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When the Doctor started out his day, it seemed like it would go like any other; greet Clara after her breakfast, take them to a new planet, try not to fall too deeply in love with his companion. Though with each passing day, that last bullet point seemed harder and harder. He guesses that Clara loves her life with him and he loves it too especially when he got to see her small smiles at jokes he made or her excitement when coming across something new.
It isn’t unusual for the Doctor to wander the infinite halls of the TARDIS in the mornings before seeing her. He needs to make sure things are in check, that his machine is taking care of herself, that the swimming pool is at the perfect temperature (it always is). Yet today, he stumbles upon the door to Clara’s room. The door looks like the front door of the Maitland family’s house, the one of the family that Clara nannied for. He finds himself compelled to knock although he knows it was early. When the door opens, he knew it was worth it. There is beautiful Clara, still in her soft looking long sleeved nightie, her hair in two messy braids. He hadn’t known she wore her hair in braids to sleep.
“Good morning,” the Doctor says cheerfully, clasping his hands behind his back.
Clara stares at him, her big brown eyes searching for an answer for this house call. “Did I sleep in too late?” And then, more awake, “Did something happen?”
“No. No. No problems. I was just on a walk, and… I found my way here. Thought I would pop by.” He rocks on his heels, hoping that he would be invited in so he could see more of sleepy Clara, what her life looks like when he’s not directly in it.
She opens the door wider for him. He hadn’t seen her room since they had originally found it. It’s more like a small flat; a small kitchenette flanks the left side with a futon and coffee table across from it. In a corner in a nice sized bed with a deep red duvet, the walls surrounding it are lined with hanging plants and fairy lights. The TARDIS despite her problems with Clara seemed to do her right, the Doctor thinks as he walks in.
Clara lies down on her bed, covering herself with the duvet, as if to go back to sleep. “Jammie Dodgers are in the cupboard.”
The Doctor wishes he could come up with some excuse to climb into bed next to her, maybe even have the courage to thread his fingers through her hair, or even to kiss her. He didn’t know why he felt his hearts beating faster than usual. He had done crazier things than this with plenty of other humans (and non humans). He hadn’t even felt this nervous when he was with River, perhaps that was because their explosive chemistry made the world fade away. There’s no edge with Clara though, he just cared so deeply for her and yearned to be with her.
“Clara, this might sound untoward, especially because I’m technically married and for humans that could be weird, but I’d really like to kiss you.” The Doctor blushes as Clara looks incredulously at him. He sounds like a nerdy boy getting his first kiss.
Instead of saying anything, Clara scoots closer to the wall to make room for the Doctor. He takes his shoes off by the door, lining them up with hers, and then pads over to her bed, climbing into it. It smells so much like Clara in here, obviously it would, that he just wants to bury his face into the pillow and never come up for air. It’s all rose petals and rain and vanilla.
He doesn’t know if this is the closest he’s been to Clara, as they have hugged on multiple occasions or been forced to be close to one another, but this feels different. She’s lying on her side staring at him and he’s lying on his side staring at her. He notices a freckle on the top of her lip he’d never noticed before, how had he not noticed it before?
“You want to snog me, Doctor?” she asks playfully, a smirk appearing on her pink lips.
“I never said snog,” the Doctor replies, rolling his eyes.
“But you want to?” She reaches over to grab his right arm, pushing him to lie on his back. She rolls over to have her head next to his, her hand playing with the ends of his bowtie.
“If you want me too.” He watches as she nods, her lips hovering over his before she closes the distance. Her lips are soft and her breath is fresh from sleep. She moves her lips lazily against his.
He moves one of his hands to her back, enjoying the soft pink cotton of her sleepwear. In a breathy tone, he whispers, “You’re so beautiful, Clara.”
“Does this normally work?” she asks, her tone bored. He can’t tell if she’s joking or not.
“What?”
“Going to your companion’s room, pretending like you just wondered upon it, and hoping to get a quick shag—“
“One, I’ve never done this. Two, I’m not here for a quick shag. I’m not. I’m really, really not. Unless you want that. Then perhaps we can discuss it, but that was never my intention.”
—
Clara can’t lie and say she’s never thought about being with the Doctor in this way before. Though, she never wanted to just be another companion that fell for him and then had to deal with losing him. He always tells her she’s unlike the others, that she means so much to him, probably because of their meetings throughout time.
When she thinks of being intimate with him, it’s never soft like this. Their copulating was always fueled by disasters being averted; saving the world from cybermen really makes one horny. He’d push her against the console and make her heart pound just as fast as it did as they ran back to the TARDIS. He’d be witty and clever and ruthless, not soft and nervous like he is right now.
His hazel eyes bore into hers, a look of concern and excitement flying across them. Clara can’t help but smile, thinking about how much she loves him. In this moment, she doesn’t think about what this means for them, she just leans in and kisses him. The Doctor’s large hot hand gingerly holds the back of her head. Clara moves as they kiss to straddle the Doctor, her hands moving to cup his face, and her tongue pushing into his mouth. She can feel the Doctor smile against her lips.
She doesn’t know if she’s ever picked up on what the Doctor smells, but it reminds her of home, like old weathered books and something sweet, maybe the custard from the fish fingers he likes so much.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Clara complains as they break away from their first kiss. She feels out of breath and can feel her heart in her throat.
The Doctor swiftly nods, scooting to sit up so he can take his tweed jacket and waistcoat off. He drops it to the floor with a nonchalance that Clara has never seen from him. He undoes his bowtie leaving it hanging around his neck.
“I’d have to say the same thing about you, Miss Clara Oswald,” The Doctor replies, starting to move his hand up and down Clara’s thigh. It starts playful, just the parts of her thighs that are exposed, but then he starts moving upwards, until she can feel his fingers dance with the edge of her knickers near her bum.
“I’m wearing significantly less clothing items,” Clara says trying not to share how the touching is affecting her.
“Does this feel good? Your heart rate has sped up.” She can’t believe she’d forgotten how the Doctor can easily assess the smallest of changes.
She blushes, “yeah, it does.” She thinks about how she hasn’t been intimate with another in a long time and just how good it feels even though he’s barely done a thing.
He keeps rubbing up and down her thigh. She regains enough composure to start unbuttoning his shirt. Wisps of chest hair adorn his lean torso. She leans down to kiss his neck, bitting lightly at his shoulder, before kissing that spot.
“What do you want to do, Chin Boy?” Clara asks in a whispered tone, her lips moved to be close to his.
“Whatever you’ll give me, Clara.” His fingers rub right under her bum. “I’ll happily do whatever you want.”
Clara is again reminded of her not infrequent sexual musing. The Doctor would always take what he wanted (sure, the situation was consensual, but it was always on his terms). He’d fuck her. He’d sit with one eyebrow cocked waiting for her to suck him off. He’d be rough and alluring and sexy. And he’s still sexy now, but nothing like she would’ve expected.
“I want you to explore my body like you do the universe.”
The Doctor chuckles and after a moment or so, Clara joins in. Her cheeks heat up, causing a red tint. He jokingly moves his hands up and down her torso while making the TARDIS noise, causing her to laugh even more. She can feel the hotness of his hands through her thin nightie. Then, his fingers land where they were before, playing with the hem of her pants.
“Tell me if I do something you don’t like,” he says as his gaze meets her. Suddenly, he is back to his serious self, the joking air taken away from him. He takes her shoulders and gently lies her so her head is back on her pillows. She rejoices in the coldness of the pillow against her warm face.
The Doctor leans over her, putting his large hand on the inside of her thigh. His face is just above hers. Clara inhales sharply as his fingers start to rub against the front of her knickers where there is already a wet spot. She leans into his touch.
“Feels good,” she mutters, brushing their lips together before kissing him. He starts pushing away the side of her pink pants, rubbing her clit. She moans, drowning in that sweet smell that lingers off of him.
“You’re so magnificent,” The Doctor coos, letting his other hand explore underneath Clara’s nightie. His hands are calloused but yet still feel good against Clara’s skin. As he starts to grasp at her breasts, Clara unabashedly lets out a strangled noise. It’s been so long since anyone’s touched her like this and it feels especially good for it to be with her doctor.
His thumb rubs against her nipple, just until it hardens, then he moves to the other one. Through semi closed eyes, Clara watches him smile with amusement. He’s making the same stern, focused face she’s seen him do when fixing the TARDIS console.
The Doctor stalls for a minute to slowly take off Clara’s pants. Then he goes back to rubbing agonizingly slow circles on her clit. He leans down and his warm lips find hers again, softer this time, as his other hand moves up and down her side.
“Do you like being fingered?” he asks in a breathy, urgent tone, as if Clara’s preferences were the clue to saving humanity.
“Yeah,” Clara replies, her voice barely above a whisper. She finds thinking about anything hard to do.
The hand that was moving slowly goes to her vulva, he sticks one long finger into her vagina. The circles on her clit stop, but he still applies pressure.
She whines at the new contact, “Feels so good.”
“Yeah?” The Doctor beams, his gaze locked on Clara’s scrunched up facial expression. “I’m so glad, sweetheart.”
Clara feels so hot. She almost asks for him to say it again. She opens her eyes and looks at him. His floppy hair is covering his eyes as he focuses. She notices he keeps huffing trying to push it away. She wonders when and where and who he did this last with, but decides only to focus on the fact that he wants her.
He inserts another finger, hiking up her legs into his lap. She moans at the new position, enjoying the feeling of his fingers sliding in and out of her.
“Your pussy feels so good,” he adds, starting to rub circles on her clit again. She whines, arching her back, pushing her head into the pillow.
The pace is so slow, but so rewarding. Each thrust of the fingers, each circle on her clit makes her more like putty. Maybe this was the TARDIS’ plan all along, kill her slow. She finally feels the build up in her stomach, the overwhelming sense of conclusion.
“I’m getting close,” she pants. “A little faster?”
He follows orders, speeding up what feels like the tiniest bit possible. Clara whines, “Faster please.”
This time, he slowly starts to get faster, just enough so it’s considered a moderate pace. With every thrust, Clara feels her breasts jiggle. She wonders if the Doctor enjoys watching them.
“You’re doing so well for me, Clara.”
With that, she feels everything explode, tears pouring down her face. The Doctor’s fingers slowly remove themselves from her body. Clara feels like she can’t breath, her chest rising and falling at such a rapid rate. She feels the Doctor’s breath close to her face, he whispers, “Good girl,” kissing the top of her head.
Clara holds her arms out lazily for him. After a few seconds, realizing the Doctor doesn’t know what she wants, she pulls him down to lie on her chest. She puts one hand in his hair, relishing at the soft texture of it. She watches his eyes close sleepily and then realizes she doesn’t know if he does sleep.
“… thank you,” she whispers, not actually sure if she said it.
“Did you like it?” She nods enthusiastically.
“Yes, Doctor, I liked it very much. And I would very much like to do it again.” She can feel the Doctor smile against her chest. “Do you… do time lords… is there something…”
“You don’t have to—” he starts, “Not today.”
Clara hums. “So do you have a—”
“I have to keep you coming back somehow.”
“I would anyway.”
Clara doesn’t know how long they lay there. For once, the Doctor is completely slient. She wonders if he’s listening to her heartbeat or if he’s just wondering when he can politely go for the Jammie Dodgers in the cupboard.
“Happy birthday, Clara.” She doesn’t know how he knew her birthday, but she smiles. This might be the best birthday she’s had, at least since her life really began.