Prompt : Velvet

There is something to be said for a little decadence. The Master himself had always been fond of luxury, of details and filigree and quality.

But why he had come into his room to find his sheets replaced with silk and his comforter replaced with velvet was of serious question.

He blinked once, not entirely sure what to make of the situation. Warning flags went up in his mind, and he approached the room cautiously. There wasn’t much else wrong, admittedly. The night table had a set of candles, replacing his usual lamp that rested there. They were lit – and probably scented: apple spice, if his nose did not deceive him – and… something else that looked remarkably like a fancy bottle of lotion with a funny shape, a lavender label, and something about “for lovers”.

The door opens behind him and he turns to get an eyeful of primped-up Doctor. His hair was slicked back so that the curls teased at the nape of his neck, his eyes alit with something caught between mischievous and hopeful. He had replaced his usual green Victorian coat with… a red velvet one of a near identical cut.

The Master blinks. Then his brow furrows and, in his American drawl, he scoffs. “Oh, what, so you made a dress out of sheets? Are you Cinderella, now?”

The Doctor shuffled his feet, faking shyness while his eyes glittered happily. “The sheets are silk,” he corrects the Master.

“So are your long underwear,” he retorts, trying not to think very hard on what ammo he’s using to throw back at the mild-natured and really too-damn-smug man in front of him.

Those summery blue eyes blinked once. His grin pulled widely and he stepped a little closer. “Won’t know until you look,” he puts out hopefully.

The Master rolls his eyes, putting his hands on the Doctor’s waist. “You could have just asked…”

“I thought you’d be able to take the hint, when I put on the jacket,” his lower lip presses out a little, and the pout works its magic. The Master curses this manipulative bastard and tries not to think about how lovely it would be to run his cheek against the Doctor’s sleeve for the rest of the night.

Thank you, but he has no intentions of looking like a pining, clingy housecat tonight.

“You could have whispered it sweetly in my ear when we woke up, at least. Rather than leaving me with—” he glances behind him, making sure he read right, “—strawberry-flavored lubrication on my table.”

“Oh, how silly of me,” says the Doctor. He tilts his face up and kisses the Master’s chin in that sweet way he has when he wants something. His hands slip under the Master’s jacket. “I shall make sure I bring out the chocolate, next time.”

The Master rolled his eyes, but obliged. A little velvet never hurt anyone, after all.