"A little warning next time is all I'm saying!" Clara snapped pushing through the doors into the TARDIS's control room.
"I said heads up." The Doctor retorted as he followed her through the door hands flailing defensively.
"Yes. Heads up Doctor. Up! As in put your head up to get blasted by alien goo!" She rang slime from her hair.
"No 'heads up' as in duck there's giant bile spraying Laeox behind you." He flipped a switch in exasperation, sending the TARDIS hurdling through space-time.
"Well what's wrong with just saying that?" Clara had stopped in front of him and was staring him down with those huge chestnut eyes, cherry lips pulled into a pout.
He met her gaze with equal stubbornness, listening to the TARDIS wheeze for a long moment before a thick string of alien bile drew his eyes from hers in order to watch it slide sluggishly down her cheek. Her pout deepened into a scowl; then she lifted a delicate hand and wiped it across his face, anointing him with his own gob of ooze.
He blinked owlishly at her as the goo dripped from the tip of his nose, "Better?"
"Much."
Their eyes were locked even harder now as if in challenge, the air around them thrumming tensely.
The Doctor was the first to break the stalemate, his stern face cracking with a burst of laughter. Clara quickly answered with her own amused smile all white teeth and wicked dimples. He felt his hearts quicken. He had lived a thousand years, seen wonders most people couldn't even dream of, met kings and queens and heroes and gods and yet, when he looked at her it all seemed so trivial in comparison.
One thing he had learned quickly about his most recent body was how little control over it he had. With its long gangly limbs and overabundance of energy it was like driving a car without the brakes, and often he felt as if it moved without his express consent. This however, was not one of those times. With a deliberateness he hadn't felt in a long while he slowly reached up his hand to caress Clara's slime smeared cheek.
But Clara was quicker, her own hand flashing up, she flicked her fingers at him and sent another fistfull of guck smattering across his face.
"Oh, oh!" He sputtered stumbling back chin jutting out in exclamation, "I see how it is you cheeky little…" He trailed off attempting to swipe the goo back onto her.
But Clara had already spun away from him laughing. The metal floor vibrated slightly as she danced just out of his reach, stepping until she was safely on the far end of the TARDIS's console. He stopped at the other, braced against the levers, tensed to go after her should she try an escape. That grin of hers was back now, accompanied this time with the crook of one elegant eyebrow, daring - no - demanding him to come and get her. He was powerless to refuse.
His boots slipped slightly on the slick floor as he stalked her. She tried to flee in the opposite direction, but the Doctor's long legs made quick work of the distance. He reached out and grabbed her hand with the intention of pulling her towards him. Her fingers were horribly slippery though, and for a beat he fumbled before tightening his grip, then she was his. He wheeled her around until her bum pressed against the rim of the console, the edges of it she gripped for support. He placed his hands just outside of hers, his body less than an inch from her own.
He could feel his hearts hammering savagely within his chest, his breath coming in ragged bursts and his head going dizzy as the blood made a unanticipated dash from it to his groin. He moved back microscopically, trying to keep her from noticing, but that demure little smirk of hers told him that it had been in vain. Every bit of him yearned to take her right then on the console, slime and all.
It was not the first time he had these urges towards her, but never before had he been at such a risk to act on them. It was frightening and exhilarating, and at that moment he could think of absolutely nothing he wanted more. He leaned forward to kiss her, slowly, unsurely, allowing her to say no but hoping like hell she wouldn't.
At the last moment however something made him hesitate. It was something in those cosmic eyes, behind her flirtatious smiles and bold come ons she was still just so... young and, no, not innocent, but something akin to that, something that made him wish not to burden her with himself. Something enough to make him falter just long enough for the loud decrepit wheezing sound to start up again, indicating that they had reached their destination.
He sighed inwardly as he let her up from the console hoping the conflicting feelings of self loathing and disappointment didn't show too clearly in his face.
Clara straightened herself hastily, the first signs of a blush rising on her soft white cheeks as if she had only just realized what had almost transpired. "Next Wednesday then." She said slightly breathless.
"Yes. Yes! Absolutely, er well, I mean a wednesday, absolutely one of the wednesdays, and I, uh, certainly hope it's the next one." He was trying desperately to sound normal.
"So, next wednesday then." She repeated firmly.
"Yes," he smiled, "next wednesday."
He watched as she made for the door, when she reached it though, she stopped with a laugh and a little shake of her head, she turned back to look at the Doctor.
"I really haven't a clue how I'm going to explain this to the Maitland's." she frowned waving at the slime that was now beginning to crust in her hair,
"You know the TARDIS has a shower, well, actually she has any number of showers and once there was a glitch and she had nothing but showers." Damnit, he chastised himself mentally, he should be rushing her out not inviting her back for a shower.
"That's alright Doctor, knowing the TARDIS she would probably just spray me with more slime. Next wednesday though."
"Yes. Absolutely."
At first the Doctor had tried to apply Clara's wednesdays only rule to himself as well, spending the equivalent of a week flitting restlessly across the universe, looking for the answer to the question that had chafed so insistently at the back of his mind since their second meeting in victorian London: what was Clara Oswald? But with the progression of time he had found himself moving away from his original question to one much more titillating and complex: who was Clara Oswald? And with this change he had found it harder and harder to conform to this agonizing once a week rule. So, to appease his growing need he started shortening his time alone until eventually he found himself jumping directly from one wednesday to the next, allowing for just enough time in between for a change clothes and a shower in order to hide this weakness from Clara. He could hear her voice even now in his head, playfully mocking telling him, "There is such a thing as too keen."
Well, maybe it was the blood still pounding in a distracting fashion through his, er, 'extremity', or perhaps he was just tired of the pretense, but suddenly he was finding it very difficult not run after her. He wanted her so desperately to know the truth, to know that he couldn't leave her, not even for a week, that it actually frightened him a bit. But it didn't change the earlier conundrum, she was still so young and while he had no doubt of her strength he knew the kind of trouble it would cause to take his actions any further, how could he claim to love someone but still be willing to let them suffer so.
He sighed fidgeting with the console, he needed time to cool off and, though the idea physically caused him pain, he knew he was going to need take the week to reestablish control over his feelings before he could trust himself around Clara again. He began flipping controls readying his machine for departure, but as his hand reached for the lever that would send the ship spinning through time and space he found himself hesitating for the second time that day.
He was out the door before he even knew what he was doing. Immediately he was struck by a downpour of rain so cold and driving that by the time he had made the dash down the street to the Maitland's house the water had already penetrated his jacket and was turning his nice cotton button front see-through. He squelched up path to the maitlands house and rapped frantically on the warped glass door only to be answered by silence. He tried the door knob but it was locked, for a moment he considered sonicing it open, however Clara had warned him about the inappropriateness of breaking into friends houses so he went back to hammering with both fists.
"Hello, yes I hear you!" Clara's voice finally sounded from inside, "Alright Doctor, I see you, I'm coming you can stop that. You know it's still this wednesday, you literally just dropped me off like thirty minutes ago so unless this is really important…"
The door swung open. Clara stood before him ablaze with lamp light. Her mahogany hair, damp from washing hung over a shoulder that had been left otherwise bare to the night by an oversized maroon sweater which come to an end just north of halfway down her equally naked thighs. He faltered, all his earlier doubts suddenly returning.
"Are you alright," Clara's look was all wide eyed worry, "you look…"
"Are the Maitlands here?" He asked his voice coming out slightly strained.
"No, they left a note, Mr. Maitlands on business and the kids are at a friends. Really though Doctor has something happened?" Her hand reached up to touch his face comfortingly.
It was anything but comforting though, she might as well have hit him with a live wire for the amount of electricity it sent screaming through his body. It was, however enough to eradicate any final misgivings he may have had. He pressed his lips to hers, carnally forcing her back a step. For a minute she resisted, he could taste her shock on those swollen red lips and for a heart wrenching moment he thought she might push him away, but then with a moist little pop she opened for him, her hand sliding from his face to his hair to tangle aggressively with his damp locks.
He found himself pushing her back against the wall, his hands running across her body with an unsureness attributed to long years of solitude. He finally settled on grabbing her hips to pull her firmly against himself. Feeling his erection pushing into her stomach Clara nipped encouragingly at the Doctor's lower lip. He responded with vigor, turning her so that she now faced the wall, with one hand he pulled up her sweater while the other dipped into the front of her panties.
Clara's breath caught as his fingers came down to find her fever hot and nearly dripping, with his index finger he tickled the edges of her slit until she gasped through lips pressed lustily to the wall. He drew one of his fingers into her, she was satiny and slippery and smooth and it nearly drove him to madness when he felt her muscles contract around him.
He flipped her back around pulling her knickers down to her knees. Clara's fingers worked deftly at the fasteners of his slacks, she pulled his erection free and grasped it gently in her delicate hands, he groaned. If her hand on his face had been a live wire her hand on his cock was like being at the heart of an electrical storm.
She was tugging him now, pulling him towards her. She wrapped one leg around him so that his tip pressed just at her opening. Zealously he thrusted into her, she made a sound halfway between a squeak and gasp. He could feel her breath hot on his cheek but could see nothing for his eyes were squeezed shut with pleasure.
He hadn't expected how good it would feel to be with Clara, it seemed to pass all realms of possibility, her sound in his ear, her sent in his nose, her skin burning him wherever they touched. Nor had he known how fast his body, so long deprived from such contact, would react to the sudden onslaught of stimulus, and by the second thrust he came into her with a strangled groan.
He was immediately struck with shame. He couldn't move, wouldn't open his eyes for fear of what he would find on Clara's face, disgust, amusement, pity? However, when he finally chanced a look all he found was hunger. It was in her eyes, dilated as they were he felt like he could see the entirety of the universe swimming within them, threatening to swallow him into the vacuum of space. She grabbed the lapels of his coat and pulled her lips back to his bringing her lust to life, she kissed him deeply until she had to brake away for air. The Doctor kept her close though, one hand buried in her hair he angled her head so it faced his, so their lips still kept the slightest contact. She tried to reach for his mouth again but his grip was firm and kept her back.
His whisper came out as barely a breath against Clara's tongue, shaking with every syllable, "Oh god," he said, "you're wonderful. You're the wonderfulest woman in all the universe."
This time when Clara reached to kiss him he allowed it letting its passion be all the answer he needed and when she pulled away his eyes were treated to a grin more wicked than anything he had ever before seen. Her hand found his as he tucked himself away and she pulled him towards her bedroom.
Clara's bed protested loudly as they fell onto it. The Doctor could hardly remember getting there having slipped into a sort of daze. He wasn't even completely sure that the entire thing wasn't some indulgent dream. Then Clara pushed him back against the pillow, straddling him between her knees and all at once his world slammed back into focus, pinpointing the spot where Clara was pressed hotly against his naked stomach making him hard all over again.
Slowly awareness began to return to the rest his body, he could feel her knees lightly squeezing his ribcage, her toes curled against either side of his buttox. Her palms were two points of electricity firing where they were pressed against his hearts and forcing them to beat all the harder. For once he held still, all the hyperactive energy that usually drove him to flop about awkwardly was now focused piercingly on the impossible creature mounted atop him. He felt the tickle of her hair on his neck as she leaned down to kiss him. He felt her hand slipping down his chest then stomach then over his trousers, her fingers kneading him lightly. As pleasure lit up his nerves he tensed his muscles beneath her, his mouth stilled against hers. She smiled against his lips.
"Sh-shouldn't I, you know, do something for you now?" He asked breathlessly, pulling back to look her in the face.
"Mmmm, shut up chin boy," her hand was still working over his trousers, "I like seeing you come." She gave him a little squeeze.
The Doctor bucked into her hand. Then her lips were pulling away from his, he tried to follow her mouth but she held him back with one hand as she kissed down his chest, his stomach then came to a stop at his waistline. She undid him one handedly. He lifted his hips obediently as she tugged the damp fabric down to his knees then kicked them off the rest of the way.
Clara's hand gripped him again her fingers pleasantly warm, then he felt her tongue hot against the tip of him and suddenly pleasant didn't even begin to describe the exhilaration he felt, it was as if he was being bathed in flame. He wanted to hold all of her, to feel every inch of her soft skin blazing beneath his hands but had to settle with burying his fingers tightly in her sodden hair.
She licked and sucked at him her breath tickling warmly against the soft blond hairs on his upper thighs every time she took a moment to breathe. She drove him half mad with ecstasy but refused to give him release. Then suddenly Clara's mouth was gone, leaving him with nothing save the throbbing in his groin which was quickly reaching the point of painful. The Doctor fought desperately against the urge to drag her mouth back down to his cock, it took all his willpower to finally unlock his stiff fingers from her hair and allow her to crawl back onto his chest.
When he met her eyes they were as full of fire as her tongue. Her lips curled up at one side, it might have been playful but at that moment it looked nothing but cruel. Though he tried to mask it, he imagined his own face was pallet of rage and desperation. That seemed to please her and she bent down to give him a chaste kiss on the nose which she then moved to his lips.
There he took charge, forcing her mouth open with his own almost viciously. He could taste both of them on her tongue, ambrosial and inflaming. One hand jerked Clara's sweater up to her shoulder blades, the other seized the back of her thigh, sticky where his seed had spilled from inside her.
"Now you're getting it," Clara whispered against his lips. Then just like that she slipped from his grasp.
The Doctor all but lept from the bed after her, his right arm seized about the waist pulling her solidly to him, while his left hand grasped her throat drawing from it a delicate gasp.
"No." He growled lowly into her ear. He could feel her pulse thrashing just beneath the pad of his thumb, the fine hairs at the nape of her neck prickling beneath the raggedness of his breath.
Clara tried to turn in his arms, but rather than let her the doctor picked her off her feet and threw her back onto the bed. She scrambled backwards on her bum and hands until her back was pat against the headboard, a look of uncertainty gracing her features for the first time. Had the Doctor been in his usual mindset that look would have halted him dead in his tracks, but in that soup of testosterone and adrenaline the only thing that could have stopped him would have been a word from Clara and despite her look he knew she didn't want to stop anymore than he did.
Following her onto the bed, he hovered over her, his knees placed at either side of her hips. Roughly he caught the hem of her sweater and yanked it over her head, leaving her deliciously bare. For a short time it was enough just to look at her, her perfection nearly blinding. the skin of her breasts was a flawless shade of ivory. She captured one of his hands in her own and brought it to her chest. The feel of her nipple stiff beneath his palm was more than he could handle, he clasped her thigh in his other hand and dragged her down the bed until she lay prone on her back beneath him.
His eyes bore into her face, he felt his lust for her as strongly as he had ever felt anything. It must have shone clearly on his face, for Clara's look became smug and her hand reached up to gently caress his face. He grabbed it harshly and forced it back down to the bed entwined in his own. His breath hissed through clenched teeth to wash exquisitely across her face.
"Go on then," She strained to whisper in his ear, "hurt me."
He drove into her with those words hot in his ears. From her lips he drew a startled gasp and her free hand shot up to tangle in his hair. He bucked into her again and again until she hissed his name. His hand shot up to smother the word from her lips.
Her eyes met his portraying only the most innocent pleasure. He couldn't force himself to bear witness to such perfection, it seared to the very bone, threatened to burn away all that was him. He ducked his head between her jaw and shoulder to evade her eyes, his teeth he held gritted against her collarbone. His thrusts became quicker and harder as the image of her seemed to transform into to something different, flawless and unattainable. It felt as if the harder he held her the farther from him she became.
Then he felt a shudder rush through Clara's body, coaxing from him a feral groan as she came around him with an intensity that brought him crashing right along with her.
As his breath slowed his mind sunk back to sanity and he was capable of seeing her in truth once more, not flawless, but in her own way perfect and very much attained. He pulled his hand from her ribcage where it had left a solid white print and used it to stroke back a lock of hair that had become slicked to her forehead. When he placed a chaste kiss to her lips he did so to a look warm with admiration, even so he felt an odd sense of guilt as he rolled onto his back.
Beside him Clara shivered at the sudden absence of warmth,"Blimey, it's cold." she cuddled up against him and he instinctively turned to to wrap his arms around her tucking her head beneath his chin. Her heart beat against his chest, her breath tickled his neck. It was a moment of perfection and yet as Clara slowly dozed off against his chest all he could do was worry.