calufrax

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Story: Hush
Author: lysia
Rating: Adult
Word Count: 2643
Author's Summary:
A slashy alternative take on the scene in the warehouse in 'End of Time' before the soldiers kidnap the Master. The Doctor finds his
nemesis in the wasteland and tries to protect him. The Master decides to play a game.
Characters/Pairings: Tenth Doctor/Simm!Master
Warnings: Explicit sex

Recced because: In the author's notes, lysia says she wrote this as a challenge to herself to escape from the trap of being too chatty when she writes. I haven't been lucky enough to read any of her other stories, but I think she succeeds at her self-challenge. There's no dialogue in the entire story, but it is gripping and personal and entirely captivating.

The relationship between the Doctor and the Master is so twisted I feel like I'd need a psychology degree to understand it fully. There's an obvious power play dynamic between the Doctor and the Master in any incarnation, but Ten's desperation for a connection to his people makes the relationship between Ten and Simm!Master particularly messy. In a lot of fics, that dynamic falls into some pretty dark territory, and can often ignore the fact that there is a deep connection between them. I like lysia's take because while the Master does artfully pull the Doctor's strings and manipulate him through a mix of kindness and cruelty, in the end the Master knows when the game is over, and when it would go too far. He lives to best the Doctor, not destroy him - whatever melodrama he may drum up, he loves the game far too much to risk losing his opponent. And, no matter what face he puts on it, he needs the Doctor as much as the Doctor needs him.

Excerpt:

The soldiers’ voices echo in the empty building. They’re inside now. The Doctor presses his back harder against the pillar and gathers the Master in his arms, the instinct to protect overriding any other. The shorter man lets himself be held, tucking his head into the crook of his enemy’s neck and the Doctor tries not to notice the feel of his breath against his throat.

The first soldier advances, barking orders to his colleagues. The blinding circle of a torch beam sweeps the back wall of the alcove, inches from them, and the Doctor reaches out his left arm to pull the Master closer. The Doctor feels the Master shiver, but suspects it is from cold rather than fear.

There are more of them now, upending crates and kicking open doors. The Doctor holds his breath, tries not to make a sound, but as the Master nuzzles closer, he almost cries out when he feels cool lips against the sensitive skin of his throat. He freezes, unable to either move or speak now, but the Master’s mouth becomes firmer and more insistent as he moves across his neck, sucking on his collarbone, pressing his tongue into the hollow below his adam’s apple. The Doctor swallows instinctively but still doesn’t speak. What is this? Some sort of game? Does he want them to be caught?

Finally the Master pulls back, perhaps to see the effects of his handiwork. Despite the darkness, the Doctor can see him smiling. He creases his brow, shoots him a look somewhere between anger and confusion but the Master’s face gives nothing away. Then he’s kissing him, like they’re back under the trees on his father’s estate on Gallifrey, like there are no armed soldiers sweeping the room for them at this very instant. The Doctor doesn’t know what to do. He shouldn’t be going along with this, he knows. This is wrong and dangerous and several centuries too late. He daren’t fight back though. The slightest sound might give them away. He lets himself go limp, resting against the pillar, letting the Master do what he wants. The other man’s tongue presses firmly against his lips, demanding entrance. The Doctor opens his mouth and lets him in. He still can’t quite believe he’s doing this.