Who you gonna call?
Pairing: Master/Doctor.
Rating: R.

In English.

It's one of those nights, when light is weak, Tardis is quiet and nothing can disturb two Time Lords. And the Master appreciates such moments, not only because they are rare (they are not that rare, he'd say) but because they are different every time. So he patiently waits till the Doctor pushes the last trigger, touches the wall, caressing it as if Tardis was his only precious woman and there he is - for the Master, dark eyes twinkling with childish happiness.

'It was fun', murmurs the Doctor as he looks through the book, making some notes. He bites the tip of the pencil, growls quietly and writes something violently in the old book. Then he looks at the Master over the glasses. 'Wasn't it?'
'Yeah, 'specially the part when you were jumping from one boat into another, crying like a girl', the Master softly chuckles and stands up.
His hands rest on the Doctor's shoulders and the Doctor shudders.
'Oi, someone needs to rest, huh?'
'You laugh at me - you don't get any sweeties. Get lost', the Doctor moves the glasses up and shrugs.
'You're so cruel to your poor prisoner..'
The Master's tone is no longer soft. He's had a bad day and he wants.. how do humans call it? Compensation.
Fingers ghosts the Doctor's neck and jawline, making the Time Lord strain. He surely can't read any longer, he obviously can't see a letter or distinguish a word. But he goes on and pays no attention towhat the Master is doing. But when the Master's hand handles his tie and causes him to choke a bit, he drops the book,gripping the Master's hand and punching him lightly into the belly. And the Doctor is free for a second, so he jerks away from his fellow Time Lord and disappears into one of the corridors of the Tardis.
'Hide and seek?' the Master looks satisfied and he takes off his jacket, rolling the sleeves.
'Sort of. Find me and get your prize', soft voice inside his head sounds amused.
'You'll regret it.'
''course I will.'

He finds the Doctor in the machinery room. It's hot, dark and tastes of some familiar oil and gas. Why shouldn't it, after all? It's Tardis.And she grew back home on Gallifrey.
'You should take your jacket off, unless you want a strike,' the Master shouts, because it's loud in here too.
'Take it off me!' the Doctor is still amused. And his voice seems.. drunk? When did he?
'What have you drunk, you idiot?'
'I think 't was some.. rum?'
The Master growls inwardly.

When he finally pins the Doctor to the wall, the wall seems to cool.The Doctor shudders and the Master has the whole opportunity to take off the Doctor's jacket and shirt, slowly and gently, touching the skin under his fingers and making the Doctor shiver from the contact. The Doctor stands in front of him half naked, a light shadow of fear is in his eyes and that particular fear is driving the Master mad. The first kiss is clumsy a bit, clash of tongues and teeth. The Doctor is gasping for air after it, knees trembling.
The Masters draws nearer, pressing his palm onto the Doctor's chest.
'I like that 'bout you, Theta..' he murmurs into the Doctor's ear,licking the earlobe. 'Just one touch.. and you're burning.. with desire.'
The Doctor turns away his head.
'Or may be..'
The Master buries his hand into the Doctor's dishevelled hair, looks into his eyes and catches the moan with his lips, biting, sucking and feeling the Doctor choking in the kiss. When he straightens up, it's the perfect view and it sends impulses straight in his cock. The Doctor's look as immoral as it can be, hair's a mess, a light flush on the cheeks, saliva glistening over his swollen lips and eyes darkening with nothing but lust.
'May be I just know how I should touch you?'
'Stop.. it. Master..' the Doctor's voice is hoarse.
That's the usual game. The Doctor always asks him to stop as if his life depends on it. He's afraid of himself in such moments, he's afraid that he is losing control over his own decisions and actions. But the Master never stops. And he knows the Doctor will finally surrender to this feeling and 'Master' will be the only word the Doctor will be able to cry out, begging him not to stop. Not to stop ever.
The rest of the (evening? day? Time line inside of the Tardis is too tricky) just flashes by and the Master lets his mind remember every tiny detail. He likes how the Doctor squirms under him, biting his lips and refusing to beg for more, pupils growing wider from the mixture of both pain and pleasure. He likes the way the Doctor looks at him in such moments - something in that look makes the Master's stomach lurch.
So he tastes and smells and touches and he can't tell what's better.
He knows just one thing, when the Doctor stares into nowhere, mumbling his name, his real name and coming into his palm. Tardis is watching them. And she's enjoying it just as he is.

@темы: драббл, english, Doctor Who