Master/Master... assuming Crispy doesn't look like the icon.dr_y_a_n_aJuly 14 2007, 21:18:26 UTC
One had asked the other for a drink. A drink to old times, to new times. To new and old lives. They talked of the past. He talked of the future. They cursed the Doctor untold times. Of what they would have, should have done.
Drink followed drink and the Older Master talked about Lucy.
"What is she like?" the younger one asked.
"I like feeling her, like this." And he pushed against the other, cradling his head and nuzzling his neck. Drunk out of his mind, the older's hands began to slide across the other's body. Who didn't protest at all.
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Drink followed drink and the Older Master talked about Lucy.
"What is she like?" the younger one asked.
"I like feeling her, like this." And he pushed against the other, cradling his head and nuzzling his neck. Drunk out of his mind, the older's hands began to slide across the other's body. Who didn't protest at all.
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"See now, that wasn't so bad."
He got a grunt in return.
"It was better than the drumming, wasn't it?"
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To others he had fucked, he had shagged, screwed, teased, tortured, played with. But to her, he made love.
He loved her neck, her breasts, her thighs, her hair, her nose, her every little bit.
To her, and to her only he was gentle, the man he could have been without the drums.
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"Why yes, I am."
That had not been the expected answer. But this Doctor was different than his Doctor.
They met at a cafe in Paris. They dined on the finest wines and food. They took a long walk in a park. And then they ended up in a bush... somewhere.
When it was over, they swore never again.
It was a lie.
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