She'd no sooner shut the door of the TARDIS behind them than the Doctor was on her, his body crowding hers backwards into the door, his tongue thick and eager in her mouth and one slender thigh slipping between hers to hold her deliciously in place.

"I'm not your boyfriend, Clara."

"I never said you were."

No, she hadn't, but she'd also never said that she didn't fancy him quite a bit in his new form: all silver, slim, Scots and furious at the universe.

He broke the fevered kiss to hiss against her lips, "What the fucking fuck did you put in my drink?" before seizing them in his own again, his hands coming up to curl into her hair so he could get a better angle to bite into the deepening kiss.

His cursing reminded her, not for the first time, of this Doctor's striking resemblance to a former colleague of hers; a junior political communications officer that she'd had a few irresistibly heated dalliances with. Well, he wasn't quite so junior anymore, the last she'd heard he was the current prime minister's head spin doctor. He, like her new Doctor, was also Scottish, silver and furious, with the dirtiest mouth of anyone she'd ever met. Before starting her teacher training, she had done a brief stint as a copywrite editor at the campaign office where he had been based and she'd always found his fiery personality to be a bit of a weird turn on. Every time the Doctor called someone a pudding brain Clara would have a flashback to Malcolm yelling biologically impossible obscenities at someone, and then feel a wildly inappropriate surge of heat and tingles in all the fun places.

Said heat and tingles were very much in effect right now.

Clara reached around behind him to pull his hips deeper into hers and he made an uncontrolled, animalistic noise at the back of his throat as his very evident excitement was pressed more firmly against her; the movement gave her more of the satisfying pressure of his thigh between her legs and she made a filthy noise of her own at the sensation.

This was moving very quickly.

The Doctor broke away with an obvious effort and blinked at her, panting to catch his breath. "I don't know what's happening here, Clara… but I don't think I can stop it."

Clara bared her teeth at him in a primal grin and raised a vixen's eyebrow, "Do you really want to stop it?"

Another growl. "Fuck no." This time his possession of her mouth was more urgent and she felt her eyes roll back behind her lowered eyelids as a tidal wave of confused passion crashed through her; sense-memories of Malcolm's incredibly skilled manipulation of her flesh mixed together with anticipation of what the Doctor, her Doctor, with his centuries of experience, could elicit within her. She moaned and he broke the kiss again, this time to spin her around and press her front into the door while his hands went to work from behind her, removing the fabric barriers to their need. She could feel his hearts hammering against her back and she gulped in the breath she hadn't even realized that she'd been holding.

The Doctor used one foot to nudge hers further apart, widening her up for him, and he moved her arms to stretch up and out until she was splayed, spread-eagle against the door of his frankly magnificent ship. Leaning over her shoulder, he breathed a command into her ear, "Stay."

Exposed finally to the air, turned on even more by his suddenly dominant manner and feeling the head of his erection sliding forward between her open lips, she panted hotly against the wood of the TARDIS door, doing her damnedest not to beg him to just shove it in. He wasn't wasting time on foreplay; this was happening, and it was happening now. He angled his hips and the tip of him started to press into her; her forehead dropped to the wood and she huffed out a breath in an attempt to control herself and obey his wishes as she prepared to swallow him into her body.

"It was in the water!"

Clara blinked, he'd pulled away with the shout of revelation and left her spread, on fire and wet while he paced the room, repairing his state of undress as he went. Clara turned and sagged back against the door while the Doctor waved his arms and jabbered about the science behind how they'd gotten into the state they had. He ran to one of his blackboards, still jabbering, and started sketching out mathematical garbage while Clara redressed with trembling hands and rubbery knees.

Goddammit.

Well that de-escalated quickly.

Clara dressed whilst glaring at the other, jabbering occupant of the time machine, and pulled her mobile from her pocket.

Hi Malcolm, it's Clara. Fancy dinner tonight?