CHAPTER TEN
Authors Note: Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed and favourite/followed this story it's great to know people are enjoying and eagerly awaiting updates. Just to allay the fears of any spoilerphobes I have not read the new scripts for Doctor Who S8 so I won't be revealing anything here that isn't available in the teasers/trailers. I have also obviously decided to deviate from what is going to be the canon nature of Clara and the 12th's relationship which has been revealed teasingly in interviews from the World Tour. Although I'll admit I am interested to see how that will play out because I think it might also be glorious, if different, to what some Whouffle shippers hoped. And now without further delay, as you've been waiting so long for him to make an appearance goodbye Doctor no11... hello Doctor no12.
Cautiously Clara headed outside to survey the damage, there was debris and destroyed Daleks everywhere as slowly the villagers followed her lead. Her eyes were drawn to the clock tower which has been blown apart. "Doctor?" she called out, her mind searching frantically inside and out for him, her head pivoted in the direction she felt him... his TARDIS.
Her feet moved fast over the snow covered ground, tricky in the pencil skirt and blouse she'd worn for work this morning, her heels skidding as she ran to the doors, the external emergency telephone is hanging off the hook as she came to an ungraceful stop inches from the wooden surface. Clara lifted the receiver hesitantly, before replacing it on the hook and closing the panel. The Doctor was inside, but she hesitated not certain what would greet her, or who.
With trepidation she pushed open the door and headed inside. As she walked she past his discarded winter clothes, the heavy purple jacket she remembered him pulling on when they first set foot on this awful planet. Her eyes lingered on the nearly empty bowl of custard with a few fish fingers still sticking out of it with a feint feeling of hope. Footsteps drew her attention and she turned to the stairs, her heart in her mouth as he appeared... and it's him. Her heart was pounding now as she took in the ridiculous bow tie, the tweed jacket and the soft smile he seemed to reserve only for her.
"Doctor." She all but whispered, launching herself towards him, her relief palpable, in that moment she didn't care how or why, her brain can't process the enormity of it, all that she cares about is that he is still here.
He caught her in his arms, holding her close. "Clara, my Clara." He drops his head to hers and kisses her hair, rocking her gently, neither of them seeming to want to break the embrace.
Clara listened to the sound of his faltering heartbeat and her smile falls as she presses a hand to his and chest; golden energy reaches back for her and danced along her hand. "It's not over is it?" She whispers quietly, unable to hide her heartbreak, even for him.
"No my Love. This is just the reset." He replied turning to push some levers on the TARDIS console, setting them to flight, and she realised she didn't care where just so long as it was away from this godforsaken place. He turned back to her, his hands rising to capture her face in his, she closed her eyes as his lips pressed against hers and she tried to forget that this might well be for the last time. He pulled back reluctantly and his thumb lifted to trace her lips, before rising to wipe away the tears she couldn't stop. "I just wanted to do that one more time... like this, as me." He smiled gently at her and she nodded back, trying to smile back, not wanting to not make his last moments a wash of tears.
"He's coming." He pulled her closer and she nodded.
"I know. But he'll still be the Doctor. Have faith." She promised him, promised herself and he nodded 'even if he won't be my husband' she quashes the thought, unwilling to let him see it.
"You need to move away." He whispered against her skin still not releasing her from his arms and she realises he doesn't seem able to do it himself. It takes every bit of willpower she has to slip out of his arms, but even then his hand snakes out and catchers hers, drawing her gaze back to his as they stare back at one another. His entire body is glowing and she can feel the incredible energy dancing across her fingers, threatening to burn her with him.
"What if you're so different you forget me... forget yourself?" she gave in feeling her heart breaking as she admitted her fear, unable to keep it from spilling from her lips as she stood confronted by the moment.
"We're all different people, all through our lives. And that's okay, you've got to keep moving. But that's the trick Clara, to remember all the people that you used to be. I promise I won't forget one line of this. Not one day. I swear. I will always remember when the Doctor was me." But his smile his a heartbroken thing as their fingers separate and she is forced to back away into the console to put distance between her fragile human body and the spiralling energy he can't contain much longer.
"I love you." She promised. "I always will."
He nodded, smiling genuinely at the thought as he slowly pulls off his bowtie and stared at the strip of material before he let it slip through his fingers, fluttering to the floor, he raises his head his green eyes lit from behind with gold now, "And I will always love you. My Clara, my Impossible Girl... goodnight."
Those are his last words and she clapped her hand over her mouth in shock as his head jerked back violently and his heartbeat flat-lined in her mind, leaving her clutching her own chest in agony; but she kept her eyes fixed on the blinding white gold light. In less than a blink he was enveloped in it and then his head shot forward the light retreating and he's was just gone...
Her husband was gone. Her eyes widened as she was left to wonder if her Doctor remained?
A stuttering heartbeat started up behind her eyes and she felt the pain in her chest abate as it set itself to a new rhythm, to his rhythm; which meant they were bound still... but she was still too shocked to know how to feel about that, whether it was relief or terror. This man she didn't know but had her entire attention righted himself and instinctively she took a step back; her eyes lingering on his head of silver tight cropped hair as his eyes swivelled about the room until his eyes locked on hers, piercing blue now not green she notes, finding the difference unnerving. He stalked forward and she held her breath not knowing what to expect as he approached her, only to have him pull up short clutching his side..
"Kidneys!" he barked, his Scottish burr evident but no less a surprise. "I've got new kidneys." He stumbled towards her and she stepped back further into the console, not sure yet what to make of him as he came to a stop mere inches from her. "I don't like the colour." The statement is plain almost like he expects her to do something about that, but beneath it inside that intense stare she can see confusion and pain dancing across his features.
"Of your kidneys?" she asked quietly with trepidation, her eyes scanning his face looking for anything that reminded her of the man she married and finding nothing, not even the eyes. His hand reached out to touch her cheek, stealing her breath as his eyes widened fractionally as if in recognition.
Suddenly the TARDIS lurched to the side violently, steam escaped from the console and the lights shifted in colour. The new man, this new Doctor spun away from her to face the console.
"What's happening?" she shouted over at him in mild panic.
"We're probably crashing." He admitted his accent still jarring her.
"Into what?" she snapped not sure if she was angry or despairing in that moment as she made her shaky way to the console as he began to flip levers haphazardly and in what she recognised to be no sort of order.
"Stay calm." He instructed looking up over the console at her. "Just one question." He seems expectant, "Do you happen to know how to fly this thing?"
Clara gave the comment a beat, the unfamiliarity in it, before she lunged for the emergency controls and stabilisers, hoping to land the damn thing before it did indeed crash, and knowing her luck it would probably be somewhere unpleasant. He took a step back seemingly startled that she could indeed fly the 'damn thing'; somehow she didn't think his mental connections were firing on all cylinders yet, but then her hazy memory informed her that it had been a very fast regeneration transition moment; no wonder it had scrambled a few things. Thankfully the TARDIS seemed to be responding to her urgent and ill practiced ministrations as she landed with a thud that rattled her teeth, the bong letting her know they were down but not necessarily well. Clara glanced at the scanner, they were on Earth, it could have been worse, a lot worse.
Clara sighed slamming the parking brake on and turning back to the new Doctor; he was close, too close and she startled, almost shrinking back into the console as he stepped into further non-existent space between them. His eyes were narrowed and he was examining her again as if he only half recognised her, or didn't at all, which was more concerning.
"Doctor?" she asked gently and he quirked an eyebrow.
"Am I?" He replied quietly almost amused as he leant closer. "What are you?"
The question stung, particularly the 'what' of it rather than a 'who', but she focused on his most likely scrambled neurones, after all he'd forgotten the TARDIS too, of course it could take time to come back, he'd probably deleted half his languages too, maybe even cooking, who knows he might have gained dancing.. or balance.
"Clara." She replied calmly, his hand hovered again just off her face as if he wanted to touch her but had lost some of his earlier boldness, or perhaps he just wasn't sure if she'd bite. But this was her husband, she'd been convinced she'd lose him, if not the Doctor in the regeneration but his tripping heartbeat inside her mind reminded her otherwise, the bond as strong as ever. Which meant that face change or not, this was the man she'd loved and still did love somewhere inside this stern Scottish exterior; she reached down and gingerly touched his hand, wrapping her fingers around it. He flinched which she didn't take as the best sign and it took all of her nerve to keep her hand there.
"What do you remember?" she asked gently; trying to swallow down the grief for the man in the bowtie, the remnants of which still lay on the floor discarded but not forgotten.
"A millennia of war." Was his gruff somewhat abrupt response; she supposed a thing like that would probably stick in your memory, but his eyes were on their joined hands she noted with a faint flicker of hope at his confused expression, as his thumb seemed to brush quite apart from his conscious control over the back of her hand.
"I can probably help with that if you let me?" she offered and he quirked a rather substantial eyebrow at her, disbelievingly. "Do you remember regenerating?" she tried a simpler tack and his expression darkened.
"I'm a Time Lord suffering regenerative neuronal disconnect, I'm not brain damaged." He snarked and she nodded trying not to feel somewhat exasperated already, remembering that this was supposed to be a darker version of her Doctor. She might not have the luxury of time if their plan hadn't worked, which given as he didn't remember her, or that they were married was not looking too good right now. Images of what she had glimpsed in the Doctor's nightmares threatened to spill out and she hastily shoved them away, only the image of herself terrified and wide eyed with madness in a cell of his making lingered and she closed her eyes a beat. She would not become that, she would not let him do that to either of them.
With fixed resolve, Clara raised her hand to his face and looked for permission to reach out and touch him, he gave the barest of nods and she touched her left hand to his cheek, it was smoother than she imagined given the new lines, but having seen her husband so old barely ten minutes before he looked practically spritely. Her fingers rose to his temple and she leant in close until their gazes locked, but his mental barriers were solid, like a brick wall. "You need to let me in." She requested and he snorted in derision.
"I don't know you lass." There was just a hint of a threat in that she noted, seeing his eyes trail over her with what she thought might be suspicion.
"You also don't know the ship you've been piloting for the better part of 2,000 years; how about we just work with the notion that you don't know a whole hell of a lot at the moment." Ok so she couldn't help letting the exasperation seep through, but she needed to connect with him, if nothing else to get a sense of the nature of the man she was still bound to for the rest of her life, even if her human heart was still struggling to accept the concept of that now presented with it.
"Ooh feisty." He muttered, eying her with something close to interest.
"And your snarky." She added, "I'll forgive it given the regeneration."
He lifted an eyebrow seemingly trying to work out if she was serious or not, but she couldn't decipher any of his expressions they were all completely new and foreign to her, his face might as well have been a mask for all she could take from it. He slid closer and she inhaled as their chests almost bumped but she refused to step back.
"Clara wasn't it?" he asked, the smirk on his lips making her wonder if he was simply playing with her or if he was just trying to convince her that's what he was doing. "I don't know if I can trust you; don't even know if I can trust me yet." He replied clearly he hadn't lost any of his stubbornness she noted. However Clara glanced down, his hand was still wrapped around hers, gently stroking it; he followed her gaze and his brow furrowed clearly he got her point because he gave her a look that said it didn't prove anything as he deliberately released her hand.
"I'm your wife and your friend." She explained seeing his expressive eyebrows rise this time as his eyes widened in mild surprise that he was quick to cover with a scoff, apparently whatever he'd thought they were to one another, it clearly hadn't been that. His hand roughly grasped the one she still held resolutely to his face by the wrist and pulled it free, his eyes bore down into her as he seemed to search her face and his own memories for any hint of her.
"Prove it then lass. Kiss me like I'm your husband." His smirk was cruel she realised as she stared back at him, her eyes dropping fractionally to his lips as she wondered if she could. He was her husband, everything in her mind and heart which had been so affected by the Time Lord bonding ceremony tried to convince her of it... but she was also human, and her husband was not the man standing in front of her, he was the one she'd just watched die. But his expression was becoming more of a sneer and his grip on her wrist almost bruising. She had wanted him to trust her to open up to her and let her into his mind, perhaps if she was distracting enough, she might just get her wish, or maybe the kiss would spark a memory. Hesitantly she leant forward and he flinched, his eyes wide. Clara watched him with fascination, he hadn't expected her to comply she realised slowly trying to imprint the way he looked when surprised into her memory for later. Her free hand rose and slid around the back of his head into the light dusting of silver hair, it was softer than she imagined, but then he always did have great hair no matter the face, as she held him from retreating further. Their lips were inches apart and she saw his gaze drop to her lips for just a moment. Whatever he did or didn't remember, some part of him clearly wanted her to kiss him.
There was no more time for hesitation, she sensed him tensing, as if to bolt. Lifting onto her tiptoes Clara sealed the distance between them stepping into his body and pressing her lips firmly to his. He was rigid beneath her, his lips unresponsive as she gently caressed them with her own. When he failed to respond and his mind remained a closed and locked door, she redirected. Her lips traced down his jaw, behind his ear to his neck where she kissed gently. His hand released her wrist and she pressed her palm against his chest.
A new instinct overtook her and given as her heart and mind were a car wreck at the moment she chose to trust it as she gave into the desire to make this seemingly unflappable unfeeling version of him respond, to feel something. "Can't you feel our hearts in tandem?" she whispered, pressing her chest closer to his, her own heartbeat slightly wild and erratic with grief and a small amount of fear.
His hands were curled into fists at his sides she noticed, his back ramrod straight, light this she realised he was taller than he had been, slighter yet somehow he seemed to fill up the space in front of her more, like he drew every inch of your vision to him. But resistance screamed from him, although whether he was truly resisting her, or the Doctor's memories she wasn't sure. As she stared up into his pitiless blue eyes she was never more aware than in that moment feeling his hearts beating beneath her fingers with the feel of his hair, that this might well be the Valeyard. She couldn't accept that, she had to convince him to remember who he was; that was why she was here, what he'd trusted her to do. Her hands dropped to his clenched fists and she smoothed over them feeling them slacken slightly, as she raised them to her hips. He wasn't resisting her physically at least, not really, she took that as an encouraging sign.
"I'm yours remember." She offered him quietly, praying that the man before her would emerge the Doctor. Her hand slid up his chest and he watched the path of her touch with interest as it rose to his neck and gently she drew his head down further with gentle pressure until her lips could press against the shell of his ear. "And you are mine." She added, feeling his hands grip her waist firmly as she was pulled more closely against him and she knew he would be able to feel the tell tale increase in her heart rate, even if he was trying to deny their bond.
"Tell me Clara." He breathed his head turning so their lips almost brushed as he spoke as he seemed to relish the way her name sounded on his new tongue. "Am I a good man?"
Clara didn't blink, but her answer was careful as she felt the powerful rhythm of his new heartbeats against her, his grip vice like around her hips was almost bruising, it was like holding warm steel against her she realised. "I don't know." She answered quietly. "You were a good man. But I don't know this you yet."
His smile was thin. His hand left her hip and rose to her face where he caught her chin, turning her head gently from one side to the other as if inspecting her, before setting her gaze back on his; his thumb rose to brush over her lips, tracing the outline, her eyes didn't leave his, even though the sensation made her want to let them flutter shut and simply absorb the gentle touch. "Do you love me then?" he enquired "This man you don't yet know?"
Clara didn't dare move as his other hand rose from her hips to her lower back, pressing her closer into him as his leg slid between hers, trapping her thoroughly between him and the console. "I love my husband." Was her only response. "I love the Doctor." She added in Gallifreyan this time and she swore she saw a flicker of recognition spark to life behind his eyes as his finger left her lips and trailed down her throat slowly to her chest, then further until he reached her heart where he pressed his palm firmly over it.
"You're human?" He replied with what seemed like surprise, clearly her single heartbeat hadn't been what he was expecting, but she wasn't sure what to make of his expression, whether he found the idea abhorrent or exciting, the Doctor had always been cagey about what the Time Lords thought of interspecies marriages to supposedly 'lesser' beings and her memories had never supplied her with an answer, or perhaps she'd simply never wanted to look for it.
"Let me help you to remember." She pleaded pushing aside his question as she reached her hands up to cradle his face once more. "Let me show you everything." She insisted closing her eyes. She startled when his lips pressed against hers with firm pressure and her eyes snapped open onto his as he held her close.
"I thought I told my wife to kiss me like she meant it?" He gave her moments warning as his lips took hers again and where he had been unresponsive before she opened her mouth to his, exploring him more delicately then he seemed to want to explore her, until she had no choice but to respond with the same level of fervour as he sought to devour her. This side of her husband she remembered; this side of him she could control.
Her hands pulled at the tweed jacket, it was too large on his slightly thinner frame as she tugged it from his shoulders and let it fall to the floor as she pushed aside the bracers, sliding her hands into his shirt and discarding the buttons as she went. The moment her hands touched his flesh he bit down hard on her lip to restrain the gasp she was all too familiar with. The skin was new her fingers traced it with fascination until his hands caught hers, tugging them away and pinning them to his chest in one of his. She remembered this part of him too. Clara felt a flash of fear, she didn't know if she could trust this man like she had the man she'd married; he seemed to sense it, his eyes dancing with laughter as he broke their kiss and she scrambled for breath, her chest heaving her lips swollen beneath the force of his. But still his mind was a barrier she realised as his leg slid higher between hers until it brushed her sex tauntingly. Her startled expression clearly amused him, as she sucked in a breath and he lowered his lips to her ear and she focused on the smell of him, he smelled the same... exactly the same. Her head fell back as she gave into the feel of his hands tracing over her torso and down to her hips. If this was what it took for him to remember then she was happy to give it to him; if nothing else as the scent of him pervaded her senses, she could close her eyes and imagine it was the 'other' him.
"Have we done this often Clara?" He whispered that gruff accent of his ruining the illusion as his lips dropped to her neck and he bit down hard enough to mark. But the touch of him was almost enough to convince her broken heart that he might be the man she needed him to be, the man she'd just lost.
"Yes." She replied without hesitation as she felt the hard length of him press against her stomach still constrained by his clothing. His lips rose to hers again and she kissed him firmly closing her eyes as his hands rose until the sensible work blouse she'd worn this morning for the Hub was unceremoniously lifted over her head and discarded on the floor adding to the pile. It seemed like the man before her also had a weakness for her skirts, he didn't try and remove it, just hiked it up her bare legs his hands rounding to her ass where he squeezed firmly; his hips pressing against hers insistently. His expression was curious as she opened her eyes onto his, like he kept expecting her to push him away, to run or shudder in revulsion from his touch. He expected her to hate him she realised quietly, which meant there was clearly a memory sparking in there somewhere.
Boldness overtook her and she slid her hands to his lower back, pressing his hips more thoroughly against her centre, her lips falling open with the soft sound of a moan at the unexpected rush of arousal she felt. "I'm yours." She held his gaze, letting him see the promise in it as she captured one of his hands in hers and deliberately pushed it between her legs. "Show me you're still my husband." She levelled with a challenge all of her own this time.
His breath seemed to catch at the wetness she knew he'd find there as his fingers roughly pushed aside her underwear and she threw her head back at the touch of his long hard fingers against her. His mouth lowered to her throat and down, kissing a path to her bra, Clara didn't hesitate, unclasping it for him and tossing it aside so he could claim a breast with his mouth. Her moan against him was wanton as he rubbed her furiously setting a wild pace that had her thrusting her hips against him as his teeth teased her nipple. Memories of the last time they had done this coursed through her, a different man but his touch against her was the same she realised with elation. The dreamscapes she had invited for the past year had perhaps done nothing more than put her into a constant state of loss and set loose a deep un-sated yearning for his touch. She ran her fingers through his hair, savouring every second of contact his skin made, every starved neurone he fired with utter conviction.
Perhaps she should have felt like she was cheating on him, on a man who's clothes he was still mostly wearing, a man that had died to protect what he believed in. But he was still here; she couldn't grieve when he was still standing before her, his fingers sliding into her with insistent purpose, his mouth finding hers and kissing her like they'd really spent the past thousand years apart. He was in there, she was certain, it was just a little jumbled and lost, she'd help him find it.
Her hands fumbled with his trousers, trying to maintain a sense of control as he worked her to a fever point, her muscles clamping down around him and quivering as she let out a gasping cry as he pulled her close, his mouth finding hers again as if to swallow her orgasm. The barrier in his mind flickered for just a moment as he kissed her soundly and Clara recoiled at the turmoil within it with a sharp cry of pain. But just as he she had felt his thoughts, clearly he had felt hers and she felt him grasp for them, sliding into her mind, clutching at memories and feelings greedily until she was trying to force him out. "Stop." She pleaded, "Stop, too much, too fast, please." She heard herself plead inward and outward as he sought to devour her mind much as he had her mouth. Then he hit the wall of her Echo's and retreated with a hiss, as if he'd burnt his fingers and she sighed in relief against him as he clutched her head to his chest, his fingers stroking through her hair.
"Impossible girl." He whispered and she stilled, hearing it from him brought a shiver to her skin and she turned to look up at him, wondering if he remembered now, but she could still see the swirling madness behind his eyes as it fought to make connections to make him the man he would become. He wasn't done cooking yet, not by a long shot.
Their eyes locked as they both tried to figure the other out, but the air was thick with tension and her body was already screaming with the need to finish what he'd started, she might not be able to read his expressions yet, but she had no problem detecting the desire and lust as they darkened his eyes. In one swift movement he spun her around pressing her with force into the centre console his hand between her shoulder blades until she was bent over. She heard him free himself from the trousers she had already made a start on and in the next moment she felt the coolness of his skin against the back of her legs. "Hands." He growled and she didn't need to ask what he wanted, what he needed, trying to suppress her trembling, which was only partly in fear, she raised them above her head and clasping them together as she felt his hand encircle them; pinning her down and holding her fast. She wanted to trust this man, but trust was earned, which meant she needed to give him rope and hope he didn't hang himself with it.
"Did I do this often?" he rasped pressing a kiss to her neck as he leant over her letting her feel the full weight of him against her. "Fuck you against the console?" his spare hand traced the curve of her ass until he dipped once more between her legs, nudging them apart with his knees.
The vulgarity from him was a shock she hadn't expected but she found her body tightening in anticipation almost on reflex as she glanced back at him, seeing the same anticipation on his face, the clear lust, but also the confusion as he fought his own memories. "No." She breathed, recalling only once with his last face against the console in desperation, their last time together, she wondered if that was the point, if he was trying to replace her last memory of them together. His eyebrows rose in delight however at her answer but his eyes drifted to hers as if waiting for her to elaborate, swallowing she took a breath, "You used to like to fuck me against the doors." It wasn't the way she'd usually speak but he seemed to enjoy it, as his gaze followed hers behind him to those same doors, the small smirk drifting to his lips either at the memory or her use of the word 'fuck' she wasn't quite sure which as she tried to find common ground with him. But memories seemed to spark behind his eyes, as a softness she'd yet to see on his face overtook it for one fleeting moment as he stroked her hair away from her face, staring at her curiously.
"Or on kitchen counters," He chuckled softly and she tried to hold on to that memory of their first time but he continued flooding her with more, "on the floor, in the corridors, the pool..." and she held her breath as the memories seemed to reach him as his hand traced the back of her thighs. "Did we ever make the bed?" his voice rumbled against her spine and she arched beneath him, both at the memory and at his touch.
"Sometimes." She breathed, willing him to remember their gentler moments as he held her whilst she slept, her mind reaching out for his and offering him those memories, but he pushed them away. She felt the hardness of him brush against her centre and she couldn't help but push back, wanting to feel more of him; to give him this and let him reclaim himself as he claimed her.
"He wouldn't like me touching you." He rasped and she stilled beneath him, his words drawing a shiver, because he sounded far too delighted by the notion, far too detached from the man he'd been. "Wouldn't like the way your breath hitches when I touch you, the flare of heat to your skin... the way your mouth parts and your eyes close at the sound of my voice as it rumbles down your senses." She gasped as he demonstrated far too well.
"He is you." She reminded. "He can't be jealous of himself." It was an all too frequent argument of theirs and one she suspected might continue.
"Am I him though?" he queried and she stared back at him, his grip on her joined hands tightening and pulling at her arms slightly in a way that was just a touch uncomfortable. "What if I'm something else?" he asked and she examined him as close as she could from her glancing position, listening to the feel of his breathing, of his hearts beating deep inside her mind, the touch of his hand against her lower back, gentle but insistent as his hardness brushed between her thighs. They were at a precipice she realised, dancing on the edge. But she couldn't push him, only catch him, the leap was all his own.
"You're my husband." She sighed, "I promised you I would love you always, whatever you choose." 'But please choose him, choose the Doctor' she pleaded quietly to herself, because she honestly wasn't sure if she could hold up her end of the bargain given the alternative.
"Clara." He whispered as he pushed inside of her, stretching and filling her as she tightened reflexively around him, her forehead dropped to the console as her body welcomed him and his new girth in a way she wasn't sure her heart was quite ready for. "My Clara." He sighed in contentment as he sunk deep into her until the back of her thighs touched the front of his, "Always so perfect." He murmured as he thrust slowly into her, pushing in and sliding almost all the way back out holding her fast against the console from behind as he left her gasping at the new sensations he was able to evoke. Perhaps there was more to this idea of a regenerating Time Lord becoming whatever they felt would keep their mate beside them; because whilst sex between them had always been mind blowing, she felt that this version of him might not need his mind tricks at all. His hand slid around her, pressing her more firmly into him as he found her clit working it furiously and leaving her almost breathless beneath him as he kept to his maddeningly slow deep thrusts that seemed to reach the spot inside of her with every stroke. His lips latched onto a point behind her ear as his hand found erogenous points on her body she was certain she'd never realised could illicit such a toe curling response. The urge to touch him was intense, to see him, to know what her cries and responses were doing to him, but his grip was hard against her hands, keeping her held fast, his body weight pinning her into console as he drove into her almost feverishly in near silence giving her no clue as to what if anything he was feeling.
"Come for me my darling girl." His voice rasped against her cheek and she arched beneath him at the sensation as it flooded her, the utter want in his voice giving her the context she craved and reminding her of exactly who was doing this to her.
She came hard beneath him unable to do anything but give him what he wanted in that moment, as her body all but gave in, until she collapsed against the console her legs losing their ability to support her as she struggled to calm her wildly beating heart as his slow almost languid thrusts continued to leave her quivering. "Doctor." She cried out, but she had no idea what she was pleading for, the sensations were intense as he seemed to draw them out of her again, she didn't know if she wanted him to stop or never to. He seemed to know what she needed better than she did as he finally released her hands and slipped out of her spinning her around and stepping back between her legs; without hesitation she wrapped them tightly around his hips, not caring about the levers or doohickeys pressing into her back as he pushed into her once more. She stared up at him wordlessly, his face inches from hers revealing himself to her as she could finally see more in his eyes than mere lust as he slid into her again from this new angle, his breaths almost as ragged as hers as he brushed her cheek with his thumb delicately, the smile gracing his lips was so soft and genuine that she could see the man she'd married shining back at her for just a moment. Then his mouth found hers and she captured his groan of contentment as his pelvis pushed against hers just right; reminding her again that they fit too well... made for each other.
Clara's eyes opened wide in shock as she realised she was building up again, she clutched at her hair arching her back and letting him claim her breasts heedlessly as she pulsed around him, her body starting to strain with the effort. He might have been older but his control over his peripheral blood system seemed superior she noted as he continued his thrusts, letting them become harder, faster into her, her heels dug into the backs of his thighs, urging him closer still as he ground his pelvis down into her clit, not even needing his hands as they worked her breasts until her nipples were all but his.
Then his mind pushed into hers and she was screaming, her body lost in a sea of pleasure and stimulation so intense she feared it might drive her insane. She remembered what the Doctor, her Doctor had said, the things she'd seen in his mind and couldn't help but wonder if this was what had driven that defunct future version of her mad? Her body was in overload as she bucked against him all but wild as she felt him reach his own climax, his pleasure only feeding hers and sending her crashing into blackness.