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Chapter 4

John could hardly believe it when Clara sank down in the seat next to him once more after she had finished playing and today she even wore a smile on her face, one that made his heart dance.

"Did you enjoy it?" Clara asked with a knowing look on her face, a look telling him that she knew damn well how good she was.

"Very much," he smiled back at her. Thank God his speech wasn't failing him today, yet he would never admit how he had practised complimenting her in front of the mirror this morning. "You're too good to play on the street."

She shrugged. "I have no one else to play for. My grandma, when she comes to visit, but that's usually only Christmas."

You could play for me, John wanted to say but thought better of it. While he notice that Clara was scanning him with her eyes he racked his brain for something intelligent to say.

"Can I order you anything?" he asked her, "A coffee? Iced tea?"

The smile remained on her lips. "How about coffee at your place? I'll bring my cello."

John's mouth fell open. He hadn't expected her to be so bold and straightforward, he hadn't expected her to ever want to come anywhere near him at all, especially not his home and John didn't actually know how to respond.

"Are you married?" Clara asked, suddenly seeming a little more nervous, "Cause if you have a girlfriend or wife waiting at home that would be weird, I realize that."

"I don't," he replied, swallowing hard.

Clara raised her eyebrows at him, still waiting for a response.

"Good," John cleared his throat, "Let's go."

John took Clara's cello before she could reach for it herself and threw it across his shoulder, noting that it was a lot heavier than it looked as he started leading the way.

"Why don't you?" Clara asked after they had walked in silence for a few minutes.

He turned his head in her direction. "Why don't I what?"

"Have someone. A wife, girlfriend. Men like you usually do," she replied.

John snorted. "Men like me?"

Clara didn't respond to that. Instead she kept walking next to him, so close that their hands almost touched and John had to concentrate hard to not let his thoughts wander off. Touching Clara was so far off limits that it would never happen in this universe.

"Do you have someone?" he asked her back after a while, eyeing her reaction curiously.

"I had," Clara said nonchalantly, "He was a nice guy, but it didn't work out."

"I had someone, too," John confessed, "She wasn't nice and I ended it. I guess our relationship was more of a habit than anything else. And a bad one at that."

Suddenly she chuckled. "I don't mind bad habits."

John didn't quite know what she had meant by that but as they had just reached his apartment building the conversation stopped anyway when he reached into his pocket and retrieved the key.

"No house?" Clara inquired, "Just a flat?"

John shrugged when he turned the key inside the lock. "What would one person do in a whole house all by themselves?"

"I don't know. Live?"

The door fell shut behind them and John slowly made his way up the stairs, his knees aching under the additional weight of the cello but he would be damned to show any kind of weakness in front of Clara. He was already anything but impressive.

"One more question," he heard her say behind him, "What's your name?"

John snorted. "You asked that after you've followed me home?" he asked back, "I'm John. John Smith."

"I'm Clara Oswald."

"I know," he replied and already wanted to kick himself. He shot around and looked at her, the nervousness creeping back up inside of him. He shouldn't know that about that. "I, uhm, the waiter at the café mentioned it," he explained.

"Thought so."

They had arrived at the door when Clara suddenly reached for his hand, making him turn around and before John knew what was happening her body was pressed against his own. He felt her mouth on his and her kiss seemed to rob him of his breath. For a moment he froze, not knowing what to expect anymore. Clara was kissing him and her touch tingled on his skin, making him want more of this impossible woman. Could he? Was he allowed to want her? His mind went utterly blank.

Clara apparently sensed his hesitation and pulled away. "Just to be clear, when I said coffee I didn't actually mean coffee," Clara breathed, a smile on her lips.

"Uhm," John opened his mouth but no words came out when he felt Clara's hand trail down his chest and come to rest right above his belt, "I'm not sure I-"

"What?" she asked, her eyes growing wider as if expecting disappointment. And disappointed she would be if he couldn't get it up.

"Why?" John asked her. He just didn't know what else to say. He needed to understand what on earth a woman like Clara could want with him.

"Why?" she laughed, "Because I want it. Because you seem lonely and I want it."

Clara pressed herself harder against him, her stomach rubbing against his trousers and John instantly felt his bloody travel south.

He swallowed. "Clara, I've. . . I. . .," John stammered nervously, "I've been having problems. . . with that."

"With what? Getting hard?" she asked innocently, her hand wandering straight to his crotch. Her touch sent sparks flying through his body in an instant and John had to restrain himself from rubbing himself against her hand. She felt amazing. She felt exciting. And above all she felt like something entirely new.

"I don't see the problem," Clara shrugged and squeezed him a little harder.

John couldn't help himself. He bent forward and crashed their mouths back together in another, more passionate kiss. This time Clara parted her lips for him and when he felt her tongue he knew that he couldn't possibly stop at just this. John wanted her. All of her. He wanted the marvel that was Clara Oswald.

Still kissing they managed to find their way into his flat and when the door closed behind them he leaned her cello back against the wall and hoisted her up in his arms, carrying her straight into the bedroom. John couldn't remember the last time he had felt so alive as he was feeling right at this moment when he peeled Clara out of every layer of clothing she wore. It seemed as if he discovered himself again when he discovered her body, showering every inch of her skin with kisses and and caresses. When he closed his mouth around her nipple Clara gasped, a sound that shot straight through his body. Clara curled her fingers into his hair and guided his lips where she wanted them until he settled between her legs. A satisfied moan escaped her throat when he buried his tongue between her folds, licking and lapping at her until she was writhing against him. Every worry he had had about not being able to please her vanished when she started muttering his name and even though John couldn't understand why, Clara wanted him, and the though of that aroused him more than watching her play the cello.

"Stop," Clara panted heavily and pulled gently at his hair. John looked up at her flushed face, still tasting her on his tongue. "I want to come with you inside me."

He surrendered himself to her as Clara turned him on his back and straddled his lap. The sensation he felt when she brushed against his erection was almost burning. John was hard and too eager to find release inside of her, but instead Clara bent down and kissed his lips sweetly while her hand wrapped around his cock.

He moaned at her touch, unable to hold back any longer. It had been too long since he had been this excited about sex. He was desperate.

Finally Clara led him to her entrance and took him in. John closed his eyes and sank deeper into the pillows, giving himself completely to this new feeling.

"Clara," her name came out as strangled sound, "You've no idea how good you feel."

She started moving on top of him, riding him, taking him in deep while his hands wandered to her waist. There was nothing else in this world right now except him and Clara.

John thrust up to meet her, her walls so tight and hot around him that he was sure to lose his mind and the sounds she made, the way his name came over his lips, drove him straight to the edge. When her rhythm grew more frantic and her panting replaced the mantra she had made of his name John knew that he was close as well. Clara tightened around him as she came and John grabbed her waist hard, pulling her down on top of him until she took him in completely. He could feel the control slip away from him as he came, that instant of pleasure shooting straight through him as he cried out and spilled himself inside of her. After that there was nothing. Nothing but the sort of peace he hadn't felt in a very long time.