[ 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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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.