Merely Players (Ten/Simm!Master, NC-17)
Title: Merely Players
Author: von_gelmini
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Ten/Simm!Master
Rating: NC-18
Word Count: 2182
Warnings: explicit sex
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. I am not writing this for profit.
A/N: This is a stand-alone story, not part of any other works.
Merely Players
It had been centuries since the Doctor had spent this much time in close proximity to his enemy, sometimes rival, former friend, and ex-lover. The recycled air on the Valiant was filled with his scent. Even when not trying, he could sense the presence of the other Time Lord’s mind. All the time. Every minute. Every second. Every breath. Every beat of his hearts. His senses were filled with the presence of the Master. Other than the occasional bout of gloating over his latest atrocity, the Master ignored the preternaturally aged Doctor. He had better things to occupy his twisted mind. Burning Japan. Enslaving the remaining population. Overseeing the daily executions.
The Doctor tried to ignore the itch tearing at his senses. He observed the Master from the flap of his tent. The other Time Lord was draped over his wife, pawing at her in front of everyone in the conference room. He thought it might be for his benefit, but the Master was completely unaware of the Doctor’s observation of him.
It was driving him mad. If there was one constant in the universe, it was the Master trying desperately to get the Doctor’s attention with his outrageous schemes. This scheme though seemed to take on a life of its own, entirely outside of its effect on the Doctor. And though the Doctor wouldn’t admit it, he was feeling quite miffed at the neglect.
Even though a Time Lord’s circadian rhythm didn’t require the usual 24 hour cycle of night and day, the Master kept the ship on Earth time. The lights dimmed every night at midnight and didn’t brighten until six a.m. It made no difference to the Doctor. He sat in his tent attuning himself to the archangel network. Even distracted as he was by the Master’s presence, he still had to work on his plan to right the Master’s wrongs.
And that night he was more than distracted. He couldn’t concentrate on the frequency of the network. The only frequency that interested him was the four-four beat of the Master’s heart and the sound of his blood rushing through his veins. He heard the beat quicken. He heard the breaths pant. He knew that the Master was enjoying the company of his wife. Despite being half a ship away, the Doctor could hear the Master’s ragged breathing and the deep guttural sound of his rut. The scent grew overpowering as the Master’s Gallifreyan pheromones assaulted his nostrils. Shame reddened his cheeks as the Doctor realized what his hand had begun doing of its own volition. In his decrepitude, such a response should be barely possible, yet there it was, his body’s betrayal tenting his trousers.
He took his hand away and willed himself to ignore the noises that echoed in his ears. To not listen to that familiar groaning cry the Master made as he came inside his wife. The Doctor curled up on his mat of grass and weeds and tried to forget what those sounds made him remember. Lifetimes ago. Centuries ago. He was a different man then. They both were. Before. Before betrayal. Before heartsbreak. Before murder and destruction and genocide. To forget when those sounds and that scent belonged to him alone.
The Doctor heard the footsteps in the corridor before the conference room door opened. It wasn’t unusual for the Master to spend the nights working in the command and conference center of the ship. At first, the Doctor anticipated his arrivals expecting the Master’s torment. But it never came. The Master never disturbed the old man he’d become during his restless nights.
Even when the Doctor wished he would.
Like tonight.
He lifted the corner of the tent flap. The Master sat in his chair poring over a computer tablet. Conquering the world was hard work. The Doctor smiled despite himself, watching the Master furrow his brow at some sticky bit of data. Memories again. His old friend studying in their dorm room, his brow creased in exactly the same way, despite wearing a different face at the time. He opened the flap and sat in the doorway it made.
“Koschei?” His old voice sounded alien to him.
The only acknowledgement that the Master heard him was a long blink and a hitch in his heartsbeat. It was enough.
The Doctor crept out of the tent, scooting along the floor. “Master?”
A tiny smirk at the corner of the other man’s mouth - there for barely a moment and then gone.
He crept closer until he was sitting near the Master’s feet. He didn’t want to be there. He wanted to be anywhere but there. But there he was. Sitting at the Master’s feet. Unable to move back to where he belonged.
Without looking up from the computer, the Master fiddled with his laser screwdriver, aiming it at the Doctor. The Lazarus effect reversed immediately and painlessly, unlike the cause of it, and the Doctor found himself young again.
“Is that what you wanted?” the Master asked.
“Well it isn’t unwelcome,” the Doctor admitted.
“Anything else?”
The Doctor crept the final distance between them until he was nearly touching the Master’s leg. He couldn’t say it though. Not the words. Not those words. Not after everything. Not with Earth burning beneath them.
“Well then. I’ve finished here,” the Master said, pushing his chair away from the table. “I’ll be going.”
“No,” the Doctor said with a whispered gasp.
“What was that, Doctor?”
The Doctor swallowed and closed his eyes. He breathed deep the near scent of his former lover. The memories overwhelmed him. “Don’t go Koschei,” he said with a sob.
The Master scoffed. “You always were a sentimental fool.”
“Tell me you don’t remember,” the Doctor said, meeting the Master’s gaze.
“Oh, I remember too well, Theta.” He leaned back a little in the chair and let his legs spread open. He smirked down at the Doctor. “You haven’t changed. You still can’t admit what you want.”
“I know what I want. But I know that you’ll never change,” the Doctor said sadly.
“Nor you.”
The Doctor sighed.
“Say it.”
“Don’t.”
“Then I’ll not give it to you.”
“You deny yourself as well.”
The Master shrugged. “You, Lucy, Jack, Tish, doesn’t matter to me.”
“Now who’s lying to himself.”
“What do you want,” the Master asked again with deliberateness.
The Doctor desperately wanted to say ‘nothing’ and scurry back to his tent. But those words wouldn’t come. Instead he stayed kneeling at the Master’s feet and looked down at the floor. He knew he’d relent. He couldn’t not. Not with the Master everpresent in his senses and his mind now and for the past few months. He couldn’t deny his body’s desire. That’s all it was. A body-memory. From a time long ago. From a body long gone. It couldn’t be more. He wouldn’t let it be more.
The Master canted his hips forward, his hands framing the bulge of his crotch.
He was a nine-hundred year old Time Lord. Such things should be past his concern. But they never were where the Master was concerned. He had been in the presence of the most famed beauties and courtesans of all of time and none commanded his desire like his first lover still could.
“I want you, Ko...” The Master’s look made him stop. “I want you, Master.”
The Master smirked. “You held out longer that I thought you would.”
The Doctor reddened. The Master pushed the edges of his suit jacket to the side and unzipped his fly. The Doctor knelt between the other Time Lord’s knees and reached into his trousers freeing his semi-erect cock. He felt a shiver run through him at the touch of his hand on the Master’s cool flesh. The frisson went straight to his own prick and woke his need as fresh as if it were yesterday they were last together. His lips parted with need.
“That’s it,” the Master said, looking down at the man on his knees. “Ask.”
“Please Master,” the Doctor began. “Please let me suck your cock.”
“Mmm. You always did sound so lovely when you submit. I never could deny you.” The Master nodded his assent.
The Doctor leaned forward and stroked the Master’s cock. With his other hand he reached into his fly and lifted his balls out, kneading them gently as he slid the foreskin back across the head, revealing it then hiding it again. When it was shining with pre-come, the Doctor took it between his lips in a slow, wet kiss. He followed that with a long lick of his tongue, swirling it around the ridge. He slid it between the head and the foreskin and sucked the thin flesh between his teeth, lightly tugging it.
The Master made a long, hissing moan. “Fuck,” he groaned low in his throat and thrust his hips to meet the Doctor’s mouth as it descended on his length.
The Doctor remembered all the things he used to do to drive his lover Koschei wild. Centuries could never diminish that memory. Despite their different bodies, there was something that just felt so right about being with the Master again. So much history between them. Love at first then battles interspersed with desperate moments like this one where they tried hopelessly to regain some of what they’d lost.
It didn’t do a Time Lord well to think on things that shouldn’t be changed. The temptations grew too great. So instead of thinking, the Doctor tried to abandon himself to the here and now. No thoughts beyond the feel of the Master’s cock in his mouth. Nothing beyond the scent of him and the taste of him and the touch of his hand on the back of his head and how very, very right it all felt. He shouldn’t be feeling such joy as the world below felt such pain. But it was joy.
If only. If only. If only! If only all the time between them hadn’t passed. If only different choices had been made in their lives. Stop thinking!
He moaned in frustration and the sound vibrated around the Master’s cock. The other man shuddered and his fingers tightened in his hair. He repeated the action and was again rewarded with another response. He fell into the game, smiling inwardly at each success. But he had to tread a fine line because he didn’t want it to all end too quickly. He danced that balance, keeping the Master interested but not able to find release.
“Rassilon, Theete!” the Master cried out. “Finish me!”
The Doctor laughed in his mind, sharing the thought with the Master. Relenting, he sucked down the Master’s length. He pressed his tongue along the underside, swallowing deeply tightening his throat around the firm throbbing flesh. He knew just what to do and was soon rewarded with Master’s deep growling cry and the salt-sweet taste of the Master’s come.
He wrapped his arms around the Master’s hips and held him tightly, not wanting to let go until the last drop of his essence had been taken into him. Gods why couldn’t this just be! Why couldn’t their lives be this simple. Just go back in time, just change things, just make it all better.
“Sentimental fool,” the Master purred. “Just stop fighting me and it would be that easy.”
The Doctor rested his head on the Master’s thigh. “Just stop your wanton destruction and petulant tantrums and it would be that easy.”
The Master chuckled. “It all has to play out the way it was written.”
“I don’t believe in fate.”
“It believes in you. We all play our part. But there’s no reason we can’t enjoy ourselves along the way.” His finger traced the line of the Doctor’s jaw.
“It won’t change anything, will it?” the Doctor asked.
“Whether or not we take this time for ourselves, I will still carry out my plans.”
“I know. And I must stop you.”
“I know.”
“But until then?” the Doctor sat cross-legged between the Master’s feet.
The Master shrugged. “Let’s see how this plays out, eh? Come to bed with me.”
The Doctor hesitated.
“Not her bed, you dolt. Gods, do you really think I’ve been fucking her for anything other than to get you to this point right here?”
“No,” the Doctor said with a chuckle. “Not really.”
The Master zipped his fly and straightened his clothes. Standing, he reached a hand down to the Doctor. “Well?”
“Will you stop?”
“No. And you?”
“No.”
“So then.” The Master waggled his outstretched hand. “Coming?”
The Doctor reached up and clasped it in his own, pulling himself to his feet. “Yeah.”
No one would ever understand this thing he and the Master had between them. He didn’t understand it himself. But it was there. It was always there. And it always would be there. Denying it didn’t make it not so, so what was the point? He slipped his arm around the Master’s waist.
“I really hate you, you know,” he said with a sigh.
The Master just grinned.
Author: von_gelmini
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Ten/Simm!Master
Rating: NC-18
Word Count: 2182
Warnings: explicit sex
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. I am not writing this for profit.
A/N: This is a stand-alone story, not part of any other works.
Merely Players
It had been centuries since the Doctor had spent this much time in close proximity to his enemy, sometimes rival, former friend, and ex-lover. The recycled air on the Valiant was filled with his scent. Even when not trying, he could sense the presence of the other Time Lord’s mind. All the time. Every minute. Every second. Every breath. Every beat of his hearts. His senses were filled with the presence of the Master. Other than the occasional bout of gloating over his latest atrocity, the Master ignored the preternaturally aged Doctor. He had better things to occupy his twisted mind. Burning Japan. Enslaving the remaining population. Overseeing the daily executions.
The Doctor tried to ignore the itch tearing at his senses. He observed the Master from the flap of his tent. The other Time Lord was draped over his wife, pawing at her in front of everyone in the conference room. He thought it might be for his benefit, but the Master was completely unaware of the Doctor’s observation of him.
It was driving him mad. If there was one constant in the universe, it was the Master trying desperately to get the Doctor’s attention with his outrageous schemes. This scheme though seemed to take on a life of its own, entirely outside of its effect on the Doctor. And though the Doctor wouldn’t admit it, he was feeling quite miffed at the neglect.
Even though a Time Lord’s circadian rhythm didn’t require the usual 24 hour cycle of night and day, the Master kept the ship on Earth time. The lights dimmed every night at midnight and didn’t brighten until six a.m. It made no difference to the Doctor. He sat in his tent attuning himself to the archangel network. Even distracted as he was by the Master’s presence, he still had to work on his plan to right the Master’s wrongs.
And that night he was more than distracted. He couldn’t concentrate on the frequency of the network. The only frequency that interested him was the four-four beat of the Master’s heart and the sound of his blood rushing through his veins. He heard the beat quicken. He heard the breaths pant. He knew that the Master was enjoying the company of his wife. Despite being half a ship away, the Doctor could hear the Master’s ragged breathing and the deep guttural sound of his rut. The scent grew overpowering as the Master’s Gallifreyan pheromones assaulted his nostrils. Shame reddened his cheeks as the Doctor realized what his hand had begun doing of its own volition. In his decrepitude, such a response should be barely possible, yet there it was, his body’s betrayal tenting his trousers.
He took his hand away and willed himself to ignore the noises that echoed in his ears. To not listen to that familiar groaning cry the Master made as he came inside his wife. The Doctor curled up on his mat of grass and weeds and tried to forget what those sounds made him remember. Lifetimes ago. Centuries ago. He was a different man then. They both were. Before. Before betrayal. Before heartsbreak. Before murder and destruction and genocide. To forget when those sounds and that scent belonged to him alone.
The Doctor heard the footsteps in the corridor before the conference room door opened. It wasn’t unusual for the Master to spend the nights working in the command and conference center of the ship. At first, the Doctor anticipated his arrivals expecting the Master’s torment. But it never came. The Master never disturbed the old man he’d become during his restless nights.
Even when the Doctor wished he would.
Like tonight.
He lifted the corner of the tent flap. The Master sat in his chair poring over a computer tablet. Conquering the world was hard work. The Doctor smiled despite himself, watching the Master furrow his brow at some sticky bit of data. Memories again. His old friend studying in their dorm room, his brow creased in exactly the same way, despite wearing a different face at the time. He opened the flap and sat in the doorway it made.
“Koschei?” His old voice sounded alien to him.
The only acknowledgement that the Master heard him was a long blink and a hitch in his heartsbeat. It was enough.
The Doctor crept out of the tent, scooting along the floor. “Master?”
A tiny smirk at the corner of the other man’s mouth - there for barely a moment and then gone.
He crept closer until he was sitting near the Master’s feet. He didn’t want to be there. He wanted to be anywhere but there. But there he was. Sitting at the Master’s feet. Unable to move back to where he belonged.
Without looking up from the computer, the Master fiddled with his laser screwdriver, aiming it at the Doctor. The Lazarus effect reversed immediately and painlessly, unlike the cause of it, and the Doctor found himself young again.
“Is that what you wanted?” the Master asked.
“Well it isn’t unwelcome,” the Doctor admitted.
“Anything else?”
The Doctor crept the final distance between them until he was nearly touching the Master’s leg. He couldn’t say it though. Not the words. Not those words. Not after everything. Not with Earth burning beneath them.
“Well then. I’ve finished here,” the Master said, pushing his chair away from the table. “I’ll be going.”
“No,” the Doctor said with a whispered gasp.
“What was that, Doctor?”
The Doctor swallowed and closed his eyes. He breathed deep the near scent of his former lover. The memories overwhelmed him. “Don’t go Koschei,” he said with a sob.
The Master scoffed. “You always were a sentimental fool.”
“Tell me you don’t remember,” the Doctor said, meeting the Master’s gaze.
“Oh, I remember too well, Theta.” He leaned back a little in the chair and let his legs spread open. He smirked down at the Doctor. “You haven’t changed. You still can’t admit what you want.”
“I know what I want. But I know that you’ll never change,” the Doctor said sadly.
“Nor you.”
The Doctor sighed.
“Say it.”
“Don’t.”
“Then I’ll not give it to you.”
“You deny yourself as well.”
The Master shrugged. “You, Lucy, Jack, Tish, doesn’t matter to me.”
“Now who’s lying to himself.”
“What do you want,” the Master asked again with deliberateness.
The Doctor desperately wanted to say ‘nothing’ and scurry back to his tent. But those words wouldn’t come. Instead he stayed kneeling at the Master’s feet and looked down at the floor. He knew he’d relent. He couldn’t not. Not with the Master everpresent in his senses and his mind now and for the past few months. He couldn’t deny his body’s desire. That’s all it was. A body-memory. From a time long ago. From a body long gone. It couldn’t be more. He wouldn’t let it be more.
The Master canted his hips forward, his hands framing the bulge of his crotch.
He was a nine-hundred year old Time Lord. Such things should be past his concern. But they never were where the Master was concerned. He had been in the presence of the most famed beauties and courtesans of all of time and none commanded his desire like his first lover still could.
“I want you, Ko...” The Master’s look made him stop. “I want you, Master.”
The Master smirked. “You held out longer that I thought you would.”
The Doctor reddened. The Master pushed the edges of his suit jacket to the side and unzipped his fly. The Doctor knelt between the other Time Lord’s knees and reached into his trousers freeing his semi-erect cock. He felt a shiver run through him at the touch of his hand on the Master’s cool flesh. The frisson went straight to his own prick and woke his need as fresh as if it were yesterday they were last together. His lips parted with need.
“That’s it,” the Master said, looking down at the man on his knees. “Ask.”
“Please Master,” the Doctor began. “Please let me suck your cock.”
“Mmm. You always did sound so lovely when you submit. I never could deny you.” The Master nodded his assent.
The Doctor leaned forward and stroked the Master’s cock. With his other hand he reached into his fly and lifted his balls out, kneading them gently as he slid the foreskin back across the head, revealing it then hiding it again. When it was shining with pre-come, the Doctor took it between his lips in a slow, wet kiss. He followed that with a long lick of his tongue, swirling it around the ridge. He slid it between the head and the foreskin and sucked the thin flesh between his teeth, lightly tugging it.
The Master made a long, hissing moan. “Fuck,” he groaned low in his throat and thrust his hips to meet the Doctor’s mouth as it descended on his length.
The Doctor remembered all the things he used to do to drive his lover Koschei wild. Centuries could never diminish that memory. Despite their different bodies, there was something that just felt so right about being with the Master again. So much history between them. Love at first then battles interspersed with desperate moments like this one where they tried hopelessly to regain some of what they’d lost.
It didn’t do a Time Lord well to think on things that shouldn’t be changed. The temptations grew too great. So instead of thinking, the Doctor tried to abandon himself to the here and now. No thoughts beyond the feel of the Master’s cock in his mouth. Nothing beyond the scent of him and the taste of him and the touch of his hand on the back of his head and how very, very right it all felt. He shouldn’t be feeling such joy as the world below felt such pain. But it was joy.
If only. If only. If only! If only all the time between them hadn’t passed. If only different choices had been made in their lives. Stop thinking!
He moaned in frustration and the sound vibrated around the Master’s cock. The other man shuddered and his fingers tightened in his hair. He repeated the action and was again rewarded with another response. He fell into the game, smiling inwardly at each success. But he had to tread a fine line because he didn’t want it to all end too quickly. He danced that balance, keeping the Master interested but not able to find release.
“Rassilon, Theete!” the Master cried out. “Finish me!”
The Doctor laughed in his mind, sharing the thought with the Master. Relenting, he sucked down the Master’s length. He pressed his tongue along the underside, swallowing deeply tightening his throat around the firm throbbing flesh. He knew just what to do and was soon rewarded with Master’s deep growling cry and the salt-sweet taste of the Master’s come.
He wrapped his arms around the Master’s hips and held him tightly, not wanting to let go until the last drop of his essence had been taken into him. Gods why couldn’t this just be! Why couldn’t their lives be this simple. Just go back in time, just change things, just make it all better.
“Sentimental fool,” the Master purred. “Just stop fighting me and it would be that easy.”
The Doctor rested his head on the Master’s thigh. “Just stop your wanton destruction and petulant tantrums and it would be that easy.”
The Master chuckled. “It all has to play out the way it was written.”
“I don’t believe in fate.”
“It believes in you. We all play our part. But there’s no reason we can’t enjoy ourselves along the way.” His finger traced the line of the Doctor’s jaw.
“It won’t change anything, will it?” the Doctor asked.
“Whether or not we take this time for ourselves, I will still carry out my plans.”
“I know. And I must stop you.”
“I know.”
“But until then?” the Doctor sat cross-legged between the Master’s feet.
The Master shrugged. “Let’s see how this plays out, eh? Come to bed with me.”
The Doctor hesitated.
“Not her bed, you dolt. Gods, do you really think I’ve been fucking her for anything other than to get you to this point right here?”
“No,” the Doctor said with a chuckle. “Not really.”
The Master zipped his fly and straightened his clothes. Standing, he reached a hand down to the Doctor. “Well?”
“Will you stop?”
“No. And you?”
“No.”
“So then.” The Master waggled his outstretched hand. “Coming?”
The Doctor reached up and clasped it in his own, pulling himself to his feet. “Yeah.”
No one would ever understand this thing he and the Master had between them. He didn’t understand it himself. But it was there. It was always there. And it always would be there. Denying it didn’t make it not so, so what was the point? He slipped his arm around the Master’s waist.
“I really hate you, you know,” he said with a sigh.
The Master just grinned.