"Let me hear them." The Doctor's voice was barely above a whisper and his eyes wouldn't move high enough to see more than the folded hands in his lap.
The Master was going insane, wasn't he? "First you speak about love, although we both know you have no bloody clue what that even is, and then you suddenly want to hear the drums after claiming they are nothing but insanity for centuries." Madness. A drop of impossible slipping through the ever repeating hell inside his head.
This time the Doctor did look up. Those chocolate coloured orbs were so full of sorrow and regret, it would be spectacular to dim their light and drench them in red. So much red red red red.
"Fuck off, Doctor."
"No. Not anymore."
He should be thrilled with joy. He should bathe in the victory of finally having this idiot listening! But he wasn't, he didn't. It wasn't right. He couldn't let the Doctor tap into his mind. Not that far, not that deep, not anywhere at all. The Master didn't want him to see, didn't want him to feel, to taste, to listen to all the traces Lumin had left there each time they had shared minds. He couldn't let himself accept that she was gone.
And that his recklessness was the reason for that. His his his his! The drums repeated, over and over again. You killed her, killed her, killed her, killed her.
And he was about to do it again. The Master slapped the Doctor's hand away with much more force than necessary. He didn't want to be touched. He shoved the other Time Lord from him. He didn't want him to be close. He fought and struggled and tried to bite, raging like a rabid animal against the Doctor's efforts to calm him down.
For once he didn't want to break him.
"Get off!" he shouted. "Don't touch me!"
"Master, please. Please calm down. I can help. Let me help you."
There was no help.
Du - du - du - du.
There were only the drums. Loud as ever.
Du - du - du - du.
Du - du - du - du.
"Shove your help elsewhere!" He pushed back again, grabbing the Doctor's wrist, just barely holding back on breaking them. He wouldn't stop, he wouldn't manage to keep himself from lashing out. The drums were too angry. There would be another death, it would be his doing. Again again again again!
But he was not dealing with a human here. The Doctor was equal in strength to him. He managed to wrestle the Master down and straddle him, using his whole weight to hold him in place. And when the Master tried to fight him off with his hands, those the Doctor grabbed too and pinned them down, panting as hard as the Master. Succeeding. They were equal. And the Master was weakened, wrecked by the raging chaos in him. And now also the pure, liquid hate that burned through his veins. How dare the Doctor! How dare he constrain him like that!
"Get. Off!" He growled.
"No."
The Master tried again to throw him down, tried to arch upwards, tried to free his hands, but all struggles were in vain. And it made him furious. And desperate. He couldn't let him see.
"Stay out of my head!" The Master exclaimed instead, when he accepted that fighting wouldn't help him. The Doctor would see. He couldn't. He wasn't allowed to see the pain he was fighting down ever since he had brought the lifeless body inside the TARDIS. He wasn't allowed to know what he had done. He wasn't allowed to trample over the last thing he had left, even if it were only psychic remains.
The startled look in the Doctor's eyes made him finally calm a little. "I… wasn't going to just look, idiot. His voice was surprisingly soft."Or to intrude on your and Lucy's connection, if that's your concern."
The Master released a deep breath, suddenly fighting down tears. It didn't even matter. The girl would never return anyway. It was no use to value their former mental connection. But that was the problem, wasn't it? The drums only confirmed the question, relentlessly pounding through him, an eternal punishment.
The Doctor spoke again, his voice breaking through the raging storm of chaos. "And you can't hurt me." It was a fact, not a reassurance. The Doctor's eyes fell down, his voice did too, as he muttered, "Not unless I let you."
And somehow that actually calmed the Master down. He gritted his teeth, but then breathed out, slumping in the tight grip he was caught in. No, he couldn't hurt anyone, trapped as he was right now. He couldn't. And for once in his lifes he felt relief about the fact.
"You can't look," he rasped out. "It's mine. It's all mine."
"Then guide me."
The Doctor leaned closer down, hesitated for just a moment and then planted a soft kiss against the Master's lips. A spark lay within it, a thought, a quick mental reassurance. For a moment the Master wanted nothing more but to shred through the Doctor's barriers and make his mind burn for the audacity of making him feel so helpless and weak, and yet, at the same time he longed for nothing more than for one of his kind to hear the drums. He knew for a while now that they were real, had to be, but learning it from a human was another thing than to learn it from a Time Lord.
And suddenly that one thought was all consuming and he bent upwards as far as he could, catching the Doctor's mouth anew, right as he wanted to leave. He coaxed him into following him back down, ignoring his restrained hands, ignoring everything. As soon as their lips touched the Master opened up and flooded his mind into the Doctor's. The other man was waiting, ready, expecting the intrusion or probably even welcoming it. There was a gasp, from whom no one could tell. At first it was more of a dripping, black ink slowly dissolving in another mind. Then, after the initial shock, it started to feel like he was a being of nothing but smoke, vanishing from his own vessel to fully spread inside another one. And the Doctor did the same. Where the Master felt himself vanishing, there now was the Doctor and vice versa. They became one and both and neither, and were yet separated enough to still tell what belonged to whom.
The Master shielded his thoughts, carefully put them behind doors and locks and bubbles. Whatever suited them right. As he dragged the Doctor's mind deeper and deeper he made sure to blur and censor everything he didn't want him to see or know or feel. There was only the weight of another body on top of him, warm lips moving and their beings, intertwined like they hadn't been since they had been in their first century of life, still children, knowing of nothing, but ever so curious.
The Master absently noticed how different this was, compared to the times he had shared his mind with Lumin. A human couldn't shield themselves like Time Lords could. The Doctor ran no risk of getting lost in another one's mind forever. They shared the same space, they were as one as not many species might ever experience and still… It was not as complete, not as intense. The walls between them still existed, still separated, still shielded. They had control, despite their kiss getting fiercer, despite the Doctor having let go of his wrists and the Master promptly using the opportunity to drag the other one closer by his bum. They sank deeper without ever getting lost, without ever truly merging into a shared mind.
And in the not quite darkness, in the dancing sparks of consciousness, there in the tiny gap between alive and whatever came after, there were the drums, ever repeating, relentlessly tormenting him. The Doctor froze above him, almost retreated. Their contact got less and more at the same time. The spreading stopped and got replaced by probing, searching, focus.
I can hear them.
Yeah.
It didn't need saying. The four beat rhythm resounded through them both with such a strength that there would be no point in denying them any longer. The Doctor lingered there, a waft of fear washing through their connection. But he didn't run.
What are they? It doesn't feel like they even belongs to you.
No shit, Doctor.
Of course they didn't belong there. The schism had shoved them into his head as a child, after all. That was the perfect opposite of belonging there. And whatever they were, they did not like to be observed. Like the punishment of an ancient, wrathful God they roared up, bled through every strand of the two Time Lords, burning, tearing, slicing. The sound intensified the longer the Doctor stayed there. And, eventually, he had no choice but to back off.
The Master guided their minds to the surface, to where the waters of memories did no longer threaten to spill over. Here they could exist and swim, float. Here they could be together without hurting each other, because each harm would befall them both equally.
"You feel sad," the Doctor breathed against his lips. "Doesn't it thrill you to know?"
The Master huffed. "I knew long before already. You just never wanted to believe it."
"Because Lucy's just human. She can't tell if you project."
And there he was wrong, thought the Master. Lumin had definitely been able to tell. The human had been skilled with reading the psychic waves. Not that he had ever told her that. But, for a human, she had been exceptionally capable and also a quick learner. Instinct and too much empathy might have helped with that. But the thought of her just darkened his mood.
"There it is again," mumbled the Doctor. He still literally sat on the Master, but now his eyes had that spark again, that one they always had when he was about to understand something. "You're miffed cause she left."
"None of your business," the Master growled, wrapping his hands around the Doctor's middle to draw him closer down again. He gave him a wicked grin. "I don't need a useless human when I can have you."
The Doctor let out a short, humourless laugh. "The consolation prize?" He tried to struggle free, but without using his full strength. "I've been drunk. Drunk and stupid and maybe a little jealous."
"You still meant it." The Master let his grip lose and instead cupped the Doctor's face, stroking his thumb over light stubble. "Say it again."
"No!" He shot backwards. "Forget I ever said it."
"Never."
The Doctor whimpered. "Please?"
"But then you start running again." The Master trailed a finger over the other man's chest, lightly scratching the buttons of the dress shirt. "Then I can't have you so close anymore. Then you won't allow me to kiss you again." His finger wandered lower, stopped just above the button of the pants, looking up to the Doctor's widened eyes. "And do much more to you."
"Drunk," repeated the Doctor, gently guiding the hand away from him, taking it. "Both of us."
The Master shrugged. "It makes you do all the things you wouldn't dare to if you were sober. The things you want."
"Why would you want… me? I fought you for centuries, I foiled all of your plans."
"Not all of them"
"The ones I was present for."
Forever and ever they had fought and played and hunted. A span that outran most species' lifetimes. And still they had ended up here. Together.
The Master chuckled and started to draw small circles against the Doctor's hip bone with his free hand. Last night he had given in to primal want. Their society had taught them to ignore such urges, to completely shut them down so that nothing could ever overtake their rational thinking.
Not even alcohol.
One had given in on his own free will. As had the other.
The Doctor's breath got a tiny bit heavier, his lids fell ever so slightly. Three little words that had changed the world. Their world. But what did they mean? What was the new reality?
Just another game?
"No one but you is my equal." The Master's answer came late. His fingers crawled further, tugging the shirt free so they could roam on skin. Feel the shiver. "You're the only one who can compete." He savoured this moment. It was rare for the Doctor to be at a loss for words. And it wasn't only because he fought to keep his body's reactions at bay. The Master wouldn't let him. "So yes, how could I not want you?"
The Doctor let out a shuddering breath. It would be easy to remove the wandering fingers from his skin, but for some reason he didn't. Maybe it was hope. "You're just toying with me again. If I give in, you'll use it against me."
"Mhm… that's a valid concern." There was no denying it. "No games, this time though." His gaze burned into the Doctor's, his mind shoved reassurance into him. "I might hunt you again, one day, I might try to corner and trap and destroy you just tomorrow." Oh how he couldn't keep his own breath from hitching. The Doctor, sitting on top of him, squirming with shut eyes, fighting himself. The Master removed his hands from under the cloth, only to lay them against the other man's bum and shove him closer, farther up. He wanted to feel him. "But not today. Not now."
And without further warning he grabbed the Doctor and flipped them both. The surprised yelp only made him giggle. The Master gave no chance of escape. He promptly straddled the Doctor, almost the same position as they had held before, only reversed. And with the minor difference that he made sure their mid sections were touching when he bent down to devour the Doctor's mouth.
Oh, it was a struggle to keep his body from reacting too much. The hesitation in the way the Doctor moved, half responded, half trying to get away. How his breath quivered, his legs twitched, his hands digging into the Master's shirt sleeve. Their minds poured out once again, shallow enough to reveal nothing of importance, but present enough to deliver all those delicious emotions, like…
Panic
The Master bit down on the Doctor's lip, tasting blood. And the emotion got stronger. But why did the Doctor not fight if this scared him? Why didn't he struggle if they were equal in strength anyway? It made no sense. And he didn't want to stop. It was too good of a distraction from the drums. And they had not calmed one bit. It was almost the opposite. Did they get…
"Hnggg!" The Doctor shoved against him, breaking the kiss. "Stop! Stop, please. It's too loud." He panted, breath quivering, but not from arousal.
He still heard them.
All this time and all it would have needed to confirm the truth about the drums was a mental connection with another Time Lord. And a weak one at that. What they had just shared hadn't been more than a fleeting touch. The Master glared at the man below him, suppressing the anger that threatened to bubble up. No, he would not give him that. But he would give him something else to taste. The Doctor was still shaking, wide eyed and confused. But it wasn't enough. The Master leaned down, grabbed the Doctor's head with both hands and pressed their foreheads together. And this time he made no effort to keep the drums in the background like he always did. This time he embraced them with their full fury and forced them into the Doctor's mind through their connection.
"Listen," he demanded. "Listen. They are here, every second of my life, every beating of my hearts."
The Doctor gritted his teeth and twitched. A whimper crawled out from his lips. He turned his head, tried to struggle free, but the Master wouldn't let him. He kept the contact, kept the upper hand by nothing more than the small advantage of being used to the torment.
"Master, stop!" His pleading was music. "Please, pl-s, take them… Uhhhhh, take away!" His whimpering turned into pathetic sobs. A lonely tear made its way down his cheek. How long might it take to break him, the Master wondered. How long until he would go insane? Would his head explode? Would his mind burn out like a candle flame?
The last thought was what made the Master stop, in the end. He snapped his hands away and just sat there, staring at the tears and the pain-contorted face below him. A knot formed in his guts. Was that… shame? Was this how it felt?
It probably didn't matter. The only thing that did was that he got away from here. Away from the Doctor, before he had another opportunity to hurt him or do much worse. All this control he loved so dearly, but right now it was gone, slipped through his blood soaked hands and through all the cracks of his own sanity.
The Master fled.
He left the Doctor without another word and ran. A part of him wanted to grab the Vortex Manipulator right there and then to vanish from the TARDIS and all the things that made him weak.
He ended up somewhere else. That night he visited the room again. The one he had time locked, the one with the small forest inside. He stumbled over roots and almost slipped on a wet rock until he came to a halt. In all of time and space there probably was nothing more twisted than to seek solace in a dead body.
The Master sank down in the grass, curling himself up. He didn't want to see or hear anything anymore. For a while he simply wanted to stop existing. Resting.
It was only here that the drums, finally, got quieter again.