Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

Sharing	By : Lleucucan Category: 1 through F > Doctor Who Views: 2062 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who and have received no money, icecream or any form of valuable consideration from this fic. Would have a much more expensive lifestyle possibly involving paid on-demand fanfic writers if I did.

Chapter List
- 1-Sharing
- 1
The Doctor blinked and stirred, reaching around to the back of his head almost before he had his eyes open, finding the stickiness there, almost dried blood matting the hair to stiff strands. He'd been out a while then.
His head still throbbed though and a distant queasiness warned of borderline concussion. His mouth was dry and he swallowed several times, trying to work some saliva back to it.
"Awake at last?"
The Doctor jumped at the voice from behind him, still too bleary to have taken in the fact that there was someone else present. Apprehension joined the pain in making his stomach roil, the voice was familiar though in his addled state he couldn't place it. Didn't need to place it to deduce that whoever had coshed him was unlikely to mean him well.
He swallowed again, worked his dry lips for a moment then managed, "Just about..."
He started to his feet, turning as he rose. Too fast as it turned out and he reeled, falling back to his hands and knees.
"Carefully, Doctor. I really don't feel like waiting for you to wake up again if you knock out what few wits remain to you."
The voice was amused and damnably familiar, and the Doctor forced himself to his knees and raised his ringing head to look.
He would have put it down to the bash on the head -- would very much have liked to -- but it was all too painfully real for him to fall back on that escape and he stared instead.
"Master," he managed numbly. Except, it couldn't be, except he was dead on Sarn, had died, screaming and cursing and threatening to the last.
And now he was here, looking down at him, an expression of amused interest on his face as he watched the Doctor's expression cycle through disbelief, realisation and fear.
"I thought you were dead," the Doctor said, aware even as he said it that it was not the cleverest remark ever to leave his lips, but it was too obvious not to be said and, well, it was true.
"You hoped I was dead," the Master corrected, sounding considerably calmer about it than he had at the time. And why wouldn't he, the Doctor realised woozily, he certainly had the upper hand and very little reason to worry at the moment.
He realised belatedly that the Master was waiting for a response, but he'd already all but forgotten the question. If there'd been one.
"You're alive," he said instead. Had he already said that? It was impossible to concentrate around the dizzy, aching nausea.
A smile curled the Master's lips.
"More than that."
The Doctor blinked. Was he so dazed as to hallucinate, or so rattled that his mental shields had slipped? He had clearly heard a second voice, yet the Master's face was motionless before him.
"Much more than that."
The Doctor turned again, seeking the source of the second new voice.
"What..." He tried again to stand but this time was forced back to his knees not by giddiness but by the intervention of two strong sets of hands, presumably belonging to the owners of the voices -- but hadn't there just been the one speaker? The Doctor fought dizziness and confusion to look up at his two new captors.
Who weren't two. Who were one. One and the same. As each other. And as the same as the man standing smiling in front of him. Young features, dark and fair and laughing and wide eyed and wrong.
The Doctor reeled, turned back to the Master -- the one he knew, the one who hadn't, after all, burned on Sarn.
"What have you done?"
A smile.
"Moral outrage, Doctor? How many times have you broken this rule?"
Indignation drove some of the fuzziness from the Doctor's mind and he embraced it. "Not like this. Not for... What is this for? Entertainment? Revenge?"
He spat both terms with equal contempt. It had little effect. The Master still only smiled contentedly at him. A cat with the canary well and truly under its paw.
"I warned you, Doctor. I did warn you." His face turned furious in a split second. "You left me to burn!"
The Doctor held his gaze, refused to look away because it was true after all and not even the worst thing he'd done in the interests of what he'd decided was necessary.
He tipped his chin defiantly. "We'll take that as 'revenge' then shall we? And what precise supporting role are your two future selves to take in the proceedings?"
One of the future selves under discussion curled his fingers in the Doctor's hair, nails seeking through the bloodied tangle, making the Doctor tense in anticipation of pain but stopping short of touching the actual injury.
He spoke lightly, almost playfully, "I'm sure we'll find ourselves something to do."
The other, more familiar Master continued. "I told you before I had given thought to how I would make you regret the... inconvenience you've put me to." Again the tone changed from serene calm to vicious intent. "I will see that insufferable pride of yours shattered. I will see you beg."
The Doctor rolled his eyes, deliberately infuriating. "Sure you don't want to nip back to the 12th Century again? Racks and irons are probably more in the line you're looking for than a little paradoxical crossing of timestreams aren't they?"
The provocation didn't have the effect he'd hoped. Instead there was a chuckle from the startlingly blond Master. "Tempting as it is..."
"Tempting as it is," the Master picked up from his future self. "I have something a bit more... personal in mind."
He moved towards the Doctor and reached out. Instinctively the Doctor reared back but was held firm by the other two at either side. The Master smiled again and to the Doctor's confusion grabbed only the lapels of his coat and dragged it back and down his arms. There was a brief confused struggle, at the end of which his coat was on the floor.
"Now the rest."
Anger and alarm bubbled up in equal measure and the Doctor twisted sharply away from his captors. But they were three and he was one, and a still distinctly wobbly one at that and it was only minutes before he was back on his knees, stripped and shivering half with nervous reaction and half with the shock of chill air on suddenly bare flesh.
The Master stepped back, still smiling and paced around him once. The Doctor kept his eyes resolutely forward, refusing to give him the satisfaction of displaying his anxiety, even as every warning instinct in his body urged him not to take his eyes off the threat.
That this refusal to look round had its disadvantages became all too clear, when a smooth hand quickly slid itself down his back and around his waist, making him bound forward in shock and nearly get his arms twisted out of their sockets in response.
Biting back a cry he sat back on his heels, shuddering as the hand, too cool to belong to the stolen Trakenite body, a hand of one of the Timelords the Master would one day be again, insinuated itself lower, between his legs. The Master - one of them -- stroked the thin skin high on the inside of his thigh, the rougher skin on the back of his hand brushing against the skin of somewhere more sensitive still.
The Master had finished his circuit of the Doctor's position and was watching him again. Impassively, eyebrows slightly raised, as though inviting a question.
The Doctor caught his breath, got his voice more or less under control.
"If anything, sexual molestation is probably slightly less original than torture, you realise?"
He expected the flippancy to anger the Master, perhaps he even hoped it. Would have welcomed a furious blow to take the place of this alternative.
The Master though only continued to smile that increasingly maddening smile.
“Nothing new under the sky, Doctor. I always did disagree with you there.”
The Doctor tugged half-heartedly against the grip on his arms.
“Stop this,” he said, without much real hope. “Please. What do you want from me? You want me to wring my hands and say how much I regret stopping you from killing everyone on that planet to save your skin from your own powercrazed meddling?”
“I don't want you to say anything, Doctor. I want you for once, to keep quiet. I realise this might be rather a lot to expect so I'm going to give you something else to occupy that mouth of yours.”
His hand moved to the fastening of his trousers as he advanced and fingers twined in the Doctor's hair again, forcing his face upwards.
The Doctor shook his head violently, panic making it easy to ignore the pain.
"Oh no, I will not go along with this. You try that and the regret's going to be all on your side, I assure you!"
"Be sensible, Doctor." The Master appeared unconcerned. "I'm sure you wouldn't be foolish enough to think of biting. I'm afraid if I suspected you were then I might be forced to hurt you rather badly before we even begin. I doubt you'd do much damage with a broken jaw for example."
The Doctor froze, watching him warily, assessing the threat, that was delivered so calmly.
"Best if we agree not to hurt one another more than entirely necessary, don't you think?" the Master asked after a moment.
The Doctor hesitated, mind frantically casting about for a way out and finding nothing. Finally he closed his eyes, helpless.
"Ah ah, none of that either," the Master's hand was at his chin, lifting it. "I want you to properly appreciate your situation here. I want to see the look in your eyes as I take full enjoyment from that situation."
The Doctor opened his eyes, glared at the Master.
"Better. Now, you asked what part my other selves were going to play in our little drama and I omitted to answer. It's really quite simple though -- we're going to share."
The younger-looking, dark haired Master leaned closer from behind the Doctor.
"We've really rather missed this you."
"Well, there'll be plenty of opportunity to get reacquainted," the older-younger should-be-dead Master purred, sliding the fastening of his trousers open and revealing himself fully to the Doctor.
He was hard already, his fingers sliding over himself, stroking himself fuller still and the Doctor recoiled without ever planning it, shaking his head, unable, in spite of the Master's threats, to stop himself struggling.
He was held though, the Master's hands on his chin and cheeks and in his hair and without realising it his eyes were closed again and there was something hot and wet and blunt pressing against his mouth and he couldn't do this, he couldn't, but there was pressure sharp and sudden at the point of his jaw and he gasped and in that moment the Master was inside him, hot and thick and full. His tongue was pressed down and he struggled involuntarily to free it, to push the intrusion away but the contact only made the Master grunt with pleasure and the Doctor quailed at the sound.
The Master thrust against his face, driving the length of himself clear to the Doctor's throat. He gagged, choked and mouthed frantically in panic, trying to form words of protest but all his vocalisations only adding to the Master's enjoyment.
"Look at me, Doctor," he commanded, the order reinforced by another tug on the Doctor's hair.
He didn't want to. Wanted nothing more than to retreat into his own mind from this assault. He didn't dare not to. Didn't want to do anything that would prolong it. He opened his eyes. Not that he could see much, face pressed against the Master's body, he rolled his eyes as the Master shifted, saw that hateful smile still plastered across his face, thoroughly enjoying the Doctor's reactions.
He gagged again as the Master pulled him closer, shifted to drive himself even deeper. The Doctor felt himself growing lighthearted, short of breath. Respiratory bypass was all very effective but it still felt like smothering.
A touch on his own balls made him yelp in shock, the sound resonating through his throat and making the Master chuckle with pleasure. The touch continued, smoothing something slick and cold around his balls, up and down his shaft, then back, between the cheeks of his buttocks, sliding back and forth and lingering, pressing against him.
He struggled, but his arms were held too firmly, and he could get no leverage, no purchase as a finger pressed and probed and finally slid slickly inside him. He didn't squeal this time, not now he knew how much the Master was enjoying the feel of his stifled protests. He struggled though. Writhed uselessly as another finger and another were slid in, ignoring the pain in his shoulders and wrists as he was restrained, the tugs on his hair to keep his mouth where the Master wanted it.
Fingers curled and shifted inside him, stretching, burning in spite of their coolness while another hand worked him from the front, the combined sensation making it almost impossible to think at all.
Impossible to concentrate, and, he realised abruptly was probably the point, impossible to maintain the careful telepathic shields that would keep out unwelcome mental contact even with such close physical touch.
The Master slipped his thoughts into the Doctor's mind, again and again, three minds, working their way into his awareness as slowly and inescapably as the bodies that went with them worked at his flesh.
He felt a wave of satisfaction not his own, heard his own distressed moans as though they were the most intoxicating music, felt the unwelcome hands on his body lap sensation on sensation through his nerves, until he he barely knew who he was or why he was resisting.
"You want me all the way in you... " a thought insinuated itself, the promise and pain of it making him press frantically back against the probing fingers now stilled inside him.
He couldn't remember if it had been a question. It was a fact now, and he would have babbled agreement if he'd been able to speak. He moaned instead, and felt the vibration through his own nerves even as he heard the Master's lustful chuckle.
"Ask nicely."
Panic then briefly, a flash of awareness, of realisation, but then it was gone, and the only fear was that he couldn't speak, he couldn't ask. He grabbed out with his mind instead, pleading, frantic with desires not his own but better and darker and more urgent.
A moment's emptiness as the fingers were withdrawn and then he was filled completely and it hurt and it didn't and he was lost and abruptly the telepathic contact was cut and the Doctor screamed as though he'd been doused with cold water as full awareness snapped back, and he choked and struggled to free himself from the twin grip of the Master.
In answer a rope was twined around his wrists. He couldn't see which of them was doing so, which of them was still thrusting inside him, but he soon lost interest in working it out as the rope with wound further up his arms, drawing his arms together, far too tight until his elbows were all but touching.
He didn't bother to stifle the pained cry this time and it was enough to tip the Master over the edge. He withdrew as he came, splashing the Doctor's face stickily and completing the humiliation. The other lasted a few strokes longer before he too reached his climax and withdrew, pushing the Doctor forward and away as he did so.
He collapsed gasping, unable to break his fall with his arms bound unnaturally behind him.
He lay without struggling for several seconds, trying to regain his breath, not daring to hope it was over and fearful of saying or doing anything that would draw the Master's further attention.
The blond one wandered into his line of sight, grinning ferally and wiping himself off with an expensive-looking handkerchief which he flicked in the Doctor's direction when he was finished.
“Yes,” he commented. “We've missed this one.”
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Sharing