” she purrs, slipping even more of her robe off so that he can tend to the trail of tiny cuts going all the way down her back.
“Ooh, well done, girl,” the Tardis murmurs wordlessly, wishing she had hands again to make the joyful sound.
The Doctor clears his throat nervously and continues tending to River’s injuries, distracted by the line of her spine diverting his eyes lower and lower to delicate edges of her black lace knickers. “Examine? Yes, right…well, um…I suppose it would be a good idea.”
“Be patient, my love,” River replies wistfully, “The time will come when you will. You will find out everything. And then you will know.”
His fingers stop moving. He knows what the answer will be, but he has to ask. “Know what?”
“Why I live for the days when I can see you.”
Her words sting in him as he thinks back to the way he left her when she kissed him at the Stormcage. He knows he hurt her, and although he can’t see her face, his thoughts reach out to hers, finding something unguarded and rare swirling around in her head…vulnerability. He wants to caress it, comfort it, make it disappear, but he’s frozen in place. She leans her back into him and tilts her head so that her cheek is resting against his chin, then reaches to pull his free hand around her waist. Her skin is electric against the palm of his hand, and before he even knows it he’s sliding it up her abdomen and cupping her bare breast, catching her nipples between his fingers, aching to take the warm flesh into his mouth until he makes her wail with delight.
“Oh…” he shudders, pulling his hands away so quickly that he drops the sonic to the floor.
The Tardis hums and whirls in excitement. “Don’t stop now, my beautiful idiot, you’re so very close…”
River turns in his arms to face him and slides her fingers under his braces, holding them firmly enough to keep him from moving away, then lightly kisses the cleft in his chin and nuzzles her nose against his. As if acting by sheer instinct all on their own, his hands brace themselves firmly on her hips. He shouldn’t let them, but they refuse his pleas for restraint and he wonders if he can muster up some swagger to keep her from knowing that she’s got him completely undone.
“Mrs. Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?” His speaks slowly; his eyes squinted as he chides himself for not being able to think of something more clever. Deep in inside, things start coming to life that he thought were once dead, and suddenly a distinct and familiar pressure starts building in his pants.
“I don’t know. Do you want me to seduce you?”
“River…” He can barely speak as she slips off his bow tie and starts undoing his buttons, kissing and lightly nipping at each newly-exposed bit of flesh as she goes along. He can feel the tip of her tongue tracing little circles along his collar bone and it makes him tense up.
“You don’t like it?”
“No,” he utters nervously. “I mean, not ‘no’ that I don’t like it, because…it’s nice…and you…you’re very nice.” He looks down at how the open robe exposes the full curve of her both of her breast now. “Ooh, very nice indeed. I just don’t think your father would like it if he found me looking at you…well, with me looking at you, standing here looking like this. Or…” He swallows hard and moans softly, his breath quickening as she strums her hand up and down his crotch before starting to undo the buttons on his trousers, which were already bulging with anticipation. “The touching. Definitely he won’t like the touching.”
“Ah, but you seem to forget that I’m not a little girl anymore, sweetie. And it’s been a very long time since you’ve been a child. Time Lord or not, you are a man. You’ve just forgotten how to allow yourself to enjoy being one. I can remind you. We can remember together.”
He wants to tell her no. He wants to stop and run away, but not more than he wants her. He wants her more than anything. He misses the feel of a heart beating against his chest that isn’t his, naked flesh warm in his arms, abandoning himself in the very being of another person. He kisses her hungrily, even frantically, grabbing onto her hair and skin and every part of her that he can reach. There’s no going back now. He’s a willing prisoner in her arms.
“Oh yes,” he pants, his eyes closed.
“Yes?” River asks, her hand unzipping his trousers.
He ached with urgency, and it didn’t take long before what little River had on was stripped off and tossed to the floor, followed by his shoes and socks. It gave him an immense sense of accomplishment that he was able to do it while at the same time getting up the steps and into the hall with his trousers dropped around his knees, what with his long limbs getting so delightfully tangled with River’s. They crash into things, knock things over and make a lot of noise, but they don’t stop. In minutes, they make it as far as the door to his room, where he braces her hard against it as she yanks off his britches and trousers in one swift motion and then straightens up, throwing her arms around his neck for balance as she wraps her legs around him. He digs his fingers into her firm, glorious thighs, pressing into her until he can no longer tell where he ends and she begins, his cock aching to be buried inside of her.
“Oh yes, they are coming,” the Tardis flashes in shades of red and purple before turning her attention to the Doctor’s room. “But this isn’t good! The silly little climbing thing will simply not do tonight.” She rumbles and whirls a bit and with a flash, she’s done.
The door to the bedroom room slams open from the force of their bodies pounding against it, and they both stumble in, completely naked. But then the Doctor stops suddenly and looks around, pokes his head out of the room and counts the doors lining the hallway.
“What is it?”
“Right room. Wrong…thing. Not my bed…”
“Ah, good ol’ Tardis,” River laughs, dragging him over to the large, four-post antique that was occupying the space where his bunk bed once was. “Looks like someone approves of our new sleeping arrangement.” She pushes him down onto the mattress and straddles him, arching her back as her undulating hips stroke against him with hot, wet eagerness until he enters her.
“Oh, you naughty, wicked, incredible girl!”
Subconsciously, the words were directed to both River and the Tardis…his women…his yesterday, his today and his tomorrow; both of them conspiring to make him love them. And he did love them. More than he could ever admit, more than he ever loved anyone before, and much more than he ever would in the future.
He revels in the throes of passion, touching her as if he’s just discovered the feeling of flesh. He’s beneath her, on top of her, behind her, inside of her, all over her with his hands and his mouth, longing and insatiable. The taste of her is ambrosia. The smell of her is the scent of woods and forests and exotic things with no names. His River…her waters cutting a path through the cold, dark canyons of his heart, leaving an indelible mark. He whispers word of passion, love and lust to her in a thousand extinct languages that had no human translation as she rolls against him faster and faster, contracting around him deep inside of her. Waves of pleasure and cries of ecstasy wrap them in warmth over and over. He pours into her like the waves…endless and powerful. They flow together, they tremble together, and they come together.
“Oh, such lovely biting!” The Tardis hums in delight, joining her voice with the chorus of moans, sighs and panted breaths until the whole of her shudders and glows. Then, when passion and desire is spent, all is quiet and they hover peacefully outside of time and space with nowhere to go, all eternity to get there, and no inclination to rush.
In the first bedroom on the right, only half-covered and tangled in sheets, lounging cross-ways on the now lop-sided bed, the Doctor is spooned up against River, who was lying on her stomach, her face resting on her folded arms. The cuts on her back that were once deep red and purple, are now faded pink, and he feels compelled to trace them gently, kissing each one with the faintest brush of his lips. The corners of her mouth curl up in a satisfied smile and he can feel her quivering under him.
“Stop that.” She whispers groggily, her eyes still closed.
“Sorry,” he answers, moving his hands to his sides. “I couldn’t resist…”
“No, not that.”
“Thinking. You’re thinking too much.”
How did she know that? It was a stupid question, he tells himself. Of course she knows. But how can he tell her what he’s thinking? How can he tell her that he wanted her to stop because he knew that once he kissed her, he could never turn back; that he would love her forever? And how can he tell her that he didn’t want to love her because he knows that exactly how and when he will lose her, and that he thinks that it’s going to kill him? Maybe she already knows. Maybe that was why she made it a point to live every second of her life with such reckless abandon. He ached for how hard it must be for her…and mourned for a loss that hasn’t even happened yet. But time can be rewritten. He will rewrite it for her.
“I was just thinking about you. And this…” he strums his fingers along her spine. “And I was wondering…if we shouldn’t have some sort of…rules. About you and I…being naked in the Tardis…together…like this.”
“Still worried about what Rory and Amy might think, are you?”
“Well, yes. And no. We’re all adults here and I’ve never bothered them about it when they...you know. But this is you, and you’re their…and I guess what I really mean is that we should be careful, don’t you think? After all, look what happened with Rory and Amy and the vortex. They were here when they made you, and I know it turned out okay because you’re…marvelous. Really, really, marvelous. But I don’t know if the Tardis is a good place for…you know…the whole changing nappies and midnight feedings thing.”
She stares at him for a moment with a strange, knowing expression, then sighs and stretches, turning into his arms. “I wouldn’t worry about it, my love. The whole changing nappies thing never manages to catch on with you.”
He furrows his brows at her comment and ponders the implications. His future is her past, so…could they have already…? He hadn’t allowed himself to entertain the possibility for many ages, and a torrent of thoughts all flood over him at the same time…frightening, joyful, melancholy, hopeful and exciting thoughts. They could…she was part Time Lord, so maybe this time would be different. But there could be so many...complications.
The Tardis buzzes with anticipation.
“Oh, yes, yes my thief! She could sleep in the cot and I will write her name alongside yours and throw open my doors when she snaps her little fingers!”
“River, do you and I…?”
“Shhhhh,” she whispers, putting her fingers on his lips. “Spoilers.”
“Ooh…,” he thinks for a moment, studies the serenity in her eyes, and realizes that despite the potential complications, there are also extraordinary possibilities…possibilities that make him blush. “Oh!”
River giggles. No, it wasn’t a giggle. That was something silly school girls did. This was River Song, and even when she was a school girl, if indeed she actually ever was a schoolgirl, he was pretty sure that she didn’t giggle. The sound of her voice was music and laughter and singing and light and every audible display of sensual of pleasure in the universe swirling around in her and bursting forth as something wondrous and new.
She drags her body on top of his and the sensation of her breast pressing against his heart curls his toes.
“So, my love,” she asks evasively, “what would they call me on Gallifrey? A Time Lord or a Time Lady?”
“Neither,” he replies with mock smugness. “To be a Time Lord you’d have to spend the first eight years of your life studying, then pass a test and look into the untempered schism, but it’s not there anymore so I guess you missed your chance. Although I could probably teach you, but then again, I think I already have. Oh, and THEN if the raw power of time and space and eternity doesn’t drive you mad, you’d have to-”
“Oh shut up!” She grabs his face and silences him with a kiss.
He buries his hands in her hair, twirling the wild, golden ringlets between his fingers. He could get used to this. This, and every other beautiful, extraordinary, miraculous thing that he could do with her. But then he remembers the Library again, and hears that urgent whisper from before echoing over and over. “Time can be rewritten. Time can be rewritten. Time can be rewritten.” It had to be. And at that very moment, he promised himself that he would find a way to save River Song if it took him the rest of his life.
The Tardis whirled and pulsed in agreement. “I will help you, my mad, lovely Thief. We will save my pretty, pretty water. You will run and you will dance and you will live…and you will never be alone again.”