River Song (
hell_in_highheels) wrote2009-02-08 09:51 pm
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[oom: Dinner with
captainryan]
[from here]
River arrives in the bar just before seven in the evening, and secures a table for two in a cozy corner of the bar. She's dressed casually, wearing her favourite Irish sweater, jeans and her tan field boots. But she has to confess, she's spent a bit more time with her hair and her face.
For as interesting as Richard is, he is also a good looking man.
She orders a glass of pinot noir, and waits, watching the faces in the crowd. When she sees him, she smiles broadly and holds up a hand.
River arrives in the bar just before seven in the evening, and secures a table for two in a cozy corner of the bar. She's dressed casually, wearing her favourite Irish sweater, jeans and her tan field boots. But she has to confess, she's spent a bit more time with her hair and her face.
For as interesting as Richard is, he is also a good looking man.
She orders a glass of pinot noir, and waits, watching the faces in the crowd. When she sees him, she smiles broadly and holds up a hand.
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She never expected life after death to hold such a miracle as this man, here in her arms.
Her scent changes, subtly, desire and hope and something else, something powerful. She nods, shakily. "Come here to me," she whispers, pulling him back up to kiss his mouth, gentle and hungry, her hands trembling against his face.
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Later.
Right now he wants nothing more than to hear her moan again, to know she's happy. He breathes her scent in, desire and hope and something powerful, and kisses her deeply.
Don't hurt. I'll take care of you. Don't hurt.
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His hunger makes her feel so very alive. She strokes his neck and shoulders, down his well-muscled ribs, caressing the small of his back, wanting to learn every curve and plane of his body. Later she will catalogue each detail with her lips and her tongue, but right now they are better occupied.
He feels her hands brush over his sides and slip between their bodies, fumbling with his belt, teasing lower, wanting to touch him.
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want you need you can't get enough
"All right," he amends, returning to her mouth with a passion. One hand tries to assist her with his trousers, though he's distracted by what her hands are doing.no subject
Fingertips slip beneath fabric, touching heated skin, caressing, marking the line of his arousal with the softness of her palm.
She inhales, holds her breath, focused entirely on the sound of his voice, the weight of his flesh and blood in her hand.
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He leans into her touch, moaning a bit himself.
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"More," she breathes. "Please."
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He can't keep his hands off her, though, as he runs them down her abdomen - her skin's so smooth - and begins tugging at her own trousers.
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There is a flurry of movement as he flutters her feet to get rid of them, her hands pressing against his chest for balance, before she lays back again, anticipation and heat shimmering on her skin. She looks up at him, biting her lower lip, waiting for him.
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He takes a short detour at her breasts, bringing his mouth back into play, before he moves even higher and kisses her again. One finger hooks over the elastic of her panties and pulls, stretching the rubber tight but not moving them down yet.
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She feels the bite of the fabric against her hip and she moans, the sound loud in the small room. She whispers his name, pleading.
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The fabric follows shortly after.
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Her legs tangle with his, one knee rising as she curls her heel down the back of his thigh. So close to where she needs him, again so far away.
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But it doesn't mean the first time isn't special.
He's so hard but he holds himself just outside, gently stroking. He tilts his face, ducking under her nuzzle to get at her neck again, nibbling, biting. She's his and he wants her to know it.
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Slick as an eel, warm and sweet as summer peaches, she slides along the length of him, undulating slowly, every iota of her awareness filled with anticipation. Reaching for him, calling him home.
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There's no need to be hesitant when you're certain your partner wants you.
He releases her throat, kissing the teeth marks he's left, teasing them with his tongue.
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Her body ripples and she rises, wrapping her legs around his hips, pulling him closer. She contracts around him with a hard pulse of desire. So good. So deep and so very good.
She holds tight and gives herself over to him completely.
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He can feel his control breaking down as he moves faster, pushing into her harder with each thrust.
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Her hands flutter on his back and she swears indelicately under her breath.
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He can feel the response of her body, her tightness when he hits her sweet spot, and he drives into her that much faster, pushing that reaction as much as he knows how.
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She rises up to lick at his throat, nuzzling until he leans closer. Her mouth finds the top of his shoulder, hot open mouthed kisses that turn into tiny bites.
He can feel the moment she begins to peak, her scent changing again, surrender and bliss and a fierce sense of possession. A long span of heartbeats unfold as she begins to quake, and then she is bucking hard beneath him, her heels digging into his thighs. Her nails draw lines of fire down his back, her teeth fix in his shoulder, and her voice rises in unfettered passion.
She's marked him, and now she claims him.
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Aftershocks still ripple through her, and she undulates softly beneath him, gentling him back to earth, kissing his jaw and then his mouth. Soft kisses, tender, slow kisses, across his cheek and the peak of his brow, back down the other cheek to his chin, smiling as she comes back to kissing his mouth again.
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