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               das kitzlig Thema

                        leiascully

Bless Space Florida, the Doctor thinks drowsily, flat on his face on a towel in the sun. Bless automatic sand and regulated waves and bless the person who invented the bikini swimsuit that River's been prancing around in all week while they've been on enforced vacation. Enforced by her, that is, after they both nearly froze to death on one of the ice planets; even Time Lords aren't impervious, she likes to remind him. A week of doing nothing (except for making love everywhere River can think of, naturally) has been oddly exhausting, and he's very content to just lie on his towel and soak up the radiation. Brilliant idea, Space Florida. He'd kiss whoever invented it, but that would involve getting up.

"You've gotten lazy, my love," comes River's amused voice from somewhere above him. He opens one eye and sees her painted toes.

"I think I've saved the universe enough times to merit a few days off," he says with dignity, only it comes out all muffled by towel and he gets sand in his mouth. "Besides, bits of me are still thawing."

"You seemed plenty warm earlier," she tells him. He tips his head to pan up her body. Legs, yes, very nice; bikini bottom, quite fetching; stomach waist ribs, he enjoys all of that; bikini top, cups overflowing; ah, and there's her face, gazing down at him in affectionate reproach. He smiles up at her, squinting behind his sunglasses.

"Can't ever be too warm, that's what I always say," he reminds her.

"Do you," she says skeptically. "I'll remember that next time we find a lava planet."

"Love a good lava planet," he agrees. His feet stretch past the end of his towel and he digs his toes in the sand as he watches her, enjoying the heat of the top layer and the cool damp of the underlayers.

"Oh, shove over," she says, and he obediently shifts to make room for her on the towel. She sits down beside him, her bare lower back against his hip, and he pillows his head on one arm and gazes at her. "You know I'm going to vaporize those as soon as you take them off your pretty face."

"These sunglasses are cool," he says, turning his face back down against the towel and burying his head in his arms. "Besides, they were a present from Amy."

"Yes, sometimes I think she doesn't like you very much," River teases.

"Hmph," the Doctor says. With his arms crooked around his face, all he can see when he opens his eyes is a cool dark fuzzy cave. It's interesting to talk to River without seeing her. He should tell her so; she always comes up with the best ideas based on what he thought were innocent observations.

"After all, you did whisk her daughter away to a life of dangerous adventure," River continues. Her nails scrape lightly across the back of his neck and he shivers.

"You were already whisked," he protests. Her fingernails feel good on his sun-baked skin. She's careful not to scratch him - actually, it rather tickles. He's used to the flat of her palm against his back or the tips of her fingers, but she's grown her nails out lately, and he likes it. It's a new sensation. Her fingers move slowly over his back and shoulders in a winding pattern. It's hypnotic, nearly, prickly and tickly and soothing and sexy all at once.

"I would have whisked myself away and found you," she says, and the words only half make sense, he's so transfixed by her touch. He wants to squirm, but he can't move or it will change; he has to stay exactly where he is, he thinks, or she'll just be scratching his back, some ordinary kind of touch instead of this mesmerizing barely-there pressure. This drowsy haze of heat and pleasure is delicate and he must not disturb it; it's been ages since he felt this kind of peace.

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