Fic: Catch Me If You Can (1/1, Adult)
Dec. 31st, 2019 11:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nonelvisTitle: Catch Me If You Can
Characters/Pairing(s): River Song/River Song
Rating: Adult
Word count: 1,489
Spoilers: none
Contains: light bondage (gagging)
Summary: "Funny," River said, "all that time-travelling, and this is the first time I've met myself."
Author's Notes: Many thanks toplatypus for the incredibly last-minute beta of my one and only fic this year. I got it in just under the wire, YESSSSS.
::xposted to![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dwfiction and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
dwfiction, and archived at A Teaspoon And An Open Mind and AO3
River knew better than to get caught on the Tenorian streets after curfew, especially not with a spiderwebbed gold and ruby necklace liberated from the royal treasury. So she had a plan: black clothing, balaclava, and most important, hiding in a narrow, unlit alleyway until the armed patrol changed shifts. A flawless plan, were it not for the similarly dressed woman who ducked into the alleyway seconds after River, pressing herself flat against the wall beside her.
“This is my spot,” River hissed. “I rang ahead.”
“I know,” the woman replied. “I was there.” She tugged at her balaclava, rolling it off her head smoothly, then shook out familiar blonde, corkscrewed hair. River saw those same curlicues every morning, and judging from the way the sodium-vapour streetlight accented her highlights, she’d just had it touched up, too.
“Funny,” River said, “all that time-travelling, and this is the first time I’ve met myself.”
“You’ve got a lot more time travel yet in you. Just be sure to come back here in, oh, about five years, give or take a day or two. Write it down in your diary.”
River cocked her head towards the alley opening, listening. The distant but still distinct sound of laughter, probably from teenagers daring the curfew patrols to come find them. The rapid slap of bootsoles faded away as some of the soldiers gave chase, but it wasn’t loud enough to be the full patrol. They’d be crawling the town square for a while yet, which left her and herself stuck in the alley, at least for now.
Might as well strip off that itchy wool, then, and she removed her own balaclava, scrunching it into a pocket. Her other self scanned her top to bottom, spending perhaps more time at chest and waist level than strictly necessary.
“Strange,” she said. “You see yourself in a mirror all the time, but it’s not at all the same in person. We’ve got a smashing bosom.”
“I like to think so,” River replied. “Was that too obvious? I mean, if you think so, I must think so, and ... how do you suppose the Doctor does it? Meeting himself? The pronouns alone are a nightmare.”
Her other self smiled enigmatically. It was a bit good, that smile, now that River could see it outside of a mirror; knowing, a little smug, alluring. Well done, her.
“Spoilers, sweetie. But you’ll have the best time finding out.”
The hooting and catcalls from the square had quieted down, and River slid a little closer to the alleyway’s mouth to check for unexpected openings in the patrol schedule. Two soldiers stood guard outside a pastry shop, while another two manned a checkpoint at one of the streets leading into the square. She’d accounted for some waiting time between the necklace’s acquisition and when it had to be turned over to its rightful owners, but it looked like she was going to have to use every second of that.
The other woman glanced at the chronometer on her vortex manipulator and sighed heavily. “Another twenty minutes until the guard shift changes. Next time we do this, we must remember to pack a book.”
“All I’ve got is our diary. And I suppose you could read mine, but I can’t read yours.”
“We could play a game to pass the time – I spy with my little eye something beginning with ‘R’ ...”
“Please. Give me a hard one next time.”
“Well,” the other woman said, “if you insist,” and leaned over to kiss her.
River had always believed that if you wanted to do something right, you had to do it yourself, and sure enough, her other self was very, very right. A hand cupping the back of her neck, fingers dug into her hair; her tongue slipping sweetly into River’s mouth; another hand at her waist, pressing River against the alley’s brick wall while her knee nudged River’s legs apart.
River tugged at her other self’s black jumper, sliding a hand into the back of her waistband. She was still buying the same underthings five years on, apparently, with a simple lace frill that set off the practicality of the otherwise boring knickers with a thrilling tickle on her palm.
Her other self’s thigh thrust harder between her legs, still maddeningly limited pressure relative to what River actually wanted, but of course, her counterpart knew: River’s own black jumper was now rucked above her breasts, her counterpart’s lips encircling a nipple through the silk of River’s bra, one hand slowly popping the button at the top of River’s trousers so she could slide down the zip.
“Twenty minutes, you said?” River said between gasps. “I’m not going to last that long.”
“No reason not to try.” A finger skimming the lace top of River’s own knickers, tracing their outline while River squirmed beneath her touch.
“Oh. Oh –” A hand suddenly against River’s mouth to muffle her.
“Shh. We don’t want the guards to hear you now, do we?” The woman let go of River’s mouth, scrambled in a pocket. “Open wide, there’s a good girl.” River bit down on the scrunched balaclava and tried to make a mental note to bring a proper gag in five years, knowing she’d forget.
But it worked, thankfully, because her other self licked two fingers and slid them inside River’s knickers and between her legs, and River’s moan dulled enough for only her partner to hear. A slow sweep across her first, then again, not quite able to reach inside her – that’d teach her to wear such tight trousers – then a gentle, steady rhythm just below her clit.
River’s eyes fluttered shut as she clenched down on the balaclava and focused on her counterpart’s motions. The slick slide of her fingers, slipping up to tease River’s clit before driving back down again; the softness of her lips, first tracing circles around River’s nipple, then drawing light kisses across her belly as she knelt before River and rolled the tops of her trousers down below her thighs. The prickle of lace from her knickers as the other woman tugged them down further, and warm breath across her cunt when she knelt before River, still working her with two fingers, almost agonisingly slow.
When her other self’s tongue finally found her centre, River threw her head back so hard against the wall that she was surprised she didn’t see stars. Perhaps soon, if her counterpart kept going, long licks rolling through River in waves. How long had it been? Surely they were going to miss their chance to leave if this continued, but River no longer cared. Focus only on the hand at her hipbone, the blonde curls clenched in her own tight hands, the flick of tongue and fingers, the simmering beneath her skin.
Her other self drew back, cocked her head up towards River, who moaned in frustration. “Hush, darling. I thought I might watch,” her counterpart said, and her fingers bore down on River’s clit, tight and increasingly rapid circles, and what felt like every cell in River’s body accelerated all at once.
She would have come with a shout and great gasps for air, were it not for the gag. Instead, there was a well-muffled cry as her body bucked beneath her other self’s touch, and she was suddenly and profoundly grateful for her own ingenuity when it came to not accidentally getting herself killed while in a compromising position. Her other self kissed River once at her bellybutton, then carefully replaced her knickers and trousers and removed the balaclava from River’s mouth.
“I can think of worse ways to pass the time,” the woman said. “And it’s time for the guards to change their shifts – stay there, get yourself together, I’ll go look – yes, they’re all at the checkpoint now, probably trading stories about how many ordinary citizens they got to harass tonight.”
“I’m ... goodness, I hardly know what to say. Thank you? Thank me?”
“How about ‘let’s go while the getting’s good’?”
“That’ll do.” River slunk towards the end of the alleyway and turned left, hugging the sides of the buildings at the edge of the streetlamps.
She was nearly outside the square when she realised she was alone, and that her trouser pocket was unexpectedly light. Where the necklace should have been was a note instead:
“Oi! You there laughing!” called a guard. “It’s after curfew! Don’t make me come over there!”
River kept laughing. “Catch me if you can, then,” she said, and let him chase her all the way back to her ship.
Characters/Pairing(s): River Song/River Song
Rating: Adult
Word count: 1,489
Spoilers: none
Contains: light bondage (gagging)
Summary: "Funny," River said, "all that time-travelling, and this is the first time I've met myself."
Author's Notes: Many thanks to
platypus for the incredibly last-minute beta of my one and only fic this year. I got it in just under the wire, YESSSSS.::xposted to
dwfiction and dwfiction, and archived at A Teaspoon And An Open Mind and AO3River knew better than to get caught on the Tenorian streets after curfew, especially not with a spiderwebbed gold and ruby necklace liberated from the royal treasury. So she had a plan: black clothing, balaclava, and most important, hiding in a narrow, unlit alleyway until the armed patrol changed shifts. A flawless plan, were it not for the similarly dressed woman who ducked into the alleyway seconds after River, pressing herself flat against the wall beside her.
“This is my spot,” River hissed. “I rang ahead.”
“I know,” the woman replied. “I was there.” She tugged at her balaclava, rolling it off her head smoothly, then shook out familiar blonde, corkscrewed hair. River saw those same curlicues every morning, and judging from the way the sodium-vapour streetlight accented her highlights, she’d just had it touched up, too.
“Funny,” River said, “all that time-travelling, and this is the first time I’ve met myself.”
“You’ve got a lot more time travel yet in you. Just be sure to come back here in, oh, about five years, give or take a day or two. Write it down in your diary.”
River cocked her head towards the alley opening, listening. The distant but still distinct sound of laughter, probably from teenagers daring the curfew patrols to come find them. The rapid slap of bootsoles faded away as some of the soldiers gave chase, but it wasn’t loud enough to be the full patrol. They’d be crawling the town square for a while yet, which left her and herself stuck in the alley, at least for now.
Might as well strip off that itchy wool, then, and she removed her own balaclava, scrunching it into a pocket. Her other self scanned her top to bottom, spending perhaps more time at chest and waist level than strictly necessary.
“Strange,” she said. “You see yourself in a mirror all the time, but it’s not at all the same in person. We’ve got a smashing bosom.”
“I like to think so,” River replied. “Was that too obvious? I mean, if you think so, I must think so, and ... how do you suppose the Doctor does it? Meeting himself? The pronouns alone are a nightmare.”
Her other self smiled enigmatically. It was a bit good, that smile, now that River could see it outside of a mirror; knowing, a little smug, alluring. Well done, her.
“Spoilers, sweetie. But you’ll have the best time finding out.”
The hooting and catcalls from the square had quieted down, and River slid a little closer to the alleyway’s mouth to check for unexpected openings in the patrol schedule. Two soldiers stood guard outside a pastry shop, while another two manned a checkpoint at one of the streets leading into the square. She’d accounted for some waiting time between the necklace’s acquisition and when it had to be turned over to its rightful owners, but it looked like she was going to have to use every second of that.
The other woman glanced at the chronometer on her vortex manipulator and sighed heavily. “Another twenty minutes until the guard shift changes. Next time we do this, we must remember to pack a book.”
“All I’ve got is our diary. And I suppose you could read mine, but I can’t read yours.”
“We could play a game to pass the time – I spy with my little eye something beginning with ‘R’ ...”
“Please. Give me a hard one next time.”
“Well,” the other woman said, “if you insist,” and leaned over to kiss her.
River had always believed that if you wanted to do something right, you had to do it yourself, and sure enough, her other self was very, very right. A hand cupping the back of her neck, fingers dug into her hair; her tongue slipping sweetly into River’s mouth; another hand at her waist, pressing River against the alley’s brick wall while her knee nudged River’s legs apart.
River tugged at her other self’s black jumper, sliding a hand into the back of her waistband. She was still buying the same underthings five years on, apparently, with a simple lace frill that set off the practicality of the otherwise boring knickers with a thrilling tickle on her palm.
Her other self’s thigh thrust harder between her legs, still maddeningly limited pressure relative to what River actually wanted, but of course, her counterpart knew: River’s own black jumper was now rucked above her breasts, her counterpart’s lips encircling a nipple through the silk of River’s bra, one hand slowly popping the button at the top of River’s trousers so she could slide down the zip.
“Twenty minutes, you said?” River said between gasps. “I’m not going to last that long.”
“No reason not to try.” A finger skimming the lace top of River’s own knickers, tracing their outline while River squirmed beneath her touch.
“Oh. Oh –” A hand suddenly against River’s mouth to muffle her.
“Shh. We don’t want the guards to hear you now, do we?” The woman let go of River’s mouth, scrambled in a pocket. “Open wide, there’s a good girl.” River bit down on the scrunched balaclava and tried to make a mental note to bring a proper gag in five years, knowing she’d forget.
But it worked, thankfully, because her other self licked two fingers and slid them inside River’s knickers and between her legs, and River’s moan dulled enough for only her partner to hear. A slow sweep across her first, then again, not quite able to reach inside her – that’d teach her to wear such tight trousers – then a gentle, steady rhythm just below her clit.
River’s eyes fluttered shut as she clenched down on the balaclava and focused on her counterpart’s motions. The slick slide of her fingers, slipping up to tease River’s clit before driving back down again; the softness of her lips, first tracing circles around River’s nipple, then drawing light kisses across her belly as she knelt before River and rolled the tops of her trousers down below her thighs. The prickle of lace from her knickers as the other woman tugged them down further, and warm breath across her cunt when she knelt before River, still working her with two fingers, almost agonisingly slow.
When her other self’s tongue finally found her centre, River threw her head back so hard against the wall that she was surprised she didn’t see stars. Perhaps soon, if her counterpart kept going, long licks rolling through River in waves. How long had it been? Surely they were going to miss their chance to leave if this continued, but River no longer cared. Focus only on the hand at her hipbone, the blonde curls clenched in her own tight hands, the flick of tongue and fingers, the simmering beneath her skin.
Her other self drew back, cocked her head up towards River, who moaned in frustration. “Hush, darling. I thought I might watch,” her counterpart said, and her fingers bore down on River’s clit, tight and increasingly rapid circles, and what felt like every cell in River’s body accelerated all at once.
She would have come with a shout and great gasps for air, were it not for the gag. Instead, there was a well-muffled cry as her body bucked beneath her other self’s touch, and she was suddenly and profoundly grateful for her own ingenuity when it came to not accidentally getting herself killed while in a compromising position. Her other self kissed River once at her bellybutton, then carefully replaced her knickers and trousers and removed the balaclava from River’s mouth.
“I can think of worse ways to pass the time,” the woman said. “And it’s time for the guards to change their shifts – stay there, get yourself together, I’ll go look – yes, they’re all at the checkpoint now, probably trading stories about how many ordinary citizens they got to harass tonight.”
“I’m ... goodness, I hardly know what to say. Thank you? Thank me?”
“How about ‘let’s go while the getting’s good’?”
“That’ll do.” River slunk towards the end of the alleyway and turned left, hugging the sides of the buildings at the edge of the streetlamps.
She was nearly outside the square when she realised she was alone, and that her trouser pocket was unexpectedly light. Where the necklace should have been was a note instead:
So sorry, sweetie, but the “diasporic governor” you were supposed to meet was actually a smuggler. He’s enjoying his retirement now in Stormcage, and I’m returning the necklace to the actual governor.
A lovely adventure as always, my dear. And now you’ve got me to look forward to.
xoxoxo
“Oi! You there laughing!” called a guard. “It’s after curfew! Don’t make me come over there!”
River kept laughing. “Catch me if you can, then,” she said, and let him chase her all the way back to her ship.