PART 2

Thank you for the reviews. I was always going to update this, but I wasn't sure when I would get around to it so I placed it as a one-shot. You can thank the bad winter weather for part two and soon part three. I've had a few extra snow days where we had to cancel filming, and because of the poor roads I couldn't make it over to my love's place. Any feedback and/or suggestions are always appreciated.

The tension was unbearable. He wanted to die—no regeneration, just death. The Doctor tucked himself quietly back in his trousers and shuffled his feet away from the glow of Clara's computer screen. With careful steps, he made his way into the bathroom doorway.

"Angie, Artie?" Clara sat up and squinted, blinded by the fluorescent glow. Her hair fell around her face, pieces tangled and twisted. She fiddled under the covers until the buzz stopped. "Close your eyes, I need to grab my robe." Clara pulled back the covers and darted to the bedroom door. Her short, nude colored slip glistened against the light. The color only aided to his cause. He could imagine her nude figure—thanks primarily to Mr. Clever. He spent his time interacting with Clara across the chess table while imaging himself doing only various sexual things to her. He shook his head and stomped his foot quietly in protest. He pointed at himself and frowned.

"No!" He mouthed silently to his lower half.

The bedroom door creaked open. The Doctor winced. He should have announced himself to her from the start, that's what he, the Doctor would have done, right? If the week hadn't been so agonizing, he would have pounded on the door playfully—not caring if he awoke the children. He walked further into the bathroom in search for a place to hide. He wished his screwdriver offered teleportation. He'd send himself back to the Tardis and disappear, never seen by Clara again. He immediately took back the thought though. His infatuation advised against it.

He silently wished a Dalek would strike him down. That didn't sound like a half bad way to go right about now. How stupid of him not to close and lock that door? The buzzing sound in her bed was the first of too many unsettling distractions. By Clara's prolonged silence he knew she had noticed the door by now.

"Hello?" Clara mumbled and turned on the bedroom light. She stood beside her bed and looked around the room. He didn't dare breathe. She closed the computer and with a huff she removed her robe and let it fall to the floor.

"Clara!" The Doctor playfully slid into view. He clenched his teeth and waved his arms about playfully. He hadn't noticed she had undressed again. "Clara..." He said a more suggestively as he gawked.

"Wha-Doctor!?" Clara yelped. He had surprised her, like a deer in headlights. As she recovered, her face flushed tomato red. She whirled around and stared at her bed. Sticking out from the sheets were a blue vibrator. "How long have you been in here?" She bent down and grabbed her robe. She pulled the sheets over the vibrator to hide it.

"Oh—ahh—not long. It's Wednesday."

"Wednesday?" She hesitated until the dots connected and she remembered their meet up. She brushed his comment aside. "No, when did you let yourself in?"

"While you were mastur—" The Doctor slapped his hand across his mouth.

"Doctor!" Clara darted to the other side of her bed, horrified.

"Sleeping! The Master!" The Doctor pointed at her with pride for his quick save.

"The who?"

"Never mind that—what a lovely bathroom you have!" He waved his screwdriver about and did his best to change the topic. He turned on the bathroom light.

"Do you know how late it is, Doctor?"

"The tiles, lovely color—remodel, addition, former maids quarters?" He analyzed the pink and green tiles with his sonic.

Clara had placed her robe back on. She leaned against the doorway with her arms crossed, head cocked, and an annoyed expression plastered across her beautiful face.

"Mind if I get back to sleep?"

She had hardly been asleep. He stopped his analysis and nodded in defeat. "I should have waited until morning." He arched forward awkwardly to hide his erection. He lowered his head and held back the urge to grab her and kiss her like he had Grace Holloway in California. Unlike Grace, he wanted to feel all of Clara.

Clara looked at him with empathy. He questioned if he'd die from a leap out of her bedroom window to the pavement below. He had his doubts.

"Doctor." She stepped forward, and shook her head. "You can come back in the morning." He could feel the warmth of her body close to him. She leaned up and straightened his bow tie and removed a piece of lint from his shoulder. He held his breath as she rolled up the balls of her feet and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek goodnight.

He turned and captured her lips against his own. The kiss was brief. Guilt washed over and away—replaced with passion and need. He studied Clara to gauge his options. He anticipated possibly being slapped, or punched—even kneed.

"Clara." He exhaled—his voice barely more than a whisper and thick with lust. This was cruel of him to do this, but he had no more fight for resistance. Mr. Clever or his own dark thoughts—this was his decision and his actions.

His heavy eyes traveled down the side of her body and stopped at the opening in her robe that revealed the base of her slip. He reached his hand out and touched her waist. He stared at the trim of cream lace against her milky skin.

"Doctor?" Her face flushed. That was not a goodnight kiss.

"Did I do alright?" He jutted her jaw out as he pondered for a moment. He shamelessly avoided her eye contact. The kiss—while brief—intentional, not overly forceful, but meaningful. If he had calculated the angle and duration—based on her arousal, confusion, and the hopeful dash that she had already been imagining him between her thighs—yes, he had kissed her appropriately.

"Is this alright?" Clara fumbled. She moved her hands back and forth between the two of them. With his nod of approval, her arms reached up and her fingers wove and tangled into his hair. She pulled his head down and kissed him with passion. He wiggled at first, still trying to hide his erection from her. He let his screwdriver fall into the ceramic sink bowl. She took the kiss deeper as he opened his mouth to let out an exasperated grunt.

She stepped forward and arched her body forward. His arms wrapped around her back and pulled her close. She sighed and pressed her hips against his pelvis. There was no more hiding it. He groaned with desire and pulled down one strap from her slip. To his dismay she pulled back and examined him for a moment. He choked back the embarrassment and pressed his back against the sink like an animal trapped in a corner.

"You came into my bedroom and watched me?" She looked at him, wary again. "Were you? You—" She pointed.

"Well, Mr. Clever—"

"Are you that cyber-thing?" Clara yelped and darted into the bedroom and grabbed hold of a baseball bat. She pointed it at him. "Get out, or—or I'll hit you!"

"No! Clara—I've just had a lot of…thoughts."

"A large, singular thought." She pointed the bat at his hard on.

"I'm not Mr. Clever."

"Prove it." She scowled.

"I won't tell you how I feel about you, even after tonight." He shrugged and glanced down at his leather shoes. He tapped them together like Dorothy in Wizard of Oz.

She let out a frustrated huff, still unsure.

"Show me," she said after a moment. "Prove that you don't have any of that metal on your body."

"Metal Cybermen parts?" He barked, "Clara, it's more like titanium alloy than metal and the cybermen would only go after my brain—"

"Prove it." She cut him off and placed the bat on the bed. She lifted the strap on her slip. He really should have just waited until morning.

Part 3 on the way! :)