- "Beg for it."
- "I want to fuck you right now."
- "I’m going to make it hurt."
- "I’ll make sure you can’t walk tomorrow."
- "Touch yourself for me."
- "I’m your Master and you’ll do what I say."
- "It’s not going to fit!"
- "I’m the only one that would ever fuck you."
- "Spread your legs for me."
- [text] What are you wearing?
- "Get on your knees."
- "Did we fuck last night?"
- "I didn’t know you were so kinky."
- "I think you need to be spanked."
- "You look good tied up."
- "Put on a show for me."
- "I’m not wearing any underwear."
- [text] I didn’t mean to send those pictures!
- "I think the condom broke."
- "You know you like when I tease you."
- "You’ve been a bad boy/girl."
- "We should try adding a third person."
- "You don’t have to be so gentle."
- "Wrong hole!"
- "Bend over."
- "I’m never getting on my knees for you again."
- “You’re going to break me.”
- "Fuck me."
- "You belong to me."
- "Punish me."
- "I’m gonna cum!"
When he reached for her, Clara gave no resistance as she cuddled into her companion. It frightened her just how cold he was to touch but knew that her body heat would help him as they waited for a rescue.
The Doctor moved onto his knees, still hacking up water from his lungs as Clara’s small hands supported him. He would’ve loved to have made a joke - because nearly drowning in a sinking ship was the sort of thing he normally joked about - but he couldn’t find any words, just grateful breaths.
Even his physiology didn’t get on well with icy water and when he’d finished emptying his lungs, he collapsed sideways and rolled onto his back, shivering, giving weak muscles a rest.
"There’s definitely a bite in the air," she added, pulling the blanket closer still.
He didn’t need to say and Clara didn’t need to ask. She could see it. In his eyes. She took his hand in hers and lay her head on his shoulder. She would be there for him. The way that she always was.
Ice breath curled in short bursts from his lips, a sharp counterpoint to the stillness all around. All was quiet now in the aftermath, barely any movement or talking as they waited and hoped for rescue. Of course the Doctor could’ve told them a ship was coming and would be here before dawn
After what he’d seen and been through he could no more find his voice than any of the others could. Some experiences were shared no matter what the species.
And even a Gallirfreyan wasn’t immune to the cold. More likely to survive it, yes, but his physiology wasn’t so special as to be unaffected. He hurt right through to the core of his bones, skin burning from the cold. But he was alive and so he didn’t complain.
“Are you all right?” he asked Clara in a hushed fragile voice, under no illusion that watching hadn’t been hard too. He’d hated having to leave her with near strangers but trusted her strength to hold.
Now though, in the aftermath, was the time to allow weakness through. Everyone needed balance.
"I can’t decide if that’s weird, complimentary or entirely narcissistic."
"Probably a bit of all three, to be honest."
“True. We are good at multitasking like that. Within the confines of limb restrictions of course.
Sometimes I think it would be very useful to have a third hand but where would you put that wouldn’t be in the way?
And shirts wouldn’t fit right.”
Apparently, the Doctor wasn’t very happy with Clara’s shift in attentions, sitting and scowling and looking generally unimpressed by the pair of them. The element of deliriousness was obvious enough, but she still wondered what exactly had offended him so terribly. He’d been a northerner once himself, she’s seen it.
“Right to what?” Clara asked, brows raised slightly, it was easier to use teacher mode to mask her concern now, but the latter part was spoken more softly “—you’re talking nonsense Chin.”
Did he have any idea how difficult this was for her? Not this right now, but all of it. It wasn’t fair to be cross when he was hurting, but she almost felt she should be.
"Don’t scowl like that," she added, trying to coax the Doctor to lie back once more, free hand rising to his cheek as if to smooth the lines for herself. Maybe he was a bit needy right now, she wished she didn’t feel quite so compelled to soothe that too.
"You said we could go to Blackpool, how will you cope with all the northerners there?"
Clara smiled, she still wasn’t sure how far the Doctor was really in touch with reality right now. Her thumb stroked his cheek gently, her eyes commanded his attention just for this bit. Just so they could get it sorted out and then Ben could be on his way too.
"Ben knows what to do, you need to let him finish helping. Please.”
Ben shifted warily, trying to decide whether it was alright to carry on with the dressing now. Maybe if he got the bloke talking (did he have a name? Clara hadn’t mentioned his name) he’d be distracted enough to let him. He cleared his throat awkwardly.
"So, how long have you two been together?"
“No, you’re talking nonsense,” the Doctor countered childishly between short breaths, voice unsteady as he shivered.
He might have fallen into greater levels of petulance - or sheer stupidity by attempting to get up - but Clara’s hand on his cheek was the very definition of the magic touch. His very skin hurt, but the way her thumb brushed him cheek was the sweetest balm, soothing in an instant. Her stroking thumb all but made his eyes drift closed as he calmed.
Oh yes, that was lovely.
“I promised I’d take you anywhere. Even if there are northerns there.”
He barely felt it as Ben began to apply the dressing to his forehead once more, entirely distracted by her touch, but the young nurse’s question was surprisingly distinct. As though he was meant to answer it. And very easy is was to answer too. The Doctor smiled, eyes still softly closed, his breathing calming to a gentle sigh.
“Forever. She’s been there from the start even if I didn’t know it.”
His eyes opened suddenly, looking at Clara with a feverish clarity.
“No,” he corrected himself. “I knew. I always knew. My impossible girl.”