Open post/meme overflow 💫

[makemeasong]

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[makemeasong]

[ It seems they've finally found what makes Clara give up her need for control. A trait that was only born from losing enough in life that she felt as though she needed to always have a tight grip. The Doctor has completely unmoored her, and so her arms obediently rise, leaving her in a navy-colored bra.]

You have so many more layers than I do, this is unfair.

[ Clara laughs, though, almost giddy with it as she pushes the Doctor's braces off of her shoulders. ]

Pause for boots?

[ A decidedly unsexy next sentence, but she has no plans to keep hers on. ]

[sheffieldsteel]

Yes, well, didn't dress for the weather, one of us.

[Clearly whichever one of them did not anticipate a new and beautifully nervous encounter of shaky, tentative fingers finding buttons and hemlines, zippers and braces and...

Right yes.]

Pause for boots.

[She agrees, because those will be an impediment quite soon, won't they? She'll see about stepping back to toe hers off.]

[makemeasong]

[ For her part, Clara's been grinning so much she thinks her cheeks might be numb. She's shaky with nerves, yes, but also the giddiest excitement she's ever felt. Like ten Christmases and birthdays all perfect and all in a row.

Multi-tasking has always been a strong suit, and so, while she toes off her own boots, her hands reach to unzip the side of her skirt, letting it drop down her hips. ]

Is this your room, or a random room, by the way?

[ As she asks, she pushes her boots aside so that neither of them rolls out of bed and promptly trips over them later. But she doesn't know if the answer even really matters to her as she eagerly reaches for the Doctor again, trying to get the rest of her unclothed. ]

[sheffieldsteel]

[There's something to that question, especially for the Doctor in this incarnation who can still keep such unclimbable walls around herself despite her usually cheerful mannerisms.]

Mine.

[And not a place she'd ever asked anyone, as if the symbolism of allowing anyone in here is not lost on her. If anyone should be here, it's Clara.

The Doctor steps in closer as that skirt falls, fingers finding her hip, trailing slowly up the newly bared skin of her side, reveling in the warmth and soft skin beneath her fingers. She really probably ought to see to her own clothes as well, and seems to remember that a moment later, hands shifting back to unfasten her trousers, letting them slip to the floor so she can step out of them.]

You had a point about the layers. [She's realizing now of herself, but they'll manage.]

[makemeasong]

[ Already, her breath catches just at that little touch, and for a second her eyes flutter shut. But then the Doctor's words make her laugh loudly, and she grabs at her again as soon as the trousers drop. ]

Oh, c'mere, you.

[ It's been much too long since they've kissed already, and so she does so eagerly. Eventually, her fingers find the hem of the Doctor's shirt and she lifts up. Only then does she break the kiss before stepping back and laying herself out on the Doctor's bed.

The momentousness of this, of being allowed in such a personal space, means more to Clara than she knows how to say; it makes her hopeful that soon, she can show the other woman what it means to her. But for now, she's cheeky. ]

This is quite the comfortable mattress for someone who boasts about how little sleep they need.