A/N: This is a sequel to Naked As We Came. The Doctor and Clara wake up with a terrible hangover after their drinking night, completely naked due to their strip poker game. Smut with a plot.
Clara woke up feeling like she had just regenerated into death herself.
She lacked the energy or the willingness to move. Not just because the bare idea of shifting from her position brought a pounding to her head, a hammer that wouldn't go away until she settled on lying there for the rest of her life, but because the mattress underneath her felt like the softest surface she had ever lied upon.
Even if gently rose and gently fell, like the colorful swing of a child who was too afraid to let themselves be carried by the laws of inertia and sway away.
Except that the thought of a swing spinning made her sick to her stomach.
Expect that she then realized it wasn't a swing. Nor some sort of fluctuating mattress.
It was a living breathing human being.
Or perhaps, a living breathing Time Lord.
The notion made her drop to the floor, landing hard on her spine and making her headache worse then before. Fuck. Her state of undress didn't ease her worries at all. What the fuck had happened the previous night?
Her loud impact against the floor woke him up – or was it the sudden absence of her wasted body passed out atop of his? – and his eyes shot wild. Larger than her already startled ones, were that possible. He blinked several times to stop the room from spinning around him, which he soon realized wasn't the doing of the room, but of his own non-function brain. What the heck had happened the previous night?
His head dropped to his side and came across the figure of his companion lying in the same state as his. And at the sight, not even his sore throat could stop him from screaming from the top of his lungs.
Clara somehow managed to facepalm him several times to stop the most disturbing sound from echoing around her. "Stop! You're too loud!"
Although his lips were frozen open, his desperate yells gradually disappeared into thin air. He could even see the relief taking over all of her face. "Clara…?"
She threw both her arms against her ears, "Gosh, hasn't anybody ever in your life taught you how to speak low?"
"Well, I am loud," he protested, speaking still in the same tone as before. Not to provoke her, but he didn't know how not to. "And you know what, I get to be loud. Clara, you're… you're…"
She rolled her eyes until they reached the back of her head, disappointed however that the back of her head sent them back to normal. "I believe naked is the word you're looking for."
She turned on her back to him, hoping that the vanishing of him from her vision field would consequently make him disappear from existence. And the silence hanging around her made her believe the universe was granting her her wish.
But only because the Doctor had busied himself counting all the vertebras of her spine. The angle she had bent herself into allowed her spine to flourish against her skin, yearning to break free. For a moment, he wanted to touch all of them and help them find their way into the comfort of her skeleton.
"Doctor?" she called for him, speaking with a somehow creeped voice, "Why are you massaging my spine?!"
Her question brought his attention back to his sneaky off hands that somehow were caressing her human skin without his knowledge. He swallowed hard – drinking really made his brain slow in the morning after, "I don't know. I don't think I have control over my body anymore."
He still refused to remove his hand from her, and the simple contact was sending chills down her spine; she was on edge of shivering beneath his touch. She fooled her unconscious behavior by scoffing, "Still want to play the I can't get drunk card?"
"Nope," he concurred, slowly pushing his body into a seating manner. His new position allowed a better view of her; arms being used as pillow, eyes tightly closed, boobs being squeezed between her forearms, knees almost touching her belly. "The only card I'm playing right now is the why I am naked card."
She almost choked at the sound of his words; the fact that they were both standing only in their underwear kept slipping out of her mind. His hand had finally let go of her and for some weird reason she missed it being there. "I vaguely remember someone suggesting strip poker."
He chuckled at the idea, getting a frown from her that he didn't see, "And clearly we both suck at it, since we're both naked."
Inevitably, she giggled at his speculation. The urge to stare into his ocean eyes forced her to build her way up, so her eyes could nearly meet the same height as his. "Clearly we are."
He thought he was trespassing her privacy by looking directly at her clothesless body, but when she glared at him like her equal, the Doctor lowered his defenses. "I wish I had a mirror on me right now, so you could see the disaster that your hair is."
Unconsciously, she tried to comb it with her fingers, but gave up when she failed to untangle any of the knots formed there. She shuddered, "Guess I'll just shave it off."
He cross legged his lower limbs, close to his hips. Sitting there, almost completely naked next to her, was the most at ease he had been in a very long time. "Personally, I think you're look great bald."
Clara wanted to loudly and innocently laugh at him, but the condition of her body didn't allow her too. "God, I feel like death.
Smirking with his eyes, the Doctor had an idea that would never cross his mind. Until then. "Know what's the best medicine for a hangover?"
"I don't know if I trust a first time hungover to tell me how to cure hangover," she teased, although she was obviously listening to him.
The Doctor leaned closer to her, his mouth so near her ear she could feel his warm breath tickling the hair at the nape of her neck. His voice was hoarse and raspy, "Oxytocin."
She couldn't help but quiver at the tone of his implication. Her breath suddenly turned hollow and sharp; her lips left a hole between one another, mimicking the very similar gap between her hidden labia; her pupils dilated and she could no longer find focus on anything. Anything but the alien man hovering over her. "And how you intend to get me some oxytocin?"
She spoke so low she doubted any sound had actually escaped her throat. But he had heard her perfectly. This time, his wet lips did touch the sensitive skin of her ear nodule. "Allow me to show you."
He couldn't tell whether her head was nodding or trembling, but he knew she had consented. The way she was involuntarily clutching her fists and how fast her breathing pattern was didn't leave room for any doubt. Her approval was all that took him to face her, eye to eye.
The Doctor caught her by surprise when he smacked his lips onto hers; she immediately opened her mouth to him. She was unwarily sitting on his lap as his tongue devoured her. Tasting each corner of her palate, rubbing itself against the back of her teeth, battling against her own for power.
And for the first time in her life, Clara allowed him to completely control her. She was at his mercy.
He bit her lower lip, like exploring her mouth wasn't already enough; he needed more. Not harshly, not painfully, just with the purpose of teasing her. To turn her on. From the way she was digging her nails onto the skin of his neck and pulling him even closer to her, he knew he was succeeding.
When his tongue departed from her, it pathed a trace of saliva to the crook of her neck. He clung his teeth onto her collar bone and sucked hard. So hard she was sure it would leave a mark, but neither of them seemed to care. They were too drunk on one another to think of anything else that moment.
His hands worked on her bra until she was free of it. He leaned back and anchored her back against the beanbag – which was the least acceptable place to fucking but there would be no time to get themselves to a proper surface. His eyes fixed to the alluring pink of her tits and he couldn't move.
Clara dunked herself into the plastic of the bean, expecting him to step out of his daze and take some more action, but he appeared to be uncapable of so. "Doctor…?"
He knew she was calling him, but he didn't have it in him to turn his glare away. Not even the growing lump between his legs seemed to hurry him. "I could write a whole novel about your breasts, Clara."
She couldn't explain why the sound of his voice suddenly appealed to her so intensively. "Thanks, I guess…?"
Unexpectedly, he opened her legs by sinking his torso between them. Both his thumbs started to circle around her nipples, hardening them like a mountain top. "They're very alluring, Clara. One could easily lose themselves while staring at them. Their curves mime the curve of your smile. The nipples remind me of stars, like the universe purposefully placed them there as a promise. A promise of lighting whoever comes near it. And they invite you to join their light, to bless you with a little bit of stardust by their contact with your mouth."
Even if she could hear him speak like that for the rest of eternity, she doubted her needs would last for so long. "Doctor, care for a little of stardust?"
He didn't have to be asked twice to crave his teeth around one of them. He played with them with his tongue, getting graceful groans to escape her lips. Sucking and biting and tickling; everything in order to driver her insane.
Not ending the bond between mouth and breast, he used his hands to slide her underwear down her legs. Two of his fingers rubbed her entrance and fuck, she was so wet. Her hip kept coming forward, trying to get herself any sort of friction, but he held her in place, simply caressing her labium as gentle as he knew how to be.
It surely felt like torture to her, because she started to push his head down, silently begging him to serve her most private area. As obedient as he was to her, he followed her comments, descending on her belly with moist kisses until he reached her most sensitive spot. Her clit was thumbing according to her sped-up heartbeat, imploring him to consume it like some sort of animal that had no self-control.
His tongue licked her entrance, tasting the sweet aroma of her. In a matter of seconds, he swallowed her clit, getting the most delighting moan from her. Whilst his mouth enticed her towards her orgasm, he penetrated her with two fingers, surprised at how lubricated her inner walls already were. She trapped his head between her knees and he knew; she was commanding him go harder, harder, harder.
Her hips started to rock and there was no stopping them. Her breathing could be heard from miles away and her fingers pressed hard to his scalp, trying to force even further friction between her clitoris and his teeth. She only let go of him when she came, warming his fingers with her girly cum. He held her shaking and trembling, still offering her slow rubs.
He found his way back to her head and placed his index at her half departed lips, bringing the taste and smell of herself to her. He entrancingly invaded her mouth and to his surprised, she started to suck. Feeding herself on her own taste.
"Fuck, Clara," he cried, her simple action making him weak to his knees. Clara's hands found the way to his briefs and grabbed his manhood from above the fabric. Cupping it a couple of times, until she got rid of his underwear as well. And god, did she feel divine touching his shaft.
She gave him prolonged strokes, testing how long he would be able to hold himself back. And he did try his best, but the temptation spoke too loudly, and he needed to be inside of her. Luckily, he didn't have to wait too long, as she demanded, "Fuck me, Doctor."
That was all he need to adjust himself against her slit. Her wet pulsing slit. At first, he only thrusted the head of his penis, obliging Clara to wrap her legs around his waistband and send him in full motion all the way inside of her.
And for the first time, their bodies became one only.
The Doctor pounded into her slowly and hesitantly at first. Their mouths crashed together as their hips danced in the same rhythm. He gradually built up his speed and thrusted her roughly, incessantly. Her hand carefully dipped between his butt cheeks, being caught by surprise when it only made the Doctor pummel into her faster.
He played with her clit as he went, making her shiver in pleasure. His fingers worked as fast as his hips and it was a matter of seconds until she came. She yelled loudly at her orgasm, but he kept going at full speed.
She was sure she wouldn't be able to handle for much longer when he finally spilled into her. Breathlessly, he collapsed onto her, unable to move, unable to function. Much like her, who had her head thrown back.
It was long until he finally managed to force something out of his mouth that wasn't profanities, "How's the hangover going, um?"
She hid her face in the curve of his neck. "Great. This oxytocin medicine of yours really does wonders. In fact, I think I could drug myself on it all day long."
"Really?" he remarked, his previous exhaustion already gone. And from her face features, so was hers.
They had their agenda full that day.
A/N: Any feedback here or on twitter (dutiesofcare) is much appreciated :)