Chapter 4

"Clara," he breathed against her lips after just a split second of near-surrender on his part. "We can't."

But the air seemed to be vibrating with their mutual desire, and Clara's patience had officially run out.

"I know that. I just don't care anymore," she admitted. "I know there's a million reasons why this is a bad idea, but really, what does that actually matter right now?"

"It matters, Clara, because one of us has got to keep their head about them," the Doctor lectured, stepping out of her embrace and beginning to pace anxiously. "And make that a million and one reasons." He came back to her and clasped her face with both of his hands, his long fingers nearly encompassing the petite curves of her cheeks. "I don't do this, Clara."

"I know that," she said, her voice clipped.

"I don't get close, I don't let myself be overcome by emotions, and I don't make commitments to anyone, ever." His accusing glare was the shabbiest, most pathetic suit of armor.

"I never asked you for any damn commitment," Clara corrected him, offended.

"You never had to ask," The Doctor said unhesitatingly. "It's yours."

"Please," Clara reasoned, emboldened again by the refreshing shock of his honesty. "I just want to be with you. Even if it's just for—" Her words faltered, her lashes fluttering.

"Even if it's just for one night?" His beautiful voice, with that incomparable accent and way of saying things, seemed to endow the words with a heavily sensual meaning that left her undone. This frankness of his was still so entirely new, and undeniably addictive to her. "You know that could never be enough."

"Can you feel this?" Clara asked, holding out her arm, rolling up her sleeve to grant him access. "Touch my arm." He shook his head but touched her ever so lightly.

"I'm dead, but I can feel that. You can't feel the goosebumps, but they are there, Doctor. I'm gone, but I'm here, I'm with you, and I need you. Like I never needed anyone. Do you think we'll ever have a chance like this again?"

"Oh, for goodness sake!" He paced again, pressing a hand to his forehead in an increasing panic. "What do you want me to say, Clara?" His eyes were wide with passion and she was struck silent. "That I need you back, that I want you?" The words sent a thrill running up and down her spine, but he wasn't finished.

He stepped into her personal space again and added, his voice ragged with feeling, "That I love you, Clara Oswald? Of course I do. I always have, and I'll never stop, and there isn't a—"

With that, she grabbed him by the collar and kissed him deeply, and this time, his arms went around her immediately, the pressure of his mouth against hers making her weak with craving for more. Clara slid his jacket from his shoulders as their mouths finally opened and their tongues met, running her hands up and down his back, lightly trailing her nails on his skin through the thin material of his t-shirt. The Doctor's breath caught and he pulled back slightly, gazing pleadingly at her as if she could somehow save him from giving into temptation. "Oh, shut up," she told him, and took his hand, leading him to the bed.

"Okay," he agreed gruffly, seizing her so quickly that she gasped, her legs encircling him as he lowered her to the bed. "Clara," he groaned softly in her ear as she felt for the first time the obviousness of his want of her, pressing against her as she raised her hips to meet the friction welcomingly. The Doctor shifted their position so that her head could rest on his pillow, the one he'd slept on for so many lonely nights, and she nudged their shoes off with her feet as their legs tangled.

If his body was warm, his lips were fire, emboldened with every kiss to venture further past the point of no return, as the inevitable and ever-irresistible push-and-pull of them took over deliciously. Clara and the Doctor. She hadn't always been willing to accept that they were meant to be. Destiny could be intimidating that way. But now that truth was all she knew, all she ever wanted to know.

After years of wondering and wishing, it was all unraveling, finally, and nothing could be more satiating.

"Take this off," she murmured in a sultry fever, nodding down at her blouse.

"You're bossy," the Doctor whispered against her neck, and he began kissing and gently biting her eager skin, making her roll her eyes upward in surreal satisfaction as her teeth sank lightly into her lower lip.

"That's because we're just alike," Clara reminded him as he carefully undid each button of her sheer, black and white polka dotted top, moving far too slowly. She decided that he was teasing her and reciprocated by reaching down to stroke his arousal.

The Doctor gasped at the sudden jolt of pleasure and then actually blushed. "Clara! That's not fair."

"Good," she retorted. "Do something unfair to me."

Grinning, he peeled her black camisole over her head, her arms reaching up to acquiesce as her hair bounced around her shoulders. The Doctor sat there a moment and just stared at her, prompting Clara to ask, "What is it?"

He sighed and gestured down at her clothing on the floor. "I liked that outfit."

"I knew you were lying about not being able to tell if someone looked nice," Clara accused him, pointing a finger at his chest.

"Nice?" The Doctor laughed. "Clara, how else was I going to be around someone as gorgeous and extraordinary as you every day without making it obvious how desperately I wanted to grab you and throw you down on this bed? I had to come up with something."

"Well, now here we are," Clara whispered.

"Yes, and as I said, I did like that outfit," The Doctor continued, letting his fingers graze her clavicle before drifting down to the cleavage above her bra. "But I like this one better."

"How much better?" Clara said softly, her voice laden with undisguised yearning. She started to remove his shirt as his hands went to the back clasp of her bra. Just then, however, they were interrupted. The TARDIS shook for a moment and then jolted into motion.

"You have seriously got to be kidding me," Clara complained as the Doctor's eyes flitted around, going back into investigative mode.

"It's not even a Tuesday this time," he griped as the TARDIS began shooting through space, taken over by forces unknown and heading who knew where.

"Doctor, I know we've naturally got some other things to handle at the moment, but let's be clear," Clara insisted, tipping his face towards her. "To be continued."

"To be continued," The Doctor agreed, indulging in one last searing kiss before they leapt up and she began to dress again.

Running to the control room, they both did a double-take at the course that had been locked in. "We're headed straight for Gallifrey," The Doctor observed incredulously.