Title: Love To Hate You
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/The Master
Fandom: Doctor Who
Prompt: 25, Dildo
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor or the Master. Please do not sue.
***"You want this."
"You need this, Doctor. Deny it all you like, but you know it's true."
"That's fine, Doctor. Keep denying what you need. You'll eventually be gagging for it. In fact, I think you already are. Your pride just won't let you admit it." The Master's voice was smug, self-satisfied. "I can read you much better than you think I can."
This time, he didn't give the Master the satisfaction of answering. What good would it do? He would believe whatever he chose to -- which usually wasn't the Doctor's own words.
He didn't bother to open his eyes, or to struggle against the ropes that bound him to the bed. The other man was good at tying knots; he wouldn't be able to escape, anyway. He'd long since discovered that the only thing to do in a situation like this was to close his eyes and try to detach himself from whatever was being done to his body. It was easier to cope with the onslaught of pain than to fight -- and lose.
The Doctor flexed his fingers experimentally, sighing when he realized that he was bound too tightly to have any hope of wriggling free. And with the Tardis reacting more to the Master's wishes than to his own .... there was nothing for him to do at this point but to simply survive whatever that twisted, labyrinthine mind had planned for him.
His thin body was stretched taut between the four bedposts, wrists bound to either post over his head, legs spread and ankles bound to the bottom ones. He arched his back slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it was impossible. He hated this; he felt exposed, as if he was some kind of display in a sideshow.
He kept his face averted from the Master; when he didn't have to look at the other man, it was much easier to keep a tight lock on his thoughts. The Master was usually able to break through eventually, but that wasn't going to stop him from holding out as long as he could. Not for the first time, the Doctor cursed his inability to mask his thoughts.
Why was it so hard for him to keep those protective walls around what he was thinking? He seemed to lose the ability more and more each time he encountered the Master, the other Time Lord chipping away at his inner barriers a bit more each time their minds touched.
The Master wasn't even near him now; he was all the way across the room, kneeling by what appeared to be a large chest, apparently trying to find something in it. But somehow, he could still feel that mind pressing against his own, searching for a crack in his barriers, trying to scratch through the veneer and find a way inside.
His tormentor stood, turning towards him with a smile on his lips. The Doctor's stomach muscles tensed, almost seeming to cramp; that smile never meant anything good, at least not from his point of view. It foretold of something that the Master thought was pleasurable -- which meant, of course, that the Doctor more than likely wouldn't find it so.
Turning, the Master put down whatever he'd been holding, then stood and regarded the Doctor with a speculative gaze. Moving over to the bed, he sat down beside the bound man, moving one hand down the Doctor's inner thigh and laughing softly when the Time Lord flinched at the touch. "Ah, Doctor, that sort of reaction never fails to amuse me."
Reaching for the small table at the side of the bed, the Master picked up a long scarf that was lying there, moving it through his fingers and caressing it as though he enjoyed the feel of the fabric. "Hmmm. It will be interesting to deprive you of at least a part of your senses, Doctor. Watching how you react to anything I choose to do to you is always a learning experience. You see, I'm learning just how that mind of yours works."
Leaning forward, he wrapped the scarf over the Doctor's eyes; once, then twice, tying the ends of it firmly behind the Time Lord's head. The Doctor's lips parted as though he was going to speak, then clamped shut, his mouth a thin line. But he didn't reveal any of his inner turmoil; no, that was something he didn't want the Master to sense. Perhaps this time he could manage to hold it all in, not let this monster know just what he was feeling.
"It's so much more entertaining when you don't know what to expect," the Master purred, moving his hands down the Doctor's body again as he leaned over the helpless Time Lord. The Doctor winced as the other man's knuckles brushed lightly against his cock, cursing himself inwardly. Damn the male body's reaction to direct sexual stimulation.
The Master's fingers curled around his stiffening cock, stroking slowly up and down the shaft, squeezing the head with each upward sweep. The Doctor couldn't keep himself from rocking his hips upwards, trying desperately to get more friction. But the Master drew his hand away after a few moments, getting up and going back to whatever was in that box.
The Doctor could sense when the Master was back by the bed; he could almost feel those eyes traversing over his nude body, drinking in every inch of him as if he was some kind of gourmet meal for the Master to gorge himself on. He wanted to struggle, to writhe away, to cover himself, but that was impossible -- all he could do was lie here and know that he was being scrutinized, his every reaction observed by an eagle eye.
So the best thing to do was to lie still and concentrate on keeping his thoughts blocked and barricaded, though it had been sadly proven in the past that he wasn't nearly as good at doing that as he'd like to be. The Doctor forced himself to stay calm, taking shallow breaths, not letting his fists clench, keeping his muscles relaxed.
He could feel the other man sitting back down on the bed, feel him settling himself nearer to the bottom of it than the top. He shouldn't be surprised at that; after all, he knew that the Master wasn't overly interested in any part of his body above the waist.
"Now, now, Doctor, this will never do." The Master's voice sounded reproving, almost as though he was clicking his tongue and shaking his head. "You know that this isn't how I want you to behave." He leaned forward, pressing his lips to the Doctor's ear. "You do realise that you'll suffer far less if you simply give in and do as I demand, don't you?"
"Damn you," the Doctor ground out through clenched teeth, his words making the Master sit back and roar with laughter.
"Oh, Doctor, you're such a pleasure to toy with," he chuckled, smoothing his hands over the Time Lord's thighs again. "I know how badly you want this, no matter how much your own mind might try to deny it. You can't hide yourself from me, you know. I'm far more powerful than you will ever be. You shouldn't even bother trying to hide."
The Doctor couldn't keep back a shiver of revulsion; he hated this man's touch, hated the fact that his traitorous body could respond so eagerly to the feel of those hands on his skin. And as for this man being more powerful than he was .... perhaps that was true, but at least he could make the Master fight for every inch of ground he gained.
Those warm hands were between his legs now, cupping his balls, spreading his cheeks, two fingers shoving inside him with no warning. The Doctor cried out, his hips raising off the bed, his muscles going tight and tense around the intrusion. He couldn't squirm away, couldn't close his legs, couldn't defend himself against whatever the Master was going to do to him.
"You know, I'd thought of making this a bit easier for you," the Master continued, twisting his wrist as he thrust his fingers inside the Doctor again, wringing another cry from the Time Lord. "But after your little display of resistance, I don't think you deserve that. And it's much more entertaining to hear you scream than to give you pleasure."
Those probing fingers pulled away, the feeling of being invaded and stretched disappearing. But the Doctor knew better than to relax; whatever the Master was going to do to him wouldn't stop there, he was sure. He tensed, waiting for the next assault, wishing that he could see what the Master was doing.
He didn't have to wonder for long; without warning, there was something large and blunt pressing against his entrance, the tip pushing inside him before stopping abruptly. The Doctor gasped, turning his head from side to side; whatever it was felt far too large and thick to be pushed into him. His muscles were already tightening in protest, and without lubrication, this was going to be one of the more painful experiences the Master had put him through.
"No .... please .... don't," he gasped, catching his breath as more of the object pressed into him, feeling his muscles going tight in reaction. "Not without lubricant .... please ...." He hated to beg, but at this point, he didn't feel that he had any choice.
The Master let out a snort that could be interpreted as being amused or annoyed, whichever way he decided to take it. The Doctor didn't care which; as long as he wasn't torn into pieces by whatever it was that the Master was trying to press inside his body, it mattered little to him how the other man might happen to feel at the moment.
"Oh, all right, Doctor. I suppose it would be a shame to tear you too badly -- then I wouldn't be able to use you in all the ways I enjoy. Lubricant it is." Mercifully, the object was withdrawn, and the Doctor let out a soft sigh of relief. At least this was going to be made a little easier for him. Thank goodness for small favors.
He could hear the Master moving away, then the sound of him fumbling through the drawers of the bedside table. He presumably found what he was looking for; the Doctor felt the bed move as the other other man sat back down, then the sensation of the Master leaning over him before he felt those fingers stroking between his legs again.
The Doctor clenched his teeth when he felt the Master's fingers press against his entrance again, then slip inside him. He hated being probed like this, hated feeling that the Master could know him so intimately without his consent. But at the moment, he had no choice but to lie here passively and accept what was being done to him.
"There, Doctor, I think that should take care of things," the Master said after a few minutes, withdrawing his fingers from the Time Lord's body and sitting back, his tone one of smug satisfaction. "Let's get on with it, shall we?"
The Doctor clamped his lips shut, refusing to answer the taunting words. The Master knew damn well that he had no choice in the matter; he was going to be violated no matter what he said or did. As much as he loathed having to lie here like the other man's sex toy and do nothing, it wasn't as though he could leave, or even manage to squirm away. The Master had made sure of that; even struggling wasn't an option.
The large, blunt-tipped object pressed against him again, this time more insistently. The Doctor squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip as it pressed inside him, his fists clenching in the handcuffs that bound his wrists to the bedposts. It was big, larger than anything he'd ever had inside him, he was sure -- and he was unsure of his body's ability to accommodate something so big. It already felt as if it was tearing him apart.
He couldn't keep himself from letting out a soft whimper, bringing a soft laugh from the Master. "Now, Doctor, we've barely begun. I can't have you giving up when the game has only started, can I? You're made of sterner stuff than that, my beauty -- you've proven that many times before. Though I do so love to see you in pain."
A dildo. That was what it had to be, the Doctor thought, and a bloody huge one. His small fists clenched again when it was pushed deeper, his muscles tensing and clenching around it, trying in vain to protect himself from the invasion. But it slid inexorably forward, bringing another soft whimper to his lips; he was unable to keep the sound back, though he tried to.
"You're quite beautifully resistant, Doctor," the Master breathed, leaning over him, so close that the Doctor could feel hot breath against his face. "But you'll break in the end. I'll get my way, as I always do. You're playing a losing game -- as you very well know."
The dildo slid almost out of him, the Master waiting for his muscles to relax before pushing it back in, harder this time, deeper. The Doctor writhed against his bonds as he was filled, gasping for breath, trying to keep back another soft cry. It was big, too big; the Master was pushing it deeper inside him with each thrust, the pain worse with every movement.
"No .... it hurts .... please ...." He hated how he sounded, hated begging for mercy when he knew he would get none. But it was all he could do, the only route available to him.
"Oh yes, Doctor," the Master whispered, his lips against the Doctor's ear again. "Keep begging, and perhaps the pain will end sooner rather than later. Be a good boy and ask me nicely, and I just might take pity on you. Though I certainly wouldn't bank on it." He thrust the dildo into the Time Lord again, twisting his wrist as he did so.
This time, the Doctor screamed, the pain almost too much to bear. Maybe he wasn't being torn, but it felt as though he was, a white-hot heat starting between his legs and spreading over his body, extending through every nerve, every pore.
He was sure that he was being torn into pieces inside, each thrust of the oversized dildo into him ripping him apart. He could almost feel rivulets of blood running down his thighs, even though he was sure that if there was blood, the Master would be moving away from him in disgust. Or laughing, enjoying the pain he was inflicting.
His throat was raw, his mouth dry; how often had he screamed now? He'd lost count, lost track of how many times he'd begged the Master to stop. He could feel the other man's mind probing into his, reaching through the cracks in the pitiable walls he'd tried to keep up. Those walls were crumbling, unable to withstand the combination of mental and physical pressure.
Another thrust, and another. By this time, the Doctor couldn't catch his breath enough for any more screaming; he was concentrating on just being able to breathe, each hard, deep thrust snatching his breath away and making his head swim. If he could let himself sink into blessed unconsciousness, at least that would make the pain stop ....
But the Master was having none of it. With one final thrust, the movement stilled, the dildo buried inside the Doctor's ass. "There, Doctor. I'll leave you like this for a while, to let you get used to the feel of something that large inside you." A hand on his stomach, fingers moving downward and curling around his cock, starting to stroke. "Don't try to escape into oblivion, Doctor. You'll only suffer more if you attempt to find an easy way out."
"You bastard," the Doctor whispered, his voice hoarse and cracked. "One day you'll pay for this, many times over. And I'll laugh and enjoy watching you suffer, just as you're doing now."
"No, you won't," the Master said softly, leaning close to the Doctor and licking along the side of his jaw. "You don't have it in you, Doctor. You're doomed to always be the victim, never the conqueror. Haven't you discovered yet that you were born to be dominated? This is what you were meant for, my dear. Have the good sense to accept it."
The Doctor was startled into silence, turning his face to the side and not answering the other man. The Master sat there, regarding the Time Lord for a few moments before he rose and strolled to the door. Turning, he surveyed his handiwork again, his eyes moving over the bound and helpless man on the bed before he spoke again.
"You couldn't possibly make others suffer as you have, Doctor. You have that weakness in you that would never let you cause harm to another living being -- no matter how much you may think you hate me, you couldn't harm me if it comes to that. Great hate engenders great love, Doctor. The truth is, you don't hate me at all -- quite the opposite."
With that, the Master turned and left the room, leaving the Doctor to contemplate his words in silence, their meaning swirling around and around in his mind.
Did he love the Master? Absurd, he told himself fiercely, shaking his head. No. He couldn't love someone who could do things like this to him, someone who could put his through such excruciating pain. The Master was cold, cruel, completely undeserving of any emotion save hatred. What he felt for that monster could never bear the sacred name of love.
He hated the Master. Hated him with a dark, implacable coldness that he'd never felt for anyone else. He hated everything this man did to him, hated his touch, the innumerable violations, the taunting words. Hated each and every little thing about him.
Then why did his body respond so eagerly to that touch? It was more than just the male body's inevitable physical reaction; there was something more to it, something beyond the physical. Something that he couldn't quite put a name to, that lurked in his subconscious.
He didn't want to think about it. Didn't need to. Right now, he needed to try to relax himself, and stop thinking about what would be in store for him when the Master returned. The Doctor winced, trying to relax his muscles around the dildo. It was impossible; there was no comfortable position he could find that didn't push it more deeply inside his body.
All he could do was lie here and wait, with the Master's words ringing in his ears -- and the growing suspicion in the back of his mind that those words would prove to be horribly true.