A/N: Well, at first I'd just like to thank everybody who's been waiting so eagerly for this story - and I sincerely hope it won't disappoint.
A special thank you to my beta and to Marion, who's drawn the cover art for this fanfic.
You've read the story of Jesse James
Of how he lived and died;
If you're still in need
Of something to read,
Here's the story of Bonnie and Clyde.
They had never believed in love at first sight.
Robbery at first sight, however…
The Doctor and Clara Oswald met when they both were attempting at robbing the same diamond ring.
After that unfortunate event, they just realized it would be best to steal the diamond ring together.
After that unusual conclusion, they decided against selling the diamond ring for money, instead keeping it as a memento of an anamnesis to the beginning of their brand new life together.
A life of crime and passion; a life of growing wealthy from the wealth of others.
They mostly did it for the fun of it, the high of living in constant danger and always getting away with it. Their hearts beating so fast that time would slow down around them; the giddy feeling of endorphins flowing within their bodies. That addiction that had turned into something impossible to turn away from that they'd even stop trying.
That kind of high — why would anyone even try to stop?
The Doctor popped the question one hazy day of spring, using the same diamond ring from their first encounter. It happened by the riverside, during the sunset, and the last rays of day sparkled on the precious rock almost as much as they made his eyes glow.
Even if they didn't glow from light; even if they glowed from love.
He didn't get down on his knees — no, he was against clichés. He just raised the ring in the air and Clara didn't need to be asked twice to yank it from his hold and put it on her finger. She stared at it for the longest time, her hand high, although her vision was much more focused on the heady universe of love and mischief in his eyes than the richness the stone provided her finger.
She never said yes; instead, once she managed to kick herself out of her own daze, she threw her arms around his neck, locking them so tightly she risked suffocating him. He spun her around several times, almost knocking both of them to the floor in his dizzy joy.
Their lips crashed against one another and their tongues sealed their promise of love. They never really married, of course; neither of them were the marrying type. The thrill flourished in being together with no strings attached, in being together because they wanted to be together, because they couldn't bear the idea of staying far from each other, not because of some silly bond that casted them together.
Their love was their strength, not their doom.
"So, how do you want to play this?"
Clara had a smug look upon her face, waiting for his elaborate plan. She was leaning against the wall, next to a hung poster of the most hideous sketch of them, mocking the authorities. They didn't know they names, so the police had named them Bonnie and Clyde — dogs names, like the beasts they were. England's most wanted, and England did a nasty job of capturing them.
His brain was working ahead of his legs — although they did try to catch up, circling around himself in endless loops. Clara watched him with a smirk, feeling amused and more than a little aroused. He looked incredibly hot in his state of overthinking; his fingers holding a cigarette between his forefinger and middle finger, distractedly bringing it to the corner of his mouth and holding the smoke inside for a brief moment before blowing it out, nails occasionally scratching his poorly shaved beard, his gray curls building a halo around his head, his eyes burning with a fire ignited by desire.
If she could, oh if only she could, she would grab him by the collar, press his body against the wall and force their mouths together and—
"This is what we'll do," he announced, ending her sexually charged daydreams. He threw his cigarette to the floor, stubbing it out with his foot. Even though he lacked the ability to read minds, he pressed each of his hands to the wall right above Clara's shoulder pads, his hot breath warming her faces with the grey air straight out of his lungs. "I'll play the innocent customer while you access the environment. As soon as you judge best, you'll draw your gun and demand they give you all the money they've got. They will give it to you, and go crying home afterwards over losing all their riches to a girl."
Clara licked her lips at their proximity, their hips grinding, devouring him with her eyes. "What about you? What's your role in all this?"
"I'll be the annoying and infuriating victim who refuses to get down on my knees, so you'll be forced to aim your gun at me and shoot — idealistically missing — to teach the others a lesson not to cross you," he prompted, hovering his mouth just above the crook of her neck. God, he wanted nothing more than to nibble the delicate skin there in front of him.
Clara felt all around his waist — with the main intention of driving him insane, he was sure — and pulled out his gun. She devilishly met his eyes when she felt something hard between his legs that wasn't the metal weapon.
The back of her hand accidentally yet intentionally caressed the fabric that hid his sex. "You might want to save that for later, dear. Your dominatrix will take care of you, don't worry."
She cried so softly and innocently, like she didn't know the raspiness of her voice did the exact opposite to his body. He was a disaster when it came to her; she had him completely under her spell, and she was determined to keep it that way. "Clara."
Clara escaped from his hold before she surrendered herself to her darkest thoughts and gave herself to him. Her lips were still curved in a grin when she curled her index finger to gain his attention and have him follow her.
"Come on now, Doctor. We have a bank to rob."
Clara walked through the doors of the bank with tall, deliberately distracting steps. Her tight black skirt and salmon silk shirt attracted everybody's eyes as the doors announced her arrival. Underneath her coat, she held the gun firmly with her upper arm, pressing it to her torso as she played with her own hands. She had a smirk shaping the corner of her lips, and if all those male clients knew any better, they would know she wasn't winking to them, but to a tall, grey, handsome man whose grin nearly matched her own.
And yet, it took them almost three seconds to forget all about her and return to their businesses.
Clara traveled her tongue across the flesh of her lips, carefully walking around and trying to find the weakest link. She soon did, spotting from the corner of her eye the skinny, sweaty boy who lacked the age and the experience to be a bank manager. She despised the idea of how he was so privileged of his sex and color to be there, whereas she, a woman, would never even be offered such a job, not at her time and space.
Yes. He was her perfect victim. Just like she was the perfect victim of the patriarchal system she was trapped in. The system she was about to break. She drew her gun and yelled loudly.
"Everybody down, now!"
The entire room turned into screams and shouts, and most of the people did a fair job of obeying her. Except for the agents, who instead raised from their seats with their hands high in the air. Except for a certain grey-haired man, who was looking for trouble.
Clara had both hands on the gun, fingers twitching on its trigger. She circled around several times, making sure all the customers had obeyed her; she landed her aim at a certain Doctor. She provoked, "Are you deaf? I said, down."
The Doctor amusedly sauntered towards her. "Or what, are you going to shoot me? I'm sorry, my dear, I very much doubt you have it in you," he teased, "You see, you're a woman, you're fragile, your heart impedes you from causing any harm to anybody. Maybe, if you had been born a man… But you weren't, so let's just end this joke right here."
Coming from any other man, she surely wouldn't have missed their head when she pressed the trigger and shots echoed inside the building. The shells ricocheted through a window, and glass shattered all over the floor. With her eyes burning, she repeated, "I said, down."
Defeatedly, the Doctor dropped to his knees, keeping both his hands behind his head. Clara swung her gun to the cashier she had pre-selected, "Give me your money. And don't you try to do anything funny, because I will start shooting. And I won't miss this time."
The shaky boy swallowed hard, grabbing all the money from the safe just behind him and shoving it inside a bag, which he handed her with difficulty, since his limbs wouldn't stop trembling so hard he could barely hang on to it. The smile on her face was devious as she accepted it, leaning forward against the counter that separated them and caressed his pale face with the muzzle. She was high on his fear. "Thank you, sweetheart."
She laughed when she finally let go of him, and the tension left his trembling body immediately. She was still laughing when she walked backwards to the entrance, politely waving her hand goodbye as she disappeared.
No one dared to say anything, still too in shock about what had just happened. That was, except for the Doctor, who was already back up in his feet and saying sentences of the sort, "Don't you all worry. I'll fix it. I'll get your money back, if you'll excuse me."
And he ran towards the exit, leaving the vain hope in the air that he would fix everything and an even greater fright when he didn't return and everybody assumed she had killed him for good.
The Doctor chased Clara inside their house, tickling her and yanking frenetic laughs and yelps from her lips. She was desperately trying to escape his attacks while still holding to the bag of money they had just gotten, until she tripped on her own feet and landed right in his arms.
The Doctor trapped her from behind within his embrace, both arms crossed around her belly. He deliriously kissed all over her face and neck, dampening her skin with his lips and tongue. Clara's knees went weak, and soon, she lost her balance, tears of laughter still in her eyes, as she fell deeper inside his ambush. Out of breath, she still tried to beg for mercy, "Stop, oh God, stop."
He dug his teeth into the crook of her neck, sucking her skin roughly — she was sure it would leave a mark. Her grip on the bag she somehow still held lost its strength, and it fell to the floor with little noise. Her hands pressed tightly to his wrists on her stomach, "Oh, fuck me."
He brought her even closer against him, grinding his hips against the curve of her asscheeks, igniting the fire until they were burning. "That's what I'm going to do, dear."
"Fuck," she repeated, at last managing to turn around and they stood face to face. Clara hungrily shoved her tongue into his mouth and devoured his inside, savouring every little inch of him, tasting the sweet taste of him, catching his lower lip between the sharpness of her teeth.
Her fingers traveled along the silver sea of curls of his hair, sending sparks shooting all the way down his spine. She slightly bent her knees to get some height as she jumped onto him, locking her legs around his waist. Weren't for all the clothes they still wore, they would be fucking right there.
The Doctor let Clara's body fall to the mattress of their bed, and the springs screeched. He chewed the lobes of her ear, getting her hips to buck and twitch in an unending loop. Her nails dug deeply into his back, sending palpitations to his heart.
Her lips and tongue traced lines across the borders of his face, her arms wrapped around his neck and almost suffocating him, but still succeeding in bringing him so near her their bodies would soon collapse and merge. He was so lost within her spell he never expected what was about to happen.
She quickly rolled their bodies until she was on top of him. Never tearing their kiss apart, she undid his belt and brought it completely out of the belt loop. Her hands caressed their way back up to this shoulders, where she wrapped her nimble fingers around each of his thick wrists, holding them up over his head, enchanting him with the lips she still had fixed on his. He still didn't see it coming.
He was just completely confused when he felt what seemed to be some fabric locking his hands together and restraining his movements.
"Clara?" he was lost, dazed, and failed to form any other word besides her name.
"Shh," she shushed him, placing her index finger over his lips, whilst her free hand tied the belt tighter around his wrists before affixing it to one of the headboard bars. He was under her mercy. She was completely in control of him.
"Oh God," he cried hoarsely, trying not too strenuously to free himself, to no success.
Clara straddled his lap, even though they still hadn't lost a single piece of clothing. She lowered her torso down, brushing her fingertips so delicately along his face, his chin, his neck, like he was some work of art that she dreaded to break. She whispered, "I'm afraid God can't help you now."
"Fuck," he exhaled, leaning forwards in an attempt to touch her, almost like he had forgotten the fabric holding him back. "Fuck, Clara."
She merely chuckled at his desperation, her hands invading underneath his tee and feeling the tickle of his body hair against her palms. Her nails scratched a faint, red pattern up and down his skin, as she watched with interest the goosebumps that followed their path. The Doctor thought she had acquired the ability to read his mind when she pulled his shirt above his head, abandoning it up near his wrists.
She then became entranced by his pink nipples, and she caught one of them, rolling it between her thumb and index, closely watching for his response. The low, growling moan that escaped his throat assured her of his enjoyment, so she did the same to the opposite one. The Doctor shut his eyes, concentrating on this newfound paradise, intending to feel her divine touch on him even more intensely than he already was.
The rock between his legs was struggling to break free — she knew; she could feel the organ's desperate lurches against the fabric imprisoning it. Slowly, she unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down, alongside his underwear, and he soon laid there completely naked before her. With his knees, he tried to turn over and force himself into a sitting position, but she stopped him abruptly, forcing him back down brutally.
Her fingers loosely wrapped around his shaft, and she whispered in his ear, "Beg."
And the Doctor admitted defeat the moment he succumbed himself to her fantasies — and what a glorious defeat it was. "Please, Clara."
She tightened the grip around his aching member, but not enough to cause any useful level of friction. "Like you mean it."
He would soon choke in his own desperate need. "I am begging you, Clara. I need to feel myself inside of you, I want to see the stars and feel them burning in our veins as we drive towards our peak, together."
It was enough — for now. Rubbing her hand up and down, she lowered her head to the throbbing. twitching organ in between his legs, the tip of his erection millimeters away from her mouth. His hips gained a life of their own when they leaned closer and brushed his penis against her luscious, teasingly closed lips, begging for entrance. He would surely need to be punished for that impetuous movement, later.
Succumbing to her needs as much as to his, Clara parted her lips, and formed a hungry, heated opening, enveloping the tip of his penis, and began caressing it with her tongue. She started to suck lightly, her teeth delicately grazing across his foreskin. Even holding him down by his hips, she couldn't keep him from bucking, trying to get more of that wet heat around his shaft. Once his movements slowed, she decided to repay him a bit for his patience.
She sank her head down, taking in every bit of his shaft that she could. With her hands, she gently squeezed his balls, only intensifying the cries that desperately broke through his throat. He was frantic; he had no idea how much longer he would be able to stand the mind-blowing torture she was putting him through.
In a steady rhythm, her neck traveled up and down, her tongue pressing hard against the large vein along the bottom of his rock-hard length as she went along. The Doctor raised his head to look at her, only to find her already staring at him; the image of her devouring him was so hot he could feel his climax building up even faster.
And he was so close. He was going to, any moment now, if only she didn't—
Clara abruptly climbed off him, a small pool of her saliva cooling at the base of his penis. His breathing pattern was rather quick; he tried almost desperately to break free and find himself the orgasm she had abruptly refused to give to him — he couldn't. He followed her with his eyes, watching as she stripped herself for him: tugged her tee within her fingers and pulled them out of her head, unclasped her skirt and allowed it to slip to the floor, detached her bra and removed her panties. She freed herself of all her clothes without ceremony and stood naked, just like him. Her breasts bounced up and down as she approached him by the head of the bed; he had his glare fixated on her brushing and rubbing her own nipples — were it to allow herself with the pleasures of the flesh or to drive him insane. Oh, he wished he could have her tits in his mouth.
She sank her knees to the soft mattress, right next to his head. His stare had dropped to her pinky sex; the smell of her desire was stronger than ever. He brought his head upwards the most he was able to, his lips half open and his mouth salivating at the sight. His hard erection twitched as he witnessed her fingers pressing to her throbbing clit, his eyes filling with water at the growing need of having her.
He was almost relieved when she climbed over him once more.
But not in an ordinary way. He hadn't even considered what she was about to do, so lost had he been in his own desires.
Breaking his expectations of feeling her tight inner walls grasping his penis, he was surprised when she knelt directly above his head, facing away from him, her entrance perfectly aligned with his mouth. The scent of her sex penetrated from his nose straight to his brain, and he was sure he could drown in the wetness of her vagina. She sank down on him and he hungrily started eating her out.
His tongue cleansed her labium, pushing deeply into the heat in between her folds. She didn't declare any profane words, but her clit throbbing harder and faster against his lips, and the continual supply of moisture coming from her depths, assured him he was doing it right. He gently nibbled her clitorus, shooting spasms throughout her entire body.
"Fuck me, now," she demanded, and though he wasn't positioned to argue, he was happy to oblige her. He worked his tongue as fast and hard as he could, tracing circles around her clit, flicking it, knowing she wouldn't last long with his quick pace. Her hips started grinding against his face, accumulating the orgasm that would soon hit her. He intensified his movements.
Her panting was loud and erratic. She landed her hands on his hips — he concluded to find herself some balance; hence why it came to him as a complete surprise when her spine bent forward and her hot mouth returned to his penis. Faster, more desperately, trying to match his tempo and allow him the same pleasures she was receiving. Soon after, she reached her climax, drenching his face in her girly cum; he didn't stop, driving her insane with all the friction.
Her orgasm nearly caused her to choke on his cock; she didn't, though, and instead it accelerated her movements, forcing him to come inside her mouth. He wasn't able to stop his hips from thrusting towards her face, racing, and racing, and racing, until he bucked furiously one last time, hitting the back of her throat, and she was forced to swallow all of his sperm when she daren't back away.
After a few seconds of pure astonishment, Clara managed to fall off from him, landing on her back to his side. It took her even longer to leave her daze and join him by the head of the bed, kissing him deeply; they both could taste themselves in the other's mouth. Not breaking their salvage kiss, she finally untied him.
Enjoying the regained freedom of his hands, the Doctor pressed them strongly to the back of her head, pulling her deeper into their kiss. One of them descended along her body, seducing her skin, sending shivers along her spine, where his fingers slid down, until—
He roughly slapped her in the ass, so harshly it would surely leave a red reminder of his fingers there. She broke away immediately, shock written all over her face; he didn't allow her the chance to speak. "You naughty little girl."
"Oh, yeah?" she teased, eyes sparkling in lust, "And what are you going to do about that?"
The Doctor struck her once more — she didn't even flinch. "You're going to pay for your sins, Clara Oswald."
She didn't say anything else when he suddenly mounted her from behind. Her breaths became quick and ragged, anticipating whatever punishment he had in mind. Clara tried to shift underneath him, but he was stronger than her. She felt him grazing his hard penis across both her holes, making her anxious at the torture of which one he would dare to entrance.
He forced her legs wide open, the tip of his dick at times entering her vagina, at other times, breaching her ass. One of his long, powerful hands wrapped nearly all the way around her throat, not tight enough to be in danger of suffocating her, but still plenty snug to allow him to feel her desperate heartbeat against his palm. "You want this so desperately I can feel the tears in the corner of your eyes."
He was right — but she would never so easily give herself in to him. Her airway became even more obstructed when he let go of her neck, only to pull her head back by her hair. Her tits were flying in the air, her nipples becoming little rocks that ached for his mouth, his teeth.
The tip of his index penetrated the first inch of her bum, and she drew her breath in even more sharply. She could feel it coming at any time; the wait he inflicted upon her only made it all the harder to wait. She counted to ten, twelve, waiting for his next move, waiting, waiting, waiting—
The Doctor pushed himself into her vagina at full force, burying his shaft, like a sword, to the hilt. And it hurt—oh God, it hurt—and she loved the pain the most. At first, he was still, giving her the opportunity to accommodate to his length inside of her, and then, the beast in him took over.
He pounded against her like a dog howling in its rut. Ferociously, hungrily, her vagina felt like heaven around him. He lifted her top half and cupped both her boobs with each of his hands, gluing her back to his hairy torso. She panted heavily, her body weak under the mercy of his — and he didn't have any to give.
His hot breath tickled the hair behind her neck and her hands traveled backwards, until they were holding each of his butt cheeks; digging her nails into them, urging him to speed up even more and more.
She came again, her jaw fallen down at the sensations exploding in her, traveling her nerves and pouring all the chemical reactions into her veins and arteries. Tears of pleasure and joy freely descended her cheeks, especially when he kept thrusting her from behind. Even faster now, at the extra heat and tightness warmness her orgasm had gripped his shaft with, not allowing him to think of anything else.
By the time he finally reached his climax, Clara was frenzied. His hot liquids filled her up, and he collapsed above her; tiredly, out of breath. She was unable to move a single muscle, her head resting sideways across the pillow. He was heavy above her, nearly crushing the life out of her, until he rolled to her side, heaving chest facing the ceiling, body drenched in their sweat. When he dared to look at her, he came across her pupils wide and her eyes wild, seemingly deep enough to swallow him whole. He delicately rubbed his thumb across her applecheek, clearing away the path of tears lodged there. She attempted a smile at his gentle gesture, although she was so drained of energy she doubted she had succeeded.
"God," the Doctor cried, bringing himself closer to her, one of his arms wrapped around her shoulders and pulling her into his embrace. "I love you so much."
She inhaled his scent, her nose and mouth embed in the crook of his neck. She achieved to say before perishing away in her sleep, "I love you, too."
A/N: Any feedback here or on twitter (dutiesofcare) is much appreciated :)