Yowzah Oneshot Collection (1)

168(M)

      At the End of All Our Exploring

                        bluegarters

‘We can’t,’ he gasps, losing control of his eyebrows.

She smirks at him, walks her fingers closer to where they want to be. ‘Says who?’

‘I say!’ His voice has soared, and he clears his throat. He might be blushing, or it might just be the bright red paint of the car reflecting in the sunlight. She’s not quite sure. ‘I say, River!’

‘Oh, very well,’ she says, giving in gracefully. ‘Budge over, then.’

He eyes her warily, as if he suspects her of having further designs on his braces, and edges over slightly. She smiles, adjusts her gunbelt, and swings up beside him, stretching out on the long red nose of the car.

‘Beautiful sky we’re having,’ she says, tipping her head back. ‘Big and blue, my favourite.’

He’s stiff next to her, his limbs tense. ‘River. What are you doing?’

She leans her head over to rest it on his shoulder. ‘Nothing, apparently, love. Sky-watching.’

‘You attacked me.’ His voice is injured, but a little intrigued nonetheless.

‘You’re 1103,’ she says, matching him fact for fact.

He shifts, but doesn’t move away. ‘What does that have to do with you attacking me?’

She turns her face so he can see her smile, crooked and promising. ‘I’ve been meeting 900-year-old versions of you recently. Meeting a version of you that remembers me – that remembers us – well, I just couldn’t resist.’ She reaches down and laces their fingers together, rubbing gently with her thumb.

‘Ah,’ he says intelligently, his eyes fluttering shut. A lifetime of loving this man has, among other things, taught her his erogenous zones. His hands are unbelievably sensitive.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ she says, letting her voice slip lower, take on a teasing lilt. ‘I’m perfectly content to sit out here with you and watch the sky.’ Add a thoughtful tone. ‘I do, after all, have a vibration setting on my torch.’

The finger massage must have been even more effective than usual, because he doesn’t get it for a minute. When he does, he tenses, and his fingers tighten. ‘River!’

‘What? It’s true,’ she says. ‘Want me to show you?’

She starts to sit up, to pull away from him, to go for the torch in her gunbelt, but he catches her wrist. ‘River,’ he says again, like he can’t not say it, his eyes hooded and intense as they look up at her.

She kisses him. She has to, with a look like that. Leans down and kisses him, hard and fast and sure, staking her claim and reaffirming her commitment. The sun is warm on her back, and his lips dry against hers, and these are the moments she remembers, small and precious, when his mouth opens under hers.

When she pulls away, his eyes are dazed, but he still has hold of her wrist. ‘Amy and Rory will be here soon,’ he manages to get out, but his voice is already a little hoarse, and she knows she has him.

She swings a leg over his, watches his eyes widen and his tongue dart out to wet his lips. ‘Then we’d better hurry.’

His eyes drift shut as she leans down to steal another kiss, warm and slow. He’s tentative at first, and this time she takes it slowly, pressing her lips chastely to his, revelling in the feeling of being close to him again. All the lonely days in Stormcage melt away, here with him, under the New Mexico sky.