Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

Lapidary	By : Savaialian Category: 1 through F > Doctor Who Views: 1563 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Doctor Who fandom, nor to I make money from writing about it. I use their creations with due respect.

Chapter List
- 1-Lapidary
- 2-TWO
- 3-THREE
- 4-FOUR
- 5-FIVE
- 6-SIX
- 7-SEVEN
- 8-EIGHT
- 9-NINE
- 10-TEN
- 11-ELEVEN
- 12-TWELVE
- 13-THIRTEEN
- 14-FOURTEEN
- 15-FIFTEEN
- 16-SIXTEEN
- 17-SEVENTEEN
- 18-EIGHTEEN
- 19-NINETEEN
- 20-TWENTY
- 21-TWENTY-ONE
- 22-TWENTY-TWO
- 23-TWENTY-THREE
- 24-TWENTY-FOUR
- 25-EPILOGUE
- 17
- 18
- 19
It took all my willpower to not get in my TARDIS and track the Master down from Mount Gherza. For three whole days I threw myself into utter work, focusing on all the little projects the Master had played with only to come back to the palace and start drafting up a concrete, easily understood set of laws for the people. The Master’s hunting cats took to following me around instead of their true owner, and I got a little comfort from their company.
But, night was the worst. At night I lay in the big bed with the cats, feeling dismayed at how much I missed having the Master here with me. His presence, so magnetic and lively, made this room and this bed feel comfortable. I’d promised him I’d tie myself to it, because he wouldn’t be here to make sure I didn’t sleepwalk, and I complied with that.
By day four, I was a pacing, irritable wreck of nerves. I imagined all sorts of things had happened to him. I thought he might be lying somewhere in need of help. I told myself that I was worried over nothing, for the Master had survival to an art form. Around and around in circles my mind went. I hated that I’d said I wouldn’t go after him.
Day five, the Master’s estimated return made me anxious. I dressed carefully, thinking there might be some sort of political ugliness to not greeting my so-called mate in finery. The women of the house, aware I was a mess, helped me to look my best. I barely heard their chatter and their assurances.
Once at the temple, I took to pacing again. The elders murmured to each other about how pleased I’d be to see my lover while speculating if he’d even return. They pitied me, I understood.
Sunrise became noon, and noon became sunset. We waited without any of the lamps, candles or torches lit so that we might spy the emperor by the fire he should carry. And, we finally did. A cry lifted out over the solitary watchtower, and we gathered on the outer grounds, straining our eyes. There, in the distance, was a flickering blue and green flame.
The odd fire grew closer and closer. I spied the Master holding it in his hands. He was dirty, his face cut and abraided, his clothing torn, his lip split, but was walking well. His eyes sought mine first, and he smiled a little. That smile held triumph, the completion of his task, the pleasure of seeing me again, and a little bit of I’m-ready-to-quit-this-quest-now.
“Our Lord Emperor has brought the Holy Fire!” The lead elder, whose name was Hira, called out, and the waiting acolytes cheered.
The Master very carefully entered our midst. The flame in his hands ate nothing, and danced atop his cupped palms. Slowly, he entered the temple and took the flame to the altar of Fire, where he gently placed it. I saw a flash of silvery indigo, and the Needle-Light flew from him to perch upon the altar to Air. I somehow knew she wouldn’t follow the Master home, now.
As soon as he was clear of the altar, I thought to make a public confirmation of the relationship everyone thought I had with the emperor. I pushed through the group and took his hand.
The Master instantly stopped speaking to the elders, pulled me close, and kissed me fully on the lips. Insist upon my departure, he said, his mental voice desperate. I’m filthy, starving, and in need of my bed. He parted my lips forcibly, thrusting his tongue in my mouth with an expertise that made my knees weak. I felt his fingers twining in my hair, keeping me still for the incredible skill of his mouth. Hurry, Doctor.
I broke free, but took his hand again and pulled him from the temple. The old men, cheering and clapping, let us go without another protest. As soon as we were inside the cart I’d taken here, the Master slumped back and gave a heavy sigh. “The reason people don’t make it back isn’t due to the elements,” he informed. “I counted no fewer than fifty species of psychotropic fungi on that mountain, and five different kinds of plentiful, narcotic flowers. Once you get about a quarter of the way up, you start hallucinating.”
“Wow.” I eyed him closely. “Are you all right?”
“I have a pretty bad cut under my ribs,” he admitted. “I have it staunched with mericopsis moss; didn’t want to show up as the triumphant emperor with a big, humiliating bloodstain on my clothes.” He winced as we hit a bad bump and got jostled. “Even the water up there is mind altering,” he added. “I think it’s the stones it flows over. Damn, but it tasted good even while knowing I was about to trip my balls off for giving in to thirst.”
I couldn’t help a grin. “God,” I said. “Well, I ordered tea and food for you to be waiting.”
“Thank you, my dear,” he said. “I need both. I’ll eat in the bath.”
The Master made good on his word. He sat in his bath, eating and drinking and turning the water pink with his oozing cut. Matreus brought a tray of medicines and linens up and waited patiently while the Master got enough food to satisfy.
“I have some things in my pack for you, Matreus,” the Master said, polishing off his fifth cup of tea. “I brought back samples of the mushrooms and flowers.”
“My Lord Emperor, you are a delight,” Matreus said, taking a peek. “And you even separated the mushrooms in waxed paper bags to keep the spores from crossing.”
The Master smiled wearily and attacked a big, meat-dripping animal bone.
“I take it you’re familiar with the things?” I asked Matreus.
“Well, some of them appear to be in my oldest learning tablets,” Matreus replied, smiling in a way that I knew he was absolutely thrilled. “I can’t wait to cultivate them and do some experimenting.”
“Go to it, then,” I invited. “I’m a doctor, too, and your emperor is actually my species.”
“Thank you, My Lord Adjudicator,” Matreus said, casting his gaze to the Master for permission. The Master waved him away, and Matreus vanished with the mushrooms.
“I knew he’d like them,” the Master said. Wincing, he hauled himself from the water and sat on the tub rim so I could get started on his cut.
I stared at it, suddenly horrified. It was much deeper than he’d led me to believe, and not anything to put off taking care off. I got the alcohol and poised it over his wound. “On the count of three,” I said.
“Oh, just pour it,” the Master told me.
I slopped it inside his rent flesh and he stiffened, but didn’t make a sound.
“You need stitches,” I said. “I’ve never had to stitch a Gallifreyan.”
“If I’d been eating enough, drinking enough tea, I’d already have healed,” he replied. “Just sew me up, then; I can stand it, I assure you. Once you’ve endured being nothing more than a decaying scab, something like this is quite paltry.”
Now even more sobered, I selected a needle and a heavy gauge thread. “I know of only one other Time Lord to survive by force of will,” I murmured. “Omega.”
“Yes, you actually met him,” the Master mused, not flinching or reacting to me stabbing the needle through him over and over. “Brilliant?”
“Without a question.” I got halfway down and paused to align the curve of the wound in my mind. “You fell on something to get this. What, a rock?”
“Very sharp rock,” he confirmed. “That’s why there’s bruising, too.” He bolted another cup of tea.
“Another Sharpie scrawl on a Michelangelo,” I said sadly.
The Master gave a little chuckle. “Scars are manly,” he argued. “I’ve always secretly envied creatures that could get them. See what they mean by being careful what you wish for? Still, I’d planned to create a little scar in one of my eyebrows the next time I regenerated. Give me a rakish look, you know?”
I finished and held sterile padding over the closed wound. “Keep that on there while I wrap it,” I told him.
“Okay.” The Master watched me take out the roll of gauze and start applying it. “Why aren’t you starting above the wound and working down?”
“Because the thickest gauze will lie where it’s needed most this way, and be thinner where you have stress of movement,” I answered.
The Master let me work in silence a moment, but only a moment. “You actually are a physician, aren’t you? You weren’t to start with.”
“I have hobbies,” I confirmed. “Medicine is pretty interesting, especially when you constantly get chances to study it with aliens.”
As I wrapped him, I felt he was staring at me. Just before I finished I reached my limit, and gave him the eye contact he was silently asking for.
He was studying me.
The Master’s focus, never something to take lightly, was completely and utterly upon me. I had every bit of his attention. His dark, gorgeous eyes examined my face slowly. Something about me, or about my answer, had intrigued him. It was like being under a magnifying glass.
He was such an intelligent man. I hated what had been done to him. If only they’d left him alone. Still, he’d done impressive, if monstrous things even with such a severe, distracting handicap. If our people were still around, they’d never stop him if he decided he wanted revenge, and the Master always wanted revenge. Could wait for it indefinitely, actually.
“I don’t want revenge against you,” he told me softly. “You’re exempt.”
“I didn’t mean to be projecting,’ I said, helping him stand. If I knew him, he’d want to shave. His current identity liked being clean-shaven.
“You’ve been alone a few nights, so perhaps that’s it,” the Master replied. As expected, he took up a razor and began applying soap to his face. “Did the cats keep you company?” He lathered and started scraping hair from his jaw.
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t expect you to be able to keep your word,” he said.
“I almost didn’t more than a few times.”
“I’m not swanning off on you.”
“That wasn’t the worry,” I said.
He looked at me through the glass as he shaved, then, his gaze absolutely piercing. “You’ve never stopped feeling concern for me,” he murmured. “Not once.”
“Was I supposed to?” I cleaned up our mess and washed the blood away, aware he was still watching me.
“Any reasonable man would have given up on me centuries ago,” he said as he wiped his face.
“I never claimed to be reasonable.” I held out my arm to him. “You need to sleep.”
He did lean on me in going to his bed. Once he was tucked into the covers and I was following suit, I noticed we were cat free. Shrugging, I pulled up the sheets and blankets and got comfortable. After a moment’s consideration, I tied myself to the bed. The Master must have heard me, for he laughed very lightly and rolled over to look at me. “Is it helping?” He asked.
“It seems to be,” I admitted. “I really didn’t know I had this much of a problem with going walkabout in my sleep. It makes some of my surprise destinations in the TARDIS very suspect.”
“I’d say. Nothing like realizing you’ve been piloting the Vortex in your sleep.”
“Yeah.” As I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, I thought of the Master’s expertise with kissing, and the fact he’d so easily drawn me in. “You’re a great kisser,” I said.
“So you’ve said,” he replied, his voice warm and sleepy. “What is it? Do you want another one?”
I did, but I also didn’t want to admit it. Our relationship was complicated enough without kissing. Never mind that my toes curled when he applied his mouth to mine. I found that very novel. Few people had kissed me, and even fewer had managed to really get me stimulated. Madame de Pompadour, now, she was an expert.
We both fell asleep before the Master’s question and my answer could become a problem.
**
I awoke for a few reasons. Yes, the birds were out and the sky was lightening, but I also had a body straddling mine. I blinked with sleepy incomprehension, getting the Master’s face in focus. He was staring at me and smiling in a peculiar way. This was certainly a step up from being bullied out of bed, or hit with a pillow, but I felt mildly confused inside of sleep fog. “Wha-?”
“You don’t get morning breath,” he proclaimed. “I’ve had to get up and brush my teeth, but you’ve been breathing on me and it isn’t objectionable.”
I blinked a few more times. Really, lying flat on my back underneath the universe’s most dangerous creature ought to stir more concern than this, I thought dimly. Especially as it seemed I now had both wrists tied to the bed. I gave my legs a twitch and found they were still free. However, I was under the covers, and he wasn’t, which effectively served as a restraint, anyway.
“You really are an artful thing when you’re held captive,” the Master commented. “Quite blood-stirring.” He sat back on his haunches to take a long, leisurely look at me. “Maybe I’m just partial? After years of getting you restrained only sporadically, perhaps seeing you like this is particularly rewarding?”
I started feeling mildly worried. The Master’s self-reformation was admirable, but Rome wasn’t built in a day; I was there, so I knew. He’d come home after a long, hard bout of hallucinating, and he might not be finished, actually. Some psychoactive mushrooms and flowers caused a libido increase, too. He didn’t need any help with his libido.
The Master flexed and fell back over me gracefully. “Here’s the kiss you were too afraid to ask for,” he informed, his mouth hovering over mine. “I suggest you keep your thoughts to yourself about my prowess, because yes, my libido is off the scale, and you’re a very convenient outlet, my dear.”
His lips really were most persuasive. I melted. He could turn me into putty in seconds, and I liked it. Fear had its place, but he was incredible.
“Not even trying to get away,” he murmured upon pulling back the barest bit. “No protests, no thrashing, just lying there and accepting what I do.”
“You’re very good at kissing,” I protested weakly. “And, since we were never entangled romantically, and you hate rape, what do I have to worry about?”
The Master’s reluctant smile told me I’d said the right things. He freed my wrists and rolled off me for a good, long stretch. Unbidden, I heard his voice, a memory from a while back. “You don’t cooperate with kissing very much, if I know you, Doctor; it’s too intimate. And, you’re perfectly right to protest. Kissing is more intimate than fucking.”
But, I hadn’t felt it was too intimate, had I? At the time I had, but not now. No, I’d been perfectly willing for it this morning, and upon his return yesterday. And, thinking farther back, my conversation with Miss Alair gave me a little jolt.
“Why didn’t you just let him kiss you? That’s what Mommy did.”
“He doesn’t want to kiss me, he wants to strangle me.”
“No, he doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s just sad you don’t appre… appre…”
“Appreciate?”
“That’s it, appreciate. He’s just sad you don’t appreciate him. Why don’t you?”
Had I gotten something wrong? Did the Master actually want me? I searched my head again, returning to the Fertility Festival.
“Kissing you isn’t a light suggestion, Doctor. Correct me if I’m wrong, but we’re in the very beginning stages of remembering what we were like as friends. And, I was enjoying that.”
“Yeah, me too, but, if we don’t comply with this festival, your standing will probably plummet.”
“Even with the work I’ve done here, Doctor, I have more history with you than with the Seldatians.”
“Pretend I’m someone else. I won’t let this change our dynamic.”
“I have a lot of imagination, but nothing so vivid as to turn you into someone else. And, if you think for a second that even a small intimacy wouldn’t alter our dynamic, you’re kidding yourself.”
Had he changed his mind? The Master didn’t simply change his mind, not ever. He needed convincing. He required the stakes going up and the balance swinging out of his favor in order to amend his plots and plans. But, I wasn’t threatening him, and he wasn’t up to no good. At least, I didn’t think any of those things applied.
“Do you over-think everything?” He asked me, leaning over and looking down.
“Look who’s talking!” I protested. “You can’t just allow that I’d be thinking about us kissing? Seems to me it’s a pretty big incident in a long line of big incidents between us!”
“Exactly,” he replied smoothly. “All we are is big incidents.”
Frustrated, I shot a hand up and grabbed the back of his head, pulling him down to me. “You smug son of a bitch!” I rolled him under me, attacking his mouth for all I was worth, determined to do collateral damage to his ego, at least. His gasp of surprise became a hum of satisfaction, but he still fought. I’d expected that, so when he changed our positions, I flexed to put him right back under me. We rolled, rolled, and rolled some more, and only the size of his bed prevented us hitting the floor long before we actually did.
We landed pretty hard, on our sides, which momentarily stunned us. The Master struggled valiantly to reclaim the dominant spot, but I wasn’t having that, not this time. We tumbled, grabbing and twisting, our lips doing battle with a lot more efficiency than the rest of us.
I was on fire to teach him a lesson. Years upon years of standing back and waiting for him to throw some horrible fate my way, attempting to out-think the smartest person I knew and having to work like the devil to get around him, it all crashed into me with brilliant and glittering provocation. I pinned his wrists and darted down, nipping him under his jaw just barely hard enough to hurt. If I knew him, he liked a little pain.
Oh no you don’t! He said in my mind, and pushed me. I tumbled off of him and sat flat on my arse, arms braced backward. Instantly, my eyes were drawn to his wounded side. It was leaking a little, strained from our exercise. Shame flooded me.
“I’m so sorry,” I blurted.
“Please,” he drawled, getting to his feet. “It’s worth it to see a little vindictive heat in you.” He arched and stretched to have a look at his stitches, and it rammed home the fact I’d been tumbling around with him stark naked. I hadn’t given it a thought, and neither had he, apparently. And, God, he was beautiful.
Always.
He ran a finger through his blood and looked at it. “You’d do well to remember I’m the restrainer and you’re the restrain-ee,” he said, and his lips twitched. He was teasing me. Crouching before me, he put out his finger and painted my bottom lip with his blood. “You run, I chase,” he added. “I blow things up and you foil my plans.”
“I didn’t think that was as much us anymore,” I confessed. His blood tasted rich and complicated, tinged with his artron. I licked it off, and his eyes followed the movement of my tongue.
“Yeah, it’s not,” he agreed. “Except for the running and chasing.”
“I’m not running.”
The Master lifted an eyebrow. “Doctor, you’re all about running,” he argued softly.
**
- 17
- 18
- 19
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

Lapidary