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Amy laughs, the sound more chuckle than giggle though not entirely either, and in a swift movement she shoves Clara's fingers further down her skirt, but not quite close enough to touch her. She twirls Clara around by the zipper in the back of the skirt, leaving her leaning into the railing at the console, balancing herself on her free arm.

"Not so fast, Miss Clara Oswald," Amy draws out the syllables again, confirming that something's coming - and while Clara rather hopes it's one or both of them, she's not sure Amy's in agreement with that being Clara's choice to make.

"Jus' because the Doctor might fancy you don't make you the boss 'round here, you know."

"He does not!" Clara refutes, the claim met with a tightening grasp on her skirt, its zipper scraping against her panties and hose.

"No, he doesn't. And I'm still the boss," Amy declares, with an authoritative urgency against which Clara feels little need to protest.

"I'm your boss," Amy adds, jerking Clara's skirt up around her slender waist. Her hand meanders back and pinches Clara's bum, and Clara can't help but arch her back in arousal.

"Good girl, Clara," Amy coos tauntingly, stroking up and down Clara's leg and then her wetness. She pulls Clara's hand from between her legs and moves it between Clara's, rubbing her clit.

Amy withdraws her hand, lands a hefty smack against one of Clara's cheeks, and Clara can only arch her back further and tease for more.