Title: Still Here
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/The Master
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: NC-17
Table: 50_darkfics
Prompt: 84, Hate
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 Master leaned against the stone wall of the prison building, looking down at the naked man kneeling on the floor in front of him. The Doctor's wrists were bound behind his back, a ball gag in his mouth; his head was bowed, his gaze riveted to the floor.

He wasn't going to look up; the Master knew that. The Doctor could be stubborn about these things, even when he knew that he wasn't in a position to be defiant. Well, he would just have to be shown that he was the subservient one here.

He reached out to grab a handful of the Doctor's hair, wrenching the Time Lord's head up and forcing the Doctor to look at him. He loved the feel of those silken strands between his fingers, just as much as he loved hearing the Doctor's gasp of pain.

"That's right, Doctor," he purred, gazing at the Time Lord with satisfaction in his eyes. "Look at me. I want you to know just who's in control here. Not you. Never. I've always been the one with the power, Doctor, whether you've wanted to admit or not."

Nothing showed in those dark eyes; not fear, and definitely not the subservience that the Master wanted to see. With a growl, he released the Doctor's hair, and the other man's gaze immediately returned to the floor, as though he didn't want to look at the man standing over him.

"I've always had control over you, Doctor," the Master told him, glaring angrily at the other man's bowed head. "Do you remember the first time I proved that? You might not have wanted to admit it then any more than you do now, but you knew that you were made to obey me."

Still no answer. But then, he hadn't expected one, had he? The Doctor was gagged; he obviously couldn't speak. That was the way he liked to see the other Time Lord, most of the time -- but he had plans for that lovely mouth that he intended to put into action soon.

He concentrated on the thread of control that he'd established between himself and the Doctor; that bit of command that he'd been able to take over the Doctor's mind when he'd overpowered the other man. It was easy to push it to its limits, though he couldn't exert as much control as he wanted.

"How many times did it happen, Doctor?" he continued, his voice silky, forcing the memories into the other man's mind. "Hundreds? Thousands? You thought you could escape me by coming out into the stars in your Tardis, didn't you? But you couldn't."

He regarded the Doctor spitefully, his eyes narrowing. "You wanted to run away from me. Me, the man who was meant to be your Master, the man who'd claimed you. But I'm still here, Doctor. And you're still my slave, no matter what you may think."

Reaching down, he took the Doctor's chin in his hand, raising the other man's face to his again. He smiled in satisfaction when their eyes met; he could see conflicting emotions in the dark depths of the Doctor's eyes, a confusion that he could manipulate.

"You might struggle against the inevitable, but you want what I can give you, Doctor," he whispered, his voice sinking to a low, husky tone. "Harkness couldn't give it to you. No one can. You need to be dominated. You need me to be your Master."

He could read the denial on the Doctor's face, but the other man's eyes told a different story. Ah, yes, the Doctor wanted this, even needed it, even though his stubborn mind refused to give in to that fact. But he had ways of forcing a capitulation.

His fingers moved to the buckle at the back of the gag, starting to loosen it with one hand even as his other hand moved to the button and zip on his trousers. He smiled again as the Doctor's eyes widened; the other man knew what was coming next.

Was it his imagination, or had he seen a defiant flash of hatred behind those dark eyes before the Doctor had managed to mask it? Was he the one who was being played? For just a moment, the Master's composure was shaken by doubts.

But only for a moment. He pushed his trousers down his legs, stepping out of them and moving closer to the Doctor. His fingers continued to work at the buckle on the gag until it was loosened completely and he could pull the gag from the Doctor's mouth and toss it aside.

"You know what you have to do, Doctor," he murmured, his lips curving into a wolfish smile as he gazed down at the other man. "I know you don't want to, but you have no choice. And if I recall correctly, you've certainly liked it well enough in the past once you got started."

There was that flash of hatred again, carefully covered within a second. But it had been there; the defiance that flared in the back of the Time Lord's eyes for just a moment was disconcerting, worrisome. Was he losing his control over the Doctor?

"You know that you'll be punished if you don't please me -- so don't think about doing anything stupid," he warned, pushing the Doctor's head closer to his erection. "Do it, Doctor. It's not as though you'll be able to avoid it. Not this time, nor any other."

He closed his eyes for a few brief seconds as he felt the warmth of the Doctor's mouth surround his cock; ah, yes, this was more like it. The Doctor had always had a talented tongue, but in this body, his abilities to work magic with his mouth were superlative.

He placed a hand on the Doctor's head, guiding the other man's mouth slightly, but letting the Doctor go at his own pace. His orgasm was already building, speeding to the surface; it never took him long to come when this man's mouth was on him.

"You've run across the universe so many times to escape the inevitable -- that you belong to me and always will," he breathed, looking down at the other man, taking in his hollowed cheeks and downcast eyes. "But you're still here, Doctor. That tells me a lot."

The Doctor couldn't answer, of course; that was the way he liked it, the Master thought, smiling as he watched the other man's mouth work at his cock. This was the way that the Doctor should always be -- subservient to him in every way.

But he wasn't subservient in every way, the Master told himself, remembering those flashes of hatred he'd seen in those dark eyes only moments before. That defiance would have to be subdued, vanquished, obliterated. It shouldn't be too hard.

He'd always been able to subdue the Doctor in the past. It had been easier when he was a younger man and had spent a good deal of his time on Gallifrey -- but he could circumvent that. After all, the Doctor belonged to him, whether the other man admitted it or not.

The Master's eyelids fluttered closed as his orgasm rushed through him; he could feel the warmth of the Doctor's mouth taking his length in one last time as he let himself go, forcing the other man to swallow, his throat muscles working convulsively.

The Master stepped back, pushing the Doctor away from him as he did so. His softening cock slipped out of the other man's mouth, the Doctor looking up at him with beseeching eyes, his lips red and swollen, his gaze betraying his physical frustration.

"That's quite enough for now, Doctor," the Master sneered, his gaze moving from the Time Lord's face to his crotch, a smile curving his lips at the sight of the other man's obvious need. "This is about my satisfaction, not yours."

He didn't replace the gag; there was no need to. The Doctor couldn't call out for help, after all -- there was no one else here, no one to hear his cries, no one to come to his rescue. The Doctor was where he belonged -- under his domination and control.

"If you're a good boy, I just might take care of that after a bit," he told the other man, indicating the Doctor's erection. "But I wouldn't count on it," he added, heading for the door. "You've managed to please me once, but I'll have to see if that continues before I make any promises."

The Doctor wasn't looking at him; the other man's gaze was once again fixed on the floor. But the Master could tell that he was trembling, both inwardly and outwardly -- he couldn't keep his emotional reaction from bleeding over into the physical plane.

"Think about this, Doctor," the Master told him, turning once more before he left the room. "You profess to hate me and to hate what I do to you -- yet you're still here. And we both know that it's not just for the sake of saving a planet. There's much more to your surrender than you'll admit."

With those words, he strode from the room without a backward glance. He would leave the Doctor alone there for a while, before he ordered the other man taken to his bedroom and tied to his bed. His control would be proven again tonight, in more intimate circumstances.

That flash of hatred, of defiance, that he'd seen in the Doctor's eyes still bothered him. With an irritated flick of his wrist, he pushed the idea aside, as much physically as mentally. He was still here, and so was the Doctor. He could exert control. He had to.

What did it matter if the Doctor hated him? This was about control, not love. It had never been about love, not even in the earliest days of their acquaintance when the Doctor still called them friends. It had always been about dominance. His dominance.

And he wasn't going to let go of that upper hand now, the Master vowed as he strode along the corridor that led to his sumptuous bathroom. As long as the Doctor was still here, he could be brought to heel and made to obey, no matter what that might take.

***