Yowzah Oneshot Collection (1)

108(M)

double your pleasure, double. your fun
Leiascully

River sashays out of her cell and into the TARDIS. "Ah," she says, stopping just inside the doors, a smile breaking over her face, "it's that sort of birthday. Hello, Doctors."

"Hello, River," they say in stereo. They're both lounging smugly over the railing in the control room, and she really can't tell the flesh Doctor from the Flesh Doctor.

"Uncanny, the Flesh," she says, kissing each one on the cheek. "Has the other you been stabilized, my love, or am I going to have an interesting experience at an inopportune moment?"

"Should be fine," says the Doctor.

"I don't mind staying behind," the ganger Doctor says, smoothing his hand down River's back. "Just in case." He leans in over her shoulder to kiss her ear, and she leans back against his chest, reaching out for the Doctor.

"Don't take all night, boys," she tells them, winking. "They don't like it when I stay out too long."

The Doctor smirks and comes close enough for her to grab his shirt and tug him flush against her. Pinned between two Doctors: oh yes, she could get used to this. Oh, yes indeed.

Half an hour later, she's on her hands and knees, the Doctor's prick hot and smooth in her mouth and the ganger Doctor thrusting into her, his hands tight around her hips. They should have thought of this years ago, though it probably violates some sort of Time Lord code of non-duplication. It's hard to feel alone in the universe when there are copies of you out shagging your girlfriend. She has the feeling the Stormcage guards wouldn't be terribly enthused about allowing her conjugal visits anyway, unless perhaps they were allowed to watch.

But this, this is bliss. They have so little time together; she's always wished she could touch more of him at once, take more of him at once. She loves him in her mouth, loves the feel and smell and taste of him, loves the pressure at the back of her throat and the challenge of making his eyes roll back in his head and his fingers tangle in her hair. But she always wants him inside her too, filling her cunt until she could cry out at the glory of it, their hips rocking together in urgent rhythm. She can never be close enough to him. If she could shed her skin and nock their bones together, she wouldn't be close enough to him. But it's good, so good right now, just enough of his skin touching hers to drive her wild.

She curls her tongue over the head of his prick and grinds her ass into his hips. More and more and more she wants and it's almost a shame when he grunts and his fingers tighten in her hair and he comes in her mouth. She swallows, taking his prick down her throat one last time, her lips firm around him so that she can release him as slowly as she wants. She doesn't want to let go; she wants to hold him in her, to feel him thrusting into her mouth and her cunt at the same time, but the ganger Doctor is thrusting faster now and she can't quite catch her breath. She opens her mouth, and the Doctor kneels in front of her. He kisses her, his hands running all over her back and her shoulders and her trembling arms, murmuring to her but the words are too low for her to catch, with the blood pounding in her ears and her breath too loud and the light too bright and her body too small to contain this much pleasure, this much joy, this much life.

When she comes fully back to her senses, she's lying in bed in the shelter of their arms. They don't touch each other much, but they can't keep their hands off her. She stretches languidly, happily, turning her face up for a kiss from one and then the other. The Doctor caresses her breasts; the ganger Doctor is stroking her back with one hand and her ass with the other, teasing her with his fingers, which are slick and warm against her skin.

"Are you sure it can't be my birthday every day?" she asks.

"May I remind you for the hundredth time that this is a time machine?" says the Doctor.