The Master chases, the Doctor runs. That's how it has always been, that's how it will always end.
Deep inside his hearts the Master knows it.
It is one reason why the death of his human gnaws so much on him. With her it was the other way around.
But...
A/N:We'll get back to Lucy in a bit. But for now have some tensimm smut. I know you've been waiting for it ;D
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There was safety in the half darkness of the bedroom. Half concealed secrets and half revealed truths. And all of them could comfortably stay in eternal twilight.
And who needs light when you have a mouth and a tongue to explore? The Master held the Doctor down with one hand, preventing him from moving too much while he made a mental map of that unfamiliar body of his. He took a note of the soft whine when he let his tongue glide over a nipple and remembered there was no reaction at all when he did the same near the belly button. There were shapes and forms to discover, the lean muscles in the Doctor's too long legs and the rough bones in those nimble fingers.
"Master." That made him stop and the distraction brought his awareness back to his own groin and the strain against his pants. "Take that damn clothes off." It wasn't a command. There was a soft hint of amusement in it. And yes, the Master was fully dressed still, whilst the Doctor lay before him, bare and very obviously not controlling his body reactions anymore.
It didn't matter much. They were half hidden and one naked and one clothed still made another half. So it matched.
"Make me." This was a command.
Only then did he remove the hand from the Doctor's chest and sat on his heels, patiently waiting. Well, as patient as one could be in his state. He recalled how there had not been the slightest hesitation when he had suggested moving somewhere quiet. He throbbed when the image from before shot into his mind, of the other man opening the door to his own bedroom, cluttered and dim, allowing the Master only a single step inside before he tugged at him, before his hands were under his waistcoat once more as if they had never left, of how tentative he had lowered his head to steal a new kiss, sweet and careful and still demanding in a way no one else would ever manage. Or even dare.
And now those hands were back, opening buttons and pushing cloth aside. The Master watched, his nostrils flared. The Doctor took his time undressing him and there was joy on his face while doing so. He was unwrapping a present he had wished for, but had been denied for too long.
"I didn't think you'd actually let me," said the Doctor when he helped get rid of the Master's shirt. "Touch you, that is."
There was no need for them to do any of this. It was pure indulgence.
"Why? It was fun the first time." Even though his head had been foggy and the wooden ship had creaked too loud.
"Thought it was just... a drunk thing, you know? And just because I said... It doesn't mean... I don't..."
"Shut up." The Master smiled fondly. "I've been having too many fantasies about you."
The Master gladly slipped from the bed to get rid of his pants and shorts, finally free from the too tight confines. In the half light he could swear the Doctor's irises vanished completely behind black. Even the rise and fall of his chest had quickened. Control be damned.
