Work Text:
Clara Oswald was tinkering with the console unit when Ashildr entered the room, brandishing a large folder.
"You really got around the place, didn't you?" she remarked, opening the folder to reveal dozens upon dozens of photos of Clara throughout time. Clara peered over Ashildr's shoulder as she went through the lot - there was one of her in Victorian dress, another in uniform as a World War 2 radio operator, even a distinctly 1980s Clara with big hair and bell-bottom pants. Many, many more were of fancy, far-future spacesuits, on alien planets and Earth satellites.
"I don't think all of those are me," said Clara offhandedly.
"What do you mean 'not all of them' are you? That's you, isn't it?". Ashildr shot Clara a look of confusion.
"Where did you find this, anyway?" Clara asked the immortal. She flipped through the folder herself, noticing more and more lives she did not live; her personal favourite had to be the painting of her in a toga.
"In the TARDIS library," said Ashildr. "I suppose she put it there herself. Anyway, explain: how can not all of those be you?"
"I thought you'd have come across lots of my echoes," replied Clara. "I'm impressed you avoided them."
"Echoes?"
"It's a long story. Basically, one time I saved the Doctor but it meant splitting myself across his entire timestream. I've been born millions of times over, in different eras and even on different planets." She paused briefly to collect her words. "I don't remember living those lives, though. As far as I'm concerned they're entirely different people who just look a lot like me."
Ashildr had a moment of realization. "Ohhhh," she groaned. "That explains it then."
"Explains what?"
"I only met one properly, but I was aware of several others," she said. "I just thought you...hadn't met me yet. From your perspective. At least, that's what I thought the first time."
"The first time?" Clara raised an eyebrow.
Ashildr smirked. "Oh yeah. It was...lemme see...1585? You - well, your echo - was working as a barmaid. I visited one night and assumed it must be you undercover and..."
The immortal trailed off. Clara stared at her expectantly.
"Well? And what?"
Ashildr said, somewhat sheepishly. "We ended up shagging. But I thought it was...actually you, y'know."
"Oh my god," Clara laughed. "You're saying you've shagged me and I didn't know?"
"Like I said, I just thought you were undercover!" said Ashildr hurriedly. Clara could not keep her laughter to herself.
"I don't mind, honest," said Clara, trying to stifle her giggles. "Actually, if I'm being honest...I actually find it kind of hot."
Ashildr blushed. "I still like re-reading my diary entry for that night. You...well, your echo...left an, er...impression."
"I bet I did," smiled Clara, her tone becoming flirtatious. "If my own experiences with myself are anything to go by."
"Wait, do you mean you..." Ashildr stared open-mouthed at Clara, who had a large smirk etched across her face.
"Of course," replied Clara. "Time travel plus egomania, I suppose. But it's always, always worth it."
The images flashing through Ashildr's mind scarcely beared repeating. She gulped, feeling very warm all of a sudden.
Clara closed the gap between them. "I think you've been missing out for quite a couple centuries now, Ashildr." With that, she enveloped the immortal's lips in a kiss, and Ashildr gleefully returned the favour. When they parted for air, the viking girl gasped out. "Wow, that was..." She stopped, unable to find the right word to describe such an incredible kiss.
"I know," said Clara. "And there's more where that came from..."
She grasped Ashildr's hand and led her through the TARDIS corridors to the bedroom. There appeared to be only one, which had all of Clara and Ashildr's things in it now. The old girl seemed to know what was up.
Clara and Ashildr were too occupied with each other to properly notice. Hands went to clasps and buttons, their clothes becoming looser until they slid off altogether. They divested themselves of their bras and underwear, taking but a moment to drink in the sight of the other one's body. And then they were back at it, kissing and touching and sighing and moaning, as if it were the only thing in the world they were capable of doing.
Clara whispered into Ashildr's ear: "You know, the best part about this is that I've technically already fucked Me."
Ashildr groaned at the bad pun, which turned immediately into a high-pitched moan as Clara played with her nipple, her mouth trailing lower and lower until... "Fuck", Ashildr whined, "Don't stop!", continuing her mantra as Clara's tongue brought her closer to the edge.
She finally came, clutching at the sheets as Clara drew every last ounce of pleasure from Ashildr, crying Clara's name like it was prayer. Now Ashildr knew why Clara was so cocky; if she'd experienced what her own tongue could do, it would be enough to make anyone a raging narcissist.
"Holy fuck, Clara," panted the immortal. Clara drew herself up to snuggle Ashildr gently, resting her head on her shoulder. "I guess you enjoyed that, huh?"
"Enjoyed?" Ashildr sounded astonished. "Clara, I've lived for billions of years. Sure, I don't remember all of it, but I'm pretty sure nobody's ever eaten me out that good."
"You're just saying that to flatter me," teased Clara.
"Well, okay - maybe a little. But I just had an incredible orgasm thanks to you, cut me some slack if I exaggerate a little." The two women devolved into childish giggles.
"Personally I want to see what you can do," said Clara after some time. "Billions of years of experience surely translates to something special."
"Oh, you want to know what I'm capable of, do you?" Ashildr said teasingly. "If you think you're good Clara, you ain't seen nothing yet."
Getting up, she straddled Clara's waist and leaned down to kiss along her neck. Clara shivered at the touch of her lips. "That's it," cooed Ashildr, "Just lie back and be a good girl, Clara..."
"Ashildr..." came the replying moan.
Ashildr was rubbing Clara's hardened nipples, flicking them gently between her fingers. "What do you want, Clara?" she purred into her ear.
"Please..." gasped Clara.
"Please what?"
"Please just...oh, just fuck me, Ashildr!"
Ashildr smirked into Clara's neck. "Just what I wanted to hear," she said. "I always like to make them beg..."
Over the next ten minutes Ashildr brought Clara to several orgasms, most of them with her tongue. Her final one came as Ashildr displayed amazing skills with her fingers, while she leaned into Clara's ear and whispered "You're such a slut for me, aren't you Clara?" Those words, and those fingers, brought Clara over the edge, waves of pleasure crashing down on her like a waterfall.
By then she was utterly spent, and nearly blacked out from Ashildr's work. She managed an exhausted laugh, looking into her lover's eyes as they both realized how they looked, covered in sweat with messy, scattered hair.
"Well, you certainly lived up to expectations," was the next thing Clara said, hours later, as they cuddled in bed.
"So did you," replied Ashildr. She paused in thought, before stumbling over her next words. "What does this mean, do you think? For us I mean. Are we, um, dating? Or..."
Clara gave a small laugh. "I think you're wonderful, Ashildr. I'd be honoured to become your girlfriend."
Ashildr smiled weakly. "I want to be yours, too. It's been...well, centuries, but..." She trailed off. Clara kissed her hard. It was a deep, romantic kiss, nothing like the one they shared in the console room.
When they broke apart, Clara said: "I've been scared too, but I think I'm ready." Then she added, smirking: "And the sex should be fantastic, too."
Ashildr giggled. "Oh, for sure. I think I have a few ideas on how we can make it even better, too."
Clara raised an eyebrow. "Really, like what?"
Ashildr bit her lip.
****
And that was how they found themselves in a room with half a dozen different Claras, most of them from the photographs they found earlier. From her position Ashildr could see a Victorian Clara moaning with abandon as a Clara from Ancient Greece, half wearing her toga, ate her out; beside her, a Clara from the future, apparently an accomplished space pilot, had the radio operator Clara stripped and lying on her uniform, taking a dildo from behind. The original Clara was very much enjoying the tongue of her 1980s counterpart, her hands entwined tightly in her massive hairstyle.
Ashildr, meanwhile, had the barmaid Clara from 1585 sitting happily between her legs. Apparently they had picked her up in the TARDIS only a day after Ashildr's one-night stand with her all those centuries ago. The immortal's memories of that encounter somehow flooded back to her as she once again got to experience that particular Clara's tongue.
Ashildr and the original Clara shared a look as their respective echoes did their duty. The two smiled at each other, emitting identical moans of pleasure.
If this was what officially dating Clara would be like, Ashildr figured she could get used to it pretty quickly.