Authors Note: Merry Xmas and Happy New Year all. This Chapter's a little longer so consider it an Xmas present. Also if I don't upload the next Chapter within the 2 weeks I usually do it's most likely I had a baby, but not to worry I have a few more Chapters written so I'll update when I can.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

There were no two ways about it, she missed her husband... although missed was such a trite word for the ache in her chest, needed was closer to it. Clara had always missed the Doctor when he wasn't there, even before he was her husband, that year she'd been forced to spend apart from him, though paling into insignificance next to the millennia he'd spent waiting, had been torture enough. Now though she felt the punishment that this clearly was keenly and began to get an idea of the kind of pain she'd put him through these past six months. After all whilst she'd felt she'd needed and had indeed benefited from their time apart, it had been entirely on her terms. She'd set the pace, known even as she waved him off on those days to wait another week, that he would in fact return. And most importantly she'd known that one day soon she'd simply step back inside the TARDIS with him for good.

This though... this was torture and this had been his existence. She had no idea when and if he'd return for her, had no control over how long it might be, no idea what he was doing out there without her, what kind of trouble he was getting into. All she had was an empty bed and the knowledge that it was entirely her own doing. He'd been patient, he'd been the perfect husband in fact these past few months and instead of rewarding that she'd tried to keep her vaunted control over him that little bit longer, to tug the leash she'd unwittingly placed around his neck to breaking point; and the inevitable had happened, it had snapped.

The Doctor was gone. Furious and alone. And God did she want to take back those last few moments. To wrap her arms around him and tell him to take them somewhere blissful, give them a second honeymoon, erase the memories of robots and poison darts and just start over as husband and wife. Though Vastra and Jenny never said anything directly to her about it she felt their disapproval keenly and it only worsened the gnawing guilt in her gut and the ache in her chest.

So of course she tried to call him, once a day, every day for a month. He didn't pick up. Clara set the phone down uneasily and hugged her knees closer to her chest as she stared at the silent plastic object on her Victorian nightstand from her large empty bed. She supposed she deserved a taste of her own medicine a little, to have to be the one to wait for him. What was a month when he had waited millennia only to be rejected by her for being a darker... older, less agreeable version of himself when he'd finally managed to crawl from the ruins of Trenzalore.

Three months later

Her phone smashed against the wall with a satisfying crash, shattering into a thousand plastic and metal pieces and no doubt disturbing the other occupants of the house, who would out of sheer Victorian propriety not come to investigate why she was making such a damn racket in the middle of the night.

Clara stared at the pieces and felt her hands curl into fists. This wasn't fair, she'd had genuine reason to need time apart, several in fact. So she'd maybe strung him along a little too much, she didn't deserve to be stranded in Victorian London worried sick about him. Slumping heavily into the arm chair that had been so frequently his she buried her hands in her hair and tried not to let a sob wrack her.

"I'm sorry!" she hissed into the empty room. "Please just come back."

Of course her silent pleas, the one she'd whispered almost every night for months went unanswered and she felt hot tears splash across her cheeks. Closing her eyes she projected the thought inward, grasping the sonic that had once been her lifeline to a different version of him and willing her thoughts along the telepathic link it had once created. Even as she did it she knew it was futile. The energy from the rift that had powered the link was long gone, as was her connection to the man who'd created it. In his place was another, more restrained mind, one that was deliberately closed to her now.

Her fingers curled around the metal and she bowed her head feeling the hum of it go through her unique wedding band and she blinked... her head shot up and she stared at the ring on her finger and then back at the sonic. Two aspects of the same thing, the TARDIS. Clara stood and stared between the two of them, turning the sonic over in her fingers and pointing it at the remnants of the key that now made up her ring. She supposed she'd tried everything else, why not see if the Old Girl was listening, after all you couldn't fly the TARDIS by remote, but you could sure as hell call out for a lift.

Clara flooded her thoughts with mental projections of home, of the Doctor, of anything to get the TARDIS' attention as she ramped up the settings on the sonic, pointing it directly at the ring on her left hand which had begun to glow faintly emitting a warm heat against her skin. There was no way of knowing if she was doing it correctly, all she could do was hope, praying out to a sentient machine to bring her husband back to her.

Apparently the Old Girl was listening. The sound of the engines broke through the silence of her moonlight dappled room and Clara clutched the sonic tightly to her chest, staring in mild disbelief that the familiar blue box was indeed materialising in her bedroom. She could and did decide to kiss the fully materialised doors, her hands lingering on the paintwork for a moment as she rushed towards them, feeling the distinctive brush of the TARDIS' telepathic circuits all but embracing her once more.

"I missed you too." She murmured, her fingers tracing the distinctive badges on the front of the doors. "Thank you." She offered, pulling the door outwards to let her in and hurrying inside in case the Doctor took back control from the Old Girl and decided to fly away once more.

She needn't have worried, the control room was empty... and in disarray. Clara stood in the entrance staring in mild horror at the sight. His chalk boards were full, there were papers everywhere, books strewn and torn about, items and doohickeys half dismantled, and almost everywhere there was the same word scrawled in his elegant script that she'd know anywhere... 'LISTEN'.

Cautiously and aware with sudden and startling clarity that the Doctor had always teetered on the brink of madness she stepped into the chaos, carefully shifting around the objects and trying not to look too closely at drawings of her that littered the floor. Some perfectly beautiful, others far more disturbing, one such caught her eye and she gasped turning away and toeing the offending picture under something else to cover it. They were just fantasies she surmised, warped thoughts from his clearly addled mind trying to process his anger with her. They didn't mean anything... other than that she needed to find him.

"Where is he?" she asked the Old Girl aloud, not surprised when a trail of lights materialised on the floor and ran up to a wall for her to follow out of the control room. Clara moved towards it but as she did the door vanished leaving a smooth metal surface and she stopped turning back to look at the matrix understanding perfectly the Old Girl's sentiment. "I'm not going to hurt him, I promise you, I'm here to help him." She promised, hating that she had to. The lights flashed but the door didn't budge and Clara looked between it, the flashing matrix and the chaotic console room taking it all in and bowing her head in realisation. "I'm home Old Girl. I promise. I won't leave again, I won't leave him again." The door didn't budge and Clara frowned staring back at the machine and feeling the pull of her telepathic circuits. "I won't leave you again either." She amended and the door slid up, but not before the Old Girl brushed her with the distinct desire for caution. Clara nodded perfectly aware that following the Doctor into the depths of his madness was probably not the wisest decision she'd ever made, but then she'd been the one to shove him over that edge, he was still clinging to her she could feel it in every wild thump of his hearts... she'd be damned if she wasn't going after him.

She didn't need the TARDIS lighting her way towards him, which whilst oddly helpful was also slightly ominous, as if the Old Girl really couldn't afford for her to get lost. Also it was mostly unnecessary he seemed to have left a trail of breadcrumbs in the form of empty bottles that littered the walkways. She suspected given as the TARDIS could dematerialise waste and rubbish that they had been left their deliberately either for her or for him, the TARDIS' way of showing her disapproval.

"What has he been drinking?" she asked the Old Girl, watching as information flickered up on the wall which had suddenly become an electronic interface. Clara blinked staring at the scrawling information and bit the knuckle of her index finger, not having realised her nervous gesture had returned and she hastily dropped it, gripping her hands into fists. Right. Not good. She glanced at the offending bottles one more time and surmised that he'd probably been drinking for a very long time, most likely since she'd stepped out of the TARDIS and into Victorian London without him for the first time. "Has it addled his brain?" Clara asked uneasily the side effects of his wretched drink of choice sounded horrific, but she was forced to wait and watch helplessly as the TARDIS complied and pulled up his medical information, displaying her assessments. No permanent damage, toxin filtering system requires engagement. Well that was a relief at least, she just had to get him clean again and he'd be fine, at least there were some perks to marrying an alien who was physically incapable of becoming a raging alcoholic. But that didn't help her with the realisation that she'd clearly driven him to want to be.

Clara reached her hand up brushing the flickering image of her husband's internal structure and hoping that she really could fix this. She's just wanted time to get her own head straight, not utterly upend his. The image vanished and she concentrated on putting one somewhat heavier foot in front of the other as she traversed the corridors realising that she was being led towards the library. She'd barely managed a step inside the darkened halls when she was grabbed violently around the waist and a hand clamped over her mouth.

"Shhhh..." his accent was distinctive, as was his mostly unwashed smell and she managed not to bite him with the shock of it as she was pulled back into a dark corner feeling the press of him against her. "They are watching... hiding." He hissed.

Clara found that statement somewhat more alarming until she recalled just how many bottles she'd seen littering the TARDIS floor. But he wasn't exactly giving her many options her mouth was firmly prised shut so she merely nodded, feeling it loosen.

"Good." He murmured, then he seemed to pause, his hand around her waist tightened reflexively as he seemed to examine her. "You're getting better at the hard-light voice interface Old Girl." He sighed, burying his head in her neck, "You even got her smell right this time."

Clara froze and an unpleasant suspicion formed as he finally lowered his hand from her mouth. "Doctor... I'm real." She told him quietly.

He barked out a laugh that was almost callous. "Oh yes... this game again. But not right now, I'm not in the mood. There are beasties lurking in the shadows."

Clara turned in his grasp, her hands going up to capture his face in her hands, startled at how wide his pupils were, there was hardly any blue left in his irises as she tried to get him to focus on her but those same eyes were darting all over the room. "Doctor. Look at me. It's me, really me, your Clara." She tried to insist, but he just scoffed and threw her hands roughly off his face.

"Not now Old Girl. Disengage visual interface." He tried to shove past her but she was unmoving and she grasped his wrists.

"I'm just going to pretend I haven't heard any of that..." Clara managed weakly, thinking it was probably for the best that she didn't dwell on the idea of the TARDIS taking her shape, especially not with some sort of hard-light drive to make her solid. "But you need to stop and look at me. Because this is me. I summoned the TARDIS and she came. I'm home." She told him firmly and he finally looked at her face, his mouth opening and closing but no words seemed to come out and for the first time she realised there was a tremor to his hands that she imagined was probably the drink... or the lack of sleep, she hadn't seen him look this bad since he'd had to regenerate. He took in a rattling breath and his hands went to her face with unnerving strength as he spun them, shoving her hard into the stacks and pushing them deeper into the shadows.

"Clara?" he hissed, his fingers traced across her lips and down her nose, until he leant in and quite deliberately licked her neck, leaning back to analyse the taste.

"Who else would I be?" she hissed, finding his behaviour harder to handle than she'd hoped.

"Active camouflage, possibly... it's an ingenious method of hiding."

Clara grasped his wrists trying to get him to let up on his grip as she leant forward, her breath mingling with his and she could smell the sweet scent of the drink there. "I'm here, I'm home and I'm sorry it's taken me so long. But I need you to sober up and tell me what the hell is going on."

He cocked his head as if examining her. "Can't." He murmured. "Too much to do, got to find them."

Clara nodded, as he pulled away and she considered all the words she could say, she considered simply snogging him until he surrendered but in the end the large heavy book was in her hand before she really considered it as she hefted it with enough strength to have him stumbling and looking back at her in shock his hand to his damaged head... before she smacked him again and he slumped to his feet unconscious.

"You silly old man." She murmured, ducking down to cradle his damaged head as she took in his severely careworn appearance, "What on Earth have you done to yourself?" She could hardly believe that this was because of her... she'd thought him so much stronger than that, could never have really conceived that this version of him would need her this badly. His Bow Tied self would have missed her, terribly so, and he had, but he hadn't driven himself to this state over it, he'd just get on busying himself with the next adventure. Whilst her ego was a little thrilled with the proof of how much she meant to him, the more astute part of her realised the more dangerous and frankly disturbing implications. But she had no choice, this was her doing, she had to fix it.

The Doctor blinked, his eyes shooting open as he scanned the area, his head pounding with remembered pain. He'd been knocked unconscious... possibly by his wife, which seemed unlikely on both counts. He was in his bed, wrapped in a blanket, naked and he felt and smelt distinctly cleaner than he last recalled. He glanced down the bedcovers at himself and frowned. He looked up just in time to see Clara walk through the door, she was wearing the red silken nightdress and robe. The ones he'd forbidden the TARDIS from replicating in his simulations.

He closed his eyes. He'd clearly lost his mind, finally. The bed bowed and he flinched, trying to focus on banishing the apparition, this clearly wasn't the Old Girl, she knew better than to torment him, which meant it was his addled mind. He really needed to flush his system of that god forsaken drink; he didn't want to see her right now.

Her fingers touched his skin and his eyes shot open finding her soft brown ones inches from him as she eased onto the bed beside him. "It's me, I'm not an hallucination or a projection. Just me." She promised and he snorted with derision, 'that was what they always said'.

"You were filthy so I gave you a sponge bath." She explained looking nervous, "I'm sorry but I couldn't really hold you up in the shower, or pull you out of an actual bath." He frowned at her, absorbing the words as his hands rose to his own face as he felt the brush of her breath across his newly sensitive chin. "I shaved you." She added, indicating his smooth chin.

She was real. His Clara. Even his own depraved mind had never conjured the idea of her sponging and shaving him, it was just something a wife would do on finding her husband in such a state and he was momentarily stunned. His mouth had other ideas though. "You hit me." It ground out, a little hoarsely and he tried to suppress the wince that of all the things he'd wanted and dreamt of saying to her since he'd thrown her off his ship in a fit of pique, that hadn't been it.

She looked down at her hands, not meeting his eyes, "Yes, I'm sorry, but you were practically delirious. I didn't want you to hurt yourself... or me." She admitted still not looking at him.

He absorbed that quietly, his eyes taking in her features as she sat merely inches from him. It had been far too long... he wasn't entirely sure how long, he couldn't bear to count the passage of time so he'd merely let it drift. He wondered how long it had been for her. His somewhat lethargic mind reminded him of her words from before the head injury, that she'd summoned the TARDIS. Perhaps it had been only minutes for her since Sherwood. Days maybe, even weeks. Nothing.

"You left me." She accused albeit lightly her tone uneasy as if she wasn't sure where they stood now, but the words hit him like her blow to the head had.

"Yes." He admitted, watching as her fingers crept towards his hand and slid along his fingers, tracing the outline of them and smoothing over the knuckles. He expected a few things after that; mostly a verbal lashing. What he didn't expect was the tears that leaked from her eyes to run in rivulets down her cheeks.

"Please don't do that again... not like that." Her plea was raw and he felt something tear at his chest, 5ft 1 and crying, he never stood a chance. He reached for her, pulling her into his arms and onto his chest, burying his face against her hair and just holding her whilst she sobbed. Why was he always making his wife cry? Why couldn't he just make her happy, like he used to?

He knew he should apologise, say something to soothe her but the words wouldn't come, he wasn't in the least bit sorry for stranding her, he'd needed her away if she wouldn't truly be his wife... and certainly not if stranding her had worked exactly as he'd hoped and had her miss him enough to come back all of her own accord. Manipulative bastard, wasn't that what she always accused? He held her tighter, turning them over until he was pinning her beneath him and lifted his head to take in the sight of her that no simulation or memory could ever surpass.

"How long?" he asked quietly, his fingers tracing down her throat across the gentle swell of her breasts hidden beneath the silken gown.

"Three months." She replied, her eyes wide and reddened as she stared up at him almost hesitantly.

He nodded, biting back the comment, it had been so much longer for him, but then who's fault was that he supposed? "And are you here to stay this time, or was this just a social call to check in on the errant husband?"

She bit her lip and he brushed his thumb over the pinkened flesh as she released it, sliding more fully on top of her and enjoying the way his nakedness felt against the silk and skin of her.

"I'm home." She admitted quietly, looking away and he grasped her chin firmly forcing her face back onto his, wanting to see the truth written there. "For good." She added knowing what he needed to hear. It wasn't the glowing declaration of undying love and devotion from her he craved, but he would take it.

He nodded grimly, not wanting to trust the swell of emotions the thought brought and how it alleviated the ache in his chest just yet. His wife had learnt a lot from him, lying amongst the first of her borrowed skills. He let his hands trace a path down her sides, brushing lightly as he went, remapping her shape.

"But..." she started and he tensed his hands tightening their grip as he shot her a dark look, his hearts beginning to thump wildly with barely suppressed rage, she would not do this again, she would not torment him further! As his overactive mind conjured all the 'buts' she might declare. "You have to stop drinking that awful stuff." She asked quietly and he felt the tension leave him slightly at her perfectly reasonable request, "I need you to purge your system of it, I can't I tried but your physiology is complicated and mostly under your own control from what the TARDIS explained to me."

He grunted and dropped his head to her throat, kissing the soft skin there and merely inhaling the scent of her as it wrapped around him like a comforting balm. "Fine. I don't need it if you're here." He conceded and he felt her chest release a puff of air in what he assumed was relief.

"I also deleted every one of those visual voice interface programmes." Her tone was sharper now, more confident and he felt her fingers grip into his short hair, the nails just a whisper against his scalp; a warning. He remained still, thinking it perhaps for the best if he not respond at all to that, but he was curious to know if she'd viewed them all beforehand, if she knew the lengths to which his depraved mind had occasionally taken him. "I didn't look." She answered his unasked question, "The idea was bad enough, besides your fantasies are your own. And given the situation I'm going to give you a onetime only pass on it." Her fingers gripped his hair and she tugged him up sharply enough that he had to look her in the eyes which had darkened and her nostrils flared wonderfully with her anger. "But if you so much as think about creating another one of those, it will be the only type of sexual release you get from me ever again."

His mouth curved up into a smirk as he buried his lips against her throat again biting down a little sharply, "Yes boss." He murmured, knowing that he had no need of his little diversions any more. But his mind was whirring having her here beneath him, knowing that she'd missed him, needed him, had to come back and was willingly lying beneath him even knowing the state he'd let himself fall into. He'd always thought she had all of the power in this relationship, certainly emotionally and sexually, he couldn't help but tease her with it now.

"Don't I at least get bonus points for the fact that I could have conjured the image of anyone, anywhere... and all I wanted was yours?" He punctuated his last word with a press of his hips angling them into her pelvis and letting her feel how many points he thought he actually deserved for that.

She let out a sound close to a groan and he smirked again, as she buried her lips against his own neck and bit him without much gentleness. "No." she muttered, "That just tells me that your brain is less addled than I feared. Even drunk you weren't stupid enough to cheat on me, even in your imagination." Her words were betrayed slightly by the slight quirk to her lips.

He barked out a laugh and grasped her hands pinning them beside her head and capturing those same tormenting lips firmly, taking his time to explore her mouth as her hips arched lightly up into him on instinct. "Stop." She bit out and tried to free her hands, he pulled back looking down at her incredulously, his dick was already long and hard and he could smell her arousal, even feel the dampness if he angled his hips just right, welcoming him in. Surely she wasn't serious?

"Go purge that crap out of your system however it is you do it. I want you sober in this bed."

He felt something close to a snarl tear from him and he pinned her harder into the bed, his lips inches from her. "And I want you now. One of our wants is going to have to give here." He added darkly, having no intention of it being his for once.

Clara glared up at him, "Do as you are told." She commanded and his dick twitched, forcing him to suppress a shudder at the way her words rolled over him, God he wanted to bend to her will, nothing made him harder, or want her more than when she was trying to control him.

"Compromise." He rasped, his hands going beneath her and lifting her firmly from the bed ignoring her gasp of surprise as her legs slotted around his hips out of necessity as she clung to his shoulders. He turned them and stumbled the steps to the dresser, dropping her ass onto it and stepping firmly between her legs. "We're not in the bed anymore, and I get you now. Then I'll purge my system." It was as reasonable a compromise as he thought he could manage right now.

Her look was like molten fire but her thighs tightened around his hips as he pressed the head of himself into her inner thigh, sliding upwards as he hiked her nightgown up. Her hands went to his wrists but for once he could feel the way she was trembling and he smirked up at her, giving her the twinkling blue eyed gaze this face at least could pull off. "You missed me." He reminded her, her fingers loosened fractionally as he just brushed the outside of her sex with his now painfully hard dick, her eyes fluttered shut for a moment and her mouth parted. He bent catching those same lips. "We've both waited long enough don't you think." He baited, clutching her ass and angling her so that his next gentle thrust was against her clit. He wanted her to surrender he realised and it had nothing to do with control this time, he just wanted to see her walls crumble, for her to trust him enough to let that happen, to know she didn't need to control him every moment.

"Clara." He rasped against her lips, sucking her tongue deeply into his mouth and relishing the taste and feel of her. "My Clara... this is home remember." He offered and he watched her eyes open onto his. Her legs shifted firmly around his hips and with a single flex of them she had drawn him against her centre. He stared back, pressing a gentle kiss to her now reddened lips and let the head of his all but weeping cock dip inside of her. Even that contact was like a lightening bolt through his fried nervous system and he considered that she had probably been right about purging himself first... but it was too late now and he'd be damned if he'd let her know she'd been right. He slid his hands along her thighs, shifting them higher as he slid slowly and deeply into her welcoming wet heat not bothering to suppress his groan of sheer pleasure at the sensation. He always said he was custom built for her... but he didn't think he'd ever told her that the reverse was also therefore true. She pulsed around him deliciously as she stretched to accommodate him, always so tight for him creating the delicious friction he craved.

In a way he almost wished this was all he craved... her body and the pleasures they could bring one another. Though difficult he could learn to live without it, to find alternatives. But it wasn't just that, he craved all of her, the sight, the sound, the sharp wit, the lively mind, her gentle mothering, the control freak and the egomaniac, the tormenting siren, even her righteous fury. Everything about her seemed designed to draw him in and keep him there. The bumbling Bow-Tied idiot he'd been had no idea, if he'd had, he'd have run a mile from that kind of dependency. But then it would have been both of their loss. There was something to be said for surrendering control of your hearts and even your sanity to someone else. Something freeing in it that softened out the utter terror. But of course he knew what it was to be without her now, the feeling of loss, the spiral... he wouldn't let it happen again.

Clara's voice roused him gently from his thoughts, "Stay with me." Her voice surprised him as did the hands that she placed gently on his cheeks, drawing his eyes and his mind back to her in this moment, clearly having noticed his lapse, even if it was to think of her.

"Always." He groaned thrusting smoothly into her, ignoring her attempts to increase his pace as he focussed on brushing her clit with every long powerful stroke. He wanted her to quake with need, to scream her release for him.

"Doctor please, harder." She pleaded breathlessly and he all but lifted her, leaning into her to improve his angle and finding those extra centimetres he needed to bring the friction between their pelvises to a fever pitch. "Oh God." She managed and he swallowed the rest of her words and sounds, her mouth almost slack against him as her entire body trembled with her release and he squeezed his eyes shut against the sensation of her fluttering all around him, trying to bring him with her. Her hands rose to clutch at the back of his head as it became apparent he wasn't stopping, his long slow thrusts continuing like a metronome inside of her and she clung to him desperately as he rode out her orgasm, taking particular attention to build another. He pressed his forehead to hers and pushed into her mind, she was unprepared and he took advantage, letting loose in there every fantasy he'd entertained about her, every agonising moment she'd forced them apart, the sheer flood of emotion and feeling her touch bought in him after convincing himself she would never return.

Her head fell back and he caught it cradling her even as he pressed her to his chest to hold her as the convulsion tore through her strong enough to rip the raw scream from her that he'd wanted. Only then did he let himself go, thrusting wildly into her until he was spilling himself deep inside of her, every ounce of pent up frustration leaving him as he let her inner walls milk him. He fell heavily against her, panting and feeling the twitch of his spent cock within her softening as he refused to relinquish her trembling form just yet. Her breath was warm and heavy against his chest and he could feel the quivering of her body beneath him, her hands clutching him released slowly until they fell in quite patterns against his sides, as if she couldn't bear to release his skin either.

"You do realise the day I met you, it utterly ruined me for other men." She murmured kissing his now smooth chin, before the effort seemed to exhaust her and she fell back as far as the dresser would allow.

He smirked. "It was the general idea." He forced his protesting muscles to work as he lifted her around his waist, slipping from her regretfully and moving them both back to the bed, dropping her lightly on it. He paused, standing beside it and closing his eyes, wiggling his left foot.

"What on Earth are you doing?" she asked and he cracked one eye open, seeing her arched eyebrow as she watched him all but hop on one foot with faint amusement.

"Purging..." he replied, feeling the heat pooling in his left foot as he focussed every inch of his vasculature and lymphatic system to expel the toxins he'd forced into his body over the past God knows how long. There was a deep stinging as he felt it leave his foot and he hopped vigorously, hissing slightly and rubbing his foot into the cool metal floor until it passed, leaving him surprisingly clear headed and refreshed.

"Quite finished?" she asked coquettishly and he nodded smugly at her look of envy, she was clearly wishing a human hangover could be dealt with quite so effectively.

"Finished?" he leapt onto the bed with a laugh of delight as he pinned her beneath him again. "Oh I'm more than refreshed, I'm positively... raring." He let her feel the evidence of that against her stomach and her eyes widened in surprise.

"You've been a wicked, wicked wife." He reminded her, divesting her of the nightclothes she'd managed to retain in quick measure, before leaning in to nip at her pert breasts, the dark nipples standing out and all but begging for his attention as he sucked on one then the other. "Punishment is in order." He added blowing warm air across said nipples and watching the skin grow harder in delight, she had a moment to give him one curiously dark look as he met her eyes with a grin of his own, before he flipped her over and pressed himself against her back grabbing the silken nightgown she'd been wearing and with determination tearing it into strips.

"Hey!" she protested slightly and he straddled the back of her thighs, pressing the palm of his hand against her lower back to keep her there.

"She'll make you another one." He promised, knowing that if the TARDIS didn't he damn well would. The strips in hand he reached for her right wrist and wrapped the silk tightly around it before bringing the left one to it and binding them together firmly enough that even he'd struggle to break free. He let them fall above her head and admired the sight of her stretched out on her stomach beneath him, bound. She had very rarely ever let him bind her, not compared to the times she'd enjoyed seeing him this way, and if she had it had been within her ability to break free. He felt the tension of the act pool between her shoulder blades and in the tightening of her thighs beneath him.

He flipped her over onto her back her bound hands coming down to her chest; that would never do. He tore free another stretch of silk and grasped her linked hands, lifting them up until they were closer to the wooden frame of his bed that held the canopy. He looped the silk around and through the silk at her wrist binding her firmly to it and gave an experimental tug to test before he slid his hands back to her body, lying her diagonally now across the vast expanse of his sheets.

He paused rocking back on his heels as he straddled her again, staring down at her oddly compliant form and asking without a word if he could continue. Her eyes were wide and black, her breathing heavy as it lifted her chest and those pert dark rosebud tipped breasts of hers inched closer to him. He ran his thumbs over them, feeling the skin pebble and harden beneath his touch as her stomach arched her back a fraction to bring her closer to his touch. He pulled back, reaching for the much maligned nightgown and tearing free another strip of silk, watching her curious excited eyes as they absorbed his every move. He raised it to her head and didn't give her the time to think about it as he slipped it over her eyes and tied it firmly, cutting off the sense but robbing him of her reactions.

"Doctor?" she voiced and he pressed a finger to her lips, following it up with a kiss that he hoped left her searing because it sure enough left him light headed.

"Shhhh." He rasped, flicking his tongue into her ear lobe and drawing a shudder from her in surprise as he trailed his fingers down her sternum to her naval. "Some fantasies are better shared." He murmured, reaching down to his once again hardening cock and brushing it through the neat dark thatch of hair between her legs. She arched in response beneath him and he heard the telltale trip of her heartbeat as she recalled just what fantasies he'd chosen to share with her in their moment of connected passion.

He pulled away, stepping off the bed to leave her lying there exposed and vulnerable as she craned her head trying to see through the silk as to what he was doing. He cocked his head observing her. "I have a question for you Clara." He began and she turned towards his voice, her lips pursing.

"Now?" she asked pulling lightly at her restraints to indicate her position.

"It would seem ideal, you are hardly in a position to protest." He murmured and he watched in mild delight as colour suffused her cheeks, but the question did need to be broached, it wouldn't leave him. Had in fact been plaguing him, and whilst he was free of the toxins that had clouded his judgement, it hadn't cleared him of the damn question.

"Why do we talk out-loud when we know we're alone?" her covered features frowned and he stood stalking silently around the room his eyes transfixed on her naked clearly uneasy form as his mind whirled.

"I don't kn..." she began and he interrupted.

"Conjecture... because we know we're not." Her head shot around to track his new position clearly startled by this current line of questioning.

"Doctor I don't..." she tried once again and once again he cut her off.

"Evolution perfects survival skills Clara. There are perfect hunters. There is perfect defence."

"Yes but what does this have to do..."

He cut her off for the last time. "So my question is why is there no such thing as perfect hiding?" he waited a beat seeing the question stir her curiosity in the way her entire body tensed and her hands tugged once more on the restraints. "Answer... how would you know?" he let that idea hang between them and saw her tension become palpable. "Logically, if evolution were to perfect a creature whose primary skill were to hide from view, how could you know it existed?" he moved around the room silently, watching as she tried to track him. "It could be with us every second and we would never know." He saw the swallow she took, the uneasy shiver that went through her body as she turned her head from side to side, the idea finally taking route. "How would you detect it, even sense it?" he brushed the bed and she startled lightly surprised to find him so close, "Except in those moments when, for no clear reason you choose to speak aloud? What would such a creature want?" he paused. "What would it do?" he brushed his hand between her legs featherlight and she let out a shriek, arching into his hand as he chuckled with raw delight as he felt her trembling beneath his touch before he withdrew; but just as he suspected behind the sudden flash of fear he'd managed to spike he sensed her arousal. That was his Clara, an adrenalin junky to the last.

"You ass!" she bit out, pulling now on her bindings but interestingly she didn't ask to be released.

"What would you do Clara given such a skill?" he teased genuinely curious.

If this was a new form of torture for what he considered her transgressions Clara was surprisingly ok with it, as she all but subconsciously felt her thighs rub together at the provocative nature of his questions and even blindfolded she could feel the heat of his gaze on her. She had no answer to his provocative question though, possibly because most of her blood flow had now centred between her legs, made worse by the idea that she was preoccupied with wondering what he was doing... or planning in her blinded state.

But his line of eerie questions weren't done apparently and she almost screamed in frustration for him to simply touch her. "Proposition Clara." The word in his Scottish brogue had her stomach fluttering, "What if no one is ever really alone? What if every single living being has a companion, a silent passenger, a shadow? What if the prickle on the back of your neck, is the breath of something close behind you?"

He chose that moment to let his own breath flutter warmly across her breasts and she clamped her mouth down tightly so as to contain her cry of surprise this time.

Irritation and frustration, warred with her arousal and excitement, "That purging thing was all an act wasn't it, you're still high as a kite aren't you?" irritation won out momentarily she noted as she lifted her head to stare blindly in the direction she thought he was, her silken bonds straining as she planted her feet trying to get purchase on the silky sheets beneath her. But his questions piqued her interest despite the state of heightened arousal he'd managed to get her into seemingly effortlessly, which given the state she'd found him in really said something about his magnetism this face round. Although she was forced to recall some of what he'd been rambling about in his intoxicated state... that something was hiding in the ship.

"Oh God, tell me there's not something in here with us, that I haven't let you tie me up naked to a bed when there's something hunting us from the shadows?" She pulled her legs upwards close to her chest and rolled onto her side as much as her bindings would allow in an attempt to be somehow less vulnerable. His strong cool hands went around her ankles and she did let out a cry of surprise that time as he tugged her legs back down and she felt the bed dip with his weight as he came to kneel between her thighs, not touching... but she could feel the feint heat emanating from him.

"What if there's always been something in here with us?"

Clara felt his hands slide up her calves and she was torn between arousal and genuine alarm. "Okay either seduce me or terrify me, but for God's sake pick one because the two together is genuinely disturbing." She managed as his hands slid up higher to her thighs. He chuckled darkly and she kicked out at him lightly, only to find his grip tightening as he continued to pull her by her legs towards him.

"Now now, or I'll tie your ankles to the other post." He warned and she took him seriously enough to not attempt it again. "Besides since when do you want to pick between fear and arousal... you get as turned on as I do by the thrill running for your life gives you." He pointed out and she chose not to dignify that with an answer, mostly because she thought he was probably right.

"Are we in danger right now?" she asked coolly, not putting it past him to take the time to shag her senseless in the middle of a crisis. It was hard to judge his answers though when she couldn't see his face, he was a good liar at the best of times and all she had to go on was his voice at the moment which he had dropped an octave to purr his little nightmare inducing lines at her in.

His breath ghosted across her inner thigh and she bucked slightly in surprise at the sensation. "Do you feel in danger?" he teased, his grip on her ankles tightening as he took the opportunity of her distraction to bring them together swiftly and lift them straight up as he pressed his front to the back of her thighs. It was more than a little exposed a position to be in and she actually considered his question as his fingers splayed out across her stomach, his touch everywhere but where she wanted it. But his grip on her was strong, the strength of his fingers of one hand around both her ankles, the feel of his thighs against her, the sound of his breath, he was the Doctor and her husband, and whilst on occasion she was a little afraid of him, she knew that right now like this with him, she had never been safer... even if there was something hiding in the shadows.

"Good girl." He rasped, sensing the relaxation that spread like a wave through her. "But you still have to be punished." He murmured biting the back of her knee lightly before spreading a trail of kisses up her leg to her ankle. She felt his right hand slide down the back of her exposed thighs as he pulled her legs up a little higher until her ass was barely touching the sheets and she realised she really had only herself to blame for the way their sexual relationship had developed as she gripped onto the silken bindings at her wrists tensing expectantly. He didn't disappoint his hand came down hard on her ass cheek and she bucked at the sharp sting, but pressed her lips into a thin line. She'd made him take his punishment in silence what seemed like an age ago to her now when she'd first changed their dynamic.

"Oh no, no, no." he rasped his erection hard again as he slid it between the softer flesh of her closed thighs thrusting lightly too high for her to derive any satisfaction from the delicious friction. "Silence was your trick... I want you to scream for me."

Clara swallowed hard. "Then I suggest you make me!" She bit out, feeling the familiar sensation of butterflies and coiled tension in her stomach that being this close to him always bought out.

His hand landed soundly on her ass cheeks again, taking up her challenge as he started up a pattern of hard and soft slaps against the sensitive skin, occasionally rising upwards to the backs of her thighs until she was writhing faintly in the need to contain her cries. Then his hand connected solidly across her sex and she shrieked, the pain spiking into pleasure as he slapped the same spot again, making sure to catch her clit this time. He continued to rain torturous blows down across her skin and her sex until she was sobbing, her head thrashing as she bit down against her lips trying to angle her body away from him even as she bucked towards him, torn between the duelling sensations of pleasure and pain.

Mercifully he stopped, her legs dropping and falling open almost bonelessly as she prayed that he might take pity on her no doubt glistening sex and put her out of her misery, even the feel of the silk sheet against the enflamed skin of her backside was torment. "Please." She pleaded and she heard him chuckle darkly, the arousal she could hear in his tone only further increasing her own. Strong hands gripped her hips and flipped her over onto her stomach before straddling the backs of her thighs pressing her enflamed centre into the cool sheets and rubbing painfully against the now reddened skin on the backs of her legs. His hands went to her ass again and she took in a hissed breath at the feel of their coolness against the raw flesh, before he slowly started to knead the cheeks firmly, cupping and fondling.

"Tell me." He asked quietly and she bit down on her lip as he ran a finger along the cleft of her cheeks, tracing down until he was able to slowly press one long finger into the puckered hole of her ass as she drew in a shocked breath at the intrusion. "Tell me what I want to hear." He reiterated when she did little more than pant at the situation, curling her fingers tighter around the bindings at her wrists as he slid his finger deftly in and out, his thighs pressing into the backs of hers and rocking her hips into the sheets until she couldn't help but moan at the feeling.

"I'm yours." She bit out knowing exactly what he'd wanted her to say and she felt his hand against her lower back, pressing her further into the sheets as he slipped another finger into twin with his other. Clara let out a cry at the sensation and buried her head pulling taut against the bindings as he began to stretch her. The pain pleasure of it continued until his other hand dipped between her legs and he slid two fingers into her dripping centre overtaking her with pleasure.

"TELL ME!" he insisted his voice vibrating down the back of her neck as he leant over her his fingers sliding deeper into her from both angles and she shuddered violently at the dual sensation.

Clara turned her head, her blindfold stealing her sight but she could feel his eyes on her face, waiting... "I love you, God please, I love you." She felt him hesitate and she swallowed her pride and what remained of her anger knowing that they both needed her to let it go. "I'm sorry."

"Knees; get on your knees." He rasped his voice sounding strained as he withdrew his fingers from her she tried not to cry out at the loss and chase his touch but his chuckle suggested he knew as she obeyed and used the bindings at her wrists to pull herself up to her knees. He slotted behind her, his thighs pressed close and she felt the palm of his hand whisper along her spine until his fingers settled at the back of her head and he pushed her head forward and down. Her forehead touched the sheets and her ass remained somewhat indecently and probably tantalisingly up in the air. "Why are you always such a temptation." He murmured his hand tracing patterns along her back as she fought not to push back into the erection she knew was probably already weeping, thick and long and as eager for her as she was for him. But he was more patient this face around, he'd demonstrated that admirably even if she'd turned a blind eye to it recently.

"Beg me." He asked quietly his hands stroking and caressing her ass, the still sensitive flesh causing her to grit her teeth as her sex throbbed with need.

She sighed gently. "Please, husband just fuck me, make me come." Her use of the f-word always had been a raging turn on to this version of him and she heard the sharp intake of breath it caused him now and she smirked into the sheets, pleased she wasn't entirely powerless like this. But whereas she'd expected the sudden hard thrust of him into her she was disappointed when his warmth left her body and she turned her head trying to see beyond the darkness of her blindfold. The bed moved and dipped and she felt him shift her thighs further apart, before the softness of his hair brushed her inner thighs. It took her a moment to realise his intent before her hips were roughly grasped and she was bought down onto his waiting mouth. The sound she released was anything but dignified as his tongue slid along her slick folds, but as it darted along and inside caressing she realised the pressure was all wrong to bring her release... just prolong her torment. She angled her hips trying to gain more pressure where she needed it, shamelessly rocking into his mouth only to find is strong hands holding her hips in place and she screamed in frustration as he nipped at her inner thigh and blindfolded or not she could feel his smirk.

"You utter bastard." She hissed, her fingers going white from frustration as she tugged at her bonds, certain she'd have found a use for that belt on him again if she could free herself.

He sucked her clit into his mouth and hummed against it violently as his fingers slid knuckle deep into her ass again, her startled breath came out strangled as she almost reached the crest of her orgasm, praying for it to crash over her only to be denied it as his mouth retreated and he left her agonisingly close.

"Please," she panted, staring blindly back at him, "I need..."

"And what of my needs?" he growled, his fingers sliding out of her as his hand swatted hard against her ass as the bed dipped and he moved once more out of reach. "I have been nothing more than your little fuck toy for months. Yours to summon and play with and toss away at will, to come eagerly scampering back like a dog to heel." There was a real bite and bitterness now to his tone that made her flinch almost instinctively as she lowered further onto her knees, sinking into a more comfortable position on the bed but not quite daring to move out of the position he'd placed her in just yet. Trying to judge where this little push-pull game of theirs began and where his real anger with her lay. Being as he hadn't chosen to mention that his decision to alter every atom of her being had resulted in her life being saved from certain death on at least two occasions, she chose not to remind him of her reasons for being such a stone cold bitch either, deciding that it would have come across merely childish.

"'And yet you came. You're the all powerful Time Lord, surely if I bought you to heel its only because you let me." She threw back at him, waiting for a response, she'd already apologised she'd be damned if she'd do it twice, besides she wasn't certain that was what he wanted, or if this was all just a part of her 'punishment'.

Her sass earned her a somewhat harder swipe across her ass, but he didn't reply and she suspected that maybe they had come to some unspoken agreement not to discuss again the time spent in Victorian London.

His hand brushed her face the sudden soft touch surprising as he cupped her chin lifting it lightly until she imagined she would have been looking directly at him. Clara felt her chest constrict painfully with almost tears from the sudden gentleness, she'd longed for this ridiculous man for months and now she had him they seemed incapable of simply letting their walls fall, of existing together without these games. More than anything she just wanted to see him, hold him.

"I don't want to fuck you." She whispered and his hand stilled, she could feel the hesitancy to his touch now. "I don't want to be fucked by you." She expanded and his hand fell away, Clara used the opportunity to lean her head forward towards her bound hands and pull off the blindfold, blinking in the dim light as she stared up at his still form hovering inches from the bed his eyes swirling blue maelstroms in a face set so severe she longed to smooth away the frown lines. "No more games today." She told him gently, lifting her bound hands towards him. His frown deepened and his hands went around her wrists, but he didn't undo the binding, his sharp blue eyes found hers, the question boring into her. "I want to make love to my husband." She pleaded quietly.

He was silent, which was disturbing enough in itself, before he roughly tugged her bound hands towards his chest, holding them firmly over his hearts. He swooped down and captured her mouth firmly, his kiss searing her as he swept his tongue inside, leaving her breathless as he pulled back, his nose still brushing hers. "Your husband is a near broken old fool."

Clara felt the pang of his self doubt and depreciation as clearly as if it were her own and her anger flared at herself and at him; that he would ever let himself think that way. "You are the Doctor." She informed him with quiet intensity. "You are the hero of fairytales and the thing the monsters fear."

He kissed her again, pulling her body until she was flush against him and her bonds strained at her wrists. "And what am I to you... am I a fairytale hero, or a monster?"

Clara pressed her bound hands to his chest palm down, listening to the steady thud that would forever match the one in her mind. "A little of both." She replied, looking up at him and seeing his dissatisfaction with the answer, "We all grow out of fairytales Doctor."

He grasped her wrists and slowly began to undo the silken bonds, not taking his eyes from her face. "I want the fairytale for you." He admitted as her hands came free and he massaged the slightly tender skin gently, dropping his head to press a kiss to the pulse point on each.

"I married you; that's close enough." His gaze bored into her and she knelt up, pressing her lips softly to his. "Make love to me." She asked him, her now freed hands sliding up the back of his head and bringing him down to her mouth again. "I just want you." She promised him, easing herself back onto the bed and taking him with her. His hands slid to her waist and thighs as she raised them around his narrow hips, parting herself for him and feeling the still hard heat of him brush her.

"I always want you." He murmured his lips against hers as he slid into her with practiced ease and she gasped at the sensation of it that never failed to have her shutting her eyes and drawing in a surprised breath. He lifted himself up on his elbows and buried a hand in her hair, rocking his hips forwards and pushing his pelvis deep against hers in a rocking motion, not needing to pull out as he found just the right pressure, keeping every inch of his body moulded to hers.

"Oh Gods." She managed, her hands wrapped around him, clutching at his back as she arched beneath him, his lips finding hers again and stealing her breath until everything started to bleed into one mass of sensation. He kept his mouth and body fused to hers as he pulled her up onto his lap, pulling her flush against him as he slid deeper, his hands at her ass as he rocked her into him. His mouth dropped to her neck as he gasped as breathless as she was. "Look at me." She pleaded grasping his face in her hands and finding his eyes. They locked with hers and she crushed her lips to his again, pulling away to share his breath. His eyes were a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings she couldn't hope to chase, but all she needed to see was the devotion there for her.

"I want to marry you." She rasped as his every thrust brought her closer to an orgasm she refused to let wash over her until he was as close as she was.

"I think we already did that dance." He replied, his left hand finding hers and wrapping their fingers together and clinking the rings that proved his point as he drove that little bit harder and deeper as she arched into him, unable to keep her eyes on his like this.

"Again... I want to marry you again." She clarified, reaching up to stroke his face and his mad expressive eyebrows. "This face." She opened her eyes onto his in time to see them shut as he strained against his own reaction to both her words and the way their bodies were rocking together in harmony.

"Yes." He gasped out his answer to her somewhat inappropriate proposal, his voice straining as his grip on her waist grew tighter and she felt the tremor run through him, the sensation as it entered her mind was enough to tip her over the edge and she came hard rocking desperately against him as he clutched at her, giving into his own orgasm as he shuddered in his release, holding her as close as he could so that she could feel every trip of his hearts thudding against her chest.

He fell asleep wrapped around her with his head on her chest shortly after, and Clara let her fingers rise to brush through his hair, enjoying the gentle warmth of his breath over her cooling skin. He was obviously more drained from his little 'purge' than he pretended, but her body whilst exhausted was too caught up in the tumult of emotions she'd put it through for sleep, so she merely held him, relishing the feel and smell of him around her again and knowing it wouldn't have to end in the morning. Clara dozed and in her half conscious state she felt the tension rise in his body, felt the prick of terror across their linked minds and the dip into a nightmare that wasn't her own but might as well have been.

She sat up, staring wildly about the room, the Doctor was nowhere to be seen the bed cold without him, but the hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she stared blindly about the near darkness. Something was there, watching... she blinked and threw her legs over the side of the bed, pausing, anticipation and nameless fear rising in the pit of her stomach. Cool fingers wrapped around her ankle...