The Doctor, who had tried to approach with a softness and understanding, feels the Master’s intensity and insistence that he is still hiding, still running after all this time. A soft growl of frustration rumbles in his chest and his grip tightens on the Master’s upper arms.
He is not gentle, and a fire burns in his eyes, dangerous and white hot. If he wants to be greedy, if he wants every ounce of the Doctor, then so be it.
“Why must I ALWAYS be hiding from you? Why must I be running? When I’m right here and telling you that together, we are unique and magnificent and beautiful!”
The Doctor’s hands came up to the Master’s cheeks and held him close, forehead pressed hard against his best friends. They slip up into his salt and pepper hair and pull on those strands, tugging his head back as he places violent, hungry kisses to his jaw.
“The only thing I am ashamed of is MYSELF! The only thing that embarrases me is the fact that I failed you so horribly for so long! Losing you was the biggest regret of all my lives! I’d die a thousand times in the most horrible ways imagined if only I could go back and keep you by my side throughout it all. Koschei– MY Koschei. I am not running from you, I’m running TO you.”
He pulled back, chest heaving, his expression a mask of guilt and intense pain.
“Please, just see that. See that this is all I want. That I’m TRYING. For you, for us…”
“You’re the only one who can answer THAT question, TOO!” the Master
roars.
Exasperation turns swiftly to fury as the Doctor seizes him bodily, and both aggravates and satisfies his yearning. There it is, that tornado of dangerous, beautiful passion, there it is: his groin hardens and throbs because this is the god at whose altar he worships, this is HIS Doctor, ALL sides of him, completely succumbing to his possession. This is the god, and yet, in the SAME BREATH, his sweet, ordinary, dreaming boy, whom he would protect with his BARE TEETH.
The pain of that grasp on his arms only arouses him further; he gasps at the kisses, the bites, that mark his skin, tears spilling from flushed cheeks, catches the Doctor’s mouth hard and suckles on it until there are marks.
He tackles him and throws his weight on top of him, forces his arms apart and kisses him harder, watering the Doctor’s face with the moisture from his eyes.
“BUT I AM NOT ASHAMED OF YOU. You are, to ME, the
most beautiful fucked up thing that was ever loomed! You
don’t NEED to refine yourself into something more perfect, you
only need STAY. Not only in body, but in mind, in hearts. Just
LOOK AT ME, look at me, I am WANTON with love of you! This
‘trying’: it need only be DAILY, CONSISTENT PRESENCE. You
are my perfect, wounded boy. I would die, I would kill, and
I would most certainly live, for the boy who is already right
here beside me.”
Icarus 