[ The Doctor shrugs out of his now undone shirt, bowtie now a long length of dark blue ribbon left to coil by the first of their discarded clothing. What few scars he might have collected over the course of this particular regeneration appear to be gone with the reset, leaving his skin smooth and free of any flaws. More than that, the Doctor is surprisingly fit beneath the multitude of layers that make up his usual aesthetic; his chest and stomach reveal hard lines of muscle though he still remains slimmer and less defined than your average superhero. It seems all that running, dodging things, fighting aliens, and saving the planet makes for a decent exercise routine.
He dips forward to kiss her again, lips finding hers with what may come across as a surprising amount of boldness for someone who had run away at the idea of 'bed things' not so long ago. This time his fingers slide across her shoulders with surprising deftness to find the top clasp of her dress. He unhooks it and pulls the zipper down the length of her spine — it's slow and deliberate, all traces of that flapping, bumbling Doctor gone. Here is someone who seems to be rather confident in what he's doing, and knows what they're moving towards next. No manual required.
It seems there are still a few unexpected things to learn about him. ]
[She expects there to be fumbling, possibly even some stammering. She's fully predicting he might find a reason to leave and run off. When he slips off his shirt, she thinks he'll think better of it and leave her there to try and calm down on her own.
He doesn't, and she's completely transfixed by the sight of him. She's seen him before, all the way back on that Christmas so long ago. She had politely averted her eyes then. Clara doesn't bother doing that now, letting her gaze trail along his body. Her fingertips slowly map out the hard planes and curves of his muscles, palm pressing flat against the toned outline of his abs as he leans in to kiss her.
Gone is the Doctor she's used to handling when it comes to things like this. His confidence knocks her off balance, leaving her stunned as his lips against hers seek to reassure her that she's exactly what he wants. That this moment is all he needs, just her and him together.
She's left wide eyed and staring up at him as he works the zipper to her dress down ever so slowly. She can feel his skin against hers as his hand deliberately takes its time along its path, and she shivers as her breath hitches. She realizes then that maybe the Doctor is far more capable of sex and romance than she had thought. As her breath comes to her a bit heavier now, she licks at her lips.
Shoulders dip inward to let the top of the dress fall off of her, and with a motion of her arms it rests at her hips, barely hanging on. She leaves it there for now, enjoying watching his face as he takes his time revealing her body to him.]
The way you look at me, it's...
[With such open want and desire, like there's nothing that's going to get in the way of having her. Not anymore. There's no need to hide what he feels away from her. She can see what she does to him without any need for either of them to be guarded.]
You look at me, and you finally see me.
[And this is the first time she thinks he's allowing her to see the him that exists beneath the surface. He doesn't need to protect her anymore. She's ready to have him completely. She guides him in for another kiss, one so achingly slow and tender that emotion builds and catches in her chest. Her palm slides upward, resting over his double heartbeat.]
I think you're the first one who ever has.
[Her lips brush against his as she murmurs. She knows he can't bring himself to say that he loves her so openly. Maybe someday he will. But for now, that's an opening to put love into terms that are easier for a man with the weight of the universe on his shoulders to process.]
[ His voice is low, their mouths barely grazing against each other's when he responds. He folds a hand over hers, the double-beat of his heart feeling louder and quicker in his ears. ]
I see you Clara Oswald. [ He kisses her again. ] And you can see me too.
[ There's a definite weight in his words, the sincerity and truth that he allows them when he often spends so much time devising a careful and willful mask of sorts. Not always a lie, and oftentimes still very genuine, but always with some level of protection against himself. He would argue it's to protect others, but in more ways its always been to protect himself. There are so few who know the real Doctor, and Clara is seeing into more of that tonight than he's ever allowed anyone else to see in a very long time.
And this sort of thing, the intimacy of it all ... well, it's been even longer since that's gone about. But then time is always a bit odd when you're a time-traveling alien with your very own time-and-spaceship.
He lets his fingers trail against the edge of her skin as though to study her in ways he'd never done before, to raise goosepimples and a gasp from her lips, and no, he doesn't shy away from her near-nakedness either, church or no church. (And this really isn't a church moment.)
He drops a kiss over her shoulder then, as though touch through his hands isn't quite enough to complete his study; he needs to use his lips as well. ]
[There's something about the way he explores her now that makes her feel self-conscious. Not in the sort of way that has her shying away from him, but in the very real awareness that they actually have all the time in the world for him to explore her body. He'll know every dip and curve, every single scar and freckle. Her heart starts to beat faster, and her lips part for a soft gasp his his lips press against her shoulder.
He'll be satisfied when gooseflesh rises up over her skin, and she gives the slightest shiver. She reaches for him instantly, fingers pressing against his temple before sliding up to run through his hair. After a few moments she lets that hand slip away, ghosting touch down along his body on her way to take hold of his hand.]
Here. [She directs him gently, guiding his hand to where the fabric of her dress is bunched at her hips.] You'll be able to see more this way.
[Not that he already can't see plenty. But she's certain that the temptation of more will guide him.]
[ It isn't that he especially needs the guidance (surprisingly) but he does appreciate it, wanting to learn about the things that Clara likes and what it is that might quicken the beat of her heart, or issue another gasp from her lips. He wants to learn everything there is to know about his Impossible Girl.
His hand slides across her skin to gather in the fabric of her dress and give it a light tug. With her assistance, as she straightens a little he'll slide it past her hips and over her legs to be tossed somewhere along with his now discarded shirt and bowtie. Just one more item to lose as things start to increase in its intensity, and all under the simulated watchful stars just past the observatory window of this equally simulated TARDIS.
His mouth finds hers again, and this time he pulls her right into his lap, gathering her into his arms so that the weight of her and the nearness of her prickles a new sort of heat within him, making the fabric of his trousers suddenly feel just a little too tight. ]
[She's still adjusting to the fact that he isn't going to fumble his way through things this first time. Given how he had quite literally run away when he thought she wanted him to come to bed with her before, she had assumed he'd need a bit of coaching. Maybe he hadn't ever engaged with this sort of thing in this regeneration before. And Clara would've been perfectly happy to do so, glad to be able to share such an important moment with him.
But as he pulls her into his lap and she can feel him hardening beneath her nearly bare backside, she's utterly stunned. He knows exactly what he's doing. Not only that, he's good at it. She doesn't have long to be shocked into stillness, of course. His lips press against hers and she's pliant and responsive, lips parting so he can deepen the kiss if he likes.
She's quickly discovering that she likes this side of the Doctor. He doesn't mind her guidance but clearly doesn't need it. And even takes charge a bit to counter her bossiness. It would be easy to stay like this forever, she thinks. Just the two of them and the stars, slowly working one another up with a healthy dose of snogging. Of course, this is escalating to be far more than that. And she's eager, perhaps a bit too keen for what's next.
When she rocks against his lap, rear grinding against the hardness she feels in his trousers, it pulls a soft gasp out of her. The sound is muffled against his lips and she smiles a bit, breaking the kiss so she can look up at him with arousal darkened eyes. Lips kiss swollen and breath heavy, she tries to not get completely caught up so early on. He's addictive, her Doctor. And she's all too glad to be lost in him entirely.]
[ The Doctor is a complicated man, and there are parts of him that even he couldn't explain. Couldn't really even explain why he called himself the Doctor in one moment, and then know exactly what it means to be him in another. His panicked running off, his noodly arms flapping about at the mere mention of intimacy (physical or emotional otherwise) is just one of those things: a reflex sometimes, and a deliberate misdirection at others, but at this moment, he wants her to know that he is not only up for the challenge, but he'll spoil her too.
Lips greedily chase after hers, and when they break apart to catch at their breaths, it's only for the Doctor to redivert his attentions — to find some other part of her to explore and delight in, to make her feel electric in her own skin by his touch. He wants to coax her, pull her into him, and worship her in ways that no man ever has or ever would again. And he wants to remember this, remember everything about her, imprint every atom that makes her her onto his hearts so that every Doctor that comes after him knows how important Clara Oswald is. How much she matters.
His breath becomes a little ragged by the time they've been snogging for some time, and the rhythm of her movement in his lap has become just a touch more frenetic. There's a low sinking in his stomach that pools in that place under his trousers, and suddenly he needs the darned things off. He lets out an exhale and meets her eyes, the want in hers reflecting his own. ]
Clara.
[ The sound of her name is barely even a whisper on his lips, but it feels like a promise of sorts; an intention. And then — ]
I want you.
[ It's said with just a little more urgency now before he leans back in to kiss her again, to find the clasp of her brassiere because they are absolutely still wearing far too many clothes. ]
[She's been waiting for him to say those three words for so long now. They cause her breath to hitch, because she commits the exact urgency he's just uttered them in to memory. As her breath shakily releases, he kisses her again, and their lips fit together perfectly. She doesn't have to guide him to remove her bra, doesn't have to tell him what she wants him to do. He just knows. But then again, he always knows, doesn't he?
All this time spent thinking he didn't know what to do or wouldn't be interested in this suddenly makes her feel so foolish. The Doctor is perfectly capable of intimacy, and more than that, he wants her. A needy whimper catches in her throat as she replays the way he's just said her name. She doesn't think she's ever heard someone ever quite say her name like that before.
If it's possible, it only makes her love him more.
Which in turn, adds to her own need for him. Patience wearing thin, there's another needy sound that is heard fully now, as she breaks the kiss in order to focus on getting his trousers undone. There's not much more she can do to remove them with the way she's still slowly grinding against his lap, and she has to stop what she's doing in order to rise up off of him.
She rests on her knees in front of him, one hand curling to brace the back of his head as she pulls herself in for another kiss.]
Then have me. [Clara finally answers him, voice barely above a whisper as her lips remain against his.] All of me. [There's another kiss, and then another, and her hands press against his shoulders before slowly trailing down his arms. She urges him to rise up along with her, just for a moment.]
Now take off your trousers before I tear them off of you.
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no subject
[ The Doctor shrugs out of his now undone shirt, bowtie now a long length of dark blue ribbon left to coil by the first of their discarded clothing. What few scars he might have collected over the course of this particular regeneration appear to be gone with the reset, leaving his skin smooth and free of any flaws. More than that, the Doctor is surprisingly fit beneath the multitude of layers that make up his usual aesthetic; his chest and stomach reveal hard lines of muscle though he still remains slimmer and less defined than your average superhero. It seems all that running, dodging things, fighting aliens, and saving the planet makes for a decent exercise routine.
He dips forward to kiss her again, lips finding hers with what may come across as a surprising amount of boldness for someone who had run away at the idea of 'bed things' not so long ago. This time his fingers slide across her shoulders with surprising deftness to find the top clasp of her dress. He unhooks it and pulls the zipper down the length of her spine — it's slow and deliberate, all traces of that flapping, bumbling Doctor gone. Here is someone who seems to be rather confident in what he's doing, and knows what they're moving towards next. No manual required.
It seems there are still a few unexpected things to learn about him. ]
no subject
He doesn't, and she's completely transfixed by the sight of him. She's seen him before, all the way back on that Christmas so long ago. She had politely averted her eyes then. Clara doesn't bother doing that now, letting her gaze trail along his body. Her fingertips slowly map out the hard planes and curves of his muscles, palm pressing flat against the toned outline of his abs as he leans in to kiss her.
Gone is the Doctor she's used to handling when it comes to things like this. His confidence knocks her off balance, leaving her stunned as his lips against hers seek to reassure her that she's exactly what he wants. That this moment is all he needs, just her and him together.
She's left wide eyed and staring up at him as he works the zipper to her dress down ever so slowly. She can feel his skin against hers as his hand deliberately takes its time along its path, and she shivers as her breath hitches. She realizes then that maybe the Doctor is far more capable of sex and romance than she had thought. As her breath comes to her a bit heavier now, she licks at her lips.
Shoulders dip inward to let the top of the dress fall off of her, and with a motion of her arms it rests at her hips, barely hanging on. She leaves it there for now, enjoying watching his face as he takes his time revealing her body to him.]
The way you look at me, it's...
[With such open want and desire, like there's nothing that's going to get in the way of having her. Not anymore. There's no need to hide what he feels away from her. She can see what she does to him without any need for either of them to be guarded.]
You look at me, and you finally see me.
[And this is the first time she thinks he's allowing her to see the him that exists beneath the surface. He doesn't need to protect her anymore. She's ready to have him completely. She guides him in for another kiss, one so achingly slow and tender that emotion builds and catches in her chest. Her palm slides upward, resting over his double heartbeat.]
I think you're the first one who ever has.
[Her lips brush against his as she murmurs. She knows he can't bring himself to say that he loves her so openly. Maybe someday he will. But for now, that's an opening to put love into terms that are easier for a man with the weight of the universe on his shoulders to process.]
no subject
I see you Clara Oswald. [ He kisses her again. ] And you can see me too.
[ There's a definite weight in his words, the sincerity and truth that he allows them when he often spends so much time devising a careful and willful mask of sorts. Not always a lie, and oftentimes still very genuine, but always with some level of protection against himself. He would argue it's to protect others, but in more ways its always been to protect himself. There are so few who know the real Doctor, and Clara is seeing into more of that tonight than he's ever allowed anyone else to see in a very long time.
And this sort of thing, the intimacy of it all ... well, it's been even longer since that's gone about. But then time is always a bit odd when you're a time-traveling alien with your very own time-and-spaceship.
He lets his fingers trail against the edge of her skin as though to study her in ways he'd never done before, to raise goosepimples and a gasp from her lips, and no, he doesn't shy away from her near-nakedness either, church or no church. (And this really isn't a church moment.)
He drops a kiss over her shoulder then, as though touch through his hands isn't quite enough to complete his study; he needs to use his lips as well. ]
no subject
He'll be satisfied when gooseflesh rises up over her skin, and she gives the slightest shiver. She reaches for him instantly, fingers pressing against his temple before sliding up to run through his hair. After a few moments she lets that hand slip away, ghosting touch down along his body on her way to take hold of his hand.]
Here. [She directs him gently, guiding his hand to where the fabric of her dress is bunched at her hips.] You'll be able to see more this way.
[Not that he already can't see plenty. But she's certain that the temptation of more will guide him.]
no subject
[ It isn't that he especially needs the guidance (surprisingly) but he does appreciate it, wanting to learn about the things that Clara likes and what it is that might quicken the beat of her heart, or issue another gasp from her lips. He wants to learn everything there is to know about his Impossible Girl.
His hand slides across her skin to gather in the fabric of her dress and give it a light tug. With her assistance, as she straightens a little he'll slide it past her hips and over her legs to be tossed somewhere along with his now discarded shirt and bowtie. Just one more item to lose as things start to increase in its intensity, and all under the simulated watchful stars just past the observatory window of this equally simulated TARDIS.
His mouth finds hers again, and this time he pulls her right into his lap, gathering her into his arms so that the weight of her and the nearness of her prickles a new sort of heat within him, making the fabric of his trousers suddenly feel just a little too tight. ]
no subject
But as he pulls her into his lap and she can feel him hardening beneath her nearly bare backside, she's utterly stunned. He knows exactly what he's doing. Not only that, he's good at it. She doesn't have long to be shocked into stillness, of course. His lips press against hers and she's pliant and responsive, lips parting so he can deepen the kiss if he likes.
She's quickly discovering that she likes this side of the Doctor. He doesn't mind her guidance but clearly doesn't need it. And even takes charge a bit to counter her bossiness. It would be easy to stay like this forever, she thinks. Just the two of them and the stars, slowly working one another up with a healthy dose of snogging. Of course, this is escalating to be far more than that. And she's eager, perhaps a bit too keen for what's next.
When she rocks against his lap, rear grinding against the hardness she feels in his trousers, it pulls a soft gasp out of her. The sound is muffled against his lips and she smiles a bit, breaking the kiss so she can look up at him with arousal darkened eyes. Lips kiss swollen and breath heavy, she tries to not get completely caught up so early on. He's addictive, her Doctor. And she's all too glad to be lost in him entirely.]
no subject
Lips greedily chase after hers, and when they break apart to catch at their breaths, it's only for the Doctor to redivert his attentions — to find some other part of her to explore and delight in, to make her feel electric in her own skin by his touch. He wants to coax her, pull her into him, and worship her in ways that no man ever has or ever would again. And he wants to remember this, remember everything about her, imprint every atom that makes her her onto his hearts so that every Doctor that comes after him knows how important Clara Oswald is. How much she matters.
His breath becomes a little ragged by the time they've been snogging for some time, and the rhythm of her movement in his lap has become just a touch more frenetic. There's a low sinking in his stomach that pools in that place under his trousers, and suddenly he needs the darned things off. He lets out an exhale and meets her eyes, the want in hers reflecting his own. ]
Clara.
[ The sound of her name is barely even a whisper on his lips, but it feels like a promise of sorts; an intention. And then — ]
I want you.
[ It's said with just a little more urgency now before he leans back in to kiss her again, to find the clasp of her brassiere because they are absolutely still wearing far too many clothes. ]
no subject
All this time spent thinking he didn't know what to do or wouldn't be interested in this suddenly makes her feel so foolish. The Doctor is perfectly capable of intimacy, and more than that, he wants her. A needy whimper catches in her throat as she replays the way he's just said her name. She doesn't think she's ever heard someone ever quite say her name like that before.
If it's possible, it only makes her love him more.
Which in turn, adds to her own need for him. Patience wearing thin, there's another needy sound that is heard fully now, as she breaks the kiss in order to focus on getting his trousers undone. There's not much more she can do to remove them with the way she's still slowly grinding against his lap, and she has to stop what she's doing in order to rise up off of him.
She rests on her knees in front of him, one hand curling to brace the back of his head as she pulls herself in for another kiss.]
Then have me. [Clara finally answers him, voice barely above a whisper as her lips remain against his.] All of me. [There's another kiss, and then another, and her hands press against his shoulders before slowly trailing down his arms. She urges him to rise up along with her, just for a moment.]
Now take off your trousers before I tear them off of you.