Clara tucked the sheets around her legs a little tighter and addressed the back of the Doctor's head. He was perched on the edge of the bed aiming his sonic at the door in an attempt to unlock it. She suspected even if he was by chance successful the TARDIS induced cyclone would start up again outside and trap them further, but the idea of confinement was making him distinctly uneasy and he refused to entertain options other than getting out of the room.

He'd been there for an hour and the combined stress of recent events showed on him. He looked terrible, exhausted and dishevelled, his jacket draped over the foot of the bed and his sleeves rolled up. She could see grazes across his forearms and hands from the storm and the confrontation with Missy a week or so ago. She wished he would just rest.

'She won't let up,' Clara said of the TARDIS. 'She's very determined.'

'I know that Clara, she's my ship, we share a certain brand of stubbornness.'

Clara smirked, yes they did but that also meant this could be a long battle.

'It's late, Doctor,' she yawned.

'Well go to sleep,' he said over his shoulder. The sonic buzzed wearily.

'I can't with you doing that.'

At last he sighed and laid the sonic on the bed. 'Fine, I'll stop for now, but first thing…'

'Yes, yes…' Clara tugged the covers over herself and lay back down. She really was quite exhausted and despite her desire to sort things with the Doctor her body was protesting and quite firmly ordering her to rest. She felt him stand, the bed dipping and rebounding under her.

'Um… Clara…?' he said.

'Mmmph?'

'Was there a chair in here before?'

'Don't know, wasn't really looking.'

The Doctor cursed under his breath, 'She's taken my chaise longue.'

'You have a chaise longue?'

'Yes?'

'That's very….' She couldn't find an appropriate word, 'Decadent?' she tried. She imagine him reclining on it in a dressing gown.

He sighed. 'Not decadent, Clara, relaxing. Comfortable.' The bed dipped back down as he sat. Clara swallowed.

'Well lie down here,' she said, 'Your bed is comfortable too.'

Silence.

Clara held her breath. The light went out.

'You can't sit on the end of the bed all night you're still recovering from those injuries,' she said coaxingly.

More silence. Clara sighed.

'You slept in my bed at the flat,' she tried, 'It's the same thing.'

'No I passed out in your bed after… well after you…. Saw to my injuries… and you joined me.'

'Don't split hairs. Lie down.'

There was another pause, she could hear him take a breath and hold it and then quite unexpectedly the bed moved again under her and she heard him move up beside her. She was about to make some sort of semi sarcastic comment to break the tension when she heard his breath hitch again. This time it sounded painful.

'The TARDIS said you were healing, getting treatment,' Clara said, 'How's that coming along.'

'Too slowly for my liking,' he said, his voice a little strained. She felt him shift next to her uncomfortably.

'What kind of injuries did you have?'

'The usual. Massive soft tissue damage, broken ribs, punctured lung.'

Clara spun to face him but his features were obscured by the dim light. 'That's awful.'

'Well its better than it was a week ago.'

'What treatment did you get…? I mean did you get the nano thingies too?'

'Something similar but not as effective…' he paused, 'Our priority was you, Clara, I made do.'

'So… you're still pretty sore?'

He sighed.

Clara swallowed again. 'Anything I can do?'

'No,'

'Where's the worst of it?'

'What?'

'The injury… where's the worst of it, across your back?'

'Yes,' he said irritably, fatigue in his voice, 'a metric ton of TARDIS wall landed on me, so yes the worst of it is across my back.'

Clara winced. 'I could….'

Just say it, you did it before.

Yes but I didn't feel like this before, like some tongue tied schoolgirl.

Say it.

'I could do the massage thing again… with the oil… it helped.'

She could practically hear him tighten every muscle in fear. 'No,' he said sharply. A second later he exhaled and his voice softened. 'I appreciate it Clara, but there's no need. I've already applied the oil.'

'To your back?'

'Well… no…. obviously not there but to the other injuries, the ones I could er.. reach.' He wriggled and then gave up turning on his side away from her to relieve the pressure on the bruising across his shoulders. He made a tiny noise of discomfort.

Clara chewed her lip and watched the profile of his body against the dim background of the room, his ribcage rising and falling in a not quite rhythm still interrupted by pain. God, he could be so…. Infuriating. Cutting off his nose to spite his face. Stubborn, irritating…

This is silly.

She sat up suddenly and reached to the bedside table for the oil the TARDIS had left there oh so deliberately. When she flipped open the cap she immediately recognised the scent as that of the alien healing oil she had used before.

'Take your shirt off,' she said more abruptly that she had intended, her nerves altering her pitch.

The Doctor tried to glare at her over his shoulder but flinched at the movement, 'What? No!'

'Fine,' Clara leaned forward and tugged up the back of his shirt. The Doctor yelped and tried to sit up but the movement only allowed her to pull further and the front of the shirt came loose from his trousers.

'Clara!'

Her fingers quickly undid the buttons.

'Stop… stop!' he tried to take her hands but by the time he had a grip they were already on his chest. He suddenly froze and Clara became aware of his breath landing softly on her face.

'Just… let me help…' she said.

'Clara…' more softly this time. He didn't release her wrists but didn't pull her away.

Tentatively she stroked one hand across his skin, a little shiver of excitement going through her as she caught one of his nipples with her palm and felt it harden under her touch. She could feel his eyes on her even though it was too dark to see detail, just the slight glimmer of light caught in his pupils.

Clara removed her hands and squeezed some oil into one of them, spreading it and returning to his body. He hadn't moved but his breathing had speeded up and she could hear that it was coming through his mouth in tiny pants. When she touched her hands back to his skin she could feel his hearts hammering. She shifted her position closer and began working his flesh, until she was kneeling in front of him, her face close to his, their foreheads almost touching.

'Clara…'

'Shhh…'

Don't. Don't argue, don't give me a list of reasons why. Just be.

'Clara…'

'It's OK,' she whispered.

She heard him swallow. 'My back…' he said with difficulty. Clara hesitated. He was directing her and it was torturously difficult for him. Of course he couldn't reach his back, that's where the worst of it was. She lifted her hands to his shoulders and pushed back his shirt just as she had back in her flat at the start of all of this. But this felt very different. As the material fell away she reapplied more oil to her hands.

'Turn around,' she said.

The Doctor pulled his sleeves from his arms and disposed of his shirt. There was a beat and then she felt his hands wrap around her forearms and guide her closer to him, pulling her into his body and suggesting with his movements that she run her palms up the length of his back from where she sat. They stayed face to face.

He's asking me to hold him. It's dark and he doesn't have to say anything and maybe this is as close to a conversation as we're going to get.

Clara's fingers met with his skin and he hissed with something like pain but quickly relaxed against her again as the oil spread across the damaged areas and her soft touch eased into his injuries. She felt him dip his head against her neck and suddenly a thrill went through her as he nuzzled against her hair and shifted his body closer to her. She thought she could feel him tremble when his arms came up around her and his fingertips touched her tentatively through the fabric of her borrowed shirt. Clara closed her eyes and continued working on his skin, her head resting against his shoulder and a smile forming on her lips.

No words then. Words are awkward.

His hands moved with more confidence now, stroking down to her waist and tugged her tighter towards him. The moment was long and peaceful between them, sealed in a private world, protected and at odds with the chaos they had left outside of them, like the eye of a storm. Slowly Clara found herself longing for more of him but her lips wouldn't move to ask. Then his fingers slipped under the edge of her shirt, his shirt, and pushed slowly up her thighs making her heart leap and the adrenaline trickle through her belly.

How had she never been tempted like this before? Every touch felt like electricity, addictive and powerful.

Perhaps that's why he never touched me.

His hands kept moving upward. Over her belly, to her ribs, cupping her breasts, his thumbs glancing over her nipples. Clara's own breathing picked up and she gasped casing him to hesitate before she bent her head and pressed a soft kiss of reassurance to his chest. He resumed his caresses and then let his fingers continue their journey until unbidden she raised her arms for him to remove the shirt.

For the first time he spoke.

'You're sure?' his voice shook a little.

'Yes,' it was both the most difficult and most easy word she would speak that night.

Her shirt came away and fluttered whitely in the darkness as the Doctor's hands travelled down her spine and pressed her against him, flesh on flesh. A soft noise came from his throat and he quickly pressed his lips against her neck as tough to try and contain it. Clara felt warmth flood across her chest and cheeks, her heartbeat skipping faster. She pressed harder into his skin, pulling her hands down his back with more pressure than she intended and causing him to both whimper and buck.

'Sorry…' she breathed.

'Don't be…' he gathered one arm around her waist and flipped her so that she was on her back with him above her, 'The oil's doing its job just… go a little gently.'

'OK,' she whispered.

'Clara?' he nuzzled against her cheek.

'Mmm?'

His lips trailed along her cheekbone almost to her lips with fluttering delicate touches. She wriggled under him, suddenly needy.

'Let me kiss you…' he murmured and she realised at once how much was hanging between them, how much they both wanted and feared the next step. He could have kissed her, taken her lips in his by now, everything about her body was screaming for him to do so, but he held back, uncertain to the last.

(Am I a good man? Am I good enough?)

Clara turned her head to him a little more and lifted her hands to his hair, tangling her fingers through it, pulling him in closer, her lips finally meeting his.

He grunted and she was suddenly tight in his arms, his body pressing down on her and urging her to accept him. Clara lifted her hips a little and pulled her legs up, capturing him and holding him against her, feeling his hard length trapped between them and the way he jerked into her when she shifted her body. She opened her mouth a fraction and let him slide inside, their kiss deepening to a longed for languid rhythm. She wanted more, but she never wanted the moment to end either. Clara ground up and into him, their breathing picking up in tandem and a series of needy gasps coming from their lips.

At last he made a move to move them further, one of his hands seeking hers and cautiously placing it between them over the clasp of his belt. She could hear the tension in his breathing as he hid his face against her neck in shame of his need. Quickly she drew both her hands down and unbuckled him, finding his zipper and pushing the material away. The Doctor groaned into her and she slipped her hand over the length of him in response eliciting a thrust of his hips and a short 'ah' stuttered against the crook of her neck. That single sound went through her to her core and she was suddenly desperate, encouraging him out of his trousers and then grasping him back to her, her mouth fixed on his and her fingers running almost painfully through his hair. Need had reached a new and pressing level, she could feel it in them both, spiralling and escalating through their bodies as one.

He broke away from her mouth and kissed down her body, slipping backwards easily on the satin sheets and cupping her hips in his hands as he travelled, his lips and tongue making contact with her belly, her inner thighs, her sex. Clara whimpered under his touch and felt her body melt into him, heat and intensity spilling from her in sharp waves, her fingers catching first on the sheets and then impulsively tangling in his hair, touching his face. He was bringing her closer and she could feel her thighs trembling, tensing under his ministrations, her breath coming in rapid shallow pants as lights began to dance behind her eyes.

Her own words came back to her.

We're in this together.

Her heart hammering now, her body a beat away from contracting under his kiss.

Don't leave him behind.

Clara clasped her hands around his face and pulled him back, quick to explain in as few words as possible lest he misinterpret.

'Need you,' she panted and tugged him up her body. He crawled over her, suspending his weight so that he brushed against her with the lightest of caresses but even this made her moan and whimper into his chest. He bent to kiss her, absorbing the sound, letting her taste herself on his tongue and she sought him out with her hips, legs parting wider and hands grasping at his buttocks.

The Doctor broke their kiss with a gasp and Clara felt him press into her, the tip of him just breaching her entrance. She keened against him and drove up with her hips, securing them together and drawing from him a luxurious groan, deep and resonant. For a second he held himself within her as she accommodated his size and then with slow movements pulled back and forward again into her warmth.

They couldn't keep the pace slow for long as each clung tighter to the other and need overrode any pretence of control. Clara, already taken close by his mouth minutes before soon found herself climbing again but this time tightening around his hard cock her fingertips digging into his shoulders drawing sharp hisses from him of mixed pain and pleasure. She tilted her hips to find just the right spot, the first pulse of orgasm beginning, and suddenly his rhythm changed, became more desperate as his own conclusion drove him forward, pounding deep into her body, unable to hold back, his arms becoming tight around her and his breath hitting her neck with the hint of articulated desire. As the waves of her pleasure course through her Clara bucked under him and heard his release growl and cry into her neck as she called out in ecstasy.

With her eyes closed she did not want to break the silence but instead held him against her as his breathing slowed and stilled, dimly aware that from time to time he shuddered with the emotion that fought to claim freedom from his body. She traced soft lines over the muscles of his back and placed kisses on his neck, her cheek becoming wet with his tears.

Still she said nothing.

The minutes ticked by and finally came away from her, rolling slightly to the side but almost immediately engulfing her in his arms again as though afraid she would disappear. Clara rested her head on his chest, sleep beginning to take her as she listened to the steady strong beat of his hearts.

'Do they ache now...?' she whispered drowsily.

His hand squeezed her arm as he held her against him.

'Do they sound like they do?'

XXXXXXXXX

When she woke he was already conscious, his fingers tracing slow patterns on her shoulder as she lay against him. Clara stirred and he froze, leading her to push herself up from his body and look into his face. The Doctor looked as though he had been deep in thought, and that now he was floundering back into reality.

'Hi,' she said quietly. His lips twitched into a slight smile.

'Clara…' he started.

She quickly placed her fingers over his lips. 'I think it's best if we don't dissect,' she said and then immediately regretted her words as a look of utter rejection crossed his face before he caught it and rebuilt his walls.

'Oh… no… of course,' he said, his hand falling away from her shoulder. Her eyes widened.

'No… I don't mean… I mean it was good, it was great… we just don't need to have the… how did you term it? 'Awkward conversation about feelings,' it's ok…'

'We don't?'

'No… I know you find that hard and well… there's no rush, there's no need to…'

'Maybe I want to?' he said. Clara looked at him.

'Oh,' she said.

'Oh,' he echoed.

'Um…'

They watched each other. Clara's mouth went dry.

'The last time we had a talk about feelings,' the Doctor said clearly struggling with the whole theme, 'You poured your heart out and then told me off for replying with 'oh.''

Clara swallowed, 'You… want to pour your heart out?'

'Not really, not very me,' he replied honestly, running a hand through his hair distractedly. 'But we do need to acknowledge what happened. Why it happened,' she nodded, 'And… if we want it to happen again,' he added hesitantly.

She managed another nod.

'So I'm just going to say this, and put it out there and make of it what you will, because I won't be 'dissecting' as you put it, or regularly discussing feelings, because well…' he trailed off and then took a breath.

'You were right,' he said, 'about how miserable the last few months were, and I'm sorry you went through that alone, and that I added to it.'

'You didn't mean to…'

He shushed her.

'Please…' he said, 'Let me finish. 'I added to it, I didn't mean to but then I never do, good intentions don't always make up for mistakes,' he lifted a hand to her hair and slowly combed through it with his fingers, his gaze locked with hers. Something within him seemed to shift gear and as she watched it was as though a mask fell from him, revealing the man she had long suspected lay beneath his new stern exterior. She thought back to the moment in the console room during the storm, before the lights had gone, when she had seen something beautiful and vulnerable within him just for a moment. Now here it was again, but unwavering this time, hers alone if she chose to take it.

'I make mistakes, Clara, and plenty of them, and quite often when I try to make up for them I dig myself in deeper. And my latest, well in retrospect my latest mistake was so obvious and so unnecessary for both of us. Clara, your echoes have been stopping me from making mistakes for centuries…. But I wouldn't let you close enough to do the same.'

'You were trying to keep me safe, physically, emotionally…' she started and he silenced her with a lift of his eyebrows.

'Yes well, I'm particularly hopeless at that,' he smirked and she smiled back.

'My choices, remember,' she said.

'I know,' he sighed, 'Your choices… So make your choice Clara.'

'What are my options?'

He looked at her with that naked gaze and gently touched her cheek. 'I think you know.'

Clara looked back at him and leaned into his touch a little. She felt the heat of their combined bodies under her and the heave of his chest as he breathed, waiting for her reply. His heartbeats thudded under her too, his free arm curled around her back. He felt solid and whole, the scent of him filled her senses and she knew that in his arms last night she had been safe and warm, comforted and sated. She felt the tingle of nerves and excitement and arousal pooling again in her body and tiny sparks of desire triggered by his fingertips.

There was no choice. She had made her choice long ago.

Clara leaned forward and kissed him, pulling back to look deep into his grey-blue eyes.

The eyes of the Oncoming Storm, where both of them would find peace.