Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Clara always knew that if she initiated an actual relationship with the Doctor, the sex would be… interesting. His lanky awkward frame would tangle up in everything; limbs curling around or poking about, or generally ending up in a mess she'd have to straighten out with a laugh and a calm set of palms to his chest and a gentle, "Slow down, Doctor."
And that's exactly how it was for the first ten minutes.
Every. Single. Time.
Like a child given an oversized dessert with no clue of where to begin eating, the Doctor often stood with a giddy grin, brow raised high, and before she knew it, she was lying underneath him, half-dressed and panting with the effort to match his fervor. And he wasn't lacking, she had discovered. As if a thousand years of travelling the universe over had left him starved and she was that dessert.
Clara gave a shout when he threw his weight over her and landed with a thud at her side in the bed and before she could question him, he'd spread her legs, head diving between them, tongue immediately sending a jolt of pleasure up through her body. Reaching out, she clasped onto his waist, just beside her, wary of the legs shifting near her head.
"Do…" she started, breath leaving her as his chin massaged at a sensitive spot as he lapped at her mercilessly. "Doc…" Clara tried again, her fingers now kneading his left buttock and she felt him shifting slightly, offering himself to her because he thought maybe that was what she wanted. "Doct – ah," she squeaked as his fingers entered the fold, and her own clasped onto him, giving him enough of a squeeze to unlatch from her and turn, worried look on his face.
"Too much?" He questioned.
She laughed, loosening her grip and licking her lips before sitting up and waiting for him to do the same, left leg curling around her backside as his right slid underneath her knees, working to bring himself even closer to her. Clara landed her palms at his shoulders and she watched him run his tongue over his bottom lip, a small smile playing on his face at the taste of her as Clara nodded. "Slow down," she ordered, giggling when he moved forward and immediately began to kiss at her left collar bone and then up her neck to nibble at her earlobe as she breathed heavily into his hair.
"Slow enough," he whispered as she shivered. Then he shifted back and frowned and Clara grimaced because there was a thought in his mind and she wasn't certain she was going to like it. "Am I doing it wrong? All of this time, have I been…"
Laughing, Clara sighed, "No, Doctor… no, you're doing it alright; you're just at a bit of a more hectic pace than I'm quite ready for."
"But am I…" he trailed, "Am I not pleasuring you?"
He stared at her, genuine worry in his eyes and she shook her head, shifting up on her knees and then straddling him, one hand coming between them to guide him to her and she gave him a small kiss, waiting until he was watching her to slip down onto him. Clara released a shuddered breath and dropped her forehead onto his as she slowly adjusted to him, whispering, "You are."
The Doctor released a small whimper of a moan as she began to rock against him, burying his head into her chest, his lips pressing kisses into her skin and she felt his hands drift up her body, rounding each of her breasts so he could bend and bring them to his mouth, working at each equally before he began jerking up into her. Quickening their rhythm and he wrapped an arm around her, leaning forward and then arching over her, flattening her to the bed to erratically continue his strokes.
Clara cried out and he jerked back, pulling himself free, and in an odd twist of his body, he found himself standing at the head of the bed, looking down at her as she opened her eyes and stared up at him, asking, "What… are you doing?"
"Cannonball," he replied with a sly grin.
Eyes going wide, she lifted her palms and yanked her knees up, bringing the sheets with her and sending the Doctor flying backwards in the bed. "Doctor!" she shouted just as his head collided with the wood of the headboard and Clara sat up in shock as she watched the orange glow and yellow sparks of regenerative energy burst from his body as she recoiled.
The change was instant and Clara planted her palms into the sheets as she looked at the older man who lay, stunned, on the other side of the bed. For a moment she was afraid she'd killed him for good, but then he shot up, wild eyes staring into hers just before they drifted over her body curiously and then to his. He'd gone flaccid in the change and the Doctor's hand slapped painfully atop himself in embarrassment just as Clara clutched the sheets to cover her body, feeling the tiniest bit of modesty at being looked over by this new face.
"Did I?" He asked, Scottish voice rough and angry.
Clara nodded slowly.
His hand came up and he slapped at his head and then slammed down on the bed, "And here I thought premature ejaculation would be my biggest worry."
"You can't…" Clara began, looking down at him and then glancing up to meet his gaze as he scoffed.
He looked almost disgusted that she'd insinuate it and almost immediately began to work himself over to prove himself right, satisfied when he began hardening as he spat, "Everything still works, but… I never thought I'd regenerate during sex."
Clara held the sheets tightly to her, but she inched closer to him and looked him over. Still a thin fellow, incredibly pale with little muscle definition. She smiled lightly and let the sheets flutter away as she crawled the distance between them and glanced down as she stopped his fist in mid stroke and plucked his hand away, replacing it with her own. Looking up, she watched his eyes close as he leaned back and took a breath.
"Are you ready to slow it down, Doctor?" Clara asked lightly, playfully, feeling his body reacting positively to her delicate but urging hand.
Head snapping back, he clasped his lips to hers and she had to release him as he bent over her, forcing her back onto the bed. Clara closed her eyes as his mouth travelled over her jaw and she gasped when she felt his fingers slowly slip over her and then inside of her, his thumb working her nub as he continued to suck at her neck. She pressed her palms into his shoulders and she felt his hand slide away, replaced by his manhood, dropping lazily into her and as he began to roll against her, smooth and measured, Clara felt herself building up around him.
She clawed lightly at his back as his thrusts began to deepen, but never gained speed, or shifted. Almost tactful and knowing. He chuckled against her ear as he felt her tighten and when she gasped loudly, knees gripping into his sides as she continued to breathe heavily into his shoulder, he stroked her face and assured, "Won't be a problem again, Clara."