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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

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Chapter Seventeen
The Doctor clutched painfully hard at the back of the Master’s neck, his teeth gritted and his head tilted back against the tiled wall as he felt the other Timelord slide into him. The hot water had made it easier, but the pain still made the Doctor cry out through his clenched teeth, his stomach shuddering violently against the Master’s.
                The Master moved unusually slowly, a lidded look of deep enjoyment and almost curiosity as he held the Doctor’s jaw possessively between his fingers. A smirk twitched at the edges of his lips every time he pressed himself further forwards, edging slowly, deliberately inside the Doctor. With each movement the taller Timelord’s head jolted forwards as if to bury it in the Master’s shoulder, but each time the Master held it back with his fingers, watching the expressions fluctuate between pain and pleasure.
                The Doctor made a noise of discomfort as the Master entered him fully, feeling his muscles clench around the other man instinctively. Despite the receding pain he felt himself pulling the Master closer with his legs, the long-forgotten sense of urgency making his stomach twist almost desperately at the sensation of the other Timelord inside him. He’d spent so long trying to numb himself to the Master’s influence – even the last time the urge had been reluctant – but after so much silence; so much trauma, the heat of the Master’s flesh pressed so hard inside him felt like a furious anaesthetic. He growled in frustration as the Master simply clutched at his jaw, enjoying the twitching of muscles around him with a dark smirk.
                “Move.” The Doctor heard himself growl, as if from a distance. The Master leaned forward, resting his forehead once more against the Doctor’s. He bared his teeth in a dark smile.
                “Say please.”
                The Doctor’s eyes rolled backwards. He tried to lift his chin, pressing the back of his head against the hard surface of the wall in frustration, but the Master held him in place, his eyes darting across the other Timelord’s face in a strange mixture of dark enjoyment and affection, even as his eyes lidded against the lust and hot water.
                The Master moved – just slightly. He jerked his hips forward once, sharply. The Doctor opened his mouth in a sharp cry, reciprocating the movement as best they could, constricted by the wall behind him and the Master’s hand on his hip.
                The Master panted as the Doctor clenched his muscles desperately tight around him. He closed his eyes in enjoyment as the Doctor dug his nails into the back of his neck, drawing blood. He bit his own lip roughly, apparently trying to maintain control.
                “Why would I want to move,” he hissed into the Doctor’s face, “when being inside you is the only thing that makes the drums stop?”
                The Doctor gasped in frustration, unable to force the Master to move because of his position. He tried to jerk the other Timelord forwards with his legs, but the Master resisted, his eyes closed as if listening. The rush of water was the only noise the Doctor could hear except for his own heartbeats, and the sound of his own breath as he gasped desperate lungfulls of steam.
                A smirk of relief seemed to creep up one side of the Master’s face, as if the drumbeat in his head truly was gone. He let go of the Doctor’s chin and sighed; a shuddering sound that carried over the fall of the water. His teeth vanished behind his thin lips as he pressed them together, arching his neck against the feel of the Doctor’s fingers.
                “Master,” panted the Doctor eventually, unable to stop his hips from twitching at the lack of movement. The other Timelord’s eyes flashed open at the sound of his name. “Please, just move.”
                A shiver seemed to pass down the Master’s back. His eyes lidded heavily and he leaned in to the Doctor, his lips brushing against the taller Timelord’s as he opened his mouth in a wide, lustful grin. The Doctor leaned subconsciously towards the touch but the Master backed away teasingly, keeping his lips just out of reach.
                “Oh I just love it when you use that word.”
                The Doctor felt the Master’s grip tighten on his hip. The other hand slid up to rest against the wet tiles next to the Doctor’s head.
                And then the Master thrust forward.
                The Doctor screwed his eyes shut once again. The sudden force of the Master’s thrust shot through him like an electric shock, both painful and pleasurable at the same time. With no grip on his jaw to stop him he arched his back away from the wall, raising his face towards the falling water.
                The Master watched the reaction, his chest heaving harder at the mixed emotions on the Doctor’s face. He arched his neck once more and closed his eyes, panting through a wide smile.
                The two Timelords started to move, the Master setting the pace with his hand on the Doctor’s hip, tugging him forwards to meet the Master’s thrusts. The Doctor clenched his teeth, but not to hold back his cries: He’d already surrendered to instinct; to urges centuries old and almost forgotten, and shame didn’t even cross his clouded mind. His jaw dropped, each jolt of the Master’s hips eliciting a gruff groan; each groan making the Master’s pace rougher.
                The Master’s grin swept into a deep frown as the Doctor gripped harder around him with his muscles. His eyes squeezed harder shut and he moved his hand from the tiled wall, holding the Doctor aloft just by sheer pressure. He began to growl in response to the Doctor’s cries, matching the taller Timelord’s abandon with his own. Instinct took over, and almost thoughtlessly he pulled the Doctor’s face back down to his own and kissed him furiously.
                The Doctor groaned into the Master’s mouth, feeling his muscles start to seize up and tighten as the other Timelord’s hand slid silently away from his face, down his wet neck and crept down between them. The Doctor pulled away from the kiss with a loud gasp, baring his teeth as he felt the Master’s fingers wrap suddenly around his erection. It twitched at the touch, and the Master began to stroke, keeping rhythm with his own relentless thrusts.
                The new sensation made the Doctor even more vocal, screwing his eyes so tight that white dots began to appear behind them. He jerked into the touch, only vaguely aware that the Master was beginning to twitch inside him.
Despite the lack of speech, both Timelords suddenly reacted in unison, resting their heads against each other once more as they began to pant more loudly; faster. The Doctor’s voice began to crack through steam and overuse. The Master’s lips hovered inches from his own, both Timelords’ mouths open as both began to shudder. The Master seemed to snarl at the intensity.
                The Doctor felt the Master’s fingers; the heat of him, and suddenly shuddered, jerking uncontrollably into the other Timelord’s hand with a muffled shout. His fingers slipped on the back of the Master’s soaking neck as he came, scratching across his shoulders unconsciously.
                Whether because of the Doctor’s shout, the sensation of fingers scraping against his skin, the twitch of the Doctor’s flesh under his fingers, or through simple lust, the Master’s snarl deepened. He dug his fingers desperately hard into the Doctor’s hip and yanked him forwards once more, every muscle twitching as he came inside the other Timelord, hissing his pleasure.
                The hot water continued to hiss, washing away the evidence as they stayed in position, both struggling for breath, both feeling the stings and bruises as the lust began to fade. The Master’s neck and shoulders were red with scratch marks; the Doctor’s hips bore the deep imprint of fingernails.
                Jack blew out a breath. It felt like he’d been holding his breath for an hour. Watching the Doctor and the Master was like a psychological puzzle; the physicality of the situation aside, it was as though he was witnessing a silent battle between two minds he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. The dull ache – the after effect of his hangover – pounded in his head as he tried to wrap his mind around what he had seen.
                The Doctor was silent, watching. His eyes had never left the Master since the scene had begun, his expression deep and complex. Jack turned to him.
                “Why?”
                The question sounded ambiguous, even as Jack said it. Somehow, though, the Doctor understood. He raised his eyebrows and shook his head.
                “Oh Jack, if I knew that you wouldn’t be here.” He muttered darkly. “The planet was dying, and I was…” He watched as the Master collapsed against him, for once silent, still panting against the Doctor’s lips. “All those years alone. The Last Timelord.” The words fell from his mouth bitterly, as though the taste of them made his teeth ache. “And then this. I’ve spent my whole life justifying my actions, but even I can’t justify what I did here. Comfort? Madness? Weakness? Take your pick.”
                Jack nodded, but noticed the omission: the one motivation that – after this second scene; after watching the way it had started – he was now sure was a major, if incomprehensible factor. “How about love?”
                Something like sadness flickered behind the Doctor’s eyes and he clenched his jaw. He didn’t answer the question.
Q.N: Okay, I lied. I couldn’t leave them like that until the end of the weekend. Next chapter will now be left until possibly Sunday (honestly).
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Lost Boys