Chapter 1: Gallifrey
Notes:
First chapter WOohoo! Hope you all enjoy this one. xx
Chapter Text
Energy burned through the fibres of his palm and shot out at his target, Rassilion, the man who had ruined his life. Nothing but fury rushed through The Master's veins in those moments. With his mind focused, he hardly noticed the floor beneath him slipping away. It peeled like wet paper to reveal a void of nothingness. The last echoes of Earth had escaped him, and soon, the void was all there was. Flickers of light flashed in the distance before sweeping past him, space and time reshaped themselves. His assaults faltered, and with a choked gasp, The Master fell to the ground, slick metal replacing hardwood. He tried to keep himself conscious, but it was useless. Soon, he had succumbed to the warm atmosphere still forming around his tired body, and his head fell to the ground.
He woke to the scent of incense and dust. Rich red silks were pressed against his bare skin, along his pained back and bundled in his bleeding fists. The tension of battle was still ripe within his muscles, The Master forced himself upright to examine the world he had landed in. A small room lit only by a few candles scattered along the clay floor. Despite the dim lighting, he could tell this was only one room of a much larger building, with various doors surrounding him.
Before he could wonder who had taken him, he noticed the elder woman sat by his side. Her eyes were frantically wide, her pale skin decorated in various sigil-like tattoos, and a deep red cloak was hung over her head.
"I'm not gonna hurt you, it's just a precaution." She muttered, drawing his attention to the metal cuffs around his wrists, chaining him to the floor. Her voice was quick and sharp through chattering teeth that refused to still, "You understand, don't you? You were always a clever one."
Though his memory was hazy, he recognized her as a member of the sisterhood of Karn. Besides that, he hadn't the faintest idea. "Where am I?"
"Gallifrey. The Doctor won."
It all came rushing back to him as if he had woken from a dream. His botched resurrection, Gallifrey's return and eventual demise, and most embarrassingly, his sacrifice/tantrum, which had resulted in him being sent back to Gallifrey with the rest of his kind. A feeling akin to being locked in a cage pressed its iron bars into his chest, forcing adrenaline through his veins.
"The council wasn't sure what to do with you. You killed Rassilion. I volunteered to be a physician until you woke." The Timelady pressed a warm cup of tea against his chest and urged The Master to take it, "Drink, it will help with the pain."
He hesitated, but with the cold electricity of his burning life force coursing its way through his core, he decided to try the mad woman's remedy. It was hot but not enough to burn his lips as he tipped the cup back and let it pool in his mouth. Nutty and bitter, but not awful tasting.
He forced his aching throat to speak, "Who are you?"
"The Visionary, High Council."
Right, high council, pompous fuckers were probably debating his fate just beyond these walls. For a moment, he almost felt a naive safety in the dimly lit room. Perhaps it was the clay walls reminiscent of Karn rather than anything Rassilion would have built, or the strange Visionary tapping her teeth next to him. He had always trusted the sisterhood of Karn far more than any authority on Gallifrey, a habit he had formed in childhood that was too ingrained in his psyche to toss out now.
"So, what do you lot plan to do with me, hm? Euthanize the liability or kick him to the curb?"
A pained sigh escaped The Visionary, and she subconsciously played with his blankets, tugging them around his shoulders, "I see change in your future. This pain will not follow you forever, my child."
After a tense silence, he laughed, "If there's one thing I know how to do, it's hold a grudge, though my other greatest talent seems to be coming back from the dead, so that doesn't give me an answer, does it?" The Visionary avoided his question yet again, either because it was too difficult to think about or she genuinely didn't know. Regardless The Master decided not to push it any further and instead opened a new line of questioning, "What's with this red stuff?"
She had drawn various sigils and markings along his chest in some sort of red paint-paste. He recognized a few of them as symbols of the sisterhood of Karn, but he didn't have the slightest clue what they were for.
"They will keep your life force inside for now. Intervention is needed if you wish to survive another night." After she had finished fiddling with his blanket, The Visionary scurried to her feet and with a wide-eyed stare announced her leave, "I must inform the council of your wakening."
"Right, they'll want to hold my trial as soon as possible. No room for celebration in this place, hm?" She had already left by the time he finished mumbling to himself, and with the large door shut behind her, he was left alone. The Visionary didn't seem like much of a talker, but that made sense with how erratic she appeared. Judging by her religious nature, that probably had to do with the sisterhood, though the other members he had met before hadn't acted like that. Perhaps she had gone mad after some massive occult revelation, not unlike himself now that The Master thought about it. One could call his experience with the Untempered Schism "eye-opening" in a similar way. Though that wasn't all, was it now? Rassilion admitted they had planted the drumbeat in his head, it wasn't the Schism that had made him mad...it had been his people. Perhaps that could be said for everyone facing the same affliction he had, victims of their kind's cruelty. Had The Visionary's madness been a symptom of some ritual gone wrong or the reaction of others after witnessing her new mindset?
His mental rambling was cut short by a harsh slam, a stampede of brutish footsteps, and two burly guards pulling him to his feet. So much for The Visionary's kindness.
The guards led him out into the hall, which resembled far more of the Gallifrey he knew and despised. Every inch of the metal walls reeked with noble narcissism. Down identical corridors, they dragged him until the three had reached the Gallifreyan equivalent of a throne room, where peasants were meant to bow before the high and mighty council and beg for their forgiveness before they were doomed to the pyre. That was what they expected from him, wasn't it? Well, if they wanted him to get down on his knees and plead, they were in for a rude awakening. The Master didn't beg, not since he was a kid too naive to understand the cruelty of reality.
He recognized some members whom he hadn't seen in nearly a millennium. Each one looked just as pitiful as the last. They were hardly the leaders this planet needed, but he wasn't here to talk politics. The Master was brought to his knees by the guards and, out of spite, sat back on his heels, straightening his back and glaring at the council with a devious grin. "I'd say it's nice to see you all, but it really isn't. Let's make this quick, yeah? I've barely been back in this body a week, I'd like to get some mileage out of it before I gotta go back to the drawing board."
They all stood so regally on their stage of rich silver painted in all the bitterness of false enlightenment. He couldn't tell if they were really disappointed in him or if they simply had so much sadness in their frail bodies that all their faces could do was frown, but it was clear a smile or even an impolite funeral chuckle was out of the picture for the council.
"We have come to a decision."
The deep voice rang through the tall room like a vibrating gong. The frontman, whom he didn't recognize, began. The Master vaguely listened to his formal words, making sure to catch the important bits. He found himself distracted by the wide windows beyond them. He hadn't seen Gallifrey in...well, truthfully, he didn't know, from the lifetime he spent at the end of Earth to a year and a bit ruling Britain and however long he spent dead, time ironically didn't matter at the moment. To see the mountains and the perpetual sunset skies was like a breath of fresh air.
"We will heal your condition, but we require something in return."
He pursed his lips, "Mm, cool thanks, what's the catch?"
"You must never return to Gallifrey."
They said something else about him being guilty of murdering the president or some rubbish like that, but truthfully, he wasn't listening. He got the important bits, they'd fix him up as long as he hit the road and never came back, which sounded reasonable enough. Honestly, it was a bit too reasonable, but he supposed that with Rassilion gone, most of that war-like brutality had left with him. He took what he could get and agreed to their deal.
Dust-covered clay stained a deep red by the heat of the nearby sun formed horns of fiery bone that jutted out like the broken collarbones of an ancient land. Karn was a mythical place, a planet of mystery and legend, the likes of which filled The Master's head as his black boots hit the ground. Ever since he was a child stealing books of forbidden history, a welcome result of his rebellious streak, hiding in the blackened corners of his and The Doctor's dorm reading all he could on the planet, he had been fascinated. Even after cruel time aged his mind, he felt a comfort here. A smile approached his lips, remembering those forgotten days. The Doctor, a weaker thing back then, was the only one who'd indulge his interests. Whether to seem cool following in his footsteps or genuine kindness, The Master wasn't sure. Regardless of the reason, he'd let him rant his ear off about it, muttering curses to those high above them and interlocking their pinkies - a sacred promise never to become as stupid and heartless as they had. Whether that promise lasted the many millennia of their stormy friendship, The Master wasn't sure, but at least at the time, his heart was in it. How naive he was to believe that'd never change.
He could still remember the first time he'd stepped foot on Karn. The hot air filled his lungs and stabilized the pulse of his hearts as if welcoming an old friend. It was hard to picture how long ago that was. Karn hadn't aged a day. It was a bit upsetting to know his last time setting foot on Gallifrey had only been for half a day, but that seemed fitting for his life. Gallifrey had only been his home in technicality, nothing more. Perhaps the planet felt some pity for him, but he was sure the Time Lords hadn't...well, most of them. Not to say The Doctor was special, he was merely able to see his potential, nothing else.
The waving hand of The Visionary pierced through his daydream with whisper-like encouragements. He rolled back his shoulders and followed her further into the arid landscape of ringed and hooked dolmens. Despite his many resurrections, he had never felt the warmth of the sacred flame. It felt like an accomplishment, surely something to cross off the bucket list. However, humans who used those probably had more realistic goals. The sacred flame was rarely used for these sorts of things; he might be the first to whom this had ever happened. Even if it was part of a deal banishing him from his home planet, he couldn't help but feel a little special, as special as the "diseased" really could. That's what Rassilion had said. Diseased...ugh, what a jerk. He almost laughed at his own thought, letting out a stifled chuckle. Perhaps 'jerk' wasn't the most sophisticated term for what he was--emphasis on the was--but it wasn't a lie.
The Visionary led him into one of the smaller temples, presumably one less sacred. A Ceremonial bath sat in the centre of one of the finer rooms. It was built of clay, moulded by the hands of the sisterhood into grooved psychedelic tiles and shimmering gold sigils. Suddenly, he was bombarded by a group of sisters, hands stretching across his form, yet hardly a smile across their faces. His borrowed black trousers were hastily undone and tugged down to his ankles. For a bunch of perverts looking for a touch, judging by the way they practically ripped them off, they didn't seem too pleased about it.
"What the-"
The Visionary interrupted him with a regal tone, "The body must be prepared."
Ah, right. They were always earnest about spiritual cleanliness. One had to be properly prepared before a ritual, especially one as serious as this. Still, couldn't they have had a bit more tact? When his trousers and pants were removed, they ushered him toward the bath with palms pressed against his back. He stumbled into its shallow pool and sank into the water. It was comfortably warm.
It was hard to feel normal with a dozen strangers scrubbing his body, but he tried to regain some composure. The Master relaxed into the smooth glazed clay and let them clean him. Warm water rippled around his body and swirled with foaming soap. He felt eerily like a child again, a weakness he hadn't felt in hundreds of years. The Master tensed and brought his legs a little closer to his chest.
One of them, a woman with long flowing hair, met his eyes with a slow smile, "I didn't take you as one to be scared of a bath."
"Scared?!" he defended, "I'm not...oh shut up!"
She slid her hand down his thigh in an attempt to make him relax, "It's okay, we won't hurt you."
A soft laughter escaped the others. "I'm not a child, you don't have to coddle me. It's just a bit odd being bathed, that's all."
He lowered his legs again and leaned back a little further with a sigh. He didn't expect this to be so infantilizing.
"I can imagine so, if the stories are true." She thought for a moment, "What will you do once you've been healed?"
The others chimed in, "Travel?"
"Conquer?"
"Find companionship?" The last said with a flirtatious wink.
He opened his mouth to respond before realizing he didn't know the answer. Travelling, well, that was a possibility, but the idea sounded a bit ehh. Too much to see, not enough want or need in him to actually do it. Perhaps it was cynicism as The Doctor would have called it, but he didn't care. The vastness of the universe wasn't what he cared about, what he thought about day in and day out, what kept him going. He wasn't sure what that was, but he knew it wasn't travelling.
Conquering, now that sounded like him. He could never be the ruler of Gallifrey, never in his heart, but he could be the ruler of some small nowhere planet. But once again, the word filled him with a quiet dread. An odd dread he hadn't felt before. Maybe he'd finally reached that mystery sickness called maturity, or maybe The Doctor really had hit a sore spot in all his ramblings, but conquering didn't sound as appealing as it once had.
Companionship, he wasn't sure how he felt about that one anymore. He'd always kept some warm body around to talk to, to touch. But he had never had a true companion, someone like-
The Master swung his head to the side and hit his cranium against the bath. It forced out a moan, he brought a hand up to rub the sore spot. The second ripple of laughter sent a soft red to his cheeks. He tried to come up with some excuse, but couldn't find one that didn't sound like the lie it was, "Wander. I think I'll just wander for a while."
The long-haired one hummed knowingly and scrubbed from his chest down to his hips, "It is the best way to find yourself."
Find himself? Well, maybe that was fair; his sense of self was possibly the worst it had ever been. Nothing felt real these days. Must have been a side effect of his botched resurrection; regardless, he could use a little self-love after all he'd been through. Emphasis on the self, he'd like to bathe on his own from now on.
They had finished and hooked his arms, pulling him up. They patted him down with a gentle towel and tugged a ritual garment over his head. It was a deep crimson as he had expected, etched with golden markings along its wide, draping sleeves.
The ritual space in which he had been placed glistened, draped in dim lighting reminiscent of rippling blood under moonlit skies. It was too dark to see much of anything but a circle of stones, whose centre point was none other than himself. Between each was a candle. One of the sisters of Karn held a large torch, having been lit by the sacred flame itself, and she carefully transferred the flame to each wick.
The ghostly chant they sang filled the air with a chill all too familiar. It felt like death, like birth, like the deep void of space. The flickering flames had finally illuminated the space, and he was able to see each of their faces. They were still, eerily so. He couldn't help but feel like a sacrifice rather than a patient.
A bark erupted from each of them. It echoed through the air like the howling wolves of Earth, the deep rumbling of a chasm breaking apart. The singing began, and the small group of women circled him. Their flowing garments swam through the night air as if weightless.
The Master steadied himself in the centre. He was sitting with legs apart, bare thighs against the cold rock below. His knees were bent on instinct, and he couldn't help but hold them, piercing his nails into the flesh, a soothing gesture. The song was reaching its climax, and with every inflection of the vocal cords, he felt his hearts pound quicker.
Suddenly, his robe was removed, and he was once again bare before the women. Before he was able to understand, heat trickled down his form. Head of the ritual, oldest and wisest of all, held a spout over him. A gold-like liquid fell from its lips and poured down his form. It dragged its lava against his flesh, spreading kiss-like burns along the sensitive flesh. Loving in its murder, devouring the sacrifice of his previous broken body and leaving a loving mirror in its place. It sank into the skin, through his bloodstream, toward the centre of his energetic being. The core of who he was. The liquid embraced and mended every ravine tearing through it.
He only knew he was screaming when he heard the noise, a raw guttural thing. The sisters, like a pack of hungry canines, howled along with him. His body pulsed with firelight, and in that firelight, he found the oddest comfort. It tasted of burning meat, his meat. It tasted of death...
As he fell into the jaws of the flames, he was reborn. The body he once called his, however brief, was rebuilt from the inside out. With a final shriek, the light dissipated, and he collapsed to the ground below. A ringing gong ended the ritual, and at once the dancing sisters crowded around him. Anticipation held every breath they exhaled. A hand wrapped around his wrist, four beats, an even pulse.
"Master?" they whispered, those ghosts of his. He fluttered his eyelashes apart to see them, but the apparitions weren't there; in their place were the awestruck faces of the sisters.
(Painted by me specifically for this chapter)
Chapter 2: Curiosity Of An Emperor
Notes:
I have finally finished chapter 2! It took me much longer than expected -_- You might notice I changed some tags, I decided to take this story in a different direction and move the ending to better fit the story instead of trying to force it into a narrative that didn't work as well, hopefully you all understand. I also added some tags I had completely forgotten (notice tentacles, lol).
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The pale control room stung his senses with a metallic bitterness. He always hated the default design of a TARDIS; painfully white. He would have it redesigned eventually, but for now, he focused on personalizing the controls and getting the hell out of there. The eyesore that was his 'going away basket' had been hastily thrown on top of the panel. He was surprised anyone cared enough to put one together. It included some new clothes, of which he was annoyingly grateful. Luckily, they had taste. The only problem was that it reeked of Gallifrey. A sleeveless crimson shirt befitting of the planet's temperate climate and baggy black trousers that looked straight out of his bachelor-era wardrobe, which were tucked into a practical pair of combat boots. The boots specifically reminded him of his post-graduation years, which were spent frying his brain cells and hiking Mount Perdition, hoping the crazy old nut at the top would give his life some meaning.
The whirring of the machine pulled him out of his memories. The mechanical inhale coursed through his veins; it tasted of sweet freedom. When it steadied, he ran to the door and swung it open. The vastness of space, speckled with stars. In the centre of this landscape painting lay Gallifrey. That lonely old planet was stuck down there while he soared through the abyss. His heart fluttered: anxiety, joy, and something he couldn't quite place. A tasteless nostalgia.
Suddenly, the TARDIS started up again, and the door slammed shut. He darted back to the control panel; it had set a course for itself. He had heard of a TARDIS having a mind of its own but had never seen it in action. He smacked the hard metal, "Don't start being defective, I just got you!"
The whirring stopped. With a groan, he returned to the door and tugged it open by the handle.
There was a heavy splash, then silence. His eyes instinctively shut, surrounded by water, which quickly cooled his body temperature. He heard a loud thump behind him and felt a hunk of metal slam against his back. He had been thrown into a liquid abyss. He swam desperately, turning toward the noise as he opened his eyes. Through the dark haze, he could just make out the exterior of the TARDIS, shimmering in the low light. Panic surged through his veins when, all of a sudden, he felt something slimy curling around his waist. He was thrown upward. Light streamed through the underside of rippling waves. They grew closer as the silhouetted creature pulled his body upward. Soon, he felt his head break the surface tension as he was thrown against a mass of minuscule crystals, sand as white as snow. The Master collapsed into its warmth. Luckily, he was always good at holding his breath, but his new outfit was quickly soaked.
He stumbled further onto the shore as he looked back into the depths of the sea he had escaped. A single eye, glistening a green-yellow, watched him from below the surface. Before he could say anything, a sharp pain invaded his skull. A ringing noise bounced along his brain. He clutched his head tightly, and slowly, the noise transformed into a ripple of words.
"Identify yourself."
The Master peeked between his hands at the creature watching him. It must have been some radio-like communication system. "Timelord."
The piercing voice inside his head began again, "Time-lord? Why are you moving your mouth?"
"Non-Aquatic alien, we don't generally use telepathy to talk."
The pupil of the large eye contracted, and twitching tentacles slid through the water. They curled around his ankles, securing a tight grip before pulling him in again. The Master grabbed the ground beneath him, but it was useless; it collapsed under his fingers, leaving him with handfuls of unhelpful sand. Luckily, he was able to take in a large breath before being submerged. The alien pulled him further and further from the sunlight, into the depths of the foreign ocean.
When he was finally released, he found himself pressed against a pearly, iridescent floor. The ringing was back, though now he heard multiple voices all calling out to one another. As his consciousness slipped, he heard the fog of the water release. A bubble formed around his head. The Master quickly gasped for breath and sat up.
Coral and coiled marble had built a palace around him. It shimmered as if it were made of a million liquid diamonds. The centrepiece of the room, a tall throne, housed a figure he assumed to be their leader. Bioluminescent flesh draped in inky black tentacles. They had eyes like eclipsed moons that fixed on him with the focus of a predator. The other voices stopped, and one, deeper and heavier, spoke up. "What is your business here, alien?"
He flashed a nervous smile toward the leader, "Travelling! My ship is somewhere out there. I was separated from it." He gestured out of the large arched doorway.
The leader watched him quietly for a moment before giving a slimy hand signal to their guards, rising and swimming toward him via a long, fish-like tail.
"I am Emperor Piifudeviidae. This is my sacred territory." Their massive form knelt to his level. "You are lost?"
The Master tried to keep his composure as the giant examined him with far too glossy eyes, "You could say that."
"Poor dear, you must be so frightened. I will have this fixed. My apologies for any physical damage caused by your handling. We were not aware you were a land dweller."
In all of his travels, he had never met an alien quite like this. Skin like translucent jelly that seemed to pulse with internal light caught his eye. His gaze trailed along the smooth surface of their shapely form, both masculine and feminine, which was draped in the long locks of their tentacle hair. A webbed hand reached for him, and he instinctively leaned away. There was a palpable pause. Seeing the disappointment on their face, he relaxed and allowed the leader's hand to invade his bubble and burrow in his hair. It had been soaked in the salty water, losing its usual scorched quality. Piifu, as he called them in his head, stroked the whitened locks tenderly. Their lips parted in fascination, yet only silence filled the room.
"It's hair."
The voice began again, "Hair, how beautiful. You are very...warm."
Piifu let their hand travel down his head until it reached his neck. The Master swallowed as their hand slid down his chest. The bubble followed their hand eagerly as it slid along his muscles. Eventually, it cupped his breast and flicked the hardened nipple. The Master made a noise to express his discomfort, and those eerie eyes darted to his face. "What is this?"
"I guess you don't--It's a Timelord thing, for feeding infants."
Piifu looked to his abdomen now, their hand following. "Please tell me you aren't carrying eggs."
The Master couldn't help but laugh. Not that it was particularly funny, just absurd. Why the hell was he sat here explaining Timelord biology? He wasn't lying when he said he didn't have a plan, but this was surely not the desired route. He swatted their hand away before Piifu could get too curious and stood to his feet as quickly as he could in the slow-moving water.
Piifu followed, revealing their true height, a staggering difference. "You may stay in the palace until your ship is found. Allow my lovers to care for you," they gestured to a group of creatures lying against mounds of soft coral. Some looked similar to Piifu, others radically different.
The group quickly approached and circled him like sharks. Their shimmering forms flashed by in quick succession, an opalescent hurricane.
The Palace was a living creature in its own right, a combination of coral, clams and anemones. The communities seemed to have a symbiotic relationship.
Luminescent nematocysts built a spherical bedroom around him. The Master had to wonder how aware the walls were of his presence. The 'lovers' had dragged him through many glassy corridors before sliding him through the nematocysts. They circled him, staring through translucent irises, as their fins wagged. A faint shrieking entered his mind. Too high-pitched to be words yet too specific to be anything else. When he didn't answer, a few of them dug into their bags and pulled out chunks of meat. They were held in front of his face with expectant looks.
"No thanks, I probably shouldn't eat raw anymore."
The Master pushed the food away with an awkward smile. They seemed confused, but didn't push. The shrieking continued. He was able to make out a few words, but not enough to form a sentence. When their attempts at communication failed, they hesitantly swam away, leaving him alone in what he assumed to be his quarters.
He'd hardly gotten started before being stranded again. This world was far better than the last, but even so, The Master didn't appreciate being lost. He'd blame it on his mediocre driving skills, a fact The Doctor always liked to tease him about, but that damn TARDIS was a better candidate. You'd think after this long in Gallifrey's history, they'd have improved them.
With nothing left to do but wait for his TARDIS to resurface, he decided to take a nap. Nuzzling his head into the soft flesh of the anenomie bed. Hopefully, the bubble containing his air supply wouldn't pop in his sleep.
You could be so beautiful
His brown eyes glistened under the amber sun, embracing the rich red of their uniforms. He didn't have to say it. The Master already knew what he meant. He always saw the best in him, even when it wasn't there, a consequence of their history. He couldn't hide anything; he'd see right through it.
His hands always felt the same, different skin, different bones, but always the same. They cupped his face, slotting into the space that was rightfully theirs, and stared with pained reverence. No kiss could replicate that stare. Only his eyes could do it justice.
He'd woken in a warm haze. His body heat had seeped into the surrounding water and formed a comfortable alcove. He lay there for a moment, waiting to fall back into the dream, until succumbing to wakefulness. With nothing better to do, he explored the expansive palace. Every hall was colder than the last, lit only by bioluminescent fish stationed atop petrified torches, leading him further astray. When he finally found an open space, he was greeted by the sight of Piifu's towering form. They leaned against the rocky balcony with a tense expression. When they finally noticed him approaching, they straightened up and pursed their lips.
Their baritone soundwaves echoed in his mind. "Alien!"
He smiled, "I'm not intruding, am I?"
He didn't really care if he was or not, but getting on their good side until he found his TARDIS was probably a smart move. Even if this wasn't his first choice of destination, it might have held some value to him.
Piifu shook their head hesitantly as The Master sat himself atop the railing next to them. After a silent moment overlooking their vast kingdom, they caught eyes. "You caught me at a bad time. I apologize."
He tsked, "Ah, don't sweat it." Their confusion was obvious. "I mean--I don't mind. You don't have to pretend, I know how stressful ruling can be."
They swam closer, placing themself before his crossed legs. "Were you a ruler in your land? Land of the...Time-Lords?"
He laughed suddenly, before masking it with a cough. A conflict arose within him. To lie or not to lie, neither choice seemed easy. Eventually, he decided on the simplest option, "yes."
Their eyes glimmered with a strange fascination as if seeing him from an entirely different lens. Their inky tentacles reached for his neck, placing their suckers along the sensitive skin of his collar bones as their mouth curved into a frightening smile. "You should have told me sooner. I was planning on asking you to join my lovers and I for our nightly feast."
The suckers removed themselves, leaving red rings in their place. One tentacle slid under his shirt to reach his chest. Its slimy movements shocked his senses, forcing a gasp from his lips. "And what's the problem with that?"
Their grin deepened, "In this world, it's rude. To reduce a ruler to one's pet is highly disrespectful."
As much as he hated submittance in any ordinary situation, one night in a faraway land could be an exception. After such a stressful journey, maybe he deserved a bit of fun. Besides, how could he resist a creature such as this?
"As long as I retain your respect, I see no issue."
Their piercing gaze reduced him to a hypnotic state with a glance. The tentacle slithered down his torso until it reached the hem of his trousers. "Then to respect such a beautiful stranger, I must. You will be rewarded for your willing sacrifice."
All doubt of their intentions dissipated as it invaded his briefs and coiled around his cock. He tried not to react, but that was an impossible feat. The first stroke reduced him to a mumbling mess.
This was strange; he'd never been so desperate as to melt under another's touch like this. Sure, he'd been needy; any one of his past partners could attest to that, excluding the backstabbing "wife" of Harold Saxon, but never desperate. Yet now, he felt a tender ache burn within him at every delicate touch. Every suck like a kiss, every wave like a whisper, calling to him through the vast ocean.
He hissed at the prick of the sucker's as they clung to his hips before slowly pulling away. They trailed up his abdomen as if searching for something. "Where is your...Siphon? I assumed that was it, but the opening is too small."
The Master paused as he tried to make sense of their alien understanding. Siphon? Oh. He tried to hold his laugh before gently grabbing one of them and guiding it between his legs again. He pressed it tenderly against his opening, ignoring the irregular beat of his hearts. It had been a long time since he'd done this. Never enough time, too much. A sensation haunted by memories of his youth, stuck in a glass dome that stained the feeling. He tried to breathe, to focus, and to succumb to a new experience. But the taste of submission weighed heavy on his tongue. Looking in their eyes, though, his body relaxed. What harm could it do? It wasn't like anyone here would remember him.
"Here, just don't impregnate me or whatever your species does; this body doesn't have a uterus."
At the sight of their confused expression, he became strangely aware of this body's faults. Not that he wanted to get pregnant, fuck no, he was not the type, but a vagina sounded really nice right now. Regardless, Piifu didn't question it. Two other tentacles tugged down his trousers as the first lubed itself up. It slid inside an inch with a force that had The Master gripping the rocks beneath him, to not fall into the landscape behind them.
Just as he had remembered. That warm, full feeling that sent stars through his inner walls. They thrust again, sliding a sucker inside. The Master threw his head back with a moan, curving his back to accommodate the smooth Hectocotylus forcing its way inside of him. Each invading sucker left a kiss that fluttered through his system. Rings of sparkling ecstasy.
They coiled around his middle, exploring every inch of him. He pressed his thighs against Piifu's tail, which swam into he space his trousers left behind. They were cold and slick against his warmth, leaving him in a welcome loneliness. He embraced the cold as it invaded his every sense. Thrusting in time with every beat of his hearts.
He felt the ghost of breath along his neck. The whisper of a name he hadn't used in a long time. Memory invaded the present. Its kisses tasted bittersweet. He knew what it was, but refused to acknowledge it. He forced his body against Piifu's, head nuzzling against their jaw. He felt them prodding at his mind. He wondered if they felt the pain that had etched itself into the fibres of his being. The radiowaves began again, "I could care for you, if you are not...if you have not found balance."
Whatever had wrapped itself around his hearts tugged awfully, digging into the red flesh with its barbed-wire teeth. He was fine on his own.
As much as The Master tried to stop it, the memories flooded him. Let me help you...
He tightened his thigh's grip and rolled his hips against the invading tentacles. Maybe enough physical stimuli would drown it out. For a moment, he was successful, until the icy slickness became warm blood. Bony hips blanketed by different thighs, a different body, but the same mind. He could still remember the look of skin against skin, his umber tan draped along alabaster, tinged with red sweat.
Void-like pupils pulsed him back into the present. The Master forced a smile and nuzzled deeper into them. Piifu seemed satisfied with that answer. Their Hectocotylus slid in and out of him in a cruel rhythm before thrusting deeper and pressing against his inner walls, hitting the perfect spot, eliciting gentle moans from his lips. Heat sparkled along The Master's cock. He was so close, if he could just focus...
Irises of deep brown bore into his hazel. They hung in his mind with the whispers, you could be so much more...so much...
He felt the tears as they trickled down his cheeks before knowing why they'd arrived. This alien sea didn't do him the kindness of hiding them. Luckily for him, that didn't stop his body from reaching its breaking point. He melted into Piifu; intimacy was a great mask for hiding one's face. He let himself moan against the soft skin as the evidence of his enjoyment joined the sea. He lay there for a long moment, not daring to sit up. Finally, he felt Piifu's concern gently enter into his mind, diverting his focus, "Are you frightened?"
His laugh came out weak in this state. He kissed the shoulder beneath him tenderly, "hush."
Notes:
In case it wasn't clear, Piifu asks if he's frightened because they thought he inked lmao. I'm having too much fun with alien sex. Also, this was planned to be longer, but I decided to put the last bit into Chapter 3 instead. Anyway, hope u enjoyed! xx