Clara poked her head around the door to her room and looked down the corridor. She always had to spend a few seconds working out which direction she had to go in this morning because very often the ship moved her room or those around her in the night. Today though everything looked as though it had stayed the same. Odd. Frowning almost in disappointment Clara left her bedroom and walked the short distance to the console room. There was a planet to see, one made of largely edible elements which had put her in mind of the Gingerbread House story or Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. She couldn't wait to sample trees and rocks and flowers.

She trotted into the console room and was struck by how dark it was.

'Doctor?'

The ship pulse softly around her, the lights still low, but there was hardly any sound above the soft hum of the resting engines. Clara stood by the controls and let her fingers touch one of the levers idly. She looked around the balcony squinting into the darkness.

'Doctor?' she called more loudly.

'Keep it down,' his voice moaned from above her.

'Are you alright?'

'Do I sound alright?' he complained.

Clara followed the sound of his voice and came to stand at the base of the steps below where his leather chair usually sat. The TARDIS obligingly lifted the lights just a fraction and she saw him react badly to it, covering his eyes with a hiss.

'You turn into a vampire overnight?' she teased.

'Oh ha ha,' he grumbled, 'I have a migraine. Today's excursion is off.'

'Oh…' she said somewhat surprised, 'Wait you have a what? Aren't Time Lord's physiologically superior? Didn't think they got things like migraines.'

He peered at her from under the shade of his fingers. 'Once in three hundred years Clara, that's about how often I get them.'

'Well how long does it last?' she said impatiently.

'I don't know… it lasts as long as it lasts. A few hours, a few days.'

She huffed and folded her arms. 'Well have you tried some painkillers?'

The Doctor rolled his eyes and then winced at the movement. 'I'm not a moron Clara of course I have.'

'And what else?'

'What?'

'What other things have you tried?' she moved off towards the ships monitors and started typing.

'Well I was hoping to try peace and quiet,' he said, 'And darkness… but someone turned the lights up.'

Clara ignored him and began reading the screen in front of her.

'Migraine,' she said, 'Specifically migraine in Time Lords, seems your massive brain makes it harder to treat somehow, too much activity in there or something. Well so it says here but it's a Gallifreyan text and you all seem pretty arrogant.'Oo I'm a time lord I can't possibly just have a headache like everyone else,'' she mocked.

'Shut up,' came the command from the balcony.

'Ok so… painkillers…'

''Tried them. Even the strong ones.'

'Darkness, quiet…'

'See above.'

'Cold pack, hot pack, pressure pack…'

'Yes, yes, yes.'

'Tea, caffeine, something sweet?'

'Yes,'

'Massaging pressure points?' she asked.

'Tried it, self shiatsu massage, didn't do a thing.'

Clara ran her eye down the list on the screen, 'Well what's helped in the past?' she said in frustration. She hated him when he was grouchy and unwell. To start with she didn't like to see him unwell but he was also very hard to live with, and now that she was on the TARDIS full time harder to escape when he was moody.

'Nothing I have access to here. Now go away.'

'Some weird Gallifreyan medicine?'

'No.'

'But something must have worked?'

'Yes,' he snapped back.

'Ok no need to be so grumpy I'm just trying to….' Clara's eyes stopped at the bottom of the list and widened a little. 'Oh,' she muttered.

'What?' he asked sarcastically, 'Have you found a cure?'

'Apparently…' she said a little uncertainly. Ok so this was where it got awkward. She'd been on the TARDIS three months and she had to admit things between them had changed. Changed for the better too she thought but it was a slow business, a slow change, mapped cautiously and carefully. Naturally they spent more time together and equally naturally some of that wasn't spent adventuring but rather at home, so to speak, on an almost domestic level. Eating together or reading or…

… or kissing on the sofa. There had been kissing. Just recently. And it was slow and careful like everything else but both of them had enjoyed it she was fairly sure of that because a few days after the kissing there had had been some touching. Nothing too intimate, just a little fumbling and undoing of mutual buttons, some moaning, but they were definitely traveling in a particular direction.

Clara looked at the screen.

Orgasm.

And at the small print beneath it. Something to do with blood pressure and his strange circulatory system and endorphins but then her eyes tracked back to the first word which seemed to pop out at her insistently.

Orgasm.

She chewed her lip and glanced up at the balcony where he was sitting with his hand still over his eyes and his jaw clenched. He looked even paler than usual and sat uncomfortably in the chair as though he was scared to move and exacerbate the pain.

'If it's worked before why don't you just…' she started.

He dropped his hand and glared at her then his eyes moved to the screen behind her and his angry glower intensified further as it returned to her.

'For goodness sake! As you can see Clara I'm not exactly in the mood,' he sniped.

'You don't have to be in the mood exactly just… you know… do it quickly and you'll feel better.'

'That's all very well Clara but a) all that movement and effort sounds like agony to me and b) I do have to be somewhat in the mood to… get started.'

'Oh.'

'Oh,' he echoed covering his eyes again, 'Now shut up and let me sit quietly.'

Clara folded her arms again and stared at the screen in irritation both with it and him. He could be so stubborn. If he was really in that much discomfort he should just get on with it if he knew it would help. She tapped her foot and shot him a look and then relented a bit. She supposed it was a bit embarrassing for him and if he did feel that sore it would be hard to get things going. She wondered briefly how Time Lord anatomy worked, was it different? She looked at the screen as though it might give her some clues, which if she was honest it might if the TARDIS picked up on her thoughts at all. If she could be certain of what she was doing then maybe she could…

… oh my God was she really thinking that. A little bit of petting aside they weren't at that stage yet. Or were they? It was a natural next step from his hands slipping under her shirt and her straddling his lap which was more or less where they left off last time. She had felt it, there between her thighs she just hadn't touched it.

But to make that step when he was ill? Would that be the right thing to do? The likelihood was if she went up those steps he'd growl at her and tell her to get lost. He was quite literally a bear with a sore head right now.

Clara turned the monitor off and sighed. Fine let him stew, she could occupy herself for a day or so while he got better. And she was just about to leave when she heard him whimper. Just the tiniest little noise of discomfort, clearly unintentional. She looked up at him and saw him drop his hand to the armrest, his brows knitted in pain. He exhaled again, his breath shaky and tried to draw a more controlled breath but ended up biting down on his lip and emitting another little squeak.

He was really sore. And really stubborn. And an idiot.

Clara marched up the steps and stood in front of him.

'You're an idiot,' she said.

'Go away,'

'You don't have to be in pain, there are options you know,' she said in her best and firmest teacher tones.

'I've already said I don't feel up to doing that…' he moaned in a mixture of pain and awkwardness.

'What if I do it?'

Clara surprised even herself but the look on his face was priceless. His eyes popped open and he gaped at her for a second, almost forming words but not quiet before he seemed to totally dismiss the idea and covered his face again.

'No,' he said, after all that.

Clara held her hands out poised and wriggled her fingers a little. It looked a bit silly, preparing herself like that for her next move. She took a deep breath.

'What if I insist?' she said.

'You wouldn't.'

'Wouldn't I? It's not like I haven't thought about doing it, I mean…. Soon…. This is just… bringing it forward, rescheduling… plus it helps you… soo…'

He peered at her between his fingers. It was a standoff.

'So I'm doing it,' she said suddenly and stepped forward, dropping smoothly to her knees between his legs and parting his thighs.

'Clara!' he yelped.

'Shut up.'

She ran her hands the lengths of his thighs and felt a slight tremble in his muscles. When she glanced up at him he had lowered his hand from his face again and was watching her with curiosity. He did look pale, and perhaps a little more drawn and tired than usual, but his eyes were sharp, pupils big in the dim light. She saw him swallow.

'What are you…. Going to do?' he asked softly.

'What would you like?'

He opened his mouth and then appeared to lose confidence, dropping his gaze. Clara smiled a little in triumph and pushed her hands up to his belt, her nimble little fingers unclasping the buckle quickly and drawing it apart. She found the button of his trousers beneath and flicked it open before running her palm slowly down the fly. There was a tiny pause and then she felt something shift under her hand, a distinctive twitch of flesh. She pushed against it harder and heard a different little noise come from his throat. It was less pained.

Clara tugged the zipper down, a sound that always lent itself to a thrill, and then slipped one hand under the dark material.

'Clara,' his hand suddenly clasping her wrist, pulling it up to his belly and away from her goal. She looked up, noted the change in his expression, arousal mixed with uncertainty.

'I want to,' she said simply. His lips twitched in a hesitant smile and then it was gone again just as fast.

'So do I.,' he breathed, voice hoarse, 'But…'

'No… no but…' she laced her fingers through the buttons of his shirt and touched the soft skin on his stomach. She popped the fastenings open and lent forward, her lips pressing just above his belly button. The Doctor leaned back, his eyes closing a fraction and she lowered her aim, let her mouth trace down over the sparse hair which led to the belt of his trousers and the thicker hair below. His body shifted a little under her gentle touch and she opened his shirt wider, pushed the edges of his unzipped trousers aside, leaving her with an expanse of naked skin to wend her way over with tongue and lips.

Finally he seemed to sink back into the chair fully and she felt the tension go out of his thighs. Clara replaced her hand at his zipper and felt along the length of him, pushing inside the clothing before her eyes widened with surprise.

'Doctor,' she teased, 'No underwear?'

'Never do…' he said quietly. Clara looked up at him with a half smile on her lips about to retort with something witty or full of cheek but then she caught the image above her and with it her breath in her throat. He was leaning against the back of the chair, eyes shut, shirt open, breath coming a little faster than usual through parted lips. His brows were furrowed in a mixture of concentration and residual pain and his hair mussed. She swallowed at the sight, her mouth suddenly wet and heat pooling between her legs. Her hand wrapped around him and sprung him free of his clothing.

She heard him take a sharp breath and looked down at her prize. He was a good size and thickness, growing now to his full length under her touch, the occasional twitch of his ligaments moving him in her grasp. His skin was silken soft and rippled easily under her caress and she experimentally stroked him a few times gently and then with more pressure. He let out a little moan above her and then seemed to cut off the noise in embarrassment, turning his head slightly and resuming his position of face covered. There was something rather sweet about him like that but something about it too that made her want to pleasure him to the point where he couldn't bite down and control each groan. She realised suddenly that she wanted to make him fall apart.

She ran her thumb over his tip and pumped him more steadily, alternating between watching him try to hide his expression and bending to nuzzle at his stomach and the pubic hair above his member. She took his skin between her teeth and nipped gently and was delighted to feel him jerk slightly in response. Clara snuck her free hand deeper into his trousers and felt for his balls and the area behind them, letting her fingers move lightly over him at first before applying pressure. The groan that came from him then was deeper and he failed to cut it off. She unapologetically watched him as he shifted in the chair, his hips pushing towards her of their own accord. He still averted his gaze but his free hand now gripped the arm of the chair desperately, clutching and releasing at times, tensing the length of his arm as he tried to control his urges.

They had been a long time getting to this point in their relationship, she realised, and he had been a long time alone. It was unsurprising that he was starting to come to pieces in front of her and that his body was responding so quickly. She felt a stab of pride and a resolve to carry on, his release her only goal despite the growing need in her own body as she listened to him and breathed in the scent of his skin. She continued to rub along his dampening length and watched as the fingers of his right hand spasmed at his temples. He was still in pain, and it only made her more determined.

Clara leaned forward again and let her tongue trail from the base of him to the spot beneath the tip, holding him there with one hand as she pleasured the little area. He almost came off the seat at the sudden change of sensation and let out a low grunt, both hands coming to grip the arms of the chair now and his body bracing itself against the back. Clara's eyes were closed as she slipped her mouth over him and sucked, setting up and flowing rhythm with her tongue and lips, accentuating it with her hands as the moisture flowed from her mouth over him and lubricated his pleasure. He suddenly let out an untempered cry, ending it with her name, his breath now ragged. He was deeply aroused and closing in on orgasm but there was still something in his tone which begged for something more. Clara snaked one arm up his chest and felt him suddenly grab it, pressing it to his hearts which hammered under her fingertips. Again he let out a desperate little gasp as her mouth plunged back down and took him in. He left her, palm flat against him and her fingers toying with the hair on his chest to tangle his own hand in her hair, his instinct urging her head down further, fingertips pressing gently into her scalp and his voice emerging in whispered pants, pleading with her to touch him just there, just a little more, deeper, harder, just a little faster.

She followed his instruction and added moves of her own as she felt him begin to thrust up under her, his body taking control now even as he tried to maintain some form of control. But he was losing, his back arching out from the armchair and his head hard against the headrest, eyes shut, neck muscles straining. Clara glanced up briefly from him and felt a rich furl of arousal at the sight, tempting her almost to reach down and touch herself as she worked on him but she resisted, squeezing her legs hard together as she used both of her hands on him, working her hips unconsciously as she knelt between his knees to create some form of friction. He was beautiful, lifting one hand to run his fingers through his hair roughly, grabbing it in a handful and tugging against the tension in his own body, he growled deeply and a series of noises fell from him as he braced himself suddenly in the chair.

'Clara…. You need to stop…. Clara… Oh…'

He thrust again into her lips and she could taste him, leaking into her mouth, the familiar but yet alien sweet tang of him nearing climax. She pressed her tongue against his slit and sucked hard, drinking from him and rubbing against the underside of his tip. She heard him shout above her and leaned into his hips to stop him from thrusting too hard while she worked on this last few moments of his pleasure.

'Gods… Clara... please… I'm ….it's coming…'

He was trying to warn her, give her the chance to pull away, but there was nothing more she wanted to do than feel him spill into her mouth, hear him call out and feel him shudder against her knowing she had achieved her aim, made him come apart, given him what he needed. His hand back in her hair and he seemed to have realised she wasn't stopping now as he ground against her, his body betraying him as it jerked uncontrollably, nearing the point of no return, words leaving him, replaced only by the tumult of his breathing and a desperate keening as he panted, reaching his release, reaching it as her tongue pressed hard against him and her hands found the right spots, reaching it with a hard thrust and a cry which shot through her in pure pleasure.

He was coming into her mouth, the first rapid spurts hitting her tongue with a bittersweet taste, then slowing as she swallowed, sucked, kissed him clean and let go of him. He collapsed back into the chair in a state of disarray, clothes unfastened, chest heaving, a sheen of sweat on his face and his hair unruly and damp in places.

Clara grinned and pressed down on his thighs, lifting herself up and then positioning herself so she could sit on his lap as he recovered. She felt one arm come around her back and pull her to him, head on his chest as his heartbeats slowed. His breathing came back to normal as he burrowed his nose into her hair.

After a few minutes she couldn't resist asking him, 'Feeling any better?'

She could feel him smile against her, 'As a cure it never fails, the pain is gone.'

'Good,' she grinned.

'Don't be so smug.'

'Clara sat up suddenly and batted him across the chest, 'Don't be so smug?' she cried, 'I just cured your migraine I deserve some credit here or… or…'

'A reward?' he queried quietly and she quickly became aware of a certain twinkle to his eyes.

'A reward,' she said pretending to consider as his hand moved up her thigh and slipped just under the edge of her skirt, 'Hmm… what did you have in mind?'

'I'm sure I could come up with something… appropriate…' he said, his face now nuzzling at her neck, his lips on her skin muffling his reply. Clara stiffened and he pulled back looking at her curiously, 'What is it?' he asked almost concerned.

But he caught the merriment in her eyes even as she tried to wind him up with her answer.

'I have a headache,' she said.