It's kinda like fic
I wrote Ten/Master. It's only 667 words.
It's also the closest to actual sex I've ever written. And once seeing how bad even the "almost" is you'll understand why I don't write anything...more.
Ehm, spoilers for late S3 (as if you all don't already know, flist). Unbetaed, slightly proofread.
- - - -
"I always knew you'd be a Tory. Like the name by the way. Much more subtle then your usual aliases. 'Magister'," The Doctor scoffed, "I mean really. It's like you weren't even trying!"
The Master smiled. It was all teeth, sly, but charming all at once. "My dear Doctor." The familiar endearment caused a shiver up the Doctor's spine. "If any of us were going to survive the War, I knew it'd be you. You're far too self-important. You just couldn't believe the universe would continue on if you were to die, that it needs you too much. "
"Of course you just did a runner once it started becoming obvious which side was going to lose."
The Master stood and came around from behind the Prime Minister's desk. "And aren't you glad I did?" He reached a hand up and touched the Doctor's face. He should have quipped about their now remarked difference in height, but the touch made such frivolous banter evaporate from his mind. "I can just imagine, my over-feeling Doctor, thinking himself all alone in the cosmos. Never knowing how dear to him the planet and its people he ran away from was until he lost it all."
The Doctor closed his eyes and leaned into the Master's hand still lingering on his cheek. To humans, Time Lords felt cold to the touch, but the warmth the Master's hand spread across the Doctor's skin. The emptiness, the heartbreak of thinking himself to be the last of his kind melted away.
He opened his eyes and looked at the Master. Even his eyes were wet with unshed tears. The Doctor wanted them to be real, knowing that they weren't. It was all part of the Master's manipulation, his hypnotism, his mesmerism. Before he knew it, their faces were millimeters apart. The Doctor inhaled. Beneath the designer aftershave he could smell fresh plants and dewy flowers of the Citadel's gardens, chemicals of the University labs, and fresh spring water of melted mountain snow. This too he knew couldn't be real, but still it was the fragrance of "Home," the Doctor breathed.
"We're all that's left," The Master whispered, his hand sliding up the Doctor's neck to bury itself in thick dark hair. "We'll have to be each other's home."
The last small distance was crossed. The Doctor found himself falling prey to the same weakness hundreds of years old. The lips were different, always different, but the kiss was the same. Even now the Master had to assert his dominance. He bit the Doctor's lower lip and tugged none too gently. The Doctor's gasp of pain opened his mouth to the Master's tongue. The Doctor moaned and tried to give some his own back, but the hand in his hair tugged hard. You will obey me...
No, the Doctor had to fight back. It's how it worked, their game. He struggled for breath around the demanding lips, teeth, and tongue. He grabbed the Master's hips and shoved him against, then up on to the desk top. The Master was distracted enough trying to adjust to the new position, that the Doctor finally managed to break the kiss off. He took his opportunity and shoved at the Master's chest, causing him to fall flat on his back, laying over important papers of state, his legs dangling off the desk's edge. The Doctor was now on all fours above him, breathing hard, eyes wild.
The Master chuckled, his eyes slit with arousal and merriment. "That's my Doctor."
"I am not yours," the Doctor growled, clawing at the knot in the Master's tie.
The Master laughed again. Insufferable, egotistic, sexy as hell laugh. "You are." He pulled the Doctor's shirt out from his trousers and slid his hands underneath.
The Doctor knew how to stop the laughter. He ripped open the other man's shirt, exposing bare flesh. The Doctor brought his mouth to the smooth chest and bit hard. The Master flung his head back and gasped, "You always will be."
Okay. bye now.
It's also the closest to actual sex I've ever written. And once seeing how bad even the "almost" is you'll understand why I don't write anything...more.
Ehm, spoilers for late S3 (as if you all don't already know, flist). Unbetaed, slightly proofread.
- - - -
"I always knew you'd be a Tory. Like the name by the way. Much more subtle then your usual aliases. 'Magister'," The Doctor scoffed, "I mean really. It's like you weren't even trying!"
The Master smiled. It was all teeth, sly, but charming all at once. "My dear Doctor." The familiar endearment caused a shiver up the Doctor's spine. "If any of us were going to survive the War, I knew it'd be you. You're far too self-important. You just couldn't believe the universe would continue on if you were to die, that it needs you too much. "
"Of course you just did a runner once it started becoming obvious which side was going to lose."
The Master stood and came around from behind the Prime Minister's desk. "And aren't you glad I did?" He reached a hand up and touched the Doctor's face. He should have quipped about their now remarked difference in height, but the touch made such frivolous banter evaporate from his mind. "I can just imagine, my over-feeling Doctor, thinking himself all alone in the cosmos. Never knowing how dear to him the planet and its people he ran away from was until he lost it all."
The Doctor closed his eyes and leaned into the Master's hand still lingering on his cheek. To humans, Time Lords felt cold to the touch, but the warmth the Master's hand spread across the Doctor's skin. The emptiness, the heartbreak of thinking himself to be the last of his kind melted away.
He opened his eyes and looked at the Master. Even his eyes were wet with unshed tears. The Doctor wanted them to be real, knowing that they weren't. It was all part of the Master's manipulation, his hypnotism, his mesmerism. Before he knew it, their faces were millimeters apart. The Doctor inhaled. Beneath the designer aftershave he could smell fresh plants and dewy flowers of the Citadel's gardens, chemicals of the University labs, and fresh spring water of melted mountain snow. This too he knew couldn't be real, but still it was the fragrance of "Home," the Doctor breathed.
"We're all that's left," The Master whispered, his hand sliding up the Doctor's neck to bury itself in thick dark hair. "We'll have to be each other's home."
The last small distance was crossed. The Doctor found himself falling prey to the same weakness hundreds of years old. The lips were different, always different, but the kiss was the same. Even now the Master had to assert his dominance. He bit the Doctor's lower lip and tugged none too gently. The Doctor's gasp of pain opened his mouth to the Master's tongue. The Doctor moaned and tried to give some his own back, but the hand in his hair tugged hard. You will obey me...
No, the Doctor had to fight back. It's how it worked, their game. He struggled for breath around the demanding lips, teeth, and tongue. He grabbed the Master's hips and shoved him against, then up on to the desk top. The Master was distracted enough trying to adjust to the new position, that the Doctor finally managed to break the kiss off. He took his opportunity and shoved at the Master's chest, causing him to fall flat on his back, laying over important papers of state, his legs dangling off the desk's edge. The Doctor was now on all fours above him, breathing hard, eyes wild.
The Master chuckled, his eyes slit with arousal and merriment. "That's my Doctor."
"I am not yours," the Doctor growled, clawing at the knot in the Master's tie.
The Master laughed again. Insufferable, egotistic, sexy as hell laugh. "You are." He pulled the Doctor's shirt out from his trousers and slid his hands underneath.
The Doctor knew how to stop the laughter. He ripped open the other man's shirt, exposing bare flesh. The Doctor brought his mouth to the smooth chest and bit hard. The Master flung his head back and gasped, "You always will be."
Okay. bye now.