another ficlet for the ficathon.
bibliophilia. prompt was library sex, courtesy of madgirlwithabox. Also posted here, because in a comment I cannot edit obsessively, as is my wont.
She hooks her thumbs into the elastic waist of her knickers and stands in front of him, her bare feet flat and steady on the worn carpet, her stance wide. The light from the reading room window is a thin, pale gold - a streetlamp’s glow refracted by patterns of rain against the glass. Outside, the night air is thick with the summer storm; inside, the machine chill of the public library’s old air conditioning unit prickles her naked skin.
He sits on the edge of the old oak table and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing above his collar. “So. We’re into trespassing now, are we?”
“Yeah,” she says, “because that’s a new thing.” One hand on his chest and she pushes him back, to the middle of the table. He knocks over a stack of books with one hand, another with his elbow - thick-bound tomes that slide across the table, catching under her knees as she straddles him, fingers of one hand curled into the hair at the back of his head. He’s already hard.
She pulls one book from the piles around them, flips it open and pretends to peer at the small, dark lettering.
He smiles, his control thin and growing thinner. “Learning anything?”
She returns his smile, sharply; releases his hair and slips her hand into the inside pocket of his suit coat. She pulls out his glasses and unfolds them with a flick of her wrist. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
She slides them onto her face and returns to the book. “It says here,” she traces her finger along the cool paper, “that the mind is the seat of all desire.”
His smile widens to a grin. “Fascinating.”
“I thought so.”
“Particularly when one considers that that,” the Doctor says, nodding his head at the book in her hand, “is a birding guide for the Southern Counties.”
She lowers the book until it covers her breasts, almost demurely. The pages are soft against her skin. “You,” she says, “have no imagination.”
“On the contrary.” He slips the book from her hands and drops it to the table. “I’m full of ideas.”
She hooks her thumbs into the elastic waist of her knickers and stands in front of him, her bare feet flat and steady on the worn carpet, her stance wide. The light from the reading room window is a thin, pale gold - a streetlamp’s glow refracted by patterns of rain against the glass. Outside, the night air is thick with the summer storm; inside, the machine chill of the public library’s old air conditioning unit prickles her naked skin.
He sits on the edge of the old oak table and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing above his collar. “So. We’re into trespassing now, are we?”
“Yeah,” she says, “because that’s a new thing.” One hand on his chest and she pushes him back, to the middle of the table. He knocks over a stack of books with one hand, another with his elbow - thick-bound tomes that slide across the table, catching under her knees as she straddles him, fingers of one hand curled into the hair at the back of his head. He’s already hard.
She pulls one book from the piles around them, flips it open and pretends to peer at the small, dark lettering.
He smiles, his control thin and growing thinner. “Learning anything?”
She returns his smile, sharply; releases his hair and slips her hand into the inside pocket of his suit coat. She pulls out his glasses and unfolds them with a flick of her wrist. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
She slides them onto her face and returns to the book. “It says here,” she traces her finger along the cool paper, “that the mind is the seat of all desire.”
His smile widens to a grin. “Fascinating.”
“I thought so.”
“Particularly when one considers that that,” the Doctor says, nodding his head at the book in her hand, “is a birding guide for the Southern Counties.”
She lowers the book until it covers her breasts, almost demurely. The pages are soft against her skin. “You,” she says, “have no imagination.”
“On the contrary.” He slips the book from her hands and drops it to the table. “I’m full of ideas.”