Kohl'd Comfort
Title: Kohl'd Comfort
Author: x_los
Rating: R
Pairing: Eight/Ainley!Master
Summary: "Mismatched D/M, drag or make-up" (a tidied old b_e kink meme fill) (original here: http://best-enemies.livejournal.com/13938.html?thread=237426#t237426)
Beta: aralias
***
“Hold still,” the Doctor said pleasantly, applying the tip of his tongue to the corner of the Master’s eye and flicking it back into his own mouth to gauge the taste. “Charcoal,” he pronounced, rocking back on his heels and restoring the distance between them. “And some plant oils. Not the kind with lead, then.”
“You might have asked,” the Master pointed out, breathing a little unevenly.
“I might. But I remember you in this body.” The Doctor grinned, shaking his head. The Master found himself slightly distracted by the way the Doctor’s auburn curls bounced with the motion. “You’d have lied about anything, even the composition of your kohl. You didn’t need a reason so much as an opportunity. I just assumed you liked waiting for me to catch you out.”
“And what’s prompted you to catch me out now? It’s hardly like you--or at least it never has been. Normally when you go looking for trouble, it’s in a rather different form. Perhaps the Gallifreyan government has finally secured your participation? If you settled for work in drug-testing, I’m going to be vastly disappointed in you, Doctor. And when did you regenerate?” The Master frowned.
He was more than a little disappointed already. Someone had managed to destroy the youthful, blond edition of his adversary--and it hadn’t been him. He wondered whether brutally killing the people who who had killed your enemy for you might be construed as contradictory, and then decided he didn’t actually care. He was going to do it regardless, so why pretend otherwise?
This new body wasn’t without promise, however. Excitable, with great soft eyes and an arresting smile. And against all precedent, the Doctor had now apparently become someone inclined to lick up the side of the Master’s face by way of greeting-the Master felt he could certainly make something of that.
“Just idle curiosity.” The Doctor stepped closer. His hands were busy, skating over the Master’s metallic embroidery and the pile of his suit where it rested on his shoulders, flicking over the line of the kohl around the Master’s eyes. The Master let him touch wherever he wanted, let the Doctor flit over him like a bee over a particularly interesting flower.
“I always wondered-was it eyeliner or kohl proper?” the Doctor laughed. “I should have known. Naturally you’d go with the real thing, you always were a terrible snob-I wondered rather a lot of things, Master. Where you’d picked it up, whether you’d let me lick it off your face, what else you’d let me do. Just because I didn’t act on those thoughts doesn’t mean I wasn’t curious. After all, it did--does--wonders for your eyes. As I suspect you know. Incidentally, I haven’t regenerated in your timeline. Not yet, anyway. I’ve just popped back. Do you mind if I kiss you?” Without waiting for the Master’s response, the Doctor’s arms were around his waist and the Doctor’s tongue was in his mouth, flicking over his teeth.
Suddenly the Doctor was a few inches away again. His fingers smudged the kohl at the corners of the Master’s eyes, like a child playing with finger paints. “Your canines were so much sharper when I was in my seventh body-I cut my tongue open on one of them by accident. Not that you minded. Oh, I remember now, you were wearing makeup then too! I hope when the time comes you’ll realize what an astoundingly unlikely fashion statement that is. But then you’re often an astoundingly unlikely sort of person.” The Doctor smiled fondly.
“Has something happened to me?” the Master asked quietly. He’d let the Doctor rattle on because he’d thought it might provide him with interesting information, because the Doctor seemed particularly difficult to stop in this regeneration, and because he didn’t at all object to the Doctor kissing him and was willing to sacrifice the good condition of his kohl for the cause. But the unpleasant undercurrents of this very pleasant meeting were too strong to ignore. “Strange as it is for you to seek me out, it’s stranger still for you to tread on your own time-stream--” The Doctor opened his mouth to contradict him, but the Master interrupted him. “And you know very well that our timelines are too interconnected for it to count as anything less than that, whatever you might like the case to be.” The Master had always made sure of that.
The Doctor tried to answer him with a distracting kiss. The Master threaded his hands through the Doctor’s hair and let himself be lost for an instant, but then roughly jerked the Doctor’s head back and looked the Doctor in the eye. “Don’t prevaricate,” he hissed, “just tell me. You’re throwing yourself at me in the middle of a field. I can hardly fail to notice how terribly unusual such behavior is for you. Am I dead at last then, Doctor?”
Some part of the Doctor must have wanted him to know. The Doctor was too clever to risk coming to meet him and far too clever to give any hint of his reasons away, if, underneath his cheer, he wasn’t too worried or distraught to be acting sensibly. The Doctor had always been overly vulnerable to the pull of his own personal feelings, and, what’s worse, had always known it. It was why he was often so guarded with them. Was this, then, a warning? a farewell? (the Master stiffened) an apology?
“No, no!” The Doctor gestured vaguely. “Well, yes. Somewhat. But only temporarily, I’m sure.” The Doctor grinned, and the Master was forced to notice that this time the Doctor had a hyper-luminescent, sun-bright smile. Just looking at it made the corners of the Master’s mouth slink up. The Doctor tapped the side of his nose lightly with an elegant, long finger.
“Now don’t worry about yourself. I’m not worried, honestly. It’s a run-of-the-mill catastrophe for you, and anyway, it’s not for centuries yet. If I seem a bit maudlin, it’s because we’ve had a particularly nasty,” he winced for some reason the Master didn’t understand, “falling out. No, Master, you always come back. But over the course of our… particularly nasty argument, you indirectly caused my death--again, I might add. And as you know, a new body comes with all those new, fresh wants. You might go so far as to say you owe me, though of course I’d never be so crass.”
“No,” the Master agreed with a slight smirk.
“No,” the Doctor amiably continued, pressing his case. “So, you’re not around at the moment in my timeline, I’m rattling along all by my lonesome, and I find I’ve missed you. You-you, with your coat and your gloves and your stupid immobile hair and your unrepentant smirk and your unashamedly indulgent taste in cosmetics. I thought maybe you might be interested in helping me deal with my reminiscing mood? If I’m imposing I can just pop back to San Francisco-”
“Oh no.” The Master slinked a velvet-clad arm back behind the Doctor’s velvet-clad back. “No, I don’t think any Mission District side-trips will be necessary, do you Doctor? Since you were polite enough to ask, I’d be more than-”
“Excellent!” The Doctor beamed, kissing him and coming back up. “That's perfect! No, really it is!” He looked around, seemingly delighted with the trees and the grass and the glories of nature or some other maudlin nonsense. The Master would rather the Doctor contemplated the glories of nature a little closer to home, perhaps by cupping the Master’s cock through the velvet fabric again, as he had when they’d kissed. Even as he was wryly contemplating the Doctor’s inability to fix his attention on any greater goal, the Doctor suddenly stopped walking. “What a lovely patch of violets. Master, why don’t we fuck right here? No need to find a tedious bed--not at the moment, anyway. Besides, I’m rather eager to start, aren’t you?” The Master entirely forgave the Doctor his briefly confused priorities. “It’s been ages since we had wooded glen sex,” the Doctor recalled with another effulgent smile. “Not since that time during the Luddite-mmph!”
He was rudely interrupted by the Master tackling him to the ground.
“You know for a bloke wearing makeup, you’re awfully forceful.” the Doctor said wryly.
“Oh, Doctor,” the Master chuckled as he straddled the Doctor and ground their erections together through the fabric, “I’m going to enjoy making you shut up.”
*
Author: x_los
Rating: R
Pairing: Eight/Ainley!Master
Summary: "Mismatched D/M, drag or make-up" (a tidied old b_e kink meme fill) (original here: http://best-enemies.livejournal.com/13938.html?thread=237426#t237426)
Beta: aralias
***
“Hold still,” the Doctor said pleasantly, applying the tip of his tongue to the corner of the Master’s eye and flicking it back into his own mouth to gauge the taste. “Charcoal,” he pronounced, rocking back on his heels and restoring the distance between them. “And some plant oils. Not the kind with lead, then.”
“You might have asked,” the Master pointed out, breathing a little unevenly.
“I might. But I remember you in this body.” The Doctor grinned, shaking his head. The Master found himself slightly distracted by the way the Doctor’s auburn curls bounced with the motion. “You’d have lied about anything, even the composition of your kohl. You didn’t need a reason so much as an opportunity. I just assumed you liked waiting for me to catch you out.”
“And what’s prompted you to catch me out now? It’s hardly like you--or at least it never has been. Normally when you go looking for trouble, it’s in a rather different form. Perhaps the Gallifreyan government has finally secured your participation? If you settled for work in drug-testing, I’m going to be vastly disappointed in you, Doctor. And when did you regenerate?” The Master frowned.
He was more than a little disappointed already. Someone had managed to destroy the youthful, blond edition of his adversary--and it hadn’t been him. He wondered whether brutally killing the people who who had killed your enemy for you might be construed as contradictory, and then decided he didn’t actually care. He was going to do it regardless, so why pretend otherwise?
This new body wasn’t without promise, however. Excitable, with great soft eyes and an arresting smile. And against all precedent, the Doctor had now apparently become someone inclined to lick up the side of the Master’s face by way of greeting-the Master felt he could certainly make something of that.
“Just idle curiosity.” The Doctor stepped closer. His hands were busy, skating over the Master’s metallic embroidery and the pile of his suit where it rested on his shoulders, flicking over the line of the kohl around the Master’s eyes. The Master let him touch wherever he wanted, let the Doctor flit over him like a bee over a particularly interesting flower.
“I always wondered-was it eyeliner or kohl proper?” the Doctor laughed. “I should have known. Naturally you’d go with the real thing, you always were a terrible snob-I wondered rather a lot of things, Master. Where you’d picked it up, whether you’d let me lick it off your face, what else you’d let me do. Just because I didn’t act on those thoughts doesn’t mean I wasn’t curious. After all, it did--does--wonders for your eyes. As I suspect you know. Incidentally, I haven’t regenerated in your timeline. Not yet, anyway. I’ve just popped back. Do you mind if I kiss you?” Without waiting for the Master’s response, the Doctor’s arms were around his waist and the Doctor’s tongue was in his mouth, flicking over his teeth.
Suddenly the Doctor was a few inches away again. His fingers smudged the kohl at the corners of the Master’s eyes, like a child playing with finger paints. “Your canines were so much sharper when I was in my seventh body-I cut my tongue open on one of them by accident. Not that you minded. Oh, I remember now, you were wearing makeup then too! I hope when the time comes you’ll realize what an astoundingly unlikely fashion statement that is. But then you’re often an astoundingly unlikely sort of person.” The Doctor smiled fondly.
“Has something happened to me?” the Master asked quietly. He’d let the Doctor rattle on because he’d thought it might provide him with interesting information, because the Doctor seemed particularly difficult to stop in this regeneration, and because he didn’t at all object to the Doctor kissing him and was willing to sacrifice the good condition of his kohl for the cause. But the unpleasant undercurrents of this very pleasant meeting were too strong to ignore. “Strange as it is for you to seek me out, it’s stranger still for you to tread on your own time-stream--” The Doctor opened his mouth to contradict him, but the Master interrupted him. “And you know very well that our timelines are too interconnected for it to count as anything less than that, whatever you might like the case to be.” The Master had always made sure of that.
The Doctor tried to answer him with a distracting kiss. The Master threaded his hands through the Doctor’s hair and let himself be lost for an instant, but then roughly jerked the Doctor’s head back and looked the Doctor in the eye. “Don’t prevaricate,” he hissed, “just tell me. You’re throwing yourself at me in the middle of a field. I can hardly fail to notice how terribly unusual such behavior is for you. Am I dead at last then, Doctor?”
Some part of the Doctor must have wanted him to know. The Doctor was too clever to risk coming to meet him and far too clever to give any hint of his reasons away, if, underneath his cheer, he wasn’t too worried or distraught to be acting sensibly. The Doctor had always been overly vulnerable to the pull of his own personal feelings, and, what’s worse, had always known it. It was why he was often so guarded with them. Was this, then, a warning? a farewell? (the Master stiffened) an apology?
“No, no!” The Doctor gestured vaguely. “Well, yes. Somewhat. But only temporarily, I’m sure.” The Doctor grinned, and the Master was forced to notice that this time the Doctor had a hyper-luminescent, sun-bright smile. Just looking at it made the corners of the Master’s mouth slink up. The Doctor tapped the side of his nose lightly with an elegant, long finger.
“Now don’t worry about yourself. I’m not worried, honestly. It’s a run-of-the-mill catastrophe for you, and anyway, it’s not for centuries yet. If I seem a bit maudlin, it’s because we’ve had a particularly nasty,” he winced for some reason the Master didn’t understand, “falling out. No, Master, you always come back. But over the course of our… particularly nasty argument, you indirectly caused my death--again, I might add. And as you know, a new body comes with all those new, fresh wants. You might go so far as to say you owe me, though of course I’d never be so crass.”
“No,” the Master agreed with a slight smirk.
“No,” the Doctor amiably continued, pressing his case. “So, you’re not around at the moment in my timeline, I’m rattling along all by my lonesome, and I find I’ve missed you. You-you, with your coat and your gloves and your stupid immobile hair and your unrepentant smirk and your unashamedly indulgent taste in cosmetics. I thought maybe you might be interested in helping me deal with my reminiscing mood? If I’m imposing I can just pop back to San Francisco-”
“Oh no.” The Master slinked a velvet-clad arm back behind the Doctor’s velvet-clad back. “No, I don’t think any Mission District side-trips will be necessary, do you Doctor? Since you were polite enough to ask, I’d be more than-”
“Excellent!” The Doctor beamed, kissing him and coming back up. “That's perfect! No, really it is!” He looked around, seemingly delighted with the trees and the grass and the glories of nature or some other maudlin nonsense. The Master would rather the Doctor contemplated the glories of nature a little closer to home, perhaps by cupping the Master’s cock through the velvet fabric again, as he had when they’d kissed. Even as he was wryly contemplating the Doctor’s inability to fix his attention on any greater goal, the Doctor suddenly stopped walking. “What a lovely patch of violets. Master, why don’t we fuck right here? No need to find a tedious bed--not at the moment, anyway. Besides, I’m rather eager to start, aren’t you?” The Master entirely forgave the Doctor his briefly confused priorities. “It’s been ages since we had wooded glen sex,” the Doctor recalled with another effulgent smile. “Not since that time during the Luddite-mmph!”
He was rudely interrupted by the Master tackling him to the ground.
“You know for a bloke wearing makeup, you’re awfully forceful.” the Doctor said wryly.
“Oh, Doctor,” the Master chuckled as he straddled the Doctor and ground their erections together through the fabric, “I’m going to enjoy making you shut up.”
*