Cold Comfort
Title: Cold Comfort
Author: nine_ten_11th
Pairing: Doctor/Master
Warnings: oral sex, anal sex, and "Star Wars" references.
Summary: My version of their reunion in "The End of Time: Part 1".
Cold Comfort
There was a sandwich stand. He could smell the cooking onions, even though the stand appeared to be closed. Even though this place was only one step above a garbage dump, the Doctor was still quietly pleased to be searching for the Master in a place with a little shop. The Doctor scanned the area. This wasn’t really necessary - he would be able to feel the Master before he was able to see him - but made him feel like he was doing something. It was very Jedi, this search for his old friend turned enemy. In much younger days, they’d made jokes about Star Wars. The Master had always wanted to be Vader. Even now, the Doctor refused to identify that as a bad sign. What boy hadn’t been awed by that mask? And if that boy happened to be 80 years old, what matter? At the moment, the Doctor was more afraid that the Master would be Obi-Wan. If you strike me down. . .
The Doctor walked through the lot, occasionally pausing to kick pebbles. This got dust on his sneakers, but they were already far from pristine. Just as well - they looked better when knocked about a bit. The hairs on the back of the Doctor’s neck stood up as he saw a shadow dart between some large rocks. “I know you’re there,” he called to the shadow, and then felt a hand on his shoulder. The Master was standing behind him. So much for Jedis. “What are you doing here?”
“Just getting a bite to eat,” the Master said.
“Oh, right, the little shop,” the Doctor mused. “As hideouts go, I’ve seen worse.” He paused. “Bit of a comedown from Master of the Valiant, though, isn’t it?”
The Master showed no sign of amusement. “I’m so hungry,” he breathed.
The Doctor stared at him, and realized he felt afraid. He could mock the Master all he wanted, but this was still the most dangerous man he had ever known.
“Come with me,” the Master said.
Yeah,” said the Doctor, feeling in his pocket for the sonic screwdriver. “All right. We’ll go back to your place.”
The Master grabbed the Doctor’s right hand. “I remember when I had a spare one of these.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, it’s in a parallel world now. Attached to another version of me.” The Doctor was sharing more than he had planned to. “And probably married by now,” he added.
“That’s just like you,” said the Master. “Let other people have all the fun. So what’s this universe to you? Cold comfort?”
“Sometimes, yes. But. . .” he trailed off. “Just do whatever you were going to do. And then we can fight. Well, if you want. Which you always do.”
“How do you know I’m not going to kill you?”
“For all I know, you are.”
The Master began to stride in the direction of a large drainage pipe, dragging the Doctor along behind him. When they reached it, the Doctor saw wrappers and bottles - signs of habitation. “Tell me you’re not living in a pipe,” he said.
“Home sweet home,” said the Master. “It is a comedown from the Valiant. But it has one advantage.”
“And what would that be?”
“Here, you’re not a withered old man.”
“Now, now, to be fair,” said the Doctor, a bit nervously, “you’re the one who made me into a withered old man. If you’d wanted me to look like I do now, you just had to lay off the laser screwdriver. . .” the Doctor’s voice was stifled as the Master kissed him. Strange sensations - the acrid smell of onions in the air, the feel of a hand on the small of his back, the taste of a man he hadn’t kissed in a century. Traces of food on the Master’s breath - meat, bread, and something he didn’t quite recognize… he wrapped his arms around the Master’s neck. The Master suddenly disengaged.
“Cold comfort?” he asked, with the mad grin that the Doctor had seen so often. The Doctor so rarely had sex. When he’d shagged the Virgin Queen, that had been his first time in sixty years. His parallel self did get all the fun. He imagined the hand he’d lost running over Rose’s breasts.
“I don’t know,” he said, in one of the least glib statements he’d ever made in his life.
“Let’s take what we can get,” the Master breathed, and kissed the Doctor again. This time the Doctor responded immediately, caressing the Master’s tongue with his own. He reached his hands up inside the Master’s shirt. The Master pulled the sweatshirt off over his head, the t-shirt underneath coming off with it. Half-naked, he paused. “Do you want me?”
Instead of speaking, the Doctor slid his hands into the Master’s jeans. Answer enough. He felt the Master stiffen, growing hard under his touch. The Doctor began to undo the Master’s belt buckle.
“Stop,” said the Master. “Take off your coat.” The Doctor shrugged off his long coat and dropped it on the ground. “Take off your jacket.” The Doctor unbuttoned and carefully laid the jacket on the ground. “Shirt,” the Master continued. The Doctor laboriously undid his shirt placket and dropped the shirt on the jacket. He threw in the tie without being asked. “Trousers,” the Master said. “And shoes. And socks. I want you as naked as the day you were born.”
More naked, the Doctor thought, as he awkwardly stripped. He stood in the fading light, chilled by the breeze. He was already breathing hard - was it excitement? Shame? Both? He looked at the Master, all mad grin and bleached hair and bare chest. Wasn’t this a parody of Rose, the smooth and smiling blonde? Sex without love or safety? The Doctor had given up the love of his life, and now stood bared before his mortal enemy, waiting for him to make the next move.
The Master took a slow step toward him. “Doctor,” he breathed. “Hold still.” The Doctor closed his eyes, waiting for the Master’s touch. Instead, the Master put his forehead against his - the Doctor could feel electricity crackling inside the Master, the energy that should have gone to resurrecting him instead giving him insatiable hunger, lust… oh God, the link between Timelords. . . a sudden explosion of noise. Ratatatat, the rhythm he had so often claimed not to hear. The Doctor gasped and pulled back, and that was when the Master kissed him.
“Maybe, just once, we can both think about something else,” the Master whispered in his ear.
The Doctor pressed his lips against the Master’s, this time enjoying the odd taste. He ran his fingers through the Master’s hair, pulling it so that he could kiss the Master’s neck. The Doctor could taste the Master’s sweat, salt on his unwashed skin… he liked it. He moved his mouth down the Master’s neck to his chest, and was shoved down onto his knees the moment he did so. Not really a surprise - this was the Master, after all. The Doctor unbuttoned the jeans, took a deep breath, and leaned forward, putting his mouth around the Master’s cock. He could hear the Master moan as he did so. The Doctor sucked on him with a desperate enthusiasm, using lips and tongue. The Master, already excited, responded well - the Doctor was able to bring him to climax, then pulled his head back and let the Master come on his chest. The Doctor panted - he couldn’t remember the last time he had done that.
The Master knelt on the ground, now eye level with him. He was laughing. “Very good, Doctor! Oh, very good.” The Doctor tried to look away, but the Master grabbed him by the ear and held him in place. He stared into the Doctor’s eyes. “No shame, Doctor,” he whispered. The Master drew two hearts with the sticky liquid on the Doctor’s chest. “Your turn.”
With that, he pushed the Doctor over, so that he was lying on his back on the ground. The Doctor felt the Master’s mouth on him… how had the Master ever gotten so good at this? On the Valiant, hadn’t he only had women? The Doctor wished he could stop thinking and be in the moment. Sometimes it was distracting to be able to see all of space and time. But this was good. This was very good. The Master suddenly stopped.
“Oi!” the Doctor said, indignant. He looked down the length of his body and was met with the Master’s smile. “You are… you are a tease, is what you are!”
The Master laughed again. “I’ve killed millions of people, and that’s the worst you can call me?”
He grabbed the Doctor’s hips and rolled him over onto his stomach before the Doctor had time to protest. The Doctor had never been taken this way before, and found himself afraid. This couldn’t be good, pressed against the rocky ground, unable to see what was happening. The Master was still dangerous, for all the Doctor knew he was about to get this throat cut, and even if not… and then the Master was inside him. The Doctor gasped, then moaned in rhythm with the Master’s movement. He forgot about the dirt on his skin, the pebbles pressing into his knees, everything but the sensation of the Master fucking him with sweet ferocity, as the Master’s drumbeat sounded in his head and timelines stretched out before his eyes in all directions, sex in the pluripotent universe… when he came, it was an explosion, almost too much to take. The Doctor collapsed onto the ground. The Master was lying on top of him, breathing heavily.
The Doctor wasn’t sure what had happened. No one had sex that intense. This must be a trick, hypnosis, maybe he wasn’t even there. No, he was. Maybe it was like this for everyone, and he’d been missing out. Or maybe it was what he’d needed?
The Master sighed. “It was good, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it good? Why are you already miles off?”
“I’m sorry,” the Doctor said. “It was brilliant.” He could almost feel the Master grinning.
“I try to live up to my name, you know.”
“You do.”
The Doctor lay on the ground for a minute, with the Master on top of him, and felt almost peaceful. A sense of wholeness, for the first time in years. Then he caught a whiff of the sandwich stand again, and wrinkled his nose.
“Those onions are stinking,” he said. “Why don’t the cooks turn the fryer off?”
“Oh,” said the Master, in a postcoital glow. “Because I ate them.”
So that was what the mysterious taste had been. Of course.
The Doctor lay still. Sex without love or safety. The next move was his. If only he knew what it should be.
Author: nine_ten_11th
Pairing: Doctor/Master
Warnings: oral sex, anal sex, and "Star Wars" references.
Summary: My version of their reunion in "The End of Time: Part 1".
Cold Comfort
There was a sandwich stand. He could smell the cooking onions, even though the stand appeared to be closed. Even though this place was only one step above a garbage dump, the Doctor was still quietly pleased to be searching for the Master in a place with a little shop. The Doctor scanned the area. This wasn’t really necessary - he would be able to feel the Master before he was able to see him - but made him feel like he was doing something. It was very Jedi, this search for his old friend turned enemy. In much younger days, they’d made jokes about Star Wars. The Master had always wanted to be Vader. Even now, the Doctor refused to identify that as a bad sign. What boy hadn’t been awed by that mask? And if that boy happened to be 80 years old, what matter? At the moment, the Doctor was more afraid that the Master would be Obi-Wan. If you strike me down. . .
The Doctor walked through the lot, occasionally pausing to kick pebbles. This got dust on his sneakers, but they were already far from pristine. Just as well - they looked better when knocked about a bit. The hairs on the back of the Doctor’s neck stood up as he saw a shadow dart between some large rocks. “I know you’re there,” he called to the shadow, and then felt a hand on his shoulder. The Master was standing behind him. So much for Jedis. “What are you doing here?”
“Just getting a bite to eat,” the Master said.
“Oh, right, the little shop,” the Doctor mused. “As hideouts go, I’ve seen worse.” He paused. “Bit of a comedown from Master of the Valiant, though, isn’t it?”
The Master showed no sign of amusement. “I’m so hungry,” he breathed.
The Doctor stared at him, and realized he felt afraid. He could mock the Master all he wanted, but this was still the most dangerous man he had ever known.
“Come with me,” the Master said.
Yeah,” said the Doctor, feeling in his pocket for the sonic screwdriver. “All right. We’ll go back to your place.”
The Master grabbed the Doctor’s right hand. “I remember when I had a spare one of these.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, it’s in a parallel world now. Attached to another version of me.” The Doctor was sharing more than he had planned to. “And probably married by now,” he added.
“That’s just like you,” said the Master. “Let other people have all the fun. So what’s this universe to you? Cold comfort?”
“Sometimes, yes. But. . .” he trailed off. “Just do whatever you were going to do. And then we can fight. Well, if you want. Which you always do.”
“How do you know I’m not going to kill you?”
“For all I know, you are.”
The Master began to stride in the direction of a large drainage pipe, dragging the Doctor along behind him. When they reached it, the Doctor saw wrappers and bottles - signs of habitation. “Tell me you’re not living in a pipe,” he said.
“Home sweet home,” said the Master. “It is a comedown from the Valiant. But it has one advantage.”
“And what would that be?”
“Here, you’re not a withered old man.”
“Now, now, to be fair,” said the Doctor, a bit nervously, “you’re the one who made me into a withered old man. If you’d wanted me to look like I do now, you just had to lay off the laser screwdriver. . .” the Doctor’s voice was stifled as the Master kissed him. Strange sensations - the acrid smell of onions in the air, the feel of a hand on the small of his back, the taste of a man he hadn’t kissed in a century. Traces of food on the Master’s breath - meat, bread, and something he didn’t quite recognize… he wrapped his arms around the Master’s neck. The Master suddenly disengaged.
“Cold comfort?” he asked, with the mad grin that the Doctor had seen so often. The Doctor so rarely had sex. When he’d shagged the Virgin Queen, that had been his first time in sixty years. His parallel self did get all the fun. He imagined the hand he’d lost running over Rose’s breasts.
“I don’t know,” he said, in one of the least glib statements he’d ever made in his life.
“Let’s take what we can get,” the Master breathed, and kissed the Doctor again. This time the Doctor responded immediately, caressing the Master’s tongue with his own. He reached his hands up inside the Master’s shirt. The Master pulled the sweatshirt off over his head, the t-shirt underneath coming off with it. Half-naked, he paused. “Do you want me?”
Instead of speaking, the Doctor slid his hands into the Master’s jeans. Answer enough. He felt the Master stiffen, growing hard under his touch. The Doctor began to undo the Master’s belt buckle.
“Stop,” said the Master. “Take off your coat.” The Doctor shrugged off his long coat and dropped it on the ground. “Take off your jacket.” The Doctor unbuttoned and carefully laid the jacket on the ground. “Shirt,” the Master continued. The Doctor laboriously undid his shirt placket and dropped the shirt on the jacket. He threw in the tie without being asked. “Trousers,” the Master said. “And shoes. And socks. I want you as naked as the day you were born.”
More naked, the Doctor thought, as he awkwardly stripped. He stood in the fading light, chilled by the breeze. He was already breathing hard - was it excitement? Shame? Both? He looked at the Master, all mad grin and bleached hair and bare chest. Wasn’t this a parody of Rose, the smooth and smiling blonde? Sex without love or safety? The Doctor had given up the love of his life, and now stood bared before his mortal enemy, waiting for him to make the next move.
The Master took a slow step toward him. “Doctor,” he breathed. “Hold still.” The Doctor closed his eyes, waiting for the Master’s touch. Instead, the Master put his forehead against his - the Doctor could feel electricity crackling inside the Master, the energy that should have gone to resurrecting him instead giving him insatiable hunger, lust… oh God, the link between Timelords. . . a sudden explosion of noise. Ratatatat, the rhythm he had so often claimed not to hear. The Doctor gasped and pulled back, and that was when the Master kissed him.
“Maybe, just once, we can both think about something else,” the Master whispered in his ear.
The Doctor pressed his lips against the Master’s, this time enjoying the odd taste. He ran his fingers through the Master’s hair, pulling it so that he could kiss the Master’s neck. The Doctor could taste the Master’s sweat, salt on his unwashed skin… he liked it. He moved his mouth down the Master’s neck to his chest, and was shoved down onto his knees the moment he did so. Not really a surprise - this was the Master, after all. The Doctor unbuttoned the jeans, took a deep breath, and leaned forward, putting his mouth around the Master’s cock. He could hear the Master moan as he did so. The Doctor sucked on him with a desperate enthusiasm, using lips and tongue. The Master, already excited, responded well - the Doctor was able to bring him to climax, then pulled his head back and let the Master come on his chest. The Doctor panted - he couldn’t remember the last time he had done that.
The Master knelt on the ground, now eye level with him. He was laughing. “Very good, Doctor! Oh, very good.” The Doctor tried to look away, but the Master grabbed him by the ear and held him in place. He stared into the Doctor’s eyes. “No shame, Doctor,” he whispered. The Master drew two hearts with the sticky liquid on the Doctor’s chest. “Your turn.”
With that, he pushed the Doctor over, so that he was lying on his back on the ground. The Doctor felt the Master’s mouth on him… how had the Master ever gotten so good at this? On the Valiant, hadn’t he only had women? The Doctor wished he could stop thinking and be in the moment. Sometimes it was distracting to be able to see all of space and time. But this was good. This was very good. The Master suddenly stopped.
“Oi!” the Doctor said, indignant. He looked down the length of his body and was met with the Master’s smile. “You are… you are a tease, is what you are!”
The Master laughed again. “I’ve killed millions of people, and that’s the worst you can call me?”
He grabbed the Doctor’s hips and rolled him over onto his stomach before the Doctor had time to protest. The Doctor had never been taken this way before, and found himself afraid. This couldn’t be good, pressed against the rocky ground, unable to see what was happening. The Master was still dangerous, for all the Doctor knew he was about to get this throat cut, and even if not… and then the Master was inside him. The Doctor gasped, then moaned in rhythm with the Master’s movement. He forgot about the dirt on his skin, the pebbles pressing into his knees, everything but the sensation of the Master fucking him with sweet ferocity, as the Master’s drumbeat sounded in his head and timelines stretched out before his eyes in all directions, sex in the pluripotent universe… when he came, it was an explosion, almost too much to take. The Doctor collapsed onto the ground. The Master was lying on top of him, breathing heavily.
The Doctor wasn’t sure what had happened. No one had sex that intense. This must be a trick, hypnosis, maybe he wasn’t even there. No, he was. Maybe it was like this for everyone, and he’d been missing out. Or maybe it was what he’d needed?
The Master sighed. “It was good, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it good? Why are you already miles off?”
“I’m sorry,” the Doctor said. “It was brilliant.” He could almost feel the Master grinning.
“I try to live up to my name, you know.”
“You do.”
The Doctor lay on the ground for a minute, with the Master on top of him, and felt almost peaceful. A sense of wholeness, for the first time in years. Then he caught a whiff of the sandwich stand again, and wrinkled his nose.
“Those onions are stinking,” he said. “Why don’t the cooks turn the fryer off?”
“Oh,” said the Master, in a postcoital glow. “Because I ate them.”
So that was what the mysterious taste had been. Of course.
The Doctor lay still. Sex without love or safety. The next move was his. If only he knew what it should be.