[ 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
[ 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.