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Mind Over Matter

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He looked out the window of the Valiant gleefully, watching the destruction that was taking place before him, on the surface of planet Earth. Oh, how he loved this. He was the Master; Master of this stinking planet, and soon, the whole universe. He chuckled quietly to himself, spinning around and stopping to face the old man.

The wrinkled face, forever frozen in that meek expression, refusing to look at him as he sat in his wheelchair. Those brown eyes, filled with such—disappointment. Not contempt or hatred or undying resentment; only that look of regret which angered the Master. But no—not today. He wasn't about to let some old man shatter his joyous reign over the Earth. Actually, he was feeling rather proud of his little establishment, and wanted to celebrate.

The Doctor was still staring at the floor when he walked—well, more like frolicked—over to his old enemy. He grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and thrust it forward sharply, causing the Doctor to tumble out onto the cold floor. But still no retaliation. Well, he'd have to do something about that.

The Master kicked the Doctor, catching him under one hip as he tried to pull himself up. The Doctor rolled over, struggling to sit up straight, and gave the Master what he wanted. Tired brown eyes glared up at him warily, and the Master crouched down so that he was level with them.

"Ohh," crooned the Master in mock sympathy. "Is that old body a bit rough, Doctor?" He grinned. "I think we can do something about that."

The Doctor grunted as he was drug up painfully by the lapels of his tattered suit, standing wobbily as the Master held him up, then was pushed back into his wheelchair roughly. "You want to play?" he mocked. "Good dog." The Doctor glared again, to which the Master replied: "Ohh, no—bad doggy."

He pulled out the laser screwdriver from his pocket and aimed it at the Doctor, who eyed it despairingly. "Now," smirked the Master, "this might hurt."

The room was filled with the Doctor's screams as the screwdriver did its work. The old body de-aged itself—quite painfully—as skin was wound tight, muscles tore and then repaired, mercilessly reversing the Doctor's aged body and turning it into something much more satisfying. When the torturous beam finally receded, the Doctor was left panting on the floor, curled into a ball and shaking.

The Master laughed, winding his fingers into the soft hair and pulling back sharply so that the pain-filled eyes met his own. "Ah, Doctor," he murmured, "it's so nice to have you back, looking so amazingly erotic."

"What do you want?" rasped the Doctor, still adjusting to his tightened vocal cords. "Why are you doing this?"

The Master pulled the man up by his hair so that he was standing fully, and pretended to think. "Hmm, let's see…" he trailed off. "Master of the universe, ruler of the cosmos, bide to my every whim, et cetera, et cetera. You know the deal." He smirked. "Oh yeah, and this—"

He ripped open the Doctor's shirt, popping off buttons and exposing his chest. He stopped about halfway down, running his hands over the newly reformed skin. The Master leaned forward, as if to whisper something in the Doctors ear, and bit that place where neck meets shoulder. The Doctor gasped and tried to push him away, but was too exhausted and weak from the torment which his body had just so recently endured.

"Oh, come on, Doctor," breathed the Master. "Don't tell me you've forgotten. How long's it been, hmm?" He released the Doctor, who stumbled backward and fell against the stairs.

The Doctor was confused and scared, but also filled with need and lust for the Master. He tried to push such thoughts away, reminding himself that the Master was a crazed lunatic who didn't give a fuck about anyone but himself. But he was right, it had been awhile. The Doctor could scarcely remember the last time he had gotten physical with someone else, and to be honest, he had been quite lonely since Gallifrey had been destroyed. No—he mentally slapped himself. He had to rid himself of such thoughts. He was interrupted from his dispute when he felt the Master slip into his mind through the Archangel network.

The Master chuckled wickedly, slipping into the Doctor's mind and listening to the war that was going on inside his head.
Come now, Doctor, he spoke telepathically into the other man's mind. You can't fight it. You need me. He could feel the Doctor's mind slipping at the Master's words, and continued to twist his thoughts. Say my name, he commanded.

The Doctor fought against the want, the need. No, he shot back at the Master. Never!

In response, the Doctor collapsed on the floor, convulsing as strong waves of pain were sent through their bond and into his mind. He cried out, babbling out words which held no meaning. After three minutes and twenty-six seconds, the Master ceased his assault on the Doctor's mind.

He crouched down in front of the shuddering body, watching with mild amusement as the Doctor tried to pick himself back up. Say it, he commanded, more forcefully this time. Tell me I am your Master!

The Doctor hesitated, still fighting to gain control when another blast of pain shot through him. "Master!" he screamed, and the pain lessened.

Again!

"Master!"

Again.

"Master, Master, Master…" poured out the Doctor. "You are my Master, I will obey you…"

The Master smirked. "Good." He crawled over the Doctor, pinning him up against the stairs. Hot breath caressed the Doctor's face as the Master whispered into his ear. "Would you like a treat, pet?" Without waiting for the other's response, the Master placed his hands on either side of the Doctor's face, connecting their minds even more intensely through the Archangel network, and sent powerful feelings of lust and pleasure coursing through their bond.

The Doctor inhaled sharply, trying to fight off the overwhelming lust he was now feeling for the Master, stronger than ever. The Master brought his head forward and pressed his lips to the other's, to which the Doctor resisted at first. He fought desperately to get ahold of himself, but to no extent. His only accomplishment was giving the Master more triumph at breaching the Doctor when he finally opened up and kissed back.

Oh, but it felt so bloody good. The taste of the Master was something the Doctor had been longing for ever since he first discovered that he was no longer alone in the universe. He pressed back with his tongue and body passionately, but the kiss was cut short when the Master pulled back with a sneer.

"I knew you couldn't resist," he jeered, standing up but keeping the Doctor on his knees. "Tell me, Doctor, with all those years of lack of physical relations, do you remember how to give head?" He laughed bawdily, unclasping his belt and unzipping the fly on his trousers.

The Doctor swallowed, backing up slightly only to be stopped by the stairs which he was pressed up against. He looked up to meet the other man's dark, crazed eyes, and suddenly feared his punishment for trying to resist his Master. His eyes flicked down, and there was the Master's hard cock, straining and twitching in front of him. He couldn't help thinking of how stunning it was, and arousal pooled in the pit of his stomach. Harsh fingers twined in his hair once again, and his head was pulled back sharply, forcing him to look up.

"Come on, Doctor, my little pet. Aren't you hungry?" The Master chuckled. He slapped his cock against the Doctor's face, then forced it into his mouth. The Master groaned as soft, warm lips wrapped around his shaft, remaining still as the Doctor's tongue explored the dips and crevices which now invaded his mouth. He grunted again, then wrapped both his hands in the tawny hair, forcing the Doctor to move his head as he fucked his mouth.

The Doctor's eyes watered as the Master's cock moved in and out of his throat, and he tried to adjust as quickly as he could. After a while, he began to move slightly with the Master's brutal thrusts, swirling his tongue over the head and along the thick shaft. The Master threw his head back and began panting softly with each thrust, fucking the Doctor's throat. Then, he felt teeth graze lightly against the sensitive flesh, and he moaned deeply.

Looking down, he could see that the Doctor's eyes were closed in concentration, and he was slightly amazed at the man's ability to hold himself together as the Master thrust so brutally and deeply into his throat. How fun it would be, he thought, to pinch the Doctor's pretty nostrils shut and see how long he could last when his respiratory bypass system kicked in, before finally blacking out from the lack of oxygen. But no; not today. Best save that for a more—disciplinary time.

Now he only ran his fingers through the soft, sweat spiked hair, laying off his intense thrusts and allowing the Doctor to work him—which, he must say, was going rather magnificently. The Doctor had lost all opposing thoughts of why this was so wrong, why he shouldn't be doing this, why the Master was only using him for his own sick game; and that he needed to fight back, to overthrow the Master while he had the chance. But—he couldn't. Finding himself far too absorbed in the pure lust that drowned out all these thoughts, the sheer taste of the Master, why he needed him so badly. The Master snickered at the myriad of thoughts that were going through the Doctor's head.
I knew you wanted this, he taunted. I knew you couldn't resist your Master.

But to this, the Doctor paid no mind, still so overtaken with his task at hand. He bobbed his head faster, grazing his teeth and working his tongue with expert precision which made the Master roll his head back and let out a long, contented sigh. His hands wound through the Doctor's hair, almost unbelievably affectionately, as he enjoyed the overwhelming pleasure radiating through his body.

Finally though, the grip in his hair tightened, and the Doctor could feel the tension in the Master's muscles as he began to thrust once again into the Doctor's throat. He was so close, and the Doctor knew it. So he ceased moving his head and allowed the Master to move in and out of him, deep and hard and fast. Finally he let out a growl and spilled into the Doctor's throat, causing him to gag slightly, but still managed to hold out and swallow it all down. Pulsing bursts of pleasure and euphoria swam into the Doctor's mind through their bond, and he inhaled sharply through his nose as said feelings spread throughout his body. He sucked the Master dry and pulled off, looking up expectantly.

The Master chortled to himself, and then tucked his cock back into his trousers, zipping up the fly. The Doctor stood on his own, greeted by a hard backhand from the Master.
"Did I say you could get up?" he hissed manically.
The Doctor stumbled backward, but before he could go so far, the Master stepped forward and tightened his fist in the Doctor's hair, craning his neck back in a painful position. He sneered, turning the Doctor around and flinging him onto the conference table; who crashed into it with a painful thud, now bent over the sleek edge.

The Master laughed again, and the Doctor could hear footsteps echoing in the large room as the man came closer. He caught his breath and tried to push himself up, but then a hand was wound around the back of his neck, and the Master slammed his face down onto the table. Head throbbing, double heart beat pulsing through his body, the Doctor flailed beneath the Master, struggling to gain ahold of the situation.

The Master held the man down until he ceased fighting, then leaned down to whisper in his ear.
"Don't fight it, Doctor. We can do this the easy way or the hard way, but there is no escaping," he hissed.

He caressed the back of the Doctor's head, running his fingers through the soft hair. Then, with a laugh, a bent down and sucked at the Doctor's straining neck, biting at the bulging tendons and grazing his teeth just there. He could tell that the man below him was struggling against himself now. Slowly, he was breaking the Doctor into delightful submission. The Master sucked hard before lifting his head, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

The Doctor's chances of keeping his self-control were rapidly decreasing, and did so more when the Master grazed his teeth against the sensitive spot right behind his ear. A small moan escaped his now parted lips, and he could feel the Master grinning as he raised his head. Then, the Doctor's upper body was lifted from the surface of the table and he was spun around, now face-to-face with his greatest enemy.

"Say it," demanded the Master, his voice deep and husky.

The Doctor couldn't stop himself from shuddering as the rich voice echoed around the room, encasing him. He averted his eyes, hesitating, but the grip on his jacket only tightened as he was given a rough shake. The Doctor made a mistake then, looking back up and meeting the Master's dark, lust-filled eyes with his own. He was immediately drawn in, forgetting all else except his overwhelming want.

"Master," he breathed, his own voice having gone down an octave. The Master flashed a cold grin, rewarding the Doctor by pulling him in and crashing their lips together.

The Doctor moaned into the kiss, for once letting all his worry disappear as he met the Master's tongue with his own. They explored each other's mouths for a while, and then broke apart as the Doctor was thrown roughly back onto the conference table. He held in a sob. Every time it seemed the Master was finally breaking past his crazed mind state, he snapped back into the cold heartless shell that the Doctor knew only too well. If only there were some way to keep him sane, the Doctor thought as the Master slammed his head into the table once more.

"You know what really makes this whole thing worthwhile, Doctor?" the Master tittered. "It's the fact that you're enjoying every bloody second of it!" He broke out in a crazed laugh that echoed around the ship's empty walled room. He laughed even harder when the Doctor struggled against his hold, throwing his head back and howling.

The Doctor took this opportunity to push back hard against the Master, making him stumble across the floor with a growl.

"You little shit," the Master sneered after regaining his balance. He tried to lunge for the Doctor again but found himself pinned against the wall, fiery brown eyes glaring down at him with newfound determination.

"You think this is all a game?" the Doctor yelled, clenching the Master's wrists in his hands and sending pulses of Artron energy through his body. He ground his teeth in rage. "Killing is not a game, Master. Genocide is not child's play!"

The Doctor's unexpected rebellion had shocked the Master for a minute, but not for long. He grinned wide at his nemesis, moving his face very close to the other's.

"Knew you had it in you, Theta," he whispered. "You can't let everyone walk on you. Stand up; take control. Become the master."

He began to quietly chuckle as his words sunk in. He shook his head as the Doctor's mind swelled with images of Gallifrey. The loner and the rebel. Theta and Koschei; destined to be in each other's lives until the end of Time.

The Master slipped into the Doctor's mind again, seeing countless memories of the old days spent on Gallifrey, as best friends. He almost scoffed at the Doctor's seemingly limitless nostalgia, but got caught up in the sheer power of it all. He'd forgotten how nice it was when they were so close. Two mishaps growing up in a society that demanded perfection.

And then one memory stuck out more than all the rest. Theta and Koschei lying together in that tall red grass, totally in love. And then their first kiss…

The Doctor was dumbfounded when he was suddenly snapped out of his old memories. He looked up to see the Master; his face crossed with utter fear, gazing at something very far away. Slowly, the Doctor released his grasp on the Master's wrists, placing them instead on either side of the other Time Lord's face. The Master's eyes, wide as a scared puppy, snapped up to the Doctor. He looked as if he were holding back tears.

"Theta," he choked out. "What has become of us?"

The Doctor smiled; but it was a sad smile. "We grew apart; went our separate ways."

The Master closed his eyes. "It's those bloody Drums," he spat the word. "They tell me things, Theta. Drive me crazy." He dropped his head against the Doctor's chest. "Rassilon, make them stop."

The Doctor pulled the Master into a hug, and they stood for a long time, unmoving, enjoying one another's caring embrace. Finally the Master pulled back, looking into the Doctor's eyes.
"Make them stop, Theta. Please. Help me." His eyes were glazed and wet, still crazed, but with a strong determination.

"I can fix you, Koschei. Give me time and I promise you, I will find a way to stop whatever it is inside your head." The Doctor grasped the other firmly, bringing their mouths together in a gentle kiss.

"Well then," said the Master after pulling back. "I guess we'll have to find your TARDIS."