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May. 29th, 2011 10:38 am
[identity profile] electrumicity.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] bifolding
Title: Repairs
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Master/Doctor
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Written while half asleep in bed, on my phone. Surprised that it's vaguely coherent. First DW fic from me.

For as much as the Doctor adores the TARDIS, she tends to act stubborn towards him from time to time. The exact thing she is unamused with is something that can be difficult to determine, so the Doctor simply does his best to keep all of her parts in repair...

...and keep her from any pranks or sabotaging from a certain other Time Lord onboard. It was a simple equation. Take a Master, add boredom, come out with the answer of inevitable disaster. Much to the Doctor's own relief, it didn't seem as if his fellow Time Lord was the reason why some of the parts just weren't quite working the way they were supposed to. A surprise, really, but almost a pleasant one. Considering his attention on the Master's behavior, any lack of news was...well. At least not negative.

The Doctor adjusted his spectacles as he slid underneath the TARDIS' main control build, body now half covered between circuits and wires. He'd always had a bad habit of patching things together with nothing more than chewing gum and the like, but this time, it was calling for more serious fixes.

The TARDIS, lovely girl that she was, let the Doctor do what was needed. She even accepted, albeit reluctantly, the help of the other Time Lord onboard. The Master simply seemed most content to watch at the start, taking in the sight of the Doctor wriggling underneath the console in order to get to the mechanisms he needed to fix.

The Master, however--brilliant mind he had, and all that he could help with--currently didn't care about the machine. The man was more interesting. He climbed off of his chair, leaning just a little under the console.

"Need help, my dear Doctor?"

"Well, if you can pass me my sonic... And that part to your left, and reverse the polarity of..."

Did the Master truly care about helping? No. The Doctor received all of perhaps ten seconds warning before he felt his companion's hands move towards not the tools he had just mentioned, but rather his own trousers.

"H-hey, what do you think you're doing?" he protested, attempting to put on as serious of a face that he could manage in such a situation. The Master said nothing yet, but simply used his own legs to pin the Doctor's down as he unbuttoned and unzipped the fly of the man's suit pants, yanking them down several inches. Still laying flat on the flight room's floor as he was, the Doctor was too easy a prey.

The Master didn't so much even kiss him on the lips. The first place the Time Lord's mouth went towards was the Doctor's stomach, trailing down to his hips and thighs. The Doctor knew this game, knew how he'd play it, but it didn't make it any easier. It didn't make muffling his own pleas and noises any more simple.

He didn't want to ask. Couldn't ask. It wasn't part of the game, not yet. But they always knew. The Master knew how much he could take.

It wasn't until perhaps a good ten minutes of teasing, laps across his inner thighs and hips, that the Master finally gave him what he truly wanted. The Doctor bit down hard on his lips in a futile attempt to muffle his sound as the Master's lips enveloped him, teasing for just a few moments before taking him in completely.

And then, the Doctor decided. He'd play.

No longer were his noises muffled. Rather, every little whimper, gasp, and groan were placed out right there for the Master to hear. It was clearly adding to it all, as he could literally feel the Master's groans in response around his cock, the vibration sending another shot of pleasure through his body.

The more noise he made, the more enthusiastic the Master got. The more he gave himself up, the more that the Master would give back to him. It was difficult as hell for the Doctor to get past his pride, but if he could shove it aside even briefly, the reward was unbelievable.

"A-ah...yes...M...Master," the Doctor panted, hands tangling in short brunet hair. It was difficult not to simply lead the shorter man, guide him up and down himself in just the pace that would bring the most pleasure to him. All that could be done was trust the Master to know what to do--but by now, he did. A couple of moans of "Master", and the man did everything perfect.

The only sounds were gasps, groans, whimpers, and "Master". "Please". "More". Appropriate situation or not, the Doctor could never quite say no. His breath hitched when the Master scraped his teeth lightly over the underside of his cock before taking it fully into his mouth again, tongue swirling and giving every part of it as much attention as could be given.

It was always over too soon, the jerk of his own hips, the fire in his veins, the whiteout of his mind. By the time he always came to, the Master was lazily cleaning him up with his tongue before sliding up and giving him a deep kiss. The Doctor could taste himself, but after this all, he really didn't mind.

The TARDIS wouldn't get fixed for about another day, as the Master now seemed quite intent on bringing his victim to their bedroom.

Things on the TARDIS rarely changed.



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