This chapter is Rated M.
I own nothing. Thank you!
The Doctor stood outside Clara's flat nervously adjusting his jacket. He straightened his shirt for the third time since arriving at her door. He still hadn't mustered up the courage to knock. He glanced at his watch. 7:01. The Doctor closed his eyes and took a breath, giving four quick knocks on her door. He heard her squeak excitedly behind the door.
"Just a moment!" Clara called from inside. She had been standing on a stepstool, watching the Doctor through the peephole in her door. Clara glanced in the mirror one last time, pulling on the hem of her dress, making sure her hair and makeup were in place. She stared at her reflection. 'You can do this Clara' she told herself. It was just dinner. Dinner with a man she'd been pining after for months. Dinner led to wine, wine led to drinking, drinking led to - Clara shook her head, trying not to let her imagination get the better of her. She slid out the door. "Hello," she greeted the Doctor, quickly locking up her apartment.
"You look ... lovely," the Doctor told her. He wanted to say 'gorgeous' or 'beautiful', but feared he might seem too intense.
"You're dressed to the nines yourself Doctor," Clara commented on his suit. He wore his usual attire, with an added waistcoat and purple shirt. He recalled Clara once mentioning her fondness for purple. "Where are we off to?" Clara asked.
The Doctor offered her his arm, which she gladly accepted. "You said you liked Italian, yes? I found a charming little place not too far from town."
"Fantastic," Clara beamed as he led her to his car. The Doctor clicked his keys and an old car beeped. Clara stared at the car. "This is yours?" she asked, incredulous. The car was a royal blue, and appeared to be from the early 1960's.
"Isn't she gorgeous?" the Doctor stroked his hand along the hood.
"It's ancient!" Clara exclaimed.
"Hardly! 1963 Corvette. Younger than me even," the Doctor eyed her.
"For a car, that's old," Clara crossed her arms. "Not for a person," she quickly added.
"Don't listen to her," the Doctor ran his fingers along the car.
"Should I leave you two alone?" Clara motioned between the Doctor and the automobile.
"Oh hush you," he opened the door for Clara. The car wasn't any better on the inside. The Doctor climbed in turned the keys. The car made a horrible wheezing, groaning noise.
"What the hell is that?" Clara nearly jumped out of her seat at the awful sound.
"That's her engine," the Doctor explained, turning the keys a second time. "Takes her a few tries to get her going." Another turn, the car wheezed again.
"Sounds like it's having an asthma attack," Clara said.
The engine revved to life, "Aha, there we go," the Doctor shouted triumphantly, pulling the car onto the street. "There see? Just as good as any other car."
"Though modern cars can breech 70 mph," Clara commented. The Doctor rolled his eyes, still with a smile on his face.
They pulled up to a small restaurant, and the Doctor held Clara's door for her. She thanked him and took his arm once more. The two were led to an intimate, outside table overlooking a small body of water. The waiter lit a candle in the middle of the table and left inside. Clara looked out at the scenery, enjoying the gentle lapping of the water. The waiter reappeared, requesting their drink orders.
Clara looked to the Doctor, "Fancy a cocktail?" she asked.
"Sounds fantastic," the Doctor agreed. The waiter fetched them a small menu of alcoholic beverages.
"Once had a Black Russian," Clara pointed at one of the drinks. "Never caught his name."
"Clara!" the Doctor exclaimed.
"I'm joking," Clara laughed. The Doctor gave a sigh of relief. The Doctor ordered a screwdriver. Clara looked to the waiter. "Do you have any Scottish liqueur?" The waiter listed off a few. "Well then," Clara shot the Doctor a suggestive smirk. "I'll have a Quick Fuck, with the Scottish...liqueur," she phrased her words carefully, watching the Doctor blush intensely. The waiter gave an uncomfortable nod and left.
Their cocktails were set before them. Clara sipped hers, licking her top lip. She hummed in approval. "Never had a Scot before," she smirked behind her glass. The Doctor coughed, clearing his throat.
The rest of their dinner ensued with far less innuendos. The Doctor told Clara how he got his start in teaching. Clara explained her fascination with English, and how she longed to someday become an English teacher.
"I didn't know you wanted to become a teacher," the Doctor said, suddenly appearing a bit more solemn.
Clara noticed the sudden change in his atomosphere. "You alright Doctor?" she placed his hand over his. The Doctor intertwined his fingers with hers.
"Fine," he said, brightening again. Clara rubbed her arms as the wind picked up a bit. "Are you cold?"
"Wind's a bit chilly." The Doctor had already shrugged off his jacket. He walked around the table and placed it on her shoulders. Clara wrapped herself in his coat. It smelled like him, which was always a wonderful smell, something she couldn't describe. "Thank You."
It was close to 11 when the rest of the restaurant had cleared out, except for a few staff members. The waiter had been watching the two for awhile. He noticed the way the Doctor looked at Clara, and how their energy seemed to fuel off each others. If that wasn't romantic chemistry, then nothing was. He slipped into the back room and selected a music playlist.
"Hear that?" the Doctor asked.
Clara perked up at the music. "I don't recognize it."
"Kiss by Dean Martin," the waiter told them. "Compliments of the staff."
The Doctor rose from his seat, holding out his hand to Clara. He pulled her into his arms, one hand on her waist with the other holding her hand. They gentely swayed in rhythm with the music, Clara rested her head on the Doctor's chest.
"We've never danced so calmly before," she laughed.
The Doctor laughed as well. "I quite like it." The music changed to a quicker paced song. "Do you know how to swing dance?"
"No," Clara shook her head.
"Well tonight, you learn," he swept her into a swing dance, which she adapted to easily. She had become acustomed to adapting to his dance routines quickly. An onlooker would think they were professionals. The next Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. They danced for another hour until another staff member said they were closing for the night. The Doctor paid, thanked them for their service, and gave an extra tip to their waiter.
Clara and the Doctor returned to the old, beat up car, though Clara didn't really mind anymore. "That was amazing."
"Shall I assume a second date will be in store then?"
"You'll have to wait to find out," Clara smirked. She paused for a moment. "Doctor, I'm not ready for the night to be over," she admitted.
"It doesn't have to be over," he started the car, the engine once again groaning and wheezing a few times before revving to life. The Doctor drove a ways and pulled in to a parking lot Clara was unfamiliar with. It was an apartment complex. Clara realized the Doctor must have taken her to his flat.
In the hallway, the Doctor unlocked the door to his flat and led her inside. "I have coffee or tea if you want any," he walked to the kitchen.
Clara walked through the small living area. On the mantle there was a picture of a woman with a mass of gorgeous curls and bright green eyes. She was absolutely beautiful. Next to it was a picture of the Doctor and the woman together, in a rather close embrace. She had her arms around his neck and his forhead rested against hers.
"Is that a 'no' on the tea?" the Doctor returned, seeing Clara holding a picture. "Oh -"
"Are you married?" Clara asked, she looked angry. She was angry. The Doctor stayed silent. "You didn't tell me you were married?" Clara removed his jacket from her shoulders and tossed it on the sofa. "You were just leading me on! I'm just some sort of side fling aren't I? How dare -" Clara stopped suddenly when she noticed the Doctor's wet eyes.
"I was married. Not anymore. She died." Clara stood silent. She felt as if someone punched her in the chest.
"Doctor, I'm so sorry."
He raised his hand, stopping her. "It doesn't matter. It's been a few years; almost five."
Clara stared at the floor, she felt awful. "I should go," she gathered her things and made way for the door. The Doctor grabbed her arm, pulling her back.
"No, please don't go. I've had my mourning time. I loved her, I really did. More than anything. But, then you came along. I've given myself the chance to love again, please stay Clara."
She stepped back inside, closing the door. "Seems we have more in common than I thought."
"Losing someone you love hurts, I know. Especially when you thought you were going to be with them for the rest of your life."
"Doctor, you gave me a second chance at love. For that, I will be eternally grateful."
"My dearest Clara, you saved me in more ways than I ever could have imagined," the Doctor stepped closer, pulling Clara to him. She placed her hands on his chest, closing her eyes. For a while it felt nice just to be held in his arms.
"You can leave if you want to," the Doctor whispered, though Clara could tell in his voice he didn't want her to go.
Clara shook her head, "I don't want to." A moment passed, the only audible sound was their steady breathing. The Doctor dipped his head down, holding Clara's face in his hands, he pressed his lips softly against hers. It was quite different from the first time they kissed. The first time was rough, filled with unresolved tension. This kiss was much more gentle, with much more meaning.
Clara tilted her head to the side, as her mouth molded against the Doctor's. He moved a hand down to the small of her back, pressing her against him. She could feel his arousal against her upper thigh. Timidly, Clara moved her hands to the buttons of his shirt. The Doctor stopped her.
"Clara, don't feel as though you have to do this. I don't want to rush you into anything."
Clara tilted her head up, "Doctor, I've been waiting for this for quite a long time. I promise, you aren't rushing at all." She pulled him back down to her, kissing him a bit less gently. The Doctor slowly pulled her to his bedroom.
Clara undid the buttons on his waistcoat, and continued down the rest of his shirt, sliding the material off his shoulders and onto the floor. It was the first time she had seen him without a shirt, and she quite liked what she saw. She pulled her dress over her head, dropping it to the ground with his shirt and waistcoat. The Doctor pressed his hands against her hot skin while she undid his belt and pulled his trousers to his ankles. He kicked them off, along with his shoes and socks, leaving him entirely bare. Clara kicked her shoes off to the side, becoming significantly shorter. She pulled her hair out of the bun she had it in, letting it fall to her shoulders. She reached behind her, undoing the clasp of her bra. The Doctor led her to the bed, laying her on her back. He sat at the foot of the bed and slowly slid her knickers down her legs.
Clara watched as he took her left leg and slowly kissed up from her foot to her knee, and repeating on the other leg. "You are so beautiful," he said, his mouth on her calf. The Doctor stroked his hand along the soft skin of her inner thigh. He leaned his head down and pressed chaste kisses on both sides of her thighs, leading right up to the area between her legs. Holding her gaze, the Doctor licked up her centre. Clara laid her head back, sighing as he continued. She wound her fingers through his curls, writhing underneath him. She moved her other hand to her breast. The Doctor moved his mouth up from in between her legs and up her stomach. He lightly dipped his tongue along her navel and continued up her chest. Clara closed her eyes as he took her breast between his lips, swirling his tongue around the hardened tip. She whimpered when he slid his hand between her legs. Clara arched her back as he curled his fingers.
The Doctor moved her hand and took her other breast between his lips, sucking gently. Clara bucked her hips against him. He moved his mouth up her chest to her throat and kissed along the side of her neck, nibbling lightly. Clara held him against her, with her hands on his shoulders. She leaned upward, her breasts pressing against his chest. The Doctor gasped. Clara moved her hands down to his back and his leg, pulling his groin against her thigh.
The Doctor stopped. "Are you sure Clara? Really, properly sure?" Clara nodded quickly, grabbing his face with her hands and kissing him roughly. With her permission, the Doctor slid himself inside her. Clara moaned against his mouth. She grinded against him, urging him to continue. The Doctor started slowly. Clara kissed up his shoulder to his throat. He thrust again, grabbing her hips. Clara dug her nails into his skin. He groaned loudly. The Doctor began quickening his pace, while Clara wrapped her legs around his waist and the back of his leg. His thrusts became faster and Clara could tell she was close to breeching the edge. The Doctor thrusts a few more times and Clara tightened around him, sending him into euphoria. Clara unintentionally bit down on his shoulder as she came.
The Doctor was panting above her. Clara's own chest was heaving. He removed himself from her, and lowered himself beside her, wiping persperation from his face. They were silent after that. The Doctor fell asleep rather quickly. Clara stayed awake longer, staring up at the ceiling. She could hear the Doctor asleep beside her. She smiled to herself, wrapping her arms around his torso and pressing her lips softly against his bare back.
