TW/DW Fic: Legends
Title: Legends
Author: nancybrown
Rating: R
Characters/Pairing: River/Jack (implied River/Doctor, Jack/others)
Spoilers/Warnings: mild angst
Words: 500
Summary: He's a legend, if you know the right myths.
AN: Written for spoiler_song's One Night to Write Prompt by bendingwind: Jack/River, substitutes for what (who) they really want.
***
The thing is, he's a legend, if you know the right myths. River's heard plenty of stories, even a few that haven't been written yet. He changes names, but his face only changes slowly. She caresses his cheek now, pressing a hand against his smooth jaw, feeling his purr as he kisses her. Her fingers drift back to the few grey hairs silvering his temples, and wonders what he must have been like back when his hair was still all dark.
She's an old hand at kisses and kissing, and these are definitely in her top five. No matter that she's drifting, just a little. It's been too soon since she last ran into her love. (Are they married at this point in his timeline? Ought she think of him as her husband? This is the part she hates about time travel.) For every stroke of this man's skilled hands down her arms, she feels the ghostly fingers of someone else, distracting her from what should be a delightful experience.
River smiles around a kiss and then twists her body. An easy grin greets her in return as she settles atop him. She's skilled at many things, though, like reading faces. He's enjoying himself, but there's a shadow locked behind his eyes, someone in his own head he's trying not to think about as he's here with her.
Almost visibly, he pushes away the memory, too wary himself to show his thoughts for long, and then the heat in his eyes is for River alone. The bite he presses into her flesh, the matching one she leaves on his lip, these speak of focus on the now. The legends were clear on this as well: if she were a little more naïve, she could let him make her feel like the only person in the world he wants at this moment. No wonder he's so famous.
And then it is just rhythm, and the slide of bodies together in the cold light of the cabin's one bulb, and yes, he's exactly as good at this as the stories claim. She'll have her own tale to add after tonight. It'll certainly make interesting reading the next time she runs into the Doctor.
She is not thinking about the Doctor. She is not.
When his eyes flutter closed from his pleasure, she doesn't know what name he's biting back, which old heartbreak he's failing to forget. When her own shut tight, she stops caring.
It's good. It's almost good enough.
The stories say he doesn't sleep, which is a damned lie. River gathers her things and leaves him dozing, pausing for a kiss at the edge of the silver. They'll meet again, she knows, but when his heart is bound up to another's. Some spoilers are useful to know when one has a habit of following myths.
This myth is just a man, however much life he has yet to spend, and she has legends of her own to be making.
Author: nancybrown
Rating: R
Characters/Pairing: River/Jack (implied River/Doctor, Jack/others)
Spoilers/Warnings: mild angst
Words: 500
Summary: He's a legend, if you know the right myths.
AN: Written for spoiler_song's One Night to Write Prompt by bendingwind: Jack/River, substitutes for what (who) they really want.
***
The thing is, he's a legend, if you know the right myths. River's heard plenty of stories, even a few that haven't been written yet. He changes names, but his face only changes slowly. She caresses his cheek now, pressing a hand against his smooth jaw, feeling his purr as he kisses her. Her fingers drift back to the few grey hairs silvering his temples, and wonders what he must have been like back when his hair was still all dark.
She's an old hand at kisses and kissing, and these are definitely in her top five. No matter that she's drifting, just a little. It's been too soon since she last ran into her love. (Are they married at this point in his timeline? Ought she think of him as her husband? This is the part she hates about time travel.) For every stroke of this man's skilled hands down her arms, she feels the ghostly fingers of someone else, distracting her from what should be a delightful experience.
River smiles around a kiss and then twists her body. An easy grin greets her in return as she settles atop him. She's skilled at many things, though, like reading faces. He's enjoying himself, but there's a shadow locked behind his eyes, someone in his own head he's trying not to think about as he's here with her.
Almost visibly, he pushes away the memory, too wary himself to show his thoughts for long, and then the heat in his eyes is for River alone. The bite he presses into her flesh, the matching one she leaves on his lip, these speak of focus on the now. The legends were clear on this as well: if she were a little more naïve, she could let him make her feel like the only person in the world he wants at this moment. No wonder he's so famous.
And then it is just rhythm, and the slide of bodies together in the cold light of the cabin's one bulb, and yes, he's exactly as good at this as the stories claim. She'll have her own tale to add after tonight. It'll certainly make interesting reading the next time she runs into the Doctor.
She is not thinking about the Doctor. She is not.
When his eyes flutter closed from his pleasure, she doesn't know what name he's biting back, which old heartbreak he's failing to forget. When her own shut tight, she stops caring.
It's good. It's almost good enough.
The stories say he doesn't sleep, which is a damned lie. River gathers her things and leaves him dozing, pausing for a kiss at the edge of the silver. They'll meet again, she knows, but when his heart is bound up to another's. Some spoilers are useful to know when one has a habit of following myths.
This myth is just a man, however much life he has yet to spend, and she has legends of her own to be making.