A Ten x Simm!Master fic for @sastmk
Happy Holidays, I’m your @dwsecretsanta ! I’m sorry it took me so long, but this holiday season has been bananas. This was angst fluffy fluff with a bit of smut thrown in. This is a pairing I’ve been wanting to write for a while, so your prompt was a perfect excuse to take the plunge.
Note: I have a pretty set headcanon about Time Lord sex. [See my Doctor After Dark series for more clarification.] In a nutshell, Time Lords can really light the bedroom on fire when they get it on. They pretty much invented sexplosions.
I hope you enjoy, and Happy Wintermas to you!
The TARDIS ground out its discordant song.
The Time Lord who once called himself the Master was leafing through a book on Ba’enlavian history, a spirit race in the Qu’net star system. He found the book, not in the TARDIS library, but in the section of the TARDIS usually reserved for human companions. He had gone through all the rooms, one by one, cataloging. Researching. He was curious to know what the Doctor and the TARDIS saw in humanity that fascinated them so. But he couldn’t find anything compelling. He had ended his search in Martha’s room. The book he held in his hand had been on her bedside table.
There was a cardinal feather jammed in the section entitled Sexual Magicks and the Manipulation of the Sensual Mind.
Martha was a human, but she was clever enough to get an idea of how Time Lord sex might go. But, of course, she had still failed.
He chuckled and closed the book. As if he needed any instruction. He learned such manipulation eons ago, and used it to his advantage on many occasions. Back in Gallifrey, he had done much to know much. In fact, he and the Doctor had done much together, long before the Time Lady who became his wife wrested his attentions.
The Doctor. His Doctor, despite the feud that nearly tore apart several galaxies. No one knew why they despised each other so passionately. No one but them. They knew since they were children that they were twin souls, destined to spin around each other for as long as they lived. Even the Doctor’s wife felt there was a thread between them that not even his deep love for her could break.
She too had done much to know much, and she had used all her intellectual wiles to drive a wedge between them. And so the feud began, in the backdrop of the Time War. Their love had almost been more important than the imminent destruction.
He thought back on how his Doctor looked then. Too tall, and slim as a blade of the red grasses that grew in his father’s fields. They had burned hundreds of kliks of field in their secret explorations, which started as vigorous intellectual discourse and ended with them naked, panting as the field burned around them, proof of their passion.
It was a sweet desolation. The smell of burning flora made him crave the feel of the Doctor’s twin hearts pounding against his, his mouth slick and sweet on his. His eyes squeezed shut and he arched on the jumpseat, awash in memories.
How many worlds did he burn, just for the scent? Then, the inhabitant’s suffering was nothing compared his his longing, which filled him with impotent rage.
Ten bested him, because he could no longer resist. His tears and gentle entreaty on that boardroom floor had proven too tempting, but there was a reason for it - Ten reminded him of who the Doctor was long before he called himself the Doctor. The young man in Gallifrey was also tall and lithe, with liquid brown eyes and a mouth that only the wisest of Time Ladies would know to envy.
Ten was his lover, regenerated. And despite the resentment, the anger, he did not want to push back the inevitable any longer. They were bound together. He felt the Doctor, and the Doctor felt him.Their’s was a promise that no other love could break.
The hard quill of cardinal feather crunched between his teeth and gave off a faint savory flavor.
He sat up and looked around. The console room was too silent, despite the hum of the TARDIS. He missed his voice, constantly rattling off a litany of facts with which he was already very familiar. When they first started traveling together, he was efficient enough to tell him. It didn’t stop him from doing it, so he had ceased saying it.
He knew that the Doctor was still in human companion mode. It bothered him.
He spit out the cardinal feather. It was a gristly red pool in his palm.
He needed only to think it. He felt him stir, and respond, and knew where he was. He exhaled with irritation. It was the companion’s quarters.
