Prompt #28
Jul. 16th, 2008 06:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bagheera_sanThis is shamefully unbetaed. Point out any mistakes you spot!
Title: touched your perfect body (with his mind)
Rating: R
Pairing: Five/Ainley!Master
Length: 1571 words
Prompt: # 28 Grease
Summary: Doing good pays off for the Master. Angst levels at a minimum.
The space station shook and rattled under the strain of dragging the asteroid into a stable orbit around Sagrexas. The asteroid threatened to collide with the planet and wipe out every last living being there, from the ten-thousand year-old humanoid civilisation to the last crawling insect. Nyssa and Tegan were still down there. Their lives and those of everyone on Sagrexas depended on one very talented engineer in the space station's machine room right now. The Doctor didn't doubt that the Master could repair the engines in time, but skill was not the issue. The Master could just as easily have run to his TARDIS and left them all to die. And there was nothing the Doctor could do about it: if he left the space station's flight controls now, there'd be no one to adjust the gravity beam's strength, and the rusty, obsolete space station would tear apart before the Doctor reached his TARDIS.
Wall panels crashed down around the Doctor, and stale, reeking electrochemical fluid evaporated as the circuits overloaded, filling the room with a noxious scent. Another circuit blew, the sparks blinding him for a moment, and then suddenly all the lights flickered and died. The station was still. The bridge went pitch black, the only noise the Doctor's rapid breathing and the sizzling of burnt plastic. A groan went through the deserted corridors, then settled into a low hum: the station had stopped shaking. Monitors came back to life one by one, and on the largest screen, Sagrexas came into view as an arched blue horizon spanning the whole image. It shimmered peacefully, bathing the otherwise dark bridge into soft blue twilight.
A second later the Doctor remembered the asteroid. A single glance at the console told him that the station was back to full power. "Yes!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling with excitement. "Ground control, this is station five, the Doctor speaking. We're back online! We've got the asteroid!"
"Ground control to station five! Can you stabilize it?"
His fingers flew over the console, typing in the gravity beam configuration needed to tow the asteroid away from Sagrexas without breaking into little bits that would rain down into the atmosphere. It was a child's play with the power back.
"Done! It's in a stable orbit… now! You're safe! I repeat, you're all safe!"
There was shouting and laughing, so loud that the Doctor had to close the connection to ground control to keep his eardrums from bursting. Slowly, a grin worked its way through his mask of tension. He got up, rubbing his hands on his striped trousers and turned around to find the Master entering the bridge.
The Doctor quickly crossed the distance between them. He could hardly keep from hugging the shorter man, and the restrained exuberance had him bouncing on his feet. "We did it! I can't believe you actually helped me!"
The Master looked worse for wear than the Doctor: his hair was dishevelled and his velvet jacket torn at the right shoulder, the knees of his trousers were covered with some sticky dark fluid and his cheeks were smeared with grease. The Doctor had taken off his coat and his jumper and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, but the Master had gone down to the machine room dressed as usual, and had to be uncomfortable in his warm, high-collared tunic. Nevertheless he appeared unaffected by all the excitement, and his eyes rested on the Doctor with the same unwavering intensity as ever.
"I'm sure there were ulterior motives but – what am I saying. Thank you, Master. I mean it. Thank you for helping me today."
The Master's smirk looked surprisingly pleased. "What can I say? You asked very nicely, Doctor. A 'please' at the right moment can occasionally do wonders. And you'd probably have wasted another regeneration foolishly trying to save all those lower creatures if I hadn't helped you."
Joy and relief, mixed with a sudden, aching fondness for his old enemy, moved the Doctor to do something rather impulsive. He dove in, framed the Master's smudged face with both hands and kissed him soundly. There was nothing he loved as much as bravery, and people jumping over their own shadow, revealing their best side, and even if that wasn't what it was, today the Master made him feel that way. A second later his reason caught up with the Doctor, and he felt his cheeks heat in shock at what he was doing. The Master, too, was frozen on the spot for a terrifyingly long moment, but then he seized the Doctor's wrists, and instead of pushing him away, kissed back hungrily.
The Master drove them backwards step by step. They narrowly avoided tripping over anything on the debris-littered floor until the Doctor felt something sharp stab into his lower back and banged his head on a dead monitor. The Master had backed him into another console, trapped the Doctor's hands against the mess of wires and broken panels, and was kissing him hungrily.
"Ah," the Doctor stammered, when the Master broke the kiss to catch his breath and instantly returned to attack the Doctor's neck instead, sucking and biting. "Oh, I'm ticklish there! Ha! I mean to say – what are we doing?"
"You were right," the Master answered him, beard bristling against the Doctor's collarbone. "There are always ulterior motives."
The Doctor laughed. "Well. I'd have been a little worried if you had really done something selfless."
Pausing, the Master looked up, pinning the Doctor with a bright, hungry stare. "I want you."
His indrawn breath gave the Doctor's excitement away. Just this once, he thought, just this little moment when everyone's safe and he did something good. He kissed the Master on the lips, a quick peck. "Good. So do I." It felt wonderful not to lie. "Let's go to the TARDIS."
The Doctor tried to move, but the Master pressed him back again, and seized the Doctor's shirt-collar. "Stay, Doctor." He ripped the shirt open, popping button by button, and quickly moved on to the Doctor's braces, pulling them down over the Doctor's shoulders and arms.
"What, here?" the Doctor protested. "You want to do this here, where it's half-dark, among all the dirt and wreckage? Shouldn't we get cleaned up a little?"
The Master frowned, drawing back. "So you can change your mind?"
He had to smile at the Master's tight, angry voice. It was a lop-sided, somewhat unfocused smile, flirting as he ran his hands up the Master's jacket, soothing him, drawing him back in, but the Doctor was still amused. All that talk about ulterior motives was just bluffing. The Master very literally didn't believe his own luck. "You know, there's ways to combine celebrating *and* getting cleaned up."
"Does it matter?" the Master asked, still bristling a bit, even as he kissed the Doctor again, and deliberately rubbed his smudged cheek against the Doctor's clean skin. "Does all the dirt bother you? Are you afraid you won't get the stains off your clothes when we're done?" The Master's fingers were filthy with something viscous and sticky. He dragged them down the Doctor's chest and belly, unbuttoning his trousers.
"It'll be uncomfortable." The Doctor tried to be reasonable, even though he was panting, bucking into the Master's clever, sticky hand. Bare, dirty skin, so much better than gloves, so much closer and warmer. "Wouldn't you - - rather - - on a bed?"
The Master kept a steady pace with his hand, and leaned against the Doctor with his fully weight, keeping the Doctor's back pressed against the uncomfortable surface of broken plastic and scarcely cooled-down metal, knobs and spikes and scratchy wire. With his trousers down around his ankles, his legs especially bumped into all sorts of uncomfortable edges, and something cool was leaking against the back of the Doctor's left knee, running down his calf. But at the same time there was the velvet of the Master's clothes, his warm, solid body. The Doctor gave in to the sensations, taking whatever the Master would give him.
"I'll have you on a bed of filth and broken things," the Master whispered against his ear, "and you'll be just as beautiful. It's all dust, Doctor. The station, the asteroid, the planet, this body I wear, it's all just dust and dirt. And nothing can touch you."
The Doctor writhed, and came with a shudder, burying his face against the Master's shoulder. He didn't feel as if nothing could touch him, not with his belly stained and the Master's hands all over him, and his body naked and soft, displayed and trapped.
"Don't," he muttered when he had caught his breath, still not lifting his head from the Master's shoulder. "Don't say such - - " he hesitated, almost said 'beautiful', "terrible things."
"Because they touch you, don't they, Doctor?" The Master's tone was fierce, even though he kept his voice low. "Words touch you."
"They do," the Doctor sighed, his breath ghosting over the Master's skin for a moment. "You've no idea - - "
The Master moved away a little, forcing the Doctor to straighten and find his own balance while the Master looked him up and down. Then he tipped up the Doctor's chin and kissed him.
"Words last longer than stains," the Master said. He brushed two fingers over the Doctor's cheekbone, leaving parallel streaks of dark grease.
Title: touched your perfect body (with his mind)
Rating: R
Pairing: Five/Ainley!Master
Length: 1571 words
Prompt: # 28 Grease
Summary: Doing good pays off for the Master. Angst levels at a minimum.
The space station shook and rattled under the strain of dragging the asteroid into a stable orbit around Sagrexas. The asteroid threatened to collide with the planet and wipe out every last living being there, from the ten-thousand year-old humanoid civilisation to the last crawling insect. Nyssa and Tegan were still down there. Their lives and those of everyone on Sagrexas depended on one very talented engineer in the space station's machine room right now. The Doctor didn't doubt that the Master could repair the engines in time, but skill was not the issue. The Master could just as easily have run to his TARDIS and left them all to die. And there was nothing the Doctor could do about it: if he left the space station's flight controls now, there'd be no one to adjust the gravity beam's strength, and the rusty, obsolete space station would tear apart before the Doctor reached his TARDIS.
Wall panels crashed down around the Doctor, and stale, reeking electrochemical fluid evaporated as the circuits overloaded, filling the room with a noxious scent. Another circuit blew, the sparks blinding him for a moment, and then suddenly all the lights flickered and died. The station was still. The bridge went pitch black, the only noise the Doctor's rapid breathing and the sizzling of burnt plastic. A groan went through the deserted corridors, then settled into a low hum: the station had stopped shaking. Monitors came back to life one by one, and on the largest screen, Sagrexas came into view as an arched blue horizon spanning the whole image. It shimmered peacefully, bathing the otherwise dark bridge into soft blue twilight.
A second later the Doctor remembered the asteroid. A single glance at the console told him that the station was back to full power. "Yes!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling with excitement. "Ground control, this is station five, the Doctor speaking. We're back online! We've got the asteroid!"
"Ground control to station five! Can you stabilize it?"
His fingers flew over the console, typing in the gravity beam configuration needed to tow the asteroid away from Sagrexas without breaking into little bits that would rain down into the atmosphere. It was a child's play with the power back.
"Done! It's in a stable orbit… now! You're safe! I repeat, you're all safe!"
There was shouting and laughing, so loud that the Doctor had to close the connection to ground control to keep his eardrums from bursting. Slowly, a grin worked its way through his mask of tension. He got up, rubbing his hands on his striped trousers and turned around to find the Master entering the bridge.
The Doctor quickly crossed the distance between them. He could hardly keep from hugging the shorter man, and the restrained exuberance had him bouncing on his feet. "We did it! I can't believe you actually helped me!"
The Master looked worse for wear than the Doctor: his hair was dishevelled and his velvet jacket torn at the right shoulder, the knees of his trousers were covered with some sticky dark fluid and his cheeks were smeared with grease. The Doctor had taken off his coat and his jumper and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, but the Master had gone down to the machine room dressed as usual, and had to be uncomfortable in his warm, high-collared tunic. Nevertheless he appeared unaffected by all the excitement, and his eyes rested on the Doctor with the same unwavering intensity as ever.
"I'm sure there were ulterior motives but – what am I saying. Thank you, Master. I mean it. Thank you for helping me today."
The Master's smirk looked surprisingly pleased. "What can I say? You asked very nicely, Doctor. A 'please' at the right moment can occasionally do wonders. And you'd probably have wasted another regeneration foolishly trying to save all those lower creatures if I hadn't helped you."
Joy and relief, mixed with a sudden, aching fondness for his old enemy, moved the Doctor to do something rather impulsive. He dove in, framed the Master's smudged face with both hands and kissed him soundly. There was nothing he loved as much as bravery, and people jumping over their own shadow, revealing their best side, and even if that wasn't what it was, today the Master made him feel that way. A second later his reason caught up with the Doctor, and he felt his cheeks heat in shock at what he was doing. The Master, too, was frozen on the spot for a terrifyingly long moment, but then he seized the Doctor's wrists, and instead of pushing him away, kissed back hungrily.
The Master drove them backwards step by step. They narrowly avoided tripping over anything on the debris-littered floor until the Doctor felt something sharp stab into his lower back and banged his head on a dead monitor. The Master had backed him into another console, trapped the Doctor's hands against the mess of wires and broken panels, and was kissing him hungrily.
"Ah," the Doctor stammered, when the Master broke the kiss to catch his breath and instantly returned to attack the Doctor's neck instead, sucking and biting. "Oh, I'm ticklish there! Ha! I mean to say – what are we doing?"
"You were right," the Master answered him, beard bristling against the Doctor's collarbone. "There are always ulterior motives."
The Doctor laughed. "Well. I'd have been a little worried if you had really done something selfless."
Pausing, the Master looked up, pinning the Doctor with a bright, hungry stare. "I want you."
His indrawn breath gave the Doctor's excitement away. Just this once, he thought, just this little moment when everyone's safe and he did something good. He kissed the Master on the lips, a quick peck. "Good. So do I." It felt wonderful not to lie. "Let's go to the TARDIS."
The Doctor tried to move, but the Master pressed him back again, and seized the Doctor's shirt-collar. "Stay, Doctor." He ripped the shirt open, popping button by button, and quickly moved on to the Doctor's braces, pulling them down over the Doctor's shoulders and arms.
"What, here?" the Doctor protested. "You want to do this here, where it's half-dark, among all the dirt and wreckage? Shouldn't we get cleaned up a little?"
The Master frowned, drawing back. "So you can change your mind?"
He had to smile at the Master's tight, angry voice. It was a lop-sided, somewhat unfocused smile, flirting as he ran his hands up the Master's jacket, soothing him, drawing him back in, but the Doctor was still amused. All that talk about ulterior motives was just bluffing. The Master very literally didn't believe his own luck. "You know, there's ways to combine celebrating *and* getting cleaned up."
"Does it matter?" the Master asked, still bristling a bit, even as he kissed the Doctor again, and deliberately rubbed his smudged cheek against the Doctor's clean skin. "Does all the dirt bother you? Are you afraid you won't get the stains off your clothes when we're done?" The Master's fingers were filthy with something viscous and sticky. He dragged them down the Doctor's chest and belly, unbuttoning his trousers.
"It'll be uncomfortable." The Doctor tried to be reasonable, even though he was panting, bucking into the Master's clever, sticky hand. Bare, dirty skin, so much better than gloves, so much closer and warmer. "Wouldn't you - - rather - - on a bed?"
The Master kept a steady pace with his hand, and leaned against the Doctor with his fully weight, keeping the Doctor's back pressed against the uncomfortable surface of broken plastic and scarcely cooled-down metal, knobs and spikes and scratchy wire. With his trousers down around his ankles, his legs especially bumped into all sorts of uncomfortable edges, and something cool was leaking against the back of the Doctor's left knee, running down his calf. But at the same time there was the velvet of the Master's clothes, his warm, solid body. The Doctor gave in to the sensations, taking whatever the Master would give him.
"I'll have you on a bed of filth and broken things," the Master whispered against his ear, "and you'll be just as beautiful. It's all dust, Doctor. The station, the asteroid, the planet, this body I wear, it's all just dust and dirt. And nothing can touch you."
The Doctor writhed, and came with a shudder, burying his face against the Master's shoulder. He didn't feel as if nothing could touch him, not with his belly stained and the Master's hands all over him, and his body naked and soft, displayed and trapped.
"Don't," he muttered when he had caught his breath, still not lifting his head from the Master's shoulder. "Don't say such - - " he hesitated, almost said 'beautiful', "terrible things."
"Because they touch you, don't they, Doctor?" The Master's tone was fierce, even though he kept his voice low. "Words touch you."
"They do," the Doctor sighed, his breath ghosting over the Master's skin for a moment. "You've no idea - - "
The Master moved away a little, forcing the Doctor to straighten and find his own balance while the Master looked him up and down. Then he tipped up the Doctor's chin and kissed him.
"Words last longer than stains," the Master said. He brushed two fingers over the Doctor's cheekbone, leaving parallel streaks of dark grease.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-07-16 04:55 pm (UTC)"And you'd probably have wasted another regeneration foolishly trying to save all those lower creatures if I hadn't helped you."
I like the possible implication that the Master has a bit of a thing for this particular regeneration, heehee~
no subject
Date: 2008-07-16 06:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-16 05:24 pm (UTC)"I'll have you on a bed of filth and broken things," the Master whispered against his ear, "and you'll be just as beautiful. It's all dust, Doctor. The station, the asteroid, the planet, this body I wear, it's all just dust and dirt. And nothing can touch you."
Killer poetic line there.
Poor Master doesn't get a ton of reciprocity here though. I'm sure he v. much enjoys his Doctor-time, but then he has to either continue on after where you leave off, or swagger away having achieve the verbal win, presumably without lovin.'
"Don't," he muttered when he had caught his breath, still not lifting his head from the Master's shoulder. "Don't say such - - " he hesitated, almost said 'beautiful', "terrible things."
Also, that's a brill description of fascination, and I wish there were more fic that explored it in this manner.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-16 06:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-16 06:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-16 06:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-16 05:46 pm (UTC)(BTW 'suspenders' is the American word for what Brit's call 'braces'. While neither character is technically British, the American usage is slightly throwing. Nowhere near enough to stop me enjoying this thoroughly, however.)
no subject
Date: 2008-07-16 06:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-16 06:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-16 07:46 pm (UTC)That touch/untouch line of thought through this was wonderful, and it really suits Five.
Childishly, I also rejoiced at the Master finally 'dirtying' the Doctor up. There's something about Five's appearence that really makes me want to see him covered in mud. ^_^
no subject
Date: 2008-07-16 07:55 pm (UTC)Funnily, when I had the idea for this, I sort of went through several D/M pairings before ending up with Five as the most suitable Doctor, because, yeah. He totally should have been forced to mudwrestle at least once *g*
no subject
Date: 2008-07-16 08:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-17 10:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-16 08:50 pm (UTC)*wibble* Words cannot describe the love I have for you simply based on you writing this line. I also love the subtle air of desperation coming from the Master, despite his seeming control of the situation ("Let's go to the TARDIS"; "No, you'll change your mind!"), which is a theme that seems to pretty much own him.
Wonderful fic. :)
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Date: 2008-07-17 10:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-17 10:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-16 10:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-17 10:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-16 11:53 pm (UTC)great parting shot from the master also.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-17 10:28 am (UTC)Totally. For once Five is all "yay! I don't hate you right now!" and the Master just can't wrap his mind around that.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-17 01:14 am (UTC)The Doctor writhed, and came with a shudder, burying his face against the Master's shoulder. He didn't feel as if nothing could touch him, not with his belly stained and the Master's hands all over him, and his body naked and soft, displayed and trapped.
"Don't," he muttered when he had caught his breath, still not lifting his head from the Master's shoulder. "Don't say such - - " he hesitated, almost said 'beautiful', "terrible things."
That bit. That bit and all the rest of it - simply breathtaking. And words touching the Doctor where stains cannot. Loved. It.
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Date: 2008-07-18 08:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-17 01:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-18 08:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-18 04:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-17 07:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-18 08:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-19 03:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-19 07:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-19 08:56 pm (UTC)Generell dein Schreibstil, die Art wie du mit Wörtern umgehst und sie einsetzt find ich sehr beeindruckend.
Ich glaub zwei andere Doctor/Master fics von dir habe ich schon gelesen (in best_enemies) und ich werde mich bald an "living things" machen (die aus dem kink meme hab ich schon gelesen, und extra damit ich sie besser verstehe scream of the shalka angeguckt, aber die längere version hab ich noch nicht geschafft, weil ich im Urlaub war < omg RL!1).
Und ich wollte noch loswerden, dass ich dich friende, weil deine fanfics wunderbar geschrieben sind und dein gesamtes LJ auch einen interessanten Eindruck macht.
So, ich weiß noch nicht ob ich innerhalb der nächsten Woche Zeit für livejournal hab, aber danach werd ich auf jeden Fall hier wieder vorbeischauen.
:)
ps: ich hoffe es stört dich nicht, dass ich jetzt auf deutsch geschrieben hab. i will use english if you prefer that.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-20 08:55 am (UTC)Hallo also, new friend! Und danke für das feedback :)
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Date: 2008-07-30 10:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-31 10:20 am (UTC)