Fanfic: Chains and Whips Excite Me (River Song/Irene Adler)
I just really needed to write this. Really.
Word count: 1,036.
Summary: This is honestly just sex. Sex and nothing but sex. But you all enjoy that.
Warnings: BDSM, handcuff/whip/strap on play.
Well, as a glorious one person wants to read some of my fic [I LOVE YOU ELIZA] here it is:
Handcuffs and Riding Crops: A Scandal In Time
River Song tucks an errant curl of hair behind her ear, and climbs the final step. Stretching out a fingertip, she presses the doorbell, and riffles through the bag carelessly slung across her body. She pulls out a tiny mirror, and ever so carefully checks her reflection, running her small pointed tongue over gleaming white teeth; the contrast between her vivid, mulberry coloured lipstick is startling, and not a little hypnotic. She closes the mirror with a sharp click, and returns it to her handbag, just as the door opens.
The woman stands in the doorway, one hand resting lightly on her hip, both achingly slender and oddly commanding, and River raises her eyebrows just a fraction as she allows her eyes to travel down her body. Her smooth calves are attired in silky black stockings, ending exactly half way up her thighs, and her delicate torso is shadowed by a thin, satin robe. Try as she might, River can’t quite ignore a slight pique of interest, but smiles with an arresting charm at the woman.
‘Hello, sweetie.’ The words fall naturally from the woman’s scarlet lips, with a lascivious flutter of her eyelashes, and River is stunned. She regains her composure, and steps forward, just as the woman speaks again. ‘I think you’d better come in, don’t you?’ Again, that disturbingly tempting delivery. Who was this woman? And why was the Doctor interested in her?
She follows the swaying hips of the woman, into the sitting room, handing her coat to another, equally seductively dressed woman, feeling her stiffen as she takes in River’s dress. A small flash of amusement filters through her, and an involuntary smile stretches briefly across her face, as her hand clasps tightly on her bag.
The light in the room is harsh, and throws the sensual frame of the woman into sharp relief, but as she turns, River is treated to the first glimpse of the woman behind the smokescreen. She twirls sardonically, and bites her lip, her curls flying in a glorious riot. The woman inhales, and River fixes her eyes on her with a new intensity. ‘Do you like it? I call it my battle dress.’
The crackle of time-space energy caused Irene Adler to pause in her administration of a riding crop to the skin of a well-to-do CEO of a major stock broker. She finished her work up quickly and left the CEO whimpering and tied to his own bed to go downstairs. She found the source of the noise sitting in her living room, legs crossed, looking expectant.
“River Song,” Irene demurred, leaning in the doorway and looking over the Time Lady’s curvaceous form with appreciative eyes. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
River smirked up at the dark-haired dominatrix. “Hello, Irene. There is someone I want you to meet.”