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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 Four
The Master’s eyes closed, that look of triumph still etched on his manic features. He pressed himself harder against the Doctor, digging his nails into the other Timelord’s jaw until he drew blood. Black and sparkling in the moonlight, it trickled down neck and fingers alike. The Doctor made a noise of pain, his eyes screwed tightly shut, and yet he didn’t seem able to pull away as the Master’s fingers clutched harder, his kiss becoming ever more bruising and dominant.
                “Stop!”
                Jack shouted, turning his face away with a look of betrayal. The scene paused, etched into the air around them as the Doctor turned, his expression a mixture of apology and nervousness.
                “I can’t watch this.”
                The Doctor tried to keep his voice level, and yet it still shook.
                “You’ve got to.” He shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry Jack, but you’re my last chance.”
                The captain shook his head a little, then gritted his teeth, turning his back to the scene.
                “Doctor… that’s the Master. He…”
                The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words. He gritted his teeth instead.
                Jack pointed over his shoulder at the frozen figures behind him. “That man was a murderer and a torturer! People died. I died! Over and over for a whole year… and you were…”
                The thought was too much to bear. He swept a hand over his face, as if hoping to wake up from a nightmare, but when he finished the Doctor still stood beside him, watching the disappointment in his eyes.
                “I’m not perfect, Jack.” Said the Timelord suddenly. He raised his eyes to the moonlit ceiling and muttered: “I wish I was; but I’ve been shown time and time again how far from perfect I am.”
                The Doctor blew out a long, slow breath, turning back to the scene that disgusted the captain so much. He surveyed his own face: confused and intense; he looked into the Master’s and saw the expression of victorious glee. “I was hoping you of all people would be able to understand. We don’t choose who we-“ The Doctor stopped himself short, his mouth closing slowly as Jack’s eyes widened in understanding.
                “…what about Rose?”
                The word made the Doctor’s face contort in pain. Jack watched him walk away, towards the window in his memory.
                “…I lost her.” He sighed, “Just like I lost the Master, long, long before this. But even after nine-hundred years that connection; that pull was too strong. Besides…” He looked over his shoulder at Jack, a weak smile on his thin face, “…I thought I could change his mind.”
                Jack’s look of pain drifted into one of dim understanding. He suddenly felt somehow ashamed. The Doctor’s eyes seemed to be begging him for forgiveness, and after all: Jack knew all too well how it felt to want the wrong person.
                “I get it.” He conceded eventually, slowly raising his eyes back to the two kissing Timelords, forcing himself to accept the situation, even if it made him feel sick. “…But do I have to watch this? You could have told me. I would have understood.”
                The Doctor’s smile turned bitter. He raised his eyebrows. “Would you? Anyway, telling you wouldn’t have been enough. I need you to see it – all of it.”
                Jack shook his head in confusion. “I don’t understand. Can’t you just tell me what this is all for?”
                The Doctor clamped his jaw. He sniffed.
                “Soon.” He said simply, and the scene jumped back to life.

                The Doctor panted for breath, gasping between each attack of the Master’s lips on his. There was a moment of surrender, the Doctor’s fingers sliding between them and up the Master’s chest, his long pale fingers clawing at the skin under his shirt.
                And then it ended. The Doctor’s eyes opened wide in horror and he pushed him away. The Master stumbled backwards, but kept his balance.
                “…What?!” The Master panted impatiently, licking his lips. The Doctor seemed at a loss for words, his brow furrowed as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The Master rolled his eyes.
                “Listen to me Master, because this is the only warning you get.” Declared the Doctor, the horror and confusion still etched on his face. The Master snorted in disbelief, raising an eyebrow.
                “Oh… the Doctor’s giving warnings now. How very noble.”
                The other Timelord ignored him.
                “This is not going to happen. It is never going to happen.”
                “It already did happen.” Hissed the Master. He licked his lip slowly, his teeth bared in a dark smirk.
                “That ended long ago. Never again.” Insisted the Doctor. The smirk fell from the Master’s face.
                The Doctor pushed himself away from the wall, shivering as the blood on his neck cooled in the air. He circled the Master slowly, keeping his eyes on him like a wild animal.
                The Master stood still for a moment as the Doctor’s words began to sink in. His face began to change; his lips pressed together and his brow furrowed in supressed rage.
                “Every time!” He roared, grabbing the sterile-white chair and throwing it furiously across the room. It broke apart against the wall, the sharp crack of splintering wood filled the small space, debris flying through the air. A fraction later he turned on the Doctor, grabbing the taller man by the shirt and slamming him painfully into the wall. The Doctor gasped, a shockwave of pain shooting through his back as it hit the wall. He clutched at the Master’s gripping hand, trying to pry it free, but the Master’s strength was legendary; anger only made it worse. “Every time, Doctor. Even when you’re playing the hero, trying to prove how pathetically good you are, you’re still a coward.”
                The Doctor clamped his jaw, staring down at the livid eyes of the Master; his snarling face so close to his own. He could think of nothing to say in reply: everything the Master had said was true.
                Cruel, but painfully true.
                The Master snorted derisively at his silence, taking it as agreement. “Oh, and suddenly he shuts up.”
                “Master, just stop this. Just think. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
                He clutched the Doctor’s shirt even more tightly, forcing him to gasp for air.
                “I know exactly what I’m doing.” He laughed, despite the look of anger still contorting his face. He stared into the struggling face of the Doctor, “You’re the one who’s confused.”
                The Doctor felt his head begin to spin, the force of the Master’s grip cutting off his air supply. His eyes rolled, arms falling to his sides, unable to continue the struggle. He was at the Master’s mercy now, unable to fight back.
                Just as the Doctor’s eyes began to dim, the pressure on his throat pulled away. He gasped loudly, coughing through the burning in his lungs as he began to slide down the wall in relief. The Master held him up.
                “Oh no you don’t. Stay where you are, we’re not done talking.”
                The Doctor closed his eyes, breathing in hard, trying to stop his head from spinning. The Master pushed himself hard against him, forcing him back against the wall once more. This time, however, he leaned in to the side, brushing the Doctor’s ear with his snarling lips.
                “…You kissed me.” He whispered loudly, his breath on the other’s neck. The Doctor resisted the urge to lean in, his eyes still tightly shut.
                “A mistake.”
                The Master laughed dismissively. “Another lie, oh excellent. You’re getting so good at them now. You’ll soon be better than me.”
                The Doctor bit his lip, refusing to answer. He felt dizzy; sick to his stomach at what he had done, but at the same time he felt the Master’s lips against his ear, the breath on his neck; that magnetic energy that had drawn them together since childhood. The Master remained silent, breathing into the Doctor’s ear, his anger all but gone. The beginnings of a smirk twitched at his lips, barely concealed. He closed his eyes as if listening, waiting for something he knew would come.
                The Doctor’s mind was a flurry of half-understood urges and ideas; the impulse to run and the impulse to surrender fought inside him, as they always did, as they always had when it came to the Master. No other creature in the universe made him feel this way: torn between attraction and revulsion.
                The Master slid his tongue between his teeth and brushed it against the other’s ear. “Give in, Doctor.” He urged, the smirk no longer hidden, as if he already knew he had won. “Just once, give in.”
                That was all it took. The Master held back a barely-contained laugh as the other Timelord swallowed audibly, and then tilted his neck with furrowed brow, pulling the Master closer by his shirt.
                The Master accepted the invitation gladly. He forced himself between the Doctor’s legs and bit down on his collar bone, lapping at the drying trails of blood, savouring the metallic taste of his reclaimed conquest.
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Lost Boys