Title: Descent
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Ianto Jones/Tenth Doctor
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Rating: NC-17
Table: 5
Prompt: 4, Aroused
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own Ianto Jones or the Tenth Doctor. Please do not sue.

***

"Stop it," Ianto growled, looking up from where he knelt on the floor. He knew that his words more than likely wouldn't make a dent, but he had to try. "Let him go."

The Master smiled down at Ianto, reaching out a hand to ruffle the young man's hair. "Let him go? But the fun is just beginning, my dear boy. And all the more amusing because you get to watch him."

Ianto growled deep in his throat again, feeling more helpless and frustrated than he'd ever felt in his life. And if he felt that way, he could only imagine how the Doctor must feel, bound and gagged at the Master's mercy. How many times had he been in that position before?

The Doctor had always managed to get himself out of these situations, Ianto told himself, casting about in his mind for some avenue of escape, some way that he could free himself and the Doctor and get them out of this hell that the Time Lord's worst enemy had created.

There was none.

No one knew where they were. Jack might have a clue, but even he wouldn't be able to locate them until the Master had been able to have his fun -- and there was no telling what kind of physical shape the Doctor would be in when that monster was done with him.

At least he knew that the Doctor couldn't be forced to regenerate. His lover had assured him of that when Ianto had expressed concern about the future, placing those long, tapering fingers over his lips and telling him not to worry.

How could he not worry? He'd known something like this was going to happen, something that would threaten the fabric of their existence together, topple the house of cards they'd built so carefully.

His eyes moved to his love, meeting the Doctor's gaze. At least he was still fully clothed; he'd been allowed to retain that much of his dignity. But the Master showed no such consideration towards the Doctor. The Time Lord had been stripped to his skin, gagged, and laid on a cold metal table, his body stretched taut between the restraints at each corner.

The Doctor's eyes were dark with fear; but Ianto knew that it wasn't fear for himself. If the Time Lord hadn't tried to get Ianto to leave, using precious moments that he should have spent avoiding the Master, he wouldn't have been caught in this trap. The Doctor was terrified for him.

He shouldn't have come along, Ianto thought guiltily, but it was too late to reflect on what he should and shouldn't have done. He'd done it, and these were the consequences.

His heart thudded in sudden terror as the Master picked up a long syringe, studying it with an absorbed expression. From his glance towards the Doctor, there was no doubt in Ianto's mind of who the wicked-looking needle was meant for -- and he had no idea of what was in it.

"Don't. Please don't," he whispered, trying in vain to move his wrists from their uncomfortable position cuffed behind his back.

The sharp point of the needle glinted in the glare of the fluorescent lights as the Master turned towards him, raising an eyebrow quizzically. A slow smile spread over his face, the gloating look making Ianto's skin crawl.

"This isn't for you, Mr. Jones," he said, his voice assuming a soothing tone. "I believe you know who the injection is meant for."

Ianto shook his head frantically, tugging at his bonds. If only he could free himself somehow, manage to grab that syringe and plunge it into the Master's body instead .... He couldn't just kneel here and watch this sadist torture the man he loved without trying to do something.

"What are you going to do to him?" Ianto cursed himself for the shakiness of his voice, the fear that was evident with each word that he forced from his suddenly dry throat.

"It's a lovely little concoction that I picked up on a distant planet," the Master told him, stepping to the table where the Doctor was bound and reaching out to tweak one pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger, smiling at the Doctor's low moan. "He's already rather deliciously wanton when he's in the proper mood. This will only make him more so."

"Wh-what?" Ianto couldn't keep his voice from trembling, not wanting to hear more but unable to stop himself from asking. "Will it hurt him?"

"No, not at all," the Master replied, flashing a smile at the young man. "I'm quite sure of that. Though not at all sure whether or not his heightened need for sex with this amount of the drug in him could drive him to insanity."

The Doctor moaned again, this time sounding almost panicked, his dark eyes focused on the point of the evil-looking needle. The Master ran his hand along one slender arm, obviously searching for a vein, and the Doctor shook his head wildly, the gag muffling his soft cry.

"No," Ianto whispered, the portent behind the Master's words sinking into his mind. "Please, no. Don't do this to him."

The Master turned to look at him again, a smile breaking over his features as though the situation were some sort of joke to him. "No, Mr. Jones. You are the one who'll be doing things to him. That is, if you want him to live."

With those words, he turned again to the Doctor, expertly sliding the needle into his arm and depressing the plunger.

Ianto choked back a cry, squeezing his eyes closed. Whatever the Master had planned, he was a part of it. If this depraved beast somehow forced him to hurt the Doctor, he'd never be able to forgive himself.

And he had no idea if the Doctor would ever be able to forgive him.

The Doctor shuddered, his body trembling from head to toe, a light sheen of sweat breaking out over his skin. Ianto wanted to move forward, to close the slight distance between himself and his love, but he forced himself to stay still. There was no telling what the Master might do to the Time Lord if he so much as dared to take a deep breath.

"He should be feeling the effects at any moment," the Master whispered, his eyes riveted to the Time Lord.

"What have you done to him?" Ianto's voice was slightly more steady now, but the words still had that shaky edge to them. He had to speak carefully to keep those words from sounding as panicked as he felt.

"Nothing much." The Master said nonchalantly. "I've only enhanced his sex drive a few thousand times over."

"You .... what?" Ianto couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "Bloody hell, why?"

"Think of it, Mr. Jones." The Master was watching the Doctor, smiling as the Time Lord's trembling became more pronounced, his slender body writhing against his bonds. "Our lovely little pet here is multi-orgasmic. Think of the possibilities."

Ianto was bewildered; his confusion must have shown on his face. The Master pressed two fingers under his chin, lifting Ianto's face to his as he explained.

"It's quite simple, really. The formula I've injected him with makes him crave sex. The more he gets, the more he wants. And with his already multi-orgasmic capabilities .... it should be a delightful little show to watch. And that, my dear Mr. Jones, is where you come in."

Ianto's eyes widened with sudden comprehension. This monster wanted him to participate in this insidious form of torture. No. Absolutely not. There was no way he was going to add to any pain the Doctor might feel.

He shook his head, closing his eyes. "No. I won't violate him. I won't do anything to hurt him. You can't make me."

The Master's brows rose, an expression of amusement crossing his face. "Oh, can't I? I can make you do anything I demand of you, Mr. Jones. After all, you seem to forget that I hold the Doctor's life in my hands."

Ianto was seized by a fit of trembling. The Master was right. There was nothing to stop him from injecting the Doctor again -- and driving the Time Lord from pain into an insanity that he might never find his way back from.

His body sagged, his eyes unable to meet the Master's. There was nothing for him to do but to give in, and pray that somehow he and the Doctor could survive this with their relationship -- as well as their minds and bodies -- intact.

He didn't raise his gaze until the Master moved to the table where the Doctor lay bound and helpless, not wanting to watch but unable to keep himself from taking in what this monster was doing to his love.

The Master had tilted the table so that the Doctor was almost upright, his wrists still restrained at the upper corners. But now, his legs had been bent, still spread, knees pushed towards his chest, exposing the lower half of his body even more.

And, Ianto realized with a sinking heart, giving him easy accessibility.

The Master's hands were on his shoulders, dragging him to his feet and pushing him towards the table. Ianto wanted to scream, to struggle against the Master; but he was all too aware of what could happen to his love if he didn't comply.

The Doctor was moaning behind his gag, his body writhing with arousal, his eyes open but not really seeing. Ianto couldn't stand to see him like this; he wanted to push this away from them both, to awaken safe in their bed in Cardiff, reducing all this to a bad dream.

But he couldn't. This was real, this was happening. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it.

"Your part in this is just beginning, Mr. Jones," the Master told him. "You can at least take comfort in that I'm letting you be the one to do this to him. It could so easily have been me -- and I wouldn't have been nearly as gentle as you will undoubtedly be with him."

Ianto closed his eyes as the Master pushed him towards his lover. He was trying his best to keep back the tears, praying that the Doctor would be able to forgive him for what he'd had to do when this was all over.

He doubted that he would ever have the capability to forgive himself.

***