Ad Victorem Spolias
Title: Ad Victorem Spolias
Characters/Pairing: Ten/Master
Rating: NC-17
Warning: It's slash.
Summary: The Doctor actually got to keep the Master. A discussion about the nature of heroism and enmity very quickly leads to something less boring.
The Doctor opened the Tardis door. “I’ll need to clean the place up,” he said. “Jack’s left Paradox bits all over. Still, she’ll be flying again in no time.” He turned to the Master. “Now, let’s find you a place to sleep.”
The Master remained silent, as he had ever since the bullet had missed him.
“Yes,” the Doctor continued, “Paradox on the floor. I’d ask you to help me rebuild the Tardis.” He paused for a second. “If I were an idiot. I can’t let you stay in the engine room. We’ll find you someplace else.”
The Master chose coversation over monologue. “You should have let her kill me,” he spat out. “This can’t work. Not us, not here, not now.”
“We’re Timelords. Every time is now. If ever we could have worked together, it can always happen.”
“You act so peaceful, but you can’t be that much of an idiot. Don’t you understand? I’m your enemy.”
“You’re the only one who wants that. That was only ever you. I’ve never wanted to hurt you.”
Anger flared in the Master’s eyes. “You’ve never wanted me dead. But you’ve always wanted me hurt. How can you work to crush everything a man has and wants, and say you’re not trying to hurt him?”
“I have never worked against you. I do what I do for the sake of the universe itself, and when that’s involved stopping you -“
“You cling to those, your causes. You gave up on justice long ago. Everything is personal. You’re keeping me here for your own sake, not for mine.”
The Master fell silent, not sure what the Doctor would say.
“Well,” said the Doctor, slowly, “if it is for me, if it’s entirely selfish. . . I can do what I like.”
“Yeah? And what is it you like?”
“You’re still handcuffed.”
The Master’s eyes widened. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“If I’m a selfish man, then I’ll take what I’ve conquered. A hero’s reward.” He quickly pushed the Master up against one of the support beams and leaned in toward him. The Master closed his eyes and parted his lips, but the Doctor didn’t kiss him. Instead, he grabbed the Master’s hair and pulled his head back.
“You know,” the Doctor whispered, “I’ve spent a year as your slave. Don’t you think it’s time I got a bit of my own back?” He tore the Master’s shirt open, sending buttons skittering over the grated floor.
“That was Prada,” the Master managed to gasp.
“I’ve never been one for designer brands.”
The Doctor pulled the Master close to him, and bit his right nipple. The Master hadn’t been expecting that, and let out a small cry. The Doctor grabbed the Master’s hair again. This time he did kiss him, roughly and hungrily. “Now,” the Doctor breathed into the Master’s ear, “I’m generous in victory, so I’ll leave this one to you. How should we continue? Would you rather kneel or bend over?”
“I. . .” The Doctor was staring at him with determined lust, and the Master couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “Fine,” the Master said, and turned his back to the Doctor.
The Doctor pressed himself against the Master, pushing him toward the central controls of the Tardis.
“We’ll do this here. The ruin of your Paradox.” The Doctor slowly undid the Master’s belt - also Prada - and began to lower the Master’s trousers.
“Don’t you dare rip those,” the Master said. “It’s my best suit.” It wasn’t what he’d meant to say, but he wasn’t entirely sure what it was he had meant to say. The Doctor did not tear the Master’s best suit, merely letting the fabric fall to the floor. The Master heard the Doctor undo his own trousers, heard him spit into his hand, and felt the wet fingers on his ass. He held his breath. The Doctor pushed into him, and the Master exhaled in a pained gasp.
“Was that too fast?” the Doctor asked. “I’m sorry. Maybe I do want to hurt you a little bit after all.” He thrusted again.
“Doctor. . .” the Master moaned softly.
“Yes?”
“Fuck me harder.”
Characters/Pairing: Ten/Master
Rating: NC-17
Warning: It's slash.
Summary: The Doctor actually got to keep the Master. A discussion about the nature of heroism and enmity very quickly leads to something less boring.
The Doctor opened the Tardis door. “I’ll need to clean the place up,” he said. “Jack’s left Paradox bits all over. Still, she’ll be flying again in no time.” He turned to the Master. “Now, let’s find you a place to sleep.”
The Master remained silent, as he had ever since the bullet had missed him.
“Yes,” the Doctor continued, “Paradox on the floor. I’d ask you to help me rebuild the Tardis.” He paused for a second. “If I were an idiot. I can’t let you stay in the engine room. We’ll find you someplace else.”
The Master chose coversation over monologue. “You should have let her kill me,” he spat out. “This can’t work. Not us, not here, not now.”
“We’re Timelords. Every time is now. If ever we could have worked together, it can always happen.”
“You act so peaceful, but you can’t be that much of an idiot. Don’t you understand? I’m your enemy.”
“You’re the only one who wants that. That was only ever you. I’ve never wanted to hurt you.”
Anger flared in the Master’s eyes. “You’ve never wanted me dead. But you’ve always wanted me hurt. How can you work to crush everything a man has and wants, and say you’re not trying to hurt him?”
“I have never worked against you. I do what I do for the sake of the universe itself, and when that’s involved stopping you -“
“You cling to those, your causes. You gave up on justice long ago. Everything is personal. You’re keeping me here for your own sake, not for mine.”
The Master fell silent, not sure what the Doctor would say.
“Well,” said the Doctor, slowly, “if it is for me, if it’s entirely selfish. . . I can do what I like.”
“Yeah? And what is it you like?”
“You’re still handcuffed.”
The Master’s eyes widened. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“If I’m a selfish man, then I’ll take what I’ve conquered. A hero’s reward.” He quickly pushed the Master up against one of the support beams and leaned in toward him. The Master closed his eyes and parted his lips, but the Doctor didn’t kiss him. Instead, he grabbed the Master’s hair and pulled his head back.
“You know,” the Doctor whispered, “I’ve spent a year as your slave. Don’t you think it’s time I got a bit of my own back?” He tore the Master’s shirt open, sending buttons skittering over the grated floor.
“That was Prada,” the Master managed to gasp.
“I’ve never been one for designer brands.”
The Doctor pulled the Master close to him, and bit his right nipple. The Master hadn’t been expecting that, and let out a small cry. The Doctor grabbed the Master’s hair again. This time he did kiss him, roughly and hungrily. “Now,” the Doctor breathed into the Master’s ear, “I’m generous in victory, so I’ll leave this one to you. How should we continue? Would you rather kneel or bend over?”
“I. . .” The Doctor was staring at him with determined lust, and the Master couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “Fine,” the Master said, and turned his back to the Doctor.
The Doctor pressed himself against the Master, pushing him toward the central controls of the Tardis.
“We’ll do this here. The ruin of your Paradox.” The Doctor slowly undid the Master’s belt - also Prada - and began to lower the Master’s trousers.
“Don’t you dare rip those,” the Master said. “It’s my best suit.” It wasn’t what he’d meant to say, but he wasn’t entirely sure what it was he had meant to say. The Doctor did not tear the Master’s best suit, merely letting the fabric fall to the floor. The Master heard the Doctor undo his own trousers, heard him spit into his hand, and felt the wet fingers on his ass. He held his breath. The Doctor pushed into him, and the Master exhaled in a pained gasp.
“Was that too fast?” the Doctor asked. “I’m sorry. Maybe I do want to hurt you a little bit after all.” He thrusted again.
“Doctor. . .” the Master moaned softly.
“Yes?”
“Fuck me harder.”