Drive you into the corner and kiss you without a sound

by TheSpaceHairAndTheSpaceIdiot

The door creaked open slowly, as if he were being deliberate and careful in his movements. Then his head whipped out, the dark quiff of hair falling over his eyes in that utterly perfect way she adored. When his gaze rested on her, laying in bed, another version of him right beside her, his eyes gleamed, dark and heavy, as a smirk slid across his lips.

Prompt for the River/Doctor Ficathon: "Based on a scene on The Time Traveler's Wife where Henry got back to the past and found Clare sleeping in their room and then had sex with her… I don't remember if younger him was there, but it's important here: 11th and River have sex while younger him sleeps beside them." for arthurdarvillx

The Beast. The Valeyard. The Oncoming Storm. The Destroyer of Worlds. The Last of the Time Lords. The Madman in a Box.

All were titles that were meant to impose a sense of fear, of mystique, of power. All were used to describe a man who you wouldn't want to cross and who would make anyone who attempted such to rue the day they tried and cause the cosmos to weep in the process. All had been used, at various points in his time stream, to refer to to the Doctor.

The very same Doctor who was currently laying prostrate in her bed, naked save for his pants, snoring softly and giving unconscious little kicks of his leg as River traced her fingernails over the sensitive spot on his stomach, quite literally like a small puppy getting its belly scratched.

Sometimes, in moments like this, even River had trouble bridging the two sides of her husband into the same, singular person.

It was rare for River to lie awake in bed, watching her sleeping husband. She needed more sleep than he did, so usually when they fell into bed together at night, it was him waking first to watch her sleep. It was even rarer for her to catch him in such a deep sleep. His tiny snores, which River had to admit she found rather adorable, were common, but normally she wouldn't be able to get away with scraping her nails over his skin without waking him. But he certainly seemed to be enjoying the attention, even if it was unconsciously, and she supposed she had worn him out during the day.

He'd shown up in her office at the university during lunch that afternoon, flailing and raving, eyes bright with uncontrolled enthusiasm, and dragging her along by the hand to help him sort out a sticky situation involving man-eating plants on some tiny, far-off planet River had never even heard of before. They'd seen to the issue, barely escaping with their lives, as per the usual, and with River taking care of the piloting, arrived back in her office only ten minutes after they'd left. The thrill of making it back alive, combined with the pent up adrenaline and the usual burning passion that ignited whenever they were reunited, led to the rest of her break being spent with him taking her roughly over her desk.

The real exertion for him, of course, came after, when he'd been forced to sit through her remaining three lectures, impatiently waiting for her work day to end so they could retreat to her house for the evening. He'd used up even more energy keeping his mouth shut instead of interrupting her and correcting every statement he deemed objectionable, like he was usually wont to do. He'd mostly achieved the goal and earned himself no more than a huffy glare from River at the end of the day. So really, with all the effort he'd put into being on his very best behavior, it was no surprise that he was currently dead to the world.

That wasn't entirely true, though. Once River had woken up from her brief stint asleep and realized that she simply couldn't get back to sleep again, she'd tried moving from the bed, intending to spend some time at her desk grading papers. But although they were not sleeping entwined together tonight, her snoozing husband still seemed acutely aware of her movements and presence. When she'd tried to get out of bed, he'd grumbled and shuffled around on the sheets. Unable to bring herself to potentially wake him up when the rare sight of him fast asleep was so very appealing, she's stayed and was now just watching him, taking pleasure in provoking the endearing reflexes stemming from her fingers on his skin, hoping that sleep would soon pull her under again.

It was just as that fruitless wish for sleep passed through her mind that her senses immediately drew her gaze to the corner of the room. She smelled it even before the sight of it flickering into existence was visible, the faint whiff of the infinite vortex that always accompanied her husband when he landed his ship within her proximity. Normally, the sight of the TARDIS materializing inside her bedroom in the middle of the night would draw a sinful and eager smile to her face, especially since the Doctor was landing the ship with the breaks blessedly, silently off. Certainly convenient for keeping the one next to her dead asleep.

The only problem, of course, was that the Doctor was currently splayed out not a foot away from her side, his skin soft under her lingering fingers. And as far as she knew - and she could always sense it - the TARDIS he'd arrived in earlier in the day was still parked in her back garden. Which meant that this was a different version of him and, whether purposefully or not, whether younger or older, he was crossing his own time stream. That almost always meant some dire, universe-shattering plot was underway and he was coming to drag her away for help.

Or he was just looking for a Scrabble partner and was simply broadcasting his atrocious driving skills. That was certainly also possible.

She stayed precisely where she was, only acknowledging the presence of the out-of-place blue box by regretfully withdrawing her fingers from her Doctor's skin. She waited silently, anticipating the moment some version of her husband, from who knew when, decided to bound out of the ship, eager anticipation for either the next adventure or next domestic game night lighting up his face.

She didn't have to wait long. Mere seconds after the TARDIS was fully formed, the door creaked open slowly, as if he were being deliberate and careful in his movements. Then his head whipped out, the dark quiff of hair falling over his eyes in that utterly perfect way she adored. When his gaze rested on her, laying in bed, another version of him right beside her, his eyes gleamed, dark and heavy, as a smirk slid across his lips. Oh, he was most definitely older.

River sat up against the headboard, moving as slowly and carefully as possible to avoid jostling the man sleeping beside her, and glared at the newcomer, the obvious question in her stern eyes.

Instead of replying to her verbally, he only swaggered over to her and it was then she realized he wasn't wearing his usual jacket. Tonight he was dressed only in his shirtsleeves, a look he knew she found irresistible. Not that there were many looks she didn't find irresistible on him.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered, urgent but as quietly as she could. He had his sights trained right on her, eyes not drifting anywhere else in the room. This was most definitely not the side of her husband that delighted in competitive Scrabble games or entertaining groups of children in toy shops. One quick glance at him, the naughty, confident smirk and pronounced bulge in the front of his trousers, and she knew what he was after. But she was not quite desperate enough for this hungry version of her husband with his dark eyes and tempting forearms to be willing to risk waking the other version of him. Even just by getting off the bed to scamper off the the TARDIS for a quick shag would be too likely to wake him.

"You, in the next couple of minutes," he murmured, his voice filled with filth and urgency and just a touch of humor. She saw him silently slip his boots off as he walked closer. "I was just with you. We were having a very lovely evening in the forests of Arcadia," he continued, voice low-throated and quiet, just loud enough for her hear. "We had a picnic on the highest mountain peak and skinny dipped in the clearest lake. And when we settled down in the most romantic clearing in the heart of the forests, you climbed into my lap and kissed me." He didn't seem to be all to concerned with dragging her anywhere, not even just the console room, too immerse in whispering his story to her. Before she could even muster up the breath to shoo away his advancing form, he had a knee on the mattress.

"You grabbed me and you kissed me and pressed yourself up against me and touched me without ever taking a stitch of clothing off or letting me touch you in return. And after eons of endless teasing, once you'd worked me up to the very brink of coming in my pants like a teenager, you got up, gave a sinful little smirk, whipped out your vortex manipulator and left. Very naughty, River. What else was I supposed to do but come find a version of you who couldn't escape quite so easily?"

Instantly, River felt a liquid heat settle low in her body. She couldn't help it. She loved every version of the Doctor, every regeneration, every personality, and most especially, every persona he showed off in the bedroom. She was equally aroused by the yearning, pliant, eager to please Doctor who allowed her to have her way with him, enforcing her every whim on him, and happy to be sweet and gentle, curled around each other in whoever's bed they found themselves in for the night, as she was by this side of him. The side who was impatient and forceful, willing to take whatever he wanted from her, bad in all the best ways, and most definitely interested in shagging in the most dangerous of places.

River couldn't imagine many places more dangerous that this very bed right now.

"You're can't be here!" she hissed impatiently, doing her best to dismiss the natural draw to him when he was like this. "You have to leave! Now!"

Timelines and paradoxes and temporal physics zoomed through her brain, ensnaring her senses and trying to kick her common sense into place. As she ran through an endless list of reasons why she needed to get rid of this second, very eager version of the Doctor, he managed to hoist himself almost weightlessly onto the bed, knees on either side of her hips. He seemed just as conscious of his other self's delicate, sleeping form beside them as she was and was no more eager to wake himself as she was. But that did nothing to dissuade him from sliding up her body and leaning in close.

His breath ghosted over the sensitive juncture in her neck. He flicked out his tongue, licking quickly over her pulse. "You don't really want me to leave, River. Admit it, the idea of being taken right here in your bed while another me lays oblivious beside us turns you on as much as it does me, doesn't it?" he said quietly.

His voice was low and controlled and every last syllable sent a new rush of wetness straight down between her legs. Her thighs clenched tightly, repressing the urge to buck her hips up to meet his, but with the position he was in on top of her, there was no way to hide even that tiny movement from him.

"There's my bad girl," he whispered hotly, his low-throated praise sending a rush of endorphins through her veins. His hand trailed down between her legs, reaching beneath the long button down she'd stolen from the other him earlier in the evening and slid through her slick folds. "Always wet for me, aren't you, my River? Always aching, desperate for the rush of doing very naughty things you know you shouldn't. I think this will probably take the cake, don't you?"

Temptation warred with reason inside her brain, but she knew the battle was already long over. The moment he'd peaked his face out of the TARDIS and given her that positively sinful smirk of his, she'd known she would be mere putty in his hands, no matter what horrible consequences hung in the balance.

The feel of his fingers on her, desperate but controlled, insistent but still with that loving touch beneath it all that the Doctor always managed to handle her with, took her breath away. His fingers ran through her folds, slickening themselves in her juices, and she clenched her teeth, still valiantly trying keep up the pretenses of her long-lost internal battle. His fingers avoided her clit, dancing merrily away from it, but then circled one tip around her slick, already clenching center.

River braced herself against his shoulder with one hand and in the sheets beneath her with the other. Her head turned, seeking out the sleeping Doctor beside them, and imagined him waking right this moment. He would blink the sleep from his eyes, see a copy of himself with his face buried in her neck and one hand between her legs, and he'd see River, already far too close to the brink of release for having been hardly touched at all, her eyes boring into him with heated, unrestrained desire. His eyes would bug out of his head, he would splutter a series of nonsensical words, his erection would spring into existence completely without his permission, and then, still not entirely decided whether he was dreaming or not, he 'd allow himself to be coaxed by her into joining in.

As reluctant as she'd been to shed her sense of logic and responsibility at first, there was absolutely no part of her in this moment which was capable of denying that the idea of that, of having both of them, together, was quite possibly the most arousing thought she could imagine. The two of them, touching her, kissing her, sliding over and inside her, their fingers, their tongues, their cocks. Together or one after the other. It didn't matter. She just wanted them.

When the Doctor over top of her finally slid one long, crooked finger inside her, she was almost grateful that the choice as to whether to try waking the one beside her was wrenched from her when her body gave an automatic shudder. Hang the potential paradox, she needed them both and his single finger inside her, not even moving yet, was enough to make her lose that last drizzle of inhibition.

But almost as soon as he teasingly entered her, the very much awake Doctor crashed his lips to hers, effectively muffling her strained cry of pleasure. His free hand grasped greedily at her breast, flicking and pulling at her hardened nipple through the soft material of her shirt and then traveled upward again. When he was satisfied that the noises slipping from her mouth at his touch had abated, he removed his mouth from hers, clasped his free hand firmly in its place and ducked his head to graze his teeth over the juncture of her neck, biting possessively over her racing pulse. A rush of pleasure and pain swirled through her and she gave a sharp shriek, most of which was silenced by the hand over her mouth.

"Now, now, River," he murmured against her ear, careful to keep his voice barely above a whisper. "I know exactly what you're thinking and as tempting as the idea may be, we both know we can't wake him. This has to stay just between us. So as much as I usually love to hear you scream, I really insist you remain absolutely silent, alright, dear?"

He spoke softly, gently, sweetly, almost like he were simply whispering sweet nothings in her ear, but River knew from the blazing look in his eyes and the shiver that ran down her spine that there was a promise of retribution in his words. It wouldn't take much to wake the other him. Even with her mouth covered by his lips or hands, she could certainly still manage it if she was loud enough. She could reach out and touch him. She could thrust her hips too roughly. She could grasp hold of his hand. All would succeed in getting her what she wanted.

But the dangerous and seductive glint in this other him's gaze promised that somehow, he'd make her pay, both for messing with his plan and for putting the universe at risk. Never mind that this whole insane stunt was entirely his idea. She had no doubts that his version of punishment would end up being quite pleasurable in the end, but she wasn't quite in the mood to deal with the tortuous part right now. Right now, all she really needed was for him to fuck her, which he was ever so slowly, but obviously and expertly, working her up towards as he proceeded to finally move his finger in and out of her. Her hand reached up and clung to the back of his head, nails digging into his skin. She hoped it hurt, just a little, just enough to give him a small taste of the pleasure-pain coiling tightly in her lower stomach.

Outside of the bedroom, River Song did not take orders. Suggestions and directions barked out in the middle of a danger zone, when she knew without having to think that the Doctor was right and would lead them back to safety, yes. But not orders. Even in their more intimate moments, she was the more dominant one at least as often as he was, but good lord, nothing made her wetter than the Doctor taking control in the bedroom, using his low, commanding, seductive voice to turn her into pure liquid lust beneath his hands. And right now, she was obeying his order to keep quiet surprisingly well, considering how loud she usually was under similar circumstances.

But as soon as he slipped that second finger inside her, stretching her just enough for her inner walls to contract around him, she had to clench her teeth and grasp onto him tighter to avoid making any noise. He hummed approvingly, his smile pressing into her neck, and she was hit with a distinct feeling of resentment. He was allowed to make noise apparently, even as low as he was, with no chance of disturbing his sleeping self mere inches away, but she was forced to bite back the cascade of sounds trying to force their way out of her. Even still, with his fingers plunging perfectly inside her, the desire to just let loose and moan, groan, gasp, curse, anything, was building higher and higher, directly in relation to the orgasm also nearing its crest within her.

His fingers were wicked. Deliciously long, almost unnaturally long. Thin, but that only pronounced how bony they were, how thick his pronounced knuckles bulged out from the digits, perfect for scraping up against those hidden, unknown places within her that only he could seem to reach. He had the hands of an old man, fitting really, since that's exactly what he was, but attached to a young man's body. She never failed to come quickly when a couple of those fingers were buried between her legs.

He, of course, knew that, and he seemed intent on torturing her tonight, punishment or no, so it probably shouldn't have been so surprising when right before she hit her peak, his fingers slipped out of her wet, clenching heat. River fought hard against the need to scream in frustration and settled instead for screaming silently, open-mouthed, at the ceiling and scratching at his neck in revenge, this time most definitely in a way to cause him pain.

For his part, she detected only a sharp intake of breath before he was grinning, smirking and triumphant, proud to have brought her to the edge so quickly and then cut her off. She couldn't move, she couldn't make any noise, she was completely at his mercy right here in her own bed, lest she risk waking his younger self, and he knew it. And he loved it.

Before she could start to climb too far down off the edge he'd mercilessly pushed her to, he was crawling slowly down her body. His hands traced down over curves. Her shoulders, her collar bone, down the front of his own shirt, which he took the painstaking time to unbutton and open just far enough to reach her breasts. He paused there for only moments, lavishing sublime attention to each one, just a few seconds each of laving his tongue over her hardened nipples, sucking each rosy bud quickly into his mouth and releasing them with a slow graze of his teeth. River's back arched, unable to simply lie still under the attention, and fisted her hands in his hair, willing him closer, to lock on and continue pleasuring her. She was so tightly wound up she had no doubts she would be able to come just like that, just with his mouth on her chest.

He had other plans, however. He continued his trek down, pressing hot, possessive, needy kisses in a trail across her stomach and down further still. She couldn't believe he could intend to put his mouth on her, especially as highly strung as she was, and still not expect her to make any noise. No level of self-control could assure that.

Just as he spread her legs wide and moved to settled himself down before her, River's composure broke. She grabbed him by the head and pulled him insistently up, shaking her head frantically the whole while. Concern briefly flashed across his face, obviously unsure whether she was simply having cold feet over continuing with another him so very close or whether there was an actual problem. She sat up herself and hauled him all the way up to meet her. One hand went to his neck where she stroked soothingly - for her, not him - over the bow tie still securely tied around his also still-collared neck and she pressed her quivering lips to his ear.

"I won't make it, sweetie. You know I wont," she whispered, as quietly as she possibly could, barely able to hear herself. "Your tongue does things to me that I simply can't control. Let it go and you can make it up to me later."

He must have realized she was right because for the first time since landing in her house, he looked put out. But that only lasted a moment before he glanced down to where her hand was still stroking absently at his neck and quirked his nonexistent eyebrow, a delectably bad idea obviously forming in his oversized brain. Quickly, he dragged her hand away and pulled the bow tie from his neck, brandishing it out in front of him like a prize, the question clearly evident on his face.

River couldn't help but clench her lower muscles tightly, his proposal filthy and naughty and perfect for the intended purpose, and the idea of being gagged in order to prevent herself from screaming and waking the oblivious Doctor sleeping peacefully beside them sent a fresh rush of liquid heat between her thighs. She could feel the heat flare up in her chest as her desire and eagerness took hold. She nodded quickly, letting an indecent smile grace her lips. At her acquiescence, the Doctor let out a tiny growl of arousal, the idea obviously turning him on as much as it was her.

He leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, loving and tender, before pulling away again. He rolled the bow tie up into a ball, motioned for her to open up, and then pushed the loose roll of cloth into her mouth.

The cotton scratched at her tongue, the material soft but scraping against her rough tastebuds. She prided herself on not have an easily triggered gag reflex, but with the length of the bow tie and the way it filled her whole mouth, almost reaching her throat, it took her a few seconds to get used to the feeling and breathe correctly through her nose. She gave a small hum to test how much good the gag would do, increasing the volume and pitch little by little. It wouldn't allow her to scream without waking the other Doctor, but she needn't worry about small gasps of pleasure escaping from her throat, and that she could at least work with.

At her nod of approval, the Doctor, who up until then was waiting anxiously to see how this little experiment would go, snapped to attention, heat and a possessive, animalistic lust now on his face at the sight of her gagged before him. He started his slow descent again, this time obviously only taking his time because going quickly could bounce the mattress and wake the other him. As he snaked his way down, his fingers dove back between her legs. They trailed teasingly between her folds and slipped easily inside, making sure she was still wet and aching for him by the time his mouth caught up. River felt like keening from the touch of him, the anticipation ten times higher now, but she wanted to save her ability to make any noise at all for when she really needed it. And she knew, as much as she felt good right now, it would only increase exponentially within seconds.

And oh, she was not disappointed. His tongue slid lightly over the length of her slit, giving her just enough wetness and pressure to tease and cause her hips to jerk. That led to him shoving an elbow up across her hips, holding her firmly in place. Hip thrusting was probably the easiest way besides sound to wake the sleeping Doctor. So far he hadn't stirred, hadn't even snuffled in his sleep or moved his arms, the only sign that he was even alive the low, quiet snores filling the air around them. They really did have to keep it that way, River's fantasies aside.

But the touch of the other Doctor's tongue sliding along her core was almost unbearable. She was still trying valiantly to hold back even the quietest noises, but when he dipped the tip of his tongue inside her entrance, she couldn't hold back a sharp moan.

It wasn't completely soundless, and she certainly had to remain vigilant about not abusing this new form of relief, but relief it definitely was. Just that little sound was enough to hold her together while his tongue toyed with her. Sliding, stroking, thrusting, and then finally, curling around her clit. Sparks of pleasure buzzed through her body, and there she was, on the edge again. She needed him to push her just a few short steps further and allow her to fall off the cliff. She simply couldn't take another minute without being allowed to come.

Sensing her desperation and apparently deciding to take pity on her, the Doctor brought his fingers back to her entrance and slid the same two from before back within her. She gave a small, choked sob and clenched her eyes tight as her cunt clenched around his fingers. They felt remarkable, even more than they had minutes before, because now his mouth was on her too. His tongue and lips assaulted her swollen, throbbing clit. Every movement, every last twitch of a muscle inside or around or over her sent her coiling tighter and tighter, until, with one last curling thrust of his fingers, she came, a muffled scream working it's way through the sodden ball of cotton and clenched teeth and even lips clamped shut by the hand she threw over her mouth at the very last second.

River was too overwhelmed by her tumbling orgasm to stop and worry about the escaped sound. Not even the gag and her airtight hand and managed to keep her a quiet as she should have been, but she simply couldn't care, not even when her sleeping husband shifted, mumbling something incomprehensibly. It was either a profound coincidence, or the noise had woken him just enough to cause him to shift and reposition himself in his sleep. Now he was on his side, directly facing her, lips moving soundlessly along words she couldn't make out. The thought of his eyes opening groggily right then made the last few waves of her orgasm especially pleasurable.

As for the Doctor who'd caused the noise, he was still between her legs, still giving tiny little cat-like licks to her clit and stroking his fingers idly over her core, waiting patiently for her to calm down and for his other self to settle back down in to a deep sleep. When those finally happened, he looked up at her and grinned. Unlike before, when his grin was laced with the seductive, almost dark undertones of a man doing his very best to unravel her from the inside out, now he smiled with the exuberance of the twelve year old she often compared him to.

He pushed himself back up her body and onto an elbow, holding himself above her. He brought his hand to her mouth and motioned for her to open her lips. The experience with the gag had been thrilling and arousing and she certainly wasn't opposed to giving it another go some other time, but now that the excitement was over, she was ready to have access to her mouth again. He grasped the piece of soaked cloth between his fingertips and gently pulled it from her mouth, unraveling it as it went and chucking it to the side of the bed as she gasped silently against the onslaught of new air rushing into her lungs.

With that task complete, the Doctor shifted sides and supported himself on the opposite elbow. He brought his second hand up to his mouth, licking at the fingers that had just been buried inside her like they were an ice cream cone. He licked and flicked his tongue and sucked them inside his mouth one by one, closing his eyes in delight rather than making any sound.

He must have noticed her now staring at him with envious desire in her eyes because, as a peace offering for leaving her so very on edge earlier, he pressed the one finger still left uncleaned to her lips. It wasn't nearly enough of an apology for the prolonged teasing he'd made her wait through, but it would do well enough for now. She opened her mouth and took it inside, sucking her own essence clean from his skin.

When she looked back up at his face, his eyes had gone dark again. His face was still lit up in a youthful smile, but the eyes were a window to the soul and she could see, clear as day, where the image of her with her tongue wrapped around his finger, her lips sucking at his wet flesh, was sending his thoughts.

She released his finger with a nearly silent pop, relishing even the low volume of it. She eyed him eagerly, dangerously, wanting nothing more than to devour a whole other part of him, but unsure how to go about it. Shifting to a more amenable position for the act would require much too much movement. They would surely wake the sleeping Doctor in their shuffling if she were to flip them and settle down between his legs.

For the moment, she contented herself with pulling him into a bruising kiss, desperate for her taste on his lips and the feel of his hands when they came up to possessively frame her face. River allowed her hands to wander as they kissed, her tongue working hungrily, greedily, against his, all the while her hands slipped down below his waist. With one hand, she slipped her fingertips tantalizingly into the waistband of his trousers, and with the other, she stroked along the rock-hard length of him. He twitched and throbbed under her touch, the heat of him palpable even through the layers of clothing separating them. At her first stroke, he gasped lightly into her mouth and his hips thrust against her palm, completely of their own accord.

The tendrils of an idea were dripping into her mind for how to go about getting her mouth on him in a quiet enough manner, but first she needed to give him a modicum of relief. He was straining in his trousers, pushing against the stiff fabric far too much to be comfortable. She reached back up and slipped his braces from his shoulders. Then she deftly undid the button of his trousers and slowly eased his zipper down. So slowly, in fact, that she felt the movement of each individual tooth as it moved harshly against the length of him. He bit down on her lip in response, over come by the slow torture, but he followed that up with a sigh of relief once his trousers were fully open and her hand slipped inside. She eased him out of the trousers, out of his pants, and stroked over his heated flesh.

As her fingers went to work on him, he broke away from her kiss and turned his head, burying his face in her neck. He didn't suck or bite at her skin, preferring instead to simply mouth hotly at the juncture where it met her shoulder, letting out halting, silent gasps. Considering the state he'd come and torturously dragged her down into this evening, she was more than delighted to have pushed him to this point. The point of desperate abandon, so close to the point of making forbidden sounds that he had to attach his lips to her neck in order to avoid doing so. Payback really was the sweetest revenge, she thought, pressing smug kiss into the side of his head.

After a few more slow strokes along his cock and a couple of teasing brushes over his already wet tip, she pulled her hand away. She ignored his tiny, repressed whimper of frustration and placed both of her hands on his chest, gently pushing him, motioning for him to get off and up onto his knees before her. He followed her lead, his demeanor no less hungry but much more pliant than before, much more willing to do her bidding than when he'd come swaggering over to her bed.

He moved carefully, only a few inches at a time, carefully not to disturb the mattress or make any rustling sounds in the process. Once he was sat on his heels, his hands on his knees, twitching with the need to touch himself where she'd just been, he focused his inquisitive eyes on her, waiting for her next move.

River slowly sat up in front of him, a shameless smile curling on her lips, and motioned for him to lean up, kneeling tall and upright. A spark of understanding blazed in his eyes. "Oh, you're so naughty," he whispered breathily as he kneeled, his cock bobbing and twitching in anticipation only inches from her face. He shoved his pants and trousers a few inches further down to just below his hips and pulled his shirttails up his abdomen and out of her way.

"You love it," she said with relish before leaning in and sliding her tongue over his leaking tip. The Doctor gave a low-throated, breathless gasp above her. It wasn't loud enough to cause any real trouble with the sleeping Doctor, but she looked up and glared at him sharply anyway. "Not a sound! We don't have anything to gag you with!" she whispered scoldingly. Honestly, her rebuke was louder than his gasp, but the way his lips clamped determinedly together made the slightly dangerous noise more than worth the risk.

Satisfied he'd stay silent, River licked a stripe up along his shaft. When she reached his tip and sucked it between her lips, she could feel the thrumming need to move coiled tight into his frame. It got more insistent as she took more of him in, with him unable to stop himself from giving little, almost imperceptible thrusts of his hips, desperate to get more of his length into her mouth. She pressed her nails sharply into his hip, warning him to keep still as she worked him over.

She started her strokes down his length slowly, taking part of him in and then retreating before going back for more. The Doctor's hands flailed a little at his sides before crossing protectively over his chest where they could cause little trouble. One glance up at him showed that his fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles were white.

Further down her mouth slid, inch-by-inch as as she valiantly worked his cock all the way in until his head touched the back of her throat. She breathed slowly through her nose, adjusting to the feel of him filling her mouth. At the feeling of being buried so far in her, she felt him shudder and drop his head back. The view of the ceiling had to be a lot less enticing than looking down, but she had plans for him very shortly, so that was certainly a good thing.

After a moment, she clutched both of her hands over his arse and pulled him in closer to her. His hips, his stomach, and the last inch of his cock she hadn't yet managed to take in were all pulled unceremoniously into her. The length of him, the thickness,of him, always made getting his final inch between her lips an exciting challenge. Especially now when the possibility of failing, of going too far too fast and activating her gag reflex, of having to pull back with a coughing splutter, was completely out of the question. That thrilling, dangerous thought, of the other Doctor waking up to his wife gagging and choking over his own throbbing erection as another him kneeled before her on the bed they shared, spurred her on even more.

She finally got there, as she always did, but the small victory was much more encouraging than it usually was, especially when the Doctor chose that moment to drop his hands from his chest and grab hold of her hair. He clenched almost painfully at her curls, but the pain of that only encouraged her more. He held her to him, desperately trying to keep her in place, her mouth completely engulfing him, cheeked hollowing, and her lips brushing very lightly over the spattering of hair on his pelvis. A few seconds more later, and he relented, his grip loosening and pulling her slowly back over him, giving up his brief control of the reins. His hands stayed in place, tight in her hair, but he merely followed her own motions instead of taking control of her like she knew he was dying to. If the situation weren't so tense and delicate and dangerous, she'd want nothing more than to let him wrestle for control of her, but right now they simply couldn't get lost in the rhythm of movement that would require.

She delighted in riling in him up, in bobbing her head up and down over him. With her hands still clutched over each of his cheeks, she could feel every tense muscle along the back of him, in his lower back, his arse, his thighs. He was straining with the effort to remain on his knee, with the effort to stay still, and the effort to keep absolutely silent.

She could feel him starting to make that climb towards release, though, and binary vascular system or not, he wouldn't be able to recuperate quite as quickly as she'd need him to. Regretfully, with only a few more quick motions of her hollowed out cheeks and a final lick to his tip, she pulled back.

He groaned, an intense glare on his face, the heat and pure, naked need blanketing his expression. Instead of whispering anything to him or touching him anymore, she lowered herself gently back down to the bed, spread her legs wide before him, and beckoned him closer with her best come-hither look. Her hands immediately went to work sliding slickly along her folds, teasing both herself and him in preparation for what came next.

The Doctor shut his eyes against a silent groan and shoved his trousers past his knees, giving him the freedom to moved as he needed. He took the painstaking steps to slowly and easily lower himself to the bed, his hips slotting against hers perfectly. His mouth claimed her first, lips biting and possessive, his tongue thrusting inside her mouth with a greedy vengeance. He hadn't spilled inside her but the faint trace of him behind her lips was enough to drive him mad and she allowed him his desperate exploration.

Finally he broke away and glanced down at where they were nearly, but not quite, joined. He glanced over at his sleeping self over a few inches away, then bent back towards her to whisper in her ear. "We'll have to be careful."

That was certainly obvious. Holding hips still for the more stationary acts was one thing, but this next bit actually required movement. And too much rocking and shaking of the mattress was sure to disturb the third party currently sleeping on it. She really didn't know how this next bit would go, how high the risk of actually getting caught would be, but she really couldn't bring herself to care much.

Yes, the idea of getting caught by the husband innocently and ignorantly beside them was an extremely arousing thought, but she knew rationally that it simply wasn't something they could allow to happen. And yet, the burning aching need within her screamed at her to disregard the warning bells in her head. She needed him, there was no getting around that. It may have been him who orchestrated this insane evening, but she was going to be the one who ensured it met it's final satisfying conclusion. They just needed to be very, very careful.

Noting the steely, lust-filled determination in her eyes and swallowing down his own slim worries with searing desire, he situated himself just perfectly at her entrance. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, more slowly than he'd ever done so before, he pushed inside her and made a home for himself deep within her clenching heat.

River threw her arm over her mouth, trying desperately to muffle the escaped cry flying free from her lips. The feel of him, so perfectly ensconced inside her, was too much to bear silently, and the need to moan, to scream, to cry, was simply too great. Try as she might, the pathetic, mewling sound couldn't be kept at bay.

The Doctor gasped at the feel of finally being sheathed inside her. From his story, he'd been kept on edge far longer than she'd been and she'd at least been allowed the pleasure of release not so long ago. Her future self had coiled him up so tightly, his only conscious thought had been to come find her somewhere she couldn't escape in order to lay claim to her. Now that he was here and finally getting what he'd needed all this time, his resolve was cracking, even at this first delicate thrust.

He dropped his head, eyes shut tight and lips clasped together as he tried desperately to keep his composure. His head hung limp over her face and she could see the straining muscles in his biceps as he struggled to hold himself up over her. Slowly, just as slowly as his thrust inside, he slid out until just his head remained clasped between her lips. The feeling of that was agonizing, the loss of his satisfying girth, stretching her so perfectly, was unbearable. She couldn't shift gently enough to hook her legs around his waist to encourage him back inside so she gave in and whispered to him instead, her lips at his ear. "Sweetie, please."

He only shook his head frantically. They both knew he couldn't fuck her the way they wanted him to, the way they needed him to. All this terrible, seductive, arousing buildup should have culminated in quick, powerful thrusts of their hips, both of them working together to bring them each to their own satisfying, screaming release. Any other time, this would have been a frenzied, furious, frantic shag, their ability to move and fumble and moan and speak taken for granted. But by the very nature of this forbidden encounter, none of that was possible. This would have to be slow and gentle, completely counterpoint to what their bodies craved.

He slid back in, sheathing himself firmly inside, biting back a groan as her wet, greedy walls pulled him further in. The wet, sucking friction was intense for each of them. They couldn't move as they liked, so the sensations from their limited allowed movement was amped up higher than it reasonably should have been. Every slow, slick press of his length into her, every uncontrolled, tiny rise of her hips up to meet his, every barely-there thrust, every tight squeeze of her hands around his straining biceps, only surged them further more, higher, tighter, closer.

Together they moved, gently, lovingly, softly. Their slick skin stuck together and their breaths quickened as they each fought to control their breathing. This wasn't the quick, filthy shag he'd made her crave with his depraved eyes and domineering control when he'd first arrived, but it surely couldn't be said that it wasn't just as good. It wasn't often enough they let themselves do this, join together without the rush of endorphins taking over and speeding them on to the crash of blinding orgasms without taking the time to truly savor each other. River liked it hard and fast, she liked the excitement of him taking her, of the desperate, frantic rush to release.

But times like this, where they took it slow, allowed themselves to look into the other's eyes the whole time and count each stuttering breath they exhaled in tandem, never failed to send a rush of arousal and flood of emotion to her brain. And this time was no different. It was a satisfying reminder that she loved the man moving over top of her, and even more, that he felt the same for her. She may have her doubts and insecurities come up and rear their ugly heads at times, she was only (mostly) human after all, but the look in his eyes as he gazed down at her in gasping, delirious wonder, was the sort of proof she'd hold in her chest the next time her nagging doubts clawed their way through her. This may have started as a simple, naughty, dangerous need for release for him, but it had evolved into something else all together and it brought a wet stinging sensation to her eyes.

She could feel him getting closer. The poor thing had been kept at bay for so long and both her and her future self had teased him relentlessly. His movements were still slow and gentle, he'd never break enough to put them at such high risk of discovery, but she could feel the way his hips shook and his skin shivered when his stomach pressed against her on his upward thrusts. She could feel her climax approaching, but she wouldn't meet it quickly enough, not at this pace. Determined not to be left behind, she grabbed one of his hands and tugged. He had to very carefully shift onto one elbow, but he allowed her to lead his questing and willing fingers between her legs.

His fingers flicked at her clit and her entire body was kickstarted into gear. The heat within her roared to life as he thumbed at the stiff, swollen hub of sensation. He rubbed at her, slowly at first, but built up to a delicious, burning frenzy, working her clit over, continuing to slide into her at the same tortuous pace, his fingers giving her the pressure and power he couldn't quite manage with his cock. Before she knew it, she was right at the edge again, racing him to the finish.

Try as he might, however, his undersexed, overstimulated state made it impossible for her to beat him. He came, spilling inside her and biting into her shoulder to stop the animalistic howl threatening to break loose from his throat. He managed a few more shaky thrusts as his fingers continued to work at her and she followed him moments later, the crescendo of sensation and pleasure burning up her spine and tearing a loud, sharp cry from her lips.

Her stomach plummeted in the very instant afterward. She didn't even give herself half a moment to think. Her instincts took over. The scream wasn't even fully out of her mouth when, with a powerful push, she shoved the Doctor, still gasping, coming down off of his high, still nestled inside her with his trousers around his knees, off of her and onto the floor with a thud.

His shout of surprise and pain was drowned out by the concerned, shocked gasp from the Doctor lying beside her. "River? What's wrong?" He was instantly awake, jumping, hovering over her shivering body with the shaken look of someone disturbed from a deep sleep expecting to find something terrible when they awoke.

Her orgasm was still rushing in her veins, tears were still prickling at her eyes, and her breath still came in heaving gasps. She couldn't find the words to answer him and only shook her head tersely, trying to force herself back under control. Her thoughts went straight to the poor Doctor she'd thrown unceremoniously to the floor. At least he was using his brain and keeping low to the ground and silent.

"What was that noise?" The newly-woken Doctor looked like he wanted to scan the room for deadly intruders but couldn't bring himself to tear his gaze away from her shivering form and tear-filled eyes.

She thought quickly, forcing herself to answer his question with something believable. "A book," she said breathlessly, trying to get her voice back under control. "I knocked a book from the nightstand when I woke up."

The Doctor hovering over her was worried, half-panicked at the state he'd woken to find her in. His hands flailed and his face pinched into an expression of worry and confusion. After watching her closely as she attempted to calm herself, he sighed sympathetically and pulled her into his arms. "Was it another nightmare? Are you ok?"

Of course that's what he'd think. The symptoms were surprisingly similar and she'd always been prone to them. All too often she'd found herself in the throes of awful, screaming nightmares, wrenching both herself and him from deep sleeps. So many nights, he'd woken just like this, to find her sweaty and breathless, pupils dilated and a look of fear on her face. They'd faded somewhat over the years, but not to the point where her having another nightmare wouldn't be the very first place his mind jumped. She felt slightly guilty for accepting his sympathy when none was needed, but the excuse really was too perfect. She nodded slowly into his shoulder and allowed him to hug her close as she shuddered against his bare chest.

He dragged them both back down to the mattress, her laying across his chest and his face tucked into her shoulder. His arm held her close and traced ancient, swirling symbols of comfort and safety into the small of her back beneath the shirt she wore. She let him lull her back into a state of calmness and serenity and she'd almost managed to forget that another version of him was still lurking, laying silently on the floor beside them, and likely sporting a few bruises. Not to mention the perfectly visible TARDIS parked in the corner of the room. That, the Doctor holding her thankfully hadn't seemed to notice in all the excitement. That would have taken some explaining.

After a few more minutes of muttering words of comfort in her ear, and once her shaking had ceased and her breathing returned to normal, he seemed content that she was recovered from the emotional toil tormenting her sleep. He placed a kiss to her temple and slowly allowed himself to drift to back into a contended slumber.

River on the other hand, as comfortable and sated and secure as she felt, was also wide awake and on-edge. With baited breath, she waited for several more minutes for some sign of the Doctor she'd just slept with. She hadn't heard a single, solitary sound since he'd hit the ground with a yelp. But quiet as he was, he was still in here somewhere, silent and just out of sight, obviously laying low until he was certain his other self was asleep again.

Eventually, he showed himself, his messy, disheveled flop of hair peeking up over the top of the mattress, obviously having crawled around the edge of the bed to reach the side she now faced. He moved himself slowly to a standing position once he saw the coast was clear. He was fully dressed again, his trousers back over his hips and done up, his shoes presumably back on his feet, and even the sodden, forgotten bow tie peaking out of his front pocket. His shirt was untucked and his braces hung loose around his hips, but he was at least dressed now. She watched him carefully, fondly, their eyes meeting over the sleeping form of his younger self.

She expected him to look angry or pained. At least playfully, trying to goad her into feeling bad for abruptly throwing him to the floor while he was still buried and twitching inside her. But instead, there was amusement and fascinated comprehension and utter adoration there instead. She realized he must be remembering back to this exact moment, his blissful ignorance when he'd woken up and lulled her back to sleep, completely blind to the fact that his wife hadn't been woken from a traumatizing nightmare, but rather was recovering from a mind-blowing orgasm he himself had caused.

He leaned in close, dangerously close to his own chest, just to get his face near to her. She longed to reach up and stroke her hand over the sharp lines of his face, but the hand not buried beneath living pillows was clutched in the protective hold of his sleeping self's hand. Instead, he brought his own hand down and brushed a stray curl from her face. He leaned in even closer, not caring that he was inches away from brushing up against himself, possibly waking himself all over again, until his lips were right up against her ear.

"Thanks, dear," he said quietly, the sweet, reverent tone of his voice so at odds from the dark, demanding one he'd had when he first came swaggering out of the TARDIS. He pressed an affectionate kiss to her cheek and backed away a tender, happy grin on his face. She watched him go, rounding the front of the bed until he reached the TARDIS, with a smile of her own. When he reached the doors and opened them, he turned and smirked over at her, his delight in his dangerous, oh so bad plan coming to fruition after all evident. He pressed his fingertips to his lips in goodbye, and twirled back inside the blue box.

Moments later, the TARDIS dematerialized out of view, just as silently as it'd arrived, no traces that he'd ever been there in the first place other than her half-unbuttoned shirt, which she couldn't get to to fix. She wondered idly how she'd explain that to the younger him in the morning if he noticed her breasts inexplicably hanging out of her stolen shirt, but as she burrowed deeper into his embrace, she decided not to worry about that just yet.