He was vaguely aware of the lock clicking before Clara launched herself into his arms, her lips covering his in a kiss that he hadn't anticipated. His eyes flew wide open and his hands instinctively wrapped around her so she wouldn't fall, but he removed them hastily because he shouldn't be kissing her…She shouldn't be kissing him… Why were they kissing?
The door opened and a burly man with closely cropped hair appeared at the threshold, a severe look in his eyes as he stared at them both. Clara tore her lips away and glanced over her shoulder at him, balancing on her toes as she slid down the Doctor's body.
"Alright, Jas?" said the man.
"What are you doing?" she replied crossly. "We were in the middle of something."
The man set his eyes on the Doctor, but spoke to Clara. "Gunther says there was suspicious activity in this room. Thought you might be in danger."
"Gunther is an idiot," she retorted, still cross. The Doctor could feel her heart racing against his chest. "Tell him thanks for his concern, but I'm more than fine."
"You sure?" The man still hadn't taken his eyes off the Doctor.
"Yes," Clara reiterated. "Would you mind locking the door behind you? We would appreciate not being interrupted again."
With a nod, the man nodded once and glanced at her briefly before backing out the door. "Take it easy, Jas."
The door locked behind him. The Doctor stood there in silence before glancing back down at Clara, who was staring thoughtfully at his chest. "What was that?"
She frowned. "Security. If they see suspicious activity in a room they send someone up. Don't want any of us getting hurt." She laughed bitterly, then looked up at him with wide eyes. She drew his head back towards hers and spoke into his ear. "Gunther must be listening. He's seen men do worse to me, but must have heard you threaten to take me away."
His hands fell to her waist protectively at the mention of men causing her harm. "Whose Gunther?"
"Head of security. He watches the footage of all the rooms the companions visit, making sure nothing's out of order." She released a huff of frustration. "He's particular about me."
The Doctor sighed and raised a hand to the back of her head, hugging her to him. She was a prisoner in this place, almost like a slave. Sure, she was paid, but only in exchange for being a kept girl who catered to the wanton desires of the men who stayed her. If this Clara was anything like the original, this wasn't a life she chose willingly.
No, he thought. This was a life you chose for her when you got yourself stuck here.
It was his timeline she'd followed; if he'd never set foot in this time or place, then she would never have lived this life, never been reduced to what she was, although arguably prostitutes had it better off than the majority of the population. They were relatively well-cared for, whereas most people of this time were starving and without work.
"Do you really think you can get me out of here?" she asked, her voice shaking.
He tightened his hold on her. "Yes. I promise you, I will."
She took a deep breath, released it, and then shoved him back towards the bed with surprising strength. He stared up at her in alarm as he landed on his back.
"Clara, what—"
"Shut up," she said, crawling on top of him.
Her mouth covered his, her fingers running through his hair as she writhed on top of him. The Doctor hummed in protest, fidgeting helplessly as he struggled to figure out what to do.
"Gunther's watching," she breathed against his cheek. He gasped when her hot breath moved to the shell of his ear. "If I'm not working, he'll reassign me to another room."
"By… by working, you mean…?"
"Sex, yes."
"Ah… Right… Ah, ha ha!" he laughed weakly, sucking in a breath when she nibbled at his earlobe. "Couldn't we just… talk? You called yourself a companion. Don't you ever get clients who just want to talk?"
She shook her head and looked down at him. "It's not that sort of place." She smiled faintly and touched his face, her motions stalling. "You are rather shy, aren't you?"
"What? Me?" he squeaked.
She chuckled softly as he cleared his throat. Her expression softened afterwards, smile waning as she stroked his cheek with his thumb. "You were right," she said. "There's something about you… Something that keeps telling me I should trust you. What is it?" she asked apprehensively.
The Doctor didn't know how to answer her. He licked his lips before replying, "Instinct. Your… your past, your history…" He shut his eyes and released a sigh.
Explaining this wouldn't be easy.
Luckily, he supposed, he wasn't given the chance to speak further. Clara returned her lips to his, this time kissing him slowly, softly, all while shifting to where her body pressed firmly into his.
"Clara…"
"We've got to or they'll send Carver back."
"Carver?" he asked between kisses. "That the gentleman who burst in?" She nodded against his lips. "He called you Jas. Is that how you're known here?"
He was almost getting used to all of the kissing, but his body remained tense under hers. He wasn't sure he could control his reaction to her for much longer.
"I'm Jasmine here," she explained, lips moving against his. "All the girls are named after flowers, the boys Greek gods." She snorted lightly at that. "No one's supposed to know our real names."
He hummed softly as she returned her mouth to his, tongue slipping past his lips. He withdrew his head as far back as the bed would allow him.
She laughed softly, grinning down at him while lacing her fingers through his and gently pinning his hands to the mattress. "What's the matter?"
"I can't do this."
She looked between them, a grin curling on her lips. "Certain parts of you would disagree."
His cheeks felt like the were sunburnt. "That's not… I-I don't mean…"
"What is it, then? I know it's not me. You selected my type when you checked in."
"I – what?"
She regarded him curiously. "When you checked in, on the form? There's the section regarding companions. You selected a petite female, brown hair… The specific request was for a tight dress and someone who was 'a little bit bossy.'" She grinned. "That made me like you a little bit."
"But I didn't fill out a…" He glanced to where his jacket was draped across the back of the armchair near the window. "Oh, psychic paper."
"Psychic what?"
"Psychic paper. I flashed it to the clerk when I asked for a room. He did ask for a better look at it, now that you mention it…" He met her eyes and swallowed, speaking his next words without considering what they meant. "I must have been thinking about you."
She stared at him, blinking softly as she studied him. "How could you think of me when you've never even met me?" She breathed a little laugh. "What is going on?"
He raised a hand to the side of her head, his thumb resting against her cheek while his fingertips laced through her dark hair. "I'll explain everything, I promise. It might not make much sense…" He sighed. "But first, we've got to get out of here."
He sat up, forcing her to do the same, and leaned back on his palms. He tried to ignore how the shift in angle had pressed his near erection into her, instead focusing on scanning the room, all the while imagining the layout of the building.
Clara blinked at him, staring with shock. "W-What? No, we can't…"
He placed his hands at her waist and gently directed her to move off him so he could leap from the bed, his formerly exhausted body now thrumming with energy. He grabbed his jacket from the chair while Clara scrambled clumsily off the bed towards him, her thin heels catching on the bedspread.
She grabbed his wrist before he could fling his jacket behind him and slide it on. "Doctor, we can't."
"Of course we can," he replied, following her lead and speaking softly. "If we're going to leave, we might as well get going now."
"Sit down right now," she said through gritted teeth, her chest heaving with shallow, nervous breaths.
Eying her curiously, he sank into the chair and she straddled his lap again. He opened his mouth to protest but she leaned into his ear to explain the situation.
"Blokes have tried to take us away before, OK?" she told him, voice shaking. "Bad things happened to them. They always get caught, Doctor. Please… don't make me watch them hurt you."
He swallowed hard and nodded. "Then what do we do?"
She bowed her head against his neck and took a few deep breaths of relief while she thought about it. He heard her lick her lips before she returned to his ear. "We wait until the morning when I can go home. You check out afterwards, then meet me."
"Right, sounds like a plan. Good, good." He tapped his fingers against the armrests. "Dare I ask what we do until then?"
"Well, like I said. They reassign me if I'm not working."
He felt all the blood rush from the face. "So you'd… you mean they'd expect you to… All night?"
She started giggling, the sound achingly familiar. "Usually the request is put in beforehand, but… I've spent the night a few times, yeah." She leaned back and smiled at him, obviously still amused. "And most of the time we sleep."
He nodded. "Good. Sleep is good. So we can just go to sleep, then?" he asked hopefully.
"You desperately don't want to have sex with me, don't you?"
He glanced away from her and found himself nodding. "I would rather not, yes."
She leaned back a little, shoulders slumping. "Well, that's a first."
"No, no," he said hurriedly, touching her arms. "It's not you, I just… I'd just rather not."
"Then what exactly am I supposed to do with you, then? There's got to be something."
His hearts started racing. He understood what she meant—this was a tricky situation. He didn't want some thuggish bloke to take her away and reassign her to another room where someone else would…. But then, he knew he couldn't touch her like this. Not in these circumstances. Not when he barely knew who she was and she didn't know him.
He ignored the fact that there were a limited set of conditions that prevented him from sleeping with her, as if there absence meant he'd take her without a second thought.
"We could… We could do the kissing again. That should work, shouldn't it?" he said hopefully.
He didn't mind the kissing. In fact, he rather liked the kissing, even though he still felt guilty and uncomfortable and like he was taking advantage of the situation. Clara stared at him silently and he lifted his eyebrows, worried she was going to suggest something else.
"Eh? Kissing?" he prompted.
She smiled softly. "Yeah. I think I can make that work."
He instantly regretted the decision when she leaned forward and covered his mouth with hers, their lips separating with a soft smack as she lightly brushed against him. He'd always wondered what it would feel like to kiss her again, that episode with the snowmen not having been his finest moment. The past several minutes of her snogging him relentlessly had been nice, but the way she touched him now was different somehow, more personal. Almost like she knew who it was she was kissing.
Or perhaps it was because he was now kissing her back.
He wasn't paying attention to what he was doing anymore, his hands rising of their own accord to tangle in the soft curls falling past her shoulders. She slid her tongue against his and he moaned softly, and she rose and fell against him in a smooth, sensual motion that reawoke every particle of his being.
Soon she was moving firmly against him, small gasps escaping her lips as he breathed heavily against her chin. Even through the layers that separated them, he could feel her—he wanted her.
Luckily he didn't have time to do anything about it.
He leaned forward suddenly, arms wrapping tightly around her as he released a deep, pathetic cry into her ear. His eyes slammed shut and he caught his breath as she held onto him, her body still against his. He opened his eyes and then sat back, staring at her with horror.
"Well… That takes care of that, then," she said in an even tone. "I suppose you'll want to wash up."
She stood from his lap and he stared down at his trousers, feeling betrayed by his own body and also grateful that he'd stopped before getting carried away with her. He felt ashamed of himself for letting it go as far as it had, shame that was evident on his face as he stood.
"Don't worry about it," she said sweetly as he brushed past her towards the bathroom. "Happens to me all the time."
He couldn't look back at her. Instead, he shut the bathroom door and cleaned himself off, eyes slamming shut as he then braced himself against the bathroom wall and heaved a sigh.
Half an hour ago he'd been alone, and Clara Oswald had been gone from his life forever. Now she'd found a way back and it wasn't her, not really, and he was foolish to pretend like he'd gotten her back.
"It's not her," he told himself. "You know it doesn't work like that. It's not her."
He walked out of the bathroom to find her lying curled up on the bed, her head pressed against the pillow. Her eyes opened when he came in and she smiled softly. "Hope you don't mind me making myself comfortable."
He shook his head. "No, no, of course. You just… you have a rest."
"Aren't you going to join me?"
His cheeks flushed.
"Don't be such a boy," she teased tiredly. "Overnighters usually go for a snuggle at the very least."
Nodding, he removed his bow tie and dropped it on the nightstand, then unbuttoned his waistcoat and lowered it to the floor. He didn't usually sleep in his shirt and trousers, but he wasn't about to take any more clothes off, save for his socks and shoes. He discarded them next to the bed before climbing in beside her.
She smiled at him and he felt himself smiling back as he settled against his pillow. A voice repeated his words from earlier—it's not her—but he ignored it in favor of looking into her eyes.
"I've missed you," he said without thinking.
She sighed. "You said I travelled with you once."
"I did."
"Travelled where?"
She'd sidestepped the obvious question of "how" and declaration of "you're insane" in favor for a question that was much more Clara. It instilled him with hope and broke his heart in equal measure.
"Oh, everywhere," he said with curling lips, leaning forward slightly. "We travelled across the stars, visiting distance planets and moons and places outside of this time. I took you to Akhaten to see the Festival of Offerings, and then…" He thought back on his history with Clara and frowned at the next several places that came to mind. "Well, we got stuck on a submarine during the Cold War, but that was an accident… We were on our way to Vegas. Then we visited a spooky old house on the moors where we saw a ghost! Well, a sort of ghost. Then, well, some things happened… But after that we visited Victorian Yorkshire—which was actually sort of rubbish and somewhere I wouldn't recommend visiting again. Ah! But then we visited Hedgewick's World… and, well, there may have been some Cyber-Men there…. Right… But we had fun!" he assured her.
She giggled, perplexed by all he was saying but amused at how flustered he grew. "Then what?"
He could only stare back at her. He would have to tell her, to explain what happened, but he couldn't bear to think of it, let alone say the words out loud. He'd already repeated those moments over and over again in his mind, both during his waking and sleeping hours. He wasn't ready to do it again.
"Doctor?"
"We should get some sleep."
"Oh. OK." She considered him for a moment. "Would you like to hold me?"
"Yes, please," he replied pathetically, his voice mere breath as he reached for her.
Clara scooted forward and laid her head against his chest, her arms wrapping around him as he clung to her desperately. He was near weeping, his breaths heavy and shaky against her hair as she sighed into him. She didn't say anything.
It was like she already understood.
