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Lost Boys	By : Turkaholic Category: 1 through F > Doctor Who Views: 3820 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, any of its characters or trademarks. I make no money from the writing of this fanfiction

Chapter List
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Chapter Sixteen
                The Master made a noise in the back of his throat; a feral growl as he pushed himself furiously against the Doctor, pressing the taller Timelord into the cold white wall. The Doctor felt the freezing water trickle down his back, but found that it no longer held a sting. He was acting on instinct now, the reasons no longer mattered: shock or lust; love, comfort or connection made no difference. All that seemed to exist was him and the Master, their bodies moving in almost perfect unison as though in a long-rehearsed dance. The idea of captive and captor simply seemed to melt away in the sterile air, and the Doctor threw himself into the kiss, vying with the Master’s demanding lips for control.
                The Master’s expression was one of deep concentration, for once his features not contorted in manic glee or anger. He pulled the Doctor backwards by the hair, tugging the wet strands between his fingers as the Doctor’s own hands slid down his neck, scraping his fingertips against the skin. The Master reacted to the touch with a sharp intake of breath.
                “…Again?”
                The Doctor was frowning almost painfully, but his lips twitched reluctantly at the lack of shock in the captain’s voice. “Sorry. Probably should have warned you before you came along, actually.”
                Jack bowed his head and laughed. “You think?” He raised his eyes back to the scene and frowned once more. “I don’t get it though: the more I see, the more confused I get.”
                The Doctor lowered his eyes briefly. “You’re not the only one.” He muttered to himself.
                The Master arched forwards as the other Timelord’s hands – still shaking – tugged at his tie. It slid down his neck with a soft hiss and fell to the floor. The Master kicked it away with a flick of his foot.
                The Doctor didn’t wait. He pulled his own jacket off his shoulders, still kissing the Master deep and hard as he shook the clammy material from his arms. Without a prompt the Master did the same, pulling his fingers reluctantly from their hold in the Doctor’s hair. Taking advantage of the freedom, the Doctor pressed his lips harder against the Master’s, forcing him back for a brief moment. The Master reacted by taking his lower lip in between his teeth and tugging it chidingly. The Doctor panted at the pressure.
                The Doctor pulled his lip free, feeling it snap back against his teeth as the Master finally let go. Both men panted, their foreheads touching once more, both sets of eyes tightly closed. The Doctor could feel the Master’s chest heaving under his fingers as they moved quickly down and began fumbling with the still-wet buttons.
                The Master’s eyes opened, watching intensely the expression of abandon on the other Timelord’s face: the way his brow furrowed, his eyes still closed; the redness under his lip where teeth had grazed against skin. He lowered his eyes to the Doctor’s fingers as they slid the shirt off his shoulders. His lips twitched just slightly.
                The Doctor moved on to his own shirt, fully aware of the gaze of the Master, even though he had his eyes still closed. He fumbled frustratedly with the buttons, all the hundreds of years of learning patience and self-control falling away in a second. The Master’s lips twitched a little wider as the Doctor gritted his teeth and panted in frustration. He watched, savouring the expression on the Doctor’s face for a moment, then batted the other Timelord’s hands away and began doing it himself.
                The Doctor finally opened his eyes at the gesture, his arms falling to his sides. He half expected a sardonic remark, but the Master was silent. The shorter Timelord’s lips curled up in amusement, but for once there was no malice there. His eyes flicked up to the Doctor’s face as he finished the job, the smirk falling into a frown as he met the heavy-lidded eyes.
                Both men surveyed each other for a moment. The Doctor felt a whisper of doubt in the back of his mind, but he was beyond the reach of logic or reason. Every excuse sounded empty and hollow. He let his eyes close, feeling the Master’s eyes on him, and pushed the doubt recklessly back into silence. He slid his hands to the other Timelord’s stomach and dragged them down the wet skin, pulling at the belt resting on his hips.
                The unexpected touch made the Master’s hips arch forward for a moment. His eyes flickered closed and he let out a shaking breath, his lips twitching once more at the Doctor’s impatience, but once again he said nothing. Instead his fingers copied the actions of the taller Timelord, dragging themselves down over his stomach. One hand stopped to work at the Doctor’s trousers. One didn’t.
                The Doctor panted hard, open-mouthed as the Master’s hand found its way to his groin. He pressed his forehead harder against the other’s as the Master began to massage roughly. The Doctor’s hands began to shake more intensely. He gave up trying to unbuckle the Master’s belt and instead tugged roughly at it, pulling it down past the other Timelord’s hips through sheer force. The Master hissed as the Doctor’s nails dug into his skin, but made no attempt to stop him. Eyes closed, the shorter Timelord’s face contorted into a lust-fuelled frown and his head twitched. He pressed his lips against the Doctor’s and pushed his head back against the wall, not caring as the Doctor’s still-wet hair cast drops of cold water down his face.
                The Doctor arched into the Master’s hand, throwing his impatience into the sudden kiss. He dragged the Master’s belt downwards and let go, letting his trousers slide. He felt the Master move as he shook them off deftly.
                The Master pulled his hand away from the Doctor’s groin. The sudden lack of contact made the taller Timelord groan into the kiss, pressing his hips forward instinctively to regain what he’d lost. The Master growled in reply, grabbing the Doctor’s hips and pulling the material there downwards pointedly, as if to show why he had stopped.
                There was a moment in which the two Timelords continued to kiss, lips pressing forcefully against each other as if pushed together by an outside force. The clothes that now scattered the tiled floor were now dark and water-logged, soaking in the pools left over from the Master’s furious attempt to bring the Doctor back. Neither man seemed to care.
                Almost in unison the two Timelords parted, both breathing heavily at the intensity of the kiss. The Doctor leaned his head back against the wall, raising his eyes to the blank ceiling as he tried to regain his breath. The Master slid his fingers greedily up the other man’s bare skin and massaged his hips momentarily. The Doctor felt himself twitch.
                The Master watched him in silence. He seemed to be trying to think, beyond whatever other emotions and instincts were at the front of his mind. His fingers suddenly gripped at the Doctor’s hips with his fingertips and pulled him bodily forward. He leaned up to the Doctor’s ear.
                “In the shower.” He muttered thickly. The Doctor’s eyes lidded and he leaned instinctively in to the sound of his voice, even as he frowned in confusion, unable to think. The Master closed his eyes, a tight-lipped frown on his face as the Doctor nudged against his head animalistically. He swallowed and reciprocated momentarily, and then sighed impatiently and bit his ear.
                The Doctor gritted his teeth at the pain, pulling away. The Master kept his grip tight on his hips.
                “Shower.” He repeated in a growl.
                “Why?” managed the Doctor, forcing the word out in a shaking breath.
                “You’re meant to be a genius.” Snorted the Master, baring his teeth in irritation, and yet he massaged the Doctor’s hips again as he spoke. “Work it out.”
                Genius or not, it took a moment for the meaning of the words to penetrate the complex layers of instinct, lust and thought that filled the Doctor’s mind to bursting. Eventually realisation came to him. He slid his own hands over the Master’s and pulled them away. The Master growled in frustration at what he thought was sudden rejection, averting his eyes and narrowing them at the opposite wall. He licked his upper lip distractedly.
                “And here we-“
                The Doctor took him off guard.
                The taller Timelord held onto his hands and pushed him back over the threshold of the shower, silencing him with another kiss. The Master nearly lost his balance at the sudden movement, but closed his eyes, a smirk of enjoyment flashed briefly across his lips. He let the Doctor push him up against the cold tiles, hissing almost in enjoyment at the feel of them pressed up against his back. A moment later the Doctor let his hands go. The Master slammed his newly free hand against the shower unit. It began to hiss.
                The noise was enough to distract the Doctor from what he was doing; or at least: to distract him enough for the Master’s liking. The Doctor stalled at the sudden sound and the Master’s lips twitched at the moment of weakness. He pulled away from the kiss, grabbing the Doctor’s waist and flipping their positions.
                The Doctor was too far gone to even care. Even the coldness of the tiles at his back seemed numb and distant. The only thing that seemed to make sense was the warmth of the Master’s skin. He tugged the other Timelord between his legs as the hot water began to fall, slicking his hair over his face.
                The Master complied, settling between the Doctor’s legs without a moment’s hesitation. His fingers gripped the other Timelord’s hips hard and lifted them, pulling his legs around his waist and pushing himself closer, squeezing the Doctor between his chest and the wet wall as the hot water slid down them both.
                The Doctor gritted his teeth and panted as he locked his legs around the Master, his hearts beating desperately in his chest. The other man shifted a little, his face still contorted in a hungry glare. He watched the Doctor’s eyes screw shut as he pressed himself against him.
                The Doctor felt the pressure and grabbed the back of the Master’s neck, breathing so heavily that the roar of the falling water couldn’t hide it. He bowed his head and buried it in the Master’s neck, out of instinct this time rather than shame.
                The other man paused. His eye twitched. He pressed the Doctor harder against the wall and raised a hand, taking his chin in his fingers and forcing it back upwards.
                “No.” The Master growled.
The strange tone of the word carried even over the roar of water, but before the Doctor could even consider what the tone was the other Timelord pushed himself inside, and he forgot everything else.
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Lost Boys