Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Day 1 - Masturbation / Orgasm Control - Doctor/Master

Day 2 - Kidnapping - Clara/Missy

Day 3 - Threesome - Doctor/Master/Jack Harkness

Day 4 - Voyeurism / Hypnosis - Doctor/Master/Jack Harkness

Day 5 - Finger Sucking / Dacryphilia - Eighth Doctor/Roberts!Master

Day 6 - Outdoor Sex / Intoxication - Tenth Doctor/Martha Jones

Day 7 - Blindfolds / Bloodplay - Eighth Doctor/Roberts!Master

Day 8 - Cages - John Smith/Professor Yana

Day 9 - Exhibitionism / Shibari - Jack Harkness/The Master

Day 10 - Oral Sex / Punishment / CNC - Doctor/Master

Day 11 - "Come Licking" / Handcuffs - Doctor/Jack Harkness

Day 12 - Kneeling - Ninth Doctor/Rose Tyler ("Bad Wolf")

(Following days to be added)

Chapter Text

“Well, I won’t stop you.”

The Doctor made a sound in the back of their throat, as their hand moved, back and forth, consistent as the ocean waves. They didn’t do much to muffle it; they stayed closed off when having time like this, as well as they could, anyway, and they were only imagining the other figure behind them. A husky, familiar old voice in their ear, maybe his hand on their thigh, that glimmer in his eye as his gaze darted between their working hand and the expression on their face.

“But you want me to stop you, don’t you?” The husky voice chuckled, and they let out a soft groan as they imagined a gentle squeeze of his hand over their skin. “Ohh, you love it when I make you wait. When I tell you no, not yet, because it can be even better. And you know I’m right, don’t you, Doctor?” Maybe the other hand in their hair, or on their throat, now. “So don’t stop touching. Come on, more, I know you can wait.”

They tilted back their head slightly, into the hypothetical hold, groaning low and loud as they thrust into their own hand. They could see his sly, smug grin, the lavishing of the power that was always so him. “Master,” they said.

“Oh, I love it when you say that.” His hands would tighten if they did, and so they thrust faster, squeezing, tense. “Say it again.”

“Master!”

“Good. Good, Doctor, you’re so good. Keep going, maybe I’ll let you come if you keep being so good.”

“Master, yes, please!”

Squeezing hands, breaths against their neck, sinister chuckles in their ear, maybe little nips, brushes over their nipples and ghosting along their own moving hands, everything, more, more, closer, the tension mounting, the need doubling and tripling and–!

“Not yet, Doctor, not until I say so. Be good for me.” As if it was the easiest thing in the world. Smug bastard. Smug, sly, minxy, handsome, gorgeous–!

“Master!”

“Yes…”

“Masterrrr… stars, please…!”

“So close, just one more time for me–!”

“Doctor?”

Feeling a cold shock through their body, the Doctor came starkly back to reality, blinking and pausing with their hand still between their legs. Shyly, they looked over at the door–it had been closed before, but had now swung open–to see the Master standing there in his usual dark colors, staring in at them. It only took a few seconds for the realization to dawn on his face, a smile spreading across his face like melting butter. “Having some fun, are you?” He chuckled, meeting their eyes with a gleeful coyness. “Well, I won’t stop you.”

Chapter Text

“Well, you can’t really blame me, dear, can you?”

Based on the scowl on Clara’s face, it was quite clear that she could, and did, blame Missy for the current predicament.

“Listen, you can’t blame me for wondering,” the Time Lady justified, circling Clara where she still sat on the bed (where she’d woken up, so confused and rattled, poor dear, although at least every material was nice). “I’m ever so curious what the Doctor sees in you little things, and you’re the most available one that I’ve been able to tolerate.”

“So you snatch me!?”

“Yes, of course! Last I checked he didn’t nail you down, he practically handed you to me.” Missy was quite satisfied with her own humor, although the human, of course, still had that grumpy look on her face. “Oh, don’t be like that. Think of it as another change in scenery. Just another wondrous adventure blooming from being a companion of the great and incredible Doctor!”

“Yeah, and I’d much rather be back with him, thanks.”

The Time Lady paused for a moment, resting her hands on her hips as she thought. Then, slowly, she approached the bed. Even when Clara skittered away from her uncertainly (hm, Missy hadn’t taken her for a nervous creature), she stayed calm and smooth, sitting on the very edge of it.

With the utmost care, she removed her brooch from her collar, placing it very delicately on the floor beside her feet. This was her TARDIS; it would take good care. “It would be kind if you could give me a chance, you know. The Doctor did.”

Clara scoffed, staying turned away. “Well, I doubt you ever kidnapped him.”

“Oh, plenty of times! And I was much harsher than this, you know, full tables and leather restraints…”

“Sounds a bit James Bond.”

“Darling, who do you think inspired such homoeroticism? Why do you think the villain in the first movie is a Doctor?”

Clara laughed, but then cut off, as if the consideration really set in. Missy had to suppress a snort. There was a long quiet moment, wherein there was only the sound of shifting fabric.

Clara turned to look over her shoulder. “Well, too bad for you, I’m not as into– ah!”

Missy’s jacket had been discarded, leaving her sitting calmly on the bed in a smart, shaped white blouse. “What,” she nudged with a smile and a shrug. “Can’t a lady get comfortable in her own TARDIS?”

Clara, silly and stubborn little Clara who was never content to be quiet, scrunched her face immediately. “Do you think you can just get away with this?! Just bringing me along like some kind of luggage for a holiday?”

As she made her demands, Missy calmly pulled a few tight bobby pins and dark ribbons, shaking her hair out of its tamed, prim and proper style. Meeting those big, dark, youthful eyes, without blinking, Missy shrugged a shoulder, foxy smile still snug on her face. “I think I can, yeah,” she answered in a low voice, and saw a twitch of interest on the human’s face. “You’ll grow used to me, dear. Trust me. I’m a bit more…” She winked and clicked her teeth, resisting a giggle at Clara’s surprised blink. “Adventerous, I suppose, than the Doctor would let you be.” Raising her hand and seeing the human tense, she hovered it a few centimeters from her cheek (warm, but not warm enough. Always cold in comparison, always). “I think that would suit us both better… don’t you?”

Despite herself, there was a spark of intrigue in Clara’s eyes, a touch of rebellion just past what the Doctor would allow. She loved humans that had that, far and few as they were. It was something she could grab onto with both hands, yank them along by, tie them up in until she could press the right buttons with just a few words. Oh, she could almost imagine it now, her Clara, calling after her, screaming, begging, moaning, crying, clinging to her dress, glaring at her in pure rage and cursing her name. It would never be as thrilling as the original, of course, but it would be enough. Just enough.

Clara finally scoffed. “I’m not interested in suiting you."

Sweet lies. Missy smiled, staring her right in the eyes, watching her struggle not to look away, to hide the fear. If only she knew. Fear was the biggest turn-on since leather. “We’ll see, dear,” she said, and just ghosted her hand along the human’s cheek as she stood. She pretended not to see the shudder out of the corner of her eye.

She’d grow used to it, the darling.

Chapter Text

“You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it, Doctor.”

The Doctor laughed breathlessly. The Master wasn’t wrong, but still, it wasn’t the kind of thing they actually thought would happen. Not soon, anyway.

“Probably not this soon,” Jack guessed with a smile and a laugh. Unsurprising; Jack often knew the Doctor better than both of them thought. Always so casually, too; he said this with a grin while running his hands over their stomach, waist snug between their legs. “I mean, just yesterday we were ready to kill each other.”

“And we’ll be ready again tomorrow,” the Master added, caressing the Doctor’s neck with one hand, laying more at their side. “But today… well, maybe we wanted to do something special for you.”

As if they’d rehearsed it, on the word ‘special’, Jack softly prodded at the Doctor’s underwear, making them gasp in surprise. The Master, ever the opportunist, tugged their lip down further with his thumb. He watched their expression eagerly, hand firm on their neck to keep them facing him as Jack’s lips pressed in the middle of their chest, below their ribline, above their belly button, pushing down, down…

“Just for you,” the Master went on in that smooth, honeylike voice of his. Creeping closer, until his smirking mouth almost touched the Doctor’s lips, open in gasps as Jack eagerly mouthed at them through the underwear. “For being so kind to us both. So helpful. So– a-AH! Ahhh…”

The Doctor smirked, feeling the Master’s words melt, as they’d managed to slip their hand between his legs as well. They rubbed, slowly but firmly, without mercy; just as the pair had descended upon him.

Jack’s mouth lifted as he laughed. “Hah! Wow, I wish I could shut him up that eas–”

His smile fell and eyes widened when the Doctor’s other hand darted down to tangle in his hair. When their eyes met, both of their pupils were dilated, and Jack felt his breath shorten. “Don’t you dare stop,” the Doctor breathed in a husky voice, sending a shiver down Jack’s spine. With a renewed appetite, the human dove back down, hands eagerly sliding up the Doctor’s sides.

Breathlessly, the Doctor laughed. Their favorite Time Lord and oldest friend whorishly grinded against his hand, as their favorite human eagerly worshipped between their legs. What more could they ever want?

Chapter Text

“John?”

Of all the reasons Jack thought Harry might’ve called him over so quickly, and been so grumpy when he arrived, John’s presence was not on his list.

There was a moment of silence between the trio, with Jack staring at John, Harry off to the side (funny, considering they were in his bedroom), and John looking… sad. Oddly sad, with those big eyes and constant dearness.

Every other time they’d seen each other, it’d been a happy occasion, even if John did get that far-off melancholy look sometimes. This, combined with Harry’s insistence over the phone, and a general gut feeling, had Jack shifting his weight back towards the door. “What is this,” he asked cautiously.

“I told him,” Harry said coldly, and the words sucked every bit of air out of the room. “Everything. Who you are, who you work for, why you’re here.”

“Stop scaring him,” John whispered harshly, but it was too late for that. Jack had felt his heart drop, and it sat like a cold stone in his stomach as he took a physical step back.

“John, I can explain,” he insisted.

“Jack–” John turned with the same sharpness he addressed Harry with, but softened as soon as their eyes met. “Jack, you don’t have to explain anything, I promise.”

Jack’s doubt must have shown clear in his eyes; the other two could see it, at least, the fight or flight instinct debating in his head, the wolf about to dark into the trees or run back to the pack for help, howling all the way.

John crossed the space between them, took Jack’s head in his hands, and kissed him.

It was intense, at first, overwhelming in the contrast of uncertainty or fear. It only took a moment, though, to lessen into softness, and then a type of warmth. Jack wasn’t sure how, but it felt reassuring. Slow. Gentle. It wasn’t angry or disappointed or betrayed, nothing; it was calm, content assurance, like the grace of an angel. It almost made him want to laugh.

And it was such a relief. God, he’d been so scared. So terrified of another secret getting out, another comfort being destroyed. It had happened so many times now, the fear felt normal, a part of it, a part of life. How soothing it was to realize he didn’t have to worry, that it was okay, that he still wanted him, that he was safe now.

He could relax.

It felt good to relax.

“I hate how good you are at that.”

The Doctor’s brow furrowed as they exhaled, glancing at the Master for just a moment. “Perhaps it’s because I don’t go the brute force route like you do.”

The other creature scoffed, half-smirking. “My route works fine. Here, give him to me, I’ll show you he thinks it’s fine–”

The Doctor wrapped their arms around the human’s figure, softened like an overripening fruit. Half-caught in trance, Jack’s eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned quietly into the touch. “No,” the Doctor said.

The Master scowled. “What do you mean, ‘no’.”

“No! You had your chance, and you were cruel to him. You scared him. Now you don’t get him. You get to stand there and watch.”

“Oh, don’t be like that! I was only having some fun.”

“And now, I get to have some. If you don’t like it, you shouldn’t have done that. Go on, find a chair.”

The Master groaned, but did so, glancing around until he found something close enough, a velvet stool that sat by the vanity. He dragged it over as the Doctor situated Jack on the bed, murmuring sweet nothings all the way.

“This’ll feel good, I promise,” they were saying, holding Jack’s sweet face with one hand, unbuttoning his shirt with the other. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

“Is this really necessary?” The Master complained, putting his head in his hand. “Just erase his memory, or turn him into a blank slate, or whatever boring other thing you want to do.”

The Doctor gave a withering glance over their shoulder, but then, something sparked in their eye, and they turned back. “Seems someone isn’t having a good time,” they sighed, almost mocking; the Master could imagine the pouty lip. “And feels the need to whine about it. Come here, Jack, turn this way– that’s it, perfect, following my hands. Good boy. Feels good to follow along, and get your praise.”

The Master rolled his eyes, keeping his gaze starkly away.

“Why don’t you and I give him something to look at, if he wants to be like that about it?”

“I’m not being like that, I just don’t understand why we’re wasting time–!”

As he turned back to look, the Master’s words died as if they’d hit a brick wall.

Jack sat on his knees, shirt unbuttoned and nearly, but not quite, falling off his arms. His chest and scars on full display, his jeans unbuttoned and pushed down enough to expose the waistline of his boxers. Most scandalous of all, that expression on his face; the glazed-over eyes of one beneath a powerful being’s influence, but the body language and smile of one who couldn’t help but be enjoying it. Filthy, lustful humans. So easy to touch things in their brains and make them malleable. Still, were they any better, putting him on display like this? Could they blame a doll for the way it was posed?

Jack’s smile twitched into a smirk, and as he breathed, his arms shifted, the shirt sleeves falling down to expose his strong forearms.

“Veeeerrrry good, Jack,” the Doctor drawled, emerging from the shadows behind him to hang on his shoulder and whisper in his ear. The human visibly shivered, his breath trembling as it left. “Very pretty.”

It was the helplessness, that was it, the whorish submission that the fool had to give in to. That was what the Master hated, that was what he couldn’t understand, what he glared at with fascinated eyes as sweat gathered on his neck. A toy that the Doctor refused to play with. Oh, how he wanted to grab it with both hands, squeeze it around the neck, be rid of all that softness! Bend him, break him, then watch him whimper when the burning touch pulled away. Make him yearn, beg, and if he ever resisted, feed him little touches of that softness until he was lured back in. Push, pull, grab, dig the fingernails in, be cruel, be kind, be cruel again, again, again.

He needed it.

The Master stared at the human’s eyes. It wasn’t hard; they were so wonderfully blank, after all. Why don’t you look at me, now, he hissed into the human’s head. That’s it, stare just like that into the pretty colors…

“Stop it,” the Doctor hissed, covering the human’s eyes (he made a soft sound of confusion, poor thing). “Don’t yank him back and forth, it’ll confuse him.”

“Not if we agree, my dear,” the Master retorted, standing up and reaching to touch his fingertips to the soft underside of the human’s chin. “Not if we’re both telling him he feels so good, so soft and sweet for us, doesn’t he? Good boy, precious thing, weak little human…”

The whore, of course, made a pathetic sound in the back of his throat, the covers of the bed tightening as he grasped onto them.

“Come on,” the Master prodded, gazing at his paramour with his signature grin and tilt of his head. “We can both share some fun, can’t we?”

The Doctor hesitated, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You’d have to be nice to him.”

“I can be nice.” As if to prove it, the Master turned back, pulling Jack closer with a light flex of his hand. “I can be very nice. Soak into the cracks of your head, sweetheart, push on all the parts that make you feel so good. Feeling such pleasure, pleasure as sweet as you are, honey, flooding over your skin, over your brain, until it’s all you can think about—“

“Master,” the Doctor warned.

But the blank startled weakness in the human’s eyes was addicting, that trembling, needy lip, the soft sounds getting caught in that throat. Giddiness only sweetened the Master’s tone. “That’s right, Jack, human, darling, no more thoughts in that silly little head, you don’t need them! You just let us do everything for you, tell you everything you need to know. No more thoughts.”

“Master!”

“No more willpower.”

“Stop—!”

“Just obedience.” He was holding Jack’s head in his hands now, forcing the human to look at him, when had that happened? Not that the pretty thing looked upset in the slightest, no, he was breathing heavy, staring with a gorgeous half-lidded gaze, flushed, relaxed but needing. “Surrender yourself, it would feel so good to give in to me completely. My sweet, obedient pet. It’s all you can think about. It’s all you need. Giving in, human, giving in to me, yes, say it, say my name, say who’s making you feel so good, so deep in your head.”

“Master.”

“Yes.”

It didn’t matter if the Doctor shoved them apart. The Master cackled, giggled, really, at the feeling of a human’s small head in his hand, able to be stroked and punished and changed at will. Such a threat before, made into a precious, darling pet. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Doctor. Isn’t this what you wanted? To find a humane solution?”

The Doctor huffed, resting a gentle hand on Jack’s side. The human leaned back against the Doctor, but his loyal gaze was still fixed on the Master, waiting to be told what to think, how to feel. Such handsome obedience, it always looked the best on the fiery ones. “This isn’t humane, Master. You’re erasing them.”

“And they love it when I do.” He smiled at Jack as he said it, and the helpless human whimpered at the tug on the invisible string.

“That’s enough. Let go of him, now.”

The two stared intensely at each other for a long moment, a quiet battle of wills. Then the Master chuckled, opened his arms, and watched in delight as the Doctor physically pulled Jack back from falling into them.

“Looks like you’ll have to make me, Doctor.”

Chapter Text

“I already agreed you were right, Master, please!”

The figure standing there considered, his sunglasses making his expression painfully hard to read. The Doctor was grasping onto his jacket, almost white-knuckling the leather between their fingers, red eyes darting frantically between the other man’s face and neck. The Master was thinking, and taking his time doing it. He knew the Doctor’s ‘agreement’ was only out of desperation, a condition they’d inflicted upon themselves quite foolishly. If they were in their right mind–if they’d eaten, the fool–they’d still be pouting at him, insisting on rejecting anything he offered. It felt cruel, but… perhaps this was a chance to teach them, to finally get them to take care of themself, properly. If it was going to be a lesson, though, he’d have to have no inhibitions about making sure they remembered it.

Well, he thought as a wicked smile bloomed over his face. The Doctor could do with a firmer hand every now and then. Especially if it was for their benefit.

“Oh, Doctor,” he crooned, stroking their soft, waving hair. “Of course, of course. I’ve been so mean to you. Of course I’ll help you.”

They laughed, almost fell into him in relief, and he held their weight for a moment before easing them back down into the velvet chair they’d been sitting in. Running his hand over their face one more time to soothe them, he smiled almost like an angel… before bringing his free thumb to his hand, and piercing it with a single fang.

The Doctor’s relieved smile dropped, a look of suspicious confusion crossing their face. “Master, what are you–”

“Shush,” he demanded immediately, pressing the bloody thumb to their lips. He took just a half a second to enjoy the way their pupils dilated. “You need to learn, Doctor.”

Bottom lip trembling, he could see them fighting not to snap, the strain making tears well up in their eyes. “I… I already s-said…”

“I know, I know,” he sang, still nudging teasingly. “And I’m feeding you now, aren’t I? Go on. Go on, open up, come on.”

Still shuddering like a flower in the autumn breeze, the Doctor stared up for a long moment before slowly parting their lips. The moment the sweet blood touched their tongue, their resolve snapped, and they eagerly pressed their tongue against the wound. After a mere few seconds, when that wasn’t enough, when it felt the blood might lessen even a little, they desperately changed tactics, trying to pull as much sweetness from him as they could. The Master smiled in triumph as they grasped at him, pulling his pointer finger into their mouth, suckling the soft flesh. He caressed their hair, encouraging, whispering soft things they could barely register in their desperation. Go on, go on, go on.

And finally, the masterpiece bursting into beauty. Their adorable teeth pierced the soft pads of his fingers, just a nip, just enough to get it flowing. Humming like a cat, a kitten who had never fed before, they drank the saltiness from his skin.

The Master all but beamed, a smile cracking his face in two. Happy tears dripped down the Doctor’s face, filling the other’s chest with warmth. Yes. Tear and cry, relish in the pleasure that I can give you, that I will lead you to conquer on this cold, dark planet.

He nudged his fingers down their throat, and basked in the sobbed needing sound.

Chapter Text

It was a beautiful night, the kind where it seemed as if the stars had banished every cloud only to flaunt their own beauty, where the moon lit up the sky almost as clear as if it was day, casting everything caught by its light in a silvery glow. Down in the city, the lights glimmered, especially in the highest tower, where a dinner party had just been hosted. Even on the highest balconies, in a place like that, the stars couldn’t be seen. However, a very long walk away, where the city became miniature and rolling hills were given back to soft grass and wildflowers, two figures laughed, slightly loosened by the drinks from the party far below.

They had spent a short while making fun of pretentiousness and glamor, but had dimmed into memory, conversation of favorite times and remember whens. She was laying atop him with her head on his chest, the Doctor’s pants unbuttoned, his shirt long since parted and slipped down his shoulders to enjoy the cool moonbeams. He stared at Martha’s body on his for a long time, the sequins of her maroon dress glimmering in the silver light.

“My favorite memory with us is when you decided to come with me.”

She laughed, the sound ringing just as divinely as the sight of the perfect moon above them.

“What? I’m being serious!”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am!”

“You’re just trying to flatter me.” Her smile was so beautiful, he thought, as entertained as it was. Eyes gleaming, dark and alluring. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get in my pants.”

She laughed at her own dramatization, and he giggled along with her, throwing his head back to release the sound to the sky. “Hahaha, I’m not, Martha, I’m really not. I mean, if anything, I’d be–haha–happy to get you in my pants, y’know?”

It was a dumb joke, but he wasn’t expecting her to stop laughing. Suddenly worried, the Doctor nearly felt one of his hearts stop as he turned his head to see her face. She was looking at him, not insult on her face, but something wide-eyed like a curious kitten. They stared at each other for a long moment.

Slowly, experimentally, Martha sat up. Her knees pressed into the dirt on either side of his hips, and she sat there, heels long discarded somewhere at the bottom of the hill. When the Doctor gave no protest, she ran her hands softly over his chest, short red nails faintly brushing his nipples and making him gasp sharply. The flush in their cheeks shifted, subtly, to something more strange and new. Just like that, as if the Time Lord’s psychic power had clicked into place, they were both on the same page.

Maybe it was the fuzziness of the celebratory drinks dashing their inhibitions away, or maybe it had simply been long enough. They worked together to get his pants off, but Martha only had to shift her dress a certain way, tying it up and back behind her. When he began to sit up, she stopped him with no words, just a hand on his chest to push him back down.

“Martha?”

She smiled, like some unknown goddess, and lifted herself up. Her hand caressed her hip, and hers his face, as she slowly lowered herself onto him.

“Martha.”

“Doctor.”

Chapter Text

“Of course I’m sure, dear. Have I ever led you astray before?”

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t know,” the Doctor reminded the stranger leading them along. They were struggling a little to keep up, for he was moving quite fast, and one hand was holding tight to his as the other struggled to keep the sheet around them. “Bad memory, if you’ll remember. Oh, that’s a bit of an ironic comment, isn’t it.”

“Ah, that’s right,” he mused. “Forgive me. But if you had your memory, you’d know I’ve never brought you the wrong way. There’s nothing more certain, dear, you can trust me.”

The Doctor had a strange feeling, but the entire night had been full of those. They were beginning to think the strange was quite normal.

“Where are you taking me, again? Apologies if you told me, I may have forgotten.”

He paused for a beat. “I did tell you,” he said, even though they had been quite sure he hadn’t. “I’m bringing you to one of the more comfortable hospital rooms. To get your bearings. I’ve even gotten you some food, your favorite.”

“I have a favorite?”

“Yes, of course. And I’ve gotten you plenty, just to make sure you recover well from this whole ordeal.”

“Quite the ordeal, yes,” they agreed, eyes still roaming the flickering-lighted hallways. “A brush with death… does it usually leave one a bit thirsty?”

“That’s common, yes,” their strange friend chuckled. “Ah, here we are.” He turned to a door suddenly, making them jolt a little, and opened it for them.

They met his eyes–or tried to, past the sunglasses. “Thank you… I-I’m so sorry, you did tell me your name. Did it start with an N?”

His face twitched. “Close. I’m the Master.”

Their eyes widened, for finally, something sounded familiar. “Master,” they echoed, almost giddily. “We’ve known each other a long time, haven’t we?”

He smiled, almost wickedly. “Why, yes.”

They spent a few seconds staring at him, trying to bring the memory back by mere force of will. Finding only frustration, they turned away with a scoff. “Oh, it’s like it’s just behind the curtain! It’ll come back to me any moment, I’m sure of it.”

“I look forward to it.” He gently ushered them in, a warm hand coaxing along their back.

The room was small and comfortable, but cold, with only a cot, an old storage locker, some unplugged machines, and… something in the corner…

“Don’t look at that,” the Master instructed as he brushed by, gently turning their shoulders towards the bed. “That was a little snack for me. You can have some of the scraps, if you want, but you usually don’t like that sort of thing.”

They let him turn them away, making their way over to the bed. “No, I… I don’t think I do, either.” They noticed that, despite the thinness of the cot itself, there were quite a few warm blankets piled on the edge of it, and they eagerly tucked their freezing-cold feet beneath them. “Where’s the food for me, then?”

“Right here, just a minute.” The Master went to the storage locker, and they didn’t follow his movement, as it would force their eyes over the something again. There was the sound of the metal locker door creaking open, then a deep breath and… a sound. It took them a moment to place it, and by the time they had, he was returning to them. The sound of slicing flesh.

“Master?”

He knelt in front of them, tucking a switch knife into a belt loop. Opening his hand, blood emerged from the slice he’d made on his palm, tracing the lines of his hand like rivers and streams off the ocean.

And for a moment, it felt wrong, but what was worse was they understood. The scent filled the space, and a kind of horror filled them, a realization. Humans didn’t drink blood. They hadn’t thought they were human, had they? Humans didn’t think blood smelled good. Humans didn’t kill things to feed each other. Wait, they did do that, but not like this. The smell was making it hard to think, it was thick, metallic, shoving its way into their nostrils, and something in them was starving.

He cupped his hand to keep the blood in, but it wouldn’t take long to start leaking between his fingers. “It’s alright, Doctor,” he said in a smooth voice, lifting it slightly towards them. “I know it must be strange, if you don’t remember it. It’s alright, just a small taste, it’ll make you feel better.”

He looked… they didn’t know how to feel about it. There was a certain prettiness about it, that a part of them recognized, him in this position, trying to be… kind. Their hands ghosted along his.

“I-I don’t know,” they breathed.

He smiled, a kind of softness in it, and reached up with his other hand to cup the back of their head, the curls. A few rebel droplets stained the sheet they were wrapped in, rushing for escape. He tilted his head down as he stroked their hair, meeting their eyes over the top of his glasses.

“It’s alright, Doctor,” he assured them, voice almost… more melodious now, flowing like an old song. “I promise. You can trust me.” 

Their chest felt strange, heart…hearts thumping a bit more heavily, as if to a certain steady beat. It didn’t hurt, it just felt heavy, resonating. They didn’t know if it was in fear, excitement, or anything in between. He was their… friend, right? 

Their lip still trembled in uncertainty, but they let him coax their head down as he lifted his hand. Using both hands to keep the sheet around them, they lapped the pooling blood from his hand awkwardly, although he didn’t seem to mind.

“Mmmmph-!”

It tasted… strong. Very strong, although a bit silly to expect otherwise, wasn’t it? There was something familiar, they did not doubt they’d eaten it before. But it was different, something had shifted, a new tongue, new teeth.

What had not shifted was the hunger. They realized what he meant, that he’d been right, they were so hungry, parched, as if everything in their stomach had been burned. Tasting his blood was like drinking water after not realizing one hadn’t, and the need came surging over to gulp it down, mouthful by mouthful, until it could soothe their throat and forgetful, troubled mind.

Their hands forgot the sheets, rushing instead to grab his wrist and shoulder, yanking him closer. He lurched forward with a shocked grunt, then a laugh, watching them messily bury their lips and teeth in the pooled blood, scraping the lines of his hand with both, the red liquid staining their chin and the very tip of their nose. When the sheet slipped down, he used his spare hand to pull it back up one shoulder, but could not catch the other; and so it hung over their body like a toga, like a statue from Classical times. Before the idiot doctors and artificial florescents. They’d fit in there, he thought, elegant and gorgeous, divine but flawed. Perhaps, if they stayed in this state for much longer, he’d take them there. Leading them around with a hand over their eyes, his blood still ripe in their mouth.

“Doctor,” he said fondly, just to say it, to see their eyes flick up as his sacrifice dripped off their mouth as if they’d taken it themself. Violently. Righteously. He wished. But they’d get there. When they remembered, when they realized and inevitably, reasonably, lashed out. Oh, he couldn’t wait. The thought made him shiver with excitement.

For now, though, he watched them eat from his palms, looking forward to stroking their hair, telling them they loved him, and receiving a wide, innocent smile in return.

Chapter Text

Professor Yana and Professor Smith worked in close approximation to each other. If you asked either of them, they would eagerly sing the others praises, happy to muse about how pleasant it was to have each other’s company. They would not let slip a word about the late nights, the long glances, or the strange conversations they’d have. Over a glass of brandy, each had once admitted their strange fascination with the other’s heartbeat. With such ease, they existed with each other, despite the circumstances of their lives, so muddied as silt stirred up in a river, making bloom in the clearness an ominous cloud of gray.

There had not been such thing as a professor for a thousand years, but they so enjoyed calling each other such things no one had the heart to correct them. “The last two professors in the universe,” Smith would say, and Yana would softly chuckle and fondly shake his head.

It was a joke only between the two of them, though, and they were very particular. Once, somebody made a comment about the pair as professors being a dying species, and they both silently levelled the person with such a look that the visitor was advised not to come to the labs again any time soon.

Most could not stand working with them for long. Even Chantho, gentle as she was about it, grew tired of their discussions, of which everyone around them always felt a step behind, if they weren’t compliments being thrown back and forth– “You’re brilliant.” “No, you’re brilliant.” Chuckles and bashfulness like they were teenagers, even if they both felt so old.

“I’ve had longer to deteriorate,” the white-haired old man laughed.

“I’m not as young as I look,” the other retorted, and they both had the sense it was true.

Once or twice, when something stumped them, they talked about the strange emotions the end of the universe could invoke in humanity.

“Such strange dreams,” one would say.

“Of other worlds,” the other would agree.

“Do you ever get the sense that we’re meant to be somewhere else?”

“Perhaps… in another life. But these are the cards that’ve been dealt, I’m afraid.”

“It feels… awful. Stuffy and awful.”

“I know.”

“Do you suppose… no, never mind.”

“Tell me.”

“Do you suppose we’ll ever… get out there? Escape the cosmic cage?”

“Haha, you have such ways of saying things. …It’s a nice thought.”

“But you don’t think we will.”

“I never said that.”

“...”

“...”

“Suppose… it just means we should take advantage of what we have here, then. You know, just in case.”

“Do you suppose so?”

“Oh, yes.”

“...Would you…”

“Yes?”

“...get me another glass of brandy?”

“Sure. Of course.”

The hand tilted the old bottle, and poured into a waiting hand with an empty cup. Stopping at just the amount he liked to be served. 

“Thank you, John.”

“Of course.”

When he started turning away… a slightly colder hand clasped around his wrist.

“Yana?”

“...you’re very kind, did you know that?”

“Haha, you’ve told me.”

Oh, that smile, they both thought of each other.

“John, o-one more thing…”

“Mhm?”

“Would you… like to… would you consider spending the night in the lab? With me?”

“...Yana…”

“You can say no.”

“I-I know! I don’t… I wasn’t… going to.”

“Are you certain?”

“Of course I am, I…”

A pause. The bottle being set down, and the glass, and John easing down until he was nearly sitting in the other’s lap, just so that they were close enough to…

As the two kissed, awkward but not unhappy about it, acclimating to each other like memories emerging from a shadow, their matching pocket watches sat on a desk nearby, silent but screaming.

Chapter Text

“Ngghff–! Fuck, that’s tight–! Goddammit, do you have to do this?”

The Master rolled his eyes, pulling the slack rope tight enough to almost cut off circulation at the wrists. Even then, he narrowed his eyes at his work, and took the rope in his teeth to pull even tighter. “Yes,” he answered on his own time, casually as anything. “If I’m going to have something as freakish as you exposed to the public, I’ll at least do them the decency of having you tied up prettily.”

Jack swallowed, trying to test the give, and finding the complex knots would barely budge in any direction. “And… you have to show me to the public why?”

“Just a matter of control, freak,” the Master singsonged, brushing his hand along the back of Jack’s hair in a strangely soft way that made him shiver. “I mean, I only have a few possible martyrs to suppress. With all the rumors going around, the upstir… well, I figure it’s about time I remind them of exactly where one of their beloved leaders had ended up.”

“I wouldn’t say beloved,” Jack managed to snark, his grin clear in his voice even with the Master still stationed behind him. “I mean, even just within Torchwood, I’m more of a rising sta– Ah!”

He cut off as the Master painfully grabbed his hair and yanked back, making him hiss in pain. Holding him there for a moment, the Time Lord reached around with his other hand to threateningly stroke his thumb down the line of Jack’s windpipe. “You know, you really could be a bit pretty if you shut up.”

When Jack swallowed, the Master’s thumb shifted with the movement.

“You’re going to look very pretty tied up for all those people,” he went up, moving his hand from his throat to grasp his chin, forcing the human’s gaze up to meet his. “Aren’t you?”

Jack’s face twitched in disdain, his brows furrowing and jaw clenching in unspoken anger. A growl attempted to permeate the air, made brittle by the way his neck was craned, accentuated by the knots and ties forcing his back to arch and knees to stay bent. Prone, weakened, helpless. But still always so angry.

The Master wouldn’t have it any other way. Chuckling, he let go of the freak’s throat, and the hand on his hair moved down to yank him by the highest knot. “Along we go, freak,” the Master hummed, ignoring the grunts and kicks of protest. “I can’t wait for everyone to see my good work.”

Chapter Text

“Come on. Take it more, darling, I know you can.”

The Master tightened his grip on the Doctor’s hair, attempting to pull their head back, get them in the right position, to push more of his cock down their throat.

It didn’t help that the Doctor was resisting so much, angry tears welling in their eyes as they thrashed any way they could, refusing to take more than the head. With their hands tied behind their back and being forced to their knees, it was impressive they managed that much. Still, it nearly made the Master pause and reconsider.

“You mean you’re asking me to… do that to you?”

Holding his hands against their face, they’d nodded, looking at him with those sweet eyes. “I’ve… thought about it a few times,” they confessed. “I guess… I don’t know.”

It had felt like a strange thing to discuss, beneath dark space and stars, as if something greater could be listening. Perhaps that was part of why they’d chosen now to ask about it; it felt utterly cruel to even consider denying them.

“Perhaps I feel I’ve avoided comeuppance,” they guessed. “For what I did to you.”

He processed for a beat. “Doctor, I’ve told you, it–”

“I know,” they interrupted. “And, in a way, a lot of what we’ve become is… you know, my fault… it’s not as if I’ve avoided all consequences. But… I can’t shake the thought that if you were to… lash out at me… it’d give me some relief.”

The Master had thought about it, then nodded, stroking their cheek with his thumb, and pressing a peck against their forehead. “Let me think about it.”

“Of course.”

Now, of course, he’d had time to get comfortable with the idea. Still, though, the sight of them looking so desperate, so teary and almost in pain, gave him half a moment of pause. Not for long; they always knew him better than he’d like, and leaned their head into his hand for a second. Just long enough to remind him they were okay. The Master bit down hard on his own lip and toughened, tightening his hand and sliding back into the mindset of enjoying their beautiful suffering.

“Take it, my dear,” he hissed, yanking their head again and pushing his hips forward. “Such a small pleasure, even a pathetic one like you should be able to fulfill it.”

A couple of tears managed to slip down the Doctor’s face, small and imperfect like pearls. Giving in to a knee-jerk urge, the Master leaned down to kitten-lick one off of their face. It didn’t taste as salty as the ones from genuine emotional pain, more… balanced, something like refreshing, even. Relieved.

The Master looked down at them with half-lidded eyes, feeling an underlying wave of affection as he thought of every cruel thing they’d ever done to him.

“You’re going to pay, my dear Doctor,” he mused, finally getting their head at the right angle. “And I won’t let you run away this time.”

And, it was only because he knew them the best in all the universe, that he saw the glint in their eyes, that selfish glint they got when there was something they should deny themself, but couldn’t want more. I will hold you down, so that you have an excuse not to escape.

The Master shoved his cock down their throat, and felt the Doctor sing.

Chapter Text

“I didn’t think you’d like it this much,” the Doctor giggled, both out of amusement and the tickling feeling of Jack’s tongue against his neck.

The human was clearly enjoying himself. His hands had been kept behind his back by cuffs all night, and even now, when he was so worked up he could barely think, he didn’t ask for them off. He just strained and enjoyed, digging his teeth and tongue into the Doctor’s neck until they spoke. 

“Mmm…” He finished his lapping at the Doctor’s warm skin before replying with his mouth still inches from their throat. “Yeah. Old guilty pleasures die hard.”

“Yeah,” they echoed, elongating the word slightly. They hooked the chain between the cuffs with their finger and tugged lightly, chuckling at the soft sound from Jack’s throat. His thighs were opened just enough for the Doctor’s knee to press in, keeping the pressure, just stimulating enough to keep him on the edge as aftershocks of other activities took turns pulsing over his skin. “Go on, Jack, I didn’t say stop.”

He made another sound at the soft command, and went back to lapping at their skin, grip tightening when they shifted their knee a bit.

“There you go,” they mused, voice sweet and sexy as they tugged on the cuffs again, forcing Jack to push his hips forward while his shoulders were dragged back by the wrists. He whined at the struggle. “I can tell, you’re almost there, aren’t you? Go on, go on…”

Eager and needing, Jack moved faster, rubbing desperately on the Doctor’s leg. When that wasn’t enough, when the whines against their shoulder became long and frustrated, they quickly replaced it with their hand, and hummed in pleasure at the immediate re-quickening. They moved with him, stroking, rubbing, whispering sweet nothings until he was ready. They talked him up, up, up, more, more, more, closer, yes, now–

When he came, his face was buried in the Doctor’s neck, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in gasps, and his tongue pressed to their precious flesh.

Chapter Text

What was the difference between being a goddess and being akin to one? Did it make someone a goddess if a lord knelt at her feet?

She looked glorious. It was difficult to look at her, it made tears well in his eyes, like staring at the sun. But he couldn’t help but want to, who wouldn’t want to?

Rose held the power inside her, and it suited her, and he hated that. He hated how beautiful her glowing eyes were, how much he wanted them fixed on him. It felt deeply right to kneel in front of her, letting her cradle his head and murmur, “It’s alright, Doctor, I’ve got you now.”

That wasn’t the problem, it wasn’t alright… something had happened, something terrible, and yet here she was comforting him. Trying to gather himself, he pressed a brief kiss into her leg, first at the knee, then up to her thigh. Her skin was warmer, now, almost burning hot, but he pressed his cheek against it, feeling it soothe like running water. 

“Doctor,” she mused, “My Doctor.”

It had stopped hurting, she said, a while ago. But she still felt divine, faintly not her. Rose Tyler was not supposed to be able to feel the turn of every second, in every universe, through past and present and future. The Doctor was not supposed to feel his hearts ache, yearning to cling to someone he adored so much, finally understanding what it was like.

He was supposed to protect her.

“It’s alright, Doctor… come here…”

And what was he if he didn’t? Only a priest to a goddess.

She pulled him closer, always closer. No matter what, no matter how many times they clashed or shoved each other away… they always found their way back.

She let him kneel between her legs, and he’d damn himself if he didn’t worship.