Rating: T

Word Count: 2,476

Summary: The Doctor was off to sketch and discovered his new favourite muse, Clara the English Goddess.

Notes: So this is based on one of my personal favourites from Ladysigh's edits on tumblr. It's not the newest, but for some reason I was looking at it on my dash today and was inspired to write this! Go check out the photo on ladysigh's Tumblr page.

The Doctor hadn't meant to snoop on Clara. He was walking by her room on the TARDIS, about to go sketch some of the flowers he found in the garden, and heard her humming a beautiful tune.

He'd always liked her voice, even though it was funny and a little bit squeaky, the way she spoke so quickly had always intrigued him. Her mouth kept up with his when they ran them off at each other, something that happened quite often recently. He'd gotten a bit grumpy as he got older, but he never lost that childish wonder about him, which was why he was currently staring at the woman in front of him.

She wasn't wearing much clothing; a short, flowy silk robe, rose in colour and floral by design. Her hair was tied up in a neat, loose bun, and she didn't even wear a stitch of makeup. His Clara, she was absolutely beautiful.

In the most delicate of ways, the woman rose her leg, bent at the knee, to rest on the stool near her vanity. She squirted something from a bottle onto her hand and spread it over her skin while she hummed.

He'd seen her in gowns before, attending royal balls, dressed up in the traditional dress of some distant planet. But the Doctor swore that he'd never seen her look more beautiful in his life.

Her olive skin seemed to glow in the light of the dim lamp by her side casting shadows onto the wall. The angles of her face were softened, and the angle of her leg hardened by the serene scene created by the lamp.

The Doctor nearly gave himself away when she untied the robe and let it fall to the ground. She stood in front of her mirror stark naked, fixing the bun atop her head. Clara had to be the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Her body was clean, devoid of a single strand of hair except for the dark locks on her head. She reminded him of the Roman goddess Venus from William Bouguereau's famed painting by her shapely figure and soft lines. His hands gripped his sketchbook as he itched to draw her, inspiration flowing freely because of the striking woman before him.

And before he could move, she was looking his way.

"Doctor!" She yelled, dropping to the floor to retrieve her robe. She pulled it over her shoulders and tied it again, her cheeks flushing pink.

His hand was covering his eyes as soon as she stalked towards him, but he was unsurprised by the stinging slap that followed.

"What the hell are you doing? Did no one ever teach you it's rude to watch someone in the nude? Even worse than rude, it's perverted!" Sure, Clara had feelings for the man, she couldn't deny that fact, but it didn't change how embarrassed she felt that he had spied on her. Yes, she wanted him to see her naked eventually, but on her own terms. They'd gotten back from their latest adventure and she felt very unsexy. Bloated from the amount of food they'd eaten, tired from the running. She tried to shave her legs and ended up knicking herself with her razor. Her hair was a disaster and she wasn't even wearing makeup.

"I'm sorry Clara, I'm so sorry. I heard your voice, it was just… and I was going to leave as soon as your dropped your robe but…"

"But what?" She narrowed her eyes, waiting for him. "You better have a damn good excuse."

"But you're just so… beautiful."

Clara's expression softened a touch. She was still upset, but she definitely hadn't expected that response from the Doctor.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean what do I mean?" He rebutted.

Clara rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Why? I just got out of the shower; I was getting ready for bed. No makeup, no clothes, messy hair, how could this be beautiful?"

"I don't know, you just looked… soft… in the light, like…Venus."

"You're telling me I look like a planet?"

"No! No, not the planet, the woman."

Clara frowned. "Venus the Roman goddess of love?"

"Yes! Well, she was the goddess of more than one thing, love, beauty, fertility, prosperity, desire," he coughed, "sex."

Her heart sped up. "Sex. Are you trying to tell me something Doctor?"

"What would I be trying to tell you, that I—NO, no, no, no, not like that Clara, no. Well maybe yes, but—no!" She giggled as the man stammered on his words. "I was on my way to go draw something from the garden, I needed inspiration," he held up the three bloomed peonies in his hand, "but I heard your voice and inspiration hit. There you were before the mirror, Clara my English goddess."

Her cheeks flushed pink, and she felt her tense body loosen. He had good intentions; he was her Doctor, she knew he'd never do anything malicious to hurt her. She walked toward him and gently rubbed the cheek she had slapped earlier. "I'm sorry I hit you."

"You had every right to. I'm sorry I invaded your privacy like that."

"You're forgiven. But next time, just knock, okay?" He nodded and she smiled, leaning up to kiss his red cheek. "So, inspiration, you say?"

"It just… came out of nowhere."

"Alright." She didn't feel beautiful herself in that moment, but the Doctor thought she was, maybe that was enough. He shot her a look, confused by her vagueness, but she took his arm and led her into her room. "Where would you like me to stand?"

The Doctor's hearts were thudding in his chest as he admired the space. The room was painted a golden brown with red accents, glowing in the light of her lamp, almost mimicking sunlight. He swore the TARDIS was doing it on purpose, knowing how he felt about the woman in front of her.

He dropped his supplies onto her vanity and wrung his fingers together nervously. "Um…" Finally, he found the spot with the best light. He took her shoulders and guided her there, letting her stand in place. "Right here."

The Doctor dragged her stool from the vanity to where he had chosen to draw her and smiled as she watched him.

The whole situation had been unexpected, but he felt a calming energy in the silence between them. The energy turned static as he picked up the first flower at the same time as she untied her robe. She felt a touch too sultry as she opened it slowly, letting it slither down her body until she stood bare before him.

"Clara, you don't have to—"

"No, I know, but I want to. You said inspiration, right? Well this is for your inspiration."

Three hearts beat together in unison, nervous and excited. The Doctor gulped and nodded, trying not to look past her neck. "O-okay. Clara, could you turn around for me?"

She waggled her eyebrows at him teasingly, but turned to face the wall. "So, you're more of an ass man then?" Clara wanted to keep the air light.

"A what sorry?" He asked, moving his stool to the perfect angle.

"On Earth, there's this kind of… principle towards women. Either you like their bums more or you like their breasts more, whichever attracts you the most."

"I—I'm not sure I agree with that principle." He told her as he studied her body. "Can you angle yourself more towards the lamp please?" She obliged. "Wonderful, now look towards your vanity… and your arms, um…" The Doctor grasped her wrists and placed them behind her back, lacing her fingers together delicately. He took the peonies, delicately on the stool, and fastened them around her arm, just below each joint so he could get the delicate curve of her shoulder. She was more beautiful than Mother Earth herself, innocent yet sensual, a playful glint of knowledge in her expressive eyes. He sighed, and sat down, ready to get to work.

His pencil scraping against the paper was the only sound in the room aside from their gentle breaths for the entirety of his outlining her shape.

"And why don't you agree with it?"

"Hm?" The Doctor questioned.

"The breasts and bum principle. You said you don't agree, why is that? Some higher thinking Time Lord reason?"

"No. The female body is a delicate wonder. Why would one limit themselves to the breasts or the rear when there are so many beautiful shapes?" The Doctor frowned as he tried to sketch the curve of her hip. His touch was too heavy-handed, and he worried he wasn't doing her body justice. Reaching out, he trailed his fingertips over her skin, but she jumped. "Sorry, sorry, it's okay if you don't want me to touch you."

Clara's body tingled from his touch, but she nodded to him. "It's alright, you can touch me, I was just unaware."

He huffed before standing to reach her shoulder. He pressed down on it softly, whispering in her ear to relax so she didn't get a cramp. Goosebumps erupted over her skin as he trailed over her shoulder blades, memorizing their shape and detail. She closed her eyes trying to stay quiet as he traced her spine and went back to drawing.

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"The touching. I—I don't mind, but is there a reason?"

"Time Lords," the Doctor started, "they have an odd sense of sight. There are so many things running through our brains that touch is like an addition to the sense. We can see detail through our fingertips, it's like… like a psychic energy of sorts."

"I… didn't know that." Her voice rose as he touched the delicate curve of her bum. She bit her lip and concentrated on anything but the pads of his fingers brushing across her bottom with what she was sure to be complete concentration. And then he stood.

He placed the sketchbook on the stool, assessing her angles until they were face to face. She watched him evaluate her body, curiosity in her eyes as he told her not to move her arms.

Clara inhaled, trying not to move as he touched the smallest part of her waist. He acknowledged the way it curved up, connecting with her ribs and the underside of her breast. His face displayed the utmost concentration and wonder as he swiped the pads of his thumbs under her breasts and up along the curves. His eyebrows furrowed as he cupped one gently, stroking his thumb across her nipple.

She almost told him to stop right there, it was getting to be too much for her, but his movement stopped and he looked into her eyes. "Your breasts are quite lovely, Clara." She thought she might pass out.

"Thank you," came out in the quietest of voices. His concentration replaced his awkwardness from before, and she might describe his touch as clinical if it weren't so soft.

"I'd like to draw you from the front some time, if you'd allow me of course." With one last brush to her nipple, his hands were gone and he was seated on the stool again.

She turned her head, the playful glint in her eye back as she nodded. "You would like to draw me like one of your French girls?"

"Sorry?"

"Titanic. The movie, Rose asks Jack to draw her like one of his French girls."

"Oh, well then yes I suppose."

The room went back to it's comfortable silence, the pencil scratched against the paper for a few more minutes, and then he sighed.

"I think I've finished."

Clara let her arms down and smiled, facing him again. "Really? Can I see it?" She unfastened the flowers around her arms and placed them on the floor, picking up her robe and draping it over her shoulders.

"Hold on, finishing touch." The Doctor signed his name on the bottom of the page and she took up a spot behind him. Clara leaned on his shoulder, glancing down at the page on his lap. What she saw left her breathless.

He had drawn her exactly how he said she looked. She looked like a goddess, hair swept up neatly, and wonder in her eyes. Each curve of her body was so soft, and she looked absolutely beautiful.

"Doctor…"

"What is it? It's horrible isn't it, oh god I'm sorry Clara I just wanted to make you look—"

"It's amazing. Is that really how you see me?"

"It's how I always see you. You're so beautiful, so inspiring… you amaze me Clara, and… I love you."

She lifted her head from his shoulder and stared straight ahead. Clara's lips spread into a warm grin.

"Oh, now I've gone and made it weird. I shouldn't have said that—"

"No, it's perfect Doctor." She dropped his sketchbook on her vanity and stood in front of him, eye to eye as he sat on the stool. Taking his hands, Clara blushed and buried her head in his neck. "I love you too, Doctor."

His hearts lifted in happiness. He felt amazing; she made him feel amazing, and he loved her for it. "Clara… Clara can I kiss you?"

Clara pulled away from his neck to look at him. The Doctor looked nervous in asking her the question, shockingly enough. She'd just told him she loved him, of course she wanted to kiss him.

With a nod, she waited, letting him come to her, and she didn't have to wait long because moments later, his lips were on hers. They kissed slowly, lazily exploring the other with timid movements. She stopped him, noses bumping as she pecked him and rested their lips together, not moving, only needing to be near the other.

"I thought I was going to have to hold that in forever." He told her.

"Me too. Oh my god I've fallen in love with an alien."

"Well so have I!

Clara giggled and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his neck. "Whatever are we to do now?"

"Now… well we could always go on one of those humany-datey things."

"Yes, we could, but I'm all adventured out for today, I need sleep."

"Ah, you humans and your adorable need to re-energize. Very well, what do you say about lunch in Paris tomorrow?" He asked her as she pulled away from him.

"I think it sounds wonderful. Now let me finish getting ready for bed and I'll see you tomorrow morning." Clara resumed her position at her vanity as the Doctor headed towards the door.

"It's a date!" He yelled from the door, where he hesitated to leave. "Oh and Clara, I love you."

"I love you too, Doctor."