Date: 2011-12-21 04:45 pm (UTC)
The feel of the Master's nails brought out a sharp hiss from the Doctor, and he returned the bite in kind with a scratch of his own. This was how they were, trading tenderness and nostalgia for pain and vulgarity at a moment's notice, and then back again.

Though his nails bit at the Master's skin, when he leaned down to kiss him again, the kiss was slow, cautious, careful. A contradiction to the blood on his split lip and the sharp chemical smell of the infirmary. With the hand that wasn't on the Master's neck, he moved to undo the buttons on the Master's shirt, slowly sliding one through each eye.

He wanted this. Whatever it was. He wanted it.
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The Doctor

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