Title: What You Need
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/The Master
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: NC-17
Table: 5
Prompt: 2, Ass
Warnings: non-con
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor or the Master. Please do not sue.


The Doctor clenched his fists, wishing that he could pull his hands free of his bonds. The Master was good at tying knots, he had to admit that; he'd twisted his wrists in every possible way, struggling to free himself, before he'd come to the reluctant conclusion that he was trapped. He would have to give in and endure whatever the Master had planned for him.

He had no idea just what the other Time Lord intended to do with him, but the fact that he'd been positioned on his stomach, his legs spread wide, his wrists bound to the iron bedstead above his head, didn't bode well. The Master had even thought to slip a few pillows beneath his crotch to raise his ass into the air, but the Doctor seriously doubted that it was for his own comfort. That was never a consideration with the Master.

It was humiliating to have to lie here like this, feeling opened and exposed. He'd struggled to close his legs at first, until his thigh muscles had cramped painfully; but he'd had to give up in frustration. There was nothing he could do but wait to find out what the Master's plans were, though he was sure that he wouldn't be happy with them.

Even more humiliating was his body's inability to hide his own arousal; the cock ring encircling his erection made sure of that. He would more than likely have to beg the Master to let him come, and that thought was even more unpleasant than the idea of whatever the Master was planning to do to him.

The Master hadn't been there when he'd awakened from the drugged stupor he'd been in; the last thing the Doctor remembered was a cloth clamped over his nose and mouth, the Master's arm like an iron band encircling his waist. He'd tried to hold his breath, tried to squirm away before the chloroform had affected him, but he'd obviously failed.

Where was his nemesis now? The Doctor had no idea, but he was sure that Master was going to show up soon. And the other Time Lord would probably have something in mind to do with him, considering that he was trussed up like something out of one of those pornographic films that Jack liked so much.

Ah. Unless his hearing deceived him, that was the Master's tread entering the room now. It was unmistakable; not the sound of his footsteps, but the air of controlled menace that seemed to precede him everywhere. Or maybe that was only detectable to him, the Doctor thought, feeling his muscles tense in anticipation.

Why had the other Time Lord bothered to knock him out? The Doctor frowned, unable to come up with a valid reason for the Master to do such a thing. He couldn't have been worried about the Doctor's resistance; he knew that he had the capability to bring that to a standstill. Having him unconscious really didn't make sense.

Unless, of course, the Master had merely wanted to feel more in control, to feel that he was overpowering the Doctor, rendering him completely helpless. Yes, that was probably it. The Master had always had that driving need to control him, to feel that he owned the Doctor. The Time Lord nearly snorted, but held the sound back. No matter how the Master tried, he would never be owned. He would die first.

He didn't turn his head when he felt the Master sit down on the bed beside him; he didn't want to look at the other Time Lord, didn't want to face his tormentor head-on. It was already all too easy for the Master to read what was in his mind; the Doctor didn't intend to give him the satisfaction of seeing his uneasiness mirrored in his eyes.

"Well, Doctor." The Master's voice sounded almost cheerful, as though he intended to engage the Doctor in some pleasant conversation, and nothing more. "You're certainly looking quite lovely today. How are you feeling?"

"Not particularly up to par, considering that you drugged me." The Doctor's voice was dry, neutral; he wasn't going to give the Master any more words than he had to. He had the feeling that he'd probably already said too much, as it didn't take more than a few words to send the Master into one of his bouts of bad temper.

"That, my dear, was necessary. I knew that you wouldn't simply walk into this room and submit yourself to me -- it was much easier to make sure that you were positioned the way I want you when you weren't struggling against me." The Master's voice sounded smug, self-congratulatory. The Doctor wanted to reach out and slap away the insolent smile that he knew the other man would definitely be wearing.

"Just what do you intend to do with me? Now that you have me exactly where you want me, of course." The Doctor was trying to keep his voice calm, disinterested, but he could feel his stomach muscles tightening with anxiety -- and not a little fear. Whatever the Master had it in his mind to do to him, he was sure that it wouldn't be pleasurable.

"I think I'll let you wonder about that for a while, Doctor." The Master's voice still carried that smugness, that knowledge that the Doctor was helpless in his clutches. The Time Lord's hands clenched into fists; he hated this, hated feeling so completely helpless. If there was ever a point in the future when the tables were turned, he vowed to himself, then the Master would live to remember this day -- and regret it.

The Doctor's fists clenched again, his teeth almost grinding at the same time. He hated it when the Master teased him like this; he'd rather know just what he could expect so that he'd be able to prepare himself for it. But the Master seemed determined to make him wait, keep him in suspense of whatever was going to be done to him. He should have expected that.

He couldn't keep back a sharp gasp when the Master's fingers began to massage between his shoulder blades, slowly moving down his back, pressing along his spine. Was it his imagination, or was that touch .... gentle? That was something new. He couldn't remember the Master ever being gentle with him, not in all the centuries of their long acquaintance.

Those fingers continued to work their way down his spine, until the Master was stroking the small of his back, just above the curve of his ass. The Doctor could feel his stomach muscles tightening again; whatever the Master might plan to do, he knew instinctively that it wouldn't be pleasant. The Master never did anything for the Doctor's pleasure -- only his own. And his greatest pleasure was in inflicting pain.

"You're really quite beautiful, Doctor," the Master purred, stroking his fingertips lightly over one rounded ass cheek, then the other. "You've regenerated into the perfect body this time around. I've taken quite a fancy to your pert little bum, you know."

The Doctor could hardly keep himself from snorting this time; the Master never gave him compliments, not ones that were sincere, at any rate. "You might as well drop the sweet talk and get to whatever it is that you intend to do to me. Go on, get it over with." He shuddered as those fingers stroked down the cleft between his cheeks, knowing where they were headed and not wanting to endure that touch on such an intimate area of his body.

"Thank you, Doctor, I believe I will." Those fingers were moving lower now, spreading him, one fingertip stroking over the tender bud nestled between his cheeks. The Doctor had to bite back a moan; he hated this man's touch, but he had to admit that the Master knew exactly how to get the reaction he expected.

"But you know .... I have no intention of 'getting it over with' quickly, as you put it," the Master continued, his tone still chatty and almost friendly. "It's much more fun to tease you, Doctor, to make you beg for release. I can keep this up for hours, you know. I can force you to beg me, no matter how much you may think that you'll never sink that low."

"No," the Doctor ground out, clenching his jaw to keep back another moan. He wasn't going to let the Master see how aroused he already was -- that would only be giving credence to his words, and the Doctor was determined not to give this megalomaniac what he wanted.

The Doctor winced as the tip of one finger pressed inside him; it wasn't painful, not at this stage, but he'd had more than enough sexual experience to know that without lube, pain was inevitable. He had to sink his teeth into his lower lip to keep himself from gasping when that finger pushed deeper into him, his muscles tightening around the invasion.

"I think differently, Doctor," the Master whispered, leaning over the Time Lord and brushing his lips against the Doctor's ear. "I can have you begging in record time, and all I'll have to do is keep doing exactly what I am now. You know you can't resist this, Doctor. You're already gagging for it, even if you try not to let it show."

The Doctor didn't answer; all of his concentration was taken up in trying not to let a sound leave his lips. He hated to admit that the Master's words were true, but his traitorous body was proving them uncomfortably so. His teeth sank into his lower lip, biting back any sound, his fists clenching and twisting against his bonds.

"You can't fool me, Doctor." The Master's voice resounded in his ear, the words soft and almost soothing in a strange way. "I know you want this. I know you want to be filled -- you want my cock inside you, don't you? Come now, you can tell me. You don't have to hold back, you know. Let it out, Doctor, tell me what you want. Tell me exactly how you want it."

"You really don't think I'm going to do that, do you?" the Doctor managed to grind out between clenched teeth. "I'm going to keep you guessing and not give you the satisfaction of knowing a damn thing I'm thinking. You're not going to win this round."

"Oh, really, Doctor?" The Master's voice had gone from conversational to annoyed, his words sounding clipped and cold. A second finger pushed inside the Doctor, making him yelp aloud without meaning to. It burned, being entered dry, even if it was just another finger. And he had no doubt that the Master wouldn't stop with that.

The fingers of the Master's free hand twined through his hair, pulling his head back until those lips were pressed against his ear. "If you're not careful, Doctor, I may very well decide to fuck you dry -- and I know you wouldn't enjoy being torn. That would be quite painful .... and I have ways of making it even more so. Be careful of what you may be talking yourself into. Once I decide to do something, I'm not likely to change my mind."

The Doctor winced as his hair was pulled, struggling not to gasp aloud. As much as he hated it, he had to consider the Master's words. He knew that this maniac would indeed contrive some way to make whatever he'd choose to do as painful as possible -- and he didn't want to have to suffer needlessly. He'd have to choose his words with more care.

He was obviously going to have to endure yet another brutal fucking; better to accept the inevitable and try to steel himself against whatever pain the Master would inflict upon him than to struggle. The invading fingers pushed further inside him, making him wince again and let out a soft whimper. There. The Master should like that.

He was right; the other man smiled at the sound. "Ah, Doctor, I so love to hear you sound so subservient," he almost purred, leaning over to press his lips against the small of the Time Lord's back. "For that, I think I'll be magnanimous and not take you dry. After all, I wouldn't want to tear my favourite toy, now would I?"

The Doctor didn't answer, as it didn't seem like a statement that needed any sort of response from him. Inwardly, he agreed wholeheartedly with the Master; he knew all too well how painful it was to be taken without having the benefit of lube -- and he didn't fancy the feeling of blood trickling down his thighs, not so soon after the last violation he'd suffered.

He closed his eyes, feeling the Master lean forward on the bed and hearing the sound of a drawer being opened. The other man was reaching for some sort of lubricant, he was sure; his thought was confirmed seconds later when those fingers were back between his legs again, this time coated with the thick, slippery substance as they entered him.

It was impossible to hold back his moan this time; the Master knew exactly how to probe him, those long fingers moving inside him, stroking and scissoring until he couldn't keep his hips from pushing back, his resolve to hold himself back torn to shreds.

"Ah, that's better, Doctor," the Master breathed, his eyes alight, gaze riveted on the Time Lord. The Doctor was rocking his hips back against the Master's fingers, rotating his ass against the insistent pressure, grinding his crotch into the pillow placed under his body. "If you had any idea how beautifully wanton you look .... I really should remember to get this on video sometime. You really should see yourself."

His voice became lower and huskier as he leaned down, thrusting his fingers deeper into the Doctor's ass as he whispered into the helpless man's ear. "You're such a little whore, Doctor. No matter what you may think, deep down inside, you want this. You can't live without it. You'd be happy to be my slave for the rest of your life. You were born for this, whether you choose to admit it or not. Born to be mine."

"No." The word was gasped out between tightly clenched teeth; the Doctor knew that it probably wasn't a good idea to contradict anything that the Master might choose to say at such a time, but he couldn't let a statement like that go unchallenged. He had to put up some form of resistance, if for nothing else but the sake of his own pride.

"Then what are you now, Doctor?" The voice was still soft, breathy -- slumberous with desire. "Nothing but my whore. Unwilling at the moment, perhaps .... but I'm sure that will change once I'm inside you. You can't resist that, Doctor. You've always been a slave to those feelings, haven't you? To anyone who can give you that sensation, who can fulfill that need of yours to be dominated."

"I don't want this. I don't want you," the Doctor gasped, throwing caution to the winds and voicing what was in his mind. "My body may want one thing, but you know that's merely a physical reaction. It's not what I want, not in my mind. You can take my body as many times as you want .... but you'll never have me."

"Oh, but you do, Doctor. Your stubborn mind may not admit to it, but you want me. Sooner or later, you'll say as much." The Master's voice sounded smug and confident; the Doctor wanted nothing so much as to spring at him and rip his tongue out of his mouth, anything to stop those words from assaulting his senses and to make him doubt his own resolve.

The probing fingers slid out of him with a suddenness that made the Doctor gasp. Why was the Master giving him a reprieve? His muscles tensed, the short hairs on the back of his neck prickling; he almost held his breath as he waited for whatever was to come.

The Master was no longer sitting on the bed; the Doctor couldn't fathom why for a few moments, until he heard the sound of a zipper sliding down, then fabric rustling. He didn't turn his head to the side -- he knew that he'd see the Master stepping out of his trousers, looking at him with that hungry gaze that he'd come to know so well. So that was what it would come down to, then. Yet another thing that he should have expected.

The bed dipped as the Master lowered his weight onto it behind the Doctor; the Time Lord could feel the other man's leg swinging over his body, the Master straddling him and cupping his ass, squeezing and spreading his cheeks. A shudder went through the Doctor's slender body at the touch, his muscles clenching when the Master's thumb rubbed against his entrance.

"I think you're quite ready for me, Doctor," the Master murmured, pushing his hips forward until the large, blunt tip of his cock pressed against the tiny, puckered hole. "You're going to get what you need -- whether you may want it or not."

With those words, the Master thrust his hips forward, his cock sliding into the Doctor in one smooth motion. The Time Lord swallowed a scream, his hips flexing, his body jerking under the Master's hands. The Doctor buried his face in the pillow, muffling his groans, not wanting the Master to know that, in spite of his protests, there was a part of him that enjoyed this.

The Master thrust deep inside him, then pulled nearly all of the way out, only to thrust back in again harder and deeper. The Doctor had to bite the pillow to keep from screaming; he was caught somewhere between pleasure and pain, the humiliation of being bound and taken like this not quite overriding the pleasure of being filled and thoroughly well-fucked.

That voice seemed to come from further away now, somewhere down a spiral that he was falling into, reaching him from a distance. "You need this, Doctor. You'll admit it one day. You'll beg for it -- and I'll be there to give it to you. You'll belong to me, Doctor, body and soul. I'll break you, sooner or later. Keep holding out if you choose. The longer you do, the sweeter it will be when you beg me for what you need."

Each thrust seemed to become successively harder, and push deeper inside him; after the first few minutes, the Master pulled all the way out before forcefully entering the Doctor again, the pleasure mutating into pain each time he was penetrated. By the fourth entrance, the Doctor was crying silently, tears streaming down his cheeks and soaking the pillow.

It had to end soon, didn't it? The Master would eventually either tire of torturing him, or he would come; either way, this couldn't last much longer. His body felt raw, opened, exposed; the pain was coming in waves now, threatening to swamp him in a blackness that danced temptingly before his eyes. If only he could pass out ....

As if on cue, the man thrusting into him growled, his hips pistoning deep into the Doctor one last time. The Time Lord whimpered as the Master's seed poured into him, hot, stinging. He could feel the Master's body press down against his before the thick cock slid out of his ass, leaving him feeling shaken and violated.

The Master swung himself off the bed, moving away for a few moments; the Doctor had no idea what he was doing, but at least he apparently wasn't standing there staring at him in mute satisfaction. That was one of the greatest humiliations of his captivity -- knowing that the Master was surveying him in this helpless state, and knowing that the other Time Lord could choose to have him at any time, in any way he wanted.

The Doctor kept his eyes closed, hoping that the Master was done with him. But no -- he could hear the other man moving towards the bed again, and he tensed expectantly, waiting for words, or a touch. He gasped aloud when something large and thick pressed against his sore ass before sliding into him, impaling him, pushing deep before it finally stopped. He had to force himself to take a deep breath, forcing back a pained moan.

That voice was at his ear again, almost purring, laughter in the words. "I want to make sure you're opened and ready when I come back, Doctor. I'm not even close to being finished with you. And when I'm done -- then the Tardis gets to have her turn. You're going to be whoring your arse to us for quite a while, my dear."

He patted the Doctor's ass before he bent to pick up his trousers, pushing the object deeper and laughing under his breath at the Doctor's soft whimper. When he reached the door, he turned to survey the man lying on the bed, his lips curving in a satisfied smile.

"I'll be back in good time, Doctor. Do try to make yourself comfortable. You'll probably find this much easier to take than what I have planned for you later -- though I'm quite interested to see just how you'll react to that."

The Doctor buried his face in the pillow, squeezing his eyes closed and trying to make his muscles relax. It was impossible; each time he shifted to try to find a more comfortable position, his ass muscles clenched around the intrusion, almost seeming to push it deeper. He had no choice but to wait until the Master returned to free him from this torture.

His rigid cock throbbed, his entire body thrumming with the need to come. Did the Master intend to keep him like this for an indeterminate amount of time? Was this waiting part of his plan, the way that he would inevitably force the Doctor to admit that he somehow needed this ingenious form of pleasure?

The Time Lord's fists clenched in their bonds, his mouth thinning into a firm line. Whatever the Master did, he wouldn't break this time. He wasn't going to give in; no, he would hold firm, keep his inner barriers up, not let the Master break through. He'd done that too often before. This time, he would be stronger, more sure of himself. He wasn't going to let the Master win, not if there was any way to prevent it.

His teeth sank into his lower lip again, trying to keep his mouth from trembling. He hadn't been able to hold out before. What made him think that he could do so this time? It was only a matter of time before he broke down. The Master knew him too well. The Master did, after all, have the upper hand in this game.

It was only a matter of time until he would throw down the winning hand and declare himself the victor in their battle -- and the Doctor would be forced to acknowledge that victory. He'd hold out for as long as he could, but something within the Doctor told him that he couldn't win this fight. Not without help, help that obviously wasn't forthcoming from any direction.

Still, he couldn't give in. He couldn't let the Master win without a fight -- no matter at what cost to himself. If there was any conceivable way that he could get the upper hand, then he would. He had to hold on, keep himself from breaking into pieces -- and more importantly, keep himself from responding to the insidious siren call of what the Master offered him, the chance to sink into the kind of subservient oblivion that the other man demanded of him.

The Doctor let out a shaky sigh, pressing his face into the pillow and praying silently that he would at least survive this battle with his body -- and his sanity -- intact. Something told him that at this point, it was the best he could hope for.