fic: Thicker than Water
Nov. 15th, 2007 01:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sistercarrionTitle: Thicker Than Water
Author:
sistercarrion *meep*Characters: Simm!Master/Tenth Doctor
Rating: Pretty much 18+ throughout for language, violence and sex stuff
Warnings: Righty.. Bloodplay, Knifeplay, BDSM, Twistedness, Strong physical violence/beating, aforementioned sex-related activites. It's quite dark at points too. Please heed warnings if you're prone to triggers! Also it does get a bit mushy and kinda romantic (if you squint) at points, sorry about that ;) It's consensual, if not always completely sane and safe.
Spoilerage: set post LOTTL in a slight potential AU where the Master is brought back to life by the Doctor..
Summary: When the Master is back from the dead, blood is always shed. The Master always gets what he needs.
Notes: This is my very very first ever fanfic, and I'm very nervous about putting this out there. Apologies in advance if it is full of fail. Constructive criticism is good. Comments much appreciated. Help, and assistance for potential future writing is more than welcomed. I don't know the protocol for asking, so apologies if this is a bit of the wrong way to go about it. Also this has been a very long time in writing, as I was quite nervous about it. Hence there are quite a few little concepts in there that may have since been covered by other writers, sorry to go over old ground if that is the case.
There was a moment in this that was just begging to be written. If you have problems imagining the Doctor's tone in this, then may I point you in the direction of this lovely mash-up of an audioclip, courtesy of
sam42With many thanks to my lovely beta
amyrossand additional support from calmllamaand ikklerubyThicker than Water
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Love Like Blood
"We must play our lives like soldiers in the field
But life is short i'm running faster all the time
Strength and beauty destined to decay
So cut the rose in full bloom
'til the fearless come and the act is done
A love like blood, a love like blood
Everyday through all frustration and despair
Love and hate fight with burning hearts
'til legends live and man is god again
(and self-preservation rules the day no more)
We must dream of promised lands and fields
That never fade in season
As we move towards no end we learn to die
Red tears are shed on grey"
~Killing Joke
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The maddened screams, the manic peals of laughter or the wracking sobs. The Doctor didn't know which was worse. It had been days now (Weeks? Months? In whose world were they counting out the endless turmoil of time now?), and no let up.
He'd tried ignoring it, going on jollies across galaxies, pointless whims just to pass the time. So to speak. Anything to avoid having to face that. He'd asked the TARDIS to change around the rooms so that his visitor's room was the furthest from the control room, but she was either ignoring the request, ensuring he heard everything, or his hearing was sharper this time around. Or maybe he was aware that the Doctor was listening after all, and making himself louder.
The Doctor shook his head, raked his fingers tight through his hair, twisting and pulling it into wild shapes until it hurt, trying to puzzle it out. He laid his head against the familiar and at once comforting TARDIS controls, welcoming the soothing thrum of the console beneath his forehead. He sank down until he was lying on the grille floor, curled protectively around the control column, and felt tears prickling at his eyes. He lay there and let them come. He wept for that long-lost innocence, for all those for whom the Vortex meant madness, for not stopping him sooner … no, correction. For not saving him sooner. For worlds lost from the reaches of time, but never forgotten.
His tears fell like rain, dripped through the grille, and into the TARDIS. She understood and she listened. For the sake of her Doctor.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
The Doctor awoke, uncomfortable, with the pattern of the floor still imprinted upon his face. He stretched, shook himself and set about finding a cuppa. He settled into his favourite armchair, and buried himself into the well worn wall of cushions at his back. He rubbed his eyes, then replaced his glasses. Then it hit him like a ten ton juggernaut. It was quiet, too quiet. Just the background noise of the TARDIS disturbed the silence, whirring and pulsing through the Vortex. Where was he, and why was he silent??
Instantly alarmed, the Doctor leapt to his feet, scattering cushions and tea things en route to the console. Pressing buttons and pulling a screen into his view, he punched up the code that gave him the familiar view into his room. What was he up to? He squinted into the screen, trying to make out the fuzzy picture. Put on his glasses, took them off, put them back on again. He smacked the screen hard, then when that didn't work gave the relevant buttons a wake-up with a handy wrench. Hmm, couldn't quite see on the green and white of the bleached-out screen. Damn, he'd have to go down there himself. Damn.
It took him a while to reach the room. It was sometime since he'd passed down these corridors, although all provisions had been made for their 'visitor'. Not that he had used anything. The Doctor had made a visit last when he had to remove the rotting food from the room. It had made him dry heave all the way to the disposal area, he remembered with an involuntary shudder.
He reached the door finally. It just looked like the most unimposing door one could imagine, Just a door. Just. A. Door. So why did his hearts beat so fast he could hear the rush in his ears? Whisper of a thought … had he heard the drums? He took off his glasses, placed them slowly into his jacket pocket. He tugged on his hair, and pulled at his earlobe until it could be delayed no longer. He had to face whatever lay behind that door. He sighed with a rush of air, and opened the door.
The room was larger than he remembered. Had the TARDIS been remodelling in his absence? Never mind.
He looked around cautiously. His eyes took in that the wall hangings now lay in tatters, shreds of vermillion and gold snaking the marble floor. He saw the mirror that lay shattered (Why was there a mirror in here? He inwardly cursed himself for leaving one within reach), shards of painful looking glass jagged and pointing at broken angles. He noted with alarm that some of them were pointed with what could only be blood, and as he looked across to the wall to his left he gasped. There were words on that wall, some gauged, some scratched, some daubed. He touched the wall, felt the edges of the words there. So many words and phrases, repeated in so many tongues. Fire, ice and rage. The storm in the heart of the Sun. Always the storm. Burning, burning, burning, the drums the drums, and mercy mercy mercy.
A cracked, small and sore-sounding voice broke the Doctors' contemplations..
"It was always you, you do know that? Always going to be for you, for us. Together we could have ruled. A beautifully imagined new Time Lord empire. Why couldn't you see that?"
"But I did. And it could not be" replied the Doctor gently but firmly.
He walked over to the bed, a contraption of the strongest material the TARDIS could generate. Its legs stretched from floor to ceiling and bolted at both ends. In this way it looked like a curious combination of cage and four-poster, which after all suited its' purpose perfectly. The TARDIS had created something beautiful out of her brief for a secure room. How like her. The Doctor stroked one of the posts, relishing its' strength. The TARDIS never failed to astound him. Such elegance, even here … this cell, for want of a better term. Organic and mechanic all in one, just how her Doctor liked it. A chain looped from one of the posts trailed down the side of the bed, pooled in heavy coils against the marble floor and reached under the bed. The Doctor crouched down, tugging gently at the chain.
"Are you coming out of there, then?"
The Master grumbled something noncommittally. The Doctor tugged harder, and with a bite to his tone that gave command, said:
"I suggest now might be a good idea."
The Master crawled out from under the bed, and looked up sheepishly at the Doctor. He settled across from the Doctor sitting on the cold marble next to the bed.
"I do apologise, my dear Doctor, for not being properly attired for the occasion, but as you did not believe me when I said I wasn't hiding anything, I can't do much about it" He gestured to include his whole body, clad as he was in just boxer shorts and the collar that hung around his neck.
The Doctor shrugged. "Are you too cold?"
"No, I'm just dandy sitting here in my underpants, thanks."
"Sarcasm won't get you anywhere fast." The Doctor glowered at the Master.
"Well, what do you expect? Gratitude?" The Master grumbled.
"It would be nice. It'd make a good change of pace for a start." The Doctor stood up and turned his head away, didn't want the Master to realise just how nerve-shattering this past while had been on the one that had had to listen. He shuddered involuntarily at the memory of the screaming. He quickly squeezed his eyes tight shut, rubbed away the tears that were threatening before the Master had time to see.
"Yes, well, I haven't, erm, been myself recently." The Master barely whispered the last few words. He crawled back under the bed, pulling the loose loops of the chain with him.
"Talk to me."
"Shan't"
"I can make it easier, y'know?" The Doctor bent down, and peered into the gloom under the bed
"Oh please. It's never going to be ok again if I have to live in this perpetual half-life, barely existing, a fucking pet for you to assauge your guilt against." The Master was spitting out the words now. The Doctor could hear the venom lashing through the space between them. "I won, I WON, damn it, and you had to go meddling, didn't you? Permanently meddling, you can't stand that I can't be fixed, can you Doctor? Does it make your soul itch? Such a healing, bounteous, sanctimonious Doctor. Yet it's strange that you should choose to bring my good self back isn't it? The 'Lonely God' indeed. You just can't help yourself, can you? Once that aberration of yours and that accursed Saint Martha had fucked off, leaving you alone once more, you just couldn't stand it. You're scared of what you're capable of aren't you? Scared and always running, little boy. Why don't you just embrace it? It's so easy to do. There's such beauty to be had in genocide. But then you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"
The Doctor held his head in his hands, wringing huge clumps of hair between his fingers.
"Stop, just stop." Please be quiet, please just be still, please just…
"OK, but riddle me this dear Doctor. Exactly when can I stop, when you can steal my death away from me? When can I get respite from the drumming, the constant drumming, over and over and over again? It never truly stopped, did you know that? Even though you brought me back, it never faltered, just carried on from where it left off"
"For fucks' sake, just SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP! I've had it up to here with your nonsense. I've had enough, enough! Damnit!" The Doctors' voice cracked with emotion as he spoke. He was at breaking point, and his captive 'friend' knew all the right buttons to press, always did. He stood up swiftly, Converse squeaking on the marble as he strode away from the bed, towards the furthest corner of the room. He slammed his fist into the wall, hard, which made a sickening crunch as it landed. Shit that hurt. Shit shit shit. There was an instant flush of shame and embarrasment that he had lost control so violently in front of him, and he turned his body away from having to face the Master
The Master crawled back out from under the bed, his curiosity piqued by this apparent chink in the armour of his captor. He sat cross-legged in the centre of the room, his fingers pressed together like a steeple, and his chin rested upon them. In short, he looked more cocky than a man in his underwear, and with a hefty chain snaking from his neck had any right to look.
He spoke, softly at first:
"Y'know, there could be a bit of a temporary solution presenting itself right about now, my dear Doctor. This new form of yours isn't entirely unattractive, despite how ruffled, dishevelled, and, well, gangly you try to make it look. Always running about the place. Tsk. How careless. Well the girls seem to love it anyway. And some of the boys too, if I recall correctly. Your little 'wrongness' for a start … now he had some promise there … well, before he started to get so smelly and dirty that is. Pooh, what a stinky Captain" The Master quirked his eyebrow ceilingwards mockingly, and made a play of waving his hand in front of his nose.
The Doctor interrupted, face still turned toward the wall, nursing his hand and almost growling at the Master as he said "Get on with it, you better have a point here. I'm rapidly losing my patience with all your bullshit. I'm quickly remembering why I didn't come visit more often."
"But I thought that was more to do with, well, this," The Master swept his arms dramatically to take in the destroyed tapestries, and general disarray of the room. "Or maybe it was just my agony you were avoiding? Hmm? Imagine that ... the valiant Doctor avoiding the consequences of his actions. Running away. Well that wouldn't be the first time, would it? Theta?"
"Your point?" Another growl. The Doctor crossed the room, in less strides than it should have really taken, scooping up several loops of chain from the stone and looping them around his pain-free hand. He yanked hard on the chain, making the Master forcibly move position and lose composure albeit for a brief moment.
"Ahh yes, now where was I?" The Master finally conceded "A temporary solution. And I think you've just admirably proved that it could just work. Listen."
The Master yanked hard on the chain that fell from the collar on his neck, that linked him to the hand of the other Time Lord who was standing above him. Yanked hard enough to make the Doctor stumble momentarily, hard enough to make the Doctor fall on his knees. The Master used the brief window of opportunity, and grabbed hold of the Doctor by his temples, his hands clamped firmly. The Doctor struggled beneath the touch..
"No, no no NO!" I need you, but not like this, please…
"Hush now, you'll like this Doctor, I promise"
"Get off me! Stop it!"
"In a moment. Now hush up"
Suddenly, the Doctor's senses were rushed by an over-whelming torrent of feeling. Oh Gods, how he'd missed the touch of another of his kind. There was the thudding, the drums of which the Master spoke, and oh, what a torment, to have this constantly, a call to battle, an insistence upon the death of another. So loud, so so loud. But what was this beneath?
"Shush, Doctor" and the words were spoken, but only just.. then thoughts flooded the mind of the Doctor, causing him to gasp with the speed of it.
painandpainandpainandneedyouneedyouneedyouneedthisneedthispleasemercymercymercy
Then it slowed until the Doctor could get his bearings. He settled now, sat opposite the Master. He tentatively reached up with his own hands, wincing as the bruised knuckles of his right hand complained. He touched the Master with fingertips, whilst still holding onto the chain. He didn't trust the Master that much, but Rassilon, this felt so good. The loop was complete. It felt at once so completely alien, and, ooh, so like home, it had been so long since another of his kind … so so long.
The feelings from the Master had now eased, although chaos still reigned in the splintered mind, and the Doctor could feel it lurking. Careful careful careful, don't let him get anywhere he shouldn't.
The Doctor felt the words reaching to the Master from his own mind. Tendrils, living, spinning Tell me, quickly. This may not last long
A chuckle beneath the Doctors fingers.
From him: Scared much? Thought this was the best way to explain.
Then a rush of images and sensation from the Master to the Doctor..
...and me on my knees..and you beating me..and blood.. and agony.. and ecstasy..and teeth and metal and sharp things..and need the pain need the pain need the pain, the drums demand their sacrifice..Doctor, oh Theta, will you grant me this one platitude? Wash away the pain with my blood. Blood on marble. Pretty pretty pretty...
The Doctor gasped audibly. He hadn't been expecting this. The rush continued, unabated:
And you, I feel your need too. The hunger. You long for the destruction too, the power, the dominion, the control. Your all too human stubborness doesn't allow that to shine through too often. You spend too much time amongst your apes. But I see the desire there, glistening like a precious jewel at the back of your mind. And why not take it out here, on this level ground. Where it's ssssafe … (Still the hint of a hiss there, the Doctor inwardly noted and grinned) ... on me me me needneedneed …
The Doctor shifted, focused upon letting the other understand that there were boundaries, and he wasn't going to let go of these:
Koschei? He sent the thought strong and true, an order, not a name. A dozen monikers encompassed by the one No free rein. Understood? My rules. My terms. One time only.
An answer, quick as lightening into the Doctors mind:
We both need this. If I'm to stay here for the forseeable. Otherwise end this now.
I'm not letting you loose, you're still staying here.
Yes, well..while I'm here, it seems stupid not to make the most of an awkward situation. The drums demand their medicine, my Doctor.
Then more images, so many images. The Doctor squeezed his eyes shut, until his sight bled red. It suited the images the other was sending, but oh, so much pain here. The Master needed this, that much was clear. The Doctor could feel the high keen of pain radiating from the other Time Lord, his old friend. They both shut down the contact sharply, abruptly, each as keenly aware of the vulnerability it caused, of any deeper truths they didn't want the other to know, and were cautious about sharing.They opened their eyes slowly, and just stared at each other for the longest time.
The Doctor broke the silence first."You really want this?" His face had grown so serious, his eyes darkened. Time slowed in deference, and eternity was listening. Or so it seemed to the Doctor.
"Well, I've apparently got nothing else on my schedule today, so yes, it would pass the time."
"You can stop that right now if you want this from me."
"I do, actually" The Master bowed his head down, looked studiously at the floor "Want this, that is.". His voice dropped to barely a whisper.
"It helps, you know, the blood, the pain, it appeases them. It makes things bearable, or so I've found, and without much of a way to get it out of my system, as it were, in the good times ..." He looked up at this point and raised his eyebrow, a hint of a lop-sided grin now threatening.
"Ahem, yes well, since that avenue is currently - unavailable, shall we say - then I've had to find more, erm, insular pursuits."
"Shut up." The Doctor interrupted, and stood up abruptly "My rules, remember. Or nothing." He stared down at the Master, whose head was once again bowed.
"Nothing. I'll just leave you here to rot. Imagine that. No audience, just these walls. So play along, there's a good boy, and we'll both be just jolly." The Doctor grinned an enormous grin of teeth and laughter, and ruffled the Masters' hair playfully.
"Right then, to work."
He skipped past the Master sitting on the floor, and flounced out of the room, slamming it behind him, as he shouted
"Be right back. Don't go anywhere." The Master could hear the giggle that heralded the Doctor leaving the room, and damnit, was he singing too? The Master shook his head and leant it on his knees.
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The Master had drifted into a restless sleep of fevered dreams, lying on the bed, waiting for the Doctor to return. He'd been waiting for too long for the Doctor to come back, and exhaustion had demanded a rest of sorts. So he was completely caught off guard when he was woken roughly by a sharp tug to his chain and collar, and blackness in his sight. He reached up and touched his face, felt a heavy leather blindfold covering his eyes. Although there was pressure, there was also comfort. A padded blindfold. How very like the Doctor. How precious.
"And where did you find this little gem then, Doctor? I wouldn't have had you pegged as the type."
"Oh, y'know, here and there. You pick these things up" The Master could hear the smile in the Doctors voice.
"I bet you do, what with that little perverted freak being on board. Did he leave you some presents, eh, Doctor dear?"
"Stop it. Don't push me. You won't get any more from me by doing so. I'll just leave you alone again. And you wouldn't want that now, would you?" The Doctor was sounding dangerous now, and the Master loved him for it.
The Doctor continued, still in that low, crawling, persistent voice that was doing gorgeous things with the Masters' nervous system. "Alone, without a baying crowd. No one to listen. No one to care. The only one. Nobody else ..." His voice trailed off, as the threat hung between them.
"Are you talking about my punishment now Doctor, or your own?" There was no cheek to the Masters' tone any more. It was an honest question for once, spoken quietly and with respect. It obviously startled the Doctor with its directness, as the question received a brutal reply ...
"Both, I guess."
And fuck, if that didn't bring tears to the Masters' eyes. Damn him. Damn. He was so thankful for the blindfold now. He wouldn't have wanted to look into those sad, timeless, drowning, puppy eyes right now. And he wouldn't have appreciated being made to cry like a pitiful child whilst doing so. Instead, he felt the fur around the edge of the blindfold grow wet. Shit. What had the Doctor done to him? He made himself feel sick right about now. What the fuck was wrong with him? He shook his head and bowed it into his chest.
"Anyway, enough of this. Stand."
The Doctor caught the Master off guard, and he took a while to respond. Not quick enough apparently, as he felt himself being hauled to his feet by the collar. He growled appreciatively, as his limbs scrabbled for balance. This new body of the Doctor's was stronger than it looked.
"Quiet."
"But you can't expect me not to react. Not to treatment like that. So delicious, Doctor."
"Shush." The Master suddenly felt something push past his teeth, and felt the *click* of something locked into place before he had time to push it out with his tongue. Indeed now he tested it, he found that his tongue seemed to be pinned to the bottom of his mouth. Shit. His throat convulsed in panic before he had time to still it, and he tried to spit out the gag. He found himself clawing at his face in frustration, but the solid strip of leather across his mouth wasn't budging.
"Gnngghh!"
"I know, you hate me. But (and here the Master could feel the Doctor whispering at his ear, faintest of breaths) you, you wanted this, don't forget."
The Master felt himself relax. He leaned into the Doctors' shoulder and nodded.
"After all, I couldn't leave you in charge of your strongest weapon now, could I?" And damnit, he was sounding cheery again. He was fucking loving this.
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Seeing the Master like this twisted something very deep inside the Doctor. He found his hearts beating just a little faster than he would have liked, and he felt a flush rise from his chest onto his face. He took off his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He folded the jacket neatly, and walked across the room slowly, making sure his footfalls were audible to the Master. He placed his jacket across the back of a chair, and walked back across to the Master, just as steadily.
He took a deep breath, and let it go slowly. He could feel the darkness just bubbling under the surface, the part of him he tried to keep from the humans he had gathered around him. He knew without them, he could find it hard to stop, that sometimes he just wondered what it felt like to wipe out a civilization for the fun of it.
And then he remembered Gallifrey. He'd done what needed to be done, and now this was what was needed too. He was really going to do this. This, to the only one who could understand, to the only one who understood the yearning for oblivion that swam through both their minds ...
Enough with the deep thought. He snapped himself out of his reverie. In one speedy fluid movement he unlocked the chain from both the post and the Master's collar. He wrapped it around the Masters' wrists, and threw the other end up in the air, where it looped around one of the beams high above them, and swung down.
He then locked the end to the chain itself to secure it. He pulled on it to test it, and was rewarded by the chain lifting the Masters' arms high in the air. He pulled roughly on the chain, and its' strong links pulled the Masters' arms even higher. He kept on until the Master was struggling on tip toes, and then secured the chain again. He stepped back to admire the view. By Rassilon, the Master looked magnificent right now, all muscles taut under his skin, vulnerable and struggling. He wished the Master could realise just how beautiful he looked in submission. Ahh, wait a minute. He clicked his fingers loudly, and couldn't stop a laugh escaping as the Master swung round trying to gauge where the Doctor now stood.
"Nnghh..gru bassard."
"Ha, now less of that. I was about to give you a present."
And the Doctor scrambled onto the bed and stood up so that he was slightly above from the Master. He grabbed hold of the Masters' close cropped hair, and twisted him round so that he had hold of his forehead.
"See."
And he sent the Master a technicolour vision of what he looked like, to be met with an audible groan, and oh yes, was that a hard on he could see?
He abruptly shut down the link, and jumped back onto the floor.
"I don't think we need those anymore, do we?"
And he whipped off the Masters' underwear, to expose him. It had been an age and in different forms since he'd last had this particular viewing pleasure, and it didn't disappoint. The Doctor watched him shiver and couldn't help but smile. The vulnerability of it all was obviously working for him. Who would've thought it?
And now for another present. A little sweetener to make the medicine go down as it were. He giggled at his own joke as he sank to his knees.
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The Master was in bliss. The singing ache from his muscles, struggling to gain his body some reprieve, was fighting hard with the drums for dominance, and the pain was winning. THIS was one of his more successful plans, he thought as the chain bit into wrists mercilessly. Oh yesss. He was suddenly shaken out of his thoughts by a wet mouth at his cock. Oh gods that felt good, too good. Oooh ... he was going to come if the Doctor carried on like that, and strange as it may seem he didn't want that just yet. He struggled to back off, whilst hips seemed to betray him by bucking into that gorgeously warm and wet working mouth. The Doctor always did seem to have strange talents. Then, as soon as the Master was relaxing into the rhythm, he felt cold air hit him as the Doctor stopped his oral ministrations, and took away that lovely welcoming mouth. He growled into the gag in frustration. He swung around on the chain, his body searching out the contact he craved ...
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The Doctor walked over and rummaged through his jacket pockets until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out his glasses and screwdriver. He put his glasses on, tugged at his earlobe, pulled at his hair and adjusted his glasses again. Right. He couldn't delay this any longer. He walked back over to where the Master was hanging. He stroked the Masters' back with one hand, and was rewarded by a groan from deep in the Masters' throat. He trailed the screwdriver down between his shoulder blades, following the path that his hand had taken. He reached up to whisper at his ear.
"One last chance to back out. Nod if you still want this, want the blood too." The Master nodded his head as vigorously as his bonds would allow, and the chains rattled.
"OK." The Doctor changed a setting on the sonic, and trailed it with a flourish, barely touching, right across the Masters' chest. The burning ice that it emitted caused the Master to jump back.
"Don't move. Keep as still as you can."
The Doctor flicked the sonic back over into an x shape across the Masters' chest. He repeated the moves quickly several times in succession, watching the skin raise in red stripes. First his chest, then his back, then his chest, then his back. He stopped only when he started to see goose pimples rise, and the skin tremble on the Masters' chest. He rubbed his hands all over the expanse of skin, and the Master sagged in his chains. The Doctor bent down to rummage in the kitbag he'd brought back to the room with him. He pulled out a sticklike wand, that was similar in appearance to the tool that humans liked to refer to as a violet wand. In fact this particular tool had had its' origins in the healing trade on Anadrone, he remembered fondly. Anyway, useful to have right now, he knew he'd kept ahold of it for a reason. He flicked it on and the tool crackled. Soon the tip was glowing white hot. This would hurt. Good for what the Master needed right now.
He flipped the Master round. He drew the tool down the middle of the Masters' torso, leaving a trail of burnt chest hair and scorched flesh behind it. He drew the tool in circles around the Masters' nipples, circling ever inward. The Master twisted in the chains, and shook his head vigorously.
"Quiet. Stay still. What are you afraid of? This?"
And the Doctor quickly and very briefly touched the tip to the Masters nipples, left then right. The tool crackled and sparked. It glowed orange, indicating the high pain level the 'patient' was experiencing. He repeated the motion, pressing harder this time. The Master groaned deep. Oh yes, this was working a treat. He carried on down the Masters' body, twisting the tool down so that it touched both the insides of his thighs. He could feel the anticipation radiating from the other, even before the wand changed to shining white. He stopped just short of the Masters' balls, and moved the tool away from the flesh. The Master was shaking, and the Doctor noted with a grin that there was drool forming at the edges of the leather strip that made up the outside of the gag.
Acting fast, the Doctor switched off the tool, and replaced it from the bag with a wicked-looking long stick. It shone and glinted, catching the light with its metallic sheen. He whipped it across the backs of the Masters' legs with no warning, working upwards from the backs of his knees, all up the thighs, to the fleshy part of the arse and back down again. He knew that must sting and slice on the receiving end. Sure enough, long thin strings of welts started to spring up, some of them tinged with spots of blood. As soon as the Master visibly relaxed again, the Doctor recommenced, repeatedly hitting over the previous marks. This time he continued up onto the upper half of his back, being careful to avoid major organs, but not sparing any of the effort.
Blood was now welling in a lot of the slices, and some were starting to spill over. The Doctor paused for a moment, and stepped back from his handiwork. He was panting hard from the exertion, beads of sweat starting to drip into his eyes, and as he looked down at his hands he noticed specks of blood on them. His blood. Before his brain could fully process that information, he dipped his head and licked it off his hand. He felt feral, wild, and anyone watching would've seen that his pupils had now drowned his irises, like great pools of blackness. A thought shot into his head. Just what had the Master made him into here? He answered his own question just as quickly. This was there all along, had just needed the Master to ignite it, like the most dangerous of touch-papers. He exhaled long and slow, his head bowed, and he pulled at his hair thoughtfully. He looked back up at the Master, who was sagged against his chains, his head lolled to one side. By the rising of his chest, the Doctor could see he was breathing hard.
The Doctor smoothly dipped his head down and started to methodically lick the Masters' wounds, from the back of the knees, slowly up until he reached the nape of his neck, and along the edge of the collar. He needed to taste him, to be near him. He could feel the artron energy dancing on his tongue, and that very distinct taste of Timelord blood. Hungry for more, he lapped at the wounds like an animal, faithfully retrieving every drop. When he reached the Masters' neck, he reached up with his hands and unlocked the gag. He noted with satisfaction that the bit that had been inside the Masters' mouth was littered with bite marks galore. So he had needed it to bite down on, he was glad he'd thought of it, a nice addition.
He took it away from the Masters' mouth and dropped it to the floor, strings of saliva snapping and drool down the Masters' chin. The Doctor lapped at the saliva, and suddenly it turned into a deep, consuming kiss. His. All his. Forever. The Doctor reached up, tip toes stretching, and touched the Masters' forehead on each side
Yours. Always.
Oh Theta. Always so faithful.
A chuckle from the Doctor
So stubborn, you never give me a break. Relax. We haven't finished.
He sent the Master an image. The Master gasped audibly.
"Surely a man like you wouldn't consider …?"
Stop that. I'm not a man. And I'm sorry, so sorry, but this is going to hurt.
The Doctor tore his hands away, the connection ripped away from the Master, leaving him in a world of darkness.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Stars had ignited in the Masters' vision, as the Doctor had whipped his skin. They burst in fury and rainbow light against the back of the blindfold. The Master had revelled in the pain, the drums completely drowned. The thudding of his hearts beating a heavy and insistent rhythm, the high scream of silent pain had seen to that. Oh Rassilon, the Doctor was so good at this. He could feel the wounds at his back and legs sting and throb as a breeze blew through the room. They thrummed in time to his double heartbeat, and the Master found his head tapping out the rhythm. He stopped that soon enough, though, as he realised his mind was slipping back into the drums all too easily.
Every muscle group ached ... the weight of his body on his wrists felt like his bones would splinter, but he was determined not to let it show. Nnngh. He rolled his shoulders, as far the limitations to his movement would allow, and several important-sounding joints clicked loudly. Hmm. Yummy. His eyes blinked into his blackness, and he stared into space.
He heard the Doctor humming a song as he made noises that presumably meant he was finding what he needed. It sounded so familiar, a Gallifreyan lullaby from his childhood. So, so long ago now. He found his mind wandering away from the matter at hand. He never had been sure whether to be grateful or to despise the Lords of Time for what they had made him into, how they had used him, how they had discarded and sacrificed him like so many gone before. Well they were all dust and dead now, he thought with venom, and he was still here, so who won there, then?
His reverie was suddenly, and rudely interrupted by the feel of cold metal at his throat. A low voice at his right ear.
"I want to see inside you. I want to consume all you are. You are the other half of me, and I want to see how You work. I want to take you apart and then put you back together again."
"Oh gods, yes."
"I want to taste more of you. I want you to scream my name when eventually I let you come, you hear me. I want to know who I am to you."
"Yes, oh yes. Doc-tor"
The blade was removed.
"Good boy."
He felt his short hair ruffled, and growled, an instinctive reaction to such fluffiness.
"Now, now ... I may still revoke that particular pleasure. Coming for me, that is, if you don't behave."
He pleaded before his brain could stop him. What had the Doctor done to him? To bring him to this? Like Pavlov’s sodding love-sick puppy, his owner's voice provoking such desire. Ack. He couldn't deny that it wasn't all terrible though, and grinned despite himself.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
The Doctor felt the desire crawling in him. He needed him. He needed him raw and bleeding. Needed all of him, cure the crazy, be with him, inside all of him. That much was blatantly clear, now more so than ever. The Doctor decided he wanted to see the Masters' eyes, to reach inside him fully. He reached up, and took the blindfold off. The Doctor noticed that the Masters' eyes were rimmed in red. Had he been crying, or had his eyes just been watering? The Master blinked a few times, then he gazed down at the Doctor. The Doctor gazed back at him for a moment, just lost in the utter look of bliss that radiated from the Master. He looked beautiful, and at peace for once. The Doctors' hearts felt like they would burst from the sheer joy of seeing that moment.
He bent down, and made two nicks with the blade he still held in his unbruised hand. More wounds, but never mind, he'd heal. The Doctor checked himself in his head, and was a little shocked at how wild he found himself feeling. He pushed the worry firmly to the back of his mind. The worry wasn't needed right now.
The twin pin-prick blades made four crimson marks, two on each side, running inside the Masters' thighs. He traced them with his tongue, first lapping, then sucking hard at the flesh. The Master started gradually growling curses above him, slow at first, then picking up in urgency, but his obvious arousal told a different tale. He trailed his tongue, seeking the ragged edges of the cuts. He pulled at them with his mouth. Something snapped deep inside his mind and suddenly he was on him, attacking from every angle. He grabbed at his body, pulling his legs still closer, to allow him to get better access. He could see bruises raising already, little angry crescent explosions of colour across the Masters' flesh. And gods, the blood tasted so, so good, enriched by passion and desire, sizzling across his tongue. He wanted to possess him, conquer and cure. He could feel the mental link soaring, without them having to try, twisting and burning them both up. Just like being burnt by a Sun, feeling that irresistible pull inwards and inwards ... a whisper: Burn with me. Just to be able to let go, to be, to not have to worry about hurting this One, his equal, his Master. And damn him, he'd been completely right about the Doctors' hunger for this. Like being refreshed by the first rains after a drought, the Doctor wanted to drink him all in.
He paused, panting for breath, and leant heavily against the bedpost. Above him, the Master was seemingly lost in his own world, mumbling entreaties, and curses alike in languages one tumbling after the other. His eyes were heavy lidded, eyes unfocussed, and his head rolled. The Doctor reached up and grabbed ahold of his chin, and pulled him round to look up into his face. He soundly smacked him across his face.
"Come back to me, Koschei. I want your attention."
A growl, "Say. My. Name."
"Ah, so the egotist is still in there then, good stuff!" The Doctor couldn't resist a chirpy response.
"Get bent," the Master managed to spit out between gasps.
"Now, now. That isn't very nice now. Is it, Mas-ter?"
The edge of darkness was immediately back in his tone, and he smacked him back-handed hard across the other side of his face. That'd mean a black eye later. The Master spat out blood.
"Ouch. That smarted."
The Doctor grinned, teeth impossibly wide.
"Glad you approve."
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Continued
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-11-18 02:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-18 02:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-19 04:41 am (UTC)*crosses fingers that it scans better now*
I really want to post this, but if it just doesn't work, I think I'd rather know than make a complete tit of myself!
Regards
G
no subject
Date: 2007-11-19 07:55 am (UTC)My honest opinion? Well, it's not exactly my cup of tea. Your prose is a bit florid and heavy for my tastes and I think it slows down the whole fic with a lot of unnecessary words and descriptions. There's also a fair number of punctuation and style issues and the occasional spelling/word choice problem. I don't want to clog up your comments nitpicking too much, though. If you're still looking to edit this fic some more, I'd be willing to beta very throughly and ruthlessly.
That said, you've got some very hot imagery going on here. I think you've got a genuinely good decent fic, weighed down by a combination of heavy needless descriptions and flow issues. A bit more polishing, hammering and snipping and it could be something rather marvelous. Might be a lot of work, though.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-19 09:57 pm (UTC)Your offer to beta is very much appreciated, despite me being a bit scared by the process. I'd like to take it up, if that's still ok?
I've taken your advice, and chopped quite a bit of excess away already.
I'm determined to give this fic the best shot, as it keeps shouting at me to be written. So, I'm not afraid of a bit of hard work ;)
Should I post the updated version here, or can I send it to you over e-mail?
Cheers again,
(A quite nervous) G
no subject
Date: 2007-11-20 06:41 am (UTC)