when passion’s a prison, you can’t break free
It’s a special kind of torture, he thinks.
Strapped into a straight jacket, chains around him. They’re not very tight but they seem to grow heavier as time passes slowly. He thinks he can feel the weight and breadth of each and every link. He watches walls rise around him, watches soldiers come and go in the vast warehouse.
At the moment three walls are built fully, and they are about to start construction on the fourth wall in the morning. Canton has done his job well, reported the deaths of all his friends, and the Doctor snorts under his breath, remembering the genuine tension in his voice as he’d reported River’s death. Leaping off the fiftieth floor – well she did have a certain flair for the dramatic didn’t she?
He shifts uncomfortably, wondering how that all works exactly. How long would Rory and Amy have to ‘play dead’? He knew the bullet Canton had shot them with had included a small dart filled with a drug to make them appear dead, he only hoped it would wear off in time for them to be brought here, according to the plan.
Sitting and waiting had never ever been his strong point in any tactical battle. He hates it. Hates the endless hours he is given to think, hates the annoyingly constant circle the soldier marches in during the night shift. Time could be set by his stoic footfalls.
The Doctor tilts his head enquiringly, listening to the silence. Footfalls – something about footfalls and he was – “Hello, sweetie,” River slides around the corner of his prison, a smile on her face and a purr in her voice that makes him shift in his chair. She is still wearing the jeans he’d last seen her in, but they are caked with mud around the hems, she has long since lost the jacket and at some point seems to have exchanged her blouse for a tank top that hugs her body. Her gun belt is still slung over her hips and he licks his lips, pressing his thighs together in an effort not to react.
“River? What are you doing here? You’ll ruin everything-”
“Oh please, sweetie.” She strolls into his cell with a roll of her eyes, scanning the wall behind him carefully. “The guard isn’t due for relief for another three hours, and he’ll be good and asleep until then.” She winks and blows a kiss in his direction. “Which reminds me...” she pulls a handkerchief out of her pocket, wiping her mouth and tucking it back into her jeans. “So, miss me?”
“But how are you here? Canton told me – you’d jumped off the building. What did you just use your manipulator halfway down?” He scoffs and she laughs lightly, arching her eyebrows teasingly.
“You’re so terrible with spoilers, my love. I suppose I will – but I haven’t yet. I like it though, definitely beats waiting around in one of those body bags. Saves me time too – you’ll just catch me.” She grins and he curses inwardly.
“How long has it been for you? Since we left the warehouse?” His voice is urgent and she moves closer, her hand lifting and her fingers trailing through the beard there. Her nails against the skin of his jaw and neck feel so good he can’t even bite back the moan that rises at her touch.
“It’s June for me. When did I jump to? Hmmm...” Her fingers scratch at him lightly and she studies his face intently. “Judging by the length, I’d say just about three months? July then. I’m a bit off,” she frowns down at her manipulator, still strapped to her wrist and smoking lightly. “Ah well, I’ll fix it after.”
“After what?” He frowns in confusion and she laughs.
“I am in desperate need of a change of clothing, honey. And a bath. Maybe the hot tub.”
“River!” He scolds her, horrified by her teasing expression, “we are in the middle of a war, and you’re popping out for a soak?” Her lips quirk for a moment, a twitch upwards as her eyes sparkle and she looks down at him.
“Yes, dear. I also happen to be travelling in time at the moment, so no time will be wasted, I promise. Now be a good boy or I won’t let you out to have a little stretch yourself,” she grins as she pats his cheek and he splutters with indignation. Of course, he really could use the break. Get out of these chains, out of this chair, into his lovely ship, humming invisibly at his back. It’s been so long. He thinks perhaps River arriving when she has might be a bit of a god send. “Oh sweetie, god has nothing to do with it.” She purrs and he shivers, realizing he’d said that last bit out loud. He clears his throat nervously and looks up at her.
“Right then. I’d be very grateful if you’d let me out River.” Her smile stretches wide across her face, her cheeks rounding as her nose crinkles in delight.
“Maybe you should show me how grateful first, sweetie.” Before he can even blink she’s moved over him, swung a leg across his lap and is seated on top of him as if this is where she always sits – and he swallows, wondering if it was where she always sits. He lets out a tiny squeak before shaking his head and clearing his throat again. She watches with amusement, shifting on his lap and sliding across him in all sorts of delicious ways.
“River!” Her name is high-pitched and she laughs, low in her throat. The sound sends shivers down his spine. But not in a scary way. In a the very opposite of a scary sort of way. He swallows suddenly as he feels his body react to her and she laughs again, the sound sliding along his skin and wrapping around him more surely than the chains as she notices. “River,” he whinges and she simply smiles, leaning forward until the chains bite into her chest too. Her rather lovely, remarkable chest. Which is really quite lovely, all pushed up and he can see the rise and fall of her lovely chest – no, no, too much of the word lovely. He needs another synonym. Sexy? No. But yes. Sumptuous? Oh most definitely, but it doesn’t fit quite right.
“Voluptuous, Doctor.” She speaks helpfully and he glances up at her, startled.
“Yes! Perfect. Did I say all that out loud?” He wonders to himself more than her, but she loops her arms around his shoulders and her fingers play with the ends of his hair.
“Say all what out loud?” She asks and he draws a startled breath in, the chains constricting his rib cage as he looks up at her in awe.
“Can you read minds, River?”
“I don’t know, Doctor, just how kinky are your thoughts right at this very moment?” She slides her hips up into his and he moans, his hands twitching in his sleeves. He just wants to touch her. Which is new. Quite new – well not that new, he always wants to touch her. A hand in her magnificent hair or a stroke of her cheek to feel how soft her skin really is. Hands on her waist – it can’t possibly be as tiny as he seems to think it is – measurements are needed for reference and why use tape when he has hands? He always wants to touch her, but usually the urge isn’t quite so.... urgey. His hands itch, his fingers flexing and straining as if he can reach her by sheer will alone.
“I’m not kinky,” he protests mildly and she snorts before giggling.
“Oh sweetie, try again. I bet you’re just dying to touch me right now. Simply because you can’t. I bet you’ve hated these chains every minute of your stay here, but suddenly, oh – they’re not so bad are they?” Her voice is a breathy whisper and he swallows because she’s right. He does want to touch her, so, so desperately that his thighs are straining, his hips lifting into hers, desperate for any sort of contact. His chest is pulling against the chains and they don’t feel as heavy anymore. There is some delicious thrill in the struggle against them now, with her just on the other side of them. “Hmmm. Feel that, Doctor?” Her hips grind down against his again and he chokes at the rush of sensation – he can do nothing to stop her. Not that he would if he could, but he’d certainly do something to speed her up.
“River, I can’t-” His voice is a choked whisper and she shushes him gently, her hands combing through his hair, nails lightly scratching before she grips the ends of his hair and pulls, forcing his head back until he meets her eyes.
“Would you like to show me how grateful you’d be sweetie?” Her voice is strong, but not loud at all and the tone of it makes everything within him tighten. He wonders if this is something they do often, is she always in charge? He can picture it really, restrained as she kneels over him, all skin and warmth and wetness pressed against his- he groans at the images flying through his mind, and now he wishes she were a mind reader, because surely that would be a form of retaliation. Just as quickly though, he discards the notion. Because the thought of tying River down, at his mercy, is far too exciting to pass up. No, he thinks, no – like everything else in their odd relationship, he thinks they must take turns. “Doctor.” Her voice is sharper now and his eyes snap to hers, his entire body straining toward her. He feels the tension within him mounting, and he knows only one path leads to release.
He also knows that if he tells her he’s not ready for this, she will stop. Somehow he knows that as surely as he knows his own name. She would leave him be, apologise, and release him. This was her, giving him the choice.
In all honesty he’s not sure he is ready for this. But he knows if he backs down, walks away, this tension will live within him, claw at his skin and bones with no outlet good enough, nothing that would sooth it. But for this. But for her. “Yes, please.” He finally whispers softly, but she smiles at the sound of it. “Let me show you.”
She hums out a pleased little sigh and her grip on his hair tightens as she looks at him intently. She leans in until her nose brushes against his and it is just one more point of contact that sends thrills shooting through him. “Oh, my Doctor,” she breathes the words out, her lips millimeters from his own and he whinges in frustration, licking his own lips. “Show me.” She instructs softly and he lifts his head until his mouth meets hers. Her lips are soft and pliant against his own. Her fingers are loose in his hair and his hips press up even as his wrists strain behind him, pulling in opposite directions and he fears he may tear apart underneath her. He kisses her softly, his mouth hesitant. Every body is different of course, and outside of that one awkward experience with Amy, he’s not really taken the opportunity to find out much about this one. Not in that way. And she seems to know this – seems to realise it because she isn’t moving.
Oh she’s kissing him back, but only just as much as he is kissing her. Despite his chains she is giving him the control and it thrills him and terrifies him all at once. His tongue moves forward, brushing against her lower lip and her mouth opens over his so quickly, he thinks she must have been waiting for it. He licks at the inside of her lip experimentally, tasting her carefully. She tastes like vanilla and mint and his tongue slides further into her mouth, exploring. His heart rates double when it brushes against her tongue for the first time. He moans into her mouth, wishing he had hands free to grip her, pull her against him and slide palms under this tank top to feel her skin.
Her hands push through his hair as she kisses him back, her tongue stroking along his as she hums, and he can feel the curve of her smile against the corners of his mouth. He pulls back, still pressing several small soft kisses to her mouth – he has decided he loves her lower lip, it just begs to be kissed, licked, sucked on – smiling in between each one. “That’s a very good start, dear.” Her voice is smug and he pulls at the sleeves of his straitjacket, straining to be nearer. “But not enough to get you out.” She laughs at his glare and he sits up straighter. If there’s two things he can never resist it’s a mystery or a challenge, and she is intoxicatingly both.
“Come here,” he instructs and she grins, pressing in closer. He presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth, before sliding his mouth down to her jaw, kissing up along it until he can lick below her ear and she lets out a soft giggle followed by a breathy moan. He kisses down her throat, pausing to lick at the skin there repeatedly – she is so soft there, and she smells amazing, like honey and musk and River. He cannot be blamed for stopping there a little longer, and she writhes against him, high pitched breathy giggles escaping her every now and again.
He finally reaches her clavicle, his tongue running along the delicate bone until he reaches her shoulder, biting there lightly as she gasps. “Doctor!”
“Top off,” he pulls back long enough to insist and she complies readily, her hands reaching between them to grab the hem of her tank top and yank it over her head quickly. She is braless underneath and he stops for a moment to gape openly. Breasts are glorious. Particularly hers. Especially hers – in fact he is fairly certain he’s not met a woman with more spectacular breasts. They are perfect – not overly large, but full and tipped with pert nipples and he is absolutely shocked to find his mouth watering at the sight of her. “Oh my,” he breathes out and she grins.
“And now what shall you do with me, Doctor?” She taunts him breathlessly and he growls in frustration, he wants to feel her. Palm their loveliness and weigh one in each hand. He wants to twist those pert nipples until she cries out, but all he has is his mouth. Which is equally enticing, he cannot wait to kiss her there, wrap his tongue around the peak and make her cry out one way or the other.
“Stand up and lean forward,” his voice is hoarse and she laughs softly, complying and planting her feet on either side of his thighs, standing up and moving as close as she can. It is certainly close enough and the first thing he does is lick along the underside of her breast, burrowing his tongue underneath until he can taste the sweat there and she laughs, pulling back. “River,” his voice is a warning tone and she giggles, threading fingers through his hair and moving forward again.
“The beard tickles sweetie,” she points out with a grin and he growls against her skin, biting playfully at the side of her left breast as she gasps.
“It won’t tickle everywhere,” he promises her in a low hot voice that he barely recognizes. She moans at that and while she’s distracted he cranes his neck forward, sucking the peak into his mouth and swirling his tongue over it. She draws in a great gasp of air, her moan ending on a decidedly high pitched note as he smirks against the soft flesh of her breast. It is better than he imagined. He loves the change of texture from the smooth silky skin of her breast to the pebbled nipple as his tongue sweeps across it. He is good with his mouth, he knows. He can talk and talk and talk, but linguistics are far from his only oral skill. He licks and sucks at her as she gasps and cries out above him, her hands tightening in his hair and her hips thrusting into the chains that wrap around his chest. Something about that drives him absolutely mad – the thought of these chains that he has to sit in for possibly days to come, pressing against her, exciting her. He loves the idea of it, the thought of them smelling of her.
He has moved over to the other breast by this point, nibbling and sucking and licking at her, scraping the roughness of his beard over the nipple as she hums in delight over him. When he leans his head back to look up at her, her skin is flush with enjoyment and her eyes are dark with lust. Her lips are reddened from her biting at them and she looks so erotic above him he thinks if he could see only one image for the rest of his life – it could be this one and he would die happily. “Kiss me,” his voice is a whisper but she leans down and complies, licking at the inside of his mouth as they both moan. He is the one chained up, but she is complying with his every instruction and perversely he feels like the one in control. This is all for her, not him, and he loves that. She kisses him desperately – any holding back she’d been doing earlier at his behest has disappeared now and he sucks at her tongue eagerly as she pulls at his hair. When they break apart they are both panting and he is out of breath. “Jeans. Off, now.”
“So demanding, my love,” she laughs as she pulls away, backing up and toeing off her boots as he watches intently. She slides the buckle of her gun belt out slowly, pulling the item away from her waist and placing it gently on the floor beside her. He licks his lips, his mouth suddenly dry as she unbuttons the fly on her jeans and lowers the zip. Every bit of sensation in his body seems to have centered where his erection is straining and as she wriggles out of the tight pants slowly he thinks he forgets how to breathe for a moment. She is – she is – there are no words for her. He thinks he would have to invent a few to accurately describe the precise curve of her waist to hip, or the flare of her hips to thighs. She is in plain cotton knickers, nothing thrilling or all that exciting but they hug her body, and the fullness at the apex of her thighs draws his eye. She is perfect, he thinks. In this moment, at this second, he cannot think of one single thing he would change about her. He must have been staring for a while because her hands twitch at her sides and when he finally manages to drag his eyes back up to her face, she is biting her lip anxiously.
“You are... I can’t – River.” He breathes her name out and she swallows, a slow smile blooming across her face and he thinks that she’s never looked more absolutely beautiful. “Come here,” he instructs softly once more and she resumes the position she’d been in before, but this time he is pressing tiny kisses all over every inch of skin he can reach. If his mouth is all he has, he wants to know that he’s covered every inch of her with it. “I don’t suppose you’ll undo the chains and just leave the jacket?” He murmurs the question into the soft skin of her belly and she giggles.
“I know who taught Houdini that trick, Doctor. Absolutely not.” She scolds him softly and he laughs into the curve of her waist as he shrugs.
“Worth a shot. You’re going to have to help me then, River. The chair needs to be laid down.” Her breath catches at the implication and he takes the opportunity to latch onto her breast once more, drawing the peak in and rolling his tongue over it before biting down. Her hips surge forward, pressing against his chains and she moans raggedly at that, gripping his shoulders as she rubs herself against him. He can smell her arousal and he is so hard he thinks he is likely going to simply orgasm in his trousers, just from this – her semi nude above him, the shape of her breast in his mouth and her panting cries as she thrusts herself against his chest eagerly. “Please, River, please please. Let me, please.” He is begging and she steps away from him, moving behind him to lean against his back. Her arse has to be pressed against the TARDIS, he knows, and she leans forward her breasts pressing against his shoulders as she whispers in his ear.
“Are you sure?” Her lips brush the shell of his ear and he nods even as she licks there, drawing the lobe into her mouth with her teeth and sucking on it gently. His erection twitches and he strains, but he has nowhere to go to, and the only place he wants to go is pressed against him regardless.
“Yes, yes, come on,” he pleads in a low voice and she shoves the chair forward a good foot before she tilts him back carefully until the back of the chair is fully on the ground. His arms are pinned under his back now, and the chains bite into them but he doesn’t care. “Knickers off, Dr. Song.” She looks down at him from above, before she turns to face the invisible TARDIS and hooks her fingers into the waistband of her knickers, dragging them down and kicking them off.
She’s wet already, he can tell and he grins smugly as she rolls her eyes. “Don’t get cocky, sweetie,” he huffs at that and she plants a foot on either side of his shoulders as he licks his lips in anticipation. He wants to taste her so badly. “Because I could just leave you here and go have my – what did you call it? Oh yes,” she grins above him, “my soak.”
The word is slow and drawn out as she speaks it, leaning forward and he is a kinky bastard and he knows she knows this because she is watching him, waiting for him to voice his own thoughts right now. “Touch yourself. Let me watch.” He isn’t asking and her eyes light up as she hums in approval.
“And you call me a bad girl,” she teases him as she plants her feet further apart and her hands drift across her own skin, sliding over her breasts and down over the curve of her own belly. He watches them intently.
“We’re for each other then, yeah? A matching pair,” he admits softly and she smiles beautifully down at him, even though her hands are reaching for her own slick folds.
“That we most certainly are, sweetie.” She sighs in delight as her fingers slide over her own clit, pushing down to tease herself gently. She is an expert at her own body, clearly, but he watches her oh so carefully because he needs to know what she likes. He is the Doctor – and him not knowing what he’s about going in to any situation is unfathomable. This is an excellent way to learn – practical demonstration.
The first thing he realises is that she is a multi-tasker. One hand pinches and twists at her clit – and she is rough with it – each twist of her fingers sends a thrill shooting through him and he squirms below her, desperate for any friction against him – even the rub and slide of his own trousers. Her other hand slides two fingers down along her folds, rubbing and pressing inside with just the slightest touch as she moans above him. “Gorgeous,” he breathes out as he watches and her eyes slide shut as she begins to focus and center herself above him. She hums in approval when he speaks, and he wonders if that’s something she likes – him talking. It would make sense – he isn’t well known for knowing when to shut up, after all. “So beautiful River, full and swollen, so wet. I bet you taste marvelous. I bet you taste sweeter than anything I’ve ever had before. My mouth is going to be everywhere your hands are River. Everywhere. Show me. Teach me how to touch you.”
She moans louder, two fingers slipping inside and he watches them curl within her, her other hand still twisting and pulling at her clit viciously as she cries out. “Doctor.”
“That will be my mouth River, right there – sucking hard, hmm? You like it a bit rough don’t you, my bad bad girl?”
“Oh god yes,” She moans the words above him, her chest heaving as she drives herself higher and higher, her fingers moving faster and faster above him.
“Did you do this, River? All those nights since we separated? Did you lie back in motel rooms, touch yourself and think of me? My hands touching you like that, my mouth sucking at you, me lapping it all up, every bit of it? My face between your thighs?” She is writhing above him, and he can see her orgasm building. Her flesh is swelling, flushed and glistening as her hands work frantically at herself, sliding in and out, twisting and dipping and pulling and tugging – it is like watching an elaborate dance above him. He wants the crescendo. “Show me, River. Show me.”
The two fingers inside of her pull out and she is twisting her clit viciously with one hand while the other rubs across it frantically. Everything stills for a moment as she cries out, one hand lifting to brace herself against the invisible shell of his ship while the other continues rubbing and twisting as she orgasms above him. Hot liquid drips through her fingers, slides down her thighs and rains on his face and he can do nothing but lick at his own lips, and moan at the taste of her there. She is panting above him and he is sure he will break the chains with the force of his entire body, drawn up toward her. “Come here, come here, come here,” he chants and she sinks above him, until she is sitting on his chest, her other hand still pressed against the TARDIS. He inhales deeply, the scent of her filling his nostrils as he brushes his nose against her soaking wet core. She whimpers, still overly sensitive and he grins wickedly below her. “Closer,” he demands and she obliges, inching further up his chest until he can lick along her wet folds, her taste bursting across his tongue, bright and sharp. “Mmmm,” he mumbles incoherently as she moans above him, both hands on his ship now as she lifts herself above his face.
“Oh sweetie,” her voice is deep and growling above him as he licks gently at her, cleaning up every bit of the wetness she’d left behind. Her hips begin to twitch over him and he is delighted by her recovery time as she grinds herself against his face. He can barely breathe – but then again he has a rather impressive lung capacity. He smirks right before he drives his tongue inside of her, swirling it within her and curling it to lick at the rough patch within the silky smooth muscle. She cries out, her hips jerking over him and he moans, knowing she will feel the vibrations within her. “Oh god.” She sobs above him and he pulls back, licking up to her clit, still sensitive judging by the way she gasps as he flattens his tongue and drags it over the sensitive nub. He swirls his tongue around it just before he sucks it into his mouth, hard. She shouts obscenities above him, and he hopes that soldier is well and truly out for the count because even getting shot might not stop him right now. He sucks on her, bringing his teeth down in a soft bite as she circles her hips over his face and begins cursing in at least fourteen different languages that he can count.
His name is sobbed out, over and over again amongst them and he bites down gently, flicking his tongue over her clit as she screams and orgasms a second time. He thinks she tastes even sweeter this time as she collapses forward, leaning against the TARDIS and whimpering.
She only rests for about thirty seconds before she scrambles off of him, pulling and tugging at his trousers. “Where is it – where is it?” She is demanding and he swallows a laugh.
“Left pocket,” he answers her finally and her hand is in there almost before he can finish speaking. His pockets are bigger on the inside, of course, but she seems to know just where to go because her fingers wrap around his sonic quickly and she tugs it out, adjusting the setting and the chains slacken immediately and he whimpers at the sudden rush of blood to his aching limbs.
“Come here, come on sweetie.” She shushes him as he rolls away from the chair, sitting up awkwardly. The straight jacket is unbuckled as fast as she can and the first things his hands do upon obtaining freedom is pull her toward him until his mouth can cover hers. His fingers tangle in her hair as he kisses her, and she licks at the inside of his mouth, sucking at his tongue eagerly. The entire time her hands are busy between them, yanking his shirt out of his trousers, unclipping his braces and working at the fastening of his trousers eagerly.
They are both breathless when they part and she pushes him toward the TARDIS until his back is against it, and he lifts his hips to help her work his trousers and pants down. She has them halfway down when his hands leave her hair and reach for her hips. “Don’t care, good enough,” he mutters as he pulls her across his lap, his limbs tingling as sensation returns to them once more. His hands are clumsy but she sits herself in his lap, her own hands tugging his bowtie undone and unbuttoning his shirt rapidly even as she sinks onto him and they both groan in satisfaction.
“Oh god, River,” he groans into the skin by her throat and she hums in approval.
“Oh I’ve missed you,” she moans as her hands slide against the skin of his chest and he can feel the hum of the TARDIS at his back as she moves over him. His hands are tingling as they run along her skin, over her breasts, cupping and tweaking, stroking her back, squeezing her arse – and oh that was a rather nice area. He pulls her against him, faster and faster – and he knows it won’t be long – he was aching for her before she even released him.
“River,” he pants her name and she smiles down at him, bending to kiss him. One of his hands slides from her bum, up her back and into her hair, tangling there as her tongue brushes against his and everything in the room compresses around him. All he knows is her – her above him, her taste in his mouth, her thighs squeezing his hips, her hands running along his chest – he is drowning in everything River. Light explodes behind his eyes and he grips her tightly against him as he feels his orgasm rush over him. He gasps for air, repeating her name over and over as he buries his face by her throat and rides out the aftershocks.
It takes them a moment to recover, resting against each other and his ship as they catch their breath. His hands never stop stroking her gently all through the wait until she lifts herself and sits back to kiss him gently. “Are you alright?” She asks softly and he chuckles weakly.
“I am rather fantastic at the moment.” He admits with a grin and she laughs, her face alight with happiness. “I take it I showed you well enough?”
“Oh you were a marvelous boy, sweetie.” She tilts her head as if in thought for a moment before she smiles once more. “Come on then, we still have just about two and a half hours left until the change of the guard. Fancy stretching those gangly limbs, my love?”
“A shower would be fantastic.” She climbs off of him, gathering her clothes, completely unashamed of her own total nudity and he can’t say as he minds. He climbs to his feet, loosely pulling his trousers up to hang about his waist as he stretches his limbs eagerly. He scratches at his own face and grumbles. “A shave would be even better, but that would be a bit suspicious, wouldn’t it?”
“I kind of liked it,” she smiles over her shoulder at him and he leans against the wall of his ship, snapping his fingers with a grin. The doors ease open, spilling warm golden light into the darkened cube.
“Right? Beards are cool,”
“You’re not keeping it though, my love.” She laughs as she passes by him, into the TARDIS console room and the ship hums in greeting as he follows her with a pout on his face.
“But-” She turns, one hand on his chest as she leans forward and kisses him thoroughly. He moans, his hands finding her waist as he pulls her against him.
“No,” she observes as she pulls back. “Much better without the beard. Sorry, Doctor.”
“I’ll have to take your word on it.” He smiles and she looks at him for a moment, closing her eyes tightly. “What is it?” She shakes her head and opens her eyes with a smile.
“Nothing, my love. Come on, I do believe there’s a shower in here big enough for two.” She laughs at his delighted expression as he trips eagerly after her.
“Two? Ha, I’ve got a shower big enough for at least four,” he boasts as he follows her down the hall, kicking his shoes and shedding his clothes as he goes. Her sultry laugh floats back to him as she glances over her shoulder with a wink.
“Oh sweetie, I know.” He trips over his trousers and nearly face plants in the hall behind her as she laughs harder.
“What do you mean you know?” He splutters and she turns, waiting for him to catch up. Her hands stroke at his chest as she leans in to him, her mouth by his ear.
“It actually fits six. Comfortably. Well, for most parties involved anyway.” She presses a kiss to his cheek before continuing to saunter down the hall.
He scrambles after her with a sinking feeling that River Song is only going to exacerbate his kinky side. He giggles to himself as he follows the sway of her arse down the hall.
He can’t wait.