ol_yellow_eyes | OOMM: Data and River in London

Entry tags:

oomm,
river song

OOMM: Data and River in London

[OOC: Continued from here.]

It had been going so well.

What started as a casual evening stroll through Highgate Cemetery in 19th-century London somehow turned into a flight for their lives. Data did not know why they were running, only what they were running from-- three rather large human males, who seemed quite angry about something. He had also caught glimpses of weapons in their possession, namely a pistol and what seemed to be a horsewhip. (He might have wanted to observe them more closely if he had not been so concerned for River's safety.)

She knew the city better than he did, and she was the one who suggested they take advantage of the city's sewage system.

And that is how they ended up here.

Data turns to River finally. "Now that we are no longer in immediate danger, may I ask why those men might have been pursuing us?"

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Her hand covers his at her breast, showing him how firm he can be and still not hurt her. (Perhaps firmer than he'd expected.) His synthetic skin contrasts against hers, silver against gold, and she looks down at his expression, wanting to see everything about him. He'll give up his secrets sooner or later, and she's patient, cataloguing every shiver, every soft exhalation, learning him just as surely as he's learning her.

She licks her lips, rocking forward as he guides her, letting her clit grind against the curve of his cock. The pressure makes her moan softly, makes her clench around him, wet and hot. There's something more going on here, but just what, she can't put her finger on, not yet. It's hard to be objective when he fills her so deeply she can barely remember her name.

"I could get used to this," she drawls, rising up and sinking down again, a little quicker now, just a little swirl added to her hips to get him deeper, if that was even possible. "I could -- really get used to this."

The amount of pressure that she demonstrates with his hand is more than he expected, though he was well aware that he has been trying to "play it safe" somewhat (as the human expression goes).

He also happens to notice the same contrast in their skin tone, now that his hand is in his line of sight. He is not certain how it makes him feel. It is aesthetically pleasing, in its way, but perhaps it is difficult for him to forget that it highlights their differences, that there is none of the same sweat or flush gracing his features, that he is still not quite as warm as she is. On the other hand, it is that very contrast that makes him marvel at the fact that this beautiful creature is in his arms, that she wants to be close to him in the most intimate—most natural, most biological—possible way.

Not only that, but it reminds him how incredible it is that she has brought him to this point, feeling closer to human than he ever dreamed was possible. He shudders again.

"I believe my… mental pathways could also become accustomed… to these… sensory input patterns," he manages. A few more sharp breaths, and he moans again, at a spot she just hit that feels particularly good. His hands find their way to her hips again, holding her closer, even more firmly now that he has a better idea of how much force he can use.

She grins down at him, still undulating against him, the movement a gentle adagio. When he moans, she tilts her head just a bit, and repeats the exact same set of motions, letting his hands guide her. His vocal responses telegraph the pleasure, and she can feel him respond instinctively. She groans, and does it again.

"Feels good, doesn't it? Makes you want more."

Her experience is taking over, this position allowing her a greater range of motion. He's quickly finding out that tradition is overrated.

Overrated, indeed. It suddenly crosses his mind to wonder how many times she has done this-- she is quite good at it.

It appears that a subtle, emphatic nod is about all he can manage at this point, in response to her statement. It could not possibly feel any better than it does; it is like giving sight to a blind man and immediately introducing him to the most beautiful image in the universe. Data is slowly coming close to losing it again-- gradually, but mere minutes after the last time.

He moans a little quietly, his speech processors seemingly compensating for the loss of volume with an increase in duration. The sound is somewhat uncomfortable, maybe a little desperate. His hands are still holding her to himself, and his eyes are closed, as he processes her scent, her voice, and most of all the feel of her around him.

With his eyes closed, she's allowed to look. She watches his face as she moves, watches the smallest changes in his expression. Her movements slow, and her hands caress down his arms, savouring the feel of his skin, the muscle and tendon beneath. He is exquisite, she thinks. In that moment, she thinks she wants to give him everything. Teach him everything. Let him take whatever he wants from her, knowing that he'll carry it with him for lifetimes after she's gone.

"Data." Her voice is quiet, a gentle plea. "Look at me."

She doesn't want this to be over yet. She has so much left to learn about him. So much yet to show him.

There is a pause of almost two seconds before Data opens his eyes in response to her request. He blinks, eyes moving back and forth to study carefully every inch of her face. His expression is curious, almost desperately so, like there is some question on his mind to which an answer is imperative.

He is trying not to get that same overwhelmed feeling again, but it is difficult to do so, when he is looking so deeply into her eyes at this moment, so close to the very height of pleasure. He does not break eye contact, but she may notice him blinking more rapidly, perhaps even swallowing once or twice.

His gaze is almost impossibly steady, in fact, for someone who is still breathing heavily, shuddering and gasping with nearly every movement that she makes.

Her movements gradually still, and she lets her weight settle across his hips, holding him deep inside her. Her lips are parted, rosy and swollen from his kisses, her hair is mussed, hanging across her eyes. Her hands still stroke along his arms, just a light caress.

"Talk to me. Tell me what it feels like."

She's trying to distract him a little, so he can enjoy it and not be so overwhelmed.

Data takes a deep breath, picking up on possible indications that she is trying to get him to relax. He shudders a few times in his attempt to do so, especially at the feeling of her lightly caressing his arm. His hands relax their grip, and he caresses her skin in a similar way, in the dip of her waist and back, down her sides and on her thigh.

It is more comfortable for him, more familiar, to be able to think a little more clearly for a few seconds. Cognitive thought has been all but drowned out by sensory information for a short but significant duration of time. At the moment, though, it is easier to consciously process what is happening, how good it feels, how wonderful this woman is in his arms, and most of all, how much he has always wanted this.

As for how it feels? Data is not certain how to describe it. He could attempt to explain how the information is being processed in his systems, what sort of data is being transmitted to his central processing unit from each and every tingling nerve on the surface of his skin. He decides to keep it simple, instead.

"It feels warm, and soft," Data answers, letting out a silent, happy sigh. "It feels wonderful." There is really no other way to put it.

"It is everything that you are," he adds, reaching up to brush some strands of hair out of her face.

She leans into his touch at her cheek, smiling at the sentiment in his voice. Her lips brush against the inside of his wrist.

"I am far more than this, Captain, and it would do you well not to forget it." She punctuates the sentence with a definitive clench of her muscles.

"And I agree. You feel wonderful, too."

She gives him her full gaze, her blue eyes wide and open, waiting until he's ready to continue, enjoying the intimacy of the moment.

"I will not forget that," Data assures her, unable to keep from smiling.

He rises off the bed far enough to bring his lips to hers, rather suddenly. His kiss is passionate, excited, and she can probably feel him smiling against her lips more than once as he drinks in the taste of her.

One of his arms curls around her waist, tightening to pull her closer, and push himself deeper.

She melts into his kiss, winding her arms around his neck, letting her hands play through his hair and skim down his shoulders. Her hips meet his, her thighs parting to accept him, rocking again, the urgency returning. Her nails graze down his back, not hard enough to draw blood if he were human, but enough to leave her mark.

He presses deep and she gasps against his mouth, a shudder of bliss running through her entire frame. He does it again, and her eyes roll back, and she's clinging to him.

His body tenses at the feeling of her nails-- it is a little painful, almost, but at this point it is incredibly pleasant. His own fingers dig into her skin with measured forcefulness.

His tongue is inside her mouth, and he relishes the feeling of being connected to her in two places. He continues to test for sweet spots in both, and as he memorizes her he is gradually hitting each one with more frequency.

At this point, he is not paying as much attention to how it feels for him. Except that he is, in that it is currently every one of her reactions that is helping to set him off. Every noise she makes, every gasp of breath, the increase in heat and the racing of her pulse-- all send waves of pleasure through him just as potent as the ones being caused by direct contact. He feels a little possessive over these responses; a little proud, even. Which only excites him more.

She moans into his mouth, her touch more than a little frantic now. Her hips shimmy and buck against his, and for the first time in their interaction, she's not in control, not even a little.

He's driving her higher, pleasuring her with every grasping touch, every kiss, every thrust. He's pushing her to that place where she can't do anything by dissolve into a haze of white heat and blissful overload. She has to pull back from his kiss, burying her face against his neck, shuddering hard and crying out as she tips over the edge.

The cry is what sends him over the edge, and he emits one of his own, as the pressure explodes out of him again. The pleasure he experiences is just as potent this time, if not greater, to his delight and surprise. His entire body goes rigid, and his arms lock tight around her, solid and inescapable. He shudders several times, moaning and almost laughing, holding her as close as he is able and trying to feel as much of her skin against his own as possible. It feels so warm... He believes he is beginning to understand what humans mean when they describe a "glowing" feeling.

He smiles this time while he attempts to catch his breath, though she cannot see it. He brings his cheek to rest against hers for a moment, keeping her close. His grip on her releases to the point where he is cradling her more than trapping her, and he leans forward just slightly, until most of her weight is resting in his arms. He bends to plant kisses on the soft skin of her neck, keeping them so soft it is almost teasing.

Edited 2010-12-04 08:15 (UTC)

It takes a long time for her to drift back down, and she revels in the feel of his arms around her, his cheek against her own, his lips on her skin.

She keeps her eyes closed and savours the moment, letting her respiration return to normal, sighing softly. Gradually, her grip on him relaxes and her hands skim down to the small of his back. Her thighs still hold tight to his hips and she is not entirely still against him.

Data continues to kiss her, enjoying every millisecond as it exists, not wanting to let go. He lets his thought processes wander slightly. His kisses are a little deeper now against her skin, and climb upwards until he finds her lips again. The kiss is deep, but soothing. One hand reaches up to stroke her hair before he pulls back to look into her eyes. He shifts a little bit against her as well, resting his forehead against hers.

"What are you feeling?" he asks her, quietly.

She drinks deeply of his kiss and is reluctant to be parted from it, but yes breathing is not exactly overrated.

She looks up at him as best she can, smiling.

"I feel a strange contradiction of sated and impossibly aroused. I'm very happy to be here, with you, but a little sad at the prospect of having to let you go at some point in the future. Mostly, I'm just content, because you feel really good holding me like this." She steals another kiss.

"And then there's the little hint of erotic anticipation, because it's your turn to pick positions, even if I should probably drink something before we continue."

He did ask, and she can be just as thorough as he is, when she so desires.

If asked, he would admit that the he did not expect such a thorough answer. But he certainly appreciates it. Even more pleasing than the amount of detail, however, is the content. Her words cause a warm smile to spread across his features, and compel him to roll over and tackle her onto the mattress again, pinning her there and greeting her lips with yet another quite enthusiastic kiss.

"I am sad at the prospect of having to let you go as well," he tells her, stroking her cheek with his thumb and burying his fingers in her hair. He means it in both senses of the phrase, in that he does not want to be physically parted from her in the present, and it is even more depressing to think that he will eventually have to say goodbye to her and return to the Enterprise. He is quiet for a moment, and simply looks at her face, studying the flush to her skin and the glistening beads of sweat that still hang there.

"But you should probably drink something," he agrees finally, with an almost inaudible sigh. "I suppose that you will also require food within the next few hours."

She gasps and giggles, groans against his mouth as he pins her, coming up a little breathless when he finally pulls away.

"I know, pesky organic bodies. I think I'm fine with water for now. And there's rations in the pack in there, so I think we're fine for this evening." She tips her head back into his caress at her scalp, much like a cat seeking more of that wonderful sensation,

Her fingernails graze down his back, again not enough to break the skin, but enough to leave light trails of sensation. "And you don't have to let me go any time soon. I mean, I'd love to see your starship."

Her voice drops to a sultry purr. "But later. I want to know what you have in store for me next, Data."

"Mm. I would love to show it to you," he murmurs against her ear, pulling closer and shuddering slightly at the feel of her nails. He places a few slow, lingering kisses on her neck and cheek, then pulls back to look at her face again.

"Later, of course. However, I will not continue with our current activities until you have met your 'pesky organic' need for additional fluids," he teases, kissing the tip of her nose.

(He would be a gentleman and get it for her, but he did not know if she was planning on using the sonic screwdriver to manipulate the remaining water in some way, as it is probably still warm from when she was washing.)

He kisses her nose and she giggles even louder, still purring through it all.

"Oh Data, it won't take me but a moment but -- you have to let me up first."

Her eyebrows rise in question at their currently wonderfully entangled state.

"Perhaps I consider the duration of time described by humans as 'a moment' to be too long," Data suggests, kissing the apple of her cheek and pausing to breathe in her warm scent. But he does let her go, untangling himself and rolling over to the side of the bed closest to the wall.

She holds his gaze, holding one of his hands in hers and pressing a kiss to his palm, folding his fingers around it.

"Sometimes we need mere moments apart, to appreciate the moments we are together," she muses, never breaking his gaze.

She manages to never once look away, even when she reaches into her bags and retrieves a canteen that looks far more advanced than anything he's ever seen. She does have to look away to drink, and she does drink long and deep, but as soon as she's done and recapped the canteen, she's moving back to him, slipping beneath the covers with that same feral look in her eyes.

"Now, you were going to show me something amazing."

Data watches her with a focused gaze. The technologically advanced container does catch his eye, but does not hold it for long. He seems much more fascinated by the subtle movement of muscles underneath the skin of her throat, as she swallows the liquid.

Once she is beside him again, he slips one arm around her waist and pulls her closer.

"I do not recall ever making such an assertion," he says, one eyebrow raised in continued amusement. He lets go of her waist to softly trace the contour of her hip, staring into her eyes all the while. There is enough humor in his voice and his eyes to indicate that he is simply teasing her.

There's a distinct flutter to her eyelids when he caresses the curve of her hip, and her hands seem to take that as permission to do a little exploring of their own.

"Oh you never said as much, flat out, but you hinted, didn't you?"

Her palms smooth across his chest, down his stomach, fingertips marking the hollow of his hip before continuing on, the backs of her knuckles grazing his erection again, a deliberate slow tease.

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ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com - 2010-12-13 04:56 (UTC) - Expand

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