makemeasong | Open post/meme overflow 💫

Look who's talking. [They both knew that they were attracted to people that could dish it back - well at least after they got over their respective annoyance.]

Do you hear yourself? [He can't help but laugh at the sap. As much as he hates it, it's grown on him.] But if I'm going to be anyone's star it might as well be yours.

[All that's left to do with the ring is set it which he makes quick work of. When it's done and cooled thank to Time Lord tech, he examines it with a pleased noise.] I think your ring is done. Do you want to see it now or should it be a grand gesture?

[For a moment he thinks he should take jewelry making up as a hobby - but then he brushes the thought away. The only person he'd want to make anything for is Clara and then she wouldn't have a place to put any of it. The ring is sized to her finger and it's a fine, cool metal that sparkles with stardust whenever you moved. It orbited the embedded precious gem like a nebula that pulsed every now and then with a golden, honey as if the stone were breathing]

[ She loves escalating the sap just to see how far she can push it. Will she actually cause his brain to blow? Laughing, Clara sits up straighter when he says the ring is done. ]

I want you to put it on my finger, that's all. No other grand gestures.

[ But she does get up from her seat and move to his lap, sick of not being close. it's been over an hour. ]

[He motions for her hand after she's made herself comfortable on his lap. The ring slips onto her finger, her lovely, glorious, finger and fits like a glove.

Pressing a kiss to her hand, he looks up at her, eyes full of adoration. His wife. His Clara.]

Do you like it?

[ She's staring at the ring and can't talk, so she has to nod as she tries to swallow around the lump in her throat. She again thinks about how close it was, that a few minutes of hesitation from him and the diner wouldn't have been there, and she would have been gone. All without ever knowing her husband had been in front of her all along.

When she feels like she might be able to make some sort of sound, she finally tells him what she thinks. ]

It's perfect. It's you. [ Clara's arms wind around him and she presses her face against his neck. ] I promise, you won't ever be alone again. I swear, Doctor.

[The Doctor would have expected some kind of hug or a kiss if she liked it, but he hadn't expected her to say what she did. In fact, he's taken aback.

His hands rest inches from circling around her frame and a beat later he feels his eyes mist up again before his arms finally encircle her. Reflexively he wants to tell her that she doesn't have to promise that, that it's not a burden she needs to put on herself, but then he tells himself to shut up. The ring is his promise to her too: never to leave her alone, that he'll always keep her safe, that he loves her until the end of time. The thoughts ring out in his mind as he clings onto her, words failing him.]

[ Clara feels wrapped up in him, surrounded by him when he's in her mind like this, and without saying anything to break the gentle quiet, she dips her head to kiss him softly, her lips only brushing his first, then whispering soft words of endearment before her kiss deepens to seal those unspoken words.

There isn't a force in the universe that will take her away from him again, she refuses. ]

[He can feel her conviction in the kiss and it stirs something in him as he returns the kiss passionately. His fingers tangle in her hair and he's engulfed in her taste and her smell. The Doctor murmurs her name into the kiss and when he breaks, he still continues to press them to her lips, her cheeks, her eyeslids.]

[ This wasn't her goal, she'd planned to drag him through the TARDIS to tell her about the things he kept secret when they didn't know who they were to one another. She wants to know, she wants to know everything. But it's easy to shift in his lap so that she's straddling him.

It's also easy to send every thought to him, letting him into the deep well of love that exists only for him in her hearts. He can have every thought, ever wish, every want. All of it is his, and she takes her turn to drop kisses all along his face, then against the side of his neck. ]

[For once the Doctor surrenders himself to her love, letting it wash over him from head to toe. As he lips meet the skin of his neck there's a rumble from his throat, his hands roaming down the length of her back, hands tucking under the hem of the t-shirt to touch her bare skin.]

[ The first time felt urgent, getting used to one another again. This time, Clara takes her time to kiss and touch, not rushing and trying to soak up every moment until finally, the chair begins to be restrictive. ]

Is there a bed somewhere in this TARDIS you wouldn't mind carrying me to?

Yes. Yeah of course.

[His voice is heady with desire as he removes his goggles and hoists the both of them up from the chair. His room is normally down plenty of bends and turns, tucked closer to the heart of the TARDIS because it feels slightly like home, but the TARDIS moves it around, readjusting the hallways so that they're there soon enough.

He lies her on the bed gently, eyes ablaze.]

[ Last time he doted on her, this time, Clara dotes on him. She knows that for as long as they've been apart, he hasn't sought pleasure for the sake of it. She knows he loved, but she also knows him given what he told her already. He held a part of himself back, gave and rarely received. But she's fixing that, now.

As soon as she's on the bed she tugs him over her but immediately rolls them over and switches their positions. The only thing she does quickly is rid them of their clothing. Then, she's slow and lazy, pressing kisses first at his neck and throat. Her nose nuzzles playfully at his chest hair before a barrage of kisses rain on his skin. Her hands aren't idle, trailing up and down his sides, fingernails leaving a faint trail that disappears quickly.

She makes her way lower, trailing her fingers through coarse curls before kissing his stomach and wrapping her hand around him to slowly stroke. It's such an intimate touch, to hold onto her husband this way, to touch him again. She needs to love him, to shower him with it, to give him an ocean of it to make up for his billions of years trying to bring her back from the dead, and the thousands of years they were unknown to one another.

Stretching along his side, her free hand runs through his hair and she whispers in their native tongue to him everything he can already see in her mind before encouraging him to give in to her, to let himself feel. ]

[There's a look of surprise in his eyes when Clara rolls them over but he's more than happy to let her lead. His skin feels alive with a warmth he hasn't felt in a while. This feels different from their first night in the cabin; it's not less intimate, but it's hard to deny the difference when he can feel both of their thoughts and feelings pouring into one another, melding until there isn't a difference between them.

He relishes the feel of her fingers as they roam and he can't help the moan that escapes his lips when Clara's hands find his length. There's a shudder through his body more so in response to the words she's speaking into his ear and into his mind than anything else, but the carnal pleasure is just as good.

He desperately wants to pleasure in return, far more used to that than this but instead he settles for tugging her face towards him to capture her lips with his.]

[ In some ways, being connected to one another's thoughts feels more intimate than anything else. It's a place no one else can ever go, only the two of them, and she savors the feeling.

When he kisses her she's distracted enough that her hand stills and she takes the time to flicker through mental images, silently asking him what he wants, how he wants to finish, how he wants her. ]

[She'll feel a slight smugness there being able to throw her off her focus and he takes the opportunity to take advantage of the brief opportunity to deepen the kiss.

It's tempting to continue to tease her but instead he relents, knowing that she'd be happier this way. He shows her - but it's more of a feeling. He just wants to be as close to her as possible. To feel her pressed to him, on top of him, surrounded by her - and he can't help himself - whatever will make her feel good.]

[ Clara decides not to move far, and instead lays on her side facing him, bringing one leg over his hip. It's easy to guide him into her and she lets out a soft breath, eyes fluttering shut. Every thought in her mind is of him coming home to her, the way she feels buried in his arms, completely enveloped by him.

One hand presses to the side of his face as she moves with him slowly. It's partially a tease - which one of them will give in and move faster once they're on the precipe about to fall over? It feels so good to be breathless again, to feel her skin grow hot against his. Clara's eyes never leave his, watching as they dilate and darken, knowing hers must be doing the same. She fights the urge to close them as long as she can, but that's the battle she loses, moaning his name and closing her eyes.

All of her thoughts seem to turn to white noise, unable to focus anymore on anything at all. It occurs to her that they could come together; it's the one feeling that escapes her mind to wrap around them both. ]

[The Doctor can't help but groan softly when he feels himself slip inside her. This is coming home. It isn't Gallifrey, it's here with Clara. It always has been. His hands press against her back as he religiously moves in time with the movement of her body and breath despite how their legs are tangled up in one another.

He presses soft kisses to her collar bone between gentle bites. She is his and he's hers in every way and he projects that into Clara's mind. Before long he feels her mind melt into a soft, heated, glow, unable to concentrate on anything coherent.

But one thought does ring out and he nods even though he knows she can't see it with her eyes closed. Together, he thinks. Always. He cups the back of her neck, increasing his speed and intensity, and inadvertently losing the teasing game they had played and he moans her name - her true name - through a muffled kiss.]

[ As soon as she feels him let go, Clara tenses for a single heartbeat, then one more, before she's with him. One hand grips his hair, buried in it while the other clings to his shoulder while they move together. She doesn't want to lose this feeling of him inside of her, not ready for the ache it leaves behind, the coldness and feeling like there's too much space between them.

Four and a half billion years, death, near misses - she's earned the right to be needy, to cling, she thinks. They both have. Shaking in his arms, she chases his lips, unable to truly kiss him as her pleasure ebbs; lingering pulses move through her to him, and it's enough to make her whimper softly.

Once her skin begins to cool, she feels her hearts sync to the beat of the Doctor's, and she presses kisses all along his jaw. Finally, she speaks softly, one word pressed against his mouth while a smile curves her lips. ]

Husband.

Wife. My wife.

[Their completion is like a crescendo, a grand end to a song that is purely theirs. He presses kisses to her forehead, not minding the sweat that mingles with her taste before meeting her lips.

As they're lying there in the afterglow, it dawns on the Doctor that for the first time in a long while there's a sense of calmness in his body. Is that what letting himself be loved feel like? The thought lingers in his mind and transfers to Clara's.]

[ His thought quietly breaks her hearts and she nods, pressing her forehead to his. ]

It should have been like this, always. You never should've forgotten this feeling.

[ She's always had a suspicion that he was starved for love but didn't know how to express it, and that was before she knew he was her husband. ]

It was easier to forget. [To some degree he knows that he kept himself away like this for that very reason. Loneliness might as well have been a companion in and of itself.] It made the loss easier.

Never again.

[ Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper. But the words are fierce, and there's complete conviction. She won't ever be parted from him again, she doesn't care what it takes. ]

You can have this again, every day, always. [ Her lips press to his chest, right in between his hearts as she closes her eyes. ]

Never again.

[He takes her hand, the one now wearing the ring, and presses adoring kisses to it all the while thinking he's so lucky that Clara thinks he's deserving enough for her. They remain there cuddling and murmuring to one another before eventually dozing off.

The Doctor isn't certain when he falls asleep, but when he wakes several hours later he shifts to feel for Clara at his side.]

[ Clara's only been awake around twenty minutes. But it's long enough that she's wearing his clothes again from after her shower. Her plan was to do some exploring, just a little, on her way to the kitchen. Then she'd opened a random door in a random corridor and felt her breath catch.

When the Doctor finds her, she's sitting on the floor of a room that has things she's instantly recognized: old toys, favorite blankets, their granddaughter's books. She has a photo album in her lap, quietly looking at each of their children's faces, softly touching the pictures with her fingertips like she can stroke their cheeks again.

She doesn't hear her husband, too lost in memories. ]

[The Doctor's own hearts drop when he finds her. He doesn't come to this room often, if ever. It's too much for him to remember on his own and it's often too much for him to put on the shoulder of his companions. So there it sits, taken care of by the TARDIS ever dutifully.

Of course Clara finds it.

He lingers in the doorway before wandering over to her and sitting down beside her clad in a t-shirt and some black joggers.]

I haven't seen those in a while.

[A while is an understatement.]

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