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[worstretconever]

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[worstretconever]

[He finally breaks the kiss, but he doesn't pull away from the Doctor - instead, he rests his forehead against his as he catches his breath. His heartbeats pound in his ears, even managing to drown out the drums for once.

He moves in to kiss him again - this time of his own volition, and not because of the mistletoe, or so he thinks.]

[verylast]

[ He should say something, he should --. His hand is the Master's waist, breath mingling with his. He doesn't quite know what to do about this, only is that he wants to keep kissing him no matter what. ]

[worstretconever]

[The Master knows exactly what he wants now - whether or not the Doctor will acquiesce to it is another thing entirely. It's been on his mind ever since they ended up in that closet together, maybe ever since he agreed to move into the TARDIS. Maybe he hates the Doctor, but they've always had this sort of magnetic attraction, one that refuses to ever go away entirely. So why should he deny it?

It's just sex, after all.

Still kissing him, he reaches up to push the Doctor's jacket off his shoulders, sliding his hands under the fabric.]

[verylast]

[ He doesn't stop him.

For one his thoughts are full of the things they used to have, friendship and trust and a bond that could outlive all others. He used to think that was why they always ended up like this, fighting and snarling with rage because they had to. Who else understood them?

So he lets the Master for now, overwhelmed with the touch of him. ]

[worstretconever]

[It's the work of another moment to shed his own jacket - normally he wouldn't just let it fall to the floor like that, but he doesn't care right now. All he wants to do is shed his clothes as quickly as possible, feel bare skin against his. It's a primal, desperate need, more desperate than he really wants to admit to being.

The Doctor's bowtie comes off then, followed by the Master's tie, both thrown somewhere over his shoulder. And he stops everything for a moment then, one arm hooked around the Doctor's waist. They really ought to go somewhere else if they plan on continuing this, he thinks, but he doesn't particularly want to ask. Asking would give the Doctor a chance to think about what he's doing, like it always does, a chance to back out.

Even though he doesn't say anything, it's obvious that the next move is the Doctor's.]

[verylast]

[ His hands settle either side of the Master's neck, still content with just kissing him, mouth open and inviting because it's been so long, so long since he ever felt like this. It's different, they're both the same as though the Doctor can feel energy under his skin every time they kiss. Of course they have to break away to breathe, and he presses his forehead against the Master's and pauses. ]

I ... what are we doing?

[ Blinking slowly. ]

[worstretconever]

What does it look like, Doctor? [He lowers his mouth to the Doctor's to kiss him again. It's briefer this time, but no less intense.]

A better question to ask might be 'what are we going to do?'

[verylast]

[ He wants to. Oh how he wants to. But there's a fracture in the moment now. He thinks of Amy, of how disappointed she would be in him, of how she warned him not to let the Master in. ]

We -.

We can't.

[worstretconever]

No? [He slips a hand between them, rubbing the Doctor through his trousers. He'd been so bloody close - if only he hadn't stopped.

He tries to keep his sudden irritation out of his voice when he speaks again, but doesn't succeed entirely. He'd been enjoying himself for once, right until the Doctor had to go and ruin things again.

Story of his life, really.]

Yes, Doctor, we most certainly can.

[verylast]

And then what? [ Pushing the Master's hand away, placing space between them again.

There's just too much to overlook. ] It's a curse.

[worstretconever]

It always is, isn't it?

[He shrugs, taking a step back.]

But someday you won't have a convenient excuse, Doctor. What will you tell yourself then?

[verylast]

[ He looks flustered for a second, like he's not sure what he should be saying. ]

I'm sorry.

[worstretconever]

[Unimpressed face.]

As usual.

[verylast]

I can't help it.

[worstretconever]

Can't help apologising, or can't help being you? I'm fairly certain the latter isn't true, at least. It doesn't matter, though.

[verylast]

[ Rising, his back to the Master as he moves. ]

We can't even be friends, what makes you think we can be anything more?

[worstretconever]

[He laughs dryly.] I wasn't aware you had to like someone to shag them.

[verylast]

[ The Doctor makes a noise as he walks away. If the Master thinks he can do this without an attachment then he's clearly as mad as he pretends to be. ]