A spark ignites in Clara's eyes and her lip curls up at one side, an eyebrow raised in a wicked manner. She places a finger on his chest and guides him through the bedroom doorway, kicking the door shut behind them. He lets his knees give way as she pushes him down into the bed with the slightest pressure of her finger, collapsing into a disarray of sheets. Straddling him, she tugs his bow-tie loose and nimbly works at the buttons of his shirt as he places one hand on her thigh and the other on the side of her face, finding her lips. For a moment they're stationary like that, her fingers gripping his shirt, lips locked.
He reaches for the hem of her blouse, his fingers cool against the skin of her stomach. They break apart as he slides it over her head, throwing it off to the side of the bed. Her hair sweeps over his face, and the familiar, sweet scent charges his nerves and fuels his desire. She can definitely feel him beneath her now and his hands hasten to her breasts, massaging them as she undoes the last button on his shirt. He reaches behind her, skillfully undoing the clasp of her bra, and she lets it slide down her arms. Standing for a moment, she lets it drop to the floor as the Doctor removes his shirt the rest of the way and slides to the center of the bed. She climbs up next to him and he suddenly rolls on top of her, taking her by surprise, parting her lips with his, his tongue hot in her mouth; one hand desperately cups the side of her face, fingers tangling in her hair; he knows how much she loves this little gesture. Her fingers dance through his locks, gently pulling and tugging. Thrusting her hips against his, she runs her hands over his surprisingly muscular chest, hot skin meeting hot skin. Reaching down, she releases the button and zipper of his straining trousers and tugs down on them. The Doctor kicks them off the rest of the way, and Clara takes the opportunity to roll over on top of him, kissing him hard on the mouth. His hands run through her long locks, which are now slightly damp at the temples with sweat. He hooks his thumbs in the waist of her skirt and slides it down, grabbing hold of her ass as she shimmies the skirt down her legs and off. She trails her hand across his chest and down his stomach, and slowly runs a finger along the inside of his boxer-briefs, feeling his skin react to her touch. Slowly, tormentingly, she runs her hand further down, a deep groan escaping the Doctor's mouth. Clara pulls down on the elastic, releasing him, and he kicks his undergarments into the sheets.
Grabbing a hold of her waist, he lowers himself down to nibble at her breasts. He takes one nipple into his mouth sucking hard, and a faint moan comes from her throat. Her hands pull at his hair, almost reflexively. Trailing his mouth down her stomach, planting kisses along her abdomen, he reaches her panties. Using his teeth and fingers, he slowly pulls down on them, his breathe hot on her sensitive skin. He pulls them down to her knees and she kicks them off the rest of the way.
Clara rolls herself on top again; she has ultimate control, and executes it with a ferocity that can never fail to surprise the Doctor. She strokes his length in a slow, deliberate rhythm, while leaving marks scattered about his neck and collarbone with her lips and teeth. She's teasing him and he knows it. He can feel his impending climax tugging at the edges of all of his senses, and in one fluid movement he rolls the two over on the sea of sheets, so that he's on top, arms on either side of her. He plants a deep kiss on her mouth, then trails his lips lightly down down the pale skin of her neck, to her breasts, sucking playfully at them while he slowly runs his hand down her side, his fingertips tracing her hip bone as lightly as he can. Goosebumps form in the wake of his fingers, and a soft, drawn out moan escapes Clara's mouth, her eyes fluttering as he makes his way to her inner thigh. Now he's the one being a tease. This always gets her and he knows it full well. He runs his finger into her folds at a steady pace. Her breathing is quicker; deeper. With little effort his fingers find her clit and with the slightest, most deliberate pressure, her body shifts and a loud moan escapes her throat. She presses her lips hard against his, and he bites at her bottom lip. Reaching down, she wraps her hand around his cock and guides him to her. He lowers himself in; his hips set a slow pace at first which progressively gains momentum. The duet of their labored breathing crescendos. His hand wanders to the sensitive area right above where he's entered her, and with the smallest pressure she lets out a loud groan, finishing slightly before he thrusts his head back and a gruff moan escapes his mouth. He collapses next to her, and they're facing one another. She plants a small kiss on his mouth, and curls into his chest. Lips grazing her temple, he pushes a damp strand of hair from her face and pulls her closer.