River Song and the Doctor were curled in adjacent chairs, she reading an archaeology journal from the 52nd century and he flipping through a Cold-War-era newspaper. He'd picked her up from Stormcage, excited by the prospect of having 'a quiet night in with the Mrs.,' as he put it, and they had parked their beloved cobalt police box in a dim corner of the still sparsely populated Americas in around the year 1300 for the evening. The green velvet lamps of the Tardis' latest incarnation of a sitting room cast a warm glow over their still forms, and it was silent but for the occasional turning of a page and the almost inaudible breathing of two sets of lungs and beating of two pairs of hearts.
How calm and delightfully domestic this is, thought the Doctor. We don't have nearly enough nights like this.
How boring and excessively domestic this is, thought River. Something must be done to liven the night up a bit.
In a minute she'd decided on her course of action and took the first step to destroy the seemingly peaceful night that lay before them as of yet.
"Doctorrrr…," she trilled softly, letting her heavy book fall to the floor and leaning towards his chair.
He didn't so much as look up from his reading, and replied with a noncommittal "hmm…?" Sighing, River realized she'd have to be quite persuasive tonight in order to get what she so desperately wanted. It wasn't, of course, that the Doctor didn't want it too; he just didn't know he wanted it yet.
"Sweetie, I'm not feeling so swell," she purred. He shifted his eyes up to glance at her, but didn't move his head. "I think I might be coming down with something," she finished.
"Well, I am a doctor…" he muttered, letting the newspaper flutter shut on his lap. "What are your symptoms?"
Oh goodness, the poor man was stepping right into her sly little trap now. Wonderful.
"I just… I feel cold, and shivery, and I'm having these incredibly intense sort of—oh, what's the word?—aha! cravings."She batted her eyes at him, biting her lip gently.
He cocked his head, giving her a look of dense confusion. "Cravings…?"
River took a deep breath and slid from her chair, pushed the papers from his lap onto the floor, and straddled him boldly in his armchair. She looked him straight in the eyes before leaning in to whisper in his ear. "For you, of course, darling." Finishing her statement with a light nibble on his earlobe, she drew back to see his eyes flicker from blurred hesitation to bright realization to the darkness of desire.
"Yes, I think I have just the thing," he mumbled before crashing his lips into hers. They carried on snogging passionately for a matter of minutes before both pulling away to gasp for air. He brushed a stray curl from her forehead and cupped her face in his hand tenderly. "Care to take this elsewhere, my love?"
"Absolutely." They stumbled together down the hall, hands linked. When they arrived at the door of their bedroom and hastily shoved it open, it was clear the Tardis had taken a few liberties of her own preparing the room for them. Flickering candles were clustered on every flat surface, the king-sized bed was draped with a scarlet satin coverlet, and the musky aroma of something like fresh roses and warmed cinnamon filled the air. "Bless you, Sexy," uttered the Doctor in astonishment. He paused to take it all in with a silly grin adorning his boyish face.
With a chuckle, he then grabbed River by the waist and walked her backwards until her legs were pressed against the plush fabric of their new bedding. He pushed her shoulders lightly and she fell softly to the bed. Smirking sensually, she grabbed him by the bowtie and yanked him down to fall atop her delicious curves.
It is going to be a lovely night, thought the Doctor, and I wouldn't trade this for the universe.
It is going to be a lovely night, thought River, and thank God the Tardis is soundproof.
