Whouffaldi Week 2k16

Day 1: This is not what it looks like oh who am I kidding...

A/N: I have never written anything tailored to a prompt before so I am a bit off but... Hey, it's for Whouffladi! 

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Day One – 'not what it looks like' orange peels and bed covers.

This is not what it looks like, oh, who am I kidding...

As they ran through the streets covered in a slimly substance, Clara could only think one thing-

"How did this happen, Doctor? I thought you said they liked visitors." Clara yelled while trying to dodge a stack of boxes next to a corner shop.

"I never said they liked visitors, Clara, merely that they tolerate guests with great care." As the Doctor was replying, his foot caught on a village cart and he fell forward, sprawling out on the street. He felt the stones dig into his face and hid wet clothes absorbed the dirt and debris from the ground.

Clara heard the commotion and turned, greeted with the sight of havoc that lay behind her. The Doctor's fall had triggered a series of catastrophes to the nearby stalls. Tables were collapsing, goods were flying everywhere and people were yelling, all while the Doctor laid on the city pavement. Clara couldn't help herself when she started to laugh. The Doctor scowled at her and attempted to rise off the ground but his hand flew to his back and he gasped out in pain.

Clara could feel the color drain from her face as she rushed to his side.

"Are you okay, Doctor?" She waited for a sarcastic comment but all she saw was his agony stricken face. Clara could hear the sound of running feet hastily approaching. She helped him up and they continued on, hobbling more than running, through the city and over a small hill to where the TARDIS was. It sat under a giant oak tree, both doors opening as the shipped sensed her pilot's distress. Clara thanked the old girl quietly and dragged the weary man to his bedroom.

"Thank you, Clara," The Doctor said as she gently leaned him against the wall next to his door, "but might I inquire why you stood me by my door?"

"You need to get out of those sodden clothes." Clara replied simply while buzzing around the room, trying to search for the very articles in question. "Doctor," she huffed, "where are all your clothes." She pinned him with a glare and noticed how he seemed to want to be absorbed into the wall behind him.

"Um, well," He replied shyly, "they are in the wash."

Clara sighed and brought her hand up to rub the spot between her eyebrows, she could only take so much of this man... oh, who was she kidding? "Come on you daft old man." Clara walked at him with a determined look upon her face.

What happened after that, the Doctor wishes not to recall, but it involved the removal of most of his and Clara's clothing and her viciously ripping the covers off of his bed.

Clara and the Doctor sat next to the fire, wrapped in his bed covers, eating various foods the TARDIS had materialized for them. Clara leaned against the Doctor, letting his warmth settle around her. Her senses were filled with his musky smell and she couldn't help but snuggle deeper into it. As she closed her eyes, a whiff of citrus invaded her nose. Clara watched as the Doctor finished his snack, threw the peels into the fire and licked his lips to catch the escaped juices.

"Doctor..." A small trail of juice had evaded his lips and was now perched under the corner of his mouth. He looked at Clara, a question posed on his lips but his answer was silenced by the heat he saw in her eyes.

"Clara." She shivered as her name rolled off of his tongue. His deep, melodic tone rumbled and resonated throughout her body. She slowly arose and sat on his lap, allowing her to match his height. Her eye's drifted to the droplet that still sat near this mouth.

Noticing where Clara's eye's had gone, the Doctor know knew of the juice above his chin. He felt a churning in his stomach as her body heat melted with his own. His thoughts were consumed with the idea of Clara removing that drop, whether it be with her finger or her mouth, but he preferred the latter.

Clara leaned in and softly and let her lips caress the spot below his mouth. She slightly opening her lips and allowed her tongue to dart out and remove the citrus nectar. The Doctor felt the fire within him swell and he moved his head so their mouths could mold.