Chapter 1: Warm Welcome
Chapter Text
An empty feeling of smugness is what fills the void as the Master wakes up. Before he hears anything- or anyone else. Before any raging drumbeat filled his ears, in disjointed harmony with the high-pitched beeping of a hearts monitor somewhere above him.
“Hey, hey, hey. There we are. Ohhhh, there we go. Good morning!”
Oh, ohhh no. Uh oh. The Master hates being on the receiving end of that tone of voice from the Doctor, and the implication of it... Eyes shoot open, and the Master is gasping like he’s back from the dead…
He sits up haphazardly on one elbow, blinking hard. Greeted with the Doctor’s face just above him.
His eyes are bright, but his smile is disconnected from them. The Doctor scans over the Master as he huffs and puffs air back into his system below where he hovers.
The sonic comes out, light blaring into the Master's bleary eyes. It moves. He follows the light, face screwed up.
Where... Is he? Is he in the TARDIS?
“That’s right, Master. Stay with me this time. Good, good…”
“… I’m... I'm alive...? I’m alive?" the Master finally says. It didn’t seem like nearly as big of a deal to the Doctor.
He’s alive. He’s in the TARDIS, and alive, and with the Doctor, and all at once there’s a great sinking feeling of dread that drags the Master further down into the medical bed.
“I’m alive?”
Meanwhile, two words keep playing through the Doctor’s head.
I win.
I win. I win I win I win I win. I win. I win. I win.
The only two left. And it was nearly thrown away over what? Another petty argument?
He didn't win.
The Doctor won.
It shows as much in his smile.
It took a lot of work, getting them here. But it worked. It worked, it worked, it worked, and the Master is still alive and in front of him and the Doctor wins. He's thrilled enough to send the Master's hackles up immediately.
“You are. You were slipping again, for a moment there. Got scary. But I know you, Master. If there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s coming back from the dead..."
Despite the overly-fond tone of voice, Doctor is staring him down. Pushing away the flashbacks of vermilion blood on his hands from the bullet wound, blood that stained the TARDIS, and dried on his hands and arms, and took ages to scrub out after the Master was finallyfinallyfinally finally alive and stabilized. The Doctor comes back to the medical bay in the present moment. Eyes coming back into focus to settle onto the Master struggling to even begin to sit up properly. "... You're lucky. You almost didn't make it this time."
Still, the Master is grunting, impatiently waiting to regain feeling in both arms as he pushes with his legs to prop himself against the wall. It’s like he’s trying to make a show of it. The Doctor sighs. “You're only hurting yourself when you try to move like that when you’re not ready..." he says, with all the energy of a man who's explained this a hundred times already.
The Master doesn't listen, pushing up on his hands with a grunt and falling back onto his elbows. He winces, trying to hide the sharp hiss at the feeling. But despite the dizziness, despite the pain shooting up an arm, he didn't want to be laying down while the Doctor looms over him.
"Oh, I’m lucky? Ah- Am I lucky? Or- gh- Or is it lucky for you? Feels lucky for you..." the Master hisses out, ignoring the Doctor's advice about moving.
It's difficult to hold himself up. His shoulders shake. There are sharp exhales through his nose. Trying to hide that he's catching his breath. The monitors beside him give it away, though, betraying his racing hearts. The Master is starting to gain recognition for the various screens on one side of the bed, and the two IV drips on the other. He’s not quite ready to be alive yet. But they’ve moved past the need for blood packs, despite the Doctor still keeping a few handy. The first night of the Master’s revival, he’d nearly passed out just from the sheer amount he took from himself.
The Doctor sighs, rolls his eyes as he walks around above him with ease, watching the Master try to push his body. Last time he woke up, he made a mistake and told the Master he’s still too weak to exert himself like this. It only resulted in him crumpling as he tried to walk right out of the bed to prove a point. He’d regretted waking him up entirely. He must not remember. Maybe this time could learn for himself, finally.
"Come onn, you said that before, too. Don’t be daft. You were dead. Of course it’s lucky for you. It’s lucky for both of us! We're together, now! Two of us in my TARDIS, finally, isn't that nice? Just like we said. Now, let’s just keep calm this time, Master…” he says gently, in a way that makes the Master sneer while watching the Doctor’s moves carefully. Meeting his eyes at the prospect of staying alive.
“… What do you have me hooked up to?” he finally asks, hoping to change the subject. And he needs to know. “And how long was I out? Because now… Now I’m present, and cognizant, and alive, and I don’t need you of all people making medical decisions for me...”
The Doctor smiles a little, despite the way it gnaws at him. The fact that the Master was being so ungrateful. So untrusting, rejecting his help, when really, all of this is the Master’s fault, isn’t it?
He laughs anyways. “… You don’t trust the Doctor with your medical decisions?” he says, smiling at that unamused face. Oh. It turns something over in the Master’s stomach. He doesn’t laugh with him. “… It’s.. It’s just funny, don’t you think?” the Doctor follows up.
The Master doesn’t think it’s funny. Maybe it’s just because the Master knows how he would be, if the situation were reversed, but.. He’s suddenly very concerned about how long the Doctor’s been alone with his unconscious body. ”… How long, Doctor?” He asks again.
The Doctor sighs as his joke goes un-laughed-at. Fine, back to the important stuff, or whatever. “So you don't remember?” He asks.
The Master shakes his head with a curious look. “Feels like the first time I've been up since… Y’know. Dying” he admits, and the Doctor raises an eyebrow. He really doesn't remember, still?
…Good. “You’ve been.. mostly unconscious for a few weeks, now. You probably don’t remember, Master, but you’ve woken up a handful of times. Haven't been awake for much of it, though. Waking up hasn’t… Been good for you, so far, is all. It's okay, you're still adjusting. Every time, afterwards, you drift back immediately.”
He doesn’t need to know that that’s thanks to the IV bag beside him, full of a sedative cocktail. Keeping the Master unconscious was the best way to allow him to regenerate fully. But oh, that was so boring.
… Weeks. Weeks, he’d been here for weeks.
“What is all of this? Really, Doctor, what have you done to me?”
“I’m regenerating you. Manually. Technically you were dead. I brought you back, but it took a toll on your body. It’s taking a toll on your body.” The Doctor says, watching the Master hide the fact that he’s in clear pain. In fact, the pain only made him push himself more. Shifting, sitting up, practically flopping over his torso as he did so. Needling, stinging pain shot up his chest, and his head’s foggy. He doesn’t want to look at the Doctor.
It’s difficult to feel bad when he’s told him to hold still, and told him so many times before… “You could have regenerated, it would have been much easier for the both of us. But no, no, Master, you had to be petty…” He sighs and turns around, pulling a pack of clear fluid from a cupboard. Then he starts to attach it to one of the stands next to the bed. “… You know what? Maybe I was wrong. I- I got excited, waking you up again. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, you obviously aren’t well enough yet, I’m just causing more distress. Look. Here, this is a sedative. Well, a couple of sedatives. Welll, a few sedatives. Tricky to put you of all people down. Either way, this will help, Master. You’ll be better, when you wake up. Won’t even notice.” The Doctor explains, taking his time with the bag.
Sedative? Sedatives?
“- No, no no no, don’t you- don’t you dare put all of this on me!” he insists, propping himself up, leaning forward on the palms of his hands. “No. No, no, no- I’m fine. I’m fine! See? I’m- I’m not moving. I don’t need sedating. I don’t need your care. I’d very much like to stay right where I am… I’ve had worse proper regenerations, even…” he says, blinking hard, eyes focusing hard on the fingers maneuvering the bag of clear liquid above him. “I’m fine, Doctor-“
“- You are not fine. You won’t stop moving and squirming and working yourself up. I might consider keeping you awake if you can prove to me you won’t just use this as an excuse to hurt yourself. Or give yourself another panic attack.” he says, making a show of not undoing the clasp at the bottom of the IV bag, holding the Master’s gaze. Holding oblivion at the very tips of his fingers…
…
“… Another panic attack?” he says, expecting more follow-up from the Doctor, who looks displeased to talk about it. “So, have I had others, before?”
The Doctor sighs, eyes briefly closing as he thinks back to a particularly panicked altercation, after waking the Master too suddenly, too eagerly. He was so tetchy, and feral, the first few times he woke up… The deep scar in the shape of the Master’s bite on his right forearm throbs at the thought.
“Don’t put any more strain on your mind worrying about what did and didn’t happen, Master…”
But it did happen, and he didn’t remember, and that kills the Master. Had he been here before? Did he forget by the time he woke up again? He’s breathing hard, shaky, and staring at the other, no less panicky, and no less disgusted at the idea of proving himself to the Doctor.
.. He also wants to stay awake, though, and looks at that hand, hovering threateningly over by the IV bag. “How- how many times have I woken up? I don't remember. How many panic attacks? How many times have you sedated me, Doctor?" He needs to know. He just needs to know. And the Doctor understands this, and is busy staring into the monitors all telling him different things about the Master’s ongoing regeneration. Telling the Doctor he's alive.
“You have to understand that everything I'm doing is absolutely necessary, Master… If you were able to walk out of this room with me- I'd let you. In an instant, I'd let you.”
Not that he'd let the Master outside of the TARDIS for a while now. But he'd be there, in the TARDIS, with him. And he still was, now, just relegated to one room. The Doctor likes knowing exactly where he is. He likes the monitors, assuring him the Master is alive. He… Likes… Having the Master like this. “But for now I have to take care of you. You're going to have to trust me.” He says.
The Master doesn't look at him. He grunts, in response. Not quite a positive, not quite a negative.
He watches the Master’s shoulders shake, struggling to keep upright. The Doctor reaches over. And he pushes down on one. Just like that, he watches the Master gasp and collapse back down without a fight.
“Stop pushing yourself.” He says, reaching a hand out to touch his cheek when he opens his mouth to protest. The Doctor smiles at the offended, indignant look on the Master’s face. His mouth closes, then opens again.
“You don't have to take care of me. I'm- I’m not asking for this. I never did. I don't need it. I don't need your- your care. I don't need anything from you.”
“Mhm. I know. I'm going to anyway. Somebody has to.” He says simply, fingertips running up and down the side of his face.
“Nobody has to…” he corrects, and the Doctor smiles.
“No, I do. You're my responsibility now. Especially now that I've brought you back.” The Doctor corrects right back, as the Master groans…
“This is stupid…” is all he can say, and it makes the other Time Lord smile even more. “... Talking about me like your bloody pet…”
He doesn't respond to that. The backs of his fingers run over his cheek, before coming up to lay across the Master’s forehead. And despite his best efforts, when the Doctor properly touches his burning face with that hand, his eyes flutter shut. He all but pushes into the cool fingers and palm on his forehead. And then the contact was gone. His head falls back onto the bed under him.
The other Time Lord sighs. “Look at that. Burning yourself up, with all that effort and excitement, Master. Stay still, here. I’m going to go get something to help you.”
The Master watches him, brows knit. He just can’t imagine…
“Have you been doing nothing but doting over me, Doctor?” he asks, and the Doctor can hear the contempt and mockery over the whole thing in his question.
If you consider days upon days of constantly working over the Master’s body to keep him alive when he first brought him back, and constantly worrying over his body keeping itself alive and the Master hurting himself or dying again… If you consider ruining his friendships with Martha and Jack to save him, to spend weeks at his bedside, doting over. Then yes, yes he was, he supposed.
Briefly, the Doctor considers leaving him like this for a few days on his own. See how he feels about doting then. Maybe then he wouldn’t be as sour to the whole thing. But then how different would it really be to the Valiant? And it was so much different. It has to be.
The Doctor turns to the IV bag behind him, and steps in front of it to check something indecipherable on a screen that the Master can only half-see, a way to ignore the twisting inside of his chest. He turns to the IV and fusses with the bag. The Master can't see, and doesn't make a noise, but the Doctor can feel that hesitation anyways.
He wants to see if he'll say anything else. He can't admit that he likes chasing that fear in the Master's voice. Certainly not to the Master. It must have been the combination of the Doctor’s lack of response, and the sedative bag being moved a little. Because then…
“Uhh- D- Doctor…”
He won.
When he walks away, the bag's clasp has gone untouched. No sedative, this time.
The Doctor hangs in the doorway for a moment. Has he been doing nothing but doting? He looks back at the Time Lord stuck in bed. “… You scared me, Master.” Is all he says, and it feels like saying too much. He still stands there, fingers tapping on the doorway in a mocking four-beat.
“…Ten and nine times, to answer your question from before. By the way." He finally adds, and turns his back to the Master. "Be back soon."
And leaves the Master alone.
Chapter 2: Liquid Regen
Summary:
The Doctor introduces the Master to the bespoke drug keeping him alive. And a lot comes out because of it.
Notes:
Happy Pride Pt. 2, I’m uploading chapters 1 & 2 at the same time.
It’s really hard to write dubcon with the Master when you know he’ll just hear “the Doctor drugged you and took advantage of you and didn’t even really feel bad” when he’s sober and get so hard he can’t see straight. Sigh.
P.S. for lack of a better term, they're having some Hannibal Conversations in this chapter. I'm only a little sorry about it. I lied- I'm not sorry at all.Hope you like it!! If you did, you can find me on tumblr too, also canisonicscrewyou haha. Sometimes I post WIPs for fics. Sometimes I like to yap, sometimes I'll even yap ABOUT my fics whether prompted to or not lol
Chapter Text
The Master didn’t expect the room to feel so… Empty… Without the Doctor. Slowly, a needling sense of dread, an unplaced anxiety fills him. He squirms in the medical bed. Unfortunately, he also thinks about the Doctor scolding him for moving about. So he pushes up, leans against the wall behind him, settling his breath and the obnoxious beeping somewhere beside him.
Just as he starts to ruminate on missing the Doctor and what that could possibly mean and being absolutely disgusted by it, though, the Doctor’s footsteps are heard down the hallway. He comes back into the room with a syringe and a vial in his hand, held in between splayed fingers.
“See? I was right back. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He says with a smile, shutting the door behind him with his free hand.
The Master glances between the Doctor and what he’s holding, back and forth skeptically. “… What have you got there?” He asks, as the Doctor puts everything down on the side table.
"Oh! Right. This..." the Doctor starts to talk as he twirls the vial between two fingers. A swirling liquid sloshes around, a vibrant glowing blue with gold sparks shimmering throughout. It looks like something that you should not be injecting into your body, under any circumstances. "... Is your medicine. Well, the medicine keeping you alive, at least."
Oh. That’s medicine? Eyes dart back and forth from the vial to his face. “Alright. Great. Love that. Just... What... Is it?" He asks, while the Doctor smiles, flicking the the vial to watch the drug swirl about.
"... Oh, it's artron energy..." he says, too focused on the little stim toy in his hand to clock the concern on his face.
Right. Artron energy. Radiation that’s found in regeneration energy as well as TARDISes. That’s reassuring. "And where do you get liquid artron energy, exactly?”
The Doctor tilts his head, still not looking at the Master. He starts to load the syringe. “Well, at first I used… Some reserve. I mean, I only have so much regeneration energy myself, but…” he trails, rubbing at the back of his neck. He can see the sneer on the Master’s face even from the corner of his eye. “.. I.. Had to jumpstart the process somehow… Then I had to get crafty.”
“That’s…” He used his own. And for a fleeting moment, his concern is more that the Doctor shouldn’t be wasting his own regeneration energy like that. “… That’s disgusting. I don’t need your regenerations.” It was completely different when he’s taking them willingly, forcefully. The Master doesn’t want to think about that right now, nor where he sourced the blood that’s pumping hard into his ears too... “… How did you get it afterwards?”
“Oh! When it’s not in regeneration energy, you have to condense it, from its typical form. Took a bit of tinkering to get it right, definitely a lot more liquid per… liquid. Almost like it’s bigger on the inside. Makes sense, given the circumstances! I had to build a whole thermo-radioactive condenser to get it to work properly…” he says, rambling on about the process.
The syringe only finally fills up with the dose. Larger than usual. The Master doesn’t need to know that.
“Wh..." the Master shifts, and finds himself pushing to the side of the bed further away from the Doctor. Okay. That was kind of fascinating. But he’d have to ask about it again later, that isn’t the point right now. “Yes, but where did you get it?”
The Doctor taps at the body of the syringe. Then he puts it down, and pulls out an alcohol wipe and a tourniquet to put on the tabletop, like he’s done this dozens of times before.
"... Doctor."
"Master?" He replies, finally turning his head back to him with bright eyes and a little smile. It's almost charming enough to distract him.
"Have you been injecting me with TARDIS fuel?"
The Doctor tuts, tossing his head to the side. "Ohhh, come on! You know it's not TARDIS fuel. Don't act like I've been pumping you full of petrol or something! I- You have made this whole process incredibly difficult, Master. You could at least be a little grateful!"
"You denied me a rightful death and then started playing Frankenstein with me. Hard to see what there is to be grateful about."
"-- Stop saying that. It wasn't a rightful death! You were stubborn, and petty and... And leaving me alone." He says the last part quietly, like it was too late to stop the words from leaving his mouth.
“Ohhh, that’s what this is about. Being the only ones left… Well, who’s fault is that, Doctor?”
“Stop it!” he shouts, head snapping back towards him, leaning in closer. “Stop it, just- stop it. You weren’t even there!” he insists, prodding at his chest. But his intensity settles. Now he’s convincing himself. “You don’t.. know what it was like…”
He blinks hard, tilting his head up with a sharp inhale. Then he looks down at the Master and leans in closer, noses practically touching. “- You are going to live whether you like it or not. In fact, you’re going to live for every single life you took, Master. And we both know it’ll take an eternity for you to pay that off.”
Ohhhh the Master wished he didn’t like being the subject of that dangerous look in the Doctor’s eyes so much. The threat of the liquid regen lingers in the back of his mind- but oh, he had to poke where he could. So his head tilts, and he smiles, and he tries so very hard to avoid getting lost in dark eyes and ignore that flipping in his stomach…
“Oh. Is that penance for me, or for you, Doctor?” He asks with a raised eyebrow and a look that only upsets the Doctor more.
The Doctor exhales sharply, pulling at the Master’s arm. The Master tries to tug his arm away, and once more it’s being guided towards the Doctor. Again, he tugs. So the Doctor yanks him harder. “There are cuffs attached to the bed.” He says bluntly, not looking up. “I will use them. So just hold still for me, Master. Please.” He does look up and find the Master’s eyes that time, wielding his name like a weapon. The one thing to get him to agree easily.
And it works, because suddenly the Master is holding completely still, despite his better judgement. But his better judgement agreed that he isn’t fit to run out the TARDIS, either. So he sighs, and doesn’t fight when the Doctor tugs his arm into his grasp. “… Good.” he finally says as he wraps the tourniquet around his upper arm.
“Ohhh, yeah. Very good. You get to play Doctor- and I get what? To be your prisoner?”
“If anything, Master, right now you’re a patient. Now, I let you be awake for this. If you just let me-“
“Patient? That’s horrific- oh! Ohohhh, you let me be awake, did you? That’s so kind, Doctor! You let me wake up so I could stroke your bloody ego by being alive. I can choose between apparent weeks of drum-filled oblivion or weeks of staying in your TARDIS hospital while you hover and make sure I’m not dying again! You’re such a good Doctor, aren’t you? Doing everything I don’t want and patting yourself on the back for it too!”
Maybe he’d gone too far, because instead of responding, the Doctor pulls the tourniquet tighter with a serious look on his face.
The Master is so, so tired of the silent treatment from the Doctor. To think he spent an entire year just trying to get him to talk back…
"... And you're one to talk about that. Didn't care much about bodily autonomy over the last year, did you, Master? Not with me. Not with Jack, or Lucy, or Tish, or the whole entire Earth… Not with the human race. Not with Chantho. No, not ever, really…” the Doctor says, getting carried away in thought, his own hearts racing up in his throat as he gets caught up in the enormity of it all.
He blinks slowly a few times, eyes finding his face again. “Not once in our long lives have you cared about that, Master. So forgive me for not caring about your whining over me doing what you were going to do anyways.” Because all he did was simply cut out the waiting period for the Master to come back from the dead.
He takes a deep breath, eyes closing for a moment. Oh, his arm is throbbing… The Master swallows his tongue on what he says next, eyes rolling away from the Doctor. "I'm just.. adjusting to being your.. patient..." he says, and despite the placating, he still says it with a touch of sarcasm.
He hears a hum above him. The Doctor reaches over to hold the Master's cheek, guiding him to look up at him. Oh, there it was again, the pleasantly sick twist he gets in his stomach when the half-alive Time Lord's eyes flash with unspoken fear...
"... I… uh… I didn't take very good care of you..." he adds, quiet and nervous and uncertain. The Doctor's thumb trails over his cheek, tilting his own head the other way while he thinks.
The Master’s fawning. The Doctor knew fawning quite well- he’s very good at it. And so is the Master, it seems, because oh, it stirs something in the Doctor. This is how it feels, being in this position… The Master is far more chatty when cornered than the Doctor was all of last year. That seems kind of fitting.
"My patient..." he says, savoring the feeling of standing above him like this. And then he laughs at the simplicity, giggling in an unsettling way. "... No. No, Master, you didn't take very good care of me at all..." he agrees. His hand comes to hold the Master's jaw. "Fortunately for you, this will be different. I'm going to take perfect care of you..." He says in a soft tone that doesn't soothe the Master. "... More than anyone's ever been taken care of before.”
He takes his arm and holds it straight across the space between them. The Doctor’s thumb finds a particular vein in his arm, feels it swell underneath his warmth. He notices that the Master isn’t fighting, now.
"And your medicine will help. Promise. Here... There we go..." he says, needle breaching soft skin. Both Time Lords watch the liquid regen enter his bloodstream. Suddenly, the Master realizes he hasn’t prepared for this.
“… Do you know what it does, though?” He asks quickly, the urgency catching up to him.
“Mmm. I don’t know.” The Doctor says, and he isn’t sure he trusts him. “Should feel warm and tingly. I guess we’ll find out how it treats you together.”
Before everything, he sees how slow the liquid is draining from the syringe, despite moving so fluidly before. It really was dense.
“Warm and tingly, yes, great, but what’s it- supposed–”
To do.
That’s fast. That’s really fast.
First the Master notices the warmth. It courses up and down his arms, down his neck and spine... Every part of him is warm. He flushes. When did the room get so hot?
Then... Then everything gets more difficult to notice. He swallows, and swallowing is difficult for a moment. Thoughts come to him slower, despite how fast his brain feels like it’s running- though maybe that’s just the… the… the adrenaline? Then he gets caught up in trying to read any of the screens. What did they say, about his body? His recovery?
The words there start to bleed together. The numbers don’t make sense.
He turns his head back, brows knit. He looks up at the Doctor and that feels like an instant mistake. Breathing gets harder. He kind of has the sense to focus his eyes just beside his face, rather than getting caught up in his big bright brown eyes…
"So… Soo… Wh..Whatsit… do, Doctor?" He asks, finally, each word an effort to form and string together.
The Doctor smiles. “Regenerates you.” He says, like it's a silly question. “Just… Slower. I don't know about the more… Recreational effects. This is your first time conscious for your regen.” he says with a shrug, eyes scanning him over pervasively. Flicking up and down, up and down.
But the Master’s eyes are lidded, and he loses his self-inflicted battle to smile at the Doctor, eyes settling on his face. His eyes. Then down to his lips. He clears his throat, and tries to roll his shoulders back, to pull himself together. He swats his hand at him as the Doctor takes the tie off his arm. Tries to get the attention off of himself, for once in his very long life. “Youuu-You should try this out yourself, sometime, Doc- Doctor..” he wonders what an excess of artron energy might do to a fully regenerated Time Lord, but the thought doesn't go anywhere. It fizzles out. “... Could stand to- to, loosen up sometime…” He swats at him again, leaning and losing balance. “Careful, careful, careful…” the Doctor says quickly, catching the Master before he has the chance to fall forward and directly off the bed. He looks him over, makes him sit and lean back.
But then he’s fine, and then he smiles and sits on the side of the bed with his arms crossed, leaning in a little. “… Could I?” He asks with a laugh. “Seems like you're the one who could use it. Look at you! You look downright blissful. Enjoying yourself, Master?” he asks, mostly finding himself elated to see him smiling.
The Master laughs, in response, and once more he’s trying to act like he’s pulling himself together. It doesn’t work well. “Mmmmmmaybe. Maybe, blisch.. Blisssful. Not even that bad. Not that… That heavy. Definitely even- taken worse.. willingfully…” the Master replies, brows screwed up, concentrating on the words he stumbles over. He tries to focus on how it feels. Maybe then he could adjust and start to act.. maybe normal. He can’t let the Doctor win. The Doctor looks so smug, when he wins, smug and serious and sad and pretty and it makes the Master absolutely furious and he wants to bite him why can’t he just bite him even if he lose—
Oh, the sonic is being shone into his wide, wet eyes.
Very wide. The Doctor minds how blown up his pupils are despite the light.
“Mhm. Sure.” The Doctor nods, and smiles, as the Master insists that he’s fine. “The dose is… a liiiittle higher than normal, to be certain… Follow the light…” he does, albeit a bit slower. “Good, good.. You’re taking it well this time, Master…” the Doctor puts the sonic down. “Not a single sign of…”
He picks up the Master’s hand freely, and moves it around. Plays with the fingers, examining his reactions. The Master lets him, watching dumbly as he fidgets with his hand and presses their palms together… If he’d just curl his fingers around hand it might be…
“- Perfect!” The Doctor grins, eyes lighting up at some unknown factor. His hand comes down to hit his knee in satisfaction. The Master only flinches.
His brow knits, staring at the space where the Doctor’s hand was and makes a face. Immediately he shakes his hand off, like he’d burned himself. He frowns. “... Perfect?”
“Perfect.” The Doctor repeats with a smile, holding that eye contact with the Master. Still frowning, but he’d take it just to see him less angry.
The Master laughs, eventually, letting his head fall back against the wall behind him. It makes the Doctor wince. “Hey hey hey- careful of your head…” he says, picking up the pillow from the chair he’d brought in here, guiding the Master to let him place it behind his head if he was going to sit like that.
The Master raises an eyebrow, but isn’t nearly in a state to fight him, so he lets it happen, the tips of his ears turning pink as the Doctor gently fixes his hair. “… Worried I’ll hurt myself?” He asks him, and the other Time Lord is quick to respond, “Yes. Incredibly.” He admits, checking him over for a moment longer.
He looks up at the Doctor, tilting his head into his hand while it’s close. He glares up at him, but it’s unserious and eventually morphs into a dumb smile. His hands were cold, and he feels so hot. “You’re… Silly…” he slurs out, brow knit, and it makes the Doctor laugh.
“Am I? I don’t feel particularly silly, compared to you…” He says, still holding his face in his hand. “Look at you… Maybe I should have gotten you this high earlier…” he says, relishing in how the Master was leaning in for more touch. Touch the Doctor was starved for, after the year he had. He smiles down at him. “You should be like this all the time, Master…” Like this, the Master is happy, behaved… Certainly not in a state to leave the Doctor, ever again.
Eventually, though, he pries himself away. “... Now, I thought you'd be getting bored, stuck in one place. I mean, we are similar, you and me. We’re just alike, in a lot of ways, even if you won’t admit it…” He says, digging through a side cabinet beside them. Before the Master can protest, he’s cut off by the Doctor, “A-ha!” he cries out and the Master flinches, again, delayed.
“Here we are!” He says, pulling out a familiar laser screwdriver, all busted up. “This… uh… got broken on the Valiant in all of the scuffle. Thought you might want to help me repair it, while you’re holed up here."
The Doctor introduces this as a fun activity, and the Master, even all fogged up, had a confused look on. Eyes darting between the screwdriver and his face. “... You… Wanna help… Repair that?” He asks softly. And the other man nods cheerfully and puts it down, starting to disassemble it completely in front of him.
He takes it apart, piece by piece like nothing, and lays every circuit board and spring and casing out on the bed between them.
Then he sits properly, crossing his legs, making a space for himself beside the Master. Making him move over without ceremony, despite all the doting. And he moves with a whiny grunt, although seems put off by the proximity. He fidgets.
The Doctor rests his chin in his linked hands, elbows propped on his knees. Looking up at the Master. His eyes are roaming over the pieces slowly, jaw set tight. The Doctor raises an eyebrow.
“... Can you tell me the mechanics of a laser screwdriver, Master?” he asks casually, and watches as he registers what he said. The blonde Time Lord’s expression changes slowly, mouth opening to form words he cannot find.
“I… I- Y- Yes. Of course I- I can. I made it. I know…” he says resolutely, reaching down with absolute uncertainty. The Doctor takes his hand, stops him from grabbing a piece.
“Can you tell me?” He asks again, watching the other’s eyes dart away, boring down into the hand wrapped around his wrist…
“It.. Uh… Uses..” He starts, and once again, he’s searching for words, swimming through a thick cloud of mind fog. “Uh.. Transsmits- laser beams… ” he explains weakly, obviously unhappy with that answer. He expects a laugh, but the Doctor is smiling and nodding and that might be worse. “Mhm, it does, Master. That’s right. Do you know what this does?” He asks, holding a cylinder up, one of the firing chambers.
The Master swallows hard, reaching out to grab it for himself while the Doctor pulls it away from him. “Careful, Master.” he scolds, just holding it up for him to look at.
“Prick…” he grumbles, distracted by his frustration as he stares the chamber down. “That’s… That’s, that’s, that’s- that’s the energy coil.” he says, watching the Doctor’s eyes light up as he gets it right. It was all still there- it just felt like his brain was covered in a thick haze. It’s impossible to find anything, to think clearly. “Youu you can- use the uh- the- the frequent.. divert… diverse to… the uh- no. The um..” then his expression changes, frustration blooming as he starts to lose it again.
The Doctor is soon quick to interrupt as he watches the Master struggle and get frustrated as the answer slips from his fingertips. “… The frequency diversifier, yes. You can use that in order to change the mechanics of the screwdriver. Laser, sonic, gamma…” he says, finishing his thought for him.
“… Y.. Yeah… That’s… What I meant.” He says, and the Doctor notices how his ears flush. He smiles at the Master, reaching to brush a bit of hair behind that red ear. “- I know.” he placates in an overly-nice voice. “Good job, Master.” he adds. They both know he’s capable of better- much better, he’s the one who built the stupid screwdriver in the first place. But the Doctor praises him for falling short anyways. The Master swallows down his pride and embarrassment.
And the Doctor feels like his entire nervous system is electricity. He has to keep poking. He has to know. He spreads a few of the pieces out in front of him. “… Which coil is it?” He asks, tongue tracing the backs of his teeth.
The Doctor knew.
“That’s easy.” He insists, quick and gruff as he looks down. Down, down, down, down… He spirals, staring at the different coils and little wires… Ohhh, why did they look like they were vibrating? They’re moving, and all sort of blending together. But he can’t tell the Doctor that. He can’t let him know how incapacitated he is.
But he doesn’t answer, and time feels like it’s moving so slowly, and he can feel the Doctor looking at him and fucking smiling… The Master’s whole face turns red.
“Come on, Master, you know this…” the Doctor says in that voice again.
He swallows hard, head turned down. “They… All… Look th’same…” he says, finally. But he’s still trying to figure out which piece is which.
The Doctor watches, and watches, and his eyes light up. “… You don’t know.” he says in a knowing, pernicious tone. It’s exciting. Then, the Doctor licks his lips, and tilts his head, trying to hide that slip. “You don’t know?” he says, phrased like an encouraging question, an introduction to help.
It was there, somewhere, in the Master’s mind, in some part of his brain difficult to get to right now. There’s a raw satisfaction in being the one to explain it to him as he slips more and more. He’s brilliant, and the Doctor’s watching him slur and stumble over incredibly basic concepts.
“No! No, no, I know-“
“- Really? Because none of them look the same to me, at least…” the Doctor drawls as the Master insists he knows the answer. “I do imagine it’s harder to figure it out disassembled when you’re just patently ripping off a sonic screwdriver, though…” he says in that too-soft tone, like he was just sighing. In turn, he spreads out the parts, leaving one particular coil to stand out- a sonic converter. “… Let’s start with our frequency, Master. Which part do you think we should pick?”
Even the Master, in the state the he was, can see how obvious the Doctor made the answer. Because he doesn’t realize what the part is- he doesn’t see how it stands out to the rest of the laser screwdriver right now.
“Come on, you know the answer…” the Doctor prods while the Master continues to seethe and not answer out of principle. He’s being patronized. He can’t fight, right now. He doesn’t have it in him.
Instead, he’s too overcome with white-hot shame, lip twitching and curling as he finally reaches out, pointing unenthusiastically at the sonic converter, and wincing as it’s picked up in front of him. The Doctor puts a few of the pieces together.
“Good, that’s right. You catch on so quickly.” He says with a smile, and then hears the Master grumble something out. “… This.. Isn’t funny…”
The Doctor’s head tilts towards him, frowning and sitting back to look at him. “I’m not being funny. I thought I was spending time with you, so you aren’t holed up here while you’re high. I don’t want to leave you all by yourself half the time, slowly regenerating till your body’s better.” he says, gesturing with the barely-built screwdriver at him. “How… How boring is that? Practically as boring as letting you sleep there!”
“Hm. Yeah, you’re quite the doctor…” the Master mutters, eyes rolling away from him. “I… I know what ‘m doing… Know how this works, it’s just…”
The Doctor places a hand over his and feels the Master tense. “… It’s just the regen, I know. I know, and you need it to heal, so we have to get through it, anyway.” he insists, squeezing the hand under his. “You’d risk atrophying without it for now. And I can’t have you dying again. Not ever.”
They were the last two. They had to stay alive. Apparently, the Doctor was good at it, keeping them alive. Or else, like the Master said before: very, very lucky.
“… So we have to pass the time, while you’re on your liquid regen… No need to get all squeamish about it. Just try to enjoy it.” he shrugs, reaching out to tap the Master’s nose with a smile. He watches him flinch, blink, lick his lips..
“So… How long doessit last?” he asks, hearts beating faster in his chest, up his throat, as he watches the Doctor screw his face up and tilt his head back and forth in thought. “You… Know, don’t you?”
“Hmm… I mean, like I said, it’s not like I’ve seen you conscious like this, before…” he insists, lips twisting up to one side. “Oh, maybe a couple of hours? The effects… Might linger a while afterwards. Wouldn’t be certain myself, though.” He shrugs again, looking up at the ceiling briefly. “Guess we’ll have to find out.”
The Master takes a breath, trying to wager if he believes him or not.
“I’ll stay here the whole time.” he promises, reaching out to fix his hair again, those continuous little touches that keep sticking out severely in the Master’s mind. It’s starting to drive him crazy, and it’s part of why he pushes against his fingertips. Somehow, the Master is still surprised, when the Doctor’s fingers press through his hair and curl up at the crown possessively. He swallows past a lump in his throat once the electricity shoots through his spine.
“I- I don’t need you here the whole time…” he says, blinking eyes open, pushing his hand away. Scalp still tingling from the fingertips that were just brushing against it, face still red and just a touch mortified.
The Doctor pouts, and tilts his head at him as he gets an idea. “- Maybe not, but I’d get bored.” he says, “And I’d want to see what happens… Especially with the second half of your dose. I have to find out. Otherwise I might as well just have kept you sedated…” And what good was that?
The Doctor takes the rest of the screwdriver components and dumps them into the side table, onto a metal tray meant for scalpels and other tools. Many different tools now, apparently.
Wait… Wait. “… Second half?” The Master says, frowning at him. “There- was no second half mentioned before. That’s not- fair…” he says, but doesn’t fight as the Doctor pulls him to get ready. He’s sitting across the way from the Doctor now, watching him readminister artron energy while he stares…
“No, you must not have heard me mention it. With your poor head, I don’t blame you, Master…” he says, watching needle pierce skin all over again. “It’ll be fine. The artron energy courses through your system for a few days, then we start the process over. Maybe a few more weeks. The process isn’t perfect…”
He continues to chatter about the process of manually regenerating the Master, as he watches him go slack underneath his fingers. And to think he was so good at holding himself together, before, so tense trying to hide the effects…
The Doctor finds his face, staring at his own like he’s trying to find something. “There. That’s it, for the next few days. That’s not so bad…”
Now he wishes it was sooner, though. He briefly thinks about how often he would be able to keep the Master like this, hypothetically… And he thinks about the allure of being telepathically connected, how it would feel inside of the other Time Lord’s mind while his inhibitions were lowered and thought was more difficult…
The Master’s body relaxes, and mind races and stalls all at the same time. Like he’s stuck on a fast-spinning loading screen. He slumps a little against the wall. He’s thinking about something else. Or trying to, at least, while everything in his system hits like a car crash.
“You’re… You’re.. Smug…” he finally states, blinking slow as he looks up at him like it’s some big secret. The Doctor sighs.
“… Maybe I am.” he says softly. He leans over. “You were, when I was your prisoner, weren’t you, Master?”
And then his voice brightens, giving no space for reply. “I have good reason to be! You’re still alive.” he says, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “And I’m going to take care of you. Just like I said. It isn’t so bad, is it Master? Staying here with me. Relaxing. Getting better. Maybe helping me with the TARDIS. Being taken care of…”
The Doctor smiles at him, not nearly as gently as before. “… You can’t do anything right now.” he says, and he enjoys finally saying it out loud. He did expect that to set the Master off, though, watching recognition spark in his eyes. Did he have it in him to get angry, the Doctor wonders? “- You can’t. And that’s okay. That’s what I’m here for, really-“
“- Shut up. Shut uppp shut up shut up I can- I can do things. I can do so much.” he insists to the Doctor, sitting up and leaning forward on his hands.
He gets smiled at again, and the Doctor traces a finger over his jaw and watches the Master struggle to keep focus, trying not to react when he can feel a little whine get caught up in his throat. It didn’t take much, did it? “What? Master, no. You don’t have to do anything other than lay there…” he insists gently.
“That’s the point…” he protests, and soon the Doctor is weaseling his hands underneath and into the Master’s. He takes them, guiding them away from the bed in a way that makes the Master struggle.
“In fact, I think you might be overdoing it right now, in this state-“ “- No, no, don’t you start-“
It’s not that there isn’t any fight left in the Master, the Doctor notices. It’s more that there’s no strength put behind the fight. Like a bad dream where your limbs don’t actually fight back.
So when he gives a weak push, the Doctor pulls his hands towards him. Guiding the Master into a fight he barely registers is happening.
“You know, it’s fine, Master, it’s not like you have to prove yourse-“
He makes a noise, and then he’s falling backwards. All of a sudden, the Master is stumbling on top of the Doctor as well with a grunt. He’s propped up on top of him with outstretched arms, leaning weight onto his hands, entangled with the Doctor’s. How did this happen? Did he lunge forward? Was he trying to get him? That must have been it. That sounds like him. He must have gone for it.
The Master sways back and forth on top of the Doctor. His brow knits. His hands are still gripping the other man’s, even if it'd be easy to let go. It’s more for stability than to keep him still. That doesn’t matter to the Doctor right now. From where he was, though, the Master has a much greater concern. "How'd I... When did I get up here...?"
"You pushed me." The Doctor says bluntly. He can see the confusion there. But now he's underneath the Master and his grip.. “You literally just pinned me down, how do you not remember? I didn’t think it was actually that big of a dose…” He goes on, tilting his head. Watching the other man. "... What are you going to do, now?"
What is he going to do now?
He pulls a face down towards the Doctor, who’s flashing innocent all up at him.
"... Are you doing this on purpose??" The Master asks, as if it's literally only just dawning on him.
"No? You tortured me for a year, Master. Why would I want to do this on purpose?"
The Doctor is staring up at him and talking so matter-of-factly, it only frustrates the Master in his haze even more.
And to make matters worse then the Doctor is fluttering eyelashes at him so prettily... "... Really, aren't you the one who wanted this?"
What? What? Why is he turning this around on him? "N- No! No, that's not what I want, don't be a soft idiot. I- I never wanted this..."
"Really? Never? Never ever? Could have fooled me when we were younger."
"That was then. Don't talk about when we were kids like it's fact-" "- I wasn't talking about when we were kids. It's still fact even if things changed that we..." "— Shut up," "- and the fact that you stuck your-" "- Shut up shut up shut up shut up. Now it's not like that. I want to see you burn. I want it to hurt. All I want to do is kill you in the most painful way I can manage to wipe that smug look off your dumb stupid idiot face—"
"Oh? Do it, then?" The Doctor asks, unable to hide his breath hitching at the thought. His hand wiggles underneath the Master's grip. Interlocking their fingers. It shouldn't be that easy to make the Master blush.
And the Master is too busy fixating on their hands to realize what the Doctor said. Glassy eyes zoning out into the sight of the Doctor’s hand pressed against the mattress, their fingers locked up together…
The Doctor wonders, briefly, what got into the Master, in this regeneration… Maybe the second dose was a good idea, after all. It might have been necessary, loosening him up like this…
So the Doctor tries to get his attention again. He leans his head up. "How would you do it?"
The Master blinks, eyes losing their hazy focus. And leans back on his heels. The Doctor can easily wriggle up onto his elbows, hands still firmly under the Master’s, even if they move about. He blinks down at him again, surprised he can move so easily. But even then… What did he mean? "Wh.. What?"
The Doctor slides his hands, just an inch, and the Master is flopping back down into his space despite his effort to create some.
His head tilts up, noses brushing against each other. "How would you kill me, Master?"
The Master's blushing even harder now, blinking at the Doctor just below him. He can feel the Doctor shift... Is he getting comfortable?
He squeezes the Doctor's hand and feels his stomach lurch when he smiles up at him in response. His mouth goes dry. Must be the liquid regen, too.
"I... I.. I- uh- Uh..." he laughs , blinking hard, trying to listen harder like he was missing something. "What're you... doing?"
The Doctor isn’t quite sure, either. But if there’s one thing he is- it’s curious. And he just has to keep poking, and poking… "I know you've thought about it. In fact I know you’ve thought about it too much, so don’t try to play coy…” he says, despite the absolutely coy smirk on his face while the Master briefly went offline. This… This is the regen, isn’t it? This just had to be the regen. This isn’t real. Somehow.
But the other Time Lord keeps going anyways. "Do you think you'd use your hands? I think that's what you'd want."
His jaw hangs open, brows knit. His mind is racing. Wait. What…
"What is happening..." he says aloud, mostly to himself, because the Doctor is entirely too entertained. Is this really happening?
The Master feels absolutely dizzy and he's not sure if it’s the drugs anymore. The Doctor's breath is warm against his jaw and his ear and he's talking into it and...
"... Yes..." is all he finally says, trying not to look down at him right now.
The Doctor's got a smirk on his face, he's absolutely preening. And the Master knows that the Doctor can see the way his breathing is too heavy, the way he can't control how red his face is, or that he's looking juuust above his head entirely to avoid looking at his lips... This is stupid. He knows it.
Just like the Doctor knowing that he's batting at a hornet's nest. He's also feeling cocky about this, sure. He's flying very close to the sun... But maybe that's also because he's looking up at the Master like the sun. Repressed, confused, half-lucid, beautiful, and so very much alive.
He leans closer. Tries to make the Master look at him.
And, because he could do so the entire time, he slips one hand from the Master's grip. Coming up to take his chin between his thumb and forefinger.
"And you wouldn't use that silly laser screwdriver to do it, would you?" He asks, and smiles something soft when he sees the Master's eyes search all over his face. Trying to find some sort of answer for this. Eventually his head shakes, a little.
"... No.. No. I wasn't actually planning on using it for that- that, I-" while he’s tripping over words, the Doctor's fingertip is running up and down the Master's cheek, eyes fixed on his open mouth with a little smile.
There's a passing moment where he feels kind of wrong about the whole thing.
But he thinks about everything the Master did over the last year. Surely this is nothing, in comparison... And that's before the Doctor justifies it, with assurances that this isn’t anything the Master wouldn't really want anyways.
The fact that he also shouldn’t be doing this with the Master is someone else’s concern.
"I would… I’d.. rip you apart, I think. I.. I think about that. A lot. Both of us like that.” he admits, mind racing now. “Or use my hands to strangle you… Watch you till the light- leaves your eyes… Keep crushing your throat afterwards… Feel your hearts stop.. Or- stabbing you. Biting you. Breaking you. Breaking your hearts. Listening to you beg me not to, tellin’ me ‘m better than it… Ruining you. Forever. Making you sorry. Staking my claim. " He says softly, watching the Doctor's eyes get darker as he goes on. Maybe his did, too. He’s hard. He’s ignoring how hard he is. It is incredibly difficult to ignore how hard he is. And how every other inch of his body feels hypersensitive. Was that the Doctor’s bulge, pressing against him? He doesn’t want to check. He doesn’t want to look down and see them pressed together, and he barely registers all of this anxious panic as thought, while he’s busy getting lost in the Doctor’s eyes, and the way his bottom lip looks when his mouth opens… “Make.. Make you mine again, finally…”
He only half-notices that the Doctor is getting closer, and closer, pressing himself up and off the mattress, as the Master is only talking about hurting him and touching him, rather than doing anything concrete…
“.. Would you?” the Doctor asks, and the Master makes a face, despite their breath mingling, despite how very close they were, he didn’t seem to get it…
“Would… I.. what?” he asks, and the Doctor laughs in disbelief. Barely squirming under him.
Now, he knew the Master’s drugged, and half-alive, but… This level of obliviousness had to be on purpose, right? He’d manufactured all of this- if anything, even in this state the Doctor was expecting to be called out for how unsubtle he is. This is impressive, even.
“I can’t believe- Make me yours, bastard…” he’s already tired of waiting. He presses forward, leaning in to finally kiss him…
… And the Master stumbles backward against the bed, all red-faced and mortified and lips parted. His hearts are pounding in his ears and for a moment he’s alarmingly lightheaded. “What are you doing?”
And despite the sting of rejection that comes with it, the Doctor laughs when the Master pulls away from an attempted kiss. Trying to brush it off.
Because if this really goes that poorly, the Doctor can make him forget. And cry. And maybe try again later.
So he changes the angle. “Isn’t this what you wanted, Master?” He asks with a smile, like it makes perfect sense. The Doctor gets closer. He doesn’t back away. All of it starts to catch up to him.
“All that time, a whole year. You just wanted my attention…” he says shamelessly.
He blushes and chokes on the indignity of being found out. “- That’s, that’s not-“
The Doctor continues right over him. “- Now I want to give it to you.”
“all of it at- O.. Oh.” he stops in his tracks, blinking away the extra fog. Heat crawls down his neck.
But the other Time Lord smiles, getting closer all over again.
“Do you not like it? Getting what you wanted so badly, after all this time? I thought you’d like it, Master. Having all my attention on you.” He keeps going, and going, and the Master feels downright dizzy…
“N- No. I mean- I-“ he could get into it again, talking about the situation the Doctor’s put him in. But it all fizzles out on his heavy tongue. “I… I don’t know…”
“You don’t know?” He repeats back to him, savoring the words all over again with a little smile. “You could stop this, then. You aren’t some poor thing. Whenever you wanted, Master, you could have stopped this.” the Doctor insists in a way where even he believes it. From not regenerating all the way to denying him his kiss… “.. So why keep denying something you want?”
Oh, god, why didn’t he just kiss him back?
The Master is trying to hunt for an answer that would satisfy him as much as the Doctor. He can’t. I know you. He keeps saying that. “Wh… Why do you think you know what I want?”
The Doctor blinks and answers simply. “I know you better than anyone.”
“For fuck’s sake, just- just stop saying that…” he grumbles, head tilting back when he hears the Doctor exhale a little laugh.
He can’t help that the Master is so easy to tease. But then maybe the Master can’t help it, either. “Yeah? Or else what, Master? Are you going to get even harder against me?” he finally asks, with a proper laugh when he sees the Master’s eyes all but jump from his skull.
“That’s- that’s not-“ he stammers out an answer that the Doctor isn’t paying attention to. He has a hand at his hip, his own rocking up against him…
“… What? Was I supposed to pretend I couldn’t feel it?” he asks, reaching to pull the Master closer. He wants to kiss him. But now it’s a matter of principle, he wants him to do it. Now it’s about finding a way to reap the repercussions of a year of silent treatment. To get the last word in on everything regarding the Valiant. He was alone for far too long, these past few weeks.
In his frustration, the Doctor flops down, eyes fluttering up at him.
“When did you get so shy, Master?” He asks, and watches him pout with a smile. “Never thought I’d see you shy and nervous and unable to even finish a sentence… Maybe this is my fault. You’re too shy to even kiss me. Ohh, you poor thing—”
Trust him to never miss an opportunity to prove him wrong.
With a growl, the Master grabs the Doctor’s shirt and pulls up with unfounded strength. He falls down into him, teeth clanging against the other’s when he finally, finally kisses him. And the Doctor doesn’t care about the clack of his teeth, or the fact that his lip was already cut by the Master’s frantic carelessness within seconds… He wins. He keeps doing that. The Master doesn’t even know he won, this time.
The Doctor reaches a hand up into the Master’s hair, curling around blonde strands again, swallowing up too-eager moans like he’s parched. The Master doesn’t really know where his hands are. He knows they’re moving, grabbing the other man where he could, lifting legs and gripping his thighs and trying to move them to fit together.
There’s blood on the Doctor’s lip and the Master laps it up when they pull away. He pushes on his forehead, looking up at him.
“Did you get what you want?” Because he did. He absolutely did.
Did the Master get what he wanted? Was the road to get here worth it? Being revived, and drugged, and cared for, and prodded, and agitated, and belittled, and incapacitated, and… And he’s staring down at the Doctor while he makes doe-eyes up at him.
“- Yes…” He says, finally, leaning down to kiss him hard all over again.
This time, the Doctor is quick to pull away, though. He smiles when the Master whines. “Help with my clothes.” he tells him, guiding hands up to his tie. He figures he’ll struggle with that, so the Doctor mostly does it himself. Despite focus being elsewhere, the Master still loathes the idea of all the help from the Doctor. He shoves his hands out of the way afterwards to undo shirt buttons himself.
“What? Hardly much for me to do. You’re shirtless.”
The Master is too busy being offended by the reveal of an undershirt, below his button down and jacket, to truly notice he’s been shirtless. The whole time. “And you wear too many clothes..” he says, looking up at him. Then he looks down, pushing off his first two layers. “Make yourself useful and take off my pants, then. I notice you let me have trousers while I was asleep. Nice of you to let me keep some dignity.”
“Better than you ever did.” The Doctor quips back while he fumbles with the button. He hears a sighed laugh and a “.. Fair enough.” in reply. He wins.
“Fair enough?” He makes quick work, shedding the Master of both layers, just as he wriggles down to take care of the Doctor’s trousers as well with those shaky hands. “You were horrific, for an entire year, to me and everyone I care about. You stripped me of every layer of dignity I could have. Fair enough?”
The Master’s splayed hands grab the Doctor by his thighs, pulling him closer. Despite the conversation, his eyes light up.
“Oh, what is it, Doctor?” he asks, proving that even if the Doctor drugged him silly- the Master is still the Master. “Were you expecting me to say sorry?”
He makes room between his legs for the other man, and his face screws up at the sheer gall. Did he think that was out of the question?
“Actually. You know what? Yes.” he decides then and there, propping up on his elbow. “Tell me you’re sorry.”
Oh. Ohhhh, oh, he was serious? The Master giggles down at the Doctor. “Oh, come on, Doctor. We both know I’m not doing- tha-at-“ he gasps, falling closer when he grabs his ass. “Yes you are, Master.” Pulling him in. From there, the Doctor’s nails run up his back, and he watches the Master gasp and moan… And he takes a handful of hair, stroking it back as he looks up at him.
“You are. You are, because I want you to, and I said so.”
“Is that so? Do you thi- ngk,” he’s cut off by another noise, as the Doctor tugs at his hair to interrupt him.
“No, don’t do this. I need to hear that you’re sorry.” He’s all but holding up the Master by blonde locks as he scolds him.
“I’m not-“
“- That’s not an apology.” He lets go, hand trailing down his front now. “I’ll leave. Don’t think I won’t.”
That’s more convincing, to the Master. Especially if he doesn’t know if leaving also consists of that dreaded sedative bag…
“Mhh…” He only starts with an uncertain noise, while the Doctor watches. His hand teases and trails the Master’s pelvis with that same light touch that keeps spiraling him. His eyes close, unable to look at any smugness when he says it.
“I’m…” As he starts, the Doctor reaches down to grope him, squeezing the base of the Master’s cock and balls without warning. “- I’m- I’m sor-ry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” he whines, losing balance as he ruts against his hand. He buries his face in his shoulder, the crook of his neck… He might still be whimpering those two words.
The Doctor sighs in gratification, free arm wrapping around the Master, hand finding his hair while the other presses against him. His lips brush against the top of his head. “I know, I know…” They’d work on how sorry he actually was, later. Because it wouldn’t be enough. Right now he isn’t sure if it ever will be.
“I know. I forgive you.” he says it while he strokes and guides the Master further between his legs. He’s expecting another negative response, but instead, he’s whimpering against his neck. The Master didn’t know what had come over him, but he’d just do what he kept doing- blaming the liquid regen.
Hips thrust, and it’s only between the Doctor’s cheeks, and both of them react anyways. “Bet you’re already ready for it…” he grumbles, still hiding in the Doctor, who comes to stroke his hair again.
His hearts were racing and it’s the Doctor’s turn to feel dizzy, the Master’s voice so warm and so close to his ear, feeling him tease… “… You should bite me.” he says, less a suggestion and more a statement that the Master had no choice but to listen to.
And the Master hardly needs instruction to do such a thing. There’s no thought behind it, only the immediate action of mouth opening and teeth sinking in. The Doctor’s eyes flutter, fingers curling tight in his hair.
“Like- Like that. Just like that, Master.” The Doctor says, chin tilting in a slight nod as the Master does as told. He’s wriggling underneath him again. Trying to get what he wants, trying to move his hips just right…
Finally, he pulls his hair, making his jaw release and dragging the Master up for another kiss. His lips are wet, this time. He can still feel the Master’s spit on his neck, too.
When they pull away the Doctor sighs. “Why aren’t you inside me, already? Said it yourself- already ready for it…” he says, dragging him ever closer, a leg hooking around his waist… “And you are too. Rutting against me like a dog…” the Doctor is so incredibly fond when he says it, too, and it only makes the Master’s stomach flip harder.
“Don't say it like…” The Doctor sighs over his arguing, swiping nails down his shoulder in order to shut him up. All of the Doctor’s enthusiasm makes it hard for the Master to focus on any one thing. He’s being stretched thin, and pulled ever closer to the Doctor.
His hands move, when he remembers he has hands, again. One moves to help press his cockhead to his hole. The other is holding him upright over the Doctor. His brow knits in brief thought at how fast they'd gotten here… “You’re… Sure you don’t want any prep..” he mumbles, as the Doctor’s eyes find his again. He huffs.
“I know you’ve been adorably oblivious and repressed since regenerating, but Master, are you really that surprised that I might want it to hurt?” And- well- no- no, the Master isn’t surprised... He’s just surprised to hear it put so bluntly. Heard, loud and clear. So he presses in, watching the Doctor hiss softly, getting lost in watching his expression change and his jaw drop.
The Master’s hand grabs the Doctor’s hip. He’s inside of him. He’s hot, and tight, and whimpering something fierce as he adjusts to the stretch.. Despite being the one to check in for prep, he barely even realizes how hard he’s thrusting, right away. No build up. Pushing despite any resistance. Too focused on getting as deep inside the Doctor as fast as possible… And here the Doctor was thinking he’d have to keep guiding him into it. His head is thrown back against the bed, and he’s hissing at first. Then it turns into a sharp moan, and nothing about this could be orchestrated, anymore…
His hand comes up, grips his shoulder tight. Another moan. “Master…”
His name used like a reward, encouraging him to dig nails in deeper. To bite harder. He meant it, wanting him to make him his. Each others’, in the way only they could be. “Master…” His name, meant just for him. And each time he says it, the tighter the coil at the base of the Master’s spine winds. Each time he hears it, he whines, and hips slam into him especially hard.
Teeth find purchase in the Doctor’s skin again. He bites, and bites, nuzzling his head like he was trying to rip him up. It makes the Doctor’s eyes roll back, and nails dig into the base of his neck, but that might only encourage the Master more...
The motions are getting staggered, and if the Doctor took the time to think about it, he’d probably be surprised at how much stamina the Master has. He’d have to look after him, later, after exerting him so much… Thrusts becoming erratic. Breathing over him harder, and harder. His face so red… Is the Master already close, the Doctor notices?
He shakily grabs the Master’s hand at his hip, and brings it to his cock, leaky and throbbing against his abdomen. His hand moves without question, stroking in an erratic attempt to match any timing he may have had, at some point.
The Doctor sighs heavy, dissolving into another moan. He swallows a breath. That feeling coils in his stomach again. Suddenly there’s only one thing he wants.
“— Tell me I win.” He says, sudden and insistent. He takes the Master’s face in his hands, refusing to let him look away. He strokes his cheeks, his jawline, pushing sweaty blonde hair from his forehead through soft grunts and noises. The Master doesn’t say anything in reply, a noise stuck in the back of his throat. The only protest he can give at this rate.
The Doctor tries again. At least he’s coherent, capable of speech, which means he has a leg up… And, literally, he has one leg up and hooked around the Master. “Tell me I win. I win. Tell me I win, Master.”
Fingers curl tight into his hair, holding him close. The three words he keeps repeating are sharp and unrelenting and make the Master dizzy and near sick…
The Doctor doesn’t stop, though. At this rate he probably can’t. “I win. I win. I win. Tell me I win. I do. I win.” He says, both legs curling tighter around his waist, giving the Master so little space to actually move now. And, finally, finally, he collapses on top of the Doctor. His arm gives in, and his weight presses all into the other Time Lord, rutting into him with his voice heavy in his ear.
He can’t take it anymore. The Master whines, and gets choked up, and it’s such a struggle until the words finally come tumbling out of his mouth in cries. “You- You win!” “Good,“ “You win. You wi-in, you win…” He says, nodding. Or.. Maybe that’s the Doctor, guiding his head up and down in a nod as he babbles. “That’s- That’s right. I won, didn’t I?”
And the Doctor doesn’t expect everything to hit so hard, all at once. He won. Before anything else, the Master can see it by the way the Doctor’s neck stretches, the moan that rips from his throat. He won. He’s coming into his hand. He keeps stroking, as compulsive as the two word chant is while he grinds into his hips. He won.
“You- You win. You win…” the Master says, over, and over, while he thrusts, over and over, chasing his ends after doing so well for the Doctor..
The Doctor swallows hard, watching the Master just on top of him… His hand moves around, cupping his face with a breathy smile. Finding his eyes. Finally. He won. He won. But not without rewarding the other Time Lord…
”My Master…”
“… Master? Master?”
His eyes flutter open, against the Doctor’s shoulder. His fingers are pushing through his hair gently, guiding him to look up at him. He blinks the haze out of his eyes.
“Oh! Ohh, thank goodness. There you are.” He says, holding his cheeks in his hands. The Master’s eyebrows knit.
“I… I was…”
“… You uh. You finished. Yeah.” He says, looking him over. “And then you blacked out, for a minute. I was worried about you!”
There’s a bit of immediate guilt that gnaws at him, but the Master seems fine, and he’s blinking recognition back into his gaze…
He smiles something dumb up at him.
“Your Master…” he hums in response, and the Doctor flushes, and giggles a little. It’s a little easier to let go of the tension now that he knows he’s okay.
“… I should have known that would be too much for you right now.” he says gently.
“I think that might be an important part of the manual regeneration process, or something…” he replies. “Oh, come on! You could have gotten yourself hurt, Mast…er…” He watches as the Master rolls his eyes and ignores him in lieu of freeing his arm from between their chests. The Doctor’s lips part as the other man brings his hand up to shamelessly lick a large gob of his cum right from his palm. And then he hisses, when the Master disdainfully wipes the rest right onto the other Time Lord’s arm.
“Eugh- Master-!“ He jerks his arm away but it’s too late, so he scowls before wiping it off with his hand… The Master laughs, and it’s hard to be upset when he hears that.
He looks down at him, and can’t help but smile.
“… Can you even move now?” The Doctor asks, in partial curiosity. “That was irresponsible of me. You shouldn’t be on top like that, in the state you’re in…”
“Mmm felt fine from where I was…” The Master insists. Albeit, he’s also ignoring a creeping ache throughout… His entire body.
”Oh, yeah, I’m sure. Let’s see how you feel when you wake up, hm? Don’t come crying to me for painkillers…” the Doctor replies softly, pressing his lips to his forehead.
“… You’re basically here for me to cry to you for painkillers…” the Master says in return, wriggling away from the soft kiss. “Not like your circumstances, Mr. I-Might-Want-It-To-Hurt… I thought it was your job to take care of me. That includes giving me stuff to make it feel better.”
At least he remembers. He worried. The Doctor chuckles. “I’ll see how you feel when you wake up… But that is what the artron energy is for, Master. Making you feel better.”
“Oh, I think I’ve had enough of that stuff for a little while. I’m good, thanks.” He says, nuzzling into the Doctor’s neck, against his bite mark. The Doctor sucks in a quiet, sharp breath through his teeth.
“Mm… We’ll see about that…” He says in reply, and the Master pouts. “What?” he says, and the Doctor responds, “What?”
They sit like that, for a few more moments. And then the Doctor is shifting them around.
“Well. Now I have to clean you up, and check all your levels. Maybe we’ll do an electrolyte IV pack…” the Doctor is standing up, hopping back into his pants, yanking his trousers on.. “I’ll check your hearts. Pop on some new bedding…” He pulls his shirt on, doing the buttons halfway.
The Master raises an eyebrow. “Can I have a shirt this time, too?” he asks, leaning on his side.
“- Oh. Right! Right, clothes, you need clothes, too!” The Doctor says, as eyes roam over the Master’s body. “And you should probably try to eat something while you’re awake. There’s a lot of work to do.”
“But you, Master,” the Doctor smiles over to the Master, and leans over to squeeze his hand. “you just need to rest.”
Im_Not_Here_Shoo on Chapter 2 Thu 26 Jun 2025 05:31AM UTC
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canisonicscrewyou on Chapter 2 Thu 26 Jun 2025 08:15PM UTC
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