Title: The Devils Language Ain't Enough
Summary: "Well, well, well Doctor. Aren't we the dominant one?"
A/N: This drabble is completely unfinished. It will get more smutty, honest.
Short fingernails grabbed creased shirt lapels and the two bodies collided with one another, black suit on brown suit. Old bronze eyes, the colour of Gallifrey’s night skies, flickered up to meet a satisfied smile as the fingers released the brown material. They danced down the jacket and disappeared into one of the inside pockets of the suit.
Whilst his partner's hands were occupied in wrapping around the screwdriver, the other man grew bold. He surged forward and pushed his lover against the console, panting into the smooth curve of neck peeking out of the crisp, white shirt. He growled into the skin in an attempt to insert some authority but he was interrupted by a small snort which held a degree of menace.
“Well, well, well Doctor. Aren’t we the dominant one?”
The reply was short, snarled through gritted teeth between pants of breath.
Another chuckle cut through the air of silence that was enveloping the two Time Lords as the Master produced his laser screwdriver, seemingly from nowhere, letting the cool metal slip between his long fingers. The Doctor withdrew his face from the smooth expanse of pale skin, his eyes slid to focus on hazel twins, tainted with knowledge and time.
“What?” The Master asked, his gaze never leaving the Doctor’s.
“I’m just admiring the view.”
The Master opened his mouth and closed it again, the off-hand comment dying on his lips as the other Time Lord buried his head back into the crook of his neck. The motion seemed simple and innocent but the thick brown strands that rubbed against the light dusting of stubble on the Master’s jaw made the man cry out in pleasure.