fic: Thicker Than Water continued
Nov. 15th, 2007 01:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sistercarrionThe Master felt as though every stretch of his skin was on fire. The smacks to his face had served to highlight this, every touch from the Doctor scorching him deep inside, layers of pretence and show just stripping away. He felt raw and vulnerable, turned inside out. Only the Doctor could ever do this to him. Only his Doctor could ever see through it all. And damn Rassilon if that wasn't scaring him half to another death. He could already hear his body, and more importantly, the drums demanding more of the same treatment, and fuck, if the Doctor didn't touch him more right now, he could feel the begging already waiting on his tongue ready to spill. His brain was tripping over itself, and worlds were dying in slow motion, breaking into comets across a red bloody sky.
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"I'm going to let you down now, but don't worry. I haven't finished with you just yet.”
The Doctor swung the Master round until he could reach where he had secured the chain to itself. He unlocked it, and gradually let the chain run through the loop. He lifted the Master down when the chain had loosened enough, took his full weight over his shoulder, and gently laid him out on the bed. He methodically removed the chain from around the Masters' wrists, and couldn't help but wince when he saw how chewed up and angry-looking the skin that was underneath looked. The Master had shut his eyes again, and looked so peaceful and serene, just lying there. Almost like the serenity that had been on his face when ... The sentence froze in the Doctors' head, but the thought still hung there. When he died, his treacherous mind finished for him. When he died, he had looked that peaceful. The Doctor shook his head as if to physically shake out the thought. He rubbed his earlobe, and pulled distractedly at his hair. He reached down into the kitbag at his feet, and pulled out the nearest thing to a salve he could find. He opened the jar, sniffed it, then poked his finger at it. He licked the creamy substance from the ends of his fingers:
"Mmm ... tastes like strawberries. This'll do."
He removed his shoes and reached up to join the Master on the bed. He covered the Master with his body, letting his full weight lean into the Time Lord beneath him.
The Doctor was still hard, and he rubbed up against the Masters' naked hard on, the fabric of the Doctors' trousers providing a delicious friction. He shuddered, and let out a contented sigh, a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. The Master moaned beneath him.
"Oh, my Doctor. Feel free to do that again."
"Shush." The Doctor held a finger to the Masters' lips. He repeated the motion, slow and languid, feeling every centimetre, every inch, then lifted himself off the Master. He reached over to the jar on the far side of the bed, and scooped his hand into it. The Master looked so very hungry.
"Open your mouth."
The Master responded before he could think about what he was doing. He took the Doctors' fingers into his mouth, and sucked. He licked the Doctors' hand clean, making little moans and groans of pleasure and appreciation.
The Doctor took a little more of the cream onto his fingers, and spread it upwards along the Masters' arms, to his damaged wrists. He kneaded it into the skin here, specks of blood mixing with the cream-white swirls, making pink patterns before being absorbed.
"That tingles."
"It's meant to make things hurt a little less."
"What if I want it to still hurt lots?" The Master pouted like a petulant child.
"Don't worry, there's more time for that. No lasting damage then."
The Doctor suddenly flipped the Master over, so that he was now face down on the bed. He recommenced stroking firmly, the cream vanishing into the Masters' back and shoulders.
"How's that?"
"Mmmm, it's kinda' numbing."
"Really? Now that's interesting. I wonder what it feels like if..."
The Doctor wiped his hands on a torn piece of wall hanging that was lying on the bed. He quickly and clumsily removed his trousers, getting his feet caught up in the process. He fell off the bed. The Master snorted.
"Oh, you're so elegant in this incarnation."
"Shut up." the Doctor muttered from the floor, but there was more than a hint of a grin to his voice. He stood up and shook himself down. He removed his underwear, more careful with his clothing this time. He climbed back onto the bed, letting his erection brush against the back of the Master’s legs before settling into lying next to him. Without letting the Master see he dipped his fingers once again into the cream, not bothering to warm it up first, and slipped his hand between his buttocks. He held the Master’s head down with increasing pressure, pushing his head hard into the mattress, while his fingers worked deeper and deeper into him with a constant pressure.
The Master struggled at first, protesting with yelps and inaudible mutters. Until the Doctor grasped a wrist and twisted it up behind his back, and then he fell silent, and visibly relaxed. The gentle numbing was helping the Doctor work harder into him too. The Doctor worked in silence, pausing only to dip his head down and nip the Master’s shoulders, gently at first, and then harder as his pace picked up. The Master wriggled in pleasure beneath him.
The Doctor suddenly, and without warning removed his hand and his fingers, and reached down to grasp the Master’s other wrist. He forced it up behind his back, to meet with the first. This way he was able to hold both wrists together with one hand of his own, leaving the other hand free. He leant on his free elbow, bringing his face down so that he was level with the Master’s arse. He inhaled deeply, strawberry and musk and maleness assaulting his senses. He felt almost dizzy, heady as he was, drunk on the Master. He leant further forwards and licked, languidly, at first, then more insistently as he edged closer to his arsehole. He could feel the Master trembling beneath him. He circled the puckered skin, and felt the muscles there first tense then relax once more. He stretched out the skin using his fingers, paused, drew back and spat. It slid slowly down his crack and pooled at its' intended destination. The Doctor leant forward once more, and used the added lubrication, salve and spit, to immediately dart his tongue briefly at the Masters' arsehole. The Master was muttering incoherently into the mattress. The Doctor suddenly used the added lubrication to push further, deeper, insistent. Spit and cream and sweat and him. All him. He added one finger, then two, fucking with both tongue and fingers.
He withdrew without warning, an idea suddenly sparking into life. He knelt over the Master’s back ... He ducked low to speak directly into the Master's ear, touched his forehead to press home his point. Felt the darkness ready to pounce.
"Get” Get “Down” Down “On” On “The” The “Floor” Floor."
The Master was elsewhere, words tumbling, mumbling. The Doctor smacked him as hard as he could muster about the head, putting his full weight behind it, knocking him from the bed. The Master landed hard in a mass of tangled limbs.
"I said on the FLOOR. On your knees."
The Master despite the violence, still insolent to the last: "No."
The Doctor was roaring now, letting the all heat and anger, and rage and emotion from the past months flood his mind and into his hands and words. Letting go in the only place he could, with the only other soul he could ... "On. Your. FUCKING. KNEES. Open your fucking MOUTH!"
He grabbed ahold of the Masters' shoulders and spun him around on the floor, so that he was facing the Doctor. The Master was kneeling in front of him, his head bowed, bloody spit drooling from his mouth and nose, and pooling on the floor.
"Look at me," the Doctor now spoke with a calmer tone. "Look up at me, Koschei. Look at what you've made me do now."
He lifted the Master's chin, so that he met his gaze. There the Doctor saw the glittering eyes, the passion inflamed, and beneath it all just there, the vortex mirrored, the madness always dragging them both back kicking and screaming. He wondered how his own eyes looked right about now... The Doctor was hard, the strain of holding off from coming aching all through his balls, and every part of surrounding skin. He was hard for him. From the submission he saw now from the Master, from the glaze of desire that swam through his own mind, and damn it, from the power of it all, the controlled energy that raged through him. He looked down the Masters' body to see that he was still hard too. Guess the Master was right about needing this.
The Master leaned into his hand, nuzzling him, still slack-jawed from the smack to it, and the instruction that he now dare not ignore. The Doctor felt hazy round the edges, the rush still riding him, and pulled the Master's head forward, so that his cock was now right in front of him. He pushed gently into his mouth, past his split lip. The push set the cut to bleeding open again, the double pulse feeding it hard. He slid easily in and out of the Masters' mouth, cock coated in wetness, blood in curling swirls against his pale flesh, pushed back and forth, coating him. The Master held his mouth slack at first, obviously still stunned from the fall, but soon he was hungrily pushing himself further and further onto the Doctor's cock. He was burying his face deep in curls now, deliberately choking himself. The Doctor threw his head back, his legs struggling to hold him upright. He shook all over, he felt the very air tremble in resonance.
The Master was moaning low, and the vibrations fed a crescendo that was rising in waves from the Doctor. He grasped the Master's temples, and was rewarded by an additional rush of sensation, the images roiling through the Master's mind, a constant stream of THEM, all them.. Youth and passion, and hate and love, and tumbling and falling and catching, and blood and swimming through it all, ever onwards. Us us us. The tendrils that were their thoughts, letters, numbers, twirled around each other, a magical dance, intrinsically linked, twisting, turning, soaring. The Doctor was groaning now, a long drawn-out sound, gathering in pitch, as he felt his very being pulled out, and up and into the other's mouth.. He jerked once, twice, and then felt the rush of orgasm upon him, drowning every thought in a supernova behind his eyes. He yelled, the sound rocketing around the room, echoing back at them. The Master beneath him jolted and swallowed deep, then he in turn pumped into empty air, and screamed into the cock that was still choking him as he came: "Doc-tor".
He let the Doctor's cock go, and dropped back on to the floor, lying there, gasping. The Doctor dropped to his knees, landing heavily on broken glass, but not caring a jot. He looked down on the shuddering form of the Master, whose breath was hitching loudly on every rise of his chest.
The Master was open-mouthed after all the battering it had received throughout this encounter. Blood pooled on the floor, and the Doctor grinned at little at this. Guess he got his wish after all. His blood against marble. The Doctor sank lower, grinding his knees deep into the glass, and kissed the tender bruised flesh of His lips. There was a wince from him at first, then a push of a return of a kiss, deep and all-consuming.. The Doctor could taste the Master, his blood and spit, and his own fluids on his tongue, all fizzing bright with artron energy.
The Master leaned up to into the kiss, and breathed with the quietest of stolen breaths ... "Yours"
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
And for once true silence descended. A deafening wall of a fragile peace.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"I'm going to let you down now, but don't worry. I haven't finished with you just yet.”
The Doctor swung the Master round until he could reach where he had secured the chain to itself. He unlocked it, and gradually let the chain run through the loop. He lifted the Master down when the chain had loosened enough, took his full weight over his shoulder, and gently laid him out on the bed. He methodically removed the chain from around the Masters' wrists, and couldn't help but wince when he saw how chewed up and angry-looking the skin that was underneath looked. The Master had shut his eyes again, and looked so peaceful and serene, just lying there. Almost like the serenity that had been on his face when ... The sentence froze in the Doctors' head, but the thought still hung there. When he died, his treacherous mind finished for him. When he died, he had looked that peaceful. The Doctor shook his head as if to physically shake out the thought. He rubbed his earlobe, and pulled distractedly at his hair. He reached down into the kitbag at his feet, and pulled out the nearest thing to a salve he could find. He opened the jar, sniffed it, then poked his finger at it. He licked the creamy substance from the ends of his fingers:
"Mmm ... tastes like strawberries. This'll do."
He removed his shoes and reached up to join the Master on the bed. He covered the Master with his body, letting his full weight lean into the Time Lord beneath him.
The Doctor was still hard, and he rubbed up against the Masters' naked hard on, the fabric of the Doctors' trousers providing a delicious friction. He shuddered, and let out a contented sigh, a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. The Master moaned beneath him.
"Oh, my Doctor. Feel free to do that again."
"Shush." The Doctor held a finger to the Masters' lips. He repeated the motion, slow and languid, feeling every centimetre, every inch, then lifted himself off the Master. He reached over to the jar on the far side of the bed, and scooped his hand into it. The Master looked so very hungry.
"Open your mouth."
The Master responded before he could think about what he was doing. He took the Doctors' fingers into his mouth, and sucked. He licked the Doctors' hand clean, making little moans and groans of pleasure and appreciation.
The Doctor took a little more of the cream onto his fingers, and spread it upwards along the Masters' arms, to his damaged wrists. He kneaded it into the skin here, specks of blood mixing with the cream-white swirls, making pink patterns before being absorbed.
"That tingles."
"It's meant to make things hurt a little less."
"What if I want it to still hurt lots?" The Master pouted like a petulant child.
"Don't worry, there's more time for that. No lasting damage then."
The Doctor suddenly flipped the Master over, so that he was now face down on the bed. He recommenced stroking firmly, the cream vanishing into the Masters' back and shoulders.
"How's that?"
"Mmmm, it's kinda' numbing."
"Really? Now that's interesting. I wonder what it feels like if..."
The Doctor wiped his hands on a torn piece of wall hanging that was lying on the bed. He quickly and clumsily removed his trousers, getting his feet caught up in the process. He fell off the bed. The Master snorted.
"Oh, you're so elegant in this incarnation."
"Shut up." the Doctor muttered from the floor, but there was more than a hint of a grin to his voice. He stood up and shook himself down. He removed his underwear, more careful with his clothing this time. He climbed back onto the bed, letting his erection brush against the back of the Master’s legs before settling into lying next to him. Without letting the Master see he dipped his fingers once again into the cream, not bothering to warm it up first, and slipped his hand between his buttocks. He held the Master’s head down with increasing pressure, pushing his head hard into the mattress, while his fingers worked deeper and deeper into him with a constant pressure.
The Master struggled at first, protesting with yelps and inaudible mutters. Until the Doctor grasped a wrist and twisted it up behind his back, and then he fell silent, and visibly relaxed. The gentle numbing was helping the Doctor work harder into him too. The Doctor worked in silence, pausing only to dip his head down and nip the Master’s shoulders, gently at first, and then harder as his pace picked up. The Master wriggled in pleasure beneath him.
The Doctor suddenly, and without warning removed his hand and his fingers, and reached down to grasp the Master’s other wrist. He forced it up behind his back, to meet with the first. This way he was able to hold both wrists together with one hand of his own, leaving the other hand free. He leant on his free elbow, bringing his face down so that he was level with the Master’s arse. He inhaled deeply, strawberry and musk and maleness assaulting his senses. He felt almost dizzy, heady as he was, drunk on the Master. He leant further forwards and licked, languidly, at first, then more insistently as he edged closer to his arsehole. He could feel the Master trembling beneath him. He circled the puckered skin, and felt the muscles there first tense then relax once more. He stretched out the skin using his fingers, paused, drew back and spat. It slid slowly down his crack and pooled at its' intended destination. The Doctor leant forward once more, and used the added lubrication, salve and spit, to immediately dart his tongue briefly at the Masters' arsehole. The Master was muttering incoherently into the mattress. The Doctor suddenly used the added lubrication to push further, deeper, insistent. Spit and cream and sweat and him. All him. He added one finger, then two, fucking with both tongue and fingers.
He withdrew without warning, an idea suddenly sparking into life. He knelt over the Master’s back ... He ducked low to speak directly into the Master's ear, touched his forehead to press home his point. Felt the darkness ready to pounce.
"Get” Get “Down” Down “On” On “The” The “Floor” Floor."
The Master was elsewhere, words tumbling, mumbling. The Doctor smacked him as hard as he could muster about the head, putting his full weight behind it, knocking him from the bed. The Master landed hard in a mass of tangled limbs.
"I said on the FLOOR. On your knees."
The Master despite the violence, still insolent to the last: "No."
The Doctor was roaring now, letting the all heat and anger, and rage and emotion from the past months flood his mind and into his hands and words. Letting go in the only place he could, with the only other soul he could ... "On. Your. FUCKING. KNEES. Open your fucking MOUTH!"
He grabbed ahold of the Masters' shoulders and spun him around on the floor, so that he was facing the Doctor. The Master was kneeling in front of him, his head bowed, bloody spit drooling from his mouth and nose, and pooling on the floor.
"Look at me," the Doctor now spoke with a calmer tone. "Look up at me, Koschei. Look at what you've made me do now."
He lifted the Master's chin, so that he met his gaze. There the Doctor saw the glittering eyes, the passion inflamed, and beneath it all just there, the vortex mirrored, the madness always dragging them both back kicking and screaming. He wondered how his own eyes looked right about now... The Doctor was hard, the strain of holding off from coming aching all through his balls, and every part of surrounding skin. He was hard for him. From the submission he saw now from the Master, from the glaze of desire that swam through his own mind, and damn it, from the power of it all, the controlled energy that raged through him. He looked down the Masters' body to see that he was still hard too. Guess the Master was right about needing this.
The Master leaned into his hand, nuzzling him, still slack-jawed from the smack to it, and the instruction that he now dare not ignore. The Doctor felt hazy round the edges, the rush still riding him, and pulled the Master's head forward, so that his cock was now right in front of him. He pushed gently into his mouth, past his split lip. The push set the cut to bleeding open again, the double pulse feeding it hard. He slid easily in and out of the Masters' mouth, cock coated in wetness, blood in curling swirls against his pale flesh, pushed back and forth, coating him. The Master held his mouth slack at first, obviously still stunned from the fall, but soon he was hungrily pushing himself further and further onto the Doctor's cock. He was burying his face deep in curls now, deliberately choking himself. The Doctor threw his head back, his legs struggling to hold him upright. He shook all over, he felt the very air tremble in resonance.
The Master was moaning low, and the vibrations fed a crescendo that was rising in waves from the Doctor. He grasped the Master's temples, and was rewarded by an additional rush of sensation, the images roiling through the Master's mind, a constant stream of THEM, all them.. Youth and passion, and hate and love, and tumbling and falling and catching, and blood and swimming through it all, ever onwards. Us us us. The tendrils that were their thoughts, letters, numbers, twirled around each other, a magical dance, intrinsically linked, twisting, turning, soaring. The Doctor was groaning now, a long drawn-out sound, gathering in pitch, as he felt his very being pulled out, and up and into the other's mouth.. He jerked once, twice, and then felt the rush of orgasm upon him, drowning every thought in a supernova behind his eyes. He yelled, the sound rocketing around the room, echoing back at them. The Master beneath him jolted and swallowed deep, then he in turn pumped into empty air, and screamed into the cock that was still choking him as he came: "Doc-tor".
He let the Doctor's cock go, and dropped back on to the floor, lying there, gasping. The Doctor dropped to his knees, landing heavily on broken glass, but not caring a jot. He looked down on the shuddering form of the Master, whose breath was hitching loudly on every rise of his chest.
The Master was open-mouthed after all the battering it had received throughout this encounter. Blood pooled on the floor, and the Doctor grinned at little at this. Guess he got his wish after all. His blood against marble. The Doctor sank lower, grinding his knees deep into the glass, and kissed the tender bruised flesh of His lips. There was a wince from him at first, then a push of a return of a kiss, deep and all-consuming.. The Doctor could taste the Master, his blood and spit, and his own fluids on his tongue, all fizzing bright with artron energy.
The Master leaned up to into the kiss, and breathed with the quietest of stolen breaths ... "Yours"
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
And for once true silence descended. A deafening wall of a fragile peace.
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Date: 2007-11-22 08:48 pm (UTC)It's very well written (I didn't think it was florid at all, although I am a fan of descriptive stuff) I actually wasn't expecting it to be this good when you said it was your first fic. Got some very nice mental images of Mr Tennant's Doctor ;o) I particularly liked the dialogue, it's not always easy to get it natural and in-character.
I must admit "He quickly and clumsily removed his trousers, getting his feet caught up in the process. He fell off the bed. The Master snorted.
"Oh, you're so elegant in this incarnation."" that had to be my favourite line *grins*
You should definitely carry on writing.