Title: Say It
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/The Master
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: NC-17
Table: 50_darkfics
Prompt: 57, Please
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.

***

"You'll say it."

"No."

"Oh yes, you will, Doctor. You may think that you won't break, but you will. You can't hold out against me forever. You've never been able to. I'll break you -- and I'll take great pleasure in doing it. More than you can possibly imagine."

The Doctor glared at the Master, channeling all his hatred of the other Time Lord into that one glance. Maybe it wouldn't help him to be this angry, but at least it was an outlet for his feelings.

And also for his fear. No matter how many times he told himself that he wasn't going to let the Master break him, he was terrified that it would happen. This man knew him almost as well as he knew himself, in some ways. And he wouldn't hesitate to use what he knew to his advantage.

What if the Master could force him to say the word he was determined to keep back?

What then? Could he consider himself broken, good for nothing else but being the Master's slave for the rest of his life? He shuddered at the thought, wishing that he could push it away and bury it deep in the back of his mind.

But he couldn't. That thought, now that it had grown to unheard-of proportions in his mind, wasn't going to just disappear. It was going to stay with him, worrying at his mind like a cat worries a mouse, batting it around until the final denouement.

The Master cast a glance at him, slightly disapproving, slightly amused. He shook his head, coming closer to the Doctor and raising a hand to tug at the ropes that bound the Time Lord's wrists above his head.

"If you weren't bound, Doctor, I'd almost be afraid of you after that look you just gave me. If looks could kill .... But they can't, can they? Too bad for you."

No, an angry look wouldn't do much good, the Doctor thought, twisting his wrists in an attempt to loosen the ropes. But words wouldn't do any good either; he'd already long since learned that he couldn't say anything that the Master would take heed of.

The other man walked a few steps away, then turned to survey the Doctor, letting his eyes roam over his captive's nude body, a small smile curving his lips. His eyes gleamed in the dim light; whether with malice or appreciation, the Doctor couldn't tell.

This would be so much easier on him if he'd at least been allowed some modesty, the Doctor thought, trying to ignore the fact that he was being assessed like a piece of meat. The look in the Master's eyes made him uneasy; he was sure that it boded ill for him.

As though to prove the Doctor's thoughts right, the Master took a few steps back towards him, grasping the Time Lord's chin in his hand and forcing their eyes to meet. The Doctor had to struggle not to drop his gaze first.

"Why don't you just say it now, Doctor?" The Master's voice was smooth, urbane, almost pleasant. "It would save you a great deal of discomfort if you did."

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" the Doctor burst out, unable to hold his words back any longer. "You'd love to see me grovel and admit that I have to ask you for anything, even mercy. You'll have to wait for all eternity for that to happen."

"Oh, really?" The Master raised one eyebrow, releasing the Doctor's chin and moving his hand slowly down the other man's body. The Doctor shuddered as that hand moved down his throat, over his shoulder, down to his chest ....

"I don't think I'll have to wait very long to hear those words at all, Doctor," the Master told him, his voice still sounding conversational. "In fact, I think you'll be saying what I want to hear in a matter of seconds. It's only one word, after all. It can't be hard to get it out of you."

The Doctor swallowed hard, unable to keep himself from focusing on the downward trek of the other man's hand. The Master circled his nipples with his index finger, his hand moving down again to circle his navel, stroking across the sensitive skin of his stomach.

He didn't want to speak; he regretted the words he'd said only moments before. He was playing right into the Master's hands when he did that; the best thing to do was to be silent, not to give this monster what he wanted.

If only he could manage to loosen the ropes, to somehow free his hands and take the Master by surprise .... But no, that wasn't going to happen. The best that he could hope for was to endure whatever the other man had in mind, and hope that he would be the victor.

He was rapidly losing hope of that happening; his breath came faster as the Master's hand moved again, culminating in a surprised gasp as the other Time Lord's fingers curled around his cock.

"You see, Doctor?" The Master was smiling now, looking into the Doctor's eyes. "It's so easy for me to get what I want from you."

"You haven't gotten it yet," the Doctor ground out, trying his utmost to keep his voice calm and even. He wasn't going to betray how his senses were tingling, his hearts pounding, his body aching for more of what the Master was doing as his hand began to move.

But he couldn't stop himself; within seconds, he was pushing his hips forward with each stroke of the Master's hand, almost gasping with every movement. He couldn't stop himself from whimpering when the other man stopped moving his hand, drawing a laugh from the Master.

"Ah, Doctor, you're so predictable," he said, cupping the Time Lord's cheek in his free hand. "All I have to do is touch you where I know you're most vulnerable -- and you're putty in my hands. Now, say what I want to hear .... and you might get what you want."

The Doctor shook his head, stubbornly refusing to do what the other man wanted. It was the last thing that he could hang on to -- that last vestige of pride that was already hanging in tatters around him. But he wouldn't give in. Not until he absolutely had to.

The Master didn't move his hand again; he simply stood there, watching the Doctor, waiting calmly for what he wanted to hear.

The Doctor gritted his teeth, determined not to say anything. But his traitorous body had other ideas, his hips bucked forward, and a soft moan came from his throat. The sound was involuntary; he was almost shocked to hear it.

"That's right, Doctor." The Master's voice was a sibilant whisper in his ear; he didn't think he'd ever heard the other man sound so pleased, not even when he'd had the Doctor in worse situations than this one. "Beg. Say it, Doctor. Say it."

He had to say what the Master wanted to hear. He had to. He had no choice. If he wanted to get any kind of relief, he'd have to strip himself of his pride, let this maniac know that he'd won -- even if it would only be a temporary victory.

At least, he hoped that was all it would be.

"Please," he whispered, the single word hanging in the air. It almost sounded as though he was pleading, and the Doctor hated himself for that.

"Say it again," the Master demanded, his smile widening. "Say it, Doctor. Louder this time."

"Please." This time, there was more than just a slight pleading tone in his voice; he was obviously begging, his hips rocking forward again, needing that friction in any way he could get it, even though he despised himself for that need.

"Very good, Doctor." The Master grinned at him, then shook his head in mock sorrow. "But, I'm afraid it took you just a bit too long to decide to do as you're told. And for that, you have to suffer. So sorry, but you have only yourself to blame."

And with that, the hand between his legs was gone, the Master stepping away from him, then turning his back and walking out of the room as though the Doctor was of no interest to him.

The Doctor let out another moan, this time one of utter frustration. That was just like the Master, to humiliate him, make him do something that he'd been dead set against -- and then leave him like this, with no way of assuaging his need.

He slumped against the ropes that bound him, closing his eyes against the tears of anger that threatened to well up behind his eyes. The Master was right. He had only himself to blame. He hadn't kept to his resolution; he hadn't held out.

It would be a long time before he'd be able to face himself again -- and an even longer time before he'd be able to face the Master with his pride intact.

He could do nothing now but wait for his next chance to get out of here, to somehow turn the tables on the other Time Lord and escape. All he could do was hope for that chance, and seize it when it came, though he had no idea if it would or not.

"Please," he whispered again, unsure of just who he was directing the word at.

***