The Doctor asked, turning her head to look at him. Her usually nimble fingers were fumbling with the earrings she was trying to properly put on. Having never had to wear them before this was a new challenge. It was strange but she liked how they looked. Especially the ear cuff that dangled on a chain.
“Mm. Onnnnnne sec.”
The Master turns a minuscule needle over intricate multi-hued copper wiring, on a superior external monitoring system for the Doctor’s TARDIS. If she won’t allow him to furbish it with weaponry, at least surveillance can slake his anxiety on her behalf. He places the project down on the workbench and saunters over to his oldest friend.
“Oh, that’s rather whimsical.”
He examines the earring closely; he has his own pair of black studs these days: factual, blunt, punctuating each side of his animated round face like a pair of periods, and somehow, alongside his eyeliner appropriately androgynous. Her suit her as well: a pale sterling silver and gold, hands of the two hues joined as though in warm collaboration, and a small galaxy of silver stars.
“ … It’ll hurt a bit. You should’ve left in the studs they used when you got the piercing, Hearts.”
His eyes, dark, as lustful as they are apologetic, simmer as his fingers grasp her earlobe. They fix upon hers.
The slim silver rod slips through the soft skin of her ear, with the slightest catch. Then he cuffs the stars in place.
Koschei hisses, and winces, in sympathy. He pauses, to turn and kiss her cheek, softly and warmly.
Icarus 