Yowzah Oneshot Collection (2)

70(M)

                        Breathless

                         leiascully

"Doctor!"

He smirks to himself and strolls over to the doors. She has her own key, of course, and realistically, the TARDIS would probably open at a snap of her fingers, but River likes to make an entrance. He throws open the doors, just waiting to see what she's done this time, and River falls into his arms in a swoon.

He catches her by sheer reflex, the weight and shape of her familiar in his arms. There's not much good place to put her in the control room, but he eases her down into his lap, sitting on the floor and cradling her head. Her breathing is shallow and quick, but that seems to be a function of the corset she's laced into. He takes a moment to study her appreciatively. Her eyes pop open.

"I am never," she says in little bursts of words, "letting Jenny and Vastra talk me into this again."

"What, fighting crime in Victorian London?" He helps her up. The structure of the garment makes her even more graceful than usual, but only when she's on her feet.

"No," she says. "This costume."

"I don't know," he says, looking her over again. "Rather flattering, isn't it?"

"I find the fact that I can't breathe properly outweighs any benefits," she says, glaring at him. Her chest heaves in a distracting way. "I'm laced in so tight it's as if I haven't even got lungs. A little bit of running and I faint into your arms."

"Yes, but that was entertaining," he points out. "Usually it's the other way around. And I'm sorry, well, actually, I'm not, but it really does splendid things for your figure."

"I think Vastra and Jenny thought so too," she says, a smile playing about the corners of her lips. "Ah, there's your jealous face."

"When Vastra knew you were a woman, I knew it was trouble," he says sulkily.

"I haven't taken them up on that offer yet," she points out. "One day, perhaps."

"Fifty-first century flexibility," he mutters to no one in particular. She chuckles and leans against him.

"Oh, my love, you make it so easy," she says. "Ah. I'm a bit light-headed again. Perhaps we ought to sit down."

He escorts her to one of the comfy chairs. "Better?"

"Hmm," she says thoughtfully. "Interesting."

"Interesting," he echoes. "Good or bad?"

"Could be very, very good," she murmurs. He knows that voice well. She slides to the floor, gazing up at him from between his knees. Her fingers make their way up the inseam of his trousers. He can't help looking at the way her breasts heave when she breathes in those short gasps. It's an elaborate costume she's wearing, the corset shaping her from hip to chest so that her breasts are propped up on top of it. There's some sort of thin chemise under the corset that covers her cleavage and shoulders, but just barely, and under it all, long flowy skirts.

"Ah," he says. "Shall I?" He leans forward, reaching for the laces of the corset, which has the happy side effect of bringing his face closer to her cleavage, but she leans back.

"More fun with it on," she says.

"Not being able to breathe?" he says doubtfully.

"You make me dizzy to start with," she points out. "Just this once, we'll try it. You know the idea has its attractions."

"Flirt," he says, distracted by the slow movement of her hands up and down his thighs. He was aroused from the moment she fell into his arms and she knows it. She smiles at him and tips herself forward to rub her cheek against his knee.