"Well, that was unexpected." She commented mildly, not sure what to say. As she looked around, she noticed the huge TV, which caught her attention. She hadn't seen a TV in six months. She and Holly shared their Netflix account so they didn't see the need to buy a TV. Then she saw the paintings and smirked at him.
"Didn't know you had an eye for art." She walked to the paintings, observing them closely. They were beautiful. When she was about to ask, she noticed his name at the bottom. "Oh. You are a painter. What other talents do you have? Don't tell me you play the guitar and piano as well?"
John raised his eyebrow at her, fiddling with his cuff links out of nerves. He grinned, winked at Clara and then pointed to his right, where his apartment stretched down the hallway. He took her hand and led her away from the paintings to another bigger room where a white piano sat in the corner by a much larger window; he had a red electric guitar to accompany it.
"My mother sent me to boarding school and I taught myself to play guitar, piano, sing and paint whenever I got bored. Wasn't one for having friends when I was a kid."
"Really?" She squeezed his hand and leaned into him, head resting on his shoulder. She couldn't imagine him not having any friends, he was so charismatic, it was hard not to like him. She looked at the piano and the guitar and chuckled. "You are basically an arts prodigy. I am absolutely impressed, really."
John turned his head to look at Clara, his fingers interlocking with hers. He wasn't paying any attention to his piano or guitar, he just wanted to look at her. The dim light in the room shone on Clara's face and he couldn't help the faint smile on his face, she was so incredibly beautiful. He let go of her hand, winked at her and then disappeared into his bedroom. He walked back out in plaid trousers, a white shirt, a long black coat and a pair of black tinted glasses on his face. John grinned at Clara playfully and skidded past her, picking up the red guitar as he began to play a song he knew of but couldn't remember what it was called.
She waited for him when he suddenly disappeared but it gave her time to look around the room but once he came back, she couldn't help smiling at him. What the hell was he wearing? She had no idea but she liked it. He looked like an aging rock star and those glasses were perfect for him. She listened to him play as she reclined against the piano, a smile on her face. He was beautiful. If he could just stand there like that forever. Looking so peaceful, so at ease. She had the distinct urge to hug him but she didn't dare do it as he played. The song tugged at her heartstrings and she couldn't help but wipe a tear aside. She had always been a sap for emotive music and movies in general.
John closed his eyes, leaning his head back as he walked around his apartment, playing his guitar. He found music so beautiful. Just as he was finishing his song, he took off his glasses and locked eyes with Clara. He smiled fondly at her, placed down the guitar and joined her at the piano, his fingers brushing the keys as his arm nudged hers.
"That was beautiful." Clara told him as he came back, but then he was at the piano, expertly playing with the keys and she let out a dreamy sigh. This was only something that happened in movies. She was far too ordinary for this to be happening to her. "John?" She asked when he nudged her.
John stopped playing and turned to Clara, raising both of his eyebrows, "Yes, Clara?" He said, hands moving from the keys and onto his lap. God, she was beautifully stunning.
She smiled and reached up to kiss him softly on the lips. She had wanted to do that since she saw him waiting for her outside the restaurant. He was just so irresistible and she couldn't contain her desire any longer. She pulled back and smiled shyly at him. "Keep playing, yeah?"
John kissed Clara back gently, her lips on his felt like nothing he had before. Not even with River. Clara had the spark he was always missing. John smiled fondly at her and turned to play the piano, his fingers gracefully running along the keys. She looked at him a while longer, observing how his fingers just know which keys to press. His face looked different also, eyes cast downwards looking at the keys, completely relaxed. She liked this relaxed version of him, hell, she'd even take his controlling version. She was certain that if he decided to look at her while she was gazing at him longingly, he'd know how smitten by him she really was. John sat closer to Clara, letting loose on his piano. Music always soothed him, it did when his mother had left him in boarding school. He chewed his lower lip and his head dropped, his eyes casting towards the woman in front of him. He found that she was staring at him too and he could have sworn his heart had jumped.
They were incredibly close already but she still wanted to be closer while still listening to his music. She wrapped her arms around his waist from the side, careful not to interrupt him and rested her head on his shoulder, but not before kissing said shoulder. She knew he couldn't feel that kiss but it was the intention that counted.
John's smile turned into a big shit eating grin, his heart racing as he carried on playing until he finished his song, resting his hands on his knees. He was breathing heavily but for once, his muscles were relaxed. He quietly starting to sing, "She's the tear in my heart..."
She pulled back a little and stared at him with an amused expression. "Twenty One Pilots, really, Mr. Smith? You are such a romantic." She teased slightly but her heart was hammering in her chest. That was one of her favourite songs, among others but she liked the rhythm and the simplicity of that song.
John laughed and threw his head back, his loud laughter filling the room. John tilted his head to the side, watching Clara with a certain admiration he couldn't pin point. "I am incredibly romantic, my Clara.." He trailed off, playing the tune to 'Tear in my heart' to her.
Her heart leapt when he said 'my Clara', only because he was implying she was his. Could she ever be his? She didn't think so. He could have any woman he wanted, like the ones from the paintings or any model. It felt a little unrealistic of her to think he would want her in any other way. Maybe this was all a show...or maybe it wasn't. Either way, she decided to enjoy it and think later. "Well, if you sing it'll be better." She nudged him gently with her elbow, just wanting to hear his singing voice.
John laughed and shook his head, "No more singing..." He told her quietly and then stood up, taking Clara's hand as he led her back towards the paintings. He pointed at the painting of River, "This is River," he paused and pointed to a blonde, letting go of Clara's hand as he walked towards the painting.
"This is Rose," he then walked to another painting behind the wall and took out a large canvas. It was a beautiful painting of Clara, but she was much, much younger and she was naked. He swallowed, having no idea how she would react. He just wanted her to know he had been thinking about her all this time.
She was a bit disappointed but didn't show it. Maybe another time she would get the chance to hear him sing. Seeing the paintings, she could tell that maybe he had a thing for blonde women; however, the last painting caught her by surprise. She stood still and her hands went immediately to her mouth, she looked at him with her big brown eyes. "That's...that's me." She said tracing softly a finger on the canvas. She looked at him, her eyes questioning. "You did this from memory. I..." She laughed nervously. "I love it, yeah! Have you...been thinking about me this whole time?"
John looked at her, blue eyes sparkling with a certain cheekiness and happiness, "Yeah, I did it from memory," he lifted it and gently placed it onto the wall. John turned to Clara and leaned close to her, his voice in her ear, "I always thought about you, Clara Oswald..."
She raised her hands hesitantly to his shirt, playing with the buttons and looking at them instead of him. She was feeling quite shy again. Damn this man, who could reduce her to a shy, obeying mess. "But I was just some 20...well, 21, it had been like two weeks since my birthday...anyway, I was young...why would you have been thinking about me? Did I make such a good impression?" She chuckled nervously, only now daring herself to look at him.
John towered over her in height, his eyes stuck on her. He wanted to spend every moment of this night with her. He chewed his bottom lip, "I thought you were so beautifully addicting, Clara…" He whispered; his hand on Clara's cheek, "You made a six year lasting impression, my Clara..."
"Oh, John, don't say things like that, you are going to make my cry and I hate crying." She said softly and buried her head on his chest. "I thought about you as well-" she began. "And I always wondered why you never left your phone number...or an email...tried looking you up on Facebook." She moved now to his back pockets, putting her hands inside them. "I never found you on Facebook."
John wrapped his arms tight around Clara, his chin resting on the top of her head. He kissed into her hair, breathing in her scent. She even still smelt the same. "I thought it would be for the best but it really wasn't..." He sighed and then paused; he took Clara's hand and took her into the bathroom. "But there's something you should know about me, Miss Oswald..." He sighed and opened his cabinets to a bunch of bottles full of tablets; for Bipolar disorder.
She let herself be led and when he opened his cabinets, she gulped. Walking forward, she read the label of some of them and recognised that they were used to treat Bipolar Disorder. She loomed at him over her shoulder and smiled at him a little. "It's okay. I don't have quite the arsenal of pills but I do have Xanax." She walked up to him and cradled his rugged face between her tiny, soft hands. "We are all a bit fucked up. Those pills or your disorder are not going to scare me away. You can't get rid of me that easily, I'm afraid."
John frowned, his eyes searching Clara's. "I don't want to get rid of you, Clara..." He told her, his lips inches from hers. "I just want to make sure you know what my life entails..." He said, his hands reaching up to touch her face, his knuckles stroking her cheek. God, she was perfect.
The brush of his knuckles against her cheek made the hairs at the back of her neck stand up to attention. "Paparazzi's, CEO, Bipolar Disorder, awesome skills in the piano and guitar, great painter, a sweet gentleman, a controlling and demanding man...but most importantly, a caring man..." She kissed him softly and whispered against his perfect thin lips. "I know exactly what it entails, I believe."
John breathed against Clara's lips, his hand on her face before he pushed her back against the wall and kissed her hard, his heart pounding. She was so perfect and she had no idea. His hands roamed over Clara, a blush creeping up his neck. He had never felt like this around any other woman. She returned the kiss but let him control as he had her pinned against the wall. Clara let her know with her kiss and her caresses along his neck, back and chest how much she wanted him, desired him and how much she wanted to be with him. She hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt, careful not to break it as her hands slowly made contact with his pale chest. John growled against Clara's lips, biting down on her bottom lip to open her mouth. His tongue danced with hers, fingers on her shirt as he yanked it over her head and threw it on the floor. He unclipped her bra, hands roaming over her breasts and back as he kissed her harder than he had in his office.
She moaned when he touched her breasts, the touch sent a wave of pleasure straight to her core. This felt different than in his office. It didn't feel calculated and hurried. She briefly thought that he was using this as a way to channel his emotions, not that she was complaining. Noting that she was still thinking, she got herself more into the kiss, battling with him for dominance as she pushed him back to remove his shirt from his slim figure. John groaned loudly into Clara's mouth, his hand reaching up to pull a handful of her hair. John yanked his own shirt off, helping Clara. He lifted her into his arms, breaking their kiss as he trailed kisses down Clara's neck, carrying her out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. Soon all of their clothes were off and the two of them were messing around in his bed.
John groaned loudly, moving his hips as he pushed her head down. His own head fell back against his pillow, his blue eyes locking with hers. He pulled himself out of her mouth and pushed her down onto her front, adjusting himself behind her. "You fucking beauty," he growled into her ear, pushing himself inside of her.
A long string of saliva came out of her mouth when he pulled out of it and she couldn't even wipe it out because she was suddenly pushed onto her front on the bed. This man clearly had a lot of stamina for his age. "Oh yess." Was all she could moan as he pushed inside her, her head to the side as she gripped the bedsheets.
John reached around and wiped Clara's face for her, knowing she wouldn't be able to do it herself. He grinned and started to move his hips in a quick motion, his arm around her neck to steady himself over the top of her, his lips kissing the back of Clara's neck as he growled into her ear, "Good girl..."
She gripped the bedsheets tighter. This position allowed him to go deeper than before and he always hit her g-spot this way. She started moaning and screaming a little every time he hit that spot. "Right there, John, oh fuck."
John picked up the pace, a hand in Clara's hair as he sat up slightly and pulled Clara up with him, "How's that, baby?" He asked her, his Scottish accent low in her ear.
She had to bite her lip to stop herself from screaming. She knew he had neighbours but fuck, all she wanted to do was scream because he was fucking her so good. She was about to answer his question, his sexy Scottish accent turning her on even more when he reached up and slapped her breasts, catching her unaware. She yelped in pain but that pain quickly turned into pleasure. That was new. "Mmm, that's so good, daddy." She hoped he could keep them both upright because her legs were already giving out and so was she. Her orgasm was there, knocking on the door, as they say.
John grinned and pushed himself all the way inside of Clara until he was hitting her g spot. He stayed where he was, refusing to move his hips. He growled under his breath, hand still vice gripping her hair. He let go and reached his hand in-between her legs and held his hand in front of her face as he leaned over and growled into Clara's ear, "Do you want to taste yourself, baby?"
Clara had never done that sort of thing. In fact, when she saw porn videos, she thought it was in poor taste. But now she reconsidered. Either it was the fact that she was horny as fuck and John was the one fucking her, or the fact that she thought if she tasted herself he could start freaking moving. Without saying a word, she nodded.
John smirked and nibbled on Clara's earlobe, his fingers in her mouth as he started to move his hips again, "Good girl," he growled, his eyes closing as he nuzzled his face into her neck.
Her taste was quite sweet and kind of weird, but enjoyable nonetheless. She moved her hips a little, craving the friction as one of her hands moved to the back of his head. "Fuck me hard because I'm so goddamn close." She panted. He had been leaving her on edge since the restaurant and she was already going crazy.
John slowly moved inside of Clara, taking his time. He kissed down the length of her neck, leaving harsh hickeys on her skin as her hand reached up to the back of his head. "Be a good girl for daddy and scream my name," he told her, growling into her ear as he pushed her down roughly, turning her head to the side on his bed as his hand kept her down, moving his hips so fast and hard against her he would be surprised if she didn't cum straight away.
After a few more thrusts, she came and since she wanted to be a good girl, she screamed his name as requested. Not that she had a choice, even if he hadn't told her that she would've had done it. She slumped on the bed, completely out of breath, her legs turning to jelly.
John came a few minutes after Clara, groaning loudly and growing her name. He fell down beside her, fully pulling out of her as he laid down, face red and hair a mess as he rested his arms behind his head, "Holy shit..."
Clara just closed her eyes, she hadn't move from her position. "Indeed." She panted, she had never been this tired after sex. "I really can't feel my body." She half-joked. She felt her body, alright, but she doubted she could walk out of this room.
John laughed and stood up, his chest heaving. He pulled on his boxer shorts and moved Clara to sit her up, holding onto her hand as he helped her stand, "Might be a bit of a problem if you can't walk..." He told her, a smirk on his face.
She held onto his arm, trying to steady her legs. She scolded at him but she wasn't angry. She just had the best sex in her life, how could she be mad at him? "I'll manage, I think." She said stubbornly as she walked in unsteady legs, like a drunk, towards the room where the piano was in to look for her clothes.
John covered his mouth with his hand, trying his very best not to laugh. "Watch the door, darling!" He shouted and then walked after her. "Are you sure you're okay?"
She flipped him off without even looking back and bent to pick up her underwear, which was effectively torn in one side and she held it up to him so he could see it. "You rip my underwear off or keep it to yourself again, I will hit you."
John only laughed harder when she flipped him off and walked up to Clara, an evident smirk on his face, "You can't reach me to smack me."
Since her underwear was no longer of use, she put it on top of the piano and reached for her skirt, putting it on and then she put on her bra as she turned to look at him. "You've sunk low enough for me to reach." She winked at him. Of course she really didn't mean that, it was just a witty reply.
John grinned playfully at Clara and stood face to face with her, "Witty, intelligent and beautiful…"
"Thank you." She said as she caught her top and slipped it on.
"Do you know where my shoes are?" She asked as she caressed his chest and belly, her hands darting down to his boxers and back up at him. He was just so goddamn handsome.
John pretended to wince, "Outchies!" He whined, his blue eyes shining. He pouted down at Clara like a puppy would. Then a giant smirk spread across his face, "Going somewhere?" He questioned her with a frown, he had seen her shoes out of the corner of his eye, but he wouldn't tell her that yet. John wanted her to stay all night.
"Well, I thought that...well-" she scratched her hair. "I don't know what I thought, honestly. I just...well, I..." She laughed nervously and crossed her arms over her chest. "Do you want me to stay?"
John glanced from Clara's eyes to her lips, his hand resting on her arm, his voice quiet, "Of course I want you to stay, I'm not embarrassed to walk into work with you tomorrow on my arm."
She looked at him with confusion. Was he joking? She nodded slowly, confused. "Alright, John. I'll stay. We'll talk about us walking together to work in the morning. You still have to take me home so I can get a change of clothes." She wasn't sure he was in his right mind at the moment.
John took Clara hand, a fond smile on his face as he kneeled down by his wardrobe and pulled out a simple black dress and threw it at Clara, "This was River's. You can wear it tomorrow morning."
She smirked at him. She still didn't know who River was, a former lover most likely, but she did have nice taste. "Thanks but I still need my make-up and underwear, thank you very much." She raised an eyebrow at him, willing him to understand that she actually needed to pass by her house. She needed to tell Holly so she wouldn't get all mad or something.
John sighed, looked at his watch and nodded, "Okay, here's the plan. My driver takes you back to yours, collect your stuff and he'll take you straight back here. Deal?"
She beamed at him and kissed his cheek. "We've got a deal." To be honest, that was a better plan than the one she had in mind. Why didn't she think of it sooner? Possibly because she was distracted by his naked torso and by how good he looked in his boxers... Yes, that was it.
John winked at Clara and slapped her ass gently as she walked out of his flat, "Be careful!" He yelled and smiled fondly to himself. He turned on his heel and went back to his piano, playing it calmly until Clara returned.
She returned with a bag of clothes which only contained her pyjamas, make-up, the clothes she would wear tomorrow and of course, her hair straightener and toiletries. She was certain her hair was messed up. She knocked on his door once she had arrived. It felt weird walking around without underwear and she was certain everyone could tell she had sex, mainly because she was feeling very chipper.
John moved away from his piano, practically skipping towards the door. He opened the door and smirked down at Clara, he hadn't realised just how incredibly small and tiny she was, it was adorable. He beamed at her, "Clara!"
She had her bag slung over her shoulder and she gave him a big smile, she was practically bouncing on her feet. "John!" To anyone close, they probably looked like two lunatics, grinning at each other's like fools. She was happy to be back with him. She smirked up at him. "Can I come in?"
John laughed and opened the door wider, "Shouldn't even have to ask," he told her, closing the door behind her once she was inside.
She went inside and shrugged. "I think it's polite to ask. Now, where do I put this?" She asked. She didn't wanted to assume that she could put her things in his room, just in case he told her to taker the guest room, in case he had one and she was certain that he did. She wanted to save herself some possible embarrassment.
John laughed, grinned at Clara like an idiot and took her bags from her. He walked into his bedroom and put them on the floor, jumping onto the bed as he laid on his back in just his boxers. She followed him as he walked to his bedroom, relieved that he had taken the initiative.
She looked at him as he laid there, comfortable like a king who had gotten what she wanted. She chuckled and shook his head at him. "You look like someone who just got what he wanted." She said as she bent to take her night clothes from the bag and her liquid soap.
John grinned up at Clara, watching her walk around the room, "I'm John Smith, I always get what I want," he winked in her direction and placed his hands behind his head.
"Oh, yeah?" She stopped by the door, just about to exit to go to the bathroom. "And I'm Clara Oswald. If I want to, I can decide to not give you what you want from now on for being an arrogant twat." She stuck her tongue at him and left for the bathroom, trying to ignore how fucking good he looked with his hands behind his head.
John laughed loudly, a toothy grin on his lips, "Oh, my darling, you can't resist..." He shouted to her, smirking to himself. He wondered if she would come and prove it to him.
She came out of the bathroom, her dirty clothes folded. Her hair was still the same but she had brushed it a bit. She was wearing a grey, long sleeved shirt and white shorts with knee high socks. She knew it wasn't a sexy outfit but she always aimed for comfort when she went to sleep. She put her clothes inside a plastic bag she had brought and put them inside, then crawled over to him as he laid in bed. "You are right. I can't resist. I'll just chose when to not give you what you want."
John took in what she was wearing, a clear smirk on his face. God, she was adorable and drop dead gorgeous all at the same time and the knee high socks were doing something to him they never did on any other woman. He groaned and pulled the cover out from underneath him, for when Clara got into bed. "Yes mam,"
She settled on top of him, her hands laced over his chest as she rested her chin on top of them. "You are so tall." She commented out of the blue then she decided to straddle his lap and look down at him as she raced the contours of his torso with her small hands. "So tell me, Mr. Smith, what do you normally do when you get home?"
John smiled up at Clara, his hands on her sides. His fingers stroked either side of her body, "I sit at my desk and answer emails and get everything ready for the next day. I eat, drink some Whiskey, write a few songs on my guitar or piano and then I go to bed, pretty boring, actually."
"It is pretty boring." She conceded. "But necessary. All that you have left to do is answer some emails, I think, hmm?" She leaned over him, now tracing the lines on his face lovingly. She loved them, she always had. She never had been pretty interest in men her age mainly because they looked so young...she liked her men seasoned and with experience.
John shook his head, "I'd rather spend my entire night with you," he told her confidently, a sweet smile on his face as his hand reached up to stroke her cheek, admiring how beautiful she really was.
"Well, you can bring your laptop to bed. I think I will sleep shortly. Someone basically fucked my life-force out of my system and I'm kind of tired." She covered a yawn and moved off of him, taking the other side of the bed. "I'll curl up next to you if you don't want to feel alone. She suggested as she brought the covers up to her chin.
John leaned over and grabbed his laptop, placing it on his lap as he began to look and reply to his email, "Perfect," he muttered happily, sending her a smile as he let Clara cuddle up to him.
Clara's forehead was touching his shoulder and she had an arm wrapped around his torso while her legs were wrapped around his, seeking warmth. She always got cold at nights. She observed quietly what he was doing as her eyes started to close. She yawned softly. "You work and write pretty fast. Almost as fast as me."
John smirked down at Clara, shuffling closed to her. "Almost as fast? Please, I'm the best." He grinned, his arrogance shining through. He typed incredibly fast, trying to finish his emails. He was emailing a potential model for tomorrow's photoshoot on the new clothing line John had created.
"You really are not." She said softly and kissed his shoulder. He was an arrogant twat, alright, but she wouldn't have him any other way. She didn't ask what exactly was he doing, if she needed to know, he'd tell her. She wasn't particularly curious, not when she was lying in the most comfortable bed she had ever laid on, while cuddling this handsome sex god.
John finished off his emails and placed down his laptop, turning it off. He laid next to Clara, his head turning to face her, "Hello, you."
"Hello." She whispered softly opening her eyes a little. "Aren't you even a little bit tired?" She brought her hand up to his face, traced his left eyebrow, then thread it through his hair.
John reached out and touched Clara's arm, stroking it with one of his fingers, "I'm not a very good sleeper…" He admitted, letting out a sigh as he moved his leg against Clara's.
She frowned and forced her eyes open. "Insomnia?" She questioned. Poor man, awfully successful and with a fuck ton of problems. "Anyway I can help?"
John chewed his bottom lip, "Insomnia," he confirmed and then looked at Clara, taking in her entire appearance. "Looking at you helps me..."
"Oh." She smiled sadly at him and kissed the tip of his nose. "How does that help, really? What if I give you a massage? Would that relax you even a little bit?" Clara no longer felt as tired as she was before. She always liked caring about people and if she could take care of him in this small way, then she would.
John shook his head, his blue eyes trained on hers, "No, no. I just want to talk and look at you, Clara Oswald…" he trailed off, his hand reaching up to push a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I can see myself falling in love with you, you know."