AN- Takes place some time before The Angels Take Manhattan for both the Doctor and River. They're synced up for once.

Loving the Sunset

Nights with the Doctor were always a peculiar, multifaceted affair. Not peculiar in an unpleasant way, mind you, just... decisively different from any physical relationship she'd experienced prior. When she made love to him, asserting control in their endless dance— the electric ebb and flow of their relationship, the unpredictable oscillations of their relative devotion from one meeting to the next— he was absolutely smitten under her touch, in the sort of charmingly nervous manner she'd expect from a virgin. She knew better, of course. He had— bless his hearts— a bit of a gob in the bedroom at times, carrying on bits of previous conversation when his mouth wasn't otherwise busy. Tales of cosmic misadventure would brush against her ears as delicately as his fingertips tracing circles along the small of her back, tales spun solely for her, his Melody, as she lay atop him, transcribing those precious minutes into soliloquies of unbridled passion.

When he made love to her, however, his entire demeanor shifted. Gone was the inexperience he feigned on the receiving end of physical affection. Gone was the amusing coyness that tinted his soft laughter as they fooled around, two idiots yearning for some tangible reminder of all they held dear. Instead that beautiful man, as reliably as the promise of sunset, would focus all his lifetimes on her as if she were the starlight he'd set off from Gallifrey to embrace all along. He'd rock his hips against hers at an insufferably languid pace that sent shivers racing across her skin, a far cry from the unhinged hyperactivity he exhibited piloting the TARDIS or waltzing into danger. His hands roved the dips and curves of her body with an astonishing fluency, moving to cup her breast as he pressed his lips to hers and whispered his name against her tongue.

And then she'd come with a wave of ecstasy that could rival the extinguishing of a dying sun, the universe that held her soul in his hearts falling to the same entropic decay not long after.

Mornings with the Doctor, on the other hand, were never a reality. She was long used to falling asleep with his unclothed body pressed flush to hers, an arm wrapped around her waist, and then hours later waking up alone. It was an expected pattern by now. He'd slip out from under the covers while she slumbered and tiptoe away to do god knows what. Wander the TARDIS, perform redundant repairs, nip outside for a few adventures, she could only guess. Outside their nights, that hopeless man simply had no sense of inaction. He couldn't just lay, he had to be doing something or else he went mad.

River understood. She... deep down, she knew she ought not press any expectations on a relationship that was neither linear or human in nature. He was a Time Lord. On technicality, though she'd been raised like a human, so was she. The universe didn't hold a precedent for a relationship like theirs. Still, she couldn't help but feel hurt each time she awoke and greeted the empty space in their bed.

On the roughest mornings, she often wondered why he even bothered with her. She'd once tried to kill him, for god's sake! Why on earth would he forgive and trust such a woman in the most intimate way after what she'd done? Loving the Doctor, it was like loving the stars themselves. One doesn't expect a sunset or a sprawling nebula to admire you back. And sure, she knew his name, every hidden sensitive spot where his breath would hitch upon stimulation, he'd shared stories of his childhood, of days he hadn't talked about in centuries... but she still couldn't help but fear they were destined to always stand incompatible in the precise depth of their feelings for each other. She was the woman who loved the Doctor, this she knew- but one does not expect to hear a being as ancient as him drop a phrase like that in return so casually. He'd never said it, not once, in all the years she'd known him. In fact, he'd never said anything about the state of their relationship.

What was she, to him, exactly? Only a sexual partner? A fling? A lover, his wife? If she never slept with him again, would he notice? Would he care?

She didn't know.

This doubt remained in the back of her mind for a few months, for the duration of her current stay on the TARDIS. So far, this was the longest period of time she'd spent traveling with him nonstop. And of course she cherished every second spent at his side, but she couldn't help but notice the two of them settling into a practiced rhythm: They'd spend a few days knocking about whatever exotic locale they landed at, and eventually they'd return to the TARDIS and whisk themselves into the time vortex all over again. She'd ask to rest, on some of those days he'd follow her to her room, they'd make love, she'd fall into slumber tangled in his arms and she'd wake up from nightmares cold and alone. And the cycle continued.

She didn't deserve anything from the Doctor in the end, but she couldn't deny what her heart wanted, what her heart ached for with a burning fervor every morning she woke to an empty bed. Just once... she wanted to feel his arms wrapped securely around her waist as she rose to consciousness.

Just once.

River gasped as she awoke, curly locks splayed across her pillow, the finer details of her nightmare already receding. It was something about that damned spacesuit, about a tortuous claustrophobia, but as to exactly what...

Her heart nearly leapt into her throat as she realized there was an unknown presence wrapped tight as vines around her, skin to skin, restricting her movement. She struggled in its grip, breath interlacing with abrupt panic as she thrashed her limbs to try and escape.

"River-"

Distantly she acknowledged the presence of her love's voice, but that awareness was overpowered by fight or flight. And goddamnit, River Song was not a woman to give in without giving her assailants one hell of a fight. She jerked her elbow straight back, right into warm flesh. Likely the middle of their chest. The presence behind her made a staccato exclamation of pain and released her, blessedly unwilling to test her any further. She spun around in a panicked fury, her eyes widening when she realized her mistake, when she realized who it obviously was, trying to hold her.

"River," the Doctor whispered, his brow creased in tangible concern, and immediately untangled himself from her to give her space. "River, dear, deep breath. You're breathing far too hard right now, and if you don't slow your respiration, you'll pass out like a light switch. There we are... nice and deep, in and out.

She tugged at fistfuls of thick hair, nerves tingling with equal parts frustration and embarrassment as she steadied her inhale and exhale, easing herself away from the edge of a full out panic attack. Already feeling that shock of adrenaline wearing her out, she flopped to the other side of her pillow, not able to bear his gaze right now. He was ever so predictable; in fact she knew exactly what his face would look like, if she turned. Those big, sad eyes, gawking at her in that mercilessly endearing way. 'What's wrong,' he'd ask, and she could never deny him an answer when he looked at her like that, with so much sincerity. Except now, except when her worries involved him.

Except when she had so much to lose.

River felt the mattress shift as the Doctor lay again behind her, allowing her ample room to calm down but to his credit not entirely shrinking away from this moment of emotional outpouring like he normally had a habit of doing. She slammed her eyes shut, curling into herself.

"Hey," he breathed, brushing a thick blond curl out of her face, tips of his fingers ghosting across her cheek as he did so. "Shhh, it's okay."

I'm here. I'm with you, he thought at her. And she knew it'd been thought because it didn't carry the same resonance spoken words would.

It was enough to startle her out of her near dissociative state. She rolled over towards him, eyes blown wide, as if to confirm in his expression that she'd really heard his voice in her head and she wasn't finally going mad, or anything. Telepathy wasn't a skill she utilized often, truth be told, mostly for lack of experience. Her augmented genetic code allowed her low level contact with other telepathic beings— nowhere near the Doctor's tier of ability, mind you— but as not many species were like them in this manner it had rarely been relevant. As such, 'hearing' his thoughts bounce against her mind in this way was odd, very odd, especially when looking at him, he hadn't moved his mouth at all.

Sorry, she thought back, mostly because she didn't possess the energy to talk vocally right now. I didn't mean to hit you. I didn't know it was you.

It's all right, I'm fine. Shouldn't have spooked you by staying without warning.

You're still-?

Yup. Been here all night.

But you don't usually stay.

His features grew unexpectedly sober at this, gaze shifting from her eyes towards their pillow. His hands continued to thread through her hair as he explained.

I've- I've been hearing all your insecurities. About... well, us. About how I always leave while you sleep. Didn't mean to eavesdrop in on your thoughts, but to be fair you aren't exactly one for subtlety.

Oh god.

You were shouting it, basically, open broadcast to all nearby telepathic minds. I could hear it all the way from the console room.

Oh GOD...

Not your fault. You didn't know.

It's embarrassing!

He shrugged widely, lips pursed. Hey, better a mistake made here in the time vortex than on a planet filled with millions of nosy telepaths to accidentally spill the inner details of our sex life to.

Audible laughter escaped her lips. The light in his eyes briefly returned at the sound. She nuzzled her head against his neck, allowing a content sigh to slip through for the first time that morning. Okay, even I have to admit that would've been kinda funny...

That's the spirit. Ooo, and! Before I forget, I've never gotten around to teaching you any mental safeguards, have I? We should fix that.

We should talk with mouths, is what we should do. I'm afraid I'm getting a headache with all the point and think, Sweetie. Not exactly used to it like you are yet.

"Oh, sorry," he vocalized in audible words, with an apologetic smile. "We can always try later."

"Mmm," she agreed.

"Better?"

She tilt her head and pressed a delicate kiss to the side of his jaw. "Better."

The sheets below rustled as she propped herself up in bed then, the Doctor following her in doing the same. She leaned back against the headboard and stretched out her neck, feeling sore joints grind and pop. When she noticed him silently drinking in the sight of her bare chest with that shy reverence of his, she rolled her eyes and pulled his body flush with hers.

"Oh, come here, you-"

River brought their lips together, pouring all of her hopes and insecurities into this one kiss. Every parcel, every existing memory of her love for him, encapsulated in starlight and delivered from her soul to his. Her love's hands fidgeted for the briefest of moments before falling naturally at her cheek and the back of her head, tangling within her curls. She parted her lips, deepening the kiss, and finally feeling that lost warmth returning to her.

By the time they divided, she took great victory in seeing his normally well maintained quiff all flattened against his forehead, more so than usual. Smirking, she ruffled her fingers through the front of his hair. The Doctor playfully smacked her hands away, mouth curling into a mock pout.

"Oi! It's already mussed enough, thank you very much."

She bit back laughter. "I think you're more particular about your hair than I am, and that's saying something, isn't it?"

Sighing in momentary bliss, she leaned back into his open embrace, lying her head on his chest. A thin, but unquestionably sincere smile brightened his countenance as he ran the tip of his thumb across her brow. It didn't quite reach his eyes, swathed in tones of smokey green and grey and betraying his otherwise youthful appearance. His smiles rarely did. And she knew it wasn't any fault of hers— just that he'd lived a long, hard life and had experienced things that'd chipped away at his spirit— but regardless she couldn't help but feel those same nauseating insecurities swelling up within her once again.

"It's sweet of you, you know," she said, choosing to focus instead on the double thrum of his hearts under her head, "that you're making an effort. I know how hard it is for you to stand still."

"Well, I figure- it's the least I could do to try, after all the years of heartache and trouble and complexity I've brought to your life. I mean, just think! If it weren't for me, you would've actually had a real childhood, with, with parents, and a yard, and texting and after school extracurriculars, and-"

"Shut up, if it weren't for you I would've never existed," she snapped quietly, feeling her anxieties flare up again at how casually he spoke of wishing her life away. "Not me, not really. Not like this. The last thing I need right now is your pity."

Concern fettered his brows once more. "River..."

She shifted, reluctantly escaping his hold to lay across from him, eye to eye. No room to evade her gaze anymore, no room to lie. Summoning the strength to ask what must be known, she inhaled deeply.

"Can I please ask a honest question of you, and-!" she held a finger in front of his lips before they could move, "-before you agree, before you automatically say yes like you do to everything. Can you swear to me that you're telling the truth?"

He stared at her finger, still hovering before his face, a flurry of near unrecognizable emotions filtering through him within nanoseconds. Briefly, River wondered if she'd somehow short circuited him with her request or if he was just dissociating. God, why was emotional honesty so damned difficult for this man to process? Then slowly, soberly, he nodded. Acquiesced his control, agreed to her terms.

"Yes," he said. "Anything you want to know."

She released her breath, perhaps in mild relief, and reached towards this face of his. Her fingers brushed along his jawline and across the ridge of his cheekbone. He remained quiet under her touch for once, waiting for her to speak, imploring her to. A Time Lord, making rare acquaintance with patience.

"Doctor... do you love me? Have you ever loved me?"

The sheer hurt that filtered through that man's expression then, throughout the depths of his soul, was almost enough to wring the budding moisture from her eyes.

"Where is this coming from?" he asked.

"Because I don't know! I genuinely don't, I never know what you're thinking, you know I'm nowhere near your level of telepathy! You," she fought back tears, "you spend your days with me, yes. You kiss me. You show me a universe so beautiful that it rips me apart and pieces me back together every single time, changes the very nature of how I see everything. And then... you leave. Like all of that means nothing! All these months, all these months, Doctor, and you've never spent your nights, not once, not before now."

He listened in solemn silence, to his credit not even daring to let his gaze drift from her. Not now, not at a time like this, even when likely all he desired was to escape, just like he always did when emotional confrontations involved him.

"We never talk," River said, hoarse from the caustic emotion rising up her throat, warm and bitter. "We just flirt, and— and fuck, and we never really say anything, and I don't understand why!"

She clamped her hand over her mouth, stifling a sob, knowing beyond a shadow of doubt that if she were to continue her facade would shatter into fragments beyond repair. Not that it hadn't already, of course. Her little selfish tirade had settled that once and for all. How stupid of her, how utterly foolish, to love a sunset so beautiful and demand it love her back. With a frustrated huff, she buried her face into the pillow, hair fanning out in tangled curls around her.

And so the present stretched on into infinity within the confines of this spaceship, her corridors soaking up the sound of River's stifled sobs. If she were to focus, she'd hear the TARDIS chime in sympathy, heart aching for her child. Eventually, a warm, calloused hand settled upon her bare shoulder, sliding across her skin like the gentle strokes of a fountain pen on parchment.

"I- I'm so sorry," the Doctor said, voice thick. "River, I didn't- it was never my intention to make you feel this way. All this time, I thought... you knew."

She hesitantly lifted her head from the pillow, eyes puffy and rimmed with red. "I don't. You never say it."

The stab of hurt found festering within his features was palpable from her end alone. He leaned closer, hand lifting to cup her cheek.

"I don't say it because those words are insignificant- insignificant - compared to how I feel about you."

Her breath hitched, fresh tears welling up and blurring her vision as she drank in the sight of her love, gazing at her as if she'd hung all the stars in his sky. If she could stop time in her tracks, if she were to possess such a power... she'd want to stay within this moment forever.

"And how's that?" she asked, needing to hear it, those words from his mouth.

His lips pursed, in that familiar way they did whenever he was lost deep in thought. Delicately, his fingers moved from her cheek into her hair, stroking through it in absolute reverence.

"Gallifreyans," he said eventually, "we, we, erm- we have more than one name."

"Yes, I know that."

"There's our chosen names of course, what we choose to be called..."

"Like the Doctor," she said dramatically with a jazzy wave of her fingers, a weak grin teasing at her mouth.

"Yes, yes. That's the one," he replied, and playfully poked the tip of her nose, the soul beyond his eyes twinkling. "Chosen names are like... a promise we make to ourselves, a-and promises can change. I didn't call myself Doctor as a kid, obviously."

"No, I don't believe you did, Thete."

He smiled softly at her reminder of old childhood nicknames, the one she knew from the stories he'd told of growing up in the Houses on Gallifrey. She imagined he hadn't heard this name in reference to him in hundreds of years.

"What I'm trying to say is, our chosen names aren't our only ones. I've mentioned before, remember? I'm sure I have. All Gallifreyans also have a hidden name, one given at birth and unknown to all but oneself. Except," he whispered, lifting a finger to emphasize, "except... to the person they couldn't bear living without. My name, River- my real name. That is my promise to you."

He brushed the thick curls away from her ear, letting his eyelids flicker shut. She felt the warmth of his breath tickling her skin, the delicate brush of his lips, moist with the truth he aimed to sear upon her soul.

And then he willingly gave her his greatest treasure, the word gliding off his tongue like a lilted melody. It was long, impossibly long, and neigh unpronounceable to her ears, and yet paradoxically she knew that if she so desired, she could repeat what she heard like it was always a part of her, nestled within her heart since the very birth of time. She'd heard him say this before of course, a few times when they were caught up in the throes of passion, but she'd never stopped to realize precisely what this meant to him until now. This time, her mind cracked open to the blinding truth, she could finally perceive the raw emotion churning behind the promise of his name like a cosmic maelstrom. Its power was enough to strip the breath entirely from her lungs, rattle her bones, topple her understanding of causality.

"What's mine is yours, Melody Pond," he whispered.

She shuddered, still trying to process the sheer weight of all she just experienced. Capturing his shoulders before he could even dream of drifting away, she crashed her lips upon his, and they fit together like perfection. Like a jigsaw's last piece, like an enigma and her answer, burning through every layer of known time. Panting between kisses, they quickly entangled themselves, her leg hiking over his hip, his hand cupping her ass, bodies pressed flush, their timestreams melding into one for this hallowed moment.

Heat pooled at her core as they rocked against each other, precious seconds ticking into hours ticking into millennia. She peppered kisses along his neck, taking great pleasure in the shuddering gasps she elicited from him as she raked her teeth across smooth skin. Though— wholly distracted by the desires of the flesh— she couldn't recall who, one of them opened a telepathic pathway, allowing echoes of each other's dizzying, raw emotion and stimuli to pass freely between them. What's mine is yours, his words replayed in her head. What's mine is yours.

Thoughts. Mind. Body.

"My dear Melody," her love breathed huskily, and she cried out with his own name in turn, impossible syllables flowing from her as natural as the wind.

With every thrust they drew closer and closer towards the end, towards the singularity at their horizon threatening to engulf them, to split their atoms apart until nothing more of them remained but story and song, the words on the page.

Her mouth opened in a silent scream as she tipped over the edge.

And thus did the Time Lords, with Time herself rendered null in observance, consecrate their love.

AN- I've long had the headcanon that, for Gallifreyans, sharing one's true name was their "I love you." Which is then why the Doctor never said those three words to any lovers, because to him they're void of meaning compared to the other promises he could make.

Favorites/reviews highly appreciated! I've never written for this beautiful couple before- in fact, I've actually never written a single sex scene before- so I'd love to hear what y'all thought. I wanted to approach it a bit differently than I've often seen it, more spoken of in metaphors rather than mechanistically. Thanks for reading!