A/N: So it seems that having a multitude of papers in desperate need of writing/editing for my finals has given me even more muse to write not educational things. So have kinky 10/River/11 times. Aka more of 10 being a peeping Tom.

He hated being stuck on the stupid flying hunk of junk. In fact, he despised it, so when the Doctor, in all his pinstripe suited glory, decided to take a walk around the empty hallways of the pleasure cruise starliner, he didn't expect to see anything he could possibly find to hate more.

Until he saw the halo of golden curls.

They were in a corner; the young gentleman she was with was pressed up against the wall, her hands slithering under the flaps of his white tux coat, circling around his back, her lips playing at the flesh just under his ear. He could hear them breathing – quite obscene – and he thought he could hear her murmuring dirty things under her breath.

"Oh River, you bad, bad girl," The young man spoke breathily, headily, in a deep voice, that sounded nigh predatory. The Doctor shuddered.

The last time he had seen River was at Asgard, and the time before that…

The young man seemingly took control, and was suddenly pressing Professor River Song up against the wall, palm flat against the paneling on either side of her head as his lips began to nip and kiss at her collarbone, exposed in the low cut gown she was wearing.

The Doctor heard her moan, moan again, once more, and then, the young man had his knee between her legs and she was sliding up the wall, one of his hands leaving the wall and sliding around the curvature of her waist.

Another breathless moan dripped from her lips, painted a ruby red.

He didn't stay to watch any longer.

The Doctor fisted his hands at his sides. Jealousy didn't suit him. It wasn't as though River was his by any means, and he hardly knew her so it wasn't as though he even had a reason, much less the right, to care about who she…

But, oh! She knew his name, and the memory of her speaking the word, caressing the syllables of his name was sweeter than honey. And despite the lack of right, or reason, he was jealous.

So instead of walking he decided to go looking for the reason the TARDIS had locked onto the Starliner and had refused to take off again.

But that meant passing the spot in the deserted hallway – or not so deserted hallway – where he had watched things between Professor Song and her young gentleman escalate quite quickly if he said so himself, and he did.

So before walking around the corner, he peeked as best as he could, hoping that if he couldn't hear anything, there wouldn't be anything to see either.

He turned out to be wrong.

They were still there; she was still pressed up against the wall, but her legs we wrapped around his waist, the stylistic slit in her dress the only reason that it wasn't torn to pieces on the floor, he was certain, forgive him for thinking it.

Her mouth was open a little, and they were both breathing heavily, but quietly, and he had the feeling that River was quite the rabbit when it came to fornication, and that she must have a preference for young looking men, if she thought of him in the same way as the gent who was currently fucking her against a wall, in a gentle but passionate frenzy. And he was quite sure that she did.

She knew his name after all.

"Oh sweetie," She breathed, just loud enough for him to hear as well.

"Yes honey?" The young gent's voice had lost some of its deep intensity.

"You've grown to be kinky in your old age darling,"

"Have I? Wasn't I always?"

The Doctor felt his hands fisting again, listening to the innuendos, the banter.

"You grow into it,"

"Oh…Oh!" the young man exclaims as if he's just had a revelation.

It's one that the Doctor will have to wait to learn.

It's not that he's jealous, he's just extremely kinky.