"We're here," he smiled at her. That smile grew even wider as he watched the smile in her eyes spread to her lips. She was beautiful, right down to those adorable dimples of hers. And tonight he planned to tell her.

"Where's here?" she smirked. "I've seen that look on your face before and it's had me running for my life soon as I've stepped out that door, Chin Boy."

"Trust me." He stepped toward her, taking her small hand in his own and leading her to the door. The Doctor took one last look at Clara, who was watching him skeptically, an eyebrow quirked dubiously. Her suspicion didn't bother him a bit. In just a moment it'd be gone.

Clara gasped, eyes widening in surprise and awe as she followed him out of the TARDIS. He may not always know what he was doing, but something told her she wouldn't be running for her life this time. She trusted him.

A field of tall blue grass sprawled before her, swaying gently in the warm breeze. She could smell the sea, hear the faintest crashing of waves in the distance. Above them shone thousands of stars, more brightly than Clara had ever seen. She could even pick out the swirly shapes of galaxies among them.

"Oh my stars," she sighed in quiet reverence. "Where are we?"

"Gonimótita, in the Inkterif galaxy. Somewhere around 42 billion lightyears from Earth." A smug smile tugged at the corners of the Doctor's lips as he watched her take it all in. He stroked her hand with his thumb. "Do you like it?" Despite the look of wonder on her face, he couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of doubt creep into the pit of his stomach. He'd shown her such beautiful things before, but danger had ruined it each and every time.

"It's beautiful," she sighed, lifting her eyes to the sky. "Amazing, Doctor."

He stuffed his free hand in his pocket and smiled down at his shoes. Her reaction to the scenery wasn't the only thing that worried him. He'd brought her here for a reason.

"It's so quiet," she looked at him with concern. "We are safe here, aren't we?"

"Of course we are! This planet's been abandoned for centuries. We're all on our own. This is all ours tonight."

"Why would anyone ever leave a place like this?"

He shrugged. He knew exactly what happened; there'd been a war. An entire race slaughtered, the planet gutted of its most precious resources - crystals that brought immortality to the owner among them, along with its few surviving citizens that would fetch quite a fortune once they'd been sold into slavery. But he refused to spoil their night with such a grim story; that was a million lifetimes ago. Tonight there was only the two of them, and he wondered if the look on her face had been worth the tragedy. The landscape had recovered; all was finally well. Nearly a thousand years of solitude had allowed the scorched wasteland that had been left behind to repair itself - leaves glowed on the trees that once again towered in the planet's vast forests and in a few hours, as the suns rose, thousands of flowers would bloom in the very field before them, glistening like diamonds in the light. It was an incredible sight to behold, but the Doctor was certain that there wasn't a thing in the universe more beautiful than the woman standing beside him.

He watched her for a moment, just taking in the sight of her, the child-like wonder in her eyes. That was always his favourite thing about travelling with humans; he'd lost that same sense of awe somewhere along the way. The way her eyes glittered with the reflection of the stars rekindled that feeling deep in his hearts. He'd never seen anything so lovely. When she turned to look at him, her face positively glowing with her smile, he intertwined his fingers with hers and nudged her toward the grass, closer to the sea.

Clara followed him, no longer hesitant, grinning like a child. The Doctor walked just a few steps ahead of her, their fingers intertwined. There wasn't a single person she'd rather share this with.

She sighed reverently when she finally laid eyes on the ocean, a light shade of violet, mirroring the sky, right down to the twin crimson moons above them. They stood on a ridge, waves crashing against a snow white shore before them. It took Clara's breath away.

And she took his.

The Doctor shrugged out of his jacket. He spread it before them like a blanket and gestured for her to sit down next to him. They stayed that way for a moment, just watching the waves kiss the shore. The Doctor was so nervous he was shocked that she couldn't hear the sound of his hearts; they beat so quickly he thought for a moment that they'd fall out of his chest. There was no turning back, he reminded himself. Now or never.

Clara was just the slightest bit taken aback when the Doctor pulled her into his arms, but she was more shocked at how little she minded - the sudden rush of butterflies in her stomach betrayed a feeling she'd long tried to deny. She'd always considered the Doctor something of an impossibility; he was at once so close to her, yet so terribly far away. She wasn't sure she'd ever understand him. It was moments like this, though, his unpredictable nature, that made her love him all the more.

She was certain her heart nearly stopped when he ran his long, calloused fingers along her cheekbone, cupping her cheek as he'd done so many times before, locking his green eyes on hers. It was her favourite feelings in all the world; she'd never felt safer than she did right there, cradled in his strong, slender arms.

A soft, shy smile played at his lips and Clara couldn't stop herself from glancing away nervously. There'd been moments like this before, when her heart would skip and flutter and she'd bite her lip hopefully, but he always seemed to suddenly become aware of himself and turn away in frustration. Her heart ached for him, but she'd never be able to tell him so.

She'd never loved anyone before. It was a curious feeling, and it scared her, but she had never been so sure of anything in her entire life. She knew she was far from the first - he was such an incredible, impossible, handsome creature, and she had tried for so long to convince herself that it was all that he'd shown her that she'd really fallen in love with. In a way, that was true; he kept so many secrets, but as his guard began to fall, as he began to open up to her, so slowly but surely, awakened in her feelings she hadn't even known she'd had. He had known so much pain, centuries worth of it. Such terrible loneliness, so much loss; she longed to take it all away, to show him the same love and safety he'd unwittingly shown her.

"Clara," he began softly, doing his best to keep his voice from shaking. Three words. Three little words, that's all. How difficult could it really be?

And suddenly he was stammering and wringing his hands - trust him to make a proper mess of a perfect moment.

Clara watched him for a moment, grinning coyly and watching her beautiful idiot turn a shade of red deeper than she'd ever seen. She sucked at her lip; it was kind of hot, she had to admit, that beautiful idiot.

His mind and stomach turned as he fumbled for the words, those three simple bloody words that cruelly eluded him and left him vulnerable as an infant. His hearts pounded against his ribs, nearly knocking the breath from his lungs. Do something! his mind shouted. He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to pull himself together. Now or never.

He pressed his lips to hers and hoped that they'd speak for him. His hands had wandered slowly up her sides to cup her cheeks and he thanked whatever gods there were that his body had always had a mind of its own.

What he hadn't expected was for her to sigh softly - the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard, he was certain - and kiss him back with a gentle certainty that made his hearts soar. Without a word they'd made a promise, and they'd finally let down their walls. Without a word, she was his.

She broke the kiss and smirked at him.

"Been waiting for that," she chided, making him blush all over again. "You're sexy when you're nervous."

He coughed, grinning sheepishly, and straightened his bow tie. Me? Sexy? No, what was sexy was the way the wind was playing with her hair. Sexy was the little flecks of copper, like stars in her brown eyes. Again, he kissed her, pulling her into him. He didn't quite trust himself with words yet.

Her lips met his in earnest, her fingers tangling themselves in his messy brown hair. She teased her tongue over his lips and he let the kiss deepen, his hands beginning to wander over her curves.

"Clara Oswald," he said finally, trailing kisses down her throat. "You are beautiful, and I'm in love with you."

"Been waiting for that too," she murmured, playfully nipping at his lower lip.

"Oh? Anything else you've been waiting for?"

She hummed. "Well, you're certainly on the right track."

The Doctor nearly faltered at the realisation - of course he'd wanted her, dreamt of being with her, but he'd never actually expected it to become a reality. And, if he was honest, he'd become quite shy. It had been centuries since he had done this, and he wasn't as young as he once was. He could just see it - he'd rip her dress or say something awkward or - god forbid - finish early. And now that he thought about it, he wasn't too certain of how these things worked for humans; after all, nothing else they did made sense.

Anxiety was beginning to well up in him again, and Clara could tell by the trembling of his hands. She sucked gently at his bottom lip, guiding one large hand up over her breast. The man had saved entire galaxies from some of the most horrifying forces in all of time and space, and yet a bossy little earthling could turn him to putty with one kiss.

Clara kept her hand over his for a moment, pulling away to look him in the eye. He regarded her almost in disbelief, looking at his hand on her breast and back up to her face. The tender look in her eyes was all it took. He gathered her in his arms and kissed her long and deep, dipping her gently so that she laid in the grass beneath him.

"That's more like it," she murmured as he straddled her, her fingers already beginning to undo the buttons of his waistcoat.

He trailed his fingers up her thigh and felt her shiver beneath him when they started to travel up past the hem of her skirt. He revelled in the softness of her skin and the taste of her lips as she made quick work of removing his bow tie and started on the buttons of his shirt. Lifting her gently, he groped for the zip on the back of her dress. More than anything, he wanted to feel her skin on his.

She couldn't get his clothes off of him fast enough. His kisses made her head swim and those bloody buttons simply weren't cooperating with her fingers. And blimey, why did there have to be so many of them?

When his large clumsy hand finally caught the zip of her dress he pulled quickly, yet gently, taking extra care not to rip her dress. Clara lifted her hips and helped him pull her dress over her head. He tossed it carelessly off into the tall blue grass and returned his attention to the flawless creature beneath him.

"Lovely dress, but I think I rather prefer you without it," he smirked and dipped his head to trail kisses along her collarbone and down to her breasts, making her breath catch in her throat. For a man that spent most of his time running around like a child, he certainly knew what he was doing.

At last she'd managed to unbutton his shirt and he shrugged out of it, tossing it aside in one fluid motion. He had always looked so skinny that she had always marvelled at his strength, but now that she saw him free of his grandfatherly tweed jacket and bow tie she could see that he was made of lean, sinewy muscles. She felt safe there, in his arms.

With a flick of his wrist he unclasped her bra - a feat that made him smile smugly into her lips. He ran his hands over the soft swell of her breasts, kneading them gently in his calloused hands. A soft, appreciative moan flowed over Clara's lips and sent shivers down his spine. His body was beginning to run away from him again, but this time he let it go and let his desire take over. For whatever reason, his mouth had refused to form the words, but he could certainly show her.

Clara gasped when she felt the Doctor's hand slip below the lacy hem of her panties and into her folds. She was beginning to wonder what had happened to her blushing, flailing Chin Boy, but she could certainly get used to this. As if she hadn't been having enough trouble getting him out of his trousers already, she now had to fight to steady her hands as one spindly finger found its way inside her, the pad of his thumb drawing small circles around her clitoris while his mouth continued to explore her breasts. He would have been content to explore every inch of her if she'd let him, but it was obvious that she had other plans. Her heart was beating out of her chest and all she could think about was getting closer to him.

She nearly cried when she felt the button come undone in her hands and she hooked her thumbs in his waistband, pushing them roughly down his hips. He hadn't even noticed how uncomfortable they had become, the zip straining against his cock. He kicked both his trousers and pants away and gazed down at her.

"Oh, yes, much better. I quite like this. I think we're going to have to do away with clothes," he rambled. "Bad, bad clothes. No more of these on the TARDIS. That simply won't do."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Don't you think you'll have to take that up with the missus?" she asked, making a playful dig at his spaceship.

He rolled his eyes. One day the two of them would have to get used to one another, because if he was to have his way, Clara wouldn't be going anywhere. "My ship, my rules," he shrugged. "And my new rule says no clothes."

Clara gazed expectantly up at him. "It would appear that I'm in violation of your rule then, Chin Boy."

"Oh, you are, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to confiscate the offending article," he said, lifting her bum and giving it a soft squeeze before yanking her lace knickers down to her knees. "You wouldn't want me to have to punish you."

She chuckled sensually. "Hm, I'm not so sure about that..."

He smiled, taking a moment to drink in the sight of her. All banter aside, she was absolutely exquisite. Her creamy skin glowed in the moonlight and he'd never seen such perfect curves. She bit her lip, suddenly shy. It had been so long since a man had seen her, and she didn't think any of them had ever looked at her the way the Doctor was looking at her right now.

Clara took a deep breath as he settled between her legs, trying to soothe the butterflies in her stomach. He swept her hair behind her ear and kissed her tenderly, his lips charged with longing. She could feel him poised at her entrance, but there was an uncertainty in the way he held his hips.

"Please," she whispered.

"Need you," he sighed, resting his forehead against hers.

"I'm yours," she promised him. "Take me. Show me the stars."

With one last, slow kiss he slipped inside her, as gently and slowly as he could. He wanted this to be absolutely perfect; he wanted her the complete and utter adoration he had for her. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her.

She whimpered as he filled her, biting his shoulder lightly in an effort to stifle a moan. The Doctor let his head fall into the soft curve where her shoulder met her neck, his head absolutely spinning. He was overwhelmed by her - the sweet scent of her hair, her small hand pressed against his chest to feel his heartbeats, and the incredible, impossible sensation of her wrapped around him.

There had been other men, of course - a guy from uni, another she met in her favourite coffee shop, a one-night stand she wished she could take back. She'd had sex, she realised, but she had never made love until now.

"I love you," he whispered knowingly as he began to move, slowly, doing his best to keep his senses under control. This defied all logic, he couldn't help but think. He had foolishly thought that Clara's impossibilities ended at Trenzalore, but there was simply no explaining why her hand in his hair, legs wrapped round his waist felt so absolutely amazing. His nerves sang and danced with hers with each thrust, and he could feel himself slowly beginning to come undone.

Clara rocked her hips in time with his, his name bubbling over her lips over and over again as his thrusts intensified, deepened. There was nothing he could do, he feared as he felt her own sensations begin to tug at the corners of his mind. She was so small and fragile, so human. He could feel himself losing control, feel her pleasure spreading like a wave of electricity through his body.

He looked down at her in concern, guilt and worry already beginning to swell within him. The psychic link that was threatening to form between them could well destroy her. There was a reason he'd never been with a human.

There was a far-away look in her eyes and her lips trembled as she looked up at him, through him.

"Doctor," she breathed. "I can feel you. I - how? You're... you're in my head." Her brown eyes searched him for some explanation. It was such a strange feeling, and Clara knew she should probably be frightened, but she was beginning to wonder if there was any force in the universe that could frighten her when she was in his arms.

They continued to rock slowly into one another, but he regarded her carefully. "I'm not hurting you, am I? It's not too much?"

Her breath hitched sharply as he shifted his weight, changing his angle within her, and he didn't catch the slight shake of the head she gave him.

"We can stop if you want," he whispered apologetically, pushing her sweaty fringe out of her eyes. He loved her more than anything, and being with her in this way was more than he could have ever dreamed for, but he'd give it all back, get back in his snog-box and fly away before he ever let himself hurt her like that.

Clara, his beautiful, impossible Clara pressed her hand to his chest and spoke his name - his true name - almost inaudibly, and he felt the wall between them crumble. Stars exploded across his vision and his lips fell on hers over and over again, murmuring her name between each kiss. She wasn't just another fragile human being, he didn't have to hold treat her like glass, lest she shatter in his hands. Not fragile at all, not his Clara.

Searing white-hot tendrils of the Doctor's pleasure wrapped themselves around Clara's spine.

"You're perfect," he whispered raggedly, running a shaky hand down her side and back up to over her breast, shivering as her sensations swept through him.

Words were lost to her, her head was swimming, thoughts swirling entangled with his as her heart beat with the rhythm of their hips. Completely lost in the moment, lost in him, she could feel her grip on reality beginning to slip. There was a world somewhere beyond their little patch of grass by the sea, but she couldn't see anything but him.

The Doctor rolled his hips hard into her and in one fluid motion turned them over so that she was now silhouetted against the moonlight. He reached for her hips, trying to steady them but only one found its way, the other skirting up the curve of her spine and back down, gripping her arse rather roughly. In response she curled her hips and pressed down onto him, hard. The feeling nearly knocked the wind out of him but he drove on, chasing the ghost of her pleasure.

He flipped them back over and she clung to him, his name bubbling over her lips each time he pushed back into her. He could feel her teetering at the edge and hurried to join her.

He had promised her the stars, and she saw all of them and more when at last she felt her orgasm seize her, crashing over her in waves that sent the Doctor tumbling. Again and again he kissed her neck, softly, roughly, he couldn't tell anymore. All he cared about was letting her know that he'd never seen her as beautiful as she was right now, coming utterly undone beneath him. One hand knotted itself in her hair while the other gripped her hip for dear life. He buried his head in the crook of her neck and cried out as his hips jerked roughly and he spilled into her.

They lay still that way for a while, his long thin body draped protectively over hers, still inside her. Her chest rose and fell as the waves did against the shore, and he fell in love all over again with the warm, dreamy look in her eyes. It was her turn to be speechless.

The Doctor kissed her neck tenderly and smiled at her, devotion plain in his eyes. "Did you see them?" he asked softly.

She quirked an eyebrow, still half in a daze.

"The stars, Clara," he murmured into her hair, caressing her cheek. "Did you see them?"

She sighed softly, pressing a delicately charged kiss against his smiling lips. He didn't need her to tell him.

Rolling over onto his back, the Doctor became vaguely aware that it would be quite a task to find their clothes in the tall, dark grasses by moonlight. He smirked, gathering his Impossible Girl in his arms. Just as well, he thought. They were banned, anyway.