"I Won't Break" (Doctor Who, Eleven/Clara)
Title: "I Won't Break"
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Eleven/Clara
Rating: 18/NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or any characters featured in this not-for-profit fic.
Summary: Written for Who_Contest. Prompt: "Delicate"
Content Notes: explicit m/f sex.
"I won't break you know," Clara said.
"I know," the Doctor replied, but his voice was saying he didn't know that at all.
"You haven’t broken me so far," she grinned, eyes glinting.
The Doctor smiled. "No. Not yet," he traced patterns over her soft skin with his fingertip. He touched her like she a precious treasure that could be ruined with too strong a caress. It was as if he believed her a precious flower, or an autumn leaf in danger of crumbling.
Clara was naked on the bed beside him.
The patterns he was tracing were the shapes of constellations visible from the house he'd grown up in. The Storm. The Teardrop. The Righteous Tentacle.
No one would have believed that great Gallifrey and it's people had been living on such a delicate thread.
Her hand moved up the inside of his thigh.
Clara knew the Doctor was having one of his gloomy moments. He was taken by a thought or feeling that consumed him. That haunted him. She knew that there was no point in asking because he'd never talk about it, and her asking would only make him irate that she'd noticed and seen beyond his façade.
So she knew that she had to bring him out of his melancholy with action not words. She had to give him something better to focus on. Clara took hold of his cock, urging him with gentle movements. He responded, quickly starting to get hard.
The Doctor was aware of what she was doing. She was impossible in many ways. Impossible because she had drawn him into a sexual relationship. Impossible because somehow she knew what he needed to be saved from the abyss of his own soul.
So he let her. Despite the knowledge that it would end with him breaking her in one way or another he let it happen. Because he needed it.
His finger stopped drawing arrangements of stars and instead circled her left nipple, completing four circuits before he flicked over it.
The Doctor was erect, her hand wrapped around him, flexing her wrist with regular, easy strokes. He felt his hearts beating a faster. Many had seen the Timelord angry, though few had live to tell the tale. Fewer still had seen him aroused. A Timelord's needs were more powerful than any other emotion.
He pinched her nipple, a little harder than intended. She gasped and bit her bottom lip. Seeing the positive reaction he pinched again, pulling on it firmly.
Clara kissed him. Then straddled him, her hand still on his cock. Her back straight, she shuffled forward, directing him to her entrance. She took him inside with a moan and a flutter of her eyelashes.
His left hand on her breast, pinching and twisting her nipple, the other on her hip. She started to ride him, bouncing on him, picking up speed.
Clare didn't seem so delicate anymore.
For a while the Doctor stopped worrying about breaking her.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Eleven/Clara
Rating: 18/NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or any characters featured in this not-for-profit fic.
Summary: Written for Who_Contest. Prompt: "Delicate"
Content Notes: explicit m/f sex.
"I won't break you know," Clara said.
"I know," the Doctor replied, but his voice was saying he didn't know that at all.
"You haven’t broken me so far," she grinned, eyes glinting.
The Doctor smiled. "No. Not yet," he traced patterns over her soft skin with his fingertip. He touched her like she a precious treasure that could be ruined with too strong a caress. It was as if he believed her a precious flower, or an autumn leaf in danger of crumbling.
Clara was naked on the bed beside him.
The patterns he was tracing were the shapes of constellations visible from the house he'd grown up in. The Storm. The Teardrop. The Righteous Tentacle.
No one would have believed that great Gallifrey and it's people had been living on such a delicate thread.
Her hand moved up the inside of his thigh.
Clara knew the Doctor was having one of his gloomy moments. He was taken by a thought or feeling that consumed him. That haunted him. She knew that there was no point in asking because he'd never talk about it, and her asking would only make him irate that she'd noticed and seen beyond his façade.
So she knew that she had to bring him out of his melancholy with action not words. She had to give him something better to focus on. Clara took hold of his cock, urging him with gentle movements. He responded, quickly starting to get hard.
The Doctor was aware of what she was doing. She was impossible in many ways. Impossible because she had drawn him into a sexual relationship. Impossible because somehow she knew what he needed to be saved from the abyss of his own soul.
So he let her. Despite the knowledge that it would end with him breaking her in one way or another he let it happen. Because he needed it.
His finger stopped drawing arrangements of stars and instead circled her left nipple, completing four circuits before he flicked over it.
The Doctor was erect, her hand wrapped around him, flexing her wrist with regular, easy strokes. He felt his hearts beating a faster. Many had seen the Timelord angry, though few had live to tell the tale. Fewer still had seen him aroused. A Timelord's needs were more powerful than any other emotion.
He pinched her nipple, a little harder than intended. She gasped and bit her bottom lip. Seeing the positive reaction he pinched again, pulling on it firmly.
Clara kissed him. Then straddled him, her hand still on his cock. Her back straight, she shuffled forward, directing him to her entrance. She took him inside with a moan and a flutter of her eyelashes.
His left hand on her breast, pinching and twisting her nipple, the other on her hip. She started to ride him, bouncing on him, picking up speed.
Clare didn't seem so delicate anymore.
For a while the Doctor stopped worrying about breaking her.